Disclaimer: For Terry, because Neil... Neil. What the hell, Neil?
Crowley, with long red hair styled in elaborate curls, wearing a black dress with a long skirt and large shoulder pads, and a fur coat so oversized it looks like an Ikea rug, discreetly takes a swig of vodka because she's bloody freezing in the damn December of nineteen sixteen, in Russia, tucked away in a corner of the ballroom of Tsar Nicholas II's palace while discreetly scanning for her target once again.
Honestly, she's fed up with hell; waking her up after a century for this crap... Maybe we could search for the target a bit closer to the fireplace. And how about we crank up the fire a bit, damn it? The flames reflect in her sunglasses as if she just poured half a litre of gasoline on them.
Let's see... she pulls out the photo they've given her again. Who the hell gets these eerie, cool photos taken in the dark in a gloomy room with black walls and dark curtains, no candles, everyone dressed in black, and at bloody midnight?
She holds it closer to the fire and lowers her sunglasses a bit to see it because they might not be helping much... a man with long hair, long beard, and huge moustaches. Basically, you are looking for hair, Crowley.
Hair... hair, hair, hair, hair... this would be easier if she could move more freely around the room. Ugh. Besides, she wants to finish already and go back to London where at least it only rains, and it's not thirteen thousand degrees below zero. Maybe near where the food is?
With a discreet little white beard, dressed in a white suit with a fur cape over it, a glass in hand, and nibbling on the tenth of these delicious caviar sandwiches, Aziraphale is watching from the other side of the room, trying to blend in and failing quite miserably as always.
Heaven's photo is quite different and perfect, taken in daylight and in colour. What's more, he looks a bit young, even handsome. And Aziraphale doesn't think ANYONE here looks like that. He only sees someone mysterious and somewhat hairy near the tsar, who definitely isn't the man from his photo.
Crowley approaches the buffet with a few hops because her cute little boots with heels are very nice but not as furry and thick as SOMEONE SHOULD'VE WARNED HER THEY SHOULD BE. Spinning around herself and clumsily dodging obstacles, she accidentally bumps into Aziraphale with her rear.
"Ohhh..."
"Ugh, watch where you're... " the demon begins in Russian, turning around, but her sentence cuts short as she realizes who it is.
Aziraphale blinks because that voice and tone...
"Y-You..." she blinks about twenty-six times, recognizing him instantly.
"C-Crowley?" Aziraphale tilts his head.
"Shhh!" she protests, putting a finger to her lips when he says her name because she's supposed to be incognito. "What are you doing here?"
"W-Well, I have a mission. What are you doing here?!"
"I... also have a mission. Why are we both freezing our asses off here instead of using the agreement?"
"Because you... Weren't you in hell?" or in other words: You left for good and abandoned me like a dog in the rain about a thousand years ago. Drama, drama, drama.
"Ugh. What? No, damn it," she squints. "I was sleeping."
"You still shouldn't be talking to me, I have something very delicate on my hands," the angel responds, rolling his eyes because what a crappy excuse is "I was sleeping" as if we're talking about a couple of days ago and not a whole century.
"Apparently nothing lasts forever..." she sighs, dramatizing it as well, and then turns to him sarcastically. "Oh. Do YOU have something very delicate on your hands?"
"Yes."
"Well, go handle it over there," she points with her hands to the other side of the room. "I'm looking for someone here."
"So am I. Who are you looking for?"
"You wouldn't know who it is," she looks around again searching for the hair. Aziraphale huffs a bit.
"Well, regardless, please don't interrupt my activities or rat me out."
"Mmmm..." she looks at him again. "What do you have to do?"
"I have a very special mission from heaven. I must dispose of a particularly dangerous villain."
"Dispose of?"
The angel glances at her sideways, looking quite uncomfortable suddenly because of what that means.
"Isn't there, like, a super important commandment about disposing of people? Like the second or something?"
"It's the fifth," he blushes a little. "But this is an exceptional case."
"The fifth? Really? The... fifth? Are there four before that?" she asks all surprised. "One would think it would be a bit more important than that. Well, who is it?"
"Well, there are... I don't think they're necessarily in order of importance. Uh... it's a crazy monk."
"A crazy monk... I'm going after a womanizing heretic leader of a sect. It doesn't make much sense, but I prefer not to ask too many questions since it always works out well for me."
"A... heretic?"
"Look," she shows him the photo. "If you see him, let me know. Whether in person or in the darkness of the image," she complains.
"Ohh! Ugh, I think I've seen him around. Mine is this one," he shows his and takes Crowley's. "Although it's hard to tell. I mean, they couldn't have given you a worse photo."
Crowley takes Aziraphale's photo and looks at it, lowering her sunglasses a bit. Someone pushes them a bit while passing between them.
"Uh... privet," Aziraphale greets the one who passed by. Or I don't know if he wanted to apologize and got the word wrong.
"It's the same guy!" Crowley exclaims after cursing a bit at the one who passed by, taking the photo from Aziraphale to compare them.
"What? Of course not!"
"Look at him," she shows them both, turning them towards him. She notices that behind both of them is the same ridiculous word in the different handwriting of heaven and hell, "Rasputin."
"Well, I see. It's just... not even the age..." he turns them. "Ohhh."
"It's the same guy," she insists, moving a bit closer to him to let someone pass.
"But... " he lets her get a little closer to him. "Why would heaven and hell want to get rid of the same man?"
"I have no idea, he must have done something big. Have you heard anything about him?"
"Actually, from what I had heard before... I thought he was someone I might want to meet and maybe he would be one of those interesting individuals I'd want to get to know."
"I just know he's been throwing orgies and apparently he's banging the queen of Russia or whatever, that's why I came as a woman."
"Tsarina."
"What?"
"The queen of Russia, she's the Tsarina. There are no kings in Russia, they're Tsars."
"Well, whatever." Crowley gestures disinterestedly because if she has to learn everyone's names, they're screwed.
"Honestly, you'd be doing me a favor if you..." Aziraphale begins because of the fifth commandment and if hell is killing people, that's one thing, but heaven...
"I don't plan on sleeping with him, this is just bait!" she protests, thinking he's referring to being a woman.
"You're going to get rid of him!" he protests, finishing the sentence.
"Oh. Well, that's why I'm here, but I plan on taking credit for it myself, because we're each on our own here," she responds, still a bit sore about the holy water incident.
"No one will know if I..."
"No, if I do it, I'm going to say it was me, and this one's from hell. And I don't know if they'll check or not, but if we both have the same mission..." They're about to be pushed again. Aziraphale holds onto her a bit, squeezing his eyes shut. "Ugh, let's get out of here."
"Okay, okay. Let's see if we can come up with a plan."
Crowley looks around to see where she can take him without being pushed, and well... The dance floor seems to be the best place.
"Okay, don't get nervous, just do what everyone else does," she requests, taking his hand and pulling him over there, putting her other hand on his shoulder.
"Where are you taking...?" he gets nervous AUTOMATICALLY.
"Let's see..." she looks at the others so she doesn't have to look at him, truth be told, a little embarrassed, and counts. "M-Move a bit and try not to step on me."
"This... we shouldn't be doing this, they might notice!" he protests, scandalized, looking around.
"Sure, I'm sure everyone will be scandalized that we're dancing... at a BALL," she replies sarcastically, pushing him a bit to move, because she expected this would happen.
"But it's you!" he looks at her again, nervous.
"No one here knows me, I'm incognito," she smiles sideways.
"I am too. In fact, I'm a..." he lowers his voice and smiles a bit because this always excites him a little. "Spy."
Crowley raises an eyebrow, stopping a bit and looking at him like that. Aziraphale proceeds to look away and decides to start moving himself, accidentally stepping on her foot.
"Bloody hell!" she protests, moving again.
"Sorry!"
"Since when do you... " she suddenly notices. "Follow the rhythm? Dance even a little."
"Ahh... that matter," he blushes, looking away, not answering. She looks at him, still moving. "What's wrong?"
"I was expecting an explanation, but okay. Back to the target..."
"Aha? We need to focus."
"We need to find him."
"I've been focused on finding him for a while, but there's no one who looks like my photo and a lot of people who look like the black blob in yours."
Crowley leans a bit closer, getting closer to look over his shoulder.
"Do you see him or not?" Aziraphale glances at her sideways.
Actually, Crowley turns her face towards him and suddenly feels much closer to him than she should, taking a step back, blushing.
Aziraphale turns towards her for a second when he sees her stepping back, actually taking a step towards her because... that's how the dance goes, she's the expert!
She blushes a bit more, taking another step back, and there goes the other idiot.
"Uh... uhm... uh... ngk," she's trying to say something, really. No one knows what, not even her. But something.
"Is everything alright?"
"Ah... yes, yes. Of course. Yes. Great," If she's not deathly worried about demons, she can still figure out what's going on, that's what happens.
"You got nervous," Aziraphale blinks.
"Ah... uhm... N-No..." her heart is racing like it's going to burst, but who doesn't have chronic tachycardia after vodka?
"Has something happened? Spin me."
"Me? You're the man!"
"I... Ugh. Okay, okay. You're the demon, you're the one dancing," he's going to spin her.
"You're still not telling me where you got this from," Crowley blinks, stepping back a bit and holding onto him as he spins her because he's supposed to be spinning her!
"The picture?" What he wanted was to see!
"The dance."
"A-Ah... that. You were... I don't know where."
"Mhm..." she glances at him and sighs, looking around again.
"And I... well, one..."
Crowley glances at him sideways, stopping the search, since she doesn't see very well with her sunglasses anyway. She doesn't know how he expects to find anyone, blind as David Tennant and bumping into furniture like an idiot.
"I joined a gentlemen's club to learn to dance," he whispers with a small mouth.
"You wot?" she raises her eyebrows definitely not expecting that answer.
"There's nothing wrong with it," he defends.
Crowley's jaw drops, she might even stop moving, quite impressed, a little smile creeping onto her face.
"What?" Aziraphale blushes a bit.
The demon smiles and shakes her head because... it's amusing to her that he went to learn to dance when angels don't... don't dance, and she imagines him taking ballroom dancing lessons, with lots of couples, all very pompous, and being a general disaster.
"I-I guess it's good to have new hobbies and people to socialize with," even so, they're still a bit sore.
"It's useful, they were all very nice guys. We danced the Gavotte."
"I have no idea what that is."
"Look, it's danced like this," he actually starts hopping.
Crowley lets go of him, taking a step back so he doesn't step on her, and he keeps going, dancing out of time with the music.
"Okay... okay, okay, stop. You're attracting too much attention," she requests nervously, reaching out to him.
"It's beautiful, I was very good at it!" he assures, so proud of himself. Come on, tell him no and break his heart.
"Ah... I'm sure you were, like all performing arts, but... this isn't the music," she continues, sarcastic, taking his hand and shoulder again.
Aziraphale smiles at that performing arts thing. So proud, not catching the sarcasm at all.
Crowley is smiling, excusing herself to everyone with a look of "No, I swear my partner doesn't have the demon inside him. Yet. I wish he did, but no. Um. He has severe infantile epileptic schizophrenia. Look it up in the encyclopedia."
What are you talking about?!
About your super fluid and coordinated movements, clearly.
Ñañaña. Aziraphale half-hugs her again around the waist, keeping his distance.
"So... a gentlemen's club" yes, she wants to know more about it and at the same time it irritates me to know more about it.
"A very interesting gentlemen's club. Very exclusive."
"In London?"
"Yes."
Crowley makes a face because she expected him to say something like "Yes, they opened it across the street and they kept interrupting my reading with shouts and music and drunks, so I had to go and give them a strong recommendation about silence and good manners and they dragged me like a hurricane" or something like that.
"It was recommended to me by some boys from the church. I don't know why they thought I might be interested in learning to dance."
"Ah, very well... and is it far away?" what we want is to know where it is so we can go in a non-toxic and guilt-inducing way to spy, Angel, concentrate on the plan!
"Far from where? It's not in a very nice area, actually."
"Well, from the bookshop. Don't you have the bookshop already?" she tilts her head, because she liked the bookshop, although she will never admit it and she will assure anyone who asks that it was a bottomless pit of crap, ruin, desolation, and chaos. The perfect definition of a hellhole.
"Ahh, no, I do have it" he smiles a little and then frowns. "It's just that I haven't seen you in a long time."
"Yes, well... I guess I may have overdone it a bit with sleeping. It's just that you start and... you know? It's hard to stop."
"A BIT? Mhhhh... I thought you had gone back to hell, I thought you had gotten the holy water and died! I even asked Gabriel!"
"Ugh" she protests, because that's how hell should have found out. "What would Gabriel know?!"
"Well, if they changed hell's correspondent or not. He knows these things."
"Sure, sure..." she bites his lip.
"Well, the thing is, at this club they taught you to dance. Maybe you should go there to learn to dance too" he suggests, so happily.
"Ah..." be smart, Crowley, don't tell him that anything he likes is surely boring and old-fashioned, even though you know it is. This is about curiosity anyway and if you tell him that, he won't tell you anything. "I could come by one day to see, why not? Is it by invitation?" she says, feigning little interest.
"Yes, but I could recommend you. I'm an honorary member."
"Honorary... member. Uh. Well, when we return to London, then."
"Okay, you just have to be a guy again."
"I've already told you that this is just a lure because they told me this guy is very interested in women."
"Okay, okay... fine. I'm just saying they don't let women in under any circumstances."
"Why not?" she raises an eyebrow because they don't dance in pairs then.
"Well, I don't know, those are the rules" he shrugs.
"And how do you dance then?" she tilts her head.
"How?"
"The ballroom dances. They're in pairs."
"Ah, yes" he nods.
"How do you do it without women? Does one play the... girl's part and that's it?"
"We all dance together."
"A-All together" don't ask him about sodomy. Don't ask him about sodomy. Don't. Ask. Him. About. Sodomy. "And did you meet anyone interesting?"
"Ah! Yes... Many charming guys. They were all very nice and funny."
"Oh, really?" raised eyebrow.
"Well, generally, yes. One was always dancing and laughing."
"And you don't go with them anymore?"
"Not much, no... they've grown up."
"Ah, so the point is that they are young."
"No, it's not that they are young. It's just that... none of them dance anymore."
"And do you like to dance?"
"Well, in this place, yes."
"I guess they must be too intellectual for you in everything else" she smiles a little because she's trying to annoy him.
"Too intellectual!?" the indignation. "Why would they be TOO intellectual? Do you think I'm not intellectual?"
"I think that if what you like is dancing... it's a less... mental activity."
"If I do intellectual activities you accuse me of being boring, but if I dance you accuse me of being unintellectual" he continues to protest.
Crowley smiles. Aziraphale looks into her eyes and she smiles more.
The angel blushes a little without noticing it and the demon blinks slowly, getting lost in his eyes because if they haven't seen each other in a long time, even if she hasn't noticed it.
And there they are, a few seconds in silence. Aziraphale feeling warm in the heart, because he missed her. Crowley swallows, because she was very angry the last time they saw each other but now she doesn't know why.
The angel doesn't even know how long it has been since he last saw her, but it was A LOT.
The demon returns to smile a bit more sincerely, and love escapes her. Aziraphale takes a breath, feeling it a bit unexpectedly. Had he forgotten that this happened around her? He had forgotten how much he liked it when it did.
Still, as their movements slow down, someone is going to bump into them and snap them out of the trance.
Ugh!
"When is it...? Fuck!" protests Crowley.
"For God's sake!"
"Wait, wait, Look!" she exclaims and points over his shoulder... then takes his hand again to spin him around. "Look, there with the two soldiers."
"Ohhh... that one... That one!"
"Let's go, let's get closer. Discreetly."
"Discreetly, got it..." I can imagine...
Crowley takes him by the waist now, leading him closer, pretending to dance, avoiding the other couples. It's not necessarily a discreet move, but it'll do - this is what we needed, thank you -
"Is that him?"
"W-Well... um... I'd say perhaps."
Crowley gives him a look because he sees better, come on! She's wearing sunglasses!
"Well, then... that's it, thank you" the demon decides, stopping.
"That's... what?"
"I mean, I'm going to do my job, that's why I came here."
Aziraphale blinks because he was expecting... well, teamwork. Stupidly. He shouldn't have expected that, how were they supposed to be a team? Ugh.
"Finally!"
"Yes, I mean you surely have all those other people to fraternize with without feeling guilty. The... club gentlemen, apparently. I don't see many here, but maybe one will show up."
"Obviously, none will come here" Aziraphale glances at her.
"Good for them, with this fucking cold" she says, adjusting her coat again and pulling out the flask to take another swig of her vodka.
"What are you drinking?"
"Certainly not holy water" she hands it to him, without looking.
"Ah, we're still on that."
"Yes, we're still on that. Of course we're still on that" she protests, looking at him while still offering the flask.
"Crowley..." he tries again, softer, taking the flask.
She lets him keep it or take the vodka, trying not to think about the indirect kiss in this anticlimactic moment and blushes a bit with that anyway. Then she turns around to go find the idiot human she has to kill.
He takes a sip and coughs a bit because he thought it was something else.
She smiles and makes an effort not to turn around to look at him. You have to be cool, Crowley. There's nothing cooler than walking away from an explosion without looking back. Pretend you don't care or find it cute that he's choking. Tap, tap, tap, tap towards the heretic.
"Ugh... this is very strong" he hands her the flask back, but she's not there anymore, she's with the soldiers and military, who would later turn out to be the two grand dukes Dmitri Pavlovich and Nikolai Mikhailovich, whom Crowley doesn't recognize out of stubbornness, because we don't research for missions.
"Oh..." Aziraphale raises her eyebrows, moving a bit to stop being in the spotlight.
Crowley starts flirting with Rasputin as best as she can, laughing at something she didn't understand and touching his shoulder.
Aziraphale frowns a bit automatically, making a soldier approach them. Truth be told, she's going to try to get rid of him or flirt with him too.
The angel isn't sure why this bothers him, certainly it seems like Crowley is acting on behalf of hell.
Crowley glances at him, smiling with a... I'm going to pull this off better than you look.
A few soldiers approach them again, by the miracle of heaven and the demon gets a bit overwhelmed with this and decides to make a joke to the heretic to get him out of there.
A joke! Ugh. Aziraphale keeps an eye on them from a distance. They laugh a bit and indeed it seems like they're pointing to the exit of the hall.
Aziraphale frowns, because damn it, everything seems to be going well for the demon! HE was supposed to be the one to kill him, not let hell take ALL the credit.
Another hand motion and it's Prince Yusupov from the royal family who approaches Rasputin to ask him to have a drink with him at his house with his wife, Duchess Irina Alexandrovna. He agrees after hesitating, because someone had sent him a warning note, but Crowley insists on going too, smiling and assuring that she has never tasted the alcohol of these lands, so off they go.
Well, I recommend you don't taste that... since it's poisoned. The demon looks at the angel out of the corner of her eye and makes a small greeting gesture as they leave, laughing falsely at something they say.
Aziraphale narrows his eyes and discreetly follows them and all the military paraphernalia as they go out to look for a horse-drawn carriage.
A carriage! But weren't they going to have something to drink? He had to drink it and poison himself! What happened?!
They're going to do it somewhere else, not in the czar's palace for everyone to see!
Ugh... fine, fine. Uhm... they're going to look for two carriages. When Crowley sees the second carriage, she looks around discreetly and relaxes a bit because she was feeling a bit uncomfortable with this.
The angel gets into the other carriage alone. All alone because Crowley doesn't want to work with him. Well, okaaay.
Well, he doesn't want to work with Crowley. She asked for just one thing. Just one. But we're not going to make a drama about it again.
It's a VERY dangerous thing, it's not that he didn't give it to her because he's mean. She could disappear FOREVER.
It's also very dangerous to get involved at the beginning of a revolution to kill one of the leaders and friends of the royal house and here they are, freezing their butts off, wandering around the city, and laughing falsely at Russian jokes.
They don't take long to stop in front of a large and beautiful house and Crowley can't help but notice that one of the soldiers seems to be hypnotized, and the other carriage is following them. In fact, she has to perform some miracles with the streets and traffic so that they don't lose sight of them.
Yes, yes, it's highly dangerous, but one thing disincarnates you and the other DISAPPEARS YOU FOREVER.
She doesn't do it if you use it well and carefully. Does he know he's so unbearable that he thinks she'll use it to kill herself and not endure him? Because she could, and no judge would convict her after knowing the angel for fifteen minutes.
Nobody... Ugh! Nobody has said that, idiot!
Anyway... the horses of the second carriage miraculously seem to be very attentive tonight and stop behind the other carriage, while the soldiers pay the coachman.
Nobody seems to notice Aziraphale much when they get off... thanks to a bunch of miracles, definitely. Although coincidentally, the demon does notice... you're quite selective with your miracles.
Crowley smiles when she sees the light-colored coat and hat that accompany him, turning back to the heretic, they're talking about something unexpected guests that have the lady of the house busy or something like that, how complicated humans are. They've also talked about a sweet wine called Tokaj that is giving her more hope.
The good part is that as a woman, she only has to pretend to be an idiot and move her hips a bit, and everyone believes her... and both things come naturally to her.
The pretending part...
Yes. PRETENDING.
Okay, okay, whatever you say.
In the end, they enter the house, leaving the angel outside, although the door won't miraculously be closed because blaaaank eyes. There's no one in the world we're more indulgent with than a certain little angel.
Don't call him that. He enters... very stealthily and feeling like a spy.
They go down some stairs to a room in the basement of the house and the fireplaces miraculously catch fire as if this were bloody hell as soon as someone thinks of a tinder near them. Ha-ha, yes, the wood must be super dry and it lit up... like that. Oh, yes, you're very good with fire, hahaha. Damn cold here.
It helps that you're a demon. Aziraphale keeps making miracles so they don't see or hear him, clearly... although he's about to be caught several times EVEN WITH THE MIRACLES because he's always in the middle of the way because he's also just PRETENDING to be an idiot.
Soon they bring the wine and some cakes, ready to sit down to talk about the revolution. Crowley decides to stay standing, discreetly, at the back, near the fireplace, please, trying not to laugh that Aziraphale is in the way every time he moves to a new place.
Well, it's just... It's hard to go unnoticed, for God's sake.
She looks for his gaze and gestures for him to approach. There he goes, being careful not to make noise.
"Hey..." she smiles sideways without looking directly at him.
"Uh... hello!"
"You managed to see the show."
"Or to make it" he looks at her from the corner of his eye.
"Those people poisoned the cake that just came out, look at the way he's looking at it. One more moment and he'll eat it and... it'll be done, victory for hell."
"Ugh" he hesitates a bit because he doesn't want hell to win. Maybe if he just poisoned himself with the wine and not with the cake, they could take credit for it.
Rasputin definitely looks at the cake with eyes of love because it's his favorite. He's going to take a piece from the tray they brought it with. If you're going to do something, hurry because he's going to eat it as if... well, as if it were you with a piece of cake.
Crowley smiles more when Rasputin opens his mouth and brings the cake almost in slow motion because this is already done. Aziraphale makes a very subtle hand movement, the very cynic.
Crowley doesn't notice it and Rasputin savors his little cake with delight, really as if it were Aziraphale with a crepe.
Too much obsession with how Rasputin resembles Aziraphale eating. Does she want us to leave her alone with Rasputin?
She's been here before, in the carriage, and it's been quite disastrous. The nobles also look at Rasputin with interest, all thinking that he's going to drop dead any minute now, but he's still happily eating his cake, talking about the revolution with his mouth full.
Aziraphale puts on his best angelic face. I mean, none at all.
Crowley blinks a bit because... how slow is this poison? He should be convulsing on the floor and foaming at the mouth by now. They promised her foam!
The nobles look at each other, maybe that piece didn't have poison? But how could it not have it?
Are you sure you brought the bottle with Rasputin's poison?
Oh, right. The poison. The poison for Rasputin, the poison chosen especially to kill Rasputin, Rasputin's poison. That poison?.
Of course, that poison!
Crowley squints and looks at Aziraphale from the corner of her eye.
Dun dun duuuun. Aziraphale even smiles a bit, the idiot.
"It was you!"
"W-What?!" Aziraphale snaps out of it, his smile fading.
"You... saved him. Or healed him or whatever! What's wrong with you?! We could have gone home by now!"
"I haven't... I mean... well. Look, the worst thing that could happen is that when they bring him the wine..."
"No!"
"Why not? Last time, you took all the credit! In fact, this is your fault for not saying we could both take it."
"It's a twenty thousand rupees Tokaj, it's not like you mix it with lemon juice or poison or any cocktail you can think of!"
"Rubles, they're rubles. And it's not a cocktail!"
"Whatever! It's the same concept!"
"So, since when are you so concerned about making this guy happy!?"
"I just want to kill him!"
"Kill him while you give him his favorite cake and get offended if I make sure the drink doesn't taste good to him!"
"Because I was going to drink that wine!"
"It's not even wine, it's a distilled spirit" Rolls eyes.
"That doesn't mean I didn't want to drink it!"
Aziraphale snaps his fingers and produces a glass of the drink in his hand, offering it to Crowley, who stares at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Here you go!"
"Miss" Rasputin calls her at the same time. "Weren't you going to taste the wine?"
"Ha!"
Crowley looks away towards the heretic... and doesn't take Aziraphale's glass but instead goes over there.
"Ugh!"
The soldiers tense up a bit because the wine was already poisoned too, but well, another dead prostitute, and foreign at that, won't make much difference to them.
Aziraphale squints his eyes and... waits a bit to see what Crowley does.
So, she snaps his fingers and then drinks the wine, because it's not the time to start shouting like idiots and shrinking down just to end up doing a good deed the size of the Eiffel Tower.
Aziraphale also snaps his fingers just in case, and let's say that the drink ends up being the least poisoned and most pure drink in the history of drinks (not blessed... at least). So now the wine doesn't even have alcohol. Yay.
Rasputin toasts with Crowley and truth be told, when they drink it, it tastes bad, making funny faces.
The Russians smile with those faces they make, surely he'll die now!
Rasputin asks for the wine bottle because it tastes weird, maybe something was added to it or it went bad...?
The soldiers don't respond, expecting him to drop dead at any moment. Corpse.
Aziraphale raises his eyebrows in concern. Could it be that he didn't remove the poison properly?
But seconds pass... Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Rasputin keeps looking at them, puzzled. Crowley rolls her eyes at Aziraphale and no one drops dead...
"You're insufferable," she assures what seems to be an empty space in the room. Rasputin also looks at her, unsure who she's talking to and in English, no less.
"Me? Where...? What are you doing drinking that?"
"It's a mission, Aziraphale. I have to play along..." she assures, and the nobles tense up at that, standing up. Rasputin also tenses up because of the word "mission" and everyone being tense...
"What mission?" Rasputin asks Crowley. "Who are you talking to?"
"Well, I'm not saying you shouldn't play along, but..."
"I have to play along, this is a merit for hell," Crowley snaps her fingers and the next thing that happens is one of the soldiers pulls out his gun as if triggered by a spring and shoots Rasputin in the chest, out of fear.
Aziraphale raises his eyebrows and... miraculously, Rasputin takes the bullet impact, but the bullet bounces off his chest and inexplicably falls to the ground. Rasputin staggers and touches his chest, convinced he's dead, searching for blood with his hands... which isn't coming from anywhere.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" protests Crowley.
"Well!" another guard pulls out the gun and now shoots him in the head.
"Aziraphale!" she protests and snaps her fingers, making the bullet DISAPPEAR when it's INSIDE the brain.
"Crowley!"
"Don't call me 'Criwliiiiy' like that," she mocks him. "You started this!"
"This is your fault for wanting to take all the credit!"
The soldiers are looking at the guns with scared faces because they don't understand what's happening, and Rasputin keeps feeling himself for blood, also hallucinating because HE FELT THE BULLETS.
"It's hell's merit! If you hadn't intervened, we would have left already! What harm would it have done to lie a little and say that YOU put the poison in the bloody cake?"
"Well, you said you wanted to take it yourself and that I couldn't say it!"
"Since when do you put what I say in your reports?"
"Well... generally..."
"Generally what?"
"You said NO because you're angry!"
Rasputin decides to stop trying to make sense of all this and gets up to run. The soldiers take a moment to notice, but then follow him.
"Of course, I was angry, because you... oh... fuck!" she protests when she realizes they're leaving and grabs Aziraphale's hand to run after the soldiers in a commotion.
Aziraphale huffs because... this is exactly what he feared. Running! More shots are heard as they climb the stairs, and when they reach the top, there's a pool of blood with Rasputin on top of it.
Crowley stops Aziraphale at the stair door as soon as she sees him.
"Ohhh... What have you done now?" the angel protests.
"Ehm..." she hesitates a bit while the soldiers blink and decide that... finally, it was about time. "Look, the good part is that we can leave now. It wasn't you, it wasn't me. We both lied, and everything is balanced as always," she shrugs as the soldiers go for some sheets.
"Wait... Azrael should come for him," he continues, looking around and searching for the said person.
"Who?" she glances at him.
"The angel of death. He or one of his guys should come for him."
"What the... what?" she looks around for another angel.
"That happens every time there's a dead person..." Aziraphale continues solemnly, looking at the soldiers making a bundle with Rasputin.
"A... You think... Does it mean he hasn't... yet...?" the demon looks at Aziraphale, uncomfortable.
"Well, he's not here!"
The soldiers carry the bundle like that... slung over their shoulder outside.
"We have to follow them!" Crowley exclaims, frustrated with all of this.
"Yes, I think that would be best," Aziraphale agrees.
Suddenly, one of the soldiers looks at both of them because the prostitute isn't screaming as one would expect, and the other... he's pretty sure wasn't there before.
"Who are you two?" he asks in Russian, frowning.
"T-Two?" Aziraphale raises his eyebrows, not expecting him to see her for the miracle he did earlier.
"I'm... uhm... a friend of Duchess Alexandra... Uhm... Iri... well, her. This is her house, right?" Crowley recalls what they said in the car.
"That's right," Aziraphale agrees.
"And you?" he asks Aziraphale because he can see him now, I guess it would be very weird if Crowley was there talking to someone like that so the soldier's brain has decided to ignore his miracle of not being there, since OBVIOUSLY she is there.
"John..." the angel makes up, looks around, and sees the staircase going up. "Scale" be thankful he didn't say John Doe.
The soldier furrows his brow at that response because who the heck is John Scale? And what's a foreigner doing here?
"H-He's... from..." Crowley hesitates too because what the hell kind of name is that? Searching for something to make up. "The British Secret Service. Foreign intelligence, which obviously isn't much, but he was also involved in this whole business of killing the heretic Rambutan.
Rasputin!
That's what she said!
It is not!
"Ugh. Right" Aziraphale nods, squeezing his eyes. The soldier squints a little because all of this is a bit...
"Well, let's go, we're in a hurry. We have to go drown that poor man in the river or something to see if there's something that actually kills him once and for all!" Crowley protests, trying to leave after the others.
"As long as he really dies, I don't care" Aziraphale goes along with her, nodding.
The soldier looks at them, and truth be told... they seem to be part of the conspiracy even though they're weird as hell... and foreigners. He decides to go with them since they seem to cooperate and it's easier than taking them by force.
Oh, boy... You come, just don't complain if you wake up in Australia.
They all get into the carts, with the "corpse" to take him to the river, and there are some moments of uncomfortable silence as they arrive. "It's turning out to be a nice afternoon, isn't it? Not so cold anymore. Now that I have a minute, I need to pee, the cold makes me want to... By the way, what are you guys going to do after this? Have a little party or something?"
Crowley tightens her fur coat and glares at anyone who thinks the weather isn't that bad. Damn Russians are INSANE. Especially from the perspective of a cold-blooded snake. Where's the vodka?
Aziraphale apparently did the miracle of not feeling cold today.
In your pocket! Oh, no. In Aziraphale's.
Crowley glances at him remembering he kept it, blushing at the idea of reaching into his pockets and feeling around to find the flask. She furrows her brow more, looking out the window, refraining from doing so.
Then don't say Aziraphale doesn't give opportunities.
Oh, come on!
Well, finally the cart stops for everyone to get off.
Aziraphale gets off first because he's closest to the door.
Don't hold the door or it will burn you.
Not holding the door because it burns... indeed.
The others get off, with him... or rather, despite him.
Cut the drama! Aziraphale looks at Crowley, who approaches because there's even snow here, for all the demons, what's wrong with this infernal place?!
It seems more heavenly than infernal because of the colour...
But the discomfort.
Yeah, that's true, that's true. The soldiers lower the pseudo-corpse... And he starts moving when they leave him on the ground, causing everyone to let out some super manly screams and someone else to shoot him point-blank out of panic.
And now, Azrael in person... just because Aziraphale mentioned him earlier, is the one who appears to take the soul away, without even looking at how he died or who's around.
Crowley. Rolling her eyes at herself, she hides behind Aziraphale so Azrael doesn't see her and it seems like this is the angel's merit.
Actually, Azrael doesn't notice whether she's there or not... buuut Aziraphale notices that she does, smiling a little.
The soldiers throw the corpse into the river, and it gets caught on some rocks. They have to kick it a couple of times before it finally gets carried away by the icy current. Which apparently isn't bad because they would have thrown it from the bridge seven times if necessary to make it look like he fell from the seventh floor.
"Thank goodness" Crowley protests as they watch them try to dislodge the corpse with sticks, not helping in the slightest. "The first thing I'm going to do when I get home is to buy a car. And then I'll take a hot bath until I'm about to melt."
"A car?"
"A new one. With an engine. I saw one out the window while we were coming."
"Ugh... they make so much noise."
"And they go very fast. Do you want me to take you somewhere when I get it? To... the club?"
"Ohh... right, you wanted to go. Can't we just go in a normal horse-drawn carriage?"
"Remember when you said you'd never get into a horse-drawn carriage because of the poor animals? And that people weren't meant to go so fast?"
"Well... I still think so!"
"And now we use them every time we have to go to the corner apparently," Crowley gets into the horse-drawn carriage while the others tinker with the corpse. I'm afraid those bastards are going to take the cart and leave them all there. She extends her hand to Aziraphale.
"Thank you" Aziraphale looks at her hand for a moment and takes it, smiling a little.
"Ngk!" she protests, because don't thank him, she's not nice! Still, she pulls him up, helping him get in, and tells the coachman to take them to the station.
"Well, I see that horses aren't so bad when they have to pull carts. And it's much more comfortable than riding them" he assures, looking at her and... snapping his fingers to do the same miracle he has so he does to not feel cold. A little angelic thank you.
She sighs in relief at that.
"So, do you want me to take you to the club then?" he asks, making conversation, looking at her.
"If there's no other choice" she shrugs because the trick is that nothing interests us too much. Rolling her eyes.
"Well... come to the bookshop someday, if you want..."
"Alright, which day do you go?"
"I used to go on Thursdays. Lately, I've been going less, but yeah. They're not dancing the Gavotte anymore, now they dance more modern stuff."
"And you don't like those?"
"I liked the Gavotte more."
"How can you stay stuck in the past even with something you chose to do?"
"Well, I chose to dance the Gavotte, not... other things. Even when they started dancing Reel, it was okay, but now they're... bringing in new people who play the trumpet and start doing things that are TOO modern."
"You don't like the trumpet? Isn't the trumpet like the heavenly instrument by definition that all angels can play by grace and providence for divine fanfares on the most trivial events happening in heaven?"
"Exactly because of that, it's just... the trumpet for things like a dance doesn't make sense. And we also know how to play the harp."
Rolling eyes from the demon.
"Ah... it feels so good to successfully finish the workday" he takes out Crowley's flask and hands it to her. "Can you dance all those things?"
"I... of course" not. She takes the flask anyway and takes another sip.
"Do they dance every afternoon in hell or how do they know how to dance everything?"
"I haven't even been to hell in like a hundred years. Literally."
"Oh... really? At one point, I thought you moved to hell."
"Nah, I just overdid it sleeping."
He looks at her sideways because that... sounds a little better than everything he had imagined and she shrugs and looks at him, smiling.
"Where could you sleep for a hundred years without being woken up?"
"I have a flat in London."
"Oh... for a hundred years?"
"I convinced hell that it was essential to have one to live on earth."
"Well, essential is a bit of a stretch."
"That's exactly what I said."
"And nothing has changed in a HUNDRED YEARS? It's just an absurd amount of time!" Aziraphale protests suddenly, frowning at her.
"Change what? I'm more rested. That's different."
"Alright, Crowley... alright" the angel rolls his eyes.
She glances at him sideways with that and rolls her eyes because who knows what he's complaining about now.
Well, that you disappeared for a hundred years and he missed you!
"What did you want to change? My flat?"
"Well, everything has changed in these years. The world is very different..."
"Relax, I always adapt quickly."
"It's not that I don't think you'll adapt, that's not the problem."
"Then?"
"W-Well... I don't know, at least a note."
"I had a note, it was on my bedside table, it said I ate'nt Dead."
"And was I going to see it on your bedside table? I didn't even know you had a flat."
"Well, someone came to clean so spiders wouldn't eat me."
"Still, I don't care if all of London knew you weren't dead!"
"And to water the plants..." she adds in a whisper, scolded.
"Fine, I don't care what you do" he crosses his arms.
"That was already clear" rolling eyes.
"I just can't believe you didn't tell me ANYTHING. A hundred years! You didn't even seem worried about... anything."
"Oh, did I have to tell you something? I thought we were... barely knew each other and that you'd be in trouble if anyone even thought you were fraternizing with me."
"Well... of course" he looks at her sideways.
"Well, I don't see how a note fits into that plan."
"W-Well... if we had an agreement."
"Still, I didn't plan on sleeping that long... and if I'd known you'd be like this when I returned, I would have slept a bit longer."
"Well, if I'd known you'd be like this, I wouldn't have asked about you" he looks at her sideways again.
Rolling her eyes.
"A-Although... I'm glad to know that nothing terrible has happened to you."
Crowley glances at him sideways with that.
"W-Well, I was a little... worried" the angel admits without looking at her.
She smiles a little at that, and the angel clears his throat for admitting it.
"Uh..." since we're so good at fitting compliments and nice things?, she clears his throat super awkwardly, thinking of something to ruin it.
"Did you have anything for dinner?" the angel changes the subject.
"Well, there was plenty of food at the palace party" she looks at him again, sideways.
"And did you eat?" he insists.
"You're not going to convince me that you didn't stuff yourself with... those... black ball thingies and sweets and..." she stops herself. "Uh... not much, why? Are you hungry?"
"The caviar balls were very good. Yes. I just thought... I still have a little room."
"The thing is, it's like two in the morning..."
"Ughhh, no one is going to make us blinis at this hour."
"I don't even know a good place around here" and I definitely don't want to ask what a blini is.
"Fiiine, fiiine."
"Fine, fine, what? Do you know? I'll treat you to breakfast when we get to London."
"Ufff... I don't know if we should" Aziraphale hesitates, cynically.
"The temptation is served" she smiles sideways.
"Ugh, don't talk to me about temptations. Only if... we arrive at a time that's not inconvenient."
"Alright, let's see how that goes" she smiles because... apparently, they haven't spoken in a hundred years, and... she hasn't noticed that it's been that long, but it seems like they saw each other yesterday to drink in the backroom.
"We'll see, yes. It'll depend."
Rolling her eyes at the threats, but okay, she doesn't say anything, settling into the carriage. You're not going to sleep again! You've been sleeping for a hundred years, YOU'RE NOT SLEEPY. This is GLUTTONY.
"If you fall asleep, you're staying here" the angel warns as he notices her posture.
"A hundred years in a horse-drawn carriage, I could go around the world a couple of times" she jokes, smiling.
"Maybe I'll ask for your replacement with another hundred years" rolling eyes.
"Sure, they'll listen to you in hell" she replies sarcastically.
"In heaven. And when you wake up, you'll have another even more unpleasant angel."
"That..." she hesitates for a moment and reconsiders "Is physically impossible."
Aziraphale glares at her and Crowley laughs at that expression.
"I'll do that, ask to be sent back to heaven because seeing you once every hundred years, I can't stand you" he glares.
"Believe me, I understand, it's a lot for me too" the demon flirts back.
"Ugh" he protests.
Crowley looks at him sideways and blushes a bit thinking that she needs to discover the world and what has happened in these hundred years, and... she'd like to ask him to explain it to her and show her, but she's embarrassed and she's sure the angel is still stuck like in the third century BC, so what does he know.
He does know. He knows about gentlemen's clubs.
"And what do you think of the world now that you're back to your senses?" the angel asks as if reading her mind or rather... thinking something similar.
"I barely woke up this week, I haven't seen much. Except the new cars."
"You should go to Paris" he recommends after rolling his eyes at the cars thing.
"Why?" she tilts her head, looking at him.
"They have a new attraction. It's something... Modern. Like a huge construction."
"A new machine for cutting heads?" she raises an eyebrow. "They were efficient enough with that as far as I remember."
"Nooooo."
"An industrial crepe factory?" she smiles sideways.
"Ohhh, that might actually be a good idea."
"Not that new things are not to our liking?"
"Actually, I doubt I'd like them, but I suddenly felt like having some crepes."
"Make sure to dress more appropriately this time if you're going to cross the Channel."
"I was dressed fine, but I meant for you to go!"
"Mmmm... Maybe I'll consider it" she doesn't sound very interested.
"Well, it was just a suggestion... of things you should see that have happened in the last hundred years" he looks away because she doesn't seem very interested.
"Uh... yeah, alright" she hesitates because... Well, it's not that she won't go, but if she goes alone, she'll probably take longer because it's only half as fun, but that's always been the case with her.
Then invite him to go with you!
She won't...! If he hasn't been able to give her a bottle of water!
Here we go again...
"So... Let me think of other things you should see."
Crowley raises an eyebrow, waiting.
"Come on, it's just... I think when you fell asleep, there was no... LIGHT, not the railroad, not the phonograph, not the independence of half the countries in the world, not practically all of Beethoven's life... the world has changed A LOT in THESE hundred years."
"Actually, I really liked the train when I came here... and I was thinking of getting on one of those dirigible thingies."
"Ugh, no. No, no, no... You're not going to convince me to get on one of those."
"Why not? Some men were talking about them on the train, I'm curious to see the bottom of the sea."
"That's not a dirigible, it's... a submarine" Aziraphale blinks.
"That's... what I said."
"It's just... Crowley, THE LIGHT. It's probably the greatest invention in history. After the printing press."
"Yes, well, try listening to bloody Lucifer talk about it for fifteen minutes and see if you don't get tired of it" rolling eyes.
"I mean... for humans" eye-rolling back.
"No one actively listens to him enough to know if he makes distinctions."
"Maybe Michael does."
"Who knows? Let her come down and shut him up, then."
"Alright, back to the matter at hand... You CAN'T go back to sleep for another hundred years!"
"Well, I just lost track of time a bit, it's hard to control it while you're asleep."
"Have you even realized how long a hundred years is, Crowley?" Aziraphale GLARES at her.
"Well, man... more or less" she makes a vague gesture because... NO. She hasn't realized.
"It's... Thirty-six thousand fifty days."
"Uh... yeah. I believe you" someone doesn't plan on doing math until the iPhone is invented.
The annoyed huff from the angel.
"Look, okay, do whatever you want. If you want to sleep again, sleep... for a hundred years if you want, but I'm not organizing another funeral for you."
"Did you have a funeral?" she asks incredulously blinking. Aziraphale huffs a bit and crosses his arms because... enough. "How? Without a body?"
"Well yes. I thought you vanished yourself with holy water..."
"Tell me you didn't have a mass!"
Rolling eyes.
"Aaagh" she throws her head back in protest. "Of course, you had a mass, what else would you do? Ugh!"
If he cried and everything.
That... Crowley hasn't quite grasped that.
"Well... if you're going to mock, forget it."
"I'm not mocking, but a mass! And who did you invite? Or did you do it alone? Yes, let's bury a doll because the body was completely disintegrated" it's not the time for you to imagine he has a sex doll.
"There are dozens of funerals without a body present, Crowley" he glares, annoyed.
"And what did you bury? Wait! Is there a grave? Where is it? Don't tell me it's in Westminster!"
"You're not on consecrated ground, don't be... stupid" he squeezes his eyes shut.
"Well, knowing you, it's better to be close to home so you don't have to make much effort to go and leave flowers."
"No one would ever want to leave you flowers" rolling eyes.
"I hope at least the place is as elegant and decadent as I imagine" she smiles a little sideways.
"I'm not having this conversation anymore" he states, glaring at her.
"I just want to go see it, you can't be mad because I'm curious to see my own tomb!" she gestures with her hands as if it were obvious.
"That's not the problem."
"Then?"
"You're not even thinking about all this and what it implies" he scolds her a bit.
"Honestly, I'm thinking that because of the mass is why I must have woken up with the inexplicable need to go to the bathroom at some point."
"And even when you woke up to the bathroom, you didn't bother to let me know you were still alive" he glares at her again, annoyed.
"I've told you before, why would I let you know if you didn't want to fraternize with me?"
"Since when do you care so much about my opinion?"
"So, that's what this is about now. Because I got angry, now you're angry because I did. Rolling eyes at you" she crosses her arms and leans back in her seat, looking out the window.
"I'm not mad because you did, for God's sake. I'm mad because you left for YEARS without even letting me know, and you don't even understand what that implied!" he continues to protest.
Don't worry, she'll understand when she finds out you got a boyfriend and she dies of jealousy from here to eternity. At least you can go torment him in hell.
That... is a good point. He deserves it!
Rolling eyes. The carriage stops and they get off to go to the train station.
Thank goodness.