Sommer – Grillparty – fürs Team

[cornchrunchie.livejournal.com]

Team: Nixe
Challenge: Sommer – Grillparty – fürs Team
Sprache: Englisch
Fandom: Good Omens
Charaktere: Crowley, Maggie, Nina, Ms. Brimble (OC)
A/N: Snippet zu einem bisher unveröffentlichten WIP von mir, dementsprechend ohne viel Anfang, Ende oder Exposition :D

When Crowley arrived at his house, he was confronted with a row of cars standing next to the pavement, blocking his usual parking spot. What the–? After a moment of annoyed confusion, he then spotted a bunch of balloons hanging off their garden gate, and groaned. He'd forgotten about Ms. Smith's birthday party–however that had been possible, seeing as she'd been practially apologizing non-stop over the last few days for any noise or smell or essentially any inconvenience her barbecue in the garden might cause. Crowley, thankfully, was insensible to most noises and the last to complain about the smell of a well-grilled steak. He was, however, immensely bothered by several cars too big for their own good clogging the parking space for his Bentley. Damn it! Today really wasn't his day.

Wearily, he drove further down the street until he found a place for his Bentley to spend the night – I'm sorry, I will be back in the morning, promise – and made his way back to the house. It was a house like any in Tadfield: red bricks, two storeys, and so much ivy climbing up the outer walls that they would probably need to renovate the whole thing in a few years or the plant would rip it apart. Crowley didn't mind; he had always admired ivy for its strength and its uncompromisable will to live, even if it meant that he needed to trim it regularly for any ray of sunshine to ever reach their rooms again.

Crowley had also become used to his unusual living situation. After his parents had had to sell their house and left Tadfield for good, Crowley had needed a place to stay. The couple who sublet his apartment – Maggie and Nina, two women in their late sixties, one an emotional cotton ball and the other more of a snarky cat – had renovated their attic floor and given it up for rent, much cheaper than anything else at the time. It wasn't exactly roomy but it was enough for Crowley's already sparse furniture. The couple and he shared an entrance, but his often changing work hours made sure that they wouldn’t get into each other’s way too often. Overall, it wasn’t too bad, really – they sometimes invited him over for eccles cakes and tea (which Crowley suspected was mostly Maggie’s idea) or for exchanging stories and getting unbelievably sloshed (which was definitely Nina’s idea). From time to time, Crowley brought around some leftovers from work, much to the delight of both of them.

The main reason he had signed the contract, though, was the garden that came with it. A vast, untouched space, a rare find even for Tadfield standards, that Maggie and Nina left him to handle as he liked. And handle it he did: Over the last years, the green land had been replanted by Crowley with vegetables and fruits of various size and form. There were zucchinis and eggplants, carrots and paprika, tomatoes, cucumbers and squash, to name just a few of them. In the back, Crowley harvested apples and cherries, plums and pears. Each year, the garden seemed to flourish a little more – most of the plants were eager to please him, probably because they were too scared to get replanted in another place that wouldn't cherish their fruits of the season to come, and the reliable weather conditions of Tadfield did the rest. He was considerably proud of all of it. For a long time, this – a garden of his own – had been the only dream in Crowley's life, and he had made it come true.

The nearer he got to the house, the louder the voices from the garden became. There was joyful chatter from what must have been at least 15 people, collective laughter and the clattering sound of plates and cutlery, all of which was embedded in the light of the setting sun and the few twinkling fairy lights Maggie had hung between the bushes and trees. The air smelled like warm summer grass, grilled vegetables and well-seasoned steaks. It was exactly the kind of summer evening you would wish for when throwing a birthday party in your garden.

On every other day, Crowley would've made sure not to draw any attention to himself as he opened the front door and sneak up the stairs into the safe anonymity of his room. Today, however –

It had been an exhausting day, with all the interview stuff going on and Mr. 'I came from the 18th century just to make sure you're cutting the carrots the correct way' looking over his shoulder. Not to mention the oppressive feeling the literal mansion of Heaven On Earth transpired through every wall. So, Crowley decided, as he walked around the corner to their gate, he might as well take Maggie's birthday invitation as his last chance to spend an evening among largely pleasant people before he'd probably have to work overtime for seven days straight, with – well. Less pleasant company. He knew Maggie's and Nina's friends – they were inconspicuous but could drink Crowley under the table if they wanted to. So, exactly what he needed.

"Mr. Crowley!" Maggie exclaimed in her usual tone of delight as he made his way to the grande table that was set up between the house and his greenhouse. After all the years, and even though Nina had never bothered with any formalities at all, Maggie still insisted on calling him Mister, like the gentlemen he is, quote unquote.

"Happy birthday," Crowley said, pulling her into a friendly hug. "Another year and still as vibrant as a bunch of flowers."

"Oh, stop it, you!" She blushed and waved in the direction of the party society. "Please, have a seat. Are you hungry? You should try this year's pasta salad by Nina. I keep telling her it's the best one yet, but she's refusing to believe me."

"And I keep telling her that she's too doting to judge this." Nina was already fetching a chair for Crowley to sit on.

"As if I weren't capable of both", Maggie said confidently.

Crowley and Nina exchanged an amused look before Crowley took on the chair and turned it backwards to sit down next to a familiar head of hair.

"Ma'am." He tapped his fingers into thin air as if he wore a hat.

"Anthony!" Ms. Brimble's face lit up as their eyes met. "I was just swooning over your garden to dear Beatrice here. Tell me, are the raspberries still acting up?"

Ms. Ariana Brimble was an old friend of Nina who had realized a few years ago that she was, in fact, a massive lesbian. Since then, she had: gotten a divorce, left her old job, moved to her own apartment (which she called her 'sapphic suite'), kissed various women and adopted two cats. Naturally, Crowley was positively obsessed with her.

"Well, I'm doing my best to keep them in their place."

"You do what you do best, my dear. Oh, you must have had a long day at work! Let's get you something proper to drink, shall we?"

And just like that, what was left of the evening went by. The drink Ms. Brimble handed over to him was sweet at first with a sour finish and strong enough to make Crowley bitch about his day without giving away too many details. In return, he took great pleasure in gossiping about Ms. Brimble's recent love affairs and Mrs. Zanetti's upcoming wedding to the ex-husband of her longtime dentist (it all sounded rather complicated). Nina's pasta was as marvellous as always, definitely her best one yet, though Crowley knew better than to tell her that. They drank, they sang, they danced, and when Crowley crashed down onto his bed late at night, he realized that he hadn't thought about Heaven On Earth for hours.

Seconds later, he was already asleep, without even having changed his clothes.

Comments

[cricri-72.livejournal.com]

Ohhhhh, sehr vielversprechend! Gefällt mir <3

Ich mag sehr, wie Du Nina und Maggie eingebaut hast, und Ms, Brimble ist klasse. Da lese ich gerne mehr!

[cornchrunchie.livejournal.com]

Dankeschön, das freut mich sehr! <3