Author's Note: Whew, finally the last Chapter :) A big THANK YOU to everyone who reads and reviews!
ALL IN A LIFETIME'S WORK
Chapter 11
Aziraphale sipped at the piping hot tea and set it down carefully on the fine porcelain saucer in front of him. He's sure he's never had white jasmine tea before, and wondered why he never got around trying any of the Asian varieties until lately. It was wonderfully fragrant and sweet without being like the commercial 'flavored' teabags they sold now in supermarkets. It didn't even need sugar.
"Thank you so much Mrs. Warren, the tea is wonderful."
The middle-aged woman sitting before him smiled, "Oh, shhh nonsense. I can't even begin to thank you enough for saving my Catrina." Her dark hair greying at the edges was elegantly combed back, reserved curls falling to her shoulders, she was a spitting image of her daughter. "More mooncake?"
Aziraphale smiled and carefully reached over to the plate she offered, "Thank you. Though I wouldn't say that I did it all by myself." He picked up a small round pastry filled with a sweet bean paste the angel was beginning to like more and more.
"Yes, yes. I haven't seen Mr. Crowley lately." She laughed, "Maybe I should have more sherry or wine out so he'd come by more often.
The angel laughed, "Maybe." Aziraphale took a bite and looked out the living room's wonderful view of New York's upper East side.
Its been about 3 weeks since 'the incident', the young girl - Catrina Warren - was back in school, the angel's right arm was in a sling, and the world got back turning.
Aziraphale would be lying if he said that he hasn't had any nightmares about that night, but it was safe to say that he was feeling better. The few days he spent in the hospital was more for appearances - Heaven opting to let his body heal the 'normal' way once he was out of the red - but he had to admit that he quite liked the endless boxes of chocolates and sweets and stuffed animals that kept streaming in. Crowley huffed and scowled through the whole business as the private room they got for the angel became increasingly overstuffed by flowers and balloons and get-well-soon knick-knacks, but nonetheless stayed at his side. Crowley and his tailored black suit stood out like a sore thumb in the midst of the brightly colored things which the angel simply adored. Crowley scowled and Aziraphale pretended not to notice the sudden increase of in-hospital romances-gone-sour, switched medications and emergency buttons all going off at the same time.
Jonathan Cain Skims was sitting in a cell somewhere Aziraphale would really not want to know about.
"I recently acquired a John Calvin first edition, Christianae Religionis institutio" Mrs. Warren said, bringing Aziraphale out of his reverie, "I'm quite sure you've heard about it." She smiled, and the angel found himself liking the woman even more than he already did.
The Warrens, it turned out, was an influential family of two - Catrina and her mother Louisa. An old rich family that never had to worry about money, did charities and - to Aziraphale's pleasant surprise - had a great interest in acquiring rare books. He'd spent his first visit to the Warrens talking animatedly to Mrs. Warren, browsing their impressive collection in the private library. Catrina too was such an angel, and Aziraphale found it harder and harder not to hate John for taking advantage of such a sweet little girl - even if it is sort of a given that angels must not hate. He liked visiting often since then, and the Warrens welcomed him; Mrs. Warren loving the vast knowledge and common interests the young man brought with him. She could never have guessed how the popstar knew so much about old books.
Aziraphale smiled and finished his mooncake, "Oh my, thats just been auctioned off! Don't tell you were the one who bought it Mrs. Warren. That Calvin is --" His cellphone rang and it vibrated on the coffee table. He looked up apologetically, and Mrs. Warren waved it off.
"I'll go get some cookies. Catrina should be home any moment now." She smiled and stood up leaving Aziraphale alone. She may be old, but Louisa Warren knew she was still sharp as she had always been. She saw quickly enough that it was Mr. Crowley calling, and it took no genius to see that there was something between the two. Cute pair she thought, remembering how her late husband used to be as dogged in his pursuit of her as the Mr. Crowley was with Azira. They may not be a traditional pair to many, but never had Louisa Warren been traditional in her beliefs anyway.
Aziraphale smiled thankfully and picked up the cellphone with his good hand. "Hello, Crowley?"
"Angel, you alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Stop worrying."
There sounded like a shrug on the other line, "I'm not worrying."
Aziraphale playfully rolled his eyes and got up to stand by the window. Crowley called more often now, checking in all the time regardless the fact that Aziraphale practically didn't go anywhere without the demon knowing exactly where he was. The demon denied it as much as he called to check, but Aziraphale knew enough that what had happened shook up Crowley as much as it did him.
"Mrs. Warren's been wondering when you'd visit again." There was silence on the other line, he continued, "She says she'll break out some sherry if you come by."
"Just sherry? The woman's got to have something stronger in her bar."
"Crowley!"
There was a light chuckle, "Just kidding, angel. Hey, don't forget about those tickets."
Aziraphale nodded, "Yes, yes. Would six be alright? Theyre the best seats in the concert hall though."
"That should be enough."
"The concert tour doesn't start up til six weeks from now, though. Doctor says my shoulder should be good by then."
"They won't mind."
"So who are you giving them to?"
Crowley seemed to think this over carefully, "Uh... some fans of yours."
"Never thought you were such a philanthropist." There was silence, and Aziraphale knew instinctively that the demon was smirking. "Oh, I almost forgot, Gabe's been looking for you."
"If he's looking to thank me again, tell him the breadbaskets with thank you cards ain't cutting it."
"Oh, no, no. He's been asking if he could give your number to uh..." Aziraphale tried to remember, "Ford? I think. Modelling agency." the angel tried his best to stifle a laugh, "My CD cover caught their eye, they're thinking you have some promise."
"Sure, whatever." the demon answered with a groan in his voice, "Anyway, I'll be over to pick you up at around 6 or so. Dinner at Le Bernardin?"
"Sounds lovely." The signal broke up a bit, there was static and Aziraphale looked puzzled, "Where are you Crowley?"
"Oh, don't - " Static. "--ry about it. I'll be r--" More static, "-- there. See you."
Aziraphale looked at his phone and slowly thumbed the disconnect button. Wonder where the demon was? He was mulling it over when Catrina came running in and hugged the angel's legs.
"Mr. Angel! I knew you'd be here. We baked muffins in school today, I made some just for you and your boyfriend." She beamed up at him and Aziraphale found himself blushing furiously. Mrs. Warren smiled inwardly as she watched her daughter drag their guest into the kitchen. Azira was truly heaven-sent, like a son she's always wanted but never had.
*******
Crowley flipped close his razor-thin cellphone and dropped it into his coat pocket. These Americans loved their phones slim and flippy, and the demon was liking the country more and more. He was beginning to love their penal system too; how simple little changes here and there with the paperwork and a healthy dose of bribery could just about get you anywhere.
He stepped out of an elevator and into a dimply lit hall painted a sickly old green color lined by flourescent lights. He liked the apalling decor - how appropriate he thought. He walked with a spring in his step, past several security locks and checks then was finally escorted by a burly guard to a lone room at the end. The guard unlocked the door, rapped twice and gave Crowley a curt nod indicating that he may enter. The demon smiled, entered and closed the door behind him. There was man with a shaved head sitting at the far end, a small formica table separating them. He was facing the corner, hands cuffed together on his lap and he didn't bother to look up.
"About time you got here. My hearings in a couple of days."
"I'm afraid your lawyer can't make it today, Sskimsss."
The man practically jumped with a start when he recognized the voice and he bolted out of his chair, eyes wide. "Y - you!"
Crowley's grin could only be aptly described as demonic. "Hello Skimssss. Missed me?"
"No, no, no. You can't be here." Skims backed himself up to the corner watching with terrified eyes as Crowley made the table disappear. "Help! Help! Warden!" he began calling desperately.
The demon advanced slowly, pulling off his jacket and hanging it neatly on a chair back. "Your warden's a little preoccupied right now." he said as he rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt.
Skims desperately clawed at the wall behind him, head turned to watch the approaching form, "Please, I swear to God! I've done nothing to you."
"Oh? You dared to touch something that was mine." Crowley stretched a bit, hearing some bones in his neck pop. "Nobody has been fool enough to do that until you came along. See, Aziraphale is mine, and you sodding piece of shit dared touch him."
Realization dawned on the cornered mortal and his eyes were wide, "Oh God, no... Help me! Someone! Guard!" He began yelling with renewed strength as the demon approached closer and closer.
"No one can hear you right now, and nothing will be left of you when I'm done." Crowley said. "No one will come looking for you, no one will remember your name. And when your body expires, I have a few friends personally awaiting your arrival in Hell."
The demon finally closed the gap between them and the lights in the room went out save for one. "Then you will realize just how kind I have been. I think thats about fair, given what you've done to me. To my angel."
When Skims began screaming and pleading and tearing his throat out in agony, the guard smiled and thumbed up the volume of his new iPod; Azira's song "Beyond Redemption" blaring in his ears.
*******
Crowley's fingers played lazily through Aziraphale's blonde hair, as he pulled at the blankets. He closed his eyes for a moment and revelled in the warmth of the angel's naked body next to his. Crowley sighed in contentment. All was right now in his world, and never again would he be so careless. He shifted a bit slowly to lay his head down and bury his nose in Aziraphale's hair, careful not to wake the sleeping angel.
"Mmph..."
"Aziraphale?" he said softly, planting a soft kiss on the fair forehead.
"Thank you." came the muffled voice on his shoulder.
Crowley's raised an eyebrow, "For what?" He shifted the angel's right arm a bit when he saw that he was trying to move it to a more comfortable position.
"That," Aziraphale's raised his eyes to look up at his lover, "...and for putting up with me." he added quietly.
The demon smiled and thoughtfully adjusted the arm sling that kept the angel's healing shoulder in place. "Yup, I do put up a bit for you, you know." he said playfully.
There was a sigh that was more amused than annoyed. "A 'welcome' would have been nice, or an 'it's nothing'."
"I'll say that when you can start properly thanking me after you've healed up."
The tone cast no doubt to Crowley's meaning. Aziraphale blushed red and resorted to tracing little circles on Crowley's chest. He decided to change the subject promptly;
"Say, where did you go this afternoon? I couldn't reach your cellphone."
"Work, tying up loose ends, taking the souls of the damned." Came the quick reply, "The usual."
Aziraphale had the nagging feeling that Crowley had been up to something but didn't push it. He was feeling very sleepy, and reminded himself that he was officially on sick leave and that he was entitled to some non-thwarting for the next few weeks. "You could tell me all about it in the morning, then."
"Mmmhmmm." Crowley watched the angelic blue eyes slowly drift close and he could not help but think once again how beautiful Aziraphale was. "Angel?"
"Mmm?"
Crowley opened his mouth, but thought better of it and shook his head, "Oh, nothing. I - I'll tell you tomorrow." He watched Aziraphale's peaceful face as he pulled the covers over both of them. He can tell the angel tomorrow that his Bentley was on its way to New York, and so are the angel's beloved furniture from the old bookshop - his battered armchair, his workbench and crumbling cabinetry, the old stove, everything. Crowley thought it would be a nice surprise, easing the stress from Aziraphale's lifetime of work ahead. The bookshop in Soho will be waiting for its owner's return, Crowley had seen to that years ago, as well as his flat in Mayfair. It would all be waiting for them at the end of Azira's career, when they can come home to jolly old London.
Crowley closed his eyes and let sleep takeover; heaven can truly be anywhere you make it to be, and right now, he was in his.
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