diatu | Surf's up, School's out

Surf's up, School's out

Who: Crowley and OPEN - (Now with bonus August Adventure)
What: A demon getting used to school, meeting new people, going to class... what could go wrong?
Where: In and about the Academy (August Catchall)
When: First day of class
Warnings: Bit of cursing here and there

Room 666
The shades were drawn but only enough so that the light streamed into the room through a narrow slit, brightening the center of the room but leaving the corners rather dark and secluded. That car was still out there. He couldn't make out who was in the driver's seat... if indeed there was anyone in the driver's seat at all... but it had been following him. He thought it had been following him anyway. Maybe it was a mistake?
Maybe every one in this place drove silver DeLorean's. He was too suspicious to be that gullible!

Crowley stood near the window peering out past the curtains, glaring at the stalkers car, fully content to watch it as long as it took to find out who was following him... that is until there was a knock on his door which necessitated his sauntering over to answer it. Now whether the knock had been on purpose or accidental he leaned on the frame and looked over the person in the hall.

"If you are selling I have all the paper and quills I will ever need... Maybe if you try the next door down? And knock really loud," he added for just that extra touch of demonic mischief to incite the maximum level of disturbance to his new neighbor, "They are a bit hard of hearing."

First Class
Crowley came to class on that first day in typical style. He was late and wearing his stylish outfit from home instead of his assigned uniform. He made a grand production of taking a seat at the back of the classroom and propping up his feet on the back of the desk chair in front of him... very nearly on top of the head of the student sitting at that desk.

Intimations class. Crowley had no idea what that was, barely looked at the syllabus when one was passed around to him, and was more focused on constructing a few paper wads to fling at the other student in the next row over... until the instructor demonstrated one of the spells they would be learning in the class by reciting a prayer to the God of Love. Then his demonic outcry would be heard echoing throughout the school.

"NGK!!! What the Heaven... What kind of class is this?!"

With a prayer and a gesture by an irate instructor who had had enough Crowley would find himself unceremoniously magically teleported out of the classroom for being too much of a disturbance. He is bound to reappear; falling from the air, crashing into your dorm bed, splashing down in the middle of a pool... feel free to run into him anywhere.

Escape
He was outside in a flash, hopping down the cement steps and taking off across the lawn in long-legged gate.

"No, no, no, no, no! This is ridiculous! I can't be in that kind of class! Or have that kind of magic!"

Fear and uncertainty manifested itself as anger and he hissed to himself as he fled the school building.

"It has to be a mistake or..."

With a fierce glare he staggered back to snark at the sky.

"Some great big pissing joke!"

He knows you are up there God and just laughing your ass off about this! There would be no answer of course, there never was. There was only the interminable silence and the fear that this was all some how ineffable.

August Adventure - Panic At The Fresco

Renowned artist Brank Cee just finished his latest masterpiece -- only for a sudden Valhudor flash mob to erupt just as he hung it up to dry! Now he's over here, the piece is over there, and the lead actor has come within a hair's breadth of skewering it with his sword prop three different times in one duel alone! He can't get through the crowd to recover it, let alone the performance. Oh please, rescue his painting and he will reward you!

Lounging on a bench Crowley looked up at the panicked artist, then over to the flash mob, then laid right back down where he had been .

"Why not just walk over there and get it yourself? Yea, yea, yea... you are afraid of getting conscripted to the play."

It did seem like they were pulling people in from all over. Willing and not-so willing participants either joined in with the song and dance or sulked angrily in the background.

"I don't know why you think I want to get caught up in it either."

Besides, like a flicker of flame springing to life, he suddenly had a better idea one he sat bolt upright for.

"Why not leave the painting where it is? So it gets skewered! All you need is a crowd of people watching and you could make a bundle off those bits of painting fragments still hanging in the frame. Call it performance art! They will see you as a genius."

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Even before Aziraphale spoke it was easy to see there would be no spitballs.

"That's easy for you to say, you get to use forbidden magic! I've been stuck with bowing and scraping and... praying to Gods that don't actually exist!"

He hadn't been paying the most attention in class but some how he had still picked up on this. There was a good student hidden beneath all that bluster some where.

"Supposed to be praying to the Five Gods of Men, what good are those to me? I'm not a man, I'm a demon, and we don't pray to anyone."

"No, of course you don't. But shouldn't the blasphemy of it appeal? I meant, ought you be tempting the rest of us--that is, the human students--to deny our own and join your House to worship and pray to these foreign dieties?"

That still left Crowley without direct magic of his own. What a pickle.

"Surely at least one of them is tolerable? Perhaps a trickster, not unlike Loki or yourself? A praying demon seems to be forbidden magic in it's own right."

"Blasphemy..."

He fussed with the little plant, angling it to receive the best of the evening sun, and then slipped that most precious of borrowed keys into his pocket lest it should fall into the wrong hands by being left out in the open. There was a small loveseat next to that stack of books which he flopped into as he considered just how terrible Aziraphale's suggestion would be. A praying demon did seem forbidden... He couldn't think of one who ever had done something like that. ~~His conversations with the Almighty aside~~. He could be the first.

"Some weird guy, Wright or Alec, suggested praying to something I believed in."

Which could have been himself, a trickster God if there was one or... Crowley's shaded eyes moved over Aziraphale. What other sort of angel would be actively encouraging a demon into blasphemy! He was a brilliant bastard.

After watching Crowley endearingly fuss over the little plant, Aziraphale decided he had enough familiarity and lacked just enough manners to invite himself to sit. A brief consideration of the space, some hemming and hawing, and he dusted off a spot on the edge of Crowley’s bed and primly sat facing him.

Wright had been part of Alec’s name once, hadn’t it? Or perhaps he was misremembering. In any case, the mention of their friend’s advice brought a warmth to him. They were talking again! Oh, he knew Alec couldn’t keep away for long. He loved Crowley too much after everything to cut ties completely.

“That does sound like something Alec would say,” he admitted fondly. “Kind of a romantic notion; He is very sweet and exceedingly thoughtful, under everything. It’s a shame the Bentley isn’t here. You might’ve prayed to that.”

"Pray to the God of fast classic cars?"

Crowley's smirk was as good as a laugh. After all why not! If these instructors could make up false Gods then he could make up a few of his own and make them much more Crowley-centric Gods.

"There needs to be five of them though... And the name needs work. The God of the Road."

Yes, he did like that better! Now what else did he worship.

"The God of Excessive Drink, it'll be like Bacchus only with less Roman flair. The Great Serpent God... which would be myself."

With three potential Gods in the running Crowley felt much more confident in the plan and able to admire the very prim and proper way Aziraphale sat. He always did try to maintain, at least a flavor, of that regal angelic air. He found himself puzzling over how best to describe Aziraphale. God of Books... would flatter the angel greatly but be a touch too academic for Crowley. God of Strange Unrequited Feelings... was too much honesty! God of Friendship... was way too soft!

"God of Likable Bastards. That's you."

How vain, the serpent worshipping himself! But how fitting as well, as blasphemy and vanity were surely boons to ones demonic nature. And of course yes, they worshipped at the altar of excessive drink perhaps too excessively, but one had to enjoy life.

God of Likeable Bastards. Even without the confirmation, Aziraphale preened and glowed, knowing that was undeniably him. Feeling the weight of Crowley's gaze, he straightened up his appearance in that prissy way of his. Enough of a bastard to be worth knowing, Crowley had called him once, and he wore that honor with pride. Perhaps too much, he realized, the smile dropping with a flustered shake of his head.

"Oh no, you can't worship me." I'm an angel, was the initial objection. I'm a servant of the Almighty. That would be false idolatry or... something. None of those felt as distressing or problematic as they should be. "I can't grant you magic."

"Why not?"

He shrugged with both hands held wide open.

"Catholics worship angels. They have those Saint medals they wear. Anyone looking for addition guidance turns to their St. Michael and I think we both know how foolish turning to Michael for anything is!"

Especially for a demon, but setting that aside he was certain Aziraphale would be wary of that one too. Michael always came across and sneaky and cold.

"And here, these people are putting their faith in made up Gods why can't I put my faith behind some one real?"

Begrudgingly, he had to admit Crowley had a point. Though, neither of them were Catholic (they didn't have religions), and Michael was what Crowley would call a Wanker and icy and above it all, and why anyone would appeal to Michael for anything--

Well, it was just beyond him.

"Say I humor this," he said cautiously, eying his demon with skepticism. It was flattering, and touching, to have gone from the rift between them to this show of faith, but he still didn't understand how he could help.

"Say you do send out a prayer: 'O Angel, Principality of the Eastern Gate, grant us your blessing,'" he said, adopting a sarcastic parody of prayer, hands together as if making a heavenly appeal. "'Give us safeguard against the ills of hangovers and cold cocoa; and defend us against covetous customers and crossing pedestrians. Amen.' ...I still can't grant you magic."

Crowley nodded while staring ahead at the ever so cautious angel. Yes, humor this. These were the solid footings of a very real and very dastardly plan here.

"Safeguard us against hangovers and cold cocoa..."

That prayer was brilliant! He had to smirk in order to contain the happy, charmed snake, wiggle that threatened to expose how much he adored being in Aziraphale's presence especially when the blasted angel was being a snarky bastard.

"Welllll, not you, you. Not directly. But this kind of magic doesn't deal in being direct. It would be more me beseeching the idea of you."

"The idea of me?" It sounded ridiculous, as all Crowley's schemes tended to be in their infancy, but it was a clever bending of the rules and he would expect nothing less. He could feel the temptation of it all sinking into his corporation, a desire to give in and agree that was purely his own heart and vanity and not actually a demonic temptation.

It was terribly sweet to have Crowley thinking of him to conjure up his magic, wasn't it? To think, assuming this at all worked, that he liked Aziraphale so much as to draw power from the mere thought of him. That sort of thing could go to an Angel's head.

"If you think it would work," he agreed, trying to not look quite so pleased and enamored with the concept. "Anything to get you to study."

Sweet! If one were so inclined one might have called it horribly romantic. There was some kind of power in wistful thoughts, dreaming of the one you cared about, and taking strength merely from their presence in the room. Being the silly demon that he was Crowley only recognized this yearning as best friendship but many a song had been written about the power of love and what a powerful motivator it could be.

It was going to get a demon to study.

"Study! Tch..." His head lolled to one side, away from the books, "Maybe there is some clever way around that too."

After a good whine.

Even best friendship was a form of love, and love had really been what had saved the world. It had certainly been a driving factor--from lunches and dolphins and Prince Albert's Hall, to ...or I'll never speak to you again to that swap for Heaven and Hell. Certainly not literally, but they had always drawn some kind of power from their friendship, and if they could demonstrate that openly and manifest it as magic... The idea was growing on him more and more.

"If there is, I'm sure you will find it, and if there isn't, I'm sure you'll try regardless. Of course, you could always just find a study group. Maybe your new friend Mr. Wright would be interested?"

"Study group?"

If you mean a group in which the others studied and he merely benefited from their notes, hm.

"That could work. Only he doesn't like to be called Mr. Wright anymore. Had a fit when I made a joke about steeping out with Mr. Wright. Which, speaking of him, how do we know him?"

For clearly they did! There had been Alec's reactions to go off of, that amazing familiarity, and now Aziraphale who seemed to be pushing them to hang out more together. Now maybe Alec was simply an amazing note taker and Aziraphale had found out about that or maybe there was more going on. Crowley's demonic senses were tingling.

"I wish he would make up his mind about names. He collects an awful lot of them." Crowley. Alec. Hardy. Wright. The man had too many last names when they lived in New York and he had too many names now. What was wrong with simply being called Alec?

But oh, how to explain their familiarity. That Alec had been Crowley's cousin, that he was pivotal in bringing Anthony and Fell together, that he was simply their adopted family member of unspecified role and they loved him and he loved them despite everything? How would Crowley take to finding out he had a cousin, though? Would it feel like an obligation? Alec wouldn't like that at all.

"We knew Alec in another world. He's human and we thought we were human too, at the time. And we all grew very close and very fond of each other. Like family," he said, with a happy sigh. It had been so nice, having that closeness between all of them, even if it was a little dysfunctional at times, but it was lovely. "I know he comes off awfully abrasive, but he's extremely sweet and thoughtful and kind, once you get to know him. I think you'll like him. I hope you do. He's very dear."

And then, as an afterthought, "Unfortunately he is a policeman, but he's sort of more a detective, so I guess that's alright."

Family?

"I've never had a family."

It was an off the cuff remark as he settled back into the loveseat and flounced an arm up over the back. Humans had families. It was one of those things humans did best. Some how managing to find someone to start a life with, have all those wonderful bratty kids, and grow old together. It was a lifestyle Crowley was familiar with only through observation.

That Aziraphale liked the sweet and sour cop was a glowing recommendation for Alec, instantly elevating him to the level of being granted demonic protection. Anyone important to Aziraphale was important to him just so he wouldn't have to see his angel upset if something happened.

"A Dick Tracy type or more of your Columbo?"

Neither a Dick Tracy nor a Columbo. Just Alec. He also couldn't imagine anyone making a television programme about Alec as a detective, that was for certain; it would be awfully depressing, or at least Alec's character would find a way to make it so. He ignored the question for more important matters.

"Would you like to have a family?" Not, perhaps, in the usual nuclear family sense that humans traditionally meant: two parents and children and a dog--like Adam had. "It does sound appealing, doesn't it: having a small collective of people to call your own and to share things with?" Growing old with someone by your side, having people closer and more intimate than anything, with whom you could share secrets and hopes. Humans bonded. They banded together. They loved each other through all odds. But who was to say an angel and a demon couldn't also, if they were so inclined? "If you're both amenable, maybe we could still be that little family, the three of us. And anyone else who may fall under that umbrella while we're here. No obligation, of course."

"Never really thought about it."

It had never been an option. They had been created not born like humans were. Which... did bring so many little mysteries to mind as the greater art of humans making little human was still something Crowley was a bit in the dark over. It took two! He had gotten that far on the subject so did that mean...

"You want us to be the parents of a grown human?"

"No! He'd discorporate us both for even so much as suggesting it. Goodness, no. No." And not just that, but as protective as he might have felt towards Alec, and as old as he was truly, he could never imagine attempting to feel parental towards the man. Even with memories restored, Alec felt like the older one sometimes: tired and wise and brotherly.

"There is more to family than just two parents and a child, Crowley. Like ...brothers, or cousins. A sort of peer-level bond; someone who is your equal." Did that make sense to a demon who was 6000 years old and had never known anything but being a celestial being? Aziraphale wasn't sure. He wasn't just an angel for a while now.

"There is only one being who could even come halfway close to being my equal."

And that was Aziraphale himself. They had been rivals and friends for eons, they knew how the other thought, their likes and dislikes, they were closer than Crowley felt a human and a occult being could ever be as human lives were so fleeting but...

"If you want him to be your cousin, I'll play along."

Oh. Well, of course Aziraphale knew this equal was him, had known, probably longer than bear mentioning, because they had been rivals and companions and best friends long before they'd ever actually considered themselves such. But it was still immeasurably flattering and touching to be reminded at random times like this. He wrinkled his nose and smiled to himself, happy and glowing.

"Thank you. I do, very much." They'd all be such a nice little family again in due time. He had faith.

Anything that made Aziraphale pleased enough to glow was worthy of Crowley's attention. And thus Operation make Alec family was launched.

"You don't have to thank me... I would accept a little under the table homework doing, once they get around to giving out any."

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Surf's up, School's out

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