DO something
Author: wanderingsmith
Started jul 2022
Summary: As the ground stabilized for a breath, Aziraphale let
himself drop to his own knees
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to
pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the toys, I
play with 'em..
Goto Chapter 2
Aziraphale tried to wrestle his own terror, glad his old training was at
least being up to the task of keeping him on his feet as the Earth tried to
shudder away from the Evil rising through it, even as his attention was
split between Shadwell's raving, and his awareness of Crowley, wisely still
on his knees rather than try to make those legs of his hold him up in this
madness, but his gaze searching madly, as though he expected his ultimate
boss to pop in, the way that Gabriel and Beelzebub had disappeared.
He was almost glad to end up a step in front of Crowley, facing him on his
knees. Glad their eyes caught in what could once again be their last
moments, even if Crowley looked tired and defeated, which was so very wrong
for the demon who always had such wonderful forward momentum, enough to pull
both of them through the long years. Well, except for the 14th
century. 1348 had simply been horrible.
"Right. That was that. It w's nice knowin' you."
Aziraphale shook his head, needing to reassure his friend, dimly wondering
if this was how Crowley had felt all those times when Aziraphale was the one
to feel defeated and lost. "We can't give up now."
Crowley's expression twisted, despair and anger wiping the defeat, at least;
Aziraphale knew just how much Crowley could accomplish with anger driving
him. "This is Satan himself. It isn't about Armageddon, this is
personal. We are *fucked*!"
The Earth shook again before he could answer that anguished shout, harsher
than ever, and Aziraphale's arms swung out for balance as the ground seemed
to vanish from under his feet, one after the other. He was terribly
grateful for the sudden lash of long fingers wrapping firmly around one of
his wrists.
As the ground stabilized for a breath, Aziraphale let himself drop to his
own knees, tugged by Crowley's grip as the demon stared at him with all the
anger replaced by fear.
Aziraphale barely stopped to think beyond the too-long-too-painfully-denied
need to care for his friend. Beyond the grief he saw in those tired
amber eyes, the despairing grip he felt on his wrist. So often they
had come this close and Aziraphale had forced himself to remain distant,
starving them both in the forlorn hope that it would keep them safer, keep
them able to meet again.
No more. He reached forward with his free hand and cupped Crowley's
dirty and ashy jaw, and kissed him, hard and open-mouthed and wanting to
scream with the frustration that it had to be like this and not somewhere
quiet and safe and *theirs*, where they could spend hours- But they
could not and Aziraphale felt his own anger and desperation rise at this
final unfairness, pulling back after a bare handful of ethereal heartbeats,
hearing a soft whine and tasting cheap whiskey on his tongue. He met
Crowley's shocked eyes with a firm look, full of his complete faith in this
soft-hearted demon, and spoke with every ounce of quiet fierceness ringing
through him.
"DO something."
Then he pushed himself back up onto his feet and flexed his fingers, barely
conscious of calling his old sword to his hand, never looking away from
Crowley's glowing yellow eyes as a wide grin grew on his lips. Oh yes,
that was so much better! Aziraphale had always loved to see his demon
happy, however he'd always had to bluster to hide it. And for all that
Crowley was very good at harnessing his anger to push through Aziraphale's
resistance, Aziraphale also knew that Crowley, deep down, loved proving
himself the hero by moving mountains; or at least theatre goers, French
executioners, and V1 bombs, to name but a few memorable little favours the
demon had presented an angel in need, given just the slightest
encouragement.
For a moment, Crowley's eyes closed, his teeth visibly gritting together
through the grin, and he hunched in, seeming to compress the very universe
into himself before Aziraphale's eager eyes, his long, soot-covered arms
held downward as though trying to grasp the root of the world.
And then he threw himself upright with a roar that echoed to the horizons,
flinging his hands to Heaven; and releasing such a wave of power that
Aziraphale felt admiration blaze through him.
And Aziraphale was suddenly... somewhere *else*. Somewhere without all
the weight of Earth, the thick air and the invisible pressures from Above
and Below. Without the noise of billions of minds thinking their
thoughts and feeling their unshielded feelings.
Without the heart of Hell pushing up through it.
All there was lapping at Aziraphale's soul, was Crowley's love, for once
without any other auras to obscure it. Without Crowley trying to veil it.
Aziraphale opened his eyes, not having realized he'd closed them at the
shock of sudden peace, and instinctively found Crowley's to share a smile as
his wings, as real in this place as the sword She had given him, rippled out
like the most satisfying neck-roll in the world.
Behind the glowing eyes and bright smile, he could see the tension in his
demon's jaw, and sensed the pressure against this stolen non-instant of time
Crowley had created. He could not hold this long, not against what was
coming after them. Aziraphale watched Crowley bring himself a pair of
glasses and finally followed his demon's gaze to the other creature in their
bubble. Stiffening himself back to the task.
Chapter two
jul 2022
Ever since Satan had taken himself, or gotten shoved, back to Hell after
Adam refused to consider him for the title of father, there had been an odd
little smile hidden in Crowley's expression. Not quite his usual air
of smirking amusement, or the gentler indulgence that he would no doubt deny
vociferously, if it were pointed out.
Not that Aziraphale didn't know very well what had, almost certainly, put it
there. Which is why, once he sat -collapsed- onto the bench by the
Tadfield bus stop, he was not quite as shocked to suddenly have a lap-full
of demon as he would have been on any other day.
"Crowley!" He was trying for a censorious scolding; they *were* in
public! But he couldn't stop his hands from curving around bony hips
in something that was most decidedly *not* throwing the wicked creature
off. There was a remote chance he might have even tugged until they
touched far too much for politeness, grateful for the lack of slats between
the seat and shoulder-rest of the bench. And for his serpent's
so-very-flexible long limbs that could take advantage of the design.
"Angel." The smile was no longer hiding. And though it had a
challenge threaded through it, it was mostly sweet. So sweet that
Aziraphale had to remind himself not to compliment his touchy demon; at
least not until they'd had time to get comfortable with each other.
*More* comfortable. The hands tunnelling through his hair as Crowley
rested his wrists on Aziraphale's shoulders were certainly.. quite
comfortable.
Aziraphale sighed, pretending to be put out by the liberties. But his
eyes were dragged down to lips that had been surprisingly soft under
his. Rough with dirt, and holding the taste of ash and all the burned
materials that his poor vehicle had been made of, but- he made himself look
back up as the smile curved wickedly under his gaze. And narrowed his
eyes at his reflection in dark lenses when there were no humans near.
"If it is acceptable for you to drape yourself so on me, it is certainly
safe for your lovely eyes to be exposed, my dear."
The smile dimmed a touch, but Aziraphale held his miffed expression until
Crowley brought a hand up to remove the offending item and leaned back to
slide them onto his shirt collar. "Satisfied?"
Aziraphale did not hold back his pleased smile. It was so very lovely
to feel free to admit he admired his demon, free to... embrace. He
could- *they* could... *embrace*. Or at least, neither of them would get in
any *more* trouble for it.
Crowley's shoulders relaxed as though he'd expected to have more demands,
and Aziraphale rippled his fingers, encouraging him to come even
closer. And then sighed as he did, somehow curling himself in until
they were wrapped so closely that air would have difficulty coming between
them, Crowley's arms so, *so* reassuringly tight around Aziraphale.
The warm breath on Aziraphale's neck a pleasure as great as at long last
holding fast to the bundle of bones and energy that had for so long orbited
safely around him. Grateful for that snakey grace that made it
possible for him to hold the lanky demon like this; to tip his head and
gently rub his cheek on the long stretch of neck. Breathe in brimstone
and cinnamon without having to hide or deny anything.
"Sorry. I should have snapped myself clean..."
Aziraphale squeezed his arms for a moment in response to the exhausted edge
to the words, "If it bothers you, I can-"
"Umm. Making a mess of you. You'll definitely want your clothes
cleaned."
Aziraphale's nose wrinkled at the thought, which had somehow escaped him up
to now, unable to help himself from whining ever so slightly, "You do it so
well..."
It was shockingly lovely to feel his friend's back shake under his hands as
Crowley laughed quietly; almost as lovely as feeling the puffs of air raise
chills on his neck.
They sat- hugged, quietly for long moments, the world settling around them
as it caught its breath after the day of madness.
"I expected you to still need convincing." The words were quiet.
Not quite uncertain, but the tension that had snuck back into the relaxed
frame curled around him made it clear enough it was far from a random
thought.
"I'm sorry," Aziraphale gave himself the time to organize his thoughts as he
slid his hands in long strokes up Crowley's back, between his jacket and
shirt, slightly hesitant at the liberty, but... the demon was stroking
Aziraphale with subtle twists of his whole body, surely this was no more
invasive. "I... should have trusted you. You were right about...
so many things," Shoulders rolled under his cheek, accompanying a muffled
grump, and Aziraphale took a shaky breath, trying to remind himself not to
use compliments, "After the mess I made... I..." he couldn't remember the
last time he'd hugged someone so for even the socially-expected
second. Felt another body's warmth settle into his own; comfort
shared. Oh, he would cheerfully face Armageddon again just to feel
this! He gave a gentle squeeze, "I'm trying to not second-guess
myself, to stop... stopping myself."
Crowley wrapped himself even closer, nuzzling into Aziraphale's neck, though
it felt more like he was trying to burrow in. He finally sighed
tiredly, "Been a hell of a week."
Aziraphale hummed, sliding a hand up until he could cup the demon's nape and
gently squeeze at the tension, "I would transport you to your bed, but I
don't know that I should drain my internal power without good reason.
I think I'll need to be as strong as possible to hold them all off, when
they decide to come after us."
Long fingers slid up into the hair above Aziraphale's nape, barely petting
and tugging, and making him want to purr. "Love you, angel."
Aziraphale's breath caught for a moment, his eyes closing as he clutched the
body in his arms. It took several more shaky breaths to find words on
his tongue, "And I you, my darling. So *very* much." He shivered
at the press of rough, dry lips under his ear.
As they sat holding each other silently, the night slowly filled with the
sounds of nature: crickets and a distant owl, even the faint sound of bats
flitting somewhere overhead. And Crowley just as slowly melted into
Aziraphale's lap until his head shifted on the angel's shoulder and suddenly
weighed several pounds, and Aziraphale smiled, helplessly fond, and turned
his own head to rub his cheek on that beautiful flame-coloured hair, however
filthy it was, right now..
He knew they were still in terrible danger, but... he had spent millennia
letting fear keep him from living. From allowing himself to offer any
comfort to his friend. Now... Heaven and Hell were assuming they'd
already been intimate. If they didn't come up with a miraculous way to
escape punishment... this could be their last night. Spending it
wrapped around each other was a pitiful reward for their years, but he
wasn't going to do anything to lessen it.
AN:https://www.history.co.uk/articles/what-was-the-worst-year-in-history
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