Happy Holidays, pollitt!

[goe_mod]

Title: Under the lights
Writer: secret
Rating: K+
Words: 1020
Characters, Pairing and Other: Crowley/Aziraphale, mention of Warlock and Adam (also,
mention of today's plague; it is really short, but be sure to be careful).
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale see the Northern Lights, speak about the rest of their
journey and are simply happy being together.

Hello Pollitt, here is your gift, I hope it will please you. I chose to deal with your domestic prompt,
because I love the idea of Crowley and Aziraphale travelling together. I wish you (and the world) the
best for 2021.
 

The lights were dancing in the starry sky, a mix of bright green, yellow, and white glowing in the dark. Aziraphale looked at them serenely, ignoring the icy wind that was blowing across the gray-blue snow.

Thousands of years after Eden, Earth’s beauty still astonished him.

Crowley was less impressed because, despite being wrapped in his thick coat and his thick scarf, the chill was gradually permeating him in a way that made the experience slightly unpleasant. Oh, you might ask, “Why wouldn’t Crowley do a miracle so he could withstand the cold?”

Let’s say some facts are even stronger than supernatural entities that are thousands of years old. One of them was that Iceland’s chilly wind was enough to cut through anyone willing to walk outside without at minimum multiple layers of clothing, even if the person was from London.

This alone turned the observation of the aurora borealis into something very difficult for him to do, but worth it at the end. An excellent reason would be Aziraphale’s soft smile and the way he turned his face towards him.

“It was an amazing idea to come here; it's so beautiful.”

“It's nothing; just thought we haven't been here in a long time,” Crowley said, not bothering to hide his slight smile or the blush that reddened his cheeks.

“Oh, yeah. Middle ages. You were working with the Vikings, right?”

“Just hanging out. They had wonderful beer and loved to travel, but they were a bit too intense for my taste.”

Aziraphale nodded, recalling the sheer terror of the Irish monks working in their monasteries, creating wonderful books but cursing like nothing else the terrifying armies that could destroy their works.

He'd kept some of their books in his bookshop, caring for them as they would have done.

He looked back at the sky, remembering the time he had met Crowley during this era. It was during this time they'd created the Arrangement. It was also there he'd feared Hell’s wrath if they discovered Crowley’s way of dealing with his angelic counterpart. Now, the tables had turned and he couldn’t be happier. He looked at the demon, who tried to do anything but shiver.

“Are you alright, Crowley?” he asked again.

“Yes. Don’t worry.”

“We can walk a bit,” Aziraphale blurted in a falsely innocent tone. “I would like to see the Northern Lights reflecting off the ocean.”

Crowley nodded, and as he walked, Aziraphale slowly reached for his hand and wrapped it in his. It would have been easy to warm Crowley up without touching him. However, the angel had recently got attached to some gestures as was never the case before.

(They were free, truly free now.)

(It was such an incredible and terrifying idea, as were the dreams you couldn’t have imagined coming true.)

They returned to the city next to the shore where the lights were still glowing. As expected, the ocean was itself patterned with multiple colors, contrasting against the dark blue water. Wait, was the water blue or gray at night? Crowley didn’t know. He just picked his phone out of his pocket. He was about to take photos when Aziraphale asked:

“What are you doing?”

“Just sending it to Warlock. He said it will help with his next art commission,” Crowley replied. It delighted Aziraphale. Crowley had surprised him when he'd got back in contact with Warlock years ago. Aziraphale had also thought it was sweet, but he kept that to himself.

(“Kid lived through a plague, Angel. I practically raised him, I had to ask how he did while I was asleep. Also, he said Hastur smelled like poo last summer. He deserved something good.”)

“Will you send one to Adam as well?”

“I don’t know. He seems to prefer mysterious settings or foreign architecture. Those would inspire him a lot more.”

Aziraphale smiled, chuckling at the ironic thought that both children were becoming artists, one by writing, the other by painting. Then, he raised an eyebrow as Crowley took a selfie of them, both grinning.

“I will never understand why you enjoy selfies so much, dear.”

“Oh, come on, it's like the Renaissance portraits, except faster and easier to do.”

“I disagree. At least artists put some thought into their composition and did their best.”

“Times change, Angel. Also, you said otherwise when Arcimboldo painted you.”

“It's unfair to remind me of him,” Aziraphale replied. “He painted me as multiple fruits and vegetables. It wasn’t an authentic portrait.”

Crowley laughed, which made the angel frown.

“I thought it was fun.”

“May I talk to you about Bosch, dear?” Aziraphale said acidly. “I always thought his paintings were very impressive.”

“Oh, for someone’s sake, please…”

It was Aziraphale’s turn to laugh.

“Maybe it would be better if I talked about Houdini.”

“It wouldn’t be better if you talked about Houdini and you know it,” mumbled Crowley, barely hiding a smile. “May I invite you to dinner?”

“It would be a pleasure. Do you think we could have sushi tonight?”

“We're next to the ocean. We can have sushi, right?”

“Tip-top!”

Of course, they found sushi that night and, miraculously, an excellent set of French wines that could compete with the Ritz’s. Dinner was silent at first, because a band was playing at the restaurant. Then, out of the blue, Aziraphale asked:

“Would you like to go somewhere warmer tomorrow, Crowley?”

“Were we not settled on Japan for the next stop? Have you now changed your mind?”

“Oh, I still want to go to Japan, but I thought we could go somewhere in the South Mediterranean first.”

“Okay, what do you think about Malta or Marrakesh? It's been a long time since we visited them.”

“Centuries, I think.”

“Good,” Crowley whispered, thinking of the hand that warmed his some minutes ago. “Do you want to go to Constantinople after?”

“That would be perfect,” Aziraphale exclaimed.

Crowley felt happy and at peace. They'd frequently travelled after the long period where they'd stayed at home, enjoying rediscovering the world, the places they saw centuries ago, sharing memories and commentaries. He loved these moments with Aziraphale more than he'd ever dreamed. He didn’t need to ask Aziraphale for his opinion; the angel's joyful and satisfied smile was enough.