Work Text:
Once they got over the pants-shitting terror, humanity as a whole felt pretty vindicated that dragons existed. The habitat wasn’t so much ‘caves in fairytale kingdoms’ as it was ‘cozy timespace folds in aesthetically-appealing nebulas with a view’, but how were they supposed to know that until space travel really got going outside of their own proverbial backyard?
The first report had been from a highly-respected captain, who had submitted himself for a full brain scan before finalizing his report, just in case. An unthinkably immense anomaly on a navigation reading had condensed and condensed into a merely improbably large conglomeration of wings and claws and eyes, blinked down its body and sparkled at them, said
I̸̧̛̥̲̯̪̜̙͗̂̄͌͛͑̽̈̆͐͊̂͝͝n̵̨̪͓̖̲̹͆̒ẗ̸͍̠̣̫̤͓̖́̐̓͆͂̇̓͒̿̍̈́̕͜͝é̵͈̗̺̮̠̍̀̿͋̊͜͜ͅr̷̻̖̬̻̈́́͋̾̇̆̅̈́̔͂̽̉̀̆̚ͅĕ̷̝̻͉̫͍͍̼͈͂̈̀̓ͅͅs̴̡̠̺̫̣̞̲̬̜̩̳̓̄͐̎͠͠ẗ̶̨̹̰̦͕́̾̎̚̚̕i̶̬̝̬͉̻̺͕̖̬̤̪͋͋̚n̴͖̏̇͆g̶̨̢̰̠͇̳̜̻̗͌̈̌̽ͅ
(“Interesting")
and then soared away amiably.
It was written off initially as ship-wide hysteria, and then a week later the being had come back and flown slow circles around the ship, sending little mental greetings and expressions of delight and curiosity to the hundreds of humans within. Some of them had seizures, others bled from the ears and eyes, but there were no fatalities. It was described by the victims as being admired by an entire stadium concert at full blast from the speakers from an arm’s length away.
The being had flown away in slow spirals that diffused into vast clouds that blinked out of discernment on their instruments. No other human ships saw one for another sixty years. By then of course, they had met so many other species in significantly less kind circumstances, and it was only another literal fly-by.
The intermittent records coalesced over the centuries to a general title and habits, mostly learned by hearsay. They had been lucky, apparently, that the first ship had escaped at all. Most other creatures that the entities showed interest in only lasted long enough to report such before vanishing. Presumably they were eaten. The Dragons were distant, solitary, vast, and showed no interest in any form of currency or need of any other species. They were to be avoided and admired from a distance.
Also human pilots were warned not to try to take aggressive maneuvers either towards or away, as that seemed to pique their interest. Another deathworld species had opened fire to no effect, and the Dragon had flown close while the plasma passed through it unnoticed. The redacted military reports that were eventually shared didn’t have any details about the size of the ship or the weaponry, but did mention loss of the thousands of crew within and how the Dragon had seemed so cheerful in its mental broadcast of ‘spicy!’ before it wrapped around the actively-firing ship in the middle of its squadron, and collectively vanished. Regrettably the majority of the remaining squadron survivors had permanent frontal lobe damage from the shout.
So humanity was vindicated. Dragons were real, and were of course terrifying. They were unkillable and would either injure or eat you. Then the humans got on with the everyday life of expanding and colonizing more worlds than they had dreamed of. It was a good era to be an intelligent mammal.
Inevitably as space travel became a moderately-expensive mode of transportation as opposed to the exclusive cutting-edge domain of highly-trained select individuals on government ships, it came to pass both that small individual ships became economically feasible and that eventually one pilot would not be what could be generally termed as ‘neurotypical’.
His name was Anthony J Crowley, and he was an engineer.
He was a human, slightly underweight and slightly overtall for his species, and he was most frequently described as ‘weird’ with varying amounts of respect or disdain depending on if the speaker benefited from his intelligence or not.
Approximately halfway through his lifespan, Crowley was also approximately halfway through an extremely long trip from the main company headquarters to a microplanet worksite, when the loudest voice he had ever heard ricocheted inside his skull like a sock full of gravel.
L̷̻͇̮̠̯͇̖̟͙̖̱͛̆̈̑͊͋̇̒̿̉͊̚̕͘o̷̧̢̦̲͓̬͉͓͊̽͗̆͆́͂͌̓́͘͠ͅǫ̶̡̨͇̳̖̩͚̰͎̬̲̩̊̀̾͒͂̏́̾͘͝k̷̨̡̡̦̩̖͚͍͕̠̻̍̌́̀̈̐͌̀͛̊̾̔͘͠͠ ̷̡̪̖̈̌̈͒̌̔̈́̀̏̾͝ã̶͍͔̩̖̰̙̰̯̾̄͊̈̅̔̓͐̏̋̾̕̚̕t̷̮̉̊͆̈́͛̃̓̀̏͊͝͝ͅ ̴̠͎͈̃͊͌́̒́̈́̄͊͂͋͛͠ͅy̴̳̪͑̀̿̇̇̑̑̐ò̷̲̯͇̔́̌̉̚̚ů̵̥͉͖̙̥̓̈́͋͌͝.̴̢̡̝͇̣̜̗̗͎͕̪̮̘̠̝̆͝ ̸̢̢͈̗̗̪̭͚̠̘̠͋́̍͌̊̀̐͋͋͊̎̐̚͘Ÿ̷̧͉̠̭̟̹̻̦̱͎̲̭̮́̌͋̈́̈̒ô̸̧̥͓̥̽̋̑̈́̇̌̔̍̃̓̀̚ű̶͉̖͓̞̣̝̦̿͜'̵̛͓̘͇̟̲̰̥͉̙́͆̿̃̏̋̿͂͗͑̒͠͝͝r̶̢̰͓̥̗̲͉̫̳̃ë̵̝̱͈͍͔͙̌͆ ̵̡͔̳̗̬̥̥̜͒͛͆͌̀̽͂̕͘g̴̡̢̧̺̠̪̱̖̯͎͂̎̓ṏ̸̢̡̢̺̗͉̺̯͓̼͙̦̪́̂̍̚͜ŗ̸̼̳̹̺̠̣̺̮͓̜̹̦̻̅͋͋͊̈̒g̸̛̳̲͇̪̞̘̯̀̃ĕ̷̝̭̠̙̭̝͓̯̔̽̀̑͆̉̊̉̆̓̊͠o̵̙̫̲͘͜u̸͖͖̬̘̤͋̋͠s̶̨̢̱͍͍͈͖͚̤͓̜͙̟͆͑́͜.̶̢̢̛̰̳͍͕̟̻̼̻̦̺̻͊̈͌̂̒͛̄̐̑̀̓͝͝͝
(“Look at you. You’re gorgeous.”)
“HOLY FUCKING HELL!” he screamed. ‘WHAT THE FUCK?”
Ş̷͈̭̪͔̣̱̟̱̹̙̜̲̻̌͐̏̌̔̽̿͋̈́̕͠͝ŏ̵͎̲͖̟̘̲̻͖͊̅r̷͙̤̳̋̏͗̑́̋̑r̶̮̓̏̇̄͑̎̎́̃̊̉̂̚͝ỳ̶̛̤̆̉́̆̿̀̕͘͝͠.̴͕̥͛̊͘ ̷̖̟̰̎́́̀̆̒̓͗̌̇͐̈́́̆̚W̶̡̹̦͎̳̪̯̺͊̈h̴̛͍̗͉̀͋͂͒̔͂́̓a̴̢̮͙͔͕̍̓t̷͕̹͔͖̣̀̇̾͒͠ ̴̞̳͙̫̲̪̯͚̠̲͈̪̯̗̎̒̓̋͜͝w̴͖̗͋̽̍̌͆͆͐͛̀̍͆͊̋̕̚ͅa̷͉͊s̶̡̯̱̻͉͚̜̞͔̯̬͌̏̉ ̶̤͇̟̘̙͙͔̪͂͋̂̉̄̀͆̇͛́̚͠ͅţ̷̘̳̬͍͉̞̟̙͖̹̖̦̞̓̉͋h̶̹̥̮̬́̈̽̆ą̵̻̣̱̞̘̓ẗ̴̡̡̡̧̩̞̰̮̯̣͍̘̥͍͒̂͆̔͆̆̃̕͘͝͝ͅ?̴̞̪̤͋̾̏͗̈́̏̋̌̕͜ͅ
(“Sorry, what was that?”)
Crowley managed to slap the automatic ship controls and covered his ears, tears leaking as he doubled over. “Please, lower the volume. Holy shit ow ow ow I think my ears are bleeding,” he rasped, meaning it with every fiber of himself.
Ī̷̱s̴͖̩͛ ̶͉̜̂̉ṯ̷͓̒̓h̶̭͍͆̈i̵͚̣͆̀ṡ̴̡̫ ̷̟̲͆̕ḅ̸͍́̾é̸̡̹t̶̙͚̿t̶͈̎̂e̵̮̱͌r̶̮͖̔?̵͓̆̒
(“Is this better?”)
Crowley let out a rattling breath, eyes and clenched tight and hands still protectively over his ears. “A bit,” he wheezed. “Not good, but…less bad? Could you whisper or something? Ow.”
”Yes.”
“Wow, great, yeah, thanks,” Crowley hissed. “My brain was turning to goo.”
”Apologies. Thank you for telling me.”
Crowley let out a breath and slowly unkinked his body, only uncovering his ears last. It was quiet. The ship controls glowed green and blue, except for the dim unlit nodes showing that the communication channels were not engaged. “Uh.”
Wherever the voice was coming from, it certainly wasn’t through any of his tech.
”Have you evolved recently?”
“What the fuck?”
”You’re organic. It’s what you do.”
“I repeat. What the fuck?”
”You feel almost exactly like other animals I’ve seen, but you are actually speaking to me instead of making noise, so perhaps you are something new?”
“I’m a human,” Crowley answered slowly. “I know a lot of physics? But pretty sure that isn’t new or a mortal sin. Unless all of the awkward jokes of me ‘being on my own wavelength’ were actually literal. Holy shit maybe it’s true. Holy shit.”
”I admit I am so excited I don’t know what to do with myself. Hello, oh hello. Who are you? What are you like? Can I come closer?”
“Um, sure,” Crowley answered. He paused; thought for a moment; closed his mouth. Sure he tried to project, concentrating hard.
”Oh my, that was rather a lot. Is that what you mean by loud? Oh, thank you.”
“Where are you?” Crowley whispered, waiting for confirmation that he was either having an Alien Encounter or a stroke.
There was blackness and the very dim glow of his instruments. The aircon whirred as it increased the temperature of the cockpit slightly. The viewscreen continued showing endless nothing.
An eye blinked open.
Crowley stared. The eye was the size of his ship and its pupil was full of stars.
More eyes blossomed open. It was a Dragon. He was surrounded, as emptiness became shifting wings and strange glow from surfaces that might be skin or scales or sword blades and were almost visible. There were mouths full of crystalline teeth, opening and closing. Crowley was completely surrounded, as the coiling light condensed closer.
“Look at you,” he echoed softly. “You’re gorgeous.”
The largest eye detonated into sparkles. Crowley was still blinking the black spots out of his vision while his entire ship vibrated around him for long moments. The recycled air inside the cockpit suddenly smelled like fresh apples. ”Oh thank you.”
A swirling vortex of swords spun into being, speeding into a lethal blur. “Um. You’re welcome? Please don’t kill me?”
”Why would I do that? I just wanted to get a closer look at your wing.”
Crowley scrabbled at the controls. “That’s not my wing! It’s my ship! I’m inside the ship. Don’t—”
The swords made contact. The ship exploded into shrapnel.
Crowley floated.
His skin felt oddly tight. Did he have skin? He wasn’t hot and he wasn’t cold. He wasn’t breathing.
”I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m fixing it. I promise I’m fixing it.
Crowley tried to breathe in, but there was nothing. He tried to exhale, and there was nothing. He wasn’t in pain, and there was something like feathers nearby, he thought. Everything was soft. He wished he could move.
”Are you metallic? You have iron in various ionic configurations everywhere, but you and the ship are separate, I’m sure of it now. Which parts are important?”
Crowley had nothing, and was almost nothing himself, but he tried his best to expand whatever he was and hold on to the softness nearby. He might be dreaming. Relax he tried to say.
”Not until I am finished. I am sorry, truly. Please stay calm.”
Does telling someone to stay calm or to calm down ever help? Doesn’t it always make it worse?
”And yet, you told me to relax.”
Have to give you that one. Am I dead?
”No, you are simply not actively living right now.
You’ve lost me.
”Ǹ̷̼̥̺̝̝͓̻̦̯̗̗̤́̄̔̀̾̈͊̎͝Ȯ̸̧̨͔̻̞̤̭̯̹͖̺̪̙̰̤̉͛̆̇̈́̅ ̶̡̯̩͍͛͛̐I̶͙̖̥̳̗̩̖̩̟̖͎̖̦̲̼̓̒̉̀͑͒̋̕ ̶̢̨͇̥̜̦̹̟̺͔͖͈̿̈́̽͊́́͆̕͜͝͝͠H̷̠͖̯̫̑̓̅̒͆̒͘A̵̫͙̭͓̥̙̫̲̥̋̓͂V̸̡̨̛̙͕̯͈̞̀̂̀̌͐̂̏̇͊͗̀̈ͅË̵̡̡̧͚̩̣͕̲̮̙̞̲̮́͒̽̈̿́ ̷͖̭̱̩͇͔̹̩̳̙̽̀͛̓̽͘N̵̫̪͕̞̐͛̊̀͛͂̃͂̔̿̓̉O̴̟͑̾́̒̊̿̔̈Ţ̸̨͕͎̝̤̀̋́̌͜.̴͍̠̩͎̮̭̭̳̦̂́̍̔̑͜͜ ̷̡̥̤̹̥̟͔̰̋̊̓̍̚͜͠I̵̢̨̨̛̛̪͖͈̤͓̜͕̳̫͚̓̆̍͐̏̍͐͂̈̐͆͘͠ ̶̨͖̬̞͉̻̲̒͗͜J̶͓̭̤͔̹͍͎̜͑̈́̅̒́̌̎́͘̚͝Ű̶̟͉̙̞̱͇̲͔͗͊̔̔̀̆̽͠Ś̷̗̲͓͉̰͙͎̿͑̽̂̔T̵̡̡̧̖̫̲̻̟̠̩͔̈̓̀́̋̋̊̎͗̈̀͒̚ ̴̧̠̬̬̪̥͂̽̏̓̀̈́͗̄̈̽͘̕F̷̹͙͔͕̥̦̝͎͎̯̒͂̂͒̒̄͐̽̾̉̐͛͠͝Ò̶̧̥͍̖̹̺͖̲̾̅͜Ȕ̸̺̝͔̤̝̦̦̾̉̐̄N̵̡̢̖̪͓͓̗̤̼͙̱̪̮͌̃͛̅̆̒̑̍̍͜͝Ḑ̵̢̨̲͔͖̖̰̺̳̫͉͑͜͝ ̷̡̛̛̝̮̘̮̦̖̥͋̿͛̀͋̄͛̈́̽̾̀̕͠ͅY̸̧͚̲͇͖̗̘̗̩̬̠̱̦̍́̾̈͌͘̕͝Ơ̷̢̮̳͎̝̝̱̣̜̟̦̘̋̅͒̇̍̀̊͘͝͝ͅŬ̷̢̝̼̖͔̣̲̮̙̯̭̽̓́̿͋̾̐̂ ̵͚͈̝̩͓͇̘̪̪̿̈́̈́̏͌̄̅͑̉̀̏͒͘̕͠Ä̶͉́̑̂͝N̷͉͚̙̠̹̲̲͇̬̉̅̆͗̐̀̑̐͑̈́̈͂͘͝ͅD̶̢̛̜̬̫͋͊̐̔̈̑͌̈͂̌̕͠͝͠ ̶̫̹̫͈̙̿̅̐́̂̊̕͘Y̴̛̮̘͉̭̩̒́̒̀̏̓̓̋͛̾̀̅̿̚O̷̢̨̜͔̳̠̩̠̺̟͇̺̻̲͂̈͆́͗͗͂̚͜Ǔ̷̩̫̤̼̗̈̕ ̸̟͍̱͆Ẁ̸̛̰̻̍̌̆̊̃͌̍̒͝͝Ȋ̸̧̡̨̺̜̝͇̘̟͈͙̝̂̓̕L̵̨̙̝̞̱͊̇̿͝͠Ḽ̸̘̪̦̣̭͎̺͆̿́͌̚ͅ ̷̧͔̦̪͎̙̣͋̎̀̇̈́͋Ņ̸̛̮̳͎̞̲̹͖̯͕̿̈̾̐̃̎͌̽̾̏͘͘͝Ǒ̵̧̢̻͔̘̗̗͍̜̥͖̤́̃̄̑͊͂̆͆̆̑͘̕̕ͅͅT̴̘̥̭̙̰̥̘̬̭̮̮͇̔̀̎̅́̑̅̋̽͜͜͝ͅ ̵̨̛̝̖̥͎̣͎̺̺͚̭͕͍̘͋̾̾̑̑̅͘͝B̷̧̻̻̪̪̳̰̈̇͌͐E̷̛͎̓̃̂̾̊̓̐̾̇̔̚ ̸̧̠͎͇͕͉̱̘͖̦̺̘̰̝͋͆̈́͛̇͋ͅL̸̢̳̜͇͎̣̘̝̳̾̄̉̈̆͐͘̕͝O̵̢̗̮͕͙͉̞͝Ṡ̷̨͖̳̣̹͉͔̪̭̗̻͖͑̑̄͗͋̿͒̾̐͆͐̅̈́͝T̷̬̺̱̭͕̻͉͐̓̓̎̿͌̋̅̉͛̏̇͂͜.̸̹̘̮͈͕̭̝͌̓́ͅ”
(“NO I HAVE NOT. I JUST FOUND YOU AND YOU WILL NOT BE LOST.”)
Didn’t hurt that time. Neat. Still, indoor voice, if you don’t mind.
”Oh no. I didn’t…I am sorry. I am doing my best but I don’t know if I am doing the right things.”
You can’t do the wrong thing, my friend. Whatever you are trying will either work or it won’t.
”I want you to be the way you were before I destroyed your body, but I don’t know what that should look like.”
If I am destroyed, what am I?
”I’m holding you in place. Your thoughts are electrical, but the rest of you is organic and I am having difficulty in reassembling it.”
Holding me in place?
”Yes. I put you inside where time isn’t.
You can control time? Move it?
”Not very well, but yes. I don’t see the need, usually, nor the inclination.”
So why reassemble me? Why not just put me back somewhen before I was destroyed?
”Oh. Could it be so simple? Oh. Oh you are so clever. Where have you been while I was alone?”
I was born fifty years ago. Should I apologize for being late? Not my fault.
”You needn’t apologize, but you will need to make it up to me. All right then. I know how to do this now. I will speak to you again five minutes ago.”
Crowley jolted and flailed. The biosensors in the pilot seat read his sharply elevated heart rate and performed an emergency override on the controls. He gasped and bent over, spasmodically touching his own head and limbs and body, settling with his hands over his face as he trembled.
“I’m gonna need a CAT scan,” he wheezed. It had been so vivid. He could almost feel feathers between his fingers even now. A strange overlay made him shudder. Right now he should be soaring through space, making slight adjustments, being a bit bored. Right now he should be dead. He was both and neither, shaking in his chair and his heart pounding as if it was relearning how.
”I tried to be gentle. I hope I didn’t hurt you?”
“No, it didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t great. It’s fine, just gimme a few to recover,” Crowley mumbled.
Wait.
”Of course. I can be patient.”
Crowley lifted his head and looked through the viewscreen into the constellation that made up his Dragon. They had in fact been gentle, he recalled hazily. They had kept him as close as if his little meat thoughtwaves were a crucial part of their own self. He had not had eyes of his own, but being so close had meant he could see through theirs, as if their form were his, and all of the universe had been so deep how had he not known, and it was so simple, time like strings but not strings like laminar flow of liquid that could be diverted but a careless touch would ruin all of existence…
“Hi,” he said lamely.
A hundred thousand wings stretched and folded like fans, their edges sparking in coronas of blue. Crowley let out his breath in a gust and leaned back in his chair, letting his shoulders drop as the last of the strange overlaid sensations finally passed. He grinned tiredly. “Did you miss me?”
”You are my Crowley. I missed you before you were, and now that I know you exist, I want to keep you with me always.”
“Little intense,” Crowley observed without heat.
There was a long stretch of silent seconds. The ship dashboard lit up with several alarms informing him that the sensors had detected an anomaly and possible Dragon activity in close proximity. Evasive maneuvers were recommended and would commence automatically in 3, 2…
Crowley reached out and pressed a button. The alarms faded to overridden blinking lights.
”Do you forgive me?”
“Yeah,” Crowley answered softly. “Hi Aziraphale.”
Aziraphale the Dragon fluffed their wings and spun a golden orbit around Crowley. In the place within, he had felt their burning heart and colossal strength that made up their core, where Crowley had found their name and their sweet and gentle delight at having met him.
Aziraphale was certain that they weren’t a particularly prime Dragon specimen, and Crowley was immediately and equally certain that they were the only one that mattered. They agreed to disagree on the topic. Crowley continued piloting his little ship on the preplanned route, while Aziraphale spiraled lazily around him. Crowley explained his job a bit during the commute, and Aziraphale listened with the focused attention of a magnifying glass on an ant.
It was Crowley’s turn to listen when docked on a charging satellite station so his ship’s solar panels could splay outward. Projecting mentally while speaking was coming easier, now that he had felt how his Dragon thought, while cradled inside him. He could tune into the frequency now. He ate a protein bar, chewing uncomfortably while hundreds of eyeballs crowded against every viewscreen, almost touching the glass to watch him eat. “You knew I was organic when you met me, this cannot be a surprise to you.”
A dozen eyeballs popped into existence inside the cockpit, and Crowley flailed, almost losing the rest of his lunch.
”If you knew my hoard, you would not be surprised either, my Crowley.”
“So is your hoard a private thing? Pretty sure we’re at least on second or third date territory, you know, what with the, uh,” Crowley waved his free hand and arm in a wide arc that encapsulated the process of complete physical destruction and subsequent reincarnation.
”It is.”
Crowley raised an eyebrow and did his very best to broadcast a facial expression. The eyeballs in the cockpit popped like soap bubbles, and the air smelled like ozone and eucalyptus. He sneezed.
”I have a small pocket a few years from here. I keep knowledge.”
“Knowledge?”
”Yes. It is not a very fashionable choice, but it is mine.”
Crowley finished up and got the ship moving again. Sure, he had attained a new understanding of existence and had actually been killed earlier today, but he was still on the clock. “I am willing to throw down to defend your choice, probably, but I also literally don’t know what you’re talking about. I can feel that you’re proud, but you gotta give me some context.”
”You speak so strangely. It’s charming.”
“Thanks. Stop dodging the question.”
Aziraphale flew beside and around him. There was so much to Aziraphale, and Crowley had done his best to offer up some of himself as well. They very nearly understood each other. It didn’t make any sense, but Crowley liked them. He liked them so much. Crowley was also positive that Aziraphale had a whole lifetime deprived of being teased, and he was exactly the man for the job.
”Every Dragon has a hoard, of course. You organics, you breathe and eat and breed with each other to sustain yourselves. Dragons hoard.”
“Huh. So collectibles with consequences.”
”Crowley.”
“What? Humans collect things too. I have plants at home. Other people collect old metal currency pieces. You haven’t shocked me yet.”
”Most Dragons hoard energy.”
Crowley tried to imagine that. He thought of nebulas and event horizons and star nurseries scattered throughout the universe, and the prey animal in his brainstem curled up in terror. On the other hand, fuck that. “But you hoard knowledge.”
”Yes. I like it. Especially things that no one else knows anymore.”
The cool lanky space-traveling engineer that Crowley tried to be nodded slowly. The inner nerd that had led him to become an engineer in the first place was throwing confetti. “You have a cosmic library with contents that you are constantly growing and defending. And the rarer the better.”
”Yes! I have so much! I even have physical objects.
“Like…books?”
Crowley winced as a razor-sharp image cut into his thoughts, of a vast space crammed with data tablets, scrolls, carved stone, metallic plates, clay slabs, knotted cords, glowing cylinders, and yes, books. “Ow, Aziraphale. Love the enthusiasm, but ow.”
”I’m sorry.
“No, no, it’s all good. You wanted to show me your toys and got excited, I get it. Try not to scramble my brain like eggs, though. Pretty sure that rewinding me would only make that worse. It was hard enough reliving simultaneous timestreams for five minutes when I am as sane as I ever get.”
They flew for a long time in silence. Crowley considered the amazing idea of an effectively-infinite trove of forgotten and lost knowledge, and laughed quietly to himself at the also-amazing idea of an unkillable monstrosity as a librarian.
“Would love to see your stuff. How do you translate all of it? Is language a problem for you?” he asked after a while.
Aziraphale was quiet for another awkward stretch. ”It is.”
“We’re talking just fine.”
”Yes, but the books do not speak.”
They managed to get all the way to Crowley’s destination before he was able to fully parse that, and he scowled while he went through the various airlock procedures necessary to begin his work. “Wait. I need to check something before I get any more pissed off. So you have all of this cool stuff and one-of-a-kind relics and records,” he confirmed.
”Yes!”
“Super neat stuff, which you’ve had since forever,” he went on, angrily typing in his employee numbers and codes and beginning the coordinate sweep he needed. “For literal ages and ages,”
”Yes?”
“And you can’t even read any of it?” Crowley asked flatly.
His tablet blinked as the program went through the first scan, then another one. All of the sensors were functioning correctly, for once.
”No.”
“Well that’s just bullshit!” Crowley fumed. He kept muttering to himself while he worked. Aziraphale spread out and dissipated to cloak the entire microplanet, undulating like a veil in the solar winds. Occasionally an eye would open out of nothing to stare at him, but after the first dozen or so occasions of a spectral observer appearing and then disappearing into invisibility, Crowley didn’t startle quite so obviously. It took barely any more effort to get the rest of the sensor network set up. This really could have been a job for a robot, but the bosses gave orders and didn’t seem to understand shit about fuck. Crowley shut down the site as best he could until the final verification step.
The damn retinal scanner for confirming his identity wasn’t working, for some reason. He tried a dozen times, and what was usually a process done in a literal blink was a whole parade of error messages.
”What are you doing?”
“I need to verify my presence to affirm that I did what I did, just the usual documentation foofaraw, really, but it doesn’t recognize me for some reason,” he grumbled. Aziraphale condensed around him, staring at him, and for the first time, they blinked. All hundred or so individual eyes, blinking in tandem. It was more than a little eerie. “What?”
”When you were inside me—”
“Hot.”
”I can’t begin to imagine what you might be implying,” Aziraphale lied primly. Crowley grinned through his irritation. He might have obtained transcendent awareness of the cosmos while blended with his Dragon, but Aziraphale had absorbed the fundamentals of dirty jokes, which were just as valuable, really.
”When your awareness was held within mine,” Aziraphale rephrased. Crowley snickered. ”Were you paying attention to what I was doing?”
“Yeah, obviously.”
”Ah. Then I have another reason to apologize. You looked through time and saw the patterns of the beginning and end.”
“No such thing. It all goes round,” Crowley corrected absently. Aziraphale rippled around him. ”Just so,” they agreed, very soft, so soft. Too soft. Crowley swallowed.
”Look and see.”
Fumbling a little, Crowley typed in the code for alternative verification procedures and held up the tablet at arm’s length to do a full facial eleven-point ID scan. The camera showed his face as it started the scan, and captured the slow shock as Crowley stared into his own familiar features and the newly-golden shine that glowed from each eye corner to corner.
“I thought that it was just the abyss that looked back,” Crowley rasped.
”I don’t know what you mean by that.”
“Is my head full of the universe now?”
”It always was. How else would you think the way you do?”
The scanner finished its job and blinked to show a completed work order. Crowley numbly put it away. “Not really what I meant, Aziraphale.”
”I know. For what it’s worth, I think you’re just as human as you want to be.”
They talked on the way back. Neither of them could shut up, really. Aziraphale seemed bemused that Crowley was so determined to function as usual, and curious about his life. The problem remained that Crowley had shifted or ascended or was just weirder than ever, and it was visibly obvious. Aziraphale was apologetic but had no suggestions for solving the issue. Crowley got more nervous the closer they came to higher-trafficked space.
“Our sensors can pick you up, you know? Dragons, I mean. I hit all the overrides, but my ship is having the mechanical version of a nervous breakdown, with you so close. Is it going to be an issue when everyone else notices you?”
”That is a good question. I have no idea.”
“Comforting.”
”What do you think will happen?”
“I think that there is going to be panic and I am going to get a lot of really uncomfortable questions from uniformed people in small rooms with big weapons about why I haven’t been annihilated. Heh. If only they knew, right?”
”I would apologize again, but I am suddenly quite sure that you are more pleased to be teasing me than upset at my initial error.”
“Clever, you are. Don’t suppose we could split up and rendezvous later?”
”No thank you. I would rather stay close to you forever.”
“You old romantic, you. I am honestly astonished that you didn’t just pick me up and put me in your pocket to add to your hoard.”
There was a long silence. “Aziraphale, this is the part where you assure me that you wouldn’t do that and it never even crossed your mind to keep me stashed away somewhere with your treasures for all eternity. That wasn’t a consideration, right?”
”No.”
“Aziraphale, you are terrible at lying.”
”Well, if you were safe in my hoard right now, you wouldn’t be wondering how to avoid an unfortunate reception by other organic creatures in eight minutes, would you?
“Wow, you are a snarky bastard when you have your feathers ruffled.”
”Possibly. As a point of curiosity, how do your sensors actually sense me?”
“Er. Think it’s your ionic signature. Something about how you distort typical paired particle spins and a slight positive charge that doesn’t make sense. You’re a sentient ozone anomaly.”
”What if a planet or a long distance or a ship like yours was between me and the sensor?”
“You’re asking questions like me, now.”
”Thank you.”
“Curiosity is a pretty standard human trait, you know. Anyway, to answer you, distance or objects would interfere, since Dragons tend to be pretty diffuse.”
”I see. So if I were very dense, there would be no trouble.” The gentle glow of iridescent colors that had blanketed his view like mist vanished into the plain darkness of empty space. Crowley blinked.
“I guess? Not something that Dragons are, just people, so it wouldn’t trigger.”
”Well if you can, why not? Maybe I could be people.”
“Aziraphale?”
A hand touched his shoulder, fingers gentle, and Crowley screamed at a pitch that he would deny forever.
And he did, whenever Aziraphale brought it up, while they sat in fascinating little restaurants where they became regulars, and while Crowley argued about mathematics with someone who knew just as much as he did for once, and while Aziraphale struggled and sounded out each letter as Crowley taught him how to read. First one language, then another, and then he just brought him translation tables and programs and let him loose.
A pair of sunglasses did quite a bit to keep him passing as a standard human, but after a few decades in which he didn’t age anymore, Crowley took early retirement, alongside his soft-spoken partner who was just a bit odd.
Remembering their first meeting was pretty funny, while they wandered through endless halls of Aziraphale’s hoard of lost knowledge, where time wasn’t, and where Aziraphale could finally enjoy his own treasures, courtesy of his very favorite treasure of them all.