Chapter Text
Nobody would be surprised if Aziraphale was overdressed for any occasion. In truth, she never paid much mind to it, regardless of where she was.
That said, when everybody else was basically nude, it was hard not to agree.
And the nudity wasn’t a figure of speech.
With a dozen or so excuses and at least three near slips on long-forgotten robes and unmentionable fluids, Aziraphale skittered out of the densely packed wing of the mansion. The silk curtains closed behind her. Gold-covered pillars served as a rest while she gathered her breath. Even now that she was still, she could feel the beads of sweat making their way down her back and legs underneath her heavy robes. The whole mansion was too warm for comfort, as was the humid weather as of late, but the hall where the night’s ‘activities’ were being held felt like a sauna thanks to the body heat of the enjoyers.
Oh, she wouldn’t deny being one for indulgence. She didn’t need much tempting for food or luxury, but that sort of temptation, all the writhing and moving, always seemed so exhausting .
Aziraphale slid over the freshly-cleaned marble floor to the nearest seat, her white robes trailing after her, the gold embroidery glittering under the flickering lights. A chaise with a high back awaited her. After tonight, she figured all her efforts warranted a rest. She mused to herself about her duty, the reason she was here, as she strode over to sit on one of the plush red seats. By all accounts it seemed to be the only one available.
Once she rounded it, she noticed that it was most definitely occupied. Its tenant was splayed out ungracefully on the chair with an empty jeweled goblet clutched in her hand, still stained with the remnants of honeyed wine. Aziraphale’s eyes remained on the goblet a little too long, admittedly, as she wondered where she could fetch herself some. She turned to look at the occupant. The lady, herself, was clad in blackest silk, with silver jewelry tastefully spread on her, chains emphasizing her slim figure. Long, svelte legs were draped over the side, scandalously bare in any other situation. Aziraphale finally met the woman’s eyes once she looked up.
Rather, she met her dark glasses.
Those were new.
“Crowley, dear!” The name slipped out of the angel’s mouth a little too happily, a little too loudly. The demon scrunched up her face, glaring at her intruder. Who would interrupt a drunk at a Roman party?
Soon enough, her expressive eyebrows lifted in recognition. A flutter of a smile spread on her face. “I was wondering who would call me that in Rome.” The demon sighed, allowing herself a long, languid stretch before pulling her freckled legs up, giving enough space for Aziraphale to sit with her. Once the angel had comfortably settled herself on her seat, though, Crowley stretched cattishly again, far too graceful while drunk, setting her long legs on Aziraphale’s thighs. The demon sighed with relief, but looked amused at Aziraphale’s utter shock and disapproval, cackling.
“Oh, what will the others say?” Aziraphale sputtered indignantly, but Crowley just gave one of her Cheshire smiles, running a sharpened nail over the edge of the empty goblet, gesturing to a servant.
“Please. Don’t you think there’s worse going on in the other room?” Crowley stretched when the handsome servant reached them, lazily grabbing the goblet without a care like she always did, handing over her empty one. “Thank you. Now, would you give my friend the leftover goblet?”
Aziraphale balked, but Crowley grinned at her companion. “Don’t tell me that you don’t want it, I know you.”
There was no hesitation. The angel took the offered wine with a scoff — she couldn’t just deny some gifted wine, after all — and earnestly thanked the servant before he shuffled away. She cozied up further, resting her free arm on Crowley’s leg while taking the first sip. It was always the best one. She felt the bitter and sweet dance on her tongue, the warmth spreading from her belly to the very tips of her fingers. The Romans truly did perfect wine, she thought as she smacked her lips. She glanced at Crowley, who had been watching her indulgently through her dark-tinted glasses. Aziraphale helped herself to study the demon’s features, eyes trailing over her sharp brows and long neck. The demon’s hair was out of place, which was unusual for her perpetually groomed friend. Stray curls framed her high cheekbones. She looked rather fetching, too, with the red on her cheeks and nose - the blush that alcohol supplied.
Aziraphale was the one to tease, for once. “I see you’ve been having fun.” She smiled, giggling before she downed more of her wine. The demon snorted.
“Not in the way you’d think here.” Crowley waved her hand, leaning her head back on the pillow. “I’m at work, technically.”
“Mm! Me as well,” Aziraphale chirped, leaning closer to Crowley. She glanced around, her eyes on the servant that had tended to them. He must have been new, because he was too close, too obvious at his spying. They both waved at him, and the servant nodded, finally leaving. The angel continued, “The walls have ears, though.”
Crowley nodded and reached over, placing her hand on the angel’s shoulder — for she was a touchy drunk. Aziraphale stared into the demon’s glasses, sure that what brought warmth to her stomach was the wine finally settling down. Opaque as they were, the angel could see hints of the demon’s serpentine eyes, flecks of gold that couldn’t be muted. Close as they were, they must have seemed, perhaps, a little too intimate, as suddenly a refined, regal voice rang in their direction.
“Ladies, the festivities are in the other room.”
Both angel and demon glanced up. Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel a rattle of nerves in her stomach.
“Agrippina, you can be sure nothing untoward is happening here.” Crowley purred as she pulled away from Aziraphale. She pointedly refused to move her legs off the angel’s lap, though. The speaker walked up to them, clad in pearls and gold roped around her neck and wrists, a brilliantly purple dress draped against her slender figure. Here was Agrippina the Younger, empress of Rome, The rings on her fingers glistened as she moved to cover her mouth, laughing. Her beauty was remarkable, yes, but she carried herself with such poise, such confidence, that Aziraphale could understand, then, why Claudius had chosen her as his bride.
“Oh, I am not worried in the least, dear Antonia.” Agrippina chuckled elegantly, turning her smile to Aziraphale. “Acilia here could rival the Vestals in her chastity. Knowing her, she only came here for the meals, hm? If anybody were to resist your wiles, it’d be her.”
Aziraphale felt her cheeks heat up at the comment. Agrippina rested her hand on her hip. “I wasn’t aware you two were acquainted.” She rubbed her chin, bracelets jingling with her every move. “Although — both your husbands had been stationed in Britain.”
“Yes, our late husbands were comrades. Rest their souls.” Crowley sniffed dramatically, raising her cup. If you didn’t know better, she would seem every part the mourning widow, if she hadn’t continued speaking. “I’m sure they’d be delighted to know we ran into each other here, of all places.”
Crowley cackled as Agrippina laughed. Aziraphale smiled politely, fluttering her lashes demurely. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure how to react. She wasn’t sure what made it funny. In her over four thousand year old life, though, she had learned that it’s better to pretend you do know, however.
“Ah, I wish I could stay and chat, but I must play the hostess.” Agrippina bowed, “It’s been a great pleasure. Enjoy your stay.” With that, she walked off, robes trailing behind her as she strolled. Both of them watched the young Augusta leave with a sigh. They both looked at each other.
“Nervous? I always thought you liked to mingle with the upper crust.” Crowley took a long sip of her wine. Aziraphale groaned and, shockingly, slouched.
“I’m meant to have her guide little Nero towards the light. I was looking for her earlier, actually.” Aziraphale grumbled, her grip on her goblet tightening. “She’s quite stubborn.”
“No shit.” Crowley scoffed, accidentally spilling some wine on the cup’s side. She reached over and licked it clean, Aziraphale unsure why she felt her cheeks flush again. The demon didn’t notice, thankfully, and rolled her eyes as she spoke. “I’m meant to give her some ‘tough love’ tips in order to make him worse. Not that he needs much help in that,” She mocked. “She’s stubborn as a mule. Guess what she told me.”
“Since you’re not a mother, you wouldn’t know what you’re talking about?”
“Guessing she was equally as charming to you.”
“Yes, and all I did was suggest giving him music lessons or something of the light to make him more— more appreciative of softness.”
“Eh. I do appreciate her bluntness, to be fair.” The demon downed the rest of her wine. Aziraphale went to do the same, but found her goblet empty already. The demon continued, “You know, she’s clever, hosting this. Keep your friends close and enemies closer and all that. How much blackmail material do you think she’ll get?”
“Oh,” Aziraphale blubbered, “Quite a bit, I imagine.”
They both stayed silent, glancing at the rest of the room. Other women like them dotted the room, speaking in hushed whispers and giggles. Surely they wished to show their faces at the Augusta’s banquet, but most definitely not participate in the rest it entailed. Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel a warmth regarding them. Navigating this world was difficult enough, but this levity was needed. The companionship was needed.
“You know, angel—“
Aziraphale snapped her head over at the demon, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t say that too loud in Rome. You could have us both discorporated.”
Crowley waved her hand. “Right. Amelia—”
“Acilia.”
“Satan below, they all sound the same— All the -lias, and the -inas, and don’t get me started on the -iuses.” Crowley took off her glasses, rubbing her nose. With her hair pulled back, her eyes made her look all the more striking. Aziraphale always liked them. They were quickly hidden again, sadly. “What I’m trying to say, Acilia— Agrippina’s meant to be tempted by us both, right?”
“I’d rather refer to my work as guiding them, but do go on.”
“Let’s say that— that by some miracle, she did listen to both of us. She— she gets the kid an asshole music teacher.”
“Mhm?”
“Wouldn’t we be right back where we started?”
Aziraphale paused.
Crowley was… right. Crowley was right, like she always tended to be.
“And Nero would remain unchanged—” Aziraphale murmured.
Crowley nodded. “And that, there, is the issue. So, my point is—” And point she did with the empty goblet. “Why bother? Let’s just enjoy tonight and think about things later.”
Aziraphale huffed, pushing Crowley’s legs off her thighs. Crowley whined, but it finally made her sit up, looking insistently at Aziraphale, waiting for an answer. Aziraphale hated the idea of being told what to do by a demon, but it was true.
“You know—” Aziraphale pouted, crossing her arms. “This almost makes me not want to invite you to the oyster table.”
“As if I couldn’t have any pick of oyster in there,” Crowley slurred, slowly standing up and pointing at the other room. The demon definitely seemed to be feeling the hold of the wine now. “Mm. Much rather yours, though.”
Aziraphale stood up and grinned, grabbing Crowley by the arm. She looked like she could use all the help she could get. “Silly, the oyster table isn’t there— it’s by the fountain. Come!”