Conversations and arguments (occasionally drunken) between a Demon and an Angel
I own buggerall. This is going to be a story of episodes in which Aziraphale and Crowley argue, scattered throughout time space and other esoteric bits of the multiverse.
Crowley reclined in his chair, mostly to look comfortable because on the inside he was squirming, metaphorically pinioned by Aziraphale, ex angel of the eastern gate, the eternal opposite number, and patron saint of books glared at him with genuine anger in his eyes. Crowley looked closer and winced when he saw they were tinged with golden fiery flecks. Not good. That meant a bout of Holy Rage was in the offing. Crowley really didn't like Holy Rage. It meant a quick trip to a long queue and a lot of paperwork in Hells Ill health and Lack of Safety offices.
Aziraphale broke the charged silence. "Why did you tempt Lewis? Why?"
Crowley considered the question while positioning himself as far away as he could from the angels wrath. He reflected on the question. He supposed he'd tempted Lewis because the man was insufferably pious, and he wanted to get one over Aziraphale after the angel had succeeded via Lewis's friend Tolkien and a personal appearance, to change an ardent atheist into the most influential Christian thinker of the 20th century so far. That debacle had nearly got him a roasting (literally) from below. So Crowley had insinuated himself into Lewis's company and tricked him into writing 'The Screwtape letters' over a couple of drinks. Well, a couple of dozen anyway. While Crowley had thought they were sufficiently Christian to pass the Angels notice, he had left his mark on the manuscript. There is something about the regular mentions of a demon in sunglasses that catches the eye.
Crowley sighed and decided to just say it and have done with it, as the Holy Rage was beginning to mount judging by the increasing amount of burning gold in Aziraphales eyes, and he was beginning to glow, meaning Crowley's only (slim) chance of avoiding a heavenly beat down was by telling the truth.
He sighed and said, "Because when you converted him to a Christian, you got one of the best theologians in the country. I needed to counter that." Aziraphale didn't look particularly convinced. Crowley tried again. "I wanted to match your achievement angel. I hate losing, and unless I try really hard, you win without any real effort. Good always wins. Isn't that how it's supposed to go? Hmm? Unless I do something big, you thwart it without second thought. My work wiped out in seconds. You're always patient, you're like water, you always win. That'ssss why (1)." As Crowley spoke, the bitterness in his voice became almost tangible, and it was Aziraphales turn to lean back in his chair. As Crowley slumped, utterly dejected, Aziraphale looked at him with the sort of compassion only an angel and select humans ever managed, the Holy Rage quite gone. And despite being from a time before nations, Aziraphale, in the best British tradition, made tea. When he brought it through (2), Crowley mumbled his thanks and topped it up with some miracle whiskey.
(1) I think I'm correct in saying that Crowley hisses when distressed or angry, being the serpent of Eden.
(2) Aziraphale flatly refused to miracle tea if he could make it, claiming it would be giving in to Sloth, which Crowley did with great enjoyment (witness the miracle clothing),
So people, what do you think of part 1? I have to warn you it may be updated fairly infrequently as I have three stories to deal with apart from this one. And please Read and Review! I am getting sick of people constantly favouriting or putting on alert stories and being too damn slothful to review.