Happiest of Holidays, vzyali!
Title : Libri diligo
Author : todd_fan
Gift For : vzyali
Prompt : HERE
Paring : Aziraphale/Crowley
Rating : Light R
Word Count : 3,400
Summary : Aziraphale and Crowley run into each other in the Alexandria Library, an interesting situation ensues.
Notes : A BIG thanks to my beautiful and wonderful beta readers without whom I’d be lost. Happy holidays to vzyali, I picked an element of your prompt and ran with it. Hope you enjoy!
Egypt - 48 BC
Aziraphale loved the written word. It spoke to him in ways that nothing else did. Well...except the Word of God, of course. Unless it was a particularly interesting read, then the angel would guiltily admit that both were almost equal in his heart. He sometimes wondered if he should be troubled by that, if it were straying into the territory of petty materialism. He usually found that settling himself down with a good scroll worked wonders when that happened.
This was why he found himself strolling through the pillared halls of the Alexandria Library. He breathed in the scent of parchment and ink, smiling a smile of divine bliss that was undoubtedly spreading to the humans within the library that day. Well, they were readers, they deserved it, Aziraphale thought as he shifted the weight of his toga to a more comfortable position.
Though he technically wasn’t a Roman citizen, Aziraphale felt he wasn’t really breaking any rules with his clothing. After all, Gods kingdom was everywhere, which made him an honorary Roman citizen and therefore eligible to wear a toga. Perhaps it wasn’t the most steadfast of logic, but it made him feel better in indulging in a little fashion [1]. Besides, everyone in Egypt would be wearing these before long.
It was likely due to the angel’s delight at being in the library that he didn’t notice the other being until he’d walked right past him. The man wore a cucullus, keeping his facial features mostly in shadow. The library patrons assumed he was a traveller, and largely ignored his presence. The man tilted his head slightly in the angel’s direction, a flash of yellow flickering in the dark of the hood. Aziraphale stopped dead as the man turned a corner, vanishing from sight.
Well, fudge. Aziraphale let out a breath, before following the stranger, his hand sliding inside his toga, closing reassuringly around the hilt of a dagger. The angel turned the corner, facing an empty corridor. He slowed his steps as he walked through, narrowing his grey-blue his eyes as he watched the shadows thrown by the pillars, looking for any sign of movement.
“Well, if it isn’t Flaming Sword Boy,” drawled a voice from behind him when Aziraphale got halfway through the corridor.
The angel reacted instantly, turning and throwing the dagger towards the voice. The concealed man snapped his fingers, the dagger vanishing from existence before it could get within a foot near him. He shook his head, chuckling.
“Must we resort to this every time we run into each other?” he asked. “It’s getting rather old now, don’t you think?”
“Why are you following me, Serpent?” asked Aziraphale, refusing to answer the question [2].
Crowley smirked, sliding back the hood of his cucullus, serpentine eyes watching the angel in amusement. The demon had a new body now, Aziraphale noticed. The last time they met, the wound the angel had inflicted on him must have been fatal. And bugger it all if the smug git hadn’t gone and found himself a more attractive vessel. If he didn’t have to wear a hood to hide his eyes all the time, those cheekbones would have attracted quite a crowd, male and female alike. If the smug grin was anything to go by, Crowley was well aware of this fact.
“That’s a little vain, isn’t it?” asked Crowley, pulling Aziraphale out of his reverie. “Assuming I’ve come here to follow you. Did it ever occur to you that I might be here to enjoy the ambience myself? It’s a small world, after all.”
The demon paused.
“There’s a little ditty in there, somewhere.”
“...What?” Aziraphale stared at him.
“There could be little mechanical children,” Crowley mused to himself, before turning his head back towards Aziraphale. “Sorry. Where was I?”
“Slipping into insanity, I think,” replied Aziraphale, still staring at Crowley as if his head had fallen off. “Why are you here? Really?”
“I like to see humanity’s accomplishments too, you know,” said Crowley. “This place is beautifully...wicked.”
“Wicked?” Aziraphale asked, aghast. “It’s not wicked at all! This is a place for the true and pure pursuit of dispensing knowledge to the general populace!”
“Taking writing by force, oh yes, that is a true and pure pursuit of dispensing knowledge to the general populace if ever there was one”
“They give copies back to the owners,” said Aziraphale, a tad guiltily. “That’s not technically stealing.”
Crowley rolled his eyes, pulling out a scroll, opening it up and eyeing it critically.
“So, if I take this now, and leave behind a copy of it, you wouldn’t count that as stealing?”
“I...” Aziraphale hesitated. “Well, you wouldn’t use the scroll to educate the masses. So you wouldn’t really be putting it to good use.”
“But you still wouldn’t say I was stealing it?” Crowley persisted.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to do, demon,” said Aziraphale, narrowing his eyes and snatching the scroll away from Crowley. “But your trickery won’t work with me. Do you hear me?”
It seemed that Crowley actually didn’t hear him. His golden eyes were narrowed, his head tilted as if he were listening to something in the far distance. Aziraphale shook his head, annoyed, placing the scroll in its proper place and turning to walk back to the main part of the library. If the demon wasn’t even going to bother responding to him, then he saw no need to spend any more time in his company. Aziraphale only made it a few steps before Crowley caught his arm, stopping him, moving with all the speed of a snake.
“Oh?” the demon smirked. “Are you so certain that my trickery won’t work?”
“I...um” Aziraphale paused, blinking. “I’m afraid I feel I’m missing out on some sort of inside joke, here.”
Crowley’s smirk widened as he closed the gap between himself and the angel. Aziraphale, for his part, was still clueless as to what was happening until his back pressed up against the shelves, a few scrolls tumbling loose with the gentle bump.
“N...now look here...” he started.
“What?” Crowley chuckled. “You can’t tell me you’ve not made the effort. Not the way you show off with this fancy toga of yours.” The demon raised his eyebrows, “I’ve seen how the men look at you, and here’s me thinking it was my job to tempt.”
Aziraphale sucked in an unneeded breath and he realised exactly where the demon was trying to lead this conversation. He inwardly chided himself for letting the enemy get this close. He was in a vulnerable position, and Crowley could have easily discorporated him. And yet...he hadn’t. Crowley’s hand sliding across the material of his toga brought him out of his thoughts and solidly back into the present.
“We are not going to do this sort of thing in a library!” hissed Aziraphale, his eyes wide as he glanced around for anyone who might be listening to their conversation [3]. “In fact, we are not going to do this at all.”
“Come on, angel, where’s your sense of adventure?” Crowley almost purred as he stepped in closer.
“Here!” said Aziraphale, grabbing a scroll at random and holding it between him and the demon like some sort of barrier [4]. “This is a fascinating adventure, I’m sure. Reading is, you know. So why don’t you shoo and have yourself a wonderful reading adventure. There’s a good chap.”
Crowley chuckled, pushing the scroll away, stepping close to the angel, leaving barely a breath of air between them. Aziraphale closed his eyes, wondering what would happen if he wished the demon away.
“My sort of adventure is a lot more fun,” he said, a finger trailing along Aziraphale’s collarbone.
“Look, I really don’t think...”
Aziraphale’s argument was cut off as Crowley captured his lips in a fierce kiss. Invasive and sudden, it caught him off guard, even more so as the Serpent’s tongue came into play. He couldn’t even say he saw it coming. The demon’s actions certainly were sudden, but he supposed that was just how he was. He wouldn’t be Crowley if he were predictable; though it was clear the demon knew what he was doing.
Crowley didn’t have a clue what he was doing. He was the master of what would one day be termed as ‘winging it’, but it didn’t mean he had any set goal in mind. He only meant to distract the angel, it wasn’t his fault the only distracting things in this blessed place were scrolls and himself. At least he knew how he worked, which was more than he could say for some of the scrolls. Still, he had to admit, a part of him was enjoying this, and not just the part which attracted situations like this on a regular basis anyway. After all, Tempting, well, that was just business. And this wasn’t business. This was... well, it just was.
This was something incredible. Aziraphale found it mildly frightening, but exhilarating at the same time. He even surprised himself that after a few moments of Crowley going solo, he relented and tentatively returned the affections. Crowley pulled back in surprise, yellow eyes searching Aziraphale’s blue-grey ones, before he leaned back in, taking another kiss. This time the angel did not fight back.
[1] - This would be one of the very few times Aziraphale ever followed fashion. After the toga went out of fashion, he had a little trouble keeping up, making many fashion faux pas as the centuries went by. He was glad when the 1940’s gave him something to settle comfortably in.
[2] - This was mostly because he didn’t really know the answer himself anymore. This concerned him greatly, so sticking to the Rules seemed the best course of action.
[3] - A part of him hoped there was. After all, he could get in a lot of trouble Upstairs for this sort of thing. The other part of him which wished someone would interrupt them was the part of him which kept scrolls pristine and never, ever, EVER spilled ANYTHING on them.
[4] - Hundreds of years down the line, Crowley would joke that Aziraphale invented the “four foot rule” that day.
---
Aziraphale wasn’t sure how long they’d been there, not too long, obviously, but time seemed to take on different rules in this situation. Maybe that’s why the humans enjoyed it so much. There had been a lot of hot, open-mouthed kisses, leaving him breathless despite not needing to breathe.
The demon was good with his hands, too. They snaked under his toga, slipping past material to paw at bare skin, making the angel’s muscles twitch and jump. The experience was much like the demon himself, untamed and reckless, and more than a little dizzying. Crowley’s ministrations were having more of an effect on Aziraphale’s body than he’d have thought. His stomach felt twisted in knots ...things were happening in a place where nothing had happened before, not helped by whatever it was Crowley was doing. It involved grinding, and hips. Aziraphale was surprised to find he liked it, whatever it was. He briefly wondered how Crowley was keeping his balance so well.
It was in gasping a breath as Crowley did something very interesting with his tongue that Aziraphale realised something was wrong.
“Something’s burning,” said the angel, frowning.
“Well, I’m not one to brag, but I am rather good at this sort of thing,” replied Crowley, his mouth in close vicinity of Aziraphale’s neck, his teeth grazing up to nip gently at the angel’s jaw line.
Aziraphale resisted the urge to groan, biting his bottom lip, before gathering his remaining strength to push the demon off him.
“No, I can smell smoke. Something is definitely...”
“Here we go,” Crowley sighed, dusting himself off.
Smoke started to billow past them, rising to the ceiling, bringing with it the smell of ash and kindling. Distantly, yelling could be heard as the various staff and patrons of the library dashed around.
“The library is on fire!” gasped Aziraphale, turning to look at Crowley with wide-eyed fear. “We have to do something!”
“I’m sure the humans have got a good handle on it,” said Crowley, looking decidedly more guiltily than he had been a few moments ago. “Besides, I’m a demon; I don’t do things like that.”
Aziraphale caught the guilty expression and quickly came to the right conclusion.
“You...you knew this was going to happen.”
Crowley shrugged, keeping his gaze downward, not wanting to meet the angel’s expression.
“It was just a job,” he said levelly. “They’ll wonder forever who really caused it. Fingers being pointed everywhere, and so on.”
“Is this why you’re here?” asked Aziraphale, his eyes narrowing. “To distract me?”
Crowley set his jaw, his strong cheekbones becoming more prominent in the process, continuing to stare at the floor, refusing to answer. Aziraphale grabbed his arm swiftly, giving a sharp tug.
“Answer me!”
“Yes, I distracted you, all right?” Crowley snapped, turning to look at him, yellow eyes glowing slightly in anger. “What do you think would have happened if you’d have run into Hastur on your own? At least this way you’ve avoided getting your blessed head chopped off.”
“Hastur is doing this?” asked Aziraphale, letting go of the demon’s arm in disgust. “Duke Hastur?”
“He does love a good fire,” said Crowley, a little distantly.
“You still could have told me in advance,” Aziraphale felt the anger rise within him again, anger and...something else. Shame? Betrayal? He wasn’t sure. “We could have stopped him together, or got in early, removed the scrolls and the humans.”
“Notice you put the scrolls before the humans, angel,” said Crowley, shaking his head. “I told you, it was a job that needed to be done. I’ve risked enough keeping you from blundering into him in the first place. Someone knows why.”
“Why should you even care?” asked Aziraphale. “I’m the enemy, if you haven’t forgotten.”
The angel paused. He felt, deep down, he was trying to convince himself of something, there. He was a Soldier of God, it was his duty to fight and banish the demons which plagued mankind. And yet... he never really managed it with this one. There was something about Crowley which was inherently likable. Like some sort of lovable rogue, you knew he was no good for you, that he would lead you astray and very likely abandon you the second you got into deep trouble, and yet was enjoyable company. Was almost missed when he was absent.
Aziraphale knew it was part of the demon’s natural charm, of course. He was The Serpent, after all. The most subtle of all the beasts in the field. He was always going to be likable, that was how he convinced you into sinning. You knew it was wrong, but when he offered it to you, it seemed...well, not so bad. The metaphorical penny dropped as Aziraphale realised he’d taken the smallest of nibbles from the metaphorical apple [1].
“It’s hard to forget that sort of thing when you throw sharp objects at me every time we meet,” responded the demon.
“Then you could have told me to stay away,” the angel fought to keep his voice level, banishing the tremble which came from these newfound emotions surging through his system. “You didn’t have to...do that. Were you trying to Fell me?”
“No!” Crowley replied quickly. “Of course I wasn’t. I just...”
He sighed. He didn’t really know why he did it. That was the problem with being so blessed impulsive. He tended to act before he’d even partially thought things through. He could have easily have left the angel to it. Hastur would have found him and there would have been one less angel around to be a bother. And yet... he found he didn’t want this angel to be removed from the equation. He liked the angel being in the equation very much.
Aziraphale was the only being he’d met who came at least part way to understanding him. The other demons almost certainly didn’t get him, nor did he expect them to. But Aziraphale felt the same for humanity as he did, that they weren’t just little weights to add to either end of the existential scales. They were actually interesting and strange and ...well just a lot of fun to watch. So what if he enjoyed the angel’s company? [2] Was that such a crime?
“You just, what?”
Oh. Right. Crowley looked up from his thoughts to see Aziraphale, arms crossed, foot tapping. It would be almost comical if the angel didn’t look inches away from smiting him. Crowley sighed; it was no use trying to put it into words. He couldn’t and wouldn’t let his barriers down that much. Not yet. He fixed his eyes straight ahead, no longer focusing on the angel.
“Nothing,” he replied, pulling his hood back over his head.
Aziraphale watched as the demon retreated, vanishing in the smoke and chaos.
“You and I shall cross paths again, Demon!” shouted the angel after him, then added, a little redundantly; “And you’re not a very nice person!”
If Crowley heard him, he made no sign of it. Aziraphale frowned, looking at the nearest scrolls. Well, there was no need for everything to burn down. He reached up, grabbing as many as he could carry before making his exit. He may actually have a place for them, someday.
[1] - Of course, it could be considered the literal apple, too, judging by what the humans thought Original Sin was. But Aziraphale and Crowley knew otherwise on that subject.
[2] - When they weren’t trying to kill each other, at any rate.
--
Egypt - 2005
Of course, Aziraphale and Crowley’s paths did cross again and they eventually became sort-of friends. The incident in the library was recognised as something Not To Be Spoken Of. In the next millennia, they made an Arrangement. Things carried on from there, an Apocalypse was averted and they carried on their existence a little more confused about the world than they originally were. It was a good long time before they returned to Egypt as a pair.
Aziraphale stared up at the new building which he’d dragged Crowley to. He wasn’t very impressed with the look of the thing; but humanity felt that the greatest library to ever exist needed to exist in another form, and he couldn’t really argue with that. He’d been filling Crowley in on the building’s development, and the doubts of Egypt sustaining such a collection in this day and age. Crowley, for his part, tilted his head to one side, allowing Aziraphale to drone on.
“It’s good that they’ve honoured this site, but perhaps they should have not taken such a modern approach,” continued the angel, not noticing. “But that’s just the way of things, I suppose. Look what they did to South Bank.”
“It looks like a waffle iron,” interrupted Crowley, his head still tilted.
“It...what?” Aziraphale blinked.
“It looks like a waffle iron,” repeated Crowley, then added, for his companion’s benefit; “That’s sort of like a toaster, but for making waffles.”
“I know what a waffle iron is, Crowley,” said Aziraphale, rolling his eyes. “I just fail to see how this building looks like one.”
“It’s got the...” Crowley waggled his fingers. “Thingies, on the top. That make the little squares.”
Aziraphale stared at the building for a few moments, and then turned to look at Crowley. After a while, he repeated the process.
“It’s a little early to be drinking, dear.”
“I’m not drunk,” protested Crowley, before giving it up as a lost cause and shrugging. “Never mind, do you want to go inside? I mean, we’ve come all this way.”
“I suppose,” Aziraphale sighed, turning his attention to the building once more. “I do hope this won’t bastardise my memories of the original.”
“You can just make new ones, then,” said Crowley, giving a sly smirk which promised endless wickedness between the stacks. “I hear they have a planetarium in there. We should give it a...trial run, so to speak.”
And without another word, the demon sauntered off towards the entrance. Aziraphale stared at his retreating form for a few moments, before coughing, his face reddening as the bustled after the demon. Perhaps this library could be as interesting as its predecessor.
THE END.
Author : todd_fan
Gift For : vzyali
Prompt : HERE
Paring : Aziraphale/Crowley
Rating : Light R
Word Count : 3,400
Summary : Aziraphale and Crowley run into each other in the Alexandria Library, an interesting situation ensues.
Notes : A BIG thanks to my beautiful and wonderful beta readers without whom I’d be lost. Happy holidays to vzyali, I picked an element of your prompt and ran with it. Hope you enjoy!
Egypt - 48 BC
Aziraphale loved the written word. It spoke to him in ways that nothing else did. Well...except the Word of God, of course. Unless it was a particularly interesting read, then the angel would guiltily admit that both were almost equal in his heart. He sometimes wondered if he should be troubled by that, if it were straying into the territory of petty materialism. He usually found that settling himself down with a good scroll worked wonders when that happened.
This was why he found himself strolling through the pillared halls of the Alexandria Library. He breathed in the scent of parchment and ink, smiling a smile of divine bliss that was undoubtedly spreading to the humans within the library that day. Well, they were readers, they deserved it, Aziraphale thought as he shifted the weight of his toga to a more comfortable position.
Though he technically wasn’t a Roman citizen, Aziraphale felt he wasn’t really breaking any rules with his clothing. After all, Gods kingdom was everywhere, which made him an honorary Roman citizen and therefore eligible to wear a toga. Perhaps it wasn’t the most steadfast of logic, but it made him feel better in indulging in a little fashion [1]. Besides, everyone in Egypt would be wearing these before long.
It was likely due to the angel’s delight at being in the library that he didn’t notice the other being until he’d walked right past him. The man wore a cucullus, keeping his facial features mostly in shadow. The library patrons assumed he was a traveller, and largely ignored his presence. The man tilted his head slightly in the angel’s direction, a flash of yellow flickering in the dark of the hood. Aziraphale stopped dead as the man turned a corner, vanishing from sight.
Well, fudge. Aziraphale let out a breath, before following the stranger, his hand sliding inside his toga, closing reassuringly around the hilt of a dagger. The angel turned the corner, facing an empty corridor. He slowed his steps as he walked through, narrowing his grey-blue his eyes as he watched the shadows thrown by the pillars, looking for any sign of movement.
“Well, if it isn’t Flaming Sword Boy,” drawled a voice from behind him when Aziraphale got halfway through the corridor.
The angel reacted instantly, turning and throwing the dagger towards the voice. The concealed man snapped his fingers, the dagger vanishing from existence before it could get within a foot near him. He shook his head, chuckling.
“Must we resort to this every time we run into each other?” he asked. “It’s getting rather old now, don’t you think?”
“Why are you following me, Serpent?” asked Aziraphale, refusing to answer the question [2].
Crowley smirked, sliding back the hood of his cucullus, serpentine eyes watching the angel in amusement. The demon had a new body now, Aziraphale noticed. The last time they met, the wound the angel had inflicted on him must have been fatal. And bugger it all if the smug git hadn’t gone and found himself a more attractive vessel. If he didn’t have to wear a hood to hide his eyes all the time, those cheekbones would have attracted quite a crowd, male and female alike. If the smug grin was anything to go by, Crowley was well aware of this fact.
“That’s a little vain, isn’t it?” asked Crowley, pulling Aziraphale out of his reverie. “Assuming I’ve come here to follow you. Did it ever occur to you that I might be here to enjoy the ambience myself? It’s a small world, after all.”
The demon paused.
“There’s a little ditty in there, somewhere.”
“...What?” Aziraphale stared at him.
“There could be little mechanical children,” Crowley mused to himself, before turning his head back towards Aziraphale. “Sorry. Where was I?”
“Slipping into insanity, I think,” replied Aziraphale, still staring at Crowley as if his head had fallen off. “Why are you here? Really?”
“I like to see humanity’s accomplishments too, you know,” said Crowley. “This place is beautifully...wicked.”
“Wicked?” Aziraphale asked, aghast. “It’s not wicked at all! This is a place for the true and pure pursuit of dispensing knowledge to the general populace!”
“Taking writing by force, oh yes, that is a true and pure pursuit of dispensing knowledge to the general populace if ever there was one”
“They give copies back to the owners,” said Aziraphale, a tad guiltily. “That’s not technically stealing.”
Crowley rolled his eyes, pulling out a scroll, opening it up and eyeing it critically.
“So, if I take this now, and leave behind a copy of it, you wouldn’t count that as stealing?”
“I...” Aziraphale hesitated. “Well, you wouldn’t use the scroll to educate the masses. So you wouldn’t really be putting it to good use.”
“But you still wouldn’t say I was stealing it?” Crowley persisted.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to do, demon,” said Aziraphale, narrowing his eyes and snatching the scroll away from Crowley. “But your trickery won’t work with me. Do you hear me?”
It seemed that Crowley actually didn’t hear him. His golden eyes were narrowed, his head tilted as if he were listening to something in the far distance. Aziraphale shook his head, annoyed, placing the scroll in its proper place and turning to walk back to the main part of the library. If the demon wasn’t even going to bother responding to him, then he saw no need to spend any more time in his company. Aziraphale only made it a few steps before Crowley caught his arm, stopping him, moving with all the speed of a snake.
“Oh?” the demon smirked. “Are you so certain that my trickery won’t work?”
“I...um” Aziraphale paused, blinking. “I’m afraid I feel I’m missing out on some sort of inside joke, here.”
Crowley’s smirk widened as he closed the gap between himself and the angel. Aziraphale, for his part, was still clueless as to what was happening until his back pressed up against the shelves, a few scrolls tumbling loose with the gentle bump.
“N...now look here...” he started.
“What?” Crowley chuckled. “You can’t tell me you’ve not made the effort. Not the way you show off with this fancy toga of yours.” The demon raised his eyebrows, “I’ve seen how the men look at you, and here’s me thinking it was my job to tempt.”
Aziraphale sucked in an unneeded breath and he realised exactly where the demon was trying to lead this conversation. He inwardly chided himself for letting the enemy get this close. He was in a vulnerable position, and Crowley could have easily discorporated him. And yet...he hadn’t. Crowley’s hand sliding across the material of his toga brought him out of his thoughts and solidly back into the present.
“We are not going to do this sort of thing in a library!” hissed Aziraphale, his eyes wide as he glanced around for anyone who might be listening to their conversation [3]. “In fact, we are not going to do this at all.”
“Come on, angel, where’s your sense of adventure?” Crowley almost purred as he stepped in closer.
“Here!” said Aziraphale, grabbing a scroll at random and holding it between him and the demon like some sort of barrier [4]. “This is a fascinating adventure, I’m sure. Reading is, you know. So why don’t you shoo and have yourself a wonderful reading adventure. There’s a good chap.”
Crowley chuckled, pushing the scroll away, stepping close to the angel, leaving barely a breath of air between them. Aziraphale closed his eyes, wondering what would happen if he wished the demon away.
“My sort of adventure is a lot more fun,” he said, a finger trailing along Aziraphale’s collarbone.
“Look, I really don’t think...”
Aziraphale’s argument was cut off as Crowley captured his lips in a fierce kiss. Invasive and sudden, it caught him off guard, even more so as the Serpent’s tongue came into play. He couldn’t even say he saw it coming. The demon’s actions certainly were sudden, but he supposed that was just how he was. He wouldn’t be Crowley if he were predictable; though it was clear the demon knew what he was doing.
Crowley didn’t have a clue what he was doing. He was the master of what would one day be termed as ‘winging it’, but it didn’t mean he had any set goal in mind. He only meant to distract the angel, it wasn’t his fault the only distracting things in this blessed place were scrolls and himself. At least he knew how he worked, which was more than he could say for some of the scrolls. Still, he had to admit, a part of him was enjoying this, and not just the part which attracted situations like this on a regular basis anyway. After all, Tempting, well, that was just business. And this wasn’t business. This was... well, it just was.
This was something incredible. Aziraphale found it mildly frightening, but exhilarating at the same time. He even surprised himself that after a few moments of Crowley going solo, he relented and tentatively returned the affections. Crowley pulled back in surprise, yellow eyes searching Aziraphale’s blue-grey ones, before he leaned back in, taking another kiss. This time the angel did not fight back.
[1] - This would be one of the very few times Aziraphale ever followed fashion. After the toga went out of fashion, he had a little trouble keeping up, making many fashion faux pas as the centuries went by. He was glad when the 1940’s gave him something to settle comfortably in.
[2] - This was mostly because he didn’t really know the answer himself anymore. This concerned him greatly, so sticking to the Rules seemed the best course of action.
[3] - A part of him hoped there was. After all, he could get in a lot of trouble Upstairs for this sort of thing. The other part of him which wished someone would interrupt them was the part of him which kept scrolls pristine and never, ever, EVER spilled ANYTHING on them.
[4] - Hundreds of years down the line, Crowley would joke that Aziraphale invented the “four foot rule” that day.
---
Aziraphale wasn’t sure how long they’d been there, not too long, obviously, but time seemed to take on different rules in this situation. Maybe that’s why the humans enjoyed it so much. There had been a lot of hot, open-mouthed kisses, leaving him breathless despite not needing to breathe.
The demon was good with his hands, too. They snaked under his toga, slipping past material to paw at bare skin, making the angel’s muscles twitch and jump. The experience was much like the demon himself, untamed and reckless, and more than a little dizzying. Crowley’s ministrations were having more of an effect on Aziraphale’s body than he’d have thought. His stomach felt twisted in knots ...things were happening in a place where nothing had happened before, not helped by whatever it was Crowley was doing. It involved grinding, and hips. Aziraphale was surprised to find he liked it, whatever it was. He briefly wondered how Crowley was keeping his balance so well.
It was in gasping a breath as Crowley did something very interesting with his tongue that Aziraphale realised something was wrong.
“Something’s burning,” said the angel, frowning.
“Well, I’m not one to brag, but I am rather good at this sort of thing,” replied Crowley, his mouth in close vicinity of Aziraphale’s neck, his teeth grazing up to nip gently at the angel’s jaw line.
Aziraphale resisted the urge to groan, biting his bottom lip, before gathering his remaining strength to push the demon off him.
“No, I can smell smoke. Something is definitely...”
“Here we go,” Crowley sighed, dusting himself off.
Smoke started to billow past them, rising to the ceiling, bringing with it the smell of ash and kindling. Distantly, yelling could be heard as the various staff and patrons of the library dashed around.
“The library is on fire!” gasped Aziraphale, turning to look at Crowley with wide-eyed fear. “We have to do something!”
“I’m sure the humans have got a good handle on it,” said Crowley, looking decidedly more guiltily than he had been a few moments ago. “Besides, I’m a demon; I don’t do things like that.”
Aziraphale caught the guilty expression and quickly came to the right conclusion.
“You...you knew this was going to happen.”
Crowley shrugged, keeping his gaze downward, not wanting to meet the angel’s expression.
“It was just a job,” he said levelly. “They’ll wonder forever who really caused it. Fingers being pointed everywhere, and so on.”
“Is this why you’re here?” asked Aziraphale, his eyes narrowing. “To distract me?”
Crowley set his jaw, his strong cheekbones becoming more prominent in the process, continuing to stare at the floor, refusing to answer. Aziraphale grabbed his arm swiftly, giving a sharp tug.
“Answer me!”
“Yes, I distracted you, all right?” Crowley snapped, turning to look at him, yellow eyes glowing slightly in anger. “What do you think would have happened if you’d have run into Hastur on your own? At least this way you’ve avoided getting your blessed head chopped off.”
“Hastur is doing this?” asked Aziraphale, letting go of the demon’s arm in disgust. “Duke Hastur?”
“He does love a good fire,” said Crowley, a little distantly.
“You still could have told me in advance,” Aziraphale felt the anger rise within him again, anger and...something else. Shame? Betrayal? He wasn’t sure. “We could have stopped him together, or got in early, removed the scrolls and the humans.”
“Notice you put the scrolls before the humans, angel,” said Crowley, shaking his head. “I told you, it was a job that needed to be done. I’ve risked enough keeping you from blundering into him in the first place. Someone knows why.”
“Why should you even care?” asked Aziraphale. “I’m the enemy, if you haven’t forgotten.”
The angel paused. He felt, deep down, he was trying to convince himself of something, there. He was a Soldier of God, it was his duty to fight and banish the demons which plagued mankind. And yet... he never really managed it with this one. There was something about Crowley which was inherently likable. Like some sort of lovable rogue, you knew he was no good for you, that he would lead you astray and very likely abandon you the second you got into deep trouble, and yet was enjoyable company. Was almost missed when he was absent.
Aziraphale knew it was part of the demon’s natural charm, of course. He was The Serpent, after all. The most subtle of all the beasts in the field. He was always going to be likable, that was how he convinced you into sinning. You knew it was wrong, but when he offered it to you, it seemed...well, not so bad. The metaphorical penny dropped as Aziraphale realised he’d taken the smallest of nibbles from the metaphorical apple [1].
“It’s hard to forget that sort of thing when you throw sharp objects at me every time we meet,” responded the demon.
“Then you could have told me to stay away,” the angel fought to keep his voice level, banishing the tremble which came from these newfound emotions surging through his system. “You didn’t have to...do that. Were you trying to Fell me?”
“No!” Crowley replied quickly. “Of course I wasn’t. I just...”
He sighed. He didn’t really know why he did it. That was the problem with being so blessed impulsive. He tended to act before he’d even partially thought things through. He could have easily have left the angel to it. Hastur would have found him and there would have been one less angel around to be a bother. And yet... he found he didn’t want this angel to be removed from the equation. He liked the angel being in the equation very much.
Aziraphale was the only being he’d met who came at least part way to understanding him. The other demons almost certainly didn’t get him, nor did he expect them to. But Aziraphale felt the same for humanity as he did, that they weren’t just little weights to add to either end of the existential scales. They were actually interesting and strange and ...well just a lot of fun to watch. So what if he enjoyed the angel’s company? [2] Was that such a crime?
“You just, what?”
Oh. Right. Crowley looked up from his thoughts to see Aziraphale, arms crossed, foot tapping. It would be almost comical if the angel didn’t look inches away from smiting him. Crowley sighed; it was no use trying to put it into words. He couldn’t and wouldn’t let his barriers down that much. Not yet. He fixed his eyes straight ahead, no longer focusing on the angel.
“Nothing,” he replied, pulling his hood back over his head.
Aziraphale watched as the demon retreated, vanishing in the smoke and chaos.
“You and I shall cross paths again, Demon!” shouted the angel after him, then added, a little redundantly; “And you’re not a very nice person!”
If Crowley heard him, he made no sign of it. Aziraphale frowned, looking at the nearest scrolls. Well, there was no need for everything to burn down. He reached up, grabbing as many as he could carry before making his exit. He may actually have a place for them, someday.
[1] - Of course, it could be considered the literal apple, too, judging by what the humans thought Original Sin was. But Aziraphale and Crowley knew otherwise on that subject.
[2] - When they weren’t trying to kill each other, at any rate.
--
Egypt - 2005
Of course, Aziraphale and Crowley’s paths did cross again and they eventually became sort-of friends. The incident in the library was recognised as something Not To Be Spoken Of. In the next millennia, they made an Arrangement. Things carried on from there, an Apocalypse was averted and they carried on their existence a little more confused about the world than they originally were. It was a good long time before they returned to Egypt as a pair.
Aziraphale stared up at the new building which he’d dragged Crowley to. He wasn’t very impressed with the look of the thing; but humanity felt that the greatest library to ever exist needed to exist in another form, and he couldn’t really argue with that. He’d been filling Crowley in on the building’s development, and the doubts of Egypt sustaining such a collection in this day and age. Crowley, for his part, tilted his head to one side, allowing Aziraphale to drone on.
“It’s good that they’ve honoured this site, but perhaps they should have not taken such a modern approach,” continued the angel, not noticing. “But that’s just the way of things, I suppose. Look what they did to South Bank.”
“It looks like a waffle iron,” interrupted Crowley, his head still tilted.
“It...what?” Aziraphale blinked.
“It looks like a waffle iron,” repeated Crowley, then added, for his companion’s benefit; “That’s sort of like a toaster, but for making waffles.”
“I know what a waffle iron is, Crowley,” said Aziraphale, rolling his eyes. “I just fail to see how this building looks like one.”
“It’s got the...” Crowley waggled his fingers. “Thingies, on the top. That make the little squares.”
Aziraphale stared at the building for a few moments, and then turned to look at Crowley. After a while, he repeated the process.
“It’s a little early to be drinking, dear.”
“I’m not drunk,” protested Crowley, before giving it up as a lost cause and shrugging. “Never mind, do you want to go inside? I mean, we’ve come all this way.”
“I suppose,” Aziraphale sighed, turning his attention to the building once more. “I do hope this won’t bastardise my memories of the original.”
“You can just make new ones, then,” said Crowley, giving a sly smirk which promised endless wickedness between the stacks. “I hear they have a planetarium in there. We should give it a...trial run, so to speak.”
And without another word, the demon sauntered off towards the entrance. Aziraphale stared at his retreating form for a few moments, before coughing, his face reddening as the bustled after the demon. Perhaps this library could be as interesting as its predecessor.
THE END.