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Crowley put on his sunglasses and followed Aziraphale to the door. He stopped at the threshold and looked outside.
It was a sunny day. Only a few clouds offered the possibility of a brief respite from the unseasonably bright sunlight.
It was not the kind of day Hastur or Ligur was particularly likely to come to Earth, looking for him – or maybe it was exactly that kind of day; the kind of day they knew he wouldn't be expecting them to come.
“Crowley? Are you … quite well?” Aziraphale asked.
“...erm, yeah. Yeah. Thanks, angel. I'm … fine.” He was being ridiculous; that was all. If Hastur wanted to punish him for his role in stopping the Apocalypse, he would have already done so.
Months ago.
“Shall we?” Aziraphale gestured toward the path that led to the pond.
“Right. Yeah. Okay.” Crowley stepped outside.
He didn't see Hastur, or Ligur, or Dagon, or anyone else from Hell.
Only shrubs, trees, perennial – and a few annual – flowers; butterflies, flitting about among the daffodils – and Aziraphale, standing beside him with a picnic basket in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, smiling at the butterflies.
“Let's go, angel,” Crowley said.
Aziraphale's entire being lit up – metaphorically speaking. He led the way down the path to the pond and seated himself on the along the bank.
Crowley sat beside him.
Aziraphale took out a bag of frozen peas and offered it to him.
Crowley took a handful. He tossed a few peas to the nearest ducks.
The ducks quacked enthusiastically and went after the peas.
A very large koi surfaced and grabbed one of the peas, but the ducks got most.
Aziraphale tossed a handful of peas to the ducks and the fish.
Three koi got peas, this time; the ducks got the rest.
Crowley reached for another handful of peas.
Something rustled in the shrubbery.
Crowley froze.
Silently, he scented the air – and relaxed. He did not smell Hastur or Ligur or any other demon, besides himself, of course. Just … dogs.
A moment later, the dogs – a big brown Alsatian and a shaggy terrier mix – emerged from the shrubbery. The Alsatian barely glanced at him or Aziraphale. The terrier ignored them completely.
They were both watching the ducks intently – and they were moving closer.
Any second now, they would pounce and –
No. He wouldn't let them.
He would foil their plans. That was suitable demonic activity, foiling plans.
The dogs started to run.
“NOOO!” Crowley yelled.
The Alsatian stopped in her tracks and tucked her tail. The terrier yelped – and turned back to the ducks.
“COME HERE!!!”
Both dogs obeyed. The Alsatian wagged her tail, just a little.
“Oh, what wonderful dogs! Crowley, they stopped the moment you told them to!” Aziraphale exclaimed. He tossed a few of the peas toward the dogs.
The Alsatian ate several of them. Then she sat and stared at Aziraphale.
The terrier sniffed at the ground until he found one of the peas where it had rolled beneath a dandelion plant. He ate the pea. He, too, looked eagerly at Aziraphale.
Aziraphale, of course, complied; he tossed them several more peas.
Crowley sighed. The dogs were probably perfectly good pets, but he didn't want them anywhere near the ducks – and he knew they would go right back to stalking the ducks as soon as Aziraphale stopped distracting them with food. “Go home and be … ” he froze. He'd said something like that before. Go home and be good. That's what he said to the young woman in Edinburgh! That's why … Hastur … or someone … heard him.
That's why he dragged him down to Hell. For months.
That's why …
No. You're right here, at the pond, about to enjoy a lovely picnic with Aziraphale. There's no need to think of … that.
He wouldn't think of what Hastur and the others did, back then. Not now.
He also was not going to make the same mistake again.
“Go home and be bad,” Crowley told the dogs. “Be really, really bad. Be awful! Go chew up somebody's shoes, or … or … pee in the house … or dig a hole in the path, or … something,” he told the dogs. “But leave the ducks alone.”
The dogs ignored him. They were too busy eating the treats Aziraphale was giving them … treats that looked an awful lot like scones and … carrots?
Crowley shrugged. Those didn't really seem like typical dog treats, but the dogs didn't seem to mind. They ate their treats and – after Aziraphale told them to 'kindly return home – and do be so kind as to ignore any ducks you might see, in the future' – they trotted off.
“Thanks, angel,” Crowley told him.
Aziraphale looked confused. “For what?”
“For … you know. Telling them to leave the ducks alone.”
“Oh! My pleasure. I'm quite certain the ducks prefer to not be chased by dogs.”
Crowley looked at the ducks. They were swimming contentedly in the water, searching for the last few peas.
The koi were doing the same thing from below the surface.
Aziraphale took out two glasses and poured wine in each. He offered one to Crowley.
Crowley accepted it. He did not thank him. He gave a very small nod, instead. Hastur wouldn't notice that, even if he was watching.
He reached for another handful of peas and a bit of shredded kale. He tossed the lot into the water.
Aziraphale tossed another handful.
The ducks and koi seemed to enjoy their banquet.
There was still no sign of Hastur or anyone else from Hell.
Just himself, Aziraphale, the ducks, and the koi.
Aziraphale poured a glass of wine for each of them and filled their plates with food – sandwiches; lemon-blueberry scones; crêpes; a fruit salad made of pears, strawberries, and grapes; and peas.
Crowley drank his wine, ate his food – though he did toss some of the peas to the ducks and koi, when Aziraphale wasn't looking – and watched Aziraphale eat.
The sun was beginning to sink toward the horizon by the time Aziraphale finished eating.
Crowley snapped his fingers; the suddenly clean plates packed themselves in the picnic basket.
“Thank you, Crowley! That was so … erm … that was so very … sneaky of you, to foil my plan to clean up!”
Crowley shrugged. “No problem. It was … it was … not a terrible idea, the picnic.”
Aziraphale beamed at him. “I completely agree! It was not a terrible idea at all … erm … and the picnic wasn't terrible, either.” His smile faded and he looked at Crowley, obviously worried. “It was lovely,” he said hesitantly.
“Yeah,” Crowley assured him. “Really was, angel. Wouldn't mind doing this again, some day.”
“I would love to! Perhaps … tomorrow?”
“I dunno,” Crowley told him. “Don't really fancy a picnic in the rain.”
Aziraphale frowned. “That would not be the best weather for a picnic,” he admitted. “Perhaps … on the next day with lovely weather like today's, we'll come feed the ducks and the koi, and we'll foil the plans of anyone who wants to chase them – the ducks, rather – and we'll have a picnic?”
Crowley smiled. “Yeah. That works for me, angel.”
Aziraphale smiled at him. “I'm glad,” he said. He picked up the basket.
Crowley picked up the half-empty wine bottle.
Together, they returned to the cottage.