Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aziraphale staggered along the dirt path, his wrists shackled behind him. He wanted to run in the opposite direction, but he knew he wouldn’t get far. There were several village officials walking in front of him, two guards flanking him, and an angry mob of villagers following close behind. Some of them used to be his friends.

The dirt path led away from the village he’d once called home and out towards the mountains.

A giant boulder came into view, pressed against the rock face.

The mob surged forward with loud cries. Aziraphale cowered, but they ran straight past him and swarmed to one side of the boulder, pushing it with all of their strength. The boulder slowly rolled away, revealing a hidden entrance.

Aziraphale’s legs trembled. He tried to back away, but the guards took hold of him and dragged him towards the cave entrance.

Men and woman entered the cave ahead of the group, armed with flaming torches and weapons.

“Don't worry,” said one of the torch wielders to their nervous companion. “The snake-demon won't come out here. Direct sunlight kills them, and they’re scared of fire. We’re perfectly safe.”

Aziraphale wasn’t safe. He'd never felt less safe in his life. His legs buckled and he dropped to his knees.

New Haven had seemed wonderful when he'd first arrived six months ago. The people had been so welcoming, and he’d quickly made plenty of friends. He’d been happy. He’d started to think he might spend the rest of his life in this beautiful and peaceful village. But then he'd started to see the cracks, and everything had fallen apart.

It all started when he found out about Madame Tracy. He’d been helping Gabriel and Sandalphon translate an old text, and the conversation had somehow come around to this poor woman. They'd called her a degenerate with loose morals. A pervert and a prostitute. They’d said she got what was coming to her, and then proudly explained that she’d been sacrificed to a demon. Aziraphale had been horrified.

Afterwards, he’d asked his friend, Anathema, about it, and it turned out she’d been good friends with Tracy. She’d bitterly explained that selling oneself was a criminal offence here, but, conveniently for the men, paying for such services wasn’t. She’d had to explain what a dominatrix was, and it’d made him blush.

In the village archives, he’d found a transcript from Tracy’s almost non-existent trial. He’d found notes from previous trials too, dating back to just over a year ago. An eleven-year-old boy – an orphan - had been sentenced to death via demon for stealing an apple from an orchard. A fucking apple.

If they’d kill a child for stealing an apple, there was no telling what other ridiculous things they’d kill you for, and he didn't want to find out.

In hindsight, he should have immediately taken Anathema with him and fled. He was homosexual, and that was a crime here. It was a crime everywhere he'd ever been, but at least there were places where it wasn’t punishable by death, where he’d at least receive an actual trial, and certainly wouldn’t be sacrificed to a monster.

Instead he’d dithered for a few days before finally going to Anathema’s cottage early one morning to ask if she’d like to go north with him, only to discover that she'd been whisked away in the night and her home had been turned upside down. She’d been accused of witchcraft. Aziraphale went to the courthouse and then to the prison, but he was too late. He rushed to the mountain, but the giant boulder was back in place, cutting off all access to the cave behind it. It needed at least half-a-dozen men to move it, and although he begged his friends to help him, they all refused.

Aziraphale knew he needed to leave immediately. He’d rushed back home to collect his things and found a mob waiting for him. Guilty by association. They’d raided his home, looking for something – anything - that could be used against him. They’d wanted proof that he practiced dark magic like Anathema, but all they found was incense. They'd discarded it, leaving the brightly coloured wooden sticks strewn across the floor. In the bedroom they'd emptied his drawers and found the beautiful glass dildo that he'd purchased years ago and kept hidden in his sock drawer. They'd left it in the open, ignoring it, too naive to understand what it was. Thank goodness it hadn’t looked overly phallic.

But then they’d found the hidden book. He’d kept it in a locked box, but he'd become complacent and stupidly left the key in the lock. The book contained a collection of homoerotic short stories. The stories were all written in a language that none of the villagers understood, and he might’ve gotten away with it if it hadn’t been for the highly graphic illustrations.

Aziraphale was labelled a sodomite and thrown into prison without a trial. He was left there for two weeks, until it was decided the demon would be hungry again.

Today was that day.

Aziraphale was dragged into the darkness of the cave and then forced up against a wooden stake, his back to it. His wrists were unshackled and then pulled behind him, where they were bound with rope, trapping him in place.

Gabriel - the leader of New Haven and someone Aziraphale had once thought of as a friend - now stood before him, watching with cold, dispassionate eyes.

“Gabriel! Please don’t do this!” Aziraphale pleaded. “I'll leave and never come back, I swear!”

Gabriel gave him a disgusted look and then turned towards the guards. “Someone gag him already.”

“No! Please! Don’t leave me here!”

Sandalphon stomped closer. A thick, rough rag was forced into Aziraphale’s mouth and then knotted at the back of his head. Aziraphale made muffled sounds of protest and shook his head wildly.

Gabriel crossed his arms. “A pervert like you deserves everything they get.”

Sandalphon lowered his voice. “The demon will probably fuck you before it eats you. But you’ll enjoy that, won’t you? They say a demon’s cock is as big as your leg.”

Aziraphale felt sick. His head was spinning. He’d never seen a snake-demon before. They were a thing of legend. He’d heard stories about them in other villages, and he’d seen illustrations of the snake-demon from these very mountains in the archives while researching Tracy’s trial. Gabriel’s eyewitness account of the creature had been written down. He’d described it as a huge beast with blood-red hair and a savage face full of fangs.

Only one snake-demon had been seen, but there could be a whole horde of the things. According to the archives, the cave has been sealed off just over a hundred years ago due to the sinful creatures living on the other side.

The villagers rushed out into the sunshine. Gabriel and Sandalphon were the last to leave, and in his panic Aziraphale tried to shout after them, the words mangled and muffled by the gag.

Gabriel glanced back at him over his shoulder. “Shut up and die already.” And then he and Sandalphon stepped out of view, leaving Aziraphale completely alone in the cave.

The boulder shuddered and then rolled back into place with a loud thud, the echo reverberating around the chamber. Aziraphale found himself plunged into complete darkness. Tears streamed down his face, soaking the gag as he tried desperately to free himself. He struggled against the ropes until eventually he became too exhausted and sagged forward, breathing heavily through his nose, knowing he was going to die here in the dark, either by monster or dehydration.

His eyes adjusted slowly, and he realised it wasn’t as dark as it’d first seemed. Small bioluminescent mushrooms sat in clumps between the rocks, and in the distance, a green glow came from around a corner suggesting a passageway of sorts at the very back of the cave.

The only sounds he heard for the next several hours were the dripping of water, stones falling somewhere deeper within the cave system, and his own laboured breathing, but worst of all was the sound of his own thoughts.

There was a distant whistling, eerie in the near silence. Aziraphale froze, listening intently, his breath coming sharp through his nose. The sound came closer, grew louder, ominous as it echoed around the chamber.

Aziraphale recognised the tune! Yes! From a village he'd visited many years ago up north. The local bard had sung this song often while strumming along on a lute. The song was in a different language to the one spoken in New Haven, but Aziraphale knew many languages, and while he'd not needed to speak this language in many years, he remembered it well. He even remembered some of the lyrics. How did it go? ‘Don't stop me now, I'm having such a good time, I'm having a ball.’

This meant there were other humans in the caves! He was saved! Surely demons didn’t whistle. Perhaps there had never been a demon at all. Perhaps Anathema and the others had been rescued. Hope blossomed and then died when he saw a shadow against the far wall at the back of the cave, lit by a ghostly green light. A huge serpent with a human torso and long hair that curled like so many snakes. Perhaps they were snakes, like Medusa from the legends.

No one was coming to rescue him.

The monster came into view, not as big as the shadow had suggested but still an unnatural thing, all dark scales and red hair. It was on the other side of the cavern, far away from him, emerging from a tunnel. A lantern hung at its waist and cast the figure in a ghostly white light.

Aziraphale kept very still, staring at the thing as it slithered across the ground, seemingly oblivious to his presence, and then it looked in his direction. It's eyes widened, and the whistling came to an abrupt stop.

Aziraphale let out an involuntary sound of terror and thrashed against his bonds, renewing his efforts to escape. He knew that it was useless. He hadn’t even managed to loosen the gag around his mouth, but panic had him trying anyway.

“Oh, no,” said the monster wretchedly. “Not again.”

Aziraphale froze. He could understand what the monster was saying. It was speaking the same language as the whistled song.

The monster moved towards him slowly, making soothing sounds like it was trying to comfort an injured animal, wrists bared in a submissive gesture.

“Shush now, it's okay. I won't hurt you. You poor thing. Let me just- I'm not threatening, see? Nice soft voice from a nice soft naga.”

It was clear that the demon – or naga, whatever that meant – didn't know that Aziraphale could understand him. None of the others would have known this language, not even Anathema. She’d come from the west, far away over the sea, not up north where this language was spoken.

The demon was almost upon him now. His tail was long and muscular, strong enough to support his human-like torso with ease. The scales were black, save for a red stripe down the front. His loose black shirt had a low-cut collar, and the hem reached down to about mid-thigh – or at least, where his thighs would be if he were human. The lantern turned out to be attached to a satchel slung over one shoulder. The white light came not from a candle but from a collection of bioluminescent mushrooms growing inside.

As the demon approached, his tail drew down, lowering his human body until he was the same height as Aziraphale. His hair wasn’t made of snakes. Instead, long, red curls brushed his shoulders. The creature bowed, his head low.

“See?” the demon said in a soothing voice. “I wouldn’t bow to you if I wanted to hurt you, now would I?”

The demon straightened, and Aziraphale found himself staring into unnaturally yellow eyes with slitted pupils. Aziraphale squeaked and renewed his efforts to escape, instinct kicking in.

“Fucks sake,” said the demon, but his tone remained gentle. He looked worried. “Who left you here? Why? I don’t understand. I'm so sorry.”

Aziraphale made a garbled sound around the gag, desperate to communicate, to talk to him.

The demon opened the satchel which hung at his side. “I know, I know. Settle down. Let me grab my picture board.”

The demon produced a piece of card with a series of simple drawings on it. It portrayed a snake-demon and a human traveling through a series of tunnels. Three symbols were drawn above it, connected by arrows – a sun, a moon, and a sun. At the end were two sketches. The first showed a human trying and failing to climb up to a cave opening, clouds, trees and rooftops visible outside. A sad face was drawn beside it. The second showed a similar scene, except a snake-demon was lifting the human up onto a high ledge so they could reach the exit. Happy face.

“So, you see?” said the demon. “You’re going to need my help to get out.”

Aziraphale made a frantic sound around the gag.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” The demon reached out and pulled the gag out of Aziraphale’s mouth.

“Oh, my goodness! I mean you no harm!” Aziraphale gasped. “Please untie me!”

The demon dropped the card in his shock. He stared at Aziraphale, a look of amazement in his strange eyes. “We talk the same language! That’s fantastic! You're the first sacrifice that could understand me. You're safe. I’ll help you reach the exit. The climb up the cave wall is too difficult for humans, so you'll need my help.” He bent down and picked up his card. “Please tell me at least some of that was clear from the pictures.”

Aziraphale swallowed. “I- Yes. Sorry. This is all rather a lot to take in.”

“Everything is going to be alright. I’m Crowley, by the way.”

“Aziraphale. Can you untie me, please?”

“Sure. Although I’m gonna have to frisk you first.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. He couldn’t remember what the word ‘frisk’ meant, but he remembered what ‘frisky’ meant and he didn't like the sound of it. Some of his fear must have shown on his face because Crowley hastily continued.

“Sorry, but I’m gonna have to frisk you. Pat you down for weapons. The last girl had a bread knife hidden in her belt.”

“Anathema! Is she okay?”

“Yeah. She’s fine. Long brown hair and round eyeglasses, right?”

Aziraphale’s heart was racing. “Yes, that’s Anathema! Where is she?”

“I got her to the exit. There’s a human village on the other side. I take everyone I find there. She was okay with me in the end, but I had a right time getting that knife away from her. Determined lady.”

“I’m so sorry. I hope she didn’t injure you.”

“No harm done.”

“Please don’t think badly of her. I’m sure she was just frightened. Thank you so much for helping her. She’s a dear friend of mine.”

Crowley shrugged. “I did what anyone in my position would’ve done.” Crowley gave Aziraphale an apologetic look before patting him down, hands brushing up and down his arms, legs, and sides. “Why are people being left tied up here, anyway? It's driving me nuts. Are you sacrifices? I don't want that. If you’re supposed to be sacrifices, then we should wait until your people come back. Tell them they need to stop. You speak their language, right? Can you speak on my behalf?”

Aziraphale felt a surge of panic. “I- I don't think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

Aziraphale hesitated, heart racing, but he found himself blurting out the truth anyway, or part of it at least. “They want me dead.”

Crowley looked horrified.

Tears blurred Aziraphale’s vision. “They think I'm a criminal. But they're wrong! I was falsely accused! I didn't even get a trial. I’m innocent, I swear!”

Crowley nodded. “And the others? Were they accused of crimes too? Is that why they were left tied up?”

Aziraphale nodded.

“That explains why none of them seemed to like the idea of hanging around for that boulder to roll back,” Crowley muttered. “Your friend with the knife, did she...” He made a stabbing gesture.

Aziraphale gasped at the insinuation. “No, she wouldn’t hurt a soul! Well, not unless she felt threatened, I suppose. But no. She was accused of being a witch.”

“What's wrong with being a witch?” Crowley asked in disbelief.

“Can you untie me please?” Aziraphale was feeling more anxious by the second. He didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“Sure. What did they accuse you of anyway?”

There it was. A fresh wave of panic washed over Aziraphale. “I’d rather not talk about it. It’s not true anyway.” His head was spinning, and he couldn’t think of a decent lie, but if Crowley kept prying, he'd have to come up with something.

“Okay. I’m sorry,” said Crowley. “Wait a minute... There was a boy. Maybe eleven or twelve? You’re telling me they sentenced a child to death? What was he accused of?”

“Stealing an apple,” Aziraphale muttered.

“Fucking hell. Your people are nuts. No offence.”

“No offence taken. I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to realise it myself.”

Aziraphale felt the ropes come loose and drop away. He rubbed at his sore wrists and then stepped away from the post, his hands shaking.

Something moved in the nearby shadows. Aziraphale gasped and backed away. It turned out to be the tip of Crowley’s tail, which, in all honesty, didn’t make him feel much better.

“I always assumed they were ritualistic sacrifices,” Crowley said, gliding backwards to give Aziraphale more room. “Like the locals thought I could make it rain or help the crops grow faster or something? Assuming they even knew I was here. It was clear none of you were volunteers though.”

Aziraphale dried his eyes on his sleeve. “From what I understand, the idea was to sacrifice undesirable people to the snake-demon in the cave so he wouldn’t terrorise the village. Although, in truth, I think the village officials simply wanted an excuse to get rid of people they didn’t like.”

“I’m so sorry you went through that. I'm not a demon, by the way. I'm a naga.”

Aziraphale was horrified by his own insensitivity. “I’m so sorry. Obviously I don’t think you’re a demon. I’ve never heard the word ‘naga’ before. You’re the only naga I’ve ever met.”

“It’s okay.” Crowley gave him a smile. “I'll take you to the exit. You’ll be able to see your friend.”

Aziraphale felt a stab of hope at the thought of seeing Anathema again. “Is it far?” The sooner Aziraphale stopped being a burden to Crowley, the better. He’d surely offended him enough already.

“It’ll take us a couple of days, I think. I tried to show that in the picture. The sun and moon repeated with arrows?”

“Ah! Yes. Of course.” Aziraphale bit his lower lip. They were going to be stuck together quite a while. “Are there other nagas here?”

“Nah. I'm the only one this far south.”

Aziraphale glanced at him, wondering if he could trust him. But surely if Crowley wanted to hurt him, he'd have done so already. The thought of finding Anathema and somewhere safe made his chest ache. He'd been so sure he was going to die.

“Are you hurt?” Crowley asked.

“Only my pride,” Aziraphale said with a weak laugh.

Crowley glanced at the stake Aziraphale had been tied to. “How long were you there?”

“A few hours, I think.” It had felt like forever.

A look of guilt Crowley’s face. “I’m so sorry you were stuck there for so long. I wasn’t expecting another person so soon. There’s usually at least a month between each one.”

“They decided to wait two weeks before bringing me here. They thought you might, er, not be hungry again for a while.”

“They think I eat people?!” Crowley looked mortified. He shook his head. “Absolute madness.”

“Madness,” Aziraphale agreed, as though he hadn’t believed the exact same thing not long ago.

“Naga eat the same food as humans,” Crowley explained. “I’ve got food and water stashed away in my camps around the cave system. And warm clothes if you need them. There’s food and water in my bag too. Would you like anything?”

Aziraphale suddenly realised just how hungry and thirsty he was. It must be well past lunchtime, and he hadn’t eaten anything since dinner last night. The food in prison had been meagre and unappetising, but to his surprise, Michaela - who he’d never particularly liked - had taken pity on him and occasionally smuggled snacks in for him. Aziraphale hadn’t been offered breakfast that morning, but he doubted he’d have been able to eat anything even if he had. Believing he was about to suffer a horrible death had rather ruined his appetite.

Crowley handed him a flask. The water was cool and refreshing, soothing his dry throat.

“Thank you,” said Aziraphale, conscientiously wiping the top of the flask before handing it back.

Crowley rooted about in his satchel. “I have bread and cheese. Oh, and some crab meat and cured herring if you fancy it?”

“Yes, please,” said Aziraphale. “I love seafood.”

New Haven was so far inland that seafood options were limited, especially in comparison to the seaside towns he’d stayed in during his travels. The fishermen of New Haven caught trout and eels in the river that ran beside the village, and occasionally, traders brought salted cod from the nearest seaside towns, but it was pricey due to the long journey. Aziraphale liked to save up his money and treat himself. Sometimes, he was even able to get his hands on mussels, crabs, and his favourite – oysters.

Aziraphale sat on a rock while they ate their makeshift lunch, glad to be able to rest his feet. He’d been stood for such a long time. Crowley simply sat back on his coiled tail, but he seemed more interested in talking than eating.

“Were people purposefully being sacrificed during the full moon, or was that just a coincidence?”

Aziraphale looked up from his bread and cheese in surprise. “Full moon? I didn’t see any mention of it in the archives. In fact, it must have been a coincidence. The full moon is associated with paganism, so I’m sure Gabriel – the village leader – wouldn’t have done it on purpose.”

Crowley nodded. “For a while, I thought sacrifices were only being left during the three-night window of the full moon. The boy - the second sacrifice – was definitely left during it. But the first sacrifice... I was too stressed at the time to pay attention to what day of the month it was, but after finding the boy I assumed she must’ve been left on the full moon too. There was about a month between them. When the orange hair lady arrived a couple of months later - also during that three-night window - that convinced me I was right. I made sure I was always nearby during those three days. I have a calendar, so I marked the days off on there. I thought it didn't matter how far away I was during the rest of the month.” Crowley let out a bitter laugh. “I was a fool. Luckily I was close enough to hear the boulder being rolled back when Anathema was brought here. I’ve stayed close ever since then, just in case. But I still managed to sleep through it somehow when you were left here. I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to apologise for. You've already gone above and beyond. Besides, you need rest just like everyone else.”

“Never thought I’d sleep through a racket like that though,” Crowley said. “The boulder is so loud when it's moved - the sound echoes for miles around. It vibrates through the ground. I can feel it. I did have strange dreams during my last nap though…”

Aziraphale found himself reminded of something he’d read in the archives. “It’s usually forbidden for people to go into the caves – hence the giant boulder – but according to the records, just over a year ago there was a report of noises coming from within. People were worried a child had found their way inside and gotten lost, so Gabriel decided to investigate. According to the archives, he found you asleep. I’m guessing you didn’t see him?”

Crowley’s eyes widened. “Someone was watching me sleep? Fucking creepy. I’m lucky I wasn’t murdered. Wait... What made him think he needed to wait two weeks before I’d be hungry again? Did something happen? Did-” he swallowed. “Did they come back once, and…”

“No! Certainly not. Nothing like that was mentioned in the records. No bodies found. It said Agnes Nutter was tied to the stake first. Adam – the boy - was next.”

Crowley nodded. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Then Tracy.”

“She must be orange hair lady.”

“And then my friend, Anathema, and then me. That's everyone.”

Crowley let out a breath he’d clearly been holding. “Well, that’s a relief.”

“And for the record, if anything awful had happened, it'd be Gabriel’s fault, not yours.”

A smile pulled at Crowley’s lip. “Thank you.”

They went back to eating, and it wasn’t long before Aziraphale was licking his fingers clean. He felt much better for having eaten something.

“I’ve got octopus tucked away at my next camp, if that’s something you like,” Crowley said. “Caught and prepared only yesterday. And some more bread.”

“Thank you for all of this.”

Crowley waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’m happy to help. And to be honest, it’s a relief to finally be able to talk to one of you and figure out what’s going on.”

The flask of water was passed back and forth between them a few more times before it was returned to Crowley’s satchel. “Are you ready to set off?”

Aziraphale climbed down from the rock. “I’m ready.”

Crowley unfastened the mushroom lantern from his bag and then thrust it towards Aziraphale. “Take this. Your eyes aren’t as used to the dark as mine.”

Aziraphale clung to the lantern like a lifeline.

Crowley uncoiled his tail, doing the naga equivalent of standing up. “C’mon. Let’s get you out of here.”

Aziraphale took one last look at the wooden stake, at the ropes and the gag abandoned on the ground beneath it, and then he turned away and followed Crowley towards the unknown.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the back of the cave. Aziraphale found himself at the place where he’d seen luminescent light coming from around a corner, suggesting a passageway. The same place where he first spotted Crowley. There was a large tunnel, wide and tall, the walls covered in algae. Or was it moss? It glowed a luminescent green, making the path seem eerie.

As they made their way along the path, Aziraphale found himself constantly glancing this way and that, trying to make sense of this strange and alien place. But his gaze always, inevitably, returned to Crowley. His half-serpent, half-human body was so surreal that he kept catching himself staring. Thank goodness Crowley didn’t seem to notice.

Crowley was nothing like the mindless monster Aziraphale had been led to believe. He was chatty, intelligent and kind. He was so… human, for lack of a better word. Aziraphale wondered if Crowley was being so talkative to put him at ease or if he simply enjoyed having someone to talk to. Probably a bit of both. It must be lonely in these caves all alone.

“Where are the other naga?” Aziraphale asked as they followed the curve of the passageway.

“Up north. In the opposite direction to the human village we’re going to. My lot rarely stray this far south, but these tunnels connect with their mountain ranges. It's just under a week’s glide for me to get there and back. There’s a market on the outskirts.”

“Do you go to the market?”

“Sometimes. When I'm not rescuing criminals,” he said with a chuckle before looking embarrassed. “Sorry. That was supposed to be a joke. I didn't mean- I know you’re not really a criminal. None of you are, probably. I’m glad to be able to help.”

Aziraphale smiled. But deep down he wondered if Crowley really believed him when he said he’d been falsely accused.

“I go to the market to buy supplies and to sell my wares,” Crowley said. “Many of the plants here are rare. I make medicine and stuff. Plus, it's nice to catch up on the latest gossip. I don’t go very often nowadays though. I don’t wanna risk sacrifices been left at the stake while I’m gone. Even if there’s only been a handful of you. It’s good to know that there will always be at least two weeks between each sacrifice. I suppose it’s because they think of me as being a snake? Adult snakes go a long time between meals.”

Aziraphale nodded, embarrassed by how animal-like the villagers saw him.

“Well, for the record, I’m a three-meals-a-day kinda guy,” Crowley said with a grin. “Plus snacks.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Snacks are very important.”

“Speaking off,” said Crowley. “We’re coming up to my camp. Octopus time.”

The camp had been set up in a small alcove in a wider section of the tunnel. The area was heaped with cushions and blankets, and in one corner sat several tightly sealed boxes and containers. Up ahead, the path split into two, one turning left, the other right. Crowley explained that one headed north to the market and the other headed south to the village exit.

“Make yourself at home,” Crowley said, curling up beside the boxes on a heap of cushions. “There’s a cloak in the corner if you get cold.”

Gingerly, Aziraphale sat down on the cushions, which were soft and plump with feathers. He felt glad to be able to rest for a while. They’d been walking for about twenty minutes, and although it was certainly chillier down here than it was on the surface, he’d warmed up so much from the excursion that he didn’t feel the need for an extra layer just yet.

Crowley handed him a flask of water. “This one’s yours. There’s a place an hour away from here with a proper water supply, but I’ve got water stored here too, so drink as much as you want. No need to ration it. Same with the food.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley opened up a box of chopped octopus tentacles and offered it to Aziraphale. While Aziraphale ate, Crowley searched through the pile of boxes and containers, looking for the bread.

Aziraphale found himself staring at Crowley’s tail, at the way the black scales shimmered in the light of the mushrooms that surrounded them. Aziraphale forced himself to look away.

“Sorry,” Crowley said with a sigh. “It looks like I’m out of bread. But- Aha! Salted rat!” Crowley offered him a skewer with roasted meat on it.

Aziraphale’s dismay must have shown on his face, because Crowley’s smile faded.

“You don't like rat?”

Aziraphale hesitated, not wanting to offend, trying to find the right words.

Crowley cringed. “Wait, do humans not eat rat? Shit. I've been feeding it to the others. Will it make them sick?”

“No,” Aziraphale said hurriedly.

“Oh, fuck, are rats sacred to your people or something?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. It’s just not something humans tend to eat. I was just surprised, is all.”

“It’s a delicacy for naga.”

It made sense, Aziraphale supposed. Snakes do eat rats. Or was it ignorant to compare nagas to snakes?

Aziraphale had travelled to many different places and tried many local delicacies. In one village, people had eaten snails with garlic butter – periwinkles, they called it - and in another, insects dipped in honey. He’d had haggis, which was cooked in the animal’s stomach, and he’d had blood pudding. All of it had been delicious. He liked trying new things, and why should this be any different? Besides, it didn't resemble a rat, and he was curious to know what it tasted like. The worry on Crowley's face made up his mind for him. “I’ve never had rat before. I’d like to try it.’

“You don't have to,” Crowley said.

“I like trying new things. I understand if you'd rather hang on to it, what with it being a delicacy. But I’d love to try some.”

“Have a little bit first, to see if you like it.”

Crowley gave him the smallest skewer in the box, and Aziraphale nibbled on a corner of the meat thoughtfully before devouring the rest in one bite. “Tastes like rabbit. Delicious.”

“Yeah, it kinda does. I like rabbit. I often buy it when I go to the market. The people in the village we’re heading to sometimes leave food out for me at the mouth of the cave. Rabbit pie is one of my favourites. And it means I don’t have to go to the market as often.”

“They clearly appreciate all of your help with the sacrifices.” Aziraphale couldn’t resist taking another skewer when it was offered. “Did Anathema have some rat?”

Crowley looked guilty. “Yeah. She seemed to like it. I should stop feeding it to them, I suppose. The new sacrifices, I mean. But they tend to refuse octopus.”

“Most people in New Haven haven't had octopus before. I doubt they even know what it is. I've had it several times while staying in seaside towns.”

“I'm glad I can learn all this stuff from you. It’ll make things easier in the future. Maybe you could teach me some words so I can tell them about the food? And reassure them that they’re safe. And tell them about the other village.”

“Of course. It's the least I can do. You’ve already done so much for me. And for the others. Thank you.”

“S’ no problem,” Crowley said with a shrug. There was an adorable blush to his cheeks, the praise leaving him flustered. It endeared Aziraphale to him all the more.

Aziraphale smiled fondly. Crowley really was quite sweet. And good-looking. He had such a handsome face. Aziraphale felt that familiar, unwanted stab of attraction and pushed it away, ignoring it as best he could. No good would come of it. This man wasn’t even human. Why did he always get such inappropriate crushes?

Aziraphale distracted himself by teaching Crowley a few words and helping him to pronounce them properly. Crowley took a charcoal pencil and a notebook out of his satchel and wrote out the words phonetically so he wouldn’t forget them. Aziraphale was impressed. Very few people he met on his travels were literate. The only people who could read and write tended to be wealthy merchants, the high born and holy men. Priests needed to be able to read the bible to their flock, and monks were the ones who copied out the bibles in the first place.

“Could you write out some messages for me to show them?” Crowley said. “To go with my picture boards?”

Aziraphale considered this. “I can, but most people in New Haven can’t read, so I doubt it’d help you much. It’s certainly worth a try though.” Aziraphale smiled. “Just in case someone I taught how to read steals an apple.”

Crowley snorted a laugh.

Aziraphale took the pencil, and together, they decided what he should write.

Chapter Text

By the time they set off again, Aziraphale had a warm cloak wrapped tightly around himself.

The next section of their journey went as smoothly as the first, although the tunnel eventually became so dark that Aziraphale wouldn’t have been able to see at all without the lantern. There weren’t any glowing mushrooms or moss here to illuminate the way, yet Crowley seemed entirely unhindered, zooming off ahead into the darkness while chatting away. Aziraphale realised with a jolt of amazement that Crowley could see in the dark.

“Can you slow down a bit? I can’t see very far ahead.”

“Oops. Sorry. It’s much brighter around this corner.”

Aziraphale kept his lantern raised high and was relieved when they rounded a tight bend and the tunnel was suddenly bathed in dull light. Before Aziraphale knew it, he was stepping into a wide cavern, pale sunlight shining down on them from a high ceiling. Mushrooms were dotted here and there, but not the glowing kind. There was even grass and a small tree trying it’s best to survive. At the end of a sloped path was a pool of water. Aziraphale squinted up at the ceiling, half expecting to see the sky, but all he saw was shadowy rock.

“There’s a crack up there leading outside, but it’s hidden by an outcrop,” said Crowley. He was wincing, shielding his eyes with a hand. “Rain gets in and feeds the pool, but the gap isn’t big enough for people to fit through. I slid up there once to have a look.”

“It’s so bright. My eyes have adjusted to the dark more than I realised,” Aziraphale said, still squinting.

There was a dark alcove several feet up off the ground, and Crowley quickly slithered over to it, his tail easily carrying him up and over the tall step. The space held a small collection of kitchen supplies – utensils, crockery, pots, jars and tins - and more blankets. Crowley grabbed a large cooking pot. “You hungry? I can make us some dinner if you’re happy to stay here for a while.”

“Oh, goodness, yes.” They’d spent longer at the last camp than either of them had intended, and Aziraphale was more than ready to eat again. He also liked the idea of a good sit down.

Aziraphale climbed up into the alcove and sat down on a heap of cushions, stretching out his legs. He remembered with a sudden stab of panic something he’d heard one of his captors say: that naga could be killed by direct sunlight. “Are you safe here? Will it get any brighter?”

Crowley had settled down right at the back where it was darkest. His slitted yellow eyes reflected the light, making them seem to glow. He was no longer squinting. “Nah, I’m fine. This is about as bright as it gets in here.”

“Phew. The people in my village said that sunlight can kill you. Is that true?”

Crowley scoffed. “Nah. It just hurts our eyes. I only leave the cave system at night. It’s far too bright for me during the day, although late evenings and early mornings are sometimes okay. There's a beach at the exit where I like to go fishing.”

Relief flooded through Aziraphale, and then the rest of what Crowley said sunk in. His eyes widened with hope. “A beach? Is it a seaside village we’re headed to?”

“Yep. The exit opens up onto a beach and the village is next to it.”

A smile spread across Aziraphale’s face. He’d missed the ocean. New Haven was quite far inland. “I like being next to the sea.”

“So do I,” Crowley said with a smile.

Crowley carefully lit a fire and then went down to the water’s edge to collect some water. He set his pot over the fire. “Don’t worry. Any smoke will find its way up to that crack in the ceiling, but there shouldn’t be much.”

Aziraphale peered at the fire more closely. Crowley wasn’t using wood or even coal. Instead, there were several dark bricks. “Peat bricks?”

“Yeah. It’s easier for me to get hold of than wood. Plus, it barely gives off any smoke and it burns longer. There are several bogs in the cave system where I can harvest and dry it. It’s mostly made from the moss that grows everywhere down here.”

“The moss that glows green?”

“Yeah, but it definitely doesn’t glow once it’s part of the bog.” Crowley looked up at him, a grin on his face. “It’d be fun if it turned the flames bright green though.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “That’d be spooky.”

“Big spooky fan, me."

Once the water came to a boil, Crowley set some aside to use as drinking water, and then he filled the pot with cubed fish, dried rosemary, chopped onions and even a few mushrooms – thankfully not the glowing kind.

While dinner simmered, Crowley pulled down a wooden box and removed the lid. It contained a pack of playing cards, a pair of dice, several sparkly marbles, and some black and white counters with noughts and crosses carved into them.

“Tic-tac-toe!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “I’ve not played that in years.”

Crowley flipped the lid of the wooden box over, revealing a Tic-Tac-Toe board. He made an amused sound. “We call it Tic-Tac-Tail. Or noughts and crosses.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve heard it called noughts and crosses up north.”

They played a few games of noughts and crosses - which Aziraphale mostly won as he’d learned all the tricks as a boy - and then they moved onto a game of two-player solitaire.

“It’s nice playing this with someone else,” Crowley said as he placed another card. “I usually just play the solo version.”

“I haven’t played it in a long time. In the pub, we mostly just play poker…” Aziraphale drifted off, stomach twisting as he remembered his old life, evenings spent playing cards with Peter the butcher and a few of the local farmers. He swallowed. “How high up is the exit?”

“Um. You see that outcrop over there covered in grass? About that high, I’d say.”

Aziraphale judged it to be the equivalent of trying to get up onto Anathema’s cottage roof. “That is rather high, and unfortunately I’m not much of a climber.”

“Doesn’t make a difference if you’re a climber or not. There aren’t enough hand holds. The humans always give it a try, but they can’t even get a third of the way up. They just slip back down. I need to lift you up on my tail. I can glide up there, no problem. My tail is pretty strong, and my scales have good grip.”

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley’s tail. His chest felt tight at the thought of being lifted by it, of touching it. He didn’t feel disgust, only a fear of the forced intimacy of it, the guilt that would come from touching any bare part of this man’s body.

“What's the village like?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley shrugged. “I don’t know. I've never been inside. It's a human place and I wouldn't want to intrude. But I know it’s there. I can see rooftops and chimneys. I don’t want to risk frightening or angering anyone by sauntering into town. The people aren’t as scared of me now as they used to be, but they still keep their distance for the most part.”

“I suspect you’re the only naga they’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah, that’s my thinking.” Crowley tilted his head thoughtfully. “When I first arrived at the exit and went out onto the beach, there were children playing in the sand. Their parents were nearby, and they grabbed their kids and ran away as soon as they saw me. I was surprised by how scared they were. And they were shouting in a language I didn’t know. I expected them to board up the exit or something to keep me away, but they never did. Then, when people started being left tied at the stake… Well, it seemed the best place to take them. It’s definitely quicker than going to the market. It takes me three days to reach the market, but I think it’d take a human at least four.”

“You considered taking the others to the market?”

“Yeah. Humans attend the market too, but they speak the same language as me. So I figured the seaside village would be more likely to speak their language.”

Aziraphale nodded in agreement. If things didn’t work out in the seaside village, maybe he could go to the market instead. He’d be able to interact with the humans there. Maybe find his way to some of the villages he’d visited many years ago.

He wondered what language they spoke in the seaside village. Was it the same one they spoke in New Haven? He hoped so for everyone’s sake.

Crowley checked on the stew, stirring it with a wooden spoon while Aziraphale looked at the playing cards, though his mind wasn’t really on the game.

Crowley hunched over the pot. “I can still remember how nervous I was, leaving that first person on the beach. She was a strange one. Clearly shocked by my appearance, but she trusted me immediately. It was the same when she set off towards the village - she was clearly nervous, but she marched away like she knew she’d be okay.” He let out a laugh. “I wish I had her confidence.”

“Agnes Nutter. I read about her in the archives at the village hall. She was accused of being a witch too.”

Crowley shook his head. “Wow, they really hate witches, don’t they? Or is it just strong women they don’t like? I saw Agnes again the following night. I went out onto the beach as soon as the sun went down, and there she was with a fresh loaf of bread for me. It was her that started the gift giving tradition.”

Hope flared in Aziraphale’s chest. “You’ve seen the other sacrifices since dropping them off? They’re okay? Have you seen Anathema?”

“I haven’t seen Anathema, but that’s probably only because I didn’t hang around for long. I left the day after dropping her off. I wanted to make sure no one else had been left at the stake. But I’ve seen all the other sacrifices since dropping them off, so that’s promising. Apple Boy leaves me drawings, and Orange Hair Lady comes closer to me than any of them. Hands me jars of jam and plates of food. Sometimes even a cooked dinner! I wish I could talk to them.”

“I’ll translate for you,” said Aziraphale. “You’ll be talking to the sacrifices in no time. And the locals too - assuming I speak their language. Have you noticed if the sacrifices and the locals talk to each other?”

Crowley bit his lower lip thoughtfully. “I’m not sure. I’ve definitely seen the sacrifices hanging out with the locals, but I don’t know if they were chatting. The sacrifices spend a lot of time together. Or at least, they’re often together when they bring me food. I’ve seen the boy playing with local kids, but I’m not sure if there was much talking going on.”

“Well, I’m glad Adam has made some friends, at least. It sounds like the sacrifices have plenty of freedom.”

“Yeah. They seem happy.”

Aziraphale smiled. Hopefully, he’d be happy there too.

But as they finished up their card game and Crowley spooned the stew into two bowls, Aziraphale found himself worrying. It sounded like the sacrifices were treated well. They certainly weren't prisoners, from what Crowley had said. But how much freedom did they really have?

And what about the next ‘criminal’ that New Haven sent through? Surely they’d tell everyone his crime. It would be their word against his. Until even more people came through and immediately told the same story of the raid on his home and the homoerotic book. The thought of Anathema finding out made him feel sick.

Did the locals know the sacrifices were criminals? It was possible Agnes had confessed the truth, fearing that murderers would be sent through next. Were criminals tried properly in this village? Things like stealing an apple would surely be forgiven, and witchcraft and prostitution weren’t crimes everywhere. Anathema and Tracy would hopefully be okay. But homosexuality? That was a crime everywhere he'd ever been.

He told himself it’d be okay. At the very least, no one would know what he’d been accused of when he first arrived. The other sacrifices had no reason to reveal to the locals that they were criminals. None of their crimes were bad enough for them to want to risk their own safety to incriminate others. Especially considering most of them appeared to be friends. He couldn’t imagine Anathema revealing why Tracy had been sentenced to death, for instance. Besides, the sacrifices all seemed to have their freedom – they certainly weren’t locked away in some prison - so they must be looking after each other and keeping each other’s secrets. There was also the possibility of a language barrier stopping anyone from confessing all to the locals.

If worst came to worst, perhaps he could take Anathema, Tracy, and Agnes - and even Adam - up north to the naga market and beyond. He could find a town he knew, a place where they might remember him and welcome him with open arms, a place that spoke the same language as the others.

Oh, but he hated the thought of stealing away the people that left Crowley food. He hated the thought of leaving Crowley. If Aziraphale left, who would teach Crowley how to speak New Haven’s language? He wanted to get to know Crowley better. But he feared his secret being revealed. He couldn’t share any of these concerns with Crowley, not without telling him why he’d been sentenced to death.

Aziraphale took some comfort in the delicious meal, savouring every bite, and by the time they’d finished eating, it was a struggle to keep his eyes open.

“You look exhausted. Maybe we should get some sleep.”

A part of Aziraphale wanted to argue, to insist that they keep moving and cover more ground. But he was so very tired.

He reached for his pocket watch and remembered too late that it’d been confiscated – stolen – when he’d been thrown in prison. The timepiece had been one of his most prized possessions, along with his books.

They were all gone now.

“What time is it?” Aziraphale asked, feeling miserable. They’d only just had dinner. It couldn’t be much past 6pm.

Crowley pulled an ornate gold pocket watch out of his own pocket, far fancier than the nickel model Aziraphale had owned, and flipped open the lid. “It’s a little after 8pm.”

“Good grief! That went fast.”

But the light coming from the ceiling had long since faded. They must have been playing games far longer than he’d realised. And earlier, when they’d stopped to eat octopus and rat, Aziraphale had spent time teaching Crowley phrases and writing out messages on cardboard. The walk through the cave system had been interrupted by constant stops to admire plants and insects - which Crowley had eagerly told him all about. It must’ve taken longer than he’d thought.

“Get some rest,” Crowley said gently. “You’ve had a busy day.”

Crowley handed over some fresh blankets and pillows, and Aziraphale prepared a makeshift bed beside the fire. Crowley curled up at the back of the alcove, his long tail coiled up beside him, only his face poking out from a mountain of blankets.

As much as Aziraphale thought he could trust Crowley, it wasn’t until the naga was snoring gently that he felt comfortable enough to let himself drift off. But even then, he faded in and out of sleep, unable to relax, unable to stop his brain from running in circles. He was scared of what his future held, of what would happen when he reached the village. And stupidly, foolishly, his thoughts kept coming back to his pocket watch and all the other possessions he’d never see again. What did they matter, really? They were just things. And yet, the thought of entering this village with nothing but the clothes on his back made his throat feel tight.

He woke up at some unknown hour, his feet cold from where they’d been sticking out of the blankets. His face was wet with tears. He pulled his feet in under the blankets and stared into the embers of the fire which had almost burned down. He wept quietly.

“Are you okay?”

Aziraphale froze.

“It’s alright,” Crowley said, his voice soft. “Bad dream?”

“I… I don’t-” Aziraphale’s breath hitched. “I can’t stop thinking.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Aziraphale didn’t say anything for a moment. He couldn’t mention even half of what was worrying him, not without revealing far too much. “It’s only just sunk in. All of the things I’ve lost. My home. My possessions. All my books. I had so many books.” He laughed, fresh tears falling. “Silly really. To be crying over books after everything that’s happened.”

“It’s not silly. You’ve had your entire life turned upside down. Anyone would be upset.”

Aziraphale dried his eyes on his sleeve. “I didn’t really think about my possessions while I was in prison. Didn’t seem important when I thought I was going to die.”

“I can’t even imagine what that must’ve been like. I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through. I’ll buy you some new books from the market. We can build your collection back up again.”

Aziraphale smiled, surprised by Crowley’s generosity. Books were expensive. “That’s very kind of you.”

“You like reading, huh?”

“Oh, yes. I was a traveling storyteller before I settled in New Haven. I went from town to town, meeting new people and collecting books along the way. I read stories out loud in town squares and gained quite the audience - adults and children. I even told stories of my own adventures in faraway places.”

“It sounds like a fun way to earn a living.”

“It was. People would throw coins into a bowl, but I did it mostly for the love of it. I found work as a scribe or a translator in most towns. Sometimes a tutor. And I helped write up legal documents, that sort of thing. Most people - humans - can’t read or write, you see, so it’s a useful skill to have.”

Crowley tilted his head. “You mentioned that earlier. Naga are all taught how to read and write at school as children. But we’re only taught one language. How many languages do you know?”

“Five.”

Crowley looked impressed.

“My parents taught me,” Aziraphale said. “Their hometowns had different mother-tongues, but they spoke a few languages each. They both worked as scribes, which was how I learnt. They’re no longer with us unfortunately.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Crowley.

Aziraphale’s mother had always known he was different. She’d had male friends in her youth that were like him. She’d told Aziraphale to be careful and that she loved him, no matter what. All she’d ever wanted was for him to be happy.

“They were good people,” Aziraphale said finally. He pulled the blankets closer around himself, realising that he’d shared more with Crowley in the last few minutes than he had during the entire time they’d known each other.

“Are you cold? I’ve got more blankets...” Crowley shook out another blanket and handed it over. “I’ll build up the fire and make tea and coffee. Are you ready for breakfast?”

“Breakfast? What time is it?” It was so dark that Aziraphale had assumed it was still the early hours, but then again, they were in a dark cave.

“Just before ten.”

“Good grief! I’m normally an early riser.” He must’ve had more sleep than he’d realised. It’d been more than twelve hours since they’d gone to bed.

“You can go back to sleep if you want.”

“No. Um. A cup of coffee would be just the ticket.”

Crowley stoked the fire and put some water on to boil before taking something down from a shelf cut into the cave wall. It was a box, and he took something out of it. “In the meantime… Er.” Crowley slid closer, scales glinting in the firelight. He was carrying something small and oblong. He held it out. “It’s stories about naga. Fairytales. I don’t know if it’s really your sort of thing, but… yeah. Keep it. Consider it the first book in your new collection.”

Aziraphale took the book and stared at it, open-mouthed. It was bound in leather, the cover beautifully ornate. “Oh, Crowley, I couldn’t. You’ve done so much already. I can’t take this from you. I would love to read it though, if that’s okay.”

Crowley laughed. “Of course it’s okay. It’s yours if you want it. I’ve read it so many times I know it off by heart. I want you to have it.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “Thank you.”

Crowley opened a tin of coffee granules and started to prepare breakfast while Aziraphale read by the light of the fire.

The first story, ‘Little Red,’ was about a naga girl with a red tail. She was travelling at night through the forest on her way to her grandmother’s cave when a wolf chased after her. Luckily, a naga woodcutter rescued her just in time. The story was beautifully illustrated.

At first, the illustrations were a horrible reminder of the homoerotic drawings which had revealed his secret, but soon he was fully immersed in the story, his problems seeming to fade away as he became lost in the pages. Books had always been a welcome escape for him.

He'd just started the second story, ‘Snow White and Rose Red,’ about a young naga girl with a white tail and her sister with a red tail, when a cup of coffee and a slice of fruit cake were placed before him. Aziraphale put the book aside and gushed to Crowley about how wonderful the storytelling was, how clever the book binding, and how intricate the woodprint illustrations. Next, he gushed about the delicious coffee and cake.

“Right,” said Crowley once breakfast was finished. “It’s a two-hour slither to the next proper camp. Here are our options. Either we have lunch here and then have dinner when we get to the next camp. Or we set off asap, have a late lunch at the next camp, and then we have dinner at the camp after that. It all depends on how much walking you actually want to do today and how quickly you want to get to the exit. Sorry, we’re a little behind schedule. It’s definitely gonna take longer than I thought.”

“Don’t apologise. Any delay is entirely my doing, what with my long breaks and my very long sleep.”

“Don’t forget all that time you spent kindly teaching me how to speak another language and beating me at Tic-Tac-Tail. Still, I don’t suppose there’s any need to rush. Although I’m sure you’re eager to get out of these caves and back into the sunshine.”

Aziraphale considered this for a moment. “To be honest, I’m rather enjoying the journey. I’ve never been anywhere like this before. It’s fascinating.”

Crowley looked genuinely pleased. “With the other sacrifices, if they’re okay on their feet, I usually rush us along a bit because, you know… scared humans that I can’t actually hold a conversation with. Well. Unless we resort to charades and pictionary. But yeah, I’m happy either way. Whatever you want to do.”

“Well, it might be nice to stay here and rest my feet for a bit. Unless you need to be getting on?”

“Nah, it’s all good. There are jobs I can do at every camp. I need to check the crab traps here before we go. I can pick mushrooms, boil some water ready for the next time I come through, that sort of thing.”

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Of course you have tasks you need to do. Let me help.”

Crowley put on a wide brimmed hat to shield his eyes against the pale light. He gave Aziraphale a winning smile. “Nah. You read your book. You’ve been eying it up all through breakfast.”

Aziraphale hoped Crowley hadn’t noticed him eying up anything else. “Well, let me help you with the traps at least.”

“Sure. They’re just down here.”

Crowley slid down from the raised area and made his way towards the water’s edge, pulling the hat’s brim down low. Aziraphale felt a stab of guilt as he followed close behind, careful to avoid Crowley’s long tail. “I suppose you usually do these things in the middle of the night, so you don’t have to worry about the sun.” His eyes widened as realisation dawned. “Wait… Do you usually sleep during the day? Are you nocturnal? Oh, goodness, I’m making you ruin your routine. It must be entirely back to front!”

Crowley laughed and then shushed him with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Calm down. My sleep pattern is already messed up.”

Aziraphale wrung his hands together. “Because of the sacrifices? Oh, Crowley.”

“No. It’s because I love napping. I sleep whenever I feel like it and for as long as I want.”

“Well, I suppose- But please let me know if you need a nap. I hate to think of how much I must be putting you out.”

“You’re not. Honestly. It’s nice to have some company.”

Aziraphale’s heart fluttered at the words.

The first of the two traps was empty, but the second contained a few small crabs which they took back to camp. Crowley went off to pick mushrooms, insisting that Aziraphale stay behind and read. Aziraphale settled down in the blankets with his book and a cup of tea.

Crowley returned with a basket full of mushrooms – the non-glowing kind – just as Aziraphale was finishing up the last story. They worked together to make lunch, frying crabcakes and mushrooms. Aziraphale looked after the food while Crowley packed away the rest of the mushrooms and then rechecked his supplies, taking notes in his notebook.

Once they’d eaten and done the washing up, Crowley gave Aziraphale a shoulder bag to keep his things in. It was soon filled with his flask, a supply of raisons, and his one and only book, wrapped in cloth to protect it.

Once the fire had died down, they set off.

During the journey, Aziraphale recited several stories he’d learnt off by heart a long time ago, and then he regaled Crowley with stories of his own travels. Crowley hung onto his every word, fascination in his eyes, and Aziraphale was reminded of the crowds in town squares that used to gather around to listen to his tales. Maybe crowds would gather once again, in this new village by the sea.

The next camp was a small one in the corner of a large cave with a high ceiling. It didn’t have a natural water source. Instead, there was a barrel with a tap. They settled down in a makeshift kitchen area, and Crowley started a fire.

Eager to be useful, Aziraphale peeled and chopped some potatoes, some of which were sprouting eyes. They were boiled and then fried with butter, salt and pepper.

Aziraphale let out a happy sound as they ate. “Did you grow these potatoes yourself? They’re delicious.”

“They were given to me by the villagers. I’ve tried growing my own, but there isn’t enough sunlight down here. Not even in the caves with decent soil and gaps in the ceiling. I used to get my potatoes from the market up north, but I don’t go there as much as I used to. Especially now the villagers leave food out for me.” He chewed industriously, lost in thought for a moment. “I’ve been considering growing potatoes and other vegetables next to the beach. There seems to be decent soil near the cave exit. I’d have to get rid of the bushes and shrubs first, but… well, I don’t know how the villagers would feel about me digging up their land. They use that beach during the day. I don’t want to offend.”

“I’ll ask them about it. And if I don’t know their language, there’s always pictionary.”

Crowley let out a laugh. “Thank you. I bet you won’t have to resort to pictionary though. Even if the locals don’t speak New Haven’s language, I wouldn’t be surprised if you happen to know their language anyway. Mr I-Know-Five-Languages.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Good lord. Perhaps I’ll end up swapping between three different languages – yours, the locals, and the sacrifices. That would certainly keep me on my toes.”

They played a few rounds of poker and blackjack before going to bed. This time, when Aziraphale drifted off to sleep, it was to thoughts of a new life. Of telling stories to the villagers on a sunlit beach with Anathema at his side, of earning a living as a scribe or a teacher, of spending his evenings helping Crowley tend to his new vegetable patch beside the beach.

He slept right through the night and woke up feeling revived.

Chapter Text

After breakfast, they started their journey to the next campsite. It was Aziraphale’s third day in the cave system.

“This next one’s my main camp,” Crowley explained as they travelled, side by side, along a wide tunnel. “Once we get there, we’ll be half-way through our journey. If we sleep there and then set off first thing in the morning, we should get to the exit by late afternoon tomorrow.”

The tunnel was long and winding, lit by glowing mushrooms and moss. Glow-worms dotted the high ceiling, shimmering like stars. As their journey progressed, Aziraphale became aware of a distant thundering noise. The sound of rushing water.

They emerged into an enormous cavern. Aziraphale’s eyes were immediately drawn to a waterfall at the far side, water cascading into a large pool before rushing off somewhere out of sight. Light found its way from the ceiling, illuminating the greenery that grew at the water’s edge and making the water sparkle. Aziraphale had seen waterfalls before, but never within a cave.

Aziraphale blinked as his eyes adjusted to the pale light, amazed by this underground paradise. Beside him, Crowley picked up a hat from a hook at the end the tunnel, putting it on to shield his sensitive eyes.

“This place is stunning,” said Aziraphale.

“Yeah,” Crowley said with a grin. “That’s part of the reason why I chose to make it home.”

Aziraphale turned, taking in the entire space. Crowley’s living area was at the back of the cavern, far away from the waterfall. It was separated from the rest of the area by thick curtains. A washing line stood nearby, laden with clothing and blankets which carried the scent of soap. Crowley led them over and pulled aside a curtain, gesturing for Aziraphale to step inside.

Trinkets and boxes sat on shelves cut into the wall. The flat surface of a rock was being used as a table, the start of a patchwork quilt thrown over it. A box of sewing supplies and several squares of material sat nearby, along with a shirt with a small hole in it, ready for darning. At the back of the space were two large alcoves, the curtains of which had been tied back, revealing heaps of cushions and blankets. Bedrooms, Aziraphale realised. Perhaps Anathema had slept in one.

Crowley cleared the table and then prepared a cold lunch of sliced meats, cheese and bread. To Aziraphale’s delight, they had an apple each for dessert.

“Adam leaves me apples all the time. Hopefully not stolen ones nowadays,” Crowley said with a chuckle. “I’ll give you a tour of the garden if you like. Show you all the plants I grow.”

Aziraphale eagerly accepted.

The garden circled the pool and vanished into a sheltered cave behind the waterfall. Crowley told Aziraphale all about the flowering plants and the lush ferns, which luckily didn’t need much light to survive. Seeing him so animated and happy as he spoke made Aziraphale smile. The cave behind the waterfall held a collection of plants, and Crowley explained that he used them to make antiseptic salves, which he sold at the market. There were cultivated mushrooms in the cave too, which were a dark rich brown colour and the size of dinner plates.

“They look like they’d be delicious in a soup…” Aziraphale hinted, not at all subtle.

Crowley snorted a laugh. “They definitely wouldn’t. They’d make you really ill if you tried to eat them. We dry them out and then smoke them in pipes. One of the traders at the market sells them for me.”

Aziraphale’s eyes went wide. “You sell drugs?”

“Er…” Crowley’s smile vanished. “They're safe. Super safe. It’s like tobacco. Or alcohol. You’ve had those before, right?”

Aziraphale nodded.

“It relaxes you, but it also makes you feel tipsy. So long as you don’t eat it, it’s all good.”

“Do you ever smoke it yourself?”

“Sometimes,” Crowley admitted. “I haven’t recently though. I don't want to risk needing to help a human get through here while I’m essentially drunk, you know? I’ve not had any alcohol recently for the same reason.”

“Is it safe for humans?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yeah. Humans buy it from the market all the time. I’ve seen them smoking it.”

“Can- Can I try some?”

Crowley grinned. “Of course! We can have some after dinner if you like?”

“That sounds marvellous.”

They did some gardening together, pruning, watering, and pulling out weeds. The pale light that shone down on them was barely bright enough for Aziraphale to see by, although Crowley still had his hat on. Aziraphale had his lantern of bioluminescent mushrooms beside him the entire time, and Crowley brought him another lantern, this time with a flame inside. Candles were another thing the villagers gifted him, but Crowley didn’t have many. Aziraphale tried to refuse it, feeling guilty for using up Crowley’s valuable resources, but Crowley insisted.

“You might as well use it. I have no need for bright lights.”

Once they were done with the gardening, Crowley wiped his brow and then looked Aziraphale up and down. “We’re both covered in dirt. We should probably wash our clothes. I have a spare shirt you can wear. I’m sure it’ll be plenty long enough for you.”

For a moment, Aziraphale wondered why Crowley had mentioned the length, but then he realised it wasn’t like the naga would have spare trousers.

There was a little pool downstream where Crowley suggested they take turns bathing. Crowley sent Aziraphale down there with a towel, a dark-grey shirt, and a bar of soap. It was surrounded by rocks, offering some privacy.

The water was cold, but Aziraphale was so hot and sweaty from the work that he found it refreshing. Still, it was a relief to towel himself dry and put on the thick cotton shirt that Crowley had lent him. It came down to his knees. Aziraphale sat down by the fire a short distance away from Crowley’s living area and dried his hair with a towel. Crowley glided off to have a bath. Aziraphale watched him go, mesmerised by the way the muscles of his tail flexed as he moved. It wasn’t long before Crowley returned, fully dressed and with his long hair wrapped up in a towel on top of his head. He combed and dried it beside the fire. Aziraphale did his best not to watch the way Crowley’s hair curled up again as it dried, instead focusing on the fairy-tale book on his lap.

“I think I’ll wash our clothes now,” Crowley said. “So long as you don’t mind waiting for them to dry. They’ll definitely be dry by tomorrow lunchtime. It means we’d probably have to set off a bit later than we’d discussed though. It takes laundry longer to dry down here than it would outside, but I’ve got plenty of spare clothes to keep us going.”

“I don’t mind waiting at this camp for a while,” Aziraphale said, looking up from his book and instantly finding himself distracted by Crowley’s new hairstyle. He’d only ever seen Crowley with his hair loose, but now he had it half up, half down, and it looked incredibly flattering. Aziraphale looked away and busied himself with setting aside his book and putting on his sandals. “I’ll help.”

Aziraphale took down the laundry already on the line while Crowley washed their dirty clothes in a wooden bucket full of soapy water. Together, they hung everything up to dry.

Crowley grinned at Aziraphale. “Let’s go choose something for dinner.”

They made their way over to a thick curtain hung over what seemed to be a tunnel. Crowley pulled the curtain aside, revealing a walk-in larder. The shelves contained jars, tins and tightly wrapped parcels. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling.

“The humans gave me everything on this side,” Crowley said, gesturing to several shelves. He picked up a jam jar and opened the lid. “This is my favourite jam, but I don’t know the flavour.”

Aziraphale sniffed it, and then Crowley handed him a spoon. Aziraphale tasted it and his eyes drifted closed with delight. “Raspberry.”

“Huh. Never heard of raspberry before. Kind of fruit?”

“Yes. They’re like strawberries but smaller.” Aziraphale promised himself he’d bring Crowley some fresh raspberries one day.

They decided on a cured beef and barley stew for dinner. After they’d finished their bowls, Crowley fetched a small parcel from the pantry.

“This cake was a gift from the villagers.” Crowley unwrapped the waxed paper, revealing a fruit cake with a pattern etched on top in white icing. “I've already had a slice. What's wrong?”

Aziraphale’s hand had gone up to his mouth and there were tears in his eyes. He took the cake from Crowley with shaking hands. “Anathema made this. It's her special recipe. She always decorates the top like that.”

“Really?” Crowley looked at the cake in awe. “Wow. She settled in fast. I found this cake at the cave entrance the morning after Anathema arrived at the village. I always check just before I leave. Her first night in a new village and she sets about baking a cake.”

Aziraphale laughed, overwhelmed. “Maybe she stayed with someone - Madame Tracy, perhaps - and they baked it together. This must be her way of saying thank you.”

Crowley smiled, looking genuinely touched, and then he cut the cake in half. They ate it together, and it was all the more delicious for knowing who made it.

That evening, Crowley lit a pipe of the tobacco-like chopped mushrooms. The pipe was passed back and forth between them as they sat side by side in front of the fire. It didn’t make Aziraphale feel all that different. He wasn’t drunk. But he felt more relaxed than he had been in a long time, the anxiety he’d been feeling ever since his arrest finally vanishing.

“I’ve got lots of this stuff ready to sell,” said Crowley. “Maybe I’ll go to the market soon. Take some jars of antiseptic salve with me too. Whatever I can carry. Would be nice to see Eric again. And his siblings. They sell my stock for me. They’re my friends.”

“How come you left?” Aziraphale asked, full of curiosity. He’d been wanting to ask for a while but hadn’t wanted to pry.

Crowley didn’t reply at first, and Aziraphale worried he’d crossed a line. Crowley took another puff of the pipe. “People in charge are arseholes.”

“Ah, yes, that does seem to be a reoccurring problem.”

“They're always at war with the neighbouring towns. I was sick of it. I'm not a coward,” Crowley added defensively. “I just don't see the point in putting my life on the line and trying to kill some poor bugger I don't even know. Especially when the whole reason we’re at war in the first place is because Ligur got wasted and stole a whole flock of sheep. Fuck. And another time – a different village – it was because Hastur – our leader - set a nunnery on fire!”

“Good grief!”

“And,” Crowley said, getting really riled up. “There was this one village we were chummy with – a centaur village. They were our main ally and a good source of trade outside of the market, and-”

“Centaur? I'm sorry, I don't know that word.”

“Centaurs. Half human, half horse.”

“Oh, yes! I didn't know the name for them in your language.”

“What are they called in your language?”

Aziraphale looked embarrassed.

“It's horse-demon, isn't it.”

“I'm afraid so,” Aziraphale said sheepishly. “What are centaurs like? I've never met one before, although I did see one at a distance once when I was passing through a forest. Gave me quite a shock. She had short black hair, and the horse part was black with fluffy fur around the bottom of her hooves.”

“Huh. Sounds like Beelz. She's the second in command of the centaurs after Luci.”

“My goodness! She just glared over her shoulder at me and then stomped away.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Bee. They were our best allies and Hastur threw it all away!”

“What happened?”

“Hastur happened, that’s what. They were playing cards – for money - and Luci won. Hastur got angry and called him a wanker.”

Aziraphale gasped.

“But Luci just laughed it off and scooped up the cash he'd won.”

“Oh?”

“So then Hastur said, ‘But you can't be a wanker, can you. You can't bloody reach!’ and just starts laughing.”

Aziraphale’s brow creased in confusion before realisation dawned. “Oh! Oh, no! They can’t…?” He felt his cheeks heat up.

“Their bits are all the way at the back so...” Crowley made as though to reach behind himself. “Can't reach with their hands or hooves apparently. So I’ve heard.”

Aziraphale let out a shocked laugh. He felt a stab of pity. Imagine not being able to touch yourself? He’d go insane.

“So then Hastur asked Luci if Beelz takes care of it for him or of he's reduced to grinding up against a tree.”

Aziraphale covered his mouth with a hand and let out a shocked snort.

“So, yeah. A fight broke out and now they're at war. Eric told me all about it. The market is held on mutual ground, fortunately. Eric always keeps me up to date. He said Dagon – one of our lot - is extra pissed off about it because she’s chummy with Bee.”

“Oh, dear. That's awful. I hope they can put their differences aside.”

“So do I.”

“Hastur sounds frightful. What does he look like? What do they all look like? You're the only naga I've ever seen.”

“Hastur’s tail is toad green, and his hair is white. Ligur’s tail is iridescent - there’s so many colours in it you might think he was part chameleon. Dagon’s mother is a naga and her dad is a nereid - You'd probably call them fish-demons or something. They have fish tails.”

“Oh! Mermaid! Mer-people. Or siren. There are stories of them luring boats onto rocks with their beautiful song.”

Crowley cackled. “Dagon wouldn't be able to lure anyone anywhere with her singing. In fact, I'm sure she'd only frighten people away.” He shook his head, a smile on his face. “Her tail looks like any naga tail, but her scales are more fishlike. Smaller and silvery-green. And she has some scales on her skin too. She's a very strong swimmer. As for Eric and his identical siblings - their tails are black like mine only without the red.”

“What about the Centaur leader? What does he look like?”

“Fur as red as my hair. Would you call it fur? Hair? And cloven hooves.”

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. “The centaur I saw – Bee – she was wearing a black shirt and a red sash. And she had a blanket over her back. Do they all dress like that?”

“Yeah, they refer to them as robes. Can't go around with their arses hanging out, now can they! Bee is the only one allowed to wear a red sash, by the way. It shows that she's a Prince. So it was definitely her you saw if she was wearing the sash.”

Crowley shifted, rearranging his tail. Aziraphale stared at it, thinking about all the different colours naga tails could be. The red seemed extra vibrant in the light of the fire.

“What do scales feel like?” Aziraphale wondered out loud.

Crowley gave a casual shrug. “You can touch my tail and find out if you like.”

Feeling daring, Aziraphale leaned closer and touched Crowley's knee. Or at least, where Crowley's knee would be if he had knees. The scales were smooth to the touch.

“Can you feel it?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yeah, of course.”

“What does it feel like? Would it feel the same if I touched your arm?”

“I’ll show you. Give me your hand.”

Aziraphale held out his hand, palm down, and Crowley took it, holding his hand so gently it made Aziraphale’s heart race. He found himself staring at Crowley's black fingernails, which were the same black as his scales.

Crowley ran a fingertip over Aziraphale’s thumbnail. “It feels like that. Same kind of pressure. I think this is the best way to describe it to someone who doesn’t have scales. They say scales are made out of the same stuff as fingernails.”

Crowley let go of Aziraphale’s hand, and Aziraphale instantly missed his touch. He could still feel the heat of his skin against his own. It had been so long since anyone had touched him. He glanced at the length of Crowley's tail and wondered what it would feel like to straddle it. Aziraphale’s cheeks burned. He hoped Crowley didn’t notice.

But Crowley wasn’t looking at his face. In fact, his gaze had dropped to Aziraphale’s bare feet. Aziraphale was still wearing Crowley’s long black shirt, and he’d set aside his sandals. He had his legs stretched out on the blanket, warming his feet by the fire.

Aziraphale wiggled his toes and saw Crowley’s eyes widen. Crowley looked intrigued, but then his head snapped up. He was blushing. “Sorry. I haven’t seen feet close up before.”

“It's alright,” Aziraphale said quickly. “I don't mind.” And he really didn't. After all, he was equally fascinated by Crowley’s tail, and he found he was rather enjoying the attention.

“I didn’t know you could wiggle your foot-fingers.”

Aziraphale laughed and wiggled them again. “We call them toes.”

“They're more like hands than I realised.”

Crowley shuffled closer. For a moment it seemed he might reach out and touch, but then he drew his hand away.

“You can touch them if you like,” Aziraphale said, eager to return the favour, and then, feeling brave, he moved one foot towards Crowley, lifting it up for him to inspect.

There was curiosity in Crowley’s yellow eyes as he ran a finger over the top of his foot, and then, with a look of resolve on his face, he cupped Aziraphale’s foot firmly in one hand before carefully poking his toenails, which were neatly trimmed, though they were currently longer than he usually kept them. Aziraphale’s stomach fluttered at the innocent touches, a shiver shooting through him as fingers brushed his ankle.

“It's amazing, the way humans walk. Very elegant. You skip from foot to foot like it's nothing at all. So well balanced. And when you run! It looks so difficult! Was it hard to learn how to walk?”

“We learn when we're very young, but it certainly takes a bit of practice.”

“Do you remember learning?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “No. I would have only been about one year old.”

“So young!”

“Humans crawl before then.” Aziraphale felt his cheeks flush at the thought of being on his hands and knees for Crowley.

Crowley lifted Aziraphale’s foot higher, inspecting the underside. “The palms are so soft.”

“It’s called the sole of the foot. And mine are soft because I always wear shoes or sandals. If I made a habit of going barefoot then the skin would be thicker.”

“Must be weird having two legs, like having two tails.”

“I’m used to it,” Aziraphale said with a chuckle.

Crowley placed Aziraphale’s foot back on the blanket. “Thanks for letting me look.”

Aziraphale smiled.

He wanted to kiss him.

Crowley flopped onto his back. He looked sleepy, but his eyes were open, gazing up at the ceiling. Aziraphale looked up too.

Night had long since fallen. Gemstones in the ceiling sparkled in the flickering firelight.

Aziraphale laid down beside Crowley. “They look like stars.”

“Yeah.”

“What are they?”

“We call it fool’s gold.”

They moved a little closer together until Aziraphale’s leg was pressed against Crowley's tail. He kept it there defiantly, and Crowley did not pull away.

Aziraphale felt happy and content as he drifted off to sleep.

***

It took Aziraphale a moment to remember where he was.

There was a fire crackling beside him, and in the distance he could hear the steady rumbling of a waterfall. A blanket had been draped over him at some point during the night, and the thought of Crowley doing that, of going out of his way to keep him warm, made his heart ache.

Crowley was curled up beside him, hugging the end of his tail in the same way that Aziraphale might hug a pillow. He was fast asleep, and the look of innocence on his face was so endearing that Aziraphale found himself unable to look away. Delicate freckles were scattered across his face, mostly on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Aziraphale had never noticed them before. Crowley truly was stunning.

Memories of last night came flooding back, and Aziraphale grimaced, closing his eyes against the shame of it. What had he been thinking? He’d been flirting outrageously, finding excuses to touch Crowley and then inviting Crowley to touch him in return – to touch his bare foot no less. The mushrooms had clearly affected his judgment more than he’d thought. They must have lowered his inhibitions and stripped away his common sense. This was exactly why Aziraphale didn’t drink – or at least not in excess. He should have known the mushrooms could have a similar effect.

Had Crowley noticed? Had he worked out that he wasn't normal? Aziraphale needed Crowley’s help to survive down here and get to the village. He needed to be careful, to not offend him, to not give Crowley any reason whatsoever to hate him.

Crowley stretched with a yawn, his tail uncoiling. Aziraphale’s heart leapt into his throat, but Crowley seemed just as friendly and cheerful as ever - maybe even more so - chatting away as he made omelettes for breakfast. If Crowley had any suspicions about Aziraphale’s sexuality he certainly didn't voice them.

Little by little, Aziraphale relaxed until he felt completely at ease again, his indiscretions pushed to the back of his mind but not forgotten.

Chapter Text

After breakfast, Crowley worked on his patchwork quilt while Aziraphale supplied him with coffee and conversation.

The laundry was still slightly damp. Aziraphale didn’t mind wearing borrowed clothes, but he very much wanted to be wearing trousers when he arrived in the village. Therefore, they’d decided to set off tomorrow. He didn’t mind the delay to their journey though, and his anxiety from that morning had quickly faded. He was enjoying spending time with his new friend.

Shortly before lunch, Aziraphale went down to the water's edge, eager to get another look at the pool. He left his sandals on the shore as he waded into the shallows, lifting his borrowed shirt slightly so it wouldn’t get splashed. The sand felt good between his toes. It reminded him of lazy days spent walking barefoot along far away beaches. The thought that he would soon be in a new seaside village had him buzzing with nervous excitement.

He looked over his shoulder and saw Crowley in the distance, only just visible behind a series of jutting rocks. He was stirring a pot of soup for their lunch.

He turned back around just in time to see something move beneath the surface of the pool, something big and long. It shimmered silver under the water as it moved closer. An eel perhaps, but he’d never seen one so large.

The creature wasn't coming towards him, instead aiming for a deeper section of the pool near the water's edge. But Aziraphale still rushed out of the water, his bare feet leaving wet prints on the rock as he backed away.

The creature vanished from view, and then, a moment later, there was a splash as something broke the surface. Aziraphale couldn’t see it. His view was hidden by a tall rocky ledge around that part of the pool. He didn’t dare step any closer.

A woman’s face appeared over the top of the ledge. Two haunting ice-blue eyes stared at him. Aziraphale felt so shocked that he tripped over his own sandals and only just managing to stop himself from falling.

Another splash, and she surged up to sit on the ledge. She had long slicked-back hair tied up in a ponytail, and her skin shimmered silver in patches across her face, arms and torso. A dark length of cloth was wrapped repeatedly around her chest, creating a halter-neck top. Another length of material was wrapped around her waist, and below that, Aziraphale could see scales. A naga then. Aziraphale wondered vaguely if Crowley was as good at swimming as her.

“Who are you then?” asked the naga, eying him suspiciously.

“Oh. Er. Hallo!” Aziraphale said, feeling overwhelmed. “I'm Aziraphale. Lovely to meet you.”

“Where's Crowley? What’re you doing in his caves?”

“I'm just- Crowley's back there,” Aziraphale said, pointing behind himself. “Crowley!” he shouted over his shoulder, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice. At least he'd resisted the urge to shout for help. “We have a visitor!”

The woman slithered further up onto the ledge, her long tail curling beneath her. “Hi, Crowley! It's me, Dagon!”

Of course. Crowley had mentioned someone named Dagon who was half naga, half nereid. No wonder she was a good swimmer.

Crowley zoomed out from behind the rocks where he’d been stirring the soup, and Aziraphale immediately dashed to his side, feeling safer now he was here.

Crowley didn't look happy to see Dagon. He lifted himself high on his tail, suddenly several feet taller than Dagon. Aziraphale was put in mind of a cat trying to make itself look big.

“I'll tell you what I told Hastur - I'm not coming back! I live here now. I'm sick of the constant fighting. I'm more useful here anyway. I can farm and-”

“Woah. Chill. I'm only here to see if you can sell me some of those mushrooms. Eric's sold out. Said he hasn’t seen you in a while, so I thought I'd better come straight to the source.”

“Oh,” said Crowley. He lowered himself to his usual height. “Er. Yeah. I’ve got some ready somewhere. Sorry I've not visited the market in a while. Been busy.”

Busy helping people like him, Aziraphale thought. Crowley couldn't leave the sacrificing cave unattended for long. At least he now knew there would always at least two weeks between each sacrifice. Crowley could get some of his freedom back.

“No worries,” said Dagon. “And I don't blame you for leaving anyway. Hastur and Ligur are getting on everyone's tits. It’s infuriating, being stuck with those two idiots in charge.”

“Tell me about it,” Crowley said with a sigh. “I've got some soup on the go. Fancy joining me and Aziraphale? There’s crusty bread.”

“Yeah. I'm ravenous. Even with the underwater passageways, this route takes ages.”

Crowley led them both over to where the soup was bubbling away. Aziraphale surreptitiously admired Dagon’s tail, which was similar to Crowley’s except she had fins on her sides and on the end of her tail. She looped her tail under herself in order to sit down, just like Crowley did. Aziraphale sat with his back against a large rock.

“So, Aziraphale,” Dagon said once she had a bowl of soup balanced on her scaly lap. “Are you one of those sacrifices Eric was talking about? I thought you couldn’t speak our language?”

Aziraphale paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. He didn’t blame Crowley for telling Eric about the sacrifices, but it was disconcerting to know that strangers were gossiping about the situation. No doubt Dagon would repeat everything she learnt today to Eric later. “Er… yes. I speak many different languages. Crowley is helping me get to a nearby human village.”

Dagon looked fascinated. “Were you tied up like the others? Why-”

“C’mon, Dagon,” Crowley cut in. “Don’t grill him. Aziraphale has been through a lot. He was captured by some complete bastards and left in the caves. Aziraphale is the first one I’ve been able to talk to, so he’s helping me figure out how to make things easier for any other humans that get left here.”

Aziraphale was relieved that Crowley hadn’t mentioned the bit about them being criminals.

Dagon gave Aziraphale an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

Aziraphale forced a smile. “It’s quite alright.”

It was a relief when Crowley changed the subject. “How are things with the centaurs? Any improvements?”

Dagon snorted irritably. “Well, there’s not been any battles recently, so that’s something. I’ve been meeting with Bee in secret to try and organise a truce, but all attempts at a reconciliation have failed so far. Luci is too proud, and Hastur is too stubborn.”

“I take it no one has challenged Hastur’s leadership?”

“Nope. No one dares. He’s too strong. Plus, him and Ligur fight dirty as Hell. There were rumours that Usher was going to challenge Hastur to a dual, but he mysteriously died.”

“Poor bastard.”

The conversation moved on to less gloomy things, and once they’d eaten lunch, Crowley brought out a jar of dried fruit slices, mostly apples and pears. Next, he brought out a large bag of dried, chopped mushrooms.

“How much do you want?” Crowley asked.

“I'll take the lot,” said Dagon, pulling a big oilskin bag from her belt along with a money bag. “It should all fit in here.”

Crowley seemed lost for words for a moment.

“I've almost run out,” Dagon explained. “And I said I’d grab some for Eric if I could.”

“Five gold coins should cover it. Consider it a bulk buy discount.”

“Cheers,” said Dagon as she handed over the money. She smiled, revealing a row of sharp teeth, and then she tucked the mushrooms away in her bag, sealing it up tight for the long swim ahead of her. “Well, I’d best be off.”

“Already?” Crowley said. “You’re welcome to sleep over. You’ve got a long journey ahead of you.”

“Thanks, but I’d best not. Stuff to do. It’s been good to see you though. And it was nice to meet you, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Nice to meet you too.”

Dagon got up.

“At least let me give you some supplies for the journey,” said Crowley.

Once Crowley had given Dagon as much food and water as she could comfortably carry, she made her way down to the pool and soon vanished beneath the surface with a splash.

Aziraphale and Crowley spent a lazy afternoon fishing at the water’s edge. Aziraphale found it relaxing, chatting away while waiting for the fish to bite, and when he actually caught something he was so thrilled he couldn’t stop smiling. It felt good to have contributed something. He cooked his catch for dinner, feeling immensely proud of himself.

After eating, they played chess and then decided to have an early night so they could set off early the next day.

This time tomorrow, Aziraphale would be in the seaside village, and the very thought of it made his stomach flip.

They took a bedroom each. Aziraphale closed his curtain, enjoying having some privacy for once, but it was still reassuring to hear Crowley snoring softly nearby. The bed of cushions was soft and comfortable, and the blankets were warm and cosy. Tired from his exciting day, Aziraphale fell into a deep sleep.

***

After a quick breakfast the next morning, they set off again, carrying supplies with them in order to stock up Crowley’s camps along the way with food and water. Aziraphale was back in his own clothes, and it felt good to be wearing trousers again.

He couldn’t believe it was his fifth day in the cave system. Especially considering the entire journey was only supposed to take two days. To be fair, they hadn’t done any travelling yesterday, spending the entire day at the waterfall camp. They’d stayed a while at almost all of Crowley’s camps so far.

They moved along a wide path, an underground river rushing along beside them. Aziraphale kept as far away from the water’s edge as he could, keeping close to the wall. Crowley glided along beside him, seemingly unphased by the choppy water.

The path narrowed, forcing them to travel in single file. Aziraphale was in the lead, and the path was so damp in places, he had to watch his step. Crowley kept close to the wall too, and Aziraphale feared that if even a small section of his tail fell into the water, it would take the rest of him with it. The thought made his heart ache.

“You see that bend in the path up ahead?” Crowley shouted over the sound of the river. “That’s where the path widens again. We'll only be this close to the water for a few more minutes, and then it’ll vanish underground.”

Aziraphale clung to the wall with one hand as he stepped over a large rock. A spider the size of his fist crawled over his fingers. He stumbled back with a yelp, lost his footing, and suddenly the ground was vanishing beneath him.

Aziraphale hit the water. The shock of it, the cold of it, knocked the air out of him.

Aziraphale was a decent swimmer. He'd grown up near a lake and had lived by the sea for a number of years, but the shock of the cold left him unable to move let alone swim, and all he could do was bob to the surface and try to keep his head above the water, stealing desperate breaths whenever he could, his limbs not working properly. His sodden clothes felt impossibly heavy, weighing him down. Dragging him down. He forced his limbs to move, trying to swim against the current. He was aware of shouting, of splashing, and then something wrapped around his waist and yanked him through the water. He was convinced it was a sea serpent dragging him down to the murky depths, and he struggled weakly against it. He found himself lifted up out of the water, and he realised it was Crowley’s tail wrapped tightly around him.

Crowley was on a low ledge, just below the path, dangerously close to the water. He was panting, a terrified look on his face.

Aziraphale was lifted even higher, and then he felt solid ground beneath him. Crowley’s tail uncoiled, and Aziraphale was left shaking on the path. The cold was unbearable. Aziraphale opened bleary eyes and saw Crowley pulling himself back up onto the path. He wanted to help, wanted to pull Crowley to safety, but he couldn’t get his limbs to move.

Crowley bent over him. “Oh, shit. Aziraphale? Say something!”

Aziraphale tried to reply, but his teeth wouldn't stop chattering. He started coughing and couldn’t stop.

Crowley’s hands were on him, clinging to his dripping clothes. “Can you stand? Fucking hell, you’re freezing.”

Crowley hauled Aziraphale to his feet, but his legs were shaking so badly it was a struggle to keep upright. It was too cold. All he wanted to do was curl up into a ball on the floor. He tried to sit back down, his muddled brain telling him that’d be better.

“No. C’mon. We need to get you somewhere warm and dry.” Crowley glanced back the way they'd come but then looked ahead instead, a determined look on his face. “It isn’t far. I'll carry you.”

Aziraphale found himself wrapped up in coils and then lifted from the floor.

“It's just a little way,” Crowley said. “I've got you. Everything is going to be okay.”

Aziraphale was dragged behind Crowley, held tightly in his coils, and then, once the way widened, Crowley sped up. Aziraphale’s eyes drifted closed.

“Aziraphale!”

Crowley was shaking him, panic in his voice.

Aziraphale reluctantly opened his eyes. They were in a chamber, the river barely audible. There were blankets and kitchen supplies against one wall and the remains of an old fire beside them. Bioluminescent mushrooms gave everything a blue glow.

“We need to get you out of those wet clothes and warm you up.”

Crowley’s tail unwound from him, letting the chill air in. Aziraphale reached out feebly, wanting to pull Crowley’s tail back around himself, desperate for the warmth it had provided.

“Can you-? Are you able to undress?” Crowley said.

Aziraphale stared at him for a moment until the words sank in. “Yes,” he said. Numb fingers went up to unbutton his shirt.

Crowley turned away and busied himself with sorting through the blankets, purposely not looking.

Aziraphale’s fingers weren't working. They were shaking too badly. He gave up on the buttons and tried to pull his shirt up and over his head instead. It was wet and heavy, and in the end, Crowley had to help him get out of it.

The cold bit into his newly bared skin, and then a blanket was wrapped around his shoulders and another around his damp hair.

Aziraphale knew that his trousers were going to have to come off next and he felt a stab of embarrassment at the thought of it. But he was too cold to worry too much about modesty. His hands dropped to the belt around his waist.

Crowley rubbed at Aziraphale’s upper arms, trying to warm him up, but then his hands froze. His grip tightened. “You’re bleeding.”

Aziraphale was surprised to see blood staining the damp material of his trousers across his upper thigh and groin. “Oh... oh, no.”

“Does it hurt? Can you feel it?”

Aziraphale’s teeth were chattering. “No. I feel numb all over. From the cold or adrenaline, I don’t know.”

He was still struggling with his belt when nimble fingers pushed his hands out of the way and unfastened it for him. His trousers and underwear were pulled down his legs carefully. Aziraphale lifted his hips as best he could, trying to help, heart in his throat, scared to discover how badly he’d been injured. He felt a sharp sting on his inner thigh and let out a hiss. He opened his mouth to say where the injury must be, but stopped when Crowley drew in a sharp, horrified gasp, his eyes wide.

“I'm sorry. I’m so sorry. Something's happened to one of your- It's gone.”

Aziraphale looked down, bracing himself for the worst, convinced in that moment that something had happened to one of his balls, but they looked perfectly alright. Even his cock, small from the cold, looked okay. He didn't understand what Crowley meant. His face heated up at how on display he was, and he wiped away the blood on his groin and thigh, uncovering a small cut, which really had no business bleeding quite so dramatically. Really, it was little more than a graze.

“I- I think my only injury is this cut on my thigh. Everything else seems in order.” Aziraphale covered himself over with a blanket, trying to preserve some dignity.

Crowley shifted backwards and averted his eyes. “Sorry, I didn't mean to draw attention to it. Is it an old injury? Sorry. None of my business. I'll fetch some more blankets and start a fire. That'll warm you up. How are you feeling? Any better? You've got more colour in your face so that’s promising.”

“Old injury? I don't understand. Everything looked okay...” He felt the ridiculous urge to say that his cock was usually bigger. The cold had shrunk it. He kicked his trousers off the rest of the way and his sandals with them.

Crowley frowned. “Do humans only have one?” Crowley’s eyes darted to Aziraphale’s groin, hidden under the blanket, and suddenly Aziraphale understood.

“One penis?” Aziraphale asked. His eyes widened. “Do naga have two?”

Crowley’s cheeks were red. He nodded. “I know yours don’t retract into your body like ours do, but I thought- Sorry. I heard Centaurs only have one, but I didn’t know- Sorry. I’ll just-” Crowley spun away and started rooting among his stash of blankets again.

Why did naga have two cocks? He tried not to think about it. And then all he could think about was the fact that Crowley must have two cocks hidden away under his long shirt, or perhaps under his scales. What had he said about retracting?

Crowley wrapped more blankets around Aziraphale and replaced the one on his head with a dry one. He then went off to start a fire.

Aziraphale watched as Crowley put some water on to boil. “You really have two?” he heard himself say.

“Yeah. Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed...”

“It's okay. Must have been quite a shock to think one of mine was missing.”

“You're telling me,” Crowley said with a weak laugh. He opened his satchel and pulled out a jar. “This is antiseptic salve. Put it on the cut. It’ll help it heal.”

Aziraphale rooted about under the blankets, keeping himself covered while he applied the ointment. Crowley turned away and busied himself with pouring the heated water into a large wooden bowl. He added some soap and then started to scrub at Aziraphale’s wet trousers.

“Don’t worry about my clothes,” Aziraphale said.

“I need to wash the blood out before it stains.”

“Oh. Good thinking. Thank you.”

“There’s a slight rip but nothing a quick bit of darning can’t fix,” Crowley said, inspecting his trousers closely. He hung Aziraphale’s clothes near the fire to dry.

Aziraphale suspected he’d cut himself on a rock, either when he first fell or while he was struggling in the water. It was all such a blur.

“What happened to the bag I was carrying?” Aziraphale asked, his heart in his throat. Had his book fallen into the river?

“You dropped it on the path. It’s still there. I was more worried about getting you somewhere safe. I’ll go back for it later.”

“What about your bags?”

“I’ve still got my satchel. The bag I was carrying in my hand- I think it went over the edge.”

Aziraphale made a sound of dismay, guilt making tears spring to his eyes.

“Doesn’t matter,” Crowley said quickly. “It’s just a bag. It only had a few snacks in it anyway. I’ll replace it. It’s all replaceable. You’re the only thing that isn’t.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I’m just glad you’re okay. That’s all that matters. Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

Aziraphale shook his head.

“How are you feeling?”

“Embarrassed. And a bit chilly. But I do feel better. Thank you.”

Crowley moved closer and pressed a hand to Aziraphale’s forehead. “You're freezing. Can I- Would it help if- Body heat, you know?” he shuffled closer, lifting an arm hesitantly in the offer of an embrace.

Aziraphale swallowed. “I think it would help. So long as you don't mind.”

Crowley pulled Aziraphale into his arms, and Aziraphale melted against him, feeling Crowley’s tail curl around him.

“You frightened the life out of me,” Crowley said after a moment.

“Sorry. I rather frightened myself.”

“All over a bloody spider.”

“It was quite a large spider,” Aziraphale said defensively. “And it caught me by surprise.”

Crowley snorted a laugh.

“Thank you for saving me,” Aziraphale said.

“S’nothing.”

“It wasn't nothing. I’d have been swept away. Drowned. You put yourself in danger.”

“Nah. I was fine. Knew what I was doing.”

Aziraphale felt overwhelmed with adoration. He felt so safe in Crowley’s arms. It’d been such a long time since he'd last felt this way about someone. His feelings must have shown on his face somewhat because Crowley suddenly became flustered and turned away to stoke the fire. Aziraphale bit his lower lip and ducked his head, feeling ashamed.

How would Crowley feel if he knew he were attracted to him? Not only were they both male but they were from different peoples. Maybe he'd want to throw him back in the river.

But after stoking the fire, Crowley held him just as tightly as he had before.

They stayed in front of the fire, the heat of the flames slowly warming Aziraphale through. Crowley's embrace offered both heat and comfort, and Aziraphale soon fell asleep in his arms.

Chapter Text

Crowley stared into the flickering flames, listening as Aziraphale’s breathing level out. He held him tight as he slept, wanting to keep him safe and warm, determined to protect him.

The memory of Aziraphale’s fall into the river flashed before his eyes and he shivered. He’d felt so helpless as he’d watched Aziraphale struggle against the current. Grabbing Aziraphale with his tail had been reckless – he’d risked being dragged under himself - but he’d acted on instinct, desperate to do everything in his power to rescue his new friend.

Aziraphale was important. He could help Crowley communicate with the sacrifices and hopefully with the seaside villagers too, but it was more than just that. Crowley had grown fond of Aziraphale over the last few days. He enjoyed spending time with him.

He hadn’t realised how lonely he was out here.

He’d wanted to get away from it all. From Hastur’s tyranny and the constant fighting. He enjoyed the peace and quiet in these caves. He adored the plants and the scenery. And then the sacrifices had started appearing and now he felt trapped here. If he didn’t rescue them, they’d suffer a slow and horrible death. They needed him. But it was such a huge responsibility.

Aziraphale shivered in his sleep, and Crowley rubbed at his blanket-covered arms to warm him up. Aziraphale didn't belong down here in the cold. He deserved to be in the sunshine and the open air. Crowley should have gotten him to the exit ages ago. He’d delayed their journey on several occasions, all so he could listen to Aziraphale tell stories around the campfire or take him gardening and fishing. It felt good to have someone to talk to and share meals with, but it’d been selfish to keep him here longer than necessary. Crowley would make sure that Aziraphale was with other humans as soon as possible. He knew, deep down, that Aziraphale’s tumble into the water wasn't his fault, but he resolved to take better care of him all the same.

Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered open, and he glanced around the chamber blearily, cuddling up closer to Crowley as he did so. Crowley’s heart fluttered with affection, but when their eyes met, Aziraphale quickly drew away, pulling the blankets tightly around himself. He looked embarrassed.

Crowley drew back too. “How’re you feeling?”

“Much better, thank you. Just a bit groggy.” Aziraphale’s skin had regained its colour, but his hands were still cold judging by the way he was wringing them together. “How long was I asleep?”

“About an hour. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Please.”

Crowley slid over to the fire and put some water on to boil before fetching some extra blankets and clean clothes. Aziraphale’s own clothes were still damp where they hung beside the fire. It was typical that they’d be ruined straight after they’d had a wash at his main camp. At least he’d gotten the stain out. He could darn the trousers later.

Crowley looked away while Aziraphale got dressed, focussing all of his attention on making the tea. He'd seen far more than he’d had any right to already, and he felt deeply ashamed of the things he'd said about Aziraphale’s body. He never knew when to keep his stupid mouth shut. Damn his questions. He’d been so shocked by all that blood that it’d made him fear the worst. Aziraphale must think he was rude and ignorant.

Aziraphale settled back against a blanket-covered rock, and Crowley finally allowed himself to turn back around and face him, cups of tea in hand.

Aziraphale had made a cocoon out of the blankets, and the collar of his black cotton shirt was just visible, dark against his pale skin. A hand emerged from the blankets to take one of the cups, revealing cuffs with a red hem. The sight of Aziraphale wearing his clothes, the intimacy of it, made Crowley’s pulse quicken.

And then Aziraphale beamed at him.

Crowley would do almost anything for that smile. It made his heart skip every time he saw it, and Aziraphale smiled more and more every day.

Crowley was smitten. There were times when he wondered if Aziraphale felt the same. It was in those fond smiles and the lingering gazes. Although those long looks might simply be down to Aziraphale being intrigued by his tail and slitted yellow eyes. Crowley couldn't be sure. He could have sworn Aziraphale was flirting with him when they were smoking mushrooms though. Still, he mustn't get ahead of himself. Aziraphale had believed Crowley to be a monster only a few days ago. He’d been terrified of him. Fuck knows how he’d feel if he found out Crowley had a crush on him. Aziraphale was relying on him to get to the human village, so he needed to be able to trust Crowley completely. He needed to feel safe. Crowley needed to keep his inappropriate feelings to himself.

Although if Aziraphale made a move… Well. How could anyone be expected to resist that?

There was little chance of that happening now though. Not after his idiotic comments.

Aziraphale held the steaming mug with both hands, using it to warm his fingers as he lifted it to his lips and took a sip. His eyes drifted closed as he gave a blissful sigh. “Mmm. Chamomile. Thank you. It’s just what I needed.”

Crowley gave him what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug. “Glad you like it. Will you be okay for a few minutes while I go fetch your bag?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you so much. I hope the book is okay.”

Crowley hoped so too.

He rushed back to the spot where Aziraphale had fallen in. The ground was still wet, and Crowley shuddered at the memories it stirred up.

Aziraphale’s shoulder bag lay on the path where it’d fallen. Crowley had been so focused on getting Aziraphale somewhere safe and dry that he’d ignored all else. Luckily, Aziraphale had been wearing it on one shoulder instead of diagonally across his chest like Crowley liked to wear his, or it would’ve ended up in the water with him.

Crowley tugged open the bag and drew out the cloth covered book, letting out a sigh of relief at finding it dry and undamaged. His water flask and snacks were okay too. The bag itself had nothing more than a few droplets of water on the outside of it. Crowley’s own satchel had ended up soggy from the rescue, but most of the contents had survived. He’d left it drying next to Aziraphale’s wet clothes. The bag Crowley had been carrying in one hand, full of food, had unfortunately ended up in the water. He’d dropped it without a second thought when he’d first made a lunge for Aziraphale. Even with that loss, they should still have plenty of food to keep them going.

He hurried back to their camp, and soon Aziraphale was holding his book close and smiling brightly. Crowley wanted to give him more gifts, more books. Expensive as they were, it’d be worth it to see Aziraphale’s face light up like that again. For now, Crowley settled for giving Aziraphale the gift of biscuits. Aziraphale happily devoured a few, washing them down with a second cup of tea.

Aziraphale was soon back to his old cheerful and talkative self. The blankets dropped from his shoulders as he warmed up, the firelight casting a warm glow over his expressive face.

“How’s your leg?” Crowley asked over the rim of his cup.

“Much better, thank you. I checked on it while you were kindly fetching my bag. It’s stopped bleeding. It’s honestly little more than a scratch. I’ve put extra salve on it, just to be on the safe side.”

Crowley resisted the urge to apologise for his earlier blunder again. He didn’t want to embarrass Aziraphale any further. “I’m glad it’s getting better.”

They finished their chamomile tea and then they washed their mugs using the last of the hot water.

Crowley checked the clothes that had been hung up to dry. “Ugh. They’re still absolutely drenched. But I don’t want to risk moving them closer to the fire in case of sparks.”

“Never mind,” said Aziraphale, helping himself to another biscuit from the open container.

“If you’re feeling up to it - and if you don’t mind wearing your current clothes for a while - we could set off again. Take your damp clothes with us and dry them out at the next camp instead? Get ourselves closer to the exit?”

Aziraphale would surely want to reach the village as soon as possible. Especially after his ordeal today. And he’d want to be in his own clothes when he got there. Crowley could darn his trousers quickly once they were dry.

Aziraphale looked disappointed. “Oh. You want to start moving again?”

“We don’t have to if you don’t feel up to it.”

“I feel up to it. I just assumed we didn’t have enough time to get to the exit today.”

“I don’t think we do. I’m really sorry.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “I don’t know what you’re apologising for. You’re not the one who threw themself into a river.”

Crowley snorted a laugh. “What do you want to do then?”

Aziraphale thought about it for a moment. “Truth be told, I’d quite like to stay here. It’d be a shame to put out the fire so soon after having lit it. And is that a backgammon board I spy?”

The corner of Crowley’s mouth lifted into a grin. “Yeah. Fancy a game?”

Aziraphale nodded eagerly.

Crowley smiled to himself as he pulled down the backgammon set. He’d been so busy blaming himself for slowing them down that he’d entirely forgotten just how happy Aziraphale was to sit around, talk, and play games. Clearly Aziraphale wasn’t in any rush to finish their journey either.

***

After such a distressing morning, Aziraphale was more than happy to spend the entire day relaxing in front of the fire.

They did the washing up together after dinner, and Aziraphale was putting away the crockery when he found a bottle of red wine. He looked at the label. “Oh! I’ve had this one before. They sell it in the northern villages.”

It’d been years since he’d last seen this brand of wine. No one sold it this far south.

Crowley came closer. “Oh, I bought it months ago at the market. The trader said it was a fancy human wine. Is it good? I haven’t tried it yet.”

“It’s delicious.”

“Do you want to open it?”

“Oh, yes please. Unless- Were you saving it for a special occasion?”

“Nah. To be honest, I'm not really one for drinking alone. It’ll be nice to have someone to share it with.”

There weren’t any wineglasses – here or in the rest of Crowley’s camps – but Aziraphale did find a couple of goblets while Crowley uncorked the bottle.

Just the scent alone made Aziraphale’s mouth water, and the first sip had his eyes closing in bliss. The wine was perfectly chilled from where it’d been stored against the cool rock, and the flavour was just as sharp and tangy as he remembered.

“Mmm. Fruity,” said Crowley. “I’ll grab another bottle next time I’m at the market. Are all human wines this good?”

“I wish they were,” Aziraphale said with a laugh. “This one is a firm favourite.”

They spent the next hour drinking. Aziraphale paced himself, making sure not to drink too much. He didn’t want a repeat performance of the night they smoked mushrooms. He made sure to take sips of water from his flask every now and then, wanting to play it safe while still allowing himself to indulge.

Before long, the chunky goblets were abandoned, and they started drinking straight from the bottle, passing it back and forth between them. They sat side-by-side with their backs against the rock, practically shoulder to shoulder. Aziraphale had a blanket over his lap to keep his bare legs warm, part of the blanket draped over Crowley’s long tail.

Aziraphale wiped the top of the bottle conscientiously before handing it back to Crowley, a pleasant buzz thrumming through him. “How do you carry things home from the market? Everything must get rather heavy. Wine bottles, cooking pots, food…”

Crowley took a swig from the bottle. “Strapped to my back or my tail mostly. Stuff like furniture and crab traps I put together when I get here. I try not to carry too much at once. And I strategically drop stuff off at my camps to collect later. I have a wooden sled that I pull with my tail, but it’s kinda big and unwieldy, so I only use it when absolutely necessary.”

“Goodness, your tail must be ever so strong.” Aziraphale glanced at the long curve of it, remembering what it’d felt like to be pulled out of the water.

Crowley gave a modest shrug. He was smiling and blushing.

Aziraphale reached for the bottle, leaning in close to Crowley without even thinking about it. A little gasp escaped Crowley, and then Crowley’s lips brushed against his own.

Aziraphale flinched away, too startled and surprised to know how to react.

“Sorry,” Crowley gasped, a look of horror on his face. “I thought you were leaning in. But you were only reaching for the bottle... Shit.” Crowley shuffled away. He put the bottle down between them. “I’m sorry. Can we pretend I didn’t do that? I wasn’t thinking.”

It took a moment for Aziraphale to find his voice. Crowley was just like him. “It's okay.”

“No, it isn’t. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry.”

“I...” Aziraphale’s heart was racing. “It was nice.”

Crowley stared at him, and then a hopeful smile tugged at the corner of his lip. “Yeah?”

“You just caught me by surprise. I didn't think you... I mean, we’re both...” Aziraphale couldn't even say it.

“Different species?” Crowley finished quietly.

“We’re both men.”

Crowley’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Does that bother you?”

“No, it doesn't.” Aziraphale couldn't hold it in. Tears welled in his eyes. “It's- It’s illegal for humans. Is it illegal for naga?” He couldn't understand why Crowley was being so casual about the fact they were both men.

“What? Why-? No. It’s not illegal.”

“I had a book. With illustrations. They found it, and-” Tears rolled down his cheeks. He put his face in his hands. “That’s why they arrested me.”

“Holy shit. Those bastards.” Crowley shuffled closer and patted Aziraphale’s back comfortingly. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Aziraphale dried his eyes as best he could. “It's really not illegal for naga? Not even frowned upon?”

“All naga are assumed to be bisexual. Do you know that word? It means being attracted to all genders.”

Aziraphale nodded in understanding, utterly fascinated. “Humans are only allowed to be attracted to the opposite gender, but I've only ever been attracted to men. You’re bisexual?”

“Er. No, actually. I've only ever liked men. Most people tend to fool around exclusively with their own gender at school – no risk of getting anyone pregnant. I thought that when I got older I’d start liking women too, but it never happened. I've never been attracted to women.”

“That makes two of us,” Aziraphale said with a little laugh. “Thank you for sharing all of this with me. I've hated keeping secrets from you.”

“I’m sorry you’ve had to keep it secret. I can’t even imagine. Is it illegal everywhere for humans?”

“Yes. In every place I’ve ever been. And I’ve travelled a lot. The consequences for being found out are usually less… imaginative. I’m rather concerned about what will happen when we reach the village. If they find out.”

“They won’t know what you were arrested for, though, right? Unless… would Anathema know?”

“No. I’ll tell her I was accused of witchcraft or something. The problem is, when new sacrifices come through, they might tell everyone exactly what I was accused of.”

“Fuck.”

“I know this complicates everything. I’m so sorry. For lying, for saying I was falsely accused. But I didn’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay. We’ll figure something out. You’ll be alright, I promise.”

Aziraphale smiled, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you.”

Aziraphale shifted closer to Crowley until their shoulders were touching. Under the blanket, a bare leg found scales. Crowley’s hand was still pressed to his back, and the touch made Aziraphale feel warm inside.

Aziraphale gazed into honey-gold eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

Crowley swallowed. “You don’t have to.”

“I know. I want to. Do you still want to?”

“Yes.” Crowley let out a shaky breath. “The wine…”

“I'm not drunk, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve been careful.” He gave Crowley his best flirtatious smile. “I thought I might give myself away if I drank too much. I might flirt and stroke your tail again like I did when we smoked the mushrooms.”

Crowley made a weak sound.

“What about you?” Aziraphale said. “Are you drunk? I wouldn't want to take advantage.”

Crowley scoffed. “You wouldn’t. It takes more than that to get me drunk.”

“Good.” Aziraphale leaned in and kissed him, a gentle press of lips. Crowley kissed him back, and the hand resting on Aziraphale’s back tightened its grip. Aziraphale’s hands went up to touch Crowley’s face, thrilled by this new closeness between them. It’d been such a long time since he’d last kissed anyone, and it felt incredible.

Under the blanket, the end of Crowley’s tail curled around Aziraphale’s calf, squeezing gently, testing the water, and Aziraphale gasped at the reminder of how different they were. He pushed his fingers into red curls, eager for more.

Crowley’s arms wrapped around him, and his tail tightened around his leg. Aziraphale could feel how strong he was – not just his muscular tail but his slender toned arms. Perhaps it should frighten him, but his arousal only flared brighter. He trusted Crowley, and he could feel, under all that strength, just how careful Crowley was being with him.

Crowley broke the kiss. “Are you sure about this? We can stop if-”

“I’m sure.”

“Is my tail okay? If it’s too much-”

“I like it.”

Aziraphale brought their mouths together again, the kiss becoming wet and hungry. Crowley pushed his tongue into Aziraphale’s mouth, long and inhuman, and Aziraphale felt both overwhelmed and excited, his cock already hard beneath his clothes. Aziraphale drew back, gasping for breath.

Crowley was panting, the pink of his tongue visible.

“Show me your tongue?” Aziraphale said.

Crowley poked his tongue out, showing off its length.

“It’s forked. I never realised.” Aziraphale felt delighted to have learnt something new about him, and then he realised with a jolt that his own tongue must seem just as unusual to Crowley.

Crowley looked ashamed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have just shoved my tongue into your mouth like that.”

“I like having your tongue in my mouth.”

Aziraphale stuck his own tongue out and licked the end of Crowley’s nose. They dissolved into laughter, and then their lips found each other again.

One of Crowley’s hands pushed into Aziraphale’s hair while the other rubbing his back, all while his tail slid up towards his bare knee. The onslaught of touch had Aziraphale shivery with need, had him moaning against Crowley’s mouth.

Crowley pulled away, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but whimper at the loss.

“Have you ever done this before?” Crowley asked. “Kissing and stuff?”

Aziraphale nodded.

“I wasn’t sure,” Crowley said. “It must be difficult to meet other men.”

“It can be, but somehow we manage to find each other. I’ve been with a few men in my time, but I must confess, it's been several years.”

“It’s been a few years for me too,” Crowley admitted. “And I’ve only ever been with other naga.”

“I’ve only ever been with humans,” said Aziraphale. “We can figure it out together.”

But could they? The events of that morning - the humiliating misunderstanding - came back to Aziraphale full force. It made him feel horribly self-conscious. What if Crowley was disappointed with what he had to offer?

Aziraphale hesitated. “Does it bother you that I… that I’ve only got one?”

“No, of course not,” Crowley said gently. “I’m so sorry for what I said. I panicked. I knew you’d been injured in some way, and I made a stupid assumption. It doesn’t bother me how many you have.” Crowley gave him a smile. “You’re really hot, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale grinned. “You’re rather handsome yourself.”

“Does it bother you that I have two?” Crowley asked.

“I don’t mind how many cocks you have either. Although I don’t think I have the stamina for more than ten.”

Crowley snorted a laugh. “I definitely had less than ten the last time I checked. I think we’re safe.”

They both laughed and then they were kissing again. Aziraphale melted back into it, his insecurities fading away as they clung to each other.

Aziraphale’s fingers found their way inside Crowley's low-cut collar, and he stroked his chest. He wanted to unbutton Crowley’s shirt, but the sudden realisation that this was all Crowley was wearing, that he’d be left naked without it, had him hesitating even as arousal pooled in his belly at the thought. Aziraphale was also dressed in very little, nothing more than a borrowed shirt. The blanket over his legs had slid down during their fumbling, and it was clear just how hard he was, his erection pulling at his shirt. He glanced across at Crowley's lap and could see twin bulges, side by side, hidden under his clothes. Aziraphale’s stomach swooped. He felt excited and nervous all at once.

Crowley’s gaze was fixed on Aziraphale’s lap, and in a moment of daring, Aziraphale palmed himself through his clothes, swallowing against the obscenity of it. Crowley’s lips parted, a gasp escaping him, his eyes half-lidded.

“Do you want to see it?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yes,” Crowley responded immediately.

Not giving himself a chance to think better of it, Aziraphale pulled his shirt up and over his head, leaving himself entirely naked, his cock jutting upwards. The blankets were warm and soft against his bare back and arse. He held his shirt in one hand, ready to cover himself if Crowley’s reaction was less than perfect.

Crowley looked him up and down, hunger in his eyes. “You're gorgeous, just look at you. Your cock is huge.”

Aziraphale blushed, enjoying the praise. He threw his shirt to one side.

Crowley’s gaze dropped to his own lap. He glanced up at Aziraphale, suddenly coy. “D’you wanna see mine?”

“Good lord, yes.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Crowley lifted his own shirt, just high enough to reveal his cocks, as though prepared to hide them away again if Aziraphale were not impressed.

Each cock jutted out from under a raised set of scales. They sat side by side, an inch or so apart. The scales between the cocks looked different to those around them, but Aziraphale’s attention was quickly drawn back to the beautiful cocks, which were both black with a red stripe along the underside. They looked almost human, long and slender compared to his own, but the skin was more like the inside of his mouth, probably because they were usually kept within his body. They glistened with slick, and the sight made Aziraphale ache with arousal.

Aziraphale looked up to meet Crowley’s gaze. “They're gorgeous,” he said. “You're gorgeous.”

Crowley grinned and lifted his shirt up and over his head before flinging it to one side. Aziraphale’s gaze drifted down over his chest - dusted with red hair – to a flat stomach, and then to where pale skin gave way to small, delicate scales over his hips. Aziraphale’s attention once again focused on his cocks. His own cock twitched as he considered all of the things they could do together.

“Show me how you like to touch yourself,” Aziraphale said, enjoying the way Crowley’s cheeks flushed at his words.

Crowley bit his lower lip. He reached down with his right hand and took hold of his right-hand cock in a firm grip. Aziraphale found himself surprised that Crowley was ignoring his other member, which was equally hard. Somehow, he'd thought he'd take one in each hand. Crowley stared at him helplessly as he started to stroke himself.

For all of their differences, they still pleasured themselves in the same way.

Aziraphale took himself in hand, stroking himself like he did when he was alone. Crowley watched, a groan escaping him, his own hand moving faster.

Aziraphale knew he wouldn't last long. He was desperately worked up already. He’d not had an orgasm in weeks. Not since his arrest. He’d been cooped up in prison with little to no privacy, terrified of what was to come. He’d not had much privacy during their travels through the cave system either, but he’d been far too anxious anyway. The last time he’d had any real privacy – in the curtained off chamber in Crowley’s main camp only last night – he’d been too exhausted to even think about pleasuring himself. Besides, he’d have felt guilty doing such a thing in Crowley’s home. It would have felt disrespectful. But now he found himself dangerously close to tipping over the edge.

“You only play with one at a time?” Aziraphale asked, shocked by how wrecked he sounded.

Crowley looked up from where he'd been watching Aziraphale touch himself. His voice shook. “Yeah. I can do both at the same time, but sometimes it can feel too intense. So usually only one at a time. If I wanna keep going then I swap to the other one.” Crowley's gaze returned to Aziraphale’s cock. “It's so sexy watching you touch yourself.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley pulled him into a deep kiss, and then they went back to watching each other, cheek to cheek, panting as their hands moved.

Crowley was the first to tip over the edge, spilling across his own stomach and hand, an unintelligible noise escaping him as his entire body tensed, his tail squeezing Aziraphale’s leg. He looked so debauched – chest heaving, mouth open, skin glistening with his own cum - that Aziraphale couldn’t hold back. It only took a few more strokes and Aziraphale was cumming too, spilling across his own belly with a whimper, trembling with the intensity of it.

Huddled close together and breathing heavily, they shared a grin, and suddenly they were both laughing.

Crowley grabbed a cloth and a flask of water, and they got to work cleaning up the mess. Aziraphale’s cock had softened, and Crowley’s cocks were slowly shrinking back into his body. Aziraphale savoured this opportunity to learn more about Crowley’s body as he helped him wash, taking time to admire his smooth scales and soft skin.

Crowley touched Aziraphale’s thigh. “Your cut looks better. It’s healing okay?”

Aziraphale nodded and gave a smile. “Your salve works wonders.”

“Sorry again for… well. It still makes me cringe when I think about it.”

Aziraphale chuckled and kissed his cheek. “It’s quite alright, my dear. It’s just as well we both knew before being intimate or we’d have had quite the surprise. Besides, learning that you have two cocks certainly helped get my blood pumping after my icy dip.”

“Oh, yeah? Pictured them, did you?”

Aziraphale smirked. “Of course.”

Crowley kissed him.

They stoked the fire, grabbed the depleted bottle of wine and then curled up together under the blankets. They talked until they couldn’t keep their eyes open a moment longer, and then they settled down with Crowley’s tail wrapped around them both.

The firelight flickered, warm and reassuring. It’d been a long time since Aziraphale had last fallen asleep beside a lover, and he found himself clinging to Crowley as though afraid he’d leave, just like all the others inevitably had.

Chapter Text

Crowley awoke with his tail curled protectively around Aziraphale. His heart ached with fondness at the way Aziraphale had snuggled up against him. Crowley rearranged the blankets around Aziraphale’s shoulders to keep him warm, a thrill racing through him at the memory of all they’d shared.

And to think, Crowley had been terrified of Aziraphale learning how he felt. It must have been fate that made him assume Aziraphale was leaning in for a kiss. His mistake had brought them closer together – and not just when it came to their bodies. Aziraphale had shared his deepest fears, had admitted to the real reason he’d been arrested and abandoned, and it broke Crowley’s heart.

A part of Crowley worried that Aziraphale would have second thoughts about wanting him after having slept on it, but any lingering doubts Crowley had vanished the moment Aziraphale opened his eyes and beamed at him.

“Good morning, my dear.”

“Good morning, angel,” Crowley said with a grin.

Aziraphale scoffed. “Angel? Hardly.”

“If I’m a demon, then you must be an angel.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Nope.”

Aziraphale kissed him, and Crowley kissed him back with enthusiasm. He couldn’t believe this was really happening, that Aziraphale wanted him. Aziraphale’s hands were everywhere, pushing into his hair, caressing his face and his chest. A thumb brushed over a sensitive nipple, making Crowley gasp. The blanket was soon thrown aside, putting them both on display. They hadn't put their clothes back on after undressing last night, content to curl up together under the blankets. The sight of Aziraphale’s naked body, of his thick hard cock, had Crowley’s hemipenes twitching, both of them already hard.

The way Aziraphale’s body split into two at the hips seemed all the more jarring without his clothes on. It was like he had two tails. Crowley couldn’t tear his gaze away. He’d grown up around humans, was used to them, but Aziraphale was the only human he'd ever seen naked, and he’d always been curious about how their legs attached.

The tip of Crowley’s tail instinctively wrapped around the nearest of Aziraphale’s legs. Usually, with other naga, their tails twisted together while they had sex, and he still felt that urge to squeeze and hold. Aziraphale’s legs were wonderfully soft and warm as he slid his way upwards, taking extra care around the knee, unsure of just how delicate the joint was. The closest reference he had were elbows. With every pleased gasp and moan that escaped Aziraphale, Crowley’s confidence grew, and his tail slid higher.

Aziraphale’s hand moved across Crowley’s hipbone, gliding over the place where skin gave way to scale. Crowley let out a gasp, shivering at the touch. He realised Aziraphale wouldn’t understand the implications of what he was doing.

“Where it turns from skin to scale… It’s very sensitive. It feels good,” Crowley said.

There was surprise in Aziraphale’s eyes, and then his gaze dropped. His finger ran in little circles over Crowley’s hip scales, driving him crazy with arousal and making him moan.

“Oh, you really do like that, don’t you? Is it an erogenous zone?”

Crowley nodded. It felt just as intimate as having his nipples played with. For naga, hips were just as private as genitals and breasts, and they were just as sexualised. Naga always kept their hips covered – a wide belt, a long shirt – it didn’t matter, so long as that private place was hidden just like their crotch.

He could still remember the first time another boy showed him his hip scales. The thrill of something so erotic, the sight of such delicate scales against skin. He could still remember that first touch, the way it made the boy moan, the way Crowley had lifted one side of his own shirt and let himself be touched in return. They’d ended up removing their shirts entirely and grinding their cocks together in a frenzy of desire. They’d both been in their mid-teens. It’d been a first time for both of them.

It felt so long ago now.

Last night, when he’d taken his shirt off completely for Aziraphale, it’d given him a similar thrill. Even if he’d already shown Aziraphale his cocks, even if it didn’t mean the same to a human who was right now touching him there so easily.

“Your cocks are rock hard. Just look at you.”

Crowley looked down at himself, his cheeks burning.

“Can I touch you?” Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley nodded, heart racing. “Yeah.”

“Which one?”

“Doesn’t matter. Whichever you want.”

Aziraphale touched the cock closest to him, taking it in a loose grip before starting to stroke him, slow and teasing. Crowley gasped, hips rocking up into it, seeking more friction. Aziraphale tightened his grip, his hand suddenly moving faster, and Crowley let out a broken sound.

“Is that good?”

“So good,” Crowley gasped. He laid a hand on a soft thigh and then slid up towards Aziraphale’s huge cock.

Precum had already beaded at the tip. Crowley wrapped his fingers around Aziraphale’s cock, marvelling at the silkiness of the skin, at the way Aziraphale moaned. Aziraphale’s cock wasn’t naturally slick like his own, probably because it wasn’t kept inside his body, so he swept the pre-cum down over his length.

Their mouths came together in a heated kiss as their hands moved on each other’s cocks.

Aziraphale’s free hand caressed the scales of Crowley’s lap, sliding between his hemipenes and over the partially open scales of his cloaca. Crowley let out an involuntary whine, pushing up into the touch.

Aziraphale looked pleased. “You’re sensitive here too.”

Once again, Crowley realised that Aziraphale didn’t understand the weight of what he was doing. He took Aziraphale’s wrist and pulled his hand away. “Yeah, but... You know what that is, right?”

Aziraphale looked confused. His other hand stilled on Crowley’s cock.

“That's my cloaca.”

It was clear from Aziraphale’s expression that he didn't know what that word meant.

“My anus.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, eyes widening. “I didn't know yours was at the front.”

“Where's yours?” Crowley asked. He was aware that centaurs had theirs at the back, far behind them. Aziraphale’s must be behind him too.

“Between my legs,” Aziraphale said. He gave a coy smile. “I like mine to be touched too.” Crowley knew his interest must have been obvious, because Aziraphale bit his lip and then added. “Would you like me to show you?”

Crowley nodded, feeling hot all over at the thought.

Pink faced, Aziraphale lay on his back and spread his legs. He pulled his cheeks apart revealing a puckered hole which looked ever so tight. Crowley wanted to touch it, was already moving closer, leaning in for a better look. He wondered what it would feel like to slide one of his cocks inside.

“You can touch it, if you want to,” Aziraphale said.

“I definitely want to.”

Crowley stroked the curve of one of Aziraphale’s arse cheeks, soft and smooth. He rubbed his finger against the pink hole and Aziraphale moaned, writhing in place.

“D- Do you have any oil or anything?” Aziraphale gasped.

Arousal flooded through Crowley at the thought of what Aziraphale wanted him to do. “Yeah. Hang on.”

Crowley kept a little jar in his satchel for moments during his travels when he wanted to give himself a good seeing to. He pulled the stopper from the jar.

Aziraphale’s breath was ragged as he spread his legs even wider in invitation. Crowley pressed a slicked finger to Aziraphale’s tightly furled hole, stroking in little circles, enjoying the lewd sight and the way Aziraphale gasped under the attention. Aziraphale’s hole was similar to his own, minus the scales that guarded it.

Crowley’s finger tugged against his rim, almost slipping inside.

Aziraphale moaned, loud and shameless. “Please, Crowley.”

Hearing Aziraphale beg like that turned him on all the more. Crowley pushed a finger into his hole, watching the way Aziraphale’s body stretched around the invasion.

“Yes. Yes,” Aziraphale gasped.

Crowley rocked his finger, and with his free hand he took Aziraphale’s cock and started to pump him at the same time. Aziraphale whimpered, his hands fisting in the blankets beneath him.

“Can I use my mouth on your cock?” Crowley asked.

Another gasp. “Oh, lord. Yes.”

Crowley’s eyes drifted closed as he swallowed him down, swirling his tongue around him, enjoying having his mouth so full of cock, enjoying the salty taste. Aziraphale was so big and thick, and the thought of having him push into his cloaca was making the scales there part.

“Ah! Please…” Aziraphale moaned.

Crowley eagerly sucked Aziraphale’s cock and rubbed at the soft, smooth spot inside of his anus, driving Aziraphale wild.

Aziraphale dug his fingers into Crowley’s hair and let out a cracked sound. “I’m close.”

Crowley continued to work him until Aziraphale tensed, groaned, and let out a warning. Crowley’s mouth was flooded with cum. He swallowed it all, sucking him through it, all while Aziraphale trembled and gasped. His cum tasted just like naga cum. Crowley licked him clean before letting go of his cock and removing his finger.

Aziraphale was panting. “Oh, Crowley. That felt incredible.”

Crowley grinned. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Aziraphale pushed himself up onto his elbows, his gaze fixed on Crowley’s crotch. “I want to get my mouth on you too.”

A thrill shot through Crowley at the thought. His hemipenes were still rock hard.

“And can I… Your anus. Cloaker?”

“Cloaca.”

“Can I finger you?”

“Anything you want, angel. Sucking your cock really turned me on. My scales have opened right up for you.”

Aziraphale knelt beside him, looking down at Crowley’s cloaca. The surrounding scales had slid back, putting his hole entirely on show.

Aziraphale’s hand slid over Crowley’s lap before pushing in-between his cocks, palm flat against his exposed hole. A shiver ran down Crowley’s spine all the way to the tip of his tail. He let out a whimper, hips rolling up even as Aziraphale pressed down. Aziraphale pushed one of Crowley’s cocks to one side to get a better view as he rubbed his fingertips over his sensitive rim.

Aziraphale’s hands left him entirely, drawing a needy whine from Crowley. Aziraphale grabbed the oil, and the anticipation of what came next had Crowley panting.

Aziraphale straddled Crowley’s lap, facing him, a leg on either side of him. Strong thighs squeezed him in a way that had Crowley’s tail twisting around itself in delight. Crowley couldn’t resist grabbing those thighs in his hands and squeezing. Aziraphale slicked his fingers and then pressed a cool, damp fingertip to his hole.

“Put it in, put it- Hnn...” Crowley moaned as he was stretched open, the tight ring of muscle yielding to the wet push.

“Okay?”

“Fuck, yeah. Keep going.” Crowley watched as Aziraphale’s finger sank deeper, the first knuckle and then the second vanishing into his body. It was almost too much, the sight of it. It made him feel hot all over. It’d been so long since anyone had touched him like this. He’d craved it. He’d craved it with Aziraphale, and now it was really happening.

Aziraphale’s other hand took hold of one of his hemipenes and started to pump him in time with the thrusts of his finger. He’d oiled up that hand too and the wet grip had him groaning.

“Your cloaca is so tight,” said Aziraphale.

“Yeah. I bet I’ll feel extra tight around your huge cock.”

Aziraphale’s half-hard cock twitched with interest. “I- I don’t think I can get fully hard again so soon. Sorry.”

Crowley let out a breathy laugh. “S’okay. Another time. Then you can fuck me as hard as you want.”

Aziraphale surged forward and kissed him on the mouth. Seconds later, he shuffled back along his tail, dipped his head, and took Crowley’s cock into his mouth.

Crowley made a series of unintelligible sounds as he was sucked and fingered at the same time. “S-Squeeze me tighter with your thighs. Ngk. F-Fuck. M’close. M’gonna cum.”

Aziraphale’s tongue wasn’t as dextrous as his own but the way he took him into his throat had him falling apart in moments. He cried out as he came, hips trying to push up even as he was pinned down by the man on top of him.

Once Aziraphale had swallowed every drop, he released Crowley’s cock from his mouth and then sat up, his finger sliding free of his cloaca.

Crowley pulled him into a kiss, thrilled by the taste of his own cum. “You’re incredible. Did you know that?”

Aziraphale smirked. “You’re rather incredible yourself.”

Crowley held Aziraphale close, kissing him lazily, enjoying the weight of Aziraphale on his lap, savouring this feeling of contentment.

Hunger eventually got the better of them and they got up to make a light breakfast.

Aziraphale’s clothes had finally dried, so Crowley darned them. He was rewarded with a huge smile and plenty of praise. Aziraphale decided to save his clothes for when they reached the village, tucking them away safely in his satchel. It seemed important to him that he had trousers on when he entered the village.

They had to return to the water’s edge in order to get back on route, but it wasn’t long before the tunnel meandered away from the river again. It was a relief when they could no longer hear the sound of rushing water.

As they continued their journey, hands linked together, Crowley wondered if this thing between them could last. Would Aziraphale still be interested in him after he’d reached the village and met all the humans? Crowley wanted a relationship with Aziraphale. He could already imagine it. Aziraphale could stay here with him in the caves and help him rescue new sacrifices. And when they were alone, they could make love, and Crowley would never be lonely again.

Chapter Text

It took about half-an-hour for them to get to Crowley’s next camp. Just beyond it, the tunnel forked in two directions.

“We need to take the tunnel on the left,” Crowley said. “Although…”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.

“The left tunnel takes us to the exit,” said Crowley. “The other way leads to the hot springs.”

Aziraphale gasped. “Hot springs? Here? Oh, that sounds wonderful. Would you like to go?” It’d been ages since he’d last visited a hot spring.

“Sure. It’ll take about fifteen minutes to get there. I’m assuming you don’t mind delaying our journey a little?”

“I don’t mind at all.” The more time he spent with Crowley, the better. And hot springs were terribly romantic.

They topped up their water and food supplies at the camp – luckily there was a decent stash - and then they packed some fluffy towels and a change of clothes.

They set off along the right-hand tunnel. It sloped down, heading deeper into the earth. After about ten minutes the tunnel opened up into a series of linked chambers, one after another. By the third chamber, the air was warm and damp.

Green moss covered the walls, ceiling, and floor, save for a path which cut through the centre, probably kept clear by Crowley’s tail on every visit. Mushrooms grew everywhere, and by the fourth chamber they were bigger than Aziraphale had ever seen them, fighting for dominance with the moss. These mushrooms shone in shades of blue, green and yellow, thriving in the humid environment.

Then they entered the final chamber. It was larger than the others and brightly lit by the mushrooms. Their glow turned the water’s surface into a kaleidoscope of colour. The pool was at the back of the cavern, against the cave wall, a gentle current sending ripples across the water’s surface. To one side, water bubbled up like a miniature fountain, no doubt bursting free of some sort of vent.

“It looks magical. Is it safe to swim in?” Aziraphale asked as he took off his cloak, already too hot in the heated room.

“Of course. I’ve not had scale rot yet anyway,” Crowley added with a laugh. “It’s safe. Full of minerals and stuff. Good for your skin. Good for scales too. Speaking of which - there are likely to be tiny snakes in there. They like to swim, but they’re skittish things. Harmless. They’ll keep out of your way. Especially when a giant snake slithers in there with them.” Crowley gave him a wicked grin. “I’m guessing you’re not as scared of snakes as you are of spiders?”

“I’m not scared of spiders,” Aziraphale insisted. “And I’m definitely not scared of snakes. Especially not big handsome ones.”

Crowley smirked. “You’re not scared I’ll eat you up?”

“You can swallow me whole any time you like.”

Crowley pulled him into an eager kiss and then led him over to the pool’s edge. The water was crystal clear, the smooth stone floor perfectly visible.

Crowley took off his shirt, leaving himself entirely naked, his scales doing the covering up for him. Aziraphale removed his own borrowed shirt and then kicked off his sandals. Their clothes were placed next to their bags, along with their towels, water bottles, and a little parcel containing their lunch.

Crowley slid right into the water while Aziraphale just dipped his toes in cautiously. Crowley held out his hand, and Aziraphale took it, letting himself to be eased down into the pool. He gasped at the heat of it, his body taking a moment to adjust. The water came up to his shoulders.

“It’s certainly warmer than the river,” said Aziraphale.

Crowley gave him a playful swat on the arm. “I should hope so.”

They made their way over to Crowley’s favourite spot - a shallow, sandy corner where they could sit and relax. The heat seemed to soak into Aziraphale’s bones, soothing his aching muscles and leaving him feeling relaxed and content.

Crowley’s long tail stretched out underwater, the tip draped casually over Aziraphale’s ankle.

They talked for a while, and then Aziraphale got up to do some swimming, leaving Crowley sprawled out in the corner. Before long Aziraphale was floating on his back, letting the current take him with it towards the back of the pool. He admired the stalactites above him as he drifted.

Darkness suddenly surrounded him, and he gasped as the current swept him into a hidden cave.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale yelled. He scrambled to get his feet under him, toes landing on smooth stone. Thank goodness he was able to stand here and stop himself from being dragged away deeper into the darkness. He started to head back, relieved to find that he was able to swim against the current.

There came a splash, and Crowley was suddenly at his side, his tail sliding beneath Aziraphale to lift him higher and pull him in close.

“Are you okay, angel?”

“Sorry,” Aziraphale said, feeling embarrassed. “I didn’t know there was a cave back here. It caught me off guard, and the current…”

“It’s okay. I should’ve told you,” Crowley said. “It’s more of a tunnel than a cave. It goes around a corner but then becomes too narrow for anyone to get through. It’s pretty amazing in there if you wanna take a look? It’s safe but dark. You’ll need your mushroom lantern.”

Something moved in the water. Something small and bright. It glowed like the mushrooms, except it was bright orange. “What’s that? A fish? Oh, there’s another!”

“Yeah. They like the dark.”

Aziraphale swam closer, gazing at the fish. They had red and orange luminous stripes. “Let’s go in without the lantern. I think it’ll be more fun to watch the fish in the dark. Can you see alright in here?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Let’s go. Assuming you don’t mind accompanying me? I’d rather not swim headfirst into a wall.”

Crowley cackled. “I’ll stop you from knocking yourself out, don’t worry.”

They made their way deeper into the tunnel, Crowley guiding Aziraphale with a hand on his shoulder.

Aziraphale watched the fish as they darted back and forth, vibrant in the darkness. Now that his vision was limited, he found himself extra aware of every noise he made, of every splash and every breath.

“Okay. Don’t go any further or you’ll bump your head,” said Crowley. “This is where it starts to get narrow. We should turn back.”

Aziraphale spun around and swam back a short distance. He stopped and waded against the current, searching for Crowley’s eyes in the gloom, but he saw nothing. He didn’t need to be able to see Crowley to know he was there though. His hand was still on his back, and he could feel scales against his side.

“Where’s your face, my dear?”

“Right here.” Crowley took Aziraphale’s wrist and brought his hand up to his jaw.

Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s face with both hands and kissed him in the dark while bright fish danced around them. He didn’t want this magical moment to end, but soon they were heading back the way they’d come. They rounded the corner and suddenly he could see again, the end of the tunnel lit by the glow of the mushrooms.

They had lunch on the shore and then headed back into the water, settling once again in Crowley’s favourite spot, side by side.

Aziraphale found himself telling Crowley about the raid on Anathema’s cottage followed by the raid on his own.

“They knew I was good friends with Anathema, you see. Guilty by association. They turned my place upside down looking for evidence of witchcraft. If only I’d been more careful hiding that book.” Aziraphale sighed and shook his head, but then a smile pulled at the corner of his lip. “But then I wouldn’t have met you, so I suppose things turned out for the best.”

“What exactly was in the book? You said something about illustrations?”

Aziraphale cringed. “Risqué drawings. And stories. In a different language, so it was the illustrations they got me on.”

“They found your porn stash?”

“It wasn't porn!” Aziraphale spluttered. “It was erotic fiction. Almost two hundred years old, and they’ve probably burnt it,” he added bitterly.

Crowley pulled him in close and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I’ll buy you some new books. Filthier ones. With even more cocks.”

Aziraphale laughed. “That’s very kind of you. Do they sell erotica at your market?”

“Yeah. There’s an adult section. I, er... I already own an erotic book. S’just pictures. Mostly naga-on-naga stuff. You’re welcome to have a look some time. It’s several camps back though. I’d have shown it to you earlier, but it was before we’d...” He let out a laugh, a blush colouring his face. “And I didn’t know how saucy you were back then.”

Aziraphale smiled. “I’d definitely like to see it. We could look through it together.” And then, in a moment of daring, he added. “Maybe even try some of your favourite positions from it. If it’s possible without me having a tail, of course.”

“My favourites will definitely be possible without you having a tail, don’t you worry.” Crowley kissed him. “And we can try some of your favourites from your book too. Maybe you could even recite some of the stories if you still remember them.”

Aziraphale’s face flushed at the thought. “Oh, I remember them.” And he did. He’d read those stories more than enough times. Maybe he should write them down to make sure he definitely wouldn’t forget them.

They were kissing again, clinging to each other. Aziraphale was hard already, and when he looked down, he could see Crowley’s twin cocks under the water. The kiss deepened, and he found himself sliding up onto Crowley’s lap just like he had that morning, knees scraping against the sand, thighs and arse pressed to smooth scales. One of Crowley’s cocks bumped against his own, making Aziraphale gasp and shift closer. His own cock slid between Crowley’s to press length-ways against his cloaca.

Crowley let out a weak sound. He grabbed Aziraphale’s arse in both hands and squeezed as he pulled him closer. Aziraphale rocked in place, moaning at the way their cocks were trapped between their bodies, the way his cock slid against Crowley’s hole.

Something splashed behind Aziraphale, and he turned to look over his shoulder. The end of Crowley’s tail had risen out of the water, twisting around itself as it flicked this way and that.

“Sorry,” Crowley breathed. “Can’t help it when I get excited.”

Aziraphale laughed and returned to rolling his hips.

Crowley looked beautiful, all parted lips, pink cheeks, and dishevelled hair. His nipples were hard, and Aziraphale couldn’t resist pinching them, delighting in the way it reduced Crowley to a whimpering mess. Aziraphale mouthed at Crowley’s throat while Crowley moaned beneath him, and then Crowley’s breath hitched, and he was cumming, turning the water misty between them.

Aziraphale rocked his hips, chasing his own pleasure while Crowley clung to him, urging him on. Water splashed around them as Aziraphale moved, and then he tipped over the edge, spilling in pulses, shaking with the intensity of it. Crowley was still clinging to him, grinding against him, still urging him to keep moving. Aziraphale gasped, on the verge of over-sensitive, but he was enjoying this too much to want it to stop.

“Nghh…” Crowley whined, hips bucking erratically before he tensed and then went still.

“Did- Did you just-?”

Crowley let out an embarrassed noise. “Yeah. I can’t believe I just came twice in as many minutes. Fuck.”

Aziraphale laughed. “Both cocks?”

“Yeah.” Crowley held Aziraphale’s face in his hands and kissed him.

They stayed in the shallows, holding each other close as the current washed their seed away. Aziraphale felt wonderfully content. It’d been a long time since he’d had so many orgasms in such a short time. Something about Crowley made him insatiable.

After a while, they decided to get out of the pool before their skin turned wrinkly. They dried off with the fluffy towels and then put on some fresh clothes. Aziraphale wore yet another borrowed shirt.

***

They returned to the camp at the fork in the path. After dinner, they searched through Crowley’s things looking for some playing cards.

Crowley lifted himself high on his tail to get a better look at a high shelf. “I could’ve sworn I had some in one of these- Oh! I forgot this was here!”

Aziraphale glanced up from the box of sewing supplies he’d been searching through.

Crowley was holding a wooden box, a huge grin on his face.

Aziraphale moved closer. “What’s in there?”

Crowley lowered himself back to Aziraphale’s height and then opened the lid. A long metal tube covered in dots filled the entire length of the box, and a metal comb was positioned alongside it.

“It’s a cylinder music box,” Crowley said as he cranked a handle on the side. “Cost me an arm and a tail, I can tell you.”

A chiming melody filled the air, echoing along the tunnel.

Aziraphale recognised the tune. “Don't stop me now! The bards used to play this song up north. You were whistling it when I first met you.”

Crowley grinned. “It plays ‘Another one bites the dust’ and ‘You’re my best friend’ too.”

“What a clever device.”

“I like playing it at the exit so the humans know I’m around. I’m more likely to get food deliveries that way. I usually keep it there, but sometimes it’s nice to have some music while I'm in the tunnels. Plus, I like to dance.”

Crowley swayed his hips from side to side in time with the music and then lifted his arms above his head. The end of his long tail flicked to the rhythm.

Aziraphale’s cheeks felt hot. Crowley looked ever so alluring as he moved. It was lucky Crowley already knew Aziraphale’s secret – he was sure his enjoyment would be obvious no matter what. Crowley grinned at him, and his dance became more confident, arms flailing enthusiastically, and then he made a beckoning gesture like he was pulling Aziraphale towards him with a rope. Aziraphale laughed and drifted closer, trying to copy Crowley’s dance moves, swaying his hips and waving his arms.

“That’s it, angel!”

They danced together, laughing while music rang out around them.

“Show me a human dance,” Crowley said, excitement in his voice.

“I know the gavotte,” said Aziraphale, his brow knitting together in concentration as he put his hands on his hips and tried his best to remember the fancy footwork.

“Wow! Your legs move so fast.” Crowley’s hands fell to his own waist, and he moved his hips in an attempt to copy him before snorting out a laugh. “I’m not very good at this one. Not leggy enough.”

“I know a much better dance we can do.” Aziraphale stepped closer to Crowley until their chests were almost touching.

“I like this one already.”

Aziraphale took one of Crowley’s hands in his own. “And your other hand goes on my shoulder,” he said as he helped Crowley get into position. He placed his own free hand on Crowley’s back. “This is the waltz.”

It was impossible for Crowley to do the steps of the waltz, but that wasn’t a problem. Aziraphale performed the box step while Crowley glided along with him. Soon they were turning in circles, Aziraphale leading until Crowley got the hang of it, and then they swapped. Crowley’s hand was on Aziraphale’s back now, and Aziraphale clung to Crowley’s shoulder as he was swept effortlessly around. It was exhilarating – the dance, the music, the laughter, the company.

They slowed down until they were simply swaying in place. Aziraphale rested his head against Crowley’s shoulder. He liked him so much it hurt, and he hoped Crowley’s feelings were just as strong. It was still early days, he knew, but he was already smitten. He could picture a future together, and he knew he was getting ahead of himself, but he couldn’t help it. It’d been a long time since he’d last felt this way about anyone.

Aziraphale kissed Crowley, and the kiss quickly became hungry and open-mouthed. They were pressed so tightly together that he could feel Crowley’s hardness even through all their layers of clothing.

“My dear, you are insatiable,” Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley laughed. “You’re saying that like you aren’t hard too.”

They swayed to the music, their bodies pressed together, the friction dizzying. They stripped their shirts off, and suddenly they were dancing naked, their cocks sliding together as they moved. Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s arse-cheeks and squeezed. In response, Aziraphale grabbed the smooth-scaled roundness of Crowley’s backside. His hands slid up to caress the place where scale turned to skin. Crowley groaned and set about kissing Azirphale’s throat.

Crowley threw himself backwards onto a nest of blankets, pulling Aziraphale down on top of him. They lay there, thrusting against each other.

When had the music stopped? Aziraphale hadn’t even realised.

“I want you to fuck me,” Crowley gasped.

A shiver of excitement ran through Aziraphale at the thought. “Where’s the oil?”

Crowley dragged his satchel over using his tail and then grabbed the jar. “Please. I want your fingers first.”

Crowley’s scales had already slid back, presenting his tightly furled hole. Uncovered, it looked just like a human arsehole, and the thought of sinking into it had Aziraphale groaning. Crowley’s body took the first finger with ease, and the second. Aziraphale scissored his fingers while Crowley writhed in place.

“Another. I’m gonna need at least three fingers before I can take your enormous cock.”

Aziraphale groaned and slid a third finger inside, watched as Crowley’s rim stretched lewdly around the invasion.

“Nghhh.” Crowley’s hips rolled, fucking himself on Aziraphale’s fingers.

“You really like that, don’t you? Being so full. Is this how you touch yourself when you’re alone?” The very idea of it had his fingers moving faster.

Crowley’s face flushed. He didn’t answer.

Aziraphale felt a shock of shame at having asked such a personal question. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“M’tail,” Crowley said. “I- I use the end of my tail and pretend it’s a big, hard cock, just like yours.”

Aziraphale looked at the end of Crowley’s tail and bit his lower lip. Tapered as it was, it was still more than three fingers thick at the end. Thick as a cock, and it only got wider. “Oh, goodness…”

Crowley swallowed. “What do you… I mean, you don’t have a tail to use, so… Do you always use your fingers?”

“I use my fingers, and I have- Or I had- a glass dildo.”

“I bet you look so good fucking yourself on a dildo. Naga don’t use dildos much – although they do exist, obviously. But… it’s a lot easier to just use the end of a tail. In foreplay too.”

The thought of being fucked by Crowley’s tail before being fucked by his cocks sent a shiver of arousal through him. Aziraphale looked at the tip of Crowley’s tail again. “Must feel good.”

Crowley grinned. “Feels incredible. It’d make you forget all about your glass dildo.”

Aziraphale laughed, memories flooding back. His cheeks burned. Crowley raised an eyebrow.

“They found my dildo,” Aziraphale explained. “Before they found my erotic book. But they didn’t know what it was. Perhaps they thought it was a glass ornament? I bet it’s proudly displayed on someone’s mantelpiece...” He dissolved into laughter and Crowley joined in. Though Crowley quickly went back to moaning when Aziraphale returned all of his attention to giving Crowley a good, hard seeing to with his fingers.

“Nghh. Fuck. Give me your cock, angel. I want that monster inside me. C’mon.”

Aziraphale scrambled for the jar and quickly spread the cool oil across his cock, the touches making his breath catch. He nudged his cockhead against Crowley’s entrance and slowly slid inside.

Crowley pawed at Aziraphale’s arse, urging him deeper, and once Aziraphale was all the way inside, their mouths came together. Crowley was so tight and hot inside, and the way Crowley’s twin cocks pressed against Aziraphale’s groin felt both strange and thrilling, turning him on all the more.

Crowley whimpered. “You feel good.”

“So do you. So tight.”

Crowley rolled his hips, arms wrapped tightly around Aziraphale, holding him close. Aziraphale started to thrust, gasping at the intensity of it, at being squeezed so perfectly. Crowley moaned beneath him, a blissed-out look on his face.

It was a wonder that Aziraphale wasn’t dangerously close to cumming already. But then again, he had cum twice already that day and once the night before. It was no wonder he was able to take his time now, and he was glad of it. He wanted to savour this.

Crowley’s tail wrapped around his thigh, and the thought of the wicked thing pushing inside of him made Aziraphale groan. “I want your tail inside me.”

“Yeah? Can I finger you first?”

“Please.”

Their mouths crushed together while Crowley grabbed the jar from where Aziraphale left it. A slicked finger played with his hole, teasing it, stretching him open, pushing inside, leaving Aziraphale moaning into Crowley’s mouth. Aziraphale’s hips rocked, fucking himself harder on that finger, fucking Crowley harder, grinding against Crowley’s twin cocks. A second finger joined the first, thrusting in and out.

“That’s it,” Aziraphale breathed. “Now give me your tail.”

Some awkward fumbling took place over Aziraphale’s shoulder as Crowley oiled up his tail, and then the rounded tip pressed against Aziraphale’s wet hole. His rim stretched open in a hot sting, leaving him moaning and burying his face against Crowley’s neck.

“Okay?” Crowley whispered.

“Oh… Please.” Aziraphale pushed his hips back, taking more, shuddering at how good it felt to be so full. It was all too much. His own cock was buried deep while his arse was stretched wide. Crowley’s tail started to thrust, to fuck him in earnest, and all Aziraphale could do was moan and shake, hips stuttering, his pleasure building.

“I- I’m close,” Aziraphale gasped out. “Do you want me to cum inside you or-”

“Cum inside me. Yeah. Fuck.” Crowley tensed below him and let out a broken sound as he spilled between them, hot and wet.

“Oh!” Aziraphale panted, feeling dizzy and overwhelmed as pleasure tore through him too, his cock pulsing as he pushed deep. His arsehole clenched around Crowley’s tail as it continued to fuck him until he felt oversensitive.

“S- Stop... I can’t...”

Crowley’s tail slid free. “You okay, angel?”

Aziraphale was still panting. He let out a laugh. “I’m more than okay. That was amazing.”

“You’re the one who was amazing. You gave me such a good seeing to.”

Aziraphale kissed him, trying to put all of his adoration into it.

They fell asleep together among the blankets, curled up in a tangle of limbs and tail.

Chapter Text

They set off down the left fork the following morning after brunch. The plan was to arrive at their destination just after sunset, so Crowley could help Aziraphale up to the exit without hurting his eyes. The curtain that hung over it could only do so much.

The thought of finally reaching the village filled Aziraphale with excitement and fear in equal measures.

They stopped for a rest at a camp with a natural spring – cold water this time – and, after boiling the water, they filled up a water barrel. Crowley had been gifted the barrel by the villagers and had rolled it all the way to this camp using his tail.

They did some laundry, including blankets and clothes they’d brought with them from the last camp. The work was a welcome distraction from worrying about how the village would react to Aziraphale’s arrival.

Aziraphale glanced around the camp, but he couldn’t see a washing line or a drying rack. “Where do we hang everything?”

“Through there,” Crowley said, gesturing to a side-tunnel. “I have a couple of washing lines strung across it. Actually… If you don’t mind going right to the end, you could hang the washing up in the sunshine for me.”

Aziraphale’s face lit up. “It leads to outside?”

“There’s a hole, but it’s very high up. I went up there once in the middle of the night, but it just opens up onto the side of the mountain. It’s a sheer drop.”

Aziraphale went alone, eager to get some sun and be useful. He ducked under a number of washing lines, strung across the path in the dark, only just visible in the light of his mushroom lantern. It was good that Crowley had somewhere dark to hang his washing too. Crowley’s pocket-watch must be invaluable to know when it was safe to go further up the tunnel.

A cool breeze made Aziraphale shiver, but soon the afternoon sun shone down on him from an opening high above him. The sun was so bright that Aziraphale had to squint to see the washing line that hung at the far end of the tunnel. After taking down the dry laundry already on the line, he hung up the sodden things and then sat down on a large rock. He stared up at the hole. Now that his eyes had adjusted, he could see thorny vines and shrubbery around it, clouds drifting across the sky. He longed to be out in the open air again, and soon he would be.

He set off back towards Crowley, who met him halfway down the passageway to take the dry laundry from him.

Together, they made a pack-up to take with them for dinner, and then they were on their way again.

They stopped a while later for a picnic at a picturesque little spot lit by hundreds of mushrooms.

“So, we’ll arrive at the exit soon…” Crowley said as he picked distractedly at his dinner. “The previous sacrifices always went into the village without me. We should probably do it that way too. I’ll hang back. Wait for you. I’ve never gone beyond the beach, and I don’t know how the people would react if I did. They’re still wary of me.”

“I- Yes. Okay.” Aziraphale hated the thought of going into the village alone, but it seemed the safest option for Crowley. Crowley’s presence in town could easily cause a panic, and fear all too often led to violence.

“I’m sure you’ll have a lot of catching up to do with Anathema,” said Crowley. “But you’ll come back as soon as you can, right? So I know you’re okay?”

“Of course.”

“And… And you don’t have to stay in the village. You can stay with me, if you like. If you want to. I know these caves aren’t exactly ideal for humans, but you’re always welcome here.”

Aziraphale couldn’t hold back his smile. “I’d like that a lot. Thank you. I’d been hoping I could stay with you and help with the sacrifices. I’ve grown fond of these caves, and very fond of you. I’ll stay for as long as you’ll have me.”

Crowley grinned. “I’m fond of you too, angel. Consider this place your home.”

They kissed, and Aziraphale’s heart soared.

A part of him wanted to stay right here and not go to the village, but he knew it had to be done. At the very least, he needed to see Anathema. He could come back straight after.

Even if Aziraphale didn’t speak the same language as the locals, he’d find a way to communicate that he wanted to stay in the caves, even if it meant using Crowley’s picture-board idea. He’d tell Anathema and the others that he was going to help Crowley with future sacrifices. It would be the perfect excuse to spend all of his time with Crowley and hide their budding relationship – at least, that’s what Aziraphale hoped it was. And it had to be a relationship, didn’t it? After all, Crowley had technically just asked him to move in with him. Aziraphale felt a rush of excitement at the thought.

They talked about what would happen once they’d hopefully sorted things out in the seaside village. They discussed how they’d handle any new sacrifices, who would no doubt be scared of Crowley and distrustful of Aziraphale.

“How close to the sacrificing room will we need to be in order to hear the boulder being rolled back?” Aziraphale asked. “You said sound travels fairly well in these tunnels, so hopefully we’ll be able to hear it from far away, yes?”

“Yeah. I heard it at the waterfall camp once - even over the sound of the water - but it was faint. I definitely felt the vibrations. It’s still best to check in as often as possible though, just in case.”

“At least you won’t have to worry about sleeping through it. I’m a very light sleeper.”

Crowley smiled. “I’m glad at least one of us doesn’t sleep like a log. Thank you, angel. It’ll be so much easier to keep an eye on everything with you here.”

“I hope I can take some of the pressure off.”

“You already have.”

After dinner they set off again, and before Aziraphale knew it they were emerging into a huge cave and Crowley was announcing that they were at the exit.

The opening to the outside world was high up in the cave wall. A curtain covered it, fluttering in the breeze, revealing a tantalising slither of a pink sunset.

It was so dark in the large space that Aziraphale couldn’t see much, the light from his lantern not reaching far, but he noticed a wide brimmed hat on a hook beside them.

It occurred to him why it seemed so dark in here compared to the previous caves.

“Why aren’t there any glowing mushrooms here?” Aziraphale asked. He’d become so accustomed to them that their absence seemed strange.

“They don’t like the sun. Before I put that curtain up it was really bright in here during the day. The sun still sneaks in around the edges.” Crowley gestured to a little alcove beside them, just off the main area. Another curtain hung over the narrow entrance. “I’ve got a little camp in there that stays nice and dark.”

Aziraphale nodded, heart pounding. He stared up at the exit, high in the rockface, and then he turned around, and they both made their way into the little camp. The curtain was left open while they topped up their flasks from a barrel at the back and then they huddled together on the blankets to rest.

Aziraphale knew he had to stop delaying the inevitable when he saw the moon was now shining through a gap in the curtain at the cave-mouth. Heart in his throat, he changed into his trousers and shirt while Crowley packed his satchel with snacks.

“No time like the present,” Aziraphale muttered to himself as they set off.

The closer they got to the cave mouth, the higher the rocks became, until it was impossible for Aziraphale to climb any further. The path became almost vertical, the rocks smooth and without any handholds.

Crowley used the lower part of his tail to support himself as he lifted himself high into the air. He slid onto a ledge, the rest of his tail gliding up after him effortlessly.

“C’mon, angel. I said you’d need my help.” Crowley held out his hand.

Aziraphale took it. He was lifted – by hand and tail - until they were both stood in front of the cave exit.

Crowley pulled the thick curtain aside and tucked it behind a jut of rock.

Aziraphale gasped.

Moonlight danced on the ocean and turned the beach a ghostly white. They were as high up here as they had been inside, and the breeze that caught at Aziraphale’s clothes was cool and bracing. He could smell the sea, and he could hear waves lapping at the shore.

The stone steps in front of them were weather smoothed and led down to a dirt path surrounded by thick grass. In one direction, the path led to the beach, and in the other, it led away between sand dunes until it vanished from view. Beyond that were the lights of a village, which, despite the late hour, still hadn't quite fallen asleep yet. The beach and the paths were deserted.

Aziraphale’s stomach twisted, and his mouth felt dry. “Well, I suppose I ought to go and introduce myself.”

Although it had already been decided that Crowley would stay behind, the thought of going alone filled Aziraphale with dread.

Crowley swallowed. “Um. Did you wanna hang out for a bit first? Have a drink on the beach? I’ve got a flask of wine in my satchel. The beach is always empty at this hour, so we'll have the place to ourselves.”

“Yes, please,” Aziraphale said immediately. “Let’s sit on the beach for a while.”

Crowley looked relieved.

Aziraphale led the way down the stairs. Every six steps there was a small landing, and Crowley moved from one to the next, carefully skipping the stairs which would no doubt be painful if slid over. He did this with the ease of someone who’d done it countless times before, and yet it occurred to Aziraphale that these steps must be human made. He'd assumed the tunnels had always belonged to the naga, so why did this village have their own access? Crowley shrugged when asked. Before he’d settled here, it was rare for his people to travel this far south.

They took a stroll along the water’s edge and then sat down in Crowley’s favourite spot to share the wine. Aziraphale was careful not to sit too close, despite wanting a kiss and a hug. It wasn’t worth the risk of someone seeing them.

“What time is it?” Aziraphale asked once they’d finished the flask of wine between them.

Crowley took out his pocket watch. “Er. About 10pm.”

Aziraphale swallowed. “Actually, now that I think about it… It’s rather late to be going into the village, isn’t it? The people will be wanting their beds. They certainly don’t want to be worrying about little old me. And it’s awfully dark, even with the moon. Maybe… Perhaps I should wait until morning?”

“Yeah. You should get a good night's sleep.”

“Exactly. That’s what I was thinking.”

They headed back up the steps, and once they were inside the mouth of the cave Crowley pulled the curtain firmly closed.

***

Aziraphale aimed straight for the pile of blankets and cushions where they’d sat earlier and started to rearrange them for bed. He didn't feel particularly sleepy, but he was hoping they might share one last passionate night together before he left for the village, beauty sleep be damned. He was already half-hard at the thought.

“I usually sleep up there.” Crowley gestured above them to a little alcove about nine feet off the ground. “I'm happy to sleep down here though if you’d rather.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale looked up at the nook. He hadn’t even noticed it before. There were blankets poking over the edge. “Is it big enough for two?”

“Yep. It’s bigger than it looks. Cozy too.”

“So long as you don’t mind helping me get up there.”

Which was how Aziraphale found himself being carried, bridal style, up to the opening. Crowley seemed to flow up the wall, balancing on his lower tail. Aziraphale was placed on the cushions before Crowley glided up to join him.

The alcove was certainly larger than it had seemed from below, with plenty of room for both of them, even with Crowley’s long tail. The ceiling was high enough that Aziraphale could stand up.

A journal and some knitting sat on a ledge. Sheets of paper covered in notes and doodles were stuck to the walls. Crowley’s gaze darted around the space, no doubt checking he hasn’t left anything embarrassing out. This was clearly a private place.

Aziraphale admired a series of charcoal drawings of flowers and mushrooms. “These are beautiful. Did you draw them?”

“Yeah,” Crowley mumbled, his cheeks colouring.

Aziraphale’s gaze fell on a set of childlike drawings towards the front of the chamber, his mushroom lantern illuminating colourful pencil lines. One picture showed Crowley moving through a tunnel with a boy sat on his tail, being carried along. Another was of Crowley on the beach, his long tail curled under him. The last two were of a dog and of the underground waterfall.

“Adam drew those,” Crowley said. “He did lots of drawing whenever we stopped at a camp. He still gives me new ones. The picture of the dog is the newest.”

“They’re very sweet. He’s clearly very fond of you.”

“He’s a good kid,” Crowley said. He glanced out of the chamber’s opening. “You’re the only person I’ve ever brought up here. When I first arrived, I wasn’t sure if the villagers were friendly, so it was nice to have a place they couldn’t reach. Plus, it’s good for the humans I take to the exit to have a bed on the ground to themselves. Assuming they’re too tired when we arrive to go straight to the village. Figured you’d like to share a bed though,” he added with a flirtatious smile.

“You figured correctly.”

Aziraphale kissed him, and Crowley kissed back with so much heat and hunger that it made Aziraphale feel hot all over. Crowley’s tongue pushed into his mouth and his fingers pushed into his hair.

Aziraphale was pushed down onto the cushions. The end of Crowley’s tail curled around an ankle and drew his legs apart. Crowley was suddenly on top of him, pressing him down, grinding their bodies together.

Aziraphale reached beneath Crowley’s shirt and found his hips, stroking him where the texture changed, delighting in the way it made Crowley groan and roll his hips even harder. Aziraphale pulled Crowley’s shirt up and over his head, leaving him naked.

Crowley fumbled with Aziraphale’s trousers, unbuttoning them and then struggling to get them down his legs.

“How the fuck do you get out of these things?” Crowley growled. “Bloody ridiculous...”

Aziraphale laughed as he shimmied out of his trousers. Crowley backed up to give him more room, watching Aziraphale undress with hungry eyes. Crowley pounced again and had far more luck wrestling Aziraphale out of his shirt. He threw it unceremoniously to the side and then grabbed Aziraphale’s wrists and held them above his head.

Aziraphale groaned, feeling wonderfully helpless as Crowley’s body rocked against his own. He wrapped his legs around Crowley’s hips, squeezing him with his thighs as his bare feet pressed to scales. He wriggled beneath Crowley, enjoying being held down, desperately aroused by Crowley’s strength. The thought of being fucked into the cushions had him biting back a whine.

“I want you inside me,” Aziraphale said, his voice breathless.

Crowley made a broken sound and scrambled for his satchel. The jar of oil appeared in his hand.

Aziraphale spread his legs as wide as he could, eager to be filled. Slicked fingers opened him up, and his toes curled.

“That’s it,” Aziraphale moaned.

While Crowley fingered him, Aziraphale grabbed the oil and set about stroking the nearest of Crowley’s cocks. The sight of that cock glistening with oil as it pressed against his hole made his breath hitch, the anticipation of it making his skin prickle. Crowley sank into him in one slow push that left Aziraphale groaning, the burn of it making him shiver. He felt scales against his arse and knew Crowley was buried all the way inside. He felt so full, his rim stretched wide. He rolled his hips as best he could while being held down, urging Crowley to move, moaning when Crowley finally drew back and then slammed into him. Crowley started to move in earnest, tail rippling and shifting.

Aziraphale’s body jolted with every thrust. Crowley’s second cock slid against his arse, and his own cock rubbed against Crowley’s belly. He was trembling with how good it felt, gasping and moaning, his hands once again pinned above his head.

Aziraphale felt wonderfully trapped and helpless, entirely at Crowley's mercy. He couldn’t leave this high alcove without Crowley’s help, his permission. He imagined being kept here as Crowley's plaything, of being fucked senseless whenever Crowley desired it, of being hidden away from the rest of the world. But as wicked as these thoughts were, he felt entirely safe here with Crowley. He trusted him completely, despite only having known him for a short while.

He could feel love beginning to bloom.

“I’m close, angel.”

Aziraphale shivered at the thought. “Inside me. Please.”

Crowley sped up.

The thought that Crowley could swap to his other cock immediately afterwards and keep going had him groaning. Crowley pushed in deep with a bitten-off cry. Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s cock twitching as it spilled inside of him, and it left him so desperately aroused he shook with it. Needing more friction, he tried to roll his hip even as he was held down. Crowley was gasping for breath, face buried against Aziraphale’s neck.

“Please,” Aziraphale gasped. “Don’t stop. I’m so close.”

“You’re a greedy thing, aren’t you?” Crowley whispered in his ear. He shifted so that his cock slid free. Aziraphale whimpered at the sudden loss, but then Crowley pushed forward, and Aziraphale found himself stuffed full again, Crowley’s second cock deep inside of him.

“Is this what you wanted?” Crowley breathed. “To make me cum inside of you again?”

Aziraphale groaned as Crowley fucked him, hard and relentless. He was close, so close, his neglected cock sliding against Crowley’s belly with every pounding thrust into him. His breath hitched and he gasped Crowley’s name as he tumbled over the edge, spilling across their bellies. His arsehole clenched around the cock still pistoning into him. He felt blissed out, trembling with the intensity of it. Crowley fucked him through it until Aziraphale couldn’t take any more. “I can’t... Too much.”

Crowley carefully slid free and then leaned down and kissed him.

Crowley straightened up, his gaze trailing over Aziraphale’s naked body where he was laid out beneath him. Aziraphale’s legs were still spread, cum leaking from his well-used hole. Crowley took hold of himself and started to stroke.

“That’s it,” Aziraphale gasped. He bit his lower lip, cock twitching, even spent as he was. The thought of Crowley getting off on the debauched sight of him and then making even more of a mess of him gave him a thrill. But then he had another idea. He pulled Crowley down against him, closing his thighs around his cock.

Crowley groaned, hips rocking. “Fuck, that feels good.”

And of course Crowley wouldn’t have done this before, had probably never even considered it to be an option. Aziraphale squeezed his thighs tighter, hands clinging to Crowley’s hips as Crowley thrust between his legs.

“It feels almost like I’m inside you. Nnnn…”

Crowley came with a whimper, hips juddering. Aziraphale’s thighs were suddenly sticky, cum spreading between them, seeping through to the blanket beneath them.

Once they’d caught their breath, they bundled up the messy blanket and shoved it to one side, ready to be washed. New blankets were shaken out and carefully arranged over the cushions.

Aziraphale basked in the afterglow, trying not to think of all that could happen tomorrow. He fell asleep curled up in Crowley’s arms.

***

They awoke just before sunrise the next morning. Crowley took Aziraphale over to his larder, which was at the end of a short tunnel.

Jars of honey, jam, oil, and various sauces lined the shelves, along with preserved meat, pickled vegetables, dried fruits and herbs. clay pots sat on the floor filled with grains and potatoes. Rat traps were dotted here and there, but they were empty, much to Crowley's disappointment.

After a light breakfast they made their way over to the exit.

Aziraphale peeked out from behind the thick curtain. The sky was overcast. The sun wasn’t fully up yet, but he still found himself squinting against the light as he looked down over the beach.

Crowley kept back, hiding in the shadows, his wide-brimmed hat pulled down over his eyes.

“Are you sure you're ready?” Crowley said. “Do you have enough food and water?”

Aziraphale patted his satchel. “I've plenty. Don't worry.”

“I'll wait here for you but take as long as you need. I’ll listen out for you.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Aziraphale moved away from the curtain and stepped into the shadows to give Crowley a kiss. “I'll come back as soon as I can. Once I've found Anathema and introduced myself to the villagers as best I can. When people find out I can translate for you, I'm sure they'll be keen for a chat.”

Crowley let out a laugh. “Yeah, you'll probably come back with the entire village.”

“I’m sure everyone will be brimming with questions.” Aziraphale gave his hand a squeeze before reluctantly letting go. “I'll see you soon.”

Crowley's breath hitched. “Yeah. See you soon, angel.”

There was so much Aziraphale wanted to say. I love you. I'll miss you. But he worried it would be too much. Instead, he gave Crowley one last kiss before stepping out through the curtain into the open. He descended the stairs, his stomach in knots, and once he got to the bottom he looked up and saw Crowley peeking out through a gap in the curtain, shielding his eyes with his hat. They waved to each other and then Aziraphale forced himself to turn around and set off down the path towards the village. By the time he'd made it to the sand dunes his eyes had adjusted to the sun almost completely. He turned around to give Crowley one last wave, but the opening in the mountain was now obscured, and Crowley had vanished from view. Aziraphale suddenly felt very alone.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale followed the dirt path as it twisted between the sand dunes. The sea breeze was refreshing, and Aziraphale might have enjoyed the walk if it weren’t for his anxiety. Still, it felt good to be back above ground.

Sand gave way to soil, and soon flowering bushes lined both sides of the path which was now paved and well cared for.

He’d only been walking for a few minutes when a small wooden cabin came into view at the side of the path. The door flew open and a man holding a strange contraption barrelled out.

“Halt! Who goes there?!” the man yelled, using the same language as New Haven.

Aziraphale froze.

The man marched towards him while pointing the odd-looking apparatus at him. It reminded Aziraphale of a tuba, but the man was holding it like a weapon. “Ye must be from the mountain tunnels. What’s yer crime? Kill a man?”

“N-No! I’d never hurt anyone! I swear it!”

“Ye must've done something. We’ll hae to keep ye in custody.”

A younger man, tall and bespectacled, came rushing out of the cabin and gently urged the other man to lower his weapon.

“Sorry. This is Sargent Shadwell. He’s just trying to protect the village. Welcome to Tadfield. I'm Newt. I’m guessing you’re from New Haven and the snake-man of the mountains guided you here?”

Aziraphale nodded, and after a moment he found his voice. “Yes. His name is Crowley. I speak his language. I can help you communicate with him.”

Newt’s face lit up. “That’s great news.”

“I don't trust that snake man,” Shadwell muttered. “I bet he’s got too many nipples.”

Newt let out a long-suffering sigh and rolled his eyes before returning his attention to Aziraphale and giving him a reassuring smile. “I’m glad you can talk to Crowley. He’s very highly thought of in the village.”

Shadwell jutted out his chin. “Ye should ask him how many nipples-”

“Come inside,” Newt interrupted. “I’ll put the kettle on. We can have some biscuits. I’m sure you’ve had a rough few days.”

Shadwell put himself between Aziraphale and the door. “What’s yer crime?”

Aziraphale gulped, resisting the urge to run back to Crowley. “I’m innocent, I swear!”

Newt quickly cut in. “Many of the others from New Haven were accused of things that aren't actually illegal here. This isn't a religious community. Is there anyone that can vouch for you?”

“Anathema! She’ll vouch for me! She's one of my dearest friends. She came through about three weeks ago. Please tell me she’s okay.”

Newt grinned. “Yeah, she’s doing great. She’s staying with Tracy.”

Relief flooded through Aziraphale.

Shadwell pulled out a pencil and a notebook. “Right. What time is it, Private Pulsifer?”

“7:25am.”

Shadwell scribbled in his notebook and then fixed Aziraphale with an intense look. “Name?”

“Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Aziraphale Fell.”

Shadwell eyed him warily. “Is that a fake name, laddie?”

Aziraphale knew ‘Fell’ and ‘-phale’ sounding so similar had a habit of throwing people off. “No, it's a family name. My mother named me after her grandfather. Anathema can confirm it's my real name.”

“Wait… You’re the traveling storyteller?” said Newt. “Anathema told me all about you!”

Aziraphale beamed. “All good things, I hope.”

“How do ye spell that?” asked Shadwell.

Aziraphale spelled his name out for him. Shadwell’s handwriting was messy, but Aziraphale was impressed all the same. He wondered if it was common here for people to be able to read and write, just like it was common for Crowley’s people.

“So what crime did they sentence ye to death for? Don't think I didn't notice ye avoiding the question earlier.”

“They decided one of my books went against ‘their religious beliefs’ and sentenced me to death for it.” At least he was safe to say that much, knowing they weren't religious.

Shadwell let out a disappointed noise. “Why don’t we ever get any murderers? It’s been ages since I last made an arrest.”

Newt patted him on the back. “Maybe next time.”

“Or maybe the next criminal will tell us ye were a murderer all along, eh, Fell?” Shadwell said hopefully. His eyes suddenly widened. “Was anyone who came before ye a murderer?”

“Certainly not.”

Shadwell deflated.

“Was your book Pagan or something?” Newt asked as he opened the door to the cabin. “Anathema said she was arrested for being a witch. Completely fine here, of course.”

“Or was your book too raunchy for their delicate sensibilities?” Shadwell said.

Aziraphale blushed.

“Hah! I knew it!”

The inside of the cabin was small, consisting of a single room with a kitchenette off to one side and a lavatory out back. Newt put the kettle on and made tea while Aziraphale and Shadwell sat opposite each other at a large table covered in newspapers and old mugs.

Shadwell asked more questions while scribbling in his book, and then Newt put a plate of biscuits in front of them and handed out cups of tea.

“How does Crowley feel about humans appearing in his caves?” Newt asked as he sat down. “It’s his home, right?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes. He just wants to make sure we’re safe. He thought we were sacrifices, but I've explained the situation to him. The plan is for me to stay in the tunnels with him so I can help with any new victims. I can translate for them and tell them about your village.”

Newt nodded. “That sounds good. The other victims were rather traumatised by the whole ordeal. It was clear Crowley was trying to help them, but between being tied up in the dark and not being able to communicate with him properly… Well, I’m sure you get the idea. There was talk of building stairs on the inside of the cave entrance, so Crowley won't have to lift people up. But we weren't sure if we’d upset him by messing with his space. We couldn’t exactly ask him before now. We don't want him to think we're trying to take over or anything. We just want to help.”

“That's a wonderful idea. I’m sure he’d appreciate it. I've been trying to teach him our language to make things easier, but I definitely think it would be best for me to stay with him so I can translate for new people.”

“Will you be alright stuck in the caves though? We can get you a place to live in the village. You wouldn't have to stay with Crowley all the time. We might even be able to get you on the payroll with us if you’re helping Crowley.”

Aziraphale liked the idea of getting paid to do what he was planning to do anyway.

Shadwell crossed his arms. “You want him to join the Criminal Finder Army?”

“We’re called the Mountain Guard, Sargent. And yes. If the council allows it.”

“I’d certainly like to join,” said Aziraphale.

Shadwell scribbled in his notebook. “We could make a new division. The Tunnel Guard of the Criminal Finder Army.”

Newt glanced at the clock on the wall. “How about I take Aziraphale over to Anathema’s place so she can vouch for him in person? She should be awake by now.”

Aziraphale felt giddy at the thought of seeing Anathema again. He downed the dregs of his tea. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

Shadwell got to his feet. “Alright, Private Pulcifer. I’ll escort ye.” He pocketed his pencil and notebook and then picked up his weapon, known as the thundergun. He’d kept it close the entire time. Clearly, he still didn’t fully trust Aziraphale.

They walked into the heart of the seaside village, wandering by numerous shops, a tavern, the village hall, and a marketplace. Fishing boats bobbed in the harbour, and there was a large beach - much bigger than Crowley’s beach - where people were picking seashells in the early morning sun.

Two middle-aged ladies walked by holding hands. Aziraphale didn’t think much of it until he saw two men on a bench kissing. Blatantly. Right in front of everyone.

Aziraphale’s mouth dropped open, and he almost tripped over his own feet in his surprise. A cold sweat came over him. He feared for them. Overwhelmed, he looked around, but no one else seemed to have noticed. Thank goodness, or all hell would surely break loose. He looked back at the pair, wondering if he’d imagined the entire thing, but no, they were still locked at the lips. Did they have a death wish?

“Didnae yer mother ever teach ye it was rude to stare?” asked Shadwell.

“I- Er… Terribly sorry…” Aziraphale hurried to catch up with Shadwell and Newt, keeping his head down. His face felt hot, and his mind was reeling.

“Homosexuality is legal here,” Newt said gently. “Anathema told me it’s illegal in New Haven.”

Shadwell grunted. “It ain’t right though - people sticking their tongues down each other’s throats like that in public.” After a moment, he gave Aziraphale a curious look. “What was in yer saucy book anyway? Racy pictures?”

Aziraphale’s face burned.

“I knew it. So, are ye a boob or butt man?”

“Shadwell!” Newt hissed, giving him a pointed look.

“Aha. Yer a pansy, eh? A butt guy then.”

“Good lord. I’m not- Don’t be absurd!” Aziraphale’s stomach twisted. How had Shadwell figured him out? His panic turned to anger. He'd been called a pansy before. For not liking sports, for being too delicate, for not being manly enough. It brought back painful memories. “How dare you call me names!”

Shadwell looked taken aback. “I ain’t!” He looked distraught as he turned towards Newt. “Ain’t that one o’ their symbolic flowers? Pansies are all the colours of the rainbow, and gay people are all about rainbows. There's always pansies in front of the gay tavern.”

Aziraphale’s fury turned to bewilderment. “Rainbows? Gay tavern? What are you blathering about?”

Newt stepped between them. “Sorry, Aziraphale. The word ‘Pansy’ has been reclaimed. It doesn’t have negative connotations here anymore. Shadwell didn’t mean to offend. Or make assumptions.”

“Aye. Sorry,” said Shadwell, looking embarrassed.

“No harm done, I suppose,” Aziraphale said icily.

“Come on,” said Newt. “It’s this cottage up ahead.”

“I’m sure Tracy and Anathema would be more than happy to take ye to the gay tavern. Once yer settled in, o’ course.”

“I don’t want to go to your blasted gay tavern!” Aziraphale snapped. He froze, breath coming sharp and fast. How would Anathema react to Shadwell’s accusations? Would she believe him? She’d come from the west, far over the sea. She had unusual ideas and customs, but the likelihood of her sharing the same beliefs as these people was slim to none. “Don’t repeat any of this nonsense to Anathema.”

“We won’t say a word,” said Newt. “Right, Sargent?”

Shadwell nodded. “Right.”

“But just so you know,” Newt went on, “Anathema is very open minded. And observant. As I said, she’s mentioned you before. She said you’d love it here, that you’d fit right in.”

“She knows I like seaside towns,” Aziraphale said, because that had to be what she’d meant.

They soon arrived at Tracy’s little cottage, with its thatched roof and red roses around the front door.

Newt fussed with his hair and straightened his shirt before taking a deep breath and knocking on the door.

Shadwell stood, thundergun in hand, no doubt ready to use it in the event that Anathema saw Aziraphale and immediately screamed in terror.

After a moment or two, the door opened, revealing Anathema holding a cup of coffee.

“Hi, Newt!” she said, looking delighted. “Aziraphale!” She almost dropped her coffee but quickly shoved it onto a side table with trembling hands. “I never thought I'd see you again! Oh, come here!” She pulled him into a hug, holding him tight. Aziraphale squeezed her back, tears coming to his eyes. It felt so good to see her again, to know she was safe, to have someone in this village he could trust.

Newt stepped back and just stood there awkwardly. Shadwell lowered his gun.

“Come in, all of you,” Anathema said with a huge smile.

“Thank ye kindly, but I’ll be heading back,” Shadwell said. “Paperwork to fill in. And I need to make sure no one else sneaks out of those tunnels.”

Once Shadwell had left, Aziraphale and Newt followed Anathema into the kitchen.

Anathema filled the kettle. “Gabriel arrested you too, huh?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Aziraphale.

“I did worry he’d come after you next.”

“They searched my home and… Well. They found a book they rather disapproved of.”

“I'm so sorry. I hate the circumstances that brought you here, but I'm so glad you’re here. I’d been hoping you’d start traveling again and find a way around the mountains somehow. It’s so good to see you. How did you find your time with the snake-man?”

“His name is Crowley, and he’s an absolute delight. As luck would have it, I'm fluent in his language. They call themselves naga, by the way.”

Anathema's mouth dropped open. “You can talk to him?! That's perfect! He’s a naga, huh? We’ve been calling them snake-folk. Better than snake-demon, I suppose,” she said, wrinkling up her nose. “He was so kind to me, even after- I should apologise to him.” She bit her lip. “I thought he was going to attack me. That’s what Gabriel and everyone had said. I always keep a bread knife hidden in my belt...”

She looked ashamed. Newt’s lack of a reaction, save for a look of empathetic understanding, suggested she'd already told him what had happened.

“Crowley told me,” Aziraphale said gently. “It's okay, he knows you only did it because you were scared. You didn’t hurt him.”

“Thank goodness. I feel awful. I could’ve seriously injured him.”

“Everything worked out in the end. He really enjoyed the cake you made for him. He shared it with me. I told him it was yours. Utterly scrumptious.”

Anathema let out a laugh. “It was the least I could do. When I first arrived, they took me to see Tracy. She vouched for me and let me stay with her. Being a witch isn't a crime here. Neither is being a sex worker. That first evening we did some baking to take my mind off things. Tracy said she missed my cakes, so I couldn't resist. I'm glad Crowley enjoyed it. I'll make him another one soon. In the meantime, I've got some freshly baked cookies. What else does he like?”

“He was rather taken with the raspberry jam.”

“Oh, that was Tracys! I’m sure she’ll have a spare jar or two for him. She’s still asleep, but I know she won’t mind if it’s for Crowley. Anything else?”

“He likes wine too.”

“I definitely have some of that,” Anathema said with a laugh. “Have they found you somewhere to stay? Maybe you could stay here. There’s a spare room, although it’s a little small. I’ll talk to Tracy. You're not planning to put him in a cell, are you?” Anathema gave Newt a stern look.

“Nope. If you trust him, then we trust him.”

“Actually, I'm going back with Crowley,” said Aziraphale. “I’d like to help him with any future victims. Thank you for the offer though.”

Anathema nodded thoughtfully. She turned her attention to Newt. “You could employ Aziraphale to do that. And employ Crowley! We need to pay him in more than just food.”

“That’s what I was thinking too,” said Newt. “We’re going to talk to the council about it.”

Anathema handed Aziraphale a steaming mug of coffee. “You won’t struggle to earn a living here. We’ve all managed to find work. Agnes practices medicine. Women are allowed to be doctors here! I’ve been working with her. I was only allowed to be a midwife in New Haven - despite all the medical training I had back home. You could be a literacy teacher, if you want. Or you could see if there's a job going at the library. Most people can read here, but books are still ever so expensive. There are plenty of options for you, with or without the Mountain Guard.”

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up. “A library?”

“Yeah! For a small fee, you can borrow any book you want, and- Oh!” Anathema leapt to her feet and grabbed a book from a shelf. “This one is really interesting. A History of Tadfield and New Haven. It’s still got a couple of weeks left on it if you’d like to borrow it?”

“Oh, yes please. Did the two villages once interact?”

“They certainly did.” Anathema dropped the book into Aziraphale’s eager hands. “That huge boulder in New Haven that blocks off the cave? It was put there a little over a hundred years ago, but it had nothing to do with the naga. New Haven wanted to block off access to Tadfield because they decided the people were too sinful. Before that, the tunnel was used for trading between the two villages. It’s all chronicled in this book.”

Aziraphale was shocked but not surprised. “Why don’t the people in New Haven know of any of this? I’ve seen the archives. None of this was written down. There was mention of the boulder blocking the cave, but it just said….” He trawled his memory. “To protect from sinful creatures.” Aziraphale let out a bitter laugh. Everyone had thought it was a reference to the naga. Clearly, it’d been a reference to the people of Tadfield all along. “Good grief.”

The corner of Newt’s lip quirked up in amusement. “Yep. We’re the sinful creatures.”

Aziraphale looked down at the history book in his hands. “Well, I’m glad your people had the foresight to jot everything down.”

Newt smiled. “Yeah, me too. It’s also taught in history lessons at school. The first thing the New Haveners did was burn down the wooden staircase at our end, making it practically impossible to get from one side to the other. They even ripped out the railing that ran alongside the underground river.”

The river where Aziraphale had fallen in.

“They forbade their people from speaking to us or trading with us,” said Newt. “But in the end they had to use that boulder to stop their people from fleeing to our side. Some people had family here. Friends. It’s said that the last group that escaped from New Haven knew about the plans to block the exit with the boulder. They fled in the night, knowing it was their last chance. They had to be hauled up at our end with ropes. There’s even a quote of a man saying he came to Tadfield simply because he refused to go the rest of his life without having fish and chips on the beach.”

A laugh burst out of Aziraphale. “I can understand that one. But it’s strange that no one in New Haven seems to have heard of Tadfield. A hundred years isn’t that long, all told. Only a few generations back. Something like this should have been passed down from generation to generation.”

Anathema shrugged. “People were probably forbidden from talking about it. And some people would have been glad Tadfield had been cut off and wouldn’t want their offspring to know about it.”

“We were surprised too,” said Newt. “When Crowley first started bringing people to us, we assumed they were New Haveners who’d been banished for not being religious enough or something. Finding out they’d been left there to die…” He shuddered. “I’m so glad Crowley was able to help you all.”

“We were very lucky he was there,” said Anathema.

Newt looked down into his coffee, a thoughtful look on his face. “How did the people in New Haven even know there was a naga in the caves? Surely they have no reason to move that boulder? Someone must have rolled it back and seen him. And then … what? Decided to feed people they didn’t like to him?”

“That’s pretty much it, yes,” said Aziraphale. “According to the records, Gabriel had the boulder rolled back because several people believed they heard noises coming from inside the cave. Gabriel was worried someone found a way in – a child maybe - so he had the rock rolled back and searched inside. The records say he went into the tunnels with a torch and found Crowley, curled up in the dark, fast asleep. I asked Crowley about it, and he doesn’t remember. He must’ve slept right through it. According to Gabriel though, even in sleep Crowley cringed away from the torch flame, so he decided naga are scared of fire. Thank goodness Gabriel ran away instead of attacking Crowley. He described Crowley as huge. His tail is rather long, I grant you. But I suspect his imagination got the better of him.”

“Or he was exaggerating so he wouldn’t seem like a coward in front of his friends,” Anathema said.

“That too.”

They sat around the table, chatting and drinking coffee until Aziraphale noticed the time on the wall clock. “Good lord, it’s 10am! I’d better be heading back. Crowley must be worried sick.”

“Take some jam and wine with you,” Anathema said, heading over to the pantry. “Although... Can I come along? I’d like to apologise and thank him for helping me. Maybe you could teach me how to say thank you in his language?”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said with a smile. “Newt, would you like to meet him too?”

Newt’s eyes widened. “Yeah. I’d like to meet him properly. I’ve never been up close to him before.”

“I’d like to bring Tracy, but she hates being woken up before midday,” said Anathema. “She stays up late giving seances, and… and other stuff. But I suppose we shouldn’t overwhelm Crowley. Tracy can visit him another time.”

They went via the market. Anathema bought some hot food for them to share with Crowley - an early lunch - and then they stopped off at the Mountain Guard’s cabin. Newt went in to tell Shadwell they were going to visit Crowley while Anathema and Aziraphale waited outside. Finally, a chance to talk in private.

Aziraphale gave Anathema a conspiratorial smile. “I think Newt likes you,” he whispered.

Anathema sighed. “I know. Even worse, I think I like him back.”

“How romantic!”

“Never mind that. What about you? You don't need to hide anymore. You can date whoever you want!”

Aziraphale’s stomach flipped.

“Homosexuality isn’t a crime here! Isn’t that wonderful? Finally, you can be yourself without-”

“Shhh!” Aziraphale hissed. “What makes you think-? Did someone say something?” Were Newt and Shadwell spreading rumours?

Anathema gave him a fond look. “I’ve known since the moment I met you. It’s in your aura.”

“My Aura? Good grief.” Aziraphale stared at the sand dunes without really seeing them, utterly astounded. Anathema knew. She’d known this entire time and had still wanted to be his friend. There were tears in his eyes. “It really doesn’t bother you?”

She touched his arm. “Of course not. You really didn’t know that I knew? I tried to drop subtle hints. Remember me saying how we can’t help who we fall in love with? And I tried to fix you up with the greengrocer.”

“Steven is homosexual?!”

“Yeah. But he ended up with the blacksmith.”

Aziraphale leaned heavily against the wall as he tried to take all of this in.

“There's this one guy I know - a maths teacher. He's super clever. I think you'll like him. I can introduce you.”

“I- I don't think...” Aziraphale only had eyes for Crowley, but he could hardly tell Anathema that. Trust Aziraphale to arrive in a place where homosexuality was allowed and still have to keep his relationship a secret.

“It doesn’t have to be immediate. Only when you’re ready. Oh! And there's this other guy. A fisherman. Muscles for days, if that's your thing.”

“Thank you, but I’d rather not.”

“Never say never,” Anathema said with a good-natured laugh. “You haven’t met someone already have you? Got it on with Crowley?”

It was clearly a joke, but she must have seen the truth of it in his eyes. He suddenly felt like a rabbit caught in the path of an oncoming cart.

Anathema’s eyes went huge. “Oh my God, did you?”

“Don't be silly,” Aziraphale said, unable to look her in the eye.

“You did! I can tell! You bonked the snake boy! I can't believe this.”

“Shhh! Don't be so crude!”

“You old devil,” she said with a laugh. “Tell me, how far up do the scales go?”

“Anathema! Really! A gentleman never tells.”

“Does his you-know-what have scales?”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, they don't have scales.”

Anathema looked confused. “They?”

Fuck. “I'm sure Crowley would rather I didn’t describe what he looks like naked.”

“Sorry. You’re just so adorable when you’re flustered. Crowley seems lovely. He’s kind. And very strong.” She winked.

“Don't tell anyone about this! I mean it! I don't know how people would react. We’re planning to use the sacrifice rescuing thing as a cover for spending time together in the caves. This is a secret, okay? Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“I don't want an angry mob coming after Crowley and myself with pitchforks. I can’t risk Crowley getting hurt. I shouldn't have admitted to it.”

“I won't tell a soul, I promise. I don’t know for sure how people would react, but I can tell you right now that Crowley has a bit of a Fanclub – plenty of people here think he's hot.”

Aziraphale’s lip twitched. “Well, at least they have good taste. And thank you. It’s nice to know I have someone here who’s on my side.”

“Of course I’m on your side. You can always talk to me, okay? About anything.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale couldn’t resist pulling her into a hug.

He released her when Newt emerged from the cabin, and then they all headed off to see Crowley.

Aziraphale felt giddy at the thought of seeing Crowley again, even though they’d only been apart for a few hours. It was still the longest they’d been apart since they’d first met.

Chapter Text