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“Absolutely magnificent” Aziraphale’s face glowed as he gazed lovingly at the glistening, glinting waves rolling steadily to shore. He spread his arms to embrace the wide horizon. “Isn’t it just the most” he inhaled deeply, searching for the right word… “alive thing in this world?”
Crowley made a non-committal sound, “Eh, it’s alright”.
The angel was perched on top of a piece of driftwood, his jacket folded carefully beside him. And while his bowtie remained as straight as his spine, he had rolled up his shirt sleeves, and his feet, decorously crossed at the ankles, were quite scandalously bare and rather hairier than one might expect.
The demon lounged against the same piece of driftwood, molding his lanky frame in amongst the twisted structure of what had once been roots. His arms were folded, sunglasses and frown firmly in place as he gazed unreadably out at the ocean. But as he glanced out of the corner of his hidden eyes, taking in the angel’s joy, and how oblivious he was of what the wind was doing to his maddeningly curly hair, the tiniest quirk appeared at the corner of his lips. “I suppose it has it’s… own kind of charm”.
Crowley, in fact, loved the ocean. And even more than that, loved the rare occasion when Aziraphale initiated a meeting instead of him having to reel the angel in with offers of food and drink. Although watching the angel eat was one of Crowley favorite things in this world or any other.
But he wasn’t in the mood to admit that today. Let alone enjoy an unexpected day on a secluded beach with his angelic counterpart.
“Charm” Aziraphale spluttered, pulling Crowley quickly back from his wandering thoughts, “this isn’t charm… this is… magnificent” he repeated with a sigh, uncrossing his ankles to spread his toes into the sand. “You really should try it” he indicated Crowley’s booted feet with a flourish. “The sand is deliciously warm”.
Crowley looked down at the snakeskin toes of his boots, then back out at the distant horizon and gave a despondent shrug, “Not really my thing Angel”
“Really?” Aziraphale’s exuberance paled, his shoulders drooping slightly, “I was so sure you’d like this…”
Crowley straightened up, giving it his best effort, “Oh yeah, no this is fine Angel. Good to have a new meeting spot”
“Not really what I had in mind” Aziraphale sniffed, “you’ve seemed so tense lately. I thought maybe, a visit to the beach might help you… I don’t know… relax a bit”
Crowley restlessly rearranged his shoulders against the driftwood. “I’m always relaxed. King of relaxation. That’s me”
Aziraphale shot him his “please girl I know you better than that” look and Crowley tilted his head back with a “You think you’re so clever” retort look before giving up with a sigh, and, uncoiling himself from the tangle of roots, he begin pacing sinuously around Aziraphale’s driftwood throne. Damn but the Angel really was that clever and they both knew it.
“Okay, alright, maybe I am a little… twitchy”
“Obviously” Aziraphale noted, pursing his lips like a school mistress trying not to be pleased with herself and inwardly Crowley groaned, “…and?”
Crowley paused in his pacing, shoving his hands into his pockets, and, feeling himself cornered, turned the nonchalance on full force. “And what?” This was not going at all according to plan.
When Aziraphale had invited him on a mystery outing today, he’d almost said no. But then thought better of it. What else was he going to do all day? Slouch around his flat? Wander the crowded London streets? There was only so many times a day he could threaten the plants without them just giving up and expiring like the drama queens they were. At least if he was out with Aziraphale, he wasn’t alone, moping, thinking… feeling.
Speaking of feeling, he could feel Aziraphale’s gaze on him, and realized as soon as he turned to meet it that it had been a mistake. The earnestness of the concern and compassion in the angel’s eyes was enough to melt the walls of the strongest demon.
He turned abruptly away, “I’m sorry Angel, this was a bad idea” he tried to stalk quickly toward the treeline but the sand kept shifting out from under his boots, and the distress in Aziraphale’s voice stopped him before he’d made it a couple steps, “Wait Crowley… don’t go”.
Despite himself, Crowley half turned.
“I made sandwiches” the combination of hurt and hope in Aziraphale’s eyes undid the rest of the demon’s resolve, and he slouched back toward the angel.
“I’m sorry Angel” he muttered, “I’m just not… in the mood to relax today”
“Just today?” Aziraphale asked innocently and Crowley almost couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from quirking up.
“Crowley” Aziraphale stared intently into the sunglasses, “What’s wrong?”
Crowley stared the angel down but something in Aziraphale’s expression gave him pause.
“You really want to know?” he heard himself ask, then panicked as he realized he’d asked it out loud.
“Yes” Aziraphale’s eyes were wide with sincerity and Crowley felt a dangerously thick layer of his protective shield melt away.
“Okay fine” Crowley turned to look out at Aziraphale’s “magnificent” breakers and mumbled something quickly.
“I didn’t quite catch that” Aziraphale murmured encouragingly, leaning forward.
Crowley suddenly realized how the angel must have felt when he’d asked what happened to the flaming sword, way back in the beginning, on the wall.
“It’s my birthday” he repeated loudly, in a rush.
Aziraphale’s confusion was palpable, but his voice was nonetheless also full of encouragement, “Your birthday?”
Well, Crowley had started now, he might as well keep going. If he didn’t, the angel would think he was a perfect loon, “If you must know, a while ago” he waved his hand to indicate decades or centuries, “I saw how… uh… happy it made the humans to celebrate the day they were born. So I thought I’d give it a try. I mean why should the humans have all the fun am I right? So I just picked a day and celebrated. Should just give it up really. Can’t seem to get it to work right.”
He felt the angels hand coming to rest lightly on his shoulder and was surprised how comforting that small patch of warmth was as the chilly ocean air wrapped itself around them. He glanced back at the angel, “Pretty silly idea huh”
“No” Aziraphale said with his usual surety, “Not a silly idea at all. But I think you might be going about it wrong”
“What do you mean doing it wrong?” Crowley pulled away so he could face the angel, “How hard could it be? Happy birthday to me… see… doesn’t work”
“No” Aziraphale said patiently, returning to their driftwood and bending over the ridiculously large wicker basket he’d insisted Crowley haul all the way through the dunes to this specific spot.
“Happy birthday to you” Aziraphale straightened up, holding a hand out to Crowley in which he held a beautifully wrapped box topped with a meticulous red bow.
Crowley stared, the blood draining from his face, “What?”
“Happy birthday” Aziraphale repeated, a beaming smile breaking across his face at Crowley’s inability to comprehend what was happening.
“You already knew?” Crowley fought the inclination to be upset that the angel had made him explain if he already knew, “How did you…? What is… ?” Crowley’s voice trailed off as his chest, for some inexplicable reason, began to ache.
“It’s a present silly. For you. A birthday present.” The angle faltered, looking suddenly self-consciously at the box in his hand, “That’s, that’s how the humans do it after all. As to the how…” he sniffed, regaining some attitude, “you talk a lot when you’re drunk. I’m surprised you don’t remember… Anyway…” He indicated the beach, box in his hand, and the basket in the sand, “Happy birthday”.
The ache in Crowley’s chest had traveled up into his throat, and for a stunned moment, he thought he might just cry. He raised his gaze to Aziraphale’s and saw the hope and also the uncertainty there. And the angel’s uncertainty of how his gift would be received nearly undid the demon.
He felt a grin cross his face as he pulled his sunglasses off, and was rewarded with a dazzling angel smile in return.
“Just when I think I have you figured out” he looked at the angel, the picnic, the gift, and at the ocean, sand, sun, as if seeing it for the first time. “Thankyou Angel” he said quietly and very sincerely.
Aziraphale wiggled his shoulders, his smile altogether too smug, “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.”
By the time the sandwiches had been eaten, and the wine drunk, the demon lounged barefoot in the sand, his back against the driftwood, his boots, socks, vest, and sunglasses in a jumbled pile nearby, and his face turned up to catch the last rays of the setting sun. He held his gift on his lap as Aziraphale nibbled delicately on one last bakewell tart. Crowley, filled with something dangerously close to contentment, watched him eat. Once in 1979, Crowley had watched a “food connoisseur” relish a plate of exquisite crab cakes almost one tenth as completely as Aziraphale appreciated every single bite of food he ate. Crowley wondered from time to time if the satisfaction the angel experienced when eating could be similar in some way to how Crowley felt behind the wheel of the Bentley. Or the way he imagined running his fingers through the angel’s hair would feel.
Said angel dabbed his mouth with his napkin and shifted on the picnic blanket he’d laid over the sand to keep his cream pants clean.
“Well, are you going to open it then?” Aziraphale asked, gathering up the leftovers from their picnic, and, carefully returning them to the basket.
“Open what?” Crowley asked drowsily.
“Your present” Aziraphale pointed at the box in his lap.
Crowley stared at the intricate red bow, then up at Aziraphale “There’s something inside?” he asked.
“Yes” the angel paused in his packing to look over at Crowley, “that’s just the wrapping”.
“Of course!” the demon nodded sagely, adding a little laugh to show he knew that, and hoped the lie was convincing. “Silly joke. Don’t mind me Angel”. He had in fact thought the box was his present, and he had been very happy to have a box that Aziraphale had taken the time to wrap so elegantly. So he took great care in disentangling the ribbon from it, and finding the tabs of tape so he could disengage them without ripping the paper. When the box was free of the wrapping, he lifted the top off, and found, coiled in a nest of tissue paper, something made of very fine gray yarn. With a questioning look at Aziraphale’s expectant face, he pulled it free of the box.
“I crocheted it” Aziraphale announced. It was a scarf, a very thin scarf with metal findings at the ends. Sort of a tie. “Do you like it?”
Did he like it? Crowley held the thing in his hands, feeling the soft suppleness of it, the minute stitches, feeling the time and care the angel had put into it. He was pretty sure it was the only thing anybody had ever given him. It was definitely the only thing anybody had ever made for him. And by far the nicest thing anybody had ever done for him. Unable to answer as he held in a sudden, overwhelming rush of emotion, he slipped it around his neck, tying a loose knot so that it hung down his chest, brushing against bare skin where his shirt hung open. And it was as if the gift radiated the same warmth that Aziraphale’s hand on his shoulder had done. Because warmth radiated across his chest, filling his heart, and a rare, mischievous, full toothed grin spread unchecked over his face as he pulled himself up to standing, striking a ridiculous pose to model his new favorite accessory. “What do you think Angel? Is it me?”
Aziraphale flushed, or maybe it was just the sunset reflecting off his fair skin, “It looks good” he smiled timidly.
“Not just good.” Crowley took a flying leap up onto the driftwood, showering the angel with sand. But even as Aziraphale protested, standing to shake his clothes and hair out, his gaze was drawn to Crowley who, bare feet planted on the log, spread his arms out wide, his yellow eyes taking in the horizon, the beach, the surf, the sunset blazing across the sky, and finally Aziraphale himself.
“It’s magnificent” Crowley whispered in the hiss of the gentlest serpent Aziraphale had ever known. “Thankyou Angel”.
Aziraphale found himself blushing with pleasure, and quickly lowered his gaze to hide his sudden rush of feelings for the demon, and the deep fear that came with them.
“No” he told himself silently and very firmly. It could never be. “I am an angel, he is a demon. We have nothing in common”. The problem was, Aziraphale knew it was a lie. And also knew that someday he was going to have to face that. For now he swallowed hard, and contented himself with the fact that the demon liked his present, and was smiling for a change.
“You’re very welcome” he answered decorously, brushing the last of the sand from his slacks before he trusted himself to look up at the demon.
In the gathering dusk, it seemed to Aziraphale that he could almost see Crowley’s strong black wings stretching out behind him against the darkening sky. And for a split second, he allowed himself to know the truth. The demon was, inside and out, the most beautiful being he had or would ever know.
Little did he know that as Crowley gazed down at him with the sun setting behind him, bringing back memories of soft white wings that had shielded a newly arrived serpent from the first rainfall, the demon was thinking the exact same thing.