So... there goes Crowley into the church, swaying his hips. Hip attempts. He tries really hard. Actually, at one point he thinks he's going to dislocate his hip and marvels at it, sincerely, because he doesn't feel a single twinge. When he opens the church door with a confident smile thinking that... well, maybe he should go in and... start hopping without smiling so much just in case someone sees, but he's not supposed to care about that anymore, that's why he's doing it.
He ponders it, running a hand through his hair and... taking off his glasses, locating the holy water font. If only someone were watching this. In fact, they should see how he opens the jug and sticks his arm in the font almost up to the elbow, just to make it clear.
Maybe they are watching. In fact, there are a lot of people in there.
He almost makes the sign of the cross as he usually does and stops a bit just in case. Come on, what treachery.
Crowley looks at them all and... just thinks about what any father would say if he really knew that a demon was in his church. He smiles sideways at that and... moistens his lips a bit thinking he should at least turn the cross upside down to make this convincing.
Maybe it could make the newspapers or something. A nice feat before trying to kill the angel. Honestly, these were the kind of things that caused a lot of effect, but were not serious.
Now it will be that... Feats...
Ahem. Well, it was something terrible that he would never do.
We see... It's crystal clear that you'd never EVER do it.
And it was a feat because in the end... it was difficult for a demon to do it! And of course he wouldn't do it... but there were worse things and more impactful ones than these if he had to seem convincing.
Crowley opens the bottle, humming a bit of Walk like an Angel, because... damn car, it crashed and he moistens his lips approaching the font.
He must confess that he has always thought that the holy water in churches was a bit dirty... Come on, everyone, EVERYONE put their dirty hands in there... No matter how blessed it was, blessings did many good things, but they didn't sterilize. So whenever he could, he made his own holy water... Come on, if he needed it for something.
Well, okay, but drinking a glass of water and blessing it yourself didn't count for people to see you... do it.
A woman approaches, one of those who... work there but aren't any particularly impressive figure, those who do odd jobs here and there in the church, substitute for the person who collects money from tourists, hire new cleaning staff, organize the stamps... what would be called a housekeeper. She also holds another much higher position, she's the... correspondent of heaven at Westminster Cathedral.
"Excuse me sir, can I..." she freezes upon noticing that he's a... supernatural being. And not precisely an angel!
Exactly... that's why he's there. You wanted an audience.
"Oh... Um... hello.
She tenses up, taking a step back.
"Oh..." she looks into his eyes, behind her glasses, and smiles a little, sideways.
"You... are... you...
"Yes.
"You shouldn't... be able to be here!" she covers her mouth with her hands, she wasn't in the mood anymore to deal with demons and those sorts of things. It had been hard enough to secure this relaxed and low-work position in the cathedral, where she was completely protected from hidden forces, for demons to start being able to enter and wander around like tourists, atheists, or simple art lovers. What would be next? Black masses on Halloween?
"I'm... Crowley. Don't forget that," he looks at her over his glasses for a moment. "I've come for holy water."
"No!"
"Yes. Yes. And I'm going to use it against an angel," he explains, so cynical, feeling a bit empowered with the title and even happier now that he has an audience!
"But how have you..." She blinks because that's absurd, but if he doesn't... if he doesn't know it's absurd, it's bad enough that he's here!
"I'm... I'm special. And the angel I want to kill is special too. It's an angel that doesn't die in the normal way."
The woman takes a couple of steps backwards and almost runs away.
"I'm not going to harm you."
Tell that to the judge, demon!
"Really... In fact, it would be quite useful if, if it's not too much trouble, you reported all this to your superiors," he raises his voice a bit and stands on tiptoes watching her leave. He smiles sideways, satisfied with that, refilling the bottle. Although, okay, okay, he feels a bit guilty for scaring her! (Before he gets scolded)
Enough of a bastard to be worth knowing...
Exactly. Ahem. So he closes the bottle. Sincerely hoping that the woman remembers his name and eagerly twists the cross upside down, thinking that the real Crowley would at least be a little proud of him.
The people sitting in mass start shouting...
He smiles a bit more, TREMENDOUSLY satisfied, almost running to the door... and wanting to tell Crowley... The other Crowley.
Thinking, of course, halfway there, if he might have gone too far. Guilt-guilt. But if this ends up in the news, he'll feel very pleased.
I'm not sure if it'll make... any newspaper, definitely some tabloid.
In some! Of course! It's the cathedral! Very convinced.
Yeah, but the news is damn weird.
Yes...
Anyway, you'll impress him quite a lot.
R-Really?
Yeah, sure... it's those things... a bit outdated but... I mean, they're not done anymore because they're very spectacular at the moment, but then humans send some... specialists. And everything ends up being a gas leak. Or a draft. Or some similar shit. And in the end, everyone goes home to sleep very peacefully. But the idea was very good, angel.
I'd always wanted to do something like that. You know, something paranormal.
Aspirations...
Ahem. Well, there he snaps his fingers to bring the state zombie cop back to reality and... hops into the car, feeling a bit high.
The cop hesitates, unsure of what just happened.
"Come on, Bentley! Start!" he says, all happy.
And Bentley does.
"Jojo was a man who thought he was a loner but he knew it wouldn't last, Jojo left his home in Tucson, Arizona. For some California grass. Get back, get back. Get back to where you once belonged"
"It's temporally!"
"Sweet Loretta Martin thought she was a woman but she was another man. All the girls around her say she's got it coming but she gets it while she can"
The car starts moving again, slowly
"Come on! BENTLEY!" he yells. "I just flipped a Christ in the church! I deserve more speed!"
"Christ you know it ain't easy. You know how hard it can be, the way things are going. They're going to crucify me"
Speed up a bit.
"That's what I'm thinking. They're going to crucify me!"
"Saving up your money for a rainy day, Giving all your clothes to charity. Last night the wife said, Oh boy when you're dead, you don't take nothing with you but your soul, think"
"It was for a good cause!" he exclaims... wanting to see Crowley... really wanting to see him.
"Finally made the plane into Paris. Honeymooning down by the Seine, Peter Brown call to say you can make it O.K. You can get married in Gibraltar near Spain"
"Let's... let's go to the bookshop," he insists. "Don't let him, seriously."
Seriously, you have a lot of faith in the damn car.
Yes. A lot. This man has a lot of faith in anything it seems.
Not only is he not going to take him because he doesn't know where it is, he's not going to stop because he barely controls the radio.
Maybe I should call him... I think he's confusing Siri with the car, that's what's happening.
"I should call him. How do I call him?" he asks more to the air than to the car, you know, to put less pressure on you, dear Bentley.
"Ooh I need your love babe, Guess you know it's true. Hope you need my love babe, Just like I need you. Hold me, love me, hold me, love me. I ain't got nothin' but love babe, Eight days a week."
"Yeah, yeah... I-I'm getting to that!"
He was mocking you.
Ugh! He stops the car a couple of blocks away from the bookstore.
Oh. He is going to... go. Okay. It's... It's fine. OK.
No, actually... he was... he was seriously considering it. That's why he stopped because once he gets there, the hype has already worn off. Or at least diminished a bit, and he thinks that... well. What if he really risks it all to go? And if... come on, they've already seen each other today at the movies. Maybe he should just... Be a sensible angel. And sensibility included... well... sticking to the plan.
That doesn't mean you can't spy a little.
He sighs a bit, hating all of this, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning back dramatically in the seat. He almost looks, with that drama, like Crowley himself and not Aziracrowley. He doesn't even know if he's really there. Is he... reading in the bookstore?
He's very... engrossed in a book. Yes.
"It's absurd... that I'm SO eager to see him. He's probably not even half as concerned... which is weird. He's ALWAYS the one who comes after me," he murmurs, opening the door.
"Something in the way she moves attracts me like no other lover. Something in the way she woos me. I don't want to leave her now. You know I believe and how"
"Oh come on!
"Somewhere in her smile, she knows. That I don't need no other lover. Something in her style that shows me. I don't want to leave her now, you know I believe and how"
"That's not true" he yells
"Something in the way she knows. And all I have to do is think of her, something in the things she shows me. I don't want to leave her now, You know I believe and how"
"You're doing it on purpose! Ugh!" He gets out of the car, slamming the door in frustration. "Damn car, almost as frustrating and unbearable as its owner!" he shouts as he walks towards the bookstore.
Well, there the car stays.
Of course it stays there, it only lacks chasing him with its impossible music!
It's not like it's going to do anything else, right?
Who knows! With Crowley's horrendous tricks! He glares at it, almost as if willing it not to follow him, then carefully rounds the corner, looking into the distance to see if his bookstore was open. Perhaps, if it wasn't there, he could sneak in and pretend he was lurking to kill him.
"CLOSED"
He sighs, wondering where he could be. He approaches anyway, peering inside to see if he can spot him through a crack.
Well, I don't think... you'll see much, because he's closed it pretty well, but... you might catch a glimpse of a foot.
He raises an eyebrow. A... foot? He closes his eyes and tries to sense him.
Coming off the couch. I mean, a sockless foot that, from this perspective, isn't hidden by the couch or that shelf.
He might have... Ugh, fallen asleep in his body maybe... He moves to another window.
And ridiculously loud music can be heard. In fact, I'm surprised no one has come to complain yet. Okay, from this one you might see a bit of hair sticking out over the back of the couch.
"What is he doing? And the music at this volume!
He's... teaching your body so this is easier. And the music helps drown out... any other noise.
Are all the "Crowley"s he's saying? He moves to another window.
Honestly, you have the bookshop too cluttered to see better what's happening. Buuut... From this window, you can see the mirror, which from this angle reflects the pile of clothes looking a bit tattered.
He raises his eyebrows. TO THE SKY.
Shall we send Uriel to fetch them back?
It's just... Ugh! No!
The underwear is on top of the pile. The bowtie is nowhere to be seen.
"Those are MY... but..." he blushes. "You didn't have to undress me!"
Like he's going to hear your protests...
Maybe he was hot and took it off to sleep...
Think what you want, dear.
Still, he's going to... snap his fingers to move the couch a bit to see if he can get a better view.
You're going to regret it.
Well, nothing, the couch starts to slowly rotate as you requested. More and more of his leg becomes visible after the foot... following his movements.
Nightmares when sleeping?
Yes, of course, that's what they are, exactly.
Well... He wouldn't know!
The couch keeps turning...
And the other one stands on tiptoes.
Soon you'll be able to see that he's... semi-naked. I mean... we insist. He's wearing a bowtie.
That's not semi-naked. Heavens... his mouth opens WIDE.
Nor is being completely naked.
Don't mess with us.
Ah, look, now you can clearly see where Aziraphale's hands are.
INFINITE shock. But... But how?! But... BUT!
Crowley doesn't move.
Crowley doesn't blink.
Crowley doesn't breathe.
Believe us, Aziraphale... Yes.
Is it working at least?
Of course it is. More than once.
After looking at himself like that... For what feels like an eternity and DYING OF EMBARRASSMENT. He takes a step back, hands over his face, DEAD from shame.
You went to spy and turned the couch.
He must have been ASLEEP! ONE DOESN'T DO THESE THINGS!
That comes later. Uh... apparently demons do.
No! He turns to the car, infinitely... disturbed, and snaps his fingers, sealing ALL the cracks.
He's going to die suffocated.
Could be, but look what he's doing! At least the curtains are closed. He goes to the car with his hands on his face still.
Well, what he's... doing is what he would do with you if... uh... well, you weren't to get irreparably scared as you are right now.
Actually, Aziraphale wonders if maybe someone else wants to join too. Another demon? The butcher? The baker? The barber? He could start opening the door for them too if they want.
Anyway, he wants to defend himself by saying that it's not that he doesn't respect you, but... after six thousand years, it was now or never. And he would have actually loved it if you had given him permission and feels a bit guilty for not having it, but... He had to do something! And you weren't even... you're not even there, you didn't have to know.
Okay, from a practical point of view, it's a violation in every sense because you haven't said yes and it's as if you were simply... unconscious in some way. As if you had drunk a lot and he was taking advantage.
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 a liiittle less God-fearing than you are... you wouldn't have said no. You wanted to marry him less than a week ago!
And... okay, it's only yes if you've said yes and you haven't said yes and this is your body that can... change anyway but... okay. Great. He still feels guilty though, because he doesn'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 things and annoy celestial beings and all that! It's his job!
And yet he feels guilty because... you went to do him a favour and he's bothering you.
Although truth be told, if you really didn't want him to do it, go and stop him, you wouldn't have sealed everything. That has to count for something!
Crowley sits in the car, hands over his face, red as a tomato, and with his mind almost completely blank. It takes him a GOOD while to move. Or to think of something.
The obvious questions appeared in his head at an absurd speed. And he tried to answer each one with the eagerness of a game show contestant:
For a hundred pounds, why was Crowley doing that? In general. Ignoring the concept of doing it with his own body.
He probably liked it. It was something he hadn't... hadn't... 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 that Adam and Eve emanated during the process... and then the result. If there was one thing he was sure of, 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 usually did.
The point was that Crowley didn't have to show his love like that and less with reproductive purposes...
For five hundred pounds, 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 only a physical thing. Like sleeping... but eating itself had much more fun if done in someone's company. He squirms a bit in his seat with that, imagining it.
Crowley, in his own body, lying on the couch, doing THAT. And him, sitting beside watching him and making comments. Like when he ate. He squeezes his eyes because that just doesn't work like that.
For a thousand pounds... how would it work?
He swallows hard. He could imagine himself next to Crowley... in his bed. Reading. Uh huh. While Crowley did that and distracted him. No, no, no. No. He could imagine himself closer to him. Hugging him? Or maybe like they were at the cinema. Crowley on top of him. Looking intensely at him. And loving him... he felt it more and more. Kissing him.
Ugh No. No, no, no. This... NO. He scolds himself enough for frequently wanting him to kiss him... it's absurd. He doesn't need him to kiss him, not at all, if he already knows he loves him... and Crowley seems to be clear about it too. Everything else... were human things.
Yet, Crowley didn't... He wasn't doing that with him. He was doing it alone. In fact, at a time 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 little... confused. Because Crowley always when he wanted something, he proposed it and THIS in particular he had never proposed it. AND OBVIOUSLY HE WOULD HAVE SAID NO! If 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. Anyway, it was something he didn't intend to tempt him with.
He sighs. He didn't know how to feel about it.
Aaah... You need to talk to him.
It's very possible. In fact, yes, but it's... a weird topic.
Yes, it is... He didn't even know what to say to him.
Well... You shouldn't have seen this anyway.
Still, it will serve. For now, he starts the car with a snap. At least now he has the topic on his mind. And... you'll see next time you see him. But we'll get to that, for now he's going to Crowley's house to... be utterly bored. Is there not a single book? Really?
Nope. Maybe the instruction manuals for the appliances. Intact in their plastic bags but look at how BIG the TV is. And besides... the minimalism. There's nothing.
Yeah. It's terrible.
The plants. The safebox...
How can he not be masturbating, he's so idle. Also, the plants don't have flowers.
The table... the sofa, the TV and the bed.
And the revolving door... he doesn't get over it. Who has a revolving door in a house?! Nobody. The angel still can't believe there's no book in here. Seriously. He's going to turn the whole house upside down. Well, no. He's going to look for ten minutes... EVERYWHERE, unable to believe he'll finish in ten minutes.
Because you're not looking in the right places.
Right places! What could the right places be other than the obvious ones?
The cloud. Something you're not going to find. But you can also play... the nude and stuff.
I don't think I'm very capable. But... if... he goes to Crowley's room. Walking, of course, quite straight since he's here, having forgotten to swing his hips like a pendulum. He sits on the bed, thinking if... Crowley does... what he saw here.
Well... yes, of course. But don't think this is a regular thing!
He thinks this is something he must do daily.
Jumping to... conclusions that fast.
He lies back on the bed, sighing again and looking up at the ceiling. Damn it with Crowley and his strange activities. He moistens his lips and with his eyes closed whispers softly... "Angel" to the air and opens his eyes super wide with a little jump when he hears it.
"Okay, okay... it was you. You've been talking like him all afternoon!" he protests to the air, covering himself with his hands. "He's a DEMON and you are an ANGEL! I shouldn't be thinking about any of these things!"
No, no, of course not.
"Well, of course not! Actually, it's all Crowley's fault, he was doing THAT so WEIRD!"
"Well... You don't have to if you don't want to."
Still, think... at least I could see HIM naked. That's something I hadn't done last time. Just... out of general curiosity. Come on, it's not like I haven't seen him ALMOST naked when he got into the bathtub, but he definitely maintained some decorum... plus, he was a bit nervous with so many people around and... okay, sooner rather than later, he's gotten up.
"Very well. The plants tremble every time you move."
He still doesn't notice it, honestly.
Generally, they do it as discreetly as possible, it's evident in the atmosphere the EFFORT they make to make it seem like they're not there, like when a teacher asks a question and all the students avoid eye contact.
My poor things. Let him notice it and he'll spend half the night comforting them.
Damn it! He told you NOT to do exactly that!
Okay, okay... maybe he won't. But if he sees them trembling, he's going to be extremely worried. For now... he takes off all his clothes.
He's wearing MUCH less than you.
Socks, trousers, underpants, shirt. Conclusion, he ends up taking off his clothes considerably sooner than expected.
Oh... and the watch... the watch. He loves the watch.
I don't know if he's wearing underpants, but he's wearing a belt.
What?!
I think these trousers look better without them.
Good heavens. So, does he wear underwear or not because trousers look better without them?
Well, of course.
Okay... belt. UFF!
A wonderful belt with the head of a snake as a buckle.
When he lowers his trousers, he does a... Thundering thunderbolts! noticing that he's not wearing underwear.
Thundering thunderbolts?
Well... Don't you like our expression of Captain Haddock today? You can change it for flashes.
"Crowley!" he protests to the air, covering himself with his hands. And it's just that... he usually doesn't do these things. He squats down... and looks at himself a bit from above. Heavens. Clearly he liked his eyes more than his private parts.
Ah, well... they're not exactly for... looking at.
Yeah. Yeah... yeah. He squeezes his eyes shut thinking just that.
Don't think you look that good naked either, being so... long and skinny.
Indeed, he's going to look for a mirror, he must have a huge one around here somewhere.
Surely there are a few.
He looks at himself... and turns around... and smiles a bit. Because he looks EXACTLY... like Crowley naked. No more, no less.
How would he look if not exactly like that? Like a long snake. He raises his eyebrows in front of the mirror, and a fake smile and... heavens. Ugh. He'd rather he were here.
Roll your eyes at yourself and it'll be as if he were.
"What am I going to do here ALL NIGHT?
Sleep or watch TV...
Watch TV it is, if he can manage to turn it on.
I don't think you will. Are you going to watch TV... naked?
He decides that... well, maybe Crowley has pyjamas. Historically, pyjamas are kept under the pillow, that's what he remembers from novels.
Suddenly... Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
Crowley raises his eyebrows and spins around.
"What? What did I do?"
Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
He spins around trying to find out where it's coming from.
From several places, in fact. The TV, the phone, the computer, the answering machine, the stereo, the console, the tablet... and for some mysterious reason, the oven, the fridge and something undefined in a closet.
"Whoa! What's happening! Shut uuuup!"
One day, when you reach the 21st century, you'll know.
He's in the bloody 21st century! He tries to approach the source of one of the horrible sounds.
Alright...
But damn it, if that's all that's playing. Okay. Okay. One who doesn't want to break the rules but... SNAP.
Everything stops.
He'll... have to call Aziraphale to ask him what that was about. Uh... not that he was looking for an excuse. Although... no. No. No. No... no. After what he saw a while ago, he's NOT going to talk to him just like that. He squeezes his eyes and... okay, okay, without pyjamas in case everything sounds again.
But this house... it's the limit. Or that you can't come here to do anything without everything beeping, ringing, and kicking you out. Not even being Crowley!
Because you don't know how to use it.
Well, if nobody explains it to him, he definitely doesn't know how to use it! Besides, it's boring as few things are. He's going to read the damn manuals. Maybe he'll learn SOMETHING.
In five minutes, everything will start beeping again.
Is he going to spend the whole night like this?
Well... no, I hope not.
So, they expect good old AziraCrowley to solve the mystery. Who in this world makes everything, EVERYTHING, beep all the time? Now he understands why he doesn't read. It's impossible to read here. Not even the manuals. And he never thought he would stoop so low.
You can read the shampoo.
Shampoo? Really?
Or you could go outside and... buy A BOOK.
At your trusted bookshop that... WAS CLOSED BECAUSE THE OWNER WAS UP TO NO GOOD!
Ah... yes, that. But he'd open for you.
After a while, he decides that... okay. Okay. He'll pour himself a drink.
The house keeps beeping like it's come straight from hell.
And trying to solve the mystery of... the beeps. Okay. Another snap.
They stop.
He goes to find the stupid tablet he saw lying around, which seems to be simpler to turn on than the damn TV.
It should be there, when he opens it there's a picture of the two of them on a bench in St. James's as the background. He says ironically.
Crowley raises his eyebrows with that picture unexpectedly and actually stares at it for a few seconds, a bit dazzled. Noticing... Ugh, how HE looks at Crowley with that idiotic face. He smiles to himself and shakes his head. The mess in Crowley's chair. Where did he get that picture?
Apparently Michael has an Instagram... and well, Crowley doesn't follow it, but he follows Michael Sheen on Twitter because he finds him cute and he retweets all that kind of stuff.
Well... the picture and a bunch of colourful emojis. He moistens his lips. He has no idea what to tap on. The... one that looks like a phone? The one with the red ball? He'd like to see the photos... He reads around, trying to find one that says photos.
He taps on everything, like grandmothers do. Surely he deletes apps, those impossible-to-delete ones that nobody understands how they managed to do it, and moves everything around.
He takes three selfies. He sends two to three different Facebook groups.
He formats part of the disk.
He downloads a couple of dozen trojans and viruses, one of which didn't even exist for this version of the operating system.
He subscribes to a Korean crochet newsletter and "Daily curious cat facts".
He orders a surfboard and skis on Amazon.
He adopts a Cambodian child.
He sends quite a bit of money to the Nigerian prince.
He says no to donating a kidney, but if possible, he may hire a prostitute for the night.
And inexplicably, he manages to make the background picture now appear rotated ninety degrees to the right, no matter how you have the tablet positioned.
Then everything starts beeping again. Including the tablet with a message that says "Alarm" and the time.
He raises his eyebrows. He taps on the screen again, ordering a taxi in the meantime... And finally opens the alarm and turns it off. Surely he'll set it to snooze again.
You should stop that.
He still manages to... turn them all off. Thank goodness these devices are so user-friendly. Crowley is so content and happy and proud. Look at how I managed everything.
What exactly did you manage?
Well, some alarms I see around.
Of course, of course.
Or maybe he cancelled other things. The appointments in the calendar. Watch out, Crowley... you'll regret this day for years to come.
