Good Omens: Random Gen one parter.
And then, of course, it had seemed even natural that they should, as it were, hold the fort for one another whenever common sense dictated. Both were of angel stock, after all. If one was going to Hull for a quick temptation, it made sense to nip across the city and carry out a standard brief moment of divine ecstasy. It'd get done anyway, and being sensible about it gave everyone more free time and cut down on expenses.
And all I have to say is Oh yeah?
===
"Crowley? What are you doing?"
Crowley's hands dropped to his sides. Resisting the urge to look at his feet, he said, "Giving him," he gestured at the man lying prostrate on the floor in front of them, "some divine ecstasy."
"I can see that," Aziraphale said. "Why?"
Crowley decided to compromise and look at the angel's feet, instead. He mumbled his reply.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Practising."
Aziraphale's silence filled the bookshop.
"Well, you remember last week, I went to Birmingham?"
"Mmm."
"For a conference. I fixed the heating and ventilation systems." Crowley allowed himself a small grin at the memory of the first speaker's frantic attempts to operate the electric windows, his fingers skittering against the keypad as the sweat patches under his arms spread.
The angel made further noncommittal noises.
"And you said, 'Oh, do be a dear and finish off my quota for the week,' so you could do something boring in great detail."
"Get some more cataloguing done. It was very useful, thank you. And then you mumbled something you refused to repeat."
"Yes, well, I went to Birmingham - stupid city, I don't know why your lot haven't done that fascinating rain of molten rock thing on it yet -"
"You know perfectly well we don't do that sort of thing anymore. Much." Aziraphale had the grace to look uncomfortable. "And I'm almost certain that wasn't officially sanctioned."
"Anyway, I was sure I'd put your list in my Palm Pilot."
"Palm...?"
Crowley waved his arms around vaguely. "Very small computer. Like a diary. Electronic. 'Snot the point. I was sure I had your list."
At some point during the conversation, Aziraphale's arms had folded across his chest. Had the man on the floor been in any position to observe the conversation taking place above him, he might have been forgiven for assuming the tweed-wearing gentleman to his left to be about as threatening as the proverbial moist paper towel. Crowley, however, with the benefit of six thousand-odd years' worth of experience of seemingly non-threatening yet angry men - that utter bastard Gadhi, for example - with particular reference to that being in front of him, was rather more worried.
"Look, I was going to do it. I even finished off early so I could get it done and drive back while there were still people on the road."
"Is this where you would say that you sense a 'but' coming on?"
Crowley glowered. He wasn't going to be made to feel guilty by some tweed clad bastard so lazy he farmed out his own divine tasks. He really wasn't going to be made to feel guilty by some- Oh, Hell. "Igotthewrongchurch."
He knew the angel had heard him. He knew. However, he wasn't in the least surprised to hear Aziraphale say "I'm terribly sorry, I didn't quite catch that."
He couldn't just be sorry, could he? No, he had to be terribly sorry. Bastard. "I. Got. The. Wrong. Church."
"Ah."
"Yes."
"Church, did you say?"
"Yes."
"Not synagogue?"
"No."
"Church."
"Yes."
"Ah."
And then Aziraphale tutted. Great men have crumbled at less, but Crowley prides himself on not being a great man on at least two counts. Still, the effort of will it took him not to kick the body in front of him and storm out is worth a mention.
There was a pause.
"Crowley." Here it comes... "Why did that make you need to practise your divine ecstasy?"
"Because -" Crowley's teeth ground audibly. "- they weren't expecting it."
His companion blinked. "Do people, uh, often expect divine ecstasy?"
"No."
There was another pause.
Crowley cracked first. "But they don't often have the presence of mind to start waving holy water around the place."
"Ah."
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
He really was sorry, too. Bastard.
"I really am sorry. Don't worry about the paperwork - I'll just tell them that I didn't deem the synagogue sufficiently worthy of divine interference. They're big on snobbery Up There." Aziraphale sniffed. Another thought appeared to occur to him. "But Crowley?"
"Yes?"
"You still haven't explained why you were practising divine ecstasy."
Crowley shrugged. "Long range. Get them twitching before they get close enough to mess up my suit."
"Ah. And in my bookshop?"
"Didn't think I'd get caught."
As always, it was worth it for the look on the angel's face.
==Fin==
And all I have to say is Oh yeah?
===
"Crowley? What are you doing?"
Crowley's hands dropped to his sides. Resisting the urge to look at his feet, he said, "Giving him," he gestured at the man lying prostrate on the floor in front of them, "some divine ecstasy."
"I can see that," Aziraphale said. "Why?"
Crowley decided to compromise and look at the angel's feet, instead. He mumbled his reply.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Practising."
Aziraphale's silence filled the bookshop.
"Well, you remember last week, I went to Birmingham?"
"Mmm."
"For a conference. I fixed the heating and ventilation systems." Crowley allowed himself a small grin at the memory of the first speaker's frantic attempts to operate the electric windows, his fingers skittering against the keypad as the sweat patches under his arms spread.
The angel made further noncommittal noises.
"And you said, 'Oh, do be a dear and finish off my quota for the week,' so you could do something boring in great detail."
"Get some more cataloguing done. It was very useful, thank you. And then you mumbled something you refused to repeat."
"Yes, well, I went to Birmingham - stupid city, I don't know why your lot haven't done that fascinating rain of molten rock thing on it yet -"
"You know perfectly well we don't do that sort of thing anymore. Much." Aziraphale had the grace to look uncomfortable. "And I'm almost certain that wasn't officially sanctioned."
"Anyway, I was sure I'd put your list in my Palm Pilot."
"Palm...?"
Crowley waved his arms around vaguely. "Very small computer. Like a diary. Electronic. 'Snot the point. I was sure I had your list."
At some point during the conversation, Aziraphale's arms had folded across his chest. Had the man on the floor been in any position to observe the conversation taking place above him, he might have been forgiven for assuming the tweed-wearing gentleman to his left to be about as threatening as the proverbial moist paper towel. Crowley, however, with the benefit of six thousand-odd years' worth of experience of seemingly non-threatening yet angry men - that utter bastard Gadhi, for example - with particular reference to that being in front of him, was rather more worried.
"Look, I was going to do it. I even finished off early so I could get it done and drive back while there were still people on the road."
"Is this where you would say that you sense a 'but' coming on?"
Crowley glowered. He wasn't going to be made to feel guilty by some tweed clad bastard so lazy he farmed out his own divine tasks. He really wasn't going to be made to feel guilty by some- Oh, Hell. "Igotthewrongchurch."
He knew the angel had heard him. He knew. However, he wasn't in the least surprised to hear Aziraphale say "I'm terribly sorry, I didn't quite catch that."
He couldn't just be sorry, could he? No, he had to be terribly sorry. Bastard. "I. Got. The. Wrong. Church."
"Ah."
"Yes."
"Church, did you say?"
"Yes."
"Not synagogue?"
"No."
"Church."
"Yes."
"Ah."
And then Aziraphale tutted. Great men have crumbled at less, but Crowley prides himself on not being a great man on at least two counts. Still, the effort of will it took him not to kick the body in front of him and storm out is worth a mention.
There was a pause.
"Crowley." Here it comes... "Why did that make you need to practise your divine ecstasy?"
"Because -" Crowley's teeth ground audibly. "- they weren't expecting it."
His companion blinked. "Do people, uh, often expect divine ecstasy?"
"No."
There was another pause.
Crowley cracked first. "But they don't often have the presence of mind to start waving holy water around the place."
"Ah."
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
He really was sorry, too. Bastard.
"I really am sorry. Don't worry about the paperwork - I'll just tell them that I didn't deem the synagogue sufficiently worthy of divine interference. They're big on snobbery Up There." Aziraphale sniffed. Another thought appeared to occur to him. "But Crowley?"
"Yes?"
"You still haven't explained why you were practising divine ecstasy."
Crowley shrugged. "Long range. Get them twitching before they get close enough to mess up my suit."
"Ah. And in my bookshop?"
"Didn't think I'd get caught."
As always, it was worth it for the look on the angel's face.
==Fin==