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Crazy Little Thing Called Love

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Writing prompt: the Bentley being exasperated with Crowley and Aziraphale.

 

August 17th, 1933 Derby, England

 

The sun stretched in the West as the car dealership opened for the day. Several cars lined the lot, cool metal taking on a shine as the sun rose.

 

A tall thin man in black sunglasses sauntered up to the lot and began to study the metal rows critically. He tsk’d past the white metals, the creams, the parrot bright tones, sliding over to a lovely black car taking on the heat of the day.

 

“Hello beautiful.”

 

Me?  A single thought forming from ether, from a being that had never thought before.

 

“ ‘Ello there! Can I ‘elp you good sir?”

A salesman briskly walked towards the tall man, smiling through his teeth but not his eyes.

 

A snap of the tall man’s fingers.

“This car is mine. Get me the keys and whatever else for her.”

 

Her?  Thinking was new to the Bentley.

A bit difficult, like driving through deep water.

 

The salesman suddenly had the idea he had bought this car for an old friend and drifted back inside.
He could afford to after all, he was skimming profits from each sale.

 

The tall man ( her person? ) ran a tip of his long fingers over the lines of the door, over her hood, enjoying the heat she reflected back.

The salesman returned after not too long holding keys and paperwork.

 

“ ‘Ere you are sir, everything in order. Can I ‘elp you with anything else?”

 

The tall man didn’t reply, took the offered keys, tossed the paperwork in the back seat, and got in the car.

 

He ran his fingers over her steering wheel, adjusting in the driver’s seat until comfortable.  Reveled in the heat the interior had collected. He turned the key in her ignition, gripped the gearshift, and spoke to her:

 

“Alright beautiful, lets go fast.”

 

Well she liked the sound of that.

 


 

1941

 

Crowley had a passenger.

 

This was rare indeed, she couldn’t remember the last time an actual person was in her passenger seat. Actually, she was pretty sure it was when she was still at the dealership.

 

More on that note, this passenger seemed to be flustered. More than that, this passenger’s mere presence was flustering her driver. Not enough to distract him from driving, of course. He might not have realized he did it but a bit of his power was infused in her metal, she wouldn’t let her passengers come to harm as long as it was Crowley behind the wheel.

 

“Th- Er, um, that is th...Thank you, Crowley, my dear.”

 

Crowley’s hand gripped imperceptibly tighter on her steering wheel.

 

“Don’t mention it, angel.”

 

“Really, my boy, thank you. You saved me, more importantly you saved my books! I really don’t know how to thank you properly.”

 

Crowley shifted his hips slightly in her seat.

 

That was new .

 

“Really, angel. No need to thank me. It’d be boring without you around. Entirely self serving, an all that.”

 

The Bentley came to stop outside a stone building, as usual ignoring any kind of traffic signs and miraculously there was a spot just for her in front.

 

“Then... maybe... I could ‘tempt’ you in for a drink? To say thank you of course, I mean.”

 

This fidgety man in white enunciated “tempt” in a way the Bentley couldn’t understand but she did understand the emotion radiating from her driver even as he tried valiantly to clamp it down. His lips twitched at the corners, his eyebrow shot up just slightly, and he failed quite miserably at getting a hold on what shot through his decidedly not human heart.

 

“Of course, Aziraphale. Anything you want.”

 

Today was full of new things.

 


 

1960s

 

Aziraphale in her passenger seat, a thermos in her driver’s hands,

“You go too fast for me Crowley.”

 

She’d be insulted if she wasn't pretty sure that the comment had nothing to do with her.

 

That didn’t stop her from being angry at Aziraphale as he stepped from her side.

Crowley drove decidedly slow back to his flat and if a car could cry she would have.

 


 

 

1969

 

Crowley had seen an advert for a cassette player. Strictly speaking she never had the capacity for such things as she was made before all this modern nonsense.

 

But her demon didn’t seem to notice as one moment she didn’t have any musical ability and the next she had a very shiny new tape deck.

 

Like the bullet hole stickers she had tolerated this and resigned herself to the fact she was now a rolling jute box.

 


 

December 1972

 

Crowley popped in a cassette, as usual not noticing the Bentley wincing in irritation.

She had nothing against music but she was a car not a damn gramophone and would he mind just once not playing this...

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a lovely melodic noise.

 

🎵 I was told a million times of all the troubles in my way
Mind you grow a little wiser, little better every day
But if I crossed a million rivers and I rode a million miles
Then I'd still be where I started, bread and butter for a smile
🎵

 

Crowley tapped his long fingers on her steering wheel and this once it didn’t irritate her. Maybe this newfangled cassette player wasn’t so bad.

 


 

1978

 

“Beautiful. Please. Again?!”

 

Crowley was upset with her. He was never upset with her. But without quite meaning to all his cassettes were turning into Best of Queen. Really, she hadn’t meant to. It’s just that Freddie’s voice was the only one she could really enjoy coming from her speakers and well... he had infused part of his power in her.

 

This is really his fault in the end.

 

Crowley sighed, tossed the cassette in the back seat carelessly as he had done with all the others and resigned himself to “Breakthru” as he pulled into traffic.

 


 

Present day

 

Her driver in white, her passenger in black. An odd switch for the two.

Cake coming dangerously close to touching her seats.

 

Don’t you DARE.

 

A demon talking to Crowley through her speakers, oh how she hated that. The violation of it all. She didn’t blame Crowley. She had heard him begging them to use a damn telephone like everyone else but they preferred to treat her like a damn phone box.

 

Her occupants got her attention as she realized they were rather worried about something. She didn’t quite understand this Apocalypse business but she did not like it making her passengers unhappy.

 


 

London

 

“Crowley watch the road!”

 

Her non existent eyes rolled. Really, they were barely going 90mph and she had it well under control.

 

Crowley twitched the wheel, avoiding a pedestrian, as if he had to and she hadn’t already started turning the wheel, and he shot back a remark at the angel. She’d stopped listening at this point, they’d bicker and she had more important things to focus her attention on.

 


 

Tadfield 

 

She’d tried to press the brakes, she had. Crowley was so distracted by the angel his foot just would not let off her accelerator and the bike slammed into her side, the occupant rolling over her hood.

 

“You’ve hit someone!”

 

“No I haven’t. Someone hit me.”

 

Who cares who hit who?!  She. Had. Dings. Her beautiful chassis was DENTED. Crowley got out while she fretted, tutting this way and that.

 

Hands gliding over her like the first day at the dealership, she felt dings pop out with a inward wince from her. Easy enough for him but that HURT.

 

A bike rack appearing on her without her or her demon’s consent.  With... WAS THAT TARTAN?!

 

She blasted “Bicycle Race” the entire time the young girl was in her back seat. Hmph.

 

This is quickly shaping up to be the worst day of my life.

 

Crowley posed to follow Aziraphale into the shop, the angel running without so much as an offer to drink something.

What is going on with them?

 



London
 

Crowley driving her erratically to the angel shop.

 

“Angel please whatever I said I didn’t mean it! I’m making an effort, please, we can run away, Alpha Centuri!”

 

Her metal heart swelled.

 

Finally! After all these years! He’s telling him!!

 

The angel rejected him. Turned him away. Her demons heart breaking, yelling back in a pique of self loathing and anger.  Her frustration having no outlet she puffed black smoke from her tail pipe to choke a few pedestrians.

 


 

Crowley slamming her breaks, a streak of panic flooding his body as he breathed “angel...” before stomping on her gas pedal and willing them into speed even she was unaccustomed to.

“You’re My Best Friend” came from her speakers without her conscious effort.

 

No no no...

 

Crowley charging into the shop, flames leaping. She could hear him screaming. She could hear the moment his heart broke.

“Somebody to Love” played unbidden.

 

Crowley drenched in sweat, water, and soot in her drivers seat. Today she would not care about the stains. She had lost her passenger. He had lost his angel. Together they did not care about anything else. Crowley reaching for the compartment, she made sure his glasses were there. If ever he needed that armor it was today. She only wished she had something similar.

 


 

Crowley bounding into her seat, interrupting her dark thoughts. He was positively beaming.

 

“He’s alive. He’s ok. Just got to get to Tadfield. He’s ok. Thank Go..Sata...SOMEONE he’s alive.”

 

He’s alive?

 

Relief flooding through her, putting extra oomph in the drive.  Then the burning wall that was once the M25.

 

Now what?

 

Her passenger seat filling, a nasty smell flooding her cab, some asshole taking her demon’s sunglasses.

 

That. Is. It.

 

They’d used her for years as a damn telephone and now to top it off she was expected to carry one of these thoughtless bastards? In Aziraphale‘s seat no less?!

 

She felt Crowley thinking. She knew what was coming. She knew it would hurt. She didn’t care.

 

For Aziraphale. For the world. For you Crowley.

 

The unwanted passenger burned away, leaving her and her demon.

Her metal shrieked. Her wheels nothing but memories. Her speakers doing their best to play “I’m in Love With My Car”.

 

“You’re my car. I’ve had you from new. You. Will. Not. Burn.”

 

Oh she hurt. But she had a job to do.

 


 

Tadfield Airbase

 

“Bohemian Rhapsody” floated in the air since it could not possibly becoming from her non existent speakers any more. She didn’t so much stop as slump at the gates.

 

Her demon stepped out and greeted a small red headed woman as “Aziraphale” and she knew she had done well. He would be safe with the angel.

 

She rested, felt a pang, then knew no more.

 


 

After the Apoca-wasn't, London

 

Where...

 

Still disoriented she tried to remember what happened.

 

She remembered being on fire. Crowley and her combined wills holding together what little was left until she had delivered him to his angel.

 

But... she was not on fire. She wasn’t even burnt. She even seemed to better than she remembered. Freshly waxed, oil new, gas full, interior detailed, and... what is this?

 

A cassette/cd/mp3 player in her dash. Best of Queen and every album they’d ever produced loaded.

 

Crowley said Heaven was terrible and Hell the same.

Was car heaven different?

 


 

The Very First Day of the Rest of their Lives, London

 

Aziraphale in her passenger seat once again. She forgave every stupid comment from his mouth she was just so pleased to have his comforting weight back in her cab.

 

Driving to the Ritz. “I Was Born to Love You” playing gently from her speakers.

 

Crowley gripped her steering wheel as a warning. She didn’t care.

 

Aziraphale positively pink in the cheeks, babbling about some book. His hands twisting. His eyes glancing at Crowley’s hands.

 

Tonight is their night,  She thought dreamily.

 


 

Driving home from the Ritz. “It’s a Kind of Magic” playing quietly.

 

Nothing had changed. They both stole glances, sneaking a look, muttering replies, and overall they were both just being so... so... stupid.

 

Enough.

 

They stopped in front of the shop.

 

It was time.

 

“I suppose I should go see what Adam’s done to my shop. Though, if it’s anything like what he’s done for your Bentley I’ll be pleased.”

 

Charmer.

 

Aziraphale reached for the door. Her locks went down as far as she could hold them.

“Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy” burst from her speakers. She was almost eighty years old and she was DONE.

 

🎵 I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things
We can do the tango, just for two
🎵

 

“Crowley? Dear? Mind um, unlocking the doors?”

 

🎵 I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings
Be a Valentino, just for you
🎵

 

“Tha’s not me angel. What the...?”


🎵 Ooh love, Ooh lover boy
What're you doing tonight? Hey boy
Set my alarm, turn on my charm
That's because I'm a good old-fashioned lover boy
🎵

 

Crowley dipped his fingers around her lock, trying to disengage.

 

🎵 Ooh, let me feel your heartbeat (grow faster, faster)
Ooh, can you feel my love heat? (Ohh)
🎵

 

Aziraphale tugged at the door.


🎵 Come on and sit on my hot-seat of love
And tell me how do you feel right after-all
I'd like for you and I to go romancing
Say the word, your wish is my command
🎵

 

She held fast and refused to budge, increasing the volume from her stereo system.

 

🎵 When I'm not with you
Think of you always
I miss you (I miss those long hot summer nights)
When I'm not with you
Think of me always
Love you, Love you
🎵

 

Crowley practically clawing at the door. Aziraphale considering if he wanted to just miracle himself out, then finding that the car was barring any type of escape.

 

Sorry, boys. Not tonight.

 

🎵 Dining at the Ritz we'll meet at nine (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 o'clock) precisely
I will pay the bill, you taste the wine
Driving back in style, in my saloon will do quite nicely
Just take me back to yours, that will be fine (Come on and get it)
🎵

 

“Beautiful, please, I don’t know what has gotten into you but if you don’t let us out I swear I’ll... I’ll...”

 

You’ll what? You wouldn’t last a day without me.

 

“My dear I think the car is, uh, well that is to say I think the Bentley won’t let us leave.”

 

“Kinda already figured that with the doors and all, angel.”

 

“No, Crowley, I cannot leave. I can’t miracle myself out of this vehicle.”

 

“...Wut?”

 

If she could smirk she would.

 

“Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy” started again from the top.

 

Crowley thumped his head against the steering wheel.

 

“Are you trying to kill me beautiful?” He hissed against her steering column.

 

“What was that dear?”

 

“ ‘S nothing. I dunno know what to do. She’sss never done thiss before.”

 

He was properly hissing.

 

Almost there...

 

“Um. Crowley. Do you, well, I mean to say, that is...”

 

“Ssspit it out angel.”

 

“Is the Bentley perhaps speaking to you from, well, the current selection of musical accompaniment?”

 

Crowley froze. His head still on the steering wheel she felt every muscle tense and his breathing stopped.

 

Finally! 6000 years old and he gets it!

 

“Beautiful. Un. Lock. The. Doors.”

His tone was dangerous but he’d already driven her through most of England while on fire. His threats were empty.

 

Aziraphale, bless him, was the first to move. He reached out and took Crowley’s hand in both of his.

 

“Do... do you have anything you want to say to me, my dear?”

 

Crowley made a most undemonlike noise in his throat that sounded something like a dog toy being squished and a surprise Pomeranian.

 

“Because... if you do, that is, have something to say, I should very much like to say something back.”

 

Oh Aziraphale I’d kiss you if I had lips.

 

Crowley wasn’t blinking. He wasn’t breathing. For a moment she thought she may actually have killed him but he let out a sort of sputtering sigh and without his forehead leaving the steering wheel tilted his head to the angel.

 

“I love you, angel. Alwayss have. Ever sssince you gave away that ssstupid blesssed sssword and lifted your wingss to protect me from the rain. I love you.”

 

Yes !

 

The music stopped but neither noticed. Crowley had his eyes shut, looking very much like he expected the angel to strike him, spit on him, or both.

 

“I love you too, my dear.”

 

She felt Crowley’s hardened armor crack. Hope streamed through those cracks and the love that shoved it out about melted her dashboard.

 

“You... you do?”

 

“Of course my dear. I think from the beginning. I... I only let myself think it after the Blitz. Even then, I couldn’t... never mind what they did to me but what Hell would do to you... or worse if Heaven somehow got you before they did...”

 

The angel was rambling now. He’d pulled one hand back, gesturing or twisting his pant fold in lieu of being able to twist his other hand.

 

Crowley gripped the hand holding his and pulled the angel practically into his lap before planting a kiss on sputtering lips. Aziraphale made a startled noise before his eyes flitted shut and his lips opened. His moan pulled an equally sensational noise from Crowley’s throat. Hands moved from pant leg to gripping shirts, noises getting much more urgent.

 

With an audible click she unlocked the doors.

Only Crowley seemed to notice.

 

“Ang...mpthmmmmm..Angel, wait wait wait...”

 

Heavy breathing, noses touching.

 

“What my love?”

 

Crowley’s hips grinding in the drivers seat.  Aziraphale positively vibrating in the passengers seat.

 

“Are you sure... do you want this?”

 

Angelic hands tenderly pulling demonic sunglasses off and yellow meeting blue.

 

“More than anything my love. More than crepes.”

A teasing smile twisting the edges of the angels wet lips. A snorting laugh from a relieved demon.

 

“Then not in here, let’s go inside.”

 

Aziraphale’s turn to quirk an eyebrow.

 

“...Sstainss.” Crowley admitted sheepishly.

 

One moment they were in her seats, the next she assumed they were in the shop as they’d disappeared with a pop of air.

She was content. She’d done her job and then some.

 

“Crazy Little Thing Called Love” lazily played just for her.