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go_exchangeTitle: Between two hearts we bear a soul
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kijikun
From:shinobi_mi_chan
Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley, Castiel
Rating: PG
Summary: Aziraphale has been given charge over a young angel called Castiel, and all angels most learn to fly sometime.
It all started like this: An angel approached a demon. “I’ve got a surprise!” It gushed.
Crowley eyed Aziraphale warily. He wasn’t sure he trusted Aziraphale’s taste enough to be enthused by his “surprises.”
“Come on, old boy,” Aziraphale oozed. “It’ll be fun.”*
Crowley stepped gingerly over the threshold of Aziraphale’s house. It looked freshly swept, which was a bad sign. He was kicking off his sandals when he heard it—a low, needy, cry.
“Oh gods,” he said, turning hurriedly to face Aziraphale. “It’s alive. You could’ve told me it would be alive.”
Aziraphale adjusted the shoulder of his chiton primly. “I would never. That would’ve ruined the surprise.”
Crowley glowered at him before cautiously creeping further into the room. He was coming around to Aziraphale’s table when he saw it. The thing.
It was tiny—to Crowley, both magnificent and terrifying. The child was wrapped in layer upon layer of fabric, swaddled neatly in its basket. It wasn’t crying anymore, and its blue eyes were calmly studying Crowley.
Goosebumps pricked at his arms. “Aziraphale,” he hissed. “Why th-the—the Heaven have you got a baby?”**
“Come on in,” Aziraphale said, gesturing Crowley towards his kitchen. “I’ll get you a drink—you look all flustered, poor dear.”
Crowley chose to ignore the “dear” bit and focused instead on the prospect of obtaining alcohol. He stalked after Aziraphale.
“Why have you got a blessed infant, angel? Have you done something wrong and this is His way of punishing you, sticking you with Celestial babysitting duties or something?”
Aziraphale looked vaguely confused. “Crowley—no, of course it’s not a punishment. Why would it be?” He gave Crowley his best “Come to the light!” angelic smile.***
“The child has been recently created.” Aziraphale continued. “It is my job to prepare him for the world and his role in God’s plans.”
Crowley rolled his eyes. “Right. I suppose he’s destined for greatness; fulfilling the Ineffable Plan and such?”
“He is important,” Aziraphale said softly. “Many years from now, he will fight in a great war. He will save an innocent man from Hell.”
Crowley saw a place to rag on and latched onto it immediately. “What’s an innocent man doing in Hell? I thought it was your lot’s whole point to put the good in Heaven and the sinners in Hell. They screw up, huh?”
Aziraphale eyed him sharply. “You know that’s not how it works. And he gave his soul to save his brother.”
“Oh,” muttered Crowley. He studied the top of his drink moodily. “Why’ve they given it to you, then?”
Aziraphale brightened. “The general opinion seems to be that I would make a good parent. Apparently, I am fatherly.”
“That’s not—angel, that’s not a good thing. Why am I still friends with you?”
“Because you love me,” Aziraphale said happily.
Crowley colored slightly and took a long drag of his drink. Bloody angels.
--
* Looking back, Crowley would often wonder how Aziraphale had managed to sound like a middle-aged Brit even while speaking languages other than English. He eventually stopped trying to figure it out and chalked it up as one of the Great Mysteries of the Universe.
** Later, Crowley would not admit to his terror, and especially not to his stutter.
***He also chose this moment to hand Crowley the bottle of wine, which may have contributed to the demon’s decision to sit down and listen attentively.
--
While angels, like humans, start off tiny and squealing, they don’t stay that way for long, growing quickly and well.*
Castiel of course was no exception to this. He had gone through a short period of teething during which he destroyed a perfectly good pair of Crowley’s sandals, and he was going steadily from there.
Crowley was still unsure of the fledgling. He didn’t trust him. However, when Aziraphale asked him to meet in a courtroom several miles away for some sort of “lessons,” he showed anyway.***
“Why’re we meeting here,” he complained as he stepped into the clearing. “Why not at your—“
Crowley stared. Aziraphale was standing in the gap between the trees and smiling serenely. Crowley assumed that the small form at his feet was Castiel, but he was having a hard time paying attention to the child because Aziraphale had his wings out.
And out they were, grey-brown plumage spreading into the sky. Crowley couldn’t help but stare a little—demons had wings, yes, but they didn’t often go parading them about. Actually, he was pretty sure angels didn’t go parading them about either.****
“Um,” Crowley said eloquently. “What are you doing?”
“Angels know inherently how to fly,” Aziraphale said breezily, “but it never hurts to give them a bit of guidance. Preferably from more than one person, which is why I’ve called you here.”
“I’m supposed to teach him to fly?”
Aziraphale looked impatient at Crowley’s apparent lack of comprehension. “Well, yes. You are like a father to him.”
“I am not!”
“You spend about as much time with Castiel as I do,” Aziraphale pointed out.
Crowley spluttered, but he had to give the angel that one. But it wasn’t like he spent so much time with the child because he liked it; it was because he and Aziraphale had an arrangement. Obviously.
“Well then,” Aziraphale piped up, apparently pleased that Crowley seemed to have come to terms with his task, “Go on, then.”
“Huh?”
Aziraphale waved a hand vaguely. “Bring out your wings, Crowley.”
“Right,” said Crowley, and reached inside himself.
It was a tricky business, actually, bringing out one’s wings. You had to reveal just enough of your true form to show them, but not too much unless you wanted to cause a good deal of destruction.
Crowley closed his eyes, stretched his shoulders back, and felt the bones and sinews stretch from him, feathers curling into air.
“Very nice,” Aziraphale said. Crowley blinked his eyes open.
“Thanks,” said Crowley. “Mine are much better kept than yours, you know.”
“I’m sure, dear,” Aziraphale murmured. “Just show the child.”
Crowley walked forward and knelt down in front of Castiel. All the child’s attention was focused on him; and it felt as if those wide blue eyes were staring straight past the man-shaped body and into soul. They probably were. Crowley shivered.
Castiel gripped a feather. “Hi!” he chirruped, and the illusion disappeared.
“Hi yourself,” Crowley winced, as Aziraphale snickered. “Shut up, angel.”
“I’m sorry. He hasn’t pulled it out, has he?”
Crowley opened his mouth to say “No,” when there was a sharp tug accompanied by a small giggle. “Yeah,” he grumbled.
Aziraphale positively smirked. He went to kneel down beside Castiel as well, and as he did, a wing brushed lightly against Crowley’s. He twitched away slightly.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the angel apologized. “Have I hit you?”
“S’okay,” muttered Crowley. It’d been a long time—longer than he could remember, actually—since he’d felt that sort of touch. It was kind of nice.
Aziraphale gave him a quick smile, and then turned his attention back to their charge. “Alright now, little one. I want to bring out your wings, just like we have. Can you do that?”
Castiel stared up at him. Then slowly, carefully, black feathers unfolded across his back. Castiel seemed rather surprised by this new development, eyes widening in shock.
“Yes,” chuckled Aziraphale. “Yes, they’ve always been there, you just haven’t noticed.” He beamed down at the child.
“Black wings,” Crowley commented. “That’s unusual, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” murmured Aziraphale. “But not unheard of.” He smiled, reaching out and stroking the crest of the child’s wing, sending a shudder down Castiel’s body. “And very beautiful.”
Castiel, apparently encouraged by Aziraphale’s touch, stretched his newfound appendages out behind him. He gave one fast stroke and was propelled into the air with a squeal.
Crowley couldn’t resist a quick snort of laughter as the young fledgling flopped back onto the earth, which earned him a reproving glare from Aziraphale.
“Yes, that’s it,” the older angel said encouragingly. “Like that.” Remaining in his crouched position, Aziraphale gave his wings a quick flap. He glanced over to Crowley and the demon mirrored the action; as he lifted his wings in a quick up-and-down motion, he let the tips of his feathers brush Aziraphale’s.
Castiel studied them for a moment and then seemed to go into a deep concentration, a tiny crease appearing on his forehead. He lifted his wings, hard, and then he was rising steadily in the air. “Oh,” he said, eyes wide in amazement.
Aziraphale beamed, and Crowley couldn’t help but grin as well. Okay, yeah, it was kind of beautiful.
Castiel rose higher still, his smile broader than Crowley could remember ever seeing it before. Aziraphale stood and Crowley rose as well.
“Just like that, Castiel,” Aziraphale called, looking about to burst with pride.
“See?” he said, turning to Crowley. “It’s not too bad being a father, now, is it?”
Crowley reached a wing over Aziraphale’s, sliding their plumage together and letting Aziraphale read the rustling of their feathers however he wished.
No, it wasn’t too bad, being a father. One could almost get used to it.
--
*There is a wide-held belief that this is because Michael and Lucifer had really ‘terrible twos’ and God did not want to go through that again.**
**He left humans that way because he was still mad at Adam and Eve for the whole garden thing.
*** When asked, he would say that his years in Hell had undoubtedly caused him to develop masochistic tendencies.
****It was part of the whole pretending-to-be-humans thing.
Recipient:
kijikunFrom:
shinobi_mi_chanCharacters: Aziraphale, Crowley, Castiel
Rating: PG
Summary: Aziraphale has been given charge over a young angel called Castiel, and all angels most learn to fly sometime.
It all started like this: An angel approached a demon. “I’ve got a surprise!” It gushed.
Crowley eyed Aziraphale warily. He wasn’t sure he trusted Aziraphale’s taste enough to be enthused by his “surprises.”
“Come on, old boy,” Aziraphale oozed. “It’ll be fun.”*
Crowley stepped gingerly over the threshold of Aziraphale’s house. It looked freshly swept, which was a bad sign. He was kicking off his sandals when he heard it—a low, needy, cry.
“Oh gods,” he said, turning hurriedly to face Aziraphale. “It’s alive. You could’ve told me it would be alive.”
Aziraphale adjusted the shoulder of his chiton primly. “I would never. That would’ve ruined the surprise.”
Crowley glowered at him before cautiously creeping further into the room. He was coming around to Aziraphale’s table when he saw it. The thing.
It was tiny—to Crowley, both magnificent and terrifying. The child was wrapped in layer upon layer of fabric, swaddled neatly in its basket. It wasn’t crying anymore, and its blue eyes were calmly studying Crowley.
Goosebumps pricked at his arms. “Aziraphale,” he hissed. “Why th-the—the Heaven have you got a baby?”**
“Come on in,” Aziraphale said, gesturing Crowley towards his kitchen. “I’ll get you a drink—you look all flustered, poor dear.”
Crowley chose to ignore the “dear” bit and focused instead on the prospect of obtaining alcohol. He stalked after Aziraphale.
“Why have you got a blessed infant, angel? Have you done something wrong and this is His way of punishing you, sticking you with Celestial babysitting duties or something?”
Aziraphale looked vaguely confused. “Crowley—no, of course it’s not a punishment. Why would it be?” He gave Crowley his best “Come to the light!” angelic smile.***
“The child has been recently created.” Aziraphale continued. “It is my job to prepare him for the world and his role in God’s plans.”
Crowley rolled his eyes. “Right. I suppose he’s destined for greatness; fulfilling the Ineffable Plan and such?”
“He is important,” Aziraphale said softly. “Many years from now, he will fight in a great war. He will save an innocent man from Hell.”
Crowley saw a place to rag on and latched onto it immediately. “What’s an innocent man doing in Hell? I thought it was your lot’s whole point to put the good in Heaven and the sinners in Hell. They screw up, huh?”
Aziraphale eyed him sharply. “You know that’s not how it works. And he gave his soul to save his brother.”
“Oh,” muttered Crowley. He studied the top of his drink moodily. “Why’ve they given it to you, then?”
Aziraphale brightened. “The general opinion seems to be that I would make a good parent. Apparently, I am fatherly.”
“That’s not—angel, that’s not a good thing. Why am I still friends with you?”
“Because you love me,” Aziraphale said happily.
Crowley colored slightly and took a long drag of his drink. Bloody angels.
--
* Looking back, Crowley would often wonder how Aziraphale had managed to sound like a middle-aged Brit even while speaking languages other than English. He eventually stopped trying to figure it out and chalked it up as one of the Great Mysteries of the Universe.
** Later, Crowley would not admit to his terror, and especially not to his stutter.
***He also chose this moment to hand Crowley the bottle of wine, which may have contributed to the demon’s decision to sit down and listen attentively.
--
While angels, like humans, start off tiny and squealing, they don’t stay that way for long, growing quickly and well.*
Castiel of course was no exception to this. He had gone through a short period of teething during which he destroyed a perfectly good pair of Crowley’s sandals, and he was going steadily from there.
Crowley was still unsure of the fledgling. He didn’t trust him. However, when Aziraphale asked him to meet in a courtroom several miles away for some sort of “lessons,” he showed anyway.***
“Why’re we meeting here,” he complained as he stepped into the clearing. “Why not at your—“
Crowley stared. Aziraphale was standing in the gap between the trees and smiling serenely. Crowley assumed that the small form at his feet was Castiel, but he was having a hard time paying attention to the child because Aziraphale had his wings out.
And out they were, grey-brown plumage spreading into the sky. Crowley couldn’t help but stare a little—demons had wings, yes, but they didn’t often go parading them about. Actually, he was pretty sure angels didn’t go parading them about either.****
“Um,” Crowley said eloquently. “What are you doing?”
“Angels know inherently how to fly,” Aziraphale said breezily, “but it never hurts to give them a bit of guidance. Preferably from more than one person, which is why I’ve called you here.”
“I’m supposed to teach him to fly?”
Aziraphale looked impatient at Crowley’s apparent lack of comprehension. “Well, yes. You are like a father to him.”
“I am not!”
“You spend about as much time with Castiel as I do,” Aziraphale pointed out.
Crowley spluttered, but he had to give the angel that one. But it wasn’t like he spent so much time with the child because he liked it; it was because he and Aziraphale had an arrangement. Obviously.
“Well then,” Aziraphale piped up, apparently pleased that Crowley seemed to have come to terms with his task, “Go on, then.”
“Huh?”
Aziraphale waved a hand vaguely. “Bring out your wings, Crowley.”
“Right,” said Crowley, and reached inside himself.
It was a tricky business, actually, bringing out one’s wings. You had to reveal just enough of your true form to show them, but not too much unless you wanted to cause a good deal of destruction.
Crowley closed his eyes, stretched his shoulders back, and felt the bones and sinews stretch from him, feathers curling into air.
“Very nice,” Aziraphale said. Crowley blinked his eyes open.
“Thanks,” said Crowley. “Mine are much better kept than yours, you know.”
“I’m sure, dear,” Aziraphale murmured. “Just show the child.”
Crowley walked forward and knelt down in front of Castiel. All the child’s attention was focused on him; and it felt as if those wide blue eyes were staring straight past the man-shaped body and into soul. They probably were. Crowley shivered.
Castiel gripped a feather. “Hi!” he chirruped, and the illusion disappeared.
“Hi yourself,” Crowley winced, as Aziraphale snickered. “Shut up, angel.”
“I’m sorry. He hasn’t pulled it out, has he?”
Crowley opened his mouth to say “No,” when there was a sharp tug accompanied by a small giggle. “Yeah,” he grumbled.
Aziraphale positively smirked. He went to kneel down beside Castiel as well, and as he did, a wing brushed lightly against Crowley’s. He twitched away slightly.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the angel apologized. “Have I hit you?”
“S’okay,” muttered Crowley. It’d been a long time—longer than he could remember, actually—since he’d felt that sort of touch. It was kind of nice.
Aziraphale gave him a quick smile, and then turned his attention back to their charge. “Alright now, little one. I want to bring out your wings, just like we have. Can you do that?”
Castiel stared up at him. Then slowly, carefully, black feathers unfolded across his back. Castiel seemed rather surprised by this new development, eyes widening in shock.
“Yes,” chuckled Aziraphale. “Yes, they’ve always been there, you just haven’t noticed.” He beamed down at the child.
“Black wings,” Crowley commented. “That’s unusual, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” murmured Aziraphale. “But not unheard of.” He smiled, reaching out and stroking the crest of the child’s wing, sending a shudder down Castiel’s body. “And very beautiful.”
Castiel, apparently encouraged by Aziraphale’s touch, stretched his newfound appendages out behind him. He gave one fast stroke and was propelled into the air with a squeal.
Crowley couldn’t resist a quick snort of laughter as the young fledgling flopped back onto the earth, which earned him a reproving glare from Aziraphale.
“Yes, that’s it,” the older angel said encouragingly. “Like that.” Remaining in his crouched position, Aziraphale gave his wings a quick flap. He glanced over to Crowley and the demon mirrored the action; as he lifted his wings in a quick up-and-down motion, he let the tips of his feathers brush Aziraphale’s.
Castiel studied them for a moment and then seemed to go into a deep concentration, a tiny crease appearing on his forehead. He lifted his wings, hard, and then he was rising steadily in the air. “Oh,” he said, eyes wide in amazement.
Aziraphale beamed, and Crowley couldn’t help but grin as well. Okay, yeah, it was kind of beautiful.
Castiel rose higher still, his smile broader than Crowley could remember ever seeing it before. Aziraphale stood and Crowley rose as well.
“Just like that, Castiel,” Aziraphale called, looking about to burst with pride.
“See?” he said, turning to Crowley. “It’s not too bad being a father, now, is it?”
Crowley reached a wing over Aziraphale’s, sliding their plumage together and letting Aziraphale read the rustling of their feathers however he wished.
No, it wasn’t too bad, being a father. One could almost get used to it.
--
*There is a wide-held belief that this is because Michael and Lucifer had really ‘terrible twos’ and God did not want to go through that again.**
**He left humans that way because he was still mad at Adam and Eve for the whole garden thing.
*** When asked, he would say that his years in Hell had undoubtedly caused him to develop masochistic tendencies.
****It was part of the whole pretending-to-be-humans thing.
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Date: 2011-12-08 03:24 am (UTC)