#'hell yeah time to reduce this tower to RUBBLE. time to just go in there and EXPLODE into a righteous fury.'

[jacqcrisis]

WOW WYLL

RUDE

[tommyspeakycap]

New Beginnings

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 2976

Summary - After the battle in Manhattan, a man who hates the idea of a doctor definitely needs one. A friend of Pepper Potts' lends a hand and consequently changes Steve's long-lived disposition for getting medical help.

a/n - set after the battle of New York in the avengers

Since Steve had woken up, or rather been woken up after he was found in the ice after 70 years, he had not once visited the doctor other than those at S.H.I.E.L.D when they had forced him to. For one, he didn’t ever get sick now and reason two would be that he just hates the concept. He spent a great deal of his time in doctors offices and speaking to specialists diagnosing him with all forms of new medical conditions from when he was in a child to before he was given the serum. It wasn’t somewhere he wanted to go now and those days weren’t exactly the ones he liked to remember even if he was the absolute picture of health now.

That didn’t so much apply however when he, Tony, Thor, Natasha, Bruce and Clint were finally able to stop after fighting for hours against unrelenting waves of aliens trying to take New York. They were all battered and bruised to some degree, some arguably more than others.

Steve looks around with a pounding heart. It never gets easier to think about the losses that are likely to mount up after a battle, the buildings that fell and the people who stood unable in the face of the large aliens with huge powerful guns. It only adds to the hurt that stems from seeing the city he loves reduced half to rubble with skyscrapers crumbled to the ground, flaming, flipped cars scattering the road and entire streets all but destroyed.

Before he does anything else, Steve wants to go down to the subway that he insisted the police put people in to ensure they all get out safely before he heads to meet up with the rest of the team back at Stark tower. There are more ambulances lining what’s left of the roads than he can even begin to count and he’s extremely glad they hadn’t destroyed any hospitals because they were going to need every bed that they had. He helped some people up out of the Subway with the officers and some people thanked him, some people gawked at him and some seemed too much in shock to even notice he was there. Steve stood just watching for longer than he would care to admit.

He supposes he would say he’s just taking everything in. It feels as though the world is quite the same as to when he lived in it at first. People still come together when they need to and there are still bad people who want to stand above the rest.

As his feet carry him back over crunching rubble in the direction of Stark tower to meet up with the rest, Steve can’t help but think about how he wishes his best friend could be with him for this battle. There wasn’t anyone Steve preferred to have on his side and he did tremendously miss his friend.

“No no no!” Steve hears yelling above the rest of the commotion,a noise which immediately diverts his train of thought. He turns his head to see if he can catch a glimpse of what was going on to see if there was anything he could do to help. “He has to go first, he’s got an ICH with a blown pupil. He won’t make it halfway to the hospital if he has to wait another twenty minutes!” Steve rounds the corner at a slow jog. He’s met with a woman with her hair tied back tightly out of her face, which was smeared with dirt and dust and it looked as though she had been climbing amongst the rubble to help recover the last of the people from that building. “Look ma’am, we have a kid in there.” The EMT tries to explain, but you just give him an incredulous look, “With a closed tib-fib fracture, he’ll live! This guy is bleeding into his brain, do you have one of those-” You lean closer to him, squinting your eyes and sweeping dust off of his badge, “Jack. Do you have a brain, Jack?” The EMT in front of you opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. “Yes ma’am.” He stutters. “Good,” you snip, “Then get the kid in a wheelchair for the next ambulance and bluelight this guy to the nearest hospital, now!”

The EMT scrambles to do as told and you push your hair back again with a heavy sigh as you walk away the second they get him in the stretcher and into the ambulance. Steve smiles slightly to himself. There’s nothing quite like a powerful woman in his eyes and no force like an angry one. He’d hate to be on that woman’s bad side and he knows now that he was wrong to think his help would be needed there. The super soldier simply walks away again with his shield held tightly in his hand. He bids a wordless respect to the woman who rolls up her sleeves again and cups her hands over her mouth, shouting out for anyone who might need help from her clearly medically experienced hands.

“Dear God, look at you lot!” Pepper exclaims as they walk in, immediately rushing to hug Tony tightly. “You all need to get checked over medically. Like now.” She says firmly, but each one shakes their heads. “The hospitals will be busy enough,” Bruce says, “I just saw a woman fighting for an ambulance. We’ll heal.” Steve agrees, folding his painful arms. “They’re right.” Tony nods. Pepper shakes her head, “I knew you’d say that, which is why Fury and I had a medical floor set up. There’s nurses there to patch you guys up and a doctor there if anybody needs one. All of you, go. Now.” Most want to protest, but opt not to at her stern words and instead follow the nurse who had come to greet them.

All but Steve.

“I’ll be fine.” He states, shaking his head and turning away. “Excuse me,” Pepper calls out to him, “Please, Steve. You really need to get seen.” She insists, but he keeps walking.

“(y/n), oh my god!” Pepper sighs heavily in relief, rushing towards you the second you walk out the revolving door that only had one glass panel left in it. “Thank God you're safe. This is one of them I was going to ask you to take a look at.” Once she releases you from the tight hug, she points after Steve who was still limping away towards the stairs. “Can’t get him to go to the med floor though.” She mutters to you beneath her breath. You shoot her a smile that says she needn't worry.

“Oi!” You call out, barely eliciting a turn of the head from the man in the blue suit. “Hey you!” You try again, you merely get him to stop walking. “Me?” He says, but still didn’t turn to look at you. He was trying to place where he had heard your voice, but his head was hurting too much to put a lot of thought into it. “Yeah, you. You better get America’s ass right back over here and march it right down to that med floor.”

Your tone makes him turn around immediately, his eyebrows slightly furrowed for a moment before he realised it hurt to do that too. He fought back a smile over those pink lips. “I thought I knew your voice.”

His response prompts your eyebrows to shoot up as you eyed him and then Pepper in confusion. “Have we met?” You ask, tilting your head slightly to the side. Steve shakes his head, “Oh no, sorry. I just saw you a while ago yelling at a paramedic over an ambulance about an ICH, whatever that means.” The blonde shrugs, offering you a slight smile. You chuckle at his words and shake your head. “Well then I’m sure you’ll do as I tell you. Save me doing anymore yelling today?”

Steve doesn’t have much more fight left in him for today and he would be lying if he said his body wasn’t aching. He could probably do with some pain killers and the cut on his arm would likely hurt a lot less, as well as be quicker to heal if he were to get it stitched up. He doesn’t say anything, but he does sigh and decides to follow you through the lobby and down a flight of stairs to the newly designated medical floor.

“Nice of you to join us, Cap!” Tony jests out, “And (y/n)!” He cheers. You only flip him off in response with a roll of your eyes as you lead the tall man behind you into one of the private rooms filled with medical supplies.

“Sit on the bed there.” You instruct, walking over to wash your hands, arms and face before you do anything else.

“I don’t think I need-”

“On the bed, Captain.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

You nod your head and turn to smile at him softly. Your smile is beautiful. It actually alleviates a little of his pain just to see it, and he truly is surprised by the softness and gentility of it in comparison to the attitude he had thus far witnessed from you in the short time he’s known you.

He groans and the medical bed creaks a little when he climbs on as you pull the latex gloves over your hands. He watches you very tentatively, attempting to eye the things that you gather from various boxes around the room and place onto the wheeled table. “Sorry for yelling at you earlier.”

Your softer voice makes him smile slightly again. “It’s alright,” Steve brushed off with a shrug, shifting himself so he could strip his suit off like you had told him to do just before you entered the room. He kind of awkwardly places the material of the suit over his boxers and the tops of his thighs. He doesn’t exactly want to sit basically naked in front of a woman he didn’t even really know. He still had a lot of his 1940’s mannerisms written into his behaviour. You turn back around to face him and don’t seem to take much notice of his huge, bare torso on the medical bed in front of you. Instead, your eyes scan his body for where to start on his injuries.

It seems as though you opt for cleaning his face first, which makes him feel slightly embarrassed to just sit and let you do it. You use a cloth and hot water for the dried blood, followed by an alcohol cloth that stings a surprising amount. You only place a steri strip over the gash on his forehead and then turn to the open cut on his shoulder. He knows that it’ll heal in less than 24 hours and he won’t have so much as a mark in its place. But it’ll heal a hell of a lot quicker if it’s closed and clean, so he allows you to begin working on it.

He hisses when you do, and you stop for a moment.

“Intracranial hemorrhage.” You say seemingly out of the blue. “What?” Steve asks, the pain in his arm dissipating. “Intracranial hemorrhage. ICH. What the guy you saw me fighting for the ambulance had. He got stuck under some rubble and it caused his brain to bleed. That increases the pressure in his head until you drill a hole to release it. Sometimes you have to take out a whole section of the skull and leave the head open until the swelling goes down around the brain. It’s super interesting.” Steve is entranced by your jabbering on, his eyes literally glued onto you as you work. Hands tentatively maneuvering a needle through his skin as gently as you can to pull the two separate sides back together.

You flick your eyes up to him to see the grin and his blue eyes shining in anticipation for your next words. “He was pretty bad considering the circumstances. A blown pupil- dilated pupil- is usually a huge warning sign that he needs treatment like, right away. He wasn’t responding to much physical stimuli, but you'd be amazed by the recovery that a lot of people with that type of injury can make within literally just a few days of the surgery. The brain is pretty cool.” You continue on. Steve doesn’t want you to ever stop talking. Your voice has apparently turned off all of the pain receptors in his body as he watches the focus pull your brows together ever so slightly and part your lips as you tie the knot at the end of his arm stitches, carefully wiping over it and placing a white gauze dressing over the wound. “Those should dissolve in your skin even if you are a super-healer or whatever.” You turn your attention next to a cut just above his kneecap.

“Sorry for the rambling, wild day. I’ll stitch that one up too then you should be good to get back to your superhero post-battle business.” Your tease makes him chuckle slightly as he watches you roll the wheeled table and your stool round to the other side of him to wipe down his knee before you start to stitch it. Steve had a tough day too, and he hadn’t yet learned how he would cope with those in modern day, but he had a hunch that listening to you might be the key. However, it comes across to him like your way was talking about things that weren’t as scary as the fact that aliens descended from the sky and destroyed half of New York City. “What about a closed TibFib then?” Steve asks softly with kindness swimming around in those sky blue eyes. “Tell me about that?”

After a further half hour finishing his stitching, cleaning him up properly and getting him some fresh clothes, you found yourself surprisingly sad to be leaving the company of the kind, attractive, super soldier you had newly become acquainted with. He seemed pretty solemn about it too, but you couldn’t tell if he was just exhausted from his day's worth of fighting. You had gotten to know each other through the short time you got to spend with him, and he was glad he had at first refused any form of medical treatment for if he hadn’t he probably wouldn’t have had you as his caregiver.

“Thank you for...all this.” He gestures to himself, referring to the stitches, his newly clean skin and clothes. “And for talking to me. It really means a lot.” Steve admits, his voice a little shy with the lightest dusting of pink flushing his cheeks. You smile without thought for the first time that day. “It’s a pleasure. Thank you for listening to me, and for not calling me a bossy bitch.” You breathe a chuckle of laughter as you turn your back to him to empty all the rubbish into the bin. So you don’t see the anger that passes through his eyes at the thought of someone ever calling you that, or the tilt of his head in irritation. You were so strong and a true powerhouse of a woman in his eyes. Clearly incredibly smart. He was pretty much smitten with you already.

“That would be incredibly rude.” Steve states firmly, “I just think you’re a very smart and a very beautiful woman. And you are incredible. Saved a lot of people today down in the rubble.”

You turn back around to see him, standing now much closer to you. “Says you, Mr Alien-slayer.” You grin back up at him. He isn’t the kind to go in for a kiss on the first date, never mind the first time ever meeting a woman, so he takes a gentle step back much to your disappointment. “I believe you called me America’s ass, earlier today.”  He corrects lightly and you turn your eyes to the ground as your face flushes red with a giggle of embarrassment as he laughs with you. “Sorry about that, Steve.”

That was actually the first time you had said his name and God he loved how it sounded leaving your pretty lips. “It’s okay. Kinda liked it, suits me don’t you think?” He turns side on and twists his back to look down at his ass dramatically and you throw your head back laughing. It’s such music to his ears and he’s yet to hear another sound since he woke that brings such a great amount of joy and warmth straight to his heart.

“Well,” you hum softly as you pull out a piece of paper and scrawl some writing down on it with a pen from your scrubs breast pocket, “If America’s ass ever finds himself in need of a stitch up or a chat, anything really, then this is where to find me.” You tuck the little bit of ripped paper into his large hand and gently peck his cheek before opening the door and walking off through the medical floor. He looked down at that little bit of paper, reading over some numbers and your name.

“(y/n),” he says softly to himself, subconsciously smiling at the way your name feels so beautiful on his lips. “What you got there, Cap?” Natasha asks as she leans herself on the doorframe of the room he stands frozen in. Steve looks up at her in surprise, “Uh, nothing much.” He diffuses, shrugging his shoulders as he takes one more glance down at the paper. “You sure?” She presses. “Yeah.” He assures. She turns to walk away just as realisation hits him. “Oh wait,” he calls after her, a shy smile on his lips.

“You know anywhere I could get a phone?”

[ironwoman359]

"it's my job to protect you!" And what do you think my job is?!" Prinxiety (possibly in the Mario AU if you want)

I’ll Protect You

Summary: This prompt has been sitting in my inbox for awhile now, and at last the perfect scenario has come to mind for it! For @sugarglider9603‘s Mario AU, because it always seems to cure my writer’s block, and I love it so much.

Content Warnings: Arguing, some minor cursing, injury (including head injury and a minor burn),the tiniest bit of blood, being tied up, cartoon violence, cartoon villain Deceit, kidnapping. Pairing: Prinxiety (Logicality also exists in universe and is mentioned)

Word Count: 4,615

To read more of my work in the Mario AU, check out my Sanders Sides AU Masterlist. To read more of my work in general, check out my full Fic Masterlist

Like what I do? Consider buying me a coffee! 

———

Sometimes, Roman wondered how he had managed to fall in love with somebody so stubborn. 

“I’m coming with you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“If you’re going, I’m going too!” 

Roman sighed as he turned away to pull his armor on over his regular orange tunic. There were reports of a piranha-plant attack at the edge of his kingdom;  something that ordinarily would not be too difficult to handle, but people were saying this particular piranha-plant attacking was like nothing anyone had ever seen. It was stampeding through his kingdom, and so far no one had been able to stop it. Roman had decreed that he would go confront the beast, but Virgil was adamant that he not go unless he had extra protection. 

Unfortunately, Virgil was also insisting that he be that extra protection, and Roman was having none of it. 

“I am a prince, I can order you to stay behind.” 

“Oh yeah?” Virgil countered. “Well I’m your boyfriend.” 

“What’s that got to do with anything?” 

“It’s my job to protect you, dumb-ass!” 

“And what do you think my job is then?” Roman asked, his voice rising in volume as he spun around to meet Virgil’s eyes. “I am the prince of this kingdom! It’s my job to protect everyone in it, and that includes you. So there’s now way in hell I’m letting you follow me out there to face who knows what kind of danger!”

Virgil shrank back from the outburst, and a wave of guilt instantly washed over Roman, quenching whatever flames of anger had been building in his stomach.

“Oh, I’m sorry my Stormcloud,” Roman sighed and pulled Virgil into a hug. “I didn’t mean to shout at you.” He kissed the top of Virgil’s head, and the two stayed like that for a moment, just existing in one another’s space. 

After a moment Roman shifted, cupping Virgil’s face and staring into his eyes.

“Virgil, please,” he pleaded. “I can’t let you go. It’s going to be dangerous.” 

“I know,” Virgil said softly, placing his hand over Roman’s, meeting his gaze steadily. “That’s why I won’t let you go alone.” 

Roman sighed, but he was smiling as he said “You’re not going to give up, are you?” 

“Nope.” Virgil shook his head. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Roman said, and he kissed the top of Virgil’s head again. “It’s one of the things I love about you.” 

———

When the two of them reached the part of Sarasaland that had reported the disturbance, it was immediately obvious that no, this was not an ordinary piranha-plant attack. The plant in question was huge, towering higher than Roman or Virgil had ever seen, and its bulbous head was lined with yellow flower petals. Unlike most piranha-plants, it had actual limbs, and somehow the large leaves that acted as its arms also functioned as wings, allowing the creature to move about freely and wreak as much havoc as it pleased. 

“Well, this can’t get any more bizarre,” Roman commented as he and Virgil stared up at the monster flying back and forth through the town. The creature promptly opened its mouth and hacked up a massive ball of some kind of sludge. The goop splatted against a house, whose occupants had already begun to flee, and before you could even blink the structure was swallowed up by the brown muck. 

“You just had to say that, didn’t you Princey?” Virgil asked with a roll of his eyes. 

Roman was about to tease back, but then his eyes widened and he grabbed Virgil and jumped away, just as another ball of goop landed where they were standing moments before.

“You got a plan?” Virgil grunted as he pushed himself to his feet. Roman stared up at the creature, who was preparing to hack up another projectile. 

“We can’t fight it when it’s in the air,” he began, then he and Virgil leapt away from each other as the sludge ball came hurtling towards them. “We need to draw it down somehow!” Roman shouted, and he saw Virgil nod. 

“Be ready!” the plumber called, and before Roman could ask why, Virgil took off running, heading straight for the garden wall of one of the nearby houses. 

In one fluid motion, he jumped and pulled himself up on top of the wall, then used the height from the wall to leap onto the roof of the house. Roman’s eyes went wide again as he saw Virgil run along the rooftop towards the plant, and he drew his sword, preparing to strike. Virgil flew into the air and crashed into the back of the piranha-plant’s head, sending the two of them careening down to the ground.

Roman dashed forward as soon as he had an opening, slashing with his sword. The monster let out a deafening screech as the sword sliced through its vines, but Roman had little time to celebrate. The creature hacked up another mass of sludge, and this time when it connected with the ground, a smaller piranha-plant sprouted up, spitting fireballs at him. Roman rolled away, but then Virgil’s thick soled boots connected with the plant, effectively squashing it. The two shared a quick glance, an unspoken “you okay?” flashing between them before the giant piranha-plant roared again and the two turned back towards the battle. 

They traded blows with the monster for what felt like ages, but the giant plant never seemed to tire, no matter how many fireballs Virgil lobbed at it or how many strikes Roman got in with his sword. The two of them, meanwhile, were running low on stamina. Virgil was down to his last few powerups, and Roman was finding it harder and harder to keep his sword raised.

“How much punishment can this thing take?” Virgil asked, panting as he dodged another swipe of the plant’s massive head.

The creature, when grounded, seemed to attack mostly by either spitting goop or just swinging it’s bulbous head around like a club, though it also could send a tornado of air careening towards its opponents with just a swipe of its leaves. The town square they were fighting in had been reduced to a battleground of toxic sludge and stone rubble, and it was becoming more and more difficult to maneuver away from the plant’s attacks. 

“Too much!” Roman growled, before letting out a gasp and ducking, narrowly avoiding the chunk of stone that had been flying towards his head, courtesy of another tornado. Suddenly, a new sound filled the air, distinct above his own heavy breathing and the grunts and snorts of their piranha-plant foe; a sound he was all too familiar with. 

It was the sound of an airship’s propellers. 

Virgil heard it too, and he cursed under his breath as the two looked up to see Bowceit’s ship hovering above them. 

“Are you still fighting him? How haven’t you won by now?” Bowceit sounded furious, and before either Roman or Virgil could work out what he meant, the piranha-plant tilted his head upwards and let out a frustrated roar. 

“Are you KIDDING me?” Bowceit cried. “That damn plumber, I-” 

“Of course,” Roman spat through gritted teeth as Bowceit continued to scream and shout. “I should have known this was one of his tricks.”

“Roman…” Virgil’s voice was tight, on edge, and when Roman turned to look at him he saw that his love’s eyes were growing wide with panic. Roman looked back towards the airship, which was lowering rope ladders crawling with Bowceit’s minions down towards them. Roman knew what Virgil was thinking, the same thought was flashing through his own mind, though he was trying hard to ignore it. 

There’s no way we can win this. 

Roman opened his mouth to give some empty reassurance, but before he could speak he heard Bowceit shout “aim for the plumber!” followed by the bang of the airship canons. 

“Virgil!” Roman cried desperately, running towards his boyfriend and raising his sword before he had time to really think. He swung at the incoming bullet bill, knocking it out of its path straight for Virgil’s head, but the force of the missile was stronger than he’d anticipated and he cried out, his sword falling to the ground as pain exploded up his shoulder. 

“Roman!” Virgil gasped, dropping to his side.

“I’m fine, Roman grunted, though truth be told, he was not fine. He’d been pushed down to one knee, and his weapon lay on the ground next to him, useless. 

“You’re not,” Virgil protested, then shook his head as he inspected Roman’s shoulder. “That was a pretty stupid move there, Princey.” 

“It’s fine,” Roman said again, but then Virgil cried out and pushed him to the ground as another bullet bill went over their heads. Roman hissed in pain, and Virgil gave him a pointed look.

 “Okay, okay,” he conceded, between gasps for breath. “Maybe it wasn’t the…best strategic move. But I had to protect you.” Virgil’s expression softened for a moment, then they both ducked again as yet another missile from Bowceit’s airship narrowly missed the huddled pair.

“We need to get out of here,” Virgil said, trying to help Roman stand up, but Roman waved him off.

“You need to get out of here. I’d only slow you down.” 

“Are you insane?” Virgil cried. “We have to stick together.” 

“Virgil,” Roman argued, a pained look in his eyes. “It’s me he’s after, not you. Please, just go.”

“I. Am not. Leaving you,” Virgil insisted, and he hauled the prince up to his feet. He wore a fierce, determined expression, and Roman found that he was too tired to protest any further.

They turned to run, but before they could move, the piranha-plant let out an ear-splitting roar, landing in front of them with an earth-shaking thud. The two were thrown back to the ground a few feet apart from each other, and when Roman looked up he found that he was almost directly in front of the monster. It twisted back, about to unleash one final attack, and Roman braced himself for the worst. 

But instead of a rush of air or a ball of sludge, he felt warm, familiar hands grasp his shoulders, and for one split second Virgil filled his entire field of vision. Then, he was practically lifted off the ground and thrown out of the way of their enemy’s attack. He landed, rather ungracefully, at the perfect angle to see the piranha-plant’s head whip around towards Virgil. 

Roman screamed, but it was all he could do as the blow that was meant for him sent his love flying backwards. Virgil landed hard against a pile of rubble, then went still, the tiniest trickle of blood coming from his hairline. 

“Virgil!” Roman screamed again, desperately scrambling to his feet. He started to run towards his fallen partner, but a growing heat behind him made him turn and he narrowly dodged a fireball from the advancing army of Bowceit’s minions. 

Roman glanced around him as he dodged a second attack, and he grimaced. His sword was too far away to reach, and with his already injured shoulder, fighting his way through the army of enemies would not be easy. Roman glanced behind him at Virgil’s motionless form, and something in his stomach steeled. He could keep fighting. He had to, because he didn’t have any other choice. He turned back towards the swarm of Bowceit’s minions and clenched his fists. 

He started to fight, but with every swing he felt his spirits diminish more and more. Ordinarily, this many enemies wouldn’t be a problem for him, but he was already exhausted, injured, and without any form of weapon. The only thing that kept him going was the thought of Virgil laying helpless behind him, but not even that was enough to keep him from being knocked down to his hands and knees after taking out only a few enemies. 

He started to push himself to stand again, but then Bowceit’s booming voice filled his ears. 

“I really wouldn’t do that if I were you, Prince Roman.” 

Roman laughed bitterly, wiping a trickle of blood away from his freshly split lip. 

“Oh?” he asked, as he staggered to his feet. “And why is that?” 

“See for yourself,” Bowceit crooned, and something in his tone made Roman look up. When he did, he cried out and stepped forward, but Bowceit lifted a finger and the Kamek Koopa that was levitating Virgil’s limp body made a motion with their wand as if to drop him off the airship. 

Roman froze, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, his eyes fixed on Virgil the entire time. 

“There’s a good little prince,” Bowceit chuckled. “I must say, I hadn’t expected him to be here with you. I’d rather counted on you coming to defeat old Petey Piranha by yourself, but I guess I should have known that your precious plumber wouldn’t let you go off to fight my big scary monster alone.” 

“I swear, Bowceit,” Roman growled, glaring up at his nemesis. “If you lay a finger on him…” 

“Oh, you won’t have to worry about that, my dear prince,” Bowceit said with a wicked grin. “He’ll be perfectly safe…if you cooperate.” 

Roman grit his teeth, wanting nothing more than to punch the stupid snake halfway to his castle, but even if he was strong enough to fight, he couldn’t risk Bowceit hurting Virgil. 

“Promise me,” he insisted, not wanting to give in until he ensured his love’s safety. 

“I promise,” Bowceit said, but Roman shook his head. 

“Swear to me that he won’t be harmed. Swear it on your children.” 

Bowceit sighed, rolling his eyes, but he agreed.

“I swear on my children, that if you come quietly and do as you’re told, I won’t hurt your precious little plumber.” 

Roman took a deep breath, then nodded, raising his hands in surrender. Bowceit’s minions wasted no time in swarming him, forcing his hands behind his back and wrapping ropes around his wrists before dragging him up the ladder to Bowceit’s airship. Roman kept his eyes glued on Virgil the entire time. Kamek Koopa had finally lowered him back onto the ship deck, but he was still unconscious, and a nasty lump had begun to form where he’d hit his head protecting Roman from Petey Piranha’s attack. 

He couldn’t help the tears that formed in the corners of his eyes at the sight of Virgil lying still and helpless before him. 

“Aw, don’t cry, my little prince,” Bowceit cooed, and Roman tore his gaze away from Virgil to glare at the snake. “After all, there shouldn’t be tears on one’s wedding day.”

———

Virgil woke up to the sound of raised voices and jostling bodies. His head was throbbing in time with his heartbeat, sending waves of pain across his entire body. He felt something cold and metal press up against him, and he opened his eyes just in time to see a cage door slam in his face.

“-won’t be able to breathe!” the voice shouting cried, and with a start Virgil realized it was Roman speaking, a desperate edge to his tone. “Please, you can’t, you promised you wouldn’t hurt him!” 

Virgil tried to reach for Roman’s voice, peering through the bars of his prison,  but the cage he’d been squeezed inside was so tiny he could barely move. When he shifted his weight, he felt the whole thing sway, as though it was suspended from the ceiling, and he froze.

“Roman?” he called, hating how small and helpless his voice sounded, and through the thick bars of the cage he managed to see his prince arguing with Bowceit, gesturing as emphatically as he could with his wrists tied in front of him.

“Virgil!” Roman gasped, and he moved forward, but Bowceit raised his hand and the floor underneath Virgil’s cage slid away to reveal a pit of lava. Roman froze, his eyes flicking back and forth between Virgil and the lava. 

“I promised not to hurt him,” Bowceit agreed, his voice unusuallylow and threatening, “as long as you come quietly and do as you’re told. And right now you’re dangerously close to breaking your end of the bargain.”

Roman stared desperately at Virgil, and even as panic due to his tight surroundings threatened to overtake his senses, Virgil felt a stab of anger towards Bowceit. Was no blow too low for him to take? Apparently not, as Bowceit snapped his fingers and the cage suddenly rose further into the air. Virgil yelped, his heart pounding in his chest, and he saw Roman’s eyes widen, his neck craning up in a frantic attempt to keep Virgil in his sights.

“Now, I think that puts a finishing touch on our wedding decorations, don’t you?” Bowceit asked sweetly, and Roman could only nod helplessly while Bowceit chuckled to himself.

In for four. Hold for seven. Out for eight. Just breathe, Virgil, come on, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut and wrapping his arms around himself. 

“Now that the chapel’s done, I say it’s time you got into your wedding suit, darling,” Bowceit declared, and with another snap of his fingers, the koopas dragged Roman out of the room to be changed for the ceremony. 

Virgil peeked out from under his arms to make sure he was alone, then reached into his pocket where he’d felt something squish when he’d been pushed into the cage. It was difficult to maneuver in the small space, but after a moment he managed to pull it out and examine it. 

One fire flower that had yet to be used from their battle with Petey Piranha. 

Virgil clenched the powerup in his fists, gritted his teeth, and waited. 

———

Roman tried his best to keep his head held high as he was dragged down the aisle of the wedding chapel. Even if he was being forced to do this, it didn’t have to actually mean anything. He’d never let the snake break him down completely. He could sit through whatever hell Bowceit put him through if it meant keeping Virgil safe. He glanced up at the cage hanging from the ceiling. Virgil was sitting very still, watching the wedding processional with those large brown eyes that Roman could lose himself for hours in. 

Their gazes met, and Roman forced a smile. He could do this. He could be brave, if not for himself, then for Virgil. The koopa pulling him along gave a harsh tug to the rope wrapped around his wrists and he stumbled, turning his attention back the ground…and what was waiting for him at the end of the aisle. He glared as he was positioned carefully in front of the alter. The koopa took a moment to make sure he was in just the right spot, then bent down and tied his ankles together, nodding to Bowceit when he was finished.

“You never leave anything up to chance, do you?” Roman grumbled, knowing that he was standing on a trapdoor that would send him down into Bowceit’s dungeons at the pull of a lever. 

“I’ve taken care of one nuisance already,” Bowceit replied, gesturing at Virgil above the lava pit. “But the other one is still out there. It never hurts to be prepared for yet another half-baked rescue attempt.”

“Virgil is not a nuisance,” Roman growled, leaning forward. “He’s smart and strong and brave and kind and wonderful. He’s sharper than a sword and more dazzling than the stars and he is ten times the man that you will ever be.” 

“Yes,” Bowceit growled, leaning forward as well until the two were nose to nose. He let his hand hover above the lever that Roman knew would send Virgil’s cage plummeting into the lava.“And if you wish for him to remain that way, you will read your vows.”

Roman glared at his captor, but then he glanced up at Virgil and he sighed. 

“I, Prince Roman of Sarasaland, do hereby take King Bowceit to be my lawfully wedded husband.” 

———

“I, Prince Roman of Sarasaland-”

Now. 

“- do hereby take King Bowceit-”

All of Bowceit’s attention was focused on Roman, who had begun reciting the wedding vows. 

“-to be my lawfully wedded husband.”

It was time. 

“To have and to hold-”

Virgil opened his palm, and let his body absorb the power of the fire flower he had hidden there. He wrapped his right hand around one of the bars on his cage, then stuck his left out as far as it would go. He only would have one shot with the element of surprise on his side, so he had to make it count. 

“-to…to love and to cherish-” 

Not if I have anything to say about it, bitch, Virgil thought, and he took aim. 

“-in sickness and in health-” 

Virgil fired off two shots in rapid succession. 

Roman yelped in surprise as two fireballs flew down, striking him at his wrists and ankles. The force sent him tumbling backwards, but he caught himself as the fire burned through his ropes, leaving his hands free. 

“WHAAAT?” Bowceit roared, and he spun around to see Virgil shoot off three more fireballs, two at the koopas who were rushing forward to try and grab Roman and one at Bowceit himself. “YOU PATHETIC LITTLE PLUMBER!” Bowceit roared as he dodged Virgil’s attack, and his hand flew to the release lever for his cage. “YOU HAVE DISRUPTED MY PLANS FOR THE LAST TIME!” 

“VIRGIL!” Roman screamed, rushing forward, but it was too late. 

Bowceit pulled the lever, plunging Virgil down to a fiery death. 

In theory. 

In Virgil’s time alone, he’d examined his cage as much as possible, and discovered that the floor was designed to drop away beneath him, presumably to send him to his death if Roman misbehaved. But the cage itself was anchored by a chain to a pulley system, probably so that Bowceit wouldn’t have to build a new delivery mechanism every time he felt the need to dramatically execute somebody.

While Bowceit shouted, Virgil reached up with his left hand and grabbed onto the bar that he still held in his right. When the lever was pulled and the floor dropped from under him, he was left hanging from the cage bars like a trapeze artist. 

Like a very pissed off trapeze artist. 

Virgil started swinging back and forth, building up momentum and firing a few more fireballs down towards Bowceit for good measure, though at this point Roman had the koopa king engaged in hand to hand combat that, despite Roman’s recent battle fatigue, he seemed to be winning by sheer force of will alone. 

Once Virgil had built up enough momentum, he let go of the cage at the peak of its arc, sailing over the lava pit below him and landing directly behind Bowceit. Before the snake even had time to turn around, Virgil grabbed him by the tail and spun him around, slamming him into the altar with a satisfying *thud*. 

“Virgil!” Roman cried again, but this time, it was with joy. The two rushed towards each other, practically flying into each others arms. Roman buried his face in Virgil’s neck, and suddenly he found whatever strength he had left was drained away in his relief. 

“Oh, my poor Stormcloud,” he gasped, tears pricking at the back of his eyes. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” 

“I’m fine, Roman,” Virgil laughed, but the sound was strained, and Roman knew Virgil was just as relived as he was. “Are you…”

“I’m okay,” Roman answered, and he pressed a kiss to Virgil’s neck. “I’m okay, thanks to you, Stormcloud.” 

Virgil let out a shuddered sigh, and Roman rocked the two of them back and forth, giving them a moment to take comfort in each other. 

After a moment, Virgil drew back, and took Roman’s hands in his, carefully examining them. 

“Are your wrists-” 

“They’ll be alright,” Roman laughed, examining the slight burns on his wrist. “Though next time, maybe come up with a rescue plan that doesn’t involve shooting me with a fireflower?” 

“You’re one to talk, Mr. I’m-going-to-treat-this-bullet-bill-like-a-baseball-and-my sword-like-a-bat,” Virgil said, swatting Roman’s shoulder playfully. 

“That was deflecting an enemy projectile!” Roman insisted. “You shot me yourself.” 

Virgil laughed, and Roman’s heart was suddenly full to bursting with just how much he loved this boy. 

“Okay,” Virgil said, smirking. “Maybe it wasn’t the best strategic move.” 

Roman made an offended sound, and Virgil laughed again, but he suddenly took both of Roman’s hands in his, staring into his eyes. 

“But…I had to protect you,” he whispered, and Roman’s heart became, if possible, even fuller. 

“Thank you, my knight,” he said, leaning his forehead against Virgil’s. Virgil blushed.

“You’re welcome, my prince.” 

The two leaned closer, but before they could close the space between them, the doors to the chapel behind them burst open. 

“LISTEN HERE, YOU SNAKE-FACED BITCH-” Logan stopped dead in his tracks when he realized that Bowceit was out cold on the floor and that Roman and Virgil were standing in the middle of the room, unharmed. “Oh.” 

“Logan!” Virgil cried in delight,and Logan wasted no time in pulling his little brother into a hug.

“You’re alright,” Logan sighed, clearly relieved. “I was worried I wouldn’t make it to you in time.” 

“If it weren’t for Virgil here, you wouldn’t have,” Roman admitted. Now that the whole ordeal was over, he realized that he had come frighteningly close to actually marrying Bowceit. He shuddered, and Logan nodded sympathetically. 

“Well, I must admit that I am pleased to find that my rescuing services were, for once, not needed.” He gestured to the door. “I suggest we go, Patton will likely turn half his palace into a bakery if we do not return soon.”

Virgil laughed, and slid his hand into Roman’s as the three of them began walking back towards home. 

“I wouldn’t mind, honestly. Patton’s sweets are the best.” 

“Indeed they are,” Roman agreed.��“Though I must admit I do feel bad knowing that he’s baking them because he’s worried about us.” 

“Extremely worried,” Logan agreed. “He had half a mind to come with me, but I insisted that he stayed behind for his own safety.” 

“There, you see Virgil!” Roman exclaimed. “Patton listens when his boyfriend tells him to stay home and be safe. And his boyfriend isn’t even a prince! No offense, Logan,” he hastily added, but Logan just rolled his eyes. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t listen,” Virgil fired right back. “Or you’d find yourself married to Bowceit right about now, or worse.” 

“Which you wouldn’t have even been able to stop if you’d gotten killed by that bullet bill!” Roman insisted. “Or if I hadn’t agreed to marry him in the first place, you wouldn’t have been able to stop the wedding, because Bowceit would have thrown you off his airship!” 

Virgil was quiet for a moment, and Roman shook his head, trying to clear it of the memory of Virgil unconscious, lying limp and helpless to Bowceit’s whim. 

“Well then,” Virgil said, his voice soft. “It’s a good thing that I have such a lovely, brave, wonderful prince to protect me.” 

Roman smiled, and took Virgil’s other hand, turning so they were facing each other. 

“And I wouldn’t be such a brave and wonderful prince without my dark and stormy knight to protect me.” 

Virgil smiled too, and leaned up, gazing into Roman’s eyes. 

“I guess we’ll just have to protect each other then.” 

Roman leaned down and finally closed the gap between them, pressing their lips together in a long, sweet kiss. 

“I guess we will.” 

———

A/N: Oooooh, this got looong, but I really love it! I love me some good old fashioned prinxiety, and to me, one of the beautiful things about this ship is how both of them are such protective personalities, which especially is showcased in this AU, where Virgil is a hero who rescues the princes all the time, but Roman is very much a “fend for himself,” capable type of person who often doesn’t need rescuing unless a situation is drastic or unique. Very often in this AU, Roman only will back down from a fight if he has no other choice, and he NEVER likes doing it, so I really enjoyed putting him in that situation here, as well as putting Virgil in a situation where he could show his resourcefulness, while also still showing that he’s still very affected by things like Bowceit forcing him into a cramped space that heightens his anxiety. I just…I have a lot of feelings about @sugarglider9603‘s AU, alright? XD

To read more of my work in the Mario AU, check out my Sanders Sides AU Masterlist. To read more of my work in general, check out my full Fic Masterlist

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[ladyoutlier]

Halo Beautiful

[Read on AO3] | [Week 1]

Week 2: Aziraphale is missing his halo. Gets Crowley to help him look for it. Demon goes on a mad search but comes up empty. When he returns, Aziraphale presents him with a new ring that was once his halo.

It was inventory day at Aziraphale’s bookshop. A day which the angel very much dreaded for it was the day he had to face the list of books he had begrudgingly allowed pass out of his door. It could put him in a very sour mood if he let it, and when he was alone with his records, it was a very easy trap to slip into. 

For this reason and this reason alone, he invited the demon he had teamed up with to prevent the End Times over as company. Despite the rather dreariness associated with the task, Crowley was quick to agree to join him. Although maybe that shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise. Crowley wasn’t one to put up much of a fight when it came to spending time with Aziraphale.

As such, he strode into the shop just as the sun began to breach the horizon on one lazy Sunday morn. Not many people were out. Those unfortunate enough to work on the weekends that were headed out for the day. Drunks on their way home after a long night of partying. It was the hours of scaddatling. Hurrying somewhere as to not be caught out at this time. Appropriately, Crowley took leisure with his step. He liked to swim against the current.

“Morning, angel. Another glorious day where the world wasn’t reduced to rubble overnight,” he said as he met Aziraphale inside.

“I just might wish it was by the end of all this,” Aziraphale replied with a rather sour look on his face.

“Should leave the gloom and doom to me. Doesn’t really suit you.”

“It’s these days that really make me wonder why I run a bookshop.”

“Beats me. Probably should run a museum. Monkeys see but can’t touch.”

“Oh but books are meant to be read.”

“You say that and then use every tool at your disposal to scare away sales.”

“No one has any care for things nowadays,” Aziraphale began as he straightened up a pile of books. “Just toss around priceless collections of information like they’re playthings.”

As the stack became slightly more tidy, the angel swept his hands clean, and led Crowley to the room in which he kept all his records. Paper was a common sight in a bookstore, but this room seemed to have more pages than all of the books out in the store front combined. Generations of running a shop resulted in quite a bit of paperwork. An amount which rivaled that of Heaven’s and Hell’s combined.

“Are there even book museums?” Crowley wondered more to himself than anything as Aziraphale searched for his ledger. “There must be, right? But I haven’t seen one. Not the type of thing you just pass by while walking down the street.”

Aziraphale let out an exasperated breath as he pulled the ledger from a shelf. Despite his numerous miracles to keep the shop dust free, a significant amount of the stuff poofed out as he set the book of records down. He ran his hand down his face. The angel suddenly looked a lot more tired as if, perhaps, he was exaggerating for dramatic effect.

“This might just be the longest day there ever was, and it’s only just begun,” he said, collapsing into a seat.

To see Aziraphale in such a funk was quite irregular even for a day such as this. The angel never liked to see how many books he had sold, but he typically was more sad about the sales than horribly irritated. Irritation wasn’t a thing Aziraphale often showed. He wasn’t one to have a short fuse.

“You feeling all there today?” Crowley asked, having picked up on those details. “You just don’t seem as bright as normal. Er, not bright as in smarts. As in your natural glow is a bit on the dim side.”

Aziraphale brushed off the cover of the ledger, and the dust from it disappeared out of existence. He took a short breath, closed his eyes, and turned to Crowley.

“Ah, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice that, dear. Really foolish of me considering that you’ve got quite the eye for details. You see, I’ve seemed to have misplaced my halo. It’s not the best way to start the day off I must admit.”

“Not like those Frisbee disks hold much purpose other than working as team jerseys. And even with that, wing color’s got them beat. Easier to tell an angel from a demon by looking at the color of their feathers rather than trying to spot a halo.” Crowley shrugged, and then, noticing Aziraphale’s still stoic demeanor, continued on a bit more seriously. “It’s got to be around here somewhere. Plenty of nooks and crannies for it have gotten into. With all your clutter, this place is a lost and found paradise. Might take half a decade, but we’ll find it.”

Aziraphale’s eyes brightened and a smile grew on his face. His little pouty fit had swayed Crowley once again to lend him a hand. “Oh, so you will help me look for it?”

“Sure. Better than watching you manage finances all day. Er. Where’d you see it last?”

“On top my head.”

“Well, that doesn’t really help, does it?”

“I’m certain it is somewhere within these walls. I only ever physically manifest my halo as an, um, improvised reading light.”

“Course you do. A reading light. Yep.”

“It’s much more convenient than using a miracle. Specifically because, until recently, to use one for reading purposes would have been far too frivolous of behavior. Upstairs wouldn’t send me a disciplinary letter for using my halo.”

“Can’t relate. Don’t have a halo, and Downstairs was never that strict on anything like that. Selfishness is an inherently demonic quality. Encouraged frivolous behavior if anything.”

“What did happen to your halo, Crowley?”

“Shattered,” the demon replied rather emotionless. “Now, where do you want me to start looking? Not going to find anything just talking.”

“Oh, um, yes very well. I’ve searched most of this room before you arrived. Yesterday, I was looking through some boxes I received back in 1993 from Sri Lanka. Perhaps, that would be a good place for you to start while I finish here. Towards the back of the shop.”

“Yeah. Sure. On it.”

With that, Crowley turned and left Aziraphale. He had thought search for your halo had meant search for your halo together, but apparently that’s not what Aziraphale had intended. He, seemingly, was more set on the split-up-and-search-for-clues method. Whatever. It didn’t matter.

It mattered so little that his walk wasn’t at all the tad bit huffy as he found his way into the depths of the store. Aziraphale’s shop had a strange quality to it. Particularly, it seemed to be much larger on the inside than the outside would suggest. This, of course, wasn’t something Crowley, of all people, was that unfamiliar with. Still, the towers of books became a bit like a labyrinth this far in.

The demon, in his grumpy state of mind, didn’t focus on any of this. Rather, he made note of how Aziraphale owned far too many candles for someone with so much flammable material lying around. The bookshop’s fiery demise during the End of the World was likely long overdue. He’d have to introduce the angel to those quaint, little LED ones. No real flame. No real fire hazard. And the best part, no more worries keeping him up at night. Although he didn’t need to sleep, it was a real bother not being able to get some shut eye in when he wanted.

A stack of wooden crates beside a droopy leather couch dictated that he had arrived at his destination. Stray bits of straw packing material littered the floor. Despite it obviously being a mess, it was a mess in the most tidy way possible. Really, that description could be applied to all of Aziraphale’s shop. Crowley rolled up his sleeves and plunged his hands into the open crates.

Why was he even doing this? The answer was clear. It was for Aziraphale of course. But he was in the mood to complain. Maybe all this wood fluff wouldn’t show on Aziraphale’s clothes with them being roughly the same color, but for his more nightly palette, he’d be brushing himself off for the next century and still be finding the odd straw particle. 

And what if he did find the angel’s halo? The thing would probably sear his hand clean off. Nothing more holy than a halo. Consecrated ground had nothing on one of those glowy rings. 

Although, the more he thought about it, he couldn’t remember a single time he heard about a demon getting a hold of a halo. Not really something that happened. Minus him and Aziraphale, angels and demons never really were in that close of proximity to each other, so a demon taking an angel’s halo, as far as he knew, had never actually happened before. So what would happen if he found it? He actually had no idea. Aziraphale, at least, hadn’t seemed that worried about it.

He could hardly even remember how halos worked. Did they still glow when apart from their angel? If so, he was wasting his time looking through these crates. The light shining from it would’ve lit up the whole box. Then again, if they did continue to glow, he could hardly imagine how Aziraphale had lost it in the first place. A literal doughnut made of light was hard to misplace.

He moved aside one box, having inspected it for the missing halo, and moved on to the couch. There were more crates, but with how much muck had gotten on him from the first one, he wasn’t excited to get to the rest. Even a miracle likely wouldn’t remove all the fibers from his clothes. Life just had those little irritations that never really ever fully went away. He would know. He invented a lot of them.

He tore the cushions off the couch and threw them to the side. If he had done this in the typical person’s home, Crowley would likely find objects such as coins, hair clips, tele remotes, and food crumbs scattered amongst the exposed surface. However, this was not any ordinary person’s home, and all he found was a spare bookmark with a lovely golden tassel attached to one end.

He sneered as he picked the bookmark up and set it on a nearby end table. That was about the only place a halo could be hidden in a couch. He tossed the cushions back on. It looked much more disheveled than when he began, but he didn’t really care. He dropped to his knees and cranked his head to look below the aged piece of furniture.

The distinct sound of approaching footsteps became audible just as Crowley was about shoulders-deep underneath the couch. He pulled himself out and swivels around to see Aziraphale, who was looking rather uneasy himself. The angel opened his mouth for a moment, furrowed his brow, and then shut his jaw again. His eyes glanced around as if he was plucking the correct words from the air. Crowley pulled himself up and took a few curious steps towards Aziraphale.

“Something on you mind?” he asked, throwing his weight to his back leg.

“Ah, yes quite a lot actually. Would you—that is could you—oh how do I word this?”

“You’re the one that’s read every version of the dictionary twice over for fun. You tell me.”

Aziraphale took a breath and held it for a moment, allowing time to just stagger still for the minute. He took one step closer to the demon as he released the breath.

“Let’s put it this way. I’ve just had the strangest idea for where my halo might be.”

“And where’s that?” Crowley lifted an eyebrow.

Aziraphale smiled and nervously lifted his hand. He slowly raised it to Crowley’s face and then past it to his ear. Crowley followed the angel’s movement with his eyes, but the rest of his expression remained quite frozen in place.

Neither of them moved for a second, instead looking at one another in hopes to gain something from each other’s eyes that they didn’t already know. Aziraphale pulled his hand away, and in a quick shuffle of his fingers, displayed a glowing white ring that didn’t look unlike a wedding band.

“It seems,” Aziraphale began rather flustered. “That it was behind your ear the whole time.”

“Was this whole thing a trap to practice one of your magic tricks?”

“Not—not exactly. Crowley, I’d actually quite like for you to hold onto it. Since you don’t have your own halo, you can wear mine. It would mean a lot to me.” He placed the ring-sized halo into the demon’s palm. “Not sure you could wear it over your head. I didn’t think that was much your style anyways, so I made it a bit smaller. So you can, um, wear it on a finger.”

Crowley stared at the halo in his hand. It didn’t burn like he feared it would. Rather it produced a very comfortable warmth. A warmth that reeked of Aziraphale in the best possible way. He didn’t deserve this. Something so absolutely precious to an angel. He didn’t deserve to hold onto it.

“Why?” he replied. “You’ve only got one of these things. Why would you want me holding on to it?”

“Well, they are just silly Frisbee disks as you called them.” Aziraphale did a little shake of his head. “You mean an awful lot to me, dear, and I figured this was an appropriate way to tell you the lengths of that.”

“Hope you didn’t expect me to get you anything.”

“Your company is more than enough. You’ll keep it then? For me?”

“Yeah, course. I mean, yes absolutely. Wow. Wasn’t expecting this today.”

Aziraphale took the halo and slipped it onto Crowley’s finger. A finger that was appropriately named for wearing jewelry, and also a finger that typically only one type of ring is ever worn on. As he let go of the demon’s hand, the ring halo continued to glow but much more dimly. Dim enough that the odd passerby wouldn’t even notice that there was anything extraordinary about it.

“It looks wonderful on you, dear.”

“So I take it you don’t have any finances to do today then.”

“I thought that would’ve been the giveaway. I haven’t sold a book in fifty years.”

Crowley looked up from his hand to Aziraphale. His face relaxed back into a wide grin. “Of course you haven’t. Really you should go with the museum idea. Would save you a lot of trouble.”

“And forgo all of the tactics I’ve learned to keep away sales? I’d think not!”

They both laughed at that. Something important had happened, but things were not all that different because of it. Perhaps, they were now closer than ever. Specifically, physically at this time, and Aziraphale seemed to notice that as his laugh trailed off and he caught himself watching Crowley continue his.

 There was nothing he could imagine rather doing in this moment. This was one of those fragments of time that would engrain itself as a long-lasting memory. As if impulsed from that, Aziraphale pulled Crowley into a hug. The demon stopped laughing and became rigid, but he soon relaxed and melted into Aziraphale’s embrace, wrapping his arms around the angel as well.

The rest of the bookshop was a still silence. Candles that really shouldn’t have been there continued to burn. Sunlight poured in a bit more from the windows. And in the center of it all: an angel and a demon whose identities had become a bit more muddled into one another's.

***

This work was a part of my discord Weeklies event. If you’d like to learn more, click here.