Happy Holidays, lazy_as_a_cat!
Title: The Company of Others
Gift for: lazy_as_a_cat
Gift from: lady_match
Rating: G
Characters: Aziraphale and Crowley, also the ducks play a somewhat important part. There is mention of other demons, and archangels.
Warnings: None
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley discuss the reasons why they enjoy the company of the 'enemy' far better than others of their kind.
A/N: lazy_as_a_cat I do hope that you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy Holidays!
"Let me ask you something," Crowley began, sitting down the tiny cup of Italian Espresso that he'd just taken a sip from back down on the table. He looked over at the angel sitting across from him. They were at a café in London, sitting outside underneath a maroon awning with gold lettering that said Carmine's in barely readable italic writing. Using his forefinger he pushed his sunglasses back up into their normal position, and leaned back in the less than comfortable metal chair.
"Hmm?" Aziraphale looked up from the newspaper he'd been reading, his brow slightly furrowed as he waited on the demon to continue.
"Why is it that you don't hang around other angels?" Crowley asked as he put a hand on the table. He drummed his fingers lightly on the metal top, looking over as a couple passed them and slipped inside the café.
Aziraphale's brows drew together, making the angel look like he had a unibrow. "Well, I…" He shook his head, a sheepish expression crossing his features. A red tinge crept up into his cheeks, and he let out an exasperated sigh. A hand came up, fluttering about his face. "It doesn't really matter, now does it?" He let out a slightly nervous laugh which earned a raised brow from Crowley.
"Oh no, now it does matter." One side of Crowley's lips lifted up into a half smirk. "With an answer and expression like that it does." Crowley continued to drum his fingers on the table, watching the angel closely.
Aziraphale waved his hand again, bringing it close to his fur collar and shook his head. "No, it really doesn't matter. There's no reason I don't hang around other angels or vice versa." He lifted a shoulder, looking back down at his paper as he began fiddling with his collar, letting the soft fur run through his fingers.
Crowley didn't believe that for one second. "Right, I bet you're the laughing stock aren't you?" He leaned forward, trying to goad the angel into talking about it. "All because you lost your sword, isn't it?"
"I didn't lose it!" The angel said urgently, a hint of annoyance playing in the tone of his voice. "I…gave it as a parting gift. They looked oh so pitiful." A look of sadness crossed his features, and he shook his head. He gave a look to Crowley, "And why is it so important that you know anyway? Why do you hang around an angel?" He picked up his cup of tea and took a sip. Sitting it back down with a slight clink against the china of the saucer, he raised an expectant brow at Crowley.
Crowley rolled his eyes behind his dark tinted sunglasses, "I'll tell you if you tell me." He replied simply before he picked up the small cup and taking a sip of the bitter liquid. Licking his lips he sat the small cup back down, and raised a brow over his glasses at the angel.
Aziraphale was awfully tempted by this suggestion, Crowley could tell by the slight narrowing of his eyes and the twitch of one of his eyebrows.
Letting out another dramatic sigh, the angel looked up at the demon. "My dear, what makes you think that I'll tell you…?" He twitched, and sighed once again. "Fine, you tell yours then I'll tell mine." He rolled his eyes, and went to inspecting his fingernails as if he was bored by the whole thing.
"No, you first."
"We've already done this once, about five years ago. I went first that time, it's your turn."
Of course Aziraphale was referring to the time they named off the political leaders on each side.
"Alright, fine." Crowley saw his point though, and began talking.
"One," Crowley began holding up a finger, "They are dreadfully boring gits. Two, they are gits. Three, they think so small, not on a large scale which is just stupid if you ask me. Four, I just prefer the company of others, especially my plants, as opposed to the lot of them." He shook his head, dropping his hand and drumming his fingers on the table. "Your go."
"That's…" Aziraphale let out a groan as he leaned back into his chair. He thought for a moment, eyes scanning over the table. And just about when Crowley thought he wouldn't tell him, Aziraphale started speaking.
"I'm not the laughing stock. They all think what I did was admirable." The red tinge reappeared in his cheeks as he placed his elbow on the table. Leaning forward he cupped his cheek in his hand, cradling his face as he continued talking. "I find them boring as well." He admitted, avoiding eye contact with the demon. "All they ever do is talk about is the Light of God, and so on. Michael goes on about holy wars, like he has something big and great to do with them. Which, by the way he does not. He'll make an appearance occasionally and not get his hands dirty. Raphael is on about the hospitals, and what should be done instead of actually helping people. All Gabriel does is play that blessed trumpet, and if I hear it one more time I swear I'll shove it down his throat." The angel blushed deeper, and cleared his throat much to the amusement of Crowley.
Crowley chuckled, deep in the back of his throat as he leaned back in his chair. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop again, "That boring, yeah?"
"Yes, it is that boring." Aziraphale groaned again, and rolled his eyes. "It's dreadful, really, when we have our meetings. No talk of culture, books, anything important." He murmured, and then pulled his cheek from his hand, waving it about. He made a sound in the back of his throat, "Not that I'm complaining really. We do talk about important things." His brow furrowed a little, and he held up a finger. "Last time we all were together, we did talk about the 'would have' been end of the world."
"Yeah? How'd that go?"
Aziraphale nodded, his face taking on a somewhat uncomfortable look. "It was fine, really. They played it off as if nothing had happened. As usual." He lifted a shoulder, looking out to the street for a moment before standing.
"Oh, I see." Crowley shook his head, and stood as well. "St. James' Park then?"
Aziraphale nodded again, straightening his coat and laying down a tip on the table. "Yes, I suppose the ducks are hungry." He said, lips drawn into a thin line.
"Look at it this way," Crowley started, opening the door to his latest car, which happened to be another Bentley.
"Hmm?" Aziraphale looked up over the roof of the car at Crowley, hand on the handle waiting to open the door.
"The whole lot of Heaven and Hell is boring, 'cept for us of course." He gave a wicked grin to the angel before slipping into his car.
The two of them made it to St. James' Park; Aziraphale telling Crowley to slow down, and to watch out for pedestrians. They were met by quacking ducks once they reached the pond, who thought that the two men were rather late, and being rather selfish.
Gift for: lazy_as_a_cat
Gift from: lady_match
Rating: G
Characters: Aziraphale and Crowley, also the ducks play a somewhat important part. There is mention of other demons, and archangels.
Warnings: None
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley discuss the reasons why they enjoy the company of the 'enemy' far better than others of their kind.
A/N: lazy_as_a_cat I do hope that you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy Holidays!
"Let me ask you something," Crowley began, sitting down the tiny cup of Italian Espresso that he'd just taken a sip from back down on the table. He looked over at the angel sitting across from him. They were at a café in London, sitting outside underneath a maroon awning with gold lettering that said Carmine's in barely readable italic writing. Using his forefinger he pushed his sunglasses back up into their normal position, and leaned back in the less than comfortable metal chair.
"Hmm?" Aziraphale looked up from the newspaper he'd been reading, his brow slightly furrowed as he waited on the demon to continue.
"Why is it that you don't hang around other angels?" Crowley asked as he put a hand on the table. He drummed his fingers lightly on the metal top, looking over as a couple passed them and slipped inside the café.
Aziraphale's brows drew together, making the angel look like he had a unibrow. "Well, I…" He shook his head, a sheepish expression crossing his features. A red tinge crept up into his cheeks, and he let out an exasperated sigh. A hand came up, fluttering about his face. "It doesn't really matter, now does it?" He let out a slightly nervous laugh which earned a raised brow from Crowley.
"Oh no, now it does matter." One side of Crowley's lips lifted up into a half smirk. "With an answer and expression like that it does." Crowley continued to drum his fingers on the table, watching the angel closely.
Aziraphale waved his hand again, bringing it close to his fur collar and shook his head. "No, it really doesn't matter. There's no reason I don't hang around other angels or vice versa." He lifted a shoulder, looking back down at his paper as he began fiddling with his collar, letting the soft fur run through his fingers.
Crowley didn't believe that for one second. "Right, I bet you're the laughing stock aren't you?" He leaned forward, trying to goad the angel into talking about it. "All because you lost your sword, isn't it?"
"I didn't lose it!" The angel said urgently, a hint of annoyance playing in the tone of his voice. "I…gave it as a parting gift. They looked oh so pitiful." A look of sadness crossed his features, and he shook his head. He gave a look to Crowley, "And why is it so important that you know anyway? Why do you hang around an angel?" He picked up his cup of tea and took a sip. Sitting it back down with a slight clink against the china of the saucer, he raised an expectant brow at Crowley.
Crowley rolled his eyes behind his dark tinted sunglasses, "I'll tell you if you tell me." He replied simply before he picked up the small cup and taking a sip of the bitter liquid. Licking his lips he sat the small cup back down, and raised a brow over his glasses at the angel.
Aziraphale was awfully tempted by this suggestion, Crowley could tell by the slight narrowing of his eyes and the twitch of one of his eyebrows.
Letting out another dramatic sigh, the angel looked up at the demon. "My dear, what makes you think that I'll tell you…?" He twitched, and sighed once again. "Fine, you tell yours then I'll tell mine." He rolled his eyes, and went to inspecting his fingernails as if he was bored by the whole thing.
"No, you first."
"We've already done this once, about five years ago. I went first that time, it's your turn."
Of course Aziraphale was referring to the time they named off the political leaders on each side.
"Alright, fine." Crowley saw his point though, and began talking.
"One," Crowley began holding up a finger, "They are dreadfully boring gits. Two, they are gits. Three, they think so small, not on a large scale which is just stupid if you ask me. Four, I just prefer the company of others, especially my plants, as opposed to the lot of them." He shook his head, dropping his hand and drumming his fingers on the table. "Your go."
"That's…" Aziraphale let out a groan as he leaned back into his chair. He thought for a moment, eyes scanning over the table. And just about when Crowley thought he wouldn't tell him, Aziraphale started speaking.
"I'm not the laughing stock. They all think what I did was admirable." The red tinge reappeared in his cheeks as he placed his elbow on the table. Leaning forward he cupped his cheek in his hand, cradling his face as he continued talking. "I find them boring as well." He admitted, avoiding eye contact with the demon. "All they ever do is talk about is the Light of God, and so on. Michael goes on about holy wars, like he has something big and great to do with them. Which, by the way he does not. He'll make an appearance occasionally and not get his hands dirty. Raphael is on about the hospitals, and what should be done instead of actually helping people. All Gabriel does is play that blessed trumpet, and if I hear it one more time I swear I'll shove it down his throat." The angel blushed deeper, and cleared his throat much to the amusement of Crowley.
Crowley chuckled, deep in the back of his throat as he leaned back in his chair. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop again, "That boring, yeah?"
"Yes, it is that boring." Aziraphale groaned again, and rolled his eyes. "It's dreadful, really, when we have our meetings. No talk of culture, books, anything important." He murmured, and then pulled his cheek from his hand, waving it about. He made a sound in the back of his throat, "Not that I'm complaining really. We do talk about important things." His brow furrowed a little, and he held up a finger. "Last time we all were together, we did talk about the 'would have' been end of the world."
"Yeah? How'd that go?"
Aziraphale nodded, his face taking on a somewhat uncomfortable look. "It was fine, really. They played it off as if nothing had happened. As usual." He lifted a shoulder, looking out to the street for a moment before standing.
"Oh, I see." Crowley shook his head, and stood as well. "St. James' Park then?"
Aziraphale nodded again, straightening his coat and laying down a tip on the table. "Yes, I suppose the ducks are hungry." He said, lips drawn into a thin line.
"Look at it this way," Crowley started, opening the door to his latest car, which happened to be another Bentley.
"Hmm?" Aziraphale looked up over the roof of the car at Crowley, hand on the handle waiting to open the door.
"The whole lot of Heaven and Hell is boring, 'cept for us of course." He gave a wicked grin to the angel before slipping into his car.
The two of them made it to St. James' Park; Aziraphale telling Crowley to slow down, and to watch out for pedestrians. They were met by quacking ducks once they reached the pond, who thought that the two men were rather late, and being rather selfish.