A/N Yes, it's a day early for my real-time posting idea, but this is set in the morning, I guess, and I won't be able to post it tomorrow. awesomeness points for spotting some Sherlock references, and guessing where they're now living before I gave the actual street name. I'm completely obsessed with Bohemian Rhapsody at the moment and I'm pretty sure it was used in the book but sorry the whole chapter just fitted it nicely. I was planning on doing a separate fic with Crowley getting caught singing along to songs by Az but I might incorporate it into this...we'll see how it goes!
Anyway, I hope we all get saved once again by our ineffable boys tomorrow, good luck!
Crowley sat cross-legged on the sofa, glaring into his tea.
"Oh, what's wrong now?" Aziraphale asked, joining him on the sofa, clutching his own mug. "I thought you'd like to live together. And we moved your plants here from your old flat and everything."
"You inssssissst on paying rent, and we can't afford the heating bill and it'sss bloody freezing." He grumbled, sipping his tea.
Aziraphale rolled his eyes.
"Crowley, calm down. You're hissing and your scales are showing." He said, rubbing Crowley's scaly hand affectionately.
"Sssorry." He muttered. He paused, took some deep breaths and waited for his scales to disappear again, before saying, managing not to hiss: "You know, I think that's why you don't seem as cold. I'm still cold blooded, sort of. And you're…not. Also, you're a lot more…plump than me."
"Plump?!" Aziraphale repeated, mouth wide open.
"You know what I mean." Crowley muttered, getting up and flourishing his hand at the fireplace. He glared up at the wall as he heard shots fired.
"Those neighbours of ours are fucking noisy." He grumbled.
"Our landlady, Mrs Turner, did mention it. Said it's her neighbour's lodgers." Aziraphale said, matter-of-factly.
Crowley nodded, not really listening.
Aziraphale sighed and turned on the television.
"Ohh, Songs of Praise!" He said, clapping excitedly.
"Oh, bloody hel- I mean, oh fuck, really?" Crowley grumbled. He got up and sauntered towards the door.
"Where are you going?"
"Car. It's got a heater. And Queen." He said, shrugging on his blazer and sunglasses before jogging down the stairs, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Aziraphale sighed and curled up on the sofa with his tea, singing along to this week's special Christmas episode.
Crowley huffed as he climbed into his Bentley. He turned on the ignition and the tape player, and turned up the heating as far as it would go. Then he drove away from Baker Street, towards the M25. He was feeling sentimental.
Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide
No escape from reality
Open your eyes
Look up to the skies and see…
Crowley glanced up at the rather average looking grey sky.
"Well, not too bad so far, as far as apocalypses go.." He muttered.
No it's not, is it, Crowley. Freddie Mercury sung. Crowley rolled his eyes.
I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy…
"Oh, hello Sir."
You just rolled your eyes at me, Crowley. I hope you're enjoying the chaos. We've made sure it all goes to plan this time. Got our best people on it.
"Oh, sorry Sir. I must have missed that memo." Crowley retorted. "And, Sir, you do realise nothing is happening up here, right?"
WHAT?
Thunderbolt and lightning - very, very frightening me
Crowley jumped slightly as Freddie Mercury yelled his abuse.
"Ah, sir, did you by any chance choose Hastur and Ligur to be the harbingers of doom this time around?"
…Maybe…
Crowley grinned.
Well, enjoy the rest of your life, Crowley. Til next time…
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me!
For me!
For me!
Crowley chuckled and turned the car around. Maybe he would just go and spend today with his Angel after all.
Reviews are loved as much as Aziraphale loves Crowley!