demonicmiracle | (wsh) ic inbox

Oh, uh, right. Your husband. [ Ray laughs, a bit of a nervous edge to it. In an oh, you sort of tone: ] You two sure are unconventional, I dunno how you get away with it. I mean, your marriage can't actually be...

[ It's said in that well-intentioned-(maybe)-but-concerned-politeness gossipy Southern housewife kind of way, a little hushed, fascinated and conflicted. The brownies go into the oven and then Ray swans over with tea cups and kettle anyway, pouring one for Crowley, then himself.

He stage-whispers: ]

Legal, can it? [ He looks concerned for a moment, genuinely, then sips his tea. ] Oh! Did you two get my present? How did you like it?

[That laugh instantly puts him on edge, which is probably a good thing, because it stops him from reacting too obviously to the next thing that comes out of Ray's mouth.

It's hardly the worst thing anyone's ever said to him, and it's almost laughable in a way, considering that humanity's hang ups about sexuality are the least of the reasons they can't be together.

He takes the cup of tea on autopilot, like he does whenever Aziraphale makes it for him. He doesn't drink it, though, suddenly worried it might be poisoned or something.]

I'm not a man, Ray. Remember? [He says it simply, as if that doesn't open a whole other can of gender worms.] And it was very — thoughtful. Thanks.

[It's a little sarcastic, that thanks, but maybe Ray won't notice.]

Actually, I got something for you. Left it in the car, I ought to go grab it...

[It's a polite excuse to put his boots back on and get the hell out of this house. Maybe he can just hand the present over and then bail.]

You're not a--

[ I'm not a man, Ray, just gets raised eyebrows and a skeptical cock of the head, Ray looking simultaneously confused (blue-screened, almost, for just a second there) and vaguely patronizing (like when a kid tells you something adorably ridiculous), but then rather than process the statement further his expression just softens again pleasantly, hand raising to his heart.

(So, no, he didn't at all notice the sarcasm.) ]

Aw. No need to thank me, it was my pleasure. Merry Christmas. [ Now he reaches over, patting Crowley's hand. ] And no, c'mon, you shouldn't have!

[ His hands clap together a bit giddily despite the token protest, legs crossing primly as he takes a seat. Who doesn't enjoy a Christmas present? Ray takes another sip of tea, clearly having no intention of getting up to walk Crowley to his car. ]

You don't mind if I wait inside, do you? These darn legs of mine are just no good out in all that cold.

[If this weren't so fucking unsettling, Crowley would laugh, but while he's used to all sorts of weird things from Heaven and Hell, this Stepford bullshit is on a different level.

He manages not to flinch when Ray touches him, keeping his reaction to a brief clench of his jaw.]

S'just a little something. [Right, okay. Ray is sitting down, which isn't entirely helpful for his hastily constructed plan, but that's... fine, he can adjust.] Stay right there, I'll be back in a tick.

[He's just gonna — somewhat hesitantly slip out of the kitchen, hastily tugging his boots on. Out in the driveway, he considers that he could just leave, but there's something vaguely threatening about this whole business. He'd rather part on good terms.

So he grabs the present and comes back inside, opting to just tap snow off his boots rather than taking them off altogether, returning to the kitchen and holding out the present.

Inside is a box, in which is a silk tie, one of the ones Ray had been eyeing at the department store. Because he's a good friend.]

[ Ray still seems to notice nothing is off, not finding Crowley's behavior or reactions odd at all -- or if he does he certainly isn't showing it -- nor, for that matter, finding anything he said in the past five or so minutes out of line whatsoever. No doubt this entire visit will be completely mortifying to him tomorrow once he's back to normal.

As Crowley comes back into the house Ray casts a fussy, troubled look at his wet boots as he simply walks back in with them on, but Ray says nothing about it, lifting his eyes from the floor to the present being offered to him. ]

Oh, Crowley. [ Hand to his chest again, before he pulls the tie out. ] Oh, would you look at that.

[ He takes another few moments to admire it, feel the silk with his fingers and against his cheek, then he's standing to give Crowley a somewhat stiff, one-armed hug. Yeah, this will be weird tomorrow, or... whenever the next time they talk ends up being. ]

It's wonderful, thank you-- oh, and I have just the shirt to wear it with, too! Now I'm sorry I didn't get you both your own presents... maybe that'd have been more appropriate.? [ He looks conflicted, then pats Crowley's arm before stepping away. ] But I did pray on it, long and hard, and y'all could definitely use some more light in your life. I mean, like I can't even imagine, but Christmas is not the time of year to judge.

[He's going to throw himself back into the pond. It can't be worse than enduring one of the more awkward hugs of his existence, though he does at least give Ray a light pat on the back, just to not be completely rude.

His mouth opens to say something about the presents, but it turns into a bark of laughter at needing more light in his life.]

Oh, mate, it's far too late for me with all that. No amount of religious paraphernalia will make the Almighty love me again.

[So! That's the tea on that.

In the spirit of turnabout being fair play, Crowley gives Ray a condescending pat on the chest, before stepping back.]

I'll leave you to your brownies, hm? We can have a chat in a few days when you're feeling more yourself.

[ Ray's smile doesn't flag -- may, in fact, even grow a bit stronger -- at what he takes for self-depreciation, because that is something Ray feels qualified to help with, somehow. He may not remember most of his regular, real life while he's like this in Robbie form, but clearly parts of his upbringing are eerily simpatico with this brainless mindset, so there is plenty of internalized emotion and experience to draw upon. ]

Oh, no, no, not at all! Believe me, it's never too late for anyone, Crowley. [ He beams placidly. ] But you go on, I won't keep you. I'll even wrap up some brownies to bring over to y'all once they're done. Y'know I've been bakin' up a storm lately, and it feels like I'm the only one who ever eats it all-- well, the missus is probably just watching her waistline, but...

[ He pinches his side and then winces, immediately regretting the gesture, waving Crowley off instead. ]

And speakin' of brownies, that'll be my cue to go check how they're doing. Drive safe, all right? We'll talk soon!

[He snorts in amusement, wishing he could explain to Ray how ridiculous that notion is. Even if he wasn't keeping it a secret, he doubts Ray would understand it right now, or believe him, with... whatever this is.]

Sure, ta. Avery's got a sweet tooth like nothing else, he'd appreciate the sweets. Tell Ellie a Merry Christmas for me, will you?

[Maybe he'll send her a text, later, to check that she's alright.

Rather than linger too long, he simply graces Ray with a mocking little salute, then turns on his heel to get the fuck out of here. He needs to have a lie down.]

Will do. And please, give Avery my warmest regards when you see him. Uh, soon.

[ Ray seems, perhaps, slightly relieved as well that this visit is being kept short and sweet, like it troubles him deeply to not know how to help his friends with the myriad of alternative lifestyle choices they've chosen to embrace.

After he shuts the door the awkward encounter is all but immediately forgotten, at least until the next morning when Ray is back to normal, groaning under his bedsheets like a man with the world's worst hangover.

Jesus, did any of that even happen? All of it bobs blurrily around his mind, vague and mortifying, but he's reluctant to focus too sharply yet on any of his memories from the past few days.

Once he's up and making tea, seeing the disturbingly clean kitchen (despite all the baking that went on in it just yesterday) and tupperware of neatly sliced brownie squares reminds him of Crowley's visit, so rather than give into confused and cranky moping in bed all day, Ray shoots over a text: ]

Still up for brownies? There's plenty left ( ˘▽˘)っ♨
I can bring them right on over after I finish up with breakfast!

[In the grand scheme of things, Ray's weird passive aggressiveness isn't up there with the worst offenses Crowley has suffered, but it sticks with him anyway, how out of character it was.

The comparisons he's made to Stepford were a little too real, apparently, and part of him wonders if that's just — it. If Ray is going to be like this forever now. If it could happen to all of them.

Which is to say that he's conflicted upon receiving a text, squinting at it for a few minutes before responding.]

Depends.
Are you going to tell me I need to accept God into my life?

[ Ray winces a little at the response, though he's sure he deserves it. He doesn't remember exactly how Bible-y he got with Crowley -- honestly, even normally Ray doesn't always notice when or how much religion slips into what he's saying -- but it must have been bad.

He sucks his teeth, then starts typing back: ]

Was it that bad?
No God talk, I promise. Just us sugar plum fairies and some good ol fashioned chocolate fudge carbohydrates.

I don't really know what that was. I haven't quite been myself the last few days...

[That sounds far more like Ray, enough to slightly unravel the knot that had settled into Crowley's stomach. Not permanent, then, whatever the hell it was. That leaves more questions, but at least he doesn't have to write off his only friend in this shitty town.]

It's fine, you weren't all that bad
But if you're feeling more like yourself again then you're welcome to visit

Sure, I'll be by.
And I appreciate it, I do. Really could stand to get out of the house for a while. Not to mention my own head.
You know I didn't drink for about a week and I still woke up this morning with a raging bitch of a hangover.

[ He very nearly leaves it at that -- he's hardly in any hurry to talk about what happened, there is no doubt a lot to unpack even from just their brief chat -- but as Ray is getting ready to leave the house, he decides to add: ]

I know it's a tough subject for you what with your whole cult upbringing and all, so I'm sorry. And believe me, I get it.
Feels like I was possessed by some kind of angry ghost of Christmases That Could Have Been.

Side effects of a little brainwashing, I suppose.

[Is it unkind to say it so plainly? Crowley isn't entirely sure, and who knows, maybe he's wrong, but from the outside that's certainly what it looked like. At least it was only that, not that Ray had been replaced by a Stepford robot.]

What could have been if you weren't a flaming homosexual, hm?
Anyway, it's alright, no need to apologise. It wasn't you, and it was sort of funny, actually. Been a while since anyone's prosthelyized at me.

Well, you'd have to tell me. Was I straight yesterday, or just delusional?

[ He can guess. It wouldn't be his first time on the "pray the gay away" wagon, although he doesn't want to think about that now. Just being here already stirs up vaguely complicated feelings for him, and well, this hardly helps. ]

I mean that would help explain a phone call I remember having with Archer, but... brainwashing? Really?

Shit. I knew they must be dosing those damn jello-molds.

Hard to tell, honestly. I wasn't about to spend an hour there delving into your psyche. No offense.

[A better person might have tried to figure out what was wrong, tried to help, but Crowley isn't quite that person.]

Not sure what else it would be.

But you've been eating those damn things? You ought to know better.

Fair enough. I can be pretty convincing when I wanna be.

[ No, not really.

Also, it isn't that he doesn't agree that Crowley is probably right about this brainwashing thing, but it's a little too disturbing for Ray to be ready to talk about yet. Setting aside the upbringing and whole spy thing, it's still... mostly a first for him? So, for now he's just focusing on the simpler facts. ]

Listen, don't you judge me. I get hungry when I'm under a lot of stress, why do you think I've been baking??
And I can't be the only one. Those things actually aren't half bad you know.

They're bloody awful and you know it. Stick to food you've made yourself from now on, though I suppose there's no reason they can't be drugging what's at the grocery stores.

You want me to get a pot of coffee started? I've Irish creme to spike it with.

Oh, sure. They could be drugging anything here, including the coffee, but I think it does us no good to overthink it. Whatever they could be doing to the food, we still gotta eat something.

It would be the easiest way to get us though.
Unless we've all been chipped, that is.

Anyway. That would be heavenly, thank you.
I'm just about to pull up.

Coffee's worth being drugged for, unlike those gelatin monstrosities.

Door's unlocked, feel free to let yourself in, I'll be in the kitchen with the drugged coffee.

[He figures he should probably eat breakfast, or Aziraphale will fuss at him when he gets back from the grocery store, so he's poking through the fridge while waiting for the coffee to brew.]

Oh let's not go down THAT road. The list of things worth being drugged for is pretty long when you actually start to think about it.

[ He takes his time making it up the walkway once he's parked, brownies tucked under arm, then raps lightly on the door once he's opened it just to announce his presence. Ray looks a bit ragged compared to yesterday (though all things considered that's probably a good thing), just paler enough than usual that his eyebags make him look even more hungover than he probably feels. Still, it could be worse. ]

Good morning. [ He holds up the tupperware. ] Now where should I put these?

[ If they stay anywhere within his reach he can't promise they'll last long enough for Aziraphale to enjoy anyway, but... ]

Good morning, you look like shit.

[He sort of says it like it's a good thing, though, as he comes over to take the tupperware container, setting it on the kitchen counter.

There's already two mugs of coffee on the little dining table, each with a generous splash of Irish cream, but he's also put out milk and sugar in case Ray wants to doctor his coffee further.]

Take a seat and pick a mug, they're both the same.

[For his part, he's thrown together a bit of a fruit salad, because it turns out that bodies need vitamins and all kinds of ridiculous things, which he brings with him to the table.]

I've been thinking about planting a garden come spring, growing as much of my own food as I can seemed a sensible idea.

[Going back to their brief talk of grocery store food being drugged. It doesn't occur to him that Ray might not realize he's circling back to that; he's used to Aziraphale being able to follow his weird trains of thought.]

Oh blow me.

[ He's certainly not as chipper as yesterday either! Imagine that. Ray sits with a bit of a grunt, crossing his legs and gratefully taking a deep drink from one of the waiting coffee cups. ]

Ugh, that's magical. [ He kneads at his temple and adds a couple generous spoonfuls of sugar to his cup. ] But I wouldn't have pegged you for the farmin' type. Or gardening even, for that matter. It's not a bad idea.

[ Ray tops his coffee up a bit and drinks again. ]

You're thinkin' like a vegetable garden?

In your dreams.

[This is definitely Ray again, which fills Crowley with a sense of relief for a handful of reasons, mostly because it means whatever happened to him isn't permanent, so if it happens to anyone else, they'll get over it.

Hopefully.]

I've got a whole room dedicated to my plants back in London. All indoor, mind, but I've had gardens before. [He's never had to grow one without his powers, but he knows the basics and can likely find a few books that'll help.] But — yup. Vegetables, maybe a couple of fruit trees if I can find 'em. Herbs, too. I'd think about chickens if we had the space for it, but m'not sure I'd be able to wrangle them.

[His experiences with animals are limited and mostly negative.]

Don't remind me. I have houseplants all over my apartment that are probably all dead by now. [ Though it's happened before after long missions away, too. ] I do like herb gardens, though. Nice to finally have some real space for one that's bigger than a window box.

[ He adds a splash or two more Irish cream to his coffee. ]

Chickens, though... well, that'll be a whole thing, so be ready for it. You gotta build a coop, you gotta set up the chicken wire, gotta keep watch that no predators sneak in and eat 'em, gotta collect the eggs, gotta make sure they don't all kill each other... which believe me, never a pretty sight. [ God he knows too much about this shit. ] Although that bein' said, I would kill for some fried chicken right about now.

cw the world's most bizarre internalized homophobia?? I guess...

WOW RAY

LISTEN............ .,

IM LISTENING BITCH

........... I got nothin u_u

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