1. San Bernardino — The Mountain Goats
"And it was hard but you were brave, you are splendid
And we will never be alone in this world
no matter what they say
We're gonna be okay"
Date: January, 2012
Place: JFK International Airport, New York City, USA
The rental car is a tiny, bright blue Honda Fit. When Crowley sees it, his jaw drops, hanging slightly lower than should be physically possible. "Honestly, angel? This is what you hired for us to drive across America in?"
"I think it's cute," the angel responds defensively. "And besides, it has good fuel economy."
"WE DON'T USE PETROL!"
Aziraphale waves his hand dismissively. "There now, you're just cranky from the plane ride. Come on, dear, you'll feel better once we hit the road."
"I'm cranky because you made me give up my first class seat," the demon complains.
"I did nothing of the sort! I was going to give up my first class seat to an expectant mother. You could have stayed right where you were."
"What, and sit next to that beached whale? She needed that seat for her kid, and you know it. And besides, she was BORING. What am I going to talk about with a stay-at-home mother from Croydon?"
"What have you got against Croydon?" the angel snaps as he begins to manhandle his overstuffed suitcase into the small trunk. The top sticks out when he's done, and he glares at it in frustration, pushing his glasses back on his nose.
Crowley, through millennia of experience, recognizes the gesture signaling that the angel has reached the end of his rope, and knows that something's going to be blessed soon if he doesn't intervene. "Alright, alright," he says, pushing his leather jacket into the angel's arms as a distraction. He wiggles the suitcase until it falls into the trunk.
"No, you're right, angel. We should just get underway. We've 30 days to see America in..." he trails off, giving the tiny, boxlike vehicle a dubious glare, "... style."
The angel's temper seems to settle as he slides into the passenger seat, immediately leaning it back 30 degrees. "I just can't wait to visit California. Ooh, Crowley, do you think we'll run into any famous actors?"
"I dunno, maybe. Personally I'm looking forward to Las Vegas, and the Devil's Tower in Wyoming. Oh, and Lawrence, Kansas."
The angel visibly rolls his eyes. "Oh, honestly, Crowley. Just because of that silly TV show..."
"Hey, Supernatural's a good show. You're just jealous that you don't have a character named after you."
"They got EVERYTHING WRONG. Everything! And their angels are simply awful..."
"So? Not all of them are, and anyways, it's fiction. I mean, their Crowley isn't nearly as good-looking or clever as me, but he's still fun. And you can't deny that their rebel angel is pretty hot."
...And he reminds me a bit of you, Crowley thinks. So willing to defy both Heaven and Hell to preserve the things he loves. He'll never say that part out loud, though. He doesn't want to draw too many parallels.
His angel will never be alone like Castiel — not for as long as Anthony J. Crowley exists in any shape or form.
Aziraphale sniffs in annoyance. "Oh, please. I know Cassiel, and that Cas fellow is nothing like her. They even spelled her name wrong! The poor girl would be simply mortified if she knew that there were people out there... shipping her."
"Her, huh? I thought you lot were still innately sexless," the demon teases, looking sideways with a little smirk.
"Oh, honestly, dear. Are you, of all creatures, going to hassle someone for choosing the feminine pronoun, Ms. 'I Like to Wear Breasts On Occasion'?"
(It's true. Crowley does have a certain... appreciation for the female form, at times.)
"Two words, angel. Multiple. Orgasms."
Aziraphale flushes bright red and Crowley grins wider in triumph, flicking the tip of his tongue against his teeth. "Sssso, angel, wanna tell me how you know about shipping?"
Aziraphale's voice suddenly gets very quiet.
"...I suppose I just picked it up somewhere..."
"...quite a well-known concept, really..."
"...looking for things to read, and I just..."
"It's okay. I already know that you read slash. I saw it in your browser history like, three months ago."
The angel pouts.
"Oh c'mon, 'Zira, it's fine. I read slash, too. Everybody on the blessed Internet reads slash, I think. Besides, doesn't Destiel shipping belong to you guys? I always assumed it was your side's answer to Wincest."
"Wait, you came up with Wincest?"
Crowley looks away, and tries to appear as if he's focusing really hard on the road.
"Ahem. Maybe that was all just humans."
Time to change the subject.
"So anyways, angel, how long until the first hotel?"