Chapter Text
“Ye on the graft?”
Aziraphale blinked blearily, turning his tired gaze from the photograph resting upon the page of his open book to a pair of wide, brown, curious eyes. They were peering up at him from over the edge of his seat.
“I beg your pardon, sir?” he asked his visitor, amused.
“That- ahm- tha- thon Omega there, that yer mate?”
He looked back down at the photograph, smiling fondly. It was the picture Crowley had sat for and presented to him on his birthday.
“Almost,” he said, and perhaps it was a bold proclamation, but there was no one around to catch him out. In light of such a fact, he enjoyed the burst of serendipity from the concept that went fluttering out from his stomach and leaving his toes and fingertips buzzing.
“Can ah- ahm- can ah ‘ave a wee keek?”
Typically he might worry that the curious little pup might put jam-covered hands upon his book (or worse, his photograph), but his happy mood was a powerful thing. He lifted the picture, extending it so the pup could see better.
He was a very small child, likely not any more than four or five years of age, and he leaned over the edge of the seat, sounding an enchanted trill as he admired Crowley. Aziraphale could relate to the impulse.
“Jings, she’s bonnie!”
“Yes, he is, isn’t he?” Aziraphale corrected, though he wasn’t sure Crowley would have bothered.
“Are ye- ye- ye’on yer way to see ‘im?”
“I am,” the Alpha said, another burst of delirious happiness pounding through his veins at the fact.
“Is he nice?”
Aziraphale thought on that, a grin pulling at his lips.
“To pups, always.”
“And ta grown folk?”
“Hmm, sometimes.”
“Whit’s ‘e like?”
The viscount raised his brows, intrigued by the curious pup who seemed to have escaped his mother or ama’s vision and conscious thought. He wasn’t particularly accustomed to having strangers as travel companions, but he couldn’t say he disliked it.
“Well, he’s clever and very humorous and excellent at finding the best adventures wherever he goes.”
“Ach, thas loads better’n nice! Tha’s pure class!”
“Do you think?” Aziraphale humored him, raising his brows.
“Nae, anno!” he rebutted with the confidence of a grown Alpha.
It appeared Aziraphale had gained a companion, whether or not he approved, as the pup invited himself to join him.
Aziraphale had never traveled in a public car, and he was not quite certain of the proper course of action for such a situation. The couple seated across from him, however, looked very endeared, and so he could only conclude it was acceptable to permit the invasion. He made room, shifting closer to the window, and after no short amount of struggle and a comical show, the lad managed his way onto the seat. He bossily scooted towards Aziraphale to peer at the photo again.
“Fir wye ‘almost’?” he demanded to know.
“I haven’t properly asked him yet.”
“Tha’s a right sin. How no’?”
Aziraphale blinked at the boy, deducing his meaning by the look of determined curiosity in his inquisitive brown eyes.
“Well,” he said, and perhaps it was not wholly true, but he could not imagine attempting to explain the details of the situation to an insatiably curious pup, “we’ve only just passed the Third.”
“Awh, pure magic! Do ye ken ha- haw- how yer gonnae… ahhh- ahhhm- ask?” he asked, excitedly kicking his legs as he continued to examine the photograph.
“Hmm, I did think-“
“Awright- so- eh- em- ye take ‘im on a wee dander, aye? ‘N ye -ehm- maybe have a puckle o’ flowers? Aye, bonnie flowers, n’ ye tell ‘im that ‘es uh- uhm, real class, ye ken! ‘N gaun say something aboot how ‘e’s got braw een, an- an- ehm- e’s canny, aye? Tell ‘im he’s pure dead brilliant, aye, ‘s barry! N’ then… ehhh…. Then!- uhmmm, then- then give ‘im a wee kip n’ then yer belter!”
Aziraphale understood scarce little of the rambling, but it didn’t take him long to understand he was receiving instructions on how to propose. He nodded along performatively, as if taking very astute mental notes.
“Thank you very much, sir- and I ask him after that?”
He couldn’t help but smile as the little pup smacked his own forehead in recollection.
“Ach! Aye, but- but before the kip, ye ken?”
Perhaps it was merely an attempt to pass the time, or perhaps Aziraphale was happy for the company. Whatever the case, the little pup seemed very eager to give advice, and so, to the shared amusement of the couple across from him, Aziraphale asked his new companion how he should ask Crowley’s apa for permission. Then, when the pup had finished that rambling lecture, inquired as to how he had become so very wise. To this, the pup went on an invigorated recollection of some tale involving a forest, fair folk, sheep, and rainbows.
Somewhere in the middle, Aziraphale could only assume the lad had forgotten the initial question.
He was interrupted, anyhow, as an exhausted Beta woman came rushing towards him.
“Rory, gonnae no dae that!”
Rory pouted, “Fir wye? Ah was deid bored, Mam!”
“Ach, I am sorry, sir, ‘e’s a blether wee barra!”
Aziraphale fixed her with a kind smile, shaking his head, “It’s no trouble at all. He’s imparted many very helpful words of wisdom.”
Rory beamed up at his mother, looking very proud indeed, and she looked back with a fond but put-upon smile, scooping him up off the seat and onto her hip.
“Thank ye, sir, yer very kind.”
Aziraphale looked back down at his book- not that he’d ever been reading it, and found the journey to be even more frustrating without anyone to talk to. He brushed his thumb over the photograph, along the edge of Crowley’s face, and carefully closed the book.
He propped his forehead against the window, looking out at the pitch black sky. It was a stormy night, and there weren’t many stars shining on that particular evening in the Highlands.
The Alpha spared a moment to be thankful that Felix had all but forced him to get one good night of sleep before leaving London. It would be a long journey, he reminded, and he wouldn’t get much rest if his goal was to arrive in Dornoch as quickly as possible.
He was usually right, in truth, Aziraphale had needed a good night’s rest, no matter how restless he was. He’d also needed the breakfast Felix had prepared the next morning, and might have forgotten half the necessities of his meager luggage had Felix not packed for him.
From London, he’d grabbed whatever tickets possible and whatever trains left the soonest. The route he took was not the most direct, but it was the one with the least amount of wait. The sleeping cars for the overnight train on the last major stretch of his trip had been sold out, but he found something surprisingly comforting about not spending his journey alone.
He’d gotten little to no sleep since his initial departure. It had been difficult to, in truth. Any time he came close to dozing off, he would think about Crowley, waiting for him, and he would be wide awake again.
It seemed exhaustion was a sneaky thing, however, and it got the best of him eventually. He awoke abruptly as the train rolled to a stop, and he squinted out the window, the orange and golden hues of the sunrise peering back at him. It was beautiful, and made him wonder how it might feel to awaken to golden eyes, wild red locks, and warm brown skin, dotted with freckles in a lovely way that struck him as so similar to the hundreds of clouds speckled across the skyline, now.
After buying tickets to Durness, he took his place on a bench, fished a notebook out of his pocket, waved goodbye to Rory and his ama as they passed by, and wrote down his thoughts on the dawn that greeted him. He couldn’t help but hope that perhaps when his mind was a bit less burdened, he might write Crowley a poem about it.
Thankfully, his next train ride was nothing compared to the one he’d endured through the highlands. Less thankfully, he found no reprieve in the warm embrace of sleep.
He did arrive, nonetheless, and found a pub leasing rooms, that he might wash up and put on a clean set of clothes. He did wish to be somewhat presentable, though he was sure he looked a complete nightmare. It didn’t help matters that, in his anticipation, his hands were shaking too fiercely to allow him to shave. Several days without had led to a fiercely obvious scruff, but Aziraphale imagined it shouldn’t look so terrible as a dozen little cuts all over his face.
Coward that he was, he did not look in the mirror before hiring a carriage and departing for Naed Nathair Castle.
His mind was a jumble, and his gut twisted fiercely in anxiety. He was not the least bit worried about Crowley’s answer. Lord Sutherland’s answer, however, was another matter entirely.
An effort was made to organize the points he wished to present in his request and to decide what words he should say. It was all rather moot when his lack of sleep had them tumbling all into a dark black pit that he couldn’t hope to retrieve them from. He couldn’t help but wonder if he should have waited, only he knew that such an attempt should only result in him being much more disorganized. No. Better to do it now, before he lost the ability of competent speech altogether.
“Get it together, old chap,” he grumbled to himself, raising his hand to rub at his temples.
His heart skipped a beat as he gazed out the window, finding the great towers of Naed Nathair, mixed in their age and architecture, emerging from the tree line.
It occurred to him, briefly, that he might have talked to his Apa before discussing an Omega Price. The Americans found it an antiquated practice, of course, one they were determined to misunderstand as transactional, and so his Ama’s pack had never been extended one (nor did they wish for it). Aziraphale found it good reason, were he lucky enough to get to the point in discussion, not to hold back.
Crowley deserved it, after all. He deserved the whole world if it would make him flash that toothy grin that he wore at his happiest.
Aziraphale’s heart lurched along with the carriage as they drew to a halt. He gulped, his heartbeat pounding in his ears as within a few short minutes, a footman opened the carriage door.
“I am sorry for the wait, m’lord! We were nae told ye were comin’!”
“Oh, it’s no matter, dear boy,” Aziraphale reassured, though he was beside himself with his own frayed nerves upon realizing (for the first time, really) how impossibly rude he was showing up out of nowhere.
Worst of all, it was too late to turn back- he’d been seen now, and the only thing more rude and absurd than coming in would be leaving just as abruptly as he arrived.
“Do ye have any luggage, m’lord?” the footman inquired.
“Oh- no, not at all. I’m staying in the village.”
“As ye please, m’lord. Right this way.”
Aziraphale paid and dismissed the carriageman after a rude inquiry as to if he was meant to ‘just wait about all day’, and he followed after the footman, up the stairs and into the entrance hall.
He sighed as he stepped in and removed his hat, having forgotten how stunning the old castle truly was. How miraculous, he thought, looking any which way and seeing every decade of history for centuries past, every year of it presented with only the finest craftsmanship.
Chatter drifted from down one of the tall, narrow corridors, and Aziraphale nearly jumped as he heard Lady Sutherland herself gasp and call out cheerfully, “Lord Fell! My goodness, what a surprise! Does Anthony know you’re here?!”
Aziraphale blinked, wondering if he’d forgotten something in his impossible fatigue. He bowed sheepishly in greeting, raising his gaze to find Parker, the butler, glowering at him from behind the red-headed Lady Omega.
“No, Lady Sutherland- “
“Now, dear, haven’t we been over this? Lilith.”
“Ah- yes, of course, Lady Lilith- I had thought Anthony was in Cheshire,” he said, suddenly nervous that Crowley might see him and misunderstand before he’d the chance to talk with his apa. He continued in a rush, as if it would do anything to negate the possibility, “In truth I am here in hopes of meeting with Lord Sutherland, though I’ve only just realized what beastly behavior it is to come barging in unannounced, and I implore you to send me away if my presence is even the slightest nuisance.”
“Of course it isn’t, dear,” Lady Lilith dissuaded, “Anthony only got in last night, himself.”
Her brown eyes were thoughtful as she measured him up, as if attempting to put the pieces together.
It seemed she succeeded, and Aziraphale nearly leapt out of his skin as she sounded an excited shout. She bounced on her toes, clapped her hands in frantic elation, and rushed out, “Are you- oh bless it! Mon dieu! You are aren’t you? Oh don’t answer that, just take off your hat and coat and I’ll just go and- you just wait here. Don’t go anywhere!”
She all but ran down the hallway, shouting over her shoulder in what seemed to be an entire sentence compressed into a single word, “Parker please take Lord Fell’s hat and coat!”
“Yes, my lady,” Parker obliged, stepping forward to do so.
Aziraphale blinked after her, not entirely sure what was happening. He was guided to a small sitting room off the main entrance, though he couldn’t find the peace of mind to sit, no matter how dearly he tried.
A moment later, the door opened, and Parker gave him a put-upon gaze.
“His Lordship will see you now,” he sighed, clearly not sharing Lady Lilith’s excitement over Aziraphale’s presence.
The Alpha gulped, wishing he’d been permitted to keep his hat as he trailed after the butler, led through all manner of tight corridors and direction of stairs.
He did hope he was well received; if Lord Sutherland was displeased with his presence, Aziraphale was hopeless to find an escape route.
After what felt like ages, they neared a set of heavy, ornate double doors. Lilith Crowley slid out them, flashing a toothy grin that Aziraphale had seen many times (albeit, never on her face) and winking as she passed by him.
That seemed a good sign, in any case.
Parker, unphased, knocked briefly on the door before entering and holding it open for Aziraphale.
“Lord Fell, my lord.”
It appeared Lady Sutherland had rather given him away, as when Aziraphale entered, Lucius was out from behind his desk and pouring himself a glass of something. He grunted in acknowledgement.
“Is there anything else you require, my lord?” Parker asked.
He grunted again, and Aziraphale wondered how the butler could possibly distinguish between the sounds as he stepped out and abruptly shut him inside with the most dangerous Alpha north of the border (and, quite possibly, south of it, too).
“Lord Fell,” Lord Sutherland acknowledged, finding words at last.
“Lord Sutherland, thank you for seeing me on such short notice- I had been informing- saying… - that is, I realize how rude it was not to write ahead. I’ve no idea what I was thinking, and I can only hope- “
He fell to silence as the darker Alpha made some vague gesture with one hand, dropping ice in a second glass with the other. All the while, he didn’t bother with looking at his guest.
“Bourbon?” he offered instead, “Seems you could use it.”
“Oh- that’s- yes, yes thank you,” Aziraphale sighed, heat lingering on his face from the frazzled display.
“I do hope you’ll forgive me. I’m afraid I’m rather sleep-deprived, at the moment,” he said, gratefully accepting the glass.
“I’d imagine you would be, trekking from London to here in four days,” Lord Sutherland mused, “It’s quite the hike.”
Aziraphale nearly choked on his drink.
Of course, he realized, Raphael had identified the Alphas outside his house correctly as Lucius Crowley’s employees, and of course they might have reported having seen him. He locked eyes with the Alpha, helpless but to feel a surge of panic.
Lord Sutherland, however, appeared as unbothered as he ever did. His dark golden eyes gave nothing away as they stared back, his gaze unwavering.
“That’s- yes, but I- I implore you to understand that I was only there to-“
“Stop,” Lucius said, and Aziraphale did. “Take a deep breath. There we are. Now take a proper drink.”
Aziraphale, flustered and confused, obliged, taking a sip of his bourbon. Before he could pull his glass away, he found Lord Sutherland reaching forward and pushing the bottom edge of the glass back upwards.
“Ach, nae. ‘Proper’, I said, none of that sassenach shite.”
The southern lord nearly coughed when he took the empty glass away, and Lucius grunted in what Aziraphale dared to interpret as approval. He took the glass from Aziraphale, returning to the bar.
For a brief moment, the Viscount considered the possibility that he had been drugged or poisoned or something equally terrible, but he managed to calm his frazzled mind upon watching the Earl top off both their glasses with the same liquor and take a sip of his own as he returned the freshly filled glass to Aziraphale.
“Thank you,” Aziraphale mumbled sheepishly.
“Right,” Lucius said, his low, smoky voice perfectly calm and his expression just as measured as the moment earlier, “Now. You hurried all this way for a reason. Tell me what it is.”
Aziraphale’s eyes began to dart about as he struggled for thought, and Lord Sutherland wasted no time in stopping him before he began to speak.
“Without the preamble.”
He was a man of few words, and Aziraphale finally realized that it was a fact that worked rather in his favor. Surely, with he and Crowley having come so close to the third, Lord Sutherland had long since considered the possibility and made his decision. All the facts were on the table. They needed only to be discussed.
“I… well, I’ve come to ask for Anthony’s hand in marriage.”
A single black brow raised at the declaration. Lucius turned, walking towards his desk and leaning on the edge of it, the ankles of his long legs crossing as he unhurriedly sipped his drink.
“I take it, given the circumstances, that you are aware of his reasons for breaking off his courtship.”
“I am, and I’ve handled them. There is no longer any threat to Anthony or your pack. Anthony and I are free to move forward,” he said, another surge of anxiety filling him as he considered that, perhaps, he had sounded very presumptuous, “- if you were to permit it, of course, and in that case, if he were to accept me.”
Lucius swirled his glass, measuring Aziraphale up. It was astounding, the younger Alpha thought, that he might appear so aloof when he must be thinking quite a lot.
“I am curious what you mean by ‘handled’,” he said, ever so slightly tilting his head.
Aziraphale wondered if he’d always had that soft Scottish accent. It was quite possible he’d simply never noticed it- there was always something else to be worried about when Lucius Crowley bothered to speak.
“Well- the maid has confessed that it was all a black-hearted lie. He has been stripped of his power, dismissed without notice, and extracted from the home. Raphael Fernsby has been freed from the spell he was under, and he has expressed a deep shame for the part he has played in resurfacing the pain and manipulation Anthony suffered. All records, documents, and notes of the claims were burnt to ashes in front of me.”
If he was not mistaken, Lord Sutherland looked nearly impressed.
“You did all this… peacefully?”
Aziraphale set his glass down in an attempt to hide his trembling. He did his damndest not to cower, though he could not quite meet Lucius’s eyeline.
“I find, Lord Sutherland, that many situations can be solved without the use of violence. It is- well, diplomacy is my preferred approach, anyhow.”
The Scottish lord hummed, looking out the window in thought. His finger ran alongside the rim of his glass, and for a moment, he was silent.
“It may surprise you to know I feel similarly,” he said.
Upon spotting the surprise on Aziraphale’s face, he sounded a low chuckle, and the southern lord might have been bowled over by the shock of it.
“You’ve heard stories of my men burning down factories filled with workers and tearing pups from their ama or their mother’s arms, I’m sure,” he said, “I am afraid they are simply that. Stories. It can’t always be avoided; some souls are very angry at the suggestion that they might consider reason over violence, but at the core of it, I am a businessman. At worst, a bogeyman. It doesn’t matter how modern the age becomes or how often a person frequents church. The greatest influence in the world will always be a fear of the thing that goes bump in the night.”
Aziraphale swallowed, helpless but to think about the terrible mutilation to Jinn’s face.
He was unnerved as it seemed Lucius could practically spot the thought as easily as if he was reading Aziraphale’s mind.
“Ah- yes, well. There are personal exceptions, of course,” he noted. “That’s the thing about starting your own pack. You think you know who you are, but having people that you are bound by blood and instinct to protect? Well. It awakens parts of you that you never imagined in your darkest nightmares.”
His gaze drifted towards the window, and Aziraphale was relieved, feeling that he was safe to breathe again.
“Anthony was born two months early, you know; that’s why we call him ‘Little Pup’. He was such a frail wee thing. All that spirit, and life kept beating him down. I cannae do much about life. But people? Aye, I can do something about that,” he mused aloud, “If some heinous quack straps my pup down in a tub and scalds his flesh until he’s screaming, then I’ll chain him down in turn and boil him alive, one tenth of a degree at a time, until days have passed and he’s nothing but bones. And if some scabby little bitch of a maid thinks it’s wise to trap my boy in a living hell in his own home, to isolate him from his own pack for two focking years and strip away any sense of safety he knows? If he’s mad enough to remind him of it after so long, to make himself known to me after escaping his damnation?”
The southern lord was mistaken, as at present, he was rather the furthest thing from safe to breathe.
“Well. I’ll stick him in a boggin’, shite-strewn old barn and take him apart, one bit at a time, ensuring he suffers, alone and hopeless to attain help, for just as long. He’ll be nothing but a sack of flesh with nubs and holes after the years have gone and I’m done with him at last, and I’ll throw him to the village in the dead of night- It’s good, you know, for the people to face down that thing that goes bump in the night. Just every now and then, enough for them to remember they’re not so helpless as they fear. Enough for them to feel a sense of strength and security when they band together and grind it into the dirt.”
He blinked from his spell, turning back to Aziraphale and taking another sip of his bourbon.
“You’re a man of literature, aye?”
Aziraphale nodded shortly, sure he appeared every bit as much on the verge of fainting as he felt.
“Good. Then you know that there’s truth in tales. I would remember this one, with your intentions being what they are with Little Pup.”
To this, Aziraphale was unsure how to respond. He had a lurking feeling that he was even less likely to sleep peacefully now than he had the days before.
“But, enough of this dreich business. I am slow to trust a single soul outside my pack, but I cannae overlook the fact that you have protected my pup and my pack in a situation in which I could not. It is a rarer thing than sitting for tea with the bloody Loch Ness Monster, yet I owe you a debt of gratitude. You have my permission to ask Anthony for his hand- so long as you’re still interested, and but.”
“Of course I am!” Aziraphale blurted, some logical portion of his mind that had long since been conquered screaming over his utter lack of self-preservation.
“Grand. Let’s celebrate, hm? Cigar?”
“That’s- yes, thank you, Lord Sutherland,” he stammered.
“Given the conversation at hand, I believe you may call me Lucius, hm?”
“Er- yes, of course, th-thank you, Lo- Lucius,” Aziraphale managed out.
As he was handed a cigar and they lit them together, he was unsure if it would be foolish to think he had found an ally.
He supposed that Lucius’s initial description to be quite apt. He was the great unknown- a cryptic being that was impossible to predict or to read- and for that, he was terrifying.
He was invited to sit, and he did. Perhaps it was the most bone-chilling approval he might have imagined, but it was an approval, after all. Lucius had expressed his gratitude and stated that he was in Aziraphale’s debt. Aziraphale had no reason not to take him at his word.
“Do you have thoughts for the date?” Lucius questioned.
“Anthony had expressed an interest in late September,” he confided, “although I imagine it will be later, with the- er, disruption in our engagement.
“Hm. I imagine so,” Lucius mused, “I’m sure we needn’t worry about it. Lilith and Anthony will have plenty of their own thoughts and trust me that you do nae want to be on the other side of that unstoppable force.”
Aziraphale laughed, nearly surprised as he did.
If his eyes weren’t tricking him, he saw a slight smile on the older Alpha’s lips, and he found himself hardly able to smother his own smile as he took a sip of bourbon.
“I… I suppose we’d ought to discuss the Omega price?” he proposed after sharing a surprisingly long moment of comfortable silence.
Lucius puffed on his cigar, discarding the amounted ash in the tray resting on the table between them.
“If we must. I wouldn’t mind waiving it entirely.”
Aziraphale’s mind went blank at the suggestion.
“But- but surely I must show you how grateful I am for Anthony? How deeply I cherish the promise of a lifetime partnership?”
Lucius stared into the fire, taking another sip of his drink.
“Lad, you’re the only Alpha to have shown me such things. I’ve a hunch I’d be all the more difficult to convince after witnessing it.
Aziraphale was surprised by the sentiment, and after that, he was terribly flattered by it. He couldn’t imagine anything more crucial than the Crowley pack’s peace of mind that Anthony was loved and respected.
“I am rather determined to make an offering.”
Lucius seemed amused at that.
“I imagine you shouldn’t simply agree to set a number for the papers alone?”
“I’m afraid not,” he said.
Lord Sutherland took another thoughtful puff of his cigar.
“I am curious why you’re so intent.”
Aziraphale was saddened as he thought of the true reason.
“Those simple-minded, ignorant prigs at court are so cruel to Anthony. I think it should serve them right to eat crow; to see him fetch a higher price than most of them could ever hope to give or receive and to know I gave it quite willingly.”
“It’s a right silly reason. They don’t really matter, you know,” Lucius mused.
“Not to some, perhaps, but it matters quite a bit to Anthony, even if he stays above it all,” Aziraphale said, and when he looked up from the spot he’d been staring into for several seconds, he was surprised to find a true, undeniable, blatant smirk on Lucius’s face.
“Hell’s bells, lad. I’ve already said yes, ye nae need to keep convincing me.”
Aziraphale laughed, his heart swelling. He’d done this twice before, but it had always been so forced, so manufactured. He knew he’d never loved anyone the way he loved Anthony, but he was unsure that his affection for anyone had ever spoken for itself the way it did now.
Despite all the hardship and all the obstacles, his fate with Crowley felt more right now than it ever had.
“Right,” Lucius said, setting his drink aside and turning to regard Aziraphale, “If we are to do this properly, I should give you the same acceptable minimum as any of the other suitors. They did always go running, as intended- Anthony despised them- but then again you did say you are determined.”
“I am,” Aziraphale said, squaring his shoulders and turning towards Lord Sutherland.
“Then my price is four thousand pounds and not a ha’pence less,” he said.
Aziraphale smiled, and perhaps, for the first time, accepted the meaning of this moment.
It meant that Anthony’s suffering was about to come to an end. It meant that every hardship either of them carried afterwards would be one they carried together. It meant that for the rest of Aziraphale’s life, he’d be victim to Crowley’s cheeky teasing and tasked with facing the fallout of his devilish pranks against mean cooks and cruel paperboys. It meant Crowley, in turn, would endure Aziraphale’s ‘bastard nature’ and inevitably serve as Aziraphale’s memory in the many instances that Aziraphale had been too stuck in a book or the memory of one to have been listening when he ought to at social gatherings. It meant that they would have pups together, a pack together, a life together, married and mated as Alpha and Omega.
“Alright,” Aziraphale said, “Then I’ll give you eight.”
* * *
No storm was coming.
In fact, it was a lovely day. The clouds were drifting lazily and the gulls flapping happily through the breeze. Down the coast, Crowley even spotted a young couple playing with their pup on the beach.
But the wind on the cliffs was strong. It whipped through Crowley’s hair and his skirts and bit down to his bones. At worst, he hoped it would tear him apart, and at best, it might carry him away.
He could use an adventure right about now.
He closed his eyes, sighing at the smarting wind against his face. It was nice, he thought, to feel something outside the cage of his chest.
The wind slowed for a moment. Crowley didn’t mind. Being angry wouldn’t help. The wind was as fickle as he was, and it would do as it pleased.
The next gust of air came from down the coastline. It was more of a breeze, really, and it did something strange, unclenching his battered heart.
Crowley’s eyes fluttered open as he realized the scent it had carried with it, the reason for his reprieve.
His blood pounded through his veins, hammering in his ears, and he was almost afraid to look.
Ever so slowly, he turned his head, and his eyes widened as he found Aziraphale, standing ten yards down the coastline, hat in hand as he looked on at Crowley in a fashion so loving it had his heart bursting to pieces all over again.
It’s just a dream, he told himself, but he knew it wasn’t.
Aziraphale looked every bit as wary as Crowley felt, as if he hadn’t slept or eaten or shaved in days.
For a time, neither moved, and Crowley wondered if one or both of them would fall out of existence.
The Omega stopped breathing as Aziraphale came towards him, slowly at first, then ever so much faster. He daredn’t take another breath until one gloved hand was wrapped in that of the Alpha he did so adore. A moment later, the other was too.
Crowley’s eyes watered, and he shook his head at Aziraphale.
“What are you doing?” he whimpered.
“I’m asking you to marry me.”
The air was knocked from Crowley’s lungs whilst he had still been struggling to grapple it.
He didn’t understand.
“You-… you can’t, Aziraphale!”
“No? Your apa was not of the same opinion.”
“You…,” Crowley sighed, eyes darting as he looked for some sort of explanation.
The Alpha ought to have been disgusted with him, and if not that, he ought to feel deceived and used.
“You didnae hear,” Crowley reasoned.
“I did,” Aziraphale contradicted.
Crowley shook his head, and no sooner did tears spill over than Aziraphale was holding him close, wiping his tears away with a gloved hand. Even through his glove, his touch was like a vice. The Omega knew he shouldn’t have it, that he didn’t deserve it, that it should burn his skin, but it felt nothing short of heavenly. His eyes, tired and reddened from all his tears and his lack of sleep, fluttered closed. He couldn’t help himself but to nuzzle into the Alpha’s palm.
“But angel… you left,” he said, his voice a weak, broken-hearted whimper as the words escaped his lips.
“I had to. How else could I get it all sorted? You didn’t think I was gone for good, did you?”
Crowley’s eyes snapped open in alarm.
“Wh-what do you mean, sorted?!”
Aziraphale looked at him firmly- but even his firmest glance was ever so tender- and caught his chin in a gentle hold to keep his gaze.
“The nightmare is over, my darling. That nasty Omega’s maid was angry to see you happy, and so he made up a wretched story to drag you down into despair again.”
Crowley, shook his head, his mind spinning, “But- but he said that I-“
“All lies, my dear. He confessed as much in front of me and Mr. Fernsby, and no violence or aggression was used in inciting the truth.”
“Mr. Fernsby?” Crowley asked, weakly, feeling small and undeserving and subpar, even still.
“Yes, I’m afraid he was just as trapped under that Omega’s spell as you were. He received an abrupt education, and was struck with a swift guilt for all he’s put you through. I watched the documents be burned with my own eyes, and that maid will never bother us another day of our lives.”
Mismatched eyes darted about, but they settled on the Alpha’s face as Crowley’s chin was lightly lifted.
“You told me, once, that you feel when I am being honest. Feel it now, darling. You’ve done no wrong. You were used by a depraved opportunist, and you should never need to endure that pain again.”
Crowley searched Aziraphale’s gaze desperately, but he felt the honesty resonate in that well within him upon every word.
“I’m so confused, Aziraphale,” the Omega whimpered.
“I know, Crowley. I know you must feel so terribly shaken, but I have you. You’re not alone, and you needn’t have it sorted until you feel strong enough to sort it.”
“What about- my- my virtue?”
Aziraphale scoffed, and Crowley was so surprised by it he laughed. The Alpha looked as if he was in danger of melting into a puddle at having witnessed the minute break from misery.
“Ah yes, that’s what first attracted me to you- I had thought, ‘now he is a beacon of virtue!’ They’ll be putting statues of you up in churches soon enough. Saint Anthony, Patron of Virtue and Deference.”
Crowley laughed through his tears, but shook his head, struggling to pout.
“You can tease, but you can’t tell me you’re honestly alright with the fact that I’m- that- that before you it was only Omegas that…”
His vexed nerves nearly devoured him whole. Perhaps his persuasion had been one he’d always known- that, evidently, his pack had always known- but it was not one that he was accustomed to uttering aloud.
“Darling, it is a societal norm to pack adolescent Alphas into isolated boarding schools together without an Omega in miles during the height of their puberty. Needless to say, I’d be a wretched hypocrite to condemn you for engaging in affections with the same dynamic.”
Crowley felt his ears burn as he was presented with a very logical fact that he’d never quite managed to put together on his own.
“But-“
“Anthony, you may throw every conceivable argument my way, and I will have a rebuttal. You may say no if you wish. You may always say no to me, in fact, and I will always respect it. I will be patient. I will stay by your side as you find comfort and give you love when you need it and bring you back down to earth when you’re caught in the winds after floating up to the clouds- But it is only fair I warn you now, as long as I live, I will keep asking.”
“You’re mad,” Crowley laughed, heart warming as Aziraphale smiled tenderly, continuing to catch Crowley’s tears as they fell.
“Yes, I daresay that’s the effect you have on me,” he said.
Crowley grinned at him, hopelessly lost, and wondered if there was anything he’d done a day in his life to have earned such divine mercy.
He took a deep breath, “Well I’m afraid I can’t give you an answer.”
A bit of guilt dashed through him as Aziraphale’s face went white- but only a bit.
He found mercy, anyhow.
“Because ye have nae asked me, ye silly man!”
A gust of air rushed from Aziraphale’s lips, and he grinned, wrinkling his nose at Crowley and squeezing his face.
They laughed together as Aziraphale exclaimed, “You see! You’re a maddening creature!”
He took a shaking breath as they settled, and kissed each of Crowley’s gloved palms.
Then he extracted the ring box he had tucked into his inner coat pocket and lowered to a knee before Crowley.
For a moment, the Omega was certain Aziraphale would not get the chance to propose- as surely Crowley’s heart would explode from the dizzying happiness before he had the chance.
Yet he did speak, and whatever the state of Crowley’s heart, he heard him out most keenly.
“Anthony, I confess that for as many poems as I’ve written and as many speeches as I have in my head, I have long since accepted the fact that no words shall ever suffice to express all the feelings you have awakened and provoked in me. I’ve never loved anyone like you- I’ve certainly never met anyone like you… good God, I’m not sure the world would have a chance in hell of survival if there were another person in the world that was half the force you are-“
A laugh bubbled forth from Crowley’s chest, and while there were tears on his face, there was not a smidgen of sadness in sight.
“Oh thank you,” the Omega preened.
“Of course, dear,” Aziraphale chuckled, “In any case, I never thought I’d be so… so impossibly grateful to have my world tipped upside-down. I find myself more than happy to have it tilted whichever way you please, so long as I am never so unlucky to experience it right-side-up ever again.”
Crowley spotted his sweet, most beloved Alpha battle back the tears amassing, but as he had so aptly observed on countless occasions before- Azirpahale was a sap. Scarce a moment passed before his face was tracked with tears just as fiercely as Crowley’s, if not even moreso, and the Omega was fit to burst at the utter adoration fleeting through his veins.
In a moment, they would be allowed to touch, unimpeded by gloves or handkerchiefs, at long last, having waited the better part of a year for it. He would be allowed to brush Aziraphale’s tears away in turn, to kiss his weary eyelids and smear his own scent on him to soothe him.
Crowley’s heart pounded in anticipation. He willed it to shut the bloody hell up. His angel was speaking, and he so desperately wished to hear and know his words.
“Please, my darling, I could not be more humble in my request. I beg you, Omega, and I promise that, should you accept me, I will spend the rest of our lifetime battling to give you any happiness within my power and chasing away whatever sorrow dares to nip at your heels. Please, will you marry me?”
The box opened, and a moment before he saw it, Crowley might have thought he couldn’t go any more breathless.
Needless to say, as he spotted the stunning gold ring, a divine, massive cut of emerald inlaid at its center and wrapped safely in the strong coils of nothing other than a diamond-striped serpent, he found himself sorely mistaken.
A grin toyed at Crowley’s face, and he sniffled, primly dabbing the tears from his eyes before taking a deep, collecting breath. He straightened his back and stuck his nose in the air.
“Hmm, I dunnae ken. I’ll have to think about it.”
He barely bit back his laughter as he stole a glance down at Aziraphale, but he was helpless but to break into a fit as he found the absurd surprise on his Alpha’s face.
“You incorrigible creature!” Aziraphale blustered, soon joining Crowley in his laughter, “I can’t believe you would have me on even now!!”
Crowley grinned like a madman as he took Aziraphale’s face in his hands, his thumbs stroking over his cheeks.
“Ach, angel, I’ll have you on every day for the rest of our lives,” he laughed, “Of course I’ll marry you, Aziraphale.”
What a pair they made, unkempt and exhausted and wet-faced and radiating more pure, unadulterated joy than the whole world combined.
With sniffles and laughter, they removed their gloves.
Aziraphale took the ring from the box, gripping the cuff of Crowley’s delicate left wrist with one hand. With the other, he slid the perfect fit of a ring onto Crowley’s ring finger. The Omega watched it all with an unwavering gaze.
He wanted to remember this moment- every millisecond. Every detail. He wanted it branded on his mind for the rest of his life.
Crystal clear sea-colored eyes raised to meet his gaze, and a soft sigh was pulled forth as- at long last, Crowley and Aziraphale curled a finger in perfect tandem and brushed it against the other’s bare palm.
Crowley had never seen much of the world before, but in a brief moment, he saw something much more. Much grander.
He saw the entire universe, and he and Aziraphale were stars among it, locked into one another’s gravitational pull, matching each other in a perfect, synchronous dance.
The moment their skin touched, they came crashing together.
They were stars colliding, licks of flame hotter than the mind could imagine bursting into a cataclysm of bright, mighty colors. Planets shattered or blown into existence. Two celestial bodies merging in an awesome display of incomprehensible might. Perhaps they had spent millenia circling one another in a calm, steady presence, tied to one another’s push and pull. Two independent beings, just as powerful, just as bright.
No longer. They were one, now.
One almighty, blinding, awe-inspiring being of light.
The world was frozen, time was stopped, and the monumental moment was cut away, shared just between them.
Their souls had collided together, but when Crowley found himself in his mortal form, planted down on the earth’s surface once again, he found them as they had been only a moment earlier. He raised his gaze from the place they had touched- their hands now clasped together in an unbreakable grip- and looked into those stormy eyes that had enraptured him from the moment he’d spotted them across a dim dining room.
He gazed into the eyes of his True Mate, and his True Mate gazed back.
No wonder every moment together for the past year had felt like destiny- it had been, after all.
When the world began to spin again, it was their entire beings, soul and flesh, that came colliding together.
Each snatched the other into their arms, crumbling into a heap on the ground together. In moments Crowley was pulled onto his angel’s lap, and all manner of noises escaped the pair as they desperately scented themselves on the other.
They whimpered and whined and sobbed uncontrollably, and under the cries, Crowley’s euphoric purr and Aziraphale’s adoring growl steadily sounded in a perfect harmony. They remained there for ages, worlds away from the reality around them, and gasped for air.
The Omega snatched at his Alpha’s face, only managing to peel himself away enough to stare into his stunning eyes.
He laughed and cried and gasped as he expressed, “fockin’ hell, angel, all this time! What sort of bloody fools are we?”
Aziraphale laughed back, crushing Crowley impossibly closer as he captured his lips- and oh, they were so much warmer without a handkerchief pressed over them, and softer than Crowley had ever dared to imagine.
Crowley cradled his precious angel’s face, kissing him madly and desperately, the way he’d always yearned to and then some, until they were forced to resurface for air.
“I couldn’t possibly say, my love,” Aziraphale laughed back, peppering every speck of Crowley’s face with presses of his lips until the Omega was sure he’d more kisses than freckles. “But what a story to tell our pups, hm?”
Crowley cackled, “That’s for damn certain! Oh, Alpha, how I love you. I never knew anyone could feel anything like this- I reckon I might’ve made fun of anyone who’d tried to convince me they had!
“Oh, I know, my dearest darling, my beautiful Omega,” Aziraphale sighed, pulling Crowley forward and scenting him with a vengeance. How marvelous he smelled, how hopeless Crowley was to his scent when he’d already been so foolishly certain that he could not be any more addicted. “I know because I feel it too.”
For what felt like mere seconds and was likely minutes on end, the pair cycled through desperate cuddles, kisses, scents, and loving gazes into one another’s eyes, finding it impossible to settle on which they needed most before becoming overwhelmed with the need for another.
Eventually, the sharp edge of overstimulation at the realization dulled into a warm, all-encompassing happiness, the comfort of which Crowley was certain was incomparable to anything that he’d ever come across in his lifetime.
“You were nae in Cheshire,” Crowley mumbled after a time.
They had laid out in the grass, their chests pressed close and Crowley’s head tucked safely under Aziraphale’s. He very much liked it, feeling wrapped up in his Alpha’s arms and surrounded by his protective growl.
“Hm?”
“When I first- erm,” Crowley’s face heated, “ reacted to your scent, it was when Anathema had first come to England. It was a whole crowd of people, and so I couldn’t tell what scent it was, but you weren’t there. I would have noticed you.”
“Ah,” Aziraphale remarked, breathing fondly through his nose as Crowley sounded a petulant whine at his Alpha pulling away to look at him. He received sweet kisses to his eyelids, to the shadow of his nose, and finally to his lips as compensation. “No, I wasn’t, but Apa was. She is very bossy about exchanging scents whenever we part.”
Crowley raised his brows, surprised at it. He hadn't quite noticed Celeste either, but with the unexpected influx of people who had invited themselves to Anathema’s manor, Crowley had socialized very little before having to lock himself away to endure his heat.
Aziraphale rolled onto his back, and Crowley happily cuddled closer, nuzzling against his chest.
“Did you like Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea?” the Alpha asked.
The Omega lifted his head, fixing his True Mate with a curious look, and upon finding his grin, was helpless but to laugh, nuzzling under his jaw and rubbing his face indulgently against his scent gland.
“I liked it very much,” he said, “but I dare say that it’s only just now become my favorite.”
* * *
The sun was a bit low when Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered open, and he squinted.
Whatever opposition he had to falling asleep on the cold ground of exposed and windy cliffs were assuaged and then some as he found his greatest love, his devilish darling, his true mate wrapped up in his arms and cuddled against his chest.
He couldn’t see much of his face from the angle in which they were arranged, but he fondly watched his red lashes flutter for quite some time.
He had to believe it was quite nearly tea time, and it seemed prudent that they should return to the castle, lest it was suspected that they’d been up to no good.
Reluctant as he was to wake Crowley from such desperately required rest, he nuzzled into his red curls- far softer than he’d ever dared to dream- and pressed a kiss to the tip of his widow’s peak.
Crowley sounded a lazy trill that sent Aziraphale’s heart a flutter, and the Alpha might have dropped dead at the preciousness as his Omega nuzzled upwards against his face until they were kissing.
“That has to have been the best nap I’ve ever had,” he mumbled, cuddling closer to Aziraphale.
“What a proclamation!”
“I’m glad you understand what it’s up against,” Crowley laughed, his purr soon sounding again and making Aziraphale feel all manner of happiness he’d never known possible.
“We should get back. I do believe it’s nearly tea time. They’ll be wondering after us.”
Crowley sounded a petulant whine.
“Do we have to?”
“Perhaps it’s foolish to make such a daring claim, but I do believe your apa feels something akin to like for me. I should hate to test it.”
The Omega laughed, sitting up and sprinkling a handful of grass on his Alpha’s face for some inexplicable reason.
Most likely to watch him sputter, Aziraphale realized as wrinkled his nose and shook his head.
“You’ll get it for that!”
“I look forward to it,” Crowley chirped, leaning down to kiss the tip of Aziraphale’s nose before hopping to his feet.
He offered his hand, and when the Alpha took it, he ensured that he was nothing less than completely dead weight.
He watched in amusement as the Omega tried with all his might to make him budge and found no success. It was quite precious, really, and Crowley lasted quite a bit longer than Aziraphale had anticipated before taking a break, out of breath, and sounding an even more precious little growl.
Aziraphale yelped as Crowley poked him under the ribs with the tip of his shoe.
“C’mon, ye stubborn bastard! If you don’t get up I’m going to eat all the sandwiches and you won’t get any at all!”
The Alpha sounded a scandalized gasp, but really he was overjoyed at the idea that Crowley had any intention of eating at all.
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Ach, but I absolutely would dare!” Crowley teased, pointedly releasing Aziraphale’s arm and letting it flop down on his stomach.
“Now wait just a moment!” Aziraphale blustered, scrambling to his feet and rushing after his-
Well, his fiancé.
Crowley grinned, rounding Aziraphale and lacing their fingers together.
They walked at a slow pace, eventually coming to a standstill as Aziraphale became captivated by the view.
He sighed, breath taken, and felt that he was being watched as Crowley curiously rested his chin on his shoulder.
“It really is beautiful,” he said.
The Omega lifted his chin, tilting their temple together, that they might share the exact same view.
“I told you the water is always like that,” he said.
Aziraphale blinked, pulling away just enough to look into mismatched honey and chocolate eyes. It was hard to focus on anything really, what with the scent of honeyed lavender herbs swirling about his senses, but he found himself quite puzzled.
“Always like what?”
“Like that,” Crowley stated again, nodding towards the water, “Like dark opal, with all that color bouncing off it like beacons.”
Aziraphale felt even more lost than before, and looked back out at the ocean. It was the same grey navy that it had always appeared.
“I always thought your eyes looked like pieces stolen straight out of it,” Crowley hummed, accentuating the thought with a fond chirp.
He frowned for a moment, and was promptly shook to his core at the following realization.
“Crowley… how do you know about that? It was something I dreamt…”
Crowley’s brows raised in surprise, but only briefly. A slow smile came to his face, and he pressed a kiss to his True Mate’s cheek.
“So was our picnic here, and yet you found me anyway,” he pointed out.
Without a single additional word of explanation, he stepped away with a playful spin and walked ahead, swaying in that intoxicating manner he did away from prying eyes.
Aziraphale stared after, absolutely flabbergasted.
“Wait- but- Crowley? Did we have the same dream? Crowley, I don’t understand!” he blustered, clueless as the Omega laughed at his expense.
True to form, Crowley charged forth in the world, his head high without a clue where he was truly going. Aziraphale went stumbling after, just as clueless, but determined to keep up, lest his bullheaded Omega go running into trouble head-first.
It didn’t happen in a library, Aziraphale would realize later. In fact it was the most significant event of his lifetime, and it was far from any grand manors or extravagant book collections.
But his world was rather twice as big now, and he’d countless adventures awaiting him. With Crowley at his side, all bets were off. His only certainty was that his life from here on out was entirely unpredictable. There was no promise of patterns, and nothing would be the same ever again.
Aziraphale couldn’t wait.