A/N: Hello, my beautiful ducks.
Island of Capri, 1200 AD
There was a time, after Job, when Crowley had made the angel Aziraphale his pet project. Not in a derogatory sort of way, though he did take a certain amount of pleasure in the idea he could and did tempt an angel—whether that angel admitted it or not. For a good few hundred years, Crowley almost thought of Aziraphale as a protégé. After watching him glut himself on a side of ox, Crowley had introduced him to a wide array of foodstuffs, including a new invention he'd been working on at the time—dessert.
"This must be a sin," Aziraphale had said with a sigh, his eyes rolled back in his head at first taste.
"Well, not yet," Crowley had teased and had the supreme satisfaction of Aziraphale's indignant panic.
It had taken him a good thousand years to get Aziraphale to try wine, but after that, well … He'd caught up quickly, hadn't he?
But more than that, he had been there when Aziraphale had questions. He didn't always have answers, but he could be there for the questions. He could walk beside him or sit across from him, debating morals and the nature and will of God.
Crowley had been cast out of Heaven for asking questions, but it wasn't as though Satan, Beelzebub and the rest were interested in philosophizing either. Questioning the Prince of Hell was a good way to find yourself in the deepest pit for a century or two. And they certainly couldn't be asked to see the nuance of a situation.
Like how he could enjoy the company of an angel.
And he did enjoy Aziraphale's company. The angel made it easy to forget they were destined to face each other on the battlefield. No, he wasn't supposed to like spending time with an angel, and when he started to forget that, the bone-deep fear of what they were doing—not just The Arrangement but the partaking of each other's company—struck him as though like lightning. He would try to stay away for a time, but then they would cross paths again, or he would hear of some tremendous miracle and have to see if it was indeed Aziraphale. And the angel would disarm his defenses. He would grin with real joy at the sight of him, greeting him as an old friend without the contempt of an angel for a demon.
But Aziraphale too had his moments. Like now when he'd hidden himself away where Crowley dared not tread.
Or rather, some other demon who wasn't Crowley wouldn't have bothered, but they weren't him.
"You know, angel, if you wanted to keep me away, you have to remember I was a snake. And I have somewhat of an affinity for trees."
Below him, Aziraphale jumped to his feet. He had looked so serene just a moment before, tending to his garden plot. Now, he looked sharply to and fro before he finally looked up, spotting Crowley perched in the tree that stretched into the monastery garden.
And there was that pleased grin. "Crowley." He sounded so fond. Then, he cocked his head. "How do you mean? Why would I be trying to keep you away?" He blinked. "You're not here on some ill-advised assignment, surely."
"No, no," Crowley said easily. He propped his feet up on the branch and rested his back against the sturdy trunk, hands propped behind his head. "Nothing needs to be set awry today."
"Good. That's good to hear. I'm on a sort of vacation, I suppose. I would hate to have to spoil my rest to thwart you."
Crowley smirked. "When have you actually thwarted me, angel? Do you actually think you could thwart me without my help?"
Letting the angel win every once in a while was part of the arrangement. The more effective Aziraphale was at subduing the demon's threats, the greater chance his head office would leave him alone.
Aziraphale's mouth pressed into a thin line and raised his chin. "Don't underestimate me, Crowley. Should the need arise, you would find me a more than capable foe." His features softened. "But I can't imagine you actually doing something that would necessitate my intervention. You're far too good—"
"Bite your tongue," Crowley hissed, meaning it. "I am not good, angel. I serve Satan himself. Your God saw to that. There may come a time when I have no choice but to obey the will of my master."
Aziraphale had that look on his face: part whipped puppy and part … well … righteous angel of the Lord. When he spoke, his tone was heavy with intent. "Should that time come, Crowley, I …" His features pinched. "Oh. Please, let's not fight today. I'm on vacation."
Crowley breathed out the last of his annoyance. He found it hard to argue when Aziraphale made that little pout as he was then. "You're right."
"Good. Now why don't you come down from there so we can talk properly?"
At that, Crowley let his grin spread wide across his face. "Oi, you're going to have to do a lot better than that if you want to catch me. I'm not falling for that one."
Aziraphale tilted his head in confusion. Then, his eyes went wide with realization. "Oh. Consecrated ground. Oh, I am sorry." Sinking to his knees on the dirt, he hurriedly began putting his tools away, rolling them up in cloth. "I'll meet you outside the gates presently."
Some minutes later, they strolled along the dirt path. Crowley paused as they reached a high point and looked out over the sea. "I can't say living among the monks is what I'd call a vacation, but you can't beat the view, eh?"
When Aziraphale didn't answer, he turned to see that the angel looked troubled. "It's been … Well. These Crusades haven't been the easiest time for me." He pursed his lips as he considered. "It seems like it should be easier to work when humans are trying to be righteous, but it's quite the opposite."
"Never would have guessed," Crowley said, mostly to himself. Aziraphale was such a clever being, and yet, he didn't catch the irony in his own words. "I tempted a Templar Knight a few years ago."
Aziraphale's eyes popped wide. "A Templar Knight? Really? The mosupposest righteous of them all?" He sighed, shaking his head. "But that makes sense. I had heard rumors of some quite nasty stuff."
"They are just men, after all."
"So. What did you tempt them to? Stealing from the pilgrims? The desecration of a holy relic?"
Crowley's lip twitched. "I made him swear."
"You what?'
"They can't swear. Did you know that? It's good to let all that bottled-up up emotion out once in a while."
Aziraphale smiled, wide and full of teeth. "You make someone want to curse? I can scarcely imagine it."
"So," Crowley said as they walked on. "You needed a break from doing the Lord's work, eh? I didn't know that was possible for an angel."
"If I were to be sent on assignment, it would be no hardship to go. But it is nice to think about other, simpler things for a time. It's been refreshing to be here with the monks. Their devotion to God and goodness is so pure. So simple."
"When they're not trying to convert the locals, anyway. Get into some nasty stuff there," Crowley said.
"Yes, well. That's why Capri is ideal, isn't it? No locals to speak of. There are no conflicts here, moral or otherwise."
"But I can't imagine that monks make good buddies for a night out on the town."
"I came here to read, thank you. They keep a most excellent library." Aziraphale sighed—a sound of complete contentment. "But, you know, they're very proud of their vineyard. And with good reason."
Crowley pulled to a stop. "You have access to good wine and you didn't share?"
"In due time. There's something I'd like to show you."
"Oh?" Crowley had thought they were just taking a stroll.
Aziraphale looked up at the sun's position in the sky. He rearranged his robes, hoisting them a bit to make sure his feet had free range. "Yes, but best we step lightly. We don't want high tide to sneak up on us."
It took them the better part of an hour to get across the island. As they walked, Crowley was mostly quiet. Aziraphale got so excited when he spoke of his books. He'd set aside the holy texts in favor of reading up on the latest scientific theories. Crowley was particularly interested in the advances being made in machinery.
It was always interesting to observe the progression of human ingenuity. Crowley had some ideas as to how to use human inventions to his advantage. Some of these tools offered just as much cause for evil as good. It took a little finesse, but putting a lot of a small amount of bad out into the world was how he kept his bosses happy and out of his business.
"Ah, here we are." They'd reached the beach at that point. Aziraphale gave a friendly wave to the fishermen who worked there but hurried on, coming to a stop by a rowboat pulled onto the sand.
Crowley gaped. "You're taking me on a boat ride?"
"We are on an island. One does tend to run out of land," Aziraphale said dryly. "Be a dear and help me get this into the water.
Together, they set the boat in the water and climbed in, facing each other. Crowley was highly amused when Aziraphale had to row them out of sight of the humans. He lay back, watching the flex of his arms beneath his robes. Crowley trailed his fingers in the clear water of the calm sea.
When they were far enough away, a small miracle propelled the boat, leaving them free to enjoy the mist on their faces. Aziraphale shook his sodden sandals off, and when he put his foot back down, it rested against Crowley's.
It always struck him how easily Aziraphale touched him. When he'd had occasion to be in the same place as other angels who knew what he was, they'd always acted as though merely being in the same room with him made them sick. Yet here Aziraphale was, not only touching him with ease but going to some lengths to share something he enjoyed.
Some minutes later, Aziraphale directed the boat closer to the cliff side. He was surprisingly skilled, maneuvering the clumsy row boat with apparent ease. Crowley couldn't figure where they were going until he saw the mouth of a cave.
It was a very small mouth.
"Angel … you're not …"
"Sit on the bottom of the boat," Aziraphale said. "I'm going to sit on the board. Stretch your legs out because you've got to duck all the way down so I can duck down."
"Are you mad?" Crowley was still staring at the entrance—the way the waves made the gap even smaller.
Aziraphale grinned. "Are you scared?"
"No," Crowley said sharply. "Why would I be? I love being dashed against the rocks. You're going to take your head off."
Aziraphale's smile only grew more maddeningly gentle. "Trust me," he said.
And Crowley sighed. It took some doing, but finally, he was situated on the floor of the boat with Aziraphale above him. Only the thin board of the seat separated the angel's bottom from Crowley's lap.
Now that they were even closer, Crowley could see there was some kind of chain attached to the top of the hole. His stomach twisted, realizing what was meant to happen. Aziraphale would have to pull them through the entrance—because that was how close the top of the cave was. They could literally touch it. "Lie all the way back. All the way," Aziraphale commanded.
Crowley did. And so did the angel. He lay back so far he all but rested against Crowley's chest.
It was Crowley who swore then as a particularly strong wave brought the rock above them into intimate detail. Aziraphale's body pressed tight against his, and Crowley reached out instinctually, a hand at his waist.
And then, they were through. Aziraphale sat up. Slowly, Crowley did too.
It was much bigger on the inside than the cave entrance would have him believe. It was a wide, round space—a grotto that should have been pitch black.
But it wasn't. Instead, the water seemed to glow a shade of vibrant, deep blue. Crowley knew it was the way the sun reflected on the water—there was likely a bigger opening under the water that let light in from the bottom—but it looked like it was the sea that lit the cave.
"Oh," he said, and the word reverberated around them.
"Isn't it a wonder?"
Crowley knew without looking the way Aziraphale's eyes were lit up—wide and bright with wonder. He stood carefully, pushing himself up off the bottom of the boat and sitting beside the angel as he looked around.
"It's all right enough," he said just to bother him.
Aziraphale glanced at him with a knowing expression and only shook his head. "I don't know that I'll ever tire of finding these little surprises. She made us a wonderful world full of beauty, didn't She?"
He'd swept his hand out as he spoke, and when he put it down, it fell oh so lightly over Crowley's. The space between them was limited; it seemed an accident, but Crowley was fixated for a moment anyhow. "She made it for them," he murmured absently.
He had the strangest urge to flip his hand over—perhaps twine their fingers together.
"Well, here we are anyway." Aziraphale turned to him, his smile soft.
Crowley absolutely couldn't help but smile back. "Here we are."