Twelve Months
There was so much clamor for a sequel to Twelve Days, that _serpensortia and I are proud to present:
Title: Twelve Months
By: musegaarid & _serpensortia
Rating: PG
Summary: Six weeks later, Crowley is still thinking about Gabriel's wing kink.
Notes: The previous story is here... The Twelve Days of Christmas: part two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve
It had been six weeks since Crowley spoke to Haniel about his little... bet with Aziraphale. Six weeks of trying to understand what the angel meant about love. Six weeks of abstinence after a fortnight with a different partner every day. Yet his attention kept drifting not to Jeliel or Dobiel or any of the others who'd acquiesced, pleasant memories though they were, but to Gabriel, who hadn't. Wings, Haniel had said. Gabriel was into wings.
Crowley couldn't remember what Gabriel's wings looked like. The image of the dark-haired archangel sitting on his bed, giving him unreadable looks while his shirt slid open and a sliver of pale abdomen appeared was crystal clear and never far from the demon's mind, but for the life of him Crowley couldn't remember what the angel's wings looked like. He pondered the matter for hours each day, pouring through art books and rejecting each fanciful design. It was becoming something of an obsession.
The days drifted past and the demon accomplished very little until he glanced one day at the calendar. February 13th. The day before Valentine's Day. Crowley was proud of Valentine's Day. Though it was nominally named for a saint, most people despised it. Single people wept for being alone and couples were forced into expensive rituals to prove their love for one another. More people hated it than Christmas, which was saying something. However something about it niggled at Crowley's mind. Something about Valentine's Day and romance and Gabriel...
He would seduce him, he decided. It was the only way to stop thinking about him and bloody well move on already. Besides, it couldn't be too difficult. The archangel had been, if not eager to go along with things six weeks prior, at least willing. All he should have to do is get Gabriel in the proper mood. Decision made, Crowley rang up a local florist. He could, of course, have miracled up two dozen red roses and have them sent to the angel's office, but an anonymous note attached to a collection of demonically produced flowers was more likely to end up in the rubbish bin, if not actually on fire, than on Gabriel's desk. It was classier, too, he felt, to actually pay for the things. Gabriel would see he was making an effort. So to speak.
The next morning, a van delivered the stunning bouquet to the offices of G. Engel, CPA. The card read 'Meet me at Assaggi in Notting Hill at 8pm. -An admirer.'
***
Crowley was uncharacteristically early that evening; luckily, his table was ready and waiting, even at a quarter 'til. The restaurant was full of well-dressed romantic couples, he noted as he took the seat facing the door, ordered a bottle of the restaurant's most expensive wine, and waited to see if the archangel would arrive.
He was hoping that the vagueness of the message would be enough to draw Gabriel to Assaggi that night. Or the enormity of the flower arrangement. Or possibly both. His luck seemed to have run dry as far as celestial encounters, though, so he'd take what he could get, even if it was pure angelic curiosity.
Sure enough, the archangel arrived promptly on the hour. His eyes were almost immediately drawn to the demon, and Crowley hid a smile behind his glass of wine when Gabriel paused to speak to the maitre d'. The man politely led the angel over to where Crowley was waiting for him. Gabriel's expression hardened almost imperceptibly around the edges of his neutral mask as they were left alone.
"Crowley," he said, and though his tone was not angry, he made no move to take the seat across from the demon. "What is this about?"
The demon gestured to the chair opposite him and poured Gabriel a glass of wine. "Consider this a gesture of appreciation."
Gabriel's look was somewhat less than charitable. "Appreciation? For what, exactly?"
Careful, Crowley told himself. It was more difficult that he would have imagined previously, but the kind of blatant flirting he'd employed so successfully with Dobiel wasn't going to work here. "Your generous assistance the other day," he explained.
"My assistance?" Though the archangel's expression didn't change, Gabriel did take his seat, accepting the glass of wine. "Do explain, demon."
Internally gloating that he'd gotten the angel to at least sit down, Crowley took another sip of his drink, feeling its tingling warmth spread throughout his chest. He smiled. "Without your patient tutoring, it may have been much longer before I learned what I needed to about love."
Gabriel made a knowing noise as he took his first sip of wine. "You did finally make it back to Haniel, then, did you?" He asked not with an air of interest, but in the dry manner of someone who had never really expected to have this conversation at all and had little investment in its outcome.
"I learned about his little game, yes," replied the demon, equally arid. "But he seemed to be under the impression that a number of you only participated out of a sense of duty."
"Whereas you were convinced the entire Host simply jumped at the chance to bend over for you?"
Crowley grinned. "No one seemed to object too strongly to the arduous task."
The angel's brow arched in perfect form, giving his bland expression a skeptical edge. However, he didn't argue the subject. "Why are we really here, Crowley?" he asked.
"I told you. I'm thanking you for your help. I wouldn't have figured it out when I did if not for you."
Gabriel raised his glass as if to take another sip of his wine, but instead simply swirled the contents idly, his eyes on Crowley. "And have you bought a dozen other dinners for celestial agents this week, or am I the only one who has earned your gratitude in all this?"
Leaning forward, Crowley rested his chin on his hand, the candlelight just glancing across his good cheekbones. "Quite frankly, Gabriel, they've already benefited from my gratitude."
Gabriel smiled, a wry expression that didn't reach his eyes. "Right. Well, thank you for the wine, demon," he said, pushing back from the table. "But I think I've benefited enough from your gratitude."
"Think what you will. But you're the only one I wanted to see again," Crowley murmured softly, disappointed but not surprised.
Without pausing, Gabriel glanced up curiously with an odd gravity to his expression as he pushed his chair in. When he did speak, however, all he said was, "Good night, Crowley." And then the angel turned to leave the restaurant.
Watching him go, the demon didn't dare speculate on Gabriel's reaction. All he could do now was wait and hope. Although going to bed early was sounding like an increasingly acceptable alternative...
***
The whole slew of offices among which Gabriel's was buried were closed, their windows darkened. His own door was likely locked, but he expected to be able to get in, and so the door opened easily for him. The archangel slid off his jacket, lying it over the arm of the couch where Crowley had had his encounter with the angel who was posing as Gabriel's secretary. (Of course, if he'd known that, Gabriel probably would have had the whole office cleaned before setting his jacket anywhere; fortunately he and Dobiel hadn't discussed the incident much.)
He hadn't much by the way of accounting to do that evening, but there was some paperwork of another sort that he hoped to get done.
Upon entering his office, Gabriel switched on a lamp. Its dusky yellow glow illuminated the small space. Before he even sat down, a bit of red caught his eye. The angel picked up the valentine.
There was no name on the simple card, but it had the same enigmatic energy as the flowers that still topped the filing cabinet in the corner. For a moment, the angel simply turned the card over in his hands, not quite sure what to think of all this.
Then Gabriel smiled.
March
Title: Twelve Months
By: musegaarid & _serpensortia
Rating: PG
Summary: Six weeks later, Crowley is still thinking about Gabriel's wing kink.
Notes: The previous story is here... The Twelve Days of Christmas: part two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve
It had been six weeks since Crowley spoke to Haniel about his little... bet with Aziraphale. Six weeks of trying to understand what the angel meant about love. Six weeks of abstinence after a fortnight with a different partner every day. Yet his attention kept drifting not to Jeliel or Dobiel or any of the others who'd acquiesced, pleasant memories though they were, but to Gabriel, who hadn't. Wings, Haniel had said. Gabriel was into wings.
Crowley couldn't remember what Gabriel's wings looked like. The image of the dark-haired archangel sitting on his bed, giving him unreadable looks while his shirt slid open and a sliver of pale abdomen appeared was crystal clear and never far from the demon's mind, but for the life of him Crowley couldn't remember what the angel's wings looked like. He pondered the matter for hours each day, pouring through art books and rejecting each fanciful design. It was becoming something of an obsession.
The days drifted past and the demon accomplished very little until he glanced one day at the calendar. February 13th. The day before Valentine's Day. Crowley was proud of Valentine's Day. Though it was nominally named for a saint, most people despised it. Single people wept for being alone and couples were forced into expensive rituals to prove their love for one another. More people hated it than Christmas, which was saying something. However something about it niggled at Crowley's mind. Something about Valentine's Day and romance and Gabriel...
He would seduce him, he decided. It was the only way to stop thinking about him and bloody well move on already. Besides, it couldn't be too difficult. The archangel had been, if not eager to go along with things six weeks prior, at least willing. All he should have to do is get Gabriel in the proper mood. Decision made, Crowley rang up a local florist. He could, of course, have miracled up two dozen red roses and have them sent to the angel's office, but an anonymous note attached to a collection of demonically produced flowers was more likely to end up in the rubbish bin, if not actually on fire, than on Gabriel's desk. It was classier, too, he felt, to actually pay for the things. Gabriel would see he was making an effort. So to speak.
The next morning, a van delivered the stunning bouquet to the offices of G. Engel, CPA. The card read 'Meet me at Assaggi in Notting Hill at 8pm. -An admirer.'
***
Crowley was uncharacteristically early that evening; luckily, his table was ready and waiting, even at a quarter 'til. The restaurant was full of well-dressed romantic couples, he noted as he took the seat facing the door, ordered a bottle of the restaurant's most expensive wine, and waited to see if the archangel would arrive.
He was hoping that the vagueness of the message would be enough to draw Gabriel to Assaggi that night. Or the enormity of the flower arrangement. Or possibly both. His luck seemed to have run dry as far as celestial encounters, though, so he'd take what he could get, even if it was pure angelic curiosity.
Sure enough, the archangel arrived promptly on the hour. His eyes were almost immediately drawn to the demon, and Crowley hid a smile behind his glass of wine when Gabriel paused to speak to the maitre d'. The man politely led the angel over to where Crowley was waiting for him. Gabriel's expression hardened almost imperceptibly around the edges of his neutral mask as they were left alone.
"Crowley," he said, and though his tone was not angry, he made no move to take the seat across from the demon. "What is this about?"
The demon gestured to the chair opposite him and poured Gabriel a glass of wine. "Consider this a gesture of appreciation."
Gabriel's look was somewhat less than charitable. "Appreciation? For what, exactly?"
Careful, Crowley told himself. It was more difficult that he would have imagined previously, but the kind of blatant flirting he'd employed so successfully with Dobiel wasn't going to work here. "Your generous assistance the other day," he explained.
"My assistance?" Though the archangel's expression didn't change, Gabriel did take his seat, accepting the glass of wine. "Do explain, demon."
Internally gloating that he'd gotten the angel to at least sit down, Crowley took another sip of his drink, feeling its tingling warmth spread throughout his chest. He smiled. "Without your patient tutoring, it may have been much longer before I learned what I needed to about love."
Gabriel made a knowing noise as he took his first sip of wine. "You did finally make it back to Haniel, then, did you?" He asked not with an air of interest, but in the dry manner of someone who had never really expected to have this conversation at all and had little investment in its outcome.
"I learned about his little game, yes," replied the demon, equally arid. "But he seemed to be under the impression that a number of you only participated out of a sense of duty."
"Whereas you were convinced the entire Host simply jumped at the chance to bend over for you?"
Crowley grinned. "No one seemed to object too strongly to the arduous task."
The angel's brow arched in perfect form, giving his bland expression a skeptical edge. However, he didn't argue the subject. "Why are we really here, Crowley?" he asked.
"I told you. I'm thanking you for your help. I wouldn't have figured it out when I did if not for you."
Gabriel raised his glass as if to take another sip of his wine, but instead simply swirled the contents idly, his eyes on Crowley. "And have you bought a dozen other dinners for celestial agents this week, or am I the only one who has earned your gratitude in all this?"
Leaning forward, Crowley rested his chin on his hand, the candlelight just glancing across his good cheekbones. "Quite frankly, Gabriel, they've already benefited from my gratitude."
Gabriel smiled, a wry expression that didn't reach his eyes. "Right. Well, thank you for the wine, demon," he said, pushing back from the table. "But I think I've benefited enough from your gratitude."
"Think what you will. But you're the only one I wanted to see again," Crowley murmured softly, disappointed but not surprised.
Without pausing, Gabriel glanced up curiously with an odd gravity to his expression as he pushed his chair in. When he did speak, however, all he said was, "Good night, Crowley." And then the angel turned to leave the restaurant.
Watching him go, the demon didn't dare speculate on Gabriel's reaction. All he could do now was wait and hope. Although going to bed early was sounding like an increasingly acceptable alternative...
***
The whole slew of offices among which Gabriel's was buried were closed, their windows darkened. His own door was likely locked, but he expected to be able to get in, and so the door opened easily for him. The archangel slid off his jacket, lying it over the arm of the couch where Crowley had had his encounter with the angel who was posing as Gabriel's secretary. (Of course, if he'd known that, Gabriel probably would have had the whole office cleaned before setting his jacket anywhere; fortunately he and Dobiel hadn't discussed the incident much.)
He hadn't much by the way of accounting to do that evening, but there was some paperwork of another sort that he hoped to get done.
Upon entering his office, Gabriel switched on a lamp. Its dusky yellow glow illuminated the small space. Before he even sat down, a bit of red caught his eye. The angel picked up the valentine.
There was no name on the simple card, but it had the same enigmatic energy as the flowers that still topped the filing cabinet in the corner. For a moment, the angel simply turned the card over in his hands, not quite sure what to think of all this.
Then Gabriel smiled.
March