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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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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!"

"It's not your fault!"

That had come out too quickly and too harshly, just like everything else he had said so far today but he carried on as he needed Aziraphale to understand. Otherwise he would just go on accidentally hurting him and Anthony couldn't stand the thought of that.

"I don't want you to think it's your fault. I don't want to lead you on or hurt you... Or Grace."

His head rolled back towards his cousin.

"Or even Alec."

It was an apology of sorts as he had allowed Alec to tag along, had even wanted his help before when he had been terrified of what might happen if they were left alone. This. He had been absolutely terrified of this happening. Of having more memories that blurred the lines of reality.

"This time it wasn't a dream. Aziraphale, I was awake, looking at a piece of art about infinite love... I don't know if I understand what that even is. I don't know anything anymore... I don't know who my spotted pumpkin is."

Don't apologize to him. He doesn't even want to be in the room right now. He doesn't want to be witness to this. It was so bloody awkward he half wanted to sink into the ground, but he kept his arms tightly folded instead and glowered for all he was worth.

Also the spotted pumpkin comment was probably the best and worst endearment Alec had ever heard and he both felt a little ill and more than a little impressed.

The spotted pumpkin reference was so ridiculous, so awkwardly endearing, breaking for a second the cool attractive exterior to reveal a slightly dorky, sentimental, charming man beneath. Anthony was cute. He was a mess, but he was sweet and adorable. And Aziraphale, despite trying valiantly to distance himself, fell a little more in love. Dangerously, and for the first time he was aware of, it wasn't colored by the rosy lenses of memory's influence.

"Anthony..." he began and didn't have a follow-up. Aziraphale took a step toward him, still cautiously searching for the right words. He was acutely aware Alec was still in the room with them and it stayed his steps before he could come toe-to-toe with Anthony.

He wanted something profound, something supportive. Instead, he gave a soft, sad little huff and offered a small, tender smile.

"Maybe that's why they're screaming."

He is not going to say a bloody word, but he is going to silently mouth: 'what the fuck?' to himself. Because, really, what the fuck was this conversation even turning into? He felt he's turned the next page of a book only to fall into a different story altogether.

To have his name breathed with such fondness drew him to his feet and across that small distance Fell had already begun to close, but no further. He didn't reach out to touch the oddly adorable man as it felt like he stood on the other side of an invisible wall, instead Anthony stood on the side opposite looking in, screaming silently into the bluest soulful eyes he had ever seen just like those he were one of those silly pumpkins. There was a fond term, something on the tip of his tongue that he very much wanted to say. An answering call to his siren, but the nickname drifted away into the fog of memory.

"It's a good reason to scream."

He glanced aside, catching a look at Alec's upset stomach expression. Sorry cousin, he was making a bungle of this too, wasn't he?

"I was supposed to come here to call all this off, whatever this is, but I can't. I feel like I'm two people. When you are around I want to throw all the rules out the window, just run away together. When I'm with Grace its all, future and kids, and being the best person I can be... Am I loosing my mind?"

He drew in a shaky breath, trying to calm some of these raging emotions before they overran his senses entirely.

"But its not your fault. I don't want you to think any of this is your fault. I just wanted you to know... I need you to hear it once! I think I'm in love with you too."

"OH for fucks sake!" He couldn't do this any more. This hurt too much. Pushing off the wall he stalked toward the lovers before they spontaneously combusted.

"Fell-- I am sorry. Please forgive my idiot of a cousin for being a miserable idiot." And then he cut between them and grabbed Anthony by the collar to get his attention.

"You! All your life you've never cared what anyone thought. And now it's big happy family or is it just settling? If you want this and I bloody well think you do, then go at it, but e good to Grace when you let her go. Your mum is going to throw a bloody fit but she'll understand. Everyone will. Be happy, you gigantic fuckwit and stop making everyone else bloody miserable over it."

He shoved him back, nodded to Fell and then stormed out of the place, slamming the door behind him, his heart raging painfully against his ribs.

There was only so much pining a man could fucking take after all.

This was not how this lunch should have gone, but in retrospect, there was no way to put so many combustibles together with a catalyst and not expect a violent reaction.

His heart buoyed on that crest and sank. Run away together? ...You don't mean that. You can't-- Anthony was an engaged man. A very newly engaged man, and he was getting cold feet about the major life decision he had made, that was ALL. They were both confused by these so-called-memories, regardless of those soft glances and equally soft words, he was never supposed to know that Aziraphale was so wretchedly in love with him. Crowley had told. It should have been a betrayal of trust, but instead it was just Crowley coming to their rescue again.

And again. He gasped and reached for Crowley's shoulder to pull him back when he turned on Anthony, fingers left grazing his sleeve when he abruptly pulled away and Aziraphale was left stunned and alone with Anthony.

"Crowley!" The door slammed loud as a gunshot and brought him to his senses. Aziraphale took a step away from Anthony, straightening his clothing nervously, eyes darting to the door with indecision and a plea for a resolution. Come back and rescue me from myself, Crowley. Or: Go after him and spare us both, Anthony. Loyalties and love torn, Aziraphale himself settled cowardly on the option immediately before him, tugging lightly at the feeling of a thin red thread of connection.

"We shouldn't be doing this."

"Doing what having a picnic?"

At his own cutting remark his eyes settled on the basket which they had never even gotten around to opening. It was the typical sort of meal arrangement with Alec. They never went well. He shouldn't have been so bewildered... or hurt, by the way he had been yelled at and shoved aside. Anthony tried to hide how deeply that whole exchange had surprised and wounded him behind a grim frown. That too was fairly typical only this time there hadn't been a pond or a set of stairs for him to tumble into. There was only that terrifyingly deep vast unknown chasm, a long fall where he didn't know who he would be when he finally hit the bottom, but he was going to fall regardless. Had began the fall- apparently, before he had even realized...

"Tell me it's not true. If you don't feel the same way, then tell me and I'll let it go. I'll settle..."

He spat the word Alec had used because maybe that was what it had been all along. His trying to fill other people's expectations of him was settling for less than he really wanted. Anthony's darkly shaded eyes look back to Fell's. He closed the distance between them again and reached out to touch Aziraphale's lapel, to recall how soft and wonderful it felt beneath his fingertips.

"But if there is any part of you, like me, that wants to know what it feels like..."

Anthony leaned just a touch closer tempting Aziraphale's lips to settle against his instead of continuing to deny this was happening.

Doing what. "Don't be daft," he said quietly and with little bite.

Of course none of this was true, he could say. The emotions, the memories, none of it existed. But painful ache for Anthony was undeniable--a binary celestial orbit, pulling and pushing within some gravitational trap, inescapable except by the collision of a strong enough outside force.

He placed a hand on Anthony's chest and knew if he pushed the man away now, that would be the end of it. Anthony would go home to 'settle' with the arrangement he had made for himself. Aziraphale could go mend things with Crowley and remain friends, and life would go on. As it should be.

You go too fast for me. For perhaps the first time since the memories began, the lost baggage of their plot was a boon. Whatever had stayed him from acting on his emotions in that moment was not here. Aziraphale had little to lose. Anthony, on the other hand...

And for that alone, he should say no. He could be brave and spare them both.

But then Anthony would never have been cast as the instigator of Original Sin if he were so easy to resist.

He slid his hand under the lapel of the coat and over the soft dark green uniform shirt. Anthony's skin was warm through it, a slow burn against his palm. Aziraphale met dark eyes, traced the contour of a sharp, familiar nose with his gaze, down to lips he had imagined kissing the pout from in a dark vintage car from another lifetime.

Every part of him wanted to know what this might felt like, and he had never been very good at denying himself the real pleasures of life. Aziraphale tightened the fabric under his hand into a fist and pushed himself into that last breath of space between them, sealing his damnation with a kiss.

The hand on over his heart was a decision being made. Anthony could feel the tension in those bookish fingers and he caught himself holding his breath as if even that slight movement might have been enough to scare Aziraphale from his side and right out that door. He might have been left all alone with a picnic basket.

Then the fabric of his shirt was pulled tight sending his raw emotions soaring with hope long seconds before the kiss actually landed. Every sleepless night spent in agony tossing and turning over in his mind that smile, their conspiracy, the adorable way Fell fidgeted when upset... was well worth it. The kiss left no room for doubt or for error that this was exactly where he was meant to be.

"Aziraphale..."

Anthony smirked, a warm happy sort of half-smile that grew into a full one as he released the lapel he had been clutching and hazarded his luck to stroke a cheek.

"Do you have the strange feeling we've never actually done that before?"

His own name had never sounded so sweet to his ears, nor had Anthony's smile ever looked so magnificent. Cheeky, warm mirth bloomed across the other man's face and painted joyful lines around his eyes and mouth. Aziraphale drank in this smile, savored and indulged in the fact that it was his alone to see.

He leaned into the touch, dropping his gaze coyly. The kiss did feel momentous, but he wasn't sure if that was the culmination of nerves and confusion here now, or because of some weighty residual pining from the memories. Or if perhaps that elusive first kiss had already happened, in another time and place not yet remembered, and this was a long-awaited reunion.

"Oh? And here I thought you'd perhaps had a rather enlightening vision," he teased after giving it some consideration, taking pity on the green polo to brush out some of the wrinkles left under his grasp.

"Too many enlightening visions..."

He sulked again but only briefly as the memory of that so very recent kiss couldn't be held back. He could still feel the heat on his lips, imagine the weight of that gentle pressure. And he couldn't help but enjoy those friendly fingers smoothing out his polo. So very familiar! Anthony was being silly, some school lad with their first real crush, but he couldn't stop grinning.

"It was like this only I was pissed off. I had you held back against a wall so I could yell at you for calling me nice. Course... the nun came in before we kissed. If she hadn't, I wonder if we would have."

The thought had certainly been in the back of his mind some where beside how nice Aziraphale's after shave smelled and how warm being so close to him had been.

Aziraphale looked up in alarm, stepping back enough to properly look up into Anthony's face. One hand dropped to his waist, but Aziraphale was too preoccupied to properly enjoy it.

Whether they would have kissed after that scuffle or not was suddenly secondary to a very important detail.

"What were you doing in a church?" he demanded.

"Was it a Church?"

He asked as he wondered if Aziraphale might have had the same memory and as he tried not to be too distracted over those few fingers accidentally drifting over the belt line to touch a jean clad hip.

"Eeehh, I'm not sure it was. She wasn't wearing a habit. Do they have plain clothes Nuns anywhere? I just recognized her as having been a nun."

His head bounced as his own hand casually drifted down to rest on the one holding his waist.

"She recognized me too. Called me Master Crowley with a look of horror. Fits I suppose, if I'm meant to be a demon."

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