Twelve Months - August
Title: Twelve Months
By: musegaarid & _serpensortia
Rating: PG-13
Notes: The previous chapters are here... February, March, April, May, June, July
Having made his decision, Gabriel looked for Crowley every once in a while, hoping to catch him at home, but the demon seemed to spend his every moment out in seedy nightclubs doing who knew what. After several weeks of uneasy suspense, the angel realized he was going to have to track him down in one of those places to explain...
It was called Alexandria and Gabriel felt very self-conscious and out-of-place as he showed his identification and went inside. It was as if he were walking into a wall of noise. The atmosphere was smoky with brightly coloured lights that split the darkness like the sun breaking through clouds to shine through a stained glass window. In his conservative white buttoned shirt and charcoal slacks, the Messenger stood out amongst the legions of young men in leather trousers and what appeared to be black netting serving as a shirt. He could feel Crowley's presence nearby, but couldn't see him amidst the chaos, so the angel went to the bar.
"What'll it be?" the man behind the bar yelled.
There were no wine bottles on display behind the bar, so Gabriel didn't dare ask. "Gin and tonic."
The bartender nodded and made his drink. As he passed it over, the angel slid him a generous ten euro note before taking up the glass and heading further into the room.
He eventually found Crowley tucked into a slightly quieter velvet-lined corner booth in the back talking earnestly with an excitable young man with pinched features and an unfortunate tendency toward extravagant hand gestures. The young man noticed him standing there first.
"Oh, honey, I really hope you're over here to talk to me..."
Crowley looked up to see who he was talking to and started. "Gabriel?!"
The human actually pouted. "Figures. You get all the good ones, Anthony."
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. Crowley sighed.
"Gabriel, this is my friend, Pierre. Pierre, this is my, uh, accountant, Gabriel."
"Your 'uh, accountant'?" Pierre asked, looking Gabriel appreciatively up and down. "Uh huh. I need an 'uh, accountant' myself..."
The demon glared at him through dark lenses and Pierre threw his hands up. "Okay, okay, I'm going." With a knowing grin, the young man scooted out of the booth. "I'll go get more dirty martinis. I may be a while, so have fun."
Once he'd gone, Crowley ran a hand through his hair. "What are you doing here, angel?" he hissed.
Gabriel sat in the vacated space. "I need to talk to you, Crowley. But you haven't been at home in weeks."
"I wonder why," said the serpent dryly. "Did you consider that I might be avoiding you?"
"Yes," said the Messenger simply. "But this is important."
Crowley slumped against the padded backrest. "What is?"
Though Gabriel had thought about this moment a great deal, now that it had actually come time to tell Crowley the truth, he found it incredibly difficult. He'd expected to be in the demon's comfortable flat, not in a noisy club surrounded by gyrating, hedonistic sinners. He couldn't concentrate. Couldn't remember the words he'd so carefully chosen...
"C'mon, Gabriel," said the demon, crossing his arms protectively over his chest. "I don't have all night. What is it?"
He wished he could see Crowley's eyes; he couldn't read him like this, shuttered off and hiding amongst light and sound. "...I haven't been entirely honest with you," Gabriel managed.
Crowley gave a bitter laugh. "Really?"
The angel had always found that it was better to just get bad news over with quickly. The longer he waited, the harder it would be. So he tried to explain. "I had orders to encourage your advances. To... to lead you on. But it's not right and I refuse to do it any longer. It's not fair to either of us when I really don't have those kinds of feelings for you."
Gabriel had been talking softly to the table and Crowley had hardly heard a word amidst the din. The demon leaned forward. "WHAT?"
"I SAID I DON'T HAVE FEELINGS FOR YOU," Gabriel yelled back, frustrated on many levels.
Out of nowhere, Pierre set three martinis down on the table. "Way to be blunt about it, honey," he said, sitting in Crowley's lap. "I figured you were the one he's been pining over for who knows how long, but if you don't want him, that just means there's more for the rest of us." The human turned to talk to Crowley and smoothed his hair. "Poor baby. Why don't I console you back at my place...?"
The serpent was still and expressionless, though his sunglasses were trained in the archangel's direction. Gabriel squirmed under the intense silent gaze. "I, uh, just thought you should know," he said, feeling wretched. "...I'll go now." And he left, weaving his way carefully through the amassed dancers toward the door.
Crowley watched him leave, then unceremoniously dumped Pierre out of his lap. "What the fuck did you do that for?" he snarled.
"You like him a lot," insisted Pierre with a smile. "I can tell. So I was helping."
"Don't," the demon said, his anger suddenly falling off into sadness. "Just... don't." And he walked away without another word.
The young man shrugged as he pulled one of the martinis closer and fished out the olive. He had just been trying to give Gabriel something to think about... Oh, well. That was his good deed for the night. But right now, he had three drinks and a whole room full of pretty boys who might like one.
Pierre grinned.
September
By: musegaarid & _serpensortia
Rating: PG-13
Notes: The previous chapters are here... February, March, April, May, June, July
Having made his decision, Gabriel looked for Crowley every once in a while, hoping to catch him at home, but the demon seemed to spend his every moment out in seedy nightclubs doing who knew what. After several weeks of uneasy suspense, the angel realized he was going to have to track him down in one of those places to explain...
It was called Alexandria and Gabriel felt very self-conscious and out-of-place as he showed his identification and went inside. It was as if he were walking into a wall of noise. The atmosphere was smoky with brightly coloured lights that split the darkness like the sun breaking through clouds to shine through a stained glass window. In his conservative white buttoned shirt and charcoal slacks, the Messenger stood out amongst the legions of young men in leather trousers and what appeared to be black netting serving as a shirt. He could feel Crowley's presence nearby, but couldn't see him amidst the chaos, so the angel went to the bar.
"What'll it be?" the man behind the bar yelled.
There were no wine bottles on display behind the bar, so Gabriel didn't dare ask. "Gin and tonic."
The bartender nodded and made his drink. As he passed it over, the angel slid him a generous ten euro note before taking up the glass and heading further into the room.
He eventually found Crowley tucked into a slightly quieter velvet-lined corner booth in the back talking earnestly with an excitable young man with pinched features and an unfortunate tendency toward extravagant hand gestures. The young man noticed him standing there first.
"Oh, honey, I really hope you're over here to talk to me..."
Crowley looked up to see who he was talking to and started. "Gabriel?!"
The human actually pouted. "Figures. You get all the good ones, Anthony."
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. Crowley sighed.
"Gabriel, this is my friend, Pierre. Pierre, this is my, uh, accountant, Gabriel."
"Your 'uh, accountant'?" Pierre asked, looking Gabriel appreciatively up and down. "Uh huh. I need an 'uh, accountant' myself..."
The demon glared at him through dark lenses and Pierre threw his hands up. "Okay, okay, I'm going." With a knowing grin, the young man scooted out of the booth. "I'll go get more dirty martinis. I may be a while, so have fun."
Once he'd gone, Crowley ran a hand through his hair. "What are you doing here, angel?" he hissed.
Gabriel sat in the vacated space. "I need to talk to you, Crowley. But you haven't been at home in weeks."
"I wonder why," said the serpent dryly. "Did you consider that I might be avoiding you?"
"Yes," said the Messenger simply. "But this is important."
Crowley slumped against the padded backrest. "What is?"
Though Gabriel had thought about this moment a great deal, now that it had actually come time to tell Crowley the truth, he found it incredibly difficult. He'd expected to be in the demon's comfortable flat, not in a noisy club surrounded by gyrating, hedonistic sinners. He couldn't concentrate. Couldn't remember the words he'd so carefully chosen...
"C'mon, Gabriel," said the demon, crossing his arms protectively over his chest. "I don't have all night. What is it?"
He wished he could see Crowley's eyes; he couldn't read him like this, shuttered off and hiding amongst light and sound. "...I haven't been entirely honest with you," Gabriel managed.
Crowley gave a bitter laugh. "Really?"
The angel had always found that it was better to just get bad news over with quickly. The longer he waited, the harder it would be. So he tried to explain. "I had orders to encourage your advances. To... to lead you on. But it's not right and I refuse to do it any longer. It's not fair to either of us when I really don't have those kinds of feelings for you."
Gabriel had been talking softly to the table and Crowley had hardly heard a word amidst the din. The demon leaned forward. "WHAT?"
"I SAID I DON'T HAVE FEELINGS FOR YOU," Gabriel yelled back, frustrated on many levels.
Out of nowhere, Pierre set three martinis down on the table. "Way to be blunt about it, honey," he said, sitting in Crowley's lap. "I figured you were the one he's been pining over for who knows how long, but if you don't want him, that just means there's more for the rest of us." The human turned to talk to Crowley and smoothed his hair. "Poor baby. Why don't I console you back at my place...?"
The serpent was still and expressionless, though his sunglasses were trained in the archangel's direction. Gabriel squirmed under the intense silent gaze. "I, uh, just thought you should know," he said, feeling wretched. "...I'll go now." And he left, weaving his way carefully through the amassed dancers toward the door.
Crowley watched him leave, then unceremoniously dumped Pierre out of his lap. "What the fuck did you do that for?" he snarled.
"You like him a lot," insisted Pierre with a smile. "I can tell. So I was helping."
"Don't," the demon said, his anger suddenly falling off into sadness. "Just... don't." And he walked away without another word.
The young man shrugged as he pulled one of the martinis closer and fished out the olive. He had just been trying to give Gabriel something to think about... Oh, well. That was his good deed for the night. But right now, he had three drinks and a whole room full of pretty boys who might like one.
Pierre grinned.
September