All the Kingdoms of the World - megzseattle

Chapter 1: Dress Rehearsal

Summary:

In which Crowley and Aziraphale plan a trip and make a trial run of leaving the snake in the hands of a caregiver.

Chapter Text

“You know,” Aziraphale said coyly at breakfast, one morning about a week after the wedding. “Most of the time, when people get married, they follow it up with a honeymoon.”

Crowley looked mock-affronted. “I think I’ve been doing plenty to honey your moon, love.”

Aziraphale blushed the most delicious shade of red. “Oh you,” he admonished with absolutely no heat at all behind it. “That’s not what I meant. I meant that we should think about going somewhere, to celebrate.”

“You want to go on a trip?” Crowley asked, consideringly.

“Well, it could be amusing,” Aziraphale said. “And we haven’t really gone anywhere in quite some time.”

“I’m not opposed to the idea,” Crowley said, “as long as we aren’t camping or something awful like that.”

“Heavens, no!” Aziraphale said, shocked. “Why would we sleep in a tent when we could have wonderful hotels with their high thread count linens and good restaurants and lovely little breakfast trays?”

“The very idea!” Crowley said, amused. “So where would you like to go?”

Aziraphale took a deep sip of his morning earl grey. “Hrm, so many lovely possibilities. We should make a list! Of course, Paris is traditional for honeymoons. Barcelona is lovely and I haven’t been there in some time! Morocco perhaps?”

“Don’t forget warm and tropical,” Crowley said. “That could be fun.”

“Perhaps Fiji?” Aziraphale said. “I’ve never been there.”

“Fiji sounds nice! Plus, it’s close to New Zealand and we could go see the penguins.”

Aziraphale clapped in joy at that idea. “Oh! That would be delightful. How will we ever pick? Perhaps we should make a grand tour of it and go to all of the places we’re interested in!”

Crowley smiled. “It sounds like we have some planning to do.”

They ultimately decided that they would each pick two of four destinations. Both angel and demon threw themselves into research, each compiling a list of places to go and stay and things to do, and after a few days they got together to share their ideas with each other. After a lot of back and forth, they decided on five places total, with each of them individually planning the details of two of the destinations as a surprise, and setting the last one up together.

“What about Frederick?” Aziraphale asked. “Should we bring him?”

Crowley paused. “Well, you know I like the snake, angel,” he said carefully. “But you don’t usually bring a pet on a honeymoon. And we’d have to bring a bunch of frozen mice, and all of that…”

“But he’d miss us,” Aziraphale pointed out.

“We could get Anathema to watch him,” Crowley said. “He might like that.”

Aziraphale looked worried. “I suppose we could try,” he said. “But don’t underestimate him, Crowley. He’s not going to be pleased about this.”

“Perhaps we should do a trial run?” Crowley said. “How about a weekend away without him to see how he handles it?”

“That’s a reasonable thought. Where to?”

Crowley smiled. “Somewhere simple. How about Paris?”

“Oooo, crepes!” Aziraphale grinned. “Sounds lovely.”

YOU’RE GOING TO WHAT? FOR HOW LONG? Frederick shrieked when they sat down with him later that night to bring up the matter. Crowley grimaced, then translated it for the angel.

“We’re going away for the weekend. To Paris,” Aziraphale said calmly. “And some of the places we are going aren’t appropriate for snakes. We thought you’d be happier staying here with Anathema to take care of you.”

I HAVE A TRAVEL CASE! Frederick shrieked. WHY WOULD YOU BUY ME A TRAVEL CASE IF I DON’T GET TO TRAVEL?

“Well you have travelled,” Aziraphale said. “Don’t you remember going to the beach? And we took you to the cottage that we rented last June.”

I WANT TO GO SEE PARIS WITH YOU! Frederick shrieked. IF YOU LEAVE ME WITH THE WITCH I WILL BURN HER COTTAGE DOWN, YOU BLOODY IDIOTS.

“He says he’ll think about it,” Crowley said.

“Really?” Aziraphale said suspiciously.

“Well no, he mostly swore a lot, and threatened to burn down Jasmine Cottage.”

Aziraphale sighed. “I don’t know about this, Crowley.”

After getting Anathema and Newt’s agreement, the angel and the demon descended on them very early that Friday with Freddy in tow. The set his glass container down on the floor and began to share information, rapid-fire.

“Now Anathema, dear,” Aziraphale said, “this is just an experiment. Frederick is a rather unusual snake, you see, picked up a few things from living with two – I suppose you would say supernatural beings. He’s used to a lot of company and can surprise you with how well he can make his needs known.”

“And he’s a bit of a jackass,” Crowley added.

YOU’RE THE JACKASS, a surly Frederick shrieked from his corner.

Aziraphale frowned at both of them. “I hardly think that’s the proper way to – well, yes, okay, he can be a bit of a handful. But if he gives you any trouble, just call us on the video thing and we will take care of it, okay?”

“He’s been warned,” Crowley said ominously. “He knows better.”

YOU KNOW BETTER, Frederick yelled.

Anathema looked back and forth between the angel and the demon with a look of dawning misgiving on her face. “What exactly have I agreed to here? I’m starting to have second thoughts.”

Aziraphale put on his best comforting smile, which even Crowley had to admit looked a slight bit terrifying in this context.

AT LEAST SOMEONE HERE HAS SOME SENSE, Frederick shouted.

“Oh no, my dear,” he said. “All you need to do is put his cage somewhere warm and keep the top securely locked. He mostly sleeps. He’d enjoy it if you sit near him and talk to him, and you can add water from the reservoir outside without opening it.”

“So, don’t let him out?” she asked. “You have him out all the time.”

I WILL NOT BE HELD PRISONER!

“Snakes are expert hiders,” Aziraphale said, looking around dubiously at the cluttered cottage with its many excellent hidey holes, “and if you aren’t holding him there’s every chance he’ll explore and find a bolt hole. I don’t want you to have to tear the place apart looking for him. Best to just let him stay in his container. He’s happy there.”

“And if he does get lost,” Crowley added, “we will handle it. Just let us know. Okay? No harm, no foul. It’ll be fine.”

Aziraphale tried to convince himself this was even the least bit likely for the whole drive back to London.

They took a quick express train from London to Paris, and shortly were settled into their room in a fabulous, small-scale boutique hotel in the Marais district of Paris. Aziraphale loved the Marais district with its rabbit-warren streets and intriguing little shops, and Crowley loved the luxury of a high-end hotel. Both found themselves pleased.

“Let’s head out to the boulangerie across the street, dearest,” Aziraphale suggested. “Did you catch that amazing scent on the way in?”

Crowley looked up from where he was literally caressing the high thread count bed linens and smiled. “All right, angel, whatever you like!”

They had a lovely first day, sampling nibbles at regular intervals, ordering steaming hot chocolate at more than one café, and slowly wandering through their favorite neighborhoods. This, Aziraphale noted contentedly, was far from the first time they had been to Paris, but it was the first time they had been to Paris as a couple, not to mention a married couple. He made sure to hold Crowley’s hand as often as he could, and to stop and pull him close for a kiss whenever he found a particularly romantic street lamp or vantage point.

Crowley, to his credit, didn’t seem to mind.

They opened up a table at Le Cinq and had a long and sumptuous meal, choosing the eight-course tasting menu. Aziraphale savored every morsel, encouraging Crowley to indulge himself in the best wines and take a taste or two of most of the courses. The demon liked the cuttlefish and prawns, refused to even look at the dish featuring duck, much less taste it, and declined the eel as well out of a vague sense of kinship. He did, however, enthusiastically trial all three dessert options, concluding that the coffee mousse was exquisite and something they needed to import to England as soon as possible.

Two bottles of lovely wine and a pair of brandies later, they staggered back to their hotel and settled into the room, Aziraphale groaning at how full he was.

“Should we check in, do you think?” Crowley asked.

“It’s rather late, dear,” Aziraphale replied, flopping down on the bed and loosening his waist coat. “Perhaps we should check in the morning instead?”

“You’re right,” the demon admitted. “Besides if anything had happened, she’d have called us.”

Aziraphale hoped so. And then he put that thought out of his mind as he patted the bed next to him to urge Crowley to join him.

They called Anathema on Crowley’s phone using video conferencing on Saturday morning as soon as they woke.

“Hi you two!” Anathema said chirpily. “How is Paris?”

“Oh, just lovely,” Aziraphale said, launching into a long description of their meal and their snacks and pretty much every single thing they’d eaten in the last 18 hours. While he rambled on, Crowley studied Anathema closely. Did she look a little more frazzled than usual? He wasn’t sure.

“Is everything going all right?” Crowley asked at the first moment when he could get a word in edgewise.

Anathema reached back and straightened her ponytail in a gesture that looked oddly like deflection. “Everything is fine,” she said with a businesslike smile. “Frederick is fine. We’re all getting along.”

“Can we see him?” Aziraphale said, trying not to sound doubtful.

“Oh sure!” Anathema said, wandering into the other room and pointing her tablet at the glass cage. Frederick appeared to be asleep under his warming lamp. They could just make out his soft snores through the speaker.

“Oh, well, that’s a relief!” Aziraphale said. “We will call you this evening to check in, promise!”

“Call us if anything comes up,” Crowley called over the angel’s shoulder. “Really, anything.”

“I will! Go have fun!”

They were sitting in the Musee D’Orsay looking at one of Crowley’s favorite paintings when the phone rang in Crowley’s pocket.

Anathema, he mouthed to Aziraphale as he answered. Aziraphale suddenly went very alert and listened closely to the one-sided conversation.

“Hello? Everything okay?”

“What do you mean he –”

“No, he’s not venomous. Where did he bite you?”

“Ok, where did he bite Newt, then?”

Aziraphale stood up and held out a hand. “Give her to me,” he said.

“Hello, my dear,” the angel said. “I’m so sorry you were bitten! Is Newt all right?” He listened quietly for a moment or two, then made understanding noises. “Well, no, of course not, it’s not every day one gets bitten by a snake!”

He listened some more.

“Listen, my dear, this is going to sound like an unusual request, but can you please go over to the cage and tap on it to wake him up a little bit, and then put the phone on top of the top air vents, face down? Perhaps put me on speaker, so my voice will carry a little bit?”

He paused. “Yes, I know he’s a snake. But he has surprising powers of communication, trust me.”

He paused again. “Thank you, my dear! Why don’t you just pop off for a bit and wash that bite off and make yourself some tea while Freddy and I have a little talk?”

Aziraphale waited until he heard Anathema’s footsteps echoing away into the cottage kitchen, and then he lowered and darkened his voice. “Now you listen here, Frederick,” he said ominously. “If you think you can bite our friends and scare them like that you have another thing coming, young man. I am appalled by your behavior towards someone who has welcomed you into her home.”

They both heard a faint hiss coming through the line.

“Don’t you hiss at me!” Aziraphale snapped. “I am extremely disappointed in you!”

The other end of the line was suddenly much quieter.

“I expect to hear glowing reports of your behavior the next time we speak to Anathema, do you understand me? Or you will be facing some severe consequences when we get home.” He paused to listen, happy to hear no sign of snakey back talk. “Don’t you test me on this, Frederick Crawly Fell. Do you understand?”

He heard a faint hiss that sounded… cooperative, perhaps. Or intimidated.

“Good, then,” he said crisply, handing the phone over to Crowley. “Snakebird wants to talk to you.”

Crowley blinked at Aziraphale, who gave him a tight-lipped, humorless smile and stalked off to examine the information card on a nearby statue. He almost – ALMOST – felt sorry for Frederick for the dressing-down he just received. It took a lot to get that far under the angel’s skin.

Crowley talked quietly to both snake and book-girl for a few minutes longer, then he walked up behind the angel and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“You all right, there, angel?” he asked. “You seemed quite worked up.”

“Parenting,” Aziraphale sighed dramatically. “You think it’s going to be all birthdays and hugs and suddenly there’s discipline to be taken care of and limits to be established.”

Crowley nodded. “It’s awful.”

“Awfully hard, anyway,” Aziraphale agreed. “I wonder if human children are as difficult as psychic snakelets.”

Crowley thought for a minute. “Let’s go up to the café and have a glass of champagne. I bet they have nice little cakes, too. That should cheer you up!”

Aziraphale beamed. “You have the most delightful ideas.”

They managed to salvage the angel’s mood and have a lovely rest of the day lounging in the Tuileries and browsing through small art galleries before enjoying a late dinner of simple roast chicken and white wine at a gorgeous outdoor café. They decided to take another long walk before finding somewhere else to stop for dessert and ended up walking up the bank of the Seine towards Notre Dame, hand in hand, enjoying the romantic sparkle of city lights on the water.

It was almost dessert time when the phone rang again.

“Oh no,” Aziraphale said. He held out his hand for the phone and Crowley let him answer.

Anathema was calling on video, so they plopped down on a bench and answered.

“Sorry to bother you,” Anathema said, looking distinctly more disheveled than she had earlier. “I really promised myself I wouldn’t call again.”

She was, they both noticed, sitting at the kitchen table with Frederick’s plainly empty terrarium in front of her. This was not a good sign.

Aziraphale tutted. “It’s quite all right my dear, what can we do for you?”

“Well,” she said, “it’s just that – he got out. And he didn’t do much at first, just napped by the fire, but then he tried to eat one of the kittens –”

Aziraphale gasped. “Oh no, is he or she all right?”

Anathema always had at least one litter of jet-black kittens around. Somehow her cats never birthed anything but true to color and form, the perfect little witch’s familiars. Aziraphale suspected Crowley had had a hand in this genetic oddity but had never gotten around to asking.

“It’s fine – we got him away from the litter quickly enough,” Anathema reassured. “But in the chaos that caused, he crawled up onto the wood pile and then, well, we lost track of him completely. We’re sorry.”

Crowley sighed. “Not your fault, book girl,” he said. “He’s an arse.”

Anathema grinned for a moment. “Any advice on how to find him?”

“I think, my dear,” Aziraphale said, “that we’re going to have to come back. We can miracle him back into his cage for you from here, but he’s just going to keep pulling these shenanigans and you aren’t going to have a moment’s rest, clearly.”

He looked at Crowley, who shrugged resignedly. The demon raised his hand and snapped; a moment later a surprised and soot-covered snake appeared in his terrarium. He thrashed around wildly for a minute, then took a look at the video screen Anathema was holding up in front of him.

OH GREAT, IT’S YOU TWO AGAIN, Frederick shrieked. HERE TO YELL AT ME SOME MORE?

“You are a very bad snake,” Crowley said.

OH YEAH? WELL YOU’RE A REALLY BAD EVERYTHING, SNAKEBIRD!

Crowley rolled his eyes. “What a charmer,” he said.

Frederick curled up in a tight ball and tucked his head in, pretending to go to sleep.

“We’ll pick him up in a few hours,” Crowley told her. “Probably after midnight. Feel free to leave his ungrateful self out on the porch if you need to go to bed.”

Aziraphale found himself feeling pensive as they headed back to the hotel; he kept stealing glances at the demon out of the corner of his eye. Crowley didn’t look upset, he thought, but he must be, at least a little. Cutting their trip short because of his pet, a pet Crowley hadn’t even had a hand in bringing into their lives? How terribly inconvenient it must be to find yourself suddenly beholden to a badly-behaved little viper with a serious case separation anxiety.

“What?” Crowley said, rounding on him as they came to the front steps of their hotel. “Why are you peeking looks at me and looking like you’re expecting to be walloped?”

Aziraphale wrung his hands. “I’m concerned that you might be upset,” he cried. “We’re cutting a trip short because of my poorly behaved pet. You didn’t sign up for this! You must be resenting it, at least a little bit.”

Crowley studied him for an uncomfortably long time with an expression the angel found difficult to read. “M’not, angel,” he finally said. “Really. For one, I don’t think of Frederick as your pet, or really as a pet at all. He’s his own being, just, you know – the slightly-psychic, somewhat sociopathic, juvenile delinquent who lives with us now. He’s as much a part of my life as yours.”

Aziraphale tried to smile but only managed an odd wobble of his lips. “But still,” he insisted. “We have to leave. And – and we’ll never be able to leave him with anyone while we go on a trip. If he did all this in two days, what would he do over the course of a month?”

Crowley pulled the angel in for a much-needed hug. “We’ll figure it out, angel,” he said. “M’not mad about it. Not your fault.”

Aziraphale melted into the hug, still feeling guilty, and followed Crowley into the hotel, where they quickly gathered their things to check out. He stood back and observed as Crowley sweet talked the lady at the reception desk into granting them an early checkout on their reservation without penalties. Then the demon turned to him, tucking one of their bags under each arm, and ushered Aziraphale out the front door – where to his shock, the Bentley was waiting at the curb.

“Dearest,” the angel said conversationally. “We took a train here.”

Crowley smiled. “We did! You’re so observant.”

“Also, I’m fairly certain we left the Bentley in London,” the angel continued mildly.

“Did we?” Crowley frowned as if thinking about this concept. “I don’t think that could be right. I mean, it’s obviously here in Paris. Are you going to argue with the evidence of your own eyes?”

Aziraphale smiled. “I suppose I’m not. Does this mean you’re going to speed the whole way home?”

Crowley didn’t find that question worthy of an answer.

Chapter 2: Consequences

Summary:

In which snakes and angels come to a new understanding.

Chapter Text

It was a seven-hour drive from Paris to Tadfield. They made it in just over four. When they pulled up in front of Jasmine Cottage, Aziraphale sent a prayer of thanks heavenward that they had managed to survive the trip. He got out of the car and immediately staggered, then leaned heavily on the Bentley for support.

“Are you all right, angel?” Crowley asked, walking around from the driver’s side.

“Just considering whether I should kiss the ground or not,” Aziraphale said primly. “That was the most terrifying ride you’ve ever put me through, and that’s saying something.”

“Bah,” Crowley said, offering a hand and helping Aziraphale right himself. “You exaggerate. Now come on, let’s get our snake and go home.”

Frederick’s cage was not, as threatened, out on the doorstep, so they spent a few moments sincerely apologizing to their very tired friends and bundling the snake back into the car for the trip back to London. Frederick, to his credit, did his best to be asleep through this whole process, cutting short any opportunities for recriminations during the drive.

The angel was too tired to pursue it. They made it back to the shop in record time, deposited Frederick back on his usual perch in the back room, and went to bed.

Frederick couldn’t pretend to be asleep forever. And he made the mistake of being visibly up and moving around his cage when the two of them appeared in the late morning for breakfast. Aziraphale noticed him right away upon entering the room, fixing him with a pursed-lips look that the snake knew wasn’t anything good. The angel didn’t say anything right away, though, instead turning aside to make tea and toast some bread.

Crowley joined them a few minutes later and raised an eyebrow at the snake, then went over to putter around making himself a cappuccino. He and the angel finally settled down at the table with their cups and bread and marmalade. Frederick watched in rising levels of tension from his position on the sideboard a few feet away.

Aziraphale sighed, finally, and swiveled in his chair to face the snake.

“Knave,” he said, pointing a finger at the snake. “Miscreant.”

Frederick looked at Crowley. He didn’t know what any of these words meant. Were they good words or bad words? Crowley gave a subtle thumbs down signal.

“Rapscallion,” Aziraphale continued, his tone getting harsher. “Scallywag.” He thought for a minute and leaned forward. “Scoundrel.”

Crowley looked amused. “Oh, you’re in for it now, if he’s breaking out the vocabulary!”

Aziraphale frowned. “We,” he said pointedly to both of them, “were supposed to be eating croissants in Paris this morning. And we aren’t because someone can’t behave himself like a responsible being.”

Crowley wiped the grin off his face and replaced it with a supportive frown. “Right, right,” he said. “This is very serious.”

The angel rolled his eyes and turned back to Frederick. “You bit our friends! That was very painful for Newt and scared him on top of that. And then you tried to murder one of their pets!”

I WASN’T REALLY GOING TO EAT IT. IT WAS ALL POINTY AND SHARP!

In fact, they’d gotten to be friends, later that evening, he and the black kitten. She’d curled up on top of his cage and whispered jokes to him through the air vent for most of the evening. Told him several interesting tidbits about the witch, too, that might come in handy someday.

Crowley translated. Aziraphale was not impressed.

“And then you escaped when you’d been told with absolutely zero ambiguity to not ever leave your cage while you were there with them! Imagine how worried they must have been, wondering what had happened to you and how we were going to react.”

Frederick hissed defiantly. THAT’S NOTHING. I COULD HAVE DONE A LOT WORSE.

Crowley let that comment go. He leaned forward and glared. “Anything you want to say for yourself, Frederick?” he asked.

Freddy sulked. He didn’t see the point in behaving at witch girl’s house. If he behaved well, they were going to take that as evidence that he could be left behind on the longer trip and everything would be fine. If he behaved poorly, they were going to take that as evidence that he was too poorly behaved to go on the longer trip and still leave him behind.

WHY ON EARTH WOULD I BEHAVE IN THAT SITUATION? He shrieked.

Honestly, he thought, shouldn’t angels and demons be smarter than this?

Crowley translated that to the angel, who looked both outraged and confused.

“What does that mean?” Aziraphale said, face red.

IF I’M GOOD, YOU LEAVE ME BEHIND. Frederick shrieked. IF I’M BAD, YOU COME BACK. ARE YOU JUST TRYING TO BE STUPID?

Crowley sighed and translated word for word. The snake had a point.

“So, you admit to being manipulative!” Aziraphale shouted.

I ADMIT TO BEING SMARTER THAN YOU!

Crowley sucked in a breath and refused to translate that one.

TELL HIM WHAT I SAID!

Crowley hemmed and hawed and tried to find a way to soften this particular statement. He didn’t want his angel to have an aneurysm.

“What did he say?” Aziraphale asked coldly. “Tell me exactly.”

Crowley told him.

Aziraphale’s face went rigid with surprise, then anger, then with a carefully controlled wall of nothing. Utter blankness. He took one last controlled sip of his tea, then stood up and walked stiffly out of the room.

“Now you’ve done it,” Crowley said. “I think you two are officially in a fight.”

STAY OUT OF IT, SNAKEBIRD! Frederick shrieked.

“Angel,” Crowley said tentatively. “You can’t actually be in a fight with your pet snake, can you?”

Aziraphale snapped the book he was holding down onto the bedside table. “He could get in an argument with God herself,” he groused. “He’s the most infuriating little sociopath I’ve ever met. I honestly despair of him ever developing a conscience, Crowley, I swear!”

“Does he have to, though?” Crowley asked. “Develop a conscience? He is a snake, not an angel or even a person. He’s not going to act like a human would no matter what we do. But he’s a nice little snake at heart, and he hates it when you’re angry at him.”

Aziraphale sighed. “I know he isn’t human. But he’s just so infuriating. And he certainly didn’t seem to mind me being mad at him today.”

Crowley shrugged. “Give it a little time, angel, and try again when you’re not so put out.”

Aziraphale picked up his book and flipped a page dramatically. “I’m not put out,” he muttered, “he’s put out.”

Crowley had the foresight to roll away before allowing himself to smile. No use antagonizing the angel further.

Frederick sat in his cage and tried to ignore the dull sense of worry that was settling into each molecule of his body. He was angry, he was sad, he was downright miserable, and he had just PICKED A FIGHT with his soft and lovely owner, the only person in the whole world who had ever offered him a home. Frederick curled his body into a tight ball and tucked his head in the middle, all but tying himself in a knot to try to get some comfort.

Would the fluffy one send him back to the pet store? He hated the pet store. All those faces looking at him all day long, tapping on his cage, and nothing to do except look at the other stupid snakes next to him and try to nickname each employee in the most insulting way possible? He didn’t think he could go back to it. He didn’t want to go back to it.

He was going to have to work on his communication skills, he decided. People didn’t seem to like insults as much as he expected them to. He didn’t understand it, but he could try to adjust to their inexplicable peculiarities.

“We’re going to have to take him on the trip, angel,” Crowley said as they lounged sleepless in the bed that evening. “There’s no way around it.”

Aziraphale rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Crowley rolled over and ran a hand down Aziraphale’s back. “Don’t be, angel, it’s okay. We were always going to end up taking him – I mean, did you really think having him stay with someone else for a month was going to be realistic?”

Aziraphale sighed and shook his head, still face down. “No,” he mumbled, his voice muffled. “I suppose not.”

Crowley leaned in and plucked the pillow out from under him in one swift pull. “Listen to me, you, stop wallowing. I’m not mad at you about any of this. Love you, love your snake, okay? It’s not like I didn’t know about all this when I married you.”

Aziraphale blinked over at him, suddenly wordless. Sometimes he couldn’t believe the things that came out of the demon’s mouth. It was the most precious gift in the world, these statements he made in his unguarded moments.

“And also, I think part of the program with Freddy is that he is actually a bit afraid, you know?” Crowley continued.

“Afraid?” Aziraphale rolled over onto his side and propped his head up on one arm. “Of what?”

Crowley thought for a minute. “Abandonment, I suppose,” he said. “He doesn’t like being away from you. He’s not quite a snake anymore and not quite like us, not quite like anything else either – he’s got a lot to deal with that your ordinary snake isn’t. He doesn’t fit anywhere else but with us. Doesn’t mean he’s not a total prick sometimes, but he doesn’t have some of the finer controls that we do about how to handle his emotions, you know?”

Aziraphale mulled that thought over. “I suppose I should go talk to him,” he finally said. “I shouldn’t let him goad me into an argument like that.”

“Want me to come translate?”

“No,” Aziraphale said. “I think we’ll get by.”

Aziraphale wandered down to the kitchen and made himself a cup of cocoa with extra marshmallows, then opened the lid to Frederick’s cage. “Are you going to bite me if I take you out?” he asked.

Frederick held himself still in what the angel took to be a “no” and allowed himself to be picked up. The angel wandered out into the office area and settled in a comfortable chair, draping a throw over his legs and placing the snake on his lap. He snapped to flick on the fire grate and stared into it for a few minutes.

“Well then,” he said, finally, to the subdued looking snake. “This has not been our best day, has it? Let’s try to have a calmer talk about what’s going on. I know you can’t communicate well with me without Crowley, but that’s all right for the moment – you remember your yes and no movements, right? And for now, I just want you to listen to me, and then if you need Crowley’s help later to tell me anything, we’ll figure that out. Do you understand?”

The snake indicated he did.

“It will be better this way anyways without us yelling insults at each other,” Aziraphale added. Frederick flicked a tongue out noncommittally, but he appeared calm and quiet, so the angel took this as a good sign.

“Now, to begin with,” Aziraphale said calmly, “I want you to know that this is your home and will always be your home, and we are your family. No one will ever take that from your or remove you from it while either of us are living and breathing. Do you understand?”

Frederick moved his head in that strange way he’d learned meant yes. He hissed softly and looked intently at his fluffy owner.

“That said, I’m still very angry at you. Here’s why.”

When Crowley came down an hour later, he found the angel and the snake coiled up together in the light of the fire, with Aziraphale murmuring quietly to him and Frederick making little tail twitches that he knew were a sign of being generally pleased with the world.

“All better, then?” he drawled as he threw himself towards the seat of the couch, landing with a grace that no one, least of all him, expected.

“I think so, yes,” Aziraphale said. “Frederick?”

YES, FINE, GOOD. Frederick said at slightly less than his usual shriek.

Crowley looked at him in surprise.

WHAT? I CAN TALK WITHOUT INSULTING SOMEONE.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Crowley said.

LIKE THAT’S DIFFICULT, Frederick shrieked.

Back to normal then, Crowley thought with satisfaction.

“Frederick and I talked about the trip,” Aziraphale said, “and decided that he’s going to come with us. However, in return, he’s got some proving to do. He must establish that he has the maturity to behave himself before he’s going to get a chance to do much of anything except be in his cage. He understands this.”

YEAH YEAH, Frederick said, more in a mumble than a shriek. PROVE MYSELF. NO MISCHIEF. GOT IT.

“We’re going to use a little angelic power to keep the container safely closed and sealed, particularly as some of the places we’re going aren’t the appropriate climate for him if he got out,” Aziraphale continued, stroking the snake along his spine. “And he understands that if he chooses to cause a problem, we’re not going to cut the trip short -- we’re going to use powers to make him take a very long nap and continue exactly as we are. We’ll keep him safe and alive and with us, but he will miss everything.”

The angel’s voice was like steel on this last bit.

Crowley nodded thoughtfully. That was interesting. And rather extreme. But he could see why that might be necessary if the snake just couldn’t get control of his baser nature. It was nice to know there was an alternative to just cutting everything short and bringing him home.

“Sounds like a good plan,” Crowley said.

SO GLAD WE COULD ALL WORK THIS OUT. THAT’S JUST GREAT, Frederick shrieked in what passed for pleasant in his world. NOW HOW ABOUT A MOUSE? ANYONE UP FOR A MOUSE?

“Where are we going first?” Aziraphale asked later. “You get first pick, love. I’m too exhausted from all of that to take the lead right now.”

Crowley thought. His two portions of the trip were very different from each other and he wasn’t sure which was the best place to start. Warm and tropical, or soft and romantic? Best save the warm and tropical for later, he though, knowing that the angel’s plans included one location that would be chilly. Best to start easy and get more adventurous as they went along.

“Pack your bags, angel,” he said, “because we will shortly have a palace awaiting us on the Grand Canal in Venice. We leave in two days.”

“Oh! Venice!” Aziraphale sighed. “I adore Venice! I haven’t been there in centuries! Oh, can we have squid ink pasta as soon as get there? And bacalao? And visit the fish market? And the rice balls? Oh, and we can go to the church where Tiziano painted all the cherubs and see if you can figure out which one is me. Oh – and then we can –”

Crowley leaned in and broke the angel’s train of thought with a kiss. And then he kissed him again for good measure. And then, just because he was enjoying the angel’s sudden look of fond stupidity, he kissed him one more time.

“Yes, to all of those things,” Crowley said. “Anything you like. We are going to take our time, stay however long we feel like, and then decide what we’re doing next. This is going to be the most relaxing, low stress honeymoon in the whole history of the world, troublesome snake companion or not.”

Aziraphale smiled and pulled the demon close.

“I can’t wait,” he said.

Chapter 3: Venice, Part One

Summary:

Crowley and Aziraphale (and Frederick) begin their trip in Venice, where a surprise awaits.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

They arrived in Venice on an evening train and were met at the train station by a man in a smart black suit holding up a small sign that said “Signor Crowley e famiglia”.

“Ah, look, that’s us!” Aziraphale said delightedly. He picked up Frederick’s travel cage and carefully adjusted the coverings they’d put in place to make it look like nothing more than a standard carry-on case. No use advertising to any nervous landlords that they were traveling with a snake.

After a quick jaunt on a private water taxi, they arrived at their gorgeous palazzo just off the Accademia bridge. Their host opened the home for them, gave them a quick tour, and left them with two bottles of champagne, a platter of cheese and crackers, and two enormous, old-fashioned keys hung from ribbons.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, walking through the main living areas with their gorgeous damasked walls and sumptuous artwork and furnishings. “This is lovely! How did you find it?”

Crowley smiled as he popped a cork and poured two glasses of champagne. “I have my ways. Come, you have to see the loggia…”

Aziraphale took a moment to settle Frederick’s case on the dining room table and take off the coverings so that Frederick could see around him.

ARE WE THERE YET? Frederick said sleepily. He glanced around, seemed unimpressed, and curled up in a ball.

Aziraphale followed Crowley out onto the small balcony overlooking the canal. It was breathtaking – the ancient stone buildings glowing in the golden light of thousands of electric bulbs and reflected in the black water, festive little boats parked here and there, the bustle from the nearby bridge. One or two people on a passing vaporetto saw them and waved, and Aziraphale happily raised his glass back to them. The air smelled like the sea. He shut his eyes and took a long, deep breath, just to smell it.

When Aziraphale finally turned back to Crowley, he found the demon not admiring the view at all, but instead looking intently at him.

He knew that look. That was the look his demon gave him whenever he was rapturously enjoying himself, whenever he was lost in a brioche or a souffle, drifting along the lines of an opera, beside himself with joy at a book. Aziraphale stuttered to a stop, almost shy, faced with such intensity.

“I love it here,” he said quietly.

Crowley smiled and held out his hand. “Come. I need to show you something else.”

They wandered through room after room, not fully exploring yet, but catching tantalizing glimpses of painted murals, a large piano, endless bedrooms, each more beautiful than the last. Finally, Crowley stopped in front of a door and turned to the angel.

“Close your eyes, angel,” he said.

Aziraphale complied, and the demon led him gently into the room, placed him carefully in the center, and stepped behind him.

“Okay, open.”

Aziraphale looked around in wonder. It was a large and well-appointed room with dark gray walls and a round, dark blue Persian rug in the center. There were multiple built-in bookcases full of gorgeous and old-looking books, and an immense bed covered in gold brocade. Two windows with sumptuous silk curtains were flanked by a pair of comfortable reading chairs, and a leather-clad chaise perfect for reading stood in one corner by a small and cheerful fireplace where a log was already burning.

What made it even more breathtaking were the walls – what Aziraphale had originally taken for dark gray paint was actually wallpaper printed with endless rows of books on shelves. Books, everywhere. An entire room devoted to books in all their glory.

“Oh, my dear!” Aziraphale gasped, spinning around. “I’ve never seen anything so perfect!”

Crowley pulled him down onto the bed, and Aziraphale forgot all about anything else.

They woke up late the next morning, and brought Frederick out on the loggia with them in his cage while they drank rich, inky coffee and ate slices of bread with olive oil. The sun was shining on the water, which shone a brilliant jade-green.

“What do you think, Frederick?” Crowley asked.

SMELLS LIKE FISH! Frederick said. I LIKE IT. ARE THERE SEAGULLS HERE?

“Yes there are,” Aziraphale answered. “And no, you aren’t to fight with any of them. Remember, you could be napping.”

Frederick sulked a little, but acquiesced. As a reward, Aziraphale took him out for a few minutes and let him see over the edge of the balcony and watch the people coming and going on the water below.

WHY ARE THE ROADS ALL WET? Frederick hissed. THIS PLACE IS CRAZY.

Aziraphale chuckled and held Frederick securely. It wouldn’t do to have their vacation start with the snake taking an unscheduled swim.

“What should we do today?” he asked Crowley.

“Well, if memory serves,” Crowley said, “I think one of the nicest things to do here is just to walk around and get lost. You always find something good.”

“And then perhaps lunch,” Aziraphale said. “I’d love to find the fish market. Haven’t been there in at least 150 years!”

Crowley grinned. “Let’s do that.”

They finished their coffees, set Frederick up in his cage by a nice window that did not unlock or open, and went about their first morning in town.

They passed several lovely days enjoying leisurely mornings on the loggia followed by relaxing adventures. They took the vaporetto here and there, walked for miles, and tried to find the most beautiful side canal in Venice. They shopped, they ate at wonderful restaurants, and quickly found all the best spots for a snack. Crowley became fond of finding dark corners to kiss the angel in on their way home from dinner, once almost accidentally knocking them both into a smaller side canal in his passion.

After that, they were a little more careful. No one with any sense would voluntarily go for a swim there.

They had just returned from a long and decadent meal one night when Crowley stopped inside the front door and scented the air. Something was different. The angel met his eyes, noticing it too. There was a faint but pervasive scent of sulfur.

“Frederick!” Aziraphale shouted, running for the kitchen where they’d left him. “Frederick, are you all right?”

The snake uncurled himself lazily and flicked a tongue out.

WHAT? He shrieked. I SWEAR I DIDN’T YELL ANYTHING AT THAT SEAGULL EARLIER. I DON’T EVEN SPEAK ITALIAN!

Crowley clucked his tongue. “You say whatever you want to the seagulls, Frederick. Was someone here while we were gone?”

I DON’T THINK SO, Frederick said. JUST ME AND SOME BIRDS OUTSIDE THE WINDOW.

Crowley looked around in consternation – and then they both saw it.

A small black envelope, sitting right in the middle of the kitchen counter. It had not been there when they left.

“What is that?” Aziraphale asked, although he already had a sinking feeling he knew.

“It’s from Hell,” Crowley said, eyeing the black envelope with distaste. “Should we burn it unopened?”

“Perhaps we should see what it says first.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow and quickly slid it open. He pulled out a small, neatly written card and examined it for a moment in silence.

“It’s from Dagon,” he said. “It’s a request for parley, tomorrow.”

“Any idea why?”

“No,” Crowley admitted. “But of all of them, Dagon’s not the worst. She’s ok, basically, for a demon. I mean, she’ll melt your face off if given cause, but she’ll be up front about it.”

Aziraphale grimaced. “How reassuring. So you’re going to accept it?”

“If you don’t object, yes.”

“I don’t object,” Aziraphale said, “but I’m coming along.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, but only for form’s sake. “Of course you are, angel. Like I could stop you.”

They set the meeting up for St. Mark’s Square at eleven the next morning – better to be in public, and there was almost nowhere in Venice that was likely to be more crawling with tourists at any time of the day. Plus, there were pigeons. Crowley seemed to recall that Dagon liked pigeons. That might work in their favor.

They arrived early and staked out a table at one of the ubiquitous sidewalk cafes that dotted the square – one in full view to afford them some protection, and yet slightly secluded to afford them privacy. Aziraphale, unable to help himself, ordered full tea service and settled back, looking slightly grim, with his hands folded across his stomach as they waited.

The waiter showed up first, bearing a large, linen-covered tray with a gorgeous silver tea service and a tiered tray of small salmon sandwiches and tea cakes. He set everything up for them and melted into the background.

Aziraphale had just picked up to pour when there was a small, controlled flash and a stench of sulfur as Dagon appeared.

“Crowley. Aziraphale.” Dagon said with a controlled sneer. For a demon, this was demonstrating politeness. To greet another demon without a sneer was the height of disrespect. To greet an angel without a sneer was the height of foolishness.

Crowley nudged out the chair opposite him with one long foot. “Have a seat,” he said, tone neutral.

Notes:

Ok, did anyone really believe me at the beginning when I said you'd maybe get one chapter a week? Cuz you shouldn't have. :)

Chapter 4: Venice, Part Two

Summary:

In which Aziraphale gets Rat squared away, avoids a lecture, and goes on a terrifying boat ride.

Notes:

This chapter is 100% fluff with very little plot. Enjoy!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

They had dinner at a small, intimate trattoria with dark walls and flickering candles on the tables. The waiter laid platters of fried squid and pasta in front of them, and Aziraphale made sure to get plenty of wine into Crowley rather quickly, to help him calm down. The angel also quietly coached Rat through his first actual meal on Earth, helping him understand how to order, how to sit, which fork to use. Through it all, Crowley was mostly silent, but Aziraphale could feel him relax slightly with each bite of food and sip of wine.

When they’d reached the end of most of the food and called for small coffees and more wine, Aziraphale pushed his plate away and cleared his throat.

“All right,” he said, “I’ve been thinking, and here’s what I propose.”

Both Crowley and Rat looked at him expectantly.

“Rat, whether you planned this or not, you’re on earth to stay now. We’re partially responsible for that, so I think we have an obligation to help you,” he said, looking at Crowley who grimaced but didn’t jump in to disagree. “That said, though, we’re on a special trip right now that is going to last for some weeks, and it’s important that we have some time alone. It’s a – it’s an Earth custom that after people are married, they take a trip like this, alone. Just the two of them.”

“Oh, man,” Rat said, having the grace to look a little abashed. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Aziraphale said, hand waving. “I assume you’re not adverse to being based in London, like we are?” Rat indicated his assent.

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, who seemed to understand what he was thinking, and then explained that they had an empty apartment in Mayfair that could be Rat’s home base for now. They would spend the next day giving him a basic orientation to the immediate things he would need to know -- how to buy things at a shop, and how to keep his head down and blend in -- and then they would miracle him to Mayfair where he could spend the next few weeks watching human television and learning as much as he could about their customs until they got home. Crowley had already set the flat up with the basics he would need – a bed, a television, a couch, and several years’ worth of sitcoms like Friends and Seinfeld on DVD.

“If you get into any trouble,” Aziraphale said, “you can of course contact us. But with any luck the time will pass quickly and you will hardly miss us before we’re back. Is that acceptable to everyone?”

Crowley nodded. “I think that’s fine. There’s not much left in the apartment, but whatever there is you can certainly use.”

Rat swallowed. “I get to stay in the Serpent’s old apartment?” he breathed. “Dudes, that’s totally fine! I’m… I’m honored!”

Crowley sighed. “You have to stop the hero worship thing, Rat,” he said, “that’s what got us into this mess.”

“Right, boss,” Rat said happily, attacking his tiramisu with a butter knife until Aziraphale gently corrected him to use a spoon. He licked the spoon with a loud, messy slurping sound that attracted a few stares. Aziraphale sighed. This would be a long work in progress.

“And the bookstore is completely off limits until we’re back,” he added. “Do you understand? There are dangerous things in there and I will not allow you to touch or examine anything without me present.”

Rat gave a mock salute. “No problem, boss number two.”

Aziraphale frowned. “I’m not your boss.”

“No, but you’re my boss’s husband, so…” Rat took another disgusting lick of his spoon. “Friend of the boss is a friend of mine. You scratch my back, I scratch –”

“No one will be scratching anyone,” Aziraphale interrupted, a little too firmly to be completely kind, but Rat seemed not to notice.

They brought Rat back to the palazzo with them that night and Aziraphale saw to settling him into the bedroom furthest away from their own and providing him with some reading material and a quick overview of sleep. Then he closed the door to that wing of the house and made his way back to their beautiful book-lined bedroom to see how his love was holding up.

Crowley was lying on the bed, shoes kicked off, when he walked in. Aziraphale smiled and flopped down beside him.

“So, didn’t we have something to discuss?” Crowley drawled, pulling a stern face. “Your utterly unhelpful sense of humor earlier, I believe?”

Aziraphale scoffed and planted a kiss on Crowley’s temple. “You can’t possibly want to scold me right now, can you?” he asked, kissing his way down to the demon’s neck. “I mean, really, don’t we have better things to do?”

Crowley groaned and closed his eyes. “You’re not supposed to use wiles on me, angel. You’re supposed to be in trouble, here.”

Aziraphale planted a few more kisses. “You’re right, you’re right, of course.”

“I’m quite cross with you,” the demon protested, in between moans.

Aziraphale raked his fingernails across Crowley’s scalp in a way he knew produced shivers and then ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re insufferable,” the demon said feebly.

“Mmm,” Aziraphale said, paying no attention whatsoever. “Whatever you say, dear.”

The scolding never materialized.

The next day they gave Rat the most exhaustive course in modern commerce they could manage, bought him a few essentials including a cell phone, a toothbrush and a change of clothes, taught him how to operate a television set and send a text, and then miracled him back to London. Then they collapsed together onto one of the settees in their palazzo and took a much-needed deep breath.

They received a text just a few minutes later.

DUDES, I’M HERE. IN LONDON. ALL IS WELL.

“Did all that really just happen?” Crowley asked. He still felt a little dazed.

“I believe so,” Aziraphale said, pulling Crowley in to lean against his chest.

“I’m now permanently attached to that… creature?”

Aziraphale hummed, petting Crowley’s hair. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it. But he’s not too bad, Rat. It could’ve been much worse.”

“I suppose…”

“He’s young and energetic, but he’ll develop his own interests. We’ll just see ourselves as his mentors, I think,” Aziraphale said. “Help him get launched into the world.”

Crowley mumbled and curled up into Aziraphale’s arms. “Let’s sleep for a few days, okay?”

Aziraphale planted a kiss on top of his head. “Sounds lovely, dear.”

“I know what I want to do today, angel,” Crowley said, two days later. Aziraphale looked up from the velvet chaise where he was reading and watched the demon, who had thrown open the front curtains and was standing in front of the large picture window overlooking the Grand Canal. He was dressed in his black silk pajamas and looked, Aziraphale had to admit, rumpled and utterly gorgeous.

Aziraphale wandered over to wrap an arm around him from behind and gazed over his shoulder to see what the demon was looking at.

“What’s that, then?” he asked, nuzzling.

The demon pointed. “I want to drive one of those.”

Aziraphale followed his pointing arm down towards a very sleek, highly luxurious, wood paneled motorboat that was whipping through the sea-green canal and generating a large wave in its wake. A man in a fine-cut suit was standing at the driver’s bench, one hand elegantly draped over the wheel. The sun glinted off his dark sunglasses. As they watched he kicked the throttle up another notch or two and picked up speed.

Oh dear, Aziraphale thought. That looks dangerous.

“I’m not sure they let people rent those,” the angel said cautiously. “There are nautical laws.”

“Oh bollocks,” Crowley said. “I’m sure we can figure something out.” He turned around and gave the angel a series of small kisses, followed by a devastating smile. “C’mon, angel, let’s have some fun.”

Aziraphale knew when he had lost. He was helpless against certain expressions and they both knew it.

“Oh, all right,” he said. “But if you get a fast boat ride, I get a slow one. As in a gondola ride. At sunset.”

“Deal!”

Crowley wandered down to the nearest pier and had a few words with the boatmen who were working there, trying to find out how he could get his hands on something small and fast. One of them seemed to take to the demon immediately, and within an hour they were handing over an extremely thick wad of cash to an old man with a wind-weathered face who handed them keys, warned them not to come back if they crashed it, and left them to their own devices.

The boat he directed them to was a beauty, a small Riva yacht built for speed, all sleek wood and chrome, with a shiny, sharp point in the front. It had four gorgeous bucket seats upholstered in white leather, and a variety of little cabinets and cubby holes filled with treats and needed equipment.

“Crowley, this is a very expensive boat,” Aziraphale said, wringing his hands.

“It is!” Crowley grinned. “And it goes really fast. Fastest small yacht on the market.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, fretfully. “Lovely.”

“They call it ‘the Bentley of the sea,” Crowley continued, looking incredibly pleased. “Did you know that? I think it’s a sign we were meant to do this.”

Aziraphale tried to swallow his nerves as he climbed on board. He’d dressed for the day in a pale cream cashmere sweater with a jaunty blue scarf he knew would flap becomingly in the wind, and Crowley was wearing slim, Italian-cut jeans with a dashing leather coat and looked, the angel had to admit, perfectly at home standing behind the wheel.

The angel wanted to ask if Crowley was sure he knew how to drive this, but he knew that would ruin the fun of it for his spouse, so he just silently prayed that all would be well and settled into the passenger seat as Crowley turned the key and started the engine.

Crowley expertly puttered the boat backwards out of the dock with the throttle low, easing the angel’s nerves considerably, and cut the wheel to the right when they emerged to turn them into traffic towards San Salute and out beyond it into the Venetian Lagoon. He set a reasonable rate of speed and spent a few minutes getting familiar with the controls.

Aziraphale was just beginning to relax when Crowley navigated them out into open waters, turned to grin at the angel in a way that made his heart drop, and slammed the throttle to the floor. The boat leapt ahead, pushing the angel back against his seat. The boat bounced against the surface of the jade green waters, pushing up an enormous spray behind them. Aziraphale clutched the rail next to him and tried to steady his breathing when he noticed a group of smaller fishing boats up ahead of them.

“Crowley, you’re going to hit the –” he yelled, just as Crowley threw the wheel and whipped them hard to the left, laughing maniacally as they swung hard to port and narrowly missed the smaller vessels. He continued to wind them in and out of traffic at terrifying speed, cut closer to the various small islands in the lagoon than was strictly necessary, and generally cause mayhem at every turn. Aziraphale all but stopped praying and instead began flicking random soothing miracles at nearly everyone they passed.

Finally, out in clear water, Crowley cut the engine and let them bob in the water for a moment of blissful calm.

“What?” he asked the angel, finding him standing primly holding onto the edge of the wind screen and looking slightly green around the gills.

“Do you feel better now?” Aziraphale asked, proud of how calm his voice sounded.

The demon grinned, looking extremely proud of himself. “Yeah-huh.”

“Good,” Aziraphale said. “Now if you’ll just excuse me, I think I’ll walk back.”

“You can’t walk on water.”

“Of course I can,” Aziraphale said. “I’ve done it before.”

“Well, yes, you could,” Crowley said, “But it will attract a lot of attention, and that’s never a good idea.”

Aziraphale glanced around and noted how many people were out and about on the water on this beautiful, sunny fall day and sighed. Crowley was right. He just couldn’t risk it right now. Why couldn’t it be rainy and overcast? He considered walking along the bottom of the lagoon – he could do that, too, if he wanted, it wasn’t like he really needed to breathe – but who knew what was down there. Best not, he decided with a sigh. He was stuck in this infernal boat with this infernal maniac he happened to be married to.

The angel flopped down in his seat and huffed. His beautiful scarf that was supposed to flutter in the wind had blown off miles ago and was undoubtedly adorning a fish by now.

“I lost my scarf,” he said peevishly.

“I’ll get you another one,” Crowley said, coming to drape himself on the angel’s lap.

Aziraphale crossed his arms and pretended indifference.

“I brought champagne…” the demon sing-songed.

The angel raised one eyebrow but didn’t soften yet.

“And chocolates…”

Aziraphale smiled. “Oh FINE. All right. I’ll stay in the boat. But I’m going to need a very large glass of that champagne right now, if you don’t mind.”

Crowley smiled and went off to get it.

They had a long, leisurely lunch outdoors at the Rialto fish market, eating platters of mixed seafood served hot and cold, pots of creamy bacalao, and warm fresh bread paired with many glasses of sparkling prosecco. Aziraphale sat back and enjoyed the look of happiness on Crowley’s face; now that they’d survived it, in retrospect the motorboat seemed like it had been an excellent idea. Crowley had clearly burned off some adrenaline and tension, and he was fairly certain the demon hadn’t thought about his new assistant in at least the last twelve hours. It was wonderful to see him relaxed.

Afterwards, they walked hand in hand back over the Rialto bridge and back towards home, where Crowley went off to play with the grand piano and Aziraphale retreated to the balcony with Frederick, who seemed to be in a friendly mood.

“How are you liking Venice?” he asked the snake.

Frederick flickered his tongue in a way that the angel had come to know meant contentment. The afternoon sun shown onto the balcony, offering the snake a little pool of light to curl up in on his owner’s lap. Soon they were both napping, to the lovely strains of Crowley plinking out something that sounded a little demonic on the piano.

“Angel,” Crowley said some indeterminate amount of time later. “Let’s go have that gondola ride; it’s time.”

Aziraphale looked around, surprised to find he had slept so long – it was nearly sunset, and the waters of the canal were bathed in long stripes of oranges and pinks.

“Oh no, I’ve overslept!” Aziraphale said. “By the time we find a gondola, we’ll have missed it.”

Crowley gave him a wink and held out his hand, taking Frederick in one hand and helping the angel to his feet with the other. “Not at all, love,” he said, leading him to the edge of the balcony. “Look down.”

Aziraphale leaned forward and peeked over the rail down at the palazzo’s private water dock – and was surprised to see a gondola waiting there. The gondolier waved cheerily to him, and he waved back before turning a pleased smile on his mate.

“Oh aren’t you the cleverest,” he said, tickled.

Crowley grinned. “Let’s take Frederick with us,” he said, “as a reward for behaving so well. What do you think?”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “I suppose that will be fine, if he agrees to not go for a swim.”

Crowley lifted the snake to eye level. “Do you want to go on a boat with us?”

OF COURSE I DO! Frederick shrieked. WHAT’S A BOAT?

Crowley laughed. “It’s a car that moves on water. You can come, but you have to stay with us and you can’t go swimming. There are sea monsters in the canals that eat snakes on sight.”

OKAY, Frederick said. Then a beat. YOU’RE LYING THOUGH, RIGHT?

Crowley grinned and did not answer. They bundled up against the gathering chill and headed down to the dock.

SERIOUSLY, Frederick said to Aziraphale, HE’S LYING ABOUT THE SEA MONSTERS, RIGHT?

Aziraphale, who couldn’t understand him, booped him gently on the nose and tucked him in his coat pocket.

GUYS? Frederick called. SERIOUSLY?

They reclined in the gondola, side by side on the red velvet seats, as the gondolier behind them quietly rowed them along through the grand canal and then through a variety of romantic smaller canals. Aziraphale used a small miracle to ensure that he didn’t notice when he took Frederick out for a good look around. The snake looked tinier than usual against the backdrop of the city, his eyes wide and reflecting the golds and oranges and creams of the buildings and the sunset around them. The snake was quiet and looked at everything, flicking out his tongue to scent things, and stayed curled around Aziraphale’s neck. He seemed a little intimidated by a world so different from London.

Crowley wound his fingers through Aziraphale’s and leaned his head on the angel’s shoulder, just taking in the quiet sights and sounds of a gondola ride and evening in this wonderful place. Once they were outside the main canal they got a sense of normal life in Venice, seeing people walking home from work along the canals, laying out dinner on their balconies, tending to their gardens. It was beautiful and ancient and very peaceful.

Aziraphale sighed happily. “This is one of the most beautiful places in the world, Crowley. You made an excellent first pick, here.”

Crowley smiled. “Knew you’d like it,” he said. He turned around and slid a large tip to the gondolier to take them around for the whole ride again. Why not continue this a little longer? He pulled a small fur blanket out of the bottom of the boat and tucked it around them, getting them both comfortable. Soon they’d stop and have a sumptuous late dinner somewhere, but first he wanted a little more of this feeling.

“I think,” Aziraphale said, “that perhaps it’s time to move on to our next destination soon. What do you think, dear?”

Crowley thought. “I think I could stay here forever,” he said, “but I’m ready to see what you have in store for me, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled. “It’s very different from this, I guarantee you. Much… cozier, for one. I think you’ll like it very much.”

Crowley smiled and leaned back to take in the purpling sky above them. “How could I not?” he asked. “After all, you’ll be there.”

AND ME, Frederick shrieked.

“And Frederick,” Crowley repeated.

The earliest stars began to wink out overhead and the waters parted around them as they drifted along, a family of three, awash in the beauty of the world.

Notes:

Thank you so much for all of your many comments so far! I hope you're enjoying the lack of tension in this chapter. Didn't I promise you fluff?
A slight request - please don't send corrections if I got a bunch of boat-related things wrong. I did do a bunch of research on how one drives a small boat like the Riva I had in mind here and what the parts of it are called, but rest assured that if I got it wrong, it's just going to stay that way and I would rather not hear about it. :) Thank you and I appreciate your forebearance!

Chapter 5: Finland

Summary:

The boys head to the snowy North, where they make some unexpected discoveries about Finnish folklore.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The next morning, Aziraphale spent an hour on the phone setting up some details, then whisked them off to the airport for a first-class flight to Lapland, on the northern edge of Finland.

Once they arrived, they were met by a private car and driven further north for another hour before they pulled up in front of a cabin that was half log cabin and half glass-dome. There was a light dusting of October snowfall and the cabin was lit up in gold from within and looked gorgeous and welcoming in the dimming, blue light of evening.

They were shepherded inside and given a quick tour. A huge stone fireplace bracketed one end of the main cabin, surrounded by two gorgeous leather couches and bookcases. There was a glass-fronted reading nook looking out at the forest, a small dining area, and a small but tastefully appointed kitchen. The fridge and bar were fully stocked with everything from bread and coffee to smoked fish to a variety of Finnish liquors. The floor and walls were grayed wood, with thick textured rugs and creamy white and tan fur blankets, cable knit throws, warm textured pillows. A back deck held a private sauna and hot tub.

Their host explained that the main lodge offered a full-service restaurant and a variety of amenities, and that they had both a full-time butler and concierge at their beck and call. He showed them how to operate the sauna and hot tub, control the fireplace, and call for assistance before leaving them to settle in. He announced that the butler would bring a simple dinner for them in about forty-five minutes.

“This is beautiful!” Crowley said, looking around.

“Oh, you haven’t seen the best part yet,” the angel said, taking his hand. “Come see the bedroom.”

The bed was placed in the glass igloo portion of the house, with its headboard facing the one wall and its other three sides surrounded by glass. Crowley whistled softly when he first stepped into the room – it featured a soft featherbed heaped with pillows and covered in furs, with glowing lanterns and crystal-clear glass panes offering them a full and unobstructed view of the northern sky and surrounding trees.

Crowley dove onto the bed in a dramatic belly flop and rolled over to look up at the angel. “Very nice! You were right about cozy!”

“We can lie in bed and watch the Northern Lights at night,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley’s eyes widened appreciatively. He walked over to a cupboard set into the wooden wall near the head of the bed and opened it. “And look! Robes and slippers and warm silk thermal underwear and thick fur coats and warm, waterproof boots for both of us. “

“Snow seems to be falling harder out there,” Crowley noted. “Seems a little early in the season for that much snow, angel. You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?”

Aziraphale grinned innocently. “I have no idea what you could mean by that,” he said primly.

The unusual snow continued to fall all night, and in the morning Aziraphale woke up to a solid foot of snow blanketed all around them, dropping occasionally from the bough of a pine tree with a solid WHUFF. He wandered out to the kitchen where he found the coffee press and set about making a lovely tray of coffee and nibbles for his love. Then he checked on Frederick, who they’d placed a safe distance from the fireplace with a thick blanket under his cage.

“Morning,” he whispered to Freddy, who uncoiled and looked up at him curiously. “We’re in Finland,” he said, intuiting the question on the snake’s mind. “North of the Arctic Circle. Where reindeers live. It’s very snowy and cold, but you’ll be nice and cozy here in the cabin. We will make sure you stay warm.”

Frederick made a mental note to ensure the pointy one got him a sweater of his very own later, then curled back up for some sleep.

They didn’t leave the cabin for the first two days – it was just so cozy and lovely, moving lazily between the pile of furs on the bed and the blazing fire and the sauna. They slowly sampled each of the Finnish alcohols – from cloudberry liquor (delicious) to an odd form of mead that appeared to have been made on site (questionable), to their favorite, the slightly sweet kossu vodka that they both developed a strong taste for. They spent an absurd amount of time sipping shots in front of the fire and were both absolutely happy about it.

Aziraphale enjoyed the electric sauna they had on their deck, up to a point, but he found he couldn’t tolerate it for as long as Crowley and Frederick did. Those two, he was convinced, would live in there if it was socially acceptable. He would often look up from having his nose buried in a book and find that they two of them had disappeared again, and he would almost undoubtedly find them there, with the temperature cranked up to the maximum heat allowed.

Aziraphale popped open the door one afternoon and peeked in, trying to blink through the steam that assaulted his eyes. “Are you two all right in here? It’s been hours. You’re really not supposed to stay in this heat for more than twenty minutes you know.”

“Thass for humans, angel.” Crowley, laying naked on the cedar bench, waved his bundle of birch branches at Aziraphale in utter indolence. Frederick, who appeared to be stretched out full length on the other bench, hissed quietly. “Doesn’t apply to ussss. We’re snakessss.”

“Oh, good lord.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Can I at least bring you a drink of some kind?”

“Vodka?” Crowley asked hopefully.

“Water, I think.” Aziraphale said. He filled up two bottles with water and ice and delivered them back to his two reprobates, convinced he might not see them again until dinner, and then on impulse called the main lodge and made a dinner reservation. High time they got out of this cabin and saw more of the area.

The snake and demon did eventually emerge, both of them looking completely boneless, and Aziraphale promptly pushed Crowley, who was angling himself towards the bed in a way that the angel knew would turn into a twelve hour nap, into a cool shower to wake him up and hustled him into warm clothes and fur boots for the trek to dinner.

“We are going out, my dear.” He buttoned him into a thick wool jacket and tucked his trousers into the fur boots. “Much as I love this cabin, it’s time to get out!” He wound a scarf tightly around the demon’s neck and stepped back to admire his work.

“Can’t move!” the demon moaned, his arms stuck out at 45 degree angle from his body. “It’s too much.”

Aziraphale frowned, then loosened and retied the scarf, and opened a button or two on the top of the jacket. “Better?”

Crowley grunted, then watched with narrowed eyes as Aziraphale simply pulled on a pair of fur boots and a relatively light coat himself before heading to the front door. “Coming, love?”

“Why do I get bundled up like the Michelin man and you just look like you’re in London in a slight chill?” Crowley complained.

“Because *I* didn’t spend the entire day raising my body temperature to 175 degrees, dear,” Aziraphale said primly, settling a light wool hat over his curls. “You are going to go into shock if you go out in the cold right now.”

They trudged through the knee-deep snow for the ten-minute walk to the main lodge, leaving deep pathways behind them in the otherwise unbroken snow.

The lodge was an enormous log cabin-style structure with a tower. They were ushered inside by a doorman and taken into an intimate dining room where they were seated in front of the most unusual fireplace either of them had ever seen – it looked like the fireplace had grown, organically, out of the forest floor, made up of twining, twisting tree trunks and branches from at least six or seven different trees, with a brick hearth in the middle. The entire room felt like eating in a forest, with bright burnished wood everywhere and ornate silk lanterns hanging from the ceiling casting an orange glow. They were seated privately at the end nearest the fire of one long, communal table, and a waiter quickly helped them out of their heavy coats and wrappers and squirreled them away out of sight.

They started dinner with a bracing aperitif of Aquavit and then were served dish after dish of traditional Finnish cuisine, served in small artful arrangements and bursting with flavor. They even, with some reluctance, tasted reindeer.

“Not bad,” Crowley said. “Tastes kind of like chicken.”

Aziraphale made a ‘you philistine’ type of face and primly dabbed his lips with his napkin.

The settled back to enjoy the fire as they finished up with hot brandies.

“You know, dearest,” Aziraphale said with a fond look, “they have a traditional smoke sauna here that can be reserved. Takes six hours to heat it up or so. Would you like to try it tomorrow?”

Crowley downed his drink and gestured to the waiter hovering at a discreet distance for another. “That sounds great, angel, let’s do it! You’ll come too, right?”

“Of course! I’ll speak to the concierge about it.” Aziraphale accepted another drink as well. “Also, the concierge told me earlier that they expect a good show tonight from the Aurora Borealis. Around midnight. The last two nights were a little too foggy.”

Crowley checked the time on his overly complicated watch. “That’s ninety minutes from now. We need to get going, angel.”

Aziraphale took a sip, slowly, and savored it before swallowing. “What’s the rush? Home is ten minutes away.”

Crowley leaned back and raised an eyebrow wickedly. “Well yes, but first I have to get you out of all those heavy clothes. And then we have to get under the big pile of furs. And then we will be distracted and have other things we want to do for a while, and we might miss the whole aurora entirely if we don’t give ourselves adequate time.”

Aziraphale laughed. “All right, all right,” he said. “I’m sold. Let’s go. We can speak to the staff about the smoke sauna on the way out.”

They laid in bed that night beneath the warm furs and watched through the glass ceiling as ripples of green and blue waved across the dark, moonless sky for nearly an hour. Despite being celestial beings who had lived for thousands of years, it was the first time either of them had seen the northern lights, and they both found themselves spellbound by it.

Crowley ran his fingers through the angel’s curls as they watched. “If it weren’t so cold, I’d say let’s go fly in it. Can you imagine?”

The angel wiggled. “Oh, that would be delightful! Perhaps we could modify some of the woolen underwear to let us be fully covered and have our wings out?”

“I think I’d freeze to death, angel. Part snake, you know.”

“Oh well,” the angel said. “It’s a lovely thought, but the view is pretty great from here too.”

Crowley laid a kiss on top of his head, then on his lips as Aziraphale raised his head agreeably to indicate he’d welcome more.

They might have missed the rest of the light show.

The next afternoon, they trudged over to the main lodge for their appointment in the smoke sauna. A young Finnish woman named Anni met them, to explain the etiquette and history of the smoke sauna. She explained that the smoke sauna was a tradition dating back thousands of years, and that to Finns, the smoke sauna was as sacred as a church.

“It’s important that you behave with respect while in the sauna,” she explained with a smile. “Please speak quietly and don’t roughhouse. We consider this one of the most important of our cultural rituals.”

They disrobed and showered, then wrapped themselves in a towel before they were ushered into the small wooden structure that housed the sauna, happy to have it to themselves today. Two square holes in the sides were venting smoke, and Aziraphale wondered briefly if he was going to find his eyes red and his lungs stinging from the smoke inside, but instead he found the interior to be soft and lovely and wood-smoke scented but not in a way that was overwhelming. He kept his wrap on and took a seat near the door and closer to the ground in a position that Anni had explained was slightly less hot, while Crowley stripped down and immediately sat as close to the rocks and heat source as possible.

Aziraphale smiled as Crowley let out a long and blissful sigh and settled back on the bench with his legs stretched out in front of him.

“Nice, isn’t it?” he asked lazily.

“Actually, it is!” Aziraphale stretched and let himself relax back against the seat behind him. “It’s less hot than the electric sauna on the deck. Feels gentler, somehow.”

Crowley murmured in response and became, if possible, even more relaxed. They laid in contented silence for the next twenty minutes or so.

The angel took a sip from the cider their host had provided each of them and picked up the birch whisk he’d been given. Part of the process was apparently to flick the birch whisk, which looked like nothing so much as a bundle of branches with the leaves still attached, against your skin from time to time to increase the circulation and open the pores. He gave himself an exploratory pat with it, wondering if it would sting, but it didn’t. It felt nice. He repeated it a few more times.

“Flagellating yourself?” Crowley drawled, one eye open to watch. “Because you can come over here and do that to me, if you want.”

Aziraphale blushed. “Oh, stop that. It’s like church, remember? Don’t be flirtatious.”

Crowley patted the seat next to him. “I don’t see what’s wrong with being flirtatious in a church. After all, you’re my husband! It’s not like I’m trying to pick up some hot young angel I just met.”

“If I come sit there, will you be quiet?” Aziraphale huffed.

Crowley nodded his assent, and Aziraphale came over to sit next to him. The demon laid a hand on his back, affectionately, but didn’t seem to be in a mood to cause any further trouble, so he decided to allow it.

All was well for another ten minutes, until Aziraphale felt Crowley’s hand creeping a little lower and coming to rest on his bum. The angel slapped Crowley with his birch branches.

“Behave,” he told the pouting demon.

“Don’t wanna,” Crowley said, tracing a finger across Aziraphale’s shoulders. “I’m warm and happy and you’re here and I want to touch you. You’re all sweaty and delicious looking.” He leaned in and flicked his tongue on the angel’s shoulder. “I bet you’re all salty.”

Aziraphale grinned in spite of himself and leaned over and gave the demon a chaste kiss. “That’s very flattering, but I don’t think we should. It’s not like it’s our private sauna.”

Crowley looked around. “I don’t see anyone else in here.” He pulled Aziraphale back in for a longer kiss and placed a hand on his knee.

Aziraphale tried to remain firm. “My dear, this is a sacred place, remember?”

“It’s a sauna, angel, not a temple.” Crowley slid his hand a little further up the angel’s leg. “And you’re so pink and lovely in this heat.” He pulled a little at the bottom edge of Aziraphale’s towel, trying to dislodge the tuck holding it closed.

Aziraphale closed his eyes to summon some rather hard-to-find willpower, then moved down three feet, out of his partner’s reach. “I don’t think so, dear.”

“This is stupid,” Crowley muttered. “It’s not a church, there’s nothing sacred here – it’s just a steamy, smoky room! Just because people here are superstitious doesn’t mean I can’t make the moves on you if I want to… It’s just a BUILDING!“

The angel gasped. “Crowley, really, you need to not say things like that!”

Crowley muttered but settled down. Aziraphale fanned himself and looked around for his drink – where had he put it down? He scanned the room and noticed it over in the far corner by the door where he’d been sitting before. He wandered over to pick it up and took a long drink. He was just turning to put it down when he caught sight of something very unexpected.

CRASH

Crowley sat up to locate the source of the noise and found Aziraphale staring wide-eyed at the stove, the glass he’d been holding dropped to the floor and spilled.

“Angel,” Crowley cried. “What is it?” He looked around in the general direction where Aziraphale was looking but he didn’t see anything unusual.

Aziraphale blinked several times and then shook his head. “I thought I saw – just for a minute there was – “ He took a deep breath. “No, never mind.”

“What was it?”

“I thought I saw a small woman in the corner behind the stove. She was looking your way, and she didn’t look very happy.”

“A small woman?” Crowley sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “Like an elf?”

“Yes, somewhat.” Aziraphale pursed his lips sternly. “I’m aware that sounds ridiculous. But it was really rather vivid if it was just a hallucination.”

Crowley turned and looked again. “Nothing there now,” he said. “Let’s relax a little bit more, angel. You might just have gotten a little bit dehydrated.”

The angel used his towel and a little of the water for the rocks to clean up his spilled drink, then carefully tidied his cup and dirty towel away so that everything was pristine again. Then he added a ladle-full of water to the rocks on top of the stove and sat down on a new towel in the corner, a bit away from the demon, and kept a watchful eye on the entire room.

They left about a half hour later. Oddly enough, Crowley slipped twice on the way back, and by the time they arrived he was totally soaked from the snowy ground. Aziraphale bundled him out of his wet outer clothing and nudged him close to the fire to warm up while he made some cocoa.

“Are you all right, dear?” Aziraphale asked. “You were so warm from the sauna and now you’re looking slightly blue!”

Crowley shivered and took a deep drink of his cocoa. “I’m fine, just got lots of snow inside my clothes on that second fall.” He tucked the fur throw around himself more tightly. “Already warming up.”

“I’ll call to have dinner brought in tonight, love,” Aziraphale said.

The evening continued to be rife with mishaps. Every time Crowley left the fireside, he seemed to find nothing but drafts. He spilled his tea and painfully found a bone in his fish during dinner. One of his warm fur slippers, which were usually placed neatly by the side of the bed by the butler, was nowhere to be found – even their magical powers couldn’t turn it up. There was a strange new hole in his thermal pajamas.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley moaned upon discovering the rip, “what is happening? Did someone curse me?”

The angel wrinkled his forehead like he was taking this joke seriously. “Hrm. Well actually…”

Crowley scoffed. “Oh, come on, I was just kidding.”

Aziraphale smiled distractedly. “Of course, of course.” He pushed Crowley back into his armchair near the fire and wrapped him up warmly, then brought Frederick over to snuggle with him. “Will you two excuse me for a bit? I want to check in with the ladies in the main lodge about something.”

Crowley blinked as Frederick slipped inside the blankets and onto his chest.

YO SNAKEBIRD, he said sleepily. DON’T MIND ME. COLD IN HERE.

“Back soon!” Aziraphale called, already engulfed in his massive coat and boots and on his way out the door.

Aziraphale stomped the snow off his boots and entered the lodge, looking around for one of the women who had set up the sauna visit for him. He found her behind the information desk, making careful notes on a clipboard.

“Mr. Fell!” the older woman, whose nametag said Minea. “How was the sauna today? I hope you enjoyed it!”

The angel smiled warmly. “It was just lovely! Very soft and easier to take the heat, somehow, than I find the steam saunas to be. I very much enjoyed it!”

“Let us know if you’d like to visit it again, sir, we’d be happy to set it up for you any time.”

“Thank you!” Aziraphale paused. “I have a question for you, though. This will sound a little strange.”

The woman leaned forward on her elbows and smiled conspiratorially. “What’s that?”

“Well, you see,” Aziraphale cleared his throat nervously. “I thought for a moment that I saw something while we were in there.”

Minea’s eyebrows raised. “What did you see?”

“A woman? Behind the stove? Rather short?”

Minea drew in an excited breath. “Oh, my friend, you’ve been blessed! That’s the saunatonttu! They don’t let just anyone see them!”

“What’s a saunatonttu?”

“A tonttu is a protective spirit, associated with particular buildings. There are house tonttut and stable tonttut, and, of course, sauna tonttut. They’re somewhat like what you would call a gnome, I believe?” Minea smiled. “Part of our traditional folklore, but many people still believe in them. We leave them small gifts, but we almost never see them.” She motioned over another young woman who was passing. “Lumi, he saw the saunatonttu!”

Notes:

The place they're staying is loosely based on this lovely place in Finnish Lapland:
Kakslauttanen
If you scroll around you can find the cabin with the glass front and the big fireplace made of trees in the restaurant. :)

Chapter 6: Fiji

Summary:

In which Aziraphale experiments with a new form of hedonism.

Notes:

In Fiji, Bula means hello. Bure is the word for a traditional wood and thatched-roof hut.
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(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Crowley strode into the Fiji police station doing his best to look like he owned the place.

“Bula! May I help you?” the friendly-looking young woman at the desk asked.

“I’m here to collect my husband?” Crowley said, as politely as he could manage, handing over the thick stack of papers indicating that all fines had been paid. “I believe he was brought here a few hours ago?”

“Ah, the English gentleman?” she asked. “Stay here, I’ll get him for you.”

Nine days earlier

“Now this is the life,” Crowley said, sprawled on the cream-colored chaise lounge on the front deck of their thatch-roofed bure. “You can’t beat Fiji for paradise.”

He was surrounded on three sides by turquoise blue water, varying in shades with the shallowness or depth, and his entire body was enveloped in warm sun. He wore only a pair of black swim trunks, and he leaned back on the bright blue pillow and closed his eyes contentedly.

Inside the bure, Aziraphale puttered around happily, unpacking and transforming their winter-in-Finland wardrobe into the tropical essentials they’d both need (very few, and mostly linen), and fussing with various furnishings and fixtures as if there were any way he could make the place more perfect than it already was.

“Angel, stop fussing and come out here and settle down on one of the lounge chairs, please,” Crowley called, happily exasperated. “This is too good to miss.”

Aziraphale wandered out wearing khaki trousers and a lightweight white linen shirt which he had rolled the sleeves up on but left fully buttoned. He handed Crowley a glass of chilled white wine and then sat down himself on the neighboring chaise. “Oh my goodness, look at all that water. It’s lovely, my dear. What an excellent choice!”

Crowley smiled. “Angel, I realize this is dressing down in your world, but you’re completely over-dressed and it’s really warm out here! At least open a few buttons…”

Aziraphale considered it for a moment. “I suppose you’re right,” he said, reaching for his neckline and opening the top two buttons. “Oh, that is better. Thank you my dear.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and took a sip of his wine. This was clearly going to take some time.

“So, what do you want to do while we’re here?” the angel asked him.

“Lie in the sun,” Crowley answered without thought. “Swim. Snorkel, perhaps? Drink a lot of cold, cold wine. Be warm, all the time. Make love,” he added with a wiggle of his eyebrows, “as much as possible.”

Aziraphale colored but beamed delightedly. “That all sounds just perfect.” He looked around at their spacious deck and then frowned as if he was remembering something. He snapped and a thick stack of glossy paperbacks appeared on the table next to him.

“What’s that?” Crowley asked lazily.

The angel picked up the top book and showed him the cover. There appeared to be a man and a woman on it in various stages of dishabille, embracing passionately on a tropical beach. Crowley raised an eyebrow.

“Beach reading,” Aziraphale said happily. “I believe the proper term is fluff? Seemed appropriate given the setting.”

“No Dickens for you, then, while in Fiji?”

“No, I believe I shall spend my time researching human romance novels,” Aziraphale said primly. “It’s a new genre for me.”

He picked up the top one and, with a happy sigh, turned to page one.

When Crowley woke up three hours later the angel was still reading, and he noted that a wine bottle, currently two thirds empty, had joined their two glasses on the table. The demon stretched and sat up, enjoying the feel of the warm deck under his bare feet. “Come on, love, let’s swim,” he said. “Do you want to go in the dip pool or straight into the ocean?”

Aziraphale reluctantly put down his book. “Ocean, I think,” he said. “Let me just get on my suit.”

Crowley took a turn around the home as Aziraphale changed in the bathroom. The deck followed two sides of the bedroom, both which had folding glass doors that allowed them to open both walls entirely to the outdoors. Inside, the bedroom was spacious with hardwood floors and woven reed coverings, and with a large canopy bed with mosquito box netting in the center, facing so they could directly watch the sun set over the sea. The edges of the traditional thatched roof hung down to frame the view nicely.

In addition, they had an indoor seating area with a large couch and a pair of woven, rattan chairs, a small but functional kitchen, and a dressing room/bathroom with a freestanding tub with its own spectacular view.

“C’mon, angel,” Crowley whined. “What’s taking so long?”

Aziraphale mumbled something and then emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a large fluffy bathrobe that revealed nothing about what he was wearing beneath, but he had sandals on his feet and Crowley couldn’t see anything that looked like shirt cuffs beneath the robe’s sleeves, so he assumed all was well. They headed to deck and down the stairs to the sandy beach just below their cabin, where another set of comfortable chairs were placed for optimal sunning.

Crowley dropped the light towels he was carrying and immediately waded in; the sea was warm as bathwater. He dove in and came up, shaking the water out of his hair, and turned around to look back at the beach, where Aziraphale was still sanding nervously, clutching his robe to himself.

Crowley’s heart clenched a little at the look on his face. The angel was not in the least bit comfortable, he knew, with revealing clothing, preferring to always be covered from neck to ankle. No amount of telling him how gorgeous he was had been able to relieve this feeling of essential modesty. The demon didn’t really mind – whatever Aziraphale wanted to wear was fine with him. He just didn’t want him to wear something because he felt bad about himself.

f*cking Gabriel, he thought, and his endless comments about Aziraphale’s gut. It was the gift that just kept on giving.

“Angel,” he called, “come on out, it’s fine! Don’t worry, it’s just us.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath and dropped his robe, revealing an old-fashioned bathing costume, complete with a striped, elbow length tee and long striped shorts that ended just above the knee.

Crowley goggled at him for a minute and then dunked his head under again to clear it. He knew one thing: he could NOT laugh at the angel or he would disappear into the house and put his full armor on again – pants, shirt, possibly even his jacket. He emerged and shook out his hair again, then smiled and extended an inviting hand to his husband.

Aziraphale let out a visible sigh of relief, obviously having expected some other reaction, and waded in to join him. Crowley wrapped an arm around his neck and hugged him close for a moment, his heart beyond full, then – because he was a demon – he pulled him down completely into the water with him, immediately dunking him under. The angel emerged spluttering and mock-outraged, and Crowley paddled away gamely as the angel chased him down for retribution.

That night they dined at the resort’s beach restaurant. Their table was placed on the sand at water’s edge, with nothing to break the view of the gorgeous sunset that was developing. They ordered mai tais and enjoyed a supper of banana leaf-wrapped grilled fish with tropical fruit garnish, local vegetables, and a decadent chocolate souffle for dessert.

They walked back to the cabin hand in hand, delivered a piece of fish to Frederick, who investigated it with interest from his cage in the sitting room, and went out on the deck to stare at the emerging stars over the water. The area was completely silent except for the lapping and shushing of the waves against the sand and the distant muffled boom of rocks rolling silently on the bottom of the water with each set of waves.

Crowley draped himself over Aziraphale from behind and kissed him lightly on the neck, then a bit more forcefully.

“Come to bed, angel,” he urged, voice husky. “And let’s leave the doors wide open tonight so we can smell the sea air all night.”

Aziraphale knew an excellent idea when he heard one.

“Angel,” Crowley said carefully the next morning over breakfast. “Do you think you might want to try actual swim trunks today? Instead of the one piece you had on yesterday?”

Aziraphale frowned as he sipped the dark, rich coffee the resort staff had dropped off in their kitchen for them. “Was what I wore wrong in some way?”

“No, not at all!” Crowley said. “Very fetching, actually. I just think you might enjoy having a little more comfortable fabric. There are some very nice longer trunks, and you could wear a tee shirt on top if you wanted to.”

Aziraphale speared and munched on a piece of mango. “I suppose I could try it. Want to come up with something for me?”

Crowley smiled, pleased at the trust this implied. He pulled out his phone for a moment and studied various options, then snapped his fingers materialized a cream-colored pair of long-seamed board shorts and a pale blue sleeveless swim tee, which he handed to the angel.

“Try these? If you don’t like them, we can go back to whatever you like, angel.”

The angel took them and disappeared into the bedroom, coming back a few minutes later wearing the outfit the demon had selected. He spun in front of Crowley, arms out at his side.

“Well? What do you think?”

“I think you look great, angel,” the demon said, “but what do you think?”

“It’s surprisingly comfortable! And it doesn’t show a lot more than what I had on yesterday. I like it!” Aziraphale leaned in and gave the demon a kiss. “Let’s try out those kayaks they left for us today, what do you say?”

A half hour later they were in two small ocean kayaks, bright orange against the brilliant blue of the water, paddling around the coastline of the island. Aziraphale took to it like a duck to water, despite never having done so before, and Crowley found himself frequently struggling to keep up. The angel, he was reminded, was surprising strong underneath his softness, and had the muscle power to propel his kayak around at top speeds without appearing to expend any effort at all. In comparison, Crowley felt a little more noodly than usual.

They stopped at a private cove on the opposite side of the island, beneath a tall cliff, and pulled their boats up onto the sand. Crowley collapsed onto his back on the sand in utter exhaustion, as the angel carefully spread out a thin beach blanket, then unpacked a bottle of champagne and a basket lunch he’d prepared.

“Dearest,” he said patiently. “Are you alive down there?”

Crowley mumbled something, but he did push up and take the helping hand the angel offered to bring him to his feet. He staggered over to the blanket and sat down, trying to pretend that all his upper body muscles weren’t trembling. He might have been able to hide it if the angel hadn’t handed him a glass of champagne – when he reached out and took it, his hand shook so badly he nearly spilled it.
Aziraphale plucked the glass out of his hands, then sat behind him and began kneading the muscles in Crowley’s shoulders. The demon sighed in relief, feeling blood return to the stricken areas as the angel worked him like bread dough. After ten more minutes, he sat back on his heels and watched as Crowley rolled his shoulders out and sighed in relief.

“Better, dear?” he asked. Crowley, now boneless for entirely different reasons, flopped down in the sand and made appreciative noises without actually forming words.

Aziraphale smiled, helped himself to the caviar and bread in the basket, and began sampling the shrimp salad and tropical fruit, carefully laying out pieces of the best items for Crowley to try as soon as he recovered.

He was on his third glass of champagne before the demon moved a muscle.

When they headed back, Aziraphale added a second seat to his kayak and popped Crowley into the seat in front. He then proceeded to row them both back while towing the other kayak without even breaking a sweat.

It was, Crowley thought, incredibly attractive.

Later that night, after they’d made love, Crowley looked up from a short nap to find Aziraphale standing on the deck, staring out over the railing towards the water. He had the linen bedsheet, which Crowley had long ago kicked off, wrapped loosely around his waist and was otherwise wearing nothing. The low, nearly full moon cast bright light over both ocean and angel, turning them silver.

Crowley slithered out of bed and joined him.

“What’re you looking at?”

Aziraphale smiled softly. “Look,” he pointed towards the open water. “There’s a group of manta rays. They like the full moon. They’re playing.”

Crowley followed the angel’s hand and quickly located several large, dark diamond shapes dipping and gliding through the shallow waters of the reef, graceful as birds. He caught his breath and watched, dumbfounded, for several minutes before turning to look at the angel beside him.

“It’s beautiful,” Crowley murmured, looking directly at him. “So unbelievably beautiful.”

Aziraphale met his gaze and pouted. “Oh now,” he said bashfully. “Not me. The mantas, my dear. How often do you get to see something like this?”

“How often,” Crowley returned, “do I get to see something like this?” He reached out and brushed a curl out of Aziraphale’s eyes. “My gorgeous husband, nearly naked in the moonlight, all strong and silvered, standing here like some kind of Greek statue? Excuse me, I’ll decide what I’m going to fawn over, thank you very much.”

Aziraphale blushed and leaned over to kiss him, before brazenly dropping the sheet. “You want to see me naked in the moonlight, my dear?” he said. “Well there you go.”

Crowley grinned. “Can I interest you in a little late-night soak in the dip pool? It’s heated!”

He held out his hand, and to his delight, the angel took it. The settled into the dip pool on the side deck, Crowley in the back with Aziraphale leaning back in between his legs, and they lolled there quietly, enjoying the stars and the quiet.

“You know, my dear, I have to admit, there’s something to be said for this swimming naked thing. It feels delightful!”

Crowley laughed. “I knew you’d come around, you utter hedonist. Perhaps in the morning I can get you to try it in the ocean? You won’t believe how good saltwater feels on your skin when there’s nothing in the way.”

Aziraphale wrinkled his nose. “Perhaps. I suppose there’s no chance anyone is going to see us right here on our own private beach.”

Crowley pulled him closer and the conversation came to an end for the moment.

I’ve created a monster, Crowley thought to himself with amusem*nt, watching as Aziraphale made it the first order of the day to try out skinny dipping in the ocean. In fact, he tried it out before Crowley was even awake. The demon woke up to an empty bed, not at all unusual for him, and wandered out on the deck to catch a glimpse of lily-white skin as the angel bobbed and floated in the waves, his back to the house.

“Started without me, did you?” Crowley called down. Aziraphale turned and waved happily. He stretched on the deck and wandered down to wade in up to his knees.

“You’ve taken to this nudity thing, haven’t you?”

Aziraphale grinned. “Well it does feel lovely, my dear. You were right. And there’s no one around!”

Crowley laughed, happy to see the angel relaxing about his body. “I’m going to make the coffee,” he said, “and then let’s go be tourists. I hear there are some great waterfalls around here.”

They spent the morning and afternoon driving from point to point on the island, visiting peaks and cliffs and waterfalls, investigated a botanical garden where Crowley saw orchids he’d never even heard of, bought some gorgeous woven fabrics, participated in a kava ceremony at a local visitors center, and eventually found themselves at a very large and deserted beach that was mostly hidden from view by high cliffs that formed a large triangle around it.

The water looked very inviting.

“Want to swim, angel?” Crowley asked.

“We didn’t bring our suits!” Aziraphale said.

Crowley raised an eyebrow and grinned at him.

Aziraphale gasped. “Here?”

“Why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” the angel said.

“That’s fine,” Crowley said, pulling off his top and unbuttoning his shorts, “but I’m going in.”

He walked a few steps into the water and then dove under, reappearing several feet away. “It’s so warm! Come in!”

The angel took a glance around – there truly was no one else around, and the small parking area at the other end of the trail had been completely empty. He shrugged, too tempted by the warm water and the feel of salt on his skin to resist. He disrobed and miracled up a couple of fluffy towels for them to use later, then dove in after Crowley.

They played and batted around in the water and examined the little fishes swimming beneath them – one advantage about being an ethereal being was that one didn’t need snorkel gear to snorkel. You could just stop breathing for however long it took and then decide firmly that saltwater wouldn’t bother your eyes. Crowley, in particular, loved to spend long stretches underwater; he did so now, going deep down to examine some corals more closely, and then following around a small green turtle he found for a few minutes until he lost sight of it.

It was so peaceful and quiet under the water that he was doubly surprised when he broke the surface to hear the loud sounds of the yelling and laughter of children.

Crowley, thankful he had surfaced some distance offshore where no one immediately noticed him, took a moment to look around wildly to see what was going on. He finally found Aziraphale standing in the shallows, feverishly tying a towel around his waist, and trying to shush a herd of school children, backpacks and notebooks in hand, and who were pointing at him and either shouting or laughing. They were saying one word over and over, a word Crowley was pretty sure translated to “naked.”

Crowley swore under his breath and miracled himself a suit before he waded out to see if he could help.

Their teacher, a man who introduced himself as Mr. Sabua, shook Crowley’s hand disapprovingly and pointed at Aziraphale, who was beet red by this point and quickly getting himself dressed while trying to hide himself behind the towel. Crowley walked over and took the towel from him, holding it up as a barrier.

“Public nakedness is forbidden in Fiji,” he said. “Your friend is breaking the law. And in front of my fourth grade class!”

Crowley looked apologetic. “We’re so sorry, we didn’t know. We’ll leave immediately.”

“No, I’m sorry,” the man said, “I’ve already called the park rangers. We take this very seriously.”

Crowley frowned. “We’re not from here, and we didn’t know we couldn’t swim without suits! Can’t we just work this out between us?”

The teacher ignored him and gathered up his kids, taking them over to sit on a rock on the other side of the clearing, where they heard him launching into a talk about respect and responsibility.

Crowley grabbed the angel, who by this time had his shorts and top back on, by the wrist. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

They hurried back up the trail and were almost to the car when they were met by a jeep carrying a park ranger and a police officer.

“We’re sorry, sir,” the police officer said to Aziraphale. “You’ll need to come with us.”

Aziraphale tutted. “I’m sure we can get this straightened out, my good fellow, we didn’t mean any harm –”

The officer turned to the teacher, who had materialized behind them. “Is this the man who flashed your group of children?”

“My dear sir, I would hardly say I flashed any –“ Aziraphale protested. “I was just looking at a starfish and had no idea the children were behind me!”

“--Yes, that’s him.”

The police officer turned to Crowley. “You can meet us at the police station in town to sort this out.” And he took a thoroughly surprised Aziraphale by the arm, stuffed him into the jeep, and they were off before Crowley could even get a word out.

Crowley used just about every swear word he knew and made a few up for good measure, as he threw himself into their ridiculous rental car and high tailed it after the jeep. He argued vociferously as Aziraphale was booked into holding and taken into the back of the station, then was handed a stack of forms and instructed to go find City Hall, where he could meet with a magistrate and deal with the fine for public indecency.

He dealt with it all as quickly as he could, which on island time was not very quickly at all, to his chagrin. Finally, several hours later when everything was taken care of and signed and paid and copied in triplicate, Crowley made his way back to the small, whitewashed police station to secure the angel’s release.

When they brought him out, Aziraphale looked mortified and exhausted, and very, very cranky. He raised his eyes to meet Crowley’s in a silent acknowledgement of the bailout, then dropped them again. He mumbled his apologies to everyone in the office and scooted out the door as quickly as proper manners would allow.

Crowley bundled him into the car and quickly got them out of town. Aziraphale looked straight out the front window with his hands folded in his lap and appeared to be carved from granite.

“Are – are you all right, angel?” Crowley asked, peering at him out of the corner of his eye.

Aziraphale continued to look out the front window. “I am right as rain,” he said, prissily. “I mean, why wouldn’t I be? It’s not every day one finds oneself arrested for public indecency and paraded through the town in shame! They should have just put me in public stocks like in the old days. It would only have been marginally more embarrassing if someone threw a tomato at me.”

Crowley winced. “You didn’t know it was illegal –”

“We didn’t know,” Aziraphale said. “YOU encouraged me to do this. Kept after me until I tried it. I never would have done it if it weren’t for you”

The demon blinked. “Well, that’s somewhat unfair. You’re the one who stripped down on the deck and decided you liked it.”

“Is it?” Aziraphale’s voice raised a few registers closer to histrionic. “I’m fairly sure you tempted me into it. The least you could’ve done in return is gotten me out of it! Waved your hands and used your new and improved powers to clear everyone’s minds so I wouldn’t get arrested!”

Crowley stuttered. “’Ziraphale, there were at least twenty school children involved, and their teacher, and the police officer! Even I can’t wipe that many minds!”

“You could have tried!” Aziraphale shouted. “Instead you just miracled your own suit back on before you got out of the water and left me there to – to flap in the sun, so to speak.”

Crowley took a deep breath and counted to ten. He knew, logically, that Aziraphale was only shouting at him because of the intense embarrassment of what he’d just been through. Picking a fight would be an ideal distraction, something else to focus on. And he knew that his job as a good husband was absolutely not to give him one, right now.

He somehow managed to keep his voice calm. “You know how dangerous it can be to mess about with kids’ memories. They’d seen you before I could do anything. And you were just standing there in full view of everyone and I was hidden by the water, so I had a chance to cover myself up at least! I couldn’t have helped you if we had both gotten arrested.”

Aziraphale made a displeased sound. “Fat lot of good you are, then,” he muttered, and turned to look out the window.

Crowley gripped the steering wheel tighter and continued to drive them home.

When they reached the bure, Aziraphale stomped off into the sitting area and shut the partition behind him with a bang.

Crowley gave him a few minutes and then tried again.

“Tea?” he asked, bringing a steaming cup of mint tea into the room.

Aziraphale rounded on him with eyes that were tinged with red. He looked completely incensed, and Crowley took a step back in spite of himself.

“Leave. Me. Alone.” the angel shouted. “Stop hovering! I don’t need your pity!”

Aziraphale stopped and the sudden silence was shocking to them both. Crowley felt a complicated wave of emotions flicker through him and finally settled on a brittle, cold smile.

“Have it your way, angel,” he snapped, and spun on his heel to go. Aziraphale made no move to stop him.

Crowley stomped out into the kitchen and threw himself into a chair. Frederick, who had spent nearly all of this portion of the trip sleeping blissfully in the heat, raised his head from his cage on the kitchen counter and looked warily at the demon.

WHAT DID YOU DO NOW, SNAKEBIRD? the snake shrieked.

“Nothing!” Crowley answered.

YES YOU DID, Frederick answered. HE NEVER YELLS LIKE THAT UNLESS ONE OF US HAS DONE SOMETHING.

“Shut up,” Crowley said weakly. He needed a distraction. “Want to go play in the sand? Let’s go down to the beach.”

He plucked Freddy out of his cage and took him down the deck stairs to where he could bury himself in the hot sand. The snake hissed happily, keeping just his head out in the open air, and immediately fell into a blissful sleep.

Crowley, however, found himself unable to follow suit. The events of the day kept swirling through his head. The angel was apparently determined to continue his hissy fit for the foreseeable future, and it was quite a big one. Who did the angel think he was, yelling at him and blaming him for this whole thing? It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t!

Aziraphale had all but called him useless. He wasn’t useless! He did, though, feel oddly guilty. The angel was certainly right that he’d had a hand in encouraging this, but there really had been nothing he could have done on the beach that morning.

They laid there as the sun began to set. Eventually Crowley brought them both back inside and he picked at some leftover mango and fish while drinking most of a bottle of wine by himself. There was no sign of the angel other than a vaguely glowering presence from the closed-off sitting room.

Finally, feeling frustrated and miserable, Crowley decided to take a nap.

He awoke a while later when he felt the angel come sit next to him. He laid still, his back to the angel, waiting to see what would happen.

The angel took a deep breath and laid a hand on Crowley’s shoulder.

“I know you’re awake, dearest,” he said. “Can I speak with you?”

His voice sounded soft. Penitent, Crowley thought. He rolled over onto his back and blinked up at the angel. “All right. What?”

The angel’s eyes were enormous in the dim light. “I- I’m so sorry, my dear. I’ve been wretched to you all day and none of this is really your fault. I don’t know why I blamed you.”

“Well,” Crowley said, neutrally, still feeling tender. “It’s your first time getting arrested for public nakedness, so I suppose you’re owed a bit of a pass.”

“I was just so embarrassed,” the angel moaned. “All those children! And everyone looked at me with such disapproval at the station. All those nice people who have been so welcoming all week!”

“I know.” Crowley reached out a hand and threaded their fingers together. He gave the angel’s hand an understanding squeeze.

“And instead of just dealing with that, I picked a fight with you!” Aziraphale looked like he was going to cry. “On our honeymoon! I’ve hardly spoken to you all day! Who does that on their honeymoon?”

Crowley huffed, his earlier pique completely forgotten. “Oh now, enough of that. All couples fight on vacation. Didn’t you know that?”

Aziraphale frowned. “That’s not true!”

“Of course it is! Spending an entire month, like we are, cooped up in small spaces together with no breaks and no other company? It’s almost inevitable that we were going to argue about something. And now we’ve got that out of the way, so that’s a relief. Clever of you, really.” Crowley pulled the angel down onto the mattress and into his arms. “It’s okay, angel. I really do understand.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“You do,” Crowley said, grinning. “In fact, I think I’m exactly what you deserve.”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure he wanted to examine the many layers of that statement too closely, right now.

They continued their murmured conversation for a while further, and then began to drift off to sleep still wrapped up in each other.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, voice sounding exhausted. “By the way. It’s the second, actually.”

“Second what?”

“You said it was my first time getting arrested for public nakedness. That’s not technically correct. It’s actually the second.”

That woke Crowley up. He pulled back so he could look the angel full on in the face. “WHAT?” he shouted. “You WHAT? When? How??”

The angel gave him a sleepy but mischievous grin. “Well, my dear, you don’t know everything that happened in that century you were asleep.” He yawned dramatically, stretching his arms overhead. “I’m quite tired after all of this excitement. Let’s call it a day, shall we?”

Crowley watched in stunned amazement as the little bastard rolled away and tucked the blankets in around himself. He gawked for a good twenty seconds before he came to his senses and jumped into action, pulling the covers right back off the angel and straddling his chest.

“Absolutely not! We are not going to just roll over and get some sleep after that little tidbit!” He reached down threateningly to the spot he knew the angel was the most ticklish. “Tell me the whole story right now, or else.” He gave a short, warning tickle that made the angel thrash.

“All right! All right!” Aziraphale batted his hands away. “Get off me and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Crowley climbed off but stayed in striking range. The angel sighed fondly and propped up the pillows so he could sit back on the headboard. “So,” he said demurely, “once upon a time a certain snake went to sleep, and a lonely angel joined a gentleman’s club in a town far away from here called London.”

“I know this part, angel,” Crowley complained.

“Shhh, this is your bedtime story.” The angel pulled him in to snuggle and started stroking his hair. “And one night, a few of the fellows from the club decided to pull a little prank on their newest member…”

Crowley laughed and let himself be lulled to sleep by the angel’s ridiculous story.

In the morning, he woke up to find Aziraphale watching him sleep.

“Morning, jailbird,” Crowley said with a soft smile.

Aziraphale hit him with a pillow, then kissed him soundly. “I love you,” he said. “And I’m sorry.”

“Enough apologies, angel,” Crowley said, tossing the offending pillow to the floor. “Let’s just stay in the cabin for today and get some sun and swim a little and not go out. Sound ok? I’ll have the staff bring us dinner and you don’t have to see anyone at all.”

Aziraphale nodded solemnly, still looking embarrassed. “We’ll laugh about this whole part of the trip someday, right?”

“Most likely.” Crowley said. It was clearly too early to laugh about it now. But oh, how he looked forward to making jailbait jokes at some point in the future. He filed that thought away.

“I’ll start looking into our next stop, too, if that’s all right?” Aziraphale said. “Not that we have to leave immediately. But we’re coming up on two weeks here, and perhaps it’s time for the next leg of our journey soon?”

Crowley thought about it. “I think that could be fine. As long as I get a few more swims and at least two dozen more gin and tonics first.”

Aziraphale smiled. “I can manage that, love,” he said, and went off to see about mixing the first set of drinks.

Notes:

I took a lot, but not all, of the description of their bure from several pictures from the Royal Davui Island Resort - here's a picture I was looking at as I described their bedroom and its view, if you're interested and like to get a look at the real life inspiration for these things:
Royal Davui bedroom

Chapter 7: Train Life

Summary:

The boys embark on a classic journey on the Orient Express.

Notes:

Good lord, this one took forever. Sorry for the long wait!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

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“In the mood for something different, love?” Aziraphale said as they left Fiji on a flight for Istanbul.

Crowley looked over from the first-class seat where he was currently fiddling with his phone. “Oh, you’re going to tell? I thought it was a huge secret.”

Aziraphale grinned. “I simply can’t hold it in anymore.”

Crowley looked at him expectantly. “Well? Spill it, angel, don’t just grin at me.”

“We,” the angel said dramatically, “are going to take the Orient Express for its full route from Istanbul to Paris.”

Crowley looked confused and tried to cover up. “So… that sounds fun!”

Aziraphale frowned. “You don’t seem excited.”

“I am! That’s – that’s, what, a train?”

Aziraphale gasped. “You don’t KNOW what the Orient Express is? How is that possible?”

Crowley shrugged nonchalantly to cover his intense dislike for being out of the loop. “Dunno. Heard of it. Knew it was either a car or at train.” He smiled brightly. “So, train rides are fun!”

Aziraphale tut-tutted and loosened his bow tie. “My dear,” he said, sounding rather pompous, “the Orient Express is not simply a train. That’s like saying the Taj Mahal is simply a building or the Sistine Chapel is merely a painted ceiling. The Orient Express is the most romantic, mysterious, luxurious train route in the entire world! It’s been celebrated in novels, movies, songs – really dearest, how could you never have heard of this?”

Crowley looked innocent. “I don’t take trains much!”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. It wasn’t a move he made often, and it looked odd on him, Crowley thought. “You knew Agatha Christie, didn’t you? It’s probably her most famous work – Murder on the Orient Express?”

Crowley straightened up! “Oh! I did know her!” He grinned. “You know, I was behind her whole mysterious disappearance in 1926.”

“You were not,” Aziraphale said. “You were sleeping.”

“Nah, I got up for a while in the twenties -- it seemed like a good time, lots to do. Prohibition in the US, bootlegging, cars, art deco – kind of my scene. So, I spent a few years out in society.”

The angel eyed him. “You did, did you?”

“I did! Anyways, I met her at a party and we became fairly close friends. She was in quite a state about her philanderer of a husband, so I said to her, why don’t we just go off and have some fun and let him wonder? Fake your death and go on a holiday?” Crowley insisted. “And off we went to Harrogate to the Old Swan Hotel and had partied our eyes off for over a week.” He sighed. “Good times.”

Aziraphale frowned suspiciously. Could this be true? He wanted to doubt it, but it had a certain ring of truth to it, and it’s not like they were in touch then – they were still not speaking regularly in the fallout from the holy water debacle. He had no clear idea what the demon had been up to for most of the early 20th century.

“Well, whatever the truth of that might be,” he finally said, “the Orient Express is not just any train. And since we have approximately twenty hours on this flight, it’s a perfect opportunity to get you acquainted with some of the relevant cultural references.” He held out his hand imperiously. “Give over your laptop, please, Crowley.”

The demon blinked, then dug the laptop out of his bag and passed it over to Aziraphale, who laboriously tapped at the keyboard for a few minutes. He continued to click and work at things for several minutes before handing it back to Crowley. He pointed to the screen, where several new shortcuts appeared.

“Here’s the novel,” he said, pointing to an e-reader version of Murder on the Orient Express. “And here are three movie and television versions. You’re going to watch at least one of them, all right? I suggest this one,” he said, pointing. “David Suchet is a genius. Absolute best of the best. And this one below it is a documentary Suchet did about the Orient Express. And this one here is a recent movie with that man you like so much who plays the pirate in that other series.”

“Johnny Depp,” Crowley sighed. “And I was planning to sleep, angel.”

“Sleep is for people who have heard of the Orient Express,” the angel said primly, but he softened the moment by leaning over to place a gentle kiss on the demon’s cheek. “I’ll watch the first episode with you. Let me get us a couple of fresh drinks.”

The demon sighed and gave up. He knew there was little point in trying to stop Aziraphale when he got in cultural docent mode. Plus, he should be able to watch a few hours of things to make the angel happy and then sleep for at least another fifteen hours before they landed.

They arrived in Istanbul in the late morning and checked into a hotel on the shores of the Bosphorus. They had two days to kill before the train was scheduled to depart. They’d both spent time there over the years, mostly on official assignments, but neither had been there since it became Istanbul in the 1930s, and they enjoyed strolling around town, admiring the new and revisiting old familiar buildings like the Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque, and enjoying Turkish delicacies that they hadn’t had in centuries.

They also did a bit of wardrobe adjustment. The Orient Express had quite formal dress expectations for dinners, with travelers who were not suitably attired being served in their cabins instead of the dining car and no jeans or trainers allowed, essentially, ever. Crowley was only too happy to visit a haberdashery, and they both ended up picking up a variety of black-tie wear to ensure they met the dress code.

Finally, though, the day came to check in for their train. They headed to the station in the late afternoon, where their bags and suitcases were whisked off by porters and they were shown to an elegant, private waiting room with approximately twenty other people. Everyone waited expectantly for the gilt-edged doors to be swung open at the end of the room, revealing the shiny black and gold side of one of the cars. Aziraphale felt his heart pound when he caught the first glimpse of it.

He felt Crowley staring at him and turned to look at him questioningly.

“You going to faint, there, angel?” Crowley asked with a grin. Aziraphale pouted at him a little and then went back to bouncing with excitement. “How is it you never did this before, if you’re so into it?”

“Oh, I don’t know, really,” Aziraphale said. “I just never got around to it! Always wanted to, though.”

Their conversation was cut short by the porter announcing embarkment. A cabin steward in blue and gold livery met them and escorted them to their suite – a newly refurbished grand suite that was larger than some hotel rooms they’d stayed in. The steward gave them a quick tour, poured them each a glass of champagne, took their dinner seating reservation for the second seating, and then left them to settle in.

One end of the berth was devoted to a double bed that was snugly placed between an inner wall set with intricate parquetry burnished to a high shine and large picture windows looking out at the passing scenery. From the end of the bed, he crossed into a seating area with a cozy-looking red silk settee, just big enough for two, and a small table by another window with two leather seats where one could write, have a private meal, or enjoy a glass of champagne. There was a gleaming glass-and-chrome bar service set into the wall behind it, cleverly constructed with small wrap-around ledges to keep the glassware from falling out with the movement of the train. At the far end of the compartment was an ensuite bathroom, with a marble shower and all the necessities.
It was, in a word, lovely, and part of Crowley would have been happy to never leave the cabin.

While Crowley looked around, Aziraphale set about getting Frederick, who he’d smuggled in inside his jacket, set up in his cage and carefully camouflaged with a minor miracle to look like a simple valise case. The snake greeted him sleepily and curled up in the space under the writing desk.

“So, this is a little more lavish than what our friend Poirot had in the movie, don’t you think?” Crowley said, turning around the enormous cabin.

“Oh yes, certainly! These are brand new, there was nothing like this when Ms. Christie rode the train.” Aziraphale sat down on the bed and bounced appreciatively. “This will do quite nicely for a honeymoon, I think, don’t you dearest?”

He smiled coquettishly at the demon, who didn’t need to be invited twice. He joined him on the bed and set about loosening the angel’s bow tie. “Let me help you get ready for dinner,” he purred. “You’re going to need to get all of this off, you realize.”

“Oh certainly,” the angel said, trying not to sound flustered. “Couldn’t go to dinner in our travelling clothes, could we?”

“Definitely not,” the demon said, easing the angel’s Victorian jacket off. “Plus, I don’t believe I’ve ever done this on a moving train before.”

“Really dear?” Aziraphale said, sounding surprised.

“No,” Crowley said, pulling back to look at the angel suspiciously. “Why? Have you?”

The angel blushed but knew exactly how to handle this moment. He reached up and pulled the demon in gently, kissing softly up his jaw and in front of his ear. “Now, now, love,” he said softly. “We’ll have none of that type of question on our honeymoon.”

Luckily for him, Crowley found it quite hard to concentrate shortly thereafter.

They dressed for dinner and headed out when the porter came to alert them that it was time for their seating. The angel, Crowley had to admit, looked like it was Christmas morning. He couldn’t stop gawking and running a hand over things. He seemed to have a deeply set need to touch nearly everything on the train. The paneling in the hallway. The light fixtures. Each piece of crystal in the dining car. The buttons on the bellboy’s shoulder. He got an odd look for that one.

“Angel,” Crowley whispered. “Don’t pet the staff. Try to be cool, please?”

Aziraphale, too high on excitement to be bothered, merely beamed at him and then proceeded to head to the bar and order himself a brandy, which was served to him a leaded crystal snifter. “Oh my,” he said, smoothing down the lapels on his navy-blue dinner jacket and straightening his tartan cumme*rbund. “This is just lovely, isn’t it?”

“It’s nice,” Crowley agreed. And it was. The bar car was gorgeous, resplendent in dark paneling and royal blue velvet seats. Outside the scenery whizzed by in the early evening’s darkening sky and the feeling of the train vibrating slightly beneath one was not, the demon realized, at all unpleasant. In fact, it was rather soothing. Made one want to order a fancy drink and curl up somewhere to people watch.

“You know, dear,” Aziraphale said, “reports are in that it’s starting to snow up ahead a few hours. Perhaps we’ll get stranded like they do in the book!” He wriggled happily.

Crowley grinned at him. “Oh, and perhaps there will be a murder in the middle of the night! And then we can solve it!”

If there was anything that showed that Aziraphale was off his usual form, it was the fact that he didn’t reprimand Crowley for this statement. Normal Aziraphale would have felt honor-bound to point out that it’s neither proper not kind to wish for one’s fellow passengers to get murdered. The Aziraphale who was in the midst of checking a major item off his six-thousand-year bucket list merely grinned back. “Oh, that would be something, wouldn’t it?” he breathed.

Crowley blinked in surprise as the angel headed off down the car to speak with someone.

They were lucky enough to be seated for their first dinner at a private table. As they sipped their wine, Aziraphale looked around the car at their fellow passengers – mostly couples celebrating major life events, weddings and anniversaries and birthdays. There were a few business-types travelling alone, and one set that looked to be a mother and daughter traveling together. Everyone was dressed exquisitely, and quiet conversation flowed around them.

Aziraphale took a deep sip of the lovely Bordeaux they’d been served and leaned towards Crowley in a conspiratorial manner. “Which one,” he said, “do you think would be the criminal?”

Crowley blinked. “Why does there need to be a criminal?”

Aziraphale waved a hand. “Oh, you know, if this were the book and we were the detectives. Who would it be?”

Crowley wasn’t sure this was a game he should encourage, but the sparkle of joy in the angel’s eyes made him decide to play along. He glanced around and settled in on one of the men who was traveling alone.

“Him, maybe?” he said, indicating with a nod.

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes and considered the man in question, stroking his chin in a most affected manner. “Why is that, dear?”

“Well,” Crowley stated, warming to the game, “he’s not dressed quite as well as the others, is he? And he’s got furtive eyes, keeps glancing around nervously. Quite suspicious looking, really.”

Aziraphale looked around a bit more. “I think he’s too obvious. I think perhaps it would be those two,” he said, subtly pointing to the mother and daughter combo. The mother appeared to be nearly sixty and was dressed in a modest and becoming black co*cktail dress, her hair gathered in a loose chignon and a simple string of rather large pearls at her neck. The daughter, in her early thirties, was wearing a long crepe dress in a pale pink with delicate beading around the neckline, and her auburn hair hung loose to her shoulders. They were talking animatedly and seemed to be enjoying each other’s company.

“They’re obviously jewel thieves in disguise,” the angel continued. “Who would suspect a mother and daughter? It’s the perfect cover.”

Crowley smiled and motioned to the waiter for a cup of Turkish coffee. “Well if there’s a crime, I’m sure you will be the first person they call.”

The next morning, Crowley was sleeping blissfully, lulled into pleasant dreams by the gentle clacking of the wheels against the track, when Aziraphale suddenly pounced on the bed and shook him awake.
“Crowley!” he said, breathless with excitement. “There’s been a crime!”

Crowley threw a hand over his eyes, not yet ready to face daylight. “So help me, angel, if you murdered someone just so you could have a murder to solve, even I won’t be able to –”

Aziraphale cut him off. “Of course not, don’t be silly, no one’s been murdered! Someone had a watch stolen. A rather expensive one, as it turns out.”

“Of course it would be, in this crowd,” Crowley muttered. “Bet there’s not a watch worth less than twenty grand in this whole place.”

He rubbed his eyes one last time and then took a better look at the angel and froze. The angel had made a few changes to his corporation while his husband slept.

“What in the name of blazes is that on your face, Aziraphale?” Crowley said slowly.

Aziraphale frowned. “It’s a mustachio, obviously.”

“I can see that. And a big one!” Crowley sat up to take a better look. The ends were curled up into little points. It looked like two small rodents had taken up residence on either side of the angel’s nose. “Why is it on your face?”

“It’s an homage. To Poirot.” Aziraphale pouted. “You don’t like it?”

Crowley frowned. “Well, it’s not that I don’t like it.” He did not like it. “But large mustaches like that aren’t really in fashion anymore. And… is your hair slicked back?”

Aziraphale colored slightly. “I just thought –”

“You’re going to try to investigate, aren’t you?”

“Well of course!”

Crowley rolled out of bed and headed to the ensuite to get dressed. This was one of the angel’s more ill-advised plans and he could tell he was going to have to keep the angel out of trouble. “Wait for me,” he called back over his shoulder. “I think you’re going to need me on this one.”

Aziraphale, rather missing the point, looked all together delighted. Not only was he going to investigate a crime, he was going to have a partner to help him! Like Poirot and Hastings. Holmes and Watson. He couldn’t wait.

The angel was quite disappointed to find that the Oriental Express management did not, in fact, want the help of a Poirot impersonator in solving their crime and actually had their own investigator on board, as well as the local authorities from their current stop. They didn’t laugh at him; they were much too well trained in excellent customer service for that. But they took one look at his mustaches and immediately declined his offer of help with excruciating politeness.

“I’m sorry, angel,” Crowley said, leaning over to rub a hand over Aziraphale’s as he sat slumped over the table in the bar car. He sat a sparkly champagne flute in front of his husband, and a smaller tumbler of green liquid. “Look, I got you two drinks. The tall one is called the Agatha Christie! It has all your favorites – kirsch, anise, champagne. And the small one is crème de menthe, which is --”

“—Poirot’s favorite drink, yes I know. Thank you dear.” The angel picked up the small glass and took a wan sip, disheartened. He found his mustaches rather got in the way of drinking, and with a quick snap they disappeared. Crowley breathed a sigh of relief at that.

Perhaps cosplaying wasn’t the best way to get taken seriously in a criminal investigation, Crowley thought to himself, but he knew better than to share that thought. Instead he leaned over and looked out the window. “Where are we?”

Aziraphale looked out. “Coming up on Vienna, I believe.”

Crowley, who knew a good conversational distraction when he heard one, jumped right on that. “Vienna! Weren’t you stationed there for a while?”

Aziraphale perked up a little at that. “Twice actually! First in the 1600s when Ferdinand I was in power, and then for the World Exposition in 1873. Oh, that was wonderful – did I ever tell you about that?”

Crowley surreptitiously refilled their emptying glasses and settled in happily, listening as Aziraphale forgot his disappointment as he relived one of his happier memories. He asked just enough questions to keep the angel reminiscing and then managed to turn the conversation to Freud, which led to another hour of lively conversation, and by the end of that the earlier disappointment had been swept under the rug.

Several drinks later, a slightly tipsy pair decided to return to the cabin for a little rest before dinner. They had just settled in – Crowley sprawled on the settee and Aziraphale flipping through a book at the reading table – when there was a strange puff of displaced air and the faintest scent of sulfur coming from the bathroom, followed by a loud clatter and a muffled swear word or two.

“Oh, what the ever-living f*ck –” Crowley growled, stalking towards the bathroom with Aziraphale close behind him.

“Dudes!” Rat said, standing there with one foot suspiciously dripping wet. “That was a tough one! Hard to land right on a moving train.”

Crowley looked between Rat and the toilet with distaste. “Did you land in the commode?”

Rat shrugged and said nothing.

“Also,” Aziraphale added, handing him a towel, “not to be impolite, but why exactly are you here?”

“Well I couldn’t reach you by phone or email,” Rat said, wiping himself off and heading out into the main cabin. “This train doesn’t have Wi-Fi or cell service, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a puzzled look and followed him.

Rat whistled and looked around. “Pretty swank, this! You two are having a good time, it looks like! Trip been good so far?”

He plopped down into one of the seats at the little writing table. The noise woke Frederick up from his perch underneath the table, and he hissed alarmingly at Rat, who reared back in surprise before taking a closer look. “You brought your snake?”

WHO IS THIS CLOWN? Frederick shrieked.

“He’s…” Crowley stopped unsure of what to say. “His name is Rat.”

“Your snake talks? Dude, that’s so cool!” he plopped the cage on top of the table and leaned in to look more closely at the snake. “Can you hear me, little dude?”

CAN I BITE HIM? PLEASE TELL ME I CAN BITE HIM.

Crowley, looking closely between Frederick and Rat, saw no indication that Rat could hear the snake, and he grinned ferociously before he could stop himself. He didn’t want to share that with his new ‘assistant’.

“Yes, he can talk, but only to me – it’s a serpent thing,” he said with evident self-satisfaction. “And he says hello.”

I DID NOT, Frederick shrieked.

“He’s a gnarly little dude,” Rat said, still admiring him.

LITTLE? YOU’RE LITTLE, YOU BIG DORK

Crowley laughed. “He said thank you.”

YOU AND I NEED TO HAVE A TALK ABOUT YOUR TRANSLATING ABILITIES, SNAKE BIRD, Frederick said in disgust, and then curled himself up inside his cardboard tube. EVERYONE LEAVE ME ALONE. ALSO, I’M HUNGRY.

Crowley sighed and snapped to materialize a mousicle in Frederick’s cage and then tucked him away up on top of the luggage racks where he could see out the window. He motioned for Aziraphale to have a seat on the settee and then sat down across from Rat.

“So,” he said. “Why are you here?”

“Well,” Rat said, “I finished all of the shows you left me, and I had some questions. Also, I brought the mail,” he said, digging in the inner pocket of his jacket and dumping a few dozen envelopes out on the table.

Crowley rolled his eyes and passed the piles of mail to the angel to sort through. They didn’t receive much of anything of importance at the Mayfair address anymore since nearly everything had been rerouted to the shop in the last year.

“You’re here because you ran out of television shows to watch?” Crowley growled.

“Oh, and also you got this, which looked kind of important,” he said, pulling out a cardboard envelope marked express. “Something legal. Had to sign for it.”

Crowley took a minute to wonder where exactly Rat was storing all these things under his clothes before taking the proffered envelope and examining it closely. Something about taxes. He set that one aside to burn later.

“Thanks, Rat,” he said. “But really, it could have waited.”

“What kind of assistant would I be if I didn’t bring you urgent documents when they arrive?” Rat insisted. “I’m just trying to do my job.”

“You aren’t my assistant!” Crowley snapped. “You’re just – a guy we know.”

“A guy you know who happens to be your assistant, dude,” Rat said with a grin. “Assistants bring you things.”

Crowley dropped his head in his hands and gave up.

“So,” Aziraphale interrupted from across the room. “What about those questions? What can we help you with?”

Rat turned, looking relieved. “Well first,” he said, “let’s talk Friends. What is a coffee bar and why do all these characters spend all their time in one? How would I find one? I want to meet a Gunther, he looks interesting. Is Phoebe a demon or an angel? She’s clearly not a human. Do all cats smell bad or just her cat? What is a guitar and how could I get ahold of one? And then –”

Aziraphale sighed and loosened his necktie. This was obviously going to take some time. He never thought he’d be grateful that Crowley had all but sat on top of him and made him watch the entire series last winter.

“—and so, you see, Ross thinks they are no longer in a binding commitment, and Rachel thinks their agreement to remain monogamous is still firmly in place, and therefore their social mores are in conflict, which leads to a lot of hurt feelings and they break up. Do you understand now?”

Rat blinked and thought about that for a few moments. “Humans are more complicated than I thought,” he finally admitted. “But it’s starting to make more sense.”

Aziraphale looked over to the bed, where Crowley had flopped face-down a half hour ago. He laid motionless and unmoving, but Aziraphale could tell he was still awake.

“So, what should I do now, since I’m caught up on all the research you left for me?”

Aziraphale looked again at the demon. “Darling,” he said patiently. “Do you have any instructions for Rat?”

Crowley sighed dramatically and sat up. “Have you left the apartment at all since we saw you last?”

“Not really,” the minor demon said. “Once or twice.”

Crowley waved a hand. “Start exploring food. Go have a meal at least once a day. Go to the park. Start trying to have conversations with people. Pick your favorite character from the shows and model your conversation a bit on them so you blend in better.”

Rat looked delighted. “I can talk to people?”

“Yes, you can. Do not get arrested.” Crowley gave him his sternest look. “We will not be cutting the trip short to come bail you out. If you end up in jail, you’re going to have to boot yourself back to Hell to get out of it and get yourself back up to earth before Dagon gets ahold of you, capice?”

“Got it, boss.”

Crowley visibly cringed at the moniker.

“My dear,” Aziraphale said, “perhaps you better think about getting back to London? It would be quite hard to explain how we ended up with a guest on a moving train, and the porter will be coming to fetch us soon for dinner.”

Rat looked around nervously. “It’s just super hard to manage these things from a moving platform.”

Aziraphale looked at Crowley as if he was asking permission. Crowley, aware he was missing something, shrugged that the angel should go ahead.

“I think we’re scheduled to make a stop at a station in a few hours,” he said kindly. “You could stay here in the cabin while we go to dinner and then take yourself back once the train stops.”

Crowley groaned quietly but he saw the point the angel was making. And really, how much trouble could he get into in the next three hours?

“That’s decent of you, dude,” Rat said, happily settling in. He eyed the liquor cabinet. “Mind if I try a few of those?”

The porter knocked shortly thereafter to inform them of their dinner seating, and the angel and demon quickly changed into evening wear and left, being careful to leave the do not disturb sign on the doorknob and a brief warding spell to doubly ensure no one would enter while they left.

Aziraphale took one last worried look inside as they closed the door and saw Rat settled happily at the table, a decanter and glass in front of him, seemingly hypnotized by the passing scenery. He took a deep breath and shut the door behind him.

They were seated at dinner with the mother and daughter couple, Mrs. Sarah Putnam and her daughter Emily, traveling from the United States. By sheer turn of luck, Mrs. Putnam turned out to be the woman who lost her watch. Aziraphale asked concerned questions, and she related that she had carefully laid it in her jewelry case at bedtime as she did every night, and then found it missing in the morning. Her daughter confirmed that no one had been in or out of their compartment in that time.

“That’s very odd,” the angel said. “It’s almost like it disappeared into thin air! I do hope you get it back, my dear.”

The soup course arrived, and Crowley took the chance to change the subject to their travels so far in Europe, and they passed the rest of the meal in pleasant conversation.

The angel and demon excused themselves relatively quickly at the end of the meal, hesitant to leave their unexpected companion alone for too long. They had just entered the far end of their sleeping car when they suddenly heard a blood-curling shriek emerge from the compartment just past theirs. An older woman emerged from her cabin and looked wildly around for a porter, and finding none, rushed up to the two of them.

“My dear lady, what seems to be the problem?” Aziraphale asked, putting on his best calming air.

“There – there – “ the woman tried to calm her quivering voice. “There was a snake! In my cabin! A big black snake! It hissed at me!”

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Oh f*ck,” he muttered under his breath, before turning around to run back to their own cabin.

Aziraphale turned back to the woman and patted her arm. “Pardon him, he has a dreadful fear of snakes. Would you like me to look? Where did you see it?”

“Oh, would you, please?” She stood back and motioned for him to enter. “In the bedroom area.”

“Of course, wait here.” She nodded her agreement, and Aziraphale went in slowly and quietly, shutting the door behind him. “Frederick?” he called softly. “Are you in here?”

He circled around the cabin, stretching out his senses. He didn’t see anything at first, but he soon got a sense of something in the sleeping area – where he pounced and discovered a certain black and red snake huddled underneath the thick bedspread.

“Frederick!” he admonished. “What on earth are you thinking? You’ll get us all kicked off this train.”

Frederick hissed at him but didn’t waste words on someone he knew couldn’t understand him.

Aziraphale did some quick thinking – he knew the porters would be there soon and he needed a cover for what had happened. He picked up Frederick and tucked him in an inner pocket, then quickly pulled grace from above and created a small, elaborate jointed wooden snake, the type of expensive, handmade toy that a well-to-do child might play with, and placed it along the edge of the wall near the back of the bed. He had just enough to time to make it out to the sitting room portion of the car before two porters joined him.

“Ah, thank you sir for your assistance,” the porters said, “but we will attend to the matter. Please return to your cabin and allow us to conduct a search.”

Aziraphale made short work of getting out of there, speaking briefly and considerately to the cabin’s occupant who was now being comforted in the hallway by another passenger, and then beat a hasty retreat back to his cabin with a calming hand laid quietly on the bundle in his jacket pocket. Frederick, bless him, held still and stayed quiet.

When he burst into their own cabin, he was met by an angry-looking spouse and highly frightened minor demon who were in the midst of a rather severe dressing-down.

Aziraphale locked the door behind him and everyone looked at him expectantly.

“Got him,” he said, pulling Frederick out of his pocket.

Crowley sighed in relief and opened the door of the cage. “You have some explaining to do, young man,” he growled.

I JUST WANTED TO GET AWAY FROM THIS GUY, Frederick shrieked, pointing his head at Rat. HE’S VERY ANNOYING. AND ANYWAY, IT’S HIS FAULT, HE LET ME OUT.

“You let him out?” Crowley said to Rat.

Rat took a small step back. “Well, uh, actually – yes. Yes, I did. Wanted to pick him up.”

TOLD YOU, Frederick shrieked smugly. HE’S NOT VERY BRIGHT.

“You’re still in trouble, Freddy,” Crowley said. “And you –” he pointed at Rat “are a bloody idiot. Who lets a snake out on a moving train?”

“I didn’t know he was going to go anywhere!” Rat said. “I had no idea they could move that fast!”

Aziraphale stepped into the fray, gesturing to both to stop. “Not that this isn’t fascinating,” he said, “but there’s every chance that the porters are going to be here in a moment to search this cabin and we have a few things to take care of before they arrive.”

Crowley and Rat both blinked at him.

“For one, we have an illegal snake aboard. I attempted to create an alternative explanation for the sighting by planting a children’s toy that could have been left behind by a prior occupant, but if they don’t buy it, they’re going to continue to search the car and we should assume they will be here shortly. So, we need to get this miscreant asleep in his cage and disguised as something else, pronto, before we get ejected from the Orient Express in the middle of the Bavarian forest.”

Crowley nodded. “You’re right, you’re right.” He set about getting Frederick situated, and with a quiet word and gesture settled him down to sleep, then continued to lay a brief illusion over the case to make it look like a small, square ottoman, which he tucked under the table.

Aziraphale nodded in satisfaction, and then turned to Rat. “And you, unfortunately, are the second problem. All fault or blame aside, there’s simply no way to explain your presence here in our cabin, and if you’re discovered the resulting brouhaha will be an immense headache. And furthermore, they might just decide that you are the jewel thief from yesterday. We can’t have that.”

Rat looked interested. “Jewel thief?”

“Someone stole an expensive diamond watch,” Crowley explained. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh!” Rat said. “I can help with that.”

“What?” Crowley asked, alarmed. “No. Don’t help. Really.”

“No, seriously dude, it’s my one power.” Rat straightened himself up and took a deep breath. “I can find things. It’s why the magician took me. Did you think he just wanted a minor undersecretary demon because I was efficient at paperwork?”

“Please, there’s no need,” Aziraphale said.

“Hang on just a moment,” Rat said, closing his eyes. He emitted a faint hum, then snapped his fingers, and a glittering diamond watch appeared on the table in front of them. “There!”

“Voila!” Rat said, then he paused to give the demon a long and speculative look that the angel simply couldn’t understand. “You’ll never believe where it w ---"

“Oh, for f*ck’s sake,” Crowley cut in loudly. “Now we have an illegal snake, an unwelcome visitor, and the missing diamond watch all in our cabin. We’re going to be arrested.”

“Again,” Aziraphale said. “Arrested again.”

They heard footsteps in the hall, and a knock at the door.

“Rat,” the angel said urgently. “Go. You have to go now.”

“Okay, dudes, no problem!” Rat said. “At least my destination isn’t moving this time.” He closed his eyes and concentrated so hard he looked like he might explode, and then suddenly he was gone.

Aziraphale met Crowley’s eyes, and then reached out and pocketed the watch inside his waistcoat pocket, before going to open the door to the porters.

“How can we help you, kind sirs?” he said, the picture of calmness and peace.

“Crowley, I think we should repair to the bar and let the gentleman do their work,” Aziraphale said. He gave Crowley the look, the one that meant ‘come with me and don’t argue,’ and for once Crowley seemed to pick up on it and cooperated.

They settled into the bar area with a strong scotch on the rocks each and stared wordlessly out the window for a few moments.

“What do I do with it?” Aziraphale finally whispered, sotto voce.

“With what?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale fixed him with a sharp look. “The price of tea? The state of politics in Britain? What do you think I’m talking about? The contents of my pocket, of course.”

“Ah,” Crowley said intelligently. “That.”

“Yes, that. We have to think of something, and fast.”

“Sorry, I was worrying about Freddy,” the demon said.

Aziraphale thawed a little. “They’re not going to find him. I heard the porters talking as we left – they are fairly certain the woman saw the toy I left behind and mistook it for a real snake; they’re just checking the other cabins on the sleeping cars because she made such a fuss.”

“That was good thinking, angel.” Crowley took a long swallow of his drink. “So, we just need to return it to its owner, say we found it.”

The angel frowned. “And you don’t think that would look suspicious? I’m sorry but I’ve spent as much time under arrest on this trip as I’m willing to.”

“We could sneak it back into her luggage...”

“They would’ve searched that pretty thoroughly, I think.”

“We could leave it somewhere where it would be found,” the demon mused, looking around the mostly empty car. “Like under the bed, or in the laundry area, or down the back of one of the couches in here.”

“Somewhere she might have dropped it!” Aziraphale breathed. “That’s a good idea.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Crowley said. “Hand it over, and you go talk to the bartender to distract him. I’ll find a good place to plant it.”

Aziraphale struck up a rousing conversation with the bartender on the merits of various types of gin, deliberately orienting himself so that the man had to turn his back to the area where Crowley was prowling. From the corner of his eye, he watched the demon stop and speak to the bar’s only other two occupants, making what appeared to be polite conversation. Then he wandered around examining the floral arrangements on various side tables before making his way back up to the front.

“Ready, love?” he asked breezily as he slipped an arm around Aziraphale. The angel smiled gratefully, offered his thanks to the bartender, and followed Crowley back to the cabin, where they discovered Freddy was still asleep and undetected.

“Where did you put it?” Aziraphale asked, as he unbuttoned his jacket and tucked it away in the closet.

“I left it tangled up with the crystal chess pieces near that table in the back,” Crowley said, flopping down on the settee. “Someone will use them soon, and they’ll find it. I broke the clasp, so it’ll look like it just fell off.”

Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief and sat down next to him. “What a day! I’m beginning to think this vacation might be cursed.”

Crowley frowned. “Don’t say that, angel. It’s our honeymoon!”

“Aren’t honeymoons supposed to include a little bit less peril than this? You angered a gnome, I got arrested, and now we’re covering up a crime?”

Crowley ran a hand up and down Aziraphale’s back. “Maybe normal people’s honeymoons don’t involve any peril. But I’d say this is about par for the course for us, wouldn’t you? I mean, we’re hardly your average couple.”

Aziraphale cracked a small grin. “No, that we aren’t.”

“If everything went swimmingly, with no wrinkles at all, you’d be bored,” Crowley added. “Plus, if you think about it, you really did want there to be a crime, didn’t you? So really, it’s a good thing, right?”

Aziraphale looked wary. “What do you mean by that?”

Crowley widened his eyes. “What? Nothing!”

Aziraphale narrowed his gaze. “Crowley? What was your involvement in this whole affair?”

The demon got up to fetch a drink. “I have no idea what you could be referring to,” he said, finding and opening a bottle of champagne with a flourish. He poured two glasses and handed one to the angel.

Aziraphale’s eyes were becoming a frighteningly intense shade of blue. “Where did Rat find the watch, Crowley?”

Crowley sighed and sat down. “In my suitcase.”

“You stole the woman’s watch?” Aziraphale shouted.

“Angel!” Crowley said. “Keep it down! No, I didn’t steal it! I – I borrowed it. I was going to put it back later.”

Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose. “You borrowed it.”

“I did!” Crowley said, beseechingly. “So that you could have a crime to solve. You wanted a crime.”

“I didn’t want you to commit a crime, dearest.” He put his glass down and crossed his arms over his chest.

Crowley stopped and took a deep breath, then slid over a little closer to the angel. “Oh now, angel,” he purred. “Don’t be cross. I did it for you.”

The angel huffed.

“I just wanted you to have everything your heart desired out of this trip that you’ve been dreaming about your whole life.” He leaned in and laid a hand on Aziraphale’s knee. “And you’d been dreaming about playing detective, so I gave you something to detect.”

“You are a fool,” the angel said hotly.

“A fool for love,” Crowley said, waggling his eyebrows.

Aziraphale tried not to laugh but he just couldn’t help it. “Ridiculous,” he said, begrudgingly affectionate. “You are irredeemably ridiculous; do you know that?”

Crowley took his chance and leaned in to kiss the back of the angel’s shoulder through the fine, soft fabric of his shirt. “I do,” he agreed. “I absolutely am. Completely incorrigible.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “All right, then,” he said, “since the authorities aren’t going to be able to exact any vengeance on the criminal in this case, I guess it comes down to me.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow and looked at him inquisitively. “Oh?”

Aziraphale stood up. “Yes of course, my dear. We’ll begin with a thorough frisking, to make sure you don’t have any other weapons secreted away on your person. And then perhaps a strip search.”

Crowley grinned.

“And don’t think I can’t find a set of cuffs if needed, demon,” Aziraphale said with mock severity.

“I like where this is going!” Crowley said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Aziraphale said, with a glint of humor in his eyes. “Now stand up and put your hands against the wall.”

They awoke the next morning as the train was crossing the border into France, and had just enough time for a lovely breakfast in the dining car, where they were seated with two other passengers, who shared the news that late the previous night, a couple had discovered the missing watch while they were setting up a chess game in the bar car. The bartender had been serving them at the time and could verify their version of events. It appeared that the theft had really been no theft at all, but merely the effect of a faulty clasp.

“Oh, that’s lovely to hear,” Aziraphale said, helping himself to another croissant. “It’s so desperately sad to lose an heirloom like that!”

Crowley smiled into his orange juice and said nothing, still playing over the events of the previous night in his head.

The porters arrived shortly thereafter to help prepare their luggage and whisked away everything except what they wanted to carry with them. Crowley stood at the window beside the bed, looking out at the outskirts of Paris rolling by.

“I’ll tell you one thing, angel,” he said, as Aziraphale came up beside him. “You were right that this is no ordinary train. I could live on here, I think, at least for a decade or two.”

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him from behind and laid a chin on his shoulder. “Mais oui,” he said. “C’est la perfection. Tout comme toi.”

“One croissant and now you’re French?” Crowley murmured.

“I could be French,” Aziraphale said. “If I weren’t English.”

“You are a Londoner through and through, angel,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale didn’t bother to argue. When the demon was right, he was right.

The train blew its whistle and began to slow down as they approached the Paris station.

“It’s our stop, love,” Aziraphale said softly, holding out his hand. “Shall we?”

The demon heaved a sigh and took one last look around the cabin, truly sad to be leaving, then took the angel’s hand and hoisted Frederick’s carrying case, now cleverly disguised as a doctor’s bag, and followed his love out into the sun.

Notes:

A few notes:
1. I'm aware that the Orient Express doesn't run that far anymore. However, my story is set several years into the future and I'm just going to plant my authorial-license stake in the ground here and say that by 2023 they've restored the full original route, with its stops in Istanbul – Bucharest - Budapest – Vienna – Munich – Strasburg - Paris – Calais - London.
2. The cabin is based rather meticulously on the new luxury suites on the Simplon Venice-London Orient Express, which you can get a look at here if you're interested: https://www.belmond.com/ideas/articles/into-the-atelier-of-the-grand-suites
And here's the bar car: https://www.belmond.com/trains/europe/venice-simplon-orient-express/
3. They have only one more stop and then we are back to life in London! I hope you're enjoying the trip!

Chapter 8: Epilogue: Back to the Beginning

Summary:

Aziraphale and Crowley have a little trouble communicating their true feelings. But croissants always help.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Paris! Here we are, back where it all began,” Crowley said as they cleared the train station and emerged into the cool, early afternoon. “What do you say we stay for a night or two before we head off on the last leg of our journey?”

A light snow was falling and the sky was that particular shade of gray unique to early December, and Aziraphale took a moment to miracle them both a warm scarf, and then to tuck Crowley’s securely into his collar.

“That sounds perfect, my dear,” he said with a smile. “Off to the Marais again? Same place?”

Crowley put down his bags and stretched, taking in the bustle around them. “Nah,” he said, “Let’s go bigger this time.” He pulled out his phone and poked at it for a few minutes. “I believe a nice suite has just opened up at the Ritz Paris.”

Aziraphale’s mouth rounded into a perfect ‘o’ of surprise and delight. He smiled and stepped forward to signal for a taxi, and looked even more pleased when one agreeably appeared.

“Pouvez vous nous conduire au Ritz, je vous prie?” he said in perfect French, then ushered Crowley into the back seat before him.

“So let’s see,” Aziraphale said, hours later. “We’ve done my two surprise honeymoon destinations. We’ve done your two. That leaves us with one more stop – Kenya, was it? The one we were going to plan together.”

“I think that’s right.” Crowley replied lazily from his perch on the other end of the terrace, where he was sipping champagne and staring out over the city. He’d bubbled a nice shell of warmth around them, keeping the snow off and heating the large terrace to the temperature of a tropical greenhouse. “I love Paris,” he said, changing the subject. “Why didn’t we settle here, do you think?”

“We could, if you like,” the angel said. “Get a place here. A pied-a-terre, if you will. We could spend part of the year here, part in London.”

Crowley looked shocked. “You’d leave London? I never thought I’d hear you say that.”

Aziraphale shrugged. “Not permanently. But for you? I could manage six months away, I believe. And, well, they do have the best pastries in the world here, and far better breakfasts.”

Crowley tucked that thought away to mull over. “Anyways, yes, Kenya is next. But if you don’t mind – let’s spend a few days here, just relaxing, before we start setting that up. I think we both need a little bit of a rest.”

“A rest sounds lovely, dearest,” Aziraphale said. “It has been quite a trip so far, hasn’t it? I’m not even sure how long we’ve been gone. We’ve been wandering without any real timeline, staying in one place until we felt like leaving.” He sighed in contentment. “So civilized…”

Crowley did a quick set of calculations in his head. “I think it’s been about eight weeks? Maybe nine. We left towards the end of September. It’s the beginning of December now.”

“Well then,” Aziraphale said, “we deserve a break. And I think that break involves a bubble bath in the near future.”

He turned and walked back into their suite, pausing when he reached the bedroom to turn and look back at Crowley. “You do realize that was an invitation, don’t you?”

Crowley gulped down the rest of his champagne and headed in.

Crowley laid in bed that night unusually awake, staring out over the rooftops of Paris. He was feeling slightly unsettled and couldn’t determine why, but one thing he did know – the more he thought about the next leg of the trip, the worse the sensation got. It finally hit him full force – he, the demon who prided himself on his constant sense of adventure, on never getting completely tied down to a place like his more staid angel, he missed home.

Crowley smacked himself in the forehead, just out of spite. Stupid brain. Stupid emotions. He used to be so clear-headed, before… before… before he fell hopelessly and soppily in love with this ridiculously irresistible creature lying next to him in the bed. He’d left London behind for decades in the past, without the slightest twinge. Now here he was, thoroughly domesticated. Tamed.

The object of his domestication chose that moment to roll over fussily in his sleep, patting down his pillows until they were just so, stealing nearly all of the eiderdown covers for himself, and then threw an arm casually and lovingly across Crowley’s shoulders before settling back into sleep with a soft smile on his lips.

Crowley’s heart, darkened around the edges as it might be, all but seized up with an agonizing surge of utter adoration.

Tamed, he thought again. And happy about it.

He got up after a while to check on Frederick, for want of anything better to do. The snake appeared to be awake, so he pulled him out of his case and wandered out onto the terrace with the snake draped around his shoulders.

“This is Paris, Freddie,” he said, holding him up and showing him the buildings before him. “City of Lights. Just the place every young serpent in the world dreams of being. All the latest snake fashions, laid out at your fingertips.”

I’M A SNAKE! Frederick shrieked. I DON’T CARE ABOUT SOME CITY OF LIGHTS! I LIKE IT DARK. DARK WITH GOOD HIDING PLACES. DARK AND WARM. WHY ARE WE HERE?

“We’re here to rest,” Crowley said. “And then we have one more stop to make before home. And then home.”

Frederick looked unimpressed. WHERE ARE THE BOOKSHOPS? DOES THIS TOWN HAVE BOOKSHOPS?

Crowley laughed. “Of course they do. Bookshops everywhere! There’s a great one right over there by Notre Dame that you’d love. It’s not as nice as ours, of course, but then again, nothing really is.”

Frederick flicked his tongue out in a way that looked borderline rude, and said nothing.

Crowley sighed. “Don’t tell the angel, but I’d really love to just head straight home. I miss it.”

Frederick, he discovered, had fallen asleep.

Aziraphale examined his face in the mirror the next morning as he was brushing his teeth. He preferred to do his morning ablutions the human way, as much as possible. Something about getting up and devoting a little time and attention to one’s corporation had quite the grounding effect, he thought. He finished his teeth and then patted his face with the Ritz’s signature peach-colored linens, then turned the gold taps on the faucet off. His face, as always, looked bright and clear, his eyes sparkling blue. A little rest had been excellent for both of them.

He tried to picture the two of them on the final leg of their journey, on the Kenyan safari they’d both agreed would be interesting. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t seem to picture it. He was, he had to admit, beginning to miss the bookshop rather desperately. He loved travel, he did, but he was a homebody at heart, never as much of one for endless adventure as Crowley was. He loved his routines, starting the day with his special tea in his special cup, laying a hand on a treasured book, opening the blinds to let the morning light in, and ruminating on the best way to discourage customers from purchasing anything that day. It felt like a long, long time since he’d done any of those things.

The angel met his own eyes in the mirror and gave himself a little shake. He didn’t want to disappoint Crowley, not with just one destination left. He would summon up the enthusiasm for one last trip, and then home would be waiting for them.

He gave himself an encouraging smile, and then walked out.

Crowley, he found, had abandoned him, leaving him a note that he was out on a quest to find some kind of fashion magazine he thought he needed; this would undoubtedly, the angel thought, lead to some kind of ridiculously expensive shopping trip in which he would come home with tightly cut suits that were beautiful but almost indistinguishable from his other suits, and which Aziraphale would be expected to admire thoroughly. He was happy to do so – Crowley always looked wonderful in his clothes, so admiring him was really no hardship – but he couldn’t tell the difference between the lapels on this season’s jacket compared to last year’s or the subtle differences in weave that made a fabric slightly more new and edgy. He’d stopped following such things centuries ago, and had no intention of picking it back up.

The prospect of an hour or two by himself was a welcome one, though, especially in such lovely surroundings. Aziraphale poured himself a cup of tea, then went over to the couch and sat down to have a little visit with Frederick, who coiled up in his lap accommodatingly when he pulled him out of his travel case.

“You should really be unconscious, you know,” he said to the snake with great affection. “After that trick you pulled on the train, we were supposed to make you sleep through the whole rest of the trip. Lucky for you, we missed you after a day or two.”

Frederick tried to look suitably grateful, which was a look which they both had to admit didn’t suit him at all. It was as if his facial muscles just couldn’t form that kind of expression; instead of looking pleased and thankful, he just looked vaguely constipated. He gave up trying and they both felt relieved.

ARE WE HOME YET? Frederick shrieked, knowing the angel couldn’t really hear him. ARE WE EVER GOING HOME?

“We’ll be going home soon, by the way.” Aziraphale said, unaware that their minds were running in the same direction. “I bet you’d like to see London again, wouldn’t you? Don’t tell Crowley, but I would really love to head straight back from here.”

Frederick hissed. These two were idiots, he thought for the hundredth time, although not without a dollop of affection. He stretched and found a nice spot on the angel’s left shoulder for a nap.

The lovely thing about Paris was that they had both been there often, and therefore felt no real desire to run around doing tourist-like things. Instead, they felt free to languish in the hotel, wandering out for walks along the river or through their favorite neighborhoods, reading books at sidewalk cafes, and sampling various bakeries. It was incredibly relaxing.

The lovely thing about staying at the Ritz was that getting a reservation at some of Paris’s most exclusive restaurants was truly no problem at all. They spent several days doing as little as possible – lounging on the terrace, alternating elaborate French afternoon teas (featuring madeleines) at one of the hotel’s salons with English-style teas (featuring finger sandwiches) at the other salon, going out when they pleased, and then coming home to gorgeous meals in the hotel’s Michelin-starred restaurant. Over the course of the week, the chef and servers came to know them, and especially seemed to recognize a true epicure in Aziraphale. By the time several days had passed, they began to receive little special bites sent out for them by one of the chefs. It was lovely.

They were just finishing one such dinner with a lovely cocoa meringue with raspberry vinegar granita and sipping snifters of Armagnac when the subject they’d both been avoiding came up.

“I suppose we should think about moving on,” Aziraphale said nonchalantly.

Crowley leaned back in his chair, his limbs loose with the effects of warmth and alcohol and fine dining. He watched Aziraphale closely while dissembling just the tiniest bit. “Back to the room, then?” he said, taking care to appear casual as he deliberately misunderstood. “That’s an excellent idea. Let me just settle the bill.”

Aziraphale swirled his glass and examined the contents. He decided to take the easier course, momentarily, of pretending that was exactly what he’d meant, and he followed his love as they settled their bill and wandered back up to their suite.

Crowley, as was his habit, began stripping down the moment they entered the suite – dropping his jacket on the back of an exquisite Louis XIV chair, loosening his tie and chucking it onto a marble table, kicking his shoes off randomly and letting them fall wherever they landed. Aziraphale, clucking quietly but by now resigned to his role, followed behind him, picking up bits and pieces of wardrobe, even collecting a stray cufflink that was carelessly dropped as the demon began rolling up his sleeves before dropping face first onto the bed.

“I don’t know how you can eat full meals, so regularly,” Crowley moaned. “I’m dying.”

Aziraphale neatly deposited all the demon’s accumulated discards on a chair in the corner and then sat quietly next to his love, running a hand up his back. “It takes some getting used to,” he said, “just like sleeping did for me. You’ll get the hang of it.”

“I don’t intend to,” Crowley said. “When we get back to London, I’m never going to eat again. This is enough food to last me for a lifetime.”

London. The word hung between them as if a bell had been struck, quivering in the dim silence of the room. It was as if they had both been avoiding the word, so taut did it seem once it was uttered.

Aziraphale collapsed down onto the bed in defeat and pulled Crowley up close to him.

“My dear,” he said, nervously. “I need to tell you something I’ve been keeping from you, and I hope you won’t be too upset with me –”

Crowley rolled back a little and took a good look at the angel. “All right,” he said, warily. “Shoot. What’s up?”

“It’s just – it’s just that –” Aziraphale stopped and tried to take a steadying breath. “I can’t tell you how lovely it sounds and I’m sure you’ve put a lot of work and thought into it, but the honest truth is – I – well I just –”

Crowley blinked. “You don’t want to go to Kenya.”

Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m so sorry, I don’t. I’m not sure why, I think I’m just tired of traveling all of a sudden and I’m feeling the strangest sensation of homesickness, which I shouldn’t be because you are here and Freddy is here and that’s home as much as anything, but all the same – I just really really – “

“—miss London.” Crowley said, and when the angel opened his eyes to look at his love’s face he was surprised to find him smiling. “Thank SATAN. I am so f*cking glad to hear you say that, angel. I’ve been trying to work up the right way to tell you the same thing for the last week.”

Aziraphale bit out a nervous laugh. “You – you aren’t upset?”

Crowley leaned in and kissed the angel, right between the eyes. “No, I am not. I don’t want to go either. Believe it or not, I’m quite homesick too. And I’ve been trying to work up the enthusiasm to set up the last bit of the trip and getting absolutely nowhere with it.”

Tension suddenly relieved, Aziraphale flopped onto his back and put pulled his crossed arms up over his eyes in relief. “Oh thank goodness.” He pulled Crowley closer. “Come here, you. I’m so very glad to hear that.”

“Freddy!” Crowley shouted. “Pack your bags, we’re heading home.”

In his cage, Freddy raised his head sleepily and looked at the two ridiculous creatures on the bed. God forbid, they had actually talked to each other about the things that were troubling them? Perhaps miracles really did exist. As for himself, he wasn’t homesick – as long as his supply of mice didn’t dry up and the angel and his demon friend were nearby, he was fine. But it would, he thought, be nice to see the bookshop again. He had a few hidey holes he’d mentally bookmarked that he thought it was high time he got around to exploring.

They sat together the next morning on the couches on their terrace, drinking warm cups of deep, dark coffee and picking at the breakfast croissants and fruit that the staff had delivered to their room at a respectable hour. The sounds of the traffic and the city beginning its day flickered in and out of their consciousness.

“My only regret is that I didn’t get to make you go camping,” Crowley said. “We were going to do that, on the last leg of the trip. Get you into a tent and prove that it wouldn’t be so terrible.”

Aziraphale shuddered. “Well I can’t say I’m sorry to have missed that experience. I spent enough years living in a tent in Mesopotamia, thank you very much.”

Crowley gave him an affectionately exasperated look. “Angel. It’s hardly the same thing. There are four poster beds and armoires in these kind of tents. And gramophones. And four star chefs. Oh, and also a complete lack of goats.”

Aziraphale gave a little sniff. “As there should be,” he said primly. “I’ll consider it for a future getaway, I suppose, if that’s the case.”

Crowley stretched over and took Aziraphale’s hand. The angel squeezed back.

“This trip has been exquisite, you know, dear,” Aziraphale said. “So many high points to look back on I don’t even know where to start.”

Crowley smiled one of his rare, completely unguarded smiles. “It has. Crimes, detective work, racing boats, unseasonable snow storms, that time the jellyfish got into your –"

“—now hush,” Aziraphale sighed fondly. “There were lots of lovely things, too.”

“I didn’t say all of those weren’t lovely, angel. I’m going to be thinking about you with that detective mustache for a long, long time.”

He got a half-hearted thwap on the arm for his efforts, followed by Aziraphale leaning his head against him in the same spot, while they sipped their coffee.

“I booked us a pair of seats on the train back to London tomorrow morning,” Crowley said. “That okay with you?”

Aziraphale smiled. “That sounds just lovely, dear.”

The angel thought about canals full of green water and gondolas, about snowy, smoke-scented woods in Finland. He thought over warm white sand beneath his toes and the delicious coolness of the dip pool in Fiji, and the sound and feel of the train wheels below them as they slept in their little bit of the Orient Express. All of it with his husband – his new husband – by his side, delighting in his delight, sharing in his pitfalls, rescuing him from prison, being rescued in turn from angry guardian spirits, solving mysteries, gaining a personal assistant demon, losing and finding a snake. So many new memories to sort through and review over endless teas and late nights in the coming years. It really had been a wonderful journey. But shining in the back of his mind, he found, was an even better image – the image of their quiet home in Soho, where an old corner shop was waiting for them with her lights golden and glowing, with the books warm and dusty and just waiting to have a loving hand run over them, where he had the pleasure of waking up next to his demon every morning and the intimacy of seeing him putter around the kitchen half awake, where their everyday lives stretched ahead of them for what he hoped would be centuries to come.

Travel was lovely, Aziraphale thought, but in the end, it was all about coming home.

Notes:

I know some of you were hoping for a dramatic conclusion to the honeymoon, but I realized over the last week that really, the boys are really just aching to get back home. And this story, as promised from the beginning, was just about fluff and sappiness and not about huge adventure like the last major storyline was! I hope you've enjoyed their honeymoon and look forward to seeing them back home soon. Thank you as always for reading and commenting! I so appreciate all of you!

All the Kingdoms of the World - megzseattle - Good Omens (2024)

Chapter 1: Dress Rehearsal

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Chapter 2: Consequences

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Chapter 3: Venice, Part One

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Chapter 4: Venice, Part Two

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Chapter 5: Finland

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Chapter 6: Fiji

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Chapter 7: Train Life

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Chapter 8: Epilogue: Back to the Beginning

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