neutral_omens | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Date: May, 2000
Setting: Manor Grounds
Status: Public
Summary: A General Announcement and a meeting.

There had been a sign Aziraphale had sellotaped to the edge of his desk a few days ago, since his conversation with Hermes. It was simple, and drew a few questions, but Aziraphale rather liked it. It read:

Mr. Fell's Storytime. Come one, come all!
Saturday after tea.

It made him feel like one of the readers from that show, Jackanory. Except Aziraphale was rather grateful he didn't resemble Prince Charles or the like.

It was now three o'clock and he was sitting in the library, a large, weathered book open in his lap. He had his glasses on, sliding as they were, and a glass of water sat on a coaster within arm's reach. There were pillows strewed about in the small space in front of him, and the bookshelves stretched back. Aziraphale stroked his chin, deep in thought, as he mouthed the words of the next passage.

"Never was the dawn so beautiful," he said to himself, tapping the page. He was so wrapped up in the text and the elaborate illustrations he hadn't noticed the newcomer.

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Belial slipped in behind Crowley, padding along the floor without even the faintest whisper of breath; his nature gave him a few advantages. He would be a gulf of nothing in Crowley's supernatural senses, and the demon's head was turned away from him besides.

He squatted down beside Crowley in one fluid motion, curled his finger beneath the disheartened demon's chin, and tipped Crowley's face up to look at the angles of it properly. "Why so sad?" he murmured. "Time passes, and you've got something much better than fragile faith in a hypocritical God." His eyes flicked towards the reading angel and he gave Crowley a darkly brilliant, knowing smile.

Crowley looked up, surprised. He hadn't heard or sensed anyone approaching and having someone able to touch him without any prior indication is disconcerting indeed.

"Belial?" A faint smile crossed his face. "How the... not hell are you?"

He followed Belial's glance and looked at Aziraphale ensconced in his chair, Ellie and Hermes at his feet like adoring worshippers.

"I don't know, Bel," he whispered. "It's different for us. We have a lot of history."

Sliding down beside Crowley, Belial leaned against the demon companionably, hefting a heavy volume from the stack of books on the very bottom shelf. It was a dusty copy of Encyclopedia of European Geology and Tectonics. Volume F.

"'Fissures: Elongated fractures or cracks on the slopes of a volcano. Fissure eruptions typically produce liquid flows, but pyroclastics may also be ejected.'" He paused, blinked, and shook his head. "That was about as helpful as a pointy rock in a water bed. I was hoping to find something inspiring on the first try."

He looked up at Crowley and gave him a reassuring smile. "You two will be fine. Trust me. Besides," he grinned mischievously, "an immortal would have all sorts of history with anyone to find as good a kisser as you."

Giving Belial a puzzled glance, Crowley allowed the familiarity and smirked back. "If you're angling for another, you could just come right out and say so..."

Then he sobered a bit. "It's not the kissing that's an issue, though. It's just... before about twenty years ago, we only ever saw each other once every few years. It got more frequent as we went on, but I still spent most of my time alone. Now he's around all the time. And I want him around all the time. But there's still a lot to work around. Things we've never discussed. Things that never came up when we were just friends. Like why one doesn't bring up traumatic events from the past in public, for starters."

Crowley glowered again for a moment, then relaxed. "But you don't want to listen to this crap. How are you doing? And Gabriel? Talked him into the Full Monty yet? He doesn't seem quite as cold as usual..."

"Am I so transparent?" he teased, waggling his hand dramatically.

Belial shut the encyclopedic volume and let it dangle between his knees, looking back towards Aziraphale. "There's a lot to get around. It'll be difficult. But if you care any whit about one another then you'll get around it."

He scrunched up his nose. "Take my word for it, you'll figure it out--he'll figure it out. You've got eternity, and until you adjust just don't stop talking. If you stop talking it'll all fall apart."

"As for Gabriel and I, we're getting along quite well. I'll leave it to your imagination to what I do with him in my spare time, because I think he'd be a bit miffed if you followed him about smirking madly. And really, he's rather warm..."

Crowley laughed then. But quietly. He didn't want to draw Aziraphale's attention. And it was probably a good thing he hadn't yet noticed how much attention Hermes was paying to the angel. "Like a pane of glass. You never were all that subtle."

He slumped comfortably against the undemon. "And listen to you talking about communication and caring. When the hell did you become Mr. Long-Term Relationship Expert? I always thought you were the love-'em-and-leave-'em type. Except for messenger boy. I'll just take your word on his relative temperature, thanks."

"Let's just say I spent a great deal of time watching humans. Not all of them have it figured out, and the ones that have it figured out don't think they do," he said, grinning sideways at Crowley. "Surely you've seen it. We're no more emotionally mature than human teenagers; you and Aziraphale are the voices of human and emotional experience and you still don't know how to be in love."

Belial tilted his head back against the bookcase and closed his eyes. "We're all still growing up. I've lived in desperation. Gabriel has lived in ignorance. We're all just wayward children of a God who didn't get it right the first time 'round. But at least humans do well, right? Maybe he'll perfect it on the third try, if there is one."

"Sure, I've watched humans, but I don't agree that they know what they're doing. We get more souls for Hell from love than anything else. You know that." He laid his head on Belial's shoulder. "And seeing someone else walking through the park hand-in-hand isn't exactly a manual for how to do it yourself. Damn, it took me a millennia or two to figure out what the hell I was feeling anyway, because demons can't love, supposedly. Or shouldn't. Or whatever the fuck they tell us. And angels are supposed to love everything but mostly Him. Not one being specifically or else they tumble. ... Are you worried about that? For yours, I mean? What with Michael and everything?"

Belial flicked a strand of hair across Crowley's nose, playful.

"You think we're that much different than humans? We learn and fuck up like any one else. We've got a bit more weight to pull, more responsibility, so I suppose our punishment is more harsh for our screw-ups. But love isn't one of them. People go to Hell because they do the wrong thing for love, not because they love. I did the wrong thing for love, when I could have had my joy right there, when I was too ashamed to confront my desires. Afraid."

Hand cupped, he caught a feathery mote of dust in his palm and lit it afire with dancing blue flames. It wisped, a tiny gasping crackle, and expired into nothing. "This is what they are to us, all dust and fire, in our hours, they live whole years while everything around them spins."

"To find love so quickly, a thing that takes us so long to even recognize, maybe something is to be gained from watching mortals hold hands in a park."

Crowley snorted.

"You could have had your joy right there? Somehow I don't think so. I can't imagine that even archangels are allowed to bugger each other in Heaven. Would you have been able to accept love without sex? Do you think you'd have been able to convince him to even try if you were both angels? Not that angels are incapable of being the instigating parties..." His glance flicked to Aziraphale holding court, trying to disguise his good looks with bad clothes. No one looking at him would ever believe that he'd made all the first moves in their relationship, and that was part of what the demon found so damn appealing about him.

"I still think we could find love just as quickly as any human if we know we can have it. But just imagine introducing love to Hell. Not much of a punishment anymore then, is it? And in Heaven? Angels breaking up with one another? Causing anger, jealousy, and lust? Neither side would ever get any work done. Both would get fucked up, just like the Earth, only worse because we're all immortal. Your ex-boyfriend would never go away. Total chaos and destruction."

Belial turned his dark eyes on Crowley, face suddenly hard, the demon's words like nails raked across old wounds barely begun to heal. "You can listen to me, or you can listen to your cynicism. If you don't think I could accept love without sex then you are sorely mistaken. I've suffered through Hell for Gabriel. Literally. I'm not a martyr, nor am I a saint; I have my selfish reasons for doing it, and I have and am still willing to accept responsibility for my errors."

He unclenched his fist and stood. "And you're wrong. We can't. Not us. We don't trust like that. It took the both of us centuries to fall in love, and ten times that long to admit it. There is love in Hell, but you might be too blinded by being on Earth so long to see it; it's not always happy, or fun, or even good, but it's there and it flourishes. Love already exists in the purest of places, just as it exists in the most depraved. It's not love at fault, it's only us."

"I can't change reality for you, my friend."

Tongue stinging from the anger in his own words, he turned his face from Crowley and left as he had come, shadowy silent.

Crowley stared at Belial's retreating back, wondering what he'd said to set him off. Then he snorted.

"If you really think we're the ones at fault, Belial, you're way more cynical than I am," he murmured, wrapping his arms around his knees again to avoid a chill.

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