#aziraphale gets kidnapped by a prince of hell who is also crowley's ex

[evilasiangenius]

“Aziraphale!” The distress and anguish in Crowley’s voice startled him, and then a split second later the world seemed to flutter and fold before him and-

Darkness. Aziraphale realized his eyes were closed and he opened them.

“That’s...odd, I’ve never been unconscious before? Have I been unconscious before?” The answer to that, Aziraphale thought, was that he had only been willingly unconscious before with Crowley and that sleep was a totally different thing. The angel sat up, and then looked around. He had been propped up in a very comfortable armchair, and covered with a blanket, up to his neck.

“Well, that seems very thoughtful,” Aziraphale murmured to himself. “This is already a much nicer kidnapping than I would have expected from a kidnapping. I suppose this has been the nicest one ever.” Rubbing his head at the memory of being whacked unconscious by a Duke of Hell, Aziraphale looked around.

The room was dark, but for the glow of city lights coming in from the window, and it was hard to tell where he was; he could have been in any number of major cities, anywhere in the world where it was still night. Wherever this was, it looked like the inside of a hotel room, and a very nice one at that. The white paneled walls limned with gold leaf, the windows draped with plush pale blue curtains the color of a robin’s egg, the furniture modern and yet graceful in a way that seemed to hint at rococo, with a particular quality that suggested that if they were not in Paris, the designer surely was trying to make it feel as though they were in Paris.

Nervously, he pushed off the blanket – and it was very nice, but had been made in a modern factory, and the scent of an unobtrusive industrial detergent made it clear that there was nothing infernal nor celestial about it. Wherever he was, he had had time enough to warm up beneath it; the air outside the blanket was cool. From long practice his hands began to straighten his clothes, starting with his bow tie and moving down over his waistcoat. For a moment he panicked, wondering where his most favorite coat had gone and then he remembered hanging it up in the bookshop.

A moment later, the lamps began to click on, filling the room with a bright golden glow.

“I’m surprised that you look rather shabby in these modern times. Crowley was never one to be fond of shabby things.” A deep rich voice, wry with amusement, and Aziraphale twisted around in the armchair to see the form of a tall man, golden hair cropped into a stylish, rakish cut, dressed in all black.

The black suit looked quite expensive, of some rich fabric beautifully tailored to the man’s body, showing off the narrow waist and the broad shoulders, the slim hips and long limbs. The black shirt was open a button or two beyond decency, and Aziraphale caught an intriguing glimpse of a firm muscled chest beneath the sleek black fabric.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I am not acquainted with you. Have we met before?” Aziraphale asked, getting up onto his feet with practiced politeness, a little confused as to why he was here. He knew this was a demon and a powerful one; he knew he should be afraid and that he was in danger. Perhaps it was the brief period of unconsciousness or the fact that there was no point of reference for this person at all, but he felt strangely calm and at ease.

“How is that possible?” Asmodeus looked genuinely surprised. “You truly don’t remember me?”

“No? Am I supposed to? I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

“And here I thought I would have made a stronger impression. We have met before, more than once.”

“I’m afraid I don’t recall,” Aziraphale said, endeavoring to be civil. Asmodeus looked at him with a skeptical, suspicious curiosity, but then his expression changed.

“Then let me introduce myself and reacquaint you,” Asmodeus smiled, and if Aziraphale didn’t know any better, there was something particularly self-satisfied about that smile. “Asmodeus, a Prince of Hell, Lord of the Serpents, Demon of Lust…”

“Oh dear.” Aziraphale managed a polite, nervous smile. “That’s troubling. I didn’t know you were a Prince of Hell.”

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