first blueprint

[takeitsleazy]

[he'd had plenty of advance notice about the moon: first from Merlin, then from Hades, and then, the previous evening, from that strange little bird. he didn't know what to expect, but whatever it was, he knew that whatever gave him his power - and his guess was his Eternal nature - was going to be weakened even more than it already had been.

he had to prepare.

so he'd spent part of his first paycheck on something very, very important. a hoodie. on a whim, he'd also grabbed a few other things: some snacks, a few books, and a box of paper clips.

he manages to make it home to his apartment before the sun starts to set, and feels pretty positive and confident about this whole thing. he lines the books up on the coffee table, and puts the snacks which require refridgeration in the kitchen. but as the sun sinks, so does his mood. suddenly, everything starts to look daunting. strange. larger, somehow. something inside him begins to wind up into knots, turning and churning, creating sea changes. what's happening? he doesn't know. but he's --

-- oh. frightened. great. he tries to pace it away, but that only makes the knots worse. soon his stomach hurts, and even glancing at the junk food is a bad idea. he retreats to the bathroom, where he shucks off his suit coat and dress shirt, pulling on the hoodie to stare at himself in the mirror. He tries to will even just his eyes to look the way they really do. Nothing. Not even a faint glimmer. Just ice blue and floating black, wide and human and scared.

Michael pulls the strings tight on the hood, making its tiny little round black ears stand up, and retreats back to the couch, falling over on it sideways. His 3M slides out of the pocket of his pants, and he stands it up against a few of the books to look into it]

[just. staring. congratulations. he's on a couch full of emotion.]

Comments

[blessedarethebookmakers]

He smiles, touched even further. What a cute earnest demon. Funny how that works out, but he almost wonders if they've got it wrong somehow. Or if there's actually a chance of peace between heaven and hell and humanity. He's not sure how a war is actually going to solve anything.

He could tell him he does love books, but that might lead to a misunderstanding-as he doesn't really want to receive the gift of one. It's complicated enough as it is. But he can give Michael a sort of gift instead.

"I'm not a cool dude in the least." A faint smile. "I am stuffy and supercilious and not invested enough in my job to do it entirely properly. When it comes down to it I am a terrible angel who is not terrible enough to be a demon." Which is difficult to say, but is also the truth and he knows it and Gabriel knows it-- though not to the extent he probably should thank...whomever for that.


"In that light, even though I'm not supposed to, I do apologize for being short with you on first meeting. It was a very long, very strange day and I do not deal well with change."

[takeitsleazy]

"Wow. That ... see, you just proved yourself wrong, Aziraphale. Because that was a very cool thing for you to do, apologizing like that. To me."

He sighs. "I still feel funky, though. Not ... quite as melon-baller-y? But still pretty flat. It's got to be that moon thing they mentioned." He gestured to the tangle of black feathers and limbs wrapped around Aziraphale's midsection. "Is it getting to him, too?"

[blessedarethebookmakers]

He smiles and ducks his head a little, but he doesn't believe it and can't take credit for it. Or rather, he shouldn't've done it to begin with, but a demon complimenting him certainly doesn't look good regardless of how otherwise pleasant said demon is. Still, he doesn't wish to argue the point; nor have Michael think there was anything false about that apology, so a simple acknowledgement will have to do.

At the mention, he glances down reflexively at Crowely, realizing he's all but holding his hand and moves his own away.

"I imagine so! I've never seen him so fast asleep. Even here. You two are of the same class, so perhaps it must be. I hope it passes soon..."

[takeitsleazy]

"It's the moon," Michael said, glancing over toward the window. "I shouldn't think it would stay this way for too long, at least not in this dimension. Depends on, you know, rotation of the heavenly spheres, all that stuff."

He waved a hand in a lazy, half-commited circle.

"This whole thing is, as Doug Fourcette would have once said, a total trip. ... You might like Doug, actually. Really nice guy. Maybe a little too nice, but ... he's got a good heart. He and his best friend got high back in the 70s, and while he was tripping, he came as close as any human ever came to figuring out how the afterlife works. Well, at least, in my dimension. From talking to Crowley, it sounds like yours is ... a little different."

[blessedarethebookmakers]

"I hope not." And yet, how strange that he'd be so effected. It must be the latent magic of this place. He smiles politely at the description of Doug Fourcette, though very much doubts he'd like him. He went through the nineteen sixties and seventees in SoHo, thank you very much, and has had more than his fill of trippers.

"I suppose it may be. I don't deal with the after life. My purview is strictly with the living. Giving them a nudge in the right direction and all that." Usually.He might have occasionally nudged them oppositely, but only because Crowley had switched off with him. They made a good team, he had to say.

"What is it you do precisely?"

[takeitsleazy]

"Me? Oh, well. I've been saying I'm an Architect, but really at this point I'm probably fired. So: I used to build neighborhoods for the deceased? But now I"m just trying to get four humans to the Good Place, where they belong. So ... tour guide? Afterlife coach? I don't know, no one's really ever done what I'm doing, I don't think."

He shrugged. "We all thought the system worked. But it's rigged, and ... for some reason I'm really upset about that. Must've been all the ethics lessons. ... But hey, there's a thought. I'm kind of ... doing what you do. Only, after they're already dead."

[blessedarethebookmakers]

Well, at least with a demon being fired, it isn't quite so much further to fall. He does feel a bit sad for him though.

"That's good work. I have to say I admire you. And I also agree with you. Everything feels like a set up these days. As if they already know the outcome and everything else is just..." He waves a hand. "Dust in the wind. It's quite sad really. I'm sure you do -- did wonderful work and-- well, I'm certain the Almighty noticed as well."

[takeitsleazy]

"You really think so?" The moon being what it was, what would have just been simple happiness overwhelmed Michael so much that his eyes misted over. His mouth crumpled into a grimace as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "I don't ever think an angel has said anything that nice to me before!"

A sniffle.

"I think - I think the closest I ever got was ... was ..."

He made a high hum at the back of his throat, the sort of noise people make when they're trying not to dissolve into a sobbing mess. "... that I should just go ahead and retire already...!"

[blessedarethebookmakers]

Oh-- the poor dear. Aziraphale really does feel sorry for him.

"What a bad angel. But I know so. In my heart, I do. I have faith. And I'm sure the Almighty has faith in you as well. So... keep up the good work." It's something Crowley would have rolled his eyes at but Aziraphale still feels compelled to say. The thought of a demon perhaps...Ascending? Is certainly an interesting one. A very interesting one indeed.

[takeitsleazy]

"He wasn't a bad angel, he was just ... doing his job." Michael wiped at his eyes. "But ... but thank you. You ... I'm sorry I was rude to you before."

Another sniffle. He's still overwhelmed by the first set of kind remarks, and this new barrage is almost too much for him to handle. "I'll have to do something for you. Oh! Do you like pancakes?"

[blessedarethebookmakers]

"I see..." And probably a better job than him all things considered. "I'm fine, thank you. If you wish to do something then-- keep doing as you are. That's more than enough for me."

Because firstly it's bad enough that Crowley wants to do things for him and secondly he doesn't trust this demon's cooking ability. Either it will be terrible or mediocre and he'll have to pretend to be grateful, or it will be fantastic and he will regret eating it.

[takeitsleazy]

"Oh." And just like that, the air goes right out of his balloon. He sits back down on the couch, molding himself to the cushions.

"Well, if you insist, I guess. Okay."

[blessedarethebookmakers]

Oh for Heaven's sake. Demons. You couldn't even decline politely and they either had a temper tantrum or ended up looking like a beached jellyfish. Aziraphale supposed they were so affection starved or attention starved that they needed that kind of reassurance and he had quite enough to take care of with all the humans running around and the Kingdoms in a mess and the endless dance with Crowley which he had to be so very careful with and back home the Apocolypse loomed like a giant cloud with forking lightning and all he wanted to do was to go back home to his bookshop and hibernate for the next fifty years-- but that was apparently too much to ask.

He smiled instead.

"I don't insist. I merely didn't want to inconvenience you. But, if it's something you truly wish to do than what can I say but it would be my pleasure."

He prays that they are mediocre. And also please dear God above do not let this demon develop any sort of feelings for him because there is only so much even he can take.

[takeitsleazy]

Feelings? Perish the thought. He can barely identify them, let alone allocate any of them to any specific person. And even if he could, the only thing Aziraphale would have in common with said allocated person would be hair color. But those feelings were still lurking, percolating, somewhere deep in the mess of his subconscious. The new moon was pulling them closer to the surface, like a slow-working magnet, but they still had to be filtered through everything else. And there was an awful lot of everything else in the way.

Thankfully, he was just as worried about getting things right as he was being involved in them, and if Friendship meant pancakes, he couldn't just make him any old pancakes. He had to make sure he did it right. "It might be a little while, then. I ... need to make sure they're good. I may not have been at this Good stuff for very long, but I'm pretty sure you don't give someone a crappy thank you present."

[blessedarethebookmakers]

"Take your time by all means." He can't help but be a little relieved at the reprieve, silently wishing it's forgotten about but not going to say no when it turns up again. "Anything you create will be lovely, I'm sure. But it will be better if you are proud of it as well."

[takeitsleazy]

He might forget about the pancakes themselves, but the conversation is certainly going to stick. He gives Aziraphale a little wave, then closes the mirror, leaving him to tend to his sleeping demon.