Ineffable Interludes: Good Omens

Fruity Mixers pt 1

TW: implied homophobia

Fruity Mixers

PLAYLIST:

Raise Your Glass by P!nk

We R Who We R by Ke$ha

Enchanted by Taylor Swift

The only place the couple didn't stand out was at home. In Soho, full of artists, bohemians, and tourists, no one questioned the existence of a shop that sold perhaps two books a month, and yet always seemed to make rent. Aziraphale was unusual, but then so was everyone else in the neighborhood. He seemed to have a constant supply of art history and reference books, along with vintage sheet music, which made him the hero of the artistic set.

"Hey, Az?"

At the doorbell and voice, Aziraphale popped out of the back room to see a young man with blue hair waving at him from the cash register. "Paul, hello!What can I get you today?"

"I was wondering if I could commandeer your front window." Paul handed him a rainbow-covered flyer.

"'Couples Pride Night at the Fruity's,'" Aziraphale read out loud.

"My cousin's club," Paul explained. "They're having a mixer for queer couples. You know, since we're not accepted at regular clubs, we wanted to have a--"

"Safe space,"Aziraphale finished absently. "Of course, you can put that in front window. Forgive me, dear boy, isn't fruity traditionally an insult?"

"Yeah," Paul said, hanging up the poster. "But we're taking it back. The less things insult us, the less ammunition the opposition has.

"Angel!" Crowley's voice sounded from the floor above, followed by his pounding footsteps on the stairs. "Where did you put the--"

He caught sight of Paul and ran back up the stairs.

"It's okay," Aziraphale called after him. "He's a friend. Come say hello."

"Shit," Crowley whispered, and trudged back down. "Hello."

"Hi. I'm Paul." He offered his hand politely.

Crowley shook his hand grudgingly. "Pleasure. I'm Anthony Crowley. Az is letting me crash at his place while I'm in town."

"I've heard that before," Paul said dryly. "My cousin's club is having a couple's night. You two should come."

"Oh,I-I-I...don't have anything to wear," Aziraphale stammered. "And I don't really--"

"Come as you are!" Paul interrupted. "There'll be everyone from nudists to furries and everywhere in between."

"I don't—"

"We'll go,"Crowley said, and suddenly Aziraphale was outnumbered. Besides, he could hardly argue with someone that made a demon smile like that.

Crowley's wardrobe was literally built for clubbing; Aziraphale's needed a little work. The club would be much too hot for his sweaters and tweed, but eventually Crowley dug around in the angel's closet long enough to find black trousers and a blue button-down.

"This feels strange," Aziraphale remarked of the outfit.

"It looks smashing," Crowley informed him. "It's a shame we're not the same size, you'd look killer in my leather--"

"Absolutely not."

Crowley smirked and slipped on a pair of shades. Aziraphale gently removed the sunglasses and set them aside. "You don't need those, my dear,"he said firmly.

"What, you want everybody to see my snake eyes?" Crowley asked bitterly.

He snatched the glasses up, and Aziraphale snatched them away again. "No, I want to see your eyes. Your beautiful, golden eyes. It's a club, everybody will be in costume, anyway."

"You're trying to butter me up."

"Yes,"Aziraphale admitted, dropping the sunglasses onto the bed. "Come on."

They had to walk three blocks to the club because Crowley refused to hand the Bentley over to valet parking. Once there, they found that nearly everyone was indeed in costume. If anything, Crowley and Aziraphale were underdressed.

Paul spotted them from the bar, waved, and ran over. "You came! I didn't think you would!"

"I'm still not sure this is a good idea," Aziraphale shouted over the music. "I've never done anything like this!"

"First round's on me, second's on you!" Paul grabbed their hands and led them into the crowd. "Come meet the fam!"

An hour later, they'd consumed countless drinks, eaten their weight in popcorn and chips, and received hugs from half the people there. Nearly every person that Paul introduced them to gave a hug and bought a shot. Eventually, Crowley drank enough that he returned some of the hugs.

"Having fun, angel?" he shouted to Aziraphale.

"Actually, I am." Aziraphale looked around, at all the people dancing, drinking, and talking. "I might even be convinced to dance."

Crowley tossed back a shot of watermelon vodka; fruit-flavored drinks seemed to be the favorite around here. "Okay."

"Really?

"If it's important to you, angel, we can dance."

Aziraphale hadn't realized that it was important to him until Crowley mentioned it. He nodded. "It's important to me. I just—oh, it's silly."

Crowley blinked his yellow eyes; several people had complemented him on his realistic contact lenses. "Tell me."

"Everywhere we go, we can't be ourselves," Aziraphale explained in a yell. "But here, no one cares. I bet if one of us popped our wings out, nobody would even notice."

He recognized the look on Crowley's face and quickly said, "No, no, I didn't mean--

Before Aziraphale could stop him, Crowley extended his massive raven-black wings, holding them high above the crowd. All conversation ceased.

"--it,"Aziraphale finished glumly.

Paul jumped up on a chair, and shouted, "SICK COSPLAY!" Cheers broke out around them as people congratulated Crowley on his 'realistic costume'. A few people stroked his feathers, and he was so surprised that he let them. He didn't retract his wings until Aziraphale kicked him pointedly in the shin.

 The music switched to a slow song. Aziraphale held out his hand and Crowley followed him onto the dance floor.