She aimed it at his chest and fired.
11. Killer Queen
Crowley stood in the bathroom, leaning against the sink. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, his mind a whirlwind of sensations. He was acutely aware of the effects Aziraphale's kiss had on him. Crowley's senses were overwhelmed by the angel, a downpour of love. The adoration of his tongue caressing his lips, the tender caress of his fingers, and the longing in the goosebumps Aziraphale's touch left behind, the taste of him, and the warmth of his body pressed against his own.
His heart pounded in his chest with the profound realization that this was everything he had ever wanted. He had never imagined that the day would come when Aziraphale would initiate a kiss so passionate, so full of love, it left him... He let out a low, shaky chuckle, the sound tinged with amusement at his own vulnerability. "Well, angel," he'd mutter to himself, "You've certainly got it."
He took off his boots and belt, but the tight pants resisted, unable to hold on any longer and without thinking much the demon stepped inside the shower fully clothed. Crowley stood there, letting the cold water cascade over him, offering a stark contrast to the intense heat of their moment. The chill of the water brought his emotions back under control, and he couldn't help but reflect on what had just transpired. He was grappling with a mixture of desire and a hint of embarrassment.
Crowley, never one to let his guard down completely, found the situation both exhilarating and slightly unnerving, he was replaying the kiss in his mind, savouring the memory but also questioning his own reactions. After all, he was a demon, and such intense pleasures were usually reserved for humans.
Exiting the shower and realizing he had nothing to wear, he stood in the bathroom, dripping wet and glancing around at his soaked attire; Crowley cursed under his breath. "Fuck!" He couldn't possibly walk out of the bathroom naked. "Damn it!"
"Everything okay Crowley?" Aziraphale asked from behind the door.
"No!" Crowley growled, angry at himself.
"Can I help in any way my dear?" The angel offered.
Finally he mustered the courage to open the door. "Could you please give me the bag?" He pointed in its general direction trying to look dignified as he rested his back into the bathroom tiled wall with a wet sound.
Aziraphale, ever the picture of politeness, tried to hide a smile, his cheeks and lips still flustered and red, "Sure! My dear."
Crowley gratefully accepted the bag, closed the door behind him and took a moment to compose himself. He took off his wet clothes and after rinsing them, he hung them all around the bathroom.
After a well-deserved proper shower and a change of hastily chosen clothes. Crowley waltzed out of the bathroom, feeling a touch self-conscious in his black boxers and a black tank top. He was grateful to have bought them.
As Aziraphale sat on the bed, his appearance painted a vivid picture. His hair, slightly tousled from their passionate encounter, framed his angelic face, his back rested against some pillows at the headboard, and he appeared to be feigning interest in a novel, an expression of contentment playing on his lips. The soft, warm lighting in the room cast a gentle glow on his features, accentuating the way his eyes sparkled with affection.
His clothes, draped over his form in a way that seemed almost poetic. The white v-neck shirt, hugging his torso, provided a contrast to the blue boxer shorts and socks he wore. The shirt's fabric caught the soft light, emphasizing the gentle curve of his shoulders and the hint of his collarbone.
In the subdued lighting, Aziraphale's presence seemed almost otherworldly, as though he were bathed in a soft, celestial radiance. It was a sight that left Crowley, despite his recent embarrassment, utterly captivated.
Crowley was sure of one thing, he was going to miss the extra room they had in York; he could have lurked in there. The demon didn't want to talk about what happened, he was embarrassed of losing control, and the angel seemed very smug and pleased altogether. Avoiding the topic of their passionate encounter, he took refuge in a chair, attempting to look composed despite his state of undress.
Aziraphale's delighted demeanor continued to annoy Crowley. "Don't be silly, come here, my darling," the angel said, patting the empty spot on the bed beside him.
Crowley tried to maintain some semblance of his laid-back and nonchalant demeanor in the chair, but Aziraphale's invitation to join him on the bed only promised to add to his comfort. With a reluctant growl, Crowley dragged himself over, acutely aware of Aziraphale's amusement.
Seated beside the angel, Crowley found himself at a loss for what to do with his arms and legs, feeling awkward and out of place in this moment of vulnerability. Aziraphale's radiant smile, however, did help put him somewhat at ease.
"Well, angel, that was quite the heavenly kiss you delivered." Crowley replied with a touch of cynicism as he ran a hand through his wet hair, trying to regain his composure, with a husky and slightly incredulous tone he asked "Angel, where did you learn to kiss like that?"
Aziraphale met Crowley's gaze with a knowing and playful look, his eyes twinkling mischievously. He responded with a smirk, "My dear, I've had quite a few centuries to learn from the best authors." Then Aziraphale set the book aside in his lap, unable to resist teasing. "So… you liked it!" Aziraphale squealed with a playful twinkle in his eyes.
Crowley, mortified, pleaded, "Yes, hmm, can we NOT talk about it?"
Aziraphale's eyes twinkled with affection as he leaned in closer, his voice a soft whisper. "Good to know," he replied, his lips ghosting over Crowley's in a gentle, lingering kiss.
Crowley melted into the kiss, all traces of awkwardness melting away as their love for each other deepened, a silent understanding passing. Aziraphale smiled at him lovingly, and settled in Crowley's arms, the angel's head resting on his shoulder.
Crowley groaned, realizing that he was utterly defenseless against Aziraphale's charms. "You're impossible, angel," he muttered, though there was a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
Aziraphale chuckled softly, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on Crowley's arm. "Ah, but you love me for it."
Crowley sighed in resignation, leaning in to steal a quick kiss from Aziraphale. "Yeah, angel, I suppose I do."
The angel smiled at him, far too tenderly given the circumstances. "Do you ever think that the Almighty knows about us?" Aziraphale cleared his throat, his voice betraying a mixture of vulnerability.
"I don't think so." Crowley, raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his expression. "She doesn't care."
Aziraphale took a deep breath, his heart thrumming under the demons fingers like a hymn as he searched for the right words. "Do you think She made us to complement each other?"
Crowley blinked in surprise, his eyes widening slightly before he looked away, processing the unexpected revelation. "Oh," he managed, his voice unusually soft. "Surely not, mere coincidence."
"I like to think She did create you and me, to be an us." Aziraphale continued, his voice wavering slightly.
Crowley's gaze returned to Aziraphale, filled with a mixture of emotions – disbelief, hope, and a touch of fear. He swallowed hard, his voice almost a whisper. "Aziraphale, you really believe that? That we were meant to be?"
Aziraphale nodded, his eyes locked onto Crowley's with unwavering sincerity. "Yes, my dear. I believe it with all my heart."
A thoughtful silence settled between them, the weight of the revelation sinking in. Aziraphale's fingers brushed lightly against Crowley's, a gentle and affectionate touch. Crowley let out a sigh, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned into Aziraphale's touch. "Well," the demon finally said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "if that's the case, then I reckon we should make the most of it, shouldn't we?"
Miniel, remained seated in a bank in Port Meadow Park in Oxford, she had been there the whole night. Still perched on the bench she impatiently waited, her senses attuned to the vibrations of love resonating from Crowley and Aziraphale. The waves of affection surged through the air, like ripples across a tranquil pond, the very love she had been tasked to destroy, drawing far from her with every passing moment.
They were on the move again. She couldn't ignore the urgency that gnawed at her being, the fear that the Metatron's screaming had stilled in her still rattling her bones. Without hesitation, she initiated her teleportation, each leap taking her closer to the source of that affection.
One moment, she found herself on a cobbled street of Oxford, where academia and history intermingled in a timeless dance. The next, she materialized on a bustling bridge, adorned with elegant arches and intricate stonework. The love was there, close but elusive.
Miniel continued her rapid teleportation, her celestial form shimmering as she traversed space and time. Yet, despite her best efforts, she couldn't quite pinpoint the precise location of Crowley and Aziraphale. Their love teased her, dancing just beyond her grasp.
Frustration gnawed at Miniel's heart, she arrived in a small village nestled in the picturesque countryside. The aura of love in this place was overwhelming, smothering her senses. It was a love that emanated from every corner – from the quaint cottages with their blooming gardens to the laughter of children playing in the streets.
Miniel couldn't help but be dazzled by the overwhelming affection that enveloped the village, the cherub found herself lost. Miniel's frustration grew as she realized that she couldn't pinpoint the exact location of Aziraphale and Crowley.
She teleported again and again, trying to narrow down their location, but each attempt proved futile. The love was everywhere, and it seemed to mock her, taunting her with its unattainable perfection. It was as if the universe itself conspired to shield the love between Aziraphale and Crowley from her destructive mission.
Feeling increasingly desperate, Miniel teleported herself outside the village, frustration and anger bubbling within her. She knew that she couldn't find them here. She needed to bide her time, wait for the moment when they would leave this place of love and venture into a less protected territory. The urgency intensified, the knowledge that time was slipping away adding to her anxiety, the image of the Metatron wrath looming over her.
Miniel couldn't express her exasperation as a human would, but it was no less real. She was tasked to protect the love that meant so much to the Almighty, and yet, she yearned it for herself. Love always seemed to slip through her grasp like sand through an hourglass.
As she stood on the outskirts of the village, her gaze locked on the quaint cottages and picturesque scenery, Miniel's envious heart burned with determination. She would not be thwarted by their love, no matter how powerful it seemed. She would find the opportune moment to strike and fulfil her dark purpose, no matter what it took.
And maybe she could twist her infamous deed to take for her some of that unholy love they hoarded for each other. Maybe in that scenario she would be loved.
With unwavering resolve, Miniel watched and waited, knowing that her chance to destroy the love of Aziraphale and Crowley would come, and when it did, she would seize it with all the darkness that dwelled within her celestial being.
Crowley's sleek Bentley sliced through the quaint streets of Tadfield, drawing them nearer to their destination with every passing moment. The years may have blurred some details, but the memories remained as vivid as ever, the small city was still very much loved. The aura of love permeating every being and building, the village was like a living postcard, each corner adorned with bursts of color from well-tended flower gardens that spilled over white picket fences.
As they approached the Young's house, Aziraphale noticed Mr. Young, Adam's father, meticulously tending to his vintage car. The man's devotion to his automobile was unmistakable, and Aziraphale's appreciation for such dedication shone through in his polite smile. He couldn't help but imagine Crowley doting over the Bentley parked outside their own little house.
Crowley, ever the master of composure in any situation, lowered the window glass and put on his best amicable grin. "Hello there," he greeted with the friendly tone he reserved for the humans he liked. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as he admired the vintage car. "What a lovely Morris Minor you've got here."
Mr. Young's face lit up with pride and gratitude at the compliment. "Oh, thank you! She's my pride and joy. I've had her for years." He couldn't help but reciprocate the admiration, his eyes drifting to Crowley's Bentley. "Your car looks great too, almost brand new!"
Aziraphale, chimed in with a genuine smile. "Indeed, she's a beauty."
"And I must say," added Crowley, "had it from new—ninety years and not a scratch."
Mr. Young's eyes widened in awe, his admiration for the Bentley evident. "Ninety years, you say? That's remarkable. These old cars, they really stand the test of time."
Regretfully, Aziraphale knew it was time to steer the conversation in a different direction, though he savored the fleeting sense of normalcy amidst the impending chaos. "Might I inquire about your son, Adam? We were hoping to have a word with him."
Mr. Young's demeanor shifted slightly, his posture straightening as a hint of concern crept into his expression. "Is Adam in trouble?"
Crowley, sighed audibly and waved his hand in a somewhat impatient gesture, interrupting the polite exchange with a miracle. "Never mind the pleasantries. Where's Adam?"
Mr. Young tensed up, his back straightening even more, and his gaze lost in thought. His voice, when it finally came, was subdued and distant. "Adam... Royal College of Veterinary. Hatfield."
"We weren't supposed to use miracles." Aziraphale warned Crowley, a tad preoccupied.
Crowley turned to him with a sly smirk, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "We're leaving this place anyway, angel."
Aziraphale offered a polite nod of gratitude to the man. "Thank you very much, Mr. Young. We appreciate your help."
As Crowley hit the accelerator, speeding toward their new destination, Aziraphale couldn't help but chastise the demon, though his words held a hint of affectionate reproach. "You know, my dear, there was really no need to resort to hypnotizing, being polite could have saved us the trouble."
Crowley, his focus on the road ahead, offered a nonchalant shrug. "Eh, I didn't mess with the man's head too much. Besides, he's got enough to worry about with Armageddon hanging over him."
Aziraphale sighed, his gaze softening as he looked at his beloved demon. "I suppose you're right, dear. Let's just hope we find Adam in time."
Aziraphale's thoughts drifted to a hopeful future as he gazed out at the passing countryside. He spoke softly, allowing his dreams to fill the space between them. "You know, my dear, once all of this is over, I've been thinking..."
Crowley, curious about Aziraphale's musings, raised an eyebrow. "Thinking about what, angel?"
Aziraphale's gaze rested on Crowley, as he let his hope do the talking. "I was thinking that perhaps we could find a beautiful countryside cottage, a place where we can live peacefully… together."
Crowley's features softened as he glanced at Aziraphale. "You mean...like a forever-after kind of thing?"
Aziraphale nodded, a serene smile gracing his features. "Precisely, my dear. A place where we can enjoy the simple pleasures of life, free from the burdens of Heaven and Hell, just us."
The demon's lips curled into a genuine smile, his love shining through. "Sounds like a plan, angel."
As they continued their journey, leaving Tadfield behind, Aziraphale allowed himself to daydream of a quaint village with an ageless charm, one that seemed to defy the relentless march of time.
As Crowley and Aziraphale arrived at the College campus, the scent of freshly mowed grass wafted through the air, mingling with the heady aroma of blooming flowers. The sun bathed the campus in a warm, golden hue, casting dappled shadows beneath ancient oaks that lined the pathways. The distant chatter of students carried on the breeze, punctuated by the occasional laughter and the gentle rustling of pages turning in open books.
They waited for him to come out of any of the buildings. Crowley was resting against the Bentley, parked in the small plaza in front of the main building.
"Do you think we will recognize him?" Aziraphale asked, holding the bag that contained the Book of Life against his chest, and looking around nervously.
Crowley was tense, observing the surroundings as students passed by glancing curious looks to the car. "He will be the only Antichrist."
As if on cue a very recognizable Adam exited the building, brown hair shorter, same curious eyes, and a small group of friends around him.
"Look my dear, here he is!" Aziraphale waved at him, smiling.
One of the girls of the group noticed the angel, and surely the whole group looked their way, Crowley raised a hand and propped himself up from the car as a greeting.
Adam Young approached Aziraphale and Crowley with a cautious curiosity, his expression giving away a mix of recognition and scepticism. There was a hint of a smile, a familiar warmth, but it was also clear that he had moved on from the unusual events of his childhood.
"Hey," Adam greeted them, his tone friendly but not overly enthusiastic. He glanced at the bag Aziraphale held but didn't inquire about it. "What brings you two here?"
Aziraphale took a deep breath, his tone betraying that he feared that the conversation couldn't go as smoothly as he hoped. "Adam, my boy, it's been some time. We find ourselves in need of your help, you see. The Second Coming is drawing near, we need help with the Book of Life, and the world could use your extraordinary abilities once more."
"If you still have them." Crowley added trying to pique the boy's interest.
Adam's smile faded, replaced by a resolute determination. "I appreciate what you're asking, really, but I've made a choice. I want a normal life. I'm studying to be a veterinarian, and I plan to settle down in Tadfield. I've had enough of all that nonsense." His words were firm, the words of a man whom wishes were rarely ignored.
"So… you still have your powers." Crowley said as he gauged Adam looking for a way to appeal to him. With a sly grin and a certain charm that only Crowley could muster, he leaned in slightly, keeping his tone conversational. "You know, Adam, it's not just about the 'nonsense' as you rightly put it," Crowley began, his voice carrying a hint of persuasive warmth. "It's about doing what's right, and you've always had a knack for that. Think about it."
Crowley saw Aziraphale smile as the boy dismissed his friends with a nod. The demon was great at tempting. He used this cue to continue. "You see, dear boy, there's a rather delicate situation brewing… It's what they call the 'Second Coming.' A momentous event."
Adam, curious, leaned in a bit closer. "Second Coming? What's that all about then?"
Crowley, interjected with his characteristic nonchalance, "The Second Coming is when, uh…" He chose his words carefully. "Let's just say it means the end of the world as we know it. Chaos, destruction, and all that unpleasantness."
"But with your unique abilities, my dear Adam, we might just be able to make sure it doesn't come to that." Aziraphale interrupted, fairly too adamant.
Adam clearly considered this newfound information, his curiosity battling with his desire for a normal life. Crowley could feel the weight of responsibility hanging in the air as he mulled over the decision before responding.
"I've been feeling changes lately." He looked back at where his group of friends once stood. "I may want to help."
Aziraphale took out the Book of Life, holding it in front of Adam who took it curiously.
"You see, this is the Book of Life, we need help to restore it." Aziraphale excited rant made the boy close the book. "There's a powerful angel, well, the Metatron, is much more than an angel. He made some changes to the Book, to tip the scales in Heaven's favour. If you would be so kind to help here…"
Adam pushed the book back towards Aziraphale, his face a deadpan of weariness, "I'm not going to help either side, this is on you."
Crowley closed his eyes in exasperation. "This isn't just about heavenly or demonic affairs. It's about humanity, about keeping the balance, and ensuring that the world keeps turning as it should."
He paused for a moment, letting that idea settle in. "Besides," he continued, "you've got a unique talent, something special. Using it for this doesn't have to mean sacrificing your normal life. It just meant the Metatron would be out of the picture and there will be no Second Coming."
Crowley maintained his clever, knowing look, confident in his ability to tempt Adam with a compelling mix of moral responsibility and the promise of a normal life.
The boy took back the Book. "So what should I do?"
"Not much, just erase the black line over the word 'Phanuel'" Aziraphale gently flipped the pages until Phanuel's name was there. "Here, easy."
"Easy? Why don't you do it, I've seen your powers too." Adam said looking at Crowley straight in the eyes, despite his glasses.
"Because I can't." Crowley stated, and somehow it was true, he, alone couldn't.
Adam waved his hand over the Book of Life, and a tendril of inky black smoke snaked its way toward the sky. Aziraphale watched in awe as the name "Phanuel" appeared untouched, with no marks crossing it. A distant rumble of thunder accompanied a flash of lightning, illuminating the sky above them acknowledging the significance of this moment.
Aziraphale couldn't contain his gratitude as he shook Adam's hand, a genuine smile gracing his lips. "Thank you, Adam. You've done a tremendous thing today. We're truly grateful."
"Now I hope you two could promise not to…" Adam began to speak, but his words faltered. His gaze shifted behind them, and Crowley followed his line of sight. "That woman just appeared from thin air."
The situation escalated with alarming speed. Crowley, spun around and, to his shock, saw the woman—Maggie—smiling wickedly, a bow and arrow aimed squarely at Aziraphale's back.
In that split second, Crowley's instincts took over. With a lightning-quick movement, he pushed Aziraphale out of harm's way just in the nick of time. Aziraphale stumbled forward, as the demon's body protected him. Crowley's heart racing as he turned to see the arrow vanish into golden smoke, its target missed.
Crowley felt his anger creep inside him, pumping through his veins, he didn't waste a moment, not even to put his glasses back on. He got to his feet, fire burning under his skin, his strides long and determined as he approached Maggie, who was readying a second arrow with an expression of cruel intent.
She aimed it at his chest and fired.
He extended his hand, fingers splayed, and a wave of supernatural power emanated from his palm, casting a rippling distortion through the air. The bustling campus square froze in mid-movement around Crowley at his whim.
People mid-step became statues, birds hung motionless in the sky, and the world turned monochrome, bathed in an ethereal, frozen light. The only thing Crowley could hear was Aziraphale screaming in slow motion his name at the top of his lungs, his voice strained with anguish.
The world may have been held in suspension, but his own heart thundered within him. In this frozen moment, he would protect Aziraphale above all else, consequences be damned. Crowley reached out, plucking the arrow out of the air with a deft motion, when it was just a few inches from hitting his chest, his movements smooth and controlled as he maintained his pace so Maggie wouldn't know about his time trick. He sent the arrow away harmlessly into the distance where it disintegrated into golden sparks. As he did so, color and sound rushed back into the world in a sudden, exhilarating cacophony.
Maggie's eyes widened in disbelief as her arrow was snatched and disintegrated into thin air.
In an instant, it ended. Crowley surged forward, lightning coursing through his veins, his hand raised high, fingers extended like a conductor before an orchestra. The raw power, a tempestuous blend of anger and determination, surged from his very core, manifesting as a searing, crimson bolt of energy.
Before the red lightning could even graze Maggie, she vanished into thin air, leaving behind a crowd of astonished onlookers with mouths agape at the bewildering sight they had just witnessed.
Crowley couldn't help but seethe with anger as he watched Maggie vanish into thin air. He clenched fists at the gut-wrenching feeling, knowing that the threat had slipped through his fingers, leaving behind nothing but a cloud of frustration.
Aziraphale approached him, clearly relieved but unaware of the bubbling rage beneath the demon's surface. "My dear", the angel spun him around, feeling his torso with both hands in search of a wound that was not there. "Are you hurt?"
The demon sighed with an air of annoyance "I'm fine," Crowley's focus shifted entirely to the angel by his side. Relief flooded his senses, washing away the lingering tension of the encounter. "Angel, I'm fine, I stopped time." He said taking the angel's hands in his.
"Oh. My dear!" Aziraphale exclaimed, as their gaze meet, and Crowley could see how admiration replaced the anguish. "You saved me once again!"
Crowley and Aziraphale returned to Adam's side, the demon steps heavy with annoyance, as he shot a dark look in the direction where Maggie had once stood.
Adam, clearly perturbed by the sudden interruption to his normal life, made an impatient gesture. The spectators around them resumed their activities, completely oblivious to the supernatural confrontation that had just taken place. It was as if nothing unusual had occurred.
Adam turned to Aziraphale and Crowley, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. "Look, I want to live a normal life. I don't want to be involved in all this Heaven and Hell business anymore. Please, just leave me be."
Aziraphale, ever understanding, nodded in agreement with Adam's wishes. "Of course, Adam. Thank you for your help today."
Crowley, though his irritation simmered beneath the surface, managed a tight smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, thanks, kid. You saved our hides."
With those words, Aziraphale and Crowley turned away, leaving Adam to his studies and his aspirations for a quiet, ordinary life. They had achieved their goal, but the bitterness of Maggie's escape lingered in Crowley's thoughts.
While they were getting in the car, the memory of the Maggie with the bow and arrow served Crowley as a reminder of the dangers that always seemed to trail behind them, an unsettling presence in their otherwise unpredictable existence.
He turned on the car and let Freddy's voice fill the silence of the small space, while his thoughts returned to the moment when he had seen the arrow heading inexorably towards Aziraphale.
She's a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, gelatine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime
They had gone a few meters from the College when he stopped the car on the side of the road. His arms enveloped Aziraphale, pulling him close, and the angel melted into his embrace with a contented sigh. Their bodies pressed together, fitting like two pieces of a perfect puzzle.
The touch was grounding, reassuring. Crowley's fingers lightly traced patterns on Aziraphale's back, a tactile reminder that they were here, together, safe. His cheek rested against the soft strands of Aziraphale's hair, his breath catching as he took in the familiar scent of books, leather, and a hint of celestial warmth.
They lingered in the embrace, as if time had ceased to matter, and all that existed in that moment was the two of them, sharing a profound connection.
Crowley could feel the steady rise and fall of Aziraphale's chest against his own, a soothing cadence that matched the unspoken emotions coursing through them. He tightened his hold, as if trying to draw Aziraphale impossibly closer, to reassure himself that this was real, that they were safe, and that they would always find their way back to each other.
No words were exchanged, for none were needed.