Chapter Text
He was nervous. There was no denying it.
Which was ironic, really, because the part that most people would be nervous about, namely summoning a supernatural creature of indeterminate power was coming like a second nature to him now. He could probably conduct the entire summoning process from memory if he tried (he didn’t, he’d always checked with a photocopy of his by now well-worn out notes to make sure he didn’t make any mistakes but they just confirmed that he did, by now, know the process by heart). No, the whole reason behind his nerves was where he was attempting the summoning today.
When he woke up to a lovely summer day outside, he decided that there was no point in delaying and this was as good an opportunity as he was going to get. Decision made, he prepared the food and packed the basket into his Mini (that might have been half his age but was still a perfectly functional car, thank you very much—and Anathema really had no leg to stand on, implying otherwise with the car her young man was happily driving). His resolve lasted until he was about half way to the cottage. After that, he was only getting increasingly certain of what a bad idea this all was. Not to mention, what he was about to do would probably be terribly impolite, getting Crowley here earlier than usual. Not that he really had any other way of communicating with him to give him an advanced notice.
Still, there was nothing for it. He’d have to show Crowley the unrefutable evidence of his lack of judgement sooner or later and at least the day was otherwise nice enough to give him some hope that the rest of his plans could be salvaged.
At least the paving slabs in front of the cottage were smooth enough to allow him to draw the chalk symbols without much of a problem. He hoped Crowley would understand if the by now traditional offering of tea this time came in the form of a lukewarm brew from his thermos.
The circle activated in the usual manner and a moment later he was face to face with his friend who was blinking at him, narrowing his eyes in the bright sunlight.
“Aziraphale?” he asked with a touch of uncertainty that immediately had Aziraphale realise the problem.
“Oh, I’m sorry, my dear. Give me just a second,” he said quickly as he hurried to his car parked outside the entrance gate (he didn’t dare to check if the larger one, intended for vehicles, could be opened at all, He supposed he’d need to make an attempt at some point). He reached into the glove compartment for a pair of dark glasses and brought them back to Crowley. “Here, my dear, try those. I’m afraid I didn’t have the foresight to think the sunlight could bother you.” (Well that, and he suspected Crowley of at least occasionally visiting India which would imply it shouldn’t be a problem.)
“Ah, thanks.” Crowley wasted no time slipping the glasses on. “ And don’t worry about it, really. I just usually need a bit to adjust. It’s never this bright down below so, you know, this was a bit unexpected. And speaking of the unexpected—” He looked pointedly around. “— where are we exactly?”
Aziraphale looked down. Then he tried to meet Crowley’s gaze again, determined to cover this information with humour. “Remember how we were talking about only being able to afford a house if it was in ruins?” He gestured to the cottage. “Well, those are the ruins. The garden in the back is quite lovely though, so I thought you might be persuaded to join me on a little picnic?”
“I’m always happy to join you,” Crowley grinned and picked up the picnic basket from next to where Aziraphale was standing. Then he offered his other hand to Aziraphale who gladly took it.
It was a bit tricky to walk hand in hand with someone who was moving in a slithering motion but he wouldn’t change that for anything. They rounded the building and Crowley suddenly stopped, setting the basket down and removing the sunglasses as he looked around.
“Full agreement, Aziraphale,” he said, clearly impressed by what he was seeing. “The garden is fantastic. It might need some discipline and showing who's in charge but this place could really be something.”
“You know how to garden then?” This was new information and could certainly be useful now that Aziraphale had saddled himself with this place. He suspected that any bit of advice would be invaluable.”
“I’ve dabbled. Always thought the ones in Babylon turned out quite nicely.” Now that was absolutely something Aziraphale was going to unpack later .
“I’ll certainly be asking you a lot of questions about managing it soon,” he said instead, picking up the basket himself. “But for now, let us settle down for our picnic, shall we?”
“Sure,” Crowley was still looking around distractedly. When Aziraphale cleared his throat he smiled a bit sheepishly (or at least as much so as it was possible for someone with sharp features and fangs). “Listen, how about you set up the picnic spot and I’ll take care of this so it’s out of the way and we can just relax later?” He gestured vaguely to the side.
“As you like, my dear.” Aziraphale didn’t really know what Crowley was referring to specifically, but he had nothing against setting out their picnic and spending time relaxing together so he simply nodded and busied himself spreading out the blanket (really how had the grass got so long again when he’d just cut it two weeks ago?).
He had just finished arranging dishes on the blanket when he looked up, hearing the snap of Crowley’s fingers. And then he could only stare in disbelief when the old cottage ruins apparently rippled, the building straightening and fixing itself until he was left looking at a brand new Victorian cottage with only the decades old vine climbing on one wall being an indicator of the building’s actual age. With some effort he tore his gaze away from the sight to look at Crowley instead. Crowley, who was wearing the look of satisfaction of having completed a mundane but necessary house chore. Aziraphale was certain he had seen him wearing that exact look more than once when he washed the dishes after their dinner as Aziraphale was busy selecting something for them to drink.
“I guess that should do it,” he said with satisfaction of a job well done. “I hope I didn’t miss anything. Let me know if I did, yeah?”
“I’m sure you’ve done an excellent job, my dear. Thank you.”
“Said I would, didn’t I?” Crowley shrugged disarmingly as if he hadn’t just magically restored an entire house. “Now what have you got for us, Aziraphale?”
“Oh, nothing much. Just an assortment of sandwiches, a pasta salad and I picked up that palak paneer that you like so much.”
“Sounds perfect,” Crowley declared, stretching himself out on the ground with a contented expression, arranging his long tail so it would all be in the sun. He reached for one of the sandwiches and munched on it, rolling to his back, sunning himself like a self-indulgent cat. Aziraphale smiled at him fondly. He returned the smile. “So, have you given any thought to how you want to furnish the place?”
“Not yet. To be honest, I haven’t really taken a good look inside. Would you be interested in joining me in that endeavour after we eat?”
“Sure. Should be fun to look around. Do you want me to toss in a few ideas too?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, my dear.”
III
It was an odd feeling, to be furnishing his own house. In part, because he could hardly believe that he did, in fact, own a house to furnish. Especially since there was no hurry and he couldn’t quite bring himself to transfer all his belongings to the cottage just like that.
At first, it was a reasonable precaution. Having the cottage miraculously restored by Crowley was amazing enough but he couldn’t be sure to what extent his friend’s power could deal with technicalities such as electricity or running water. He had found a local handyman to take a good look at all the wiring and plumbing before proceeding any further.
The old Mr Johnson had declared the house safe and had nothing but praise for the ‘contractors’ who had supposedly helped Aziraphale restore the cottage. He had mentioned that he remembered the cottage had already been in quite a state of disrepair when he was coming here as a boy to get apples from Mrs Henderson and that he didn’t think anyone attempted any repairs after she’d passed away. He had also mentioned that the apple trees in the back of the garden had supposedly the best apples in several villages' radius. Aziraphale suspected that the claim was a bit exaggerated but made a mental note to mention it to Crowley who had been taking a lot of interest in the garden.
After the all-clear from the handyman, Aziraphale began to cautiously make the place his own. He ordered a whole-wall-shelf for one of the rooms to hold his book collection, he scoured Preloved and local second-hand shops and came out victorious with a lovely vintage desk and a glass cabinet and he indulged, buying various kitchen appliances, determined to do more cooking now that he’d (hopefully) have produce from his own garden. He would also, without consciously thinking about, look for any furniture that would be comfortable for someone with more serpentine-like anatomy (and he’d rather not go into detail of how that included a purchase of a low-rise, very sturdy bed that, once assembled, took up one of the rooms almost entirely).
The cottage filled up slowly and every time he drove there, he’d take a box of his belongings, but he was still referring to it as ‘the cottage’ rather than ‘home’ in his head. It was a lovely place to go for a weekend (of which Fridays, spent in Crowley’s company were without fail the highlight while the rest of the time was spent on trying to tidy up or keep up with the garden—he was rather afraid the weeds were winning at the moment).
It was with some surprise that he discovered, some time late August that most of his personal items had already been transferred to the cottage and of everything else he could need on every day basis he had doubles for his flat and the cottage.
III
“Tulips,” Crowley said decisively over his dessert, after a period of silence.
“I beg your pardon, my dear?” Aziraphale, who had been quite enjoying his eclair looked at him in surprise. Had he not known any better he’d assume that the non-sequitour was a result of his friend simply trying to distract himself (he had been quite intently staring at him eating a moment ago so it was possible he had let his thoughts run away with him).
“We should plant tulip bulbs in front of the window this autumn. They will look great come spring.”
“That does sound lovely but I hardly know anything about tulips. I wouldn’t want them to go to waste. To be honest, half of the time it feels like I hardly know what I’m doing with the garden.”
“I could give you a hand, if you like,” Crowley’s response was immediate and with the way his eyes were shining, it seemed less like he was offering to do a chore and more like he had some great source of entertainment within his grasp.
“Oh, would you? That would be wonderful. I know you said you had the experience but I didn’t want to bother you after you’ve done so much with the cottage.”
“It’s no bother.” Crowley cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in his own eclair. He was addressing the dessert when he spoke next. “I’d have offered earlier but I didn’t want to impose.”
Aziraphale blinked in surprise. “My dear, you should know by now that I’d have welcomed your help. I do hope you can feel at home here. I wouldn’t have this place had it not been for you.”
“But it’s still your place.”
“I’d have no objection to considering it ours, if you don’t mind.”
Crowley’s eyes widened as he met his gaze. “Aziraphale—” he started saying, then he apparently lost his nerve. He looked away, focussing on the garden instead. “It’s already getting dark today. Why don’t you call me again tomorrow morning, we can get started then?”
Aziraphale took a deep breath. One of them had to be brave. “Or you could simply stay the night? If that’s something you’d like?”
For a half-serpent being that could easily overpower any human, Crowley seemed surprisingly vulnerable when he met Aziraphale’s gaze again. “I’d like that very much.”
III
The garden had never looked more beautiful. It was truly amazing how much could be achieved by spending a few weekends working side by side (of course, the fact that one of the people working actually knew what he was doing, had supernatural strength and could use magic when needed didn’t hurt either).
Aziraphale was sipping his morning tea at the table in the kitchen, the coffee machine murmuring quietly as Crowley’s coffee was finishing brewing. The dear loved his sleep very much (and enjoyed the bed Aziraphale selected a lot—it was definitely worth every penny spent on the purchase) but the smell of the freshly brewed coffee usually had the power to draw him out of the bedroom. Sure enough, there was a soft yawning sound coming from the room and a moment later Crowley sleepily emerged.
One would probably assume that shuffling drowsily would be impossible to achieve for a creature that naturally moved by sliding on the floor regardless. One would be wrong. There was something deeply endearing in the sight of not-quite awake Crowley, eyes barely open, hair mussed and usually sharp reflexes retaining the sharpness of a glass marble.
“Good morning, my dear.” Aziraphale greeted, standing up and handing him the cup of fresh coffee.
Crowley took it and sipped it gratefully. “Mornin’. Should be a nice day out. With some luck we could prepare the spot for planting that pear tree for you. Then you could order it and it should be delivered before I get here next week.”
Aziraphale swallowed. There was something he intended to talk to Crowley about and this was probably as good an opening as he’d get. “About that, my dear. I’ve been meaning to ask. Is there actually something dictating that you need to go back to wherever you go?”
“Ngk. Not as such. Why?”
“In that case, there is something I’d like to talk to you about. How would you feel about simply staying here, with me?”
Crowley stared at him for a moment, then finished his coffee in one big gulp, apparently deciding the matter needed more caffeine. He then met Aziraphale’s gaze again. “Seriously? You’d want that?”
“To be honest, my dear, I would want that very much. I’ve observed that the cottage only properly feels like home when we’re here together and I believe I’ve already told you I’m prepared to consider it ours . But this should be as much about what you want.”
“Are you kidding? Give me the flimsiest excuse and I’d never leave.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to think about it?”
“There is nothing to think about.”
“In that case, welcome home, my dear,” Aziraphale extended his hand and Crowley took it eagerly. “You know, I’ve been thinking, there is that little pond in the back of the garden. If we had a couple of ducks, we’d have a way to go feed ducks together without you needing to worry about any prying eyes.”
Crowley grinned, slithering closer to Aziraphale. “Sounds excellent. Where does one even get ducks?”
“You know, I have no idea. But I’m sure we will figure it out.”
THE END