trickntreats | the trick to life / is not to get too attached to it

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the trick to life / is not to get too attached to it

The thing about a cottage covered by wards created by the Antichrist in which an angel and a demon lived was that, once two others and a cat joined them, it got very small very quickly. Especially when one of them was Gabriel. The wards extended only so far, and the Archangel started making a habit of pacing the borders, occasionally stretching his wings and squinting, not entirely certain whether he couldn't see the wards because he wasn't meant to or because his angelic eyes were healing just that slowly. He couldn't really afford to risk his scouting trip until he knew he could handle Heaven's forces.

After the first night he had remembered that he still had Re-l's kitten still tucked away in a metaphysical pocket somewhere among his wings and fished the still half-asleep cat out to leave on the foot of Re-l's bed. Once it woke up, however ... well, to say that 'more room was needed' was a bit of an understatement. The kitten was already the size of a small dog. A renovation was probably in order.

Right at this moment, his Grace practically vibrating with restlessness, Gabriel flopped on the couch and whined: "I'm bored."

... Really, they were lucky he hadn't yet gone beyond flour-drops, newly-painted walls and random changes in furniture (or, as in the case of the garden, occasional additions).

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Crowley was getting testier and testier by the close quarters. He wanted his room and his bed back, but he'd given it to Re-l. He wanted to sleep properly instead of dozing on the couch or in the garden. He didn't blame their guests... Exactly. No one was really to blame. But it didn't make it any easier.

He was in the kitchen making himself some tea when Gabriel opened his mouth just to whine.

"Good for you."

Sleep, psh. What kind of angel needed sleep, except a Fallen one. ... Oh. Right.

"How have you guys not gone crazy already?" he grumbled, flipping around so he was on his back and then stretching his legs, kicking off his shoes. "This place is too small. You need more room. Renovation!" He snapped his fingers in a way that made the wallpaper turn purple with orange polka-dots. "We should add on a couple of rooms!"

He looked seriously unimpressed at the way the room was changed. "That's bloody hideous."

He came around to sit on a white leather chair. He sipped his tea, staring at Gabriel.

"While I agree that we need more space, leave the common areas alone."

"It is, isn't it?" Gabriel said with a smirk, and with another snap made the wallpaper red-and-blue tie-dyed. And then another snap, red-and-green tartan. Another, pink cross-hatches. Finally, with a sigh, he turned it back how it should have been. "Killjoy."

He rolled over again, flopping so his arms and head were resting on the arm of the couch, and waggled his eyebrows. "What do you guys do for fun around here?"

He didn't react at all to the amazing changing wallpaper, though he nodded in silent thanks when it went back to it's original pattern. Aziraphale would have loved the tartan.

Crowley's idea of fun was terrorizing the plants and then going out to dinner with Aziraphale. They would come home (perhaps taking a circuitous route so Crowley could speed longer and make the angel complain) and then drink wine on the couch while watching a movie. Or Cheers. Most of that he couldn't really do anymore with their guests in the house.

"Take a walk on the beach? Tend the garden? Television? Talk?"

"Done that, I'm not interested in having you glaring at me all week, and isn't that what we're doing right now?" Gabriel checked each comment off on his fingers as he spoke, and then tapped his mouth. "I suppose there's always having some fantastic sex. You can tell this place doesn't get any. It's all stuffy."

"You asked me what we do for fun." He shrugged.

"I'm going to have to burn that bed, aren't I?"

"Maybe," Gabriel said with a smirk, and deliberately didn't go into details. Let the Fallen angel wonder over just what had happened, and how, and how many times. (And who was involved.)

"You need to liven things up around here!" He threw up his hands, rolled over again, and heaved a very large sigh, his fingers drumming on his knee. "So we need another bedroom," he decided. "How about a fun room? I can do that. Maybe with one of those little plastic ball-pits. You ever had sex in one of those little plastic ball-pits?"

He whistled.

He couldn't believe he was having this conversation. He pointedly avoided thinking about what Gabriel was doing in his blasted bed. As far as he was concerned, he would never spend another night in it. He was going to need a whole new bedroom just for himself and move his things from the other one into it.

"Are you bloody kidding?"

One thing he quietly kept to himself was that he actually had not participated in carnal pleasures. So no. He hadn't ever had sex in a ball pit.

"Now whatever makes you think I might be doing that?" Gabriel asked innocently, bouncing easily to his feet and cracking his fingers. He peered around the room, measuring the walls with his hands. "Let's see, let's see ... whereabouts have you ever wanted an extra room, bro?"

"Because I heard you."

He bristled a bit at being called "bro", though he was trying to believe it was just a speech pattern like Aziraphale's "dear"s. He gestured to the side of the cottage opposite the existing bedroom.

"I was thinking over there."

"If you did, it only proves someone had a good time, doesn't it?" Gabriel said glibly. He'd tried to sound-ward the room ... it was entirely possible, given his state at the time, that it hadn't worked out too well.

He turned, pointed with both hands, and then grinned. "Got a specific colour-scheme in mind, or are ya gonna make me make it up for you?"

"We have a good time without shagging like rabbits." He just preferred to not kiss and tell. Some things were better kept private.

"White." You remember his room, don't you? The one that wasn't his anymore? Yeah, it was all white like his flat in Mayfair. Modern style that makes most people nervous of staining it? Totally up his alley.

His room, the one that wasn't his anymore, wasn't white anymore either. Gabriel had redecorated.

"Boring," Gabriel sighed, shaking out his wrists like an artist about to begin a masterpiece. In truth, he was a little ... worried. The last time he'd done this, he'd been blinded. He had his Grace back now, sure, but he was still injured and there was no telling what was going to happen.

Last time, he'd tried to make it by letting the universe align itself naturally with his want. This time, he went up to the wall and set his hands against it, and took his Grace to it step-by-step. It was slow, rippling, the wall bending inward and curving through dimensions; Gabriel's hands--his angelic hands--spread, forcing the wall where he wanted it, his wings propping it up, carving out the corners. (His flight-wings he kept spread, aloft, like a barrier against the Grace so Crowley wouldn't have to feel it any more than he would have felt a fire in a hearth from several feet away.)

Then he let the room settle, very carefully took his limbs away, and breathed out with relief when the room didn't waver at all. "Well. Glad I can still do that."

With a snap the room was furnished exactly as Crowley's old one had been, even as the Archangel made a face to display his disapproval.

He wasn't impressed. Nope. Why would Crowley, a demon, be impressed by Gabriel, an angel? No reason he could see. Not even forcing his bedroom into reality.

Okay, so maybe he was a little impressed.

He opened the door of the new room and looked inside. Everything was as it should be. Good. Of course, with the way it was perfect to every detail, he simply expected all of his things to have been transferred. If he checked, he would find they had.

He turned back to Gabriel and hesitated a moment. Demons didn't typically express gratitude, but yet...

"Thanksss..."

Edited 2012-08-04 10:35 (UTC)

Well, they’d been copied, anyway. What, was Gabriel going to just leave the room unfurnished. Psh. Besides, he’d already changed what they looked like. The Archangel flapped a hand casually. “Oh please, you’ll make me blush. So!”

Gabriel ambled back toward the couch, flopping back on it and snapping up a giant caramel sundae with a spoon and an umbrella. “Now that we’ve bonded and all that, tell me stuff. Hear you’ve got a green thumb? A demon with a gardening fetish?” He grinned. “This I’ve gotta hear about.”

Something about the way he said ‘demon’ was off. Like it was a nickname he didn’t take seriously, more than a real description.

"Bonded? Is that what you call it?" Crowley's moved back into being unimpressed.

Still, he sank down into one of the comfy chairs opposite the couch with a glass of red wine in his hand. Everything that came out of Gabriel's mouth rubbed him the wrong way.

"It's not a fetish. It's a hobby." A throwback to when he felt he had no control over his life and had to take it out on helpless little plants.

“Hey, I did something for you, you thanked me, I call that bonding,” Gabriel said with a shrug and a smirk, spreading his hands a bit and somehow managing to keep the ice-cream from spilling. He jabbed his spoon in Crowley’s direction. “Sure, whatever. How’d you pick that one up? Wouldn’t’ve figured there was much place for a garden down south.”

He looked from the spoon to Gabriel's face and back. "I was in Eden."

That was an explanation, wasn't it? Gardening, well... It felt natural. Like a half forgotten memory. He picked up the hobby as he wandered the Earth, scaring random plants into submission and greener leaves. It was relieving having something to take it out on when below contacted him and bossed him around like he meant nothing. In his first home, he began actually keeping plants.

Oh. Well then. That sort of made Gabriel feel maybe a little bad, and the chagrin showed through in the way he yanked the spoon back, the stem slapping into his palm. The Archangel dug it into the his ice-cream and chattered on to cover the sudden shift--not to mention the realisation that Crowley had just given him a possible clue as to who he'd been.

"Oooh, one of the green thumbs, eh? Or black thumbs? I'm still not sure all the guys assigned to that Garden actually knew what they were doing."

Edited (typos) 2012-08-27 11:55 (UTC)

He shrugged a bit. As far as he knew, it had been all His work. "I was a serpent then."

The serpent, the one that caused the original sin. And he was still convinced that the Old Man overreacted to all that business. And he could only imagine ~~not really what kind of messes they would have gotten into if they didn't know right from wrong...~~

"A serpent?" Gabriel stared blankly for a minute. Okay, well, that stumped him. The serpent Gabriel knew wouldn't have repented, but Crowley obviously did in some fashion. Obviously there was a pretty big difference there. Either the serpent Gabriel knew had repented here, or who Crowley had been hadn't been the serpent.

"I got nothin'," he decided, and with a snap and flick of his fingers sent a flambe cherry jubilee at Crowley. "Go on, you look hungry." He paused. "Not sure if that's for this or something else, though."

"The serpent. You know... With the apple and everything. 'Sss why those bastards down below ssstill call me 'Crawly'. Had little legs before that incident."

He shrugged. Crawly never did suit him. Crowley was much better. It fit him like a glove. And even Aziraphale never called him Crawly anymore.

"Funnily enough, I know what serpents are," Gabriel said, giving the Fallen angel an exasperated look that morphed into something gleeful. "Little legs, eh? Tiny 'lil ittybitty legs? I'm thinking ..." He pursed his lips, tilted his head, snapped his fingers. "Gecko."

Distract, avert, defend. If Crowley knew Gabriel was trying to figure out who he was he'd clam up and the Archangel wouldn't get anywhere. Tell you what, the guy was clueless, though. Didn't even peg that there might be innuendo in Gabriel's little gift. Must be a terrible demon.

"Gecko? Not really. Maybe more like a skink..."

He blew out the dessert and nibbled at it absentmindedly.

"Aziraphale and I met in the Garden after that whole business..."

"What, and that's much better? At least geckos are cute. Sorta." He really was oblivious, wasn't he? Gabriel watched the Fallen angel with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

Crowley had totally missed the innuendo, and then went on to prove how smitten he was. Fantastic. "Oh, really?" he said dryly. "Angel-demon mingler, or just happen to run into one another?"

"No, it was after He'd banished Adam and Eve. I slithered on over and made a conversation after the dust had settled and they were on their way. I mean, I saw him before then, but we didn't really talk much."

The new room was . . . well, Aziraphale hadn't been consulted about it, which was annoying, but it made Crowley feel better so that was all right. Still, it was odd-looking and made Aziraphale a little nervous, though logically he knew that Gabriel could conceal that kind of small thing (well, relatively small) from the Authorities.

He'd been avoiding Gabriel a bit since that first night, actually. Not because he didn't want to talk to him - he did, in general, and in a strange and very specific way that he wasn't comfortable with quite yet - but he knew that if he and Gabriel actually go into a conversation, the archangel would know. He'd just know. He was annoying like that.

Then again, it was hard to avoid one person in a two-person cottage currently occupied by four people and a mutant desert kitten, so when Aziraphale ran into Gabriel in the kitchen a few mornings later he smiled politely and tried to be casual. Unfortunately, he knew that he was very, very bad at casual.

In point of fact, Gabriel already knew. It was, in part, the way Aziraphale was avoiding him. It was mostly the way that the other angel practically glowed whenever Crowley was around. If Gabriel hadn't already seen what they were like before, and had a comparison, maybe he wouldn't have noticed.

But, those rare occasions Aziraphale consented to be in the same room with Gabriel and Crowley at once, the Archangel could tell. It was in the resonance between them of which Aziraphale wasn't quite cognizant. The shine. The little things of which Aziraphale hadn't cared enough to note, and was now too smitten to see.

So Gabriel wasn't going to let go of this opportunity.

"Hey bro," Gabriel said cheerfully from where he sat on the counter, kicking his feet and completely surrounded by dirtied sundae glasses. Sure, he could have just used one and refilled it, but that wasn't as satisfying as being able to keep count. He tilted his newest sundae toward his brother. "Want a snack?"

Aziraphale started to count the sundae glasses and then gave up, shaking his head with a disapproving (although slightly fond) sigh. Honestly, why would he expect anything else? Obviously Gabriel took satisfaction in indulgences well . . . indulged in, and Aziraphale couldn't entirely blame him.

Sitting on the counter was obviously completely inappropriate, but he'd let it go. This time.

"I might," he said, still not looking directly at Gabriel. "Though I've never been one for sundaes."

"Pssshh." Gabriel waved the hand with the spoon in it. "Philistine. Fine; go ahead and pick something else, and I'll conjured you up a dessert fit for a king. Or queen. Or angel, as the case may be."

The Archangel shrugged easily, spooned out some ice-cream, and ate it happily with a child-like hum. "'Course," he added, "that's only if you actually look at me."

He was in the middle of rolling his eyes with as much exaggeration as he could put into a single motion when - well, at that last he actually looked at Gabriel in surprise. Damn - er, something him for being observant.

"I am looking at you," he said, and promptly looked away, sticking his head in a cupboard to rearrange something that did not actually need rearranging. "And how am I the philistine? Gateau would be acceptable."

"Anyone who doesn't like ice-cream is a philistine," Gabriel informed him. "Also, that doesn't count. Surprised consternation never counts. Especially since it only lasted a fifth of a second." He sighed dramatically. "But since I'm such a wonderful older brother, I'll give you a treat anyway."

So saying, he snapped up a Black Forest gateau, and neglected to mention that there may have been some tabasco in the middle.

Although Aziraphale should have known by now that some things never changed, he didn't suspect foul play in the gateau, not even a bit. This was partially because he was distracted trying to figure out how to look at Gabriel without him being able to see everything. Which would be tremendously uncomfortable. He pulled the cake toward himself and took a very small bite of the outside, frowning slightly at the strange, almost undetectable spicy aftertaste. Odd.

"Well," he said distantly, "you're very giving, after all." It was default, autopilot sarcasm, and he felt a little dishonest about looking past Gabriel's ear as he spoke.

"I really am, aren't I?" Gabriel agreed pleasantly, swirling his spoon in his cup to mix up the ice-cream and the topping, and watching his brother with a sort of lazy interest.

"I dunno, though," he said thoughtfully, sucking off his spoon with a slurp and then smirking. "I think you've been pretty giving lately too, bro." The Archangel left note of just who Aziraphale was giving to, and timed it just as Aziraphale took a bite of a section of the gateau's centre.

He would have choked regardless, at that comment. But he'd spent the last thirty seconds or so trying to figure out what on earth was in this gateau to make it so odd-tasting, and as he put the spoon in his mouth he felt a sense of impending dread. Too late to do anything about it, though: his eyes started watering, tongue burning, and he swallowed as quickly as he could manage, gagging and choking.

Suddenly there was a cup of water in his hand, which he drank, put in the sink, and looked at for a moment. Then he threw the spoon at Gabriel in a fit of pique.

"Really?" What a waste of a perfectly good gateau. He was ignoring the other part, though. Obviously.

The spoon bounced off Gabriel's head and the Archangel barely noticed, because he was too busy laughing it off. (He was actually rocking back on the counter, almost hitting himself on the wall behind, and then forward again, somehow managing not to knock over any of his sundae glasses.)

Finally the Archangel got a hold of himself--sort of--and settled again. At least, he stopped rolling in his seat. He didn't stop laughing. "Your face."

With a broad grin Gabriel looked at his brother and jabbed his spoon at him. "I'd say you'd better not show that face to Crowlikins, but I'm pretty sure he'd give you the kissy-face back no matter what expression you were wearing."

"I don't know what you're - " Aziraphale began, and then pinched the bridge of his nose. There really wasn't any point. Gabriel obviously knew. Of course he did. Why wouldn't he? Ugh.

"I'm going to assume he didn't tell you and you just . . . " He waved his hands around irritably. "Knew. Somehow. The way you know things."

"You're not exactly subtle," Gabriel told him, slurping out the dregs of the ice-cream and then setting the glass aside. A moment later he'd snapped up another, which he happily dug into. "And that's coming from me, bro, which means you're really really UNsubtle."

He wasn't going to mention just how he knew. Hey, he had to maintain some measure of mystery, right?

"Right," he said sourly. "Some sort of mystical cosmic cross-universal brotherly knowledge?"

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the trick to life / is not to get too attached to it

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Good god these assholes are so married. Why aren't they shagging yet?

because de nile isn't just a river in egypt.

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Fff... Please forgive my slow and account fail. ;A;

i have no idea what you're talking about /halo

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lol dat html fail of mine

saw nuffin

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