Age in Eternity
Day 8 Choir
Crowley was sprawled across the couch and Aziraphale, his head pillowed in the angel's lap and his feet dangling over the arm. He was eminently comfortable, drinking heavily spiked eggnog with big loopy straw so he didn't have to sit up. Aziraphale was drinking the same thing, and giving a long meandering monologue about… something to do with his misprinted bibles. Crowley had been trying to pay attention, but he'd lost the thread of it somewhere along the line. He would have felt bad about it, but really, how long could a drunk demon be expected to listen to a discussion on bibles anyway.
"S'all a bit of bollocks, anyway." Aziraphale stopped talking and Crowley realized that he had spoken out loud. He looked up quickly, and to his relief the angel didn't look hurt or angry, just curiously amused.
"I didn't realize you had an opinion on that translation," Aziraphale teased, fully aware that he had been talking to himself for quite some time.
"Ppppppppbt," Crowley blew air through loose lips and waved a hand dramatically. "S'not the translation, and s'not you, Angel, s'te whole bloody book's bollocks. Half of it didn't even happen like that. Got you wrong, didn't they, said you're a cherub."
Aziraphale's face got an odd look even from this angle. "Well, a lot of it is wrong, yes, but actually, at that point I was a cherub," he said softly. "I got demoted, after, on account of the sword."
Crowley blinked up at him. "I didn't know they could do that. Guess it's better than…" He trailed off and waved his hand indicating himself.
Aziraphale stroked his hair. "I'm sure it was less traumatic, but I won't say better, as I won't say I'm any better than you are, my dear." Crowley flushed at that. "I hope it doesn't bother you, knowing?"
"Was a shite thing to do to you, but I can refrain from punching Gabriel, again. You ask a lot though."
"I didn't mean that, though yes that too. I meant I hope it doesn't upset you that I'm, well, for lack of a better term, older than you." Age wasn't really the right term, but human languages didn't really have a right term, and angelic languages had a nasty habit of setting things on fire.
"Oh." Crowley's face scrunched up a bit as he thought about that. "Wouldn't matter to me if you were. You're not though, but it doesn't matter."
"Crowley, I just told you, I Am a cherub." Aziraphale though they might both be a bit too drunk for this conversation.
"Yeah, you said. I 'member when She made the cherubim. 'Wos that for then', we asked. 'Wos it need all those heads and eyes for?' 'N She said you were s'pose to be guards, but we didn't even know what a guard was. 'Wos that when it's at home then?' n'all. She knew it was gonna go tits up, 'course She did. Knows er'rything She does. Didn't stop it, didn't fix it, just gave us th' old heave ho."
Aziraphale was staring at him. "Sorry, angel, know you don't like it when I talk about Mum that way. Never mind me, I'm drunk. And you lot didn't look half as weird as the Ophanim." He tried to apologize. Still the angel didn't make any sound or move.
"Does it bother you?" He echoed the question back. "That you aren't older?" The concern in his voice finally broke through Aziraphale's shock.
"No, my dear, of course not," Shock had apparently burned the alcohol out of his brain. "Though I do feel a bit of a fool. Seems obvious now they wouldn't have sent just any demon up to Eden. I just, don't most of the Demons with that much power have ranks? You never mentioned one."
Crowley snorted. "Technically a Lord, but I didn't want anything to do with their politics. I wanted to be up here an' they wanted me out of the way. Everybody wins. I really get to win now, cause I have you." He smiled in a way that he would never allow himself to sober, soft and sappy.
Aziraphale smiled back. "That you do, dearest. Now I think it's about time we got you up to bed, before you fall asleep on the couch." He lifted the demon as he stood, and began half carrying him up the stairs. Part of him was wondering just how much he'd been underestimating Crowley all these years, but it was a small part. He was from a choir so old Aziraphale wasn't sure he even knew their name, but what did it really matter? He'd known he was a demon all along after all, and had decided long ago that who Crowley was was far more important than what he was. He did consider getting one of those strange stuffed tentacle monster toys, though as he tucked his sleepy eldritch horror into bed. for @drawlight‘s 31 Days of Ineffables thanks to @waywren for the beta
