Chapter Text
Crowley stood in front of the one and only nightclub in Los Angeles that was owned by the Devil himself, the Old Scratch, Satan, et cetera, et cetera— well, in short, by the most annoying King of Hell ever, his older brother, Lucifer.
And of course, it wasn’t like Crowley went around telling every random person he met that yes, sure, he wasn’t just a lowly demon, oh no, not even the Serpent of Eden, who the hell even remembered that, but yeah, well, did he also mention being a fallen archangel?
Raphael, to be exact?
Yeah. Yeah, no wonder he kept his damn mouth shut about it.
And no wonder he didn’t want to meet Lucifer here on Earth – or anywhere else, really – but he needed to know. He needed to know what his plans were. Because, Antichrist, seriously? Lucifer wanted to get someone pregnant and end the world itself? What about his fucking nightclub? Crowley’s whole fucking life on Earth? Fucking balls on him.
At least Angel— Aziraphale wasn’t here, since it could get dangerous pretty quickly. Brothers or not, Lucifer was still his Boss. #1 Worst Boss in the world, but Boss nonetheless.
Still, God was gone. Crowley had no idea how or… how even, but Aziraphale had come bearing the news that since God was gone, both Archangels Gabriel and Michael decided to take matters into their own hands. Meaning – contacting Hell and deciding it was time for The Ineffable War and the end of the word. And handing him (really, why did it have to be him?) a baby!
A big no in his books, that it was. So, he needed to have some words with Lucifer, first. Out of all his brothers, Lucifer was probably the last one to try and smite him on sight.
So – into the club he went, yellow eyes squinting behind the sunglasses.
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“Whoo!” Lucifer lifted his glass in a toast. Brittanys were giggling as they gathered around him, obviously already pretty drunk on their drinks. Unfortunately – for him, not for Chloe, if someone were to ask her - the Detective had a movie night with the Spawn today. Ever since Lucifer had returned from the alternate universe of those two stubborn hunters and his angelic brother, he was making sure that he wouldn’t be alone even for a single hour. It didn’t mean sex – oh no, the Detective and him had had The Talk and now he was very, very monogamous – but it was about enjoying the company of other people.
About it and… not letting himself think too much.
He was getting pretty good at it, too! If he said so himself, that is. Chloe and Amenadiel both kept sneaking those worried, bloody annoying glances at him every now and then, and… Ah. How dared they.
After his twentieth shot of vodka or so, Lucifer finally noticed a new person in the nightclub. And no, it wasn’t to say that he always noticed bloody everyone that came in to have fun, but… seriously, what special kind of asshole would wear sunglasses not only indoors, but in a nightclub?!
“Hey! Heeeello, you!” Lucifer waved at the asshole – maybe the wave was not as dignified as he’d like to think so – but it did what it was supposed to do. Made the asshole turn away from the bar and pay attention.
It caused Lucifer to pay attention as well, even through the drunken fog clouding his brain.
“Bloody hell, no,” he breathed out, brown eyes going impossibly wide. “Crawly! Absolutely not!”
The aforementioned Serpent of Eden made his way through the crowd – and through the Brittanys, pushing them apart unceremoniously – to Satan himself. Who, at the moment, weirdly resembled a deer caught in the headlights.
It made Crowley’s eyebrows climb very, very high up his forehead. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that Lucifer looked scared of him. But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it?
“Boss.” Crowley swayed on his feet as he nodded in greeting. “Long time no see.”
“Crawly!” It was almost joyful. Almost. “Can’t it stay that way? Also, I’m quite in a hurry, so if you forgive me…”
Yeah. Definitely something shady was going on. And since Lucifer was apparently short on time...
“Alrighty, let me get straight to the point,” Crowley never had a great self-preservation instinct, and moreover, he was a bloody idiot now, apparently. A suicidal one at that, too. “Did you get someone pregnant, oh my Lord?”
Lucifer just blinked at him instead of just saying yes or no. His messy, matted hair was falling in his eyes as he looked around, still holding the glass in his hand. Probably searching for hidden cameras, or something.
“Is this a joke, or...?”
“No, it’s quite a serious question. Stop dicking around. Literally.” Crowley hissed at him, taking a step forward. To his genuine surprise, Lucifer took a step back at the same time. “You’re the King of Hell, are you not? They had to consult you first since it’s going to be your fucking Antichrist, Boss,” he almost spat. “Take some responsibility, Lucifer.”
No, Lucifer thought, half-panicking, no, no, no, no, no. It wasn’t possible, alright? It couldn’t be happening.
“First of all, Crawly, look who’s talking.” He held up his hand, trying so so hard to stay calm. He wasn’t really succeeding, though. “Se—”
“It’s Crowley now,” the demon interrupted him suddenly.
“What?”
“Crowley. It’s Crowley, not Crawly. I’ve changed it. Wanted to spice things up a little.”
“Honestly, I can’t keep track of every time you abruptly decide to change your name, darling.” Lucifer clenched his jaw, his voice dropping just a bit lower, just a bit more dangerous. “And watch your tone, please, I’m still your King. I won’t tolerate this.”
Crowley smiled tightly as he kept swaying back and forward, but then he stopped.
“Sure you won’t.” His another step forward, Lucifer’s another step back. Almost as if they were dancing. “Darling.”
“Don’t you dare—“ Lucifer started, his eyes turning red for a brief second to remind Crowley of his place, only to be interrupted by the demon catching his wrist and squeezing it painfully.
“Shut it,” he hissed again, this time much more urgently. “The world is going to end because of you and your baby, the archangels are coming, demons in Hell are working with them to start a war, the War, and you can’t shut up about your bloody ego for a moment!?”
Before Lucifer could answer that – either with throwing Crowley across the dance floor, people be damned, or with just turning around, going to pack his things and moving the hell out of Los Angeles, because… not… not another apocalypse, please – all the lights went out.
And, to make things even worse, both Lucifer and Crowley sensed the presence of another angel at the same moment. Not that it was too hard, because the archangel Michael – Lucifer’s Michael, but it still made Lucifer freeze – stood before them with a smile that was more of a way to calm them down than a real thing.
“I couldn’t help but overhear a part of your conversation. Lucifer. Crowley.” Michael kept smiling even as he talked. It looked… unnatural. “And I just wanted to say, don’t bother. It has already begun.”