Chapter Text
A nightingale sang on a balcony overlooking a sapphire sea, oblivious to the lanky figure observing her. Crowley was in a grim mood. He was not looking forward to the fête being thrown in his honor. Snidely, he thought to himself it was really for his father. His father, the King, desperately wanted his son to wed and was at his wits end with him. Was it really his fault he wasn't interested in the women his father paraded in front of him? They were either boorish, plain, stupid, or a combination of all three. He preferred them exquisitely mannered, pretty, and smart. That's what he told his father anyway.
Crowley sighed heavily. He knew his father would force him to pick someone at the fête or the King would do it himself. If he had to, he would drag his son to the altar in chains and force him to wed at sword point. This was not at all overdramatic. The King had said so himself, his face close enough that spittle from every word landed on his son's face. He wished he could be free. As free as the bird singing away on his balcony, able to flit anywhere he wanted. He wished-
A sudden knock at the door broke him out of his rumination. He glanced down at his partial state of undress, only wearing a shift and braies, and shrugged. Shoving himself up, Crowley accidentally scared the nightingale off. He watched it fly away with envy. If only he could flee the palace, he could do anything. Maybe make a garden? Plant some seeds, watch them grow and become the most beautiful garden anyone has ever seen. The Crown Prince started to daydream about his garden but was pulled out of it with more knocking. A voice called his name, one he recognized immediately. His lips quirked in a slight smirk and he slunk over to open the door, slipping his sunglasses on.
"Hello, my dear! Oh, goodness..." Aziraphale looked Crowley up and down, tutting. "My dear boy, you really must get dressed! After all, you are the man of the hour." The Crown Prince raised an eyebrow at his oldest friend's slightly blushing and smiling face but carefully avoided his eyes. He hadn't looked into his friend's eyes in years. The last time he had, it had made him feel like he had been thrown into the sun.
"I know I ought to, I just got distracted by the feeling my life will be dashed against the rocks, undeniably torn asunder and thrown into a crucible once I step foot into that ridiculous fête," Crowley drawled. A flash of anger crossed Aziraphale's face but was immediately replaced with his usual smile. He reached out and patted the Crown Prince's hand.
"I know my dear but if you continue to fret you'll end up going to it in your underthings. Now come, let me take a look at what you'll wear." Aziraphale slipped by Crowley to glance around for his outfit and, finding it, gently led the Crown Prince over to the bed. He tutted at its wrinkled state and smoothed it.
"Black? Really?," Aziraphale turned to Crowley with a raised eyebrow.
"I'm in mourning," the Crown Prince harrumphed and crossed his arms. Aziraphale mimicked his stance, amusement on his face.
"Then you're always in mourning, dear boy. But really, you need something to lighten the doom and gloom. Let's see what you have." Aziraphale drifted over to an armoire in the corner and rummaged through it. Crowley sighed and slowly got dressed, eyeing his oldest (only) friend. He didn't seem to be ready either, only wearing a simple tunic and hose. With his wet hair, it was as if he had just come out of the bath and went straight to bother the Crown Prince. The thought made him smile as he tugged on his doublet and buttoned it.
"Ah, just the thing!" Aziraphale turned around and made to step forward but stopped, eyes fluttering up and down the Crown Prince. He cleared his throat and continued on. "I think this pin would make you look absolutely dashing." Crowley glanced at the pin and smiled wryly. It was an abstract yet delicate rendering of the sun made of gold, picked out with rubies and sapphires.
"Trying to leave your mark on me, angel?" He did feel a little bad for teasing Aziraphale but only a little. The pin was a gift symbolizing their friendship but Crowley didn't wear it. It felt like it was about more than friendship. He glanced at his friend's face and sighed. "I'll wear it."
"Oh, really? I'm so glad, my dear!" Aziraphale's face had transformed from pouting to beaming as bright as the pin in a moment. His old friend retrieved the Crown Prince's red-lined cape, drew it around him, and gently pinned the sun on Crowley's shoulder.
His head screamed that Aziraphale was way too close and he had to get away now. But Crowley stubbornly held still, staring over the top of his friend's head. He balled his shaking hands into fists to keep himself from taking his angel into his arms and ground his teeth together. As soon as the pin was in place, the Crown Prince immediately whipped around.
“You should really leave, Aziraphale. Don’t want to be late.” Crowley pressed his mouth into a thin line, brows furrowed deeply and headed to the balcony. He was desperate to get space between them. He heard a soft noise behind him, almost like a strangled sob and grit his teeth. He knew what he had said hurt.
“Yes. Quite right, my dear. I-I’ll be off, then.” The tenseness in Aziraphale’s voice made Crowley wince and all he wanted to do was rush over. Make things right somehow. But he knew he couldn’t so he just listened as his beloved angel quietly left. He hated this.