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It was sudden stillness of the wind that let the light keeper know the storm had passed, and he made the endless trudge to the top of his tower to check the light was still going strong.
Luckily he could take his time on the way up, since the sun was also on its way up.
The keeper pulled his woolen peacoat closer against the moist chill, breathing the petrichor in the air.
Wait, he peered in the direction of the dark gray sea covered by some leftover streaks of foam. What was that big shape that was momentarily lit up by the big light?
Crowley squinted at the shape, hoping that he didn’t need to run back down to the bottom in order to make it out. The ebbing wind brought the sound of creaking wood, and his stomach dropped. He knew what that particular sound heralded. Neither sailor nor lighthouse keeper ever wanted to hear that sound so close to shore.
Somewhere beyond the mist, a ship was breaking apart. The big light swung around again, its steady beam illuminating the horizon until.... there. Just for another moment, an outline of a mast, jutting diagonally, wrongly. On it was a small outline that was too soft, too organic to be a boat. The wind surged a moment and brushed what appeared to be a jagged sleeve, a flash of pale skin seen distantly.
“Oh shit!” Crowley said, running down the stairs back to the bottom of the lighthouse.
The heavy wet sand of the beach seemed to fight him as he struggled to run to the broken ship. Luckily the tide was low, but the storm had left the air cold.
He had his waders on, and the water almost reached his knees before small pieces of debris started to float past him. He squinted as a shape came into focus in front of him.
It was the body of a man... with brown hair and a moustache. Crowley ran over to the body and scooped him by his arms. He grunted, as he dragged the man to the sand in order to safely assist him with any injuries.
“Aziraphale…” the brown haired man moaned softly…”in the life raft..we both…” The rest was lost as he passed out.
Crowley jumped to his feet and ran back into the water, looking for the mysterious person named Aziraphale.
He found the life raft... but the first person he saw was a blonde woman... Ah, and a blonde man. Weird that the moustached man hadn't mentioned the woman as well.
Crowley thought for a moment. He wasn’t going to be able to move three people by himself. Not as a human anyway. Before starting to shapeshift he looked at all the people he needed to save, assessing if they were all properly knocked out, or at least, dizzy enough to believe it was all a dream later.
The magic shimmered along his form as he let it out of his human limitation. The soft fur, pointed nose and his glorious five fox tails, all in the brilliant red of his human hair, tipped in black.
It had been a while since he’d adopted this form, and it felt nice to be able to stretch these legs. But as nice as it was, he had more important things to deal with, such as making sure all the shipwrecked people were safe somewhere.
A twist of magic and he “tricked” the beach into moving the lifeboat closer to the cottage door at the base of the tower. The beach complied, but Crowley could feel its confusion at things not being in their expected place anymore.
It meant he had to pick the moustached one up and fireman carry him. His jacket felt like a carpet.
He placed the man on the couch at the entrance and went back outside to grab the blondes.
Once done, Crowley concentrated, curling his glorious tails back as he slipped back into his fully human presentation. He then got some towels from storage and checked his soaked foundlings.
He noticed the blonde man's already pale skin shifting paler and paler. Crowley hastily reached toward the man's throat, feeling his pulse growing weaker. Crowley pushed back the sodden pale curls, and pried the eyelids up. Light hazel eyes were rolled back and the man gave a wet, gurgling cough.
The darkness pressed up against the lighthouse windows, but Crowley's attention was all on the ragged breath of the stranger beneath his hands and the faint, impossible whisper of magic still clinging to him.
“Breath to breath” Crowley whispered to shape the magic. And pressed his lips to the blonde, stormswept stranger’s.
The stranger gasped for air as Crowley turned him to his side, in case any water needed to come out.
“What-what happened.” He said, with a ragged voice.
"A fox!" the moustached man had roused himself on the couch. "Aziraphale, there was a fox!"
The blonde beneath Crowley - Aziraphale, apparently - peered around him with half-lidded eyes, which suddenly widened.
"Maggie! M-maggie! she was on the boat!"
Crowley raised an eyebrow at Moustache and kept a soft hand on the blonde man’s shoulder.
“That her?” He asked, nodding at the unconscious woman on the floor.
"Oh!"Aziraphale gasped, which turned into a cough as he tried to roll further over. "Is she ok?"
"Did you hear me, Aziraphale? There was an enormous fox!"
"Oh do shut up, Brown!" Aziraphale snapped with as much force as he could muster, then addressed Crowley again. "Is she ok?"
“Haven’t been able to check yet,” Crowley said. He handed Aziraphale a towel as he turned to the woman on the floor. He didn’t notice his shadow in the low light wasn’t quite as bipedal as his current form would suggest. The magic was too near yet.
Maggie was soon roused, and grabbed hold of Aziraphale' shoulders as soon as she realised where she was.
"You silly man!" she chided, "Don't ever try and pull that 'women and children' first thing again!" anger turned into relief as they hugged.
Crowley got to his feet and stood awkwardly, not wanting to intrude on a private moment. Their companion has no such qualms.
"Maggie? Did you see that great big fox just now?"
“Mr Brown, did you bump your head?” Maggie asked, concerned for the man’s well being.
"Very likely, being in such a rush to jump into the lifeboat first," Aziraphale said dryly, trying to sit up but listing over to one side, "Oh, oh dear...."
Maggie lurched to catch him and then groaned. The two leaned helplessly on each other for a minute.
“Did you get caught in the storm?” Crowley asked.
“Ha! Look, fox!” Brown said somewhat maniacally, holding up a long coarse hair of deep copper. It glittered slightly in the weak sunlight light peeking in from the windows.
Aziraphale ignored him and turned to Crowley. "Yes. My sister and I were sailing from Belfast to Stranraer when we got blown off course. Maggie's an excellent captain." He smiled at the woman fondly, "but the storm came in so suddenly there was nothing for it. We managed to get into the raft once it was clear we were taking on too much water."
"Lucky you then, of all the places you could've crashed into," Crowley commented with a smirk. He started up the fireplace as he continued speaking. "I'll see if I can find you all something to change into. Keep yourselves warm while I'm gone, yeah?"
The cottage, attached as it was to the lighthouse, had various extra supplies for just this sort of event. Though Crowley had never used them before, he was grateful now for the bags of spare blankets, t-shirts and tracksuit bottoms stacked in the cupboard.
When he returned to the room, the sunlight was brighter and his “guests” were arguing quietly.
"If you had checked the weather forecast..." Brown complained.
"You asked to join us," Maggie told Brown, irritated.
"Begged," Aziraphale muttered.
"And we left later than expected due to your insistence in coming with us," Maggie continued.
“I had a last minute sale,” Brown protested. Aziraphale muttered something under his breath and furiously rubbed the towel on his dripping hair, making his pale curls wildly flare in all directions
"Found some spare clothes," Crowley announced, breaking up the bickering. "Is everyone feeling okay—except for being cold and wet, that is?"
They agreed and after they had dried off and changed, Maggie and Aziraphale exchanged a look and turned to Crowley.
“Uhm,” Maggie said hesitantly,” so, thank you. For saving us.”
"S'alright," Crowley shrugged. "Part of the job. Look after the big light and drag people off the beach. Do it all the time."
"All by yourself?" Aziraphale asked.
"Do you see anyone else here?" Crowley returned the question. "There isn't a living soul to be seen for 60 miles around us. Except for the sheep."
"That seems... lonely." Aziraphale looked at him carefully. Crowley tried not to squirm.
"Yeah, well, sometimes," Crowley agreed, all the while busying himself with something that looked like an antique teapot. "But there are the sheep. Did I mention the sheep?"
"Well, I don't want to be stuck out here... with sheep," Mr Brown shivered as he moved closer to the fire. "Or a giant fox," he added.
"Oh, quit talking about the fox," Aziraphale huffed. "And don't you worry. I'll send you back the first time we have a chance."
Crowley suppressed a snort. Crowley didn't like many people, but the blonde man was growing on him.
"Stop fighting you two," Maggie chided. "It's not Mr Bown's fault he... hallucinated a fox, of all things." She sighed. "And we all need to get out of here. We can't just stay here and take advantage of the hospitality of Mr...?"
"Crowley. Just Crowley," the lighthouse keeper muttered while carrying over four slightly battered looking mugs of tea. Aziraphale's eyes lit up at the tartan patterned mug as he hugged it to his chest, Maggie oohed at the moomin mug, the grouchy Mr Brown scowled at the two leftover pride themed mugs and chose the simpler rainbow one, while Crowley unperturbedly sipped from the last one left standing that said 'Let's get one thing STRAIGHT I'M NOT'.
"I'll send an alert through the coast guard," he said now, between sips of tea. "Get you picked up. Did you put out a mayday before the boat went down? I'm surprised they're not already here."
Both Aziraphale and Maggie shot an accusing look at Mr Brown, and Crowley arched an eyebrow. "So, that's a no, I take it?"
Maggie bared her teeth in what, perhaps, was supposed to be a smile. "No... we had... err.... complications with communication and evacuation."
"Hmm," Crowley took a loud slurp. "Right then, I'll get on the radio. You.. err... make yourselves at home."
As he went into his radio room he could hear some furious whispering starting up. He leaned into his magic form while his ears turned momentarily furry because his poor human ears were just so limited.
"If you hadn't insisted on taking control of the radio---" Maggie was hissing, "We could have gotten the mayday out when the engines first gave out."
"It's not my fault your radio hadn't been maintained properly," Mr Brown snapped back. "I knew exactly what I was doing."
There was a sound of movement.
"Oh look," Aziraphale's voice was calm, and curious, "A book on Japanese mythology. How interesting."
"Only you can think about reading a book right now." Crowley could practically hear her roll her eyes. "We can't stay here."
"Maggie is right." Mr Brown agreed. "There's something off about that man. I'm telling you... There's a giant fox..."
"Oh, shut it!" Maggie huffed.
"May I remind you," Aziraphale said cooly, "that that man came to our rescue. Saved my life. And is currently calling the coastguard. So I suggest we all drink our tea and be sure to thank him when he returns."
Crowley smiled.
"But the fox-"
"There is NO fox, Mr. Brown!" Aziraphale raised his voice, surprisingly heated. "Absolutely NOTHING wrong with this place, or that man. Or-"
"Relax, Azi. Are you hungry?" Maggie asked.
"Maybe I am!" Snapped Aziraphale.
"Well then," Maggie did soothingly. "We'll ask the nice Mr Crowley if he has any biscuits when he comes back. Explain that you're hangry - I mean, hungry!"
Crowley returned to the room with the news that the coast guard wouldn’t be able to come until tomorrow at the earliest due to the storm.
“Crowley, thank you for all your help and generous hospitality,” Aziraphale declared. “Please, let me repay you by cooking a small meal.”
"He's hangry." Maggie mouthed from behind him.
“Az, I know you mean well, but you are no chef,” Brown protested and Aziraphale clenched his jaw. Crowley frowned at Brown, the sunlight making his amber eyes flash almost golden for a moment.
"That's OK. I'm a decent enough cook," Crowley said. "Aziraphale, why don't you come and help me in the kitchen? And Maggie, if you go through that door there, you'll find a spare bedroom and bathroom. If you want to get settled."
The three of them left Mr Brown dithering in the sitting area. Brown tried to stand but he seemed oddly stuck to the battered chair. Crowley looked away as he led Aziraphale to the kitchen.
"So..." Crowley had gathered ingredients for omelettes and toast and was cracking eggs, while Aziraphale was in charge of cutting up cheese. "What is it you do for a living, Aziraphale? You're not a professional sailor..."
“Bookseller, actually,” Aziraphale said. Neither looked toward the front room when there was a crash and Brown started yelling something about shoelaces, which he hadn’t had before, being tied around his ankles.
Briskly whipping the eggs Crowley turned toward the bookseller with interest. "Oh, books in a particular field perhaps or more generically?” They both ignored the frustrated grunting sounds in the background.
“Antique mostly,” Aziraphale said. “My friend, Makoto, says I’d marry a book if it was legal and it was over 200 years old,”
"Makoto," Crowley's throat suddenly felt very dry. "That would be a humaaa...a Japanese friend of yours then?"
“Yes.”Aziraphale said, swallowing but looking intently at the cheese he was cutting. “He’d suggested coming here. Made us a lovely picnic basket of sushi, inari. Thought I might find a solution to a problem I’ve not been able to solve.”
“I do miss sushi,” Crowley said carefully. There was another crash and a muttered curse from the front room, Maggie’s muffled voice sounded exasperated.
Crowley let go of his intention as Aziraphale looked apologetically at him and rose to attend to his companions. He smirked as he heard Aziraphale's calm voice remonstrating with Brown's agitated one.
When Aziraphale came back a few minutes later, Crowley turned slightly to the side and the light cast his vulpine profile.
“Some solutions to that problem, well, they may have a price,” Crowley said.
Aziraphale stopped in the middle of reaching for his unfinished prep work. "Such as?" He asked.
“Depends,” Crowley said, golden eyes watching him. “what is needed, what is wanted, what is…permitted.”
Aziraphale stood very still and thought for a moment. "Is the bargain already struck when the question is posed? Or is there an option to discuss... er possible scenarios?”
Brown's strident voice cut into the heavy silence and Crowley’s eyes flashed again. Clever lips twitched. “If it is something one wants to do anyway, well…let’s say arrangements can be reached.”
“Five years,” Aziripahle said finally. “Never crossing a line, but just not going away. Always there, always pushing, showing up where definitely not wanted,”
“It’s…escalating,” he added.
"Do you want it to de-escalate?” Crowley slowly started circling Aziraphale in the kitchen. "I sense something unnatural at work here."
The bookseller turned on the spot to follow the eyes that kept staring at him.
"Someone has done something to you," he murred, ending his circle right in front of Aziraphale and sniffing him.
Aziraphale shivered. “My grandfather,”Aziraphale said quietly. “He did someone wrong long ago, and now all his descendants, well…we all have issues like the one in the living room. I want to make it right, if we can.”
Crowley raised his eyebrows. "And your friend..... Makoto.... Thought that bringing a basket of sushi to my... I mean, this island might help you deal with your.." he nodded his head out to where they could still hear Mr Brown arguing with Maggie, "little problem."
“We found an old book in his grandmother's library,” Aziraphale said. “It..suggested…that the one my grandfather wronged could be..appeased. And he’d heard rumours of a red-haired man who was more than he seemed…”
"Hmm..." Crowley folded his arms and leaned his hip against a counter. "What makes you think that this... red haired man would want some sushi? Perhaps, he's into something else."
Aziraphale blushed fiercely. “My grandfather..he failed to…perform…adequately…in the bedroom, to our grandmother. I was told only…an adequate showing….would break the curse. So Maggie and I both came. To offer…options…”
Crowley pursed his lips before saying carefully. "That might have been a bargain made in the past. But personally I am all for free will and, er, consent in the bedroom. He gave Aziraphale a lingering once-over. "That makes it so much more enjoyable, don't you think?"
Aziraphale lifted his head and licked his lips. “We both have shops in Soho,” he said drily. “Enthusiastic consent is definitely not an issue,”
He swallowed to cleanse his dry throat. "So, which one of us would you, eh..., prefer?"
"I would prefer," he enunciated clearly, "to take you on a date. Sushi. In Soho. After I have dealt with this Brown fribble in my living room." Crowley moved closer and added, breathing on Aziraphale's lips, "The only price I'm asking is this date. Do we have a deal?"
Aziripahle paused and then smiled like the sun. “Makoto has a Michelin star sushi restaurant,” he replied looking through his lashes, “near my book shop.”
The next morning, Brown awoke in a dingy as he was being picked up by a South American coast guard patrol, while Maggie met the neighbouring sheep farmer Nina, a fierce independent woman of few words, who, although she preferred coffee, was always ready to make her angel a chamomile tea. Stranrear grew on Maggie and she and Nina opened a musically themed B&B in Crowley's lighthouse.
And the curse? Well that was enthusiastically broken multiple times over the next year, followed by a beach wedding. And everyone carefully didn’t notice a six tailed fox shadow following one of the grooms.