Lower Tadfield Safehouse

Belial stared right back at the angel, mildly intrigued at the intensity of the scrutiny. It certainly didn’t escape his notice. Though he hadn’t been particularly interested at first glance, or even at second, this – well, it intrigued him. He wondered if there was something illicit going on with that little whip of a demon.

“Sit. Stay. I propose a trade – anything you want,” he said with a smile, “if only you would give me your name.”

From:

After the initial blushing - it was a perfectly innocent phrase! Stop it! - Aziraphale hastily reminded himself he was over six-millennia old and therefore not a hormone-driven teenager. It was time to look past the fact that Belial was immensely attractive and remember the fact that he had offered him safe haven and was a high-ranking demon.

He smiled politely and extended his hand. "My name is" he remembered who he was standing next to, "Aziraphael. I thank you for the kind offer, but you've already done quite a bit for me, if I understand correctly. My name is hardly proper compensation."

From:

“On the contrary,” Belial said. He accepted – Aziraphael it was, then – the angel’s hand and dropped a kiss on the back of it, the motion so deft that, had he done it to a mortal, they might have only had a vague sense of anything having happened at all.

“Knowing your name is worth more than you would ever reckon.” He released Aziraphael’s hand and nodded to Gabriel. Dryly, “Gabriel. Ever pleasant to see you. Shall I fetch that mousse for you gentlemen?”

From:

Gabriel noted the exchange silently. Belial was very attractive, true, but surely Aziraphael knew better than to succumb to his charms. After all, he'd thwarted the wiles of his own counterpart for six millennia. He remembered the mess Raphael had landed in after insisting on paying and decided to step in.

"It is pleasant to see you too," He smiled. "But if you don't mind, I'm paying for Aziraphael and myself. And I would prefer it if you could name your price now. Do I have the option of requesting another method of payment if I am unable or unwilling to pay your price?"

Aziraphael had left in a hurry and Belial had done him a favour? What was going on here?

From:

Sourly, Belial said, "I've already been paid by Aziraphael. Manner of my choosing, remember?." Aziraphael's name was worth a good deal to Belial, in the right circles. Perhaps he could figure out why they seemed to be so afraid of Beelzebub.

It was all about leverage.

"Pick your battles and don't worry about what I find to be of worth," he advised with a Do Not Push Your Luck tone. "As for your payment -- if you've the stomach for it, I could use a set of candles. Red and blue wax, at least twelve inches long. Human made, not conjured. I don't want supernatural taint on them."

From:

He had been paid by Aziraphael? By simply knowing his name? Gabriel frowned, but didn't push it. It wasn't a good idea to antagonise Belial. Especially since he was providing food at the moment.

He raised an eyebrow. "Candles? Very well. When do you need them by?" He tried not to wonder what the demon needed candles without a 'supernatural taint', as he put it, for.

From:

Aziraphale was more than used to demonically odd demands (candles? Nothing compared to the time Crowley wanted three bottles of wine, some ribbon, chopsticks and a pair of socks - Aziraphale STILL didn't know what for, and that had been three hundred years ago) and abrupt mood swings (Crowley could go from being completely suave and collected to being on the verge of a nervous meltdown to being a complete and utter arse in a matter of minutes). However, he was awfully proud of himself for resisting the urge to chastise Belial for being rude to Gabriel.

He was thankful, however; for a moment there, after Belial had kissed the back of his hand of all things, he had been hard-pressed to find any train of thought he could hop back on to. A patient internal eye-roll at demonic posturing was something very familiar to him.

He smiled and placed a hand on Gabriel's upper arm. "When I go to London to pick up my books, I can look for you, or you can look for yourself if you come along; if it isn't too late by then of course."

From:

Gabriel smiled back. "I would love to join you. I'm not sure when Belial here needs his candles, though. If you would prefer them as soon as possible I'll have to look around Lower Tadfield," he added to Belial before turning back to Aziraphael. "I don't need candles as a motive to tag along, however; I'm interested in seeing your bookshop anyway. Besides, it's been a very long time since I've seen London."

Admittedly, he hadn't liked it that much. He hadn't seen the attraction, really. Gabriel much preferred the countryside. Still, perhaps the scenery had improved.

Perhaps he could bring one of the other archangels along too. He wondered why so many angels, demons and old gods seemed to be congregating at the Manor. Was He planning something? And why wouldn't the Messenger, at least, have been told?

For now, though, he had chocolate mousse and - hopefully - decent conversation to look forward to. The questions could wait for later, preferably when there were no demons around. Not that he disliked Belial, but it was one thing to like a demon and another to trust him, especially if you had only recently met.

He pulled out a bar stool for Aziraphael and another for himself, sitting down and tapping a bare foot against one of the stool legs absentmindedly.

From:

He counted off the days on his mental calendar; the flow of time here was less familiar, and he sometimes lost track of the days and weeks.

"Two weeks from now, at the latest," he interjected. They were wittering on about trips to London and such. Belial had never liked the place. Too cold.

He missed the desert. Hand still on the beer taps he licked his lips, recalling the blisteringly dry heat with great relish.

"Would you like something to drink with your dessert?" He grinned, narrow and sly. "Booze is always on the house, as long as you have good taste. I charge extra for rotgut."

From:

Aziraphale felt a little guilty at that - he had brought plenty of wine with him from Soho and it really seemed unfair that he should abuse Belial's hospitality as such. He did a mental inventory of what he had brought with him and smiled cheerfully.

"Actually Mr. Belial, now I propose a trade - I have a 1792 Blandy's Madeira upstairs that I would be happy to give to you in exchange for vintage port, if you have any, now. Or, really, any wine that would go well with the mousse."

It would be trading down in terms of wines, he knew, and he had been saving the bottle for a special occasion, but really, those had been few and far between for awhile now, and Belial was already doing so much for him, it seemed like a fair trade in the end. Besides, Aziraphale really needed some alcohol in him at the moment.

The angel sighed and frowned at the thought. Crowley would likely be too paranoid to get drunk for awhile yet. In fact, the poor thing was more worried about Aziraphale's theoretical impending doom than Aziraphale was, maybe he should go back upstairs and check on him, maybe comfort him a bit? But Crowley was taking a nap and there was chocolate mousse down here and...

Aziraphale stared at Belial's hands resting on the beer taps as he internally debated.

From:

Aziraphael looked odd; Gabriel rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concerned.

He turned to Belial. "I'll try to get them to you in a week," he smiled. If Aziraphael wouldn't be going to London soon, he didn't mind looking around the town area of Tadfield.

From:

Aziraphale started at the touch on his shoulder. Right. He shook his head to cut off his train of thought - he and Crowley could have a nice breakfast in the morning to make up for Aziraphale spending the night out. That would likely make him feel better.

"Oh, just. Thinking too much. A tad homesick, that's all. Thank you, dear." Aaaaand he just referred to One of the Seven Who Stands Before the Lord as "dear." Aziraphale looked forward to not visiting the library for at least a week.

From:

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. Had the Principality just referred to him as 'dear'?

Perhaps that was more commonplace these days, though.

"Homesick?" His eyebrow was in danger of disappearing into his hairline. "Are you referring to Heaven or London, may I ask?"

From:

Aziraphale was still red from his endearment slip-up, but if Gabriel wasn't going to call him on it, he certainly wasn't going to call HIMSELF on it.

"Oh. Well, both are... well, obviously Heaven is Home of course, but having been stationed on Earth for so long I've long come accustomed to the ache that not being there has put in me." To the point where he honestly no longer felt it unless someone pointed it out, like right now. "On the other hand, I spent a lot of time in my bookshop in London, so to leave..."

He smiled as cheerfully as he could. "But! It's nothing a little wine won't fix, to be sure."

From:

"I understand, dear." Gabriel said straightfacedly. "I will admit, though, that occasionally the beauty of Earth can almost surpass Heaven."

He fiddled with a tiny hole in his jeans; the kitten's claws were surprisingly sharp and he could evidently be fierce if his tail was pulled, however gently.

"Ah yes. The demon is also located in London, am I right? Doesn't that affect your work? Do you see him often?" If he fought regularly with the demon, his aura would have shown signs of it; yet he could not sense anything of the sort.

From:

Aziraphale considered discorporating this body out of embarrassment. At least Gabriel seemed to be a sport about it, so maybe he could avoid the library for two days instead of a week.

Usually Aziraphale could easily lie about Crowley and their "relationship" or whatever it was, but yet, in the presence of two beings who would likely not approve said relationship, he merely stammered out, "Yes. Demon in London. Thwart his wiles all the time, I do. Crafty, well-informed adversary he is, but Good always prevails in the end, of course."

Aziraphale really, really needed that wine.

From:

Belial had propped his chin on his hand, watching Aziraphael. He'd taken a moment to retrieve a lovely, sweet and fragrant bottle of port like the angel had asked, and turned the bottle in his free hand, chilling it with his fingertips.

An angel, lying -- and not very well, at that. Perhaps there was something interesting here, after all.

"His wiles?" Belial asked, amused, sure that the lanky little demon the angel had been been pinballing about with in the lobby didn't have a decent bit of proper malice in his whole body.

Didn't smell enough like violence -- and anyways, he wasn't even important enough for Belial to have remembered his name. He'd had a pretty enough face, but there were enough fair faces in Lucifer's entourage that Belial had grown bored with perfection.

He quirked one eyebrow. "I'm sure you do. Terrible things, demons."

From:

Aziraphale was under the sinking suspicion that the weight of everything was coming down on him at this very moment, as he was starting to tremble slightly and was stammering like a young, guilty child. He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. Yes, he was tired; yes, he was in danger; yes, he had been uprooted rather abruptly; yes, he was now in the company of two beings who could kill him easily (although only one of them would likely find cause to). He would not have a panic attack. He simply wouldn't. He willed his corporation to agree with him.

He put on his best smile. "Crowley - that is his name," he explained to Gabriel, "actually is quite good at his job; he tends to think very broadly, attempting to tarnish millions of souls at a time instead of damning one soul at a time. In fact, if not for me, I dare say most of London would be Damned by now." Me and Crowley's ridiculously short attention span, he admitted to himself.

He stared at the wine bottle Belial was twirling. "And I meant no offense to you personally, of course, Mr. Belial. But... well, I'm sure you bear no great love for angels either. You understand."

There. Nicely recovered. With a little wine and chocolate mousse he should be back to normal. Also, that wine looked downright delicious, and Aziraphale made a mental note to bring down his trade when he got the chance.

From:

The Principality was stammering. And trembling. Even if he wasn't able to sense that the other was not being completely honest, Aziraphael's body gave him away.

The other angel seemed to have recovered himself and was speaking normally. Perhaps the best thing to do was wait for the angel to get some wine in him and loosen up a bit more.

"Well done," Gabriel murmured. "Might I ask how you save those millions of tarnished souls at one time?"

From:

Aziraphale smiled at the question. "Oh, it's simple really. I do my best to undo the damages when I can, and influence humans to do the thwarting themselves, so that they grow stronger from it." He also distracted the demon, in theory, but it really wasn't distraction anymore, was it? Oh well.

"But! That is neither here nor there, as until things settle down some I doubt I'll be doing much human-influencing. In fact, I'm actually excited to be around people," he nodded to his two companions, "who know what I am. ... ... and have wine and chocolate mousse!" he finished with a grin.

From:

Belial placed two bowls of chocolate mousse on the bar counter, and poured the fragrant port into two beautiful crystal glasses. "Bon appetit," he murmured, smiling at Aziraphale, nodding to Gabriel and disappearing into the backroom.

"Merci," Gabriel responded, picking up his spoon. He smiled at Aziraphale. "I'm sure you won't mind postponing business for a while?"

The aroma of the chocolate was heady and alluring. Gabriel took a tentative bite and almost moaned. Belial had certainly not been lying; it was smooth and silky, and the taste was indescribable; almost heavenly, and yet there was just enough bitter dark chocolate to prevent it from being cloyingly sweet. He had tasted many things during his travels, but nothing had come close to this.

From:

Aziraphale nodded and thanked Belial, feeling both disappointed and thankful when the demon vanished, giving his two patrons some privacy.

Aziraphale smiled back at Gabriel. "It's not as if we're on official business anyway," he replied, "so we can postpone 'business' for as long as you'd like."

Aziraphale took a spoonful and did moan. It was just exactly what he needed - it felt like getting his wings rubbed - it was utterly and absolutely perfect, and exactly what he needed to boost his spirits.

While 99 percent of his mind was indulging, the remaining percent had to admit that Belial's mousse was better than his. Oh well - it's not like mousse was one of Aziraphale's specialties anyway (or so that one percent insisted). Some day he would share his chocolate caramel ice cream cake.

From:

Gabriel couldn't help but laugh when Aziraphael moaned. "So, Aziraphael, is his mousse better than yours?"

He took another unbelievably wonderful spoonful, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss, before sipping some port and sighing.

How did humans come up with things like this after creating atrocities like overboiled cabbages?

From:

Aziraphale finally remembered he had company, so he put down the bowl in order to stop himself from eating it and ignoring Gabriel. "I did speak too soon, I'm afraid. It must be a specialty of his. I don't think I've ever had chocolate mousse this good before!" He took a sip of wine. "I will have to come back some time and cajole the recipe out of him. Chocolate mousse isn't one of my own dessert specialties, but I do have others that I might be able to trade him in return."

It was nice for Aziraphale to be here with Gabriel, of all angels. After all, thousands of years ago, Aziraphale had been the one to introduce Gabriel to the wonder that was "xocolātl" while turning in his report. The Archangel would certainly sympathise with why Aziraphale had since learnt to create his own dessert delicacies.

He picked up the bowl and took another spoonful, sighing in bliss. Maybe spending time here wouldn't be so bad after all.

From: