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Snippet for Lisa Bee
Crowley and Aziraphale in Venice, for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lisa_bee
The Devil's Courtyard
No one expected to see the Devil himself in the Corte del Diavolo, obviously - he usually only sent his minions. This one was an especially tipsy demon in a black eye mask and black silk costume, black hair pulled back in a black ribbon.
The handsome young man in his arms patiently listened to him ramble on about horses and how much he hated them and how much better boats were to get around on and why didn't they go off in search of a nice gondola to relax in?
The young man's eyes were the blue that Crowley was used to, fresh and light like the sky on a summer morning. But the man shook his head, laughing yet wary, as if he instinctively knew that underneath the glamour Crowley was no good. He soon slipped away with a friendly kiss and Crowley let him go.
People filled the square, dancing, drinking, doing all the things that came naturally. To humans. He felt like he was alone, the noise and the colour too fast for him to follow, slipping into a blur.
'I thought I'd find you here,' said a cool voice. 'I'm not surprised they named it after you.'
Crowley jumped. Aziraphale stood beside him, scowling, with his arms folded.
'I suppose he hasn't got enough problems that he needs to be groped by a demon?' Aziraphale went on.
Crowley shook the alcohol from his body in an instant, and forced a grin. 'S'not a problem for me.' He didn’t like seeing Aziraphale's stony expression. 'I wasn't serious,' he said, dropping the smile, 'just having a bit of fun.'
'So I saw,' Aziraphale said, cocking an eyebrow. 'More than just a bit.'
'Oh, come on. I wouldn't, you know that,' Crowley said, wondering exactly who he was reassuring. But he was sure he meant it. Crowley didn't really want to do anyone any harm. Any lasting harm. He thought that Aziraphale nearly grasped that. His thoughts tripped over the young man's wary laugh, and how he'd seen something in Crowley that he didn’t want. 'It wasn't that much fun anyway.' Which was mostly true, after the fact.
'No? Never mind.' He didn't sound at all sympathetic. 'He's certainly having fun now.'
They looked over. The young man had danced away, arms tight round a pretty girl dressed in yellow, and now they were kissing, standing wrapped up in each other as though they were the only two there. Crowley watched them, half meaning to deal Aziraphale a cutting reply, but then he forgot, too caught up the couple's closeness and the way they moved together like they'd known each other forever.
'Do drinks with me sound like a better idea?' Aziraphale broke in eventually, his tone gentler than before. 'They look happy, don’t they?' He turned to Crowley, uncrossing his arms and smoothing down his immaculate powder blue costume. 'Looks like you did a good job in the end. Cupid.' He smiled.
He put an arm through Crowley's, and didn't seem to mind that Crowley silently tucked his hand close under his elbow.
'Drinks sound all right, I suppose,' Crowley said, his tone precisely measured to imply that he really didn’t care one way or the other, even though Aziraphale didn’t look fooled for one moment. 'And don't call me Cupid.'
lisa_beeThe Devil's Courtyard
No one expected to see the Devil himself in the Corte del Diavolo, obviously - he usually only sent his minions. This one was an especially tipsy demon in a black eye mask and black silk costume, black hair pulled back in a black ribbon.
The handsome young man in his arms patiently listened to him ramble on about horses and how much he hated them and how much better boats were to get around on and why didn't they go off in search of a nice gondola to relax in?
The young man's eyes were the blue that Crowley was used to, fresh and light like the sky on a summer morning. But the man shook his head, laughing yet wary, as if he instinctively knew that underneath the glamour Crowley was no good. He soon slipped away with a friendly kiss and Crowley let him go.
People filled the square, dancing, drinking, doing all the things that came naturally. To humans. He felt like he was alone, the noise and the colour too fast for him to follow, slipping into a blur.
'I thought I'd find you here,' said a cool voice. 'I'm not surprised they named it after you.'
Crowley jumped. Aziraphale stood beside him, scowling, with his arms folded.
'I suppose he hasn't got enough problems that he needs to be groped by a demon?' Aziraphale went on.
Crowley shook the alcohol from his body in an instant, and forced a grin. 'S'not a problem for me.' He didn’t like seeing Aziraphale's stony expression. 'I wasn't serious,' he said, dropping the smile, 'just having a bit of fun.'
'So I saw,' Aziraphale said, cocking an eyebrow. 'More than just a bit.'
'Oh, come on. I wouldn't, you know that,' Crowley said, wondering exactly who he was reassuring. But he was sure he meant it. Crowley didn't really want to do anyone any harm. Any lasting harm. He thought that Aziraphale nearly grasped that. His thoughts tripped over the young man's wary laugh, and how he'd seen something in Crowley that he didn’t want. 'It wasn't that much fun anyway.' Which was mostly true, after the fact.
'No? Never mind.' He didn't sound at all sympathetic. 'He's certainly having fun now.'
They looked over. The young man had danced away, arms tight round a pretty girl dressed in yellow, and now they were kissing, standing wrapped up in each other as though they were the only two there. Crowley watched them, half meaning to deal Aziraphale a cutting reply, but then he forgot, too caught up the couple's closeness and the way they moved together like they'd known each other forever.
'Do drinks with me sound like a better idea?' Aziraphale broke in eventually, his tone gentler than before. 'They look happy, don’t they?' He turned to Crowley, uncrossing his arms and smoothing down his immaculate powder blue costume. 'Looks like you did a good job in the end. Cupid.' He smiled.
He put an arm through Crowley's, and didn't seem to mind that Crowley silently tucked his hand close under his elbow.
'Drinks sound all right, I suppose,' Crowley said, his tone precisely measured to imply that he really didn’t care one way or the other, even though Aziraphale didn’t look fooled for one moment. 'And don't call me Cupid.'
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Aziraphale, if you've got any sense of decency at all, you'll make sure that Crowley has a very good time in Venice.
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The young man's eyes were the blue that Crowley was used to, fresh and light like the sky on a summer morning.
And it's just so sweet that Aziraphale is wearing that same colour.
Poor lonely Crowley, feeling alone and jealous of the human couple's closeness. I'm glad he was feeling enough himself by the end to complain about being teased :-)
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Very glad you enjoyed it!
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*sporfle*
Love the last three fics you've posted (this one groups rather oddly with the other two, but it's also balancing, I guess).
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Yes, there is a rather odd mix of things coming out of my head right now - but they're all inspired by the many weird and wonderful requests recently.
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I was going to comment on the young man's eyes, but I appear to be too late. Liked that description. Also how much Crowley hates horses, and that he's rambling. Wonderful detail, and it made me crack up, imagining Crowley finding a gondola-Bentley.
And Crowley and Aziraphale almost-bickering in the end is just fabulous--how Crowley has to maintain a calm aloof face, even though Aziraphale knows it's a facade, and Crowley knows he knows. (eeep. That reads wrong, I'm sure...)
And, of course: Crowley didn't really want to do anyone any harm. Any lasting harm.
Because, really, that's so dead-on Crowley. Thankyou!
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And I'm very glad you enjoyed this - yay! Thanks for the marvellous fb.
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