Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was absolutely freezing, the weather was horrid, and everything was wet. Trodding through the snow was not Crawley’s idea of a good time, but Hell had insisted on it. To be honest, he wasn’t altogether unconvinced it wasn’t a punishment for having saved a few children during the Great Flood.

He’d argued that once the children were grown, they’d be very upset at the Almighty for having caused all the destruction, but Hell didn’t believe in nuance: either you were directly responsible for a soul’s damnation, or you were benefitting the other side. No matter how many times Crawley insisted that he didn’t—and never would—work for Heaven, Hell wasn’t buying it. Which is why he currently found himself in the middle of nowhere without enough layers on to keep out the chill.

“’S animal abuse is what it is,” Crawley muttered to himself. “Forcing a snake to tempt souls out here in one of the most frigid places on this stupid rock? I’m cold-blooded, for Someone’s sake.”

He clutched his robes closer to himself and gave a full-body shudder. Hell had given him instructions to find his mark in the mountains, but they hadn’t exactly been clear about which mountains they were referring to. In fact, the instructions had been more along the lines of, “Head northeast, and we’ll tell you when to stop.”

He’d started getting suspicious somewhere around mile 500, though the weather had still been relatively comfortable by that point. Around mile 1,000, he wondered if there was a specific reason he’d been told not to fly, and around mile 2,000, he realised that there probably was. The reason being that Hell was mad at him.

Well, he’d walked almost 3,000 miles and hadn’t heard a peep. Truth be told, he was glad he wasn’t stuck down there with the rest of the demons. They had no imagination, no finesse. Every time he popped down there, it was, “How many souls have you brought with you, Crawley?” or “Did you tempt that person we asked you to?” They wanted him to recount the deeds of the day, never stopping to consider that his deeds weren’t done in a day. He preferred a longer and more widespread approach, spreading a general sense of malaise and unease before sending out a slew of temptations all at once.

He’d tried to tell Hell that it was working, pointing out all the new souls that they’d recovered after Noah’s ark had left humanity behind. Instead of being commended, he’d gotten a lecture and stern orders to stay in line. Though he didn’t intend to give up the approach immediately—he was still wholly convinced that eventually Hell would grow to like it—Crawley knew when to leave well enough alone. Or at the very least, he did now that he’d had more than enough time to think about it.

“Absolutely wretched stuff, this snow,” he went on to no one in particular. “What was the Almighty thinking when She created it? ‘Oh yes, the humans will absolutely love being covered in freezing cold water. It’ll be especially great when they’re up to their knees in it. Surely this will make them believe in me.’”

With each step, he could feel himself getting more irritated. Even though he was over the whole falling thing (or at least, quite good at pretending he was), he still couldn’t understand why She felt the need to inflict such pain on the humans. Sure, they had their issues. They were grumpy and selfish and prone to hurting each other, but they weren’t always like that. In fact, in Crawley’s opinion, there were actually quite a few decent ones in every bunch. But the Lord had always seen everything in black and white, and that meant treating humanity like a bowl of rotten fruit: one bad human and you might as well toss the lot.

“Proud of yourself, are you? Killing thousands upon thousands of humans, and for what? To make a point?” Crawley glared at the clouds above him. “Maybe you should’ve designed them better! It’s not their fault they’re not perfect. If you wanted well-behaved beings, you could’ve just kept your bleeding angels.” He paused his tirade for a moment, then added, “Though I suppose they’re not always so well-behaved either.”

“We’re well-behaved!” came a voice. “We’re perfectly well-behaved! Just because you don’t agree with everything we do...”

Crawley recognised that voice. He turned to his left and found himself face to face with Aziraphale, angel of the Eastern Gate.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Crawley said with a grin. “Weren’t you busy making sure humanity started from scratch?”

“I told you! I’m not consulted on policy decisions,” Aziraphale huffed. “And besides, I was never responsible for the flood. I was just observing.”

“Oh, just observing, were you?” Crawley sneered at him then turned and started walking away. “Glad to hear you didn’t have to get your hands dirty. ‘Spose it’s beneath you to do the actual work of punishing the humans. Leave that to the Almighty and Her fancy rainstorm, right?”

Aziraphale quickly caught up to him. “I can only do so much. I was already reprimanded once for giving away my flaming sword.”

Crawley raised an eyebrow but continued walking at a slightly faster clip. “I thought you said the Almighty never asked about it.”

“Yes, well.” Aziraphale matched Crawley’s pace. “It’s not always the Almighty handing out reprimands, you know. Gabriel and the other archangels weren’t pleased with my behaviour.”

Crawley snickered. “You’re telling me that the Almighty wasn’t the one with the problem? That the archangels were the ones who decided that you deserved to be punished?”

“They did it on behalf of the Almighty, of course,” Aziraphale said, his tone a bit clipped. “She’s a bit busy with everything going on, so the archangels carry out Her orders.”

“Are you sure about that?” Crawley raised an eyebrow. “She wasn’t too busy to drown all those people.”

“That was different!”

“Whatever you say, angel.”

They marched along in silence for a bit, with Crawley staring straight ahead and Aziraphale looking anywhere but at his walking companion. Eventually, Crawley spoke up.

“You never did tell me what you were doing here.”

Aziraphale took the proverbial olive branch. “I’m supposed to be looking for an animal that wasn’t on the ark,” he said. “Some type of wolf, I think. Gabriel instructed me to find a pair and ensure that they live long enough to breed.”

“Why only the one pair?” Crawley asked. “And what are you supposed to do with them afterwards?”

“I’m not entirely sure. The instructions just said to make sure they breed,” Aziraphale admitted. “Though I’m certain they will give me further directions after that.”

Crawley took a moment to consider Aziraphale. The angel was staring straight ahead with his jaw firmly set. His arms were wrapped around himself, whether to protect him from the cold or from Crawley was anyone’s guess. Crawley could see that his hands were white where they gripped his upper arms. He looked so uncomfortable, yet so determined not to show it, that it took a few moments for Crawley to determine a course of action.

Eventually, he decided to go for it. He was known for asking questions, after all. The worst that could happen in this scenario was that Aziraphale would stomp off and ignore him for a bit. It wouldn’t be fun, and he’d miss the angel’s company for however long it took him to cool off, but it was a far cry from falling. If he survived that, he could survive Aziraphale’s potential ire.

“Angel,” he said softly, “are you sure about that?” At Aziraphale’s surprised look, he went on. “Because it sounds to me like your mission is a whole lot similar to mine.”

“What’s your mission, then?” Aziraphale eyed him warily. “Sow discord? Stir up trouble? Tempt the locals?”

Crawley shook his head. “Nothing so exciting as that. My instructions were pretty vague as well, but they specifically neglected to mention my actual goal, other than to tempt some supposed human. Which means that they more than likely sent me here just because it’s cold and uncomfortable.”

Aziraphale furrowed his brow. “Why would they want you to be uncomfortable? I mean, I know it’s Hell and all, but certainly, there has to be a point to all of this.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt there is.” Crawley sighed and looked at Aziraphale again. “I’m pretty sure the point is to make me cold and uncomfortable.”

It took a minute for Aziraphale to grasp Crawley’s meaning. When he did, he gasped. ”Are you saying they sent you here to punish you?”

Crawley shrugged and said nothing.

“But that doesn’t make any sense! I mean, what would they even punish you for? What could you have possibly done to make them think that sending you on a fool’s errand was more important than whatever evil deeds they have planned?”

Crawley simply shrugged again, at which Aziraphale’s eyes widened.

“The children,” Aziraphale said, his voice filled with awe. “You saved the children.”

“Not all of them,” Crawley countered quickly. “I did what I could, but I couldn’t get nearly enough of them in time. And there were only so many places to hide them on board.”

“Still, you saved them. You rescued them from the rising waters because you couldn’t stand it otherwise.” Aziraphale looked at him, a soft smile crossing his face. “I knew you still had some goodness left in you.”

“Don’t say that,” Crawley hissed. “It’s purely demonic work, disobeying Her will and all that. I’m surprised Hell didn’t give me a commendation for it, to be honest.”

Aziraphale continued smiling at him, which made Crawley’s skin itch. He wanted to tell him to cut it out, to shout something at him that would make him understand that Crawley couldn’t be good. He wasn’t physically cut out for it, not to mention what Hell would do if they heard Aziraphale’s accusations.

However, knowing Aziraphale even as little as he did, Crawley had gotten the distinct sense that he wasn’t going to change his mind no matter how much he shouted and cursed at him. More than likely, if things got too heated between them, Aziraphale would just storm off in a huff.

If Crawley were being honest—which wasn’t something he wanted to make a habit of—he didn’t really want Aziraphale to storm off right now. Wherever they were was cold, damp, and rather lonely. In fact, the two wolves that crossed their path marked the first sign of life he’d seen in a while.

“Aziraphale,” Crawley said, tugging on his companion’s arm and pointing ahead. “I think we might’ve found what you were looking for.”

Aziraphale started suddenly but followed Crawly’s hand up to where the two animals stood about fifteen metres ahead.

“Well spotted,” he said with a nod. “What do you think we should do?”

Crawley was so befuddled by the question that he didn’t even remark on Aziraphale’s use of “we.” “How should I know? It’s your mission! I’m just supposed to wander around until Hell decides they need me again.”

“Pardon me for thinking your opinion was of value,” he said with a sniff. “I’ll endeavour not to make the mistake again.”

Crawley rolled his eyes. “Don’t be like that,” he said, exasperated. “I just meant that I have no idea what we are supposed to do. I suppose the first course of action would be to follow them to that cave up ahead?”

“What cave? What makes you think they’re going to—” The question died on Aziraphale’s lips as he noticed the cave that had suddenly appeared up ahead. He turned to Crawley and tried (but failed) to hide his delight. “Did you do that?”

“It’s for our benefit, too,” Crawley insisted. “And for Hell’s. Imagine how many plants and insects I just displaced.” In reality, all of the displaced flora and fauna somehow found themselves in surroundings that were just as well, if not better, suited than where they had just been, but Crawley wasn’t about to share that with the angel who already thought too highly of him. “I don’t feel like traipsing through any more of this blasted snow anyway.”

As predicted, the two wolves entered the cave, followed shortly by two otherworldly beings. Crawley snapped his fingers, and a small fire began to roar next to two rather comfortable-looking rocks. Crawley glanced at Aziraphale, daring him to say anything, but Aziraphale merely took a seat and beckoned for Crawley to join him.

Crawley spared another glance at the wolves, who had made themselves at home relatively far off from the fire in the back of the cave, before taking up the seat across from Aziraphale.

“How long does it take for them to breed?” Crawley asked. “A day? A couple of days?”

“To breed? Oh no, far longer than that, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale chuckled, then looked thoughtful for a moment. “Though I suppose the, erm, act itself is much shorter. Gabriel is quite a stickler for following instructions, so it’s best to assume I need to be here throughout the whole process.”

Crawley rested his head in his hand. “How do we know if it’s working?” he ventured. “I mean, I know in humans you can see all the kissing and whatnot, but I don’t know how that extends to wolves.”

Aziraphale stared at him for a moment with an unreadable expression on his face. “Crawley…” he ventured, “what do you mean ‘kissing’? What does that have to do with any of this?”

Crawley shrugged but was secretly pleased to have the upper hand. “I mean, it’s obvious, innit? Just takes some pretty strong snogging to make a baby. Didn’t you see Adam and Eve doing all that kissing in the Garden?”

“That’s a bit of an understatement, but I suppose I understand your meaning.” Aziraphale’s face was flushed, and his fidgeting almost distracted Crawley from the topic at hand. Almost.

“What do you mean ‘understatement’?” Crawley eyed him cautiously. “What else is there?”

“You mean to say, you really don’t know?” Aziraphale’s mouth fell open in shock. “But you’re…you’re…”

Crawley tilted his head. “I’m what? A demon? What’s that got to do with any of this?” Then, smirking Aziraphale, he added, “What’re you turning all red for? All this talk of kissing embarrassing you?”

Aziraphale’s face settled on a nice rosy pink, and he bit his lip, trying to hold back a laugh. “My dear, did they not teach you about procreation in Hell?”

“What’d they need to teach us? Just a few fabulous kisses and then boom—a baby pops out a few months later.” His smirk turned even more gleeful. “Some of us manage to figure out how things work on our own, angel.”

Aziraphale bit his lip harder, his eyes welling up with tears as he tried to hold back his merriment. “I think perhaps you’d better go and ask them for an explanation. Your understanding is a bit—shall we say—limited?”

“I’ve just as much experience as you do!” Crawley countered, throwing his hands up. “Just because you were too busy picking the fruits and misplacing your fancy sword doesn’t mean the rest of us weren’t paying attention to the humans. I saw what they got up to. I know perfectly well how it works.”

Crawley sounded so sure of himself, so confident that he couldn’t possibly be missing something, that Aziraphale couldn’t hold it back any longer. He burst out laughing so loudly that it startled the wolves, who retreated out of sight to avoid the impending domestic. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he couldn’t catch his breath as he doubled over in a fit of giggles. Crawley probably would have found it endearing if he wasn’t so put out.

“Stop laughing!” he commanded. “It’s not funny! I don’t even know why you’re laughing. What’s so funny about kissing?”

Though Aziraphale had managed to rein in his laughter for a moment, Crawley’s protests sent him over the edge again. He was giddy with laughter, cheeks red and wet with tears, smile wide with amusement. As Aziraphale’s laughter continued, Crawley’s patience wore thin. It was pretty thin to begin with, what with having walked 3,000 miles for no foreseeable reason, but the angel’s reaction just about put him over the edge.

“Well, fine then!” Crawley moved to stand and crossed his arms. “Go on and have your laugh, whatever it’s for. I’ll go and have a nice stroll outside until you calm down. Suits you right, losing your mind over nothing.”

“Wait! Don’t go!” Aziraphale reached for Crawley but stopped just short of touching his arm. He was still wheezing a bit as he tried to catch his breath, though his laughter had died down quite a bit. Crawley decided to humour him. As put out as he was, whatever made the angel laugh so hard was probably worth sticking around for.

When Aziraphale finally caught his breath, he made Crawley once again tell him what exactly he knew about reproduction. Crawley, after being cajoled by the angel for several minutes, gave in. He admitted that no, Hell hadn’t bothered to give them the specifics, either because they figured it was unnecessary information or because they simply couldn’t be bothered.

“What about the succubi and incubi?” Aziraphale inquired, at which Crawley scoffed.

“Did anyone ever have to tell you how to be an angel?”

“I suppose not.”

“Then there’s your answer.”

After explaining to Aziraphale in great detail how exactly the whole process of making babies worked—at which point the angel had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, which Crawley steadfastly ignored—Aziraphale had asked how exactly Crawley came to know this if it wasn’t Hell’s doing.

“Just hold on a moment,” Crawley exclaimed. “This is where you’ll really be impressed.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him, and Crawley continued, once again ignoring the bemused expression across from him.

“Since Hell wouldn’t tell me anything, I decided to observe for myself. Figured it might be useful in the long run, knowing where the little ones came from and all. I suppose it’s a good thing I did, seeing as how I was going to be responsible for the pain of childbearing or whatever you want to call it.” He appeared thoughtful for a moment, scratching his chin. “Is it still called childbearing if they’re not children? Can wolves have children? What do you even call a baby wolf?”

“A pup,” Aziraphale supplied, “but you’re getting off topic.”

“I’ll show you off-topic,” Crawley muttered but acquiesced. “Anyway, I hung around the humans for a bit before I decided to go and bother the feathered git up on the wall.”

“You have feathers, too,” Aziraphale mumbled, looking put out.

“Don’t get yours all ruffled,” Crawley said. “I didn’t know you then, and all of your lot I’d interacted with had been gits until that point. I wouldn’t call you that now.”

Aziraphale’s expression brightened. “I’m glad to see you’ve warmed up to me.”

“Nnnyeaahhh.” Crawley waved a hand at him dismissively. “Don’t go patting yourself on the back. ’S just because you didn’t smite me right off the bat. That’s the bare minimum of professional courtesy, in my opinion. It doesn’t mean I’ve warmed up to you—or even like you—for that matter.”

Aziraphale just continued smiling and indicated for him to go on.

“Right. You keep distracting me. Would be a lot easier to tell the story if you didn’t keep interrupting.” Aziraphale opened his mouth to protest, but Crawley ignored him. “Like I was saying, I was hanging around the humans, chatting with Eve every so often, telling her she should think about eating that ripe juicy apple and everything when one day she and Adam started smashing their faces together. It didn’t look very comfortable to me, but what do I know? I’ve never done it. They seemed to like it enough since they kept doing it. I eventually found out it was called ‘kissing’ and that it was something humans did to express love. Blech.”

“Now there’s really no need for that,” Aziraphale tutted. Crawley shot him a glare before continuing.

“They’d be hanging around the fire and start kissing randomly. At first, it was only once or twice until eventually they reached a point where they’d do nothing but snog for the better part of an hour. I didn’t realise I was supposed to give them privacy at that point, so I didn’t. Just kind of looked on in disgust as they mashed their lips together.”

“So how did you, erm, connect the dots?” Aziraphale paused, glancing at Crawley with a wry smile on his face.

“I’m getting there!” Crawley folded his arms over himself. “Isn’t patience supposed to be a virtue? And here you are, interrupting and demanding I go faster while I’m trying to give you the whole story.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Oh honestly, demon, you can be so dramatic.” Neither of them acknowledged the fact that when Aziraphale called him a demon, it sounded anything but negative. If anything, it almost sounded fond.

“Soooooo,” Crawley drawled for far longer than necessary, prompting Aziraphale to roll his eyes again. “Adam and Eve are kissing left and right. Kissing by the waterfall. Smooching by the campfire. Swapping spit in full view of all of God’s creatures.” Crawley eyed the angel, daring him to butt in. Aziraphale wrinkled his nose at the choice of words but remained silent. “They’re kissing all over the place. ‘M honestly a bit surprised they got anything done, considering how often they were at it. During one particularly vigorous round, I decided to make myself scarce. As I said, I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to hang around—even though it didn’t take eating an apple to make me feel a bit embarrassed—but that didn’t mean I didn’t have better things to do.”

He paused, waiting for Aziraphale to interject, and was almost annoyed when he didn’t. He cleared his throat and looked pointedly at the angel, who seemed to suddenly get the idea.

“Oh, I mean, you’re certainly a wily creature!” he exclaimed. “Leading Eve astray and all that.” He raised an eyebrow at Crawley, silently asking for confirmation, and Crawley nodded.

“There I was, minding my own business and stirring up trouble like Downstairs told me to, and all of a sudden I hear the humans shouting. I went to check it out, and the two of them were holding hands and dancing around the fire. One of the other snakes was good enough to tell me what they’d heard, which was that Eve was pregnant. Figured it had to be a good thing by the way they said it, so I just headed off to cause more mischief elsewhere to make up for it.”

Crawley gave Aziraphale a look, and this time he was much quicker on the uptake. “Foul fiend,” he tutted. “Creating problems when the two of them had so much to think about already. Quite evil of you, I’d say.”

He must have overdone it a bit because Crawley looked a bit sheepish. “I just went and started a fight among the lions, convinced them they needed their own territory and whatnot. I didn’t know they’d go and take it out on the humans.”

“It’s a good thing I gave them my sword, then,” Aziraphale offered carefully. Crawley let the corners of his mouth form just the tiniest hint of a smile to let the angel know his kindness (not that Crawley would call it that) was appreciated.

“I suppose so,” Crawley acknowledged before moving on. “Like I said, while I was out and about creating mischief, I had some time to think. I kept thinking back to the whole pregnancy thing and tried to figure out how it came about. I was pretty sure the Almighty hadn’t taken another one of Adam’s ribs, and I didn’t think Eve lost one of hers either. After tossing the idea around in my head for a few days, it occurred to me that this whole thing came about only after the two of them had started kissing. Just a few days of that, and suddenly she was going to have a baby. And there it was, the obvious answer: humans reproduce by kissing!”

Once again, Aziraphale’s expression was inscrutable. “I’m sorry you had to hear this from me,” Crawley said, eyeing him carefully, “though I suppose it’s better than not knowing at all.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale nodded. “It’s quite kind of you to share your discovery.”

“It’s not kind—” Crawley began, stopping short when he realised he had lost Aziraphale to another fit of giggles. At this point, he didn’t feel like storming back out into the cold just to make a point. Instead, he decided to make do by miracling up a jug of wine and casting dirty looks at Aziraphale while he took swigs from it. If he weren’t so irritated, he’d probably have offered him some, but he was perfectly content to enjoy it on his own while the angel’s giggles slowly subsided. Served him right for his ridiculous—and completely unwarranted—response.

Crawley had only made it about a fourth of the way through the wine when Aziraphale finally caught his breath. He liked to think that had he been slightly more drunk, he wouldn’t have been so eager to hear what he had to say.

“So,” Crawley started, pausing to take another swig while he gathered his nerve, “would you care to tell me which part of my story was so bloody funny?”

Aziraphale had the grace to look slightly chastened, though the residual pink spots on his cheeks were still a sore spot. “It’s not as if I don’t think you’re clever. In fact, I think you’re extraordinarily clever. Under other circumstances, your powers of deduction would have positively dazzled me, if I am being honest.” He trailed off and stared down at his hands as he fiddled with the ring on his pinky finger.

Crawley cleared his throat. “But…?”

Aziraphale eyed him blankly, and Crawley rolled his eyes.

“There has to be more to it than that, Aziraphale.” Crawley took another swig of wine and followed it up with a satisfied, “Ahhh,” half hoping that it would spur Aziraphale to ask to try it. He didn’t.

“I’m trying to find a delicate way to put it.” Aziraphale twirled the ring around and around again before meeting Crawley’s eyes.

Crawley gave a long-suffering sigh. “Whatever you’re trying to get at, it can’t be much worse than listening to you snicker about it for the past half an hour.” He pointed the neck of the wine jug at Aziraphale, succeeding only in sloshing a bit of it, and demanded, “Out with it.”

“If you insist.” Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to sigh. “I suppose I should start by telling you where you went wrong.”

Crawley bristled slightly at that but said nothing, waving the bottle at Aziraphale to indicate that he should continue.

“Now, it’s not as if you were completely incorrect. You weren’t wrong in that the pregnancy came about after a more vigorous bout of kissing.” He twirled the ring around again. “It’s just that you didn’t have all the facts. Had you stayed around Adam and Eve for a bit longer, you likely would have come to the proper conclusion.”

“Which is…?” Crawley was trying his best not to lose his patience.

“Well, it’s not kissing that leads to procreation,” Aziraphale stated matter-of-factly. “It’s coitus.”

Aziraphale paused for a dramatic effect that was completely lost on Crawley, whose expression didn’t change in the slightest.

“Coitus,” Crawley repeated. “What’s that? Some kind of plant?”

“No, it’s a term that describes the act of mating.” Aziraphale peered at Crawley expectantly, as if what he said should mean something to him.

“Coitus,” Crawley repeated again. “So it’s another word for kissing?”

“No. Coitus,” Aziraphale repeated more emphatically.

“I heard you the first time,” Crawley scoffed. “I still can’t figure out what you’re getting at.”

“Intercourse?” Crawley continued looking at him blankly. “Copulation? Intimate relations? Sex?”

“Nope, doesn’t ring a bell.” Crawley tossed his finished jug to the side and propped his elbows on his knees.

Aziraphale heaved an immense sigh. “Hanky-panky? Making whoopee?” He pronounced the words in a prim tone that even Crawley, who had never heard any of them until this point, knew had to be incorrect.

“Surely you’ve heard of ‘making the beast with two backs,’” Aziraphale continued. “It should be right up your alley because of the—”

“Because of the beasts. Yeah, I got it.”

“Really?” Aziraphale’s eyes widened in surprise. “I could understand not recognising the act, but you’ve never heard the phrase?”

“Obviously not,” Crawley spat back.

“Getting it on?”

“Negative.”

“Knocking boots?”

“Nope.”

“Doing the horizontal tango?”

“What in Someone’s name is a tango?”

“Taking a term among the cabbages?”

“And what in Someone’s name is a cabbage?”

“Dancing the Paphian jig?”

“…”

“Giving a girl a green gown?”

“…….”

“Playing nug-a-nug? Riding below the crupper? Fadoodling?”

“Fadoodling? That’s not even a word.” Crawley pointed the jug threateningly at Aziraphale, who didn’t seem threatened in the least. “I’m pretty sure none of these are, in fact. I think you made all of these up.”

“Putting the devil in Hell?”

“Where else would you put him?”

“Dancing Barnaby?” Crawley shook his head, and Aziraphale looked disappointed. “You’ve never heard of dancing Barnaby?”

“No, I haven’t,” Crawley snapped at him. “And I don’t think anyone else has either. Just spit it out! What in Hell’s name are you trying to say?”

Aziraphale sighed and gestured for Crawley to come over. Crawley raised an eyebrow.

“What, you can’t tell me from over here?”

“It’s a delicate topic that I would like to keep from prying eyes. Or ears, rather.” Aziraphale pointed a finger discreetly upward. “Not that there’s anything wrong with the subject, mind you. Humans have all these funny ideas about it and whether or not it’s fit to be discussed in polite company, but I don’t think any of that matters.”

“Then why the secrecy?” Crawley stood and walked over to where Aziraphale was seated before taking a knee. “Why not just blurt it out so we can move on from this conversation?”

“Regardless of my own feelings on the matter, both of our sides have formed quite an opinion. The last thing I need is for my superiors to accuse me of introducing you to a new avenue of temptation.”

“Alright, alright.” Crawley leaned in towards Aziraphale, who cupped two hands over his mouth and started whispering.

Almost as soon as the conversation started, Crawley’s eyebrows rose to meet his hairline. “How does that work?” he asked, eyes round as saucers. There was some more whispering, followed by Crawley’s, “Ah, I guess that makes sense.” The whispering continued for another thirty seconds or so before Crawley chimed in with, “And they enjoy this?” The muffled sounds continued until finally, Aziraphale pulled back, looking satisfied.

“Well, that’s a thing.” Crawley shrugged before standing and returning to his own seat. “I suppose I should thank you for the explanation.”

“No need.” There was a hint of a smile on Aziraphale’s face. It made Crawley want to blush, for some odd reason. Instead, he pretended he hadn’t seen it.

“So what happens now?” Crawley leaned back as far as he could without toppling off the stone and crossed his arms. “We just sit around and wait for them to pop out a few puppies?”

Aziraphale sniffed. “I would’ve put it a bit more delicately, but yes, that’s the idea. Though you’re not obligated to stay here, by any means. You can be on your way any time you’d like.”

Whether it was an out or a request, Crawley ignored it. “More delicately?” he cackled. “You’re the one inventing euphemisms for sex!”

“I didn’t invent anything,” Aziraphale harrumphed. “I just got a bit ahead of myself. I’m sure those phrases will be rather commonplace in a few centuries.”

Crawley snorted derisively. “Whatever you say, angel.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, both content to watch the flames dance between them. Crawley knew it didn’t make sense for him to stay here. He had orders from Hell. Whether or not they actually mattered didn’t factor into the equation. Hell was keen on following orders, and Crawley was blatantly disregarding them. Unless he could find a way to spin it in his favour, the visit would have to be short-lived.

Except Crawley didn’t want to leave. He hadn’t known Aziraphale for that long in the grand scheme of things, but he couldn’t ignore the feeling that told him he was meant to stay here with the angel, that their paths were intertwined somehow. Maybe it was just exhaustion that made him so keen to sit around for a while, but a voice deep down told him that wasn’t it. The reality was, he found the angel intriguing. He was stuffy, rigid, and more than a little holier-than-thou, but he was also kind, witty, and hadn’t backed down from any of Crawley’s challenges.

He was a tough nut to crack, and Crawley wanted to crack him.

It wasn’t like there was no precedent for this. He’d been kicked out of Heaven for his curiosity, after all. What harm was there, really, in being curious about this stuffy, sincere angel?

So, when Crawley reclined on the stone again, took another swig of his wine, and asked, “Got any more interesting facts about humans to share?” he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew he’d be here until he and Aziraphale were staring down at the furry faces of the wolves Gabriel was so adamant about saving unless Aziraphale tired of him first.

When Aziraphale responded to Crawley’s question about how he’d learned humans couldn’t breathe underwater, Crawley knew the angel didn’t want him to leave either.

Several days, then weeks, passed in no time at all. Aziraphale and Crawley spent their days chatting by the fire, taking a few moments here and there to check on the status of the wolves, and bickering about everything under the sun.

They had wildly different opinions on most things—music, for starters. Crawley loved all of it, even the religious stuff, while Aziraphale decried the melodic tradition of Ur as “too modern.” They debated art (Aziraphale appreciated the human’s ingenuity and innate desire to create; Crawley appreciated their innate desire to one-up each other with their talents), weather (Aziraphale didn’t mind the rain, though he did draw the line at torrential flooding, while Crawley couldn’t get away from it fast enough), and clothing (Crawley loved the changing fashions and partook in all of them; Aziraphale had acquired one robe two hundred years ago and planned to wear it until it fell apart). They argued about the temperature of the cave, whose turn it was to light the fire, who let the fire burn out, the comfort level of the stones, and even, on one memorable occasion, whether or not the wolves could understand them.

“They’re wolves, Crawley,” Aziraphale said, rolling his eyes.“They don’t have the capacity to understand language.”

“Then why does the big one keep shooting me dirty looks?”

“Perhaps it just knows, on some level, what you are.”

Crawley gave Aziraphale a look so venomous it could’ve wilted flowers.

Aziraphale blanched. “Or maybe,” he said carefully, “that’s just its normal expression?”

Crawley huffed at that but didn’t comment further.

It shouldn’t have surprised Crawley how well they got on, considering that he always felt some sort of pull towards the angel. What surprised him was how long they got on. They often talked into the wee hours, stopping only when Crawley was practically falling asleep on his stone, at which point Aziraphale would shoo him to bed properly.

What Aziraphale did while Crawley slept was anyone’s guess. Crawley had asked him about it once and had gotten some noncommittal, half-hearted explanation in response. He hadn’t bothered asking about it again, figuring it was one of the few topics that they didn’t discuss.

That was fine with him. He was already pretty pleased with how open Aziraphale had been in general. He’d half expected the angel to boot him out after only a couple of days.

Instead, he seemed to enjoy Crawley’s company almost as much as Crawley enjoyed his. Whether or not he’d admit what he was doing, Aziraphale had made multiple attempts to make Crawley more comfortable, even going so far as to miracle up a blanket and a relatively soft stone pillow for him to sleep on.

When Crawley had inquired as to why Aziraphale would do such a thing, he’d merely retorted that sleeping kept Crawley from pursuing other temptations. Never mind the fact that the most tempting Crawley had done the whole time they were together was tempting Aziraphale to share more stories despite the late hour. And considering that the angel didn’t sleep, it was more a problem for himself than anything.

Somewhere around the two-month mark, Crawley was woken from a deep sleep by something shaking his shoulder.

“Crawley,” whispered the overly posh tone that Crawley had come to recognise meant something was wrong, “wake up!”

Crawley was up in an instant. “What’s the matter?” he mumbled, his brain still slightly addled with sleep. “Did someone find us?”

“It’s Urgir and Urbara!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “It’s time!”

Crawley rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“The wolves, Crawley!” Aziraphale grabbed Crawley’s hand and started tugging at it. “Urbara is about to give birth. We have to do something!”

Crawley groaned but got to his feet. “I thought you were well versed in the intricacies of childbirth,” he grumbled under his breath. “What do you need me for?”

Aziraphale shot him a sharp look and pulled him further into the cave. If Crawley had been slightly more awake, he might’ve marvelled at the fact that Aziraphale was still holding his hand. As it was, he was a bit preoccupied at the moment, what with the nervous angel and a wolf in labour.

As they approached the wolves, the first thing Crawley noticed was that one of them, presumably Urbara, was panting heavily but otherwise seemed perfectly fine.

Well, scratch that. The first thing he noticed was Urgir giving him a dirty look, but he opted to ignore it due to the urgent situation.

“What should we do?” Aziraphale started pacing back and forth, his eyes going from the wolves to Crawley and back again. “Heaven didn’t give me any more directions. I was sure that they would, seeing as how they assigned me this mission in the first place. I mean, why else would they assign me instead of an angel experienced with childbirth?” He started fiddling with his ring, looking more and more grey as he went on. “I think you might have been right, Crawley. I think they just wanted me out of the way, which is all well and good for them, but what about poor Urbara? She didn’t ask for this. She doesn’t deserve to be stuck here with an incompetent angel who doesn’t know any better. And now she’s going to get ill, and her pups won’t be born and—”

“Aziraphale,” Crawley interrupted. “Stop and take a good look at them. Do they really seem like they need our help?”

Aziraphale paused his steps and glanced at the wolves for a moment before looking back at Crawley, his forehead pinched in fear.

“I don’t know,” he said in a voice pitched higher than usual. “I don’t know! I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing. They didn’t tell me—”

“Angel,” Crawley interrupted again, more sharply this time. “Look at them again. And I mean really look at them. Do they seem like they’re in any danger?”

Aziraphale took a moment to gaze at the wolves. The female that they’d apparently named Urbara was curled up on another blanket that Aziraphale had presumably miracled up before he’d started panicking. Her eyes were a little unfocused, but she was still clearly aware of what was going on around her. She seemed rather at peace, considering the task at hand, and Crawley admired her for it.

The other wolf, Urgir, stood by her side with a serious look in his eyes. Aziraphale might not think the wolf was capable of giving dirty looks, but Crawley knew better. He could tell when he wasn’t welcome, and they definitely weren’t welcome right now.

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale finally responded, a bit calmer than before but his voice still laced with concern. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be looking for.”

Crawley shrugged. “Do they seem panicked to you?”

“I suppose not. But—”

“Do they look ill? Or injured?”

Aziraphale glanced at the wolves again. “Not particularly.”

“Do they look like they’re in need of celestial assistance?”

Aziraphale sighed. “Maybe not, but—”

“Aziraphale, you’re not hearing me!” Crawley exclaimed. “Look at them. Do they seem like they even want us here?”

Aziraphale made eye contact with Urgir, who raised his lip in a sort of half-hearted growl. Aziraphale’s shoulders fell, and he turned back to Crawley, his arms crossed in a way that seemed more protective than confrontational.

“I don’t suppose they do,” Aziraphale said quietly. “I guess they haven’t needed our help this far. Why should now be any different?”

Crawley could tell from the slight crack in his voice that this was about more than just the wolves. “Come on, angel,” he said, offering Aziraphale his hand. “Let’s keep an eye on the entrance while they sort this out for themselves.”

Aziraphale said nothing but accepted Crawley’s hand. He continued to hold it while they walked back to the fire, only letting go after Crawley had led him to his seat. Crawley made his way to his own spot and sat, studying Aziraphale carefully. Aziraphale was staring at the base of the fire, a slight frown on his face. His tiny crow’s feet were more pronounced than usual, and Crawley saw the beginnings of dark circles forming under his eyes. Clearly whatever was eating at Aziraphale hadn’t started tonight.

The two of them said nothing for a few minutes. Aziraphale just stared at the fire, while Crawley continued to discreetly study Aziraphale’s face. Finally, Crawley decided to broach the subject.

“Everything alright there, angel?” he asked gently. “I know you’re worried, but I wouldn’t stress too much. Animals give birth in the wild all the time. They seem to do okay, don’t they?”

“Indeed they do,” Aziraphale said, his gaze still fixed downward.

Another few moments went by before Crawley tried again. “I’m glad you woke me up, though. It never hurts to get a second opinion.”

Aziraphale nodded but said nothing. He reached for the stick that they had been using to stoke the fire and began prodding the flames.

Crawley was at a loss. He wanted to comfort Aziraphale but wasn’t sure what kind of gesture would be welcome. Where was he even supposed to start? Aziraphale’s usually upbeat demeanour was gone, and he looked morose. Distraught even. But for what? It seemed like the job Heaven asked of him was getting done, and in good time, too. They weren’t needed, either, which meant that they could chat around the fire and enjoy however much time they had left before it was time to leave the cave.

Apparently, that wasn’t what Aziraphale wanted, if his behaviour was any indication. Eventually, he decided to just ask outright.

“Aziraphale,” he started slowly, as if afraid to spook the angel, “what is this really about?”

Aziraphale startled suddenly as if shocked out of his reverie. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, I can’t help but think this is about more than just the wolves,” Crawley said gently. “Not that I’m implying you don’t care about them or anything. Of course you do. It’s just that you seem a bit more upset than…” Than the situation warrants, he finished in his mind, deciding at the last second that it was probably better left unsaid.

“What exactly are you implying?”Aziraphale said icily. “Are you suggesting that I might have an ulterior motive?”

“I said nothing of the sort!” Crawley bit back angrily.

“Well, then what?” Aziraphale’s gaze was focused entirely on Crawley, and Crawley wasn’t sure he cared for it at the moment. “Are you suggesting that my emotions are inappropriate for the situation? That I shouldn’t be so emotional?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Crawley snapped.

“Well, I apologise if my reaction wasn’t what you expected of me.” Aziraphale went back to poking at the fire, the heat in his voice giving way to exhaustion. “I’m sorry that I conducted myself in a manner unbecoming of an angel.”

Crawley glared daggers at him. “You…you’re…you’re such an idiot sometimes!” Aziraphale looked up sharply and opened his mouth to protest, but Crawley didn’t give him a chance. “I was just trying to help, for Someone’s sake. But pardon me for giving a damn!”

Aziraphale gaped at him. “…what?”

“You just looked so...so…so sad,” Crawley waved a hand around aimlessly, “I just wanted to see if there was something I could do to make you stop frowning. I didn’t mean to insinuate that there was something wrong with you personally. I’d never suggest anything like that. I just thought you could use a….an ally or something at the moment.” He sighed deeply, then added. “Or at the very least, not an enemy.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth for a moment as if to say something, then closed it, looking properly chastened. Crawley thought about conjuring up something to drink but decided it was still too early in the morning for that. In fact, his body was so used to sleep, it was calling for him to go back to bed. If he were a better demon, he’d give in to it and leave the angel alone with his discomfort. But, as irritated as he was with Aziraphale’s assumptions, he still didn’t feel right leaving him alone like this.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale spoke after a few minutes of quiet. “I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t have accused you of such things.”

Crawley eyed him warily but said nothing.

“You weren’t entirely wrong in your assumptions,” Aziraphale went on. “That…that it’s not necessarily about the wolves. Perhaps I’m silly for being so upset about it, but I can’t understand what I’ve done wrong. What I’ve done to make the angels decide I’m deserving of punishment, and a rather poor one at that. It hasn’t exactly been a hardship, spending these last couple of months in your company.”

Crawley blushed slightly. He wanted honesty from the angel, but he hadn’t anticipated such openness. And he definitely wasn’t prepared for Aziraphale to say things that sounded awfully close to him admitting he enjoyed a demon’s company.

“’S alright,” Crawley muttered. “I know what it’s like to be disliked by your co-workers. Though I can’t imagine what they’re mad at you for.”

Aziraphale sighed. “I wish I knew myself. Then I’d be able to stop doing it, whatever it is. I try to be a good angel, I really do. I show up for all the meetings. I complete all the assignments. Maybe I’m a little slower than the other angels, and Heaven doesn’t always approve of my methods, but I’m not sure they fully understand humans.”

“Well, bugger them,” Crawley said matter-of-factly. “What do they know? They’re not the ones who’ve been here on Earth for the past millennium.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes but smiled all the same. “I wouldn’t put it so crassly, but I do appreciate your support. The other angels, I don’t think they can comprehend the complexity of humans. It’s not always as simple as popping in, imparting a blessing, and popping back out. The blessing is far less likely to take if I don’t understand a bit about the human first and gain their trust. But as much as I’ve tried telling that to Gabriel and the other archangels, they still insist that I’m unnecessarily prolonging the process.”

Crawley nodded. “My lot don’t seem to get humans either. I just send a few reports their way saying that I’ve started a fire or stolen someone’s sheep, and they eat it up. Never even so much as send a follow-up asking how I’m doing or seeing if I need any help. Not so much as a ‘Hey, Crawley, we wanted to check in since it’s been a while. Tell us how we can support you. Help us help you.’”

He shook his head suddenly, as if surprised at his own honesty. He glanced over at Aziraphale, who was looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I just meant that I get it,” Crawley added, speaking a little too quickly. “I know what it’s like not to fit in and to wonder what you might have done to deserve it. But from where I’m sat, it doesn’t sound like you’ve done anything wrong at all. They’re just a bunch of self-righteous prats who don’t know how lucky they are that you got stationed on Earth instead of one of them.”

It was silent for a few seconds. Crawley began to fear that he had gone too far and was about to take it back when Aziraphale spoke.

“I appreciate you saying that,” he said quietly. “It means a lot.”

Crawley, deciding he had reached his emotional quota for the evening, stood up and readied himself to leave.

“I’m going to go back to sleep for a bit, angel.” He raised his arms above his head and yawned loudly to make a point. “Wake me up if anything happens?”

“Sleep well,” Aziraphale said with a nod.

Crawley started to walk away until he heard Aziraphale go, “Oh, and Crawley?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Crawley mumbled and wandered off in search of his bed and some space to think.

When Crawley emerged a few hours later, he wasn’t exactly sure what he expected to find. A small part of him was surprised not to see Aziraphale next to the fire where he had left him. That was fine, though. He had never given much thought to what Aziraphale did while he was asleep, but presumably, it didn’t involve waiting around for Crawley to wake up again.

Crawley made his way to the back of the cave where the wolves had been the night before. Considering how concerned Aziraphale had been for them, it would make sense that he had decided to keep an eye on them. However, he wasn’t prepared for the sight of the angel cuddling a small lump in his arms, cooing at it like it was a child.

Crawley rubbed his eyes. “Please, for the love of all that is unholy, tell me that you found a baby somewhere and that you’re not cuddling a wolf right now.”

Aziraphale looked up, startled. “Good morning to you, too,” he said, smiling. “How did you sleep?”

“Answer the question, Aziraphale,” Crawley said testily, taking a few careful steps closer. “Are you or are you not currently holding a wolf pup?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Well really, what else would I be holding?” He moved the edge of the blanket down and tilted the bundle ever so slightly towards Crawley. “Isn’t she adorable?”

"She is wild.” Crawley squinted at the tiny mass, which didn’t seem capable of doing much more than squirming at the moment. “Put her down.”

“She’s not wild!” Aziraphale exclaimed.

“Of course she is.” Crawley cast a look back to where Urbara, Urgir, and three other pups were nestled. “They all are. Put it down before you get yourself into trouble.”

“She’s not an it!” Aziraphale exclaimed again, more adamantly this time. “Besides,” he said, his eyebrow raised and a smug look pinned on his face, “if she were wild, would she let me hold her?”

“Her eyes are closed, and she can barely move,” Crawley shot back. “What options does she have?”

Aziraphale harrumphed and tilted his head towards the other wolves. “If it were truly an issue, they’d certainly have something to say about it, I think.”

“They’re probably just enchanted by your angelic aura!”

“They’re nothing of the sort.” Aziraphale wandered over to set the small bundle back next to the others. Urbara took the opportunity to nudge her nose into his hand, and Aziraphale stroked her gently behind the ears.

“Not her too,” Crawley groaned. “It’s one thing with the pups, but you can’t go befriending grown wolves.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Aziraphale said in a faux whisper. “He’s just grumpy when he gets up in the morning.”

With that, Crawley threw his hands in the air and made a hasty retreat.

Things didn’t improve from there. If anything, they got markedly worse.

The next morning, Crawley woke up to Aziraphale once again holding a wolf pup—a different one this time—and no amount of persuading could convince him to put it down. A couple of days later, he caught Aziraphale fussing with the wolves’ blankets (somehow, it had gone from one meagre rag to multiple blankets that were plusher than Crawley’s own), presumably imbuing them with some heavenly level of comfort. When he caught Aziraphale calling one of them Unu about two weeks later, he knew it was time to step in.

“I swear on all that is unholy, Aziraphale. This is one of the more terrible ideas you’ve ever had.” He looked at the wolf pup, which happened to be looking back at him. They’d opened their eyes only a day or so prior, and Crawley still wasn’t accustomed to having twelve eyes on him instead of the previous four. Not to mention that they were starting to wander around, meaning he suddenly had to be very careful not to trip over any small furry bodies.

“Oh hush, you,” Aziraphale chided. He stood with his hands on his hips and regarded Crawley with a stubborn tilt to his chin. “Just because you don’t know what it’s like to be kind—”

“No, I don’t,” Crawley cut him off. “Never said I was kind, nor do I want to be. Demon, remember?”

Aziraphale didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a very near thing. “Ah yes, how could I forget? You only mention it at least once a day.”

“You’re missing the point,” Crawley went on. “You can’t go giving them names. It’s bad enough that I let you name the two big ones—”

“Let me?” Aziraphale scoffed. “Oh honestly, demon, as if you could stop me.”

“—and yet here you are, getting attached to the other ones, which means it’s going to be even worse for you when we have to leave them behind.” He narrowed his eyes at Aziraphale. “You do know we’re leaving them behind, right?”

“Of course I do,” he said, though it sounded a bit unconvincing. “It’s a temporary assignment.” Then he tilted his chin slightly upward and set his jaw firmly. “I’m just making sure I complete my assignment.”

“I thought you were just supposed to make sure they lived long to breed.” Crawley gestured around the cave. “That part’s done.”

Aziraphale sniffed. “It is if you take it literally, I suppose. But I’ve never been one to shirk my duties, even though others might”—he raised an eyebrow at Crawley, who just scoffed—“so it only seems fit to ensure that this generation gets off to a good start.”

“Of course,” Crawley sneered. “What kind of angel would you be if you weren’t an overachiever? Guess I’ll leave you to it while I go and shirk my duties,” he added with a little more bite than he intended.

“Crawley…” Aziraphale started, but Crawley didn’t stick around long enough to hear how that sentence ended.

Crawley really had to put his foot down a few days later, however, when he found Aziraphale holding a tiny bottle as he nursed one of the pups in his arms.

“You can’t be serious,” Crawley said, his mouth agape. “Why in Hell’s name are you feeding it?”

Aziraphale didn’t deign to look up. “For the last time, Crawley, he’s not an it.”

“It’s a bloody liability, is what it is,” Crawley grumbled. “Feeding him, Aziraphale? Seriously?”

“I’m just giving his poor mother a break,” Aziraphale said, glaring at Crawley. “And please keep your voice down. She just finished getting the other ones to sleep.”

“Oh, did she?” Crawley sneered. “I bet it was easy, given all the help she’s been getting from a certain angel. Tell me, did your celestial harmonies play a role in this? What did you do, sing them a lullaby? Offer them some warm milk?”

Aziraphale either didn’t notice the sarcasm or deigned not to treat it as such. “A little bit of both, I suppose.”

“For the love of…” Crawley pinched the bridge of his nose. “Aziraphale, you’re going to make them dependent on you.”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Aziraphale said in the same even, measured tone. “They’re dependent on their mother and father. I’m simply lending a hand here and there.”

Crawley shook his head. “Not the pups, Urbara and Urgir! You can’t go around doing this kind of thing for them. What are they supposed to do when you’re not around?”

“I’m sure they’ll figure it out. They’re rather smart creatures, you know. Just the other day…”

It was probably rude of him to storm out like that, but Crawley didn’t care. All he knew was that he couldn’t take another second of watching Aziraphale with the wolves. He wasn’t sure why it grated on him so badly, and he didn’t really want to investigate that further. He simply wasn’t emotionally equipped to watch Aziraphale fawn over tiny creatures with such a radiant smile on his face.

Crawley might’ve been good at temptation, but he had nothing on Aziraphale when it came to torture.

Luckily for Crawley, he eventually found he was vindicated in his belief that treating the wolves with such kindness wasn’t the smartest of ideas. Today, after spending a couple of months together, it was finally time for them to leave the cave. Crawley found himself more torn at the idea than he ever imagined he’d be.

On one hand, he was more than ready to get away from the wolf family. They might’ve warmed to Aziraphale, but he still caught Urgir giving him dirty looks whenever he got within two feet of any of them. It didn’t help that the little ones somehow always managed to be underfoot, forcing him more than once to perform a miracle to keep from falling on his arse.

On the other hand, leaving the cave meant leaving Aziraphale behind. Maybe not at first, since they’d decided to head to the nearest village together, but soon enough. Crawley had gotten rather used to the arrangement and wasn’t ready to lose such a good debate partner. The last couple of weeks might have been a bit more tense, sure, but it was still better than wandering around the freezing cold by himself. But, the reality was that no matter how much Crawley secretly wanted to spend more time with Aziraphale, it just wasn’t meant to be.

At least he got the last word regarding the wolves.

What had started with, “They’re just coming with us for a couple hours or so until they find a new place to settle down,” had quickly turned into, “They just want to keep us company on the more difficult leg of the journey, Crawley. Surely they’ll leave us in a few days.” And yet, here they were, more than a week into the journey, and the little wolf family hadn’t gone anywhere.

“I told you this would happen,” Crawley grumbled for the 500th time. “But you just had to go and hold the wolves, didn’t you?”

“I’m sure this is just temporary,” Aziraphale insisted time and time again. “They just need some time to get used to the area.”

“Oh sure,” Crawley said, sarcasm dripping in every word. “Of course, the animals that were born and raised here need some time to get used to the area. Not like it’s bloody instinct or anything.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Please don’t swear in front of them.”

“Or what?” Crawley challenged. “Afraid they’re going to come after me? Worried you might’ve laid your angelic influence on a little too thick?”

“It’s just not polite,” was the response he got.

Eventually, long before Crawley was ready for it, the two of them spotted lights in the distance. After months in a cave and a couple of weeks on a journey, they were about to be among humans again. The gentle camaraderie between him and Aziraphale would give way to faux animosity, and they’d stay out of each other’s way for another three hundred years or so.

All that stood between them and the former status quo was another day’s travel. Crawley wasn’t prepared for how out of sorts he felt about it. He was thousands of years old, for Someone’s sake. It should’ve taken a lot longer than a few months for him to get used to a routine, but somehow, everything was just a bit easier where Aziraphale was involved. The angel had a knack for lowering his defences.

“I think we should rest here for the night,” he said apropos of nothing.

Aziraphale eyed him strangely. “It’s scarcely past one in the afternoon. There’s still plenty of time to travel before it gets dark. In fact, we’re likely to be there in only a couple of hours.”

“Yeah but...” Crawley scrambled for something to say, looking around wildly, “the wolves! We haven’t talked about the wolves!”

“We’ve done nothing but talk about the wolves,” Aziraphale retorted. “As you’ve so querulously pointed out for the past few weeks.”

“But…but…” Crawley dug around for a solid explanation and came up short, eventually landing on, “We haven’t discussed what to do with them.”

Aziraphale stopped and looked at him. “What in Heaven’s name do you mean? You’ve been telling me off for interacting with them this whole time, and now you want to discuss their future plans?” He narrowed his eyes, then added, “What’s gotten into you, Crawley?”

Crawley could feel sweat start to bead at the nape of his neck and cursed himself for it. What kind of demon couldn’t control their autonomic functions? What was he, a human? But the more he thought about how to respond to Aziraphale’s question, the more he started to sweat. It wouldn’t be long before Aziraphale noticed.

“It’s just, enghh,” Crawley scratched his neck, trying to buy himself a few seconds to think. “I mean, we haven’t really talked—er, I mean we have, but maybe not—we haven’t talked as much as we should have?”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow but said nothing, content to watch Crawley flail around for an explanation.

“I mean, they’re still following us, right?” He gestured frantically at the wolves, who were also watching the charade with mild amusement. “We can’t just let them follow us forever. We have to do something with them.”

Aziraphale hummed in agreement. “I suppose you’re right.” He was still eyeing Crawley suspiciously, and Crawley could feel sweat start to collect on his forehead. He couldn’t dream of explaining to Aziraphale why it was so important that they spent one more night together, but it suddenly felt like the most important thing in the world.

Unfortunately, Aziraphale didn’t get the memo. He started walking again, chatting idly as he did. “I suppose we’ll just have to see what the wolves want to do once we get to the settlement,” he said. “Perhaps there are other humans who would be willing to take care of them.”

Crawley found himself aghast for more reasons than one. “You want humans to take care of them?” he squawked, catching up to him. “You can’t do that!”

“I don’t see why not,” he sniffed. “They’d be good for each other, I think.”

Crawley threw his hands up in the air. “How? How could they possibly be good for each other? They’re mortal enemies!”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “I think that’s overstating it a bit.”

“No, really,” Crawley insisted, stomping angrily alongside him. “Tell me why this isn’t destined to be an utter disaster.”

“Perhaps they’ll look out for one another,” Aziraphale continued, not meeting Crawley’s eyes. “Maybe they’ll realise they have more in common with one another than they thought.”

Crawley’s arms fell to his sides, as he caught Aziraphale’s meaning. “I suppose stranger things have happened.”

They walked in silence for several long minutes. Finally, Crawley decided to try one last time. There had to be something he could do to get Aziraphale to stay the night.

“Don’t you think they’ll miss you?” he ventured. “Maybe we should stop to give you time to say goodbye.”

“I think delaying it will only make it harder.” He caught Crawley’s eye and added solemnly, “I just have to hope that they know how much our time together meant to me, no matter how short it was.”

Crawley swallowed around a lump in his throat. “I’m sure they do, angel.”

5,000 YEARS LATER

“This looks fine to me, angel. Just sit down already, would you? You’re making me nervous.”

“But it’s too rocky,” Aziraphale pouted. “Surely the spot over there would be more suitable?”

“We’ve tried over there,” Crowley said, trying valiantly not to roll his eyes. “You said it was too muddy. And the spot before that was too crowded, even though it’s less than five metres away from where we’re currently standing.”

Aziraphale stuck out his lower lip and gave Crowley a sad look, forcing Crowley to release the eye roll that he’d so carefully withheld for the last ten minutes.

“Angel, you’re just going to have to make do with this spot.” He spared a glance at Aziraphale, whose lip had somehow jutted out further. Crowley rolled his eyes again for good measure before adding, “I’ll miracle the ground flat if it’s that important to you.”

“Oh, would you?” Aziraphale beamed so brightly that Crowley briefly worried he’d somehow foregone his sunglasses.

Crowley snapped his fingers, and the ground immediately found itself devoid of rocks, mud, and anything that might leave a stain. He then produced a gingham blanket—Aziraphale loved the classics—and laid it out with a flourish. Aziraphale set down the basket he was carrying so that he could clap his hands together as if Crowley had done something truly amazing and not something the both of them could do with little more than a thought.

Crowley plopped down immediately and held his hand out. Aziraphale took it and sat much more gingerly, shuffling back and forth a bit before settling himself fully.

“Meet your expectations?” Crowley asked with a smile.

“Absolutely.” Aziraphale gave Crowley’s hand one last firm squeeze before letting go to rifle through the basket. There was far too much food for the two of them, not that it would even think of going bad, of course. There were cucumber and watercress sandwiches; several mini quiches; savoury sausage rolls, hummus with carrots, celery sticks, and slices of pita; fresh strawberries coated with the richest dark chocolate Crowley could find; and an almond pear tart from Aziraphale’s favourite bakery.

“This spread looks delectable, my dear.”Aziraphale gave Crowley a soft smile, one which Crowley returned without meaning to. It was kind of refreshing, how far the two of them had come. Somehow, after 6,000 years, they had still found themselves in each other’s orbit, only growing closer as the years went by. Crowley couldn’t deny how much enjoyed it, nor did he want to. He was happy, and that was a lovely thing to be.

“I’m glad.” Crowley pulled out a delightful white wine that was perfectly chilled in spite of its relatively long tenure in the warm summer heat at the bottom of a picnic basket. He poured a bit into two stemless glasses, then handed one to Aziraphale wordlessly.

“Shall we make a toast?” Aziraphale asked, his eyes bright.

“If you want.” Crowley picked up his own glass and held it close to Aziraphale’s. “What should we toast to?”

Aziraphale hummed for a moment before smiling again, a certain gleam in his eye. “How about to the world?”

“Sure, angel.” He hoisted his glass a little higher, then said, “To the world.”

They clinked their glasses and took a sip before looking back at each other. Aziraphale was still smiling but with a slight blush that tinged the apples of his cheeks. Crowley was smiling as well, but it was a quieter, more soppy thing.

Crowley opened his mouth to speak but lost the words almost immediately when he noticed Aziraphale’s eyes flit down to his lips. Was this really it? After 6,000 years, was this how it happened—in a park on a sunny Sunday afternoon that was the anniversary of nothing?

He tried again. “Aziraphale, I—I wanted to know if maybe you’d, er, be interested in—I mean, if you’d want to, hnghhhh…” he trailed off, unable to find what he wanted to say.

Aziraphale didn’t seem put off by it in the slightest. He simply set his glass to the side and smiled wider. “If you’re trying to say what I think you’re trying to say, then, well…” He leaned forward a bit, carefully watching Crowley’s reaction.

Crowley’s eyes widened, his sclera completely yellow. He set his own glass down, gulped heavily, and caught Aziraphale’s eyes again. Then, he leaned forward ever so slightly, keeping an eye on Aziraphale’s movements as he moved in by mere millimetres.

They were only a hair’s breadth apart, so close that Crowley could hear the tiniest of inhales from Aziraphale. He closed his eyes and moved to close the distance between them, ready to feel Aziraphale’s lips on his for the first time in millennia, ready to finally move their relationship to the next level, and—

Instead of being met with Aziraphale’s lips, Crowley found himself met with a sudden shriek. He opened his eyes, slightly concerned that he misread the situation, and was alarmed to see a relatively large dog in Aziraphale’s lap.

“Toby, no!” cried a voice, presumably that of the owner. A small woman with dark brown hair suddenly appeared on the picnic blanket and was frantically trying to pull the dog off of Aziraphale.

“I’m so incredibly sorry, oh my god,” she continued, tugging as she did. “He saw a squirrel and bolted so quickly I couldn’t keep a hold of his lead. Toby, stop!”

“It’s quite alright,” Aziraphale said, though his face said it was anything but. He looked at Crowley with pleading eyes, and Crowley had to bite back the urge to burst out laughing.

“C’mere, Toby,” Crowley said, grabbing hold of what he now realised was a large golden retriever puppy, and gently lifting him up and off Aziraphale. He set him to the side, where the owner was still furiously pulling at the lead. Toby ignored her and happily wandered over to the picnic basket, promptly sticking his head inside and helping himself to a sausage roll.

“I am so sorry,” Toby’s owner added again, trying and failing to wrench the sausage roll from the puppy’s jaws. “I’ll pay for your cleaning bill—and for the roll.”

“There really is no need,” Aziraphale said with a somewhat strained smile. “Please just enjoy the rest of your walk.”

Crowley reached over and scratched Toby on the head, before gently patting him on the rear. “Off you get, you big oaf.”

Toby bounded away happily, yanking his owner along with him. “Sorry again!” she exclaimed in a voice that rapidly faded into the distance.

Crowley took a moment to survey the scene. Aziraphale’s wine was splattered all over the blanket, and the few items remaining at the bottom of the basket had toppled out unceremoniously. Aziraphale’s trousers were covered with mud, and there were two small marks across his dress shirt where Toby’s claws had gotten hold. Worst of all was the angel’s expression, which was completely unreadable. His stone-grey eyes were fixated on Crowley, his mouth a sharp thin line.

“You okay there, angel?” Crowley asked. He snapped his fingers, setting everything to rights even before Aziraphale had to ask. “No lasting damage done, it looks like.”

Aziraphale’s mouth grew tighter and tighter. Crowley gulped nervously. “Uh, Aziraphale? Something wrong?”

When Aziraphale still said nothing, Crowley debated whether or not he should apologise for almost kissing him. Maybe that was the issue. Maybe Aziraphale hadn’t actually had any intention of kissing Crowley and had been leaning in to wipe a smudge off his face, or something. Maybe he hadn’t leaned at all, and Crowley had just imagined it. Maybe…

“Look,” Crowley started, “I’m sorry if—”

He was interrupted immediately by Aziraphale breaking into peals of laughter. Tears rushed down his cheeks, and the sight of it lifted the load Crowley didn’t realise had settled on his chest. In an instant, Crowley found himself cackling as well, unable to hold it back thanks to the surge of adrenaline leaving his body at the same time. For a few moments, the two of them continued laughing riotously, coming to an occasional stop before losing it again when they made eye contact. It reminded Crowley of another time, long ago, when Aziraphale was also caught in a fit of giggles and couldn’t stop laughing.

Come to think of it, there were other similarities between now and then as well.

“Oh, dogs,” Aziraphale murmured when he was finally able to speak. “Such messy, chaotic creatures. I suppose it makes sense, given that you were the one responsible for domesticating them, you know.”

“I’m responsible?” Crowley looked affronted, which was undermined a bit by the lingering tinge of red on his cheeks. “You’re the one that insisted on holding the damn things! All I did was make sure you didn’t get your hand bitten off by Urgir. You can’t blame me for what just happened.”

“I beg your pardon?” Aziraphale chuckled seemingly knowingly, though Crowley wasn’t sure what the angel thought he knew. “You were the one that miracled up the cave in the first place. You gave them shelter. Of course they were destined to be fond of humans after that.”

Crowley scoffed. “First of all, not a human. Second of all, according to those standards, all of the animals on Noah’s ark would’ve been domesticated. I don’t see lions in any hurry to get cuddly with humans, do you?”

“That was an extenuating circumstance,” Aziraphale insisted. “Not to mention the meat I saw you conjure up just outside the cave.” He put his hands on his hips and looked far too pleased for Crowley’s comfort. “Well? Tell me how that didn’t convince them to keep coming back?”

Crowley threw his hands up in frustration. “It was outside the cave! And they didn’t know it came from me. For all they know, it could’ve rained down from the Heavens like that manna did.”

Aziraphale sniffed. “I have to think that had far more of an impact on them than any of my actions did.”

“You bottle-fed the pups!” Crowley exclaimed.

“Only to give their poor mother a break!” Aziraphale retorted. “That hardly counts.”

“You played with them,” Crowley went on. “You sang to them. In fact, I’m surprised you didn’t tuck them in to sleep. Absolutely no way anything I did even remotely compares to that.”

“I suppose we were both responsible for the outcome of that species,” Aziraphale relented.

Crowley was about to argue the point further until he noticed the look on Aziraphale’s face. His eyes were again fixated on Crowley, though he was rather pointedly staring at his lips.

“Uh, Aziraphale?” Crowley asked, not entirely sure what his question was.

Aziraphale looked back up at Crowley’s eyes and turned red. He immediately looked down at the picnic blanket and started fidgeting with it. “I apologise, my dear,” he said, still not meeting Crowley’s eyes. “It just occurred to me that we were interrupted in a rather—ah—inopportune moment.”

“Ergh, yeah, um, I suppose we were rather…” Crowley started. “Uh, I mean, I think you and I were, um, I’d still be interested if y’know, you were, er, or maybe I should just…” he trailed off, his eyes pleading with Aziraphale to have pity on him.

Aziraphale stifled a giggle with one hand. “Quite,” he said, his eyes shining at Crowley. “I mean, I’m still quite interested.”

“Ngk, okay then,” Crowley said, the colour on his cheeks turning into a full-out blush. “How should we, uh...I mean do you want me to, I don’t know, er, should I come closer or—mmph!”

Evidently tired of waiting, Aziraphale’s hands had made their way to Crowley’s lapels. Crowley didn’t have time to consider what was happening before he found himself being tugged forward, his lips crashing into Aziraphale’s.

Once he caught on to the current situation, he dove in fully, pressing his lips against Aziraphale’s and trying to instil the vast breadth of his feelings into the kiss. Though neither of them was particularly experienced, they managed to pick it up quickly and fell into a perfect rhythm, one kiss after another interrupted only by quick gasps of air. Eventually, they pulled away from one another slowly with matching besotted smiles. Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s neck and tucked his face into his shoulder.

“Been wanting to do that forever,” Crowley grumbled. “Was kind of worried that Toby had killed the moment.”

“Toby might’ve delayed the moment, but I’m not sure anything could have kept me from doing that,” Aziraphale said, rubbing his hand down Crowley’s back soothingly. He gave Crowley a kiss on the cheek before pulling back.

“Glad to hear it, angel.” He winked at Aziraphale before gesturing to the rest of their picnic. “Now, can I tempt you to enjoy some of this delicious food?”

“Temptation accomplished,” Aziraphale said, reaching for a sandwich. “Although, my dear,” he said suddenly, raising an eyebrow at Crowley, “I do wonder if you haven’t been secretly trying to domesticate me.”

Crowley smirked. “Is it working?”

Aziraphale chuckled, then leaned in and kissed him again. “My silly demon,” he said as he pulled back, “that’s certainly not the reason I’ve been coming back all these years.”