Chapter Text
Day -52 Weymouth
Aziraphale looked as delicious as always. His overlong curls were combed into chaos by the marina breeze. There was engine grease on his nose, and the cream read banned books t-shirt was pulled tight across his pecs. Thank someone, his bottom half was still below Ariel’s decks because if there were shorts and sliders down there, Crowley's semi might just get out of control.
Crowley tried to corral his mind snakes into some kind of order. There was more at stake here than fuel for his wank bank. He focused on weaving a tale of misjustice and horror. It was easy to paint Gabriel as the unrepentant villain of the piece without making himself too obviously the hero.
Aziraphale sat on the deck of the luxury yacht's cock pit, his legs still hanging into the companionway that led below. He leaned back on one hand with his smile blooming as Crowley mimicked Gabriel's snooty smugness. “Pack extra bilge buckets, sunshine.”
Bentley lounged on the cockpit bench, long, russet limbs tucked close to his body and his head on Crowley’s crossed legs. He yawned, displaying sharp teeth and doggy satisfaction, then let his skull thump back onto Crowley’s thigh.
Crowley finished the story with a flourish. "So?"
Aziraphale laughed. "Absolutely not." He vanished entirely below deck.
Crowley scrambled up and, ignoring Bentley's disgruntled huff, hurried down the steps after him.
"Oh, come on." Crowley ducked into the yacht's salon area of glossy, polished wood and plush upholstery. Beyond the sofas and the secure table, the taps in the galley gleamed.
Aziraphale moved thoughtfully through the space, occasionally stopping to double-check the catches on the storage lockers and arrange cushions. Crowley hoped his hands were cleaner than his nose. Of course they were, this was Aziraphale. He'd let nothing mar Ariel's simple beauty or the experience of sailing her.
"Gabriel and Bea have been planning the circumnavigation of Britain since January," Aziraphale said crisply. "They are leaving in two months, that's hardly adequate preparation time. I'm not taking the risk so you can win a silly bet with Gabriel.” Aziraphale's smile was firm and final.
Some silly bet! The pompous arse had called Nightingale a 'wreck in waiting'.
Crowley’s indignant splutter did nothing to stop Aziraphale now he'd found his wind.
"Not to mention that Gabriel may swan around on his fifty-foot dream boat like a weekend cruiser, but he's crossed the Pacific twice and -"
Crowley had only been sailing for two years, just, and mostly with Luke, for Luke. As much as Crowley had grown to love it, he'd only bought Nightingale before they'd finally broken up as an act of desperation. A safety net to call his own when the worst happened, and thank fuck he had. Thank fuck his social media was taking off so well too. Although that was probably more to do with Bentley's cutes than him being a sad bastard pursuing his dreams.
"You could beat Gabriel," Crowley wheedled. "You've practically gone all the way round this island anyway, just not all at once."
Aziraphale barely looked at him as he moved to the aft cabin. "Even if I could, July and August are peak times for us, Sea Change Sailing needs to make the most of the season and I'm already booked to skipper for a hen do-"
Crowley guffawed as he pursued Aziraphale into the aft cabin. "I bet you are. Captain in the buff, is it?"
"My answer is no, Crowley." Aziraphale crouched down to check the cleanliness of the storage under the berth. It drew attention to the fact that, yes, he was wearing shorts.
Crowley rested his shoulder on the doorframe and admired the view of cotton straining against thick, muscled thighs. Might as well while he could. There was no harm in looking. Only looking. There had been long conversations with Crowley's therapist, when he could afford one, about why more than looking wasn't advised.
“You're still here," Aziraphale murmured without turning around.
"What about the kids? That's why Gabe is doing it. We could double the money raised for Angel Wings. If I advertise it on my Insta-"
Aziraphale rested back on his heels and sighed. "Do you remember the last time we sailed on a boat together?"
Crowley’s heart lurched. "Nope."
Sorry, shouldn't have done that.
Oh, Crowley. You're with Luke and I-
Yeah, but Gabriel and Bea are together now.
I am aware.
And things with Luke... Oh God, is that a swell?
No, I believe that's your six margaritas on an empty stomach.
I think I'm gonna-
Shit.
Sorry.
Quite alright. These were only my second-favourite pair of boat shoes.
"Well, I do." Aziraphale stood up and smoothed down his shorts. "I have a family of four arriving in an hour who want to cruise the Dorset coast." He shooed Crowley out of his way. "And I would like to have both Ariel and I looking professional."
In Crowley’s opinion, Aziraphale looked absolutely perfect. Still, he'd seen him in his light blue uniform polo with its embroidered Sea Change logo sitting snugly against his chest, and worn with crisp white slacks. That look couldn't be complained about either.
"Fine." Crowley began to climb back up to the deck. "I'll ask Luke then."
He had no intention of asking Luke. He’d risk doing it by himself first. Not that single-handed sailing on a journey that epic would be a cake walk, but if Aziraphale stuck to his refusal, what choice was there?
Crowley ducked back out into the molten south coast sunshine. He’d managed to fit the steering cables to Nightingale’s helm. The self-tacking jib and the traveller for the main sail were working as expected. Crowley had made a whole series of videos about his modifications and built up a whole community of other hopeful newcomers to sailing. If he could do all that, he could sail around one little island. He could.
"Wait! You'll really ask Luke?”
Was that more than disapproval in Aziraphale’s voice? Did Crowley detect an edge of affront, a smidgen of, dare he believe it, jealousy?
Crowley breathed out his tension slowly, letting his anxiety settle before turning and peering back down the companionway.
"Yep." Crowley shrugged as casually as you please. "He's always up for an adventure, unlike some people." He returned his attention to the deck and whistled for Bentley. "The reason I got into sailing in the first place," he called back over his shoulder. "There's a certain symmetry to that, don't you think?"
Crowley was back on the jetty and a good few feet from Ariel when Aziraphale reappeared on deck.
"Crowley?"
"Yo?" Crowley spun on his heel and kept walking backwards.
"Is your mind really set on this?" Aziraphale had his arms folded, those gorgeous forearms displayed to best advantage. "It's not just another fantasy?"
"I've been fixing Nightingale since I bought her, already done some sail trials. She's more than up for the challenge."
The challenge of beating Gabriel and his fancy arsed Alpha Centauri around Britain, certainly.
"Alright," Aziraphale said as though Crowley had asked him to sacrifice his firstborn. "I'll rearrange things so Eric is free the first week of July to skipper for a hen do."
Crowley saluted and walked off with a spring in his step, and Bentley trotting ahead to sniff the breeze.
Fair play to Crowley, he'd known exactly what he wanted and understood exactly how to get it. Aziraphale was more annoyed with himself for falling for the spin.
Ask Luke, indeed. As if he would!
Luke and Crowley had only been separated for four months, and he-
Well, it wasn't Aziraphale's place to judge other people's relationships. However, if anyone did ask his opinion, he'd be quite clear that Luke Morningstar was a selfish, manipulative arsehole and Aziraphale was glad that after over a year of being taken in by that suave smile, Crowley had finally realised it.
Aziraphale stopped outside the Victorian building where the yacht club had its headquarters to take a deep breath. It was surprising how angry he was about the situation. Crowley had always seemed so very subdued though. He'd smile and joke, but toward the end, there had been a flatness to his expression a tension around his eyes. Aziraphale had only gone up on Alpha Centauri's deck that evening to check on him and honestly hadn't expected what had happened next.
Aziraphale pressed his fingers to his lips. It had been a good kiss, or maybe it had just been so long since he'd had one of any quality?
"Aziraphale, buddy!"
"Oh, Gabriel!" Aziraphale hated how his heart still jumped with excitement. "How are you?"
He looked very well, truth be told. Fitted white polo and linen shorts, those nice broad hands open in welcome. That movie star smile primed and ready for action.
Straight. Straight.
Aziraphale chanted it like a mantra against further heartache. Or, straight was how Gabriel had identified until he'd started dating Bea. Aziraphale hadn't discussed how Gabriel viewed his sexual orientation with him since that fateful night of the yacht club's summer dance last year. Now he’d go out of his way to discuss as little with Gabriel as possible, but Weymouth's yachting community wasn't infinite and sometimes things like this still happened.
"Was going to take the old girl for a spin," Gabriel said. "It's looking perfect out there."
It was indeed. The light wind would make for a casual, easy start for Aziraphale's clients and the tide would be with them. Not too hot or too cold. The sky was a beautiful duck egg blue and in the far distance, beyond the forest of masts, Aziraphale could see it merging effortlessly with the aquamarine of the flat sea.
"How is Alpha Centauri?" Aziraphale asked.
Gabriel beamed. “Finally recalibrated that self-steering device. It should make things a bit easier in July. You should come aboard and try it out."
"Another time, maybe." Aziraphale would rather chew glass.
"Oh, yeah, you're taking the Youngs out! I know Arthur from work. Told him you were the best." Gabriel delivered a friendly arm punch that left Aziraphale's fingers numb.
"Thank you for the recommendation." It was slightly irritating to be in Gabriel's debt, but it was hard not to get swept up in his tornado of generous goodwill. He was a man with power and certainty and damn, despite Aziraphale's best efforts, that was still very attractive.
"Did you see Crowley this morning, too?" Gabriel's hand was warm and reassuring on Aziraphale's shoulder as he steered him into the flint-clad clubhouse.
"Yes, funny thing, actually. Apparently, he's doing the circumnavigation of the UK for Angel Wings Children's Charity too."
And Aziraphale was going with him, of all the stupid ideas. The summer was packed. Both Perdita and Anthony needed some maintenance, and as competent as Eric and Newt were, Aziraphale always signed off on work. Just like his mum always had since she'd bought their first yacht. Sea Change Sailing was all he had left of her, and the idea of not being around made him slightly panicked.
Although admittedly, not as panicked as the idea of Crowley throwing himself back onto Luke Morningstar’s mercy.
"Ah, yes. We both got a bit wound up earlier, but really, Crowley can be so provoking." Gabriel shook his head in what could have been regret.
"He certainly can."
"Don't know what Luke saw in him."
Aziraphale pursed his lips. Luke had seen someone down on his luck who could be easily controlled. But, Gabriel had never viewed it that way. In his eyes, Luke was well dressed and competent, just as he was. Luke had a public school education and a trust fund. Luke was like him.
It also reminded Aziraphale how far out of his league Gabriel was, and that those blind spots of his did tarnish his attractiveness. If you were in the circle of Gabriel's approval, it was a bright and safe experience, but outside it could be cold and lonely.
Aziraphale still couldn't bring himself to like Bea, but he had to acknowledge that they were slowly knocking some of Gabriel's more pretentious stuffing out of him.
"I'm going with Crowley," Aziraphale said, heart skipping madly against his ribs. "Around the UK."
Gabriel's surprise was sudden and forceful. Aziraphale managed to hold his ground in the face of it. "He's really going to race me on that clapped-out little thirty-footer of his."
"Apparently so."
"And you're really indulging him?"
"He asked nicely."
He'd asked Aziraphale. He'd wanted Aziraphale. So few people did.
Gabriel's look turned worryingly thoughtful, it swept over Aziraphale as though seeing and understanding him for the first time. "Great. I'm glad he'll have someone with your experience on board. And you've always talked about doing something like this."
Aziraphale had hoped to do it with his mum one day, and then, after she’d passed, he thought maybe Gabriel would want to travel with him instead. They'd even started planning, and then Aziraphale had let his feelings slip out, ruining a softly lit future where- he record scratched the thought. In truth, Aziraphale had just wanted someone, anyone, to keep him company. As much as he liked his own space, the journey would be the experience of a lifetime and he wanted to share that. Share it with someone he loved.
"Yes," Aziraphale admitted, embarrassed by the intensity of the thwarted dreams he was sure must be burning across his face.
"Great news then." Gabriel snapped back into Good Ol' Gabe mode. His laugh was loud and sharp. "It'll make beating Crowley feel like more of a challenge."
Day -43 Weymouth
The boxes were nearly all shifted. Crowley was just heaving the last of them into the back of Anathema's car, when Aziraphale accosted him. He strode purposefully out of the clubhouse's back door, eyes fixed on Crowley as he crossed the tiny car park.
Damn it! Crowley had hoped to get everything ship shape by the time Aziraphale was back from cruising the Dorset Coast with the brochure-happy family of four. No such luck. Turned out there was more of Crowley's stuff crammed in Nightingale’s stowage space than he remembered. No wonder she was sitting lower in the water.
Crowley slammed the car boot and tried to lounge against it. He tried not to squirm as Aziraphale bore down on him with the focus of an incoming squall.
"You've been avoiding me," Aziraphale accused.
Crowley only managed to make a few noises of denial before Aziraphale jabbed his finger at him. "You have!"
Crowley had. Only until Nightingale's interiors were fit to be seen. He hummed his disagreement.
"Crowley," Aziraphale insisted. "We have less than two months to prepare, and I'm booked for quite a lot of that."
He then began listing jobs and decisions that started to make Crowley’s arteries clench. Meal plans, itineraries, weather apps, charts…
"And I have yet to set foot on the boat you want me to help sail," Aziraphale finished with despair. He looked so terribly put out, hurt even. Like Bentley, when he thought he had been conned out of treats.
Speak of the devil, the flirt of a dog had perked up and was meerkatting through the car window, his ears alert.
Crowley let him out because Bentley was always a good way to distract people. He didn't disappoint, hurrying towards Aziraphale with his tail wagging up a storm. Aziraphale was powerless to resist such optimistic goodwill. He crouched down to bestow ear scratches, which just made Bentley even more ecstatic. Crowley wondered if he could drive the car to Anathema's without the pair of them noticing.
If only!
"You're such a good boy," Aziraphale crooned into Bentley's face. The dog tried to get a lick in, and who could really blame him? He was gently rebuffed. "If only your daddy were as good as you." Aziraphale glanced up, eyes as expressive as the sea fixed Crowley with a mischievous challenge.
"Got errands to run," Crowley said, trying not to think about Aziraphale calling him a good boy. The last time, Crowley had nearly cut himself on a winch.
"And I have to take some businessmen on a team-building afternoon at sea.” Aziraphale stood up, despite Bentley’s objections. “I will, however, be back by five, and I expect to see you and your prep work in the yacht club bar by six."
Devoid of scritches, Bentley cocked his leg at a likely corner of the building.
"It's a date," Crowley said as though the sum of his prep work had not been hiding how pathetic his life had become.
"It is absolutely not a date," Aziraphale replied in a tone of voice that made Crowley’s already embarrassed cheeks burn hotter. "It is a crisis meeting and you are buying your own pint. In fact, you can buy mine too, seeing as I'm the one helping you out."
With that, he turned up his nose and flounced off. An actual flounce. Well, that was Crowley told. If only he hadn't enjoyed it quite so much. He whistled for Bentley. "Come on teacher's pet. Time to go."