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[rosemaryhelenxo]

Alice In Wonderland Afternoon Tea at Bartley Lodge, New Forest | Review - Press Event

“If you’re a fan of Alice in Wonderland and enjoy indulging in a traditional British afternoon tea, then Bartley Lodge in the beautiful New Forest is the perfect place for you!“ With an invitation extended to attend the Mad Hatter’s tea party, this Alice in Wonderland themed afternoon tea will transport you to a whimsical world of delicious treats and charming décor. I recently had the pleasure…

[justthingstbh]

Synchronise the beat of our hearts

Chapter 1: The smell of Carnations

Heaven and Hell had laid off of them and Aziraphale started to get a little bored. Yes, of course, he was extremely happy that it all worked out rather splendidly, but without a job, Eternity could get boring. 

Well, Eternity alone would get boring. But he wasn’t alone. Crowley was always close but never close enough. Not for Aziraphale’s liking anyway. 

They did spend more time together now, dining at the Ritz, seeing one of their friend Will’s plays, there were so many things that occupied their time. 

And one of them came by mail to the bookshop one morning. Aziraphale had been dusting, when the letter fell on to small doormat. 

With a few quick strides, Aziraphale was at the door and picked up the envelope. He didn’t often get mail, not since telephones and smart phones had been invented. Before that, he had gotten an abundance of letters, mostly from authors that he had befriended, some poets, some playwrights and, even though he would never tell anyone this, some lovers. He used to keep them all, stuffed away in boxes, organised by year and person. That all changed with the invention of texting. Letters had gotten almost obsolete, except for banks and advertisers.

This letter didn’t look like one from a bank though. The paper was thick, cream white and ordained with small black flowers in the bottom right corner, just under the address. 

As he let his eyes glimpse over the address, his brow furrowed in confusion. 

To A & A. Crowley

Whoever this was from obviously thought that they lived together. If Aziraphale had for a few moments just relished in the idea that someone on this earth thought they might live together, might even be a couple or married, then he would keep that his little secret. 

He carefully cut open the letter with a letter opener that Crowley had gifted him around two hundred years ago, the thick paper tearing just perfectly against the sharp blade. The blade set aside, he pulled out the sturdy cardstock. 

It was the same cream colour and on it, in black shimmering letters, adorned with beautifully drawn black roses stood the following: 

Together with their parents and all their ancestors

Anathema Device 

And 

Newton Pulsifer 

Request the pleasure of the company of Aziraphale and Anthony Crowley to celebrate their marriage at Bartley Lodge Hotel, Lyndhurst Rd, Cadman, Southampton. SO40 2NR, UK on Saturday, the 25th of August 2020 at 1:30 pm. 

The reception will also be held at the Bartley Lodge Hotel. Accommodations are available. 

R.S.V.P by the 30th of May 2020.

Aziraphale’s entire face was painted in such a soft expression after reading the invitation that nothing could ever be compared to it. This soft expression fell from his face when he saw a small letter that still remained in the envelope. 

He pulled it out and this was different than the thick, proper cardstock that he was just handling. It was a normal piece of paper, on it words in soft handwriting that definitely belonged to Anathema. 

Read on Ao3

Hello you two! 

I hope we don’t catch you off guard with this but we have a small request. In my family, there has been a tradition for multiple hundreds of years. On your wedding day, you dance the normal couple dance, but when the chorus starts playing, eight people join you on the dance floor. These people are to be considered the most important people in your life. And well, we both decided that not only did you two stop the literal Apocalypse with us, but we have also grown very fond of you over the last year. Therefore, we wanted to ask, if you may join us on the dance- 

That was when Aziraphale dropped the letter, ran over to the telephone and dialled Crowley’s number without even thinking about it. He didn’t have to wait long until the demon drawled a sleepy “Morning Angel,” into the phone that was almost immediately cut off by Aziraphale saying: 

“Morning, my dear. Get to the bookshop at once, will you? Something happened. We need to talk about it. Now, Pip pip.”

With that he hung up, leaving a perfectly confused demon standing in his boxers at his desk, holding his landline in his hand. 

Crowley was dressed in seconds, Aziraphale had sounded worried over the phone and to be perfectly honest, Crowley was just a tad terrified. What if heaven had come back? What if Aziraphale could feel that something had changed in heaven? What if they were looking for them?

So Crowley grabbed his glasses and ran down to his Bentley, getting in and arriving at the bookshop precisely 7 minutes and 45 seconds later. Way quicker than it should have been possible, not with following the traffic laws at least. 

He threw the bookshop door open, prepared for the absolute worst, only to find the sun shining in through the windows, showing the small pieces of dust flying in the air. The sun hitting the angel from behind, illuminating his entire presence with an almost heavenly glow. 

He looked beautiful, Crowley thought. Something he would never admit to in front of Aziraphale of course. 

“Angel? What’s wrong?” 

That was when the other man turned to look at Crowley, a soft smile painting itself on his face. “Crowley, dear. Well, maybe you should read it for yourself.” He smiled out, walking over to Crowley, handing him the ornate invitation and the letter, walking back to his desk after he did so, bending over to write down something on a piece of paper. 

As Crowley's eyes flickered over the invitation his lips curled up slightly. He had never been invited to a wedding before, well never one that he could actually go to, due to most of them being in churches. 

He sat the invitation down and started reading the letter, his lips slowly losing the upwards curl. He also didn’t finish reading the letter, putting it down even earlier than Aziraphale.

For a short second, he didn’t say anything, until his mouth suddenly let out a small: “But I can’t dance.” 

Aziraphale turned to him slightly. “I can’t either, dear. Except when they let me dance the Gavotte, but I think that is rather against Anathema’s taste.” He turned back to the small paper on his desk. 

“Also, I picked chicken for you on their RSVP, I know you’re not a big fan of fish.”

“Thank you, Angel.” He mumbled absentmindedly. He didn’t even like to eat, but if he did, it was never fish. He just hated their texture. He thought while sitting down on a small chair that fit Aziraphale’s interior design but hadn’t been there a few seconds ago. 

“And we are one of their most important people?” Crowley asked, a little dumbfounded.

“Seems to be the case.” 

“And they think we are married and you took my last name, that is actually just my first name?” he whispered just loud enough for Aziraphale to hear. 

The angel turned red at the comment, not looking up from the letter he was writing. 

“I suppose so.” 

“Huh.” 

Aziraphale signed off the letter with an extravagant signature, letting the fountain pen roll out of his hand carefully after he capped it. “I just wrote our reply, explaining that we sadly can’t take them up on the offer, due to our sheer incompetence when it comes to the art of dancing.” 

Crowley scoffed and with a small snap of his finger, the letter was in his hands. His delicate fingers ripping it in half, while Aziraphale just stared at him, mouth agape and brows raised. 

“I’m not letting you tell those two that even though we had more time on this earth than anyone else we don’t know how to dance.” He moved over and sat down on the desk. “Also they sounded quite excited to have us in that tradition and we shouldn’t break their heart, right angel?” 

Of course, this wasn’t the reason why Crowley decided to rip the letter. Yes, some of it came with his pride, thinking that if they knew that he couldn’t dance he wouldn’t hear the end of it. Mostly though, it came from the idea of holding Aziraphale close to him, only them in a moment, accompanied by music, expressing everything that Crowley was too dumb to say. He imagined being twirled around by Aziraphale, their feet moving in perfect synchronisation, working together to accomplish perfect harmony. Something that was basically already their entire friendship. 

He would never know that Aziraphale thought of the same things when he said: “Well I suppose we can’t let them down, poor Anathema would hate us and I don’t want to get on her bad side.”

Crowley’s lips turned up, his eyebrows arching just a little, as he stuck out his hand towards the angel. “May I tempt you to learn how to dance with me, angel?” 

Aziraphale almost let out a soft snort at that. His eyes growing soft, his smile changing from careless to fond. If his eyes quickly slipped to look at Crowley’s lips as he took his hand to shake it, nobody would tell. 

“Temptation accomplished.” 

------

Dancing was hard. That was Aziraphale’s first thought when they showed up to their first dance lesson. They had chosen to learn a Waltz, mostly due to the fact that in all the marriages that Aziraphale had attended over the years, (and he had attended a lot, comes with being a creature of love after all), it was the one that was normally sought after when people asked for couple dances. 

The second thought that crowded Aziraphale's mind was that he wished they were learning the gavotte or anything else that didn’t force him to be this close to Crowley. Holding his hand in his, while his own hand settled on the small of Crowley’s back. It was too much. 

But it wasn’t just the physical contact, it was how Crowley understood the steps easily, moving with him gracefully, while Aziraphale stepped on the others toes more times than he could count.

This was inherently too much for him to handle, so when the dance instructor came over and adjusted their positions he was inherently grateful for her bickering. 

She moved their hands carefully, turning their heads. “You two keep staring at each other, that’s not what you do in a Waltz.” She called over the other instructor and they showed the two that their backs were supposed to be straight, Aziraphale’s hand wasn’t supposed to be on the small of Crowley’s back, but on his shoulder blade and that they should keep a bigger distance between their bodies. “A waltz is all about looking majestic. It’s not about the romantic appeal of holding your partner close to you, but more about the sheer beauty and elegance that moves you over the dance floor. Now, try again.”

With their positions adjusted, Aziraphale could actually get through the step patterns without stepping on Crowley’s feet, his eyes always trained behind Crowley instead of his eyes, that were obstructed by the sunglasses. It helped, to actually be handled around by their instructor. Otherwise, Aziraphale might have never been able to stop staring at Crowley while they danced and that just made dancing hard in a very different way. 

After that, they learned quickly, after about a month they managed to almost glide over the dance floor. Only now and again moving too fast or too slow for one another. 

It was after a rather good lesson that their instructor, Madame Seyleit came over to them. A proud smile on her face. “You two learn quickly, I’m honestly quite proud of you.” 

Madame Seyleit was a pretty short woman, but just from looking at her, you could tell that she had the muscles to beat up people twice her size. She carried herself with such grace and purpose that no matter where she was, she looked like she belonged. It looked like she was the one in charge. 

Crowley bowed his head at her compliment, actually flattered by her words. “Thank you very much, we try our best, don’t we, Angel?” 

As his head moved to the side to look at Aziraphale, who was smiling proudly and nodding along, he missed the way that Madame Seyliet smiled as she saw the two. 

“I’m rather glad that you are doing so well, and I-” she looked onto the floor for a second, clearing her throat. “I have a small favour to ask of you.” 

When both of them just smiled at her with expectancy in their eyes, she continued. “You see, we have an annual show, presenting what you can learn in our dance lessons and the two people we had for the Waltz can’t make it, because Catherine got pregnant. So I wanted to ask you two if you would mind learning a choreography and presenting it at the show next month?” 

Her smile was careful, fragile. It was the smile of a woman begging these basically strangers to help her with something so important to her that they would probably never understand. 

Before Aziraphale could even think about it, Crowley had already accepted. “Of course we can help.”

As they talked Aziraphale took to looking at Crowley’s face. Looking at the demon that was nice and kind, but would never admit it. The demon that would help out this woman that they barely knew, just because he knew that is what Aziraphale would want to do. 

Crowley was the only person, the only being that knew Aziraphale for what he really was. And Aziraphale was the only person that got to see the good that poured out of Crowley in waves so strong that even dams wouldn’t be able to contain it. 

“So, that seems like private lessons to me?” Crowley inquired. 

“Yes, you two would be taking over their Choreography to At Last by Etta James. It’s a wonderful one and you two would be perfect for it.”

And so, the two agreed. Not knowing what they were getting into. 

-------

“Keep your head higher, Crowley.” Madame Seyleit cut in from the side and if Crowley didn’t have as much respect for the woman as he did, he would have left hours ago. Having Aziraphale guide him across the dance floor was also definitely a pro to the staying department. 

They had been practising for around two hours and if Crowley said that it was coming together easily, he would have been lying to himself. 

It wasn’t even the steps that were confusing or the choreography in general. It was the pure and utter irony that finally, after all these years, he had Aziraphale in his arms. Closer than they had ever really been before and this woman, this woman who thought that they were both humans. Not just humans, no she thought they were married. This woman had the audacity to play Etta James’ “At last” while they danced and every time Crowley let himself listen to the lyrics, he had the feeling he would combust. 

“Crowley!” came from the sidelines again, interrupting his thoughts and making him stumble over his own feet. 

“Shit,” he hissed out as he fell backwards, but before he could fall, Aziraphale caught him in a soft embrace. 

“No need to worry, I got you,” the angel smiled out as he pulled Crowley upright. 

Crowley’s face was slowly adjusting its colour to match his hair, seeing the tender smile on the angels face. That tender smile that Crowley so desperately wanted to kiss. So before he could do anything stupid, he pulled away. Thanking the angel for catching him, before he turned to Madame Seyleit. 

“Yes? You had a note?” he asked carefully. He wanted to do right by her, right by his angel. He just wanted to not fuck up, once in his life.

“Yes, dear. Your posture.” She smiled and walked over, putting a hand on the small of his back, guiding him back towards Aziraphale. 

She took the angels hands and placed them on Crowley, before pulling them off again. “Actually Aziraphale, would you be a dear and grab us some bottles of water from the front? You two must be horribly thirsty.” 

Aziraphale quickly nodded and made his exit and as soon as the door was closed Madame Seyleit looked back to Crowley. 

“Dear are you alright?” her voice was softer than it was when she barked orders at them. It was gentle, it was the kind of voice that you would use to speak to a baby bird. 

When he didn’t answer, she continued. “See, your posture, for some reason you are carrying yourself differently today. Normally you carry yourself, knowing that the whole world looks at you, and normally it looks as if that makes you the happiest person alive, so what is wrong today?” 

She moved closer to him and he turned his gaze to the floor.  “See you can’t even look at me and normally you don’t have a problem with that either. Did something happen between you two?” 

Crowley shook his head with a soft smile. “No, nothing happened.” 

“Then what is it?” 

“You see,” he started, looking up and over her shoulder. “Even if the whole world is looking at me, it doesn’t matter.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because he isn’t looking.” 

“Oh Crowley, dear.” She put her hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “If you think he isn’t looking, then you aren’t paying attention.”

After that, Crowley’s posture never slacked again. 

------

Nervous wasn’t even a word for how Aziraphale felt. Maybe anxious would fit better to his current situation, or maybe tense. Whatever the best word for it was, it felt bad. Very bad. 

It didn’t help that the person that normally helped him through his anxiousness wasn’t here. Crowley was somewhere on the other side of the stage, hiding in the darkness beyond the bright stage lights. But he was there, somewhere. Aziraphale could feel him, feel the demonic presence that surrounded Crowley every second. He could smell the slightest hint of what one could describe as a burnt-out campfire. His presence was present in the smallest corners of Aziraphale’s mind, calming him in a way no human ever could. 

He watched the couple before perform a gorgeous salsa. They twisted and turned on the dancefloor in motions too quick for his brain to even comprehend, two people so in sync, that not even an earthquake could bring them out of their step routine. 

He prayed to everything that he ever held holy that Crowley and he wouldn’t fuck this up. They had practised too long and too hard for it to now go wrong. 

Just as he straightened his lapels the song of the previous couple ended, both of them shimmering with sweat but smiling from ear to ear. They had done a remarkable job, the angel let himself think before the anxiety kicked back in. It was their turn now, their turn to show what Madame Seyleit had been trying to teach them for two months. 

He took one final deep breath and walked to his starting position. He didn’t dare look over towards Crowley, he would only freak himself out more. 

So when Madame Seyleit walked onto the stage and announced them, his heart fell down, out of his body and onto the stage. Only metaphorically of course, just because he didn’t need a heart, didn’t mean he had to be impolite. 

The violins started playing and Aziraphale’s body moved on instinct, his feet carrying him over the stage just like the thousands of times before. 

And oh, he was lucky that his body knew what to do because when he saw Crowley his brain stopped working. 

The demon before him, who was mirroring his actions perfectly was wearing a deep black dress. It was tight around his upper body but spread out downward. The edges of the dress were a deep red, a perfect match to Crowley's hair, that he had miracled long for their performance. His curls falling over his shoulders and framing his face.

His beautiful eyes were obstructed by his usual glasses, which was the only thing that was so normal and familiar about the demon, that it calmed Aziraphale's mind immediately. 

He twirled Crowley in, catching the demons other hand in his and he couldn’t stop himself before he whispered a soft. “You look stunning.” into the demon's ear before he twirled him out again. 

At last

Their bodies moved on instinct, their muscles so used to the routine that they barely had anything to do with it. It felt almost like breathing, so natural, so normal. 

This close to Crowley, the presence in the angel's brain tuned out everything else. His entire mind was filled with the smell of smouldering embers, with the power that was hidden underneath that lean human body. 

But it wasn’t just fire that he could smell on Crowley. Crowley hadn’t smelt like a normal demon for years. His scent was interrupted by the smell of something, that Aziraphale couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

My love has come along

He sent Crowley to twirl twice, before catching his hand and pulling him back to him in a fluid motion. That was when the smell hit him again and then he remembered it. 

He remembered how it had been all over him in 1892. He remembered the floral scent that reminded him of cloves, the scent that was almost a spicy floral. Carnations. Crowley smelt like carnations. He probably had smelt of carnations for centuries, but it was the first time that Aziraphale was close enough, perceptive enough to actually realise it. The first time he let himself realise it.

My lonely days are over

At the line they separated again, Aziraphale letting go of Crowley’s hand and moving beside him as the demon turned once, twice and then once more. 

As Aziraphale walked beside Crowley, the scent wasn’t as strong and his entire body was begging to have him back in his arms. To have that scent fill his nostrils. 

Was this how Crowley felt? Aziraphale moving, his motivations twisting and turning every century, breaking so many rules but not the one that he needed him to break? 

Before he could follow that thought further, Crowley was back in his arms. The carnations in his nose and the fire in his brain. 

And life is like a song

They twirled around faster, moving in perfect synch. At that moment, Aziraphale was happy that their dance required them to look away from one another, because at the words, those words by Etta James that he had heard a thousand times, he finally understood. 

He finally understood all the love songs. Of course, he knew that Crowley loved him, he could feel it, smell it, scent it. He was a being of love after all, but did Crowley know? 

Did he know how much Aziraphale loved him back? Did he understand that with every perfect harmony in every cheesy love song, Aziraphale’s mind filled with that campfire scent and the scent that he only now really pinpointed. 

Did Crowley understand that he didn’t save this world for the humans, but only for him? Did he understand that stopping the apocalypse had been an entirely selfish act on his part? Did he realise that Aziraphale only went against heaven because he didn’t want to have to fight the demon that he slowly had been falling in love with for thousands of years? 

At last the skies above are blue

But were they? Where their clouds finally gone? Could Crowley see clearly? 

Had he ever seen the truth? 

He let go of Crowley’s hand, both of them, moving carefully, moving their arms in small wave-like motions before their hands found each other again. 

My heart was wrapped up clover the night I looked at you

Their hands found each other, just like they had. Hundreds of times, over the span of six thousand years and then, suddenly thousands of times over the span of eleven years. They had grown so much closer. They had bled into each other, they always had. 

Crowley bringing out the demon in Aziraphale and Aziraphale bringing out the angel in Crowley. 

I found a dream that I could speak to

Wasn’t that just what Crowley was to him? The angel asked himself, stealing a glance at the demon in his arms, the red hair reflecting the lights. The copper in it almost blinding the angel. 

But that wasn’t the only blinding thing about Crowley. The most breathtaking, the most blinding was the soft, careless smile that the demon was wearing. He looked at peace. 

Aziraphale couldn’t remember the last time that Crowley had looked to carefree. So vulnerable. 

It hit him at that moment, Crowley was everything he had ever wanted. He was his dream come true. His dream that he could speak to. 

A dream that I can call my own

The angel's smile faltered slightly. That was the problem, wasn’t it? He didn’t know if he could call Crowley his. They had never talked about it. Aziraphale had never really considered talking about it before. 

I found a thrill to press my cheek to

Aziraphale’s motion stayed the same, but they had turned sad, had turned confused. The smell of carnations was still plaguing his mind. Holding him close, keeping his mind from wandering to anything other than the demon that he loved. 

A thrill I've never known

Aziraphale turned Crowley into his arms again, swaying from side to side until the demon let himself fall, Aziraphale holding him and spinning them carefully. 

You smiled, you smiled oh and then the spell was cast

Aziraphale tried to remember, tried to pinpoint when he first smelled the carnations. They had a distinct smell, so it didn’t take him long to remember. 

The wall. Eden. The smell had been faint back then, a single flower beginning to blossom, but it was there. It had always been there. 

And here we are in Heaven

Aziraphale guided Crowley back onto his feet, and for the first time, since they started to dance, he met his eyes. He could see the faint yellow glow behind the glasses. 

And as he left a soft smile curve his lips, the smell of carnations became the only thing that he could smell. 

It brought back memories, ancient Greece, the Virgin Mary, and most recently Oscar Wilde. 

It was the smell of undying love. 

For you are mine at last

He twirled Crowley one last time. Regretting that the dance was over so quickly. 

But as the crowd applauded and Crowley took his hand to bow and then guide him off stage, the smell of carnations stayed. Faint, but there. 

It had always been there. 

Wherever Crowley was, the smell was close behind. A constant companion. 

A companion that Aziraphale had begun to love. 

And he wasn’t talking about the flowers. 

But he could never tell his demon. He couldn’t risk losing him. He couldn’t risk losing his dream. So he kept quiet, enjoying the carnations in silence. 

Knowing what they meant, but being too afraid to actually confirm his suspicion. By all means, the smell could be coming from him. Did Crowley even know what Carnations mean? 

Had he ever worn a green one in his buttonhole? Or was this all wishful thinking on the angels part? 

He would never know unless he asked, but sometimes living in uncertainty, was better than living with pain.

Only because you know someone loves you, doesn’t mean they love you in the same sense as you loved them. What if Crowley loved him in a different sense? 

That’s what the Greeks had been going on about right? Different kinds of love. What if Aziraphale had fallen, in such a different sense, that he didn’t notice that Crowley had only stumbled? 

No, he would rather be in pain, being able to be close to his demon, than potentially messing this up. 

He could deal with an eternity of pining, he couldn’t deal with an eternity without Crowley.