Chapter Text
“It’s really terribly unfortunate.”
Aziraphale’s expression fell into a troubled frown as he leaned across the low table and poured another generous helping of wine into Crowley’s extended cup, before setting the jug down and leaning back against the cushions behind him.
“I dare say I’ve rather enjoyed our interactions over the centuries, dear boy,” he sighed. “However… random and accidental they may have been.”
“Yeah, of course,” Crowley agreed, taking a sweet sip and settling the cup against his knee. “ Completely accidental.”
Crowley knew with certainty that the last three times he’d “run into” Aziraphale in whatever Earth location one of them had been assigned to had not been random at all. And of those three times, Crowley had only made two of them happen. He took another sip of his wine and smiled into his cup with mild annoyance, and a grudgingly affectionate sense of amusement.
Perhaps the Angel of the Eastern Gate - all flaming sword and righteous anxiety - wasn’t quite as good at subtlety as the Serpent of Eden.
“I don’t know why they’ve started asking questions,” Aziraphale fretted, hands wringing as he set his own cup down. “It seems they’ve become impatient with our apparent stalemate - upstairs . Gabriel seems to think that I should be seeing better results.”
“I’d say you’re getting results,” Crowley argued. “Barely half of my wicked schemes have come to fruition in the past… well, how long, now, have we had the Ar-”
“ Don’t say it,” Aziraphale cut him off, hushed and pleading, wide blue eyes anxiously scanning the room.
“All right, all right,” Crowley soothed him. “But… 200 years or thereabout, yeah? You’ve thwarted quite an impressive number of my wiles. Why should they be complaining?”
“Perhaps because you have bested me roughly the same?” Aziraphale pointed out, his lips forming a troubled, nearly petulant pout. “And… for the number of times I’ve reported… encountering you, here on Earth…”
“There’s your trouble,” Crowley cut in, knowing and foreboding, taking another drink and tipping his somewhat wobbly glass toward the principality. “ Reporting. What they don’t know , angel, can’t…”
“This is serious , Crowley,” Aziraphale snapped, a faint tremor in his voice, and Crowley fell silent, arching a single, questioning brow. “They seem to believe that my efforts should be producing more of a… well, a body count .”
Crowley’s smile fell, immediately sobered, though far from sober.
“Body count. By which you mean my body. Discorporation. They want you to discorporate me?”
“Well, they just don’t understand why, if I’ve… run into you so frequently and have actually been thwarting you with such consistency, it never seems to have… actually come to battle.”
Crowley let out a rude huff of laughter, rolling his eyes and staring down into his cup - the wine it held oddly hazy and swimming before his eyes.
“If it did come to that, ‘d be you needing the new corporation, angel.”
Aziraphale huffed, rolling his eyes as he leaned over and tipped a bit more wine into Crowley’s glass. “ Really , Crowley…”
“It would ,” Crowley insisted, the words feeling oddly thick and fuzzy on his tongue. He drank a bit more to clear his mouth and hopefully his head, which was beginning to feel oddly heavy as well. “I’d show you how… a serpent can strike… quick and deadly...”
“Of course, dear.” Aziraphale’s tone was oddly soft, tenderly tolerant. “I’m sure you would.”
As he spoke, the angel reached out to take Crowley’s cup and set it on the table in front of him, just before the wine spilled out over Crowley’s clothing. Crowley frowned, reaching out to grasp it - but somehow missed.
The simple task might have been easier if he hadn’t had to try to determine which of the two cups wavering before his eyes he should reach for.
“There’s every chance you’d win, if it came to actual combat,” Aziraphale went on, in a tone of patronizing generosity. “Or… I’d win, perhaps, and… I’d really rather not hurt you, dear boy. No, it’s truly better this way...”
Crowley blinked up at Aziraphale, struggling to focus on his face as his vision dimmed - his hazy mind slowly processing the principality’s words.
“Angel, what…” Crowley slurred out, as Aziraphale slid a strong arm behind him to steady him. “... what did you do? ”
“Just rest,” Aziraphale murmured, low and soothing as he carefully lowered Crowley’s body back onto the cushions behind him. “It shouldn’t hurt a bit. Just go to sleep, now, and you’ll wake up downstairs. Tell them whatever you like, whatever works to your best advantage. You’ll be back in no time with a shiny new corporation - and Heaven will be appeased for a while.”
“‘Thisss is cheating, ” Crowley managed to gasp out in a choked, wounded whisper. “‘Ssss not fair, angel… I’ll be…” The world darkened around him as his strength faded, his body going lax and his muscles uncooperative. “... back for you…”
The last thing Crowley was aware of was Aziraphale’s hand, warm and soft as it gently brushed Crowley’s hair back from his face, and the angel’s soft, sorrowfully affectionate words.
“I’m counting on it.”