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Sep. 10th, 2004 10:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nnySequel, by popular request, to "Noisy". DH Lawrence is quoted. I have attempted to spell Aziraphale in a way that won't annoy people. *g*
Somewhere Quieter
"Well," Aziraphale said, as he carefully picked his way through piles of dung that were steaming faintly in the night air, "this wasn't quite what I had in mind, I'll admit."
Crowley steadfastly ignored him. He trudged on through the starlit grass, hands thrust deep into jacket pockets, shoulders hunched.
"Crowley, my dear, is there any particular-"
The demon whirled around. "Look, angel." His voice was a hiss. "Unless you particularly want to do a Daniel, or have faith in your ability to provoke a sudden attack of gum disease, I'd suggest you keep it down. Alright?" Aziraphale opened his mouth, took a look at Crowley's expression, and shut it again. Crowley marched on.
The zoo was never entirely quiet, even at midnight. Espcially at midnight, perhaps, when there were no longer the masking human noises, when the animals knew they were sole masters of their territory. Strange, drawn out hoots, low growls, and a shriek that was rather too close for comfort made the angel quicken pace, the crunch of his footsteps directly behind Crowley. He stopped, and looked sideways at him.
"Got it yet?"
Without waiting for a reply he sprang upwards, landing lightly on a chain link fence before dropping down on the other side. He removed his hands from his pockets, rolled his shoulders, and looked abruptly less nervous, though there was only remark in the end of it- he'd appeared fine before, and it was only with the relaxation that how tightly he'd been wound could be seen. He walked forwards again. From behind came the faint huffing and rattle that indicated Aziraphale making his rather more sedate way to the top.
They walked on, and Crowley caught the occasional sidelong glances as they passed sleeping zebra, antelope, monkeys cradling their young. Eventually he sat on a wide, grassy plain, and looked up at the stars, hugging his knees. Aziraphale let out a sigh as he dropped down beside him, and then it was quiet once more.
"Do you remember?"
The angel looked at him, with that expression he sometimes didn't hide quite enough, the one that said he was deciding how obtuse to be. Eventually, he shrugged. "Yes. I remember. 'And the Lord God planted a garden eastward in Eden; and there he put the man whom he had formed. And out of the ground made the Lord God to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight.'"
Crowley nodded, and his voice was bitter as he continued. "'And out of the ground the Lord God formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air...' and the serpent was the most subtle, angel. I'm not nice."
"And we've discussed that I'm not an idiot. I know precisely what you are, Crowley. And I know who. And I find that the former is rather overshadowed by the latter."
"I've done terrible things. I will continue to do terrible things. I bloody enjoyed them."
"And you found me a first edition copy of Dorian Grey, after the apocalypse incident. You stood with me, when you thought it was the end. I know you, Crowley. Don't think I'll stop thwarting, but..." The angel shuffled a little closer, and leaned tentatively against him. Crowley didn't accomodate him, but nor did he move away.
"But what?"
"'I am sick of loveable people,
Somehow they are a lie.'"
Crowley snorted softly, and relaxed a little, letting the angel rest his head on his shoulder.
"Bibliophile."
"And proud of it, dear boy." The angel settled more fully against him. "And I have a car boot sale on Sunday, which I'd really appreciate a lift to..."
Crowley laughed, long and loud.
Somewhere Quieter
"Well," Aziraphale said, as he carefully picked his way through piles of dung that were steaming faintly in the night air, "this wasn't quite what I had in mind, I'll admit."
Crowley steadfastly ignored him. He trudged on through the starlit grass, hands thrust deep into jacket pockets, shoulders hunched.
"Crowley, my dear, is there any particular-"
The demon whirled around. "Look, angel." His voice was a hiss. "Unless you particularly want to do a Daniel, or have faith in your ability to provoke a sudden attack of gum disease, I'd suggest you keep it down. Alright?" Aziraphale opened his mouth, took a look at Crowley's expression, and shut it again. Crowley marched on.
The zoo was never entirely quiet, even at midnight. Espcially at midnight, perhaps, when there were no longer the masking human noises, when the animals knew they were sole masters of their territory. Strange, drawn out hoots, low growls, and a shriek that was rather too close for comfort made the angel quicken pace, the crunch of his footsteps directly behind Crowley. He stopped, and looked sideways at him.
"Got it yet?"
Without waiting for a reply he sprang upwards, landing lightly on a chain link fence before dropping down on the other side. He removed his hands from his pockets, rolled his shoulders, and looked abruptly less nervous, though there was only remark in the end of it- he'd appeared fine before, and it was only with the relaxation that how tightly he'd been wound could be seen. He walked forwards again. From behind came the faint huffing and rattle that indicated Aziraphale making his rather more sedate way to the top.
They walked on, and Crowley caught the occasional sidelong glances as they passed sleeping zebra, antelope, monkeys cradling their young. Eventually he sat on a wide, grassy plain, and looked up at the stars, hugging his knees. Aziraphale let out a sigh as he dropped down beside him, and then it was quiet once more.
"Do you remember?"
The angel looked at him, with that expression he sometimes didn't hide quite enough, the one that said he was deciding how obtuse to be. Eventually, he shrugged. "Yes. I remember. 'And the Lord God planted a garden eastward in Eden; and there he put the man whom he had formed. And out of the ground made the Lord God to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight.'"
Crowley nodded, and his voice was bitter as he continued. "'And out of the ground the Lord God formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air...' and the serpent was the most subtle, angel. I'm not nice."
"And we've discussed that I'm not an idiot. I know precisely what you are, Crowley. And I know who. And I find that the former is rather overshadowed by the latter."
"I've done terrible things. I will continue to do terrible things. I bloody enjoyed them."
"And you found me a first edition copy of Dorian Grey, after the apocalypse incident. You stood with me, when you thought it was the end. I know you, Crowley. Don't think I'll stop thwarting, but..." The angel shuffled a little closer, and leaned tentatively against him. Crowley didn't accomodate him, but nor did he move away.
"But what?"
"'I am sick of loveable people,
Somehow they are a lie.'"
Crowley snorted softly, and relaxed a little, letting the angel rest his head on his shoulder.
"Bibliophile."
"And proud of it, dear boy." The angel settled more fully against him. "And I have a car boot sale on Sunday, which I'd really appreciate a lift to..."
Crowley laughed, long and loud.
