Good Omens: The Bachelor Party (Aziraphale x Crowley)

Chapter Three: The Dance of the Serpent

Everyone at the tables applauded as the magician pulled a rabbit out of one of Newt's shoes, which he'd grabbed earlier on in the act.

"And that's why you should always check your shoes for dust bunnies," the magician, Penn, said with an emphatic wave.

He and his partner, Teller, bowed before their ecstatic audience.

Aziraphale clapped and couldn't contain the huge smile on his face. Any notion of a boring or abhorrent evening had left his mind ages ago.

A few of the waiters came by and took the emptied plates. The food had been quite delectable, despite his initial concerns of the chaos from before. The starter consisted of a smoky salmon tartar with lemon and capers and had been brought out at the beginning of the magic act, which had been followed by the main dish, filet mignon with sauce bordelaise with duchess potatoes and roasted broccoli. It had all been exquisite in taste, and all-around a pleasantly satisfying meal. He hoped dessert would come soon as he'd been looking forward to it since Crowley had agreed to serve his favorite, Tahitian vanilla crème brûlée.

He glanced at the demon, who had stood to shake hands with the magician pair as they left. It had been hard to believe how nice Crowley had been that evening.

Aziraphale froze with his hands on the table. His mind caught up with his line of reasoning that should've been apparent the entire time. He glanced around at the other guests. They were all having a delightful time, even Newt appeared to be smiling as he chatted with one of his relatives. Aziraphale swallowed down a slithering realization. Crowley was not nice. He might get away with it sometimes with Aziraphale or small children. But this span of niceties was far too bizarre to go unnoticed. He licked his lips and kept his eyes on the demon as he circled the room.

Crowley sat down next to him and propped his head with his hand, more relaxed than he'd appeared all evening.

"You foul fiend." Aziraphale scowled at him.

Crowley snapped his gaze to him, then a wide smile spread across his face. "Figure something out, my angel?"

Aziraphale huffed and tossed the napkin from his lap onto the table. "This was all some elaborate ruse, wasn't it? You still have something devilish planned for this evening; I know you must. It's why you've been so nice to everyone to counterbalance whatever scheme you have in mind. And if it's anywhere near as thoughtful as you've been thus far, then I should be very, very worried."

Crowley leaned forward and shifted his glasses to rest on top of his head. His eyes gleamed as the lights in the room dimmed. "Oh, angel, come on now. Would a demon of Hell plan anything diabolical?" He gave the angel a small pouting look.

Aziraphale opened his mouth, but the answer came bursting through the door before he could get out the words.

"Did someone call the police? Because we got a report of a very naughty boy here tonight." A dark-haired woman, who wore short black shorts and a white top that seemed near bursting as it tried to contain her, um, endowments, stepped through the door and twirled a plastic baton. She sauntered into the room, followed by a handful of women all dressed the same and even a pair of men in trousers that appeared tighter than Crowley's own slacks if such a thing were possible.

Aziraphale sighed and gave the demon a dry look. "Really, my dear? I thought I told you no temptations."

Crowley leaned forward as the music in the room grew louder with a rhythmic thumping beat. "I said I would only do what was typical at these kinds of things. Come on, look at the guys." He gestured at the men, who, for the most part, were cheering; however, Newt himself appeared utterly terrified. "They're all having fun. I don't see a problem."