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"Ducks.” Said Crowley.
“Uh…Yes, Dear- I do believe we’ve been over this, haven’t we?” Aziraphale responded from his place beside the Serpent. Unsure as to whether or not his beloved was asking a question or had simply felt the urge to call upon a specific strain of waterfowl. “After all I do believe they have some sort of oil in their feath-“
“Wot?” the demon asked, as he craned his head around owlishly to look Aziraphale in the face. “No-no-no…I know ducks are what water slides off!” he hissed, hands flailing as he tried to get his mind back to where it had been before; which was not always a small task for a being with 6,000 plus years of memories to sort through.
“Then…what about ducks?” the angel asked, confusion and slight concern wrinkling his brow as he met the startled gaze of his own reflection in Crowley’s glasses. The book in his lap had been thoroughly abandoned and the quiet quaking and rustling of the subjects of their conversation loitering on the nearby shore filled the sudden silence.
The demon twisted awkwardly on the bench as if trying to get into an even more ridiculous position or perhaps melt through the rough slats and onto the gravel beneath. No doubt embarrassed at his outburst and now desperate to frame his question in a less absurd light. “Ngk…hmmm…are-are muscovy’s….are they ducks…or geese?” he asked, eyebrows scrunching together over the black lenses. He looked back and forth between Aziraphale and a group of the black and white mottled birds which were currently standing around the base of a tree and bobbing their red, wrinkly heads at one another. Their black feathers glinted green in the noon-day sun as they waggled their tails and made soft hissing noises- that anyone less informed might have mistaken for aggression.
Aziraphale tilted his head to the side, firstly caught by the oddity of the question and secondly by the fact that he didn’t really know if they were ducks or not- now that Crowley had brought it up. They certainly looked like ducks, even if they weren’t acting particularly duck-like at that particular moment. They had to be ducks, hadn’t they?
“Ducks.” The angel replied intelligently.
“Nahhhh, couldn’t be- look at ‘em, Angel!” Crowley said shoving a finger in the general direction of the birds, who were paying a bit more attention now that the pair was becoming more animated. “They hiss- like geese do. And I’ve never seen a duck hiss.” He stated.
“Well, they don’t look like geese, Dear. And as far as I know geese only hiss when they’re upset…oh- sort of like those Cockatiels.” Aziraphale hummed, setting his book to the side in favor of the friendly argument they’d begun.
“Cocktails, Angel? Now you’re not making any sense…” Crowley asked, sitting up sharply; he was about to say more but the angel cut him off.
“No, Crowley- not cocktails…cockatiels- the little birds from Australia, the ones with the yellow heads!”
“Ohhh!” Crowley leaned back on the bench again, sudden tension easing from his limbs as he raised his head to stare at the shifting sea of green leaves above him. Aziraphale watched with amusement as mottled bits of golden sunlight shifted across the demon’s face, his coppery locks a brilliant contrast to the emerald forest around them. “Suppose they do hiss…don’t they- cockatiels?” Here a thought seemed to occur to him for he rolled his head back over to face Aziraphale. “But lots of birds hiss don’t they?”
Once again the angel’s head tilted as he cast his gaze across the lake in search of an answer, a slight muddy smell rolled back towards him- the scent of a hot sun across a lake full of both living and dead things amongst a forest full of the same. And while it wasn’t a particularly unpleasant smell it wasn’t exactly a pleasant one either- his nose wrinkled, his lips pursed. “I suppose they do.”
Brown waves lapped at the gravel lined shore as both beings drifted off into thought, sunlight glinting merrily off the lake’s surface reflecting splinters of light across its wave-tossed surface. It was no Saint James, but it was trying very hard to be picturesque and lovely for the unordinary duo. Ducks, geese, and a few of the muscovys bobbed wildly up and down as the wind picked up, seemingly unaffected as they preened, swam lazily, and dove beneath the surface only to pop back up moments later. Aziraphale watched to make sure that they did indeed come up when they meant to- while Crowley didn’t mean any wrong he wasn’t above a bit of ‘duck-bobbing’. Though he’d learned not to try and ‘bob’ the geese after an unfortunate and rather hilarious episode in 1602- or at least it had been hilarious for Aziraphale.
The angel wiggled in amusement at the memory, stifling a chuckle as Crowley looked at him expectantly. “You hiss.” Aziraphale teased lightly, watching as the demon made a series of complicated flailing motions with his hands and produced a series of noises that had probably never been strung together by anyone else.
“Well I’m the great, bloody Serpent of Eden aren’t I? I’m a snake not- not a goose or a- a bloody parrot, Angel!” he growled, though there was clear affection in his voice. “Or a duck!” he stated firmly, settling back down again and glaring pointedly at a small group of said ducks that had toddled a little closer in the hopes of something to nibble on.
Good naturedly the angel miracled up a paper sack of cracked corn, took a handful and sat the bag in the slim space between himself and Crowley. Absentmindedly the demon grabbed a palm-full of kernels and tossed them out after Aziraphale’s handful to the growing crowd- making sure to bean at least one rather bossy grey goose on the rump…it reminded him of Gabriel for some reason.
The subject of muscovys would have likely never arisen if they hadn’t taken a trip to the US- after all a bird native to the Americas wasn’t a common sight in their usual haunts across the sea. They’d come down for the week to visit an opening exhibit of American art and had decided to just drive around a bit and explore part of the globe they hadn’t familiarized themselves with quite as much as either would have liked. And now that they had the time to do it, why not snap the Bentley across the Atlantic and take a drive through the hills and mountains?
“Do ducks hiss, though?” Crowley blurted out, breaking Aziraphale’s train of thought over the rather cramped Frank Lloyd Wright home they’d toured earlier that week.
“Well, I suppose they would…” Aziraphale trailed off, shifting abruptly to look at his incredibly lovely and stupendously idiotic husband- a flicker of unease shifting in the space where his wings were tucked neatly away. They’d been tossing handfuls of corn out to the greedy birds and had amassed quite a following with their miraculously endless bag of feed. All sorts of round little birds waddled around their feet; stretching out their wings and chasing each other away from bits of corn as well as pebbles and bits of sticks that they thought were bits of corn. Only to pit-pat away in disappointment when it was discovered that these objects were not in fact food.
Crowley had gone a bit- still…too still…
It wasn’t the kind of still that suggested the demon had fallen asleep either- no Aziraphale could tell when his lover was sleeping…the deep rise and fall of his chest, the twitch of his long fingers, and occasionally the breath of a snore. Nor was this the kind of thoughtful still that Crowley slipped into when he was thinking comfortably through a problem…no even then he would still fidget and mutter beneath his breath every now and then, even if there were long spans of time between.
No…this was the stillness of a snake ready to strike.
“Shoo- go on run!” Aziraphale shouted, throwing up his hands and bolting off the bench. The birds who were rather used to being chased and screamed at by small children- already distracted and reassured with a veritable feast, did not scatter as he had hoped. And Crowley only sparred a confused glance at the ridiculous looking angel before he turned back to his quarry.
“Crowley, NO!” he shouted, but he was too late- the demon had already wrapped his long, serpentine arms around a rather large drake. The only thing he had accomplished was startling Crowley enough to unbalance him and both duck and demon tumbled to the paved walkway. There was a sudden cacophony of frightened honking, worried quaking, flapping wings- and quite a deal of hissing both of the avian and demonic variety.
“It hisses, Angel!” Crowley called out proudly, waving the white duck triumphantly over his head. Only pausing to hiss back as the bird buffeted its white wings against his arms.
“Crowley- put that duck down!” Aziraphale ordered, glancing hurriedly around to check and see if anyone had noticed.
“Oh, you’re no fun, Angel.” Crowley teased- duck still hoisted over his head, making small worried noises as it squirmed a bit in the demon’s careful grasp. “Oi, oi- settle down I’m not gonna hurt ya!” he growled. The duck made a noise of decided protest in return.
“Put that bird down before we get kicked out of the park or …” he hunted for something else to aid his argument better than park regulations which he knew the demon would be all too happy to toy with “or…it- it poops on you! The angel huffed.
This at least seemed to do the trick as the demon gave a speculative glance at the wriggling bird above his head and decided not to chance it. Sitting up and lowering the bird to the ground where it then proceeded to nip angrily at his fingers and legs in retalition.
The demon was quite powerless on the ground considering he was an immortal entity, literally capable of stopping time itself. If that failed he could easily snap the beastie out of existence entirely. Or he could shapeshift into a serpent large enough to swallow the little duck whole, never mind who saw. And while many a demon might have set the duck’s tail feathers on fire or turned into a swarm of maggots to rend flesh from bone…Crowley had never really ‘sauntered’ as far down as he said he had. As he thought he had. It was only by some possibly ‘ineffable’ virtue that he’d been stationed on Earth right from the get-go. And while he hadn’t exactly been spared all the pain of Falling, he had indeed managed to avoid quite a number of Hell’s tortures by his status as The Original Tempter.
And for all his wiles, here he was allowing himself to be mauled by a duck.
“Crowley, I don’t know how someone as clever as you can be so stupid.” Aziraphale deadpanned, hands clasped behind his back as the duck flogged the demon’s folded up legs with its wings. Angry honks and hisses traded in both directions as Crowley fought to get a hand down onto the ground so he could push himself up- only to have the vicious bird lock onto the new and very vulnerable targets. The strange battle went on for a moment- the demon trying to stand only to have the duck thwart him, forcing him to curl back up into a little protective ball.
“Angel! Aren’t you ever…ow, bloody bastard! Aren’t you ever…ow…going to…oi, oi- that hurts…let that one…fuck…go?!” Crowley yelped, trying to shield his ears from the duck now that it had determined that those too were an easy point of attack.
“Eventually, dear boy- though to be fair you did antagonize him.” Aziraphale responded, deciding that his husband had probably learned his lesson. He managed to slip in-between duck and demon long enough for the man-shaped being to get to his feet, though the drake by that point had determined that this was a battle he could win and so wasn’t ready to give up quite yet.
It wasn’t every day that an ordinary duck drew an immortal’s blood…not that it had yet. But if there was such a thing as bloodlust, than all the fury of War had been packed into its tiny bird brain and round, wobbly body. The slap of snake-skin loafers against cement and the frantic patter of little webbed feet made their way back to the bench where Crowley had decided to take refuge. Unfortunately, the bench wasn’t high enough to prevent the duck from leaping up onto it- not that the bench would have been too tall for the duck to reach if it had been on the top of a twenty-story building. Perhaps even if Crowley had decided to fly directly up to the gates of Heaven to seek asylum…it still wouldn’t have been quite far enough.
“Angel…help me!” Crowley whined, shaking a foot at his assailant only to just avoid falling off the back of the bench by wildly pin-wheeling his arms. “Blast the bloody books, Aziraphale! The fuckin’ bastard’s…ow-ow-ow…trying to discorporate me over here!” he howled as the angel scooped his books safely into his book bag and out of harm’s way.
Though had that crimson tome been there a moment before? It must have, though he couldn’t remember why he’d brought it with him- oh well, it wasn’t important.
By now the small animal was peppering Crowley’s ankles with a flurry of bites and nips, he was lucky it didn’t have claws quite as sharp as the muscovys did or else the ends of his trousers would have already been in ribbons. A few ducks had taken the opportunity to get at the bag of corn which had been knocked over in the scuffle and were happily feasting despite the ruckus. Though the geese had been worked into a frenzy and were pacing around the main body of waterfowl, honking loudly in their distress and indecision on whether to avoid the fight or descend upon the meal. So that the Principality had to wade through, and in fact- step over a few unruly fiends in his effort to scoot to the other end of the bench.
“Off- off- off!” Aziraphale scolded, lightly herding the duck back down onto the ground. “You’ve had quite your say already!” The duck hissed and paced angrily around the bench, but remained respectful enough of the angel to avoid outright attacking Crowley’s legs again.
“That’sss right, fuck off- you feathery bassstard!” Crowley hissed, forked tongue striking out as he flashed a set of pearly-white fangs. Fangs that would’ve perhaps been more intimidating had he not been perched atop a park bench. Aziraphale watched the display with amusement, trying to hide the bubble of laughter threatening to work its way up his throat. The demon fidgeted with his clothes, straightening them as if they were wayward feathers- arms crossed, sharp nose pointed downwards at the mostly-harmless waterfowl. “And what are you laughing at, Angel? You could’ve helped me sooner…just left me on the ground…with that-that thing. That bloody, demon murderer!”
“I’m sorry, my dear boy, I just-“ the angel doubled over, lost in his own laughter. “Oh, Crowley you’re not hurt are you, dearest?” he managed to get out, tears of mirth welling in his eyes.
“Ngk…nothing but my pride, Angel.” Crowley snapped, cheeks and nose a brilliant shade of scarlet. “And how am I supposed to get back…this- this fucking duck is going to be here ogling me all night!” Another round of laughter erupted from the angel, rocking his shoulders with giddy sobs until he had to sit down on the bench; each protest, angered quack, or pitiful look up at his beloved only sent him reeling again. Eventually both of them were all but literally rolling with laughter for several minutes before the waves of slightly hysterical chuckling finally abated.
The duck however was still as pissed as before.
“Well…I think it’s time we left dearest, we’ve made ourselves quite unwelcome here for the time being.” Aziraphale grinned, watching as the drake tried to test his boundaries by way of sticking his beak up over the bench and snapping at the air in front of Crowley’s toes.
“Do you want me to make a run for it Angel?” Crowley asked, edging back as far as he could without losing his balance again. “I doubt if I could get away from it even if I flew.” The mental image of Crowley getting flogged mid-flight was mildly humorous, but it certainly wasn’t safe for either entity and he definitely didn’t want Crowley to actually get hurt by the stubborn thing.
“No, I have a better idea- do you trust me, dear?
“Always, Angel.” Crowley hummed, face softening so quickly the scowl seemed to melt off his face. His voice dropping into that gentle, satin-soft tone reserved purely for Aziraphale as he looked down into mischievous blue eyes. “You know that.” A foot shifted awkwardly against the bench, scuffing at the worn wood.
“Alright then.” Aziraphale huffed as he stood up and shifted his bag so that it rested behind him- then edged his way up beside Crowley, only sparring a quick miracle to throw the empty bag into the nearest bin. Once he was there he held out his arms imploringly, fingers twitching in an obvious ‘come-here’ gesture.
“You’re going to carry me all the way back to the Bentley, Angel?” he snorted, eyebrows raised and cheeks flushing again as he shuffled nervously on top of the bench.
“I don’t see why not, dear boy. Now do I have to come up there and get you- or are you going to come to me?” Aziraphale asked sternly. “Sometimes I think you forget I’m still a solider- whether I work for Heaven or Earth.” Here he paused as Crowley knelt down as much as he dared with an angry duck that would happily bite him on the arse if the opportunity presented itself. He yelped a bit in flustered surprise as the angel scooped him up without a moment’s notice. “And you, dear- are as light as a feather in my arms.” The statement punctuated with a soft kiss pressed to the demon’s nose.
An arm looped under Crowley’s legs and the other wrapped securely around his shoulders was enough to hold him safely out of the duck’s reach. The Serpent buried his head in the crook of Aziraphale’s shoulders to hide his obvious blush, wrapping his arms around the angel’s neck as he was carried off down the path as if he were the easiest burden the angel had ever carried.
Halfway up the hill the stubborn duck finally decided to turn around and rejoin the flock, though it made its opinion known to everything within five miles of the lake on its way back. Meanwhile, Crowley allowed himself to relax into his angel’s grasp- breathing in the warm scent of Aziraphale’s cologne, the ever-present smell of old paper and fresh ink, and the subtlest undertone of tea and chocolate that almost always hung on his breath. Neither one of them bothered to mention the fact that the duck had left them alone- they simply enjoyed the stroll back to the Bentley in companionable silence. Broken only and pleasantly be the frequent moments in which Aziraphale would look down to press light kisses across the demon’s face- forehead, eyelids, nose, and lips. How could he not when he saw Crowley watching him with adamant adoration written all across his face? The sunglasses had been stowed away for the duration of the journey, and golden eyes were left bared for the Principality to admire.
The long trek back up the hill and across the parking lot might have taken a whole fifteen minutes longer than it had taken them to walk down…but it still ended too soon when they finally arrived back beside the gleaming form of the Bentley. Crowley clung onto his comfortable place tucked against the angel’s chest, reluctant to move his head from Aziraphale’s shoulder even as his feet were lowered to the ground.
“Unnngh…don’t wanna-“ he groaned as Aziraphale embraced him fully, rocking them gently from side to side.
“I know dear.” He murmured quietly. “But if you’ll let go of me we can drive back into town for dinner and find somewhere to kip for the night” He promised, though the demon only grunted in what sounded like affirmation and kept his stubborn grip around the angel’s middle. “I’ll read you the rest of Oliver Twist until you fall asleep in my arms…how does that sound dearest?”
“Promise?” Crowley asked, untucking his head from where he’d buried it in the angel’s neck- golden gaze sleepy and hopeful.
“Yes, and it’s got a lovely ending, I promise.” Aziraphale replied, both regretful and relived when he felt the demon’s arms squeeze him once more before loosening. Before either of them could step too far back Crowley pressed a gentle kiss against his angel’s lips, then moved to open the door for him. It was going to be a lovely drive into town with their fingers laced together over the gear-shift and if the Bentley had any say in it- ‘Good Ole’ Fashioned Lover Boy’ blaring out the open windows.
It would only be later that night after a lovely meal when both of them were tucked into a miraculously comfortable hotel bed that a thought would occur to Crowley. A piece of information so blatantly obvious that it would rocket him from the precipice of sleep to sit bolt upright in bed, cutting off the gentle lull of Aziraphale’s voice.
“Ducks! Muscovy Ducks- it’s in the name, I’m a bloody idiot!” he cried, loud enough to wake a traveling salesman across the hall.
“No, you are not, Crowley! Now go back to bed!” Aziraphale huffed, a bit miffed sense the demon had startled him so badly he’d nearly launched his book across the room. Only having survived similar encounters over the millennia with Crowley had familiarized him enough to be somewhat desensitized to such unexpected outbursts.
It still took a fair bit of tempting on the angel’s part to get the flame-haired, demon tucked back beneath the comforters against his side- head pillowed on his shoulder. The arm underneath his husband’s neck carded carefully through the short, coppery locks- rubbing gently into his scalp until Crowley was nothing more than a sleepy puddle of black silk. Aziraphale hummed quietly as soft snores crept into the relative silence of the hotel- laid his book carefully onto the side table with their place marked and drifted off after him.