http://barking-draco.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] barking-draco.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] outside_omens2005-09-26 07:51 pm
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Draco had finally been given a task worthy of a demonic intern. His satisfaction at this state of affairs could be discerned in his voice, his eyes, his jaunty walk. Draco was on a mission.

Better yet, it was something that only HE could do. Admittedly, the prospect of going back to Crowley’s flat in order to disarm the things which had originally hurt the demon was frightening, at first. But then Aziraphale had patiently explained that Draco was invincible, in a matter of speaking. That all Draco had to do was grab some silly toys from some unusually active plants, and check the flat for anything else that could be dangerous to Crowley’s health.. This was nothing, compared to Herbology.

Draco hummed a tune that he would never admit to knowing due to its popularity among adolescent witches, and started to ascend the stairs that lead to Crowley’s penthouse suite.

It was a good thing that he had never seen any Ghostbusters or James Bond movies. It would have taken away a lot of his enjoyment in slinking up the stairwell and through the hall, taking plenty of opportunities to dramatically pause before he leapt around each corner with his wand out, looking wildly in all directions. His tuneless hum was now more reminiscent of the Weird Sister’s early work.

Draco reached the entrance to Crowley’s dwelling later than he would have had he simply walked, but it was important to set the mood. Draco now felt that he was mentally prepared to take on anything that could be in the flat. Unfortunately for Draco, his expectations of what he would encounter were limited to modern furniture and amusing pet plants. It was unfair, really, for him to encounter another would be plant neutralizer. Draco watched, momentarily speechless, as the man wrestled with an English Ivy.

“Give it up, you overgrown skunkweed!” cried the interloper, who on an unrelated note looked like the avatar of one night stands. The words broke Draco from his silence, and he cleared his throat while trying to look menacing. He also put on an aristocratic sneer, for good measure.

Pointing his wand directly at the man’s heart, he asked, “You’d better have a damn good reason for being here.”

Despite the opinions of some, Draco had finished going through puberty quite some time ago. However, Fate decided that his voice needed to crack one last time, in honor of the perfect moment for it. Fate can be a bitch like that.

[identity profile] dangeroushabits.livejournal.com 2005-10-03 09:51 pm (UTC)(link)
John was alarmed for a moment or two when the plant started getting grabby--he'd seen firsthand what a hacked-off sentient plant could do, given sufficient motivation--but when its intentions became a bit clearer, he had to bite the inside of his lip hard for a long moment to stop himself laughing out loud. Apparently, the spell had worked too well.

"Calm down," he said reassuringly. "Doesn't look like it means to hurt you. In fact," he added, watching the besotted ivy rub up and down Draco's body like an overly affectionate green cat, "I think it likes you. Try sweet-talking it a bit, ask what happened here and see what it says."

[identity profile] dangeroushabits.livejournal.com 2005-10-10 09:36 pm (UTC)(link)
John was now forced to put a hand over his own mouth, attempting to appear grave and thoughtful as he hid an irrepressible grin at the kid's predicament. He could only hear Draco's half of the conversation, and he'd need to pick the kid's brain later to find out exactly what had been said, but he could follow enough. "Yeah, hold on, I got an idea.

"Couple more things," he said, his voice slightly muffled as he looked around at the other plants, searching for an appropriate candidate...ah, there we are. "Ask it if this 'ally' of theirs was carrying anything. And if he was alone." (1)

He walked to a large French lily and picked it up, lugging it over to the entangled youth and setting it down next to the English Ivy with a slight thud. "When that's done, cast the same spell on this one. I expect that'll solve your problem."

---

(1) John sincerely hoped the ivy wouldn't say anything about a horn. He'd hate to have to do something nasty to Gabriel when they seemed to be getting along so well.

[identity profile] dangeroushabits.livejournal.com 2005-10-12 03:23 am (UTC)(link)
"Yeah, all right. I've been round once already, but another look won't hurt."

Accompanied by the sounds of Draco's epic struggle, John wandered through the disturbingly clean rooms of the ultramodern flat, shaking his head at the stark minimalist decor. The place looked like one of those showcase homes--someplace that had never been occupied, but was just there to remind real people what lousy housekeepers they were. He supposed demonic powers must make the housework easy, if not totally unnecessary, but still...

It was this unnatural cleanliness that finally drew his attention to a small slip of paper peeking out from beneath the edge of a decorative table. John bent and picked it up. It was a receipt from a book shop--and not, he noted with interest, Aziraphale's.

Let There be Lust, by Misty Moore, he read, then incredulously read it again. What the fuck? Sounds like some sappy romance novel.

He couldn't picture Crowley taking an interest in that kind of rubbish. Though admittedly, he thought he'd seen a couple of romances lying around when he'd first visited the demon up at the Manor. He nearly binned the thing, but decided at the last minute to hold on to it, just in case it turned out to be important.

Returning to the living room with nothing more to show for his efforts, he was met by a drenched and bedraggled but triumphant Draco, his arms full of water pistols (some still sporting the odd creeper or two.) Glancing over the kid's shoulder, he saw leaves scattered everywhere and several overturned pots.

"Hail the conquering hero," he said with a grin. "Place looks clean; all I found that looked out of place was this." He showed Draco the receipt. "Doesn't seem quite Crowley's style, though somehow a holy assassin who reads smut in his spare time seems not quite on, either. Still. Might be worth mentioning." He tucked the receipt into Draco's breast pocket. "Ready to clear out?"