Happy Holidays, Ineffable_Angel!
Dec. 16th, 2005 01:48 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
vulgarweed.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
go_exchangeTitle: To Fix Broken Wings
For:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ineffable_angel
Author:moonfairyhime
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley (established relationship)
Summary: Crowley returns home from a business trip to find Aziraphale in a few more pieces than he left him in.
Author Notes: The fic that was requested needed to include these elements: prefers: slash; Any rating; Aziraphale/Crowley;prompt: flight, hurt/comfort. I may have taken the hurt to a different level, but I hope you like it!
Crowley kneeled next to Aziraphale, tenderly brushing a lock of blonde hair out of his face. The shop was in ruins. Books that Crowley knew the angel had kept for eons had been burned. A few had been carefully ripped straight down the spine and then slashed into teeny tiny pieces. Crowley wondered how much miracling it would take to restore the shop to its former glory or if that much miracling was even possible.
Whoever Aziraphale had managed to piss off, they had made sure to leave their mark on both the angel and the shop. What really worried Crowley, though, was that he wasn't sure if the attack was demonic or angelic in origin. He could feel no trace of either power. The entire shop was clean.
Aziraphale's body resembled a discarded child's toy. Slash marks, easily made by either claws or a sword, formed neat little rows on his arms, reminding Crowley of how Napoleon's soldiers used to fight. Crowley was sure he didn't want to lift up the angel's old mauve sweater (which Crowley remembered giving it to him about ten years ago and really wasn't surprised that the angel still had it) and could only guess at the damage done. Aziraphale's wings were out in the open, and from the looks of it, he had tried to escape by air, only to be grabbed by his wings and pulled back down. His wings resembled a cat's scratching post and Crowley knew it that while it wouldn't take long for the angel's wings were ready to support his weight again, he wasn't sure when Aziraphale was going to want to fly again.
"What did they do to you? Better yet, who did this to you?"
Aziraphale didn't answer, which really didn't surprise Crowley. The bruises around his neck assured Crowley that the angel wasn't going to be able to natter on for at least a week.
Crowley gently picked up the angel and started to carry him towards the bedroom above the store. Crowley then remembered that Aziraphale's bedroom could only be called a bedroom because of the fact it housed a bed and promptly turned around and headed towards his Bentley.
~~
Crowley had spent the last month in Brazil. He had stirred up feelings of discontent, all stemming from the fact that the Brazilians spoke Portuguese while the rest of South America spoke Spanish. It had been a particularly successful month in terms of tempting, but the demon had missed Aziraphale greatly. Tempting was just no fun without someone there to thwart you. And if said thwarter made an excellent bed warmer, then Crowley was all the more willing to allow a few potential sinners become saints.
Needless to say, coming home (or the continent that Crowley more or less considered home. It was more homely than his true home) to see Aziraphale and his beloved book shop torn apart was not the homecoming he expected. Crowley had called Aziraphale before leaving Brazil and the decidedly not-angelic tone of voice Aziraphale had been using made the demon all the more anxious to return. That particular tone of voice promised Crowley many, many good things.
And coming home to find both the angel and the shop in pieces drastically changed all of the plans Crowley had made.
~~
It was two days before Aziraphale awoke. Two long days in which Crowley watched his lover's body slowly begin the tedious healing process. After the first day, Aziraphale's human body had been healed, but Crowley knew, from personal experience, that the angel's true body would take at least another three days to heal. Crowley had been most saintly as he watched Aziraphale heal himself; he had washed the angel's face and made sure to never wander out of hearing distance if Aziraphale should wake up and need him.
Crowley had nearly nodded off when he noticed bright blue eyes staring at him. He quickly jumped out of the chair he had been sitting in and sat down on the bed. "Hey there, angel."
"Crowley? What am I doing in your apartment?" Aziraphale asked as he slowly sat up.
"I had to bring you here. Your shop was in ruins and I wasn't going to let you heal in that place you call a bedroom."
"That room really doesn't exist for you or me to sleep in, dear."
Crowley shrugged, not at all embarrassed. "What happened?"
Aziraphale looked at him. "What do you mean, Crowley?
Crowley pulled the angel into his arms. "Don't play cute, angel. What happened to you and your shop?"
Aziraphale looked at Crowley. "I'm not sure I'm ready to discuss this."
Crowley pulled all the knowledge he had of what late-night infomercial and television psychologists deemed the right thing to say. "The sooner you start telling me what happened, the better you'll feel. Trust me."
"Nipped that off a Friday night drama, didn't you?"
Crowley wasn't bothered by the snarky tone. It was nice to see the angel beginning to act like his normal self. "Aziraphale..."
Aziraphale huffed in response. He then sighed and Crowley knew he won. "The shop was closed and I was waiting for you to return from Brazil. I heard the bell above the door ring, and I thought it was you. I turned around and saw a demon I've never seen before."
Crowley went stiff. "You're sure it was a demon?"
"Unless angels have started wearing horns and using claws, then yes, I'm sure it was a demon."
"What happened to the demon?" Crowley's voice was very stable and flat, which worried the angel.
"It's dead, Crowley. That's the reason half the shop is in ruin... My books! My poor books. The.. cretin was destroying my books. That's how I knew it wasn't you. You know what happens when someone messes with my books."
Crowley at least looked sheepish, having irked the angel once or twice about his books before the Arrangement and most certainly before they started sleeping together. He remembered the fall of the Roman Empire well and he never wanted to see Aziraphale that vexed again. He prodded the angel with a finger to get Aziraphale to continue telling his story.
"The rest is history. I managed to destroy the fool, but not before he did a fair amount of damage to me and my shop."
"Why you, angel? We haven't been contacted since the near-Apocalypse."
"It was a lower-ranking demon. It probably wanted a good commendation on its record and figured I was easy prey. Crowley, do you have tea? I could go for a nice cup of Earl Gray."
Without even thinking, Crowley miracled a cup and handed it to Aziraphale. He watched him take slow sips and figured that his throat was still bothering him. When Aziraphale finished, Crowley set the cup on his nightstand. "Sleep, angel. You're still healing."
Aziraphale slowly lowered himself back into the bed, carefully tugging Crowley down with him. Aziraphale snuggled into his arms and allowed himself to rest.
Crowley smiled softly at the angel, giving him a once over before deeming it safe for him to sleep also.
~~
It was a week after Aziraphale woke up when he asked Crowley to take him to his books. Crowley had protested and tried to postpone the reunion of angel and ruined shop, but when Aziraphale softly kissed his cheek, Crowley knew the argument was lost. Besides, the plants were beginning to love the angelic presence in the flat and Crowley figured it would take at least a week to put the fear of, well, Crowley back into them. As Aziraphale stepped out of the Bentley (having not said one word to Crowley about his driving, which worried Crowley as he had made sure to break more laws than he normally did), his mouth formed a thin line. Aziraphale slowly walked into his shop and tried to not think about how many years of books had been destroyed. He started to think of what could be replaced or miracled before he saw a pile of words and kneeled down to see what they had come from. Crowley walked in as he began to kneel and tried to think of a sarcastic, witty comment to break Aziraphale out of his melancholy mood, but instead knelt down beside him, curious to see what book pieces caught his attention first.
"I want my shop back to normal. I want to fly again, Crowley." Aziraphale smiled sadly, picking up the pieces of his signed first edition of Jane Austen's Pride and the Prejudice.
Crowley fought back the immediate sarcastic remark and instead shrugged. "Then fly, angel. I'll be glad to help you, but ultimately, you're the one who has to piece back together your life."
~~
The last five days had been spent cleaning up the bookshop, both by miracling and by doing manual work. Aziraphale had decided to repaint the shop, and while the shop was not completely back to its original glory, it was well on its way to making a full recovery. Crowley knew that this night, however, would make or break the angel. He watched as Aziraphale carefully took flight. He waited until the angel was about fifty feet in the air before silently taking off and following him. He stayed a few feet behind, letting Aziraphale know he should do this by himself, but the demon would not let him do this task alone. Crowley was determined to be there in case the angel should fall. Aziraphale turned slowly to the demon and smiled. The smile reminded Crowley of the Aziraphale before the unprompted attack and Crowley felt his world shift back in to place.
Crowley felt himself smiling back. Aziraphale mouthed the words 'Thank you, my dear' before continuing to commune with the night sky, seemingly enjoying the feel of the wind through his wings. Crowley paused as he watched Aziraphale flutter through the night sky before going to see if he could engage the angel in some tag. It had been ages since they last played this particular form of tag.
Aziraphale still owed Crowley some mind-blowing sex, but as the demon flew to the angel, he figured that could wait until tomorrow.
~end~
Happy Holidays,ineffable_angel from your Secret Writer!
For:
ineffable_angelAuthor:
moonfairyhimeRating: PG-13
Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley (established relationship)
Summary: Crowley returns home from a business trip to find Aziraphale in a few more pieces than he left him in.
Author Notes: The fic that was requested needed to include these elements: prefers: slash; Any rating; Aziraphale/Crowley;prompt: flight, hurt/comfort. I may have taken the hurt to a different level, but I hope you like it!
Crowley kneeled next to Aziraphale, tenderly brushing a lock of blonde hair out of his face. The shop was in ruins. Books that Crowley knew the angel had kept for eons had been burned. A few had been carefully ripped straight down the spine and then slashed into teeny tiny pieces. Crowley wondered how much miracling it would take to restore the shop to its former glory or if that much miracling was even possible.
Whoever Aziraphale had managed to piss off, they had made sure to leave their mark on both the angel and the shop. What really worried Crowley, though, was that he wasn't sure if the attack was demonic or angelic in origin. He could feel no trace of either power. The entire shop was clean.
Aziraphale's body resembled a discarded child's toy. Slash marks, easily made by either claws or a sword, formed neat little rows on his arms, reminding Crowley of how Napoleon's soldiers used to fight. Crowley was sure he didn't want to lift up the angel's old mauve sweater (which Crowley remembered giving it to him about ten years ago and really wasn't surprised that the angel still had it) and could only guess at the damage done. Aziraphale's wings were out in the open, and from the looks of it, he had tried to escape by air, only to be grabbed by his wings and pulled back down. His wings resembled a cat's scratching post and Crowley knew it that while it wouldn't take long for the angel's wings were ready to support his weight again, he wasn't sure when Aziraphale was going to want to fly again.
"What did they do to you? Better yet, who did this to you?"
Aziraphale didn't answer, which really didn't surprise Crowley. The bruises around his neck assured Crowley that the angel wasn't going to be able to natter on for at least a week.
Crowley gently picked up the angel and started to carry him towards the bedroom above the store. Crowley then remembered that Aziraphale's bedroom could only be called a bedroom because of the fact it housed a bed and promptly turned around and headed towards his Bentley.
~~
Crowley had spent the last month in Brazil. He had stirred up feelings of discontent, all stemming from the fact that the Brazilians spoke Portuguese while the rest of South America spoke Spanish. It had been a particularly successful month in terms of tempting, but the demon had missed Aziraphale greatly. Tempting was just no fun without someone there to thwart you. And if said thwarter made an excellent bed warmer, then Crowley was all the more willing to allow a few potential sinners become saints.
Needless to say, coming home (or the continent that Crowley more or less considered home. It was more homely than his true home) to see Aziraphale and his beloved book shop torn apart was not the homecoming he expected. Crowley had called Aziraphale before leaving Brazil and the decidedly not-angelic tone of voice Aziraphale had been using made the demon all the more anxious to return. That particular tone of voice promised Crowley many, many good things.
And coming home to find both the angel and the shop in pieces drastically changed all of the plans Crowley had made.
~~
It was two days before Aziraphale awoke. Two long days in which Crowley watched his lover's body slowly begin the tedious healing process. After the first day, Aziraphale's human body had been healed, but Crowley knew, from personal experience, that the angel's true body would take at least another three days to heal. Crowley had been most saintly as he watched Aziraphale heal himself; he had washed the angel's face and made sure to never wander out of hearing distance if Aziraphale should wake up and need him.
Crowley had nearly nodded off when he noticed bright blue eyes staring at him. He quickly jumped out of the chair he had been sitting in and sat down on the bed. "Hey there, angel."
"Crowley? What am I doing in your apartment?" Aziraphale asked as he slowly sat up.
"I had to bring you here. Your shop was in ruins and I wasn't going to let you heal in that place you call a bedroom."
"That room really doesn't exist for you or me to sleep in, dear."
Crowley shrugged, not at all embarrassed. "What happened?"
Aziraphale looked at him. "What do you mean, Crowley?
Crowley pulled the angel into his arms. "Don't play cute, angel. What happened to you and your shop?"
Aziraphale looked at Crowley. "I'm not sure I'm ready to discuss this."
Crowley pulled all the knowledge he had of what late-night infomercial and television psychologists deemed the right thing to say. "The sooner you start telling me what happened, the better you'll feel. Trust me."
"Nipped that off a Friday night drama, didn't you?"
Crowley wasn't bothered by the snarky tone. It was nice to see the angel beginning to act like his normal self. "Aziraphale..."
Aziraphale huffed in response. He then sighed and Crowley knew he won. "The shop was closed and I was waiting for you to return from Brazil. I heard the bell above the door ring, and I thought it was you. I turned around and saw a demon I've never seen before."
Crowley went stiff. "You're sure it was a demon?"
"Unless angels have started wearing horns and using claws, then yes, I'm sure it was a demon."
"What happened to the demon?" Crowley's voice was very stable and flat, which worried the angel.
"It's dead, Crowley. That's the reason half the shop is in ruin... My books! My poor books. The.. cretin was destroying my books. That's how I knew it wasn't you. You know what happens when someone messes with my books."
Crowley at least looked sheepish, having irked the angel once or twice about his books before the Arrangement and most certainly before they started sleeping together. He remembered the fall of the Roman Empire well and he never wanted to see Aziraphale that vexed again. He prodded the angel with a finger to get Aziraphale to continue telling his story.
"The rest is history. I managed to destroy the fool, but not before he did a fair amount of damage to me and my shop."
"Why you, angel? We haven't been contacted since the near-Apocalypse."
"It was a lower-ranking demon. It probably wanted a good commendation on its record and figured I was easy prey. Crowley, do you have tea? I could go for a nice cup of Earl Gray."
Without even thinking, Crowley miracled a cup and handed it to Aziraphale. He watched him take slow sips and figured that his throat was still bothering him. When Aziraphale finished, Crowley set the cup on his nightstand. "Sleep, angel. You're still healing."
Aziraphale slowly lowered himself back into the bed, carefully tugging Crowley down with him. Aziraphale snuggled into his arms and allowed himself to rest.
Crowley smiled softly at the angel, giving him a once over before deeming it safe for him to sleep also.
~~
It was a week after Aziraphale woke up when he asked Crowley to take him to his books. Crowley had protested and tried to postpone the reunion of angel and ruined shop, but when Aziraphale softly kissed his cheek, Crowley knew the argument was lost. Besides, the plants were beginning to love the angelic presence in the flat and Crowley figured it would take at least a week to put the fear of, well, Crowley back into them. As Aziraphale stepped out of the Bentley (having not said one word to Crowley about his driving, which worried Crowley as he had made sure to break more laws than he normally did), his mouth formed a thin line. Aziraphale slowly walked into his shop and tried to not think about how many years of books had been destroyed. He started to think of what could be replaced or miracled before he saw a pile of words and kneeled down to see what they had come from. Crowley walked in as he began to kneel and tried to think of a sarcastic, witty comment to break Aziraphale out of his melancholy mood, but instead knelt down beside him, curious to see what book pieces caught his attention first.
"I want my shop back to normal. I want to fly again, Crowley." Aziraphale smiled sadly, picking up the pieces of his signed first edition of Jane Austen's Pride and the Prejudice.
Crowley fought back the immediate sarcastic remark and instead shrugged. "Then fly, angel. I'll be glad to help you, but ultimately, you're the one who has to piece back together your life."
~~
The last five days had been spent cleaning up the bookshop, both by miracling and by doing manual work. Aziraphale had decided to repaint the shop, and while the shop was not completely back to its original glory, it was well on its way to making a full recovery. Crowley knew that this night, however, would make or break the angel. He watched as Aziraphale carefully took flight. He waited until the angel was about fifty feet in the air before silently taking off and following him. He stayed a few feet behind, letting Aziraphale know he should do this by himself, but the demon would not let him do this task alone. Crowley was determined to be there in case the angel should fall. Aziraphale turned slowly to the demon and smiled. The smile reminded Crowley of the Aziraphale before the unprompted attack and Crowley felt his world shift back in to place.
Crowley felt himself smiling back. Aziraphale mouthed the words 'Thank you, my dear' before continuing to commune with the night sky, seemingly enjoying the feel of the wind through his wings. Crowley paused as he watched Aziraphale flutter through the night sky before going to see if he could engage the angel in some tag. It had been ages since they last played this particular form of tag.
Aziraphale still owed Crowley some mind-blowing sex, but as the demon flew to the angel, he figured that could wait until tomorrow.
~end~
Happy Holidays,
ineffable_angel from your Secret Writer!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-16 11:59 am (UTC)//Besides, the plants were beginning to love the angelic presence in the flat and Crowley figured it would take at least a week to put the fear of, well, Crowley back into them.///
LOL.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-16 09:14 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-17 02:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-17 04:41 am (UTC)*omgloves* Thank you, Secret Author! *does the dance of SQUEE AND UTTER GLEE*
I adored every sentence of this! Aziraphale's attitude to his books struck a chord... and makes me wonder to the identity of this author! I keep trying to find something to quote, but every time I try, I get sucked right back into the story! It's lovely.
*glomps* Thank you so very much, my Secret Author!
(I'm also ridiculously stupid and entered under my rpg name. I'm known as
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-17 02:11 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-17 05:56 am (UTC)This is really very cute. ^_^
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-17 02:10 pm (UTC)Or I realized the mistake after I sent it. Personally, I like the first reason.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-17 06:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-17 07:24 am (UTC)Mary
(no subject)
Date: 2005-12-17 02:09 pm (UTC)