Chapter Text
Aziraphale sipped the piping hot tea and set it down carefully on the fine porcelain saucer in front of him. He's sure he's never had pandan tea before, and wondered why he never got around trying any of the more exotic Asian varieties until lately. It was accented with some lemongrass and was wonderfully fragrant and sweet without tasting like the commercially 'flavored' teabags they sold now at the grocers. It didn't even need sugar.
"Thank you so much Louisa, the tea is wonderful."
The woman sitting before him smiled, "Oh, shhh nonsense. I can't even begin to thank you enough for saving my Catrina." Her dark hair was elegantly combed back, reserved curls fell to her shoulders. She was a spitting image of her daughter. "More ube cake?"
Aziraphale smiled and carefully reached over to the plate she offered, "Thank you. Though I wouldn't say that I did it all by myself." He expertly speared a portion on his fork and marveled at its purpleness. It was so very New York, so cosmopolitan in nature. The flavor was, again new, but something he quickly found he quite liked. Maybe 'new' wasn't so bad?
"Yes, of course. I haven't seen Mr. Crowley lately." She laughed, "Maybe I should have more sherry or wine out so he'd come by more often.
The angel laughed, "Maybe." Aziraphale took a bite and looked out the living room's wonderful view of New York's upper East side.
Its been about 6 weeks since 'the incident', the young girl - Catrina, daughter of Louisa Warren - was back in school, the angel's right arm was in a sling, and the world got back turning.
Aziraphale would be lying if he said that he hasn't had any nightmares about that night, but it was safe to say that he was feeling better. The few days he spent in the hospital was more for appearances - Heaven opted to let his body heal the 'normal' way once he was out of the red - and he had to admit that he quite liked the endless boxes of chocolates and sweets and stuffed animals that kept streaming in. Crowley huffed and scowled through the whole business as the private room they got for the angel became increasingly overstuffed by flowers and balloons and get-well-soon knick-knacks, but nonetheless stayed at his side. Crowley and his tailored black suit stood out like a sore thumb in the midst of the brightly colored things which the angel simply adored. Crowley scowled and Aziraphale pretended not to notice the sudden increase of in-hospital romances-gone-sour, and emergency buttons going off at random times.
Jonathan Cain Skims was sitting in a cell somewhere Aziraphale would really not want to know about.
"I recently acquired a John Calvin first edition, Christianae Religionis Institutio" Louisa said. It brought Aziraphale out of his reverie, "I'm quite sure you've heard about it." She smiled, and the angel found himself liking the woman even more than he already did.
The Warrens, it turned out, was an affluent family of two - Catrina and her mother Louisa. An old rich family that never had to worry about anything (until 8 weeks ago when Catarina disappeared on her way home from school), did charities and - to Aziraphale's pleasant surprise - had a great interest in acquiring rare books. He had spent his first visit to the Warrens browsing their impressive collection in the private library.
Catrina too was such an angel, and Aziraphale found anger simmering at the memory of the events that led them to meet. He liked visiting often since then, and the Warrens welcomed him. Louisa's gratitude could find no limit, and had loved the vast knowledge and common interests the young man brought with him. She could never have guessed how the pop star knew so much about old books.
Aziraphale smiled and finished his cake, "Oh my, thats just been auctioned off! Don't tell you were the one who bought it! That Calvin is -" His cellphone rang and it vibrated on the coffee table. He looked up apologetically, and Louisa waved it off.
"I'll go get some cookies. Cat should be home any moment now." She smiled and stood up to leave Aziraphale alone. She saw quickly enough that it was Mr. Crowley calling, and it took no genius to see that there was something between the two. Cute pair she thought, remembering how her late husband used to be as dogged in his pursuit of her as the Mr. Crowley was with Azira. They may not be a traditional pair to many, but never had Louisa Warren been traditional in her beliefs anyway.
Aziraphale smiled thankfully and picked up the cellphone with his good hand. He fiddled for a moment, remembered to slide his finger across the screen to accept the call, "Hello, Crowley?"
"Angel, you alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Stop worrying."
There sounded like a shrug on the other line, "I'm not worrying."
Aziraphale playfully rolled his eyes and got up to stand by the window. Crowley had insisted to give him a cellphone, and called more often than he would admit to himself. The demon checked in all the time regardless of the fact that Aziraphale practically didn't go anywhere without the demon's knowledge. The demon denied it as much as he called to check, but Aziraphale knew enough that what had happened shook up Crowley as much as it did him - more than the end of the world it seemed.
"Louisa's been wondering when you'd visit again." There was silence on the other line, he continued, "She says she'll break out some sherry if you come by."
"Just sherry? The woman's got to have something stronger in her bar."
"Crowley!"
There was a light chuckle, "Just kidding, angel. Hey, don't forget about those tickets."
Aziraphale nodded, "Yes, yes. Would six be alright? They're the best seats in the concert hall." He snapped his fingers and the tickets appeared in Crowley's jacket pocket.
Crowley felt the miracle instantaneously. He pulled out the gold foiled cards, "That should be enough. Got any merch? I'm feeling generous."
"The concert tour doesn't start up til seven weeks from now Crowley. You can have some of the old marketing materials instead." the angel snapped his fingers once more and a miscellany of Azira fan merchandise appeared in the car boot.
"They won't mind."
Aziraphale turned and leaned back against the window sill. The large arching casement framed him as if an angel illuminated in a stained glass window. He peered at his nails, only faintly interested. "So who are you giving them to?"
Crowley seemed to think this over carefully, "Uh... some fans of yours."
"Never thought you were such a philanthropist." There was silence, and Aziraphale knew instinctively that the demon was smirking. "Oh, I almost forgot, Gabriel's been looking for you."
"If he's looking to thank me again, tell him the breadbaskets with thank you cards ain't cutting it."
"Oh, no, no. He's been asking if he could give your number to uh..." Aziraphale tried to remember, "Ford? I think. Yes. Ford Modeling agency." the angel tried his best to stifle a laugh, "My CD cover caught their eye, they think you have some promise."
"Sure, whatever." the demon answered with a groan in his voice, "Anyway, I'll be over to pick you up at around 6 or so. Dinner at Le Bernardin?"
"Sounds lovely." The signal broke up a bit, there was static and Aziraphale looked puzzled, "Where are you Crowley?"
"Oh, don't - " Static. "-ry about it. I'll be r-" More static, "- there. See you."
Aziraphale looked at his phone and slowly thumbed across the screen to disconnect. Wonder where the demon was? He was mulling it over when Catrina came running in and hugged the angel's legs.
"Mr. Angel! I knew you'd be here. We baked muffins in school today, I made some just for you and your boyfriend." She beamed up at him and Aziraphale found his cheeks coloring. Louisa smiled inwardly as she watched her daughter drag their guest into the kitchen. Azira was truly heaven-sent, like a son she's always wanted but never had.
Crowley watched the call disconnect and dropped his phone into his coat pocket. These Americans loved their apple phones, and the symbolism of the logo did not escape Crowley's wry humor. The demon was liking the country more and more. He was beginning to love their penal system too; how simple little changes here and there with the paperwork and a healthy dose of persuasion could just about get you anywhere.
He stepped out of an elevator and into a dimply lit hall painted a sickly old green color lined by fluorescent lights. He liked the appalling decor - how appropriate he thought. He walked with a spring in his step, past several security locks and checks then was finally escorted by a burly guard to a lone room at the end. A couple of figured stood darkly by the door.
Crowley sauntered over as casually as he can. A duke and prince of hell awaited him. He eyed them warily, and caught Prince Beelzebub busy on zeir cellphone. Was the lord of the flies texting?! Crowley schooled his face into nonchalance but did not miss the small smile that played upon his fellow demon's face. Ze quickly slipped zis phone into a pocket when Crowley came within a few feet.
Crowley's brow nearly shot up when he realized Beelzebub had been using a phone only heaven issued to its angels... specifically archangels. He feigned intrigue to Dagon's presence instead. He had been expecting Hastur actually.
"Hail, Prince Beelzebub, Lord Dagon."
"Hello Crowley. It has been a while." Dagon hissed, ze eyed the other demon carefully. Ze remembered the trial in hell a decade before. One cannot be too careful with this particular individual. There had been talk that Crowley may have Ascended, or his relations with the angel had earned him celestial qualities. A Grey in their world of Black and White. One which the bureaucracy of Hell did not wish to tarry with anymore.
Beelzebub stepped forward. "Did you bring what our lords have requested?"
Crowley reached into his coat and produced the tickets. He handed them over and set a bag by the lord of the flies' feet.
Beelzebub glanced suspiciously at the bag, "What is this?"
"Bit of a thank you gift. From Aziraphale." Crowley said as nonchalantly as possible, "Told him you all would probably hate it anyway."
The lord of flies looked at the parcel and the bag's mouth yawned open obediently. Beelzebub seemed to consider the contents for a moment then the bag began to sink into the floor. It disappeared in another moment as the prince of hell pocketed the tickets.
"Well then," Crowley said, "Gentledemons, our business is concluded."
Dagon and Beelzebub nodded, and they began to sink into the concrete floor as if it were made of quicksand. Crowley watched them go, ineffably relieved.
He finally walked further down the hall and turned into an alcove with a single man standing sentinel. Crowley gave him a curt nod.
The guard unlocked the door, rapped twice and gestured to Crowley that he may enter. The demon smiled, entered and closed the door behind him. There was man with a shaved head sitting at the far end, a small Formica table separated them. He was facing the corner, hands cuffed together on his lap and he didn't bother to look up.
"About time you got here. My hearings in a couple of days."
"I'm afraid your lawyer can't make it today, Sskimsss."
The man practically jumped with a start when he recognized the voice and he bolted out of his chair, eyes wide. "Y - you!"
Crowley's grin could only be aptly described as demonic. "Hello Skimssss. Missed me?"
"No, no, no. You can't be here." Skims backed himself up to the corner watching with terrified eyes as Crowley made the table disappear with a snap of his fingers. "Help! Help! Warden!" he began calling desperately.
The demon advanced slowly. He pulled off his jacket and hung it neatly on a chair back. "Your warden's a little preoccupied right now." he said as he rolled up the sleeves of his ebony shirt.
Skims desperately clawed at the wall behind him, head turned to watch the approaching form, "Please, I swear to God! I've done nothing to you! What could you want from me?"
"Ah, but you have, you little prick. You dared to touch something that was mine." Crowley stretched a bit, and the bones in his neck gave a satisfying pop. "Nobody has been fool enough to do that until you came along." the demon carefully took off his sunglasses and dropped it into his coat pocket. "See, Aziraphale is mine, and you sodding piece of shit dared touch him."
Realization dawned on the cornered mortal and his eyes were wide, "Y-you?! You're the one that Azira spoke of."
Crowley's smile was predatory; "The one and only."
"How? What?" the man seemed to wrestle with the thought of an angel and a demon together. Then he remembered fitfully the events of that fateful night. "Oh God, no... Help me! Someone! Guard!" He began yelling with renewed strength as the demon approached closer and closer.
"No one can hear you right now, and nothing will be left of you when I'm done." Crowley said. "No one will come looking for you, no one will remember your name. And when your body expires, I have a couple of friends personally awaiting your arrival in Hell."
The demon finally closed the gap between them and the lights in the room went out save for one. "Then you will realize just how kind I have been. I think that's about fair, given what you've done to me. To my angel."
When Skims began screaming and pleading and tearing his throat out in agony, the guard smiled and thumbed up the volume of his new iPod; Azira's song "Beyond Redemption" blared in his ears.
Crowley's fingers played lazily through Aziraphale's blonde curls, as he pulled at the blankets. He closed his eyes for a moment and reveled in the warmth of the angel's naked body next to his. Crowley sighed in contentment. All was right now in his world, and never again would he be so careless. He shifted a bit slowly to lay his head down and bury his nose in Aziraphale's hair, careful not to move the resting angel.
"Mmph..."
"Aziraphale?" he said softly as he planted a soft kiss on the fair forehead.
"Thank you." came the muffled voice on his shoulder.
Crowley's raised an eyebrow, "For what?" He shifted the angel's right arm a bit when he saw that he was trying to move it to a more comfortable position.
"That," Aziraphale's raised his eyes to look up at his lover, "...and for putting up with me." he added quietly.
The demon smiled and thoughtfully adjusted the arm sling that kept the angel's healing shoulder in place. "Yup, I do put up a bit for you, you know." he said playfully.
There was a sigh that was more amused than annoyed. "A 'welcome' would have been nice, or an 'it's nothing'."
"I'll say that when you can start properly thanking me after you've healed up."
The tone cast no doubt to Crowley's meaning. Aziraphale blushed red, and damn this younger body for being so receptive. He resorted to tracing little circles on Crowley's chest and decided to change the subject promptly;
"Say, where did you go this afternoon? I couldn't reach your cellphone."
"Work. Tying up loose ends, taking the souls of the damned." Came the quick reply, "The usual."
Aziraphale had the nagging feeling that Crowley had been up to something but didn't push it. He was feeling very sleepy, and reminded himself that he was officially on sick leave and that he was entitled to some non-thwarting for the next few weeks. "You could tell me all about it in the morning, then."
"Mmmhmmm." Crowley watched the angelic eyes slowly drift close and he could not help but think once again how beautiful Aziraphale was. "Angel?"
"Mmm?"
Crowley opened his mouth, but thought better of it and shook his head, "Oh, nothing. I'll tell you tomorrow." He watched Aziraphale's peaceful face as he pulled the covers over both of them. He can tell the angel tomorrow that his Bentley was on its way to New York, and so were the angel's beloved furniture from the old bookshop - his battered armchair, his workbench and crumbling cabinetry, the old stove, everything. Crowley thought it would be a nice surprise, easing the stress from Aziraphale's lifetime of work ahead. The bookshop in Soho will be waiting for its owner's return, Crowley had seen to that years ago, as well as his flat in Mayfair. It would all be waiting for them at the end of Azira's career, when they can come home to jolly old London.
Crowley closed his eyes and let sleep takeover; heaven can truly be anywhere you make it to be, and right now, he was finally, finally in his.
- fin -