Chapter Text
Crowley’s fingers moved in a fluid dance. His left hand lifted as he performed the staccato notes, his darkened vision ever so focused on the sheet music. The powerful sound from the other percussionists rumbled beneath his feet like an earthquake. He wondered if the other players could feel it too.
He noticed the first violinist standing at his feet from the corner of his eye. The ocean of music faded. A gentle melody replaced it. The violin’s sound rang through the auditorium, singing soprano-like notes. The violinist bowed longingly. Crowley saw him move as he did this. He was impressed. They’ve had this piece for a month, but the violinist seemed as if he had owned it for years.
Eventually, the violin solo was accompanied by a quiet sea of flutes. Crowley’s gaze shifted to the conductor, Gabriel, watching the swaying of his baton. He looked back to his music. 3 measures left. His fingers hovered over the keys, listening for his cue. Before he could join in again, the orchestra paused. He wanted to groan, but Crowley resisted.
Gabriel flipped back a page of his score and faced the soloist. Despite the far distance from the podium Crowley had, he could see the prideful smirk held. He hated it. What was he going to say to this violinist? Something overly critical? Hurtful, even?
Gabriel let out a sigh, frowning. “Well, Aziraphale, mind replaying those slurs for me?” he asked.
The violinist’s, Aziraphale , head fell low. “Oh, yes,” he replied. He brought his violin to his chin, placed his bow on the string, and bellowed the section Gabriel requested. With a snap of his fingers, Aziraphale stopped. He was startled by the sudden snap.
“ Aziraphale, ” Gabriel insisted harshly. “You’re rushing on the slurs. Slow down, will you?”
Aziraphale gazed at him apologetically. He played the section once more, obediently fixing his errors. Gabriel grinned, satisfied with his improvement. “Amazing! I knew you had it in you,” commented Gabriel as he patted Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale chuckled nervously.
Crowley lowered his head to an appropriate level, hoping to move onward with the piece. He held sympathy for Aziraphale. He barely knew the man. Their relationship was nothing more than professional. But he didn’t enjoy seeing Gabriel treat him disrespectfully.
Gabriel lifted his baton. The orchestra shifted to their playing positions by his command. They played the section once more. This time, Crowley could join in instead of sitting in boredom while listening to the conductor give critiques. Not that being critiqued was bad, but there comes a time when you want to move on.
The piece concluded. Gabriel hit the podium with his baton, making a loud smacking noise. “Well, this was a good run-through,” he began, “but we don’t want to be good. We want to be great. ” Crowley rolled his eyes. “I implore all of you to practice the sections we reviewed. That’s all. Have a good evening.”
With a rustle of musicians moving to pack away their instruments, Crowley put his sheets away in a folder. He sighed, relieved the rehearsal was over. Being a part of the symphony wasn’t something he aspired to do; he had to do something with all those years of music school and piano lessons. He could’ve been a teacher. Crowley liked kids enough to handle them for 6 hours a day.
“Ah, Anthony.”
Quickly, Crowley turned around with tense shoulders. “Gah, Gabriel!” he yelped.
Gabriel lightly chuckled. “No need to be so surprised.”
“Still scared me.”
“Anyway, I have an important part for you and someone else,” announced Gabriel.
Crowley cocked an eyebrow. “And that is…?”
“A duet, of course,” he replied.
Crowley wanted to groan. A duet? In a symphonic orchestra? That was certainly unusual. But he couldn’t lie that such a request piqued his curiosity. Let alone, he was mostly curious about who he was doing this duet with.
Gabriel held a few sheets of music and handed them to Crowley. He flipped through the pages, skimming the notes and playing them in his head. His gaze went to Gabriel. He caught a glimpse of a person walking and then standing beside Gabriel. With hair almost as pure as snow and a gentle smile, Crowley knew who he was—the first violinist, Aziraphale. He should have known.
“How about you two make some introductions while I get Aziraphale’s sheet music?” suggested Gabriel. He stepped away from Crowley’s piano.
Aziraphale set down his violin case beside the stool. “Er, I’m Aziraphale. And you must be Anthony, yes?”
Crowley shifted slightly in his seat. “Preferably Crowley.”
“Oh,” said Aziraphale sheepishly. “I apologize for the misunderstanding.”
“Don’t feel sorry,” Crowley remarked.
Aziraphale let out a laugh. He fiddled with the golden ring on his pinky finger, twisting and turning it from left to right. “May I ask why that’s the name you prefer?”
Crowley glanced down at the piano, light shining off the black keys. “Always liked it better. Rolls off the tongue nicely,” he replied.
Aziraphale nodded in understanding. Gabriel returned with a few pages and gave them to Aziraphale. “Thank you,” he replied as he received the pages.
Gabriel grinned. “This is a project the two of you will focus on. Make sure to practice individually and together.”
“What about rehearsals with the orchestra?” asked Aziraphale.
“Don’t worry about that.” Gabriel rubbed his shoulder. Aziraphale winced, seemingly embarrassed. “I’ll have it all figured out.”
Crowley’s impatience was revealing itself. Not only did he have more music to work on, but he will have to make time to work with someone who was a stranger. And it will take more time to get to know Aziraphale. Well, maybe he didn’t have to know him in a friendly way. They don’t have to be friends. It could be the same— the way it has been. Professional with a small step. That would be reasonable, right?
He couldn’t lie that Gabriel was slowly getting increasingly on his nerves. He couldn’t handle another second being in the same room as him.
Gabriel said his goodbyes to the two, leaving Crowley and Aziraphale alone. Crowley avoided eye contact with Aziraphale for a second, eyeing the open seats on the stage.
“So,” Aziraphale began, “I suppose we should get in contact. After all, Gabriel is expecting us to schedule our rehearsals.”
Crowley shrugged. “Yeah.”
Aziraphale set down his violin case and fished in his trousers’ pockets for his cellphone. He handed it to Crowley. “I’ll assume you know where to put in your phone number.”
Crowley took his phone. He typed in the numbers of his phone, then returned it to Aziraphale. “There,” he said. “Just text me and I’ll add back.”
“Of course!” Aziraphale beamed. “I will speaking to you soon, Crowley.”
Crowley scanned him for a short moment. “Bye.”
Aziraphale waved goodbye, letting down his arm as he stepped off the stage and to the doors. Something appeared missing on him, but Crowley couldn’t lay his finger on it. Perhaps he had been too distracted by the fact Aziraphale’s phone case was tartan of all things.
Crowley shifted his gaze to the right and noticed a white violin case sitting across from the piano chair. His eyes widened in realization.
Aziraphale had left his violin. And that wouldn’t be such a good look on a concertmaster.