(no subject)

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

Date: October 2, 2000
Setting: Transatlantic Flight en route to N.Y.
Status: Private - John, Crowley
Summary: The boys take a road trip.



"Would you fucking settle down already?" John said in an undertone as the lady in 4-B screeched about the cargo compartment that had just flown open for no apparent reason, dumping the garish contents of her overstuffed cosmetics case on her head and spilling foundation down the front of her red dress. "The damn plane's not gonna fall out of the air, and if it did, hello, you can work miracles. Remember?"

Crowley had been none too pleased at the prospect of getting on a plane in the first place, and he'd been taking his nervousness out on the other passengers almost from the moment they'd lifted off. The flight attendants were almost in tears, several people had demanded that their seats be changed or their tickets refunded, and at least one lady had had an unexpected religious conversion when a particularly bad patch of turbulence had convinced her the jet was going down, which had in no way improved Crowley's mood.

John reflected glumly as he watched several tubes of expensive lipstick roll past him down the aisle that it was probably best he had caved and let the demon gimmick them first-class seats. Crammed into coach, things would likely have been ten times worse.

He was looking forward to seeing Zatanna again and to introducing her to his best mate, but he was seriously considering booking passage on a boat for the return trip.

Comments

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"I told you I don't like flying," Crowley snapped back peevishly, moving one of the lipsticks under the obnoxious passenger's designer heel so that she'd trip. "I'm stuck thirty-thousand feet up in the air in a tin can with two hundred other people and there's nothing but an imperfect human with a stick keeping us up. And yeah, I can work miracles, but do you have any idea how much concentration and energy that would take? I barely kept the Bentley together and that was a tenth the size of this thing. Had a headache for days."

He was breathing quickly, hating the recycled air and feeling trapped. "Besides, it's not the crashing. It's the... part before."

More than anything, Crowley hated the fact that if anything did happen, he couldn't just bail, but had to stay to protect John. Although the demon could get outside to safety, there was no way he could bring the man through the wall with him. This being the first time he'd flown with someone he cared about, it made the trip that much more difficult.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"I know," John said less harshly. A fear of falling was perfectly understandable for a Fallen angel, he supposed, but at this rate there'd be a full-fledged riot in progress by the time they landed. "Look, though, I've made this trip dozens of times and come off none the worse for it. Anyway, fuck the plane," he added with a slight smile, "I'd settle for a conveniently blown hatch, a parachute and a can of shark repellent."

Looking around for a way to distract his friend, he spotted a magazine someone had left in the mesh pouch behind the next seat up and snagged it, handing it to Crowley. "Here. Read. Or watch the in-flight film. Meditate. Whatever. Take your mind off it. We'll be there before you know it."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley gave a short, sharp smile that reflected many past unpleasantnesses. "I've made this trip dozens of times, too," he said, but he was thinking about parachutes.

With a raised eyebrow, the demon gestured to the video screen. "I've got it playing Crash Landing: The Rescue of Flight 232. Next is Bermuda Triangle followed by The Ghost of Flight 401 and Amelia Earhart: The Final Flight." He finished off his second glass of champagne, extended his chair into a bed and curled toward the window. "I'll just try to sleep. 'Night, John."

Whether he would or not was anyone's guess. He hadn't slept well since that first night in John's bed. But he could pretend.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"Arright. G'night," John said, relieved, though he wasn't sure even the relatively luxurius first-class acomodations were conducive to a decent sleep.

He tilted his own seat back a bit and spent some time surreptitiously people-watching and wishing vainly for a cigarette before he settled down to try and get a little shuteye himself. The cabin was a lot quieter once Crowley stopped metaphysically needling their fellow travelers.

He had to admit the ride was more comfortable than coach class, though his proletarian instincts objected both to the inequality of the whole setup and the presence of so many privileged upper crust so-and-so's in close quarters. It made him feel distinctly out of place, not that that was anything new, but he didn't like it all the same. Even dressed in these clothes that were a cut above anything he'd ever owned, clean-shaven and about as respectable as a Constantine was going to get, he had an uneasy feeling that everyone who glanced his way saw right through the facade and was sneering at him behind their politely bored expressions.

Well, to hell with 'em. He'd never needed anybody's approval, let alone a bunch of spoiled, clueless snobs like these. Any one of them would have died pissing themselves the first time they came up against something that couldn't be bought or bullied into submission. John knew, because he'd had to drag more than one of their kind out of some nightmare predicament they'd stumbled into, foolishly convinced of their own invincibility because they had clout in this physical world. Two hundred people on this rattletrap, he thought darkly, and he'd eat his Silk Cuts if anybody but him was aware of the demonic presence among them. Blind and helpless in the dark, the lot of them...

Misliking the cynical turn his own thoughts were taking, he followed Crowley's example, turning his back to them and settling down to sleep until their midmorning landing at JFK.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Having a fairly good idea where John's thoughts were going, Crowley smiled faintly. He felt very much the same about the privileged classes, despite being a member, and wondered if that was one reason he and John got on so well. As well as a bastardly demon and a snarky human (or vice versa) can get on, anyway.

Focussing on his friend and not allowing himself to think of anyone else at all, Crowley did finally manage to get to sleep. He woke half an hour before the plane landed, thanks to an ill timed overhead announcement that everyone very much regreted, and the end of the flight was, if anything, worse than the beginning.

It was a very cranky demon who stalked first off the plane into the terminal. He blew through customs, John in tow, and stopped at the baggage claim long enough for John to grab his bag, which somehow managed to be ready and waiting at the door for them.

As the sliding glass door opened, introducing them to the humidity and noise of New York City, Crowley visibly relaxed. Pushing his sunglasses back up his nose and smoothing his hair, he went to the first taxi in line and climbed in, slumping into the back seat and ignoring the protests of the passengers who'd been waiting in line. He allowed John to give the driver directions to Zatanna's place, translating them into Farsi and adding a little something of his own about drivers who take the long route in order to run up the meter, then just sighed and stared out at the Long Island traffic, letting the tension of air travel drain away.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John let Crowley have his space and took the opportunity to enjoy a cigarette and take in the bustling city scenery once they were outside the airport. He liked America, and he didn't like it; it was everything popular culture made it out to be, and better (and worse,) but it was too new and too full of itself, missing the depth of an old country, the sense of maturity. Nowhere was that more apparent than in New York City. London had a well-earned dignity about it. New York just had a shitload of chutzpah.

Finally, a few minutes out from Zatanna's apartment building, he said, "Right, so, I hope this goes without saying, but Zee? Is off-limits." He didn't mean it in the sense he usually would when talking to a male friend, though that was sort of included. Crowley was welcome to play with the Americans all he wanted, as far as John was concerned, but Zatanna was...well, she was special, and John's own sensibilities on the subject aside, she had her own ways of dealing with supernatural annoyances. Not that he really thought Crowley was going to pull any stupid shit on purpose, but given how they'd spent the past half a day or so, a small reminder seemed prudent.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley gave John a blank look over the tops of his sunglasses. "That's what you think of me? Thanks, mate. I think I know better than to mess with the person I'm staying with." He hadn't always, but he'd learned his lesson a long time ago. With a small frown, he turned back toward the window.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"Sorry," John muttered, sighing inwardly. Not sorry that he'd said it, exactly, but that his friend had taken it badly. He couldn't help it; he reserved the right to be just a wee bit paranoid about these things. Crowley and Zatanna both occupied prominent places on a very short list of people he would go far out of his way to look out for, and that included protecting them from each other, if it came to it.

He was taking a certain risk by introducing these two. He thought they'd get along pretty well, but that wasn't the issue. The moment they became connected, however tenuously, it doubled both their pools of potential enemies and left them each with another possible vulnerability. He only hoped the remainder of the trip would prove worth it.

"Hope you're hungry," he added with a slight smile as the cab pulled up to the curb, "ten quid says she'll be trying to stuff us to the gills before introductions are over."

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John hauled himself up somewhat reluctantly and walked over to look through the cabinet's contents, snorting softly at what he found. "Christ, Zee. This much Disney shouldn't be allowed in an adult's house," he called. "...oh, all right, here we go. Got some Steven King here, The Craft--hate that movie, they got just enough right to get some fuckwit kid in real trouble...bunch of chick flicks..."

He laughed suddenly, pulling a case out and turning to flash the cover at Crowley. The Prophecy. "Heh. You ever seen this one?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

John got an eyebrow raise for his trouble. "You want me to watch a movie called The Prophecy? Oh. I didn't tell you about that, did I...?" Crowley made a face and glanced quickly back at the kitchen. "Part of the whole to-do with Adam," he added in a cautious undertone, unsure as to what Zatanna did or should know. "Crazy bitch, book, it's another long story." He changed the subject. "So what's this about?"

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"Oh, it's pure and total bollocks, something about a modern-day war in Heaven and some girl who's supposed to be the key to ending it. Stuff that could only be written by someone who knows sod all about it. It's the casting that makes the film, though." John grinned and turned the case over, reading from the back. "Christopher Walken as Gabriel--you know, if Gabriel was a psychotic mobster who liked to perch on top of buildings like a gargoyle--and Viggo Mortensen as Him Below..."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley threw his head back and laughed - laughed like he hadn't in a long time. "Viggo (http://sagralisse.mediawood.net/viggo/prophecy.php?img=_37#gallery)?" he gasped, waving a hand to indicate that John should put it on. "Walken (http://www.ojai.net/swanson/images/shoutprophecy.JPG)?!"

He sank onto the comfortable couch, still chuckling. This he had to see.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John popped the cd in the player and plopped down on the other end of the couch, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles. This was without a doubt going to be the weirdest afternoon of vegging out to a superbly bad movie ever, and that was just fine with him.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

Zatanna came into the room carrying a large bowl of popcorn. "What are you two snickering about?" she asked, smiling, and blinked when she saw the opening credits come up on the screen.

"Okay. You guys? Are just strange," she laughed. "And believe me, I know from strange." She pulled the drapes and sat down between them, tucking her feet up comfortably underneath her. And if it just so happened that this put her at an angle where a slight shift would put her snug up against John, well, nobody could prove anything.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

As much as he was sniggering at the events unfolding on screen - as it turned out Viggo's Lucifer wasn't so far off in terms of behaviour, which was a little disturbing, but, dear Adam on Earth somewhere, what were they thinking with Gabriel? - Crowley was also amused by the antics on the couch. He hadn't missed Zatanna's positioning of herself, nor had he missed her deliberate act with the popcorn. She'd put the bowl between herself and Crowley, not only making it easy for them both to snack, but it put a little space between them and required John to reach across her lap if he wanted any. The demon liked the way she thought. The movie was funny, too.

After a while, though, the plot got too ridiculous for words. It seemed that Gabriel, upset with God for paying so much attention to humanity, decided to start a second war in Heaven. But the war wasn't going well and he needed a good general to help him. Of all the people he could have chosen, he fixed on one particularly vicious Korean war vet because of some ill-defined prophecy. But Simon, who was somehow an angel rather than a human apostle, hid the war vet's soul inside a living native American girl named Mary. What an original name. And how kind of the 'good angel' to put a child in danger. Why not put the soul in someone like Schwarzenegger who could, oh, defend himself? But as Gabriel got closer to finding her, an ex-seminary-student-turned-cop and a school teacher teamed together to protect her. And Crowley couldn't stand it anymore.

"What the fuck?" he finally said, trying to follow it all. "Who thought this made sense?"

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"Got me," John said, finally giving up and putting his arm along the back of the couch behind Zatanna so it wouldn't fall asleep from being squished between them. They'd spent countless hours sitting exactly like this, watching TV back in the old days, and it brought to mind some other vivid, un-fiend-touched memories that were simultaneously enticing and annoying as all hell. He'd thought them safely filed away where they wouldn't pop up and become a nuisance. Bloody woman, she hadn't come on this strong in years. "Maybe it's supposed to be like The Wall, only makes sense if you watch it stoned?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"I don't know which would be more comforting," Crowley murmured in response.

He turned to look at Zatanna. "You're right that Adam's the antichrist, but he's not so easily categorized. When you meet him, you get this overwhelming sense of power, but the kid's so damn nice that you don't worry about it. When he tells you something, you can't help but believe it or follow it, no matter what side you're supposed to be on. He just looks at you with those earnest blue eyes and you believe." Crowley waved at the TV again and turned the cop into Adam (http://www.livejournal.com/userpic/35360416/8003924). "See? And that's without the aura. He's bloody gorgeous. And that's in a house full of bloody gorgeous beings."

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"You're not lyin'," Zatanna agreed, eyeing the sweet-faced boy thoughtfully. "So that's Morningstar's boy. And he's, what? Running a neutral zone?" She glanced questioningly from Crowley to John. "Or trying to put together a third faction? Take on his old man? Pretty ambitious, either way."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley shrugged. "Fuck if we know. Right now it's a safe house. It's nice to know when I fall asleep that I'll be waking up the next morning. But until we know what started this damn war, I don't think we'll know what the kid has in mind. He plays things close to the vest. Sometimes he lets shit happen and sometimes he doesn't. But he's all right if you play by his rules."

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John hid a smile, silently marking off another small debt he owed Crowley. Hearing from a third party that the Manor was safe would carry a lot more weight than any amount of assurances he could give Zee himself.

"And in the meantime, we get to do fun things like needling the Snob and playing with friendly tentacle monsters." He reached across Zatanna to grab a handful from the dwindling bowl of popcorn. "Christ, I forgot how bad this film really is. Turn 'em back, Crowley, this is fucking weirding me out."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Laughing, the demon waved a hand and turned them all back to the original actors.

"This movie is pretty awful. You two mind if I duck out early? I'd like to get my bearings..." Meaning, 'I haven't had a chance to really mess with anyone for months and it's driving me bloody crazy.'

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"G'head," Zatanna said, waving a hand in the general direction of the door. "Just try to limit the mayhem and destruction to the touristy spots, would you? New Yorkers are obnoxious enough without infernal encouragement. Oh--raeppa namsilaT," she added, making a quick gesture and flipping a small metal disk in Crowley's direction. It was about the size and color of a subway token, but with considerably more esoteric markings. "Keep that on you and the night wards'll let you in."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley snatched the talisman out of the air and slid it into a trouser pocket. He didn't reply, just smiled, and slipped out the door. Pushing up his sunglasses against the sideways glare of the setting sun, the demon walked north, ready to see what kind of trouble he could make.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"Enjoy," John called with a wave before the door closed, and settled back to watch the remainder of the movie. Though he couldn't quite bring himself to laugh at the scene in which Gabriel's heart was ripped out and eaten by Lucifer. Crazy bastard would do it, just to get the bystanders' reactions, he thought morbidly.

"I like him," Zatanna said thoughtfully, and it took him a minute to shift his mental gears and catch on to what she meant.

"Oh, Crowley? Yeah, thought you would," he said with a smile. "He's a brick. I forget sometimes what he actually is." And not because he hadn't seen Crowley in full infernal regalia, either. "Not many demons I can say that about."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley returned at dawn after a long busy night that would no doubt be reflected in the morning papers. He was feeling good, comfortable in his own skin again, and things were next to normal as they could be. Sneaking silently into the flat, the demon couldn't repress a snigger when he saw that the couch was unoccupied and there was no pretense of it ever even having been made up. Well, well, well...

A smile on his face, Crowley retreated to the guest room to wait for John and Zatanna to wake up.