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writerfangirlbooks · 4 years

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Demon in Love

Crowley x Reader

Prompt: Crowley meeting Dean and Sam's sister for the first time and falling in love at first sight and the two of you go on a date. Part 2!

Word Count: about 2250 words.

Credit to gif owner!

"Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner tomorrow night?" Crowley asked calmly.

Your brothers had never changed moods as quickly as they had at that moment, even when hunting. They went from happily losing video games to holding their remotes threateningly, with much more seriousness. Their bodies tensed and your brothers lost the playful gleam in their eyes.

Dean appeared to have frozen in time whereas Sam barely managed to stutter out a, "What?". You glanced at Crowley's reaction, surprised to see how calm he was, smug even.

Dean finally stepped forward, pissed. "Absolutely fricking not!" Dean ordered.

Your oldest brother's reaction had you thinking rapidly in different directions. There was some form of attraction, sure. Crowley was definitely handsome, but you legit did know nothing more than his name. The more important thing you noted was that your brothers didn't seem to care that Crowley was in the Bunker. His presence was nothing short of an everyday occurrence. That was, at least, until he asked out their little sister.

Sure, your brothers were family and you always protected each other. But sometimes the three of you entered serious pranking wars with one another and what could tick them off more than you going on a date with this mystery man? Not much, you imagined... Except for maybe a ball pit or hacking their playlists.

"What's the harm?" You asked and shrugged with a small smile on your lips. You turned to face Crowley to see him match your expression.

"Pick me up at seven," you requested. You began to move past him into the hall, much to your brother's bewildered objections. Crowley stopped you, placing a hand on your arm. His eyes seemed warm and amused as you looked at him. You worked to convince yourself that there was no way he could actually see into your soul and there was also no reason for your heart to be pounding so loudly in your head.

"Five, actually," Crowley corrected, before letting you go. With a wink and a snap of his fingers, he disappeared much to your surprise.

You stopped in the middle of the doorway, where you felt like skipping to your room, until the man before you just poofed himself away. You paused a few times before trying to start a few questioning sentences about how the heck that just happened, not even processing you had your first date in a long time coming in just a day. Taking a breath, you prepared the following sentence.

"Okay, bros. So, um. First, I would like you to know that you are not going to convince me not to do this. Next, I would like a small debriefing on who Crowley is and how he just Apparated himself out of here like Harry Potter. And go!" You jokingly directed, propping yourself against the doorframe.

Your brothers deadpanned. They looked at each other with dumbstruck faces before turning back to you. Dean began to look more pissed off with each passing second and while Sam didn't seem any more excited, he appeared more amused. The taller brother noticed the stormy look Dean was wearing and spoke up.

"Why don't you uh, go grab us some beers or something while we talk, then we'll tell you, alright?" Sam asked quickly.

Dean's eyes darkened before he dramatically turned away, threw himself onto one of their chairs, and began messing with the tv screen. You began to object that there was beer in Dean's secret stash in the lower cabinet in this very room, but a raised eyebrow made you change your mind and you headed down to the kitchen.

Once you returned, you saw the boys sitting quietly. Sam jumped up when he saw you and smiled, taking the bottles from you. You took the spinny chair that had been discarded to the side of the room and sat in it, feeling much closer to your brothers' height. Dean ran a hand through his hair and finally looked up, slightly calmer.

"Alrighty! Prep me. What should I know for my date?" You smiled cheerfully, hoping to lift their moods while still tormenting them.

"Please stop calling it that. You know how easy it would be for us to lock you in your room so you never see the light of day again, Y/N? You're damn lucky I'm even considering this utter bullcrap. I don't even want to begin to think about what could possibly happen to you," Dean complained.

You were surprised by his burst of concern for you, though it wasn't enough for you to cease pressing the matter. He took a large swig of his beer, seeming ready to empty the bottle. Sam had yet to open his, mostly just letting the cold drink switch from hand to hand as he contemplated the matter at hand.

"Y/N," Sam began hesitantly.

You interjected. "Come on, I'm not like you guys. It's not like I'm going to do more than kiss and tell on a first date. And you guys seemed comfortable with him in this place anyways. If he's a hunter, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Y/N," Sam warned.

Dean nearly jumped out of his seat. "What's the worst that could happen? Don't be a moron, youngin. Don't even get me started on kissing him, but more? I'd kill him. I'd kill you. Not happening. Not even a thought. Not what I was thinking, because it's not a thought! He could hurt you and I won't let that happen and neither will Sam. You don't think there's a reason you have never met him before, Y/N? Maybe because he would see this as an opportunity. Sure, he's befriended us for now and we help each other out, more or less. But don't think Sam and I have let our guards down for a second. This could be his chance to hurt us, to gain an upper hand."

His face and voice were so serious and intense, you were inclined to believe him. But regardless, was it not worth a shot? Sam sighed and pushed his long hair behind his ear, also somewhat stressed.

He said, "I understand Dean's concern and frankly, I support it too. This 'date' is a horrible idea. You don't know what you would be getting yourself into."

"That's because you haven't told me!" You shot back.

"Can't you just trust that we have your best interests at heart?" Sam pleaded. Dean groaned and after another bro-eye contact understanding, they sighed and looked at you earnestly. "Crowley... He's a demon. The king of Hell, specifically... And he recently went through this phase of experiencing human emotions, but please, don't let that influence your decision. No matter what, I'm sure whatever motives he possesses can't be good."

You felt like leaning back in the chair but would have fallen off. You settled for a dizzy effect instead, processing this strange information. Unfortunately for your brothers, this did not change your mind on going through with the date. After all, wouldn't it have been worse to not go through with it at all then be rude to a king and cancel?

You traded between anxious and excited leading up to the date. It was earlier than anything you were used to, so you began to prepare by afternoon. Dean made positive that you had all the weapons you could fit in your purse, barely leaving room for your wallet, phone, and lip balm. You felt proud of your outfit, even if it was a bit more risque than what you would normally wear on a night out. That was probably because you spent the most time with your brothers. Another thing that was reassuring was your ability to run in heels though you hoped you wouldn't need to, especially since your loose dress could end up Marilyn Monroe style in the wind.

There was a knock at your door. You nearly tripped on your way to answer it, your purse swinging behind you. To your disappointment, it was only your brothers. You sighed and allowed them in. They weren't in your bedroom often and it was probably the most personalized room in the whole place, filled with pictures, color, and clothes everywhere.

"Don't look so disappointed," Dean grumbled. They walked in, scanning for any sign of Crowley, as it was just minutes before five in the evening. Sam begin to list off the weapons they had given you to store earlier, confirming their location. You nodded along, your eyes focusing more on the hallway. "Any way we can talk you out of it now?"

You heard footsteps at the end of the hall and the new voice that belonged to Crowley call out. You bit back your smile for the sake of your brothers' sanity. "Nope. Sorry, boys. This is happening. Don't wait up for me!"

And with that, you left them there.

You met Crowley in the hallway, similar to the location from yesterday. Soon, the pair of you were strolling on the sidewalk outside, leading on the long walk to the streets, where you were informed a car would be waiting. The conversation started off light, with a compliment to your outfit and overall appearance.

You were not let down with the expectation of a confident king. He was ever so the gentlemen, opening doors, and being polite. It surprised you when he spoke with some hesitancy, showing the possibility of being nervous.

A half hour later, you and Crowley were sitting in some fancy restaurant. He sat across from you, facing the door. The waiter appeared anxious as he asked for your drink order. You didn't get the chance to speak. Crowley took charge, ordering some expensive wine you had never heard of. He gave an apologetic smile after the waiter left.

"I'm certain you will love the drink," he commented.

You were tired of the small talk. He was charming, handsome, and well, a king. But you needed more substance in the conversation to have a real date, and to find new ways to annoy your brothers.

"I suppose we'll see, though I typically prefer ordering for myself," you said. You glanced around nonchalantly, taking in the high ceiling and dark theme. You weren't avoiding eye contact by any means.

Crowley nodded. His dark eyes remained unwavering. You turned back to him as he spoke.

"I would be honored to make it up to you, doubled even if you dislike the wine, though I don't know if that's possible. Tell me what is on your mind," requested Crowley.

A smile teased its' way onto your face. "I think that can be arranged. Mostly, I want to know about you. After all, it's not often a stranger associated with my brothers asks me out."

"I take it they told you about me?" Crowley asked. His head leaned back slightly as his dark eyes continued to stare you down.

The wine appeared. The waiter poured you both glasses. Menu! You hadn't thought to look at the menu, so focused on creating conversation with the intriguing man before you. You requested an extra minute to ponder and took a sip. It was immaculate. The best you had ever tasted. You dreaded giving too much power to Crowley this soon, so you kept your expression neutral, with nothing but an eyebrow raise and a lick of your lips.

"To answer your first question, some. As much as my brothers and I deal with, I never expected to cross paths with angels and now, the King of Hell. You have the element of surprise on your side, I'll give you that. And for the wine... I suppose I will continue to test it by allowing you to order the main course as well."

Crowley smiled, impressed. He enjoyed his drink and picked up the menu, briefly scanning before glancing to you. It was impossible to know what he was thinking and that was all the more entrancing. He was well dressed, confident, and relaxed. Maybe it was the charming demon in him, but you felt no threat.

Your motives were wish-washy on their own. You craved the simplicity of a real date and that was beautifully presented before you. You had the intention of making your brothers annoyed by going out with someone they weren't fond of, and you were certain this would work. But there was something else, something you couldn't quite place your finger on.

It was the look in Crowley's eyes. He wasn't gazing at you like you were a prize won or some silly girl, like others in the supernatural world often did. You didn't even get the feeling he was doing this to pester your brothers. Sure, asking you out in front of them had to be enjoyable, but it was just the two of you now. And he was smiling, calm, and even a bit easygoing, despite showing nervous ticks.

So what was it, you wondered.

Crowley drew your attention back to him after ordering your meal. "I'm glad you like the wine. I can't imagine why they would hide someone as beautiful and kind as you from me for so long. It was a surprise to me as well."

He paused. "After dinner, would you accompany me on a stroll? I believe the sun will be setting by then and I know a great view."

Maybe this date was a good idea.

#short story #supernatural #supernatural story #spnfandom #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #spn fic #spn imagine #crowley spn #spn #supernatural crowley #crowley x you #crowley imagine #crowley x reader #crowley #crowley x y/n

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

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The Whole Truth - 6

(This chapter is another long one, so use this AO3 link to read more comfortably, or catch up on any you missed! Aziraphale and Crowley find a solution to the curse problem...)

Friday

“Good morning, dear,” Aziraphale said, soft and gentle, when Crowley finally started to stir. He kissed the demon’s forehead, then his nose. “You’re so lovely when you sleep. So warm. So—”

“Knock it off,” Crowley mumbled with a sleep-heavy smile. “Ruin my reputation.”

“You’re a very heavy sleeper, you know,” Aziraphale continued, feeling perfectly content. Some time ago, he’d sat up against the headboard and Crowley had immediately shifted, curling up to lay in his lap. It made for a stunning contrast, the black clothes and red hair against the white duvet.

Aziraphale leaned down and pressed his lips against Crowley again, the temple, then the cheek, the jaw. “I’m going to kiss you today, my love,” he said calmly, though Crowley’s eyes opened in alarm. “I won’t be able to stop myself.”

“Do you…still want me to stop you?” The back of his fingers brushed Aziraphale’s cheek.

“No. I don’t want that at all. But I still think it’s the best idea. Also, I needed a distraction, so your hair is ruined. I’m not sorry, though, and I’m sure you told me bed hair is popular. This probably isn’t what it means, but you could start a new trend.”

Crowley pressed a finger to Aziraphale’s lips, but he was smiling, and his eyes were gentle. “I have things to tell you. But we should get up first.” Crowley sat up, causing his hair to shift. It flared out in every direction, in spikes and waves that defied gravity. Aziraphale’s fingers had been very busy for nearly an hour. Crowley patted at the hopeless mess. “I need to fix this. Then we talk.”

Crowley entered the kitchen just as Aziraphale was setting his omelet on the table. “Sorry, dearest, I know I didn’t ask to use your stove, but as I said…distractions.” He glanced up and, oh dear, Crowley had changed his hair into loose waves and curls again. Aziraphale’s fingers ached to reach for it, to see how much softer it was without all that product in it to keep it in place…

He quickly sat down and started eating.

“How are you feeling? You know, aside from…”

“Aside from the need to constantly assure you of the depth of my love? It is truly fathomless. Do you remember, back in Rome—”

“Yes, besides that.” Crowley still hovered back by the counter, looking nervous.

“I feel…anxious. Defenseless. I’m very much afraid every time I begin to speak, not knowing quite what I’ll say or do. And when I remember this isn’t some random chance, that it was a deliberate attack by a demon, even if directed at another angel, I feel…” he tapped his fork against the plate. “I feel violated.” A weak smile. “And yet, so very glad you’re here, my dear.”

“Angel, I don’t…” Crowley sank into a chair facing Aziraphale, clearing his throat nervously. “You’re not going to like what I say next.”

“Well, I’m already disappointed in this conversation.” He said breezily, watching with horror as his mind hopped to another subject. “I was hoping you would sit in my lap. Next time I’ll have to hide the other chairs.” Oh, not again. He resumed eating with frantic speed.

Long fingers moved across the table and grasped his free hand. “Aziraphale…there isn’t a demonic curse on that book.”

“I beg your pardon?” Aziraphale put his fork down, very nearly pulled his hand away. But then Crowley squeezed his fingers and he decided he would never let go for the rest of eternity. “Yesterday, I cornered someone outside a coffee shop and told them in exquisite detail about the time you and I met Christopher Marlowe. I told a customer on Tuesday that he couldn’t purchase a book because I didn’t like the way he smelled. And just now I have the overwhelming urge to tell you I once spent a century trying to teach myself to draw just so I could have an image of you, but I could never quite get the nose right; but now the lighting in this room is absolutely perfect and I want to try again with you in front of me and – Crowley, how can you say this isn’t a curse?”

The demon calmly waited for the words to subside, then inched his chair closer, closer, until their knees brushed under the table, until he could reach around the plate and take Aziraphale’s other hand as well.

“I said it’s not a demonic curse. And it’s…a human curse wouldn’t affect you. Which leaves…”

“Angels? No, we don’t – angels don’t make cursed objects.” He tried to pick up his fork, to indicate that the matter was closed, but his mouth refused to play along. “I suppose we could. I mean, what’s really the difference between a cursed item and a blessed one?” The horrifying thoughts rose in his mind, one after the next. “I’ve – I’ve certainly done my share of curses, covering for you. They aren’t structurally all that different. And I’ve seen angels create objects that heal, or deliver inspiration…ones that can be used to locate and identify wicked or deceitful beings…oh, Lord.”

His hands convulsed, and Crowley held them, tighter. “I know, Angel, I know…”

“It forces you to tell the truth. To confront secrets you hide from yourself.” His stomach twisted. “That’s not demonic at all. How did I…I’m so stupid. How could I miss something like that?”

“No, come here—” With a tug, he guided Aziraphale over to him, pulled the angel into his lap, wrapped arms around him. “You were looking at the book, not the magic. Like you said last night – it was the perfect trap. For you. A mystery you couldn’t quite solve. How were you supposed to resist? And the longer you touched it, the stronger the compulsion.”

“I’m…the target?” His mind whirled, even worse than before he’d slept. “But who…why…no, the raid…”

“There was never any raid, Angel. Everything’s been quiet on our end for months. It was all a lie.”

“A…another angel…did this to me? On purpose?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Don’t cry, Aziraphale, please.”

“I’m…” Aziraphale sniffed, and realized his cheeks were drenched with tears. When had that started? He wasn’t upset, or angry. He felt strangely calm inside.

No, not calm. Numb.

Crowley held him closer, rocked him, pushed Aziraphale’s head down to rest on his shoulder.

“Have to tell Gabriel. He’ll help me. Always so…so kind. Gives me…so many chances…when I fail, or…or…” He shut his eyes. “He’ll help me…”

“Angel. He gave you the book.”

“No, he…he can’t know. He’s an Archangel, they…they watch over us…care for us…”

Crowley’s lips against his forehead. “I’m sorry. The – the blessing…it’s too strong. One of the Archangels created it.”

“He said if – if I tried to remove the curse, I’d be incinerated. Never even checked for myself.” Stupid, stupid angel. “If it were true…I’d…I’d have felt it immediately, wouldn’t I? Like you did?”

“Yes, but – you’re not – you’re not experienced with these things. You didn’t know you were supposed to feel anything.”

“Gabriel called me an expert. Asked me for a favor. I was so proud. I want…wanted to prove myself…”

“I know. I know.”

Crowley held him, and Aziraphale cried, quietly, his heart breaking into pieces.

“So, what do we do?” Aziraphale and Crowley sat on the sofa, an hour later. Aziraphale tried very hard to watch Crowley’s eyes, but his own gaze kept drifting down, just a few inches.

It wasn’t that unusual. He often watched Crowley’s lips when he spoke; with his eyes usually hidden, the best way to catch what the demon was thinking was by those tiny quirks of the lip, the little smirks and frowns at the edges of his usual scowl.

And if Aziraphale wanted to press his lips to the corner of that mouth now…

“Well,” Crowley was saying, and Aziraphale pulled his gaze back up, trying to focus. “I can’t take the blessing off the book. Gabriel might have exaggerated, but it’s still more than either of us can handle.”

“What if we worked together? Combined our powers somehow?”

“Probably make it worse.” Crowley’s lips twitched just a bit, a hint of a smile. “These things are delicate, and combining angel and demon powers…”

“I suppose you’re right.” The tip of Crowley’s tongue appeared, just for a fraction of a second, wetting his lips, and Aziraphale’s own tongue moved in sympathy. Just a little quick kiss, right there at the side of the mouth, what would it hurt? He loved Crowley so much he was about to burst—

“Oh, come here,” Aziraphale snapped, pulling Crowley down to lay across his lap, gliding his fingers through that hair. It was even softer than he’d imagined, strands separating and flowing like water. “Sorry. I hope you don’t mind, but I can’t focus on anything right now, apart from making sure you know how very much I love you. And on how, ironically, that thought is going to get us both killed.”

“I don’t mind,” Crowley sighed, settling against his thighs. “Do your worst, that’s what it’s there for.”

Aziraphale sank both hands into those thick red tresses, running through them from root to tip. “Oh, God, I love you.” He closed his eyes, absorbed in the luxuriant feel. “So, if we can’t take the curse – blessing, I mean – off the book, can we take it off me?”

“That’s easier, generally,” Crowley agreed. “Not even that complicated, it’s like…untying a knot. But this one’s stronger than anything I’ve seen. It’d take years. Decades, maybe.”

“Well, we have six hours. Possibly a bit more, Gabriel always runs late when I’m expecting him.” He tilted his head back to look at the corner, where brilliant white wall met brilliant white ceiling, and ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair again. “Which I’m now realizing is probably not just an unfortunate coincidence, is it? It makes me feel like I’m some – some irritation, like I have to state my business as quickly as possible so he can go back to more important things, apologize for taking up his time, and of course that’s what he wants. Why did I never realize? Why am I so naïve?”

“You’re an angel. You trust the people you’re supposed to trust.” His fingers reached up to brush Aziraphale’s chin, and the angel immediately turned to kiss them, reveling in their slightly salty taste. “Sorry.” Crowley pulled away. “Any idea why he would do this now?”

“Well…I have been avoiding work rather thoroughly lately.” He smiled down at Crowley. “Ever since we reconnected, almost thirty years ago, I’ve been finding every excuse to spend time with you.”

“I thought as much.” Crowley’s fingers traced across his waistcoat, and even through all the layers, it made him shiver. “I mean oh, Crowley, I’m not going to be at the bookshop tonight, I have a reservation at my favorite sushi restaurant. So if you’re planning to bother me, don’t come here. Not exactly subtle.”

“It worked, though, and you showed up in that lovely dress, which I wasn’t expecting at all, black with the embroidered red flowers, your hair all up in a knot. You were beautiful, darling, don’t even try to deny it, I could hardly take my eyes off you all evening and…” Aziraphale bit off the rest of his words. “Yes, well. I have avoided at least…eight assignments that would have taken me outside of London for considerable lengths of time. I couldn’t bear to be apart from you. I suppose my excuses have been rather transparent of late – I told Gabriel I couldn’t go to America because the London sewers were…er…on fire.”

Crowley tipped his head back and laughed, sliding across Aziraphale’s thighs. “He might have started to catch on at that point. But it’s still just a few missed jobs.”

“It’s disobedience.” One finger scratched near Crowley’s ear, and the demon purred. “He doesn’t really need more than that, does he?”

“Nnnnh. Is there more?”

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s fingers brushed through his hair again. “Centuries of it. Long before the Arrangement. I’ve had doubts. I’ve avoided assignments. I…never questioned, but I’ve come close, skirted the line, pushed the boundaries.” Anxious hands twitched. “Has it finally become too much? Has he been trying to catch me out for centuries, and I’ve just been too stupid to notice?”

“Stop saying that, Angel. We both know how clever you are. If he’s trying this on you now, it must mean that in six thousand years, he’s never had anything to go on. That’s good.”

“Whatever he’s looking for, Gabriel’s going to uncover a great deal more tonight than he ever expected.” The panic began climbing its way up his throat again. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m going to betray you, Crowley. I can feel it. I’m going to tell him everything.”

“Look, even if you can’t lie, you can twist it around. Make it sound like all those restaurants and bars and wine tastings and movies and walks in the park were just by yourself?” His thumb caught one of the buttons and rolled across it. “I don’t know how much trouble you’ll be in, but…if they don’t know about me, it won’t be as bad.”

“Impossible.” Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand and raised it to his lips again, kissing each knuckle. “Two days ago, I could resist, perhaps, but not anymore. And what if it keeps getting worse? Imagine what I’ll be like in a week…I’ll happily confess to everything.” He thought Crowley’s fingers were trembling, but no – it was his own hand, holding them. “Do you…do you think I’ll Fall? No, that would just send me to you, and I’m starting to believe Gabriel isn’t even that kind. He’ll…he’ll destroy me. No, he’ll destroy you, in front of me, so I can—”

“Angel, shhh, it’s not going to come to that.”

“I won’t let him, Crowley. I told you, I’ll never let them hurt you, I meant it.”

“Shhh.” Crowley tugged his hand, pulling Aziraphale’s towards him, pressing it open to lay kisses on his palm. “There is…one other option. But you’re going to hate it.”

A choked laugh. “Crowley, I’ve hated every one of your ideas for the past six thousand years, and yet I’ve always gone along with them.”

“Because I’m usually right?”

“No, because I’m in love with an idiot.” He bent over with a smile, kissing Crowley’s forehead, then kept going, a line of kisses – the brow, that perfect nose, and…

Crowley put a hand on Aziraphale’s chest, stopping him, holding him back as their breath caressed each other’s lips. “You said you shouldn’t,” Crowley reminded him.

“I know. I shouldn’t. But I want to, my darling, dearest Crowley. I want to kiss you right now, and kiss you until you can’t breathe, and – and – and – I haven’t actually considered what comes next, but we have six hours until we die, we can figure it out. Let’s go back to bed, stay there to the end. Let me groom your wings, let me touch you, I need to tell you, to show you—”

A thumb gently brushed across his lips, though Crowley’s face had gone quite red. Aziraphale was sure his own matched. “Angel,” and his voice sounded a little strained now. “We aren’t going to die.”

“No, you won’t. I’ll find a way to keep you safe. If you return to Hell, you should be…no, the rumors will reach them soon enough. You must leave. What’s that star system you always talk about? Alpha Centauri? Start there, and—”

“A-zir-a-phale,” Crowley drew the name out. “I’m not going anywhere. You said you’d let me be there for you.” The angel nodded weakly. “Neither of us is going to die, because I know how to stop this. I have a plan. But you’ll have to trust me. And stop squeezing me like that.”

Aziraphale realized his arms were clutching at Crowley protectively. He let go, and the demon sat up, resettling on the sofa next to him. Crowley picked up the angel’s hand, pressing it between both of his. “Alright. The blessing has infected your mind. I can’t untangle it fast enough. But I can isolate it, I can pull it out. You’ll go back to the way you’ve always been.”

“Just…like that? It seems too easy.”

“Well, there are a few problems. I’ll need to put it somewhere…so I’ll take it on myself.”

“What? No!” Aziraphale jerked back, but Crowley still held his hand. “That’s – that’s absurd, Crowley, it’s far too dangerous and furthermore, it won’t work at all, as you’d just – just go around babbling to everyone, and your superiors will find out anyway. No, I forbid it.”

Crowley shook his head. “This blessing was designed for you, fed by the time you spent bent over that book, handling it, breathing it in. I barely touched the thing, it’ll be weaker for me. I won’t be able to lie to you, but that should be the only effect.” He smiled. “Won’t even notice the difference. I’ve never lied to you.”

Aziraphale felt his smile return. “Not ever? Even when you said – no, no it’s not important. I’ll concede, it might work, but we obviously can’t stay that way.” He leaned forward eagerly, squeezing Crowley’s hand. “I’ll find a way to undo it. You said years, decades, but I have hundreds of reference tomes in the shop. Surely I can find a way to—”

Crowley lifted Aziraphale’s hand and kissed it. “It’s, um, more an art than a science. You leave that to me. Especially because…because when I take the curse, I’m going to remove all the memories connected to it.”

“No.” This time Aziraphale pulled away, sliding back across the sofa, trying to escape Crowley’s words. “Take my memories? All this last week?” What was his heart doing? His breath? Lord, he was dying right now, every muscle in his body tense and straining. “All those things you said – everything we – you told me you love me. I won’t…you can’t take this from me, Crowley. I won’t allow it.”

“It’s the only way.” Crowley inched towards him, and Aziraphale felt his panic rising. He shrank back, hiding behind his hands, pushing the truth away. “You said – Angel, you said you’d die to keep me safe. But this way no one has to die, or get hurt, or…”

“Dying would be easier! Crowley, I can’t go back to – to not knowing!”

“Look, I can – I can say it again, Angel. Tell you properly this time, take you out for dinner—”

“No, no, I won’t want to hear it, I’ll just – I’ll reject you,” he realized with horror. “Oh, Crowley, I’m sorry, I swear, I’ll think I’m doing it to protect you. You must understand that I – I won’t mean it, but I will...”

“So, I can…I can explain. Tell you about the book and Gabriel and—”

“And I won’t believe you. Oh, Lord, Crowley, I’m going to trust him again. After everything he did…” Aziraphale hunched over himself, arms pressed to his chest, heart palpitating. “I can’t…can’t go back to that…” He could picture himself, following Gabriel around like a puppy, not even aware of how many times he’d been kicked. Had the Archangel ever liked him?

“There’s got to be something we can do. Write yourself a letter, make a video, tell me something only you would know…”

“And then what? Once I’m convinced, I’ll – can you return the memories? That’s what I’ll ask.”

“Yes. I'm not - they won't be destroyed, I'll just be holding them for a while.” Aziraphale felt himself begin to relax. Put that way, it sounded...not good, but at least not terrifying. “But until I’ve removed the blessing you’ll just…wind up like this again. Back where we started.”

“And how long will that take? You said decades…”

“Twenty years,” Crowley shrugged. “Maybe thirty. As I said, untying a knot – if you rush it, it gets worse.”

“That isn’t…so bad,” Aziraphale admitted, rubbing a hand across his face. “But that means…oh, Lord, we’re going to do this, aren’t we?” He moved back across the sofa, set his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “It means you can’t tell me. Not until the memories are ready, because I’ll just insist you return them immediately. And round and round we’ll go. So, you can’t tell me about the curse, or about Gabriel, or…or even…”

“That I love you,” Crowley half-swallowed the word, as if it hurt. He slid his arm around Aziraphale’s waist and pressed his lips to the angel’s temple. “And I’ll have to stand by while you try to please that – that – that—”

“That arrogant sod? That self-righteous pus stain? That condescending, pusillanimous, egotistical, cold-hearted—”

“I was going to say ‘bastard.’ Or maybe ‘wank-wings.’ Where did you even learn that sort of language?”

“I read, darling.” Aziraphale sighed, leaning into his embrace. “We’ve waited six thousand years. What’s twenty more?” He picked up Crowley’s hand and studied it. “Can you restore them as soon as they’re ready?”

“Technically, yes. But even with the blessing removed, you’ll probably be unable to lie for a day or two. Residue. I’ll have to wait until we’re somewhere we won’t be disturbed. And you can be very stubborn about going off the grid.”

“Then try not make it sound like some – some illicit activity and maybe I’ll come along.” He kissed Crowley’s cheek. “And do be sure there’s at least a double bed. Oh, don’t blush so. I don’t plan to let go of you for two days, it’ll need to be big enough for me to hold you while you sleep.” He remembered the way Crowley had looked, in the dawn light, nestled in his arms, and he would happily have lived in that moment for eternity.

They sat together for a few minutes, not talking, just feeling the love flow between them. It was the most honest Aziraphale had ever been.

“So,” he finally broke the silence. “How long will this take?”

“Extracting the blessing and memories – maybe an hour? And you’ll need to rest at least an hour more while your mind recovers.”

“That leaves us…four hours.” He rested his hand on Crowley’s knee. “Closer to three and a half. And I think I’d rather make the most of that time.”

Crowley swallowed, fingers twitching nervously. “Anything you want, Angel.”

“Anything?” He tilted his head up to meet those golden eyes and grinned wickedly. “Anything at all?”

Eliza looked at the earrings in the glass counter of the pawn shop. “I mean, they look nice,” she grumbled, “but I still think mom would rather have a watch for her birthday.”

“Would she?” her sister smirked. “Or are you just saying that because the earrings cost more, and you want to go see that band? You know, with that cute drummer from your Uni? What’s their name…?”

“Not everything is about romance, Rebecca,” she said, blushing. “They’re just – it’s a good band, ok? And, yeah, tickets are fifty quid, and the bakery doesn’t pay that well, so—”

The door of the pawn shop flew open and two men walked in – the pale figure Eliza recognized from the bakery, and a tall, lanky bloke with red hair.

“Attention everyone!” The bookseller called cheerfully. “I am Aziraphale, owner and proprietor of A.Z. Fell’s in Soho, which is a perfectly wonderful pseudonym, despite all complaints I have received. This exquisite creature is Anthony J. Crowley, my best friend, the love of my life, and the most darling being in the entire world. We are here to celebrate a love that is entwined into the whole of human history, and anyone who wishes to join us is invited to meet at the duck pond in St James’s Park in half an hour. Anyone who does not approve is invited to go sit on an egg!” He beamed proudly at the man beside him, whose face was almost as red as his hair.

“Yeah, I still don’t think you have that last part right, Angel.”

“Nonsense, what could be more unpleasant than sitting on an egg? You, good sir!” He pointed to the owner of the shop. “We are here to look at jewelry!”

Eliza sighed and turned back to the argument with her sister, but froze at the familiar gleam in Rebecca’s eyes. “No. No we are not going to the park! There’s probably nothing going on! Yesterday that man told me he controls the weather!”

“But they’re in love!” Rebecca squealed. “And whatever’s going on it’ll probably be a riot.” She gasped, grabbing Eliza’s arm. “We should bring cake!”

“No, we’re not – you can’t use my bakery discount for…whatever this is!”

“Oi. Humans.” They looked up to see the man with the dark suit and red hair. His eyes were brilliant gold with slit pupils, like a cat, focused on the case behind them. “You’re standing in front of the rings.” His tone was harsh, but his face was still flushed pink.

“Congratulations,” Rebecca giggled, even as Eliza pushed her out of the way. “There’s a really nice gold one in the back!”

“That’s it,” Eliza groaned. “We can – just – buy mom that dress we saw. Let’s go.”

“Aw, you’re no fun. Look, I’ll pay for your half of the gift, and buy you those concert tickets. Please can we go?”

Eliza rubbed her eye. “What kind of cake?”

Half an hour later, Aziraphale stood beside the duck pond, hand tapping excitedly against the fence. The weather was perfect, almost a dozen people had gathered, and most importantly…Crowley was there, pinning a red rosebud to Aziraphale’s lapel.

“You have to stop looking at me like that,” Crowley complained. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Well, anything else would be a lie.” Aziraphale reached up and straightened the white daisy in Crowley’s buttonhole.

“Are you sure you want to do this here? Where we…had our fight?” His eyes tightened just at the mention of it.

“Where better? If we hadn’t fought, I wouldn’t have tried to stop that spy ring, and you wouldn’t have had to save me – and I wouldn’t have realized I love you more than all the wine in France.” He gazed out over the water, and noticed the black swan was there again. "Besides. It was always one of my favorite spots. And when we...weren't speaking...I would come here to remember you."

“Nnh.” Crowley leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together for just a second. “Fine. But…” he turned his head, stealing a glance toward the spectators. “I didn’t think so many would come.”

“You can put your glasses back on, you know. I only mind a little, but your comfort is far more important to me than having this moment be completed by the sight of your gorgeous eyes.”

“No.” He straightened up, and the smile that hovered at the corner of his lips was more brilliant than the light of Heaven. “I told you, while you don’t have your defenses, I don’t have mine.” His eyes darted to their audience again. “Just…why? I thought you didn’t want anyone to see you like this.”

“Because, my dearest love, if I’m not going to remember this moment, at least all of them will.”

“Ngk. If you want. Just.” Another anxious look. “Don’t make me talk to anyone.”

“Just me, I promise.”

Aziraphale pulled out a silver chain from his pocket, and draped it around Crowley’s neck. None of the rings had looked right but this…somehow…was perfect.

“Anthony J. Crowley,” he began, loud enough for his voice to carry. “My darling. My love. I trust you with everything that I am, as I always have, as I always will, forever and ever. You have cared for me, when no one else did, kept me close when I pushed you away, came to my aid when I thought all was lost, with never a moment’s hesitation. You are my best friend, have been for centuries, and I want nothing more than to be by your side for centuries to come. For eternity, if we can have it.” He smiled and ran his fingers across Crowley's new chain. Yes. Perfect.

Crowley glared at his feet, biting his lip. “For Satan’s sake, Angel…” his eyes drifted up, filled with tears. “How am I supposed to follow that?”

Aziraphale took his hand. “However you wish, my Crowley. My love for you isn’t going to change because of a few words.”

“I hope not.” With one last glare towards the crowd – which was perhaps meant to be intimidating, but utterly ruined by the way he blushed – Crowley leaned forward and whispered in Aziraphale’s ear.

“Yes, dear. That…that will do nicely.”

Aziraphale held out his hand and Crowley produced a golden signet ring. He slid it onto Aziraphale’s pinky, where no one would suspect it meant a thing, least of all Aziraphale and twined their fingers together. Both their hands trembled.

“Well,” Aziraphale said, blinking his eyes clear. “I – thank you all for coming. I suppose that’s…”

“Kiss!” A young woman’s voice called from the crowd. “It’s not official until you kiss!”

“Rebecca, shut up,” another voice cut in.

Aziraphale took both of Crowley’s hands in his. “Well. You heard the excitable young lady.”

“I don’t think there’s anything official about any of this,” Crowley said dryly, but he leaned closer, hesitating. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

The first brush of Crowley’s lips stole his breath away.

The second destroyed him, tore him apart, left him hollow and raw.

The third breathed new life, filled him with a love and hope beyond anything he’d ever experienced.

After that, his tongue brushed Crowley’s bottom lip, and he rather lost track of things.

“Wow,” Rebecca said, eyebrows vanishing into her hair. “I did not know old men kissed like that.”

“Why are you so weird?” Eliza sighed. “Are you happy now? We saw their…semi-wedding. Can we go?”

“Eliza, you can’t leave the wedding before the cake.” She held the box up. “Oi! Anyone want cake?”

Aziraphale broke off the kiss, turning so suddenly Crowley lost his balance and would have fallen in the pond had the fence not stopped him. The demon gasped for breath, trying to think through the brilliant, golden sparks that filled his mind, trying to feel anything beyond that wonderful, eternal glow of—

“Darling, did you hear that? Someone brought cake!”

They sat together, one last time, on the shop sofa, watching the seconds tick away.

“It’s…it’s only twenty years, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, head resting on his shoulder, twisting the new ring on his pinky. It had little wings. Utterly perfect. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

“Nh,” his husband grunted, running a thumb along the silver chain. “Long as something doesn’t go wrong.”

“What would go wrong? The blessing? You’re sure you can unravel it? It might be different from a curse—”

“No,” Crowley interrupted, resting a hand on Aziraphale’s temple. “I can see it clearly now. Twenty…maybe twenty-one years. But what if Gabriel tries something else? You won’t even know to look out for it.”

“Yes, I’m afraid I’ll have to trust you to keep an eye on…well, me.” He carefully unpinned the rosebud from his jacket, spinning it between his fingers. “Don’t let me take any foolish risks, either. I…I’m going to think protecting us both is my job. I’m used to taking care of these things. Be patient with me, and know that I love you.”

Crowley kissed the top of his head. “How will I know when you’re thinking about me?”

“Oh, my dear. I always am.” He sat up to meet those golden eyes. “If I’m talking, I’m trying not to say I love you. If I’m silent, I’m trying to hold it in. If I smile, I’m remembering how much I love you. If I get annoyed, it’s because I can’t believe I love such an idiot. There is no moment that my heart isn’t full of you.” He looked at the clock. Two minutes to go.

Crowley’s fingers landed on his chin, turning him back.

“I – I – I suppose I’ll see you in twenty years?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Crowley smiled. “Movie night.”

“Oh, yes. Something with a wedding at the end, I think, regardless of what I say.” His eyes darted to the clock. “Crowley. Kiss me again.”

It was just as soft – as tender – as passionate – as glorious as the first.

Crowley’s fingers pressed to his temples.

“I love you,” Aziraphale whispered, one last time.

An hour later, Crowley stood up, arranging his husband – his best friend – his angel on the sofa.

One last kiss on the forehead. It would have to hold him over for a few decades, and he had a feeling the 2000s were going to be rough.

“Goodnight, Angel,” he said, softly, pulling his glasses out of his pocket, sliding them on his nose. His defense against the world back in place.

Crowley walked out of the bookshop, and began to pick at the edges of the blessing in his mind.

The Archangel Gabriel appeared in the dusty collection of records Aziraphale was so fond of. He arrived two hours later than scheduled, knowing it would make the Principality anxious and eager to please.

He had waited thousands of years for this moment.

Ever since Eden, really – since the Guardian of the Eastern Gate had questioned the decision to throw the humans out. It had been a small question – are you sure? – but these things always started small.

He’d been watching for signs of rebellion, signs of doubt. He had his suspicions. Some angels flaunted their disobedience, others carefully hid it, walking the line, pretending to believe while harboring wicked, deceitful thoughts. Well. They all slipped up eventually.

All except Aziraphale.

There he was now, wandering out from a dark corner, eyes stuck on another of those – those books. He glanced up, then jumped, startled. “Oh! Oh, Gabriel. Oh, my. What brings you here?”

“I’ve come for your update.” He folded his hands and waited.

It was the perfect trap. Aziraphale would have spent the last five days touching the blessing, breathing it in, rolling it through his mind and weaving it in his thoughts as he tried to decipher the infinitely-changing text. It should have a complete hold on him now, compelling him to express his deepest secrets. Finally, finally, Gabriel would have the confession he needed to prove Aziraphale was a corrupt, worthless angel.

The Principality blinked his over-bright, nervous eyes.

“Update? On…? I’m sorry, I’ve been terribly busy this week.”

“The book,” Gabriel prompted. Aziraphale shook his head. “The cursed book?”

“Oh, the book! Oh, oh, no, I forgot entirely!” Aziraphale spun, searching the room, hesitating for just a second on a vase full of flowers. “I’m sure I have it around here somewhere. I put it on my desk, thinking this should be quite interesting. Yes! There.” He crossed the floor and picked it up, holding it out to Gabriel with a bland, sheepish grin.

Gabriel waited again, but still no compulsion seemed to loosen Aziraphale’s tongue. “Well? What did you find out?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry, as I said, I’ve been quite busy. Only had a chance to glance at it two, maybe three times.” He tipped up the book to look sadly at the cover. “Fascinating stuff. Pity it has to be destroyed.”

“Yes,” Gabriel said, jaw tight, pulling the tome from his hands. “Pity.” It had taken seven years to create that book, and another three to perfect the blessing. How, how could it have failed? “What have you been up to this week?”

“Oh, this and that. Various concerns of London. Minor healing here, bit of good luck there. Nothing to concern you with, but sadly it kept me out of my shop for days on end.”

That was all. The same blathering, unconfirmable nothing as ever, hidden behind that simpering, smirking face. The lying, treacherous bastard was about to get away with it again. Whatever it was. Gabriel had to fight not to lose his temper, throw the book, smite the disrespectful Principality where he stood.

“Well.” He dropped the book onto a chair. “Sorry to hear that. Perhaps we can get an extension—”

“Oh, no,” Aziraphale frowned. “No, this all sounds quite dangerous. I’m afraid the best thing is to get rid of it as soon as possible. I’ve had a bit of time to think, and mystery aside, there’s not likely anything to be learned from it. After all, the demons associated with it were all killed, correct?”

“Yes,” Gabriel grunted. “I did – I told you I was counting on you for this, didn’t I?”

Aziraphale’s face crumpled into guilt. At least that still worked. “Yes…you did say something to that effect. I’m – I am sorry to disappoint, but—”

“Disappoint? I ordered you to get answers. You know what this means?”

“I – I – I—”

It was almost enough to make Gabriel smile. But that panic wouldn’t do him much good – this job hadn’t been sanctioned by anyone in Heaven, so the worst Gabriel could do was berate the Principality in private, and make a show of forgiving him. That might buy a few years of quiet obedience, but it didn’t solve the core problem, that defective knot that he knew lived in Aziraphale’s soul.

“I – I don’t believe you did.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, I’m sorry, Gabriel, but when you came here on Monday, you said you wanted to consult with me on a cursed book. I…that is, you said this was a favor, not an – an actual order as such. So, while I am sorry to disappoint you, truly I am…”

The Archangel clapped his hands, squeezing them, imagining the core of Aziraphale’s true form was being crushed between them. “No! You’re right. This – this was a favor and…well…” He floundered.

And that absolute bastard smiled at him. “Jolly good. Glad that’s sorted. But, please, Gabriel. Anything you need in future. I would very much like another chance to assist you.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll find something.” He picked up the book and prepared to depart, then hesitated. There was a suspicion that had lurked in his mind for nearly a thousand years. “By the way, was that demon…what’s his name…Crowley? Was he involved in any of this…this business of yours?”

That stupid, nervous smile flashed across Aziraphale’s face, but he was almost entirely calm when he replied: “No, I haven’t seen Crowley all week.”

“Well. See you soon.”

The next instant, Gabriel was back in Heaven, in his private office. He tossed the book aside. So much wasted effort.

Still. There was one big project on the horizon. Something Aziraphale couldn’t help but fail at.

He pressed a button on his desk phone. “Get me an update on the Armageddon plans.”

Gabriel left, and Aziraphale felt the knot of worry untie in his stomach. The whole situation with that cursed book had entirely slipped his mind while he…

While he…

What had he been up to this week?

He remembered bits and pieces. Wandering the streets, talking to people, the usual. He’d picked up this lovely golden ring somewhere, and had already grown quite fond of it. But the week had flown by in a rather extraordinary way, and he couldn’t quite account for it.

Well, be that as it may. He was quite glad to spend the rest of the evening in his favorite chair, perhaps reread Hamlet or one of Georgette Heyer’s novels. Yes, he was very much in the mood for a happy ending tonight, though he wasn’t sure why.

On his way to the shelves, he noticed the vase full of daisies again. He couldn’t recall where they came from, but they did brighten up the room wonderfully.

(Thank you! Notes for this chapter can be found on AO3, but especial thanks to @under-a-linden-tree for help writing Aziraphale’s wedding vows, because it was just a bit sappier than I usually go! The final two chapters are quick epilogues, which I will have up as soon as possible.)

@black-velvet-roses-tea @witchingwhovian

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years

Text

Re-writing Destiny (Rated T)

Summary:

Is love strong enough to take an angel back in time and let him change destiny? When Aziraphale finds himself standing in Heaven, watching Crowley fall, that's exactly what he believes he can do. But will Crowley feel the same way? (3032 words)

(AO3)

Aziraphale is more than a little confused when he finds himself back among the clouds, hovering effortlessly in the cornflower blue sky.

There’s an eeriness to being aloft in the Heavens.

The air is still here.

There is no breeze.

Nothing moves up here, nothing lives up here, and yet he can feel the weight of a multitude of souls lending their energy to the universe. It creates a sort of hum that’s ever-present, reminds you that no matter where you are, you are never truly alone.

Some might describe that as comforting. Aziraphale probably has, too.

But not anymore. Not now.

He feels anxious wrapped up in it, expectant.

Tense with anticipation.

When the Earth was new, Aziraphale spent much of his time here, and he was perfectly content. He didn’t know enough to care, hadn’t experienced the rich diversity of life to know that up here in the clouds, with celestial harmonies weaving through his ears, wasn’t even close to living. He was an angel. Overseeing the birth of the world from afar was his job.

But Earth has long since passed its infancy and is well on its way to a problematic adolescence.

So what was he doing here?

“Do I know this?” Aziraphale asks himself, searching the clouds around him. “I … I know where I am, but this can’t be ... No, it can’t possibly be …”

His heart, or what counts as a heart in the chest of an angel, lurches uncomfortably. He can’t be here. Definitely not. This happened 6000 years ago! As far as he’s concerned, it’s 2019. Just yesterday he had cheesecake and espresso at the diner down the street.

With Crowley.

But none of those things exist right now - not the cheesecake, not the espresso, not the diner.

But Crowley does. Crowley should.

Aziraphale looks at himself, examines his clothes – his simple robes as opposed to his usual favorite coat, his hands and wings white like they've never been to Earth, never been exposed to dirt or pollution. He rubs his fingers together. Nope, no trace of grime at all.

Earth pollution is a curious thing. It sticks to the flesh and never seems to disappear. No amount of washing of miracling can erase it completely away. It lasts regardless, staining the skin on a level completely unseen, but which adds a certain heaviness to the soul.

Angels unaccustomed to life on Earth often avoid it because it makes them sad.

Aziraphale should be coated in it, especially his wings, but he can’t find any evidence of it on him.

That clinches it.

He's gone back in time. He must have.

And Crowley should be here.

Not just during this period in time, but up here.

In Heaven.

Aziraphale wasn’t around when it happened. He wasn’t really anywhere. Or if he was, he has no recollection. But he’s here now, it seems, and he has to ask himself why?

But fate doesn’t give him time to ponder that question.

A crack of thunder drowns out the lilting music.

A blinding bolt lights up the sky.

The screaming of angels, their jeering – and in some cases, their laughing – floods his ears.

Aziraphale spins, tries to pinpoint where the commotion is coming from. It should be simple to find up here amidst all this blue, but once the flash of light dies down, he sees only white – a vast plane of it, stretching out on all sides like a blanket pulled tight across the Heavens. It covers everything except for a disturbance in the distance – a brief shift of color that pulls his attention to it. It takes shape as he watches it, becomes recognizable.

It’s human – or human formed - in a torn robe, singed at the hem, and fluttering behind him at odd, unnatural angles …

… a pair of broken wings.

But it’s the dark hair that turns fire-red that confirms his suspicions, and a cry of, “No!” lodges in his throat.

Aziraphale takes off in his direction, flying as fast as he can to catch the angel falling from the sky. Arms outstretched, he comes up beneath him, and Crowley lands heavily in his arms.

“I’ve got you,” Aziraphale mutters as he speeds off, trying to find a spot far enough away from this one to lay Crowley down. “Don’t worry. You’re safe now. I won’t let you go.”

Crowley fights to lift the head lolling back on his shoulders. He’s badly bruised - one eye starting to purple, the front of his robe torn down the front from his neck to his sternum, like he was grabbed and punched. He looks like he’s been in a bar fight, Aziraphale thinks. It’s an awkward analogy to make at this particular moment, but it breaks the tension enough to allow him a smile.

But there are burns, too – a spray of them emanating from a circular scorch mark on his abdomen, as if that flash of lightning Aziraphale saw earlier didn’t just hit him, it went through him.

And his wings.

Oh God, his wings!

They’re definitely snapped in more places than one, as if many hands had grabbed them and tried to tear them from his body.

For all the injuries Aziraphale can see, and the ones he can’t, his soul aches for him.

Crowley blinks, dazed and confused, an accurate visual of the way Aziraphale felt when he realized where he was.

“Aziraphale? What---?” Crowley looks around him at the clouds and sky, and then at the angel who stopped his momentum. “Why are you … why are you here?”

“I don’t know, exactly,” Aziraphale says, lighting onto a nearby cloud and setting Crowley down there. He miracles the surface to ensure Crowley won’t fall through.

Crowley is fallen now. Aziraphale’s not certain the clouds will support him.

“But I’ve got you. Don’t worry. I’m not going to let you fall.”

“But I did fall,” Crowley slurs, coming to his senses. “You can’t stop that. You can’t … you can’t change it.”

“If I can’t, why am I here?”

“I don’t know,” Crowley admits. “But it’s a mistake. It has to be.”

“Why does it have to be? Maybe this is an opportunity!” Aziraphale decides, the idea coming to him on the fly, but making all the sense in the world. “And maybe it’s been given to us now because we’ve finally admitted that we love one another.”

Crowley gives his angel the benefit of thinking it over, even smiling for a beat, but too quickly, he shakes his head. “You don’t know that.”

“No, but you don’t know that it isn’t! I’m an angel of love! My entire existence is love – inspiring love, spreading love. And if there’s one thing I know, love can change things. Love has the power to change the entire world, doesn’t it?”

“I’d like to believe so,” Crowley says sadly. Because he doesn’t believe. Not as passionately as Aziraphale does.

“What if one act of love can re-write history?”

“That would be incredible,” Crowley agrees, thoughts he’d entertained previously, ones similar to those in Aziraphale’s mind, swirling through his brain. Aziraphale can see it in his eyes – beautiful, shattered eyes that change to the yellow slitted eyes of a serpent the longer they sit discussing this. Crowley stares at Aziraphale, wishing he could give him the hope he’s clinging so desperately to, but he can’t. He sighs. Breaking Aziraphale’s heart has never been easy. He wishes he didn’t have to. But what he wants is never going to happen. “But I … I don’t want it.”

“What? Why?” Aziraphale grabs Crowley’s shoulders and gives him a frustrated shake. “You have nothing to lose and everything to gain!”

“I could lose you, Aziraphale! We’ve spent an amazing 6000 years knowing one another! Do you remember me in Heaven at all? Remember one moment before I fell where you knew me?”

“I …” Aziraphale stammers. He would rather be confident in his answer, but he doesn’t have a confident answer to give. “I, uh … no, not exactly …”

“That’s right. You don’t. And neither do I. It doesn’t mean we didn’t, but it doesn’t mean we did. The chances of us never meeting if I start over again as an angel in heaven are too high. I … I can’t risk it. I don’t want to.”

“But there’s no reason you should remain a demon! You’ve done so much good on Earth! You’ve performed so many blessings! You’ve more than made up for what you’ve done!”

“For what I …?” Crowley’s lips twist in a heartbroken frown. It’s not Aziraphale’s fault. It’s a consequence of being an angel - a tendency to see things in only black and white. But Aziraphale is different. He sees the grey, too. From time to time, he comes across a shade so subtle, he does need it pointed out to him. Up here in the clouds, in such close proximity to Heavenly influences, he’s most likely overwhelmed by the moral binary. “Tell me I was wrong, Aziraphale.”

“What?”

“I was cast out of Heaven for asking questions. That’s all I did, angel. I wanted to know why. I questioned God’s plan. Tell me I was wrong. Tell me I deserved it, and I’ll go back. I will. I’ll get down on my hands and knees before God and I’ll beg for Her forgiveness. Just say the word.”

“You’re leaving this up to me?”

“There’s no one else in all of Heaven and Hell and everywhere in between that I trust more than you. You are the most clever person I have ever met. So if you tell me I did something wrong, I’ll go with you. I promise. Just tell me … was I wrong?”

Aziraphale swallows hard.

This isn’t a decision he feels qualified to make.

Before he was sent to Earth, he received many stern lectures from the Archangels over the nature of right and wrong, good and bad. Part of that lecturing included the subject of angels and demons. According to the Archangels, there are two sides and only two. Nothing in between. But those angels who preach segregation have never lived on Earth, not the way Aziraphale has. They’ve never watched firsthand the manner in which God’s creations grow and adapt to change. Many of them turn their noses up at him, call him native as if it’s a slur, but it’s not. What Aziraphale has become isn’t wholly bad … but it’s not wholly good either.

It’s evolved.

And that goes for Crowley, too. The only difference is he seemed to figure it out long before any of them, and because he did, he dared to question.

He wasn’t wrong. He was revolutionary.

Aziraphale smiles. There’s a bittersweet irony to that word.

It fits Crowley so well.

Aziraphale shakes his head. “No. You didn’t deserve it. Asking questions, being curious, even putting God’s plan to task … that’s no reason to lose God’s love. You were the son of dawn. You helped put the stars in the sky. You weren’t a demon, Crowley. She created one.”

Crowley nods, grateful that Aziraphale sees it that way. Crowley can endure the slings and arrows of angels and demons as long as his angel sees him for what he truly is. “Then I have to fall.”

“No!” Aziraphale gasps. “But, Crowley …!”

“No, angel. You can’t re-write this one. I have to fall, and this time … you can’t catch me.”

“But, Crowley …” Aziraphale wants to reason with him, wants to convince him to say.

Crowley snaps his fingers. Whether it’s one final angelic act or his first demonic one, Aziraphale doesn’t know, but the miracled cloud opens up beneath him and Crowley drops through the sky.

Aziraphale watches him go, plummeting through the air and into the blue.

“It’s what must be done,” he says to himself, fighting back tears, then repeats it over and over. “It’s what he wants. He knows what he’s doing. It must be done.”

But every tear that slips from his eyes convinces him different.

Crowley doesn’t deserve to go to Hell.

He doesn’t deserve to be used as an agent of Evil.

He’s being forced. He’s not being given a choice.

He’s being forced.

It’s that realization ringing through his ears that he follows, soaring straight down like a falling star in an effort to catch up, using a miracle to pick up speed until he’s falling so fast, he feels the feathers of his wings try to pull from his bones.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale calls out with his mind since his lips won’t move, his voice won’t carry. “I can’t do it! I can’t let you fall! I’m coming for you!”

“Aziraphale!” Crowley cries, his thoughts floating into Aziraphale’s mind. “What the Devil are you doing!?”

“I can’t let you do this! I know what you said, and you’re right, but you don’t deserve to fall!”

“Let me go, Aziraphale!”

“No!” Aziraphale folds his wings back against his body as close as he can. “I can’t … let … this … happen! You … don’t … deserve …!”

“Aziraphale! No!”

Aziraphale sees the Earth rushing toward them, coming faster and faster – faster than he can think. He can’t seem to miracle Crowley to a stop so he reacts on a mortal instinct and reaches out a hand to catch him before he hits the ground.

But seconds from impact, Aziraphale discovers that hitting the ground wasn’t what he needed to fear.

The air around them starts to heat as a portal to Hell opens up, fingers of flame reaching out to capture Crowley and devour him. They’ll probably take him, too, and at this point, he’d let them. He’d hold on to Crowley with both hands and fight the forces of Hell to get him back.

He’s confronted Hell before to save Crowley’s life. He’s prepared to do it again.

Aziraphale reaches harder, his arm nearly pulling from its socket as he strains to touch his demon. Their fingers brush, fingertips curling into one another, but not enough to grab hold.

“I can do this!” he says. “I can do this! I can do this! I have faith!”

Flame shoots higher and Hellfire surrounds them. It burns Aziraphale’s face, his eyes, his nose. It crawls beneath his skin, disintegrates him from the inside, but he keeps on. Closer and closer. He can almost make it. He’s almost there. He feels a hand close around his, one of heat and bone. And then …

Aziraphale flails before he opens his eyes.

He sits upright, breathing fast, the memory of blistering heat burning away his eyes and his nose overridden by sweet, fresh air flooding his sinuses and causing his eyes to water. He almost flies straight up, but the hand holding his tethers him to the here and now, makes him aware of his surroundings.

“Crowley!” he coughs, his throat dry, his mind frantic. “Crowley! Crowley!”

Aziraphale looks around him.

He’s sitting on a blanket of white, but he’s not up in the clouds.

He’s in Crowley’s room. He recognizes the dark walls and floor, the black-curtained windows not letting in an inch of light. The only thing white are the sheets on the bed which Crowley miracled special just for him. And the hand holding his, the one of heat and bone, is Crowley’s hand.

And he’s squeezing it to death.

“It was a dream! It was just a dream!” He laughs hollowly. “Oh merciful Heaven! It was just a dream!”

Crowley stirs. He rolls towards him and sits up. He lets Aziraphale keep the one hand and runs his free hand through his hair, blinking questioningly at the expression of relief on Aziraphale’s face.

“You al’right?” he asks, tired golden eyes shining in the dark.

“Yes. Yes, I am. I’m sorry if I woke you. I had a bad dream.”

“Looks like it. W’at was it about?”

“It was …” Aziraphale stops. He wants to tell Crowley. He wants to tell him everything, but even if it was just a dream, it’s one where his mind inserted himself into a sore subject. Aziraphale doesn’t feel right bringing it up. “I … I don’t know if I should tell you because it was … well, it was … it was about … you.”

“What about me?”

“I … I don’t think I should …”

“Aziraphale, it’s all right, love.” Crowley brings his angel’s hand to his lips and kisses it. “You can tell me anything.”

“All right,” Aziraphale says, straightening in bed. “If you say so. Just … please … don’t get mad.”

“I won’t.” Crowley clumsily crosses his heart with their joined hands. “I promise.”

“Well, uh … okay. You had … well, you had … fallen.” Aziraphale cringes at the word, and the way it makes Crowley’s eyes open wider. “And I managed to, somehow, catch you and I …”

Crowley interrupts his angel with a kiss.

He moves forward quickly, like a snake – Aziraphale likens it to. In the space of a single blink, he puts a hand to Aziraphale’s cheek and kisses him. It’s gentle but urgent, Crowley sliding further forward to wrap an arm around Aziraphale and hold him, both kiss and embrace translating a wealth of heartache and pain. Aziraphale puts his arms around his demon, holding on to him for support as Crowley lowers him back to his pillows on the bed.

Crowley doesn’t go farther than that, breaking the kiss with tears in his eyes as he rests his forehead against his angel’s.

“I couldn’t let you,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t risk it ...”

“I don’t … I don’t understand,” Aziraphale says, flustered by Crowley’s sudden display of affection and emotion. And his confession that, in the dark enclosure of his room, doesn’t make sense. “What was that about? What … what was it for?”

“For you being you,” Crowley says against Aziraphale’s mouth, whispering to avoid Aziraphale hearing the cracks in his voice. “The wonderful, albeit misguided, creature you are … who tried to snatch a demon back from Hell and carry him to Heaven.”

#Good Omens #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #frankie writes

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WHAT TO WATCH THIS WEEKEND September 13, 2019 - ONE CUT OF THE DEAD, FREAKS, HUSTLERS, THE GOLDFINCH and more

We’re well into September, and the Toronto Film Festival is slowly grinding to a halt as I continue to sulk for missing so many movies that I won’t be able to see until November or December. At least I’ll be at the New York Film Festival this month, and there’s a little bit of overlap there.

Besides the wide releases, there’s some really good limited releases this week, but I want to focus specifically on three movies that played at the What the Fest?! in New York City back in March:

The first of them is the Japanese zombie horror-comedy ONE CUT OF THE DEAD from director Shin'ichirô Ueda, which Shudder is releasing and streaming after it played a number of festivals including last year’s Fantastic Fest. What can I say about this really innovative film? I guess I can tell you that it’s about a zombie attack on the crew of a zombie movie, but that wouldn’t be the whole story. Honestly, it’s best to go in not knowing too much about it, other than it’s not your typical zombie movie. The complex intricacies of what Ueda does with his cast makes this one of my favorite recent zombie-related movies since the similarly great Korean film, Train to Busan. One Cut of the Dead will be released in New York (at the IFC Center) and in L.A. on Friday but then it will get special one-night screenings next Tuesday (Sept 17) in other citiesbefore premiering on the Shudder streaming channel sometime down the road. And if you’ve been wondering why everyone who sees this movie keeps yelling “Pom!,” well you’ll just have to see the movie for yourself.

Another great movie from “What The Fest!?” is Zach Lipovsky and Adam Stein’s FREAKS (Well Go USA), which will open a little wider than some of the other limited releases this weekend. It stars relative newcomer Lexy Kolker as Chloe, a young girl living in a world where those with powers are considered “freaks,” shunned and captured for experiments. Her father (Emile Hirsch) has been keeping her in hiding, but as Chloe gets older, she has questions about her mother, and also, there’s that weird ice cream man (Bruce Dern) who seems to know about her. Freaksis really a fantastic film from these filmmakers, Lipovsky having directed Leprechaun: Originsa few years back. I was truly impressed with Kolker’s performance opposite much more experienced actors, and Lipovsky/Stein find a way to build up the story to a satisfying climax.

I’ll have an interview with the directors over at The Beat later this week, as well.

I also want to call attention to DEPRAVED (IFC Midnight), the new film from director Larry Fessenden, which is his take on the Frankenstein mythos with David Call playing Henry, an army medic who decides to build a human being called Adam (played by Alex Breux), but finds his invention hard to control as Adam remembers his past. Another “What the Fest?” vet (actually, this year’s opening night film), Depraved also stars Joshua Leonard, Chloë Levine and Ana Kayne, and it’s so nice to have Larry back making movies. You can read more with Larry in my interview over at The Beat.

And then of course, there are this week’s wide releases, STXfilms’ HUSTLERS and Warner Bros’ THE GOLDFINCH, which I’m hoping I get to see one or both by the time this posts. If so, I’ll have review of both of these movies below. (Note: I did get to them, and they’re both interesting movies in that neither of them was anything like I expected.)

I’m really curious about HUSTLERS (STXFilms), because it’s the third film from director Lorene Scafaria, whose previous films, Seeking a Friend for the End of the World and The Meddler, I quite enjoyed, mainly because they featured actresses I like. I can take or leave Jennifer Lopez, but I genuinely love Constance Wu, and I really want to see what she can do in a more dramatic role. And then, of course, there’s the premise of New York strippers scamming a bunch of sleezy rich men out of their money, which is based on a New York Magazine article. That’s just one of those great pitches that makes me think many will be interested in checking it out this weekend, and it might do better than expected.

Mini-Review: I honestly think Hustlers is going to be an interesting litmus test for whether people who usually frown or turn their noses at the very real adult entertainment business that permeates big cities and small towns alike will be able to look past the setting to appreciate it for the skillful crime-drama that it is.

The film begins in 2007 with Constance Wu’s Dorothy on her first day at a big New York City strip club where she has to deal with slimy Wall Street types and equally sleazy bosses who take a big chunk of her earnings. Things change when she meets Jennifer Lopez’s Ramona, the absolute queen of the strip club scene, which you can tell as you first watch her performing. Ramona knows the ropes and takes a liking to “Destiny” (Dorothy’s stripper name) enough to befriend her and give her some tips.

After a bit more shenanigans explaining how things work in stripping, the story then cuts forward years later after Dorothy has had a child and is a single mother needing money. She returns to the club but business isn’t as good after 2008 as the Wall Street jerks aren’t as anxious to throw their money around. When Ramona reenters her life, the two of them come up with a scheme to drug their marks and then empty out their credit cards of money. It’s going well, and they’re getting away with it to the point where they need to expand.

Although Scafaria uses a fairly standard format to tell this story in the screenplay – basically having Constance Wu telling Julia Styles’ reporter the story as it plays out -- it’s the way she allows the story to unfold which allows the film to improve as it goes along. Sure, it’s a little predictable where and how things are going to go wrong, but the movie still works on quite a few levels beginning with the performances by Wu and J-Lo that a lot of people will be talking about later. When we first see Lopez dancing, she looks absolutely amazing, and it must be incredibly empowering for a former dancer now 50 years old to be able to get on stage with barely any clothes on and strut her stuff.

A lot of why the movie doesn’t come across as sleazy as it might otherwise (such as in the hands of a male director) is the way that Scafaria focuses so much on the friendship between Ramona and Dorothy and what happens as things start breaking down between them, especially when Dorothy starts growing a conscience. The rest of the mostly-female cast is great, although most of the men in the movie are depicted as such slimy and disgusting pigs, it’s hard to feel sorry for them either.

Hustlers is the type of movie that we wouldn’t blink if Scorsese or even producer Adam McKay had directed, but the fact that Scafaria can transition so smoothly from her light comedies to something so well-constructed is part of why the movie is so impressive.

I’m not sure if women who see this movie will rush out to take stripping classes in order to fuel their sense of empowerment, but Hustlers is a genuinely enjoyable film that tells a fascinating story and Scafaria should get full credit for making another movie this good.

Rating: 8/10

I don’t know nearly as much about THE GOLDFINCH (Warner Bros.) except that it’s based on a best-selling Pulitzer price-winning book by author Donna Tartt, and it has an insane cast that includes Ansel Elgort, Nicole Kidman and Jeffrey Wright. I know that reviews out of TIFF were not good, and I’m not sure it will find an audience even with the popularity of the book.

Mini-Review: I haven’t read The Goldfinch, and actually, I’m kind of glad I didn’t read it before seeing this John Crowley-directed movie, because it might have taken away from one of the main reasons I enjoyed it.

The basic premise is simple but the overall story and movie that tells the story is quite complex, maybe needlessly so, but if I didn’t know this movie was based on a beloved book, I could totally have guessed that was the case since so much of what happens in the movie is more literary than cinematic… though not necessarily in a bad way.

The story revolves around Theo Decker, played as a youngster by Oakes Fegley and about ten years older by Ansel Elgort. We meet Theo shortly after his mother was killed in an explosion at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, after which he’s turned over to the wealthy Barbour family, his friend Andy’s mother overjoyed to bring Theo into their family of five. Just when things are going well, Theo’s real father (Luke Wilson) shows up and drags the boy back to his home in a desolate area outside Vegas with his white trash girlfriend (played by an unrecognizable Sarah Paulson). There, Theo makes a new friend in Boris (Finn Wolfhard), and the two of them get into trouble, smoking cigarettes, drinking and doing drugs. And then stuff happens.

If you haven’t read the book, I’m not going to do a play-by-play on the plot, because SO MUCH happens in this movie, and that’s part of why it’s enjoyable because it’s such rich and dense storytelling ably pulled together by Brooklyn director John Crowley.

One of the things I will mention is the movie’s title “The Goldfinch” which is a priceless work of art that Theo takes from the Met after the explosion, and he holds onto it for years, for reasons we won’t learn until much later. Another piece of the puzzle is Jeffrey Wright’s Hobie, who restores antiques into convincing fakes. There’s also Pippa (Ashleigh Cummings), the granddaughter of Hobie’s business partner who also died in the explosion.

There is a way that these people connect together, and a reason why almost all of them have an important place in Theo’s journey, but there is absolutely nothing predictable about how many of these pieces will come together. To say that The Goldfinch is full of unexpected surprises would be an understatement.

I generally liked Oakes Fegley better as Theo than Ansel Elgort, but Finn Wolfhard quickly steals the movie as Theo’s eccentric friend, who returns later in the guises of Aneurin Barnard. Both pairs of actors make their portions of the film particularly interesting. In fact, I thought that Nicole Kidman probably brought the least to her role as Theo’s adoptive mother.

Filmed by Oscar-winning cinematographer Roger Deakins, the movie looks absolutely gorgeous, leaving little question why he is considered the master. Every actor and location looks amazing, and there’s a lot of variety in environments in which the story takes place. On top of that, the choices in music really helped me to enjoy this movie, even if it’s the choice of New Order to introduce Finn Wolfhard’s Boris, all dressed in black, to the rest of the score by Trevor Gureckis that helps bolster the film’s more dramatic moments.

Yes, the movie does feel long at times and maybe a little slow, but it’s also quite captivating because you never know where things are going, and everything is so unpredictable. You have to give props to screenwriter Peter Straughn for tackling such difficult material in such a fluid way. (I will mention that there’s at least one aspect of the film’s big plot twist that is almost impossible to believe, but I won’t ruin it.)

In my opinion, all of these seeming tangents that take Theo on this wild journey does pay-off with an ending that got me quite teary-eyed. Sure, it’s long at 2.5 hours but Theo’s story is a complicated one to tell, and it all adds up and pays off eventually.

Rating: 7/10

Amazon Studios has been advertising that Paul Downs Collaizo’s BRITTANY RUNS A MARATHON nationwide this Friday but that could mean anywhere between 500 and 1500 theaters or more. I hope it’s somewhere in the middle, as I’d like to see it make a play into the top 10 like The Peanut Butter Falcon did last weekend. It’s a terrific film and Jillian Bell is quite wonderful in it, oh, and if you haven’t read my interview with her, you can find that over at Next Best Picture. It’s a fun interview and a fun movie, so I hope people make an effort to check it out.

LIMITED RELEASES

One of the more interesting releases of the weekend is the Colombian film MONOS (Neon /Participant Media) from director Alejandro Landes that centers on a pack of wild gun-toting teenagers living on a mountaintop in the South American jungles where they run sort of wild but also are well-trained as a fighting unit. They actually have taken a hostage, a doctor played by Julianne Nicholson, who is just great in this role, continuing to show off how she’s one of the most underrated actresses working today. There’s definitely a “Lord of the Flies” feel to Landes’ film which has been submitted by Colombia as its Oscar submission for the newly-labelled “Best International Film Festival,” and I wouldn’t be surprised if it finds enough fans to get into the short-list, at least. Not sure about the nomination as this is already a tough year with high-profile submissions like the new Almodovar and Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite. Still, I think this will find its share of fans, and I can recommend it for its artistry more than as something you must rush out to see.

GKIDS’s latest animated release is ANOTHER DAY OF LIFE, based on the book by journalist Ricardo Kapuscinski that looks at the outbreak of civil war in Angola after being freed of its independence from Portugal in 1975. The autobiographical film follows Kapuściński’s search for the rebel leader Farrusco through wartorn Angola, so this is very much an animated documentary similar to Waltz with Bashir. It will open in New York at the IFC Center and in L.A. at the Laemmle Glendale this Friday.

And then there’s Michael Tyburski’s THE SOUND OF SILENCE (IFC Films), which stars Peter Sarsgaard, an actor I generally like, as a “house tuner.” Basically, he goes into people’s apartments and find out what notes or tones are causing them anxiety or preventing them from sleeping. One of his clients is a woman, played by Rashida Jones, and they sort of have a thing going, but Sarsgaard’s character is so strange and the movie is so slow, I didn’t really get more than an hour into this before I gave up. This was based on a short film called “Palimpsest,” and while “The Sound of Silence” is a much better title, this is a concept that probably works best as a short, since as a feature, it’s boring as fuck.

Another Friday the 13thhorror release is Scott Becks and Bryan Woods’ HAUNT (Momentum Pictures), which follows a group of friends who go into an “extreme haunted house” on Halloween in a night that turns deadly. Unlike the movies mentioned above, I feel that this really should have been held until next month, because it’s just going to get lost in the shuffle of all of the releases this weekend.

Since this column doesn’t post until Wednesday, I should probably mention that Rob Zombie’s new movie 3 from Hell will get a three-day wide release on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday in about 500 theaters, each day offering another bonus. It’s a direct sequel to The Hell’s Rejects, a movie I actively hated, and this one is more of the same, so I can’t recommend it at all. I hated this movie, and it’s use of violence for entertainment. UGH.

Let’s get to a few documentaries, a few of which I’ve seen...

Opening at the IFC Center is Michelle Esrick’s Cracked Up, a movie about “Saturday Night Live” vet Darrell Hammond and the history of childhood trauma he kept locked up for 40 years. I missed this at Doc-NYC last year but both Hammond and Esrick will be at the IFC Center Friday evening to answer questions.

Irene Taylor Brodsky’s Moonlight Sonata: Deafness in Three Movements (Abramorama) opens at New York’s Landmark 57 Friday and in L.A. at the Lammle Royal on Friday, Sept 20, and it’s an interesting film for the director of Beware the Slenderman, an excellent doc from a few years back. It looks at three people dealing with deafness, a young boy, an aging grandfather and no less than Ludwig van Beethoven, their stories weaved together to explore what it means to be deaf.

I had mixed feelings on Liam Gallagher: As It Was (Screen Media), which will be in theaters this Friday, available via Digital Download Sept. 17 and on VOD platforms Oct. 8. I saw and liked the Oasis doc Oasis: Supersonic a few years back, but Gavin Fitzgerald and Charlie Lightening’s doc focuses on the former Oasis frontman and his fall from grace after his very public feud with his brother Noel Gallagher put the spotlight on a singer who I personally feel is an egotistical prat… and he goes about proving that in every scene of this movie. The movie covers how the break-up of Oasis led to Liam immediately starting Beady Eye, which proved to be a failure before he decides to go solo. Maybe it isn’t a coincidence that this is being released a week before Gallagher’s new solo album “Why Me? Why Not.”

After playing last year’s Fantastic Fest and the recent Fantasia and BAMCInemaFest, Aaron Schimberg’s Chained for Life will be released at the IFC Center on Weds and at the Landmark Nuart in Los Angeles on Friday. The movie stars Jess Weixler as movie star Mabel, who has been slumming it in art-horror film being shot in a hospital opposite Rosenthal (Adam Pearson), a gentle young man with a severe facial deformity, as their relationship grows.

Elise Duran’s high-concept rom-com Can You Keep a Secret? (Vertical) is based on Sophie Kinsella’s novel and it stars the super-cute Alexandra Daddario as a New York woman who is having troubles in life and when turbulence hits her plane, she confesses all her secrets to her neighbor, who turns out to be the company’s CEO.

Next up is a bunch of odds and ends including some VOD specials. Opening in New York and L.A. is Larry Clarke’s comedy 3 Days with Dad (Unified Pictures), starring Tom Arnold who returns home to deal with his dying father. There’s also the Bollywood courtroom drama Section 375 (Reliance Entertainment), directed by Ajay Bahl. Jim Gaffigan’s second movie of the year, American Dreamer (Saban/Lionsgate), co-written and directed by Derrick Borte (The Joneses), has him playing a ride-share driver who kidnaps the child of a drugdealer. It opens at New York’s Cinema Village Friday and in L.A. and VOD next Friday. There’s also Garrett Batty’s Out of Liberty (Purdie Distribution), and I’m not even sure what to say about Seth Prices’ Redistribution, opening at the Metrograph, except that it’s a “reflexive work on art and interpretation.” Make of that what you will…. Or just check out the weird trailer.

youtube

LOCAL FESTIVALS

On Thursday begins the Tribeca TV Festival, which will showcase some of the newest and most anticipated television shows of the fall season including ABC’s Bless This Messwith Lake Bell, Dax Shepard and Pam Grier in attendance; the Apple+ series Dickinson, starring Hailee Steinfeld and Jane Krakowski; the CBS series Evil; and much more. Click on the link above to see what’s going to be screening, but it’s a pretty impressive line-up if you’re an avid TV watcher.

REPERTORY

METROGRAPH (NYC):

The Welcome To Metrograph: Redux series continues this weekend with Andrei Tarkovsky’s Andrei Rublev (1966) and Fellini’s Amarcord (1973), while Late Nites at Metrograph will screen Buñuel’s Belle du Jour (1967) and Playtime: Family Matinees will screen Charlie Chaplin’s 1931 film City Lights.

ALAMO DRAFTHOUSE BROOKLYN (NYC)

Monday night is Franc Roddam’s 1979 film Quadrophenia, based on The Who’s concept album, while this week’s “Tuesday Terror” is Dario Argento’s 1975 film Deep Red, which ironically, Italian rockers Goblin will be in town playing the score for LIVE at the PlayStation Theater on Friday in case you miss it at the Alamo. (Although tickets are obviously much more expensive for the concert.) Next week’s “Weird Wednesday” is the Rutger Hauer movie Split Secondfrom 1992.

EGYPTIAN THEATRE (LA):

Thursday will be a 40thAnniversary screening of Breaking Away with some of the cast in person, while Friday is a hockey double feature of Slap Shot (1977) and Sudden Death (1995). Saturday is a 70mm screening of Paul Thomas Anderson’s The Master, while Sunday is a double feature of The Godfather (1972) and The Godfather Part II (1974). Also Sunday, the George Lucas Family Foundation sponsors a screening of the 1919 silent film The Son-of-a-Gun (in 8mm!!!)with musical accompaniment, as well as some of Gilbert Anderson’s other shorts from the time.

AERO (LA):

Wednesday’s Greg Proops Film Club will screen Fritz Lang’s Ministry of Fear (1944) in 35mm, while Thursday begins a series of “Anime Double Features” of Ninja Scroll (1993) with Vampire Hunter D (1985). Friday is a Satoshi Kon anime double feature of Millennium Actress (2001) and Perfect Blue (1997). Saturday’s Anime double feature isRedline (2009)and Ghost in the Shell (1995), while Sunday is a Studio Ghibli double feature of Grave of the Fireflies (1988) and Only Yesterday (1991). Tuesday’s “Heptember Matinee” is a new 4k restoration of Katherine Hepburn’s Holiday from 1938.

BAM CINEMATEK (NYC):

BAM begins an awesome appropriate series called “Purpose and Passion: The Cinema of John Singleton,” showing a lot (if not all) of the late filmmaker’s work, including Boyz in the Hood, Poetic Justice, Higher Learningand even more recent movies like Four Brothers, Abductionand his 2000 Shaft, starring Samuel L. Jackson. This week’s “Beyond the Canon” offering on Saturday is a double feature of Valie Export’sInvisible Adversariesfrom 1977 and Invasion of the Body Snatchersfrom 1978. It’s also showing Craig Brewer’s Hustle and Flow, starring Terrence Howard, which Singleton produced.

FILM AT LINCOLN CENTER (NYC):

On Thursday, Film at Lincoln Center begins a short series called “Two Free Women: Lily Tomlin & Jane Wagner” which should be fairly self-explanatory, focusing the spotlight on the actor/comedian and her life partner, which will include a conversation with the two women on Saturday evening. The series will open with John Bailey’s The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe (1991) on Thursday night with a QnA with the two women. The rest of the series includes All of Me (1984), 9 to 5 (1980), Big Business (1988), Nashville (1975), the recent Grandma (2015) and many more films, including Nick Broomfield’s doc Lily Tomlin.

IFC CENTER (NYC)

Weekend Classics: Staff Picks Summer 2019 is Sean R’s pick Labyrinth (1986) while Waverly Midnights: Staff Picks Summer 2019 is the GREATEST STAFF PICK OF ALL TIME… Alex Cox’s 1984 classic Rep Man, picked by Jeff! Late Night Favorites: Summer 2019 is a 35mm print of Scorsese’s Mean Streets. (As far as I can tell, the 4k restoration of David Lynch’s Blue Velvet is ending on Thursday.)

FILM FORUM (NYC):

This weekend’s “Film Forum Jr.” is three Laurel and Hardy shorts and on Monday is a screening of Preston Sturges’ 1941 film The Lady Eve, starring Barbara Stanwyk, with a QnA and signing with Sturges’ son Tom. Joseph Losey’s Mr. Klein will continue running through Thursday, Sept. 19.

MUSEUM OF THE MOVING IMAGE (NYC):

Not really repertory but MOMI is playing the director’s cut of Ari Aster’s Midsommar this weekend as well as Makoto Shinkai’s amazing 2017 film Your Name, the latter on Saturday and Sunday at noon.

ROXY CINEMA (NYC)

On Weds., Thursday and Sunday, the Roxy is showing a 35mm print of David Byrne’s True Stories from 1986, which seems to have found new life over 30 years since its debut.

LANDMARK THEATRES NUART (LA):

This week’s midnight movie on Friday isJohn Cameron Mitchell’s Hedwig and the Angry Inch from 2000!

THE NEW BEVERLY (L.A.):

Sorry, Quentin, but as long as you use your excellent rep theater just to show Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood, the New Bev will remain at the bottom of this section. The Wednesday matinee is Possessed (1947), starring Joan Crawfors, while the weekend’s “KIddee Matinee” is a classic… 1965’s The Sound of Music! There’s a special Cartoon Club on Saturday morning and Pulp Fiction is the Saturday midnight and then Monday’s matinee is Fast Times at Ridgmont High (1985) in 35mm.

STREAMING AND CABLE

Probably more than anything, I’m excited for the return of Jon Favreau’s The Chef Show this Friday, but there’s also a new original film called TALL GIRL, directed by Nzingha Stewart and starring Ava Michelle as the tallest girl in school (hence the title), who deals with being so tall until she meets Luke Eisner’s Stig, a Swedish foreign exchange student who is even taller than her. It’s another cute teen-targeted rom-com from Netflix that I’m not sure I’ll ever see.

Next week is a mix of stuff including James Gray’s Ad Astra, starring Brad Pitt; Sylvester Stallone is back as Rambo: Last Blood and Downton Abbeyr eturns… but only in theaters.

#Movies OneCutofTHeDead Freaks Depraved WhatToWatchThiSWeekend hustlers #TheGoldfinch

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