Chapter Text
Hell had announced to Crowley that he had mischief to create in the Americas, or at least stir the pot a little more than what it usually was. It was the 90s, and between the remnants of the punk scene and the fury of the queers, Crowley wasn’t sure they really needed him for mischief.
But orders were orders and he wasn’t one to turn down an escape from England. Besides, Freddie had told him that there were fun places in the U.S. that he’d love - and he never questioned his Fred.
0
This club in particular was a riot in the making, pulsating music and the back and forth of the people dancing and looking for a good time. There were all sorts of people, combinations, and dressing in the crowd and it filled Crowley’s grace-hollowed heart with joy to see these people whose ancestors had been so terrified of being outed being so happy and secure in who they were.
They sat along the bar, presenting neither here nor there, and watched the hungry looks from both ends of the spectrum before turning their eyes elsewhere. And, knowing that it’d only be seen as an angel trying to undo their actions, they’d bless them and hopefully protect them from Pestilence’s grasp.
“I saw that,” a voice said to Crowley’s right after blessing the grinding couple at the center of the crowd. “Didn’t think something like you would do something like that.”
Crowley’s hair stood on edge as they turned to the stranger. There was something eerie about this newcomer, the aura just right to be human but not enough to hide the inhuman nature.
“What do you know about what I am?” asked Crowley, eyebrow perched above the sunglasses.
The stranger laughed, “A demon, straight from Christian hell. I’m a god, and take it from one snake to another - there’s a lot of mischief two beings like us could get into around here. But you’re choosing to bless instead.”
Again, Crowley scanned them, long black hair and icy grey eyes that spoke of frost and their heart dropped, “Loki.”
“You have me at a disadvantage, you know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
“Crowley,” they answered, wary of the hand now stretched between them. “But I don’t know if the mischief you’re up to is up my alley.”
Around the two, the crowd of pulsating bodies quickened into a frenzy with the music before the placating tones of a familiar voice eased them into slow movements. The change brought a few breathless men to the bar, leaning at Loki’s side.
“Are you done flirting, gorgeous,” one of them asked Loki. “I thought you were going to give us a good time tonight?”
The other man raised an eyebrow and let his gaze slide up Crowley’s body, “Although, I don’t mind sharing with someone like that .”
Loki laughed, “They’re not interested right now,” they turned those icy grey eyes towards Crowley, “but something tells me they’ll come around.”
Crowley scoffed, “In your dreams. Now, get lost and give them what you promised.”
As the three walked away, Crowley was sure to send a quick blessing towards the men - and by the glance that Loki sent their way, they had sensed it.
0
It seemed that Crowley was being followed by the Trickster. At every club they went to, the god was there - presenting as a voluptuous female that echoed the beauty of his Norse heritage, or as a bright, young, thing with tight clothes and innocence painted onto the ancient face - and Crowley did their best to stay away.
Sometimes unsuccessfully.
“I think you’re trying to avoid me,” said Loki, this time a young man. “Do I frighten you?”
Crowley scoffed, “Hardly. But I know that you’re more in Pestilence’s corner right now with the actions you’re taking - and I refuse to do their dirty work.”
Loki’s eyes scanned Crowley’s face, “You don’t want to cause trouble?”
“Just because the likes of us are called tricksters and tempters doesn’t mean that’s all there is to us,” said Crowley, lifting the glass to their lips. “These people have enough on their plates without us shitting on them.”
“Then why,” Loki asked, frowning, “hang out in places like these?”
“I identify.”
“And the blessings?”
A sip, and then a tang of demonic fury radiated from Crowley, “Pestilence had the audacity to take a friend of mine. I don’t appreciate it - and I’ll be damned once again if I let them take more innocent lives.”
Loki was quiet, thoughtful about Crowley’s words and he focused on the party-goers before them. He then turned to Crowley themself, eyes running from head to chest and back up before pushing off the bar.
“I’ll be seeing you, you stunning snake.”
0
It was almost sweltering with the bodies around them, pressing and with rage that would make Hell proud.
They called it the new March on Washington, a call-back to the first declaration for the rights of marginalized people. This wasn’t about marginalization - this was about the government letting thousands of people die because they believed a disease was a punishment.
Crowley had joined the crowd with as much anger as the humans had, the same indignity that burrowed into their heart at the time of the flood returned for this fight. They thought of Freddie, of all the hands he held while spending time in the hospital wings dedicated to AIDS victims and the rage fueled his steps.
When someone got tired, he’d spark their feet enough to give them a boost.
Keep going , they thought. Keep going so they know how we feel .
And Crowley felt a matching rage across the crowd before they spotted a familiar head of sleek, black hair.
Unlike the last few times they’d met up, this Loki wasn’t there to build disaster. She, for that’s what form she was in, was focused straight on the speakers on the stairs and not on any of the salacious looks that were being thrown her way. This wasn’t a trickster anymore, this was a god among the populous fighting for their rights and lives.
A smile pulled at Crowley’s lips and went to join the crowd now pulling the quilt out and spreading each square taut, every life lost to this government’s inaction. The icy aura of Loki closed in soon after, manicured hand pulling the fabric to their right.
“I’m sorry, handsome,” she said, under her breath.
“For what?”
Loki gave a little chime of a laugh, “I thought you didn’t like me because you thought less of me - I didn’t think that it was because you cared for humanity.”
Crowley scrunched up their nose, “Don’t let people hear you, I have a reputation to uphold. But, you’re not wrong . I didn’t want to be dragged into whatever mess you were trying to create. Plus, I thought you were stalking me.”
“I was just a little,” answered Loki.
The two of them straightened up as the last corner of the quilt was laid and Crowley sent her a look over his glasses, revealing their golden slits to the other supernatural being.
“I couldn’t help myself, you’re fucking gorgeous and I just wanted a little - taste ,” she said, giving a shrug. “Figured out that you were the tempter from a few incubi I found at clubs and I figured you’d be down to - get down.”
A bright blush crossed the already sun-reddened face of Crowley as they choked out, “Oh. Um - ahem. That’s really - I mean - I’m not really that kind of tempter.”
Loki’s laugh echoed through the mall, “Of course not. I know a being in love when I see them - and actually pay attention. But until this is all over, I will be flirting endlessly with you. I don’t give up that easily.”
Crowley could just shake their head, “I wish you luck but that’s a dead-end, my friend.”
She shrugged, “Still. A fun journey.”
0
Loki had heard about the failed apocalypse of the Judeo-Christians, about how the original tempter and an angel had somehow outsmarted (or outdumbed) both sides and made it out on the other end and his interest was piqued.
He’d known that Crowley lived in London, and it wasn’t hard to trace angelic grace to its source - a corner bookshop that seemed to spill-over with the amount of literature within.
An early copy of the Poetic Edda in hand, Loki hid in the shadows and watched the heavenly creature as he scared off customers with the large black snake that was perched on his shoulders.
“A snake to a snake,” said Loki with a laugh.
Shop cleared from other customers and mind made up, he sidled up to the beautifully plump bookkeeper, “Lovely collection you have here. I haven’t seen such a well-kept copy of the Edda since, well, since an old friend of mine’s. And an even more gorgeous specimen around your neck.”
The snake gave a loud and sibilant hiss as the angel turned to him, “Well, thank you. And I think he’s lovely too. Most beautiful snake in the world.”
Another hiss from the snake, this time a shier sound as it ducked its head under the chin.
“Not as gorgeous, though,” continued Loki, mischief in his eyes, “as the one holding the snake.”
He blushed and the snake hissed again, an angry sound that brought a full smile to his face, “Oh, well, thank you dear, I just - it’s not.”
“Get losssst, Loki,” the snake said, lifting itself from the shoulder he was resting on and slithering to the ground where it transformed into a human - into Crowley. “That’ssss not funny.”
Loki chuckled, “Don’t be grumpy, Crowley, I wasn’t going to steal him away. I was just curious about the being that I had been competing against. I understand why I lost. Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
Crowley, blushing turned to his friend, “Loki, this is Aziraphale. Angel, this is the Trickster - Loki.”
Aziraphale bowed his head, “A pleasure, Lord Loki. But - competing? What were we competing for?”
Another chuckle, “Oh, lovely angel, don’t worry about it - it wasn’t even a competition.”
Still confused, Aziraphale turned to Crowley then to Loki, “Would you like to stay for a spot of tea? I’d love to know how the two of you met.”
At Crowley’s loss of color, Loki’s smile turned sharp, “Lead the way.”