shipping | psl

Crowley cocks his head to the side as if the question does not, in fact, make any sense to him.

Why Aziraphale? Why not Aziraphale? He's a vision, of soft pink skin, and stormy grey eyes, and hair like starlight. He's curious and gentle and knowledgeable. How can Crowley resist him?

Crowley studies his face for a time, so perplexed, so bewildered. Had no one tried to take this lovely human for their own? Did he really have no idea?

Gently, Crowley brushes hair from Aziraphale's cheek, and presses a kiss to the same spot.

"Let me court you, Aziraphale, and then you'll see what I see."

Why is Crowley so confused about all this? Can't he see that Aziraphale is quite an... outcast? Sure, he had decently good looks, but he was awkward and bookish, not exactly the powerful, princely sort.

"Court me?" he asks, chuckling in the way that he avoids Crowley's gaze and looks off shyly to the side. But Crowley kisses him on the cheek and he feels a warmth grow and bloom. "Well..."

He pulls Crowley's arms around his neck, and thinks they should get on with their swimming lesson. "Alright then, my dear new friend." He hadn't realized this would be so formal, but merfolk were intelligent beings and naturally, had their own sort of societal rules and rituals to follow.

"I think I'd like that." He backs up a little, and offers Crowley one of his hands.

Crowley takes his hand, and presses another kiss to his knuckles.

"It's dangerous right now though. Tomorrow - we'll do more tomorrow. I'll take you to shore, and you go home and plug your ears. When it's all clear, I'll tie a white cloth to the big rock - the one you can see from the window by your bed."

He gently squeezes Aziraphale's hand.

"Promise me you'll plug your ears."

"I will. Should I alert the town?" he asks, concerned. He doesn't want to leave this off for the night, but he feels safe that Crowley will come to him tomorrow, and they'll continue this lesson, this courtship. His heart does a funny flop in his chest, because no one has ever thought of him this way, and certainly, he hadn't expected the first to be someone who stepped out of one of his favorite adventure-fantasy novels.

Oh, he could pinch himself, he felt he was dreaming.

"Let me know tomorrow, and I'll come to you." He swims forward, and presses a kiss to Crowley's forehead. He did find it interesting, how similar merfolk were to humans, in such ways as this. He knows for certain that he'll dream of Crowley tonight, that he'll dream of Crowley in daytime reveries until he sees the color change on the rock.

"They won't get that close. They tend to stick to ships isolated on the open seas for hunting."

Didn't mean they wouldn't pick off a lone resident of a beachside cabin however.

As his blood in Aziraphale's system wears off, Crowley guides him safely back to shore, letting his hand linger on his a little longer. How lucky he is to have met such a lovely and clever sage.

---

When Aziraphale is safely inside, Crowley dives into the ocean to go track down the trespassers, and make sure they aren't planning to stick around.

It isn't until nearly the evening of the next day that he gives Aziraphale the signal all is well.

Aziraphale watches Crowley disappear off into the ocean, and prepares himself dinner, and touches his mouth where he'd stolen a kiss, closes his eyes and licks the inside of his cheek as if he could still taste the remnants of blood. When he does, the memory of swimming is still imprinted in his brain, fresh, a sweet reminiscent vertigo.

By the time he wakes up in the morning, he wonders if it was all a very realistic dream. After all, he'd met a merman with haunting amber eyes, soft to the touch, a vision, a titillating fantasy surely created by his depraved and lonely mind.

He keeps looking up, anyway, to look at the rocks, all day long. He loses hope by late afternoon, and wakes up from a nap that he'd taken solely for the chance to see him again, a flick of an eel's tail only an arms' length away.

When he sits up in his bed, he considers supper, and then he looks up in the sunset to see that there's a cloth there, as promised. Without bothering to put his shoes on, he rushes out of his door, locking it behind him, and steps into the water, dumbly, because he still can't swim.

It's not far to the rock, thankfully, though he struggles greatly when he reaches a spot he can't get to with his tiptoes and his head above water.

Aziraphale is spared nearly drowning when a pair of strong arms catch him around the middle and hold him upright and steady above the water, gently steering him back to the safety of the shallows.

When Aziraphale isn't in danger of being buffeted about by the waves, Crowley pokes his head out the water, chin resting comfortably on the swell of Aziraphale's stomach.

The merman looks quite a bit worse for wear. He's covered in scratches, many of the deeper ones having been wrapped in seaweed. There are bruises blossoming all over his torso, including one blackened eye, swollen shut. There is a hemp satchel slung across his chest, bulging with - well it's hard to tell what, but he's also sporting a pendant carved from whalebone that he hadn't worn before.

"Took a while but I got them to bugger off. And look - "

He rustles the satchel enthusiastically. "-Spoils. All sorts of good things in here you'll like. And maps too - I didn't forget about those."

"Crowley!" he exclaims, holding him close. "Whatever happened to you? Who did this to you? My dear boy, we must get you inside. I'll tend your wounds -- don't, don't talk to me of spoils and maps, your eye!"

He's gentle with Crowley, but his face looks pained, as if he's the one with all the wounds. "I've got calendula and aloe for your wounds, and--and laudanum for the pain. My good man, please. I... I've been so selfish, I've been waiting on your signal all day, but look at you!" He's nearly hysterical now, attempting to coax Crowley out of the water. He'll have to invest in a wheelbarrow, one he can use to take Crowley around with more ease. It would be nice to have that sort of thing in a chair.

Aziraphale finds his hands in Crowley's hair, stroking it gently, half out of trying to make him feel better, and half trying to calm himself down.

Crowley looks at him, quite bewildered. He'd just won a rather brutal territorial dispute - shouldn't Aziraphale be pleased?

But he isn't pleased - he looks distressed and frightened and suggesting putting things on Crowley's wounds as though Crowley hadn't already rubbed a poultice in. It worries him greatly and he desperately wants to set the human's mind at ease.

But almost everything is forgotten when Aziraphale starts stroking his hair - it's like an off switch for the merman, his whole body going lax save for the gentle sway of his tail, and some contented rumble that starts somewhere in his belly and rolls up through his throat.

He's practically to the shore when he remembers - the best part of his plunder! A surprise for this lovely human, so Crowley can properly court him!

"Just - just wait a tick, right here. And hold onto this, I'll only be a moment."

He thrusts the burlap bundle into Aziraphale's arms - it feels like it's quite full, and there's the light clang and rattle of a good deal of metal.

Without further explanation Crowley darts off, clutching the pendant around his neck, swimming behind the massive rock. He has no idea how this will look, and he doesn't want to alarm Aziraphale any further.

From where Aziraphale stands, there is a sudden bright green glow and the water bubbles as if boiling. It dies down quickly, and it's another few long minutes, but Crowley is indeed swimming back to him.

Until he reaches the shallows and stands on his new pair of legs.

They're not bad as legs go either; long and lanky, and covered in onyx black scales up to his hips where his tail had originally gone. They're still glossy, but seemed thicker, sturdier, more suited for traversing land, like a reptile's rather than an eel's. It looks like he's wearing a rather strange pair of stockings.

He takes a few steps and all seems well until something gets mixed up in his hips and he vaults face-first into the wet sand.

Aziraphale is very not pleased, because Crowley is scratched up and hurt, and Aziraphale never wanted that. He doesn't care for territorial wars; he had told Crowley he was a pacifist, and shouldn't Crowley have bodyguards to help him with that sort of thing, if he was a landowner? Seaowner? Territory-owner?

But nonetheless, he disappears into the surf and Aziraphale feels his whole face tighten as he both tries very hard not to cry and scream after Crowley at the same time. He's lost now, he knows it, Crowley has decided he's too much trouble, he'll swim away and find another human to occupy his time with. Or perhaps no human at all.

Yet, he's frozen to this spot, and when there's a glow returning, he holds his breath.

When Crowley emerges again, with legs instead of a tail, and stands upright, Aziraphale doesn't know what to think. What had happened to his merman-- no, no his merman, Crowley was not the sort of creature that belonged to another --but to this merman, who had stolen into Aziraphale's boat?

He doesn't get a lot of time to process this, and nearly drops all the items in his arms to run forward and catch Crowley. He doesn't make it in time, but now he is unable to contain himself. "Crowley!! What on Earth do you think you're doing? My dear boy, you must stop this nonsense at once!" he exclaims, placing the items down in the shallow water so he can pick Crowley up out of the sand. "Please. You'll open your wounds, I-- will you just come with me?"

Scratched and bruised though he is, Crowley seems otherwise alright as he manages to get upright.

"'Course I'll come with you," he says, beaming with pride. "And you won't even have to carry me on land. I mean, once I... just gotta... get the hang of these things."

When Aziraphale hoists him out of the sand, he wraps his arms around him, nuzzling into those damp curls.

"Can get legs now, any time you want me to come visit. And I scared those Sirens right off. Won't give you any trouble."

Aziraphale may have been a pacifist, and Crowley wasn't exactly big on conflict, but he would defend his territory tooth and nail.

"And there's all sorts of goods in there for you. Food and treasures. Promised I'd court you properly."

Aziraphale holds Crowley steady as they go, trying to nudge him along by keeping him close to those lovely soft curls of his as a reward of sorts. "My word, Crowley, don't be ridiculous. The proper way to court a human doesn't always involve goods, and foods. It involves... company, and... and staying safe, and... and spending time together."

He gets Crowley to the cabin and opens the door, carefully depositing the satchel on the table, and then focusing his attention on Crowley instead. "My dear, let me help you redress your wounds." He caresses Crowley's face, and looks up into his eyes, those glorious golden eyes of his.

Well, one. The other one is swollen quite terribly. He goes to fetch something from his icebox outside, a cold bag full of vegetables, and hands it to Crowley. "Here, for your eye."

Crowley takes the bag, looking rather bewildered. Did... did Aziraphale expect him to eat with his eye...?

He watches him for any further instruction, holding the chilly bag of what definitely looks like food, not sure if it would be rude to point out that this is not how you eat.

"Obviously those things are a given. S'why I nabbed this pendant from one of the Sirens - " and he taps it proudly. "-So I could spend more time with you, without - you know - drying out. And I scared them off, to keep you safe."

He grins, puffing up his chest once more.

"And I got you food, and goods. So you know I can provide."

Aziraphale looks at Crowley, honestly quite exhausted. "My darling, I know you can provide." Of course, he was an excellent swimmer and had good instincts. He would make a wonderful hunter. And perhaps Aziraphale could make a little money and build a house over the water, on stilts. And so he could sit out on his porch and see Crowley, and Crowley could swim right up to him.

He hadn't needed to do all this.

Aziraphale takes the bag of vegetables and presses it against Crowley's eye, when it becomes clear that he doesn't know what to do with it. Then he goes to fill up a bucket with the clear freshwater from the well, and a clean towel to help wash him with, and herbs and oils from his garden.

"If you stole the pendant from the sirens, won't they come looking for it?" he asks. "You must return it, I don't want you getting in trouble. We can find another way to be together," he resolves.

"Nah, won it fair and square. S'mine now - "

The bag is quite suddenly pushed into his face and he sputters in protest.

"- I can't eat these with my eye - ooh, they do cool it off a treat though."

He holds it there for a bit, feeling the hot ache slowly numb.

"Anyway, couldn't return it if I wanted to. After I chased them off, they've gone on to who knows where. Don't care to find out, really. Six on one isn't exactly fun."

"Six!" he exclaims, suddenly feeling very sick as he grinds some herbs to a paste and fusses with one of Crowley's kelps, gently unwrapping it so he can wash off the wound and apply the herbs.

"My goodness, and no one came to help you? Oh, my dear, you should be careful out there. What would've happened if you were seriously injured?" He looks at Crowley disappointedly, and returns to his work.

"And they're not for eating. Well, yes, they'e for eating, but right now, they're for cooling down your wound. It helps with the swelling. The paste should help with the healing, and as I've said, I've got laudanum for the pain. You've never had laudanum, have you? Course not, comes from poppies. It'll give you good dreams and ease the hurt. But careful not to have too much, or you'll need it all the time."

Crowley worries. Six on one doesn't impress Aziraphale, it makes him worry and fuss, and Crowley wants nothing more to hold him close and reassure him.

And so, once his scratches are poulticed and bandaged, he sets aside the cold vegetables and does exactly that. Long arms wrap around Aziraphale's shoulders and he nuzzles gently into his hair.

"Don't have any pain like this. Much better than lodenum."

Whatever poppies were. And if it was something he could become dependent on, he didn't want it.

Oh, Crowley. Aziraphale softens in his arms like butter does under a warm dish, and he holds his new-- his beau, he supposes, this lovely merman who is currently just a man, who got in a dumb fistfight to show him how much he cares.

Which, is silly, because it doesn't demonstrate a thing, besides Crowley is a brutish man just like all the other brutish men on land. He's just quite a bit more interesting.

"Alright then, let me redress your wounds and make you something to eat, and then I can hold you until the morning to ease your pain." He brushes his fingers through Crowley's hair to push it back and kisses his forehead.

It seems he was a lot more invested in this newfound thing than previously thought, trying to hold it in his hands and nurture it as a seedling in a thunderstorm.

As Aziraphale pushes his hair back, Crowley stares at him with adoration and warmth. He hadn't wanted him to worry, he should never have let that happen at all.

And so he makes an oath, so Aziraphale will never have to worry about dressing his wounds again.

"If they do come back, I won't chase them off again. They can have my hunting grounds, anything they like, and we can run off together inland where you can't hear them calling, and you can show me that place in your painting."

"No, no," he says. "We won't let them have your hunting grounds, dear. It's alright, we can... find something in the middle, so we can both be happy. But I really would like to show you that meadow someday. Soon, perhaps, now that you've got legs!" He smiles brightly at Crowley, having momentarily forgiven him his indiscretions of getting into a fight with six sirens.

He does, however, go back to dressing Crowley's wounds, so long as he can be in close proximity while he does so. Certainly, he wouldn't want to stop, and this does make it quite easy to wrap gauze around his stomach.

And it also allows Aziraphale to run surprisingly deft and dextrous hands over the flat planes of muscle there. If he should pause to ghost his fingers over Crowley's sides, it was clearly accidental.

If his eyes should linger, that's also accidental.

"Is this tender?" he asks, pressing his fingers down.

His stomach twitches under Aziraphale's touch, soft and sensitive as it is. He effectively bares his belly to the human. He bares a lot of things, considering he's quite naked, though his cock is safe in its sheath given his bottom half still isn't entirely human. Still, Crowley wants to make it clear that he trusts him utterly despite the very short time they've known each other.

"A little, yeah. Feels nice too. Your hands, I mean."

He mirrors the action, as if to say that Aziraphale can expect the same gentleness from him, that he is as safe with Crowley as Crowley feels with him.

Because his bottom half isn't quite human, it gives him the effect of wearing particularly tight pants, and so Aziraphale has no compunctions about sitting with him in his bed. It would be entirely different if he were naked and fully human, though surely not until he was done dressing his wounds.

Those were, after all, the most important thing.

"Mm, my dear, let me finish, and I'll give you a massage. Would you like that?" he asks, gently staying Crowley's hand on his stomach. He does feel safe, safe and cared for by Crowley, who would do ridiculous things to impress him. No one had ever done so before, and even though he doesn't appreciate the result, he does appreciate the effort, now that the danger has passed.

"--Is this all because I kissed you?" he asks, suddenly. Maybe that was a sign of commitment, in merculture.

A massage sounds incredible. He doesn't even know what the word means, but if it involves Aziraphale touching him more, he's on board and eager.

"Oh yes," Crowley agrees when Aziraphale asks about the kiss. "Among other things. Like your clever mind, and how lovely you are. You seemed very interesting, the way you weren't fishing for fish, so I'm glad I decided to get a better look. Because I was right. You're very interesting."

He beams up at Aziraphale, the swelling on his eye having gone down enough that he can now crack it open.

"And you're kind, answering all my questions."

"You do have a great many questions, but I like that. You're very curious, and so am I." He wants to learn all about Crowley, and he's happy to let Crowley learn all about him in return. Very shyly, he offers, "I like that about you."

He wonders what the kelp does, and how the medicine works under the ocean. He goes to get more land medicine, rubbing ointments all over Crowley's wounds, different ones for the cuts and the bruises.

"Crowley, are you feeling better?" he asks, looking at him with the wonder of a child, a newfound lover's fascinated eyes.

Crowley gets unsteadily to his feet, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale's waist.

"Felt better the moment I saw you."

And then he'd nearly had a heart attack when Aziraphale had waded into the deeps where he couldn't swim, but that was for another time.

"See? Mended me just fine. Nothing to worry about."

He placed a tender kiss to Aziraphale's brow, and another to his nose, and then each cheek.

"And then I'll spend all hours answering your questions and haranguing you with mine."

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