Happy holidays, Christycorr!

[linnpuzzle.livejournal.com]

Title: Scenes From An Italian Restaurant
Author: danakzsoul
Recipient: christycorr
Rating: soft R
Pairing: Crowley/Aziraphale
Summary: Scenes from the past and present interspersed.
Historical note: During the renaissance, Florence was largely considered to be the hotbed of homosexual activity, so much so that at the time, the German word for 'homosexual' was 'Florinzer'.
Disclaimer: Crowley and Aziraphale belong to messrs Gaiman and Pratchett.


"Crowley!" I thundered, brandishing a newspaper at him. "This is your doing!"

He favoured me with a look of practiced innocence, which had failed to fool me since its inception. Then he read the article and sighed, expression dropping.

"Really, Angel, you think I-- Well, honestly!"

"Don't go telling me it's not your style, it's exactly your style!"

"Aziraphale, I didn't choose the Pope. A former Nazi won out over two qualified clergymen because his skin is white and theirs is not, and mankind doesn't need my help doing that." He sighed again and removed his sunglasses just long enough to rub at his nosebridge.

"Well..." I dropped my paper-brandishing arm to my side, sheepish. "If that's the case, then I'm sorry for accusing you. It just-- wouldn't be the first time..."

"Oh, yeah. Huh." He grinned.

*****

"Crowley!" I thundered, brandishing the announcement at him. "This is your doing!"

He favoured me with a look of practiced innocence, which had failed to fool me since its inception. Upon seeing the utter lack of mollification, he turned it into a snakey grin.

"Yeah."

"You chose the Pope!"

"So? What do you care, they're just Catholics."

"Crowley, you just made the wickedest family in Italy into the most powerful!" I admonished.

"I know."

"You needn't look so pleased with yourself." I huffed.

"I am pleased with myself."

"You chose the Pope!"

"It's a pretty big accomplishment."

"You're a demon!"

"It's a very big accomplishment."

"I oughtn't even to speak to you. I really oughtn't."

"So don't."

"Crowley!"

"What?" He sighed. "I'm sorry, was I supposed to care? Look, Angel--"

"Don't call me that." I crossed my arms.

"Fine. Aziraphale. I don't see what you're getting so worked up over."

"Worked up over? Worked up over? YOU CHOSE THE POPE!"

"Don't screech, Az, people will look at us." Crowley said calmly, taking a sip of his wine.

I dragged him out of the restaurant and into an empty alley, where I screeched at him some more.

"Do you know what you've done? By putting that man in charge of the Holy Roman Empire? How you may have affected the whole course of human history from now on?"

"He wanted it. I figure, the title of Pope should go to a guy who wants it."

"He's a power-hungry despot! The whole family is just-- just-- Scheming, and political, and-- using that poor girl..."

"Marrying her off to improve the clan's station? It's nothing new, Angel. That's the way the world works, and you know it. And don't worry about Lucretia, she can take care of herself."

"I can't believe you chose the Pope. I never should have let you alone in Rome."

"Mm." He took another sip of wine, which was odd, as he had dropped the glass when I yanked him away from his table, but then again, he is a demon. "I didn't know you were even in Italy."

"I wasn't. Until I read about this and knew I'd find you here. Stirring up trouble."

"Trouble." He said. "Is my middle name."

"Honestly." I sighed.

"Antonio Trouble Crowley."

"Antonio?"

"It's jaunty." He said. "I like it."

"Antonio Trouble Crowley..."

*****

"Keeping our past in mind, you can hardly blame me if I suspected-- Well, I'm sorry. But you must admit, dear, you have a history of messing with the church."

"Forget it." He smiled at me. It wasn't the reptilian predatory smile, nor was it sarcastic or nasty. It was just a smile. "Do you want to do lunch?"

"I have books to go through..."

"Come on, Angel..."

"I'm sorry, Crowley, but I've just had a shipment in, and they need seeing to."

"Well... mind if I come with?"

I paused to consider. Normally if I'm trying to get anything done, Crowley is every inch a pest until I give up, and yet... Smiles like this one on the face of a demon are so rare. Genuine, and... seeking?

"All right, but if you can't let me work, you're just going to have to leave."

"I'll let you work."

He drove me back to the shop and perched on the counter while I sorted through the boxes of books I'd just got in from various other dealers.

"I'm not used to you being so quiet, dear. It's almost frightening."

"I love frightening." Crowley grinned. "How about I offer to be helpful and really scare you?"

"Thanks but no thanks." I sighed, smiling at him-- I couldn't help it! "I have a complicated system."

"I thought your system was that you had no system."

"My system merely makes it look as though I have no system." I informed him, hovering to put a book on a high shelf.

"When I use my powers to do mundane things, you cluck at me."

"Yes, but if I don't keep a ladder in the shop, then no one who hasn't got supernatural powers can reach the books I most want to keep." I shrugged. "It's sneaky, but..."

"I knew you had it in you." He hopped down from the counter and slung an arm around my neck in a display of boisterous camaraderie.

"Really, my dear..."

"What's this?" He plucked a book off the shelf.

"Hmph, you would go for that one."

"Nah." He put it back. "I've read it."

*****

"Setting up shop in town?" Crowley slid into the seat across from me.

"How can you tell?"

"Well, for starters, you're in town." He rolled his eyes. "And, mystery of mysteries, a book shop's just opened up that keeps very irregular hours."

I nodded. "I figured you needed supervision."

"Supervision." He snorted. "Thwarting, you mean."

"Well, it all comes down to the same thing." I shrugged.

"Here, my contribution to getting you established." He slid a book across the table to me.

"'The Prince'... Is it a fairy story?"

"No, it's a political guide."

"Hm. Well, I suppose I ought to thank you..."

"The book's good. I mean, I thought so, you wouldn't like it. But you've got to have at least one book you can sell, you're always trying to keep them."
I smiled, caressing the cover. "Well, that's very... That's very thoughtful of you, Crowley."

"I met the man, you know." He produced a wineglass, filling it from my bottle.

"Oh, yes?"

"Disappointing." He shrugged. "I didn't expect him to be so... good."

"Well, people are basically good."

"Yes, but not people who give such good advice!"

"Really, my dear..."

*****

"Don't tell me it's the same copy. Couldn't you ever find a buyer?" He took 'The Prince' back off the shelf, thumbing through it until he came to the page he was looking for. "It is the same copy! Look, there, the doodle I made in the margin."

"I... thought I'd keep it." I turned away to busy myself in the box of new books-- well, by 'new', of course, I mean to the shop.

"Why? It's not your kind of thing at all."

"No, but... It was a gift."

"I said I didn't mind if you sold it."

"I know, but... I don't really expect to get gifts from you. So, when I do, I keep them." I explained.

"Aziraphale, that's very sentimental of you." Crowley grinned, sauntering over to stand behind me.

"Don't make fun, it isn't nice."

"I'm not nice. But I'm not making fun. Here, give me..." He took a first edition Dickens out of my hands, putting it on the shelf in exactly the right place. "See? Even being helpful."

"Yes..." I said, feeling very awash in a nameless and uncomfortable something-or-other at that moment. "I see..."

"So, sure I can't convince you to take lunch with me now?"

"No. No, I'm not sure at all."

*****

"Moving, Angel?"

"I don’t know." I sighed.

"Tired of thwarting me? Or just tired of Italy?"

"I just feel I need— It’s difficult to explain." I said, by way of apology. "But I feel I need a little distance and a little time to really think about things."

"Oh." Crowley didn’t smile. He didn’t frown exactly. His face just sort of existed for a moment without really knowing which expression to wear. "Well, let me buy you lunch first?"

"All right."

*****

"Do you ever feel—" I said, feeling somewhat very drunk. "I say, do you ever feel as though— Hang it all."

"Can’t say as I know what you’re getting at." Crowley shook his head, looking as inebriated as I felt.

"As though there’s nothing new under the sun." I decided. "And we’ve done and said it all before?"

"No. I don’t feel like that at all." Crowley said decisively. "I know there are things I haven’t said yet."

"Well, like what?" I demanded.

"It’s a good thing I’m drunk." Crowley muttered under his breath.

"No, you’ve said that before." I informed him.

"I mean-- I said, what I mean is-- If I wasn’t so utterly and completely pissed, I wouldn’t be saying it now."

"Saying what?"

"Saying this;" And he lunged across the table and kissed me.

It occurred to me, briefly, to mention that he still wasn’t saying something new, so much as performing an action which he had not previously performed. At the very least, it was something he’d never practiced on me.

But I didn’t mention, because he was kissing me, and it was gentle, and that more than anything surprised me. I haven’t the experience necessary to say as to whether or not it was a good kiss, but it was gentle— and that I never expected from Crowley.

I kissed him back.

*****

"Don't your lot think it's wrong, what they're doing?"

"I don't know." I looked away.

"It's kind of--"

"Crowley, give the men their privacy." I admonished.

"I thought you were leaving Italy." He said calmly, as though two men weren't deflowering each other no more than two metres from us. "Florence is in Italy."

"I changed my mind. Crowley, leave them alone."

"I just think it's interesting, that's all. I didn't know you could do that..."

*****

"How did we wind up like this?" He asked, between breathless pants.

"You got very, very drunk and kissed me."

"Oh. You probably should have stopped me."

"Yes, I probably should have. But I didn’t." I said, and removed his sunglasses.

"Az--"

"We’ve known each other for a very long time— We know each other better than anybody." I cupped his cheek. "We made it through the Apocalypse together—"

"The Apocalypse-that-wasn’t." He corrected.

"Be that as it may, we-- Maybe this has been a long time coming—"

"Maybe it has." He kissed me again, began opening my shirt.

"I’d be making love to you." I told him. "It wouldn’t be just a-- physical thing."

"No." He said gravely, and his eyes bored into mine. "It wouldn’t be. Not for me, either. I mean, don’t go telling anyone, Angel, but I’ve got it bad for you—"

"Oh, my dear, dear Crowley—"

"Hush—" He hissed, and his hands were on my naked skin.

I don’t remember making an effort, but I must have.

We tumbled into his bed, mussing perfect silk sheets into fantastic disarray as he kissed and touched me, and I held on and did my best to respond. It was terribly easy, and I’m sure it wasn’t meant to be, at least it shouldn’t have been, for me, but it was, and then it was Crowley mewling at my touch, sharp teeth sinking into my shoulder as he tried to muffle the sound. And then it was Crowley's hand, and his hands are always cold, only it wasn't, not at all, as he stroked me and sucked at my neck.

It was a singularly earthly sensation. Not the way food or drink or sitting before a warm fire please the corporeal form, though, for it was as much about the soul as the body. It was just something I’d never felt in Heaven. Of course, I’d been on earth for roughly six millenia, and I�d never felt anything like it here, either.

It was a singularly Crowley sensation, then, and I was happy to keep it that way.

Except for one little thing...

"Crowley, don’t—" I sighed.

"But I like it." He grinned wickedly up at me.

"Well, I’m tired."

"Sleep, then."

"— I don’t know, Crowley—"

"Sleep." He repeated.

"Well, I can’t sleep when you’re-- playing with-- portions of my anatomy!"

"I’m getting acquainted." He defended. "It’s the only part of you I’m not acquainted with."

"Well, leave it alone for now." I sighed. "You’ve got all of eternity to get acquainted with it."

"Have I got?"

"Yes." I sighed again, irritated.

"All of eternity, Az?" He whispered, and when I looked at him, the irritation melted.

"Yes, Crowley. All of eternity."

~FIN~

Comments

[prosodi.livejournal.com]

Oh, this? This is lovely. It's so soft and poignant and I got all giggly over the opening sentences in the first two bits. I love the little bits of history you wove through this and, bwuh. Squee. <3

[andremeese.livejournal.com]

Oh, SO adorable and wonderful and YES. And that last part? YOU LITTLE TEASE!

Still, beautifully done, Secret Author!

[waxbean.livejournal.com]

I love the detials -- but I especially enjoy your voice in this - or rather your conceptualization of Aziraphale's voice.

Nice work, Secret Author!

W

[mi-guida.livejournal.com]

Lucretia! *swoons* I'm re-reading her biography now, squee, squee, bounce, you are of joy and wonder, Secret Writer!

The whole things was beautiful and you manage to conjure scenes so I can see them in detail even though you don't give detailed descriptions. Bravo!

[shadowvalkyrie.livejournal.com]

It was definitely something new to read GO in first-person, but it actually seems to work. ("portios of my anatomy" -so Azi! Prudish angel!) I love how your historical scenes inform the reader exactly about the what and when very pointedly and without long descriptions.

[aviss.livejournal.com]

Oh, this is so sweet!

[burntcopper.livejournal.com]

:melts: oh, *lovely*.

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