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Whumptober day 17 - Good Omens

Day 17: Blackmail Fandom/Setting: Good Omens, pre-Apocalypse (mid 2000s) Read on AO3 Read on FF.net

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Aziraphale hadn't been himself lately and Crowley didn't like it.

If he didn't know any better, he'd say the angel was avoiding him. He'd declined all of Crowley's suggestions that they meet up for a nice bottle of wine and a chance to complain about their respective Head Offices. He was barely taking calls, always finding a good reason to hurry off the phone with a hint of anxiety. Crowley wasn't hurt, that would mean he had feelings which of course he absolutely did not, not a single one, but if he did have just one feeling it might have been concern.

Something had to be going on. And so, Crowley swiped the best bottle of wine he could find at the store, reminded the owner he'd already paid for it (he hadn't, but he was supposed to do demony things like that), and went straight for the Bookshop.

It was closed, which was always statistically likely, so Crowley headed for the back window and slithered in as a snake, the bottle of wine carefully held in his coils.

Inside, he changed back to his human shaped form and strolled towards the front where Aziraphale could normally be found at a desk or chair with a heavy book.

No angel.

"Oy, Aziraphale!" Crowley shouted, setting the wine down and tossing his dark glasses onto a nearby shelf. "Wine!"

And still no answer, leaving Crowley to frown and prowl around. It could be the angel was just out; it wasn't like they told each other about all of their assignments, but Crowley was starting to feel like he was being left in the dark, and that didn't feel nice. So, when the front door jiggled and opened with a light ring of the bell, he stayed where he was back in the shelves so he could give Aziraphale a proper scare as payment.

The door shut again, then there was a moment of silence, then a long, weary sigh. Crowley frowned, listening to Aziraphale's heavier than normal footsteps cross slowly to the coat rack. He peeked out in time to see the coat slide down off Aziraphale's shoulders, followed by the vest, and then Crowley's snake eyes grew wide with shock and fury.

There were bloody stripes on Aziraphale's back, showing through his shirt. Had he tangled with another demon? Crowley watched Aziraphale reach behind him and gingerly dab at one bloody streak with a soft whimper of pain, and that was enough. The demon stormed from the shelves, making Aziraphale leap around with a squeak.

"Oh, Crowley, it's you," Aziraphale sighed, hand over his heart. "You shouldn't be here."

"What happened to you?" Crowley demanded, ignoring the frankly rude greeting with one of his own. "You're bleeding. Was it a demon?"

"What? No, of course not. Everything's fine. Crowley, please go."

Crowley crossed his arms, fixing his yellow glare on the angel. His forked tongue flicked out, testing the air for hints of sulfur, but what he smelled was even worse. Reeling back, Crowley hissed.

"You smell like Heaven," he said. His jaw clenched. "You smell like you've just been to Heaven, and your back is bleeding." It wasn't hard to connect the dots from there. Crowley's fists tightened. "When I get my hands on Gabriel-"

"It was my own fault!" Aziraphale yelped, more frantic than the situation called for. "I, erm... I made a mistake, and I was justly punished for it. So- so let it go, there's a dear boy, forget you saw anything. Now you really must be leaving. Good day." He stormed towards the back, or really sort of hobbled because no storm moved as slow and painfully as he did.

Crowley followed him, hardly satisfied. "Made enough of a mistake to be flogged?" he hissed. "How? You haven't even had an Assignment in ages!"

"Crowley, please let it go."

"Something's going on," Crowley barreled on. "Since when did we start hiding things from each other?"

They'd reached the back room now, but somewhere at the front of the shop, the bell rang again. The faint tinkling of celestial space followed, an angel in the shop. Aziraphale's eyes grew wider and he shoved Crowley bodily away.

"Go!" he hissed in panic. "Go, go, I'll call you later, please just get out before anyone sees!"

Crowley watched his friend hurry back out to the front, torn. On the one hand, it wouldn't be the first hasty exit he'd made when another angel came to call unexpectedly, of course he shouldn't be found there. His safety and Aziraphale's depended on it. But on the other hand, something was wrong and Crowley wanted—needed—to know what. Frowning, he pulled out his cellular device and opened the video recorder, staying out of sight.

"Ah, Aziraphale!" a cheerful voice rang out, not one Crowley recognized.

"Zaccheus," Aziraphale returned with a distinctly frosty edge. "What do you want?"

"Relax, old boy, only popped in to check on you. That was kind of Gabriel to only give you ten since the others hadn't healed yet."

The others? How many floggings had Aziraphale been getting? Crowley cursed himself for not having pressed the matter sooner.

"Yes, very... kind," Aziraphale stiffly replied. "Now I expect we're through here."

"Ah, well, since you bring it up..."

"Zaccheus..."

Now there was a clear edge of panic that Crowley did not like one bit. He tipped his phone around the door jamb, watching in the screen as a dark-haired angel slowly circled Aziraphale.

"I mean," this Zaccheus angel said, "it's in everyone's best interest for us to keep up this... partnership. Don't you think?"

"I've already taken the fall twice for you now," Aziraphale retorted through gritted teeth. "I did what you asked. I told Gabriel your mistakes were my fault and I took your lashes-"

"For which I'm terribly grateful," the other angel said, beaming. "You were very convincing. I get the impression they rather expect for you to make mistakes, you know, that's why it couldn't have been a better arrangement. And speaking of arrangements, I mean, come now, Aziraphale. Can you really afford not to play along when I need you to? What would happen to your demon then?"

Crowley inhaled sharply as the picture formed a little clearer. So it was blackmail. Aziraphale took this angel's punishments in exchange for not spilling the beans on their partnership?

"You said," Aziraphale spoke up shakily. "You said if I did this, once, you would destroy any evidence. I didn't breathe a word. Zaccheus, please. If you tell Gabriel and he tells Beelzebub, it's not just me who would be in danger, Crowley-"

"Would be demon fodder, yes," Zaccheus beamed. He clapped a hand on Aziraphale's shoulder, not noticing or not caring about the soft whimper it brought as he hit one of the wounds. "So... you do the math... Next time I need you, you're going to be readily available to take the licking, right?"

Crowley saw Aziraphale's shoulders sag and he'd had enough. Turning off the recorder, he kicked the door open with a bang and strode out into the room, brimming with demonic fury.

"Wrong," he snapped, ignoring the terrified yelp from Aziraphale, the stammered insistence that Crowley leave at once what are you doing and focusing instead on a shocked Zaccheus. "You twat. You absolute prick. So that's what's been going on? You found out about our Arrangment and made your own arrangements to have Aziraphale punished for your screw-ups?"

"Zaccheus," Aziraphale cried, holding out his hands. "I didn't tell him, I swear it, I asked him to leave, this isn't what it looks like, please don't tell Gabriel-"

"Oh, he's not going to," Crowley growled, getting in Zaccheus's face. He'd give the other angel this much, Zaccheus didn't back down, but rather smirked.

"I'm not? I have enough evidence to-"

"Evidence that goes nowhere if I kill you right now, makes all the problems go away."

"No!" Aziraphale squeaked, bodily shoving the two apart and standing in front of Zaccheus, pleading eyes gazing up at Crowley. "Don't, Crowley, please, don't kill him."

Crowley sighed. "Y' never let me do anything fun," he grumbled. The demon glowered at a more uncertain looking Zaccheus now and growled, "Fine, but the only reason I'm letting you live is because somehow you've got Aziraphale's protection, in spite of what you did to him! If it were up to me, I'd tear you apart right now. But Aziraphale says no, so it's back to Plan B." The demon smirked and held up his phone. "Ever heard the term 'mutually assured destruction'?"

He clicked the button to play back the recording he'd taken, watching with satisfaction as Zaccheus's face grew crimson and then white, hearing his own voice incriminating himself. Crowley pointed the phone at him and snapped, "So you get the message, there's no way we go down without you going down, too. Now, if I even think you're going to blab anything to anyone, or if I even suspect you've been bothering Aziraphale, I'm going to get very angry." His eyes shifted to full snake, the whites disappearing into gold, skin morphing partway into scales. Crowley stretched slightly taller, looming over the other angel. "And when I'm angry, I tend to forget thingssss," he hissed. "Might even forget he doesssssn't want me to kill you. Underssssstand?"

Zaccheus swallowed, then bobbed his head. Crowley shifted back to normal size and gave him a feral smile.

"Good. Then I suggest you gather whatever 'evidence' you've got, if you've even got any, and send it to Aziraphale."

Again, Zaccheus bobbed his head, then with a glower in Aziraphale's direction, hurried from the bookshop. As soon as the door had shut, Crowley bit his lip, waiting for Aziraphale to tell him off, but when he turned to look, the angel only slumped down into the chair and buried his face in his hands.

"Crowley, I'm so sorry," he muttered into his palms.

Taken aback, Crowley stared. "Er... for what?"

Aziraphale pulled his hands away and looked up at him with sorrow. "I should have told you, but- he said if I even hinted... I think he was scared of you, truth be told, and the risk... it was just too much. If my office ever told yours, I- I don't think they would give you a flogging and send you on your way. I couldn't risk it, Crowley, I'm so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"

He really meant it, Crowley could tell. The demon regarded Aziraphale, then slowly moved to sink down in front of him. "Got nothing to be sorry for, angel. You were trying to protect me. I'm not angry with you. Wish you'd let me kill him, but I'm not angry. But..." Crowley released a long breath and shook his head. "The whole Arrangement was my idea. The thought of you being the whipping boy for that tosser for the rest of your life, because of me..." He swallowed. "Do you... do you want to keep doing this? Or- I'd understand if..."

Aziraphale smiled and patted Crowley's hand. "I don't regret the Arrangement," he said firmly. "Or our friendship. I don't know how Zaccheus found out, but we'll collect whatever he's got on us, and... well, we'll just be more careful. And thank you, my dear. For making him stop. Truth is, I was starting to feel ill whenever he came to call, not knowing what he would ask for—mostly just menial tasks after... after the first time... filing his paperwork for him and such. But knowing he might ask worse of me, and that I'd have to go along with it for both our sakes..." Aziraphale shuddered. "And I'm so sorry for having been distant, my dear, I just- I thought- if he'd gone back on his word and alerted anyone, if they were just waiting to catch you here..."

Crowley glowered, remembering the note of anxiety Aziraphale had kept trying to conceal. It all made sense now. "You don't have to explain, angel. I get it. How many times did you take his punishment?"

"Just the twice," Aziraphale assured him softly, looking away. "Gabriel didn't even question it. Fifteen the first time, but- but he's right, it was only ten tonight, since I couldn't heal the wounds from the week before."

"How merciful," Crowley spat, standing up with a glower. "That was, by the way, sarcasm, as I can tell some part of you actually believes that tripe. That's not mercy, but there's no sense arguing over it. Right, I assume the lashes are magicked and can't be healed away by me either, but I can at least clean them off and wrap 'em. Get that shirt off, I'll get some hot water going."

"Crowley."

He stopped and turned, waiting as Aziraphale glanced at the floor, then up at him with a small smile.

"Thank you."

Crowley quirked his mouth in an answering smile, then turned to fetch the water. His angel did require some taking care of, but after all Crowley didn't mind.

#whumptober2020 #no.17 #blackmail #good omens #fanfiction #Aziraphale whump #Heaven is full of jerks #Crowley has his back

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