Chapter Text
“And a fourth glass with that.” Crowley had arrived at the same moment as the sommelier, his voice slicing mercifully through the tension around the table. Aziraphale barely managed to disguise a massive sigh of relief as a sigh of disgust.
It might have been nice to be truly disgusted with Crowley. But of course the demon was late, and, honestly, it was only by 17 minutes. It was just that in those 17 minutes, he, Aziraphale, had already smoothed over a nasty disagreement between Razael and the maitre d’ about what it was to have reservations at a restaurant as opposed to reservations about a restaurant. He had brought it to Krippin’s attention in very stern terms that ramming the salad fork under his own fingernails while muttering “Corporeal pain…fascinating…” would draw unwanted attention from the other diners.
And those two together… Razael, the only being Aziraphale had ever encountered who made the human expression about sticks in unmentionable places seem too accurate to be crude. And Krippin, a definite Slinker. Aziraphale privately believed that every single demonological treatises in history had missed the mark — demons should simply be divvied up as Lurkers, Slinkers, Thunderers…and Crowley.
Anyhow, those two together struck sparks. Aziraphale had —somehow — also averted the War between Heaven and Hell erupting, in miniature, at this very table no less than four times already. Really, what was the use of negotiating to leave your weapons at the door when you sent in emissaries capable of summoning them from the the farthest corners of the universe in an instant?
“What is it, Fernand? The Cerise a’Leve? The ’09? Ahh, the ’07 — very good. No, no, I’ll pour for us, go on.”
Crowley was putting on his very breeziest and most worldly act, something he did beautifully for as long as he stayed sober enough to manage it. Plus he’d just gotten one of their favorite staff members out of range of any immediate crossfire. No, Aziraphale was absolutely not disgusted to see him.
“Crawly, you’re late,” slurred Krippin in a voice which left no doubt his true form was something wet, pointy, and hideous, like a hundred mouths with gingivitis.
Disapproving glower already in place – good. “Fashionably late,” Aziraphale sneered, “according to a deplorable human convention, for which he is no doubt responsible.”
“You’re too kind, angel. But then you would be.”
“I daresay anything less than smiting is too kind for the likes of you.”
“Hmm, then it must just burn you that you haven’t managed that in six millennia.”
“No? I believe I’ve put you in your place time and again, you vile serpent.”
“But, here I am, in place right beside you in this lovely establishment — not very smitten, it would seem.
“That’s how your forked tongue would tell it.”
“Oh, certainly, never trust my forked tongue. I did say “too kind” when I should have said “too soft.”
“Enough!” Krippin snapped.
“Yes, quite,” Razael huffed.
Well, thank goodness. It had merely been a bit of a relief talking nonsense with Crowley while putting on a show of loathing for their guests. But if the two of them disagreeing could get the other two to agree, perhaps this whole ordeal could be finished without bloodshed after all.
“Now that we are all finally assembled,” Razael leveled a glare at a smirking Crowley, “perhaps we can finally get down to business.”
“Indeed. I believe the waiter has been quite impatient to take our orders.”
“Further delay!?” Krippin gnashed his rather excessive teeth.
“No, no, this part is very important…for Gluttony,” Crowley assured him.
“Must we?” Razael sounded peevish. Divinely peevish, but still.
“I would think it’s rather the point. If Heaven and Hell have assigned you to gather information on humanity, then what better way begin to understand them than to experience some of their finer offerings…”
“Indulgences.” Aziraphale scowled at Crowley.
A flurry of ordering followed, during which two more bottles of wine were requested, and Aziraphale certainly did not take any impious pleasure in instructing that snotty Razael what he simply must have to start and had to take for the main.
That done, the other angel and demon seemed somewhat bewildered but all the more irritated.
“Now,” Krippin demanded in his bloody-sounding voice, “tell us what we need to know.”
“Right, so…” Crowley began.
“That is not the format for this meeting. We have a list.”
“Of course, there’s a list,” Krippin slurred at Razael, “but there are protocols to be observed. Shortcuts must be sought; cheating must be attempted. Besides, wouldn’t you prefer to have this whole blessed travesty over with sooner?”
“That would be entirely…improper. Insubordinate demon!”
Aziraphale vigorously avoided sharing a glance with Crowley over how clearly Razael desperately wanted to agree with Krippin. It would be extremely dangerous to forget that this luncheon was, well, dangerous. Even if the official line about needing to understand Humanity and its extraordinary talent for buggering up Apocalypses was true; even if, as it seemed, whatever Adam had done after the Last Day had given everyone the impression there was nothing funny going on here really; even if this wasn’t all just an elaborate ruse for Heaven and Hell to check up on their field agents, giving off the slightest whiff of fraternization would be just as damning. Or whatever came after damning, in Crowley’s case.
“Insubordinate, really? To whom? Hell? They approve entirely. Heaven? Old news…”
“To the Cause! If you would just behave!”
“Behave like what? Like a demon?”
“Well, I’m sure we all know how demons behave (and this time he did cast a wry glance at Crowley, although he disguised it as a sneer), but it seems to me this bickering will take even longer than the list. If we could begin?”
Razael gave Aziraphale an approving nod, and Crowley drawled, “Nicssssely done, angel.”
“Yes, rather.”
Their appetizers began to arrive at the table at just that moment, and, once more a bit off-balanced as small, artful plates invaded his space, Razael gritted out, “So, firstly, what is the purpose of this sort of exercise for humans? This dining thing?”