Happy Holidays, musegaarid!
Title: Twelve Days of Christmas
Gift for: musegaarid
Author: oddsbobs
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Gabriel/Crowley, Aziraphale, Adam, DEATH
Summary: “Gabriel was leaving in four days, Aziraphale kept telling himself. Surely that didn’t give Crowley enough time to do anything untoward.”
Author’s Notes: Merry Christmas, musegaarid! I’m… uncertain about my characterization of Gabriel, so I wound up centering much of the fic on Aziraphale and Crowley’s friendship. Hope you enjoy!
1.
There had been a time, Aziraphale remembered, that an angel could get a chance to rest between periods of excitement. He missed those days. Adventures were all well and good, but nothing was better than a warm cup of tea and a quiet evening of reading. Ever since the day the world didn’t really end, however, Aziraphale had not gotten a chance to relax. The most recent excitement involved a very angry angel in his bookshop - an angel that wasn’t him.
Gabriel was ostensibly on vacation. He had arrived at Aziraphale’s bookshop that morning unannounced with a letter from Above giving strict orders to make him as comfortable as possible. It hadn’t taken long for Aziraphale to realize that Heaven had an ulterior motive; those in charge had finally recognized just how out of touch they were with the humans of today. Adam’s entirely human logic had stymied the heavenly host. Gabriel’s ‘vacation’ was probably the first step of many to rectify the problem.
Like a good little servant of God, Aziraphale had gladly readied himself for twelve days of nonstop questions about the world and the strange ways of the people inhabiting it. He hadn’t planned for Crowley to come wandering into the store around noon with an invitation to lunch.
The angel didn’t have time to blink before Gabriel had pinned Crowley to the wall.
Aziraphale tugged ineffectively at Gabriel’s robes. “Stop it! You don’t know what you’re doing!”
Crowley flailed his arms about, hitting Gabriel on the side of his head but also clipping Aziraphale’s chin. The blow only gave Crowley a moment, however. Before the demon could flee, Gabriel brought a Dagger of Righteousness1 out from nowhere. Crowley was held to the wall with one arm while Aziraphale held back the hand holding the blade. For a being that didn’t really require breathing and therefore couldn’t really be choked, Crowley was turning an interesting shade of red.
“Gabriel!” Aziraphale shouted. By some miracle, he was finally able to wrench the other angel off Crowley. The demon slid to the ground, stunned.
“Stand down, angel - or feel the wrath of God placed upon your own brow! This demon must be thrown back to the depths of sin from whence he came.”
“This demon is my frie - I mean - he helped stop the Apocalypse!”
This gave Gabriel a pause. As with most large institutions and all national governments, Heaven had ignored their failure That Day for many weeks before convincing themselves that it was their Plan all along.2
“The serpent has repented and joined the army of God?” The shocked look on Gabriel’s face would have been comical if the situation hadn’t been so volatile.
“Yes!” Aziraphale cried desperately, covering Crowley’s indignant sputters.
Gabriel looked from the panicked angel to the glowering demon. He tugged lightly at one of his golden curls and chewed his bottom lip as he thought. He turned and left the room.
Crowley rose unsteadily from the floor. “Does this mean I’m not about to be rent in twain?” he muttered.
“Are you alright, Crowley?” Aziraphale rushed to the side of the demon.
“I’m fine - I’m ok. It’s just been a while since - like that - with the smiting. Yes.” He straightened his already immaculate suit with slightly shaking hands.
“You’ve gone soft, my dear,” Aziraphale chuckled. A few centuries ago, Crowley would have taken an attempted smiting in stride. To his confusion, Crowley blushed.
“Ehem. Uh. No. Not quite.”
1. Smaller and less cumbersome than a flaming sword, the Dagger of Righteousness emits a heavenly glow just as powerful as wrathful fire, but without the smoke: the perfect gift for the angel on the go. Find the Dagger of Righteousness at any Burning Bush locations, or ask your Guardian Angel union representative for details.
2. And Lo, the host of angels gathered upon the Earth, and came from their lips the praises of the Lord, and their hands raised in supplication and wonder. Satan’s horde beheld these glories and trembled before His might. So shall the world know the boundless mercy of the Heavenly Father, so shall the people of the Earth be spared.
2.
It was Gabriel’s idea to invite Crowley over for tea the next day - supposedly to apologize. However, it was Aziraphale who probably felt the most awkward. The conversation was a bit stilted between the three of them. After all, there weren’t many subjects Crowley and Gabriel would be able to discuss without dissolving into an argument.
Gabriel tended to stare at Crowley like he was a particularly unpleasant pest, his eyebrows drawn in confusion at how a demon was voluntarily sipping tea with two angels.
Crowley was staring right back with an expression of polite interest. At first Aziraphale thought his counterpart was merely studying the differences between the two angels. As the afternoon wore on, however, he noticed the calculating looks given over the tops of Crowley’s sunglasses and had the bad feeling that the demon was actually getting Ideas.
Sinful ideas that centered on Gabriel.
3.
Much to Aziraphale’s surprise, Gabriel insisted that Crowley accompany them around London the next day. He said he wanted to learn about the human plight and how they dealt with infernal interference on top of their own stupidity.
“He is rather nice to look at, don’t you think?” Gabriel suddenly confided to Aziraphale while Crowley was subtly directing the crowd of holiday shoppers into a chaotic and stressful traffic pattern. “Quite an improvement on that serpent facade.”
The feeling of dread in Aziraphale’s stomach intensified. He gathered his thoughts while he kept a woman weighed down with shopping bags from walking straight into a man equally burdened. “I suppose so. I’ve never really looked at him that way, though. Ever since that one week in Rome, I can only picture him… Well, when one sees one’s acquaintance like that, it really is rather hard to forget.”
“Umhm,” the other angel muttered noncommittally. A teenager walked past carrying a steaming bag of chips. Gabriel sniffed appreciatively. When his stomach growled, Aziraphale realized exactly what was happening.
“Oh dear. You don’t know how to turn it off, do you?”
Gabriel turned from watching the crowd. “Turn what off?”
“The body you are inhabiting.” Aziraphale inspired another shopper to drop his loose change into a charity worker’s cup. “Took me a bit to get a hang of it.”
“You can control it? I thought you had to go through all the… the motions.” Gabriel gestured vaguely at himself in emphasis.
“Of course you can control it. Your body doesn’t need oxygen - or food, even, though that’s a rather nice indulgence. Right now you are being driven by it. You are experiencing the - eherm - the ‘cravings of the flesh’.” Aziraphale shuddered. “Makes it terribly difficult to last here if you have to deal with all those feelings.”1
“How do I go about turning it off?”
“Ah. Alright. Let’s see.” Aziraphale thought back to all those centuries ago when he had been experiencing a similar problem. “Close your eyes. Push away the thoughts of breathing, ignore the sound of your heartbeat. Concentrate just on existing, on your very essence.”
Gabriel did as Aziraphale instructed, his face twisting in a grimace as he focused.
“Well, I think I stopped my heart from beating.” A passerby did a confused double-take before wandering on. “I’ll try the rest later.”
With a grin and a carefree shrug, he headed towards the shoe store. Not two minutes afterwards, Aziraphale saw Gabriel glance appreciatively at Crowley. He thought that perhaps later might not be soon enough.
1. Though not as difficult as having the divine raiment, blinding-white aura, and flaming sword. It was hard to do one’s job sans human disguise, as people tended to notice that sort of thing.
4.
It took a little finagling to get Crowley on his own. Gabriel had taken to following Aziraphale around like a lost puppy, keeping up a stream of questions and exploring everything around him with the curiosity of a two year old. He was similarly just as frustrating.
At the moment, the other angel was completely absorbed in studying the Bentley. Aziraphale gently pulled Crowley aside to the doorway of the shop.
“I know what you’re up to, you old serpent.” Aziraphale wagged his finger in what he hoped was a stern, intimidating fashion.
“Well, miracle a few cancer patients healthy and consider it even,” Crowley said distractedly. He was watching every move Gabriel made, tensing whenever he got too close to the precious car.
“You aren’t listening to me.”
Gabriel bent over to inspect the tires, and Crowley openly stared.
“See? Right there. That! You are lusting after my boss.”
This got Crowley’s attention. “So? I’m a demon. You’ve seen worse from me.”
“That’s not the point.” Aziraphale sighed in frustration. “The point is that you’re going to do something incredibly stupid and it will either reflect poorly upon me and make my relationship with the higher ups more tense than it already is, or result in my inconvenient discorporation.”
“You think I don’t know what I’m doing? I don’t mess everything up all the time, angel.” Crowley almost appeared hurt by his words. Almost.
“I just don’t think this is going to end well - for anyone.”
Crowley huffed. “Trust me.”
“When have I ever trusted you?”
“Okay, fine,” Crowley conceded. “Then let me learn from my own mistakes. You’re always going on about that.”
Aziraphale’s stomach knotted up again, but he found he could not argue with that logic. He nodded weakly.
5.
“Someone appears to be in a brighter mood today.”
Aziraphale stopped humming and glanced up from the 16th century manuscript he was trying to restore. “If I seem cheerful, it’s only because my guest and I have reached an accord.”
Crowley made his way towards the desk and settled in for some quality hovering.1 He shrugged in that nonchalant way of his. Aziraphale took it as a sign to elaborate.
“He refrains from touching any of my things, and I find the patience to answer all of his questions about humanity. Believe me, he has many.”
“So according to your agreement,” Crowley smirked, “Gabriel’s supposed to be scaring him off that customer out there, not offering him books?”
“What?” Aziraphale hissed. He stood so abruptly that his chair tipped over. The view upon racing to the front of the store was nightmarish, indeed.
Gabriel was smiling beatifically at a customer who was - in Aziraphale’s opinion - quite seedy. On the counter between them lay Kierkegaard’s Begrebet Angest - the first edition, no less!
And then he overheard something to make his blood boil.
“Are you sure?” the dodgy man asked with an oily grin. “No cost at all?”
Gabriel glowed.2 “Certainly. Your need for it is greater than ours.”
Aziraphale was in such a state of shock that he barely noticed the customer leaving. Gabriel wandered over to the stunned angel.
“I understand the appeal of all this, now,” he said with a grand gesture, indicating the entire store. His grin wavered only slightly at Aziraphale’s expression. He turned his focus to Crowley, who had wandered in from the back room. “Reminds me of my job, you know. Imparting knowledge and all that. Very stimulating.”
A sound like an angry squirrel escaped Aziraphale’s throat. His hands began to shake, his nostrils flared, he could feel a vein begin throbbing on his forehead, and yet somehow all the blood drained from his face.
Crowley decided it was in everyone’s best interests to remove Gabriel from the shop.3 The demon grabbed Gabriel’s sleeve and tugged him towards the door.
“Where are we going?” Gabriel asked, still completely oblivious to Aziraphale’s anger.
“Who knows. Somewhere most decidedly not Here.”
“I don’t see why we have to leave. I’m just starting to understand the book business, and I think I’d have more fun staying in the shop.”
“Oh I do think we could have more fun here - just not the type that you’d find enjoyable.”
They were gone for the rest of the day, but that suited Aziraphale perfectly fine. It took him that entire time to regain a sense of calm.
1. Hovering is the fine art of standing close enough to someone to break their concentration without qualifying as ‘reading over the shoulder’. Crowley was an old pro, but it never hurt to get some practice in.
2. Literally. It wasn’t hard for an angel.
3. Not that he wouldn’t have loved the entertainment of it, but if Aziraphale did something rash and violent, Crowley was sure he’d be sent back to heaven in reprimand, and he really didn’t feel like having to train a new counterpart.
6.
Aziraphale regretted allowing Crowley to take Gabriel out unattended by the next afternoon. They had swung by Trafalgar Square to visit the National Gallery, and the archangel had not shut up about it since then.
He spoke in confusion for several hours about Crowley’s favorite piece. Aziraphale grudgingly admitted he was equally baffled. Allegory could work wonders, but sometimes it was too much. Neither of them could figure out what the painting’s message was - if there was one at all. Also among the collection was a piece on the Madonna. Gabriel waxed poetic on the composition and coloring, though he was quite sure Mary had never been that pale.
The art wasn’t the only thing that entranced Gabriel. Crowley had apparently been helping him get up to date on humanity.
“Did you know that some humans give to the needy to selfishly make themselves look better, not for a more noble purpose?”
Aziraphale nodded.
“They’ve all become so desensitized to sex,” Gabriel said, abruptly changing the subject. “It’s everywhere these days! No wonder young adults have so much difficulty resisting temptation.”
The tea was nearly ready. Perhaps he could go to the park later? He hadn’t fed the ducks recently. Poor dears might be starving.
“And they have those video games that are so violent - I don’t know whether to be pleased that they’re channeling aggression into harmless games, or appalled that they have that much anger to begin with.”
He should really drag Gabriel out for some quality thwarting. Maybe even a divine inspiration or two… There was that lovely priest down the way that had been feeling a bit discouraged lately.
“They’ve been so inventive with the ways they sin as well as the ways they worship. Amazing!”
Etc, etc, ad nauseam. It was quite tiring.
When Crowley stopped by the shop that evening, Aziraphale gladly - and unthinkingly - pushed Gabriel out the door. He enjoyed nearly five full minutes of the peace and quiet before panic set in.
7.
Gabriel didn’t come back at all on the seventh day. Aziraphale tried not to worry, but there was really nothing else to do. If Gabriel saw Crowley wile, surely he’d thwart. It was angelic instinct. And if anything particularly demonic was going on, Aziraphale was certain he’d feel it. He contemplated trying to find them, though the thought was quickly discarded. Gabriel could hold his own. Right?
It soon got Aziraphale wondering about his own heavenly record. If Gabriel might be affected by Crowley within a matter of days, what did centuries of exposure do? But then he realized that he had experienced years in the world without Crowley’s influence and therefore wasn’t as naïve as the other angel.
Still, Gabriel could handle himself. There was no need to worry.
Really.
8.
Gabriel finally did return. Unfortunately, Crowley came with him. They were strangely inseparable. All of the jokes and stories that Crowley used to share with Aziraphale were suddenly shared only with Gabriel. The drinking session that used to involve just the two of them suddenly involved a trio.
Gabriel didn’t take well to the alcohol, and became more drunk than Crowley and Aziraphale combined. Aziraphale himself was more sober than usual. The feeling of looking from the outside at what he had previously been privy to was disorienting at best. He tried not to be upset that all of Crowley’s attention was focused on the archangel, but drinking had lost its appeal when there was no one to ramble to.
Aziraphale had to count his blessings, however. The day Gabriel and Crowley spent by themselves had involved nothing scandalous. According to Crowley, they had spent all of the time touring England. Gabriel was gaining vast quantities of knowledge about the state of the world. Whether any of this new knowledge would actually be used by the bureaucracy Upstairs was another issue.
What disturbed Aziraphale the most was what was going on underneath the drunken banter. He could tell from the hand gestures and tone of voice Crowley used throughout the night that the demon still had something planned - something that Aziraphale would no doubt strongly disapprove of. The apparent good deed of tending to Gabriel was just a cover for doing something rather diabolical.
Gabriel was leaving in four days, Aziraphale kept telling himself. Surely that didn’t give Crowley enough time to do anything untoward.
9.
On the ninth day, Gabriel insisted on going somewhere by himself. Aziraphale was glad for the chance to talk to Crowley without interruption. They were driving back from dinner when he dared bring up the subject.
“Are you still following through with your plan concerning Gabriel?”
Crowley swerved suddenly. It was only demonic intervention that kept them from having an accident. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s been fun so far, and I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”
“Honestly, Crowley. I’ve never seen you put so much effort into something. It’s quite disturbing.”
Crowley narrowed his eyes. Or, at least, Aziraphale got the impression that he narrowed his eyes. It was hard to tell behind the sunglasses. “You didn’t have a problem with this when I was ‘learning from my own mistake’, angel.”
“Yes, but now I get the feeling I’m going to be right in the middle of this whole mess.” His entire body had been tense for days, expecting some sort of blow from the fallout. They pulled up to the bookstore. “It’ll be like getting hit with a ton of bricks, I just know it - and I do know what a ton of bricks feels like, thank you very much.”1
“If you are getting so upset about it, angel” Crowley began in mock concern, “then perhaps you should remember that it’s none of your business and piss off.”
As Aziraphale left the Bentley in a huff, he felt the car door slam shut behind him - a door that Crowley had always taken such good care of. He sped away, tires squealing and engine roaring, nearly hitting a pedestrian crossing the street.
1. This was Crowley’s fault, though he tries to deny it.
10.
By the tenth day, Aziraphale was driven to madness. He greeted Crowley at the bookshop entrance and - after making sure Gabriel was in the back room and could not see them - grabbed Crowley’s lapels, pulling the demon in for a kiss.
Aziraphale was, naturally, not quite sure what he was doing. However, he knew the general idea behind it and he was certainly out of his mind enough to try. It couldn’t really be called a kiss. More like a mashing together of lips in a mechanical, unpleasant way. Just as abruptly, Aziraphale shoved Crowley away.
“There. You’ve kissed an angel. Now get over this - thing - you are going through and - and - ” Aziraphale trailed off. They looked at each other in equal amounts of dawning horror. “Oh dear.”
“Ngk.” Crowley agreed.
Aziraphale’s face scrunched up and he wiped his mouth along the sleeve of his tweed jacket. Although it wasn’t the most dignified thing to do, it helped to alleviate some of the wrongness that had seeped along his lips. “Uhg.”
Crowley finally blinked. Without another word, he turned around and left the shop. It was clearly a day both of them would try to forget.1
1. This was actually quite possible if properly motivated. Unburdened by the trappings of human minds, Aziraphale and Crowley were entirely capable of ‘wiping the slate clean’, as it were. Crowley did this for much of the fourteenth century.
11.
Aziraphale made his way to St. James Park the next day for some quality thinking time. He had left Gabriel curled up in the shop with a book on Renaissance art, and Crowley had yet to make an appearance since the ki - since the Incident yesterday. The angel hoped it stayed that way a bit longer.
Hours passed without the angel being aware of it. The sun was setting, the ducks were stuffed from all the crumbs Aziraphale was absentmindedly tossing their way, and the park was clear of all other people except a pair of bicyclers. Aziraphale was a bit surprised to recognize the two heading his way.
“What in the world are you doing here?” he asked Adam, once the boy and his companion pulled up to the bench.
“We’re taking our bikes for a ride,” Adam replied, as if it were completely natural to wind up miles away from one’s home while riding a bicycle.
“Well. I suppose that explains that. Where are my manners?” Aziraphale wiped the crumbs from his hands and stood to greet the pair properly. “How are you doing?”
“’M okay, I suppose. I’m trying to cheer up ol’ gloomy-face here. Dunno if it’s working.”
Aziraphale turned to Adam’s companion. “And why are you feeling down? I didn’t think it was possible.”
IT’S CHRISTMAS, came the reply. EVERY JOB INVOLVES A COMPLAINT ABOUT ‘CUTTING LIFE TOO SHORT’ AND ‘DO WE HAVE TO DO THIS NOW?’
A small drop of guilt wiggled its way into the angel’s gut over those feelings of pity he had towards those who died around the holidays. Clearly he hadn’t been thinking about both sides of the situation.
“I gave him a present, too. I gave him a bell.” Adam smiled proudly.
Right on cue, DEATH reached for the tiny silver contraption on the handlebar of his bicycle. The bell tinkled out a happy tune, but with an undercurrent so deep and beyond human comprehension that it sent shivers down Aziraphale’s spine and caused the celestial spheres to vibrate like a complex tuning fork.1
AND A BASKET, AS WELL.
“Mwhuh?” Aziraphale snapped out of the bell-induced trance. “Whatever could you want to put in a bicycle basket?”
WHATEVER I WANT. THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS.
By some strange compulsion, the angel leaned slightly forward to look into the daisy covered wicker basket. There were a few books nestled inside, much to Aziraphale’s glee. On closer inspection, however, he realized just what kind of books they were. The top one - entitled The Black Widow’s Kiss2 - featured the picture of a swooning woman on the cover. Aziraphale could also make out in the jumble an 18th century grimoire of rather good condition. He looked up at DEATH’s face with an arched eyebrow. DEATH, of course, was unashamed and merely shrugged.
“So what’s been eatin’ you?” Adam asked kindly.
Aziraphale gave a brief thought towards denying anything was wrong, but the look on Adam’s face convinced him otherwise. “Crowley. He’s showing far too much interest in Gabriel and I don’t like it one bit. I think he means to - to seduce him. Gabriel isn’t used to such things and doesn’t know how to turn him away.”
“But does he seem bothered by it?”
“Well, no. He quite likes Crowley, amazingly enough.” Aziraphale wrung his hands together. “They’re thick as thieves at the moment. I just know this is going to end badly.”
IF IT HELPS, IT ALWAYS ENDS THE SAME WAY. ALWAYS.
“That doesn’t make me feel any better, actually. I appreciate the thought, though.”
“Seems to me that you’re not bein’ very charitable.” Adam gazed fondly at the ducks. “No body’s bein’ messed with. They’re making their own minds. I guess that’s what’s important here.”
Aziraphale got the impression Adam knew more than he was letting on.
“I suppose we should get goin’.”
TIME WAITS FOR NO MAN.
“Happy Christmas!” Adam called behind him as the pair rode away.
The angel was left feeling very alone and still quite confused. “A very joyous Christmas to you, as well.”
1. It was also the very last sound heard on earth by approximately a dozen souls.
2. If anyone bothered to ask Aziraphale, he could have given several very good reasons why this book was the essence of trashy and highly unbefitting any celestial being. He found Paradise Found to be much more satisfying on an intellectual level, with less poorly written erotica and a meeting of the souls between the heroine and her suitor that made him weep every time. Not that he’s read it, of course.
12.
The day finally came for Gabriel to depart. Crowley wandered into the store yet again - Aziraphale was certain he had never visited this frequently before. There was the sharing of a final bottle of wine and a bit of conversation meant to delay the inevitable. He caught Crowley’s eye as he was shaking hands with Gabriel. There was a smugness there that meant the demon’s Plan was coming to fruition. Aziraphale knew what was coming. He gave a sigh of resignation.
Although he was still filled with fearful anticipation, his talk with Adam had made him realize several things. First - Gabriel was a grown angel and could make his own decisions. Second - those Upstairs could not blame him in any way for whatever might happen. He didn’t think so, anyway. Finally - he could conveniently remind Crowley of this event should there be any point in the future wherein he needed a favor from the demon. It wasn’t blackmail, per se. Aziraphale was simply keeping the balance that was intrinsic to the Arrangement.
Sure enough, as Gabriel was extending a hand for a farewell handshake, Crowley pushed the archangel up against one of the bookcases and gave him a thorough kiss. Oh, and right in front of the Jane Austens as well. She would definitely not approve.1
Gabriel did not seem too terribly surprised, and definitely did not push Crowley away. In fact, he was tugging the demon closer. They were tangled in some twisted, reverse parody of their first encounter. It was only once there was some highly indecent groping about to occur that Aziraphale stepped in.
“Excuse me. Ehem.” He tapped Crowley’s shoulder. “Neither the time nor the place, my dear.”
They broke apart, much to Aziraphale’s relief. He had been expecting a bit more protest. Crowley sauntered away while Gabriel tried to collect himself. The archangel was quite gobsmacked and his eyes didn’t entirely focus on anything.
“I think I might visit Earth a bit more often,” he whispered dreamily, then disappeared.
Aziraphale turned to Crowley and glared. For added effect, he crossed his arms and tapped his foot. Crowley shifted uncomfortably against the counter.
“Come on, angel. I had fun, Gabriel had fun. Just let it go.” Crowley inspected his nails in an attempt at calm and collected.
The angel cleared his throat and glared some more.
Realization dawned on Crowley’s face. “Oh. Oh!” He sauntered his way back towards Aziraphale and poked him in the chest. “There’s no fun for you unless you get to lecture me. Well, if you’re going to give me a thorough lashing, might I suggest we do it over dinner?”
What little ire Aziraphale still possessed drained away. It was true that trying to make Crowley feel guilty was tremendous fun, and food sounded like an excellent idea.
“Fine. But don’t expect me to pay for it!” Aziraphale snapped in a last attempt to be stern.
The bout of excitement was over, and it was finally time to relax.2
1. Actually, she would, the kinky wench.
2. For now, anyway.
Gift for: musegaarid
Author: oddsbobs
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Gabriel/Crowley, Aziraphale, Adam, DEATH
Summary: “Gabriel was leaving in four days, Aziraphale kept telling himself. Surely that didn’t give Crowley enough time to do anything untoward.”
Author’s Notes: Merry Christmas, musegaarid! I’m… uncertain about my characterization of Gabriel, so I wound up centering much of the fic on Aziraphale and Crowley’s friendship. Hope you enjoy!
1.
There had been a time, Aziraphale remembered, that an angel could get a chance to rest between periods of excitement. He missed those days. Adventures were all well and good, but nothing was better than a warm cup of tea and a quiet evening of reading. Ever since the day the world didn’t really end, however, Aziraphale had not gotten a chance to relax. The most recent excitement involved a very angry angel in his bookshop - an angel that wasn’t him.
Gabriel was ostensibly on vacation. He had arrived at Aziraphale’s bookshop that morning unannounced with a letter from Above giving strict orders to make him as comfortable as possible. It hadn’t taken long for Aziraphale to realize that Heaven had an ulterior motive; those in charge had finally recognized just how out of touch they were with the humans of today. Adam’s entirely human logic had stymied the heavenly host. Gabriel’s ‘vacation’ was probably the first step of many to rectify the problem.
Like a good little servant of God, Aziraphale had gladly readied himself for twelve days of nonstop questions about the world and the strange ways of the people inhabiting it. He hadn’t planned for Crowley to come wandering into the store around noon with an invitation to lunch.
The angel didn’t have time to blink before Gabriel had pinned Crowley to the wall.
Aziraphale tugged ineffectively at Gabriel’s robes. “Stop it! You don’t know what you’re doing!”
Crowley flailed his arms about, hitting Gabriel on the side of his head but also clipping Aziraphale’s chin. The blow only gave Crowley a moment, however. Before the demon could flee, Gabriel brought a Dagger of Righteousness1 out from nowhere. Crowley was held to the wall with one arm while Aziraphale held back the hand holding the blade. For a being that didn’t really require breathing and therefore couldn’t really be choked, Crowley was turning an interesting shade of red.
“Gabriel!” Aziraphale shouted. By some miracle, he was finally able to wrench the other angel off Crowley. The demon slid to the ground, stunned.
“Stand down, angel - or feel the wrath of God placed upon your own brow! This demon must be thrown back to the depths of sin from whence he came.”
“This demon is my frie - I mean - he helped stop the Apocalypse!”
This gave Gabriel a pause. As with most large institutions and all national governments, Heaven had ignored their failure That Day for many weeks before convincing themselves that it was their Plan all along.2
“The serpent has repented and joined the army of God?” The shocked look on Gabriel’s face would have been comical if the situation hadn’t been so volatile.
“Yes!” Aziraphale cried desperately, covering Crowley’s indignant sputters.
Gabriel looked from the panicked angel to the glowering demon. He tugged lightly at one of his golden curls and chewed his bottom lip as he thought. He turned and left the room.
Crowley rose unsteadily from the floor. “Does this mean I’m not about to be rent in twain?” he muttered.
“Are you alright, Crowley?” Aziraphale rushed to the side of the demon.
“I’m fine - I’m ok. It’s just been a while since - like that - with the smiting. Yes.” He straightened his already immaculate suit with slightly shaking hands.
“You’ve gone soft, my dear,” Aziraphale chuckled. A few centuries ago, Crowley would have taken an attempted smiting in stride. To his confusion, Crowley blushed.
“Ehem. Uh. No. Not quite.”
1. Smaller and less cumbersome than a flaming sword, the Dagger of Righteousness emits a heavenly glow just as powerful as wrathful fire, but without the smoke: the perfect gift for the angel on the go. Find the Dagger of Righteousness at any Burning Bush locations, or ask your Guardian Angel union representative for details.
2. And Lo, the host of angels gathered upon the Earth, and came from their lips the praises of the Lord, and their hands raised in supplication and wonder. Satan’s horde beheld these glories and trembled before His might. So shall the world know the boundless mercy of the Heavenly Father, so shall the people of the Earth be spared.
2.
It was Gabriel’s idea to invite Crowley over for tea the next day - supposedly to apologize. However, it was Aziraphale who probably felt the most awkward. The conversation was a bit stilted between the three of them. After all, there weren’t many subjects Crowley and Gabriel would be able to discuss without dissolving into an argument.
Gabriel tended to stare at Crowley like he was a particularly unpleasant pest, his eyebrows drawn in confusion at how a demon was voluntarily sipping tea with two angels.
Crowley was staring right back with an expression of polite interest. At first Aziraphale thought his counterpart was merely studying the differences between the two angels. As the afternoon wore on, however, he noticed the calculating looks given over the tops of Crowley’s sunglasses and had the bad feeling that the demon was actually getting Ideas.
Sinful ideas that centered on Gabriel.
3.
Much to Aziraphale’s surprise, Gabriel insisted that Crowley accompany them around London the next day. He said he wanted to learn about the human plight and how they dealt with infernal interference on top of their own stupidity.
“He is rather nice to look at, don’t you think?” Gabriel suddenly confided to Aziraphale while Crowley was subtly directing the crowd of holiday shoppers into a chaotic and stressful traffic pattern. “Quite an improvement on that serpent facade.”
The feeling of dread in Aziraphale’s stomach intensified. He gathered his thoughts while he kept a woman weighed down with shopping bags from walking straight into a man equally burdened. “I suppose so. I’ve never really looked at him that way, though. Ever since that one week in Rome, I can only picture him… Well, when one sees one’s acquaintance like that, it really is rather hard to forget.”
“Umhm,” the other angel muttered noncommittally. A teenager walked past carrying a steaming bag of chips. Gabriel sniffed appreciatively. When his stomach growled, Aziraphale realized exactly what was happening.
“Oh dear. You don’t know how to turn it off, do you?”
Gabriel turned from watching the crowd. “Turn what off?”
“The body you are inhabiting.” Aziraphale inspired another shopper to drop his loose change into a charity worker’s cup. “Took me a bit to get a hang of it.”
“You can control it? I thought you had to go through all the… the motions.” Gabriel gestured vaguely at himself in emphasis.
“Of course you can control it. Your body doesn’t need oxygen - or food, even, though that’s a rather nice indulgence. Right now you are being driven by it. You are experiencing the - eherm - the ‘cravings of the flesh’.” Aziraphale shuddered. “Makes it terribly difficult to last here if you have to deal with all those feelings.”1
“How do I go about turning it off?”
“Ah. Alright. Let’s see.” Aziraphale thought back to all those centuries ago when he had been experiencing a similar problem. “Close your eyes. Push away the thoughts of breathing, ignore the sound of your heartbeat. Concentrate just on existing, on your very essence.”
Gabriel did as Aziraphale instructed, his face twisting in a grimace as he focused.
“Well, I think I stopped my heart from beating.” A passerby did a confused double-take before wandering on. “I’ll try the rest later.”
With a grin and a carefree shrug, he headed towards the shoe store. Not two minutes afterwards, Aziraphale saw Gabriel glance appreciatively at Crowley. He thought that perhaps later might not be soon enough.
1. Though not as difficult as having the divine raiment, blinding-white aura, and flaming sword. It was hard to do one’s job sans human disguise, as people tended to notice that sort of thing.
4.
It took a little finagling to get Crowley on his own. Gabriel had taken to following Aziraphale around like a lost puppy, keeping up a stream of questions and exploring everything around him with the curiosity of a two year old. He was similarly just as frustrating.
At the moment, the other angel was completely absorbed in studying the Bentley. Aziraphale gently pulled Crowley aside to the doorway of the shop.
“I know what you’re up to, you old serpent.” Aziraphale wagged his finger in what he hoped was a stern, intimidating fashion.
“Well, miracle a few cancer patients healthy and consider it even,” Crowley said distractedly. He was watching every move Gabriel made, tensing whenever he got too close to the precious car.
“You aren’t listening to me.”
Gabriel bent over to inspect the tires, and Crowley openly stared.
“See? Right there. That! You are lusting after my boss.”
This got Crowley’s attention. “So? I’m a demon. You’ve seen worse from me.”
“That’s not the point.” Aziraphale sighed in frustration. “The point is that you’re going to do something incredibly stupid and it will either reflect poorly upon me and make my relationship with the higher ups more tense than it already is, or result in my inconvenient discorporation.”
“You think I don’t know what I’m doing? I don’t mess everything up all the time, angel.” Crowley almost appeared hurt by his words. Almost.
“I just don’t think this is going to end well - for anyone.”
Crowley huffed. “Trust me.”
“When have I ever trusted you?”
“Okay, fine,” Crowley conceded. “Then let me learn from my own mistakes. You’re always going on about that.”
Aziraphale’s stomach knotted up again, but he found he could not argue with that logic. He nodded weakly.
5.
“Someone appears to be in a brighter mood today.”
Aziraphale stopped humming and glanced up from the 16th century manuscript he was trying to restore. “If I seem cheerful, it’s only because my guest and I have reached an accord.”
Crowley made his way towards the desk and settled in for some quality hovering.1 He shrugged in that nonchalant way of his. Aziraphale took it as a sign to elaborate.
“He refrains from touching any of my things, and I find the patience to answer all of his questions about humanity. Believe me, he has many.”
“So according to your agreement,” Crowley smirked, “Gabriel’s supposed to be scaring him off that customer out there, not offering him books?”
“What?” Aziraphale hissed. He stood so abruptly that his chair tipped over. The view upon racing to the front of the store was nightmarish, indeed.
Gabriel was smiling beatifically at a customer who was - in Aziraphale’s opinion - quite seedy. On the counter between them lay Kierkegaard’s Begrebet Angest - the first edition, no less!
And then he overheard something to make his blood boil.
“Are you sure?” the dodgy man asked with an oily grin. “No cost at all?”
Gabriel glowed.2 “Certainly. Your need for it is greater than ours.”
Aziraphale was in such a state of shock that he barely noticed the customer leaving. Gabriel wandered over to the stunned angel.
“I understand the appeal of all this, now,” he said with a grand gesture, indicating the entire store. His grin wavered only slightly at Aziraphale’s expression. He turned his focus to Crowley, who had wandered in from the back room. “Reminds me of my job, you know. Imparting knowledge and all that. Very stimulating.”
A sound like an angry squirrel escaped Aziraphale’s throat. His hands began to shake, his nostrils flared, he could feel a vein begin throbbing on his forehead, and yet somehow all the blood drained from his face.
Crowley decided it was in everyone’s best interests to remove Gabriel from the shop.3 The demon grabbed Gabriel’s sleeve and tugged him towards the door.
“Where are we going?” Gabriel asked, still completely oblivious to Aziraphale’s anger.
“Who knows. Somewhere most decidedly not Here.”
“I don’t see why we have to leave. I’m just starting to understand the book business, and I think I’d have more fun staying in the shop.”
“Oh I do think we could have more fun here - just not the type that you’d find enjoyable.”
They were gone for the rest of the day, but that suited Aziraphale perfectly fine. It took him that entire time to regain a sense of calm.
1. Hovering is the fine art of standing close enough to someone to break their concentration without qualifying as ‘reading over the shoulder’. Crowley was an old pro, but it never hurt to get some practice in.
2. Literally. It wasn’t hard for an angel.
3. Not that he wouldn’t have loved the entertainment of it, but if Aziraphale did something rash and violent, Crowley was sure he’d be sent back to heaven in reprimand, and he really didn’t feel like having to train a new counterpart.
6.
Aziraphale regretted allowing Crowley to take Gabriel out unattended by the next afternoon. They had swung by Trafalgar Square to visit the National Gallery, and the archangel had not shut up about it since then.
He spoke in confusion for several hours about Crowley’s favorite piece. Aziraphale grudgingly admitted he was equally baffled. Allegory could work wonders, but sometimes it was too much. Neither of them could figure out what the painting’s message was - if there was one at all. Also among the collection was a piece on the Madonna. Gabriel waxed poetic on the composition and coloring, though he was quite sure Mary had never been that pale.
The art wasn’t the only thing that entranced Gabriel. Crowley had apparently been helping him get up to date on humanity.
“Did you know that some humans give to the needy to selfishly make themselves look better, not for a more noble purpose?”
Aziraphale nodded.
“They’ve all become so desensitized to sex,” Gabriel said, abruptly changing the subject. “It’s everywhere these days! No wonder young adults have so much difficulty resisting temptation.”
The tea was nearly ready. Perhaps he could go to the park later? He hadn’t fed the ducks recently. Poor dears might be starving.
“And they have those video games that are so violent - I don’t know whether to be pleased that they’re channeling aggression into harmless games, or appalled that they have that much anger to begin with.”
He should really drag Gabriel out for some quality thwarting. Maybe even a divine inspiration or two… There was that lovely priest down the way that had been feeling a bit discouraged lately.
“They’ve been so inventive with the ways they sin as well as the ways they worship. Amazing!”
Etc, etc, ad nauseam. It was quite tiring.
When Crowley stopped by the shop that evening, Aziraphale gladly - and unthinkingly - pushed Gabriel out the door. He enjoyed nearly five full minutes of the peace and quiet before panic set in.
7.
Gabriel didn’t come back at all on the seventh day. Aziraphale tried not to worry, but there was really nothing else to do. If Gabriel saw Crowley wile, surely he’d thwart. It was angelic instinct. And if anything particularly demonic was going on, Aziraphale was certain he’d feel it. He contemplated trying to find them, though the thought was quickly discarded. Gabriel could hold his own. Right?
It soon got Aziraphale wondering about his own heavenly record. If Gabriel might be affected by Crowley within a matter of days, what did centuries of exposure do? But then he realized that he had experienced years in the world without Crowley’s influence and therefore wasn’t as naïve as the other angel.
Still, Gabriel could handle himself. There was no need to worry.
Really.
8.
Gabriel finally did return. Unfortunately, Crowley came with him. They were strangely inseparable. All of the jokes and stories that Crowley used to share with Aziraphale were suddenly shared only with Gabriel. The drinking session that used to involve just the two of them suddenly involved a trio.
Gabriel didn’t take well to the alcohol, and became more drunk than Crowley and Aziraphale combined. Aziraphale himself was more sober than usual. The feeling of looking from the outside at what he had previously been privy to was disorienting at best. He tried not to be upset that all of Crowley’s attention was focused on the archangel, but drinking had lost its appeal when there was no one to ramble to.
Aziraphale had to count his blessings, however. The day Gabriel and Crowley spent by themselves had involved nothing scandalous. According to Crowley, they had spent all of the time touring England. Gabriel was gaining vast quantities of knowledge about the state of the world. Whether any of this new knowledge would actually be used by the bureaucracy Upstairs was another issue.
What disturbed Aziraphale the most was what was going on underneath the drunken banter. He could tell from the hand gestures and tone of voice Crowley used throughout the night that the demon still had something planned - something that Aziraphale would no doubt strongly disapprove of. The apparent good deed of tending to Gabriel was just a cover for doing something rather diabolical.
Gabriel was leaving in four days, Aziraphale kept telling himself. Surely that didn’t give Crowley enough time to do anything untoward.
9.
On the ninth day, Gabriel insisted on going somewhere by himself. Aziraphale was glad for the chance to talk to Crowley without interruption. They were driving back from dinner when he dared bring up the subject.
“Are you still following through with your plan concerning Gabriel?”
Crowley swerved suddenly. It was only demonic intervention that kept them from having an accident. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s been fun so far, and I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”
“Honestly, Crowley. I’ve never seen you put so much effort into something. It’s quite disturbing.”
Crowley narrowed his eyes. Or, at least, Aziraphale got the impression that he narrowed his eyes. It was hard to tell behind the sunglasses. “You didn’t have a problem with this when I was ‘learning from my own mistake’, angel.”
“Yes, but now I get the feeling I’m going to be right in the middle of this whole mess.” His entire body had been tense for days, expecting some sort of blow from the fallout. They pulled up to the bookstore. “It’ll be like getting hit with a ton of bricks, I just know it - and I do know what a ton of bricks feels like, thank you very much.”1
“If you are getting so upset about it, angel” Crowley began in mock concern, “then perhaps you should remember that it’s none of your business and piss off.”
As Aziraphale left the Bentley in a huff, he felt the car door slam shut behind him - a door that Crowley had always taken such good care of. He sped away, tires squealing and engine roaring, nearly hitting a pedestrian crossing the street.
1. This was Crowley’s fault, though he tries to deny it.
10.
By the tenth day, Aziraphale was driven to madness. He greeted Crowley at the bookshop entrance and - after making sure Gabriel was in the back room and could not see them - grabbed Crowley’s lapels, pulling the demon in for a kiss.
Aziraphale was, naturally, not quite sure what he was doing. However, he knew the general idea behind it and he was certainly out of his mind enough to try. It couldn’t really be called a kiss. More like a mashing together of lips in a mechanical, unpleasant way. Just as abruptly, Aziraphale shoved Crowley away.
“There. You’ve kissed an angel. Now get over this - thing - you are going through and - and - ” Aziraphale trailed off. They looked at each other in equal amounts of dawning horror. “Oh dear.”
“Ngk.” Crowley agreed.
Aziraphale’s face scrunched up and he wiped his mouth along the sleeve of his tweed jacket. Although it wasn’t the most dignified thing to do, it helped to alleviate some of the wrongness that had seeped along his lips. “Uhg.”
Crowley finally blinked. Without another word, he turned around and left the shop. It was clearly a day both of them would try to forget.1
1. This was actually quite possible if properly motivated. Unburdened by the trappings of human minds, Aziraphale and Crowley were entirely capable of ‘wiping the slate clean’, as it were. Crowley did this for much of the fourteenth century.
11.
Aziraphale made his way to St. James Park the next day for some quality thinking time. He had left Gabriel curled up in the shop with a book on Renaissance art, and Crowley had yet to make an appearance since the ki - since the Incident yesterday. The angel hoped it stayed that way a bit longer.
Hours passed without the angel being aware of it. The sun was setting, the ducks were stuffed from all the crumbs Aziraphale was absentmindedly tossing their way, and the park was clear of all other people except a pair of bicyclers. Aziraphale was a bit surprised to recognize the two heading his way.
“What in the world are you doing here?” he asked Adam, once the boy and his companion pulled up to the bench.
“We’re taking our bikes for a ride,” Adam replied, as if it were completely natural to wind up miles away from one’s home while riding a bicycle.
“Well. I suppose that explains that. Where are my manners?” Aziraphale wiped the crumbs from his hands and stood to greet the pair properly. “How are you doing?”
“’M okay, I suppose. I’m trying to cheer up ol’ gloomy-face here. Dunno if it’s working.”
Aziraphale turned to Adam’s companion. “And why are you feeling down? I didn’t think it was possible.”
IT’S CHRISTMAS, came the reply. EVERY JOB INVOLVES A COMPLAINT ABOUT ‘CUTTING LIFE TOO SHORT’ AND ‘DO WE HAVE TO DO THIS NOW?’
A small drop of guilt wiggled its way into the angel’s gut over those feelings of pity he had towards those who died around the holidays. Clearly he hadn’t been thinking about both sides of the situation.
“I gave him a present, too. I gave him a bell.” Adam smiled proudly.
Right on cue, DEATH reached for the tiny silver contraption on the handlebar of his bicycle. The bell tinkled out a happy tune, but with an undercurrent so deep and beyond human comprehension that it sent shivers down Aziraphale’s spine and caused the celestial spheres to vibrate like a complex tuning fork.1
AND A BASKET, AS WELL.
“Mwhuh?” Aziraphale snapped out of the bell-induced trance. “Whatever could you want to put in a bicycle basket?”
WHATEVER I WANT. THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS.
By some strange compulsion, the angel leaned slightly forward to look into the daisy covered wicker basket. There were a few books nestled inside, much to Aziraphale’s glee. On closer inspection, however, he realized just what kind of books they were. The top one - entitled The Black Widow’s Kiss2 - featured the picture of a swooning woman on the cover. Aziraphale could also make out in the jumble an 18th century grimoire of rather good condition. He looked up at DEATH’s face with an arched eyebrow. DEATH, of course, was unashamed and merely shrugged.
“So what’s been eatin’ you?” Adam asked kindly.
Aziraphale gave a brief thought towards denying anything was wrong, but the look on Adam’s face convinced him otherwise. “Crowley. He’s showing far too much interest in Gabriel and I don’t like it one bit. I think he means to - to seduce him. Gabriel isn’t used to such things and doesn’t know how to turn him away.”
“But does he seem bothered by it?”
“Well, no. He quite likes Crowley, amazingly enough.” Aziraphale wrung his hands together. “They’re thick as thieves at the moment. I just know this is going to end badly.”
IF IT HELPS, IT ALWAYS ENDS THE SAME WAY. ALWAYS.
“That doesn’t make me feel any better, actually. I appreciate the thought, though.”
“Seems to me that you’re not bein’ very charitable.” Adam gazed fondly at the ducks. “No body’s bein’ messed with. They’re making their own minds. I guess that’s what’s important here.”
Aziraphale got the impression Adam knew more than he was letting on.
“I suppose we should get goin’.”
TIME WAITS FOR NO MAN.
“Happy Christmas!” Adam called behind him as the pair rode away.
The angel was left feeling very alone and still quite confused. “A very joyous Christmas to you, as well.”
1. It was also the very last sound heard on earth by approximately a dozen souls.
2. If anyone bothered to ask Aziraphale, he could have given several very good reasons why this book was the essence of trashy and highly unbefitting any celestial being. He found Paradise Found to be much more satisfying on an intellectual level, with less poorly written erotica and a meeting of the souls between the heroine and her suitor that made him weep every time. Not that he’s read it, of course.
12.
The day finally came for Gabriel to depart. Crowley wandered into the store yet again - Aziraphale was certain he had never visited this frequently before. There was the sharing of a final bottle of wine and a bit of conversation meant to delay the inevitable. He caught Crowley’s eye as he was shaking hands with Gabriel. There was a smugness there that meant the demon’s Plan was coming to fruition. Aziraphale knew what was coming. He gave a sigh of resignation.
Although he was still filled with fearful anticipation, his talk with Adam had made him realize several things. First - Gabriel was a grown angel and could make his own decisions. Second - those Upstairs could not blame him in any way for whatever might happen. He didn’t think so, anyway. Finally - he could conveniently remind Crowley of this event should there be any point in the future wherein he needed a favor from the demon. It wasn’t blackmail, per se. Aziraphale was simply keeping the balance that was intrinsic to the Arrangement.
Sure enough, as Gabriel was extending a hand for a farewell handshake, Crowley pushed the archangel up against one of the bookcases and gave him a thorough kiss. Oh, and right in front of the Jane Austens as well. She would definitely not approve.1
Gabriel did not seem too terribly surprised, and definitely did not push Crowley away. In fact, he was tugging the demon closer. They were tangled in some twisted, reverse parody of their first encounter. It was only once there was some highly indecent groping about to occur that Aziraphale stepped in.
“Excuse me. Ehem.” He tapped Crowley’s shoulder. “Neither the time nor the place, my dear.”
They broke apart, much to Aziraphale’s relief. He had been expecting a bit more protest. Crowley sauntered away while Gabriel tried to collect himself. The archangel was quite gobsmacked and his eyes didn’t entirely focus on anything.
“I think I might visit Earth a bit more often,” he whispered dreamily, then disappeared.
Aziraphale turned to Crowley and glared. For added effect, he crossed his arms and tapped his foot. Crowley shifted uncomfortably against the counter.
“Come on, angel. I had fun, Gabriel had fun. Just let it go.” Crowley inspected his nails in an attempt at calm and collected.
The angel cleared his throat and glared some more.
Realization dawned on Crowley’s face. “Oh. Oh!” He sauntered his way back towards Aziraphale and poked him in the chest. “There’s no fun for you unless you get to lecture me. Well, if you’re going to give me a thorough lashing, might I suggest we do it over dinner?”
What little ire Aziraphale still possessed drained away. It was true that trying to make Crowley feel guilty was tremendous fun, and food sounded like an excellent idea.
“Fine. But don’t expect me to pay for it!” Aziraphale snapped in a last attempt to be stern.
The bout of excitement was over, and it was finally time to relax.2
1. Actually, she would, the kinky wench.
2. For now, anyway.