If anyone thought that a car was just a car, Crowley would have beaten them upside the head with his own sunglasses. Or had something terrible happen to them where he didn’t have to raise a hand, because that would make more sense.

His Bentley was his. Crowley never bothered having too much. Just mementos of certain things that didn’t see the light of day. But his Bentley he would show off.

The silent sports car.

How did she catch his eye? Who wouldn’t she have caught the eye of?

And he could tell that sometimes Aziraphale was jealous.

Not envious. He didn’t want the Bentley. Aziraphale wasn’t the type to drive, he was the type to be driven. Crowley was fine with that. Aziraphale didn’t want the Bentley to be his. He just didn’t want to share Crowley with her as often, so it seemed. Unless Aziraphale was the passenger.

How to tell someone that there wasn’t competition? They were two very¬†different beings. Crowley wasn’t about to share a bottle of wine with the Bentley and he wasn’t about to drive Aziraphale. Or something like that.*

Though somehow he could do both of the opposite things.

“You shouldn’t drink while driving dear,” Aziraphale said, nursing his own bottle.

“Fuck it.” There was no bite in his words. Crowley was simply scratching two itches at once. Getting to drive and getting his angel to not be a bitch about it by keep him inebriated. Crowley didn’t like it when Aziraphale was drunk on his own though, so this solved that one too. Three stones and one bird. Or something like that.

Was there a direction to go in? Not really. Sometimes Crowley just wanted to drive. Aziraphale would want to walk around, see the things, talk to the people. But right now Aziraphale stared out the window, watching the lights go by. Not complaining about the speed as he might at another time.

Crowley realized he had slowed down. Pulled off near a bridge and looked out. There was a sunset. Not something he would usually stare at, but Aziraphale brightened up at the sight. If he said something about “God’s creation” in regards to it though, Crowley might push him out of the car and leave him there.

Somehow Aziraphale left the car anyway. Crowley reluctantly followed, but while Aziraphale leaned against the bridge’s railing and stared out at the sky, a demon looked back at his car and stared at how the dimming light reflected off her.


Aziraphale didn’t say anything else. When Crowley glanced back, he realized Azirphale’s attention had turned to him.


“You,” Aziraphale responded with a smile.

Crowley grumbled and pretended to look at the sunset. As he relaxed and took it in, he looked back at his Bentley. Then at Aziraphale, who didn’t seem to mind at all.

It was a good thing people weren’t seeing this. If they only saw this moment, they would think he was making the whole “jealousy” thing up.

*Aziraphale might say that Crowley could drive him up the wall at times, but Crowley wouldn’t agree.

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