(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

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"I heard that," Zatanna called from the kitchen as she took a tray of garlic bread out of the oven. "Don't listen to him, Crowley, there's nothing wrong with it. He's just a big wuss."

"Am not," John called back in a sullen tone, and she smiled. If he thought the guest bed was bad, he'd hate sleeping on her couch.

Who ever said Constantines had a monopoly on deviousness?

She took a step back and surveyed her work. Three-cheese lasagne (with and without dead ruminant,) garlic bread, salad and a blueberry cobbler. All right, so maybe it was more of an early dinner than a lunch. What could she say, when she got nervous, she cooked. They could always have sandwiches later.

"Food'll be up in a minute," she added, cutting the pasta into neat squares. "Anything special you boys would like to drink?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"He wouldn't have liked me much, either," he murmured to John, before turning back to Zatanna with a smile. "But as much as I appreciate your hospitality, I don't think I'll be needing the room tonight. I thought I'd head out into the city," Crowley didn't think he needed to or should go into specifics of what he'd be doing, "...and give you two a chance to get reacquainted." The demon grinned knowingly. The pheromones were flying fast and furious around here and he didn't think John would appreciate having a third wheel. If it were anyone else involved, Crowley might consider interrupting just for the sheer amusement factor, but John deserved better. Not to mention that two angry occultists against one minor demon was not good odds.

"What have you got?" he asked, referring to the drinks.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"Nothing inspiring on hand, just some diet soda and juice. But if I can pronounce it backward, it's available," Zatana said, shouldering the door open and carrying a pan to the table in the adjoining dining room with potholders. "John, be a sweetheart and grab the other pan off the counter, would you?"

She paused next to table, which was covered with a pretty lace tablecloth with nothing to protect it from the hot dish. "raeppa stovirT," she stated matter-of-factly, and an instant later set the lasagne down on one of the two ornate metallic trivots that had manifested near the center of the table.

Crowley's remark earned him a sharp look, followed by a slight, wry grimace. Why she'd entertained the hope that an ancient immortal might be slower on the uptake than the twelve-year-old boy John had brought along last time was beyond her. "Gonna paint the Big Apple red, huh? Well, remind me to hook you up with a talisman before you go. I ward the place at night."

In fact, she warded it nearly all the time, but the less complicated setup she used during the day was more amenable to being tweaked for unusual visitors. Even so, it had been tricky, configuring the protective magics to ignore a specific demon for whom she didn't have a true name, sigil or any identifying information except his human pseudonym. She wasn't sure whether she believed John when he said he didn't have any of that information--if it was true, it would be a first for any demon he'd ever dealt with--but she knew better than to push it.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"Oh, so now it's sweetheart, is it?" John smirked. "See how they operate, Crowley? One minute they're insulting your manhood, and the next they find a use for you and then it's all terms of endearment and shit...right, I'm going, I'm going," he said, heading for the kitchen with his hands raised in surrender at the malevolent glare Zatanna directed his way.

He deliberately ignored Crowley's innuendo, since he hadn't made up his mind just how to deal with that situation yet and hadn't quite expected to have to do so this quickly. Bugger.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley just grinned, watching the back and forth. They argued like an old married couple. Like... no. Not like that.

Zatanna did get an eyebrow raise at the stunt with the trivots. He hadn't met a mortal that could materialize solid objects like that. But he was more surprised that she demonstrated it in front of him. She wasn't just showing off, it had to have been a deliberate move to show the essence of her abilities. It almost seemed like a warning and a gesture of trust in one. No wonder she and John got on. But he could appreciate that. In return, Crowley said, "Allow me, then," and produced a 1794 Shiraz to go with their lasagna, expertly popping the cork and waving three glasses into existence.

He nodded when she mentioned the talisman, not expecting anything less. The demon had felt the energies adjusting to his presence, aware that it must have been a tricky piece of work to let him in when he was just the sort of being they were designed to keep out.

Turning to John, Crowley laughed. "Sorry, mate. Can't help you there. My knowledge of the domestic habits of women is sadly lacking."

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

If she could have read Crowley's mind, Zatanna would have had a giggle fit right about then. The trivots weren't a calculated move; it hardly seemed like the sort of thing that would impress a demon who could pull the same trick, sans backward-speak, and she rarely thought about her power in those terms anyway. She just needed something to protect the table.

"Oooh. Good looks and good taste. I could get used to having you around," she laughed. "Have a seat, we'll just be another minute."

She passed John just inside the kitchen door. "Flirt," he deadpanned as he elbowed the door open on his way out.

"Smartass," she shot back affectionately, then put the garlic bread in a basket and brought that and the salad out to the table.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Well, no one ever said that Crowley wasn't paranoid... He did have a tendency to overanalyse situations. Still, he was feeling relaxed and comfortable as he sipped at his wine and watched Zatanna serve the lasagna. He accepted some of the vegetarian and certainly wasn't disappointed. With the garlic bread, salad, and wine it was a meal worthy of Crowley's favourite little Italian place in Soho and he made sure that Zatanna knew it.

Through the meal, he was content to sit quietly and listen to the two of them chat. They were mostly talking about people he didn't know and sharing inside jokes and stories he didn't understand, in the way that old friends do. He tried not to mind or resent the constant reminder, but he was definitely feeling like the odd demon out.

Catching a slightly puzzled look on the woman's face, he tuned in again to hear John abruptly changing the subject. He was wearing that faintly embarrassed look that Crowley had come to know in the last few months to mean that he'd forgotten something, but Zatanna couldn't have known that. He wondered if John would tell her.

He tried to pay better attention after that, which was made easier when they started discussing Etrigan. Crowley didn't know him personally, but he was apparently a rhyming demon, which garnered an eyeroll. It was interesting, though, to hear demons discussed knowledgeably from the other side, as it were.

But it wasn't long before lunch was finished. And after Crowley polished off his second glass, he sat back and offered to take care of the dishes.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"Sure," Zatanna said easily, curious to see how a demon would go about cleaning dishes. Not by the usual means, she was sure. "You going to take off right away or hang out for a while? I've got some board games, or we could watch a movie?"

She'd noticed how quiet the demon had been through dinner, and didn't want him to spend his whole visit feeling like a third wheel. Though the temptation to grill him about all sorts of things that weren't really her business was going to be difficult to resist. The only other demonic type she'd ever been on less-than-hostile terms with was Etrigan, and he was quite possibly the most annoying person in the Universe to try to have a conversation with, always talking in rhyming couplets or iambic pentameter (plus he was just sort of a jerk, really.)

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"I vote movie," John said, stretching and slouching lazily in his chair. "I get my arse kicked often enough in real life without being trounced at Monopoly." Not that he minded, really, whatever the other two wanted to do. He also wanted Crowley to feel included, but even taking into account the lopsided conversation, his friend seemed noticeably less unhappy than he'd been since the breakup. Getting him away from the Manor for a while had been a good idea, he thought, and given a couple of days for him and Zee to get used to each other, he wouldn't feel so left out.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

With a self-satisfied smirk, Crowley made a totally unnecessary but showy gesture and snapped his fingers. It was enough to get all the leftover food packed away, wash all the dishes, and put them in the cupboards where they belonged. He'd left the kitchen and dining room sparkling in a second.

Turning smoothly to Zatanna, he carefully didn't mention anything about it. "I don't have to leave right away. A movie sounds fine. You know, I've never actually played Monopoly. People know better than to get a demon involved in a land war, I guess."

He smiled, but it was a faintly sad one. On rare occasions, he'd played multi-language Scrabble with Aziraphale, but that was pretty much the extent of his board game prowess, and it was painful to think of those pleasant and easy evenings when they might never happen again.

"So, uh, what have you got?"

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

Zatanna's eyes widened as she took in the empty table. She was used to things appearing and disappearing without warning, of course, among much stranger things, but she was a performer by trade and knew a flourish for effect when she saw one. "Uh. Thanks! ...Oh, heck, all sorts of things," she said after a slight pause, and gestured to the next room and the tall piece of furniture at the far end, near the televsion. "The DVD's are in that cabinet. Pick out anything you like. 'Scuse me just a minute..."

She got up and went into the kitchen, peeking into the cupboards and fridge, and was suitably impressed. She could have done the same thing, but it would have taken quite a bit more time and effort and a lot of annoying backwardspeak. Score one for Crowley...two, if you counted the fact that he'd done it without breathing any fire or reciting so much as a haiku.

She tossed a bag of popcorn in the microwave as an excuse for coming in here, wondering what the boys would decide to watch.