"I think we're more than friends," he decides just as a young man approaches them, the valet parking attendant.
"Wait a fucking minute! What?" Time might even stop.
"But what... did you stop time?" Aziraphale blinks.
"What the hell did you just say?"
"M-Me?" he separates himself.
"Yes. You just said... what did you say?" he needs to hear it again.
"Well... when?"
"Now! Just a moment ago!"
"You said we were friends and considering it, I think... well, pondering the situation, the time we've known each other and..." chattering mode on, again.
Crowley runs out of strength to keep time frozen.
"I think we're more than friends" he concludes just as the noise of the surroundings starts again.
The demon looks at him again as if time were still frozen. Aziraphale bites his lip a bit, nervous.
"Well, friends... do different things."
Surely the valet opens the car door and invites them to get out, but Crowley doesn't move. The angel moistens his lips.
"O-Or maybe I don't even know what I'm saying..." super ultra nervous giggle.
Okay, the car starts moving again with the door still open and leaves. I don't even know if it runs over the poor guy.
"Oh, my..." he turns to look at the guy who fell to the ground, but he seems to be alive, and then at Crowley. "C-Crowley?
The named one stops the car a few meters ahead when he has already left the parking lot.
Aziraphale holds onto the dashboard to avoid flying through the windshield and lets out a very masculine "ahhhh!"
Crowley remains in a deathly silence and doesn't move more than necessary. The truth is, the angel is extremely worried.
"I-If you're not... if you think my perception is wrong, it's okay... t-the valet guy agrees with you. Still, consider that you've known me for too long and..."
"Aziraphale..."
"Ehm... y-yes?" he looks at him a bit disheartened.
"Do you think anyone is taking photos now?"
That's a question that honestly, truly, really... seriously... Aziraphale didn't expect. He blinks.
"Well... the city's surveillance videos... maybe. Although we'll surely convince the guy that it was an accident..."
"I mean on your... side or mine."
"No," he decides after a few seconds. "Do you think so?
"It's a shame..."
"A shame?!" the scandal.
"Yes."
"No!"
"I mean..." Crowley looks at him, and the truth is, right now Aziraphale regrets taking off his glasses because those yellow eyes are there, making him audibly swallow.
The angel continues to stare at him intently.
"W-Why... do I feel like something is about to explode all of a sudden?" Aziraphale asks.
The demon closes his eyes and sighs, letting it go with that.
"W-What?" the angel changes the tone to a considerably softer one.
"Come on, I'm going to park the car" he starts it again, and I don't think he'll let anyone else park it, really. In fact, I don't even think a human could start it, considering that Crowley constantly convinces him that it doesn't need gasoline to move, against his common sense.
Aziraphale looks at him... and the truth is, for a long moment, he stupidly thought that maybe... Crowley was going to kiss him.
"A-Alright..." he responds, squirming a little in his seat without any idea of... why he thought that or what made him... assume it.
He was going to do it, but you told him he was going too fast fifty years after six millennia, and now he's in total uncertainty.
Well, he was going too fast! But now they were so close! And he had hugged him... and... bloody... heavens! He wanted him to kiss him. It was perfectly WRONG. But... he wanted it to happen!
Sigh, maybe now it's still going fast! But it's just... almost ended the world, and they changed to protect each other, and surely if everyone was angry before, they won't want to know how they'll be when they realize what they did. And he told him! And they used to talk about...!
Nevertheless, Aziraphale didn't understand why it hadn't happened... and... he still wanted a kiss! And he hadn't given it to him! He takes the glasses from the seat and looks at them without... really looking at them, opening and closing them.
Crowley parks the car as the angel hands him the glasses without looking at him. He takes them and sighs again.
Aziraphale looks at him sideways and sighs, getting out of the car. Maybe he should have given him the kiss...
The demon looks at him for a moment from inside because... now he slipped away from him. And he slams the door again in total drama and once again worrying for a moment about the car's integrity a second after the "Diva leaving the room" effect.
There goes Aziraphale behind him, holding one hand with the other. The truth is, he even has to run to catch up, but don't tell him! Oh, yes. Because besides, the other one is now walking fast, angry with the world.
"You've seen... uh..." it's just damn, he hasn't seen ANY specific show in the hotel to make conversation again, "that... uh... is there a girl's show?
"No," he goes straight to the bar.
He bites his lip because chasing after him is not his forte, but there he goes, obviously.
Nah, he sits at the bar almost immediately, I mean, as soon as he gets there VERY focused. How he manages to adopt that posture on a high stool is something that can only be attributed to demonic skills. And there goes Aziraphale to sit next to him, of course. Very proper, cleaning the seat a bit with a blow.
"What are you going to drink?"
"The strongest bloody thing they have."
"With an umbrella, please... and a cherry," adds the angel in an affable tone.
Crowley blinks with that, defocusing and looking at him again, turning just a little.
"It's vacation, my dear..." he smiles a little, and... puts a hand on his arm.
"You're not putting a ridiculous umbrella and a cherry in a vodka, angel!"
Aziraphale smiles a bit when he hears him call him angel again and squeezes his arm gently.
"Everything can have an umbrella and a cherry. It makes it fun.
"You're not putting a ridiculous umbrella in a vodka!" he repeats as the bartender puts an umbrella in one of the glasses he's preparing, indeed.
"Well, I believe that AT LEAST you need an umbrella and a cherry to stop being so angry."
Finger snap. Nothing seems to have changed. Aziraphale looks at the umbrella.
"Hmm..." he takes the umbrella with his fingers and removes it from his water-that-was-vodka... putting it in Crowley's vodka, who looks at it in his glass and then looks at him. "It's not as humiliating as you think. In fact... you look good with the umbrella.
The next thing the umbrella does is catch fire while he drinks the vodka in one gulp.
Aziraphale pouts with that. Yeah, well, but... the overall aesthetics...
"For heaven's sakes..." he protests, furrowing his brow a bit. But the fire reflected in the glasses is always... damn it, attractive. He takes a sip of his... water.
And no one will ever see it because it's a masterful move at the speed of light as Crowley manages to lick the bottom of the glass in an instant with a forked tongue.
Show off.
He did it very fast!
So, there you have Aziraphale throwing a tantrum next to him because no kiss, no vodka, no dinner, and no umbrella.
Relax, mate, you've been here for ten seconds.
Well, now one can't even get a little frustrated!
Truth be told, Crowley is surprised he's not complaining about the water.
Well, it's just what he wants, isn't it? Hmph!
"This vodka is delicious."
"Of course, how could you not like the virginity of something," Crowley responds under his breath, without even looking at him.
"Excuse me?"
He does something to the glass with the forked tongue that he might be doing to you. And... he gets lost in that for a moment until he opens his lips a bit. His kiss... he's giving it to the glass.
Crowley stops and looks at him out of the corner of his eye when he realizes he's being watched. There you have him with his mouth half-open and even the tongue visible.
He pulls the glass away from his mouth with a soft popping sound breaking the vacuum. Bringing Aziraphale out of his foolishness... and making him blush.
The demon sighs agaaaaain.
"So? What's the show you want to go see?"
"I-I..."
"
"You were going to check the activities, right?
"Oh, yes... I haven't looked at anything yet," Aziraphale admits, clearing his throat and licking his lips. "Do you want another vodka, darling?
"Yes."
"And without an umbrella," the angel hands him his glass.
He snaps his fingers again, and when he does that, Aziraphale moves the glass away so it doesn't reach him.
"Uuuh, you shouldn't play with the devil," he doesn't actually stop him.
"You're not the devil."
"A demon..." he shrugs as... it's the same thing. Approx. Well, no! Vast difference.
"My demon..." he murmurs with the little glass to his lips before taking a sip.
"Anyway... it's fine."
"Is it?"
"Yes, I prefer this glass."
"Why?"
"Is it... warmer?" he suggests, and Aziraphale makes a face. "What?"
"Well, even if you despise me... the glass..."
"Yes?"
The angel drinks the vodka in one gulp and squints his eyes because... no, he usually doesn't like to fry his taste buds. Crowley looks at him with a half-smile because he already knows.
"Ugh... Come on, let's go."
"Wait."
"What?"
"I haven't finished my drink."
"You already had your drink, Crowley."
"No, not yet."
"But I saw you do it."
"You saw me start it, but I still have a little left."
"But you have nothing left."
"Of course, I do, in my favorite glass. If you stop being so finicky, I'll finish it, and we can go."
He rolls his eyes a bit, impatient. The demon looks at him, smiling and waiting patiently.
"Are you going to order at least?"
"No. It's here."
The angel looks at the bar and then back at him.
"Crowley, if you're trying to make a point..."
"A... point?"
"I mean if you want something specific."
"Oh?"
Aziraphale looks into Crowley's eyes... and for a moment, he wonders if... He blushes.
"C-Crowley," his heart is about to burst.
"Yes?"
"W-What exactly are you thinking?"
"Nothing..." he takes his empty glass, playing with it, turning it around with his fingers, leaning on one corner of the edge. "We're adults, on vacation... having some drinks in a bar..."
Stop thinking he's going to kiss you, Aziraphale, he repeats to himself like a mantra.
"Well... yes. And you want another vodka."
"Yes."
"And I... drank a vodka" he looks at him out of the corner of his eye.
"I know. Mine."
"It was mine!" No one understands why they're arguing about this!
"You gave it to me."
"Because you turned it into water."
"Because you asked for a ridiculous umbrella."
"It's not ridiculous. It's fun. And it makes me smile."
"When did you turn ten again?" he acidly protests because he's getting impatient again.
Aziraphale closes his mouth. Okay. Now it's going to be... they've been at this for six thousand years. And it's the moment. It's true that at the very least he shouldn't be talking about stupid umbrellas. He smiles a little.
Crowley blinks because that wasn't the expected reaction.
"W-What?" Aziraphale whispers because he saw him change his expression.
"Ugh. Nothing. We'd better go," he stands up, gritting his teeth again because... this is taking too long and it was a perfect opportunity, it was even a believable excuse, but now he's made fun of him because a stupid little umbrella makes him happy. As if stupid things didn't make him happy too, and... everything is taking too long, and it's making him hysterical because before either... and you'd think that after all they've been through, this shouldn't be the bloody difficult part.
He searches in his pocket and takes out a ticket turned into a ten-dollar bill... which will turn back into a ticket in half an hour.
Just like before, he had already told him, and it was a bloody good line. And the idiot of an angel had messed everything up (because in his mind, this was his fault). In his mind, the whole scene went like this:
They were in the car. Okay. Point one. Let's set the mood. This part is easy and clear.
So Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy could have been playing from Coldplay's Spotify playlist because it's on the list of Songs Allowed by That Stupid Running Gag. Although, to be honest, we all think it was Radio Gaga or something equally random and unrelated to the scene because of the bloody car.
The point is... THE POINT IS that Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy could have been playing, and later, he would have smiled like an idiot when he heard it again, and secretly"and this is very important because he would never confess it"it would have become THEIR SONG.
In fact, by this point, there were dozens of songs that had been their song. Crowley changed them periodically, just like he changed his hair or his style. Although for some reason, Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy had made it to the top a couple of times.
The thing here is that this time something relevant would have been happening, and it wouldn't have been The Song Playing While He Saved His Life Again And Then He Rejected Anything He Proposed... or The Song Playing In The Background At The Ritz That Worryingly Resembled Elevator Music... or The Song Playing In That Electronics Store The Day He Almost Had An Anaphylactic Shock Because He Thought He Saw Him There But Then It Wasn't Him.
Crowley never had much luck with these things, but at least he could proudly say that it had never been an excessively cheesy and romantic song. Except on one occasion when he watched that movie and for three eternal minutes, it was The Song From That Movie I Watched And Which, For All Hells' Sake, Crowley, You Can't Be Serious.
Anyway, whatever was playing, he would have said it in his dark and sexy voice because in his mind, he didn't lisp, and if anything, his voice was already dark and sexy in itself. If Aziraphale had heard the voice he gave himself in his mind, his pants would have dropped as if he had been walking on an iron plate with pockets full of magnets.
"Do you think anyone is taking photos now?" He would have asked and Aziraphale would have responded in his normal voice because it's actually quite beautiful and sweet, and he doesn't have any particular problem with it.
"Well... the city's surveillance videos... maybe. Although we'll surely convince the guy that it was an accident..."
"I mean on your... side or mine."
"No. Do you think so?"
"It's a shame."
"A shame?"
"Yes."
And pay attention because here came the crucial moment where everything had irreversibly twisted into the absolute failure. I don't know if I've been emphatic enough about the drama. So let's get... EMPHATIC: The tragedy had unfolded here.
Aziraphale, still a bit scandalized, kept protesting and would have asked him WHY. Why. Nothing more. It wasn't such a difficult expression. And in fact, his plans weren't ineffable enough for him not to be able to explain why he did things. In fact, most of the time, he answered with enthusiasm and patience. And come on, this seemed extravagant enough for anyone to want to know why he said that.
So he would have taken him by the cheeks and answered him.
"Because I think this would be worth photographing," and then he would have kissed him.
And that's it.
It didn't seem so difficult. But the stupid angel had to go off on weird tangents AS ALWAYS.
And now he was doing the SAME thing again.
The angel's mouth opens inevitably when he hears that... there won't be a kiss. Again. He even wonders sincerely if it's his hallucination that there would be one at some point.
"And the v...odka?"
"What's wrong with it?" he glances at him.
"Well... well! Excellent time to show off your teetotaler skills," he says frustrated. "Let's go."
Eye roll again, but he follows.
"I think we need a room," he determines, walking in the hotel lobby and looking around.
He raises his eyebrows at that and follows him in silence, letting him do what he wants. Aziraphale walks up to the reception, still... trying to decipher what was stopping Crowley and making him go from having that face of, well, a snake about to hunt... to getting angry and frustrated and not doing what... well, certainly, he shouldn't do. But... since when did he care?
Crowley stays behind him, having an internal drama because no one who drives a flaming car for sixty kilometers just for the aesthetics can ever defend themselves from being more dramatic than the overture of The Phantom of the Opera.
And again, just had to tell him, okay, take the damn vodka, I mean, he wouldn't do that without a bit of... permission from Aziraphale, so he would have gone and absorbed it through his mouth. It wasn't exactly a kiss, but... again, a perfect damn excuse wasted.
Aziraphale approaches the reception and smiles at the woman... asking for the best room they have available.
They'll give you the penthouse... and charge you an exorbitant amount, but if you let Crowley pay for it... you just have to accept the money without wondering where it comes from.
Aziraphale looks at the girl, then looks at Crowley out of the corner of his eye... and the truth is, he wants him to be happy. And somehow, this seems like something he might like. He smiles nervously and nods.
Crowley looks at him because the angel isn't going to make a single zero disappear... well, they'll figure that out later at the gaming tables, looking at the plant on the reception desk and thinking that someone should impose a bit of discipline around here, but it's not his plant, so they'll know how to educate it.
The girl starts to ramble, telling Aziraphale about all sorts of activities that can be carried out in the hotel.
The blonde moistens his lips a bit as he receives the room key and listens to her with patience. Crowley facepalms while waiting for him because "Seriously, Angel, just take a brochure, and we'll figure it out..."
But Aziraphale is quite patient. Much more patient than Crowley. At times, we're even thinking that you should rescue him if you don't want to stay there all night.
He can surely make them put on a rerun of The Golden Girls on that screen on the other side of the reception.
Finally, a goooood while later... here he comes.
While Crowley laughs a bit at the TV and quickly changes the channel to... anything else. American football, for example. Blushing a little.
"I see you have a soft spot for certain... shows," don't think he hasn't seen you. "Ready?"
"What? Nah, I was just... it was on TV; I'd never seen it before," he clears his throat.
Aziraphael laughs, really, but signals with his head.
"Technically, we can live with just one kidney, right?"
"Come on, it's true, I don't think we can find proper kidney pie around here, but I thought you had gotten used to sushi," he makes a gesture leaning a bit to one side.
"No, no... It's just that I think I'm going to have to sell one of my kidneys to pay for this room," he points out. "But I have the details of the best sushi restaurant in the city right here," he shows a leaflet.
"Maybe you can try your luck at the gaming tables..." he takes the leaflet and throws it straight into the trash can.
Aziraphale opens his mouth offended by that, and... he's going to retrieve it, you'll see, because as soon as he gets on the elevator, he brings it back in his hand.
"I'm going to let you have the pleasure."
"Of what?" Crowley smiles when he sees him holding it in his hand again because he already imagined it.
"Of trying your luck at the gaming tables," Aziraphale looks at the leaflet. "Oh! Look at this description..."
Crowley comes closer to see.
"The smooth decor with its breathtaking flowers and exotic plants made up into huge lush Japanese designed arrangements makes a woman, and yes, even a man, swoon," he reads aloud. "Plants, Crowley!"
"Swoon? I don't think anyone is going to faint over some plants. Unless it's not looking at them that does it."
"Probably the plants with you... but, wouldn't you like to go?"
"Sure, why not."
"It's the perfect place for us. Maybe you'll even faint."
"You won't be able to steal my kidney then, don't get your hopes up, Angel. Anyway, I'd like to go shower first."
Aziraphale laughs.
"Anyway, I don't think my kidneys would be suitable for a transplant," here goes the other one with his weird dissertations heading for the elevator. "I suppose they would poison anyone's body," he ponders. "Perhaps for a snake... Although I don't think they would serve any for their size...
"Maybe they could keep them in a jar..."
"You'd probably find something of mine more expensive to keep in a jar.
Aziraphale looks him in the eyes.
"You're right."
He smiles and gets into the elevator, hands in his pockets.
"Nothing that I would sell," adds the angel.
"Then it wouldn't serve your original purpose but your obvious pathological Diogenes syndrome. Except with swords."
"I don't have any pathological Diogenes syndrome! I just like my books! Like you with your sunglasses. Or the car. And you know why there's that matter of the sword!"
Crowley laughs.
"And I forgot to mention the plants."
"I can change glasses and plants without breaking out in a rash," he looks at him out of the corner of his eye, still smiling.
"I'm not sure about the plants at all."
"Well, don't think I have much mercy for those that aren't doing well."
"What do you do to them?" He looks at him sideways.
"It's not something suitable for someone like you," he exits the elevator.
"Oh, come on."
"Your delicate heart couldn't bear it," he smiles, standing in front of the door.
Aziraphale hands him the card they gave him in a sort of... you open it, I don't know how to use this. Crowley takes it and opens the door, entering first.
"Is it... is it nice at least?" he asks trying to peek inside after him, who steps aside to let him in. Actually... it doesn't happen this time, but he takes him by the arm a bit, looking. "What... do you think?"
The truth is, this... is not a room. A small country could fit in there.
Crowley blinks.
The truth is, there are many kinds of luxury; one might think of luxurious penthouses in New York skyscrapers or lavish palaces in Paris or lush English gardens or even a yacht in the middle of the Mediterranean. All these locations advocate for completely different things, despite iconizing the same concept. The idea of luxury had gone through different styles throughout history. This room had stayed in the twenties.
Aziraphale looks at him out of the corner of his eye.
"It's lovely, don't complain!"
"It could be worse... there could be... altarpieces. Although look, there is a crucifix above the bed," he points.
"Who knows what nightmares it's going to give you..."
"With the 14th century, for sure. Nevertheless, there was another very interesting time in my life with those things," he smiles on the side, looking at him from a distance.
"I'm sure I don't want to know."
The demon shrugs, smiling and entering.
"Hey... well, it's big. One can't say no to that."
He stretches his hands towards it from a distance, starting to turn it upside down.
"Hmm... I think you'll have to put that aside," Aziraphale comments.
"This... kind of... things..." he's sweating bullets.
"Uh-huh?"
"Don't respond... well..."
"Well, no wonder," he smiles on the side. "Maybe you've lost your touch."
"It's not that. It's just that all these sacred things," he shoots.
"Like the Angels..."
"They resist me," he smiles on the side.
"There must be a reason," he blushes a bit, smiling.
"I'd like to think it's due to... my contrary nature?" he replies and forgets a bit about the cross, having only turned it 90°, considering that the position of the symbol was what gave it its sanctity or evilness, having it at ninety degrees turned it into a sort of... dull blade or vague traffic sign. It could be a new religion. Leftism. For lefties, progressive communists, and people who don't ask for directions.
"Nothing personal..."
"Personal?"
"Nothing to do with Crowley, all related to the... demon," Aziraphale shrugs.
"Well... what could I personally have?"
"I don't know... maybe it's the hip movement," he walks around the room, approaching the window. Crowley blinks with that, not expecting it. "Any idea what time it is?"
"Summer?"
Aziraphale turns to look at him because for a moment, he felt like he was talking to one of the other angels who had no IDEA how Earth works; the demon laughs.
"You've only had ONE vodka."
"Come on, pick an activity plan while I shower. It may include another vodka."
"The girl told me there's a folder with information here. I'm going to read it."
"Above all, let's not overlook any rules..." he opens the bathroom door, rolling his eyes.
The angel watches him go, sideways, still nervous about this whole thing. Because not a single second has passed alone since... well, he came up with this vacation idea.
And despite the aspirations of the door in terms of occupation, and although his family was proud that he had come so far in the world of enclosures to be working in the big city, he would have liked to be a bathroom door. He would have settled for being a broom closet door... but no. He was a wardrobe door. At least it was an honest job, and he knew a lot more people than that cousin of his, whom his mother always spoke of, who had gone to the countryside to make a fortune as a garden fence.
So cute and sure of yourself... going to the closet. Crowley pretends to have everything under control and acts like this is EXACTLY what he intended, looking for a towel and trying another door.
Aziraphale looks at him, much more attentive than is good when you can't find the bathrooms.
He coughs upon entering when he finds it and just like Aziraphale, the goodness comes naturally... he leaves the door open.
Aziraphale, on the other hand, sits in the desk chair of the room and, having followed him with his gaze until he found the bathroom, raises his eyebrows when he expects the... click of the door closing, and it doesn't happen. He blinks... and moistens his lips.
It's not even half-closed, really.
We are all going to confirm how flexible and malleable an angel's neck can be when you stretch it a bit to see... I mean... come on, it's not that he... didn't have some curiosity when they swapped bodies and all, but this is quite different.
Well, that depends on how much you stretch. If you stretch, you'll see.
Damn it! He's going to stretch even more, even tilting the chair.
He's filling the bathtub and undressing as if nothing, without looking outside.
Because when he undresses completely, he's going to hear the absolute thud Aziraphale is going to make against the floor when he falls.
Crowley raises his eyebrows and goes out to look... he finds him, as clumsy as he is, legs up, flailing, back on the floor. And scared to death.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing. NOTHING!"
He raises his eyebrows and looks at him, crossing his arms. It's just... damn it.
"Ihh! Crowley!" he squints his eyes.
Demon's eye-roll, and he goes back into the bathroom. Of course, the angel spies on him as soon as he hears him move, getting mesmerized by his ass, and he would follow him if getting up didn't seem complex.
Then there's a splash.
At last... he gets up completely... and hesitates a bit before... looking at the chair where he was... looking at the bathroom, looking at the chair... looking at the bathroom. Bloody... ugh, because besides, the door is still open. Still, there's something that he... considers important.
"Crowley," he calls from the bathroom hallway.
"What?"
"Uh... I have something for you here..." he moistens his lips.
"A rubber duck?"
"Yes," he smiles.
"Well, bring it."
Aziraphale sighs... and closes his eyes, crossing the damn threshold of the stupid open door.
Crowley is inside the bathtub, sitting.
"Here," standing in the middle of the bathroom, eyes closed and a rubber duck in a hand that isn't clearly visible yet because he holds it in a clenched fist.
"Come closer, I can't reach."
"Come closer to where, Crowley?"
"Here. Take three steps forward."
"By the way... out there..." there he goes, taking the steps with some care.
"Now one to the left. Aha?"
"The floor was slippery..." he takes it as told.
"Now another one forward. I can imagine, damn carpet."
"Well... and there was also a step. One would think that in these countries they would do it better and..." he does it.
"Another one to the right..."
"Hmm..." he takes it.
"Now a quarter turn to the left."
"This looks like a slow-motion infernal dance."
"Well, you liked dancing that thing... what's it called?"
"The Gavotte."
"That. Now one step forward."
"Have you ever thought about all the diseases you can catch in a tub like this?"
"Sometimes I've had nightmares about someone living to bless it. Now a lateral step to the left..."
"Lateral step... where the hell are you?"
"Just here. Step up a step," he says, and it should be noted that there's no step, so Aziraphale is going to end up falling into the tub because even wickedness comes in different levels adapted to each kind of audience. Although he made him take more steps than necessary just to laugh.
Well, there he goes headfirst because Aziraphale always claims not to trust him, but it's a big lie considering how he's going to get if he keeps eating pastries like he has been. Crowley pulls up his legs and laughs.
In the moments following that last step, Aziraphale had a few moments of reflection that seemed eternal to him. This seemed to be an accident, one of those accidents that happen when one is a bit clumsy and innocent. But falling into the tub where the tempting demon is naked, the tempting demon you've allowed to embrace you today... and who seems on the verge of kissing you, seems to be one of those "accidents" perfectly convenient for the accident victim.
And despite Aziraphale's serious attempts to convince himself that he would never "accidentally" do this in such a way, his first thought upon touching the water was that, if he himself was thinking of this "accident" conveniently, surely Crowley would think the same. So... have you ever seen a cat fall into a filled tub?
Crowley curls up to avoid getting kicked, laughing.
And of course... the easiest thing to do was to blame the only and obvious demon in the room.
"Crowley!"
The named one laughs even more at the protests. Besides, it's not that easy to jump out of the tub with heavy wet clothes, and Crowley certainly doesn't help.
After trying a few times and falling again in the attempt, Aziraphale stops, looking at him with a furrowed brow.
"As a rubber duck, I'd give you... a four and a half," he mocks, smiling.
"Ha-ha."
"Now prepare to die of leprosy."
"I'm going to get out of this tub, and you're going to snap your fingers, and neither leprosy nor water will remain," he scolds him. "Darling."
"Bubonic plague at least?"
"Do you think I want to have the bubonic plague?" he hugs his legs... and looks him in the eyes. In the tub. With him.
"Something has to happen to you," he still laughs, so amused that he has forgotten the... uh... obvious other part of the plan to get him into the tub with him.
"What's going to happen to me has already happened."
"Not even a little cold? Honestly, I don't think I can be wasting..." he makes the finger gesture showing them, but doesn't snap them. "So cheerfully." Now he snaps them, and a towel that was LITERALLY a hand's length away disappears from the towel rack and appears in his hand.
Aziraphale rolls his eyes at that.
"THAT is a waste."
The demon laughs because he was being cynical, and he did it entirely on purpose.
"And yet... you'll have to do it yourself. Or change clothes."
The angel opens his mouth like a fish.
"I'm sure that after a hard agony, you'll be able to survive."
"And besides, you don't intend to fix it."
He wrinkles his nose a bit and makes a gesture with his hands, leaning back still smiling.
"Are you expecting me to go to dinner wet?"
"Are you going to tell me that you're less resourceful than a human to fix that?" he stands up, drying himself with the towel.
"No, it's not a lack of resourcefulness..."
"Then what?"
"It's a matter of principle! You did this; you must fix it."
"You fell on your own."
"I didn't fall on my own; you pushed me."
"And you're invading my privacy," he approaches the mirror and suddenly feels a bit uncomfortable, glancing at Crowley because, in fact, getting into the tub is not what made him uncomfortable. But he wants to change his style and clothes, and he has to try things before deciding, and... that's something he can't watch.
"Not because I want to, I just... was going to give you the duck, not to... Not to get in here! Obviously!" Aziraphale hesitates a bit when he notices that slight degree of discomfort in Crowley. "Alright, alright... I'll fix it," he responds, and... okay, a body movement and... dry clothes, empty bathtub, everything in order.
"See? You do know how."
"Yes, it has never been due to a lack of knowledge. But I don't like to perform miracles lightly," he replies, standing up very dignified from the tub this time.
"The miracle would have been if you changed your clothes," he mocks, looking at himself in the mirror. "Plus, now, with this... immunity... no one is going to come and tell you that you're doing too many."
Aziraphale looks at him with that clothing change issue... and blushes a bit, not responding, going to the bathroom door... and closing it behind him. Of course, he's going to change for you.
Crowley looks at the door and then sighs, shaking his head. Well, the other does too, don't think he doesn't. This is a date.
It's not a date! Or maybe it is a date, but... well, it doesn't matter.
Well, he won't ask him, but... it's obvious that it is. After several hair/clothing tests, he's almost convinced of how the whole thing will be, except for one detail.
He has decided to go for a hipster look, with a short beard and long hair on top, short on the sides, tied in a ponytail. Wearing a short-sleeved black and gray checkered shirt because it's summer... and a scarf around his neck, and... the problem is the glasses.
Aziraphale won't do as many tests, really... but indeed, it's summer, and heavens! The heat of the desert. Although there's air conditioning here. But there he goes with a white guayabera and khaki pants.
And the problem with the glasses is that he is tempted to wear Lolita glasses, with a red heart-shaped frame. Because it's summer, they're on vacation, they're carefree and extreme, and he's sure Aziraphael will burst out laughing. Although they're a bit outside his general usual aesthetic, and that bothers him a bit, but what the hell, it's vacation, and come on, they're an icon of pop culture!
No, no, he'll find you very cute, but... he'll laugh.
Yes, that's why he does it... a bit. Anyway, there he goes. Aziraphale is reading the folder he said he would read, very serious.
"Alright, we can go now."
When he looks up and sees him... he just... lets out a pff... demon eye-roll, and he blushes a bit. But come on, Crowley, play it cool. You knew this was going to happen.
"What?"
"That shirt is different from the usual ones," he declares, blushing a bit too. "It makes you look... uh... different."
"It's summer."
"Alright, alright... I'm also wearing this," he stands up... opens his arms and looks at himself in the outfit too.
"You look very handsome," Crowley smiles.
Come on, if you had hit him on the head, he might be less surprised.
"W-What?"
"Have you decided already?" the demon shrugs and approaches him.
"D-Decided?" he's still in shock, looking at him with heart-shaped lenses all around. And he must have a couple of hearts on his face as well, but without glasses.
"Where to go," he replies with a shrug and a bit of a serpentine movement. The angel ends up blinking and shaking his head a bit.
"A-Ah... yes. Yes. There's, well, um, I found out that this city is the city of choices."
"Well, obviously," he approaches to see, to be honest, he was hoping he would say something about the glasses. Aziraphale looks at him again, sideways, and smiles a bit foolishly again.
"But... there's this place, look," he shows him a brochure. "There's food and drinks, and... a little show... don't hate me, but it's magic and..."
"UUUUUUUGH," THE PROTEST, making draaaaaama.
"Oh, come on, pleeeeease. We can go to the casino afterward," a little smile.
Eeeeeeye roll, you cheeky devil, as if you didn't bring him here specifically for this.
"Alright... I thought about this other possibility," he offers. "There's this restaurant without... a show. Although you'll miss the best magician in Las Vegas. THE BEST!"
"What if we go to the magician's... and then you owe me one, and we come to play?"
"Me... to play?" hesitates. "Okay, but only... because I want to go to the magician. And honestly, it's worth it, you'll regret it if we don't go."
"Sure, crying in the corners," he says with irony, looking at his phone.
"Exactly..." he looks at him. "At least it's in the same hotel."
"And what time is it?"
"Dinner is at nine, the show starts at ten..."
"Ah, then there's plenty of time to drink enough to make it fun."
"And... watch the sunset," he blushes a little and doesn't look at him, actually clearing his throat.
"Ah... right, you did say that. Well then, let's go."
Aziraphale nods, heading towards the door.
"Although I warn you, one single comment about ineffability, and I'll leave you stranded in the desert."
"Well, those glasses are quite ineffable..." he mutters, smiling.
"Excuse me? What's so ineffable about them?" he lowers them a bit and looks over them while they leave.
Aziraphale smiles because even halfway down, they're still... he doesn't know if better or worse.
"It's impossible... to explain how you look with them."
"But do you like them?" he winks, flirting.
"I-I-I... You... I wouldn't have even thought that you could wear glasses like those!" a hysteric squeal. That's DEFINITELY not a no.
"Oh... well, I didn't think you would like them so much," he responds, laughing and putting them back up.
"I didn't say I liked them!"
"No, well, if I had to pay attention only to the things you say..."
"What do you mean by that?" He opens his mouth.
""Vade retro, satanás"" he quotes and shrugs, smiling.
"Well, that's exactly what you should do, but... no. You're stubborn," he protests a little, pushing him a bit."Come on, let's go."
Crowley laughs, walking to where he pushes him. Still, when they reach the door... the angel doesn't let go completely. Staying a little closer than usual, holding onto him a bit by the back of the shirt.
"The thing is, they're a bit like... the umbrella."
"I know they're like the umbrella. I didn't say they were ugly, I just said they're... ineffable."
"You use that word so much it has lost its meaning."
"Inenarrable," he adds, and blushes a bit.
"That just tells me you're either silly, which I know you're not, or you should read more," he teases.
"The one who claims not to read at all tells me."
"Well, I don't..."
"Quite little, to the point that I don't know that ineffable and inefable... are not the same."
"I know they're not the same!"
"I'm starting to doubt... but it's okay, that saves us embarrassment."
"Yes, of course, I embarrass you a lot," eyes rolling.
"You're starting again..."
"Well, tell me, how on earth do I embarrass you?"
"Well... sprawling in a chair at the Ritz instead of sitting properly..."
Crowley raises his hands dramatically, as if pleading to the heavens.
"Even so, I never complain, not at all."
"Oh, good lord," he imitates, disapproving look included.
The angel clicks his tongue, reaching our dear standout fan... the car.
Crowley opens it with a snap of his fingers. Aziraphale looks at the car, hesitating a bit. He would... like to, uh... get in like they were last time.
"Well, you'll have to do it yourself..."
Uh... no. But he's going to get in next to him and sit... an inch closer to Crowley than he usually does, which for the size of the car is quite close.
Crowley starts driving out of the parking lot, not really sure where he should go. And secretly thinking that when he has a minute, he has to look up ineffable and inefable in wordreference. Just in case.
"Well..."
"Yes?"
"The world didn't end..."
"No, it didn't," he glances at him and smiles. Those heart-shaped glasses really don't help your cause.
"And everything... returned to normal," hands on the knees, all proper.
"Well, more or less," he looks at the road.
"Do you feel the car... different?"
"No, but I feel like it's making an extreme effort not to be."
"Well, it was a traumatic experience."
"For everyone," he nods.
"Was it for you?" he asks in a whisper.
"How can you think it wasn't? I arrived in a bloody car on fire held together only by my willpower, Beelzebub came, Satan came, I had no idea what that kid was going to do... whatever his name is. You had been discorporated just two hours before! And I saw the bookstore burn!"
"I thought I might not be able to come back... in fact, I had to throw myself to the earth without a body."
"Yes, I noticed what you did to that poor woman..." he glances at him.
"I couldn't not come back."
"If the kid hadn't... returned your body to you..."
"Would it have been so bad?"
"You would have had to go around possessing people," he looks at him.
"I mean... well, I would still be me."
"Or you would have had to share it with her. I don't think you'd like what she does."
"Maybe I could... have gone somewhere else that didn't require this body," he glances at him for a moment.
"Like where?"
"It doesn't matter, I prefer to be here. I've gotten used to it, and... I've finally learned to use the tube," even though he was thinking of Alpha Centauri... really.
"Still, one of these days, I'm going to teach you to possess a body," he responds, and even you can't be so foolish as not to notice what you just told him.
Aziraphale raises his eyebrows and looks at him for a moment, nervously. He moves his fingers on his knees.
"Do you think I don't know?" he asks... ahem...
"Well, you don't seem very adept. Isn't the host supposed to be... unaware?" he looks at him, clearing his throat and ignoring the implication. "Besides, imagine if they hadn't returned it to you... I don't know if it would have been the same if every time we met, that lady was there to comment on the situation," he looks around, now out of the city, finding this a good spot. He pulls off the road onto the shoulder, stopping the car. "Not to mention, again, the issue of letting her continue her profession... and I don't mean as a medium, as you told me," he adds, trying to picture Aziraphale in Madame Tracy's body while she... entertained gentlemen every afternoon except Thursdays.
At first, it had given him a twinge of jealousy, but then he had imagined him making comments, providing interesting facts, and offering polite observations in the midst of all the exchange.
"Excuse me, sir, but I truly believe it would help if you took more fiber, and maybe you should see a doctor; this really isn't normal."
"Now that the conversation has dwindled, does any of you happen to know the origin of the term used to describe this activity? It has a very curious origin from the Middle Ages..."
"You won't mind if I start doing crossword puzzles while you finish; honestly, this part always bores me a bit."
And it had actually seemed amusing to him, though the flame of doubt about whether he would truly start enjoying it was not easy to extinguish.
"Good Lord!" he squints his eyes with some displeasure/half scandalized. "Thank goodness we never got to... I could have dispossessed her if necessary, you know? I was just being kind."
"Of course, of course," he laughs.
"No, no. Of course. Come on, everyone is free to choose the profession that suits them best, but that's clearly not one I would choose."
"Still, it surprises me that you chose one of... our souls."
"Who?" he looks at him, not understanding.
"Madame Tracy... she won't be accepted into heaven with that profession."
Aziraphale moistens his lips with the mention of "our souls," which puts Crowley back into the wonderful Team Hell he currently doesn't like being in, by all means, let the demon stay.
"If it consoles you, he didn't even want it; he just made a mistake when he took a stroll down there."
"Their souls... Regardless of her profession, Madame Tracy IS a good woman," he looks towards the desert, squinting his eyes.
"I assure you, if I made the rules, they would be very different..." he defends himself, also looking into the distance. Aziraphale moistens his lips.
"I don't know how we might eventually have to go back there," he admits.
"There? I to heaven and you to hell."
"Well, eventually, they'll decide that what happened didn't happen, and everything will go on as usual, and..."
"I don't want to..." he whispers.
"And what do you want?"
"To think that eventually I'll want again," he jokes, looking at him sideways, moving his hands on his knees because... being here, with him...
"To want... to go back? If it consoles you, I think Gabriel will have a bit more respect for you from now on."
"What I mean is that eventually we might need to go back. And if that's the case, I don't want to be as infinitely unhappy with the idea of going back as I am now."
Crowley looks at him sideways for long moments and then turns to the horizon, smiling a little.
"Uh... and also..." Aziraphale doesn't look at him, although he senses that Crowley does." I'm not thrilled about you going back either."
"The sun is nearly gone..." the demon begins in a whisper, looking ahead. "The lights are turning on... a silver shine that stretches to the desert," he turns to him. "We've stumbled on a view that's tailor-made for two. What a shame those two are you and me," he recites, mocking him a bit.
"You know interesting songs... you could have sung a different one," Aziraphale half scolds him but smiles.
"Some other girl and guy, would love this swirling sky, but there's only you and I... And we've got no shot," he sings, mocking, moving his hand a bit. Pointing to the sky and then to the two of them.
"In that, you're right," Aziraphale agrees, blushing a bit with a fast-paced heart because... they're in the damn desert watching the sunset, and Crowley is singing to him with heart-shaped glasses. Damn it!
"This could never be," he points to him and then to himself. "You're not the type for me, and there's not a spark in sight. What a waste of a lovely night," he finishes, pointing to the sky again.
And with each line, Aziraphale thinks that he definitely couldn't be more wrong. Not at all.
"It's the PERFECT song for us."
"You have no idea... where it's from," Crowley laughs, noticing.
"Oh... didn't you just make it up?"
"No, of course not!"
"Oh, well... it fit so well. And it's completely your style," he teases.
"Don't be silly!" he protests because it's from a stupid romantic movie, so even worse.
Aziraphale laughs a bit, watching him protest, and in the end, it feels so good here. Here, right here with him, in the car, in the middle of the desert, talking about silly songs. He could be here for eternity. So... time for a moment of a love-struck idiot face, on.
"It's perfect for you, being all... ridiculous, that's why I sang it to you."
"Ridiculous," he laughs.
"Yes..." he looks at the sky again and then at him.
Aziraphale glances at the sky where he looked and moistens his lips, thinking just for a second what would happen if... he were the one to kiss him. He shakes his head at the idea.
"I don't go around singing those things to you."
"Which is quite weird."
"Weird? No, it's not weird. You say it as if I were going around singing everything to everyone. It would be different... like pulling coins out of your ears, for example. But you don't like that."
"Don't start," he protests, rolling his eyes and tilting his head back in drama. "Anyway, I don't go around singing normally," he adds.
"Thank goodness... who knows how many people you'd enchant."
"Although, unlike your magic business... I don't mind you singing to me," he clears his throat a bit.
"Maybe that's why I only do it with you," he glances at him.
"That seems healthy."
"I don't think my health would be in danger otherwise."
"Mentally healthy."
"To avoid you complaining... okay. No more songs for you," eyes rolling.
"No!" he protests. "Come on, you're too sensitive."
"No, no... it's done," he gestures with his hands as if to say it's over now... although he smiles a bit, but it's not that easy for him either.
"Crowley," he whines a bit because it's NEVER Crowley who declares that things are over. "That's my line, don't steal it! Or I'll start singing something to you, and you'll die."
"What? A hymn?" he responds, dead laughing.
"The 'Hallelujah' suits you more."
"Is that a hint?"
"A hint of what?"
"I'd like to know that myself," he squirms, looking at the horizon again, and at the rate they're going, it must be almost completely dark by now.
"Not really..."
"A-Although... well. As you said when we arrived, everything has changed to some extent..."
"Are you saying you might start appreciating good music for a change?"
"For a change, perhaps I could start appreciating some things."
"Well, I'd say you already appreciate some things."
"A good wine and a good meal, yes," the angel replies, rolling his eyes because he was referring to... something else.
"Books... I..."
"You?!" he looks at him slightly scandalized. The demon smiles and shrugs...
"Crossword puzzles," he continues. "Concerts at the Albert Hall, Shakespeare's plays."
"That's true," he nods, smiling a bit.
"The champagne at the Ritz, sushi... St. James's Park."
"Okay, okay... SOME things, yes. I meant these weird things you like and that... well, I've had to endure."
"Like what?"
"The music you just sang to me," he teases, smiling. Crowley rolls his eyes. "Or the car," as if Aziraphale didn't like it as much as he does. He even pats the seat. "Or... heavens, those glasses, my dear."
"Of all the things that could be on that list..."
Aziraphale laughs.
"For example, your company as the most unbearable thing of all," but you like it, it was the other condition for being on the list.
"Well, that... is perfectly obvious. But you insist so much that, well... we have no choice but to see each other."
"It's part of my ineffable demonic plan," he responds, looking at him sideways.
"Now you have an ineffable plan too?" he laughs a bit.
"One? I've had a million in the last six thousand years!" he looks at him all scandalized.
"If there are so many, they can't be so ineffable. What's the current plan?" he looks at him out of the corner of his eye.
"Make you fall."
Aziraphale raises his eyebrows and looks at him. Crowley smiles.
"F-Fall?!" the angelic scandal again, the demon looks ahead again, still smiling. "Come on, you want to lead me completely down the path of evil," he protests a bit, thinking about how he intends to do this.
"In love," he adds in a whisper, starting the car at the same time, without looking at him.