Thank you Azeran and Intergalacticsupertwink for the beta work. 3

So, I guess I might need to clarify that the initial attraction to Angelique (unbeknownst to both Crowley and Aziraphale) is because she is a Nephilim. They do bring it up but I think I should have done a better job with the clues. Like the kiss on the dance floor and why Aziraphale can't dismiss the strong love that Angelique emits. Not sure how to go about fixing that right now though.

Sorry for the subpar art this time. I did it pretty fast because I want to post every day lol so the quality suffered a bit.

As usual, your comments and support really make my days, especially in these crazy-ass times! I hope you are still healthy and safe!


Two whole nights and days, Angelique barely speaks a word. Angelique sleeps a lot, nibbles at whatever Aziraphale procures without leaving the house, and dutifully drinks lots of water and tea. He finally told her everything that happened. He'd been ready for another crying fit, but she didn't even sniff with sadness. It was worse. She was like a shell, a husk, unruffled and numb.

The angel was beside himself with worry for her. On the third morning, after she barely eats her breakfast, Aziraphale pulls up a chair near her side of the bed and steeples his fingers over his lips.

"Angelique, it's all right to feel overwhelmed. I'm sure you have questions about your nature and the like–"

"I'm not," she replies dryly with a shrug.

He's confused and drops his hands into his lap to worry at his fingers. "Not what?"

"Overwhelmed," Angelique says, looking at her half-eaten toast. "When you told me what I am, it felt right. Almost like I'd already known. It's a bit surreal, but I'm fine, really."

"You're clearly not fine. I'm your friend, you can talk to me–"

"You mean how you talked to me when you lied about being fine?" Her face is still blank, but her eyes are hard.

That shut him up. "Touche. But this situation is different, my–"

"How is it different?"

Aziraphale scoffs and flounders for a bit. "You're heartbroken."

"So are you."

The angel's jaw drops open. He makes some attempt to speak but has no idea what to say. He said he wouldn't lie to her again. Does staying silent count as lying? It doesn't matter because he can feel a fissure between them grow and it's making Aziraphale desperate to fix it.

Angelique has still not looked Aziraphale in the eye. He licks his parched lips, clenches his fist and decides to open up a bit about something he's never been able to talk about.

"Yes." The angel is shocked that the admission comes out so calmly and easily.

Surprise fixes itself on Angelique's expression. Her eyebrows shoot up, and there is a spark of hope in that look. It was obviously the right thing to say. It's the most feeling she's expressed since the first evening in the cottage.

He can tell she's waiting for him to elaborate and it takes some time to form more words. "My heart," he pauses, hoping he won't start crying, "has been breaking for a very long time. So long that I fear I've gotten rather used to it. But you see," he shifts uncomfortably in his chair, "it's my own doing." He gives her a sad smile. "So, it is a bit different. But suffering in any form is still suffering. I'm here for you if you'd like to talk."

The beauty lets out a long sigh and then flips her hand over and beckons for Aziraphale. He takes her offering a bit too eagerly, but there's nothing for it now. She stays silent for a while as she stares at their clasped hands and rubs her thumb over his knuckles softly. Every swipe sends a jolt straight to Azirphale's gut.

"Aziraphale?"

"Yes, dear?" He swallows audibly in anticipation.

"I know we have a lot in common, but I'm not Crowley," she replies with a whisper.

The statement throws him, but he nods slowly anyway. "I know that."

She nods as well and purses her lips before seeming to come to some decision. "Do you love me?"

Someone might as well crack open the ground beneath him because Aziraphale is freefalling into a nervous breakdown. He can hear himself stammering from a faraway place.

"I-what-I-I I, nnn-ye-yes, of course, I-I lo-love all of, um, God's creatures, m'n-angel, after all. So. Eh. Yes. Yes. Of course."

Angelique stares at him in bewilderment before she bursts into a fit of giggles.

One hand still in Angelique's, Aziraphale only has the other to hide his face behind. Despite the incredibly awkward conversation, he starts to chuckle hysterically. The laughter quickly turns into sobs, and now he's full-on crying into his palm. He feels a tug and looks up briefly.

"Would you like to come to bed," she asks kindly.

With a snivelling inhale, Aziraphale shakes his head and squeezes her hand. "I'm fi–"

"If you finish that thought, I'm going to toss you out on your arse. I may be small, but I'm strong. You know I can do it." Angelique smiles wryly and cocks a brow, challenging him.

Aziraphale manages a good snort and nods. "Yes, I know you can."

"Come to bed?" She asks again gently.

"I don't know–I mean–I don't sleep. I don't think–"

"Aziraphale," her tone is commanding, it's the 'teacher voice' she uses in class that he's come to obey when on the dance floor. Her eyes pierce his own with a knowing look. "Come to bed."

Something clicks in Aziraphale's brain. He's not sure what it is, but there is no room to argue, and he finds he doesn't want to. Aziraphale stands on surprisingly sturdy legs. Angelique lifts the covers and moves back, giving him room. Her grasp is a lifeline that he grips almost painfully hard as he climbs into bed.

When Aziraphale wriggles into a comfortable position on his side facing her, he finally loosens his grasp on her hand. Angelique tucks them both in and lies down.

Their noses are nearly touching, and their eyes trace over each other's faces until they lock. There's a small twinkle in Angelique's gaze when she speaks in conspiring whispers.

"I think I have you figured out, Mr Fell."

Aziraphale can feel heat rush to his face at the way she utters his alias. "What is there to figure out?" He really wants to know. It feels like information he needs to piece himself together into something whole.

"It doesn't matter how much the world has shaped you," Angelique says like she's casting a spell, "or how far you are from Heaven. There's only one reason why you order the whole menu, why you hoard so much stuff, why you're late to every fucking appointment," and here they snigger together, "why you wear outdated clothes and use outdated words, why you're my best student," she smiles fondly at him. The smile fades, and she narrows her eyes. "Why you haven't told Crowley you're in love with him."

Aziraphale gasps and swears his heart has stopped.

Angelique waits for Aziraphale to breathe again. "Why," he rasps back.

"Because you're an angel," she replies with a grin. Angelique doesn't leave him confused for long. "Angels were created without free will, right? Even though you've claimed it for yourself," Angelique cups his cheek and grazes her thumb over Aziraphale's lips. "You're still wired to follow orders, my sweet soldier."

The endearment warms his belly and makes his brain fuzzy. His lips are on fire.

"You don't like to choose, you have trouble deciding, you second guess yourself more than anyone I know, you don't change unless it's forced on you. You follow my direction without a single misstep on my stage."

A weight begins to lift off of the angel that he didn't know he was carrying. Something is shifting inside him. Things seem clearer. The sense that he's understood begins to shake his world. At the same time, he feels ashamed.

"It's pathetic, isn't it?" He asks with a frown.

"Not at all. You just need to practice taking control when it comes to some things and," she gives him a coy smirk, "be careful with who you hand control over to for other things." She winks and then her eyes drop to his lips.

The implication and the hunger in her eyes make Aziraphale's pulse quicken. "I would never get between you and Crowley," he deflects.

Angelique barks out a laugh. "Sweetheart, you've been between us from the start!" She continues to chuckle while Aziraphale feels like she's just thrown a bucket of ice water over his head. "Oh, don't look at me like that," her smile is all teeth. "It never bothered me. I knew I'd lose him someday," her breath is shaky, and her eyes moisten, but her smile doesn't fade. "I knew what I was getting into. I didn't think I'd fall so hard… or at all. I just wish," she sniffs and blinks away tears, "I was hoping that I'd finally have a relationship that lasted a whole year." She chuckles mirthlessly. "And someone hot to show off at Christmas dinner. Give my parents some hope."

They're both laughing earnestly again.

"Well," Aziraphale clears his throat and squares his shoulders. "I might not be hot , but I will escort you to Christmas dinner if you'll have me."

"Oh, you're hot."

"Lies are a slippery slope to Hell, madam."

She pushes him playfully. "I love the way you look. It's perfect for you. You're perfect." Before Aziraphale can retort, the light goes out entirely in Angelique's whole demeanour. "Anyway, there may not even be a Christmas dinner. Ever again."

"Angelique, I promise you–"

"Don't," she snaps. "Don't promise me anything," she says again softer. "Just hold me for now. Until I fall asleep."

It's not a request, and Aziraphale has no desire to object.


Want early access to all my work including this one? Go to my Instagram and comment on any post with "add me!" at mordellestories

Find me on discord (mordelle#9350).

Read my other Good Omens fanfic: Ineffable Timing & Bless the Fallen