GOOD OMENS 3
FireFenix
Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11 - PERSPECTIVE
- If it's all the same to you, Crowley - Aziraphale spat at the closed door of one of the suite's bedrooms - I would like to arrive before the world ends! -
-Oh, shut up! - a voice hissed from the other side of it - I'll be out in a bloody minute! -
- That's what you said twenty minutes ago - the angel mumbled - And ten minutes before that -
- Aren't angels supposed to be calm and patient beings, Angel?! - Crowley shot back from inside the bedroom.
- Quite! - said Aziraphale, sternly - But you seem to have an innate talent to make my patience run out! - he scolded the door.
- Oh, sit down, beatitude! - the angel didn't have x-ray vision; but he could perfectly see Crowley's hand waving nonchalantly in the air – And let me do my tie in peace, thank you! -
- Honestly - Aziraphale huffed, plopping himself onto the couch, smoke practically coming out of his ears.
To stop himself from throwing the door down and dragging Crowley out by an ear, he turned his attention to Muriel and Eleyn, who were animatedly chatting in the kitchenette, fully taking in their chosen outfits for the night. The scrivener had picked out a light gray suit with an unisex cut and paired it with a white silk blouse which wrapped nicely around her waist. She had a black pocket square on her left breast pocket, which perfectly matched her dark, elegant loafers; and had further adorned herself with a golden necklace and a watch, though she wasn't completely sure how its little hands worked. The daughter of God, on the other hand, had opted for a beautiful, light maroon, off-shoulder dress which fit her to an absolute T. It's fabric flowed gracefully, hugging her middle before falling to her feet in a long, sleek skirt. A beautifully tailored slit which made its way halfway up it added a touch of contemporary style to the dress, making it the perfect fit for the formal event, all the while being a daring design choice which ocassionaly showed a glimpse of her leg as she walked. To top it all off, she wore a pair of very painful-looking golden high heels which gave her a few more inches on the vertical. Neither of them had done anything particularly special with their hair; with Muriel wearing it as she usually did and Elyn having just put it up in a tight bun which sat nicely on top of her head, allowing her to fully show off her shoulders and collarbone. Aziraphale himself wore a beige three-piece suit crafted from a rich wool blend, its every fiber shouting sophistication. The jacket boasted a timeless, single breasted cut with peak lapels, while the trousers featured a simple, classic, straight leg. The vest gave the whole attire a polished look, especially with the angel's usal, straight, regal posture. The shirt he wore underneath was bright white and, of course, its neck was decorated with a blue tartan bowtie which matched the pocket square perfectly in stlye and color. And, just because he could, he'd added an elegant lapel chain to the ensamble, to give it that air of historical je n'sais quoi.
It had been almost five minutes since Crowley had promised he'd been done in a minute; and the ticking of the clock had begun to get on the angel's nerves. He was about to growl at the door again when the knob clicked and turned as it opened at last. Then, the demon walked out of it, and all of Aziraphale's thoughts froze on the spot. Crowley wore a sleek, black three-piece suit which fit him like a second skin, hilighting his snakey, gorgeous shape. The entire outfit was a deep, coal-black except for the masterfully tailored vest, which perfectly framed his already tantalizing hips. Crafted from a deep burgundy fabric, which was somehow the exact shade of the demon's hair, it boasted an aristocratic charm with intricate embroidery reminiscent of the victorian era. A silver belt buckle in the shape of a snake peeked from underneath it, giving the outfit that characheristic Crowley touch. The jacket was pretty much the same stile as Aziraphale's, but the trousers were slim-cut instead of straight leg, reminding him of the demon's usual impossibly skinny jeans. A simple, black tie completed the look; but that wasn't all. The demon had put his his long crimson locks in an elgant high ponytail, with a few calculated strands loose on the front, perfectly framing his face and emphasizing his amber eyes. The other thing this hairstyle entailed, however, was the fact that it left Crowley's long, sleek neck completely visible. It was quite lucky that Aziraphale didn't have any pearls nearby, because he would have clutched them so hard they'd have probably broken. As soon as he realized he was involuntarily staring him up and down, the angel turned his head, right in time for nobody to notice his cheeks turning peach-pink. What he hadn't realized, however, was the fact that Crowley had reacted in the exact same way; because he'd been looking the angel up and down at the exact same time, with pretty much the exact same thoughts going through his head. Thankfully, the tense silence which had settled between them was broken by Eleyn when she noticed the demon had finally come out of the room.
- Whoa, look at you, handsome devil! - she playfully said, grinning broadly at him – You sure you didn't use any miracles on that? - she signaled towards the suit.
- If I had, you'd never know – he replied, going from flustered to nonchalant with envious ease, his signature smirk adorning his face – 'sides, you're one to fucking talk! You look stunning, princess! -
- I concurr – Aziraphale added, smiling sweetly up at her as he stood and brushed off his jacket.
- Don't call me princess – Eleyn pleaded with an exasperated sigh – I hate being called that -
- Meaning it's the only thing I'll call you from now on – he muttered, winking at her, then turned to Muriel – Lookin' sharp, cherub! -
- Thanks! - she beamed – I wasn't sure if the gray would fit me at first, but the nice lady at the shop said it complimented my eyes, I think -
- You certainly chose the right color, my dear – Aziraphale straightened his vest with one firm tug, then clapped his hands together – Now then, let's get going, or we'll be late. Shall we? - he gestured towards the suite's main entrance.
Muriel promtly slid up to the door and unlocked it, being the first to walk out into the hallway. Eleyn was about to follow suit, but stopped on her tracks when she realized the angel and demon had stayed frozen in place, staring at each other for a good five seconds before Crowley realized and slithered out the door behind the scrivener. Aziraphale follwed him with his gaze until he was startled out of his trance by the Daughter of God, who had creeped up beside him and was now talking in excited whispers.
- Oh. My. God – she said – You literally can't take your eyes of each other. That's adorable -
- We are not...! That was not...! - he aimlessly tried to justify himself, getting more flustered by the minute – Oh, just shut up – he finally settled on.
- This is going to be a long night for you, my friend – Eleyn nudged him softly on the shoulder – What with the think dark duke sauntering around -
- Oh, for...! - Aziraphale's eyes went wide open in shock at the nickname, cheeks now a deep crimson – Did you have to? -
- Oh, absolutely – she smirked knowingly at him and walked out of the room, having way too much fun, leaving him to pray his skin would dial back down to its normal shade in the time it took to close the door behind him.
Saraqael had been the caretaker of the Globe ever since Earth's creation more than six thousand years before; and they knew it inch to inch. It was a fantastic tool, used to oversee the development of the world and its people; and to make sure everything proceeded according to the Great Plan. They had been watching as Adam and Eve were placed in Eden; as the people grew, as they prospered and built and helped each other; as they plundered and ravaged, destroyed and killed. They had observed as kingdoms grew, raised to glory and fell. All thanks to the Globe which majestically floated in the centre of Heaven's main chamber, where meetings were held and orders were delivered. Now, Saraqael had used it to closely follow the dark, ostentatious Bentley which was being projected in real time for both them and The Metatron to see.
Michael and Uriel were also there. Or, at least, their practically-transparent, ghostly forms were, after The Metatron had contacted them. The two Archangels were really on the planet below, awaiting instructions, hidden at a place where they could inconspicuously attend the impromptu meeting. Michael bore a pretentious grin which mirrored the Metatron's; while Uriel's façade remained as stoic as it had always been. The four of them had their eyes etched on the vehicle as it stopped at the foot of an elegant, historic-looking building; at which point the Voice of God finally spoke.
- There - he stated - The National Gallery. The book must be hidden within it -
- You are certain, your beatitude? - Uriel asked, not trusting anybody an inch, as per usual - It may be some sort of deceit; or a trap -
- What good would that do them? - he argued - No, there is only one reason for the demon's transport to be there, Uriel, I am sure of it -
- Very well - they decided not to stress the point further.
- What should we do, your grace? - Michael inquired, leaning their head down, a practically unintelligible groan escaping Uriel's lips.
- For now, wait - Metatron replied - Warrior angels will be sent to you. Then, you shall approach cautiously and retrieve that book before they can read its contents; and bring me the Girl safe and sound before those bastards do her any harm-
- As you say, your holiness - they bowed even lower, and the other Archangel had to fight an eye roll.
- And what of the traitors and the demon? - Uriel inquired, raising an eyebrow.
- Smiting, discorporating, feather plucking, wing-ripping... - he listed, unbothered by the brutality of the punishments he was describing - whichever you prefer. Just make sure they stay out of my way -
- Of course - they simply replied, their back straight as a board as they gave him a solemn nod.
- Should they move, I'll be sure to warn you. Good luck - Saraqael's voice said from somewhere behind Metatron.
Michael nodded, and the communication channel closed, making their and Uriel's ghouls disappear. Satisfied with his orders, the Voice of God turned on his heel, hiding a devilish smile, and addressed the Archangel who sat on the floating wheelchair, fussing and fumbling with the levitating sphere.
- Saraqael -
- Your grace? - they managed, startled, quickly flicking a lever on their chair to turn it around.
- I have a task for you. I trust you will be able to see it through - he declared, stern.
- Certainly - they replied, entwining their fingers at chest level, elbows rested on the armrests.
- Bring me Mashheet - he ordered, Saraqael somehow maintaining a straight face.
- Mashheet? - they reiterated, trying their very best not to show their true reaction – The one they call The Angel of the Lord? -
- Unless you know another Mashheet - Metatron snapped - I must speak to him -
- I believe he is currently in slumber, your grace - Saraqael realized, struggling to keep the shock of the request out of their face and voice.
- Well, wake him! - Metatron's tone turned to mockery - And do it quick, I haven't got until the world ends - he waved a hand, dismissing them.
Saraqael almost opened their mouth once again to request an explanation but, suspecting The Metatron wouldn't be akin to answering more questions, they ultimately decided to nod silently and drive their chair away from him, in the direction of the corner of Heaven where the slumbering angels laid. When they were sure Metatron could no longer see them, they allowed their face to melt into a confused frown. Mashheet, commonly referred to as the Destroying Angel or Angel of the Lord by the mortals, was one of those angels who, while pledging eternal allegiance to the Almighty and the Great Plan, wasn't exactly considered what one would call an angel. Not by the enemies of the Hebrews, at least. They had spent most of the time slumbering, and had been woken only on very punctual occasions. Saraqael vividly recalled a time, around 600 BC, in which the Angel of the Lord had descended upon the planet and slayed 180.000 Assyrian soldiers without so much as breaking a sweat. Not to mention, of course, the famous slaying of the inhabitants of Jerusalem. No, Mashheet wasn't the sort of angel you would wake for a bureaucratic issue, which was what that whole situation was supposed to be. The Metatron had said it himself, it was nothing of great condescendence, just a couple of fugitives with a hostage. So Saraqael had been quite taken aback by the bold order; especially when Uriel and Michael already seemed to have it under control. As their levitating chair whizzed through Heaven, the Archangel fell into a deep state of pensiveness and, for the first time since that whole circus had started, they felt a small sprout of doubt within them. Perhaps The Metatron wasn't sharing everything that he ought to with the Heavenly Host.
It was the second time in days that the Bentley had gone ten straight minutes without an insult thrown around in it. Instead, it was invaded by a tension which hung heavily in the air; so much so that the occupants of the car were afraid to even breathe, lest they break the fragile ropes which held the silent moment. The only sort of movement which ocurred during the enite drive to the National Gallery, building at the foot of which Crowley had just killed the engine, was the occasional shift of Aziraphale's eyes from the street to the demon beside him, which never lasted long enough for the demon to notice. His serpentine fingers tapped the wheel in a nervous rythm as he eyed the male security guard who stood in front of the open entrance, stopping every guest for their invite and identification.
- So - Eleyn said, attempting to break the tense silence - What's the plan? How do we get inside? -
-Yeah - Muriel added - We don't have an invite... -
- Don't need one - Crowley sniffed, his voice laced with the usual nonchalant cadence - It's been a while, but it should be an easy enough temptation. A couple hundred pounds ought to do the trick -
- Absolutely not! - snapped Aziraphale, eyes wide like saucers - You'd be putting the poor security guard in a morally compromised position! -
- Oh, you can shove your morals up your arse! - he hissed.
- Pardon?! - Aziraphale spat back, scandalized.
- Do you always have to be such a bloody killjoy?! - the demon growled, his temper rising - We need to get in, and I'm not hurting anybody! 'sides, you're the one who came crying to me for help. I'm helping. What the fuck more do you want?! -
- I had to go and open my mouth...- Eleyn sighed from the back of the car - Guys, please... - she attempted, being cut off immediately.
- It's not fair for them, Crowley! - the angel shot back, making the demon take a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel - There must be another way to...! -
- Fair?! - he interrupted with a hiss, his blood beginning to smoke - You want to talk to me about fucking fairness, Aziraphale?! Where the hell was that sense of fairness when you left me at Soho in pieces?! Hmm?! -
- This again?! - Aziraphale groaned, losing the little composure he had left - I went because I had to, Crowley, and there was nothing else for it! -
- Thank you, that is one hell of an explanation! - Crowley mocked.
- You stubborn demon! - the angel shot back - I will explain everything to you in time! Be patient! -
- I have waited three fucking years for you! With nothing but goddamn hope that you'd ever even come back! - Crowley barked, furious, his voice shaking like gelatine. The dark glasses covered his eyes, but Eleyn could still see the accumulating tears through them - Do you know what that was like?! - his voice almost broke - No, you don't fucking get to tell me to be patient, Angel! You don't have the bloody right! -
- I already said I was sorry! I never meant to hurt you! How many times must I repeat myself?! - Aziraphale cried, frustration accompanying his every word - Should I do the dance, is that what you want?! -
- Perhaps you should calm do... - Muriel shyly tried, to no avail.
- I don't want your bloody apologies! - The words choked-up in his throat, tears no doubt at the verge of falling beneath the dark lenses - I want you to look me in the eyes, like you did the day you left...! - he took a shaky breath - And I want you to tell me why you betrayed everything you were, why you left everything behind, for a...a club of self-righteous, stuck-up, beaurocratic dipshits; without even bothering to look back! - his voice broke into a million pieces.
- Do you think it was easy for me?! - Aziraphale challenged, his voice just as choked as sneaky tears began making their way down his face - Getting into that lift is one of the hardest things I have ever done! It hurt me just as much as it hurt you! -
- Fuck off! - Crowley hissed, a venomous edge to his words - Don't pretend like you weren't over the bloody moon to go back to your precious God! - he mocked, accumulated years of anger and frustration finally leashing out - Tell me, Angel, where the fuck is She now?! When has She ever given a damn?! Not when the children drowned, I'll tell you that! -
- That is beside the point, Crowley! - the angel fought back - I never had any desire to go back! I never wanted to leave! -
- Bullshit! - the demon snapped, his rage exploding like a hand grenade.
- It's true! It's always been true! - he insisted, desperate - You just won't understand! -
- You're damn right I won't! - Crowley shot back - Because if you'd really wanted to stay, you would've fought for it! For us! -
- Right, because according to you, everything is so easy, isn't it?! - Aziraphale snapped, heated in fury - Things aren't that simple, Crowley! I couldn't just up and leave with no consequences, I... ! -
- You had no bloody problem with up and fucking leaving me! -the demon spat, hitting his chest with a closed first to make his point.
- I had no choice! - the angel retorted - Why can't you get that into your little demonic head?! -
- Bollocks! You still let yourself be puppeteered by them! - Crowley hissed, seething in anger - Six thousand bloody years, and you still haven't grown a fucking semblance to a spine! - the accusation cut deep, and the demon regretted having said it immediately.
- Are you saying I'm unable to make my own decisions?! - the angel cried, offended.
- I'm saying you don't have the goddamn guts to! - Crowley shot back.
- Both of you, calm down! - Eleyn attempted from the back of the car, once again to no avail.
- The guts?! - Aziraphale fought back, his tone incredulous and his voice at breaking point - It's not about guts! It's about protecting you! -
- I don't fucking need protection! - the demon hissed, venom dripping from his every word - Certainly not from those cocksuckers! - he aggressively gestured upwards.
- You don't know that! - the angel bellowed, furious.
- Don't know?! - he seethed, yanking hiss sunglasses from his face, exposing his thin, serpentine pupils- They threw me to Hell, Angel! They turned me into this monster! - he took a shallow breath, tears rolling down his cheeks - They took my stars from me! Cursed me to know that they'll always be there, but I'll never be able to see them! What the fuck else could they do?! -
- Worse! - Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut as tears travelled down his own face - So much worse! -
- What, like breaking my heart and spitting on its fucking pieces?! - Crowley spat before he could stop himself.
- I DIDN'T WANT TO HURT YOU! - Aziraphale burst, closing his eyes even tighter.
- YOU FUCKING DID! - Crowley matched his volume, not really thinking about the words that came out of his mouth - I NEEDED YOU, NOT BLOODY FORGIVENESS! -
- I WAS TALKING TO MYSELF! - Aziraphale hollered, too furious to dwell on the fact he'd almost let the cat out of the bag.
- WHILE YOU'RE AT IT, TELL YOURSELF TO GO TO HE...! -
- SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! - Eleyn bellowed, startling Crowley to silence mid-insult - FOR GO...FOR CHRI...OH, FOR MY SAKE, JUST STOP ARGUING! - she took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself and failing miserably - You are driving me insane! And poor Muriel, and the Bentley! I've had enough! - she glanced at the scrivener, who immediately took over.
- This is all wrong! - she scolded - All of it! The Crowley and Aziraphale I met three years ago would never speak to each other like that! Are you even listening to yourselves?! - Muriel took a quick breath - You don't mean any of those awful things, and you know it! -
- Exactly! - Eleyn chided, once again taking the lead - That's the problem; you're not talking to each other! You're just speaking, and not listening to what the other has to say! So seeing as you two idiots refuse to, I'll have to set the record straight myself! He loves you...!- she pointed from Crowley to Aziraphale and then the other way around - And you love him back! All you have to do is verbalize that to one another! It's really not that complicated! - she finished, waving her arms around in frustration.
- You are both wrong! - Aziraphale shot back at her - He hates me! -
- Hate you?! - Crowley's eyes shot open at that, incredulity bathing his words - What the fuck is wrong with you?! -
- Why do I even bother! - Eleyn swung her arms up in exasperation, defeatingly flopping back into her seat, addressing Muriel at a whisper - I give up, they're hopeless -
- Don't lie to me, Crowley! I'm an angel, you know I can feel it seething out of you, every time you even look at me! - Aziraphale argued.
- Feel again! - the demon hissed - You want to know why I'm so fucking angry when I look at you, Angel?! Because I see you, that's why! I see the most beautiful, perfect being I've ever met and have to remind myself, every damn time, that I'm a filthy serpent and will never be good enough! And that fucking hurts, and it makes me bloody furious and I... - he took a shaky breath, his voice minutes away from fractioning into pieces - and I... I'm sorry -
Eleyn's jaw fell open in shock as the demon breathed the last words, barely above a whisper, completely taken by surprise; and so did Muriel's half a second after. Aziraphale just stared at the demon in stunned silence, still as stone, the words paralyzed inside of him before they could even take shape. Crowley let out all the air in his lungs, producing a sigh that felt like 6000 years of weight leaving his shoulders, and pushed the Bentley's door open, slithering out of it in one swift move. Crowley charged towards the Gallery without looking back or saying another word; and before anyone could possibly even think to object.
It might have been years since Crowley had tempted anyone, exceptuating the half-an-hour self-speeches he'd often broken into over the past three years to convince himself of indulging in yet another bottle of licor, but he hadn't been chosen to be the original tempter for nothing. Within five minutes of engaging the young security guard in conversation, he'd ensured a free evening pass for himself and the other three; and hastily wondered into the Gallery before Aziraphale could get out of the car and accidentaly catch his eye.
Upon entering the building, which exuded just as much grandeur on the inside as it did on the outside, Crowley was met with an elegantly decorated reception hall flooded by wemen in elegant dresses of all shapes and sorts, save a few who had opted for the more confortable option of a fancy blouse and suit trousers; and men dressed in a more-or-less homogenic array of suits, most of them three-piece but with the occasional smoking and two-piece. Most of them headed in the same general direction, towards the restaurant which had no doubt been temporarily repurposed for the evening's main event, but some of them meandered through the hallways and explored the galleries, taking advantage of the lack of tourists. His heart still hammering violently against his chest in something between anger and panic at what he'd just done, the demon decided on the second option. Not that he had anything against a room full of people, he was by all means a very social demon, but something told him that a walk between works of art would perhaps help him calm down.
That having been decided, he wondered away from the large group near the door and towards a marble-white staircase which had caught his eye. He walked up the steps slowly, seemingly looking at the paintings on the wall, but really not paying attention to them at all. His mind still raced, going over every single word he'd yelled at Aziraphale, kicking himself all the while. Muriel hadn't been wrong in saying he hadn't meant any of it; but the heat of the moment had taken over his senses completely, and he had lost all control over his mouth. The steps suddently stopped, and when Crowley looked up he found himself in a landing, with white concrete archways decorating the dark teal walls on either side of and behind him. Above him, a glass skylight adorned the ceiling, and he thought about how the rays of sunshine coming through in the early afternoon would have made all kinds of graceful shapes and shadows in the ample space. Whipping his head back to the front, he started towards the next row of stairs where, he observed, the original wooden railing had been left without protection, obviously in better condition than the ones below. When he turned another one hundred and eighty degrees following the staircase, he found that the rooms on the second floor were bright red, creating an amusing contrast with the still-teal hallway.
In a desperate attempt to will his thoughts away from the angel, Crowley continued his walk, eyeing the paintings on the wall and ocassionaly stopping to read their name and author, trying to find one that may distract his weary mind for half a second. Each of the chambers on the floor were circular, and arched upwards to end in an elegant dome with a smaller skylight. It was a simple, yet elegant design which strategically drew the visitor's eyes upwards, making them go through the paintings in a vertical rather than horizontal order. On the rear left wall in the biggest of these chambers hung a portrait of a woman which Crowely recognized almost immediately, and he beelined up to it, muttering under his breath when he was sure nobody could hear him.
- Well, well, Mary Queen of Scots – he said to the brushstrokes which had immortalized her, a mischievous grin playing on his lips – I remember you. Oh, what a piece of work you were. Although – he took a step closer, frowning – They made your eyes too small, didn't they? -
Just as Crowley leaned away from the portrait, and made to continue his exploration of the exposition, a high-pitched, childish voice rang through the room, calling his name. Or a close approximation of it, anyway.
- Mr. Cowwey! - the boy called, making a chill run down the demon's spine – Mommy, wook! 's Mr. Cowwey! He came, he came! -
Had anybody asked him, Crowley would've flatly denied that the smile which graced his lips at that moment had anything to do with the adorably excited way in which Archie called out to him, nor the fact that the child remembered his name from the morning's encounter. He would've also argued that he didn't at all promptly spin on his heel because he was delighted to encounter the boy again; but that it had been nothing else than a matter of good manners. He had been called, after all, and it would have been very rude on his part to ignore it. When he turned, he spotted Archie nestled in the arms of a young woman, wearing a tailored miniature tuxedo and a red bowtie which was clearly too big for him. The woman, whom Crowley had assumed was his mother, wore a long, beautifuly sparkly dark-green gown with cap shoulders and a v-neckline. It hugged her whole body very tightly, gracefully drawing her curves. She had complimented the flattering dress with golden earrings and a necklace of a similar desingn. She walked over to the demon, greeting him with a warm smile and a hand which he immediately took.
- The famous Mr. Cowwey– she said, letting go of his hand and adjusting the child's weight in her arms – We meet at last -
- Uh, it's Crowley, actually – he corrected, flashing her a grin – I'm sorry, famous? -
- I should think so – she giggled softly, tenderly poking the boy's chest – This little man has been talking about his new friend Mr. Cowwey nonstop since you visited this morning. – she addressed Archie when he sputtered out a tiny laugh – Haven't you, baby? -
- Has he now? - Crowley had meant to go for cool and aloof, but landed headfirst on fond instead.
- Oh, belive me, he hasn't shut up about it for one second – the woman chirped – I'm Clara, by the way. Clara MacLeod. You met my husband this morning, as well -
- Nice meeting you, Mrs. MacLeod – he gave her a polite nod before addressing Archie, with a tone which wasn't in any way tender or sweet – And what are you doing here, ey? Aren't you a little too young for these kinds of parties? -
- Yea bu' Nanny's sick- he explained, nervously pulling on his pinkie finger – So mommy and daddy said I cwud come! - he beamed.
- Ah, well, in that case... - the demon had begun saying, the conversation abruply interrupted when a soft touch on Clara's shoulder made her spin around to the older couple who had creeped up behind her.
- Mr. and Mrs. Carson! – she greeted them – Thank you so much for coming! Gosh, it has really been too long -
- It has, hasn't it? - the elderly woman said – While we're discussing the topic of long-lost friends, we have just met the McKinley's in the other room. Perhaps you'd like to say hello to them as well? -
- Goodness, I must! - Clara agreed, then turned back to Crowley, gently putting Archie down – Uh, would it be too much trouble if I asked you to look after him? It should only take five minutes... -
- No, 'course – he gestured agreement with his head, the kid clinging onto his leg before he could say another word, catching him completely off-guard – Oi! -
- Now, stay with Mr. Crowley, alright? Don't you go running off anywhere – Mrs. MacLeod managed to lecture him before being dragged off by her friends, both child and demon watching in silence as she disappeared amongst the crowd.
A second after, Crowley felt Archie shift and turned his head, only for his concealed eyes to land squarely on the small boy's light-blue gaze. They stared at eachother for a long moment, with the kid positively gaping at the demon and the latter arching an eyebrow in confusion.
- Why do you like me so much? - he wondered out loud – I'm really mean, you know. And scary -
- I dun' fink you're scwawy, Mr. Cowwey! - he replied, never breaking eye contact – 'sides, your gwasses is funny! -
- They are not! - Crowley feigned offense, dignifingly fixing his very unfunny sunglasses.
- Yea they are! - the child giggled, then raised both his arms up at the demon, pinching the air – Up? - he asked.
- Not even at gunpoint – he hissed, rolling his head away from the child. After a soft giggle, he felt a firm tug on his trousers, and looked back to find the second most adorable doe-eyes he'd ever come across in his 6000 years of existance – Stop doing that – Crowley growled.
He didn't stop; his big, bright eyes fixed on the demon, who felt his own irises widen in tenderness beneath the dark lenses which concealed them. A few seconds of silent guilt-trapping later, Crowley had no choice but to give in. Not many six-year-olds could say they'd managed to tempt the serpent of Eden; but Archie was simply too cute to deny him anything.
- Fine – he groaned – But it anyone sees us, I'm blaiming you – he added, making the child bark out a laugh as he scooped him up and sat him in his arms.
Finally on the same eyeline, Crowley and Archie stared at eachother in silence for another few seconds, until the child cocked his head to the side in curiosity and the demon lifted his chin a few inches, frowning.
- What? - he finally spat, unsure what it was the child found so interesting.
- You's sad... - Archie muttered, his head still loopsided – Why's you sad, Mr. Cowwey? -
- What?! - he repeated, trying to sound surprised, though the three-sixty change of tone was an immediate dead giveaway – I'm not...! What'd you mean, sad? That's ridicoulous, I don't even know what you're talking about – he rambled – And how would you know, anyway? -
- You'r fwace 's all dwoopy 'n you'r all sniffwly 'n stuff – he chirped, pointing a little finger at Crowley's face – You's sad! - he concluded his explanation.
- Ngk... - Crowley grumbled, embarrassed that he was so obvious even a six-year-old had noticed – Yeah, alright, maybe I'm a little sad – he sighed, then squeezed in another sentence when Archie's eyes flickered from curious to worried – But, 's nothing, really. Just had a fight with my...eh...with...someone -
- Buwwhy? - the child asked, cruelly reminding Crowley of his own endless curiosity, and the way he'd often shoot questions left, right and centre for hours back when he was an angel – Watchha do? -
- Oi, who said it was my fault? - he hissed, making the kid giggle. He apparently found his involuntary snakey sounds amusing, Crowley noted – Anyway, 's complicated. You wouldn't understand -
- Oh – Archie looked mindlessly around for the next few seconds, thinking of something to say, when he suddenly remembered something and perked up in Crowley's arms – Well, mommy awways says tha' if I'm sad I cwud fink of fings tha' make me hawwpy and I'd stop bein' sad! -
- Does she? - the kid nodded fervently, and Crowley seized the opportuinty to change the subject without a second thought – And would those happy things be for you, Archie? -
- Um...um... - he thought, struggling to order the words in his young brain – I fink 'bout mommy, an' daddy...um...and my fwends at schwool, oh and Mrs. Harmony 'n nanny, too! - the boy listed, quieting down when he'd finished, then excitedly bouncing back upstraight, finger pointed at the skylight above, as he remembered one other thing – Stars! -
How the demon had managed not to melt right then and there would always be a complete mystery to him. In was in situations like that one that Crowley thanked the universe for the invention of sunglasses; because had they not been perched up on his nose that very second, Archie would've seen his amber irises expanding in pure tenderness at a concerning speed, absorbing every last speck of white in his eyes and threatening to to spill out. He could only hope that the blush which he felt burning on his face was less than half as bad.
- You... - he began, his voice and softening features completely betraying his sudden fondness for the boy – You like the stars? -
- Uh-huh! - Archie nodded, then looked up at the stars which twinkled through the skylight – They's so pwetty and spwarkwy! Bling bling! -
- They...they are? - Crowley hated himself for the amount of vulnerability in his voice, and even more so for his glassy eyes, but he couldn't help it. Archie liked the stars, his stars, and it made him stupidly happy – You really...you really think they're pretty? -
- Yea! - he cheered, never looking away from the sky – Bu' they's so so fwar away! -
- They are, aren't they? - the demon said with a small, choked laugh, unable to contain his giddyness
- Bu' s okay, becwous when 'm big, imma be a spaceman! - he ecitedly extended his arms – And imma go in a wocket, up up, and imma touch 'em! -
- Thouch them? - Crowley reiterated, his eyebrows shooting upwards – I don't know about that, Archie. They are quite hot, you know? -
- How'd you know? - the kid asked, then immediately answered his own question with a big gasp, wide-open doe eyes falling right back down onto the demon – Have you thouched 'em, Mr. Cowwey?! -
- Well, eh... - he hesitated. He wasn't really supposed to go around saying "hey, I'm an immortal being, how's it hanging" to humans. Not that they would believe him if he did, but the point still stood. However, there was no one else there, just him and Archie, and Crowley was a very selfish demon who desperately wanted this kid's admiration, so what the hell – If I tell you, you have to promise me you'll keep it a secret – he whispered, a mischievous grin gracing his lips.
- Mmhmm, mmhmm – Archie nodded, eagerly scooching up to him.
- I made them – Crowley whispered into his ear, gloating in the way the child's mouth positively dropped.
- Weally?! - he shrieked, placing a finger on his lips when the demon did the same to shush him, then spoke again in a much softer tone – All of 'em? -
- Well, not every single one – he admitted – But I did do a lot of them. Ever heard of Alpha Centauri? -
- Bu' how? - Archie completly ignored the question – an', an' when? -
- Long time ago – he cooly answered the second question, then paused when thinking how to answer the first – And as for how, well...that's...complicated – he settled on, realizing it was the second time he'd said that during the conversation.
- Why 'd you awways say fwings are compwicated? - the kid jokingly pouted, realizing the exact same thing.
- Because unfortunately, Archie, many things are – he replied, eyebrows going up to emphasize the point.
- Hmm – the boy thought, then gazed back up at the stars for a moment before lowering his head to look at Crowley again – Mommy awways says tha' most fwings tha' look compwicated weally aren't, and tha' s all a mawwer of pur...pwer...puwepewtiv...oh, I can't say the word! - he lamented, then tried again – puwep...purpw...puwespwetwif... -
- Perspective - he said once he'd understood what the kid was trying to say, smiling tenderly at him.
- Yea, tha'! - Archie nodded - puwes...pwet...wif! -
- Pers...pect...ive – Crowely corrected again – You pronounce it Pers...-
That was the exact moment the penny dropped. The air caught in his throat, and his arms began to shake beneath Archie's small weight. Perspective. During his walk around the museum, and every other moment of solitude he had had in the past two days for that matter, Crowley had been replaying their arguments in his mind. He had been so busy regretting every other word which had come out of his mouth, however, to give much thought to what Aziraphale had been saying to him. Hearing but not listening, just as Eleyn had said.
- Here we are! Hello, baby! You haven't bothered Mr. Crowley too much, have you? - Clara MacLeod's voice suddenly rang through the air, startling the demon, who spun around like he'd just heard a gunshot.
- Uh, yeah, no – he sputtered, hastily putting the child back on the ground -He was great, I mean. Little ang...uh...yeah, that, very good... – he coughed nervously, his brain refusing to put two coherent thoughts in line, much to occupied in trying to piece Aziraphale's words together from memory.
- Is everything okay? - Mrs. MacLeod asked, concerned about his sudden strange behaviour – You look a little pale. Would you like something to drink? -
- Uh, no, fine... - he shot nervous glances all around him, and towards the guests which passed them on every direction, the hum of the distant chatter slolwy becoming an overwhelming ring in his ears – Um...actually, uh...perhaps some air, yes...I need to, um, get away from...from all this – the gestured to indicate the room – Just for a minute – he tried his very best to flash them an "everything's perfectly alright" kind of smile, but failed miserably.
- There would be a nice little balcony all the way down the hall and to your immediate right, if that is amenable to...- Clara kindly offered, rudely cut off by a very not okay Crowley.
- Balcony, yes! - he clapped his hands together – Yes that's just what I...um...yeah. That way? - he pointed, just to make sure, and the woman nodded, the concern only etchin itself further on her face – Brilliant, thanks! - he took a step in that direction, then took a step back and bent down to talk to the little boy – Cheers, Archie. Tell me when you've touched the stars, ey? - he quickly bid him goodbye, saluting him with two fingers as the child happily nodded.
Without another word, he charged through the exhibition hall as fast as he could, desperate to take in a good lungful of Edinburgh's night air. His heart was beating madly inside his chest, and his palms were beginning to sweat (Which, for one accostumed to hellfire, is saying a lot). His breathing became short and ragged as excrepts of the past days' conversations drifted through his mind. "Well, excuse me for not wanting to get you killed!" Aziraphale had said to him in the bookshop, the day he returned. "You're talking like I had a choice! " the angel had tried to argue during their first fight in the Bentley. "I was just trying to do the right thing!" he'd desperately attempted to explain early that morning, stood in the kitchenette of their suite. "I never wanted to leave! I never wanted to hurt you!", he'd insisted over and over again. "It was about protecting you!". That was what Aziraphale had said, amidst the last one of their heated arguments.
Crowley nearly collided with the rear wall of the corridor when it arrived at a dead end, his panic having been enough to cross the building in under a minute. He promptly turned to his right, and sighed in relief when he spotted the ajar wooden door leading to the outdoor balcony, open just enough for a guest to slither through, which the demon very quickly did.
He practically ran to the railing and clung on to it, doing his best to take in deep breaths, one at a time. "I was talking to myself!", Crowley finally registered that last, desperate cry from Aziraphale. What the hell had he meant by that? By all of it, in fact? What was he playing at? The pieces were all floating around in his head, but no matter how many times he tried he was unable to put them together. The angel had left, breaking them apart, but had betrayed Heaven without batting an eyelash, as though he'd never wanted to be there despite returing on his own foot. Not only that, but he'd asked Crowley to become an angel again, and he'd only then realized how little sense that made. Firstly, the demon-hating Metatron would never have proposed such a thing; and second, Aziraphale had known for a fact that Crowley would refuse. Had he been counting on it? He let out a low, frustrated groan, the many thoughts bubbling and colliding and not making any sense inside his brain driving him mad.
His distress was such that it was only when the sound of a ring scraping on the metallic railing made him jump out of his skin that he noticed there was somebody else on that balcony; and that they'd probably been there since before he'd barged in. When he raised his head, ready to apologize for his rather peculiar entrance, his amber gaze fell on cerulean blue eyes and silver-blonde fluffy hair; and his heart skipped a beat.
- Aziraphale – he breathed, all the air having been knocked out of him. They stared at eachother in silence for a moment, then Crowley's eyebrows went down in a frown – What the fuck did you do? -
HAPPY ANGSTDA...! UH, I MEAN, MONDAY! :)
You can't imagine HOW sorry I am for the enormous delay, but I had a sudden mix-match of things happening all at once, and a bit of block as if things weren't stressful enough. I won't keep you waiting as long for chapter 12, I promise, 'k?
Let's see...what was it I usually say? Gosh, it's been so long...Oh, yeah! Thanks a million for taking some time out of your day to read this, and even more if you dropped a review! (Feel free to by the way, you can blast me to your little hearts' content). But, really, if you do as much as read and enjoy it, it's more than enough for me!
But anyway, here it is! And what to say about this one except Archie has become my new favorite charachter to write? (save the Bentley, of course). Oh, yeah, and I wanted to put links or pics to show the inspiration for the outfits, but turns out you can't put either of those here in FF. You can check out Crowley's, I believe, if you type "Dream Suit" over on Pinterest. (the very first to pop up. Doesn't it just SCREAM Crowley? I am obseesed with the look!). For Azi, you can search "White three-piece suit", it's a cream-coloured one with a dark blue tie (except I've changed the tie bor a bowtie). As for the other two, googling the description as per the chapter should give you a general idea :)
So, that's all from me! I wish you all the best and good luck in whatever you need it! Have an ineffaby wonderful...eh...you know what, I'm not going to finish the sentence this time, so that next time I won't have to apologize :).
Bye!
P.S : Kudos if you've spotted the Good Omens musical reference (Yes, there's a musical, I haven't made it up, I swear. For those of you who know what I'm talking about, still got "All living things" living rent-free in my head)
