smk_network | a little more inspiration....

It is late afternoon on the eighteenth, and as the mirror swims to life, it focuses on Aziraphale who is standing about halfway back in the bedroom. He stands, hands tucked in front of him, smiling but looking slightly nervous, his wings arched a bit as if he wants to show them off but not be too obvious. He smiles at the...well...mirror. Fingers clenching a little bit.

When he speaks, though, his voice is low and soothing; warm like honey and pleasant. As if he's happy to see you. And in a way, he is.

"Hello. It's nice to meet you all. My name is Aziraphale and I'm an Angel. Well... Principality if you want to be precise, but that doesn't particularly matter here. First of all, I want to thank everyone who helped me out the other day and apologize for being a bit short with them. This human body is a new thing for me and I rather fear I don't have the hang of it quite yet.

But, we're all a little out of our element here, aren't we? This is a new place for us. A new experience. And a battle we must fight for the good of others who need our help. And sometimes, we can feel stuck, trapped even-- For instance, my wings are rarely displayed and not precisely corporeal when they are. If I need to remove my coat, I can do so with ease. Now, unfortunately, they are as solid as the rest of me.

And yet..." He dips his head and there is a bit of a cheeky smile. "With a little Faith." He hopes. No! Believes! "We can perform miracles."

Then he closes his eyes and focuses, concentrates, believes with everything in him that he still has the capacity for this kind of faith, this kind of miracle. That he will be able to take off his clothes with no problems at all.

All at once he can feel something catch. Something bright and cool and refreshing flow through him and around him.

Anyone looking in would be able to see a faint white gold light beginning to shimmer around him, a wind stirring the curtains and his hair. Perhaps there is a faint vibration, for the mirror slips, so only his head and shoulders are in view. The light seems to flash around him and then--!

He can feel the coolness leave him slowly, like a wave pulling from shore. With a thrilled smile he looks down and notices he did indeed manage to remove his coat as he'd hoped. Or perhaps made it disappear completely. As well as his vest, his shirt, his undershirt-- in fact the only thing left is the fob watch lying helpfully between his bare feet.

"Ah-- Ahem. Well! Slight miscalculation! But as you can see! Everything is just...just tickety...." And then the cold rushes back at once like a tsunami and for the second time in as many days, darkness crashes through him and he pitches forward and out of view.

There is a faint thud as he hits the floor.

But he'll be able to reply to any and all responses in a few hours...

...Probably.

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He held up a hand, refusing the offer.

"I had two bowls already."

And he was a slight thing, those two bowls were more than enough to made up for a day's worth of being too ~~upset~~, distracted to think about eating anything else. Though at that light touch of his arm his mind did wander to dessert, angel cake... this was far too tempting a thought to sit around and observe Aziraphale in his current state. So he made the attempt to act responsibly, by collecting those abandoned bits of clothing from around the room.

"We'll make more friends with a clean outfit to change into. I'm going to try the laundry next. Can't be too difficult..." Could it? "It can be running while I'm in the bath."

"You know how to do laundry?" He's astonished. He's never thought to do it himself. Usually he had someone else do it for him, with compensation, of course.

"You're just full of surprises." Though he would be slightly dubious until the outcome. He was about to add to save his clothes for the second go-round, but then realized he no longer had them and tried to keep smiling. It had all been for the best, hadn't it?

"Well, enjoy your bath, my dear. And thank you for the food."

"I've dabbled..." Not really but, "You know the gasket that goes round the inside of a side loading machine, the one that is almost impossible to clean? That was my idea."

Spreading a little laundry discord! Surely that wouldn't become a problem for him later on though.

"Do you," He paused perhaps about to reconsider the coming offer, after all he had been unnaturally good today and it was beginning to itch. "Want me to wash yours after my load is done?"

"I've never been near one of those things in my life." Those were not spaces he generally wandered into; and standing at the dry cleaning counter hardly worked. Well, he didn't do that either. He usually had a boy to drop off and pick things up for him. So much more convenient.

It was harder to keep that smile though...

"No I... I don't think I have them any more, Crowley. They disappeared." Which was sad but he was an Angel after all. "All for a good cause. Mustn't complain."

Aziraphale wanted to complain though. It was as plain to Crowley as anything, that after several centuries the loss of those clothing items was a terrible blow. Fortunately he could saunter over to the closet, open the door, and lean on the frame next to the perfectly well folded outfit that rested on a shelf next to a hanger containing a pristine white jacket... or nearly pristine. It would be pristine again after the water soluble paintball paint was washed off.

Anyway it was a little jewel he had discovered while rampaging around looking for a pair of scissors.

"Oh!" He is so startled he drops his spoon in the bowl. "Oh, there they are! Thank God!" He puts a hand over his chest. "My shoes too! Oh and the lovely coat." With the stain but it was better than no coat at all. "I am so glad they weren't discorporated. Can you imagine me walking around in a sheet? It would be horrible."

He was even tearing up a little at the sight of them, but blinked and looked away and hoped the demon didn't see. Though there was a sort of glow around him and the feeling in the room turned almost sweet, not that he noticed.

"Thank you, Crowley. I mean it. You've been so--" he stops himself from saying kind. "--accommodating that I'm sure you're up to something completely nefarious." He wipes at an eye.

Crowley's eyebrow bobbed at the suggestion Aziraphale might have to walk around in nothing but a sheet as it was not the worst suggestion he'd ever heard before. But as much as he had craved that warm affection, being able to bask for a brief moment in the angel's glow, as soon as he had earned the praise he felt the need to escape from it.

If only he were up to something nefarious and not having the equivalent of a demonic existential crisis...

"Don't mention it."

No really, don't. The closet door was left open as he stalked away, first to the washer then to the bath. He wouldn't be returning until he was nice and clean... and hopefully some of his senses would have returned to him by then too.

He wouldn't, but he wouldn't forget it either. In some ways, perhaps he should. But for now he was content, full bellied and warm. In fact, by the time Crowley gets out of the bath he is asleep once more, snuggled down into the pillows and wearing a faint smile as if he'd just tasted something pleasant.

So he had. That soup had been heavenl--... er, hellishly good? Well worth eating anyway!

Crowley trolled around the room a little longer after his bath, settling the laundry and finally pawing through that instruction book that had been left for them, mostly just skimming, before he too turned in for the night. He would make a point of warning the angel about Ace sometime in the morning. Couldn't have the knife wielding Antichrist going after Aziraphale.

a little more inspiration....

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