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wangxiangiftexchange · 4 years

Text

Winter Solstice Gift for xzstudios

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: None

Summary: Wei Wuxian, a covert intelligence agent of Yunmeng Jiang, is slated to marry His Highness Lan Wangji, the Second Prince of the Empire. Unfortunately, he’s caught feelings for the Mysterious Beautiful Assassin Man who has started accompanying him on missions.

Hope you like this, @xzstudios!!! Thank you so much for the prompt!

Read on AO3

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Spies in Disguise

Wei Wuxian's new and improved teleportation talisman drops him onto a very nice light fixture in Wen Ruohan's war room. It’s very red, very gold and very pointy. It is currently digging into his thighs and catching on his burgundy tunic. He hisses as quietly as he can—he doesn’t want to blow his cover right at the start of this mission—and tries to shift his legs off the pointy bits without making a noise.

The fixture wobbles, and the chain attaching it to the ceiling creaks loud enough to rival Jiang Cheng’s shouting.

Well, shit, Wei Wuxian thinks. He unsheathes his sword and jumps onto it. He floats to the floor, careful not to make a sound. Then he turns around, pulling a talisman out of his pocket to freeze the talisman so it stops making noise—

The fixture stops moving. Someone is holding onto it with one black-gloved hand. Their whole body is swathed in black fabric, save for a dark braid and two golden eyes glaring at Wei Wuxian.

With that getup, he is probably not a Wen soldier. “Um,” Wei Wuxian whispers. “Nice to meet you?”

The person’s eyes narrow. “Leave.”

“No, no!” Wei Wuxian leans closer to the man and favors him with his most charming smile. “I’m a spy too! We can work together, gather intel more efficiently!”

“Not necessary,” the man says. His voice is very deep. Wei Wuxian wouldn’t mind listening to it some more.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get the chance, because at that moment seven Wen soldiers storm into the room.

Wei Wuxian grabs his three remaining freezing talismans and hurls them at the soldiers. Two of them hit their targets, paralyzing one Wen soldier mid-yell and another as he is unsheathing his sword. The third Wen soldier drops into a crouch, and the talisman sails over her head. Wei Wuxian lifts his sword to block, but she’s fast. Moonlight glints off her blade as she thrusts at Wei Wuxian’s stomach. Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and prays that his death will be swift.

Nothing happens.

He opens his eyes. The Wen soldier is kneeling in front of him, blood oozing out of her mouth. The tip of a sword protrudes from the center of her chest. The man in black is looming over her, and Wei Wuxian realizes that it is his sword that has impaled the Wen soldier.

He pulls it out. The Wen soldier crumples to the ground. Wei Wuxian looks around. The other Wen soldiers lie on the floor, their blood dying the smooth wooden slats a dark red.

“Wow,” Wei Wuxian says. “You work fast, huh?”

“Mm,” the man says. He bends down to inspect one of Wei Wuxian’s freezing talismans. “You made this?”

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian says. He presses two copying talismans onto the map in the center of the war room. After a few seconds, they spark at the corners—proof that the copying is complete. He stuffs them into his belt and heads for the window.

“Come on!” he says to the other spy. “There’ll be more soldiers soon!”

The man blinks, then nods. He follows Wei Wuxian into the night.

“Here,” Wei Wuxian says, handing him one of the copying talismans. “If you channel spiritual energy into this, you’ll get a copy of Wen Ruohan’s battle plans.”

“Thank you,” the man says. His dark hair shines in the moonlight.

“It’s nothing,” Wei Wuxian says. “You saved my life after all.”

The corners of the man’s eyes crinkle. He unsheathes his sword, sets his feet onto the blade and flies away. Wei Wuxian sighs and does the same. He hopes these battle plans are good enough for Madam Yu.

—

Wei Wuxian continues to run into the man in black (who Wei Wuxian likes to call Mysterious Beautiful Assassin Man in the privacy of his thoughts) as the war progresses. They make a good team. Wei Wuxian’s quick thinking and array of talismans complements Mysterious Beautiful Assassin Man’s fearsome cultivation and whisper-quiet movements. Both of them have saved each other’s lives more times than they can count. Once, Wei Wuxian blacked out from blood loss and came to with his cheek pillowed on Mysterious Beautiful Assassin Man’s thigh. Mysterious Beautiful Assassin Man was sewing stitches into his side with a determined-looking glint in his eyes. When he finished, he carded his fingers through Wei Wuxian’s hair and sang to him until Wei Wuxian fell asleep again.

Sometimes Wei Wuxian drags him to a restaurant in Yiling that never closes and never asks questions about their attire. Mysterious Beautiful Assassin Man tucks his face covering around his ears so that it covers his nose but not his mouth, and they eat congee while the sun rises.

Once, Wei Wuxian convinces Mysterious Beautiful Assassin Man to try it with his favorite extra-spicy chili oil. Without hesitation, Mysterious Beautiful Assassin Man mixes a spoonful into his congee.

“Wow!” Wei Wuxian says. “I didn’t think you would actually try it!”

“Of course I would try it,” Mysterious Beautiful Assassin Man says. “I would gladly try anything Yuandao recommends.”

Wei Wuxian can feel a flush crawling up his cheekbones. The name Wei Wuxian used when he was undercover sounded so nice in Mysterious Beautiful Assassin Man’s voice.

“Don’t say things like that without warning me!” he says.

Mysterious Beautiful Assassin Man ignores him and puts a spoonful of congee into his mouth. His ears, which were a rosy pink, darken to the red of wine. Wei Wuxian can’t help but smile at the sight.

Oh, Wei Wuxian thinks. Oh, I like this man.

—

Over the course of the next few months, Wei Wuxian makes some Plans.

He has a Plan to determine exactly how Wen Ruohan is expanding his army, even after the other sects have killed enough soldiers to fill Nightless City to its brim. He has a Plan to learn how to channel spiritual energy through music, in the style of the royal family’s legendary ancestors. Last but certainly not least, he has a Plan to worm his way into Mysterious Beautiful Assassin Man’s heart.

His adoptive parents are doing their very best to blow this Plan to smithereens.

“There are two potential matches with reasonable compatibility,” the astrologer says, “and one that is truly spectacular.” He leans a little closer to Wei Wuxian, his eyes sparkling with a troubling smugness. “Young Master Wei’s horoscope is almost perfectly aligned with His Highness Prince Wangji.”

Jiang Fengmian smiles. Madam Yu’s grip on her teacup tightens. Wei Wuxian tries very, very hard not to grimace.

This was not how this meeting was supposed to go. The astrologer was supposed to trot out two possible names, each with moderate compatibility and a terrible reputation. Madam Yu was supposed to reject both with extreme prejudice, giving Wei Wuxian another two years at least to do what he did best and woo Mysterious Beautiful Assassin Man without the shackles of marriage holding him back. He had even bribed the astrologer with a fistful of rubies and a sachet of purple dye.

Wei Wuxian shoots the astrologer a glare. A smile slithers over the astrologer’s face and he strokes his chin, his fingers glittering with rings that bore very familiar rubies.

Well, time for damage control.

“Surely this lowly one lacks the pedigree to be wed to the illustrious Light-Bearing Lord,” Wei Wuxian says.

“Nonsense,” Madam Yu says. “You are the only child of Cangse Sanren. Pedigree is no issue.”

Wei Wuxian stares at her. Madam Yu, of all people, defending him ? He pinches himself hard, then winces. He isn’t dreaming.

“A marriage to the Crown Prince would be an invaluable asset, especially during wartime,” Madam Yu says. Oh, Wei Wuxian thinks. This makes sense now. “It would be foolish not to pursue it.”

“There will be a party,” Jiang Fengmian says. He favors Wei Wuxian with an indulgent look, like Wei Wuxian is a spoiled child who needs to be bribed.

“Well,” Wei Wuxian says, his lips numb. “I do like a good party.”

—

As far as Wei Wuxian can tell, he’s only getting out of this marriage if he could find sufficient dirt on Prince Wangji. He combs through all of Yunmeng Jiang’s intel on the royal family, but comes up short. According to every scrap of information they have on him, the Light-Bearing Lord lives up to his name.

Wei Wuxian needs to think outside the box. He starts by sidling up to Jiang Cheng while he’s supervising swordfighting practice for the youngest disciples.

“Hey, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says. “What do you think of the Crown Prince?”

“What?” Jiang Cheng frowns. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Wei Wuxian scrunches his nose. “You’re always busy.”

Jiang Cheng bends down and adjusts a disciple’s grip on their sword. “So are you.” He peers at Wei Wuxian, the orchids embroidered on his robes glittering in the afternoon sun. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

“I’m just curious, Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian pouts. “I’ve never even met my betrothed and you’ve met him at war councils and things! Tell me what he’s like, please?”

“Ugh, fine,” Jiang Cheng says. “He fights like a demon, but he’s a frigid bastard. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say more than five words at once.”

“Is he rude when he talks, though?” Wei Wuxian asks. “Does he treat others well?”

“How should I know? The only person he willingly spends time with is his brother.” Jiang Cheng grabs a wooden practice sword. “Now leave me alone. I need to demonstrate some stances.”

Wei Wuxian nods and makes himself scarce.

He’s tried combing through existing records and getting first hand information. The only other option he can think of is going through Prince Wangji’s things and looking for anything incriminating there.

Well, Wei Wuxian thinks, compared to Qishan Wen, breaking into the royal palace will probably be a piece of cake.

—

Wei Wuxian teleports into the Crown Prince’s bedroom and immediately hits his knee on a table. He bites back a curse and staggers, steadying himself against the wall. While he’s getting his bearings, Wei Wuxian scans the room. It is remarkably tidy—Wei Wuxian’s own room resembles a rat’s nest on a good day—which means Wei Wuxian will have to be careful not to disturb anything as he looks around.

The Second Prince’s room contains no untoward books, no bottles of wine. Everything in the room is elegant and understated, from the tea set adorned with blossoming gentians to the empty bed’s folded sheets. It looks like the room of a cultivator twice the Second Prince’s age.

Wei Wuxian searches the room for any hidden compartments, wondering where the Second Prince could be. The royal family’s famous three thousand precepts supposedly included going to bed by nine, and it was well past midnight.

A sudden hollow noise draws him out of his thoughts. He kneels and inspects the floorboard that the noise had come from. When he pries it open, he finds a white ribbon with silver filigree in its center. He grabs the ribbon and holds it up to a shaft of moonlight. There seems to be a cloud pattern embroidered into the ribbon. He squints at it and brings it closer to his face to get a better look.

The sound of footsteps reverberates through the floorboards. Wei Wuxian hears the door to the Crown Prince’s room creak. He drops the ribbon and slaps another transportation talisman onto his chest. As he disappears he catches a glimpse of long dark hair, a flash of something golden, and the glint of steel.

—

A couple weeks later, Wei Wuxian’s procrastinating on his Prove the Crown Prince is a Degenerate Plan (which remains wildly unsuccessful) by making experimental shrinking talismans when some Yunmeng Jiang disciples walk past his quarters.

“Did you hear?” one of the younger disciples asks. “They’re tightening the security for the wedding! Someone snuck into the royal palace!”

Another disciples murmurs something that Wei Wuxian can’t make out.

“Yeah,” the first disciple says, “I heard only members of the royal family can touch that ribbon! And they found it on the floor!”

Oops, Wei Wuxian thinks.

—

The day of Wei Wuxian’s wedding arrives without any further progress on the Prove the Crown Prince is a Degenerate Plan. The Get Into Mysterious Beautiful Assassin Man’s Pants Plan has also stalled—Wei Wuxian hasn’t seen him in months.

He sighs and adjusts his veil. Embroidered gold phoenixes dance over black lotuses on his vermillion wedding robes. Jewels the color of twilight drip from his ears, and a gold chain studded with starlike diamonds loops around his throat. They are meant to be proof that Yunmeng Jiang’s coffers are full, even in the depths of wartime.

Jiang Cheng leads him to his wedding palanquin, which is swathed in red silk and festooned with clarity bells so that the cultivators carrying the palanquin would know if there were spirits nearby. Wei Wuxian moves some silk to the side and steps in. Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian are already in the palanquin, dressed in robes of deep violet and gold. Wei Wuxian sits on the cushion furthest from Madam Yu, who has already started glaring at him. After a few minutes, Jiang Cheng enters and takes the cushion next to Wei Wuxian.

The palanquin shudders and takes to the air. Wei Wuxian savors the feeling of weightlessness. For some reason, he never feels this way when he’s flying on his own sword.

“Behave yourself,” Madam Yu says. “We cannot afford to lose face in front of the royal family.”

Wei Wuxian nods. Jiang Fengmian smiles and touches Madam Yu’s hand. She scowls.

The trip to the royal palace is mercifully short. After they land, Jiang Fengmian takes Wei Wuxian’s hand and leads him out of the palanquin.

During the day, the royal palace is lovely, all smooth white stone and babbling rivers. Vines so dark they’re almost black wind around lustrous pillars. The main hall, where the wedding will take place, is flanked by huge stained-glass windows whose panes depict the life of Lan An, the royal family’s founder. The King stands next to his brother, his white robes a stark contrast to his brother’s wedding red. A white ribbon almost identical to the one Wei Wuxian had found in his brother’s rooms is tied around his forehead.

Wei Wuxian steps forward and takes his bethrothed’s hand. They bow thrice to their family and their ancestors, then kneel and pour the ceremonial tea. When Wei Wuxian knocks his back, it tastes like jasmine and lychee.

They head to the banquet hall for the wedding feast, which consists of bland congee garnished with medicinal herbs. Despite the taste, Wei Wuxian shovels it down his throat—he hasn’t eaten anything all day. Next to him, his husband eats with dainty, dedicated precision.

Mysterious Beautiful Assassin Man would like this, Wei Wuxian thinks.

He blinks and puts his spoon down. It seems that he’s lost his appetite.

When the banquet finally ends, he and his husband are brought to their wedding chamber. The biggest bed Wei Wuxian has ever seen takes up most of the room. Wei Wuxian sits on it with a plop and takes off his veil.

“Well,” he says, looking back up at his husband, “how—”

The words die in his throat. His husband has removed his veil, revealing a pair of golden eyes and a lush that mouth all too familiar.

The Crown Prince’s legs wobble when he walks towards Wei Wuxian. He falls to his knees in front of him and traces his cheekbone with his thumb.

“Yuandao,” he says. He says that name like it’s a prayer, in a voice Wei Wuxian has missed for months. “Yuandao, how—”

Wei Wuxian grips his husband’s biceps and pulls him up so their eyes are level. “I gave you a false name,” he says. “I was—I was on a mission. You know that.”

“Yes,” the Crown Prince—no, Mysterious Beautiful Assassin Man—says. “Yes, I know.” His thumb moves back and forth over Wei Wuxian’s cheekbones, his palm cupping Wei Wuxian’s jaw. Wei Wuxian shivers and presses his face into his husband’s hand.

“I missed you,” Wei Wuxian says. He can feel tears sliding down his cheeks. “I missed you so much.”

“You came into my room.” Mysterious Beautiful Assassin Man’s voice is soft. “You—you touched my ribbon.”

“I was looking for intel on you,” Wei Wuxian says. “Something incriminating. I didn’t want to marry Crown Prince Wangji.” He meets his husband’s eyes and smiles. “I wanted to court the lovely spy who saved my life.”

“Mn.” His husband sits on the bed next to him. “And now?”

“You like me, right?”

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian rests his cheek on his husband’s shoulder. “Then it’s a good thing I couldn’t find anything. Your virtue is unparalleled, Crown Prince Wangji.”

“Lan Zhan,” his husband says. “Call me Lan Zhan.”

He puts his arms around Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and smiles.

“You can call this husband Wei Ying, then.”

Lan Zhan presses a kiss to his hair. “As my husband wishes.”

#xzstudios #wangxiansolstice20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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flightlessangelwings · 5 years

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Guardian Angel

Summary: Back in Ancient Greece, Aziraphale and Crowley find each other on the battlefield, but not against each other. When Aziraphale takes a hit meant for Crowley and it doesn’t heal, it’s up to the demon to nurse him back to health.

Written for the Infeeable Temptations gift exchange and I realized I forgot to share it here as well.

The year was 326 BC, and the mighty and unstoppable Greek army marched forward into unknown lands. Their leader, Alexander the Great, led the intrepid group further East than anyone in their history had before. But how was this great king and general able to accomplish such a monumental task of uniting the entire known world? He unknowingly had help, an angel and a demon on each shoulder if you will.

Aziraphale the angel joined his army all the way back in Greece, and quickly became a close advisor to the king. He always managed to point Alexander in the right direction, and quietly used his powers to make sure casualties and injuries were at a minimum. The demon Crawley, as he was known then, was much more subtle. He usually took the form of some type of bird or his original snake form and watched and manipulated events from afar. Which is why it took the two supernatural beings so long to realize that both were involved in these historic events.

It was the battle of Hydaspes. The Greeks fought against the defenders of the land led by King Porus along the river. It was a great and bloody battle, as most were. Aziraphale held his own as he defended himself and the men around him. He may prefer to use brain over brawn and generally he liked to avoid violence, but he was still plenty skilled with a sword. The angel silently apologized to those he had to hit, and was able to avoid fatal blows to everyone he encountered; instead of killing, he knocked his opponents unconscious and they always managed to wake just after the Greek troops had moved on.

It was after he defeated a large-built man that Azirphale noticed something in the distance. Or rather, someone. Red curls flowed out of the black Greek helmet and the figure in question wore all black Greek armor. It took the angel by surprise, he hadn’t expected to run into the demon here of all places. Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat for a moment as he watched Crawley elegantly battle the enemies around him. Unlike the angel, however, he has no qualms about killing his opponents. That can be forgiven, Aziraphale thought to himself.

From behind him, an enemy soldier thought he had the Greek warrior dressed in all white armor caught off guard. But, Aziraphale quickly reacted and was able to disarm and kick down his opponent with little effort. In the process, however, he has lost track of the figure he was watching. The angel scanned the battlefield for the only fighter dressed in all black. After a few moments, he was able to find him.

And what he saw made his face a white as his armor.

Crawley was ambushed by a group of soldiers and he tried desperately to fend them all off. He was doing a great job of it too, beating down each opponent one by one, until an archer from a distance took aim at the figure in all black. He didn’t seem to notice, but Aziraphale did. And he knew he had to do something.

Before his brain could catch up to his own thoughts, the angel rushed across the field. He prayed, more to himself than to anyone who might or might not be listening, that he would get there in time. The archer drew back his arrow and took aim.

“Crawley!!” the angel’s voice rang out over the many cries and screams of the battlefield. The demon looked up to see a blur of white run just past him and he knew instantly who that voice that called his name belonged to.

The next several moments passed by as if time moved in slow motion. Crawley turned around just in time to see the angel hit by an arrow, an arrow that would have hit him if Aziraphale hadn’t jumped in the way. He gasped as his eyes widened.

“Aziraphale?” his voice came out much higher than he intended as he caught the angel’s falling form in his arms. “Aziraphale!” he all but shouted.

For some reason, the arrow knocked Aziraphale unconscious. An arrow that normally either of them could just pull out and heal themselves from. Crawley ignored everything happening around him as he focused on the blonde in his arms and cried out his name over and over again.

“AZIRAPHALE!”

Suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not his mission that brought him so far East. Not the lives of the humans around them. Not even his own life. Crawley’s only objective was the angel’s safely. He couldn’t explain why, but fear took hold of him as Aziraphale’s breaths became very shallow. Without a second thought, he took Aziraphale into his arms and rushed off the battlefield. The humans were on their own now.

Crawley took Aziraphale to a nearby cave and quickly lit a fire. Carefully, he lay the angel down and tore off his armor to reveal the wound on his chest.

“Come on,” the demon gasped desperately, “Heal,” he tried to use the power he had to make the wound close on its own. However, no matter how hard he tried, it would not heal. “What?” Crawley looked at his hands in disbelief before he tried again.

Aziraphale’s breaths were getting more shallow by the minute and it because harder and harder to breathe. His skin flushed as his body temperature rose. “Cr… Crawley…” he panted out between heavy breaths.

“Shhh,” he looked up from the open wound to meet the angel’s eyes, “I’m here. I’ve got you,” he tried and failed to hide the panic in his voice, “Just stay with me, ok angel?”

The blonde opened his mouth to answer, but a fresh sting of pain shot through his entire body. His body thrashed back against the ground as he exclaimed in pain. Blood poured out of the open wound and a layer of sweat coated his skin.

“No no no no no,” Crawley’s hands shook with fear. He never had a miracle not work before, and he couldn’t bear it if he lost Aziraphale. He took a deep breath to steady himself because he ripped his cloak off to put pressure on the wound. “If a miracle won’t work,” he told himself while he got to work to stop the bleeding, “It’ll just have to be the human way.”

Full blown snake eyes bore down at the body before him as the demon concentrated everything he had to clean up Azirapahle’s wound. Next to him, he made a bucket of clean water appear while in his hands he manifested a needle and a cloth. His breath was shakey with nerves as he cleaned up the blood all over the angel’s porcelain skin. It was in that moment that he was grateful that he had spent so much time around humans as he dug deep into his mind to think of anything that would help.

Luckily, what Crawley did seemed to help. The mix of herbs he summoned stopped the bleeding and started to bring Aziraphale’s fever down. Satisfied with how the wound looked, he got to work to sew up the open gash to make sure it wouldn’t continue to bleed.

“Azirapahle?” he asked in a soft voice.

The angel hadn’t opened his eyes in some time. His breaths were ragged from the pain of the ordeal. For a moment, his eyes fluttered open, but he didn’t seem to look directly at the figure before him. Again, he opened his mouth as if to say something, but before any sound left his lips, his head dropped back and he passed out.

The hours passed agonizingly slow for the redhead as he never left Aziraphale’s side. He kept an eye on the opening of the cave they resided in; he watched as the sun rose and set as the angel continued to sleep the infection away. The demon did not sleep a wink, not that he needed it in the first place. His first and only priority was to keep an eye on the blond that risked his life for his own.

As the light of the moon shone into the cave, Crawley studied the soft face that slept in front of him. His heart skipped a beat as so many thoughts ran through his head. But those thoughts were interrupted by the stirring of the angel.

After over a day of sleep, Aziraphale started to wake up for the first time. Crawley took the angel’s hand in his. It was still warm; the fever hadn’t quite broken yet. He may be better now than he was when they first came into the cave, but the demon knew they weren’t out of the woods yet.

“Hey,” his voice was soft as he greeted the angel.

“Crawley?” he asked weakly.

“Shhh, just rest angel,” his voice was soft as he brushed a lock of blonde hair aside.

“Where…?” he couldn’t even finish the thought as he tried to lift himself up.

“Hey, hey,” Crawley gently pushed him back to lay down, “You need to rest. I don’t know why a miracle isn’t healing this,” worry laced his voice, “Must he this land or something.”

Aziraphale groaned, “I’m fine Crawley, really,” he tried to sass back, but he found he didn’t have the energy and started to drift back off to sleep.

Crawley scoffed quietly, not at Aziraphale, but at the name, “I don’t think Crawley is really working for me,” he said more to himself than to the semi-conscious angel.

In that moment, a group of crows fluttered awake from the breeze and flew past them out of the cave.

“Crows,” Aziraphale whispered, “Crow…. Crowley,” he muttered, unaware of what he was saying.

“Crowley,” the demon pondered.

The angel slept for another day before he finally woke again. This time, he woke with more strength and his fever broke. As he slowly sat himself up, Azirapahle looked around the cave. He saw the embers of what was a fire next to him and near the entrance, he saw a figure outlined by the midday sun.

“Crawley?” he called out to the figure.

In an instant, the demon was right at his side, “Angel! You’re awake,” his voice almost broke as worry lined his face.

Azirapahle smiled sweetly, “Thanks to you,” he took his hand and squeezed it in appreciation.

Crawley felt his face blush at the angel’s gaze. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments before the demon cleared his throat and looked down at their entwined hands. He held for a moment before he set Azirphale’s hand down. “I’m glad you’re ok,” he finally spoke, “You had me worried for awhile there.”

Aziraphale let out a deep breath as he watched the demon fidget in his spot. Unsure of what to say next, he asked, “What are you doing all the way out here anyway?”

“I could ask the same about you,” the demon retorted playfully.

“If you must know,” the blonde was just as playful, “I was helping Alexander since Greece. It’s a noble thing he’s doing, uniting the world as one. DIfferent people living under one ruler together. Doesn’t sound so bad.”

A slight chuckle escaped Crawley’s lips, “I was just helping Hell get more souls. People tend to have some nasty thoughts while in war. I’m just here taking advantage of it.”

“You’re joking.”

“Am I?” he replied with a devilish smile.

Aziraphale took a breath in as if he had more to say, but he chose to let it go. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Why did you do it?” the redhead broke the silence with a question that was on his mind.

“What?” Azirapahle was taken off guard by the question.

“Jump in front of me. Take that arrow. Why’d you do it?” he asked again.

The angel sighed as he looked down at the ground, “I don’t know. I just…” he paused for a moment, “Had to.”

Crawley let those words settle in his mind for a minute. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Aziraphale met the demon’s eyes, “What was that?” he asked playfully.

“Thank you,” he repeated more clearly with a smile on his face. He gently placed his hand on top of the angel’s.

Moments seemed to last for hours, but this time in a good way. The two gazed into each other’s eyes as if they were looking for answers to unasked questions. Before they realized it, they leaned closer to each other until their lips were only a hair apart. The demon hesitated for a moment, but Aziraphale took the opportunity to close the distance and closed their lips together.

It wasn’t a deep kiss, but it still felt so meaningful. So many years of emotions and unsaid words came to the surface with one simple kiss. Aziraphale brought his hand up to cup Crawley’s cheek. In response, Crawley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s waist to pull him even closer.

“Ow” the angel exclaimed. Crawley managed to irritate the still healing wound when he grabbed him.

“Ack! Sorry angel,” the demon apologized sincerely and checked on the wound to make sure he didn’t do any real damage.

“It’s fine Crawley, really,” he reassured the worried redhead.

Crawley set out a deep sigh, “So,” he started once he was satisfied that Aziraphale was really ok, “What now?”

The angel shrugged, “I don’t know. I’m still and angel, and you’re still a demon,” he thought out loud, “I guess it’s back to our jobs. Although who knows where the Greek army is now.”

“I think that may be a lost cause at this point, angel,” he said with a short laugh. To be honest, Crawley completely forgot about Alexander and the Greek army and the battle. “Besides, we need to make sure you’re ok before anything else.”

“I’m ok,” Azirapahle retorted, “You took good care of me, Crawley. I’ll be back to normal in a few hours thanks to you,” he gave the demon a sweet smile.

“You can’t mention this to anyone, you know that,” the demon suddenly got defensive as he remembered the rest of the world still existed.

“Of course my dear. A demon’s reputation is all important now,” he teased.

Crawley rolled his eyes as he tried to hide a smile, “Well, I guess we will run into each other next time then,” he said as he brushed his hand against the angel’s cheek before he stood to leave.

Aziraphale nodded, “Until next time then,” he repeated as he watched the demon leave the cave with a warm smile on his face and a flutter in his heart.

#ineffable husbands #crowley x arizaphale #good omens fic #good omens #good omens fanfiction #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands fic #ineffable husbands fluff

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