TITLE: break my cage and spread my wings
SUMMARY: Everyone called the Titanic the 'Ship of Dreams', but for Aziraphale, it was the ship of nightmares, carrying her away from her home in England, and her dreams of freedom, and towards the bleak future of her arranged marriage in America. The only spark of light in the darkness is her new and tentative friendship with the boldly intimate Crowley.
AO3 TAGS: Alternate Universe - Titanic Fusion, Ineffable Wives (Good Omens), POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Rose Dewitt Bukater Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), Female Crowley (Good Omens), Male-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Jack Dawson Crowley (Good Omens), Caledon Hockley Gabriel (Good Omens), Ruth Dewitt Bukater Michael (Good Omens), Arranged Marriage, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Flirting, Teasing, Smooth Crowley (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Hand Holding, Dancing, Touching, Neck Kissing, Light Angst, Temporary Break Up, First Kiss, Kissing, Gentle Kissing, Naked Female Clothed Female, Naked Aziraphale (Good Omens), Insecure Aziraphale (Good Omens), Virgin Aziraphale (Good Omens), First Time, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Tribadism, more tags to come (probably), tags only look scary because of all the '(Good Omens)' additives (set by AO3 not me)
Chapter Ten: Show Me How to Use My Wings
Chapter Summary: "I think I could live in a cage if I could only fly this once."
AN: Woops. Totally (accidentally) lied about updating in two weeks. Alas, the Backstreet Boys Reunion Tour hasn't been very conducive to ficcing productivity for me… :/
1912 April 14, Sunday - Day 5 (Part Four)
It felt odd to be sitting amongst the rest of first class, taking dinner as if nothing had changed. Outwardly, nothing had. Everything about the world around her was exactly the same. Every woman around her was dressed and jeweled in only the most expensive of fabrics and priceless of gems, every woman floated through the room like perfumed clouds. It was like every other dinner she'd taken on the Titanic in the last four days, and like every gala she'd ever been forced to attend back home. Everything was exactly the same, except Aziraphale herself.
Crowley had changed her, since the moment they met. With the first exchange of words, Aziraphale had become someone else, a version of herself she never would have achieved alone in her cage. But Crowley had spoken to her, engaged her, looked at her. Crowley had dared to touch her, in a way even Gabriel did not yet dare, and Aziraphale had welcomed it, as she never would Gabriel. From the moment Crowley had taken her gloved hand, she'd ignited something in Aziraphale that even Aziraphale hadn't known existed.
But Crowley wasn't here now. She never would be again. There was no one to feed the pyre she'd set burning in Aziraphale, and the fire was burning out, turning to ash. All that sat in its place was a shell, an empty porcelain doll, covered in so many minuscule cracks that a harsh breath would shatter it.
Aziraphale felt so nauseous that she could barely eat, and the little she managed to force between her lips she couldn't even taste. Even she wouldn't have been able to say how much she had, but whatever amount, it sat heavily in her belly like stones, which only worsened her mood - food had always been a comfort to her in times of stress, but now even that was worthless.
She felt like she was suffocating.
The main course hadn't even been served yet, but Aziraphale could no longer stay. For once, she wasn't ashamed of her apparent invisibility at dinners such as this, but grateful for it. It allowed her to slip away unnoticed, out onto Titanic's deck in hopes that the fresh dusk air would help her breathe better. And it did. A little.
Much like the morning before, when she'd met Crowley the second time, Aziraphale wandered without purpose and without direction. The decks were empty with everyone at dinner, and she was grateful for the solitude, though it made it difficult to empty her mind. She couldn't tear her thoughts from Crowley, from how little they knew each other - how little time they'd known each other, but nor could she forget the way Crowley looked at her, the way she touched her, the way she made her feel. And like a parasite, Aziraphale could not forget the absolute certainty she felt in knowing that there would not be another in her life who looked at her like Crowley did. Gabriel never had and never would, and if Aziraphale married him, then she would never have the chance to know true affection, true love.
The glimmer of fire out of the corner of her eye caught and pulled Aziraphale's attention. She looked up her and her very soul was struck, not just by the fact that her feet (or the devil himself) had led her to the one place Crowley seemed to be, but by the vision Crowley made, still shrouded in her overcoat and leaning against the bow's railing and into the wind. The setting sun set her wind-blown hair aflame, and against the backdrop of the golden ocean, she looked like a painting. Even more so than she had the morning before.
For the first time in her life, the well-kept path of Aziraphale's life, paved by every decision that had ever been made for her (without her), forked. The new path was no better than a forest path, overgrown with every year where she'd failed to take control of her own future. In the distance, they connected again, at the point where Titanic reached America, but here and now, it forked. No matter what, she would have to return to her cage, but for the first time, she had an opportunity to stretch her wings. More than opportunity though, she had the desire. She only hoped it wasn't too late to have a taste of what she wanted but would never be able to keep.
With every step she took, down that overgrown path and towards Crowley, the harder Aziraphale's heart started to beat. She felt shaky and her hands sweaty, and she wiped them nervously on her skirts. She was afraid. She was absolutely terrified. She'd been denied everything she ever wanted, would now be the same? Or would Crowley break the pattern Aziraphale's entire life had established? There was certainly precedence, but that didn't mean that it would hold. But she wanted it to. She wanted it so bad that it hurt.
Afraid to get too close, Aziraphale stopped well outside arms length of Crowley, who still hadn't noticed her. Which, considering the amount of wind blowing at her from over the bow, was understandable, but it made things harder. There was still time to run. Crowley didn't know she was standing there. But if Aziraphale didn't gather her courage now, she would regret it until her death.
"Crowley?" Her voice was weak, unsure, just like she was, but it still must have been enough because Crowley whipped around to stare at her with wide eyes.
"Aziraphale," she said, and Aziraphale couldn't read any emotion in her voice. Or in her expression, not with the sun behind her the way it was.
Courage wavering, Aziraphale dropped her gaze to her hands, her fingers twisting themselves into painful knots around one another. Still, she forced herself to push on, to push her hope into the light. "I'm terrified," she confessed to her hands, her voice hoarse. "If I get caught, if Gabriel breaks our engagement, my mother will disown me. She'll throw me out. I don't know what I'll do, where I can go, if she does." Aziraphale had to close her eyes for a moment and take a deep, if shaky, breath to steel her nerves.
"I know it's… it's selfish, to ask this of you, but I.." Aziraphale was positively trembling in fear of rejection, and when she swallowed, it was painfully forced. "I thought I could survive this marriage, before I met you. Now… I'm not sure I will. But I think I could be strong enough if only I could have the memory of you. Of you and- and me. I think I could live in a cage if I could only fly this once."
Aziraphale's heart was a war drum in her chest, pounding so hard that she felt ill with it. She'd never been so nervous in all her life, not even when she'd met Gabriel for the first time. But perhaps that was because she'd stopped feeling much of anything by then, unless it was for a book. In the last two days alone, day and a half at best, really, Crowley had already shown Aziraphale that there could be more to life than loneliness and disappointment. That people, that a person could incite within her feelings only her most titillating novels had previously accomplished.
She slowly became aware that time had passed, was passing, and Crowley still hadn't spoken. When no response continued to be forthcoming, Aziraphale bravely flicked her eyes up, trying to glimpse Crowley's expression without lifting her head, but Crowley's expression was unchanged from the last time Aziraphale had seen it. It was still absent identifiable emotion and her eyes, made dark by virtue of the sun at her back, were still wide.
Bowing her head, feeling sick with shame and rejection and eyes prickling with tears she refused to shed again, at least not outside the safety of her room, Aziraphale forced an apology through shock-numb lips. "I shouldn't have come back," she mumbled, unable to find the energy to enunciate the way she'd been taught. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."
Feeling weak, Aziraphale's curtsy was less than elegant, and she nearly fell when she turned to hurry away as fast as her feet could carry her. She barely had time to register the fingers curing around hers before she was tugged back around in a dizzying whirl. Crowley's free hand caught her shoulder, stopping and steadying her, and Aziraphale stared up at her in surprise.
"I won't lie, it probably is a little selfish-" Crowley said, and Aziraphale flinched back in hurt surprise. Or she would have if Crowley's thumb hadn't slipped under her jaw to hold her in place. "But," Crowley continued sternly with a pointed look that somehow managed to reassure Aziraphale, calm her, if only a little, "for once in your life, you need to be selfish. For once in your life, angel, you should take what you want without waiting for permission. And I, for one, am very happy to enable your selfishness."
Aziraphale stared up at her for a long, uncomprehending moment. "I don't- I don't understand," she stuttered. She didn't understand why she wasn't being pushed away right now, why her rejection wasn't being repaid with rejection now.
Crowley blinked, and then she smiled. "Don't you get it, angel? I like you."
It was Aziraphale's turn to blink. "You… You do?"
This time Crowley laughed, the sound soft and warm, comforting in a way that no other laugh at Aziraphale ever had been. "'Course I do. You're smart and brave and, quite frankly, adorable, besides being downright gorgeous. An angel and a muse. What's not to like?"
"Oh, well, that's-" Aziraphale flushed and blustered and really didn't have any words at all. She did so wish Crowley would stop complimenting her because she didn't know what to do with them, but at the same time, Aziraphale hoped she wouldn't stop because they made her feel… important.
"Do you like me?" Crowley asked, her smile and her tone teasing.
The heat in Aziraphale's face was spreading under her clothes, making her skin prickle uncomfortably.
"Of course I do," Aziraphale said, though she couldn't meet Crowley's gaze when she said it. She meant it, of course she did, but to say it while looking directly into Crowley's eyes was far too… intimate.
"Any particular reason?" Crowley asked. Aziraphale was grateful that there was no insult in her tone, only affectionate fun.
"You… you treat me like… like a person," Aziraphale said, her eyes fixed somewhere around Crowley's shoulder, the tips of her ears tingling.
"Is that all it takes these days?" Crowley said, a laugh in her voice.
"Y-you're r-rather p-p-pretty t-too," Aziraphale stuttered. Her face felt like it was on fire. Giving compliments was as strange to her as receiving them, especially when the one she was giving them to was someone who had just confessed to liking her.
"Oh well, that's alright then." Crowley said it so seriously that Aziraphale had to look up to take in her expression, but when she did, she found Crowley barely holding back a laugh. Aziraphale gave Crowley a tentative smile and the hand at her cheek finally released her, sliding down her neck, over her shoulder, and down her arm to her hand.
"Now, I believe you said something about flying," Crowley said, her voice light as if Aziraphale weren't risking everything just to be with her. But Aziraphale knew that Crowley understood, understood her and her predicament, and the ease of Crowley's humour helped lift her tumultuous heart. "Do you trust me?"
She shouldn't. She'd known Crowley only a few days, and there were people she'd known her whole life that she still couldn't trust, but none of them had ever treated her like Crowley did.
"Yes."
Crowley's grin got brighter and the corners of her eyes crinkled, and Aziraphale felt… happy, just to see Crowley happy. That was new too. She was so used to simply being relieved when her mother or Gabriel were in a good mood, but she'd never been happy to see them happy.
"Then close your eyes."
Aziraphale looked at her, feeling only a tiny bit suspicious and a great deal electrified with the thrill of the unknown, with placing her trust and her well-being willingly into someone else's hands. Crowley's grin sharpened, and her eyebrows did a sort of wiggle, and Aziraphale couldn't help but smile. She took a deep breath, and then closed her eyes.
The darkness of her closed eyelids was made lighter by the setting sun, but it did nothing to lessen the exhilaration that came with her willing vulnerability. It was only heightened by the rushing wind blowing past her, by Crowley's fingers curling around her own, pulling her forward, closer to the bow's railing in small, halting steps.
"C'mon, angel, up to the railing," Crowley said from just in front of her. She guided Aziraphale's hands to the bar as she moved out of the way, removing the shield of her body from between Aziraphale and the wind.
The Atlantic gusts threaded easily even through the wool of Aziraphale's clothes, but the heat of Crowley stepping up behind her more than made up for it. The chill all but evaporated when Crowley curled fingers around Aziraphale's waist, in the dip at the bottom of her ribs, and though the touch was as properly placed as in any dance, the fact that it was Crowley touching her so proprietarily, so familiarly, made Aziraphale feel like she was on fire. The skin underneath the layers of clothes below Crowley's hands was suddenly too sensitive, every shift of Crowley's touch sending a thrill between Aziraphale's thighs.
"Step up onto the railing," Crowley said, so close to Aziraphale's ear that Crowley's lips grazed it and made Aziraphale's earring dance.
Aziraphale couldn't help but suck in a breath through her teeth, an ache settling between her legs and at the tips of her breasts. The need to be touched roared through her, and she had to swallow around the plea on her tongue. Crowley's hands were still at her waist, exerting pressure in a gentle reminder.
"Come on," Crowley said, her fingers tightening minutely. "It's safe, I promise."
Oh, that wasn't the problem at all, but Aziraphale could hardly tell her that. Still, she took another deep breath to fortify herself as she tightened her grip on the railing. She lifted her foot, searching for the lower rung before it slid under the heel of her boot, and she pulled herself up. It left her a little off balance, almost like she was about to tip over the edge, and she swung out her hand for the rigging she knew she'd seen before she closed her eyes. It was only when the rope was firmly in her hand did she pull herself up the rest of the way.
With her eyes closed, it was faintly terrifying, to feel the wind blowing so fiercely into her face, to feel the railing pushing into the skin right above her knee. Aziraphale felt one split second of vertigo away from plunging into the ocean.
The rope in her hand wavered and Aziraphale held on all the tighter, but a moment later, Crowley's warmth settled in at her back. "You haven't peeked, right?"
Aziraphale shook her head and regretted it immediately when it sent her sense of gravity spinning. "No," she said, though it came out as a bit of a squeak.
Crowley laughed, warm against the side of her face, and Aziraphale risked leaning back into Crowley, just a little bit. Crowley seemed to welcome her weight without protest, and she even wrapped her arms around Aziraphale's shoulders. But then Aziraphale felt fingers attempting to gently pry her own from the rope, and a spasm of fear made Aziraphale tighten her grip.
"Trust me, angel," Crowley said, the wicked siren that she was. Aziraphale felt no better than Odysseus, bewitched by voices of magic and in danger of falling into the sea and the mouths of the beasts waiting below the waves. "Trust me."
The fingers at hers didn't try to remove her hands from their death grip on the rope again. Crowley simply placed her hands over Aziraphale's and waited for her to find her courage. Not that Aziraphale completely managed, but she did manage to work her fingers free, and Crowley hummed against her ear as she took her hands. When she tried to pull Aziraphale's arms open wide, Aziraphale kept flinching, terror and trust making her stomach flip endlessly, but Crowley was very patient with her, until Aziraphale's arms were flung wide. The wind seemed stronger like this, and with only the ship's railing beneath her feet and against her knees, it felt like she was falling through open air.
"Stay just like this, angel," Crowley said, and slowly let her hands fall away from Aziraphale's. It made Aziraphale's stomach drop out and she couldn't help but tremble, feeling suddenly alone, even though Crowley was still pressed against her back. But almost immediately after she let go, Crowley' hands resettled at Aziraphale's waist, steadying her. It made the rhythm of Aziraphale's trembling shift into something softer, warmer. "Now, open your eyes."
For a moment, despite her fear, Aziraphale couldn't bear to open her eyes. She had the terrible feeling that it would… break the moment, the intimacy of being held by Crowley in her own darkness. But Crowley had asked it of her, so she opened her eyes and sucked in an involuntary breath..
"It's no dirigible but… what do you think?"
Aziraphale felt like crying. She hadn't really stepped up very far, but even that little bit changed the lay of the landscape. Or rather, how she saw it. The whole of the ocean spread out before her with nothing man-made to interrupt the view, and with the wind blowing through her clothes and against her face, and her arms spread wide, it really felt like she was flying over the waves with the wings she'd dreamt of her whole life.
"Oh… Crowley!"
Crowley's laugh sounded like Aziraphale's heart felt, too large and bright and just full of an emotion too great to be put into words. The hands at her waist slowly slid inwards across her belly, and the muscles in her stomach quivered at the delicacy of Crowley's touch. Suddenly overcome with the need to get closer to her, Aziraphale closed her arms over Crowley's, interlacing their fingers. Soft lips brushed her cheek and her heart leapt into her throat.
Aziraphale turned her head and to find Crowley's face so close to hers took her breath away. In the dusk glow, her golden eyes were as incandescent as the setting sun, and Aziraphale thought that, if she fell into them, it wouldn't be so bad. Crowley's lips parted, perhaps to say something, and as soon as Aziraphale's eyes fell to them, she couldn't look away. Especially as they began to move closer.
"Angel…"
It was strange, that Aziraphale had never considered that a kiss could be kind, but then again, she'd only before thought about how much she didn't want Gabriel to kiss her. Crowley's mouth was soft against hers, sending warmth all the way down her toes. It seemed to last both an eternity and a heartbeat before Crowley started to pull back.
"No," Aziraphale protested, or at least she thought she did. She tilted her chin up, a silent supplication, trembling in the wrap of Crowley's arms, and Crowley took her mouth again.
One of the hands at her waist curled tighter around her, pulling her more firmly against Crowley's front, but the other slid up the line of buttons of her waistcoat to the delicate skin of her throat. Long fingers cupped her chin, a thumb pressing gently at the hinge of her jaw, encouraging her to part her lips. She breathed in, almost overcome with the intimacy of breathing in the air that Crowley was breathing out.
Aziraphale was wholly unprepared for the barest touch of the tip of Crowley's tongue to the tip of hers, and even after the feelings Crowley had sparked in her the night before, pressed against her suite door, she was wholly unprepared for the frisson it sent through her. She felt electrified, as if she'd stood too close to a lightning bolt, every hair on end, every nerve on fire. Aziraphale whimpered and trembled, and Crowley made a sound against her mouth, her fingers over Aziraphale's belly curling and her fingernails scraping over the rough fabric of Aziraphale's waistcoat.
Then Crowley licked delicately into her mouth and Aziraphale's knees buckled.
The warm, wet slide of Crowley's tongue ignited a throbbing between Aziraphale's thighs so intense that it made her melt from the inside out. Every gentle surge sent a corresponding pulse through Aziraphale, until the tips of her breasts were tingling and she was aching between her legs. It was a deeper ache than the day before, so much so that she felt nearly desperate to press her hand against it to relieve it. More alarming was the sudden wish that Crowley would touch her there instead.
But Crowley's hand was safe and appropriate over Aziraphale's belly, all the while her tongue did wicked things to Aziraphale's mouth and to her sanity. All Aziraphale could do was cling to the arm around her waist as Crowley tasted her at her leisure. She felt like a kite on a string, adrift in the wind of Crowley's affections, even as it was Crowley's affections that kept her grounded.
For all that Aziraphale had dreaded being kissed all her life, she'd never once feared being kissed by Crowley. It was only now, as she was being treated to the intimacy of Crowley's kiss, the eroticism that the gentleness of it evoked, that she realized that what she'd been afraid of had been the lack of romance, of desire. She knew that she would never again be able to be kissed by someone if they didn't kiss her like Crowley was kissing her now. She wasn't sure that she wanted anyone else to ever kiss her again.
Sighing into Crowley's mouth, Aziraphale thought that she wanted to kiss Crowley forever. No matter what happened after this, she could never regret disobeying her mother. Not now that she knew what love could actually feel like.
TBC
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