I'm new here and I'm really just messing around with the characters seeing if I can get them right before I try to type up the monster plot that is plaguing my brain. C+C would be greatly appreciated and people who bother shall be lovingly fed marshmallows.
Disclaimer: as normal they're not mine, but with a well-placed trap and some bait one day they just might be!
The work of two worlds"Heavenly."
"What?" Crowley's head snapped up from behind a table full of bottles, his sunglasses hanging crookedly on his nose revealing hazy eyes that matched the confusion lying silently on his slightly parted lips.
He looked around the all too familiar surroundings. The books lined up like musty graves for ages past and lost, from days of titles such as "Do what the Great book Sayeth," to "Caffeine: The life source." His gaze scanned the once-charred walls and he half picked up the scent of burnt paper and a touch of brimstone. Homely, in a 'Don't make me go home. I'll put a stop to the creation of polystyrene and cotton wool if you let me stay and have another drink,' way.
Following his thoughts he poured himself a drink watching the amber liquid slink down into his glass, like lava craving destruction beyond the smooth confines. The he finally straightened himself up so that he could see what was going on.
At the far side of the room Aziraphale sat. His worn cardigan dripped down over his shoulder forgotten in the comfort of his relaxed slouch. His long legs were stretched out, resting on a shelf of a bookcase, his tartan-socked toes absently stroking the pages of a book. Crowley grinned knowing that the angel would be horrified when he realised what he was doing.
The demon watched as his friend, enemy and part-time thought consumer, (mmm, angel) tipped back his head, letting his eyes flitter closed as they looked blindly heavenward. Aziraphale's adam's apple bobbed deliciously as he stretched his throat long and Crowley's mouth suddenly went dry. He gulped at his drink feeling it scratch and burn at his insides and finally pulled himself together.
"What are you pronouncing to be the work of God now?"
The angel's lips curled into a peaceful smile as his eyes flickered to the mug that steamed through the cradle of his hands.
"Nothing better to soothe the chaos of apocalypse than a nice cup of tea."
Crowley's eyebrows rocketed nearly off his forehead, "Tea?"
The angel nodded enthusiastically. "A warm tranquillity, surely made to…"
"Right, because that was all we needed." He began to mimic Aziraphale's voice "Here you go spawn of evil, a nice cup of tea to make your plans of world domination and everlasting torment go away."
"Actually." Replied the angel, "That might have worked. I thought he was rather a nice boy in the end."
"He's ours." Crowley reminded him, but was ignored as Aziraphale took a long sip. In reply Crowley edged closer and flicked the mug a wicked smirk dancing across his lips. "So is that."
The angel looked dismayed for a moment before the creases in his face relaxed again into a youthful age. "No, tea is definitely ours."
"No." Crowley disagreed, straightening in triumph. "It's an addictive substance, which created the tea obsessed maniac: brew for 6minutes, drink at a temperature of so many degrees, do not pollute cup with sugar or too much milk. These people actually have rules, their life becomes tea, and therefore they become ours."
Aziraphale licked a drop escaping down the edge of his mug and thought about it. "No tea is good. Therefore it is good."
Crowley took a sip. "Yes, it's good enough to be a sin."
"Should I be drunk to follow your logic?"
The demon shook his head and the alcohol left his bloodstream, dissipating in waves of false pleasure to line the books of ends, and he crawled forward to lean against the angel's legs, plucking the mug from Aziraphale's hands.
He copied the angels actions, letting his head loll back onto Aziraphale's thigh.
"Devilish."
