NSFW content ahead! LIME!
To say that Aziraphale is beside himself with worry is the understatement of the millennium. He's trying very hard to keep it together while he searches high and low for his charge, his friend, his... something.
Crowley is going to kill him.
Crowley. Is going. To kill him.
Aziraphale hopes the Almighty gets to him before Crowley does for his complete and utter failure at protecting anything and anyone, and for driving the people who love him away. That's the worst of it. This is all his doing. He pushed Angelique away just like he pushed Crowley away.
Why, why, why can't he do anything right?!
At this rate, Aziraphale's emotional constipation is going to get his loved ones killed, or worse!
Oh, he's searched everywhere. It hasn't been a full twenty-four hours yet, but it feels like ages. He hasn't called the authorities. He hasn't called Crowley.
What if she just needs some time away? What if she comes back? Where can she go? She has no money, no transportation, no bloody protection from strangers or immortals set on destroying her! Oh, when he finds her he's going to, he's going to–
He's going to make sure Angelique knows he is extremely cross with her! How could she put herself in danger like this?! She said she'd talk to him. She assured him that she would... she would... it's hopeless, isn't it?
Utterly hopeless, but what else can he do? The only thing left to do is call Crowley. Not that Aziraphale believes the demon will answer. The angel makes a decision. He'll continue searching, and if Angelique does not return by nightfall, he's going to use a rather tremendous miracle to summon the demon by force.
Aziraphale's search is interrupted by a small blip on his angelic radar. He had used minor miracles on all the entrances of the house to alert him of intruders. Someone has trespassed. His brain immediately jumps to Angelique, but what if it's not? What if it's her attacker?
Aziraphale redoubles his efforts to conceal himself and his aura and pulls his flaming sword from the aether. Heaven had yet to figure out that he had returned a fake three years prior. He'd kept it for emergencies, insurance. Now was as good a time as any to use it.
The sun is setting behind him when Aziraphale lands quietly in the overgrown garden behind the cottage. The angel is frazzled beyond words, and his anxiety is mounting to great heights, but he pushes onward. Before he opens the backdoor, he lights his blade. He wills the hinges not to creak and closes off his lungs though they protest. He looks into every shadow, and he peers carefully around corners. He inches his way into the parlour and–
Aziraphale freezes at the sight of Angelique kneeling before the fireplace, drenched and shaking as she tries to light the tinder.
All the air he was holding rushes out of him loudly, the sword extinguishes and clatters to the ground.
Angelique spins around, eyes wide and fearful.
They stare at each other in silence for a long while before Angelique pipes up. "I'm sorry," she whispers, lip quivering, "I went a few towns over, I thought it'd be safer, I know I should have left a note or told you, I was just so, so - I just wanted to call my mum." The matches fall from her hands, and she starts to cry. "Her number is disconnected. I dunno, I dunno what to do... I just want my mum," she buries her face in her hands and sobs, "I want my mum–"
Aziraphale has her in his arms in a flash. It's then he notices that he's soaked to the bone as well. "Come," is all he says as he hoists her up and cradles her. He rushes up the stairs before he can think better of it and only sets her down when he steps into the bathtub.
Aziraphale's arm is still supporting Angelique, wrapped around her, and her head is tucked into his chest as he turns the water on. The stream hits the back of his head, frigid. He's already chilled down to the marrow, so it doesn't phase him. He wraps his other arm around her and waits for the water to heat. Angelique's muffled sobs are heartbreaking, but Aziraphale's already been through the wringer more times than he can count today, so he's calm. In fact, hasn't felt this clear-headed since that day at the airbase. And he knows exactly what to do and what to say.
The angel turns them around once steam starts to rise and the nape of his neck thaws. Angelique jolts and hisses at the jarring temperature change, but it cuts her crying and turns her sobs into small hiccups. He waits. He knows waiting is what got them into this mess to begin with, but Aziraphale doesn't think Angelique can hear him yet. So, he rubs her back and kneads her tense shoulders until she's quiet and pliant. When Angelique finally does calm, he pulls back enough to tilt her head up and meet his eye.
"You gave me such a fright, darling," Aziraphale murmurs. He ignores the surprise in her eyes. "I love you dearly." He ignores her gasp. "Please don't ever do anything like that again." Aziraphale pushes her wet bangs back. "I truly believe your parents are safe, but mark my words I will find them." Here he has to swallow down the lump forming in his throat. "I know what it's like to feel like you have no one else to turn to, not even your mother. But we are never truly alone. We are never truly friendless. And I am here for you, Angelique."
Angelique's eyes widen, and her jaw drops. She's looking above his head in awe. Aziraphale doesn't have to guess as to what she sees. He can feel his true form is close to the surface, and holy light is reflected in Angelique's eyes.
The angel places a tender kiss to Angelique's forehead, then leans down, eyes still locked on hers. "I'm your guardian now, your angel. Give me your orders now, and I shall obey."
She's looking at him like she's never seen him before in her life. "I," she breathes, "I don't know what to say."
"Well," Aziraphale gives her a crooked smile that crinkles his eyes, "if you ordered me to kiss you right now," he shrugs, "I'd have to comply now, wouldn't I?"
Stunned, Angelique manages a huff and a bewildered smirk. "Okay," she replies cautiously, "kiss me then."
It doesn't take a moment for Aziraphale to tilt his head and kiss her senseless. When she pulls on his borrowed shirt, he gives in and presses her up against the tiles. Angelique opens her mouth, and their tongues meet. Aziraphale has a knee between her legs and she ruts on him.
"Please," Angelique manages between kisses, "I need, I need..."
"Mhm," he knows what she needs.
It won't be like the previous night. He's in control. He knows not to go too far. It's not the right time for it. But he can feel her need for some kind of relief from the tumultuous events that have transpired.
"Tell me," he rasps in her ear, then peppers kisses down her jaw. "Tell me what you want."
Angelique whines and rocks. "Touch me. Touch me, please."
It feels right when Aziraphale nips at her neck. It feels right when he drags a hand up her sodden shirt, cups her breast, and rubs circles on her hardened nipple. It feels right when his other hand fumbles with her trouser button and zips down the fastener. It feels right, dipping his digits down her clothed mound, then tugging her pants aside and grazing her tender, warm flesh with the pads of his fingers.
Aziraphale doesn't even need to penetrate, he rubs slowly but purposefully, and Angelique begins to unravel quickly with keens and moans.
"More," she commands, and Aziraphale obeys.
He thrusts his hips in time with his hand, grunting and groaning softly into her ear. Another deep kiss and a flutter of his fingers, and Angelique comes apart, tearing her mouth away to cry into his chest with pleasure this time.
Angelique relaxes and pants into his shirt. Before she's come down completely, her hand begins to claw at his belt. Aziraphale takes her by the wrist, brings up her hand and kisses her palm.
"Time for that later, love," he smiles genuinely and then plants another kiss to her lips. She can barely keep her eyes open. "It's been a tiresome day. You're positively knackered, and I can do with lie-down, myself." With a final thrust onto her hip and a tender kiss to her bare collarbone, Aziraphale pries himself away and shuts off the hot water that hadn't dared run out.
Angelique is as pliant as wet clay as Aziraphale helps her undress and towel dries her. Her naked form is of no concern to him at the moment. His main goal is to care for Angelique.
"Go on, dear," he tells her gently, "put on something warm and get to bed. I'll join you in a moment."
Angelique complies without a word, slowly and limply, she walks out. Aziraphale removes his clothes and dries himself quickly. In nothing but a dressing gown, he climbs into bed next to a sleeping Angelique, blesses her dreams, and holds her until the world, and all its troubles fall away for the night.
Feeling a bit better? Or worse?
Curious, how do you all feel about Angelique now?
