The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chap 11:The Best Performance of the Angel's Life Part One

Chap 11: The Best Performance of the Angel's Life Part One

"The angel's finally free!"

Crowley entered the bathroom laughing out loud. The light switch was slammed on and the door yanked closed as he did a sort of victory dance. A funny little shrug, a punch in the air, bouncing on his feet like a boxer, and then throwing his arms out wide, his body couldn't hold back its elation any longer. He'd never felt this great before. It was a sheer thrill.

Aziraphale was an experience, and one that lingered. A nearly palpable thing. His body, his little mannerisms, his sudden openness, all of it contributing to one expansive joy. God, there was nothing like him in the in entire world!

Crowley beamed at his reflection in the mirror and told it," Anything could happen now! Another thousand years perhaps. Or just tonight. But who cares!" He bent back and laughed hard. "Angel's free!"

As the laughter trickled into soft chuckles, Crowley was caught off guard by the status of his eyes. There staring back at him were the same, immense, pulsing sun bursts slashed down the center like a deep wound. They hadn't receded down after that glorious encounter, and the moisture collecting in their edges held a pink hue. His tear ducks seemed stained with tiny pinpricks of red brown.

The smile died on his face, turned into a snarl, and he pointed at his reflection accusingly.

"Don't you ruin this for me!" he threatened, then began rocking back and forth. "Why haven't you left already!"

Now he was pacing. "He's looking at you now. You're frightening him. You LIE to him about me! Because of you he thinks I'm injured. But I'm not letting you spoil this for me, do you hear!"

His eyes gazed back, unchanging. Crimson moisture glittered around the edges, and set him off.

"Go away!!!"

Suddenly a light tapping came to the door, making Crowley jump. "Crowley, I heard shouting. Are you alright in there?"

"Perfectly fine," he answered blandly, dropping his voice to normal levels.

"It's just that it sounded like you were having a row with somebody."

"Acting, I was acting. Performing. Practicing?"

"Practicing? For what?"

"Ehhhh, some weird sex thing, much further down the road. Or maybe not. Never mind. Was a bad idea. Be out in a jiff. Please stop listening at the door. You won't hear a thing."

On the other side Aziraphale stepped back. He looked at the door.

"I don't believe a word of it." And then, very methodically, he began to dress himself.

Meanwhile Crowley was leaning on the sink, trying to talk himself down. "Big deal? Not a big deal. He'll forget about it. He hasn't said anything for a while. Be great. Be fantastic. This isn't over. Night's still young. I'll just clean myself up a bit. That's it. That's all I need. Get ready for the next round is all. Yeah, good possibility. It's fine. It's all fine."

These expectations were crushed the moment he stepped back into the dark bedroom.

There was no sight of the angel, and there was no feel of him either. Oh, he was there, but the room appeared remiss of him and darker and colder for it. But the room hadn't changed.

Then Crowley caught some movement cast in the window's light. Aziraphale stood solidly there, his body turned away, his shoulders squared. The angel was fully dressed and fiddling with his tie. He wouldn't turn around as Crowley approached. When Aziraphale did acknowledge his friend's presence, he stated, "Play time's over, Crowley."