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It was a nice day. All the days after Armageddon had been nice. Crowley and Aziraphale were sat on their deck, out the back of their little cottage, overlooking the South Downs. They had watched the sunrise in their pyjamas and sat peacefully for a few hours. Aziraphale had his hot cocoa, as usual.
He turned to Crowley suddenly, when the sun stopped glaring at him over the tree,
“Do you remember the 60’s, Crowley?”
“Painfully well, Angel.” Crowley chuckled.
Aziraphale sighed, wistfully.
“Why?”
“Well I was just thinking about something we could do today and I remembered our conversation in your car and I believe that I'm right in saying I promised you a picnic.”
“A picnic?”
“Yes, dear. That’s what I said.”
“Oh.” Crowley seemed to be considering it for a few seconds and then jumped up and headed back inside the house.
Aziraphale slumped back into the chair. Well, he thought, I expected as much. About 15 minutes later, Aziraphale was still sipping his hot cocoa with a disappointed frown.
“Aziraphale.” Crowley slid open the door and stuck his head out.
“Yes, dear?” He turned slightly.
“Why aren’t you getting up? I thought you wanted to go on a picnic but you aren’t getting ready.” He grinned.
“You walked away, I wasn’t sure what to do and anyway, my dear boy, it’s hardly time to go for a picnic this second.”
“I’ve got crêpes, mon amour.” He stepped out of the door with a wicker basket in his hand. He gestured with it and then blushed slightly when he realised what he’d said.
“Well okay then, I suppose. You always know how to tempt me.”
Aziraphale stood up quickly and smiled at Crowley before squeezing past him through the door.
As Aziraphale had expected, which was usually what turned out to be true, Devil’s Dyke was practically empty. The national trust site was slowly filling with families but it was only eleven o’clock (it took a bit longer to walk there than Crowley remembered: he didn’t want to drive there because as much as he loved his car, he loved holding Aziraphale’s hand more).
Aziraphale found a spot he was happy with and Crowley pulled a tartan rug out of the basket and lay it down for him.
“Thank you, dear.”
Crowley raised his eyebrows but held back his tongue. They were on their own side now. They could say whatever they wanted.
“S’alright.” He mumbled.
Aziraphale gently lowered himself and Crowley fell down next to him.
“What a lovely day, don’t you think?” Aziraphale beamed.
“Been the same I thought.” He said, “Adam must be enjoying his summer.”
“You think this is all Adam? Over all of England?” Aziraphale turned his head to Crowley, who had taken to basking in the sun, laid back with his eyes shut.
“Mm,” He hummed, “Powerful kid.”
“I suppose so. Yes, it probably is him. I hope they haven’t bothered him, mind you.”
“Nah. Won’t have. Both sides are too afraid of him. An eleven year old kid managed to overrule the ‘Divine Plan’.” He blinked open an eye and stared at Aziraphale who was sat up straight like he was sat in a chair. The sun beamed down and Crowley couldn’t see his face, only an outline of his figure.
Crowley quickly sat up and grabbed the basket.
“What would you like to start with?” He smirked.
“Well you did promise me crêpes.” Aziraphale’s face lit up.
“Crêpes it is.” He reached in and (by some kind of miracle) his hands found the crêpes.
In 1793, Crowley had gone to lunch with Aziraphale. They’d had a great time, but like all their other spontaneous meetings, when Crowley was about to suggest something else, Aziraphale had quickly become aware of their predicament and made an excuse to leave. After he’d rushed off, Crowley waited behind and tempted the chef into teaching him the recipe. He didn’t know why at the time and if Aziraphale had found out then that he was doing something nice for him, Crowley probably would’ve slept for a hundred years in shame.
However, now he’d had a couple hundred years to perfect his recipe, he was almost excited to make Aziraphale happy.
“Will you show me anything in the basket?” Aziraphale impatiently asked.
“Nope.” He quickly flourished the crepes in front of Aziraphale’s face.
His eyes widened, “Crowley. They look marvellous.” He beamed.
“Wait till you taste them.”
He quickly grabbed the plate Crowley was offering him and gently indulged.
“Mmm.” He delighted, “They’re absolutely scrumptious. Just like the ones we-”
“-had in Paris. Yeah.” Crowley smiled.
“Well, they are delicious. I can hardly believe you made them.” He grinned.
“A little demonic intervention might have been necessary, but only because I wanted them to be perfect.” He glanced down, away from Aziraphale’s bright blue eyes.
“I’m very grateful anyway.” Aziraphale reached across the rug and held Crowley’s hand in his own.
Crowley just sat staring at their hands all the time Aziraphale was marvelling over his crepe. Crowley smiled to himself and ran his thumb over Aziraphale’s hand. Finally, he sighed, they were at peace.
“I have more, if you’re interested.”
“You know I’d never say no to food, Crowley.”
Crowley reluctantly let go of Aziraphale’s hand so he could reach into the basket. A little girl ran past giggling, she stopped suddenly in front of Crowley. He quickly stopped what he was doing.
“Wow. I really like your hair.” She beamed.
“Jodie, darling!” Her family called her back and she glanced at them both, smiled and galloped away.
“Oh Crowley...” Aziraphale spoke as Crowley shrunk into a ball. He reached out and grabbed his hand again, “You’ve always had such a soft spot for children. I could always tell.”
“I’m fine.”
Aziraphale leaned slightly back and brought Crowley closer to him.
“Don’t worry about it, dear boy.” Aziraphale smiled.
Crowley accepted the embrace and laid his head in Aziraphale’s lap. He smiled up at him, grabbed his hand and began to stroke his fingers again.
Aziraphale gazed at Crowley before reaching down to his face and removing his glasses. He placed them on the rug next to him and then brought his hand back to touch Crowley’s cheek. He gently fiddled with his hair and smiled. Crowley just stared in awe and then weakly smiled back.
Aziraphale glanced up, “Oh, you got something out of the basket?” Some strawberries sat next to his feet. Crowley, still very content lying down, stretched his arm out and grabbed them and then held one up to Aziraphale.
“Open.” He grinned as Aziraphale eagerly took a bite and then took the punnet from him.
“Mm.” Aziraphale moaned.
He picked a large one and then held onto the stalk and lowered it to Crowley. They were very good strawberries. Just the perfect weather for them, he supposed.
And it was the perfect weather. The rug was very soft and so was Aziraphale and for once he realised he didn’t have a problem with the fact that everything was tartan. Crowley would have never imagined a day like this when Aziraphale had first suggested it, but finally, they were on their own side and neither of them were fearing the future anymore. Crowley could now, in this moment, see a hundred more picnics together and as he looked up at Aziraphale, the sun shining a bright halo around his head, he decided he could not be any happier than he was right now.