Happy Holidays, Ineffabili_Tea!
It's Magic
For: ineffabili_tea
Writer: A Secret!
Aziraphale/Crowley, PG13
Merry Christmas!
The medieval period could hardly be counted as one of Crowley’s favourite places in history. In truth, it wouldn’t even make the top ten, and that included the Tudors with their ‘smells before germs’ rule. For one, the stench reminded him back in hell when Ligur had chosen to go on his health kick and thought morning exercises teamed with raw Crowley-didn’t-want-to-know-what was a perfect accompaniment. By someone’s sake, the stench!
For another, they believed in witches and devils far more than the simple ideals of angels and demons. The first time he had miracled something up, had asked him if he was a ‘foul beast from the underworld, a fiery monster, gnarled and gruesome-torn.’
He wouldn’t admit it, but he had actually felt quite offended. You make an effort for these people, come down and offer them some special deals, buy now or forever hold your peace, and all they do is throw insults at you instead. It did give Crowley an idea for the future though, when technology could handle it. He would call it cold calls.
And the scandal over magic. What a ho-hah. Everyone got a little hysterical and decided to drown some other people who they pretended looked quite suspicious but actually wouldn’t go out with them, or charged too much for bread, or it had been a slow weekend and the rest of the village needed some entertainment. They tried it on him a couple of times and he would have protested more, but the looks they gave him when they pulled him back up and saw he was still breathing were classic.
That and the screams.
Which is why it made it all the more risky (never risqué unfortunately, Crowley could demon-handle him from behind and try to ravage him behind and Aziraphale probably wouldn’t notice anything was amiss) to keep an eye out for all those special cases, those humans with the little bit extra party tricks. What both sides were playing for. Something had gotten incomprehensibly wrong with timing and just when everyone’s got their hackles in a twist over magic, someone with a pretty dodgy sense of humour started giving unsuspecting mortals the power to do good. Or bad. The other demons were definitely all hoping for the latter, and Crowley couldn’t care either way.
So they were scouted. Touted. Sold to the highest bidder and gossiped about over the medieval equivalent of a good glass of wine. Which, as it turns out, is nothing like a good glass of wine, but Crowley could deal, for now. He was just about to celebrate another successful endeavour well done (Hastur had created something called the Black Plague, and Crowley had assisted. Well, Crowley had been there in the background, but it was totally supervision) when Aziraphale contacted him, using the words ‘urgent’ and ‘important.’ So he abandoned everything, while telling himself it was just intrigue and not looking forward to seeing the angel at all, oh no.
Which made it all the more irritating to find out Aziraphale had kept the news of his latest mission from him. Him, of all people. I mean sure, he was a demon, and working for the other side, and well-renowned for being a bit, well, slippery, but they really thought they had gotten over all of that by now. Adam and Eve was ages ago, and it was an easy enough mistake to make. Dooming the entire human race could’ve happened to anyone, he swore, and it wasn’t like Aziraphale was entirely blameless anyway.
“What is bothering you, Crowley?” Aziraphale questioned.
He didn’t know how to phrase it without sounding like a snotty five year old. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” he sniffed trying to sound indignant.
“I did hint,” Aziraphale added as they walked towards the home of the angelic forces’ newest recruit. Crowley wondered whether he should sulk. It would be quite the drop in dignity, but only a good ol’ fashioned strop would convey his annoyance at his thorough shunning. He wasn’t even really sure why he was so irritated Aziraphale had kept this from him really. It was clear to see that the angel had just been careful, hedging his bets, fighting against the enemy. It was what he would advise him to do for everyone else. Every other demon. But the fact that he’d done that to him…
Maybe it was that he hadn’t seen Aziraphale as some kind of eternal nemesis for so long now. And to think, the demons back down below had told him to ‘wait for the angel’s walls to fall.’ But no, he’d forgotten first and now they had to get back to business.
After a little bit of cautious sniping, of course.
“When?”
“St Crispin's Day, dear. Remember?”
Crowley looked aghast. “Remember? I was revelling!”
Aziraphale gave him a look that signalled revelling was just no excuse at all, and Crowley fell silent. Why was it the angel could make him feel bad with a single sign of disapproval? He was a demon, for Someone’s sake. Demons did a lot of things, but one they definitely included was revelling. It was practically the most important one of all, at the very least it was the one that interested Crowley the most.
“So, how have you managed to keep him alive all this time? And without any of my side from sticking their noses in, as well.”
There was a hint of sheepishness in Aziraphale’s expression, but Crowley didn’t care for hints, revelling or otherwise. He gave Aziraphale a look that said ‘spit it out, and make it good.’ He could give those kinds of looks back, after all.
“I may have done something a little bit silly.” It took a good few seconds of holding his tongue so Crowley didn’t have to say ‘So, what else is new?’
“Well, I thought with a little bit of help, they could fix things up for themselves. You know, a little bit of initiative. And the Prince did seem to go quite dotty over him, so with a little bit of motivation, you know the sort, who knows what they could try and do. Free will, after all, Crowley.”
“Oh angel. What have you done?”
*
“I thought it was leading everyone off the scent!” Aziraphale looked suitably abashed, but for Crowley that certainly wasn’t good enough. He wanted some kind of recompense, and thought Aziraphale deserved a good telling off, dragging him into all of this mess without telling him. Now they were going to be after him as well, and he didn’t deserve that. He wasn’t even involved this time. But he couldn’t help feeling that slightly bit on the slightly side of pleased that Aziraphale had asked him. Even though he was a demon on the wrong side of the dividing line and had Sauntered Gently Downwards where the parties were all night and the alcohol was never bring your own, Aziraphale had shunned all of his angelic chums for him.
Crowley made a mental note that going soft seemed to be quite easy, after all. Curses.
“Because angel magical flaming swords are such a deterrent for demons these days. I’m surprised I couldn’t sense it a mile away. How did you hand it over without someone below seeing, may I ask?”
“You may.” Aziraphale stopped and suddenly looked very interested in the dirt clod by their feet. At least, Crowley hoped it was just dirt. You never could tell, these days. “I didn’t hand it over personally, of course, that level of presence would have caused a bother, I quite agree. But there are, um, other ways and means, and there’s a lovely water-dweller who I owed a favour to who was quite willing to pass the weaponry on. So Arthur ended up with my flaming sword, so I hope he could protect the young wizard Merlin from harm‘s way. Demons and magic hunters and the like.”
His calm demeanour only served to rile Crowley further. How could he be so composed at a time like this? Why was it the only time he wanted contact with the demon was when he was about to unleash doom and destruction upon the world? It would be nice if once in a while, he contacted him just for, you know, a catch-up. Some kind of conversation and companionship instead of trying to save everything from going bottoms up? Maybe once, just once, they could come into contact with each other without trying to cover up the other or both’s mistakes. That would be the day.
Yes, definitely going soft.
“You always have to meddle, don’t you angel?”
“It was all going perfectly well.” Aziraphale was trying to put up a positive front now and both of them knew it. “ Until, well. There’s a slight…disturbance. And some of the humans may get caught in the crossfire. If the…disturbance gets out of hand and the wizard falls into the wrong hands…”
“Oh, for someone’s sake. So you only confided in me because you wanted help. I do have other things to do, you know. Important things. Very important demonic things. Causing havoc, disaster, a spot of corruption, that kind of thing. I might have gained hobbies since we last met- the arts, floristry. What if I just do not have time to save the day every time you need to drag someone up…down…wherever you’re going with you.” Arms folded, he nodded self-satisfactorily. Yes, that would do it. That would show the angel he couldn’t just click his fingers and have him at his beck and call every time, even though Crowley knew lying to yourself even on his degree was never going to work out. The angel was certainly under his skin, but it looked like it wasn’t both ways. He was just a liaison to the other side, the big bad demons.
When he turned to face Aziraphale again the angel was doing his best puppy dog expression, all desperate loyalty and mournful gloom, with that tiny bit of optimistic -please-please-please-you-know-I-need-you unyielding hope that he did so well. Bugger.
“Well, of course, I understand you’re a very busy…Crowley, Crowley. I quite understand that. And if of course you don’t think you need the extra bother, I’m sure I could, muddle through. It’s felt like such a while since we’ve met and I’ve quite missed your company and we do just make quite the team that I thought this time, just this once-”
Oh, he was so being played here. But Crowley felt like he couldn’t help being a sucker this instance, and gamely stood up to play his usual part while innerly kicking himself at just how far he’d gotten this time.
“Whatever. What’s happening this time?”
Aziraphale brightened. “Well, there’s this rather strange woman. One from your side, I’m afraid. Been behaving rather shiftily around the two and I’m afraid she’s going to become a risk to poor Merlin. Arthur is about to become a King, and he can’t be everywhere at once. I was wondering whether you could get into contact with her, warn her off or whatever it is your people do.”
“Strange woman?”
“Oh, yes. Calls herself Le Fay.”
“Oh, Morganna,” Crowley said in realisation, and although it was hard to tell through all the angelic ‘holier-than-thou’ business, he was pretty sure Aziraphale seemed…rattled by this.
“You know her?”
“Yes, sure. We had dinner once. Well, as close as you can get in this time period.”
“Oh.” Did Crowley detect a hint of something altogether unholy in Aziraphale’s voice just then? He peered at him slyly from below his eyelids. Still the same calm and composed Aziraphale, but there was something in his voice, some kind of edge…Was the angel jealous?!
“Only dinner.” He went on, making sure to watch the angel’s every movement for his own pleasure. And pleasure it was, seeing the other rattled by some kind of possession issues were definitely fun to witness.
“Only dinner.” Oh, yes. Aziraphale’s feathers were severely ruffled just then, which was even more ironic when you were trying to irritate an otherworldly being.
“Envy is one of the deadly sins, Aziraphale.” He was playing with fire and he knew it, but teasing the angel was just so close to enjoyable that he couldn’t stop himself. Aziraphale screwed his face up before composing himself into an expression of serene.
“I can’t think what you mean, Crowley. So what, pray tell, are you planning to do, other than presumably catch up with old chums of yours?”
“So what are we playing with here? One teenage boy with magic, another running around with a flaming sword, and a woman after them extremely on the wrong side of crazy. Have I missed anything out?”
Aziraphale shook his head, having the nerve to look apologetic.
“Well. Sounds like this could be interesting.”
“Interesting isn’t quite the word I’d use to describe it.”
“Always interesting, angel. Always.” He couldn’t help snaking up close to Aziraphale then, their bodily contact being a little too close for personal comfort but Crowley was loving it all the same. He expected Aziraphale to kick off then, move away, separate themselves in some way but he did nothing of the sort, and remained perfectly in position. Crowley wondered whether he was just frozen in fear and pulled back, but Aziraphale laid a hand on his shoulder, the fingertips gripping on tight, so much so he could feel the heat through the thin clothing. It could scar, the handprint burning into his skin and shoulder and why did all it sound just so intriguing?
Aziraphale was murmuring something under his breath but Crowley wasn’t concentrating on the words, listening hard onto the melody, feeling how close the angel was, against his arms, pressing on his nerves. He had always expected him to be cool to the touch, cold even, which was pretty stupid really. Nobody expected him to be fiery hot and have a pointed tail just because of what he was. But Aziraphale’s natural human figured heat came through, making both forget quite a few things, including where exactly they were, and what kind of perils the pair had been up against just a few minutes before.
Eventually Aziraphale’s voice came up loud enough for Crowley to hear, and he snorted when he finally cottoned onto what the other was saying.
“Very interesting, yes. I can see how this will be very interesting. ”
~end~
Happy Holidays, ineffabili_tea, from your Secret Writer!
For: ineffabili_tea
Writer: A Secret!
Aziraphale/Crowley, PG13
Merry Christmas!
The medieval period could hardly be counted as one of Crowley’s favourite places in history. In truth, it wouldn’t even make the top ten, and that included the Tudors with their ‘smells before germs’ rule. For one, the stench reminded him back in hell when Ligur had chosen to go on his health kick and thought morning exercises teamed with raw Crowley-didn’t-want-to-know-what was a perfect accompaniment. By someone’s sake, the stench!
For another, they believed in witches and devils far more than the simple ideals of angels and demons. The first time he had miracled something up, had asked him if he was a ‘foul beast from the underworld, a fiery monster, gnarled and gruesome-torn.’
He wouldn’t admit it, but he had actually felt quite offended. You make an effort for these people, come down and offer them some special deals, buy now or forever hold your peace, and all they do is throw insults at you instead. It did give Crowley an idea for the future though, when technology could handle it. He would call it cold calls.
And the scandal over magic. What a ho-hah. Everyone got a little hysterical and decided to drown some other people who they pretended looked quite suspicious but actually wouldn’t go out with them, or charged too much for bread, or it had been a slow weekend and the rest of the village needed some entertainment. They tried it on him a couple of times and he would have protested more, but the looks they gave him when they pulled him back up and saw he was still breathing were classic.
That and the screams.
Which is why it made it all the more risky (never risqué unfortunately, Crowley could demon-handle him from behind and try to ravage him behind and Aziraphale probably wouldn’t notice anything was amiss) to keep an eye out for all those special cases, those humans with the little bit extra party tricks. What both sides were playing for. Something had gotten incomprehensibly wrong with timing and just when everyone’s got their hackles in a twist over magic, someone with a pretty dodgy sense of humour started giving unsuspecting mortals the power to do good. Or bad. The other demons were definitely all hoping for the latter, and Crowley couldn’t care either way.
So they were scouted. Touted. Sold to the highest bidder and gossiped about over the medieval equivalent of a good glass of wine. Which, as it turns out, is nothing like a good glass of wine, but Crowley could deal, for now. He was just about to celebrate another successful endeavour well done (Hastur had created something called the Black Plague, and Crowley had assisted. Well, Crowley had been there in the background, but it was totally supervision) when Aziraphale contacted him, using the words ‘urgent’ and ‘important.’ So he abandoned everything, while telling himself it was just intrigue and not looking forward to seeing the angel at all, oh no.
Which made it all the more irritating to find out Aziraphale had kept the news of his latest mission from him. Him, of all people. I mean sure, he was a demon, and working for the other side, and well-renowned for being a bit, well, slippery, but they really thought they had gotten over all of that by now. Adam and Eve was ages ago, and it was an easy enough mistake to make. Dooming the entire human race could’ve happened to anyone, he swore, and it wasn’t like Aziraphale was entirely blameless anyway.
“What is bothering you, Crowley?” Aziraphale questioned.
He didn’t know how to phrase it without sounding like a snotty five year old. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” he sniffed trying to sound indignant.
“I did hint,” Aziraphale added as they walked towards the home of the angelic forces’ newest recruit. Crowley wondered whether he should sulk. It would be quite the drop in dignity, but only a good ol’ fashioned strop would convey his annoyance at his thorough shunning. He wasn’t even really sure why he was so irritated Aziraphale had kept this from him really. It was clear to see that the angel had just been careful, hedging his bets, fighting against the enemy. It was what he would advise him to do for everyone else. Every other demon. But the fact that he’d done that to him…
Maybe it was that he hadn’t seen Aziraphale as some kind of eternal nemesis for so long now. And to think, the demons back down below had told him to ‘wait for the angel’s walls to fall.’ But no, he’d forgotten first and now they had to get back to business.
After a little bit of cautious sniping, of course.
“When?”
“St Crispin's Day, dear. Remember?”
Crowley looked aghast. “Remember? I was revelling!”
Aziraphale gave him a look that signalled revelling was just no excuse at all, and Crowley fell silent. Why was it the angel could make him feel bad with a single sign of disapproval? He was a demon, for Someone’s sake. Demons did a lot of things, but one they definitely included was revelling. It was practically the most important one of all, at the very least it was the one that interested Crowley the most.
“So, how have you managed to keep him alive all this time? And without any of my side from sticking their noses in, as well.”
There was a hint of sheepishness in Aziraphale’s expression, but Crowley didn’t care for hints, revelling or otherwise. He gave Aziraphale a look that said ‘spit it out, and make it good.’ He could give those kinds of looks back, after all.
“I may have done something a little bit silly.” It took a good few seconds of holding his tongue so Crowley didn’t have to say ‘So, what else is new?’
“Well, I thought with a little bit of help, they could fix things up for themselves. You know, a little bit of initiative. And the Prince did seem to go quite dotty over him, so with a little bit of motivation, you know the sort, who knows what they could try and do. Free will, after all, Crowley.”
“Oh angel. What have you done?”
*
“I thought it was leading everyone off the scent!” Aziraphale looked suitably abashed, but for Crowley that certainly wasn’t good enough. He wanted some kind of recompense, and thought Aziraphale deserved a good telling off, dragging him into all of this mess without telling him. Now they were going to be after him as well, and he didn’t deserve that. He wasn’t even involved this time. But he couldn’t help feeling that slightly bit on the slightly side of pleased that Aziraphale had asked him. Even though he was a demon on the wrong side of the dividing line and had Sauntered Gently Downwards where the parties were all night and the alcohol was never bring your own, Aziraphale had shunned all of his angelic chums for him.
Crowley made a mental note that going soft seemed to be quite easy, after all. Curses.
“Because angel magical flaming swords are such a deterrent for demons these days. I’m surprised I couldn’t sense it a mile away. How did you hand it over without someone below seeing, may I ask?”
“You may.” Aziraphale stopped and suddenly looked very interested in the dirt clod by their feet. At least, Crowley hoped it was just dirt. You never could tell, these days. “I didn’t hand it over personally, of course, that level of presence would have caused a bother, I quite agree. But there are, um, other ways and means, and there’s a lovely water-dweller who I owed a favour to who was quite willing to pass the weaponry on. So Arthur ended up with my flaming sword, so I hope he could protect the young wizard Merlin from harm‘s way. Demons and magic hunters and the like.”
His calm demeanour only served to rile Crowley further. How could he be so composed at a time like this? Why was it the only time he wanted contact with the demon was when he was about to unleash doom and destruction upon the world? It would be nice if once in a while, he contacted him just for, you know, a catch-up. Some kind of conversation and companionship instead of trying to save everything from going bottoms up? Maybe once, just once, they could come into contact with each other without trying to cover up the other or both’s mistakes. That would be the day.
Yes, definitely going soft.
“You always have to meddle, don’t you angel?”
“It was all going perfectly well.” Aziraphale was trying to put up a positive front now and both of them knew it. “ Until, well. There’s a slight…disturbance. And some of the humans may get caught in the crossfire. If the…disturbance gets out of hand and the wizard falls into the wrong hands…”
“Oh, for someone’s sake. So you only confided in me because you wanted help. I do have other things to do, you know. Important things. Very important demonic things. Causing havoc, disaster, a spot of corruption, that kind of thing. I might have gained hobbies since we last met- the arts, floristry. What if I just do not have time to save the day every time you need to drag someone up…down…wherever you’re going with you.” Arms folded, he nodded self-satisfactorily. Yes, that would do it. That would show the angel he couldn’t just click his fingers and have him at his beck and call every time, even though Crowley knew lying to yourself even on his degree was never going to work out. The angel was certainly under his skin, but it looked like it wasn’t both ways. He was just a liaison to the other side, the big bad demons.
When he turned to face Aziraphale again the angel was doing his best puppy dog expression, all desperate loyalty and mournful gloom, with that tiny bit of optimistic -please-please-please-you-know-I-need-you unyielding hope that he did so well. Bugger.
“Well, of course, I understand you’re a very busy…Crowley, Crowley. I quite understand that. And if of course you don’t think you need the extra bother, I’m sure I could, muddle through. It’s felt like such a while since we’ve met and I’ve quite missed your company and we do just make quite the team that I thought this time, just this once-”
Oh, he was so being played here. But Crowley felt like he couldn’t help being a sucker this instance, and gamely stood up to play his usual part while innerly kicking himself at just how far he’d gotten this time.
“Whatever. What’s happening this time?”
Aziraphale brightened. “Well, there’s this rather strange woman. One from your side, I’m afraid. Been behaving rather shiftily around the two and I’m afraid she’s going to become a risk to poor Merlin. Arthur is about to become a King, and he can’t be everywhere at once. I was wondering whether you could get into contact with her, warn her off or whatever it is your people do.”
“Strange woman?”
“Oh, yes. Calls herself Le Fay.”
“Oh, Morganna,” Crowley said in realisation, and although it was hard to tell through all the angelic ‘holier-than-thou’ business, he was pretty sure Aziraphale seemed…rattled by this.
“You know her?”
“Yes, sure. We had dinner once. Well, as close as you can get in this time period.”
“Oh.” Did Crowley detect a hint of something altogether unholy in Aziraphale’s voice just then? He peered at him slyly from below his eyelids. Still the same calm and composed Aziraphale, but there was something in his voice, some kind of edge…Was the angel jealous?!
“Only dinner.” He went on, making sure to watch the angel’s every movement for his own pleasure. And pleasure it was, seeing the other rattled by some kind of possession issues were definitely fun to witness.
“Only dinner.” Oh, yes. Aziraphale’s feathers were severely ruffled just then, which was even more ironic when you were trying to irritate an otherworldly being.
“Envy is one of the deadly sins, Aziraphale.” He was playing with fire and he knew it, but teasing the angel was just so close to enjoyable that he couldn’t stop himself. Aziraphale screwed his face up before composing himself into an expression of serene.
“I can’t think what you mean, Crowley. So what, pray tell, are you planning to do, other than presumably catch up with old chums of yours?”
“So what are we playing with here? One teenage boy with magic, another running around with a flaming sword, and a woman after them extremely on the wrong side of crazy. Have I missed anything out?”
Aziraphale shook his head, having the nerve to look apologetic.
“Well. Sounds like this could be interesting.”
“Interesting isn’t quite the word I’d use to describe it.”
“Always interesting, angel. Always.” He couldn’t help snaking up close to Aziraphale then, their bodily contact being a little too close for personal comfort but Crowley was loving it all the same. He expected Aziraphale to kick off then, move away, separate themselves in some way but he did nothing of the sort, and remained perfectly in position. Crowley wondered whether he was just frozen in fear and pulled back, but Aziraphale laid a hand on his shoulder, the fingertips gripping on tight, so much so he could feel the heat through the thin clothing. It could scar, the handprint burning into his skin and shoulder and why did all it sound just so intriguing?
Aziraphale was murmuring something under his breath but Crowley wasn’t concentrating on the words, listening hard onto the melody, feeling how close the angel was, against his arms, pressing on his nerves. He had always expected him to be cool to the touch, cold even, which was pretty stupid really. Nobody expected him to be fiery hot and have a pointed tail just because of what he was. But Aziraphale’s natural human figured heat came through, making both forget quite a few things, including where exactly they were, and what kind of perils the pair had been up against just a few minutes before.
Eventually Aziraphale’s voice came up loud enough for Crowley to hear, and he snorted when he finally cottoned onto what the other was saying.
“Very interesting, yes. I can see how this will be very interesting. ”
~end~
Happy Holidays, ineffabili_tea, from your Secret Writer!