J'Oublierai Jamais Sa Réponse.
So, like, I'm totally blaming this one on gyzym because she posts things like this and doesn't discourage me from running off with the idea and writing it! Just. what the fuck is my life that I'm this ridiculous without apology?
So here, have 1,538 unbeta'd words about Danny and Steve as Aziraphale and Crowley, respectively. Please keep in mind that I do not think I have even come close to capturing the madcap, absurd style of Messrs. Gaiman and Pratchett, and I'm really, terribly sorry if it doesn't work for you. I hope it's not horribly out of character. :O I'm basically just writing this to make Jizzy happy because she is delightful and I adore her.
I hope you like it, bibi! ♥
Look, Danny knows the plan, all right? There was a whole chain of command thing where the plan, or at least the important part of the plan, was explained to him in as much detail as he could get, considering that he was just an angel and knowing the whole ineffable plan was above his paygrade. Station. Thingy.
Not that he'd say that out loud. Steven's influence has a fairly far reach most days, a side effect of spending so much time with him and trying to turn him toward the side of Good, but it hasn't reached quite that far that Danny's going to mouth off to the Archangel who carries around flaming swords in his off-hours. Human behavior tends to baffle him most of the time, but after thousands of years of earth, most of them spent under the corrupting influence of one of Hell's lower, most aggravating minions, Danny's learned the art of self-preservation. It mostly involves standing still and not saying all the things you really want to say, even though they really should be said.
It's a much harder lesson for Danny than you'd think.
So he knows the plan and how it's supposed to go, but somehow, sitting in Steve's pick-up truck, listening to Journey's 'Don't Stop Believin', a classic American tune with vocals by one Freddie Mercury, he is less convinced of its ineffability. Especially with the way Steve keeps smirking at him as he runs yet another red light and tries to swerve into the Jag.
"No," Danny says firmly, scowl already in place, even though he's only been in the truck for five minutes, and Steve rolls his eyes.
"I was aiming for the bumper," he sighs, adjusting his shades (and it's ridiculous that he's even wearing those because it's nighttime and Danny's never going to understand demons and their need for unnecessary dramatics and absurd accessories), so that he can look over at Danny with a petulant expression that still gets Danny, even though he tries so hard not to be affected by him. Hellspawn, demon, fraternization with the enemy, and there are rules about this sort of thing, but Danny still keeps coming back to earth every year to have coffee and malasadas with Steve. He'll deny it to his uncreation, but he maybe does enjoy Steve's company a little, and Hawaii does have really good coffee and doughnuts. It won't compare to New Jersey, of course, but not much can.
"Admit it," he urges Steve, reaching over to gently tap his fingers against Steve's arm. "I'm a good influence on you. A millennium ago, you would've tried to drive him off a cliff."
Steve gives him a cutting look. "Do you mind keeping your voice down?" He looks nervously at the radio of his truck. "I don't want to the bosses to hear you say anything about good influences, okay? I like this body and these clothes and this truck, I don't want to give them up."
Danny cocks his head to the side and looks at Steve's cargo pants and yet another one of his gray T-shirts. "Really? You like those clothes?"
Grinding his teeth, Steve flips him off and reaches over to turn the CD player on. For a moment, Danny hears a familiar voice, rough and beautifully weary and uplifting, and his heart soars as his favorite song comes on. And then the song switches and he hears the heavy thumping beat as the singer wails, "Another one bites the dust."
Danny pinches the bridge of his nose and wonders if there's ever been a precedent for an angel's head exploding from sheer rage. Because he's pretty sure he's at that point right now. "What are you-- why does that-- just--" His words just derail into sputtering, inarticulate fury and rude hand gestures that he's learned from years of driving with Steve on the Moanalua Freeway.
Steve's smirking like the asshole that he is. "What was that, Danno?"
"What is wrong with your fucking car?" he finally manages to spit out after his jaw works soundlessly for a few seconds. "Why does it always-- that was the Boss, that was Springsteen, you do not do that to-- not for-- why is it always Queen and Freddie Mercury and I hate your fucking truck, Steven, truly I do."
Steve laughs, and it's a sign of how far Danny has fallen in his standing as an angel that he feels a creeping, reluctant fondness for the miserable bastard sitting next to him. "You look nice when you're angry," Steve tells him with a pleased grin. "Of course," he adds in an off-hand manner that's belied by his tight grip on the wheel, "you look nice all the time, so--"
"Shut up and pay attention to the road," Danny says, feeling his ears go hot at the side look Steve gives him. He is a terrible angel, he thinks as Steve pretends that he's not watching Danny, and Steve is an even worse minion of Hell. If they're not careful, they'll be fired for not performing their duties perfectly, and despite what humans think, Heaven and Hell do not have decent severance packages. (The angels and demons had argued for one, as well as a good insurance plan, but Heaven had argued that since Hell had invented bureaucracy, it would completely defeat the purpose of Heaven to adopt it into their daily lives, and everyone had been sulky for millennia afterwards.)
It's all well and good to argue about the ineffability of the plan and all that, but Danny still isn't sure that this is going to work out the way the good Lord had intended it to work, and he doesn't really have a back-up career if Hell ends up winning this war.
"Don't worry," Steve says reassuringly as he pulls into the driveway of their favorite coffeehouse. "It'll work."
"You don't know that," Danny says, gloomy and not caring if that isn't the proper demeanor of an angel. He feels schlumpy and disheartened, and he'd kill for a good slice of pepperoni right now. Well, not actually kill, just... you know what he meant.
It's official: he's been hanging around Steve for way too long. Next thing, he'll be drinking beer and and driving badly and eating pizza with pineapple on it and the world might as well end then.
"It'll work." For a demon, Steve is remarkably optimistic. It's probably all the beaches and sunshine in Hawaii. Danny is appreciative of all the beauty in nature, but there's something unnatural and sinister about Hawaii's relentless greenery and sunshine and beautiful people and tourists. He thinks it might be Hell's doing; it seems right up their alley. "I mean, that plan's in--"
"Say 'ineffable' one more fucking time," Danny snaps, goaded beyond measure by Steve's hearty cheer in the face of an honest-to-God impending apocalypse when Danny's freaking out about every little thing that could go wrong. Seriously, do you know how many events have come into play to make this apocalypse happen? Everything is aligned and this apocalypse is going to happen and fuck the plan because Danny is sure that it's all going to go horribly wrong. "I dare you."
Steve tilts his head at him and regards him with curious eyes, and if Danny didn't know better, he'd swear that Steve was concerned about him. Which is ridiculous because hello, demon, they only care about causing chaos and daytime TV. "Maybe we shouldn't give you coffee," he finally says with a pointed look at Danny's nervous drumming of his fingers on his thigh. "You're jittery enough as it is."
"Shut up and buy me coffee," Danny sighs, "and I'll consider not screaming about the end of the world in the middle of the bakery."
Steve pushes his shades up and smiles, looking years younger than he should, and Danny knows that this is just one of those things he does to get on Danny's nerves. "Ineffable," he says, teasing and light, and Danny shakes his head and gets out of the truck.
"I'm not doing it," he clarifies, looking through the window at Steve, "only because I really like this place and want to come back here."
"After the plan works?" Steve sounds quiet and hopeful, and Danny's heart aches a little. Maybe he's not the only one freaking out about this; maybe he's not the only one that needs to believe this will all work out.
"After the plan works," he agrees, and tells himself he's being a fool when his heart jumps at Steve's smile. "And then," he adds, with a glare in Steve's direction, "you're going to fix your fucking truck so I can listen to Bon Jovi in peace or so help me, Steven--"
Steve looks thoughtful as Danny comes around to his side. "I don't know," he says, his arm reaching over to rest on Danny's shoulder, "I think 'Livin' On A Prayer' sounds a lot better when Freddie sings it."
"Blasphemy," Danny snorts, and lets Steve tug him into the coffeeshop. He doesn't even say anything when Steve's hand moves lower to rest casually on Danny's waist.
The plan is ineffable, he knows, and they'll have time to explore that later.
So here, have 1,538 unbeta'd words about Danny and Steve as Aziraphale and Crowley, respectively. Please keep in mind that I do not think I have even come close to capturing the madcap, absurd style of Messrs. Gaiman and Pratchett, and I'm really, terribly sorry if it doesn't work for you. I hope it's not horribly out of character. :O I'm basically just writing this to make Jizzy happy because she is delightful and I adore her.
I hope you like it, bibi! ♥
Look, Danny knows the plan, all right? There was a whole chain of command thing where the plan, or at least the important part of the plan, was explained to him in as much detail as he could get, considering that he was just an angel and knowing the whole ineffable plan was above his paygrade. Station. Thingy.
Not that he'd say that out loud. Steven's influence has a fairly far reach most days, a side effect of spending so much time with him and trying to turn him toward the side of Good, but it hasn't reached quite that far that Danny's going to mouth off to the Archangel who carries around flaming swords in his off-hours. Human behavior tends to baffle him most of the time, but after thousands of years of earth, most of them spent under the corrupting influence of one of Hell's lower, most aggravating minions, Danny's learned the art of self-preservation. It mostly involves standing still and not saying all the things you really want to say, even though they really should be said.
It's a much harder lesson for Danny than you'd think.
So he knows the plan and how it's supposed to go, but somehow, sitting in Steve's pick-up truck, listening to Journey's 'Don't Stop Believin', a classic American tune with vocals by one Freddie Mercury, he is less convinced of its ineffability. Especially with the way Steve keeps smirking at him as he runs yet another red light and tries to swerve into the Jag.
"No," Danny says firmly, scowl already in place, even though he's only been in the truck for five minutes, and Steve rolls his eyes.
"I was aiming for the bumper," he sighs, adjusting his shades (and it's ridiculous that he's even wearing those because it's nighttime and Danny's never going to understand demons and their need for unnecessary dramatics and absurd accessories), so that he can look over at Danny with a petulant expression that still gets Danny, even though he tries so hard not to be affected by him. Hellspawn, demon, fraternization with the enemy, and there are rules about this sort of thing, but Danny still keeps coming back to earth every year to have coffee and malasadas with Steve. He'll deny it to his uncreation, but he maybe does enjoy Steve's company a little, and Hawaii does have really good coffee and doughnuts. It won't compare to New Jersey, of course, but not much can.
"Admit it," he urges Steve, reaching over to gently tap his fingers against Steve's arm. "I'm a good influence on you. A millennium ago, you would've tried to drive him off a cliff."
Steve gives him a cutting look. "Do you mind keeping your voice down?" He looks nervously at the radio of his truck. "I don't want to the bosses to hear you say anything about good influences, okay? I like this body and these clothes and this truck, I don't want to give them up."
Danny cocks his head to the side and looks at Steve's cargo pants and yet another one of his gray T-shirts. "Really? You like those clothes?"
Grinding his teeth, Steve flips him off and reaches over to turn the CD player on. For a moment, Danny hears a familiar voice, rough and beautifully weary and uplifting, and his heart soars as his favorite song comes on. And then the song switches and he hears the heavy thumping beat as the singer wails, "Another one bites the dust."
Danny pinches the bridge of his nose and wonders if there's ever been a precedent for an angel's head exploding from sheer rage. Because he's pretty sure he's at that point right now. "What are you-- why does that-- just--" His words just derail into sputtering, inarticulate fury and rude hand gestures that he's learned from years of driving with Steve on the Moanalua Freeway.
Steve's smirking like the asshole that he is. "What was that, Danno?"
"What is wrong with your fucking car?" he finally manages to spit out after his jaw works soundlessly for a few seconds. "Why does it always-- that was the Boss, that was Springsteen, you do not do that to-- not for-- why is it always Queen and Freddie Mercury and I hate your fucking truck, Steven, truly I do."
Steve laughs, and it's a sign of how far Danny has fallen in his standing as an angel that he feels a creeping, reluctant fondness for the miserable bastard sitting next to him. "You look nice when you're angry," Steve tells him with a pleased grin. "Of course," he adds in an off-hand manner that's belied by his tight grip on the wheel, "you look nice all the time, so--"
"Shut up and pay attention to the road," Danny says, feeling his ears go hot at the side look Steve gives him. He is a terrible angel, he thinks as Steve pretends that he's not watching Danny, and Steve is an even worse minion of Hell. If they're not careful, they'll be fired for not performing their duties perfectly, and despite what humans think, Heaven and Hell do not have decent severance packages. (The angels and demons had argued for one, as well as a good insurance plan, but Heaven had argued that since Hell had invented bureaucracy, it would completely defeat the purpose of Heaven to adopt it into their daily lives, and everyone had been sulky for millennia afterwards.)
It's all well and good to argue about the ineffability of the plan and all that, but Danny still isn't sure that this is going to work out the way the good Lord had intended it to work, and he doesn't really have a back-up career if Hell ends up winning this war.
"Don't worry," Steve says reassuringly as he pulls into the driveway of their favorite coffeehouse. "It'll work."
"You don't know that," Danny says, gloomy and not caring if that isn't the proper demeanor of an angel. He feels schlumpy and disheartened, and he'd kill for a good slice of pepperoni right now. Well, not actually kill, just... you know what he meant.
It's official: he's been hanging around Steve for way too long. Next thing, he'll be drinking beer and and driving badly and eating pizza with pineapple on it and the world might as well end then.
"It'll work." For a demon, Steve is remarkably optimistic. It's probably all the beaches and sunshine in Hawaii. Danny is appreciative of all the beauty in nature, but there's something unnatural and sinister about Hawaii's relentless greenery and sunshine and beautiful people and tourists. He thinks it might be Hell's doing; it seems right up their alley. "I mean, that plan's in--"
"Say 'ineffable' one more fucking time," Danny snaps, goaded beyond measure by Steve's hearty cheer in the face of an honest-to-God impending apocalypse when Danny's freaking out about every little thing that could go wrong. Seriously, do you know how many events have come into play to make this apocalypse happen? Everything is aligned and this apocalypse is going to happen and fuck the plan because Danny is sure that it's all going to go horribly wrong. "I dare you."
Steve tilts his head at him and regards him with curious eyes, and if Danny didn't know better, he'd swear that Steve was concerned about him. Which is ridiculous because hello, demon, they only care about causing chaos and daytime TV. "Maybe we shouldn't give you coffee," he finally says with a pointed look at Danny's nervous drumming of his fingers on his thigh. "You're jittery enough as it is."
"Shut up and buy me coffee," Danny sighs, "and I'll consider not screaming about the end of the world in the middle of the bakery."
Steve pushes his shades up and smiles, looking years younger than he should, and Danny knows that this is just one of those things he does to get on Danny's nerves. "Ineffable," he says, teasing and light, and Danny shakes his head and gets out of the truck.
"I'm not doing it," he clarifies, looking through the window at Steve, "only because I really like this place and want to come back here."
"After the plan works?" Steve sounds quiet and hopeful, and Danny's heart aches a little. Maybe he's not the only one freaking out about this; maybe he's not the only one that needs to believe this will all work out.
"After the plan works," he agrees, and tells himself he's being a fool when his heart jumps at Steve's smile. "And then," he adds, with a glare in Steve's direction, "you're going to fix your fucking truck so I can listen to Bon Jovi in peace or so help me, Steven--"
Steve looks thoughtful as Danny comes around to his side. "I don't know," he says, his arm reaching over to rest on Danny's shoulder, "I think 'Livin' On A Prayer' sounds a lot better when Freddie sings it."
"Blasphemy," Danny snorts, and lets Steve tug him into the coffeeshop. He doesn't even say anything when Steve's hand moves lower to rest casually on Danny's waist.
The plan is ineffable, he knows, and they'll have time to explore that later.