[closed]

[nobebop]

WHO: Aziraphale [nobebop], Crowley [bentleyboytoy]
WHAT: The angel would like an explanation, thank you.
WHERE: Crowley's big, might-be-compensating-for-something house in the living district.
WHEN: Late afternoon.

Comments

[bentleyboytoy]

Crowley was, for once, dressed.

He's been freaking out. Wasn't that what humans did? Freak out? Flail their arms wildly, run about the room, raving madly and stress about one thing or the other that didn't really matter?

The only difference was that this did matter-- and of course, he knew full well that all the humans thought their problems mattered, too, but, really, he knew they were all wrong-- because he'd been friends with Aziraphale for this long and--

Was it true?

The second he heard Aziraphale approach, he jumped atop the bed, folding hands and feet and trying to look as composed as ever.

Didn't.

More than out of breath, he sat there and looked more or less panicked, eyes going everywhere in the hope of escape.

There wasn't one.

"What? I don't know what you're talking about," he said a bit meekly.

HA HA HA RIGHT.

[nobebop]

Over a thousand years of being on this Earth and amongst humans ought to teach Aziraphale not to take everything at face value. People, unfortunately, succumbed to temptation and lied. Rather unconvincingly. When Crowley proclaimed 'everything was OK', Aziraphale had half a mind to believe him. Believe him to the last degree.

Yet, human instinct told him something was off. Human instinct also told him to just accept the answer, because he still was not sure what to think about this 'confession'.

Sighing wearily, Aziraphale closed the book, and sat down on the bed, next to his friend.

"Already making enemies then?"

[bentleyboytoy]

The only reason the Angel had half the mind to believe him, was because he wanted to. Scared of what it meant otherwise, terrified of the circumstances, because then he'd have to deal with the results and figure out what any of it meant and what on earth they'd do about it now.

"What?" Crowley countered. "That boy is messed up in the head, although he did seem fairly nice. He needs a condom every time he masturbates and apparently he's running out and going looney. I think. I think-- ah, he's got a mix up there. I didn't say anything, I... wouldn't have said anything, I don't know where he gets his evidence from."

Crowley made a face.

If that didn't sound convincing, he didn't know what did.

[nobebop]

Oh, masturbation. Crowley's new obsession now that he drank out the pub down the street. Frankly, Aziraphale did not like talking about sex, or anything remotely related to it. He was an angel - human body or no - and it was his duty as an angel to remain chaste and pure. Whereas Crowley was supposed to frolic in the fields of debauchery and mayhem. (1)

"Mix up?" Aziraphale asked, staring at his worn sneakers. Crowley's own black, dress shoes could be seen out of the corner of his eye.

The demon. Always there, just out of sight.

"So...you fancy someone else?"

(1) Masturbation included.