It Was Fire
Illustration: Before the Beginning, illustrated by Jesmalestiel
by crowleyscardigan and jesmalestiel (originally published on AO3)
Summary:
The many ways Aziraphale sensed fire in his relationship with Crowley, from Before the Beginning to their happy ending in the South Downs cottage.
Also featuring the digital art piece “Before the Beginning” by Jes!
Notes:
This is our final poem collaboration for the GOetry Pillow Fight event! We made it!
Many thanks to EybeFioro for their excellent beta work on the poem and to LexArturo for her keen eye in revising the art!
Additional note from Jes: this is the first time I’ve made art that I’m actually sharing widely so please be nice!
It Was Fire
It was fire I saw
in your gorgeous nebulas
when you turned the crank, starting the engine
of the universe. Your hair shined flaming red, your eyes alight with joy,
and I wished to be the reason they lit up.
It was fire I felt
from my sword, warm in my hand. After giving it to Adam,
my stomach was in knots, yet the look of joyous shock
in your eyes upon hearing my confession
ignited something within me
that the rain could not put out.
It was fire I tasted
on the smoked ox ribs you offered
as we sheltered from God’s storm. The flavors sparked
on my tongue in a euphoric collision.
You watched me eat, your eyes like embers of passion,
and I knew we both felt the heat.
It was fire that glowed
over us at Petronius’s restaurant.
I showed you how to eat oysters,
and as I watched you swallow, I flushed,
wondering what your mouth might feel like on me.
I should have burned from such torrid thoughts,
but somehow, I did not.
It was fire that loomed
over me each time we met,
each time I tempted in your stead.
What would they do if they caught us?
Had we been careful enough?
I should have stopped this madness,
but by then, my desire was too great
to be contained.
It was fire I watched,
flickering unholy on the pond,
the day you asked me for the weapon
that would put your fire out for eternity.
I love you, don’t leave me, I thought, but couldn’t say,
so we exchanged fiery volleys of words instead.
For eighty years, we didn’t speak,
but I felt your smoke linger around me.
It was fire I smelled
during the Blitz, standing in the church now reduced
to smithereens and scorch marks. But even in that destruction,
our ancient fire burned. We were almost destroyed
by gunpowder and Hell, but in the end, we lived to toast
to shades of grey. I watched candlelight dance
across the sharp lines of your face, and my lips burned with the desire
to meet yours.
It was fire that lit
the floor of the bookshop
from a witchfinder’s lighter and an errant candle.
My home (our home) up in flames,
and caught in the cold fire of Heaven,
I couldn’t save it, nor could you.
You threw out all my candles afterward.
We never talked about it.
It was fire I witnessed
encasing the Bentley, my borrowed heart aflutter
as I watched you saunter out. “Leave it to me,” you rasped,
your voice smoky, crackling. I followed you into battle,
taking up my sword again as we helped the child find his fire,
his drive to save the world.
It was fire we avoided,
our punishment for burning up the script of the Great Plan.
Hell was colder and damper than I’d imagined,
As the usher demon sizzled
in the holy water, my blood ran cold
as I realized that should have been you instead.
It was fire I feared
as I filled our home with extinguishers
while you slept through the plague
and I made more cake
than I knew what to do with.
It was fire that fueled
the celestial might of my halo
as it cascaded down to smite the
demons invading our home.
I had to think of something while I waited
for you to rescue me, as you always do.
It was fire that left
your golden eyes, when I said “nothing lasts forever.”
You grabbed me and kissed me, hard and bitter.
My throat filled with smoke, my eyes with tears.
I love you, but I have to leave, I thought, but couldn’t say,
so we threw word bombs instead, our favorite weapon.
It was fire that rushed
through my veins when you touched me
after we saved the world a second time.
“I love you. I’m sorry. Kiss me again?”
Burn me. Consume me. Make me yours at last.
Your hands and lips upon me
brought my age old simmering longing to a boil,
and as you took me, my defenses turned into ash.
Now,
it is fire that crackles
in the fireplace of our cottage. I recline into your arms
on our sofa. I read Frost aloud and you listen
until you grow bored and distract me with kisses,
stoking my desire again. “Fiend,”
I sigh, favoring fire, succumbing to your touch, to our love.
We are Us, safe and warm, forever.
crowleyscardigan: This series has been super fun! Thank you to Jes for all the great poem energy and isiaowin for organizing the event and prompts.
Also, I just had to include the sooty Crowley “leave it to me” because it’s so hot and needs to be in more fics.