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History of the World According To Anthony J. Crowley & A. Z. "Ezra" Fell

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It was nearing two in the morning, though neither angel nor demon were tired enough to sleep.  And so they were sitting together on the it-shouldn't-be-this-long-but-it-is sofa, sharing bottles of wine and reminiscing.  "1200," Aziraphale finally said.

"Ugh."  Crowley heaved a deep sigh.  "1200, that was... blimey, that was Mongolia.  Had to do a bit of work on that boy, what was his name?  The one who did all the conquering."


"No, that was his title."  Crowley huffed. When you got to be six thousand years old, sometimes names slipped your mind.  "Temujin. That was his name, least when I knew him. Downstairs had him on track to be a shameless conqueror, destroying everything in his path, you know the type."  At Aziraphale's knowing nod, he continued. "Didn't even have to do much to nudge him along, you know? He'd already killed his brother, because his brother was stealing everything from him, taking credit for it, things like that."  Sort of like Hastur had tried to do Crowley, until Crowley started doing things Hastur didn't even understand.

"Of course fratricide would attract your lot," Aziraphale scoffed.  "Always the same story with them, going back to what works."

"Creative thinkers, demons are not," Crowley pointed out.  "Anyway, good thing I'd stayed in the area. He got caught by one of the rival tribes, and I was able to pose as a guard, and help him get out.  That really gave him some status then, that he'd escaped on his own, and without that escape, two of his generals wouldn't have fallen in behind him.  And without them, well, he wouldn't have been named Genghis."

"You posed as a Mongol?  Looking like this ?"  Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and waved a hand, indicating Crowley’s decidedly non-Mongolian complexion.

"Yes, looking like this," Crowley sneered.  "I just changed my hair color a bit." Or rather a lot, as red hair wouldn't quite be the familiar sight in Mongolia that it might have been elsewhere.  "Darkened it up, streaked it with a little black, got myself into the local clothing, and I fit in perfectly."

"Of course you did."  Aziraphale was snickering terribly.

"Speaking of attractive, did you know that he had at least four wives?  And quite a few concubines? The wives were usually daughters of tribal chiefs, wedded to Temujin to save lives or create political alliances.  The concubines were mostly booty, war chattel and the like." A shudder. Those poor girls hadn't had the worst lives, but they weren't the best either.

"Crowley, you didn't ."  Aziraphale looked properly scandalized at the thought of Crowley falling in with Khan's other guards and using those poor girls.

"Didn't what--oh, no, I didn't touch them, what do you think of me?"  He rolled his eyes at the insinuation. "I might be a demon but I have morals.  Unlike the Khan, who was quite the rampant slut. Fucked anything and everything that moved, apparently.  Even made eyes at me, once." Just the once.

"I'm not surprised, dearest.  One would have to be blind not to."  Aziraphale gave the demon a fond smile.  "And no, I didn't really think you'd abused those girls, but it's nice to hear the confirmation."  He liked hearing Crowley speak about the good things he did, and often encouraged it by assuming otherwise.

"I wasn't even presenting female at the time," he protested, practically pouting.

Aziraphale supplied the pragmatic answer of, "When has that ever mattered?  To either of us, really?"

Crowley stammered a bit.  ".... point taken. But still.  Bloody randy man."

"Moving along from the Khan's great sexual prowess," Aziraphale said loudly.  "How long did you stay in the area?"

Crowley grunted, and then stretched.  His spine clicked back into place, and he slumped against the couch.  "Oh, I don't know. Sixty, seventy years? Bastard didn't die early, he was 65.  That was ancient, for the day. He was ten years old when he killed his brother and I was there before that.  Sixty years. Didn't seem that long. Glad to get out of there, though. Wasn't fond of the yak cheese at all."

Aziraphale knew what that stretch and click meant, and knew he'd end up with a rather large and cuddly snake draped over him before too terribly much longer.  "Were they happy with what you'd done?"

"Oh, I don't know if they were ever happy, but they were certainly content.  Got a memo saying I'd done well, and they gave me the rest of the century off.  That's when I met up with you, around 1270 or so."

"Believe me, I remember.  I got quite a scolding from upstairs; I was supposed to make sure that Thomas finished Summa Theologica but a certain demon distracted me from my good deeds and he passed away before it was completed."

"That actually tickled the big guy.  Got a personal note from Satan himself congratulating me for that.  Didn't change anything, the Church still used it for every-bloody-thing, but at that point, he was just glad to poke them every once in awhile.  Even more pleased that I did it off the clock and on my own, didn't even have to be ordered there." He smiled up at Aziraphale, because he'd shifted during Aziraphale's scolding so that his head lay in the angel's lap while his legs hung over the arm of the sofa.  "Wasn't going to tell him I was there for another reason and just happened to distract you with my temptations."

Aziraphale stroked through Crowley's hair.  "Yes, well, that's a story for another night, I believe."  His cheeks were lightly flushed a delicate pink, because he recalled exactly what Crowley had tempted him with.  In fact, that had been the source of the oysters being aphrodisiacs story being revived and passed through to modern times.

Crowley just grinned rakishly and flickered his tongue out at the angel.

Aziraphale stuck his own tongue out at Crowley, scowling playfully when the demon laughed.  "Are you quite finished?"

"Almost."  Crowley stretched again, and his clothing slowly melted into scales as his legs melded and lengthened into a tail.  His face was the last to go, and he lifted a serpentine neck up to give Aziraphale a kiss on the cheek. Then the transformation was complete, and he coiled his tail around Aziraphale's thigh, wrapped his body around the angel's trunk, and left his head resting against his shoulder.  "Ssssssssweet dreamsssssss, angel," Crowley hissed, his tongue flickering gently against Aziraphale's ear before giving a ripple and snuggling in.

"Goodnight, my dear."  Aziraphale kissed Crowley on his head, and then stroked lazily down his scales.  He carefully cradled the snake's weight as he stood, and Crowley tightened just a little.  Together they went upstairs to Aziraphale's bedroom, where the angel was reading a world history penned by someone Crowley had never heard of, and Crowley slept, curled up around his angel.