Notes: Version 3 finally here. This has been MAJORLY revamped. It's got a new title and song, it's from Crowley's POV, there's more description, and things generally make more sense. ::nodnod:: It's still a rather OOC situation, but the characters are more IC in it. Revisions to the sequal coming soon!
Never want to fly
Never want to leave
Never want to say what you mean to me
Never want to run
Frightened to believe
You're the best thing about me
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Demons, as a rule, don't beg. Not for just anyone, at any rate. If superiors are involved they will bow, scrape, grovel, and worse, but the general public never gets to see a demon beg. When the general public gets to see a demon at all, that is.
It was undignified, for one thing. It's hard to be menacing and awe-inspiring when one is pleading on one's knees. Also there was generally always another way of getting what you wanted, usually one that involved a lot more pain. The causing of, of course, not the receiving.
In fact the only real point in begging, Crowley reasoned, was if you could do it to be really *really* annoying.*
"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Pretty pretty please?"
"No."
"Pretty please with sugar on top?"
"No."
"Please please please please?"
Aziraphale looked down at the pleading demon with no little discomfort. "For the last time Crowley, I see no point in going to this place with you."
Crowley grinned the grin that meant he was planning something. Wise men (and angels) fled at that grin. "Aw, come on. It will be fun. You'll enjoy it."
The demon had, for the last half hour or so, been sitting in the back room of Aziraphale's bookstore trying to persuade a certain reluctant angel to go to a club with him. So far, none of his tactics had worked. He had in the end resorted to begging, not because the angel had a particular weak point for people who begged, but because it was one of the most annoying things on earth. Or in Hell, for that matter. **
"No. I will not go to some seedy club simply for your enjoyment," said Aziraphale. Angels, once they put their foot down, were rather hard to budge. And Aziraphale had both feet planted firmly and was holding onto the nearest immovable object.
"Aww, why not?" Crowley pouted. It seemed to just go naturally with the begging.
"Because... because I don't dance!" Aziraphale blustered. It was quite obvious to Crowley that that had very little or nothing to do with it. The angel couldn't come up with a good reason not to go.
"But it's a couple place! I'd feel silly going in without a date," Crowley persisted. Aziraphale was weakening, he could feel it.
Aziraphale blushed scarlet at the mention of being a date. Crowley noted that angels looked remarkably adorable when they blushed. "Then you'll feel silly," Aziraphale said uncharitably.
"But what if they won't let me in? I'll miss the opening of the club, and it will be all your fault!"
"Crowley," Aziraphale said, sighing, "you could just as easily use your powers to get the guard to let you in, or even dematerialize and reform yourself on the inside of the club. You have no need of me at this place, so why on earth should I go?"
Because I want you to come with me, Crowley thought, though he'd be damned if he admitted it out loud. He'd been far to careful about not indulging his curiosity on the subject of What It Might Be Like To Be With Aziraphale to risk endangering their friendship by making the angel suspicious. Instead, he resorted to his earlier tactic.
"Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"Are you ever going to stop this?"
"Not unless you say yes."
"I have Heavenly patience you know."
"And my determination is Hellish. Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
And so it came to be that the two of them found themselves at Crowley's night club. It honestly didn't look very welcoming *or* wholesome. The entire thing was a spruced up excuse of a small cement warehouse. The only real illumination, aside from some red and blue lighting at the bar, was a fantastically bright strobe light that ruined any possible chance of night vision. Even Crowley was having a hard time adjusting to it. And it was not like you could rely on any of your other senses. The place was jam-packed, the press of bodies so thick that it was a miracle that anyone found enough room to dance at all, although the crowd did thin a bit during the slow dances. The music was loud enough that one couldn't even shout over it and be heard, although that didn't stop many people from trying. The place wasn't *quite* seedy, but it was bordering on it. All in all, Crowley thought, it was his sort of place.
He couldn't say the same thing for Aziraphale though. The angel, upon arrival, had gone straight to the bar and was still there, looking like he was doing his best to get himself completely drunk. It was unusual for the angel to do things like this on purpose. In fact, Crowley couldn't remember him getting drunk since after the End of the World that wasn't. He had a momentary pang of guilt for forcing the angel into this, but he quashed it. Demons didn't feel guilt.
Still... Crowley sighed and moved over to the bar, tapping Aziraphale on the shoulder. "DO YOU WANT TO DANCE?" he roared.
"WHAT?" yelled Aziraphale.
"I SAID, DO YOU WANT TO DANCE?" Crowley repeated.
"THERE AREN'T ANY MORE!" Aziraphale replied. Crowley decided that the angel must be more than a little drunk. Sighing, he took Aziraphale's hand and pulled him to his feet. The angel was going to dance with him whether he wanted to or not.
Aziraphale seemed rather startled at first, but got into the spirit of things quite quickly. Crowley wouldn't have thought the angel had it in him. Of course, he had no idea how much alcohol the angel had actually had, but whatever it was he should do it more often.
In the space of three dances, Aziraphale had gotten a vague idea of how the body was supposed to move, and was apparently doing his best to implement it. It looked jerky and awkward, but at least it showed absolutely no hinting of the angel's only other known dance step.
After the third dance was over the music changed, as it sometimes did, to a slow dance. Before the angel could protest or move to sit back down, Crowley stepped closer to him and caught him up in a dance position.
Aziraphale frowned as though puzzling out something, but didn't resist. In fact after a moment he went so far as to put his head on Crowely's shoulder.
The demon, for his part, barely dared to breathe. There was something about the angel that he had always found alluring. But of course, he had known better than to act on any impulse to move to a deeper relationship. His friendship with Aziraphale meant more to him than he'd ever admit to the angel. It was awfully lonely being on earth all by oneself, but Aziraphale's presence had made it tolerable. Crowley was a demon, and demons didn't have many friends.
And he'd be saved if he was going to lose that friendship now.
"A-Aziraphale," he tried, finding his throat mysteriously dry, "do you want to, um, sit down maybe? Or something?"
"Hm?" The angel lifted his head, leaning blearily toward Crowley. The demon didn't fail to notice that their noses were practically touching, or that any space between them had virtually disappeared, or that...
He's drunk. He's drunk, and he might not remember this. There's a chance that I could get away with it, if I'm careful. He might never know.
As slowly and inconspicuously as he could manage, Crowley leaned forward and gently kissed Aziraphale's lips.
As soon as he tried it, he knew that he wasn't going to get away with it. Aziraphale stiffened in shock, then pulled back, stepping backwards. The look of horror on his face would be enough to break Crowley's heart in two if he had had one.
After a moment, the demon realized that Aziraphale was chanting something under his breath. He couldn't hear the words over the music, but he could read lips well enough to know that Aziraphale was saying "no" over and over and over.
Flinching slightly, Crowley took a step towards the angel. It was the wrong move. Aziraphale turned and fled, heading towards the back door near the bar. It didn't seem commonly used, but was certainly conveniant enough if one had an overdose of alcohol and needed to purge it in the alleyway behind.
Crowley fought through the press of bodies, trying to catch up to Aziraphale. By the time that he remembered that he could have used his powers to clear a path he was already at the door.
He burst into the alley in time to feel the wind from the downsweep of Aziraphale's wings, and the angel was gone.
Somehow, Crowley didn't have the strength to go after him. He feared seeing once again the look of horror in Aziraphale's eyes, the disgust that he knew would be going through the angel's head.
Instead he went back into the club to drink a toast to their dearly departed friendship.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Never want to fly
Never want to leave
Never want to say what you mean to me
Never want to run
Frightened to believe
You're the best thing about me
** - The second most annoying thing in Hell was the high-pitched whine of the smoke detector that some wise-ass had installed around the time they were invented. Contrary to what you might think, it was not in fact going all the time. It was so clogged with sulfer that it generally lasted only about five minutes after someone cleaned it out, which happened about once every two years. The third most annoying thing in Hell was having to clean the smoke detector.
Okay guys, here's the deal. I'm thinking of maybe writing a sequal, but I'll only do it if you give me the feedback. I'm only going to write the sequal if I know people will read it, 'kay? So what do you think?
Oh God, that was hideous. Take me back.
or
Oh God, that was hideous. Let me complain to the author.