voidtreckerexpress | Party Time

Crowley's smile says everything Aziraphale needs to know: That a stop would present a unique opportunity for them to stretch their legs, that Crowley has absolutely no intention of following standards for how all of this works, and that they're going to use every excuse to fuck off and follow their own agenda that they can extend.

"Good. Gives us an opportunity to pick up some local produce."

That smile usually spells trouble. A lot of trouble. And yet Aziraphale doesn't find himself particularly worried about it, whether that be due to the energy in the room, how charming Crowley is tonight, or because Aziraphale gets the message loud and clear and agrees entirely.

"Could do with some variety."

Crowley snickers, leaning into Aziraphale a bit. "Speaking of, how about we mix up the soundtrack, hmm?"

Crowley gives the angel a mischievous look, takes a sip of their drink, then lets go of their grip on his arm to snap their fingers. In an instant, the current song changes. the soundtrack suddenly interspersed with classic rock ballads.

Pleased with themselves, they toss back the rest of their drink in a celebratory way, arm latching back onto the angel's.

Aziraphale stops to listen, watching as some of the other partygoers seem a bit confused over the sudden change of song right in the middle of a track. Aziraphale doesn't quite recognize the song, and the style isn't much his thing, but Crowley seems happy enough, and he'll take that as a good thing.

"A bit better." He'll say so much, even if just for airs. He leads the demon back over to the drinks, looking for a different bottle to top off both their glasses.

"I know it isn't your music of choice," they start, as they are lead back to the drinks, "But I feel we might been to wean them all into it, a few decades at a time... hm?"

As their drinks are topped off, Crowley takes another sip. Eventually, they'll need to leave the party if they want to continue drinking.

"I know angels aren't much for dancing, but with the slower songs there isn't much movement needed."

Aziraphale sips his drink, watching all the other people and different creatures at the party, and wondering, for a moment, just how many different places they have come from. But his attention seems to have trouble diverging from one specific subject. Might be the drink.

"Oh, hum." He idly taps his finger on his glass. "I haven't danced in a rather long time, I'm afraid." Mostly forgetting Crowley wasn't there at the time, when he found himself in gentleman's clubs, as the two of them hadn't been on speaking terms. "I'm afraid I'm a bit rusty."

Crowley's brow raises at the idea of the angel being rusty at something he was pretty sure angels didn't even involve themselves with. What other secrets does the angel hide away?

"You could always follow my lead " they suggest, "Unless you aren't comfortable..."

But is it that surprising that Aziraphale, formerly an angel of Heaven, lover of all things earthly, bender of rules, did something that angels are known for not doing?

"Oh, I, I don't know..." But he doesn't really look uncomfortable, with the coy way he smiles, thinking about the idea of actually sharing a dance with the demon. Perhaps an invitation, ironically enough, for their own song and dance as always, if the demon can convince him.

Not a surprise at all in action, but certainly one in Crowley never having heard about it. The demon takes note of that coy little smile, and Crowley takes a healthy gulp of their drink, leaning back toward the dance floor, their hand sliding across the angel's forarm until they can grip firmly at his hand.

"Oh, come on, you'll love it." Crowley eggs him on in a teasing tone, grin wide on their lips, feeling properly buzzed, at least enough so to embarrass an angel just a little.

Well, it's not like anyone is really watching. Plus they're wearing masks, not that they're very effective. And there's no one there, anymore, that could ever tell them they shouldn't do it, or get them in trouble for it. And that grin on Crowley's face, their intoxicating charm, overriding even the lower quality of the party...

"Oh, fine." He finally consents, but not before finishing his drink and putting his glass away. " I suppose one dance won't hurt."

Crowley too finishes their drink, discarding the glass so that they can take both of the angel's hands in theirs.

"That's the spirit." Crowley chuckles, stepping backwards and leading Aziraphale to the edge of the dance floor. Once there, lithe arms are sliding up Aziraphale's and shoulders, finding a place to rest around his head.

"All you have to do is hold my waist, angel, and then follow my lead, yeah? It's just a little sway, really. Doesn't take skill."

It's heartwarming, really, to see the demon in such high spirits. Things had been obviously... tense before the failed Armaggedon, and they hadn't even had time to properly celebrate anything before they found themselves in some supposedly impossible misadventure. Not that anything is resolved just yet, but he'll take respite where he can, and this seems like a good evening for it.

Aziraphale considers the instructions, and sets gentle hands on either side of the demon's waist. "Like so?" He asks, smiling up at them for confirmation.

"Perfect." Crowley replies, beginning to sway their hips in time with the music, feet stepping gently side to side. If Aziraphale looked around, he'd see that everyone else isn't doing anything differently.

"Humans don't really take the time to learn a proper dance anymore." they note, smiling down at the angel as they sway, "See? Simple."

Crowley feels just a bit buzzed from their drinking, and it's lovely. A real mood-lifter, and though their situation isn't back to normal, the two of them have easily found themselves in an improved situation than before, however uncomfortable. The past several months were hard on them both, but Crowley thinks they wouldn't trade it for the world, because it only pushed them together, forced them to admit things to one another that may have otherwise gone unsaid. Crowley feels spoiled to be so close to the angel now, in a circumstance that may, if not for the fact that they are attending a very silly party on an impossible train, might be considered romantic.

Aziraphale could look around, yes, and maybe he does spare the room a quick momentary glance. But he's not very inclined to look away from the demon for too long, even though there's something about this moment that gives him butterflies in his stomach. His expression settles into something soft, despite almost wanting to laugh over this whole scene - where they are, in a party thrown by someone they don't know, in a train full of different people and creatures all equally mysteriously stuck in it, apparently soaring through the void between worlds, in an unexpected trip through different dimensions, after helping, in some way, probably, adverting the end of theirs. It's preposterous. You could even call it silly.

And, yet, here they are, slowdancing to some song he's sure Crowley knows better than he does, gently buzzed by whatever drinks they got their hands on, ignoring everything else. He can see the glint of Crowley's eyes through their lacy mask, but not much else. He wonders if he could stand it if he did.

"Didn't take you for a slowdancer." He eventually speaks again. "If I recall correctly, you were much more given to more...energetic styles."

The demon never particularly had trouble seeing through dark lenses, even in the dead of night, but the lace does present a different challenge, and Crowley does yearn for these masks to be discarded, so that they can properly appreciate the glimmer of Aziraphale's bright blue eyes.

"You've never seen me dance." they remind Aziraphale, mostly out of embarrassment. Aziraphale may have seen them... or at least heard of the sort of dancing done in hell, but Crowley prefers an air of mystery and drama.

Crowley glances to the side, hoping to give their warm cheeks a break, hiding them away from the angel in a manner that only tugs him closer, and scans the area for more alcohol, wondering if another glass or two would settle their nerves.

"You're doing just fine, by the way."

He hasn't seen them dance, not really, but stories about demonic dances were something that was used to further foment the fact that angels don't dance (well, most angels). Whether angels refused to dance because demons did, or demons danced because angels refused to, or its all just a bunch of old made up silly rules rules of long forgotten origin made to further distance themselves from each other, well, it doesn't really matter.

Aziraphale feels himself tugged closer to the demon and he feels his cheeks flush. Good thing they're not properly facing each other just then, for it might be a tad too embarassing.

He clears his throat. "Thank you. You're, um. You're a good teacher." He doesn't even know what the hell that just was.

Crowley might choose to tease harder at Aziraphale's comment if they weren't so damn nervous themselves. They're not even sure why at this point, since the two of them had seemingly been more comfortable with each other for a while now. This just feels so different... likely because it's formal.

Crowley clears their throat, the song comes to an end and they pull back just slightly from Aziraphale with a soft expression, the change in music being one that doesn't really lend itself to slow dancing anyway. "Why don't we get another drink?"

There's really no reason to be so nervous. It's just a dance, and they've gotten so much closer in the past several months, this shouldn't be too different. It's just a silly little party, a distraction...

"Oh,hum, yes." As he only registers the ending of the song when Crowley pulls away, his hands slipping back onto their sides. "Yes, I could go for another glass."

Crowley tugs Aziraphale along back to the refreshments, where more drinks are poured. Crowley is drinking theirs almost before Aziraphale's is even in his hands, in a great deal of a rush to get themselves a bit tipsy and calm their nerves.

"We can try again, if you'd like..." Crowley mutters, "If we're blessed with the appropriate music."

Aziraphale is somewhat distracted by his own minute to minute assessment of how the evening is going to properly notice just how fast they're drinking, but even when he does see it, he assumes it to be related to just how scarce proper alcohol has been for them as of late.

He's bringing his glass to his lips when they make the comment. He glances over the glass as he sips, a small knowing smile covered by it.

"Well... Perhaps we shall be so lucky." Because dancing is quite fun, and he hasn't done it for a while. And maybe he's growing a fondness for these slower steps.

As the evening proceeds, the two decide to detach from one another long enough to socialize with other passengers. Crowley works through their nerves with more to drink and finds themselves stealing glances with the angel even when they are apart. By the time they've regrouped it's possible that anything that was alcoholic in the room had been consumed by one of them at some point, and Crowley is indeed feeling tipsy, but also a bit bored.

If it wasn't evident before, it is by the way they slink back across the room to the angel, quick to drape themselves around him again, talking rather close and just a little louder than necessary.

"I was just thinking--" Crowley began, somehow recognizing their volume and bringing it down a notch, "I was thinking there might be something better to drink in the kitchen. Care to take a walk?"

Aziraphale flutters around the room for the bits of time they're apart, stopping by the refreshments a couple of times in hopes of finding something palatable to eat and to get himself another drink. Words are exchanged with a few of the other partygoers, a few strange but tolerable moments are had, but more often than not he catches himself quite distracted, eyes finding the demon across the room every so often.

After a while, and an untold number of drinks, he standing off the side of the room, and partly tolerating the slightly erratic music that continuously plays through, but mostly lost in slightly drunk-hazy thought . He doesn't quite catch sight Crowley before they're already on him (maybe it was something about demons and lurking). He only winces slightly before the volume of their voice is back under control.

"Oh, yes, I suppose we might have ran their refreshments dry." He says, checking his very empty glass, numbered some number he can't quite recall. "Would it be a tad rude to leave early?"

Crowley shakes their head, the usual assortment of disjointed noises coming from their lips.

"No, no, quite the opposite. Wouldn't want to overstay our welcome." they reply, shifting slightly on their feet. Crowley links their arms again, pointing Aziraphale across the way to the door opposite the one they entered through. "This way, angel... to the kitchen."

"I do think you're right." He accepts easily enough, his mumbling and slurring still at a rather manageable level. He's not even that worried about manners, just trying to keep up airs.

"To the kitchen it is." And he leads them out of the gym, the loud music left behind them as soon as the door closes.

The cold of the spots between cars makes Crowley cling tighter somehow to the angel's arm, and despite their moment in that spot before entering the standard coach, Crowley's closeness remains.

"I think that's where they keep all the good wine." Crowley notes, remembering the spider from earlier. "Certainly a bottle won't be missed. If the party's any indication there aren't many on this train that drink."

It doesn't take long to cross a train car when moving quickly through it, and Crowley is nowhere near stumbling drunk yet, so they're to the next door before they know it.

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Pressing FFwd as discussed.

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