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[stillnotfallen.livejournal.com]

Date: April 7, 2003, night
Status: Private Public ;) Aziraphale and Baraq  --- complete
Setting: The bar's karaoke machine
Summary: Aziraphale once again partakes of his secret karaoke love, but is he really alone...?

Aziraphale was feeling rather drained again, and a tad peevish on top of it. The best solution to these problems was to avoid contact of any sort, and do something he enjoyed. Like reading.

Or...

Although he argued with himself that it had been too soon his his last indulgence, his feet had other things in mind. He was standing outside of the bar. He said a few choice words about this predicament, but opened up the door sl-ow-ly, glancing around.

No one was in there.

He gave a soft sigh of relief, sliding in and closing the door before crossing the bar to the gleaming karaoke machine.

"Hello there," he said sweetly - Crowley often talked to his machinery, so why couldn't he? - as he patted the device on the top. "What am I going to be singing tonight?" He pressed a few buttons and the contraption came to life.

The angel frowned as the first song was "Arms of the Angel," a song that tended to make Aziraphale tear up, so he quickly changed it. The second song was "Heaven Knows," which made Aziraphale rather wary when he thought about it too hard, so again he changed it.

Oh, this one wasn't bad. He closed his eyes and listened to the music.

"I can't stop this feelin'
Deep inside of me.
Girl you just don't realize
What you do to me!" he sang, subliminaly moving his hips - no need to be improper.

"When you hold me in your arms so tight,
You let me know everything's all right!
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII - I'm hooked on a feelin',
High on believin'
That you're in love with meeeeeee!"

He threw one arm in the air dramatically as he held the last note.
 

Comments

[misterbkeele.livejournal.com]

It was time, Barnaby decided, to stop being silly.

The bar was demonstrably quite safe, otherwise half the guests would be speaking in tongues and breaking out into black spots. Belial would have to behave as much as any other entity in this place. Acting like a shivery little vole watching out for kestrels was, really, beneath him.

Even so, he found himself loitering in the stairwell that evening, feeling rather foolish.

"Keele, you stupid knockhole," he muttered, and forced himself through the door, down the corridors, and into the bar.

He had been expecting a great deal, except for sixties' pop music.

In moments of confusion, with no other reaction to fall back on, people tend to the polite, and Barnaby was no exception. "I. Er. Good evening, Aziraphale."

[stillnotfallen.livejournal.com]

Aziraphale hadn't been expecting company. In fact, he really hadn't been expecting company. To the point where in his utter shock he fired off a group of miracles that shut down the machine, turned off all the lights, and gave Aziraphale a bottle of something very strong.

"Er. Errrrr. Hello yourself, Barnaby," said the deer to the mountain lion who had the unfortunate timing to catch him singing karaoke aaahhh...!

[misterbkeele.livejournal.com]

In the fallout from the minor miracles, there was a momentary feeling of being blinded, which had nothing to do with sight. He said, when it faded, "...Did I interrupt something?"

[stillnotfallen.livejournal.com]

Oh, bugger. Now Aziraphale was completely blind in the pitch-black bar, but if he turned on the lights again Barnaby would be able to see where he was... if he couldn't already (which, Aziraphale had to admit, was likely the case). But he also didn't want to try getting away from the machine in the darkness lest he trip.

Also, his instincts were tingling just a bit, reminding him he was in a lightless room with a predator of angels; while Aziraphale could logically say he was perfectly safe, said instincts really wanted him to get ready to defend himself.

He sighed and took a drink from the bottle. Ah, the whiskey he'd avoided for so long, given to him by that one bartender who needed someone to listen to his tale of betrayal. "No," said Aziraphale with a wince on his face as the alcohol burned its way down. "Not at all."

[misterbkeele.livejournal.com]

Indeed, he could see well enough, not that it helped. Aziraphale's behavior was baffling. (Baraq's own instincts were hissing trap!; a more reasonable voice pointed out that it was a pretty lousy one, and besides, the angel wasn't that sort. Maybe.)

"Is that so," he said cautiously, stepping around an upturned stool. There was a machine half-hidden behind the angel, a screen with speakers and microphones, though he wasn't sure where he'd seen one before. It obviously wasn't a television. "It's a bit strange to be drinking alone in the dark, if you don't mind me saying. Were you expecting someone?"

[stillnotfallen.livejournal.com]

"Oh, you know me, I do strange things, ha ha," he said, drinking more. "Strange angel I am, drinking alone in the dark. Doing nothing but standing here in the dark while drinking." He could hear Barnaby moving and clutched his bottle tighter. "And no, I wasn't expecting anyone. Not that I'm displeased to see you of course. I'd share my drink with you but it's terrible. Er. So, ah, what brings you here?"

[misterbkeele.livejournal.com]

"Just looking around," Barnaby said, not exactly lying, which was better than what the angel was doing. You didn't need any supernatural sense to know that. Still, there wasn't any point in interrogating the secret out of him.

He changed the subject, walking over to the light switch: "So, what's that contraption behind you?" Then, "Ow," as light flooded the room.

[stillnotfallen.livejournal.com]

Aziraphale blinked when the light came on; while Barnaby was temporarily blinded this could be his chance to flee, but instead he froze to the spot.

"Oh, this thing?" he asked, his voice coming out higher pitched than he would have liked. "Who knows? Ha ha. Er. Oh, I was coming to see for myself. It's an... odd.. thing."

[misterbkeele.livejournal.com]

He had, Barnaby decided as the spots faded from his vision, just about had enough. "Why don't you turn it on, then?" he said, negotiating around the tables and chairs to cross the room. "It isn't as if it's going to spit acid in our faces."

[stillnotfallen.livejournal.com]

"That is very true!" Aziraphale agreed brightly, "I highly doubt this machine spits acid. However, I am not very current with technology I'm afraid..." He took two steps away from the machine, starting to feel like he had just dodged some sort of hellfire attack. "So that's the limit of my knowledge. Feel free to poke about it as you please. Would you like something to drink? Belial has a very laissez-faire policy when it comes to the bar's selection."

[misterbkeele.livejournal.com]

He started to say, I'll pass, thanks, and instead, "What would you recommend?" Barnaby wasn't terrifically interested in alcohol, but it seemed the right social thing to do.

He gave the machine a look-over before pressing the power switch. Briefly, he entertained the thought that it was for communication. Barnaby had no idea who had suggested it, but some years ago his superiors had started using any broadcasting device that happened to be around to call him up. As unpleasant shocks went, it ranked, oh, middling-high. It wasn't implausible that the opposition had followed suit.

That said, he was not surprised at a burst of —as candy,/Their taste stays on my mind,/Girl, you keep me thirsty for anotherrr cup of wi-ine!

Barnaby was not quite sure whether to cry with laughter or cover his head in his hands. "Oh," he said. "This explains much."

[stillnotfallen.livejournal.com]

"Well, when it comes to mixed drinks I tend to prefer things fruit-flavoured myself," Aziraphale admitted, sliding over to the bar in an attempt to get away from that machine.

He really ought to learn your secret, he told himself bitterly, It's just what you get for, for indulging in, in, well, well all right it has to be a sin even if you don't know -

as candy,/Their taste stays on my mind,/Girl, you keep me thirsty for anotherrr cup of wi-ine!

Aziraphale froze. As the song continued to play, he continued to think of some way to cover up what he'd been doing. I figured out how to turn the machine on, he plotted, only to be so startled by the music that I jumped and turned off everything in the room! Yes, yes that makes... sort of sense. Oh dear.

[misterbkeele.livejournal.com]

Barnaby fiddled with the controls. For a second, the volome jumped, but a little more tinkering later and the screen returned to the music selection interface.

"'Fess up, Aziraphale," he said, struggling not to let a let a grin escape. "This is what you were hiding, wasn't it?"

[stillnotfallen.livejournal.com]

Aziraphale now was torn between his earlier excuse, blurting out something akin to "I'm in love with Belial!" and fleeing, or telling the -- oh no. He would mock him for eternity if he knew!

"I wasn't hiding anything," he said primly. This was technically true. The karaoke machine had been in plain sight.

[misterbkeele.livejournal.com]

Barnaby opened his mouth, then shut it, tapping the edge of the counter. The impulse to tease was there, bright and alluring as a red button labelled "Do not press." He really did want to.

You know, the careful little voice said, the same one in the back of his head that kept an eye out for exit routes and that still didn't think this manor lark was a good idea, you've only gotten reacquainted with the angel after how many thousand years? Do you think he'd thank you for needling him like an older brother when you're nearly perfect strangers? One nice morning conversation does not a solidarity make.

Instead, Barnaby fingered a couple of stray shotglasses on the counter, saying, "Don't see why you're embarrassed. It's just music, after all."

[stillnotfallen.livejournal.com]

Aziraphale gaped.

Truth be told, he wasn't sure how to react to that.

"Er," he ventured finally, "well, it's not exactly... an appropriate pastime. For me. Or, more precisely, the type of human I'm trying to be. And I'm certain I'm not any good at it, so the less people who know..." He looked at Baraq pleadingly.

[misterbkeele.livejournal.com]

"I can keep secrets," he said with a shrug. There was a tiny conflicted squirm in his gut at this. Don't trust me, you idiot.

[stillnotfallen.livejournal.com]

Aziraphale smiled at him brightly. "All right then, I'll trust you. And, well, since Crowley refuses to come near the bar thanks to a certain Crown who technically operates it although really I think that might be in name only, the lazy git... Care to get utterly smashed and sing karaoke with me?"

[misterbkeele.livejournal.com]

"Well, I don't seem to have any other plans," Barnaby said. Er. Are we actually going through with it?

I don't know, but you'll do whatever you want, I'm sure.

"So, um." He gave the machine another look-over. "...How do you work this thing?"

[stillnotfallen.livejournal.com]

Aziraphale smiled. He really needed to forget everything - Beelzebub wanting him dead, Crowley being so distant, his superiors being so overbearing...

He decided to ignore the alcohol for a minute and walked over to the machine. "Well, you push this doohicky and turn this thing, and... ah ha!" He gestured to the screen. "We pick a song and sing. No harm in it. ... Though a bit of shame..."

[misterbkeele.livejournal.com]

Barnaby, in the meantime, had moved to the wine racks and selected a dry white at random. He wasn't really intending to get liquored up, but it was better than neat whiskey (or whatever engine fuel it was that Aziraphale had been drinking).

He peered around at the screen as he poured a couple of glasses. "I don't think I recognize most of these songs," he said, then frowned. "Like a Prayer? Concrete Angel? I don't think you can really sing along to Johnny Cash's 'God's Going to Cut You Down.'"

[stillnotfallen.livejournal.com]

Aziraphale winced. "I don't know why it does that," he confessed. "I seem to have a nasty effect on machinery, so maybe it's me, or maybe it's being smarmy, or maybe it's coincidence? I don't know. I simply don't know. Did you, er, have a particular song you liked?"

Aziraphale certainly had quite a few of them that he had grown fond of as Karaoke Songs Only, to the point where he would deny he had ever heard them any other time. He miracled his drink - hard grain alcohol, maybe? - into a nice red wine and continued drinking.

He needed to get drunk. He wanted to rock out.

[misterbkeele.livejournal.com]

Barnaby sipped his drink to hide a smile. "It may just be programmed to have a certain theme," he offered. "It's not as if it's an uncommon one."

He shrugged noncommittally at the question, flicking through the song list until he came upon the first one he recognized and had a simple tune. Barnaby could not actually remember the last time he had sung in public, even if public here was "one very old acquaintance and nobody else."

There was enough time to give Aziraphale a faintly sheepish look before the music started. No turning back now!

Oh, get me away from here, I'm dying,
Play me a song to set me free.
Nobody writes them like they used to
So they might as well be me...

His voice was deeper and rougher about the edges than the original singer, but it carried the tune fine.

[stillnotfallen.livejournal.com]

Aziraphale almost corrected him by saying that at least its theme wasn't lewd, like his laptop's, but let the argument rest. There was no way anyone would believe him about the laptop.

He smiled at Barnaby encouragingly and looked at the machine thoughtfully as the demon sang. What an interesting choice.

Aziraphale took over the second verse:

Here on my own now after hours,
here on my own now on a bus;
think of it this way,
you could either be successful or be us...

[misterbkeele.livejournal.com]

His voice faltered as the song continued. Barnaby was not a little self-conscious about his taste in music; for some reason, he was expected to listen to power metal or bombastic operatic strains, not mellow indie pop. Oh, well.

Oh, I'll settle down with some old story
About a boy who's just like me
Thought there was love in everything and everyone
You're so nai—

And that was when some flotsam or jetsam of dust caught in his throat, and Barnaby found himself doubled over, coughing half-fit to die.

"Sorry—" kaff, KAFF "—don't know what came over—" HACK "—frog in my throat, sorry. ...Ow."