This story was originally wrote in spannish when first season ended and has no consideration for the second season at all. Now, I dunno why, I decided to try to translate it to english. I don't know how far I will go with this because this story it's extremly long and complicated. I suppose that if you guys like it I would try to put more effort in it that if nobody is interested anyways.
Agua is the unconditional fan of Terry Pratchett, who about ten years ago read 'Good Omens' one summer at the beach, and no one paid the slightest attention to it (the same happened with Discworld). However, since then, she has not stopped involuntarily checking over and over again how the Queen Greatest Hits' thing is the most accurate and unbearable bloody running gag in history. Then Michael Sheen enchanted her with every word spoken during six episodes of a television fanfiction where she couldn't believe someone would make her like Aziraphale. And by the way, yes, he is the absolute culprit of all this, may it weigh on his conscience.
Aceite got dragged into this without any coercion, pressure, or threat whatsoever and by his complete will and free will. Cross my heart, hope to die.
A kiss to Neil Gaiman, and let's hope Terry Pratchett is having a great time wherever he is. We promise to honor your memory by yelling at each other on the phone to write this story and trying not to throw anything in the bathtub this time.
By the way, the title is now permanent even if it sucks, because this story is completely out of hand and we absolutely lost control of it at all levels. (Can I hear a wahoo?) but in the meantime...
Sin City
Aziraphale looks at Crowley over his tea cup with a certain disapproval, primly seated in the armchair in the back of his bookstore, with one leg crossed over the other and a book on his lap.
Crowley stops typing something on his phone, leaning... or rather, sprawled in the chair with his legs wide open and having slipped through it like molten iron pouring into a mold until only his back remains on the horizontal part of the seat with his chin pressed to his chest. He looks over his sunglasses.
"I still don't understand your fascination with phones" he clears his throat a bit.
"A device that manages to completely captivate the minds of humans until they can't do without it without feeling pure physical anxiety? It's bloody brilliant. The day I figure out how something as dumb as Candy Crush can be that addictive...
"Of humans and a demon minds..." he comments into the air in his persistent reprimand.
"You're telling me this when you literally just..." he checks the time on his phone and sits up a bit until at least his backside is back in contact with the seat". Sixty-seven hours, twenty minutes, and twelve seconds ago, you looked at your new pile of books and told me, "if this device goes off in the next seventy-two hours, I hope it's because hell has frozen over."
"And why did I start reading all those hours ago, Crowley?"
"Probably because it was when you brought those stupid new books."
"So, are we going with what came first, the egg or the chicken?"
"You and I were there that day. Didn't you see it from the east gate of Eden?"
"Yes. And that day, the first thing that happened was you pulling out that demonic device" he points at the phone with a certain displeasure.
"You didn't say anything about this device; you said yours" he shrugs and smiles.
"Which one of mine?"
"The one you told me you didn't want to go off."
"Me?"
Crowley blinks a bit as it seems he got lost in the conversation somewhere.
"Are you back on that sword matter again?"
"No, I mean the moment when the egg was created. And the chicken."
"The chicken and the egg. And no device went off except yours."
"I didn't have this device back then" he replies, finally understanding. Aziraphale smiles.
"The next day, you started using it."
"I wish. We wouldn't have had to wait an eternity for everyone to find out they shot the Archduke of Austria."
"Always so impatient" he laughs. "But go back to the chickens, I got lost there" he blushes a bit."
"What did you get lost in?"
"Which device of mine?"
"I'm going to introduce you to your phone, in case you've forgotten about its existence" he looks for it around, not very successfully.
"Oh... were you texting me?" he even puts on an excited face.
"No. You said not to bother you unless the world was ending. Or well, something worse since we're experts in avoiding that kind of inconvenience."
"And since when are you so obedient?"
Crowley blinks a couple of times and picks up his phone again, texting him now. His phone rings... somewhere mysterious in the universe.
"Don't you think there are much more efficient ways to interrupt me that aren't..."
"Well, you said seventy-two hours, and it's been sixty-seven."
"And still, obedience..." he lowers his gaze to his book."
"You complain when I listen to you, you complain when I don't..." he gets up.
"I'm not complaining that you do. More like..."
The demon glances at him while pouring whiskey.
"Oh, going for the whiskey now..." he's really paying absolutely no attention to the book now.
"Do you want some?"
"I guess I could make the sacrifice..." he smiles more and closes the book.
"Everyone will remember you as a martyr for it" he replies, pouring another glass, smiling.
"Thank you very much" he nods, smiling. The demon scrunches his nose a bit, as he always does when thanked, but smiles back, offering him the glass". I was thinking, Crowley... now that they're going to leave us... in peace for a while.
"Hmm?" he asks, settling back into the chair, one leg over the armrest, although maintaining a slightly more upright position this time. Thanks to the whiskey glass.
"Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea... to go away."
"Now? Right when we're about to have the best time here?"
"I mean, a few days of vacation."
"Vacation..." he repeats, considering the idea. "Where?"
"I don't know. I think it'll be difficult to find a place we both like."
"I'm sure I can tempt you with almost anywhere."
"If you're going to offer me Las Vegas, I assure you I won't be tempted."
Crowley raises a finger to hush him and takes out his phone again.
"The best hotels to eat in Las Vegas" he starts reading aloud.
"Ohh, that's cheating. There are hotels to eat in everywhere" he laughs and blushes a little.
"Yes, that's why" He starts reading about it as well. Bakeries and creperies because Crowley knows his audience. Specialties in American sweets and fusion cuisine.
Despite Aziraphale having intentionally settled into the 1950s, putting down roots so deep that someone could have mistaken him on the street for Dr. William Masters, and not seeming to want to move from there even if he were dragged like a right-wing political party in power, food was an exception. His mouth begins to water.
"And do you want to go to Las Vegas?"
"I was there when things went sideways. Although it wasn't my job. It can be fun, haven't been there in a while" the demon responds, shrugging.
"Don't you think for Las Vegas we could go to... Monte Carlo?" the angel suggests, for whom sometimes the mere act of leaving London to visit a suburban bookstore for a book justified using his travel clothes.
"I think you'll like Las Vegas more. It's not the same" he wrinkles his nose a bit.
"I'll like it? Or will you like it more?" he asks, looking a bit dazzled.
"You will, of course. Although... true. Better Monte Carlo, I'd rather avoid certain things" he swirls the ice in his glass, shifting positions in the chair, smiling in a somewhat unreadable and mysterious way.
"What things?" he squints his eyes a bit, evaluating his counterpart's expression. "So, now you're not going to tell me."
"No, it's better to keep your innocence."
"Which innocence? Oh! As if I didn't know about other things you do..."
"I'm not talking about anything I do at all!" the scandal.
Aziraphale raises his eyebrows.
"Monte Carlo, then?" he clears his throat a bit, uncomfortable.
"Now I want to know!" protests the angel. Crowley smiles because that was precisely the plan; some say good deeds pave the way to hell. Nothing further, surely it's curiosity. And probably a few tons of steel and fire-resistant concrete because the devil won't be dirtying his shoes every time he wants to check how things are going down there. "Come on, tell me!"
Crowley is about to leave the empty whiskey glass somewhere, on a book to create a ring... but he changes his mind at the last moment, setting it aside, standing up as if nothing happened. Finally leaving it on the table because Aziraphale's boooooks.
"Alright, let's go."
"But aren't we going to think about it a bit more and plan it for weeks until we conclude that maybe it's not the best idea?"
Crowley gives him a sidelong glance and rolls his eyes.
"Okay, okay, let's go. But... what about my customers?" he gets up, taking the books with one hand... and the little glass with the other, putting them in their place.
"Have you sold a single book in the last... decade? You said you wanted a vacation."
Aziraphale smiles a bit more with that.
"Okay, okay... okay. Let's go."
Likewise, the demon heads to the door of the bookstore, strutting like the love child of Freddie Mercury and Mick Jagger. Aziraphale clears his throat.
"And... are we leaving like this?"
"Do you need to pick up anything?" he looks at him with the door half open.
"No. No. Just the momentum... it's not necessarily my strong suit."
"Come on, angel. There's a long way to Monte Carlo."
"I still want to know what happened in Las Vegas."
"Well, even more road then," he smiles, releasing the brake on the Bentley parked at the entrance.
"Then start telling me!"
He gets into the car, smiling without saying anything, and the other one goes to get in on his side.
"Don't exaggerate on the speed."
Crowley glances sideways, starting the car, and Aziraphale smiles at him.
The demon snaps his fingers, and the next instant, they're on a looooong and straight road somewhere near the Grand Canyon, driving at about 260 km/h while "Under Pressure" plays from his Smash Mouth Spotify playlist.
"Come on! This isn't Monte Carlo!"
"You just said you wanted to see what happens in Las Vegas," he defends himself.
"I wanted you to tell me about you and Las Vegas."
"About me?"
"You said you had stories. Although again, I'm not sure if I want to hear them... do we really have to go at this speed?"
"There aren't even more cars! What I said is that I was there when everything went sideways."
"Well, that sounds like a memorable story."
"In thirty-one, someone had the brilliant idea of legalizing gambling."
"Yeah, yeah... I think from my perspective, it wasn't brilliant."
"And then a series of wealthy and generous gentlemen who couldn't use their funds needed a way to launder their capital," he looks at him, no longer paying attention to the road.
"Yes, we lost quite a few followers that year. Crowley..."
"Yes?" he keeps looking at him.
"Could you..." he looks at him, looks at the highway.
To be fair about it, "Love of My Life" should be playing behind that look, thankfully covered by sunglasses, but unfortunately, it's not on the greatest hits compilation, so maybe we could settle for "You're My Best Friend" as he continues to not pay attention to the road. Don't blame the Bentley; it's really doing its best.
The truth is, when he looks at him like that, the angel himself feels the temperature rising a few degrees... So Aziraphale lets out a little nervous giggle.
"Maybe you could slow down a bit... or not."
Eye roll time again.
"There isn't even a damn curve," he protests, but at least he looks back at the road.
"We must be cautious."
"Blah blah blah blah."
Aziraphale laughs.
"Sometimes I think those glasses of yours are so dark you literally see NOTHING with them, so you're just moving on instinct.
"I could be," he releases the steering wheel and puts his feet up on the dashboard because he's a show-off.
"Okay... okay... could you stop? Come on," he reaches out to him a bit.
"Stop? We're still like an hour away" don't ask why he hasn't made you appear closer.
"An hour?!
Crowley shrugs.
"Well... should have brought a book" the angel teases him a bit.
"It would be less if you didn't want me to drive like a grandma," he protests.
"Which grandma?!"
"Probably one with some horrible terminal chronic disease."
"All so dramatic. Let the old ladies drive however they can," Aziraphale protests.
"The important thing here is that I don't drive like them," Crowley states.
"You do everything better than a poor sick grandma," he retorts. The demon glances at him, smiling a bit. "Although you're just as cute as the sweet grandmas when they're being sweet."
"That makes no sense," he wrinkles his nose.
"I was trying to compare you to a kindly old lady," he blushes.
"Anyway, when you have a comparison based on a characteristic that needs to be added to one of the subjects being compared...
"I felt aggrieved with your idea that I drive like a little old lady," he chuckles a bit.
"There you go. Bastard me.
"You know? Stop.
"Whyyyyyyy?" he whines, but slows down a bit, pulling over to the middle of the lane, not to the shoulder.
"No, no. Stop. I want you to see something.
"What?" okay, he slows down until stopping in the middle of the lane, not on the shoulder.
"I'm going to drive," the angel decides. Crowley raises an eyebrow. "Come on," he urges him.
"With demands and not even a please..." he opens the car door to switch seats.
"Thank you," he smiles.
"Ugh," he protests, as he always does when thanked, slamming the door harder than he should out of sheer drama, then looking all worried at the car.
Aziraphale moves to the driver's seat, nervous. Because... this car. It's THE car. And he's not as good a driver.
Crowley turns around and gets in through the other door, thinking that... the bloody road is straight, there are no cars, and... he can still control the car with his mind without needing access to the pedals, what could go wrong?
Nothing, nothing could go wrong.
Until he sits back down, he looks at him, and one of those shivers he's such a fan of runs down his spine.
The angel is adjusting everything. The rearview mirror, the side mirror, moving the seat forward. He looks at Crowley with a smile of excitement, and Crowley looks at him with patience and a certain curiosity, saying nothing.
"I just want to show you, my dear, that I'm not a little old lady."
"For now, you're worse. The car isn't even moving," he looks outside the window where a rolling plant is passing them without even using turn signals.
"I'm not worse! You were going at such a speed that I think I should turn around and pick up my heart."
Crowley glances at him because... the cheesiness. He thinks of an even worse one and keeps it to himself. Thank you very much for asking. Now move along. There's nothing to see here. Move along, move along.
"I can imagine it there, lying in the middle of the highway. Heart attack and all," he starts the car carefully.
The car makes a weird sound because that's not how they usually start it. They start it carefully too, but in a different way, and if someone thinks that just because it's an inanimate object, it won't be dramatic, they're very wrong.
"Ohhh... uh... everything in order," he accelerates a bit more.
"Careful! You're scaring that rock; it's going to think we're in a moving object if you keep driving like that!"
"I'm just starting! Don't make me nervous!"
Eye roll again.
"You know what happens when I get nervous."
"Something different from eternity on the road?"
"In this one, yes. Dry."
"And boring," he looks at the horizon with kilometers of plain where there's nothing.
"Well, clearly it would be much more boring if you weren't here.
"Probably because I'm the one making the car move," he claims after hesitating for a moment.
"That too," he accelerates a bit more.
The demon glances at him... and after a while, takes out his phone again just to make him protest.
"Crowley!"
"Relax... I saw a snail passing us at high speed," he assures, looking at the phone with a half-smile. Aziraphale laughs.
"I think the snail is speeding," he accelerates a bit, but doesn't exceed the limit. That's as fast as he should go.
And as they are both arguing and fooling around... suddenly a truck appears coming from the opposite direction heading towards them in the same lane because neither bothered to use the right lane, a pair of Brits.
"Look at how fast I'm going... I'm about to catch that..."
Crowley looks up from the screen for a quick glance and gets a SCARE. He throws himself over instinctively and swerves to change lanes at the last second.
"Ohh... goodness!" Aziraphale manages to say, relieved... once they've survived the disaster.
"Bloody hell, angel! You haven't been driving for thirty seconds, and you've almost wrecked my car!"
"The car?! I almost discorporated us!"
Crowley glances at him and smiles, still with his hand on the wheel and half leaning over him.
"And now that you have a new one that the Antichrist gave you... you never told me if it's all... the same as well."
"What do you mean?" he asks genuinely enchanted by the closeness.
"Well... In general terms, everything is where it should be," he sums up nodding.
"I mean that... maybe now you're more human and need to eat... or sleep... or..."
"Or any of those particular human needs? Hmm, well... I think there are a couple of small details... but overall... I don't think anything really affects us," that use of the plural...
The demon looks at him raising his eyebrows. Aziraphale looks back at him with one of those faces he makes.
"Well," he sounds a bit disappointed but shrugs and leans back in his seat because... you see, he's cool, and he doesn't care about anything.
Aziraphale almost follows him to his side of the seat, really. Damn it, they were so close, and now they're so... far again. He turns to the front and... pulls over to stop. The demon looks at him to see why he's doing that.
"What... did you think might be different?" he asks without looking at him.
"I don't know, I've already told you. Maybe he had made you more human."
Aziraphale releases the wheel with the car completely stopped and clasps his hands, glancing at him again for a moment before blushing slightly.
"Would you like to..." he hesitates and rephrases it a bit. "Well... in fact, you may have noticed yourself that, indeed... morphologically. There are a couple of details that...
Crowley looks at him with a face as if he had just invited him to a heavy metal concert or as if he were proposing what, in fact, he thinks he is proposing. PARA-LYZED.
Aziraphale clears his throat.
"W-What...?" Crowley asks almost in a whisper.
"Perhaps, u-Uhm... you should take the lead...
"T-Take the lead?" he repeats in a slightly high-pitched tone, unintentionally making the dogs bark as if he were referring to... well, the matter. The initiative or something.
"Well, yes. You definitely have more idea than I do... and...
"Uhm... W-Well, yes. Obviously," he responds with false confidence. He doesn't look at him.
Aziraphale glances at him... because he would be lying if he said he's only talking about the car. Or not. Or... he'd rather not think about it.
Crowley moistens his lips, absorbed in this idea, not paying attention, and Aziraphale glances at him, moistening his lips.
"Well... uhm..." he opens the door and gets out.
The demon raises his eyebrows and looks at him unexpectedly. I mean... NOW? Here in the middle of the desert.
Aziraphale closes the car door and starts turning around him... from behind.
Crowley follows him with his eyes, trying to calm down and breathe. He opens the door and steps out in a slightly hysterical impulse.
So they are going to face each other...
Crowley swallows with his mind half blank, knowing he should do something and not sure what. Well, this seems to be the norm. Six thousand years to think about how to stop the apocalypse, knowing it was going to happen, and we end up with a stupid escape plan to Alpha Centauri a day before, an attempted murder of the Antichrist two minutes before, and basically improvising during the process. We don't see why this would be different except that the escape plan doesn't seem like an option in this case, and let's not talk about the murder thing.
"Oh!" Aziraphale smiles at him when he finds him behind the car. "Hello. Everything all right?
"Well... it's been a bit sudden, I confess, but I don't mind this new attitude of yours.
Aziraphale makes a small gesture of not understanding completely but continues...
"Well, I thought that... you would like me to try.
"Yess. Yeah... yesss! O-Of courssse," Crowley responds in three different tones before settling on one and hissing a bit more due to nerves, because above all, we are relaxed, and we have everything under control, until he makes a gesture with his mouth and hands to emphasize.
Aziraphale smiles at him a little, sincerely, although he gets a little nervous along with him.
"Well... uhm..." he opens the door and gets out.
The demon raises his eyebrows and looks at him unexpectedly. I mean... NOW? Here in the middle of the desert.
Aziraphale closes the car door and starts turning around him... from behind.
Crowley follows him with his eyes, trying to calm down and breathe. He opens the door and steps out in a slightly hysterical impulse.
So they are going to face each other...
Crowley swallows with his mind half blank, knowing he should do something and not sure what. Well, this seems to be the norm. Six thousand years to think about how to stop the apocalypse, knowing it was going to happen, and we end up with a stupid escape plan to Alpha Centauri a day before, an attempted murder of the Antichrist two minutes before, and basically improvising during the process. We don't see why this would be different except that the escape plan doesn't seem like an option in this case, and let's not talk about the murder thing.
"Oh!" Aziraphale smiles at him when he finds him behind the car. "Hello. Everything all right?
"Well... it's been a bit sudden, I confess, but I don't mind this new attitude of yours.
Aziraphale makes a small gesture of not understanding completely but continues...
"Well, I thought that... you would like me to try.
"Yess. Yeah... yesss! O-Of courssse," Crowley responds in three different tones before settling on one and hissing a bit more due to nerves, because above all, we are relaxed, and we have everything under control, until he makes a gesture with his mouth and hands to emphasize.
Aziraphale smiles at him a little, sincerely, although he gets a little nervous along with him.
"Well... uhm..." he opens the door and gets out.
The demon raises his eyebrows and looks at him unexpectedly. I mean... NOW? Here in the middle of the desert.
Aziraphale closes the car door and starts turning around him... from behind.
Crowley follows him with his eyes, trying to calm down and breathe. He opens the door and steps out in a slightly hysterical impulse.
So they are going to face each other...
Crowley moistens his lips, still uncertain about what to do. This seems to be the norm. Six thousand years to contemplate how to stop the apocalypse, knowing it was going to happen, and they end up with a stupid escape plan to Alpha Centauri a day before, an attempted murder of the Antichrist two minutes before, and essentially improvising throughout the process. There's no reason why this would be different, except that the escape plan doesn't seem like an option in this case, and let's not even talk about the murder thing.
"Oh!" Aziraphale smiles when he finds him behind the car. "Hello. Everything all right?
"Well... it's been a bit sudden, I confess, but I don't mind this new attitude of yours."
Aziraphale makes a small gesture of not completely understanding, but he continues...
"Well, I thought that... you would like me to try.
"Yess. Yeah... yesss! O-Of courssse," Crowley responds in three different tones before settling on one and hissing a bit more due to nerves. After all, they are relaxed, and they have everything under control. He makes a gesture with his mouth and hands to emphasize.
Aziraphale smiles at him a little, sincerely, although he gets a little nervous along with him.
"Well... uhm..." Aziraphale opens the door and gets out.
Crowley raises his eyebrows, looking at him unexpectedly. I mean... NOW? Here in the middle of the desert.
Aziraphale closes the car door and starts turning around him... from behind.
Crowley follows him with his eyes, trying to calm down and breathe. He opens the door and steps out in a slightly hysterical impulse.
So they are going to face each other...
Crowley swallows with his mind half blank, knowing he should do something and not sure what. Well, this seems to be the norm. Six thousand years to think about how to stop the apocalypse, knowing it was going to happen, and they end up with a stupid escape plan to Alpha Centauri a day before, an attempted murder of the Antichrist two minutes before, and essentially improvising throughout the process. There's no reason why this would be different, except that the escape plan doesn't seem like an option in this case, and let's not even talk about the murder thing.
"U-Un... um... o-okay. Maybe you could speak it slowly... while driving?
Crowley looks at him. He glances at the car and moves away from where he's leaning.
"Yes, yes... of course." He goes to sit in the driver's seat.
Aziraphale gets into the car and looks at him with wide eyes, getting more nervous.
"C-Crowley... s-so..."
"Yes?"
"Talk, please, and explain to me."
"What I'm saying is that... at this point, it won't make a difference if we arrive at a hotel a couple of hours later. You yourself said there's no rush."
"So you're saying we talk until we reach the hotel?" Suddenly, he's more anxious than it seems to understand what's going on, and if it's what... but it can't be what... but...
"Yes, exactly. That could work."
Aziraphale puts his hands on his knees and glances at him again.
"But it's... from both sides, right?"
"Yes, that's why the matter of talking about it," he glances at him.
"Of course, of course."
Crowley nods, waiting for him to start.
"E-Um... well... talking. Talking is easy; we always do it."
"That's true," he smiles.
"So there's nothing wrong with talking, and nothing that could be a problem. Come on, we've talked many times about many things. E-Even complicated things. And every time, it's gone well. Almost." Chatter mode activated.
Crowley raises an eyebrow and looks at him sideways with that speech.
"S-Still... well. Um... tell me what you would want... how...
"Me? This was your idea.
"Ohh... Are you telling me that I've tempted YOU to... something?
Crowley turns to him and looks over his glasses.
"Ohhh." He blushes broadly.
"It's not exactly how I would put it, but... I'm not going to argue with you about semantics.
Aziraphale moistens his lips a bit, dazed as always when he looks at him like this, thinking that this is no longer about driving like a granny. It must be about having a more human body. Which... CAN'T imply anything too weird, really. Although when he talked about temptations with Crowley...
"No, no... Arguing semantics wouldn't make any sense. No. Better... talk. As you said.
"So we agree on... reaching the city at least.
"Yes, of course. Although it wouldn't hurt to have an idea of what... Um... to expect.
"That's exactly what I was asking you.
"Me?! But how would I know if you're the one... Well, you're the one who usually knows what one can expect.
"Well, if you tell me exactly how you imagine it, you can probably expect something quite similar."
"No. H-How... do you imagine it?" he looks directly at him.
"I suppose we could start by getting to the city and choosing a hotel, one with a casino and maybe some kind of dinner with one of those silly magic shows you like or whatever it's called," he blurts out nervously because, in fact, that's why he wanted to go to Vegas and not Monte Carlo. There aren't as many shows in Monte Carlo, and he planned to keep his existence a secret so that the angel would be the one to drag him there, and he could complain to his heart's content, but he's, damn it, getting hysterical.
Aziraphale relaxes immensely with that answer, smiling.
"I imagine that very well. A nice hotel, a delicious dinner, and a lovely show. Will you want to go with me, or... would you prefer to gamble in the casino?
"You shouldn't ask questions whose answers you already know.
"You'll come with me and complain the whole time," he chuckles a bit.
"Pffff," he protests, but that's not a no.
"At least, that's what I imagine," he smiles, settling in the seat. "Sounds good because, after all, isn't Las Vegas one of those cities that never sleep?
"Yes. But I plan to do it anyway.
"Well, I... I'll find something to do in the meantime. Unless I can keep you from sleeping.
Crowley blushes a bit at that, turning back to the road.
"I'm going to check the list of activities at the hotel. And actually, I was wondering if... One or two rooms. Considering that I don't sleep... maybe it could be just one.
The demon waves his hand because didn't they talk about that before?
"And I insist on finding something for you to enjoy.
Crowley looks at him sideways because... didn't they just talk about that? Aziraphale smiles at him.
"What?
"Maybe you could come and play too," he looks back at the road.
"You know very well what I think about gambling."
"You could donate whatever you win to the poor, for example... yourself."
"I can see you playing," he laughs.
"I'm not even sure you're capable of that."
"Why couldn't I be?!"
"Let's imagine I have a bad hand. And I'm bluffing. And you know it."
"You're going to deceive the poor people playing at your table," he protests a bit scandalized.
"Yes. That's the idea."
"And you're going to win by cheating," he scolds.
"That's the idea."
"And I'll be there behind, watching you create chaos."
"I insist that's not an option," he looks at him sideways, thinking he'll be there behind... being... expressive. And also, getting on his nerves.
"Good thing. Although it feels a bit sorry for me."
"It's as easy to fix as you sitting at the table too."
"That wouldn't go well either."
"Why not?"
"I'd have to make sure no one wins."
"Why?"
"Well, I can't have you deceiving me and deceiving them in front of my face; they might take it the wrong way up there."
"You can let the game flow, they have free will to decide if they bet or withdraw."
"Do you think it's possible for someone not to fall into temptation with you?"
"You'll be there to protect them, a balance of forces. But that doesn't mean preventing them from playing directly," he replies, blushing a bit nonetheless.
"No, no... Certainly, it doesn't mean preventing them from playing. In fact, they play all the time without you and me, and some are worse than others."
"Exactly."
"But if you're there, it's another matter, and balancing forces in gambling... the way I do it, it's very difficult."
"Why? Don't you think relaxing with a whiskey is enough?" he smiles knowingly, aware of what he's going to say no to. Because he once heard somewhere that for evil to triumph, all it takes is for good men to do nothing. And he liked the idea for one of those motivational posters... and then he thought that Gabriel might have it hanging in his office. It gave him shivers, and then he thought that it also doesn't work 100% if evil doesn't put in a bit of effort.
"With you, just having a whiskey is never enough."
"You'll probably be very busy; taking you to the city of sin is not exactly a vacation for you, is it?" he laughs.
"The thing is, going to the city of sin myself is one thing, and going with you is another."
"Of course. You should consider the game lost already and just focus on having a good time."
"However, I think what I REALLY have to do is try to keep you as far away from the gaming tables as possible... so I'll have to come up with something to entertain you as much as possible."
Crowley looks at him sideways with a look of "are you seriously taking me to bloody Las Vegas and not letting me gamble?" Aziraphale laughs.
"Well, okay... just a bit at the roulette."
"The roulette, of all things..."
"Isn't it the most fun?"
"No, of course not!"
"Oh... what's boring about it?"
"It's not boring, but it's not the most fun."
"I still don't understand why you like cards so much..."
"They have more to do with skill than luck."
"Are you trying to tell me, my dear, that at times you play using real skill and not just... cheats?"
"Actually... cheats are part of the game and skill," he defends.
"Not if you consider that you can cheat in ways they can't."
"There are many nuances in those games," he shrugs. "Winning all the time is suspicious and no fun."
"You're always suspicious, dear. It's part of the job description."
Crowley makes a gesture, sticking out his bottom lip, and then changes his mind.
"That's why you should play."
"I'm honestly not sure if it's entirely allowed... however... I think for now we have a bit of leeway to do what we want without them noticing."
"Anyway, they wouldn't notice..."
"That's what we always say, but you see... there are some photos..."
Crowley raises his eyebrows because he didn't catch that... a few things have been happening lately, I don't know if you've noticed.
"St. James's Park... side by side."
"When?"
"How should I know, if lately we spend half the time there!"
"What I mean is if you saw them."
"Take them? Of course not!" he responds, scandalized. "Which... well, I don't know if that's worse. But they could be anywhere, at any time. That... is always a problem."
"It's the... omniscience, and yet," he shrugs.
"We're still an angel and a demon," he looks at him sideways.
"Yes, but... what I'm saying is that it's been six thousand years, and no one seemed to be aware. And if they were, it didn't seem important enough to interfere. And I assure you they've interfered for less important things... Wasn't it believed that we were spying on each other? In fact, it was even the official and approved version."
"The problem is that right now... they know, and they know very well... that it's not only not the case but... um, they incorrectly assume that we are... friends. Or... allies. For God's sake... if they've seen us there together.
Crowley looks at him sideways.
"Don't you worry even a... bit?
"Yes, of course. Probably someone would have to set them straight," he looks back at the road.
"Or..."
"Or?"
"Or just relax..."
"Well, if you sense them nearby, let me know. Maybe we can stir things up a bit... more," he still doesn't look at him, but he smiles.
"Stir things up more?! I'm telling you this just to stir things up less!" he protests scandalized, and the demon laughs. "I don't even know how we could stir things up more at this point!"
"And what do you plan? Should I turn into a snake and hide somewhere while you give a million explanations about trying to steer the city of sin back on track?
"If I sense them? Something like that... I want them far away, very far away from you. You can't go back down there."
"Don't you think they'll have that rubber duck ready this time?"
Aziraphale smiles.
"Perhaps, but..." he looks at him sideways again and blushes a bit. "How do you imagine stirring things up a bit more?"
Crowley blushes a bit because he knows very well, but he shrugs, pretending not to.
"I could come up with something."
"Perhaps we could..." he starts and smiles a bit on the side, "just... for entertainment purposes. Have a day for a... rehearsal."
"Why?"
"I want to know what disaster you'd make without them necessarily being here to witness it," he laughs.
"Turn into a snake and hide in your pants to make sure I hear your excuses," he lies, although that's also a good idea.
"I-In my pants?"
"Through the pant leg," he nods with his head, "it's a good spot."
Aziraphale blushes a bit just thinking of him coiled around his leg like a snake.
"That would be... weird."
"Weird would be doing it without being turned into a snake," these jokes are only funny to you, dear. The scandalized eyebrows again.
"That would be absurd altogether, Crowley," he looks at the road, in that uncomfortable posture he usually has while the demon keeps laughing. "How many more hours of... desert do we have to cover?" he protests irritably again just because he got a bit nervous.
"At this speed, twenty minutes... at the speed you wanted to go... about four hours."
"Actually, you shouldn't go above the speed limit. Bad demon! What you should've done was... drop us closer."
"Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned," he says in a fake dramatic and exaggerated tone, mocking him.
"Stop invoking higher beings!" the angel protests over his laughter. "I'm just... thinking. In this matter of vacations, as such. I don't think we've ever done it."
"Well, because you haven't wanted to, see how upset you get over a few pictures in St. James."
"Well, until just a few days ago, you and I were playing on opposing teams, Crowley. Let's say there are things that have changed after the failed Apocalypse, and... this is one of them. Despite everything."
He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head.
"Don't deceive yourself, Aziraphale. We were always on our own side with the agreement to balance actions. I caused the plague, you gave them penicillin, we wrote reports, patted each other on the back, and went home for dinner. You knew that in the end, things balanced out, the world had its interesting times, and you even had time for tea. You could have killed that rat just as I could have wiped out those bacteria."
"I know. I know... it's just that... well. Technically, we did the job in that balanced way, and everyone was happy... until the point where doing the job in a balanced way involved a holy water bath and a demonic fire pyre. And that makes a huge difference."
"What I'm saying is that if they have to condemn us, it's going to be the same for one action as for a thousand... why not make it a million and go out there as legends?"
Aziraphale moistens his lips.
"Yes... in fact, we've been considering too much, doing the job in a, um, reasonably acceptable way, only to find out that the one time it was done right and avoided what seemed inevitable... we'll be condemned."
"Exactly," he smiles.
"It's time to... Well, to consider them a little less and... Consider ourselves more."
"I agree," he nods, looking at him sideways. Aziraphale reaches out, and... quite carefully, he takes off Crowley's sunglasses. Crowley closes his eyes a bit, allowing him.
"There are more of those in the glove compartment if you suddenly feel like having a bit more style."
"No... what I... prefer is for you not to bring them," he confesses and blushes a bit more, well, come on, he was already slightly blushing when taking them off, and Crowley half-smiles, thinking he's very cute.
The angel clears his throat and folds the sunglasses, placing them on the seat between them.
"Is there a Ritz here?" he jokes a bit.
"I don't think so. If you can manage not to break my phone, I'll let you look at it."
"I don't usually break things, darling," he reaches out for it. Crowley searches in his pocket and hands it to him.
"Four zero zero four."
"Hmm... I was expecting six six six six..." he writes it carefully on the screen.
"It's the year the world was created."
"A very tender commemoration..." he smiles more. "Let's see... restaurants... the best restaurants in Las Vegas."
"That's in the search... the icon that looks like a colorful circle."
"Oh, I thought... I thought you were talking to it, like you always talk to the phone," he protests a bit, looking for the colorful ball.
"It's because I can already imagine how you'll talk to the phone..."
"How I would talk to you... if you were an idiot."
""First of all... Good afternoon, Siri, how are you? I'm fine, thank you for asking, dear. I was thinking if you could recommend a restaurant in Las Vegas because, you see, this afternoon I decided to tell Crowley that we should go on vacation, and..."" he begins to imitate him.
"Haven't they told you that in asking, you receive? And... I don't talk like that," he taps the ball that says it on the screen.
"But that's not how you talk to a phone."
"Okay, okay... We don't talk to the phone... I'm sorry, dear, don't feel excluded," he says, talking to the phone.
Crowley looks at him sideways with a bit of second-hand embarrassment, but...
"Fine. So I type here on this little typewriter, right?"
"Only write what you want it to show you, don't write it a letter as if it were a person."
"Who calls this a 'smartphone' anyway?"
"Why wouldn't it be called that?"
"Because this is not smart!" he protests a bit... and now get ready for him to take quite a while to write what he wants. He even sticks out his tongue a bit while doing it.
The demon watches him do it, wanting to bang his head against the steering wheel.
"And that's why I don't send you messages."
"Mhm..." Aziraphale responds without paying the slightest attention.
Crowley leans back a bit to see what he's writing.
"Please show me the best restaurants in Las Vegas that Crowley may like as well."
Rolling his eyes, though a small smile escapes him.
"Now what do I do?"
"Tap the icon that looks like a magnifying glass on the keyboard."
"A magnifying glass? This makes no sense," he brings the phone a bit closer to his eyes. "Which magnifying glass?
"A drawn magnifying glass, it's to indicate that it should search."
"Hmm... With a bit of imagination, this is a magnifying glass," he pokes it.
Crowley furrows his brow, concentrating on making the phone respond to him as easily as he makes the car respond, and just to see Aziraphale's reaction, he makes it show the result of Google images for "gay porn."
Aziraphale's eyebrows and... the BLUSH.
"Oh, my... um... well... the restaurants in Las Vegas seem to have a somewhat broad spectrum."
"Why do you say that?" Crowley is dying of laughter, trying not to show it.
Aziraphale looks at him, looks at the phone, looks at him again. Clears his throat.
"I'm quite sure that what's here is not restaurants that Crowley would like... oh..."
"Wait, what?" he protests when he hears the conclusion he's arriving at.
"I didn't know this was the kind of stuff you... Well. Hmm..."
"What are you talking about?" he squints his eyes and makes the phone show the correct search result. Aziraphale is now looking at him, not the phone.
"I guess the phone is smart enough..." there he is, smiling a little, not as comfortable as he would like to be, honestly. In fact, he squints his eyes and has to shake his head, imagining a couple of things with those guys he's seen on the screen... and Crowley.
"I don't know what you're talking about; there's only a list of restaurants."
"There were a bunch of naked men" he looks at the phone again, and they're gone now, of course.
"Naked men" he repeats slowly.
Aziraphale blinks... completely surprised and scandalized, letting go of the phone.
"They were there! Young lads!"
"Young lads, too..." he finds it amusing... half-dead with laughter again.
"Well, they were quite young, and... I have... Crowley!"
"What?" you sound very innocent while trying not to burst into laughter.
"You told it to do that!" he protests, feeling a bit embarrassed.
"Me? But I'm driving!"
"No, no, no... Don't even think, Snake, that I'm going to believe that."
"It has an experimental mind-reading device."
"I DEFINITELY wasn't thinking about that."
"Well, you must have imagined it all. Which brings us back to an... interesting topic."
Aziraphale raises his eyebrows at the word "brings," still scandalized by this, picking up the phone again.
"Oh... yes...?"
"Well, at another time, I'm sure pastries would have appeared, but... this raises a couple of questions."
"I'm SURE this wasn't my fault," he insists, still protesting, closing his eyes equally nervous about the topic. "What questions?"
"Why are you suddenly thinking about young lads?"
"I'm not thinking about... young lads" he assures, genuinely thinking that you're not that young anymore, Crowley, and blushing genuinely with that. If the phone now shows Crowley and his eyes and his smile... all up close.
No, that's not going to happen, unfortunately.
"You're the one who said it."
"I said that the ones there were young lads naked. And I wrote there that I wanted to see something you'd like, which... well. I don't know. It makes me wonder why you're thinking about young lads."
"That's not how the phone works!" he protests.
"Well, whatever. It doesn't seem to be working well anyway because what I'm thinking about is neither that young nor that naked," he decides while looking at the screen again.
"What are you thinking about?"
Aziraphale blushes a bit and glances at him. Really, this look says it ALL.
"Well... that we're on vacation. And..."
The Bentley helps by making "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" play.
Thank you, Bentley, for making us blush.
Because if anyone thinks that fangirls and some fanboys are terrible and have been shipping them forever, he's been doing it since 1926.
"S-So..." Crowley gets a bit lost in his speech and the angel's blue eyes, honestly. Another truck is coming, and you'll see...
"A-And we're here for no... reason. And I want you to have a good time too."
"I have a good time with you, angel."
It makes him smile with that answer, completely mesmerized.
"I... I should probably have a much worse time with you than I've ever had," and there's his heart racing, just as the song says.
Crowley blinks a couple of times because of the double negatives and looks at the road for a moment, remembering, and at the last second, he swerves to avoid missing the exit, which ends up flipping them over.
Well, that didn't go quite well.
All he manages to do is lift his arm so that Aziraphale falls on his chest and doesn't get an elbow to the ribs, but the inertia at this speed and the entire highway exit give them a good spin.
I think the Bentley is helping... it's not for nothing. Oh, maybe. Yes. Definitely could. Yes, I think so.
I wouldn't dare say it's the first time they're this CLOSE, because I don't believe it is. But the truth is, it's been a while.
The good thing is that the arm is going to stay there when they regain their verticality. I'm sure you can smell his new cologne... or maybe he's gone back to the old one. And worse yet, it hides a bit in his neck because damn it with these spins, they're going to kill each other one of these days.
Stupid Old Spice. He wears it since it was "New Spice". Well, better that than smelling like seven males, there's a horrendous lotion in Mexico, esoteric, one of those that cures even cancer and gives sexual vigor.
What I don't know is how you're going to get Aziraphale out of there, honestly. They can just sit there in silence, listening to "Somebody to Love" until they get into the city.
They shouldn't be doing this! But look how nice it is here. The truth... is that... it seems like they're about to enter the city, but the road suddenly gets looooong.
Crowley glances at him while driving with only one hand because... now you know why you didn't appear any closer.
He's hugging him! He doesn't want to get there at all.
The demon squeezes him closer because there's never much physical contact, and even less affectionate, but damn it, he could get used to it.
And he puts a hand on his arm. Almost without thinking. The truth is, he's already getting used to this.
Well, we can even take a couple of laps around the entire city. Or how about going back to Monte Carlo like this now?
"Maybe we should get there already, right?" he asks a bit embarrassed after a while, feeling guilty for having him like this, there, maybe... he doesn't even want to be hugging him like this.
"Mmm?" he asks because he was considering going to Monte Carlo... and looking at his perfect curls, thinking about what would happen if he gave him a kiss on the head.
"We could... watch the sunset...
"Where?"
"I don't know..." he doesn't even know what time it is... well, he doesn't even know where the sun is. He strokes his arm a little.
Crowley looks out the window and makes a couple of quick calculations about which hotel must have better views of the desert from the rooftop and heads there because if Aziraphale wants to see the sunset, the sun better start setting. Although it must be like five in the afternoon because the Brits and their bad luck.
"Crowley..."
"What?"
Aziraphale looks at him a little sideways.
"Thank you."
"Ugh," he protests because every daaamn tiiiime he saaaays thaaaaank youuuuuu
"No, no... it's just that... surely if it were just up to me, the world would have ended."
"In fact, if we analyze it calmly, neither of us did much for the cause. Between mistaking the wrong child and then... everything else."
"Maybe... maybe the world wouldn't have ended. Fine. But my world would have ended."
"Well, they disembodied you and burned your bookshop..."
"I mean, stop talking to you. If you weren't so... insistent."
"Oh, well. After hearing you say you want nothing to do with me and ending up in trouble again and again just for me to come to your rescue, I've learned when you're serious but don't really mean what you say."
"It doesn't quite work that way," he protests, squeezing his eyes shut and blushing. Crowley laughs. "Still... you've gone for me. No angel has ever gone for me unless they need something."
"Well, needless to say about the actions of demons in general but... you and I are friends, aren't we?"
"Sometimes I think you say it just so I can say no and you can shout back "We areeee"" he imitates.
"I say it so you say "We areeee"" he retorts.
"We're not... exactly friends."
He sighs, another round of this speech. "I'm an angel and you're a demon, Crowley, we're natural enemies," it sounds falsetto in his head. Okay, okay. Whatever. Good thing they're entering the parking lot.
"I think we're more than friends," he decides just as a young man approaches them, the valet parking attendant.