Work Text:
That Simple Kind of Love (You Can’t Deny)
The Pulsifers were known around the neighborhood for their yearly summer BBQs. The first one had actually been a welcome party for Anathema five years before when she had moved in with the strange family. Newt especially was convinced the girl from Malibu would enjoy the American custom and went a little overboard on preparing “burgers and franks” for the occasion. It had been a bit of a shock when Anathema showed up and admitted that she was vegetarian, subsequently spending most of the day snacking on fruit salad and crisps.
Nonetheless, the whole neighborhood had rather enjoyed the occasion and the welcome BBQ became a tradition, even after Anathema had permanently changed her residence to stay with the family when she was fifteen.
The Crowley’s never attended. It was well known that the family hated the outdoors, direct sunlight, and all forms of social interaction. Besides, the Fell’s were always sure to make an appearance and an event that included both families would not be pleasant for anyone.
However, by the time the second BBQ had rolled around, Anthony J. Crowley was told in no uncertain terms that if he didn’t show his scrawny arse, Anathema would personally hunt him down and drag him there by the collar of his stupid leather jacket, and even at thirteen, a threat from Anathema Device was not to be taken lightly.
So once a year, Crowley and Aziraphale got to go to the same social event without having to come up with some dumb excuse. Not that they got to really do anything. The only people who knew about their relationship were Anathema, (after all, she was the one that got the two to stop dancing around the bush and just date already), and Newt, who was really only told so that Anathema would have someone to gossip with.
It was a little after eleven when Newt heard a knock from the front door. He opened it to find Aziraphale balancing a dish of scones in one arm and a bag of ice in the other. “Oh, I can take that,” said Newt, reaching out to help Aziraphale with the ice.
“Thank you, it’s rather a bit heavier than I remembered it being,” the shorter responded with a small huff.
Newt took a look at the writing on the cold plastic. “That’s because you got a bigger bag than usual. All the better, we usually run out.”
“Oh good. Anathema always makes Crowley and I go get more half way through the day.”
“Right, wonder why she would do that.”
The two walked through the small house to the back yard where Anathema was standing next to an overturned table and Crowley was already putting up streamers, standing precariously on the top of the porch railing.
“How’s this look, Mrs. Pulsifer?”
“That looks lovely, Anthony dear. Now come down from there.”
“Newt, you come over here and finish helping me with this table.” Anathema kicked at the table leg pointing up towards the clear sky. “Oh, hi Azi. You get the ice?”
At the mention of the name, Crowley hopped down from the railing and looked toward the house to see Aziraphale in khakis and a light blue short-sleeved button up, his favorite tartan bow tie carefully tied around his collar. He was still carrying the dish of scones.
“Yes, dear, I got the ice,” he answered before looking to where Crowley was quickly readjusting his black Queen tank top and tightening his leather jacket around his narrow hips. Once satisfied that he didn’t look too rumpled, the red-head flashed his best smirk.
“Hey there, angel.”
“Hello, Crowley.” His response was a little too polite, which Crowley expected. It would be like this all day.
Mrs. Pulsifer shook her head in that knowing way that adults have. She may not have known the true nature of their relationship but she knew that there was no true animosity in it. The four teenagers had spent far too much time together in her house for her to think they were all anything but affectionate towards each other. She rather thought for a while that Crowley and Anathema had a thing for each other, but as they all got a bit older, she began to suspect that the boy didn’t swing that way.
…
It was a little after one when people started showing up. As always, the group had finished setting up maybe three minutes before Madame Tracy knocked on the door, a pouting Mr. Shadwell standing just behind her.
After that, people from the neighborhood continued to trickle into the yard, some bringing dishes to share, others lugging a case of beer. The Them each arrived with their parents and gave their customary hellos, then disappeared only to reappear an hour later looking the worse for wear but suspiciously triumphant. Mr. Gaiman wandered in at one point, all smiles and excited chit chat.
The BBQ was in full swing by the time the Fell’s descended from the house. Crowley saw them first and felt his smile falter. He caught Aziraphale’s eyes and made the slightest movement with his head. Aziraphale took the prompt and turned to look, letting out a small sigh as he saw his parents. He turned back to meet his boyfriend’s eyes and they shared a series of looks that, if translated into words, may have sounded something like this:
“Are you gonna be ok?”
“I will be fine, dear. They’re just my parents.”
“Yes, but, they’re also massive prats.”
“Crowley…”
“Alright, alright. But if you need me, let me know, ok?”
“What would you do, dear? Sock them?”
“I might… Ok, no, but I’ll be there. Just, promise you’ll let me know?”
“… yes, alright.”
Anathema watched this interaction with the slightest touch of amazement. Of course she had seen them do this plenty of times before and she knew perfectly well why they had become so good at it, but that didn’t make the process and less fascinating. With a quick reassuring smile and the subtlest of hand squeezes, Aziraphale crossed the grass to stand with his family. Anathema didn’t miss the look of worry still very present on Crowley’s face.
“He’ll be ok.”
Crowley gave a tiny nod, but otherwise didn’t give any indication that he heard his friend.
Gabriel and Michael briefly greeted their son before continuing their conversation. Aziraphale had no real reason to be there seeing as he wouldn’t be able to get a word in edgewise even if he tried, but he also knew that if he tried to leave, he would get an earful for it. So he stood there quietly, sipping on his grape juice and half listening to his parents tell a politely listening Mrs. Pulsifer about what was going on in the firm that month. Behind him, three tall teenagers were discreetly migrating closer to the Fell’s. They wanted to be able to intervene if need be.
But Aziraphale really was fine. Afterall, he had spent his entire life learning how to be a proper shadow. His presence was background, not really contributing to the situation, but he knew his absence would be noticed.
After what must have been at least thirty minutes of sipping his drink and trying half-heartedly to listen, Aziraphale felt his mind drift to earlier in the week when he and Crowley had snuck out to get ice cream. He hadn’t noticed that he was smiling.
“What are you smirking about over there?” Gabriel’s voice snapped Aziraphale out of his reverie. He had been in such a daze that he couldn’t think of a good response.
Mrs. Pulsifer must have caught the flash of fear in his eyes. “Must be thinking about school. I heard you got into Oxford! Congratulations!”
Aziraphale was grateful for the tangent. “Yes! Thank you, I’m very excited.”
“What are you planning on studying?”
“He’ll be going into law, of course,” answered Gabriel, giving his son a hard pat on his shoulder that Aziraphale swore made his heels sink an inch onto the grass.
“Then he’ll join us at the firm,” Michael added with a blinding smile.
Aziraphale stood there, held fast by his father’s tight grip, looking down at the toes of his tan boots. There was a lump in his throat that he couldn’t seem to swallow past. He wished he hadn’t finished his juice already. Then, from behind him, he felt fingertips brush his own. His conversation with Crowley the other night echoed in his head.
I don’t want to keep hiding what I love in life.
So don’t.
Aziraphale looked up at Mrs. Pulsifer to see that her eyes were still on him, not the two who had spoken. She was waiting for him to answer. “Actually, I was thinking of going into English Studies.”
A sudden chill filled the air. The hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder tightened painfully and he fought the urge to whimper. Mrs. Pulsifer tried in vain to dispel some of the Arctic blast with a small, “Oh, that sounds interesting.”
Gabriel and Michael both turned to look at the cowering blond next to them, sinister smiles plastered on their faces. “Why on Earth would you want to study English, Aziraphale?” Gabriel tried to make his voice sound curious but the murderous edge underneath his words was clear as day.
Aziraphale swallowed.
“Well, frankly, I have no interest in law whatsoever. Never have. But I’ve always loved literature and I find the subject rather fascinating, and there’s a tragically small amount of time and effort spent on the field. So I would like to help amend that.”
Their smiles were terrifying.
Michael spoke this time. “Don’t be ridiculous, Aziraphale. You have electives if you want to read your silly books. Afterall, it’s not bad to have a hobby, but this is your future we’re talking about.”
“You wouldn’t want a life of constant failure, would you?”
Aziraphale took a deep breath, then removed his father’s hand from his shoulder with some effort. “If I had to spend my life in a career that I despised, surrounded by people who won’t take me seriously, I would consider that to be constant failure.”
Directly behind him, Newt and Anathema looked triumphant and Crowley positively glowed with pride. He couldn’t help finding his angel’s hand and giving it a small squeeze.
A small squeeze that caused Aziraphale’s cheeks to tint pink.
A pink that Gabriel didn’t miss.
A pink that drew the man’s attention to the red-head standing directly behind his son.
A lightbulb clicked on.
“I know what it is, dear.” Gabriel turned to his wife. “He’s been hanging out with the Crowley boy. He comes from a whole household of failures, you know.”
Both boys went the color of their hair.
“I mean, three adult sons still living at home with a mother who is such a failure that she had to turn to crime in order to make a dime. Because making an honest living was just too high a task. All that woman does is bring down property values and mildly inconvenience the good citizens of this city and when she finally rots away, all the better for the rest of us. And hopefully,” he turned meaningfully to face Aziraphale, his smile curling into something almost grotesque, “her children won’t be far behind. Afterall, like mother like son.”
Had the situation been any different, Crowley would have been incensed by Gabriel’s words. Normally he would have resented the mere connection of him to his family, but the fact that he degraded his household, refused to call Beezlebub anything but a woman, and expressed his outright desire to see them all dead while Crowely was standing right there was almost more than he could take. But right then, all he could think about was Aziraphale. If Crowley showed any sign of how Gabriel’s words affected him, the one who would be hurt the most was his angel.
But standing up to his parents had lit something in Aziraphale’s blue eyes. He straightened his spine and turned to fully face Mr. and Mrs. Fell. “But that’s not always true, is it? Because I’m your son, but I’m, rather proudly, nothing like you at all.” There was a moment of stunned silence and Aziraphale took advantage of it to grab Crowley’s hand and give a soft tug, indicating he should come stand at his boyfriend’s side. Crowley obliged without really thinking about what he was doing.
“Uh, Aziraphale…”
Aziraphale, looked up at Crowley, eyes shining. “You were right.” He turned back. “Whatever you may think of his family, you have no right to judge Anthony. He is kind, and thoughtful, and only occasionally stupid, and he doesn’t see the world in black and white, he sees it in color, and no matter how he may act, he cares about me more than the two of you ever did, and, and,” Aziraphale was slightly breathless. Next to him, he could tell Crowley was staring, eyes big, mouth slightly agape and cheeks blazing. From Crowley’s other side, Aziraphale heard the same words Anathema had whispered to him three years ago when this whole mess had really started:
“Just say it.”
“And I love him.” The angel felt his cheeks burn but his smile was triumphant. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Think you might be pushing it a bit there, angel,” Crowley hissed in his ear, but Aziraphale just gave a small shake of his head. The look on his parent’s faces told him he said exactly what he needed to. Gabriel was stony-faced with fury in his eyes. Michael looked disgusted.
“This kind of love isn’t right,” she said, nose scrunched up. “It’s wrong. It’s sinful .”
“It’s disgusting.”
But Aziraphale had had enough. He shook his head. “No, this ,” he gestured between himself and his parents, “is wrong. Love based off of fear and control. Love that was never earned. This ,” he lifted the hand still holding Crowley’s, “is simple. And it’s right . And you can’t deny it or object it. This isn’t court, it’s life, and I don’t want you in mine anymore.”
…
Gabriel and Michael had both looked like they wanted to continue the argument, but before they could get another word out, they were chased out by The Them, (“Of course we knew you two were together. You’ve been sneaking through our backyards for three years now, we’re not stupid.”) and, hilariously, Madame Tracy, who had somehow obtained a broom and was swinging it over her head. At their departure, everyone at the BBQ cheered, drawing Aziraphale’s attention to the fact that there had been a very large audience to this very dramatic event in his life.
Mrs. Pulsifer offered to let Aziraphale stay there until he left for school, an offer he graciously accepted. He and Crowley spent the rest of the day in a kind of high. For the first time in their lives, they were aloud to be a couple around other people, and the possibilities of the future Aziraphale had just created for himself gave them both something to smile about for quite a while.
It wasn’t until that night, after everyone had left and the yard had been picked up, that the anxiety started to hit Aziraphale. He was sitting in the guest room, which was really just the office, and he was hit by the reality of what he had done. He had just cut himself off. He had nothing. He had no family, no money, for God’s sake, he was homeless. From his spot on the floor, Crowley immediately recognized the panic that was rising in Aziraphale’s eyes.
“Angel…”
“Oh God, what have I done?”
“Angel, breath.”
“I’m such an idiot. I’ve doomed myself. What was I thinking? I can’t do this. I’ve never even had a job, how am I supposed to support myself through school? Oh, what am I going to tell the school? Will they ask questions? What do I tell them? How do I switch my major? Can I even do that? I mean, they’re right, English isn’t exactly the most practical career path. I’m going to end up on the streets. They’ll be right and I’ll never get anywhere and I’ve cut off all ties and…”
It was like watching a runaway train. Crowley stood up and sat next to the babbling boy on the cot, continuing to try to slow him down, but the train ran right over the “Angel. Angel . AZIRAPHALE .” He had only been like this a couple times before and it was heartbreaking to watch. Crowley was helpless as tears started to spill over onto his angel’s cheeks and his voice got closer and closer to breaking.
“Oh Crowley, I dragged you into this, what if you get hurt because of me?” At that, Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s face and turned it. The next “What if-?” was interrupted by Crowley’s lips. He kept kissing his boyfriend until he could feel his lips stop talking, until he felt the soft body relax and lean into his angular one, until the wetness on both their faces started to dry. Aziraphale’s breathing slowed and became more even. He fell into the familiar rhythm and found comfort and stability in it. Crowley finally broke away, placed a kiss on platinum curls, and looked into the blue eyes that he loved so much. His angel’s tears had made them overbright. He used his long thumbs to wipe the tears from round cheeks, wanting nothing more than to hold onto this face for the rest of eternity.
“You have been waiting your whole life to be able to do this. Don’t start regretting it now.”
“It’s just,” Aziraphale sniffed loudly, “I don’t know where I’m going anymore. There’s no path.”
Crowley broke out into a wide grin. “Exactly.” He kissed Aziraphale again. “Isn’t it marvelous?”
With a small chuckle and another sniff, Aziraphale nodded and leaned back in to find that place where he felt at home. That’s what they both were: home. And that’s where they stayed, that is, until Aziraphale put his hand in something cold and wet. “What the-” He looked down to see a small pool of red staining the blanket. With a squeal, he leapt from the cot so as to keep the liquid from staining his trousers.
“Ah, no, Angel. You spilled the wine.” Aziraphale looked back at the stain to see his red plastic cup had indeed caused the offending puddle. He looked back at Crowley with wide eyes.
“ WINE?”
“Yes, wine. What did you think you were drinking?”
“… grape juice.” It came out as barely a squeak. Crowley fell back on the bed, howling with laughter. “Well what was I supposed to think? I hardly supposed someone would bring a bottle of wine to a BBQ.” No wonder he had been so brazen earlier. He had nearly three cups of the stuff.
“It was mine, angel. It’s a merlot which, by the way, tastes nothing like grape juice.” He was still cackling, both at the misunderstanding and at Aziraphale’s pout.
“Did I get any on me?” Crowley watched the blond turn, taking much longer to thoroughly observe his arse than was strictly necessary.
“You’re clean, angel. For now.” The red-head winked, making Aziraphale roll his eyes.
“Get up, I need to get this washed before it’s stained beyond repair.”
“Don wanna,” Crowley pouted, laying himself back out across the cot, lanky limbs going everywhere. Aziraphale walked calmly over and poked Crowley carefully in the ribs, causing the latter to squeal, curl up in a ball, and roll to the floor. “That’s cheating, angel!” he whined as Aziraphale quickly stripped the cot and carried the stained bedding out the door. “No tickling aloud!”
“Why don’t you grab us some more wine?” he called back. “I have a feeling we may be up late tonight, what with moving me in and… stuff.”
Crowley chuckled and pulled himself up off the floor to go grab him and his (no longer secret) boyfriend a couple more glasses of merlot.