Happy Holidays, Tio-trile! Part 3
Jan. 4th, 2018 03:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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go_exchangeChapter 6: Episode 5
Crowley’s increasingly worn-out look made obvious that he hadn’t gotten much sleep lately.1 Worrying about Ligur, probably. And Adam couldn’t be reached to confirm or deny if he had indeed resurrected the demon!
[1 You may think that, since the demon didn’t need to sleep, Aziraphale wouldn’t understand how he could be tired. But the angel was familiar with the effects of getting accustomed to human habits, especially when living in the same body for a long time. He needed to eat (at least) three times a day.]
Aziraphale did his best to cheer Crowley up. He pretended to find Richard Ayoade’s attempts to come back on Earth funny, although his speech through Marvin Bagman’s mouth embarrassed him a little. The man had written terrible songs,2 he was some kind of an extremist, and Aziraphale had been still worked up by his encounter with Gabriel, but if he’d been aware he’d been on television, he wouldn’t have encouraged people to give money to a Satanist hotline. Thankfully, that had been wiped from people’s memory.
[2 And he’d sung them so awfully off key that it had threatened to give Aziraphale a headache despite the fact he’d had no physical body.]
He’d been lucky to come across Madame Tracy. She had a real gift. She just didn’t know how to use it.
“Fortunately, it wasn’t the evening,” Crowley perfunctorily joked.3
[3 It was already unsettling enough to find your supposedly lost friend inside a woman without her wearing stilettos and a leather corset.]
This was no time to split hairs but that kind of séance wouldn’t have opened a passage to the spiritual plane.4
[4 Yet, it was rumoured that some particularly intense séances could be equated to spiritual experiences. It had tickled Aziraphale’s curiosity, but not enough to spur him to check it out himself, thank you very much.]
The scene shifted to War, Famine and Pollution gathered in a shabby café. Aziraphale found them oddly relatable, suddenly. Human-shape beings amongst humans, just doing their job, playing their part in the Ineffable Plan. He pensively looked at War. So determined. Like Eve when she’d taken his flaming sword, a protective hand on her belly.
The other Four Bikers of the Apocalypse were hilarious. Aziraphale could have enjoyed their lines, at any rate, if Crowley’s laugh hadn’t sounded forced.
Peering with concern at him from time to time, Aziraphale didn’t give more than a blasé look at Richard lying to convince Shadwell that killing an eleven-year-old kid was the right thing to do. The angel knew what it made him look like, and he didn’t expect people to understand the unquestionable rationality of his decision. One life for billions of them. Do the math.
In the meantime, someone else had found a way to get back in the game. Hastur. They knew he’d disappeared from Crowley’s ansaphone. They didn’t know how. The screams of a dozen telephone salespersons choked off one by one, followed by sickening chewing noises. Oh no. Crowley was in no condition to handle that.
He wrapped his knees in his arms. “I had no idea… I never wanted…”
“I know, my dear, I know. You shouldn’t worry about it. I’m sure Adam fixed that too.” Aziraphale had banished any doubt from his voice. He was a better liar than Crowley suspected.5
[5 It had been especially useful when they were enemies. The trick was to lie terribly badly on purpose about insignificant issues.]
Riz Ahmed on his way to Tadfield, sunglasses on, in the flaming Bentley playing The Show Must Go On at full blast should certainly lift Crowley’s spirits, if Aziraphale knew the slightest about what was considered cool. Instead his friend’s features contorted like he was in physical pain.
Aziraphale hesitantly ran his hand over Crowley’s back. The demon quivered. He always seemed simultaneously in need of soothing physical contact and uncomfortable with it.
“Dear, are you sure you want to keep watching? I think this series isn’t doing you any good.”
Crowley shook his head. “Adam said we’re going to understand, at the end. Why did he say that? What are we supposed to understand? I’ve been thinking about it lately, you know.”
Too much, for sure. As usual. So it wasn’t Ligur, after all. Or not only. Aziraphale suppressed a sigh.
“And?”
“And… dunno. Maybe I’m finally gonna get some answers.”
“Answers to what?”
Crowley remained silent, transfixed by the screen.
One week. Just one week and the show would be over. Aziraphale would then ensure that any recording Crowley had certainly made would be accidentally and irremediably erased, because there was not a single damn answer in that silly programme and Crowley would feel better if he could stop overanalysing every trivial word people said, even if they were the Antichrist himself.
Speaking of the (son of the) devil, the boy appeared, struggling more and more with his destiny. There. That was the turning point. Not later, at the air base. But when he’d chosen his friends over the unbridled power that was his birthright.
And that bit about the Johnsonites!6 It’s not good anyone winning. Balance. They were so perceptive. So clever. So much more than his side and Crowley’s. Ex-sides. They were the same as Adam, now. They’d made their own side, that day, with all the humans, through those kids, and Anathema, and Newton, and Shadwell, and Madame Tracy.
[6 It finally rang a bell. Not a sect, after all. Just a gang of kids. Although one could certainly find some similarities.]
They’d all reached the air base now, the demon arriving last.7 The Bentley collapsing into pieces elicited a whine from Crowley.
[7 He’d been far slower than Aziraphale on Madame Tracy’s ridiculous put-putting scooter, but the angel diplomatically avoided highlighting it.]
“I know, I know. She’s all right,” he muttered before Aziraphale could say it.
The Four Horsemen were inside already, and they had to stop them. Everything was in place for the final act. Predictably, the episode ended there.8
[8 Complying with that nowadays inevitable cliffhanger. A concept pioneered by Charles Dickens and named from the protagonist left hanging off a cliff by Thomas Hardy at the end of an episode of “A pair of blue eyes”, which demonstrates once more than television hasn’t come up with anything that literature hadn’t invented already. This statement usually tended to make Crowley bring up game shows and reality TV, which led to a delightful evening of arguing.]
Crowley turned off the television but kept staring at the now black screen.
“Dear?” tried Aziraphale after a solid minute.
“Have you ever wondered if Adam made the right choice?” Crowley abruptly asked without turning his head.
“I don’t understand. Of course, he did. How can you doubt it? He saved the world.”
“Is it saved? Really? I mean… look around you. Is the world better since then?”
Ah. It was one of those days.
“It would’ve been quite nice, on second thought,” resumed Crowley, a feverish look in his eye. “Doing the Earth a favour. Whales, forests as far as the eye can see… A new Eden.”
“That’s sleep deprivation talking. You know how it affects you. We both know it was Adam’s temptation, and what it would’ve led to if he hadn’t resisted. One deciding for everyone else. The end of free will. And ultimately, the Apocalypse. It would’ve left no trees. No whales. No people.”
“You said life would be better, once Heaven won.”
Aziraphale got a lump in his throat.
“Of all the awful things I’ve ever said to you, that one is the worst. It was propaganda and I needed to cling to it. But I was wrong. If Heaven had won, you’d have been killed. How could life be better without you?”
Crowley smiled bitterly, as if he’d been expecting that argument.
“Think about it. Because I have. Without me, no original sin. No war, no famine, no disease or pollution. Humans could have eaten the fruit of the Tree of Life and Death wouldn’t have affected them. And Adam, the actual Adam, I mean… he could have done that.” Crowley’s voice became almost inaudible. “All he had to do was to arrange matters so that I’d never existed.” Aziraphale shuddered at that thought. “He can. I was terrified when I realised it. But sometimes… sometimes, when I’m watching the news, I think that maybe...“
“Don’t say it!” Aziraphale grasped Crowley’s arms and forced the demon to face him. “Don’t you dare even think about it!” Crowley averted his eyes. “Anthony James Crowley, sometimes, I swear, you…” Aziraphale pinched his nose, took a deep breath and forced himself to cool off. He really wasn’t eager to speculate about the Ineffable Plan once more, but Crowley wasn’t leaving him a choice, and he had to think fast. “Listen. In Eden, you said it would’ve been funny if I’d done the bad thing and you, the good one. Have you ever considered we both could have done the good one?” Crowley’s gaze, puzzled and attentive, returned to him. A good start. “You gave them free will. I gave them a way to survive.”
“And we can see every day what they choose to do with both of them,” retorted the demon sourly.
“My point,” Aziraphale said quickly. He was playing a tight game. “They choose. Sometimes they make the right choice, sometimes they don’t. Children can’t become adults if they never have the opportunity to decide for themselves. You gave them that opportunity.” Crowley looked unconvinced, but wavering. “Do you think I never have doubts? Do you think I’m not aware that War’s sword may have been mine? I’ll tell you: I think I’m now ready to face it. Fire can keep one safe and warm, or it can burn and destroy. It depends on what they choose to do with it.”
“Great. They’re burning their own house down, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Could it be possible to miraculously prevent television from ever showing the news again?
“They’re learning. That’s why Adam didn’t bring back the whales. Because humans have to face the consequences of their actions in order to make wiser choices. And it requires free will. See, they need you to exist. The Ineffable Plan needs you to exist.” Aziraphale needed him to exist.
“Wait. Are you telling me that Eve didn’t fail the test? That she passed it, instead?” slowly said Crowley.
For a conversation started only to comfort him, it had derived a surprisingly sensible theory.
“Well… what if it wasn’t a matter of obedience? They’d been arbitrarily told to stay away from knowledge. Was it better to mindlessly conform to that command, or to seek to understand?”
“We’ve seen more than enough of what happens when people obey orders without questioning them.”
“Exactly. And you made her question them.” Aziraphale added quietly, “Like you did with me.”
“Let’s say she did do what He expected. Then why throw them out? Something like, Bye, kids, say goodbye to the comfort of Daddy’s house; you’re ready to live your life and make your own decisions, good luck?”
“Well, you never express that kind of thing like I would but… you can put it that way, I suppose. Children have to, sooner or later.”
They thoughtfully stared into space for a while.
“Why the Apocalypse, then?” eventually asked Crowley. “What did He think? It was a nice experiment, but all good things must come to an end?”
Just when Aziraphale was beginning to think they were out of the woods.
“We can only guess,” he said cautiously, “that it didn’t go as planned thanks to-“
“Don’t you think He may have planned that the Apocalypse could be avoided?” Crowley rattled out. “Maybe it was another test.”
He may… let’s say… maybe… One could get sick by trying to make sense out of ineffability. It was high time to stop Crowley before he made his way further to another of his nervous breakdowns.
“Then humans passed it once more,” Aziraphale asserted decisively. “They raised a child wise enough to choose to decline absolute power. Test or not, what made the difference was free will. Your legacy, dear.”
Crowley seemed to dwell on it. He let out a deep sigh.
“A heavy responsibility upon the shoulders of an eleven-year-old kid.”
“It had to be a kid.”
“Mmh. He’s always been fond of symbols.”
“Symbols are crucial. The kids thwarted the Horsepersons with symbols.”
There was a flash in Crowley’s eyes. “Just like in their games. Humans and their imagination! It created War, Famine and Pollution, and it defeated them. Gosh. That’s so typical of them! The worst and the best.”
At least he was able to see both sides of the coin again.
“Smart kids,” Crowley added dreamily with… yes, that was the hint of a smile, wasn’t it?
“Truly wonderful, the mind of a child is.”
Crowley’s jaw dropping proved to Aziraphale he’d done it right.
“Did you just… quote Star Wars?”
The angel smirked. All he’d needed was something to distract Crowley before he could find a loophole in their reasoning.9
[9 Aziraphale had no time to figure out whether or not there was a loophole, but speculating upon ineffability is like being a blind-folded person in an extremely vast, dark labyrinth. One seems to be progressing towards the exit until they realise they’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere, probably at the very beginning.]
The demon looked baffled as planned. “I thought you knew nothing about it.”
“I didn’t, but I may have watched a couple of episodes since then.”
“Why?”
“You seemed to like it.”
“Did you?”
“It was entertaining. But I’m afraid I randomly selected them and I had some trouble with the chronology. There are three trilogies, right?”
Crowley fell into the trap and launched into an elaborate explanation and a profusely argued comparison of the trilogies’ respective merits.
“Dear,” Aziraphale kindly cut off after a while, “You lost me there. Perhaps you could… show me instead? We could watch…er… the one that you said is the beginning of the story. And I’ll pour us a nice glass of wine while you get the film going, what do you think?”
“I... drank it all last week,” pitifully confessed Crowley.
“Is that the real reason you didn’t want to come with me to the Turner exhibition? Because you were here drinking alone?” Crowley looked down. Had Aziraphale been more impulsive, he wouldn’t have been able to hold back his hand from caressing the demon’s cheek. “Crowley, you don’t have to pretend you’re all right when you’re not.”
“I’m aware of how impossible I am when I feel that way. Didn’t want to be a bother.”
“My dear. Never.”
There was too much to read in Crowley’s eyes when he looked up at him. Aziraphale considered it wiser to focus on materialising a bottle of that Rioja his friend liked so much.
After The Phantom Menace, they moved on to Attack of the Clones.10 Aziraphale asked every naïve question he could think of. A grateful glance from Crowley made the angel suspect he wasn’t exactly duped but his smiles were genuine and Aziraphale got even some real laughter out of him. Each of them was a victory.
[10 Although Crowley told him the more recent episodes weren’t as iconic as the older ones, but let’s leave that debate to the purists.]
Close to the end of the second film, Crowley leaned gently to rest his head on the angel’s shoulder. He’d never done so, even after several bottles, and they’d hardly drunk even one. Aziraphale must have made a mistake when he’d materialised it. He forced himself to keep breathing quietly and staring at the screen.
Soon, Crowley was snoring softly in the crook of the angel’s neck, as he nestled against him in his sleep. Aziraphale did his best to ignore the hand on his belly and the soft hair tickling his cheek. He took care to remain perfectly still, even after the film was over. There was definitely something wrong with the wine, because he felt tipsy himself. Safer to stay here for the night.
Chapter 7: Episode 6
Crowley felt better. Well rested, if not less somewhat bewilderingly high strung. He was aware – as well as grateful and embarrassed1 – that Aziraphale had used a wide range of strategies to ensure he’d gotten a good amount of sleep throughout the past week.2
[1 But still less ashamed than when he’d woken up in the morning after the Star Wars evening, half-lying on Aziraphale and hoping that he hadn’t drooled on the angel’s shoulder (he was pretty sure he had) or that, at least, Aziraphale hadn’t noticed it (Someone, have mercy!).
2 Like inviting him for tea time, making him comfortable on the sofa and reading out loud from what was undoubtedly the most boring book from his collection.]
As for the angel, he was looking forward to the end of the series, hoping Crowley had given up the idea of discovering some hidden message in the last episode.
It did include an answer, though, but for Aziraphale. He couldn’t say it had haunted him, but he was glad to find out he’d sent the air base sergeant to his family home. He should make people disappear more often, actually.3 It was fun. Amazing how a critical situation makes one learn about oneself.
[3 He made a mental list of a handful of stubborn regular customers.]
Newton would have agreed, if Matthew Lewis’s delightful air when all the computers shut down was any indication.4
[4 When he’d mentioned James Bond, Crowley had looked at him like one would at someone wearing the same fan t-shirt as them in a convention.]
It was frightening to be reminded how close the Apocalypse had been to occurring. If Anathema had been less clever and the Them less brave, if Beelzebub and the Metatron had convinced the exhausted boy…
“Angel, I must say, your speech was outstanding.”
“Oh, dear, only because you brilliantly followed suit.”
“No, really, casting doubt on the Divine Plan was so smart.”
“I borrowed that from you. You’re always so good at making me question it.”
“I mean, okay, Adam’s free will and all that but... He was about to crack. Without us…”
“They were so lucky we were there.”
“We saved the world, no less.”
They exchanged a self-satisfied look.
The series somehow differed and praised their feat a bit stingily, highlighting Adam’s contribution instead.
“We can clearly see who wrote this,” Crowley taunted.
But they willingly recognised they owed him. “I know all about you two. Don’t you worry” sounded like a reiterated, comforting promise. Unsettling, too, since the boy playing Adam oddly seemed to speak directly to them through the screen.
We are the Champions stopped short as the ground started cracking, letting yellow smoke gush.
“I shouldn’t have asked you to come with me. It was your boss. And you had only a tyre iron, for Christ’s sake!” said Aziraphale, his voice filled with remorse, as if he’d just realised it. “But… I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“No way I’d have let you fight alone. And… you made me feel free.”
Free and trustworthy. The most precious gift he’d ever been given.
Richard Ayoade was holding out his hand to Riz Ahmed. That didn’t look so hard. Manageable, if Crowley avoided waffling back and forth, for once. With a hopeful and inviting look, he moved his hand on the couch, palm up, toward the angel’s. Aziraphale took it, a quiet smile replacing his briefly surprised air.
He’d looked so fearsome that day, brandishing his flaming sword and standing resolutely, his wings unfurled. It was only fair that Richard was the coolest one in this scene. Not that Crowley was worrying about it for now. Aziraphale’s hand was warm in his. Everything was fine.
And since, this time, nobody pushed them apart, they held hands until Adam’s human father arrived instead of his other father, until the world was safe and until the Water Music led in to a sunny Sunday morning.
“Not too painful?” asked Crowley, as Newton and Anathema burned the Further Nice and Accurate Prophecies.
“Not in the slightest. I’d bet my collection of snuffboxes that all the pages were blank. Besides, I’m done with books of predictions.”
“That’s why the substitution of your books didn’t sadden you?”
“I miss those that Oscar gave to me. But, you know, I’d have known, deep down, that they weren’t the same. Those children’s books are actually quite amusing. And they’re valuable first editions.”5
[5 Of course they attracted more children to his shop. But he had no qualms about glaring at them as well.]
“You’re irredeemable.”
Aziraphale ignored him and frowned at the screen. “Is that part of our conversation in St James’s made up? I don’t remember we talked about the Ineffable Plan.”6
[6 If they could have remembered, they would have noticed that their talk had been slightly altered. But only a certain tall stranger could have attested to that.]
Crowley tried to dissipate the mist enveloping his memory, but it was hard to focus with Aziraphale sitting that close, making him confusedly want something. The hell if Crowley knew what it was.
“Our lunch at the Ritz was real, though,” resumed Aziraphale. “What a delightful time we had, didn’t we?” This didn’t really require an answer, but Crowley’s silence was heavy. Aziraphale questioningly turned to him. Crowley’s ashen face was alarming. “Dear?” He didn’t react. What was so… The song. He was listening to the song the pianist at the Ritz was singing.
The whole darn world seemed upside down.
The streets of town were paved with stars,
It was such a romantic affair.
And as we kissed and said goodnight,
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.
Aziraphale’s brain stumbled over the lyrics.
“Are they… implying… we’re... in love?” Unconsciously, he slowly lifted a hand up to cover his mouth. After a moment in which he could do nothing but blankly stare at the screen, he rested his hand at the base of his neck and forcibly moved his thoughts out of their rut. He was familiar enough with subtext to know the answer to his question. It was just a way to delay the real one. “Are we?”
Aziraphale’s voice wasn’t much more than a whisper, but Crowley flinched nonetheless. They nervously looked at each other, dumbfounded and somewhat apprehensive.
“Are you... in love with me?” they asked in unison.
“You answer first!” Crowley hurried on.
From the very moment he’d heard the song, he’d known. It was like someone had finally switched on the unlit neon he’d been restlessly circling, unsuccessfully trying to decipher, for several weeks. The series had made him aware of its presence, but he took for granted that it had been in his mind, inconspicuous, concealed under the lies he’d always excelled at telling himself, for God knew how long. Now the neon was flashing on and off saying “I’M IN LOVE WITH AZIRAPHALE!” in huge letters that couldn’t have been more obvious if they’d been underlined twice.
But he couldn’t run the risk of confessing it and exposing himself to Aziraphale’s response. In a fraction of a second, he’d imagined each of his possible reactions, and how almost all of them would ruin their relationship, either shattering or slowly eroding it.
Everything in the angel’s face was conveying something like, “Okay since you want me to answer, I’m going to do it.” He stood up and took a few steps away from the couch. Then he stopped, his back turned, messing up his already untidy hair with a hesitant hand.
His unbearable prolonged silence was anything but a good omen.
Eventually he said awkwardly, without turning around, “I’m sorry...”
Oh no. Crowley closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. No, please, no.
“I’m sorry… I wish I could answer straight away but… I have to be absolutely sure first.”
Aziraphale knew he loved Crowley. Friendship is a form of love. But was he in love with Crowley? This was such a human feeling. Could angels fall in love?
“Do you understand?” he added guiltily, facing his friend at last.
Crowley nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes riveted on his lap. God, he looked so miserable. Like he was about to be sentenced to death.
God. Crowley was in love with him!
Aziraphale struggled to get a grip on himself. He couldn’t allow that to influence his answer. It shouldn’t sway his thought. It wouldn’t be fair. If he answered lightly, in one way or the other, Crowley would be hurt, now or later. Because Crowley was in love with him. And the last thing Aziraphale wanted to do was hurt him.
Heck, how was he supposed to think rationally about the difference between friendship and romance with all this bliss expanding in his chest?
Crowley was in love with him.
The angel didn’t know if he was on the verge of crying tears of joy, letting out a victory roar, or laughing euphorically. Perhaps all three at once.
This was the answer he was looking for. So simple, so evident.
He gazed at Crowley. At the dark hair, a lock falling across his lowered forehead. At the no less dark eyelashes, now allowing only a glimpse of his downcast, beautiful, golden eyes. At the slender, graceful hands he was wringing nervously.
He knew all this by heart. And yet it seemed so new.
Dizzy, he wondered why he was still foolishly standing there, so dreadfully far away from Crowley, when he wanted nothing more than to hug him and to share with him this wondrous revelation.
He was in love with Crowley.
Aziraphale knelt in front of him and took him so suddenly, so tightly in his arms that it knocked out of Crowley the breath he’d been holding.
“Oh, Crowley. Yes. Yes, I love you. I’m in love with you.”
Aziraphale’s words were interspersed with hysterical laughs and, for a few seconds,
Crowley was stunned, unsure he’d heard him right. But the angel didn’t let him go, repeating those marvelous, exhilarating words again and again, in an increasingly steady voice, until Crowley allowed himself to believe them and melt into the embrace.
“Aziraphale?”
“Yes.”
“I love you too,” said Crowley, grinning ecstatically into the angel’s thick curls.
He’d almost forgotten how strong Aziraphale was under his deceptively mild appearance. Ah well, Crowley’s ribs could be healed later.
Aziraphale finally loosened his clasp, but he couldn’t bear to end this intoxicating contact. He was drunk with his friend’s scent and warmth, and Crowley’s body pressed against his was making his stomach flutter and his skin tingle in an utterly pleasant way.
It was a familiar sensation, he realised in amazement. Stronger, but similar to how he’d felt every time he’d touched Crowley since… he couldn’t remember when.
“How could I have been so blind?” he murmured.
“Aren’t you meant to be some sort of expert in love?” Crowley teased fondly.
“Clearly not for myself. Or, at least, not this kind of love. It’s so…”
Crowley slightly disentangled himself from Aziraphale and gave him a knowing look.
“Human?”
“Yes.”
They stared into each other’s eyes, unable to restrain a broad, radiant smile, until Crowley said in an amused voice, “Are you planning on kneeling there till the next End of the World? You can release me to sit back on the couch, you know. I’m not going anywhere.”
Aziraphale sat next to him, even closer than before. But now, Crowley knew exactly what he wanted.
“Angel…” Funny how this sounded different now. Or maybe not so different. Not the right time to ponder on it, anyway. “While we’re at this human business… do you think we could…”
Crowley felt his cheeks and ears get hot. He was maybe pushing his luck. But, nothing ventured… “What I mean is… would you mind if… if I ki-mpfmmmh“
Sweet Somebody. Aziraphale was kissing him. Crowley pulled himself together and kissed him back. Perhaps he should tilt his head a little. Yes, better. Aziraphale’s lips parted and they grazed Crowley’s in such a thrilling- Oh. Oh. Okay, okay, what was he supposed to do with his tongue, precisely? Twisting? Clockwise or not? He felt like a perfect idiot. Six thousand years on Earth and he’d never thought about practising. Reassuringly, Aziraphale was no expert either.
Ah, for Earth’s sake! Couldn’t Crowley’s brain just shut up for once, and let him enjoy the moment? Aziraphale was solid against him, steady. He slipped an arm around Crowley, anchoring him firmly. The demon relaxed. There was no shame in letting his angel call the shots.
It was clumsy, and wet, and absolutely wonderful.
Crowley’s fingers clung to Aziraphale’s jumper. Never let him go. Never stop kissing him. But soon, too soon, the angel pulled away, eyes shining and cheeks exquisitely pink.
Emboldened, Crowley closed the gap and, tightening his grip on his jumper, pulled him into another kiss. Aziraphale seemed more than happy to oblige.
Crowley felt more confident this time. He’d always been a quick learner. And a tongue able to do weird things was definitely a valuable asset. His other hand slid along Aziraphale’s jaw to his hair. The demon revelled in the soft moan he elicited. Oh, he could so easily get addicted to this.
But kissing is hard when both parties are beaming that much. Keen as they were on making it last, they had to break the kiss when Aziraphale started laughing softly. A laugh so incredibly overjoyed that Crowley couldn’t help but follow suit. Forehead against forehead, they remained oblivious to the ending of the programme, until the first notes of the closing theme made them blink at the television screen, just in time to catch the last images.
Disobeying his father, Adam escaped from the garden, an apple in his hand, eagerly looking for new adventures. He winked, facing the camera. Then a fade to black shifted to the credit roll.
“Full circle,” murmured Aziraphale.
“He knew, right? About us,” said Crowley in a low, cautious voice. “Do you think it was what he meant by You’ll understand, at the end?”
“It would be a little presumptuous to assume he wrote a whole script for this purpose. But we can’t exclude it was one of his goals.”
“And the Ineffable Plan?”
“What about the Ineffable Plan?” Aziraphale asked unenthusiastically. He was hoping to do a lot of activities with Crowley that were more pleasurable than talking about the Ineffable Plan.
“No answers?”
“Only questions. We have to make up our own answers, I guess.”
“Another of Adam’s goals? Using an outwardly purely entertaining story to make people think?”
“Well, he does that all the time through his job. That’s why his books are good. Anyway, he was right.”
“About?”
“It’s all for the best. Or at least, it would be if you could stop asking questions for a moment and kiss me instead.”
Crowley made a point of wiping that smirk off Aziraphale’s lips with a long, passionate kiss worthy of a James Bond movie.
“They should’ve concluded the series with a kiss,” he eventually said, magnanimously granting to the angel a short respite to collect himself. “It’s always a good ending for a story.”
Aziraphale smiled, tenderly running his thumb over Crowley’s cheekbone. “Rather a good beginning.”
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-04 02:15 pm (UTC)*nice*
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-04 07:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-04 06:32 pm (UTC)You finally made me cry.
Like, real heavy, snotty crying.
Which is horrible when you want to read, cause you can't see.
And also horrible when you simultaneously have to smile like an idiot, because tears don't taste too nice.
I don't remember the last time I cried and laughed out of happiness and pure bliss over a story.
This was... so wonderful.
Not only that they finally, FINALLY, committed to their feelings, but also HOW they did it.
With the neon-sign and with Aziraphale realising his own reaction towards Crowley's feelings is the answer he has been searching for.
This put such a delight in my heart that just thinking of it makes me cry and laugh again and clutch my chest.
I love those two idiots SO MUCH and you have written such a wonderful, funny, entertaining, deep and on-point story about them.
They way Crowley is questioning everything and Aziraphale is reassuring him, the way they marvel at each other on screen, they way Aziraphale takes care of his depressive boyfriend.
"Aziraphale needed him to exist."
Just... God.
I cannot put my love for this story in words.
All I can say is that I'm glad I have an entire roll of toilet paper standing next to me, because... tears everywhere.
Happy tears full of feels and love and fluff.
Thank you so much for this fic.
It was really and truly wonderful and I think I will now lie down on the floor for a while in fetus position because my body is not equipped to handle so many positive feels.
With much, much love, much tears and a huge, big hug (or, if you don't like hugs, a huge, big jar full of cookies)
Staubengel
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-04 07:42 pm (UTC)Really, I can't express how much I appreciate your comments! They're so precious!
I didn't want to make you cry but, my god, this is such a compliment <3
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-04 08:47 pm (UTC)thank you for your precious replies, and welcome to the floor :'D
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-04 06:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-04 07:57 pm (UTC)Yeah, Aziraphale had to make amends, right?
I'm uh... sorry? flattered? about your existential questioning episode. Crowley can't turn off his brain, the poor marshmallow (<-- he's going to love it ;))
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-04 08:51 pm (UTC)Don't be sorry, it's great that the fic could captivate me so much. I've never thought Crowley would end up thinking the world could be a better place without him, when there are more menacing baddies like Hastur, Ligur, and, oh yes, Satan, to worry about. When he met Adam I always just assumed he knew the Antichrist could erase him, and that he could easily find a reason to... But I'd thought the reason would be either *what* he was (an infernal agent), or his effective treason (in trying to stop the Apocalypse). I've never imagined him thinking the reason could have been specifically *who* he was and what he did millennia ago, even if it had been a major event. But the way you wrote it, his theory even made sense, and I'm incredibly glad Aziraphale was there to try and convince him otherwise. And I would offer all my hugs to poor Crowley if (A) he wouldn't find it embarrassing and (B) he wouldn't havea certain book-seller who can provide him with much better hugs. :)
Also, I usually try *not* to imagine how Crowley would react to my comments about him (honestly, to the majority of the fandom's thoughts about him), but this time I really couldn't avoid it XD Poor marshmellow, indeed... On the other hand, just to have it in writing somewhere: Crowley, we know you can be scary, but human memory is strangely selective. :D
But, getting back to the fic: i forgot to mention, but i found it a great addition how Crowley had never killed anyone except for a demon who came to attack him, and how he felt partially relieved that said demon might have been resurrected. Again, i would offer hugs, but i fear t might offend Crowley :)
Oh, and, and, and! I just randomly remembered the part where
"Richard’s endless tirade left both Gabriel and Crowley speechless, before he stormed out.
“You really… said that… to Gabriel?”
“I may have gotten a little carried away,” conceded Aziraphale, with no trace of regret."
... and i ended up snickering for ten minutes again :D
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-05 11:30 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-04 09:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-05 11:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-04 11:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-05 11:05 am (UTC)Thanks for your comments!
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-05 08:18 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-05 11:23 am (UTC)Very few hurt, a lot of comfort :) Tbh I mostly wanted to write a story with friends being nice with each other. Bc sometimes, just a bit of sweetness is all I want to read.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-06 03:18 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-07 06:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-06 11:11 am (UTC)"Crowley nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes riveted on his lap. God, he looked so miserable. Like he was about to be sentenced to death."
But the ending fixed everything! ❤️
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-07 06:36 pm (UTC)Heartwarming was my goal so...
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-08 11:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-09 08:41 am (UTC)Sous-le-saule
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-14 04:11 am (UTC)Oh, my god. This just got so interesting and intense so fast. Crowley asking if Adam should have changed the world after all....and if he should have erased HIM (something I've never thought about and that's a whole new angst for me to fixate on for a while now, my goodness). I'm just so glad Aziraphale is not accepting ANY of this for ONE SECOND. But I know Crowley is hard to convince...doubt....
" Have you ever considered we both could have done the good one?”" I have never read or thought of this through all my time in this fandom but it's SUCH a good answer to such an important question!!!
"Could it be possible to miraculously prevent television from ever showing the news again?" Oh my god, I can relate to this thought
All of the discussion and thought here about everything is really cool. I'll confess I just expected this to be a cute fluff fic (which I love anyway), but it's so much more!
When I'm reading or watching something that I really like and I get emotional from it, sometimes I have to get up and walk around for a bit before I read on. I've done that a few times from this whole fic, but when Crowley FELL ASLEEP on Aziraphale's shoulder, I just sort of sat there staring at the screen for a minute XD
Love the Neon sign bit, like a reference to what he'd said about the fruit in the garden :)
"His unbearable prolonged silence was anything but a good omen." NOOOO
"Heck, how was he supposed to think rationally about the difference between friendship and romance with all this bliss expanding in his chest?" I am LMAO
SUCH A GOOD KISS
I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!! I'm so emotional over here X'O I'm so glad you wrote this prompt! The last words are wonderful too :') Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-14 11:20 am (UTC)"I'll confess I just expected this to be a cute fluff fic (which I love anyway), but it's so much more!" Thanks! I'd planned to write nothing more than a cute fluff fic tbh but Crowley's existential crisis broke in.
"I've done that a few times from this whole fic, but when Crowley FELL ASLEEP on Aziraphale's shoulder, I just sort of sat there staring at the screen for a minute" that's a compliment!!! Frankly I thought a lot about what I like in your fics while writing this, and it helped me.
Thank you for your comments!
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-14 06:36 pm (UTC)AHHHHH thank YOU! That's such a good compliment to me too!!! Now your replies are making me stare off into space emotionally, too! XD
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-16 02:35 am (UTC)My, what an amazing ending to a wonderful fic. I was emotionally intrigued and involved the whole way through. The part towards the beginning made me think of what I've always thought of the theme of the book and said to my friends: There is no "Good" without "Evil", no happiness without sadness or anger, and if everything is all "good" there is no meaning to the word and no actual happiness. Meaning is created through comparason.
————————annnnd Prequel Memes always cheers a person (or a demon?) up, of course. Hello there!
Crowley falling asleep on Aziraphale's shoulder was such a cute image......
And of course. These two dorks had to wait until after six thousand years and a TV show written by an Antichrist to realize that they were in love...but the payoff is so great and all my teeth fell off from the pure sweetness!!!
Thank you THANK YOU THANK YOU for this journey!
-Tio_trile
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-20 09:54 am (UTC)I totally agree with you.
"These two dorks had to wait until after six thousand years and a TV show written by an Antichrist to realize that they were in love..."
*sighs* they're so dense. Fortunately Adam had realized they might need six more millennia, without a little push :)
I'm very happy you liked it! Thank you for your detailed comments!
(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-22 03:32 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2018-01-23 06:19 am (UTC)