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79 A.D.
Aziraphale sat in front of the tavern, his fingers tapping on the table while his eyes were trained on the dark clouds that towered over the horizon. The Vesuv was a two-day trip away but, since its eruption, the smoke was looming in the distance.
Aziraphale was already on his second glass of wine. He raised his hand to pull down a miracle to chill the drink, but stopped the motion. It would be of no use.
When Crowley finally appeared on the plaza, he came rushing towards Aziraphale. “Came as fast as I got your letter, angel,” he said out of breath, and fell into the opposite chair. “And it seems like we're facing the same problem.”
He raised his hand and snapped, eyes focused on the glass of wine, but nothing happened. There was no telltale surge of demonic power, nor the familiar sound that accompanied a miracle.
Aziraphale nodded, twisting his fingers. “It happened when the smoke came drifting to the city. Do you have any idea what this is about?” It felt unmooring to be without miracles after having them at his disposal for so long.
“I guess the smoke blocks the transmissions. Nothing from Heaven or Hell coming in, nothing going out.”
Aziraphale’s head snapped up. This sounded … intriguing. “You mean no communication from our head offices until this is over? No surprise visits or urgent missions?”
“Just you and me now, angel,” Crowley confirmed with a smirk. “So, what will you do, alone with your hereditary enemy until the smoke lifts?”
They were on their third bottle of wine, and Aziraphale was nibbling on some bread and cheese, listening to Crowley sing along to the lyre player. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and a soft breeze was wafting through the streets.
Aziraphale couldn't remember the last time he had this much fun. Being able to enjoy his time with Crowley without looking over his shoulder constantly was truly a marvel. He had never seen Crowley so relaxed, no trace of alertness in his body language.
“So, what's next?” Crowley asked once Aziraphale had popped the last piece of bread into his mouth.
“Oh, what a marvellous idea.” Aziraphale sank deeper into the warm water, enjoying how it relaxed the muscles of his corporation that felt surprisingly human without the ability to perform miracles. Crowley was soaking next to him, humming affirmatively, his chin barely staying above the water.
Aziraphale enjoyed the occasional visit to the bathhouse, but he mostly went alone or met with the people he was supposed to influence. To be here simply for his enjoyment with someone whose company he actually appreciated was a treat unheard of. And to know that a fully naked, relaxed Crowley stretched out next to him gave him ideas of what he wanted to do next.
The first rays of sunshine fell through the window when Aziraphale woke up with a heavy limb draped over his hip and red locks tickling his chin.
They had spent the night in a tight embrace, whispering confessions they had to keep a secret any other day. They had made good use of those few precious hours, and Aziraphale's muscles felt comfortably sore.
Scrunching his nose, Crowley began to stir. “‘S too early. Sun's too bright.” He snapped his fingers, and curtains appeared in front of Aziraphale's window, darkening the room. The demon in his arms froze, and Aziraphale’s heart sank.
2010 A.D.
It was far too early for any sensible customer to call the shop, but the phone wouldn't stop ringing. Aziraphale dragged himself out of his favourite armchair to shoo away whoever was interrupting his quality time with Wilde.
“Angel, have you seen the news?” Crowley’s voice was fast and urgent. “The Eyjefa… Eyjafjall… the volcano erupting in Iceland? How are your miracles?”
Aziraphale made the familiar gesture to freshen up his clothes. When nothing happened, a smile spread on his face. He was quite fond of volcanoes.