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The water fell around them, slashing, crashing to the wall, each drop tearing a hole too small to see into the stone beneath them. Crawley remembered being told, long ago, that water could destroy stone given enough time, bit by bit, crumb by crumb, wearing it down. Even when he’d learned what time was, he hadn’t thought it possible.
Well. He could see it now. The water drove into the trees, the earth, ripping through, threatening to destroy the entire world.
“You know,” said the angel beside him, white wing lifted to shield him from the drops. “It – it won’t hurt you. Perfectly natural. Like a waterfall.” He didn’t sound very confident.
“Not sure I’m a fan of—”
The sky split in two.
For an instant, everything was bright as day, brighter, dazzling his eyes, searing through him like holy light; then the world plunged into darkness, and the noise hit, horrible rumbling, crashing, shaking the Wall on which they stood. It would fall, it would collapse under them, bury them in hard stone, broken and forgotten for all time…
The echoes of the crash died in the distance, and Crawley realized he had moved closer to the angel – or the angel to him – and a brilliant line of heat ran up his arm and down his side where they almost, almost touched.
“W – wish you’d kept that sword now, huh?” Crawley said, desperate for a joke. “Could use the warmth.” It wasn’t cold that made him shiver, though. His feet were soaked and icy, all the heat seemed gone from the world, but that wasn’t why he shivered.
“They…they needed it more…” the angel reminded him, a slight hesitation the only sign of nervousness from him; that and his hands, twisting behind his back where Crawley wasn’t supposed to see. “We’ll be fine. I am an angel, and nothing—”
Another flash of light, the horrible sound, and this time Crawley crouched lower, defensively, right up against the angel’s side.
It was a foolish thing to do, show weakness like that. In Hell, it would have gotten him attacked in an instant. But standing there, watching the sky crack and shatter, he felt the same endless fear and confusion as that first stretch of time after his Fall, unable to do anything but cower and hide while the other demons ripped each other apart.
Nothing for it now. The angel would surely attack, take advantage of his paralysis, perhaps wait until the next flash of light when he was at his most vulnerable, but what could Crawley do?
An arm wrapped around his waist. Crawley flinched, waiting to be thrown, or manhandled, or—
“It’s alright. I have you.” The angel tugged at him, pressing Crawley into his side, shifting his wing to shield them both. “We’re going – going to be alright.”
“Wha…” Crawley knew he should pull away, but the wind shifted, filling his wings, threatening to blow him from the wall. He grasped at white robes, twining his fingers into the strange, unearthly fabric, and buried his face in the angel’s shoulder.
“I…you know, I saw the humans doing this earlier,” the angel murmured, voice almost lost in the rain. “To comfort each other, when they first felt fear.”
“Not afraid,” Crawley objected, even as the light returned, sending shivers of anticipation through him.
“I…I never said you were,” the angel whispered, and his other arm came around to press Crawley’s head into the bend of his neck. Now he could feel how those hands trembled, a gentle, ceaseless vibration. When the noise returned, the angel buried his own face in Crawley’s shoulder, and the demon didn’t so much hear as feel the tiny squeak of distress that fell from those lips.
“Hey, A-Angel,” he managed, despite his own tremors. “We – we’ll be alright.” He folded his wings, wrapped them around the angel, cocooning them both. It was meager protection from the wind and cold, but it was all he could offer. The angel’s wings shifted again, stretching overhead, completing the feathery shelter they built.
It was dark inside, and warm, and very, very close. All he could smell was the sweet, pure scent of Heaven, the way it had smelt before everything went wrong. All he could feel were two impossibly strong arms, enveloping him into a softness he could never have imagined. All he could hear was the sharp, short breath hissing so close to his ears.
He knew when the light flashed again, a slight glow around the edges of the wings, illuminating their feet and legs below, but the pitch-black feathers absorbed it all, turned it back.
“I’m…I’m terribly sorry for this…imposition,” the angel murmured, but made no motion to separate.
“S’fine,” Crawley muttered, letting his arms stretch around the angel, cross behind his back, one hand resting in that space between wings. “We’re just…practicing. Human things.” Somewhat contradicted by the wings themselves, he supposed, but Crawley just pulled them tighter, wrapping them up, bringing him and the angel ever closer together. Their temples and cheeks pressed against each other now, Crawley all but sinking into the angel.
“That’s right,” the angel said. “Human things. Offering comfort. Warmth. They’re – they’re very good at that.” The noise again, sharp and tense, setting every feather vibrating, shaking them down to their bones. Another high sound of distress, and the angel dropped his chin.
Somehow - Crawley was never quite sure how - the demon found himself shifting, bringing their foreheads together, brushing their noses against each other, breaths mixing in the dark space. Crawley had to crouch a little to make it happen, but it felt right.
“Yeah. Comfort.” Crawley said. “S’very angelic, I’m sure, offering comfort to an enemy. Even if he doesn’t need it.”
“Yes. Precisely.” The rain seemed to fall even more fiercely, and it may have started to creep through their blended feathers. Certainly, Crawley could see wet trails running down the angel’s face. “Is there…ah…any – any – any other way I could…could…”
“There is, um, one thing,” he said. “Saw the humans do it.”
The light flashed again, they contracted, closer, the angel’s face tipping up, his tipping down—
Crawley bumped his mouth against the angel’s, held it there, parting his lips just a hair. He wasn’t entirely sure he was doing it right.
The angel jerked away, gasping, arms coming free, and Crawley felt a burn of shame. What had he been thinking? Hadn’t been, of course, just doing stupid things, the way he always did. Might as well leave now and—
The angel’s hands both slid up to cup Crawley’s face, and brought him back down again, tipping his face slightly to the side. They brushed their faces together again, mouths tight and shut, just pressure against each other’s teeth really, but they tried over and over.
The noise struck them, pulsing through them, and in the gasps of fear, their mouths found the way to fit together, parted, relaxed, taking the other’s fright and pulling it in, replacing it with something soft and welcoming.
They locked lips together, again, and again, hardly remembering to breathe. The angel’s hands shifted, one cupping the back of Crawley’s head, the other circling his neck, to bring them even closer.
All at once, Crawley’s snake tongue got the better of him and brushed a little too far past the angel’s lips. Again, their faces parted, but not so far this time. “Oh,” the angel said. “Oh.”
“Sssorry,” Crawley muttered. “I know it’s…it’s not…”
“Do that again,” the angel said.
“Wh – sserioussly?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” And before Crawley could object, their mouths were together again, only this time it was the angel’s tongue brushing his lips, seeking entrance into his mouth and oh… oh was all he could think.
They soon forgot entirely about the storm around them, caught up in the rush of experimentation. Nibbling lips. Pressing tongues. Trailing mouths across jawlines and back again.
They stumbled a bit, and the angel shoved Crawley against the parapet, rough stone digging into his back. The shield of feathers over their heads vanished as the white wings instead crossed behind Crawley’s shoulders, cushioning him, supporting him, and the rain poured in, drenching their hair and faces and robes. Neither even noticed. How could Crawley notice, when he had just found a spot, there, by the angel’s ear, that brought about the most wonderful moan of pleasure? Or when they angel decided to see what happened when he brought his lips to Crawley’s throat?
The passage of time became meaningless again, as it had been long ago in Heaven. Nothing but wings and lips and arms stronger than stone, than water, than anything, holding Crawley together when the storm threatened to shake him apart.
Slowly, he realized the rain had ended, the night had gone quiet, and the only light was from the billion stars above, looking down on an angel and a demon in a state no such beings had ever been caught in before.
“Uh. Angel. I, uh…” He managed to disentangle a hand and cup it around the perfect curve of the cheek before him. “I think it’s done.”
“Mmmmh,” the angel sighed, face flushed pink, and rested his head against Crawley’s shoulder. “That was…good. With the lips.”
“Yesssss…” It came to Crawley’s notice that he was drenched and shivering, his robes stuck to him in uncomfortable ways, his feathers were all out of sorts, and his hair…he didn’t even know hair could do that, it was horrifying. And yet he never wanted to move from this spot.
“Never did anything like that in Heaven,” the angel said, sounding almost… drowsy.
“Nor in Hell. Not much fun in Hell.” He tried his lips against the angel’s brow, and liked the feel of it. “Probably wouldn’t be allowed.”
That sent a jolt through the angel, and he pulled back, eyes wide. “Not allowed?”
“What?” Crawley replayed what he’d said. “No, no, I—”
The angel stumbled away, eyes jerking up to the sky. “Oh! Oh, no, no, this is, this is all wrong. I shouldn’t – we shouldn’t—” his hands flapping anxiously. “I have to tell my…I have to report…I…this was wrong!”
He looked wretched, more so than when he’d admitted to giving away his sword. Face twisted in a grimace, gasping in pain. As if he might discorporate on the spot.
“I didn’t mean that,” Crawley tried to soothe him, hands waving almost as frantically as the angel’s. “Just that…it…we…” His stomach plummeted, an entirely new sensation, and one he didn’t like at all. Inside that wonderful shelter of feathers, wrapped in a strange warmth that filled his mind, it had seemed appropriate. Necessary, even, compelled by emotions he didn’t understand, emotions that couldn’t be wholly blamed on the chemicals coursing through a human corporation.
But here, laid bare beneath the light of the stars, he realized: what they had done... whatever it was...it was indefensible. Iniquitous. Wrong.
“What…what do I even say?” The angel moaned, pressing clasped hands to his lips, trembling again, so much worse than in the storm. “What do we call this...this...?”
“I…I…” A desperate thought burst into Crawley’s mind. “Temptation!”
“I beg your pardon?”
“A temptation. I tempted you. With the mouth thing.” He nodded, pushing upright, away from the parapet – the scene of their crime – tugging his robes back into order. “Very demonic, temptations. Practically expected, when I see my adversary in such a vulnerable state.”
“So...you just…” The angel’s face collapsed into confusion and a strange kind of pain, one that pierced Crawley through the heart. “All that was...”
“Of course, it failed,” he went on, twisted mind doing what it did best. “Because with humans, the mouth stuff leads to, er, other stuff.” He waved a hand vaguely. He hadn’t actually seen those bits, but they struck him as messy and uncomfortable. “Really forbidden stuff, I should think. Never got there because you distracted me. Nh. Thwarted me.”
“I…did?” The confusion at least seemed to be overwhelming the pain now. “Your…you were…what?”
“Very angelic, thwarting a demon. Who knows what I might have accomplished otherwise?” He leaned closer, hoping the angel could see the hint in his eyes. “Probably the best thing you could have done, keeping your enemy where you could see him.”
Understanding dawned like the sunrise, a smile more beautiful than Creation itself. “Yes…yes!” He nodded his head. “You’re right. Turned your wicked scheme back on you. Kept you from fulfilling, ah, whatever it was you set out to do.”
“W – yeah! Exactly my point!”
“And I suppose…” He furrowed his brow, face troubled as he worked through a terrifying new conundrum. “My superiors don’t need to know…the exact nature of the temptation, or how I stopped it.”
“Too much detail can be a burden,” Crawley agreed fervently. “Best to…keep it simple.”
“You know, I think I shall.” The angel shook his wings, sending droplets to splatter against Crawley, and shot a look up at the stars. “I…I should report immediately. No reason to stay here.”
Crawley spared one more glance at the brilliant, unattainable light, then turned away. Too painful. “Yeah. Do…what you must. I should report in, too.
“Wait.” The angel’s face was flushed again, and his teeth caught at his plump, red lip – plumper and redder from the activity, Crawley was sure. Just watching those teeth work brought back pleasant memories. “Was that, I mean, that is…did you…enjoy it?”
Crawley smiled. “Best temptation I ever did.”
“Oh. Well then.” The angel’s gaze dropped to his hands, and he shuffled just a step closer. “Perhaps you could…tempt me again sometime.”
“I might. If you’re still around Earth.”
“Oh, I think I will be. Someone needs to keep you in line, wily serpent.” But a smile had returned - not the brilliant, glowing one of before, just a smug little purse of the lips. Crawley thought about how it would taste.
“I look forward to it…” He shook out his own wings, though he wouldn’t fly to get to his destination. “Wait. Before you go.” Crawley stared at his feet, feeling a fool. “What’s, um, what’s your name?”
The angel’s hand brushed his jaw, tipping his head up to meet twinkling eyes. “Aziraphale.” The hand dropped down to find Crawley’s, to envelope it, filling it with waves of warmth. “And I...I look forward to the next time, Crawley.”
“Yeah,” he nodded, and on another impulse, leaned forward and pressed his lips against that wonderful soft cheek. “Be seeing you…Aziraphale.”