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Gumball of Death

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Crowley could barely stifle the snicker as Pit fell off the stage yet again, another of the lives graying out in the corner of the screen. A quiet, but deep breath was drawn in by the actual angel beside him, a small pause, and Pit was jumping into the arena making a careening beeline to the edge once more. There were some vailant attempts at fighting back before Pit fell without so much as a half hearted flap of his wings to right his trajectory. Now the snicker could not be tampered down, and Crowley cast his gaze to the side. If Aziraphale had heard it, he did not react. Instead, a haughty huff parted his lips and his controller was promptly sat down with a not inconsiderate amount of force behind it.

With a roll of his neck Crowley got ready to get up and make his husband a cup of cocoa as was the custom for a mildly distressed Aziraphale when the angel in question roughly pushed up his shirt sleeves to his elbows and grabbed the controller as though it should have been a flaming sword, determination making those bright etheral eyes show their more rare color of hardened steel. Crowley had to swallow the 'Ngk' forming in his throat. If he had more shame he would probably have felt more embarrassed that the sight of pale forearms nearly gave him the same vapors as a victorian ankle, but as all things concerning his angel he did not mind his pride taking a backseat to enjoying the view. In his distraction, he did not notice the "Game Over" that played across the screen in Pit's final tumble.

It was the near growled, "Bollocks." that lifted his brow and had his head swiveling to his celestial counterpart.

"You alright there?" The smile could not be kept out of his voice, and these days he did not try. Another huff, of exasperation this time, and fingers tugging on a well loved waistcoat was the unspoken answer.

"I swear to the Almighty! Why do I continue falling to my death?!" Putting his hand to his forehead, Crowley laughed in fond amusement.

"Because you keep walking right off the edge angel!" The look Aziraphale shot Crowley should not have been able to be as stern as it managed to be coming from someone who was clad in fluffy pink bunny slippers, yet that was a specialty of this particular Principality.

"Well how do I stop then Crowley?! Enlighten me won't you? Really my dear! This game is utterly impossible. I have been trying for two days now! Two! Now matter what strategies I employ, off the edge I go!" A sniff. "Perhaps I should simply not participate." Aziraphale's eyebrows were furrowed, his frustration dusting his cheeks.

"Aw, come on Aziraphale. We don't want to be the ones to tell the Them that there'll be an odd number for the tournament do we? Wensleydale made a chart and full tournament tree and everything. Gotta give the kid credit for trying to organize what will surely be chaos." Though he generally craved a healthy dose of mischief and mayhem, even he had to cede to some of friendship breaking scenarios this particular game was able to bring about. Rather not have the Anti-Christ, former or no, go down the path of righteous fury that lead to a controller through the televison thank you very much.

"No, no of course not. I simply don't know what I'm doing wrong. I've even tried different characters hoping that they would have enough of a different skill set to keep me on the platform at least. Off they pop! Over and over again." Aziraphale leaned on his knee, chin in hand as Pit kicked his sandal at the ground on the screen in defeat. Putting the arm that was behind them on the sofa securely around his husband's shoulder, Crowley gave a soft chuckle in amusement.

"Discouraged isn't a good look on you angel." The pout, the almost automatic puppy dog eyes, the small bit of vulnerability that shone through, it wasn't a good look. It was one that made Crowley want to curl the angel in his wings and fix whatever tiny ailment befell him. It was a downright adorable look is what it was. Not that he would admit that of course. An idea flicked in Crowley's mind, and once there could not be banished. He felt a small shiver go down his spine. Dare he suggest it? Looking down at the head now resting on his shoulder he decided he did dare.

"Alright. Try one more character for me." A dubious eyebrow was raised in reply. "Just trust me, this one will work."

"Well alright then dear, which one is it then?"

"See that one there? The little pink one? That's it."

"The one that resembles a gumball? Truly Crowley, how will that win a battle? He doesn't even have a proper weapon, or any weapon for heaven's sake!" Crowley snorted.

"Nah, full arsenal that one. Here, I'll show you." Crowley picked up the other controller that he had long since abandoned after the first day of this debacle.

The game was loaded, two charcaters facing off resembling each other quite a bit but for the dark attire and menacing air of one across from the downright innocent countenace of the other bouncing on feet too small for the round body. The battle was on.

"Remember those buttons I showed you? The special and the charged attacks?" Crowley readied himself. He knew this was it.

"Yes dear, now what's so special about this character?"

"Walk towards me, and use that attack, no no. The other one." There was a sharp gasp from the angel as his character gulped up Crowley's and held it in bulging cheeks. The demon snickered. "Now swallow. The down button."

"Well now! That is something!" The round pink character now held a sword of his own, his appearance changing slightly to better match Crowley's.

"That's not the best bit. Don't mind what I'm doing, just keep hitting that button repeatedly when you fall off the platform." Aziraphale whipped his head to face his demon, a glare in full force.

"And how will pushing me off help with my problem of falling over exactly?" His tone was low, that steel of comptetition returning to his eyes.

"Easy, falling over the edge isn't your problem. Just try it yeah?" A moment of staring passed before Aziraphale simply moved his character closer to Crowley's in acquiescence. "Now, I'm going to do a series of attacks. It will take most of your health and you will go over the edge. Just hit that button over and over ok?"

"Very well. Let's try it." Crowley's small knight was ruthless, a battery of attacks repeatedly raising the damage percentage until the inevitable launch from the platform was triggered when it was high enough.

"Now!" Crowley shouted with all the enthusiasm of a commanding officer ordering his troops to fire. Aziraphale complied, smashing the button with enough force that a controller not owned by supernatural entities would have crumpled, and his character began... Floating.

"Wait, I'm not out? How-" Those small feet landed on the platform once more. Crowley simply grinned.

"Again." They did the same maneuver, and yet again the small pink character made his way back onto the battle field, the damage percentage astronomically high in the corner and yet Aziraphale was still in the fight.

"Angel, allow me to introduce you to Kirby. A.K.A. the gumball of death." Aziraphale gaped at the screen, his mouth a small 'o' of delighted surprise. Then, without warning it was Crowley taking a barage of attacks. Time and time again Kirby was knocked off the platform only to return with a vengenace with the battlecry of 'plip, plip, plip' to announce his next charge. The round was ultimately ended in a draw. Both characters being knocked back with too many hits for the game to allow them their trick. Crowley set his controller down and looked to his husband who was now beaming.

"That was rather fun! Now I can see why people enjoy this game." Crowley barked a laugh.

"So it's fun when you're not just plummeting to your doom?"

"Yes, actually. There was an actual tit for tat! I really misjudged such a delightful little fellow. He is rather good in a scrap." Warmth bloomed in Crowley's chest as he leaned closer to his angel.

"Mhmm. He doesn't happen to remind you of anyone, does he?" Aziraphale gave him a playful shove only to pull him back by catching his hand.

"Oh hush you. Don't think I didn't notice that you picked the dashing, brooding version of mine." Crowley gave a grin he wouldn't deny as being sly.

"Not a clue what you mean angel." Blue eyes crinkled in the corners as the small exasperated yet infinitely fond smile he adored so much was aimed at him. Crowley cleared his throat hoping to hide the blush that was attempting to creep up his sharp cheekbones.

"Well my dear, what do you say to a bit of tag teaming hm? I know we are already teamed up, what do you say to your dashing rouge on the front dealing the damage and I will come behind and be a bit of a nuisance?"

"Playing a little dirty then are we?" Crowley's lips were already pulling into a besotted grin.

"It's not playing dirty." Aziraphale straightened his spine and gave a proprietary tug at his bowtie. "It's strategy love." A mischievous light had come to his angel's eyes, the specific upturn of lips in a rather honed smirk turning the default beatific face into what he lovingly called 'the bastard look'. Paired with a small wiggle of excitement and the defeat from earlier now that of a stoic, stubborn determination Crowley was powerless to deny him anything in that moment.

"Let's give 'em hell angel. Come on, let's get some NPC's in here and we can practice our 'strategy' before the big game."

"Right! Let's lick some butts!"

"For the last time Aziraphale! It's kick! Kick butts!"

*Voice of God*
It was later, after a night of intense virtual battle that a victor would be named. It was declared among a chrous of groaning children, an exasperated witch, a rather bemused former witchfinder Private, a bored yet proud witchfiner Sergeant, a gaping demon, and a primly put out angel. After all, Madame Tracy used to do more on Thursday nights than entertain gentlemen, and that burly Bowser had a lovely color of hair.