Work Text:
1964
Crowley parked the Bentley in the shade under a tree. She took off her sunglasses, put them into the glove department and stepped out of the car. She was in the middle of nowhere. She wasn't exactly sure where nowhere was, because Aziraphale hadn't given her any directions. Never did. She just asked if they could meet up, and who was Crowley to resist the temptation? The demon just instinctively followed the magnetic pull of the angel, and here she was.
It was a hot day, but the temperature was quite bearable under the trees. Crowley admired Aziraphale's eye for detail when planning out these things. If you had asked Crowley to plan a picnic, she probably would've suggested their usual St. James's Park bench.
„Ah, there you are, dear!“ came a bright voice from the other side of the car. As Crowley sauntered around it, a colorful and elaborate setup emerged. Far too elaborate for what it was supposed to be.
„What exactly are you trying to achieve here, Angel?“
„Whatever do you mean, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked absentmindedly. The inside of a light brown wicker basket produced a noise of dishes clinking against each other, and soon two plates, two forks, and a cake knife flew out of it and settled gently on the patchwork blanket. Meanwhile, the angel was setting up a record player. "I said that I wanted to have a breakfast picnic, and that’s precisely what’s going to happen. A good picnic needs good preparation.“
„Looks like you set up a camp here. Even brought pillows. Who brings pillows to this sort of thing?“
„Well, would you rather like to sit on the floor?“
„No, but that’s what the blanket is for," Crowley stated and studied it briefly. "Did you make it yourself?"
Aziraphale nodded.
"Looks good." Crowley stood by the edge of the blanket. At her feet, Aziraphale was now elbow-deep in the basket, searching for something. Considering the size of the basket, she certainly shouldn't be able to do this. Crowley didn't question it any further.
She found what she was looking for and pulled it out of the basket.
Crowley tried to cover up a snort by coughing. "Aziraphale. Is that angel cake? Bit on the nose, isn’t it?“
Aziraphale let out a sigh and smiled up at Crowley. „Oh, stop yapping and sit down, you ungrateful demon. I spent all morning preparing all of this, and you dare criticize my work. What did you bring, anyway?“
„Uhhh. Wine,“ Crowley said lamely. That was all Aziraphale had asked for. And for Crowley to come in the first place, of course.
Aziraphale took the bottle out of Crowley's hand and looked at the label a tad too lovingly, like a proud mother might look at her child who just came on top of their class.
„Oh, how wonderful, an 1875 Château Lafite! You really do know me,“ she beamed. „Thank you.“
Crowley blushed and tried to hide it elegantly by whipping her head as far to the left as possible, pretending to suddenly be very interested in a random tree.
„Oh, errr- It’s nothing," she tried, as eloquently as ever. "Had it lying around. Somewhere. So. Shall we get started?“
„Right, sit down, my dear," Aziraphale instructed, and Crowley did so immediately. "Now, do you want a slice of cake?“
„Sure.“
After they both ate a few slices of the delicious cake (though not all of it, because the cake was huge. So huge, that if you were to follow the laws of physics, it shouldn't have been able to fit into the basket, let alone with all the other supplies, but oh, who really cares), they lied down next to each other. Both angel and demon were watching two sparrows building a nest in the branch above them intently.
After about half an hour, the angel spoke. „What have you been up to these past months anyway? We rarely had the pleasure.“
Crowley had dreaded the question since they set up the date. Aziraphale was always very interested in what Crowley did to pass the time, so it didn't come as a surprise. The demon tried to not make the angel worry even more than she already did on a regular, day-to-day basis.
„Something’s brewing Down There, I can feel it. The others can feel it. Beelzebub has been reigning with an extraordinarily hard hand. They’re preparing.“ Crowley sounded tense. She shifted on the blanket. These shifts in the atmosphere have been the cause of a fair amount of stress for quite some time now.
„Gosh." A shaky sigh. "Do you have any idea what it could be?“ the angel inquired. Not for nefarious reasons, not because she intended to tell Gabriel or Micheal, but because she was worried about Crowley. The demon knew this. She could sense her protective worry.
„No. But they’re keeping a closer watch on us and our whereabouts. Especially my whereabouts. The others, well... They don’t leave that place voluntarily. Ever.“ She cleared her throat and tried to shift the tone of her voice towards something more lighthearted. „Don’t get why you would want to stay Down There by choice.“
„Well, it’s their natural habitat. They’re probably wondering the same thing about you,“ Aziraphale concluded.
„It’s always damp. The flickering lights give me migraines. Or would, anyways. If I’d allow myself to get migraines, they would.“ Aziraphale rolled onto her side, now facing Crowley, who was keenly aware of this. „But that’s the intention, isn't it?" she continued. "Hell’s objectively not a pleasant place to be in. That’s the whole point. So why stay there?“
„Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale said gently. Crowley was still staring at the birds but could hear the smile in the angel's voice. "I think you’ve gone native.“
Crowley considered this.
„Nah. Not really able to be native to any place, am I? How could I be? Started out in Heaven, asked too many questions, ended up in Hell. Then there was the Garden. And from then on, everywhere. For all those years. Don’t even have an address.“ Crowley tried not to sound too sad about this. She swallowed around the lump in her throat that formed every time she thought too long and too hard about home. This conversation could use another bottle of wine, she thought desperately.
„Who has ever tried to mail you anything?“
Crowley grinned briefly and turned her head towards Aziraphale, who was still lying on her side, head propped up on one hand, studying the demon.
„You."
Aziraphale's cheeks were flushed pink. Crowley tried to curb her optimism. Must be the wine.
"You send me postcards all the time.“
„That hardly counts. I just give them to the mailman and hope that they reach you. And it always works as it seems.“
„Right. But over the years I have gathered up so many postcards with no stamp or address on them," Crowley stated thoughtlessly. "Looks funny, is all.“
Aziraphale paused and stared at Crowley with even more intensity than before. „You kept them? You kept all my postcards?“
„Did, yeah," she challenged. "What about it?“
„What about it?" Aziraphale moved to sit up straighter, gently shoving Crowley's shoulder. "I didn’t know you were such a sentimental one, Crowley!“ The angel started to giggle and raised her hand to cover her mouth lightly. Crowley watched the lines at the corner of her eyes and the delicate, light blue manicure on her nails. She had the strange urge to reach out to run a finger over the smooth polish.
„But seriously, I do find it sweet of you-"
Crowley was brought back to the situation at hand and groaned. „Oh shut it, Angel.“
„- to keep them. I’ve always put a lot of thought into them. It’s a very therapeutic ritual, you should try it.“ Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, starting to get cocky. Crowley always said that it suited her, the standing up for herself, the bickering. On the other hand, Crowley was glad that the angel was able to keep her neurotic tendencies in check. Two equally argumentative characters wouldn't have survived more or less than 6000 years together. Probably not even two. But that wasn't the point right now.
„I don’t write. You know that.“
„Picking out the card is the best part of it anyway!“
„Fine, okay. Next time I’m in Belfast or Vienna or wherever I will send you a postcard. But I will not write anything on the back. I won’t.“
„That’s fine, Crowley. At least I’ll know that you thought of me.“
Realization dawned on Crowley's face. That couldn’t be the reason for all the cards over all those years, could it? Had the angel always thought of her while traveling the world? Were the postcards a kind of compulsion, something that Aziraphale wanted to do, had to do, every time she thought of Crowley while away? The possibility made the demons' teeth ache.
She shook the thought off.
„Sure. As long as you’re happy.“
„How couldn’t I be?“ said the angel earnestly, lying back down.
Crowley blinked against the late August sun.
How couldn’t Aziraphale be?
Crowley instantly thought of 26 answers, eighteen of them involved herself. Trouble followed wherever the demon went, that kind of was the whole point. But recently things became even more unsettling. She was directly involved in the Thing they were planning, she was sure of it. They were testing if they could trust her. That's the reason why she didn't dare to see Aziraphale all that often these last few months. She couldn't even bear the thought of putting her in possible danger. Aziraphale had a weird talent for it, sure, but it always was entirely her own fault, and Crowley only helped her to get out of it. But hurting the angel on accident? Possibly making her fall? These had been themes of Crowley's worst nightmares.
The train of thought was derailed by the angel's pinky tracing her own.
Crowley froze, letting it happen. After a few seconds, Aziraphale covered the demon's entire hand with hers. Again, she did nothing. Maybe this was a tactile illusion. Maybe it was the warmth of the sun. Maybe Aziraphale fell asleep. She didn't dare to look.
Sometimes, when she was bored and not too tired, Crowley manifested a pulse. It was hard because she wasn't entirely sure how fast or slow a human heart beat, or how consciously they felt it in their chests. But it was a nice experiment. It helped her to feel human.
At this moment, if she were human, Crowley's heartbeat would be visible in her throat. Maybe her hands would start to sweat, or her lips would tremble. In reality, none of those things happened. She just laid there in the sun, next to her angel, and felt. She let all of the emotions, all of the recent stress wash away. It was easy to pretend that everything was fine in moments like these. Good thing they were rare, or else Crowley might've gotten used to it.
It was quiet in the woods. No cars, no bustling crowds. Crowley breathed and listened to the songbirds, the sounds of nature.
She closed her eyes. Opened them again. Screamed.
„For God's sake!“ She sat up slightly, pulling her hand away from Aziraphale's, and instantly regretted this.
Aziraphale was leaning over her, a worried look distorting her features, concern thundering in her pale blue eyes.
„You didn't blink for about 4 minutes. It was quite scary to watch. Are you alright, dear?“
Crowley laughed and instantly tried to forget the moment they just shared, just in case.
„How couldn’t I be, angel?“ the demon asked, looking into Aziraphale's eyes.
The concern practically dropped Aziraphale's face and was now replaced by something that could only be described as adoration. Only, that couldn’t be right. Curiosity, maybe. Or boredom, for all she knew. Anything but adoration.
„Oh, don't be silly.“
„Excuse me?“
Crowley was being kissed, then.
Plainly, gently. Without any rush or intention. A kiss for the sake of kissing.
Crowley's mind stopped racing for the first time since God knows how long.
When Aziraphale pulled back, there was an innocent smile playing on her lips.
Crowley took several deep breaths, then scoffed in disbelief.
„You bastard!“
„Excuse me?“
„That’s why you brought me here! I spent the last few days wondering why you would propose a picnic, of all things. You hate bugs. You hate eating outside because you are scared of bees!“ Crowley grinned.
„Wasps. And I don’t hate anyth-“
„Right. Anything that could be interested in your angel cake, essentially. So you brought me here, trying to- to seduce me, while in forced proximity!“
„Forced proximity! Now, that's quite enough. Stop acting like I’ve locked you up somewhere!“
Crowley threw her head back, not able to contain her laughter. „Where else am I supposed to sit, if not on the blanket right next to you?“
The angel huffed. „Alright, now stop making fun of me, I’m embarrassed enough as is. You could've just pushed me away if you hated it that much.“
„I'm not making fun of you, Aziraphale. I didn’t expect you to be as cunning as you are, that's all.“
„So what, you don't think I'm capable of planning a romantic date? I'm an Angel! That’s part of the job, in some way or another.“
Crowley reached for her hand. The angel looked up, shame apparent on her face. „I liked it," Crowley assured, brushing her thumb over the back of Aziraphale's knuckles. "It was just unexpected.“
Aziraphale breathed out. „Oh, good. I thought I ruined it.“
„You ruined nothing, Angel. I'm quite impressed, actually. Never expected you to make a move on me," the demon said with a wink.
Aziraphale pretended to be appalled by this. „Making- I did not make a move on you!“
Crowley moved closer and cupped Aziraphale's face in her hands, kissing her with determination. It wasn’t a fierce kiss, it certainly didn’t feature any tongue, but it conveyed the thoughts Crowley couldn’t quite put into words yet. They would come eventually, some years later, but not yet.
Aziraphale pulled away, smiling gently. „Oh Crowley, you just could've said earlier,“ she sighed.
There it was again.
„What's with that weird mind-reading thing that has been going on here? You scare me, Angel,“ Crowley said suspiciously, raising one eyebrow.
Aziraphale snickered and helped herself to another slice of angel cake.
It was going to be a nice day.
- - - - -
To:
A. J. Crowley
My dear,
As you know, I’ve been spending the last few days in Palermo. It is truly magical here. The glittering water, the charming shops, the weather. The locals get around on Vespas, they look like motorized velocipedes. It seems like tremendous fun. You’d surely like them.
Yesterday I had something called Tartufo, it was scrumptious. Maybe we could come here together someday so you can try it too.
I wish to see you as soon as I get back, I have bought a little something I’d like you to have.
With love,
A. Z. Fell