An Ineffable History

Chapter Eight: Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.

The Globe Theatre, London, 1597 CE

Not one demon, not even Lucifer himself could have thought up a torture quite like this.

"Oh, you simply must come with me to see this new play. I've heard it's supposed to be marvelous." Aziraphale had said over dinner. Crowley hadn't quite wanted to go, but Aziraphale- bless him- had stared at Crowley with those beautiful blue eyes and Crowley couldn't be expected to say no to him then, now could he?

Which is how Crowley ended up seated next to the angel on the balcony of the theater watching what felt like a personal mockery.

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand

This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

Crowley bit his lip, pointedly not looking at Aziraphale. Not looking at how the angel was leaning on the edge of his seat. Juliet was talking now; he should probably be paying attention.

"For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,

And palm to palm is holy palmers kiss."

They were close together, closer than normal, although that wasn't saying much. Aziraphale's hand was right next to his, all it would take would be for Crowley to shift his little finger, not even an inch, and their hands would be touching. Crowley could make it look like an accident, like something that just happened. Or, if he wanted to, he could move just slightly, and cover the angel's hand with his own. Would Aziraphale pull away? Crowley thought, looking at the slight distance between their hands. Or would he let it happen?

"Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged."

The voice brought Crowley back to reality. His sin couldn't be purged. It would never go away, foolish to even think about it. Crowley forced himself to focus on the actors onstage and- oh. They were kissing now. Actually kissing, that was surprising. Normally actors wouldn't kiss like that; they would put their thumbs up so their lips wouldn't touch, or they would turn away from the audience and pretend. Apparently, this was not the case here, given as the actors were snogging on stage.

"Then have my lips the sin that they have took."

"Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged

Give me my sin again."

Oh, more kissing. Great. He glanced over at Aziraphale, admittedly curious to see what the angel was thinking. He was leaned forward as far as he could on the balcony, utterly captivated by the play. He looked happy and almost wistful as the couple on stage pulled apart. Crowley really should be paying more attention. Aziraphale will want to talk about it later, and what would he say then: "Sorry angel, I wasn't paying attention to the play because watching you was far more entertaining." Never going to happen.

Romeo was clutching his hand over his heart, doing a very good job of looking like he was pain.

"my life is my foe's debt!"

Bless it all. Of all of Shakespeare's plays, why on earth did Aziraphale ask him to see this one? It could have been one of the funny ones where they could both enjoy themselves. But no, it had to be a bloody tragic romance where they already knew that both of them were going to die.

Watch the sodding play.

With extreme effort, Crowley forced himself to watch the stage, all the while fully aware of every sharp inhale that Aziraphale took, every time he moved forward to see more.