Partner's in crime

Aziraphale enters a rundown bar in downtown London; he's never been here before and wouldn't have set foot in the place had it not been for his partner in crime.

"Where is he?" The angel muttered under his breath before angrily sitting on a seat as far from everyone as he could. He could feel people staring at the back of his neck wondering why he was here; to be fair he was wondering the same thing. Trust Crowley to choose here to meet up.

"Bloody France." Someone muttered as they seated themselves down on his right. He turned to look at the newcomer; he was wearing nice, old fashioned clothes that Aziraphale could see himself in (he was in two minds as to whether he should ask the newcomer where he'd got them from but realised this might seem rude and the one thing Aziraphale couldn't stand beyond all else was rudeness. Although God knows why as his companion was the rudest person on earth, he even had a plaque to prove it courtesy of you-know-who). The new comer looked like he came from an affluent area judging by his well kept hair and slightly snobbish expression although he did have ridiculously large eyes but Aziraphale thought it would be rude to point this out.

"Hello, I'm Aziraphale." He extended his hand to the newcomer who shook it gratefully.

"England, it's a pleasure to meet you although it would be nice in a different setting." He looked around disdainfully. "You don't look like someone who should be in here."

"Neither do you." Aziraphale retorted.

"No, well I made the mistake of allowing my associate to choose the venue for our meeting."

"I know that one; I mean what do they see in this place?" He burst out, so glad to find someone on the same wavelength as him. No one could possible know how great it felt to meet someone who had a Crowley to deal with (except maybe his new found friend).

"Who knows but I'll tell you this I'm never letting him choose again no matter what he says! Next time we're going to the Savoy or the- the Mayfair!" Aziraphale nodded along, imagining how it would feel to be sitting in the lap of luxury with finger sandwiches and afternoon tea rather than the creaking stools and food which looked as though even he would die from eating it.

"Zinbin!" Came a drunken cry from behind him and he inwardly cursed; why did he feel the need to use that hideous nickname in public. It should be kept for private use when the two of them were alone (if it had to be used at all). He could feel himself blushing as he thought of the last time Crowley had used his nickname.

"This is Crowley my... associate." He fumbled as he tried to find a word for what Crowley was to him. After all he'd known him for over a millennium; he was meant to be his worst enemy and yet in some ways he was his best friend.

"Associate! Is that all I am to you? I thought we were friends." Crowley pouted as he wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's neck and went to kiss him.

"What are you doing?" Aziraphale shouted angrily as he tried to push Crowley off. Honestly after you finally found someone who understood the irritant that was an associate and then yours goes and makes you look like a fool. "Why on earth are you so drunk? For God's sake Crowley its half ten!"

"I know but I met the most awesome dude, he knows someone just like you." Crowley grinned as he moved aside to show off his new found friend.

"I am so sorry." Groaned England from beside him. "France, what have I told you about behaving when you're in my home!"

"That's yours?" He asked incredulously as he stared down at someone who looked even more of a handful then Crowley (not an easy feat); he too had ridiculously large eyes and was maybe a head shorter then England with unkempt hair. He reminded Aziraphale of a young collie, so full of energy that he was ready to burst although right now he looked like he could barely walk in a straight line let alone run about.

"Yes this is France." He sighed before groaning as Crowley and France decided to serenade the two of them with 'uptown girl.' Several unfriendly heads turned towards them and made threatening gestures at the group.

"Will you sit down!" Aziraphale yanked Crowley down by the cashmere sweater and soften for a moment as he realised it was the one he'd bought him for Christmas last year. It was beautiful and soft in a deep red (they often argued whether it was maroon or burgundy) with a big reindeer on the front. It would have looked a lot better, Aziraphale mused, if it wasn't July. Crowley was a terrible drunk to be out in public with. No, he wasn't violent or rowdy (that would have been much, much better) instead he was touchy feely; within two seconds of sitting down on the seat beside Aziraphale he had once again wrapped his arms around him and planted a slobbering kiss on his cheek. France, undeterred by losing his singing partner was continuing to sing, making up for his lost counterpart by screeching the words at the top of his lungs. England was desperately trying to pull him down but despite being a head taller shorter than him France made up for it with body strength and wouldn't budge even a millimetre. More people were staring over at them and one man who looked like a sumo wrestler had stood up and was making his way towards them. England looked desperately over at Aziraphale for some help and was disheartened to see that he was getting no help from his new ally. Aziraphale was struggling to push Crowley off, who had decided that Aziraphale looked more comfy then the chair and was now sat on him complaining that he had bony legs. The sumo wrestler had reached them and angrily grabbed France by the throat. France, undeterred carried on singing a now strangled version of 'love you more'. Everyone braced themselves for poor England's brains to be bashed out against the table although even Aziraphale, and probably England, could see some benefits to this) but it never came. Instead the sumo wrestler calmly shoved him into a seat and put his hand over his mouth. Finally the hideous noise stopped.

"At last." The sumo wrestler hissed. "The noise that thing was making was upsetting my boyfriend." He turned and pointed out a small dwarf figure. The two of them would have been comical had it not mean that realisation dawned in Aziraphale's mind.

"This is a gay bar isn't it?"


"You nearly got us killed!" Crowley exclaimed for about the millionth time as Aziraphale half dragged half carried the aforementioned home.

"I did not!" He protested for no apparent reason; arguing with a drunk was a pointless exercise as he'd found out many times in the past.

"You did, you made such a fuss when you found out it was gay bar that the big, buff, bald dude with the fur nearly slit all our throats!"

"I wish you were one of those drunks who went sleepy and quiet." Aziraphale sighed as he let go of Crowley with one arm to fumble in his pocket to find the keys to his flat. "And I wouldn't have made a fuss if you'd told me beforehand where we were going! They caught me by surprise is all!"

"I don't know why they took you by surprise, you are gay after all."

"I am most certainly not!"

"You so are, have you seen the clothes you wear? You couldn't be more gay if you wore a big pink sign around your neck saying 'I love Crowley'."

"I don't love you, I loathe you." Aziraphale sighed as he finally found his keys and began the awkward task of trying to get Crowley through the door.

"Now we both know that's not true. That's why you got me drunk tonight so you could date rape me!" Crowley cried in mock horror although the way he was eyeing up Aziraphale betrayed his real feelings that he wouldn't really mind too much if it happened.

"Honestly you're lucky I bought you home at all. In fact I have half a mind to take you right back there and leave you to Edwardo's advances."

"Which one was Edwardo?" Crowley asked as Aziraphale tried desperately to get Crowley up the steep, rickety staircase without letting either of them fall to their deaths. It was odd for an angel and devil to be scared for death but right now going back to their respective afterlives would be majorly inconvenient. Both their masters had heard about their friendship and were keen to put a stop to it however calling them back right now was a bad idea, there was a shortage of spies which could be sent to earth after a nasty battle between the two over Pluto (both were claiming they didn't own it, after all who wanted a lump of rock that even the small, stupid humans refused to acknowledge as a planet). So unless they ended up back on their home turf under their own steam they were safe at least for the time being.

"Edwardo was the one who I had to stop kissing you at least three times. You said he had sexy eyes before telling him I was your husband so you couldn't be with him. Why did you say I was your husband?"

"Because yelling date rape at him didn't help." Crowley laughed.

"That may have something to do with the fact you and your new buddy France began yelling date rape when anyone came within a foot of you."

"Oh year... yeah." Crowley grunted. "So will you?"

"Will I what?" Aziraphale asked although his voice was softer, filled with relief at making it up the stairs with a Crowley hanging off his arms.

"Marry me. We could go to Vegas and have one of those cool ceremonies with a tramp as a witness." Crowley laughed while Aziraphale dragged him into the bedroom and flung him onto the bed. "Here let's practice! Do you Zinbin take me... take me... Cowbin, no... Crowbin, Nah... Honeybin! So do you Zinbin take me, Honeybin to be your lawfully wedded wife...husband!"

"Let me think about that one...NO." He sighed.

"Aww, I'm going to cry now!" Crowley pulled a strange face and began making odd braying sounds which Aziraphale thought was meant to be crying.

"Oh shut up! Even France's singing wasn't as bad as this!" At the memory of their new friend's awful shrieking they both began laughing.

"Man he was mental!"

"I wonder what they were going to talk about. Come to think of it we never did talk about the antichrist not being the antichrist." Aziraphale sighed. "I think that may need to wait until the morning though."

"Mmm antichrist... goes good with chicken." Aziraphale sighed at him before picking up a blanket to cover him with. Just as Crowley seem to be going to sleep there was a knock at the door waking Crowley who began moaning about feeling sick and how 'Zinbin' should have stopped him drinking the entire bar.

"Hello... who the hell are you?" Aziraphale sighed as he stared at yet another large eyed person. This one looked, if it was possible, even more annoying than France.

"I'm Italy, a present from France and England. I'm sure we're going to be best friends forever!" There was a man behind him in courier clothes holding out a clipboard.

"You need to sign for him; they wanted to check that you got him." Aziraphale leaned forward to sign but some sort of cannon ball hit him, pinning him to the ground.

"Don't you dare sign, don't you dare!" Crowley screamed before leaping up and thrusting Italy back at the courier. "Take him back!"


"Damn we nearly got rid of him." England sighed as they watched from round the corner as Italy was thrown back into a crate by the angry courier who had to put up with him singing all the way back.


"Right back to bed you." Aziraphale, still rubbing his sore back, pushed Crowley up the stairs and herded him into the bedroom.

"Yes, Mum." He replied sarcastically but proceeded to snuggle down under the duvet. Aziraphale went to leave but Crowley grabbed his arm and dragged him down next to him.

"What are you doing?" Aziraphale complained as Crowley snuggled up next to him.

"Love you Zinbin." Crowley whispered before falling into a sudden, peaceful sleep. Aziraphale watched him sleeping peacefully and smiled, no matter what he did Aziraphale would always care for Crowley, maybe even love him.

"Love you too, Honeybin." He whispered before falling asleep next to Crowley.