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039. Taste

Crowley grinned, raising his cup. "To my victory," he announced with a smug tone.

Aziraphale raised his cup as well, although not without a questioningly raised eyebrow. "Your victory over what, exactly?" he asked before bringing the cup to his lips.

"You, of course." The demon smirked. "Granted, it took over a thousand years, but I got you to drink with me!"

"I'd like to remind you that I was victorious for those thousand years," Aziraphale pointed out. "Your victory is tonight only. And besides, your goal was always to make me drunk, not merely make me drink."

"Tonight's victory robs all meaning from your thousand years," Crowley claimed. "And the distinction between drink and drunk is only time."

"That's what you say." Aziraphale took a sip of the beverage. "It tastes... not bad," he commented.

"Of course it doesn't taste bad!" Crowley exclaimed, sounding slightly exasperated. "It's the best bloody wine since Babylon, and nothing could ever rival those!" He drank of his own cup.

"You would know that," Aziraphale muttered. "After all, you have certainly sampled every kind of wine there has ever been." However, his tone was more amused than anything.

"Blessed right," the demon replied. "I can't understand just how you've managed to stand humanity so long without getting drunk occasionally."

"It is called patience, my dear," Aziraphale said. "Patience, and faith in the Ineffable Plan."

"Patience, my arse," snorted Crowley, waving a hand dismissively. "It's called bloody avoiding the issue!"

"Now, now. I don't 'avoid the issue', as you put it. I am merely very selective in choosing the matters I concern myself about," Aziraphale said smugly.

"'Tis the same thing." Crowley emptied his cup, then smirked. "What shall we drink to next? Your splendid failure?"

"I think," Aziraphale said with admirable patience, "that we should drink to the Arrangement instead."

"Spoilsport," muttered Crowley. However, this didn't stop him from drinking to it nevertheless.

"I think you've had quite enough by now, my dear."

"No I haven't," said Crowley, his voice a bit slurred. "I haven't had half enough. 'M not even properly drunk."

"Yes you have," Aziraphale insisted. He had had a bit too much as well, he suspected.

"Ssspoilsssport," hissed the demon.

"Ha! There, see? Or listen," Aziraphale said, feeling a bit confused. Which one was he supposed to say? "You're hissing. Hiss-hiss-hissing. That means you've had too much already."

"No I haven't. I hissss becaussse I'm a sssnake. It hasss nothing to do with alcohol. Nothing at all. I've hardly drunk anything yet." Crowley might have been more convincing if he hadn't been pouring himself yet another cup as he said this.

"Nooo. You're drunk. You're having a hissy fit." Aziraphale giggled. "This is fun, though. Being drunk. I'm glad you convinced me to do this. Should do it more often."

"Sssee? Ssshould trussst me more often. 'M trussstable. Not many demonsss are. An exception, that'sss me."

"No I shouldn't. Shouldn't trust demons. Demons lie." Aziraphale drank some more. "...What were we talking about?"

"I don't know." Crowley sighed. "I hoped we'd have better drunken conversssationsss. But thisss isss no fun, really."

Aziraphale considered this for a moment. Finally, he said, "Maybe we should drink some more?"

"That," Crowley said, "sssoundsss like a blessssed good idea."

"Humansss are ssstupid," Crowley announced.

"I think we've quite covered that issue during the last few centuries," Aziraphale pointed out. "You always talk about how stupid they are when you're bored. Or drunk. Or sleepy, or just talkative. No matter what, everything always comes down to humans being stupid."

"Not everything," Crowley argued. "Cowsss don't. Cowsss have nothing to do with humansss being ssstupid. Cowsss are good. They make milk and don't asssk quessstionsss." After a pause he added, "I like cowsss."

"More on your plate than in your drink, I've come to notice," Aziraphale said. "…Or was it oxen? Are oxen and cows the same thing or a different thing?"

"I don't know," Crowley said. "I don't care much, either. Aren't cowsss the onesss that make milk, though? If ssso, I like cowsss."

"You might be right," Aziraphale said. "Cows are much smarter than humans. No jealousy, no wars, no revenge. Just lots of grass and milk." He frowned. "How do they make grass from milk? Or was it milk from grass?"

Crowley giggled. "You ssshould know," he said. "You're the sssmart one here. You read all thossse booksss."

"I don't read books about cows. Or oxen." Aziraphale raised his cup to empathize his point. "You said you like cows. If you like them, shouldn't you be interested in knowing stuff about them?"

"That'sss why I'm asssking you, ssstupid angel." Crowley grinned. "I've a forked tongue. Want to see?"

"I've seen it many times," Aziraphale said. "Is that why you hiss? Hisss-iss-isss. Have a hissy fit." He giggled.

"Maybe. Or maybe not. 'M not sssure." Crowley grinned. "Maybe it'sss jussst becaussse I'm weird. Or maybe it jussst comesss naturally to usss ssserpentine beingsss."

"You mean, you vile reptilian creatures who still haven't figured out walking," Aziraphale giggled. "Do snakes eat cows?"

"Only very big sssnakes. And very big cowsss." The demon suddenly looked like he'd got an idea. This rarely promised anything good. "Wanna sssee my sssnake?"

Aziraphale flushed in a way that had little to do with the amount of alcohol he had been consuming. "Now, now, really," he said. "I think we should maybe kind of sober up…"

"Nnnoooo," groaned Crowley. "Not yet. Have to deal with humansss then. Ssstupid humansss, alwaysss have to hide my eyesss from them. I don't have to hide my eyesss from cowsss."

Aziraphale considered this for a moment.

Then he poured himself some more wine.

The next morning was, needless to say, not really pleasant.

"Oww," grumbled Crowley. "My head'sss killing me."

"So is mine," sighed Aziraphale. "We really should have sobered up earlier… You're still hissing."

"No, I'm not," protested Crowley. "I don't hissss. Unlessss drunk. Or in sssnake form."

"Well, now you do." Aziraphale grimaced as more memories from the night before rose into his mind. "'Wanna see my snake?' Really, my dear…"

"I mussst have been really, really drunk," admitted Crowley mournfully. "I'm not usually that immature…"

"I do know that by now." Aziraphale sighed. "I'm never, ever touching wine again."

Now, though, Crowley grinned. "Care to bet, angel?" he asked.

Aziraphale did not.

Next Prompt: Sight