Twelve Months - September
Title: Twelve Months
By: musegaarid & _serpensortia
Rating: R for naughty language
Notes: The previous chapters are here... February, March, April, May, June, July, August
Gabriel was, in a word, bored. His work was no more or less challenging than it had been, and it remained fulfilling, but there was a faint dissatisfaction somewhere in his life. Some empty space that niggled at him.
A week after he'd last talked to Crowley in the club, he asked his second-in-command and sometime secretary Dobiel if she'd be interested in going out for a drink after work. She gave him an odd look and said she had a meeting scheduled with Remiel and Sariel that she needed to attend. Gabriel didn't ask again.
Two weeks after he'd last talked to Crowley in the club, he asked Raphael what his plans for the evening were. The Healer said he was attending a medical conference in Cairo and invited Gabriel along with a smile. The Messenger went, but after the third panel discussion over low-tech methods for properly stimulating the vagus nerve in order to circumvent attacks of supraventricular tachycardia, he made his excuses and left.
Three weeks after he'd last talked to Crowley in the club, he asked Michael if he'd like to have a chat. They spent an incredibly awkward hour together, Gabriel with a glass of Pinot Noir and Michael with water, though neither had much to say that wasn't directly related to their work.
Four weeks after he'd last talked to Crowley in the club, Gabriel realized that he was waiting for the demon to find him and suggest some kind of friendly outing. But it wasn't going to happen. No more going out for drinks. No more engrossing conversations where he couldn't predict what was going to be said next. No more surprises of any kind ever. He might not have had romantic feelings for Crowley, but he sort of... missed his company. On occasion.
So Gabriel tracked him down at the Ritz. The maitre d' looked rather shocked when the angel asked to sit with Crowley, but did as he was asked and led him cautiously over.
"Excuse me, sir, this gentleman is requesting to join you this evening...?"
Crowley looked up from the book he'd been quietly reading (some wretched piece of crap about chaste teenage vampires; he had to stay up-to-date on pop culture) and raised his eyebrows. Taking a moment to overcome his surprise, he eventually nodded and dismissed the human.
When the maitre d' had left and the demon finally spoke, his voice was all sharp angles and broken glass. "What the fuck do you want?"
Gabriel winced slightly at his tone. "I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing," he offered.
"You are so full of shit," snapped Crowley. "You made it perfectly clear that you don't give a damn about me."
"I never said..."
"No?" Crowley interrupted bitterly. "You said, and I quote, 'I don't have feelings for you'. Very loudly, I might add. How precisely was I supposed to interpret that, angel? Do tell me where I'm wrong. I long to know."
The archangel pulled out a chair and sat, as much to buy himself time to think as anything. "Perhaps I could have worded that better," he began and Crowley snorted darkly, "But I wanted you to know the truth. I didn't want to lead you on when neither of us has romantic feelings for the other. That doesn't mean I didn't enjoy the time we spent together, though."
Crowley's expression hardened. "Uh huh," he said sarcastically. "Well, I'm not buying it. Why are you really here?" He sat back in his chair looking thoughtful. "Oh, wait, I get it. You told Haniel that you fucked up his little plan and he's now pissed at you, so you have to try and get back on my good side. That's it, isn't it?"
"What? No! I haven't told Haniel yet..." It was difficult to meet the demon's eyes, even hidden as they were. He could easily imagine the cold expression they held.
"Damn it, Gabriel!" Crowley suddenly exclaimed, banging the table and startling the angel. "I'm not playing your games anymore."
Gabriel looked stricken. "Crowley, I'm not..."
"Don't even," snarled the serpent. "Don't you dare try to deny it. Oh, you played it very prettily, I'll give you that. Going out with me when I asked, pretending to reluctantly have a good time, even tracking me down in Italy and insisting I'd tracked you down instead. Then you put me off my guard by snogging that fag and acting all concerned about my feelings afterward, explaining that you were just doing your job and it meant nothing. Two months later, out of nowhere, you're telling me to sod off and now you want to be pals. You try to tell me that's not a game and I will fucking smack you, poncy archangel or no."
Pushing back from the table, Gabriel stood solemnly. There was really no way to reply that the demon would find at all satisfactory, so in an odd echo of their first encounter, he merely said, "Right. Well, thank you for your time, then. Good night, Crowley," and left, his expression grave.
When Gabriel reached the door, he paused to glance back at the demon. Crowley's head was resting on the table, buried in his arms; he looked utterly miserable and Gabriel didn't feel any better.
But what he did feel - for the first time in a month - was alive.
October
By: musegaarid & _serpensortia
Rating: R for naughty language
Notes: The previous chapters are here... February, March, April, May, June, July, August
Gabriel was, in a word, bored. His work was no more or less challenging than it had been, and it remained fulfilling, but there was a faint dissatisfaction somewhere in his life. Some empty space that niggled at him.
A week after he'd last talked to Crowley in the club, he asked his second-in-command and sometime secretary Dobiel if she'd be interested in going out for a drink after work. She gave him an odd look and said she had a meeting scheduled with Remiel and Sariel that she needed to attend. Gabriel didn't ask again.
Two weeks after he'd last talked to Crowley in the club, he asked Raphael what his plans for the evening were. The Healer said he was attending a medical conference in Cairo and invited Gabriel along with a smile. The Messenger went, but after the third panel discussion over low-tech methods for properly stimulating the vagus nerve in order to circumvent attacks of supraventricular tachycardia, he made his excuses and left.
Three weeks after he'd last talked to Crowley in the club, he asked Michael if he'd like to have a chat. They spent an incredibly awkward hour together, Gabriel with a glass of Pinot Noir and Michael with water, though neither had much to say that wasn't directly related to their work.
Four weeks after he'd last talked to Crowley in the club, Gabriel realized that he was waiting for the demon to find him and suggest some kind of friendly outing. But it wasn't going to happen. No more going out for drinks. No more engrossing conversations where he couldn't predict what was going to be said next. No more surprises of any kind ever. He might not have had romantic feelings for Crowley, but he sort of... missed his company. On occasion.
So Gabriel tracked him down at the Ritz. The maitre d' looked rather shocked when the angel asked to sit with Crowley, but did as he was asked and led him cautiously over.
"Excuse me, sir, this gentleman is requesting to join you this evening...?"
Crowley looked up from the book he'd been quietly reading (some wretched piece of crap about chaste teenage vampires; he had to stay up-to-date on pop culture) and raised his eyebrows. Taking a moment to overcome his surprise, he eventually nodded and dismissed the human.
When the maitre d' had left and the demon finally spoke, his voice was all sharp angles and broken glass. "What the fuck do you want?"
Gabriel winced slightly at his tone. "I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing," he offered.
"You are so full of shit," snapped Crowley. "You made it perfectly clear that you don't give a damn about me."
"I never said..."
"No?" Crowley interrupted bitterly. "You said, and I quote, 'I don't have feelings for you'. Very loudly, I might add. How precisely was I supposed to interpret that, angel? Do tell me where I'm wrong. I long to know."
The archangel pulled out a chair and sat, as much to buy himself time to think as anything. "Perhaps I could have worded that better," he began and Crowley snorted darkly, "But I wanted you to know the truth. I didn't want to lead you on when neither of us has romantic feelings for the other. That doesn't mean I didn't enjoy the time we spent together, though."
Crowley's expression hardened. "Uh huh," he said sarcastically. "Well, I'm not buying it. Why are you really here?" He sat back in his chair looking thoughtful. "Oh, wait, I get it. You told Haniel that you fucked up his little plan and he's now pissed at you, so you have to try and get back on my good side. That's it, isn't it?"
"What? No! I haven't told Haniel yet..." It was difficult to meet the demon's eyes, even hidden as they were. He could easily imagine the cold expression they held.
"Damn it, Gabriel!" Crowley suddenly exclaimed, banging the table and startling the angel. "I'm not playing your games anymore."
Gabriel looked stricken. "Crowley, I'm not..."
"Don't even," snarled the serpent. "Don't you dare try to deny it. Oh, you played it very prettily, I'll give you that. Going out with me when I asked, pretending to reluctantly have a good time, even tracking me down in Italy and insisting I'd tracked you down instead. Then you put me off my guard by snogging that fag and acting all concerned about my feelings afterward, explaining that you were just doing your job and it meant nothing. Two months later, out of nowhere, you're telling me to sod off and now you want to be pals. You try to tell me that's not a game and I will fucking smack you, poncy archangel or no."
Pushing back from the table, Gabriel stood solemnly. There was really no way to reply that the demon would find at all satisfactory, so in an odd echo of their first encounter, he merely said, "Right. Well, thank you for your time, then. Good night, Crowley," and left, his expression grave.
When Gabriel reached the door, he paused to glance back at the demon. Crowley's head was resting on the table, buried in his arms; he looked utterly miserable and Gabriel didn't feel any better.
But what he did feel - for the first time in a month - was alive.
October