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and watch how you play

Who: Aziraphale and the Crowleys (Anthony and Alec)
What: A picnic with chaperone. The ineffables have been having memories of each other and Alec is determined to keep them from destroying their lives over it.
When: May 11, noonish
Where: New York Botanical Gardens
Rating/Warnings: None--if Alec has his way.

It was a chilly, dreary day befitting Aziraphale's mood when he woke up. No hangover, thank goodness, but he did sleep in, which meant his morning was spent in a rush acquiring the necessary goods for the picnic.

He packed a selection of cheeses and a baguette, crackers and a fig compote, some grapes and small oranges (and wasn't this getting heavy now), and a bottle of red wine (because Anthony had shown a preference for it and it certainly fit with Aziraphale's). It was turning out a little fancy and a tiny bit romantic, unfortunately, but then again...weren't all picnics (that weren't children's peanut-butter-and-jam sandwiches and riddled with ants) a little romantic? That was the nature of a picnic.

(Oh, but was that enough food? Maybe he would pick up a few sandwiches on the way, just in case. And some cake.)

But this would be a nice, friendly picnic between two Friends and allies and they could discuss Aziraphale's memory. It hadn't even occurred to him that Alec might have mentioned any part of Aziraphale's conversation at the Gala to Anthony--mostly because he'd spent the better part of the morning trying to prepare for a picnic he probably should have just cancelled. But he was determined to keep this completely normal. They were adults. They could sit there and be civil and talk about things without being weird.

This was healing, right? Making his peace with the fact that the emotions stirred by memories were not reality?

Aziraphale, bundled in a warm coat and a nice scarf, arms just a little tired of carrying the picnic basket, paid for his own admission to the gardens since he had already been planning to come for the art event, and sent off a text.

I'm here! Do not rush on my account.
Is there any place in particular you would like to meet?
I'm afraid it did not warm up as much as I had hoped.

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Alec is standing not far from the entrance of the gardens, freezing his arse off. He should have brought a new winter coat, he supposed, but it was bloody May. He chuffs his arms and then his phone goes off. He blinks for a moment at Fell's name and message. For a second it's if the man is speaking to him-- but then he realizes he must have gotten the wrong number again.

Poor bastard.

He was going to have a hell of a time.

He spotted the man nearby and came up to him, sniffing a little in the cold.

"Fell." A nod.

"Crowley!"

He beamed with delight, hurrying over to say hello. They might have parted on an awkward note, but he was still infinitely fond of Crowley and the man was a welcome sight to his nerves. Well. He was for a moment.

"Wait," he stopped beside him, frowning with suspicion (and with concern at the obvious shivering). Suddenly the picnic basket in his hands felt very heavy and very in need of being hidden. "What the devil are you doing here? Did Anthony invite you?"

He wasn't surprised that Anthony hadn't said anything. Probably for the better really. Or was it? He didn't know.

"Yeah." He didn't bother to ask if it was alright because they all knew it wasn't. "You might want to recheck your text, by the way." And then just to ease some of the burden on the poor man.

"I can...carry your basket?"

He turned pink. Had he mis-messaged again? "I'm very sorry about that.
But I believe we're to meet at the Stone Mill. We can take the tram, since it would otherwise be a bit of a walk."

He had over-packed the basket, so it should be his burden to bear, tempting as it was to hand it off to Crowley.

"While I appreciate it, are you even sure you could?" he said, clutching the basket closer, like a shield.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he tried not to sound too cross. "I'm not going to blow away with a strong wind you know." he started in the direction of the Tram, making sure Fell was beside him.

"You can put my name as Alec in your contacts if you think that'd help."

Aziraphale pinched his mouth into a tight line and considered this. And did not agree. Crowley did look like he might blow away. He was thin, cold, and fragile in his own way.

"But that's not what I call you. And that's not what you introduced yourself as. No," he resolved. "I'll just pay better attention next time."

As they approached the tram stop, he sighed. "Fine, it is a bit heavy after all this time. If you'd still like to carry it--" He held up the basket and waited with a soft expression.

Well he had to give him respect and gratitude for that, even if it was almost dashed a few moments later by the patronizing way he handed up the basket. Honestly. He wasn't bloody dying yet. What did Fell think he was some poor scarecrow of a man that would fall over at the slightest touch.

Still he said nothing and just took the basket as if it wasn't a big deal. It was a bit heavier than he anticipated but nothing that would cause strain.

"Don't be offended if I don't eat much."

"Don't be offended if I didn't pack enough. Anthony conveniently failed to mention we'd have a guest."

Though there still should be plenty of food. However, the basket was packed for a lunch for two, so while he'd managed an extra set of utensils and plenty of napkins, he'd failed to include enough plates or cups. If only Anthony had bothered to inform him, Aziraphale wouldn't have to feel like a very bad host. "Oh, drat! I don't think I have enough dishware either. Well, you can have my glass. Or something. We'll figure it out."

He checked the sign posted. They had to wait just a little for the tram.

"I'm sorry, I should have asked earlier, but are you warm enough?"

"Don't worry about it." Numerous things. Dishware. Food. Drinks. He would do his best to stay out of it while not staying very much out of it at all.

"I'm fine." He'd suffered through worse. He'd grown up in Scotland after all. Warm days were few and far between. Even in May.

He regarded the man.

"How are you?"

"Fussing is what I do, remember?"

Aziraphale wanted to forfeit his scarf to his friend, but he didn't want to risk insulting him. If Crowley said he was fine, Aziraphale would have to keep that bit of fussing to himself.

"I'm fine," he said after a moment of fidgeting. "Thank you. I am, really. I'm here, and Anthony and I can still be friends and discuss these things that are happening to us, and everything will be well."

That was so easy to say right now, standing next to Alec in a cold garden, feeling small self-contained. But then he would see that burst of red hair and that grin and he'd forget himself again. He'd be part of a secret shared, filled with multitudes of emotion and a story he didn't know the whole of.

"It's always so easy to believe that in the times between seeing him," he admitted. "But enough of that. You're always listening to me and we won't know how I really am until we get there. How are you? Have you--have there been any more?"

"I know the feeling. That moment when you see them and you just-- just forget all the bad things. For just that moment...everything is beautiful." You forgot that things had fallen apart. You were always too busy. She was always too busy. At the end of the day, you just weren't enough and ending was the only outcome.

"It's hard to let that go." He wasn't sure he ever would be able to do and God only knew how Fell would. He was beginning to be concerned that Anthony felt the same way for this man. It wouldn't bother him if he didn't think it was engineered, if Grace wasn't also in the picture-- but it was and she was and it seemed geared toward some nefarious purpose.

He blinked at the question and shook his head.

"No... Nothing yet. Maybe it was a fluke in my case." He could only hope. Maybe it was a selfish thing to wish but he wanted the bastards out of his head.

Edited 2020-05-12 22:37 (UTC)

"I'm not sure I've ever had anything this badly before." He wanted to ask more about this person who Crowley had loved so much but who had been so terrible for him. But that would be prying and he really shouldn't. Not here in public, right before this whole inevitable disaster. He would rather Crowley told him things on his own terms. "But I imagine it is. We'll get through it."

The tram was beginning to pull up.

"Let us hope. But if you'd ever like to talk about it..." he offered, boarding the tram and settling into a seat. He gently placed a hand on the basket near Crowley's hand. "I am your friend, Crowley. That means I intend to look after you just as much as you have done for me."

"It was a long time ago." He gestured that Fell get on the Tram first and followed him, sighing a little at the relative warmth. He needed to get a heavier jacket at some point. Though it might be later than sooner if things kept going the way they were.

"We'll get through it," he agreed. "So long as we keep our heads."

He held his tongue and didn't ask how long, or what was she like, or do you still love her. Instead, just a sympathetic, "Oh, Crowley."

"I'm afraid you may be the only one of the three of us capable of that," he said as the tram started to move along, the driver providing audio commentary in the form of a tour of the passing parts of the garden.

He ignored the strange squeezing pulse in his heart when Fell said his name like that. Instead he shrugged, staring straight ahead.

"I have confidence." Only no he didn't, which was why he was here to begin with.

He absently listened to the audio, not really caring about it. Mostly he tried to think of how this might go-- Wrong, he knew, that was inevitable. But hopefully he could keep it at just a bad time and not a disaster waiting to happen.

The audio droned on for the relatively short tram ride and Aziraphale missed having the basket if only to have something to do with his hands. So he drummed his fingers on his knees and listened to the tram drive through puddles, enjoyed the sounds of the dull murmur of the other passengers talking, and watched the flowers and trees as they passed by.

And thought about Anthony tending to the garden...

Until there Anthony was in person, in all his fiery glory, a bright tempting wildflower against a backdrop of a dreary day, and Aziraphale's heart beat a traitorous, triumphant fanfare in his chest.

He shot Crowley a panicked look and then urged him out of the tram. Aziraphale was so incredibly fucked.

He had been gifted a good twenty minutes of down time to pull a dark jacket over his NYBG green Polo in an attempt not to look quite so ordinary and there had been plenty of chilly Spring quiet while he sat in the driver's seat of his Official golf cart waiting for Fell to appear. He had tried to use that silence to order his thoughts. No matter what sort of daydreams, or fainting spells he had, he wasn't a demon... He was an ordinary normal human living an ordinary human life. That's all there was to it and Mr. Too-much-starch-in-his-drawers creepy bureaucrat wasn't going to convince him otherwise! No implanted delusion of being pressed up against the man, so close that his warm breath could be felt drifting past his own cheek... that unimpressed way Aziraphale had looked at him, totally unconcerned about his anger... Anthony could forget all about that because it wasn't real!

Until the Tram pulled up and Aziraphale stepped off, making all those delusions real enough to send his heart pounding against his rib cage. Anthony dropped off the golf cart, his stride having developed an usual hip swinging swagger as he made his way over to collect the new arrivals.

"Aziraphale!"

And here he had thought the meeting would be awkward, but he felt himself smiling warmly, absolutely thrilled to see the fellow again. Oh and Alec was there too, with the picnic basket that looked heavier than he was.

"Alec."

His cousin was given a nod as the basket was freed from his clutches before it knocked him down and squished him.

"You can take off if you want to. It's just a couple of old friends meeting for lunch... whats the worse that could happen?"

....Fuck.

Anthony didn't just smile, his entire being lit up when he saw Fell. It almost hurt how much that expression was scrawled across his face. He had it bad for Fell. Very bad. Despite everything they'd talked about, Anthony wanted to be alone with him. Alec was being shoved out of it.

"Do you want me to?" he stared into his cousin's eyes. "It's your choice, but you can't have it both ways."

He refused to let Anthony drag either Fell or Grace along with him in this indecision.

"Anthony!" His smile was bright, even if his greeting was a little more hesitant than the one he received.

He glanced between the two cousins.

"Oh, come on, now. Don't be like that." He put on a scolding tone that ended up something more like a pout. Aziraphale took Crowley by the elbow, less to keep him from leaving and more don't leave me. Although he hated to think they needed a chaperone, maybe it was better that they had one, because glowing affection was building in his chest and it hurt like the dickens. Anthony's smile was infectious, and it was all his. Not for Crowley, or Grace, or anyone else. It was entirely Aziraphale's (or so his covetous, deluded little heart liked to think).

But it really wasn't his. And he knew that, logically. Anthony was his friend. His very newly engaged friend. So he needed an anchor to reality, and while Anthony may not have invited Crowley for him, may not have actually invited Crowley at all, Aziraphale saw an opportunity and seized it. Better judgement won over his weak, desperate and adoring heart.

Or was it really better judgement if it meant using Crowley against his cousin?

"Crowley's come so far, has been nice enough to carry my basket for me; you can't just send him away. He wouldn't be imposing at all." He turned a nice, soft look toward Alec. "You'll stay, won't you?"

His cousin was given a look. One of those thousand yard stares that said he very much was intruding, thank you, but nothing more would be said against it. Instead the picnic basket was slung over his shoulder like some kind of hip backpack and Anthony lead the way back to the closed off building.

"This way people."

Normally the Stone Mill was off the tour guides. It was used for special occasions, weddings and such, but the place was entirely deserted today. Anthony pulled one of the keys off his key-chain and unlocked the door so his two guests could enter. It was much warmer inside with the thick stone walls cutting the wind.

"Table by the window work for you?"

He's going to hate everything about this. Including that look, making him feel even more out of place than ever as well as being a an idiot. He walked behind a bit, though close enough to reassure, sending Anthony a text as he went.

Fuck you. You agreed to this, you shit. If you want to have an affair its your own bloody business but at least have the courtesy to call it off with your fiancee first.

He didn't quite hear the question that was directed at him so ducked in and stood by the wall, arms folded, jaw working. he didn't trust himself to speak. So he just stood by the wall and seethed.

He shook himself out of admiring Anthony's strut and hurried after him, hoping Crowley would follow. Someone had to play his Jiminy Cricket and keep him honest.

It was much warmer inside, so Aziraphale began to shrug out of his coat and placed it over one of the unused tables. The bricks and beams gave the interior an industrial era charm that had been somewhat hidden by wedding decor the last time he was here. He had in mind a little teasing comment, something like : why thank you, garçon to Anthony's question about seating, but instead his attention was pulled away to Crowley.

"Look at you both! Now you're sulking. I feel like I shouldn't have come if this is going to amount to little more than me babysitting a spat between you two. We are all reasonable adult people. We can have a civil conversation and lunch together. I don't know what the problem is."

He had forgotten to turn off his phone so the annoying thing vibrated twice in his back pocket until he picked it up and scrolled through the message. It was sobering, helping to put many of those shattered pieces back into place. Feeling more grounded and a good deal ashamed of himself Anthony flicked the phone off and deflated into one of the chairs surrounding the before mentioned window table.

"The problem is," he nearly growled as he ran his hands through his hair, searching for the words to describe it, "I'm trying to live my life, be a normal human being... make mum proud by finding the right job, the right girl, the kind of life ever one ought to have, but I can't. I'm not normal! I keep having dreams about a guy I've barely met but I've known forever!"

He looked towards Aziraphale, his eyes deep with barely restrained thoughts.

"You wear the same aftershave. I noticed as soon as you got off the Tram."

God, he should have brought his pills for this. Fuck Anthony and Fell and the Bureau and this whole sodding situation.

His gaze flicked away from Anthony's briefly, and he eased back into the tabletop on which he'd just placed his coat. Perhaps he was a little scared of that intensity, but he feared it was more the opposite.

"And that is my fault, how?" he said, posture defensive and a little haughty, an anxious tinge to his otherwise firm tone. He licked his lips, looked ceiling-wards in a nervous tick, then back to Anthony. His fingers flexed their grip on the table edge. "I've been using it for ages--maybe you noticed the scent when you gave me a ride on your motorcycle. It wouldn't be difficult to re-imagine it in your dream. People have dreams about people they've barely met all the time. It doesn't have to mean anything!"

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and watch how you play

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<3

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