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“Where are you taking me, angel?” Crowley asked, not for the first time, as the Bentley cruised further and further from London on the darkening and mostly empty roads.
His curiosity was driving him nuts, and Aziraphale was being a cagey bastard about their plans for the evening. The angel had only said that Crowley must trust him and that he’d definitely enjoy what he had planned, whatever the Heaven that was. Not that he minded, really. If Aziraphale said he’d have fun with whatever was planned, he would, of course, and it would hardly be the first time that one surprised the other with some planned activity or adventure. But his curiosity nagged as he let Aziraphale direct him to drive outside of London, heading towards Sussex.
It was getting late, too late for dinner or a museum, and definitely too late for a stroll around Wakehurst or any other park or garden. And no one drove the A23 for the scenery, especially in the dark, so that obviously wasn’t it, either. For once, Aziraphale wasn’t complaining about Crowley’s driving, actually seemed pleased with the speed they were making. The angel had been acting strange for days now, smiling to himself, humming to himself even more than usual, and even using the shop computer to access the internet, although Crowley wasn’t allowed to see what he’d been looking at. The beautiful bastard was obviously planning a surprise, and despite days of wracking his brain, Crowley couldn’t figure out what. Which was exciting, but also a little infuriating.
There was plenty to do in the South, of course, but no real night-life to speak of. Most of the best the area had to offer was geared towards being enjoyed during daylight hours: gorgeous landscapes; beautiful, quaint villages; museums and guided tours. There just wasn’t anything to do at night except relax in a hotel and reflect on what a good idea it had been to vacation in the south of England instead of anywhere more expensive and crowded. Brighton had some good nightclubs, granted, but that was hardly Aziraphale’s speed. So what was his angel playing at? Were they going to make a weekend of it, or a full week? An impromptu vacation just because? They’d already established that those were good for the mental health of both, so maybe that was Aziraphale’s plan. There were certainly worse places than the South of England to spend a short summer vacation.
“You’ll be exiting just up ahead,” Aziraphale told him as they drove, gesturing towards a road sign as they whizzed past.
Crowley blinked at that pronouncement, looking around and trying to get his bearings. It would have been easier if Aziraphale had let him use a satnav. “So… not Brighton?”
“No, my love, not Brighton,” he answered happily, smiling and shaking his head.
“There’s no other city half worth visiting for miles around,” Crowley protested, freshly confused.
“Who says we’re visiting a city?” came the response, accompanied by a sweet smile.
“Where are you taking me, you bastard?” he asked, grinning as he took the exit Aziraphale had indicated. They weren’t exactly in the middle of nowhere, but they were in an area about as rural as one could get in East Sussex. One of those touristy manor hotels, maybe, with gardens that took a full week to explore properly?
“You’ll find out soon, love,” Aziraphale assured him in a soothing tone. “You’ve been very patient.”
“Have not.” The answer was automatic. He couldn’t just let Aziraphale accuse him of a virtue without challenging it, after all. But he could have, and once would have, given the angel a lot more trouble about this whole silly lark. Now it was just fun and a puzzle, with an added layer of warmth at the idea that his angel had planned a surprise for him.
“No, sorry, of course you’ve not been patient,” Aziraphale agreed placidly. “We’ll call it… forbearing, shall we?”
“That’s worse and you know it,” he laughed, blinking as they passed one of those road signs that existed for the sole benefit of tourists who weren’t lost but suspected they might be. “Are you taking me to a castle?” he asked, wetting his lips and wondering if Sir Aziraphale of the Table Round was finally going to take the Black Knight to task for all that naughtiness back in the day.
That, please and thank you!
“No, although that is a thought,” Aziraphale answered, pursing his lips for a moment, then smiling. “Soon.”
And that was that. Moderately kinky role-play proposed and agreed to in a few sentences. Things had changed fast, and Crowley loved that fact. But Aziraphale’s answer only served to pique his curiosity about what the wonderful bastard actually had planned.
“Are you trying to drive me mad with anticipation, angel?”
“No, just to give you a pleasant surprise. And don’t worry. We’re almost there. Just another couple minutes.”
“But we’re in the middle of nowhere,” Crowley protested.
“Yes, which is exactly the point. Turn here.”
He did as directed, frowning in confusion. The road led them to a cliff by the sea, on a lookout so small that the car park was unlit and unpaved. By day, the view would have been stunning. By night, the water was just… dark against more darkness. This couldn’t be their destination?
“Ah, here we are. Perfect. Park here,” Aziraphale directed, giving a little wiggle of delight.
“As you wish,” he answered, shrugging and doing so, peering into the darkness and trying to divine some clue about what in the bloody Heaven they were doing here.
Aziraphale slid out of the Bentley the moment it was still, hurrying around and opening Crowley’s door. Chuckling, though still confused, Crowley took the hand the angel offered and slid out of the car. Now that the engine and radio were quiet, he could hear the surf and the call of a distant owl. That was all. Water washing over the rocks, a bird warning off the competition, and their own breathing. He’d almost forgotten that the world could be so still and, for just a moment, it was as unnerving as it was beautiful. But his unease passed quickly. It was beautiful, peaceful in a way Crowley had missed without realizing it. Chest tight, he squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, giving his angel a questioning look in the darkness.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Aziraphale asked, voice a near whisper.
“Yeah,” Crowley agreed, unwilling to raise his own voice any higher. It seemed almost irreverent to break the silence with a normal conversational volume. “It’s gorgeous. But why are we here, angel?”
“Look up,” he suggested, smiling warmly.
He did as directed and his breath caught in his throat. He’d forgotten that, too, how vivid and how close the stars could seem, like he could have reached up and caught one in his hand, a gift for his angel. You didn’t get skies like this in London, hadn’t for thousands of years. Even when it had been nothing but a ring of mud huts on the riverbank, London had never witnessed a starscape like this one. Even when the light hadn’t prevented a clear view, the mist and fog rising from the river had. He’d spent so much time in London that he hadn’t really remembered what the sky could really look like, how blessed crowded it was. How? How had he let himself forget that beautiful chaos?
“Angel,” Crowley whispered, not able to tear his eyes away from the familiar-unfamiliar sky.
He hadn’t lost the knack, and he was already picking out the projects he’d worked on out there, remembering the circumstances around their creation. Alpha Centauri wasn’t visible this far north, but he could make out other stars and clusters of stars, and one or two planets from his portfolio. And, in that blank spot to the west, if light traveled faster and his eyes were sharper, he might have been able to pick out the nebula Aziraphale had shaped for him last fall. Not that the angel probably realized that specifically, but he didn’t have to. It was still a beautiful, touching gesture, bringing Crowley down here to again share the sky with him again.
“I brought a blanket to sit on,” Aziraphale whispered after a few minutes of silence, squeezing his hand again but clearly not trying to draw his attention away from the sky. “And a little telescope, although it doesn’t seem we’ll actually need it. I’d forgotten how distinct the night sky could look, away from any large settlement.”
That got Crowley’s attention, and he turned his eyes back on the angel. “Where’d you get a telescope?”
“I bought it two days ago,” he answered simply, shrugging. “Once I learned which ones were best for amateur stargazers.”
“Is that what you were researching online?” he asked, grinning. Mystery solved.
“That, and the best stargazing spots, of course. We’re a bit early for the Perseids, I’m afraid, but we can come back for them if you want, weather allowing.” Smiling smugly, he added, “And I’ll make sure that the weather allows.”
Crowley couldn’t stop himself from pulling his angel into a tight hug, clinging just a bit. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, darling,” he answered with a smile in his voice, wrapping his strong arms around Crowley and gently rubbing his back.
They stood in silence for a little while, just holding each other close under the stars. The night air was cool, but not unpleasantly so, and even if it had been cooler, it was impossible not to feel warm in Aziraphale’s embrace. The stars were beautiful, more beautiful when shared with his best friend and the love of his immortal life. Maybe more beautiful because Aziraphale wanted to share all this with him. Sighing happily, he gave the angel a little squeeze and finally drew back.
“You said you brought a blanket?”
“Yes. Well, two actually, in case it got chilly. And some pillows and a little picnic if we wanted them,” he answered, smiling up at Crowley.
Mad, beautiful, well-prepared angel. As if they couldn’t miracle up anything they ended up wanting. Not that Crowley minded, of course. He loved everything about his angel, even his ridiculous fussiness. Especially that, actually. Most people would have gone stargazing on a whim, not spent half a week researching the best locations and buying a telescope that was no doubt top-of-the-line. He kissed Aziraphale tenderly, sighing happily.
“I love you,” Crowley repeated as he drew back. “Now, let’s find a nice place to settle down?” he suggested, peering into the back seat of the car and wondering how he’d missed the picnic hamper, blanket, and telescope bag sitting there before. Sneaky angel.
Aziraphale leaned around him, retrieving the blanket. “I think we can leave the hamper and telescope for now?”
Crowley nodded in agreement, eyes scanning the area. “Yeah, I think so. Let’s just enjoy the view for a bit without them?”
“Sounds lovely,” he agreed, looking around himself and then heading towards a grassy patch not far from the edge of the cliff.
Crowley followed, taking a moment to enjoy the view of his angel silhouetted against the night sky before following. “Should we put up wards?” he asked as he helped Aziraphale spread the blanket over the ground.
“Are we planning on doing anything that we don’t want being observed?” the angel countered, smirking at him.
Crowley felt himself color, unable to keep himself from imagining what it would be like to make love under those beautiful stars. He’d always felt a little weird about sex outdoors, aware that, even when they weren’t actively watching, both Heaven’s and Hell’s Earth Observation Corps were probably still recording. Aziraphale’s wards could prevent that, of course, but Crowley had never been in that league when it came to not being detected. Still, he didn’t get the impression that the angel had brought him out here for any kind of hanky-panky, and that was more than all right with him. Sex with Aziraphale was always great, but it wasn’t all there was to their relationship, either, not by any stretch. It always felt wonderful to just sit and talk, to be close and to touch each other casually, without urgency or expectation.
Smiling, Crowley settled down on the blanket, extending his arms. “Come here, angel.”
Aziraphale gave a little wiggle, then settled down on the blanket next to Crowley, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as Crowley wrapped one around his waist. After a moment’s comfortable silence, the angel whispered, “I thought we might start stargazing together fairly regularly? You can point out the ones you made.”
He smiled at that, resting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder and wondering if the angel realized that his time shaping the cosmos marked some of the only truly happy memories he had of his time in Heaven. The Starsmiths had been a tight-knit group and gotten on well. They needed to be close, doing the job they’d done. If you were about to smash two planets together, or fire up a massive fusion reactor, or lay down a heavy surface-coat of dark energy across several million miles, you’d blessed well better know you could rely on the rest of your crew. And, despite what had come later, and how many of the Starsmiths had changed beyond all recognition after the Rebellion, the memories of that time were mostly good ones. And it was very sweet of Aziraphale to want to help Crowley remember them in a safe, accepting context.
“I love you, angel. Have I mentioned that lately?”
“Once or twice, my love,” he answered, chuckling and kissing Crowley’s hair. Voice a little hesitant, he asked, “Is this a good thing? I mean, the stargazing and such? Everything… around that?”
“It’s wonderful, Aziraphale. It really is.”
“Will you show me some of your work?” he asked gently.
Crowley hesitated for a moment, scanning the sky with his eyes and trying to pick out a good one to start with. “Okay, you see Cygnus? It’s a constellation.”
“Mmm, that’s that one up there that doesn’t look at all like a swan, right?”
“Someone’s been studying,” Crowley noted, smiling and kissing his shoulder. “All right, and see Deneb? Just there in Cygnus?”
“Yes. It’s very bright, isn’t it? Was that one of yours?”
“No. It’s a pole star, so it had to be perfect. Lucy did the honors himself. But if you look just a few degrees to the left and let your eyes go unfocused, you should see a little pink dot.”
Aziraphale was silent for a long moment, then smiled and nodded. “Yes, I see it now. So dim-looking. It must be very far away?”
“Oh, yeah. Pretty sure it’s not actually visible to a human’s naked eye. Good job ours are better, isn’t it?” he asked, grinning.
Aziraphale made a soft noise of agreement, smiling curiously at him. “It’s special to you?”
“First star I ever did on my own. Before that, I’d mostly been doing nebulae and stuff. Was a big deal, being allowed to work solo on a star. And that beauty? She could support life someday. Might do already.”
Aziraphale’s eyes widened at that assertion. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he answered, grinning. “Not one but two wet, rocky worlds smack dab in the goldilocks zone.”
Aziraphale smiled, too, then bit his lip. “Crowley? Were you supposed to put planets there?”
Crowley threw back his head and laughed at that. “You know me too well, angel.”
“Naughty thing,” he tsked, grinning at Crowley.
“Your naughty thing,” he agreed, sighing happily. “And it’s not like I wasn’t supposed to put them there, either. It’s so far from here that no one really cared where the planets went, so long as their orbit was stable. But red dwarves have staying power. A lot can happen over the lifetime of one. Felt like a shame to waste all that potential, you know?”
Aziraphale smiled and nodded faintly, murmuring, “That’s very you. Giving a fighting chance to generations that don’t even exist yet.”
He colored a little, not sure how to respond to that, but unable to keep from grinning at the praise. “Thankss.”
“We should visit it one day,” Aziraphale noted quietly. “See how your planets are coming along.”
He smiled at that, snuggling closer. “Some day, yeah. That would be nice.”
“It would be, yes.” After a moment’s comfortable silence, he asked, “You’re not too chilly, are you, dear?”
“No, I’m good. Still pretty warm out here. It’s nice.”
“Good,” Aziraphale answered, giving him a gentle squeeze and urging Crowley to lean against his soft body. “Any other fun stories you feel like telling me tonight? About your time crafting the skies?”
“Depends on whether you want to hear about the time I accidentally made a black hole,” he laughed, grinning and shaking his head.
Aziraphale choked a little at that, drawing back just enough to stare at Crowley. “How does one accidentally create a black hole?” he demanded, gaping.
“Oh, it takes real talent, angel,” he joked, with far more bravado than he’d managed to muster when he’d been called before Lucifer to explain what the Heaven had happened.
“Talent?” Aziraphale repeated, looking incredulous.
“At this point, I should probably mention that it wasn’t actually my mistake that caused it. I was going off bad survey data when I tried to build that star where I did and…” He hesitated, biting his lip. “Remember your friend Yeshua’s story about the asshole who built his house on the sand?”
Aziraphale blinked, tilting his head. “You… built a star on a foundation of sand?”
“Well, not literal sand, but spacetime was stretched thinner than the survey data suggested, so…” He shrugged. “Black hole.”
“Goodness! Was anyone hurt?” Aziraphale whispered, eyes wide.
“No, fortunately. But the whole fiasco led to the entire Creation Project being put on hold for a couple years.”
“I remember hearing about that. That was you?”
“No, that was whatever idiot came up with that half-arsed surveying technique in the first place. We had to wait on the development of an actually accurate method, or someone probably would have been hurt the next time it happened.”
He cringed, expression sympathetic and more than a little uneasy. “Well, I’m glad no one was badly injured. And, really, what’s a few years, more or less?”
Crowley didn’t point out that those few years of inactivity had, in all likelihood, given certain angels time to start asking questions and discussing their own discontent among each other. It would have happened eventually, even if a big chunk of Heaven’s workforce hadn’t had too much time on their hands for several years. It might have taken a few extra centuries, but it had been bound to happen at some point. If it hadn’t been the Starsmiths, it would have been EarthObs or I.D. The simple truth was that Heaven hadn’t been built on the strongest of foundations, either. Eventually, cracks would have shown up somewhere.
“Are you all right, love?” Aziraphale whispered, probably sensing Crowley’s changed mood, or maybe worried by his silence.
“Yeah, angel. Just… thinking about old times. But it’s not bad like it sometimes is. I’m fine,” he assured Aziraphale, kissing his cheek.
“Good. I’d hate to think my stargazing idea stirred up any bad memories for you.”
“Not bad, angel. Bittersweet, but not bad. And, like I said, those were some good times. I had some real friends, and a lot of former angels can’t say the same.”
“No. I think very few of our people can boast of having many real friends, no matter what side they’re on.”
“One more reason Our Side is objectively the best side,” Crowley chuckled, kissing Aziraphale’s cheek and giving him a squeeze. “Comes with a built-in best friend.”
“It does,” he agreed quietly, smiling and nuzzling Crowley’s face. “Has for a long time. You were always there for me, my love, even when I couldn’t be there for myself.”
Crowley experienced a slight pang at those words. He’d been through a lot in the course of his own existence, but so had Aziraphale. And, unlike Crowley, Aziraphale hadn’t even been allowed to be angry over most of it. He’d been forced to watch so many people he cared about suffering, knowing full well that he had the power to help, but not being allowed to. Worst of all, he’d been expected to treat it all as if it were a good thing, to accept all those personal tragedies as just necessary bits and pieces of a Great Plan he wasn’t privy to. Crowley had seen Aziraphale fighting down tears more times over the years than he cared to think about and had always done his best to cheer him up. Sometimes, all he’d been able to do was to state what Aziraphale couldn’t, to protest that a situation was profoundly fucked up, but even that small thing had seemed comforting to Aziraphale.
That was where it had truly begun between them, with Crowley saying what Aziraphale wished he could. It hadn’t taken long for the relationship to deepen beyond that, first into friendship and then into love, but Crowley had never lost the habit of trying to soothe and pacify his angel. Not that Aziraphale needed that as much these days, thankfully. Aziraphale was still troubled by the past, as Crowley was, but it was becoming less frequent, and less of a source of pain. They were, finally, both starting to heal. There would always be scars, but the original wounds had started to lose their raw oversensitivity and, as it were, scab over. As hard as it would have been to believe this time last year, they were going to be okay. They were in a good place and would probably continue to be.
“I love you, angel,” Crowley whispered, stealing a kiss.
It was a gentle, uninsistent kiss, and he could feel Aziraphale smiling against his lips during it. When they finally drew away from each other, Aziraphale nuzzled Crowley’s face again, cupping his cheek in one hand. He sighed happily, closing his eyes and leaning into that soothing touch. Not for the first time, he wondered how he’d ever managed to stay sane without his angel’s open, generous affection. He was glad he had, though, because moments like these were so worth the wait.
Feeling warm, and as if he finally belonged somewhere, Crowley spent a little while just enjoying Aziraphale’s tender, loving touch. The angel didn’t try to rush the moment at all, and knowing him, he was enjoying it as much as Crowley. It was Aziraphale, after all, who adored sharing affectionate moments and initiated them whenever he could. The angel thrived on giving and receiving love the same way that humans thrived on food and clean air. Now that he actually received love on a regular basis himself, Crowley was starting to thrive on it just as much as Aziraphale did. When he finally opened his eyes, it was to see Aziraphale watching him with a loving smile.
“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered, “I’ve been wanting to say… that is, I’m sure you know, but it felt worth saying out loud regardless. I don’t know where I’d be today if you hadn’t climbed that wall in Eden when you did. I’m so glad we found each other, love.”
“So am I, angel.”
He smiled at that and murmured, “I’m looking forward to spending the rest of eternity with you.”
It wasn’t something Crowley had expected to hear him say out loud, not when it was so self-evident, but he was glad that Aziraphale had. “Me, too, angel. We’ve earned it.”
“We have.” Aziraphale smiled, nodding faintly. “And, since we went so long without, we’ll be sure to always properly enjoy our time together.”
“Don’t see how we could fail to, really,” Crowley agreed, nodding. Aziraphale didn’t seem to need any actual reassurance on the point, but Crowley was happy to offer it all the same. “Might have to find a new place to enjoy it from, once the sun swallows this planet, but we’ll manage.”
Aziraphale snorted at that, giving him a fond, tolerant smile. “It helps that we’ll have at least a little while to plan for that eventuality.” Smiling more widely, he suggested, “Maybe we can emigrate to your red dwarf once this solar system starts winding down?”
It was meant as a joke, probably, but Crowley couldn’t help but feel a warm glow (though not the literal kind) at the idea of them still being together billions of years from now. Not that it was a surprise, but it felt so good to hear Aziraphale talk about it like it was the only possible outcome. He could have torn off his shirt, sprouted wings, and done a few loop-de-loops over the ocean. But that might have alarmed Aziraphale, and it certainly would have ruined the sweet, quiet mood of the moment, so he resisted the urge, while still making a note to go flying with his angel again soon.
“We could move there, yeah. Might even have some human neighbors there by then,” Crowley joked, instead of letting his warm giddiness overwhelm him.
“Neighbors are charming to have, but I could learn to live without them, so long as we still had each other.”
“And you call me a flatterer?” he teased, smiling warmly at Aziraphale.
“Mmm, not a flatterer, just… a sentimental tit,” Aziraphale answered, smiling sweetly. “Your sentimental tit.”
“My sentimental tit,” he agreed, laughing and nuzzling the angel’s face. “My beautiful, sexy, sentimental, tit-ish bastard angel.”
“Piling on the adjectives rather heavily there, aren’t we, love?” he laughed, grinning at Crowley.
“You deserve all the adjectives, angel.”
“All of them?” he challenged, grinning.
“Well, all the good ones.”
“Ah, all right. As long as it’s just the good ones.” Smirking, Aziraphale leaned over and kissed Crowley gently, then whispered against his lips, “ I suppose you’re allowed to use the good ones to describe me.”
Crowley smiled at that, making a happy noise. “Good. Can’t imagine ever wanting to use any other kinds of words to describe you.”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll both have our moments every few centuries, but they’ll only be that. Just moments.”
Crowley made a soft noise of agreement, not bothering to argue. They were both stubborn and opinionated, after all, and would probably never get out of the habit of bickering with each other, debating in a mostly playful fashion just for the mental exercise and fun of it all. Life would be boring, and not particularly healthy, if people weren’t allowed to disagree with each other and still be friends afterwards. He and Aziraphale had sometimes spent decades, on and off, debating points on which they differed wildly, and either met in the middle or just agreed to disagree. It hadn’t hurt their friendship in the least, had probably even strengthened it, and not just because it had given them an excuse to spend time together. All those debates, all the emotional honesty they had entailed, had been what first helped them get to know each other as individuals. And to do it centuries before they might have otherwise.
They would have become friends eventually, of course, either way. Crowley had always been drawn to Aziraphale and Aziraphale had always been fascinated by Crowley. Between that and the fact that they’d both spent a lot of time in the same regions helping to shape history, they’d been thrown together a lot. If it hadn’t been deep philosophical conversations, they still would have shared drinks and food and sympathized with each other over the incompetence of their respective superiors and their shared love of humanity. Aziraphale had always seemed to think that the two of them were, quite literally, meant to be, and there were times when Crowley had a hard time disbelieving it. Not that he gave any credence to the idea that the Almighty had intended them to end up together, but from the moment they’d been put on permanent assignment to Earth, they’d had more in common with each other than with anyone else in the universe. At that point it had been natural, and perhaps inevitable, that their friendship would grow into something much deeper.
“Penny for your thoughts, love?” Aziraphale murmured, kissing his cheek.
“Nyeh, just… We belong together. Always have,” he answered, shrugging. “But you already knew that.”
“We do belong together,” the angel agreed. “And isn’t it wonderful that no one will ever be able to keep us apart again?”
“Wonderful, angel.” Smiling, Crowley leaned over, kissing him gently.
“I love you,” Aziraphale whispered against his lips as the kiss ended, smiling. They held each other close for a few minutes, then the angel whispered, “You know, I’ve been thinking.”
“Dangerous habit, that.”
Aziraphale tutted at him, then chuckled and murmured a fond-sounding, “Fiend.”
“Maybe, but you knew that going in. Too late to complain now.”
“I suppose it is,” he agreed complacently. “But regardless, I was hoping to ask a favor?”
“Anything, angel. You know that.” Smiling curiously, he asked, “What did you have in mind?”
“I was hoping you’d be able to go clothes shopping with me soon?”
Crowley blinked at that, and not just because it wasn’t a big ask. “Clothes shopping?”
“Yes, if you wouldn’t mind. One of those overpriced boutiques you favor, perhaps,” he answered, nodding.
Crowley nodded, too, but frowned in surprise. “But I thought you liked my shamelessly tight trousers?”
“Oh, I do! Very much,” Aziraphale assured him. “I mean, they look absolutely lovely on you, and draw attention right where I’m sure you want it. I’m not proposing you start dressing more modestly, my love. Not at all.” Aziraphale shook his head, cleared his throat, and blushed, then started fidgeting a bit.
“No? What then?” he asked gently, since they seemed to be approaching nervous angel territory. Which wasn’t something that still happened much these days. “What’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours, huh?”
“I… well, if you must know,” he answered, as if he hadn’t been the one to bring up the topic in the first place, “I was thinking it might be time to… update my look a bit.”
Crowley blinked, and it took him a few moments to recover. He’d gotten so used to the angel’s centuries-old suits that the idea of him in anything else was jarring. Not unpleasant or uncomfortable, just surprising.
“I mean, it’s no big deal,” Aziraphale plowed on when Crowley didn’t immediately answer. “I was just thinking… I’m past due for a change, and a second set of eyes sometimes helps when picking a new wardrobe. But, if you’d rather not, I’m sure the shop assistants can help me.”
“Angel, last time you let a shop assistant pick an outfit for you, you came home in plaid flannel. Let’s not invite a repeat?”
Aziraphale blushed, then laughed and poked him gently in the ribs. “I thought we’d agreed to pretend that it was a rather unique tartan?”
He smirked in answer. “Can’t officially be tartan without being registered, angel. You were wearing plaid.”
Aziraphale didn’t answer that. “Flannel is cozy on a chilly day,” he pointed out instead, as if that negated any part of Crowley’s statement.
“If you say so, angel,” he chuckled.
“I do.”
“Well, that’s that, then.”
Aziraphale nodded, then bit his lip. “You don’t mind, do you? Coming along to help me find some new things to wear?”
“I don’t mind,” Crowley assured him, taking a moment to think before continuing, “but wouldn’t you rather try to find a style that works for you?”
Aziraphale stared blankly for a moment, then smiled and shook his head. “Crowley, love, I hadn’t planned to dress purely to suit your tastes. I intend to consult my own and certainly won’t be buying anything I’m not comfortable with or don’t like. But you have an excellent eye for style, and you know all the best stores.”
He relaxed and smiled, nodding. “Well, in that case, I’ll be happy to bring you shopping soon, angel.”
“Thank you so much, my dear,” he answered, smiling and admitting, “I may need a bit of moral support as well.”
“You know, I’ve heard a lot of humans feel that way about shopping for clothes, too,” Crowley laughed, snuggling close. “But don’t worry. You’ll look gorgeous in modern styles. We’ll get you some nice suits, and I’ll bet you’d absolutely rock the ‘hot university professor’ look.”
Aziraphale frowned at that, then slowly smiled. “Some of my regulars seem to think I already do.”
Crowley cackled at that, nudging Aziraphale gently in the ribs with his elbow. “Go get ‘em, tiger!”
“No, I’d rather not,” he answered, chuckling. “They can be… ‘gotten’ by someone else. I’ve already found the person of my dreams.”
“And here I seem to recall you telling a young woman just the other day that consensual non-monogamy was perfectly healthy and natural.”
“I said ‘for some people,’ Crowley. She and her partner are simply hardwired for polyfidelity, and they will thrive in a nice group marriage. I wish them all the luck and happiness in the world, but I’m not like them. I was wired for permanent pair-bonding.”
“You and me both, angel,” Crowley admitted. “It’s easy to get too close, no matter how much you promise yourself you won’t.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you having loved your human partners, or with still loving them,” Aziraphale told him gently, wrapping an arm around his shoulders again and giving him a gentle squeeze. “It’s a credit to you that you did truly care about them. Not that there’s anything wrong with one night stands and the like, as long as everyone’s open about things, but you and I are just too good at getting attached.”
“I noticed,” Crowley answered ruefully, resting his head on his angel’s shoulder. “Not that it matters now that we have each other.”
“Of course it matters. It was good for you to have lovers before we could be together and, even now that we love each other, we’ll still find plenty of other people to love, just in different ways now.”
There’d been a time when Crowley wouldn’t have willingly admitted to ever actually loving anyone. He didn’t bother now. Aziraphale knew him too well and, where everyone else in the universe was concerned, Crowley enjoyed being in love with Aziraphale far too much to even consider denying that fact. Most of the time, he felt like shouting it from the rooftops, but there were times when just whispering it was enough. Times like now.
“I love you, angel.”
“Me, too, Crowley. Always.”
“I like that. Always has a nice ring to it.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Aziraphale agreed quietly, kissing his hair. “So much more permanent than the kind of vows humans make, don’t you think?”
Good question, that. Or, at least from his tone of voice, a question Aziraphale considered important. So, instead of snarking at all, Crowley considered for a moment and told him, “‘Til death do us part’ takes on a different kind of connotation for a pair of immortals than it does for a pair of humans. I can’t imagine only being allowed six or seven decades with you. I don’t even want to try to.”
“Oh, I agree entirely,” Aziraphale answered, nodding. After a moment’s silence, he continued quietly, “A few of my regulars have asked when I intend to formalize things with you, and most seem surprised that I see no reason to.”
Most men probably wouldn’t have taken it well, hearing the love of their life didn’t want to make things official, but Crowley knew better. “A legal contract between a pair of aliases and a ceremony officiated by some clergyman who only thinks he knows how the universe actually works. I can see why that wouldn’t appeal,” he told his angel, and he meant it.
“I mean, having a ketubah to hang on the wall might be nice. I’ve seen some very beautiful ones, and there are some very talented artists. But as to the rest…” Aziraphale cleared his throat, shrugging. “Remember when a marriage was considered valid the moment two people said ‘I intend to spend the rest of my life with you?’ Didn’t even need witnesses.”
“Simpler times. And lots of girls getting taken advantage of, as I recall.”
“Yes, I remember. A young person should at least have a few witnesses to something that monumental.”
Crowley nodded, then smiled at his angel, “Well, since we’re not young, you can probably take me at my word when I say that I intend to spend the rest of my life with you. And, if at all possible, longer.”
“I can’t imagine spending eternity with anyone else, my love. I want to always be at your side.”
“Then I guess it’s official,” Crowley told him, laughing and shrugging. “That was easy.”
“Easy?” he laughed. “Someone is not fully remembering the last six-thousand years!”
“Those? Just think of them as a really interesting stag night that ended in a couple arrests.”
“You’re terrible!” Aziraphale ‘protested’ between giggles.
“And you love me for it.”
“In spite of it, maybe.”
Voice sing-song, Crowley countered, “Angel loves his sneky-snek…”
“For reasons which frequently elude me, yes, I do, you ridiculous serpent,” Aziraphale assured him, grinning.
“Mmm, your ridiculous serpent,” Crowley answered, twisting around a little and then flopping onto his back, head landing comfortably in Aziraphale’s soft lap. Smiling up at him, Crowley took one of his hands, kissing it gently. “Sweet, pretty angel.”
“I love you,” Aziraphale answered, letting his hand be kissed and then caressing Crowley’s cheek. “And there’s something I think I’d like to give you. I’d been saving it until October, but I think tonight has become perfectly appropriate.”
“October? Why October?” he asked, smiling curiously up at his angel.
“Well, that was when it all began, wasn’t it? I couldn’t quite tell you the date we met, but it must have been around October.”
“Because that’s the Earth’s birthday.” Crowley grinned at that, touched. “An anniversary present?”
“Well, not exactly, but close to one. Just a little remembrance, really.”
“I can wait for it, if you want. Ot, if you’d rather give it to me now, that’s fine, too, angel. I don’t have anything to give you in return, but–” he began.
“You’ve given me everything, Crowley,” Aziraphale interrupted, touching a finger to his lips to stop him. “And I think, after all these years, one of us can give a gift to the other without expecting a gift in return. That’s how relationships work. Small gestures, just because. The way you’ve been doing for thousands of years.”
“I guess it is,” he conceded, smiling. “So, what did you get me? Something sexy to wear to bed?” he teased.
“Sexier than that tatty old Queen t-shirt you love so much?” Aziraphale countered, grinning at him. “I’m not sure that’s possible, dear.”
Crowley let out a bark of laughter at that, then poked his angel in the ribs. “Bastard.”
Aziraphale chuckled, smiling warmly. “A bit, but I actually am very fond of that shirt.”
“What? Why?” Crowley laughed, staring.
“It’s just so casual and… down-to-earth. It’s the kind of thing you’d never wear in front of anyone but me. I like that, that you’re that comfortable around me.”
There was a time, not so terribly long ago, when Crowley would have deflected a comment like that with sarcasm, but it was long past. Instead, he smiled, kissing Aziraphale’s hand again. “Of course I’m comfortable around you, angel. Have been ever since you sheltered me from the first storm.”
Even in the dim light, Crowley could see Aziraphale blushing, but his smile was warm and unabashed as he whispered, “I’m so glad you decided to climb the Eastern Wall that day.”
There was probably an unspoken ‘and not one of the other three’ in there, but acknowledging it would have turned the tender moment into something else entirely, so Crowley settled for an honest, “Me, too, angel. I was happy about it that day, and I have been pretty much every day since.”
“It’s funny, but I was actually thinking about that day when I had these made,” Aziraphale told him, reaching into his pocket.
Crowley sat up at that, startled. He’d assumed that whatever gift Aziraphale wanted to give him had been something the angel had seen in a store, something that had reminded him of Crowley. He hadn’t expected a gift that had been premeditated and specially commissioned.
“Angel, what did you get me?” he whispered.
“I know a metalsmith. They’re a very talented young person and, after seeing some of their work, I… well.”
Aziraphale shrugged, opening the little box he’d taken from his pocket and offering it to Crowley to examine. Crowley’s breath hitched in his throat as he studied the pair of rings nestled inside the little container. How long had humans and vows and all the rest been on Aziraphale’s mind? Oh, but trust his angel! The rings were gorgeous, and almost painfully appropriate. Each was made up of two overlapping, wing-shaped pieces, and one of the wings was silvery while the other was black. In the smaller of the two rings, the silver wing rested lightly on top of the darker and, in the other, obviously sized for Aziraphale’s larger fingers, the dark wing rested on top of the light one.
“Angel,” he whispered, holding the ring box to his chest and blinking hard to dispel the tears forming there. “You had these made for us?”
“Yes, months ago, but they’ve only been finished for a few days.” Biting his lip, he asked, “Do you like them? You don’t have to wear yours all the time, of course, or even at all. I just thought–”
“Of course I’ll wear it all the time, Aziraphale,” Crowley interrupted, shaking his head. He set the box down between them, carefully extracting the larger one and reaching for Aziraphale’s hand. “They’re beautiful,” he whispered, sliding it onto Aziraphale’s ring-finger. “Oh, that’s perfect, angel…”
Aziraphale lifted his hand, admiring the ring with a smile. “They came out so nicely, didn’t they?” he asked, reaching for the other ring, and then for Crowley’s hand.
“You were right; your friend has talent,” Crowley whispered, coloring as Aziraphale kissed his hand. “This was a good thought.”
It was true that human wedding traditions were, for the most part, not really for them, but there was also a reason why rings in general, and wedding rings in particular, had been around almost as long as the Earth itself had. Longer, really, if one counted Aziraphale’s ever-present signet ring. Crowley could still remember Aziraphale in Egypt, going on happily about how the locals had started wearing rings and other jewelry.
I’ve never seen a culture with so little use for clothes with such a love of self-adornment, he’d told Crowley. Anyone who can afford it has a signet ring, and even the very poor make them out of reeds and bone. They say the shape symbolizes eternity. Isn’t that a lovely thought?
He’d gone on at length after that, about the wonderful cleverness of the humans, all the shapes and colors they’d invented, so that a piece of jewelry could tell an entire complicated story, sometimes as clearly as this newfangled writing lark. Until then, Crowley had considered the local jewelry to be rather gaudy, but seen through Aziraphale’s eyes, even a massive gem-studded pectoral could be appreciated on a level beyond ‘ooh, shiny.’ The angel had always had that knack, the ability to appreciate little human contrivances that others took for granted or didn’t see the sense of.
Look at how cleverly they make up for their inability to do miracles, he’d said again and again in the early days. They really are going to be okay, Crawly.
That was Aziraphale all over, too, his almost childlike delight in things that he knew made others happy. There’d been a time when it had been more bemusing than endearing, but it hadn’t taken Crowley long to fall in love with that along with every other aspect of Aziraphale’s personality. His unbridled enthusiasm even made his painful attempts to perform magic tricks more bearable. Marginally. Love hadn’t softened Crowley quite enough to make them actually enjoyable. Yet.
But Crowley did have to admit that, even if a lot of human customs weren’t really them, there was something intimate and appropriate about sliding matching rings on each other’s fingers. His breath hitched as Aziraphale slipped the ring into place, and he had to blink a few times to prevent his eyes from tearing up. His heart felt too large, and it thumped almost painfully against his ribs for a few moments before he managed to calm himself.
“I love you, angel,” he whispered, closing his eyes for a moment when Aziraphale kissed his hand again. “I’ll always love you.”
“And I’ll always love you, my dear,” Aziraphale assured him, his voice ringing through the still night.
Crowley jumped a little at the volume and conviction of Aziraphale’s voice, not startled, but definitely moved. He surged forward, throwing his arms around his angel and pressing his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder.
“It’s all right, my love,” Aziraphale whispered, wrapping his arms around Crowley and holding him close.
“I know,” Crowley answered, not sure why he laughed the words, except that they felt so bloody right that they were a joy to utter. “I know it’s all right, Aziraphale.”
“Good,” he answered, squeezing Crowley gently and pressing his nose against Crowley’s hair. “You make me so happy, love.”
Crowley lifted his head, smiling soppily at his angel. He took Aziraphale’s hand in his, smiling down at their matching rings. A light wing and a dark one, overlapping in a way that could have been sensual or protective or just affectionate, and might just have been all three at once. Huh, jewelry really could tell an entire story. And trust his angel to have found a way to let it tell theirs.
END