#they actually danced!!! THEY ACTUALLY HELD HANDS AND DANCED AND AZIRAPHALE WAS SO HAPPY AND I CAN'T BELIEVE WE GET TO HAVE THIS

[p4nishers]

i still can't believe crowley just. let himself be led by hand to do a silly fiction inspired dance with aziraphale. like that's actually a thing that happened in good omens and im insane about it

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Within the Circles chapter 3

The third chapter of my summoning fic is now posted! I'm sure things are starting to look up as we reach the middle of the story, right?

*checks notes*

Nnnnnnnnnnnnnope.

Lots of content warnings on this chapter, but like the previous one it's not graphic and most of them are mentioned only briefly or part of flashbacks.

As such, the excerpt below is only the first half of the first scene, minus any CW-content (apart from the fact that Aziraphale is being held against his will and his mind is confused).

--

“There we are.” The woman brushed her fingers across the final ring, and looked up to smile at Aziraphale. The genuine happiness dancing in her pale blue eyes sent a shiver through him, though he couldn’t think why. “Go ahead and try crossing if you like. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Great work,” the leader said, inspecting the changes over her shoulder. “Can you alter the other spells to match?”

“The containment spells, yes, I think so. Those are pretty similar to these. The harnessing spells we’ll have to test as we go, but I’ve already got some notes. Summoning…” she sucked her teeth. “That’s going to be difficult. Should only be one or two changes, but there’s a lot of possibilities to try, and it’s not going to be easy to narrow them down. But now that we know it’s possible…”

“It’s an excellent start.” He walked around the outer circle, counting sigils. “Have you ever studied demonology, angel? It’s a fascinating field.”

Aziraphale sat in the center of the circles, turning and shifting now and then to keep his eyes on the human. The others buzzed about in the background, shadows in the dark, too much to keep track of. Who were they? Scientists? Scholars? He liked scholars, generally. Did he like them?

“I’ve studied many things,” Aziraphale answered. The wave of pain was fairly easy to ignore by now. He just wished his mind would clear. “Spell books. Prophecies. Grimoires. As much nonsense as sense in all of them.” He giggled. “Does yours have that one demon, the lion with duck feet? Utter nonsense.”

“Oh I agree. What do you expect from backwards medieval minds? From so-called sorcerers ready to believe every rumor, and bored scribes who altered and embellished every copy? Four thousand years of practice, and yet every text contains misinformation and fairy tales. Hardly a science at all. That’s why we’re building our own grimoire.”

Aziraphale’s brow wrinkled. That should be important. If he could work out what it meant. “Are you…planning to summon every demon in Hell?”

“Perhaps.” He crouched down tapping a few of the sigils on the ring at his feet. “We’ve also been working through the old spells and rituals. Collecting them, compiling them. Taking a more scientific approach. Once you really understand how it works, you know how one little change…” he pulled out a wax pencil, adding a single line to one of the symbols “…can make a tremendous difference. You should be able to show us your wings now.”

Did he want to do that?

He could remember that he’d tried to manifest his wings, several times, though he couldn’t remember why. Was this human helping him? That didn’t seem right at all.

“No…I think…I’m more comfortable like this.”

“Come now.” The man smiled, but it didn’t reach his dark eyes. It hardly reached all the way across his lips. “I’m sure they’re nice wings.”

“Oh, yes.” Aziraphale felt himself smiling back. “Very lovely, soft and white. Humans seem to find them very impressive.”

“Isn’t that nice? I would really like to see your wings.”

It was very nice. It couldn’t hurt to show them. Crowley had just groomed them the other day, and he always left the feathers so smooth and beautiful, though he would complain about how little attention Aziraphale had been giving them.

He closed his eyes, remembering. Crowley’s chiding, almost angry voice a contrast to the oh-so-gentle fingers running across Aziraphale’s wings. His touch so reverent, even after all this time, as if he couldn’t believe he were allowed such an honor. Now and then his grumbling would get out of hand, (nothing actually cruel, there was no cruelty in him, just an edge to his tongue he’d honed for thousands of years, to keep him safe from threats he would never discuss, never name), and Crowley would stop himself, wrapping an arm around Aziraphale’s waist, pressing his forehead to that spot between his shoulders where the wings sprouted.

And then he would get back to work, softly kissing Aziraphale’s neck and shoulders, until Aziraphale reached up to stroke that red hair, guiding his face closer…

Crowley.

With a shuddering breath, Aziraphale blinked open his eyes, trying to clear the tears. “I…would be happy to show you if you let me go. Please.”

The human smirked and pulled something—an amulet, perhaps—out of his pocket, pressed it to the ring before him.

The metal began to glow, a brilliant blue, brighter and hotter until Aziraphale had to shield his eyes, until the air was too thick and dry to breathe, until—

--

Read the rest on AO3!

[metaphorical-love-for-a-car]

Godfathers-- Crowley x Aziraphale x Reader (Part 1)

Request; “Could I get a plantonic X Reader where the reader is pregnant (with a ex-boyfriend’s baby) and Aziraphale and Crowley are very protective of them and the reader unexpectly goes into labor at Azzy’s shop and Crowley attempts to drive everyone to to hospital. And I say attempt as Reader ends up giving birth in Crowley’s car due to traffic.” (anon)

Warnings; language, alcohol, bit of domestic violence

Word Count; 1.5k 

Notes; I didn’t plan to flesh this out into a multi-part fic but here we are! lol I’m really enjoying writing this one

You had known the Dynamic Duo for quite some time. It all began when you first moved into your boyfriend's apartment. You wanted to be friendly and be on your neighbors' good sides, so you baked a pan of brownies and cut it up into tiny squares. You placed a handful of them into plastic bags, having just enough to give to your closest neighbors while saving some for yourself.

You made your rounds, knocking on nearby doors and hoping to get a response. Most of them were home and appreciative of the desserts. After spending several minutes talking to the neighbors on either side of your apartment, you finally ventured across the hall. Unlike the others, this one was eerily quiet. You could hear muffled sounds coming from the others, indicating some form of life inside. But this one? Utter and complete silence. It was unnaturally quiet, and you wondered if anyone was even home. Nevertheless, you raised a fist and knocked on the door. You waited in the hall for a moment, just to see if you would receive any response. You were about to leave when the door was snatched open by a disgruntled looking man with fiery hair and a small plant in his hand. Even from behind the sunglasses, you could tell he eyeing you suspiciously. You put on your best customer-service smile. "Hi! I'm (Y/N), the new neighbor across the hall. I just wanted to introduce myself and bring you these," you chirped, holding out the bag of brownies. The man's eyebrows shot up, and he stumbled over his words for a moment.

"Crowley. I- er- thanks?" He carefully took the bag from you then glanced around. "Uh, here. Take this." Crowley shoved the small, potted plant into your arms. He gave you a curt nod. "Welcome to the neighborhood," he said quickly, disappearing behind the door once more. You blinked slowly before inspecting the plant. One of its leaves was beginning to turn yellow.

"Well, he was certainly interesting," you hummed as you returned to your own apartment.

Over the following months, you found yourself talking to Crowley more often, and it became a regular thing for him to give you plants. Why? You had no clue. You once tried to ask about it, but he just mumbled something about how they needed to grow better. You could have sworn you saw the plant actually start shivering at the words.

Your relationship started to get rocky, but you kept brushing it off. You reminded yourself that every relationship goes through rough patches. It was just a matter of working through it together. The two of you would fight, give each other a few hours to cool off, then return and talk about it. You thought that things would get better, especially after he proposed.

Then he started drinking.

At first, it wasn't too bad, just a couple of beers or glasses of wine in the evening with dinner.  Then the drinks started getting heavier, and he started 'going out' more often. There were times where he would disappear for days. You couldn't handle it, so you tried to confront him about it. You asked him to be home for dinner, telling him that you were making his favorite meal. As the two of you ate in stiff silence, you cleared your throat, not wanting to dance around the subject for too much longer.

"Love, I've noticed you've... been drinking a lot lately, and I think maybe you should try to cut back just a little?"

"Why?" he grumbled.

"It just..." You paused, trying to figure out how to phrase it. "It makes me uncomfortable." He scoffed before shoveling more food in his mouth.

"Well, that sounds like a you problem. Maybe you should sort yourself out before you start coming after me."

"I'm sorry?" you scoffed.

"Always bitchin' about something or another. Nothing is ever good enough for you."

"Now, you know that's not true. Look, I'm just bringing this up because I love you and I don't want you to turn into an alcoholic!" That's when shit hit the fan, and you regretted the words almost as soon as they left your mouth.

"Oh, you think I'm an alcoholic? So that's what this is about?" You opened your mouth to speak, but he got to his feet. "I'm not a fucking alcoholic, (Y/N). Tell me, have I ever hurt you? Put my hands on you like that?" You shook your head, trying to keep the tears from building up in your eyes. You didn't want another fight. Not today.

"Being an alcoholic doesn't always mean being abusive. It's about addiction." He scoffed, picking up his plate and carrying it over to the kitchen.

"I'm not addicted. And I'm a grown-ass man. I can do whatever the hell I want. Why does it matter so much to you?"

"Because I'm pregnant." Your voice was barely above a whisper. He dropped his plate into the sink, and your gaze flickered over to where he stood. He leaned against the counter, rubbing his face with his hand. "Happy anniversary?" you said with a weak laugh. A tear slipped down your cheek, but you quickly wiped it away before he could see.

"How long have you known?"

"About a week and a half... that's why I wanted us to have dinner together tonight. So we could talk and figure stuff out." He pinched the bridge of his nose before lowering his hand. His gaze suddenly darkened.

"You're seriously not thinking about keeping it, are you?" Your jaw dropped at the question. He barked out a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. "This is perfect. Just fucking perfect!" he shouted, slamming his hands down on the counter. You flinched at the sound.

"Please stop yelling before the neighbors hear."

"Who gives a fucking shit what they think? We are not keeping this baby!" That's when you got to your feet.

"Excuse me? You can't make that decision without me!"

"I can, and I have. I'll schedule your abortion appointment for the first one available." He went to grab his cellphone, but you snatched it up before he could reach it. "What the hell are you doing? Give it back!" You shook your head, cradling the phone closer to your chest.

"I'm keeping the baby."

"I'm the man in this relationship, so if I say we're not having a baby, then we're not having a fucking baby!" He stepped towards you and held out a hand. "Now give me my goddamn phone back." When you didn't move, he lunged forward. On instinct, you tried to run away, but in an apartment, there really wasn't anywhere you could go.

He wrapped a hand around your wrist and snatched you towards himself. As he pulled you closer, the phone slipped from your grasp and clattered to the floor. He grabbed your jaw, causing you to wince in pain. "Listen carefully," he said in a dangerously low voice, "I want you to get your stuff and get out of here. I don't want to see or hear from you ever again, especially if you have that kid. Understood?" Your throat tightened, and your lips quivered. Fear and grief prevented you from speaking. Instead, you nodded your head as best you could against his grip. His eyes scanned your features for a brief moment before he finally let you go. He stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind himself. You sank to the floor as a quiet sob shook your shoulders.

A few minutes passed, and you had yet pulled yourself from the floor. You heard a soft knock from the door. You quickly wiped your face and glanced into the closest mirror. Your eyes were puffy, face all red and blotchy, but you didn't have time to fix any of that. Taking a deep breath, you pulled the door open to reveal Crowley, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh, hello, Crowley," you chirped, trying to sound as normal as possible. "Got any more plants for me?" He shook his head.

"You don't have to act like everything is fine, (Y/N). I heard all of it." Your shoulders sank, and your fake grin faltered. "But! I- er- I'm going to try to... help." It almost looked as if it pained him to say it. You nodded, giving him a small, grateful smile. You opened the door wider, allowing him to step inside. He glanced around before turning to face you. "And, if it makes you feel any better, I think the bastard just fell down a flight of stairs due to a conveniently placed banana peel." You snorted, a full smile crossing your face as you sniffled.

"That would have been amazing." Crowley gave you a grin. Little did you know that he pulled off a little demonic miracle, and the bastard was, in fact, sitting at the bottom of the stairs with a bruised ass.

~*~*~

Good Omens / Crowley Tag List;

@fatbottomedboi

@kawaiiusagichansan

@groupies-do-it-better

[wordsintimeandspace]

Better With You (6/6)

Due to a petty feud between their respective department heads, Crowley and Aziraphale have been hiding their friendship for months. When they’re suddenly stuck in lockdown amidst a pandemic, Crowley is not coping well. Thankfully, Aziraphale is there for him - but their changing relationship means that keeping secrets from their bosses only becomes more of a challenge.

Crowley/Aziraphale, rated M (for chapter 4). Read on tumblr or AO3.

Crowley let out a long breath as he logged out of the last video conference of the week and closed his laptop. They had made it. A whole week of hiding and lying and deceiving, and all of it had paid off. They’d managed to keep their secret. Most of the week had gone by smoothly, after their rough start on Monday, but Crowley was still relieved. He hadn’t been able to shake the residual anxiety of being discovered completely, especially since Hastur kept pestering him about his secret boyfriend. Crowley wasn’t sure what pissed him off more - the invasive questions or that Hastur was actually right for once.

A knock on the door made Crowley look up, and he smiled as he took in Aziraphale standing in the doorframe.

“All done?” Aziraphale asked, answering Crowley’s smile with a blinding one of his own, as if they hadn’t seen each other all day instead of spending over an hour in an awkward video conference with Gabriel and Beelzebub earlier.

Crowley nodded and stretched his hands over his head, making his spine pop. “Yeah. Last bits of software testing done, documentation written, project successfully deployed to the client.”

Aziraphale crossed the room to wrap his arms around Crowley’s shoulders, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “Very good.”

“How about you?”

“I’m on call for the rest of the day, but unless there’s any problems I’m all ready for the weekend.”

“Good. Do you still want to join me when I stop by my place?”

“Yes. If you’ll have me, that is.”

“Angel.” Crowley glanced up at him, covering Aziraphale’s hands on his shoulders with his own. “Course I do.”

Aziraphale’s eyes were gleaming, filled with tenderness. “Good. Are you hungry? We could order dinner before we leave, or wait until we’re back.”

“Not really,” Crowley admitted. He grinned up at Aziraphale. “You’re still keeping me well fed with all your baked goods. Terrible for my blood sugar, you are.”

“You don’t have to eat them, you know,” Aziraphale scoffed.

“Can’t let them go bad, can I? Would be such a waste of food.”

Aziraphale’s lips twitched. “How kind of you to make this sacrifice. Come on then,” he said as he pulled Crowley to his feet. “Let’s go water your plants before I change my mind.”

~~~

It felt strange, to step back into his dimly lit flat. It had only been a week since he’d been there, but the dark, sparsely furnished corridor was such a stark contrast to Aziraphale’s cluttered and welcoming space that it almost felt like he was entering a stranger’s home instead of his own. Crowley let out a shuddering breath, nervously fiddling with the keys in his hand before stepping aside to let Aziraphale in as well.

The door fell shut behind them with a heavy thud. Quietly, Aziraphale let his gaze wander over the blank walls. “Oh, it’s, err… nice,” he eventually said, but Crowley could see the crease on his face even in the dim light.

Crowley snorted. “No it’s not, you don’t have to pretend. Come on.”

He led Aziraphale through the corridor into the main part of the flat, his steps echoing from the walls. He ignored both the living room and the bedroom as they passed it, mind focused only on the sole thing he had missed during his week at Aziraphale’s place.

The evening sun fell through the high windows of the plant room, painting the room in golden light. Crowley smiled as he took in the comforting sight of his plants and the familiar smell of soil. He held open the door for Aziraphale, gesturing him to step inside first.

“Ohh,” Aziraphale breathed out in wonder as he slowly wandered into the room. “Oh, Crowley, they’re beautiful.”

The praise ran down Crowley’s spine like a shiver. Heat rushed to his cheeks as he took in Aziraphale, his eyes gleaming as sunlight danced over his cheeks. Aziraphale stepped closer to a monstera that grew high towards the ceiling, and brushed his fingers over a leaf with such a gentleness that Crowley felt a short, irrational pang of jealousy.

“They could do better,” he hissed as he stepped at Aziraphale’s side, squinting at the plant. “I see some drooping leaves. I will not stand for drooping leaves.”

“Oh, do be nice to them,” Aziraphale protested. “It’s a hard time for all of us.”

“There are leaf spots, angel. They know exactly what I think about leaf spots.”

Aziraphale tutted. “I’m sure they’re trying their best. Just like we all do. They just need a bit of love and support, and they will be right as rain.”

Crowley felt Aziraphale’s eyes on him, even as he couldn’t bring himself to look at him. Suddenly, he had the unsettling feeling they weren’t just talking about the bloody monstera Aziraphale was still petting. He let out a strangled sound from the back of his throat.

“Water,” he croaked out. “I’ll get some water.” And with that, he grabbed the plant mister and the watering can and stormed out of the room.

Aziraphale was still tending to the plants when he came back, murmuring something under his breath that Crowley couldn’t quite make out. Slowly, he wandered around the room to check on each plant, testing the soil and watering them, searching each leaf for any sign of damage, gently spraying them with water until they were shining in the golden evening light. Most of the plants were in good condition, as lush and beautiful as ever, but a few of them were a little limper than he’d like. He tried to swallow his bad conscience for abandoning them in such a hurry for a whole week.

“I think I’ll have to check on them a little more often,” Crowley said eventually, breaking the companionable silence between them. “Can’t trust these buggers to stay in line without me.”

“You could just move them to my place,” Aziraphale suggested, and Crowley froze in the middle of misting a ficus. He turned to Aziraphale, eyes wide.

“What?” he croaked out.

Aziraphale startled, as if he was only now realizing what he’d said. A blush crept onto his cheeks “I, oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t just presume,” he stammered. “I just thought, well, that what we’re doing might be a long-term solution. I’m sorry. You don’t have to stay indefinitely of course, I’d understand if you’d want to go back to your flat once they lift some of the restrictions, or even before that-”

“Angel,” Crowley interrupted him. “Why the hell would I want to do that?”

Aziraphale let out a nervous chuckle. “Oh, I don’t know. Not getting on your nerves yet, am I?”

Crowley laughed. “No. Course not. Am I?”

“Definitely not.”

Grinning, Crowley set down the plant mister and stepped closer to Aziraphale. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

Aziraphale huffed. “I was under the impression that I had already done it one week ago.”

Affection bloomed in Crowley’s chest, so sweet it was almost suffocating, and he crossed the last distance between them in two long strides. Cupping Aziraphale’s face in his hands, he pressed his lips down to Aziraphale’s.

Aziraphale’s arms were around his waist in just an instant. He angled his head, making it easier for them to slide their lips together, and let out a happy sigh against Crowley’s lips.

No matter how many times they had kissed over the last week, this kind of contact still sent a thrill through Crowley. He felt utterly and completely addicted to Aziraphale’s gentle touch, to his soft lips and his strong arms around him. Crowley had lost track of how many hours they had spent like this already, kissing just for the kissing’s sake, to be close to each other and to explore each other’s lips, instead of taking it as a first step to something more. Aziraphale had been more than happy to let Crowley set the pace over the week, never pushing, never asking for more, but tonight Crowley craved more contact. Aziraphale’s body suddenly couldn’t be close enough.

Carefully, without ever breaking the kiss, Crowley steered Aziraphale through the room until his back hit the window. Aziraphale let out a gasp of surprise, but readily adjusted his stance so that Crowley could step between his legs and press him against the glass properly. Crowley groaned at the friction, pulling away from Aziraphale’s lips only to pepper kisses along his jaw and down his neck. He was just loosening the bow tie to get better access when he was startled by his phone vibrating in his pocket.

He let out another groan, an exasperated one this time, and pressed his face into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck as he waited for the irritating caller to give up.

“Don’t you want to take this?” Aziraphale asked, sounding slightly out of breath.

“No. Ignore it,” Crowley mumbled, once again tugging at Aziraphale’s bow tie. But as soon as he finally got it off him, they were interrupted by Aziraphale’s shrill ringtone. Crowley startled at the sudden noise, jumping a step back. A pained expression crossed Aziraphale’s face as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

“Let me just turn this off and we can- oh.”

“What?” Crowley frowned as he watched Aziraphale’s face turn white.

“It’s Gabriel. I need to call back.”

Before he could, Crowley’s phone vibrated again. He swore under his breath as he dug it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. His stomach dropped as he saw who it was. Beelzebub.

He raised head to meet Aziraphale’s worried gaze.

“Shit.”

“Do you think they know?” Aziraphale asked, his voice wavering.

“I don’t know,” Crowley admitted, reaching out to squeeze Aziraphale’s hand. “But it’s gonna be okay, angel. We’re in this together, yeah?”

A small smile appeared on Aziraphale’s lips. “Yes. Together,” he said, squeezing Crowley’s hand in return.

~~~

To Crowley’s relief, Gabriel and Beelzebub had not called to confront them both with their fraternizing. Not that it mattered. The alternative didn’t seem much better, Crowley had to admit. Maybe he would be transferred to Siberia after all.

“... not sure yet what the exact problem was, but the setup of our software crashed their entire server,” Gabriel explained, the tension on his face clear even through the small screen and the blurry camera. “It’s all down, even their website. They’re trying to restart the main server right now.”

“I don’t know how that could have happened!” Crowley protested, panic rising in his chest. “We did all the required software tests. Dagon approved my code, for fucks sake. This shouldn’t be possible.”

“It doesn’t matter how,” Beelzebub hissed, making Crowley flinch. He was glad he wasn’t in the same room with them, but their irritation made his skin crawl even from the distance. “It only matters that we find the bug and fix it. And hope there isn’t some irreversible data loss.”

“Don’t they have a backup? Or set up their server permissions properly? Even if there is a problem in the code, they should have security measures to make sure a stupid piece of software doesn’t just melt their whole IT infrastructure.”

“We’re not sure what their internal IT did. We’re trying to get a hold on them,” Aziraphale said. He nervously wrung his hands in front of his belly. “It’s proving to be a little difficult. They’re busy with getting things running again.”

“Even if part of the problem is on their side, it’s still our job to fix this,” Gabriel continued with a pained expression on his face. “This is one of our most important customers. We can’t afford to lose them over this, not in the current economy.”

Crowley groaned, letting his head loll back. “Great. Fucking fantastic.”

“Crowley, calm down,” Beelzebub snapped, glaring at him. “I’m waiting for a call from our system administration to see if they can help, but in the meantime, stop whining and make yourself useful. Double-check the code. Triple-check it, if necessary.”

Crowley took a deep breath. All he wanted was to sink into Aziraphale’s arms, at least for a moment until he felt calm enough to face this mess. But with Gabriel and Beelzebub watching, it didn’t matter that Aziraphale was just in the other room. He might as well be miles away. Aziraphale’s frown grew more and more concerned as Crowley struggled to answer, so he forced himself to put on a brave face.

“Okay,” he breathed out, pulling up the code to get to work.

Crowley had barely started when the ringtone of a phone sounded over the speaker, the sudden noise making him jump. He switched back to the video conference just in time to see Gabriel snatch up a phone, frowning at the screen.

The next moments felt like a dream, or a hallucination maybe, so bizarre that Crowley’s brain struggled to keep up and understand what was really happening. He watched as Gabriel let out a sigh. “System administration,” he said, and Crowley had barely time to wonder why they would call Gabriel instead of Beelzebub when both of them reached out at the same time. He couldn’t see the brush of hands, but he doubted he would believe it even if he could. He already struggled to wrap his head around the fact that Beelzebub suddenly had the phone in their hand, picking up before bringing it to their ear.

Crowley stared, his mouth hanging open. He was vaguely aware that Aziraphale stared as well. Beelzebub got up and walked away from the conference as they took the call, shortly appearing in the background of Gabriel’s video before vanishing out of sight. Gabriel seemed unbothered, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

Aziraphale was the first to break the silence. “But- I mean… what? Gabriel?” he stammered.

Gabriel looked up into the camera. “Yes?”

“How- why- I mean… are you two in the same room?”

“Of course.” Gabriel laughed, as if the idea wasn’t just completely bonkers. Crowley still couldn’t bring his face to work properly, let alone form any coherent words. “We have been since lockdown started. Didn’t you notice?”

Aziraphale only gaped at him. Crowley finally managed to regain control of his features and snapped his mouth shut. “But… you hate each other,” he exclaimed after Gabriel didn’t elaborate.

Gabriel shrugged. “Well. Only sometimes. Not generally.”

“Then what is this… this thing,” Crowley protested, gesturing wildly in an attempt to encompass the peculiarity that was Gabriel and Beelzebub. “Whatever it is that you’re usually doing? That thing where you look like you want to tear each other apart in every single meeting?”

“Oh, that’s nothing serious.” Gabriel shot them a toothy smile and, to Crowley’s utter horror, winked at them. “A little workplace rivalry can do wonders to keep a relationship exciting, let me tell you.”

“Relationship?!” Aziraphale cried out, suddenly thrown out of his stupor.

Gabriel let out an exasperated sigh. “Why do you think we’re spending lockdown together, Aziraphale?”

“But… relationships in the company are forbidden! It says so in the policies!” Aziraphale protested.

“That only applies to an employee and their supervisor within the same department. You know, to prevent any abuse of power. Have you actually read the policies?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to reply, but snapped it shut before any sound left his throat. All the colour drained from his face.

Crowley could only stare at him. He had never bothered to read the blasted policies. He’d always taken Aziraphale’s word for it. “You haven’t?! Honestly?” he snapped before he could stop himself.

“I thought you did!” Aziraphale cried. ”It was you who brought it up the first time, wasn’t it?”

“No! Definitely wasn’t me!” Crowley yelled. Only then, in the silence that followed, did he realize what they’d just admitted. His heart skipped a beat, his stomach twisting in anxiety, but instead of looking surprised, or angry even, Gabriel only laughed.

“You thought this was forbidden? Really? Is that why you’re pretending you’re not in the same place?”

“We’re not, we’re-” Crowley stammered, at a loss of words. Heat rushed to his cheeks. “You knew?!”

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are. Not with the way you’ve both been looking at each other for months.”

“But… you could have told us!” Aziraphale protested, the colour slowly returning to his face.

Gabriel barked out another laugh. “What, and disturb whatever Romeo and Juliet reenactment you had going on? Please. It kept the office entertained and the attention away from Bee and me. Do you know there’s a betting pool on when you’ll finally get together? I think I’m about to win fifty quid.”

Crowley sagged in his chair, not sure what else to say. Aziraphale seemed at a loss of words as well. They were both saved from coming up with a response when Beelzebub suddenly reappeared.

Beelzebub took in the awkward silence and Gabriel’s amused smile. “What happened?” they buzzed.

“Nothing,” Crowley said quickly, not very keen to discuss their relationship any further. “What did they say?”

Beelzebub blinked, not looking convinced, but didn’t press the issue. “The system administration people had a look at the logs, and they think it was a problem with how computing resources were allocated on the client’s system, together with a memory leak caused by a different program. The setup of our software was just the last straw for their already overwhelmed system. They’re sending someone over to help sort this out.”

Crowley let out a long breath. “Nothing wrong with our software, then?”

“Probably not,” Beelzebub buzzed, before fixing Crowley with another stern glare. “I still want another code review before they try to set it up again. But that can wait until next week.”

They finally said their goodbyes, both Crowley and Aziraphale still quiet and trying to avoid Gabriel’s smug smile. As soon as he had closed the video conference, Crowley sagged in his chair. He felt tired, all of a sudden, and angry, just a little bit, that all this worrying had been for nothing. But most of all he felt relief. He got to his feet on shaking legs to get to the kitchen, only to run into Aziraphale right in the corridor. They silently looked at each other for a moment before Crowley lunged forward.

“I’m mad at you,” he groaned, even as he buried his face in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Honestly. I can’t believe you.”

Aziraphale held him close, his arms around Crowley’s shoulders and his nose pressed into his hair. “It was both our fault, really.”

“Was it?! You honestly expected me to read the blasted policies?”

“Yes. Well.” Aziraphale cleared his throat. “You could at least have double-checked what I was saying.”

Crowley only grumbled in response.

“Crowley, do you realize what this means?”

“What?”

Aziraphale pulled back, enough to cup Crowley’s face in his hands and kiss him long and deep before speaking. “We’re free to be together in any way we want to, without consequences, without repercussions. I can talk about you, call you my partner, without worrying who might hear. I get to hold your hand, and I get to kiss you, without worrying who might see. I don’t have to hide my affection. I could tell the whole world how much I love you.”

Crowley’s breath hitched. Tears burned in his eyes as he held Aziraphale’s gaze, drowning in his gleaming eyes, oh so blue and filled to the brim with affection. “I love you too,” he croaked out, and Aziraphale’s answering smile was bright like a star. He pressed his lips back down onto Crowley’s, passionate and hungry in a way that made Crowley’s head swim. For a second Crowley feared his legs would give out, but Aziraphale held him close, held him upright, just like he had done over the past week after it had felt like Crowley’s entire world had crumbled around him.

“Angel?” he murmured between kisses, as they slowly moved towards the bedroom.

“Yes, my darling?” Aziraphale purred as he led Crowley inside, coming to a stop beside the bed.

“I’m just- I’m just so glad you’re here,” Crowley gasped. “That I’m not alone anymore in all this mess.“

“Like you said earlier, we’re in this together, ” Aziraphale said softly, smiling brightly as he steered Crowley down onto the mattress. And Crowley let himself fall, closing his eyes, knowing that he would be caught, would be taken care of.

[j-hawthorn]

Books and Bubble Baths

Chapter one (read on AO3 - link posted as source)

Closing down the bookshop had an almost meditative feeling. The clock ticked over and Aziraphale turned the key in the ancient metal till. The draw popped out with gentle ping. Unfortunately, there had actually been customers. He methodically counted, then placed the coins and notes in little baggies.

The shop was silent, save for the ticking of the clock. With most of the lights switched off, the shadows deepened pleasantly. He took his time, savouring the feeling of a thousand books sighing and settling on the shelves. Being winter, the sun had set long ago and cool air leaked in through gaps in the old walls. Rain began to patter on windows, turning the street lights outside into mottled, ever shifting shapes.

It hadn’t been a bad day. A young gentleman had come in with a box of unwillingly inherited books. The boy hadn’t a single clue what he had, and while Aziraphale wasn’t going to swindle the poor lad, he certainly hadn’t paid anywhere near what the books were worth. He felt a small pang of guilt at that. But really, he’d saved the them from being dumped in a second-hand shop bin, or from sitting unloved on a shelf collecting dust. It wasn’t his fault the lad didn’t do a lick of research. Now the books could sit on his shelf where he could look at them admiringly.

Aziraphale pulled on his soft cotton gloves, and peeked into the box on his desk. They weren’t in the best condition but nothing a little love couldn’t fix. From the top drawer of the desk, Aziraphale pulled out a metal box. He flicked the latch, and set out his supplies. He rolled a length of cotton on the desk, placing the first book on top. The pages were a little yellowed on the edges and the cover had some odd dark marks, but all and all, not too bad. The angel dabbed a little eucalyptus oil on a soft cloth. He slowly wiped the marks away, happy in his work and breathing in the pleasant scent.

The shop door bell tinkled faintly. Yet the door was locked. The angel didn't look up. His heart, however, did an excited little flip. Aziraphale didn't stop taking the books out of the box even as pale arms snaked down over his shoulders. He smiled to himself, feeling the brush of hair on his cheek and the pleasing weight of Crowley leaning on him.

'Hello, Angel...' the demon purred, yawning softly.

'When you said you were going for a nap, dear boy, I didn't realise you meant for six months,' Aziraphale said, running a gloved finger down the books spine.

Crowley gave a throaty chuckle, 'Was tired.'

'Apparently so -' He shivered, feeling water dripping under his collar, '- If you drip on the books, by golly you'll be sorry! Aren’t you freezing?’ He turned in the embrace, staring directly into his reflection in demon’s sunglasses. His breath fogged the lenses, their noses barely an inch apart. Crowley looked a mess. Their hair was all over the place, clothing rumpled and drenched from the rain. They had the smell of sleep about them, soft yet oddly sour. Crowley slipped away, and the angel felt the absence like a sting.

The demon shrugged one shoulder, ‘S’ not too bad.’ Hand shoved in their jacket pocket they snooped around the shelves, long fingers walking along spines.

Aziraphale felt the distance slowly growing. He took a step forward, ‘You should have a bath and warm up. I could get us some dinner -’ Crowley cocked a brow and he sighed. ‘- Alright, get me some dinner and us some wine.’

‘What about your date there?’ The demon wiggled a finger at the box of books, ‘Looks to me like you had a full evening planned.’

‘They can wait -’

‘- Wouldn’t want to impose-’

‘- I missed you,’ Aziraphale said bluntly.

Crowley was still for a second before rubbing the back of their neck, ‘Gonna order in? I could murder a pork bun.’

‘As you wish, dear.’

Crowley slunk away to Aziraphale’s small flat. The angel listened to their steps fade, then slowly picked up the telephone handset. He waited in the shop for the delivery, hands on his knees. His chest felt tight. He wasn’t mad. Except that he really, really, was. They’d had gaps before, sometimes for decades. But after their little talk/confessions – and even though all they’d done was talk - he hadn’t expected a gap so soon, no matter how small. Their relationship had somehow shifted monumentally, yet also stayed exactly the same. It was just all a bit...new and raw. Which was a very strange feeling when you’ve known someone for thousands of years.

The rain was hammering down now. When the delivery person arrived, Aziraphale performed a minor miracle – the sweet girl would find that against all odds she was warm, dry and the little tip jar on the shop counter was fuller. He trotted up stairs.

His flat was small, but comfortable, and really just there for the look of it. With a thought he set the fire roaring, filling the living space with a wave of warmth. He could hear the flow of water from his ensuite, the door slightly ajar. Steam flowed in thick wisps.

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ He asked, popping on the jug.

'Nah, thanks though,’ Crowley called. They then gave a happy hiss followed by splashing water. From the sound of it, the demon had forgone their human body, the odd sloshing from the tub signifying that a very large serpent was now coiling in the heat. Aziraphale imagined their little snout poking out of the water and chuckled to himself. He went about setting the table, making himself a cup of tea. The world grew quiet once more. Aziraphale nursed his drink, listening to the rain and the occasional serpentine sigh.

He got to thinking how a few years ago, after some Hellish job, Crowley had come over, sat on the tile floor of Aziraphale's ensuite and taken scissors to their long red hair. They didn't need to cut it, with barely a thought the demon could change their appearance any which-way, but Aziraphale suspected it was the physicality of the act Crowley wanted. It was a rough job. The angel watched, and poured them both a glass of wine. He hadn’t offered to help. He’d simply waited, sipping his drink and leaned on the door frame.

Without turning Crowley had thrust the scissors at him. Taking the hint, the angel silently ran his fingers through the demon's hair, evening out the cut to something resembling tidy. Then they drank, yelled and joked about something inane, and never spoke of it.

But Aziraphale had found himself thinking about it these past months alone. His mind would drift to the feeling of his fingers running though their hair, or how they had leaned back against his legs, head falling forward, long legs bent awkwardly in front of them. How exposed the back of their neck had been and how he had found himself letting his fingers brush along the skin there, feeling the shift of bone under skin. Feeling how very real this creature was. And just how honoured he’d felt being allowed to be the one to touch them when they were vulnerable.

Aziraphale brought his curled forefinger to his lips and sighed. He’d felt far too alone these last few months, and -

‘I dreamt about you, you know,’ Crowley called from the bath.

The angel's stomach tightened, knocking from his thoughts. He looked up, staring at the door. 'Did you really?' He couldn't keep the excitement from his voice, a little hitch of breath.

'Yeah – wish it was dirtier though,' The demon snickered from the bath. Aziraphale rolled his eyes. The same old game. A cheeky comment here, a touch of skin there, but nothing would ever come of it. He’d wanted to kiss them that night, half a year ago. Fear held him back and now in its stead was regret. He ran his fingertip over the whorl in the tables grain, ignoring the heat in his cheeks. He was given blessed distraction with the worrying sound of cabinets opening and shutting.

'Oh ho ho, thought you could hide it from me, eh Angel?' Crowley began splashing again.

Aziraphale groaned, 'You always make such a mess! I wouldn't have to hide it if you had any semblance of self control.'

'I like the bubbles!' Crowley hissed.

'Keep them in the tub this time!'

Crowley laughed, unabashed and delightful. The sound was beautiful, and the angel couldn’t help but smile. Make a mess, he thought, it doesn’t matter. Just keep laughing.

'Angel?’ They called. ‘Do you ever get bored of these little human bodies?'

'I suppose so, dear, why?'

'I'm gonna have a switch up – I miss having tits.'

'Do you have to be so vulgar?'

They laughed again. Then the ugly sucking sound of the tub draining filled the flat. Crowley sidled barefoot into the main room, long legs bare. They had changed their body in subtle ways from masculine to a more feminine androgyny. The demon was wearing one of Aziraphale's cardigans, the plush (and expensive) garment swamping their thin body. A short black skirt hit them half way up the thigh, peeking out of the bottom of the jumper. They rolled the sleeves, giving the angel a crooked smile.

Aziraphale watched them snatch up the pork bun, container and all, and sit in front of the fire. Their dark red hair clung in wet whorls around their forehead and down their back. This was all very...domestic. And comfortable. He ate his food in silence, while the demon curled in front of the fireplace, watching the flames dance. The light reflected in their glasses. Crowley held the container in both hands, sighing softly, but not eating. Aziraphale knew it was something they did very rarely, like him with sleep, and he wondered if in all honesty Crowley only did it because he did.

The food wasn’t great. It wasn’t bad, he didn’t regret his choice of dumplings, but take out was never his favourite – it got too cold too fast and always smelled better than it tasted.

Aziraphale brought a bottle of wine and two glasses over to his armchair by the fire. He poured, and ignored the uncomfortably organic sound of Crowley lowering one half of their bottom jaw, then the other, gulping the bun down in one go – container along with it.

‘You’re going to give yourself a stomach ache,’ He tutted, crossing his legs.

Crowley wrinkled their nose, eyeing him over the rim of their wineglass, ‘Never have, never will.’ They smirked, curling their legs under themself.

The two of them fell back into old patterns of loose laughter, and loose limbs. Soon the pair were onto their second bottle of wine, the flat hot and the world forgotten.

The top button of Crowley's cardigan was undone and the soft wool slumped down, revealing one pale, bony shoulder. The demon was talking, hands waving in the air, but Aziraphale wasn't listening. He watched as a bead of water from their still damp hair trailed down their neck, and along their prominent collarbone. He peeled his eyes away, focusing now on the flush of his companion's cheeks, the way the colour met the tips of their ears. And how as they smiled, giggling at their own joke, he wasn't upset at their absence. How could he be, when this beautiful creature, who once built entire galaxies now sat with their arm draped over his knee and snorted when they laughed?

'Uh, hello?' Crowley waved a hand in front of his eyes. 'Are you fucking ignoring me?' The demon huffed, head cocked to one side, 'Rude. And here I was pouring my weaselly little heart out, laying prostrate at your feet, dear Angel, and you weren't even bloody paying attention!'

Aziraphale flushed red, 'Oh I am sorry, dear boy, I was...distracted.'

'Oh well, that's fine then,' they scoffed, throwing their hands up. 'I'm not going to repeat myself, so I hope it was worth it-'

'-You are,' He said softly.

Crowley paused, a loose lock of hair falling over their face, 'What? No. Really? No... Piss off, Angel.'

Aziraphale chuckled. He leaned forward and gently tucked their hair behind their ear. Even through the sunglasses he could feel the fire-hot touch of their eyes on his skin. They'd stopped breathing as soon as he touched them. What an intense, flighty thing they were. Like a coiled spring. He could almost hear their internal scolding of ‘don’t go too fast, don’t go too fast...’ He could read it in their body language, as if they could curl this human body like a snake about to strike.

He removed their glasses with reverential care. The demon averted their gaze, their eyes a fraction too big for their face. Aziraphale feared he would always be in awe of how hot Crowley burned inside, and just how much he wanted to feel that heat.

‘Why haven’t you done a miracle and dried your hair?’ He asked, folding his arms on his knees.

‘Dunno. Just letting it do it’s own thing, I guess...’

‘May I, dear? I could give it a brush, if you like?’

‘Oh,’ Crowley fussed at the cardigan, forked tongue appearing briefly to touch the corner of their mouth. They smiled softly.

‘Indulge me?’

‘Don’t I always...’ They whispered in a breath. Crowley turned, pressing their back against his legs. The words hung in the air, and Aziraphale wondered if he was even supposed to have heard them.

He ran his fingers through their hair, a hairbrush appearing on his lap. With each gentle run of his hand, their hair dried, settling in waves. Soft. Their hair was always so soft and easily tangled. Crowley slumped against his leg, cheek pressed to his knee. They had looped an arm around his lower leg.

'There,' He whispered, giving their shoulders a squeeze. 'Now you're perfect.'

Crowley tilted their head back to look at him, their neck contorting in such a manner that if they'd been human would mean instant death. Aziraphale bit back a grimace, 'Oh, uh, darling...?'

The demon's head snapped back round, 'Right...bones.' They snorted, scrambling to their feet. Swaying a little, Crowley looped a lock of hair around their finger, ‘Nice job. Very femme -’

‘- I should have kissed you,’ Aziraphale said with a sigh.

‘- What? When?’ Crowley asked softly, wrinkling their nose.

Aziraphale stood, moving to take a step, ‘On your last visit. I wanted to, but – Oh!’ He tripped, shoes tied together.

Crowley caught him. They grinned, pointed teeth on display, ‘So you’ve fallen for me, then?’

The angel stared up at them, eyes wide. ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ He yelled, batting at their shoulder. Crowley hooted with laughter, head thrown back. Aziraphale grabbed a cushion off the armchair, lobbing it at the hysterical demon. They’d doubled over, arms wrapped around their middle. With a quick motion of his hand Aziraphale whisked away the offending footwear, throwing his arms up, ‘Goodness gracious! You absolute nightmare.’

‘Oh nooo,’ Crowley cooed, sidling over to him. They touched his arm, making him turn to face them, ‘I sorry, Angel.’ Large yellow eyes blinked innocently, and the demon pouted, head cocked to one side. Aziraphale looked away, huffing dramatically. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying desperately not to laugh.

Crowley ran their fingers along his shoulders, feeling the wool tweed of his waistcoat. They fiddled with the collar of his button up, and Aziraphale bit his lip. They were standing so close. He could smell his soap on them, hear their breathing. His heart pounded in his chest. A cold hand touched his cheek.

Aziraphale looked up into those strange yellow eyes, and felt the world shift. Nothing else mattered right now, there was nothing in the world that meant more to him than this, was as real.

‘Gosh, but you are a beautiful thing,’ He whispered.

Crowley rolled their exquisite eyes, ‘You’ve already caught me, you know. You don’t have to keep flattering me.’

‘Yes. I do,’ Aziraphale, said softly. Then he smirked, feeling a little thrill, ‘Wait...I’ve caught you, have I?’ He placed his hands on Crowley’s waist.

Crowley clicked their tongue with a curled lip, lowering their hands to his chest, cheeks flushing red. They sucked in a sharp breath. The angel wrapped his arms around them, holding them against his body. They locked eyes. Then Aziraphale placed a gentle hand on their cheek, and closed the space between them.

[shipaholic]

Omens Universe, Chapter 13 Part 2

Nearly made it to Alpha Centauri!

Warnings for this chapter: the terrifying vastness of space; vertigo; and more child endangerment than we’ve seen so far.

Link to next part at the end.

(From the beginning)

(last part)

(chrono)

---

Chapter 13, cont.

Of all the infinite spaces they’d found themselves in recently, this one truly made each of them feel small.

Nebulae crackled in the corner of their eyes. Comets sparked across the heavens like distant fireworks. There were stars, billions upon billions of stars, a riotous tumble of them. And planets, cold and grand, passing by like ships.

Aziraphale had never been here before. For the life of him, he had no idea why. No - perhaps he was afraid of the vastness. Of feeling engulfed.

He leaned, half-consciously, towards Crowley. Their fingers brushed. Slowly, as if moving underwater, Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s hand.

Aziraphale tore his eyes away from the magnitude of space and looked at Crowley. He was in profile, lips slightly parted. His eyes shone with starlight. Aziraphale wanted to kiss him and keep watching him forever. He remembered Crowley had probably seen this room before. Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of years in the past. Perhaps it hit him harder to come back than Aziraphale to see it for the first time.

“Did I ever mention I helped build some of these?” Crowley whispered.

“Yes, dear,” Aziraphale whispered back. His heart brimmed over.

He happened to know the only part of Her creation missing from this room was the Earth. That was because it was on the top floor. He saw it the last time he presented his weekly report to Gabriel, floating in the air like a large, sedate disco ball. They would all use it in three days' time to transport themselves to Earth for Armageddon. Every angel in Christendom, pouring out of the sky.

Aziraphale peered around. There didn’t seem to be much of a filing system in here. Maybe all he had to do was…

“Alpha Centauri?” he said.

It was like going for a gentle stroll and accidentally stepping off a skyscraper.

Space lurched. The detritus of the universe streaked towards him, and past him before he could think about screaming. Two blue dots came out of the darkness like all-knowing eyes that meant the end of all things. They expanded until they were the size of suns, filling his vision, pinning him under their gaze, until with a heart-stopping wrench -

It all stopped.

Space was still again. The binary star system of Alpha Centauri lay before them, winking blue.

Aziraphale shook off the feeling he’d just freefall dived from a million miles up. He glimpsed Crowley’s face, and got a sudden idea of what it must have felt like for him, before all this happened. The Fall. He squeezed Crowley’s hand. Crowley’s eyes were glazed. Slowly, he came back to himself and squeezed back.

Aziraphale remembered, a fraction later than he should have, to check on Adam.

The boy’s face was white with exhilaration. “Wicked,” he whispered to himself.

Spacedog yipped and scratched his flank with his cybernetic back leg. His ears jiggled inside his fishbowl helmet. He didn’t look impressed. Aziraphale supposed he was made for this environment. Then he went back to deliberately ignoring Spacedog, because while Spacedog’s existence was remarkable, Aziraphale found him far too ridiculous to dwell on.

“We want Proxima Centauri B,” he said.

This time they all braced themselves. There was a relatively short, painless lurch forward as the room zoomed in on the planet orbiting one sun, Proxima Centauri. The planet was pockmarked like porous stone. It turned ponderously in the light from its star.

“Oh!” Crowley leaned forward in wonder. He pointed down at the craggy little planet. “I remember this! This one was one of mine.”

Aziraphale watched him puff out his chest and smiled.

“Yup. I totally helped with this one. Well. I looked over the plans. Well. I graffitied a rude word in some space dust.” Crowley paused. “They probably took it out.”

“How lovely,” Aziraphale said, dryly.

This was it. Triumph rang through his head. He was about to become an outer space fugitive. He couldn’t believe they’d got this far. There was only one step left, and they were home free. Or… not home. Not yet. But definitely free.

“Crowley, do you trust me?”

Crowley’s head snapped round. “That’s a funny question at this stage,” he said, sounding perturbed.

“Sorry. I need to be sure, though, or this next part won’t work.”

Crowley’s golden eyes regarded him.

“I trust you, angel.”

Aziraphale turned to face him. Crowley did the same, mirroring him. Aziraphale caught his other hand, holding them both, bare and gloved.

“Fuse with me.”

Relief lifted Crowley’s face.

“Oh, thank Satan. I was worried for a moment.”

Aziraphale gave a chuckle. “Sorry for being dramatic. I wasn’t -”

He broke off. He hadn’t been sure. If Crowley had truly forgiven him, yet. It would be understandable if he needed more time.

Apparently not. Crowley was attempting to loosen up in the receptionist’s tailored trousers. He stretched his inhumanly bendy spine, wiggled his snaky hips. It would have been rather alluring if Crowley wasn’t, as Aziraphale well knew, an awful dancer. It still was quite alluring, actually.

“Remember how to do this?” Crowley grinned.

“Of course. Like riding a velocipede.”

Crowley groaned and laughed. He began… a kind of shimmy, Aziraphale supposed. It was very wriggly. It had a slight drunk-wedding-guest-cum-gay-bar aspect, not that he’d been to a wedding or a gay bar in over eighty years.

Now that push came to shove, he felt rather foolish doing this in front of an audience. He avoided looking anywhere near Adam and broke into a modified Gavotte.

They danced towards each other. They were taking it slower than the urgency of the situation asked for, if he was being honest. But it was thrilling, the build up without touching, the coy flashes of eye contact. Aziraphale felt Crowley’s body heat through his silk blouse. Crowley’s long, skinny chest wiggled inches away from him. His gem glowed softly, like it was warming up.

Aziraphale clasped his arm, and his own gem flared.

They melted together.

Zadkiel stumbled out, wide-eyed and flushed.

“Wow. I need to get a room.”

He noticed Adam.

“Ummmm. Hello there. We’ve sort-of met, sort-of haven’t. I’m Zadkiel.” He held out his hand.

Adam glared as he took it. Some weird grown-up stuff had just happened, and he was ready to zip away from it at the speed of light.

“They just… turned into you,” he said.

“Yup.”

“They’re really bad dancers.”

“So am I!”

“Right. Why’d they do that, then?”

“Well… they’ve been apart for a while, and while they’re not human, as you know, er, I know for your species the whole dancing thing can be something of a mating ritual… has anyone ever given you the Talk?”

Adam looked deeply disgusted.

“Why’d they turn into you?” he asked, in slow, measured tones.

“Oh! So they can’t track us.” Zadkiel flashed a grin. “The people we’re running away from can tell whenever Aziraphale or Crowley use their powers - their alien powers, that is - but I don’t show up on their, errr, alien scanner things. So they can’t follow us to Proxima Centauri.”

This was going to require a lot of discipline, he realised. If they wanted to be good intergalactic space fugitives - and Zadkiel absolutely did - there would have to be no more performing of miracles unless fused from now on. One thoughtless snap of the fingers from either of them, and it would all be over. Zadkiel hoped the other two were up to it.

He squared up to the orbiting planet below.

“Enough explanation. It’s time to go. Are you ready?”

Adam nodded. The blue lights of Alpha Centauri shone in his eyes.

“Brilliant. Hold on to my arm and don’t let go no matter what.”

Adam scooped up Spacedog,[1] along with the Book, and looped his spare arm through Zadkiel’s. He may have shown up unexpectedly, but he was a reassuringly large presence.

Zadkiel performed the ritual on himself and Adam. Nobody needed to leave their gems behind accidentally at this stage. He guessed it would be messy in Adam’s case.

“Here we go -”

Zadkiel reached out.

His fingertips dissolved as they neared the planet. Then his whole body melted into a stream of atoms, and this really was a freefall, dimensions compressing around him, his body stretching back miles, stars streaking across his vision. He was made of mist and he was rushing through a cold tunnel faster than any living thing had ever moved

~*~

They popped out at the other end, mouths agape like fish.

The first thing was the silence.

It was crushing and absolute. It was the silence of a void. A sea of darkness full of pinpricks of light that only made the darkness more infinite. He remembered, from two different perspectives, rowing across a lake that had been like this.

Then, the planet.

It spread out below him. A hard, mountainous, canyon-pocked waste-scape. He could see where it curved, the crescent of light like the rind of an orange. He could see the shimmering corona of its atmosphere. He could see the granite and sandstone and marsh-coloured patches of its body, all merging like a paintbox left out in the rain.

He had never seen anything like it. A new world. Untouched. Alien.

He had to admit it was a cracking view.

Adam’s fingers dug into his arm. The green dog yipped at a hysterical pitch.

Zadkiel looked down at the boy and noticed the third thing.

Adam gasped for breath that wouldn’t come. He stared into Zadkiel’s eyes, terrified, as his lips turned blue.

---

[1] Neither of Zadkiel’s components knew what to make of the dog. They’d each secretly hoped that fusing would bring some wisdom on the subject. Zadkiel was happy to report: nope. The dog thing was really weird.

(Link to next part)

[impishnature]

Neither Can I

AO3 Fandom: Good Omens Rating: G Summary: Dance with me. A/N: @sightkeeper has been keeping me sane and happy with lovely dancing images and it just gave me a sweet self-indulgent fluff idea I had to share in the hopes it would do the same for everyone else.

.

The room held a soft hush that he wasn't sure it ever had before.

Sure there had been quiet moments, peaceful ones even. 

But never quite this.

Aziraphale glanced up from his book, his shoulders relaxing further as he took in Crowley basking on the sofa. He was sprawled, as if he had at one point been sitting properly before he'd slid down and refused to care about propping himself back up. A beam of sunlight stretched across the fabric, illuminating the bright fire of his curls and the liquid gold of his eyes and for a moment the angel was captivated enough not to notice that the other was staring right back at him. There was still something serpentine about his poise and grace, as if his muscles had moved without thought to put him in as much as the light as they could, warming him inside and out, and even as Aziraphale wondered if that was the reasoning behind it, he definitely wasn't complaining at the view it afforded him.

"Like what you see?"

Aziraphale blinked, eyes zoning back to Crowley's face with a start. He could feel the heat on his cheeks as he turned back to his book. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He was pretty sure he could have come up with something wittier if he'd given it more thought. Unfortunately, he'd been rather... distracted.

He was pretty sure Crowley was physically warming his face from the heat that radiated from the chair across from him. 

It amplified as a bright chuckle hissed around the room at his response.

Yes, it was all definitely softer than it had been before.

It felt like everything had been a rush up until now. Clandestine meetings, even in broad daylight, held frequently but quickly. It wouldn't do to be caught in one another's presence as much as they enjoyed it. So they had held one another at arms length, always a distance, always a level of professionalism to keep them aloof. Or at least they had tried, forever looking over shoulders in an attempt to hide from the rest of the world what they struggled to hide from themselves. 

Now... they could take their time. They could enjoy one another's company without the fear of retribution.

He could sit with his books and with Crowley and really, was there anything more he could ask for?

He closed his eyes for a brief second, trying to sort out the short circuiting in his brain and cool down the heat in his cheeks before letting his eyes drift once more to the page.

Strangely though, the heat intensified, burning like two dots into his face.

He was being watched.

His eyes flicked up again, catching Crowley's expression, head propped up on one arm languidly. It was so open, endeared affection and delight easily distinguishable in his gaze and his smile.

He wasn't sure he'd ever seen him that open before.

"What?"

He couldn't help it. It was almost embarrassing to be looked at like that.

"What 'what'?" Crowley raised an eyebrow at him, head tilting ever so slightly and Aziraphale couldn't help the word cute popping up in his head though he made sure not to say it out loud. 

Aziraphale sighed, trying for irritated but he knew it came out as fond as Crowley's smile widened into something he was more used to. "You're staring."

"I know."

Dear God, he could be a pain. A cute, exasperating pain, but a pain nonetheless.

His eyes were sparkling with glee, absolutely ecstatic to be teasing him in a way that wouldn't end in an argument for the both of them. 

And Aziraphale couldn't find it in him to be agitated in anyway by it. 

Well, other than being absolutely smitten by the silence laughter vibrating through the others shoulders.

And if Crowley was going to be an utter tease then he was sure he was rather entitled to act oblivious to it all.

"Is there something on my face?" He dropped his book to his lap, hands flittering across his skin, making a show as Crowley continued to stare at him with that quiet happiness.

"No." Crowley sat up then, pushing himself into a proper seated position and Aziraphale found he was rather disappointed that the game was ending so soon.

"Then-"

"Dance with me."

It was Aziraphale's turn to stare, though rather more in disbelief and bafflement. Crowley didn't seem phased however, pushing off of the sofa and stretching up, once again distracting the angel by the slip of skin that became visible at his midriff at the action. He pulled his eyes away and back to Crowley's knowing smirk, flustered and indignant as he closed his book to take in what he had asked in it's entirety. 

"Ex-Excuse me?"

Crowley's smirk widened, shortening the distance between them with a few long steps. His movements were unhurried, his demeanour nonchalant as he stood before him. He straightened his collar, took the book from Aziraphale's grip and placed it on the arm of the chair before returning his gaze back to Aziraphale's. 

He extended his hand before him, an invitation or perhaps more of a request.

"Dance with me."

Instead Aziraphale placed his hand on his chest, shocked by it all. He tried to ignore his fluttering heart at the charm and confidence that the other was exuding.

"Dance? Crowley, don't be ridiculous."

He didn't like how Crowley's expression fell. He wasn't actually denying him, not really, he just didn't understand where all of this had come from.

"Why not?"

"Because..." He didn't actually have an answer for that. There was no real reason to say no. "Well, for a start, you can't dance."

"Neither can you." 

The light was back in his eyes. Aziraphale could practically feel his feathers get ruffled up as Crowley raised an eyebrow, practically daring him to argue that point. 

But even he knew that as proud as he was of learning that dance many years ago, it was rather... outdated. 

It was also not really conducive for the kind of dancing that he was sure Crowley meant.

Instead of answering at all, Aziraphale took in his expression. Where had all of this come from? His expression was so open and yet there was something there that he couldn't quite distinguish. Was it excitement? Anticipation? Or just pure unfiltered amusement?

It was starting to tinge with something more awkward though the longer he sat silently, the smile was slipping even as hard as he tried to paste it there, regret filtering in to dampen gleaming eyes.

"C-Come on, Angel. No ones watching. Dance with me."

Oh.

Oh.

That's what it was.

It was freedom.

Pure release, pure openness that he hadn't been able to read.

Crowley was at peace, he could act on his spur of the moment thoughts and just be.

And wasn't that a gorgeous sight? To just be and live and love?

He wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything as beautiful.

Aziraphale smiled at him, watched as his own smile returned as he accepted the hand but made no move to actually stand.

"There's no music-"

It was filtering through the bookcases from some unseen place as the words left his mouth. A chuckle escaped him at the quickness of the miracle, as if Crowley was jumping on the chance before Aziraphale could change his mind.

Their hands were still held tightly between them, neither of them making a move, Crowley waiting patiently for Aziraphale to catch up.

"Alright. But I'm reminding you now that I can't dance."

Crowley grinned, bright and bold and Aziraphale could feel the same tugging at his own lips. He pulled him up into his arms, their faces close and the distance between them broken.

"Good, neither can I."

[shesthewindandsea]

all the things I would do

Summary: “It’s alright, dear,” she would say. “It’ll be alright.” But there was no reassuring voice and there was no hand to calm her and so instead Crowley screamed and sobbed and cursed everyone above and below that she could name.

A Good Omens retelling of the Greek Myth of Orpheus (Crowley) and Eurydice (Aziraphale). There's nothing above or below that's going to stop Crowley from getting her nymph back.

Beginning Notes: Okay so lets try this again. First off, I literally cannot believe this is actually done. I started it way back in November and now here we are. I’ve been sitting on it for so long I’m so happy to get it off my computer. Now if you don’t know Orpheus and Eurydice is a myth about a human man with a gorgeous singing voice (Orpheus) who falls in love with a nymph (Eurydice). They get married and all the gods are very supportive of their union! Human men though, not so much and it quickly goes downhill from there. I tried to stick to the original myth as much as I could so temporary character death plays a major role in this story but I had to give them a happy ending so it’s worth it, I promise! As always the title is taken from a Hozier song, Talk, and the lyrics are actually mainly focused on the myth! The vibe from the song and the meaning behind it though are very different from my story but it’s still go to listen to so I highly recommend. And if you’re a fan of Sappho then you’re in luck because I have a bunch of Sappho fragments in here as Crowley’s songs because if you’re writing about lesbians in Ancient Greece you can’t not have Sappho. There are two that are straight up Sappho and one that’s a combo. You’ll know it when you see it. I might be writing temp character death but I’m not a monster. Lastly, and most importantly, thank you to @poetic----nonsense who betaed a good chunk of this and is overall just a wonderful human being who I love very much. 

                                                            ~

  “Would you sing me a song?” She asked, as if her nymph’s voice itself were not a song to be wept over, an offering to encourage the skies, the stars, the moon, and the Gods themselves. Crowley wanted for nothing but to feel the question against her lips and taste the honey that dripped from them. As if Crowley wouldn’t leap at the chance to please her nymph.

    “Mm, you’ll have to let me think of one, my love,” Crowley teased and her nymph smiled, hand squeezing tighter for a moment. Crowley tore her gaze away from Aziraphale for a moment to look to the stars poking through the dark sky above the hill, as if they would give her the answers she needed.

   Crowley knew hundreds of songs, the songs she had heard in her days of wandering through villages, mingling among common people. She listened to their work songs, their songs of love, their songs of sorrow sung over open graves. She knew the songs of the Gods — the ones that pleased them and ones that sated them and the ones she wasn’t supposed to know. And Crowley, of course, knew her own songs. Half formed melodies hummed to the trees in the forest. Their roots would dance beneath her feet and the ground thrummed with their movement. She’d whisper words to the waves licking her bare toes as she stood facing the sea and the gulls would cry back their pleasure. She could make flowers bloom and the sun shine and the moon smile. 

    And yet to sing a song of her love for Aziraphale seemed the most daunting task she had ever faced. What words could ever speak of such devotion, could begin to describe the choking feeling in her throat and the fullness in her stomach that only came from being with her immortal wife? The best singer in all of Greece, in all the world, could not even begin to form a single verse that could accurately communicate them. And she was; Crowley was the best singer in all of Greece and yet this ability escaped her. She could but only try. 

Keep reading on AO3 or

   And so try she did. The only other option was to leave her dear nymph without a song to enjoy as they held hands under the night sky and that simply wouldn’t do.

   “You know many songs, both those of the Gods and those of man, dearest. Do be quick about your decision. We haven’t got all night after all.” 

   Crowley’s mouth twisted up in a wry smile as her wife propped herself up on her elbow, a delicate pink cheek resting in her palm, and yet her other hand did not release its grip on Crowley’s. 

    “Perhaps not. I may not be able to sing for you after all. To think of the perfect song for you requires time that I don’t have. I may have to use my voice to serenade Gaia first, allow me some borrowed time so I may find the right words,” Crowley pondered out loud, while Aziraphale sent her a chastising look. She released Crowley’s hand for a moment to give it a gentle pat in admonishment. Their new rings clinked together softly — ringing in the cold night time air and floating up towards the stars overhead — and Crowley vowed to memorize the pitch for a later use.

   “I won’t hear of such things. Anything you choose will be perfect, so long as you are the one singing it. You could sing of the most morbid and morose things and I would be none the wiser. Your voice makes me forget everything I know.” 

   “Not everything, I hope. I pray you never forget me.” Crowley pinched the pudgy skin of her wife’s palm and before she could raise a fuss, Crowley was brushing her lips over the flesh there, like a petal dancing over the surface of a pond. 

   “I would never. Should you continue to prolong my wait, though, I may consider changing my mind. Do get on with it, dear.” 

   Crowley quickly sat up with a dramatic gasp and a hand to her chest. “Why I never!”

   “Crowley.”

   “Yes, of course, beautiful.” Crowley cooed with a smirk. Even so, she continued to mess about for a few short moments, feigning some important preparation before another stern look from her wife forced her to begin her song.

    The most haunting notes and devoted lyrics slipped like wine over Crowley’s lips. She sang of the sweetest apple being left on the upper-most branch waiting to be sampled by only the most devoted taster, her lover ready to savor its sweetness. Of the flowers — pink, purple, and white — waving in the wind atop a hill only to be worn down by the bare feet of shepherds, trodden into the ground while waiting to be plucked. And everything slowed for a moment — the world stopped spinning, the wind stopped blowing, and the light of the stars traveling across the vast empty darkness froze in its tracks — to listen with all the attentiveness of which they were capable. The utter love and fidelity ingrained in the very essence of even such a mournful tale enraptured all that could hear.

    Aziraphale, of course, in the face of such unwavering emotion, was trapped in Crowley’s gaze like a fly in honey, eyes never wavering for even a moment in an effort to show her godly lover the sincerity of it all. Here are my feelings, laid naked and bare in the grass for you. Pick them apart. I hide nothing from you. 

   She doesn’t need to, though. Aziraphale can feel every note wash over her like the scent of spring riding a breeze or a raindrop trailing its way down one of her oak leaves. And it made her feel like she held the light of Crowley’s love in her hands. Like she could feel its heat and warmth. It was like nothing else she had ever known before.

   As Crowley continued to sing and Aziraphale continued to blossom under her praise, her power flowing through her less like a stream and more like a river. Her fingertips tingled with the force of it. Natural elements around them began shifting as some Aziraphale’s power leaked out of her skin. The grass around them suddenly grew long enough to tickle the skin of their ankles, wrists, the soles of their feet, all unclothed and vulnerable. The air suddenly tasted of anthemion and smelled of fresh fog steaming off a pond in the early morning. 

   And Crowley was just as entranced by Aziraphale’s power and unearthly beauty as Aziraphale was of her voice. So she continued to sing to please her wife, her voice a prayer and the words a dedication trickling like the juice of a peach over her lips and chin. Fire raced under skin every moment she held Aziraphale’s graze, every moment her love appeared more unhuman-like. More like a delicate flower bursting from a human body.

   “And lovely laughing — oh it

   Puts the heart in my chest on wings

   For when I look at you, a moment, then no speaking 

   Is left in me”

  There were a million words, a million combinations of those words Crowley would sing to her in a million different ways if only her breath would allow it. But she was, after all, only human and so her breath ran out and her tongue dried and her cheeks reddened like the setting sun and she was grasping Aziraphale’s shoulders so tightly that she feared she may cause her pain. So she stopped and collapsed into Aziraphale’s open arms.

   “My goodness, are you quite all right?” Aziraphale asked with no small amount of concern in her voice. Crowley’s head rested on Aziraphale’s chest. She could hear the nymph’s heart thumping softly in her chest while her round, heavy arms encircled her and the weight of them offered a kind of warm comfort that could come from nowhere else.

   “Mm, yeah. ‘M good,” she offered weakly, much too occupied with trying to fit her arms around Aziraphale’s plush middle while keeping her head pillowed on the nymph’s chest..

    “Are you sure? You’re very out of breath.” Her arms moved up and down Crowley’s back in an effort to soothe and relax her, coax her back to breathing slower. 

   “Sure I’m sure. Wanted to keep going is all,” Crowley murmured, finally interlocking her fingers behind Aziraphale’s back and squeezing as close as she could get. Aziraphale refrained from commenting for the moment and just held her close. “Wanted to sing your praises.”

   “Yes, well. You can’t do that if you pass out, now can you?” One hand continued to lightly trace over the pattern of freckles on Crowley’s exposed shoulders where the strap of her chiton had slipped off. The other wandered lower under the fabric, seeking out the soft skin of her back.

   “Suppose so.” Crowley replied, her voice wispy and eyelids growling heavy.

   “Why don’t we head home? It’s getting awfully late.” Without waiting for a response, Aziraphale moved Crowley to her liking before picking her up in her arms. Crowley merely hummed and allowed herself to be carried back towards their forest home, her head resting in the dip between Aziraphale’s neck and shoulder while lazily kissing under her chins and behind her ear. 

                                                        ~ 

    The world was still quite dark when Aziraphale woke the next morning. The moon had very nearly finished her journey across the sky while the sun had just begun his, the blackness of the sky slowly giving way to a blaze of fiery colors. The mingled light drifted softly into the room through the window and danced across both bodies still curled together, kissing skin and running its fingers through long strands of hair both red and white, despite Aziraphale’s apparent wakefulness. 

   Of the two of them, Aziraphale more frequently woke first — she did not need to sleep as her human companion did, though this never stopped her from remaining with Crowley until she woke. The cool air of a summer night made Crowley’s warm body wrapped around her own very enticing, so Aziraphale often found herself willing to lay awake, clinging to Crowley’s arm around her waist, until the moon fully gave way to the strength of the sun’s light. Then she would allow herself to probe further, both hands and lips slowly growing more incessant until Crowley groaned her way into the world, horribly burdened with the task of responding to her nymph’s need for reciprocation.

    “It’s only fair,” she’d say, eyes shining with mirth, and of course it sounded perfectly reasonable to Crowley when it was put like that; so she’d press her own smile to Aziraphale’s lips before moving to her cheeks and forehead and chins and down her neck. 

    Now, though, Aziraphale could only smile fondly upon the many memories she had floating around her head as she gently lifted Crowley’s arm from around her. She had different plans for this morning. Yesterday had been such a lovely day, wedding and all, and such an event should only be followed by a perfectly lovely morning of warm air and green grass, beautiful blossoms and fruitful trees to accompany their typical porridge breakfast.

    Of course, this meant venturing out into the wood before light rather than gently prompting the fig trees in the garden to finish their bounty perhaps a bit soon. Crowley became ever so disheartened when Aziraphale meddled with her garden. A mere thought could quickly encourage every flower in the courtyard garden into full blossom. She suspected it was a matter of pride for Crowley — working the soil with nothing but her own hands and stubbornness — though that certainly didn’t stop Aziraphale from offering a bit of helpful advice and encouragement. Crowley didn’t seem to mind that much. 

   So Aziraphale quickly and quietly dressed, not bothering with putting her hair up with all her ribbons and ties, creeping through the house while carefully dodging the floorboards she knew creaked, and out the door. A bit of damp night air weaved through the shadows cast on the ground by the weak light of the moon. Aziraphale had spent many years among the faerie folk of the wood and water surrounding their home, certainly no coincidence by any means, and so she had little fear of those who lay beyond their house, even in the cover of night. 

   She wandered about mindlessly, no particular path set in front of her, instead moving about the trees whispering loving encouragements about how wonderful they were all doing and how beautiful they were and could they maybe spare a few flowers come morning? She knew it wasn’t the right season but wouldn’t it just be wonderful? The grass beneath her feet grew, laughing, as it stretched to caresses the calloused bottoms of her feet. The flowers that tasted light, airy, and sweet when paired with hot water waved shyly up at her as she strode by. The trees whispered amongst themselves across the breeze. 

   It was all so wondrously beautiful. She was tempted, for a moment, to go back to her house, crawl into bed and gently wake Crowley as she always did even if it was, perhaps, a bit early; the stars shone so brightly tonight even in the fading darkness and Crowley absolutely adored the stars. It would ruin her surprise, though, and Crowley did seem awfully tired after so much singing earlier that day. There was also the matter of the surprise. The look on Crowley’s face when Aziraphale led her out into a groove of wild fig trees and oak blossoms was too good to pass up.

   Not yet time to wake her, then. The stars would always be there for her lovely new wife to see another night. But as Aziraphale stood there watching the sky, it became clear that she had not as much time left as she first thought. The stars were starting in blink out, one by one, and the yellow of the sun was largely overpowering the pale light of the moon. It was time to begin her journey back home. And though she felt some sadness leaving the forest behind for now, just as the stars would be there for Crowley every night, the forest would be there for Aziraphale and she could enjoy it anytime she liked — perhaps even with Crowley’s company next time.

  Besides, she had a whole journey back to appreciate everything around her and look forward to waking Crowley soft and slow.

                                                         ~ 

   Aziraphale had made it about half way —  she’d be back just as the moon disappeared and the sun took over — when something suddenly felt very wrong. The air felt thick and heavy; the wind whipped about her, blowing her hair in every which direction and obscuring her sight; everything felt dark despite the growing glow of the sun arcing through the sky.

   Aziraphale never had reason to fear the forest or any of its inhabitants before and even now she did not believe it was one of them that intended harm.

   Mortals, however, were very dangerous. The Gods may have blessed and rejoiced Aziraphale and Crowley’s recent marriage, but the mortals were not so unanimous in their support. After all, the beauty and power of a nymph paired with Crowley’s enchanted singing and playing, there was certain to be resentment among some. Aziraphale feared losing Crowley above all else.

   That wasn’t something she was willing to risk, so she stood her ground, looking for the cause of all the discontent amongst her forest friends. Through the tangled mess of hair flying around her, she could see him, a man, standing there not but a few steps away. He was dressed in luxurious fabrics and his eyes an odd color, some light shade of purple.

  “Come with me,” He spoke plainly, as though discussing the quality of fruit at the market this season. 

   “You,” she started, voice quivering a bit. She wrung her hands in her lap. Aziraphale didn’t actually know the man very well, but they’d met before when Crowley had only just begun courting Aziraphale. Something had always been off with him. Aziraphale knew she had an influence over men to some extent, not one she could control of course, but the way they all looked at her, it made her cringe. Even still, this man in particular, the man with the purple eyes, stood out among them. The way he looked at her was almost predatory. Like he knew she’d be his one day. 

   Like all he had to do was wait. 

   She never bothered telling Crowley about it. Sightings of him were few and far in-between. And what were they to do — a singing woman and a nymph — to confront an obviously well-off man? It was better to live with the relatively minor discomfort than to put both Crowley and herself in harm's way.

   “Come with me,” he said again, soft now in an attempt to persuade her, and he held out a hand to her. “I can take care of you in a way different, better, than the woman with you now.” 

   He took a step forward and smiled like he was hiding something behind his teeth. It made Aziraphale sick.

   “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m here. I’ll take you away from that wretched woman.” He took another step forward.

   “You know not of which you speak.”  

   The man’s smile faltered for a moment. 

   “I will not go-” Aziraphale bit out before he cut her off. Her hands suddenly clenched tight at her sides.

   “If you do not come willing I have no choice but to take you and kill her.” 

   “-anywhere with you.” she sneered and continued on. “Not now and not ever.” 

   Finally the man’s smile dropped away completely. He looked absolutely furious. 

   “You know nothing of our love. I expect you never will and for that I am truly sorry. But you speak of ownership, not companionship. I would never leave her and you cannot take her from me.” Without another word, Aziraphale hiked up her skirt and turned, bolting down the path, hoping to reach home and warn Crowley before that awful man could get to her.

   It didn’t take long for her to hear hurried footsteps come after her. She made a quick decision and turned off the path into the trees.

   She threw an arm behind her with an apology on her lips. Tree branches bent to help obscure the path. The slash of a sword and shattering wood rung in her ears. She could see her home in the distance and began to scream for Crowley, over and over, her voice shrill and breaking. Tears stung her eyes and her heart was pounding faster than it ever had before and her lungs were heaving so heavily that they burned. She heard the man —  shouting, swearing, slashing at the barriers the forest had built for her — somewhere in the distance behind her. She had glanced back for only a moment, but a moment was all it took. 

   She tumbled to the ground. A sharp pain throbbed around her ankle and then it was suddenly giving out underneath her. She let out a shrill cry just before her head cracked against the hard ground.

   A snake bite, no doubt, and a venomous one at that judging by the localized pain and how she very suddenly felt like she was going to vomit.

   Her head hitting the ground certainly wasn’t doing anything to help. The light of the forest was blinding now and everything had begun to spin and blur with such intensity that Aziraphale thought she’d soon be ill. She tried to get to her feet, to get moving again, but she was on the ground again before she could even stand. Both of her legs ached. She didn’t have long. There was nothing to be done for her.

   Oh, but Crowley. All Aziraphale’s worries weighed heavy on her mind as she laid there on the forest floor. What would Crowley think when she wakes to see Aziraphale’s side of the bed long since cold and empty? What would she do when Aziraphale hasn’t returned by mid-day with no clues to indicate her whereabouts? What sort of dreadful things would race through her mind when Crowley found her empty body only a short stroll from their home? Aziraphale could hardly stand to think of such things. To leave the love of her life so soon without even a simple ‘good-bye’ would break her heart.

   And it was with that thought that Aziraphale found a final burst of strength and stubbornness — and, of course, love — and hauled herself up from the ground. She managed to grab a large branch to lean on and began hobbling forward as best she could in her weakened state. 

   The world rushed around her and her head felt like it was floating, like the insides were adrift on a boat that was violently rocking back and forth.

   Sweat dripped down her face and tears flowed freely from her eyes. She had never been so dizzy before and her mouth was very dry and her tongue felt so heavy. Her heart was pounding faster than ever and breathing was becoming very difficult and her entire body was shaking despite how very very hot she felt. 

   The trees and path were blurring and she can hardly see the house anymore — could she have been moving backwards? Had that awful man grabbed her and began hauling her away? Was she already dead?

   It was with one final breath that “Crowley” slipped ever so softly from her lips that her body began shaking something terrible. 

  She fell to the ground with a heavy thud and everything went black.

                                                      ~

    Gabriel ran after the nymph, waving around his pilfered sword in a desperate attempt to hack away the thick branches and thorns that had inexplicably grown up in front of him. The nymph was too far ahead of him. He could just barely hear her feet thumping against the ground somewhere in the distance.

   So caught up was he in his task that he didn’t hear a sharp cry of alarm.

   Eventually Gabriel made his way through the wood barrier and gave chase. When he reached her though, he found himself standing not but a few paces from where the nymph had apparently fallen to the ground. She did not move, even to draw a breath. 

   Not wanting all this effort to go to waste in case he was mistaken, Gabriel cautiously stepped forward. Perhaps it was a trick, a way to lure him closer only for her to strike him.

   He walked until he stood in front of her head. Still she did not move. Using the very tip of his sword, he lifted her forehead from the ground. Her eyes were expressionless and her mouth slack.

   Dead then. 

   Gabriel tutted at her, shaking his head before letting her head fall back to the ground.

   “Truly disappointing,” he thought, “and such a waste of a beautiful creature.”

   He turned, facing away from the dead nymph, and sheathed his sword before venturing back in the direction from which he had come.

                                                           ~ 

   The world was awfully bright when Crowley finally woke that morning. Much brighter than she had grown used to. Sunlight streamed grandly through the window and the birds chirped happily somewhere off in the distance. It must be late, much past the time Aziraphale would have normally woken her.

   She reached out in front of her and her assumption was proven correct — Aziraphale had already risen and left Crowley alone in their bed. She finally opened her eyes, the full unobstructed force of light making her wince for a moment, to see her hand reaching out for empty air.

   It wasn’t exactly a frequent occurrence — waking up without Aziraphale next to her — but it did happen once in a while. Crowley generally found this meant her nymph was up to no good. Normally, highly amusing for Crowley in the end, though it left her with a low ache to wake up without a lovely, round body keeping her warm and a soft belly to throw her arm around.

   Normally, Crowley would shrug it off with a mere moment’s hesitation and roll out of bed, stumble into the kitchen in a state of disarray to eat something before getting properly dressed and tending to her garden.

   And normally, Aziraphale was back not long after Crowley had woken, already having had plenty of time to get up to whatever mischief she’d fancied.

   This time it felt different, though. The ache in her belly, that longing for Aziraphale’s back pressed to her chest and solid weight under her arm, hurt deeper. It felt heavy, like she’d swallowed a rock and it was sitting low inside. 

   So Crowley laid there for a bit, just staring at the empty half of the bed. Her stomach ached a while longer in some inexplicable nervous anxiety and she felt a bit cold but really there wasn’t much cause for concern. She just didn’t want to get up knowing she’d have to bide her time before Aziraphale arrived home. Perfectly reasonable.

   Even with no good reason to remain, Crowley languished in bed for a while longer, watching the shadows glide across the wall.

                                                         ~ 

   It didn’t take long for Crowley to realize something had gone wrong. Eventually she did get up out of bed, got dressed, ate, and headed out to the garden. After weeding for a bit, she headed back in for a drink of water fully expecting to catch sight of Aziraphale nibbling on a vine of grapes from yesterday’s dinner while sipping wine and nibbling some bits of cheese. Crowley had never been sure of whether nymphs actually needed to eat, but necessity or not Aziraphale seemed quite taken with it, especially when Crowley grew the food herself.

   Crowley would stride across the room, Aziraphale’s name on her lips, and take her nymph’s lovely pink cheeks in hand, stroking the soft skin while Aziraphale would giggle and flush, tsking at the soil being smudged onto her face. Crowley would bury one of her dirty hands in the short curls at the back of Aziraphale’s neck where they had escaped from the bun she’d done up with ribbon. 

   And then they’d kiss. Aziraphale would taste of bitter red wine and sweet purple grapes. Her hands would wrap around Crowley’s shoulders and eventually wander to where her hair was pulled hastily into a ponytail earlier that morning. And they’d stay like that until Aziraphale would tug Crowley back gently by her hair.

   'I am trying to eat, dear.’ She’d whine. ‘Why don’t you join me for a bit?’ 

   Except Aziraphale’s name didn’t have the chance to leave Crowley’s mouth. The kitchen was just as empty as it had been that morning. She pursed her lips and frowned. Truly, Aziraphale might not have been gone long — Crowley had been asleep when she’d snuck away and Aziraphale could’ve left any time between Crowley falling asleep and her waking up — but midday was quickly approaching, which meant lunch, and Crowley had never known Aziraphale to miss a meal since they’d met. If she wasn’t in the kitchen she must be close by. 

   After inspection of every room in the house, calling her name out and around the edge of the house, and returning to the garden just in case, Crowley headed to the forest. It was the only other place she could think to look. It was, after all, entirely possible Aziraphale was completely fine and had only lost track of time revisiting the place she had spent most of her life. It hadn’t happened before but it wasn’t impossible.

   After finding her admiring some tree somewhere, Crowley would sneak up behind her, wrap her arms around the nymph and scare her a little. She’d jump and chastise Crowley for ‘sneaking up on me like that! Really Crowley, you’re absolutely horrid’ and Crowley would tell her how then maybe she shouldn’t sneak off in the early morning and make Crowley come looking for her. Aziraphale would apologize for making her worry. They’d walk home together and the knot in Crowley’s stomach would unravel and she’d kiss her nymph sweetly on the forehead and they’d enjoy lunch in the back garden where Crowley grew her flowers while Aziraphale talked about what she’d gotten up to that morning. Crowley would try to listen only for her to inevitably get lost staring at just how absolutely beautiful Aziraphale was, get taken in by how lucky she’d gotten in marrying such a stunning creature. Aziraphale would ask what she was looking at and when Crowley told her, she’d get pink all down her neck.

   That would make up for all the worry. It would make up for the lump as big as a pomegranate stuck in Crowley’s throat; she could just barely swallow around it. It’d make up for the way her hands shook and the weakness in her legs. It was unbearable. 

   She wandered down the path a ways, calling out for the nymph (“Aziraphale! Where are you! I can’t find you!”) until she reached the bank of the river that ran down from the mountains and cut through the land. It wasn’t particularly wide or deep, but there was no way across without getting wet and Aziraphale had never been especially fond of getting wet unless they’d set out together to cool off on a very hot day. She certainly wouldn’t have any reason to cross, either. None that Crowley knew of anyhow. 

   Worry was beginning to give way to full blown panic. If Aziraphale wasn’t anywhere on the path then she must be in the woods somewhere and as much as Crowley trusted Aziraphale to keep from purposefully getting in harm's way, knew she’d spent her entire life here before Crowley had swept her up, Aziraphale did tend to attract danger that required a hero’s rescue. Crowley was always more than happy to play that role for her, though she was never quite as happy with whatever series of events proceeded.

   Before Crowley could think, she was sprinting back down the path, singing at the top of her lungs. Crowley's voice had yet to fail her in whatever she used it to do, whether that be serenading Aziraphale with some song or poem of her choosing or singing an angry work song that would scare a particularly stubborn plant into submission. 

   Or to command the very air around her to lead her to Aziraphale when she was lost.

   It hadn’t happened before and it certainly wasn’t going to happen now.

   The line between singing and screaming quickly began to muddle as Crowley was overwhelmed with emotion, tears streamed down her face, her throat was raw and burned.

   The world around her responded as though it had emotions of its own. The wind whipped her hair and clothing around her, pulling and pushing her. The leaves hissed in the branches above. The world was so furious and sorrowful. Crowley had never been so worried in her life. She didn’t want to think of what could’ve happened that affected it so.

   The wind shifted so suddenly that Crowley nearly fell over. Instead of moving her forward, she was jerked to the left off the path and toward a jagged collection of branches that looked like they’d been hacked carelessly apart. Crowley’s breath stopped dead halfway up her throat. 

   She had fought.

   Someone must’ve been chasing Aziraphale and she had fought. Aziraphale had fought for her life. There was nothing else, no one else, that could’ve manipulated nature in such a way. Crowley could only look upon it with horror. She would’ve collapsed right there if not for the wind trying to keep her moving.

   Eventually, Crowley was forced out of her stupor and focused on stumbling through the dense trees as quickly as she could manage, the wind directing her moments as she went.

                                                           ~

    There was no clearing, no soft sunlight streaming through the trees, no gentle breeze rustling the grass; nothing that could make her feel like Aziraphale hadn’t suffered when she died. Everything around her was brown and dead.

   Gods, she’d never get used to that thought. She was gone. Dead. 

   Aziraphale was dead.

   It’d taken Crowley a while to actually get where she was supposed to be going, not that she’d known where that was. She just sort of ran in whichever direction the wind pushed her. But when she saw a crumpled mass of white lying deathly still in the middle of the woods, she’d known this was what she was supposed to see — she knew it was Aziraphale.

   The wind immediately went still and all was silent throughout the woods. They knew what had happened and what was to come. 

   Crowley shrieked her name and it came out a splintering, broken howl. Tears flooded her eyes and flowed freely down her cheeks and dripped from her chin. She ran to her wife, the soles of her feet burning with the pain of cuts from the rough forest floor littered with shards of shattered branches. Her legs gave out beneath her. She crawled closer and reached out only for her hand to hover over Aziraphale’s back, the white fabric of her peplos was stained brown from where she lay in the dirt.

   She crawled further up, towards Aziraphale’s head. Her face is flat against the ground and Crowley couldn’t see her expression but the skin of her forehead was showing. Aziraphale has always been fair-skinned, certainly, but now— the color of her skin could only be described as a sickly white. 

   She had to see, Crowley had to see her face. She swiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand, drying them momentarily, and took a shaky breath, trying to brace herself. She moved to sit on her heels next to Aziraphale and rested her hands on Aziraphale’s side. Even through the peplos, her skin was so cold, not at all like Crowley was used to.

   It took a few good hard shoves to get Aziraphale facing upwards. She was completely limp, dead weight, left to Crowley to move all the while choking on the sobs stuck in the back of her throat. It was torture.

   Nothing could prepare Crowley for what she would see. Aziraphale’s face was so white and cold. Her mouth slack and her lips a dull, faded pink. Her eyes open, blank and empty, staring up into the endless sky above her. There was no depth or mirth as there always was when she looked at the world around her. There was no endless love as there was when looked at Crowley with that sweet little smile that was just for her and-

   And it broke Crowley’s heart. 

    And she threw herself over-top of Aziraphale’s stomach, squeezing the flesh that had always been there for Crowley to latch onto. She was so cold and still, no heartbeat thrumming in her chest. 

   She could almost feel the ghost of Aziraphale’s hand stroking her back, rubbing her neck, her breath in her ear.

   “It’s alright, dear,” she would say. “It’ll be alright.” 

   But there was no reassuring voice and there was no hand to calm her and so instead Crowley screamed and sobbed and cursed everyone above and below that she could name. 

   She called for Aziraphale, for her to come back, begging and pleading until her voice left her.

   You’ve gone. Somebody’s killed you and you’ve gone.

   Crowley wept and wept until she could weep no more. Her eyes and nose had run dry and swollen as bright red as her own hair. And by the time the last of her tears had dried, the sun was beginning to set. She had spent nearly the entire day in mourning. Not nearly long enough, Crowley thought, but it would have to be enough for now. She needed to use what remaining light she had to get back to the house. Normally an easy task, but she had Aziraphale to carry back with her. Crowley refused to leave her in the forest overnight. She’d sooner sleep here in this very spot. The idea was almost appealing until she remembered that this was the very spot Aziraphale had died, the spot the light had left her eyes, and then it was so revolting that she lost whatever was left in her stomach.

   In the end, the moon had risen and fallen by the time Crowley finished her task. She never went to bed, far too afraid of the cold, lonely expanse left next to her in the bed. Instead, she slept in the fruit garden next to a fresh mound of soil. She still missed the warmth of her lover, but at least here Aziraphale would still be beside her.

                                                         ~

    Crowley never had to deal with grief before, not grief like this. Never for someone as important and special as Aziraphale had been. The only other emotion she knew it to be like was, oddly enough, love.

   Just as consuming, just emptier. It never slowed down, never stopped or let Crowley rest for even a moment. Never constricted by time. It choked her like a vine around her throat, slowly squeezing until she couldn’t breath and her eyes watered. There were moments where it was so much that she could feel the physical weight of her own body being pressed down into the Earth. She could feel the heaviness in her limbs and the way her tongue sat in her mouth. Her legs couldn’t hold her body up and then the ever present unbridled sadness pressing down on her added so much more, she’d eventually just fall. Wherever she was, she’d fall to the ground and cry for as long as it took for her to find enough strength to stand again. Oftentimes it took hours. It was too much. Everything was surreal and at the same time it was like Crowley was just floating numbly, not even feeling the ground beneath her. 

   Then she’d stagger back to the garden. She’d refresh the white oak flowers resting on Aziraphale’s chest. It had been months now and even still every tree produced the tiny white flowers, their way of mourning her, Crowley assumed.  

   Every day she’d go out and pick a fresh bunch. After, she’d just sit in the dirt, silent and staring. She hadn’t sung since she’d patted the dirt down firmly over Aziraphale’s body. 

    She’d done everything right, cut no corners in preparing Aziraphale to enter the Underworld. She’d washed and anointed the body, wrapped it in linen shroud (though she couldn’t bear to cover her face), and placed in the ground atop vine and crowned in garland. Finally, she’d closed her eyes and mouth. Easier than one might think. Her eyes were growing white and cloudy and Crowley couldn’t stomach keeping them open any longer. Then Crowley had sung her to sleep.

   And as Crowley mourned the loss of Aziraphale in her refusal to sing, so too did the world mourn the loss of Crowley’s voice. Even the Gods missed the sound of Crowley’s singing and how it floated up to them on the wind from below. 

   Many of them understood such a heavy loss hurt Crowley deeper than they knew and waited patiently for the day that her songs may return to them. Others, however, seemed a bit less understanding and were growing weary of Crowley’s constant desolate mood. Her voice was her dedication, her way of honoring them, in place of food or drink. Without her singing, she owed them something else, and yet in all the months since Aziraphale had died, not a single note had been sung nor had they received an offering. They gathered together and all came to the same conclusion — something must be done.

   They sent down a messenger one night to confront Crowley as she lay on her back in the courtyard garden with Aziraphale, raking her fingers aimlessly through the soil next to her, the dirt pushing up under her nails.

   Her eyes scanned the stars even as the messenger appeared next to her.

   “Crowley,” they said to her, standing over her, tone without patience. Uriel had never been one to dance uselessly around an issue.

   They spoke Crowley’s name again, this time more terse. Even still, Crowley did not so much as dart her eyes in Uriel’s direction.

   “This is ridiculous. You know what I’m here for.” Uriel fixed Crowley with a particularly withering glare.

   “It’s only ridiculous to you.” Crowley finally broke her silence. “You didn’t know her and now you never will. She could weave the winds of the sea and the mountains together with a whisper. She could send a meadow into full blossom with a snap of her fingers. I’d fall to my knees for her and she’d help me up. And now she’s gone.” 

Crowley propped herself up on an elbow. Her face was carefully still but there was a fire in her eyes. “Tell me again how my sadness means so little.”

   Uriel’s lips drew tight. “The Gods require your tribute, Crowley. Your songs acted as such. Sing or you will find yourself in an uncomfortable situation.”

  “Aziraphale meant, means, more to me than any of you ever did,” she said slowly and resigned herself back to the dirt, eyes directed back up. 

   “Thankless creature,” they sneered the words with venom and Uriel’s collected demeanor vanished for a moment.

   “What is there to be thankful for without her! I can’t go back to the way things were before.” Uriel took a moment to think.

   “If the nymph is what you require, we are prepared to offer a solution,” they finally said. “Retrieve her from the Underworld. I will point you in the direction of the nearest opening.” Crowley’s head darted away from the sky and looked up at Uriel looming over her, hands folded primly in front of their chest. She revealed no further emotion to Uriel, but inside her head was spinning and her stomach was churning.

   “You will know the way when the sun rises tomorrow morning. Remember Crowley, traveling to the Underworld is no trivial journey. You will need all the strength you possess to get there and to come back.” 

   “Of course.” Uriel fixed Crowley with a dubious look as the human woman stood from

the ground, brushing dirt and dust from her chiton, before they returned to the Gods.

 Crowley watched them fade away before returning her gaze to where Aziraphale lay under the ground.

   “Wherever you are,” she started, “I’ll come get you. I’m coming, Aziraphale.” It still hurt to speak to Aziraphale like this, like she was in some faraway place that Crowley couldn’t reach, but that would end soon enough. She knew what to do about it now and there was nothing above or below that could stop Crowley from getting Aziraphale back.

                                                            ~

    Even if it was clear that Uriel hadn’t been Crowley’s biggest supporter when they came down for a visit with a list of demands from on high, they weren’t a liar. Crowley had a bit of trouble drifting off to sleep the night before, but when she woke the next morning, it was just as Uriel had said — she inexplicably knew the way to a portal leading down to the Underworld. She had never moved faster from the bed in all her life. She grabbed something to eat and her lyre, tied her long hair up out of her face, before she was out the door in a flourish.

   Crowley hadn’t felt nearly so happy for many months; she couldn’t help the way her lips began to twitch up in a smile as she began her journey. Perhaps it was a bit premature to feel such joy, but Crowley would do anything to succeed. Nothing had ever been so important before and regardless of whether Crowley failed or not— well. She would soon see Aziraphale again no matter what happened.

   The walk was certainly a long one, the sun rising higher and higher up into the sky, but Crowley passed the time strumming her lyre, humming softly to herself, and admiring the white oak blossoms on the trees, the way the petals floated softly down around her. It could only be made better by Aziraphale strolling next to her, her plump fingers filling the space between Crowley’s while her nymph chatted away.

   It still hurt remembering Aziraphale wasn’t with her now because she’d died, thinking how she’d died all alone. Even knowing that she was on her way to get Aziraphale back, it only eased the pain so much. It was like she had tried to take a deep breath but her lungs couldn’t quite expand enough and she got stuck halfway. Even if she got Aziraphale back, rosey-cheeks and all, it would always hurt a little. Seeing her pale, facedown in the dirt without so much as a twitch to move her — that was an image Crowley would never forget. A wound that would never completely heal over. Knowing there was a chance for her though, it made her feel lighter. 

   After some time, Crowley came to what was, no doubt, the portal she had been searching for. There were no guards or really any other obvious features that indicated she was in the right place. Far too conspicuous that. She’d nearly walked right by it but there was something that told her she had arrived, some energy that pulled her back. Even just standing there in front of it, she felt a bit overwhelmed. 

   It looked like nothing more than a large hole left in the ground, perhaps an animal burrow or the site of a felled tree, the hole the remains of where its roots had buried themselves underground. It made sense, of course, for a portal to the Underworld to be nondescript. You certainly couldn’t have anyone stumbling upon it and wandering in. (Though you could say that’s what Crowley was doing with just a little more purpose to her wandering in.)

   Well, she’d done enough standing around. It was time to do what she had come here for. Crowley took one last fortifying breath and stepped forward. The ground instantly crumbled beneath her feet. The hole widened and she fell with a shout.

   It was like falling out of a dream and into a nightmare. She was in a free-fall between worlds, black and empty and so silent you could hear static, before she fell out of the sky and into the Underworld. Her body smacked into a steep ledge of densely packed dirt. She tumbled over the side, down and down; she couldn’t stop herself. She just fell and fell, trying to reach out for something to grab onto, a root or branch, but there was nothing. Nothing grew in the Underworld and so Crowley fell, the hot dirt searing the bare skin of her face and bruising her limbs, until she managed to claw her fingers into the ground. 

   Eventually, she slowed her fall to a slide and then a stop. She laid there for a moment, trying to catch her breath. 

   Even that simple task was surprisingly difficult. Everything was different down here, including the air. It was thin and murky, like looking through water when you’d just dragged your feet along the muddy bottom. The dirt she’d stirred up in her fall hung around her like a cloud. The deeper she tried to breath, the more difficult it became, like the air had wrapped its wispy hands around her throat and squeezed, choking her. 

   Her throat felt sore and her chest tight with panic and pain and she coughed so much Crowley thought she may actually cough something up. Her face turned bright red and black dots were floating in and out of her sight line. She’d been down here not long enough for a cloud to pass over the sun let alone long enough to find her way towards Hades, and she was about to die here in the dirt choking on the toxic air of the Underworld, a loose grip away from tumbling towards a different death. 

   Well, that wouldn’t do at all. Crowley clamped her mouth shut and did not breathe. The coughs were suffocated in the back of her throat. It burned and her eyes watered, but after a moment she could feel herself calming. She took small, slow breaths through her nose instead and suddenly she wasn’t dying. She let out a sigh and pulled herself up to stand, half lunging. Her legs spread and a balancing hand pressed, fingers wide, to the ground, helped her as she looked out over the world beyond her.  

   The sky was a vibrant orange, as if the sun was going down though there was no sun to speak of. The rest of the land was dark and dead and horrid. The mountains were so blue and dark they looked black. The dirt was grey, ashy, and hot to the touch. Even looking down at her own hands, Crowley’s skin was already fading from a soft brown to grey and pale. She was on borrowed time here. She needed to hurry down towards Hades and Persephone. 

   Gingerly, she lifted her hand from the ground and took a short breath before she shifted her weight forward. Almost immediately she was sliding quickly towards the base of the mountain. It didn’t take long, even with her stumbling and falling and a couple times. The ground was visibly different — a strong grey and black stone that looked as though it had risen up from the center of the Earth — but still it felt no different from that of the massive structure Crowley had just come down from. Even now standing on solid ground, she felt as though she might begin sliding downward, the calluses on her feet rubbing, burning from friction. Still, she had come here for Aziraphale and she wasn’t leaving without her, so she started off in the direction she thought would lead her to Hades. She didn’t know for sure that she was headed in the right direction, but something inside of her pulled her just as it had in the forest. It hadn’t been wrong then so surely she could trust it again down here. 

   It was strange, walking through here with a sense of direction and yet not really knowing where you were. The path led her through a gorge and felt as though it were constantly winding, taking sharp turns and looping around itself, but it only led her straight on. It made her feel like her head was swimming. 

   She felt watched but never saw anyone else nor could she pinpoint the source. It was like something was circling her. The walls on either side of the gorge went up higher than she could see and at moments it felt as though they were narrowing, trapping her. Her mind was fighting itself, half of it telling her to turn around and run back to where she had come. The other half insisted that she could only escape if she continued forward. The entire experience was deeply disturbing. Still, she pressed forward.

   Just as she began to wonder how long she’d been walking for, how much longer it would be before she reached Hades’ palace, the land morphed and the path crested over a dirt hill with the horizon painted with broad strokes behind it. Only moments before, Crowley had stared down a path that stretched on forever and the sunless sky was so far ahead it looked like an orange pinprick in the distance. She frowned, understandably confused, but she ran to the top of the hill and looked down, not at the other side of the hill, but rather over a waterfall and a sheer drop underground. Even though she could hear the water running down, it was as though the hole had swallowed all light itself. Completely pitch black, she couldn’t see a thing past the rim of the hole.

   It took but a moment of decision. Crowley closed her eyes and jumped.

   The hot air from above evaporated, rushing from her lungs and diving out her throat. It felt like her very spirit raced to leave her and hurry back to the surface. The air turned from dry and thin and dirty to wet and dense and sterile. Her entire body shook violently against the sudden sharp temperature drop. The sound of the water roaring filled her head and her mind hurt with how heavy it felt and it was so cold and what was going to happen when she reached the bottom? How much water had pooled there? How deep was it? Would she splash or splat?

   She found out before any worries had time to spiral further. One moment she had been falling and the next she felt solid ground under her feet, like it had rushed up to catch her. The air had stopped whipping around her. It was still and silent. Crowley opened her eyes to find herself standing at what must be the bottom of the waterfall, except there was no waterfall. It’d completely vanished. A misty river of depthless water wound out in front of her. Looking up, she couldn’t even see where she had fallen from. It was as dark as a starless night, the blackness empty and hungry. 

   Crowley was standing on a wooden dock in the middle of the water. Next to her, a cloaked figure stood at the rear of a long papyrus boat with an oar. A lantern sat at their feet, the soft yellow light flickered dimly and illuminated the empty seat in the middle of the boat. Crowley couldn’t see their eyes, if they had any at all, but she felt them looking at her expectantly. 

   “Do you require some form of payment for me to ride?” Crowley asked as she stepped off the dock and into the boat, forgetting any hesitation. It rocked gently with her added weight. The light from the lantern spilled out over the sides of the boat and bounced off the stone walls of the cave. 

   The figure said nothing, but lowered the long paddle into the water though they made no effort to push away from the dock. The ripples from their movement danced across the water almost hypnotically. The boat rode smoothly atop the waves, like a drop of rain sliding over the waxy coating of a leaf. If Crowley didn’t know any better, she’d say they were waving at her, coaxing her. She felt the wordless whispers of many different voices caress the outer shell of her ear. Her gut clenched and she suddenly felt violently ill.

   “Do not look into the water,” a voice said, though Crowley could not say from which direction it had come. She felt the overwhelming urge to look directly into the water despite what she had heard. So she did, ignoring the warning.

   At first she saw nothing but the pale blue water and her own image looking back up at her. The longer she looked, though, the further she leaned over the boat and the more she could see. There were white arms and hands reaching up, grabbing at the sides of the boat. They grabbed her reflection, squeezed her neck viciously. They covered her mouth and yanked her hair. She tried to scream but the hands over her reflection’s mouth muffled the noise, forcing her to swallow it back down her throat. She could feel it rattling around inside of her.

   “Do not look into the water,” the voice spoke again, this time louder and more assertive. The ferryman used the end of their oar to push Crowley back inside the boat. They weren’t at all forceful, but Crowley still ended up flying backwards into her seat, violently shaking the boat from side-to-side. Her throat felt bruised and it hurt to breathe.

   Once she was calm enough, she noticed her lyre sitting at the bottom of the boat. She had brought it with her, she suddenly remembered, but must’ve lost it when she entered the Underworld because she certainly didn’t have it while scaling the side of the mountain or any time after that. She turned back toward the figure standing stock-still at the rear of the boat. Even sitting below them, Crowley could not see their face beneath the shadow of their hood. Their body was entirely covered by their robe. Even as they held the oar, stroking the water more than actually rowing, Crowley couldn’t see their hands. Her mind felt fuzzy and static when she looked directly where they should be. 

   Perhaps this was the expected payment. She was hesitant to sing until she was reunited with Aziraphale, without her it felt almost profane, but playing her lyre — that was something she could do. The rest of the trip, Crowley strummed along and looked dead ahead until the mouth of a separate cave came into sight. It was absolutely enormous, so big that it shouldn’t have actually fit inside this cave. Stalagmites grew from the top of it and Crowley could see a twisting path that almost certainly led through to Hades’ palace. 

   The ferryman lifted their oar from the water. The ripples began to fade back into the water and the boat drifted along for a short while more before slowing to a stop beside a second dock.  

   Crowley, taking her lyre with her, stood from the boat and onto the dock. She gave one last look at the ferryman before setting off down the path towards Hades’ front gates. 

   She didn’t have to walk far. Down the path and around a long bend and Crowley was staring at the set of terribly tall and imposing iron gates with what looked to be a gigantic three-headed dog sleeping in front. 

   She swallowed and continued forward. The ears on one head swiveled in Crowley’s direction and she froze. None of the heads moved but a pair of ears was definitely interested in her. Slowly she pressed on, one step at a time, and humming low in her throat trying to warm up her voice. 

   “Oh deities of this dark world beneath the earth,” she started softly, speaking more than singing. Even so it was undeniably melodic. Two eyes opened, staring her down. 

   “I am not pretending. I wish I were dead.” All three heads were now paying attention to her, but not a one moved. They all watched her as she moved closer to the gate, moving faster now and gently playing her lyre to match her voice.

   “I come not down here because of curiosity to see the glooms of Tartarus,” she continued, fully singing with tears in her eyes. She couldn’t put off any longer now. “She was leaving me in tears, and over and over she said to me: ‘Crowley, it hurts. What's happened to us is just so grim. It isn't my choice, I swear it, to leave like this.’ And in these words I answered her:

   “‘I want to remind you of the good things we have enjoyed. For at my side, many the crowns of violets and roses you have put on yourself, and many the garlands woven from flowers you have cast round your delicate neck, and with quantities of flowery perfume fit for a queen even, you anointed yourself all over, and on soft beds, delicately you have satisfied desire.’

   “You may not know Love down here, but I do: by this Place of Fear, this huge void and these vast and silent realms, renew the life-thread of my loving Aziraphale! After all, one day, when grey and old and full of age, she shall be yours yet again and forevermore. All I ask of you is just a few years of her life. But if the fates deny to me this prayer, then I do not want to go back, and may you triumph in the death of two!”

   And when she had finished, she began again. Cerberus looked at her with mournful eyes as they let her walk past. She rested a loving hand as high on their head as she could reach and their tail thumped loudly, shaking the ground. Crowley couldn’t help smiling a bit as she slipped through the bars of the gates.

   Her voice echoed through the whole of the Underworld and it was so moving and haunting that everything stopped. Danaids ceased filling their pitchers with water; the souls stopped their moaning; the wheel of Ixion suddenly stopped turning; even those unconscious and inanimate objects mourned for Crowley and Aziraphale.

   Every time her song finished, she would start again— violent, frenzied and inconsolable— until she was in the throne room and kneeling at the feet of Hades and Persephone. Hades, a giant woman with dark skin and long brown hair, ringlets falling over her shoulders, held more elegance and cold power than Crowley could bear. She stared down at Crowley. Her arms rested immobile on the arms of her throne. Persephone sat in his throne on Hades’ right side, just as huge and imposing, but softer and lighter and kinder. They both wept.

   Crowley went through her song once more and then stopped for breath. She knelt there, a mere ant in comparison to the Gods she pleaded with, panting with her head bowed and shoulders hunched, her lyre at her side.

   “Please,” she said and looked up at the two Gods. They held her fate in their hands, her entire life. “I don’t know what to do without her. The world does not deserve her, but I would rather spend eternity here than alone on Earth.”

   They both stared at her, cheeks and eyes wet, then at each other, and back at her seemingly have come to some nonverbal agreement.

   “Very well,” Persephone smiled and wiped away his tears. “You shall have your wife back.” Crowley began to stand, mouth open ready to stutter out a string of “thank you”s but she’s cut off before she can start. 

   “However,” Hades started. “You must not look back at her until you both stand in the light of the sun. If you look back at her even a moment before, she will fall back into the Underworld and she will never return to the World of the Living. Do you understand?” Hades looked down at Crowley, her expression stern but open, almost as though she was pleading with Crowley.

   “I understand,” said Crowley, fully getting to her feet. “Thank you very much.” Even with the threat of truly never seeing Aziraphale again painfully etched into her ribs, Crowley was practically vibrating with relief.

   “Be on your way, then,” Hades commanded and raised a huge hand to gesture to the door.

   “She will be behind you the entire time. Lead her back. Remember.”

   Crowley nodded. “Don’t look back.” And with that she turned and headed out the door.

   She didn’t need to slip through the gate, this time they swung open for her. Cerberus sat there waiting for her. They accompanied Crowley and Aziraphale back down the path to the ferryman. She got in the boat and didn’t need to charm them with song or playing for them to row back down the river. 

   Crowley didn’t look in the water. 

   She didn’t look behind her when the boat didn’t shake with the weight of another person climbing in beside her.

   At the first dock, Crowley climbed out of the boat and instead of finding herself standing on the dock, she found herself above ground. The hot, orange light blinded her and the returned sound of the waterfall roaring was deafening, though a comfort. The sudden adjustment needed to get used to the hot, dry, dirty air takes Crowley a moment. She takes a few slow breaths through her nose before moving forward. 

   She didn't hear anything but the wind stirring up dirt around her.

   She heads back towards the mountain, once again following the pull inside of her. The walls still narrow around her and her head still spins with the feeling of being watched. The hot dirt scalds the soles of her feet with each step, like being on a beach with bare feet. 

   Going up the mountain was really a very different experience than coming down and Crowley wasn’t sure which was worse. She was about halfway up and she could see the open portal waiting for her and Aziraphale.

   That is, if Aziraphale was behind her at all. She never turned around to check, just in case her nymph really was there, but Crowley had been growing increasingly skeptical. She couldn’t feel Aziraphale there with her. Crowley’s always been able to feel her. Maybe it was because she wasn’t really alive yet? It was only a part of her that was with Crowley, after all. Or was it this place, manipulating and using her fears against her?

   But she hadn’t heard a single noise from behind. If Aziraphale was really there, she hadn’t said a word, hadn’t breathed, hadn’t made a sound. Aziraphale loved to talk and Crowley loved to listen. The fact that she hadn’t uttered a single word this entire trip worried Crowley to no end. 

   They were nearly to the top now. 

   ‘Should I turn around?’

   The heat grew more intense as they climbed higher and higher into the sky. 

   ‘Just to check?’

   Some dirt escaped from under her foot and Crowley nearly ended up tumbling back down the side of the mountain. 

   ‘What if this isn’t real? I should check.’

   She hauled herself back up and quickly found herself scampering up the last few steps to stand at the top. 

   ‘What if I just glance over my shoulder. That doesn’t really count as looking, does it?’

   She looked directly up over her head up through the portal. She could see the trees and clear blue sky. She could hear the sound of a breeze shaking the leaves and could feel the coolness on her skin. She closed her eyes and basked in it.

   ‘Just for a second.’ 

   She stretched an arm up and she could feel the phantom warmth of the sun on her skin. Everything didn’t feel so hot anymore. She felt like she could actually take a sweeping breath, feel the clean air fill her. She relished it.

   ‘I need to know. I need to see you.’

   Crowley opened her eyes and started to spin around. 

   Then she stopped. 

   She was back in the World of the Living and she was staring at a tree. A real live tree, brown and tree. She could feel the sun on her skin, she felt it. When she reached up through the portal, it must’ve brought her back. She'd been back longer than she thought. 

   She couldn’t bear to actually turn around now. Despite feeling so desperate for it not a moment ago, she couldn't actually bear to do it. Was this all some elaborate ploy by the Gods, cosmic punishment, for her refusal to sing? 

   Instead, Crowley takes a shaky breath and reaches a hand out behind her. 

   Someone takes it. 

   Crowley lets out a weak sob and squeezes. There isn’t really anything to hold, though. She turns around to see Aziraphale, beautiful as ever, of course. Crowley has never wanted to hold Aziraphale more than she did right now. She wants to fall to her knees and wrap her arms around the nymph’s vast expanse of soft belly and bury her face in the fabric of Aziraphale’s peplos and feel the warmth there radiating outward. She wants to relish in the sweet scent of her wife, let it surround and swaddle her. She wants to get to her feet and kiss Aziraphale’s cheeks and chins and shoulders and every single thin white stretch mark climbing up her arms until she can’t anymore. She wants to hold Aziraphale and never let go ever again.

   But she can’t. She’s turned and Aziraphale is there, thank all those above and below she’s here, but Aziraphale still doesn’t have a body. Her image is thin, wispy. Despite all the things that seem to have happened on their own today, Aziraphale’s body has not walked itself over for her to re-inhabit. They need to go home and work on that together. But it doesn’t matter. Aziraphale is here and alive again.

   “I missed you,” Crowley says, weeping. “I missed you so much.”

   Aziraphale beams at her, beams at her like the fucking ray of sunshine that she is, and mouths back to her ‘I missed you too.'

                                                          ~

    They wasted time walking back home together. Aziraphale’s body wasn’t going anywhere, after all, so they may as well enjoy the trip back. The oak blossoms were finally wilting from the trees, celebrating that Aziraphale was back and Crowley was finally happy. 

   And since Aziraphale had no voice to talk, Crowley filled the silence. She picked at her lyre to the tune of the wind and the sound their rings make when they touch. She regaled the tale of her traversing the whole of the Underworld just so she could save her wonderful, beautiful wife after she’d gone and got herself into trouble again. 

   “Really, my love, I don’t believe there’s a single thing that could keep you from getting yourself into some sort of mess,” Crowley mentioned almost offhandedly but with a bit of snark. Aziraphale made a face. Particularly one that said, ‘I-really-want-to-say-something-back-but-I-can’t-so-I’m-just-going-to-look-mildly-put-out’.

   “You’re just lucky there’s also not a single thing that could keep me from coming to rescue you.” Aziraphale seemed to be mostly satisfied with that answer.

   When they finally arrived back home, the sun had set long ago. Crowley wasn’t entirely sure how much time she’d actually spent down in the Underworld seeing as there were no days or nights there, she just knew by the time they got home, she was absolutely famished and exhausted. She imagined once Aziraphale was back in her body, she’d feel much the same.

   Before they could eat or sleep, though, Aziraphale needed her body. And then that body was going to need a good dressing down and washing up. So, Crowley took to the garden and carefully started digging, scooping away handfuls of dirt from Aziraphale’s body. She didn’t want to take any chances using a shovel. It took a lot longer that way, but it was very much worth it in Crowley’s opinion. 

   After most of the dirt was gone and they could finally see Aziraphale’s face, Crowley froze. Aziraphale was alive, she was okay. Crowley knew that. She could feel Aziraphale sitting beside her, could feel her eyes on her, could feel a hand gently resting on her back. Aziraphale tugged on her chiton to get her attention. Looking up from Aziraphale’s cold empty body to where he spirit sat next to her, eyes so alive and full of love and concern — it gave her whiplash.

   “It’s okay. I’m here,” Aziraphale mouthed to her, exaggerating her annunciation so Crowley understood exactly what she was trying to say.

   “I nearly lost you.” The words left Crowley in a rush. “I almost turned around. At the last second I nearly ruined everything.” She hardly knew what was coming out of her mouth, everything felt so blurry and muddled and all the emotion clogging up her throat made it burn and her eyes felt wet again.

   Aziraphale just smiled, soft and a little sad, her hand moving from Crowley’s back to her face. Crowley tipped her head, leaning her into the airy feeling of Aziraphale’s palm.

   “It’s okay.” She mouthed and Crowley cried harder. She wanted to lean into Aziraphale’s arms; she wanted to be held and told a million times ‘it’s okay’. But that couldn’t happen. Aziraphale needed to leave her, just this once more. 

   Crowley wiped her eyes and jerked her head towards Aziraphale’s body waiting for her. 

   “Go on then. Can’t wait all night for you to get comfortable.” Aziraphale sent her a fondly exasperated look before she suddenly disappeared altogether and Crowley had to catch herself as she fell forward.

   It took a moment, an excruciatingly long moment, but eventually Aziraphale sat up from the ground with a huge intake of air, eyes flying open, cloudiness fading quickly, and looked around wildly. She was already much less pale, less cold. Crowley was on her in an instant, in Aziraphale’s lap with her arms over her nymph’s shoulders and pulling her as close as they could get. Aziraphale’s thighs — her legs, her exposed skin — from where her wrappings had come undone pressed against Crowley’s own bare skin and it’d never felt so good or so grounding before.

   “I’m here,” she said against Aziraphale’s lips — they still tasted of summer months and morning dew drops even after all this time. “I’m here. I’m here.” She repeated it like they were the only words she knew how to say. Aziraphale kissed back with as much fervor as she possessed.

   “Oh my dear, my sweet love. Crowley, how glad I am to be with you again. I’ve missed you so much, dearest.” Aziraphale couldn’t hold Crowley close enough. Walking beside her all that time home, not being able to fully touch, not able to speak — it wasn’t nearly enough.

   “You could never fail me, Crowley.” Aziraphale went on, reassuring and soft, trying to sooth Crowley of the worries she had voiced earlier. “You missed me and you were so close. You didn’t want to wait. I understand. But I knew you wouldn’t turn around. I trusted you just as you do me. It’s okay.” Aziraphale herself began to cry as she reassured Crowley. The nymph brought her wife’s dirty fingers up to her mouth to kiss each knuckle, each fingertip. Crowley wept with relief.

     Aziraphale had no concept of time when she was gone, no conscious thought for the months she was in the Underworld. And yet, while there she felt an aching loneliness down to her very core. She missed something so deeply and yet she could not name it. She could but moan for the loss of something she could hardly remember. She knew now what she yearned for was the press of Crowley’s fingers to the rolls of her back and the taste of Crowley’s apricot lips on hers and the enchanting sight of dark spots spreading over her tan shoulders from time in the sun and her golden eyes blinking slowly at her from across the kitchen table as the evening sun flooding the room. She missed Crowley worshiping every inch of her body and her doing the same in return. Walking back with Crowley had been relieving of course, seeing her alive and well was already more than she could've hoped for. But this, touching Crowley, feeling her skin prickle under her touch, it wasn't something she could ever go without.

   “Come,” Aziraphale said, breathless and between placing delicate kisses to Crowley’s eyelids. “Wash up with me. I can't stand the feeling of all this dirt. Then we can go to bed.”

   “Mm,” Crowley responded, still very much distracted. “Sounds good to me.”

   They went down to the river, trading fruit between themselves as an impromptu dinner as they went and sharing indirect kisses (and some direct ones), and washed their clothing side-by-side, hanging them in the trees to dry. They took turns bathing and washing each others’ hair, fingers gently combing through knots and massaging the dirt away. Eventually, Aziraphale simply laid with her back to the bank, her head in Crowley’s lap as her wife lovingly ran her long fingers through her nymph’s white curls and scooped up pools of water with cupped hands to wash Aziraphale’s face and shoulders.

   “Lovely still after all this time, my love. My beautiful nymph. My memorizing dryad. My wife.” Crowley murmured contently as she massaged the plump skin of Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale hummed back. Her eyes were closed but she could feel Crowley’s gentle gaze sweeping over her.

   “All the same can be said for you, my dear delicate human. How the gods have blessed me so with your love.” Aziraphale opened her eyes for a moment to meet Crowley’s gaze and smiled. Crowley gave a smile of her own and planted a kiss on Aziraphale’s forehead.

   Both would’ve been completely content to lay there all night long, but the night air grew cool and they longed for the comfort of their bed. They put their clothes back on, though still relatively damp but clean, and headed back. At home, they changed into dry clothes and huddled together in bed facing each other with arms slung over waists and legs entwined under the blankets. 

   “Would you sing a song for me?” Aziraphale whispered over the slide of fabric over skin.

   “Ngk. S’pose I’ve got one in mind that might do.” Crowley watches Aziraphale’s sapphire eyes blink heavily at her. So she sang, the notes vibrating through her — down her throat, down her torso, down her arm, and out through her fingertips where they squeeze Aziraphale’s hip so she can feel them too. 

   “You came and I was crazy for you,” her voice steadily grew steadily softer, sweeter, quieter as Aziraphale could no longer bear to keep her eyes open. “And you cooled my mind that burned with longing.” The bright white light of the moon hit Aziraphale’s back and cast her in a halo of godly light. The image burned itself into the front of Crowley’s brain as her own eyes grew heavier than she could stand. Her breath slowed, her body grew loose and she dreamed of nothing but the sight of Aziraphale standing in that very same stunning light as she held Crowley close.

 “I’m here,” she said. “I’m here and I will always be.” 

[blacklacefanfics]

Raison D’Etre

Summary: It’s New Year’s Eve 2019- Crowley’s reflecting, drinks are flowing, and it’s the roaring 20s.

A/N: My GOmens Holiday swap gift for @idanit !! I wanted to incorporate the bookshop fluff, ineffable wives, some nice dancing, and the current holidays into this fic. It’s also been so long since I’ve sat down and wrote a fic this long, so I’m hoping that you like it!

~

Crowley pulled up outside of the bookshop, her Bentley rattling to a slow stop. Driving through SoHo on the night of New Year’s Eve wasn’t anyone’s idea of a good time, but she had promised to meet Aziraphale up before midnight and she wasn’t one to be late- when meeting her angel, anyways.

People bustled past on the sidewalk, already loud and buzzing an hour before midnight. It wasn’t a scene that Crowley was unfamiliar with, but the crowds every year around this time could be massively overwhelming even for a demon.

She grabbed the brown bag and glasses from her car and sauntered towards the bookshop, miracling the handle unlocked and knocking her hip against the door to swing it open. The bell above jingled happily.

“Angel-”

“A moment please!” Aziraphale called from the back room. A rustle of books and papers a moment later, and she came to the front with a smile on her face. “Crowley! You said you would be a while.”

“Figured I’d be early tonight, y’know? And I come bearing gifts.” Crowley smiled and held up the glasses and bag.

“Lovely!” Aziraphale beamed, glancing downward. “Crowley, what on Earth are you wearing?”

“You don’t like it?” Crowley glanced down at herself- a black button down, silver tie, black pants and suspenders. She swept her red hair over her shoulder. “I thought it was rather fitting for the ‘Roaring 20’s’ and all that.”

“Just not your usual fashion- bit outdated.”

Crowley snorted a laugh.

“Really? Says the one who can’t lose the tartan.” Crowley teased, pulling Aziraphale towards her by the waist, arms wrapped around her.

Aziraphale blushed, smacking at her hand. “You shush! Tartan is stylish. Everyone knows that.”

“Your outfits are a few decades old for even the 1920’s, angel, get used to it.” Crowley laughed, letting her pull away. “Do you want my gift or not?”

“Of course. What did you bring?”

“Champagne. For the new year.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale smiled, taking the wine. Crowley set the glasses on the table. “1995 De Venoge Cuvee Louis XV Brut. Very fancy.”

“Only the best.” Crowley winked, taking the bottle and popping it and pouring a glass. “Figured it was an important year, might as well do it right.”

“I thought we were going down to central London this year?” Aziraphale questioned, taking a glass. “Perhaps it’s not a good idea to drink it now if you’re driving us down there.”

“Well,” Crowley said, pouring herself a tall glass and taking a sip. “I figured that we could stay here. Just this time. Maybe go out next year.” She sidled up against Aziraphale again and wrapped her arm around her waist.

“Oh?” Aziraphale smiled up at her. “Just us, then?”

“Mm.” Crowley pulled herself flush against Aziraphale. Aziraphale blushed.

“You’re awfully touchy tonight, Crowley.” She smiled shyly, sipping her glass.

“It is a special occasion, after all.”

“What makes this one more important than the others? We’ve never really celebrated before, have we?” Aziraphale tilted her head.

“Just important, s’all.”

Aziraphale looked up at her. She reached up with her hand and gently caressed Crowley’s face.

“I’m very happy to spend this time with you, my dear.” She said, gently taking off Crowley’s glasses. “We’ve had quite a run of it the past few months. I hope you can forgive me wanting to see you properly.”

Crowley hitched a breath and fluttered her eyes as the glasses were removed. Her gold eyes flickered over Aziraphale’s face and she noticed finally that the bookshop was actually quite dark, save for a few soft lamps and a fireplace in the corner. Had that always been there?

“I don’t mind.” She swallowed, suddenly stepping back. “I, um…” Her face reddened suddenly and she laughed nervously. “I may have had a couple of drinks before coming over.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale scolded. “You drove!”

“I held it off until now, angel. Don’t worry.” Crowley scoffed, waving off her admonishments. The room wobbled just under her feet, and she thought perhaps chugging a bottle of cheap whiskey was a bad idea.

“Why would you do that and still bring something to drink?” Aziraphale prattled on nonetheless, leading Crowley to the couch and sitting her down.

“Because it’s a party tonight, angel! The one night all the humans are out getting drunk and celebrating surviving another year, shouldn’t I get to?”

Aziraphale gave her a reproved look and rolled her eyes.

“You’re impossible. I hope you know that.”

“It’s one of my many charms.” Crowley smirked up at her, itching to grab her glasses off the table and slide them back on. It was hard to resist, even when up against Aziraphale’s wishes.

Aziraphale huffed.

“Well, if we’re going to be in drinking all night, I’m going to put on some music.” She sauntered over to her dusty old phonograph- one Crowley was very fond of making fun of- and flipped through her collection of vinyl. Much of it was Crowley’s choice of music, anyways, but this record she picked up especially for tonight. She played it on the player and adjusted the needle. A quick trumpet solo flowed out, followed by instrumentals.

“I don’t recall getting you this album.” Crowley teased, moving to the side for Aziraphale to sit on the couch as well. She sat in the middle, effectively closing Crowley up against the corner of the couch.

“You didn’t. I picked it for this evening. I know it’s not your usual style.”

Crowley listened for a moment and finished off her champagne.

“Louis Armstrong. How appropriate for the evening.”

“Well, humans only were able to record music for the past century or so. I figured it’d be nice to get a little nostalgic.”

Crowley looked over at her and smiled, laughing a bit.

“A hundred years is nothing, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled back.

“Perhaps. But New Year’s is meant to be a time of reflection. What we’ve accomplished, what we haven’t.”

She went quiet and looked away. Crowley felt her chest ache in a most familiar way.

It had been quite the year- quite the decade. Years and days usually pass without any thought to them, considering they’ve seen multiple millennia. However this decade- and this year- were the culmination of everything they experienced. Adam’s birth only eleven years ago. Crowley’s stint as a nanny to raise the Destroyer of Worlds and Aziraphale’s governess position to try to influence him to be “good.” Yes, it was the wrong child, but that was not the point. The point was that this year the humans wouldn’t see the new year. No new decade, no new century. Not after all of this.

But because of one mistake (the jury is still out on where it all went wrong), they had managed to.. do what, exactly? Yes, the world was saved and they didn’t technically get directly involved. It was still their heads on the chopping block at the end of the day- and they still had to stay safe, lest their trickery gets discovered.

The record skipped as it switched to a new instrumental track, this one slower than the previous. Crowley stared at Aziraphale’s profile, the lamplight encompassing her like a halo. Humanity had always been about moving forward, progressing. That had been what they wanted to protect the moment they faced their respective ex-bosses at the airbase that day. Heaven and Hell knew nothing of that. Always stagnant, stuck in the same spat from before time was even created.

Crowley wanted to move forward. Always wanted it. Wanted it back in Eden, as she first approached the Angel of the Eastern Gate, and wanted it half a century ago, as Aziraphale handed her the thermos of Holy Water. Aziraphale was always slow-going. Wary. Scared of making the wrong move, and scared of being tempted from her duties.

What duties remained now? Nothing. They took their orders and threw them out the window in the midst of the apocalypse. Aziraphale was on their side, as was Crowley. Maybe she was ready to move, too.

“It’s also about progress.” Crowley tilted an eyebrow at her point. Her glass magically refilled. “What to look forward to now that they’ve survived it all. Isn’t that the point?”

Aziraphale looked her in the eye, her blue eyes striking compared to the warm yellow light.

“Yes. They always move forward, even at the end of the world.” Aziraphale stared down at her glass with a small smile. “I suppose that’s why we fell in love, right?” Aziraphale fluttered a look at Crowley. “With the world, I mean.”

The record skipped again right in time with Crowley’s heart. The soft trumpet poured out from seeming all directions, and Hanshaw’s voice flowing around them.

I'm Flying high,

but I've got a feeling I'm falling…

Aziraphale and Crowley locked eyes.

Falling for nobody else but you…

God, Crowley wanted to move forward.

Crowley knocked back her full glass of champagne and stood quickly, startling Aziraphale.

“What are you-“

“D’you want to dance?” Crowley sputtered out quickly.

Aziraphale lifted her eyebrows in surprise before settling into a please smile. She set her glass down and stood, approaching Crowley. It suddenly occurred to her that she had never properly danced before.

“Let me show you.” Aziraphale reassured and seemingly reading her mind, taking her hand and leading to a space devoid of books. She linked hands with Crowley, swinging them back and forth. “I may have learned a thing or two back then.”

Crowley watched her movements closely and mirrored them, swaying to the rhythm and back again. Aziraphale let go with one hand and twirled inwards to Crowley’s arms. Her tartan dressed swirled around her knees and her blonde curls bounced along with her dancing.

“It’s called swing dancing.” She twirled back out and brought herself back in, holding her arm around Crowley this time and waltzing in time to the music. “I remember that they had only this back then. Music, dancing, and each other. Before their own world betrayed them.”

They fell silent again and swayed to the song, both deep in thought. The record skipped again- this time back to Armstrong.

When you're smilin’ Keep on smilin’… The whole world smiles with you…

Something heavy fell to the pit of Crowley’s stomach and she stilled. Aziraphale pulled back to look at her, moving her hand up and stroking Crowley’s face gently.

“Everything alright?”

Crowley nodded and suddenly felt choked up.

“Oh, Crowley.”

“No, it’sss fine.” Crowley insisted, wiping at her eyes. “I just hate slow songs.”

Aziraphale gave her an incredulous look, but still held her close. She laced her hand with Crowley’s and leaned their foreheads together.

“Crowley, I should say that I don’t have regrets about the past year.”

Crowley breathed out.

“You don’t?”

“No, I don’t.” Aziraphale pulled back and looked at her. “I’m glad we stopped the Apocalypse. I’m glad we’re on the same side. I’m glad we helped save the world.”

“More or less.”

Aziraphale laughed. “More or less.”

Crowley smiled.

“And, for what it’s worth,” Aziraphale continued, “I’m glad this New Year’s is important. If anything, it’s proven that we have much to live for. Our raison d’etre. Don’t you think?”

Crowley nodded slowly. Noise suddenly filtered into the bookshop over the music, quickly being realized as the sound of many drunk people out in the streets.

“I believe they’re counting down.”

“Do you want to go out and join them?” Aziraphale asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Not really.” Crowley couldn’t take her eyes off Aziraphale’s- and why would she? Her raison d’etre was right in front of her. She received a smile in return and the bookshop filled with flickering lights. Multiple colors bounced off Aziraphale’s pinned hair and cheering drunks stumbled past the outer windows.

Crowley leaned in slowly, then all at once as she connected her lips with Aziraphale’s. Aziraphale clasped Crowley’s face in her hands and kissed back fervently as they pressed into each other. Fireworks echoed across London just as butterflies exploded in Crowley’s belly.

Aziraphale pulled back after a moment and breathed, a smile breaking across her face.

“I’ve waited hundreds of years to do that.” She beamed.

“I waited thousands.” Crowley smiled, diving back in to kiss again at her angel’s surprised face. She kissed alongside her mouth and up her cheek. Aziraphale laughed.

“You could’ve said something, you naughty serpent!”

“But the anticipation was so sweet, wasn’t it?” Crowley teased. She dropped her hand down to tangle with Aziraphale’s again.

“Only because I am free to love you as I always have.” She responded, rubbing her thumb across Crowley’s reddening cheek. Crowley wanted to damn the charm that made her weak at the knees, but found she really couldn’t. Or even wanted to, really.

“Perhaps we should make a toast?” Aziraphale prompted. She poured the glasses once again and handed one to Crowley. “To the New Year.”

“To saving the humans.”

“To new beginnings.”

Crowley raised her glass at Aziraphale. “To the world.”

Aziraphale followed in kind, clinking her glass against Crowley’s.

“To us, and what the future may bring us.”

Crowley met her eyes and Aziraphale smiled. A new warmth flowed through her and she smiled back.

“To us.”

~

Songs mentioned:

West End Blues Louis Armstrong

I’ve Got a Feeling I’m Falling Annette Hanshaw

When You Smile (The Whole World Smiles With You) Louis Armstrong

[applepiewinchesters]

I Died When She Did (Aziraphale x Reader)

Requested by: Anonymous

Warnings: Angst, Death, Sadness

Prompts: “Just a little longer, we’re almost there” and “I died when she did”.

 The angel thought all of the soldiers had been taken care of, that they wouldn’t be a problem during the confrontation with the four horsemen. Ultimately though, there’s always one trigger happy soldier willing to fight till the end.

The four young kids in front of you had all just killed three fourths of the horsemen, it was actually rather amazing considering their age and stature. But they were some badass kids, you had to admit that.

Death had gone and there was time for a bit of celebration, even though you knew it definitely wasn’t over yet, there’s no way heaven and hell were giving up that easy.

You all turned though when you heard a shout, a soldier was coming towards you all, gun raised.

“Hands up now! All of you!” he shouted. Everyone put there hands up, not daring to make a move. “You all need to leave! You’re trespassing on government property, if you leave now no one has to get hurt!”

“We’ve really got a rather good explanation,” Aziraphale said, trying to reason with the young man.

“I said leave! Now!” the soldier yelled.

You made the mistake of taking a few steps forward, ready to defend your angel. The soldier aimed his gun and shot without another warning. You felt the bullet pierce your stomach, your hands flying to the wound where blood was quickly blossoming across your shirt.

Falling to your knees, you tried to take a breath, but you thought your body may be going into shock.

Aziraphale was by your side in an instant, catching you just before you fell to the side. He held you close, a look of absolute pain and worry crossing his features.

“What did you do?” Aziraphale asked, looking up at the soldier, he looked almost as shocked as you felt, he felt cold, confused, scared.

The soldier seemed surprised as well, looking from his gun to you, bleeding out on the ground.

“I-I didn’t…. I’m sorry, she moved…,” was all the soldier could get out until with a snap of Aziraphale’s fingers, the man was gone instantly.

Crowley hurried over as well, kneeling down beside Aziraphale, “She’s bleeding out angel, she needs a hospital,” he spoke, staying as calm as he could for his best friend.

Aziraphale nodded numbly as you coughed up a bit of blood, splattering the angel’s overcoat with red droplets. Standing with you in his arms, Aziraphale teleported about a block away from the best hospital in London.

You could feel yourself getting weaker by the moment, you were crying now as well, making your breathing come out in gasps. Aziraphale looked down at you as he carried you quickly through the crowds of rather concerned people.

“Just a little longer, we’re almost there my love,” Aziraphale said as he rounded the corner to the hospital, quickly bursting into the emergency room doors.

Everyone looked up and seeing the condition you were in, acted immediately. The nurses and doctors grabbed a gurney, bringing it to over to Aziraphale who was still holding you close, he looked from the gurney to you, reluctant to set you down.

This could be the last time he held you while you were alive, he didn’t want to let you go.

“Please place her on the gurney sir, we’re only here to help,” one of the nurses said.

Aziraphale only nodded, finally lying you on the gurney, before the rolled you away he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You can wait in here sir, we’ll let you know when we have news,” another nurse told him before they finally took you away.

Aziraphale couldn’t really think straight, the only images flashing through his mind were you, bleeding out on the concrete, you lying cold and dead in a casket, your grave stone…

He couldn’t think about that, not now, he had to have hope, so he sat down in one of the chairs away from other people, he’d hoped Crowley was doing alright without him, considering the earth hadn’t imploded yet, maybe they’d won.

But Aziraphale honestly didn’t care if they saved the world now, not if you weren’t going to be there with him.

He felt useless sitting there, he wanted to help, he wanted to hold your hand and tell you everything was going to be alright. So, he did the only thing he thought might help you, he bowed his head and prayed. He prayed to God, to the other angels, anyone who might listen.

Aziraphale couldn’t lose you, you were his world. He loved you more than that old bookshop of his, and that was saying something.

Crowley finally showed up about thirty minutes later, quietly sitting down next to the angel, unsure of what to say.

“Any news?” the demon asked finally.

Aziraphale shook his head, “No, nothing, she’s gone into surgery I believe.”

They were silent again, Aziraphale didn’t really feel like talking anyway, he was too afraid he’d start crying if he did.

Finally, about an hour later, a doctor walked out, pulling off his surgical mask and heading towards the angel, who stood quickly, Crowley rising to his feet as well. The doctor’s face was emotionless, that couldn’t be good.

“You’re here for Y/N Y/L/N, correct?” the doctor asked.

“Yes, I am,” Aziraphale said, his hands were balled into fists at his sides and he was already starting to shake.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor began, and the angel felt his heart rip in two, “there was nothing we could do, I’m afraid the bullet completely destroyed her liver, it was damaged beyond repair.”

Aziraphale only nodded curtly, he was trying to control his breathing, trying not to cry. He wanted to scream, he wanted to smite everyone in this room, he wanted to hurt the man who’d done this, but he couldn’t, he knew you wouldn’t approve.

“May I see her?” he asked. The doctor nodded solemnly and led Aziraphale down the hall to a lone drawn curtain. He pulled it back, motioning for the angel to go inside.

“Take as long as you need,” the doctor said before leaving once again.

A white sheet was draped over you, covering your body from the chest down. Your face looked peaceful now, no longer full of fear, your eyes were closed, you could be sleeping.

Aziraphale reached under the sheet, taking your hand, you were still a bit warm, the life not completely gone from you yet. He could no longer hold back the tears, they streamed down his cheeks as he let out a sob.

The angel wrapped an arm around your body, burying his face into your stomach as he sobbed. You were really gone, there was no coming back now. He thought of all the things he would no longer do, he wouldn’t hear your laugh, he wouldn’t slow dance with you in the middle of the bookshop, no more reading with you on the couch during rainy days. 

That was all gone, all because of a bullet. He’d forgotten how fragile human lives could be, but with you lying on this table, getting colder and colder by the minute, that reality was slowly setting in.

It was 45 minutes before he said his final goodbye, “I’m so sorry my dear, I love you,” he whispered, kissing your still, soft lips very gently before straightening himself out and with a snap of his fingers, was back in the bookshop.

*

Days later, Crowley had received a letter from the angel, it read:

Crowley,

Do not look for me, I do not wish to be among company at this point. I have no idea if I am ever coming back, so if this is our final goodbye, I am truly sorry. You were the greatest demon I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. But I can not be here, not without her. I died when she did. I do hope we meet again, under better circumstances. Goodbye.

Your friend,

Aziraphale

Crowley listened, as bad as he wanted to, he didn’t go looking for the angel he’d called his best friend for the last 6,000 years. Aziraphale was broken, and the demon could only hope he’d find a way to repair himself someday.

A/N: Okay, honestly kinda broke my own heart with this one haha. Thank you so much for this request I loved writing it. I hope you enjoyed it, as much as you can enjoy such a sad experience haha, thank you so much for reading! Love you all! ~ Sara :)

[niceandaccurateme]

Not Too Fast

Authors note: I wrote this at 1:00 AM in the notes app of my phone and then posted it using mobile, so sorry if the format is weird.

...

“I would like to kiss you.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows in surprise, lips parted as though he had been about to say something before Aziraphale had made his announcement. The angel wore a look of determination, punctuated by a slight blush on the apples of his cheeks. He looked as though he had to muster up a fair amount of courage just to say those six words.

And perhaps he had; Crowley had noticed his companion was being quieter than usual as they strolled through St. James Park on that crisp autumn morning. Normally Aziraphale was chatty, always prepared to talk about a book he was reading or a restaurant he was itching to try. But on this morning he had let Crowley lead the conversation, seemingly studying the scenery intently as the demon did most of the talking.

“We are in love,” Aziraphale continued to explain, clearing his throat as though he were about to make a business proposal. “A type of love you compared to human love. Human romantic love,” he clarified. “And when two humans are romantically involved they... well they kiss each other. And I would like to know what that feels like.”

He finished with a determined little nod of his chin and then looked to Crowley for his answer. Crowley wore a bemused expression. He tried not to laugh, biting his tongue in his mouth to hold it back. It wasn’t that he didn’t want kiss him, of course he did, but the innocent way in which the angel asked for it was just so comically cute. Here they were, two celestial (and ex-celestial) beings with six thousand years of shared history between them, already having admitted their love for each other, and Aziraphale felt the need to propose kissing him as though it were some strange and novel concept.

Not much had actually changed in their relationship since Crowley had confessed to Aziraphale just a few months ago. Crowley hadn’t particularly wanted it to. He didn’t confess to Aziraphale in the hopes of making their relationship physical. He simply, now that they were free of fear of repercussions from either side, wanted to explain that his feelings were more than that of just friendship. And, after all these years, finally learn if Aziraphale’s feelings were as deep as his own.

So, as of 4 months after the Almostpocalypse (or apocalamity, as Aziraphale had once jokingly described it), the only real difference in their relationship was that they now held hands when they took walks together. This seemingly snail-like pace didn’t bother Crowley in the slightest. He was just so happy to finally be able to relax with the person he loved without any fear, that he hadn’t really been thinking of anything else. But apparently, Aziraphale had.

“Alright then,” Crowley replied with a wrinkle of his nose and a devilish grin “Plant one on me,”

He leaned forward, lifting his glasses to his forehead and closing his eyes, then puckered his lips expectantly. Aziraphale’s face lit up with a glowing blush that extended all the way to the tips of his ears. The poor principality looked quite flustered at his companions cheeky response.

“W-well...” He sputtered “r-right, yes I’ll just...”

He then took a deep breath as though stealing himself, and leaned in. His lips pressed against Crowley’s chastely for a brief moment and before the demon even knew it he had pulled away again with a soft smacking sound of their lips parting. Aziraphale wore an expression of great pride as though he had accomplished a truly remarkable feat. However, this expression faltered as he saw the puzzled look Crowley gave him in return.

“Oh no, did I-... was that not how you’re supposed to do it?” He asked with a tinge of panic in his voice.

“No!” Crowley responded quickly, not wanting to put a damper on his loves mood. “I mean, yes you did it perfectly, angel. Absolutely... just right I mean really good,” he encouraged, putting his hands reassuringly on to the angel’s shoulders. “It’s just normally kisses last a bit longer than that,” he explained gently with an amused smile.

“Here,” He gently pulled Aziraphale back in, his face just inches away from the other’s. ���Let me show you,” he whispered, his warm breathe bouncing off the angel’s face and back on to his own. Then he closed the meager gap between them and kissed him again. This kiss was different though. Crowley’s inhumanly hot lips, gently and lovingly danced against Aziraphale’s. He cupped the angel’s cheek tenderly. His other arm curled around his love’s back, pulling their bodies close, their chests flush. Still he kept it chaste, resisting the urge to slide his tongue into the other’s mouth and deepen the kiss. Though he couldn’t resist temptation entirely and when he slowly started to pull away a moment later, he let his tongue graze across Aziraphale’s lip, getting a tantalizing, little taste of him.

Aziraphale didn’t open his eyes right away when they parted. It was as if he were still in the moment, savoring it. When his eyes did eventually flutter open, he looked dazed. A blissful, smile spread across his face and he giggled, bringing his fingers up to his lips.

“I think I understand why humans enjoy that now,” He said bashfully as he looked away, still beaming.

“Oh yeah?” Crowley asked with a grin, trying to contain his pride at the reaction he got. “Then we ought to do it more often then, huh angel?” He asked in a teasing voice, trying to catch Aziraphale’s gaze again, making the angel giggle more.

“Yes we certainly should.” Aziraphale replied, straightening his coat as he tried to regain a bit of composure. Though Crowley noticed the angel couldn’t manage to wipe the beaming smile off his face.

They walked off, hand in hand, both grinning like a couple of rosy-cheeked school kids.

[sylwritesstuff]

034) Obsession (844)

Part of the Light to Dancing 100x100 List.

Rating: PG

—-

He wouldn't call them an obsession. Certainly not. He knew exactly what they looked like. He'd been the first to see what they looked like in the light of day. He'd been the first to see what they looked like under cloudy skies, under the shade of an outstretched wing. He knew what they looked like amused, surprised, enthralled. He knew the mischievous glint they'd get right before a temptation or some minor wickedness was performed, just as he knew the difference between the two. He also knew the sheen of displeasure, horror, shock. 

Aziraphale knew them all and he... Well, he wasn't obsessed. He just missed them. As the years had passed, the dark lenses had grown in size and so had grown in coverage. Long gone were the days where serpentine eyes and minor miracles would be looked upon as worth worship. Polytheism was out of fashion now and an ever-changing wheel of "normalcy" was expected. 

There were too many genuinely talented street musicians for minor miracles to hold any sort of reverence and, sadly, golden snake eyes hadn't been normal in centuries. Millenia, if he was being honest. They weren't even normal to Aziraphale, frankly, but that had never mattered. Not once. They were special. They were Crowley's. 

And there they were, the gold lighting up his bookshop. It was a rare light in them as he sprawled over Aziraphale's loveseat, contentment. He'd seen it quite a bit in recent months whilst their side had been taking shape, but only in the quirk of his smile and the way his brow would soften, the way he'd fallen asleep on just that loveseat no less than three times because it was safe. They were safe to exist, to be, and it was amusement now. 

Aziraphale blinked, following Crowley's gaze to the two wine glasses in his hands. Or they had been wine glasses. A faint pink dusted his cheeks as he took in the freshly miracled champagne flutes. "Oh."

"Celebrating something, angel?" 

"No. Well- well, no. It was an accident."

Lanky legs unfolded from the loveseat, Crowley crossing to him to take one of the flutes. Aziraphale stayed quite happily trapped in golden eyes. He would never, in any way, ask that Crowley sacrifice comfort and stop wearing his sunglasses, but he'd enjoy every moment wherein he could see Crowley himself and not a reflection of his own image, distorted and shadowed.

"Didn't change the whole bottle, did you?" 

"Hm? Oh!" Aziraphale looked over his shoulder, pleased to see the bottle of lovely rosé they were supposed to be enjoying was still in its place. "No. I'll repour."

"S'fine, angel. What got you happy enough to accidentally swap for champagne?" 

"Nothing." Oh, yes, amusement he knew well. It was so close to mischief, they may as well have been the same, especially when his lips curled just so. He made quite the picture, his demon. 

"Angel," he purred, and there was the glint. 

"Stop that. You won't tempt me, you wily old serpent."

"It's not a temptation if I'm goading you into something righteous. Honesty is not a sin, last I checked."

"You have that look in your eyes, so stop."

"Maybe I should put the shades back on."

"No!" he exclaimed, surprising them both. Aziraphale quickly cleared his throat. "I mean, ah... That's hardly necessary."

"That's what did it?" 

"Oh, no."

"My eyes?" 

"Please stop."

"You've seen those trillions of times!" 

Aziraphale gulped from his flute, letting the bubbles explode pleasantly over his tongue as a way to buy himself time from this embarrassment. He didn't swallow or answer until Crowley cupped his chin and tipped his head back, brows arched over his eyes. No temptation, no amusement, just patient curiosity. 

"Not recently. Not until you're already drunk. Which I certainly don't hold against you in any way. Your sunglasses are quite thoroughly your style, and I do appreciate them. And if they make you comfortable, I could hardly begrudge-" 

"I forget they're on my face," he admitted, interrupted the tidal wave of explanation. 

There was a beat. "Pardon?" 

Crowley smiled. "I forget I'm wearing the shades, angel. They only provide actual shade when they're supposed to. Inside, they know better. When I'm drunk, they just stop cooperating."

"Ah."

"Did you think I wasn't comfortable showing my eyes to you?" 

"I had thought that perhaps... Well..."

Amusement came right back, but it held a deep well of fondness. It held more, the sweet tendrils so clear when his eyes were bare and they drew Aziraphale like a moth to flame. "I just forget, angel. If you want to see my eyes, you only have to remind me to take them off. Or," he added, knowing his angel well, "I'll just make a better effort to recall. Alright?" 

"Yes. Yes, I believe that's very fair."

Aziraphale beamed as their glasses clinked together, their mutual understanding as pleasing as the look in Crowley's eyes. It, too, was a reflection of himself, though not at all distorted or shadowed. It was quite pleasing, actually. 

[effable-ineffability]

Can I ask for some fight & separation followed by decades of Crowley engaging in self destructive behavior and decades of intense loneliness and longing on the angel’s part? Angsty angst being angstified? Or if you already have a similar fic... a link would do lol.

uh oh all right here’s some real angst and i am here for it and i have no apologies

this is gonna be in two parts, because one for crowley, and one for aziraphale, and also because apparently i have no self-control.  but also, if you know anything about me, you know i cannot not do happy endings so don’t worry too much ok

** content warning for implied drugs and sex, and very much not-implied alcohol

–

the place we used to love : part one

[read on ao3]

There was a drink in one hand, and something very hot in his other.  Crowley blinked, and realized that his cigarette had burned down to his fingers and was dutifully trying to turn those to ash as well.  He smothered it in the ashtray - well, near the ashtray at least - and drained the drink. It was refilled a moment later by the attentive bartender.

“Didn’t even - ” he hiccuped slightly, “ - even matter, ‘n th’ end.”  He waved his drink around. “S’not nonsense, I told ‘im. Is, he said.  ‘nd so I left, walked out.” Another hiccup, and he took a swig before he could spill the fresh drink.  “S’idiot. He is. Massive idiot. Massive, big ol’ idiot. Prat.” He pat his pockets with his empty hand.  “Where’re my smokes?” They were sitting in front of him. He pulled one out of the crumpled pack and put it between his lips.  “You ever fall ‘n love witha idiot before?” He tried to light the cigarette, and missed three times before the bartender took pity and lit it for him.  “Thanks. Idiot! Can’t believe… who’s he to say - ” another hiccup, “ - nonsense? He doesn’t even know. Doesn’t know. Can’t possibly know.”

The pub had closed an hour ago, but Crowley had refused to leave.  His head was swimming with the alcohol he had drank in startling excess, he kept seeing the bartender morph into twins and triplets, and he wasn’t even sure if she was real anymore.  No, the only part of his brain that wasn’t completely drowning reminded him, she must be real, because she just lit your cigarette.

“Idiot,” he mumbled, ashing near the ashtray and draining his drink again.

The bartender - her name was Ash, which Crowley was fairly certain he had made a joke about at some point within the last couple hours after his somethingth cigarette - hadn’t said much for the last hour while she had been cleaning up.  Ash had tried to get Crowley to leave when they closed, offering to call him a taxi to get him home safe; but he had laughed and said he had nowhere to go, and didn’t want to go there anyway. So she had allowed him to stay and continue drinking, mostly for fear of what he might do if he went out on his own.  (It had been the last coherent thing Crowley was able to do, miracling up a reason in Ash’s mind to let him stay. Seeing as how he couldn’t even light a cigarette now, he was glad she didn’t seem to think anything was amiss.)

“Husband?” she asked carefully when Crowley finally fell silent.  “Or boyfriend?” As far as she could tell, this redheaded man in sunglasses had stomped into the pub some four hours ago, threw himself onto a stool at the bar, and began a tirade that lasted well past closing time about a man he was in love with who was, if he was to be believed, an idiot; this supposed idiot had disagreed about something nondescript - she wasn’t able to get this answer out of the drunk man; something about work? - and walked out.  Or maybe the redhead had walked out. She wasn’t really clear on the details, despite having listened to the story for hours, because they seemed to keep changing.

Crowley snorted.  “Neither. Jussa idiot.”

“You clearly care about him a lot,” she persisted.

“But he doesn’t, see?  Doesn’t care. Nonsense.  Said nonsense.”

Ash sighed, and leaned on the bar to level a steady glance at him.  “Look, …er, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Crowley,” he said.

“All right.  Look, Crowley.  This idiot of yours, you clearly care about him.  Quite a bit. So don’t you think it would benefit you to talk to him about this?”

Crowley laughed, but was unfortunately halfway through a drag from the cigarette, and ended up coughing the smoke back up.  “Talk to him?” he repeated, gasping for air. “S’stupid! What’m I s’posed to say?”

“Tell him you love him,” Ash said simply.

He slammed his glass down; it shattered, and Ash leapt back with a cry of surprise.  Crowley’s glasses had slipped down his nose, and for the first time, she saw his eyes.  What struck her most wasn’t the slit pupils, or even the inhuman color - it was the overwhelming pain of loss that sliced right to her core.  “Weren’t you listening?” he spat, his anger not directed at her, but instead at everything around him.  “I did! S’what started all this.”

(one year later)

Crowley sat down on his regular stool, already with a cigarette balancing between his lips.  He was wearing a slinky dress the color of an expensive port, and his hair was in slightly frizzy waves around his shoulders.  One of his sleek, black heels was scuffed, but his jewelry was all flawless gold. He made an indistinct wave, and Ash swept over a second later with a glass of his preferred whiskey.  “That’s a nice dress,” she remarked, “looks good with your hair.” Then, gently, she asked, “How’re you feeling tonight?”

He rubbed his head slightly, and drained the glass in one without moving the cigarette.  “High,” he said simply. “Dunno on what. Probably shouldn’t be drinking. Leave the bottle.”

She did so, but didn’t leave.  “Still haven’t heard from him?”

“Am I supposed to?” he snapped.

“Do you want to?” she asked instead.

“Stupid question.”  He poured himself another glass, and drained it as well.  “Wanted to dance tonight,” he said instead. “Rain fucked up my hair.”

“Your make-up’s still flawless,” Ash offered in consolation.

He scoffed.  “Course it is.”  He poured a third glass, but just held this one for the moment.  With a sigh, he motioned with his free hand, and Ash obediently produced a lighter to light his cigarette for him.  “Figured I’d wait it out here,” he said, leaving a trail of smoke behind as he motioned to the front windows.

“I can fix your hair for you, before you leave, if you’d like.”

“How’s that?”

“I’m leaving for the airport after work, so I’ve got my bags here with me.  Hair dryer, hair spray, brushes, all packed up. I can dig ‘em up for you, though.”

Crowley found himself smiling.  “You’re sweet.”

Ash smiled lightly in return.  “Happy to help.”

Two hours later, when the rain had let up, however, Ash found Crowley being chatted up by a rather drunk businessman.  Crowley was playing along, all coy giggles and sidelong glances. Ash gave the two appropriate distance, and watched - a little disappointed - as Crowley took the man’s hand and tugged him through the crowds of people towards the back door.  Just before they both disappeared through it, Crowley caught Ash’s eye and gave her a little wink. Ash sighed.

Ten minutes later, Crowley reentered the building, hair properly mussed up, dress sliding off of one shoulder, and wiping the corner of his mouth ungracefully.  He slipped into an “employees only” back room, where Ash followed a moment later.

“You know,” she said, reaching over to pull his hair back from his face as he retched into a trashcan, “there are nicer ways of coping.”

“Ssh,” he hissed at her, spitting something that she didn’t want to see, then leaning on his arms braced on either side of the trashcan.

“More drugs?” she asked, tying his hair into a messy but effective ponytail with a spare hair tie she had retrieved from her purse fifteen minutes ago.

“Have to ask?”

“Your knees are dirty.”

“So?”

“You’re going to get hurt one of these days.”

Crowley didn’t respond immediately.  In fact, he didn’t respond at all. He straightened, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and gave Ash a look that said, quite plainly, They can try.

(seven years later)

“How’s the wife?” Crowley asked.

“Pregnant!” Ash said happily.  “Oh, I haven’t seen you all week, we just found out a few days ago.”

“Congrats,” he said, raising his glass in a toast, then emptied it.  “And the boyfriend?”

“Leaving for France in the morning.  Sophie and I are going to miss him, but we’re going to visit next month, so it won’t be so bad.”  She lit his cigarette. “And you? How’s things?”

He shrugged and was quiet for a moment before saying, very softly, “Thought I saw him today.”

Ash had been halfway through rinsing some glasses, but stopped and turned back to Crowley.  “Did you?” she asked carefully. He hadn’t mentioned anything about his lost love in three years.

The hand holding his cigarette was also now tangled in his hair.  “Thought I did. Wasn’t him.” He reached up with his other hand and rubbed at his eyes under his glasses.  Ash caught a glimpse of deep, purple bags.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“Don’t be.  Hasn’t even been a decade.  He’s a stubborn bastard. He’s gonna make me wait.”

(four years later)

“You’re bleeding.”  Ash passed Crowley a rag.  “Another fight?”

He tugged his sleeve up and wrapped the rag around his forearm before Ash could see the wound properly.  “Yeah,” he said.

“You shouldn’t drink when you’re bleeding.”

“Shouldn’t drink when I’m high either, but that never stopped me.”  He took the bottle from her and took a swig directly from it.

“Bad day?” she guessed gently.

He sneered, setting the bottle down.  “What gave it away?”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Do I ever?”

“Sometimes.”

Crowley sighed, leaning forward until his head hit the bottle.  “I saw him today.”

“Actually him?”

“Actually him.  He was… sitting on our— on the bench.  At the park. Feeding ducks.”

“Oh.”

“S’moved on, hasn’t he.  Doing the things we used to do, but alone.  Moved on.”

“Or he’s missing you.”

“Course he doesn’t miss me.  Twelve bloody years, and not a word.”

“You haven’t talked to him either.”

He swung the bottle at her lightly, with no real threat.  “Get outta here with your logic. Gimme a glass. Don’t need to pass out til I find someone willing to punch me.”

(eight years later)

Crowley stood outside the building, smoking, as the rain cascaded down around him.  He was dressed simply, a sleek V-neck shirt and his favorite leather pants with dark snakeskin boots.  There was a bruise on his neck, and bandages wrapped around his left arm.

“Sorry I’m late,” Ash panted, hurrying up to him and lowering her umbrella as she joined him under the awning.  “Sophie’s appointment ran late, and then we had to get Lily to her friend’s house.”

“S’fine,” he mumbled.  “How’s Sophie?”

Ash mustered up a smile.  “She’s doing all right. Better than she should be, according to the doctor, so we’re being optimistic.”

Crowley looked her up and down.  The years had taken their toll on her, but he could still see the same fresh-out-of-college girl that had let him stay past closing all those years ago.  She was thinner than he thought she should be, but he knew she wasn’t eating much with the stress she was under. “Good,” he said simply.

They stood in silence while Crowley continued smoking.  As he was just about done, Ash cleared her throat. “How are you, then?”

He gave her a brittle smile.  “You don’t want to hear about that.”

“It’s been twenty years, Crowley.  If I didn’t want to hear about that, I would have kicked you out a decade ago.”

Twenty years.  Twenty years since the last time he had spoken to Aziraphale.  He flicked the cigarette butt into the street, and rubbed his head.  “M’not good,” he admitted.

“I know.”  She took him by the arm, and led him into the pub.

It was empty.  It had closed for good sometime last week, and was going to be demolished tomorrow.  But Ash - sentimental thing that she was - had insisted on pouring him one more drink.  She sat him down in his usual, well-worn stool, and slipped behind the bar, shrugging her coat off and setting her bag and umbrella down.  “I brought something special for this evening,” she said, reaching into her bag and pulling out two bottles. “For you, the same whiskey you drank that first night I met you.”  She set it down in front of him, along with a glass. “And for me, the same wine you gave me and Sophie for our wedding. Took me a while to track both of these down, but I thought they’d be appropriate.”

Crowley nodded, the slightest of smiles still tugging at the corners of his mouth.  “Thanks,” he said.

She opened both bottles and poured a drink them each a drink; they sipped in silence.  Ash noted that Crowley looked more exhausted than usual. Twenty years, and he still looked exactly the same, but the exhaustion was something to see in more subtle ways.  The slope of his shoulders. The bruises under his eyes. The shake in his hands. “So,” she said.

“Can’t stay away anymore,” Crowley said; apparently, that was all the prompt he needed.  “S’been torture. Drugs, alcohol, sex, violence… it numbs it all for a while, but then everything just comes back.  How’m I supposed to ignore something when it won’t go away?” He laughed a little. “Pain’s still here, twenty years later.  Figured, if it’s still here now, it really isn’t going anywhere, is it? So fuck it, what else can I lose, right? Gonna get drunk,” he raised his glass in acknowledgement, “and gonna march right up to his stupid shop, and gonna give ‘im a piece of my mind.”

“Good.”  Ash said this firmly with a single nod.  She had waited damn near twenty years for Crowley to get to this point, and was glad he was finally here.  “You’ll let me know how it goes?”

He snorted, and held his glass out towards her.  “Babe, you’re along for the ride, aren’t you?”

She tapped her glass to his with a smile.  “Glad to be here.”

[southomens]

Day 15 of an Ineffable Holiday: By the Fire

Hello, lovely people! Before I post the fic, I’d like to mention that this is the second chapter to Hot Cocoa (x), which I edited a bit on Ao3 so it would nicely fit with this.

Anyways, please enjoy. I had so much fun writing this :)

Aziraphale blankly stared at the crackling fire for a while, not really seeing the dancing flames. He had miracled the empty cocoa mug away and now he didn’t really know what to do with his hands. His brain was overwhelmed by the slim demon cuddling him. Only now was he realising for how long he had been wishing for a moment like this. 

Crowley moved his hand to place it on the angel’s shoulder, where it rested more comfortably. Aziraphale held his breath until Crowley started drawing small patterns, caressing him. Just when the angel was relaxing into it once again, Crowley halted and withdrew his hand.

“I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean to- is it-” Crowley stuttered.

“No, no. Please, dear, continue. If you would like to, that is,” Aziraphale quickly answered. He instinctively raised his own hand to take Crowley’s back to where it was, but the demon had already resumed the gentle petting.

They stayed that way for a while, Aziraphale pretending to be hypnotised by the dancing fire but actually being hypnotised by the patterns Crowley was drawing, and Crowley entranced by the dancing reflections of light on the angel’s skin. 

After a few moments, Crowley regained enough confidence to tentatively restart breathing. Aziraphale’s latest cologne invaded all his senses, making him feel a little bit dizzy in the best possible way. Just like when you have drunk the exact amount of alcohol to find everything funny while still aware of your surroundings. Without planning, he drew the angel closer and sniffed his hair, curls tickling his nose. He opened his eyes widely and tensed, waiting for Aziraphale to react. Sniffing his hair? That surely would grant him a kick in the ass for being a weirdo.

“Your cologne is delightful, Crowley,” Aziraphale said instead. “Where did you buy it?” Small talk seemed safe enough.

“Oh, uh… Thanks. It’s, uhm, I made it myself. Well, not made it, made it. Just- miracled it,” he answered. “You like it?” he asked, as if that just had hit him.

“I do, yes. It really suits you,” Aziraphale said as he turned his head to look at Crowley in an attempt to reinforce the message. He miscalculated and accidentally bumped his nose with Crowley’s. “Oh, sorry, dear,” he giggled. “This cuddling activity does shorten distances.” Aziraphale let out an awkward chuckle before resuming his fire staring.

“I guess it does, yeah,” Crowley agreed and did his own version of an awkward chuckle. 

The fire was slowly dying, leaving warm embers behind. It had been a long time since the Christmas music had faded away, but neither of them had noticed it. Crowley yawned and slowly closed his eyes, giving in to the warm comfort of the moment.

“Crowley, you seem tired. Should we put this on hold so you can take a nap?” Aziraphale started to get up but found a firm hand pushing him back.

“It’s alright, angel. I can doze off here. If you don’t mind,” he slurred, sleepiness taking over him.

“Oh, of course I don’t mind. But, Crowley, wouldn’t it be more… I mean, if you are alright with it, that is,” Aziraphale said, struggling to make his point. “Perhaps it would be best if we laid down? Make it more comfortable for you while exploring the next phase of cuddling? For research purposes,” Aziraphale finally suggested. That woke up the demon enough for him to open his eyes and stare at the angel’s temple trying to process it.

“Uh… yeah, yeah, why not? Good idea, actually,” he stammered. Aziraphale slowly set himself free of the embrace and shuddered at the loss of contact. He helped Crowley to a lying position, and rested his head on the demon’s chest. Crowley threw his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders once more and Aziraphale threw his arm around Crowley’s belly.

“You were right, angel. This is good,” Crowley murmured, tilting his face just enough to rest it on top of Aziraphale’s head.

“It is… We could even do this again.” Aziraphale turned his face up to look at the demon. Crowley turned his in response and looked at him through almost closed eyelids. The angel was looking at him with his wide grey eyes, pouting just a little bit. The demon could not resist that look, not in a million years.

“Whatever you want, angel,” he said and, feeling brave for a moment, he leaned forward to gently kiss him on the tip of his nose. Much like Aziraphale had bumped their noses earlier that day, Crowley failed to calculate the new shortened distances they were working with and ended up clashing his lips against that little pout. “Ngk!” He backed up as quickly as he could, eyes wide open in fear, and saw Aziraphale’s startled expression. “Wh- Sorry, I’m- Just- Nhgh.” Crowley didn’t dare to move, not that his limbs would have responded.

“Crowley I-” Aziraphale suddenly felt he needed to apologise. “It’s ok,” he finally said. “I’m not mad, I- well, to be perfectly honest…” Aziraphale paused, looking for the right words. “I was kind of expecting this development of events,” he said. “If we were following typical human behaviour, that is,” he added. “It was good.”

“It was?” Crowley asked, trying to calm his hammering heart. It had happened so fast he couldn’t really recall it.

“It was for me. Wasn’t it for you?” Aziraphale asked, doubt in his voice.

“Uh… No, no. I mean, yes. I mean, I don’t know! I-” he dragged his free hand over his face, frustrated. He sighed before continuing, “It was too short so I don’t really know if it was good or not.”

Aziraphale nodded, frowning a bit as he considered Crowley’s answer.

“Taking into account the evidence - that is, that humans do seem to enjoy it and that I found it to be good… Should we try it again? Slow enough for you to see if it’s good or not. For knowledge’s sake, of course” Aziraphale nodded again, happy with his own conclusion.

“That seems smart enough,” Crowley said.

“Alrighty then,” Aziraphale said. “Shall I?” he offered and put his hand on Crowley’s cheek. “To avoid miscalculations,” he explained. Crowley nodded and took Aziraphale by the wrist before closing the distance between them at a painstakingly slow pace. He could now baske on Aziraphale’s gentle eyes, his perky nose, his flushed cheeks, his soft lips. He momentarily wondered if they would be as soft as they looked. He internally shrugged, he was about to find out.

Dreading and longing for the moment, Crowley finally covered the last inch between them and placed his lips over Aziraphale’s. His heartbeat was deafening in his ears and his nose was overwhelmed by the angel’s scent but what he would recall afterwards was the gentleness of the touch, how warmer and sweeter than anticipated it was. This was definitely good.

Just too soon, Aziraphale broke the kiss but didn’t part from Crowley. He stayed there, mere inches away - a distance so short it could be so easily covered - and looked at Crowley, waiting.

“Was that good?” Aziraphale whispered in a trembling voice.

Words abandoned Crowley once more but he didn’t mind. Instead, he drew Aziraphale close and kissed him deeply, a confirmation that it wasn’t good. It was perfect.

[wordsintimeandspace]

Better With You (4/6)

Due to a petty feud between their respective department heads, Crowley and Aziraphale have been hiding their friendship for months. When they’re suddenly stuck in lockdown amidst a pandemic, Crowley is not coping well. Thankfully, Aziraphale is there for him - but their changing relationship means that keeping secrets from their bosses only becomes more of a challenge.

Crowley/Aziraphale, rated M (for chapter 4). Read on tumblr or AO3.

When Crowley woke, he felt more rested than he had in a very long time. The bed was warm and comfortable as he snuggled deeper into the blanket. He took a deep breath, and the faint trace of a foreign washing powder on the sheets finally reminded him why exactly he woke feeling rested and comfortable instead of feeling like shit.

He was in Aziraphale’s flat. Not only that, he was in Aziraphale’s bed, and he could feel a warm body pressed right against his shoulder. The sudden closeness after the weeks of isolation made Crowley’s head spin.

At some point last night they had managed to pull apart from their lazy kissing, much too Crowley’s disdain, but Aziraphale had insisted that they should eat some dinner. Afterwards Aziraphale had kissed him again, just like he’d promised he would, and they had stumbled into Aziraphale’s bedroom. For the first time in weeks sleep had claimed Crowley almost instantly, washing over him like a wave as soon as his head had hit the pillow.

Last night, he had been way too exhausted to think about anything else but sleeping, but now Crowley couldn’t help but remember Aziraphale’s kisses, both the soft, gentle ones and the ones that went deeper, more passionate. He remembered Aziraphale’s slowly exploring hands as well, the way his fingers had scraped over his scalp and his palms had pressed against his back where his shirt had ridden up. He wanted to get Aziraphale’s hands back onto his body. Heat coiled low in Crowley’s belly at the thought, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

Crowley wasn’t quite used to this feeling - as much as he enjoyed sex on occasion, he could count the number of people to whom he’d felt this exact kind of attraction to on one hand. If it did occur, especially so early in a new relationship, it was usually overwhelming enough that he didn’t quite know what to do with it.

So instead of rolling over and pressing his hips against Aziraphale’s warm body, chasing for friction, Crowley stayed where he was and simply opened his eyes.

Aziraphale was sitting in bed next to him, thigh pressed against Crowley’s shoulder, a book in his hands and his ridiculous glasses perched on the tip of his nose. He looked over at Crowley immediately, lips curling into a soft smile.

“Good morning, my dear,” he said.

"Morning. How long was I asleep?" Crowley asked with a gravelly voice, blinking against the too bright light streaming through the windows.

"It's half past ten, if that answers your question."

"Ugh.” He ran a hand over his face. “Haven't slept that long in a while."

"Looks like you needed it."

"Mhm." The urge to touch Aziraphale properly finally became overbearing, and Crowley rolled over, slinging an arm over Aziraphale's lap and resting his forehead against his thigh. That he could actually touch Aziraphale now whenever he felt the urge was nothing short of astonishing. He heard paper rustling as Aziraphale set his book aside, and a moment later there was a hand in his hair, scratching gently along his scalp and down to the nape of his neck. A shiver ran down Crowley’s spine and he let out a content hum.

“Did you sleep well?” Aziraphale asked, so gentle and quiet that it nearly lulled Crowley back to sleep.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, closing his eyes as Aziraphale continued to pet his hair. “And you?”

“Wonderfully. It was a pleasure to hold you, darling.”

Crowley let out a strangled sound from the back of his throat, tightening his grip around Aziraphale’s hips. Aziraphale was going to kill him eventually, if he continued to say things like that. Aziraphale chuckled above him, a happy little sound that made Crowley’s heart soar.

"This feels weird," Crowley finally said, as soon as he trusted his own voice again.

"What does, darling?"

"Being happy. When the world outside is still going to shit."

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment. "I know. But there's nothing else we can do."

"Guess not."

"The best we can do is to keep us and others safe by just staying put."

Crowley cracked an eye open, smirking up at Aziraphale. "Staying put, eh? Is that your way of saying that you want to keep me in bed all day, angel?"

Aziraphale laughed again, tightening his grip in Crowley’s hair for just a moment. It was enough to send a shiver down Crowley’s spine. “As tempting as that is, I think breakfast is in order first. I have been watching you sleep for a few hours now and I’m getting a bit peckish.”

“You could have gotten up, you know.”

“And leave you all alone? Absolutely not.”

Reluctantly, Crowley pulled away from Aziraphale. He rolled on his back, looking up to him. Heat rushed to his cheeks. “Look, what happened yesterday doesn’t mean I need supervision 24/7 now,” he said, squirming under Aziraphale’s attentive gaze. “I’m alright, really. No need to coddle me.”

Aziraphale only smiled down at him. "I'm not coddling,” he said softly. “But you've seen my books - I simply like to be careful with things that are precious to me."

Crowley let out a groan and buried his face in his hands. Yep, this was definitely going to kill him. "Fuck, you're a sap. I should have known you're a sap."

“Yes, darling,” Aziraphale said with a chuckle. “I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to that. Come on, breakfast now.”

Crowley didn’t protest as Aziraphale pried his hands away from his face and pulled him out of bed. As soon as they were upright Aziraphale’s arms were around him, soft belly pressed against Crowley’s lanky frame. Their lips slotted together like it was the most natural thing in the world. They got lost in the kiss for a while, quietly exploring each other’s mouths as they held each other close.

Crowley grinned as they eventually pulled apart. “I’m not the breakfast you had in mind, am I?” he asked.

“No, you’re a menace,” Aziraphale huffed, but he was smiling, so Crowley only snickered as Aziraphale finally ushered him out of the bedroom.

It was terribly domestic, standing in Aziraphale’s kitchen in their pyjamas with sleep rumpled hair, dancing around each other and stealing kisses as Crowley made tea and toast and Aziraphale scrambled eggs in the pan. As soon as they sat down at the table with their plates Crowley realized that he was actually hungry and scarfed down his breakfast in a matter of minutes, while Aziraphale took each bite carefully, savouring the taste, letting out pleased little hums. Crowley smiled to himself, happy to sip his tea and watch Aziraphale eat. It was good that some things didn’t change between them.

“What do you want to do today, my dear?” Aziraphale asked when he was finally done and pushed the plates aside.

“Dunno.” Crowley stretched his arms above his head, wrinkling his nose. “I think I need a shower first.”

Aziraphale regarded him with a careful look and was quiet long enough that Crowley started to squirm in his seat. “You know,” Aziraphale started slowly, reaching for Crowley’s hand that rested between them on the table. “I have a perfectly comfortable bathtub as well.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh?”

Gently, Aziraphale lifted Crowley’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Crowley shivered at the soft caress. “Yes. Would you allow me to run you a bath? Take care of you?”

Crowley’s heart skipped a beat. The notion of Aziraphale wanting to take care of him after Crowley had always been left to fend for himself for as long as he could remember was both exhilarating and completely overwhelming. He suddenly felt achingly vulnerable, sitting there while Aziraphale’s piercing blue eyes never left his face. Aziraphale had always read him like a book, so there was no way Crowley could hide how much he yearned for exactly that. Crowley realized with a start what sort of power Aziraphale held over him. The thought should have been terrifying, maybe, but it only made Crowley’s head swim in the best possible way. Aziraphale could easily use all these things against him, but instead he showed him nothing but love and kindness, offering what Crowley wanted and needed without him even having to ask for it. Crowley let out a shuddering breath.

“Yes, please,” he finally managed to croak out, and was rewarded with a blinding smile on Aziraphale’s lips.

“Wonderful.”

“But I want you to join me,” Crowley blurted out before he could stop himself.

Aziraphale went still. He slowly lowered Crowley’s hand onto the table and Crowley’s stomach dropped. “Crowley, I think we should talk about a few things,” he said with a frown.

“I’m sorry, I-” Crowley stammered, but Aziraphale just went on.

“I did say that you should take all the time you need for this conversation, but I think I need to understand what being demisexual means for you specifically. Just so I know what you’re comfortable with. I don’t want to overstep any boundaries on accident.”

Heat rushed into Crowley’s cheeks. “I- I did not mean it like that, when I asked you to join me,” he spluttered. “I just want to be close to you. Touch you. And I don’t mind being naked around people I trust, or I wouldn’t have asked.”

Aziraphale’s eyes were shining. “I cherish your trust in me,” Aziraphale said softly.

Crowley tore his gaze away from Aziraphale’s face, blushing even deeper. “I’m- yeah. Course I trust you. And, um, I’m generally comfortable with the stuff we’ve been doing. Cuddling. Kissing. Kissing is great. And, um, sexual attraction or not, I still like sex. Just for the record. With, err, the right person. I just need to go slow, sometimes.”

“And do you think I could be the right person?” Aziraphale asked, his voice calm and even. He was really just asking, Crowley realized with a start. There was no expectation, no hidden hope - all the things that could easily make Crowley too uncomfortable to try these things. He let out a long breath and got to his feet, leaning down to Aziraphale to cup his round cheeks in his hands.

“Aziraphale,” he breathed out. “You’re the most right person that has ever existed on this planet.”

Aziraphale’s lips twitched. “And you say I’m the sap.”

Crowley groaned. “You are. And you’re already rubbing off on me. You’re a terrible influence, angel.”

“Nonsense. No matter how much you like to pretend otherwise, you’re already sweet all on your own, aren’t you?” Aziraphale asked, his eyes sparkling.

Crowley pulled him closer, burying his nose in Aziraphale’s soft white curls to escape his gaze. “Hnk, yeah, well,” he mumbled. “Maybe. Don’t tell anyone.”

“I would never,” Aziraphale reassured him, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s waist.

“Come on then. Bath now. You don’t want to make empty promises, do you?”

“Of course not. Come along, my dear.”

Aziraphale led him into the bathroom, where Crowley leaned against the sink as he watched Aziraphale fuss first over the temperature of the water and then over his impressive collection of bath supplements. Soon steam was rising in the air, along with the soothing smell of lavender, and Aziraphale stepped away from the tub while he let the water in. He stopped right in front of Crowley, grabbing the hem of Crowley’s shirt.

“Can I take this off?” he asked. As soon as Crowley nodded his consent, Aziraphale pulled the shirt over his head. Crowley shivered as Aziraphale ran his hands down Crowley’s side, and held his breath as they came to a stop on his hips. Aziraphale gave him some time, his thumbs drawing small circles onto Crowley’s skin until finally Crowley relaxed and let out a breath.

Aziraphale smiled. “This as well?” he asked, curling his fingers into the soft fabric of Crowley’s pyjama bottoms.

“Yeah,” Crowley croaked, heart skipping a beat as Aziraphale slid both his pyjamas and his boxers down his hips. Crowley stepped out of them, squirming a little after he was suddenly naked while Aziraphale still had to lose one of his too many layers.

“Beautiful,” Aziraphale breathed out, running his fingers up Crowley’s sides and over his shoulders, pulling him down enough to press a kiss to his lips. “Get into the bath, dear, before you get cold.”

Crowley complied and stepped into the tub, letting out a groan of pleasure as he submerged into the hot water and the pile of bubbles. It was the perfect temperature, and he stretched out in the comfortably large tub, closing his eyes for a second.

“Comfortable?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley opened his eyes again. Aziraphale was still fully dressed, and that just wouldn’t do. “Almost. Strip and get in here, angel.”

Aziraphale blushed at the command, but obediently started on the buttons of his pyjamas. Crowley watched with bated breath as he popped open one button after another, revealing a soft white undershirt.

“Do you have to stare?” Aziraphale huffed as he slid the shirt off his shoulders and nervously fingered the hem of his undershirt.

“Yes,” Crowley grinned. “Come on, Aziraphale, you can’t possibly be shy now after you just stripped me naked.”

“Fine.” Aziraphale hesitated just a second longer before pulling the shirt over his head. He searched Crowley’s gaze as soon as he sat it down onto the neat pile of clothes, a hint of vulnerability shining in his eyes.

“Angel, you’re gorgeous,” Crowley reassured him, letting his eyes wander over Aziraphale’s naked torso. And he was, every inch of his skin. His thick arms, his sturdy shoulders, and his soft, round belly with faint stretch marks at his sides that were just begging to be kissed. Crowley filed the thought away for another time.

Aziraphale blushed under Crowley’s gaze. “You really think so?”

“Yes,” Crowley breathed out. “Absolutely breathtaking. Honestly, I might swoon at the sight so you better get in here to make sure I don’t drown.”

“Such a romantic, you are,” Aziraphale said with a roll of his eyes, but he finally complied. He pushed his pyjama bottoms off his hips, folding them neatly before stepping towards the tub. Crowley scooted forward so that Aziraphale could slip into the bath behind him. As soon as he was settled Aziraphale reached out to him, urging Crowley to lie back.

Crowley relaxed against him, breath stuttering as he took in all the sensations.

Hugging and cuddling and kissing, everything they’d been doing since the previous day, had already been great. It had been enough to calm the buzzing under Crowley’s skin that constantly longed for touch. But this was even better. It was glorious: Aziraphale’s naked chest against his back, his thighs bracketing him on either side of his hips, one strong arm wrapped around his belly to keep him snug against Aziraphale while the other hand gently stroked his chest.

“How is this?” Aziraphale asked, his voice low and rumbling in Crowley’s ear. “Comfortable?”

“Yesss,” Crowley hissed, closing his eyes in bliss as Aziraphale’s breath ghosted over his neck.

“Good. I’m glad.”

For a while, they just quietly enjoyed each other’s closeness. Crowley blinked wearily as Aziraphale shifted behind him at some point, and then needed a moment to realize that Aziraphale was holding a washcloth over his chest.

“Allow me?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley gulped, his heart swelling with affection. He could only nod.

Oh so gently, Aziraphale ran the washcloth over Crowley’s skin. He started with his hands, carefully caressing every finger before moving over his palm and his wrist and finally up his arms. Aziraphale moved to Crowley’s neck, slowly dragging the soft fabric of the washcloth over the sensitive skin there, and Crowley bit his lip to stifle a moan. Aziraphale was still so close, his lips pressed to the side of Crowley’s head just over his ear, that he had no doubt Aziraphale heard it anyway. Aziraphale didn’t seem bothered and only moved on to Crowley’s shoulders at the exact same slow and torturous pace. Crowley’s head was spinning by the time he finally moved down Crowley’s chest. He tried not to squirm in Aziraphale’s grip as he moved the washcloth over his nipples, afraid it would make Aziraphale stop, but he couldn’t suppress the quivering sigh as Aziraphale’s touches wandered down his stomach.

It wasn't necessarily sexual, Crowley mused, the gentle touches intended to provide comfort instead of making him all hot and bothered, but his body didn't seem to get the message. He was throbbing by the time Aziraphale moved the washcloth over Crowley’s hips, carefully avoiding where Crowley wanted him most. A whine escaped Crowley’s lips before he could stop it.

“Darling,” Aziraphale whispered in his ear, tightening his grip around Crowley’s waist. “Do you want me to touch you?”

Despite everything, Crowley couldn’t resist a bit of a quip. “You are touching me,” he gasped. “And it’s great, don’t you dare stop.”

Aziraphale laughed, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “You know what I mean. Do you want me to touch your cock, darling.”

A strangled sound escaped Crowley’s throat as Aziraphale’s words sent a rush of heat through him.

“Or would you rather do it yourself?” Aziraphale continued, his voice low. “Do you want some privacy, or would you let me watch how you bring yourself pleasure?”

Crowley gasped, head swimming with arousal. “No, please. Please touch me,” he begged.

“Will you tell me if you change your mind? Whenever something doesn’t feel good?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Angel, please.” Crowley knew he was whining by now, but he felt like he might combust if he didn’t get Aziraphale’s hand on him right this second. Thankfully, Aziraphale finally took pity on him. A groan escaped Crowley’s lips as Aziraphale wrapped his hand around him.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Aziraphale murmured as he stroked Crowley, slowly and oh so gently. Crowley only barely resisted the urge to buck his hips, trying to get more friction. Aziraphale continued exactly like he had explored the rest of Crowley’s body before: carefully and thoroughly, not changing his unhurried pace until Crowley was panting and squirming in his arms. Only then did he speed up his movements, gripping him tighter, all while murmuring quiet words of praise into Crowley’s ear. Strung up as he was, it didn’t take much more to take Crowley right to the edge.

“Let go, my darling. I’ve got you,” Aziraphale whispered right before he latched his lips onto Crowley’s neck and sucked. Crowley tumbled over the edge as pleasure surged through him, white-hot and blinding. He gasped and shuddered through his release, only vaguely aware of Aziraphale pressing soft kisses to his neck and gently stroking his stomach.

Eventually, Crowley went slack in Aziraphale’s arms as he caught his breath. “Christ, angel,” he finally managed to get out.

Aziraphale chuckled. “Good?” he asked, sounding just a little bit smug.

“Yes. Obviously.” With the last bit of his strength, Crowley turned in Aziraphale’s arms to catch his lips with his. They kissed for a long while, slowly and without hurry, until Crowley couldn’t ignore any longer that Aziraphale was still hard against his hip.

He pulled away from the kiss and reached out for him, but Aziraphale caught his hand and brought it to his lips instead. Gently, he pressed a kiss to Crowley’s knuckles.

“It’s alright,” Aziraphale said quietly, a soft smile on his lips. “That’s for another time, if you want. Rest now, my darling.”

Crowley half-heartedly grumbled a protest, but he was tired, all of a sudden, worn out by the last weeks and the sudden onslaught of emotions since the last day. He collapsed back against Aziraphale’s chest and closed his eyes again, nuzzling into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. With Aziraphale’s lips pressed to the crown of his head, he let himself be held until the water grew cold.

[dragon-kazansky]

One year special

Chapter two - Time to party

It makes sense to speak to the characters that started this blog. My first ever post was a Fantastic Beasts post. I make my way over to the small group.

Queenie noticed me coming over and broke away from the others to greet me halfway. She pulled me into a hug which I was happy to return. She led me back over to the group, who all turned to smile at me.

It's so cool seeing them all standing in front of me.

"It makes sense for me to speak to you all. You're the guys that started my blog." I smile at them.

Newt smiles back.

"We should thank you for making us your first post."

"You'll always have a special place on my blog, after all, my URL is a Fantastic Beasts reference. You'll always be there on my page." I chuckle. "The wizarding world is fun and there is plenty for me to explore in it."

"Though don't think we haven't noticed your sights have been on someone else." Tina pointed out, nodding behind her sister where a certain wizard was standing. Glancing up, I noticed him watching. He smirked.

"Well, sometimes the villains can be the most fun to write, but that doesn't mean I don't love you lot any less."

They all smile. They know I mean well, even if I have written a lot for Grindelwald. I glance back over to see him still looking at me. Grindelwald obviously wants me to go over and talk to him, and I probably should. I turn back to the group though, Grindelwald can wait a little longer.

"Will you be writing for us again? We know you did at Christmas, but we would like to see what else you can come up with." Queenie gives me her beautiful smile.

"Of course! I won't stop writing for you just because I haven't had many ideas. Just you wait, I'll have ideas for you again soon! I'll probably do more Christmas stories for you guys again this year too." There's plenty more characters for me to write for after all.

They all nod and smile.

I can still feel Grindelwald's eyes on me. I glance over and he smirks again. I sigh softly and excuse myself. They understand and let me go. I walk over to the dark wizard slowly.

"Ah, so you are going to talk to me." He sounds smug.

"I would have got to you eventually." I grin. "Patience is harmless."

He chuckles. It's a deep sound that seems to vibrate from his chest. Much like Dracula's chuckle.

"I don't really know what to say. I write for you quite a bit. I've done many headcanons for you." I smile.

"I'm honoured. You clearly have fun writing for me."

"You're intriguing." I smirk.

"I'm glad you think so."

"I wrote a whole story about you, so you know it's true." I chuckle softly. "Actually I've written a few stories about you."

"I hope to see another in the future."

"I can't promise anything, but we'll see." I suddenly find the courage to wink at him, which seems to please him.

The Doctor pops up beside me and smiles.

"They're going to start karaoke now."

"Alright."

I don't glance back at Grindelwald as I follow her across the room, but I can feel his gaze on me. I heard him chuckle as I left his side.

The karaoke machine was set up and I see Crowley go over to take the mic. The Doctor and I go to stand by Aziraphale who had been left by himself.

The angel turns to smile at me as I stop next to him.

"Oh hello!" He says, cheerfully.

"Hello Aziraphale." I smile. "I bet it's a Queen song."

Aziraphale chuckles and nods. We watch Crowley as the music begins to play. I chuckle when the intro comes on. Yeah, it's a Queen song.

"Are you going to sing, Aziraphale?"

"Oh no, I'm quite happy just watching." He smiles.

"Me too." The Doctor chimes in.

"Awe. I was hoping we could sing something." I pout at her. She looks a little caught off guard, but smiles.

"Well, I suppose one song will be OK. She grins brightly at me.

"I can't sing very well, but that shouldn't stop us from having a good time." I chuckle. There is no one here I wouldn't feel comfortable singing for, so it should be a good laugh if anything.

The Doctor nods.

Crowley gets really into the song and even poses at the end before grabbing a drink from the table next to him and strutting over. He comes to stand in front of me and smirks, pulling his glasses down just enough to peer over the brim. I can see his bright yellow eyes.

"Though we would have to wait all night to talk to you."

"Sorry I kept you waiting. There's a lot of people here." I smile up at him. He's tall. Everyone seems much taller than me.

"You're here now, let's have a drink." He puts his arm around my shoulders and leads me over to the table he had just come from. Aziraphale and the Doctor follow silently.

Crowley tops up his glass after downing what was left and then pours me a drink. Sparkling white wine in a pretty wine glass.

"The V.I.P gets a special drink." He winks at me as he hands it over. I smile and drink some of it.

"Thank you."

Crowley keeps an arm looped around my shoulders as he looks around the room. Thor was having a go on the karaoke machine, Loki trying to avoid him nearby. Some of the other guests are dancing despite Thor's singing.

Across the room I can see Dracula and Grindelwald talking. I wonder what they're talking about. I see Dracula glance up and grin at me when he sees me looking. I smile back and turn my attention elsewhere. 

I see the Master trying to make his way over, but suddenly the Doctor leaves Aziraphale's side and hurries over to him, pulling him in a different direction. I wonder what's going on there.

I feel Crowley tug me closer. I look up and see him looking at me with a grin.

"When the party gets going, we should dance." He wiggles his eyebrows.

I chuckle.

"Sure, but keep in mind that I've told Dracula I'd dance with him too. He might want to go first."

Crowley glances up at the vampire across the room.

"Suppose I don't have much choice if he comes over." He clicks his tongue.

For the rest of time the karaoke goes on, I stay with Crowley and Aziraphale. We have a wonderful conversation, Aziraphale telling me how excited he was to meet me and that he hopes an opportunity like this rises again.

I'm sure another opportunity to gather like this again will come again.

We watch as Wanda Maximoff, Queenie and Jacob, Jerome Valeska, and then Lee Scoresby take turns on the karaoke machine.

I catch the Doctor's eye and she nods at me. I notice the Master isn't with her as she meets me at the machine.

"You can pick the song." She says, looking at the machine in front of you.

"Um, OK." I look at all the songs on the machine and smile as I see one I like.

Believer - Imagine Dragons.

I listen to them a lot, so this is a song I've sung many times while listening to their stuff. I smile at the Doctor as we grab a mic each and wait for the song to come on.

I choose not to notice all the eyes on me. If they were all strangers, I wouldn't be doing this right now.

The song is certainly not a duet, but we both sing a verse each and it's a lot of fun. The Doctor is smiling which is more than I could ever ask for. I feel a sense of pride knowing I'm the reason she's smiling.

If only she smiled like this more.

When the song ends, everyone cheers. I take a bow and put the mic down.

The Doctor is grinning as she follows me away from the machine.

The karaoke is promptly turned off for now while music plays loudly. This gives everyone the excuse to dance.

I'm now standing in the centre of the room. I know what's coming as I see Crowley approach from one side, and Dracula from the other. I barely blink when Dracula comes up beside me. I turn to talk to him, asking if this was about the dance I promised him, but I'm tugged backwards gently. Crowley has just arrived, so it's not him.

I turn to see the Master smiling at me.

"First dance is mine."

I smile.

"Alright."

We leave Dracula and Crowley standing there as we go to join in on the fun. The music is upbeat, so we're just bopping along to the beat of the song. He's smiling and I once again feel proud to get the Time Lord smiling. I managed to get them both to be happy in less than an hour.

When the song comes to an end, the Doctor rushes to pull the Master away. Before I can intervene, I'm also dragged off. I turn to see Dracula.

"You owe me a dance."

"Yeah, but I didn't realise how urgent it was."

He has me face him and pulls me a little closer. I have to strain my neck to look up at him.

"This is going to be uncomfortable if I have to stand this close to you and look up." I tell him.

"Don't look up then." He grins.

I roll my eyes and take a step back. The next song has already started. I begin to bop along to the music.

Dracula eases his way into the dancing.

Unfortunately for him, my attention is being held elsewhere as I look to the side. I see Lee Scoresby making his way over. I slip from Dracula's hold to meet him halfway.

"Hey."

"Hey!" Lee grins.

Dracula isn't so pleased to see my attention is held elsewhere, but he leaves it and disappears into the crowd across the room.

"I was hoping we get to spend some time together. I have to thank you for that story you did for me." He smiles.

I smile back.

"It's my pleasure. I wish I could go on an epic adventure like everyone here, but writing about those adventures is the next best thing, and I get to share those stories with lots of amazing people."

He smiles brightly at me.

"That's an adventure by itself." He chuckles.

I smile fondly at that.

"I guess it is."

I dance with Lee for a while before deciding I want to sit down and eat something. He seemed cool with it and left to find Lyra, promising to bring her over later.

I make my way to the buffet table. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble with this and it looked amazing.

This was so far the best party I had ever been to.