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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

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#33, Crowley saying it to Aziraphale. Up to you what he gives him.

One hundred ways to say I love you prompt! (33: “Close your eyes and hold out your hands”) @yamikakyuu

(Note: In the book, after Aziraphale mentions his new children’s book collection, we have this line: “Gosh, I’m sorry. said Crowley, who knew how much the angel had treasured his book collection. I always took this to mean that the children’s books replaced the misprint Bibles and books of prophecy.)

“Crowley, you’re not listening to me,” Aziraphale said, more than a little annoyed.

The demon sprawled out on the sofa, tapping at his clever little phone. “I am. You’re missing some books.”

“Not just some books!” He gestured to the middle shelf on the back-corner book case. “Mother Shipton, gone.” To the top shelf. “Nostradamus, gone.” He gasped as something occurred to him, dashing to the cabinet where he kept his ancient scrolls. St John of Patmos, the Sybilline Books and Oracles, the Book of Daniel...

All gone.

“I think you’re being a little dramatic,” Crowley said, when Aziraphale’s cry of pain had ended.

“I am not being -- why? Why would Adam bring back the shop and not my books of prophecy?”

“Mmmh.”

“What? Do you have something to say?”

“Just...have you checked the misprint Bibles yet?”

He stared at the bookcase near the front of the shop for a full minute, unable to hold back a noise like a tea kettle’s whistle. Then he walked back to the armchair across from Crowley’s sofa and sat with a thud.

“At lease the Oscar Wilde books are still there,” Crowley said, still not looking up. “And the Shakespeare folios.”

“Do you know how long I spent collecting those? They were priceless! Unique! Most of them were autographed!”

Crowley tapped at the phone again. “Do you think Adam was trying to tell you something?”

“What? No. Absolutely not. He’s just a - a foolish child, pulling some sort of prank.”

“If you want to know what I think...”

“I most certainly do not.” Aziraphale crossed his arms angrily.

Crowley shrugged. “Let me know when you’re done sulking, we can try that restaurant down the corner.” Aziraphale didn’t miss the way his eyes glanced over the top of the screen, even behind those glasses. “Might be time to try something new.”

They didn’t bring up the books again that week, or the next, or the month after that. In fact, it was mid-October before Aziraphale sighed, leaned back in his seat, and asked “Well, alright. What do you think Adam meant?”

Crowley poured himself another glass of wine from the bottle the waiter had left.

It was another new restaurant. Whenever it was Crowley’s turn to choose, it was something new -- new place to eat, new paths to walk, new cities to visit. That was always his way, the latest and the flashiest things, but Aziraphale couldn’t help enjoying them. Some of the time.

“Ah, you tell me. Why did you collect them in the first place?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” But he really thought about it, perhaps for the first time ever. “I don’t know. I suppose there was something comforting in the books of prophecy. Proof that there was some greater Plan at work.”

“But most of them were wrong.”

“I...yes, I suppose so. Maybe that was comforting, too. That the Plan and the flaws could exist together. That something imperfect could still have meaning.”

Crowley reached across the table, rested his hand on Aziraphale’s. That was new, too, the touching. He enjoyed that, all of the time.

“The Bibles, too, I suppose.” Aziraphale felt a little choked up. “The mistakes don’t invalidate the rest of the book. They can have value, in spite of their flaws.”

“You know,” Crowley laced his fingers through Aziraphale’s, “they were valuable because of their flaws. Unique, you said.” Aziraphale nodded. “There’s millions of perfect Bibles out there but. Well.” Crowley cleared his throat and looked away, but his hand stayed where it was. “I can’t stand perfect anyway. I’ll take unique every time.”

They sat together for a moment, indulging in the silence, of the words they could both hear without being spoken.

“But then, why would Adam take them away? You don’t think he disagreed?”

“No,” Crowley leaned across the table. “I think he hoped you wouldn’t need the reminder anymore. And that you’d have other things to think about, instead of Plans and perfection and conformity and all that.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale gave his hand another squeeze, then pulled away to pick up his wine glass. “To new experiences, I suppose.”

Crowley half-smiled and raised his own glass. “To new experiences.”

“Got you something,” Crowley said, a few days before Christmas.

“Oh,” said Aziraphale, his heart doing something rather unexpected in his chest. “Oh, well. It is traditional to wait until at least the twenty-fourth.”

“Yeah, but holidays are stupid.” He still had one hand behind his back. “I just wanted to give you this because. You know.”

“Do I?”

“Come on. Close your eyes and hold out your hand.”

With a smile, Aziraphale complied.

His fingers instinctively curled around to grasp the book. Of course it was a book, he didn’t need to see it to know that. Thin, a few dozen pages, practically a pamphlet. Old, by the scent of it, the feel of the paper.

“Alright. You can look.”

Aziraphale looked, and gasped. Flames on one side of the cover, the curves of white clouds on the other, and from both sides figures reached out, embraced each other. Tall human figures walked through a Garden. And the title - The Marriage of Heaven and Hell.

“Oh, my dear...where did you...”

“The internet.” Crowley shrugged, hands in his pockets, trying not to look pleased with himself. “Seemed to be up your sort of thing. Unusual. Irreverent. Full of ideas that maybe wouldn’t meet your old bosses’ approval. You’ve heard of it, then?”

“Heard of it?” he asked, turning the pages carefully. Each was a beautiful hand-colored print from an etched plate. Without Contraries is no progression. Attraction and Repulsion, Reason and Energy, Love and Hate are necessary to Human existence. “But there are only twelve copies in the world!”

“I’m very good at Googling.” He flashed a grin. “And I thought, you know, it’s about time you started collecting things again. Something new to chase after.”

Aziraphale smiled, carefully put the two-hundred-year-old book down on his desk lest the oils of his hand start to destroy it. “It’s wonderful. And, you’re right, it’s about time I started going to auction houses again. As long as you don’t mind tagging along.” Crowley shrugged again. “And, ah, the title is...”

“Yeah, about that.” Crowley pulled his hand out of his pocket, holding something tightly. “Er...close your eyes again?”

(The Marriage of Heaven and Hell is a real book by William Blake and his wife Catherine, printed in 1790. I spent about an hour on this Google rabbit hole and whoo boy is this a fascinating work! But it also struck me as exactly the sort of thing Aziraphale would collect...)

Still poking away at these, so send me an ask or a comment if you want one! :)

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable marriage proposal #aziraphale and crowley #my writing #100 ways to say i love you #writing prompt

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