The Serpent King

by fluffy_miracle

Summary:

Aziraphale takes in one of the people his Queen has conquered... the servant that survived the assassination of his king, Crowley. Crowley comes to the capital with the mission to avenge his king. At least, once he regains his strength and his spirit. His journey into the heart of enemy territory came with deep hurts and vicious memories that threaten to fail his mission at every turn. Aziraphale is a pleasant surprise, a soft place to land, and the two of them are drawn to each other despite the secrets that they both harbor.

Can Aziraphale and Crowley learn to come together and be each other's healing or will they remain enemies and be each other's downfall?

Chapter 1: The Assassination of the Serpent King

A man crept along the shadows, heading towards the castle keep. He was quiet. So quiet that the many guards did not even look up as he passed. He climbed up the side of the castle very carefully, scaling the wall farthest from the light of the moon, and climbed into the nearest window. He glanced around the ornately decorated room, running a gloved finger over the nearest golden object. The Serpent King was known for his love of gold and even this smaller room had been spared no expense.

Paid by the wars he’d waged and the lands he’d conquered. The people he’d trampled underneath his heavy feet.

But now his time had come. He would face Death as so many had when faced with his armies and his banner. That cursed red and golden serpent waving over the shining weapons of his massive armies.

As the saying went, however, cut off the head…

Tomorrow, a new ruler would grace these lands. A Queen. And the lands would welcome her and be grateful. But only if he achieved his mission tonight.

He slipped down the hallways, the occupants slumbering in their beds. A few servants finished their duties but the path to the king’s bedchamber was clear. He could only hope that the king was asleep as well. The assassin was in the outer chambers now and– blast–  he halted at the sight of movement in the corner of the room. He paused, taking in the situation. There was a servant, scrubbing the stone tiles.

A pretty servant. Striking red hair and a lithe body. He was curious about his eyes and his slender hands.

Perhaps he could ask his Queen for a reward if all went well.

It had been a lonely life but as the Serpent King’s life came to an end, so would his loneliness. He would be able to step out of the shadows and live his life again.

“Crowley?” A voice called out and the assassin watched with interest as the servant rose and headed into the king’s chamber.

“My king?”

“Fetch me more wine. I am not feeling tired.”

“Of course, my lord.” The servant bowed and stepped out, walking right past where the assassin was hidden from sight. Once the servant was in the hallway, the man slipped out of the shadows and walked right into the king’s bedchamber.

“That was fas–” The king was cut off by a sharp blade. He ducked just in time, grabbing his assailant’s arm. “Crowley! The guards!” The assassin cussed and tackled him down to the ground.

“No!” The servant rushed in, wine sloshing over the both of them as he tossed the pitcher of wine at his king’s attacker. He grabbed the man and tried to wrestle him off the monarch but the assassin shoved him back and he collapsed backwards, shards flying. He lay there stunned as the assassin’s blade struck true. “No!” The servant rallied, crawling over and trying to grab the assassin again, but it was too late. His king lay there on his back, staring up at the ceiling with empty eyes and a slit throat. “What have you done?!” The servant made a horrified sound.

“I did what had to be done.” The assassin pointed his bloody blade at the servant next. “What kind of servant defends a man like that?” The servant glanced down at the Serpent King and shrugged, a lost expression on his face.

“He was my king.” He answered softly. “Would you not fight for your queen?”

“Well, now he’s dead.” The assassin answered sharply. “Would you like to join him?”

“I would think it would be you, not me.” The servant backed away. “Guards! Guards! To the king!” He yelled with more force the man had assumed he would be capable of. He heard the sounds of guards and clanking armor and he allowed himself a little chuckle.

“I will find you later.” He smirked. “You amuse me.” And then the assassin was gone, escaped before the guards could even enter the chamber.

 

---

 

Aziraphale Eastgate stumbled up to the palace, running late as usual.

“Your majesty, my apologies!” He bowed as he hurried into the throne room, nearly losing all his maps and books in the process.

“Aziraphale!” She greeted him cheerily from her silver throne. “You made it. Punctual as always.” Her smile was friendly but he bowed again.

“I am so sorry. I was trying to make sure I had everything and then when I looked at my clock, I had everything but time.” She chuckled, amused by his antics.

“My council needs reminding why the Serpent King had to fall. Show them where those mines are. The ones that will fetch us all a pretty penny.”

“Gold mines to the west.” Aziraphale flung out a map and placed it on the nearby table that had been waiting for his arrival. He traced the mountain range as the council gathered around, a mix of old and young men and women looking to see what this war would benefit them. Many had family fighting in the Queen’s forces and so Aziraphale understood their concern. Gold would not replace a lost loved one but it would help ease the sting. Or so he told himself quite often.

“Hmm.” The eldest of the council sighed. “Is that all my grandson is off fighting for?”

“The Serpent King destroys without a thought.” Aziraphale fired back before he could stop it, realizing too late that the question had been directed at the queen. “He has to be stopped.”

“And he has been.” The Queen answered. “A blade to the neck late last night. Our forces are moving towards their capital as we speak. It might take a few months before an official surrender but their king is dead and their land and people will be ours. We must welcome them with open arms. Who knows how much they’ve suffered?”

“I have the room to host at least one person.” Aziraphale offered meekly, in way of apology. “My deepest apologies for speaking out of turn, your majesty.”

“Forgiven, Aziraphale.” She smiled, tilting her head to the side. “I’ll find the perfect new companion for you, my most brilliant advisor.”

“You are too kind.” He murmured, bowing his head. “My most grateful thanks.” He’d lived alone for all these years– after coming back to a ruined estate, lying in smoldering ash. All of its inhabitants’ bodies burned to the bone except for his. His father. His mother. His wife. His child. That was what the Serpent King did to innocent civilians in the lands he conquered. And that was why Aziraphale had fled and worked his way up in the queen’s court. He would find a way to stop that wretched man any way that he could.

His current estate was modest, more of a cottage with a garden than an estate. He had the money for more but he didn’t dare build anything that could look like a target to jealous people with access to fire. His cottage and garden though–  it could fit two people comfortably– and he was about to find out if it would. He’d gotten used to being alone with his maps and books but… it might be nice to share the space with someone again. Maybe an old man who used to work in the King’s libraries or a pretty servant who washed his floors.

Time would tell. His queen would reward his loyalty.

Chapter 2: Bringing Crowley Home

Crowley fought until the soldiers had him cornered and then he fought some more. They had him pinned against the wall when they broke his hand to make him drop the knife. They laughed when he screamed, one of them gripping at his thigh in a manner that did not go unnoticed.

“Your king is dead. There is nothing to fight for.” Another one of the soldiers growled, striking him in the head. Crowley dropped to the ground and was dragged off with the rest of the prisoners. They were shackled and then loaded into wagons, heading for the Queen’s perusal.

This queen believed in assimilation. She would take some of their people and move them to different places around her realm. Some of her people would come and settle here. They would learn to be neighbors and friends one day. It would take time but it made the land more stable and the people less at each other’s throats. There would be opportunities for them to succeed like joining the army or learning a trade. They could fall in love, start families. A new life was beginning. Just under a new banner and a new ruler.

The soldiers burned every flag and smashed every relic of the Serpent King that they could find. And then they settled in, making themselves comfortable. Making the land stable.

Most of the soldiers were principled. The queen was good about rewarding a job well done and the generals were good to highlight the soldiers who distinguished themselves in battle. But, unfortunately, there were a few who believed that they could help themselves to the spoils of war as they wished.

And misfortune was upon any prisoner of war that caught their eyes. Especially one with an unbroken spirit as fiery as his red hair.

---

It was almost three months before Aziraphale was called before his queen to receive his reward. The man he was gifted was a slight shadow of himself, frail and pale. His striking red hair was nothing but a mere sliver of red shorn close to his scalp. More concerning to Aziraphale was that he was being held in chains that he could barely lift, dragged in by guards. Even more concerning was his state of undress, bruises and cuts littering his pale skin. He had heavy bags under his tired eyes that stayed fixed on the fine, marble floors.

“You will stay with one of my most trusted advisors.” The queen sentenced the prisoner of war to a gentle life in a stone cottage. “Your loyalty to your king is admirable. But it’s over. He’s dead.” The prisoner clenched his jaw but he said nothing, bowing his head barely. At least the bumbling advisor mooning over at him was nothing like the fearsome assassin who had slit his king’s throat. He couldn’t handle that insult to injury. “Be firm with him, Aziraphale, but gentle. His journey here was less kind than it should have been.” The prisoner shuddered, turning away, and Aziraphale noticed the bruises that were finger shaped, imprinted on his hips. He turned to his queen, an indignant look on his face, and she nodded.

His intuition was correct. A pretty servant did not fare well when enemy soldiers came upon him and they had given him several more reasons to hate them. Hence her giving him to Aziraphale. She knew he would be safe. Perhaps her advisor could sway him to be more forgiving of their people.

The soldiers had met bitter ends and she had allowed the prisoner to witness their deaths. Not to be cruel but to comfort him with the knowledge that they could never hurt him or anyone else again. A grim reminder that she was a fair ruler who looked out for all her people. Even those who didn’t want to be hers.

The slight, lanky man turned as the guards pushed him towards Aziraphale, stumbling and falling to the ground. Like a bird with broken wings, unable to keep himself upright. Aziraphale knelt next to him, pulling off his jacket and covering his shoulders as someone chuckled in the crowd.

“Thank you, your majesty.” He whispered. “I will look after him.” She smiled and nodded to the guards. They undid the man’s shackles and Aziraphale helped him rise to his feet. He swayed and Aziraphale scooped him up, carrying him like a bride out of the Queen’s throne room. Bringing him home.

---

Aziraphale carried the poor creature home and placed him gingerly in a chair. The man’s eyes were nearly vacant as he stared through his new surroundings instead of taking them in.

“Um, hello.” Aziraphale murmured. “I am Aziraphale. You will be staying with me. I–uh–I know this is hard. I do.” He soothed. “But you will be safe with me.” He stroked his hand over the back of the man’s hand, noting how the bones were crooked and warped. It had been broken and been allowed to heal incorrectly. “Oh, dear.” He sighed, fretting over the old injury. “You’re hurt. Perhaps a bath and then I’ll show you to your room. You can rest as much as you like. You– you’re a guest. Nothing more.”

The captive raised his head and looked at him with hollow eyes. Aziraphale guessed he had seen things that no one should ever see.

He could relate.

“They said you were my master.” He said in a dull voice. “I am to serve you and make you happy.”

“I am happy to have you here. That’s all I need.” Aziraphale was quick to answer. “I don’t like war or the horrors that come with it. You are safe here. Safe to recover and build a new life.” He hesitated. “They said you were a servant? In the castle of your king?”

“I watched him die.” Crowley croaked. He didn’t know why he was telling this bumbling fool so much. He’d managed to stay silent for weeks, learning that the soldiers were more likely to leave him alone the more broken he was. They’d been thorough in breaking him, body and soul. But his spirit remained, barely, buried under the rubble of the man he had once been. It had been a modest life in the castle but it had been his. “I couldn’t save him.”

“I’m sorry.” Aziraphale said quietly. “Death is a terrible thing to look upon. No one may see Death and return unscathed.”

“What death have you seen, advisor? Hiding behind your books and maps?” Crowley scoffed even as he accepted the woven blanket being wrapped around his shoulders. This new master seemed to want to cover him and Crowley was tired of the target his nakedness had made of him. He was more of a whore than a servant, forced to bend and break under stronger men and women.

What would this fool ask of him? Would he warm his bed or his cock? Would he be paraded around naked for all to gawk at but never touch? Did he prefer silks to chains when he tied Crowley down and–”

“You’re trembling.” Aziraphale withdrew. “I’ll start that bath.” Crowley scoffed and Aziraphale looked back at him from the doorway, a terrible light in his eyes. “I’ve seen more of Death than I would care to see.” He said quietly. “And for that, I find my solace in my maps and books, Crowley.” He left the man there at the kitchen table, hurrying to draw water and warm it for his guest. A nice, hot bath would be a good place to start. They could work from there.

Chapter 3: The Doll in the Garden

Crowley went to see Theo, a guard he was friendly with, a few days after the king’s death. He hadn’t been able to eat or sleep since it happened and he was craving something normal.

Theo and him weren’t an item but… they were fucking. Theo had found him quickly after he’d taken his mother’s place as a janitorial servant and they’d bantered until Crowley let him fuck him.

And while nothing was normal, and never would be again, Crowley hoped that maybe seeing Theo. Maybe getting fucked would help… reset him.

Neither of them expected the queen’s soldiers to burst in mid-act. Theo died quickly and Crowley yanked his pants up, grabbing his knife, and charging at the soldiers. He’d killed a few until they cornered him, breaking his hand, and knocking him out.

 

---

 

Now Crowley stared at plants with his useless hand tucked against his chest. It was spring so half the garden was turning green and blooming and the other half looked dead still. This new master had made him a comfortable sling. Had dressed him and put oil on his itchy scalp. Crowley let him do whatever he wanted. If he wanted to dress him up like a doll and place him in his gardens to sit and watch the bugs and the birds then so be it. Crowley was done fighting anyway.

Unless that strange assassin found him. He’d kill him the first chance he got. He’d plunge a dagger into his heart and look him in the eyes as his life bled out. He’d avenge his king. He’d avenge himself.

And then maybe… maybe he’d die too. There didn’t seem to be much of a life after that. Nothing to live for.

“Crowley?” Speaking of his master, he was calling him. How he got his name, well, Crowley didn’t know. A speck of doubt festered in him that perhaps this man had gotten it by nefarious means. But as he got up and headed inside, he noticed that there was paperwork lying on the table. One that mentioned his name and a few details about his physical appearance. He had a feeling the assassin had penned those few lines praising his beauty. He ignored the text written in a different hand that gave details of his suffering on the road. He'd lived it. He certainly didn't need to read about it.

One thing was for certain, these enemies appreciated his physical appearance.

He memorized the handwriting, for later, of course, and headed further inside to find his master.

---

 

Crowley’s wagon was guarded by five guards. It was slow going, moving fifteen prisoners to the enemy capital. The queen had standards as to how to transport them and while they were mostly confined to the wagon, they stopped often with breaks. They were given time to rest and stretch, eat and drink, and in Crowley’s case, be whisked away by the three guards who decided he was fuckable enough to risk their careers.

They made plans to kill the two other guards. So no one could report them but Crowley listened when they talked and maimed one of them. He lost an eye and Crowley’s arm was broken in retaliation. But the two guards knew he had saved them and they made sure to report all of Hastur, Ligur, and Dagon’s hideous crimes.

The queen had asked Crowley if he wanted the baby that Dagon claimed as his. It was but Crowley had wanted no part in their conception. He told the queen no and Dagon was executed right alongside her partners in crime. A little too late to save Crowley but everyone else would be fucking safe.

---

“Master?” He stood in the doorway of the advisor’s office. He was dressed much like his master, simple pants and a shirt, a robe loosely fastened alongside his waist. Aziraphale’s robe was much finer than his but Crowley supposed that was the point. He was his servant now. He wondered if the queen had allowed him to take on a familiar role to help soothe him. To hope that it would help him settle.

He would never settle. He would never let them win.

The familiarity, unfortunately, did help though. It was easy to slip back into being a servant. Even if it was to one of them.

Aziraphale raised his head and looked up at him.

“Ah, Crowley.” He smiled, the warmth reaching his eyes. The other reason he was here was because this man was lonely. The queen knew it and Crowley could tell. This flimsy excuse of a man didn’t know what to do with Crowley but he was glad to have him around. It was a sentiment that irked Crowley to no end. Irked him because he was grateful for it. A small spot of warmth near his ice cold heart.

He had learned how important it was to not be alone on the journey here. The guards had mocked him in front of the other captives, fucked him a few times where they could see. All in an attempt to isolate him and make him dependent on them. It had backfired. Crowley had been well looked after by the other captives and they had comforted him when it all was too much.

There had been an elderly woman who had taken him in as her own. Crowley would find her. She deserved a place like this. Aziraphale seemed kind enough and he didn’t seem like the type to torment an old woman.

“Yes, master?”

“We are going to the healer’s today. Would you like to stop at the shops and pick some fabric for some new clothes?”

“These clothes are fine, master.” Crowley shrugged. His arm hung limply at his side. It still hurt too much to move. Probably was still broken. The healer would find it and Aziraphale would realize how useless he was to have around save for in his bed where he could just lie there and take–

“These clothes are old and made for me.” Aziraphale murmured, noting that the shaking had started up again. A trauma response, no doubt. “Crowley, I heard what happened to you on the road. I am so very sorry that they treated you in that way. It is not our way to torment and force those who cannot consent.” He tilted his head to the side. “I was glad to hear that your tormentors died.” Crowley blinked. “And I want to assure you that I am not that kind of person. I will not hurt you or force you in any way. You are here to heal and recover. To join us.”

“I will never join you!” Crowley hissed even as he blinked away tears. He would never stop fighting them! He would never find peace!

“I understand.” And blast him, Aziraphale did seem like he understood. “I will still tend to you and treat you as my guest. For you are my guest.”

“Yes, master.” He said dully, looking away as a tear slipped free. Damn them all. Aziraphale reached over and wiped away the droplet, looking very sorrowful indeed. He pulled his hand back and rose from behind his desk, Crowley flinching at the movement.

”Shall we go?”

“Of course, master.”

“And if you need anything from me, Crowley. You only need to ask. It might not look like it but my time in court has paid me well. I have the money to supply anything you might want.”

“There was a woman–” Crowley hung his head and Aziraphale paused, encouraging him to continue. “A woman in my wagon. She was old and very kind to me. She comforted me and tried to tend to me… after.” That word said what Crowley could not. “Could you take her in or least make sure she is somewhere… kind? I would see her kindness to me repaid in any way that I can.”

Aziraphale blinked, touched by Crowley’s concern for his fellow prisoner of war. Grateful that there had been comfort for him after the horrors. He nodded slowly, swallowing hard before clearing his throat.

“I will look into it.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. If you think of anything else, Crowley, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Okay.”

Chapter 4: Thoughts on Healers and Healing

The healer was an older woman and Crowley hated that he instantly felt soothed by her presence. She introduced herself as Agnes and the young woman who helped her as her granddaughter, Anathema. She wasn’t one of the queen’s usual kind. She came from another land like he did and Crowley found that comforting as well.

Anathema brought Aziraphale out of the room, leaving Crowley alone with Agnes.

“I am going to do a physical examination.” She told him. “I was told your journey was unkind and that soldiers lost their lives because of their cruelty. Would you like to tell me anything else?”

“They fucked me.” Crowley shrugged, wincing at the pain lancing through his arm. “That’s what they mean.”

“I might have to check down there for injuries. Are you all right with that?”

“Do I have a choice?” He gave a weary laugh.

“Yes, Crowley.” She frowned. “I am a healer. I will not touch you and expose you if you are uncomfortable!” His eyes watered and he swallowed hard, looking away.

“Oh.” He managed.

“We are not enemies.” She told him. “I have no desire to see you hurt.”

“Okay.” He winced as he shrugged again.

“What happened to your arm?”

“They broke it.”

“The… people who raped you?”

“Yea.” Another pained shrug. Like it didn’t hurt. Like he didn’t care. Agnes studied her newest patient carefully. She had to be the most careful with these ones. He cared a lot. And that was why he went to such pains to conceal it. A cornered animal would bite if they felt threatened… this man wasn’t all that different.

“Why?”

“They were going to kill the other guards.”

“Why?” She looked genuinely shocked and Crowley felt comfortable enough to keep going.

“They didn’t want the guards to report what they’d been doing to me.” He whispered, bowing his head. “So I maimed Ligur.” He continued. “And they broke my arm. My hand was already useless so they broke this one.” He lifted the shoulder carefully and Agnes clucked softly.

“May I examine your arm, Crowley?” She would leave the hand for later. She already could tell it would need to be rebroken if he ever wanted to use it again. There was most likely a similar story as to why it had been broken as well.

“Sure.” She helped him take the robe off and then his shirt. He shivered as he bared his skin, his eyes growing distant.

“I’m going to examine your arm now, Crowley.” She kept talking, noting that he relaxed some and even glanced her way. As long as she could keep him here with her, present in the moment with her, then this would go much more smoothly for them both. “It’s starting to mend on it’s own but I’m worried about the position. May I straighten it and splint it for you?”

“Yea.” He whispered. “It’ll hurt less in the long run if it heals right.” He looked down at the hand he kept tucked close to him and Agnes sympathized for him. “Can you do anything about this awful thing?” He asked in a low voice and Agnes was grateful that he was open to her helping him with his hand.

“I could redo the breaks in it and set it like I will set your arm.” She told him. “It will hurt but when it heals, you should regain most of its use.”

“Fuck.” He sucked in a breath. “Tired of hurting, doc.”

“I understand.” She whispered. “Sometimes we have to suffer a bit more pain to get to the part where we heal correctly.” He huffed in amusement, the metaphor not lost on him.

“I’m not gonna be like you two. I won’t ever call these people anything but my enemies.” He raised his head proudly.

“War is over, Crowley. “She said quietly. “Our war has been resolved for many years now. Sometimes we give up the war so we can finally have some peace. I had my grand-daughter. She was relying on me to give her a life worth living. And I couldn’t do that by holding onto my constant hate.”

“My hate is all I have.” Crowley told her, his eyes blazing but his shoulders drooped. “If I give it up now, I will have nothing to live for.”

Well… that was concerning. She would give Aziraphale a warning that his guest was more inclined to leave this mortal coil behind than most of the other captives she had seen. Most of them were just happy to still be alive but not this one. This one was holding on for something but then… nothing at all. It was a dangerous place to be.

She set his arm quickly and place it in a sling. He had hissed softly as the broken bones were forced to settle in a better position. He felt like his own broken bones… forced to settle and heal. He wouldn't do it. He couldn’t. He couldn’t forgive the blood and the violence. He couldn’t forgive what had been done to him. “Set my hand.” He said quietly. “I need the pain to center myself.” He dropped his head down his chest. “S’what I deserve for failing my king.”

Again… concerning…

Agnes made quick work of rebreaking the fragile bones in his cripled hand. A healer knew how to hurt more than most and she used her knowledge to make it as quick as possible.

“Ana, the tea!” She called out. “My granddaughter will make something for you to help with the pain.” She said as the man in her care struggled to stay still. To stay silent. His breathing was quick and fast as he struggled to keep his composure.

His grimace said what his silence did not.

She apologized for the pain as she set his hand carefully. She set each finger correctly and then helped the wrist uncurl. She set that next before covering it with a soft cloth. He clicked his tongue looking down at the two slings cradling his broken bones to his chest. “Well, no hiding how useless I am now.”

“You’re not useless. You will heal. You can even hope for a better life. I could always use an apprentice.” She offered. He scoffed but she saw how he latched onto the offer, saving it for later. Busy hands helped a troubled mind and she had bound both of his. “You could start tomorrow if you would like. I’ll teach you what I know and once your arm and hand are better, you can put it to practice.”

“I’ll think about it.” He answered carefully. “You will have to speak to my master about it as well.”

“He’s no more your master than I am.”

“Still. I am in his house. His service.” Crowley bowed his head.  She tsked and then redressed him, hiding his injuries with cloth. His shirt was replaced and then his robe.

“May I examine the rest of you?” She asked carefully and he nodded. He lay down on the cot she kept and let her do as she needed. She was good, talking the whole time. Whatever injuries he had from his rapists, they were fading and healing on their own. She did apply an oil to help ease the healing and she ordered a light diet to make sure the healing continued. Mostly liquids but Crowley wasn’t offended.

While he could have a flair for the dramatics at times, he was a practical man.

He needed to regain his strength if he was to find that assassin. And this time, that awful man would be the one who was dead, staring at the sky with lifeless eyes.

Chapter 5: Quiet Talks in the Morning

“Good morning!” Aziraphale greeted Crowley cheerfully as he stepped inside his room. Crowley cracked an eye open and made a grumbling sound in response just as the curtains on his windows were flung open. “I hope you slept well.”

Crowley had slept fantastically well but he did not feel inclined to share this good news. Whatever had been in that tea Anathema had brewed… well… he had slept as if he was a dead man. She'd sent some of that tea with Aziraphale and he'd drank it almost every night since then. And it had shown him just what he was missing out on.

Perhaps he should have let the assassin kill him as well.

“Slept fine.” He grumbled when he caught the advisor glancing down at him. “I have to pee, master.”

“Oh, of course.” Aziraphale helped him sit up on the bed, pulling out a pot for him to do his business in. Due to the unfortunate nature of his injuries, Aziraphale had to help him with part of this and then Crowley could handle the rest. It was irritating to have his own master serving him, getting him clothed and unclothed just so he could relieve himself. “I made you some eggs to try this morning.”

It had been a week of broths and soups and Crowley had become to get a little irritable over having to only eat liquids. Aziraphale had already stopped by Agnes’ and asked her about trying eggs and some bread. She had given him permission to try, especially since Crowley had done well with the soup.

She was mostly concerned about the fact that he was clearly malnourished, more so than the other captives. Yes, she’d wanted him to heal from any possible tears and what not but those were just a memory at this point. A terrible memory but still. She wanted to make sure he could handle a meal without losing it immediately before they tried more solid foods.

But he was having a hard time settling in. Perhaps being given a little more to work on would help him. He had yet to take her up on her offer even though she had mentioned it to Aziraphale. She counseled Aziraphale to find Crowley something that held his interest. And soon. A melancholy mind left to dwell on terrible things would soon come to a conclusion that neither of them wanted for Crowley. He had a life yet to live… even if he couldn’t see it yet.

“Thanks.” Crowley shrugged. Aziraphale changed his clothes carefully, wrapping him in a robe that was made for him. It was lined with silk on the inside which had to have been a useless expense on the most useless servant around. “You know… I can tell you never had servants before.”

“Why’s that?” Aziraphale huffed, clearly amused if the sparkle in his light blue eyes was anything to go by. Crowley hadn’t gotten a good look at the assassin, their face mostly covered, but he was sure their eyes had been dark. He didn’t mind Aziraphale’s light blue eyes. They were pretty, especially in the morning light.

“Because you treat me like an equal.” Crowely sighed.

“I did have servants once.” Aziraphale answered him with a lopsided smirk. “They helped raise me when I was young. And that is why I treat you like my equal. We are all equals even if we are from different families and countries. We are all people. The higher one’s rank, the more conscious of that truth they should be.”

“Huh.” Crowley grunted. “I washed the king’s floors. I’m pretty sure he thought I was a bug half the time, got in there by accident or through an open window.” He glanced down at the floor only for Aziraphale to catch his chin and lift it gently.

“Then he missed out on a great opportunity to make a new friend.” Crowley stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, before he wrenched his chin out of his gentle grasp and looked away angrily.

“We’re not friends!” He hissed and Aziraphale’s shoulders had the audacity to droop sadly.

“I know.” He murmured. “But I would like us to be.” He grabbed the scented oil and rubbed it into Crowley’s scalp gently but firmly. The itching had stopped for the most part but the oil would encourage his hair to grow again. As would the regular meals.

“Why? I am your enemy! I would have cut you down on the battlefield for wearing green and silver without a second thought.”

“I don’t like war.” Aziraphale fidgeted. “Lots of people lose their lives. Even more lose their reasons for living and all that they love. Even those who try to stay out of the conflict. So I try to ease conflict where I can. Be gentle when I want to be angry. Be friends with those who would rather be enemies.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

“So far? Poorly.” Aziraphale chuckled. “But whatever fight you’re looking for, Crowley, you won’t find it here.”

“Noted.” He said churlishly and Aziraphale chuckled again, amused. Crowley froze at the sound, remembering the night another man had chuckled openly at him.

“You amuse me.” He shivered and Aziraphale wrapped his robe around him a little more snugly.

“Are you all right?”

“The assassin said he’d find me. Said I amused him.” Crowley whispered. “Can you protect me or would you let me go to him without a fight?”

“Well, if he comes for you, then I guess we will both find out.” Aziraphale sighed. Crowley bristled… not the answer he was hoping for. But then Aziraphale opened his robes slightly to reveal a hidden blade hanging from his tunic. “I do not like war, Crowley, but I do defend what is mine. And my father trained me very well.”

“He slaughtered a man who commanded thousands. Who had killed thousands.” Crowley whispered. “I do not think we would be much of a challenge for him.”

“Perhaps.” Aziraphale gave him a reassuring smile. “Perhaps not. Maybe I will bring you to one of my matches so you can have more faith in my abilities.” Crowley did smile at that.

“Where were you on this night?” He rattled off a date seared into his mind and memory.

“I was preparing for a meeting with the queen and her advisors.” Aziraphale told him. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” Crowley managed. “Guess I just want assurances that you’re not him.”

“Do I look like him?” Aziraphale snorted. Both of them imagined the advisor as the ferocious assassin and both of them had to laugh.

“Not really.” Crowley answered. “Just– I don’t know who I can trust anymore. Life wasn’t easy in the palace but it was my life. I knew what was expected of me. I knew who to avoid.”

“I will tell you this.” Aziraphale murmured, nodding. “Everything I have ever done was for my family. I work with the queen to avenge them. I gave her all my knowledge… my books and my maps… to avenge the people I loved most in the world. And then in exchange, she gave me you. Someone who would defend their king to the death and even beyond. It’s ironic, isn’t it? The man who would stop at nothing to see your king killed is the man the queen gave you to. The man who tends to you.”

“Do you think she wants us to duel?” Crowley snorted. He glanced up at Aziraphale with a somber expression. “I’m sorry about your family.”

“I’m sorry about your country.” Crowley gazed up at him, his expression lighter than it had been in days.

“We should talk more.” He decided. “Feels a little better when we talk. Selfish maybe… but I like knowing you lost everything too. I can understand why you’d hate him. A lot of people did. I think I even hated him sometimes.”

“You’re loyal. It’s not a bad thing.”

“I know.” Crowley looked away. “He gave me a chance when no one else would. Even if it was just a chance to scrub his floors. I didn’t have anything after my mother died. He gave me her job. It’s silly, I know.”

“No, I understand. He gave you a purpose.” Aziraphale’s eyes were far away. “Like what my queen did for me.”

“Guess we’re not that different after all.” Crowley said mournfully. “Guess you were right about that much.”

“Gee, thanks.” Aziraphale chuckled. “Come on, you’re dressed. Let’s go eat.”

“Fine.” Crowley smiled hesitantly up at him. “I’d like that.”

Chapter 6: Shears and Thoughts Can Both Cut Deep

Summary:

TW: self-harm, blood, discussions about self- harm

While I wrote this, I thought about how self harm is a bit insidious. I struggled with the physical version of it when I was younger but even now, I sometimes notice certain choices or thoughts can be still be a form of self-harm. Sabotaging oneself when the option for success is right there. The physicality might not be happening but the mentality can remain if we're not careful. (also I'm not saying this for attention or anything, I just wanted to explain the thought process behind some of the chapter. I'm in a really good place now compared to where I used to be).

We see that thought play out with our boys who are in different stages.

“Heard you were looking for me.” Crowley whirled around but nothing was there. No one. He turned back around and a blade was delicately sliding down his throat. “Here I am.” He saw the flash of the blade in the darkness.

He tried to cry out but then he was choking on his own blood, dying, as the assassin stood over him. “You’re so amusing, Crowley. You thought you could kill me? Ha! How’d that work out for you?”

“No–”

“I told you I would come for you.”

 

---

Crowley cried out, struggling against his blankets.

“No!” He screamed, rousing the man who slept in the room next to his. Aziraphale flung aside his own blankets and hurried to his guest’s room. He was there in a moment, shaking Crowley awake. If only to save him from whatever was happening in the dream.

Agnes had warned him about nightmares but Aziraphale knew from his own experience that they would come.

“It’s just a dream.” Aziraphale soothed as he woke with another scream, rising up out of his blankets as he tried to escape the inevitable. “You’re safe. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Crowley was scanning the room, trembling as the advisor rubbed his upper back tentatively.

“He was right here!” Crowley cried, biting his lip to keep from bursting into tears now that he saw the room was empty. “He had me on the floor. He killed me like…” he trailed off but Aziraphale could fill in the blanks. Aziraphale clicked his tongue, clearly wanting to comfort him and not knowing how.

“May I… hug you?” He asked hesitantly. Crowley paused, scowling up at him. It was his eyes though that made Aziraphale feel worse for asking, taking two steps back, at the despair and fear he saw there. “I’m sorry. Nevermind.” He sighed. “I thought it might help but nevermind.” He held his own two hands up, so Crowley could see where they were.

Part of him would accept the hug from his host but the other part of him was frozen at the thought of Aziraphale hugging him and then climbing on top of him like… Ligur or Hastur.

“Not yet.” He managed and Aziraphale nodded.

“Tea?”

“Please.” Crowley was shaking. He hated it when he started trembling and couldn’t stop. It had started on the journey here and he hated it so much. He hated that Aziraphale seemed to understand where it was from and what triggered it. How was he so fucking understanding?! Aziraphale withdrew, leaving Crowley sitting on his bed, trembling like a leaf in autumn. He got up a second later and followed him out, more angry at himself than anything.

If he’d been able to defend himself then he wouldn’t be like this! So helpless and useless! “May I sit in the garden?”

“It’s still cold.” Aziraphale cautioned him and he shrugged, unable to meet his eyes. “Go ahead. Make sure you don’t get wet.” Crowley murmured something that sounded like thanks and hurried outside. Aziraphale had made a latch he could open without using his hands… something that he was grateful for and annoyed by all at the same time.

He hurried into the garden, gulping down the cool, morning air, as he hurried to the small shed where Aziraphale kept his tools. Steeling himself, Crowley took a breath and then sliced his arm against the sharp edge of the shears. Blood bubbled up instantly and he realized he might have pushed too much. It was much deeper than the other cuts and now blood was dripping down his arm and on the ground. “Crowley?” Aziraphale was at the door of the shed and Crowley froze, tears springing in his eyes. He’d been so careful up until now. Of course, his master would follow him out.

“I didn’t mean– I– I meant to cut myself, yes.” Crowley hung his head. His words coming out in a rush. “But I didn’t– I didn’t mean for it to be this bad.” He held his arm out and Aziraphale’s eyes widened. He stepped forward and took Crowley’s hand gently, mindful of the splint.

“What hap– why?” He asked simply. “Why are you doing this to yourself?” Crowley blinked away more tears at the gentle question. And then Aziraphale ripped his own robe and wrapped it around the wound, applying that same gentleness to the pressure he placed there.

“I deserve it.” Crowley whispered. “I was weak. I have to make myself strong again.”

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s voice held so much sorrow that it confused the other man. “Not like this.”

“I should have been able to defend myself!” Crowley cried out and Aziraphale glanced up at him, looking as if he might cry with him. Crowley shuddered and then leaned towards him. He’d take that hug now. S’long as the advisor didn’t make him beg for it. Aziraphale wrapped an arm around him, tilting his head against his.

“They hurt you so you couldn’t through no fault of your own. They were wicked people who wanted wicked things and they were willing to make you vulnerable to get them. I’m so sorry, Crowley.” Aziraphale hummed softly as Crowley hid his face against his chest. “You didn’t deserve it, Crowley. And you definitely don’t deserve this.” He sighed. “Agnes will need to stitch this up.”

“No more garden, huh?” Crowley raised his head and stepped back from the other man’s embrace.

“No more garden alone.” Aziraphale countered. “Talk to me when you feel like this. You’ve suffered so much, Crowley, through no fault of your own. You don’t need to punish yourself.”

“Your family… did you punish yourself over their deaths?” Crowley asked bluntly and Aziraphale flinched.

“In my own way, yes. I pushed myself to live a life that I hated for many years. All to avenge them. All while wishing I was dead with them.”

“And now?”

“I regret some of it.” Aziraphale allowed. “I wish I was gentler with myself. I wish I had chosen to avenge them through a different path. I was so focused on my own pain that I didn’t realize how much pain my actions would bring to other people.”

“Like helping your queen kill a king?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale looked him in his eyes. “If I had known how much it would hurt you, I would have thought twice.” Crowley scoffed, shaking his head.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I would have pushed for a different way. Or to at least make sure civilians were treated better.”

“S’war, Aziraphale.” Crowley gazed over at him. “Don’t think anyone wins when there’s war.”

“I would be inclined to agree with you.” Aziraphale guided him back into the house and sat him at the table. “I’ll send for Agnes or Ana to come tend to this. I don’t want to risk you getting an infection. And I’ll ask the gardener to clean the tools.”

“You keep them clean to start with.” Crowley shrugged. “I knew what I was doing. I was smart about it.”

“Smart is not the word I would use.” Aziraphale snorted playfully. “But you were careful and I appreciate that. Makes it easier to put you back together.” Crowley started.

“What if you can’t?” He asked in a small voice.

“What if I can’t what?” Aziraphale asked.

“What if I can’t be put back together.”

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale looked pained. “I’m not trying to fix you. Just to help you heal and find some peace where you may be able to find some. It’s like talking to a younger me again.” He chuckled nervously. “S’a bit unnerving.” Crowley laughed. He let Aziraphale give him his tea, sipping at the cup carefully each time his master brought it to his lips. Aziraphale cleaned the wound carefully before wrapping it in a clean cloth.

Ana showed up and recleaned the wound, stitching it up deftly. And Crowley sort of understood Aziraphale’s point as he stared at his latest bandage. He’d made himself weaker, not stronger. He’d given himself another wound to heal from. He’d put himself back from avenging himself and his king yet another step.

He’d practically tried to do the assassin’s work for him. Crowley couldn’t afford to keep doing that.

He glanced over at his master, sitting off at his desk. Aziraphale glanced back at him and gave him a little smile. It didn’t reach his eyes this time though. Aziraphale looked troubled. And Crowley had sense enough to know he had caused some of that. He got up and stood in the doorway.

“Please don’t get rid of me. I’ll be better.” He said softly.

“I have no expectations from you. You will stay with me.” Aziraphale answered. “You’ve just reminded me of a truth I like to forget.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m not a good person.” Aziraphale snorted wryly. “Even though I would have liked to be one, once upon a time.”

“You seem fine to me.” Aziraphale scoffed and Crowley had to wonder if this was how he hurt himself still. How he coped with losing his family even now. Punishing himself with cruel words and attacks on his own character. “Now who is hurting himself?” He pushed and Aziraphale sighed, shaking his head.

“Let’s go for a walk.” He answered. “I’d like to clear my head.”

"Okay." Crowley shrugged. "Let's go."

Chapter 7: A Wild Forest Spirit

They walked arm and arm through the market and then beyond the walls of the city, out into an open meadow. The sun shone down over the dewy grass, illuminating the small beads of water. The dark boughs of the nearby forest beckoned to them, as if it wanted to be explored. Crowley hoped he might get to explore it one day.

“S’nice out here.” Crowley offered. “Peaceful.”

“It is.” Aziraphale agreed. “I walk here often when I’m overwhelmed. I didn’t grow up in the city and I find it overwhelming sometimes. So many people.”

“Not a city boy, got it.” Crowley grinned. “I grew up as a brat on the streets. You know, poor kids.” He said softly. “Mom was busy working in the castle most days so I got to run with my friends whenever I wanted.”

“That sounds nice.” Aziraphale said wistfully.

“What? Running the streets?” Crowley snorted.

“No, friends.” Aziraphale replied quietly. “They’ve always been hard to come by. At first, there weren’t many families nearby. But even at school, there was always something wrong with me. I was too smart, too rich, too noble, too– too much for the other boys to want to play with me. And the girls, well, their mothers wanted to strike a match early if they could. So no one wanted to be friends with me for, well, me.”

“That sounds lonely.” Crowley frowned. “Sorry.”

“It’s probably why I am a rubbish master.” Aziraphale chuckled. “I’d rather have a friend than a servant any day.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

They walked in companionable silence for a little ways before Aziraphale spoke up.

“I will be in court tomorrow so I will be gone all day. Would you like me to inquire about the assassin to the queen? I can find where he’s gone so you can find some peace?”

“You’d do that?” Crowley frowned again.

“I like your company.” Aziraphale answered carefully. “I want you to like it here. And it’s easier for me to ask the queen than it would be for you.”

“I plan to kill him one day.” Aziraphale huffed.

“Of course. I understand.” He nodded. “I don’t have to if you–”

“No, please, I’d like to know where he is.” Crowley answered breathlessly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Aziraphale paused and glanced back at the city. “Are you tired? We can head back.” Crowley shook his head. He was tired but it had been an eventful morning and his arm ached where he’d sliced it open.

“I’d like to see the forest before we turn around.” Aziraphale brightened and Crowley realized he loved the forest as well. “Why don’t you make a home out here?” He asked. “You could always travel into the city when the queen requires your presence.”

“I’ve thought about it.” Aziraphale admitted. “But then I’d really be alone. At least in the city, there’s other people. They’re not my people, per se, they don’t care if I live or die, but there are people. I think being utterly on my own without anyone would drive me mad.”

“What do you mean these aren’t your people?” Crowley caught that phrasing. “Weren’t you born to this?”

“No, I’m a refugee.” Aziraphale answered truthfully. “My home, where I was born, was conquered by the Serpent King. I fled here after it all burned.” His eyes looked very far away and Crowley found himself leaning in, beyond curious. Aziraphale was a private man and while he’d hinted at some great sorrow… this was a chance to learn details.

“Is that why you hate him? He burned your home?” Crowley asked.

“With everyone I ever loved inside. The servants who raised me. My father who taught me the way of the blade. My mother who taught me about honor and duty. My… wife.” Crowley started at that revelation. “My c-child. Not even two years old yet. Nothing but burned bones in smoldering ash when I came back.”

“Shit.” Crowley breathed. Now he wondered how Aziraphale was sane at all. Losing his own mother had been terrible but she had just gotten sick. The healers had tried to save her but they couldn’t. Aziraphale’s family had been murdered. “Why?”

“My father was a renowned man in our community. He taught several how to wield a blade. And he was someone people looked to for leadership. He was a gentle man but he was a threat to a conqueror who wanted to squish any idea of rebellion.” Aziraphale bowed his head. “I should have burned with them. I was away for work. I hurried back when I heard the armies were headed towards the town near where we lived. They were trapped in a room, locked from the outside. They couldn’t get out.” Crowley bowed his head too. His heart aching for someone else’s loss instead of his own.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “That’s a terrible thing. I would hate him too–”

“I think sometimes I hated him most for not killing me too. At least then I would still have my family.”

“I didn’t know you had a wife.”

“An arranged marriage.” Aziraphale tilted his head to the side, acknowledging the truth. “But we were friends. And our boy was– he–” his throat choked with emotion and Crowley stayed quiet while the advisor struggled to keep his composure, “-- he was the most delightful boy. So smart and funny. Not like me at all.”

“He sounds like a sweet boy.” Crowley offered and Aziraphale nodded, wiping away tears quickly.

“He was. I was very proud of him.” Aziraphale cleared his throat. “My apologies. I did not mean to darken our walk with the shadows of my past.”

“S’fine. Nice to learn more about you honestly.” Crowley admitted. “Makes more sense.”

“What does?”

“Why you don’t like war.” Crowley breathed. “I don’t think I like it either.”

“Yea.” Aziraphale murmured. “It turns us into shells of the people we once were. It turns us from people with full lives to caretakers tending graves and memories.”

“Yea.” Crowley nodded. “Perhaps you should pursue some poetry? That was a very descriptive way to describe something so awful.”

“I’ll look into a class. Maybe one of the greats is holding classes to teach the rest of us how to craft with words.”

“Nah.” Crowley chuckled. “Just write them down.”

“I could write one about you.” Aziraphale said softly. “You look like you belong out here— like a wild, forest spirit.”

“Now you’re just lying.” Crowley snorted. “I look like a half-starved captive of war trying to recover.” A chill ran down his back. He hoped Aziraphale wasn’t attracted to him too. He needed— he needed to be safe with Aziraphale. And he wouldn’t feel safe if Aziraphale was trying to fuck him too. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad with him. He’d probably be gentle and sweet.

But— but no… Crowley couldn’t bear the thought of him trying to bed him too. Aziraphale was for recovering, not for fucking.

“Perhaps the forest had a war too.” Aziraphale answered lightly and they laughed, walking arm and arm, meandering deeper into the woods, enjoying their together.

Chapter 8: Worries on an Empty Stomach

Aziraphale hurried off to the queen early in the morning. He had his two bags packed with books and maps again, rushing this way and that, when Crowley saw him off to the door.

“Now Ana will come around lunch to help you with things.” Aziraphale told him. “Anges will visit in the afternoon to make sure you’re doing all right.” He hesitated. “Don’t hurt yourself, please.” He reached out and squeezed Crowley’s arm where it wasn’t injured. “I would hate to come back and find you in a state of distress.” Crowley waved him off with a playful scoff.

“Yea, yea. One less enemy to fight. Oh, no.”

“Crowley.” Aziraphale said seriously and Crowley smiled over at him.

“I’ll be fine.” He shrugged. “No injuries as far as I can promise. Can I walk the market?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale allowed. “But stay within the walls.” Crowley groaned and Aziraphale chuckled. “I’ll be back before you know it. I’d like to have a quiet dinner with you tonight. Just the two of us. There are some things I’d like to talk about.”

“Like what?”

“The future, I suppose. I want you to be comfortable here and I will do whatever it takes to help you settle. As much as you’re willing to… of course.” Crowley huffed and shrugged.

“Fine. Not interested in settling much though.”

“Then I suppose I won’t have to get you much then.” Aziraphale quipped. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yea.” Crowley watched him go with a strange feeling in his chest. He hadn’t been without Aziraphale since he’d been pawned off on him and it was odd being separated from him.

He stayed in the house, not wanting to stray outside without Aziraphale. Aziraphale had started to become safe.

Shit.

But then he had to laugh. Aziraphale with his robes and his books was somehow the one who felt safe in the mess that was Crowley’s life lately. He made sure his injuries were tended to and that he was comfortable. He made sure he was dressed. Crowley really appreciated being dressed. He even bought him new fucking clothes. Nice clothes. Like he was a lord or something too.

And he fed Crowley. Good food. Nothing like the scraps and basic gruel Crowley usually ate back in the castle. Sure, he’d snatched a few dainty morsels from the king’s leftovers but… he’d never had it fresh. Aziraphale cooked fresh, good food for him every day. Or maybe he had a cook but Crowley hadn’t seen anyone else around. Just the two of them. And he hadn’t minded it. It wasn’t the city or the palace he was used to but Aziraphale cultivated an environment of peace. And Crowley could use the peace.

He wondered what Aziraphale would want to talk about, a bit of nervousness building in his belly. Talking about the future always led to… something. Theo had been proof of that. And his mother. It tended to end with one person telling another person something they probably didn’t want to know.

It’d be fine.

Honestly, it couldn’t get much worse than it already had. Worst case scenario was that Aziraphale wanted to fuck him. Crowley could survive that. Aziraphale would be kinder in bed than those soldiers. Crowley might even enjoy himself. Aziraphale seemed more like the kind of partner who focused on their lover’s pleasure… maybe even more than his own.

Yea, it would be fine.

Crowley retreated to his room after that and didn’t come out until Anathema showed up for lunch. He didn’t want to have sex with anyone but he’d do it if Aziraphale wanted him to.

“Crowley?” Anathema called out.

“In here.” He called back, flopping back on his bed with a sigh.

“Hello.” She stood the doorway. “Ready for some lunch?” She held up a basket.

“Not really hungry.” Crowley sighed, staring at the same spot on the ceiling that he’d been looking at for hours. “Do you think Aziraphale wants to fuck me?” Ana spluttered but then she laughed.

“I think he thinks you’re handsome.” She sighed. “But Aziraphale isn’t exactly into just fucking, if you know what I mean? He’s not… promiscuous.”

“So he’d want more with the fucking.”

“Yes. But I think he knows better than to ask that from you.”

“Why?” Crowley challenged, his jaw tightening. “Cuz I got raped? I like sex plenty. Those assholes don’t get to take that from me.”

“Well, yea.” Ana sighed. “You need to heal. And he still needs to heal. It’s been years since his family…” She trailed off. “Anyway, I don’t think he’s going to ask you to fuck so can you get up and eat so he won’t be cross at me?”

“Fine.” Crowley slid off the bed and followed her out to the table. “Thanks.”

“Yea, don’t ask me that again. Aziraphale is not the kind of man I like to think about fucking.”

“Why not?” Crowley was oddly affronted by that comment.

“He’s not my type.” She raised an eyebrow. “But maybe he’s yours. Maybe you’re the one who wants to do some fucking, not him.”

“Likely.” Crowley snorted. “I do love a good fuck.” Ana winced.

“Do your people usually talk this openly about sex?”

“Not everyone. I’m just a big slut.” She groaned and Crowley laughed. This had turned out to be one of the more fun conversations he’d had in a while. Maybe Anathema could visit more when Aziraphale was away. Maybe even when he was here. Maybe Aziraphale was this easy to fluster with talk of fucking too. He’d have to find out and find out soon– Crowley did enjoy a bit of mischief.

“Okay, enough of that.” But there was a twinkle in her eyes as she pulled out what she’d brought him. It smelled delicious and Crowley’s stomach growled. “Oh, now you’re hungry.”

“Well–”

“No more talk about fucking!” She laughed. “You’re going to eat and then I’m supposed to walk you to the market and back. Or the garden.”

“Both?” Crowley pressed and she snorted.

“Why not? Give me a longer break from work.”

“Did you always want to be a healer?”

“God, no.” She tossed her long dark hair back. “But fate has a way of finding us, even when we least expect it.” Crowley hummed, nodding his head. She offered him a bite and he took it, ignoring the familiar sting of humiliation that came each time he couldn’t feed himself. He chewed carefully and swallowed.

“How long do you think until I heal enough to feed myself?”

“Aziraphale says you’ve been a model patient.” Anathema answered. “At least two more months though.”

“Goddammit.” He sighed.

“It’ll pass.” She consoled him. “You’re still welcome to come hang out with us and learn a thing or two. You don’t have to be stuck here with Aziraphale all the time.”

“I don’t mind being here with him though.” Crowley sighed. “S’irritating but true.”

“Well, be careful.” Ana cautioned. “He’s got his secrets and for good reason.” Crowley’s stomach dropped, feeling the assassin’s blade against his throat again.

“What kind of secrets?” He asked carefully, his throat suddenly dry. “Water, please?” She gave him some, studying him.

“I don’t even know them. I just heard my grandmother telling him to be honest with you.”

“Shit.” Crowley said weakly, his stomach turning as she offered him another bite. “He said he had to talk to me tonight.”

“Guess you might find out more about your host.” She shrugged, offering him another bite. His stomach twisted but he took the food, chewing and swallowing woodenly. He didn’t say much after that and she didn’t press. She filled him in on gossip she’d heard in town, mindless conversation that he appreciated more than silence, as they walked the garden. “Market?” She asked and he shook his head.

“Think I’ll take a nap. Thanks for coming.”

“Of course.” She smiled brightly. “I wouldn’t worry about it. I mean, he’s Aziraphale. He’s an advisor from the countryside. How bad can his secrets be?”

“Yea.” Crowley sighed. “Just don’t like not knowing.”

“Chin up.” She walked him inside, helped him piss (more humiliation), and then she left, waving as she departed. Crowley headed to his room and flopped back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He fell into an uneasy sleep and stayed asleep until his master and all his secrets came home.

 

Chapter 9: Revelations and Flashbacks

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called out from the doorway to his room. “I’m home.” It looked like it was dark out already if the fire in the other room was already lit.

“Just kill me now.” Crowley groaned in response.

“Did you sleep all day?” Bless him, Aziraphale was concerned about every little thing he did.

“I had lunch and talked with Ana.” Crowley grumbled, feeling as if he was somehow in trouble. “You didn’t say I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh, you’re not in trouble, Crowley. You’re just usually up when I’m home.”

“Yea, that’s the point. S’boring here alone. And I can’t fucking do anything by myself.” He sighed, eyeing the man in the doorway of his room. “And if I’m awake, I’m worrying about what you’re gonna tell me.”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale’s face crumpled.

“And I’m okay if you wanna fuck me, s’long you’re gentle. Not that I’m trying to tell you what to do, just, I figured I could compromise on that. I’m healed enough even if I can’t even wipe my own ass.” Aziraphale’s eyes widened a comical amount and he stammered.

“I wasn’t going to talk to you about sleeping together!” He blurted. “I was working up the courage to tell you that— I’m the assassin!” Crowley’s stomach dropped and his mind went blank. Stunned silence blanketed the room as they stared at each other.

“You can’t be.” Crowley whispered. “I’ve sworn to murder you.” He wasn’t sure if he was more horrified to find the assassin was the man he had started to feel safe with or at the thought that he might have to kill him someday.”

“I’m okay with that.” Aziraphale admitted quietly. “I want to make this all better somehow.”

“Well, you can’t!” Crowley cried. “And I’m not fucking killing you so you can skip off to your family! S’not fair! It’s not fucking fair! Why couldn’t it have been anyone else but you?!”

“I’m sorry.” Aziraphale whispered. “It was my job. It was my revenge. And then I almost let myself be distracted by… you. You were so pretty even just scrubbing the floors that I almost forgot what I was in the castle for.”

“I’ve been having nightmares about you.” Crowley’s horror showed plainly on his face. “Dreams where you kill me and taunt me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And then— then you have the audacity to comfort me!”

“I want to make things right between us! Agnes said honesty was the only way.”

“And your queen?” Aziraphale sighed in the face of Crowley’s quietly simmering rage.

“She told me to never tell you. The king… your king was my final mission as the assassin.”

“What about your books?” Crowley scoffed. He was a little mollified that Aziraphale had disobeyed his queen for him. Made him feel a little better.

“My father had a different vision for my life. I wanted to be a scholar and he wanted me to be a weapon.” Aziraphale shivered. “After he died, I tried to be the man he wanted me to be. I threw myself into training and killing because I thought it would numb the ache inside of me.” He swallowed hard. “I was wrong. Even with killing the man who commanded the armies to kill my family, I still just really miss. I still dream about trying to save my son and failing miserably each time. Killing the king didn’t make me feel better at all. And it led to events that ruined your life.”

“Yea, well, you didn’t tell those soldiers to make sport of me.” Crowley blew out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive you—“

“I wouldn’t ask that of you—“

“—but you’re the closest thing I have to feeling normal here. I don’t know if I want to kill you anymore.”

“Crowley—“

“You’re not forgiven.” Crowley snapped. “Not even close. You’re right. Your actions led to the ruining of my life. But unlike you, I do listen to people when they tell me revenge won’t fix this. I’ll still find a way to make you suffer, don’t worry, but I think I like the idea of you living better— spending the rest of your life in debt to me.” He sighed, sagging back against his pillows. “Go away.” He turned his head. “I don’t want to see you right now.”

“At least let me feed you and help you relieve—“

“I would rather piss myself than see you right now. Please leave.”

“Of course.” Aziraphale withdrew, closing the door behind him, and Crowley hid his face in his pillow, allowing himself to weep bitterly. He should have known his fortunes hadn’t improved. Fate had always been set against him, even from the time he was very young.

---

“I don’t wanna go to the castle with you today.” Crowley pouted up at his mother. “S’boring and the guards are mean.”

“I told you not to touch anything. S’not my fault you didn’t listen.” His mother laughed, tying her bright red hair up. “Just stay near me. I don’t want you running through the streets anymore. Those boys will get you into trouble if you’re not careful.”

“Humph.” Crowley crossed his skinny arms across his chest. But he followed his mother to the castle and stayed close to her while she worked… for a little while anyways. The morning passed by slowly and soon he wandered off in search of some enrichment.

Crowley wandered around the castle, keeping to the lower levels. While others might be annoyed to see a street urchin running around the castle— as long as he wasn’t on the upper levels then he wouldn’t get into too much trouble.

He peeked into a room, eyes widening when he saw the princes and princesses. They were sitting in a circle around an instructor. Crowley watched with wide eyes as the instructor pulled out a sharp weapon.

“What’s this?” Someone purred in his ear and he yelped as he was grabbed from behind. Crowley dangled from his captor’s grasp as he was dragged into the room. It was the eldest prince. The one who would inherit: the next Serpent King. 

Crowley was tossed on his ass in front of the royal heirs. He tried to scoot back but the instructor drew his sharp blade. Crowley was caught.

“Which servant do you belong to?” The crown prince laughed, tall and long for his sixteen years. “We should return you in one piece. She will be worried.”

“I’ll go back to her.”

“What’s her name?” The prince cocked his eyes, sharp eyes studying him. “I want her punished for failing to keep her brat in check!”

“M’sorry, I was— it’s my fault, not hers.” Crowley’s bottom lip trembled. 

“It’s her fault for having a brat like you. She should have thrown you out as soon as she gave birth to you.” The teenager grabbed him, yanking him close only to slap him across his face. Crowley cried out as he was hit again and again, blood trickling down his cut lip. “Street brat. Stay out.”

“Let him go.” An authoritative but quiet voice spoke up and the prince and the street urchin looked up to see the Serpent King standing there. The prince dropped Crowley and he fell. He got up and fled, hot tears burning his eyes as he ran as fast as his wobbly legs could go. Back to his mother. Begging her to take him home.

And so she did.

Chapter 10: A Familiar Quiet

Crowley woke up in the middle of the night, his bladder about to explode. He was hungry too.

“Y’gotta start learning how to do shit for yourself again.” He sighed to himself, forcing himself to sit up. He slipped out of his slings and felt around with his bandaged hands. “Y’can’t depend on anyone but yourself. You know that! But I guess you let him help you forget it for a minute.” He felt along the wall for the door and then let himself out once he found it.

After it took him fucking twenty tries with his messed up hand and no fucking good wrist. Forget the arm.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called out from where he sat in front of the dying fire. “Is that you?” As if he didn’t have the sound of the other man’s steps memorized by now.

“Shit!” Crowley jumped. “Why aren’t you sleeping?! War’s over— you don’t need to sneak around in the shadows anymore!” The anger resurfaced quickly as he was left to face the man who had taken everything from him. Even his trust.

“You’ve slept enough for the both of us.” Aziraphale sipped at his tea, staring at the embers before him. “I am not tired.”

“Well, you look exhausted.” It was a weak blow and Azirapale ignored it. Infuriating. Crowley sat at the table, fidgeting. He wasn’t going to ask for help but maybe Aziraphale would offer it all the same.

“Tea?” He offered and Crowley growled something affirmative.

“I can get it myself.” He forced the words out. Aziraphale sighed.

“That won’t make you heal faster.” Crowley looked up, glaring at him, even as he hunched over on himself.

“Let me have my pride just this once.” Aziraphale nodded before he tilted his head.

“I understand.” He got up quietly and headed into the kitchen, returning with a plate and a cup of tea. He placed it at the table and then returned to his seat by the fire. He didn’t look at Crowley or say anything else. It was like he was a shadow or a shell of himself. “You can feed yourself if you’re determined to be independent. But you will not undo Agnes’ hard work by rummaging around my kitchen.”

“Why didn’t you kill me?” Crowley asked around the mouthful of bread he shoved into his mouth. He ate like he was starving. Pride be damned, he wasn’t going to starve himself to prove a point. And Aziraphale always served him good food. “Back in the castle. You could have. You practically threatened it. So why didn’t you?”

“I don’t kill servants. Not if I can help it. You were just there to do your job. As was I.” Aziraphale rubbed his jaw, glancing over at him. The bags under his eyes were accentuated by the shadows caused by the fire. “I don’t like to kill outside of my target. Unless it can’t be helped. If it’s me or them. No collateral damage just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He look haunted. “Like the servants who raised me. Like my son.”

Crowley supposed he knew how that felt.

“Not because I’m pretty?” He jutted his jaw out. Aziraphale huffed quietly, a distant smile gracing his lips for a second. A wry one.

“That helped.” 

“I’m sure it did.”

“Just a smidge thought.” Aziraphale glanced his way.

“Well, you shouldn’t spare it another thought.” Crowley said through gritted teeth. “I’m sick of being judged on things I can’t change. Growing up, it was the fact I was poor and the child of a servant. Now, it’s my face and my body that get me in the most trouble.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Perhaps I should scar myself now and rid myself of the nuisance.”

“You’re safe here. No need to harm yourself further on my account. Unlike some people, I don’t need to act when I find someone attractive. I am content by myself.”

“And just the other day you were talking about how lonely you were.” Crowley scoffed. “Which is it?”

“I miss having family and friends.” Aziraphale answered. “Just because you’re pretty doesn’t mean I want you as anything more.” It was a cold answer and Crowley was puzzled by how much it stung. “I’m sorry.” His expression registered. “I do not mean to be unkind. I just– I do not know how to move forward from this.” He caught Crowley’s eyes. “What happened with your king… it was personal. But not directed personally towards you. And yet it affected you terribly all the same.” Crowley wasn’t sure if he was talking to him still or to himself now.

He wasn’t all that sure Aziraphale knew either. “I am sorry.” He whispered. “But sorry doesn’t make it better.”

“S’not a bad place to start.” Crowley grumbled. “Tell me something about yourself. Something other than your guilt. Can you teach me to use a sword?” The first time he’d seen one up close had been the day the prince had beat him— the bastard. “Once I heal, of course.”

“You’d want to learn?” Aziraphale asked, shifting to look at him better. “Come sit by the fire.”

Crowley did as he was told. The food was long gone and the tea half-drunk. He sat in the chair next to Aziraphale and glanced over at him.

“Yea, I was always curious about that stuff. Stumbled in on the princes and princesses getting a lesson and I fixated on it for a while. Thought if I was good with a blade then they wouldn’t laugh at me or hurt me.”

“How were you around the princes and princesses?” Aziraphale frowned.

“Mom was a servant at the castle. Sometimes she didn’t have a choice but to bring me in. I was a bit of a terror.” Crowley admitted meekly.

“I can only imagine.” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and for a second, it felt like nothing had changed between them. Like he wasn’t the monster who brought a kingdom to its knees. Crowley shuddered.

“The crown prince was awful. He liked to pick on me. Slapped me really bad a few times, made me bleed. His dad stopped him.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale listened. “I'm sorry. I would see why you’d defend him if he had defended you.”

“Yea.” Crowley sighed, turning his head to stare at the fire. “It needs a log.”

Aziraphale got up and placed one on the embers before he settled back in his chair. It was quiet between them. A familiar quiet— the comfortable one from before. Neither of them spoke, not wanting to ruin the moment. There would be more wars to fight in the future— they’d take the moment of peace for what it was for right now.

Chapter 11: A Life Lived Alone

Aziraphale woke up just before dawn to a chilled room. He yawned and glanced at the fire, noting that the embers hadn’t fully gone out. And then he noticed that Crowley hadn’t left. He slept in the chair next to Aziraphale, nearly spilling out of the side he leaned over. 

Aziraphale lit a candle and then retrieved a blanket from the closet, wrapping it around Crowley. And then he sank down to the floor to work on the fire.

Crowley’s shivering gave way to soft snores and Aziraphale appreciated the sound of someone else being around— the slow and steady breaths of another living creature. Feeling a little less like a ghost with each passing moment.

He should be used to being alone, only his blade and gardens to keep him company, but he wasn’t. And maybe that was why he’d wanted Crowley around as soon as he had seen him. Although he never would have set such a lovely thing on a lowly task like washing floors. Crowley was living, breathing art. Breathtaking to look at, soul-soothing to talk to. Curing something Aziraphale hadn’t known was wrong with him.

He was so achingly lonely. And all Crowley had to do was to breathe next to him in a quiet room and Aziraphale could find relief. That was all he needed. Especially now, with certain revelations between them.

Aziraphale would have to eventually tell the queen the truth about disobeying her order to not tell Crowley. But that would be a problem for another day. He just hoped she wouldn’t try to take Crowley away from him.

… he didn’t want to lose him.

Aziraphale had lived long enough to know though that it wouldn’t be up to him. Life had a way of taking people from him whether he wanted to lose them or not. Life had a way of making sure that he stayed alone.

---

“Father… May I attend the local school?” Aziraphale folded his hands behind his back and kept his eyes on the ground when his father turned around to look at him sharply. “I would like to get to know the villagers better.” He wanted some friends.

“You have the best tutors money can buy and then some.” His father had already turned away and Aziraphale’s heart sank. “Request denied.”

“Might some boys from the village visit then? I would like to meet more acquaintances.”

“You’re a Fell. This is your time to train and study. You will meet all the acquaintances you’ll need once I can present you at court. Solitude teaches us things that company cannot. You must learn to be alone with yourself before you can enjoy another’s presence.”

“Father–”

“Dismissed.” His father turned to look at him sharply. “I won’t hear about this again.”

“Yes, father.”

 

---

 

Crowley woke up under a comfortable blanket and a roaring fire and hummed thoughtfully to himself. These spring days were followed by cold nights. But nothing like the fierce winter he’d been forced to bare himself on the long journey here. He had come to appreciate warm clothes and roaring fires. The good food. The hot tea. The comfortable blankets. The quiet company.

He was growing softer here but Crowley was reluctant to give it up just yet. This small oasis of warmth and safety, even with the man who cut down his king at his back.

He turned his head to find Aziraphale watching him, sitting in the chair next to him. The light was faint outside but bright enough to see the man’s thoughtful expression.

“G’morning.” He offered, breaking the silence, and Aziraphale looked over at him carefully.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“A little stiff.” Crowley shrugged. “Thank you for the blanket.”

“You were shivering.” Crowley gave him a little glare and Aziraphale looked away.

“M’used to being cold. There was a lot of wind and snow on the way here. Do you want me to be grateful that you don’t parade me around naked and make me sleep without blankets so I suffer for my defiance?”

“No.” Aziraphale sighed. “I just want you to be comfortable.”

“Fine.” Crowley huffed, burrowing back under the blanket. They glanced at each other and then looked away.

“Breakfast?” Aziraphale offered quietly.

“I could eat.” Crowley could compromise a little.

“Be right back.” Aziraphale got up and retreated into the kitchen.

 

---

“Aziraphale, there are some boys outside asking if you can play.” His mother pulled him from his studies early one day. It was his birthday. And Aziraphale had to wonder if that was the only reason they had come to this compromise of sorts with his father.

Three boys were outside, waiting impatiently for him. They were grumpy and had a lot of inside jokes he didn’t understand but Aziraphale was just happy for a chance. A chance to make friends. The boys showed him some games but they were rough with him, shoving him down if the game was more physical. This went on for a few hours and then they headed back to the estate.

“Where’s our money?” The eldest of the boys demanded when Aziraphale’s mother asked them how their day had been. “He promised us gold if we played with him. And we want double. Little rich boy doesn’t even know how to play them right.” He jutted his chin out at Aziraphale. Aziraphale looked up at his mother with wide, blue eyes and she stared back at him with the same expression on her face.

“I didn’t know that.” She said quietly. “Aziraphale, go wash for dinner. I will see what is going on.”

“Don’t bother.” Aziraphale whispered. “He did it. We both know he did. He wanted me to learn a lesson.” A cruel lesson. No one from the village would be his friend now. They would only want his money. They would never see him as a person. The boy slipped inside and fled to his room, hot tears streaming down his face.

He was thrown into his physical training after that. Taught the way of the blade until he came of age. And then he was married off to another rich lord’s daughter. He would always be alone. His father had made sure of that. Isolated him to make sure he would only bend to his father’s influence and no one else’s.

Chapter 12: Sparks of Rebellion

The next few days were uneventful. A sort of quiet repairing happening between Aziraphale and Crowley as they got to know each other again without the assassin’s secret between them.

It was nice.

And then Aziraphale woke in the middle of the night to guards rummaging through his house. Crowley was in chains and was being taken out into the street.

“What is going on?”

“A rebellion has broken out back in Serpentis.” One of the other guards informed him. “We will be removing each of the placements and vetting them before deciding what to do with them.”

“I want him back.” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “The queen will hear about this.”

“The queen’s ordered it.” The guard answered sternly. “It’s for your safety.”

“Well, as she knows, I can—“

“I’m fine.” Crowley called back from the door. “Whatever is going on over there, I’m not a part of it. I’ve been here with you. Be back before you know it.” He managed a tight, little smile.

“I’ll get you back!” Aziraphale promised, his chest tightening. He knew how frightening this had to be for Crowley. And he wasn’t going to let him be alone with his fear without any hope. “I will get you back! I’ll go and see the queen right now—“

“S’okay.” Crowley shrugged. And then he was gone. The guards left a little while later and then Aziraphale was alone again. He hated it. The echoing of his own heartbeat. The emptiness of Crowley’s room. How when he finally did make food again, he would only be making enough for one.

“Crowley.” He whispered. “Come back.” 

 

---

 

Crowley was processed and locked up within the next few hours. At least he got to keep his slings and his clothes this time. Although he was already cold. The dungeon was damp and chilly. And he wanted to be back at Aziraphale’s cottage  already, under the blankets by the warm fire.

The next few days were full of nothing. Just blank bleakness. There were other prisoners but no one seemed to be in the mood to talk.

It seemed to be a slow process. They only took out one prisoner a day. Some came back and others didn’t. If Crowley was being honest with himself, it was a terrifying notion. But since he was usually in denial, he chalked it up to just being bored.

He slept mostly. Not well. Not well at all. But it gave him an escape that he so desperately needed now that he was back in a cage. Old memories were resurfacing and he found himself relying on witnessing certain executions more with each passing day.

Hastur, Ligur, and Dagon couldn’t hurt him again. They were dead.

And so far, none of the guards or soldiers had even looked at him for anything other than to count him at the end of the day.

When they all got their measly portions of dinner…

Crowley picked at it but couldn’t choke down more than a few bites. He stuck to his water portion, wincing at the metallic taste each time.

A few days later, Aziraphale showed up.

“The queen is mad at me.” He said quietly. “I will get you back though. I promise. Even if I have to barter with whoever she tries to put you with next.”

“You came to see me.” Crowley frowned, even as he eagerly took the bread Aziraphale had hidden under his robe.

“Good thing. You’re too skinny.” Aziraphale’s eyes gave away what he wasn’t saying. He was scared too. 

“Thanks.” Crowley rasped.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” Crowley shrugged. “I would have pissed her off at some point. Can’t help but ruin a good thing.”

“No, this is my fault.”

“Did you start the rebellion too?” Crowley asked tiredly.

“What? No, I–”

“I’m here because there are whispers of rebellion in the air, Aziraphale. Not because of you. You gave her the prize she wanted and she gave you yours. Now she’s got to make sure I’m not about to–” Crowley gestured towards him, dragging his thumb across his neck. Aziraphale had to chuckle and then Crowley couldn’t help but chuckle too. He would never admit it but he had been trying to get Aziraphale to smile. And it had worked.

“I’m glad your sense of humor is undamaged.” Aziraphale said quietly. “It will be much better once you’re out of here and back home with me.”

“Miss me already?” Crowley snorted. Aziraphale hung his head.

“Yes.” He admitted. “Very much. It’s much too quiet without you muttering under your breath and stalking around the place.”

“Hm.” Crowley grunted. “Have you thought about getting a cat or a dog?”

“Afraid I prefer you at this point.” Crowley’s eyes widened and he looked down at the bread in his hands.

“Thanks.” He said quietly. “I think I prefer being there over being here too.” It was the closest he would get to telling the other man that he missed him in his own way too but Aziraphale being that infuriating but soothing presence that he was… understood.

 

---

 

A few days later… the guards came for him.

He was brought in before a woman he didn’t recognize and the queen.

“What is your role at Aziraphale’s estate?” The queen asked him.

“I’m his servant.” Crowley answered with a weak shrug.

“Wow, the first one to know their place.” The other woman commented. “What’s your name?”

“Crowley.”

“Crowley what?”

“Crowley Anthony.” He sighed. 

“It says here your mother, Mariela, was a servant at the castle. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And then you were a servant at the castle after she died?”

“Yes.”

“There’s nothing here about your father.” Crowley didn’t hear a question so he stayed silent. His father was a sore subject in its own way. Especially since he never got to meet the man. He died fighting as a soldier of the Serpent King.

“You don’t want to talk about your father?” The queen narrowed her eyes at him.

“What is there to say? He died before I ever got the chance to meet him. He was a soldier.”

“Name?” The strange women pressed, looking up from her papers.

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “Last name was Anthony. That’s all I got.”

“There’s a Rafe Anthony in this division that would fit the timeline.” The woman murmured to the queen.

“What do you think about the crown prince?” The queen asked suddenly, still studying him. “The one leading this rebellion.”

“He’s a fucking prick.” Crowley sighed. “I never liked him.”

“If he tried to rally you—“

“I want nothing to do with that man. He’s a bully and, like I said, a huge prick.”

“Thank you.” He was waved away and ten guards took him from the castle to a building tucked away near the city wall. So much for heading back to Aziraphale’s.

He was taken inside the small wall that surrounded the building— his nose wrinkling at the perfumed smell.

“What is this place?” He asked the guard unshackling him.

“A training center. You’ll be placed once you graduate here. It’s merely a safety precaution. So you know what’s expected of you and your future master won’t have to—“

“Break me in?” He guessed. The guard snorted.

“You’ll know what to expect. It’ll help you adjust.”

“Sure.” Crowley pulled his robe around him a little tighter. He reeked in comparison to the perfume and he knew that would lead to them taking his clothes at some point and bathing him. And the thing about places like this… he’d rather not be naked at any given time.

Just in case. “Can you send Aziraphale a message and tell him where I am?”

“You are not assigned to a master currently.” The guard replied, straightening up. He took Crowley’s chains with him as he left.

No chains. No master. Crowley was starting to feel unprotected. Had the queen taken him from Aziraphale? Or had the other man given him up?

He’d find out. He’d get through whatever this place was going to do and then he’d find the fuck out.

Chapter 13: The Panel

Crowley was ushered inside of a room with two men and two women sitting behind a long table. They looked at him critically and he ducked his head down quickly. He was a servant. He knew how to blend in when he needed to.

“This is Crowley, Prisoner 357.” One of the women spoke up. He knew he looked like a mess. His clothes and his hygiene were in a state from the dungeons. All four of them lifted handkerchiefs to their nose and Crowley fantasized about flipping the table on them. Maybe even trapping them underneath.

They rattled on, spitting out recently grabbed facts about him and sharing them with each other.

“Came from the capital of Serpentis.”

“Served in the Serpent King’s household…. Er… scrubbing floors.”

“Born to a servant and a soldier.”

“Claims to have no loyalty to the Serpentine crown prince.”

“Well, I doubt he’s a traitor. Perhaps he just preferred to follow another of the children. Broke off into one of the more obscure factions.”

“Placement?”

“Aziraphale Fell has requested his return. Crowley was… payment for a job well done.”

“He’s not even the best advisor on the counsel.” 

 Crowley realized in that moment as they shared puzzled looks that Aziraphale had done more than defy his queen in telling him the truth. He’d told him a secret that no one else knew but the queen. That he was an assassin and a fucking good one at that. Everyone else thought he was just this brown-nosing advisor from another country. He’d put himself at risk to tell Crowley the truth because he thought Crowley was important enough to deserve it.

His chest felt a little warmer than it had before until the group looked at him.

“Strip.” The man commanded and Crowley’s blood ran cold.

“My master had these clothes made for me.” He whispered. “Please do not destroy them.”

“They reek. You reek.”

“I will wash them if I have to. Please. He spent good money on these.”

“Loyal, aren’t you?” And now Crowley’s chest ached, remembering the night Aziraphale had said something similar.

“So I’ve been told.” He sighed. “Please.”

“Strip or we’ll have you demoted to slave.” Crowley paled and did as he was told, struggling with the clothes with his injured arm and hand. A guard stepped forward and helped him as carefully as he could until Crowley stood in just his skin before the panel.

“Scrawny.”

“I doubt he’ll be carrying anything heavier than Aziraphale’s books.” Someone snorted and they all chuckled. Crowley felt two things: anger over the fact that they were clearly mocking the one man to show him consistent kindness in a while and relief that Aziraphale was somehow still his master. He could survive whatever this was if it meant getting returned to Aziraphale and his kindness.

All of this was just more humiliation.

“Get him to the baths.” One of the women waved him away. “Three meals a day for a week. We’ll have a healer come by to check the injuries and to change the soiled bandages.”

“Can it be Agnes Nutter please?” He asked quietly. “She’s the one who set the bones for me when I arrived.”

“You’ll get whoever we can find on short notice.” The woman raised an eyebrow. “Remember your place or you’ll be whipped back into line.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He ducked his head back down.

“A bit insolent, isn’t he?”

“Nothing a good beating can’t fix.”

“He’s probably just hungry and in pain. Once we tend to those needs I’m sure he’ll be more pleasant.”

“Don’t defend poor behavior. He’s not a child.”

“He’s been taken from his home.” The man on the end shrugged. “I would be upset too.”

“I’m asking the queen to take you off this project. If a servant wants to be belligerent, I say to make them a bed slave and be done with it.” The woman in the middle sniffed indignantly.

“And that’s exactly why the queen put me on this project.” The man on the end sighed. “We want them to join us, not hate us. There’s no use for bed slaves. Just say you can’t find a willing lover and move on.” The other woman covered a snort and the other man snickered. The woman’s cheeks turned hot and she glared at the man at the end.

“The queen will hear about this.” She threatened.

“Yes, she will.” He replied, unbothered. “Take 357 away. He doesn’t need to hear all this. And even out his hair while you’re at it. Keep him looking presentable. I know his master. He will expect any and every member of his household to be treated fairly.”

“He’s from Serpentis. He’ll get whatever we deign to give him—“

Crowley didn’t hear the rest of what they said, following the guard out of the room.

“Sorry about them.” The guard muttered. “I’m Newt. I know Agnes and Aziraphale…” He glanced over at Crowley who made sure his expression didn’t say much of anything. “I can at least get Agnes in here for you.”

“And what will you want in return?” Crowley asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Tell Aziraphale I helped you? I don’t think he thinks I’m capable of much. And while I’m hopeless when it comes to a lot of things, I’m not a lost cause.”

“Sure.” Crowley shrugged. Newt led him into a room that was nothing but a hot, steaming bath.

“Your attendants will be along shortly. Erm, watch them, they can get a little handsy.”

“Thanks for the warning.” Crowley hunched over. He slid into the water, closing his eyes at the welcomed warmth. It wasn’t Aziraphale’s estate but it would banish the cold from his bones and the stench from his skin. One day at a time. That’s all he had to survive. Just one day at a time.

He sank deeper into the water, up to his chin and closed his eyes, taking in a moment of peace. There would be new battles in the future, especially in this place. He just had to survive. And then he’d get back to Aziraphale’s estate and all would be well again. He just had to survive.

Someone splashed into the water next to him, giggling as they touched his arms.

“My, you’re a looker, aren’t you?”

“Hands off.” He growled, opening his eyes to glare at them. And then he faltered in his scowl, realizing how young they were. “You should not be working here.”

“My mistress commands me.”

“You’re a slave?”

“My name is Muriel.” They stuck out their tongue and he had to laugh.

“Sorry, Muriel. Sorry about your mistress.”

“She likes to watch.”

“Do you like to be watched?” Crowley asked so quietly that the two of them. They balked, gesturing towards the door where the woman from the panel watched them with narrowed eyes.

“No.” They whispered.

“You’re just a kid.”

“M’old enough.”

“Doesn’t make it okay.”

“M’ a slave. I am bound to my mis–”

“Fuck her.” Crowley hissed and Muriel giggled in response.

“I have to wash you now.”

“Do not touch my cock.”

“Ew.” They snorted. “As if I’d want to.” Crowley laughed, relaxing somewhat as they slipped away and returned with wash clothes, soap, and oils that promised to return him to his former glory. And maybe ease the itching that had returned to his scalp. “I’ll look after you.” They promised.

“And I, you.” Crowley replied. “At least enough to keep your mistress off your back.”

“Thank you… what’s your name?”

“I’m Crowley.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“S’nice to meet you too.”

Chapter 14: Careful Visits

Summary:

A 2 for 1 today! It feels like ages since I’ve been able to get two chapters done in one day lol.😂

Crowley found a simple rhythm to his new life at the training center. A few weeks went by and he managed to keep his wits about him and his head above the proverbial water. His hand and wrist had spared him the more grueling work and his position as Aziraphale’s servant gave him protection from the bedwarming lessons. It had helped considerably when Aziraphale had shown up and thrown a hissy fit that had the panel and all their instructors hurrying to soothe him.

Aziraphale was here now, sitting across from him with one of his beloved books. He had come back. He seemed a bit awkward when it was just the two of them but now that he knew his presence protected Crowley– he seemed to make himself more known.

“Thank you.” He said quietly, scooting the tiniest bit closer to his master.

“Who is this tame creature and what has he done with Crowley?” Aziraphale teased gently. Crowley smiled, barely, but it was there. Aziraphale couldn’t help but notice how he scooted closer again, almost close enough to have their legs touching. And then Crowley leaned into him slightly and Aziraphale pressed his lips together, trying to conceal his pleased smile.

“How pissed off is the queen?” Crowley murmured in a low voice. Aziraphale had let it slip that he had told her. And while it had been confirmed that the rebellion in Serpentis was why he’d been taken in the middle of the night– Aziraphale had admitted that he thought the only reason Crowley was still at the center and not back at his estate was because Aziraphale had told Crowley the truth.

“Very.” Aziraphale tilted his head, his eyes never leaving the page. “She will not take you from me though. Loyalty is important to her and I have given my price.” His full attention was on the man next to him though and how he leaned against Aziraphale a little more when one of the women from the panel walked past, shooting him a dirty look.

“Ah, Aziraphale, back again. I did not realize you and your servant were so close. Perhaps I will have him made into the perfect bed warmer for you.” She sneered. Aziraphale straightened up and looked her in the eyes with an offended huff.

“I would suggest you never say anything like that again.”

“Or what?” She barked out a wretched laugh.

“You will find yourself without a job… or a head.” Aziraphale stared her down. “Your choice.” Crowley turned his head and rested it against Aziraphale’s shoulder. The movement was small, the woman probably didn’t even register it, but Aziraphale jumped slightly at the open show of trust.

“Y-you can’t do that.”

“Watch me.” Aziraphale smiled, sharp and bright. “I look out for those under my protection. Those you would seek to exploit. I’d watch your step.”

“The queen will hear about this.”

“Wonderful.” Aziraphale’s smile didn’t falter and she hurried off, not seeking another fight with the queen’s beloved advisor. She’d been warned by the queen once after the fight on the panel. One more warning and the queen had threatened to put her through the training center. Her! The audacity!

 

Aziraphale watched her go before he very carefully leaned his head against Crowley’s.

“She’s gone.”

“Thank you.” Crowley shuddered. “She’s awful.”

“What’s her name?”

“Trina.”

“She goes around introducing herself by her given name?” Aziraphale’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Astonishing.”

“No, I don’t know any of their names. They didn’t introduce themselves. She…” Crowley trailed off which meant Aziraphale wasn’t going to like what he said next. “I know her slave, Muriel. They’re too young to be the kind of slave she uses them for.” Crowley whispered. “S’not right.”

“I’ll look into it.” Aziraphale promised him. “Also, I think I found the woman you were looking for.”

“Nara?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale nodded. “She was given to a friend of Agnes’. I am looking into seeing if I can acquire her instead. I will free her and she can stay with us if all goes well.”

“Thank you.” Crowley breathed, his chest feeling less tight at the good news. “How long do I have to stay here?”

“Until the queen deems me punished enough.” Aziraphale said with a wry smile. “I understand why she is upset but you– being honest with you was important to me. I want you to build a life here that feels safe and I couldn’t do that for you by keeping secrets.” Crowley’s smile was faint but then he leaned back against Aziraphale’s shoulder, humming in response. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Of course.” Crowley replied. “And now I know the truth.”

“Now we can build something honest.”

“Yes.” Crowley whispered. “I just need to get back to your estate. And then it will be all right.” It sounded more like a mantra for Crowley than a statement for Aziraphale. “I don’t want to be here any longer.” Aziraphale longed to comfort him but didn’t know what ways of comforting him might be considered acceptable. He could just ask but that seemed even more terrifying.

“I will petition the queen again.” Aziraphale assured him. “Newt is looking out for you. He sends reports each night.”

“Can we go live somewhere else after this?” Crowley whispered. “Somewhere they can’t just snatch me back up whenever they want to punish you?”

“I will see what I can do.” Aziraphale promised. He gathered his courage and wrapped an arm around Crowley’s shoulders, giving him a little squeeze. “Hang in there, Crowley. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“You’ll visit again?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Agnes says I can try my hand without all the wrappings soon.” The cut on his arms had healed to pink scar tissue. His arms were bare, dressed in a simple outfit that all the trainees had to wear. A wrapped sleeveless shirt and a pair of loose trousers. His was a slate blue that made him look paler than he was. Aziraphale wanted to wrap him back up in his robes, let him cover himself back up in yards of fabric.

The bare arms certainly made his injuries stand out. And Crowley hated it– two of his vulnerabilities on display. “I’ve given you quite the list. Can you handle all of that in the next two days?”

“I’ll come tomorrow.”

“Nah.” Crowley said quickly. Too quickly. “She’s noticed. Best to take a little space or she’ll think I am your bed warmer.”

“You’re my friend.”

“Friend.” Crowley breathed, his voice pitching a bit too high. Like he couldn’t believe it. Like he might deny it. “Wow, don’t say that to her. Her head might explode.”

“Saves me the trouble of cutting it off.” Aziraphale smiled cheekily and Crowley made a delighted sound.

“Aren’t you just a bit of a bastard?”

“And don’t you like it?” Aziraphale’s smile grew.

“S’not bad.” Crowley smiled.

“I have to head out. I promised the queen I’d meet with her this afternoon.” Aziraphale glanced at the sun in the sky. “I’m probably already late.”

“Thanks for coming.” Crowley stood up and moved away from him. “See you next time.” He gave Aziraphale a little bow in case anyone was around and then he hurried towards his room without a backwards look.

“Until next time.”

Chapter 15: Freed Hands

“Agnes!” Crowley was relieved to see her at his door about a week later. Aziraphale hadn’t come back yet and it had made him far more nervous than he cared to admit. The man wasn’t about to give him up but there were other powers at play here. People with more power than Aziraphale did. He could wield a blade but these powers commanded armies.

But he had given him a lot to work on… Aziraphale just had to be busy with everything, right?

Right.

Crowley didn’t let himself think it could be anything else.

“Good morning, Crowley. Aziraphale sends his greetings too. He’ll be here as soon as he can. Hopefully in the next few days.” Crowley’s heart sank at having to wait even longer to see Aziraphale. He would never tell the man to his face but he missed his presence. His safety. Hell, he might even miss him.

“Oh.” Crowley nodded. “Thanks.”

“I was surprised to see that he is planning on moving once he gets you back but then I thought about how you ended up here and it makes sense.”

“Yea?” Crowley brightened. “He found a place outside the city?”

“That’s where he is right now. He’s having it built.” Agnes whispered conspiratorially. “But you didn’t hear that from me. He’ll probably want to surprise you. You know, I think he’s wanted to leave the city for a long time but until you came along, he wasn’t ready to do it. I’m glad the two of you have been good for each other.”

Crowley ducked his head down, grunting something unintelligible, but Agnes saw the smile he tried to hide. “You two are sweet.” Agnes chuckled quietly. “Now let’s free that hand and see how it’s working now.” She motioned for him to come sit down and he did, sitting on his bed. She pulled over a chair and carefully undid her previous work until his hand was uncovered. “I’ll tell them what I’m telling you. Don’t push it. Don’t start lifting all sorts of heavy things. You’ll need to rebuild some strength.”

“Okay.” Crowley stared at his hand, holding it open. It was a shade paler than the rest of him and he was scared to try to bend the fingers, recalling the awful sound they had made each time they were broken. “Never thought I’d see it put back right.” He admitted, still staring at it. Agnes took the healed hand in her hands and carefully, closed each finger with her own. Crowley was still staring, waiting for the flash of pain that never came.

She released his hand and he released the breath he had been holding, cradling his hand under his chin. “Thank you, Agnes.” He breathed a bit more tearfully than he cared to admit.

“You’re welcome. We’ll give the wrist two more weeks to be safe but I will just do a light dressing on it today. You won’t need all the heavy stuff anymore. That one was healing before I got to it.” She smiled over at him as he blinked away his tears. “You’re healing.” She assured him and he felt the affirmation in more ways than one. He was healing. And it was a funny thing. He had been so sure that he wouldn’t… that he couldn’t. And now… now it all felt possible somehow. Healing. A life. And it had to do with Aziraphale and the people he made sure to surround Crowley with. “I’m proud of you.” Agnes whispered and Crowley ducked his head down again. His hair was growing out more, still short, but more vibrant and thick than her last visit. Whoever was looking after Crowley kept it shaped well.

“Yea, yea.” Crowley shrugged but he looked over at her and gave her a rare smile. “Tell Aziraphale to hurry his ass back here.”

“You can tell him that yourself.” She laughed.

“If you’re done in there, Agnes, I need you to look after my slave.” Trina called from the hallway. Agnes saw how quickly the smile fled from Crowley’s face at just the sound of her voice. She would be telling Aziraphale about that, however. “She got a little too greedy at the celebration last night. Too many–”

“I’m with a patient.” Agnes shut the door in her face. “I’ll help them the next chance I get.” She went to apologize to Crowley but he was up, reaching for her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her close, whispering furiously in her ear.

“If it’s Muriel, can you help her get away from Trina? Anything has to be better than this. I know she’s old enough to be a slave, but barely. Too young for all of this. No one should be owned and passed around like–“

“I get it.” She nodded. “And we’ll do what we need to do to help them. But you’ve got to focus on you— protecting yourself. Don’t give that woman an opportunity to corner you or punish you. She’ll take it and then some.”

“Don’t I know it?” Crowley deadpanned and Agnes frowned. 

“Had she already?” She asked. “Hurt you, I mean.”

“S’fine.”

“Crowley…”

“Nothing you can fix.” Crowley gave her a hard look. “She wants Aziraphale to challenge her. I won’t give her that chance.”

“You’re protecting him.” Agnes realized. “That’s… sweet.”

“Not what you expected, huh.” Crowley smirked.

“No, honestly. You’ve surprised me and that— that doesn’t happen often.”

“I’ll take the win. I could use it.” Crowley huffed.

“You okay?”

“M’fine.”

“Okay.”

---

More days passed and still Crowley waited for Aziraphale.

Trina was angry at him.

Muriel was gone. Safe. Free. Crowley not so much. His back ached from the beating Trina had ordered but he kept his head down. Having a hand free was a relief. And then a couple more weeks passed. Still no Aziraphale. He did get a message through Newt that he’d been sent away on business. Whether that was books or blade, well, Newt wasn’t able to specify.

“Hey, you’re Crowley, right?” He looked up from the garden he was weeding. Both arms were free and he’d been started on more physical labor. He didn’t mind the garden. But he wanted to get out of here.

“Who is asking?” Crowley asked warily, raising his eyebrows while glancing up at the stranger. He had dark curls and green eyes. A handsome enough face that promised that he knew how to cause some trouble and how to get away with it.

Crowley was sick of trouble.

“I’m Luce.” A hand was thrust in his face and Crowley turned, rejecting the hand shake. 

“That’s nice.”

“Haven’t seen you out here.”

“I’m new.” Crowley ground out. One of the guards was looking their way and he would prefer it if they didn’t. Something about the trainees making friends didn’t seem to sit well with those in power over them.

“I’m from Serpentis too. Thought we could talk.” This stranger tried again. Crowley wasn’t falling for this shit. He was getting back to Aziraphale one way or another.

“We’re all from Serpentis. You don’t see me running around and chatting to everyone.” Crowley rolled his eyes, snatching another weed from the dirt.

“You could be a little nicer!” Luce groused at him. “It’d be nice to meet some people here.”

“I don’t know you. I don’t owe you anything.” Crowley snapped. “Leave me alone.”

“I—“ Luce was offended now, about to go off, when thankfully he was interrupted.

“Is everything all right?” The guard came to stand next to Luce and Crowley looked back at the dirt, looking for more weeds. He pulled one out carefully, roots and all before he tossed it into the pile to be burned.

“Yea, I was just asking for directions.” Luce said quietly. “Looking for the latrine.”

“Ask a guard next time.” The guard nudged him along the path with the end of his spear. “It’s past the trees.”

Luce looked back at Crowley but Crowley didn’t look at him. He couldn’t afford to get close to anyone here. He just had to get back to Aziraphale.

Chapter 16: To Have Some Company

Crowley was eating dinner at an empty table when Luce found him again. Most of the other trainees had found groups to sit with but Crowley preferred to sit alone. Especially with how the guards kept a heavy eye on those with friends. Being a loner wasn’t always the most companiable way to live but here, in technically enemy territory, it was safer. Especially with the rebellion.

He heard through the whispers that the rebellion was real and that Crispus was garnering a lot of support back in Serpentis. Even those the queen moved out there to replace the ones she’d taken seemed to favor him. And that made Crowley wonder what kinds of secrets she was hiding.

No one had ever been under the impression that the Serpent King hadn’t done terrible things to become king. That was the way of power in Serpentis. It was what they expected. But here, the queen did her dirty work in the shadows by another’s blade and then smiled and acted gracious to the people that she’d brutally conquered.

Crowley honestly suspected that she kept some of the nasty soldiers mixed in with the good at this point. Like Trina on the panel and at the center. To remind them that she was the ‘good’ keeping the evil at bay but all in all, was the root cause of it if anyone dated to look at her and her actions closely. She didn’t deserve Aziraphale’s loyalty and Crowley had half the mind to tell Aziraphale just that.

Maybe he would. Once they were safe at the new estate.

“Hey, asshole.” Crowley looked up and scowled at the other man as he sat down across from him.

“Sit somewhere else.” He hissed and Luce laughed, shaking his head.

“Tables are full.” There were seven open tables by a quick count but Crowley knew Luce wouldn’t be so easily dissuaded. He’d found something he liked. And unfortunately, it was Crowley. “Why are you so opposed to making friends?”

“S’safer. They’re always watching us.” Crowley mumbled quietly. Luce looked around the room and nodded.

“Don’t do their dirty work for them.” He retorted. “Don’t isolate yourself.”

“How come I haven’t seen you around before yesterday?”

“Fresh from the dungeons.” Luce grimaced. “Do you think they’ll let me review them?”

“Maybe ask for a suggestion box on how to make them more hospitable.” Crowley couldn’t stop the comment in time and Luce looked delighted to hear him snark at their ‘hosts.’

“Maybe I’ll do just that.” Luce stretched out and got comfortable, digging into his food. The food was nourishing but the portions were small. With the more physical labor that he did, the more Crowley went to bed hungry at night.

“Why are you trying to make friends with me?”

“You let Theo fuck you.” Luce gave him an unabashed grin. “I’m lonely and horny. I wouldn’t mind it if you let me fuck you too.” Crowley snorted even as a flush settled on his cheeks, the heat sinking into his bones. “Unless you’re just a fucking traitor now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“They said you let the soldiers fuck you too. Even got one pregnant.” Crowley’s stomach dropped and then twisted, making him almost regret eating tonight. He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to talk about that! How the hell had Luce even heard that?! He swallowed down the panic threatening to hold him down by the throat.

“I didn’t let them do anything.” Crowley dropped his gaze onto his almost empty bowl. “They took what they wanted and made me unable to stop them. Couldn’t feed myself for weeks because of them.”

“Well– if you wanna get back on the horse–” Luce tried to offer his cock but Crowley wasn’t interested.

“I don’t.” He snapped. “Just leave me alone if that’s what you’re after.”

“Well, I also wanted to talk to you about something else.”

“No.” Crowley sighed. “I think I’m all done talking to you.”

“We both know Crispus will fail.” He hissed and Crowley froze, glancing at the guards. If they were caught talking about this here, it would be more than their backs. “He doesn’t have the backing the people are looking for and we both know it.”

“His dad smartened up to him. What can I say?”

“You worked there. You must have heard who the king named as his heir after he disowned Crispus.”

“I didn’t.” Crowley shook his head, whispering quietly. “They were going to announce it in a few days and then the attack happened. That secret went with the king and whoever he named his heir.”

“You think they’re dead?”

“Why else haven’t they come forth?” Crowley could think of several reasons but he kept his mouth shut. For all he knew, Luce was just looking for hope where there was none.

“Fuck.” Luce breathed. “Fine. Thank you.” And then he left, leaving Crowley all alone. Crowley left a few moments later, his heart racing too fast to let him finish his meager portion. He was going to bed. And then he’d forget that conversation ever happened. Maybe Crispus would be dead by morning and then they wouldn’t have to worry about this rebellion anymore.

But another part of him wanted the rebellion to succeed. To free them all. He wouldn’t live under this queen. The assassin wasn’t the enemy he wanted him to be… but the queen… the queen could be.

 

---

That night, Aziraphale sent another message. He’d be home soon and then come hell or high water, he was taking Crowley home.

Crowley would bet money that Newt told him about what Trina had done. He did appreciate that Aziraphale wanted to keep him safe but there wasn’t anywhere safe for Crowley. Not really. The estate was the only place he’d been able to pretend. 

Aziraphale coming back was good news though. Especially with Luce sniffing around. Guys like him always found a way to get what they wanted. And Crowley was tired of fighting. Had half a mind to just lie down and take it already. Get it over with.

Yes, Aziraphale’s return was definitely something to look forward to. Crowley just hoped he’d get to stay with him for a little longer this time.

 

---

 

Crowley kept his head down and kept to himself. He worked in the gardens, closer to the fields this time. He didn’t feel like they’d taught him much of anything— just instilled a terror that they could take him again and again if he displeased them. Or if Aziraphale pissed the queen off again.

He worked on pruning the trees the next day, oddly delighted by the orchard. The trees were in full blossom and for once, since leaving Aziraphale’s estate, something seemed magical. 

He was back in the orchard the next day when Luce found him.

“I’m on orchard duty today too.” He said cheerfully when he saw Crowley there, stepping over to his side confidently. 

“Great.” Crowley’s shoulders slumped. “Are you going to chatter all day?”

“I just might if it will annoy you that much.” Luce gave him a charming grin, elbowing him gently. Crowley managed a weak smile. “What’s wrong?” Luce frowned and even if he was probably just faking it… it was nice to have someone around who seemed like they cared.

“Lashing is taking a bit long to heal.” He said quietly. “I’m sick of something hurting all the time.”

“Don’t think we’ll ever stop hurting.” Luce replied quietly, nudging him again in a gesture of encouragement. “And not just physically. We’ve lost too much.”

“Yea.” Crowley shrugged. He set to work on a tree and Luce made sure to stay near him. He didn’t talk and Crowley appreciated the quiet company even though it made him miss Aziraphale’s company more.

It was just nice to have someone around.

Chapter 17: Moonlit Rescue

Summary:

TW: Crowley is attacked. It is implied that he physically injured during an attempt to sexually assault him. The attempt is not successful.

“See? I’m not so bad.” Luce elbowed Crowley. They’d worked the rest of the week together and Crowley sometimes even spoke to him without his normal grumbling remarks. “I think you don’t mind me hanging out at all. I think you would rather like it by now.” Crowley had to wonder if this was how Aziraphale felt about him– keeping him around because it was better than being by himself.

Gods, he hoped Aziraphale liked him at least a little more than he liked Luce. He was just tired of being alone and Luce was from home. And talked about places that were familiar instead of all this strange newness that none of them had wanted.

They were eating together now in the dining hall. Crowley hadn’t sat alone for a week now and he… he was okay with that. He didn’t mind having Luce around… most of the time. He just didn’t like it when Luce brought up sex. Or when he’d talk incessantly about the rebellion even though guards were nearby. Or how he’d try to soothe Crowley’s worries like he had any power in this place. None of them had any power in this place. Crowley was just trying to get through it but he had to wonder if Luce was trying to end it here.

“You’re still not getting in my pants.” Crowley snorted. Luce grinned.

“Not yet, you mean.” Luce smirked. He was a cocky shit but Crowley didn’t mind it so much now. Well, other than when it grated on his nerves. It was just nice to have an almost friend. Or at least a regular companion.

“Not ever.” Crowley grumbled. He froze for a moment, looking at the guards passing by.

“We’re safe.” Luce tried to reassure him.

“No, we’re not.” Crowley retorted, snappishly. Gods, he just wished Luce would take this seriously. “None of us are safe. All because of where we are from. Who our king was.”

“Did you know him?” Luce asked.

“Not really.” Crowley shrugged. “He… looked out for me a few times, in passing, but I didn’t know him outside of my capacity as a servant.”

“Crowley…” Luce gave him a look. “You really expect me to believe that? No one could be in the same room as you and not want to get to know you.”

“Ew.” But Crowley gave him a small smile. “He definitely wasn’t like that. That man was for the ladies through and through. At least, if the maids and the ladies in court were to be believed. Think he just felt bad for me and my mum. My dad died fighting and–”

“The Serpent King?” Luce scoffed, disbelieving. “Don’t think he felt sorry for anyone, kid, sorry.” Crowley jerked back, stung. “What? He was literally the best conqueror of our time. He wasn’t weeping over orphans.”

“He had a heart. Somewhere.” Crowley sighed. “He lived up to the rest of the rest of the stories, yea, but every now and then–”

“Oi.” Luce rolled his eyes. “The loyalty. So touching! I’m surprised you didn’t offer yourself up to die with him.”

“Fuck off.” Crowley turned away. “He saved me when no one else did. I owe him something. Even with him gone.”

“Oh, boo hoo. He’s dead, Crowley, and you’re alive. You have a chance to build a life. We can run away to the sea together and fuck by the shore.” Crowley groaned and Luce laughed. “Or you can bed that master you’ve been pining for. Serve him for the rest of your days. It’ll be a quiet, pampered life. And perhaps you deserve some rest and pampering. But our people— our country—“

“I’ll accept the king’s death when you accept our defeat. Fight for yourself if you need to fight for something.”

“I just might—“ Luce gazed heavily over at him. “If I come to your door tonight and knock four times, will you let me in?”

“No.” Crowley snorted.

“And if I find a way in any way?”

“Then how are you different from our enemy?” Crowley asked quietly and Luce fell silent.

“Fine.” He stood up. “See you tomorrow.”

“Luce…” But he was gone. And for that Crowley was relieved. He finished eating slowly and then headed to his room, double checking the locks on the door and the window before he got ready to sleep. He wasn’t taking any chances.

 

---

Aziraphale swayed on his horse, urging her towards the training center. He should sleep. He should go see Agnes to check his wounds. But the idea of leaving Crowley a second later in that place made his skin crawl. He would get Crowley back and then they would go to the cottage. Aziraphale would sleep. And then he would go see Agnes. He’d patched himself up well enough.

The queen had lied to him.

She had told him that the Serpent King would be his last mission. It had been what they agreed upon when he revealed his secret skill set to her. Of course, she had smoothly said that if Crispus’ rebellion took hold then he would be the next Serpent King. And the snake could never have a head again. Not with how close they were to the gold mines.

She’d never been focused on ending a tyrant’s reign. She’d just wanted his wealth for herself. For her empire. And she had lied and used him to do it.

Aziraphale didn’t know what to do.

 

He was going to get Crowley back though. She would not hold the other man over his head like this. Crowley deserved better. He deserved peace, quiet, and healing. Comfort. Care. Someone to watch over him again. Someone who could keep him safe.

Aziraphale hadn’t done too well so far but he was going to make it right this time. Even if he had to whisk him off to an estate half-built in the forest to do so.

He slowed his horse down as he approached the center. The full moon was bright, shining down over the path. The evergreen boughs glistened in the moonlight but the scene was far from peaceful. Even tired, his ears picked up the sound of a disturbance. Two people fighting. One cried out and then one of the ran towards him. He dismounted and drew his blade, heading towards them as well.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley. Oh, fuck, it was Crowley! He sounded terrified as he fled from a shadowy assailant that was keeping to shadows of the trees. Aziraphale hurried towards him, blade ready, keeping an eye at the shadow tailing his Crowley.

“I’m here!” He called out and then Crowley cried out again, pitching forward and falling into a bright patch of moonlight. Aziraphale realized his clothes were half torn from his body as he fell, collapsing in a heap at his feet. His back was exposed, lined with lash marks that should have never fallen on his shoulders. “I’m here, Crowley.” He said quietly. He noticed that Crowley was favoring his side, blood staining his fingers, and his heart lurched in his chest. He rounded towards the assailant who came at him quickly… but not quickly enough.

Luce’s head fell from his shoulders before his body toppled next.

“Oh, shit, fuck.” Crowley shuddered. Aziraphale removed his own robe and wrapped it around Crowley who put it on quickly and tied it tightly around his waist. “He was– he was gonna–” And then he bowed forwards, dry heaving as his fingers clawed into the soft earth. “He’s dead. He’s fucking dead.” Crowley whispered, crawling closer to him and pressing his face against Aziraphale’s knee. “Thank you. Picked a hell of a time to show up.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

“Where were you?” Crowley gazed up at him, searching his eyes. There was nothing but honesty between them as Aziraphale answered him as he would answer his liege.

“Serpentis.” He sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. He cleaned his blade and sheathed it. “Crispus is dead.”

Chapter 18: Early Mornings and Exhausted Sleep

Aziraphale had made him some tea but Crowley couldn’t sleep. Aziraphale had cleaned his wounds and bandaged him up, promising a visit to Agnes after he talked with the queen. Crowley was back in his old bed and every time he would start to nod off he would hear a sound and imagine the soldiers coming back for him. He wouldn’t be dragged back to the dungeons in the middle of the night. He couldn’t.

Aziraphale had been prepared for that. He had made him a little cot near the fire in the sitting area. But that was too exposed. Crowley sat perched on the side of the cot, staring at the corner nearest the door. Were they coming for him? Was that the sound of heavy booted feet coming with chains and torches?

Crowley didn’t know if anyone knew the constant state of terror he lived in now. Waiting for something terrible to happen again and again and again.

He was so tired. Exhausted down to his bones. Like he could lie down on the floor and sleep right there for days on end but he couldn’t bring himself to lie down. He didn’t dare let down his guard. Aziraphale was sleeping like the dead… he was hurt and exhausted too. Crowley could be the one to watch for right now.

Another hour passed and Crowley needed to sleep. His mind was racing and he felt like he was about to dissolve into tears with how tired he was in every single fucking way. He just needed to feel safe enough to lay down. Then he could close his eyes for a little.

He glanced at the door to Aziraphale’s room, a reckless thought filling his mind until it was all he could think about. He could hide in Aziraphale’s room. The soldiers would at least knock first if he was in the advisor’s room and Aziraphale would give him at least a few minutes to wake up before he was whisked off.

… that could work.

He slipped inside quietly, instantly relieved by the slow, steady sounds of Aziraphale’s breathing. Tears pricked his eyes and he blinked them away as he felt along the wall to the side of Aziraphale’s bed. He tucked himself there with a pillow and a blanket from the cot. And then after a moment, he fell into an exhausted sleep.

 

---

 

Aziraphale woke up to the sound of firm knocking at the door. He blinked, gasping softly as he tried to move. He would definitely need to see Agnes today. And have her check Crowley too.

But he had Crowley back and that thought made him smile. A smile that fled when he remembered how he’d been reunited with Crowley. He didn’t know all that happened but he could see how it had changed Crowley. How unsettled he was now, barely at peace in his own skin. 

Crowley needed stability and he needed it now.

“I’m coming.” He groused as he made his way to the door, favoring his stiff body. He opened the door to find the queen standing there. He gave her a look and she raised her hands.

“I come in peace.”

“I’m not letting you take him again.” Aziraphale said firmly, ready for a debate.

“I come in peace.” She sighed. “Can I come in?”

“Fine.” Aziraphale gave her a hard look and she signaled her guards to wait outside as she followed him inside. He closed the door to Crowley’s room, noting the empty bed. And then he closed the door to his room, not noticing the hint of a blanket along the side of his bed. 

He hoped Crowley hadn’t gone far. He prayed he hadn’t hurt himself again although Aziraphale would understand why if he did.

“It went too far at the training center.” She said quietly, taking the offered cup of tea a few minutes later. “I’ve come to apologize. My anger blinded me.”

“You knew he’d been raped.” Aziraphale hissed. “And then last night I find him fleeing, clothes torn and him terrified.”

“It wasn’t going to get that far. My operative,” she tilted her head to the side, acknowledging how she was revealing information she’d rather not, “was told to apply certain pressure but to not go all the way. We had to know if he was telling the truth.”

“Telling the truth about what?” Aziraphale scoffed. “What could be so important to justify retraumatizing him like that?!”

“We believed he knew who the king made his heir. Servants hear many things and he had access to the king’s rooms. He had to have heard something…

Crispus was not the intended heir to the throne although he made his bid known. But if another was to step forward with the king’s approval… that rebellion would be much harder to contain. They're fierce people.” She said with begrudging respect. “If we can keep them from rallying behind such a figurehead… we might get away with this.”

“And did he confess?” Aziraphale asked, raising his eyebrows.

“No. His story stayed consistent.” She admitted. “I see no reason to keep testing him.”

“Then enough of this! He’s about to have a breakdown and I won’t stand for it. I asked for him and you’ve given him. Let that be that.”

“You killed my operative.” She informed him. Aziraphale recalled Crowley’s terror and couldn’t manage to scrap of repentance. He didn’t regret what he’d done at all. Crowley deserved to be protected.

“He attacked a member of my household. I’ll do it again if you send another one.”

“Careful, Aziraphale.” She warned even though her expression was fond. “I’ve finished with him. You can have him. May he find peace in your household.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale waited and she smiled.

“No more missions.” She allowed, finally agreeing to what had already been promised.

“Thank you.”

“I hear you’re moving out of the city. Back to country life?”

“Yes. I think it would do us both good.” Aziraphale answered. “The city overwhelms us both for different reasons.”

“Hm.” She rose from her seat. “I must be off. I’ll send Agnes around noon, once your servant is awake.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale bowed his head. “Your graciousness is appreciated.”

“I know.” She smirked and then she left, taking her guards with her. Aziraphale locked the door and eased back towards his room. He’d grab a robe and go look for Crowley before he headed back to bed.

He opened the door to see a foot on the floor by his bed. He stepped over carefully, something crumpling when he realized it was Crowley pressed between the wall and his bed. Poor dear hadn’t felt safe at all.

Aziraphale had to fix this.

He scooted the bed away from the wall and then tried to wake Crowley.

“Crowley.” He whispered, touching his shoulder gently. Panicked eyes flew open, staring at him until recognition bled into them.

“Aziraphale.” Crowley blinked. “Didn’t dream you back then.”

“No, I’m here. And you’re here too.” Aziraphale assured him. “I want you to take the bed. I’ll go rest by the fire.” There were so many things he wanted to say. So many apologies for the state that he’d found Crowley in. But he didn’t want to overwhelm him. He was already far too overwhelmed. “Agnes will be here by midday.”

“What time is it now?” Crowley rasped.

“Early.” Aziraphale told him. “You have plenty of time to sleep some more.”

“Sorry I came in here.” Crowley said quietly. “I didn’t know what else to do.” Or where to go.

“I’m not.” Aziraphale answered him. “I’m glad you came in. I’m glad you found somewhere you could sleep.” Crowley glanced at him carefully, making sure he truly was not angry. He wasn’t. He meant every word. “We’ll be gone from here as soon as we’re well enough to travel.” He promised. “Consider this your room in the mean time.”

“You can’t—“ Crowley tried to protest.

“I just did.” Aziraphale gave him that cheeky smile. “C’mon. Up on the bed. Rest.”

“Okay.” Crowley eased up onto the bed and Aziraphale moved it back into place. Just in case. Crowley curled up on his bed and Aziraphale took the liberty of tucking him in. 

Crowley watched him with tired eyes, accepting the sips of water Aziraphale offered before he left.

“Luce is dead still? I didn’t dream that either.”

“He’ll never bother you again.”

“Thank fuck.” Crowley groaned. His eyes were already drooping and Aziraphale took his cue to leave. “Thank you.” Crowley managed as Aziraphale slipped out the door, closing it behind him. 

Crowley nuzzled against the blankets and inhaled in Aziraphale’s familiar scent. Crowley was safe now. At least… as much as he could be. Aziraphale would see to it.

Chapter 19: The Journey Home

The next few days were a blur. Aziraphale was packing when he should have been resting and Crowley watched it all from his nest tucked away in Aziraphale’s bed. He had thought that when he ended up in Aziraphale’s bed that the man would have been in it with him but he’d been a perfect gentlemen, waiting on Crowley even though Crowley was physically perfectly able to help himself.

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave the room given freely to him, not even to see the gardens in full bloom, and Aziraphale made sure he wanted for nothing. And Crowley was too exhausted to fight anymore, letting himself have this… this rest and pampering that Luce had alluded to. Learning he had been in the employ of the queen had not helped the terrors that haunted his waking moments. So he slept a lot until the day Aziraphale helped him into the carriage and they left that damned city behind.

Aziraphale watched the city melt away to the greens and goldens of the forest at midday. Crowley sat next to him, curling up against the side of the carriage. He stared at the brilliant colors all blurring into one and recalled a very different rocking of the wagon they’d been chained into as they traveled from Serpentis. The leering guards looking at him or trying to– he shuddered and looked back at Aziraphale.

He was with Aziraphale. Man had never ever acted on an ounce of the attraction he claimed he had for Crowley. And for that… Crowley was grateful.

“You all right?” Aziraphale looked up from his book, giving him an inquisitive look, and Crowley shook his head.

“S’like the wagon.” He said with dull eyes. “I keep remembering awful things and I don’t know how to stop.”

“Would you like me to read aloud? S’a gentle story. Not very exciting, I’m afraid, but perhaps it could help?” Crowley nodded.

“I’d like it.” Crowley sighed. “I’ve had enough excitement for a lifetime.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Aziraphale could relate to that feeling. He turned his attention back to the page but then looked back at Crowley. “You know… I would not mind if you leaned against me.” He said softly. “You do not have to but it might help to not look out the window.”

“Yea.” Crowley didn’t move. “Maybe.”

“Think on it.” Aziraphale gave him a reassuring look. “Do what makes you the most comfortable.”

“I will.” Aziraphale started to read and Crowley’s eyes started to close on his own accord. He leaned towards the soothing voice, finding a sturdy warmth. And then, a little while longer, he was fast asleep, rocked to sleep by the carriage and the lulling sound of Aziraphale’s voice. He was starting to realize that if Aziraphale was around, he was safe. Safe enough to sleep, at least. And so sleep he did.

---

“It’s time for lunch.” Aziraphale roused him a few hours later. Crowley blinked, staring at him until he reacclimated to his surroundings. They were parked near a small grove of trees, the beginnings of a humble orchard and Crowley found that he did not mind it. Aziraphale spread out a blanket on the grass and Crowley couldn’t help but lie down. He soaked up the sun as Aziraphale procured the basket that held some fruit and bread. Crowley dozed as his master set up, unbothered as he went to go tend to the horses next. That was the thing about Aziraphale… he seemed to take care of all that were in his care. Even temporarily.

The driver thanked him for the help and then he shook Crowley gently, offering him some grapes.

“I’ll get up in a minute.” Crowley managed. All he wanted to do was sleep since Aziraphale had rescued him and Azirapale, bless him, had been so gracious to let him lie abed. Seemed to think it was a normal reaction to what had transpired at the training center. Oh, fuck. Crowley could Luce’s weight on him, hear the purr of his voice in his ear as he ripped at his clothes, and he let out a plaintive mewl that had Aziraphale’s full attention. “M’fine.” He protested as the man gathered him up against him, more concerned that Aziraphale had realized what he had realized in the carriage… that being close to him meant safety.

He lay against Aziraphale’s thigh and the man fed him grapes one by one, stroking his fingers through his short curls until Crowley felt content. And then Aziraphale let him nap there, on his leg, like a pet, until the driver motioned for them to come.

“We should get a move on if we’re gonna reach the inn by nightfall.”

“Right.” Aziraphale tsked, waking him gently. “We’ve got to go, Crowley. You can sleep some more in the carriage.”

“Mmph.” Crowley managed before he was lifted up and carried back. He fell back to sleep before Aziraphale even managed to pack up the picnic and bring it back to the carriage.

 

---

 

The inn. The inn came with it’s own challenges as they entered. It was warm and light but full to the brim with people. Soldiers, Townfolk. A visiting dignitary that didn’t want their nation to be conquered next.

“I’m so sorry, sir.” The innkeeper apologized to Aziraphale. “The ambassadors showed up unannounced and I gave them your rooms. The driver can sleep in the stable. We have some nice rooms for drivers out there.”

“S’fine.” The man grunted and nodded to them as he headed out into the darkness to tend to the horses and find his lodgings. “I’ll be back for my meal.”

“We need a room.” Aziraphale pressed. “I paid good money.”

“And we have a fine room available, just the one, mind you. But… it only has one bed. I can find a cot for your servant and–”

“We’ll take it.” Aziraphale sighed. “But I want some coin back.”

“Of course.” The innkeeper grumbled, sliding some gold coins back to him along with the key.

“Go up to the room. I’ll fetch us dinner. Is ale all right?”

“I’d take some water too.” Crowley managed, trying not to look at the crowd behind them. It was too many people. Aziraphale gave him an apologetic look and squeezed his hand as he passed him the key.

“Water’s up there already. The innkeeper replied. “You can both go up. I’ll have Brigette bring up the stew and the ale.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale nodded and then escorted Crowley out of the busy common room and up the stairs. The innkeeper watched them go with an odd look on his face and Crowley made a face back at him. He quickly turned away.

“If you keep this up, they’ll think you’re the servant.” Crowley warned him.

“You’re recovering, Crowley. I don’t care what they think. I am going to look after you and make sure you have all that you need.” Aziraphale was quick to reply. “And don’t think for a moment that you’re not taking the bed. You need the rest.”

“I’ve been sleeping all day.” He answered wryly. “You’re injured, Aziraphale. You need to rest too.”

“I don’t want you on the cot or the floor.”

“And I don’t want you there either.”

“Maybe it’s big enough?” Aziraphale tentatively offered and Crowley’s stomach flipped.

“Maybe.” He said quietly. They’d have to compromise but he didn’t know if he was up to sharing a bed with Azirapale. Even though he’d slept on him most of the day. Everything was just easier when he was sleeping.

“We can decide later.” Aziraphale saw his discomfort and didn’t press the issue. “I am fine on the cot. I’ve slept in worse places.” Crowley recalled the dungeons and being pinned under Hastur during the night.

“So have I.” He said in a small voice. “We’ll figure it out.”

Chapter 20: A Bath and a Proposition

Aziraphale ordered a hot bath and so servants filled up the bath big enough for two near the fire while they ate. The stew was edible and the bread not too hard. The ale was watery but it brought a hint of a buzz that Crowley welcomed, if only for the warmth in his chest. The ale made Aziraphale’s cheeks a rosy pink and he smiled more as they talked.

Crowley kept a wary eye on the servants but they didn’t even look at him and Aziraphale. They just did their job and left. Once they were gone, Aziraphale locked the door behind them, and returned to his meal with Crowley.

Now Crowley studied him. Always keeping one eye out on the nearest threat.

“I won’t hurt you.” Aziraphale said quietly. “You don’t have to watch me.” To his surprise, Crowely laughed.

“That’s not why I’m… watching you.” He shook his head. “I just–” He was not going to admit to admiring Aziraphale! But he was amused all the same. It was just the most relaxed he’d ever seen the other man and it had made his mind wonder.

Perhaps it was just the ale but Crowley was tired of everything being so fucking stressful all the time. And there had been one thing back home that he had sworn by to relieve the stress each time. An activity that no longer felt safe… but maybe… with Aziraphale…

…he could at least get off. Despite the callouses from the sword on his hand, his skin was soft. And if they got a spot of oil…

Sure, he could do it himself once he had a private room again but he was struck by the idea of seeing how far that flush went down. If it traveled all the way down to his cock. Yes, to do things with Aziraphale seemed like a much better plan than to try facing the shadows of his attackers in order to get a bit of relief.

No, that was silly. But he was grinning and Aziraphale was flushing a deeper pink. “I was thinking about you.” He finished, ducking his head down. Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, sensing that there was more to it than that but that Crowley was being truthful. The pretty blush settling in on his cheeks said that much.

“Uh-huh.” He answered. “What was I doing?”

“Mm, something with your hands.” Crowley teased, his tongue wetting his lips as he glanced over at Aziraphale.

“And what were my hands doing?” Aziraphale’s voice deepened and Crowley felt a thrill of something run down his spine. He didn’t think it was fear, no, it was something much more pleasant. Anticipation, maybe?

“Touching me.” He shrugged elegantly.

“Where?” Aziraphale’s eyes sparkled.

“Hmm, somewhere that’s needed a little touching as of late.” Aziraphale’s expression sobered and Crowley hissed, shaking his head. “Don’t.” He sighed. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

“A few days ago…” Aziraphale did not want to bring up how he had found his Crowley again but he had to. There was no way that was all forgotten already. And he didn’t want Crowley to feel like he had to do anything in exchange for his care and protection.

“I don’t care. I’ve dealt with enough. I’m allowed a little pleasure to make up for it.”

“On that we are agreed.” Aziraphale nodded. “But–”

“But?” Crowley pressed.

“Why me?”

“You are safe.” Crowley pursed his lips. “And I– I am tired of denying myself what I want. Doesn’t have to be much. We have a bed after all.” He glanced at the steaming water. “Or the bath?” There was an earnestness in his expression that led Aziraphale to believe that he was being serious. That he wanted this… temporary dalliance… between them.

“If I do this… only touching.” Aziraphale said softly, placing his own boundaries down and gauging Crowley’s reaction. He saw only interest so he continued.  “I do not think either of us are prepared for anything more… in depth.”

“Humph.” Crowley pouted but then he smirked. “And here I thought I could put that bath to good use.” Aziraphale flushed and Crowley grinned. Aziraphale continued though, determined to voice each and every concern he had and then, and only then, would he see where the evening led them.

“I want you to tell me to stop the second it becomes too much. No pushing through because you think it’ll make me happy.” Aziraphale insisted.

“Fine.” But Crowley’s smile only grew. “Same rules go for you. No more ignoring your own needs just because you feel guilty over me.”

“I—“

“You don’t think I see you? Agnes told you to rest and heal as much as she told me too. And yet, you’re carrying me around, doing all the packing yourself… are you punishing yourself because the queen took me?”

“I promised I’d keep you safe.” Aziraphale looked surprised by the turn in the conversation and then stricken. “And then she took you like I wasn’t even there. And I couldn’t do anything! Then she sent me away like a fucking errand boy and they hurt you because I wasn’t there to protect you! I am supposed to protect you!” Crowley’s eyes widened as he realized how strongly Aziraphale felt about taking care of him.

Crowley gave him an odd look and then nudged his foot against Aziraphale’s foot under the table.

“S’not your fault.” He said quietly but with a conviction that caught Aziraphale’s attention. “She wanted to punish you.” He tilted his head, studying Aziraphale. “Don’t do her job for her.”

“I– on my way back to get you– I had to retrieve you before I did anything else first. Had to get you before I even saw Agnes about my wounds because–” he glanced up, looking as if he might weep, “because I feared to return and find the center and you… nothing but ash.”

“Oh.” Crowley breathed. “Oh, Aziraphale, no.” He reached for the other man, taking his hand without thought. Aziraphale stared at their joined hands, squeezing his hand back. “I am alive and well.” Aziraphale made a pained sound as they both recalled how they’d been reunited. “I am well enough.” He amended and Aziraphale huffed in amusement, gazing fondly over at him.

“I am glad you are well enough.” Aziraphale nodded. “I care for you in my own way. I want nothing but a good life for you, full of healing, recovery, and peace. And I will do what I must to insure that you get such things. But you’re right… I should not do it at the expense of myself. We’ll heal together. How does that sound?” Crowley gave a little nod, his eyes sparkling.

“Does that include putting your hands on my cock?” Crowley asked with a renewed lightness in his tone. Aziraphale gave him a sweet smile, glancing at the hand still covering his own. He reached up with his thumb and stroked it over the back of Crowley’s knuckles.

“I could even use my mouth.” He offered in that same light tone. Crowley made a scandalized face before he burst out laughing.

“I thought you had a wife!”

“While we were friends, we were barely lovers.” Azirapahel admitted. “She was chosen by my father who made it clear I would never marry a man. I had to provide heirs for his legacy. I had to marry a proper woman that he found suitable. He said I would understand when I was a father but– I never did. I loved my boy. I never would have made him marry someone he didn’t love.”

“Aziraphale…” Crowley’s eyebrows rose towards each other. “That’s incredibly sad…”

“Psh.”

“You deserve to have a love with someone who is all that you desire.” Crowley replied. “I don’t know if I’m a suitable candidate but I am, at least, good at bed. I can show you some fun.” He bit his bottom look and gave him a look that Aziraphale could guess at its meaning.

“My son was conceived because of a servant who I grew up with.” Aziraphale told him quietly. “He knew… he knew how to make me able to do my job as a husband and a son. My son would not have existed without his help… And so he taught me how to do some things as well.” Aziraphale had to smile. “Some things that I wouldn’t mind showing you.”

“Then we’re agreed?” Crowley leaned forward. “At least for the evening?”

“I am not casual in my affections.” Aziraphale admitted, smoothing his fingers over the back of Crowley’s hand.

“A trial run then?” Crowley asked. “I do not know if I can commit to anything more.”

“Very well.” Aziraphale gave him an indulgent smile. “We can just be for the night.” Crowley got up from the table and stepped towards the bath. He glanced over his shoulder at Aziraphale as he undid his robe and let it slip to the floor. Then he loosened his shirt and then thought better of it, turning around. He picked up the robe and left it on the chair where he left his shirt a moment later. Aziraphale’s throat felt dry as he took in the exposed skin, noting that Crowley had turned so that his healing back was not on display.

Clever Crowley. He wasn’t letting Aziraphale get distracted by his injuries, that was for sure.

“Coming in?” Crowley asked, stepping out his pants and undergarments next. He slipped into the bath and sat down, gazing up at him with those eyes.

“Shortly.” Aziraphale reached for his glass and drained it before he too rose from his chair and stepped towards the bath. “I will be with you in a moment.”

Chapter 21: Only One Bed

Crowley gazed over at him as he stepped over to the bath, shedding his own clothes. Aziraphale was bare, swallowing hard, as he stepped into the hot water and sat across from him. Crowley’s eyes skimmed over him, the scars and healing wounds, before he looked him into his eyes.

“You’re handsome.” He murmured, reaching along the edge of the bath to press his hand against Aziraphale’s hand again. Aziraphale tangled their fingers carefully before bringing his hand to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss on the back there.

“You’re breathtakingly gorgeous.”

“S’not a competition.” Crowley’s cheeks darkened. None of his lovers had looked at him like Aziraphale did. None of them had complimented him the way Aziraphale did. Like he was a painting or a sunrise. Flings. They’d all been flings. Nothing too serious. Mostly just fucking.

“If it was, you would have already won.” Aziraphale chuckled. He was sturdy. Crowley glanced at the lines of his broad shoulders and strong arms. The expanse of his chest was covered in fine, blond hair. The glow of the fire illuminated the side of his face and flickered along his curls.

“Now what?”

“Should we not bathe?”

“I was thinking about kissing, maybe?” Crowley scrunched up his nose.

“Let me wash up first.” Aziraphale chuckled. “Then I’ll be yours to command. However you like.”

“I was hoping you’d take care of me.” Crowley said softly, eyes glancing over at him. “However you wanted. S’long as you’re gentle.”

“I’ll take care of you.” Water splashed as Aziraphale rose to his knees and leaned over, pressing a kiss to Crowley’s forehead. He leaned back to gauge Crowley’s reaction, smiling with how Crowley gazed up at him. Then he leaned back in, pressing a kiss to his nose. Then he connected their lips. Crowley kissed him back, a little hesitant at first, but then more eagerly as Aziraphale cradled his head in his hands.

He relaxed in Aziraphale’s hands, letting him kiss him deeply before his kisses started to trail down his neck.

“All right.” Crowley rasped. “I’ll wash up.” He reached for the washcloth. “I want to move this to the bed.” He glanced down and smiled. “You can take care of this afterward.” He gestured to below his waist. “You’re a good kisser.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale beamed. “I’ll wash up too and meet you there. I’d like to kiss you again.”

“I’d be okay with that.” Crowley nodded.

---

Washing up sounded straightforward when they’d agreed to it but here they were, tangled together in the middle of the tub. There was a lot of dizzying kisses and washing each other, Crowley gasping as Aziraphale took him in hand right there in the hot water.

“Oh, fuck.” He ground out, grinding back against the hard length he felt behind him. Aziraphale made a sound like the air being driven out of his lungs, biting down on his shoulder. “Fuck!” Crowley felt claimed. He felt wanted. Desired to a point that he didn’t think anyone had ever desired him so much before. “Bed.” He managed, pushing Aziraphale’s hand off his cock before he lost it all right there. He stumbled from the tub, giving himself a quick pat down before he pitched onto the bed, towel haphazardly underneath him.

There was only one bed after all.

Aziraphale turned, looking for him, the look in his eyes scorching him as he found him. As if they continued this tryst, Aziraphale just might consume him. And Crowley felt a flicker of fear amidst all the lust, his shoulder aching where he’d been bitten. “Wait.” He bit out as Aziraphale approached him, toweling himself off. His cock was swollen and his balls heavy. Gorgeous really with his blond hair and blue eyes, pale skin as flushed as his cock.

Aziraphale halted immediately and Crowley allowed himself a breath, taking himself in hand  with some oil Aziraphale had boldly asked the innkeeper for. Aziraphale tracked his movements but he didn’t move, just watched, as Crowley closed his eyes and felt.

“Crowley.” Aziraphale moaned his name, touching himself, and Crowley’s eyes flew open.

“Get over here.” He released himself. “Just… you have to be gentle.”

“Sorry.” Aziraphale whispered, instantly regretful, glancing at his shoulder.

“You like marking your property?” Crowley teased. There was a glint of something in Aziraphale’s eyes even though he replied quickly.

“You’re a person. I don’t own you.”

“Make me look like I’m all yours.” Crowley gave him permission, shivering under his hot gaze. He felt bare like this, vulnerable. And while it had been sexy for a moment, it was starting to lose its appeal. Being naked hadn’t worked out for him on the journey, eyes on him before they snatched him out of the wagon and—

Maybe a blanket, something, anything...

A robe was wrapped around him as Aziraphale propped him up and dressed him loosely, his cock still exposed as well as a sliver of his chest and a long leg. It did not go unnoticed that it was one of Aziraphale’s clean robes. Marking him still but in a much gentler way.

“Better?”

“Fuck.” Crowley laughed, his eyes wide. “You’re good. How– how did you know I was back there?”

“It’s not good when you tremble. Means you’re in here somewhere.” Aziraphale tapped his forehead gently and Crowley leaned forward, taking his finger into his mouth. Aziraphale pulled back, startled, and Crowley laughed, leaning back on the pillow. Aziraphale followed him, crawling over him, but not putting his weight on him. Something Crowley was very grateful for.

“You promised me your mouth.” Crowley whispered, gazing up at him.

“Soon.” Aziraphale promised, nipping at his nose. “May I kiss you?”

“Uh-huh.” He tilted his head back, throat exposed, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but to grip his neck loosely as he kissed him again, deeply, as if he could take the soul out of him with just a kiss. Whatever magic was in that kiss, it was working. All thoughts of darkness were far enough in the background that Crowley couldn’t reach them. Could only focus on this, this building heat between them. He kissed Aziraphale back, reaching down to tug on his cock.

Aziraphale exhaled, nearly crumpling there on top of him.

“Crowley.” He moaned and Crowley smiled.

“That’s me.” He answered cheekily. He took them both in hand as Aziraphale marked up his neck with long, lingering kisses, sucking along his collar bone before he traversed his chest. He latched onto a nipple and Crowley started, mewling at the burst of pleasure. “Gods, your mouth.”

“Just wait.” Aziraphale grinned before he turned his attention to the other nipple. He nipped this one first before taking it into his mouth and lavishing all sorts of filthy attention to it with his tongue and his lips. Crowley’s body felt like it was on fire. Most of his lovers would already be out of the door by now, the heat already cooling, but Aziraphale was stoking something hotter. Something that could possibly burn a lot longer.

Kisses trailed down his stomach and then focused on his thighs. Crowley’s long fingers found Aziraphale’s curls, pulling him towards where he wanted his mouth most. Aziraphale chuckled before he took him down, all the way to his throat. Crowley came blindingly fast, without warning, and Aziraphale took all he had to offer before he came to hold him. Crowley was shaking but for pleasurable reasons only as he was tucked against Aziraphale’s chest. His head tucked under his chin. He took Aziraphale in hand, getting him off too, even as his eyes started to droop. “Oh, Crowley. I don’t think I could ever be casual about you.” Aziraphale whispered his name as he came a few moments later. And then he cleaned them both up even as Crowley was already falling asleep.

Chapter 22: The Morning After

Summary:

I had such a hard time writing this bc I didnt know if I wanted to skip it and have them be at the estate or if I wanted to show the morning after. And then life got crazy busy. So it’s short (sorry) but it’s a transitional chapter showing how they’re all feeling after that night!

Aziraphale woke up with his arms full.

A pleasant surprise as he half expected Crowley to be gone when he woke up. Crowley had fallen asleep quickly but Aziraphale had stayed up, staring at the ceiling until he passed out from exhaustion. Crowley had been right. He had been pushing himself too hard. But he didn’t want to sleep yet, not with Crowley curled up against him like he was important.

Special.

It was nice. Certainly not something he’d really experienced before. His wife and him were both not into lingering after the deed was done and it was too dangerous for the servant to stay the night with him. Even if they’d wanted to at one point.

But Crowley did. Had. Hadn’t left or slunk off to the floor. He’d stayed in his arms and Aziraphale couldn’t deny how it made him feel. Perhaps he had been alone for too long.

Crowley started to stir and Aziraphale settled back, trying to relax. He didn’t want Crowley to realize how much he was getting in his own feelings about this. This… this had just been a trial run. And just because he was fully onboard did not mean Crowley was.

 

---

 

Crowley woke up curled up against Aziraphale and blinked. He hadn’t left. Neither of them had left the bed. He felt warm, safe, cozy, and satisfied. Things long missing in his life. Perhaps from even–

Well, he knew, for sure, that he hadn’t woken up next to someone feeling like this since his mother.

He missed his mother. He missed her so much!

Tears started to well up and he cursed internally. But they wouldn’t stop! They dripped down his cheeks and he snuggled against Aziraphale more in hopes that he wouldn’t notice.

 

---

While waiting for Crowley woke up, Aziraphale had been ready to say something smooth or encouraging like: 

I really enjoyed last night, let’s do it again sometime.

Or

I’d have my mouth on you every day if you let me.

To his horror, Crowley woke up and almost instantly started crying! Aziraphale wasn’t sure what to say or do. How to soothe in this moment that maybe him and his cock had caused! Long story short, he was panicking internally as he heard Crowley sniffle, his body shuddering, before he pressed into Aziraphale’s embrace a little more.

Oh. If it was his fault, he didn’t think Crowley would be leaning into him. Something else was afoot, maybe, and it seemed rude to leave Crowley to it alone. So he kissed the top of his forehead as gently as he could before he summoned the courage to ask what was wrong.

“Are you all right?” He murmured and Crowley broke in his arms, full on sobs as he turned and twisted into his neck like a snake.

“M’fine.” Crowley hiccuped. “Just overwhelm’d.”

“Did I d–”

“No! You were… you’re perfect.” Crowley whispered, hiccuping again as he tried to stop the tears.

“Let them out.” Aziraphale counseled. “You’ve been holding a lot in for a long time.”

“More than you know.” But Crowley took his advice and wept into his embrace until his body calmed down on its own, in time with Aziraphale’s steady breaths.

 

---

 

They dressed and ate breakfast about an hour later and then they were back in the carriage. Crowley stayed away, glancing over at Aziraphale occasionally.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” Crowley looked back out the window but then he glanced back at Aziraphale a second later. They both had to laugh and then it was quiet. It took a few minutes but then Crowley opened his mouth and let the words fall out.

“Thanks.” He managed. “Didn’t know you had that kind of mouth on ya.” It was meant playfully but it came out tired. But then a faint smirk. “It was really good.” He admitted.

“And?” Aziraphale guessed. “But?”

“I heard what you said. Last night. As I was falling asleep.” Crowley fidgeted. “And I guess I need to know what you expect from me now.”

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s forehead creased. “Oh, no, nothing like that. Last night was… glorious. But I don’t expect it again… if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You don’t want to?” Crowley’s expression soured just so and Aziraphale hurried to soothe, tripping over his words.

“I-no—it’s—“

“Oh, no.” Crowley eyed him and Aziraphale huffed, pausing and then trying again.

“I’m at your command. Let’s leave it at that.” He told him. “You just say the word and I would love to do that again.” Crowley made a non-committal sound, tilting his head. He’d have to think about that… but he didn’t hate the idea.

“I’ll let you know.” He hummed. He didn’t want to rush into this but he was… intrigued.

“I appreciate the consideration.” Aziraphale quipped. “Did you rest well?”

“Considering that you made me come embarrassingly fast, yea, I slept like the dead.” Crowley snorted. “Don’t even feel all that tired today. Although, if this carriage is going to rock this violently, I might get ill instead.”

“The roads are rough here. But once we’re settled, it’ll be easier to take the road on horseback.” Aziraphale waved his hand.

“Are you curious about how I ride, my lord?” Crowley teased, his tongue peeking out from his lips for a brief second. Aziraphale blushed. He hadn’t been but he was now! He ducked his head down, shaking his head side to side while he muttered something unintelligible. “I’m only joking.” Crowley smiled. “Unles—“

“Let’s ease into this!” Aziraphale blurted. “At least until we know what this is. We tried the ‘trial run’ now let’s wait and see. If we are to be… together… you will be merely a companion at my estate. I will not have you as a servant if you’re in my bed. You’ll be much more of an equal in the eyes of the public.”

Cropper blinked but then he nodded his head, a slow smile creeping over his face as he looked away, out the window.

“Very well, my lord. Have it your way. We will ease into this… with the help of some oil.” He burst out laughing, covering his face with his hands. He felt giddy, like coming off of a good buzz. Aziraphale was watching him, like he was going to cry again, but Crowley felt… happy. It was almost a foreign feeling at this point but he took it for what it was.

He was starting to compose a list pertaining to Aziraphale. First, the man made him feel safe. He’d made him feel absolute ecstasy underneath him, taken into his bed. And now he had made him feel happy.

What a new, interesting development. Crowley was curious to see what he would make him feel next. Guess he’d have to stick around a little bit longer.

As if he had anywhere to go.

Chapter 23: Old Secrets

Summary:

TW: a past death

Crowley ended up feeling a little queasy and so Aziraphale arranged for him to sit with the driver until he recovered.

“Call me if you need anything.” Aziraphale said, giving Crowley a look. And to the driver, he said only this. “I trust you to keep him safe.”

“Of course, Lord Aziraphale.” The driver ducked his head down. Aziraphale gave him a hard look before he slipped back to Crowley. He helped him up, squeezing his hand. Crowley climbed into the driver’s seat, scooting over to make room.

“I’ll be all right, my lord.” He said quietly with a nod. “The driver will take good care of me.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale nodded and headed back into the carriage, shutting the door. The driver looked up at Crowley, squinting at him, before he climbed up too.

“I’m Job Daniels.” The driver introduced himself as he sat down next to him. “And unlike these dogs, I keep my paws to myself.” He urged the horses forward and they were back on the rough road. “Last night.” The driver murmured. “You were willing?”

“I was.” Crowley sniffed, glancing over. “Not that it’s any of your concern.”

“A pretty boy also from Serpentis? Especially if it's you? I would say it’s my concern.” The driver shrugged. “They take liberties with us that we would never take with them. My boy and my girl got placed with lords who take liberties. I need to make sure you’re okay since I can’t check on them.” Crowley glanced over his shoulder.

“He can hear you.” He murmured.

“Good.” The driver reached to his belt, taking a dagger and handing it over to him. “For your own protection. You won’t alway be able to hide behind a lord.” 

“He protects me.” Crowley was adamant.

“He’s one of them.” Job shrugged. “They have limits to their protections.”

“He’s not one of them. He’s a refugee who came here during one of the wars.” Alistair gave him a disbelieving look. He reached into his bag and handed Crowley a second dagger. “He’d never hurt me.” Crowley scoffed. He looked down at the second dagger in his hands, his stomach lurching as he recognized the crest. The golden snake with black eyes wrapped around the hilt stared into his soul, as if recognizing him. “How?!” He sucked in a sharp breath, holding the dagger like it might crumble to sand in his hands.

“With great difficulty.” Job allowed.

“He kept this by his bed.” And now it had found its way back to Crowley, one last gift from his king.

“We almost lost you at the training center.” Job told him in a quiet tone only they could hear. “But then your lord made a ruckus.”

“They almost found me at the training center.” Crowley admitted. “Thank fuck the operative tried to take liberties and all that he’d guessed died with him.”

“You’re sure you’re safe with him?” Job asked. “We can’t move you back to Serpentis yet but I can try to find you another place.”

“I’m sure I am the safest I can be in this country with him. He’s killed for me.” Crowley smiled faintly. “I mean to win him to our side. My side.”

“For what end?”

“My own happiness, Mr. Daniels. We’ve both been used enough. I mean to keep him at my side and enjoy my time with him.”

“You’ll be expected to produce–”

“Let me say this once.” Crowley’s eyes flashed. “I don’t give a flying rat’s ass of what is expected of me. The serpent can never be contained.”

“Of course. I’m sorry.” Job ducked his head down. “My children are fiery like you. I can only hope they’ve retained their spark.”

“They’re from Serpentis.” Crowley gazed on the road ahead. “Of course, they have.”

“May I ask him if I can join his household? It would be easier to search for them from the country. They seem to be out of the city.”

“Sure. It’s his household.”

“My loyalty–”

“Will be to him if you join. Do you understand? I will not suffer any harm coming to Aziraphale. He’s mine.”

“Of course.” Job sighed. “As you wish.”

---

 

“Oh, my sweet boy, I didn’t want you to see me like this.” Crowley gazed down at his mother, stricken by the sight of her so weak. He’d never seen her so weak. He’d never seen her appear weak ever. Mariela Anthony was fiery by nature, as vibrant as her red hair. And now… now she looked as if she might slip away with the slightest of breeze.

“I’ve brought a doctor!” Crowley looked up to see the king standing in their shack of a home, filling up the room with his presence. He would normally be a little more cowed but his mother… his mother was dying and he had no way of saving her.

“Can he help?”

“He’s my personal physician.” The king assured him. “If anything can be done, he’ll be the one to know what to do.”

“Why is he here? Why are you here?” Crowley jerked back as the king tried to touch his arm. “Don’t touch me. I’m not one of your spawn!”

Mariela laughed from her bed and Crowley’s eye darted to her.

“Mariela…” The king warned and she chuckled again, closing her eyes. But she said nothing. Her laugh was enough though, enough to plant a seed of a doubt in Crowley’s mind. The king pulled him out behind the shack where no one would see them and the doctor was too busy to hear what he was about to say.

“I was going to tell you when you were older.”

“I’m twenty-nine.” Crowley laughed mirthlessly. “What could you possibly have to tell me that could have waited this long?”

“There is an imminent attack on our lands. And we do not currently have the strength to rebuff it. The sickness that is taking Mariela has taken half my soldiers and their families.” Crowley’s eyes widened. He hadn’t realized how wide-spread the illness was. “You’ve been told your whole life that your father served in my armies, yes?”

“Yes.” Crowley folded his arms across his chest.

“Rafe Anthony was a fucking cad. Broke Mariela’s heart. Married her. Knocked her up. Ran away.”

Crowley wasn’t too surprised. He’d figured his mother never spoke about him for a good reason.

“Yea.”

“Mariela lost the baby right around the time my youngest son was born to my wife and I.” The king said simply. “We made a deal. Rafe would be killed in battle and Mariela would be taken care of for the rest of her life… if she raised our youngest as her own.”

“Why the fuck–”

“You’ve met Crispus and the others.” The king said dryly. “They’re spoiled. They have no idea what it is like to be one of the people and Serpentis cannot survive with a leader like that. It’s their mother’s fault and my own for not checking her. So… I told the queen that you died… and I gave you to Mariela for safekeeping. To insure the future of our country.”

“I don’t–”

“You are the crown prince, Crowley, not Crispus. It is in you, all our hopes lie.”

“I’m not a fucking prince.” Crowley hissed. “Now, excuse me. I need to be with my mother.” He stalked off, hurrying back into the house, leaving the king in the back of the shack.

Mariela died a few days later but not before she confirmed the king’s story.

“You’ll always be my boy, Crowley.” She whispered, squeezing his hand. “But he’s right about your bloodline. You did not come from my body even though you have my whole heart.”

“M’not a prince. M’just a street rat.” He grumbled and she laughed.

“You’re my boy.” She whispered. “And you have more heart than that entire family put together. S’hard to believe you came from that awful woman and not me.”

“You’re my mother.” Crowley whispered, blinking back the hot tears. “You’ll always be my mother.” She smiled at him and then stilled, a pained expression crossing her face, and then she passed, still holding his hand. “Mama.” He whispered, the tears coming as he curled up against her and wept, willing her to come back to him and hold him one last time. “I’ll never be theirs.” He vowed. “I’ll always be your son.”

Chapter 24: Telling the Truth

They arrived a few hours later and Aziraphale found Crowley as soon as the carriage stopped. The redhead stared at the estate being built, glancing back at Aziraphale as he came beside him.

“What do you think?”

“It will be very grand, my lord.” Aziraphale smiled proudly. 

“Yes, I think so.” He took Crowley’s arm gently. “Come, I’ll show you where we will live.” He guided them down a small dirt path that led towards the forest. It went on a ways before they came to a stone cottage.

“Oh.” Crowley breathed, already in love with the sunlit glade it rested in. 

“The true estate.” Aziraphale mused. “The other is a decoy when I have to entertain.”

“I love it.” Crowley glanced at him.

“Did he touch you? You look pale.” Aziraphale asked bluntly and Crowley shook his head, pulling out the first dagger Alastair had given him. 

“He gave me this if you ‘took liberties.’” Aziraphale huffed.

“Him and I agree on something. You have my full permission to run me through if I am ever forceful.”

“You wouldn’t be though.” Crowley mused. “You are dangerous with a blade but your soul is gentle. And for that, I am grateful.” Aziraphale nodded, accepting the compliment, before he took a deep breath.

“And the other dagger?” He asked, meeting Crowley’s gaze. Crowley pulled it out and handed it to him, the crest like a blow to the chest. He nearly dropped it, thrusting it back into Crowley’s hands.

“Crowley?” There was a question there that Crowley did not want to answer but he had to. It was his turn to be honest.

“I am not as careless with my secrets, I’m sorry. I had to know I could trust you first.”

“Who is to say I won’t fulfill my oath to the queen tonight while you sleep?” Aziraphale asked, his mind racing. He’d hoped he was wrong when the queen’s operative targeted Crowley. Just like he’d hoped he’d been wrong when he noted the shade of red hair the same as the king’s. He should have killed him that same night, blood staining the floor freshly scrubbed. He should have let Luce wrench the truth from him by whatever means necessary.

Oh, he’d grown too soft…

A sob echoed out and it took Aziraphale a moment to realize it came from him. He covered his mouth and turned away. He should want those things but in his heart, he knew he could never stand by and let harm come to Crowley.

Crispus, Clementine, Chalice, Campton, and… Crowley.

“I say so.” Crowley came next to him, taking his arm and resting his head on his shoulder. “You cannot stop the fight that is coming. My blood will not put out the fire. Serpentis will not bow to someone who did not earn our throne. She sent you, not herself.”

“So what, I am to be your blade instead of hers?” Aziraphale scoffed, low and ugly, even as he turned and pressed his nose into Crowley’s hair. His scent was soothing as were the memories of the night before. He took a steadying breath and Crowley squeezed his arm.

“No.”

“No? Surely, you have no better options!” He scoffed again. “I am your best bet to—“

“You’re retired.” Crowley said with a hint of a smile. “I will not use you. Not like they did.” Aziraphale couldn’t deny the relief those words gave him, as if they weren’t discussing treason of the highest degree. “I only ask that you stay by my side.”

“What? As your pet?”

“As mine.”

“As your what?”

“Well…” Crowley mused. “If we’re lucky, my everything.”

“And you’re so sure I will say yes?”

“I’m not sure of anything, my lord.” Crowley murmured. “But I too, do not want there to be secrets between us if we are to be… an us.” Aziraphale made a disbelieving sound but then Crowley hugged him, pulling him close, and Aziraphale let him. He let himself be held. He let himself be comforted.

“Is this your revenge on me?” Aziraphale asked slowly, trying to gain some sense of the situation unfolding around him.

“No.” Crowley pulled away. “It’s my counteroffer to whatever the queen had given you.”

“You. She gave me you.”

“And you can still have me! Be my lover. My consort. My most trusted advisor. Rule with me.” There was a hint of pleading amidst the bravado. And Aziraphale got the awful impression that Crowley meant every word. Somehow that made it all so much worse.

“Crowley…”

“Hush. Don’t answer me now. Think about it.”

“Why?”

“Because you make me happy.” Crowley smiled tentatively. “And I’d like to think I make you happy as well.” He had made Aziraphale happy once. Aziraphale wasn’t sure that would ever be possible again.

“And if I say no? You’ll have me killed?!”

“No one will dare hurt you.” Crowley shook his head. “You’ll still come with me but as a prisoner instead of a friend.”

“It’s treason!”

“Only for you. Bowing to her is the treason I cannot commit. I must fight for myself and for my people. We don’t have anyone else.”

“You want me to ally myself with the kingdom who murdered my family?!”

“I want you to ally yourself to me.” Crowley countered. He made a strong argument but all Aziraphale could feel right now was shock— and the sting of betrayal.

“You’re far more clever than I believed.” Aziraphale blew out a heavy sigh. Crowley?! The crown prince?! A sword to the stomach would have hurt him less!

“That’s your own fault for underestimating me.” Crowley laughed. “Come, show me the cottage. I want to see your bed.” The flirtation fell flat and they both recoiled with it.

“Crowley—“

“Yea, I know. I understand. Just my bed then.”

“All right.” Aziraphale pulled free and stepped towards the cottage, feeling pulled in a hundred different directions. He needed some space. He needed some time to think.

Crowley— the king— the heir! He’d been protecting a snake this whole time and hadn’t been brave enough to question it.

“Alastair wants to stay on.” Crowley said, breaking his attention from his wild thoughts. “Told him he’d be working for you.”

“Who?” 

“The driver.” Ah, yes, it made sense he wouldn’t use his Serpentis name with Aziraphale. He hadn’t even used it with Crowley.

“Job?”

“Sure.” Crowley shrugged. “I knew him as Alastair back home. He worked in the stables. Good with horses. He’s looking for his children.”

“Fine.” Aziraphale opened up the cottage, his mind far away, back at the stone castle where he’d first seen Crowley. Back where he’d first wanted him. Oh, he’d let the prettiness blind him. The— the hurting heart so similar to his own.

“I’m still me.” Crowley gave him a look and Aziraphale turned away.

“No, I’m afraid you’re something else entirely right now.” He managed, turning back in time to see Crowley’s expression crumple. “Anyway, you’re in here.” He pointed to a door. “I’ll be out for a bit. I’ll go talk to this Alastair.” He paused. “He’ll fight to protect you?”

“Yes.” Crowley hissed, pressing his lips together. He was not going to cry. He didn’t expect Aziraphale to be enthusiastic about the news but he didn’t think he’d see him as an enemy again either. That was it then. No more secrets between them but now there was nothing between them. “Yes, he’s loyal.”

“Good.” Aziraphale grunted. “A Serpentis trait.” He left and shut the cottage door behind him, leaving Crowley alone. Crowley did crumple then, hurrying into his room and hiding under the blankets.

He’d been on his own before. He’d do it again. Just because he wanted Aziraphale didn’t mean he needed him.

Chapter 25: For Healing

Summary:

Thanks for putting up with me. 😅 only one more plot twist to go. 🤣😳

“Crowley says you want to stay on and work here while you look for your children.” Aziraphale approached Job carefully.

“Yes, my lord, if it pleases you.” Job ducked his head down. Aziraphale studied him.

“There’s no need for bowing and scraping between us.” He waved his hand. “I’ve already been informed just how unranked I am. What’s a lord to a king?”

“He’s not a king yet. I want to make sure he makes it to be one. He’d be a good one. One for the people. That’s what his father promised.”

“And here he had me believing he grew up on the streets.” Aziraphale scoffed, kicking at a rock in his path. Now it was Job, also known as Alastair, studying him.

“You care about him.”

“I’m a fool.” Aziraphale sighed. “Yet I can’t bear the thought of any more harm coming to him. I should be sharpening my sword, not coming to see you and to ask if you’ll look out for him when I’m not here.” He wiped his face roughly. “What a fool.”

“If it helps… he did grow up on the streets. Lived in a shack with the woman who raised him. And then he was a servant in the palace. No one knew his true identity until it was too late. I knew Mariela, the woman who raised him, and he is far more her child than the king and queen’s.”

“Except for blood.” Aziraphale countered, glancing up at him.

“He cares for you too, you know. A normal son would want his father’s death avenged.” Alastair gave him a pointed look. “It was the queen’s payment to you that made it all fall into place. Why would you get the only witness that night unless you also were there?”

“Did Crowley tell you that?”

“Crowley refused to confirm or deny.” Job told him. “He instead put you under his full protection. Any snake that takes your head would forfeit their own to him. No one would dare touch you. Can you say the same about your queen and her operatives? Crowley said you’re not from here. Is that even true?”

“I’m not.” Aziraphale gave a small shake of his head. “My land was obliterated by the Serpent King’s armies. I am one of the few that survived.”

“Ah.” Job looked understanding. Aziraphale was tired of all this understanding. He wanted everything to go back to normal. He wanted to go back to Crowley and hide his face in his chest. He could call him a lying traitor to his face after. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d kiss him and seal both their fates together.

“If the queen finds out…”

“She won’t.” Job assured him.

“Having the two of you from the same place automatically looks suspicious.”

“Good thing they don’t know where I’m from.” Job smiled. “I wasn’t wagoned here. I came on my own.”

“Looking for Crowley?”

“Looking for Crowley.”

“Crowley represents a lot of hope to a lot of people. His father wasn’t the best king but… Crowley could be. He was one of us. He’s suffered like we have. He lost people to the sickness. He played with our children on the street. He looks after his people even when the enemy has taken everything from him. We will fight to the death to keep him safe.”

Aziraphale knew the feeling.

“You can stay.” He decided. “Let me know if I can help you find your children.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Job bowed his head. “My wife is coming to meet me now that I’ve found him. A healer from the city also. And a couple of slaves. Freed, of course. You have the beginnings of a promising household.”

“It all feels like a lie.” Aziraphale lamented.

“What he feels for you is true.” Job looked annoyed. “Or else I’d have already killed you. Give him a chance.” Aziraphale sighed, leaving Job to settle in with a little wave. He didn’t want to go back to the cottage yet but his feet had already headed down the path, heading back to Crowley.

 

---

 

“Crowley?” He knocked on the closed door. “It’s me. Aziraphale. I’m coming in.” He opened the door and Crowley jumped, turning in bed to look at him with a scared look in his eyes. “Come on, Crowley, I’m not going to hurt you.” Crowley sniffled and turned back away. Aziraphale could understand it though. He’d mentioned killing him once already, finishing the job. Crowley had no way of really knowing why Aziraphale was looking for him.

At least he hadn’t run. He’d stayed at the cottage. Aziraphale could appreciate that. “I’m just here to talk.”

“Then talk.” Crowley’s voice was muffled.

“Come on, Crowley, look at me.” Aziraphale cajoled and Crowley slowly turned in the bed before he sat up. “Thank you.” Aziraphale reached for him and Crowley flinched. Aziraphale took his hand anyway, squeezing it gently. “I’m not going to hurt you. And I understand now that you’ve made it very clear that no one is to hurt me.” He bowed his head, running his thumb over Crowley’s fingers. “Thank you.”

Crowley was holding his breath, waiting. “It’s a lot to process.” Aziraphale admitted after a minute. “But I have no desire to hurt you or to hurt… us. I will need time but I’m not ready to give you up.”

“Hmm.” Crowley managed. He didn’t want to be open right now. He didn’t want to tell Aziraphale the terrible things he’d imagined now that they were at odds. How he’d be carved up and served to the queen on the platter but not before Aziraphale had his fun. 

He didn’t used to be like this. He used to be more… optimistic. At least before he’d found out how cruel the world really could be. He trembled and Aziraphale sighed, sitting on the bed next to him and squeezing his hand again.

“You’re safe.” He assured the red head. “You will always be safe with me.” He glanced over to see Crowley watching him intently, hanging onto every word that he said. “I need time to think and to process this… this new revelation. A new way of seeing you.” He shook his head. “I’m stunned. I think I will be for a while, but you are still safe with me.”

“I’m not him.” Crowley said quietly. “I never will be. What happened to your family— I will never allow such atrocities. I just want my people to be protected and to be free.” He paused. “And it doesn’t look like anyone else is coming to help. Trust me, I’d rather hide away with you in the woods than take on a throne. I am the son of a servant far more than the son of a king.”

“And now you’re both.” Aziraphale nodded. “I will stay at your side but— not as yours. I will have to remain my own… for now.” What the future held, he did not know. But he could follow Crowley for the time being.

“I understand.” Crowley accepted.

“And I will not be your prisoner.” Crowley huffed, smirking. 

“I will take you in any capacity that allows me to keep you safe.” He said quietly. “You will not be subjected to any indecencies that were forced upon me. They know about you and your blade. I have to keep you safe, Aziraphale. I will not let you pay for her crimes.”

“I see.” Aziraphale did not remind him that he wanted to kill the king. They both knew the truth.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For considering me.” Crowley gave him a fond look. “I will respect your wishes, my lord.” Aziraphale scoffed playfully, his chest less tight as Crowley gently elbowed him. “For now, let’s just heal.”

“Agreed.”

Chapter 26: The Chaise

Aziraphale glanced across the table, looking up from his book. Crowley was picking at his meal. He looked exhausted. Aziraphale had heard the troubled screams that came from his room the night before but he had not been able to cross the distance now between them.

He felt for Crowley. He did. His dreams had not been pleasant either. Hence being awake at the time Crowley was screaming and then silent. Aziraphale had already been forced awake by his own dreams, his lungs choking on smoke and his hands burned to ash as he tried to beat down the door that held his family captive. Somewhere behind him Crowley and the Serpent King had laughed at his efforts while he wept and screamed.

And then he was awake, almost grateful to hear Crowley’s screams as well. Why shouldn’t they both suffer?

“Are you all right, my lord?” Crowley glanced up at him. “Your eyes have been on me for some time.”

“Apologies.” Aziraphale ducked his head down. “I meant to ask you if you were all right. Neither of us had a restful night. Not how I hoped moving out here would go for us both.”

“I am fine, my lord. Thank you for your concern.” Crowley bowed his head. “May I be excused? I would like to tour the estate more.” He paused, glancing up. “Unless you have some tasks for me to attend to?” His eyes were dull and Aziraphale remembered a morning he found him in the garden dripping blood.

“I worry about your safety.”

“Am I not safe on your property?”

“I worry about how you will keep yourself safe from your own self.”

“Ah.” Crowley clicked his tongue. “I do not intend on slicing my body up, if that is what you’re implying. I will keep myself unharmed at my lord’s wishes. I am his to command.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale nodded. The double meaning was not wasted on him but again, he was not ready to cross the distance between them. The distance he had imposed. Crowley got up from the table. He picked up his dishes and placed them where Aziraphale had left a tray.

“Shall I pack up the food?”

“Go.” Aziraphale shook his head. “I will handle the food and dishes this morning. You can handle them this evening.”

“Yes, my lord.” Crowley headed towards the door, both of them glancing at each other at the same time.

“Have a pleasant time.” Aziraphale said quietly, his eyes saying everything he could not. Crowley nodded, mumbling something that sounded an awful lot like ‘you too.’ And then he pushed through the door and was gone.

 

---

 

This stilted way of being was the constant the next few days until Aziraphale had enough. Crowley wasn’t sleeping. He was barely eating. The already slender frame turned into something skinny, almost gaunt again, and Aziraphale couldn’t bear to look upon it.

Crowley was still fragile. Something he would have liked to forget after that impressive speech the redhead had given him. He was still so very fragile and still dependent on Aziraphale for his sense of safety and wellbeing.

So Aziraphale had a chaise brought into his room and placed near the fire. He put a pillow and a blanket on it from his own bed and then he left a letter for Crowley in his room.

Crowley was always outside now. And Aziraphale wasn’t sure that he wasn’t harming himself if he was being honest. He’d just found new ways. And the worst part was that Aziraphale understood. Sometimes, the pain was the only way he had been able to push through his own dark moments.

“My lord?” Crowley rapped on his open door, holding the letter. “Do you wish for me to sleep in here?”

“I wish that you might sleep through the night for once.” Aziraphale made himself look at him. Really look at him. At the dark shadows under his eyes. At the stretching of skin over bones. At the hair that was still so short.

Crowley had everything taken away from him, regardless of who his parents were or weren’t. He’d suffered as Aziraphale had suffered. And as much as Aziraphale might wish him to be, he wasn’t the enemy the Serpent King was. He was just a man. A man who could one day become a symbol like the Serpent King. And what kind of king he might be could very well depend on how Aziraphale treated him right now.

If someone had tried to help his family, perhaps he would not have ended up the way that he currently was.

Crowley needed him. Not even romantically. Just needed him to keep going. And Aziraphale had been neglectful as of late. Trying to recover from the truth that kept creeping between them and forcing them apart. “I want you to feel safe again.”

A little scoff but Crowley fidgeted in the doorway. Part of him wanted what Aziraphale was offering. Aziraphale could tell that much.

“Thank you, my lord.”

“So… if you’d like… if you have bad dreams, you could rest in here.” Aziraphale offered. “It’s safe.” He stressed. Any weapons he had in the room were well-tucked away. Easy access for him in case of intruders but not so visible that Crowley would think this was a trap to assassinate him next.

For all his distance, Aziraphale couldn’t fathom attacking Crowley.

“Understood.” Crowley ducked his head down and slipped away. Aziraphale watched him go with a little sigh, turning his attention back to his books. He’d been reading more than usual lately, just to try to get through the past few days. Perhaps it was time to be more present again. More proactive.

 

---

 

That night Aziraphale couldn’t sleep. How could he? The thought of Crowley coming in, needing comfort, kept him up. He got up and sat on the chaise, staring at the lantern by the chaise. Perhaps he should try reading again, to distract his mind enough until he could accept sleep.

And then Crowley screamed. It was just the one scream, lone and piercing, but it made him jump all the same. And then it wasn’t even a full minute until Crowley showed up in his doorway.

“May I?” He rasped, eyeing Aziraphale in the light. His forehead shone with sweat and his sleeping clothes were plastered to his body.

“Of course.” Aziraphale nodded, staring at him. Crowley crossed the room and sat on the couch, leaning against him. It took a second for Aziraphale to turn but then he held Crowley in his arms, the two of them laying down together on the chaise like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Crowley clung to him, even after he fell back to sleep. Aziraphale fell asleep quickly afterwards. No more nightmares for the both of them, at least, for tonight.

Chapter 27: A Foiled Seduction

Crowley woke up plastered to Aziraphale’s chest with no way of telling which part was him and which part was the assassin who had somehow taken his heart as well as his biological father's life. He raised his head to look at the other man, at his parted pink lips, that he wanted to taste again before he gazed at the strong chest that rose and fell with steady breaths. The very one that made him feel so safe when he rested his head against it.

They might not be friends or lovers at the moment but Aziraphale trusted him enough to sleep unbothered, even as he awoke. Fuck him. Crowley wanted to kiss him. Wanted to be pulled back into the assassin’s arms like he was made to fit there.

Fuck the crown. He never cared about shit like that. He had always been the bug trying to avoid being squashed. Never the shoe. Crowley had never felt like he fit outside of his mother’s arms until Aziraphale…

Enemies by birth but somehow, they fit together in a way Crowley couldn’t understand. He dared to believe that Aziraphale felt the same way. He hadn’t murdered him yet. He had let him sleep in his room. Had invited him. He’d been waiting for Crowley last night and then they’d fallen back together like nothing had happened.

Aziraphale wanted him too. He had to. Crowley couldn’t imagine him acting this way if he didn’t care.

Crowley just had to help him along. Perhaps… an outfit that might double as an invitation. A signal. That Crowley was still his if he wanted him. Oh, Crowley desperately wanted Aziraphale to still want him! 

He slowly, carefully extricated himself from the tangle of their limbs, and opened Aziraphale’s wardrobe. He selected the silkiest robe the man owned, making a mental note that he needed some finer clothes if he was to be his. The silk was embroidered with natural motifs like birds and flowers, a deep burgundy that called to Crowley all on its own. He stripped right there and stepped into the robe, skipping any of the undergarments that went underneath, skipping the tunic and pants as well.

It was how Aziraphale had dressed him before he’d consumed him with his tongue and teeth, before he’d swallowed him down with his mouth and his throat. It was a signal that he could do that again if he’d like. A signal that Crowley was still his. That Crowley would submit on any and every level if it meant having him back.

It was a plea.

---

When Aziraphale woke, it was to the pleasant smell of breakfast wafting from the kitchen. He sat up, glancing around the room, and then got up, his feet padding quietly on the wooden planks. Crowley was there, just bringing the kettle of tea to the table. He hadn’t noticed Aziraphale yet, so focused on his task, and Aziraphale allowed himself the indulgent luxury to just look at him.

Despite his fragility, he was still so gorgeous. Like a fine statue carved from marble. Hair like flame. Aziraphale supposed that made him a moth– a fleeting thought that made him smile to himself.

Crowley glanced up.

“Good morning.” He gave him a tentative smile, a smile Aziraphale was in a hurry to return. He noted the robe next, how it was one of his, and the way that it was tied, like a simple tug of the tie would have it slipping off of Crowley and onto the floor.

“Good morning.” He dipped his head in acknowledgement. “You seem more rested today. I’m glad.” Crowley shrugged, the silk slipping lower down his shoulder. Aziraphale’s eyes stuck to the exposed pale skin, feeling the sweetest agony. This man. He made turning away from him near impossible. A moth to the flame indeed!

He stepped forward and then caught himself, noting how Crowley’s eyes widened a fraction before he gave him a beguiling smirk. Crowley was playing a dangerous game but without the realization of how easily he could win. Aziraphale would fold if it meant getting to pull him close. To pull Crowley into himself yet ago.

No. No! There needed to be boundaries! He couldn’t relent now. It’d been four fucking days since the revelation and five since they’d been intimate. He could control himself. He had to. He had to be strong. For both of them. Not just himself.

A knock sounded at the door and they both turned at the sound, startling like deer in the meadow. Job stuck his head in.

“Sorry.” He said quietly, sensing he’d interrupted something. “Someone’s here to see you, m’lord. Says his name is Lord Sandalphon?”

“Dammit.” Aziraphale cursed. “Very well. I will be at the estate in a moment.” He glanced at Crowley. “Suppose you should–”

“Sir, you need to come now.” Job said quietly. “He’s insinuating a whole lot of things and if you come alone… well… I know you want this to be an estate of peace.”

Aziraphale got up from the chair and stepped over to Crowley. He fixed his robe, closing it as tightly as it would go before fastening the sash so securely that Crowley thought he might need Aziraphale’s help to get out of it when this was all over.

“Sandalphon is an absolute creep. Do not allow him to touch you, no matter what he says. You are mine.” The last part was hissed softly as Aziraphale headed towards the door, Crowley only a few steps behind him. He couldn’t deny how it made his heart skip a beat and then beat even faster. Damn whoever this man was that interrupted, who had Aziraphale rattled, because Crowley had been sure Aziraphale had been about to give in. He caught up with the other man, grabbing his hand. He pulled him back, not sure what exactly he was looking for but knowing he needed more of Aziraphale before they faced this new obstacle. Aziraphale turned, gazing at him like he had that night, and then he took his face in his hands and kissed him deeply.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Job groused. “I said to hurry.”

“We’re coming.” Aziraphale didn’t even look away from Crowley, stroking his thumbs over his cheeks. He leaned in and kissed him again, pressing their foreheads together a second later. “Stay close to me.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Aziraphale.” Aziraphale corrected softly.

“Yes, Aziraphale.” Crowley gave him a small smile. A cheeky smile. “I’ll stay close to you.”

“Good.” He whispered, kissing him again. Crowley shivered, kissing him back with everything he had.

“Let’s go before Job yells at us again. He whispered and Aziraphale sighed.

“Fine. But we will come back to this later.”

“I’m counting on it, Aziraphale.” Another shared smile and then they were hurrying out the door with an impatient Job at the lead. Whatever came next– they would face it together.

Chapter 28: The Unwanted Visitor

Summary:

Tw: groping and mild peril.

“When I heard you moved out this way, I told Henry, we have to go over and visit our new neighbor.” Sandalphon sipped on his cup of tea, staring at Crowley. “And I’m so glad we did. I never would have imagined you having such an attractive staff. Why, he can come to attend to me this evening if he isn’t otherwise occupied.” Crowley shuddered, stepping away to go sit at the table on the side of the room, sitting across from Sandalphon’s servant, Henry.

“Crowley attends to the kitchens and my office. He isn’t a bed warmer.” Aziraphale interrupted.

“Well, he could try it for tonight, if he’d like.” Sandalphon smirked, flashing his gold teeth. “He’s very nice to look at. And that robe must have cost a fortune. He must have warmed someone’s bed amazingly well to be given such a thing.”

“It’s mine.” Aziraphale revealed. But he might as well said what he was truly thinking. He’s mine. They all understood the claim. Henry glanced over at Crowley who ducked his head down with reddening cheeks.

“Ah, so his evenings are occupied. Well– Aziraphale– I must say— I didn’t think you had it in you. We all assumed your dead wife had taken your cock with you. But no, all it took was such a lovely man to stir up your passions.” Aziraphale gritted his teeth and reached for his tea cup, nodding in a non-commital way. He imagined all the quick ways he could kill this awful, leering man in front of him, trying to keep his cool.

Sandalphon was notorious for getting under people’s skin. He was after something, no doubt, and Aziraphale needed to stay calm and learn what it was.

He needed to know if the Queen was involved in Sandalphon’s visit or if this was just a visit of his own whims.

But so help Aziraphale if Sandalphon or his men even so much as looked at Crowley—

“What was what?” He asked quietly, realizing he’d missed Sandalphon’s last statement. 

“I said— if I had known you enjoyed the company of men, I would have paid you a visit sooner. Forget your pretty slave, perhaps I can occupy your evening tonight.” Crowley’s head whipped to the side and he glared at Sandalphon before remembering where he was and what role he was to play. He folded his hands and ducked his head down but not before he gave Aziraphale a look. A look that firmly meant no.

Aziraphale hid his chuckle.

“I don’t think Crowley wants to share.” He smiled. “He knows my affections are not casual and so I will respectfully have to decline.” Sandalphon grinned, unbothered by the rejection. Or perhaps he was just slow enough to not know when he was being rebuffed. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t be in such a hurry to decline my offer. You could use some allies. And here I thought you were so close with the Queen.” Aziraphale’s stomach dropped but he kept his expression polite. “Tell me, Aziraphale, what service did you provide the Queen to receive such a reward?”

“I found her a whole mountain of gold, enough to pay for all her wars.” Aziraphale answered carefully. “And then I found her twenty more.”

“The Queen had enough gold.” Sandalphon sniffed, calling his answer into question.

“Well— she was happy for more.” Aziraphale answered calmly. “Whatever it is you’re looking for, Lord Sandalphon, I’m sure you won’t find it. Just like your lineage connecting you with the Queen.”

“We’re second cousins!” He snapped and Aziraphale smiled, nodding his head.

“Of course.” He gestured to the table between them. “More tea?”

“Sure.” Sandalphon hissed. Aziraphale gestured and Crowley stepped over, filling both their cups. He set the tea cup down and Sandalphon grabbed him, pulling him into his lap. He went to fight or to flee but a blade at his throat cut him short. He froze and Sandalphon chuckled, low and dark in his ear. His other hand pressed against Crowley’s stomach and the redhead bit his tongue to keep quiet as his hand skimmed lower.

“Unhand my servant.” Aziraphale sighed tiredly. “I am bored with your games, Lord Sandalphon.”

“How is this for the queen’s favor, you cunt.” Sandalphon spat, his gold teeth gleaming before he bit down on Crowley’s ear. Crowley yelped, bucking up in his lap and the blade pricked his skin, a single rivulet of blood running down into the silk. “Take this off.” Crowley nodded, showing he understood, showing that he’d comply, and started to undo the sash. It was tied so tightly and his fingers were shaking so much that he couldn’t make much headway of the knot.

“I can’t.” He whispered. “He tied it so tight.”

“Cunt.” Sandalphon licked his wounded ear. He jerked on the fabric on Crowley’s shoulder and Crowley started to slip out of the robe that way.

“Enough!” Aziraphale snapped, “This is an affront I will not bear! You may come to visit and drink tea but you may not assault a member of my household for your own whims!”

“And if I told you that my second cousin commanded it?” Sandalphon raised an eyebrow. “What then?”

“I will not allow a member of my household to be assaulted. The Queen knows this.”

“She sure does. I wonder what secrets Luce would have fucked out of you if your lord hadn’t ridden in to save the day.” Sandalphon whispered to Crowley.

“I’ve done nothing wrong.” Crowley whined. “I have not done anything against your queen!”

“You’re from Serpentis and your hair is red. That is enough.”

“My mother was a servant! Her hair was red!”

“A bastard then? From her times bending over on the king’s floors? Hmm?” Sandalphon laughed as Crowley bucked up again, trying to move the blade enough to slip free.

“I am not a bastard!” He hissed.

“No, I don’t think you are a bastard either.” Sandalphon chuckled. “I do think you’re a slut though. I don’t think it matters whose cocks or hands are grabbing you as long as someone want to fuck you, am I right?”

“Go to hell.” Crowley ground out, struggling again. Sandalphon just laughed. 

“Worried he’ll want nothing to do with you if I sully you up right here?” Sandalphon snickered. His hand reached down between Crowley’s legs and squeezed hard. Crowley bit his tongue so hard that it started to bleed.

“Hands off.” Sandalphon swallowed hard, eyeing his own reflection in Aziraphale’s long blade. “Or you’ll be going back to the Queen in pieces.”

“He’s not worth it.” Sandalphon rasped but he let Crowley go. The servant hit the floor and crawled away. He made it out of the room and then fled outside on foot, heading into the forest. “Aren’t you two precious?” Sandalphon sneered. “Aziraphale and his little red headed whore. Tell me then. Does the rest of him match his head?”

“You’re disgusting.” Aziraphale ground out. “Now, whatever permissions you claim the Queen has given you… you will not carry them out without showing me the proof. Luce had papers. Where are yours?”

“They’re at my estate.” He stammered.

“Then the next time you visit and you want to feel up my servant, bring them. Or else you’ll lose your hands.”

“He’s not worth risking all of this.” Sandalphon gestured to the estate. “You’ll see. She’ll burn it down with him inside of it if she thinks you’re disloyal to her.”

“I’ve given her no cause to doubt me.” Aziraphale frowned. “I think it’s time for you to leave. You and your men.” Aziraphale removed his blade from Sandalphon’s neck and sheathed it with a smooth motion that betrayed just how accomplished he was at using such a sword. Sandalphon swallowed hard, a hand on his neck, as he glared over at Aziraphale.

“The Queen will hear about this.” He threatened, heading towards the exit with an angry flush on his cheeks.

“Yes, she will.” Aziraphale threatened back. He had a hunch that Sandalphon had been acting on his own. Now… now he just hoped he was right. He waited until Sandalphon and his men rode away and then he retrieved Job. “Come along.” He sighed tiredly. “Now we must find Crowley.” 

Chapter 29: Drinks on You

Aziraphale found Crowley deep in the forest. He’d left a trail. Hadn’t bothered to run or to hide. He found him in a quiet hollow, near the softly gurgling stream nearby. Crowley was naked, the robe discarded a ways back.

Crowley gazed down at the stream, leaning over to run his fingers through the surface of the water.

“You found me more quickly than I thought you would.” He commented quietly when it became clear Aziraphale didn’t know what to say to break the silence. Apologies seemed pointless with the constant barrage from the Queen and her ilk. At least Aziraphale had defended him before Sandalphon could have his fill.

“I’m surprised you’re not halfway to Serpentis right now.” Aziraphale sighed.

“I would be if I could be.” Crowley sighed too. “It feels so far away. It took us months to get here.”

“If you ride at a breakneck speed and nearly kill your horse, you can make it in a night.” Aziraphale whispered. Crowley perked up at that tidbit of information. “There’s checkpoints now but there’s hidden valleys and back roads everywhere.”

“I just want to be free of this awful place.” Crowley admitted. “Where they don’t try to prove their dominance at every turn. They’ve already conquered us. Why do they have to torment us as well? Do they want to break our will to live?” He stood up and turned to face Aziraphale– the man they would have made his master. He gestured to his body. “This is mine!” His voice cracked and he turned, hissing slightly as Aziraphale stepped towards him. “Fuck him. Fuck them. At least our soldiers would kill their victims. They didn’t do– they didn’t do this!”

He turned towards Aziraphale, a fire in his eyes that Aziraphale didn’t understand. “This is mine! Not yours! Not theirs! Mine!” He let out a strangled sound, wiping his face roughly with his arm as he turned and left angrily.

Aziraphale watched as Crowley stomped further into the brush. He let him go. What could he do? What could he say? It seemed as if he failed Crowley at every turn. He had failed to protect him while being in the very room as the assault was happening. Part of him wished he had run Sandalphon through but he knew that would have been an act of war on his part.

An act of war against his Queen.

Aziraphale wasn’t so sure he had a queen anymore. He’d come to her to avenge his family and in the process… had unleashed a ruler perhaps just as evil. Perhaps the Serpent King had been a necessary evil to balance out her unwillingness to protect those who needed protection the most. The weak and the vulnerable, the hurt and the oppressed.

Perhaps he could follow someone else now. A king who would stand for all, not just the powerful and wicked. Perhaps he could follow Crowley as more than a lover but a ruler as well.

Crowley came back a little while later, finding Aziraphale sitting near the stream on a large boulder. “You didn’t leave.”

“I have nowhere else I’d rather be.” Aziraphale gazed up at him. Crowley tilted his head, words tumbling out of him quickly like water.

“Something’s happened. You’re different. What is it?” Aziraphale sucked in a breath, all his words vanishing from him, as he got up and stood in front of Crowley. Slowly, he eased down onto one knee.

“Should you ever require it… I offer you my sword in times of danger and my counsel in times of peace.” He whispered. “But my heart will be yours through all the seasons, through plenty and through drought. And I would make you mine. My lover, my partner–” his breath hitched in his throat but he continued on,-- “my king.”

Crowley opened his mouth, shutting it quickly, as surprise filtered across his face. Surprise and then affection. He stepped forward, reaching for Aziraphale and taking his hand. He helped him back up to his feet.

“I accept.” He nodded. “What would you ask of me?” These were vows. Vows they would not forget.

“All I ask is that you look out for the forgotten. The ones so easily trod under the boots of soldiers and queens.” Aziraphale shed his robe, a cream colored robe with green embroidery, and fastened it around Crowley, clothing him once more. Fuck Sandalphon and all others like him who didn’t take no for an answer. Aziraphale would find a way to keep Crowley safe– even if it meant committing treason.

“I will.” Crowley vowed. “And I will keep you at my side to ensure that I do not fail. You will be my safeguard to make sure no one is lost or forgotten in Serpentis. Or from any of the lands that would join us.”

“Will you conquer?”

“I only wish to reclaim Serpentis.” Crowley said. “I know there will be generals who want more but Serpentis is my goal. To free her and her people. To rebuild. To leave a legacy that my father would hate.” He smiled wryly. “He wanted me to be different and I am. And I think he would have hated it. I promised my mother I would always be her son instead of theirs and I aim to keep that promise.”

“It’s a good promise. Your mother would be proud.” Crowley ducked his head down but he was smiling. “What was her name?”

“Mariela.”

“My mother’s name was Ida.” Aziraphale told him. “I’d like to think they would have been friends.”

“I think they would have been.” Crowley took Aziraphale’s offered arm and they walked through the forest together. Aziraphale purposefully did not head them towards the estate. They needed a break from that estate and they’d only just arrived.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly. “I wanted to make you a safe place. A place with peace and healing.”

“Silly.” Crowley said fondly. “You already have. You’re right here.” He squeezed his arm gently. He leaned into Aziraphale who leaned his head against his. They walked together for miles before coming to a small town on the outskirt of the woods. “Where even are we?” Crowley asked, amused.

“I don’t know.” Aziraphale shrugged. “I don’t care. As long as we’re together.”

“We are.” Crowley gave him a strange look. “Are you all right?”

“No.” Aziraphale whispered. “But I should be asking you that. Not the other way around.”

“We can both be struggling at the same time.” Crowley leaned into him again. “Even over the same thing. I’m not okay that a creep groped me. No, I’m not. I’m angry at him. I’m angry at this damn country because I know it’s not just me it’s happening to. It’s why I have to do what I have to do. But at least I have an angel to see me through.” He glanced at Aziraphale. “And maybe, together, my angel and I can help everyone else too.”

“I’d like that.” Aziraphale managed, his throat thick. “Feels like I’ve lost my faith in people. I can’t imagine a world where people care what happens to each other, even in another country. Even far away.”

“We can make that world together.” Crowley assured him. “S’only the beginning. You cared about me. That’s the change you’re looking for, Aziraphale. It’s you. S’always been you.” Aziraphale blinked back tears and Crowley guided him towards the tavern. “I hope you have some coins on you.” He smirked at his angel. “Because I need a drink.” Aziraphale nodded, his lips quirking upwards.

“That makes two of us.”

“Cheers.” Crowley leaned into him and kissed his cheek. “Bet I can drink more than you.”

“What are you willing to bet?”

“Oh, Aziraphale.” Crowley purred. “I’m willing to bet everything.”

“You’re on. I am a widower after all.” Crowley barked out a surprised laugh at his dark humor.

“All right, you’re on.” They headed into the tavern, arm in arm. Ready to get absolutely sloshed... as long as they were together.

Chapter 30: Healthy Boundaries and Blow Jobs

The night found them several drinks in, wide smiles, and rosy cheeks. Feet pressed up against the others under the table. And then another man burst into the tavern, searching the room until he found them.

“Alis– Job!” Crowley cheered when he saw him. “Come drink with us!”

“I have been looking for you two for hours! I have half-expected that fool to return with his armies and torches. And I am not man enough to defend an entire estate on my own!”

“He doesn’t have armies. I doubt he even has a proper sword.” Aziraphale snorted into his glass. “I’m sure even you could take him and his guards in a fight.”

“Job is an accomplished fighter. Don’t let his history with horses let you assume otherwise.” Crowley laughed. He waved for another drink and it was bright over quickly. Job grumbled but he took the drink and downed it quickly.

“Another.” He grumbled and Aziraphale raised his hand. A whole round of drinks was brought over to the table and Aziraphale handed over a few more coins. “Did you two even eat anything with all the drinking you’ve been doing?” He’d heard what had happened. The alcohol made sense. The lovey-dovey looks between the two men did not.

“No, we’ve just been drinking.” Crowley giggled, sighing as he gazed into his glass.

“Hey,” Job waved down the barmaid, “three stews and some bread since he’s paying.” He gestured to Aziraphale. She stepped over with her hand open and Aziraphale snorted, placing more coins than necessary in her palm.

“Keep the rest! Buy a pretty dress and go dancing!”

“I wouldn’t mind going dancing.” Crowley murmured, sinking into the table even more. Job and Aziraphale glanced over at him and then the dance floor just three feet away, a lively fiddle playing in the background.

“Shall we?” Aziraphale offered him his hand and he smiled, all bright and bleary, before he took the offered hand and Aziraphale spun him off to the dance floor. Job had not missed how he was wearing Aziraphale’s robe, and here Aziraphale was, wearing just a tunic and pants. Wasn’t how lords were normally dressed. Job guessed he must care about Crowley a whole lot if he was traipsing around like a commoner. Crowley all clad in his fine robe.

What happened today… well… Job needed to find his kids before it happened to them. Or worse. Keziah and Ennon were just teenagers but that wouldn’t put off the worst of men and women.

“Job! Stop scowling and come dance!” His king beckoned him from the floor, from where he swayed with Aziraphale, leaning into him like— like he loved him. Job didn’t feel much like dancing but they’d found Crowley and he had a protector and a lover here in this hellhole. That had to count for something. He sighed all blustery-like as he stood up and then slid into the crowd, coming to try a few steps near the other two men.

Thank fuck he had brought the carriage. He wasn’t sure how any of them were going to make it back to the estate after this.

 

---

They ended up staying the night. Job had his own room where he quickly succumbed to sleep, snoring the night away. Right after he prayed for his sweet Setis’ return. She was pregnant with their third child, hopefully arriving in a couple weeks to Aziraphale’s estate.

Crowley and Aziraphale took the other room, tumbling into bed together before peeling off the other’s clothes. They lay there together in an undressed state, gazing at each other, before Crowley kissed Aziraphale passionately. Aziraphale stopped.

“We’re drunk.”

“I don’t care.”

“Crowley–”

“Just wanna have a good time.” The redhead slurred, grabbing at him. Aziraphale took his wrists and held his hands against his chest.

“Crowley, we can do this when we’re sober. And if you want to do things drunk, we need to talk about it beforehand. Make sure we know each other’s limits.”

“Don’t have any limits right now. Y’can fuck me bloody.” Crowley laughed, missing Aziraphale’s horrified face. “Take what’s yours. Hold me down and–” The rest of the sentence was muffled under Aziraphale’s hand. A hand he promptly licked. “What was what?!”

“I will never ‘ fuck you bloody.’ Do you understand me?” Aziraphale’s tone was stern enough to cut through the drunken haze and Crowley’s smile fell. He’d done something wrong. What had he done wrong?!

“M’sorry.” He shrank back, reaching for the discarded robe and hugging it to his bare chest. “I– what did I do?” He looked lost.

“No. Crowley.” Aziraphale pulled him back close but Crowley curled up away from him. “I meant, I will not use sex to hurt you. It should feel good. It will only feel good with me! Not going to make you bleed.”

“Oh. Thought your kind liked that.” Crowley’s eyes were dull and Aziraphale knew he was slipping away to a poor mental state. “Thought you all like me helpless and screaming underneath you!”

“I am not like them.” Aziraphale vowed. “I don’t like that.”

“But you won’t take me right now!”

“Because you’re drunk! Because I’m drunk! If you want me so badly, I’ll suck you off in the morning when your head is pounding and you're hungover.” Crowley turned to look at him, giggling softly. The dark cloud was gone for the moment.

“I want you to fuck me.” He whispered. “If you'll have me.”

“I’ll have you.” Aziraphale admitted. “I always want you. I’m not going anywhere. But I’m never going to be like them with you. I am going to look after you and take care of you. You’re not just a drunken conquest.” Crowley’s eyes watered and then he looked away sharply.

“Okay, fine.” He huffed before he glanced back over with something that looked like hope in his eyes. “Hold me?”

“Always.” Crowley snuggled against him, asleep faster than he’d ever admit in the morning, and Aziraphale cursed every person who made Crowley feel like he was worth nothing more than a rough fumble in the corner. He cursed Sandalphon for what he’d done today and the soldiers who had mistreated him every step of the way here. He didn’t want that to come forward into their relationship. Into their safe space.

Crowley was safe with him. Crowley was treasured with him. He always would be, even if this flame between them spluttered out and faded into nothing but smoke. And with that thought, Aziraphale tightened his arms around his sleeping companion and started to drift himself.

---

In the morning, Crowley turned to him with a grin and Aziraphale smiled fondly, stroking the side of his face gently. A soft movement that had Crowley melting under his touch even before he leaned over and kissed him deeply.

“You still want me to take you?” He asked in a rough morning voice and Crowley froze under his touch, eyes going wide. He hesitantly shook his head and Aziraphale snorted softly, more relieved than he cared to let on.

“I was promised that mouth.” Crowley responded. “I’d be open to that.”

“Mm.” Said mouth moved down to his neck and Crowley made a ngh sound that went straight below Aziraphale’s waist, stirring his cock to arousal. 

“How gorgeous you are.” Aziraphale murmured against his skin. “So perfect for me.” Crowley was gripping the bedding tightly, trying to stay contained in his body as Aziraphale took his cock in his mouth, not wasting time this morning on teasing him. His fingers stroked the underside of Crowley’s balls, fondling them gently as he took more and more of his length down his throat. Crowley glanced down to see Aziraphale staring right back, a hunger in his eyes that should have scared him but it didn’t.

Aziraphale wanted him. That much couldn’t be denied. But unlike the others, Crowley trusted he’d wait until Crowley said yes and meant it before he fully took him. And with that thought, he moaned the blond’s name, noting where Aziraphale’s hands were. One gripping at the end of the bed and the other down the front of his pants.

“Yes.” He whispered, arching his back as he was completely swallowed down. “I want to come with you, Zira.” Aziraphale’s eyes darkened and he hummed his agreement around his mouthful– the both of them coming quickly a few moments later.

Aziraphale was nuzzled against his neck a little afterwards, once they were cleaned up.

“I’m going to have to send Job to get us fresh clothes.” Aziraphale smirked, eyes closed, feeling very satisfied on two accounts. “I think we’ve soiled all the ones we had.”

“Pity.” Crowley’s tone implied the opposite. “If only there was a few other positions we could try while we wait.”

“Crowley.” Aziraphale snorted.

“Mm, taking each other’s cocks in our mouths at the same time, perhaps?”

“You devil.”

“Oh, I’m only getting started.”

Notes:

I hesitated to have them be intimate together right after Sandalphon but went forward with it because Crowley uses sex as a coping mechanism. It's been hinted at but never said out right. So him seeking Aziraphale out is him looking for release and recovery in his own way. And Aziraphale, bless him, is going to make sure there are healthy boundaries in their relationship. (Which Crowley will get to do as well-- but he's kind of learning about all of that from Aziraphale right now and they'll have a good talk about it in a couple chapters).

Chapter 31

Things were quiet.

Time passed.

Things stayed quiet.

Sure the thoughts of storms and wars to come lingered in the background but the estate was quiet. Aziraphale and Crowley found their way around each other with a softness neither of them had properly known before. An intimacy they had both lacked in previous relationships, an intimacy they hadn’t known they could miss until they knew what it was like.

They talked more. They kissed more. They fooled around sometimes, enjoying the release and the intimacy that came with being together. They slept together in the same bed almost every night. Aziraphale and Crowley both slept the very best when they were curled up against each other or touching each other in some way.

Crowley had gotten more shy as they’d gotten closer and Aziraphale had enough sense to realize he was getting to know the real Crowley under all the hurt and pain and bravado. The servant who was raised by a servant only to find out he was the spawn of an iron-fisted king thrust in the middle of ruin and war. Vengeance. Freedom.

He was still just a man. A man with fears and scars. Dreams and hopes. Likes and dislikes.

Here with Aziraphale, he could just be Crowley. A man sorting through a lot of big expectations placed on his shoulders and a war already brewing between his heart and his mind. Trying to heal from the unspeakable while having a greater responsibility to his people. Aziraphale gave him quiet tasks on occasion but he also gave him the freedom to do whatever he wished. And more often than not, Crowley found himself outside, cultivating a garden. Putting down roots in a place he knew he could not stay forever.

He could plant a garden anywhere. There was only one Aziraphale. As long as he got to keep Aziraphale, he would be all right. So he kept on planting, investing, in both the garden and his blossoming relationship with Aziraphale. The one person he felt like he could still trust.

“Hey.” Aziraphale’s arms came around him from behind and Crowley let himself be embraced, melting back against the blond’s chest. A kiss found his temple and Crowley had to smile. “It’s so hot.” Aziraphale whined. “Want to go swimming with me in the river? Clothes are… completely optional.” He purred in the redhead’s ear.

“Mm, I still have to weed the last garden bed.” Crowley glanced back at him. “I can meet you there soon?”

“I’ll wait.” Aziraphale humphed.

“You could change out of your five hundred layers for once and just wear a robe.” Crowley reminded him.

“My father would turn in his grave.”

“From what I’ve heard about him,” Crowley snorted, “good. He deserves a little tossing and turning.” He knelt down elegantly, sinking his long fingers into the dirt. Aziraphale started a little too long, imagining all sorts of places for fingers to sink into. He watched as Crowley took the weeds out carefully, root and all, and then tossed them into a pile for burning.

“Yes, but–”

“Dying horrifically does not forgive him of his sins.” Crowley said quietly. “It didn’t excuse my father. It doesn’t excuse yours.” Aziraphale made an unimpressed sound that usually meant Crowley had struck a little too close to the heart of the matter. He let him go and then started undoing his robe right there in the garden.

“Fine.” Aziraphale’s father hadn’t tried to be a cruel father but he had been… unbending in his approach with his son. His son who was so different from him, who had needed a different approach. More understanding. Less rigidity.

“Don’t let Job see you. He’s still scarred from the inn debacle.” Crowley teased, distracted from the garden already as Aziraphale undid his tunic and then stripped off the undershirt underneath that.

“I told you to make sure the door was locked!”

“I thought it was!” They exchanged a look and then burst out laughing. Job had been spared from seeing anything too intimate by Aziraphale’s quick moves with the blankets… but there had not been time to move from a position that let him know exactly what had been in each of their mouth’s seconds prior.

A good memory despite the initial fear of being discovered in an intimate position, heat and pleasure coursing through his veins.

Aziraphale shed more layers and Crowley pulled less weeds, kneeling back to soak in each and every inch of skin slowly exposed. Heat was building, not just the burning sun on his head and back, but below his waist. Something was stirring. Something Aziraphale stirred in him almost every time.

“How’s the garden coming?” Aziraphale gazed over at him, bare for a moment before he pulled his robe on and loosely tied it around his waist. Crowley mourned the loss of vision that his nude lover was. As ornate as his robes were, beautiful works of art and craftsmanship, none could compare to his lover’s body unhindered by any clothing.

“It’s growing well.” Crowley murmured.

“And the weeds?”

“Growing just as well. Maybe even better.” He snorted softly, forcing his gaze back at his work before him before glancing down at something else that was growing quite well in Aziraphale’s presence.  Aziraphale followed his gaze and snorted.

“Come along.” He waved. “I’ll help you finish weeding tonight when it’s cooler. You and I have an appointment at the river. I’ll kiss you wherever you’d like best. All over if you’d let me.” Crowley smiled indulgently, rising from his knees.

“I’ll let you.” He whispered back huskily. “Make me feel good. Make me all yours again, Aziraphale.”

“You’ve already guessed my intentions, clever one.” Aziraphale winked, tugging him close. “I’ll let the whole forest hear how pretty you come undone by my hand. And my mouth.”

“And your cock?” Aziraphale frowned.

“Are you sure?” He whispered, realizing what his paramour was offering. “I haven’t packed any oil.”

“Then I guess you better run along and pack it.” Crowley teased with a warm smile. He batted his eyelashes and stuck his tongue out at his lover. Aziraphale snorted, the surprise replaced by fondness and a newfound sense of anticipation. “I’m quite sure.” Aziraphale kissed him deeply before he pulled away. “I’ll be back before you know it, dearest.” He hurried away, adorably so, like a newborn colt. Not wanting to keep his lover waiting all while making sure he had the tools necessary to be a good lover.

Dearest.

Crowley was sure he might melt right there on the spot and not from the heat. Aziraphale was sweet and kind to him in ways no lover had ever been and Crowley knew he was starting to fall for him. He sure wouldn’t be letting him fuck him if he wasn’t falling for him. He had wanted to wait with Aziraphale. Wanted to be sure. There was too much riding on them, on him, Crowley, to be casual or quick. Especially after everything. He wanted– no– he needed sex to be special between them. Needed it to matter. Needed to be able to trust Aziraphale with his life…

And now? Now he had a feeling that he did.