(no subject)

[stillnotfallen.livejournal.com]

Date: March 29, 2003
Status: Private (Aziraphale) (Complete)
Setting: The bar at night
Summary: Everyone has their secrets.

 

Aziraphale looked into the bar – empty, as far as he could tell. He tiptoed inside, closing the door behind him, and he silently crossed the room. He placed the bottle of 1792 Blandy's Madeira – complete with a thank-you note but noticeably lacking the large tartan bow he’d been debating on adding – on the counter.

 

            He turned and saw it, sitting alone and forgotten in the corner.

 

            “A karaoke machine!” he gasped in glee.

 

            Angels have a predisposition to singing – there are entire Choirs devoted to doing nothing but singing, after all. Aziraphale is no exception to this rule. Vaguely familiar with karaoke due to exposure during nights about town with a certain demon, Aziraphale had found he had a certain passion – albeit a very very secret passion – for the pastime, as well as an angelic aptitude. His voice wasn’t good enough to have made it on the Choirs, but that was a discrepancy only another celestial being would be able to hear. To the uninitiated, Aziraphale had the voice of an angel.

           

            He snuck over to the machine poked around it; it was a bit more high-tech than what he was used to, but it didn’t take long for him to figure it out. Where there’s a will, there’s a way and all that. He put the player on random and held the microphone to his chest, still looking around the room to spot anyone who might have been in there. Content that he was alone, he frowned when he noticed that the player had chosen “Heaven Must be Missing an Angel.” Scowling, he changed the song, and this time the player loaded up “Send Me an Angel.” 

 

            “That’s just absurd,” he murmured, especially after the next random song came up as “Heaven is a Place on Earth.”

 

            He glanced around the bar again; still looked empty. How peculiar. Regardless, he finally chose his own song and began to sing:

 

“In the middle of the night
I go walking in my sleep
From the mountains of faith
To the river so deep
I must be lookin' for something
Something sacred I lost
But the river is wide
And it's too hard to cross…”

 

            This was one of his favourites. Not that he would ever listen to it in any other situation, much like the other bebop that came up (it was awfully hard, he had to admit, to sing karaoke to Liszt), but for singing…

 

“Even though I know the river is wide
I walk down every evening and stand on the shore
I try to cross to the opposite side
So I can finally find what I've been looking for…”

 

The tempo was slow but Aziraphale’s heartbeat wasn’t following it. This was the first time he had ever sung sober, which made it both more fun and more terrifying. He had to continue to remind himself that he was alone.

 

“In the middle of the night
I go walking in my sleep
Through the valley of fear
To a river so deep
I've been searching for something
Taken out of my soul
Something I'd never lose
Something somebody stole…”

 

Aziraphale played the air drums and sang, “I don't know why I go walking at night, but now I'm tired and I don't want to walk anymore; I hope it doesn't take the rest of my life until I find what it is I've been looking for!”

           
            He had to giggle a bit during the pause. He likely looked ridiculous, beaming as he was while still clutching the microphone nervously. But, for the moment, he didn’t mind.