Chapter Text
After a lovely start of his day involving a good book and a full English breakfast, Aziraphale was queuing to get on board, just like everyone else around him. He had decided, somewhat guiltily, to purchase a 1st class ticket to board the Titanic only a couple of months prior1 and he was excited at the prospect to be on a boat for an extended period of time again. He occasionally crossed the sea to get to France of course; it was the only way to get his hands on a decent brioche and practise his, admittedly, very rusty French, after all.
The line started moving and a gentleman with an impressive moustache stopped him.
“Excuse me sir, but it seems you’re forgetting your luggage.”
“Ah, thank you.” Aziraphale answered him, taking his leather suitcase. “Sir?”
“Morgan.” The man said, holding out his hand.
“Fell.” They shook hands.
“Short trip?” Inquired Mr Morgan, pointing at Aziraphale's lone suitcase.
“Yes, quite. Only a few days in New York.”
Mr Morgan nodded, “A business trip then. My wife and I are going on vacation for a few weeks. We hear the Big Apple, as they call it, is a very interesting city.”
“Considering its size, I’m not surprised…” commented Aziraphale, distractedly.
Their conversation trailed off as Mrs Morgan’s lady’s maid stumbled and apologised profusely to her employers.
Aziraphale thanked Someone for small mercies and quickly moved forward. Despite having lived a good 4000 years and having owned a shop for close to a century, he was not very good at small talk…
All in all, it didn’t take long for him to reach the front of the line. He handed his ticket to the young lad at the entrance who nodded and gave him a map of the ship. “Have a good trip, sir.”
“Thank you, my boy. May you have a good day.” Aziraphale answered, performing a low level Blessing.
He stepped forward and started going up the little bridge to embark. As he did, he looked through the map appreciatively.
However, as he kept looking through the pamphlet, Aziraphale realised that his cabin was not actually indicated anywhere. Frowning, he looked around for a steward.
“Excuse me, young man?” he said, gesturing to one of them near the door. When the boy approached, Aziraphale showed him his ticket, clearly displaying the number of his room. “I cannot seem to be able to find my cabin on this map. Could you perhaps indicate its location to me?”
The steward took a close look at the number and frowned. He asked to see the map and flipped through it quickly.
“My apologies, sir. I don’t know where that is either. My guess would be near the rear though. Perhaps you’ll have better luck asking another steward there.”
Aziraphale thanked him and made his way to the second big staircase, near the rear. Once he arrived there, he called another steward. Their interaction went much the same way, however this one advised Aziraphale to try closer to the front…
He walked across the ship several times, asking any staff he could see. None of them seemed to know where his cabin was. Finally, as he reached the frontmost big staircase, Aziraphale ran into a man holding a blueprint.
“My apologies, I’ve been walking all around this ship looking for my room and I didn’t see you,” Aziraphale said, looking sheepish.
“That’s quite alright, no harm done,” said the man, neatly rolling up his blueprint. “We are both at fault, as I was also not looking where I was walking.” He smiled, “Thomas Andrews. I’m the architect of this ship.”
“A.Z. Fell,” he said, somewhat awkwardly. “Wait, the architect?” Mr Andrews nodded. “Oh, this is a very impressive ship, you’ve done a marvellous job with it. I’ve been hearing so much about those compartments, and the swimming pool!” Aziraphale exclaimed excitedly, gesturing around.
“Thank you very much, Mr Fell. Although, I’m sure there are still many things I can improve on the design. That’s why I’m here, you see. To take notes.” He jiggled his blueprint. “But back to you, you were saying you were having trouble locating your cabin?”
“Ah yes, I’m supposed to occupy the cabin A-37.”
“I see. I occupy the A-36, over here.” Thomas said, pointing behind Aziraphale. “Yours is the opposite cabin, over there. They are a late addition and the maps were already printed. The rest of the information you have should be correct.”
“Oh thank you so much. I suppose we will see each other often then, given the position of our respective rooms.”
“Yes, have a nice afternoon Mr Fell. If you have any feedback on the ship, you know where to find me.” Thomas smiled and tipped his hat.
Aziraphale smiled back and ducked into his cabin.
“Oh look at you, you’re gorgeous,” he uttered to the room. It was the first time it had received a compliment and if it could blush, it would have. Instead, the lights grew a little bit brighter and the beds made themselves just a bit more plush.
Crowley looked down at his watch. It was 6:30pm and not only was the ship late, but he had also spotted no fewer than 12 police officers. Not that he would be in very big trouble if he got caught, but he’d had enough excitement for the century and was rather looking forward to laying low and taking a nap.
He had been in Cherbourg for a couple of weeks already, feeling absolutely awful after the Chantilly fiasco. He hadn’t even wanted to help Jules Bonnot in the first place but Hell had sent the message and so Crowley had gone, like the good little snake that he was.
At least, he’d only had to help them once… And he was able to stop the stray bullets from actually wounding any of the passersby. He wasn’t sure he would be able to look at himself in a mirror if he’d left directly after giving them the map of the bank and the car they used for the heist…
Around him, the crowd started moving and talking animatedly and Crowley looked up to see the Titanic had finally arrived.
“Took its bloody time.” He grumbled, readjusting his glasses and lowering his hat. There was no heat in his words though, as he took a minute to fully appreciate the sight of the ship. Titanic. A fitting name for such a behemoth. A shame Aziraphale wasn’t there, he would have loved to see it, he thought distractedly as he moved to embark on the Nomadic.
They had seen each other only a few years back and while the angel had agreed to disagree and never speak about the whole holy water thing, Crowley hadn’t wanted to stir things too much between them since and had only dared to invite Aziraphale to eat or see plays. Besides, spending a full week on a ship across the Atlantic with no way to escape each other or leave in a cool fashion if they got into another fight didn’t seem like a very good idea to him.
Halfway through the short trip to reach the ship, Crowley ducked into the bathroom and miracled his clothes to look like a steward of the White Star Line. An easy way in, inconspicuous and a good way to hear all about the juicy gossip once he’d be on board.
He mentally gave himself a pat on the shoulder for a well thought out plan.
An hour later, Crowley was hiding in one of the men’s bathrooms, having clearly underestimated just how much work the stewards actually had to do.
Just as he was about to miracle his clothes back, he heard the door open. Quick as a whip, he turned around, stood straighter and pressed himself against the wall in a feeble attempt to hide.
“Crowley?” A voice even more familiar to Crowley than his own called out, perplexed.
“Angel.” He answered, matter of factly. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Why are you dressed as a steward?” Aziraphale answered, in that tone of voice he normally used to let Crowley know that it wasn’t that he didn’t like his new outfit, but rather that he would have to make an effort to get used to it.
“Don’t have a ticket, just decided to board last minute,” he said quickly, “Are you on your way to dinner?”
“Yes, I was planning to try out the dining salon for tonight. I hear they have a fancy restaurant with Italian and French chefs on board but I felt I might appreciate it more if I knew what the regular meals were like, first. Now, tell me my dear, why didn’t you simply miracle yourself a ticket?”
“Ngk.”
Aziraphale softened and snapped his fingers, conjuring a ticket and giving it to him.
“It appears I booked two tickets, silly me.” He said with one of his infuriating tiny bastard smiles Crowley was so fond of. “My cabin has two beds, not that I plan to use any of them, but if you feel the need to take a nap…” He trailed off.
Crowley snapped his own fingers and changed into a simple but well cut dark suit. He pocketed the ticket and offered his arm to Aziraphale. “Let’s get dinner then?”
After a frankly impressive dinner2 where they had their own table in a corner of the massive dining salon, Aziraphale swept at his brow and frowned at the ventilator on the ceiling.
“You’d think humans would have figured out better ways to keep a room cool by now,” he complained, looking back at Crowley.
“Hummmyeah. I don’t mind it, though.”
Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him. “Not everyone is a snake, you know?”
Crowley sat back. “Well, ‘not everyone’ can enjoy the temperatures the rest of the time.” He got up to offer his elbow to Aziraphale again. The angel stared. “Come on, I heard they give concerts after dinner. Let’s see if they have any decent music.”
They didn’t have to walk far, the musicians had arranged themselves in the small room leading to the stairs and a great number of people were already settled down, drinking and smoking. As he looked around, Crowley spotted an elderly couple who vacated their seats to head to bed so he leisurely guided Aziraphale there and pushed his seat in for him. The angel rewarded him with one of his small smiles Crowley just couldn’t get enough of.
They called for a steward and ordered their last glasses for the night: whisky for Crowley and a White Lady for Aziraphale.
“This song is nice,” Azirpahale commented as soon as the steward left them alone, “it has a kind of innocent feeling to it.”
“Its name is not very fitting then, is it?”
“I don’t know, what is it called?”
“In the Shadows.”
They fell silent as the steward brought their drinks and stayed that way until the end of the song. Then the musicians started playing Alexander’s Ragtime Band and Aziraphale pulled a face.
“Oh, that one is modern.”
“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”
“It is! I was hoping we’d get to hear some Mozart…”
“Maybe they will play it another day.”
“Let’s hope so, this one sounds like it’s straight from a cinema.”
Crowley snorted. “So, what brings you on this ship, then? Did you feel peckish for doughnuts?”
Aziraphale gave him a look. “Doughnuts are not worth a week long trip, my dear.” He took a sip from his cocktail and hummed approvingly. “No, I wanted to see the boat. I missed the launch of the Olympic last year.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s a ship, not a boat.”
“Are they not the same thing?”
“Boats can sail anywhere but ships can only sail at sea.” Crowley answered, wondering if he wasn’t mixing them up, after all.
Aziraphale tilted his head, the way he often did when he got lost in thought. “Was Noah's ark a ship then?”
“Oh Noah’s was definitely a boat. It was much smaller and it didn’t even have sails. I’d even argue it was a ferry.”
“Aren’t ferries for people transportation?”
“People take the ferry with their pets; Noah just had a lot of them. Shame about the unicorns though.”
“Yes, they were very pretty,” Aziraphale agreed, “I always wondered what they were made of.”
“The horns? Nail or teeth, probably. There was a time when She put nails in a lot of weird places… Cat’s tongues, really?”
“Best not to question Her, my dear. Her ways are…”
“Don’t say it.” Crowley groaned, tipping back the rest of his drink..
Aziraphale gave him a smirk and finished his cocktail just as the musicians started to bow out.
“I think I’ll go take a walk, enjoy the fresh air for a bit. You can go ahead though, angel.”
“Alright, have a good night, dear.”
“‘Night, angel.”
1. What Aziraphale didn’t realise was that it was impossible to book a first class cabin on such short notice. There had been no sudden vacancies but instead, there may or may not have been two extra first class cabins installed at the last minute, on each side of one of the big staircases, to accommodate him. return to text
2. During which Crowley spent more time drinking the wine and the sight of Aziraphale enjoying his food than actually partaking himself. There had been an entire buffet available and Aziraphale had sampled every single dish of it, to the astonishment of their assigned steward. Crowley had slipped the lad £5 for his troubles. return to text
