demonicmiracle | (apocalypse how) ic contact

Why would I try to get rid of capitalism? S'great for a demon.

[This probably isn't the sort of thing that he should talk about in public, but he isn't quite used to having to censor himself in that way, not when he could always just stop people from paying that close attention to him.

To them.

He'll get used to it, but for now he follows after Aziraphale, hands tucked into his pockets, trying not to be too much of a miserable git.]

You know, everything in here is gonna be from this century. You reckon you'll be able to find something?

[There we go, now he's just being a regular bastard. That's more like it.]

[ Aziraphale throws him a classic Sure, Jan. Today he will spare him words like nice and kind, but he still knows the real truth.

Plus he'd think the political upheaval would be ideal for a demon looking to be very demonic, technically.

Not that that likely matters all that much anymore. Cut loose from former employment, so to speak. It's not the worst thing, but it doesn't bode well if- when they manage to get back. That's not on the list of things to process, either. ]

I hardly think they've un-invented tolerable shirts or cufflinks in the past few years. [ Past few decades. Whatever. The actual worst part is obviously that he can't be like "will you be able to find something?" because Crowley's always kept things more cutting-edge. What a nightmare scenario. ] Nothing I can't get used to.

[ Beggars and choosers. It should be fine. It sort of has to be. ]

You'd be surprised at just how awful mass produced clothing can be.

[Is he being a bastard? Yes. Is he also kind of doing this to temper Aziraphale's expectations, so that when they do get to the 'trying on clothes' part of this outing, he'll maybe be surprised that things aren't as awful as he said they'd be?

Maybe so.]

Maybe this is your chance to branch out. Wear something with color in it.

[Bold words from history's first goth.]

[ Love is fully setting up your best friend to be too pleased with himself later. It's a noble sacrifice that Aziraphale will not notice because he'll be too busy being pleased.

Also, rude. Wow. He looks at Crowley, then down at himself. Full woman squinting at math meme. ]

Crowley, I'm wearing more color than you are already.

[ Technically speaking. Just because it could all come from the same off-white to brown pastel gradient... ]

It's a bit pot and kettle, if the pot were objectively wrong in the first place.

In no universe is beige a color, angel.

[The fact that he actually thinks Aziraphale's wardrobe suits him and looks good isn't relevant to the point right now. In which the point is that he wants to make fun.]

I've got some red at least. [He pops his jacket collar briefly to demonstrate, and frowns when a little ash rubs off on his fingers.

This is why they're currently shopping.] Maybe I'll branch out, too. No Hell here to make a fuss about fashion choices, I could wear pink.

[He's not going to wear pink, it'd clash something awful with his hair.]

Don't be ridiculous, of course it's a color.

[ There's a name for it. That counts as a qualification, until the day he decides otherwise and changes his entire argument. As is the way of stubborn old gay culture.

He goes ahead and veers away from the trousers and shirts pathway for socks with zero prompting or warning, pardoning one wordless "oh would you look at that" sound. Socks are important. No itinerary we shop like idiots. ]

Have you been wanting to try out new colors? I'm sure you could find something. You're always so keen on modern fashion, I hadn't really considered.

[ Which, well, it's not as if Hell would likely be all that keen on pastels or jewel tones, now that he has considered.

Crowley might look nice in some very specific shade of pink. Of note: Aziraphale is very biased. He thinks he would look nice even if he didn't look nice, even if he looked ridiculous. ]

[Crowley's retort is lost to Aziraphale suddenly changing course; he blinks for a second, then follows after him with the resigned sigh of someone who's very used to Aziraphale's whims.]

I've not thought about it, really. S'like — [A demon falling in love with an angel.] — a human thinking about turning into a bird. Not worth thinking about something that's not a possibility.

[Which is a depressing concept to verbalize, acknowledging one of the many ways they lacked freedom, even if it's a moot point these days. They're trapped in a way they've never been trapped before, but there's a lot more freedom, in certain aspects.

Hell and Heaven aren't watching, anymore.]

[ A resigned sigh that is music to his ears.

There are already too many socks to look at. This is both highly convenient and dreadful. ]

Oh, I don't know. Some things don't look like possibilities until they're given the thought.

[ Stopping the apocalypse. Denouncing a war. Loving a demon. The list could go on, metaphorical and otherwise.

And some things, of course, have always been worth thinking about whether they were a possibility or not. ]

Although I'm sure you certainly couldn't get away with light blue for a board meeting in Hell. Office culture and all that.

[ Let local demon dress however he wants while he has the room to do it initiative. ]

Well I'd have thought about it more if I'd known I was going to defect from Hell shortly before ending up in an alternate dimension.

[There's more than a hint of sarcasm in his tone, but Aziraphale knows him well enough to know that he's only playing it up because he thinks it's funny.

And maybe because now he's thinking about all the other things that weren't possibilities before and might be now, and a joke is the best way to diffuse that.]

Light blue doesn't seem right anyway. Maybe green? Could go with some green.

[He's eyeing socks as he talks, picking out a pair with donuts on them and wiggling them at Aziraphale threateningly.

Humans are so weird.]

I was hardly in charge of keeping track of your future defections and dimensional travel. Green could work, though. Suits your complexion.

[ As much as Aziraphale should ever give fashion advice to anyone. He never kept very close track of all that.

Material a little out of the ordinary for a routine argument. But still nice to have. He's compartmentalizing the long-term ramifications of defection to keep the mood trending upward. Consider instead: wrinkling his nose at the donut socks, in what could only be called mostly-delight. Socks that are both dumb and funny. A miracle.

Humans are adorable. ]

Isn't that charming. Good to know their sense of humor carried all this way.

[ Things you can say as both a fresh-to-the-states Brit and an interdimensional celestial entity. ]

[Crowley experiences some kind of Emotion at Aziraphale saying that green would suit him, but it isn't an emotion that he has any name for, or much experience with. The only thing he's certain of is that he's definitely going to buy a few things that happen to be green.

Because he wanted to. Not because Aziraphale said it would suit him.]

Shame it's not closer to Halloween, I could get some properly spooky socks. You should get the donuts, though, they're a bit of fun.

[He thinks they'd look cute.

That is not a series of words he'd ever say out loud.]

I'll take them into consideration.

[ Meaning they can sit in the trolley with the regular socks and he'll probably buy them, and then they can become his house socks. Socks for wearing in the apartment. Lounge socks? Something.

When Aziraphale relaxes enough to swap the tartan out for novelty bowties, it's over for everyone. ]

Is there a fine line between spooky socks and properly spooky socks?

[If Aziraphale doesn't buy the socks then Crowley is going to and just sneak them into the dresser.

It's weird to think about owning clothes and laundering them and storing them somewhere.]

If you have to ask, I'm not sure I can explain it to you.

[Today in: Crowley's 100% talking shit because he doesn't actually know where he was going with that sentence and improvised on the fly.

Moving on!]

D'you remember when you had to wear suspenders with socks? Least we're stuck in a half decent time period.

[If they were stuck in the fourteenth century he would've lost it.]

[ His brain is excluded from spooky sock thought processes? Rude. Jail for a thousand years. Aziraphale looks mildly put out about it, which serves him fine as the full reality of "modern" elasticized socks sets in.

The joy of embracing human conveniences versus being a stubborn creature of habits with no habits left to cling to: fight.

Well, he supposes if he can't get used to it, his preferred arrangement hasn't fallen out of existence. They'd just take more digging to find. Not impossible in a sizeable city like this one. ]

I like hose garters. Always thought they added a nice touch. [ Also he got used to them. He nabs a pack of plain white socks after checking they're in the right size range. Socks have come so far. 2 sizes fits all. Wild. ] Not that you're wrong about the time period. It's strange enough being here without adding a step backward.

[ Like, he would manage, but the principle of the thing would be awful.

He holds up a pack of black socks as if to say "passably spooky enough, or would you like to hunt down your own socks for your special foot needs?" Things Aziraphale can't say he's thought to give much active thought to: Crowley's socks.

It's his business if he is secretly deep down having a twitterpated crush moment about buying socks together. It's everyone's business that he's dumb. ]

[Occasionally something will happen that slams Crowley back into some memory of the past, with sometimes good, and sometimes bad results. Right now, it's Aziraphale talking about hose, and his brain supply the mental image of that bloody outfit in the Bastille.

He's not sure if it's a good or bad thing, this time around. It is, if nothing else, something of a distraction. At least he's used to dealing with those, when it comes to Aziraphale.]

You think pocket watches add a nice touch.

[Implying they do not, because it's currently the twenty first century, no matter how much Aziraphale might like to pretend otherwise.]

If I suddenly had to deal with shaving with a straight razor I'd go mental.

[Can he do it? Yes. Does he want to? No. It's bad enough that he has to shave at all.

As for the socks:]

Those'll do, ta.

[ Rude. Aziraphale's confused offense is both immediate and at its usual levels. ]

They do add a nice touch! They're vintage. Vintage is nifty.

[ Not a shout, per se. The most polite exclamation he can muster. Because this is a public setting. Top ten ways to sound like weird time travelers in public.

Just because humans are fickle and admirable and change with the times!!! Wow!

He puts the socks in the cart, but he looks petty about it. So there.

He also already forgot the ever ongoing ramifications of shaving necessity. Oh, dear. Nebulously long-term, all those minor ongoing concerns. ]

If I find a nice enough barber, I'll point you to them. Have a break from it every once in a while.

[ It's always been more indulgence than anything practical, of course. That doesn't change just for a more humanized corporation. Crowley's never seemed quite like the "trust a human near his throat with a blade" sort, either, but it's the principle of offering that matters.

Which is sadly much harder to look petulant about. Drat. ]

[It's a shame that he can't feed an entity using annoyance and overdramatic offense; all he'd have to do is spend a typical day being a bastard in Aziraphale's direction and he'd be unstoppable.]

It's more retro that's nifty these days, the hipsters have moved on.

[Grinning at Aziraphale while using a bunch of words he probably isn't familiar with might count as a hate crime, actually, but here they are.

Aziraphale doesn't deserve this.]

Like I'd let some — [Human.] — stranger touch my face. I've no idea how you put up with it.

[Aziraphale is generally even more fussy than him about a lot of things, but maybe it's something about being transactional. It's not as if Crowley has never had humans touch him, he's been to tailors and had servants, but there's far too much intimacy in letting anyone touch his face.

Anyway:]

What's next? Slacks? Shirts? Could try on a nice polo shirt.

[The crimes continue.]

[ Mom come pick him up, his only friend is deliberately speaking in modern tongues. Oh, right, She's not directly taking anyone's calls these days.

Aziraphale doesn't strictly have an answer to present towards letting humans touch his face. He gives it a tip of his head, an I just wound up enjoying it shrug. Humans can be quite good at that sort of thing. Tactile.

To each their own, naturally. ]

I don't know that you've got the right energy for a polo shirt, but I'll support you if that's what you're interested in. [ It's deliberate, huffy misinterpretation all the way down.

This may be the most relatively safe and grounded he's felt in weeks. ]

We were headed towards shirts, weren't we. Best move along.

[ When it was your fault you detoured in the first place but you are deciding to ignore it. ]

[If he weren't so immediately incensed by the suggestion that he wear a polo shirt, he might realize that Aziraphale is deliberating misinterpreting what he said. But unfortunately for him, he's easily wound up, and spends the next several seconds making incoherent sounds as he starts stalking towards the shirts, casting cranky glances at Aziraphale.

It's like shooting fish in a barrel, honestly.]

I'm gonna bloody — I'm gonna start dressing like I've walked out of a Ralph Lauren catalogue and you're gonna be embarrassed to hang out with me.

[This is not the punishment for Aziraphale that he thinks it is.]

[ Look at Crowley go. He's all surly. Everything went better than expected.

Aziraphale has a little laugh at his expense, because Aziraphale is a smug bastard who thinks he's funny. This is known. ]

Am I too far behind the times to care about that sort of thing, or so cutting-edge that I would be embarrassed?

[ Anthony J. Crowley's self-inflicted polo shirt torture. The great imaginary tragedy of our time. ]

[Unfortunately for Crowley, he's both very stupid and very fond of Aziraphale being a bastard in his general direction.]

It's like — the shite the royals run around in when they're trying to look like normal people.

[Not necessarily out dated or cutting edge, just unbearably wanky in a way that would look ridiculous on Crowley.]

Some of their women's clothing isn't awful, but I'm not opening that damn can of worms.

[Messing around with gender is all well and good when he can manipulate people and/or make alterations to his appearance; he's not risking that shit while human.]

Ohhh.

[ Can he say much about the fine art of trying to look like a normal human? Not in the fashionable sense since... oh, early 1900s or so. He just sort of gets away with it because humans think he's strange and wealthy and gay, and possibly because as far as humans go, he's never cared very much if they think he doesn't quite fit.

Everyone's a little bit odd on Earth. No need to rush out of his favorite kit so far. Well, before now. Semantics.

Crowley would probably be so uncomfortable in that sort of style that he'd go past entertainingly cranky to a proper strop, though. Better not to egg it on. ]

I suppose that is off the table for the time being, isn't it? I'm sorry you're cut short on options.

[ They're very tied down to these bodies now. Sort of makes him wish he'd had time for a proper stretch-out before subletting Madame Tracy. He can only imagine how it must be rankling from Crowley's end. Crowley always has been the one more inclined to shake things up with a corporation on occasion. ]

Eh, isn't that big of a deal.

[The fact that he has his hands shoved into his pockets and shoulders a little hunched over suggests otherwise, to someone who knows him well enough to pick when he's feeling put out or defensive about something and doesn't want to admit it. Which is also why he's poking at shirts as a distraction.

It's not that he even wants to shake things up, he doesn't expect he'll be in the mood for a while, after being Ashtoreth for so many years and dealing with all that shit. But not having the choice frustrates him, because it's just another decision that's been stripped away from him.

Clearly the solution is to make jokes about it, so no one can guess what he's feeling. Like Aziraphale hasn't known him for millennia.]

Isn't all that different from Hell suggesting I stick to one presentation or another for an assignment. Not that they'd know, could've gone down there tarted up in a miniskirt and high heels and just tell 'em that's what blokes are wearing these days.

[There's a mental image. You're welcome, Aziraphale.]

[ Oops. There is a mental image. He can't believe he's made it so far only to fail to survive this world specifically.

So it's nice to have shirts to rifle through and give due consideration, really. At junctures like these. Fussiness as an outlet. ]

Not so different isn't something I'd call not so bad. [ When the comparison point is literal Hell and all. It's something snatched off the table either way.

And by the line of Crowley's shoulders, still a happening he clearly doesn't care for. There isn't very much to be done about it, either. ]

Well. Doesn't usually take me long to find the good neighborhoods once I get settled. [ He's like a gay U-boat suddenly turning up on sonar. ] If you need to stretch your proverbial legs someday, I ought to be able to point you.

[ Proverbial legs. Literal legs. His problem is thinking too much about legs, although in his defense, there's a lot of leg to think of. ]

[If nothing else, the offer draws a startled laugh out of Crowley, who stops poking at clothing to look over at Aziraphale. It's necessary, so that Aziraphale can see the amused look on his face and the raised eyebrow.]

Is that your way of offering to hook me up with the gay community?

[It's not something they've ever said out loud, despite it being incredibly obvious, because it's too close to being human, and he's always suspected it's something Heaven might look down their noses at, were they to find out.

(Not the gay part, really, just the part about finding community with humans.)

It's also treading close to the line of talking about — attraction and romance and sex, and that's a terrifying concept, when there are certain answers that Crowley might want and isn't sure he'd get.

But it feels easier, here, away from prying eyes, while they almost are human.]

Actually, hang on, should I be offended that you think I couldn't find them myself?

[He doesn't dress like a goth twink by accident!!!

He's not actually offended. It's very sweet of Aziraphale to offer, especially when it's about personal comfort. He's not used to having those sorts of things considered by the people around him.

But that's too much to unpack at an alternate universe Sears.]

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