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Crowley and Aziraphale had been drinking solidly for three hours. Unlike another universe, however, there wasn’t really any motivation behind it. Certainly not the coming of the Antichrist, which had occurred eleven years and change before the current time. Not even bemoaning the Antichrist coming into his full powers, with the help of his father, whom Crowley has spoken to many times personally, as he exists and is a person in this universe and, I assure you, is very cool indeed.
No. Instead, Crowley and Aziraphale were drinking simply because liquor is free here. Because they are in a nightclub. A nightclub owned by Crowley.
Crowley’s nightclub.
However, that is not to say that there wasn’t a problem niggling at Aziraphale’s mind that he just needed to discuss with Crowley. Not a problem as big as the oncoming end of the world, perhaps, but only just.
He needed relationship advice.
“It’s just – it’s just. Well. I haven’t done this in the past. It’s new. I thought we could. Touch base. As it were.” Aziraphale said.
He was referring, of course, to their respective girlfriends. Who were women, as the term suggests.
Crowley rolled his eyes. “Aziraphale. I don’t know what you want me to say. I am perfectly happy with my girlfriend. Madam Tracy. Who is a woman, if that wasn’t clear. One who I have sex with, even.”
“Yes, yes.” Aziraphale brushed him off. “I know. Anathema is also a woman. Just so you know. And we also have intercourse regularly.”
They both nodded their heads once, to indicate that they understood each other and how much they have sex with their girlfriends, who are women.
“But,” Aziraphale continued nervously. “despite the fact that we are both very much heterosexual, I haven’t actually been in a committed relationship before.”
Aziraphale had cause to be concerned. Anathema was, of course, a very beautiful woman. That fact had to be stressed. Numerous times, in fact. She was, indeed, very beautiful. And, well, an occultist and an angel made a very strange pair, after all.
And that wasn’t even getting into the fact that Anathema was his assistant. What would his colleagues at the art museum think if he was in a relationship with his assistant. She had kissed him solidly on the lips about three months back, right there in his office, as that was the done thing when a young lady and a gentleman wished to in this particular universe.
Crowley brushed him off. “You absolute idiot Aziraphale. You Go-Satan damned moron.”
Crowley felt the need to call Aziraphale an idiot any chance he got. Unfortunately, as was the case most of the time he had the inclination to treat Aziraphale rudely, Crowley was completely in the wrong. You see, while Aziraphale had met Anathema in the midst of the Apocalypse, an event world-renowned for leading to relationships that were likely not well thought out, Crowley had taken a liking to Madam Tracy, who had propositioned him a whole one time before the end of the world. Add to that the fact that Crowley had taken Adam, Madam Tracy’s adoptive son and the Antichrist, to the local Tadfield pier a few times for some adoptive-father-son bonding time, and things were going very well indeed for Crowley.
Aziraphale, not so much.
“Aziraphale. Just. You know. Listen to her when she talks. Her hopes and dreams and such. Women like that.”
“But Crowley.” Aziraphale said hopelessly. “She’s an occultist. Her hopes and dreams are fundamentally opposed to what I, an angel, believe in.”
“Well then.” Crowley responded. “Just make sure the sex you have is very good then. Women like that sort of thing, so I’m told. Do you want another drink or something?”
“Wait.” Aziraphale said. “Have you been in a relationship before Madam Tracy? A relationship with a woman?”
Crowley shifted uncomfortably, before shouting, “No, as a matter of fact I haven’t. But I, unlike you, am not having relationship problems at the moment, because Tracy and I actually suit each other. Sure, she’s a bit flighty, but a demon and a medium fit are a much better for each other than an angel and an occultist. You absolute baffoon, Aziraphale. The fact that you are still alive after six thousand years of this astounds me.”
“But I like her Crowley.” Aziraphale shouted back emotionally. “I like her because I am a man-shaped being and she is a woman and it is the done thing after we have been through a life-changing event together!”
“Well, I can’t help you!” Crowley said, slamming his hand on the table before throwing his head back and pouring the remainder of his drink down his throat. “Just. Just figure it out as you go along. That’s what I’ve been doing. It’ll work out or it won’t. And. Well. We all survived an Apocalypse together. So. It should work out just fine.”
Aziraphale looked back down at his drink, unsure but at a loss at what to counter with. “Yes, yes, of course.” He said, nodding to himself. He did not seem sure of it.
They both looked at each other uncomfortably. Crowley had already called Aziraphale stupid two separate times, and they didn’t actually like each other very much, because that is, indeed, this universe, so they were at their wit’s end on how to properly continue this conversation.
“You want to get a lap dance from one of the strippers who work here, in my nightclub?” Crowley asked, trying to break the tension.
“Oh yes, let’s.” Aziraphale said, grateful for the change of subject.
Aziraphale finished his drink and they walked off in the direction of the strippers together, heterosexually.