fandomweekly | [#032] Shelter You (Good Omens)

Theme Prompt: #032 - Storms
Title: Shelter You
Fandom: Good Omens
Rating/Warnings: PG-13. Couple instances of swearing (one f-word), kissing (nothing graphic.)
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 984 words
Summary: Crowley tries to prove a point in rather dramatic fashion

Aziraphale stepped out of his bookshop, then looked up at the deep grey Impressionist painting of a sky and frowned. Crowley suppressed a smile. He remembered seeing that frown all the way back on the wall of Eden as the first rains billowed across the desert towards them.

“Really, dear boy? Such inclement weather. We could just as well stay in the bookshop, or find a cosy little cafe. I hear that silly place you used to meet Shadwell has gone surprisingly up-market. It’s hardly the day to drive to the coast.”

Crowley leaned back against the Bentley, tapping his fingertips lightly on the picnic basket he’d packed full of all their favourite snacks. Well, Aziraphale’s favourite snacks.

“Six thousand years, and how often have I asked you for something?”

Aziraphale drew a breath, no doubt about to mention all the times Crowley had persuaded the angel to tempt humans on his behalf as part of their Arrangement. Then he seemed to take a detour through all the fraught pleas and yesses and nos from each of them, each flitting across his expressive face like shadows. Finally he caught on to Crowley’s teasing tone and laughed with relief.

“Very well, you old serpent.”

He patted Crowley’s arm companionably, and the demon tried to ignore the fact that his entire limb now felt as though it were on fire, in a most pleasing way.

“If the coast is what pleases you, drive on.”

Crowley deposited the picnic basket in the back seat and swung into the driver’s side, stroking his hands appreciatively over the wheel. Dear old girl. He was so glad she’d been restored after the apocalypse-not-now. He glanced quickly at Aziraphale, trying to figure out if his plan would be better with the surprise factor, or if a little forewarning was in order. The latter, he decided. He wanted to make a point, not shock Aziraphale half out of his current corporation.

“So, Angel. What I had in mind. You might not love it. Actually you might sorta wish we’d gone our own way after the world didn’t end.”

Aziraphale gave him what Crowley could only call a "what the fuck" look.

“Now dear boy I know we’ve had our differences, but persuading me to go out in the impending storm, just to make me … uncomfortable? You are a strange one. Perhaps I ought to have kept that flaming sword after all.”

Crowley nearly laughed. It had become so easy to joke about heaven, hell, and the world not-ending. So easy, and so hard. Every throwaway comment brittle, and always followed by a look of “Is it too soon? Should I not have said that?”

But they were together and the rest, Crowley figured, would work itself out.

“D’ya trust me, Angel?”

There was a long silence, broken only by the rush of the Bentley over the coast road, for they were well out of London by now thanks to Crowley’s infernal driving speeds.

“With my life.”

It was so quiet and honest, each word clear as a pearl dropped into a still and starless sea. Oh. Stunned into silence, Crowley drove on, taking the corners with more vigour than strictly necessary until they pulled into a “luckily” deserted car park by a beach that hadn’t another soul on it.

Aziraphale got out of the car and stared at the boat on the shore.

“You want me to … get in that?”

Crowley shrugged, stepping into the boat. Aziraphale stared at him like he’d lost his mind, and for a moment Crowley thought he was going to get back in the car. But he got in, still staring, brow furrowed.

“Crowley, why on earth?”

“Well, it’s not like I’ll let any harm come to us. Boat’ll mysteriously find its way back to shore no matter what. Currents got nothing on demonic intervention.”

“That’s not even close to an explanation.”

Well, Crowley wasn’t going to give another one. Plunging the oars in the water, he steered them out to sea, using a little demonic influence to get them far enough out that the shore was more of an idea.

“Crowley, what in heaven’s name!”

“Shhh. I don’t want to talk about them. Or downstairs. How do you feel?”

Aziraphale shook his head, looking around at the vast ocean.

“Well, dear, I feel like I’m in a tiny fragile boat on a wide and turbulent ocean, and while I know we’re safe I am wondering if you had wine at breakfast, or even something stronger.”

Crowley said nothing, just watched the sky, on the edge of encouraging the storm along. He needn’t have worried. Seconds later the rain started to fall in fat drops. Concentrating, he forced time to slow enough that he could unfurl his wings and use them to shield Aziraphale before the first drops came within six inches of his pale moonstone hair or elegant hands.

“Eden.” Crowley said by way of explanation, staring at the bottom of the boat. “Felt adrift and all that. And you sheltered me with your wing, so. Wanted you to know how it felt. Or something.”

This had seemed like a much better idea earlier in the day.

Aziraphale still hadn’t said anything. Shit. Crowley was so engrossed in staying still and not just leaping overboard and swimming for shore that he didn’t notice at first when the boat rocked as Aziraphale closed the gap between them.

“Well now you’re all wet anyway.”

He groused, annoyed. And utterly enchanted by the diffuse halo the rain created around Azirphale, and how fetching he looked with raindrops on his eyelashes and cheeks, his eyes darkened by the storm around them. Aziraphale opened his mouth as if to speak, then seemed to give up, settling instead for grabbing Crowley’s lapels and kissing him thoroughly. Now Crowley was cast adrift too, but this time he didn’t mind one bit.

[#032] Shelter You (Good Omens)

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