In which Jenna and Crowley Discuss Immortality

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Jenna was sick of crying. Sick of angels, demons, powers, blood and the color green. Sick of everything. Tired, too. So exhausted that when her empty stomach woke her up in the middle of the night with a severe growl, she ignored it and tried to fall back asleep.

Alas. The pangs of ravenous hunger unrelentingly gnawed at her insides, making sleep literally impossible. Groaning loudly, she threw the soft covers and duvet off herself, exited Aziraphale's guest room without turning on the light and carefully crept down the creaky wooden stairs.

Still half asleep, she wandered into the kitchen, snapped the light on and headed toward the fridge (which Aziraphale "miraculously" filled with bread, yogurt, fruits, veggies, milk, meat and other staples upon their return from Hell) when she heard a loud thud from the angel's office.

"Zira?" she whispered, hoping it was just her imagination. Another loud thud and some cursing clarified it was neither.

"Crowley?" asked Jenna in a normal tone, standing in the doorway of the office. The demon, who had been trying to repair a broken lamp and bronze statuette he had apparently knocked over, froze and stared at her like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights.

"Oh," he said, still hunched over the fragmented objects uncomfortably. "H-hi."

"Hi," she said awkwardly. "What are you still doing here? Why aren't you at your apar--flat?"

"Um," he stammered, finally straightening and biting his lip nervously. "I, uh, was, well, um....." His eyes flickered to an open bottle of wine sitting on the old wooden desk, half empty and very expensive-looking.

"Oh," she said, nodding. "I see. I'm sorry, carry on, I was just--"

"S-sorry I woke you up!" he blurted, slurring his words a bit and gripping the table for support. The expression on his face was priceless, as though he had just run over her beloved cat.

She shook her head and resisted the urge to laugh. "You didn't, my stupid stomach did," she corrected him, pointing at the culprit. "I was just gonna fix myself a snack when I heard you."

He nodded, biting his lip again. "Can I join you for a bit?" he asked suddenly, after an awkward pause. "After I sober up, of course."

She narrowed her eyes. "Won't that take hours?"

"No, it won't, actually!" he exclaimed a bit too loudly. "It's actually pretty cool. Watch." Crowley screwed his face up in intense concentration, his eyes tightly shut. Jenna gasped when she heard and saw burgundy wine slowly filling up the dark bottle.

"Ah, that's better," exhaled Crowley in a low steady voice, shaking his head slightly as he stretched a bit. His eyes seemed less blurry too as he focused on the cracked lamp and statuette before snapping his fingers and repairing the items instantly.

Jenna blinked. "So, you can remove alcohol from your body at will?"

"Yep!" he said brightly. "Sure beats having a hangover." He put his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight awkwardly. "Um...."

"I just want to say I'm so sorry for lashing out at you and Zira today," Jenna blurted out, her eyes wide and anxious. "I hurt others emotionally when I get upset, which I hate about myself, especially since I directed it at you two. Yet again," she added, rolling her eyes at herself. "You're both so wonderful and are doing so much for me, and I repay you by freaking out about something that should have made me happy." She took a deep breath and looked down in shame. "I'm just so sorry," she finished softly, gripping the sides of her long white pajama shirt with her fingers.

Crowley hesitated, unsure if he should keep his distance or not. Things had been a bit awkward after their impromptu kiss in Hell only 34 hours and 23 minutes ago (yes, he'd been keeping track), as neither of them had had any time to discuss it. Once Aziraphale and Jenna had safely and secretly departed Hell (Crowley stayed behind to inform the infernal agents of Hastur's whereabouts and felonies), they immediately returned to the angel's bookshop, where Jenna had remained for almost two days.

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