David Tennant One-Shots/Preferences

Icebreakers and Bets - Anthony J Crowley

Based on a request by MistressOfBullshit! Thanks for all the support, angel! Part of the concept is based on a comic by A Well Kept Secret on Tapas, Tumblr and Patreon.

Also, 1.7K?! I did not think this would be my most popular story! Anyway, enjoy!

Dear God, you hated these.

Well, in all fairness, everyone hated these.

It was Warlock's 10th birthday. Except, by some strange coincidence, Brother Francis, Nanny Ashtoreth and Ms Hanielle were unavailable for the party.

That's because they had been summoned by their respective sides for the sixth millennial interdisciplinary icebreaker.

You hung back in the corner, taking occasional sips of the white wine in your hand.

You looked up at the oversized banner, which read:

'Welcome Celestial and Infernal Colleagues to the Sixth Millennial Interdisciplinary Icebreaker!!'
With 'By orders of our Holy Mother, hosted by the Humans of Cornwall' written underneath in smaller letters.

You rolled your eyes. Since when was cheap wine and demons trying to chat up angels part one of God's orders?

A hand brushed your shoulder, and you were fully prepared to smite whoever it was when a familiar voice whispered in your ear.

"Hello, angel."

You spun around, attempting to hide the smirk on your face. "Crowley. Fancy seeing you here."

His hair was just below his shoulders, curling on its own. He was now out of his Nanny attire and in his usual clothes.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "God, I've missed pockets. Why don't women get pockets?"

You shrugged, "How should I know? Not Heaven's idea, certainly."

He paused. "Oh. Right. Yeah. Might have been me. Sorry bout that."

You looked around at the crowds.

"It's strange, how much they're actually... mingling. Last time, the room was practically split in half."

"Well, don't know about your lot, but we've got a bit of a bet going on downstairs."

"A bet? What kind?"

He stepped behind you, pushing your hair off your shoulder. "They're betting... on who can get an angel into bed by the end of the night," He murmured, beginning to press open-mouthed kisses onto your neck.

"Hm... I wonder who'll win?" You teased.

His teeth grazed your shoulder. "Who indeed?"

You glanced around. "You might want to slow down. Half the demons here haven't even finished their pick-up lines yet."

He pulled away, using your hair to cover the faint mark he'd left. "You're right. How's the royal terror?"

"Gabriel is fine. Too distracted by Beelzebub throwing themself at him. Have you seen Aziraphale recently?"

"Nah. Not since he found the library." He stood infront of you. "What about you? Have you spoken to anyone?"

"Just a couple of angels. Muriel, mostly. Who are they with, over there? Do you recognise them?"

"Oh, that's Eric. They should be fine with him, he's not in on it."

"Good. I was afraid, for a moment. Muriel's a sweetheart, but they could be taken advantage of quite easily."