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The salty sea breeze off the Aegean Sea ruffled Crowley’s hair. It swept low and sweet along the ground, rustling through the grass, the only sound to be heard. Crowley sighed, letting his eyes flutter shut where he reclined in the field. It was springtime in Corinth, and the weather was perfect for sunbathing. He flexed his toes in his sandals, stretching his arms out and raking his fingers through the soft grass.
Sometimes indulging in a bit of sloth was a beautiful thing. And he was a demon, after all. Could hardly blame him for it, sin being in his nature and all that.
He was just about to succumb to a blissful afternoon nap when a twinkling voice roused him from his reverie.
“Always a snake, aren’t you, dear boy?”
Crowley blinked against the midday sun, which was currently being blocked out by a large straw hat. Underneath the hat was Aziraphale, smiling down at him and holding a rolled up blanket and a picnic basket.
“‘Ziraphale, what are you doing here?” Crowley slurred sleepily, propping himself up on his elbows. “Corinth is strictly under demonic influence right now, surely you saw the paperwork.”
“Yes, quite,” Aziraphale started, not meeting Crowley’s gaze. “I’ve been taking a bit of a sojourn, you see. The humans have been up to all kinds of fascinating things, it’d be a shame not to see as much of it as I can.”
Crowley hummed in agreement. Aziraphale had been quite distraught at the loss of Babylon. He’d never made it to see the gardens (though Crowley had insisted several times), and the fleeting nature of human creation had hit him rather hard. It wasn’t surprising that he would try to take all of it in before the world moved on.
“What’s with the basket?” Crowley asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh! Oh this, well, it’s just a spot of lunch I packed up.” Aziraphale shifted from foot to foot. “If you would be amenable, I wouldn’t mind sharing. The company would be quite enjoyable.”
“Do you have wine?”
“Do the Trojans have a horse?” Aziraphale smiled and laughed, taking his place next to Crowley on the grass and spreading out the blanket. The breeze came through again, dancing through his blond curls as he removed his traveling hat.
The basket was quickly emptied and spread out around them, a simple lunch of crusty bread along with pomegranates, grapes, and figs besides. A clay jar of sweet red wine was poured into cups between them, the perfect way to chase the afternoon. Crowley wasn’t about to point out to Aziraphale that pomegranates weren’t especially prone to growing in the springtime, but far be it for him to come between an angel and his cravings.
Crowley regaled Aziraphale with tales of his current mischief. He’d weaseled his way into the chariot racing circuit and had been corrupting it from the inside. Both by way of sabotage and also in betting circles. He’d made a pretty handsome sum from his ill gotten gains at this point, and had decided to take the day off.
Aziraphale had just come from Athens. The symposium to be exact. Crowley rolled his eyes, downing his cup and refilling it again. Philosophy was the angel’s current vice, and he knew he would be in for a long explanation.
“This fellow, Plato. He’s really quite brilliant.”
“Plato… sounds familiar, why does it sound familiar?”
“He used to follow Socrates around, now he’s got his own ideas.”
“Socrates? The smush faced guy who thought baths were a waste of time?”
“The very same.”
Crowley grimaced. “What’s Plato’s status vis a vis baths?”
“Unsure really, I didn’t ask him.”
“Ah, must be fine then,” Crowley said, tossing a grape into the air and catching it in his mouth. “You’d know, you’d’ve been able to smell him.”
“Don’t be crass,” Aziraphale said, continuing on. “He was talking about caves, and shadows. And how if you live your whole life in a cave, you’ll only believe the shadows are real.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. How could you live your whole life in a cave and only see shadows?”
“Well you see, in the metaphor, they’re bound and chained and can only look at one place on a wall.”
“Bit barbaric innit? This Plato sounds like one of ours.”
“Certainly not, he’s definitely one of ours. He’s all for free thinking and logic.”
“Yep, still sounds like one of ours. Anyway, how are you going to chain them up for their whole life? Wouldn’t someone have to feed them? Did they start when they were babies? Did they have to replace the chains every time they had a growth spurt?”
“That’s not the point , Crowley – it’s a thought exercise, you have to suspend your disbelief.”
“Suspend your disbelief,” Crowley said mockingly under his breath while Aziraphale continued on about poor tortured buggers being blinded by fire and begging to be chained back up to see their shadow puppets. He decided to let himself just exist in the flow of Aziraphale’s voice and words, to relax into the soft blanket and let the breeze carry him.
That was usually easier, anyway. Aziraphale didn’t like to stop once he was on a tear.
If Crowley were honest with himself, which he would never admit to being, he’d missed Aziraphale. It had been a solid thirty years since they’d seen each other last. And some potential mistakes had been made during that encounter.
Possibly, anyway. Crowley wasn’t sure, they hadn’t talked about it and Aziraphale hadn’t brought it up yet.
They had been a little too jubilant at a festival, high on the good time they were having. The noise and the revelry made him feel emboldened. Crowley had kissed him then, and the circle of rowdy festival goers near them had cheered.
But it had been a reckless decision. Aziraphale hadn’t kissed back, but he hadn’t stormed off or told him off either. Crowley had been in a sort of limbo of not knowing for thirty years whether his friend was ever coming back or if he’d mucked it up.
Really though, what was a kiss between friends? What was a little affection, at the end of the day? Plenty of people kissed their friends in the current society, but Aziraphale always took a while to catch up. It was possible that Crowley had jumped the gun.
But it didn’t matter, clearly, as Aziraphale was here, talking his ear off about the great Plato.
“ – And then Zeus sliced everyone in half, and now the humans wander the world looking for their soulmates. Isn’t that so romantic and interesting?”
“Wait, he what?”
“Crowley, were you even listening? Plato says that humans used to have four arms and four legs, but Zeus grew wary of their power. So he sliced everyone in half, and that’s why humans fall in love, because they’re looking for their other half , their soulmate that was lost when Zeus cut them apart.”
“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, angel.” Crowley said, laughing. “We were there , in the Garden. We know how the humans were made – they were never multi-limbed monstrosities, that’s the business of the Seraphs.”
“Yes, quite, but ,” Aziraphale said, looking more excited than Crowley had seen him in a while, “That’s the beauty of it! The humans love so wholly and with so much fervor that they’ve created reasons beyond their control for why they love so big! They’ve made it part of their culture, part of their society, to have a person with whom you are so entwined it’s impossible to extricate yourself from them! It’s glorious, the human propensity for story and thought. I do hope they start preserving these stories, I hope that catches on…”
Aziraphale trailed off, distracted by some particularly good figs. Crowley felt a pang of something he couldn’t place in his chest. It would be nice, though. To have that. There was a small part of him, deep down, that thought he and Aziraphale could be that. Always in orbit, always coming back to each other. Almost like destiny.
But destiny wasn’t something in the cards for them, not really.
“Yea… yea, sounds nice,” Crowley said quietly, munching on some bread but not really tasting or enjoying it.
Aziraphale sighed, turning on his side to face Crowley and resting his cheek on his arm.
“I missed you, you know,” the angel said quietly. “It’s been a while.”
“Yea, same.” Crowley laid back down with a huff, turning to face Aziraphale. “Missed you, I mean.”
Aziraphale chuckled, “I knew what you meant.”
The moment stretched between them, long and languid in a way that wasn’t quite awkward, but was trying very hard to be.
“I’m glad you’re here, Crowley,” Aziraphale swallowed heavily before continuing. “There’s a part of me, when I heard Plato speaking, that felt something familiar in it. I’m glad you were the one in Eden, and I’m glad that you are here on Earth with me. As though maybe it were… well, at any rate. I’m glad that I get to spend this time with you. That we get to be friends, for a time at least.”
“You’re a sentimental sap, angel,” Crowley said with a laugh, even as those pangs of longing in his heart renewed. “See one pretty philosopher with pretty words and all of a sudden you’re a bleeding heart.”
“Oh, he’s not pretty at all,” Aziraphale said quickly, “He got more than just teachings from Socrates.”
“Scandalous, angel! Speaking ill of someone, that’s my department.”
“Maybe,” Aziraphale said with a shrug, “But maybe he should’ve deigned to take a bath once in a while.”
They both laughed, scooting ever so slightly closer. Their eyes met, and the smile on Aziraphale’s face softened. He reached out tentatively, hand cupping Crowley’s cheek.
“I didn’t do this right, thirty years ago. You caught me a bit off guard.”
“Y…yea?” Crowley asked, hoping his trembling wasn’t obvious.
“Is it ok if I try again?”
Crowley nodded a bit too quickly to maintain his coolness, and Aziraphale leaned in, covering Crowley’s lips with his own. It was soft and chaste, pleasant and gentle. Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand, kissing back in a way he hoped was just as soft and gentle.
“That was nice,” Aziraphale said when they parted, “I can see why you wanted to do it.”
“Yea… just… just a fun little thing,” Crowley stammered, trying to commit the feel of Aziraphale’s lips to his memory before the fleeting sensation left him. “More wine?”
“Oh most definitely,” Aziraphale smiled wide, lighting up Crowley’s world just as easily as the sun might. “I’ve yet to tell you about young Aristotle!”
Crowley groaned as he poured the wine, but stayed at rapt attention nonetheless. The afternoon sank into early evening as they lay on the blanket, hand in hand, closer than they had ever been.