Happy Holidays, rasetsunyo!
Title: Meddling, a Caper in 10 Scenes.
Gift for: rasetsunyo
From:waxbean
Summary: Adam leads the Them back in time to 1926 to right a wrong; featuring Aziraphale/Crowley, Adam/Pepper, hints of Wensleydale/Brian, Dog, and a shiny new Bentley; PG 13 for sexuality, violence, and adult themes, 5750ish words.
Prompt: Historical and/or humourous, preferably something unexpected (bonus if you can make Them historical)
A/N: Do I get the bonus? Big thanks to my betas!
“Well, I thought they were acting pretty weird,” Adam said without preamble. The Them nodded their heads collectively in agreement. They knew who he was talking about. They’d just come from a shopping trip in Central London. Ostensibly, they were there for the purpose of buying new clothes for the upcoming school term. In reality, they’d embraced their freedom and reasonable allotment of pounds and done everything but step inside a clothing store.
Once they made their way to Piccadilly Circus, it wasn’t too long before they’d passed the Ritz. Adam had stopped quite suddenly and then gestured that they should go inside. They’d spotted the pair immediately even though it was apparent that they were trying to blend into the back corner of the restaurant.
“Is that the demon and the--?” Brian had whispered.
But Adam had cut him off, “-Yes, of course. Who else would it be? Let’s get closer.”
The Them had tiptoed towards the back corner, staking out behind a rather large and leafy fake plant. Interestingly, no one in the restaurant noticed four teenagers lurking behind the plant just as no one noticed the increasingly heated conversation between a tubby tweed-clad older gentleman and his hissing younger dinner companion.
“Crowley, you know I won’t do that. There is a line. And that is most definitely across it,” Aziraphale had said, as he stabbed a lovely lemon meringue with his fork. He was tapping his left foot nervously against the table leg closest to Crowley. He bumped Crowley’s leg more than once before he finally put a hand on his leg in an attempt to quell his traitorous fidgeting.
“You owe me.” The demon had leaned back in his chair, his legs inching ever closer to the angel’s under the table. But Aziraphale, as if sensing Crowley’s approach, pulled his feet back, crossing them under his own seat.
“Be that as it may, you will have to think of some other method of repayment. I will not be party to such rampant chaos. You think I don’t know what will happen if I help you with this scheme? Just because I may not keep up with the Financial Times doesn’t mean that I’m clueless about all those sorts of investments humans make and …” Aziraphale had trailed off, a faint blush tinting his pudgy cheeks. If he had shifted his primly crossed ankles even a little bit, he would have touched Crowley’s legs.
“The Financial Times, eh?” Crowley had paused, licked his lips, and then tried for a different angle. “All I’m asking for is that you motivate some of your more hapless souls to seek out mortgages, that’s all. I’ll grease the way with the bankers. Surely, everyone deserves to have their own flat or to have some extra cash to remodel their kitchens.” He nudged Aziraphale’s ankles.
“And how does this help you?” Aziraphale had asked, the accusation clear in his voice. Under the table, he nudged Crowley back, more playfully than his tone had brokered.
“Forget it,” Crowley had said, as he abruptly pulled his legs away from the angel’s. He stood, though Aziraphale had just put another bite of meringue in his mouth. The he leaned down into Aziraphale’s face, causing the Them to take in a collective breath.
“I’ll just have to find another way that you can repay me.” With that, Crowley had walked away, coming within inches of Wensleydale on his way out of the restaurant.
The Them had watched Aziraphale finish his pie, huffing loudly before each bite. Then he stood, emptied the contents of his worn old purse unto the table, and walked out without a backward glance, even though he did actually bump into Brian.
Back at the Pit, the Them continued to ponder the angel and demon’s strange behaviour.
“Perhaps that’s just the way that mortal enemies act ‘round each other,” Brian offered.
“No, they’re hardly mortal,” Adam answered. From a far corner of the Pit, Dog yipped in agreement.
“Besides, enemies don’t have lunch together, do they?” Wensleydale added.
“What do you think, Pep? You haven’t said anything,” Adam pressed.
Pepper had been sitting silently, her head bowed, and her cheeks slightly red. She sighed.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?”
Three blank looks answered her.
“Did you see them under the table?” she asked.
“What?”
“Their legs? They were having one conversation with words but the other one, the more important one, was happening under the table.” Pepper’s cheeks were scarlet.
“What?”
Pepper took a deep breath and then said very quickly, “They have unresolved sexual tension.”
There was total silence while each of the Them looked at his or her respective feet. Even Dog buried his nose in a particularly smelly pair of old gym shorts that might once belonged to Brian.
After a long awkward moment, Adam cleared his throat.
“Seems to me that those two shouldn’t have that - I mean they shouldn’t ‘cause it’s… well, it’s dangerous,” Adam said.
Still no one looked up. Adam tried again.
“Did you hear what they were arguing about?” he asked.
Since this was a safer topic as the Them had long loved to speculate about the motivations of otherworldly beings, everyone begin to speak at once.
Pepper asked, “But what was that all about? What’s wrong with the banks loaning money to poor people?”
“Yes, something like that, what Crowley proposed, happened in America recently. It was terrible-” Wensleydale said.
And Brian interjected, “Why do you think that the angel owed the demon a favor in the first place?”
Adam held his hand up. “Exactly.”
Perplexed, the Them sat silently and waited for Adam to continue.
“Those two are not supposed to meddle. I gave them specific instructions. Now, I get it that they have their work to do. That’s okay. But when they can’t agree about what each other is supposed to be doing, it seems to me that something is off balance. And what Pepper said seems to make sense. So if there’s something they should resolve, then they should go ahead and take care of that.”
Dog poked his head up from the musty shorts.
“Well, I’m not an expert or anything,” Pepper began haltingly. “But on the shows that my mum likes to watch, the ones that come on in the day - not that I watch them - when there’s unresolved sexual tension, it usually means that the persons involved missed their opportunity and can’t find another one.”
Brian snickered. Wensleydale took off his glasses and began to wipe them methodically with the corner of his shirt. Dog slowly crept towards the sneakers that Adam had casually tossed aside.
“Well, that’s an interesting prospect,” Adam mused. “A missed opportunity.” After a long pause, he continued, “Presumably, a missed opportunity could be both identified and then corrected.”
Wensleydale cleared his throat. Hesitatingly, he countered, “Wouldn’t that be meddling?”
Adam laughed. It was a high pitched ringing sound that made Dog’s eyes glow red for a hopeful second. “Of course. But I only told them not to do it. I think I’m supposed to do it when I need to put something right.”
In the rare moments when Adam was truly frightening, the Them always faced the same choice and thus far, always came to the same resolution, regardless of how uneasy each of them actually was.
“I’m in,” Pepper said quickly.
Brian followed, “Me, too.”
Wensleydale, his voice cracking slightly, asked, “What do you have in mind?”
~~2~~
“Get in, kid,” Crowley said from behind the wheel of his Bentley. “I still don’t know why - or how-I agreed to this,” he muttered as Wensleydale opened the door and sat down in the passenger’s seat.
“Thank you for picking me up, Sir,” Wensleydale said promptly.
“So what is this about?”
Wensleydale hesitated because what had seemed easy coming from Adam’s mouth now seemed like downright lunacy.
“Well, er -”
“Spit it out, kid. I haven’t got all day. And tell me where we’re going, too.”
“I need a ride to Kensington Gardens. I thought we could talk about something. And my name is Wensleydale,” Wensleydale said in a rush.
“Fine. Kensington Gardens. You know the Tube goes directly there- ah, never mind, when the Antichrist asks a favor, what can I do? What do you want to talk about?”
“Your relationship with Aziraphale.”
Quite suddenly, the Bentley took a corner on two wheels-not that this is usually extraordinary because the Bentley often takes corners on two wheels. However, in this case, the Bentley rounded the corner on its front two wheels, a feat which really doesn’t even make sense. Luckily, Wensleydale had managed to fasten a decidedly tartan seat belt seconds before the Bentley’s physics-defying maneuvers.
Crowley said nothing but Wensleydale could clearly hear sharp hissing noises over the outraged cries of pedestrians scrambling out of the Bentley’s way.
“I was ju-just wondering if you two were more than friends… or enemies. That’s all.” Wensleydale shamelessly cowered in the rich leather seat.
Crowley’s hissing continued in fits and bursts, with highs and lows, occasionally punctuated by snarls. After several minutes, Wensleydale realized that Crowley was actually communicating but was likely unaware of his choice in language.
“Er, Sir, I can’t understand you.”
The Bentley came to an abrupt halt, inches away from the towering metal gates of Kensington Gardens.
“What? Get out. How dare you ask me that - why would Adam want to know that? Is the angel behind this? Have you been approached by two demons, a short fat one and a tall skinny one? Who are you really working for?”
“No, it’s not like that at all,” Wensleydale sputtered. As much as he really wanted to exit the car, he didn’t want to return to Adam empty-handed. He was desperate and he knew it.
“I just wanted to know… because I might be gay, too!”
Crowley let out a long low growl. “That’s what this is about? I’m not gay - humans are gay. Aziraphale and I do not have a relationship like that.”
Wensleydale was crestfallen. He took care to make sure that it showed. It was his last straw and besides, it often worked for his mum.
Crowley sighed in exasperation. “Listen, kid-- okay, Wensleydale. I am a demon. Aziraphale is an angel. It wouldn’t work. It just wouldn’t. It is amazing that we have the Arrangement.”
Crowley paused. He looked away from Wensleydale and slowly tightened his grip around the steering wheel. “Once, when the Bentley was new… once, and just once, I thought that there might have been something else. But it was nothing.”
Wensleydale kept very quiet and pressed his luck.
“Out, kid. Next time, I think you should just call one of those hotlines.”
“Thanks, Mr. Crowley, you’ve been helpful.”
“Ngk.”
Wensleydale stepped out of the car, momentarily triumphant. When the Bentley was new. It was a start.
~~3~~
“Let me get this straight, young man. You just want to talk? There’s no particular message from Adam?” Aziraphale asked as he poured Brian a cup of tea.
“Yes, that’s right. Sugar, please. Thank you. I thought you might be the perfect person to give me some advice.”
“Me? Oh, mind the books, here’s a napkin.”
“Sure, you have experience.”
Aziraphale, who had walked the earth for thousands of years, was flummoxed. While it was certainly true that he had much experience in all sorts of things, at the moment, he was unable to think of anything that Brian might be interested in.
“Well, I suppose that’s true. Perhaps you could be more specific?”
“I wanted to ask you about,” Brian paused, glancing down at the smeared writing on his palm, “courtship.”
Aziraphale nearly dropped his teacup.
“Courtship? Me? Courtship? My dear young man, what would ever make you think I could counsel you about that?”
“Well, I just thought that you, you know, given your history with Mr. Crowley…”
“Crowley?” Aziraphale gasped.
Aziraphale was silent for a long moment.
“I think I understand you now, Brian. But I don’t, well, I, ah, I don’t have any books about that, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale stammered. “Well, that’s not exactly true - many of my books, especially the early editions, do address that particular subject but I doubt you would find them very helpful.”
“Oh, I didn’t come here for a book, Mr. Fell. I thought we could just talk. And you could tell me about Crowley - and courtship.”
“And you really think this will help you?” Aziraphale asked weakly.
“Undoubtedly.”
“Well, all right then. Not all of us are against that, you know. And I think you’ll find that, in this modern day, most places of employment are not allowed to discriminate on that basis anymore. Humans have really come a long way.”
“Huh?”
“Hmmm. Crowley. You see, I really haven’t ever thought of him that way. Well, that’s not perfectly true, I suppose. You’re sure you need to hear this?”
“Yes.”
“There was this one time. I hadn’t seen Crowley for an age, it seemed. Then, out of nowhere, he pulled up alongside the shop in his Bentley. He’d only just got it. He was so proud. I didn’t need to indulge him with compliments- I’m not really supposed to do that- but the Bentley, and Crowley in it, painted a fine picture. It really did, and still does, suit him. He wanted to take me for a drive. That’s what he said. I hadn’t had a word from him since the War, and he shows up with his new car. Can you imagine, this was 1926, of course, but that was my first ride in an automobile? I was very impressed. I’ve always had a soft spot for human ingenuity, I suppose.”
Brian listened attentively, though he wished he could take notes because listening attentively was not his strong suit.
Aziraphale sighed. “There really isn’t much to this story, I’m afraid. Certainly nothing for you to learn from. We went for a drive. It was a lovely evening. And then, I began to realize that something had changed. I don’t know how to describe it. Crowley just seemed softer, more eager. There was an openness that hadn’t been there before-and it hasn’t been there since, either. I suppose I was open to the idea, myself. I remember that, even though it seemed the height of foolishness, I put my hand on his leg. Don’t be so surprised! You asked me. It’s certainly the most suggestive thing I’ve ever done. Well, then Crowley hit a pedestrian - I’m sure the chap should have died, though he didn’t. Unfortunately, something like that can ruin a mood. I had been about to suggest returning to the shop to share some nice wine. But, as I recall, we ended up having quite a row about the value of human lives, driving safety, and excessiveness. We haven’t brought it up since.” Aziraphale shuddered.
The Bentley, 1926, groping, maimed pedestrian, argument, Brian was repeating a litany of highlights in his head.
“You know, I hadn’t thought about that in a long time,” Aziraphale said slowly as he stirred his tea.
Brian stood up quickly, slopping the remainder of his tea down his shirt. “Well, thank you, Mr. Fell. You’ve really been quite helpful.”
“Yes,” Aziraphale answered. He didn’t seem to notice Brian. He continued to stare aimlessly into his tea.
“Goodbye, then. I’ll just see myself to the front door.”
“Yes, you, too,” Aziraphale replied listlessly.
~~4~~
“Hey, Pep.”
“Yeah?”
“You ever have any of that … er, you know, unresolved sexual tension?”
“What?”
“I mean, you seemed to recognize it pretty fast. I was just wondering if you had any experience with it, that’s all.”
“You’re asking me if I’ve ever had a missed opportunity with someone?”
“Yeah.”
“No, Adam, I haven’t.”
“Well, that’s good, then. ‘Cause it’s clearly a dodgy thing. Makes people crazy.”
~~5~~
“So we know it happened - or rather, didn’t happen in 1926, just after Crowley got his Bentley. We know that it should have happened on a romantic drive - stop snickering, Brian- we know that when Crowley hit that pedestrian and nearly killed him, they lost their opportunity,” Adam stated.
“What we don’t know is the precise date,” Pepper finished.
“Please don’t make me go back and talk to Crowley. He’s unbalanced,” Wensleydale pleaded.
“I suppose I could go back to Aziraphale’s bookshop - he was nice enough. But he might get suspicious if I ask him for the date. You know, I think he thought I was gay,” Brian said with a wink to Wensleydale.
Wensleydale choked on his soda which made Pepper whack him rather hard on the back.
“You okay, Wens?”
“S’okay. You can stop now. I’m not dying. I’m fine. Thanks, Pepper.”
“That’s it,” Adam said as he snapped his fingers. “I’ll be right back.”
Adam stepped away from the Pit. “I know you’re there. I have something to ask.”
I’M LISTENING.
“In 1926, Crowley hit a pedestrian with his Bentley. Aziraphale was in the car. The person should have died but apparently didn’t. Can you tell me when this was?”
FUNNY YOU SHOULD ASK. OCTOBER 23, 1926, OXFORD STREET. IF I WERE YOU, I’D START AT THE BOOKSHOP THOUGH.
“Thanks. That’s really helpful.”
DON’T MENTION IT.
~~6~~
“There it is. It really looks exactly the same, you know. Huh,” Brian said while pointing at Aziraphale’s bookshop across the street.
“All right, is everyone ready? Do you all remember your parts?” Adam asked. With a bit of a flourish, he adjusted the edge of what anyone might refer to as a jaunty black trilby. It fit him well and looked especially nice with the high collar of his black all-weather coat. Dog yipped.
“Yeah, yeah. We remember. Why do we all have hats?” Brian asked as he pushed a wayward lock of hair underneath the brim of a slightly dowdy brown Homburg.
“Because everyone in London in the 1920s wore hats,” Wensleydale said authoritatively. “Besides, you picked that one out.” His own bowler sat tidily on his head, looking much like the bowlers of all passerby men over the age of fifty.
“Fine. I suppose I’ll go first, then. We,” he said as he gestured to Wensleydale, “will meet you and Pepper at the rendezvous point on Oxford.” Then Brian crossed the street, immediately disappearing into the crowds of walkers, slow driving cars, and ambulant merchants. The Them saw him emerge on the other side of the street and then walk up the steep stairs to Aziraphale’s bookshop.
“We’re not open,” came a familiar but disembodied voice from the back of the shop.
“Oh, that’s okay, I’m not here for a book, Sir,” Brian replied.
“Oh?” Aziraphale emerged, looking almost exactly the same as he had when Brian had last seen him. To be fair, Brian allowed, his tweed suit was cut a little different and his sideburns seemed longer. He was also smoking a pipe. But other than that, there was no mistaking Aziraphale.
“Well, how can I help you?” Aziraphale asked, though it was clear that helping Brian was really the last thing that he wanted to do. The two open books in his hands indicated that his interests were already engaged.
Aziraphale took a step closer and peered into Brian’s face. “Do I know you? I’m sure that I do.” He put his pipe down and sniffed the air. “Hmmm. Human,” he muttered.
“Sir, I don’t mean to take your time. I can see that you have other things to do. I just wanted to give you a message, sort of.”
Aziraphale seemed to be waiting. Brian glanced down at Wensleydale’s neat writing on his palm.
“I have some advice to give you regarding courtship.”
“What?” Aziraphale was comically flabbergasted. He sat down on an old wooden chair but he didn’t take his eyes from Brian.
“The advice is to be open to it. That’s all, really. Just if you have the opportunity to enter into courtship, take it.”
Aziraphale’s mouth was slightly ajar. He shook his head a little bit as if to clear a bad thought. But when he looked at Brian again, there was a calculating sharpness in his eyes.
“Young man, I don’t know what or who brought you into my shop today. But I can’t help but notice that you seem out of place. Now, while you are most definitely human, there is something off. I can’t put my finger on it. Probably demonic possession. Yes, that’s it. And likely a joke an old associate of mine would have found very funny. As such, this whole thing is not your fault.”
“Er-”
“Now, why don’t you just turn yourself around, march out of this little shop, and never come back again,” Aziraphale said meaningfully.
Brian blinked. This really wasn’t going according to plan.
Aziraphale looked slightly confused. He took a deep breath, furrowed his brow, and said, “Leave and never come back again.”
“Look, Mr. Fell. I get it that you want me to leave. If you’ll just agree to be open to courtship, I’ll be on my way.”
Aziraphale didn’t seem to hear him. He’d put his books aside, raised both of his hands over his head, and then, with an impressively dramatic gesture- one that created some sparks- intoned, “Never come back again!”
“Mr. Fell?”
“Fine, fine. I’m open to courtship. I don’t know what is powering you, young man, but it’s extraordinary. Now, won’t you please go?”
“And never come back again?” Brian couldn’t resist.
Aziraphale’s eyes flashed rather brilliantly and Brian nearly ran out of the shop.
Almost according to cue, Crowley pulled up in a shiny black Bentley just as Brian stumbled out of Aziraphale’s shop. Wensleydale was waiting for him at the base of the stairs. When they were certain that Crowley was out of the car and could hear them, they started talking very loudly.
“I see you’ve just come from Mr. Fell’s bookshop, my good man,” Wensleydale said stiltedly.
“Oh, yes, such a nice man,” Brian answered, with a forced and slightly droll leer.
“I do agree. He’s very sexy, don’t you think?” Wensleydale put his hand on his hip for emphasis.
Crowley, who had been admiring the way his driver side door opened and then closed, abruptly stopped. Wensleydale and Brian knew they had his attention.
“It’s too bad that he’s not available, isn’t it?” Wensleydale asked.
“Why isn’t he available? How unfair!” Brian said in what very nearly passed as authentic rage.
“Didn’t you know? Rumor has it that his attentions are engaged elsewhere. A younger man, they say. A very good looking younger man. Stylish, some would say flashy, even.”
They both heard a choked sound coming from directly behind them. Brian feigned a crestfallen look. Wensleydale put his hand on Brian’s shoulder.
“There, there. You’ve always got me.”
Brian smiled then, a full and genuine smile. “Don’t I know it. Let’s get out of here.”
The two walked away in time to look over their shoulders as a very good looking, stylish, even flashy, young man-shaped being nearly tripped on the stairs in his haste to get up them.
A handful of muddy blocks away, Pepper was steering a rather ordinary looking bicycle built for two down Oxford Street. Adam was riding in the back and Dog was frolicking beside them, taking care to splash in every accessible puddle.
“Too bad it’s raining now,” Pepper said from the front of the bicycle. Adam didn’t quite know what to say in return. Actually, this had become quite a problem since the Them arrived in 1926 Central London. Adam suspected it was the fault of Pepper’s new short haircut which had brought about the sudden availability of her earlobes for viewing. As it was, he continued to stare at the back of her head and managed to gurgle something that he hoped would pass for an answer.
“Didn’t DEATH say that it would happen up here?” she asked as she began to slow down the bicycle. Adam forced himself to look away from her ears.
“Yes, let’s stop just up there at the light.”
“That’s a traffic light?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s brand new, supposedly. They’ve only just gone up around town.”
“Well, there’s not much to it, so it’s no wonder that Crowley hit someone,” Pepper said as she tried to gracefully exit the bicycle. It was a difficult feat to accomplish in a skirt, even if the skirt was part of a “bicycling costume.”
“He’s not going to hit anyone this time,” Adam said definitively. He was glad to feel some of his confidence returning. After all, he hadn’t brought the Them into the 1920s just so he could look at Pepper’s ears. That just happened to be an unexpected bonus.
“Are you staring at my hat, Adam?”
“What?”
“You keep looking at my head. Is it really that bad? Don’t you want to get off the bike?”
“What? The bike? Oh, yeah, the bike. I was just holding it steady for you, that’s all,” Adam said.
“Well, I’m off, thanks. Do you want me to take off the hat? You’re still looking.”
“Take it off?”
“Adam, you’re really behaving strangely.”
“Ears,” Adam whispered. Then he clamped his both of his hands over his mouth.
“Did you just say, ‘ears’?”
Luckily for Adam, Dog began to bark at the impending approach of one shiny new Bentley.
Adam looked all around. There were no pedestrians who looked as if they wanted to cross the street. There were bustling shops, and street merchants, and plenty of people on the sidewalks. But no one seemed about to run out into the street. In fact, he, Pepper, and Dog, were the only ones even standing in the street, and they were safely to the right side of the road.
“Is there something wrong with my ears, Adam Young?”
“What? No! Look, do you see anyone out of place? They’ll be along here in seconds.”
“No, I don’t. And don’t think you’re getting out of this. You’ve been staring at my ears. I thought it was this ridiculous hat or maybe this new haircut. But it’s my ears, isn’t it? Answer me!” Pepper demanded, her eyes flashing dangerously in the low red glow of the nearby traffic light.
“Yes,” Adam said weakly. “Your ears.” Adam looked wildly about. Not fifty yards away, he could see Aziraphale sitting rather closely to Crowley in the Bentley. They really weren’t moving that fast. He had a few seconds for this. He leaned forward, into Pepper’s surprised face, breathed along her neck, and took one fleshy earlobe into his mouth. “Your ears,” Adam whispered as he bit down softly. “They’re beautiful.”
“Adam! Look out!” Pepper yelled, pulling away quickly.
The Bentley had swerved, side-swiping a food cart, and was now headed directly for where Adam, Pepper, and Dog were standing. Adam pushed Pepper backwards onto the sidewalk. Like the otherworldly creature that he was, Dog leapt a rather impressive distance to safety. But Adam froze, and the memory of a sardonic expression on a skull passed before his eyes.
“You know, I’m not going to be dying right now,” Adam said.
I KNOW.
“Then why are you here?”
PROPER FORM, OF COURSE.
“I see. Can you tell me what’s next?”
OPEN YOUR EYES.
“Thanks,” Adam said, as he forced his achingly heavy eyes to open.
There seemed to be a lot going on around him. He wondered briefly how long his conversation with DEATH had lasted. Dog was licking his face. And by the looks of Dog’s face, Adam’s face was fairly bloodied. Pepper was crying. Wensleydale and Brian were standing very closely together and both wore similar looks of concern. But the loudest noise was coming from a few feet away where Adam could clearly hear a supernaturally heated argument brewing.
Adam pushed himself up into a seated position so he could better see what was happening. Pepper had stopped crying and had put her arms around his shoulders. Brian and Wensleydale had sat down on the ground next to Adam. Dog was now licking the blood from his chops with a bit too much relish. No one else was watching. No one else had even noticed the accident. And now, no one seemed to be bothered by the upended Bentley or the two decreasingly man-shaped beings yelling in the middle of the street.
Adam couldn’t make out the particulars but phrases like “no value for human life,” “driving safety,” and “practical joke,” were hurled back and forth between the two. His head was still pounding. But he could begin to see a faint shimmery outline of brilliant white wings behind Aziraphale while something similarly shaped but dark and hazy was protruding from Crowley’s back. Then Crowley charged Aziraphale, knocking him onto his back.
Adam felt like the earth beneath him was beginning to shake. This was his fault. He knew it. He looked at the Them’s frightened faces. Then he looked back at the indistinct whirlwind of dust and rain and wings and power. With all the resolve he could muster, he stood up and limped towards Aziraphale and Crowley.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay,” he said. It sounded comical and completely out of place. But it was enough to stop the two from fighting long enough to regard him.
Then he limped back to the Them and Dog.
“We better go.”
“Are you going to put things back the way they were?” Wensleydale ventured.
“Nah, this is the way they were. But I don’t think I should be meddling with those two again. They’re going to have to resolve this on their own,” Adam replied.
Aziraphale and Crowley had resumed their yelling match but their wings were no longer visible and the intensity of the overall fight had decreased. Neither one noticed when four teenagers and a dog simply vanished from the street.
~~7~~
“Do you really think he’ll give up meddling?” Brian asked as he climbed into Wensleydale’s mother’s van.
“I’d like to think he learned something from all of this. So yes, I do think he may give up meddling, at least for a while,” Wensleydale answered, smiling. “Buckle up.”
“Wens, how did you get Crowley to tell you about Aziraphale?” Brian asked as he grudgingly fastened his seat belt.
“I asked him directly. I pouted. And then I told him that I might be gay.”
“Yeah, I thought as much.”
“You did?”
“Well, sure. That’s how Aziraphale opened up to me, too. He thought I was gay.”
“But that’s different. Did you mean for him to think that?”
“No, not at first. But when I realized that he did think that and that it was working, I didn’t mind.”
“That’s still different, Brian.”
“How is it different? I am gay, you know. At least I think I am.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you say anything before?”
“I dunno. But Adam’s not the only one who learned something from walking around in 1926. I’m not going to have a missed opportunity.”
Wensleydale gulped. Brian looked hopeful.
“So, do you want to go do something?”
“You mean like a date? Right now?”
“Yeah. Yeah to both.”
“Okay, then.”
~~8~~
Adam had certainly learned a few lessons from his most recent adventure. Though he would have been the first to admit such, he was rather busy being thoroughly snogged by Pepper, who had decided to keep her short new do.
~~9~~
Crowley had no memory of what had initially motivated him to get into his Bentley. If he had thought about it, he might have guessed that he had some tempting to do at a couple of the dodgier mortgage companies in town. But for no apparent reason, he realized quite suddenly that he and the angel had some unfinished business. He gripped his steering wheel tightly, feeling sharp claws beginning to tear through the flesh of his fingers. The closer he got to Soho, the more he hissed.
~~10~~
Aziraphale was growing more and more distracted. He was now moving and restacking a shelf of early edition Bibles for the eighth consecutive time, without gloves. No one dared to come into his shop. If they had, they might have heard the agitated bookkeeper muttering under his breath, “unfinished business” and “those meddling kids.”
When Aziraphale heard the Bentley pull up in front of the shop, his wings whipped out and his eyes burned so brightly that he could have easily charred some of his precious books. He stood waiting for Crowley in the middle of the shop, growling.
Crowley, who barely had enough forethought to remove his new leather jacket before his own wings ripped out, barged into the shop. He’d purposefully left his sunglasses in the car so that the Aziraphale would feel the full impact of his blazing yellow-orange eyes.
“Angel, you owe me. I’m here to collect,” he hissed.
Aziraphale didn’t allow Crowley to take more than four steps into the shop before he jumped him, knocking him to the floor. Before Crowley could even catch his breath, Aziraphale straddled his waist and gripped his throat tightly with his hands.
“The hell you are,” he whispered as he leaned down into Crowley’s face. Though his grip was tight and menacing, the tongue that traced along Crowley’s jaw was hungry and inviting.
Aziraphale waited, neither loosening his grip nor removing his tongue, for Crowley to recognize the choice he was presented with. It was several torturously long seconds before Aziraphale felt Crowley begin to relax. Then he felt Crowley’s sharp claws retract.
“That’s it, my dear,” Aziraphale said as he moved his tongue further along Crowley’s jaw, tracing the smooth angular path from neck to ear.
Crowley hissed and writhed beneath Aziraphale. However, Aziraphale, even in his lust-induced haziness, could interpret Crowley’s sibilant language.
“Why, yes, I’d love to go for a ride,” he answered as his mouth closed over Crowley’s. Then he kissed him.
And though it was more than 80 years (and several hours) late, Crowley did take Aziraphale for that ride in the Bentley.
~~fin~~
Gift for: rasetsunyo
From:waxbean
Summary: Adam leads the Them back in time to 1926 to right a wrong; featuring Aziraphale/Crowley, Adam/Pepper, hints of Wensleydale/Brian, Dog, and a shiny new Bentley; PG 13 for sexuality, violence, and adult themes, 5750ish words.
Prompt: Historical and/or humourous, preferably something unexpected (bonus if you can make Them historical)
A/N: Do I get the bonus? Big thanks to my betas!
“Well, I thought they were acting pretty weird,” Adam said without preamble. The Them nodded their heads collectively in agreement. They knew who he was talking about. They’d just come from a shopping trip in Central London. Ostensibly, they were there for the purpose of buying new clothes for the upcoming school term. In reality, they’d embraced their freedom and reasonable allotment of pounds and done everything but step inside a clothing store.
Once they made their way to Piccadilly Circus, it wasn’t too long before they’d passed the Ritz. Adam had stopped quite suddenly and then gestured that they should go inside. They’d spotted the pair immediately even though it was apparent that they were trying to blend into the back corner of the restaurant.
“Is that the demon and the--?” Brian had whispered.
But Adam had cut him off, “-Yes, of course. Who else would it be? Let’s get closer.”
The Them had tiptoed towards the back corner, staking out behind a rather large and leafy fake plant. Interestingly, no one in the restaurant noticed four teenagers lurking behind the plant just as no one noticed the increasingly heated conversation between a tubby tweed-clad older gentleman and his hissing younger dinner companion.
“Crowley, you know I won’t do that. There is a line. And that is most definitely across it,” Aziraphale had said, as he stabbed a lovely lemon meringue with his fork. He was tapping his left foot nervously against the table leg closest to Crowley. He bumped Crowley’s leg more than once before he finally put a hand on his leg in an attempt to quell his traitorous fidgeting.
“You owe me.” The demon had leaned back in his chair, his legs inching ever closer to the angel’s under the table. But Aziraphale, as if sensing Crowley’s approach, pulled his feet back, crossing them under his own seat.
“Be that as it may, you will have to think of some other method of repayment. I will not be party to such rampant chaos. You think I don’t know what will happen if I help you with this scheme? Just because I may not keep up with the Financial Times doesn’t mean that I’m clueless about all those sorts of investments humans make and …” Aziraphale had trailed off, a faint blush tinting his pudgy cheeks. If he had shifted his primly crossed ankles even a little bit, he would have touched Crowley’s legs.
“The Financial Times, eh?” Crowley had paused, licked his lips, and then tried for a different angle. “All I’m asking for is that you motivate some of your more hapless souls to seek out mortgages, that’s all. I’ll grease the way with the bankers. Surely, everyone deserves to have their own flat or to have some extra cash to remodel their kitchens.” He nudged Aziraphale’s ankles.
“And how does this help you?” Aziraphale had asked, the accusation clear in his voice. Under the table, he nudged Crowley back, more playfully than his tone had brokered.
“Forget it,” Crowley had said, as he abruptly pulled his legs away from the angel’s. He stood, though Aziraphale had just put another bite of meringue in his mouth. The he leaned down into Aziraphale’s face, causing the Them to take in a collective breath.
“I’ll just have to find another way that you can repay me.” With that, Crowley had walked away, coming within inches of Wensleydale on his way out of the restaurant.
The Them had watched Aziraphale finish his pie, huffing loudly before each bite. Then he stood, emptied the contents of his worn old purse unto the table, and walked out without a backward glance, even though he did actually bump into Brian.
Back at the Pit, the Them continued to ponder the angel and demon’s strange behaviour.
“Perhaps that’s just the way that mortal enemies act ‘round each other,” Brian offered.
“No, they’re hardly mortal,” Adam answered. From a far corner of the Pit, Dog yipped in agreement.
“Besides, enemies don’t have lunch together, do they?” Wensleydale added.
“What do you think, Pep? You haven’t said anything,” Adam pressed.
Pepper had been sitting silently, her head bowed, and her cheeks slightly red. She sighed.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?”
Three blank looks answered her.
“Did you see them under the table?” she asked.
“What?”
“Their legs? They were having one conversation with words but the other one, the more important one, was happening under the table.” Pepper’s cheeks were scarlet.
“What?”
Pepper took a deep breath and then said very quickly, “They have unresolved sexual tension.”
There was total silence while each of the Them looked at his or her respective feet. Even Dog buried his nose in a particularly smelly pair of old gym shorts that might once belonged to Brian.
After a long awkward moment, Adam cleared his throat.
“Seems to me that those two shouldn’t have that - I mean they shouldn’t ‘cause it’s… well, it’s dangerous,” Adam said.
Still no one looked up. Adam tried again.
“Did you hear what they were arguing about?” he asked.
Since this was a safer topic as the Them had long loved to speculate about the motivations of otherworldly beings, everyone begin to speak at once.
Pepper asked, “But what was that all about? What’s wrong with the banks loaning money to poor people?”
“Yes, something like that, what Crowley proposed, happened in America recently. It was terrible-” Wensleydale said.
And Brian interjected, “Why do you think that the angel owed the demon a favor in the first place?”
Adam held his hand up. “Exactly.”
Perplexed, the Them sat silently and waited for Adam to continue.
“Those two are not supposed to meddle. I gave them specific instructions. Now, I get it that they have their work to do. That’s okay. But when they can’t agree about what each other is supposed to be doing, it seems to me that something is off balance. And what Pepper said seems to make sense. So if there’s something they should resolve, then they should go ahead and take care of that.”
Dog poked his head up from the musty shorts.
“Well, I’m not an expert or anything,” Pepper began haltingly. “But on the shows that my mum likes to watch, the ones that come on in the day - not that I watch them - when there’s unresolved sexual tension, it usually means that the persons involved missed their opportunity and can’t find another one.”
Brian snickered. Wensleydale took off his glasses and began to wipe them methodically with the corner of his shirt. Dog slowly crept towards the sneakers that Adam had casually tossed aside.
“Well, that’s an interesting prospect,” Adam mused. “A missed opportunity.” After a long pause, he continued, “Presumably, a missed opportunity could be both identified and then corrected.”
Wensleydale cleared his throat. Hesitatingly, he countered, “Wouldn’t that be meddling?”
Adam laughed. It was a high pitched ringing sound that made Dog’s eyes glow red for a hopeful second. “Of course. But I only told them not to do it. I think I’m supposed to do it when I need to put something right.”
In the rare moments when Adam was truly frightening, the Them always faced the same choice and thus far, always came to the same resolution, regardless of how uneasy each of them actually was.
“I’m in,” Pepper said quickly.
Brian followed, “Me, too.”
Wensleydale, his voice cracking slightly, asked, “What do you have in mind?”
~~2~~
“Get in, kid,” Crowley said from behind the wheel of his Bentley. “I still don’t know why - or how-I agreed to this,” he muttered as Wensleydale opened the door and sat down in the passenger’s seat.
“Thank you for picking me up, Sir,” Wensleydale said promptly.
“So what is this about?”
Wensleydale hesitated because what had seemed easy coming from Adam’s mouth now seemed like downright lunacy.
“Well, er -”
“Spit it out, kid. I haven’t got all day. And tell me where we’re going, too.”
“I need a ride to Kensington Gardens. I thought we could talk about something. And my name is Wensleydale,” Wensleydale said in a rush.
“Fine. Kensington Gardens. You know the Tube goes directly there- ah, never mind, when the Antichrist asks a favor, what can I do? What do you want to talk about?”
“Your relationship with Aziraphale.”
Quite suddenly, the Bentley took a corner on two wheels-not that this is usually extraordinary because the Bentley often takes corners on two wheels. However, in this case, the Bentley rounded the corner on its front two wheels, a feat which really doesn’t even make sense. Luckily, Wensleydale had managed to fasten a decidedly tartan seat belt seconds before the Bentley’s physics-defying maneuvers.
Crowley said nothing but Wensleydale could clearly hear sharp hissing noises over the outraged cries of pedestrians scrambling out of the Bentley’s way.
“I was ju-just wondering if you two were more than friends… or enemies. That’s all.” Wensleydale shamelessly cowered in the rich leather seat.
Crowley’s hissing continued in fits and bursts, with highs and lows, occasionally punctuated by snarls. After several minutes, Wensleydale realized that Crowley was actually communicating but was likely unaware of his choice in language.
“Er, Sir, I can’t understand you.”
The Bentley came to an abrupt halt, inches away from the towering metal gates of Kensington Gardens.
“What? Get out. How dare you ask me that - why would Adam want to know that? Is the angel behind this? Have you been approached by two demons, a short fat one and a tall skinny one? Who are you really working for?”
“No, it’s not like that at all,” Wensleydale sputtered. As much as he really wanted to exit the car, he didn’t want to return to Adam empty-handed. He was desperate and he knew it.
“I just wanted to know… because I might be gay, too!”
Crowley let out a long low growl. “That’s what this is about? I’m not gay - humans are gay. Aziraphale and I do not have a relationship like that.”
Wensleydale was crestfallen. He took care to make sure that it showed. It was his last straw and besides, it often worked for his mum.
Crowley sighed in exasperation. “Listen, kid-- okay, Wensleydale. I am a demon. Aziraphale is an angel. It wouldn’t work. It just wouldn’t. It is amazing that we have the Arrangement.”
Crowley paused. He looked away from Wensleydale and slowly tightened his grip around the steering wheel. “Once, when the Bentley was new… once, and just once, I thought that there might have been something else. But it was nothing.”
Wensleydale kept very quiet and pressed his luck.
“Out, kid. Next time, I think you should just call one of those hotlines.”
“Thanks, Mr. Crowley, you’ve been helpful.”
“Ngk.”
Wensleydale stepped out of the car, momentarily triumphant. When the Bentley was new. It was a start.
~~3~~
“Let me get this straight, young man. You just want to talk? There’s no particular message from Adam?” Aziraphale asked as he poured Brian a cup of tea.
“Yes, that’s right. Sugar, please. Thank you. I thought you might be the perfect person to give me some advice.”
“Me? Oh, mind the books, here’s a napkin.”
“Sure, you have experience.”
Aziraphale, who had walked the earth for thousands of years, was flummoxed. While it was certainly true that he had much experience in all sorts of things, at the moment, he was unable to think of anything that Brian might be interested in.
“Well, I suppose that’s true. Perhaps you could be more specific?”
“I wanted to ask you about,” Brian paused, glancing down at the smeared writing on his palm, “courtship.”
Aziraphale nearly dropped his teacup.
“Courtship? Me? Courtship? My dear young man, what would ever make you think I could counsel you about that?”
“Well, I just thought that you, you know, given your history with Mr. Crowley…”
“Crowley?” Aziraphale gasped.
Aziraphale was silent for a long moment.
“I think I understand you now, Brian. But I don’t, well, I, ah, I don’t have any books about that, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale stammered. “Well, that’s not exactly true - many of my books, especially the early editions, do address that particular subject but I doubt you would find them very helpful.”
“Oh, I didn’t come here for a book, Mr. Fell. I thought we could just talk. And you could tell me about Crowley - and courtship.”
“And you really think this will help you?” Aziraphale asked weakly.
“Undoubtedly.”
“Well, all right then. Not all of us are against that, you know. And I think you’ll find that, in this modern day, most places of employment are not allowed to discriminate on that basis anymore. Humans have really come a long way.”
“Huh?”
“Hmmm. Crowley. You see, I really haven’t ever thought of him that way. Well, that’s not perfectly true, I suppose. You’re sure you need to hear this?”
“Yes.”
“There was this one time. I hadn’t seen Crowley for an age, it seemed. Then, out of nowhere, he pulled up alongside the shop in his Bentley. He’d only just got it. He was so proud. I didn’t need to indulge him with compliments- I’m not really supposed to do that- but the Bentley, and Crowley in it, painted a fine picture. It really did, and still does, suit him. He wanted to take me for a drive. That’s what he said. I hadn’t had a word from him since the War, and he shows up with his new car. Can you imagine, this was 1926, of course, but that was my first ride in an automobile? I was very impressed. I’ve always had a soft spot for human ingenuity, I suppose.”
Brian listened attentively, though he wished he could take notes because listening attentively was not his strong suit.
Aziraphale sighed. “There really isn’t much to this story, I’m afraid. Certainly nothing for you to learn from. We went for a drive. It was a lovely evening. And then, I began to realize that something had changed. I don’t know how to describe it. Crowley just seemed softer, more eager. There was an openness that hadn’t been there before-and it hasn’t been there since, either. I suppose I was open to the idea, myself. I remember that, even though it seemed the height of foolishness, I put my hand on his leg. Don’t be so surprised! You asked me. It’s certainly the most suggestive thing I’ve ever done. Well, then Crowley hit a pedestrian - I’m sure the chap should have died, though he didn’t. Unfortunately, something like that can ruin a mood. I had been about to suggest returning to the shop to share some nice wine. But, as I recall, we ended up having quite a row about the value of human lives, driving safety, and excessiveness. We haven’t brought it up since.” Aziraphale shuddered.
The Bentley, 1926, groping, maimed pedestrian, argument, Brian was repeating a litany of highlights in his head.
“You know, I hadn’t thought about that in a long time,” Aziraphale said slowly as he stirred his tea.
Brian stood up quickly, slopping the remainder of his tea down his shirt. “Well, thank you, Mr. Fell. You’ve really been quite helpful.”
“Yes,” Aziraphale answered. He didn’t seem to notice Brian. He continued to stare aimlessly into his tea.
“Goodbye, then. I’ll just see myself to the front door.”
“Yes, you, too,” Aziraphale replied listlessly.
~~4~~
“Hey, Pep.”
“Yeah?”
“You ever have any of that … er, you know, unresolved sexual tension?”
“What?”
“I mean, you seemed to recognize it pretty fast. I was just wondering if you had any experience with it, that’s all.”
“You’re asking me if I’ve ever had a missed opportunity with someone?”
“Yeah.”
“No, Adam, I haven’t.”
“Well, that’s good, then. ‘Cause it’s clearly a dodgy thing. Makes people crazy.”
~~5~~
“So we know it happened - or rather, didn’t happen in 1926, just after Crowley got his Bentley. We know that it should have happened on a romantic drive - stop snickering, Brian- we know that when Crowley hit that pedestrian and nearly killed him, they lost their opportunity,” Adam stated.
“What we don’t know is the precise date,” Pepper finished.
“Please don’t make me go back and talk to Crowley. He’s unbalanced,” Wensleydale pleaded.
“I suppose I could go back to Aziraphale’s bookshop - he was nice enough. But he might get suspicious if I ask him for the date. You know, I think he thought I was gay,” Brian said with a wink to Wensleydale.
Wensleydale choked on his soda which made Pepper whack him rather hard on the back.
“You okay, Wens?”
“S’okay. You can stop now. I’m not dying. I’m fine. Thanks, Pepper.”
“That’s it,” Adam said as he snapped his fingers. “I’ll be right back.”
Adam stepped away from the Pit. “I know you’re there. I have something to ask.”
I’M LISTENING.
“In 1926, Crowley hit a pedestrian with his Bentley. Aziraphale was in the car. The person should have died but apparently didn’t. Can you tell me when this was?”
FUNNY YOU SHOULD ASK. OCTOBER 23, 1926, OXFORD STREET. IF I WERE YOU, I’D START AT THE BOOKSHOP THOUGH.
“Thanks. That’s really helpful.”
DON’T MENTION IT.
~~6~~
“There it is. It really looks exactly the same, you know. Huh,” Brian said while pointing at Aziraphale’s bookshop across the street.
“All right, is everyone ready? Do you all remember your parts?” Adam asked. With a bit of a flourish, he adjusted the edge of what anyone might refer to as a jaunty black trilby. It fit him well and looked especially nice with the high collar of his black all-weather coat. Dog yipped.
“Yeah, yeah. We remember. Why do we all have hats?” Brian asked as he pushed a wayward lock of hair underneath the brim of a slightly dowdy brown Homburg.
“Because everyone in London in the 1920s wore hats,” Wensleydale said authoritatively. “Besides, you picked that one out.” His own bowler sat tidily on his head, looking much like the bowlers of all passerby men over the age of fifty.
“Fine. I suppose I’ll go first, then. We,” he said as he gestured to Wensleydale, “will meet you and Pepper at the rendezvous point on Oxford.” Then Brian crossed the street, immediately disappearing into the crowds of walkers, slow driving cars, and ambulant merchants. The Them saw him emerge on the other side of the street and then walk up the steep stairs to Aziraphale’s bookshop.
“We’re not open,” came a familiar but disembodied voice from the back of the shop.
“Oh, that’s okay, I’m not here for a book, Sir,” Brian replied.
“Oh?” Aziraphale emerged, looking almost exactly the same as he had when Brian had last seen him. To be fair, Brian allowed, his tweed suit was cut a little different and his sideburns seemed longer. He was also smoking a pipe. But other than that, there was no mistaking Aziraphale.
“Well, how can I help you?” Aziraphale asked, though it was clear that helping Brian was really the last thing that he wanted to do. The two open books in his hands indicated that his interests were already engaged.
Aziraphale took a step closer and peered into Brian’s face. “Do I know you? I’m sure that I do.” He put his pipe down and sniffed the air. “Hmmm. Human,” he muttered.
“Sir, I don’t mean to take your time. I can see that you have other things to do. I just wanted to give you a message, sort of.”
Aziraphale seemed to be waiting. Brian glanced down at Wensleydale’s neat writing on his palm.
“I have some advice to give you regarding courtship.”
“What?” Aziraphale was comically flabbergasted. He sat down on an old wooden chair but he didn’t take his eyes from Brian.
“The advice is to be open to it. That’s all, really. Just if you have the opportunity to enter into courtship, take it.”
Aziraphale’s mouth was slightly ajar. He shook his head a little bit as if to clear a bad thought. But when he looked at Brian again, there was a calculating sharpness in his eyes.
“Young man, I don’t know what or who brought you into my shop today. But I can’t help but notice that you seem out of place. Now, while you are most definitely human, there is something off. I can’t put my finger on it. Probably demonic possession. Yes, that’s it. And likely a joke an old associate of mine would have found very funny. As such, this whole thing is not your fault.”
“Er-”
“Now, why don’t you just turn yourself around, march out of this little shop, and never come back again,” Aziraphale said meaningfully.
Brian blinked. This really wasn’t going according to plan.
Aziraphale looked slightly confused. He took a deep breath, furrowed his brow, and said, “Leave and never come back again.”
“Look, Mr. Fell. I get it that you want me to leave. If you’ll just agree to be open to courtship, I’ll be on my way.”
Aziraphale didn’t seem to hear him. He’d put his books aside, raised both of his hands over his head, and then, with an impressively dramatic gesture- one that created some sparks- intoned, “Never come back again!”
“Mr. Fell?”
“Fine, fine. I’m open to courtship. I don’t know what is powering you, young man, but it’s extraordinary. Now, won’t you please go?”
“And never come back again?” Brian couldn’t resist.
Aziraphale’s eyes flashed rather brilliantly and Brian nearly ran out of the shop.
Almost according to cue, Crowley pulled up in a shiny black Bentley just as Brian stumbled out of Aziraphale’s shop. Wensleydale was waiting for him at the base of the stairs. When they were certain that Crowley was out of the car and could hear them, they started talking very loudly.
“I see you’ve just come from Mr. Fell’s bookshop, my good man,” Wensleydale said stiltedly.
“Oh, yes, such a nice man,” Brian answered, with a forced and slightly droll leer.
“I do agree. He’s very sexy, don’t you think?” Wensleydale put his hand on his hip for emphasis.
Crowley, who had been admiring the way his driver side door opened and then closed, abruptly stopped. Wensleydale and Brian knew they had his attention.
“It’s too bad that he’s not available, isn’t it?” Wensleydale asked.
“Why isn’t he available? How unfair!” Brian said in what very nearly passed as authentic rage.
“Didn’t you know? Rumor has it that his attentions are engaged elsewhere. A younger man, they say. A very good looking younger man. Stylish, some would say flashy, even.”
They both heard a choked sound coming from directly behind them. Brian feigned a crestfallen look. Wensleydale put his hand on Brian’s shoulder.
“There, there. You’ve always got me.”
Brian smiled then, a full and genuine smile. “Don’t I know it. Let’s get out of here.”
The two walked away in time to look over their shoulders as a very good looking, stylish, even flashy, young man-shaped being nearly tripped on the stairs in his haste to get up them.
A handful of muddy blocks away, Pepper was steering a rather ordinary looking bicycle built for two down Oxford Street. Adam was riding in the back and Dog was frolicking beside them, taking care to splash in every accessible puddle.
“Too bad it’s raining now,” Pepper said from the front of the bicycle. Adam didn’t quite know what to say in return. Actually, this had become quite a problem since the Them arrived in 1926 Central London. Adam suspected it was the fault of Pepper’s new short haircut which had brought about the sudden availability of her earlobes for viewing. As it was, he continued to stare at the back of her head and managed to gurgle something that he hoped would pass for an answer.
“Didn’t DEATH say that it would happen up here?” she asked as she began to slow down the bicycle. Adam forced himself to look away from her ears.
“Yes, let’s stop just up there at the light.”
“That’s a traffic light?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s brand new, supposedly. They’ve only just gone up around town.”
“Well, there’s not much to it, so it’s no wonder that Crowley hit someone,” Pepper said as she tried to gracefully exit the bicycle. It was a difficult feat to accomplish in a skirt, even if the skirt was part of a “bicycling costume.”
“He’s not going to hit anyone this time,” Adam said definitively. He was glad to feel some of his confidence returning. After all, he hadn’t brought the Them into the 1920s just so he could look at Pepper’s ears. That just happened to be an unexpected bonus.
“Are you staring at my hat, Adam?”
“What?”
“You keep looking at my head. Is it really that bad? Don’t you want to get off the bike?”
“What? The bike? Oh, yeah, the bike. I was just holding it steady for you, that’s all,” Adam said.
“Well, I’m off, thanks. Do you want me to take off the hat? You’re still looking.”
“Take it off?”
“Adam, you’re really behaving strangely.”
“Ears,” Adam whispered. Then he clamped his both of his hands over his mouth.
“Did you just say, ‘ears’?”
Luckily for Adam, Dog began to bark at the impending approach of one shiny new Bentley.
Adam looked all around. There were no pedestrians who looked as if they wanted to cross the street. There were bustling shops, and street merchants, and plenty of people on the sidewalks. But no one seemed about to run out into the street. In fact, he, Pepper, and Dog, were the only ones even standing in the street, and they were safely to the right side of the road.
“Is there something wrong with my ears, Adam Young?”
“What? No! Look, do you see anyone out of place? They’ll be along here in seconds.”
“No, I don’t. And don’t think you’re getting out of this. You’ve been staring at my ears. I thought it was this ridiculous hat or maybe this new haircut. But it’s my ears, isn’t it? Answer me!” Pepper demanded, her eyes flashing dangerously in the low red glow of the nearby traffic light.
“Yes,” Adam said weakly. “Your ears.” Adam looked wildly about. Not fifty yards away, he could see Aziraphale sitting rather closely to Crowley in the Bentley. They really weren’t moving that fast. He had a few seconds for this. He leaned forward, into Pepper’s surprised face, breathed along her neck, and took one fleshy earlobe into his mouth. “Your ears,” Adam whispered as he bit down softly. “They’re beautiful.”
“Adam! Look out!” Pepper yelled, pulling away quickly.
The Bentley had swerved, side-swiping a food cart, and was now headed directly for where Adam, Pepper, and Dog were standing. Adam pushed Pepper backwards onto the sidewalk. Like the otherworldly creature that he was, Dog leapt a rather impressive distance to safety. But Adam froze, and the memory of a sardonic expression on a skull passed before his eyes.
“You know, I’m not going to be dying right now,” Adam said.
I KNOW.
“Then why are you here?”
PROPER FORM, OF COURSE.
“I see. Can you tell me what’s next?”
OPEN YOUR EYES.
“Thanks,” Adam said, as he forced his achingly heavy eyes to open.
There seemed to be a lot going on around him. He wondered briefly how long his conversation with DEATH had lasted. Dog was licking his face. And by the looks of Dog’s face, Adam’s face was fairly bloodied. Pepper was crying. Wensleydale and Brian were standing very closely together and both wore similar looks of concern. But the loudest noise was coming from a few feet away where Adam could clearly hear a supernaturally heated argument brewing.
Adam pushed himself up into a seated position so he could better see what was happening. Pepper had stopped crying and had put her arms around his shoulders. Brian and Wensleydale had sat down on the ground next to Adam. Dog was now licking the blood from his chops with a bit too much relish. No one else was watching. No one else had even noticed the accident. And now, no one seemed to be bothered by the upended Bentley or the two decreasingly man-shaped beings yelling in the middle of the street.
Adam couldn’t make out the particulars but phrases like “no value for human life,” “driving safety,” and “practical joke,” were hurled back and forth between the two. His head was still pounding. But he could begin to see a faint shimmery outline of brilliant white wings behind Aziraphale while something similarly shaped but dark and hazy was protruding from Crowley’s back. Then Crowley charged Aziraphale, knocking him onto his back.
Adam felt like the earth beneath him was beginning to shake. This was his fault. He knew it. He looked at the Them’s frightened faces. Then he looked back at the indistinct whirlwind of dust and rain and wings and power. With all the resolve he could muster, he stood up and limped towards Aziraphale and Crowley.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay,” he said. It sounded comical and completely out of place. But it was enough to stop the two from fighting long enough to regard him.
Then he limped back to the Them and Dog.
“We better go.”
“Are you going to put things back the way they were?” Wensleydale ventured.
“Nah, this is the way they were. But I don’t think I should be meddling with those two again. They’re going to have to resolve this on their own,” Adam replied.
Aziraphale and Crowley had resumed their yelling match but their wings were no longer visible and the intensity of the overall fight had decreased. Neither one noticed when four teenagers and a dog simply vanished from the street.
~~7~~
“Do you really think he’ll give up meddling?” Brian asked as he climbed into Wensleydale’s mother’s van.
“I’d like to think he learned something from all of this. So yes, I do think he may give up meddling, at least for a while,” Wensleydale answered, smiling. “Buckle up.”
“Wens, how did you get Crowley to tell you about Aziraphale?” Brian asked as he grudgingly fastened his seat belt.
“I asked him directly. I pouted. And then I told him that I might be gay.”
“Yeah, I thought as much.”
“You did?”
“Well, sure. That’s how Aziraphale opened up to me, too. He thought I was gay.”
“But that’s different. Did you mean for him to think that?”
“No, not at first. But when I realized that he did think that and that it was working, I didn’t mind.”
“That’s still different, Brian.”
“How is it different? I am gay, you know. At least I think I am.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you say anything before?”
“I dunno. But Adam’s not the only one who learned something from walking around in 1926. I’m not going to have a missed opportunity.”
Wensleydale gulped. Brian looked hopeful.
“So, do you want to go do something?”
“You mean like a date? Right now?”
“Yeah. Yeah to both.”
“Okay, then.”
~~8~~
Adam had certainly learned a few lessons from his most recent adventure. Though he would have been the first to admit such, he was rather busy being thoroughly snogged by Pepper, who had decided to keep her short new do.
~~9~~
Crowley had no memory of what had initially motivated him to get into his Bentley. If he had thought about it, he might have guessed that he had some tempting to do at a couple of the dodgier mortgage companies in town. But for no apparent reason, he realized quite suddenly that he and the angel had some unfinished business. He gripped his steering wheel tightly, feeling sharp claws beginning to tear through the flesh of his fingers. The closer he got to Soho, the more he hissed.
~~10~~
Aziraphale was growing more and more distracted. He was now moving and restacking a shelf of early edition Bibles for the eighth consecutive time, without gloves. No one dared to come into his shop. If they had, they might have heard the agitated bookkeeper muttering under his breath, “unfinished business” and “those meddling kids.”
When Aziraphale heard the Bentley pull up in front of the shop, his wings whipped out and his eyes burned so brightly that he could have easily charred some of his precious books. He stood waiting for Crowley in the middle of the shop, growling.
Crowley, who barely had enough forethought to remove his new leather jacket before his own wings ripped out, barged into the shop. He’d purposefully left his sunglasses in the car so that the Aziraphale would feel the full impact of his blazing yellow-orange eyes.
“Angel, you owe me. I’m here to collect,” he hissed.
Aziraphale didn’t allow Crowley to take more than four steps into the shop before he jumped him, knocking him to the floor. Before Crowley could even catch his breath, Aziraphale straddled his waist and gripped his throat tightly with his hands.
“The hell you are,” he whispered as he leaned down into Crowley’s face. Though his grip was tight and menacing, the tongue that traced along Crowley’s jaw was hungry and inviting.
Aziraphale waited, neither loosening his grip nor removing his tongue, for Crowley to recognize the choice he was presented with. It was several torturously long seconds before Aziraphale felt Crowley begin to relax. Then he felt Crowley’s sharp claws retract.
“That’s it, my dear,” Aziraphale said as he moved his tongue further along Crowley’s jaw, tracing the smooth angular path from neck to ear.
Crowley hissed and writhed beneath Aziraphale. However, Aziraphale, even in his lust-induced haziness, could interpret Crowley’s sibilant language.
“Why, yes, I’d love to go for a ride,” he answered as his mouth closed over Crowley’s. Then he kissed him.
And though it was more than 80 years (and several hours) late, Crowley did take Aziraphale for that ride in the Bentley.
~~fin~~