Disclaimer: Nothing mine. A. N. So, I've been avoiding prompt 10, "Silk", because I had a preconceived notion of where it should go and didn't feel up to it. Finally, it went in a completely different direction. Hope you enjoy!

Love Never Fails

From the gossip Aziraphale had heard, there would be no problem for him to settle for a while. Sure, he would still have to go wherever he was sent, if a blessing was in order, but usually the higher ups would leave him alone in between missions. Rather than wandering like a lost soul, it made sense to make himself a little nest. Sure, Alexandria didn't go well – not at all. But that's why he meant to keep himself in check this time. Just a little bookshop. A nice, quiet place to enjoy himself. London was the centre of so many events. Maybe he'll come across Crowley again, one of these years.

And then humans had to dash his hopes. The French Revolution assured that Crowley – and, indeed, a few other demons at a minimum – would be staying in France for as long as it went on. After all, this was exactly his favourite demon's preferred environment. People being vicious to each other, and Crowley keeping up with the situation enough to be able to steal credit for whatever they would do. Other demons might be actively hissing suggestions about whom to murder next, or what to do. Crowley wouldn't. Not when he could avoid working and get a commendation anyway.

The wise thing to do would have been to wait. They had nothing but time. Eventually, history would align itself again and they'd be able to meet by literally stumbling into one another. Plausible deniability at its finest. But it was almost two full centuries since they'd shared some time together last, and Aziraphale was getting anxious. He wanted to see Crowley now! And sure, his wants shouldn't mean a thing, especially not when the other side was involved. It was wrong of him to just wish, no matter what Crowley thought of him.

Now, if only something called him to France... saving a nunnery, maybe? The revolutionaries had no respect for anything holy. (Not that Aziraphale judged politics. He just looked for excuses, and Gabriel and Michael were surely receiving too many prayers to count – couldn't they fulfill one, for once? But of course, the initiative couldn't come from Aziraphale. He wasn't supposed to know what initiative even was.)

It takes him a few years of mulling, but finally, Aziraphale snaès. He's going to Paris, with or without (apparently without) anyone's benediction. He can always find an excuse for the trip. Oh, not for Gabriel, but hopefully Gabriel is busy with anything else than personally surveilling Aziraphale's work. Maybe filing paperwork. Maybe looking at himself in the mirror. He doesn't care, and isn't going to waste time judging his boss.

No, the only creature who deserves a justification of Aziraphale's actions is, obviously, Crowley. But his favourite demon will take his word without prodding. Besides, it's not like it would be a lie. There's nothing quite like French cuisine, at least for some specialities, just as other countries have their own inimitable treats.

Of course, for his first date in so long, Aziraphale needs to be at his best. He actually likes his corporation (and Crowley seems to, as well), but everything can be enhanced. Besides, it's a question of respect. When you're looking to meet someone, you don't go around in rags, or whatever dreadfully sombre option is the new fashion. Crowley does appreciate things that have a certain flair, and the Ancien Régime might have had plenty of flaws, but they had a knack for style! The shiniest shoes he's ever had. Lace, brocade and sheer smuggled silk. As if Aziraphale would care about the most recent British laws to protect their economy when Crowley's impression of him is on the line!

Again, probably not the wisest option to pop into Paris during the literal Terror. But he's not scared. Love guides him. And it was Paul who wrote "Love never fails." Aziraphale is not sure who told him that (it might have been Metatron) but he's going to have faith. If he doesn't, who else is supposed to?

...So he's been caught. Not like he didn't expect them to try, and he really wasn't going to smite people who haven't – until now – even harmed him. Sure, they plan to cut off his head soon, but – it's not on them. All he wants is to stall for long enough to see Crowley. Surely, the news of a foreign noble getting himself caught will spread? Aren't executions an ever-popular entertainment?

For a moment he worries he might not be able to. And if he gets discorporated...forget the paperwork to have another one, there might be an investigation on why he lost the one assigned to him. And he can't really explain that. Before he can fret himself into a proper panic attack, thankfully, he's suddenly there. Not his knight in shining armour, oh no, he can just imagine Crowley's grimace if he said that. But definitely the hero of the day. Sure, his beloved criticises Aziraphale's style, as the thing that led the angel to have to beg a miracle off him. But Aziraphale has seen Crowley's eyes land on him. Glide along the shimmery beauty and register every line and curl of his clothes. Definitely worth it. And if getting caught sped up the 'rambling through Paris hoping to find Crowley', leaving the job to him instead...well. Aziraphale might not always be wise, or even smart, but he can be clever when motivated. Delicious crepes with Crowley at his side? A potent motivation, as far as he's concerned. Even if, to actually get them, he does have to change his pretty "date" attire with...whatever this is. Never mind. Mission accomplished.