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Jesus walked, confused. That had not gone way he expected. Nothing today, if he thought about it, had gone as he expected. From being awoken by Muriel, to Azirpaphale's rather odd and frantic meeting, to the way all the Archangels seemed to have a deep disdain for their Supreme Archangel, it all felt… wrong. It's why he'd gotten in the elevator in the first place.
It seemed to make the most sense for Jesus to go out on his own, see the humans, check the temperature on the world and get a sense for how tastes had changed. Two thousand years was a long time. Seemed simple, in his head, at least. And food had always been such an effective tool for bringing people together.
But the way they had looked at him, as though Jesus had three eyes or two heads or was a complete lunatic, well, it wasn't what he'd expected. It was… confusing. Didn't make him feel good. Itchy, like he wanted to run. But he walked, instead, his feet absentmindedly taking him through neighborhoods and around corners while his mind spun. And he'd ended up here, staring at a pub that looked like it had no business in central London. Contrasted against the grandiose architecture of its neighbors, the pub was was, for lack of a better word, painfully plain. Barely an awning, rust on the sides, and the name the Tadfield Ale House did not match either of the street names on the signs. But Jesus' legs had brought him here; nudged, forcefully enough, to get him to consider entering despite the overwheling feel of the place. Demonic and loved; two things that were not supposed to go together. But, today had not gone as expected.
Jesus reached for the handle and pulled.
He spotted the Beast immediately. Or, the Beast spotted him. He sat casually, one arm extended along the top of the booth while he leaned slightly against the windowsill. He lifted a hand and waved.
Last time Jesus checked the plans, they weren't actually supposed to meet in person. The Beast was to be long off collecting souls, leaving his mark and ruling over the sinful world, and Jesus was supposed to, well… there would be the rapture, which Aziraphale had failed to include on his checklist, and then… the judgment. Both of which made complete sense before Jesus' death.
But now, well, he was staring at an Antichrist who seemed to rule over nothing but his overpowering attitude.
Nothing today had gone as expected.
Jesus swallowed and walked slowly over to him. The pub was nice, relatively quiet except for one old man standing at the bar shouting. A couple sat in the corner, their heads, leaned in closely as they whispered, their drinks barely touched beside them. And a waitress behind the bar running back and forth, doing her best to be polite to the shouting man. Who was still shouting. Why was he shouting?
Jesus reached the table. For a few minutes he simply stood there, awkwardly. He wasn't sure what he expected him to look like, but what sat before him — fair skin, deep green eyes and soft, light-brown curls — was… unexpected. The Beast was always going to be beautiful, and charming, it was part of his appeal. Jesus knew this. But, he hadn't expected it to unnerve him so much.
This, he thought, was why they were never meant to meet.
The Antichrist cleared his throat, glancing between Jesus and the empty booth opposite him. Jesus' fingers gripped tighter as he slid into the booth.
"Er, you gonna just keep holding onto that?" the Antichrist asked.
Jesus looked down. He was crushing the box of pizza in his hands, a few spots of grease dripping down onto this trousers. "Oh," he said dumbly. He moved his hands, fumbling the box and nearly letting the entire pizza slide out.
"Here," the Antichrist said and, with a soft gesture of his fingers and a rush of demonic energy, the box and the mess disappeared. Jesus blinked at his hands, still able to feel the box, reach for it if he needed to. A courtesy, from the Antichrist. Jesus exhaled sharply as he placed his hands on his thighs. He should have thought of that.
"So…" the Antichrist said, drumming his fingers on the table before extending his hand towards Jesus. "I'm Adam." Jesus stared at it for a minte before Adam extended it a little further. Jesus still didn't move. "I mean, I know your name, mate, but… manners, you know?"
Jesus frowned. "Manners…"
Adam pulled his hand back. "Yeah, you know like… what your mum taught you." He seemed to realize his mistake the second it left his mouth. "Sorry, look" — he extended both hands this time, grabbing Jesus' and placing it around his and shook. His hand was warm, warmer than it should be, and surprisingly soft — "like that. I know we're supposed to… ya know, but. Doesn't mean we have to be arseholes."
"Not arseholes." Jesus was starting to feel like a bird, just repeating what Adam said to him. But his mind was swimming.
Adam squinted at him, amused. "You need food." He looked past Jesus and raised his hand.
"I have-" Jesus gestured towards the pizza in the ether. Adam answered with a curt shake of the head.
The woman from behind the bar stopped at their table.
"'Allo Adam darling, the usual?"
Adam smiled, brightly, kindly, and the woman smiled back, her cares vanished. Jesus bristled against this. And all that dwell upon the earth shall worship him…
"Is he giving you a hard time, Carol?" Adam gestured vaguely behind Jesus, who turned to find the shouting man glaring at their table.
Reading people remained confusing. It was supposed to be simple. Jesus would return to a world that was split between those with the mark of the beast and those who'd been saved. But, here, nothing was clear, everything mixed. This glaring man was no exception.
Jesus turned back to Adam who'd been watching him. A new glint had awoken in his green eyes. Adam turned back to Carol. "Do you want me to take care of him up for you?" he asked with a wink.
Carol laughed and swatted him on the shoulder with a dish towel. "Hush you. You've gotten under R.P.'s skin enough. And I can stand up for myself."
Adam relented. "How's Billy doing?" His voice had softened.
Claire sighed. "Still in the hospital. He needs his batteries changed but has an infection. They have to get the fever down before they can operate." She shook her head. "These bloody stimulators; they're such a miracle but the risks… and I'm stuck 'ere. Shauna is off for the week visiting Kit and her new granddaughter. It's just me and Trent."
Jesus watched as Adam listened, concerned, as Carol kept talking freely and openly about her problems. To Adam. The Beast. The Antichrist. Jesus tore his attention away to read Carol. Another gray soul, filled with sin and grace, kindness and cruelty. How on earth would Jesus be able to judge all of them?
"I can cover for you Carol." Adam offered it freely.
Carol placed a hand on her waist. "What kind of a woman would I be if I let you skip out on university to help me? Absolutely not-"
"I'm already home for the week. Visiting my friend here," he said with a nod to Jesus. "I can cover your shift tomorrow and the next day."
A soft smile. "That's sweet of you love, but you know Trent'll have a fit. Last time you came here-"
"I won't let Brian through the door" — he placed a hand over his heart —"I swear it. Anyway, he's off to culinary school to be a chef, believe it or not."
"Lord help anyone who lets that boy near their kitchen again…" Carol trailed off as she patted down her apron to find a writing pad. Jesus stared at her, at the casual use of his Mother's name. This world… had changed. She continued, "I'll mention it to Trent. Thanks, love, you're a good lad."
Adam scrunched his nose at the endearment but said nothing.
"So, the usual?" Carol asked.
"Yes."
"And for your… friend?"
"He'll have the fish and chips, Carol," Adam said with a slight loaded nod to Jesus. "It's mandatory. They're the best this side of London."
"You're damned straight," Carol said, scribbling on her pad. "And a drink?"
"Two cokes."
"You sure? You know Adam, you're eighteen now. I know you don't fancy drinking but your friend here looks like he could use a stiff one. Or at least a Guinness."
Adam raised an eyebrow at Jesus. Silence. Jesus just stared back.
"Oi!" Carol snapped. "Do you talk?" She turned to Adam. "Does he talk?"
Adam continued to look at him, amused. "I dunno, actually."
Jesus' cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Ah, no. The coke will be fine, thank you."
"Suit yourself. You!" she shouted, snapping her fingers at the man who, apparently, stepped behind the bar and had started serving himself.
Adam chuckled as he shook his head.
"You're not what I expected," Jesus said, trying to read Adam. He was blocking him.
"Well, sorry to disappoint," he said with a smirk. "You, on the other hand, are exactly what I expected."
Jesus was surprisingly bothered by this. "What does that mean?"
"Well, they tried this one way — let me live, grow up here — and it didn't work out. Figures they'd drop you in right at the end with no context whatsoever. Better odds."
"Better odds." It sounded bitter coming out of his mouth. Like a game. Jesus wasn't sure if he liked games.
He felt Adam watching him again. "Sorry about the pizza thing," he said kindly.
Jesus leaned back in his seat. "The pizza… thing?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, it worked, the first time, with… I think it was a few loaves of bread and fish, right? But this is Soho, mate. A flat rental will cost at least six thousand pounds a month. Unending magical pizza was never going to wow them in the way you hoped."
"You were watching me?"
The question cracked Adam's confident façade. Jesus was surprisingly comforted by it. "Well… not watching. You know just…" Adam trailed off, waving a hand around his head. "Look, you have no idea what it felt like to wake up this morning and know your hereditary enemy had risen. To feel it…" He placed a hand over his chest. "And now that I say it out loud, it sounds awkward, and creepy. But, you know." His cheeks had gone a bit pink.
Jesus nodded. Carol came and dropped their drinks in front of them without a word. Jesus cupped his in his hands and pulled it toward himself as Adam took a sip. "They laughed at me," he said, trying to sound unbothered and not sure if he succeeded.
"I know. I'm sorry."
Jesus shook his head. "Bet they never laughed at you."
Adam frowned at that. "I never showed myself."
This surprised Jesus. "Never?"
"I mean, a bit. It was scary. I was… scary." The façade was completely gone now, leaving an alarmingly honest and open human. "My ascension was different. It was about control. I thought I could make things better, rebuild the world, fix everything. But it was all a lie." He cleared his throat as he took another sip. "Luckily my friends smacked some sense into me before I really cocked everytyhing up."
"So it was your friends?"
"Yeah."
"What did they do?"
"Told me they didn't like me anymore," he said, matter of factly.
Jesus couldn't help but laugh at that. "You serious?"
"Yeah," Adam said with a wide-eyed smile. "Bloody ridiculous, right? That's what happens when you're eleven and your friends are your entire world." The smile faded. "I didn't want to break it."
Jesus dragged his finger up and down his glass absentmindedly as he asked. "And now?"
"What about now?"
"If you were called now, what would you do?"
Carol popped by, dropping two plates of potatoes and fish. Along the side was a pile of green. Jesus frowned at it.
"Not a word about the mushy peas until you try them," Adam said, his fork raised in apparent threat. "I'm serious." He shoveled his fork into his own peas and began eating.
"You're ignoring the question."
Adam shook his head. "M'not. Just hungry. And it's best when it's straight out the fryer." He kept eating, totally uncaring of how Jesus hadn't touched his own. After a few minutes, and half a plate, he leaned back, licked his fingers and looked Jesus directly in the eyes as he said, "I don't know."
Jesus laughed exasperatedly. "Of course not."
"Hold on," Adam said with a raised finger. "I don't know what I would do if I, at my age, were to wake up with all that power and the lure of it. Growing up is hard and the world can be… cruel."
"Because of Hell."
"No." Adam shook his head. "Because of humans. Because of choice. A thing your Mother granted them."
Jesus frowned. "Granted? They disobeyed her-"
"Of course they did," Adam said, spreading his arms wide. "What were they supposed to do!?"
"Not," Jesus said, flatly.
"Just… not?" Adam scoffed. "Just… what? Live forever in paradise and never touch the most alluring and delicious fruit in the entire place? Never once have a moment of weakness? Never get curious? An entire race of people, simply satisfied with only what Mother is willing to give them? Come on. She's not stupid."
Jesus' face burned.
Adam continued. "It's not their fault. And you know it."
"So, what?" Jesus said with a shrug. "Should I be like you? Say 'No mum, I just don't feel like it,' and that's that?"
"Why not?"
"Because She's God!" Jesus said it a little louder than he intended, causing Adam to raise a hand and hissed softly and glanced around the pub to smile at everyone. Jesus dropped his voice to a whisper. "She's not Satan. Not some fallen angel. She's the Alpha and the Omega. I can't disobey her."
"Eveyrthing alright here?" Carol asked, looking between them. "You lot were getting a little loud."
"We're good, Carol. Thank you," Adam said, not taking his eyes off Jesus.
"And what about you?" she said, pointing to Jesus' plate. "Not good enough for you?"
Jesus blinked at it, and her. "I err-"
"He's just not gotten to it yet. Give us a bit, yeah?"
"Alright…" she did not sound convinced as she walked off.
"You're right.” Adam said, his voice softening. “You can't fight her, not alone, at least. No one can do anything alone. You need friends, allies. I dunno. It’s tough where you are. That Gabriel seemed like a real prick when I met him."
"He's gone."
This was news to Adam. "Really?"
"Yeah. Aziraphale is Supreme Archangel now."
"No shit," Adam said with a smile.
"Do you know him?"
"I do. And I think you have more allies than you realize.”
"Young!"
Adam rolled his eyes. The man from the bar stopped at their booth. Adam looked up at him. "Tyler."
"Your dog."
Adam's eyebrows lifted. "Yes?"
"He's been defecating on my lawn. Again."
"How can you be sure it's Dog? There are lots of dogs in town-"
"My Schutzi never lies." He said petting a bag he had slung over his shoulder. Jesus blinked. There was indeed a dog in there. "She knows a bad egg when she sees one and she's always barked every time that mutt of yours walks by."
"You do know that Dog lives with me at university, right? He's not been back at my parents for months." R.P.s face grew redder. Adam seemed to enjoy it. He leaned forward. "Or are you implying that Dog is somehow magically showing up on your lawn just to take a shit?"
"Watch your mouth, young man."
"I'm being serious though R.P. You sound like a nutter."
R.P. pointed a finger in his face. "I know it's him. And when I can prove it, I'm reporting both of you to the town council." He turned to face the bar and shouted, "Carol! I'm leaving," before turning and walking away.
Adam pressed his lips together, stifling his laughter.
"Is Dog your hellhound?" Jesus asked.
"Yeah," Adam said, his eyes darting in thought. "He really does love to shit on R.P.'s lawn."
"And you just let him…"
Adam shrugged. "Dog's harmless, really. Using miracles to take shits on R.P.'s lawn is the extent of his mischief. And if that's the worst that R.P. gets in this life, he'll be getting off easy. He's a mangy old bigot that one," Adam said, leaning towards Jesus. "Who goes to church every Sunday in between writing scathing op-eds for the Tadfield Inquirer on who should be allowed to use which bathroom. He's an arsehole, but even he deserves the ability to live. To choose. I honestly have no idea where he'll end up on your list. But he and everyone else ought to be punished or rewarded, here, in this life. That's it."
Jesus' mind swam as he stared down at his food. Still steaming despite it sitting out for at least fifteen minutes. He looked up at Adam.
"It's best when it comes straight out of the fryer."
Jesus nodded. Trying to focus on the food. It smelled good. "I'm scared," he said, softly.
"I know," Adam said. "I remember."
Jesus sighed. Nothing about this day had gone as expected. He picked up his fork, filled it with mushy peas and brought it to his mouth. Shocked, he looked to Adam, who was smiling.
"Good, yeah?"
"Really good," Jesus chuckled before taking another bite. And another. He was absolutely famished. The chips were even better. And the fish, perfectly crispy. He shoveled it all down within minutes and looked up to find Adam watching, his face wide in fascination.
Jesus felt his cheeks warm. He cleared his throat and wiped his face with a napkin. "Sorry about that-"
"Carol's going to be so happy." He looked past Jesus. "Carol!" She walked over, carrying a fresh order of chips. She looked at Jesus' plate. "He thought it was all right," Adam said seriously, fighting a smile.
"There's a good lad," she said, smiling at Jesus as she dropped the fresh tray of chips in front of him before taking his and Adam's plates away.
Silence fell between them again. Adam seemed to be waiting for Jesus to speak.
"I don't know… what to do. It's too much." He looked to Adam. "Can your side do something? To slow it down?"
"My side!?" Adam scoffed. "We're not exactly on speaking terms at the moment."
Jesus' shoulders slumped forward. "Of course."
"Although," Adam said, biting his lip, "there might actually be something. Are you a gambling man?"
"What do you mean gambling?"
Adam smiled softly before leaning forward. His eyes were a deep green, like the Mediterranean Sea. Jesus’ cheeks warmed as he watched Adam take a chip from his plate and pop it into his mouth, deep in thought.
“Has your Mother ever told you the story of Job?”