A lighter chapter today folks! Hope you enjoy it!
Thank you beta's Azeran and Intergalacticsupertwink!
In the few weeks they've spent together in the cottage, a daily, domestic ritual has blossomed.
While Angelique gains back her strength, Aziraphale tends to her in any way he can. First thing in the morning, Aziraphale quietly makes some breakfast. He's not a great cook, but he manages to make a decent scramble with toast and, of course, delicious hot cocoa without the use of any miracles.
Now that she's able to walk unassisted, sometimes Angelique comes downstairs on her own. Other times, Aziraphale brings breakfast to her in bed. He always pauses at the door before he knocks, in case she's having a cry. He wants to comfort her in times like those, but whenever he tries, Angelique will quickly try to dry her tears and paste a polite smile on her face. She obviously wants to shed her tears in private, so he waits. Her life has changed so drastically in such a short amount of time that Aziraphale can't help but be awed by the way she's handling it all.
Mornings are mostly quiet. She'll watch a little telly, volume low, avoiding the news. Or she'll write for a bit. She calls it her "morning pages."
In the afternoon, they take a stroll after eating some sandwiches, only around the cottage. Angelique has already mentioned she'd like to visit the village and the shore, but Aziraphale is hesitant to take her out in the open like that.
They play board games and cards, and Aziraphale discovers that Angelique is extremely competitive. He also finds out that letting her win is a high offence and never does it again after that one, fateful time. So, he always beats her at chess, and he can't help but laugh as she curses up a storm anytime he takes her pieces. She pays him back in full by wiping the floor with him when they play monopoly.
After watching a film in the evenings, Angelique will pick a book, and Aziraphale reads aloud. He enjoys every moment with her, but this is his favourite pastime because Angelique has taken to snuggling close, or sometimes she places her head in his lap. On one occasion, Aziraphale began stroking her hair absentmindedly. She hummed in appreciation, and now he does it every time.
Sometimes though, she turns on the radio, finds him wherever he is, silently pulls him into the living area, and they dance. For a few songs, they both forget their troubles. But there's always a growing heat in his veins that's difficult to ignore. He's nearly discorporated on a few occasions from mortification. While Aziraphale tries his best to keep the distance necessary for her not to feel a particularly hard area below his belt, she's inevitably pressed against it a few times. There's no way she didn't notice, but neither one of them mention those incidents. He thanks the Almighty for small mercies.
Things only get worse for him when it's time to retire. Angelique has come to expect him to join her in bed and spoon her until she falls asleep.
This is a stressful time for Aziraphale. Extremely challenging. Does she think that because he's an angel, he can just turn off his corporation's physical desires?! He made his Effort centuries ago. It's not like he can just wave it away now! Thank the Lord that she barely moves in her sleep. Aziraphale himself is a statue. When her breathing finally evens out, he escapes to the WC and takes care of the problem the human way.
After that, Aziraphale showers and heads back downstairs to think, to plan.
So far, this is what he has formulated. One, he's quite sure that there is only one assassin. Two, he has a hunch it's an angel, but that's only because he can sense love from Angelique. Three, whoever it is, must be the one who sired her ancestor and is now trying to tie up loose ends he didn't know existed until he recognised his own essence in Angelique.
This means a few things. The attacker is presenting as a male. The attacker has access to reports on Aziraphale and Crowley. And, the attacker is most likely working on his own to avoid being found out.
However, it doesn't matter how many times he runs through the facts and theories. Aziraphale is stuck in a cottage with a defenceless mortal. He cannot leave Angelique alone with nothing and no one to protect her. This is when he begins to damn Crowley to the ninth circle of Hell.
Aziraphale is wondering if this is going to be his life for the next eighty to a hundred years depending on how long Angelique's unique genes will allow her to live. And then what?
Aziraphale shudders at the thought of having to bury her, and there will be little he can do to protect her soul once it leaves her body. He hopes her assassin is a demon. That way, the monster will not be able to follow her past the gates of Heaven. He could guard her soul and leave her at the gates and then...
And then most likely never see her again.
"Aziraphale?" He hears her call from the bedroom. "Could you please come here?"
When he enters her room, he sees Angelique has laid out men's clothing on the bed.
"I need to get out of here, Aziraphale," she says, a bit crazed sounding. "I'm starting to lose it."
Aziraphale sighs and shakes his head. "Angelique–"
"Hear me out!" She takes his hand and drags him to the bed. "We'll wear disguises and have a backstory. Look!" She waggles her ring finger in his face. "We have the rings already!" She exclaims excitedly while he turns beet red. He'd wondered when she'd bring that up. "We won't draw attention. Please?!"
How can he say no? He closes his eyes, brings two fingers to his temple and rechecks the town for enemies like he does every day, multiple times a day. Nothing. "All right."
She cheers and starts to pull her pyjama shirt over her head.
"But only for a quick visit to the market for now. I suppose I should stop miracling food. We are out of milk and other small–" Aziraphale's eyes go wide at the sight of Angelique's bare– "breasts."
Angelique jerks her head up to look at him and then down at her chest. "They're not that small," she mutters with a pout. "I always thought they were quite proportional."
Aziraphale shakes his head and does an about-face before he stammers out a reply. "No, no. They are, erm, yes, proportional. Very nice." Stupid...
"Thanks!" She chirps happily. "I'll cut my hair and wear this kid's clothes. And then you can wear this."
A shirt and a pair of denim trousers land on his head. He picks them up like they might give him plague. "Must I?"
"If you go out looking like you usually do, you will attract attention, sweetheart. Us appearing as a couple will already look a bit... odd. No need to cause more of a stir."
"Odd?" Aziraphale frowns. "Why odd?" He makes the mistake of assuming it's safe to turn around and catches a perfect glimpse of Angelique's lovely arse right as she's squeezing into a pair of briefs. "Good lord." The angel covers his eyes with the button-down in his hand.
"Well," she says simply like she's not killing him slowly with her brazen behaviour, "the clothes will make you look younger, but our age difference will still be apparent. Especially with your hair colour. I think I saw a hat somewhere."
Aziraphale scoffs. "My corporation cannot look older than fifty, and you're actually turning fort–" she rips the shirt out his hands and glares up at him.
"What now?" Angelique says with a sharp warning tone.
The angel remembers something about age and women and clears his throat. "I see your point. I'll look like your, what's the expression? Sugar father?"
Angelique doubles over and guffaws for quite some time. Still chuckling, she reaches for Aziraphale's waistcoat and begins to unbutton it. He gasps and swats her hands away. "Some propriety, madam! Honestly!"
"He says after watching me strip–"
"I did not–!" Aziraphale cuts himself off, huffs, and storms out of the room while listening to Angelique's tinkling giggles. "She's going to ruin me."
