(no subject)

[nny]

This is for copinggoggles, but I'd really appreciate hearing how much of it people get. I won't put it up on lower_tadfield until I know that it's not entirely opaque.




Revolutions


"I'd rather it was you."

"Would you, indeed."

"Yup."

Aziraphale didn't turn. Somehow he sensed that would give Crawly entirely too much satisfaction.

"And what is it precisely you'd rather was me?"

"That did the right thing. You know."

"Ah. Well yes. Me too, obviously." A shadow blocked out the sun, and Aziraphale looked up. And gaped. "Heavens above, Crawly!"

Crawly sat next to him. Crawly could sit. Long dark hair curled into his eyes; yellow, the angel noted, with the abstraction of shock. He was a little clumsy, taking a few moments to get his long legs into a position that was comfortable, but he'd certainly mastered some things. Like that grin.

"I… well blow me down. It's you."

Crawly's grin widened. "Glad you think so."

The angel examined him thoughtfully. "Yes. It suits you, Crawly."

"Name doesn't, though. I was thinking, maybe, Crowley?" He looked at Aziraphale, slightly nervous, and the angel nodded decisively.

"Yes. I believe I could get used to Crowley."

And Heavens, but his smile was glorious.

*

Angels knew love.

If there was one thing angels knew, they knew love. And they knew that sometimes, love just couldn't be enough. Sometimes, humans couldn't let themselves trust.

He stood and looked at the sad thing hanging from the tree, listened to the wind and the creak of the rope.

"I didn't expect you to be here."

He didn't turn. "Someone had to be."

Crowley came and stood next to him. Aziraphale fumbled for the purse that hung at his belt and tossed it in front of the demon's feet.

Sometimes, humans couldn't let themselves trust. And they were brought to this, bought to this.

"At this moment, Crowley, I'd rather it was you. All he did wrong was believe you." The demon's jaw was tight, and he wouldn't look at him. "Don't talk to me for a while."

Crowley made no move to pick up the thirty silver pieces, as he walked away.

*

"All this."

Aziraphale picked his way across to the rock on which Crowley sat carefully, not wanting to turn his ankle in the half-dark.

"Someday, all this." Crowley was slurring his words.

"I'm sorry?" Aziraphale tutted and prised the bottle from a loose grasp. "Are we celebrating something?"

The demon shook his head decisively. "Someday, all this? 'll belong to you." He waved his hand vaguely at what they could see.

The angel looked at him quizzically. "I really don't think so, my dear. We're long past the time for such heroics."

"No no no." Crowley grabbed a handful of his sleeve and leaned close, blinking into his face. "'s what I said to him. Someday, I said, someday all this'll belong to you. My son. Alexander."

Aziraphale frowned, initially in confusion and then another emotion entirely. "…oh."

"Oh. Yep." If you tried hard enough, you might be able to mistake the tone of Crowley's voice for amusement.

"'Never in all the world was there another like him.' Am I to presume you were Arrian's 'power more than human'?"

"I'd rather it was you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Rather it was you that'd been careless enough, stupid enough… curious enough. Wish it… wish I hadn't. 'M not s'posed to feel like this." Crowley's hand was still tight on his sleeve, and it was shaking. Aziraphale placed his hand over it, and sat with him until morning.


*


Crowley threw his hands up.

"Why?"

Aziraphale shrugged, watching the demon pace, nervous but placid.

"But you could… I mean… anyone. Why me?"

Crowley's pacing finally brought him close enough, and Aziraphale reached out and caught him by the arm. The demon looked at him, wide eyed, his body trembling with something barely suppressed. The angel pulled him closer, and Crowley resisted only for a moment.

"But… I thought you and Wilde…"

He shook his head, cheeks a little pink. Crowley's cheek was hot, against the skin of his palm.

"Why me?" But he wasn't looking for an answer, clearly, since he leaned in and touched his mouth to Aziraphale's. And nothing had ever felt like it. The angel pulled away, after a moment, and smiled at him.

"I'd rather it was you."


*

At the end.

Blue eyes met yellow, a flaming sword's length apart.

"I'd rather..." The demon didn't need to finish.

Aziraphale closed his eyes, and nodded.

Comments

[louiselux.livejournal.com]

I think this works well. The time line, from beginning to end, is clear. I particularly liked the bit about Alexander - it was very moving. And the bit after that was very well done, I thought - I got a real sense of them being rather tentative and somewhat out of their depth with those human emotions.

I took me a couple of reads of the end to click what was happening, but in this case, because there are some nice layers of meaning in there, I don't think that's a bad thing.

[louiselux.livejournal.com]

I forgot to mention - I assumed he was talking about Alexander the Great from the mention of Arrian.