The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 45: Unscheduled Fun Part 2 (Or Bourbon and Sore Buttocks)

Chapter 45: Unscheduled Fun Part 2 (Or Bourbon and Sore Buttocks)

The angel was driving the demon insane.

Intentionally taking his time with the meal. Potato salad had been enough for Crowley. Half a sandwich. A couple of drafts of the ale to quench his thirst. But the angel ate at a deliberate, excruciatingly snail's pace. Making yummy noises and chewing longer than was necessary. Every so often he locked eyes with the demon, and smirked. He was fully aware of Crowley's squirming. It was cute 15 minutes in, but now the demon was grimacing, his lip curling. He had to keep his hands in his pockets just to keep them away from the bulge growing in his tight jeans. And just when he thought it was nearly over, and Aziraphale tapped the napkin to the edges of his mouth, the angel decided he needed more of the ale, sending Crowley into a silent fit of rage and making him jerk around and box the air.

But once he settled down, the demon smirked, and snapped his fingers. Aziraphale's head whipped up, his eyes wide. Slowly he withdrew his hand from the basket, and his face screwed up.

"Aw, Bourbon, Crowley? Really?"

The demon wiggled his eyebrows and grinned wider. "Go ahead and try to find the weaker stuff. S' all gone, now."

The angel's face was grim. "You miracled the whole case of it in here, didn't you?"

Crowley jerked his head to his raising shoulders," Heh, well..."

"You know I can't stand the stuff!"

Crowley was starting to shake with the ensuing laughter. "You used to like it. You bought it once with the plan to finish it." The snarky chuckles started emanating from his nose. Aziraphale glowered.

"I need to get rid of it, just to end your shenanigans."

The demon guffawed, unable to hold back. "It's the after effect you don't care much for, not the taste. After that night in the States--"

"Oh, how humiliating!" The angel's face contorted. "My backside was so sore, and I recall nothing."

"Wasn't me," Crowley chuckled, or continued to chuckle. It really was a wave of humor that wouldn't release him. "Was the brood mare."

Complete silence. Like someone had dropped an entire crystal chandelier to shatter in from of them. A growing terror filled Aziraphale's eyes, and he cleared his throat, and shook his head. "Um.....what?"

"You got so plastered, angel, or don't you remember? Of course not. Roit, so—"

The angel groaned long and covered his face, and then his ears.

"---After your tenth one of these, you proclaimed you wanted to ride into the sunset. (It was night by the way but it's not important to the story). Anyway—"

"Oh, no, no, no, mercy, Crowley, mercy...."

"—after you hopped a fence at a very swanky thoroughbred farm, you raced across the field to a stable. Quite spectacular performance. I was impressed—"

"Crowley, I'm begging you."

"---and some of these places can be like fortresses. But, blimey you ninjaed! So then, you disappear, I mean at this point I have no idea where you've gone. And then there's this racket, and a cry of 'Sally Forth!' and a sudden bolt of dark and light---"

By now the demon was laughing so hard he was rocking. Aziraphale started to huddle into himself, turning beat red. Crowley rolled over and pounded the ground, until the fit past and he was left wheezing.