Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The ship rocked back-and-forth through the harsh waves of the sea. Commotions can be heard outside the deck as the captain shouted instructions at their crew. Thumping footsteps vibrated at the hardwood floors of the ships. Violent tears of rain dropped like rocks, paired with a strong wind current. A loud crash of thunder could be heard in the distance. It was chaos.

Contrast to the calm situation inside the captain’s cabin, where a certain ethereal creature was resting its feet on the table while it leaned on its seat. Unbothered by the loud screams of struggle outside. It found comfort in the current situation. The rain seems to whisper something at the creature, saying reassurances.

“You’ll be meeting him again…”

“You’ll be able to share drinks and pleasantries again…”

“You’ll be seeing him soon, be patient…”

The ethereal entity sighed in comfort and relaxation, dreaming of someone. Dreamt his soft blond hair, twinkling blue eyes that shone brighter than stars itself, the beaming smile that makes everyone feel a warm and fluttering sensation in their body, and smooth plump cheeks.

“Aziraphale…”

The storm still weren’t done on causing wrath and havoc at the sea when the cabin’s door swung open. 

“Master Crowley, are you alright?” A thick voice said, panting as he said his words. 

“Hm?” Crowley’s eyes snapped open at the sudden interruption. “Yeah, I’m ‘right.”

“There’s currently an unexpected storm outside. A strong one.” The drenched-looking man said.

“Oh, I didn't notice that…” He muttered mockingly.

“The captain doesn’t know how long it will last. By the strong current, he estimates it might take long hours before we can escape the storm. You might experience a lot of violent shaking, therefore he advises you to hold somewhere to keep your balance—” As he was finishing his speech, he held tightly at the door frame as the ship rocked sideways. Crowley held at the table for support when his feet fell to the ground, balancing himself from almost falling off his chair. 

“Shit!” The demon cursed. People outside the deck soon followed with their screams of curses as well. Taken aback by the abrupt push of the water, teamed up with the wind.

When the ship returned to its original position, the drenched-looking fellow bid Crowley a quick goodbye as he closed the door and went back after being called by the captain. The demon himself took a long sigh of relief. 

It might take them a day or two longer to land at the port of Barbados. His plan wasn’t entirely ruined yet, and he intended it to stay that way. He hoped everything would go smoothly from now on. He couldn’t risk their meetup getting interrupted yet again. Besides, there was another purpose for the trip. One of them is him surprising Aziraphale. 

It was Aziraphale’s turn to do both the blessings and tempting, and this time he was doing it in Barbados. Nothing major really, just a quick blessing and tempting here and there, all while going to different places to try out food and other things angels shouldn’t do. But Aziraphale is different. He fell in love with the humanity, especially how different the delicacies were around the world. 

Stated in their plan, Aziraphale would be the first one to arrive, then Crowley after two days. But Crowley wanted to spend more time with the angel. He can’t wait for two days until they could meet each other again. He obviously wouldn’t admit it out loud, but that’s basically it. He surely didn’t inform Aziraphale about the change of plans he had conjured.

Speaking of Aziraphale, he wondered where he was now. He knows that the blond would be either using a ship to sail to Barbados or an unlikely amount of miracle to teleport himself. And it wouldn’t be Crowley if he didn’t pitch the idea of them both taking the ride together to Barbados, which Aziraphale immediately shot down. Their Arrangement was still new, and he’s still adjusting to the whole idea that the demon gave. 

All could Crowley do was sit back and wait for them to dock at their destination, while trying to imagine what would happen if Aziraphale agreed on sailing together…

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It had been 6 days since they had started sailing to their destination. Still no information on the whereabouts of Aziraphale if he had already docked or teleported.

During his time on the relatively small merchant ship he had stolen by tempting the captain, he only did one thing — sleep. There was nothing else to do, really. He had already tempted the captain and the crew by planting seeds of sin. He’ll have to only wait for a year or so until Hell could have them. Then after that, nothing. 

The trip was mostly uneventful, except for the time they encountered a tough storm a few days back. The captain said that they would reach Barbados in no more than four or six days. It made Crowley’s chest feel lighter. He could work with that estimation.

The sun had fallen down now, and the crew are resting their eyes for now. Gathered around outside the deck where they set up their blankets and pillows, excluding Crowley, who’s been given the luxurious treatment in the cabin.

There he is lying on the decently sized bed with his eyes protected by his sunglasses. Having a nap, even though he doesn’t need it. He’s a demon, after all. But one could only adjust to how humans behave after being stuck in the Earth for thousands of years by now. 

The night was peaceful. The waves were calm and the whispers of the wind were gentle. The sea cradled the ship like a baby. They were in the middle of the sea; no boats or ships can be seen for miles away. 

The captain was sure of it.

Crash!

“Fuck!—”

“Captai—”

A loud shriek boomed and echoed throughout the whole ship. 

Crowley perked up and sat up at the sudden noise. His entire body tensed, sensing immediate danger. “The fuck…”

He was about to stand and go towards the source, planning to miracle them away, when he heard a heavy thump on the floor. He froze in his position, shoulders becoming stiff. 

Yeah, I’m not going out.

Instead, he scanned the dimly lit room for any spots he could hide. There, in the dark corner, he could make out an outline of a barrel. He didn’t waste any time in rushing towards the said item. The barrel was relatively large, could probably fit his size. He lifted the cover to see that it was full of seeds. With a snap of a finger, it disappeared from its existence. 

Another heavy drop at the floor shook Crowley into getting faster. He slid the cover back just enough to give himself an opening. Then, his body shifted and turned into a creature of a venomous family of the animal kingdom — a giant ass red-bellied black snake. He slithered onto the barrel, making sure it does not fall over, and closed the rest of the barrel with its black tail.

The cries of the ship’s crew were still vibrating through his ears. The clashes of metal as the people fought for their freedom, but to no avail. One by one, they fell. The captain and his crew weren’t strong enough against the more experienced foes. The destruction and mayhem in the ship lasted for a few more minutes, even though it felt like hours to Crowley.

He should be happy. He should be rejoicing about this! There's chaos between humans! But not when it posed a threat to him. He can’t risk his body being discorporated. And did you hear the scream of victory from the opponents after they had defeated the ship's crew? No way he would go out now when he knows hat he’ll be stabbed dead in a span of second if he even made a sound. All he could do was sit and hide in this claustrophobic spot until they were gone. 

“Captain, it looks like they’re all dead now.”

Shit.

Of course, It’s pirates! What the fuck was he expecting? They’re probably here to satisfy their lust for blood and for their supplies. They won’t stay here for long. No way that they would want this stinky, small ship. They’ll be gone in a snap of a second, then he will be left alone controlling this ship towards his destination. Yeah, that sounds about right. His plan would be fine after all.

All he needed to do is to not make any noise that indicates that there’s one more entity in the ship, stay alert for any threats, then after they leave he’ll miracle the dead bodies away that he was sure present on the deck then sail like nothing ever happened. Easy.

Amidst Crowley’s planning, the door in the captain’s quarter swung open like the dude wanted to break it or something. The snake refrained himself from jumping back and stayed still. He studied the heavy thumps of boots that walked around the room. The grunts and amused whistles of the man when he found something interesting. What was even worth being intrigued inside his room, anyway? It was bloody basic and boring. 

Then the captain spoke in a steely, loud voice.

“This ship will suffice for a while.”

Woah, what the fuck? Suffice? Are they stealing his ship? No, no, no….

“Captain, this ship is full of supplies. Enough for a month.” One of his crew (probably) informed him from the other side.

Shit, shit, shit…

“Well, I made up my mind. This ship is ours now!” The captain yelled in a tone like they had found the perfect ship. His crew followed suit, with them cheering happily back at the deck. 

Oh, fuck…

Yep, he’s so fucking screwed. 

His fear and paranoia was even heightened when he heard a pair of boots approaching towards him. His whole body tensed as he tried to restrain himself from hissing loudly, or at all. The man continued his way to the barrel, curiosity radiating over him. Merely a few inches apart when Crowley ducked his head back and got ready with his stance as he re-adjust himself quietly. He could feel the wooden cover being picked up by the pirate. Crowley hissed discreetly and showed his fangs out, preparing to defend himself. The lid was sliding off. The light of the moon radiating down at him as it bounced through the walls, feeling for it, and then—

“Captain,” a masculine voice pierced through the uncomfortable and long silence.

The man, startled, slid the cover back and sighed irritably, abandoning his curiosity for the next day. “What?”

“Where should we head off now, captain?” The member asked his superior. 

“Hmm…” Finally, the captain stepped back and walked away from him. “Does Dan know where we are? Or just some shit guess about the coordinates?” He continued to his heel out the cabin while he talked with his crew. The conversation being zoned out as Crowley calmed himself.

That bastard’s gone!

Thank Satan! 

His body slowly cooled itself down, although still staying on high alert. His tongue hissed faintly, thinking of what would happen to him. 

He’ll be stuck here for Hell knows how long, in his snake form. He doesn’t know when these idiots would be stopping on some kind of land. Hopefully, in a few hours or, at best, in a few days. He would need to form some kind of ploy fast. The plan to surprise Aziraphale may be compromised, but if he can still spend some time with him after this back in Barbados, then he’ll do what the fuck it takes. 

He just needs to know where they’ll be going. The first step before he can organize a thought. 

He hissed again, faintly, as he thought about his best friend.

Oh, angel… I’ll be there soon…

Chapter Text

“Hmm!” The ethereal creature breathed in delight after taking a forkful into its watering mouth. The supposed entity was having a wonderful time with its meal. Three nice rolls of a perfectly cooked crêpe sprinkled with powdered sugar and topped with a few berries, and paired with a bottle of white wine. It was perfect.

It made the entity forget how long it waited just to get a hold of this scrumptious meal through a rather busy shop in the streets of Paris.

Raindrops tapped the shop's window while slowly sliding off to the ground. The cloud was a shade of light grey and covered the rays of the sun. The gloomy atmosphere and chilly air outside contradicted the general mood of the warm, cosy and comforting vibe inside the establishment. And the heavenly scent of delicious and freshly cooked foods floated across people’s noses. 

After the entity took another tasty bite, a hand reached out to grab the glass filled with a fine quality of white wine. It took a sip to down its mouth’s content, then placed it down on the table again. 

Whilst the entity was enjoying its food, something at the back of its brain seemed to echo something.

“Angels shouldn’t be eating human food…” It said.

Well, you’re wrong, not-totally-made-up-someone. It’s fine for an angel to relish the finer things of humanity; especially when the world is at war with each other. It’s like in every corner; there will be some sort of fight, one way or another. It was exhausting for an angel.

Especially for Principality Aziraphale of the Eastern Gate. 

Because of this, he had turned himself towards what humans had made during all this time after the Almighty granted the humanity free will. And he would be lying if he wasn’t impressed by how far the humanity had become. Both in a good and bad way. 

He’s impressed at how humans learned to cook different kinds of unique delicacies around the world, how they’ve created and designed clothes in such beautiful ways, their inventions for transportations, and Aziraphale’s personal favourite — books. 

But alas, humanity must also have its downside. Mortals had taken the advantage of using the weaponry they had created supposed to protect the innocents and drive justice, but instead is being used to kill their same kind. This societal hierarchy they had built themselves where equality is non-existent and they divide people by their social standing and giving the poor the least attention and kindness, giving them chores and instructions on how to do things in the superior’s liking. It made him think of Upstairs, but worse. There’s more that he dislikes through the millennia that he couldn’t keep track of without making his heart wrench and his stomach drop.

But one of them is the idea of piracy. 

He still wonders which demon whispered the suggestion and the design of it while it spread across like wildfire. More and more people are turning themselves into this kind of dangerous job. Even children think it’s a cool profession, when in reality you either stop doing piracy by getting caught or being killed in the middle of the sea by other pirates. There’s no retirement in this profession. It really saddens Aziraphale’s heart that people choose that life. But who could blame them, really? The state of the living was never easy for humans who were born poor. Especially on the islands near the Caribbean Sea. Goodness was it rough out there. 

He thought it was Crowley who proposed the practice to these desperate mortals, which really isn’t surprising as he’s a demon and all. The demon denied the angel’s accusations and said that he had no idea how it existed. He said that it was entirely made by humans themselves, and that he was sure that the demons have nothing to do with it, since he’s the only logical one in his lot. 

Although he was happy when the Downstairs thought it was because of him and got a commendation. 

Speaking of Crowley, he couldn’t quite figure out when they had started ‘fraternizing’ with each other. No words can describe how unusual it is between two polar opposites of the coin. But it's also an advantage, he supposed. Because of this, they would hang out and have lunch as Aziraphale does his best to interrupt Crowley’s demonic activities. The angel was sure that Crowley knows what he was doing, but wasn’t doing anything to stop it. In fact, he seems to enjoy it. 

Another thing that had sprouted from them fraternizing with each other was the Arrangement. It’s an idea that Crowley proposed to both of them, as he saw how they’re basically going back-and-forth with each other’s plans that they can’t actually do anything and in turn nothing to report back to their respective superiors. Obviously, Aziraphale opposed his attempt, not wanting to be seen fraternizing with his mortal enemy. But as the time passed, Aziraphale finally gave up and reluctantly agreed to his offer. 

Which brings us to the present, where the angel is currently tasked with travelling to Barbados to do both the blessing and occasional tempting to balance each of them out. However, he still hasn’t made the move yet, seemingly enjoying his time in Paris, France. He wasn’t in a rush, really, and it’s not like Crowley would be mad at him. Although he should probably get along before the demon visits, as they’ll be occupied as soon as he landed. 

Aziraphale took his last gulp of the fine wine before wiping his mouth with a napkin and sighing in content. That had just been a scrumptious meal, and every bit of waiting was worth it. He was also quite buzzed after drinking one too many glasses while he was waiting to keep his appetite pre-occupied, then while he was eating. 

Before he can stand up from his seat, he saw a poor little boy across the messy street. Dirt and begging for any kind of help from the passerby who just ignored him and didn’t give a second glance. Some even avoided him like a filthy little bug. 

It made the angel’s heart break and stomach twist in such pity. The kid looks terrible. A torn, stained piece of shirt (if it still can be called it like that for how destroyed the fabric is) hung loosely at his grubby malnourished form—too thin for his age and with his messy dark hair all damp. 

Aziraphale didn't think twice about giving the child a lending hand in the form of a blessing. Besides, he's an angel. This is what his lot does. 

Satisfied with his deed, he stood up from his seat and left the shop. He walked down the cobblestone street and turned the corner to continue his way, almost stumbling before he caught himself. He still has one stop to go before he can set off to Barbados. A blessing or a miracle has to be performed at the local bookshop down the next three streets. Apparently, the owner of the bookshop has dedicated his entire life to serve the Almighty and the Upstairs decided to show him their appreciation (it was also because the man was fated to die in a month, so he might as well have his last hurrah). 

At last, he had reached his destination. The bookshop stood between two abandoned stores, a fabric store on the right and a small bakery on the opposite. The exterior looked well-kept enough, although some cracks marred the walls. A little wooden sign hung above the door: “Mr. Shawn’s Extensive Bookshop”, it read. The angel opened the creaky wooden arch door and welcomed himself inside. The old age of the shop was now visible to Aziraphale’s eyes. It wasn’t as cleaned as he thought it would be. The whole place was covered in thick dust and cobwebs, with spindly, unoccupied seats across the reading area and the aisles of books untouched for ages. 

“Hello?” Aziraphale called out at the desolated space. He glanced at the small reception desk to see no sign of any humans. 

“Hello—” He tried again, but this time someone hollered before he could even finish his words. 

“Ici!” A gruff voice cried somewhere in the depths of this place. Aziraphale looked around to search for the source, but found no one. It was moments later when a figure emerged from a door at the back that the angel hadn’t noticed. Probably because of the lack of lighting that you couldn’t really see a thing unless you squint hard to see past the drifting particles of dust. 

A small beacon of light assisted by a shadow approached to him. Mere seconds later, he’s now joined by an old, tall man, who stood right in front of him. He looked to be in his early seventies, a soft and gentle looking fellow. He wore a white long-sleeved button-down shirt and plain brown pants. A black beret casually worn at the right of his silvered head. One of his hand was busy clutching the candleholder as he held it between them. 

“Comment puis-je vous aider, monsieur?” The older man smiled fondly at his unexpected guest. 

“Uh…” Aziraphale cleared his throat. He had forgotten that he was in France for a second, given by how he didn’t have to speak French back in the café he had gone to earlier, since the owner there could both speak and understand English fairly well.  “Oui, bonjour. Êtes-vous Shawn Garnier?” He asked. He could only hope he had said it right. It was a tad bit embarrassing for Aziraphale to not be fluent (or at least be decent) in French, as he seems to visit the country frequently to have nice crêpes. 

“Oui.” The other person nodded.

“Je m’appelle Aziraphale Fell… uh…” He paused as he tried to rack his brain for anything. He was tempted to ask the older gentleman if he knows how to speak, or at least understand, English. Not going to lie, his French language book would be pretty useful right now. “Je… A été envoyé — do you speak English?” He couldn’t hold it any longer. His French had failed him,  and he hated that he had to ask the poor old man to speak in another language. 

Much to Aziraphale’s relief, the man nodded and chuckled amusingly. “Yes, I can. Though I’m not good.” 

The angel breathed a grateful sigh that he had been holding. He smiled, “Well, that’s good then!” For the second time, he cleared his throat as to indicate that he’ll be continuing whatever he was supposed to say earlier.  “I should probably introduce myself again. Good afternoon, my name’s Aziraphale Fell.” He held out his hand for the taller man to shake. 

He took it and gave a polite squeeze. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Fell.” He beamed.

“Well, I’m here to express gratitude,” their hands now fell back to their sides, “on behalf of my employer.”

He was met by an awkward silence and a puzzling look from the mortal. Just what he had expected.

“Pardon?” The man muttered.

The principality only smiled softly. “I’m a member of one of the travelling church groups. We have noticed how you’ve dedicated your entire life to serving the Almighty and being a kind person. So, we have gathered and decided to give you a visit and express our appreciation.”

A wide smile broke out on the Shawn’s face, with his confusion still intact in his ever-so-expressive face. “Oh, thank you.” His toothy smile was entirely genuine. “It’s not a big deal. It’s only a small thing to do to pay my respect and love for everything God has done for us.” 

“Exactly.” Aziraphale nodded in agreement.

Shawn fidgeted with his free hand as he asked in a nervous voice. “But why me?”

“How’s your bookshop doing? It’s been a goal of mine to build my own.” The angel changed the topic, deigning not to answer Shawn’s inquiry. To be honest, he isn’t sure either. Gabriel just sent a vague letter, telling him to travel to Paris, France and give a blessing or comply to the wish of this gentleman. There was also the part where, as previously mentioned, Mr. Garnier would be kicking the bucket soon, which made it all more sympathetic to him. 

The man dismissed his own question, thinking it was stupid and weird that he ignored it, but nevertheless answered the curious question instead. “It’s alright, I suppose.” He shrugged. “And you mentioned you’ll be building a bookshop of your own?” By now, he had gestured for Aziraphale to sit in on the nearest chair, which he declined, seeing that a little weight was enough to break it with how 'sturdy' the condition is.

“Oh, yes! Though, it’s still in the works. I haven’t thought about where exactly yet.” The angel admitted. It was refreshing to talk to someone who loves books as much as him. 

“Can I share an advice?” 

“Please do.” Aziraphale smiled thankfully at him. Finally, he found a seat that appears to be durable enough for any human weight and sat on it, inviting the older man to sit across from him at the little table positioned in the middle. He placed the candle at the centre and looked at the visitor.

“Definitely build your bookshop somewhere populated and always buzzing. You certainly don’t want to end up like me, jeune monsieur.” He chuckled at himself. “This street was once popular, but sadly, it got less and less populated. People started moving elsewhere.”

That explains why the shops next to this are abandoned, and why Aziraphale barely saw any signs of passersby on their way here. “By the looks of it, you weren’t able to move along with them, then soon enough, you’re the only standing shop here.” His eyes noted the shabby state of the bookshop. 

“Oui.” Shawn sighed. “After my femme died 5 years ago, I had a hard time keeping the place clean. My enfants are scattered around the country, living their lives.” He drew out a sorrowful breath as he played with the gold band on his finger. 

The angel pitied at the man and gave him a sympathetic small smile. They stayed silent until the little cogs on his woozy mind conjured an idea. “Have you considered giving the business to one of your children?”

Shawn, who was fiddling with his ring, gaped at the angel before laughing. “Oh, absolument!” 

“Really?” He knitted his brows in scepticism, like he was the first one to suggest the idea and didn’t think the man would've thought about it. 

“Oui. But it’s not really an option for me.” After his laughter subsided, he sighed. “No one in my family wants to be near my bookshop, and would rather go everywhere but this place. My oldest, Charles, even said that this was a failure and I would go to ruins. I’m starting to believe him as the days passed.”

Everything he just said was now tugging at Aziraphale’s heartstrings. It’s not the saddest story he’d heard, but that doesn’t make it any less heartbreaking. He was now on board help the man with whatever he wished to have. 

“I had dreams, once. I wanted to travel around with my femme, with my famille. Live some-where peaceful and away from this stinking city. I had made plans on going somewhere with her after our children left, but I wasn’t able to sell the place. Now, I’m definitely stuck here until I die.” He said in a quiet, quivering voice. Shawn forced a small, tight-lipped smile as he glanced at Aziraphale, “but I guess it is a blessing to die in the same place as my wife.”

“What would you say if God decided to grant one of your wishes?”  Shawn sounded down-to-earth enough to not wish for any types of fortune or riches, after that unfortunate confession he had shared. Aziraphale hoped it wasn’t anything big. Especially when he had polished off an entire bottle of wine before leaving the café. He couldn’t risk failing this task. He searched for any glasses or bottles that he could use to discreetly transfer all the wine content from his system. Much to his dismay, there were no containers nearby to do his quick sober-up magic. 

No, I can do this! A part of Aziraphale shouted at himself internally, keeping himself from being discovered that he was tipsy. It looks like he can handle it so far.

The man played into Aziraphale’s question. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He chuckled quietly. “I would like to go somewhere away from this place. Somewhere peace and isolated, maybe in  a beach or — are you alright?” The older man cut himself after seeing the blond blink multiple times in a span of a second. 

“Yes, I’m alright. Nothing to worry about, Mr. Gardner.” He smiled reassuringly, though it resembles more of a grimace. “So, you’re saying that you want to take a break from all this and go somewhere that no one can disturb you? Am I right?” 

“Uh…” The bemused man nodded hesitatingly as he grew concerned, “oui.”

That’s easy.

The angel smirked confidently. “Rest assured, dear, I’m sure the Almighty hears your request.” Under his lap, a hand clasped together, the middle and thumb meeting and ready to make a sound. He looked at the man with excitement, granting his wish like a genie, “that will be taken care of—”

Snap!

“—us. Ouch!” Aziraphale yelped when his buttocks landed on a flat surface and his hands made contact with… sand? Wait, what? 

“We’ve been marooned here—what the fuck?” A voice muttered not too far away from him. Looking up, he immediately shielded his eyes from the harsh rays of the bright, scorching sun. His head turned around to seek for the source of the voice, only to squint at how intense the brightness was that he couldn’t focus.

Another person’s voice shouted in bewilderment, “where the hell did you come from?” 

His vision finally refocused that he’s able to make out people staring and gaping at him. He wasn’t able to decipher the expressions etched on their faces at this moment. Panic filling his entire mind; he examined the place he’s currently in with alarmed eyes. 

This is not the bookshop, nor is it France! This is… 

He came to an embarrassing and mortifying conclusion. 

“Fuck.”

Chapter Text

“Fuck.” Was all Aziraphale could say. 

He sat still on the sizzling sand, frozen with dread, no intention of moving. He had messed up big time. 

He had teleported himself into the middle of an endless blue, as far as he can see. Far away from everything but the burning gaze of the sun. Here he is, ass-first, on the sandy shore of a tiny island.

“Um, hello?”

With random people. 

“Er…” At last, he glanced up towards the huddled, dumfounded crowd . “Hello.”

Nobody spoke back, too stunned to do anything except gawk at the platinum blond, posh-looking white man who wasn’t there before. One man, whose hair was a slicked-back, darker shade of blond, opened his mouth before shutting it again. He looked a bit scared. 

They just stared at each other for God knows how long. The comforting rhythm of the small crashes of the waves and the few squawks of passing birds  being their music. 

Someone coughed, startling everybody, even the angel. A man with darker skin and larger build spoke up after noting that nobody would do it. “Hello. Who are you and where the fuck did you came from?” His tone was calm, but Aziraphale could sense the threat underneath it, simmering. 

The angel got to his feet and shook off any remnants of sand on his clothes. He stretched out a hand to shake, only for these unknown mortals to stare at it with uncertainty and anxiousness. Being formal and polite was the number one in his book of how being social towards anybody. “My name’s Aziraphale Fell. Nice to meet you.” He smiled sweetly and innocently at them.

The blond, dishevelled man stalked forward gingerly while he cleared his throat. He took the hand that was still hanging loose and shook it with firmness. “Stede Bonnet.” He mumbled.

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up with recognition, “Oh! You’re the Gentleman Pirate, I presume?” He asked, though he already knew the answer. Yes, he dislikes piracy and pirates, but it’s impossible to ignore these infamous names circling across people’s gossipy mouths. It surprised him to know that there was an actual pirate who didn’t murder people and instead killed with ‘kindness’. He tried to believe it, although after discovering that Stede was acquaintances with the fearsome Blackbeard, he had come to the conclusion that the rumor was false. 

Now here he was, standing eye to eye with the infamous pirate. Shaking hands like everything he had learned previously was thrown away. 

“Yes, I am. Well, I was… ” The man, Stede, trailed off nervously. Whether Aziraphale was confused or not, he didn’t press further on the matter. The angel’s smile didn’t falter after their hands had separated, and he looked up at the close-knit group of humans. Stede noticed this and stepped back to introduce them. “They’re my crew. Oluwande, Roach, Buttons, The Swede, Black Pete, and Wee John.”

Ah! Pirates….

“Hello to you all…” Aziraphale waved a little at them, unsure what to do. He should probably teleport back to the bookshop, though it would be uncanny to pop in like he hadn’t just vanished into thin air in front of a poor human. 

“No offence,” a throaty voice cut through the obvious tension between all of them, “but I smell something occult about you.”

The angel’s head swivelled around to see a bearded, wide-eyed man staring back at him with an indiscernible expression on his sunburned face due to all the heat it had endured. His hair was lank and gingery, with a large bald spot on the crown of his head. 

Aziraphale wanted to correct the man that he wasn’t occult and that he was ethereal, but decided that it might be better to let it slide once. It probably wasn’t the right time to go correcting a mortal whose guess was almost accurate. He opened his mouth  to speak when someone else beat him to it:

“I have to agree with Buttons on this one…” It was the other man of a darkener skintone, except his body was smaller and skinnier.

Stede looked apologetically at Aziraphale.  “Please excuse their antics, err, they’re like that. Well, it was mostly Buttons and Frenchie, but now Roach is becoming like them, it seems.” 

The ethereal creature only chuckled and dismissed it, seeing the offended look and eye roll of the man named Roach. “It’s fine, really. I was actually surprised that you guys guessed it immediately.”

“You literally appeared out of nowhere, so it wasn’t hard.” A person stated it as matter-of-factly. It sounded like someone with a lisp, yet he didn’t care to search who it was. His attention concentrated on the small island they’re currently on. 

“How did you guys end up here?” Aziraphale asked no one in particular, his concern and puzzlement overtaking him momentarily. 

Stede glanced at a larger black man and gave him a look. Before the angel could speculate what it was, the man spoke.

“We’ve been left, abandoned by someone, taking our ship and sailing God knows where.” The sound of betrayal in his voice cracked for a second. “We were supposed to have a talent show, but I guess it was just a ploy to dump us here and leave us for dead.”

“Oh…” Aziraphale gave him a pitied smile. “That’s awful…. Black Pete.” 

“Oh, um—”

“Err…”

“I’m Black Pete.” Someone raised their hand. It was the bald, white man with a bit of a lisp to his speech earlier. The angel’s brows furrowed in bemusement. Some of the others were trying not to chuckle at the error of the posh man. 

“Oh…” Aziraphale whispered in realization. It took him a few moments before the whole interaction registered in his disorganized brain. 

His entire expression twisted into mortification. 

“Yeah, he’s Black Pete. My name’s Oluwande.” The previous man shyly smiled at the chagrined English man. 

“I’m so— oh dear, I’m so sorry!” Aziraphale blurted out with his face turning red in embarrassment. “I didn't mean it to — I’m quite flummoxed , so I must have confused you with your name. I'm so, so sorry, dear… ” He looked apologetically at Oluwande. His body trembled in humiliation. He wished he could disappear in a smoke and go elsewhere, far away from them. 

Oluwande shook his head and didn’t risk looking at the blond’s face, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s fine, I suppose…” He scratched his neck nervously. 

The mood in the air hung with an awkward stillness, again, and Stede knew best on what to do, as the captain of his crew. 

“I know everybody feels uncomfortable with what just happened, but we have a more serious matter we need to pay attention.” Stede’s voice rang through the small island, obviously trying to defuse the tension. “We need a plan on how we can escape this place.” 

The former captain glanced at the small dinghy and frowned. “We only have a small dinghy. It can’t fit all of us, which is a problem.” He sighed and looked at his crew. By now, they had scattered from each other and were busy hatching a plan. The pirates started to either mutter or shout suggestions at their captain, with most of them falling to bickering after someone tossed out idea that they thought was absurd. 

Aziraphale wondered how they had survived this long as pirates. 

Whilst the mortals are shouting at each other, the angel’s blue eyes landed on something on the ground. It was a white sack, with everything previously inside now vanished. Leftover crumbs of foods mixing the sand. Then he saw it—a bottle. A brown canteen bottle, looking pretty empty, as far as he could guess. 

Finally! 

It didn’t take him long to drain all the alcoholic contents from his corporeal form. Well, as much as he can get rid of, anyway. With all the wine he drank, it would be a size of an actual wine bottle and not some small water container. 

Aziraphale was too busy transferring the liquid off him to pay attention to his surroundings. Unbeknownst to him, Buttons was scrutinizing him from afar, his wide eyes unblinking. 

A bitter aftertaste lingered on his tongue. He ignored it and halted his tongue from sticking out as if it would do anything different. Though his mind still felt a bit fuzzy. 

The humans were still bickering at each other when the angel’s ears tuned in to all their shouting. Aziraphale was able to pick up their half-baked plan: two or three of them are going to sail to find the nearest town, leaving the rest of them on the island to fend for themselves until they come back with a rescue. They, of course, were against this idea, seeing that they had no food or drink left and with Buttons, joined by Roach, already considering cannibalism (Aziraphale wanted to gag after hearing it). 

Airaphale contemplated if he should help these stranded mortals. As an angel, helping humans was one of his main tasks on Earth; but on the other hand was Aziraphale’s self-prescribed morals. Pirates were known for being heartless killers, thieves, and criminals—the bad guys. Never once during his time on Earth did he want to associate himself with the likes of them. 

And yet here he is, standing here with a front-row seat of the shouting match between these half-witted, mediocre pirates. 

Stuck with these principles that he made to himself. 

He caught, in the corner of his eye, what looked like a brewing fistfight. Apparently, the idea was taken into consideration, and they were now fighting over who should join Stede to search for a nearby civilization. A lot of shouting and yelling was happening that the angel couldn’t take it any more. 

Snap! 

A loud splash alerted the crew. All their heads twisted in the direction of where the dinghy previously had been. Instead of the small boat parked near the sand, a larger ship floated in the glittering waters. It was a wooden sailboat, just big enough for their group, complete with two white sails and six oars to steer away. It was simple, and the wood used seemed sturdy enough to withstand any waves and mishaps at the sea. The cherry on top was the big sack of supplies already placed on the deck, waiting to be ransacked by the ravenous pirates. 

“Please, tell me I’m not the only one seeing this right now…” Black Pete pointed with a trembling finger towards the boat. He leaned against the tree to balance himself, too startled to move. 

Oluwande glanced at Stede, alarmed. “Stede, you brought a dinghy here, right?” 

“Yeah, I- I did—” 

“It’s his doing.” Buttons eyed Aziraphale. “He’s an occult.” 

All eyes turned to the angel. 

He might as well say it. The Button man seemed to have mostly figured it out already. And Aziraphale had been itching to correct him. He’d already let it slide once and once was enough. 

“I’m more of an ethereal creature,” The angel stated matter-of-factly. “But yes, I did it. I’ve had enough of you humans quarrelling with each other. You might as well devour each of your own until you get to decide who’s going to sail away.” When no one attempted to speak, he tacked on a quick, “no offence.”

In just the short span of meeting these pirates, he already knew how mediocre they were. It made him deliberate again and again on how they made it this far. Luck must have been on their side this whole time… 

“So you’re an angel?”

“Ha, I knew it!”

“Are you a demon?”

“A guardian angel!”

“Frenchie would shit himself…”

Voices and exclamations overlapped one another at the same time. 

“Guys!” A strong, commanding tone silenced the buzzing mouths once and for all. It was  the Gentleman Pirate. 

“So,” Oluwande began, “you’re an angel?”

Aziraphale nodded enthusiastically and grinned. “I am, indeed, an angel. A Principality, to be exact.” 

The crew members gasped and goggled at the angel. A few mutters of curses and vulgarity breathed under their breaths. Buttons, on the other hand, didn’t seem fazed in the slightest; it gave the angel an odd feeling in his tummy. He shouldn’t be surprised, honestly, the man already guessed who he was as soon he had appeared. 

“Are you sent here by God?” Stede asked cautiously. Sounding hopeful despite him being wary of him still. 

Aziraphale chuckled nervously, “Well, it’s a funny mishap…” The puzzled faces made him rethink his words. “I—er— I mean, it’s a long story…” he trailed off.

“You got lost?” Stede furrowed his brows. 

“Yes.” The angel sheepishly answered. “But, I’m here now! I might as well try to help you before I head back in on what I was actually supposed to do.” He offered an encouraging smile.

Aziraphale could see the calculating look on the Gentleman Pirate’s face, echoed by Oluwande. 

Oh, no…

“Principality Angel, Mr. Fell,” Stede began in a calm voice. “Would you mind helping us return to civilization? Help my crew?” He took a step forward. The platinum blond could still see his body shaking a bit even if as he tried to put this fearless armour on. “We would love for you to accompany us a bit longer. Though, if you wish to pop back to what you were previously doing, so be it then. I’m not here to take you away from your important angelic duties.” 

Aziraphale gave the man a sceptic look. He knew he was being manipulated by this little human man into helping their kind. He must know that piracy was mostly frowned upon, and therefore probably disliked by angels. What made the angel even more amazed was the fact that he had just attempted to guilt  an ethereal creature, playing this game of pity. He knew this thanks to Crowley, who had given him a pretty lengthy lecture that humans would try to take advantage of him since he was an angel, especially when he looked like a soft, posh man. 

When he took a fleeting glance around his surroundings, he could see the hopeful and begging faces of the dirty, starved pirates. Everybody’s eyes were on him, watching and waiting for his answer. Whether it would be a simple ‘yes or no’, or something else entirely. 

After an excruciating moment of utter silence between them, Aziraphale came to a decision. A decision he hated himself for even considering. He shouldn’t be doing this at all. It went against what he believed, and he wouldn’t hear the end of it from Gabriel if he didn’t finish his assigned task. A simple task. But still, he was torn. 

He remembered when the demon told him to be wary when making a deal, especially when signing a contract. There would be no contract in this situation, obviously, but he should still be careful nonetheless. 

“How about a deal?” Aziraphale sighed, addressing Stede. 

The pirate squinted at him, but slowly nodded his head to continue.

“I’ll join you and your crew in your journey to find a nearby town, however, as soon as I locate you a place to stay for a while, I’ll be gone.” Stede seemed deep in thought. The pirate looked to his crew, who all glanced at each other before nodding. A chorus of “yeah, sure” and “why not” was exchanged.

Stede once again directed his attention at Aziraphale. “We have a deal, Mr. Aziraphale Fell. We owe you our gratitude for helping us.” He extended his hand. Aziraphale shook it, this time with a firm grip. The crew cheered, happy to have an actual angel to protect them from any other pirates. 

“Well,” the Gentleman Pirate clapped his hands. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go! We don’t have all day.” With this signal, everybody scattered to get ready for their journey.

A few shouts of joy rang out as they boarded the sailboat. They made sure to bring their equipment for the cancelled talent show. Aziraphale followed them, head down, as he felt something in his stomach. An uncomfortable feeling. 

Maybe it’s because I’m surrounded by pirates…

He dismissed it with a shake of his head and stepped onto the boat. The members were already positioned at their respective positions as they prepared to row. He took a seat in the back, behind a huge, broad-shouldered man and someone with shoulder-length pale blond hair.

“Captain! We’re ready.” Oluwande yelled to Stede, who was still on the island, holding his empty sack and bottle. He was gazing towards the sea. Aziraphale could sense there was something on his mind. A longing expression took over his features as he unintelligibly muttered something in his breath. Then a mask hid the expression that had just occurred, replacing it with a determined face. Just like that, he jogged towards the sailboat, and took a seat beside the angel, with Buttons in the front as he lead them to nearby safety. 

Stede turned to Aziraphale and grinned at him. “Thank you.” He whispered.

The angel only nodded and gave him a tight-lipped smile back. 

He still wasn’t sure about how he feel about this whole endeavour. One second, he disliked pirates, now he was helping them. He tried to convince himself that after this, he wouldn’t come back and check on them, and he would never do this again. This was enough. If the Upstairs found out about this...he doesn’t want to think about it.  He’d probably get a talking to by Gabriel, asking him why he helped pirates, of all people. Or worse, he would get reprimanded, and he wouldn’t be able to use his powers for a while. It hadn’t happened to him, yet, and he certainly wanted to keep it that way. 

He should be thwarting evil and what sprouts from them! Not rescuing them. Crowley would laugh himself silly when heard the story, once they got to Barbados.

Oh, and this feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wonders where the demon is by now. He should send him a letter; inform him that the plans would be changing. This journey would take days, and Crowley might reach Barbados before him. 

But whatever this uneasy feeling was, it made him more tempted to check on the demon. He hoped that he wasn’t in any danger. Crowley would obviously get into trouble, that’s what he does, but still. He had become fond of the demon, even though he hated to admit it. 

The boat started to rock and the slap of the paddles told Aziraphale that they’re moving, with Buttons guiding them forward.

He swore to find a way to make this trip shorter. Even if it meant performing another miracle to speed this transportation up.