Happy Holidays, sara_wolf!
Dec. 16th, 2023 07:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
goe_mod posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
go_exchangeTitle: Deserving
Rating: Explicit
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley meet at the crucifixion of Christ and the angel suspects that Crowley might’ve had a bit more involvement in the Messiah’s journeys than just a quick tour around the world.
It had been over two thousand years since Aziraphale had helped save the children of Job, had lied to thwart the will of God, and had seen the demon Crawley with more than a passing glance. There she was now, standing at his shoulder with an accusatory expression and bitter words–and a new name. Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to blame her. It was a terrible business, and there was something more than simple demon snark in her voice–even though she feigned a casual separation. When she swept away from him, closer to the scene unfolding, he didn’t dare follow. He didn’t need a better look to feel the scope of suffering, but he did notice how Mary took Crowley into her arms, how they embraced and stood together in the fading light.
Aziraphale hadn’t intended to stay long, just to force himself to watch as some sort of pathetic, oddly-expressed apology for Jesus’ fate. Like any human, he hadn’t asked to be born, and despite Gabriel’s toothy, chuckled assurances, Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel Jesus hadn’t skipped to his fate with a song in his heart.
When it was finished, and the men were lowered from the crosses, Crowley was still there, following Jesus to the tomb where she helped prepare his body with a reverence of which Aziraphale hadn’t thought a demon capable. The angel stood by, a miracle keeping him out of sight to the humans as he watched, eyes locked on Crowley until she was at his side. The tomb was sealed and the other mourners left them together in a pregnant silence that stretched on painfully.
“You didn’t just tempt him,” Aziraphale said.
She looked at him sharply, but when she didn’t see an accusation in his eyes she looked back to the tomb. “He was fun.”
Aziraphale watched the tears flow down her freckle-dusted cheeks despite the tight smile on her face, “Fun?”
Crowley nodded, “You should have seen him flip a table. He’s nothing like Her you know. He isn’t judgmental. He isn’t… he wasn’t…” Her voice broke and she wrapped her arms around herself, “Too fucking good for the whole lot of you.”
“Did you love him?” Now Aziraphale was being accusatory, almost aghast at the idea.
Crowley scowled, “Fuck off, Angel.” She turned and walked away.
Aziraphale’s cheeks darkened and his heart dropped before he hurried after her, “I’m sorry, Crowley!” He reached for her arm and she spun around like he’d burned her before falling into his arms and sobbing wretchedly into his robes.
Angels spent a lot of time comforting–or rather, Aziraphale did; most angels tended to stay in heaven none too eager to get closely involved with humans beyond what God commanded. Aziraphale though, he’d held people on their death beds, sent children to the beyond with the slightest push to ease their suffering. He had been on sinking boats and held the hand of the abused in the dark. This, though, this raw pain that a human might very well not be capable of, startled him. The fact that it was Crowley–someone who had comforted Aziraphale when he expected to be dragged down to Hell for defying God’s plan–made things worse. He owed her what little comfort he could give, so he let his arms wrap around her slender form, one hand resting on the back of her head to gently lower it to his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, the same phrase meaning something entirely different than seconds before. “I am so very sorry. It must hurt terribly, losing someone you love.”
Crowley stiffened and sighed against him, sniffling as she struggled to pull herself together. “Felt a lot of hurt,” she muttered against him, voice raw despite being muffled. “Kind of the point, isn’t it? I’m supposed to lose what I love. Not even supposed to love in the first place, am I? Sure as fuck not supposed to be following Her son around to the ends of the earth… I didn’t… I didn’t tempt him, not like that. I tried to get him to leave, to run or to lie about his identity. I wanted him to be afraid… to be human. He’s supposed to be human isn’t he? Fallible.” She pulled away, looking around.
Aziraphale wrung his hands, mind racing. He needed to help, needed to fix this, “Wine!” He blushed and stammered, “We should… I have a place nearby. You could have some wine?”
Crowley watched Aziraphale’s face for agonizingly slow seconds, her expression unreadable. “Alright. Don’t have plans I guess. Sabbath’s tomorrow, so no more to be done until the day after. I don’t…” She sniffed, wiping at her eyes. “Don’t have anywhere to go.”
“I’d be happy to have you until you need to return,” Aziraphale said. “Three days, is it?”
“Don’t think I’d better hang around,” Crowley said. “Demon and all. I doubt Jesus is going to be happy to see the likes of me after he rises from the dead.”
Aziraphale’s heart dropped and he cleared his throat, “I suppose it isn’t for us to know.”
Crowley turned on him with a scowl so fierce Aziraphale actually flinched, “Let’s just go.”
—-------
They walked in silence, completely draped in heavy awkwardness like darkness despite the afternoon sun burning overhead. Crowley looked tired, but Aziraphale couldn’t ignore her beauty, tragic though it was at the current moment. Guilt burned red on his face and in his heart, tingling down to his fingertips, “You still like wine, right? I um… well I don’t partake but I keep it. For guests.”
Deciding his little white lie had covered himself enough that it wasn’t too obvious he’d been hoping to run into Crowley, Aziraphale smiled to himself. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable and the walk wasn’t terribly long. The room was nice enough. Aziraphale liked nice things, comfortable chairs and nice bedding even if he didn’t sleep. The wine was on the small table where he generally sat to read.
Crowley crossed the room and picked up the amphora, removing the wax covering and giving the wine within an appraising smell. She shrugged and poured herself a glass before sitting on the edge of the table. Aziraphale hesitated a bit, pulling a chair away from the table and sitting far enough away so as not to crowd her. “It’s not terrible,” she said after a taste. “Entertain a lot of guests, do you?”
Aziraphale blushed, picking at an invisible imperfection on his robes, “Never hurts to be prepared.”
“I certainly can’t complain,” Crowley said. “Satan knows it wouldn’t do any good.”
Aziraphale gave a tiny nervous laugh, “No I don’t suppose it would.”
Crowley sneered and had another swallow of wine, “So what are you doing here? Aside from bearing witness?”
“I suppose that’s all, really,” Aziraphale said. “I’ll remain here for three more days and then… well I don’t know really. Do you have plans?”
“Might go to the ocean,” Crowley said. “Find something to do on the coast and enjoy a bit of actual humidity for a while.”
Aziraphale looked out the room’s small window and thought about that, about just how far away the coast would take Crowley and, more importantly, for how long. He sucked in a breath, “Have you tried anything else?”
“Whassat?” she said, looking up as if startled from her thoughts.
“I only mean to ask whether you’ve… sampled any other human things beyond wine and… eating.”
“Don’t eat much, really,” Crowley said. “Doesn’t quite hit the spot like a good drink. Drinking helps… well, I don’t know what it helps. Slows things down or makes ‘em quiet for a while.”
“Things?”
“Yes, Angel,” she said, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface of her demeanor. “Things.” She made a small sweeping gesture with her hand as if that would answer his question.
Aziraphale twisted the fabric of his robes in his hands for a moment before he considered the very real danger of worrying a hole in it–that wouldn’t do at all. “There are other ways.”
Crowley regarded him for a moment, golden eyes curious if a bit guarded, “To what?”
“Slow down the things,” Aziraphale said. “As you’ve so eloquently explained it to me.”
Crowley grinned at that. She never seemed to mind his snark, “Let’s hear it then. What’s all this about other ways?”
Aziraphale cleared his throat, “Well it involves… well. You’re aware of human reproduction?”
“Done enough midwifery to know a bit,” Crowley said. “Not sure what that could possibly do with anything.”
“Oh Lord,” Aziraphale sighed to himself as he forced himself to continue, “Well it’s more about the anatomy.”
Crowley glanced downward and then back at Aziraphale with a look of realization, “Do you? Have a-”
“Originally it was more of a cosmetic choice. Humans tend to ask questions, all that.”
“Right. ‘Course. So what’ve you got?”
Aziraphale blinked, “Oh. Yes. I settled on what Adam had. Seems to be a good match for this configuration.”
“And what do you do with it? Wait… with humans?”
“Absolutely not!” Aziraphale cried. “Just alone in the privacy of my own room!”
Crowley shrugged, “Alone? What’s the point in reproducing alone? You’re not an amoeba. I mean you could be, I suppose, but the means of ambulation alone would be one Heaven of a hindrance to-”
“Yes, well,” Aziraphale interrupted as Crowley began to ramble. “It relieves stress, I’ve found. It’s rather lovely. The mess notwithstanding.”
Crowley gave him a look not entirely like the one she gave him when he confessed to giving up his flaming sword, delighted surprise and something he couldn’t quite place, “So you’re asking if I’ve done that? Suggesting I should?”
“If you’d like to,” Aziraphale said.
Crowley stared for a moment before nodding, “Right. Show me how then?”
Aziraphale did his best not to stutter as he spoke, “We should sit on the bed I think. It’s more comfortable.”
Crowley stood and walked over, looking at the bed for a moment before flopping down unceremoniously on it, “Now what?”
“Alright let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Aziraphale said, standing and moving to join her. He settled himself against the top of the bed, legs spread a bit, “Sit here, lean against me.”
She moved until she was settled between his legs, her back pressed to his chest. There was the slightest tremble in her voice as she spoke, “LIke this, Angel?”
“Perfect,” Aziraphale said. “Have you made it then?”
“A cunt?” Crowley asked with a primness that certainly didn’t match her wording. She gathered her robes, leaning more into him and exposing her open thighs.
Aziraphale barely noticed the crassness, mesmerized by the pale skin of her thighs and the soft, fiery curls that framed the center of her. He licked his lips, “Yes, that.”
Crowley shifted, “Well?”
Aziraphale exhaled, running both hands down her arms, “I can’t tell you what you like of course, but I can show you what I’ve liked and you may… take over from there.”
Without further hesitation he slid his left hand down her thigh, marveling at how privileged he was to touch her like this, slow and soft and insistent. She squirmed a bit, letting out an exhalation through her nose that was almost a snort of laughter at the light touch tickling her inner thigh. The sounds sharpened into a surprised gasp when he gently parted her folds with a finger, barely restraining a moan at the wetness already gathering there. Crowley shuddered, “Angel?”
Aziraphale hesitated, his fingers stilling completely, “Yes?”
She pushed herself forward against his hand impatiently, “Why’d you stop? A demon can’t ask a bloody question?”
“My deepest apologies,” Aziraphale snarked, but he was smiling as he sought out her clit, applying gentle pressure. “What was your question?”
“Nnngh, don’t remember,” she grumbled. “This what you do?”
“Have done,” Aziraphale said, moving the pads of two fingers in slow small circles. He followed her sounds, changing tactics until he got her to hiss out a particularly colorful swear. “Give me your hand.”
Crowley held out her left hand, the right going to grip tight to the blanket on the bed beneath them. Aziraphale guided her hand into the spot where his own just was. Crowley’s fingers trembled under his, but she let him teach, following each touch and soft instruction. Their fingers moved together until the sounds of bitten back moans and slick slides of skin drowned out the quiet.
When he pulled his fingers away she whined softly, “Angel?”
“Go on,” he said, resisting the extreme urge to lick his fingertips. Instead he settled for inhaling the sharp, perfect smell of her arousal as he watched her hand move from over her shoulder, the working muscles of her forearm and the delicate sway of her wrist. He imagined her scent would ruin him forever; even the most perfect of Eden’s flowers paled in comparison.
“Fucking heaven,” she sighed, breath hitching. “Aziraphale?”
“That’s it,” Aziraphale encouraged, his whisper soft against her ear, barely rising above her sharp breaths. “Soft and slow.”
Crowley whined softly, her lithe body arching and her shoulders pressing back into his chest, “Angel I… I can’t. It’s too…” She bit off her own words with a moan.
“Relax,” Aziraphale said. “There’s no right way. It’s just about feeling good. It’s alright.”
She was quiet for a moment, like she was coming up with an argument, but Aziraphale squeezed her biceps in gentle encouragement and she settled, “Angel…”
Aziraphale closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the nape of her neck, grateful he resisted the temptation to involve himself further. He wasn’t so certain he’d be able to ignore his own insistent lust if he had to live through the pressure of her pert arse against his hard cock. He settled for brushing her long hair from her shoulders and dropping the smallest of kisses where the dark cloth of her robes had slipped down her arm and revealed a constellation of freckles.
When she came it was the steady eruption of a volcano, slow and insistent until the cresting of molten heat flowed at breakneck speeds back down pleasure’s mountainous peak. He held her through it, breathing words older than the Earth in her ear. Words that made utterances like enough, righteous, deserving fall terribly short of their mark. She cried in his arms, turning to hide her face in his robes and let him stroke her back until she hiccuped herself to a sleepy silence. He helped her down to the bed, kissing away tears–as many as he dared. She found his hand with her own and brought it to her lips as she drifted to sleep.
Darkness fell again, this time slow and natural, the light retreating until Crowley’s sleeping face was lit only by shafts of moonlight pouring into the window. She was at peace, soft and beautiful and Aziraphale wanted nothing more than to kiss her, to love her and keep her. She wasn't his anymore than anything else on the earth, made for someone else, something else, and he was a guardian made greedy by the slightest indulgences. Eating, reading and watching Crowley sleep were just the little hedonisms he would eventually have to ask forgiveness for–if he could ever find it in his heart to mean it. And so with nothing capable of pulling him elsewhere, he guarded, watching over Crowley’s sleeping form as stalwartly as he’d ever watched over anything.
—-------
Crowley was gone by sunrise, and Aziraphale didn’t see her until three days had passed. He knew to be at the tomb just as he’d known to be at the crucifixion, an odd and silent observer that none of the humans seemed to notice. It was shaping up to be a lovely day, the taste of honey and barley still sweetening his mouth from breakfast.
Crowley was beautiful in the light, a vision in black with red hair swept by the dry winds as Jesus spoke to her. He lifted her lowered face and took her hands in his. Aziraphale didn’t hear their actual words but he could see the messiah’s expression, the love and joy there despite knowing—he had to know now if not before–what she was. Crowley’s voice was shaking, weepy and vulnerable and Aziraphale couldn’t help but remember how she’d trembled in his arms the night they’d spent together. It caused a lump to rise in his throat, but like Crowley’s, the tears burning his own eyes were mostly happy.
She was able to say proper goodbyes, to be validated by the son of God Herself. She deserved more and Aziraphale shivered at just how much he meant that dangerous thought. Crowley belonged under Her wings, not crawling blind and screaming in a boiling sea of sulfur. What could be more divine than a creature so completely made of love–real love as well, not the patronizing distanced sort of love Heaven was touting?
Aziraphale pulled his coat closer around himself and left his spot to go and clear out his lodgings. He’d had his fill of Israel and the ocean really did sound lovely.
(no subject)
Date: 2023-12-17 03:42 am (UTC)And to give each other just a little moment of peace. I love that they’re there for each other, always, even in times like these that could so easily pull them apart. Thanks for sharing this!
(no subject)
Date: 2023-12-17 01:07 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2023-12-20 10:31 pm (UTC)