Warnings: This story is for a writing challenge by the Ineffable Writers, which I'm doing to get us more publicity, sorry to all the Sin City readers... as it's an excerpt from this Wink, wink, nudge, nudge to the new ones.
Disclaimer: Blah blah blah, Neil, don't be a jerk, you gave us permission to write fanfiction.
Premise: Eros, A arrives at B's place and hears moans coming from the room. The terrible thought that B might be with someone else turns into surprise when A discovers B giving love to himself
Aziraphale leaves the cinema with his back straight, hands behind his back, chin held high, and trying to bend his knees thinking if he should go play... what's it called.
Bridge.
Whatever. I mean, it would be weird not to go if it's what the angel always does, he doesn't want to raise suspicions that he's taking over his identity, but he's not even sure where the hell he's supposed to go or what he's supposed to play. He doesn't think it's a sport, to be honest. But then who knows...
Although it's probably one of those games for gentlemen... and not bungee jumping as he's imagining. This would be easier if the angel used his bloody phone. He could look up the usual schedules.
Although maybe there's some... cave painting in his bookstore that indicates something. He can't believe he has to WALK all the way there like this.
You can take the bus.
He's not going to take the bus! If it's the same from here to the stop as from here to the bookstore.
So there he goes, everywhere by bus. They're comfortable and then he meets people.
Rolls his eyes, even leans back a bit.
Don't be a drama queen! But well, okay, walk!
Makes whipping gestures with that "walk!"
More than one person greets him on the street, smiling, although this had happened since the last time they switched bodies.
Returns forced smiles to the people who greet him.
The bookshop awaits you gladly... although you have to open it with keys.
He doesn't even stop to think that... there will be some keys.
Don't perform bland miracles!
Entering the bookstore is not bland!
Yes, it is when there are keys to enter!
He hasn't even thought about it. Looks around in the bookshop because... he's been here many times, but he's never been here alone.
Except for the day it was on fire.
That day it wasn't the bookshop!
No, it wasn't. It's true. In fact, this time he's much happier with your presence. Although the first time you open a book without gloves...
Actually, closing the door and being able to stop standing as if he had a stick up his ass makes him smile and relax, taking off his coat. Music, that's the first thing.
Don't bring a stick up your ass!
Maybe it would be good to put one on and relax your body a bit.
Better not a stick, but okay, there's a gramophone in the corner.
Maybe he should forget about the shitty game and try that.
You can try it, actually. Wait... Try to put a stick up your ass or the gramophone?
The stick. The gramophone already knows where it is and how it works. They're old friends.
You're not going to touch yourself in Aziraphale's body! If you do that without Aziraphale I SWEAR that... okay, I don't know if he'll kill you. But I'll definitely kill you.
But it would give him a tactical advantage...
Actually, you would teach his body something that he doesn't even know exists. If from tomorrow he starts reacting because of you...
That's a GOOD tactical advantage.
Yes... Come on, it is... although we wonder if Crowley usually does... that.
No. I mean, it's like food, or sleeping, they don't need it, but they can learn it.
Yes, I wonder if he... has tried it sometime because curiosity is his thing but...
Maybe this time it will work better.
Why? Is the angel's body already used to this?
No, but I think he might like to see the angel... like that.
I mean, the last time they did this body-switching thing, he thought about it but they didn't have a chance.
Well... maybe something with music first. Not that we suddenly got nervous. He's sure there was some jazz or swing record among the classical music.
Yes, there's some of that.
And wine. That would also help, for sure...
There's also some post-war band music.
Wahoo. He wrinkles his nose. For all hells, there had to be a bloody way to replace all this with... beboop as an accident without a clear culprit. And although it seemed like a good plan, there was no time to be thinking about it... Alright.
Finger snap. Music playing.
Finger snap. Wine in a glass.
Finger snap. Blinds down.
Finger snap. Bookstore closed.
Ugh! Gabriel will come to scold you...
"Fuck. He told you not to do that. Damn, not even that. Bloody hell! For the love of... Ugh! Enough!" he protests trying to stop himself.
As cute and hysterical as he is. The screams Aziraphale has never given in his life.
"Bloody hell..." he stops himself, trying to breathe. "G-Golly" he coughs a bit because this doesn't help him feel less ridiculous. He sighs going for the wine and taking the whole glass and then pouring himself another one.
Would there be a mirror somewhere in the bookshop? And a divan or something would help too...
Well... have you ever sat down somewhere? He SURELY has something for you to sit on. And maybe there's a mirror among the magician's nonsense... space. What's needed is space.
There's plenty of space! Not everyone has a house like yours with three square kilometres and a REVOLVING door... that's another matter.
Plus, now he won't come just from a couple of finger snaps. No, if the problem isn't the actual space, it's the space taken up by things.
Alright, alright... if we're all snapping our fingers more than a flamenco singer.
Space, divan, mirror... wine. And there we go... he sighs standing up, looking at himself in the mirror. And the first thing is to take off his shoes and then his socks... and... what the fuck is this? Sock suspenders? Really?
Have you even seen his feet? Yes, of course he wears sock suspenders, it's very comfortable!
Alright. He didn't want to go through this. I mean, the idea wasn't to see him without pants and with socks on because that's like the opposite of sexy it can get... but there's no way to untie this shit without taking off the pants first.
Actually... it's not going to be obvious sexy. Not even if you take off the socks. He's just going to look like a middle-aged man, dear.
That... is an... issue... for... when he gets... this... things... off. Scissors. He needs scissors. And the underwear, for all the demons. What the hell is this?
Well, you wearing modern underwear doesn't mean everyone likes it.
At least he manages to cut off the sock suspenders with a letter opener and take off the socks. He wiggles his toes.
They're just a bit chubby.
Yes, but... Well, the sight still doesn't convince him. And knee-length underpants DON'T help the cause. Better continue with the waistcoat.
Aziraphale would be DEAD EMBARRASSED if he saw you. Well, yes, that also happened the other way around.
Alright, alright... we're just reminding you. The waistcoat is quickly taken off.
He tosses the waistcoat over the pants and shoes and brings a hand to the bow tie...
Don't wrinkle it!
He hesitates for a moment, looking at it, with his hand on it... and then runs that same hand through his hair leaving the bow tie where it is before starting with the shirt from the bottom.
Ohh... you like the bow tie!
Ahem. Why the hell is there still a bloody third vest under the shirt?
Because that's the proper way to dress! Don't you remember all the layers they used to wear, including tights?
And before that people didn't have heating and I don't see it being cold here.
But clothing looks better that way.
Whatever. Out with the cotton undershirt libido killer. It also ends up thrown around.
He looks at himself again, alone... in boxers and a bow tie... And takes a deep breath before taking off the underpants too.
They're thrown around with a flick of the fingers before he looks at himself again from head to toe.
It's not like nudity itself gives him any special... feeling. And especially knowing that in the end, their physical appearance was more of a choice than anything else.
Still, they had chosen... entirely, but some things changed a bit according to certain habits (ahem... that belly).
He brings his hands to it and strokes it a bit, smiling sweetly and thinking that he shouldn't let that worry him. And the truth is, when he notices that smile in the mirror he does blush.
Aziraphale's sweet smile? Yes, he gives it to you often.
Yes, well... ahem. Alright, anyway... more wine.
No wonder that smile makes you blush. Or that you require more wine.
He lies on the divan, throwing the clothes to the ground now with a kick, looking at the mirror. And then corrects his posture. And corrects it again. And a third time, because he doesn't know how to position himself without looking too slouched to really seem like Aziraphale or too composed to have access and... perspective.
Come on, however you lay down you're always going to be sprawled like a fried egg.
That's... you can't sit with your knees together and your back straight to do this! Alright. To hell with it, sprawled it is, and screw everyone else. He moves again like five more attempts.
Aziraphale's body considers that, despite everything, you're right. There's no way to do this without sprawling.
When he's finally in a position he likes, he looks into his own eyes, moistens his lips, and dares to whisper "Crowley..." before having to cover his face from himself, unable to bear it.
xxxxx
Crowley cautiously turns the corner, keeping an eye out to see if his bookshop is open. Perhaps, if the demon isn't there, he could sneak in and pretend he was lying in wait to kill him.
CLOSED, the sign reads.
He sighs. Who knows where he was. He approaches anyway, peering inside to see if he can spot him through any crack.
Well, he probably won't see much, because he's closed up pretty tight, but... maybe a foot.
He raises an eyebrow. A... foot? He closes his eyes and tries to sense him.
Getting off the divan. I mean, there's a sockless foot that's not hidden by this perspective of the divan, nor that bookshelf either.
He must have... Ugh, fallen asleep on his body maybe... He moves to another window.
And there's stupidly loud music. In fact, I don't know how nobody's come to yell at him to turn it down. Alright, from this one, you might see a bit of hair sticking out over the backrest.
"But what's he doing? And the music at this volume!" he protests, scolding him a bit.
He's... teaching your body so this is easier. And the music helps drown out... any other noise.
All those "Crowley"s he's saying? He moves to another window.
Really, you have the shop too cluttered to see better than what you've already seen what's going on. Buuut... From that window, you can see the mirror, which from this perspective reflects the pile of clothes looking a bit disheveled.
Eyebrows raised. TO THE SKY.
Should we send Uriel back with them?
Because... he's going to... Ugh! No!
His underwear is on top of the pile. The bowtie is nowhere to be seen.
"These are MY... but..." Crowley blushes. "You didn't have to undress me!"
As if your protests were going to be heard...
Crowley thinks maybe he got hot and took it off to sleep...
Think what you want, dear.
Nevertheless, he's going to... snap his fingers to move the divan a bit to see him a bit better.
Alright... He's going to regret it. Well, the divan starts to slowly rotate as you requested. More and more leg becomes visible behind the foot... following its owner's movements.
Nightmares when sleeping?
Yes, of course, that's what they are, exactly.
Well... He wouldn't know!
The divan keeps turning... And the other one stands more on tiptoe.
Soon you'll be able to see where Aziraphale has his hands... semi-nude. I mean... we insist. He's wearing a bow tie.
That's not semi-nude. He opens his mouth WIDE.
Nor is being completely nude.
Don't mess with us.
Ah, look, you can already see clearly where Aziraphale has his hands.
INFINITE shock. But what...? But how?! But... BUT!
Crowley doesn't move.
Crowley doesn't blink.
Crowley doesn't breathe.
Believe us, Aziraphale... does it.
Is it working at least?
Of course it is. More than once.
Because after looking at himself like that... For what feels like an entire eternity and DYING OF EMBARRASSMENT. He takes a step back, hands covering his face, MORTIFIED.
You went to spy and rotated the divan.
I was supposed to be ASLEEP! ONE DOES NOT DO THESE THINGS!
That comes later. Um... apparently demons do.
No! He turns to the car, infinitely... disturbed and snaps his fingers, sealing ALL the cracks.
He's going to suffocate.
He might! But look at what he's doing! At least the curtains are closed. He goes to the car, hands still on his face.
So, what's he doing... what he would do with you if... um... well, if you weren't to be irremediably frightened like you are right now.
Truth be told, Aziraphale wonders if maybe he should invite someone else as well. Another demon? The butcher? The baker? The barber? He might as well start opening the door for them too.
Anyway, he wants to defend himself by saying he doesn't disrespect you, but... after six thousand years, it was now or never. He would have loved it if you had given him permission and he does feel a bit guilty for not having it, but... Something had to be done! And you weren't even... you weren't even there, you didn't have to know.
Okay, practically speaking it's a violation in every sense because you didn't say yes and it's as if you were simply... unconscious somehow. As if you had drunk a lot and he was taking advantage of you.
But... from a devil's advocate standpoint... the truth is, it's hard to defend his case. But he knows that if he had been brave enough to ask you and you had been just a liiittle less afraid of God than you are... you wouldn't have said no.
And... okay, only yes means yes and you haven't said yes and this is your body that can... change but... okay. Great. He's going to have remorse now, because also he didn't plan for you to find out, which doesn't make it much better.
But... well, he's a demon, he's supposed to do evil deeds and annoy the heavenly beings and all that! It's his job!
Although, truth be told, if you hadn't wanted him to stop, you wouldn't have come to seal everything. That has to count for something!
Crowley sits in the car, hands on his face, as red as a tomato and with his mind almost completely blank. It takes him a GOOD while to move. Or to think of something.
Obvious questions appeared in his head at absurd speed. And he tried to answer each one with the eagerness of a quiz show participant:
For a hundred pounds, why was Crowley doing that? In general. Ignoring the concept that it was with his body.
He probably liked it. It was something he... he... he hadn't considered. In fact, it was one of the first things he had observed about humanity, in the Garden of Eden. He had been struck by the love emanating from Adam and Eve during the process... and then the result. If anything was clear to him, it was that... in its beginnings, it was an act of love and an activity with reproductive purposes. The peculiar thing was that everything had deviated in some cases... as it tended to do.
The point was that Crowley didn't have to show his love like that and even less with reproductive purposes...
For five hundred pounds, But why would Crowley enjoy doing that... just at that moment? And with HIS... body.
Maybe he was used to doing it frequently. He... ate with his body. But it was just a physical thing. Like sleeping... but eating had much more charm if done in someone's company. He squirmed a bit in his seat with that, imagining it.
Crowley, in his own body, lying on the divan, doing THAT. And him, sitting next to him watching and commenting on things. Like when he ate. He squeezed his eyes shut because that just didn't work.
For a thousand pounds... How would it work?
He swallows. He could imagine himself next to Crowley... in his bed. Reading. Ahem. While Crowley did that and distracted him. No, no, no. He could imagine himself closer to him. Hugging him? Perhaps Crowley on top of him. Looking intensely at him. And loving him.
Ugh No. No, no, no. This... NO. He already scolded himself enough for frequently wanting him to kiss him... it was absurd. He didn't need him to kiss him, not at all, if he already knew he loved him... and Crowley seemed to be clear about it too. Everything else... were human things.
Still, Crowley wasn't... He wasn't doing that with him. He was doing it alone. In fact, at a moment he knew he WOULDN'T come. In fact, he probably did it frequently in this body. Alone. And that, for some reason, made him feel a bit... confused. Because Crowley whenever he wanted something, he proposed it and THIS in particular he had never proposed. And OBVIOUSLY HE WOULD HAVE SAID NO! He always said no! Maybe he thought he wouldn't want to or that... he would talk too much or that he wouldn't do it well. Or that he wasn't interested. Either way, it was something he didn't intend to tempt him with.
He sighs. He didn't know how to feel about it.