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Everything was so lovely.
And that seemed odd…suspicious even.
Aziraphale eyed Crowley from the passenger side of the Bentley and asked cautiously, “What’s the occasion?”
The demon raised his eyebrows, “Occasion?” he purred.
That was all the confirmation that Aziraphale needed. It wasn’t what Crowley had said (that one simple word), but how he said it. The demon liked to point out how easily he could read Aziraphale just based on tone of voice, but he himself wasn’t as aloof or mysterious as he liked to think he was. One word, said so whimsically that it was almost sarcastic, gave him away. Something was going to happen…something devilish.
“Whatever do you mean?” Crowley went on, his eyes never leaving the road.
“We just ate at Nachtigallhaus, a restaurant that you hate ,” the angel pointed out before gesturing to the radio, “We are listening to Schubert, rather than your usual bebop music, and… ” he leaned over to verify that this was correct, “We are currently only going ten miles over the posted speed limit. Something is up. Why are you being so nice to me? Have you done something?”
“I didn’t realize that going a certain speed counted as being nice to you ,” Crowley said dryly.
“You know how much I hate it when you drive recklessly. Forget the speed limit. You hate German food and you hate classical music even more so I’m only left to assume that you have something up your sleeve. You’re trying to make me let down my guard.”
Aziraphale said this all in a somewhat playful manner, but truthfully he was more than a little concerned. Crowley often got the pair into scrapes that required smoothing over (an unintended murder, a burglary that he conveniently forgot to tell Aziraphale about, and the like.) As a demon, his ability to get himself into trouble was limitless. Even after all the millenia, he still found ways to surprise Aziraphale when it came to disorder. (Truthfully, Aziraphale was no better, though his mishaps were usually unintentional, stemming from ill-planned attempts to do good while Crowley’s were always intentional and usually always wicked.)
Crowley shook his head and laughed, “Could it be that I just want to pamper you?” he said, with a malicious smile. His hand left the steering wheel and found a spot on Aziraphale’s knee, “I am doing this because I like the things that you like.”
“But you don’t like the things that I like,” Aziraphale argued, “Who has died? Did you kill them? Who did you anger this time? Do we need to leave London and create new identities? What is wrong? Just tell me. I can handle it.”
Rubbing the angel’s knee with his thumb affectionately, Crowley attempted to assuage his counterpart, “I haven’t done anything. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is up.”
“Perhaps you haven’t done anything, yet, but I can only assume that you’ve got something planned,” Aziraphale looked out the window to truly take in the scenery, “We’re going somewhere…certainly not home. Where are we going?”
Not home was right. Somewhere between basking in the memory of the Black Forest Gateaux he had just eaten and a particularly lovely recording of Symphony No. 9, Aziraphale had lost track of time and direction. The pair were currently driving through dark backroads, lined with trees and the occasional open field. Every kilometer or so, a stray street lamp would appear, offering a tiny bit of illumination to travelers, but, for the most part, the whole scene was pitch black, save the Bentely’s headlights. Admittedly, out of the city and away from the light pollution, one could truly appreciate the flickering stars and quarter moon that hung so perfectly in the inky sky. Aziraphale caught himself gazing at the beautiful celestial display and thinking, This is so romantic.
That made him stop. It was just one more factor to add to the list. Something was going to happen. This was a premeditated apology or some kind of token to smooth over whatever Crowley was about to tell him.
Sensing the growing tension, Crowley sighed, “We’re just going for a drive, Angel. Just a drive….away from the city. Just the two of us. It is nice, isn’t it?”
The way he said that made the angel feel a twinge of guilt. It was very nice, afterall. And the look on Crowley’s face when he said it was nothing short of darling, if not a little pathetic-looking. Even through his dark glasses, Aziraphale could see the demon’s eyes get wide and doe-like and the slightest hint of a pout had crossed his lips. With that, the angel melted and relaxed his shoulders before placing his hand over Crowley’s. A lovely drive in the woods with his beautiful demon while one his favorite composers serenaded them was decidedly nice. Perhaps even devils did the occasional considerate and amorous thing. He pulled Crowley’s hand to his lips, kissing it, as if offering an apology. They drove on in a comfortable silence, broken only by Franz’s marvelous symphonies.
And then something did happen…
Crowley took a sharp turn down a rugged road, but the term road was generous. Aziraphale was both spooked by the sudden change in direction and nervous over how this new, rock-and-root-infested trail was going to affect the Bentley. Crowley’s beloved car had survived many attacks over the decades and had proved itself to be an extremely capable automobile, but despite its abilities, it was still old and definitely not an off-road vehicle. The bumps and jostling certainly weren’t good for the old girl and surely Crowley knew that. But if he was concerned about the Bentley, he didn’t show it; he simply drove on down the pitchblack trail as if this were a normal section of the road.
The trees hung tightly over the path, often hitting the windshield and roof of the car; another intrusion against the Bentley that should have bothered Crowley, but the demon remained as stoic as ever. Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak when suddenly, the woody avenue settled down and the pair could drive on in a relatively smooth fashion.
“Crowley, what is going on-” the angel began before noticing what was up ahead: the trees had given way to a small waterway, nothing more than a pond, really, but the moonlight reflected exquisitely off it and the stars seemed especially bright against the vast blackness. The demon pulled the car over in front of the water, giving the pair an ideal vantage point to watch the interstellar dances above. He turned the car off, killing the radio along with the engine.
Equal parts concerned and intrigued, Aziraphale finally asked, “What are we doing here, Crowley?”
The demon looked at his watch and waited a few seconds before giving a vague answer, “I hope we haven’t missed it.”
“Missed what? What is going to happen?!” Aziraphale was genuinely worried now.
Crowley opened the car door and stepped out of the Bentley. He stuck his head back in only to say, “This is where me and my incubi pals meet once a week. We’re here to sacrifice kittens to our Lord and Master Lucifer. I thought you’d like to join us this time around.” With that, he shut the door and walked towards the pond.
Rolling his eyes, Aziraphale exited the Bentley as well, “Ha ha. You’re hilarious.”
“Did you bring a kitten?” Crowley said, smirking, “It’s a bring-your-own-kitten kind of party. I should have mentioned that.”
Bracing himself against the night chill, the angel walked towards his counterpart, “Why are you being so needlessly mysterious?”
“Why are you being so suspicious?” the demon retorted.
Aziraphale buttoned his coat up a bit and hugged himself tightly, “Just tell me it’s a surprise, and I’ll be content, but when you drag me out to the middle of nowhere with no context, forgive me for being a little suspicious. Where are you going?”
Just as Aziraphale had caught up with him, Crowley turned on his heel and headed straight back to the car. For a split second, Aziraphale thought that the demon was going to hop back in and drive off without him. Fortunately, Crowley merely walked to the back, opened the boot, and retrieved a blanket. He returned to Aziraphale and wrapped the cozy wool around him.
“Better?” Crowley asked.
“Much. Thank you. Now what are we doing here?”
Crowley turned Aziraphale towards the open sky over the pond and wrapped his arms around the angel from behind, “Just wait.”
Still dissatisfied with this answer, Aziraphale could only follow Crowley’s lead and look to the heavens. Now he truly could take in the array of constellations and distant, phantom galaxies. It was as if it had been painted specifically for them and feeling Crowley’s warm breath on the side of his face, Aziraphale wondered if perhaps it had. He took one hand out from under the blanket and held the demon’s face closer to his own as the pair looked on, watching the silent and slow ballet of the stars.
This particular ballet, however, was about to pick up speed; it started gradually with just a single falling star that made Aziraphale gasp. Before he could even comment on it, the entire sky seemed to descend upon them. Tiny beautiful dots of light radiated out from the vastness of space, glowing magnificently for a beautiful moment and then burning up and fading. To see one would have been magical, but the event went on and on for what seemed like several minutes. A dance without music…
Aziraphale broke away from Crowley’s grasp just so he could turn and study the demon who had removed his dark glasses by now and was simply staring breathlessly, looking helplessly smitten with this display. The meteors glowed so brightly that they seemed to reflect in Crowley’s yellow eyes, even illuminating the trace tears that were forming. A shower like this was rare, even for eternal beings…Aziraphale felt the need to turn and continue taking it in, but right then and there, the most captivating thing was the bliss and amazement sketched across Crowley’s face. It was the look of unbridled joy, untouched by the iniquity and cruelty of life. For this one moment, Crowley was transported back to the beginning…before the fall, before the war, before the Earth was even formed…they were just two angels, enjoying the majesty of a beautiful creation.
Aziraphale looked away from Crowley just in time to catch the tail end of the show. In the vacuum left behind, the sky felt hollow and empty, but it was still a long while before either one of them could tear their eyes away from it. Crowley reached out and took Aziraphale’s hand who, in term, wrapped himself up in Crowely’s arms once more. The angel reached a hand up and brushed a few trace tears away from the demon’s eyes. Crowley turned his face away, and Aziraphale could see that the giddiness was gone, replaced now with the same tortured demon who had driven here.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Crowely said, rubbing his eyes.
“You know,” Aziraphale began, “You can cry in front of me. It’s alright.”
“I’m not crying,” Crowley snapped and then looked back at the angel remorseful, “I”m not,” he repeated himself now in a softer tone, “Something got in my eyes…”
Aziraphale took Crowley’s face in both his hands and turned so he was looking directly at him, “Don’t play that game with me. It’s alright. They’re your stars, and they’re beautiful. It’s alright to be moved by them.”
“Those were meteors, not stars,” the demon pointed out.
“Whatever they’re called,” Aziraphale laughed, “They’re yours. And you love them. And you were moved by them just now. That’s alright. You don’t always have to be the big, scary, distant demon…especially with me.”
Finally making eye contact with the angel, Crowley said mirthfully, “You seem to think the big, scary, distant demon is always up to something.” Whether he was genuinely hurt by Aziraphale’s earlier suspicions or not, the angel couldn’t tell, but Crowley still chose this moment to whip out his doe-eyes and pout.
“Alright, I was wrong,” he offered up before wiping away a few more tears, “Do you want me to do the dance?”
Shaking his head, Crowley said, “No. I was hoping we could snog in the Bentley now, though.”
“Snogging in a car? How very human. And very wicked.”
“Oh, what’s wicked about it?”
“It’s just such a public place.”
“It’s hardly public-”
“Well, it’s certainly not private.”
Despite his outcry, it was still Aziraphale who was pulling Crowley by the hand back to the car and into the backseat. With a snap of his fingers, Crowley started the Bentley again, allowing Schubert to fill the radio once more. The demon pulled the blanket over top of himself and Aziraphale and began to find new ways to keep his angel warm.
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