Fandom: Good Omens:
Characters: Crowley, Aziraphale
Written for multifandom_pl, where the prompt was this paiting of Abraham and Izaak. Polish version of the fic is here
One good thing about Crowley was his timing. Wine and glasses appeared on the table the moment Aziraphale entered the room.
Under any other circumstances, he would say something about drinking, lips touching, and other things like these, or at least look mortified, but this time he just poured himself a glass and downed it promptly.
Crowley held back any remarks he felt coming, but just filled up his glass, then refilled the angel's.
"So, you've heard," Aziraphale said.
Crowley held back any further comments. Everyone had heard. Metatron was a terrible gossip. One shouldn't wonder.
"It was't my fault, not entirely," said Aziraphale. "The believers are so gullible. And enthusiastic," he added sadly.
"This could be a problem," Crowley agreed.
"And, they gave me wrong directions. Turn left when you pass the field. What field? Only damn... fields here!"
"I bet they didn't say which left, either," said Crowley, who thought he was getting the hang of this.
The Angel gave him an uncharitable look. "It was so... awkward."
"And bloody," supplied Crowley. He had heard about that too.
"Up to elbows in blood. Really, he couldn't have waited three more minutes?" Aziraphale sighed. "Now we'll have to find someone else. You know how difficult is to find a father willing to kill his son for faith?"
"I can imagine. So many other reasons," said Crowley.