Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandoms:
Relationship:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Series:
Part 34 of Short prompt fills
Collections:
Guess the Author: Round 19
Stats:
Published:
2022-09-21
Words:
716
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
23
Kudos:
135
Bookmarks:
8
Hits:
761

Proper Understanding

Summary:

Crowley let the pounding on the door go on for three minutes before he finally stalked over and yanked it open. “Asssiraphale? What the blazess--?”
--
A look at the aftermath of the holy water fight in 1862

Notes:

GOFWW GTA #19 'Collar'

Work Text:

“Honestly! The nerve of him!” Aziraphale had been pacing the bookshop for an hour, desperate for motion. He hadn’t even put down his hat when he came in, just waved it in the air as he walked. “Holy water! Holy water! How could he think, how could he even dream I would just give him something that could destroy him!”

The shelves had no answers, although he did knock a fine coating of dust about with his hat.

“He would be utterly annihilated! How could he think I would do that, would ever, ever do that?!” 

Someone knocked on the door. Aziraphale glanced, saw no-one he recognised, and waved. All the shades snapped down at once and stayed there.

He should have known something was up when he’d gotten the note, more cloak-and-dagger than they’d bothered with for ages. He should have known before then, even; the Victorian era had been hard on Crowley all along. So many new inventions to play with, and so much of it winning him commendations as humans figured out how to make a glorious nightmare of the whole world. 

But to want to leave, now? To step away from the world, the humans? Him?

And to ask him to provide the instrument of that destruction?!

A spark flew off his fingers and grounded on his hat, singeing the white fur with a spatter of black. 

Aziraphale took a deep breath, and another, closing his eyes and trying hard to calm himself. He couldn’t afford this. He’d spoken badly. Yes, that was bad, and he regretted it, he’d regretted it as soon as he had said it, but you couldn’t reason with Crowley when he was like this, and it was reasonable to be frightened, it was...

It was reasonable to be frightened. Crowley understood that, Crowley had always understood.

So perhaps what he needed now was to be brave. To make sure that the demon understood things properly.

The scorch mark melted away under his fingers. “Time to be brave, then,” he said, and flipped his hat on.

Crowley let the pounding on the door go on for three minutes before he finally stalked over and yanked it open. “Asssiraphale? What the blazes--?”

He didn’t get any farther before Aziraphale was right on him, kicking the door closed. “Right.” Aziraphale said. “I shouldn’t have said that. But I can’t, I cannot give you what you asked for.” 

“Yeah. I got that clear enough.”

Aziraphale flinched. Good, Crowley thought viciously, and then the angel looked back at him and settled his shoulders like the fluffed-up pigeon he was. 

“Right. Brave,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley was still trying to figure out what that meant when Aziraphale pounced on him, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him forward into a desperate, inexpert kiss.

“Mmppfrpfhl!” His back thumped into the wall, Aziraphale propping him up and breaking the kiss with a *pop* that would live in his memory forever.

“You must understand, my dear, I cannot countenance your destruction,” Aziraphale panted. 

“That’s not what--” he started, but he saw the gleam in Aziraphale’s eye just before his lips were attacked. Again. 

Oh, fine. He gave up and kissed back for all of him, his hands finding ways to grab and hold. They’d have to talk about it later, of course, but he wasn’t about to let go of this now. It was furious, ravenous. It left no room in his mind for anything but Aziraphale.

It was perfect. 

The kisses had trailed off into something less frantic when they parted again, lips barely moving, breathing softly against each others’ mouths. Crowley floated, tasting the angel’s bright life against their earlier fight. 

“We can’t...” Aziraphale breathed, and swallowed. “We can’t make this a habit. I’m too much a danger to you.”

“Risk just about anything now, me.”

“But I won’t. I can’t risk you.” Aziraphale stepped back. Caught him when he slid down the wall, fussed at his rumpled clothes. 

“Angel--” 

“You simply must know, though...” A brush at his shoulders, and he was pinned by an anxious stare. “You can’t go on thinking no-one cares.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Please tell me.

Aziraphale leaned in and brushed a small kiss by his ear. “It means, whatever else may be, that you are loved.”

Series this work belongs to: