Happy Holidays, Lunatique! Part 3
Jan. 2nd, 2019 05:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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go_exchangeTraveling, Thinking, and Tasting - Part 3!
***
Aziraphale woke to the feeling of something prodding his face. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Crowley was staring down at him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
“What’s the special occasion?” Aziraphale asked, stretching his arms. “Knowing your love of sleep, I’m surprised that you’ve been the one waking me up.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” He gestured to the city below. “Since we’re here, I thought we might as well indulge in some sappy romance with a view of the sunrise.”
Aziraphale straightened up and peered toward what he thought was the east. After a few tries, he managed to spot the sun’s brilliant orange gradient ascending in the sky.
“Thoughtful of you,” he said, yawning to rouse himself fully. Feeling more awake, he stood up and headed to the railing. “The view never ceases to amaze.”
“I knew you’d say that,” Crowley said with satisfaction. “I was also thinking we might hit Rome before all the tourists are up. If we head out now, we’ll have some wiggle-room.”
Even in his sluggish state, Aziraphale knew that wasn’t quite right. “If we fly at our usual rate, it’ll take about half an hour to arrive.”
“But if we travel at the speed of light, or maybe electrons, we’ll make it there in half a second.”
Aziraphale frowned at Crowley. “I don’t think I’ve, er, teleported like that in quite some time.”
“It’s no problem,” Crowley said, “I’ll help you keep up. Even if we slow a bit, we’ll be fine.”
Aziraphale stretched before extending his wings. “Any other advice for the out-of-shape?”
Crowley extended his wings in kind. “We’ll pace ourselves. Also, we’ve got to, well, shrink.”
Without warning, he disappeared before Aziraphale could say that he knew that already.
Aziraphale focused on taking up less space, to the point where he could discern his individual molecules. It took a few seconds to adjust, but, once he did, he zipped off into the sky.
The scenery below flew by too fast for him to see much. He spotted Crowley a few centimeters ahead, but it might as well have been a mile. When he noticed that Crowley had begun his descent, he followed, not glancing elsewhere until they landed and returned to their usual size.
Had breathing been a required action, Aziraphale would have been doubled over and gasping.
“Okay,” he panted harshly, “let’s avoid doing that for the rest of the trip if we can.”
Crowley was less winded, although he looked somewhat drained. “I second that.” When he glanced around, he saw that they stood in a grassy area not far from the Colosseum. “I figured that we can enjoy sightseeing without the hassle of dealing with tourists.”
The Colosseum was not open for visitors, but they found the gates open anyway.
“I remember this place,” Aziraphale said as they climbed to the uppermost tier. “This is where the emperors sat while watching events.” He made a face. “Some of them were rather bloody.”
“I hope you’re not forgetting about Commodus,” Crowley said beside him. “He didn’t just sit here, but also fought some gladiators himself. I think he had a few screws loose, but he survived.”
Aziraphale nodded. “Decius slaughtered early converts to Christianity here. Nasty business.”
Crowley held his hands up, “Whoa, that wasn’t my doing,” he said. He recalled speaking with several emperors for various reasons, although he had rarely tracked the fallout. “Even then, you know how far humans took their cruelties toward each other.”
Aziraphale’s gaze focused. “Oh, sorry. I wasn’t accusing you, dear boy. Merely reflecting.”
“Some of those emperors turned out all right,” Crowley said amiably. “Augustus did well by his subjects and kept the peace.”
The angel nodded. “I do remember. A rather chipper fellow.” He straightened up and said, “You always do see the best in people, don’t you?”
“Don’t mention it,” Crowley sighed, taking interest in the texture of the stone floor beneath him. “It’ll dampen the tone if we keep sulking about history. I think we still have some more time before the public swarms in. We should keep exploring.”
They continued to stroll the various levels of the structure, chatting animatedly all the while.
After a while, a few official-looking, uniformed humans headed toward the Colosseum entrance.
“There’s our cue to leave,” Aziraphale said. He turned back to Crowley and found him balancing on the railing. “I said, we really should be going,” he reiterated, raising his voice.
Crowley jerked forward and pinwheeled his arms to keep balance. “All right, then.”
This time, Aziraphale led the way. They crossed a bridge over the Tiber, and Aziraphale agreed to pose for a photograph with Crowley. By the time they arrived at their destination, it seemed that the city had almost fully awakened.
Impressive brick archways framed the entrance to a green park. Some trails led people further in, although trees partially obscured the view.
Aziraphale glanced around for a moment before continuing forward. “We’re here,” he said. “This is the Villa Doria Pamphili. I wonder what the place looks like now.”
Crowley joined him under the brick archway and glanced around. “How big is this place?”
“I’m not quite sure, but from what I remember, you could spend a whole day here and not get bored. Fortunately for us, we have all the time in the world.”
Trails intertwined and connected different locations of the park. Aziraphale had to make sure that Crowley didn’t stray too far in his quest to terrify the leaves off unsuspecting plants. One of the pathways led to a grassy space with a fountain. They materialized a convenient bench.
For a long time, neither of them spoke, and then Crowley asked, “You wondered what the place looked like now. Does this bring back memories?”
“Yes. The building was beautiful, as were the hedge mazes around it. I always enjoyed the more secluded areas of the villa.” He glanced at Crowley. “I’m surprised that you haven’t been here. I thought it would have been your style, what with the plants and all.”
“I wasn’t really into plants at the time,” he said. “Not to mention that whenever I had the chance to go to Rome, I was always on political missions.” Instead of dwelling on it, he decided to change the topic. “I agree with what you said, though. I wouldn’t mind spending some days out here, and I can see why the emperors were so fond of this architecture.”
Aziraphale gestured at the landscape. “Even then, people wanted to escape from the urban sprawl. A personal garden paradise seemed like the best solution.”
“Kind of like St. James’s Park.” Crowley reflected on the pond that they had passed earlier on their stroll. There had been a fence around it, and no ducks. “That is part of why I like to keep potted plants in my flat. When they actually behave themselves, it feels like...”
“I doubt they feel like it’s Paradise.” Aziraphale smiled when he saw Crowley’s shocked expression. “I’m well aware of what a comeback is, you know.”
“First you approve my schemes, and now you’re throwing shade.” Crowley made no attempt to hide his amusement. “I’ve been a bad influence on you, angel.”
“And I on you, my dear.” Aziraphale stared at the fountain some more and listened to the water.
“Mutual corruption and redemption.” Crowley studied how the water wet the concrete border while the concrete kept the water contained. “Nothing’s static forever.”
On leaving, finding a gelato place proved to be an easy task. They sat on another park bench. Aziraphale bit into the scoop of gelato, and then licked a droplet that had traveled down the side of the cone. “What flavors did you get?”
Crowley licked the top scoop of his cone. “Chocolate-hazelnut and raspberry.” He wrapped his tongue around the gelato scoop and made a noise of contentment. “Goes well together. Could use a bit more hazelnut, though.”
“That sounds delicious. I ordered zabaione mixed with mango.” Aziraphale took a bite that incorporated both scoops. “Before I forget, I should like to shop for some books.”
“More books?” Crowley asked. “Isn’t your shop overflowing with stock as it is?”
It didn’t take them that long to locate a quaint, yet bustling retail thoroughfare.
Despite the old-fashioned style of the bookshop’s brick walls, the books themselves were rather modern. Aziraphale guessed that maybe some older books lay farther back.
After purchasing a mystery book and a guide on plant care, Crowley stood near the entrance and flipped avidly through the pages.
“I knew you’d benefit from some reading,” Aziraphale told him, peering over his shoulder.
Crowley flinched. As expected, Aziraphale held a large stack of books in his hands, and Crowley guessed that he was cheating to keep them from falling over.
“That’s a massive haul,” he said with disapproval. “How are you going to bring them with you?”
“I’ll find a way,” Aziraphale said. He unzipped his tartan suitcase. He miracled the books inside while Crowley gaped. “Wipe that look off your face. It’s called efficiency.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Crowley replied, holding his hands up. “You know, the gelato was good, but I think we should get something substantial. Shall I tempt you to some supper?”
Aziraphale tsked to himself, but the humor in his next words betrayed him. “Who am I to resist?”
They found dinner at the Trattoria da Cesare al Casaletto. Soft lighting accentuated the red-and-white walls, and some reflected off the shiny wooden floor.
Aziraphale fished one of the clam-shells from his pasta and ate the meat inside.
“You know, I wish I had gotten the veal in Paris, just to see how it compares to this.” He set the empty shell to the side and took a bite of veal. “This veal is rather tasty.”
“I know,” Crowley said. He twirled the pasta around his fork and paired it with a mushroom. “With all the pasta options, some of it’s bound to give Paris a run for its reputation.”
The angel nodded. “London’s well enough, but I think we’ve missed out on a great deal.”
“Well, we have it now. We can enjoy it while it lasts.”
Although Crowley’s comment was offhand, it gave them both pause. They exchanged a glance, each waiting to see if the other would elaborate, but neither one of them spoke.
Conversations floated around them, so they continued their discussion. They even sampled each other’s dishes. However, a solemn mood had entered the atmosphere, and it lingered even after.
Aziraphale glanced at the sky. “We ought to head to our next location soon,” he said wistfully.
“I was thinking Berlin,” Crowley said. “I have a plan for what I want to do there.” When Aziraphale whipped around to face him, he said, “No, it’s not a work-related plan. But we should hit up one more location before we leave.”
“Where?” Aziraphale asked. “I hate to say it, but I’m quite full.”
“The Leaning Tower, of course. Since we’re so keen on towers.”
The answer took Aziraphale by surprise. “That’s not even in Rome.”
“I know, but it’s in the direction that we’re headed anyway.” It was Crowley’s turn to guess Aziraphale’s thought process. “And sure, it may be touristy, but I thought you didn’t mind.”
Aziraphale had no argument for that. “Very well, then. Let’s head off.”
The flight to the Leaning Tower of Pisa took less than a half hour. When they arrived, some humans stood around taking photographs of the tower. Warm sunlight shone on the pale stone.
Crowley contemplated landing on top of the building and giving the humans a scare, but he landed on some nearby grass with Aziraphale. Once they had righted themselves, they headed forward to appreciate the tower in all its tilted glory.
Aziraphale scanned the building with his gaze, doing his best to commit every detail to memory.
Next to him, Crowley snapped a whole slew of photographs, some of which included Aziraphale.
After a while, he said, “Hey, angel. Can you take a picture with me and the tower?”
“Certainly,” Aziraphale said, “but can you not take the photograph yourself?”
“Not for what I want.” Crowley paused before launching into a long explanation. “Here is the lens; you point that at whatever you want to capture. Once I say ready, you aim the lens at me and press this button. Understand?”
“Very funny,” Aziraphale said. “You’re forgetting the extent of my technological prowess.”
“Whatever.” Crowley waited for Aziraphale to back up enough to get him and the tower in the photograph. Once he was far enough away, he dug his heels into the ground and held his hands up so they angled with the side of the building. “All right. Take the picture.”
For a moment, Aziraphale wondered if this was some sort of joke. “I may not be the most pop-culture literate, but even I recognize how much of a tourist cliche this is.”
“And who said he didn’t mind acting like a tourist?” Crowley laughed at Aziraphale’s eye roll.
“Insufferable,” Aziraphale said. He snapped a few photographs. “There. Pictures taken.”
“Thanks,” Crowley said. “I could get a picture of you like that, too, if you wanted.”
“If it isn’t a hassle.” Aziraphale debated what pose to take and eventually settled on a smile.
“It’s what I’m here for.” Crowley glanced around for the clear patch of lawn and was relieved to find it still empty. “All right, let’s hit the sky for Berlin before someone notices.”
The sun was beginning to set along the horizon, and they admired the aerial view as they flew. Once nightfall arrived, they lowered their altitude as Berlin crept into view below.
Once they landed, Aziraphale said, “Well, that was a rather nice flight.” He glanced at his wings and made a face. “Probably should groom these eventually. It’s been a while.”
“No kidding,” Crowley muttered. He ducked out of the way of one wing that jerked in his direction before retracting his own. “I’d wait until London. No use in cleaning them now.”
A short walk brought them onto a main thoroughfare. Aside from a few cars, the streets were mostly empty. The occasional street-lamp flickered. They reached an intersection, and more humans appeared. Brick walls flanked a gateway ahead, and a flowerbed stood between the pathways.
One young man stood out in the crowd, as he held an umbrella. Upon closer inspection, they realized that the umbrella was attached to a device he wore on his back. Strapped to the front of his torso was what looked like a mobile grill. CURRYWURST was written in bold letters on the glass shield.
Once they had ordered, they stepped aside. Currywursts in hand, they headed for the gateway.
“I wonder who came up with the idea to put curry powder on a sausage,” Crowley said between bites. “I wouldn’t have thought that the combination would work.”
“I think it was developed a few years after the Second World War.” Aziraphale paused to wipe some sauce off of his mouth. “I never met the inventor, but I think she was rather resourceful.”
“Well, her efforts certainly paid off.” They stopped at a trash can to dispose of their empty paper boats. “The Currywurst guy said the Botanical Center was nearby. I say we should visit.”
“You and your plants,” Aziraphale said, “but we can try to see if it’s still open. Some tourist attractions close earlier than others.” He glanced at the trail’s surroundings, with tall trees and the bright lights strung between branches. “Even if it’s closed, I’m happy to stay out here.”
A short while later, they stood inside one of the greenhouses. A narrow stone pathway allowed pedestrians to navigate. They passed by specimens of all different colors and forms, each one looking green and pristine in their plant paradise. The occasional bench provided a place of rest and contemplation, but they walked by them, not wanting to waste a moment.
Aziraphale glanced at one tree with its branches stretching all the way to the ceiling. “Look at those spiky leaves,” he said, pointing them out to Crowley. “Imagine having that in your flat.”
Crowley stood next to him and glanced up. “It’s a nice-looking specimen,” he admitted. “However, it would be a pain. I doubt it would respond as favorably in London.”
“You have a point there,” Aziraphale said. “All these plants look quite confident. I doubt you can pull off your plant-scaring tactics in here.”
“Don’t doubt me, angel.” He walked a few meters and stared at a herbaceous plant that seemed to droop. “This one could work on its posture. It’d be a shame if guests came tomorrow and found one less plant.” The shrub trembled before straightening its branches a fraction.
“Really, my dear?” Aziraphale said, but neither of them would’ve had it any other way.
Crowley turned to face him. “Since you’re suddenly a plant expert, what d’you have in mind?”
“How about encouragement? Positivity? You’d be surprised how well it works.”
Crowley rolled his eyes, but Aziraphale refused to be discouraged. After some searching, he found a plant that had strong color, but appeared to be drooping.
Aziraphale leaned forward and said, “Hello there. You’re doing a fine job with the, er, chlorophyll and...photosynthesis.” He ignored Crowley snickering behind him and continued. “If you’d just straighten up, you might grab a bit more sunlight, hmmm?”
To Crowley’s surprise, the plant responded in the same way that the other one had. On top of that, it seemed to perk up a bit more instead of shivering.
“Impressive,” he said grudgingly. “I bet it was just a one-time thing, though. Besides, it’s your job to be positive. I doubt it’d work as well if I tried it.”
Aziraphale pointed to another drooping plant on the other side of the walkway. “Don’t be absurd. We’ve already determined you’re aware of your optimism.”
Crowley sighed and walked over. A long list of subtle threats and insults popped to mind, but he shoved them to the side and said, in the most positive tone he could muster, “Hey, you’re doing a great job there. Showing some real initiative.” He internally cringed at how fake he sounded. “All you need is to unfurl those new shoots, and you’ll be good to go.”
At first, nothing happened. Crowley was about to resort to the threats he’d thought of earlier when he noticed the plant’s branches shifting upward.
“Hey,” he said brightly, unable to contain his surprise. “Well done.”
“You, too, dear boy,” Aziraphale said, standing next to him. “Maybe now you’ll switch tactics.”
“Maybe,” Crowley said, glancing forward at the plants ahead. A thought occurred to him. “Wait, so...if encouragement works for me, shouldn’t you be able to scare them?”
To Crowley’s shock, Aziraphale stood in front of another bush a few feet away and got up close.
“Tsk,” he said, his voice assuming a startlingly hard edge. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed those brown spots on your leaves. You know what happens to plants that can’t keep up!”
All Crowley could do was stare. A sinking feeling entered his stomach, and he had to remind himself that this was the angel that he was dealing with. The spots faded significantly.
As if a switch had been flipped, Aziraphale’s smile returned. “Good job,” he said, patting the plant’s leaves. He turned to Crowley. “Well, that was satisfying,” he said.
“No kidding,” Crowley said. “For a second, I had flashbacks of some of the heavenly higher-ups. Wouldn’t have expected such an effective, uh, smiting impression from you.”
The angel shrugged. “I’ve encountered plenty of my colleagues in the line of duty. It’s why I tend to limit contact if I can.” He studied Crowley’s expression. “I’m guessing you’ve had run-ins with some of them. You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Crowley admitted. “I’d rather not dwell on it. Why don’t we continue exploring? I’m sure there are a few thousand plant species here.”
By the time they left, a whole slew of English, German, and Latin plant names buzzed about Aziraphale’s head. With how late it was, he was convinced that Crowley would want to sleep.
Instead, the demon seemed more energized than before.
“What are you planning?” Aziraphale asked.
“Why do you always assume I’m plotting?” Even though Crowley tried to sound innocent, Aziraphale recognized the subtle undertone that meant he had a scheme in mind.
“I know you, you old serpent,” he said. “You’re always thinking ahead. Wiles and wiles.”
“How’s improv comedy working out for you?” At this point, Crowley made no effort to hide his excitement. “You’ve heard of the Autobahn, yeah?” Aziraphale’s blank expression said it all. “I’ll give you the short version: it’s a highway where some segments have no posted speed limit. As a result, people can drive as fast as they want.”
“Oh. I thought that’s what you always do.”
“Yes, but I still want to try driving on it.”
They reached an empty street with a small car park. Sitting smack in the middle with open spots all around it, the Bentley looked just as they’d left it in Edinburgh. They got in.
Crowley’s smile lingered as he drove, and he sighed with satisfaction as he steered the car. “I’ve missed this,” he said. “Flying and walking have their perks, but they don’t beat driving.”
Next to him, Aziraphale strapped himself in as tightly as he could and held onto the glove box.
“I’m sure they do, my dear,” he said. “It would be nice if we had a whole Bentley after the trip.”
Once they got onto the highway, Crowley stepped on the accelerator, not releasing his foot even after they had merged into the lane. His eyes glowed behind his sunglasses.
“Unless you’re the one driving,” he said with amusement, “I don’t want to hear it.”
One excitement-and-terror-filled hour later, Aziraphale and Crowley sat at a high table in a small restaurant. The neat wooden flooring and furniture gave the space a rustic feel, and the candles on the tabletops added to it. With an hour until closing, the lazy atmosphere was pervasive.
Aziraphale cut a piece of sausage and ate it with sauerkraut. “Well, that was something,” he said, unsure of how else to describe the fiasco. “One of our more chaotic nights, I should say.”
“Really, angel?” Crowley asked. He stuck his fork through a slice of sausage and waved it.
“Indeed.” Aziraphale ate some more mashed potatoes. “Are there any other schemes that you have planned for the night?”
“None, but I wouldn’t mind driving the Autobahn in daylight to see what it’s like.” Crowley struggled to remain neutral at Aziraphale’s expression. “Kidding. That’s the main feature for Berlin, unless you wanted to go somewhere else.”
“I can’t think of any here,” Aziraphale said. “I’d say that we should make a stop at Budapest. It’s the capital of Hungary, and I haven’t been there in a long time.”
“We can certainly head there next.” Crowley ate his roasted potato wedges with a thoughtful expression. “Since we have the Bentley, I can drive us there.”
“Not if you plan to drive like you did earlier.”
“I would never dream of it. How about a compromise? I’ll make sure to keep the speedometer below 90. Does that make you feel better?”
“Better being a relative term, then I guess.”
“Perfect.” Crowley set some more euros on the table, and Aziraphale did likewise.
Crowley proved to be a demon of his word. The speedometer indeed never went above 90, though it hovered dangerously close.
Traveling at ground level meant an intimate view of the landscape. Aziraphale took the time to glance out the window when he wasn’t holding on for dear life. He even noticed Crowley glancing away from the road on occasion to enjoy the view. As they got closer to Budapest, the sun began to rise, setting the sky pleasingly aflame.
Their route brought them to a bridge spanning the Danube, and they crossed.
Aziraphale sighed. “Now, that is a nice view,” he said, prodding the window.
Crowley slowed and rolled down the windows so they could admire the view. A slight breeze cooled the early morning air, and the smell of water from below filled his nostrils. It was deep, damp, and calming.
“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale said, admiring the buildings along the riverside. “You certainly can’t experience this in the confines of an automobile.”
“Another successful scheme, then.” Crowley pretended not to notice Aziraphale shaking his head. “This would have been a great spot to view the sunrise, with the light reflecting off the water.”
Aziraphale thought that they would spend the entire day in the car, but, shortly after crossing the bridge, Crowley drove down a ramp into a parking garage.
“We’re not driving anymore?” he asked.
“Not unless you want to,” Crowley said. “I imagine that more cars will be out later in the day, and I’d rather not have to deal with them.”
They emerged from the underground parking garage onto a narrow one-way street.
Up ahead, Aziraphale spotted a patch of sunny pavement and walked over to see what was there. The area to the right widened into a large plaza. Aside from some outdoor tables, the space was empty. However, an old-fashioned building with two towers and a domed roof caught his eye.
“Crowley,” he said, grabbing Crowley’s arm with one hand and pointing forward with the other.
Crowley glanced at him for a second before turning his attention forward. “Oh, that,” he said.
Aziraphale made a face. “That?” he asked. “That’s St. Stephen’s Basilica. If I recall, it’s one of the largest religious structures in Hungary.”
“Of course you would know that.” He stopped next to Aziraphale and moved out of the way of him swatting his hand through the air. “Tell you what, we can do the same thing as in Paris.”
“I’m sure you can find a garden to loiter in.” Aziraphale headed up the stairs before turning back. “Let’s meet back here in a little while?”
With the angel exploring the basilica, Crowley turned around and headed back to the main street. Automobile space had been minimized to give pedestrians a larger space to navigate. Potted plants adorned the pavement, while outdoor seating at restaurants gave people a place to sit.
One place he walked by served gelato. When he glanced inside, he noticed that the workers were forming the gelato in the shape of a rose. The design intrigued him, so he waited in line while perusing the available flavors.
“What would you like, sir?” the worker asked.
Crowley turned to face her. “I’ll take a rose-shaped cone with chocolate and raspberry.” He leaned forward and squinted at a flavor. “Is that wasabi?”
“Wasabi-hazelnut. It’s a seasonal flavor.” She seemed to sense his confusion and said, “A lot of people find that the spicy and salty combination with the sweet cream really works.”
“I see.” Well, he’d already had a wasabi macaron. Why not? “I’ll take it.”
She handed him the cone of gelato and began typing on the cash register. “Anything else?”
A thought occurred to him. “Actually, I’ll take another cone. A friend of mine is visiting the basilica, and I think he would appreciate one.”
“Well, that’s awfully nice.” She grabbed another cone and said, “What flavors?”
Crowley thought of the macarons they’d eaten in Paris. “Pistachio, lavender, white chocolate.” He scanned the available flavors and remembered something. “Do you have Earl Grey?”
“Sorry, I don’t think…” The worker spotted a new tray of gelato that she must’ve forgotten putting out. “Huh,” she said. “I guess we do.” She added the last flavor before handing the cone to him. “Make sure he gets it soon, though.”
Crowley headed back onto the street. To his surprise, the wasabi-hazelnut gelato did make an interesting flavor combination. He didn’t feel like a portal to the Nine Circles was opening in his nose. Perhaps he should have ordered some for Aziraphale.
As his thoughts drifted back to the angel, the same feeling from Notre Dame de Paris emerged. He knew that Aziraphale often had to visit religious sites for work purposes, but this was strictly for pleasure. He decided to distract himself with some more wasabi gelato and wondered how Aziraphale was enjoying his time in St. Stephen’s.
Meanwhile, Aziraphale was staring wide-eyed at the sanctuary around him. Colored tiles on the floor matched the walls and domed ceiling overhead. He admired the paintings and statues along the walls. With the rise of churches and cathedrals, Upstairs often had him visiting prominent sites to make sure that proceedings went well. He had not done much of that lately, but if the churches around his bookstore looked like this one, he would have gone nearly daily.
“My dear, isn’t this beautiful?” Aziraphale said out of habit before turning to find that it wasn’t Crowley that stood next to him, but an old woman. “Sorry,” he said, doing his best to keep a level tone. “I thought that you were someone else.”
“It’s no problem,” she said, standing next to him. “You’re right. This is a truly magnificent building. It’s a shame that you don’t see projects like this nowadays, with everyone wanting to live in a sleek, glass-covered house.”
“It’s a tragedy, dear lady. That’s quite certain. Fortunately, we still have these sanctuaries, and it is definitely worth it to visit here at least once.”
The woman turned to study him. “Who were you expecting to see?” she asked. “From your look of disappointment, I’d guess it was someone important to you.”
For a moment, Aziraphale wondered how much he should reveal.
“Oh, just a friend,” he said. “He wasn’t able to come into the basilica, though I think he wanted to. He’s not much of a church-goer, but he does have an appreciation for fine architecture.”
The woman nodded. “Ah, that’s a disappointment.” She paused to think. “Why don’t you get some pictures for him? Or if you have a phone, you could call him now.”
Though the suggestion seemed appealing. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a mobile or a camera.”
“You could give your friend an over-the-phone tour.” When Aziraphale stared at her, she pulled her phone out. “What I mean is that you can call your friend and describe everything you see. It’s not as good as being here in person, but it’s close.”
“Ah,” Aziraphale said. “Maybe I’ll get a phone when I get back. Thank you for the suggestion.”
Instead of putting her phone away, she held it out for him. “Why don’t you call him now? If you know his number, you can go ahead.”
Aziraphale was too shocked to respond at first. “Are you quite sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”
“It’s no problem,” she insisted. “My family’s off exploring, and I doubt we’ll be leaving soon. Either way, other people should get the chance to see this place, even if it’s through a call.”
Aziraphale took the mobile, making sure to keep a firm grip, and dialed Crowley’s number. As the phone vibrated in his hand, he wondered if Crowley would even pick up. After several seconds, he heard a familiar voice.
“Angel?” Crowley asked. “Whose number is this? Did you manage to snag a mobile?”
“I’m borrowing it,” Aziraphale said. “A kind woman let me use hers. She said that since you couldn’t come in person, I should call you and give you an audio tour.”
The woman stood off to the side to give them privacy. For a moment, Crowley didn’t respond. Then, he said, “I’m surprised that you know how to work the phone, unless she gave you a tutorial beforehand.”
“I’m not as technologically illiterate as you think.” Before Crowley could disagree, Aziraphale glanced up at the ceiling and began his description. “The ceiling is vaulted, and you can clearly see the exquisitely detailed reliefs on it.”
“Go on,” Crowley said through the phone. “I’m listening.”
For the next several minutes, Aziraphale gave a detailed account of the sanctuary’s design, from the ceiling to the tiled floor. Occasionally, he paused to walk around the space, and he described his movements to the letter. Although he wanted to travel further into the basilica, the last thing he wanted to do was trouble the woman. Nonetheless, the sanctuary space provided plenty to talk about, and, aside from a few questions, Crowley remained silent.
Once Aziraphale reached the end of his tour, Crowley said, “Well, I’m impressed. From your descriptions, I can just about get the shape of it. There are photo-postcards everywhere, too.”
“I’m glad.” Aziraphale headed back to the entrance, chewing his lip. “I wish you were here.”
After a beat of dismayed, grateful silence, Crowley said, “Are you going to stay a while longer?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t want to inconvenience my benefactor, and I don’t want to keep you waiting either.” He realized he didn’t know where Crowley was. “Where are you now?”
“Not far. I can head over to you. It’s a short walk, and I have something I want to give you.”
The thought sparked a mixture of curiosity and warmth. “I’ll see you in a bit,” Aziraphale said.
“See you later. And, also, angel? Thanks. I mean it.”
“You’re welcome,” Aziraphale said. He ended the call and handed the phone back to the woman. “Thank you ever so much. I appreciate the gesture.”
“You’re welcome.” She put her phone away and again scanned him with her gaze. “I’ve visited this place multiple times, and it seems that fewer younger people are interested. Good for you.”
Though her statement about him being young was far from correct, Aziraphale thought it would be rude to contradict. “It, ah, certainly is. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
Next: Part 4!
Aziraphale woke to the feeling of something prodding his face. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Crowley was staring down at him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
“What’s the special occasion?” Aziraphale asked, stretching his arms. “Knowing your love of sleep, I’m surprised that you’ve been the one waking me up.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” He gestured to the city below. “Since we’re here, I thought we might as well indulge in some sappy romance with a view of the sunrise.”
Aziraphale straightened up and peered toward what he thought was the east. After a few tries, he managed to spot the sun’s brilliant orange gradient ascending in the sky.
“Thoughtful of you,” he said, yawning to rouse himself fully. Feeling more awake, he stood up and headed to the railing. “The view never ceases to amaze.”
“I knew you’d say that,” Crowley said with satisfaction. “I was also thinking we might hit Rome before all the tourists are up. If we head out now, we’ll have some wiggle-room.”
Even in his sluggish state, Aziraphale knew that wasn’t quite right. “If we fly at our usual rate, it’ll take about half an hour to arrive.”
“But if we travel at the speed of light, or maybe electrons, we’ll make it there in half a second.”
Aziraphale frowned at Crowley. “I don’t think I’ve, er, teleported like that in quite some time.”
“It’s no problem,” Crowley said, “I’ll help you keep up. Even if we slow a bit, we’ll be fine.”
Aziraphale stretched before extending his wings. “Any other advice for the out-of-shape?”
Crowley extended his wings in kind. “We’ll pace ourselves. Also, we’ve got to, well, shrink.”
Without warning, he disappeared before Aziraphale could say that he knew that already.
Aziraphale focused on taking up less space, to the point where he could discern his individual molecules. It took a few seconds to adjust, but, once he did, he zipped off into the sky.
The scenery below flew by too fast for him to see much. He spotted Crowley a few centimeters ahead, but it might as well have been a mile. When he noticed that Crowley had begun his descent, he followed, not glancing elsewhere until they landed and returned to their usual size.
Had breathing been a required action, Aziraphale would have been doubled over and gasping.
“Okay,” he panted harshly, “let’s avoid doing that for the rest of the trip if we can.”
Crowley was less winded, although he looked somewhat drained. “I second that.” When he glanced around, he saw that they stood in a grassy area not far from the Colosseum. “I figured that we can enjoy sightseeing without the hassle of dealing with tourists.”
The Colosseum was not open for visitors, but they found the gates open anyway.
“I remember this place,” Aziraphale said as they climbed to the uppermost tier. “This is where the emperors sat while watching events.” He made a face. “Some of them were rather bloody.”
“I hope you’re not forgetting about Commodus,” Crowley said beside him. “He didn’t just sit here, but also fought some gladiators himself. I think he had a few screws loose, but he survived.”
Aziraphale nodded. “Decius slaughtered early converts to Christianity here. Nasty business.”
Crowley held his hands up, “Whoa, that wasn’t my doing,” he said. He recalled speaking with several emperors for various reasons, although he had rarely tracked the fallout. “Even then, you know how far humans took their cruelties toward each other.”
Aziraphale’s gaze focused. “Oh, sorry. I wasn’t accusing you, dear boy. Merely reflecting.”
“Some of those emperors turned out all right,” Crowley said amiably. “Augustus did well by his subjects and kept the peace.”
The angel nodded. “I do remember. A rather chipper fellow.” He straightened up and said, “You always do see the best in people, don’t you?”
“Don’t mention it,” Crowley sighed, taking interest in the texture of the stone floor beneath him. “It’ll dampen the tone if we keep sulking about history. I think we still have some more time before the public swarms in. We should keep exploring.”
They continued to stroll the various levels of the structure, chatting animatedly all the while.
After a while, a few official-looking, uniformed humans headed toward the Colosseum entrance.
“There’s our cue to leave,” Aziraphale said. He turned back to Crowley and found him balancing on the railing. “I said, we really should be going,” he reiterated, raising his voice.
Crowley jerked forward and pinwheeled his arms to keep balance. “All right, then.”
This time, Aziraphale led the way. They crossed a bridge over the Tiber, and Aziraphale agreed to pose for a photograph with Crowley. By the time they arrived at their destination, it seemed that the city had almost fully awakened.
Impressive brick archways framed the entrance to a green park. Some trails led people further in, although trees partially obscured the view.
Aziraphale glanced around for a moment before continuing forward. “We’re here,” he said. “This is the Villa Doria Pamphili. I wonder what the place looks like now.”
Crowley joined him under the brick archway and glanced around. “How big is this place?”
“I’m not quite sure, but from what I remember, you could spend a whole day here and not get bored. Fortunately for us, we have all the time in the world.”
Trails intertwined and connected different locations of the park. Aziraphale had to make sure that Crowley didn’t stray too far in his quest to terrify the leaves off unsuspecting plants. One of the pathways led to a grassy space with a fountain. They materialized a convenient bench.
For a long time, neither of them spoke, and then Crowley asked, “You wondered what the place looked like now. Does this bring back memories?”
“Yes. The building was beautiful, as were the hedge mazes around it. I always enjoyed the more secluded areas of the villa.” He glanced at Crowley. “I’m surprised that you haven’t been here. I thought it would have been your style, what with the plants and all.”
“I wasn’t really into plants at the time,” he said. “Not to mention that whenever I had the chance to go to Rome, I was always on political missions.” Instead of dwelling on it, he decided to change the topic. “I agree with what you said, though. I wouldn’t mind spending some days out here, and I can see why the emperors were so fond of this architecture.”
Aziraphale gestured at the landscape. “Even then, people wanted to escape from the urban sprawl. A personal garden paradise seemed like the best solution.”
“Kind of like St. James’s Park.” Crowley reflected on the pond that they had passed earlier on their stroll. There had been a fence around it, and no ducks. “That is part of why I like to keep potted plants in my flat. When they actually behave themselves, it feels like...”
“I doubt they feel like it’s Paradise.” Aziraphale smiled when he saw Crowley’s shocked expression. “I’m well aware of what a comeback is, you know.”
“First you approve my schemes, and now you’re throwing shade.” Crowley made no attempt to hide his amusement. “I’ve been a bad influence on you, angel.”
“And I on you, my dear.” Aziraphale stared at the fountain some more and listened to the water.
“Mutual corruption and redemption.” Crowley studied how the water wet the concrete border while the concrete kept the water contained. “Nothing’s static forever.”
On leaving, finding a gelato place proved to be an easy task. They sat on another park bench. Aziraphale bit into the scoop of gelato, and then licked a droplet that had traveled down the side of the cone. “What flavors did you get?”
Crowley licked the top scoop of his cone. “Chocolate-hazelnut and raspberry.” He wrapped his tongue around the gelato scoop and made a noise of contentment. “Goes well together. Could use a bit more hazelnut, though.”
“That sounds delicious. I ordered zabaione mixed with mango.” Aziraphale took a bite that incorporated both scoops. “Before I forget, I should like to shop for some books.”
“More books?” Crowley asked. “Isn’t your shop overflowing with stock as it is?”
It didn’t take them that long to locate a quaint, yet bustling retail thoroughfare.
Despite the old-fashioned style of the bookshop’s brick walls, the books themselves were rather modern. Aziraphale guessed that maybe some older books lay farther back.
After purchasing a mystery book and a guide on plant care, Crowley stood near the entrance and flipped avidly through the pages.
“I knew you’d benefit from some reading,” Aziraphale told him, peering over his shoulder.
Crowley flinched. As expected, Aziraphale held a large stack of books in his hands, and Crowley guessed that he was cheating to keep them from falling over.
“That’s a massive haul,” he said with disapproval. “How are you going to bring them with you?”
“I’ll find a way,” Aziraphale said. He unzipped his tartan suitcase. He miracled the books inside while Crowley gaped. “Wipe that look off your face. It’s called efficiency.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Crowley replied, holding his hands up. “You know, the gelato was good, but I think we should get something substantial. Shall I tempt you to some supper?”
Aziraphale tsked to himself, but the humor in his next words betrayed him. “Who am I to resist?”
They found dinner at the Trattoria da Cesare al Casaletto. Soft lighting accentuated the red-and-white walls, and some reflected off the shiny wooden floor.
Aziraphale fished one of the clam-shells from his pasta and ate the meat inside.
“You know, I wish I had gotten the veal in Paris, just to see how it compares to this.” He set the empty shell to the side and took a bite of veal. “This veal is rather tasty.”
“I know,” Crowley said. He twirled the pasta around his fork and paired it with a mushroom. “With all the pasta options, some of it’s bound to give Paris a run for its reputation.”
The angel nodded. “London’s well enough, but I think we’ve missed out on a great deal.”
“Well, we have it now. We can enjoy it while it lasts.”
Although Crowley’s comment was offhand, it gave them both pause. They exchanged a glance, each waiting to see if the other would elaborate, but neither one of them spoke.
Conversations floated around them, so they continued their discussion. They even sampled each other’s dishes. However, a solemn mood had entered the atmosphere, and it lingered even after.
Aziraphale glanced at the sky. “We ought to head to our next location soon,” he said wistfully.
“I was thinking Berlin,” Crowley said. “I have a plan for what I want to do there.” When Aziraphale whipped around to face him, he said, “No, it’s not a work-related plan. But we should hit up one more location before we leave.”
“Where?” Aziraphale asked. “I hate to say it, but I’m quite full.”
“The Leaning Tower, of course. Since we’re so keen on towers.”
The answer took Aziraphale by surprise. “That’s not even in Rome.”
“I know, but it’s in the direction that we’re headed anyway.” It was Crowley’s turn to guess Aziraphale’s thought process. “And sure, it may be touristy, but I thought you didn’t mind.”
Aziraphale had no argument for that. “Very well, then. Let’s head off.”
The flight to the Leaning Tower of Pisa took less than a half hour. When they arrived, some humans stood around taking photographs of the tower. Warm sunlight shone on the pale stone.
Crowley contemplated landing on top of the building and giving the humans a scare, but he landed on some nearby grass with Aziraphale. Once they had righted themselves, they headed forward to appreciate the tower in all its tilted glory.
Aziraphale scanned the building with his gaze, doing his best to commit every detail to memory.
Next to him, Crowley snapped a whole slew of photographs, some of which included Aziraphale.
After a while, he said, “Hey, angel. Can you take a picture with me and the tower?”
“Certainly,” Aziraphale said, “but can you not take the photograph yourself?”
“Not for what I want.” Crowley paused before launching into a long explanation. “Here is the lens; you point that at whatever you want to capture. Once I say ready, you aim the lens at me and press this button. Understand?”
“Very funny,” Aziraphale said. “You’re forgetting the extent of my technological prowess.”
“Whatever.” Crowley waited for Aziraphale to back up enough to get him and the tower in the photograph. Once he was far enough away, he dug his heels into the ground and held his hands up so they angled with the side of the building. “All right. Take the picture.”
For a moment, Aziraphale wondered if this was some sort of joke. “I may not be the most pop-culture literate, but even I recognize how much of a tourist cliche this is.”
“And who said he didn’t mind acting like a tourist?” Crowley laughed at Aziraphale’s eye roll.
“Insufferable,” Aziraphale said. He snapped a few photographs. “There. Pictures taken.”
“Thanks,” Crowley said. “I could get a picture of you like that, too, if you wanted.”
“If it isn’t a hassle.” Aziraphale debated what pose to take and eventually settled on a smile.
“It’s what I’m here for.” Crowley glanced around for the clear patch of lawn and was relieved to find it still empty. “All right, let’s hit the sky for Berlin before someone notices.”
The sun was beginning to set along the horizon, and they admired the aerial view as they flew. Once nightfall arrived, they lowered their altitude as Berlin crept into view below.
Once they landed, Aziraphale said, “Well, that was a rather nice flight.” He glanced at his wings and made a face. “Probably should groom these eventually. It’s been a while.”
“No kidding,” Crowley muttered. He ducked out of the way of one wing that jerked in his direction before retracting his own. “I’d wait until London. No use in cleaning them now.”
A short walk brought them onto a main thoroughfare. Aside from a few cars, the streets were mostly empty. The occasional street-lamp flickered. They reached an intersection, and more humans appeared. Brick walls flanked a gateway ahead, and a flowerbed stood between the pathways.
One young man stood out in the crowd, as he held an umbrella. Upon closer inspection, they realized that the umbrella was attached to a device he wore on his back. Strapped to the front of his torso was what looked like a mobile grill. CURRYWURST was written in bold letters on the glass shield.
Once they had ordered, they stepped aside. Currywursts in hand, they headed for the gateway.
“I wonder who came up with the idea to put curry powder on a sausage,” Crowley said between bites. “I wouldn’t have thought that the combination would work.”
“I think it was developed a few years after the Second World War.” Aziraphale paused to wipe some sauce off of his mouth. “I never met the inventor, but I think she was rather resourceful.”
“Well, her efforts certainly paid off.” They stopped at a trash can to dispose of their empty paper boats. “The Currywurst guy said the Botanical Center was nearby. I say we should visit.”
“You and your plants,” Aziraphale said, “but we can try to see if it’s still open. Some tourist attractions close earlier than others.” He glanced at the trail’s surroundings, with tall trees and the bright lights strung between branches. “Even if it’s closed, I’m happy to stay out here.”
A short while later, they stood inside one of the greenhouses. A narrow stone pathway allowed pedestrians to navigate. They passed by specimens of all different colors and forms, each one looking green and pristine in their plant paradise. The occasional bench provided a place of rest and contemplation, but they walked by them, not wanting to waste a moment.
Aziraphale glanced at one tree with its branches stretching all the way to the ceiling. “Look at those spiky leaves,” he said, pointing them out to Crowley. “Imagine having that in your flat.”
Crowley stood next to him and glanced up. “It’s a nice-looking specimen,” he admitted. “However, it would be a pain. I doubt it would respond as favorably in London.”
“You have a point there,” Aziraphale said. “All these plants look quite confident. I doubt you can pull off your plant-scaring tactics in here.”
“Don’t doubt me, angel.” He walked a few meters and stared at a herbaceous plant that seemed to droop. “This one could work on its posture. It’d be a shame if guests came tomorrow and found one less plant.” The shrub trembled before straightening its branches a fraction.
“Really, my dear?” Aziraphale said, but neither of them would’ve had it any other way.
Crowley turned to face him. “Since you’re suddenly a plant expert, what d’you have in mind?”
“How about encouragement? Positivity? You’d be surprised how well it works.”
Crowley rolled his eyes, but Aziraphale refused to be discouraged. After some searching, he found a plant that had strong color, but appeared to be drooping.
Aziraphale leaned forward and said, “Hello there. You’re doing a fine job with the, er, chlorophyll and...photosynthesis.” He ignored Crowley snickering behind him and continued. “If you’d just straighten up, you might grab a bit more sunlight, hmmm?”
To Crowley’s surprise, the plant responded in the same way that the other one had. On top of that, it seemed to perk up a bit more instead of shivering.
“Impressive,” he said grudgingly. “I bet it was just a one-time thing, though. Besides, it’s your job to be positive. I doubt it’d work as well if I tried it.”
Aziraphale pointed to another drooping plant on the other side of the walkway. “Don’t be absurd. We’ve already determined you’re aware of your optimism.”
Crowley sighed and walked over. A long list of subtle threats and insults popped to mind, but he shoved them to the side and said, in the most positive tone he could muster, “Hey, you’re doing a great job there. Showing some real initiative.” He internally cringed at how fake he sounded. “All you need is to unfurl those new shoots, and you’ll be good to go.”
At first, nothing happened. Crowley was about to resort to the threats he’d thought of earlier when he noticed the plant’s branches shifting upward.
“Hey,” he said brightly, unable to contain his surprise. “Well done.”
“You, too, dear boy,” Aziraphale said, standing next to him. “Maybe now you’ll switch tactics.”
“Maybe,” Crowley said, glancing forward at the plants ahead. A thought occurred to him. “Wait, so...if encouragement works for me, shouldn’t you be able to scare them?”
To Crowley’s shock, Aziraphale stood in front of another bush a few feet away and got up close.
“Tsk,” he said, his voice assuming a startlingly hard edge. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed those brown spots on your leaves. You know what happens to plants that can’t keep up!”
All Crowley could do was stare. A sinking feeling entered his stomach, and he had to remind himself that this was the angel that he was dealing with. The spots faded significantly.
As if a switch had been flipped, Aziraphale’s smile returned. “Good job,” he said, patting the plant’s leaves. He turned to Crowley. “Well, that was satisfying,” he said.
“No kidding,” Crowley said. “For a second, I had flashbacks of some of the heavenly higher-ups. Wouldn’t have expected such an effective, uh, smiting impression from you.”
The angel shrugged. “I’ve encountered plenty of my colleagues in the line of duty. It’s why I tend to limit contact if I can.” He studied Crowley’s expression. “I’m guessing you’ve had run-ins with some of them. You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Crowley admitted. “I’d rather not dwell on it. Why don’t we continue exploring? I’m sure there are a few thousand plant species here.”
By the time they left, a whole slew of English, German, and Latin plant names buzzed about Aziraphale’s head. With how late it was, he was convinced that Crowley would want to sleep.
Instead, the demon seemed more energized than before.
“What are you planning?” Aziraphale asked.
“Why do you always assume I’m plotting?” Even though Crowley tried to sound innocent, Aziraphale recognized the subtle undertone that meant he had a scheme in mind.
“I know you, you old serpent,” he said. “You’re always thinking ahead. Wiles and wiles.”
“How’s improv comedy working out for you?” At this point, Crowley made no effort to hide his excitement. “You’ve heard of the Autobahn, yeah?” Aziraphale’s blank expression said it all. “I’ll give you the short version: it’s a highway where some segments have no posted speed limit. As a result, people can drive as fast as they want.”
“Oh. I thought that’s what you always do.”
“Yes, but I still want to try driving on it.”
They reached an empty street with a small car park. Sitting smack in the middle with open spots all around it, the Bentley looked just as they’d left it in Edinburgh. They got in.
Crowley’s smile lingered as he drove, and he sighed with satisfaction as he steered the car. “I’ve missed this,” he said. “Flying and walking have their perks, but they don’t beat driving.”
Next to him, Aziraphale strapped himself in as tightly as he could and held onto the glove box.
“I’m sure they do, my dear,” he said. “It would be nice if we had a whole Bentley after the trip.”
Once they got onto the highway, Crowley stepped on the accelerator, not releasing his foot even after they had merged into the lane. His eyes glowed behind his sunglasses.
“Unless you’re the one driving,” he said with amusement, “I don’t want to hear it.”
One excitement-and-terror-filled hour later, Aziraphale and Crowley sat at a high table in a small restaurant. The neat wooden flooring and furniture gave the space a rustic feel, and the candles on the tabletops added to it. With an hour until closing, the lazy atmosphere was pervasive.
Aziraphale cut a piece of sausage and ate it with sauerkraut. “Well, that was something,” he said, unsure of how else to describe the fiasco. “One of our more chaotic nights, I should say.”
“Really, angel?” Crowley asked. He stuck his fork through a slice of sausage and waved it.
“Indeed.” Aziraphale ate some more mashed potatoes. “Are there any other schemes that you have planned for the night?”
“None, but I wouldn’t mind driving the Autobahn in daylight to see what it’s like.” Crowley struggled to remain neutral at Aziraphale’s expression. “Kidding. That’s the main feature for Berlin, unless you wanted to go somewhere else.”
“I can’t think of any here,” Aziraphale said. “I’d say that we should make a stop at Budapest. It’s the capital of Hungary, and I haven’t been there in a long time.”
“We can certainly head there next.” Crowley ate his roasted potato wedges with a thoughtful expression. “Since we have the Bentley, I can drive us there.”
“Not if you plan to drive like you did earlier.”
“I would never dream of it. How about a compromise? I’ll make sure to keep the speedometer below 90. Does that make you feel better?”
“Better being a relative term, then I guess.”
“Perfect.” Crowley set some more euros on the table, and Aziraphale did likewise.
Crowley proved to be a demon of his word. The speedometer indeed never went above 90, though it hovered dangerously close.
Traveling at ground level meant an intimate view of the landscape. Aziraphale took the time to glance out the window when he wasn’t holding on for dear life. He even noticed Crowley glancing away from the road on occasion to enjoy the view. As they got closer to Budapest, the sun began to rise, setting the sky pleasingly aflame.
Their route brought them to a bridge spanning the Danube, and they crossed.
Aziraphale sighed. “Now, that is a nice view,” he said, prodding the window.
Crowley slowed and rolled down the windows so they could admire the view. A slight breeze cooled the early morning air, and the smell of water from below filled his nostrils. It was deep, damp, and calming.
“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale said, admiring the buildings along the riverside. “You certainly can’t experience this in the confines of an automobile.”
“Another successful scheme, then.” Crowley pretended not to notice Aziraphale shaking his head. “This would have been a great spot to view the sunrise, with the light reflecting off the water.”
Aziraphale thought that they would spend the entire day in the car, but, shortly after crossing the bridge, Crowley drove down a ramp into a parking garage.
“We’re not driving anymore?” he asked.
“Not unless you want to,” Crowley said. “I imagine that more cars will be out later in the day, and I’d rather not have to deal with them.”
They emerged from the underground parking garage onto a narrow one-way street.
Up ahead, Aziraphale spotted a patch of sunny pavement and walked over to see what was there. The area to the right widened into a large plaza. Aside from some outdoor tables, the space was empty. However, an old-fashioned building with two towers and a domed roof caught his eye.
“Crowley,” he said, grabbing Crowley’s arm with one hand and pointing forward with the other.
Crowley glanced at him for a second before turning his attention forward. “Oh, that,” he said.
Aziraphale made a face. “That?” he asked. “That’s St. Stephen’s Basilica. If I recall, it’s one of the largest religious structures in Hungary.”
“Of course you would know that.” He stopped next to Aziraphale and moved out of the way of him swatting his hand through the air. “Tell you what, we can do the same thing as in Paris.”
“I’m sure you can find a garden to loiter in.” Aziraphale headed up the stairs before turning back. “Let’s meet back here in a little while?”
With the angel exploring the basilica, Crowley turned around and headed back to the main street. Automobile space had been minimized to give pedestrians a larger space to navigate. Potted plants adorned the pavement, while outdoor seating at restaurants gave people a place to sit.
One place he walked by served gelato. When he glanced inside, he noticed that the workers were forming the gelato in the shape of a rose. The design intrigued him, so he waited in line while perusing the available flavors.
“What would you like, sir?” the worker asked.
Crowley turned to face her. “I’ll take a rose-shaped cone with chocolate and raspberry.” He leaned forward and squinted at a flavor. “Is that wasabi?”
“Wasabi-hazelnut. It’s a seasonal flavor.” She seemed to sense his confusion and said, “A lot of people find that the spicy and salty combination with the sweet cream really works.”
“I see.” Well, he’d already had a wasabi macaron. Why not? “I’ll take it.”
She handed him the cone of gelato and began typing on the cash register. “Anything else?”
A thought occurred to him. “Actually, I’ll take another cone. A friend of mine is visiting the basilica, and I think he would appreciate one.”
“Well, that’s awfully nice.” She grabbed another cone and said, “What flavors?”
Crowley thought of the macarons they’d eaten in Paris. “Pistachio, lavender, white chocolate.” He scanned the available flavors and remembered something. “Do you have Earl Grey?”
“Sorry, I don’t think…” The worker spotted a new tray of gelato that she must’ve forgotten putting out. “Huh,” she said. “I guess we do.” She added the last flavor before handing the cone to him. “Make sure he gets it soon, though.”
Crowley headed back onto the street. To his surprise, the wasabi-hazelnut gelato did make an interesting flavor combination. He didn’t feel like a portal to the Nine Circles was opening in his nose. Perhaps he should have ordered some for Aziraphale.
As his thoughts drifted back to the angel, the same feeling from Notre Dame de Paris emerged. He knew that Aziraphale often had to visit religious sites for work purposes, but this was strictly for pleasure. He decided to distract himself with some more wasabi gelato and wondered how Aziraphale was enjoying his time in St. Stephen’s.
Meanwhile, Aziraphale was staring wide-eyed at the sanctuary around him. Colored tiles on the floor matched the walls and domed ceiling overhead. He admired the paintings and statues along the walls. With the rise of churches and cathedrals, Upstairs often had him visiting prominent sites to make sure that proceedings went well. He had not done much of that lately, but if the churches around his bookstore looked like this one, he would have gone nearly daily.
“My dear, isn’t this beautiful?” Aziraphale said out of habit before turning to find that it wasn’t Crowley that stood next to him, but an old woman. “Sorry,” he said, doing his best to keep a level tone. “I thought that you were someone else.”
“It’s no problem,” she said, standing next to him. “You’re right. This is a truly magnificent building. It’s a shame that you don’t see projects like this nowadays, with everyone wanting to live in a sleek, glass-covered house.”
“It’s a tragedy, dear lady. That’s quite certain. Fortunately, we still have these sanctuaries, and it is definitely worth it to visit here at least once.”
The woman turned to study him. “Who were you expecting to see?” she asked. “From your look of disappointment, I’d guess it was someone important to you.”
For a moment, Aziraphale wondered how much he should reveal.
“Oh, just a friend,” he said. “He wasn’t able to come into the basilica, though I think he wanted to. He’s not much of a church-goer, but he does have an appreciation for fine architecture.”
The woman nodded. “Ah, that’s a disappointment.” She paused to think. “Why don’t you get some pictures for him? Or if you have a phone, you could call him now.”
Though the suggestion seemed appealing. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a mobile or a camera.”
“You could give your friend an over-the-phone tour.” When Aziraphale stared at her, she pulled her phone out. “What I mean is that you can call your friend and describe everything you see. It’s not as good as being here in person, but it’s close.”
“Ah,” Aziraphale said. “Maybe I’ll get a phone when I get back. Thank you for the suggestion.”
Instead of putting her phone away, she held it out for him. “Why don’t you call him now? If you know his number, you can go ahead.”
Aziraphale was too shocked to respond at first. “Are you quite sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”
“It’s no problem,” she insisted. “My family’s off exploring, and I doubt we’ll be leaving soon. Either way, other people should get the chance to see this place, even if it’s through a call.”
Aziraphale took the mobile, making sure to keep a firm grip, and dialed Crowley’s number. As the phone vibrated in his hand, he wondered if Crowley would even pick up. After several seconds, he heard a familiar voice.
“Angel?” Crowley asked. “Whose number is this? Did you manage to snag a mobile?”
“I’m borrowing it,” Aziraphale said. “A kind woman let me use hers. She said that since you couldn’t come in person, I should call you and give you an audio tour.”
The woman stood off to the side to give them privacy. For a moment, Crowley didn’t respond. Then, he said, “I’m surprised that you know how to work the phone, unless she gave you a tutorial beforehand.”
“I’m not as technologically illiterate as you think.” Before Crowley could disagree, Aziraphale glanced up at the ceiling and began his description. “The ceiling is vaulted, and you can clearly see the exquisitely detailed reliefs on it.”
“Go on,” Crowley said through the phone. “I’m listening.”
For the next several minutes, Aziraphale gave a detailed account of the sanctuary’s design, from the ceiling to the tiled floor. Occasionally, he paused to walk around the space, and he described his movements to the letter. Although he wanted to travel further into the basilica, the last thing he wanted to do was trouble the woman. Nonetheless, the sanctuary space provided plenty to talk about, and, aside from a few questions, Crowley remained silent.
Once Aziraphale reached the end of his tour, Crowley said, “Well, I’m impressed. From your descriptions, I can just about get the shape of it. There are photo-postcards everywhere, too.”
“I’m glad.” Aziraphale headed back to the entrance, chewing his lip. “I wish you were here.”
After a beat of dismayed, grateful silence, Crowley said, “Are you going to stay a while longer?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t want to inconvenience my benefactor, and I don’t want to keep you waiting either.” He realized he didn’t know where Crowley was. “Where are you now?”
“Not far. I can head over to you. It’s a short walk, and I have something I want to give you.”
The thought sparked a mixture of curiosity and warmth. “I’ll see you in a bit,” Aziraphale said.
“See you later. And, also, angel? Thanks. I mean it.”
“You’re welcome,” Aziraphale said. He ended the call and handed the phone back to the woman. “Thank you ever so much. I appreciate the gesture.”
“You’re welcome.” She put her phone away and again scanned him with her gaze. “I’ve visited this place multiple times, and it seems that fewer younger people are interested. Good for you.”
Though her statement about him being young was far from correct, Aziraphale thought it would be rude to contradict. “It, ah, certainly is. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
Next: Part 4!
(no subject)
Date: 2019-01-04 07:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2019-01-07 03:08 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2019-04-01 02:42 am (UTC)And Azirahale scares it with a 'TSK'. Aziraphale's disapproving 'TSK's are truly the most terrifying of sounds!!
OH GOD CROWLEY ON THE AUTOBAHN. At least the Bentley gets to have fun!
How convenient that they had Earl Grey gelato ;)
'Younger people' XD What a sweet lady!