Happy Holidays, i_llbedammned!
Dec. 18th, 2023 07:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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go_exchangeRating: T
Summary: Aziraphale surprises Crowley with some flying trapeze lessons. Crowley is less than enthused at first, but as they learn some new skills, poorly-hidden truths and long-standing regrets come to light. Will they overcome their fears and trust one another after everything they’ve gone through together?
(Spoiler: yes, they will.)
The Bentley skidded to a stop in the middle of a grassy field, its engine grumbling with what felt like disdain. Crowley smoothed his fingers over the car’s dash, but he could hardly give much comfort when he was himself a hair’s breadth away from panic.
“Angel,” he began, eyes fixed unblinkingly on the colossal red and white tent across the field,“have I made a wrong turn?”
Aziraphale, who had been suspiciously quiet throughout the ride, was now beaming at Crowley with the full force of his angelic goodwill. “Surprise!”
“It is, yeah,” Crowley replied, maintaining as even a tone as he could. “Why are we at a circus?”
Aziraphale’s radiance continued to bathe the Bentley’s interior with warmth and light. Crowley’s shoulders unclenched minutely, and he inhaled a steadying breath, helpless in the face of his angel’s excitement. Retirement—for real this time—had proven to be a tremendous tax on his emotions, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
“Well, Maggie suggested we try a trust-building exercise. Something about ‘teamwork in the face of danger’. I thought it was a marvellous idea, so…” Aziraphale shimmied his shoulders and made a theatrical twinkling gesture with his fingers. “I made a few calls, so to speak.”
Crowley stared, nodded, and stared some more. “Y-uh. Team. Teamwork. Got it.” A horrible thought occurred to him, and he turned to face Aziraphale head-on. “No guns. No guns, right?”
Aziraphale met his gaze, brow creasing as memories of an eventful night many years ago flashed across his features. “None whatsoever,” he said firmly. “I promise.”
The blaring alarms in Crowley’s head quieted, and he subsided against the Bentley’s cushioned seat. “Right. Terrific.” He eyed the big-top circus tent warily, but when made to choose between his own apprehension and the angel’s pleading face, he grumbled and pushed the door open. “Let’s get on with it, then.”
As soon as he’d secured Crowley’s participation, Aziraphale became a flurry of cream-coloured activity. He linked their arms and towed the stumbling demon along beside him until they reached what must have been the circus’ back entrance. A remarkably tall, wide curtain separated the interior of the tent from the open field, and crates containing everything from colossal stage lights to sequinned costumes were piled up under smaller tents surrounding the entrance.
“Ah, hello!” Aziraphale called, his grip on Crowley’s arm squeezing minutely tighter. “I’m looking for a Miss Fortuna? We’ve an appointment for the… private lessons.”
Crowley had all of a few moments to ponder whether he should be concerned. Between the performer’s rather dubious-sounding moniker and the way Aziraphale’s voice had dropped to a salacious timbre at that last bit, he could already feel the urge to manifest some nice, sharp fangs tingling in the back of his mind.
For better or worse, Miss Fortuna, apparently, appeared from behind the black curtain before he could act on his impulses.
“Cheerio!” Miss Fortuna announced, grinning so confidently at the two of them that Crowley forgot to scoff at the greeting. She was very short, only just tall enough to reach the middle of Crowley’s chest, but every bit of her frame was heavy with muscle. Her clothing was loose and casual, and her short, dark hair sprouted from a ponytail at the top of her head like a cheerful plant. Whatever he might have pictured a circus acrobat to look like, she didn’t quite match his expectations. “I’m Miss Fortuna, but you can call me Abigail. I’ll be teaching your flying trapeze class today!”
“You what?” Crowley blurted, frantically looking between Aziraphale and the human. “You mean to tell me you thought we’d have a little jaunt into trusting one another by flinging ourselves through the air on ropes?”
“Oh, come now, darling,” Aziraphale said, looking mildly discomfited for the first time, as if he hadn’t quite expected to make it this far and wasn’t certain how to proceed. “I… I’d be there to catch you. I rather thought that would be the point.”
Miss Fortuna—Abigail—held up her hands placatingly, her eyes wide and confused. “We needn’t try anything you aren’t comfortable with, gentlemen, but our equipment is very safe, and you’ll have plenty of time to take things slowly! Mister Fell did reserve the full day in advance, so—“
Crowley wasn’t listening. The thought of Aziraphale having planned this excursion in detail with the full intention of, what, holding his hands while they dangled from bars? The serpent in him flexed and clenched, ready to flee or strike out. His own mind, however, the part of him that cared for Aziraphale, that trusted Aziraphale, kept him rooted in place. The noise of the world slowly filtered back into his awareness, and he came back to reality with the knowledge that he had been keeping silent eye contact with Aziraphale for at least thirty seconds, judging by the concerned pout on his lips and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
“The Goggle said that this was suitable for any level of experience. Children do this for birthday parties, it said, so I thought…” Aziraphale’s earlier enthusiasm had evaporated, and he sounded disappointed—not with him, Crowley knew, but with himself. “It was a silly idea.”
“It’s a fantastic idea, angel,” Crowley said, with all the positivity he could muster. Aziraphale blinked owlishly up at him, so he gave the angel one of his most convincing grins. “Just surprised, ‘s’all. Didn’t take you for the type.”
He turned to Abigail, who had been pretending to rearrange some costumes while they sorted themselves out. “Let’s get on with it, then. We’ve got a whole day booked, yeah?”
Abigail spun on her heel, eager grin back on her face. “Wonderful. First we’ll need to get you fitted with some proper clothing, and then you’ll be harnessed and ready to try the bars!”
Crowley smiled toothily at her as whatever passed for his stomach swooped up into his throat. Then Aziraphale’s hand found his own, and he nearly toppled over entirely.
“Crowley,” the angel whispered, “are you certain you’re willing to try this? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, you know. None of that for us anymore.”
He revisited the mental image he’d had at the start, of the two of them gripping one another tight as they flew through the air, each ensuring the other’s stability, trusting one another to hold on and maintain the momentum. Safety. Teamwork. Trust.
“Still think y’could’ve started out with some dance lessons,” Crowley joked, then sobered. They deserved the truth from each other, especially after Everything. “‘M’all in if you are, angel.”
Aziraphale smiled, one of those tender, gentle smiles he used to share only when he thought no one was looking. “R-Right-o. Glad to hear it, dear boy.”
The lesson itself progressed with little fanfare after that, with Abigail’s firm guidance and patient instruction leading each of them through the beginning phases.
Crowley watched with rapt attention as Aziraphale moved through the motions to swing upside-down from the bar, looking shockingly unbuttoned in a soft, light blue tee shirt, which he had insisted on wearing tucked into his grey joggers. The angel fumbled and swore and laughed more than a bit on his first few tries, but the grace and strength that was woven into the very fabric of him kept his movements fluid, even skilful before long. Not for the first time, Crowley found himself wishing he could have seen Aziraphale at the height of his dancing hobby, but this moment rather resoundingly made up for that loss.
Crowley’s turns on the bar were, he felt, lacklustre in comparison. His spine slinked when it needed to stretch, his limbs twisted when he needed to turn, and he realised Aziraphale might have been on to something with the tucked-in shirt when his own fell over his face for the umpteenth time. Still, Abigail seemed to approve of his mediocre skills, and Aziraphale’s expression was soft and pleased whenever he caught a glimpse of his face, if a bit oddly pink about the edges at times.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was more likely a few hours, Abigail deemed them both ready for tandem trapeze.
“Are you ready?” Abigail said, staring into Crowley’s eyes. He’d been forced to remove his sunglasses for fear of harming himself if he fell, but Abigail had hardly reacted to the sight of his slitted pupils at all. It would have put him on-edge if not for his knowledge of her background as a circus entertainer.
“Yup,” he replied, and used a minor miracle to ensure his palms wouldn’t sweat.
“You’ll be supporting some of your partner’s weight, and the momentum will feel much stronger while you swing,” she told him, clearly unimpressed by his manufactured coolness. “Trust him to hold on to you. Trust yourself to hold on to him. If one of you falls, we’ll just climb back up here and do it again until you’re familiar with one another’s patterns and movements.”
His gaze skittered over to Aziraphale, who was fussing with his own harness. Tension hung in the air between them. The weight of the years tugged at Crowley’s conscience, reminding him of all the times they’d tried this before, metaphorically speaking, and failed spectacularly. He fought his own mind, presenting a success for every failure. Aziraphale had trusted him to do no harm to Job’s children even so many thousands of years ago, had trusted him even when Crowley hadn’t been sure he could be trusted. He had believed in him during their botched magic trick in that old theatre. Aziraphale had even trusted him with the Holy Water, eventually. And the Antichrist. When they fought to remain on their own side, for once and for all, Aziraphale had stood at his side and refused to budge, even when all the doubt that had simmered between them had seemed insurmountable just years before. They’d nearly dropped one another so many times, but still, here they were.
Crowley thought all of these things as he watched Aziraphale pace about the platform, no doubt fretting over all the same history in his own quiet way. Wasn’t this always their story? Losing their tenuous grip on their emotions, all over some heavy-handed metaphor?
“Don’t worry,” he said, a fraction louder than he needed to. “We’ve got it. Now let’s start the damn show before my arms fall off, yeah?”
Abigail nodded, smiled, and set him swinging.
Carefully, he moved through the steps until he had looped himself successfully over the bar, his arms outstretched as he hung upside-down.
“Now or never, angel,” he called, risking a cheeky wink in Aziraphale’s direction and beckoning him with his hands.
“Right, of course, be right with you!” Aziraphale stammered, toeing the edge of the platform with trepidation he hadn’t shown during the entire rest of their lesson.
Crowley’s heart went heavy, and he had a bizarre thought that it might tumble up through his ribcage and out of his mouth. “You’re the one who wanted to do this.”
“I know,” Aziraphale snapped. “I… I will. Just give me a moment.”
Venom pooled on Crowley’s tongue. “I’ve given you a lifetime of moments, Aziraphale. This was your bloody idea!”
“I—!” Aziraphale blurted, then stopped himself. Crowley watched him as he swayed, upside down, literally hanging by a few flimsy wires. “I’m afraid I’ll let go, Crowley.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, aware he must look ridiculous, but unable to care. “Do you want to let go? Do you intend to let go? Because I sure as hell don’t.”
Abigail opened her mouth to interrupt, and Aziraphale’s hand flicked downward for a subtle miracle. She froze in place, no doubt transported to a dream of whatever she liked best.
“This is precisely why Maggie suggested this to me,” Aziraphale mumbled. He tugged at the safety cables which connected him to the colossal trapeze structure. “We have all these wires, and harnesses, and—! All of this ridiculous human nonsense, just to help me feel comfortable doing something I would be, I am more than capable of doing, were I not such a… coward.”
Crowley’s lungs stuttered, and he held his breath for a few long moments. With a snap of his fingers, he brought himself to a stop, halfway between the two platforms. “You’re not a coward, angel. You’ve never been a coward.”
“You’ve always been the one to offer this to me,” Aziraphale said. He lowered himself down until he was seated at the edge of his platform. “You take a risk, then I leave you waiting when it’s my turn to risk something for you. I thought I could be the one to take a risk for once. We could come here together, and I would hold you, and you would feel safe with me. I brought you to a circus! And you were willing to trust me without hesitation!”
“There was some hesitation,” Crowley answered dryly.
Aziraphale huffed a laugh and kicked his feet, swinging his legs out over the drop. “I don’t want to let you go, Crowley. I never have. But I’ve done it before, time and again. How can you still—!”
“Angel, stop.”
He straightened, mouth agape as if he’d been slapped.
“‘S’not your decision, is it? What I choose to do,” Crowley continued. “I am hanging upside-down right now , and if I really didn’t want to be upside down, waiting for you, I’d bloody well stop. Now, here’s what I’m hearing: I don’t want to let you go. You don’t want to let me go. If that’s all right and good, then why don’t we try to get the fuck over ourselves and do this together?”
Aziraphale’s face flushed, rosy redness spreading over his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. “I… well… yes, yes, I think I’d like that.”
“I don’t mean just the trapeze, angel,” Crowley added, watching Aziraphale as closely as he could manage.
Aziraphale’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, but he met Crowley’s gaze without wavering. “Neither do I.”
Electric tingles accumulated in all of Crowley’s limbs, and he felt as if at any moment a bolt of lightning would tear through his entire body, ripping him into thousands of tiny pieces. “Great. Yeah. ‘S’great.”
With a smile that could have lit up the entire circus and half the county besides, Aziraphale gestured a miracle. Slowly, Crowley’s trapeze moved towards Aziraphale, rising until he hovered at the apex of the swing’s height, suspended in the air an arm’s reach away from the angel.
“Remember,” Crowley said, allowing a tiny, genuine smile, “if one of us falls, we’ll just climb back up here and do it again.”
“That sounds like a lovely idea,” Aziraphale replied.
Crowley reached out.
Aziraphale grasped his hands.
The miracle released, and they plummeted together along the arc of the trapeze’s path.
Their hands never slipped, finding their homes in one another’s hold. When one of them moved, the other countered, maintaining balance, maintaining rhythm. They laughed and watched one another, gathering speed and leaning into the momentum.
When they finally tired, each of them dismounted, one after the other, the way they’d been shown. Almost instantly, Crowley felt Aziraphale take his hand again, for no other reason than because he wished to.
Slow applause jolted them out of their private daze, and they turned in unison to gawk at Abigail. She stood where they’d left her, but the gleam in her eyes showed that the miracle must have faded away a while ago.
“Congratulations,” Abigail said, grinning at them through the tears threatening to spill. “You two are the best students I’ve ever taught. Sometimes it’s good to get out of your comfort zone and trust that things’ll turn out all right, yeah?”
Crowley looked at Aziraphale, who looked right back at him. He squeezed his angel’s hand, and his angel squeezed his hand in return.
“You have no idea, my dear,” Aziraphale announced. “I think that’ll be all for today. My partner and I have some dinner plans to enjoy.”
Crowley rocked back on his heels but barely managed not to fall over at the intent in Aziraphale’s voice. “We’ll be back, though,” he managed.
“We will?” Aziraphale asked, genuine surprise overtaking his expression.
“Yup,” Crowley said. “You haven’t had a chance to hold me up yet. I’m not missing out on that.”
(no subject)
Date: 2023-12-19 04:18 am (UTC)“Aziraphale became a flurry of cream-coloured activity” lol
The GOGGLE
Aziraphale at the height of his dancing hobby is a sight we’d all like to see more of
MAN I wish I could use a minor miracle to make MY palms not sweat…
Oh, I loved this :’) I stopped quoting lines only because I was too swept away by it all. I love how you turned the idea of them trapezing into THIS moment for them! And Crowley saying he’s there because he wants to be, just as he always has been and always will be—and Aziraphale trusting him :’) Absolutely lovely!
Lovely!
Date: 2023-12-19 10:27 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2023-12-20 07:29 pm (UTC)I love them.
Thank you for sharing!
(no subject)
Date: 2023-12-20 10:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2023-12-21 03:04 am (UTC)The constant balance of trust with suspicion was perfectly captured! The line "Aziraphale had trusted him to do no harm to Job’s children even so many thousands of years ago, had trusted him even when Crowley hadn’t been sure he could be trusted." was so good!
The breakdown was beautiful and so fitting. Aziraphale is just the type to plan something bold and lose his nerve when it starts getting too close. And bringing them together just felt so genuine and sweet.
(no subject)
Date: 2023-12-29 05:04 am (UTC)