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Chapter Text

When Aziraphale had been given a ship and crew to sail with, he hadn’t expected a mutiny. He didn’t expect to have a knife pressed to his back with the vast dark ocean in front of him.

He had only wanted to sail to other lands under the guise of gaining more political allies. The real reason lay in his desire to immerse himself in cultures he had only ever read about. Aziraphale enjoyed reading about far and distant lands ever since he was young, but traveling hadn’t been a possibility. He was a prince after all and needed to be protected. Yet after years of asking, his mother finally agreed to give him his own ship. The only caveat was that he would take some of his brother’s troops with him to keep him safe while traveling. Aziraphale believed that his right-hand woman, Michael, was trustworthy. But that trust was misplaced.

Once the kingdom was beyond the horizon, Michael took command of Aziraphale’s ship and imprisoned him beneath the deck. She only kept him there for a few hours, never saying what her true intentions were.

Before long she had one of the crew drag Aziraphale up to the deck, pressing a knife to his back.

“No funny business princey.” the man growled in his ear. Aziraphale tried not to show his fear, tried not to flinch. The man lead him up to the deck, where the rest of the crewed watched him being led to where a plank of wood was hanging out over the side of the boat. Aziraphale swallowed hard, hoping his fear didn’t show in his features.

“Aziraphale, nice of you to join us,” Michael said, almost no emotion in her voice. A few snickers came from the onlooking crew members.

“You won’t get away with this,” Aziraphale said, trying and failing to sound threatening. He knew he couldn’t survive this situation. They were going to push him overboard and watch him drown. But he also knew that his brother and mother would come looking for him, that they would find out what happened to him and Michael would be punished. He needed to believe that that’s how things would end up.

“Won’t get away with what? Oh her majesty will be devastated that we lost Prince Aziraphale at sea. A siren attack took him. Everyone knows they lurk in these waters anyway.” A smirk crept onto her face as she spoke. Aziraphale scoffed at this. Sirens were old sailor’s tales and nothing more. Simple legends. They couldn’t possibly exist.

“My mother would never believe that.” Aziraphale watched Michael, waiting for her to say anything else, but she simply held out her arm, gesturing to the makeshift plank hanging off the side of the ship.

“Go on, might as well make this entertaining for the boys.” She spoke, causing some more snickering and whispering from the crew around them.

The man behind him pressed the knife into Aziraphale’s back, causing him to wince at the feeling. He stumbled forward slightly before he started to walk. A knife was pressed to his back the whole time. He moved forward slowly, glancing down at the roaring ocean below. The wind was rough, causing the ship to creak and rock. Waves licked up the side as if waiting for Aziraphale to fall into them.

“Goodbye Aziraphale,” Michael said, a coldness in her tone.

Aziraphale wanted to speak, to say something to make this horrible woman regret her choice. Or maybe even fear being caught. But his words left him as he felt something pierce through his stomach. It ripped the tissue as it was twisted into his side. Aziraphale was too shocked to even scream. All he could do was gasp for air as he stumbled off the wooden boards that once held him up.

In a blink of an eye, Aziraphale felt icy water surround him, swallowing him up. The waves dragged him deep into the water. He held his breath, struggling to swim back to the surface for air. Despite his desperate situation, he was still trying to survive.

He thought of his mother, his beautiful home. The prince wished that he had never left the seaside kingdom. Yet there was nothing he could do to change his fate now. He would die, young and having done nothing noteworthy with his life. Just a footnote in history. Not having truly lived the way he always wished to.

There was what felt like a hand wrapping around his wrist. He turned his head, trying to see through the dark waters. Aziraphale screamed, the air in his lungs was quickly replaced by ocean water. He must have been imagining things.

Golden eyes stared at him, mere inches from his face. Curly crimson hair tangled in knots around the figure. But he only saw the image for a moment before his body started violently trying to rid the water from his lungs. The pain became excruciating between his chest and the knife wound in his side. There was no way out of this.

The beautiful figure pulled Aziraphale closer than he’d ever been to another person before. As his vision started going black, he felt something warm and pleasant against his lips. He leaned into the feeling, his dying mind desired to feel anything but the intense agony he was in. It was not a moment before darkness swallowed him up for good.

Chapter Text

There was a warm and pleasant feeling against Aziraphale’s skin. Like the sun on a late summer afternoon. He could nearly taste the sea salt that filled the air Quiet sounds of windchimes drifted to his ears from somewhere nearby. He could almost make out a strange melody within the twinkle of bells. And if he really listened, there were crashes of the waves hitting against the shore. It all seemed so familiar. It felt like home.

What didn’t feel like home was the hardness of the cushions beneath him. The rough feel of the fabric draped over him. Not to mention the aching pain in his side. When had that pain started? It felt sharp still, a new wound possibly. Something deep.

Then the image of a plank beneath his feet flashed into his mind. A cruel glaring woman. A knife pierced into his side. An endless ocean: dark, cold. Then it all vanished with a flash of gorgeous golden eyes.

Aziraphale’s eyes flew open, finally waking up from what must have been a very bad dream. After all, if it had been real, he’d be dead. Sunken to the bottom of the ocean. However, when he carefully tried to sit up, an intense pain flared up in the side of his abdomen. He reached to the pain, only to realize a gauze was between his fingertips and the wound. Had someone been treating his wounds? It certainly seemed that way. He wore ill-fitting trousers and nothing to cover his chest save the large pieces of gauze covering his stomach

Laying back down, Aziraphale took in his surroundings. It was a strange place. One where he most definitely hadn’t been before. The room he was in had many windows, allowing light to flow in from all sides. There was a table in the corner with mismatched chairs. A kitchenette took up most of the one wall by the table. There was a door beside the kitchen that seemed to lead outside, while a small hallway on the opposite end lead deeper into the house. Aziraphale was against a wall with a large window, on a slightly cramped sofa.

Every shelf, table, counter, and most of the ground was covered with various objects. Cluttered, not unlike Aziraphale’s study. But instead of books, there were all kinds of objects. Various shells littered the room. Old objects, far older than the prince lay about the tables. Some were machines, some were old clothes, and he even noticed a couple of bicycles with missing parts shoved into the corner. Above all was the sheer number of plants scattered about the table and a good portion of the shelves held plants of various kinds. Even some plants hung in the many windows of the home. The home felt lived in and loved. Despite the clutter, it was homey. Peaceful even.

The door made a long creak as it was opened. Aziraphale immediately looked to the main door, watching as a stranger entered the room. Yet he wasn’t expecting such a beautiful man to walk in. When his eyes met the man’s, Aziraphale felt his breath hitch in his throat.

“Shit- you’re awake,” The man said, sounding a little breathless himself. Aziraphale could make out the concern in his voice. “I thought you’d end up dying on me.”

His skin was pale and littered with freckles. His figure was slender and long. Almost to the point where he could have looked awkward. He wore a grey tank top and black pants that were rolled up at the bottom. The former of which was riding up to where Aziraphale could make out a sliver of his midriff. His crimson hair curled down to his waist in a beautiful mane. And his eyes… they were golden as the sun and just as intense. Like the eyes he'd seen in the ocean.

“W-what happened? How did I get here?” Aziraphale said, embarrassed as his words caught in his throat. The man gave him an awkward kind of smile.

“I found you in the water. You were half washed up on the shore and bleeding like crazy. Don’t know how you even made it to the beach.” The man explained. He went to the kitchenette, rummaging through the cupboards. They seemed just as cluttered as the rest of the house.

He pulled out a medical bag. A very old one at that.

“I cleaned and dressed your wounds for you. Been putting new dressing on them every day actually. How’d you get so messed up anyway?” The stranger asked as he sat in a chair beside the sofa where Aziraphale lay.

“Ah yes well, it’s been a rather difficult week,” Aziraphale said awkwardly. He had no idea how to react to this stranger. He had been so kind to him, having seen to his injuries and possibly saved his life.

“Difficult week? You’re pulling my leg, yeah? Sounds like the understatement of the century,” The man teased, laughing at the prince. Aziraphale tried to ignore the blush rising to his cheeks

“I most certainly am not?” Aziraphale gasped, entirely offended that some stranger would make fun of him. It was not something Aziraphale was used to. But the offended gasp simply made the man laugh more.

“Sorry sorry, shouldn’t be assuming things like that.” The man said, a crooked smile still on his face. It was a genuine smile, not fake and forced like so many the prince had seen before. “Considering you’re most definitely not mad, you should probably let me clean out your wound. Figure you would rather not let the thing get infected.”

The man gestured to Aziraphale’s bandages, to which Aziraphale hesitated for a moment before lifting his arms to allow the man access. He winced in pain as he moved and looked away from the stranger. He felt vulnerable like this, half-naked in front of someone who treated him so casually.

The man was trying to be gentle. Aziraphale could tell. His slim fingers peeled away the bandages, making sure not to agitate the skin beneath it. Yet it flared angrily with pain as the man attempted to take off the bandages.

Even though it wasn’t the case, Aziraphale felt like his skin was being pulled off. Like he was being stabbed all over again. It only got worse when he started to clean the damaged area. Aziraphale attempted to stay as still as possible but found himself squirming and flinching away from the touch. Tears even filled his eyes, though he tried so very hard to fight them off.

Luckily, he was able to relax a few minutes later as the man started to wrap new bandages around his middle. No longer concentrated on the pain, Aziraphale found himself watching the man. He was a vision. Light filtered through his fiery lashes and his eyes were focused on the task at hand. His nose was long and slightly crooked. His lips were chapped and Aziraphale briefly wondered how the skin there would feel. Aziraphale couldn’t help but be mesmerized watching the man work.

“Alright, angel, you’re all patched up,” The man said with a grin, finally looking back up at Aziraphale. The prince could feel his face heating up slightly from the sudden attention.

“I do have a name you know,” he huffed, shooting the man a glare. The stranger just raised his eyebrows as if prompting him to continue. “It’s Aziraphale.”

“Well, Aziraphale. I’m Crowley,” The man, Crowley, gathered up the bandages, putting the clean ones back into his medical bag. “Thought you wouldn’t be so fussy after I saved your life and all.” The man teased. Aziraphale felt his stomach sink slightly. He was right, Aziraphale should be extremely appreciative. He’d always been taught to be grateful for others’ help. Yet here he was giving Crowley a hard time.

“I… I apologize Mr. Crowley.” Aziraphale said, embarrassed at his slip in decorum.

“Just Crowley is fine. No need for daft titles like that.” Crowley chuckled, standing up to return the medical bag from where he had retrieved it. “Oh, and you oughta know you’ve been out for five days or so.”

“Five days!?” Aziraphale screeched. The horror of it made his blood run cold. He had been missing for five whole days in some land he didn’t know. He supposed he was lucky the man who found him even spoke the same language. How far out to sea had he been? What directions had the tide dragged him in? He just hoped he wasn’t too far from his kingdom.

“Yup. You must be starving, yeah? I’ve got stew I can brew up,” Crowley said, completely unphased by Aziraphale’s shock. But Aziraphale didn’t at all hear what the man was saying

“Oh God- I… Mother must be beside herself. I must get back home right away!” Aziraphale tried to stand but let out a cry when any sort of shifting caused the pain in his side to flare up horribly. Tears formed in his eyes. He’d always led a privileged life. As such, he wasn’t accustomed to wounds of any kind, let alone ones that ran so deep.

“Woah there calm down,” Crowley said, rushing to his side and offering an arm to help support Aziraphale. He hesitantly took the offered arm and carefully stood with all his weight leaning to his left. Crowley sighed and shook his head. Carefully, he half lifted Aziraphale to relax him back into the sofa. The prince had no clue how on earth Crowley managed to hold his weight.

“Look, you have places to be, but you can’t even stand up! Let alone travel. You’ll just open up your wounds again and end up bleeding out. Don’t be an idiot about it, yeah?” Crowley chastised. He shot Aziraphale a glare before returning to the kitchenette.

Aziraphale certainly wasn’t used to someone speaking to him in such a tone. The only ones that dared reprimand him at the palace were his mother and old tutor. Everyone else simply tiptoed around him, not having the audacity to insult a prince. But always being put on a pedestal was tiring. He was still a human after all, not anything more.

“Right… right I apologize again, my dear. I’m still quite out of sorts I suppose.” Crowley snorted at that. Aziraphale fiddled with his hands, unsure of what else he could say.

“It’s alright. Don’t beat yourself up over it. Let’s get some food in you,” Crowley insisted, giving Aziraphale another one of those beautiful crooked smiles. Aziraphale stared in awe momentarily, unsure of how to deal with someone so very lovely. He didn’t get reprimanded or teased or bossed around normally. But he wouldn’t put up much of a fight with Crowley.

Only because he saved his life though! Definitely not because the prince kept getting lost in those lovely honey eyes.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale watched as Crowley moved through the kitchen with ease. Despite how messy the area looked, it seemed more so organized chaos than complete mayhem. The prince pulled the rough blanket tighter around himself. He was cold and wished he had a shirt. But the clothes he had been wearing were nowhere in sight and the last thing he wanted to do was bother the man who saved his life.

Yet Crowley seemed perfectly comfortable showing most of his bare skin. His arms were pale with freckles covering them like constellations. Crowley’s pants sat low on his hips while his shirt was shorter than it should have been. As a result, most of his midsection and lower back were exposed. Aziraphale found himself transfixed by the lean muscles of Crowley’s back. He shouldn’t be staring. It was insanely rude and very unlike the prince to be acting in such a shameful way. Yet in some unexplainable way, Crowley was alluring.

When Crowley looked back to Aziraphale, the injured man quickly looked away. His face became rather heated from the embarrassment of being caught staring. What on earth was he doing? He certainly wasn’t in his right mind.

“You still doing alright over there Aziraphale?” Aziraphale could have sworn he heard a smirk in Crowley’s voice.

“I’m just fine really. Tickety boo.” Aziraphale said quickly, hoping that he didn’t look as embarrassed as he felt. Crowley laughed, loud and full of mirth. It was nearly contagious, causing Aziraphale to smile as well.

“Tickety boo? Can’t say I’ve heard that one before,” Crowley said, still grinning widely. “Where are you from anyway? Can’t be around here.”

Aziraphale was still reluctant to speak about his status. With the state he was in, injured and unable to move much without assistance, he would rather keep his identity secret for now.

“Certainly not,” Aziraphale said with an awkward laugh, not explaining further. He avoided Crowley’s gaze before the man finally got the hint and changed the subject.

“So, how’d you end up floating in the ocean anyway?” Crowley asked, occasionally glancing at the pot he had on the single burner stove. He had already put in all the ingredients for the stew.

“It’s a rather long tale. I doubt you’d want to hear me prattle on.” Aziraphale, smiling awkwardly. In turn, Crowley leaned against the counter, now fully facing Aziraphale from across the room.

“I’m not so busy that I can’t listen to you ‘prattle’,” Crowley said, a genuinely amused smile playing across his face. It was soft and made something well up inside of Aziraphale’s stomach that he’d never felt before.

But he pushed that feeling down. Instead, he took a deep breath and started to explain what happened to him. At least, an abridged version of the story. He explained that it was his first voyage. That his mother had always been afraid of him going out to sea. Turned out she had a right to worry. Though he left out the fact that the ship was his and that he was on his way to a diplomatic conference. The mutiny was brought up as well, but he didn’t tell Crowley why the crew had been trying to kill him. Crowley silently listened. When Aziraphale finished, Crowley just stared at him for a few moments.

“Just doesn’t make sense is all,” Crowley mumbled just loud enough for Aziraphale to hear. He turned away from Aziraphale to start filling up bowls with the stew. Aziraphale swallowed thickly. He supposed there was only so much he could hide.

“What doesn’t make sense?” Aziraphale could feel his voice shaking, though he tried to steady it. As Crowley walked over, he studied Aziraphale’s face, looking for something in his expression. Aziraphale could feel his facade cracking under his gaze.

But then Crowley looked away. The prince felt relief. He handed Aziraphale a bowl of stew and pulled up a chair to sit beside the sofa where he lay.

“Nothing,” Crowley said, simply accepting Aziraphale’s explanation without any additional questions.

They ate in silence for a few short minutes. Everything that had happened since he woke up felt so surreal to him. As if it were simply a dream. But of course, it wasn’t. Aziraphale doubted even the most imaginative minds could conjure up someone as stunning as the man before him. But he couldn’t stay in some dream world. He needed to return to reality.

“I really do appreciate your hospitality, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, looking the man in the eye. “I do need to be leaving though. I must return home as soon as I possible.” Crowley looked at Aziraphale, fixing the prince a look he couldn’t quite read.

“Look, I know you probably need to get home and all that, but you can’t travel in your condition. At least wait till you’re healed up more. The last thing you need is to push yourself and keel over. Or worse yet, get that stab wound infected.” Crowley said sternly, not seeming to take no for an answer.

“Oh, but I couldn’t possibly impose-” Crowley waved him off before Aziraphale could finish his sentence.

“Are you kidding me? Impose?” There was a bit of frustration creeping into his voice now. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look Aziraphale, if I thought you were imposing I wouldn’t have dragged you out of that water. Or patched you up or fed you.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true…” Aziraphale trailed off. He still felt guilty. For using up Crowley’s time and supplies. For needing to be taken care of. And for his poor mother who by now likely thought he was dead.

“If,” Crowley cut himself off and sighed. He gave Aziraphale a sympathetic look. “If you wanted to I could help you send a letter to your family. At least they’d know you’re alive.” Crowley offered. The affection and care in his voice spilled over into his lovely golden eyes. Aziraphale felt his heart warm at the offer. He couldn’t help the feeling of fondness blooming in his chest. Nothing he could do would ever lead him to deserve such a compassionate savior.

“Thank you, Crowley,” Aziraphale smiled, reaching out to give Crowley’s hand a light squeeze before quickly retracting it.

They continued to eat and talk. Aziraphale had many questions of his own for the stranger. He asked about the plants and the collections of objects. Crowley rambled on a bit about the plants. It was partly a hobby, party his food source. Any extra he had he would dry or sell at the village market nearby. Crowley also loved collecting things he found. Especially items that were vintage and could be worth money. Eventually, he started buying things to resell and that was how he made a living.

Yet, as Crowley rambled on about some of his favorite refurbishing projects, Aziraphale found his mind wandering. He tried to remember that night on the ship. There were still holes in his memory, pieces of the story that were missing. Aziraphale didn’t know how he washed up on shore. The ship had been far from any land. Michael wouldn’t have been so naive as to do what she did anywhere near civilization. God forbid she got caught murdering the prince of all people.

None of it added up. Aziraphale, by all reason, should have been dead.

"You alright Aziraphale?" Crowley asked, taking his wrist to get the prince's attention. The touch more than the words pulled Aziraphale out of his thoughts. He looked up at Crowley. That crimson hair framed his face so nicely. And those golden eyes, Aziraphale knew he'd seen them before. Glowing somewhere in a bottomless darkness.

"Crowley… How did you find me?" Aziraphale asked slowly, trying to put together pieces to a puzzle he didn’t know. He couldn’t be certain that his brain wasn’t mixing things up.

“You uh… you washed up on the beach.” Crowley pulled his hand back slowly. His eyes looked far away, as though he weren’t quite looking at Aziraphale. It was an expression the prince couldn’t read “I didn’t think you’d make it when I first saw you. Lucky you even woke up really.”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he believed him. There was something he was hiding. And yet, who was Aziraphale to question him? This man had saved his life. Not to mention that Aziraphale wasn’t being entirely candid himself. Maybe Crowley’s reason for doing so was to protect himself as well.

“Right, quite lucky it seems,” Aziraphale mumbled, breaking eye contact with the man. He tried to think of something to change the subject, to take away the strange air between them. Yet his mind came up blank.

“It’s getting late, you should get some rest,” Crowley said after a few beats of silence. He stood, taking Aziraphale’s now empty bowl and bringing it to the sink.

For a moment the prince was confused. Certainly, he had only been awake for a few hours. Yet, he noticed the light was no longer filtering through the windows as it had before. It wasn’t dark quite yet, but it wouldn’t be long until darkness filled in the space around them.

Aziraphale tried to settle into the sofa but found it quite difficult to do so. The cushions were dense and the blanket felt more like a tarp. Not to mention the lack of a shirt left him with a chill.

“Ah yes um, I hate to ask so much of you. You’ve been so very kind to me.” Aziraphale said worriedly. He was trying not to think about the fact that he had been shirtless the entire time. That Crowley had likely seen nearly all of him while he’d been unconscious.

“‘M not kind,” Crowley said shortly. Somehow the comment seemed to have hit a nerve. But before Aziraphale could let worry flood into his mind, Crowley turned to look back at Aziraphale. “What did you need?”

“Would you happen to have more than just the blanket by chance? I’m starting to get a chill.” Aziraphale said. Crowley’s expression softened a bit and he smiled. It was that same fondness as before. One that seemed so unfamiliar to the prince. No one looked at him like that.

“‘Course angel,” Crowley said the endearment with such a sweet tone that it made Aziraphale’s face warm instantly. The man left the room for only a moment before returning with another blanket. This one was made from furs and by far more comfortable than the first one. As he tucked it around Aziraphale’s sides, he was careful not to disturb the wound. Aziraphale tried with little success, to ignore how close they suddenly were.

“Anything else?” Crowley asked, face not half a meter away. Aziraphale could see all the little details in his features. There were faint crow's feet in the corner of his lovely eyes. And indeed, no one should have such a dashing smile. For a moment Aziraphale wondered what it would be like to-

Oh no no, he couldn’t possibly think in such a way. Aziraphale mentally scolded himself for having yearning thoughts about a stranger. One who was still hiding something.

“No no everything is wonderful,” Aziraphale insisted, trying to ignore how close Crowley was and the ‘angel’ echoing in his head. “I um… I suppose I’ll see you in the morning then?” He asked, almost too hopeful. He sounded like an idiot.

“Oh uh, actually I’ve gotta be somewhere in the morning. Probably won’t get back till mid-day.” Crowley said. The same awkwardness Aziraphale felt was slipping into Crowley’s tone as well. “I’ll leave some food for you though! Oh and books. I’ve got some around here if you read. Might get itchy laying around all day.” Crowley said, fumbling with his words a bit. At the mention of books, Aziraphale’s thoughts vanish. He always loved a good book. It was one of the few things that stopped his mind from endlessly wandering to strange places.

“That sounds lovely dear,” Aziraphale said softly, not intending for the endearment to slip into his words. He didn’t notice the hint of pink forming on Crowley’s cheekbones.

“Good. Well,” Crowley looked around for a moment as if there was something else he wanted to say. Something that sat on the tip of his tongue. “Goodnight angel,” Crowley flashed Aziraphale another one of those smiles before quickly going down the corridor across from where Aziraphale lay.

The prince tried not to let the ‘angel’ slip into his dreams that night. He failed quite spectacularly at that.

Chapter Text

The following days were mostly filled with conversations and books. Crowley had an entire bookshelf that Aziraphale was steadily making his way through. Many were old, and some had sewn binding proving that someone had mended them at one time. They were very different from his books back at the palace, pristine with leather covers. Regardless, Aziraphale loved them.

But he had already gone through about half of the books in Crowley’s possession within the last week. The stories were intriguing but it turned out there was only so much he could read before getting restless. If he were still home, the idea would seem completely absurd. But he wasn’t able to get around the cottage without assistance from Crowley. Thus, most days he was stuck on the uncomfortable sofa, reading through a pile of books.

His days had become routine. Crowley would be gone until early afternoon, always having left any necessities Aziraphale may need within his reach. Each day a new pile of books lay beside his place on the sofa. When Crowley returned, he would clean and rewrap Aziraphale’s wounds with new bandages. Usually, this would be accompanied by Crowley’s rambling. Aziraphale would just watch him in silence, unable to keep his eyes off of the man. After he finished with Aziraphale’s wounds, he would make lunch. After they ate, Crowley usually would work on one of his refurbishments or care for his plants while Aziraphale read some more.

The evenings were more entertaining. Most nights they would talk for hours over dinner and wine. Crowley had taken to asking Aziraphale a lot of questions about his home and life before. Aziraphale would ask questions in turn but usually got a more guarded response. Crowley could talk about his own life, but never spoke of any friends or family. Nor his past, though Aziraphale could understand that much. But Aziraphale could only imagine how lonely it would be not to have anyone. Even as a prince with barely anyone to talk to in his daily life, he at least had his mother, brother, and a few close servants to keep him company.

Thinking about them made Aziraphale’s heart ache though. He wished he could tell his mother that he was safe, that he would be coming home. If only he could tell his brother of the traitorous actions of his captain Michael. He spoke of them to Crowley, usually after a glass or two of wine. He rambled on about his mother’s lovely garden. How he hoped Crowley could see it one day. His mother had always treasured her plants as much as she did her children. On one particular night, Aziraphale spoke of how protective his mother had always been of him. How it sometimes felt a little suffocating. Crowley hadn’t said much that night and simply allowed Aziraphale to speak.

He spoke of his older brother Gabriel as well. Aziraphale always looked up to him. Even when Aziraphale felt out of place, his brother was there, and always supported him. Finance, diplomacy, and even wielding a sword were all skills Aziraphale had learned from Gabriel. Though he certainly didn’t have as much of a knack for finance or swordplay as his brother. Aziraphale missed him so.

He longed for his home with its sprawling halls and enormous windows. Ivy climbed up the old stone gates. Gold adorned light fixtures and sconces. Crystals dangled from the ceilings of nearly half of the rooms. And of course the lovely view of the ocean and his city from his library. A library filled to the brim with every book Aziraphale could ever hope to have in his possession. Many of which were first editions of respected authors. As much as he hated to admit it, the prince was very much used to luxury. Not that he would ever complain about the hospitality and kindness Crowley showed him.

There was a knock at the door. Aziraphale perked up, unable to help his elation to see Crowley walking in the door. He was much earlier than usual.

“Afternoon angel!” Crowley cheered as he stepped into the cottage “Did you miss me?” Aziraphale could hear the teasing in his tone and he rolled his eyes. How Crowley loved to tease him. It was becoming quite the habit. He should find it quite bothersome. Yet between the teasing and the nicknames, Aziraphale enjoyed the affection more than he should.

“Hardly,” Aziraphale huffed, “I had plenty of company with the books you left for me this morning.” This was mostly inaccurate. He had found himself getting bored, even with the collection of books. He was restless, antsy. Aziraphale always yearned for adventure, but now he yearned to do just about anything. Crowley helped of course. Their conversations kept him occupied and made him genuinely happy. It wasn’t often he was able to be himself around another person. Actually… it may have been the first time Aziraphale was able to fully be himself without the air of royalty and status clouding his interactions.

“Oh well, I guess you don’t want your present then?” Crowley smirked, still standing in the doorway. He was holding something behind his lean frame so Aziraphale couldn’t see.

“I never said that,” Aziraphale mumbled, feeling embarrassment from all of Crowley’s light mocking.

Crowley finally stepped into the room, holding out his gift for the prince. It took him a moment to realize what they were. Crutches. The wooden frames were slightly bent and well-used, but they seemed sturdy enough. Just the idea of being able to move around, to go outside and feel the sun on his face, made a grin break out on Aziraphale’s face.

Crowley grinned in return, proud of himself for making Aziraphale smile so. It seemed to be a goal of his at any given moment to get some kind of reaction out of the prince. Whether that be a smile, a blush, or a huff of annoyance.

“Like ‘em? I figured your wounds have been healing up pretty well. Plus, I can’t imagine you enjoy being on a sofa most of the day.” Crowley helped adjust Aziraphale into a more upright position. He placed the crutches under Aziraphale’s arms and assisted the prince in hoisting himself up onto his feet.

Aziraphale was shaky, to say the least. His side ached from the movement, though not nearly as bad as it had been. Getting up on the crutches was difficult. First of all, he wasn’t used to being on his feet anymore. Being bedridden for as long as he had been had taken much of the strength from his legs.

Secondly, Crowley holding him upright did funny things to his stomach. They were far too close. Not to mention the fact that Crowley was apparently a good half a head taller than the prince. He hadn’t noticed before. It was the perfect height for Aziraphale to lean onto his shoulder if he so desired. But a prince should not desire such things.

“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale breathed, unable to take his eyes away from the man before him. They stayed that way for a moment before Crowley gave his arms one last squeeze and pulled away. Part of Aziraphale missed the contact once it was gone.

Crowley cleared his throat.

“I thought maybe you’d want to go down by the water. Since you mentioned missing the ocean and all. I mean, ‘s not really the same but at least you could get some fresh air.” Crowley wouldn’t quite look at Aziraphale as he spoke. But the sweetness of the gesture was not lost in the awkwardness. Aziraphale felt an odd weight in his chest, one he’d only ever felt around Crowley.

“That would be lovely,” Aziraphale hummed, slowly taking his time in moving towards the door. The crutches weren’t quite the right size. Just on the edge of being too long for his legs. But he still managed to clunkily make his way to the door. Crowley stayed close by as if to make sure Aziraphale wouldn’t fall over, grabbing a bag before they left the cottage.

They slowly made their way through the sand, which was quite difficult to traverse with crutches as it so turned out. Crowley had been right about the shore being fairly close to his home, yet the distance felt enormous. It took a lot of concentration to not fall flat on his face.

Though he miserably failed at his attempt. A particularly soft part of the sand caused the crutch to fall out from under him. Aziraphale closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to flare up in his side as he hit the ground.

Instead, there were steady arms wrapped around his middle, shaking slightly with his weight. Aziraphale opened his eyes to see gold reflected back. How had he always managed to end up so very close to those eyes, he could never say. It was as if the universe had it out for him, wanting him to melt away from the sheer intensity of Crowley’s gaze. His face flashed with concern, and worry lines formed between his brows.

“Damn angel, you gotta be more careful!” The prince’s stomach made a sweeping feeling. He couldn’t dwell too much on it though.

“R-right! My apologies,” Aziraphale let out a nervous chuckle, feeling his face heat up at the closeness. Crowley sighed and helped Aziraphale back up again, not letting go of his side as they got closer to where the sand meets the sea.

They found a cozy spot, just far enough away that the water wouldn’t reach them. Aziraphale adjusted with Crowley’s help. It was hard to ignore the pain in his side, but he did his best.

Crowley had such a lovely home, and the ocean was the deepest blue Aziraphale had ever seen. The water crashed into the sand, creating white foam that would soon dissipate. The salty air filled Aziraphale’s lungs. The sun felt warm on his skin. It was something he hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. If he closed his eyes, he could almost convince himself that he was home again.

“Got another gift for you angel,” He could hear the smile in Crowley’s voice once again. Turning to the man sitting beside him, he noticed Crowley holding up a bottle of wine and two glasses for said wine. Aziraphale grinned wide enough that it almost hurt.

“Isn’t it a bit early for wine, dear?” Aziraphale asked, leveling Crowley with a judgemental look. Yet there was no weight behind it. Crowley simply chuckled and waved off Aziraphale’s comment.

“‘S never too early for wine angel,” Crowley teased, pouring them each a glass of wine and handing one to the prince. Aziraphale gratefully took the wine, taking a deep swig right away.

“Rough day?” Crowley asked, taking a few sips of his own wine. Aziraphale shook his head. Life had been anything but arduous as of late. Crowley had taken such good care of him. He changed his bandages, fed him, and even brought him gifts. It was more than any stranger should do for another. Yet there was a kindness to Crowley, one that was rarely seen.

“Not particularly,” Aziraphale said, leaning back to look up at the sky. Gulls flew overhead, dancing among the few clouds that hung above. The sky looked so bright. “I always loved the sea you know. Mother used to take my brother and I when I was quite small.”

“Yeah?” From the corner of his eye, he could see Crowley looking at him. “Did you stop going when you got older or something?” Aziraphale looked away from the sky to meet Crowley’s eyes once again. They sat so very close to one another. They always seemed to end up close to one another, causing strange feelings to arise within the prince. I had to have simply been because he is so unaccustomed to closeness. As a prince, people usually kept their distance out of formality.

He took another deep drink from his wine.

“Yes, actually. Gabriel, my brother, was much older than me you see. He went into the military by the time I reached the age of 10. After that, we never really did much as a family.” Aziraphale explained. Some familiar softness filled Crowley’s expression. Yet a profound sadness seemed to be right under the surface of his gaze.

“But of course that is to be expected I suppose,” Aziraphale said, dismissing the ache in his heart. “I miss those times though. Life was so much simpler as a child.”

A silence hung between them, but it wasn’t tense or uncomfortable. It held an understanding. An acknowledgment of the truth; that there were times not so long ago when everything was straightforward. Aziraphale often wished things stayed that way. But then he never would have ended up in this place. He never would have met Crowley. And despite all the agony that he faced to meet him, part of Aziraphale was grateful for having met the man.

“I’m sorry that you ended up so far from home,” Crowley said, voice soft with a vulnerability the prince couldn’t place. “You’ve gone through so damn much for no good reason.”

He reached out and took Aziraphale’s free hand. A fluttering feeling spread out from Aziraphale’s chest to the tips of his fingers at the warmth of the man’s hand. Certainly, it was the wine getting to him. A gentle squeeze then brought a smile to Aziraphale’s face. Without thinking, he leaned into Crowley, allowing his head to rest on his shoulder.

Yes, the wine was definitely getting to him. He shouldn’t have drunk so quickly. Yet he felt so very warm and comfortable where he was pressed against Crowley.

“I met you though. If I hadn’t I would surely be dead,” Aziraphale looked up at Crowley. There was a dusting of pink on the man’s cheeks. It looked so very lovely as a background for the endless freckled scattered about his cheekbones. “I couldn’t ever hope to repay you for everything you’ve done for me, Crowley.”

His words dripped with more sincerity than he had ever spoken before.

“Don’t worry about it angel,” Crowley said, removing his hand from Aziraphale’s and instead wrapping it around the prince’s shoulders. Aziraphale closed his eyes, drinking in the warmth of Crowley beside him.

Chapter Text

The first few days of walking with the crutches were difficult, to say the least. Using them for any length of time would cause Aziraphale’s arms to ache. Not to mention that moving around still caused a sharp feeling in his side. But day by day he was healing. Enough to the point where he could go to the shore while Crowley was gone. Most days he did, if only just to get fresh air and feel the sand on his aching feet

Aziraphale found himself getting much closer to Crowley as the days went on. Casual touch and closeness were starting to become more comfortable for Aziraphale. He even found himself enjoying such things more than he’d like to admit.

Though the feelings associated with such an informal relationship left Aziraphale completely lost. He’d never been close to another person like he was with Crowley. He never had someone vent to him about their day or drink wine with him without having a political discussion. Despite his best efforts, he found himself opening up to Crowley. It was a dangerous line to dance around though. There were many dangers of telling anyone about his status.

“You doing alright over there angel?” Crowley called from across the room, turning back from his cooking to look at the prince. A peaceful silence had settled between them a few minutes previous.

“Yes of course my dear,” Aziraphale said, smiling at the man. Crowley smiled back at him before returning to what he had been doing.

Some part of his brain wondered if he should truly trust Crowley. In his head were the anxieties and caution his mother drilled into him from a young age. There were few people Aziraphale ever trusted. Well, really only two people: his mother and brother.

Even though only a fortnight had passed, Aziraphale felt like he knew Crowley. Or at least some facets of him. He knew about Crowley’s hobbies, about his complaints regarding the locals. Especially a Mr. Shadwell who Crowley seemed particularly miffed about on a regular basis. He knew there was a young woman named Anathema from whom Crowley bought books from. He learned that Crowley was a wonderful cook and gardener. That he would get lost in thought while he worked, staring off with a faint smile on his lips.

Aziraphale could describe the warmth of Crowley’s fingers, his gentleness. He had memorized the exact shade of those wondrous eyes and the way his hair would become ablaze in the late afternoon sun. From his voice alone, Aziraphale could tell what mood Crowley was in. Could even sense the smiles and frowns in his tone. He knew how Crowley loved to poke fun at him, but never took it too far. How his kindness reached much farther than Aziraphale’s ever could. Crowley’s heart was made to care for others more than he’d ever admit.

Crowley pulled Aziraphale from his thoughts yet again, placing a plate of food before the prince. They had moved a few plants to allow room for them each to eat. As his hand pulled away, his fingers brushed Aziraphale’s.

Crowley looked at Aziraphale. Oh, how those eyes could make a man melt. All molten fire and liquid stars. Aziraphale could stare into them for ages if it weren’t so improper.

“Thank you again darling,” Aziraphale said softly, watching as Crowley retreated, though not very far. He sat in the chair beside Aziraphale, turned in a way that he could face him.

“Don’t mention it. You always seem to enjoy my cooking anyway,” He teased, a smirk spreading across his lovely face. There was so much fondness in his expression, especially over the last few days.

Yet there was something out of sight that Aziraphale knew was there. He knew how hypocritical it was to expect Crowley to divulge his deepest secrets. But Aziraphale had always been a dreadfully curious person. A trait that quite nearly killed him. Perhaps some sayings were spoken for a reason.

“I was wondering if I might join you on one of your trips to the village,” It wasn’t as if Aziraphale needed permission, but he hoped that Crowley would be happy to spend time with him. But maybe such thoughts were mere dreams.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley sighed, worrying his bottom lip. He looked as if he were considering something before he spoke once again. He wouldn’t look into Aziraphale’s eyes as he spoke. “You’re not healed enough.”

It sounded like an excuse. Aziraphale could plainly see Crowley retract from him. Watched as walls slowly built up.

“Oh my dear I will be just fine,” Aziraphale insisted, placing a hand on Crowley’s and holding it there. “I’ve been able to get around plenty on my own. And you’ve made me dreadfully curious of this Miss Anathema.”

The woman who Crowley bought his books from sounded like an eccentric young lady. Fiery and stubborn in her demeanor, from how Crowley had described her.

Crowley rolled his eyes a the comment, chuckling.

“You’re not going to tell me you’re secretly some sort of Casanova, are you?” Crowley teased, to which Aziraphale feigned offense.

“I certainly don’t glavant around enticing innocent women, if that is what you’re implying,” Aziraphale huffed.

“Oh, but I’m sure you’d be good at it angel,” The words rolled off Crowley’s tongue like a purr. It made a warmth quake through Aziraphale’s body. It had become a new sensation over the past days, one he welcomed.

“You seem more a tempter than I could ever be,” Aziraphale leaned closer to Crowley, giving what he hoped to be a charming smile.

He felt a small amount of pride when Crowley seemed off balance for a moment, letting roses bloom against his skin. He looked quite nice with such an expression. But before he could say anything else, Crowley sat up quickly and there was a coldness where their hands had once met.

“If you want to go then we might as well go now. Besides it will be dark by the time we get there,” He flashes another one of those smirks Aziraphale’s way.

“I beg your pardon!” Aziraphale tried to sound annoyed, but couldn’t help the grinning. “If you’re going to complain you’ll just have to carry me.” Crowley laughed, a deep laugh coming from his belly. It was real and honest and made Aziraphale’s insides twist.

*****

Crowley hadn’t been lying about the distance. The village was a few kilometers away, proving to be more of a challenge than Aziraphale had expected. He expected Crowley to tease him about his pace. But he allowed Aziraphale to rest however much he needed without any protest. In fact, he insisted Aziraphale take a break when he noticed the prince growing weary.

When they finally reached the village square, Aziraphale was in awe. The streets weren’t bustling like that of the cities, but everyone seemed to be outside. Shops had open doors and stalls were set up for craftsmen such as Crowley to sell their wares. Children ran around the streets playing all kinds of games. Everyone was smiling, welcoming each person as if they were family.

His own city was nothing of the sort. People were always far too busy to give anyone else even a glance. So absorbed in their own lives that greeting a stranger didn’t even cross their minds. Many of them were far too rich to care about others either. Boasting their extravagance with their clothes and jewelry.

Aziraphale had always felt so out of place there. He was never the bragging type. Never one to keep up with fashion. He always wore rather old clothes that filled the need for comfort rather than excess.

Crowley took Aziraphale anywhere he wanted to go. All the shops welcomed Crowley as a friend and were no less kind to Aziraphale. It felt odd to be surrounded by people who had no clue who he was. Who simply treated him kindly because of who they were rather than for who Aziraphale was.

“Hey, angle come here!” Crowley called from one of the stalls. The seller had flowers and plants of all kinds, though not quite as lovely as some of Crowley’s own plants. Aziraphale made his way over, careful not to trip over his crutches as he did so.

Crowley was grinning and held up a wreath of flowers. They were various shades of blues and golds.

“What do you think?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale grew red, imagining the crimson of Crowley’s hair beautifully contrasting with the blues. The yellows would compliment his eyes wonderfully, making them even more striking.

“They’re absolutely lovely,” Aziraphale hummed, feeling a little breathless. Crowley tossed a coin to the woman before tugging Aziraphale close. They were centimeters away, breath mingling together. Aziraphale could feel the arrhythmic beats of his heart when Crowley smiled down at him.

Before Aziraphale could think or move, Crowley placed the wreath of flowers atop Aziraphale’s head. He brushed a stray curl away that fell in Aziraphale’s face and grinned.

“Yeah, they are pretty lovely huh?” Crowley said, obviously pleased with himself. He turned away from Aziraphale, walking over to the next stall as if nothing had happened. For a brief moment, all Aziraphale could feel was the thumping of his heart against his ribcage.

After being frozen for a moment, Aziraphale caught up to Crowley. The other smiled back at him. Though his eyes lingered a little longer than they probably should have.

Everything Crowely was doing seemed to strike something within Aziraphale. Something that all the luxuries in the world could not hope to replicate. Yet it was so unfamiliar to the prince, so new. It was an appreciation for everything Crowley had done. It was the joy he felt when they talked, the comfort of his presence. And even then, those words could not fully describe the feelings Aziraphale had welling up in his chest. He not only enjoyed their time, he looked forward to it. In a way, he yearned for contact.

He paused by another stall. It had strange military items for sale and was run by a scruffy old man. He looked to be a sailor if the harpoons for sale were anything to go by.

“Yur interested in the hunt laddy?” The man asked in a thick accent. Aziraphale furrowed his brows in confusion.

“The… hunt? Apologies but what do you mean?” Aziraphale asked, curiosity peeked.

“Fur the great sea witches!” The man yelled sternly “They’re all ‘round us boy, trying to seduce sailors into the sea. Seen ‘em with my own eyes, I have!”

Before Aziraphale could make heads or tails of what the man was going on about, he felt a strong grip on his upper arm. It was almost to the point of hurting. He turned to see Crowley. He had such a strange expression on his face. Like he was on edge about something.

“Mr. Shadwell we’re not interested,” Crowley said through gritted teeth. Aziraphale didn’t even have the chance to respond before Crowley was leading him away.

They walked beside each other quietly. Crowley still had a tight grip on Aziraphale’s arms, to the point where Aziraphale could feel him shaking slightly. Worry filled him. He had never seen Crowley so on edge before. The gold of his eyes was now a dim storm. As if he were in some distant land rather than his own village.

“My dear, are you alright?” Aziraphale asked, stopping in his tracks. Crowley doesn’t realize right away that he spoke and only looked to the prince when his steps froze.

Crowley looked at Aziraphale with those eyes. He’d grown so accustomed to seeing them, but not like this. Not so far away. Not with exhaustion and worry in them.

“It’s…” Crowley looked back to the stall they had just left before shaking his head. He seemed to get himself more in order before turning his gaze back to Aziraphale. His eyes softened and he loosened his grip on the prince “Yeah, sorry I’m fine. Shadwell just gives me the creeps. He’s not all there upstairs if you know what I mean.” Crowley gave a humorless laugh.

“Right…” Aziraphale wasn’t convinced by the explanation but decided not to question it.

Crowley’s posture could only be described as stiff as they continued to go around to the shops. Aziraphale didn’t know what to make of it. It had seemed that in a matter of minutes, a switch had flipped. It was understandable that the man, Shadwell, was very strange indeed. But he had no clue why Crowley would be so put off by the man. He was odd sure, but didn’t seem dangerous.

There was a crash of something behind him. When Aziraphale turned around he saw Crowley with something shattered at his feet. He was frozen there, staring down at what looked to be a broken vase. It was as though he were in a trance.

And yet Aziraphale could see the man shaking from where he was a few meters away. He was about to say something, to grab Crowley’s attention. Before he could, Crowley ran. The prince, more confused than he had ever been, simply watched him run, dashing into an alleyway nearby. Concern flooded into him, wondering what on earth had scared him so much as to run off. What was he to do if not follow him?

It took longer than Aziraphale would have liked, but he made it to the alley. The crutches made it difficult to move very quickly but he did what he could. Before he even reached the tucked-away street, he could hear Crowley breathing. It was loud, labored. As if just taking in the air was the most difficult thing he could do.

And as he turned the corner, there he was. Golden eyes were wide with fear and his chest heaved as if it couldn’t take in nearly enough oxygen. He was hyperventilating.

“C-Crowley dear… what’s wrong?” Aziraphale asked, unsure of what to do. And yet it seemed that Crowley couldn’t hear him. Like his mind was off somewhere very far away.

Trying not to scare him, Aziraphale slowly crouched down in front of Crowley before carefully taking one of his hands. The touch sent a jolt through Crowley and he immediately looked up at Aziraphale. Carefully, slowly, Aziraphale reached up and brushed a stray tear away that had fallen down his cheek.

“It’s alright, you’re safe,” Aziraphale said, cause he frankly had no idea what else he could say. He had never comforted a person before. Not to mention he was entirely unsure of what was wrong in the first place. “Just um… breathe normally.”

That definitely didn’t seem to work. While Crowley attempted to ‘breathe normally’, it only exacerbated the issue. He gulped up the air in even larger breaths, somehow faster than before. All while staring at Aziraphale like he had seen a ghost.

“No no, um,” Oh he had to come up with something, anything. At this rate, Crowley was going to faint. And then Aziraphale would be completely useless. He couldn’t leave Crowley there by himself, and Aziraphale certainly couldn’t carry him given his own condition.

He looked down at Crowley’s hands before an idea came to him. He placed Crowley’s palm against his own chest, where he would be able to feel Aziraphale’s heartbeat. Feel the rise and fall of his chest.

“It’s alright dear,” Aziraphale said quietly, almost so quiet he wondered if Crowley could even hear him. “Breathe with me,” He gave exaggerated, but slow breaths. Ones that he knew Crowley would be able to follow. The hand on Aziraphale’s chest was warm and stiff, though slowly relaxed as Crowley listened to what Aziraphale had told him.

“That’s right darling, just slow breaths now. You’re okay,” Aziraphale insisted. Crowley only nodded, slowing his breaths even more until they were no longer labored and wheezing. His eyes were no longer distant, but trained on Aziraphale. Looking at him rather than through him.

Crowley let out what sounded almost like a sob before letting his head fall forward onto Aziraphale’s chest. For a moment, Aziraphale froze before he carefully brought his arms around Crowley in an embrace. Crowley’s hands were shaking still, fisted in Aziraphale’s shirt.

They stayed like that for some time. Neither daring to speak. Aziraphale held Crowley as the other shook and cried into his shoulder. He ran his fingers through Crowley’s long curls. It felt like the right thing to do at the moment. But he was confused as to what even happened. Crowley was uncomfortable around Mr. Shadwell but then he seemed fine enough afterward. Yet he clearly wasn’t. Aziraphale wanted to ask, of course, he did, but it seemed inappropriate to pry.

“’m sorry Aziraphale,” The prince wasn’t used to hearing his own name anymore. Crowley had taken to calling him angel more often than not. Yet the sound of his name in Crowley’s broken voice made his heart ache. He sounded so vulnerable and frail. Like a single gust of wind could blow him away without a moment’s notice.

“Crowley I’m not upset,” Aziraphale insisted, pulling away to look Crowley in the eye properly. He looked shaken up, but definitely better than he had been a few moments prior. “I’m just worried, that’s all.”

Crowley nodded and let out a long sigh. He reached up to the flower crown still sitting on Aziraphale’s head. They were so very close, mere centimeters away really. That sort of thing had been happening a lot lately. How Aziraphale wished he could close the distance. But it wasn’t the right time. Not now when Crowley seemed so tender.

“What happened?” Aziraphale asked, then immediately regretted it. He shouldn’t be cornering Crowley in such a way. “Apologies- you don’t have to explain. I mean, I would appreciate- but of course, I’m sure it’s none of my business and you shouldn’t have to-”

“Angel,” Crowley sighed, eyes set on something in the distance before meeting Aziraphale’s once more. “I can’t explain but-” another sigh before he seemed to have made up his mind on something. “I have to show you something. Just don’t… don’t say anything until I do alright?”

Aziraphale nodded slowly, unsure of how to take such a vague, almost ominous statement. Crowley got up and helped Aziraphale to his feet. They walked out of town and towards the cottage in silence.

Chapter Text

The flower crown had been lost somewhere in the commotion. Between helping Crowley and their journey back towards the cottage, it had been forgotten. Yet such things seemed entirely trivial with the new darkness that settled in Aziraphale’s chest.

He couldn't help the rushing thoughts in his mind. Aziraphale ran through the events over and over again, allowing his mind to concoct rather absurd notions. Even if he knew many things about Crowley, he hadn’t seen everything. What if Crowley truly was a bad person? What if he didn’t actually care about Aziraphale, instead having ulterior motives for helping him? What if everything his mother had told him about the dangers of the world were real? That there was truly no one he could trust.

And yet such thoughts were entirely false. No matter how many horrible people existed, there was also so much good in the world. Those who shared their kindness with others. Aziraphale wouldn’t consider himself to be a saint of any kind. He had lied to the man who had done so much for him. He hid so many parts of himself.

Yet everyone hides parts of themselves in the dark. Private dreams and desires they dare not speak aloud. Fears, insecurities, secrets; everyone had them. Aziraphale was a fool to believe that seeing the surface of a person meant that he knew them. Certainly, Crowley didn’t know him fully. So it was foolish not to assume the same for him.

Crowley didn't speak as they walked passed the cottage, which didn't help the anxieties from bubbling up within the prince. Aziraphale was worried about him, about what had upset him so much that he was unable to calm himself down. Aziraphale had never seen someone in such a state, and his heart yearned to make that pain go away.

Crowley was, in ways, a stranger. As much as the prince kept reminding himself of this fact, he couldn’t help but care for him. But there had been darkness in those usually bright eyes. A darkness that spoke of horrors that Aziraphale could never imagine. Ones that never could have touched him in the palace.

Aziraphale couldn’t place all of the emotions that swirled within him. He was guilty of hiding who he was, yet scared of Crowley’s own secrets. And wrapped in all that concern was true worry and care for the man. A man that his brain kept reminding him that he couldn’t trust. Everything seemed to contradict itself, leading to further spirals into madness.

Aziraphale started to feel an ache in his side as they continued walking. They had rested once or twice, but Aziraphale was in such deep thought that the idea of stopping only popped up once the pain flared up. He paused in his steps, nearly stumbling but managing to catch himself on the crutches. How had he not noticed he was out of breath?

“Shit- are you alright angel?” Crowley asked, rushing to Aziraphale’s side as he stumbled. Crowley helped to prop him up and the prince leaned into him. Aziraphale was exhausted at that point, which wasn’t exactly helping his unease.

“Ah yes, I’m fine my dear,” Aziraphale said, trying to show a brave face. However, he could tell by the look in Crowley’s eyes that he wasn’t being very convincing.

Crowley helped to hoist Aziraphale up, allowing the prince to put almost his full weight on the other. They didn’t walk much further before they finally stopped, having reached their destination.

It was tucked behind a cliff, where the rocks opened up into a large cavern with water that flowed in from the sea. The water settled against the rocks, being fairly shallow until the pool collided with the ocean. It felt private, intimate. Likely somewhere that few people knew about. The sunlight danced on the rippling of the ocean as it reached down toward the horizon. As if the stars themselves were tangled in the waves.

Crowley helped Aziraphale settle down onto one of the large rocks beside the water, though far enough away not to allow him to get splashed by the waves. Aziraphale, hesitant for Crowley's touch to leave, reached out and took his hand. He looked back at Aziraphale. Those lovely eyes had the sun itself reflected in them. And Crowley stood, hair glowing like a halo around him. Though his face was completely unreadable.

Crowley paused for a moment before sitting down beside Aziraphale. Aziraphale leaned a bit onto Crowley as he settled on the rocks. They sat there for a few minutes, just watching the water. Aziraphale allowed his head to rest on Crowley’s shoulder, their hands laced together.

“Are you okay?” Aziraphale asked after a few beats of silence. He already knew the answer. Of course, Crowley wasn’t alright. He’d been so very upset earlier, and surely walking around wouldn’t make those feelings disappear. But it seemed a better question than to ask why Crowley had become so distressed.

Crowley shifted a bit, seeming to take his time to think of an answer. His hand still lay in Aziraphale’s, though it shook slightly with nerves.

“No… but it’s not anything er- new really. I should be used to people like Shadwell by now. Still gets to me sometimes though.” Crowley admits, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. Aziraphale watched him, unsure of what to make of his words.

It felt so strange, the uselessness. Aziraphale could see the fear and worry in Crowley’s features, yet could do nothing to quell those feelings. Nothing he could say would give comfort.

Before Aziraphale could think of anything to say, Crowley’s hand let go of his own and he stood quickly. Crowley took a deep breath, trying to psych himself up for something before looking down at Aziraphale.

“I need you to turn around. And just… don’t look back until I tell you to okay? And uh, don’t freak out either.” Crowley sounded self-conscious in a way that really didn’t suit him. Crowley was usually so sure of himself, sauntering around as if nothing could touch him. Endlessly teasing Aziraphale in the most charming ways.

And under all of it was kindness. Genuine, whole-hearted kindness. To the point that Aziraphale knew he should trust Crowley. Because all he had ever done was care for Aziraphale. He needed to believe that whatever Crowley was going on with him would be explained. That he wasn’t going to hurt Aziraphale. The prince couldn’t allow the worries swirling in his mind to spill over.

“I promise I won’t dear,” Aziraphale said, trying to give Crowley what he hoped was an encouraging smile. He was trying to ignore the bubbling anxiety in his stomach as he turned away from Crowley, closing his eyes for good measure.

Aziraphale became hyper-aware of any sound he heard. Bare feet walked on the wet stone. Fabric shuffled as Crowley moved. His own breathing hitched in his throat while his heart pounded in his ears. All of this was accompanied by splashing water and the distant call of gulls.

When he felt a hand on his once again, he jolted. Of course, it was Crowley, but Aziraphale hadn’t expected it. Nor had he expected Crowley’s hand to be wet with seawater.

“You can turn around now,” Crowley nearly whispered, as if afraid to speak any louder. Aziraphale hesitated before turning to Crowley. And well, whatever he had been expecting was not what met his gaze.

Crowley was in the water, just at the edge of where Aziraphale sat. His torso was bare, leaving pale skin completely on display. Freckles dusted over his shoulders, arms, and across his delicate collarbones. His waist was slender too, adorned with an iridescent black where his skin ended.

Between Crowley’s waist and hips lay a scattering of black scales, eventually becoming continuous once they reached his hips. Instead of legs, under the water was a large tail, covered in those black scales and ending in a flowing fin. As the tail moved in the water, a shimmer of red reflected the light from the sun. It was truly beautiful, the red of Crowley’s tail complimented his crimson hair. Hair that spread out and danced in the waves of the ocean.

Aziraphale didn’t know if what he was seeing was real. How could it be? After all, sirens were myths. Tales from old sailors who had spent too much time out at sea. But as it turned out, that was a fabrication. A lie he had been told his whole life. Who was he to doubt something that was right before him?

Maybe he should have been afraid of Crowley. Worried that all those stories of men being eaten or lured to the ocean were true. But if they were, then Aziraphale would never have lived this long. Because if Crowley wanted to kill him or eat him, he would have done it when he was completely helpless in the middle of the ocean.

And besides all of that, Crowley was terrified. No monster would look upon its prey with such fear as if Aziraphale was the one who would eat him. Crowley was stock still, hand frozen as it stayed planted on Aziraphale’s. The prince could see the shake in his bones as he breathed. He looked like a frail frightened creature, ready to bolt at the instant there was danger. Certain things that Aziraphale found strange before were starting to make sense as pieces clicked together in his mind.

Crowley had always been cautious, never speaking of his past or any family. He had been terrified of Mr. Shadwell, who spoke of ‘sea witches’ and hunting them down. He kept up a facade of a charming and confident person when he deep down held just as many fears as Aziraphale did, if not more.

“It’s alright dear,” Aziraphale kept his voice low, though that didn’t stop Crowley from flinching when the prince spoke. Aziraphale had so many questions, so much he wanted to know. But the last thing he needed was to scare Crowley even more. “Is… this why you were upset earlier?” Crowley nodded slowly before taking a long, deep breath and finally speaking.

“I’m always careful. But… there have been a few times when I was nearly caught,” Crowley gestured to a large scar wrapped around his side from the front of his hip to his shoulder blades. It looked faded, likely at least a decade old. But it was jagged and uneven where the skin had healed. An ache pulled from deep within Aziraphale at the sight of such a wound.

“Nets are bloody awful,” Crowley mumbled, giving an awkward laugh.

“Pardon my asking but… why don’t you live in the ocean?” Aziraphale had no reference for such a question. Sirens had only ever been fairytales, stories told to young children and among sailors. Yet there was one right in front of him, as real as anything else. How was he to know how they lived? It seemed as though he suddenly knew nothing about the man in front of him.

“I uh…” Crowley trailed off, seeming overwhelmed by even one question. “My mother. She raised me on land. I learned a lot from her about where I came from but… we couldn’t go back there. Sirens, they,” Crowley tried to find the right words, “They don’t exactly get on with humans. Shunned my mum for choosing to live here.”

“That hardly seems fair,” Aziraphale said without thinking. It seemed cruel to cut off one’s own family for such a reason.

“Humans aren’t far off,” Crowley let out a bitter laugh as he spoke. Aziraphale bit his lip, looking away embarrassed. He supposed Crowley was right. Humans judged and shunned others for seemingly simple reasons too. Whether it be their etiquette or who they chose to marry. Aziraphale had always lived his life trying to keep up with a status given to him at birth.

“That is true. My apologies,” Aziraphale mumbled, refusing to look at Crowley. But Crowley shifted closer now, his apprehension seeming to slowly wane.

“You don’t need to apologize, angel,” When Aziraphale looked back, he saw that same soft expression Crowley tended to have with him. One that Aziraphale wished meant something, though he dared not imagine such things.

“What was she like? You’re mother I mean,” Aziraphale asked, trying to direct his thoughts away from the fond gaze that made the prince very much wish to kiss the man before him. Crowley smiled down at the water. He seemed to be reminiscing a pleasant memory.

“She was wonderful,” The words came out like a whisper of a summer breeze. A twinkling of wind chimes. “Kind to everyone, insanely smart. She was the one who taught me how to garden and how to fix things. Everything was beautiful to her and she always wished that we could live peacefully with humans. But that’s just not how things are.” His voice grew bitter and sad as he spoke.

“We always had rules. Don’t be seen, don’t let anyone know about us. They were supposed to protect us.” There was a heavy silence between them for a moment. While Crowley had relaxed some, a faraway look glazed over his eyes. As if he were reliving something traumatic. “She… died when I was 8. I’ve been living here ever since.”

Aziraphale tried to imagine it. A small child who was completely alone in the world. Never able to truly trust anyone else. Crowley had to hide who he was for years, so afraid of anyone finding out his identity. One wrong step, one toe out of line and he could have easily been killed by any number of people.

It must be an incredibly isolating feeling.

“You’ve been all alone… for that long?” Aziraphale asked in a whisper, hating the sound of his voice trembling. Tears threatened to form in his eyes but he tried to ignore them, to push them down. He didn’t have a right to cry in front of someone who had been through so much.

“I mean it wasn’t that bad,” Crowley laughed awkwardly, forcing a smile that wasn’t real. As if he were trying to convince even himself. “I got to do pretty much whatever I wanted. And mom taught me a lot too.”

Crowley wasn’t fooling Aziraphale though. He could see the pain in his eyes. He didn’t even have a family to confide in when things got rough. Every sorrow, every pain, he had to face entirely alone.

And even then, his heart became kind and soft to the world around him. Crowley had gone out of his way to save a man he didn’t even know. He went so far as to open up about secrets he’d never spoken of before.

A hand reached up, caressing Aziraphale’s cheek. The prince leaned into Crowley’s touch, allowing a stray tear to trail down his cheek.

“Angel there’s no need to cry over me. ‘M not worth that much.” Crowley insisted, giving a laugh that sounded sharp and hurt. Aziraphale shook his head. Before him was a vulnerable and broken man. Scared of the world, of being seen. Terrified that Aziraphale wouldn’t accept him as he was. And yet so very kind. Crowley truly had a heart of gold. One that Aziraphale wouldn’t have believed existed if it wasn’t for Crowley being right in front of him.

“You’re worth more than all the sapphires or diamonds in the kingdom,” Aziraphale’s voice dripped with a deep sincerity. He meant it. And there was so much more behind those words than he was able to speak aloud. Part of him hoped beyond hope that Crowley understood.

“Aziraphale, I’m not-”

“Yes you are,” Aziraphale insisted, cutting Crowley off before he could finish. “Crowley you’re… so wonderful. And kind, even if you claim not to be. You saved my life.” Aziraphale reached up to brush a strand of hair from Crowley’s face. “You’ve done more for me than just saving my life. And I will forever be grateful to have known you.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you any of this,” Crowley admitted, looking up at Aziraphale as if he had hung the very stars in the sky. A look that completely melted Aziraphale’s heart. “Guess I just hadn’t expected to like you so much.”

Aziraphale didn’t know what that meant, he couldn’t know for sure. But for one brief moment, he had courage. Maybe it was because of the vulnerability that Crowley showed him. Or maybe it was because his heart finally won out over his rationality.

But whatever the case was, Aziraphale leaned forward and pressed their lips together. Crowley was warm and soft and nearly melted from Aziraphale’s touch. He wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s shoulders lifting himself more out of the water to be closer to the prince. Their chests pressed close as Aziraphale’s heart hammered against his ribcage. Yet a relief flooded him.

Aziraphale didn’t know what it was like for the heavens to be born. For stars to collide and burst in beautiful arrays of light. He didn’t know what it was like for everything and nothing to exist in an infinite sky. The thought seemed entirely ridiculous. Yet that was the only comparison he could come up with for the feelings that burst from his chest.

Aziraphale was the first to pull back, though only about an inch to look Crowley in those enchanting eyes. Soft and sweet as honey. They panted, their breaths mingling together but neither of them wished to part further.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you angel,” Crowley teased, that awful wonderful smirk spreading wide across his face. Aziraphale chuckled, kissing Crowley once more. They melted together, allowing bliss to warm both of their hearts.

Chapter Text

The whole scene felt outlandish to Aziraphale. Crowley was pressed against him while Aziraphale allowed his legs to dangle in the water. Something about the wind had changed. Or maybe the sunlight felt just a little warmer on his skin. The scent of the ocean was possibly different, mixing in with that wonderfully botanic fragrance that always followed Crowley.

The feeling in his chest was different, too. There was a weightlessness inside him, one that made him feel as though he was surrounded by clouds. A slight catch in his breath left his lungs yearning for more.

In a way, he had bewildered himself. Not in his wildest imaginings would he have thought the courage to kiss Crowley would surface. Aziraphale had always been a bit of a coward, hiding behind the beauty of his books instead of facing the real problems in the world. It was easier not to reach out to something that might shatter with a single touch.

Most of all, he had never expected, nor dared to dream, that Crowley would return such advances. Even the thought that he may harbor the same feelings left him dizzy. Though he supposed a kiss could mean little to such a lovely and enchanting person. Crowley could be with anyone he wanted, after all. But the deepest parts of his heart yearned for Crowley to want only him.

“Are you getting lost in your head, angel?” Crowley asked, the pad of his thumb rhythmically brushing against Aziraphale’s jawline. It felt surreal. Sure, he had grown accustomed to Crowley’s touch. But this felt much more intimate, especially with how close they were.

“Oh, I suppose so,” Aziraphale breathed out, feeling his voice being pulled from him. An airy, threadbare sound, foreign despite coming from his own mouth. “I’ve grown so fond of you. I didn’t expect- I mean, I didn’t dare to assume…” Aziraphale bit his lip, cutting himself off. He was a stumbling mess, making a fool of himself like he always did. 

Crowley smirked, allowing the dimple in his left cheek to become more prominent. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he leaned closer to Aziraphale. His golden eyes were unusually dim, a devilish gaze.

“I’m fond of you too,” Crowley hummed, “a little more than fond, really. I uh, I could show you… if you wanted.” A coral bloomed high on his cheeks, burning into his ears as well. The insinuation was sudden, though not unwelcome. Aziraphale didn’t need a mirror to know just how red his skin had become.

“You fiendish thing,” Aziraphale whispered, breath shaking as if it were about to give out. He gave Crowley’s waist a squeeze. The siren leaned in closer, pressing their chests together and dampening Aziraphale’s shirt. His tail swished in the water, leaning until their chests pressed together. Aziraphale allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of Crowley’s hands brushing the heat on his neck.

“You like it, though,” Crowley teased, his fingers tangling in the curls at the base of Aziraphale’s neck. Crowley eyed him up momentarily before sealing their lips together again. Cautiously, Crowley’s tongue prodded, asking for an invitation that Aziraphale gladly gave. He tasted pleasantly of sea salt and the chocolates they had eaten in the village earlier.

Aziraphale could get lost in the sensations. Crowley’s hands wandered, touch staying gentle as though afraid to hurt him. He altogether avoided Aziraphale’s wound, which was much appreciated. There was vibrating in his skin, down to his very bones, as Crowley’s hands trailed along the curves of his body. 

After his hesitation subsided, Aziraphale allowed himself to drown in the sensation of Crowley’s skin. There was a time when Aziraphale assumed Crowley was all sharp edges and hard lines. A sculpture of perfect marble. But none of those assumptions held a candle to reality. He radiated a warmth that contradicted the near-icy water he sat in.

Crowley’s body contrasted his. Instead of an all-encompassing plushness of skin, he was firmer. His hips were bony, along with his shoulders and elbows. The curve of his lean muscles flexed beneath Aziraphale’s touch. Yet his skin was soft and smooth, save for the jagged scar tissue that ran up his side.

The skin there was raised despite the scar obviously being old. Aziraphale had noticed it once before when Crowley had worn a sinfully short top, not that he was complaining. Yet he hadn’t known the extent of the damage. It dipped below the front of his hip, where his tail began. It wrapped around him, ending just below his opposite shoulder blade.

Aziraphale pulled away for a moment. His face was flushed, his body tingled with a vaguely familiar and entirely new feeling. He suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself and was far too afraid to continue down the road they were headed. This was all so new, so scary. And, after all, Aziraphale had always been a coward. He supposed that temporary courage was just that, temporary.

Crowley took his retreat poorly, judging by the clouding of shame in his eyes. Of course, that had never been Aziraphale’s intention. He was just nervous, afraid of the unknown despite the thrill of it. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have-” Before Crowley could finish, Aziraphale pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. Crowley melted at the touch and hummed in appreciation.

“Don’t be silly, my dear. I’m simply… new to something like this.” He was becoming far too aware of how close they were. How Crowley’s body was pressed between his legs. The roughness of the rocks beneath him and the cold water caused him to lose feeling in the tips of his toes. 

A crimson-colored Crowley’s skin from his forehead to the tops of his shoulders and chest. It complimented his freckles beautifully. Yet, despite his noticeable flush, a soft smile rested on his lips. That fondness, that adoration he held, was beautiful. His wonderful eyes glowed with excitement, making Aziraphale’s heart ache with yearning. How badly he wanted it at that moment. He wanted Crowley more than he ever wanted anything in his life. Such a thought was a bit overwhelming if he dwelled on it for too long.

“That’s alright, angel, we’ll just go slow. You can trust me.” Crowley insisted. He took hold of Aziraphale’s hand, squeezing it gently. Aziraphale knew he wasn’t lying. How could he not trust Crowley at this point? The man literally saved his life and revealed his deepest secret to him. 

***

Aziraphale couldn’t help the tension he felt in his body. It wasn’t fear, yet it was more than nervousness. It was an ache in his heart to be closer to Crowley but a worry in his mind due to the newness of it all. His skin tingled with electricity each time their hands brushed against one another. Aziraphale didn’t know what to do, what to say, and he couldn’t tell if these new sensations were welcome or not.

They had a lovely dinner of soup and freshly cooked salmon with a side of sauteed vegetables. Everything had been seasoned to perfection and paired with a delightful pinot noir that Crowley said he had been saving for a special occasion. 

Though once the food was emptied from the tables and their glasses were filled once more with wine, Aziraphale felt anxiety burrow itself further beneath his skin. Crowley had just been talking about things they usually talked about. Nothing was different, and yet Aziraphale’s whole perspective had changed.

A hand reached out to Aziraphale, brushing gently along his knuckles to get his attention. But even with such careful movements, the prince was easily startled. When he met Crowley’s eyes, the man looked concerned, as if he were doing something wrong. Oh, how Aziraphale wished for that fear to vanish from him.

“Angel… are you afraid of me?” Crowley asked, voice breaking halfway through his question. Those words crushed Aziraphale. He could never be afraid of Crowley. Beautiful, lovely, generous Crowley, who was so open with his heart. And yet… Aziraphale could not look him in the eye.

“N-no I would never!” Aziraphale insisted, “it’s only… I’m not exactly sure how to… do this?” He knew how uncertain he sounded; he could hear it. But he was overwhelmed with all of the events over the past day. Crowley was a siren, and he possibly, maybe, by some infinitely small chance, liked him. That alone made Aziraphale’s head spin.

Yet Crowley gave him that wonderfully sweet smile, and suddenly, all of his anxieties seemed trivial. Ridiculous really. Why should any of it matter when Crowley was there with him with the fondest, softest expression.

“What do you want to do?” Crowley asked as he took hold of Aziraphale’s hand. Their fingers laced together, fitting so perfectly together. Aziraphale didn’t know what he wanted. The relationships he was supposed to have as a prince were all political. They were never based on mutual affection but on necessity or diplomacy. The few people he had courted or been courted by were never people he harbored feelings for. Such a concept was entirely foreign.

“I would very much like to kiss you again,” Aziraphale said, getting caught up in the swell of emotions in his chest. Crowley chuckled, that horridly wonderful smirk returning to his face.

“Then why don’t you? Didn’t seem to have much trouble earlier.” Crowley teased, leaning closer. Of course, he was right, but that only embarrassed Aziraphale more so. His whole body felt hot and claustrophobic.

“I-it’s not that- I just- w-we can’t just-” Oh, what on earth was he saying? What was he trying to say? Only the Lord knew, and Aziraphale most certainly wasn’t Her. Crowley seemed to be immensely enjoying the prince’s torment, judging by his expression. Smug and teasing and happy as he was.

However, as it turned out, Aziraphale’s fumbling did not turn Crowley away. He pulled Aziraphale’s hand to his lips and brushed a kiss along his knuckles. Then he stood up and bowed toward Aziraphale. It was crooked, sloppy, and not at all proper etiquette, yet he couldn’t care less. Such a simple act made his stomach tie itself into knots.

“Why don’t we dance then? Might relax you a bit. Get some of that nervous energy out, yeah?” Crowley teased, throwing Aziraphale a wink. He seemed serious. Oh, of course, he was serious! And, of course, he enjoyed dancing. It seemed so very… well, Crowley.

“Oh, I don’t really dance… and we couldn’t possibly anyway! There’s no one to play!” Aziraphale said, relieved to have an excuse. He hated dancing. It was dull and awkward, with stiff movements and stiffer music. It required sharing a space with someone judging you based on ability rather than wit or character.

But Crowley was not deterred. He thought for a moment before smirking at the prince. Before Aziraphale could say anything else, Crowley turned on his heel and made his way to the other side of the cottage. He disappeared into his room only to come out once again with a box with a large horn attached to the top.

Aziraphale had seen the contraption a few times before. They were insanely expensive, something that Crowley certainly couldn’t have afforded on his own. They were made to play music on metal disks.

“Where did you get one of these?” Aziraphale asked, eyes wide. Crowley brought the box to place it on the kitchen table.

“Same place. I get a lot of this stuff. From ships. Usually wrecks or stuff that people have lost over time.” Crowley explained as he adjusted the brass horn. “I’ve been working on fixing it up for a few months now. It’s been hard to find the right pieces.”

Aziraphale stared in awe at the music player. It looked perfectly intact. Crowley had obviously taken such good care in repairing it. Even the wooden frame of the box lacked any deformation from sitting in the seawater. The brass horn was almost perfectly shaped, save for a few minor dents around the rim. He let his fingers trace around the edges of the music machine, wonderstruck by Crowley’s handiwork.

“I figured you’d like it. The thing was in pretty rough shape before.” Crowley asked, slipping an arm around Aziraphale’s waist. The prince leaned closer, turning to the man with a wide grin on his face.

“It’s extraordinary!” Aziraphale practically squealed. “These things are so expensive! I’ve only ever seen one before. Oh, and the engravings on the box! You did a wonderful job, my dear.”

Crowley didn’t say anything for a moment. He simply looked at Aziraphale in surprise, face burning with heat. He reached out, running a hand through Aziraphale’s curls before letting his fingers rest against the side of his jaw. There was a look in his eyes, one that made the pit of Aziraphale’s stomach burn with hot coals. 

“Thanks, angel. Oh, I almost forgot the best part!” He suddenly pulled away from Aziraphale, who immediately missed his warmth. Crowley pulled out a metal disk with grooves and bumps all over. He fiddled with the music player momentarily, setting the disk in place before winding up the spring coil on the side.

Music filled the space wonderfully. A swell of strings and brass and percussion while a man sung in a foreign language. The sound was fuzzy, though beautiful nonetheless.

Crowley’s warmth vanished, and when Aziraphale turned toward him, he saw the man giving another sloppy bow while holding out his hand. It was so silly. It is so ridiculous and strange and so very Crowley.

“Come on angel, dance with me. I promise I’m not that bad.” Aziraphale snorted, shaking his head. It wouldn’t matter how skilled Crowley was or wasn’t; the prince was confident he would end up tripping over his own feet.

“I think I’m more the issue than you, my dear.” Aziraphale insisted. Yet Crowley wasn’t one to give up. He gave Aziraphale a lopsided smile and laughed a sound of bells.

“Then just follow my lead.” After another moment of hesitation, Aziraphale took hold of Crowley’s hand. 

Crowley pulled him close, wrapping an arm around Aziraphale’s waist as he stepped to the music. Aziraphale felt clumsy, awkward, but with each misstep, Crowley was there to keep him balanced.

It wasn’t the type of dancing drilled into him from a young age. No stiffness, no decorum, no tight suits with uncomfortable collars. Instead, Aziraphale felt free, like a breeze on the ocean. Open and moving as though nothing could get in the way.

Crowley looked beautiful like that, too, grinning from ear to ear, face so very close to the prince’s. He stepped out and twirled Aziraphale, tipping him till he nearly fell. Except he didn’t fall. Crowley caught him just in time. How his heart raced with the feeling and movements and music.

It was perfect, everything was perfect just like this. In a tiny cottage by the ocean with some swelling romantic song playing from the music box. The faint scent of dinner and wine still lingered in the air. And Crowley beside him, smiling. Nothing else in the world could matter in that moment.

Aziraphale leaned closer as they swayed to the music. Crowley hummed along slightly off-key. He was definitely a better dancer than a singer. His pupils were blown wide, leaving a sliver of gold along the edges like the last night of the crescent moon before it vanished.

“You know, you really are an angel. ‘S what I thought when I first saw you, too.” Crowley admitted as he twirled Aziraphale around again. “That you fell right down from the stars.” Aziraphale felt warmth crawling up to his cheeks. Damn Crowley and his stupidly charming way with words.

“That’s ridiculous, my dear.” Aziraphale huffed, trying to ignore his embarrassment. “Plus, I was bleeding out! A-and drowning!” Crowley chuckled. Their steps became slowed, less complex. They simply swayed together, pressed close to each other’s warmth.

“Well that was before I noticed the blood.” Crowley sighed, eyes melancholic for a moment. Like his mind was going back to the night they first met. “I wasn’t really in a good head space that night either. Then you just appeared out of nowhere. And when I saw the blood and how scared you were well… I couldn’t just leave you there.”

His voice sounded raw, sad like a shadow covering the moon, dimming its light. Aziraphale reached up, brushing Crowley’s hair behind his ear. And just like that, his eyes cleared and he was back to the present, no longer dwelling on the past.

“I’m really glad you were there that night. I don’t think I could ever thank you enough for all you’ve done for me.” Aziraphale whispered. Crowley hummed, leaning into Aziraphale’s touch.

“You don’t need to thank me angel, just you being here is enough.” Crowley leaned down to kiss him. It was soft, gentle. The music faded out as the song ended, leaving the rest of the world in a hazy daydream as they kissed.

When they parted, Aziraphale leaned onto Crowley, resting his head on his shoulder. He didn’t want to move, but his limbs were growing heavy, and the sun had long since set. But sleeping meant this moment would end, and Aziraphale would have given anything to prevent that.

“Tired angel?” Crowley teased, noticing as Aziraphale’s mind started to doze off. Aziraphale sighed and pulled away, looking up at Crowley once again.

“Just a bit, dear. It’s been a long day.” Crowley nodded and kissed the top of his head. Flutters filled Aziraphale’s stomach as he did.

“That’s a bit of an understatement.” Crowley snorted. “You could uh… just stay with me tonight.” As Crowley spoke, he realized what he had said and immediately started backtracking. “If you wanted, of course. I mean, a bed is more comfortable and all that.” 

“That would be lovely, darling,” Aziraphale said, stopping Crowley from spiraling.

He grinned ear to ear at Aziraphale’s response. Like he couldn’t help but smile. He turned off the lights before leading Aziraphale to his room.

It was much like the rest of the house, knick knacks adorning every corner. Plants spilled off shelves and hung in the window that overlooked the shoreline. The bed took up about a third of the room and was filled with all kinds of blankets and pillows. All mismatched and soft and perfect.

They curled up in the bed, Crowley holding Aziraphale close and burying his nose in his hair. Aziraphale closed his eyes, leaning to Crowley’s shoulder as warmth enveloped him.

He imagined he could stay in this place forever. Live a simple and peaceful life in this little seaside town, never wanting for more. Each night would be just as gentle and loving as that evening had been.