smk_network | a little more inspiration....

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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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It did still work! Look at all those lovely bristles! But, as wonderfully gratifying as it was to test for all those delightful reactions he did feel it was time to let Aziraphale off the hook before the trick was uncovered. Better not to over do it.

"Oh, relax angel!"

He reached over with a fork and purloined a bit of waffle and fruit, bringing it over to the dark side by way of his lips.

"I'm only brainstorming. I haven't decided to do anything yet."

Not even evil as... if no one was around to keep tabs on him did any of that matter? What good was a demon without hell? It was a moral dilemma that he decided to avoid for the time being by having a sip of coffee to chase the waffle.

"Well, pick up a job flyer and... oh! Figured out something by playing with that mirror thingie they gave us."

Crowley reached into his pocket and flipped the device open, touching a few places here and there until what he wanted appeared on the screen and this could be shown to Aziraphale.

"It has a map built in."

He huffs, but can't completely relax. Even though he hadn't decided to do anything, there were things he could and would do and Aziraphale wasn't sure if he had the wherewithal to thwart now. Still, he could trust Crowley, he knew. Up to a point. They were here together after all, working together. He glowers as the demon purloins a bit of waffle and stabs at him with the fork playfully because he finds himself rather enjoying the kind of thing even if most of him is still tense of this whole conversation.

A sip of his latte, which is, well, not the best but not the worst either; and he relaxes a little more, wings even perking a little as he leans in to see the mirror.

"That's clever. It's rather like... what is it you call it? A black berry?" He takes the mirror and explores around the map a bit, just to feel somewhat possessive of it. "And yes to the job flyer I suppose." He sighs. "We are here to get things done after all."

Crowley frowned in thought and then bobbed his head, deciding black berry was as good a description for it as any. He also kept his fork carefully at the ready in case another duel broke out. The bacon would be defended!
But he remained carefully quiet about their being here to 'get things done' as that was also part of that quandary he had decided not to think about anymore today.

"Has some games too if you're completely bored."

He in the meanwhile made his way back to that biscuit having given it just enough time for the jelly and butter to sink in before sampling it. The food here was ok, better than that at the castle by leagues but not up to their usual standards... which did make him curious about that map.

"Anything interesting, little bookshops or out-of-the-way-hidden bistros?"

"Games. How quaint." He didn't understand the appeal of one person games, honestly. His kinds of games were generally cards or chess on some occasions. He'd even tried darts! But just mindlessly playing a game by oneself, well, what was the point?

"Mm. Nothing really. Not that I can see." Other than the library perhaps but... "I'm afraid it's rather small town." It has been a while since he'd lived in one. He preferred the more urban centers. He handed the mirror back, and in the distraction, liberated another bacon half to the side of holiness, munching on it happily.

"We'll be rather starved for culture here."

The mirror was collected with an absentminded brush of fingers before his head lulled to one side, giving angel and the bacon he had stolen in the transaction an incredulous look. This didn't last overly long as he once again found himself rather impressed by the theft and dreamed up an easy solution to prevent further incursions. He turned the plate, making the sausage the nearest thing and placing more distance between angel and bacon.

"Can't have much nightlife..."

Crowley then glanced to the mirror and groaned an annoyed sound.

"Ghhrr, no clubs? Not even one? We're going to have to find something to do in the evenings or I'm going to start climbing the walls."

He slammed the mirror closed and shoved the thing back into a pocket.

"And I don't mean solitaire!"

As if he wouldn't be just as happy with a helping of Crowley's sausage. But he lets him have his meal in peace having liberated enough for himself.

He sighs though in agreement.

"No theater. No opera. No lounges that stay open late. Just a nine to five world, apparently." Well perhaps a bit later than that, but not by much. He cuts himself another slice of waffle and eats it with a bit less enjoyment.

"I suppose we're only here to work."

As for what they could do in the evenings, he's sure he has no idea.

If he were in the mood to be so bold they were unprotected but for a fork which was busy deftly making off with one of Aziraphale's peaches. There was something to this game of snatch and nibble that he found amazingly fun. A bit like that movie he couldn't quite seem to recall, with the dogs and the spaghetti... Maybe if he leaned just a little closer the ending would be the same?

"Screw that."

Which was said both in reference to what Aziraphale said and what he was daydreaming.

"If they think all I'm going to do is train and work they have a shock coming."

There always was that rebellious demon streak just below the surface with Crowley, never one to just give in and follow the rules, he just needed to find an outlet for that.

Oh! Peach thief! You realize, of course, this means war. As Crowley as bringing back a slice of peach, Aziraphale steals the very end off one of his sausages. It is delicious.

"What exactly do you plan to do for fun?" He was curious, though at the same time a bit arch about it. "There's no nightlife to speak of. No seedy little clubs you can show off at. Not even a phone line to tie up." A smirk. "Perhaps you can do a spot of Nannying to relax."

Crowley crinkled his nose at the removal of his sausage tip, such deft fork skills... and it crinkled further at the suggestion, Nannying.

"I could throw the brats into the lagoon if they decided to misbehave."

The purloined peach was held aloft and the syrup running across it threatening to drip off the fruit to land on the table was given a soft and deliberate lick.

"They have a train, I could tamper with the schedule."

A smirk.

"Freeze up those ticket taking stands near the entrance."

He sunk his teeth into the fruit to take a small nibble, his golden unblinking eyes watching Aziraphale as he did so.

"Put a few holes in the paddleboats. I'm sure I could find some kind of entertainment."

And while all those things would have been fun, teasing an angel was better.

"Throw them in the lagoon? How very..." He trailed off at that lick, the contrast of his tongue against the soft fruit...

Hardly worth mentioning. "...nefarious of you." He continued to show that he had not at all noticed, despite not quite being able to look away. He supposed just for that he should steal the whole sausage, but he decided to be the better being and refrained.

Instead he watched him blandly, not at all moved by the display--never mind that his feathers fluffed at the nibble; it was probably hardly noticeable.

"If you get up to that much trouble it will be my duty to thwart you." A warning as he ate a bit of his own waffle off his own plate and not even going near the jam soaked biscuit.

It was so hardly noticeable that Crowley was beaming over the fruit much like in those early days back in the garden, just thrilled at being able to offer such a successful temptation. While the warning was taken more like a hopeful promise. It would make them both more comfortable to get back into their familiar routine.

"If you don't thwart me there won't be anyone around who could."

Aziraphale had exclusive thwarting rights. Which he illustrated by cutting that not-at-all tempting jam slathered biscuit in half and leaving half of it a bit too near the angel's plate in a you could steal this if you really wanted to way.

Now his wings didn't have to give him away, because it was impossible not to smile at a line like that. Though he fought it mightily.

"Flatterer." He swatted Crowley's hand lightly. He was under no illusion that he actually thwarted him. Rather, Crowley allowed himself to be thwarted. Still! Even knowing that he can't help but be pleased as punch.

"That's not going to win you any points, you know." And just to show him so, filched the biscuit, which was delicious and cut a little piece of waffle near the edge of his plate toward Crowley should the demon wish to retaliate.

No points? That was ok, demons didn't really go in for points. ~~He actually thought it had earned him some points and the angel was just being coy about it.~~ But regardless of that it had earned him a more tangible slice of waffle which he did spirit away to his own platter. This restaurant did make a mean waffle and they might as well enjoy it together.

"I've just had a thought."

Just now, as if he hadn't been thinking about it since they arrived at the restaurant or anything.

"Since we will be working together a lot more than we did on Earth we really should spend more time together. Like... dinner. You know, every night or so. Humans do it. They use the time to catch up with what everyone has been into that day. It could be... a standing date, just to go over the deeds of the day."

It seemed like a sensible idea. Who knew, when things got into action, how often they would see one another even sharing the same space however temporarily. Sharing information was also a good idea, considering there was only two of them. It would be rather like giving reports except to someone he was looking forward to meeting.

Only-- a certain phrase stood out in his mind. Oh, he knew what Crowley had meant and he honestly shouldn't tease him about it. It wasn't fair at all.

"A... standing date?" He raised his eyebrows, unable to resist the temptation.

"Y-yea..."

He hesitated as he wondered if the word had been chosen incorrectly. Maybe it had given too much away? Maybe Aziraphale would refuse on the principal that angels didn't 'date' demons, even if it was 'work' and not a 'date-date'... at least not out loud.

"That a problem?"

"Well! So long as you bring me flowers." He spears a whole sausage this time, grinning. He is completely teasing, of course; but watches Crowley's face just the same.

"Flowers?"

His face showed how puzzling the request was. It was odd for a business meeting but he considered it and then shrugged, taking the suggestion a little more seriously than it had perhaps been intended.

"I could do that. There must be a flower shop around somewhere."

What was best for that sort of thing, roses wasn't it?

"Please... It was a joke." Now he was flushing. He hadn't expected Crowley to take it so seriously! "But it does sound like a wonderful idea. Not the flowers the-- er-- meeting. Especially since we don't know how busy we'll be."

No flowers then? There was a flicker of disappointment as if there had been it would have meant something. A business meeting would have become something entirely new and annoyingly desired.

But that Aziraphale had agreed at all would be good enough.

"Exactly. And it would give us the chance to checkout the other restaurants, see if any of the can do more than breakfast."

He caught that flicker of disappointment and pretended he hadn't. Really! They couldn't get that involved. They would have to go back to normal when they returned home and the further they went, the more difficult it would be.

"Such as they are. Perhaps, though, as we beat back the Corrosion, more opportunities will arise. Like a decent bakery for one thing." He sips his latte.

He made no mention of it either, choosing instead to move swiftly away from any overly hopeful sentiments that weren't the least bit returned.

"Chinese. Ooo... I'd kill for a good wonton."

A glance to the angel.

"Not literally, I wouldn't actually murder some one for some take out, just it would be nice to have something other than American. They must do other cuisine styles?"

"Of course I know it's not literal." He clicked his tongue. "I don't have that low an opinion of you! I actually think for a demon you're quite nice."

NICE

He hated that word 'nice'! Nice was angel territory and the thought of being called nice by anyone sent his evil blood boiling! Being called nice by Aziraphale, an angel, his rival, and oldest friend... sent his emotions spiraling between a desire to kill the offending angel or, terrifyingly, devour him. How dare he be called nice, please say it once again.

Crowley leapt over the table, grabbing the angel by his lapels and slamming him against the backrest of his chair. Practically sitting on the pinned angel Crowley snarled down at him, their lips mere centimeters apart as he growled each word.

"I'm not nice! Demons are not nice! We're evil, corrupted and unforgivable. Nice is a four letter word to us! I'm not nice!"

His wings flare a little at the suddenness of it and he's almost sure the chair will tip over, only then Crowley is there snarling at him. He is so close Aziraphale can feel the heat of him, can smell his breath. His mouth is so close it's all he can do not to wrap his wings around them both to shield them from the dead silence and prying eyes of the cafe, to wrap his arms around his neck and pull him in, drawing the anger from the demon with his mouth.

He would taste so very dangerous.

But Crowley is angry, too. Even his feathers seem to be bristling and Aziraphale has to resist the temptation to touch them and feel them soothe under his hands. He knows, no matter what he said, there are ways to soothe the demon, to draw him close. And those words. What does he mean by them. Would he return to the Almighty's Grace if he could? Does he want to stay away from it? He knows why nice is a terrible thing to be, and a dangerous one, but he's always wondered about Crowley's motives-- and if there isn't some spark left, deep inside him, that keeps him going. That keeps him from tipping completely over the edge.

Aziraphale selfishly wants to nurture it. To bring it to a pure white flame and cup it in his hands. But not for the better of all, which is the horrible part. But to know that he could. And he knows there is so much he can do. But there is so much more he won't. Because, perhaps even more selfishly, he wants Crowley to stay Crowley. A horrible demon, yes, but with a hidden font of something deep and warm and wonderful. Almost sacred. Something that no other Angel or Demon he's met has yet to have. Granted he hasn't met many of the latter. He doesn't know what it is, but he wants to see more of it.

"I did say for a demon," he murmurs after a moment, reaching up to rest his hand lightly on one of Crowley's slender wrists. "And you know, there's no one to impress here." Or to be afraid of either, he doesn't add.

No one to impress, well... he wasn't so sure of that at all. Especially now where he found himself looking down into a pair of pale blue eyes. Crowley fancied that he saw longing in those and wouldn't it be easy to take advantage of?

They were so close. He could feel the heat from Aziraphale's thigh on the knee he had placed on his chair to prevent it tipping over. It had been a moment's misplaced rage but he had still been consciousness enough to make sure the angel wouldn't have been harmed by toppling over. His breath smelled just like the syrup they had bandied about earlier when they had been flirting. That was what it was, even an angel must have understood that? And those wings, lovely flared things that seemed to confirm what he had seen in the angel's eyes. Wouldn't he love to ruffle them further?

His own wings softened just at Aziraphale's voice, the snarl following them as the angel clutched at his wrist. Just one word, one look, and he would dive onto those lips eagerly. Just forget everything else.

That was the odd thing about himself. The part that never quite fit in anywhere. He had some how been too evil for Heaven. Unforgivable, had to be, as even God had turned her back on him and cast him out. But sometimes he worried he was too good for Hell for here he was, a demon, absolutely entranced by an angel's light.

But there was no one here to impress... He reconsidered those words as a cleared throat broke through the trance and caused him to look up at the dozens of wide eyes and gaping mouths that now filled the restaurant. Even now Crowley felt he would still turn back and kiss Aziraphale, the audience not really being an issue as he had been reminded that neither Heaven or Hell could touch them here. He doubted Aziraphale would feel the same way about it.

"What? Haven't you ever seen an angel and a demon having a lively conversation?"

The audience received a glare but most of the fire had faded from his voice.

"Go back to your... oatmeal."

At least one person in the crowd seemed to have a bowl of it, foolish mortal that he was. Only when that man did dip his spoon back into his bowl did Crowley look back to Aziraphale and almost whisper a few words.

"Sorry... force of habit really."

He pulled back, intending to retake his seat.

"After so many years it's difficult to get used to the idea that no one is around to check up on you."

Not that they ever had really but the fear was still there, drilled into him after centuries of threats and seeing what happened to other demons who failed.

a little more inspiration....

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