A/N: I currently have 31 chapters plotted for this fic, but that number is likely to increase and is subject to change at my slightest whim. Some will be longer, some will be shorter. Some will be interpretations of scenes from the show, like this one, and some will be entirely my own invention. Throughout, any dialogue you recognize as being from the show is, indeed, from the show, and is gratefully borrowed. All hail Gaiman! I will update tags/rating/warnings/etc. as needed depending on exactly what ends up coming out of my brain each chapter. Enjoy!
It was a nice day. If you can call it that, because of course days hadn't been invented yet. It was before the Beginning, at the very start of the Great Plan, and angels were industriously buzzing about the almost-universe, ensuring that their various departments stayed on schedule. One such angel had just fluttered to a stop in the midst of the blackness and flickering synapses that were the Almighty's unformed Creation. This particular angel's department was Celestial Matter, which was quite a large department, and he(1) was the head of it. Working in collaboration with God's plan, of course, but he had been able to exercise a great deal of creative license over the various celestial bodies and electromagnetic waves and such which were about to be unleashed. If only he could get the thing to work, the angel thought as he flapped his scroll about, trying to get it to unroll fully whilst holding the crank in his other hand. A bright gleam caught his eye just then, and he looked up.
"Excuse me!" the angel called. There was no response and, not wanting to let the chance slip away, he raised his voice and shouter. "Oi!"
The gleam turned and sped towards him, becoming larger and brighter in an instant, until another angel appeared at his side.
"Yes? Was that you?" Aziraphale asked politely, though he(2) hovered with slight uncertainty. The angel who had shouted at him was looking slightly harried, or perhaps that was just the untamed nature of his bright curls?
"Oh, hi, yeah. Err, look, if you don't mind, could you hold this, while I crank it up?" The redheaded angel asked, impatient to get to his task. Aziraphale took the scroll, blinking.
"Erm," he said, looking down at the scroll, which seemed entirely too small for all of the energy he could feel emanating from it, "which way up does it go?" His eyes flicked back up to the other angel, studying him quizzically as he gave instructions, his own mouth offering replies quite separate from what his mind was doing. Aziraphale knew that this particular angel was a capital-A Archangel, but he wasn't acting like it at all. For one thing, he hadn't even introduced himself. The crank finished winding up, and the redheaded angel turned away, looking unbelievably excited about whatever was about to happen.
"Erm," Aziraphale said again, "Hello!" This did not produce the reaction he had anticipated, that is, any kind of response whatsoever, so he went on. "I'm Aziraphale."
"Nice meeting you," the angel responded, "Okay, here goes," he shook back his sleeves, and looked about in anticipation as he intoned ceremoniously, "Let there be matter, let there be gravity, let there be everything from pages eleven to three million six-hundred and two inclusive!" In the silence that followed, he wondered briefly if it was just taking a moment because he had invoked all three million five-hundred and ninety-one pages at once, and it was as the blond cherub behind him spoke hesitantly that he realized his mistake.
"Is something meant to happen?"
"Oh right! Sorry, yes yes, I knew I'd missed one," The angel raised his hand and lightly drew his fingers downward, almost whispering the final ingredient to his masterpiece, "Let there be light."
An explosion rocked the void in which the angels hovered (quite a big bang, one might say), silent and awful and wonderful. The redheaded angel cheered and squealed his delight, and grinning wildly as all of the things he had planned and imagined and dreamed sprang forth into being, more glorious and perfect than he could ever have believed possible. "Look at you!" he said in wonder and pride, "You're gorgeous!"
Aziraphale, meanwhile, had been torn between watching the stunning universe unfold before him, and gazing awestruck at the angel beside him. There was a magnetism about him— it had been there to begin with, but as all the brand-new wonders burst from the scroll it increased, a palpable joy that dared its onlooker to blink. Aziraphale managed to tear his eyes away for just a moment before the angel spoke again, and he flushed, glancing back at the other quickly with a smile. Sure, he had been struck by the Archangel, but he hadn't been under the impression that he had much noticed—
"Oh," Aziraphale said, quickly looking back out at the expanding universe as he realized his error, casting about for something interesting to say, "You made it all yourself?" The redheaded angel waffled self-deprecatingly, and Aziraphale plied him with compliments until they both laughed together, looking out over the newborn universe, all swirly and bright with color. Both out of curiosity and to be polite, he asked what it was all for, which launched the other angel into an energetic explanation of his star factory. It was during this that it occurred to Aziraphale that the gleeful angel beside him just might not know about the projected universal timeline. "You know," he said tentatively, wanting to break the news gently, "the current word from upstairs is that we'll be shutting all this down again in about six thousand years."
"But that's nothing!" the redheaded angel cried, his wings slumping in utter disbelief, "Ohhh… what's the point in creating an infinite universe with trillions of star systems if you're only going to let it run for a few thousand years?" he shook his head, gazing at the stars and planets and infinite celestial variety he had formed with tender care, "The engine won't even have properly warmed up by then." He receded into disappointed silence as Aziraphale explained about people, whatever those were, and how all the stars and other things were actually for them to look up at and admire.
"But that's idiocy!" he spluttered, aghast at the thought of all the celestial glory now in Existence being nothing but a bit of decoration. He said as much to the cherub beside him, venting his spleen with much gesturing of arms and raising of voice. It might have come out as part of a rant, but he thought the bit about putting Earth in the middle so the people could at least see better was rather a good idea. His companion, on the other hand, seemed quite unnerved by the idea.
"It's not our job to advise the Almighty on the details of creation," Aziraphale said a bit mincingly, startled by the lack of propriety in the redheaded angel's suggestion. But the idea of suggesting things seemed to have stuck with him, for before Aziraphale knew it he was proposing to put a note in the suggestion box about it, and which he himself had to interject- "I don't believe the Almighty has actually created a suggestion box… and furthermore, I don't think it's our place to start suggesting that there should be a suggestion box!" This was getting more awkward by the minute. Aziraphale had never much been one to ask questions, happy to putter about his work efficiently and with satisfaction. Now this angel —Archangel, he reminded himself— was talking about questioning the Almighty herself with a casualness that made him irrationally nervous.
"I like the pinky-blue bit in the corner of the, the nebula! Yes, it's very, erm- ah-," Aziraphale tripped over his own tongue, and gulped once or twice, before going on in a lowered voice. "Erm, but look, word to the wise, I'd hate to see you getting into any trouble." But the redheaded angel was clearly far away in thought, nodding perfunctorily as he replied,
"Mmm, thanks for your help. And, thanks for your advice," he looked over at Aziraphale, smiling slightly, "I wouldn't worry though. How much trouble can I get into just for asking a few questions?"
Before either angel could say anything further, a shower of glowing objects started to rain down upon them, resembling what would later be known as meteor showers. But these were not meteors: automatically, the redheaded angel lifted his wing to shelter Aziraphale, just in time for a pair of infant stars to bounce off it and careen away to find their places in the universe. Together they watched the starfall, both lost in rapture at the beauty before them. The Archangel forgot his disappointment and sadness, and the stars' reflections glittered gold in his dark eyes. Aziraphale wishes silently that the other might get his wish, for truly the view from here was magnificent. And if it were this wonderful now, how marvelous might it be when the people were around to see it? He allowed himself to be consumed by the joy buffeting him from the owner of the wing under which he was made safe.
Neither angel knew quite how long it had been when the starfall ceased, but at the same instant they realized it had done so. The redheaded angel lowered his wing with slight embarrassment, as though he had forgotten it was up in the first place. Aziraphale muttered his thanks in reciprocal secondhand slight embarrassment, and exclaimed that he simply must be on his way, before he was missed. With a final bob of his head, he zoomed back the way he had come.
The redheaded angel watched the blond one disappear, and chuckled to himself. He turned back to look out over the expanding celestial matter he had unleashed, and sighed contentedly. It really was a work well done. But, just there— there was something missing! Beyond a couple of swirling, smoking pillars of which he was particularly proud, there was a bit that seemed emptier than it should be. His brows furrowed, and he shook his head. That simply wouldn't do. He retrieved the scroll from where it had been hovering expectantly, and thought for a moment. He really wasn't sure how he had missed that spot out, but now what to fill it with? Ah, yes! One of his favorite shapes, that somehow hadn't been featured yet. The angel licked his finger, and with a spark sketched out the shape of a helix on the scroll. A nebula, definitely, he loved a good nebula. But how to color it? He studied the shape for a moment, a considered that it quite looked like an eye. Then the idea hit him, and giggling silently, he filled in the colors. With an extremely self-satisfied gesture, he sent the new nebula spinning off into space to fill its gap.
Sometime, he really must tell the helpful cherub how the brightness of his blue eyes had come to glimmer in the Heavens.
(1) For convenience, we shall use this pronoun to refer to this angel, being omnipotent and knowing that at a later time, after time is invented, it will be the one he will primarily use. Subject to change.
(2) See above.