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The garden had never sounded like this before.
Rain itself was not unfamiliar. Aziraphale had experienced gentle showers drifting through Eden more than once. But this was something else entirely.
The air felt charged and restless, as though all the energy on earth was converging to this one spot. A low murmur rolled across the sky, deep and distant. The angel paused beneath the trees, head tilted, listening.
“Curious,” he murmured.
The sky darkened with clouds folding over one another in slow, ominous motion. Rain began, steady and insistent. It struck the canopy above in sharp, wet smacks. Aziraphale shivered as it dampened his robes and wings.
Then the sky tore open.
A jagged flash of white split the heavens. Aziraphale gasped. He had never seen such light, so fierce and sudden. The Almighty must have been tetchy this morning. A heartbeat later, the thunder came. It crashed across the garden like a great rolling wave, vast enough to tremble through the ground beneath him.
Aziraphale’s eyes widened. "Remarkable," he breathed, wonder overtaking caution.
Another flash, much closer. Brighter. The thunder followed, louder now, vibrating through his chest. Creation did so enjoy unveiling surprises.
The rain thickened. Wind tore through the trees no longer playful, but wild, tugging sharply at his robes. Branches groaned. Leaves whipped violently around him.
“Oh,” he muttered, uncertain. “Oh, I don’t believe I care for this.”
Water began to gather around his bare feet, pooling where the earth dipped. The ground grew slick, treacherous. Aziraphale stepped backward, trying to find firmer footing, but the wind pushed sharply against him.
Another flash.
This time, lightning struck a nearby tree with a violent crack. Splintering wood echoed through the storm, loud and sharp and final. He looked up just in time to see a great branch tear loose above him.
Aziraphale moved. Too late.
The wet ground slipped beneath his feet. One of his wings snagged against rough bark, dragging him off balance. He stumbled, half-falling, heart lurching as the branch thundered downward. For the first time, he felt fear.
This would hurt.
A hand seized his arm.
He was pulled sharply backward, stumbling into solid warmth as the branch crashed to the ground where he had stood only a moment before. The earth shook with the impact, water splashing as he fell.
“For Heaven’s sake, angel!” A familiar voice cut through the storm.
Aziraphale blinked, dazed, his heart racing in a way he did not understand. The demon Crawly crouched before him, golden eyes bright and searching, his long, ginger curls plastered damply to his face.
Crawly's grip was firm, protective. “Up, come on—move."
He dragged Aziraphale through the driving rain toward the shelter of a rock outcrop tangled with roots, one arm locked tight around him instinctively. Only when they were safely beneath the overhang did Crawly stop.
“What were you doing just standing there in the middle of a thunderstorm?” Crawly demanded, shaking the water off his drenched black wings.
“I—” Aziraphale faltered. “I didn’t realize a rain storm could be so… dangerous.”
Crawly stared, his expression a mix of incredulity and amusement. "The bolts of lightning shooting from the sky didn't seem like a poor development?" he asked, waving his hand in the air for emphasis.
“I see that now,” Aziraphale said softly.
“You could have been hurt."
“Yes, I believe I could have.”
His answer seemed to frustrate Crawly further, because the demon scoffed at him and turned to look out at the sky. The storm was beginning to soften, thunder rolling farther away.
“You came very quickly,” Aziraphale said after a moment.
“Was nearby,” Crawly replied at once, perhaps too sharply.
“You were worried about me." It wasn't a question.
“I was annoyed,” Crawly hissed. Then, softer, almost grudging, “You nearly got yourself flattened by horticulture.”
Aziraphale’s lips curved faintly at that. He shook his wings and began ringing water from his robes. “I must say, the lightning was rather impressive!”
Crawly stared. “You were nearly killed and your conclusion is ‘impressive’?”
There was that fond, incredulous smile again, just like when they'd met on the wall and Aziraphale had explained how he'd given away his flaming sword.
“Well,” he said thoughtfully, “it was both impressive and educational.”
Crawly huffed a sound suspiciously close to reluctant amusement.
The rain stopped. Pale light filtered through thinning clouds, the storm abetting.
After a moment, Aziraphale said, lightly, “Well. Thank you for the rescue. If another tree branch attempts murder, can I trust you will intervene again?”
Crawly glanced at him, eyebrow raised, and for a fraction of a second, something unguarded flickered in his yellow eyes.
“Oh, undoubtedly,” he said. “Someone has to keep you from being taken out by landscaping.”
Aziraphale smiled. He was no longer afraid. He felt safe.