#ineffablehusbandsauweek

[meli-productions]

Pine and Needles

My contribution for Ineffable Husbands AU Week 2020 by @ineffablehusbandsweek

I am so excited to share it. Also on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26563960

If it were a choice between taking a double-decker into the midst of London or accompanying his best friend into the tattoo parlor, Crowley would’ve put up with the annoying Americans. But his annoying American begged and pleaded until he gave up and promised to go with her to get her newest tattoo.

“It won’t even take long,” Anathema said, pulling Crowley through the crowds. “You’re not far from home and I brought headphones so you won’t even hear anything.”

Crowley gave a little huff, “Fine. Let’s get this over with. The sooner you get ink into your body, the sooner I can get the hell out.”

Anathema chuckled, “Considering the bad-boy aura you try to present, it’s funny that you get so freaked out about a little thing like a tattoo needle.”

“Oi, those things’re freaky,” said Crowley. “They buzz like they’re an insect trying to get into your skin.”

That just made Anathema’s laughter louder as they entered the little shop. 

At the counter stood a man that looked like he should be working  anywhere other than a tattoo parlor. He fixed the crooked pair of glasses higher on his nose as the pair approached the desk and shot them a shaky smile. 

“Erm, afternoon,” the man - the nametag declared him to be a Newt - said. “Welcome to Guardian’s Gate - are you both set up for an appointment?”

Anathema leaned against the counter, “Nope, just me handsome. Anathema Device. I’ve got the 1:45 with …” 

“Aziraphale,” said Newt, blushing. “Gotcha. He should be out in a minute to get you. You can have a seat and I’ll - I’ll let him know you’re hot - I mean, here. I - oh, okay, I’ll just go get him.”

Crowley laughed into his hand as the man slipped away, red-faced and fussing with his already disheveled hair, “‘Nathema, look what you did to the poor lizard.”

She shrugged and led him to the waiting area, “And what about it? He’s cute.”

“Doesn’t look like he belongs in a tattoo shop, that’s for sure,” he said, pushing his sunglasses to the apex of his nose. “But if he’s your type, I guess I won’t judge too hard.”

Anathema glared at him, “First of all, if you’d read the reviews of this place you’d have seen that no one that works here looks like they’d work at a tattoo parlor. Second - you’re always judging, you snake. But something tells me that I’m gonna have the last laugh today.”

“Oh? Did the tarot tell you something?”

She gave a non-committed hum and turned towards where Newt had just exited, tracking him like a hawk and handed her purse over to Crowley, “Here. The headphones are in there and I put a CD player with some Queen in there.”

Crowley grumbled something about being old-fashioned as he dug around the large bag for the device. He heard a voice clearing above his head and a soft voice that called out Anathema’s name, but summoned him as well.

Standing before them, like an angel descended, was a plump man with hands folded against his stomach. He was dressed in khaki pants and a white button up that was rolled up to his elbows which revealed two sleeves of tattoos that highlighted the soft, yet strong muscles there. Crowley’s mouth was agape as he followed the crisp white shirt up towards the bowtie and then to the halo of messy curls on the man’s head.

“Hello, dear, I’m Aziraphale. And you must be Anathema,” he said, reaching out a hand to shake the woman’s. “It’s a pleasure.”

Anathema, smug as a cat with cream, turned to Crowley before shaking Aziraphale’s hand, “Pleasure’s mine. This is my friend, Anthony Crowley, he’s just here to keep me company today.” 

Aziraphale turned his smile at the stunned man, hand outstretched and taking the limp extension that Crowley provided, “Hello, Anthony. You must be an exceptional friend to be here for her. Oh, what a lovely snake.”

He reached towards the little black sigil of a snake that curled near Crowley’s ear and gave it a little stroke that sent shivers down his body.

“Ngk, thanks.”

Smile never faltering, Aziraphale turned back to his client and waved her towards his room, talking specifics about her design as Crowley watched him go, eyes flickering from halo to back, to plush rear. 

Oh, fuck.

Crowley had been trying to focus on the Best of Queen CD that was playing in his ears and keeping him distracted from the low buzz of the tattoo gun nearby, but all he could think about was the absolute vision he’d seen earlier.

His skin still burned where the slightly calloused thumb had swept over his teenage error. Twelve years later, it finally was worth fainting and almost puking all over the tattoo artist’s shoes. He’d already googled Aziraphale’s name and meaning - of course it was an angel - and all of his artwork, taking a moment to devour every crinkle of his eyes, the tight pull of shirt around his biceps, and the pretty, shining eyes on the one picture of his on the web.

A hard shove against his shoulder broke the spell that the screen had cast. He glanced up to see Anathema, smirk still in full-effect as she tilted her head towards the counter where Newt and Aziraphale were speaking.

“Come on, el amor de tu vida awaits.”

Crowley scoffed, but jumped to his feet, shoving the headphones and player into Anathema’s purse before giving it over. 

“Amor de mi vida mi culo ardiente,” said Crowley. “Whatever your cards said, it’s not true.”

Anathema laughed, “They haven’t been wrong before.”

The two joined the employees at the counter and Crowley stumbled forward when the bright smile turned towards him.

“Newt will help you check out,” he said, “And I do hope you come to see us again. Perhaps you could come for a tattoo next, Anthony.”

Crowley’s heart stuttered, though not exactly because of the man, “Erm, yeah, right. I’ll - I’ll see that I do…I’ll consider it.”

The smile faltered for a minute and Anathema muttered something under her breath before breaking the awkward silence, “What he means is that he hasn’t considered getting another one. Besides, Aziraphale, he should at least get a look at your work first, right?”

Aziraphale’s smile returned full-force, “Oh. Heavens, I didn’t mean to put any pressure on your decision. But I do hope you consider us for the job. It’d be wonderful to create a matching work to that snake.”

“Ahem,” said Crowley. “Of course. I’m sure you’d be able to come up with something amazing.”

The wriggle of delight was enough for Crowley to come up with more compliments to see it again, but Anathema bumped him again, pulling him away from his thoughts.

“Well, it was a pleasure meeting you both. Hope to see you again - soon,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at Newt who ducked his head in embarrassment.

With pleasantries exchanged, Anathema maneuvered Crowley out of the door and, when they were away from the store she tilted her head back and laughed, loud enough to make her American - and Latina - heritage proud.

“Ay, nene, you should’ve seen your face,” she said. “You’re gonna be thinking about him all week.”

A childish pout that was too out of place on his middle-aged face curled on his lips, “No, I’m not. Honestly, ‘Nathema, you should’ve been more worried about your little lizard boy.”

“I was,” she said with a content smile. “I wrote my number on the receipt.”

Despite the denial he gave Anathema, Crowley did find himself thinking about the artist for the next following days. He lived not too far from the shop, and worked even closer, but tried not to think too much about the pretty, sparkling, kaleidoscope eyes or the smile that had been seared into his heart. 

But he’d still find himself falling into a rabbithole of images on social media, trying to find any pictures of Aziraphale among the pictures of his art. The only one he’d found, other than his headshot on the website, made his heart sink at the sight of the beautiful, elegant woman on one arm and the muscular, supermodel man on the other.

Regardless of which one was his date, he was obviously taken by one of the two - if not both.

Rejected, Crowley went back to sweeping the dirt out of the kitchen and nursed his hurting heart. 

Anathema’s call four days afterwards should’ve been a sign, but he didn’t think too much of it.

“What is it now, Anathema? Did the tattoo get infected? Or did you decide that you just need more ink in your skin?”

The woman hissed from the other end of the line, “Oooh, who spilled their soup all over you, querido? And no, it’s all fine. I just need a favor from you.”

Crowley scoffed, “At this point, you’re almost indebted to me.”

“We’ll put it on the tab and I’ll do a free reading for you.”

He rolled his eyes, “What do you need?”

“So, I kinda left my mother’s charm bracelet at the tattoo parlor the other day and I can’t swing by to get it anytime soon. Do you mind picking it up for me?”

Warning bells went off in his head as he pulled the phone away from his ear to frown at it. Anathema never took off that bracelet and she definitely wouldn’t have forgotten it considering the history it held. 

“Why don’t you get lizard boy to bring it to you on your next date?”

She huffed, “Because he hasn’t got a clue and asked me out yet. You wouldn't also be able to get him to realize that, too?”

“That’s two favors, Anathema,” he said. “But I’ll go. When are you coming back into town?”

“Next weekend. Just hold onto it for me until then. Oh! Take some of your petit fours, Aziraphale might’ve mentioned something about liking sweet things,” said Anathema. 

“Bye Anathema.”

“Bye dulzura.”

Despite shutting her down, Crowley packed up a little container of petit fours and fixed his hair before easing down the street. Jitters brought a little bounce up his leg that got worse as he spotted the sign of the shop. 

“You’re a big boy, Anthony,” he mumbled to himself. “Just go in there, harass the lizard, pick up the bracelet and get the hell out of there without making a fool of yourself. Yeah,” his shoulders squared, “you can do this.”

The little bell at the door brought Newt’s head up and he smiled, a large spread that made him look a little more lizard like, “Oh, hey - Anthony, right?”

Crowley nodded, “Tha’s right. My friend, Anathema - you remember, tall, real pretty, was hitting on you?” He stopped for a second to process the red face, “Yeah, well she forgot her bracelet here and sent me to pick it up.”

“R-right,” said Newt, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, I think Aziraphale’s been holding it in his room. You can go right in, he’s not seeing anyone for another hour.”

Heart speeding up, Crowley turned to the open door along the wall. He swallowed against the knot at his throat, “Ah, okay. Oh, lizard - ”

“It’s Newt.”

“ - do us both a favor and call Anathema to ask her on a date. Otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it, yeah?”

Newt’s spluttering punctuated his steps towards Aziraphale’s door and he came to a dead stop when he saw the man lit up from behind by the really great lighting in the room. And before the little sound that crawled up his throat escaped he knocked on the door.

Aziraphale turned around, tiny reading glasses askew on his nose and he lit up when he noticed who was at the door, “Anthony, dearest, I’m so sorry I didn’t hear you. Come in, please. Anathema told me to expect you.”

Crowley came in on wobbly legs and sat in the chair that Aziraphale gestured him towards. It was only after he sat down that he noticed it was the tattooing chair and his face paled. 

“It’s nice to see you dear,” said Aziraphale, spinning around in his chair to fully face him. He slid the glasses off, “I noticed the bracelet almost right away but I felt it was wrong to call her if she’d given the number to dear Newton, not me.”

“Pfft, that boy doesn’t even know what to do with that number,” Crowley said. “I, erm, Anathema mentioned something about you liking sweets so I brought you some - some petit fours from the restaurant.”

If possible, Aziraphale brightened more as he took the container from Crowley, “Thank you, dear. I have been looking forward to this since Anathema said you ran a restaurant. Ah, I should get you her bracelet.”

He handed the bracelet over with one hand as his fingers popped the lid off and he plucked a pastry out.

“I really hope you like it, it’s one of my specialties,” Crowley said and, as he slipped the bracelet into his pocket, almost choking as he heard the delighted moan from the only other person in the room. Behind his glasses, his eyes widened and took in the closed eyes and stretched neck of the artist before him as he savored the pastry. Mouth suddenly dry, Crowley couldn’t tear his eyes away from Aziraphale as the man slowly came to and wiped the flakes off his mouth.

“Oh, Anthony,” he said in a tone that brought heat throughout Crowley’s body. “These are absolutely scrumptious. I should go to your restaurant.”

He’s trying to kill me. Maybe this is hell and I’m just being punished. Crowley thought as he tried to form words, “I’d love that, angel. You can even bring a friend - or a girlfriend - or a boyfriend.”

Aziraphale shot him a look, hazel eyes twinking, “None of that for me, dear. Just a lonely old man, but maybe you would keep me company. I’d love for you to be able to talk to me about your favorite dishes.”

A little part of Crowley’s brain did a little fist pump, “Swing by anytime, I’ll make time - and the special - just for you.”

“Oh,” said Aziraphale, giving a happy wiggle. “And we can talk about a new design for a tattoo while we’re at it - if you’re still interested, that is.”

Crowley’s heart plummeted, “R-right. Well, I should get back to the restaurant. Swing by when you have the chance and we’ll - we’ll chat. Tell Newt to give Anathema a call.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll see you soon.”

For the next few weeks, Crowley would stop by with something sweet for Aziraphale, threaten Newt to call Anathema and put him out of his misery, and then skedaddle before the artist could pin him down to talk about his hypothetical next tattoo.

That is, until he walked out of the kitchen and saw an angel sitting in a booth, smiling towards the kitchen doors as if expecting him.

“Ngk, angel. I wasn’t expecting you,” he said, brushing his hair back and trying to make it presentable. “Did you - did you enjoy your meal?”

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale answered. “Just waiting for dessert and another glass of wine. Everything was delectable, darling. Please, sit, join me.”

“I don’t usually make a habit of sitting with the diners,” Crowley said, a smile teasing his lips. “But how can I refuse such great company? Wait here. I’ll get us a wine even better than whatever it was you were having.”

When he returned with the fanciest bottle of wine in the restaurant - one that he’d refused to even mention on the carte - he found Aziraphale humming around a bite of raspberry cheesecake and had to take a breath to steady himself before taking a seat.

“Good?”

Aziraphale’s eyelashes fluttered as he came back to, “Heavenly.”

Crowley muttered something along the lines of ‘not as heavenly as you’ before popping open the wine and pouring them both a generous amount, “Drink up. I’ve been waiting for the right type of connoisseur to open this one up.”

He noticed the blush that dipped down Aziraphale’s face and towards the buttoned up collar and wanted nothing more than to follow it further, instead he chose to lift his gaze back up to the sparkling eyes and toast.

“To angelic friends visiting out of nowhere.”

“To gorgeous serpents and their delicious food,” replied Aziraphale. After a sip, he gave a thoughtful hum before pulling a sketchbook up from beside him. “Come. I have a few sketches to show you. Ideas I’ve thought of for your next work.”

Oh. Crowley’s heart plummeted. That’s right. He only puts up with you because you’re a potential client.

Aziraphale showed him sketches of snakes wrapped around flowers, one with ebony wings, and then a solitary pair of wings, little sketches of his favorite flowers - gloxinias - and a few more of constellations. A little furrow formed between his eyebrows as he realized - 

“You have at least one for each of my favorite things,” he said, then raised his gaze to meet the now flustered artist. “You - you’ve been paying attention.”

“Honestly, my dear, did you think I wouldn’t?” asked Aziraphale, fingers twirling the ring on his pinky. “Everything about you is so fascinating - I just wanted to be able to spend some time with you and - oh, I’m an embarrassing old man. All you wanted was to get a tattoo and I went ahead and - ” 

“I don’t want a tattoo,” Crowley interrupted, his turn to blush when Aziraphale’s eyes turned to him. “I’m afraid of needles. This one,” he pointed to the snake, “was my first and last. Never again. I just - I didn’t want you to send me away.”

A soft hand landed over his and he followed it to Aziraphale’s soft smile, “Never, dear. I love spending time with you - wouldn’t mind spending more.”

Crowley returned the smile, “You just want me for my cooking.”

An affirmative hum escaped from Aziraphale, but the thumb rubbing over his hand said otherwise, “Perhaps. But maybe next time you cook for me it can be…a date?”

If possible, Crowley’s smile widened, “How’s your weekend looking?”

“Nothing I can’t reschedule.”

“Then it’s a date.”

“It’s a date.”

[mizgirl100880]

This is going to be a thread for @ineffablehusbandsweek’s #IneffableHusbandsAUWeek starting with Day 1 (prompts to choose from were coffeeshop AU or tattoo parlor AU)

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/26448460

Wattpad: my.w.tt/XvVF0bi2V9

[meli-productions]

Biblically Known

Despite the name, there is no smut...though things do get heated. Day Four of #ineffablehusbandsauweek for @ineffablehusbandsweek​

As always, it can be read on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26620054

The soft clicking of heels from behind brought Aziraphale’s attention away from the exhibit and towards the intruder. At the sight of the approaching woman, a smile split his face.

“Antoniette! How lovely to see you again,” he said, meeting her in the middle of the room. “What brings you around this time? Biblical or modern?”

The woman, tall and looming over him with her stilettos, smiled and pulled off her glasses, “Um, I think that this time it’s Biblical - something about a garden?”

Aziraphale hesitated, taking a moment to study the  woman’s gold eyes that shifted under his scrutiny, then his faltered smile returned to full power, “Of course, darling. Was it the Garden of Eden or the Hanging Gardens?”

She snapped, “That’s the one. Hanging Gardens, sounds like fun - I have a garden too so it seemed like a good report to do.”

“Then come along,” said Aziraphale, holding out his arm for her to take. “I have just the resources you need.”

The two spoke amicably as they wandered the halls of the museum - a sight to behold: the plump curator that dressed like a character off The Mummy movies and the femme fatale of a Bond film. They had met one evening when Antoniette Crowley had arrived at the museum with a notebook in hand and bumped into the curator - Aziraphale Fell - in a very literal sense. 

Aziraphale had fussed over the woman, making sure she was okay before asking if there was anything she needed - that he would love to help her as the new curator of the museum. And for her part, Antoniette had blinked up at him for a few minutes, blushed, and asked if he knew anything about the Dead Sea Scrolls. 

When Aziraphale beamed and dragged her down the halls, a new friendship was struck - and a promise of continuing friendship stemmed from their conversation and jaunt through history. So when he sees Antoniette in the museum, Aziraphale knows that he’s in for a good time and a wonderful conversation about history.

“So these Hanging Gardens - they were destroyed, too, huh?” asked Antoniette, looking at the mock up that had been prepared in its little corner of the museum. “Just like the tower, just like Eden itself.”

“Unfortunately,” Aziraphale responded with a sigh. “Pity. One of the wonders they said. It’s a shame to lose something so vivid. Was there anything specific you needed to know about it?”

Antoniette perched her elbow on Aziraphale’s shoulder, “Anything you’ve got for me, angel. I’ll pick and choose the information.”

With the go-ahead of a full professorial lecture, Aziraphale launched into a story head tilted up towards the honey-gold eyes that were watching him with rapt attention.

“How’d the lie go today?”

Antoniette looked down and met the smirk of her partner, Beatrice, with a sharp smile of her own.

“It went perfectly fine, thanks for asking. He doesn’t suspect a thing and I got to hear him mourn the Hanging Gardens of Babylon for almost an hour…we had lunch afterwards.”

Beatrice snickered, “Then got off on those little sounds of his?”

“Shut it, Bea.”

But they continued, “He’s gonna find out one of these days - gonna slip or he’s gonna say something historically inaccurate and you won’t be able to help yourself. One way or another, Toni, your anthropologist smartass will show.” 

She just shook her head, curls flying wild, “Absolutely not. He’s too smart to say something wrong. Besides, I’m not hurting anyone. I just - I just want to get to know him and if he knew who I really was - ”

“He’d fall harder for you?” asked Bea, eyebrow raised questioningly.

“No, he’d get weird - weird academic boner like that hothead Lucius,” said Antoniette. “I don’t want this to end. And I’ll tell him the truth.”

Bea laughed again, “After you two get married? Or when the director finally spots you and calls your bluff - that you’ve been acting like an ignoramus around your own fucking exhibit.”

Antoniette’s face turned as red as her hair, “We have very insightful conversations, Bea. I don’t act like I’m stupid - just not like Professor Crowley, that’s for sure.”

A roll of bright blue eyes met her own, “Whatever, Toni. But if you don’t tell him soon, it’s gonna come out somehow. You’ll see.”

She sighed, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

A steaming mug of tea thumped down at Aziraphale’s side bringing his head up towards the hand attached to the handle. 

“Ana,” he said, slipping off the glasses hanging on the edge of his nose. “Thank you, dear. It’s just what I needed.”

“What you needed was a break from that book. I know your job is to appraise and reconstruct, but you’ve been on that for three hours.”

“Has it really been that long?”

Ana - Anathema - huffed, “Yes, you workaholic. Honestly, when Toni swings by those are the best days because it gets you away from those damned books.”

He tisked, “There’s no need to offend them - they’ve done nothing wrong. And yes, I do agree - it is a delight when Antoniette is around.”

Aziraphale took a sip and noticed the red-lipped smirk that his youngest coworker wore from over the rim of the mug. He raised an eyebrow in question which set her off in giggles.

“Are you ever gonna tell her that you know she’s acting dumb?”

Another tisk, “She’s not acting dumb, Anathema. Her conversations are very insightful, it’s just that she’s not sharing just how smart she is with me. And no. That’s for her to tell me when the time is right. After all, there must be a reason.”

Anathema scoffed, “Yeah, the reason is that she likes you and thinks that if you can’t help her you won’t be interested in being around her. You know what would encourage her to tell the truth,” she paused for him to question her, “ask her out on a date. An actual date, not those ‘well, since we’re at it we might as well have lunch’ dates. Ask her to dinner, buy her expensive wine, take her home and - ”

“Anathema,” said Aziraphale, blush dusting his cheeks. “Antoniette is a lady, I will not do anything untoward.”

She smirked, “Never said to do anything untoward. And besides, if anyone’s gonna make a move like that it’s gonna be her - not you. She is sin incarnate, isn’t she?”

He sighed, and rubbed his temples when she started laughing, “I regret ever telling you that. Now, are you going to join me for tea or just laugh at my misfortune? Come, tell me about your latest project.”

Wednesday night was always a quiet one at the museum - just a few stragglers that would lazily wander up and down the exhibits and when Aziraphale found himself more often than not alone in the ancient artifacts room.

And usually that’s where Antoniette would find him.

This time, though, she was not in her tight pencil skirt and stilettos, but in baggy sweats that disguised her - even her sunglasses were a cheaper pair she’d picked up from a tourist booth on the way in and yet he still recognised her.

“My dearest, are you alright?” he asked, reaching out for her then stopping a breath away from her elbow. “Is there anything you need?”

She was quiet for a moment, and he wished she would fee; comfortable taking off her glasses, but they remained on, “Just - a distraction, angel. Anything you’ve got.”

Aziraphale frowned at the deadened tone, but he gave her a little smile nonetheless, “I think I’ve got just the thing,” he held his arm out, “It’s okay if you don’t want to - ”

Antoniette grabbed onto it like it was a lifeline, “Let’s see what you have, love.”

He kept a quiet drone about the latest visitors to the museum and the field trip of primary grade students that ran amok in the dinosaur exhibit and though she laughed at the right moment and agreed when she needed to, Aziraphale could tell that she was still distracted. 

“Here we go, dearest,” he said and sat her at his desk. “My newest acquisition: the ‘Bugger Alle’ Bible.”

She gave a little gasp and reached out with long fingers before folding her fingers and glancing up at him, “Gloves?”

With a smile, he handed over his pair and though he knew they’d be too short, they would be enough for her to touch the book. Antoniette stroked the spine with a delicate touch and cracked it open with the care of a mother to her child, Aziraphale shivering at her gentleness. 

“This is in top condition,” she said, breathless. “Did you do the restoration?”

“One of my specialties,” answered Aziraphale, leaning in close and using her fingers to follow the stitching. “Took a few hours - three if my coworker is to be believed - but it’s almost in perfect condition to be displayed.”

Antoniette looked up at him again, glasses slipped down enough for her gold eyes to be seen, “Amazing. This is - stunning work. Delicate - strong - I- ”

Aziraphale cupped her face in his hand, “You don’t have to tell me anything, but I have a feeling that you haven’t eaten - I can order some takeout?”

She leaned into the heat now on her cheek, lips brushing his thumb, “Sounds like a plan - Thai?”

“Whatever you want, dear,” he answered, breathless.

A couple of hours later the two of them had made their way out of the chair and sat on the floor of Aziraphale’s office, leaning against his desk as they passed a bottle of wine between them.

“And ‘s not fair,” said Antoniette, pouting. “That just ‘cus he’s a man he gets my project - top n’m. ‘S like I d’nt even exist.”

“Absolutely,” Aziraphale agreed, “Y’re smart and w’rkd hard f’r that - that project - wanker sh’dnt get an’thin.”

Antoniette shot him a wine-drowsy smile, “Y’re not a wanker though - y’re an - an angel. Pretty, s’ft, smart, gorgeous angel. B’t you d’nt want me - y’like books more.”

He huffed and wobbled closer, hand brushing her cheeks, “My books d’nt look like you, th’r not smart and beautif’l and sweet n’ let me talk th’r ear off. Not like you, Antoniette. My dear, m’ so glad you came into my life - best day ‘f m’ life.”

A whimper escaped wine-red lips as Antoniette turned to his hand, eyes closed, and whispered, “I really want to kiss you r’now.”

Aziraphale chuckled using his finger to sweep over her lips, “Me too, but now while we’re drunk.”

Another whimper from Antoniette as he continued his ministrations down to her chin and then to her throat, the warm press of his calloused thumb bringing goosebumps on her skin. Then he pulled away and she met his half-lidded eyes. They both felt a little more sober, a little more sharper.

“If you want - we can have dinner tomorrow - real dinner,” he said. “And we’ll see how it goes.”

She pouted once again, but nodded, “‘S a date.”

Anathema fussed over Aziraphale, fixing his bowtie and coat and running her fingers through his hair before he pulled her hands away and held them tight against his chest.

“Anathema, dear,” he said, eyes crinkled in mirth. “It’ll be fine. I’ve dressed like this every time we’ve been together - mess or not, she doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t a date, Zira,” she said, almost bouncing with joy. “I’m so proud of you, viejito, you’ve got a date with a hot, smart woman and you did that all on your own. Get your woman, mi vida.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but the smile did not waver, “Thank you, Ana, I guess you can say I’m finally an adult.”

A voice clearing behind them made them turn around and were greeted by the sight of a gorgeous, black dress clad Antoniette, red curls pinned to the side. Her smile was tight as her eyes flickered from Anathema to Aziraphale.

“Antoniette, darling,” Aziraphale said, his smile spreading. “Are you ready?”

She nodded, “Of course.”

Anathema pulled out of his grip, “Nice to finally meet you, Antoniette. I’m Anathema, co-worker and babysitter of this old man here.”

The two women shook hands, Antoniette’s smile still tight against her cheeks, before Aziraphale held out his arm for her to take. They bid Anathema their goodbyes and headed out.

“She seems nice,” said Antoniette, fingers tapping against the scratchy fabric of his coat. “Young. Smart.”

“And annoying as nothing else,” Aziraphale said, soothing her fingers with his free hand. “Her Americanisms can be hard to deal with - and her boyfriend has his own hands full with her.”

Antoniette’s fingers stopped as his hand wrapped around them, “Oh. She’s - she’s- ”

“An archeologist, and occultist if you can believe,” he said. “And no one for you to worry about, trust me dearest, you outshine everyone I’ve ever met before.”

She blushed and squeezed his arm, “And you truly are an angel.”

He chuckled in return, “I certainly hope not for long.”

Dinner was a slow-moving affair, Aziraphale savoring every bite and Antoniette enjoying every sound he made, tugging the hem of her dress down her dress as she grew hotter. After dessert and coffee - tea for the curator - Aziraphale offered to move the night to his flat and Antoniette took the offer with an almost embarrassing quickness.

“It’s not much,” he said, opening the door to his flat and ushering her in. 

Books were scattered around, stacked in every corner and packed into bookshelves. There was a cozy messiness about the room that was perfect for him and she smiled at him.

“It’s wonderful, perfect for you,” said Antoniette, curling into the couch. “And the books make so much sense.”

Aziraphale blushed and scratched his neck, “Would you like some wine? I have a nice Burgundy that I’ve been dying to share with the right person.”

“And would that mean me?”

“I think it is.”

“Then pop it open and come join me.”

When he returned with the bottle and glasses, he found Antoniette, glasses off and flipping through the pages of a book. She looked up at him with wide eyes as he handed her a glass and she refused it.

“What’s wrong?”

She closed the book and handed it over, “Interesting choice - have you - did you - ”

The book was a detailed introspection on the Garden of Eden, a book written by Antoniette Crowley, and his eyes crinkled with mirth, “I suspected. I was just honored that you think that I was worth talking to and - you were just as beautiful as you were smart.”

Tossing the book to a side, Antoniette lunged towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck and licking her way into her mouth as he returned the kiss she laid on him. His hands came around her and hoisted her closer, and she moaned against him.

When they pulled apart for air, she laughed as she took in his lipstick covered mouth and he joined her soon after.

“Is it too soon to say that I love you?” she asked, gripping his hair as he began pressing kisses along her neck.

He hummed against her throat, “Only if it’s too soon for me to say that I love you as well.”

Antoniette gave a tug, “I think you brought that wine out too soon,” another moan, “I think I found something tastier.”

“The wine’s waited this long, it can wait longer. Let us indulge in this dessert before turning to the drink.”

She let herself be settled onto his lap as he took a seat, “Sounds tasty.”

[meli-productions]

Angel in the Gallery

Was able to get this one in earlier in the day! My next piece for the #ineffablehusbandsauweek by @ineffablehusbandsweek​. 

Available on my AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26664100

Professor Fell was everyone’s favorite. He was warm and friendly, with a bit of a bastard streak that his older students loved. And he made his subject come alive with his teaching - almost as if he’d been there among the salons of Paris or at Michelangelo's side as he painted the Sistine. 

And the best part of the Professor were his capricious trips to the museums - 

“How can I expect you to learn without being embraced by history and art itself?” he asked his students.

And really, who would argue?

It was a breezy October when Professor Fell decided to sweep his students up for a last-minute outing to the nearest art museum to see the Roman statues. 

The crowd huddled around him for warmth - and he did look the coziest wrapped in his tan cardigan and camel-hair overcoat. There was an inner warmth to the man, too, which the students just wanted to bask in as much as they did in the light of his smile.

“Come around, there’s a love,” he said. “Now, wander around a bit and take notes of what you see: subject, material, style all of it is indicative of something we’ve learned in the past few weeks. And don’t be lazy. I will be sitting in the new exhibit for you to meet up with in an hour.”

He waved them off and, hands clasped behind his back, made his way into the exhibit of the featured artist - one Anthony Crowley.

Professor Fell wandered around, taking in the beautiful contours and almost renaissance-like beauty of the artwork. He hummed happily as he came before a landscape - lush and green - with a snake wrapped around the trunk of a tree.

“Nice, huh,” a voice behind him said. “Heard it’s supposed to be an interpretation of Eden.”

He turned around and came across a handsome, angular face. The only discernible characteristics of the man before him were the wide smile and the red-hair that was tied back at the top letting the rest fall in soft waves around his shoulders. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses that turned to the painting.

“It’s lovely,” said Professor Fell, turning back to the art. “I can tell that the artist really loves what he does - and this medium does him well. The oils really allow for the scenery to reach for its own light. Truly a master in their own right.”

The man gave a little hum, “Is that right? I’d love to hear your opinions on his other work…that is, if you have the time.”

Bright hazel eyes, sparkling with the intensity of his smile, “My dear boy, I have an hour before I’m swarmed by young academics wanting to share their discovery. I would love to take in the exhibit with someone.”

“And what can I call you, angel?”

“Oh, terribly rude of me. My name is Azra, Azra Fell. And you, dear?” asked Professor Fell, looking up at the man through his eyelashes.

“Just call me Tony.” 

As the hour wound down, students started circling around the exhibit where they were told to wait for their professor but not coming in just yet. The first two to arrive and slip in were a mischievous pair that flocked to Fell like chicks to a mother hen - Warlock and Adam - and they were surprised by what they saw. 

While every student knew everything there was to know about the oversharing professor -  from his home in London to the cat he’d had in uni that he’d named Oscar - and were protective about him - defending him from his hardass boss, Dr. Archer - there was one thing that only these two were privy to and more protective of than anything else. And that was Fell’s heart.

So when they found their dear Professor hiding a stream of chuckles behind a hand as he sat - a little too close - next to a stranger, the pair were immediately on high-alert.

“Who’s the twink?” asked Warlock, sliding in close to Adam and stare at the couple keeping their quiet laughter to themselves. “And why is he so close to Professor Fell?”

Adam shrugged, “I don’t know - but I think the professor likes them. And I think the twink likes him back.”

“Well, I don’t like him,” Warlock said, crossing his arms. “He looks like a love ‘em and leave ‘em type. Not good enough for Fell. Could break his heart.”

“There’s only one way to test him. Why don’t we go and find out what his intentions are,” said Adam, his eyes twinking with mischief. “If he can’t handle us hellions then he has no right to Fell. If he can - we can give him a chance, right ‘Lock?”

The other young man grunted his approval and allowed Adam to drag him forward as he rushed over to the blushing professor and his new friend. 

“Hey, prof,” said Adam, plopping down at Fell’s feet. “The exhibit was nice - got a lot of notes for the presentation. Can’t wait to show you what ‘Lock and I got. Who’s your new friend?”

Without waiting for Fell to respond, the man reached a hand out, “Tony, nice to meet you kid. You too,” this he directed at Warlock, “nice kicks, by the way.”

Warlock glanced down to his burgundy Docs and mumbled a thanks, choosing to sit on Professor Fell’s open side rather than the floor. For his part, the professor was alight with joy as he presented the boys to Tony, commenting that these two were his best students and sharing with boys the wonderful time that he and Tony had while looking through the new exhibit. 

“You like art?” Adam asked. 

Tony smiled, “I do. Love it - would make a career out of it. Like having someone to talk about art just as much.”

This was directed at Fell, who blushed once again and gave a wiggle that the boys had only seen him give when eating a good meal. Warlock and Adam shared a look, sharing a silent conversation between eyebrow raises and mouthed out words, then focused on Tony and the dopey smile he was giving their professor. 

It was Warlock that broke the silence with an exaggerated sigh, dropping his forehead against Fell’s soft cardigan, “I’m glad that you found someone to talk to, Professor. Must’ve been nice not to be bored waiting for us.”

A hand came up to smooth the long, black hair as Fell smiled back at Tony and said, “It is when the company is good.”

Tony shifted, bashful, and Adam rolled his eyes, but continued to study the two as Tony cleared his throat, “You know, Azra, I’ve been invited to the public opening of the exhibit - terribly boring, wouldn’t want to come alone - would you like to accompany me? Keep me from dashing my brains out?”

Warlock’s head shot up, looking at Adam with wide eyes and finding that his friend was in a similar state. Between them, Fell fiddled with his ring.

“Oh, I’d love to, dear boy, but - I don’t think I would fit in at such an event,” he said, the light in his face starting to dim. “I’m too - much too - outdated, fuddy-duddy- ”

“That’s not true.”

“You should go.”

“Go, Professor Fell, you’re smarter than the lot of them.”

The boys went up in arms, tugging on his shoulder and hand and trying to convince him to accompany Tony. Fell, surprised, turned from the two boys to Tony who was also a little taken aback if the slight drop of his mouth was to be believed.

Fell smiled, easing the boys off his extremities, “Well, dear. I guess I will be accompanying you after all.”

Tony beamed and the boys around them did, too. 

“Then it’s a date.”

Anthony J. Crowley - Crowley to those he liked - was in a frenzy. 

The minute he’d gotten back to his flat from the museum he’d swept into his studio and started sketching. One sketch turned into two - and then into a dozen - all of soft, Rubenesque round rolls of fat and sparkling eyes. Oils of blue, green, greys, and browns mixed to try and capture the right shade of dancing hazel.

“It has to be perfect,” he muttered, eyes narrowed at the canvas as he fixed the fluffiness of white curls with his fingers. “Perfect like him - an angel in the room.”

Since the moment he sauntered into the exhibit of his own work, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off the only other person in there. The way that the sunlight from above had fallen onto the fluffy curls of cloud-white and the rapture on the face, cute nose tilted up as he looked up at the hanging artwork - well, it was artwork in itself.

Azira Fell, stunning and soft and brilliant, had fallen into his path like a light to guide him towards new inspiration.

His subject matter had always been biblical - repenting demons and places like Eden and Babel - but never an angel. Until this one had appeared.

His phone rang and, with a press of paint-dirty fingers, he put it on speaker to continue working, “Crowley here.”

“Are you getting ready for the opening?”

Crowley rolled his eyes, “Nice to hear from you too, Bee, and I’m in the middle of a creative outpour so no, not yet. But I will be there, don’t worry your fuzzy little fly-head. You see, I have a date.”

From the other end of the line, there was a little hiss of laughter, “Who did you hoodwink into being your date to this thing.”

“Not hoodwinked, charmed,” he said, taking a break and sighing until his body was relaxed. “Bee, this is the most beautiful man I’ve ever met and he’s kind and simply amazing. I think I’m in love.”

“You said that both about Lilith and Lucian and look at what happened there,” said Bee,. “Just watch yourself, I don’t want you to go down that spiral again.”

Crowley cooed, “Aww, Bee-Bee, you do care.”

“Shut it, punk. Just finish up and get ready. Send me a few pictures of your work…see if we have another exhibit on our hands.”

And without letting him get another word in edgewise, Bee hung up and Crowley found himself facing the unfinished painting. The crinkles at his eyes and the soft curve of that smile that Crowley followed with the tip of his finger.

“He won’t be like the others. He’s different. I can tell,” he said. “You are.”

Azra was waiting outside of the exhibit, afraid to walk in alone and have eyes on him. He tugged the cream waistcoat down, wishing it didn’t press so tight against his stomach. 

Nerves danced within him until he felt like there was no other option but to turn around and go home - what was he doing in a place like this anyway? He didn’t fit - and Tony would be better off without someone like him.

This way he can find someone more like him.

Mind made up, Azra turned around and bumped into someone.

“Oh, I am terribly sorry, I was just on my way out,” he said, bending down to pick up the glasses that ended up on the floor.

“I certainly hope not,” the person he bumped into said. “Considering you’d be standing me up.”

Azra straightened up to meet the gorgeous, uncovered gold eyes of Tony who was giving him a shy smile. He let himself look the man over, a pang in his stomach as he took in the sleek black outfit, sinfully tight, and scattered with red sequins.

When he met the eyes again, Tony’s smile had slipped a little, “Are you really about to leave?”

“I - I just don’t belong here,” said Azra, pouting. “Everyone is so fashionable and beautiful and far beyond my league.”

Tony grabbed his hand where they were twirling the pair of sunglasses, “Hey, it’s alright, angel. You’re not here for them anyway, you’re here for me. And you’re just as beautiful as anyone in there - more, because those are just money hoarding, elites who have no heart. Now what do you say - will you come in with me?”

With a weak nod, Azra allowed Tony to take the glasses and tuck his hand into the fold of his elbow.

“There’s a love. Let’s go in, gorgeous.”

When they walked in, a short guest fell at Tony’s unoccupied side, eyes glued onto the phone in their hand.

“Okay, so they’ve been waiting for you. You probably will have a good ten minutes where everyone will want to schmooze, then another five for photo ops, and then one good one in front of the piece that you choose. Got it?”

Tony rolled his eyes, “I got it, Bee. Let me introduce my date, Azra. Azra, this is my - manager Bee.”

Bee looked around and their eyes got bigger at the sight of the professor, “Oh. Nice to meet you. I can see why he spent all afternoon doodling. Might have another hit series - won’t we, Crowley?”

Azra’s face paled as another moment of bickering passed between Bee and Tony, “Crowley? As in - as in Anthony Crowley? The - the artist of this exhibit?”

Around the artist in question, Bee gave a little snort, “Okay, so I know you’re not in it for the fame. Good to know. Keep an eye - and hand - on him, Crowley. You’ve got a keeper for once.”

Crowley turned around, hand scratching his neck, “Yeah, I - I didn’t want you to feel obligated to like anything just because of who I am. I really enjoyed our time this morning and didn’t want it ruined by - by my name.”

Azra sputtered, “My - my dear, your artwork is stunning. This is your celebration. I shouldn’t,” he tried to pull out of Crowley’s grasp which made him only hold on tighter.

“Please, don’t,” said Crowley, thumb rubbing over Azra’s knuckles. “I don’t care what all these people think - or what they’ll say. Please just let me enjoy the exhibit with someone that actually like me for me and not because my name is under all these paintings.”

“You could do much better than me, my dear, just look around.”

“Azra, listen to me,” Crowley said, turning him over so that they were face to face. He held Azra’s face in his hands and looked at him from above the rim of his glasses. “I think you are stunning - thought so since I laid eyes on you. I - ngk - here, let me show you.”

Crowley grappled with his phone and held it out for inspection. Pictures after pictures of the work he’d poured over that afternoon with one subject - Azra.

“You see, angel,” he said. “I don’t want any of these people on my arm or around it - I just want you. Please? Will you let me have tonight and then, if you want, not another second more.”

The open earnestness in Crowley’s eyes made Azra sigh, a small smile on his lips, “Tonight and - maybe dinner tomorrow? My treat?”

A giddy smile spread on Crowley’s face, “Absolutely, yes. Anything. Dinner, breakfast, a movie, a play - anything, hell, feed me to those boys of yours.”

Azra laughed and looped his arm into Crowley’s again, “Not anything so drastic, love. But, come now. I believe Bee said you had ten minutes of schmoozing to get through.”

Arm in arm and laughing, Crowley led Azra through the crowd of elites presenting him to all as ‘my angel and my muse’.

The next morning, Adam dropped a newspaper in front of Warlock, a giddy smile on his face when his friend looked up.

“Professor Fell’s dating the artist.”

Warlock for his part looked at the picture taken of the two - besotted smile on both their faces - and gave a little grin of his own.

“Good. He better know he has a treasure in his hands.”

Adam shrugged, “If he doesn’t, we’ll let him know.”

[meli-productions]

Love Bug

Day Three of #ineffablehusbandsauweek by @ineffablehusbandsweek.

Today we venture into a small-town that seems pulled from a Hallmark movie: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26599846

Aziraphale paced the length of the waiting room, nervously twirling his ring and hoping that his darling was saveable - if only because he couldn’t handle thinking about the cost of replacement. Grace had been in the family for years - it’d be a shame that a silly thing like a trip into the country would put her out of commission. 

But she’d been sputtering and smoking for the past few weeks - this had been inevitable. 

The door opened and he'd never been more grateful to have been ready to speak because at least it hid the dropping of his jaw. The man who walked out was unfairly attractive - disheveled in a way that looked purposeful. His coveralls were tied around his waist, leaving him in a loose black tank and there were grease stains covering the lightly defined muscles of his arms and the long-fingered hands.

When he glanced up, the mechanic took a moment to stare at him - Aziraphale bit down a sigh at the sight of his molten gold eyes - and then took a step towards him.

“You must be the owner of the Volkswaggen,” he reached out a hand, then looking down at the grease, wiped it on the coveralls. “Sorry, I’m filthy, otherwise I’d shake your hand.”

Aziraphale’s mind caught up as the man spoke, “Right, yes. Is Gracie going to be okay? Is she - y’know - ascending to car heaven?”

Though he wanted to smack himself for that comment, it was worth it for the sharp smile that bloomed on the mechanic’s face.

“Nah, nothing of the sort, dove,” said the mechanic. “I’m Crowley, by the way and your - Gracie - she’s gonna be just fine. Just had a little leak that ended up making a bigger mess. Nothing that should break the bank.”

“Oh, wonderful,” said Azirpahale, shoulders dropping with relief. “I’m Aziraphale. Thank you so much for doing this so last minute. How much do I owe you?”

Crowley shook his head, “Nothing at the moment. I’m afraid to say that she’ll be out of commission for a few days at the least - the clean up’s gonna be a bitch.”

Tension returning, Aziraphale felt himself lose color, “Oh, dear. Oh, I was meant to head back home tomorrow. Gabriel will be so cross. I wasn’t meant to be away so long and, I’d only set up a room for a couple of days and now - ”

“Easy there, dove,” said Crowley, hands outstretched but just out of reach. “Take a seat, you look like you’re going to double over. Deep breaths, that’s it, dove. We’ll get you sorted out.”

As Aziraphale sat in one of the rickety, blue plastic chairs and focused on the gold eyes that were now watching him so worried as the mech - as Crowley - squatted before him and, despite the state of his hands reached out towards him. He greedily took the spindly fingers and relished in the warmth of the hand.

“There, we’ll work through it, alright?” he waited until Aziraphale nodded, then swept a thumb across the back of his hand and continued, “I’ll try to get it fixed so you’re not here any more than you need to be. And I have a friend that runs a bed & breakfast, I’m sure she can squeeze you in a room. As for this Gabriel, if he has a problem he can shove it.”

A laugh bubbled out of him and the thumb pressed against his knuckle gave a little squeeze, “I don’t want to put anyone out - and Gabriel is my brother…and boss. I was just supposed to be doing a little travel piece and now it’s become immersive.”

“ Ah, that just means that you’ll have a hell of a piece,” said Crowley. “Look, my break starts in a few minutes. How about I treat you to lunch? Least I could do for freaking you out.”

Aziraphale couldn’t believe his luck, so he just gave a nod which was answered with a bright smile.

“Brilliant. Just wait here. Let me get decent if I’m going to be seen out with an angel.”

Without another word, Crowley straightened up and sauntered out towards the workshop, hips swinging while Aziraphale’s eyes tracked the movement with wide-eyes.

Oh, good Lord.

While he waited, Aziraphale called Gabriel, bracing himself for the berating. And, as usual, his brother didn’t disappoint.

“Honestly, sunshine,” sighed Gabriel and the eye-roll was palpable through the phone. “I told you that that car was unreliable. You should’ve just taken the Lexus we offered.”

Aziraphale pouted, “That car was mother’s, Gabriel. You didn’t want it, Michael didn’t want it, but I did - it was one of her favorite things in this world.”

Another sigh, this time more exasperated, “I know, we don’t have to go through it again: I got the newspaper, Michael got the house, and you got the car. I know. Just - are you gonna be able to get the piece to me in time?”

“Yes, Gabriel.”

“Then for all I care,” the man said. “You can stay as long as you want - get a quaint little cottage there, hell, get married to that God-forsaken town. Just - get me the piece. It’s the tie-in to everything else.”

“Alright , I’ll - ” the dial-tone met his voice, “see you soon.”

He pressed the ‘End Call’ button a little harder than needed, but didn’t feel the satisfaction he thought would come from it.

“Whoa, there, take it easy, angel. Don’t want you breaking the phone,” said Crowley’s voice from behind.

Aziraphale turned, blushing, “I just - he just- ”

“I’m sure your brother deserved it. No doubt,” said Crowley, smirking. “But put the muscle away, dove, might need it later.”

Implication dripped off his words and, had his eyes not been covered by glasses, Aziraphale would’ve expected a wink directed in his direction. He was, nonetheless, disappointed that the gorgeous gold had been covered up, but pleasantly distracted by the new outfit donned by his companion.

Tearing his eyes away from the tight shirt and pants, he asked, “So - ahem - lunch?”

Crowley smiled, “I know a perfect place. I’m sure you’re gonna love it.”

A sleek, black Bentley sat waiting and Aziraphale’s jaw did drop this time at the amazing vehicle before them.

“This is yours?”

“Belonged to my grandfather,” said Crowley, preening under the attention. “I’ve kept it in great shape. She’s my little darling.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help be impressed, if a little jealous, as a pout curved his lip, “And I can’t even keep Grace alive.”

“Oh, dove, things happen. She hasn’t looked like this always, believe me. Come on, in you go, let’s get lunch.”

So as Crowley drove around the small town, the two swapped stories about cars, then family, and then into more casual topics as they relaxed - slipping into the bistro amidst laughter and hand swats.

“Oh, you are dreadful, dear.”

“Look, Bea shouldn’t have tried it - they knew what they were getting themself into.”

The server looked between them, then shot Crowley a sly smile that he pointedly avoided, “Hey Tones, who’s your friend that you took a lunch break for?”

Crowley clenched his teeth, “This is Aziraphale. He was having a rough day so I decided to distract him a little. Don’t be nosy, Ligur - that’s not what you get paid for.”

Ligur just scoffed and turned to Aziraphale, “Regardless of his grumpiness, it’s an honor to meet the person that somehow got the hermit out from under a car. I’m Ligur, Crowley’s oldest friends and I’ll be happy to get you anything you want.”

Aziraphale blushed at the attention from the newcomer, “Aziraphale, pleasure to meet you. The spinach quiche sounds good, I think I’ll have that - and a glass of lemonade.”

“Uh-huh, sure thing,” he glanced over at Crowley and asked, “and dessert?”

Crowley bit back a groan, “Ligur.”

“Not - not at the moment, dear. Thank you.”

With a little huff of laughter, Ligur turned to Crowley and took his order, leaving only after he’d ruffled the red-hair out of its perfect disheveledness. Then, pink sprinkling across his cheeks, Crowley turned to Aziraphale.

“Please, don’t let Ligur freak you out, he’s just trying to be funny.”

“Dear, it’s alright,” Aziraphale said, reaching over to squeeze Crowley’s hand. “I know all about annoying friends. Believe me, you are not being judged by the pushiness of your friend.”

With easing shoulders, Crowley smiled, “Thanks, angel. But, trust me, he’s not gonna be the worst of them all.” 

It was true.

While they tried to enjoy their lunch, still joking and Crowley taking little breaks to watch the enraptured look on Aziraphale’s face as he ate, more people dropped in to catch a glimpse of their famed ‘hermit’ and his new friend.

Hastur, Ligur’s boyfriend, came in and made snide comments that only ended when Ligur upended a glass of cold water atop his head and swept him out of the bistro. Then came Anathema - the friend with the B&B.

“I have a room with your name on it, Aziraphale,” she said, clasping his hands in hers, then giving a little hum. “Your aura is so bright, querido, like a halo. Ay, que chulo,” then turned to Crowley, “tenías razón, si es un angelito mandado por Dios.”

Crowley blushed and hid his face behind his glass of water as Anathema continued to coo over Aziraphale, telling him that the room would be his for as long as he needed - or until he found better accommodations which he thanked with a bright smile and a shake of her hand.

“She’s very pretty,” Aziraphale said, sipping on his drink and watching Crowley’s reaction.

A quirk of a smile, “Yeah, her fiance thinks so, too.”

“Oh,” said Aziraphale, and a happy wiggle ran through his body. “Well, thank you for lunch, darling, but I think I’ve imposed on you for far too long.”

“No imposition, trust me,” said Crowley. “I’m my own boss and I get to decide how long my lunch break is…so you’re not getting in anyone’s way - trust me.” 

“Well, if you say so.”

Anathema was sitting along the flowers of her little cottage when Crowley dropped Aziraphale off and she peeked through the foliage as her friend helped unload the suitcase. Aziraphale knew she was there, he had seen the crest of her curls, but figured that it was just another Ligur incident and should just be ignored.

“Thank you for everything, Crowley,” he said. “Now, you have my number so just let me know when Gracie’s good to go.”

Crowley nodded, “Of course, angel. And I’d say I hope you keep entertained - but I’m sure Ana will find something interesting for you to do. I’ll see you soon.”

“Mind how you go, dear.”

He watched Crowley drive away and when he turned around, he found Anathema perched over the gate - looking far too much like the Cheshire Cat to be comfortable. 

“Welcome, Aziraphale,” she said, swinging the gate open. “Ven, amor, let’s get you settled. And then join me and Newt for tea, we’d love to get to know you a little better.”

The woman was intimidating and zipped through the cottage like a hurricane while Newt, a tall and quiet young man, just smiled at Aziraphale and tried to settle her down for a cuppa. Eventually, he won and the woman settled into her white-washed, wooden chair nursing a cup of lavender tea and the couple grilled him until he was hot under his collar and wishing for the earth to swallow him up.

“Don’t look like that, angelito,” Anathema said, patting his cheek as she passed into the kitchen. “We just want to make sure that you’re good enough for our little carino. Crowley’s special to us and he barely ever comes out of his cave.”

Aziraphale focused on her echoing footsteps instead of the heat of his body, “I’m not anything - I - I’m just a failing journalist from London. I’ll be out of town before you know it and - ”

Newt gave a little snort, “Yeah, that’s what Ana thought. It’s what I thought. This town has a way of dragging you into its heart and making you stay.”

“Opens your heart, too,” said Anathema, reappearing and placing a kiss on Newt’s forehead. “Just - keep the possibilities open, okay amor? You never know what might happen. But enough of that, it’s time for sleep - it’s time for good little angelitos to get ready for tomorrow.”

As dismissals go, it was the nicest Aziraphale ever got and he was ushered into his room by an apologetic Newt. He lay in the soft bed and stared at the ceiling with their spirals that he tracked with his eyes and thought of the curve of Crowley’s smile. 

He wished nothing more to wrap himself in this life with Crowley and his gold eyes - but his life was in London and wishes only took you so far. 

The next afternoon, an unknown number rang Aziraphale’s phone and - with only one unknown person who knew his number - he answered to the drawl of Crowley’s voice.

“Is - is she okay? Are we ready to go?”

Crowley’s silence made Aziraphale nervous, even more so with the sharp intake of air, “Okay, so there might be a little more wrong with Grace than I thought at first glance and I’m going to need some more time.”

As Aziraphale’s breath hitched, Crowley continued in a rush, “Relax, dove, breathe. I’m picking you up and taking you to lunch again - somewhere you won’t be harassed - and we’ll talk this out, alright?” 

The soothing tone released some of the tension off his shoulders, “How do you know just the right thing to say?”

“Practice,” said Crowley, laughing. “I’ll be over in a few, angel. Just be ready - the last thing I need is Anathema on my ass.”

Aziraphale joined in laughing, “Of course not, I’ll make sure I’m ready.”

Anathema, like the seer that she was, was already waiting for him at the door of Jasmine Cottage, “Have another date with Crowley?”

He blushed, “Hardly a date, dear. I think that he just - just feels bad that I have such a bum car.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If that were the case, I should be worried about my fiance being taken away from me - his car is worse than yours. Believe me, Aziraphale, this has nothing to do with your car and everything to do with you, chulo.”

She pressed a kiss on his forehead before gliding back into the heart of the home. Aziraphale, rubbing the spot she’d kissed, kept his focus on the road and processed her words.

Angel. Crowley called him ‘angel’, and there was no way it was because he knew the meaning of his name so it had to be a - a pet name. So when the Bentley pulled up to the curb, Aziraphale blushed and hurried in.

“You seem in a better mood then when we last talked,” Crowley said, tilting his glasses to look upon him with bare eyes. “Let me guess, you told off that hardass brother of yours and now are gonna follow your dream and open up your library.”

Aziraphale stopped in the act of putting on his seatbelt to blink over at his companion, “You remember that?”

“Course I do, ‘s hard to forget such a dream,” drawled Crowley, a hint of a pink brushing his cheeks where they met the rim of his glasses. “So, did you tell Gabriel to fuck off?”

“No,” he said, slowly tracking the blush as it made its way lower into the collar of his shirt. “Not just yet. But he did give me permission to stay as long as I want - might even stay forever - with the right incentive.”

Crowley’s hand slid off the wheel as he turned, “O-oh, yeah? And what incentive would that be.”

Aziraphale, feeling bolder than he had in awhile, hummed, “Let’s start with lunch. Then I’ll let you know.”

A small chuckle was coupled with a change in gears, “Then I hope this lunch is everything you’ve ever wanted, angel.”

[meli-productions]

This Love is Ineffable

I made it to the end! 

Thank you so much for those that stuck with me this #ineffablehusbandsauweek. I'm so glad you've enjoyed the work and I've had so much fun writing them. Thank you to @ineffablehusbandsweek​ for the prompts and opportunity.

This is it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26680813.

The Almighty plays a game of her own making - but sometimes even the pieces get away from Her without Her noticing. After all, being omnipotent did not mean alway being omniscient - She needed Her rest sometimes.

When She planned the heavens and Her angels She created them in pairs - it made things easy that way. Archangels, both those she created for the position and those that ascended to that position, would have their Principalities to protect them - some of them would be mates and some would find their mate elsewhere. 

It didn’t always work out - Gabriel had found his mate elsewhere and Lucifer’s love of himself and his world made it difficult to have a mate for him - but there was one pair She had been happy about.

The angel that would’ve ascended to archangel, Rafael - Rafael the Elder to differentiate him from the one that would eventually replace him - was a starmaker and healer, and with his kindness, dedication, and stubbornness would’ve made a great addition to the ranks of Archangels.

As She prepared for her decision, She fashioned a principality worthy of a radiant being. She pulled starlight from the latest of Rafael’s nebulas and gave him sweetness - a bit of a bastard streak - and curiosity for life. When She’d finished the little cherubic looking fledgling, surprise ran through her incorporeal form - he was a perfect complement to Rafael - the most perfect pair of mates she’d created.

She named him Jophiel and sent him to Michael for training until the time was right for him to take his rightful place at Rafael’s side.

But the war came and the young angel was sent to battle, scolded for protecting fledglings younger than him in battle and her hypervigilant Archangels felled one of their own. The one of them that would’ve opened their eyes to the beauty of Earth and covered their tracks by making Raphael the Younger an Archangel in his stead.

The Almighty was upset, Her shining star had been extinguished - and Jophiel had lost his mate. So She built a reminder for Her overzealous children of what they’ve deprived the world of and renamed the principality to Aziraphale - of Rafael - so they’d always be reminded of the sibling they’d thrown into sulfur.

“Gabriel,” She asked, looking through the heavens for the being She felt absent, “where is Aziraphale?”

The overly-bright smile on Gabriel’s face didn’t match the dead look in his striking violet eyes, “He’s been reassigned - guarding the Eastern Gate though,” he paused, “last I heard he’s been making friends with the humans - not his job. We’ll get him back on track.”

A storminess started overhead as the Almighty processed. Did they know what they’d done? Put a Principality on Earth, with humans, when he had no one else to protect? 

“Why is he there? His job is to protect - but not without direction,” asked the Almighty, storminess rumbling and making Gabriel nervous.

“He can’t get into trouble down there. All he has to do is stand on the wall and protect it from the other side,” said Gabriel, smile now twitching. “He really didn’t have a - a purpose here without an archangel so - we repurposed him.”

The Almighty huffed, indignant, and disappeared to take a peek at Aziraphale in his new position. Just as Gabriel had said, Aziraphale wasn’t stiff-backed on the wall, instead he sat on a rock and talked to Adam and Eve, enraptured by the questions they were asking and their own discussion on the creatures and plants of Eden.

And just like that, the Angels have made their own enemy - a being that will defend Earth against them.

She shook, the equivalent of a head-shake and retreated once again. There would be a price to pay for that.

When She’d sent that first storm to Earth, She was curious as to what would be happening to the two humans - and to see what Azirpahale would do now that he was out of a job again.

To Her surprise, the angel had found someone to share this storm with. Black feathers and scaly patches on exposed skin marked this friend as a demon, one that he was sheltering from the storm under his wings. The demon, for their part huddled close, tucked in and comforted by the being that should be their enemy.

The Almighty took a closer look at the curling red hair and the eyes that were gold and snake-like but very close to its original color - a zap of shock ran through Her form. After everything, Her starlight and his mate had found each other and, by the sense of it, there was a connection already being made.

“Metatron,” She said upon arriving back to Her corner of the sky. “I want Aziraphale to be appointed to Earth. He is to stay there and keep an eye on the Serpent - he knows the humans more than any of the other guardians. I think he’ll be good down there.”

The Metatron raised an eyebrow, not a question but a silent judgement, and turned to give the order not daring to disobey the Almighty. For his part, he relayed the message to Aziraphale’s superior and Gabriel was surprised by the announcement.

“Really? Him?”

“Ours is not to question, young one,” said Metatron. “And She works in mysterious ways - maybe this is how you get rid of your Scarlet Letter.”

Gabriel didn’t say anything, but pouted about it to the rest of the archangels when the time came to officially give Aziraphale the job on Earth.

For centuries, the Almighty kept to Herself, peeking onto earth to see what was going on and tracking Aziraphale and Her starlight - Crawly as he was dubbed by Hell - curious as how falling affected their bond. The spark of joy when Crawly realized that Aziraphale was there at the loading of the Ark and then the consecutive forty days they spent together within - protecting the saved children.

“Don’t try and convince me to let them go,” hissed Crawly, back in the form of a snake and coiled around a clutch of eggs that were children in disguise. “They’re damned now - going againsssst the Almighty’ssss wishes and all.”

Aziraphale chuckled, pressing down between the snake’s eyes in a soothing circle, “I suppose there’s nothing I can do, you wily thing. But I think you’re much more comfortable in this cramped space. I should stick around and keep an eye on you.”

The Almighty, finding him very cute in his disobedience, allowed him to go ahead with what he was trying to do - which was shift into a snake to match Crawly. So she allowed him to turn into a white python, yellow markings woven into the scales, and cloudy eyes that honed in on the clutch and the demon protecting it. 

And the two, oblivious to the nest they’d created, curled there for the time that the ark stayed afloat - only uncurling to get comfortable or so to scent one another. Shifting back when land was sighted, they helped reestablish the children in their new home and parted ways without more than a ‘fare thee well’.  The Almighty felt the little zing of affection that encircled the pair and felt Her joy return, brightening the sun and Her rainbow.

The pair of them became Her favorite thing to observe on Earth - never letting them distract Her from the work that She was meant to do - including the birth of Her son on Earth.

“Dear, we need to go,” Aziraphale said, giving a gentle pull on Crowley’s wrist.

She shook her head, “Not yet. Not until they entomb him.”

Aziraphale nodded, though she couldn’t see it, and allowed her fingers to interlock with his as she followed the train of mourners carrying Yeshua’s body.

“This isn’t fair,” said Crowley, voice shaky. “These wankers think that they’re teaching is better so instead of teaching harder they put a man to death. What good holy men, I can’t wait to see them down in Hell.”

Aziraphale swept his thumb along her hand, “I’m not encouraging you, but if you happen to cross paths with them in Hell - give them a swift kick in the rear for me.”

Crowley, for once in their encounter, gave a little chuckle, “Course not, angel. And I don’t usually hang around the torture room - much too messy but…I’ll deliver this present just for you.” 

With a happy wiggle, Aziraphale gave a quiet noise that was almost a thanks and the Almighty, through mourning the death of Her son, let herself bask in the wave of affection that permeated the somber atmosphere. 

After Yeshua arrived and made his place at Her side, he looked down at where Aziraphale and Crowley were saying goodbyes and beamed.

“I knew two beings so sweet could only belong together.”

The Almighty let out a rumble of laughter that he matched with the brightness of his smile, “Yes - my two lovebirds - impossible and ineffable.”

It was the attraction, the lust that She felt in Rome as she watched Crowley turn as red as his hair while Aziraphale slurped oysters, oblivious to his friend’s plight. And the relief that melted into shy agreement to the - Arrangement. 

At that, She had given such a cry of despair that Metatron had come swooping in wondering what was wrong and finding Her zipping through her office muttering about ‘stupid mates’ and ‘ how can it be taking so long’.

The affection that melted into the real sweet, honeyed string of love as Aziraphale gave Crowley a sparkly-eyed look that the demon obsessed over, throwing himself into Hamlet’s success, until the sounds of an angelic steed echoed through London and announced Aziraphale’s return - and the matching little stutter of a heartbeat, the same honey-sweet string as Aziraphale basked in Crowley’s gift to him.

Paris was the first time that She’d felt her darling Principality feel something stronger than the lulling waves of affection, when that familiar sweetness became spiced with cinnamon-hot lust. Happiness that had started spreading sunlight in darkened corners of the world dimmed when Crowley, happy that Aziraphale was in one piece, shipped him back to London before he could get hurt. 

Aziraphale left, pouting, and left Crowley to his privacy as he - eased away the tension of their meeting. 

But it was after Aziraphale opened his bookshop that the Almighty was at her most excited - and most stunned by their stupidity.

“I’m so glad they didn’t send me back,” Aziraphale said over his glass of wine. “Not much for me up there anyway. ‘S not like there’s someone waiting - not like my old job is still available.”

“Y’re a principality - y’re job is to protect humans down here,” said Crowley, then processed his words and squinted his eyes at him. “And wha’d’ya mean ‘no one waiting’?”

Aziraphale sighed, putting his glass down to fiddle with his waistcoat, “I was supposed to be the principality to an archangel - ‘cept he - he fell. And y’know what I mean, you were an angel once - I - I don’t have a mate.”

Crowley paused mid-sip, “Wh-which one? And - honestly, angel, everyone has a mate - well except the king down,” he pointed towards the ground, “down there y’know.”

“I was supposed to be the protector of the angel Rafael. Well, Rafael the Elder, Raphael the Younger rejected me the minute I was introduced to him,” said Aziraphale, pouting. “And my - my mate also fell. The older angels, the ones who aren’t - aren’t rude, they tell me that my aura is just like Rafael’s. They think he was meant to be my mate. Maybe it’s why She changed my name, to remind me of what I will never have.”

From Her perch where She watched this scene played out, the Almighty rumbled, “No, no, little one. That wasn’t what I meant at all.”

Hands trembling, Crowley placed his glass on the table, drops of wine spilling on the dark wooden surface, “Your name?”

“Jophiel was my name before. I was given the name Aziraphale as a reminder of who I belonged to, who I’ll never have - ‘of Raphael’,” Aziraphale looked down sadly at his hands wringing on his stomach. “And - and you, dear, did you find your mate?”

The Almighty leaned forward on Her cloud perch, “Do it, starlight, tell him.”

“I - ngk - I,” stammered Crowley, red seeping into his face and offsetting the freckles. “N-no, angel. I did my little dance down into sulfur before I found my mate. And - and they’re not in Hell.”

Aziraphale made a little noise and a wave of affection and nervousness muddled the air between them, “Oh? Do you - do you have any hopes of - of finding them?”

Crowley, snake-like, swayed from side-to-side, unaware of what he was doing, “Maybe - maybe I - don’t need a mate, angel. Maybe, I like not being tied down…make my own decisssions this way. Besides, there’ssss no better company than the one I’ve found myself.”

The wine-pinked cheeks darkened as Aziraphale fought not to thank Crowley for the almost kind words he said and the intensity of the affection flooded the room until, had the feeling been tangible, it would’ve choked the two entities within.

Instead of mulling over the sweetness of the feeling, they turned to the less sweet wine until they had celebrated the opening of the bookshop until early morning.

It was the pang of fear that dragged Her attention to Crowley pacing along the edge of the duck pond at St. James. The swans were tracking him with pinprick eyes as they honed into his bread-empty hands and wondered why they hadn’t been fed.

Fear and desperation snapped away into hurt and fury when Aziraphale denied him the Holy Water he wanted and how the angel’s own worry melted into his own spark of anger forcing the two their separate ways - heart heavy and mourning the delicate nature of their Arrangement.

The Almighty couldn’t help but follow Aziraphale - Crowley having cocooned himself for a long nap - proud of Her principality that found his niche to protect but wishing that She could let him know that Crowley was his to love and keep.

After half a century, She had the pleasure of seeing them - even if it was at the loss of one of Her churches - getting back together. Even more - She let the rolling waves of affection and relief that - 

“Oh,” She said, feeling how the soft, silkiness of Aziraphale’s affection spiked and became something greater - when it became Love and twined around the Love of Crowley towards him. “Oh, my sweet angel, I knew you were capable of so much affection but this, this, is stunning. This is why I created life so that this affection - your affections for each other. This is the right plan - the Ineffable Plan.”

Feelings that only intensified and turned that lust of Soho into smooth melancholia when bombarded by the intense cloud of Love between Aziraphale and Crowley while they sat in the Bentley and admitted their feelings in the words they could say.

The Almighty sighed and at her side, Yeshua let out a quiet mumble that got louder. “Are you sure you can’t meddle a little? This is painful.”

“They have to figure it out on their own. They’re almost there.”

The years they spent at the Dowling household almost was the breaking point. If the Almighty ate, She would’ve been snacking on popcorn as She watched the shy flirting and courting of Brother Francis and Nanny Ashtoreth. Then leaned as far as She could to catch a glimpse of the burning intensity of Cortese and Harrison as they seduced each other almost to the brink and then swirling back down as they came back to their own - back to Aziraphale and Crowley.

Then the fight, and the discorporation, and the ping-ponging dizziness of the end of The End of the World, and finally the escape by the skin of their teeth from the unauthorized punishments until things settled back down and they caught their breath.

“Alright,” She said to Yeshua. “Now I get to meddle. The Ineffable Plan is in full affect.”

She dropped a feather - two feathers - one of black and one of white and let them lay in the bookshop’s back room where her favorite couple could see them. It was Crowley that saw it first, snapping a miracle to send them away with a blush dusting his cheeks - but they wouldn’t disappear. He stopped trying when even picking them up and tossing them didn’t stop them from reappearing in the backroom. 

When Aziraphale caught a glimpse of the book, face finally lifting from the book he was devouring, he went over and picked them up, stroking them with reverent fingers and waited until that night when Crowley was sprawled across the couch to bring it up.

“Crowley,” he said, fingers dancing over the rim of his glass, “do you remember when - when we talked about mates?”

Trembling fingers rested the now downed wine glass onto the table as Crowley turned his attention on his angel, “‘Ziraphale, that was a long time ago. Why? Did you happen to come across them?”

Aziraphale let out a shaky breath before meeting Crowley’s full-snake eyes, “Yes, I - I believe I have.”

The Almighty felt sunnier than ever, trying to keep her shine to the side of the world that was still seeing sun and not to the darkened London sky.

For his part, Crowley looked a little panicked as the color drained from his face, “I - I - wot? Did you - you find them while you were down in Hell pretending to be me?” 

“No, darling,” said Aziraphale, a little smile spreading on his face. “I’ve been obtuse for far too long. I think - I think that I always knew who was my mate - the only person that ever put up with me.”

“O - oh, yeah? Who?”

Aziraphale huffed and moved from his usual spot in the armchair to the couch, back against one of Crowley’s legs and sitting dangerously close to the apex. He reached out a hand and waited a breath away from his cheek, “Is it okay?”

Crowley nodded, swallowing through the thick, cottony feel of his mouth as Aziraphale cupped his cheek.

“My love,” he said, feeling the shiver that ran through Crowley’s body. “It’s always been you, hasn’t it? And you knew but - but you waited for me to realize. My dearest,” he thumbed across the sharp cheekbones under his grasp, “I’m done pretending - you can go a little faster.”

A little whine slipped through Crowley’s mouth as he leaned forward, forehead falling against Aziraphale’s, “You’re mine, Aziraphale. From creation. My principality, my mate, my love.”

“Yours, my love, as you are mine,” he said, upturned nose brushing Crowley’s. “May I kiss you, darling? I’d really like to - that is if you - ”

He didn’t get to finish as Crowley pushed forward and kissed him, sliding closer until his legs were bracketed around Aziraphale’s plush form and his hands wove around his middle to tug him impossibly close. 

Hands held on, gentle but demanding as their one kiss into one long kiss and the Almighty, pleased, pulled the curtain to give them their privacy. After 6000 years, She figured they could have as much time as they wanted to each other.

[meli-productions]

A Dragon’s Hoard

Another day, another prompt for the #ineffablehusbandsauweek by @ineffablehusbandsweek. 

Read and comment on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26651497

When her sister, Michael, became queen, Aziraphale knew  it was just a matter of time before something went wrong.

It wasn’t that her sister wasn’t smart or capable of taking care of the kingdom - no, Michael led like a lioness - it was the strong opposition to her that made her rule difficult. Their mother had been well loved - but it was Michael’s strictness and her refusal to marry someone that didn’t love her had made her be seen as a difficult woman not fit to rule.

So it came as no surprise when the first cry of a dragon overhead was quickly blamed on the anger of a sorcerer towards Queen Michael.

“What can we do?” Michael asked her closest staff, her most trusted advisors. “We must send someone to slay the dragon.”

“The dragon will not be slayed,” her seer, Uriel said with a shake of her braided head. “It needs to be appeased - a tribute must be given.”

“Who? I will not put our people at risk,” said Michael, then squared her shoulders and declared. “I shall do it.”

“Send Aziraphale,” came the wheezy voice of Sandalphon. “No harm done there - she is a princess of low standing - one that not even her fiance wants. Give her to the dragon.”

Michael was hesitant, not liking the words of her advisors, but when she pitched the idea to Aziraphale, the younger woman gracefully accepted.

“You are needed here - mother wanted you to take over and care for the kingdom,” she said, a soft smile on her softer face. “Besides, what is there for me here? A husband that is more interested in status than my heart? Children given that will be ignored by their father? Let me make this sacrifice for our people.”

This is how Aziraphale and her horse Angel found themselves riding towards the craignish mouth of the cave that the dragon had been seen entering. 

Aziraphale arrived at the village at the foot of the mountain in rags and with Angel being led along. The people all looked at the woman who looked so out of place with the softness and angelic light of her hazel eyes. Lecherous looks were thrown her way, but she made her way straight to the inn and to the woman in charge.

“Madame Tracy, correct?” she asked, looking at the woman with her red-orange puffy curls pinned back. 

The woman beamed, “Yes, love, that is I. How can I help? Need a room?”

She shook her head, “My groundsman told me to look for you, I have a horse that I won’t be needing anytime soon - said to give her to you.”

Tracy frowned, “And why’s that, love? Giving all your earthly possessions - you’re not becoming a nun, are you? Not such a lovely thing like you.”

A little smile lit up Aziraphale’s face, “No, I’m - I’m being given as tribute to the dragon. I don’t want to put Angel in danger. Please, will you take her?”

“Oh, Princess Aziraphale - ” Tracy begun, curtsying low until her skirts were pooling around her feet. 

Aziraphale tutted and got down at her side, “No, please, don’t. I won’t be a princess for much longer - there’s no need for all this fuss. Plus, I’d like to keep quiet about what I’m doing.”

Tracy pouted, straightening up, “I don’t like that you’re being sacrificed, duckie. But I’ll take your horse - at least until you come back.”

“Madame, I won’t be returning - it’s a dragon we’re talking about.”

She laughed, “Oh, dear little duckie - I have a feeling that we’ll see you back soon. An angel such as you will have no problem with a dragon like that. Take this,” she said, reaching around and handing her a little bottle of gold liquid, “It’s an old family recipe. Can undo any injury or curse. Trust me, love. It’ll come in handy either for you or that dragon.”

Doubt clouding her light eyes, Aziraphale took the elixir and tucked it into her bosom, “Thank you, Madame. Take care of my girl.”

A crowd had formed at the door as everyone tried to catch a glimpse of the newcomer and they split in the middle when she came out. The young men of the village were quick to flock to her side, offering to carry her pack, inviting her for a meal or drink, and she frowned at them trying to turn them down as politely as she could. When one got a little too handsy, she pulled out the dagger tied to her waist and pointed it at his jugular.

“I suggest,” she said, nose flaring, “that you take a step back.”

Hands held aloft before him, the man backed away - taking the rest of her followers with him and Aziraphale, now alone, squared her shoulders and made her way up the mountain.

The cave was large and Aziraphale could hear a low rumble from within, the dragon’s quiet snoring. Her own breath was coming in shaky inhales as she entered the dark cavern on wobbly knees - looking for the creature. Part of her felt bad for waking it up - speeding up her own death - but she’d rather just get it over with. She came across the smoke curling out of large nostrils and swallowed her nerves down.

“Dragon, awake,” she said, voice stronger than she expected it to be. “I am Princess Aziraphale of Eastgate and I am here as tribute for my kingdom. Take me as - as meal or prize - and leave my home alone.”

An eye of gold opened and peered at her, blinking once before the dragon unfolded itself. A puff of fire lit the nearby torches and revealed the massive being to Aziraphale. If she weren’t so terrified she’d think the creature was beautiful.

Black scales trailed into red on its underbelly and its slender form that gave it more of a serpentine look than draconic, the gold eyes looked at her from above before lowering down til its snout was right in front of Aziraphale.

“Brave little morsel,” the dragon said, its deep, rumbling voice vibrated through Aziraphale’s bones. “Willing to give herself up for her people. Tell me, what made you think that I will stop if given a snack?”

Aziraphale tensed, “I don’t know. But better me than my sister - and better a snack than sending champion after champion to attempt slaying you.”

He laughed, “You think I’d be impossible to slay.”

“I think it would be difficult and not worth the effort and death.”

A little hum escaped the dragon and his tail came up to curl around her feet, “Smart words, little princess. But a waste of time. I shan’t eat you - but I will take you as a prize.”

Aziraphale relaxed, if only a little, “Thank you. And - and you’ll leave my kingdom alone?”

Another hum, “I was just sent here, really. Don’t know what my life was before I was sent here. ‘Go East and cause some trouble, ‘s all the instructions I had. I had no intention of harming a kingdom - really just to sleep here - until you came along.”

“Then,” said Aziraphale, frowning. “What’s the point of keeping me here?”

If the dragon could shrug, he would’ve, but instead his tail tightened around Aziraphale’s ankles, “Gets boring around here - now I have someone to talk to…and you came to me, dove.”

She rolled her eyes, “Alright. But what do I call you now that we’re - roommates?”

The dragon chuckled, “My name is Crowley, your highness. And I look forward to getting to know you.”

That first night, Aziraphale and Crowley kept a wary distance. Aziraphale unfolded her pack’s worth of food and her bedroll. She offered the dragon a piece of her meal - if only due to the manners she’d been taught - but he gave a little shake of his massive head, thanking her,  but refusing.

Crowley watched her as she ate, daintily and making obscene little noises that forced his eyes closed lest they show the dilation of his pupils. He didn’t remember much before his orders to come to this kingdom - but he knew that there was something wrong about ogling a woman in such a way.

Aziraphale for her part studied each scale of the dragon and wondered if they were as soft to touch as they looked. But more than that, she wondered what Crowley had meant when he said he didn’t remember much before getting orders. Questions swarmed her mind - but she kept them to the journal she brought with her. 

As she curled into the warmth of her bedroll, she took a final look at the slumbering beast and smiled. 

One prison to another - but at least no bothersome fiance to worry about.

The next morning, Aziraphale awoke alone.

Panic spread to every cell of her body and broke her out into a cold sweat as she scrambled to her feet. She felt stupid for trusting a dragon - a monster - and risking the lives of her people. Dagger in hand, she ventured out of the cave and, when she didn’t find any trace of the beast, nor the sight of destruction in the village below, stormed deeper within the cave.

She found Crowley curled around a fire, scorch marks around the pile of firewood, and a stack of cooked meat in a pile to his side. 

“Good morning, dove,” said Crowley. “I went ahead and caught you some food. Figured beings like you have to eat every day. Also, there are some things hidden in here that you can turn into - a home for the time being.”

Taking a look around, Aziraphale noticed the old furniture that were scattered around - from a lounging chaise and mirrored vanity to the frame of an old canopy bed and dresser - it seemed that there was an old hoard lying around. 

“You - you didn’t attack the town.”

Crowley did the equivalent of a scoff, “Said I wouldn’t. Won’t go against my word. Besides, I’m curious and you’re curious and the only way we’ll get answers is through one another. So we’ll make the most of our time together. Deal?”

Aziraphale lowered her dagger, studying the expression on the dragon, “Deal.”

One morning turned into a few more and the two found themselves easing into a comfortable routine and friendship. Amidst their conversations, Aziraphale found out that Crowley didn’t remember anything about what his life was like before the old witch sent him to Eastgate - couldn’t even remember if he’d always been a dragon or a snake or anything else, that he didn’t want to destroy towns because he was curious of human life. And Crowley found out about Aziraphale’s pompous former betrothed that would dismiss her in conversation - about her mother who loved her and had wanted her to be free to explore before tying her down to this man who despised her.

And as the two learned more about each other, they found themselves growing fonder - curling up on colder nights, Crowley nuzzling against Aziraphale to rouse her in the morning, and cohabiting comfortably for the weeks that came to be. 

It was on one of the days that were chillier than most that found Aziraphale curled against Crowley’s warm stomach while he prodded her with his snout.

“Are you going to sleep all day?” he asked her with a laugh. “C’mon, dove. Up and at ‘em.”

She gave a little whine and patted his snout, “Just a couple more minutes, dear. You’re just so comfortable.”

“You’ve grown soft. You’re in the perfect position for me to eat you up,” said Crowley, tongue flicking out to scent her, tickling her thighs where her nightgown had ridden up.

Aziraphale turned, nuzzling against the soft underbelly and making the muscle twitch, “Mmm, you won’t eat me - you love me too much. ‘N I’m not soft - you’re the soft one. You let me live.”

The words settled heavy over them and woke Aziraphale up with a start. She pulled away from him, blushing, “Sorry, my dear - I didn’t mean.”

“You’re not wrong,” he said, head coming to rest at her side. “I did spare you and I do - I do care about you deeply. You’re the only friend I have - maybe ever had but - I can’t keep you here forever.”

She frowned, sleepy eyes coming into focus, “Crowley, I made a promise. My life for the life of my people. I can’t return now.”

“Then don’t return. Go explore the world like your mother would’ve wanted for you,” Crowley said, voice getting rougher. “I’ll keep my promise - won’t lay a claw on your kingdom and you - go live your dream.”

“That dream was of a child,” she said, curls flying with her intensity. “That hasn’t been my dream since my betrothal. I wanted to collect books,” an incredulous laugh escaped her, “a hoard of books. A little library to share with others - teach little village kids to read, but not if I can’t have a friend like you.”

Crowley was quiet, the trail of smoke curling around her until he got up, looking away from her, “Tomorrow, I want you to pack your things and go back to the village. There’s gold in the old hoard - use it to build your library.”

“But - ”

“When I return, I don’t want you here,” he said, unfurling his wings. He turned to her, gold eyes covered in a cloudy film, “Make your dream come true, dove.”

Without heeding her cries of his name, Crowley took off and left Aziraphale alone in the cavernous, echoing darkness. Tears welled in her eyes as she turned to her pack long forgotten in the corner underneath the bed frame. 

She didn’t want to pack. She didn’t want to leave Crowley alone in this cold cave when all he wanted was answers. She loved him and she couldn’t just leave him.

“Well that settles it,” she said to the darkness around him. “I am not moving and he’s just going to have to deal with it.”

Crowley returned to a fire-lit cavern, Aziraphale sitting cross-legged in front of the fire with her journal in her lap. Part of him felt exasperated at the sight of her, the stubborn set of her chin and sharpness in her hazel eyes. The other part was relieved that she hadn’t left. 

“I thought I told you to leave,” he said, voice rough from lack of use.

Aziraphale scoffed, “I’m not gonna leave because you throw a fit. You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

With a huff, Crowley curled around her, snout pushing until her arm rested over it, “You just have to make my life difficult, don’t you?”

“What’s the point of traveling the world by myself when the two of us could go together?” said Aziraphale, stroking the smooth scales between his eyes.

“Oh? Now I’m your noble steed?”

“Nothing noble about you, you wily thing,” she laughed, pressing a kiss along the path her hands were taking. “We’ll talk about it in the morning, alright? For now, I’d like to get warm - and I’m sure you would too.”

Crowley hummed his affirmation, tucking her in tight against him and settled in for the night.

The next morning, Aziraphale found herself in the tight coils of Crowley’s tail as he poised to strike - not towards her, but at something at the mouth of the cave.

“Leave my cave now and I won’t be picking you out of my teeth,” he said, a rumbling deep from his stomach that Aziraphale felt down to her bones.

As she tried to get a better look at the intruder, a familiar voice halted her movements.

“Foul beast. You have killed my beloved and for that you must die,” the boisterous voice echoed through the cave, followed by the sound of metal against rock. “It’s time to rid you that way her sacrifice was not in vain.”

Crowley let out a low hiss that rolled into laughter. He turned enough so he could see Aziraphale behind him and the exasperated roll of her eyes. 

“Dove, you know this meathead?”

He released her at the tap of her hand on his scales, “Unfortunately. This is the betrothed I spoke to you about - Sir Gabriel.”

At the sound of her voice, Gabriel’s expression shifted into confusion, then anger, “Aziraphale? You’re still alive? The beast hasn’t eaten you?”

Aziraphale pulled the dagger out from underneath her blanket and stood at Crowley’s side, “The beast has a name - and no, he’s been nothing but hospitable. But I’m going to ask you to leave now, Gabriel, return to your manor and forget you ever saw us.”

A little incredulous scoff escaped his mouth, “Sunshine, you’re being held hostage. Let me do this for you - let me save you from your imprisonment.”

Another eyeroll and Aziraphale leaned against Crowley, making him puff proudly. At the sight, Gabriel’s nose scrunched up and he took a step back.

“He’s done something- hypnotized you or bewitched you,” he said, readying his sword. “But never fear, sunshine, I’ll save you.”

He lunged forward, sword aloft, and Aziraphale took a step forward to meet the blow. Crowley, quicker than she was, pulled her back into the safety of his tail, snapping at his assailant and taking the brunt of the attack.

“Crowley,” she said, ignoring the man now laying at their feet, impaled by teeth and the metal of his armor. “Dearest, you can’t leave me - you said we’d go explore together.”

A huff of laughter and smoke escaped Crowley’s mouth as he pressed his snout against Aziraphale’s stomach, “Sorry, dove. He was just a little quicker than me. Don’t cry - I’ll be alright and you’ll be alright, too. You’ll see.”

Tears rolled down Aziraphale’s face and fell upon her chest, rolling down the crevice between them and landing on - on a vial. She sobered up for a second and pulled out the little forgotten vial of elixir Madame Tracy had given her.

“Crowley, I’m gonna fix this - I am,” she said, popping open the vial. “Open your mouth for me, love, there you go - this should make it all better.”

The gold liquid dripped down his teeth and he swallowed thick around it. A relieved purr vibrated Aziraphale’s body and then the wound at his neck started glowing gold - then the rest of him started glowing the same gold color.

As the light disappeared, the weight on Aziraphale’s lap lessened and instead of the massive body of the dragon there was a lighter pressure of a human head - of a man’s head in her lap. He shifted, wincing in pain before opening his eyes and glancing at her, eyes wide and gold and hauntingly familiar.

“Crowley?”

“Dove? You look different, definitely bigger, what was in that drink you gave me?”

Aziraphale thought of the Madame’s words, “An elixir that can - that can heal any wound and undo any curse - my love, you were cursed, that’s why you couldn’t remember anything.”

A spark of realization blinked into his eyes and he sprung up, cupping Aziraphale’s face in his long-fingered grasp, “Cursed - dove, you’re right - I - that witch had something against my father and cursed me. I remember now. I - I’m human - wait, I’m human again and you’re here and - ”

She couldn’t fight the huge smile that spread across her face and lit up her light eyes, “Oh, Crowley. I’m so happy for you. I guess now it’s not that weird to say that I love you.”

He smiled, wide and as dangerous as his dragon’s smile had been, and leaned in to pepper kisses across her cheeks.

“You love me? Dove, I adore you,” he said, pressing kisses to her nose and brushing her lips. “Let me show you the world - let me get that library for you. The castle need not see you again - the dragon is slayed by love, just - just allow me the pleasure of being at your side.”

Aziraphale pressed a kiss of her own to the thumb sweeping across her lip, “Of course, my dear. Anything.”

Aziraphale and Crowley returned to the village and it was Madame Tracy, one hand on her hip and the other on Angel’s reins that greeted them.

“Took you long enough,” she said, handing the reins over to Aziraphale. “Come now you two lovebirds. Let's get you settled in the inn until you can settle. You will be staying in town with us, right duckies?”

And how could they argue with such a wise madame?

[meli-productions]

Like A Good Neighbor...

Reposting with the writing in the body: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26580445 for the #ineffablehusbandsauweek

Tadfield was a sleepy town, dull except for the mischief of the children and the strands of gossip that mothers started when they were bored out of their minds. And betwixt the gossipers and the overzealous neighborhood watch, lived the elusive Mr. Aziraphale Fell and equally as mysterious Mr. Anthony J. Crowley.

Aziraphale was the local librarian and the kids of the town knew if they wanted the best hugs or a best place to hide, Mr. Fell was the man to go to. But if they wanted mischief and maybe a quick snack, it was Mr. Crowley they went to. He was a man of many talents - gardener, handyman, mechanic - whatever it was that Tadfield didn’t have he would become.

And these two were neighbors - just across the street - with a perfect view of each other’s home.

When Aziraphale moved to Tadfield to escape the chaos of London - and his overbearing family - he never thought about what he could be getting himself into. He’d just moved into his cottage now overflowing with his collection of books and hoped to settle into that mindset of early retirement - though he was far from that. The library job presented the perfect opportunity to do what he loved and still have money to fill his home with more books. What he didn’t expect was his neighbor across the street.

It had been raining when he moved, but the first day of sun revealed his neighbor across the street. The most gorgeous man he’d ever seen, shirt uncovering a smattering of freckles across his back and wisps of fiery red hair on his chest. Aziraphale was embarrassed to say that he’d left unpacking to a side to sit at the window and watch him tend to the garden.

He found out through the bored, gossipy wives that would perch themselves on his desk, that his name was Anthony Crowley and had moved there a few years prior. He kept mostly to himself unless he was doing odd jobs around town and even then they didn’t know anything about him.

“They don’t know anything because they’re not cool enough,” one of the kids, Adam, said as he sat and ate lunch with Aziraphale. “Mr. Crowley doesn’t like gossips - s’why he likes us .”

And he had taken a liking to the kids too. Adam and his friends, the Them, would spend their lunch with him and then take off into the summer day to have childhood fun. It was from them that he found out more about the mysterious Mr. Crowley and every drop of knowledge made Aziraphale more interested in getting to know his neighbor - but he chose to stay on his side, nose in his books.

What would such a handsome man want with a fussy old bookkeeper anyway?

Crowley knew that the entire town had his landline. It was the number he’d given the first gossipy neighbor when he went over to work on her sink. It’s how he was summoned for a job. So when he heard it ring, he bucked up and steadied himself for one of the town’s women to be on the other side asking him for something trivial - like pruning their already manicured bushes.

“ ‘Ello, Crowley here.”

“Erm, hello, dear,” said an unfamiliar voice from the other end. “I’m sorry to bother you but I was given your number in case something ever went wrong. And something has gone wrong.”

Crowley blinked a few times, “Okay, right. Might I ask who this is?”

“Oh,” the voice sounded mighty embarrassed. “That’s terribly rude of me. I’m Aziraphale…Fell, the new librarian, your - um - neighbor.”

His heart swooped down towards his stomach. The angel .

“Nice to - hear from you,” said Crowley, trying to sound cool despite the speeding of his heartbeat. “What seems to be the problem.”

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment, then a shaky breath later, “There’s a leak in the library. Terribly inconvenient. And with the rain coming soon - ”

“Right. I’m on my way. Best to get it patched up soon. Wouldn’t want any of the books getting wet.”

“Oh, thank you, my dear. I should be at the front desk when you arrive.”

Crowley hung up and ran a hand through his hair, heart threatening to pound out of his chest. He glanced over at the table at the side of the door and stared at the package labeled ‘Aziraphale’, taking a moment to consider taking it before shaking the thought out of his head.

If all goes well , he thought. That gives me another excuse to see him .

He didn’t want to humor the idea that it wouldn’t go well.

In a few minutes, he found himself walking into the library and hoping his legs wouldn’t give out at the sight of the wide smile now being sent his way.

“Oh, thank you for coming so quickly,” Aziraphale said, reaching out a greeting hand. “Terrible way to introduce myself. And it’s usually not a big deal, but when I heard there’d be a storm - ”

Crowley gave the hand a quick shake, trying not to focus on the softness of the fingers in his, “Not a problem. Just show me where the leak is and I’ll see how bad it is.”

Aziraphale kept fussing and worrying, a cute little pout curling his lips, while Crowley took a closer look at his recent obsession.

Even from a distance, Crowley had noticed how stunning his neighbor was - from the tip of his comfy shoes to the last curl of that cloud of white-blond. He saw that there was a subtle strength to his softness and wanted to know more, even when his stormy hazel eyes turned to him, worried, Crowley wanted nothing more than to sink into the warmth he knew was held inside this man.

Aziraphale gave a little point up towards the vaulted roof of the building where he could see a little patch of wet.

“There’s the leak. Usually comes straight down without touching any of the books but - ”

“No point risking it,” said Crowley. “Not a problem. Should be easy enough to patch up. Is there roof access?”

“Right this way, dear boy.”

And if Crowley, in his ogling, let his gaze linger a little longer on the tight pull of fabric over the ample arse, well, only he would know.

Aziraphale felt like the world was testing him. Not only were the threats of storms looming over the leaky hole in the library, but now he had to pretend he hadn’t been staring at the lithe body of his neighbor who was now a lot closer than he’d ever been to him.

Yes, he was being tested and tempted in the worst way. He kept turning towards the ladder that led up to the roof hoping to catch a glimpse of the sinful dipping hips or the supple muscles of Anthony.

Luckily, the man in question had been engrossed in his work since he arrived and hadn’t noticed anything untoward in the librarian’s eyes, but it was nearing lunch and he’d hate to be the cause that the man didn’t eat.

Buck up, Aziraphale .

He squared his shoulders and peeked up the ladder, “Anthony, dear, it’s near lunch. Please come down and rest.”

Glasses hidden eyes peeked down, “Nah, not hungry. Almost done anyway.”

Aziraphale gave a little hmph, “Absolutely not. You’ve been working nonstop. Come down. Rest. Have a snack at least, then you can finish up,” he waited as he heard Crowley grumbling something about ‘snacks’ and then added, “Please?”

A sigh. Then, “Alright, you win. I’m heading down.”

Wriggling happily, Aziraphale moved out of the way and kept his eyes trained on the doorframe so as to not catch an eyeful of legs, rear, shoulders and back.

Crowley stretched, hands on the curve of his back as he cracked this way and that, “Right. Got any snack machines?”

Aziraphale shot him an appalled look, “Absolutely not - and I’m not going to put you through the horror of junk food. Come, I have some food to share - ”

“That’s not necessary- ”

“It isn’t, but, regardless, I will do it,” he said and, feeling bold, took a hold of Crowley’s forearm to lead him to the desk. “I always pack extra just in case the children come around - but considering the weather they won’t wander this far.”

Aziraphale settled him in a seat and smiled at the bright blush highlighting the freckles across the cheekbones, he was surprised that his own face wasn’t burning but gave thanks to the universe for giving him at least that win.

“You’re not allergic to anything, are you dear?”

“Ngk, n-no.”

“Wonderful.”

He pulled out his lunchbox and divided the leftover mushroom risotto between two, handing Crowley a plate which the man looked over with an amused knit to his eyebrows.

“This isn’t really a snack .”

Aziraphale huffed and shot him a look, “Then join me for lunch , Anthony dearest.”

The blush returned to the angular face across from him, “Seems like it’s too late to ask, angel, but I accept the offer. Could be worse - could be eating lunch with the raven that made a nest on the roof.”

“Well, I’m glad that I’m better company than a bird,” he said, then processed Crowley’s words. “Angel?”

Without noticing the cornered expression on his companion’s face, Aziraphale continued, “Oh? You know about my name?”

Crowley was still for a moment, then deflated, “Yes, ‘course, that’s why I called you angel, innit? Unless - unless it bothers you?”

“No,” he responded, much too quick, then blushed. “N-no, it’s fine. Never been called that before.”

“Pity,” said Crowley, shoving risotto in his mouth. “‘S g’d.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence as they ate the food. Aziraphale offered a few grapes that were turned down with a little shake of a head and a smaller smile.

“You’ll spoil me.”

Oh, you so deserve to be spoiled - “It’s the least I could do for how quickly you’ve done this work.”

“Right, best go finish it. Gotta make sure none of your books get wet. I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

“Mind how you go, dear. Say hello to that raven for me.”

-

An hour before closing, Crowley leaned against the check out desk and checked out the distracted librarian cataloguing books with his glasses perched precariously at the end of his nose.

He’d never had a thing for librarians - but now he understood what they had meant by sexy librarians.

Breaking himself out of that train of thought before it dragged lower, Crowley cleared his throat and watched as the focused hazel eyes softened.

“Oh, dear boy, thank you so much,” he said, eyes shining as he smiled. “How much do I owe you?”

Crowley shook his head, “Free of charge, Aziraphale. And before you argue it,” he said, noticing the frown and opening mouth, “I know that this is a local library - runs off scraps. Take it as my civic duty.”

“As grateful as I am, I can’t just not give you anything,” said Aziraphale, hands strangling the hem of his sweater. “I wouldn’t be able to rest.”

“Just - “ Crowley hesitated, then, with his most charming smile said, “just make me dinner and we’ll call it even?”

Aziraphale stalled in his wringing, eyes widening as he glanced up, “Of course. I’m not that great a cook, but if you liked it I’ll swing by later this week and drop something off.”

Crowley felt like thumping his head on the counter, but he continued, “You’re not getting off that easy - ” then winced at his poor choice of words, “erm, what I mean is - good food isn’t worth it if there’s no good company.”

It was worth the awkwardness to see the sugar-plum cheeks pinken prettily and Aziraphale nodded, “Ah, yes. Um, what - what do you say to Friday night? 8 o’clock?

Blood thundering, Crowley beamed, “Sound great. I’ll bring wine, angel.”

In a small town like Tadfield, nothing remained quiet for too long. The neighborhood had seen Crowley atop the library like a beacon and so Aziraphale was assaulted by the curious women wondering what had happened and what the librarian had thought of his elusive neighbor.

They were also quick to notice the dusting of pink on Aziraphale’s face when he mentioned that it was ‘a simple thing and Anthony completed it right on time.’

Soon the rumor mill started spinning and the next thing he knew, Crowley found himself holding the yarn of old Mrs. Galloway being interrogated on what he thought of the ‘darling librarian’. And how could he keep from the eagle-eyed woman that he thought he’d gone to heaven when he looked into those hazel eyes.

“But you can’t go and tell those vultures that,” hissed Crowley. “They’ll scare him away.”

Mrs. Galloway just gave a thoughtful hum and continued knitting - but said vultures didn’t find out anything. All they knew is just that they’d seen a dopey-looking Crowley dancing into his house with a paper bag on Thursday afternoon and out of the house dressed neater and more handsome then he’d ever looked on Friday night.

What they didn’t know is that tucked underneath the bottle of wine in his hands was the package he’d been hiding for the past couple of weeks - the conversation topic he was hoping would connect him with the angel across the street from him.

He knocked and waited, leg bouncing with nervous energy and stilling only when he heard the click of the door.

Aziraphale was alight from behind by the light of the house and it made him look more angelic than ever as the golden glow danced through his curls and off the tan and blue of his outfit.

“Come in, dear, it’s much too wet to be hanging about,” and he pulled Crowley in without a second thought. “Let me put your coat on the rack, don’t want you catching your death in those clothes.”

Crowley thought he’d risk a cold every day if it meant being fussed over by Aziraphale who helped him out of his leather jacket. Every brush of fingers against his body set heat running through every cell.

Clearing his throat, he held out the bottle, “Brought wine, as promised.”

Noticing the year, Aziraphale made an appreciative noise, “This is lovely, dear, I’m going to go ahead and put this on ice. Take a seat, make yourself at home, we’ve got a couple more tics ‘till the food’s ready.”

As he slipped into the kitchen, Crowley made sure to watch him wishing he was the cozy sweater just to hold him that close and then took a seat at the little table. There was a book sitting on it, Pride and Prejudice, and felt the package in his hands grow heavier in his lap.

“Here, dearest, have a glass. It’s not as good as what you brought for us but - ” Aziraphale faltered as he saw the furrowed brow sinking into the frames of Crowley’s sunglasses, “What’s wrong?”

“I - I have something of yours,” said Crowley, slipping off his glasses. “I’ve been - selfishly holding onto it because I wanted a reason to come over - now it just feels creepy and I’m thinking I should just go back home.”

“What- ”

The brown-paper package slid onto the table - a rectangle, hefty, that could only be a book addressed to Aziraphale from a ‘Gabriel’. Crowley, heart heavy and feet even heavier, stood.

“Sorry, angel. I’ll just - get out of your hair,” he said, glasses dangling at the tip of his fingers and he made his way out - until a hand tugged his wrist and stopped him mid-shuffle.

He met Aziraphale’s warm expression, a small and shy smile playing on his face, “I made too much food for just one person - be a shame to let it go to waste.”

Another tug brought him closer to Aziraphale’s warmth and the manicured fingers plucked the glasses out of his fingers, “Sit back down, darling boy. You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just a package from my brother - probably some sort of self-help book he’s so fond of sending me. No harm, no foul. And,” he gave a little laugh at this, “at least you had a plan - I was just resigned to watching you from my window.”

At the stunned expression from Crowley, Aziraphale sighed, “My dear, I’ve been trying to gather up the courage to have a conversation with you since the first time I saw you in your garden - but I’m a foolish old man- ”

“Not that old,” muttered Crowley.

“ - but you were brave enough for us both.” continued Aziraphale, ignoring the interruption. “Now, you are going to stay right there, I am going to serve us both a wonderful serving of pasta alla puttanesca and, if you’re still interested after dinner, we can enjoy dessert.”

Crowley studied the man who said dessert, but looked like he’d meant dessert , and felt his lips twitch up, “Well, can’t say no to an offer like that.”

Aziraphale beamed, “Good. Now, be a dear and open that package up for me while I get our plates.”

The damned package sat there, teasing, so Crowley ripped it open, laughing when he read the title.

“What’s so funny?”

Holding the book up to Aziraphale, the two of them looked at each other and broke out into laughter, moving the book out of the way as they dug into their food.

Gabriel - with the wisdom only sibling intuition could bring - had sent Aziraphale the one thing he knew his brother would need:

How to Get a Date in 10 Easy Steps.

[meli-productions]

Day Two or #ineffablehusbandsauweek by @ineffablehusbandsweek brought to you by State Farm

[meli-productions]

Ladies in Waiting

Another day, another prompt for the #ineffablehusbandsauweek by @ineffablehusbandsweek. This is for day five and, as always, you’re welcome to leave a comment or a kudos on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26635795

The approaching carriage towards the mansion was bringing a little bounce to Lady Aziraphale’s feet, at her side her brother squeezed her arm.

“Calm down, Aziraphale,” said Gabriel. “I know it’s the first time you’ve seen your betrothed in ten years, but this is unbecoming of a lady of your standing.”

Aziraphale fought the urge to stick out her tongue and instead turned her attention to the stopping carriage that was now being opened to reveal the Crowleys.

Salema and Lucius Crowley came out first, greeting her mother and Gabriel with the respect of one aristocratic family to the other. Then walked out Lady Beatrice - though they refused to be called Lady. Bea smirked up at Gabriel, who flustered under the attention, then curtsied to Lady Grace before standing at the side of her parents. The youngest child, Adam, ran out next and hugged Aziraphale, complementing her and shooting a dimpled smile up at the laughing woman.

And finally, the last member of the family stepped down. The black dress with red laces wove up the lithe body and up to the face of the red-haired woman.

Aziraphale swallowed hard against the lump in her throat as she met the honey-gold eyes of her best friend and fiancee. The woman was beautiful, more beautiful than she had been when she left all those years ago. Her dark-red hair was pinned back and her smile lit up her freckled face as she curtsied to the elders of the family, to the siblings, then turned to face Aziraphale again.

“Aziraphale,” she said, eyes softening. “It’s so great to see you.”

Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest, “Antía. It’s wonderful to see you as well. I - I missed you so.”

“Same here, angel,” she said. “I’m glad to be back.”

“Well,” said Grace, breaking the moment between them with a knowing little smile on her face. “We have so much to catch up on. Come on in, old friends. Let’s get a wiggle on.”

Adam ran forward while the rest of them took a more casual stride. Beatrice was making comments to Gabriel that was bringing a blush up his neck towards his cheeks.

Antía for her part walked close to Aziraphale, the back of her hand brushing Aziraphale’s, “Do you want to go to the garden - we can do some catching up away from - well, honestly, Bea and Gabriel’s weird thing.”

She nodded, smiling when she saw the shy tug of Antía’s lips. Aziraphale ignored the weird, insistent tug in the depth of her stomach though her mind was running with a simple mantra of ‘oh, no oh, no oh, no.’

Antía had been watching Aziraphale since the carriage had reached a curve to where she could keep an eye on her. Her heartbeat thundered in her ear as she caught a glimpse of her oldest friend - of her fiancee.

She’d never forgotten the starlight hair and the hazel eyes, but looking at how she’d grown from her childish fat into a soft roundness with ample breasts and curving rear, Antía felt her mouth become dry.

“Is that her?” asked Adam, crawling over her lap to get a better look. “Is that Aziraphale? Oh, wow, she’s really pretty. You sure you don’t wanna marry her because I could do it - if she’ll wait.”

She blushed and pushed Adam away, “Enough, Hellspawn. Yes, that’s - that’s Azi.”

Bea whistled, “Damn, sis, she’s fucking gorgeous. And I heard that she’s terribly smart - and a smartass. Perfect for you, Tee.”

Antía ignored her siblings and mulled in the feeling of her churning stomach. The feeling only grew as she got closer to Aziraphale and noticed the sparkling of her hazel eyes, the pink of her cheeks and plumped lips, and the swell of her chest exposing her cleavage in her fashionable dress.

As they reached into the garden of the estate, Aziraphale led them to a familiar corner - the bandstand - the last place they’d ever been together.

The place they’d agreed to go against their family’s wishes and not get married to each other - choosing to be friends rather than lovers.

Antía couldn’t help regret making that agreement as she met Aziraphale’s blinding smile.

“It’s so great to see you, dearest. I did miss you terribly these years,” she said, reaching over and taking Antía’s hand. “My dearest Crowley, your letters weren’t enough to keep me happy. Just seeing you is enough to bring me so much joy.”

“I missed you too,” said Antía, stroking the knuckles of the soft, white hand. “I didn’t think I’d ever come back - it felt like Mum and Dad would never return - if it weren’t for Adam, it might not have happened.”

Aziraphale’s face lit up, “He’s so big, dear. And he’ll love it here. There are so many children his age now - little Pippin and Bryan and Wensley and even quiet Warlock - all would be wonderful friends for him. But please, tell me about your years away.”

The two sat there and shared their stories, holding hands and leaning in towards each other until Adam, smirking, appeared and leaned against the metal of the bandstand.

“It’s time to eat,” he said. “And Lord Gabriel is worried that the two of you are up to something untoward.”

“So they sent you, little Hellspawn? Not too smart,” said Antía, ruffling his unruly mop of hair.

He shrugged, “I knew that you weren’t. After all, isn’t it that the two of you said you wouldn’t marry each other.”

The smiles on both women’s faces slipped.

“Erm, right,” she said, turning to Aziraphale and reaching out her arm. “Come, Azi, let’s go to dinner.”

Aziraphale’s smile returned, smaller but just as warm, as she took Antía’s arm, “Lead the way, dear.”

The three of them made their way back into the manor, Adam sharing with Aziraphale all his favorite things as the woman paid attention to each childish comment he makes with a laugh, tugging her friend’s arm closer in amusement.

Antía smiled and relished in the feel of the arm in his - she just hoped that her heart’s thundering slows down.

Oh, dear Lord, no.

Gabriel leaned against the piano as Aziraphale practiced, and watched her with a smirk until she looked up at him and made a face.

“What is it, Gabriel?”

He hummed and plucked at the strings within the piano, ruining her music, “You seemed quite happy to see Antía. Does this mean you’ve reconsidered that silly promise the two of you made?”

Aziraphale was quiet, blushing as her brother scanned her expression and his smirk widened into a smile, “I knew it. You’ve always loved Antía and now you’ve actually fallen for her.”

“Gabriel, please. She’s my best friend, I’ve missed her very much,” said Aziraphale, sliding out of the bench and turning her back on her brother. “So I would appreciate it if you don’t start rumours that’ll through the household into a tizzy.”

“There’s nothing wrong with loving your betrothed,” said Gabriel, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve been taking care of this family for a very long time and it’s time you make your own life - and who better than someone you love like Antía.”

She sighed, “Even if I did love her like that, Gabriel. She made her point strongly all those years ago and she might not be interested.”

His hand squeezed on her shoulder, “Keep your head up, Sunshine. I’m sure you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

Aziraphale scoffed, “Sure, Gabriel, just as I’m sure you won’t be mortified by Bea’s comments.”

She left him stammering after her and made her way out to the garden, to the sunny spot of the bandstand. The memory of this place would always be bittersweet  - it was always the place that she and Antía would play princesses and knights and hide from the older siblings.

But it was where they said goodbye. Where her friend had grabbed her hand in both of her spindly fingered grasp and looked her in the eye:

“I love you Azi, but you’re my best friend - I don’t want to marry you and risk ruining that,” Antía said, always wiser than her age would imply. She’d looked at her with those wide, honey-gold eyes that looked sad.

Aziraphale, without understanding her friend’s worry, squeezed her hand and answered, “I love you, too and - if you’re afraid that’ll happen then we won’t get married. We’ll just be best friends forever.”

She sighed, running a hand over the greening metal that remembered more than she, “Best friends forever - best friends and nothing more. Even though - even though she’s the most beautiful being in the world, the smartest, the most creative - the only person I’ve ever loved and everything I’ll ever want and need and,” Aziraphale stopped, hand pressing against her chest. “And she won’t ever marry me.”

Though there was an ache in her heart, she took a steadying breath and squared her shoulders, “Buck up, Zira. She’s your friend and she loves you as that - take what you can get.”

She settled into the bandstand with her book and tried to keep her mind off her heartache.

Adam had been watching Antía pace from one side of the sitting room to the other for about twenty minutes, and he was getting dizzy.

“Tia, you’ve gotta stop - so you’re in love with your friend, what’s the worst thing that’s gonna happen?” he asked, eyes still tracking her before she stopped and turned to him.

“You don’t understand, Hellspawn, you’re so young,” she said, sighing. “I made such a big deal about not getting married - about being afraid to ruin our friendship and now- ”

“Why were you so afraid?”

“Aunt Hestia and Uncle Luthor - they told me how Uncle Luther was going to get married to his best friend but when he met Aunt Hesti, he turned her down and - it ruined their friendship and they never talked again. And they’d been friends since childhood.”

The young boy frowned, “Tia, for someone so smart you’re being really stupid. Aziraphale loves you, it’s so obvious, can’t you just tell her you do too?”

“And what happens if she doesn’t? What happens if she does but not enough to marry me?”

Adam rolled his eyes, “Okay. Whatever Tia. But I’m gonna prove that you two deserve to get married and you’re both going to thank me, just you see.”

Antía wrung her hands, nervous, watching the boy jump to his feet and leave. She knew that she’d loved Aziraphale since they were young, and she knew that there wouldn’t be anyone else for her than Aziraphale, but she couldn’t risk losing her the way Uncle Luthor had lost his friend Makayla.

“Antía,” called Bea, slipping into the room behind her and draping their shorter frame along her back. “I know what’s going on in your head - and whatever Adam said he’s probably right. Azi loves you, has always loved you. And we’ll be celebrating your marriage by the end of the year. Trust me.”

She leaned back against her sibling, “I hope so, Bea. I really do.”

For the next few weeks, Grace and the Crowleys encouraged their daughters to spend as much time together as possible. Though the two had been betrothed from a young age, neither family wanted to push the tremulous trust that their daughters had in them to not force them to marry.

No. If they were to marry it should be because they chose it.

So Aziraphale and Antía were allowed to walk the grounds and peruse the shops together - followed by one of the siblings in the shadows or by Adam and his new pack of friends. Their friendship grew in spades - openly displaying their affections and catching up on the years away.

And every second they spent together they fell a little more in love.

It was while they were in town, arm-in-arm and laughing at Adam’s playing, that they were interrupted by a nasally voice.

“Aziraphale, it’s lovely to see you around,” the voice said, attached to it was a short, stocky man with a little sneer to his nose and a gold tooth flashing at them.

Her grip on Antía’s arm tightened as she gave him a polite smile, “Sandy, how - erm - nice to see you. How is your mother?”

He waved the question aside, “She’s just fine, Aziraphale. But tell me, have you considered my proposal? Your parents never gave an answer when I asked for your hand - said it would be up to you.”

Antía felt her own grip tighten, but Aziraphale continued, “I was flattered, Sandy, but I’ve been betrothed for a while and - ”

“A betrothed that doesn’t even want you,” the man said with a hiccough of a laugh. “Don’t you think you’re better off with someone that does?”

Aziraphale gave a shuddering breath, “Sandy, I think I should’ve stopped you before you embarrassed yourself - but it seems too late for that. I should’ve introduced you to my betrothed - Lady Antía Crowley.”

Sandy’s face paled as he glanced over at the woman that straightened up and met his gaze with eyes of hardened amber. He bid his apologies and farewells before stumbling away and finding himself being pelted by the not so stray pebbles of Adam’s friend’s slingshots.

Antía, now smug, turned to Aziraphale and was shocked to see her eyes filled with tears. Without asking what was wrong, she tugged her friend away from the crowded street and into the park across the street, sitting her at one of the benches and cupping her face.

“Aziraphale, dove, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head, “It’s nothing, dearest, don’t worry. I know I shouldn’t let his words get to me but - it did. Oh, how I hate that pompous arse.”

Antía stroked Aziraphale’s face, “He is. But don’t let him get to you - your mother wouldn’t force you to marry someone like that, you know that she wants you to be happy.”

“That’s not it, Tia. I - I hate that I thought he was right. That you don’t want me,” Aziraphale said, with a hiccough. “Love, I can’t pretend that I don’t - that I don’t love you, that I don’t want to be with you forever. Antía, I love you and I want to marry you and you don’t - don’t want that. You’ve never wanted that.”

“Azi, no,” she said, wiping away her tears. “No, he’s wrong. I love you, Azi. I’ve always loved you and I know that I said I didn’t want to ruin our friendship with marriage but - I love you and I do. You’re the only one I’d ever want to marry. Aziraphale - will you? Will you marry me?”

The teary hazel eyes blinked up at him, eyelashes dark with casting a pretty arch when she blinked, “Oh, really?”

Antía nodded, “Yes, angel. I love you and I want to marry you? I know this is one hell of a proposal, but do you - do you accept?”

Aziraphale leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss against Antía’s lips, then pulling away with a little moue, “I do. Of course, I do.”

They shared a smile and a laugh, pressing together for another kiss - and another - and another until Adam’s loud ‘ew’ rang through the park and brought them into a bigger set of giggles.

“We should get going, let our parents know.”

Another bout of giggles, “We should - and let’s not give Adam a reason to throw up his lunch.”

Adam agreed from a distance, cheering with his pack of Them as they were joined by the women and made their way back to the carriage to announce their future - and cost Gabriel the bet he made with Bea.