Just a few minutes after being at the poker table, Crowley is already exercising his charming temptation over a voluptuous girl who approaches him with a big smile.
"Hello."
Crowley continues with his cards, playing with them, opening and closing them because besides not knowing how to sit properly, he doesn't know how to stay still.
"Eh?"
"I like your glasses..." she smiles at him coyly.
"It's not the first time I've heard that... and here I was thinking they were ridiculous." He smiles sideways.
"They're different," she moistens her lips. "Do you win or lose?"
"You're here, you tell me..."
"For my taste, everything with you is win-win."
Crowley smiles at that. There's an unwritten basic rule in casinos, people are there to make money. If you're losing, they'll offer you drinks so you don't leave; if you're winning... you'll be surrounded by pests who want a piece of that luck.
And what's the rule for 'flirting with Aziraphale without kissing him as you should'?
Being a complete idiot is factory standard.
"My name is Rose..." She extends her hand with painted nails, almost as feminine as Aziraphale tends to be. No, nobody is more feminine than Aziraphale.
"Hello, Rose. I'm Anthony." Crowley takes her hand and gives her a soft kiss on the knuckles. (See, no problems with that.)
Almost as feminine. Almost not. Damn it, Crowley. Knuckle kisses?! Seriously?
Well, he's not going to shove his tongue down her throat as soon as she says her name!
We're not talking about that!
"Pleasure to meet you, Anthony." She giggles a little.
"Likewise."
"Where is that accent from that I can't quite place, Anthony?"
"From... down below. A lot." And he insists and insists on this kind of jokes.
"Australia?" She laughs, not understanding the joke.
"No, but it's pretty close."
"Well, down there they do a very good job of making handsome men, I can guarantee you that," the not-so-subtle girl assures him, putting a hand on his arm.
"Oh, yeah, of course. That part, um... thanks. Where did you say you were from?"
"Knoxville, Tennessee..." a little affection in her voice. "Are you here alone?"
"Nah," he wrinkles his nose a bit and smiles sideways, shrugging.
"Oh... lucky girl. Why did she leave you alone?"
"He got hysterical and went for a drink. And now he must be... reading the menu and learning the ingredients of the cocktails or something."
"Oh... a he. Um... really? What a waste!" She half-protests, frustratedly.
"A waste?"
"Well, why did he get hysterical?" She changes the subject a bit.
"I think he enjoys it. Do you want to sit and play with me? I invite you to this round."
"Of course! You can... well, tell me if you want. Or... tell me something else. Or forget about him and have fun with me," she smiles at him.
"Tell you... what?" He pulls out the chair and lets her sit, indeed paying the initial bet so they can be dealt cards.
"I don't know. Something interesting?" She flirts a little.
Crowley considers it, because he's on vacation and picking up souls one by one has never been his cup of tea, but... There couldn't be anything so bad about seizing an opportunity.
I mean, all that stuff about his own side with Aziraphale and rebelling against heaven and hell was all well and super romantic for the first five minutes. But then... what? The angel had a quiet and comfortable life... and... well, in the end, so did he.
While hell wasn't exactly a paradise, neither was a life of constant fleeing and rebellion, hiding from everyone in constant paranoia.
He had a job, something that, while maybe if God had had a career counselor, it wouldn't have been what he would have told him he wanted to do; at least by now, he was good at it, recognized among his own, and even enjoyed it sometimes.
Also, although he loved Aziraphale very much, everything a demon can love someone, as much as it annoyed him to admit it, he had no doubt about that. It was also true that the angel was simply unbearable at times.
All the dinners at the Ritz and the casual encounters at St. James's and the varied outings were delicious, enough to almost die trying to preserve them... but in part they were because he knew there would be a point where he would return home and the angel to his bookstore, where they could be quirky and irrational in their own way without constantly getting on each other's nerves.
And although he wouldn't mind if they were more... frequent. There was a point where he needed to leave and breathe. Even if it was just to go deliver paperwork to Beelzebub or to water the plants. Go out, clear his head, miss him a little, and then come back at night eager to see him and tell him things.
That plan, truth be told, conflicted a bit with a life of outcasts, so as much as he had enjoyed standing up to them and leaving them all speechless, it would be better for him to start ingratiating himself with them again. Even if it was just enough to let him go about his business without too many questions.
"I can be good at listening..." she assures him almost as if tempting him and not the other way around.
"And yet I'm not sure what you want to hear."
"I don't know, you seem like a fun and slightly mortified guy."
"Mortified?"
"Yes. A bit frustrated... I don't know if in love or in sex" she does a "eyebrows, eyebrows" and laughs.
He blinks a couple of times and turns halfway to her. Oh. A professional. She smiles at him. Finally, she seems to have gotten it. It's about time.
"I can help you with that."
"Mmmm... Nah, I don't think I need help, but don't go too far."
"Do you think the guy you came with needs it? I'm flexible."
"Oh... yes. Definitely. I'm sure."
"Oh! Perfect. What do you want me to do?"
"Go over there and... propose to him like you did with me. He's a bit thick-headed, you're going to have to insist."
"Ohh... who is it?"
"And he might tell you no politely, don't mind, he's quite shy," he adds. "He's blond with blue eyes, dressed all in white with a bow tie. Just think of your third-grade literature teacher and you'll find him."
"Hmm... Okay. It's just that to do that I would need... you know..."
"Uh-huh?" he passes her a couple of big chips, because who cares, anyway. The girl raises her eyebrows slightly, almost imperceptibly.
"Very well, perfect."
Crowley smiles, showing his teeth, imagining the angel's reaction when he tells him what just happened!
That's exactly what's going to happen SEVERAL minutes later because while Aziraphale is at the bar waiting for drinks, Gabriel appears in one of the empty glasses someone left behind, calling him out loudly and giving him the FRIGHT OF HIS LIFE. Literally trembling a bit, he reaches out his hand for the glass.
"Aziraphale? Are you there?"
"G-Gabriel... hello, lovely to see you..." couldn't be more fake. He smiles anyway.
"Where are you? I can barely hear you."
"A little far away..."
"We've been to your library in Soho, but you weren't there."
"And what do you need?" He frowns at that.
"We have good news. You need to come up here. We'll be waiting for you in half an hour."
"W-What? Gabriel... I'm quite busy."
"Look, we're not talking about the usual stuff. Your case regarding recent events has been reviewed..."
"I don't particularly feel comfortable going up under that pretext..."
"It's good news, Aziraphale."
"I-I understand..."
"They're willing to forgive you, so don't make us come looking for you."
Aziraphale moistens his lips with that... Gabriel moves in the glass's reflection trying to understand what's going on around him.
"Is that a roulette?"
"I'll be up in a few minutes, Gabriel," he assures, moving a bit to block his view, and if he were a regular human, he's sure he'd be sweating like... well, a beast. Which sounds a bit absurd.
Gabriel fades from the glass and Aziraphale turns to look for Crowley, absolutely hysterical, coming face to face with Rose. Poor woman is going to pay him little to no attention, but she's going to get a good tip without even having to do anything (she was going to get it anyway... Aziraphale assures).
Yes, even though he's following her, don't think he's not. It's just that he's running, paler than usual, followed by Rose, up to Crowley, who is already laughing, imagining the scene.
It was a good scene, I agree, in fact, it's just that he's coming with the panic you thought he would.
"Crowley!
"Eh... Yes, Aziraphale?" the chuckle.
"I have a HUGE problem."
"Come on, it can't be that bad," he dismisses without even looking at the cards.
"No, no... It's terrible!"
"There's no need to get so scandalized, they may have mistaken you for a human," he takes the new cards he's just dealt and loses the entire hand because he wasn't paying attention.
"They haven't mistaken me for anyone, I knew perfectly well who I was talking to!"
"Come on, all the better then, you must have seemed attractive to them..."
"What?!" he asks in panic, Crowley smiles. "They have never found me attractive!"
"Oh, come on..."
"Who knows what they thought, but I don't think it has anything to do with finding me attractive."
"Well, surely this has to do with money, but come on..."
"Money? What money? They said they had good news but I highly doubt they're going to give me money. They've been in my bookshop."
"Well... I mean, they are good news..." he assures and plays the last hand, losing miserably because he hasn't even seen the cards. "But what does the bookshop have to do with it?"
"They were looking for me!"
"Well... I mean, yes, but don't get paranoid."
"How can I not be paranoid? And if they... what if it's a lie? What if they kill me?"
"You're not going to die from this, I didn't even expect you to actually accept!"
"It doesn't seem like a question, though!"
"Just tell them no..." eye roll.
"I can't tell them no, Crowley."
"What do you mean you can't tell them...?" he stands up and takes him by the shoulders. "Can you calm down?"
"No, I can't calm down. I have to be there in half an hour..." he whines, putting a hand on his chest again.
"Excuse me?"
"What do you think they're going to do to me?"
"Nothing you don't let them."
"I wish it were that simple" it's just... the way he looks at him. What if this is his last half-hour here? What if... it's the last time he sees him? Drama queen on.
"Of course it's that simple. This is a job for her."
"Who's her? Michael? Even if it's a job for her... I don't like the outcome! Why are you so calm?"
"Michael? He said his name was... I can't remember. But it wasn't Michael."
"Doesn't matter! He says it's good news... what if it's not?"
"Just tell them you're not going."
"I can't just tell them no like that."
"Let's see..." rolls his eyes and there he goes to say it. Aziraphale's WTF face.
"What are you doing?"
"Just telling them no for you."
Several blinks from the angel.
"Crowley, I'm talking about Gabriel!"
"Gabriel?" he glances at him, paralyzed. "Archangel fucking Gabriel?"
"YES!
"¿What... W-What...? What?"
"He insists they're good news, but..." Aziraphale brings his hands to his face.
"But what? I don't understand anything."
"I was at the bar a few minutes ago. And he appeared in one of the glasses to tell me that... they have good news and that I should go. He gave me half an hour."
Crowley raises his eyebrows and takes a step back.
"He insisted they were good news... but the good news..." Aziraphale keeps going.
"W-What good news?"
"I don't know... they could have decided ANYTHING, Crowley."
"Do you want... Do you want me to go?"
Aziraphale looks at him despondently, because this time he really has no IDEA what they're up to.
"I'm going to go," he decides, furrowing his brow.
"No. This could be anything, Crowley."
"They might try again!"
"He said they were willing to forgive me... and not to make them come looking for me."
The demon moistens his lips, not entirely sure about that.
"Maybe they're going to... I don't know. Give me a bonus," he tries to joke and fails miserably. "Crowley... i-if I don't come back, I..." he hesitates, unable to find the words. "Please don't use my books just to rest your feet. And don't drink all the wines in one afternoon!"
"Angel, bloody hell!"
Aziraphale looks him in the eyes and raises a hand to take off his glasses, he lets him, closing his eyes.
"Enjoy Earth, okay?"
"No!"
"No, no, no. Promise me, my dear."
"I'm not going to promise you anything. Let's run away. Let me go... Aziraphale!"
"Wherever we "run away," they'll come after us. This is kind of... Shakespearean. I'm going to come back. This is just an IF..."
"L-Let's go. Let's go to the car. I'll take you and we'll discuss it... I'll go up with you if necessary."
Aziraphale looks at him and it's just that... he doesn't want to prolong this farewell and make it more dramatic but... it's just that!
"You're not going up with me... b-but let's go to the car."
"I'll go up with you and set the bloody whole paradise on fire if necessary!"
The angel smiles a bit at that, because look how cute he is.
"No one's going to... no. No, because... then it's a guarantee they're going to kill you outright. I'm going to come back. Didn't I come back last time? And from hell, which should have been worse..."
"But that's different!"
"Even this time is different."
"No! They were supposed to leave us alone, what the hell is wrong with them?"
The angel sighs with him.
"Okay, okay, I know" he hesitates, thinking if this has something to do with his earlier thoughts or with what he's been told. Come on, he doesn't believe AT ALL that neither of them has ever been angry with heaven. And Gabriel had said it was good news. "Come on, there's no need to panic.
"I'm not panicking... I'm angry."
"I think we're making a mountain out of a molehill," I don't know if he's saying this to Crowley or to himself.
"Sure, because they're perfectly believable and reliable!" he protests sarcastically.
"I know. I know. But... it is what it is."
"And reliable and friendly and charming," he keeps protesting.
"Let's not stir the pot anymore. I need you to promise me."
"I'm not going to promise you shit, angel," he opens the car.
"Please?" puppy dog eyes in action
He squeezes his eyes shut because that's BLOODY TRICKERY.
"You can... you can burn my wizard stuff and..." he gets into the car. "And do some things to show your anger and after that... you need to enjoy your time here. Do you hear me?"
"Don't talk as if you're not coming back," he's almost crying now.
"I am coming back, just... if I don't come back. Or if I don't do it soon for any reason. Promise me!" And he himself has tears in his eyes now. Um... guys, this is a COMEDIC story.
"If you don't come back, I'm going to BURN ALL YOUR BOOKS. Not just the wizard stuff."
Aziraphale sobs at that, smiling a little.
"And your wine collection!" he exclaims, thinking that what he's going to do is get a three-pair hangover, fall asleep, and not wake up until the British Isles are submerged under water, which will happen in approximately a couple of hours if Adam doesn't fix the polar caps soon.
"Crowley, please!" he takes his hand.
"Don't say please! And the pastry shop on Hopkins Street... kaboom."
"Listen to me," he strokes his hand.
"I'm not listening to you at all!"
"I'm going to... negotiate. Okay? Whatever it takes."
"I'm going to make Albert Hall collapse. And I'll give your bibles to the idiot at the Charing Cross bookshop whose name I don't know, but who is an idiot."
"Okay, okay... I'm going to come back!" he smiles a little. "Maybe I'll get them to make me a demon and it turns out we're finally playing on the same team."
"I don't think that would be much better. You'd be a horrible demon."
"It's quite possible. Don't say that when you complete the recommendation letter."
"I'm not going to write you a recommendation letter," when they leave the city, Crowley snaps his fingers again and they appear on the M25.
"Really?! You're appearing here?" Aziraphale half-protests noticing it.
"You can tell them about the traffic..."
"Okay, okay... they DON'T CARE about that."
"Well, I do."
The angel glances at him sideways and... a thousand and one other things come to mind to do with Crowley in these minutes that aren't... watching him drive in M25 traffic.
"I'm going back. Whatever they do. Come on... maybe it's something good."
"It's not going to be something good!"
"Crowley, don't make this worse. Could we stay optimistic, please?"
"I'll go up. Give me your hand."
"No. No. You're not going up. I don't even know what they intend," he pulls his hands away.
"Then let's disappear!" he snaps his fingers again and they appear in Sydney.
"How long do you think it will take them to find us?" he asks, softly, starting to resign himself completely. "And what do you think they'll do once they find us?"
"Ugh. Shut up," he protests because he detests his irrefutable logic. He snaps his fingers again and they're back in Soho.
"It's not all lost, my dear... I'm going... in fact, maybe we should say goodbye like any other time I go upstairs."
"I don't care, I wish they would kill you, angel. It would be easier for me."
Aziraphale has to wipe his eyes with that diabolical statement because he knows it's NOT TRUE.
Crowley crosses his arms, not looking at him. He approaches him and quite gently, gives him a little kiss on the cheek. He stops frowning suddenly, turning to him, who looks at him almost as if he hadn't just done that with that guilty look he puts on... when he is.
"Call me."
Crowley looks all desolate for a second.
"Yeah, well. Whatever. Maybe. If I remember."
Aziraphale also looks desolate with that.
"Don't lose my file... I'll be watching over you," he assures, opening the door. The TRAGEDY. And was he not even going to kiss him now? Come on... if he didn't kiss him now he wasn't going to kiss him ever. Or maybe he should kiss him... or something. At least a goodbye hug. A distant one.
Crowley turns his head because he's about to cry and prefers to seem cold-hearted. The angel crawls down from the caaaar and the demon moistens his lips holding onto himself to not turn to look at him.
"Ugh... How the hell are you not even going to look at me!" Aziraphale protests once under the car, turning to look at him.
"Fuck, angel!" he protests.
"At least say goodbye to me with a sad and desperate face with your hand, or at least say goodbye to me a little better..."
"Fuck you," he says goodbye, starting the car.
Aziraphale takes a little hop back, letting him go and squeezing his eyes shut. He moistens his lips and... snaps his fingers that will change the color of Crowley's car to yellow and the whole outfit to one very similar to his own. Ugh, and off he goes to the heaven.
Crowley almost runs someone over because of that.
Well, Crowley almost runs someone over every time he gets in the car so don't try to impress us with that.
Rolling eyes.
Ugh! What if he takes him tied to his leg like a snake? What if they kill him in the process?
He was going to come up with you, IDIOT.
Yeah, yeah... and maybe he was going to die in the process. In fact, maybe he'll call you while he's spinning around out there.
Get your damn self to heaven, you're going to be late!
Ugh! UGH! Fine. He's going to come up in a perfect bad mood, as usual. Or he might, actually, a little more than usual. Frowning, there he is... surely a little late. But not that much.
And they're all waiting for him in the sterile room with large windows.
"Hello..."
"Aziraphale... my boy," Gabriel's forced and unbearable smile is the first thing to approach him.
He smiles, much more forced than it hurts to smile, and mind you, he usually smiles forcedly.
"Come closer, come closer... don't be afraid, it's not like we're going to burn you!" he laughs as if that were the funniest joke ever.
Aziraphale stops smiling with that almost completely, taking a step back.
"What's going on?"
After laughing a little more, Gabriel approaches him until he pats him on the back.
The infinite tension, but he can't do anything. The others look at Aziraphale with disgusted faces.
"Come on, come on," he smiles like a used car salesman. "I feel you incredibly tense. Where do you think you are? It's clear that this is heaven, here we preach forgiveness and mercy!"
"Well... considering the circumstances in which we last saw each other..." he murmurs and then smiles a little. "B-But... I-I'm glad to hear that about forgiveness and mercy. It's... reassuring."
"Of course, of course, of course..." he shakes him a bit by the shoulders and brings him closer to the others.
He feels like a dog going to the slaughter. Uriel looks at him with quite a bit of disgust and Michael smiles a little with that evil smile.
"What a miracle you've come up..." Uriel reproaches him. Gabriel gives him a warning look.
"Well... um... and what exactly am I... well, what... what am I doing here exactly?" Aziraphale asks.
Uriel presses his lips without saying more, returning to smile falsely.
"As I was explaining before... the higher-ups have been reviewing your case diligently to decide what to do with you after your actions throughout the Armageddon process. And afterwards."
"I got the impression there was nothing else to do..." he swallows.
Gabriel looks at him and smiles a little falsely like every time he says something he doesn't understand and he's not going to make an effort to understand either.
"What conclusion have they come to?"
"And we've all agreed that an angel can suffer greatly after so long being exposed to humans," he makes a slightly exaggerated disgusted gesture, like a joke. "And of course, he will be forced to make decisions under the effects of deliriums and possible post-traumatic sequelae that will only lead him to choose wrongly blinded by adverse circumstances and stress."
Aziraphale blinks.
"T-This isn't exactly... I mean, well... a-and then?"
"The case, dear friend," he makes a gesture with his hands, with the fingertips together. "Is that you're forgiven and reinstated into active celestial service."
"Uh-thank you," he smiles and nods. Gabriel... I don't want to describe it like that, but he smiles like a shark making Aziraphale swallow audibly.
"And that's why you're going to be assigned an urgent mission and as your top priority."
"All right, I left the teapot on and... oh..."
"Michael..." Gabriel requests, ignoring the teapot comment, she approaches with a somewhat viperine look and hands him an envelope.
Aziraphale raises his hand and takes the envelope, trying by all means not to tremble like a leaf.
"Um... well. Well. Thank you."
"You'll be provided with anything you require to carry out the mission. And remember, it's immediate. Heaven forgives, but it doesn't forget, so you're on thin ice, Aziraphale."
He smiles at Michael, nodding a little and embracing his envelope.
"I-I'll... I'll. Well, I'll send you the list of... requests," obviously ultra-nervous terrified smile.
"A second insubordination won't be tolerated," Michael warns him.
"N-No insubordination. At all. But really, I left the teapot on... and I'll certainly carry out the mission I've been given. As soon as I know what I need... I'll definitely... tell you."
There are several nods.
"Aren't you going to read it here?" Uriel asks, apparently wanting to see his face.
"At home. I'll open it... at home," fake smile. "Um... well, if you'll excuse me. May I go?
"Good day, Aziraphale," Gabriel bids farewell.
"T-Thank you again," he even makes a little bow... and then he almost runs to the stairs to leave. "I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive," he whispers up all the stairs, until he gets home. His whole body is still trembling, from head to toe, and of course, the FIRST thing he does is call Crowley while opening the envelope frantically.
"Hello, this is Anthony Crowley. Um... now..."
"Crowley! I'm ALIVE! You have to come."
"...I'm probably not at home, or I'm sleeping, or working or whatever, but..."
"What?! Crowley... you... yes, you are, I'm hearing you... you have to come. They let me go, but I have a special mission and..."
"After the beep, I'll get back to you. Ciao!"
"What... CROWLEY! Listen to me! I'm here! Clearer signal than yelling that I'm here. I'm at home. COME!"
Beeeeeeeeep.
"What? It's not funny! Why do you always do this to me when I call you urgently! Crowley?"
He's going to receive all of that as a million text messages and it's going to cost him a fortune for being an idiot, for still using the answering machine in 2019... as if we were in the nineties.
Aziraphale hangs up truly irritated. Well, Crowley, well. Where the hell are you? Drinking where?
He makes himself a tea to go and open the envelope since this useless one doesn't respond, because no proper mysterious envelope can be opened without a tea cup to spit into if necessary.
Finally, he sits down... in his favorite armchair, taking a deep breath... and taking a sip of tea and takes out the contents of the envelope.
It's a note on heavy white paper written in golden letters with careful calligraphy that could well be an invitation to a royal wedding, except that the text doesn't mention any dress code or give the address of a restaurant, but rather reads:
"Mission: Kill the demon Crowley."
It's not signed.