Work Text:
50 BC
Aziraphale took a deep breath and sat down. He awkwardly put his robe over his legs, he didn't want to freeze. He felt damp grass beneath him. An owl made sounds in the distance. He heard the rustling of trees in the wind. He could even hear a river rushing in the distance.
Hearing and feeling were the senses he was currently using. The one he couldn't use at the moment was his sense of sight. It was completely black in front of his eyes. It was night and not a single star lit up the sky. It was too cloudy for that. He raised his hand in front of his face, he couldn't even see it.
During the night, the inhabitants of the village a few metres from the meadow where the angel was sitting had put out their fire. It was summer, no need to keep warming flames burning at night.
So everything was dark. Pitch black. So deep black that it felt like everything weighed more.
Aziraphale sighed, he would like to see what was in front of him. How close the animals were that kept making noises. Could they see him?
The angel pulled the fabric on his body even tighter. He felt uncomfortable. He no longer wanted to be here. But who was he to make such decisions himself? He had a duty here, to bless a pregnant woman. That was harder than he had thought. He couldn't get to her. Tomorrow he would. Tomorrow in daylight he would fulfil his mission, then he could leave again. Tomorrow. He just had to get through this black night.
Suddenly he heard footsteps. Aziraphale listened to see where they were coming from. The footsteps sounded like a person. They were coming from behind. The blond didn't bother to turn round, as he wouldn't see anything anyway.
The person came closer and Aziraphale's human heartbeat quickened. He was easy target here. He had heard the villagers talking about a murderer.
Why did such scary stories always come to mind at times like this? Why did people always imagine horror scenarios when it was dark? Darkness made people afraid, why? Nothing was really different from daylight. It was just that you couldn't see danger coming so quickly, which was scary. Aziraphale couldn't deny that. He wasn't afraid. He told himself that. He simply didn't feel like disincorporating. It wouldn't fit in with his schedule.
The footsteps came closer and closer, but became slower. "Angel, is that you?"
Aziraphale's heart stopped, but then continued to beat dutifully. Crowley . He had to stifle a sigh of relief. It was only Crowley. Perhaps he should have been even more afraid. After all, the Demon was his enemy. The villain in his story. But all Aziraphale felt was... a strange lightness. Loneliness crept away.
Crowley came closer. "It's you, those blonde locks are rarely found anywhere else."
Now Aziraphale did turn round, he frowned. But he saw nothing but complete blackness. "You can see me?"
"Good evening too Aziraphale." Crowley mocked him, "Of course I can see you, you're not invisible. You have a body and it's not as green as the grass you're sitting on, so you're not well camouflaged. You're sitting in an open space, not behind a rock or anything."
Aziraphale followed his voice and it travelled and was beside him by the end of the sentence. Crowley must have sat down next to him. Aziraphale wanted him to keep talking, so he knew where Crowley was. "Good observation, what else do you see?" He said it half-jokingly, of course. He couldn't pay his enemy a compliment.
Crowley remained silent for a second. Aziraphale would do anything to see his face at that moment. He was probably frowning, a little crease between his eyes that he always got when he couldn't quite grasp something.
Something rustled and a knee bumped into Aziraphale's knee. That sent a few lightning bolts through his body. Crowley had probably just sat down differently, but Aziraphale hadn't seen that, so the touch was unexpected. That was the only reason the touch stirred his insides... the only reason.
"I see..." Crowely finally continued, "I see that you have goose bumps, that your head is turned in my direction, but you're not looking me in the eye, you're looking past me. With any other creature, I wouldn't have found that funny. Nobody likes to look me in the eye. But you usually do."
Aziraphale swallowed and turned his head forwards.
"Which only leads me to the conclusion that you can't see as well as I can at night and in the dark."
He had hit the mark with that. That and that the darkness seemed to crush him. The blackness enveloped him like a heavy blanket. It pressed on his organs. It was difficult for Aziraphale to find his bearings.
He wrapped his arms around himself, searching for direction. "Yes. I can't see at all. Just pure blackness." He had to pull himself together not to reveal more. The darkness drew truths out of him. It was said that people revealed more about themselves at night, that they could tell more and more honestly than in daylight. Perhaps this was because they automatically became tired when it was dark and were more careless with their secrets. But maybe it was also because it was easier not to have to look a person in the eye when you were exposing your innermost feelings.
None of this suited Aziraphale. He wasn't tired. And he didn't mind looking Crowley in the eye.
"What are you doing here?" Crowley asked. His voice had become quieter, even softer somehow. But Aziraphale could only have imagined that.
"I'm here to bless the Chief's wife. She is expecting twins," Aziraphale said matter-of-factly.
"That's not what I meant. What are you doing here. Why are you sitting here?"
"I'm waiting for the sun to rise so I can do my job." I'm trying not to choke on the darkness.
"Okay." Crowley said simply.
According to the script, Aziraphale should now also ask the Demon what he was doing here, why he was in this village. Before he could do so, there was another rustling beside him. Then Crowley's arm, at least Aziraphale assumed it was an arm, brushed against his side. And Crowley's knee touched him again. This time neither of them made any effort to break the connection.
That small touch gave Aziraphale so much more than he could ever admit. It kept him grounded and made him feel that he was not alone in this endless nothingness. The blackness was not all that existed, there was more beyond the endless void.
"Can you-" Aziraphale's voice broke. He cleared his throat, "can you describe what is around us?"
Crowley said nothing for a few endless seconds, during which Aziraphale regretted his words and wanted to turn back. Then he began to say, "There is a lone tree on my side. It has sprawling branches that reach for the sky."
Aziraphale concentrated on the sound of his voice and tried to visualise his descriptions. He closed his eyes as if it made any difference. It made no difference. But his eyes were no longer restlessly searching for something to see and focus on. When he closed them, they burned, as if they were too dry because he had left them too wide open for too long.
"The meadow we're sitting on stretches out wide. Almost like a soft green sea. The individual stalks don't stand still, but sway gently back and forth. Here and there, colourful flowers poke their heads out of the greenery. Oh, and an owl is flying past to your left."
Crowley's vivid descriptions softened his voice. Aziraphale would never have thought that a demon could be so gentle.
"Can you visualise it?"
Aziraphale cleared his throat, "Yes." His head began to spin slightly. He didn't know how this was even possible, as he couldn't see anything at all.
Crowley was so close. Aziraphale was supposed to put distance between them, but everything about him pulled him closer to the warm body next to him. He wanted to rest his head on Crowley's shoulder, but that would be dangerous territory for several reasons. Firstly, he couldn't see exactly where Crowley's shoulder was and secondly, what if he flinched and left?
"What now?" Crowley snapped him out of his thoughts. "That's all I can see, apart from the two of us. We're sitting on the unfortunately very cold green meadow, which makes our clothes dirty. Earthy and grassy."
"Good idea, describe what you're wearing." It was only after Aziraphale had said this that he realised how ambiguous it sounded.
"Your ears have gone all red Angel." There was a smirk in Crolwey's voice. Aziraphale didn't need to see it to know it was there.
"You can see that?" Embarrassed, he turned his head in another direction, even though he knew it wouldn't do any good.
"Yes, I can." and then he said dryly, "I'm not wearing anything."
Aziraphale's head jerked in his direction, "What?" he said too loudly. "Aren't you cold?"
Crowley laughed "that's the only thing you have to say about it? It was a joke, I'm wearing something."
Aziraphale snorted in amusement. That wretched Demon.
"No need to roll your eyes like that Angel." The smirk could still be felt in Crowley's voice. "Ah, and now you're smiling," he paused for a moment and then said more quietly, "the first time you've smiled all night."
Aziraphale lowered his head and frowned. "Stop messing around Serpent."
"All right, all right." Aziraphale imagined Crowley raising his hands innocently. "I'm wearing a black tunic that comes down to my knees. It's made of linen and cotton. Over the tunic I have a dark red cloak to keep me warmer. I fastened it with a small black brooch that I found on the floor a few days ago. Well, maybe I stole it from someone who put it to one side. Under the tunic I'm wearing trousers that come down to my ankles. I'm wearing sandals that are laced to my feet, very stylish I tell you." He paused for breath and Aziraphale had the feeling he was getting even closer, he felt the next words as a breeze on his cheek. "So overall I look very good. Just like always. I hope you can visualise it well."
And how Aziraphale could. He didn't agree with Crowley, even if he wanted to, he didn't want to stroke his ego any more.
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes and Aziraphale had to admit that he could breathe more easily again. That the darkness no longer suffocated him so much. Crowley at his side and his words had made it better.
He allowed it for a few minutes. This indescribable feeling that always overwhelmed him when he came across Crowley in the most random places. This feeling that he felt no where else. That set him on fire without burning him. That he sometimes needed like a dehydrated person needed water.
Right now Crowley was light in the darkness. No, that wasn't true, Crowley wasn't light, Crowley didn't glow. He was just as dark as the night. And yet he made the night easier, lighter. Not brighter, but more bearable. Easier.
He listened to Crowley's steady breathing close to him. He breathed in the same rhythm as himself. He wondered who had adapted to whom. Or did they always breathe to the same beat? Did their hearts beat to the same rhythm?
"I love the night." Crowley interrupted the silence.
That was probably better, Aziraphale thought. Who knows where else his mind would have wandered.
Crowley was brave, he continued speaking. "The night is sometimes more vivid and colourful than the day could ever be." He cleared his throat.
Aziraphale hoped he would continue speaking. He was genuinely curious about his interlocutor's train of thought. But he didn't continue. Aziraphale had to encourage him. "What do you mean exactly?"
Crowley moved next to him. The air stirred. For a moment, Aziraphale was afraid Crowley had stood up, but when he spoke the next words, he was still just as close. "The stars." That was all he said.
Aziraphale could sense that Crowley wasn't even close to saying everything that was buzzing around in his head. A stone formed in his stomach. He wanted to know what Crowley was thinking. What he felt. How he perceived things. That was dangerous. He knew, so he didn't ask further, remained silent.
"Besides," Crowley clapped his hands and raised his voice, making it sound more playful, "besides, one sleeps at night. I love sleep."
"Sleep," Aziraphale snorted, "aren't you afraid of missing something?"
"Well, if something important happens, I'll find out sooner or later."
Then something suddenly changed. At first Aziraphale thought his eyes were playing tricks on him or that they had become accustomed to the black after the hours of darkness. He began to recognize shadows around him. Silhouettes. Trees. The meadow. Crowley .
Aziraphale only saw his outline, nothing else. No facial expression. His gaze was straight ahead.
The sun was rising. Aziraphale exhaled, long and deep. He let the stifling night out of his lungs.
"Finally," whispered the angel. He saw the shadow next to him stiffen. They sat next to each other
for a few more minutes. They waited together until the sun came out.
Slowly, very slowly, it crept out over the horizon and dappled the sky in various shades of orange.
The sun filled the sky and everything else with light.
Aziraphale looked around. Why did the green of the meadow seem brighter and more beautiful to him than it had before that night? Without the darkness of the night, there was no telling how brilliantly bright the day could be.
"Very well, then we can get on with our tasks now." Crowley jumped to his feet.
Aziraphale quickly took his eyes off the green of nature and looked at Crowley. He was wearing exactly what he had described a few hours ago. The tunic clung to his slender body and the cloak wrapped around his shoulders like a heavy blanket. It swung and glided elegantly in the air as the Demon turned around.
"No, wait." Aziraphale stood up. Briefly wobbly and clumsy on his feet, he ran after Crowley with quick steps. An unpleasant premonition spread through his stomach. Gone was the relief at the dawn of a new day.
When he had caught up with the Demon, he walked around him and stood in front of him. Looked into his face. He saw special golden eyes staring at him. Crowley wanted to scare him, to intimidate him.
That would not work.
Aziraphale's own eyes grew wide, he scrutinized Crowley's face and tried to suppress a shocked intake of breath. He failed. He drew in a sharp breath, causing Crowley to avert his gaze.
"Dear, what happened?" The endarment was out of his mouth before he could stop it. His thoughts were spinning.
Crowley's Adam's apple bounced up and down in his throat. He swallowed hard. Then he lifted his chin, as if bracing himself, and turned his head back to Aziraphale.
The right side of his face was swollen and had a reddish tinge, some areas had burst open and small blisters were forming. There were blue and green lines around his eye and he could only open it fully with difficulty.
Aziraphale's eyes jumped from wound to wound. His heart burned, just as Crowley's face must have burned.
"Who?" the blond whispered, "who did this to you?"
Crowley's nostrils moved, he pursed his lips as if he were weighing things up. "It's nothing angel.
Just a few scratches."
That wasn't even close to what was asked. Aziraphale's hand jerked upwards. His fingers itched to touch Crowley.
Crowley took a step back. Aziraphale's hand hung awkwardly in the air. His stomach dropped and he lowered his hand again. Crowley had backed away, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt him more.
"The whole night? You've been so hurt for the last few hours and you haven't said anything. That's not fair, I didn't see." The two were still standing on the field, a few meters from where they had been sitting all night. Why did Aziraphale feel betrayed? He had no right to. Why did his heart ache? "I spilled my guts to you, I shared my fear with you and you won't even tell me that you're in pain yourself?"
Crowley shook his head, "That's not what happened. I owe you nothing angel."
Now it was Aziraphale who stumbled back a step. The distance between them grew bigger.
Not just physically.
"Why don't you heal yourself?" Aziraphale knew the answer to this question. He wanted to hear it from him.
"Wounds inflicted on me in and by hell I cannot heal myself." Crowley formulated it as if he were reading it out of a manual.
"Why?"
"Those are the rules," Crowley said dryly.
"That's not what I mean, I mean-"
"I know."
What had Crowley done to upset the demons so much that they went after him like that? It had to have been something ... good. Something good. A shiver ran down Aziraphale's spine.
Crowley started walking again, towards the village. Aziraphale tried to make peace with Crowley not telling him and went after him.
When they arrived in the village, they stopped at a small fountain. This is where their paths should part.
Undecided what to say, if they should say anything, they just stood there and listened to the rippling water.
Crowley put his head back. Aziraphale followed his gaze and looked up at the sky. It was overcast. It would certainly rain today.
"Look," Crowley said, pointing to something behind and above Aziraphale. The angel turned, not knowing what he is supposed to look at, until Crowley said, "There's a patch of blue sky back there. Maybe you can see the stars the next night when the clouds clear away completely."
Aziraphale saw the small patch of blue sky, uncovered by clouds. A smile crept onto his lips.
Crowley said this to ease his fear that the next night would be so dark again.
He turned back to Crowley and looked at him. Something in his chest jumped excitedly. The redhead was still looking up at the sky. So Aziraphale took a few seconds to look at him unashamedly. "I pray for it," he then whispered.
Crowley looked at him, "huh, for what?"
So that they will never hurt you like this again. That you will always be there when I'm afraid in the dark. "That the stars can be seen tonight."
But suddenly the thought of a pitch-black night didn't feel so bad. As long as Crowley was by his side, nothing would happen to him.