For A Thousand Years Part 12
Crowley had been to several of Shakespeare's plays since the Globe Theatre opened two years before. They were very good places to get people to do things that would guarantee souls for Hell. There were lots of opportunities. He didn't go to the theater every day, but at least once a week.
He was able to lose himself in the plays, though he didn't like the gloomy ones very much. At least they were well written. Shakespeare had a gift, Crowley could give him that. He'd even talked to the man a few times. The crowd was a bit thin at this particular performance and Crowley was having a hard time paying attention.
"Good sir, I have noticed you seem a bit....well....bored." Shakespeare said as he approached Crowley.
"Just a bit." Crowley acknowledged. "But it is not the play. I have quite a lot on my mind at the moment. It's very difficult to concentrate."
"Ah, I see. There is some news that might help with your concentration." Shakespeare grinned. "I have a new actor. He is very good. Fills the feminine rolls quite beautifully."
"I look forward to seeing him." Crowley gave a slight bow and then Shakespeare was off. Crowley never understood having men play the female parts when women were just as smart, or possibly more so, than men. They could easily play the parts. His heart stopped beating in his chest when the man that was playing Ophelia came out onto the stage. The beautiful blonde, the bright blue eyes. The glow that was unmistakable. It was his angel. Crowley's eyes were glued to the stage after that. He couldn't take his eyes off of his beautiful angel. Crowley actually cried at Ophelia's death scene. He wouldn't admit that it was because he'd seen that so many times before already. When the play was over, Crowley applauded louder than anyone else in the theater.
"So you enjoyed the performance?" Shakespeare asked as he approached Crowley who had stayed behind after everyone else cleared out.
"Emmensely." Crowley said with a nod. "I would ask, sir, if I might meet that wonderful actor. He was rather lovely, and very talented."
"Of course, of course." Shakespeare nodded and escorted Crowley backstage. Giving money to the playwright tended to get you access that nobody else got.
"Master Crowley, I would like to present to you Astra Fletcher." Shakespeare said. "Mr Fletcher, this is one of our patrons. He wanted to speak with you."
"A pleasure to meet you, sir." Astra said as he gave a little bow.
"The pleasure is all mine, believe me." Crowley smiled at him. He really was beautiful. He'd even let his hair grow long to better suit the female parts. It was wonderful. Crowley turned to Shakespeare. "Perhaps I could have a moment alone with him?"
"Absolutely." Shakespeare nodded and then left the dressing room. Crowley just looked at Astra for a long moment.
"You are beautiful." Crowley said softly, taking in the full view of him.
"I have been told that quite a lot in my life." Astra said with a slight chuckle. People tended to call him beautiful more often than handsome. "Some have suggested that I was born with the wrong parts in place."
"Every part looks absolutely perfectly placed to me." Crowley nodded. He moved closer to Astra and reached up to lightly stroke his cheek. "In fact, I would say you look like an angel." He smiled. This time things happened a little differently. Rather than him looking like he shut down and then restarted, the recognition just immediately came into his eyes and he smiled.
"Crowley...." He reached up and took the hand on his cheek, kissing the palm gently. "How long has it been, my love?"
"Only about a hundred and fifty years this time." Crowley said with a slight smile.
"You make it sound as if it were the blink of an eye." Aziraphale shook his head.
"For me, that is." He shrugged. He hadn't been expecting to find his angel again so soon but now that he had, he was happy.
"I suppose you're correct." Aziraphale nodded, giving Crowley a quick kiss on the lips. "Will Mr Shakespeare be disappointed that he's lost one of his best actors?" He raised an eyebrow. Crowley shook his head.
"Absolutely not. I want you to stay and perform as much as you want. And....perhaps...bring one or two of your dresses home with you." Crowley gave him a wink and Aziraphale blushed.
"I might be able to do that." Aziraphale nodded.
"Now, let me go tell Shakespeare the good news, that I will most definitely be funding him for the foreseeable future." Crowley gave Aziraphale another quick kiss. "And then I will steal you away to my flat and we shall see where the night takes us."
"That sounds like a wonderful plan." Aziraphale nodded. He gave Crowley one more kiss before letting him go talk to Shakespeare. After they arrangements were made for Crowley to continue to give Shakespeare money, he took Aziraphale back to his flat and they spent the evening making love.
Crowley attended almost every single one of Aziraphale's performances. They would sometimes steal romantic moments in the wings or back in the dressing room. Everything was going wonderfully. They'd had more than a decade together when Crowley was called away on official Hell business.
He didn't return until the summer, coming back to London at the very end of June. He knew that Aziraphale wasn't at home and so he went to see if he could find him at the theater. His heart sank when he got there and the theater was absolutely destroyed.
"Master Crowley." Shakespeare said as he approached the man. "I had no way to contact you. There was no where to send the message...." He started. Crowley grabbed Shakespeare's tunic and actually lifted him off the ground.
"Where is he?" He growled as he looked up at the man.
"I am dreadfully sorry, Master Crowley. He was....caught in the fire." Shakespeare's voice cracked a little bit. He had truly cared for Astra. It took everything Crowley had to keep from throwing Shakespeare across the street and into the next building. He put him down and took a deep breath, closing his eyes.
"Are you telling me that he's dead?" Crowley kept his eyes closed, his fists clenched at his sides.
"It would have taken an absolute miracle for him to survive. I'm sorry." Shakespeare looked over at the rubble that was the theater. Crowley took a deep breath and let it out slowly. If he'd been there, Aziraphale would still be alive.
"Find his body." Crowley said before he stormed off to get very, very drunk. He was going to give his angel a proper funeral no matter what it took. He didn't care if all he was burying was a pile of ash.
He was able to lose himself in the plays, though he didn't like the gloomy ones very much. At least they were well written. Shakespeare had a gift, Crowley could give him that. He'd even talked to the man a few times. The crowd was a bit thin at this particular performance and Crowley was having a hard time paying attention.
"Good sir, I have noticed you seem a bit....well....bored." Shakespeare said as he approached Crowley.
"Just a bit." Crowley acknowledged. "But it is not the play. I have quite a lot on my mind at the moment. It's very difficult to concentrate."
"Ah, I see. There is some news that might help with your concentration." Shakespeare grinned. "I have a new actor. He is very good. Fills the feminine rolls quite beautifully."
"I look forward to seeing him." Crowley gave a slight bow and then Shakespeare was off. Crowley never understood having men play the female parts when women were just as smart, or possibly more so, than men. They could easily play the parts. His heart stopped beating in his chest when the man that was playing Ophelia came out onto the stage. The beautiful blonde, the bright blue eyes. The glow that was unmistakable. It was his angel. Crowley's eyes were glued to the stage after that. He couldn't take his eyes off of his beautiful angel. Crowley actually cried at Ophelia's death scene. He wouldn't admit that it was because he'd seen that so many times before already. When the play was over, Crowley applauded louder than anyone else in the theater.
"So you enjoyed the performance?" Shakespeare asked as he approached Crowley who had stayed behind after everyone else cleared out.
"Emmensely." Crowley said with a nod. "I would ask, sir, if I might meet that wonderful actor. He was rather lovely, and very talented."
"Of course, of course." Shakespeare nodded and escorted Crowley backstage. Giving money to the playwright tended to get you access that nobody else got.
"Master Crowley, I would like to present to you Astra Fletcher." Shakespeare said. "Mr Fletcher, this is one of our patrons. He wanted to speak with you."
"A pleasure to meet you, sir." Astra said as he gave a little bow.
"The pleasure is all mine, believe me." Crowley smiled at him. He really was beautiful. He'd even let his hair grow long to better suit the female parts. It was wonderful. Crowley turned to Shakespeare. "Perhaps I could have a moment alone with him?"
"Absolutely." Shakespeare nodded and then left the dressing room. Crowley just looked at Astra for a long moment.
"You are beautiful." Crowley said softly, taking in the full view of him.
"I have been told that quite a lot in my life." Astra said with a slight chuckle. People tended to call him beautiful more often than handsome. "Some have suggested that I was born with the wrong parts in place."
"Every part looks absolutely perfectly placed to me." Crowley nodded. He moved closer to Astra and reached up to lightly stroke his cheek. "In fact, I would say you look like an angel." He smiled. This time things happened a little differently. Rather than him looking like he shut down and then restarted, the recognition just immediately came into his eyes and he smiled.
"Crowley...." He reached up and took the hand on his cheek, kissing the palm gently. "How long has it been, my love?"
"Only about a hundred and fifty years this time." Crowley said with a slight smile.
"You make it sound as if it were the blink of an eye." Aziraphale shook his head.
"For me, that is." He shrugged. He hadn't been expecting to find his angel again so soon but now that he had, he was happy.
"I suppose you're correct." Aziraphale nodded, giving Crowley a quick kiss on the lips. "Will Mr Shakespeare be disappointed that he's lost one of his best actors?" He raised an eyebrow. Crowley shook his head.
"Absolutely not. I want you to stay and perform as much as you want. And....perhaps...bring one or two of your dresses home with you." Crowley gave him a wink and Aziraphale blushed.
"I might be able to do that." Aziraphale nodded.
"Now, let me go tell Shakespeare the good news, that I will most definitely be funding him for the foreseeable future." Crowley gave Aziraphale another quick kiss. "And then I will steal you away to my flat and we shall see where the night takes us."
"That sounds like a wonderful plan." Aziraphale nodded. He gave Crowley one more kiss before letting him go talk to Shakespeare. After they arrangements were made for Crowley to continue to give Shakespeare money, he took Aziraphale back to his flat and they spent the evening making love.
Crowley attended almost every single one of Aziraphale's performances. They would sometimes steal romantic moments in the wings or back in the dressing room. Everything was going wonderfully. They'd had more than a decade together when Crowley was called away on official Hell business.
He didn't return until the summer, coming back to London at the very end of June. He knew that Aziraphale wasn't at home and so he went to see if he could find him at the theater. His heart sank when he got there and the theater was absolutely destroyed.
"Master Crowley." Shakespeare said as he approached the man. "I had no way to contact you. There was no where to send the message...." He started. Crowley grabbed Shakespeare's tunic and actually lifted him off the ground.
"Where is he?" He growled as he looked up at the man.
"I am dreadfully sorry, Master Crowley. He was....caught in the fire." Shakespeare's voice cracked a little bit. He had truly cared for Astra. It took everything Crowley had to keep from throwing Shakespeare across the street and into the next building. He put him down and took a deep breath, closing his eyes.
"Are you telling me that he's dead?" Crowley kept his eyes closed, his fists clenched at his sides.
"It would have taken an absolute miracle for him to survive. I'm sorry." Shakespeare looked over at the rubble that was the theater. Crowley took a deep breath and let it out slowly. If he'd been there, Aziraphale would still be alive.
"Find his body." Crowley said before he stormed off to get very, very drunk. He was going to give his angel a proper funeral no matter what it took. He didn't care if all he was burying was a pile of ash.
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