Chapter Text
“Order for Aziraphale!”
The barista pushed a mug across the counter that contained a steaming, unearthly purple liquid that was topped with a high peak of whipped cream and dusted with blue and pink glitter. Aziraphale blinked at the ghastly beverage, which was decidedly not the Earl Grey tea he had ordered. It was a simple mistake that nevertheless sent panic sparking through his nerve endings like an electric current.
The barista noticed his hesitation, “Is everything alright, sir?”
Aziraphale started to wring his hands in an attempt to jumpstart whatever part of his mind was responsible for rational thinking, “Um, I just wanted to make sure this was the order for ‘Aziraphale’?”
Pulling the mug closer, the barista checked the ticket, “Yes, it says ‘Aziraphale’. Is that what you ordered?”
He paused for a moment as he nervously looked around at the other patrons as they waited for their drinks. The past year had been a difficult one, to say the least. As much as Aziraphale tried not to think about it, the evidence of the seismic changes constantly bubbled up around him. For one, his brain started to register small inconveniences as life-threatening situations. Just last week he’d had a panic attack after forgetting to buy milk at the grocery store. Another time he started hyperventilating after a handsome stranger had tried to strike up a conversation with him on the tube. It’s not that he didn’t find the man attractive or that he didn’t want a companion, it’s just that he felt pliable and raw and he couldn’t understand why anyone would look at him and find anything worthwhile.
And the very last thing he wanted to do was inconvenience someone else. Since the line for the counter stretched all the way back to the door, he arranged his face into a reassuring smile and reached gingerly for the drink, “Oh y-yes! It’s perfect. Thank you, my dear.”
Carrying the drink back to the table, Aziraphale drew air into his lungs to stave off the residual unease of the whole exchange. Focused breathing was often the only thing that helped him feel grounded and kept him feeling like he was in control of his own body. By the time he re-joined Anathema, he no longer felt like he was falling from a great height.
“That’s not your usual,” Anathema noted, pointing to the ridiculous concoction in his hand.
Aziraphale sighed, “I’m afraid they must have misheard my order. I suppose I’ll be trying something new today.”
“You could just tell them they got your order wrong.”
“No no no,” Aziraphale waved his hands, his chest clenching uncomfortably at the thought, “It’s quite alright my darling, it’s no trouble.”
Anathema shrugged, her gaze one of patience with a touch of concern, “Suit yourself, maybe you’ll love it.”
“Perhaps I will,” he chuckled weakly.
Aziraphale hadn’t seen Anathema since she’d left for university, although he’d been a friend of her family for years. He’d been close with her mother when they both worked in the pediatric wing of St. Joseph’s Hospital. The Device family often invited Aziraphale over for dinners and birthdays, their warmth and generosity in stark juxtaposition to the cold indifference of his own family. Aziraphale always cherished his time with Anathema, who possessed the brilliance and mindfulness of someone much older. She was an excellent listener, at moments her eyes would twinkle with familiarity and perception that Aziraphale was never able to explain rationally.
That metaphysical glimmer was present today, as they spent the better part of an hour catching up. Against all odds, the mysterious drink Aziraphale received turned out to be delightful, he sipped it enthusiastically as Anathema talked about college, her partner Newt, and her recent promotion to director at Camp Eden.
When it came time for Aziraphale to discuss what he’d been up to he expertly maneuvered around the fault lines of trauma from the past year, making vague references to things without providing elaboration. From the way that Anathema gazed at him with her sage brown eyes, Aziraphale suspected that she already knew.
“So,” Anathema inhaled after a natural pause in their conversation, “I’m here with a secret agenda.”
Aziraphale raised his eyebrows, bringing his mug to his lips to polish off what he deduced must have been a lavender hot chocolate, “Oh, a secret now? Well go on, do enlighten me.”
“I want to offer you a job.”
Aziraphale didn’t move. Comprehension evaded him, slipping through his grasp like sand through his fingers, “I’m sorry, what?”
A confident smile spread to Anathema’s lips, “We need a nurse onsite to work with the campers this summer. I’m offering the position to you.”
Now that he understood what was being asked, a new confusion flooded him, “I-I-I don’t– Me? You want me to work there?”
“Of course, who better?”
An incredulous laugh escaped him, “There must be others who’d be better suited for–”
“Nope,” Anathema shook her head once, her tone even and certain, “You’re an amazing nurse. I’m reaching out because you are my ideal candidate.”
The compliments floated around Aziraphale for a moment but dissipated when he refused to accept them, “My dear, I-I-I’m flattered by the offer, truly I am. But I still have my job at St. Joseph’s. I’ve been there for so many years now. I’m–”
Happy here.
The words were right there, queued in his mind. Aziraphale opened and closed his mouth, trying to will them forth.
He furrowed his brow as he tried again, “I think it’s wonderful you’ve thought about me for this, but things have been fine. London is my home and I-I-I really am, um, I really am–”
The moisture in his mouth dried up, the words retreating hastily before they made it to his tongue.
Anathema regarded him calmly, “I understand, Aziraphale. I wouldn’t ask you to make a decision as big as this one immediately.”
Aziraphale grasped for something to say something– to politely decline, to dismiss the offer outright. With no words or pleasantries within his reach, he swallowed around the barbs in his throat and nodded instead.
Sensing his discomfort, Anathema leaned onto her elbows smiling warmly, “Can I share something with you from my own experience?”
There was relief in knowing that the spotlight was no longer on him. Aziraphale felt the muscles in his shoulders relax, “Yes, of course you can.”
“When I finished my senior year of college, I had it all planned out: graduate school, career, where I was going to live, when I was getting married, what my kids' names were going to be. All of it was laid out on this iron-clad timeline I made for myself. I worked tirelessly on my grad school application to Oxford because that’s where I was always going to go. I waited and waited to hear back, and on the day before graduation I got my rejection letter.”
“After that,” she leaned back with a sigh, “I basically gave up. My parents let me have my time to grieve, and there were days when I didn’t even leave my room. It felt like all my hard work and planning were for nothing. I was so sure that I was supposed to be at Oxford that I foolishly hadn’t applied anywhere else. Then one day, I’m huddled in my room and doom-scrolling online, and I see this job posting. I was incredibly tempted to ignore it– but something told me to give it a second glance. The listing was for a camp counselor position at this summer camp in the middle of nowhere. When I read through the job posting, I felt this sense of calm wash over me. The job wasn’t anything I had thought of doing before, but there was this indescribable pull to it as if I was meant to go there. So I applied, and it turned out to be the best decision I could have made. Nothing about it was according to plan, yet everything fell into place.”
Anathema clasped her hands together, “My point in telling you all this is that bad things happen all the time, and it hurts like hell. Sometimes, though, the universe will send you a different path. That’s our chance to start over. I don’t claim to know everything about what you’re going through, but I think it could be a good change of pace. If it feels right for you.”
Aziraphale cleared his throat, “Thank you, Anathema, for sharing that with me. I’m sorry you had to go through such a difficult time, but it’s wonderful that it led you to an environment and career that are fulfilling for you. As far as the offer I-I-”
He hesitated. On one hand, he was deterred by the thought of more change. The foundation of his existence had caved in, and he was still reeling from the aftermath. When it came to making choices, he was a man who needed considerable time to process and weigh all his options. For one of this caliber, he could fret about it for weeks, maybe months, if given the opportunity.
On the other hand, he’d been stepping cautiously over the debris of his life for months now. It required constant vigilance, and god was it draining . It was a type of exhaustion that sat heavy in his soul, the type that sleep did little to alleviate. Not even his books could fully assuage the anxiety that haunted him from the moment he opened his eyes in the morning.
If the volatility of the past year had taught him anything it was that he could no longer live a life that wasn’t meant for him. The stories he read each night, the ones he hung onto like a life raft, were all about life happening for other people. Existing had become so difficult in the present that he’d inadvertently shrunk back – become a spectator to his own life.
No longer.
“I-I- yes. I could probably use a change,” There it was, out in the open. Energy pulsed throughout his body. It was the risk and excitement that went along with not knowing exactly what was coming next, what was behind the corner.
That knowing glint in her eye sparked briefly as Anathema grinned widely.
He was falling, he was flying.
“I’d like to know more about the position if you have the time to tell me about it. I’m interested.”
“Of course, I can,” Anathema readjusted in her seat excitedly. “Ready?”
Aziraphale held up a finger as he fished in his satchel for scratch paper and a pen. Once retrieved, he smiled impishly, “I’m ready.”
—-
Towering pines lined the gravel road as the taxi lurched down the gravel path. The driver had gotten lost twice in her attempt to find the place, but Aziraphale thought that the seclusion was part of its charm. ‘CAMP EDEN’ was engraved on an enormous wooden sign that hung between two dark wooden posts.
The gravel road entrance led to a wide clearing. A prominent log structure sat squarely in the middle, it must have been what Anathema had referred to as the ‘lodge’. The front was decorated with patches of native grasses and accented by flowers.
Aziraphale rolled down his window as the taxi slowed. He shut his eyes and inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma of pine trees and freshly cut grass. When the fresh air permeated his lungs, a deep-seated tension inside his chest eased slightly.
Since accepting the ‘camp nurse’ position three months ago, Aziraphale’s existence in London occupied a liminal space; he was within and without. Each day he would dutifully complete all the tasks needed to survive as a shadow continued to cling to his heels and trail behind him. The difference this time, however, was the faint light at the end of the tunnel, a promise of a new start ahead. For the next few weeks, he’d kept his eyes set on the dull glow and pushed forward against the manacles that shackled him to the life that no longer suited him.
A high-pitched squeak issued from the brakes as the taxi slowed to a stop in front of the lodge. Aziraphale stepped out and crossed the threshold into his new start, into the unknown.
The tranquility of his arrival was followed by a rush of introductions. Anathema first led him into the lodge, which was grand in scale and whose walls were made of dark wooden logs. Inside he met Eric and Muriel, both camp counselors. Eric had a firm handshake and a wide elfish grin, he mentioned offhandedly that he had a habit of getting injured and that he may be stopping by to see Aziraphale often during the summer season. Muriel was cherubic and delightfully sweet, she discussed that she was in charge of the younger kids. Before Aziraphale was whisked away to view more of the lodge, they graciously offered to deliver his bags to his cabin.
Once in the main office, he met the secretary, Tracy. She was an older woman with dyed hair and elaborately painted nails. Her voice was soothing, her demeanor eccentric and mysterious. Aziraphale took a liking to her immediately.
Connected to the main office was the nurse’s quarters, a small room that contained the required staples: a cot, cabinets filled with supplies, and shelves lined with sunscreens and ointments. The best feature was the large window that faced the campgrounds behind the lodge. Anathema pointed out a locked cabinet where the camper's medication and inhalers were stored as well as a drawer where the confidential files were kept.
“After our tour and once you’ve had a chance to settle into your cabin,” Anathema started, “I’ll have you do an inventory for anything you might need to start the summer. We have a lot on hand but there may have been things that expired that will need to be replaced. I believe Crowley, our groundskeeper, is going to town later this afternoon. You could carpool with him to get any of the supplies you’ll need.”
Aziraphale nodded and vocalized an affirmative as he perused the office, pleased to have an area of his own to work. He scrunched his brow at the name Anathema had mentioned, which set off a distant bell from the recesses of his brain. Unable to place it, he waved the thought away.
Continuing the tour, Anathema led him through a large gymnasium with a built-in stage at one end. They made their way to the opposite end of the lodge which housed the cafeteria. The high-ceiling room was lined with dozens of long wooden tables. Once they reached the kitchen, Aziraphale was introduced to Nina and Maggie. Maggie was the remaining camp counselor, her presence was warm and particularly kind as she welcomed Aziraphale to the ‘Eden family’. Nina, on the other hand, seemed more guarded. She exchanged a few pleasantries but remained focused on a pot boiling on the stove. They said their goodbyes and Aziraphale was ushered away.
Once outside, Aziraphale entered another realm entirely. Behind the lodge was a wide grass clearing surrounded by giant trees. Under the shade of the copious tapestry of leaves was the playground. Its slides, jungle gyms, and swings were interconnected over top of deep brown mulch. Further to his left were several rows of garden beds, each containing various types of vegetation. Small wooden markers poked up from the earth crookedly with labels such as ‘turnips’, ‘strawberries’, and ‘mint’. Dotted further behind the grass clearing were the student cabins, each made from the same dark wood as the lodge.
Aziraphale’s mouth hung agape, none of the parks in London could remotely compare to the majesty of the land before him. Naturally empathetic, he could often read the emotional energy of people and environments – it was a helpful tool when he worked with his patients. Often he wondered if the skill was innate, or if it had been learned as a survival tactic for navigating a rigid family. Either way, he noticed an aura from the moment he’d arrived at the camp. Love. The whole area was saturated with it. The staff and the children must really love this place.
“Anathema,” he breathed, “Oh this is, this is heavenly .”
“Eden’s a fitting name then, huh?”
Aziraphale clasped his hands to his chest, “It certainly is.”
Anathema beamed, “I’ve been working with our counselors and groundskeeper to integrate nature into our programming. These gardens are going to be here for our kids to tend to the herbs, vegetables, and flowers we’ve planted. You can’t see it from here but on the other side is the peace garden. It’s a shaded quiet space for the campers who get overstimulated. And that path between the middle cabins takes you to the lake.”
“Well, it’s simply breathtaking, and I think you’ve done an excellent job.”
Anathema hugged the clipboard to her chest, “Thank you, Aziraphale.”
Aziraphale noticed a small path that veered off to the left and into the trees, “And where does that path go?”
“Oh! That leads to the staff cabins which are detached from the main campground. We are going there next actually so you can see where you’ll be staying.”
They set off onto the narrow path while Anathema discussed the camp schedule for the first week. Distant, rhythmic ‘ thunks’ ’ could be heard as they neared their destination. After a few minutes, the trees parted to reveal a small clearing with five tiny cabins. The middle cabin had Aziraphale’s bags neatly set in front of the door. Except for the cabin on the far left, which had a few potted plants lining the steps, most of the other cabins looked empty.
“Not many people are staying in the staff cabins currently,” Anathema commented. “Newt and I stay in the apartment above the lodge, the counselors have rooms connected to the camper’s cabins. Everyone else commutes in from town.”
As they walked further into the clearing, the source of the ‘ thunk ’-ing was revealed. In the distance was a tall, thin figure standing next to a large stump. The man was shirtless, holding an axe in one hand and wiping his forehead with the back of the other. Heat rose to Aziraphale’s cheeks, which he dismissively blamed on the blinding sunshine that had begun to peak through the clouds overhead.
They continued toward the man when Anathema brought her hands to her mouth and called, “Crowley!”
There it was again, that name. It resonated dimly but fell short of true recognition.
The man, Crowley, looked up, his chest heaving from exertion. He let the axe drop next to him and reached to pick up a water bottle that was set off to the side. “Hey, witch girl.”
Morning sunbeams illuminated the gardener's red hair that was gathered in a loose bun atop his head. The sunshine flashed on the tattoo of a snake that started at his left shoulder and wound down to his wrist. His features were angular, freckles scattered across the edge of his chiseled cheekbones.
The nurse felt eclipsed being in the presence of such rugged, untamable beauty. A creation sculpted by the gods, one which grew wild in the refuge of the forest. Azirahpale thought of fae folk, and how willingly he could be lured into the dark thickets of a strange wooded area if Crowley were the one beckoning him. Follow me, yes come closer…
Aziraphale watched as the gardener brought the bottle to his lips. The sight sent a jolt of something primal and wanting through him. He attempted to swallow it down, the torrent of feelings bubbling to the surface. Instead, he cast his eyes to the earth and allowed the familiar ache of shame to ease into him, but even it couldn’t calm the fluttering of his pulse.
That fiery hair, why did the sight of his hair further rattle a memory from long ago? The inability to connect the dots made him feel feverish.
The rapid palpitation of his heartbeat was thunderous in his ears when Anathema sidestepped and gestured toward him, “I want you to meet Aziraphale. He’s filling the nurse position this summer.”
Crowley raised an eyebrow over the rim of his sunglasses and pulled the water bottle away from his lips, his breathing still heavy.
“Hi.”
It took Aziraphale a monumental amount of willpower to not watch the beads of perspiration lazily move down the gardener's chest. His eyes widened when he noticed the line of copper hair that trailed from his belly button to the top button of his tight black jeans–
Oh lord, he had to stop.
Aziraphale desperately hoped that the redhead’s stylish black sunglasses obscured the sinful direction of his gaze.
Forcing himself back into the moment, Aziraphale gave a smile and held out his hand, “Hello! It’s lovely to meet you, Crowley.”
Crowley lowered his head to examine his free hand, “I’m uh….” Sheepishly, he held it up, waving it slightly to accentuate the splotches of dirt.
Aziraphale brought his hand back, clasping it awkwardly in front of him, “Oh! That’s quite alright.”
Anathema tilted her head towards Aziraphale, “Crowley started the same year I joined as a camp counselor. He worked with me to add in the gardens and all the native plants this year. An incredible help, even though he can be a pain in my ass at times."
“You know for a second there it sounded like you were going to pay me a compliment,” Crowley teased.
“Not a chance, can’t have it going to your head,” Anathema shot back smiling. “Anyway, Aziraphale will be your only neighbor this summer. Nina’s officially decided she’s commuting.”
“Really? No Nina? That’s too bad,” Crowley mumbled, removing his sunglasses. “Well,” he continued with a centering sigh. His eyes, deep pools of amber and honey, met Aziraphale’s. “Neighbors then.”
Recognition hit him heavily, the puzzle piece turning and snapping into place.
“I’m sorry, um, b-but, is your first name Anthony? ” Aziraphale asked tentatively.
Crowley stiffened.