"So you're responsible for all the human interest features about rescuing cats stuck up trees, are you?"

Jophiel just smiled. "I don't make the news, Crowley. That's not my function. Besides, you've done quite enough of that for both of us lately, I think."

Crowley gave a proud smirk, leaning back in his chair, before his expression turned wry. "Right. So I'm sure you're being just 'one of the gang' doesn't influence the content of the paper at all."

"We're all allowed to exert our influence," the angel said quite neutrally. "The final choice is still theirs to make."

"Is that why you didn't make yourself editor-in-chief? Too obvious, eh?"

"I didn't make myself anything. I started here like everyone else, fetching lunch orders and writing blurbs about births and weddings."

"They just saw your supernatural talent for knowing everything under the stars and promoted you."

"We're all allowed to exert our influence," Jophiel repeated. His smile grew this time, a row of perfect white teeth standing out against dark skin. He, too, sat back rather casually in his chair; though he was dressed professionally in slacks and a collared shirt, his clothing was a bit rumpled, as though he'd already been in the office for quite some time. "Is there a particular reason you dropped by, demon? I do have deadlines looming..."

"Just had something I wanted to run by you. Knowing your propensity for Truth and all." Crowley gave the angel a reptilian grin.

"Oh?"

"Say all of your kind - and I don't mean journalists - were to take a sudden... interest in someone down here. What would that mean, would you say?"

Jophiel looked sober, as though he were truly considering the question from all angles. "You mean... like the Virgin Mary or someone?"

Crowley choked on his own laughter, though an amused hiss did escape. Dear someone, what did Gabriel get up to during that Annunciation? "Er, not quite what I had in mind..."

"What are you referring to, then?"

"Oh, I'm sure you've gotten wind of the general idea by now."

"I do have my sources." The corner of the angel's mouth twitched. "But that doesn't mean I'm ready to disclose just anything."

"Is that the journalistic integrity speaking, or the angelic? Because let me tell you, from what I've seen of both of those..."

"What is it that brings you here, Crowley?"

For a moment, the dark eyes seemed somehow mesmerizing, and Crowley found almost compelled to speak the truth: His encounters with angels over the past six days had left him with the distinct impression that Something was going on, and he was beginning to wonder just what he'd jumped into. It was a struggle, but Crowley managed not to ask outright. He'd had too much practice with deception for that.

Jophiel got to his feet, wandering around the desk; Crowley was reminded abruptly of Raguel and stiffened. The angel made no move but to lean casually against the desk, tilting his head with a very convincing expression of interest. Crowley would have to remember that one...

"Sometimes," Jophiel said softly, "truth is important, demon. That's why I do my best to ensure that it's spelled out in black and white on the front page. But sometimes... sometimes we aren't quite sure of the ground beneath our feet. And sometimes that's better."

Crowley looked skeptical. "So what you're saying is... no comment?"

The angel smiled again; Crowley was beginning to find it an infuriatingly enigmatic expression. "You could look at it that way."

"Are you going to ask me how that makes me feel, next?"

"I don't think that will be necessary." Jophiel leaned in, kissed Crowley's lips lightly. The demon wanted to argue, to be contrary, but he knew that would be useless. The truth was, his body was responding quite willingly already. Maybe it didn't matter what was going on if the other side was going to keep this up...

Crowley reached up, one hand catching at Jophiel's shirt collar as the other smoothed across the plane of the angel's arched back. He'd fully intended to take the lead in their intimate dance, but Jophiel seemed to have his own ideas about that. He guided Crowley from the chair and undid the demon's trousers, one hand cupping the length of Crowley's half-erect cock as they kissed.

Crowley could see all the flurry of a busy newsroom outside the office window; no one else seemed to notice the demon's pleasure as Jophiel sank to his knees, lips and tongue teasing the demon's cock. Crowley shuddered.

The warmth didn't last for long, though, and Jophiel was soon on his feet again. Crowley was about to protest the abrupt end to the attention when the angel grasped his shoulder and urged him to turn around. Tension buzzed in every limb as Crowley heard the sound of the angel taking down his own trousers. There was silence that stretched on for far too many eternities; and then the angel reached around him, his hand finding the demon's erection once more. He felt the angel's own cock pressing against his entrance, teasing, and groaned. He didn't even care that the edge of the desk bit into his thighs as Jophiel began to ease into him, achingly slow. The angel filled him, though his body accepted the length willingly.

Their rhythm was steady; Jophiel was constant, did not let Crowley quicken their pace, despite how the demon pressed back against him. His grasp on the demon's cock changed, however, the pressure growing, building up somewhere deep in Crowley's abdomen, until finally, with a gasping cry, Crowley came with his face pressed to the polished mahogany of the desktop.

The demon simply slumped against the desk for the moment, unthinking. By the time Crowley straightened up, Jophiel had already done up his trousers. Crowley realized he hadn't even been aware of the angel's completion. But Jophiel said nothing of it, simply rounding the desk to return to his seat. He looked no more rumpled than he had when Crowley'd arrived.

"'In this world, those who seek the truth will also find trouble...'" Jophiel straightened the cuff of his shirt. "Now if you'll excuse me, demon, I really do have a deadline to meet."