The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 66: Sometimes it Takes a Crooner

Chapter 66: Sometimes it Takes a Crooner

It was late.

                It wasn't just "3 A.M. in the morning"-late. It was "feeling the age of the universe"-late, as if all the cosmos had wafted into the six feet between them, and absorbed into every material object within the bookshop, and filtering through bouncing molecules to solidify reality into one solid mass.

                Debilitating silence permeated the air. The residue of the dream clung to their bodies, froze their limbs, and numbed their minds.

                Aziraphale fought to work his mouth. "Crowley?"

                The demon flashed an unsettled look to him.

                "Did reality just...tweaked itself?"

                Crowley battled his dazed mind to search for an answer. His lips formed a perfect O. "Naw," he deliberated. "Naw, s'more like," he looked up, "we got taught a lesson. Vision-like...sort of thing."

                The angel's eyebrows raised. "V-vision-like?"

                The demon nodded, puzzled. He shrugged. "We did sound too coherent to be that soused."

                "Yes...Yes! Quite right. Quite...right."

"Sober as death now."

"The outcome of a flash bang."

"Um. Good...good analogy."

Gradually, Aziraphale drifted to over to orbit him. He inspected Crowley's back, looking him up and down in disbelief. Then he halted, and met his demon's owlish stare with his own. Pointing to the antique record player, he stated, "I'll just put some...ah...music on, shall I? Try to dissipate the, uh--"

                "Weird ethereal detritus? Yeah....go for it."

Crowley watched the angel nearly sleepwalk back and slip the needle to into the groove. Then as the notes rose up in the air, he tilted his head.

                "Funny. I didn't think you had The Righteous Brothers."

                "No," the angel answered, scratching his head.  "Neither one of us...uh.....listens to that sort of thing. Unchained Melody. Practically a lullaby." He looked over his shoulder, then turned. "Crowley?"

                "Yeah?"

                "Did you mean what you said?"

                "Not a word. Um, did you?"

                "Every word."

                "Ah." 

"Just not the tone."

"Um...funny...."

"I should have disclosed my dream."

"I should have disclosed my hunting."

They drew closer. Their eyes began to meander over one another's bodies.

Crowley uttered, "Start it from the beginning."

The angel turned his head as if listening for something. "What?"

"The record," Crowley reiterated. " Start it over. Please?"

Perplexed, the angel returned to the record and nudged the needle to the beginning.

(Woah, my love) He turned around. (My darling.) Crowley had stretched his arm out to him. (I've hungered for your touch) He took it, (A long) and was drawn in (Lonely time). 

As Crowley pressed him to his chest the violins rose up. (And time goes by). Aziraphale rested his head on the demon's shoulder. (So slowly). And they began to sway (And time) as Crowley placed his arm around the angel's waist (Can do so much) and led him in a partner dance. His lips rested lightly on the angel's head (Are you). They both closed their eyes, cradling into each other (Still mine?!?! I--) and letting the exhausted tears escape at last. (Need your love!!!!!)

Crowley lowered his face to the angel's shoulder and pressed in as they started to turn (I need your love). The angel's eye's opened, staring (God) full and wet (Speed your love) and rotated to the demon's resting head, his face writhing (To me). The lyrics paused, waiting for the instrumentals to catch up to the last beat, and the two beings turned again.

(Lonely rivers flow, to the sea, to the sea) Crowley's head fell back, his mouth opening wide. (To the open arms of the sea, yeah) The angel pulled away and kissed the hollow of the demon's long neck. (Lonely rivers sigh) Crowley's tears welled, and his lips struggled. And he mouthed with the words: "Wait for me, wait for me. I'll be coming home, wait for me!!"

There was no pause as the refrain came in, just the sudden entrance of the choir and the boom of the orchestra. The cymbals clashed. And to his alarm Aziraphale took the lead, resting his hand at the demon's slim hip and reversing their rotation. Crowley's head fell, his shining eyes questioning. Aziraphale smiled through his own tears, and sang over the recording:

"Woah, my love, my darling. I've hungered." His face screwed up, his weeping pronounced, "HUNGERED!!" and then his voice fell to a near inaudible whisper, "for your touch.
A long, lonely time." And as the piano hit a janky pitched key, he rested his lips on the demon's.

(And time goes by) Crowley returned it, his eyes creasing. (So slowly) Their mouths parted as the kiss worked its own dance back and forth, and like the song, hungry, until (Are you) Crowley pulled away (Still mine?!?!?!) and started sobbing on the angel's shoulder.

They turned as the piano banged out a repeat 1-2-3 rapidity, and the singer hit the highest cord of the song. (I ne-he-he-ed yor-hor loo-ove!!) As the words repeated plaintively, (I ne-he-he-ed yor-hor loo-ove!!) they folded into each other, (God-speed your love). and Aziraphale held the demon's neck. (To me-he-eh-eh).

The instruments ended nearly ten seconds after the vocals, and even after that they rotated through the slow paces of the dance, as if the music's mental echo had chased away the absolute solid misery of this gut-wrenching night.