Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Despite being in the middle of England, the forgotten town of Tadfield is anything but quiet. It’s anything but big, the type of town where everybody knows everybody's names and business. The people go to church and talk about who didn’t make it. But the rare scandal isn’t what makes this town buzz with life. Tadfield holds an election every two years, and every two years the same people run for mayor.

John Prince is exactly what anyone would picture when someone says the word ‘Catholic’. He wears the same beige and pale blue suit when he donates to the church and is an active member of the community, making conscious appearances where appropriate. The very model of a good Christian man, which is probably why his opponent in the election, that holds as many victories as he does makes him so incredibly frustrated.

Unlike most people, Aleister Crowley does not let his unfortunate naming deflect him. Yes, he is named like the infamous English occultist, but that does not stop him from stepping into the public’s view. Despite the reputation of his name with history, Mr Crowley is known for being the best lawyer in Tadfield, as well as being the lawyer that can win any case with a few extra pounds.

Safe to say, the two despise each other, barely being able to stand in the same room without a fight happening between them. Their rivalry runs so deep and true, that they are not the only ones on edge. It’s a long standing tradition in Tadfield’’s history that the town is mostly divided in two: ‘angels’ and ‘demons’, with the former being Mr Prince supporters and the latter Mr Crowley fans. The line between angels and demons is firm, with angels only ever mingling with other Prince supporters and demons staying in their neighbourhoods, as far away from the church as a whole.

And for the first 17 years of their lives, Anthony Crowley and Aziraphale Prince had never interacted. They had spent their entire school lives together, but never once meeting, like two stars twirling and dancing a delicate orbit, always on the edge of something, something unknown and new. They tend to keep it that way, with Crowley sauntering along the corridors whilst Aziraphale marched with his head high and arm full of books a meter over. This year would be like any other, with the other being just far enough to be comfortable and absolutely no fraternising.

Right?

The first day of school is always chaotic, for students and teachers alike. New students wander aimlessly down the halls with bags twice their size and older students trying to figure out which classes they and their friends have. The bell rang, signaling the start of period one. Crowley stumped his lit cigarette on the wall he was sitting on and began to leisurely walk to class. While it did make him late, it meant he wasn’t shoved up against people and on the rare occasion a Year 7 was lost, he can point them to the opposite direction they were supposed to go in. Always a good laugh, watching them trot down the hall with their bag bursting with textbooks and stationery. He slid his hands as far down his pockets as his tight jeans he wore despite the several dress code violations it broke allowed him, only really having the tips of his fingers inside. He looked around the hall’s walls, noting its peeling paint and the incessant buzzing of the light. Before he realised, he was standing at the door to his class. With a sigh, he shoved the door open and walked in. He secretly revelled in the way the murmur of the class stopped at the sight of him, most people shut up straight away and stood straighter than before. Being one of the school’s sponsor’s kid really did have its benefits. Without a second glance at people, he made his way to the back of the classroom to the seat he’s occupied for the last year. He heard a cough behind him, and turned to meet Mr Shadewell’s, his Maths teacher, eyes.

“You need a cough drop there, sir?” His mouth shot up in a grin as others, mainly his posse of friends, began to snicker.

“You’re late, Anthony. By 10 minutes,” He scolded, clicking his tongue at the end.

“Really? Thought it would be longer,” And with that he turned around to face his friends, Hastur, Ligur, Shax and Dagon. He chuckled under his breath, not bothering to face his teacher when he said:

“Not a good start to the year, Anthony. Stay behind after class, please,” Crowley rolled his eyes, at him and the people who had begun to ‘oooooooh’ at the prospect of him getting in trouble. Honestly now, shouldn’t they expect it by now? Despite his dark lenses, he glared in anyone general’s direction who met his eye, effectively shutting them up and scanning the room for anyone else being an idiot. His eyes landed on the soft curls of white at the front, who hadn’t even looked up once the entire interaction from his book. What a weirdo, reading a book in Maths.

“Oi, where the hell have you been?” He heard from beside him and felt when Hastur smacked him on the shoulder. The Hasturs were strong supporters of his fathers, so being friends with the kid had its benefits, but dear Someone , did he stink most days.

“Smoke break, obviously. What the hell are you doing going to class on time, you neek?” He felt another smack, harder than the first, accompanied with a forceful “Shut up!”

“I might need to push it up. We’re doing our A-levels this year and I don’t have the privilege of being the sponsor’s kid. If I fail, I’m expelled. You should consider putting in some effort too,”

“Never!” He hissed out with a smirk, pulling his broken pen from his pocket and listening up front. When did Hastur become boring? He tried listening for 10 minutes before resorting to doodling on his book, not paying that much attention to what was going on. He heard Shadewell congratulate someone and peeked up from his mind. He saw the same kid, put his hand down and did some sort of weird wiggle before writing down what he had said. Crowley rolled his eyes and tore his gaze from Aziraphale Prince.

After what may have been an eternity, the bell rang and all students pushed up from their chairs and began to pack up their belongings. Crowley lifted himself up and started for the door. Unfortunately, before he could make him, he heard Shadewell’s shaky voice order out.

“I don’t think so, Anthony Crowley. To me please,” He turned around, watching his friends chuckle at his expense. He sneered back, mentally telling them to fuck off when they passed him with some sort of variation of ‘See you later, mate’. He walked up to Shadewell and stood by his desk as Shadewell leaned back.

“You were late,” He stated plainly, not bothering with niceties.

“Good to see your old age hasn’t fucked with your memory yet,” He struggled to hide his grin as he could practically see the steam leave from Shadewell’s ears.

“Watch your language, young man. This is serious, sit down,” He gestured to a seat in front of him. Crowley’s smile faltered slightly and plonked down on the seat.

“This is your final year of college,” Crowley thanked his dark lenses as he openly rolled his eyes, as he began a mental checklist of all the phrases he will say in the speech he’s heard a hundred times before by a hundred different people, “You aren’t in year 7 anymore, and I’ve got year 9 who behave better than you,” Check and check “We aren’t doing GCSEs anymore and you’ve got to start thinking about uni applications and UCAS,” Dear Lord will it end?

“And I’ve got to be honest, Anthony, it’s not looking good,” From his desk, he pulled out a file - his file - and pulled out one of the papers inside.

“I mean, you barely got 4s and 5s in your GCSEs, how do you plan on going to a good university?” Crowley sighed and looked away. Schools only think that going to university and wasting thousands of pounds for a piece of paper is the only thing worth doing.

“And your current grades,” At this, he put the previous sheet away and took out another for Crowley to see. Us and one C, in religious studies. “This is not what anyone wants to see when they are nine months away from sitting an A-level exam” Crowley clenched his jaw, refusing to meet his gaze.

“We have let you come to us for help and you have refused. Therefore, we are forced to take a different approach. Tell me, what do you know about the school’s tutoring program?” At his words, Crowley’s head shot up, his eyebrows benign seen shooting upwards from his glasses.

“Nothing except that it’s optional ,” He responded, adding emphasis on the word ‘optional’.

“Not for you it’s not. You see, you have demonstrated you are not trustworthy enough to get your grades up, so we’re assigning you a tutor, who will go over everything you don’t understand,” At this sentence, he signaled to someone to the right of him and Crowley’s heart dropped straight out his ass.

No. Fucking. Way

There, sitting there with his back straighter than a ruler, his hands crossed over each other and his head high was Aziraphale Prince, soft curls and sweater-he's-only-allowed-to wear-due-to-his-dad galore.

‘“You’re kidding, right?” An incredulous laugh escaped him as he watched Prince turn his head to the side to meet his gaze.

“Quite the opposite, actually. He’s one of the best volunteers the program has seen, helping even older years a few years back and miraculously, he takes every subject you do. Surely, you’ve seen him in class?” Crowley froze, not looking at Shadewell as Prince preened under his praise. Of course he had seen the idiot in his lessons, how could he not? With his overly pristine clothes and unnaturally white hair.

“Besides, what’s truly more miraculous is Aziraphale accepting the offer, isn’t that right?”

“Yes sir,” He spoke elegantly, perfect queen’s English out his mouth and not the filth from Crowley’s.

“Well, I don’t accept the offer,”

“Too bad, as the decision has already been made,” Shadewell packed away the file on his desk and turned to face the two students.

“Best be off to your next lessons. I’ll email your teachers about your tardiness. Who do you have?” Shadewell asked.

“Biology with Madam Tracy”

“Biology with Madam Tracy” They both looked at each other, as they said the same thing.

“Brilliant. Off you go, you two. I have some Year 7s to traumatise next,” At his dismissal, Crowley shot up and practically ran out of the room. He exited, not bothering to apologise to the poor kid he just bumped into. He did something completely uncharacteristic, and raced to the science labs. He was halfway down the hall when he heard someone shout his name. He turned around and wished he never had as Prince ran to catch up with him.

“Wait! Crowley, wait!” Begrudgingly, Crowley halted, causing Prince to nearly bump into him.

“Anthony. My name is Anthony to you, got it?” Prince gulped and Crowley watched his Adam’s apple move up and down.

“Right, sorry,” He paused, catching his breath before starting up again “Anyways, I was wondering if you want to meet up today?”

“What?” Crowley scowled at him, looking as if he had grown a second head right in front of him.

“Today? Tutoring?” He responded incredulously at Crowley having already forgotten.

“Oh right,” He looked away and started walking off, not bothering to respond.

“I was thinking if we meet up at the library after school, until 5, my curfew is at 6 and it really depends what day you’re free-“

“Yeah, yeah, sound good, listen,” Crowley cut off his rambling, finally shutting him up. ”Don't think you’re better than me just ‘cus you’re tutoring me. And don’t think you can approach me anytime you want. We’re not friends. We are an angel and a demon, do you understand, Prince ,” He warned, hissing out the last syllable of his name, his voice dripping in sarcasm . He watched his jaw clench and try to harden his shaky stare.

“Of course, Crowley ,” Crowley ‘tsk’ed and whipped around, not wanting to be anywhere near him.

Crowley, funnily enough, didn’t head to the library after school. Instead, he got in his friend’s run down truck to a field to smoke and do some day drinking. He leaned his head back, letting the welcomed bliss make him woozy and happy. He brought the joint up to his mouth, taking in the smoke before blowing it up towards the sky.

“Oi, stop hogging it, you bellend!” Crowley pulled his head up and lazily passed it to Ligur, who was leaning against Hastur, too high to care about the smell no amount of axe body spray would cover radiating him.

“Sooo, how’d it go with Shadewell?” He suddenly wished for his dark glasses, who had been off the second he was alone with his friends, so he could roll his eyes freely at her obviousness. No matter how many times he said it or the million ways he put it, Shax still didn’t quite grasp the concept of ‘I DON'T LIKE WOMEN’ and insistently flirted with any opportunity she had.

“Utter bullshit,” He turned away from her, facing Ligur, Hastur and Dagon.

“Go on then, what he say?” Encouraged Ligur.

“It started with the same shit of ‘you’re not year 7’ and ‘you’ve got to start thinking about university’ blah blah BLAH,” They snickered at his expression of the nutty professor, having had years of mockery to practise.

“Then he started going off about how they couldn’t trust me to bring my grades up and that my grades have gone to shit…” He trailed off, suddenly feeling woozy from the joint.

“Go on, then what?” Hastur said. He glared, mentally communicating his brain’s state.

“He said that I have to be enrolled in the school’s shitty tutoring program and it’s a miracle they accepted to tutor me and how brilliant my tutor is,” His friends grimaced with sympathy, or at his state, considering they were an ungrateful bunch.

“That’s fucked, sorry mate,” Dagon said with smoke billowing out her mouth.

“Oh, that’s not even the worse part,” He paused, being the dramatic bitch he is, “MY tutor… is fucking Prince!” Collectively, four jaws dropped in shock.

“What!” Shax screeched.

“Prince? As in holier-than-thou, reading a book anywhere he is, your father’s arch-nemesis’ child, Prince?” Blurted Dagon, Crowley nodding his head ruefully, “I take back my previous statement: that’s extremely fucked up,”

“I agree with Dagon, when are you supposed to be meeting him?” Ligur asked, now pulled away from Hastur. Crowley exaggerated pulling out his phone to check the time.

“About an hour and a half ago,” His friends cackled, and he temporarily forgot about his situation. “Well, at some point, I’m going to have to start going and have to listen ramble on about nonsense and waste my time on pointless sessions,” His friends quieted down. Being aware he brought the mood down, he tugged at the joint and took another puff. After a couple seconds, Hastur spoke up.

“What if you made it… not pointless?” Everyone turned to face him. Crowley raised his eyebrow in confusion, silently urging him to explain.

“Do you remember a few years back when your dad won because Prince dropped out?” Crowley’s drugged brain tried looking back, hard when all memories, including the ones made two seconds ago became hazy. Finally, Shax responded.

“Oh yeah! Didn’t his eldest son, Samuel come out or sumthin’?” Something in Crowley’s mind clicked, and his brain shot back to year 7 when dad had won after 3 elections of nothing.

“I think she goes by Lucy now, Shax,” He corrected her, trying to rationalise his uneasy feeling in his stomachs when she rolled her eyes and didn’t bother correcting herself.

“Yeah, what if you did that?” Everyone cocked their heads in confusion.

“Come out… as trans?”

“No. I mean, the next election is this July. What if you pull up some dirt on the Prince kid and make Prince drop out of the race again so your dad can win again?” Crowley could do nothing but stare, too woozy to form a conscious stream of thought.

“Hu-h yeah, wait. What do you have in mind?”

“What if you shag him?” Jaws dropped once more as Crowley immediately sobered up at Hastur's bluntness.

“I’m fucking sorry. What!?” 

“Think about it. Dude’s a raging Catholic, immanent in the community and thinks about God every second of the day. Dude’s probably not wanting his kid to be gay, just like he didn’t want his son-“

“-Daughter”

“Daughter, yeah whatever. Just like how he didn’t want his daughter to be trans. You release that Azipapalaraf is a fag and boom! Your dad wins!” Crowley rubbed his face with his hand, giving up telling Hastur that he can’t use that word.

“That’s all good and all but there is no way in hell I am shagging that kid,” He concluded, passing the nearly finished joint to Shax to end. He turned around, thinking that was the end of it.

“More like you couldn’t shag him even if you wanted to,” Crowley stopped at Hastur’s words. What was that supposed to mean?

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” He replied, smirking, finding himself humorous.

“It’s clearly not ‘nothing’ and you will tell me now or so help me God-“

“FINE, fine!” Hastur looked for support, finding none but Crowley’s threatening gaze “It’s just that even if he is gay, there is no way he’d go for you,”

“Why do you think so, Hastur?” He punched out, still glaring at him and hissing the ‘S’ in his name like a snake.

“Well, first of all, you’re a CROWLEY and he’s a PRINCE! No universe out there can get a Crowley and Prince together. Secondly, the repressed, religious trauma coming off of him is overwhelming. He’ll probably want someone like him, someone academic and Christian and not some sad, pathetic kid who gets high in the back of his friend’s truck-“

“Now you listen here you little shit-“

“In fact, I bet you you can’t get him underneath you by the end of the year!” The other watched the tense interaction with wide eyes and disbelief. Crowley was their unofficial official leader, and no one dared to speak up to him. Except Hastur just did, and he wasn’t supporting a black eye and split lip.

“How much?” Crowley muttered under his breath, barely audible but heard.

“A tenner” He replied confidently.

“A tenner? What am I, a cheap hooker?” 

“Twenty”

“Ain’t happening,”

“100!” Hastur shouted, immediately regretting as Crowley’s grin grew exponentially.

“100 quid I can shag Prince-“

“-by the end of the year,” Crowley sighed, pushing his tongue to his teeth.

“100 quid I can shag Prince by the end of the year. Deal?” He held his hand out, waiting for Hastur to shake it. Hastur grasped his hand and shook ferociously. Ligur howled and Dagon cackled in shock and awe. Shax slithered up beside him, resting her hands on his arm.

“I’m confident you can do it. Anyone would want you,” she tipped her head down and battered her eyelashes, causing Crowley’s stomach to flip.

Dear Lord, what has he signed up for?

Chapter Text

What had he done?

From when he woke up, he had regretted everything he had done the past day. Why did he get so pissed at Hastur for suggesting that? He trudged through the morning, his head heavy with a migraine that probably won’t leave him for the rest of the day. He picked the least dirty shirt from his floor to put on, slithered downstairs to grab some breakfast, read the note from his father saying he won’t be back until late again and drove to school.

He dragged himself up the stairs and was forced to approach his friends. He was too hungover for this, not listening to whatever bullshit they were on about. He blinked, trying to focus his eyesight, already difficult with the dark lenses on his head. How the hell was he supposed to do this? There was no way in hell Prince had done anything remotely unholy in his life, probably not even wearing mixed fabrics, so how was he supposed to shag him, let alone kiss him. Would he even know what to do? He’s probably a ‘wait for marriage’ kind of guy. Fucking self righteous prick-

“Oi, look who’s coming up now, it’s your boyfriend,” Crowley was pulled from his thoughts as Hastur’s scratchy voice stabbed his ear. He whipped his head around and thanked Someone he was wearing his glasses as Prince was storming up to him, his face with a wrath that could rival God’s.

“Where were you?” He crossed his arms and stared up at him. Crowley was barely 5 cm above, but used it to his advantage, trying his best to loom over the other.

“Where was I when, sweetheart? I’ve been to many places in my life before,” He heard his friend snicker behind him and watched Prince’s face grow more red.

“Yesterday, I waited 2 hours for you. And don’t call me that,” He replied.

“Aw, did you get your pretty curls in a titz, waiting for lil old me, darling?” He shook his hand over his curls, relishing in the sting when Prince told him to stop and push his hands away from him.

“I told you not to call me that,” He huffed out, possibly one interaction away from stomping his foot.

“What shall I call you, sweetie?” He pulled his mouth to the side, playing it up for his friends who were nearly cackling at this point. Idiots, what was that funny?

“My name?” He answered, as if it was the most obvious point in the world.

“Oh yeah, a name no one in the history of ever has considered. Please, tell me how it is pronounced, Azifafal?” He responded, letting a dry chuckle out of his own.

“Aziraphale,” His voice dropped, making it seem like he growled it out. Crowley gulped, the atmosphere changed. Thankfully, his dignity was saved from being questioned as Hastur came by him and threw his arm around his shoulders. Crowley held his breath as he spoke.

“To answer you previous question, Azipapal, he was getting high in the back of my truck,” Prince’s indignation at the mispronunciation of his name disappeared at Hastur’s response, he flicked his eyes between the two, an incredulous look in his eye. Finally, he stammered out a meek:

“May you be forgiven,” At those words, Crowley pushed himself off, relishing in finally being able to breathe clean air and towering over Prince.

“How very kind of you,” He spat the word in his face, “but you can take your forgiveness and shove up your ass. Didn’t I tell you to not approach me in school?” The question lingered between them. Crowley pondered if he leant in closer, could he feel the breath coming out of Prince’s nose as his chest rose and fell rapidly.

“You… bad person. You can find yourself another tutor, Anthony,” And with that, he sped past him, knocking into his shoulder and not apologising. What a bastard. He straightened himself up and turned to face his friends, removing any emotion left on his face.

“As funny as that was, I’m going to celebrate that 100 quid you owe me as you just blew all future opportunities to talk to him with a plausible excuse,” Hastur snickered out and turned to walk to his lesson. Crowley huffed out in exasperation.

Well, that went down like a lead balloon

The lunch bell rang, signalling the students’ end of their break. Crowley lay with his head in his hands and watched as his friends all left to go to their class. Normally, he’d walk with them to Law and then walk to the library as he had a free period. Today, he didn’t move and said bye without standing. After having shared a look between them, the 4 other demons left the hall and left him alone. He resigned his fate and went to stand up. As he lifted his head, he saw a blond tuff of curls bundled in a ridiculously white coat leave and head in the direction of the library. He smiled to himself, this was perfect. He thanked God for being on his side and ran to catch up to Prince.

He entered the library’s quiet sanctuary and scanned for a familiar face. His eyes landed on Prince, who had a book and a set of colourful tabs near him. He swayed his way to the kid and plopped down next to him. A minute of silence passed, with Crowley staring at him as he highlighted certain phrases and made a note about what they meant. Without lifting his head, Prince spoke up.

“What are you doing?” Crowley shrugged, trying his best to look casual.

“Just sitting. I have a free period, you know-“

“- I know you have a free period. I mean what are you doing here? Next to me?” He cut him off and finally tore his gaze away from his book and titled his head, waiting for an explanation.

“I-wug-hu. I wanted… to come and say-say that I’m...” He trailed off, Prince raised one perfectly arched eyebrow.

“Sorry?”

“Yes!” He looked at the librarian who shushed him for speaking too loud, “Yeah, I’m that. Wanted to say that,” He crossed his arms and shrugged, feeling extremely uncomfortable. Prince looked him up and down, and Crowley thanked his glasses for the feeble protection they gave under his scrutiny. After a second, Prince turned back to his back and without a second glaze whispered:

“No,” Crowley’s eyes widened and his eyebrows raised in shock.

“No?  What do you mean no?”

“I want a proper apology. Not whatever that was,” Prince turned to speak with him, only to turn back to his book. Crowley stared in shock. 

“You’re a bastard. You know that, right?” Prince merely lifted his eyebrows in response and tilted his head as he muttered ‘language’ under his breath “Look, you don’t know this, but I’m bad at this whole apologising business, as in, I don’t apologise… ever,” Prince kept looking at his book “What do you want me to do? Dance?” Crowley immediately regretted the words that came out of his mouth as Prince stopped the sentence he was highlighting and turned to him with a sadistic smile.

“Okay,”

“Excuse me?”

“You offered. Dance,” Prince lay his hands on the table over each other and looked at Crowley in anticipation. Crowley stared back. There was no way in hell Prince was suggesting he dance as an apology. With no movement to signify a joke, Crowley inhaled and gathered all remaining dignity:

“You were right, you were right. I was wrong, you were right,” He waved his hands statically and ended with an awkward bow, clicking the last ‘t’. Righ-tuh. 

“‘Kay?” Crowley watched Prince fail to repress a grin. He nodded slightly and watched him with judgy eyes.

“Very nice,” Crowley rolled his eyes, already regretting following him in.

“So, can we start again?” Prince swallowed and gave a miniscule nod. Crowley stuck his hand out.

“Anthony. Anthony Crowley,” Prince watched his hand fearfully “It doesn’t bite,” Prince looked up and gave himself a supportive breath in.

“I’m Aziraphale,” He shook his hands and Crowley had to pull his focus from how soft his hands were.

“Right,” He smirked.

Crowly had never gotten his head around the concept of pathetic fallacy until he related to the thundering lightning outside the library. He was fuming. He slumped further into his seat, willing himself invisible. In all his years at this school, he had never set foot in the library willingly. And people knew this, as those who passed him ogled him like an animal in a zoo. He could only do so much scowling before people realised that was the only thing he was doing and just kept staring at him openly. Prince was late, after he got mad at Crowley for not showing up. What a hypocritical little bastard-

“Sorry! Sorry I’m late,” Crowley was pulled from his mental rant by Prince's annoying voice. He had prepared what he was going to say, starting by yelling about what an incompetent-

Holy shit!

Prince stood in front of him, arms tightly carrying a bundle of books, dripping wet. Crowley couldn’t help but laugh as Prince’s gaze turned more furious.

“Don’t laugh!” He enunciated, which only made Crowley laugh louder.

“Did you forget to look outside before you stepped out?” Prince huffed in response and dropped his books, only the slightest bit wet on to the table.

“I’ll have you know I was fully prepared for today’s weather,” Crowley huffed, remembering his stupidly over the top coat he was supporting this morning.

“Oh yeah. Didn’t you have a coat,” He watched Prince’s eyes widen, as he slowly realised he had cornered himself into a conversation he didn’t wish to answer.

“It was huge and made you look like the marshmallow man from ghostbusters. What happened to it?” Prince looked away ashamed. Crowley kept going.

“Lost it already, have you?” Prince mumbled something under his breath, something in audible, Crowley leaned in.

“You what?”

“I gave it away!” A loud shush from the librarian scolded them as Crowley stared at Prince wide-eyed. At his guarded stare, Prince explained.

“Well, you’ve seen the weather and there was this lady and she’s expecting so I said ‘here you, warm coat’ and I couldn’t just leave her out in the rain, so I brought her the the chapel and made sure she was well situated and by then the rain had gotten worse and I was already late so I just came here as soon as I could so we can just drop it now,” He finished with a pent-up sigh, having run out of air halfway through his explanation.

“Actually, I would like a proper apology. The dance, if you will,” He gestured to him as Prince stared back in disbelief.

“Oh, please Anthony. Do I really?” Crowley made no sound, no movement, copying Prince’s cold behaviour previously that day.

“I don’t even remember what you did. I doubt I can recreate what you did,”

“Well, mine was a first draft. We need a better version that isn't sporadically waving my hand around,” Prince gave in with a resigned sigh, and lifted his arm at every sentence.

“You were right, you were right. I was wrong, you were right. Can we proceed now?” Crowley rolled his eyes behind his glasses, but made his annoyance obvious. Prince pulled out a well worn biology textbook and flicked to the first chapter. As he began explaining, Crowley stopped him.

“I haven’t done this,”

“We have,” Crowley looked at him blankly to explain “Last year? I thought considering your grades, we should go over last year's topics as well. Good thing I did,” Crowley clenched his jaw to comment on his smart-ass tone. As he kept explaining, Crowley hated to admit it but he… understood. For the first time, he actually understood the mechanics of what he was learning and wasn’t lost. Prince was probably better than some teachers Crowley had in the past, stopping after every point and answering Crowley’s questions, no matter how foolish he felt they were with no judgement.

What a pretentious prick.

After half an hour of review, Prince pulled out a sheet of questions about the topic and told him to complete it. He took no complaints and only acknowledged him if they were questions about the task. He stopped the question he was on and looked up. Prince was totally engrossed in a book, twirling a pen between his fingers, looking like the epitome of warmth despite the fact his curls clung to his forehead.

“Can I ask a question?” Prince looked up, as if Crowley’s voice was an intruder in his brain.

“What? Oh, yes of course, what is it?” Crowley licked his lips and leaned forwards in his seat.

“What’s the deal with your name?” Prince rolled his eyes.

“Anthony-“

“No, I’m serious. It might be one of the strangest names I have ever heard. And my father’s named after the man responsible for Satanism,” Crowley watched as Prince mentally debated giving in and answering his question. Crowley smirked when he put his book down.

“My parents wanted a biblical name-“

“And they couldn’t pick a normal one-“

“I’m getting there,” Crowley lifted his hands in defence and allowed him to carry on.

“I was the youngest of my brothers. By the time I was born, the names John, David, Adam, Peter, Gabriel were already in use. Micheal was technically taken, but my sister wasn't a boy so Michela it is, and Sa-“ He stopped himself, his conflict evident on his face. Crowley frowned slightly at him but Prince carried on soon after “ And well, there were probably some more normal ones, but all my cousins were born and well, we try not to have doubles so… Aziraphale,” Crowley nodded but kept pestering.

“Right, but last I checked, Jesus wasn’t hanging round no ‘Aziraphale’ when he was around,” Prince smiled at his ignorance and responded:

“Aziraphale was an angel. He was apparently a guard of the Garden of Eden,” Prince concluded, looking wistfully into the distance.

“So, you’re an angel?” Crowley said with a grin on his face and revelled in Prince’s face turning red at the compliment.

“I-oh well I. Just-Just-Just do the work, please!” Crowley snorted and turned back to the paper and the mitosis question he’s been avoiding. He scribbled some garbage he could vaguely make out and flicked his gaze back to Prince, who was again engrossed in his book.

“I’m sorry, angel, you have 8 siblings?” Prince gave no reaction to the effect of his new nickname, only evident by his quickly reddening cheeks.

“Do your work, Anthony,” He said, not lifting his eyes from the book.

“I have. I’ve finished it. Look!” He gestured down to his completed sheet. Prince kept looking at his book.

“Even the back page?” Crowley furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and flipped the page to find a second set of questions.

“God damn it,” He muttered under his breath, not quietly enough as Prince scolded him.

“Language,”

“Oh come on! Loosen up angel,” Prince raised his eyebrows in annoyance, not looking in Crowley’s direction.

“Do your work,” He commanded, his voice edging the tone he used with Hastur earlier that day.

“All I’m saying is that you're 17 now, and you still get in a tizzy over someone saying ‘damn’,” Prince shut his book, the librarian whipping her head around at the invasion of sound in her sanctuary.

“Your point, Anthony?”

“All I’m saying is that you should live a little, y’know?”

“I live just fine, thank you very much,” Prince went to turn back to his book but Crowley spoke up and stopped his movements.

“Yeah, you live but you don’t live. Like, I bet you never swear,”

“Of course not, it's not a very Christian thing-“

“Or drink-“

“If you count communion wine-“

“And no ones popped your cherry yet-“

“Anthony enough!” Turned to face him head on, his chest rising with anger. “Are you finished yet?” Crowley failed to meet his eye, muttering out a ‘no’ and went back to the page. Prince huffed and looked away, putting his book back in his bag. Crowley finished the last question and handed him the sheet in front of him. After a moment of silence, Prince had finished marking the questions. More crosses then ticks but much more than he had gotten last year.

“Good. Room for improvement but nicely answered, especially that mitosis question,” He gave an encouraging smile, which Crowley did not reciprocate. The smile faltered and Prince began to pack up what was on the table.

“Well it isn’t quite 5pm but I think we can stop now-“

“Yeah, we’re done here,” Crowley launched himself out of the seat and escaped the library, escaping Prince.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale’s keys jangled in the doorway as they let him enter into his house. He relished in the warmth of the inside, as he walked back in the cold, much colder without his coat. He called out for his parents, and they responded in a far away room, the living room. He took off his shoes and navigated the hallways to his family’s living room. His mother and father sat around an open fire, his mother knitting some garment and his father with a cross word in his hands.

“And why are you late?” His father asked, not looking up to face him. A cold sweat ran down Aziraphale as fear shook his voice.

“Late? It’s 5:30, my curfew isn’t until 6!”

“Lower your voice when speaking to me,” His father tore his gaze from his crossword and threw it onto his lap “Your curfew may be at 6, but school finishes at 3. So I’ll repeat myself. Why are you late?" Aziraphale gulped his anxiety down-

“And where is your coat?”

Aziraphale stood in front of him, crossing his hands in front of his body and looking down.

“Well, I was going-"

“Look at me when you're speaking to me,” His father commanded, and Aziraphale pulled his head from the floor. “And speak up. Good Christian young men don’t mumble,” Aziraphale gathered his confidence and started again:

“I was walking to the library and there was this woman and she was pregnant and I couldn’t just walk past her, so I went with her to the chapel and I gave her my coat and got her situated,” He finished, feeling a bit proud of his act of kindness. His confidence smothered when he saw his father’s expression.

“Do you know how expensive that coat was? And you gave it away?!” He started to shout. His mother stopped her knitting and flicked her gaze between the two men, Aziraphale tried his hardest not to tremble and collapse right there. He remembered telling Anthony earlier that day, and he had stared at him with an incredulous smile and he almost looked… proud? Or shocked? Aziraphale didn’t know. All he knew was that the patron of the church appreciated his act less than the apparent rebel of the town.

“She didn’t deserve that coat! What made you do something that foolish?” Aziraphale’s eyes pricked with tears.

“She was homeless, and I have many coats. I- I thought I could do some good and help someone in need. Was that wrong?” His father restrained his anger and sighed in defeat.

“No. No I suppose not,” Aziraphale let his body relax, if only for a moment. His father leaned back further into his seat. 

“That still doesn’t explain why you are in at 5:30. Do you truly need to go to the library to complete your school work?” Aziraphale straightened his posture and began to explain

“Actually, I wasn’t doing school work. As you know, I am enrolled in the school’s tutoring program,"

“You said so yesterday. You said you were assigned that Crowley kid and I ordered you to drop out,” He leant forward in his chair “You haven’t disobeyed me, have you Aziraphale?” 

He had gone to the office after his interaction with Anthony, not having lied when he told him to find a new tutor. While Anthony telling him and his forgiveness to ‘sho… go away’ was a key factor, it was mainly because when he had told his father over dinner that night he didn’t show up why and who caused him to be late, his father had to… educate him on why that was wrong and to tell the school that he declined their offer. Thankfully, with ice provided by his mother, his father’s lesson had healed up by morning and no one was none the wiser.

So technically, he hadn’t disobeyed him. If he were to call up the office, they would tell him he doesn’t officially tutor Anthony anymore. He breathed in deeply and looked at his father.

“Of course not, father. I went to the office to explain the situation on why I cannot tutor A-Crowley anymore and they accepted it. However, I am one of the best tutors the school has and has asked me to tutor other years groups as a whole rather than a specific person,” He stood firm, ignoring the fact his heart was bursting in his chest. His father looked him up and down, staring at his face for any sign of disobedience. At last, he leant back and nodded solemnly.

“Good. I’m glad you decided to follow my advice. You may go now,” He looked to his mother, who smiled comfortably, and nodded in support. He turned to to go but his father called out:

“One more thing,” Aziraphale froze, had he decided he was lying- found out he was lying. He never had a reason to lie to his parents before, always bearing the punishment sooner rather than later as he witnessed what the effect of time had on his father’s punishments. He spun round, masking his face best he could.

“Yes father?”

“Do not brag. It is not what Christian men do,”

Aziraphale shut his door and felt today’s pressures pull him to the ground. He had just lied to his parents. Bad enough he lied, but to his parents! ‘Honour your father and mother’ a commandment! Above killing and stealing. What had he done? If his father found out, he’d be furious, enraged. Oh Lord, what if he suffered the same fate as Samuel? 

Aziraphale grabbed his chest, as if he could hold his heart down and will it to slow down. He felt his eyes sting with guilt and regret and fear. He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes to stop them as hard as he could from crying. He had to right this. He decided, next Sunday, he’d have a confession with Father Abel and tell him about his sin so God would forgive him-

Wait.

If he told Father Abel, he’ll have to right it and have to tell his father he's still hanging around Anthony Crowley, the Princes’ worst enemy. Oh dear, what has he gotten himself into? This is fine, he can still atone for this. He pulled himself from the floor only to kneel by the side of his bed. He clasped his hands tightly and squeezed his eyes.

Lord, I know that I am a sinner. Please forgive me for dishonouring my father by lying to him, and please guide me to become more like you. Please help me to watch my words and actions, and guard me against future mistakes and errors. Amen

It was a long time since he’d had to ask for forgiveness, an even longer time he’d done so in his own room rather than the confession booth. Despite the unfamiliarity of the comforting act, he felt better about his actions and opened his eyes with a smile. After a second he closed them again and added:

And please forgive Anthony for his words today, even if he doesn’t want forgiveness.

With this, he stood up and started getting ready.

Chapter Text

It feels like an eternity ago that Aziraphale didn’t tutor Anthony nearly everyday after school but in reality only a couple weeks had passed. Now, it was almost second nature to go to the library and meet up. They had forgotten about the argument they had that first session, with Crowley showing up behind him doing the apology dance, now including his legs. It stayed the same during the school day. Anthony would hang around his friends and skip class and not acknowledge Aziraphale’s presence and Aziraphale would pretend like they didn’t talk, but after school, when they would sit at their table, it was like the outside world was shut away and they could briefly forget who they were.

It was an average Thursday and they reviewed last year's RS topics like they have done the previous Thursdays that came. And like the previous Thursday, Anthony asked questions.

“All I’m saying, angel, is that Mackie was onto something with that inconsistent triad business. Don’t you think so too, angel?” Aziraphale rolled eyes without looking up at his notes. Anthony had taken up the habit of calling him angel, and try as he might, he refused to call him anything else. Better than Prince, he supposes.

“It’s not for us to understand. It’s ineffable ,” He responded, feeling very proud of himself. Anthony just looked at him like he’d grown two heads, or he thinks he does, considering those dark glasses he wears on his head. Aziraphale had wondered what was under there, what their colour was, especially at night, when he’d returned home and thought over any particularly funny moment that happened.

“Ineffable? God is… ineffable?”

“Exactly, He is beyond understanding and He’s incapable of being put into words,” Aziraphale stood proud, back straight as he looked at Anthony who was staring at the table, and ergo his sheet, like it had murdered his entire family.

“Yeah, well, I need to put Him into words or the best I’ll get is a C,” He mumbled and went back to sketching apples and snakes on his paper. 

“Just finish the work, please,” He said, closing his notebook and bringing out his worn copy of Hamlet and began reading. He could feel Anthony’s gaze on him, but he paid him no mind, much more interested in the regicide.

“Whatcha reading?” He said, sprawled out on the uncomfortable wooden chair like it was a king’s throne.

“Finish the work and I’ll tell you,” He replied, not bothering to meet his gaze.

“It’s Hamlet again, isn’t it?” He responded, a knowing grin etched into his face.

“I really don’t understand your hatred, my dear. It is one of Shakespeare’s best!” He huffed out. He failed to notice Crowley’s brain short circuit at the pet name, just like he had done the past times it had slipped out.

“I’ve told you, I don’t hate it, I just prefer the funny ones,” Anthony said, pushing forward his paper “and I’ve done the work, see? Both sides!” He held up the paper and twisted it around so that Aziraphale could see his scrawl on both sides.

“Give it here, then,” He grabbed the sheet from his hands and started marking. These always took longer than Maths or Biology, as it was much more up to interpretation. Anthony always complained how he was biassed and didn’t give him the correct amounts of marks which was preposterous but Anthony insisted on having the mark scheme to double check anyways.

“Good job, you could try and bring other theologies, like utilitarianism,” Anthony nodded and gave himself a little smile at the mark he got. “We can go through utilitarianism tomorrow if you’d prefer that over-

“Actually, I think I’m hanging out with Hastur and them lot,” Anthony interrupted. Aziraphale looked up from his bag and whipped round to face him. Crowley raised his eyebrows in surprise at the speed and looked at him. Aziraphale froze, unsure why.

“It’s just that, I’ve been blowing them off a lot these past weeks during the week and I fear Shax may set fire to my house if I don’t go out,” Aziraphale nodded, unable to speak. Of course he’d want to hang out with his friends instead of him. The weird chubby kid who looked and acted and spoke like a middle aged man.

“I-I might not go though. Not really feeling it,” Crowley spoke up quickly. Aziraphale nodded.

“Well, just come up to me during our free period tomorrow and tell me-“

“Or I could text you,” ah. Of course Anthony’s absurd rule of no talking during school “I realised yesterday we never exchanged numbers when I was thinking about that one question I didn’t get yesterday and I couldn’t talk to you about it,” Aziraphale looked down, already feeling his neck burning up and blood rushing to his cheeks. He thought the reason for this was the idea that Crowley thought about him after they see each other but decided rather it was due to:

“I don’t have a telephone. Or any electronic device,” He turned back and finished packing away. Anthony’s jaw dropped in utter shock.

“You don’t have a phone?” He questioned, unable to comprehend the idea of a teenager functioning without a phone.

“Father prohibits them. He says we can only get them once once we get accepted into a university,” he explained, a resigned smile carved into his face. “I’d give you the number for the landline, but if father catches you calling, he will be furious,” Aziraphale laughed, but faltered when he caught Anthony’s concerned gaze. It quickly disappeared as it was replaced with shock and confusion once more.

“Wait a minute. I distinctly remember Gabriel with a phone when he was in sixth form,” Aziraphale nodded stiffly, confirming Anthony’s belief.

“He got all 9s in his GCSEs. Father was so proud of him, he gave him one for his birthday.” Anthony tipped his head back and groaned, displaying his long pale back. Aziraphale gulped and looked away.

“Oh, of course he did. What a twat,” He huffed and crossed his arms, leaning dangerously back on his chair.

“Anthony,” He warned, already having expressed his opinions on language.

“He is though, don’t you agree?” He opened his arms up and Aziraphale refused to meet his eye.

“I-..” At his hesitance, Anthony let gravity fix his chair and leant forward with a mischievous grin.

“Oh my God, you think Gabriels a twat,” Aziraphale turned to meet his gaze wide eyed and mouth open in shock.

“I do not!” Anthony nodded instead, as if he didn't hear his refusal.

“You do. You think he’s a total twat,”

“I did not say that. I do not think that,” Aziraphale defended quickly as he crossed his arms in exasperation.

“I don’t believe you,” Crowley said in a sing-song voice “Say it,”

“No,”

“Say ‘Gabriel is a twat’,”

“I’m not saying that,”

“ ‘I Aziraphale’-“ Crowley started, putting on a very exaggerated British accent.

“I do not sound like that,”

“Think Gabriel is the biggest twat in the world,”

“Anthony!” Aziraphale laughed loudly, at which the librarian, growing more tired of their antics every day, shushed them. Aziraphale quietened down, but was failing to retain his laugh, mimicking Anthony’s grin.

“I think that’s enough for today, don’t you think?” Aziraphale said, standing up as he did. Anthony nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, stay here any longer and Mrs Young will put us in the ground,” Aziraphale scoffed at the hyperbole and waited for Crowley to gather his things, which had grown exponentially since the first session when all he had brought was a broken ballpoint pen. They walked out the library, side by side and stopped at the steps. It was 5pm, and the first hint of shorter days was present in the air, as it was darker than it was at the beginning of September. They stood facing each other, not quite meeting each other's eyes.

“I’m that way,” Aziraphale gestured behind him. Anthony nodded.

“I’m that way,” He copied, pointing behind him as well.

“Cool,” Aziraphale said. This was always awkward, no matter how many times they said goodbye a week.

“In case I don’t see you tomorrow, see you Monday?” Aziraphale said, looking up at him. Anthony smiled and tipped his head forwards.

“See you Monday, angel,” And with that, he spun on his heels and walked away, to his neighbourhood, with other demons. Aziraphale watched him shove his hands in his jeans and sway down towards his car. With a sigh, Aziraphale gathered himself and started his journey home.

Crowley gripped the steering wheel and forced himself to look forwards. He hated to admit it but he was slowly starting to enjoy these sessions. He hadn’t been lying when he said his friends might burn his house down if he didn’t come out. Quite literally, as Shax slammed down a lighter on the table that lunch time and threatened to burn his house, starting with his plants. And he hated to admit it even more that he’s actually thinking about trading an afternoon of drinks and nicotine for studying. A shiver went down his spine at the thought, but it was true.

When Prince had looked at him with those eyes - the biggest, fullest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen - like the thought of him not spending an evening with him made him sad, Crowley felt this instinctual reaction to make take back everything he had just said and risk his possessions being burnt in order to make him happy. Which was insane. Like, hello? We’re talking about Aziraphale. Prince here. A Prince, who went to church every opportunity he had and who uses ‘goodness me’ instead of ‘Oh my god’ like a normal person.

And talking about a normal person, what teenager doesn’t have a phone in the 21st century? And what father ‘prohibits it’? His father wasn’t the most involved in his life but, come on! How do you expect your kid to build any sort of social skills and connections nowadays? He was pulled from his thoughts as he pulled into his driveway. He tore his glasses off his face and rubbed his eyes until they stung. There was no point thinking about this anymore. It’s not like he could do anything, right?

He twisted the door’s handle and stepped inside his home. He hung up his coat and dropped his keys in the bowl by the door. The inside matched the outside of his house, very modern, very minimalist with a couple art pieces splattered around the house. He called out and followed the sound of his father’s voice into the kitchen.

He wasn’t oblivious. He knew the rumours surrounding his dad and his less than holy behaviour and actions. But seeing him like this, in a ‘kiss the chef’ apron with a look of total concentration, he debated whether this was the same man people said was a criminal.

“Oh hey. I’m making fajitas!” He said, holding up the pan he had in hand.

“I see that,” Crowley leaned on the door frame, watching him hum under his breath as he moved about.

“How was school?” He lifted his head up for a moment to ask him

“Fine. Same old, same old,” Crowley replied, sighing as he did so. His father paused, looking back at him from the pan.

“You alright there?” Crowley began to nod before he paused and thought. After a second he lifted his gaze to look his father in the eye.

“What did we ever do with those old IPhones whenever we replaced ours?” His father furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head at the strangeness of the question.

“They’re still in my office, I think. In one of the drawers, why?” Crowley paused for a second. Why did he want to know? Because he hated that the answer had something to do with being nice and Aziraphale Prince.

“Dagon dropped her phone and it cracked and her parents aren’t in the exact position to buy her a new one,” Crowley lied easily, as if it was second nature, and thankfully his father accepted it without doubt.

“Just go in there and grab the least broken one. Call it an extremely early Christmas present from me,” Crowley smiled and thanked him as he ran down the hall to his father’s study. “And go wash up, you still have the table to set!”

Aziraphale had accepted that he wasn’t going to see Crowley that day. When he had passed him in the corridor, he had shown no sign of recognition. He didn’t most days but at least a subtle sign today of ‘yeah, see you at 3pm ’ or a ‘nope, I'd rather hang out with them ’ but no sign. Then, when their free period had come and gone and he’d gone into his usual routine of not showing, Aziraphale accepted it and went on his merry way. Which is why when Anthony grabbed him as he passed the library on the way home, he yelped in surprise.

“Hey! Just me! Calm down,” Aziraphale’s heart raced as Anthony held both his wrist in one hand to stop his movements.

“Anthony? Goodness me, you scared me!” Anthony nodded rapidly.

“Yeah, yeah I know. It’s just you were walking by and couldn’t help myself,” Aziraphale’s face contorted with confusion “I wanted to give you this,” As he said this, Anthony pulled a box from his jacket and presented it to Aziraphale.

“What is it?”

“You know, research finds that opening it reveals more results than asking,” He said sarcastically. Aziraphale deadpanned at him, but it seemed to have no effect. With a sigh, he opened the box and once he saw what was inside, his hand stilled.

“Is this…”

“A phone? Yeah, it is” Aziraphale looked up with his mouth hanging open in disbelief. His eyes flicked from the phone to Anthony rapidly.

“You, you’re giving me a phone?” Aziraphale asked and Anthony nodded in confirmation “You didn’t have to get me one,”

“Yeah well, my father buys a new phone every 2 years, and the old ones were sitting there collecting dust so I thought, ‘why not go to a needy teenager who needs his brain cells fried?’,” Aziraphale laughed in disbelief, still not comprehending the fact he’s got a phone. A secret phone. A phone that must and will most definitely have to be hidden from his father.

“I don’t know what to say. Anthony this is so nice-“

“NO! No, no, no, no. This is not nice. Crowleys aren’t nice, I’m not nice. Nice is a four letter word, a word I am not. This is actually very devious as I’m introducing you to an evil machine more addicting than any drug currently in the world,” Aziraphale giggled, despite the fact Anthony loomed over him and pointed his finger in a very threatening way.

“I don’t know. I think you may be the only nice Crowley,” He smirked, knowing how it irritated Anthony. He got his desired result as Anthony audibly groaned.

“If I’m a Nice Crowley, than you are a Bastard Prince,”

“So you’ve said. Many times,” Aziraphale responded, crossing his arms as he looked up with a knowing grin.

“Open it, I made sure to put in all the essentials,” Anthony said. As the phone blinked to life, it produced a picture of Anthony with his characteristic side grin looking up into the camera. Aziraphale laughed as he swiped up and Anthony was there again, now supporting a winking face.

“You can change these, obviously. To whatever you like,” Anthony spoke up. Aziraphale looked up at him and nodded. Of course he should. It would be weird to have your supposed number one enemy as your background for the secret phone you’re not supposed to have.

“Honestly, I don’t know how I can ever repay you,”

“You don’t need to worry, angel. If anything, this is me repaying you for helping pass my A-levels,”

“If you pass them,” Aziraphale responded and Anthony’s mouth fell open and Aziraphale immediately recognised he said the wrong thing. “I don’t truly mean that, my dear,-”

“Ho oh. No, no, no angel. You will regret saying that for I have the perfect way of you repaying me,” Aziraphale’s eyes blew wide with fear. Oh dear Lord, what is he going to ask? By the look of that grin on his face, it probably isn't anything good.

“Obviously, you are teaching me all about schools and academia and all that jazz. In order to repay me, you have to let me teach you about life,” Anthony responded, dragging out the last syllable.

“Life?” Aziraphale asked, confused.

“You are wasting away your teenage years and you haven’t done a single risky thing apart from missing bible study to read a book. You, angel, are going to try all things you haven’t in the past,” Aziraphale moaned as he shut his eyes. He had the strange urge to give the phone back, just so he doesn’t have to do all this.

“Oh Anthony, do you truly think this is wise?”

“Absolutely not! But since when were 17 year olds the epitome of wisdom?” He laughed out, Aziraphale hugged himself closer, his anxiety of possibly sinning already making his stomach churn. Anthony spotted this, and brought himself closer and lowered his volume.

“Look, angel, you only need to try it once and that is it. You don’t need to do it ever again. And if there’s something you really don’t want to do, I won't make you do it, okay?” Aziraphale looked up, to find Anthony face to face. He closed his eyes, just imagining being… normal. A normal teenager committing a bad decision but he’ll look back fondly on. He opened his eyes slowly, to find Anthony still there. Slowly, he started shaking his head up and down - an acceptance. Anthony’s smile returned and Aziraphale couldn’t help but return his own.

“Okay, there we go!” Anthony stood back up and sighed in content. “You teach me how to be a good student and I teach you how to be a good teenager, okay,” He stuck out his hands and before he could think twice, Aziraphale shook it. He put his new phone in his pocket, the biggest smile on his face as he looked back at Anthony, who was supporting his own smirk.

“Thank you so much, Anthony. Truly, this might be the nicest thing anyone has done for me,” Before Anthony could complain about his word choice, Aziraphale slung his arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly.

He felt Anthony tense up, and his mind started racing about how awkward he’s made things but before it could continue, he had wrapped his arms around his sides and was pulling him in closer than before, burrowing his head between Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale closed his eyes and smiled, breathing in his cologne and the faint smell of cigarettes. It seemed neither wanted to let go, but at last, Aziraphale loosened his grip and broke them apart. They stared into each other, still holding on to the other.

Aziraphale dropped his hands and placed them in his coat pocket. He smiled and said:

“Thank you, Anthony,” Anthony shrugged.

“No problem, angel,” And with that, Aziraphale turned around and headed back home, now with a pocket full of secrets and the smell of cologne.

Crowley watched him go, turned around to give him one last wave goodbye. Crowley stood rooted in spot as he waved back and waited until Prince was out of sight. Once he was gone from view, Crowley started making his way to his car, thinking over the hug.

He had felt just like he looked. Warm, plush and real - it was intoxicating, in the way that now that he had a taste of heaven, he never wanted to go back to hell.

Anthony Crowley stopped in the middle of the street on a windy September day as the crushing realisation made its way known.

Anthony Crowley was falling in love with Aziraphale Prince.

Anthony Crowley can not, under any circumstances, fall in love with Aziraphale Prince

Anthony Crowley was totally and completely fucked .

Chapter Text

Things were… fine with them. After Crowley’s realisation - well, Crowley wouldn’t actually call it a realisation. He was still very much in the denial phase - life had moved on as always, where Prince and him would meet each other’s eyes across the hall, and they would use their free periods as another hour of tutoring if Crowley showed up at all. Then, after school, they would sit at their table and would proceed with the tutoring. Except now, Prince would show Crowley a new thing he discovered he could do with his phone. And Crowley would smile and look at him while he rambled on excitedly as if he was a star between asteroids - a ray of sunshine on a cold October day.

When Crowley had gotten home the day he gave Prince the phone, he wanted nothing to do apart from throw himself onto his bed and scream into the void. You know, casual teenager things. Only he had forgotten he’d pre sent a text to Prince’s phone and he had responded with an absurd and ridiculous amount of emojis that were so him , he couldn’t help smiling down at his phone, even though he wanted very much to launch it across the room. It had gotten to a point where his father had commented on it as he kept texting him despite only seeing him a few hours ago at dinner time. 

Initially, the responses from Prince were distant and short, which Crowley later found out was due to Prince’s fear his father may walk in unannounced and find his phone. He had to calm him down in person the next day, and it was only until now that he had finally gotten comfortable pulling out his phone without checking if other angels were around.

The days, while still long, had definitely gotten shorter than they used to be at the beginning of September and their unlikely friendship grew despite neither of them wanting to admit it. Therefore, while his curfew hadn’t changed, Prince told him his father wanted him back earlier, before it got too dark outside. And so, their session, which used to last 2 hours, was cut back to 1 hour 15, sometimes even 1 hour. 

It was on one of these sessions, where Prince had started packing up earlier than Crowley would’ve liked, where Crowley got the idea.

“What about the weekend?” Prince turned to face him, already making for the exit.

“What?”

“I know you have to go earlier ‘cus of your father and your curfew blah blah blah,” Crowley started, standing up to meet Prince’s level “But what if we meet up on the weekend? What’s your curfew,” Prince looked away, and Crowley could tell his anxiety was rising as blood rushed to cheeks.

“Well, I can’t Sunday. We’ve got morning chapel and evening Mass. Besides, My father would forbid any type of work he didn’t approve of on the Sabbath,” Prince admitted, shrugging his shoulders in acceptance. Crowley pursed his lips in annoyance. It seemed like Prince was too close to the situation to fully grasp just how controlling his father was. But that was for another day, where he didn’t have such a limited time limit.

“Okay. What about Saturday? What’s your curfew then?” Prince paused, pursing his lips in thought.

“I… I guess nothing,” Crowley began to grin “Because I cannot go out on Saturday,” Crowley’s eyebrows shot up and his jaw dropped.

“You what?” Prince noticed his apparent shock, which only heightened his confusion.

“Well, I have to get my father’s approval to go out. Besides, it’s fine, it’s not like I’ve got any friends to go out with,” He stated, a pitiful smile on his friends. Crowley felt his indignation rise. 

“Well, that’s not true. You’ve got me!” He threw his arm around Prince’s shoulders and walked him out of the library “And from now on, angel, you go out every weekend to be a normal teenager. Which is my first lesson in paying back the phone!” Prince groaned, now dragging his feet to create some resistance. 

“Oh, really Anthony. I thought you had forgotten about this,” Prince shut his eyes in despair while Crowley chuckled at his pain.

“Keep dreaming, angel. Now, a classic teenager's behaviour in order to live life to the fullest is, drum rolls please!” He detached himself from Prince’s side to stand in front of him, awaiting for the chorus. It never came, as Prince just stood with his arms wrapped around him “You’re no fun. A classic teenager's behaviour is lying to your parents ,” Prince’s face turned pale and his eyebrows creased upwards, creating this image of a kicked puppy.

“Oh come on, angel. That is the calmest activity I have planned up my sleeve. It’s natural, everybody does it and the stars don’t come crashing down and the seas don't turn into buub- bul- fish stew, anyways. MY POINT IS -“ Crowley brought the conversation back on topics as he felt Prince’s attention slip. “You’ve gotta do it, angel,” Crowley concluded and Prince refused to meet his eyes, wrapping his coat tighter across himself. Just when Crowley was about to relinquish control, Prince spoke up.

“Actually, I’ve already…lied to my parents,” He muttered out like a meek lamb. For the second time that afternoon, Crowley’s jaw dropped, but in awe and pride rather than disbelief.

“You what!? You dirty angel! When? How?” Crowley laughed out, forcing Prince to meet his guarded gaze.

“Well, do you remember that argument we had at the beginning of September? When I told you to find a new tutor?” Crowley nodded, unsure but excited for where this was heading “So, technically, on paper. Officially, I mean, I’m… not your tutor,” Prince fiddled with his fingers, looking down and not looking at Crowley’s face.

“Um, what?” He nearly yelled in outrage. Prince dropped his hands and began to explain himself.

“Oh please don’t be mad! I had told my father the day before and he said I couldn’t possibly tutor you, considering you’re well, a Crowley. I was headed for the office that day either way and your behaviour justified it a little bit and I didn’t think you’d apologise so I withdrew my name from your tutoring and.. yeah,” Crowley kept staring at him in shock, awe and disbelief. In reality, he was feeling so much his poor brain went into overdrive.

“Is that why Shadewell has been giving me the side eye for the past month?” Prince nodded, and Crowley dragged his hand across his face. “I was so confused. I was getting better results and yet he was still giving me attitude,”

“And that way, in case my father calls to check, they can confirm I’m not technically signed up to tutor you,” Prince finished, staring at him with anxiety. He suddenly started laughing incredulously as Prince watched on with his stomach tightening in concern

“Anthony? Are you alright?” It seemed to break him from his trance, as he stopped, finally wrapping his head around the situation.

“So, what have you told your father? I doubt he hasn’t noticed you come home nearly 3 hours after school has ended when you live a 45 minute walk away?” Prince went back to fiddling with his hands.

“Well, I told him I was tutoring, just not you! I said I go to the library and help multiple people in different year groups rather than one specific person,” Crowley shook his head with a prideful smirk on his face.

“That’s amazing. Fuck, angel, you’re amazing,” Prince’s eyes widened at the compliment Crowley immediately regretted learning the English language in the first place. What was he doing? Complimenting Aziraphale Prince! On accident! He had to remind himself that the only reason he was even talking to him in the first place was to get some blackmail on him so his father could win. That's it. And the only way to do that and prove to himself he doesn't actually like Prince is to record every corruption and sin he manages to make Prince commit. Crowley steeled himself as he grabbed Prince’s phone from his pocket, ignoring his yelp of surprise.

He thanked the Lord that he hadn’t installed a password yet, considering no one but him knew of the phone’s existence and opened the camera app. He held the phone up high and pressed play:

“It is the 10th of October and Prince has officially become a sinner,” In the background, Prince’s eyes widened the size of sauce pans and made a grab for the phone.

“Anthony! What are you doing!?” Crowley responded by stretching his arm higher, making Prince uselessly jump for the phone.

“Come on, angel! I know damn well that you ain’t ever doing what I make you do ever again in your life. We need to document to proof you aren’t dreadfully dull,”  Prince stomped jumping, but stared directly into Crowley.

“Oh, must you make it that big of a deal? What if someone heard you?” Crowley faltered for a second, but still held the phone out of reach.

“Look, angel. If you let me document the lessons, I won’t make it that big a deal,” Prince sighed, looking for any signs of falsity.

“Promise?” He mumbled out, looking at him through his lashes. Crowley gulped and smacked a hand over his heart.

“I promise,” He pouted his lips, doing his best puppy eyes despite the fact he couldn’t see them through his dark shades. Prince gestured, a silent ‘go on then’. Crowley grinned and pointed the camera back to them.

“Obviously, this means that Tadfield’s precious little church boy is destined for hell,” He felt the smack on his arm by the other boy.

“Anthony! You just promised!” Crowley cackled and looked down at Prince.

“Oh, angel. I’m a demon. I lied,” He flashed him one of his side grins and went back to talking to the camera.

“Aziraphale Prince here, Daddy’s precious angel, has lied to him. The best part is that he did it before I told him to! He’s a natural delinquent!” At this point, he had re slung his arm around him and brought the camera in front of his face. “Can’t you see it, angel. Just you and I, in hell for all eternity ,” He finished with a piercing screech in his ear, which brought the smallest of smiles to his face. 

“You and me, in this scenario, my dear. Are we done now?” He tugged the phone from Crowley’s hand, finishing the video and pocketing his phone.

“Not quite, angel,” Prince looked back up at him, a look of dread hanging over his face.

“What now?”

“That lie you came up with was well and good. But we’re going to need another one to allow you to leave that prison you call a home,” Prince deadpanned, tilting his head in a very condescending manner that Crowley didn’t appreciate.

“First of all, my home is not a prison. It is very lovely, thank you very much,” Crowley rolled his eyes at his defensive nature, not that Prince noticed behind the glasses, “Secondly, I can’t think of anything,” At this Crowley’s grin grew, until it had spread along his face along with Prince’s anxiety at the sight of it.

“Don’t worry, angel. Leave that to me,”

Aziraphale turned his food over on his plate, his face down but his heart beating out of his chest. He was sure that his parents could hear it, and that they would discover what he was doing. He went over Anthony's lines in his head, ensuring they were cemented in his mind. He was brought out of his head by a gentle touch on his hand. Dorothy Prince, his mother, looked at him, a comforting smile on her face.

“Aziraphale, dear, is everything alright?”

Similarly, on the opposite side of town, Aleistar Crowley looked at his son who was turning in his seat, unable to find a spot comfortable enough.

“You okay?”

“Oh yes, I'm fine, mother,” Aziraphale pulled his hand from her hold, looking over to his father, who hadn’t noticed his inner turmoil. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something,”

“What is it?” Both fathers said, unbeknownst to the other.

“I’m going out Saturday. With a friend.” Crowley told him, sitting up straighter than before. His father cocked his head.

“A friend? Who is it?”

“Well, you know how I do tutoring sessions everyday after school?” His father nodded, his face not betraying his emotions. “Well there’s this one boy-“

“There’s this girl-“

“His name is Newton Pulsifer-“

“Her name is Anathema Device. She’s been tutoring me for the past month or so,” Crowley explained, hoping that Prince was doing alright on his part.

“And he needs some extra help. We decided some one-on-one tutoring would help him more so he asked if I can meet up with him this weekend for a private session,”

“Pulsifer? Do his parents go to church?” Aziraphale paused, gathering all his bravery before barely shaking his head.

“She go to church?” Crowley shook his head.

“Not often, he said they go on major holidays. Christmas, Easter y’know?”

“Nah, she and her aunt, Agnes are more into that spiritual witchy stuff. I think she’s still mad about the witch trials that happened in the 1600s,”

“Y’know? Since when do you abbreviate one syllable words?” Aziraphale widened his eyes at his fathers words, but swallowed down his response.

“I’m sorry, father. I was just wondering if I could go out on Saturdays, so I can help him,” His father looked at him and looked back at his plate.

“Sure, Anthony. Just don’t do anything stupid like you do with your other friends,”

“My answer is no, Aziraphale. You know that you are not allowed out of the house on the weekends. We have church and you must keep the Sabbath holy. My word is final,” Aziraphale dropped his cutlery in shock. It was over, they had thought it perfect considering the two weren’t loud supporters of either of their fathers and yet he had said no. He began to shrink in his seat, getting ready to disappoint Anthony.

“Come on John, he’s a good boy. He’s finally got someone to call his friend and he’s helping him. 

“My answer is no, Dolly. Do not argue with me in front of him,” He stopped his motion of cutting his steak, looking up at her with a glare. The threat of his actions laid over his words

“Don’t you think it’s about time our boy got out of the house instead of being stuck in his room with his nose in a book?”

“Dorothy ,”

“Aziraphale, dear, I think it’s wonderful that you want to go out. I say it’s okay. You may go,” She grabbed his arm and stroked it soothingly. Aziraphale looked at her with wide eyes filled with gratitude. He whipped his head around as his father’s cutlery smashed against his plate. His fists were clenched on the table and his eyes were filled with wrath. He stood quickly, causing the chair to fall to the floor with a crash! . He walked to the two at the table and grabbed his mother’s forearm and brought her closer to him.

“My office. Now ,” Aziraphale watched as his mother trembled under him but refused to break eye contact. He threw her down and walked away without looking back to see if she was following. His mother’s breath trembled and he watched her squeeze her eyes, refusing the tears to fall.

“Mother…”

“It’s alright, dear. Go up to your room,” She smiled and caressed his face. His heart clenched at the sight of her, knowing the next time he’ll see her, she’ll look worse.

“DOLLY! ” His father’s roar shook the house and his mother shut her eyes at the sound.

“Go. Go now, dear,” She pulled him up from his seat and grazed his forehead with her lips. Without faltering, she turned and made her way up the stairs.

“Cheers, thanks dad!” Crowley pushed himself away from the table and made his way the the top floor to his bedroom

You: he said yes! text me asap.

You: asap means ‘as soon as possible’ btw

You: btw means ‘by the way’

He launched himself on the bed, his phone still open on the app. He was used to the angel not responding quickly, as he always kept his phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ so that his father didn't hear the notification sounds and knew he was either reading, or was doing the routine of checking what his father was doing before going back upstairs to text him back. After a couple minutes, when Crowley decided to start scrolling, he got the notification he had responded.

The Angel: Thank you for the clarification, my dear.❤️👍👏🗣️🕺✨🎉🎊🥳

The Angel: I am allowed to go out on Saturdays with you.

You: holy shit! that’s great! he said yes then????

Crowley rose from his bed at the news. The angel didn’t respond at first, and when he was starting to get worried, Prince started texting.

The Angel: He did.

You: lets goo. alr on saturday, go to the bus stop and ill pick u up

The Angel: ?

You: alr means ‘alright’ angel.

Aziraphale went to the notes app, and added ‘alr’ to the ever growing list he had since he and Anthony started texting. He turned his phone off and put it in the bottom of his drawer. Just then, his mother walked in and Aziraphale sucked in a breath. A bruise was forming on her check and neck, and her lip had the smallest of splits in it. He got on his knees on the bed, holding her hands near him.

“Mother…”

“It’s alright, my dear. Nothing I haven’t experienced before, right?” She looked down on him, giving her best supportive smile. She ran her fingers through his hair, stroking it to calm him down.

“This is all my fault. If I hadn’t asked-“

“No, Aziraphale-“

“I won’t go! I’ll stay here with you,”

“Then that would mean this is all for nothing,” Aziraphale stopped and looked at his mother, tears forming in his eyes. She crouched down to his level and wiped his tears.

“Go enjoy your youth. It’s only here for a couple of years and then it’s gone forever,” His mind went to Anthony, who was so proud of him when he told him that he had lied to his parents once before.

“Besides, this Newton fellow may be a nice change of pace for you. And who knows? You may convince him to come to church sometimes!” Aziraphale immediately felt guilty for lying. If he told them the truth, his mother may not be supporting a scarf for the next few weeks. She obviously noticed his conflict, but thankfully decided not to push it further. She kissed him lightly on the forehead.

“Goodnight, my miracle,” She whispered against his forehead. She stood up and walked to the door, turning off the light as she looked back one last time. He stared at that door for a while, his mind racing before closing his eyes and clasping his hands

Lord, I know that I am a sinner. Please forgive me for causing my mother harm due to my actions, and please guide me to become more like you. Please help me to watch my words and actions, and guard me against future mistakes and errors. Amen.

He didn’t feel that better, not like the first time he had recited that prayer when he had lied that fateful September day. He found himself reciting the same prayer more often than he used to, feeling less guilty every time. He opened his drawer and fished his phone, determined to tell Anthony he took it all back.

When Anthony’s face met his, Aziraphale paused. Despite his brain telling him it was weird he still had the original wallpaper, despite Anthony telling him to change it, his heart had whispered a ‘no’ and so it remained. He searched for the messaging application and clicked it open. He found that Anthony had sent him some more messages.

my best friend in the whole wide world (again, unchanged from since Anthony had given him the phone) : ur one step closer to becoming ur own person

my best friend in the whole wide world: im proud of u angel

my best friend in the whole wide world: gn 

my best friend in the whole wide world: gn means ‘goodnight’

Aziraphale sighed, clicking off his phone and shutting his eyes, his mother’s face imprinted in his mind.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale’s mind was whirling. He had woken up around 20 minutes ago, and he hadn’t moved from his spot in bed. Instead, he spent those 20 minutes debating whether he should call Anthony and call the whole thing off or if he should just face the music and go out for the very first time without his parent’s knowledge.

He folded his hands over him as he stared up to the ceiling, biting his lip in thought. On one hand, he was absolutely terrified. This was the first time he had gone anywhere without his parents. Funnily enough, he didn’t have many friends growing up, staying at home while his siblings got to go whenever his father permitted. He had some sleepovers growing up, his father’s desperate attempt to make him as well liked as Gabriel, but they were always at his home, and no second play dates were made. And what would happen if someone recognised him? Or worse, saw him with a Crowley? They were probably the most famous people in this town, right after their fathers. Besides, he knew that he wasn’t necessarily the most inconspicuous person in Tadfield, with bright white hair at the ripe age of 17 and willingly spending his time at church or reading books. As well as Anthony, with his flaming hair and dark glasses and tight jeans-

On the other hand, however, scolding his mind as it started to drift off, this was the first taste of freedom . He had always followed his father’s rule, hoping not to get squished under his thumb and while a door may not have opened yet, a window right beside it had, and Aziraphale realised he hadn’t had a breath of fresh air in 17 years. 

And as enticing as that was, he couldn’t help but feel as if it was a low hanging apple in a garden, with a serpent within the tree’s branches, speaking softly in his ear as it led him to his fall. Aziraphale was so sure before that when faced with the prospect of sin, he would turn his back and face the Lord to protect him. But here he was, apple in sight, in reach and he shuddered to think that his hand twitches by his side. All the while the serpent still hung on the branches, tempting him with false reassurances.

Hadn’t his father warned him about this? How must you be constantly vigilant as Satan’s workers try to stray you from the Lord? How must you focus on the holy path in front of you to reach eternal paradise? But his father had never warned him about just how enticing the serpent would be, how human, how convincing. 

Anthony. The only reason he was in this pickle in the first place. A person who he’d thought he’d never interact with, a person too dangerous, too unattainable, too different. A concept or idea rather than a human being who hated the restrictive rules of the school uniform and who got really defensive when you asked about his glasses and who stuck his tongue out when he was concentrating on something.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and dragged his hand across his face. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard, was it? Being normal. A rueful chuckle escaped him. Aziraphale Prince was far from normal. The worst part is he had accepted it. He didn’t bother trying to find multiple arguments, different beliefs that would suggest a different theory. Instead, he believed the first thing that was said to him. 

Aziraphale slammed his hands by his sides. No, today was going to be different. He is going to think for himself, by himself, no matter what. He tore his sheets away and stood up and walked to the closet. That’s where he encountered his first problem. What is he going to wear?

He started out by picking his Sunday best, considering those were the clothes he wore most often, then paused. He’s not going to church, he’s going out with Anthony. What if he started to say something about what he wore? His face flushed at the sudden realisation. Why would he care about what Anthony said? Unhelpful, his brain decided to gift him an extremely long list of reasons why.

He was his friend -  and although he hated to admit it - his only friend, which made him his best friend. He had never seen Aziraphale out of uniform, what if he didn’t like his clothes. He was so much cooler than Aziraphale, he could bet that his clothes were going to be better and make him look like a fool.

Panic struck him and before he realised it, his entire wardrobe was on the floor. No matter what he picked out, it didn’t look good enough for him. Which meant that Aziraphale spent the next 15 minutes surrounded by a sea of his clothes. He had to be honest, this was looking like a sign from the Lord convincing him not to go.

No. Aziraphale shook his head, wiping away his worries. He had decided to think for himself and he wasn’t letting anything break his resolution. Anthony should know him by now and shouldn’t be surprised at the way he dressed. Resolved, he took his original choice of clothing from where they were laid out and put it on. A button up, a sweater and a pair of trousers

He made his way downstairs to find his mother in the kitchen cleaning. She was wearing a scarf, despite the fact they were inside and it was quite warm and her mark had disappeared under layers of makeup. She turned to him and smiled, looking up from the washing.

“Good morning, Aziraphale,” She said, drying her hands on a nearby towel.

“Good morning. Do you feel better,” He replied. She said nothing, only nodding her head. He looked around and noticed his father missing. His stomach churned as he looked around the empty dining room. “Where’s father? I wanted to say goodbye-“

“I think it’s best if you are on your way, dear,” His mother cut in. He stopped and looked at her. She fiddled with the towel between her fingers.

“He’s in his office, but he’s in one of his moods. Best if we leave him alone for a while, don’t you think?” She said, he gulped and nodded, not trusting his voice to not quiver. She approached him and hugged him, resting her chin on his head. “Have fun, my miracle,” She grabbed both sides of his face and smiled, which he happily returned. He walked out of the kitchen, grabbing his keys, his coat and his school bag with his tutoring stuff in it and looked behind him. His mother stood out in the hallway, watching him leave, a small tear running down her face. 

He waved and she waved back and without a word, Aziraphale Prince left the house on his own for the very first time.

From the moment Crowley was awake, he despised Prince. Why on God’s green earth had he decided to wake up so early? Sure, it was 9am but for Crowley, it may as well have been the middle of the night. He bashed the snooze button for what seemed to be the 50th time that morning. Groggily, he sat up in his bed and wiped the sleep from his eyes. He looked at the time and realised he had 20 minutes to get up, washed, changed and out to pick up Prince, which he still had no idea where. He sauntered vaguely down from the bed - definitely didn’t fall - and looked around his chaotic living area. Normally, he wouldn’t give two shits what he would wear but this is Prince we’re talking about. He’s probably gonna turn up in a bloody suit and tie.

He looked around, tossing unnecessary obstacles - other clothes on the floor - out of the way before finding a clean turtle neck, which he can pair up with his favourite leather jacket, a pair of jeans he should’ve thrown out ages ago and a chain. He looked himself in the mirror and ‘styled’ his hair by running his hand through it. He grabbed his glasses left on the nightstand and ran out of the door, nearly forgetting his rucksack and only waving in his father’s direction to say goodbye.

Once seated in his car, he started driving and asked Siri to call Prince. Once he realised she was being a stupid prick, he fished his phone from his pocket and called him himself. His soft voice came out of his car’s speakers.

“Anthony?”

“Yep, yep hi. It’s me. Where exactly am I picking you up?”

“I don’t know. Where are you now?”

“I’m just heading for your house-“

“NO! You can’t just show up in front of my house! You’re a Crowley! What if my father sees?” Crowley sucked in a breath. He always did this, called him a Crowley as if it was an insult, as if it was a bad thing.

“Alright then, Prince. Where should I go then,” Silence on the other end of the line and Crowley got the feeling he knew how he was feeling.

“Are you mad at me, Anthony?” His voice whispered out and he could just picture his face. He sighed and shook his head.

“No, angel. I’m not,” He heard him sigh in relief before he spoke up again.

“There’s a bus stop on my street that nobody uses. If you stop there I’ll be waiting for you,” Crowley nodded and smacked his lips.

“Yeah, alright, angel see you then. Ciao,” The line went dead and Crowley sped off.

Aziraphale bundled himself tighter in his coat, looking around for any sign of Anthony. He wasn’t lying when he said this bus stop was abandoned but that didn’t stop him from checking if anyone was walking this way who might tell his father where he’d been. He stopped his pacing and sat down just waiting for Anthony to appear.

It seemed like his prayers were answered as Anthony appeared drifting out of the corner at speeds he didn’t think imaginable in this little village. The car skidded to a halt in front of him as the window rolled down, revealing Anthony in the driver's seat. If Aziraphale thought he looked cool in his uniform, he was completely unprepared for him in his own clothes. The turtleneck, which made him look even cooler even though he was covering up and a loose chain around his neck which made an inexplicable bead of sweat run down his back.

“Woah, angel. Y’know we ain’t going to church, right?” Suddenly, all of Aziraphale’s anxieties were back.

“You don’t like it?” Anthony’s eyes widened, or at least his eyebrows shot above his lenses.

“NO! No! I didn’t say that. I’ll get used to it. It’s very you,” He turned to face the front and only turned back to face him when he realised Aziraphale wasn’t moving. “It’s a good thing angel, don’t worry. Now get in,” Aziraphale let out a little sigh before opening the car door and getting in.

“Good luck,” Aziraphale paused, unsure what he was refusing to.

“Good luck? Whatever do I need luck for?”

“Just warning ya. People said you need luck to make it out alive whenever you step foot in my car,” And with that leaving Aziraphale about ten times more anxious than he was before, Anthony stepped on the gas and proceeded to show Aziraphale why.

"Hold on! Oh, Anthony YOU'RE GOING TO FAST FOR ME!"

“GET OUT OF THE ROAD!” Aziraphale grabbed onto the hand hold for dear life as Anthony proceeded to swerve in and out of the street.

“You can’t drive at 90 mph down Oxford street! You’ll get us killed!” He said, pointing at the speedometer. Aziraphale jostled in his seat as Anthony made a sharp turn. He turned, taking his eyes off the road and hand of the wheel to wag his finger at him.

“Au contraire, angel. I am proving that it is perfectly possible to drive at 90 mph down Oxford Street,”

“WATCH OUT FOR THAT PEDESTRIAN!” Another sharp turn as Anthony tries not to kill anyone today .

“She’s on the street. She knows the risk she’s taking!” Again he turned to face him and lifted his hands off of the wheel.

“Watch the road! Watch the road!” With a shrug, Anthony faced back to the street and Aziraphale tensed in his seat, holding on for dear life. Anthony seemed to notice this and slowed down, if only by 5 mph. Aziraphale sighed, hoping to release some anxiety - it didn’t - and spotted two CDs out of the corner of his eye.

“Music! How about we play some music,” He fished it out and looked at the covers, recognising nothing from it “What’s a velvet underground,” Crowley tsked from the side.

“You wouldn’t like it,” Aziraphale nodded in understanding.

“Ah. Bebop,” Anthony skidded to halt - which for him was still 50 mph but still a noticeable change.

“Bebop! Y’know angel, if you were to line up every person in the world , no one would use the word bebop to describe The Velvet Underground” Aziraphale sneered, which wasn’t very threatening but still got the message across. Now that they had stopped, he had a chance to look at his surroundings, only to very quickly they weren’t anywhere near the library, but were heading to the other side of town.

“Anthony, this isn’t the way to the library,” Anthony chuckled, not turning to look at him.

“Ho, Ho! If you think I am spending 6 out of 7 days of my week in a library then you clearly don’t know me,” He looked at Aziraphale and flashed a grin at his growingly more terrified face.

“But what if someone sees us? What if someone sees me? In this part of town! And if they tell my father then my mother-”

“Relax angel! The place we’re going is chill. I know the owner’s daughter and she ain’t gonna tell anyone, alright?” He took his eyes from the road to look at Aziraphale. He took a deep breath in and nodded slightly.

They kept driving in silence, Anthony letting Aziraphale watch out the window at a part of town he had never seen, despite him living here his entire life. Finally, the car stopped entirely, and Aziraphale let out a sigh.

“I think it’s official. You go too fast for me,” Anthony snickered, not meeting his gaze.

“C’mon, angel,” He opened his door and stepped out.

He had parked the car in front of a small coffee shop, its name ‘ Give Me Coffee, Or Give Me Death’ painted atop its door. Aziraphale and Anthony stood side by side, Anthony watching Aziraphale read the sign and laugh inwardly as his face contorted the more he read.

“That’s a… nice name,” Anthony chuckled at Aziraphale’s need to be nice all the time and headed inside.

The temperature raised, creating a welcomed warmth from the cool October air. Aziraphale looked around, seeing if anyone had recognised him yet. However, it appeared people were more interested in their phones or their conversations to notice the strange pair that had walked in. Aziraphale followed Anthony towards a separate area, where they had closed off booths so that you couldn’t really see the people sitting at that table unless you approached it yourself. They chose the one nearest to the wall, with only a small light casting a pale yellow wash over it.

As they sat down, a tall and dark girl wearing an apron approached their table. Her curly hair was tightly formed into long locs that she held up in a half up half down look. She was looking at her notepad, a pencil scurrying between her fingers before looking up and recognising who was sitting there. Her and Anthony shared a smile and Aziraphale sensed a small pang of… something growing inside him.

“My, my. Anthony J Crowley, in my coffee house. Your fame precedes you,” Anthony scoffed at her formality as Aziraphale furrowed his brows.

“Shut up, Nina. No need to treat me like I’m the fucking Queen of England,” She laughed and shoved his shoulder.

“Yes, because you are not followed by your long line of retinues. Instead, you are joined by… holy shit,” Her face dropped and Aziraphale got the burning feeling of being judged and watched. He straightened up and stroked his clothes down, making himself look presentable. He lifted his hand as he introduced himself.

“Hello, I’m-”

“Aziraphale Prince,” She finished, he slowly lowered his hand and nodded to confirm her statement.

“That’s right. And you are… Nina?” She nodded, her jaw still hanging slightly open.

“I have got to say, I never would’ve expected angels around this part of town, let alone your family ,” She crossed her arms and leaned back. Aziraphale gulped, hoping to suppress his anxieties best he could.

“Oh, well you know. On a normal day, I would never frequent here. Not really my scene. Not that there’s anything wrong with this scene, it’s quite lovely. Perfectly tickety-boo!” At their confused expressions, he immediately regretted saying anything “Not tickety-boo! I mean not that it’s not tickety-boo but in fact cool and-and hip and -  oh I’m just messing this up, aren’t I?” Both demons on the other side nodded with a pitiful expression.

“Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry. I’m a bit nervous,” Nina huffed out a small laugh.

“You don’t say?” She leaned on Anthony’s chair, inspecting him like he was some odd creature.

“Nina, what do you sell that calms people down?” He asked. She let out a puff of air, looking off into the distance.

“Eccles cakes?” She looked back at him. He looked at Anthony, who gave the smallest twitch of a nod. Resolved he turned back to face her.

“Some eccles cakes please,” He said, a smile plastered on his face. She nodded and wrote it down on her notepad.

“And you? Your usual?” Anthony nodded, holding a thumbs up as he did. “Some eccles cakes and 6 shots of espresso with nothing else in a large cup coming up,” She looked at the pair as she walked away.

“Oh, that helps calm you down?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley smiled and shook his head.

“Not at all,” Aziraphale gulped, looking away in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry I embarrassed you in front of your…” He trailed off, hoping Anthony would fill in the blanks himself. Anthony immediately sat up and started denying.

“Oh, no no no no no no no no. Nina is not my girlfriend. I think she’d rather set herself on fire,” He explained and Aziraphale failed to explain why that took a weight off his chest.

“Oh, OH! Right then. Sorry for the assumption,” Anthony just nodded and started taking his notebook and textbook. Aziraphale watched him, unable to shake the interaction from his head until he couldn’t contain it anymore.

“What’s the ‘J’ stand for?” Anthony looked up, confusion evident on his face.

“What?”

“The ‘J’? Nina said it when she first came over,” Anthony avoided his gaze, looking down at his hands.

“Ngk- It’s-it’s just a J to be honest,” Aziraphale nodded, feeling like he wasn’t letting up on the whole truth but deciding to drop it. He flipped to their current Maths topic and started their routine. It was a while later, when he had given Anthony one of his sheets to do when they encountered a problem.

Aziraphale was doing his own English work, a bit behind due to spending most of his evenings reviewing old topics, when he noticed Anthony bring the paper closer to him to read the questions. The light had been a problem, casting odd shadows and not being bright enough to clearly read the textbook in front of him, and with sunglasses, Aziraphale imagined it would be very hard to read indeed.

“Anthony, dear,” He looked up, as if he had forgotten other people could see him. “I know you won’t like this suggestion but maybe it’s the case to… take the glasses off?” He paused, unable to move. While it was better than last time he had told him to take his glasses, which resulted in a flurry of profanities escaping his mouth and him running off it still read as ‘uncomfortable. Do not ask me this question again’. 

“Or, I could just read you the question, if you prefer? I don’t mind-”

“No, you’re right I should take them off,” Aziraphale paused. He hadn’t actually thought he would take them off. The glasses were just part of who he was. It was like Anthony had just accepted shaving his hair right then and there. 

Of course Aziraphale had spent many nights wondering about Anthony’s mysterious eyes, locked away behind the dark bars of his glasses. Sometimes they would be the most luxurious brown, that twinkled and creased with his laughter then shifted into green eyes that transported him into other worlds. They were never fixed, much like Anthony himself, always fluid in his appearance and rapport with others.

“It’s just- Don’t freak out, okay?” Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows. Why would he freak out? They were part of Anthony, nothing he could do or be could truly terrify him. He shook his head up and down, not relying on his voice to be stable. Tentatively, Anthony lifted his hand slowly to his face and dragged the lenses away. His eyes were closed, but he was facing down, so Aziraphale couldn’t see. Cautiously, he blinked them open, adjusting them to the light and looked up to face him. Aziraphale’s breath was sucked in with a gasp.

“Hideous, aren’t they?” They were nothing like Aziraphale had imagined. He was such a fool to believe Anthony, in all his uniqueness and splendour could have such a common eye colour like brown and never could his wildest imaginations go further than green. Instead, his eyes were an impossible shade of amber, as if the sun’s rays spent their time there. And his pupils were no normal pupils they were-

“It’s called Schmid-Fraccaro syndrome,” He answered in his silence. “It’s when there’s a problem with the 22nd chromosome, which caused a split in the iris. It’s more commonly called Cat Eye Syndrome, ‘cus it looks similar to a cat’s eye, but I always thought it looked like a-”

“Snake’s,” Aziraphale finished, unable to look away. He just nodded and averted his gaze.

“Yeah, not exactly the thing you’d want to be parading around when they say that your dad’s a criminal or associated with fucking Satan,” He admitted, feeling ten times more naked than he normally does.

“I can understand that,” Anthony raised his eyebrows and huffed out a sigh, unable to meet his eye.

“Yeah, plus the unnatural amount of lipochrome and little melanin, really set me up to be a monstrous sight,” He started picking at his nails. Without thinking, Aziraphale scooted to be on the same side of the booth as Anthony and grabbed his hands with one and cupped his face with the other.

“You are not a monstrous sight. You might just be the most beautiful being in this world,” Anthony’s jaw loosened as he stared into Aziraphale’s blue eyes. “And you’re eyes aren’t hideous, they are simply breathtaking ,” Crowley’s heart pulsed in his chest so fast and so loud it’s a fucking wonder no one had called the bomb squad yet.

Never in his entire life had anyone called him beautiful before. Yes, he’s had the occasional wolf whistle or some lady telling him he’s hot before politely telling her he wasn’t interested in women like that. But never beautiful, let alone breathtaking. And he looked so sincere and holy and pure. His hand was gliding across his cheek bones and it was so soft and how the hell can anyone be that soft. It was like God had made him perfectly for him to ruin and ravish as he pleased and he wanted nothing more than to push forward and-

“Ah-hem,” The two boys broke apart as Nina stood at their table with their order in both her hands. “Your eccles cakes and espresso?” They looked at eachother, and it was like a switch flipped on in Aziraphale’s mind and he realised what he had been doing.

“Oh, yeah, yes. Thank you. Excuse me, I need to go to the restroom,” And without looking backwards, he headed in the direction of the bathroom.

Once there, he locked himself in a stall and threaded his hands through his stall, trying to calm his racing heart. What was he thinking? Clearly he wasn’t because what was he doing? At first, he just wanted to comfort a friend who was feeling self conscious and vulnerable, and instead he did … that! Whatever that was, it certainly wasn’t innocent, wasn’t Christian of him. His breath quickened as he felt himself stumble against the stall’s wall. Is this why his father hadn’t told him how enticing the serpent was? Because if he knew, he'd go with him?

No. There is no way this is happening. Anthony is a friend - NO, He was a Crowley. He was his hereditary enemy for crying out loud! The only reason they are speaking is because they have too. Anthony wouldn’t even bat an eye in his direction, just like they’ve done their entire lives. The second he was done with Aziraphale, he would leave him and lead his own life, and Aziraphale would cry in anguish as he reaps the consequences of being tempted.

But as much as he would like to believe it, a small voice, that sounded oddly familiar, spoke uo. Saying he didn’t have to speak to him. After all, he had confessed that they aren’t tutoring under the school’s official program. Reminding him that he didn’t just call anybody angel within the first day of speaking to each other. And certainly not hanging with anybody he didn’t value important.

Is Aziraphale important to him? The way he had looked at him, it had set a fire in his body and it wasn’t stopping anytime soon. Now without his glasses, his eyes told so much. How his gaze deepened and his eyes hooded with want and his gaze would travel from his neck to his mouth to his-

Aziraphale plonked down on the seat, wiping his mind of any unholy thoughts whatsoever. He should not, could not, would not think about Anthony Crowley in this way. It simply wasn’t right. He hadn’t really thought about… that stuff. Sure, he reads timeless love stories, hoping and dreaming for that same adoration, but when you’re the chubby, socially awkward, heavily religious kid, no knight in shining armour comes and whisks you away.

Not that he’s dreaming for a knight, of course not, instead he should- he is dreaming about some faceless lady, who’s well liked in the community, loves to bake. Someone is snarky with him and tells him the truth as it is and wears darker clothes and drives fast like she’s got nothing and everything to live for and-

NO! Good Lord, Anthony is not his wife! He is an acquaintance, a friend! Nothing more! At this point, Aziraphale made no point in restraining his tears. What was he doing? He isn’t supposed to think that way, especially about Anthony. He felt dirty, ashamed of himself, feeling alone and helpless but watched and judged at the same time. 

It was in a dirty cubicle of a forgotten coffee house that Aziraphale Prince began to question the existence of God for the very first time.

Meanwhile, oblivious to the existential crisis happening a couple doors down, Anthony ‘Just a J, really’ Crowley was panicking. Fuck, he was half-hard in public, fuck it was really fucking obvious and fuck, the cause was Aziraphale Prince. He groaned and banged his head on the desk, hoping and praying God might be real just so he could be struck down where he was sitting.

He had gone too far. Had they done anything? No, but that didn’t mean he had scared him. The way he excused himself was evidence enough. The man was freaking out. But oh how could Crowley resist? The angel had offered himself up on a silver platter, like an innocent lamb walking into the mouth of the wolf. This was not good. And what about the bet? An ugly side of him he didn’t want to admit was feeling hopeless not because he may have possible lost his first true friend, who liked Crowley not because he was a Crowley but just because, but that he may have lost a childish, inconsequential, stupid bet with a friend he made when he was high. Thankfully, he was pulled out of his mourning as Nina sat down opposite him.

“You’ve been together long?” Crowley lifted his head just high enough so he could look in her direction without standing up.

“Who?”

“You and Aziraphale Prince,” Crowley’s eyes widened which gave him the energy to stand up.

“Oh! No, no, it’s not like that-”

“It certainly looks like that. From here at least. And I’m standing a metre away,” He said nothing, opting instead to re bang his head against the table.“Oh, so you’ve just recently hooked up?” From the table, Crowley muttered out a response. 

“NO! You-ngk we-”

“Do you have a partner then? Or finally tried to shut Shax up with a good dicking-”

“Absolutely not!”

“Is he your bit on the side?” At this Crowley rose from the table and looked at her as if she had spoken Latin to him

“He’s not my ‘bit on the side’! He’s far too pure of heart to be anybody’s ‘bit on the side’! He’s just… an angel, y’know?” Nina looked at him like he was a three legged dog left on the street, before snorting at his misery.

“If you say so. I’m just saying, it doesn’t look like you talk to each other,”

“But we talk all the time! We’ve been talking nonstop for months now. Blah blah blah blah blah. I say something brilliant, he says something unintentionally funny back. It’s great!”

“But I know you, Crowley. You never say what you’re really thinking. It’s what me and my partner needed,” He stared back at her, still deciphering her words until it hit him.

“ ‘My partner’? Nina, with who?” She chuckled, wiggling her eyebrows.

“And with that, me and my infinite wisdom depart you to your misery,” He stuck his hands out in front of him.

“Nina! Who are you shagging?” He called out after her, except she didn’t turn around. A cough came from behind him. He whipped around to find Prince standing there, looking refreshed and normal again.

“Oh, hi,” He smiled and spoke the next words very quickly.

“Do you want to go someplace else?”

Chapter Text

After paying, packing their stuff and leaving, the pair sat in Crowley’s car once again. Prince drummed his lap with his hands.

“Look at you taking the initiative, angel. One day out of the nest and you’re already flying steady,” Prince rolled his eyes at his comment, a soft smile on his lips.

“Where do you want to go?” Crowley slumped in his seat, huffing out a puff of air.

“I don’t know, angel,”

“Well, you’re the one who lives here, Anthony,” Crowley straightened up in his seat, racking his brain over places they could go.

“There’s a park, somewhere near here somewhere,” he nodded.

“Oh, is it… frequently visited?” He asked, still overly cautious about being spotted and told on to his father. Crowley bit his lip in thought before nodding slightly. At his panicked look, Crowley started to reassure him.

“But, people don’t normally go out today! It’s fine, angel,” He swallowed, clearly still nervous. Accepting it, Crowley turned the car on and sped off.

The park wasn’t far, the conversation flowed easily enough between sharp manoeuvres in order not to run anybody over. When they arrived there, Crowley wasn’t lying when no one came here today. Normally, there’d be a couple of dog walkers or a family taking a stroll. It was something he had noticed at a young age, it seemed like the whole town, or at least this part of town, went on hiatus, seeking refuge in their own homes.

The pair entered the abandoned park and started their way down a pre laid walkway along the nearby river. Ducks followed by their side, and Crowley managed to chase after them, making them flutter away while Prince yelled at him to stop from a couple metres behind him.

They eventually reached a section of the park with a couple picnic benches sprinkled around. They made their way to one of these benches and sat down. The ducks, growing more courageous, or arrogant, depending on which of the two you asked, started approaching their bench, hoping for loose scraps. Noticing this, Prince unzipped his bag open and pulled out a small pastry that had been carefully wrapped in a napkin.

“What’s that?” Crowley asked, resting his head on his hand. Prince looked up and started breaking up small pieces to feed to the ducks

“They’re my mother’s shortcrust pastries. She managed to sneak one into my bag whilst I was getting ready this morning,” He said so nonchalantly, and Crowley’s brain was filled with uncombed curls and cute pyjamas that were entirely too distracting.

“Aren’t you not supposed to feed ducks bread?” Prince paused, as a duck snapped at his fingers holding the shortcrust.

“I… I don’t know,” He said, recoiling from the ducks who had started an angry mob demanding more at his feet.

“Apparently make them bloated and shit,” Crowley replied, still watching and admiring Prince.

“Well then, if I were a duck, I would happily be bloated in order to eat my mother’s shortcrusts,” Crowley scoffed and Prince looked offended.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a shortcrust,” Prince stopped his movements, looking back at Crowley with a surprised look on his face.

“Oh, well let me tempt you-,” He paused at Crowley’s grin forming on his face that spoke ‘ You? Tempting me? ’. Prince averted his gaze “No, that’s your job,” Crowley snorted and held his hand out, waiting for a piece

Prince held it aloft, and Crowley spied it as if it had caused him personal offence. Hesitantly, he picked the piece off and nibbled it, only to devour the rest once the delicious flavour had hit his tongue.

“Holy shit, these are heavenly!” Prince snickered out a chuckle that said ‘ I told you ’. Crowley gathered himself, not wanting Prince to get too pretentious and settled into his seat.

“So what book did you bring today? It better not be Hamlet again,” Prince looked up in confusion.

“I didn’t say I brought a book,”

“You didn’t need to. You’re Aziraphale Prince. You’d bring a book to any social event. So, what is it today?” Prince tried to deny it, but before Crowley knew it, he sighed and pulled a tattered book out of his bag.

“It’s my grandmother’s copy of a Wizards of Oz ,” He said, caressing the front cover. “My grandmother loved it so much she named my mother after the protagonist, Dorothy. She used to read this to me every night,” His eyes filled with nostalgia and a sad smile came across his face. “And after yesterday-”

“What happened yesterday?” Crowley asked and he got the feeling that Prince didn’t mean to admit that much. His whole body visibly tensed and his eyes widened as his hand stopped.

“I- nothing happened. I don’t know why I said that! Everything is fine. I- I simply was… guilty! Guilty about lying to her so I guess I subconsciously picked this book,” Crowley watched him jitter in front of him and wondered how his father had bought the lie he had told yesterday. If they wanted to continue hanging out in private, Prince would need to get ten times better at lying.

“Right…” He said clicking the t. Righ-tuh. Prince refused to meet his gaze, looking back down at the book.

“And I’ve always loved this version. Holding an older edition of a book has always felt so special to me,” Crowley got the sensation he wanted to change the topic, and he let him today but refused his brain to forget.

“You want to collect old editions when you're older?” At this, Prince whipped his head up with his brightest smile and it was like the clouds had opened to heaven above and God’s light shone directly on him, and he seemingly didn’t notice how bright he shined in Crowley’s eyes.

“Oh yes! I want to open my very own bookshop. And I would fill the walls with first editions and books signed by the author. I wouldn’t sell them but I-”

“Hold on. So you want to sell a book shop but don’t want to … actually sell the books in the shop?” Prince’s light flickered, as if he hadn’t noticed the problem in his dream.

“Well, I-I would eventually sell some books. Just to stay afloat, but I’d strongly defer people from buying them on any other occasion,” Crowley snorted, shaking his head in disbelief and awe.

“Oh God, angel. You are something else,” He muttered out and Prince’s eyes softened.

“Oh, Thank-Thank you, dear,” He replied and Crowley could feel the air lingering between them, oddly familiar to the atmosphere in the coffee shop, before Prince had run away. Suddenly, The air changed as Crowley spotted a familiar group walking towards them.

“SHIT! Angel, duck!” He said as he dived under the table. Prince was left staring at the empty space where Crowley was a second ago, barely stammering out his confusion before he felt himself being pulled under.

“Anthony what’s going on-”

“SHH!” Crowley cut him off, pressing his hand against his mouth to shut him up. He watched his slimy friends scurry past the table, not bothering to question the lack of people sitting at the table despite there being a bag thrown on the table. He heard Shax’s voice screech across the entire park.

“UGH, I wish Crowley was here! It’s so boring since he stopped hanging out with us,”

“It’s not my fault he became a total bellend!”

“Yes it is, Hastur! Ever since you-” Crowley’s heart quickened, thinking Shax was about to expose him whilst he crouched uncomfortably under a table. Thankfully, her voice drifted off before the bet could hit Prince’s ears. He sighed in relief, only now processing he had his hand against Prince’s face.

“Oh sorry,” He said, dropping his hand, which immediately craved the warmth of his face like a drug addict.

“It’s fine. Your friends, I suppose?” Crowley just nodded.

“They’re not exactly the happiest with me at this moment. They think I’ve been slagging them off to hang out with-”

“Me” Prince finished and Crowley confirmed with a nod.

“They can keep thinking that way for all I care. I mean, without you, angel, I’d probably be wasted in a field somewhere with shit grades and no future. My grades are still horrendous, but they aren’t as bad as they were at the beginning of the year,” Prince shook his head at his deprecating comments.

“Horrendous! They are improving dramatically and I’m not the one doing all the work. That’s you, putting the effort in. You can do this, I believe in you. Don’t sell yourself short, Anthony!” He said, looking so sincerely in his eyes that Crowley felt the blood rush to his face and his heart begin to beat faster.

“Crowley,” He said before he could think. Prince just looked at him confused. “You can call me Crowley,” Prince’s face opened in shock, his brain processing what he had said.

“Really?” He asked with this incredulous look on his face.

“Yeah, really” Prince’s face broke out in a grin and Crowley was being hugged before he had finished speaking. However, due to them being crouched under a table, it caused Crowley to fall backwards on the ground with a lapful of angel on top of him.

“Oh dear! I’m so sorry, Crowley,” And all annoyance Crowley may have felt dissipated in an instant. Finally, he was no longer saying his name like it was a bad thing, and Crowley became hooked on how his tongue curled perfectly around his name like it belonged to him and only him. He realised no one would ever quite say his name like Aziraphale Prince would underneath a musty picnic table.

“It’s alright, angel,” Suddenly feeling very warm despite the October chill.

“Thank you,” Prince said, looking down at him and no words were needed.

“I suppose even if I tell you to call me Aziraphale, you won’t stop calling me angel, right?” Crowley grinned and nodded.

“Keep dreaming, angel,” He laughed and Aziraphale beamed back.

Aziraphale had told Crowley to drop him off at the bus stop he had picked him up from, just in case his father was waiting for him. He smiled like an idiot to himself as he walked back home. Crowley, Crowley, Crowley. Who knew a name could be so addicting to say? And the way he had looked at him when he had first said it oh what or who possibly could compare? 

He looked back at this morning, when he was so anxious about what the day would bring. He was thankful now he hadn’t wished his father a good morning, as It could’ve led to him staying at home and not being able to call Anthony,  Crowley. He found it so strange how a name that used to invoke such panic now brought a secret smile to his face. If you had told him just a couple of months earlier that he’d be actively waiting until the next time he’d see Anthony Crowley, he’d faint right he stood and rushed off to church to pray for the rest of his life.

He turned the corner and stared up at his home. His father had requested they’d be more separated than the rest of the house, saying they weren’t like us and we deserve the best. So his home stood alone, isolated from the community but still important enough to associate the entirety of Haven St as ‘The Prince Neighbourhood’. 

Aziraphale’s smile faltered at the sight. He didn’t dare think about how Crowley made him happier than the sight of his home. He made his way up the stairs leading to his front door and turned the keys in the door and pushed himself in.

“I’m back!” He called out, hoping his mother could hear. She did, and she came running out of the kitchen, glass and cloth she was using in hand. She looked shocked, which confused Aziraphale.

“Aziraphale, you’re not supposed to be yet!” He furrowed his eyebrows at her statement. She rushed forward and grabbed his shoulders with one hand. “I beg of you, come back at 6!”

“Why? I’m on curfew, it’s only 5:15!” She shushed him, glancing behind her.

“You’re not supposed to be here yet. He’ll know. Please just 45 more minutes-” Her warnings were cut by his father’s cold voice.

“Dorothy, is that our son you’re hiding,” She froze and looked him in the eye. He was so confused, her words not making any sense to him. She turned to face him, which meant that he could see John Prince standing in the hallway, glaring at his family.

“Aziraphale, I see you’ve returned home. Tell me, did you enjoy yourself?” His facial expression shifted from angry to comforting, looking at Aziraphale dead in the eyes. He glanced up at his mother, the wrong thing to do.

“Look at me when I am speaking to you. How many times have I told you?” He whipped back to his father, who was stalking closer to the both of them. He grabbed hold of Aziraphale’s arm, his fingers digging into his skin and started dragging him upstairs to his office. His mother dropped the glass and cloth as she rushed towards them.

“John, stop!” He spun around, pointing at her to stay back.

“You will stay out of this if you know what’s good for you, woman,” She stopped at the base of the stairs, unable to move forwards. She took a step backwards, creating distance between the two men “And clean that mess up, you useless bitch,” He said and started up the stairs once again. Aziraphale recoiled at his father’s words, tears stinging his eyes. He tried futility to twist in his grasp, to look at his mother crying passively.

He was thrown into the office, stumbling over his feet in order not to fall on the floor. His father paid him no glance, locking the door and going to stand in front of his desk. He crossed his arms, waiting for Aziraphale to catch his breath  like it was an inconvenience for him.

“Now, I’ll ask again. Did you enjoy yourself, Aziraphale?” He looked at his father and tried to stand up straighter despite his trembling legs.

“Yes, father,” He nodded and kept going.

“Good, I’m glad. What did you do?” Aziraphale tried to keep his face as passive as possible, not wanting his fear and confusion to show.

“We.. We went to a cafe near his house and worked there for the morning. Then we took a break to walk to the park and continued to work there,” His father narrowed his eyes.

“A cafe! Tell me, which cafe was this, Aziraphale?” His eyes widen subconsciously ”I’m only asking because Newton’s mother had no idea where either of you were when I called her. Or that her son was being tutored by my son,” He pushed himself off the table and started stalking towards him. Aziraphale fought the urge to step back.

“I-I. Newt’s just embarrassed that he received tutoring, that’s it! I believe he told his mother he was with his girlfriend, Anathema!”

“Girlfriend!” At this, his father sprung and pushed him against the wall behind him, holding him by his neck. “You mean to tell me that not only you are with someone who doesn’t go to church, but some insolent little brat who lies to his parents and has a girlfriend! Do you have any idea how you make this family look like if you are hanging out with some low-life that’s not worthy of our presence?” 

Aziraphale pushed at his hand, hoping to get one more breath. His father slammed him backwards, causing him to hit him against the wall. Blinding pain shot from his face as he squeezed his eyes in pain.

“And how did you get home? The bus stop in town is only 45 minutes away, meaning you should’ve been here at 5:00 if you got the train that arrives at 4:15. And the Pulsifer residence is only 30 minutes away, meaning you should’ve been here earlier!” Aziraphale squirmed, his eyes clouding.

“Sir, please. I can’t breathe!” His father sneered at him, before releasing his grip. Aziraphale’s vision came back suddenly as he took big gulps of air. His father stared him down his nose, clearly thinking he was exaggerating.

“Answer me, Aziraphale!” He couldn't. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stand, couldn’t see. It was too much. His legs collapsed under him and he found he no longer cared if his father found him pathetic. He knew he did either way, having noticed how he looked at him when he got a second plate and failed to take interest in sport and law like him. 

He should just tell him the truth, about how he lied in the first place about who he was seeing and how he had disobeyed him that September day. He could see it now, how his father’s blinding rage would overtake him and they'd have to create an excuse in the hospital.

How he’d be forced to pull out the tutoring program 

How he’d be stuck in this house for the rest of his life.

How he’d never see Crowley again.

Or how he’d never see his smile.

His eyes.

Him.

He took a deep breathe and forced himself to breathe through the explanation

“Newt got the bus with me and I walked him home, and the journey ended up taking another 15 minutes for me to come home. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me,” He looked up from the floor through his tears, seeing if his father had bought the lie. After a mortifying moment, his father nodded and pulled him up from the floor.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so, Aziraphale. No need for the dramatics, right?” He simply nodded, not trusting himself to scream about the injustice and his under reaction.

“You know I only worry about you, Aziraphale. You’re my son, and I’ll do anything to protect you.” He pulled him for a hug, stroking his hair. Aziraphale froze, unable to move for a moment before the promise of comfort was too great. He wrapped his arms around his father, burying his crying face in his shoulder “I just want you to be near so I know that you’re safe. But you’ve got to let the bird go from the nest for it to learn to fly, right?” He pulled away to look at his son. Aziraphale nodded, wiping his tears, now having calmed down a bit. His father nodded and grabbed his face with both hands.

“I forgive you,”

Chapter Text

Aziraphale stood by the door to his Religious Studies classroom, reading the book he had brought today. Jane Austen’s Emma opened up to him, him often throwing himself in the midst of their drama and world instead of his own. Wouldn’t things be so much easier, if he lived in high society and visiting balls and hearing about scandal that wouldn’t result in him wearing a scarf to school.

He glanced up briefly, trying to look at Crowley discreetly. One of his friends was hanging onto his arm and was leaning quite closely to his ear. If memory serves him right, that was Shax, which Crowley had stated on multiple occasions of not actually liking.

He went back to his book with a smile, having met his eye and although they were hidden behind dark lenses, he could tell they were wide in a ‘ help me ’ sort of way. Having read this book many times, he knew what was going to occur, and yet when Elton declares his affection was for Emma and not Harriet, he couldn’t help but relive the same emotion he had when he first read it. He was, however, rudely interrupted by someone stamping towards him and tapping her heeled boot.

He looked up and felt his heart drop at the sight of Anathema Device with her arms crossed and an accusatory look in her eye.

“Would you like to tell me why my boyfriend got a call from your father on Saturday, Prince?” He simply looked at her, unable to fully process what she had said.

“I-I’m sorry?”

“Thank you for the apology but I’d like to know why it’s necessary before accepting it,” She said, not taking her eyes off of him.

“Long story. No time, really class is about to-"

“Well, try me, Prince, because I’m not leaving until you tell me the reason,” He gulped and closed the book and took a deep breath.

“Uh, okay. So, uh in the beginning, there was, well I’m in the school’s tutoring program-”

“Yeah so am I, which is why I’m confused why he needs tutoring from you. Not only does he not need it but if he did, he’d come to me,”

“Right. Of course! It’s just that the person I am tutoring I… can’t,” She only furrowed her eyebrows for a moment before relaxing her face.

“You’re tutoring Anthony Crowley, aren’t you?” He looked at her, shocked she could figure him out so easily.

“What! NO, what makes you think so?”

“You’re aura’s all twitchy and it changed when I said his name. Ergo, I was correct,” He looked at her as if she had only started talking in those weird internet abbreviations Crowley used all the time when they messaged.

“So you’re tutoring Crowley, so you told your father you’re actually tutoring Newt,” He visibly relaxed, nodding to confirm her theory.

“Yes. I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience this has caused. To you and Newton,” She simply looked at him, or at least his direction as she looked just above his head or just past him before speaking again.

“Forgiven. But why my boyfriend? Why not someone else?” He was about to respond, with what he did not know as although he didn’t want to, he figured she’d realise the truth whether or not he told her, until the door swung open and Professor Agnes Nutter stood in the doorway.

“I was expecting that our dear Martha wouldn’t be able to join us. Someone tell her I hope she recovers from her cold soon,” She spun around and walked into the classroom. Everyone looked at each other, realising that Maggies wasn’t in fact with them and that they had no idea in the first place she was sick. Aziraphale looked behind him to find Crowley staring at him. He turned back around and walked to his desk.

Ever since he had started tutoring Crowley, Professor Nutter placed them together, despite their next lesson being after Aziraphale asked to officially not tutor him anymore. A glint in her eye told them that she knew. As soon as Aziraphale was seated, Crowley launched himself into his seat.

“What was that about-”

“Silence back there! We are about to begin,” Professor Nutter said, not bothering to check who was talking. Crowley leant away from Aziraphale, only to pull out a loose sheet of paper in his blazer pocket and start scribbling away. After a few seconds, he passed it to Aziraphale

Wot did she want??? 

Well, my father called up the Pulsifer Residence over the weekend and she was simply interrogating me on why he did so.

WHAT!!! holy shit, did he find out

No, I think his mother’s answer was vague enough to believe I was truly with him and I certainly didn’t tell him I was with you.

Thank god (next to a very badly drawn picture of prayer hands and a stick figure being shone on by God’s light) rlly enjoyed saturday tbh 🙂

Aziraphale looked at the note for a moment, looking at Crowley who was leaning on his hand to face him, the tiniest of grins on his face that Aziraphale couldn’t help but share his own.

Same

Btw, why u wearing scarf?? We’re inside

I guess I’m really cold

Crowley pushed his food around with his fork, not really paying attention to what his group was saying. He swam in his memories of Saturday, when Aziraphale had hugged him under a musty wooden table just because he had allowed him to call him Crowley. Aziraphale : the name felt foreign on his tongue despite him having taken residence in his mind for the better part of 2 months. Entirely too many syllables that no normal parent would give to their child but it fit him perfectly. An angel of heaven, of earth.

As always, his daydreaming about his angel was interrupted by one of his friends shaking him.

“Helloooo! Earth to Crowley,” He smacked Shax away, feeling violated at her touch alone.

“Piss off! I’m listening!” Ligur guffawed from the other end of the table.

“Right, that’s why you didn't bother to answer my answer!” Crowley rolled his eyes. Always with the dramatics with this lot.

“Fuck off! Just tell me what you said,” Ligur rolled his eyes but repeated what he said.

“I said, what time are you coming over to mine this Saturday?” Crowley groaned. It’s not that Ligur had a bad house, it was actually quite nice but he didn’t necessarily want to get drunk this weekend, and that’s all that Ligur seemed to want to do all the time.

“I can’t, I’ve got a session with-”

“I swear to God, If you say Prince’s name, I will scream!” Shax interrupted, Crowley stared at her in disgust.

“Better cover your ears then, ‘cause I don’t necessarily want to be deafened today,” 

“She’s right, Crowley. We haven’t seen you properly in like months. Ever since you’ve started this tutoring thing, you’ve completely ditched us. And for a Prince as well!” Dagon butted in and Crowley considered to yell at her to shut the fuck up.

“Well, I don’t know if you cunts have noticed, but I have been tasked with seducing and shagging a Catholic. It’s not exactly an overnight process,”

“So? Go tell your angel that you aren’t going out for one day. It’s not like you’ll lose progress if you don’t talk to him everyday. There’s no way in hell you are missing my Halloween party for fucking Prince !” Crowley had forgotten that stupid tradition. Ligur’s parties did their job of royally fucking him up and he hadn’t missed one since he discovered the joys of being drunk.

So yeah, there was no logical way that Crowley could miss the party he had gone to for the past years to hang out with his sworn ‘enemy’ instead.

But whoever had called Crowley logical?

“What if I bring him?” All four faces turned to face him, as if he offered to jump onto the table and start dancing nakedly.

“You’re joking, right? Please, dear God, tell me you’re joking,” Hastur deadpanned. Crowley ignored him to offer an explanation.

“Well the bet is to ruin Prince and his image so that his father has no choice but to step down,” He finished, but clearly it wasn’t enough for his fellow demons.

“Yeah, but the bet was to shag him. Or have you found out you can’t shake the religious trauma out of him long enough to stick it up his arse?” Crowley winced at Hastur’s crude language. While that was the only reason he had started to talk to Aziraphale, it didn’t mean he liked to think about it… like that. If he did imagine Aziraphale squirming underneath him, swallowing his moans with his own lips, then that is between Crowley and his box of tissues.

“Well, it ain’t necessarily gonna look good if a Prince is seen in an Inferno Ave. party, drinking and smoking, it ain’t gonna look good. It’s just extra damage I can deal-”

“If you fail?” Ligur cut in and Crowley was overwhelmed with the desire to hit him.

“Along with the reveal of us shagging,” Ligur seemed to consider it for a moment, only to offer more resistance.

“That’s all well and nice, but I don’t want no Prince at my party! Feels sacrilegious, innit?”

“He’ll be in costume anyways! I promise he won’t come in his Sunday best, ‘kay?” He stuck his hand out, waiting for Ligur to stick out his own. He was still staring at him oddly, and Crowley just wanted to scream ‘ JUST DO IT! ’. After a moment, where Crowley was about to actually scream, Ligur finally met his hand with his own and shook it. Feeling extremely satisfied about his own success, he scanned the room for his signature white tuft of curls. When he finally spotted him, his heart skipped a beat. He was so far in his head, he didn’t even notice when some Year 11, Eric or something, came up to them telling them that two Year 10s were having a fight outside over someone’s boyfriend. 

Because Aziraphale wasn’t sitting alone, head in clouds and nose in book.

Anathema Device and Newton Pulsifer had cornered him at his table.

At lunch, Aziraphale was quietly eating by himself, a common event considering he had no friends, and the only friend he did have couldn’t- wouldn’t sit with him. But he was content either way as now he could read his book without people thinking he was rude.

He was happily enjoying his book, a conversation between Harriet and Emma when he was interrupted once more. This time, Anathema wasn’t alone and Newt stood by her side in a way that screamed ‘Please don't make me talk to him’. He closed his book with a sigh and looked up at the couple. 

“Hello again Anathema. Newton, it’s good to see you,” The couple shared a look and Newton faced back towards him, most likely as he was more scared of his girlfriend than confrontation.

“What you did was… unacceptable. You can’t use me in your lies to do whatever without telling me,” Aziraphale kept his face neutral, clearly seeing his anxiety on his face.

“I know, I do feel terrible. I am sorry, Newton,” He looked back at Anathema, who only shrugged. He looked back and nodded.

“Right, yeah. All good then. Sorry to bother you,” He turned to leave, only for Anathem to grab his collar and push him down to the seat, sitting in front of him.

“Mind if we sit here?” Aziraphale shook his head.

“Not at all,” He said and Anathema bit into the apple. He hated to admit it but it was awkward, considering Newton wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“You’ve yet to explain why you used us in your lie,” He looked at her for a moment.

“Oh, did Crowley’s father phone your aunt too?” She pulled a face, as if that perfectly respectable reason was nonsensical.

“No. She told me about it before we started school,” He was about to question further, but retreated when she didn’t pause. “So why did you use us?” He looked at them both before darting his gaze down and began to explain:

“Obviously I can’t, as a Prince, hang out with Crowley. My father simply won’t allow it. The easiest solution is to use someone like Martha's or Virtue’s family, who are strong supporters of my father. However, Crowley pointed out that if my father talks to them regularly or trusts them, we would be discovered. It just happened that your and Newton’s family aren’t the strongest supporters of either of our fathers’. Your families are in the middle, with the slightest tilt to my or Crowley’s father,” Anathema shared a look with Newton and looked back.

“Okay, so you want us to cover for you whenever you run off with Crowley,”

“I well, that’s not-”

“Talking about me, angel?” He turned at the voice to find Crowley looming behind him.

“Crowley! We were just-” Crowley cut him off by looking at Anathema.

“Book Girl! Anathema, isn’t it?” She nodded, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

“It is, Crowley. Aziraphale just told us how you used us in your lies so you guys can hang out,” Aziraphale looked at her and back to him, who had arched an eyebrow at her words.

“She’s not. I mean- I. Well, I certainly didn’t phrase it like that!” He scoffed with a smile at his words and turned back to Anathema.

“Well, that’s pretty much it, if we’re honest,”

“And now you want us to cover for your own needs?” Crowley pretended to think about it for a moment before muttering out a silent ‘yeah’ and nodding. “What’s in it for us?” She leant back and crossed her arms, Newton copying a moment later.

“UGH! Just do it!” He slammed his hands against the table, causing Aziraphale to flinch.

His father slammed him backwards, causing him to hit him against the wall. Blinding pain shot from his face as he squeezed his eyes in pain.

Anathema just stared, clearly not intimidated by his display. After a tense moment of them staring each other down, Crowley relented and groaned.

“Fine! I’ll get you an invite to Ligur’s Halloween party this weekend,” Anathema looked at him before sticking out her hand. Crowley shook it and sat himself near Aziraphale.

“I knew you were going to be difficult. It’s you I need to talk to,” Aziraphale looked at him and whipped his head around.

“Here? Now?” Crowley sighed, and Aziraphale could bet he rolled his golden eyes as well.

“Relax, angel, everyone’s watching a fight between two Year 10s. Besides, it’s about Ligur’s Halloween party,” 

“What about it?”

“You’re going,” He stated, a sly smirk creeping in. Aziraphale turned back to his lunch

“Oh Crowley, please-”

“NO! You don’t get to refuse. I promised you lessons in how to live life like a normal teenager and an unsupervised party is the way. To. go!”

“Absolutely not! I can not, in my Catholic faith, go to a halloween party! It is the devil’s holiday that sinners celebrate!”

“Then go in your non-Catholic faith, though I don’t know how recognisable a costume that is. Look, angel, the bottom line you’re going to this party whether you like it or not,”

“Well I don’t like it! When is it, anyways?”

“Saturday. 8pm,” Aziraphale shook his face as a shocked laugh came out of him.

“Don’t make me laugh, Crowley! Do you truly believe my father, the official curfew at 6pm, real curfew at 5pm, is going to let me out on a Saturday night at 8pm to go to a HALLOWEEN party? Listen to yourself, you’re being ridiculous!” Crowley recoiled from him, and Aziraphale realised he had raised his voice.

He could see it now, how his father’s blinding rage would overtake him and they'd have to create an excuse in the hospital.

He could see it, even through the glasses, he was scared. He had never raised his voice, at anyone, having sworn to himself he’d never be like his father. And now he had, and it had been at Crowley, with Anathema and Newton just watching. His face morphed into mortification. He began to stammer an apology it wasn’t his fault he didn’t want to he never wanted to scare or harm Crowley he was his best friend and he could never live with himself-

“Well, it’s a good thing we’ve got someone who has agreed to cover for us,” Aziraphale’s train of guilt stopped in its tracks at Crowley’s word. Realisation hit him and he, Crowley and Anathema turned to face Newton, who now realised they were talking about him. He looked like he was about to retaliate, before Crowley shot him a look that reminded him that he (on behalf of his girlfriend) had shaken on it. He sighed and slumped in his seat.

“What do you want me to do?”

Chapter Text

Once again, Aziraphale found himself sitting at the dinner table with his heart rapidly beating in his chest as he prepared to lie to his father. He stroked his sore neck, still red from Saturday. He switched his gaze from his mother to his father and back, his whole body holding its breath in anticipation.

“Father, may I ask you something?” His father looked up, analysing him.

“What is it, Aziraphale?” He gulped, setting his knife and fork down. At this point, his mother stopped, watching the interaction through careful eyes.

“You know Newton, right?” His father pushed his plate away, already annoyed and irritated.

“Yes?”

“Well, him and his mother wanted me to have dinner with them Saturday night and then sleep over, to say thank you for the tutoring,”

“Sleepover? Aren’t you getting too old for sleepovers, Aziraphale?” He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed in front of him.

“Actually, I’ve never spent a night away from the house, and I think me and Newton are becoming very close friends. Please father?” His father glared at him and Aziraphale watched his jaw clench. He waited with a bated breath for his response. A moment of silence passed between them and he refused to break eye contact with his father. He looked up at him with his best pleading eyes. 

“When is this?” Aziraphale allowed himself to relax as he responded to his father.

“Saturday night,” 

“You’d miss church,” Aziraphale’s eyes widened. He hadn’t thought this through. He was thinking about it then but there was no way his father was going to allow him to miss church. He was about accept his fate and Crowley’s disappointment when his mother started to speak

“He’d only miss the morning service. I’m sure that if Aziraphale reaches us by lunchtime, he’ll be more than happy to help the church until evening mass,” He turned back to look at his father.

“Of course I would. I’d be more than happy!” Thank God for his saint of a mother, he might actually have a chance at succeeding. Would Crowley be proud? His stomach churned at the thought of a party, a halloween one at that but he found that the strange feeling in his chest was a form of excitement, though he had never known it would stem from something he wouldn’t ever consider two months ago. Aziraphale watched as by some miracle, his father’s posture relaxed and he nodded.

“Alright then, Aziraphale. I’ll allow it. I’ll have to discuss this with his mother, obviously,” He said back. Aziraphale nodded rapidly.

“I figured. I gave Newton the landline’s number. I told him to call it at 7pm,” As if on cue, the phone in the other room started to ring. His father sighed and pushed himself off the table. Aziraphale followed him quickly. His father picked up the phone and brought it to his ear.

“Hello Prince Residence,”

“Yes, hello Mrs Pulsifer. We spoke last Saturday,”

“He’s just informed me. It’s quite the surprise, I don’t think I’ve ever known him to be interested in such silly things like sleep overs or outside excursions since he met your son,” Aziraphale winced slightly, hoping Newton’s mother wouldn’t take much offence, considering they had made her agree to lie to the most influential man in town.

“Yes, mentioned your son lots of times recently,”

“That’s my son, always helping other,”

“As always, I don’t necessarily want him to miss church. The service starts at 8am, so if you can bring him back in time for that,”

“John!” His mother called out. He looked at her with a glare for a moment before turning back to the phone.

“Or if it’s easier for you, you can bring him at noon as I know your family doesn’t frequent the church as much as they should,” A moment passed before his father finally nodded.

“Alright. Goodbye Mrs Pulsifer,” He hung the phone back on the line, his jaw still clenched as he turned to face his family.

“I think I deserve a thank you for letting you go out and miss the morning service, don’t you agree?” Aziraphale immediately rushed forwards to hug his father tight. He burrowed into his shoulder.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” His father stiffened under him but patted his back

“Yes, yes. Very good. Now off you go to bed,” He released his father from his grip and turned to face his mother one last time. He mouthed her a ‘ thank you ’ before making his way upstairs.

After getting fully changed and ready for bed, he went to lock his door and quickly pulled out his phone to text Crowley.

You: Well, you wily serpent, your plan worked.

my best friend in the whole wide world: told u it would work didnt i?

You: Yes, yes you did.

You: So, what’s next?

my best friend in the whole wide world: ill pick u up on saturday we'll go shopping and then we’ll get changed at my house and make our way to ligur’s party

You: Why do we need to go shopping? I can bring my own clothes.

my best friend in the whole wide world: soz to say this angel but i dont necessarily trust you to bring appropriate clothes

You: What do you mean? I have very appropriate clothes!

my best friend in the whole wide world: for church, angel. you think i’ll allow you to pop off to my side of town, dressed like that?

You: I have standards. What do you suggest, anyways?

my best friend in the whole wide world: we’ll see when we get there, wont we

You: You demon! I’ll check the bus schedules to see when a good decoy bus departs and then I’ll text you at what time I’ll be at the abandoned stop.

my best friend in the whole wide world: k

Aziraphale wanted desperately to respond, but he had the feeling Crowley didn’t want to talk to him at the moment. Guilt started creeping up from the pits of his stomach. It was all his fault, he’d yelled at him for simply wanting his friend to experience a normal life, like he’d requested. With a deep breath, he began typing out his apology.

You: Crowley, you must know how awful I feel about today. I don’t know what came over me, I certainly didn’t mean to yell at you like that. You have done so much for me, opened my eyes to new experiences I would’ve never done myself. I didn’t mean it and I am so sorry if I have caused any ill feelings. 

‘You: You mean the world to me.’ SEND? OR DELETE?

He wrote the last sentence but hovered over the send button. Was it too much? Did he appear too clingy? Too sentimental? A guy like Crowley probably wouldn’t appreciate sentimental and gushy feelings like this. He went to delete the draft but he clearly didn’t move his fingers far down enough and he watched helplessly as his finger hit the SEND button instead of the DELETE button.

Who had made this stupid phone? Why on Earth would you make the SEND button and DELETE button so close together?

“No no no nononono,” He watched as his message was sent and Crowley became active and read it.

“Oh f… bugger!” He couldn’t delete it now. He’d already seen the message, how would he explain it to him if he did? 

‘Yeah, just deleted that message because I didn’t mean to send it because I think you’d make fun of my feelings. See you tomorrow?’

He just shut off his phone and debated throwing it across his room but decided to just hide out under his pillow, as he didn’t think he’d be able to face Crowley if it shattered. He patted the pillow and shot up to pace around his room. It was fine, totally fine. Out of sight, out of mind. He could easily avoid his phone for the next few hours. It was fine. Totally fine. Completely and utterly fine.

BUZZ

Who was he kidding? Things weren’t fine! He practically threw himself onto the bed and fished his phone out from under his pillow.

my best friend in the whole wide world: oh wow okay

He groaned and face panned into his pillow, willing himself gone. Aziraphale thought he’d actually die like this. On his bed, phone in hand due to embarrassment. His parents would knock the door down and bury him the next day with his headstone reading:

AZIRAPHALE PRINCE

SON, BROTHER, COMPLETE IDIOT

DIED DUE TO THE CONSEQUENCES OF HIS OWN ACTIONS

Just when he thought he was finally going to kick the bucket and meet his maker, his phone buzzed once more.

my best friend in the whole wide world: didnt think u thought of me so dearly angel im flattered 

You: I’m actually extremely mortified at the moment

my best friend in the whole wide world: dont be

my best friend in the whole wide world: you mean the world to me too angel

Saturday rolled around after days of meaningless work and Crowley came to a stop, slowing his car in front of the bus stop. He rolled down the window, revealing Aziraphale cuddling his coat tighter to himself.

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping!” He yelled, and smirked at Aziraphale’s face of confusion.

“I’m aware of our plans, Crowley. Is the insult really necessary?” Crowley scoffed at Aziraphale’s lack of pop culture references. He put the car in drive and sped off down the street.

“Let me guess, your father didn’t allow you to watch Mean Girls ?” Aziraphale pursed his lips, realising now that Crowley hadn’t actually called him a loser or thought he was one. If you asked him a couple of years ago, however, Crowley would’ve regrettably shared the sentiment.

“Anyways, where exactly are we headed?”

“The mall. We need to get you a respectable costume so you’re fully disgusted-“

“The mall?” Aziraphale questioned “Tadfield doesn’t have a mall,”

“Correct as always, angel. We’re going to the neighbouring town about 30 minutes away. It’s bigger than ours so it’s got a real mall, not whatever is in our town. Besides, that way you don’t have to worry about someone recognising us ‘cus no one knows who we are,” Crowley kept staring ahead at the road while Aziraphale turned to face him.

“You thought about that?” He asked and he suddenly got very uncomfortable. Crowley fidgeted slightly in his seat.

“Ngk-uh Yeah. I know how much it worries you and I don’t want you to feel more anxious than you already are,” Crowley watched out of the corner of his eye as a soft smile appeared on Aziraphale’s face.

“Oh, Crowley, that’s so nice-“

“How many times do I have to say, angel, I am not nice! Nice is a four letter word, and I am not it!” Aziraphale's smile faltered slightly and he recoiled from Crowley for the smallest of seconds, so fast Crowley had to convince himself that he did see it.

“I don’t think I’ve ever left Tadfield before,” Aziraphale admitted, looking out the window as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“What?!” Aziraphale whipped back around and met Crowley’s gaze.

“What’s the matter?”

“You’ve never left Tadfield?” He asked and Aziraphale nodded slowly.

“Yes. Have you-“

“Yes. Obviously! Doesn’t your father leave, like, every month?” He asked and Aziraphale seemed to think about it for a moment.

“Those are business trips. We’re not allowed to go on them. Do you go with your father?” Aziraphale asked curiously 

“He does leave at a moment's notice but we always have some form of family vacation. Most summers we go down to Brighton for a week or Cornwall. Don’t you have family vacations?” Aziraphale faltered for a moment, not looking Crowley in the eye.

“Father doesn’t allow us to leave. Says we’re better here,” Crowley’s jaw dropped. What a fucking bastard! Who doesn’t allow his family to have a vacation. What is he, God? Crowley bit his tongue, knowing just how defensive Aziraphale could be about his clearly controlling and abusive father. He just left it at that and faced back to the road.

The road trip went pretty quickly after that, and before he knew it, the pair were standing in the biggest building Aziraphale had seen. And just like Crowley had said, hundreds of people passed right by them, as if they were invisible. Crowley saw Aziraphale physically relax, the tiniest hint of a smile beginning to form.

“See? Nothing to worry about, angel. C’mon, let’s head to Damaged Society,” Before Aziraphale had the chance to protest, Crowley grabbed his hand and started dragging him through the crowds. He found that he wasn’t too vexed about holding Crowley’s hand. It was smaller than his, no doubt about that but where his harsh lines ended, they fit perfectly with his soft curves. He let out the smallest laugh before running with Crowley through a crowd of people who had no idea who they were. They reached the store and headed inside.

“So, angel. What do you want to be for Halloween?” Aziraphale looked around, running his fingers through various chains and necklaces.

“What’s wrong?” Aziraphale looked up, as if he had forgotten the outside world.

“It’s nothing. Silly really,” Crowley just looked at him, not taking that as a good enough answer “It’s just that… I don’t know how many times I heard my father rave and rant about how evil and pagan this holiday is and Good Christian Men do not support witchcraft and the devil,” Crowley looked at him, unable to bring himself to say anything. “Like I said, silly,”

“No, Aziraphale. It isn’t. You are doing something that wouldn’t even have crossed your mind a few months ago. You are incredible, just because you’re willing to try it. And that is what good Christian men do. People who are inherently good, and if that isn’t you, shit the world might as well stop spinning!” Aziraphale gulped and stared at him as if he had caught a shooting star and handed it to him.

“You called me Aziraphale,” Crowley only then realised he had and the air grew awkward between them.

“Nuh-Uhm Yeah. I guess I did,” He turned to flick through the clothes rack. Aziraphale smiled and slid next to him.

“So, what do you recommend?” 

“Considering it’s your first halloween, I’d go something classic like a vampire or zombie,”

“I don’t know, Crowley,” Crowley thought before he clicked his fingers when he got an idea.

“You could go as a zombie priest!”

“I don’t think I could face Father Abel after that,” Aziraphale responded, a sour look on his face.

“Well, you can always go as a demon,”  Aziraphale’s eyes widened in shock as a crazed laugh escaped him.

“There is no way I am going as a demon. I’ll do it if you go as an angel and there-“

“I’ll do it,” Aziraphale whipped his head around to look at Crowley, complete surprise on his face.

“I don’t think-well I just. Don’t you already have a costume? A doctor something?”

“Angel, I’ve gone as Doctor Who for like two years now. About time I switch it up, don’t you think? Besides, if that's what it takes for you to dress up as a demon, I’ll do anything,” Crowley responded, looking as the look of surprise morphed into horror at the prospect of dressing up as something so sacrilegious.

“Besides, if you’re going to celebrate halloween, why not go full out?” Crowley asked and he watched as Aziraphale slowly nodded and gave in. He grinned. This is going to be so good.

They left the store they were in, having bought some extremely cheap horns for Aziraphale and Halo for Crowley plus some appropriate clothes for both of their costumes. They walked side by side. revelling in their freedom and tranquillity. Having just bought a pastry for Aziraphale, the pair walked down the brightly lit mall when Aziraphale stopped suddenly. Crowley turned around, having noticed that Aziraphale hadn’t been walking with him.

“What?” Aziraphale just pointed with his free hand at what he was looking at. Surely enough, Crowley followed his finger to see a Waterstones. 

“They’ve got a bookstore here!” Crowley just nodded. He had trained his brain at a very young age to skim over any bookstore, no matter how much his father wanted him to.

“Can we go in?” Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and not meeting his eyes.

“I don’t-“

“Please, Crowley?” And damn it! He knew he shouldn’t have looked, because Aziraphale was pulling those damn puppy eyes that he failed to refuse every time. He groaned and Aziraphale smiled as he recognised he had won.

“Fine, but quickly! It won’t do good for my reputation if I’m seen in a bloody bookshop,” He grumbled out and Aziraphale laughed at his complaints.

“Of course, dear. I’m sure it does,” He said as he walked towards the entrance. Crowley ran to catch up to him, feeling slightly on edge at the quietness of the store. He saw Aziraphale tucked away in a corner, reading the spines under the Classics section. He picked out a book and opened it, a soft smile appearing as his eyes shifted across the pages. 

Crowley’s heart started beating faster as Aziraphale’s fingers started playing softly with the edge of the paper. In spite of himself, he thought about how ethereal he looked, hidden from the world and the bullshit in it and how he appeared as if he was part of the store, radiating happiness and calm. He approached him from behind, looking over his shoulder at the page that was open.

“Whatcha reading, angel?” Aziraphale looked up from his book, and realised just how close they were. Their noses were a centimetre away, so close to touching and both hearts started to beat faster.

“Just a poetry book. It’s an Oscar Wilde one,” He turned back to the book and began to read. 

“ Two young lovers lying in an orchard would have read the story of our love; would have read the legend of my passion, known the bitter secret of my heart, kissed as we have kissed, but never parted as we two are fated now to part ,” Aziraphale slowed down as he read on, not having noticed the nature of the poem at first, and with a gulp faced back to Crowley. “Sorry. You probably couldn’t care less about poetry,”

He wasn’t wrong, exactly. Having endured the endless lectures the last two years, falling asleep at the talk of structure and form and couldn’t care less about the themes about Sonnet 116 or Remember . He cursed inwardly when he remembered their poem for their English Literature GCSE was the mammoth that was My Last Duchess . 

“Yeah, I guess. Normally, I would go insane if I had to listen to Mr Young rattle on about La Belle Dame sans Merci for another minute, but I don’t mind,” They shared a secret smile between the two, the message heard but unsaid.

I don’t mind if it’s you .

Aziraphale turned away from him and placed the book back in its place.

“You're not gonna buy it?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale gave the book one last glance before shaking his head.

“Father says I have too many books at home and I can only buy more if I remove some,” 

“Of course you would have a book ban,” Aziraphale shrugged and started to walk away. Crowley looked at the book and back at Aziraphale’s retreating figure. He grabbed the book.

It was only when he left the store when Aziraphale realised Crowley hadn’t followed him out. He turned back to the store, his brain thinking back to the book he had picked up. Why would he read that poem? Of all of Wilde’s work, why did it have to be that one he read as Crowley looked at him like… that . He looked back at the store to see if he could see Crowley’s slender figure. Crowley’s flaming red hair appeared a second later, that book in his hand. He stopped in front of him, wordlessly handing it over.

“Crowley, you didn’t have to,”

“You’re right, I didn’t. But I did” He paused, and the two looked at each other as if the rest of the world had disappeared. “Take the book, angel. Disobeying a parent’s order, big normal teenager thing to do,” Hesitantly, his hands covered the book and pulled it softly away from Crowley’s hands. Aziraphale’s mind was racing and was still at the same time. He knew how Crowley felt about being kind but that was possibly one of the nicest things anyone had done to him in… a very long time.

“Thank you, Crowley. Truly,” Despite being hidden, Crowley rolled his eyes.

“Shut up! Let’s just go before I process the fact I just bought a book,” He put his hands in his pockets and walked off. Aziraphale hooked his arm around him and walked with him.

“Any shops you’d like to visit, dear?” Crowley blew out a puff of air before shaking his head.

“I don’t really know,” He admitted. Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows in confusion

“Didn’t you say you frequent this mall with your friends all the time?” He asked.

“I-Nye-uh. Yeah, but we mostly act like total dickheads in the food court,” He flashed him a mischievous, knowing how he felt about swear words. Aziraphale pursed his lips.

“Language, as always. Secondly, there must be something you enjoy. A hobby or an interests-”

“Nope. Big no interest guy me,” At that moment, Crowley’s gaze moved from his face to just behind Aziraphale. He turned around to find a plant shop behind him. A satisfied smile over finding out one of Crowley’s interests, he turned around to find Crowley furiously shaking his head.

“No. No no no-”

“Come on Crowley! You know you want to!” He groaned, tipping his head back in annoyance.

“Why do we have to? It’s not that big of a deal!”

“Exactly! So let’s just go in and have a quick look!” He suggested. Crowley leaned in close.

“NO!” He began to walk away, leaving Aziraphale to run after him.

“Why? You aren’t scared, are you?” Crowley stopped mid step, turning his body to fully face him.

“Sorry? I am not scared of a shop,” Aziraphale crossed his arms tilting his head to look at him.

“I don’t know. It sure does seem like that from here,” He wagged his finger furiously in front of him.

“No I’m not. In fact, I’ll show you just how not scared I am,” Crowley pushed past him, marching adamantly towards the store and stepping inside. He grinned and lifted his arms above him. “See! Not scared!” Aziraphale joined him side, and looped his arm around his and said with a smile:

“Of course not, my dear. As we’re inside now, mind showing me your favourite?” Crowley’s smile fell as he was pulled further in.

“Bastard,”

“Language, dear,” He responded. After a pause, he looked back at him. “I know,” Crowley grinned and pulled him towards a section of the store. There stood a massive green plant, with large leaves the perfect oval shape and small gaps in certain spaces.

“This is a monstera. I’ve got loads of them in my room, they’re super easy to take care of, only really need to water them every one to two weeks and I’ve got a massive one,” He looked at them, thumbing over a leaf with a spot. He tutted and threw it down.

“Obviously this one is a disappointment. My plants know better than to dare grow spots. I simply won’t stand for them,” Aziraphale immediately felt the tiniest bit bad for the leaf, who in his imagination was shaking.

“That’s so mean! I think it’s quite wonderful the way it is,” He stroked it, hoping it’ll make it feel bad. Then he stopped as he realised he was comforting a plant.

“Of course you would, angel. You don’t have the green thumb needed to grow a good plant,” He walked off, looking at other plants that hadn’t disappointed him so far. He knelt down to the monstera plant.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s just a bit grumpy. I think you’re doing wonderful,” He whispered and ran off to catch up to him. The plant seemed to glow a bit brighter than it did before.

Aziraphale found Crowley in the flower section, looking over a mix of flowers of different shapes and colours. Aziraphale didn’t appreciate the thoughts rushing him at this moment. He looked splendid, his dark and muted colours making him stand out in the colourful field around him. An outsider and a part of the scene at the very same time. Aziraphale forced these thoughts about his friend out of his mind and approached him.

“Look at you, you’re gorgeous,” Aziraphale’s face flushed, only to realise that Crowley was looking at a purple flower in front of him.

“What is it?”

“A heliotrope. And wonderfully grown at that,” He lifted it out from the mass below, holding it in front of his face to look for any imperfections.

“Are they easy to care for?”

“Uh, It depends. They’re very needy, needing 6 hours of sunlight normally in the morning, which means I’m very surprised it was able to grow so beautifully in England,” He stated, not looking at Aziraphale. Building his courage, he spoke up:

“Do you want it?” At that, Crowley did look at him, having arched his eyebrow in confusion.

“What?” 

“I said, do you want it?” He asked again and Crowley looked at him as if he had spoken fluent Latin.

“Angel, you can’t possibly-”

“Actually I can,” He grabbed the pot with the flower and walked quickly to the counter. Crowley caught up to him, trying to remove the plant from his grip.

“Angel, you don’t have to,”

“I do, though. See you bought me the book, now I buy you a plant. We’re even now!” He turned to join the queue with Crowley standing awkwardly by his side.

“Thank you,” He muttered. Aziraphale looked at him, not quite used to the explicit gratitude from Crowley.

“You’re welcome. It’s nothing really. I will be expecting daily check-ins, obviously,” Crowley snorted, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but share his sentiment.

“Obviously,”

Chapter Text

The ride back to Tadfield was uneventful, with Crowley forcing Aziraphale to listen to his Velvet Underground CD in order to culture him and explain that it’s not bebop. The pair talked the whole car ride home, plans for the half-term, worries about the upcoming mocks and of course, the halloween party that night. Before either of them knew it, Crowley had parked his car in his driveway and was getting out. Aziraphale stopped talking, looking up at the house with fearful eyes. Crowley noticed and stopped his movements.

“What’s the matter, angel?” He asked. Aziraphale gulped, still looking at the house.

“What if you’re father’s home?” He asked. Crowley sighed and shook his head.

“He’s not in. I got one of his notes that he's on a trip. Won’t be back until halfway through the half-term,” Aziraphale didn’t tear his gaze from the house “That’s not it though, is it angel?” Aziraphale breathed in, shutting his eyes as he spoke.

“It’s just that… I am about to enter Aleistar Crowley’s house. My father would go ballistic if he knew,” He turned to face Crowley. He shrugged in response.

“Good thing he doesn’t need to know, right angel?” Azirapale paused for a moment before nodding his head and getting out quickly. The two rushed to the door, not wanting Crowley’s neighbours to notice the bright and white figure going into the dark house at the end of the avenue. 

“Welcome to the Crowley residence, angel,” Crowley said as he took off his sunglasses and his golden eyes came on display. He took off his shoes and began to walk away. Aziraphale took a moment to take it in. Unlike his old, Victorian style house, Crowley’s home was much more modern, with sleek dark walls and open living plan that contrast greatly to the warm colours and tightly decorated aspect of his house. Like Crowley had mentioned, lots of big potted plants decorated the hallways and modern abstract art pieces lined the walls. Along with art pieces, family photos stood in a collage on a wall to the right. Aziraphale approached it for a closer look and noticed various photos of Crowley at different ages, sometimes accompanied by a girl with a short black bob that was older than him. Crowley joined his side, looking at the photos too.

“That’s my sister, Beatrice. They go by Bee but I always call them Beelzebub ‘cus they’re a prick. A right demon that one is,” Aziraphale giggled a little bit, looking at a picture where Beatrice was shoving handfuls of sand in Crowley’s mouth while he cried when he looked no older than 5. In the middle of the collage stood a family portrait, with Crowley’s dad in the middle surrounded by his children, all three of them blurry as they shook with laughter.

“My father’s got a proper one in his office to unnerve clients. Looks like we’re a Gloomy Victorian family who’ve all gotten the plague,”

“Sounds like the Prince family photos,”

“Yeah, but you probably look like a religious sect or an Amish family,” Crowley laughed out. Aziraphale turned in shock, jaw hanging open.

“We do not!” He responded. Crowley just snorted again.

“Sure thing, angel. Let’s go up to my room,” Crowley turned to go up the staircases near them. Aziraphale gave the photos one last look and didn’t allow himself to think how Crowley’s family photos seemed happier than the Princes’. Aziraphale followed Crowley through the winding staircase and hallways, until they reached a door at the end of a hall with a tattered Queen poster. Crowley placed his hand on the doorknob and looked back at Aziraphale.

“You ready?” Aziraphale looked at him before trying his best to put on a comforting smile and nodded. Crowley pushed the door open and swung it open, allowing Aziraphale to see inside and enter “Welcome to my humble abode, angel,”

Aziraphale Prince didn’t truly know what he had expected from Anthony Crowley’s bedroom, but when he first laid eyes on it, it made perfect sense. The walls were covered with band posters as so there was not a spot that wasn't filled, most noticeably Queen and The Velvet Underground along with with some Hozier posters and a few Jimi Hendrix and The Police as well as a very concerning poster that advised the reader to not lick the walls. Tall towering plants stood in the corners and against the furthest wall and vinyl player covered in decaying stickers next to it. The bed stood against a window, unmade with sheets of dark silk and clothes surrounding it. The ceiling above it depicted a night sky with constellations and stars.

“Oh my,”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Aziraphale looked quickly at Crowley.

“No! Nothing’s wrong, it’s just that it’s exactly what I expected,”

“You think about my bedroom often, angel?” Aziraphale blushed and Crowley pushed past him to dump their stuff on his bed, pulling out the heliotrope and putting it on the window sill. He then laid out their costumes next to each other and looked at them. It was very much them. In the sense that Crowley had bought something Aziraphale would wear and Aziraphale bought something only Crowley could pull off.

“There’s a bathroom over there, if you wanna get changed,” Crowley said and Aziraphale took the clothes and locked himself in the bathroom before he could overthink.

‘Okay, don’t panic, don’t worry and definitely don’t think about how Aziraphale was slowly peeling off all his layers, leaving only a canvas of pale smooth skin just a wall over,’ Crowley thought internally. He could not think about Aziraphale for a second, right? That proved more easy said than done as Crowley’s mind replayed the wash of red in his face when he had called the heliotrope gorgeous or how his cheeks grew red at the indication Aziraphale thought of Crowey in his bedroom often and it was unhelpfully giving him images of how Aziraphale would look like under all those god forsaken layers. How his body would be a plain of rolls and soft skin that Crowley would like nothing more than to grab and squeeze and kiss and-

And let’s not get hard thinking about your friend who’s a wall over! Crowley shook the thoughts out of his head - literally shaking his head for any effort to rid the images from his mind - and looked himself in the mirror, trying to figure out his costume. It was definitely different from his void of black wardrobe he wore everyday, with the light zip-up putting him in a spotlight, the basically broken halo floating above his head. He picked up a few gold chains and necklaces that would compliment his outfit well, deciding to put on a spot of gold glitter eyeshadow on his face.

Crowley was so focused on his makeup that he didn’t hear the door of the bathroom open and shut behind him, only turning at the sound of Aziraphale’s voice.

“So? How do I look?” Crowley put the lid on the mascara and turned around to face him and promptly nearly dropped the mascara to the ground. Despite the very badly made plastic horn he looked fucking ethereal, which made Crowley question how he looked so delectable in absolutely everything. The tight turtleneck they had bought hugged his figure so tightly Crowley was almost jealous it wasn’t him. His round arms were on show as the top didn’t have sleeves and they were so enticing and soft. And those trousers! The way they hugged his ass so well, Crowley felt himself gulp.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Aziraphale rubbed his naked arms, taking Crowley’s thirsty silence for disgust.

“No! Definitely not, angel. You look…” Crowley trailed off, his brain still not being able to form a complex sentence. How was he supposed to describe just how tempting Aziraphale looked like? No word in any language, old or new, could describe what Aziraphale’s look was doing to him

“Good?” Aziraphale offered.

“There’s no word for it, angel,” And there it was again, the rouge tink forming on his cheeks and he was suddenly very thankful he couldn’t see it travel up from his neck.

“You’re wearing makeup,” He said, unsure if it was supposed to be a question or statement.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am,” Crowley turned around in his chair, trying to subtly shift in his seat to not make his crotch so obvious. He started to pack up before stopping to turn Aziraphale once more and ensure no one will ever call him subtle or smart ever again.

“Do you want me to put some on you?” Aziraphale’s eyes widened at the question, like he wasn’t aware that was an option.

“I don’t think my father would approve that,” He whispered softly to himself.

“Angel, you are going to do a lot worse things tonight that your father won't approve of either,” He responded and he saw Aziraphale have that internal debate he had everytime Crowley offered to do something unchristian. He saw the resolution in his eyes and smiled as he raised from the chair to sit on the bed, makeup in hand. He patted the space beside him and Aziraphale sat down. Wordlessly, Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s face and pulled it closer to him. He heard him gasp at his touch and he briefly worried about taking it too far. But Aziraphale didn’t pull away or shout at him, instead leaned into his touch and closer to Crowley. Crowley swallowed and grabbed his eyeliner pencil.

“Look up. This might be a bit weird” He whispered and Aziraphale followed. He cupped cheek and began to line his waterline. Aziraphale stared at the ceiling and that gave Crowley enough reason to flick his eyes down his figure between strokes. He switched to the other eye, wanting to drag this out and keep Aziraphale in grasp forever and cut this short so he doesn’t end in a very compromising position that he didn’t want to explain. 

But part of him wanted to find out how he would react if he just stopped his movements, put his arm down and stared into those light sky eyes of his. Would he pull away, thank him for the makeup or would he lean in, never breaking eye contact and finally, finally kiss him. Would he not know what to do with his tongue? Would he grab Crowley too when his hand would slither to those fucking curls and run his fingers through them and the other around his waist and they’d find out that like their hands, they would fit perfectly together? How would he react if he pushed him back and straddled those delicious thighs, running his hand up and down squeezing and grabbing and taking what’s his. He’d moan into his mouth, holding on to Crowley for dear life as he rubbed their groins together and Crowley would lap it all up ‘cus he’s his , his for the taking to ravish to ruin and he’d see how the makeup he had carefully applied dissolve as he-

“Crowley is everything alright?” Crowley snapped to the present, realising he had finished quite a while ago and was now staring and holding Aziraphale like a creep.

“What? Oh yes, sorry. Didn’t sleep well I suppose. Excuse me,” He launched himself off the bed and made his bathroom to take care of his problem.

They left the house soon after that, when Crowley re-emerged from the bathroom after a couple of minutes looking a bit more refreshed. Aziraphale thought the air was awkward between them. He felt his heart beat faster when Crowley’s hand had cupped his face and he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty as Crowley probably noticed how frazzled he was. He probably felt how his heart was beating and how he didn’t pull away but instead flicked his gaze down to his lips as small, inaudible pants escaped. Aziraphale pushed the thought from his mind, not wanting to analyse that memory again like he had done for the past half an hour. They got in the car in silence and drove in silence, neither of them looking at each other. Aziraphale fiddled with his pinky ring, thumbing the engraved angel wings. Thankfully, he was saved from his overthinking by his anxiety as the car turned the corner which gave view to a house practically thumping with music and lights.

Aziraphale felt his body stiffen at the sight, his throat dry and his leg bouncing up and down frantically. Despite having his eyes covered up again, Aziraphale felt him watching him out of the corner of his eye. As always, Crowley noticed his strife and parked the car down the street a bit before turning to face him.

“Hey, you’re so close. You’ve done amazingly so far,” Aziraphale looked down, twisting his ring. Suddenly, Crowley’s hand came into view and stilled his hand “I’ll be right there with you. Everyone is either way too drunk or high to mess with you,”

“Let’s just go before I hijack this car and drive off,”

“Funny how you think I’d let you touch my car,” Crowley snorted, and got out with him. They walked side by side, as if they had for thousands of years.

“It would actually abide by the speed limit,” Crowley stared at him like he just murdered a family member.

“You wouldn’t dare,”

“No more bebop would play and there’d always be travel sweets and maybe I’d recolour it yellow-” He was cut off by Crowley sticking his fingers in ears and shouting over him.

“NA NA NA NA! I’m not listening! Just because it’s Halloween doesn’t mean you have to say such horrific things!” Aziraphale just laughed and his hands itched to loop through Crowley’s arms like he had done earlier today at the mall when no one knew who they were.

As they came closer to the door, Aziraphale watched an array of kids, most he recognised from school and he felt he could never look them in the eye again as he watched them in various stages of regret from sips of alcohol that will eventually ruin their liver to an indecent position with another right in the open which will make its way around school by tomorrow. The door was open, and as if they were the doors to hell itself, a whole different dimension awaited Aziraphale, he’d already worried about this for so long, might as well get it done with.

He and Crowley stepped inside and the vibe shifted. It was loud, chaotic and hectic. People were bumping into walls, into other people, into him. He silently thanked their bad decisions because no one even considered batting an eye to the unusual blonde tuff of curls. A song that was all bass and no lyrics was playing loudly that in 1 metre, he could no longer hear Crowley talk.

“LET’S GO GET SOMETHING TO DRINK!” Crowley shouted and Aziraphale barely heard him. He held up a thumbs up to indicate he did hear him. Uncaring about the people around them, Crowley grabbed his hand and started to drag him to the kitchen. Thankfully, it was empty, but there wasn’t much left, only one can of beer and a punch bowl he was certain was spiked if those teenage movies Crowley was always on about were correct. Crowley grabbed the nearest unused plastic cup and got some of the punch to test it out. At the way his face scrunched up, Aziraphale’s insides churned.

“Yep, that is definitely Ligur’s favourite cheap-ass vodka in there,” He poured more, until it was ¾ full. He downed until there was half before passing it to Aziraphale “Are you ready for your first bad decision of the night?”

Aziraphale looked at the cup like it would grow a head and a tail in a second. His heart was practically beating out of his chest as he gulped. He’d had alcohol before, but this was so far from communion wine. He wanted to grab it more than anything to show Crowley he wasn’t just some wimpy Christian goody-two shoes, but it was like The Lord’s voice was in his head, screaming about how much of a sinner he was. He didn’t notice when the voice switched from His to his and how accurate his father’s voice was.

He was at a fork in the road, with his father at the end of one shouting at him about the consequences if he didn’t pick the correct way to God. On the other, there was something new, unknown but he knew he’d have Crowley with him. Because it wasn’t his father by his side, urging him to worship and praise God, it was Crowley helping him be him. Even if he turned out to be an overweight church goer who stays inside to read, he had offered opportunities that at that point had only been mistakes. It was Crowley’s voice that reminded him that we should learn and grow from our mistakes, not be punished for them.

“Oh shit, I nearly forgot!” Crowley’s voice took him out of his trance. He whipped his phone out of his pocket and clicked the record button.

“Ladies, gentlemen and all who’d rather say no to those options, Aziraphale’s first house party,” He shoved the phone in and out of his face, vocalising the beats of the song extremely off key “Aziraphale is just about to experience the joys that come with corner shop vodka in three…” Crowley no longer allowed him to think about taking it, thrusting it into his open “Two…” Aziraphale sighed under his breath. He could do this “ONE!”

He immediately felt the burn of the alcohol sting the back of his throat, the punch doing nothing to lighten the blow.

“Oh my God, that is horrendous,” Crowley just cackled, tipping his head back.

“Its influence has already started. Blasphemy! Very fitting with the whole demon get-up, angel. Or should I say demon,” Aziraphale scowled, feeling the alcohol, however small the amount, coursing through his blood and making him feel very warm. He drunk more, finding out that if he didn’t breathe it in, he could gulp down more of it.

“Hell yeah! Look at you go, angel!” Aziraphale chose to blame the alcohol for his cheeks turning red at his praise. He handed it back to Crowley who finished it a lot faster than he would’ve done. “Right. Yeah. Alright, let’s go dance,”

Aziraphale didn't really know what to expect from dancing, figuring Crowley would know more about the topic considering he walked with his hips. His father was thankfully a Christian who permitted dancing yet he couldn’t say he had a lot of experience with the topic. Instead Crowley was whipping his head from side to side, playing an air guitar and generally just jumping around instead of doing any proper dances. Aziraphale figured if the coolest person he knew could let loose, he could too.

Before he knew it, he was having fun, and he felt his worries slowly leave his mind, at least for the smallest of seconds. He reckoned Crowley noticed just how carefree he truly felt, because he smiled at him and it was like this room full of strangers had disappeared. The music didn’t seem too loud and he was hot only because Crowley was staring at him like the only person on earth and not because there were another dozen people around them. It was just him and Crowley, dancing and laughing. His vision grew increasingly more blurry, as he finished the cup he had in his hands, looking at Crowley for his approval.

Not thinking clearly, he stumbled forward, pressing their bodies together. Crowley smirked, continuing to move his body against him. Suddenly it was like a barrier had broken and Aziraphale noticed just how much his body yearned for him. The lean of his neck and those hips that seemed to have a different mind and he wanted nothing more to grab them, just to see if he could grab both with one hand. Suddenly, they both felt very hot and couldn’t rip their gazes from each other. Aziraphale sobered up the tiniest amount, realising just how close they were. He grabbed Crowley’s glasses and put them on, stepping back as he did so.

“There. Say, I think these rather complete the look, don’t you think,” Thinking he had avoided an awkward moment, Aziraphale reaped his consequences as Crowley’s eyes trailed down his body for all to see. He felt very hot, like a spotlight was placed onto him, much like one of his father’s interrogations. But unlike his father’s scrutinous gaze, Crowley’s reveled his figure, taking in every detail to commit it to memory.

“Perfectly,” Crowley’s tongue darted out to wet his lips and Aziraphale found that that flash of pink stole his breath away.

“I’m- I’m going to get another drink,” Crowley seemed to compose himself a bit, blinking to put Aziraphale in focus of his blurry vision. He turned to leave and suddenly felt a lot in common to the people he had seen first coming in. He felt like he had spun around very fast and was forced to walk in a straight line. That could’ve been very bad. How could he have been so stupid? And yet Crowley’s body felt so good against his, the way he rolled his hips and-

-NO!

No, he can’t think of someone that way, especially his best friend. His male best friend. That was a sin. The biggest sin he could possibly commit, it was what Luc-Samuel had done and it has done nothing but cause pain and strife. He remembered so vividly the screams of agony coming from his father’s study as he dealt with his eldest. He remembered that was the first time he had ever truly heard his father swear. How that word had echoed down the hall until a broken man… a broken woman was thrown out of her home.

“How do you expect me to have a fucking faggot representing the family!”

“How could you be so selfish!”

“How could you defile your body with shit!”

“You will never be a woman, Samuel. You will always be a disgusting, tranny, freak!”

He was pulled from the memory, unable to relive the next part. Where his sister had asked for his help and he did nothing . He was expected to marry and have a family and he couldn’t do that if he was dirty, if he was a freak. A small voice in the back of his head reminded him that he was a sinner now, having not only broken British drink laws but the Lord’s law, and no amount of praying could take that away. Not that he was praying anymore, it didn’t do anything except bring him more confusion and pain. He felt shame course his body as he cursed at God’s silence. How he, out of anyone, deserved help the most, after dedicating his life to someone he could only see once he’s died only to be met with silence.

Somehow, he made it to the kitchen, because he recognised the punch bowl, though now it was much less full than it was an hour ago. He poured as much as he could, lifting it to his lips before stopping at the sound of a voice.

“Ah, Aziraphale Prince. I was wondering when we’d see you,” Aziraphale turned around to find all four of Crowley’s friends there. Aziraphale felt himself sober up, as the four of them stood blocking the way out.

“Oh, well, hello!” He said, putting on his best smile to comfort them - and let’s be honest, him. He was very thankful he still had Crowley’s glasses on, as he felt it created at least a small barrier between him and them.

“You know, Crowley has always come here early to pregame with us. Every year. Not this year. Instead, he decided to hang around a pansy like you,” Hastur, who like Ligur only tapped a stuffed frog on his head, stepped forward, spitting out the word that Aziraphale physically recoiled.

“Hastur, don’t be rude! He’s a guest and he’s welcomed here. Isn’t that right?” Shax pushed up from the wall, her fortune teller cloak swaying behind her as she looped her arm around his. Aziraphale stiffened under her touch, relating to every one of Crowley’s rants about her. She smiled to put him at ease, but it did the opposite instead, making him very uncomfortable.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” The other girl, Dagon if he recalled correctly, came to the other side of him, wearing a scaly dress and dragon wings protruding behind her.

“Oh yes, this is all very good,” He turned to Ligur, who despite being the host, only wore a stuffed lizard on his head. “You have a wonderful home,”

“And what about Crowley? Is he having fun?” Aziraphale looked back at Shax, as her grip around his arm tightened. When he didn’t respond, she started talking again “It’s only because ever since you showed up, he’s slagged us off for some angel cake. Which is weird, considering you don’t seem like his type at all,” Aziraphale scrunched his eyebrows at her statement.

“His what?”

“His type, you idiot. He wants to shag you badly and we can’t quite figure out why considering you’re so soft and dull,” Hastur leaned in, pinching his face to drag him closer. “Then again, it’s always the resistant ones that are the most fun to ruin. Christians especially. Gets them to think about their good for nothing Lord as I take what I want,” Fear filled Aziraphale up, and he found that the girls had tightened their grip on him, forcing his arms back so he couldn’t move or push him away. His heartbeat quickened, as he realised he was trapped and had nowhere to run. Hastur’s grip tightened and he cried out in pain, not wanting him to touch him any longer.

“Please. Please stop,” He whimpered out and felt absolutely mortified when a single tear came down his face. The four demons began to laugh raucously.

“Look at the little baby angel crying for his daddy!” Dagon teased mercilessly and Azirphale began to try and tug himself from their grasp, only to find he was too soft to do anything.

“That’s enough Hastur, we have something to do, remember?” Hastur to his credit, threw him back and Aziraphale was at least glad he didn’t need to think about what he had said whilst he was touching him.

“You understand don’t you? I mean, this is our best friend and he left us for you. He left me for someone who isn’t his type. And here you are, parading around our side of town in his glasses. You don’t know how that feels!” Shax said from his side, still locking his arms behind him. In his last attempt to gain some dignity, he turned to face her, staring at her like she was nothing.

“Left you? Crowley can’t stand you and you can’t seem to get a grip on that. You are nothing but a spoiled brat crying over what she can’t have,” The other three demons stared at the interaction, his outburst and words clearly not what they expected him to ever produce. Shax grew red and she was visibly shaking by the time her palm collided with his face.

“Ligur, can you beat the shit out of him now?” 

“My pleasure,” Aziraphale had no time to process either of their words as a hard punch was thrown to his gut, wiping the breath out of him. He shut his eyes as the pain spread to his body. He only got one punch in, before he was pulled to the ground by Crowley. His eyes, still uncovered.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” His friends seemed to stop what they were doing, not daring to breath to loudly “I said, what the FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” Crowley roared, his voice hoarse. He grabbed Hastur and bashed him into the wall, the rest flinching as his head made a sound that described just how painful it was. Hastur cried out.

“We’re just talking to your boyfriend. All Shax’s idea, isn’t that right?” He had a crazed look in his eye and a maniacal grin on his face that unnerved Aziraphale. Crowley turned to face them, his grip still on Hastur’s lapels holding him to the wall.

“Let him go,” His voice was quiet and cool, but it shook with anger, with fury. Dagon got the message and released Aziraphale from her grip. Shax still held on, tightening her hand around his arm even tighter.

“No, it’s not fair! We have been here for you your entire life, we are family! Still, you go off with this fag-” She didn’t get to finish her complaint because Crowley had let go of Hastur to yank her hair to face him, pulling her up until she started ti yelp in pain.

“Say one more thing about him and I swear to God you won’t live to say another sentence. Do you hear me?”

“Yes! YES I DO! Please let go, Crowley! You’re hurting me!” He showed no sign of letting go, pulling tighter until her screams filled the kitchen.

“Crowley stop!” Aziraphale finally found his voice again, the shock having taken it as he watched Crowley fight and hurt and yell at his friends for him. Crowley seemed to have finally realised that Aziraphale had always been there, watching his violent outburst. He let go of Shax, her immediately rubbing her scalp.

“Let’s get out of here. The people here are shit,” He scowled at each of his friends before grabbing Aziraphale’s hand and leading him out into the night.

Chapter Text

They left the house, the street altogether, not bothering to stop and say hello to Anathema and Newt, who had dressed up like Mavis and Jonathan from Hotel Transylvania or to Nina and another girl both in nun costumes. They both ran, not wanting to chance the fact Ligur or Hastur might chase them until they were out of breath and far away enough from the house they couldn’t hear the blaring music anymore. It was only then when Crowley stopped to look at Aziraphale.

“Angel, I am so sorry. They are such pricks. You didn’t deserve that, you were having fun and they ruined it like the assholes they are,” Aziraphale didn’t bother to scold the use of language, instead throwing himself onto Crowley and holding him tight, to make sure he was real. Crowley wordlessly wrapped his arms around him as well, burying Aziraphale closer to him. He smelt like alcohol and smoky with the constant underlining of cigarettes and he wouldn’t want it any other way. He was here, he had saved him and cost himself lifelong friendships. He didn’t want to pull back, but he knew he would break down again and crying in front of Hastur, Ligur, Dagon and Shax was bad enough.

“The good thing is when you saved me when you did,”

“I should’ve been there earlier, they wouldn’t have dared to tried anything-”

“Crowley. It’s fine. It’s in the past now. You did everything you could,” Crowley stopped rambling, his eyes watering slightly. Aziraphale took off the glasses he had on, that way he could make eye contact with him. “Look at me. I’m fine,” Crowley nodded, wiping his tears before they got down his cheek any further.

“Did they say anything, as to why they did that,” Aziraphale stiffened slightly under him as he thought back to what they had said.

‘This is our best friend and he left us for you’

‘Gets them to think about their good for nothing Lord as I take what I want’

‘You don’t seem like his type at all’

‘He wants to shag you badly and we can’t quite figure out why considering you’re so soft and dull’

‘He wants to shag you badly and we can’t quite figure out why’

‘He wants to shag you’

Should he tell him everything, about what they said about him, about them? He had to have noticed the tension between them, like they were one centimetre away from making an impulsive and bad decision every time they talked, especially today. It would certainly get them to talk about it, and if they did what would he say? He shook his head, looking back up at Crowley.

“Just that it was my fault you stopped spending time with them,”

“Like they have any authority on how or who I spend my time with,” Crowley tsked, feeling his anger rise once more. “Look, we don’t need to have this ruin our night. I know some place we can go, just us or we can head back to mine. It’s only 11pm,” Aziraphale nodded and smiled.

“I’d like that very much,” Crowley responded with one of his own smiles

“Looks like we’ve got a drive ahead of us,”

They made their way to the car and Crowley started driving them to the outskirts of town, where big sloping hills enclosed them from the rest of England. They made a quick pit stop to a local Spar shop to pick up some snacks considering they hadn’t eaten since 6pm at the mall. Crowley also used his fake ID he had since he was 14 to procure them some alcohol and buy himself a packet of cigarettes, despite the owner knowing damn well Crowley had been 18 for 4 years now but too hungover to care. Not like he could expose him either, having to deal with the scarier of the Crowley’s if the news got leaked.

They walked with the bags full of snacks and substances up a hill that led into some forested area. A second before Aziraphale was going to ask where exactly they were going, the trees thinned out and opened to an enormous open field with lots of different wildflowers around them and a beautiful view of most of Tadfield.

“Oh wow, Crowley this is beautiful,” Aziraphale turned to look at Crowley, who had taken his hands out of his pockets to lay down some pre-prepared blankets and set up their space overlooking their town. He shrugged, trying his best to open the bottle. Aziraphale came next to him and sat down.

“So, is this the famous field where you get ‘pissed’ as you say,” Crowley snorted and shook his head, getting the lid off. He took a swig of the beer before passing it over for Aziraphale to try (He didn’t like it very much).

“God no. This is just somewhere I go for some quiet. That field is on the other side of town. I find that all my troubles seem quite small up here,” He looked down reminiscently down the hill to Tadfield, taking another gulp of beer. He passed it back, only to open the pack of cigarettes and place one between his lips. He searched for his lighter in the pocket of his emergency leather jacket he kept in the back at all times to light it.

“May I?” Aziraphale said, having gained a burst of confidence. Crowley nodded, passing the lighter to him.

“You gotta shield it from the wind,” They both enclosed their hands around it and neither pulled away from the other’s touch. Once lit, Crowley took a long drag, breathing it out blissfully. He offered it to Aziraphale, phone in hand ready to record.

“Ready for bad decision number two?” Aziraphale felt emboldened by the small amount of alcohol on his system and he grabbed the cigarette between two fingers like Crowley does.

“How does this work again?” He asked, examining it as Crowley explained from behind the phone.

“Suck on it a bit like you do with a straw but not too much, don’t want you choke, then blow out the smoke after a while,” Aziraphale put it to his lips, trying not to feel for Crowley’s mouth as he did. Unlike the vodka, it didn’t go as smoothly as he hoped, as he started coughing almost immediately after it entered his mouth. Crowley laughed from behind the camera.

“That is awful, how do you do it?” Crowley flipped the camera so both were seen and set it down.

“You get used to it. Besides, I think it makes me look mysterious and tortured,”

“The only thing being tortured here, dear are your lungs and the mystery is how they haven’t given up on you yet,” Crowley led the cigarette to his lips, smacking his heart with both hands and falling backwards to look up into the sky

“How you wound me angel! So mean to a poor soul!” Aziraphale rolled his eyes affectionately at his antics and stopped the camera. He joined him, looking up to the sky. He tried the cigarette a few more times before it had finished, getting more used to the feeling and the lightheadedness that came after it.

They just laid by each other under the stars, under God and yet no thunder struck them as they smoked and drank. They were being humans. Dumb, stupid teenager humans who will regret their actions in the morning and Aziraphale felt slightly at peace with not caring what a man in the sky might think. It was after a while when either of them spoke up.

“Angel?”

“Hm?” He responded. Crowley paused, as if debating whether he should speak again.

“Are the stars out?” Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows at the question. He looked up to check and yes they were there, though Crowley would probably know more about each one.

“Yes?” Crowley gulped as he asked his next question.

“Can you describe them?” At his question, Aziraphale propped himself up on one elbow. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses so why couldn’t he see them?

“What do you mean, dear? Can’t you see-” It was only when Crowley closed his eyes as a tear ran down his face “Oh,”

“Yeah. Oh ,” Crowley stood up so he was sitting. He tucked his legs under his chin and turned away from Aziraphale.

“You can’t see them, can you?” Crowley didn’t move for a moment, before lowering his legs so he was sat cross-legged.

“You know my condition-”

“Schmid-Fraccaro” Crowley looked at him “I searched it up the day you told me. For research in ways I can make things a bit easier for you. In any way,” Crowley looked at him with his jaw hanging slightly open. No one had ever bothered making an effort to make him feel comfortable. His own friends hadn’t bothered to hide their disgust when he first showed them and had always been a target for teasing and banter, even though he didn’t find it very funny. He regained himself, looking at Aziraphale.

“So? What did you find?”

“It can cause problems seeing clearly and in some rare cases, it can develop nyctalopia, more commonly known as-”

“Night-blindness. We have a winner!” He said, waving his hands around pathetically.

“But you love the stars,” He said lamely. Crowley just scoffed and nodded, not being able to meet his eye.

“Sometimes I think I’m being punished. Like in some other universe or dimension, I fuck up like I always do. Hang around the wrong people, ask too many questions and this is my punishment in every universe. Knowing myself, I probably was that fucking serpent in the Garden that damned all humanity and now I have to pay with the price,” Crowley tugged on his finger as he spoke, getting slightly agitated by the end as he finally spoke thoughts he never thought would be put into words. Aziraphale grabbed his hands which made him look up from the ground.

“You mustn’t think that way, Crowley,” He rolled his eyes, unable to stop them from tearing up.

“Yeah? That’s easier said than done,” He said.

“You mustn’t think that way because if in every universe you are punished, you’ll have me right by your side in all of them describing the stars to you,” Crowley felt his heart accelerate at his words. All capability to form coherent thoughts and words left the second Aziraphale vowed to be with him in every universe. How was he supposed to concentrate when his hands were caressing him and was looking at him with those baby blue eyes he could look at for hours?

“Every one?” He asked. He nodded confidently.

“Every one,”

“Even the one where I’m the Serpent of Eden?” He asked incredulously.

“Yeah. I’d be Aziraphale,” At Crowley’s confused expression, he continued “Aziraphale the angel? The person I’m named after? Principality Angel of the Eastern Gate?”

“You’d hang around a good-for-nothing demon like me, would you?” He asked, laughing the tiniest bit.

“Well, at first I’d be very cautious, obviously. Devoting myself to God but eventually we’d meet so often throughout history in loads of different places that we eventually will get to know each other a bit more. Knowing us, you’d introduce me to some new possibility or probably tempt me into indulging in some guilty pleasure like… food, most likely. Before we know it, we’ve known each other for like, 6 thousand years and wouldn’t have it any other way,” he finished and smiled at the thought.

“Wouldn’t you fall, though? I don’t suspect God would be too happy if an angel is hanging around the Original Tempter,” Aziraphale faltered slightly, looking confused for a second.

“Well, I-I would just… not mention it,” Crowley snorted at his response.

“You would lie to God?” He laughed out loud. Aziraphale looked appalled and slightly green at the thought.

“I did not say that!”

“You most certainly did!”

“No!”

“What were you gonna say? ‘I wouldn’t mention it but if He did, I’d say something else’ ,” The two boys shook with laughter, holding each other as they did.

“Oh stop it you!”

“The Original Tempter and The First Liar. That’s quite a pair,” Again, Aziraphale stared in shock.

“Why am I the first?” He exclaimed.

“I dunno. Makes you sound even cooler, I guess,” They looked at each other, trying to maintain their cool before bursting into another round of laughter that would float down to the town below and leave a pleasant atmosphere for at least the next few hours. And as the pair laughed as they looked at each other, both thought the same thing.

Yeah. I’d be with you in every universe

Chapter Text

To say Crowley was stressing would be putting it lightly. A week ago, he had brought Aziraphale to the church the day after the party, making sure he was parked around the corner and out of sight. Ever since then, he had done a thing he thought never possible: revision. His first official mocks were the week he returned back to school after half term. So Crowley found himself at his desk morning till dusk, studying and revising for his exams, much to the amazement of his father, who had never seen him pick up a pen for as long as he could remember.

Obviously, things have been easier with a certain angel texting him to encourage (read: threaten) him to revise. As much as the pair wanted to see each other over the break, Aziraphale’s father had forbidden him to leave the house, as he should focus ‘somewhere I can check on you’. That didn’t stop the pair texting each other to ask or answer questions and even Face timing a couple of times a few days after Aziraphale had asked if he could meet him, though he had pointed the camera mainly on the ceiling, where only his face was visible.

But now, he’d be able to see his best friend for the first time again. Crowley thought in amusement how he from three or four months ago would react if he knew he was excited to see Aziraphale Prince . The day passed by in a blur, with him and Aziraphale not being in any study periods together between exams and only seeing each other before an exam. Before either of them knew it, it was the end of the day and the two were back at their table like no time had passed.

They tried revising, but both kept getting sidetracked that little work was done by the first hour. It was when they were both laughing over Crowley’s surprisingly good Scottish accent he could do when he stopped abruptly and stared. Aziraphale turned around to see what he was looking at and immediately saw it. Hastur, Ligur, Shax and Dagon were sitting at another table across from them staring at them both. Aziraphale turned around, panic evident on his face.

“Why are they looking at us?” Crowley never broke eye contact with Shax, glaring at her as he shrugged.

“I dunno,” He replied briskly.

“Is it because you aren’t sitting with them?” Aziraphale questioned, turning back around to see if he could find a clue about why they were looking.

“Yeah, well I didn’t sit with them at lunch so they know they’ve fucked up,” Aziraphale looked at him confused.

“You didn’t forgive them?” This broke Crowley’s hate stare as he looked in shock.

“What?”

“For what they did. At the party. You didn’t forgive them?” Aziraphale asked again, unaware of the absurdity he had just uttered.

“What they did to you? Angel, they assaulted you. Why would I ever talk to them again? Besides, they haven’t even apologised so they ain’t hearing a word from me until they do,” He ranted and Aziraphale’s face morphed into an unidentifiable emotion.

“You mean, you aren’t speaking with them… because of me ?” He asked and Crowley nodded like it was the most obvious thing.

“Of course I’m not!” Aziraphale turned his gaze down, going back to writing but looked like he was holding back tears. “What’s wrong? Why are you sad?”

“This is all my fault,” He whispered out barely audibly.

“Excuse me?” He replied in shock.

“They said so that day, about how I’ve changed everything and made you throw out life long friendships for a person you’ve known for three months!” He said, getting more agitated.

“Now hold on-”

“It’s my fault! I’ve made you fall out with your friends and you won’t speak to them anymore-”

“Fall out ? Angel, are you listening to yourself? Yes, I may have lost some friends, but I’m not a total bellend anymore! Teacher’s don’t hate me, other students don’t fear me, I’ve got a chance of a good future because of you. Aziraphale, you’ve made me a better person. I want to be a good person because of you,” Aziraphale paused, taking in the words, as if clueless to the effect he had on him, on everyone. He looked back to the group behind him, who had stopped staring and started revising.

“Good people forgive those who are the most undeserving of forgiveness. Give them a chance, Crowley. If you can change for the better, so can they,” Crowley stared in utter disbelief. After everything they’ve said to him, after everything they had done to him, he was still so inherently good that he wants him to forgive his friends.

“You’re an angel, you know that?” He blushed, a soft smile taking his face.

“You never fail to remind me, dear,” He said. Willing every bone in his body to move, he pushed himself off the chair and stalked closer to the group. He heard them whisper something, but quietened down the second he got near. Hastur leaned back, showing off a bruise that Crowley had committed earlier that day when he tried to talk to him.

“You need something?” He asked smugly, as if he didn’t get his shit rocked just a few hours earlier.

“Look, you guys have been my friends for as long as we can all remember. We’ve had fun times as we as times I wanted to punch the shit out of you. But what you did at the party was unacceptable. Thankfully for you guys, Aziraphale is a much better person than me, as I would’ve easily not spoken to you for the rest of my life. So I am… sorry about what I did then and today. But that only applies if you guys are sorry too,” He finished off, waiting for them to reply. They pass around a look of what can only be described as astonishment and confusion over the fact he had just uttered the word ‘sorry’ and meant it. A moment passed, where Crowley debated taking it as a refusal of guilt and caused him to walk away, but Shax stood to face him.

“We… I am sorry. I organised the thing because I wanted to see you. We genuinely think we haven’t had a group hangout since the bet was made,” Crowley stiffened at the mention of the bet. Of course his pride didn’t want him to lose and his dignity couldn’t bear giving Hastur 100 quid, but his morality, something he didn’t know still had, told him it was wrong and should call it off. But that would mean he would have no excuse to see Aziraphale on weekends and after school.

“Look, it’s only a couple more months and then I’ll be back. Same old me,” She grinned, that sly smirk that made Crowley’s skin crawl. Glad to see some people never change.

He sat back down and continued studying with Aziraphale, choosing to ignore the smug look on his face when he came back. Luckily, they had no further incidents in the library, only Shax coming up to say goodbye with the rest of them, who only grunted in response. That was a couple hours ago and the two kept going, unaware of the darkening skies.

“My point is, dolphins. That’s my point. Damn big brains and not mention the whales. Brain city whales!” Crowley ranted on, having been sidetracked When Aziraphale had asked him to respond to an RS question about the morality and ethics of animal experimentation.

“That’s all well and good my dear, but we don’t use either for experiments. We use apes and other monkeys because they’re the most genetically similar species,”

“That’s my point! It’s not their fault we’re underestimating their brain size ‘cus we prefer gorillas! They go like ‘whoop!’ and they get hallucinations and the skies go red and they’re like ‘what are they putting in bananas these days?’,” Aziraphale looked on with an odd expression as Crowley explained his dolphin theory.

“And how is this relevant to the essay question?” He asked. Crowley paused for a second, releasing he had tangented once again.

“Well, I-” He was cut off by the librarian stalking towards them.

“Alright kids, it’s time to beat it,” She scratched out in a raspy voice. Aziraphale and Crowley shared a look.

“But, you don’t close until 5:30,” Aziraphale exclaimed.

“What time do you think it is? Now I have to stay late ‘cus you kids can’t be bothered to read the time. Go!” It was then when it clicked for Aziraphale and checked his watch, only for it to blink back the time.

“Oh no! I’m going to be late!” He hurriedly started to pack his items in his back, not waiting for Crowley to do the same before. He started to run down the street, blinking back tears furiously. He was going to be late. For the first time in his life he was going to miss curfew. His heart started to pound as the fear kicked in. How will his father react? He’s usually home at this time. How could he be so idiotic? He got distracted and now he was going to have to face his father. A car drove by him and stopped by his side. The window was pulled down and Crowley’s figure was revealed.

“Get in, angel,” He said. Aziraphale continued to walk, the car trailing by his side as he did so.

“What?”

“I said, get in,” He gestured to the passenger seat which was the side nearest to Aziraphale.

“I can’t I have to get home-”

“Where do you think I’m taking you?” Aziraphale’s pace faltered slightly as he processed what he had said.

“You can’t drive me to my house! What if someone recognises you? What is my father-”

“You really think you can walk a 45 minute walk in 25 minutes? It’s only 20 minutes by car and I’m driving so I can cut it down to 12 minutes, max. Come on, angel! Just get in the car,” He said once more. Aziraphae stopped, catching his breath as he went over the offer in his mind. He could make it in time, but his father will still be angry he’s so late. And there’s always the possibility he’ll spot Crowley. The real question was which consequences would he rather face. He got in the car.

“Drive,” He said and Crowley grinned as he flew them home. It was a minute or two before Crowley spoke up again.

“What are you doing this weekend?” Aziraphale turned away from the window to look at him.

“What?”

“I can tell you're nervous and I’m trying to distract you. So, what are you doing this weekend?” Aziraphale sighed before answering.

“My father is out of town, so me and my mother might go into town to a restaurant,” Crowley nodded, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Any particular reason? You celebrating something?”

“Well, I’m turning 18 so-”

“Your what !?” Crowley whipped his head around and took his hands off the wheel to face him.

“Keep your eyes on the road!” He shouted, gripping onto the hand grip above him for dear life as Crowley swerved out of the way of some bins.

“Your birthday is this weekend? Why didn’t you say anything” He asked again, turning back round to face him. He shrugged, not used to the attention he was receiving.

“I didn’t think it important, really,” He admitted and Crowley muttered and stammered out of disbelief.

“Not important? Angel, you’re turning 18! That’s pretty fucking important, I would say,” Aziraphale shrugged, not knowing what to say.

“I guess. Father’s taking me out the next weekend to help promote his campaign next year,” He said, not noticing that this was the first time either of them had mentioned the upcoming election. They stiffened, the air growing tense between the so called ‘rivals’.

“So what? He’s just going to show you off and gain sympathy votes through you like you're some show dog?”

“We will win, of course,” Aziraphale said, straightening his posture slightly. Crowley snorted, a fond smile forming on his lips

“You really believe that?”

“Obviously! Good will triumph over evil. With my father, we can ensure that good Christian values are shared to all. It’s all going to be rather lovely,” He finished, but feel Crowley rolling his eyes at the mention of religion.

“Out of interest, how many companies fund the church, ‘cus the Big Tesco is one of ours,” He said nothing, so Crowley continued on. “Uh, the post office, the bank, all the gas stations-”

“They have been useful so far, but they can easily be swayed differently. And if not they have served their purpose,”

“And you will never be able to use them again. No more corner shop sweets, no more Tesco meal deals. Just celestial harmonies from the gospel choir. And that’s just the start of what you’ll lose if you win,” Aziraphale huffed, crossing his arms and not looking in his direction. “No more study sessions and Nina’s where she knows the exact amount of eccles cakes you’d want, no more walks in the park to scare the ducks. No more old bookshops,” At this, Aziraphale’s eyes widened and looked over at Crowley shyly. He huffed out a chuckle and looked back to the road as Aziraphale said nothing more.

“Stop! We’re 5 minutes away, I can walk there so my father doesn’t see you,” Crowley nodded, not saying anything. As Aziraphale was getting out of the car, he turned to face him.

“Do you think my father will really shut down the bookshop if it doesn’t fund the church?” Crowley simply shrugged.

“Who can tell, angel? All I know is that when my father is elected, everyone can do whatever the hell they want as long as it’s not causing harm to anyone else. We certainly don’t listen to rules made from a man in the sky,” He said. Aziraphale looked conflicted, as if he had never bothered to think about the effects of Crowley’s father winning.

“Thank you for the lift, Crowley,” He said and shut the car door.

Aziraphale hurriedly jammed his keys in the lock, twisting the door knob to get inside as soon as possible. He closed the door behind him and checked his watch. 5:45pm. He breathed a sigh of relief, glad he at least made it back before 6. He looked out the window in case he could see Crowley’s car. He couldn’t, obviously, but managed to dilute his anxiety even for a little. He made his way further into his home and found his parents setting the table for dinner. His father looked up and spotted him in the doorway. He immediately stiffened up as his father’s face morphed into a scowl.

“There he is,” He checked his own watch. “15 minutes before curfew! Cutting it a bit close, son?” He asked, turning his whole body to face him. His mother stood behind him, watching the two men closely.

“Father, I am so sorry-”

“And yet you keep coming later and later. You know my feelings about the dark and how I don’t want you walking in it and you’ve disobeyed me, again!” He lunged forward, grabbing him by his collar and pulling him up and forcing him to stand on his tiptoes “Do you want to explain yourself?” Aziraphale gulped and tried to remain calm, as if his father could sense his rising anxiety like a shark smelling a drop of blood.

“I was just revising for our mocks this week with the study group I tutor,”

“Let me guess, that Newton boy was there, wasn’t he?” He shook his head furiously.

“No! No of course-” He could hardly have finished his sentence when his father pushed him against the wall, bashing his head backwards and causing a blinding streak of pain shot across his head. Somewhere very far away, he heard his mother shriek and rush towards them, only to be shoved to the ground and away from them.

“How dare you lie to me? After I give you a good life, food on the table, a roof over your head! Don’t you ever think about disrespecting me again, do you hear me,” Aziraphale nodded, only that wasn’t the correct choice and his father banged his head back against the wall one more time. He squeezed his eyes shut as his father repeated his question.

“I said, do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir! Yes I do!” He cried out, trying his best not to let the tear formed escape down his face. Thankfully, he stepped back, allowing Aziraphale to be steady on his feet, although his legs felt like they were about to collapse under him at any second.

“So, Newton was there, was he not?” His father asked again. He raised his gaze to look at his father.

“Yes, sir,”

“I knew it. I don’t like that boy. Ever since you’ve met him you’ve been leaving this house and staying at school late. How good an influence can he truly be for you, Aziraphale? His mother isn’t married, they don’t go to church, he has a girlfriend already who isn't part of the church. You have to think about these things, Aziraphale, especially considering that my campaigning for the election will be starting soon,” Aziraphale nodded, not breaking eye contact with his father but feeling himself tremble underneath his gaze.

“Yes, sir,” His father’s scowled morphed into a sickening smirk that put Aziraphale off whenever it reared its ugly head.

“I’m so glad I can always count on you, my son,”

Chapter Text

The cold crisp air of mid-November met both boys as they walked out of their final mock exam, breathing in the fresh air outside after having been trapped inside their sports hall for the last two hours having to complete their Maths exam. Aziraphale turned as Crowley yelled loudly in celebration of having completed the last exam.

“Fuck yeah! We did it, angel!” He exclaimed happily, holding up his hands for a high five which Aziraphale happily gave.

“You have no idea how glad I am that it’s finally over. That last question was so hard,” He said. The exam finished around 20 minutes before the end of the school day, but the sixth formers were allowed to go home now if they wished, considering no real work would get done in the 15 minutes they would be in class. The two started walking down to the parking lot side by side, figuring everyone would be too tired to look closely at them and see that the two rivals could actually stand each other.

“Oh that was utter bullshit. I know we went through that type of question yesterday but I gave up,”

“Well, that’s not important. What’s important now is that we get some well deserved rest after a long week,” Crowley nodded, wordlessly communicating ‘ you can say that again ’. The two talked all the way to the parking lot, reviewing the answers they had gotten for each question. They walked up to Crowley’s car, neither of them moving to say goodbye. Finally, after the conversation had died down and it felt like the time to say goodbye, Crowley spoke up.

“Do you wanna come round mine? My dad’s gone for the weekend, he left this morning. Plus I can drive you back to yours like I did Monday so your dad doesn’t get too suspicious,” Aziraphale’s stomach involuntarily did a little flip. Like Crowley’s father, his father had also left this morning, so he didn’t really have much to worry about there, but the fact Crowley thought of it made him feel the tiniest bit hot. He nodded, going around the car to get in.

“He’s not here, so we don’t need to worry. But, I’d love to, dear,” He looked around to see if anyone was looking, and got in when he saw no one.

They arrived a short while later and got in the house after Crowley allowed Azirphale some time to regain himself, still not being used to Crowley’s insane driving speeds. They took off their coats and shoes and headed further in the house.

“You hungry, angel? I think we still have some leftover banana bread we made a few nights ago plus some chocolates” Crowley watched as Aziraphale's eyes lit up at the sound of banana bread.

“Oh yes please. That would be wonderful,” Crowley nodded and headed to the kitchen only to be stopped by the sound of Aziraphale’s voice “Do you have a landline or a house phone, perhaps? I should probably call my mother to let her know I’m at ‘Newt’s’,” Aziraphale asked. Crowley thought for a moment before responding.

“I think there's one in my father’s study. It’s on the first door on the right on the first floor,” Aziraphale’s body stiffened and his eyes went a little wide with panic. “What is it?”

“Your father’s study? As in, Aleistar Crowley’s study? The study of Aleistar Crowley?” He stammered out.

“He’s not the boogeyman, angel. He’s my father. It’s fine,” He turned around to continue his way to the kitchen when he heard the sound of Aziraphale’s footsteps running up to him until they stopped beside him.

“Are you sure your father won’t mind? It’s just, mine gets very angry if anyone goes in without him and-”

“Yes angel it’s fine. I go in all the time and whenever Hastur and them lot come ‘round, they go in all the time and he doesn’t care,” Crowley tried to reassure him,

“Yes but those are your demon friends which your father approves of. I am a Prince ,” Crowley sighed and stopped to take his glasses off, forcing Aziraphale to look at him.

“Aziraphale, it is fine. It’s not like you’re ransacking his office, you are just using the phone. I’ll join you in a minute. Now, go,” he pointed up the stairs.

Aziraphale paused for a moment. He felt his heart try and beat out of his chest. What would his father say? He’s only just gotten used to being in the Crowley residence, but to enter Aleistar Crowley’s study, it felt wrong and illegal. He looked into Crowley’s eyes, which were full of determination and the tiniest bit of annoyance. He released the breath he had been holding and turned around to make his way upstairs.

He muttered ‘this is fine ’ continuously under his breath as he made his way up and navigated his way to the study. The door loomed shut and he suddenly felt very small. He shook his head, his internal Crowley voice scolding him for being so scared and encouraging him to live and rebel. Part of him wished it was locked, but it fell open easily in his hands. He walked in and had to maintain a chuckle for the irony.

Both his father’s and Crowley’s father’s study were practically identical, with three walls of bookshelves tightly packed with many books and encyclopaedias and a large ornate desk in front of a window to create a shadow of the person sitting behind it of the sun were to shine through. Who would’ve thought that two men who hated each other because they couldn’t be more different had near similar work areas? Of course, they had some differences. Whilst his father preferred an old, wooden workstation and shelves, Crowley’s father carried over the dark and modern feel from the rest of the house in his work area. He spotted the family picture Crowley had mentioned late October facing towards him and he had to congratulate Crowley for his very accurate description.

He could easily see the family resemblance, all three of them sharing pale skin and defined bone sculpture that made them appear royal and menacing. This was the Crowleys he was used to: Tall, dark and menacing. Who are nothing more than sinners trying to stray this good Christian town into the path of sin with their illogical rules and agenda. Mr Crowley was facing forward, directly at the person looking at the photo whilst Crowley and Beatrice were at a slight angle, with their body towards their father but head angling forward. It felt strange, this version of the photo, having seen the real representation of this family. Crowley isn’t almost doubled over his father’s shoulder and Beatrice stands tall and straight, not squatting down as her legs give in. And most importantly Mr Crowley, whose eyes are missing that playful mischievous glint as he looked away from his kids in order to try and compose himself.

Aziraphale’s stomach churned as his eyes reluctantly formed tears. Every photo he could think of in his house felt… fake . Forced, rigid and cold. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed with his parents, or when talking to his siblings didn’t feel like walking on eggshells, where one small action or a slip of the tongue would result in weird looks being passed around like ‘ poor soft Aziraphale, not ready for the big boy world ’. He didn’t like to think about it the first time he saw the photo and he didn’t like to think about it now on how the Crowley’s seemed so much happier and comfortable, despite being the bad guys.

He walked round the desk, grabbing the house phone and dialling his house number. The phone rang once, then twice, and then his mother’s voice hit his ears.

“Hello, this is the Prince residence. How may I help you?”

“Mother, it’s me,” He said.

“Aziraphale? How are you calling me?” His mother’s voice was riddled with anxiety and confusion and he felt the slow stitch of guilt forming in his stomach.

“I’m at Newt’s house. He invited me to celebrate and unwind after a long week. I hope that’s alright,” He paused, waiting for his mother’s response and physically relaxed when he heard her sigh.

“Oh, alright. As long as your safe,”

“Of course. And I’ll only be gone for an hour and I’ll be back in time for tea,” He looked up at the sound of the door opening. Crowley stepped in, with a plate of banana bread and some Snickers and Mars bars that came from a box of Celebrations. He opened his mouth as if to speak but he hurriedly pointed to the phone to which he mouthed the word ‘chocolates’ whilst pointing at the plate.

“I’m glad you’re having fun with your friend. I personally think that Newton boy is brilliant. I’ll see you soon, my miracle,” He brought his attention back to his mother at the sound of her pet name.

“What? Oh yes. I’ll see you soon. I love you,”

“I love you too,” He heard the phone line go dead and he put the phone back. He felt a little guilt for lying to his mother, but she was happy that he had a friend, not necessarily that he was friends with Newton. He came back around the desk and grabbed a slice of the bread, moaning slightly at the taste.

“Did you say you made this?” Crowley felt his cheeks heat up, choosing to ignore the noise Aziraphale had made.

“Me and my dad. We try to have a father-son moment every now and then,” He finished it off, licking his fingers, completely unaware of the effect he had on Crowley.

“Well, this might be the way to my heart. This is scrumptious ,” He turned around to look closer at the books lining the wall. Crowley released the breath he had been holding, allowing himself a moment to recompose himself. Oblivious to Crowley’s struggle, Aziraphale approached one of the bookshelves, tilting his head to read the spine.

“This is quite the collection. Does your father read a lot? Aziraphale asked. Crowley approached him, looking at the books he was looking at.

“Kinda. He loves collection first editions so a lot of these are for show,” Aziraphale whipped his head to look at him.

“Wait. These are all first editions?” He shrugged.

“I guess,” Aziraphale’s eyes widened in awe and then excitement as he found a title that he loved.

“Will your father mind if I have a… look?” He asked. Crowley knew that he did. He wouldn’t mind just coming in here but handling ancient copies that cost a fortune would probably make him mad. Crowley took one look at Aziraphale’s hopefully face and his heart melted. How could he say no to his angel?

“Of course, angel. Just be careful,” He shot him a look, as if to say ‘Please, as if that isn’t obvious ’. He carefully extracted a copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland caressing the cover in wonder of its condition. Crowley’s heart began to beat faster as he saw Aziraphale’s joy at just holding the book. He wanted his eyes to take a photo, to never forget him when he’s like this. No worries about grades, no worries about a white man in the sky, no worries about his father’s views. Just pure and unbridled excitement. He looked through pages one by one and gasped in shock.

“Oh my God, it’s signed,” He whispered out in disbelief.

“Is that… good?” Aziraphale was pulled from the book to nodded ferociously.

“Yes! This is Lewis Carroll’s only copy that’s signed by her. It’s so rare that it’s thought of as a myth, this is just incredible!” He traced the signature with his fingers, feeling the groove and indent it made. He breathed in deeply and put it back with a sad smile on his face. He turned to face Crowley, who looked at him with an odd expression he couldn’t name. It felt like he was Crowley’s sole focus and he was being admired. That’s probably wrong, however. Crowley probably thought it strange about his reaction to a signature.

“Is everything okay?” Aziraphale's question shook Crowley out of his haze, and he became aware he was staring at him with a dopey smile, looking like an idiot. Crowley didn’t break eye contact, just nodding with that lopsided grin on his face.

“Never better,”

It had been a couple hours since Aziraphale had left, saying he wanted to spend some time with his mother. They had set up plans to see each other the next day, where Crowley planned to celebrate his birthday with him, though he didn’t share anything he had planned to Aziraphale, much to his annoyance. He got up from his bed and dialled his father’s number as he headed to his study. His father picked up quite quickly and started to speak.

“Anthony? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. My charger ain’t working anymore. Y’know if there’s some in your study?” He asked, already rifling through the desk drawers as he knew the answer.

“Yeah. They should be in the top drawer on the right. Pick anyone for now and then I’ll check out yours to see what’s the problem,” He fished one out, inspecting before shutting the drawer closed.

“Found one. Cheers, dad,”

“No problem. Is there anything else you need,” He was about to say no when he stopped mid sentence. His eyes landed on the book Aziraphale had picked up earlier, not as far pushed in as the others which made it appear to have a spotlight shone upon it.

“Actually, yeah. Could I take one of your books?” He asked. He heard his father inhale a sharp breath.

“Depends which one and why,” He said. He came closer to the shelf and plucked the book out of the shelf.

“ Alice’s Adventure in Wonderland ,”

“The one that’s signed and thought of as a myth in the book world?” Crowley smiled, thinking back to Aziraphale who used the exact same words.

“That’s the one,” His father breathed down the other end of the line and Crowley felt the hope in his heart dwindle slightly.

“Why?”

“Anathema came over the other day and she loved it. It’s her birthday soon and-”

“And you want me to give away a precious artifact for a girl you’ve known for three months?” Crowley cringed at his father’s change in tone, already putting the book back.

“Yes?” A moment passed and Crowley lost all hope. As he turned to head out, his father sighed, and he could picture him taking off his glasses to rub his eyes like he did when Crowley was being difficult and was giving in.

“Would she be okay with it being lended to her for three months?”

Chapter Text

Aziraphale yawned widely as he wrapped his coat tighter around himself as he tried his hardest to not get bit by the November chill of the early morning. He sighed heavily, noting how his breath condensed quickly after coming out of his mouth. He regretted not wearing heavier layers as his extremities like his fingers and nose were becoming increasingly colder to the point they stung in the cold. He looked down the street, huffing when Crowley’s car didn’t appear magically. It wasn’t early per say, with it only being 8am and he usually got up at around 7:30 during the weekends but sleep tried to close his eyes shut.

He had asked his mother if it was alright with her if he spent today celebrating his birthday with ‘Newt’ and a look of sadness washed over her eyes. It immediately made him feel awful, and it didn’t go away when she said it was alright and to not worry about her. He laid awake that night, his eyes refusing to close and his mind refusing to quieten down. He thought back to merely a month ago, when he was in the same situation about whether he should go out on Saturday. A little voice in his head reminded him, however, that he did end up going and he got to see Crowley’s eyes for the first time and caused the fact he can call him Crowley in the first place. So he placed his shame and guilt away from him to the farthest corner of his mind and tried his best to keep himself warm in the cold. Finally, after what seemed like hours but couldn’t have been a couple of minutes, Crowley’s car came speeding around the corner, a Best of Queen collection playing loudly enough that he could hear it. 

The second the car stopped, Aziraphale jumped in, sighing in content as the warmth covered him completely and blessing the creator of seat heaters. Before he had a chance to fully buckle himself in, Crowley put the car in drive and flew down the street.

“Where were you? It’s freezing out there!” He said, sighing and trying to look out the frosted window. Without bothering to answer his question, Crowley started to sing, making Aziraphale jump in surprise.

“Happy birthday to you!-“

“Oh Crowley please-“

“Happy birthday to you-“

“Is this really necessary-“

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR ANGEL! Happy birthday to youuuuuu !” He held the last, off-tune note before reaching around behind him and grabbing a box with ‘Give me Coffee or Give me Death’s’ logo on it.

“You know it’s not my actual birthday yet, right?” He asked, opening the box just for a dozen eccles cakes to greet him.

“I know, but we’re celebrating it today, aren’t we? I stopped by Nina’s to get you a little something. Also, I am not used to waking up so goddamn early on a Saturday. Seriously, my dad thought he had woken up in an alternate dimension when he saw me for breakfast” Aziraphale chose to enjoy the flavour of the sweetness of the cakes instead of festering his annoyance.

“Okay, I forgive you for making me wait. Thank you for these, they are always so good,” He moaned out, taking another bite. Crowley shrugged indifferently but his cheeks had a spread of colour and his hand was gripping the coffee cup dangerously tight as he took a sip. 

“Which leads me to my next question: If you don’t like waking up so early, why did you plan for us to meet so early?” He asked. Crowley just grinned, a grin that told Aziraphale he knew something he didn’t.

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?” Aziraphale groaned in dismay.

“Wait and see? Don’t you know how frustrating that is, dear?” He just cackled in response, actively avoiding his eyes in case he caved in and told him what he had planned.

“Oh, I like frustration. Big frustration fan, me,” He chose not to fight any longer, choosing to pull out his copy of Wuthering Heights and continue reading about Heachcliffs affairs. It was only after half an hour when he realised they were still in the car and nowhere near their destination if what Crowley said was true. He looked up, his confusion amplifying as he saw that they were on a highway with dozens of other cars.

“Crowley, where exactly are we headed?” Crowley said nothing, opting to screech the high note in Bohemian Rhapsody. “Crowley . Where are we going?” Crowley noticed the change in tone and finally met his gaze.

“Well I was going to let it be a surprise,” He paused to let Aziraphale interject and accept the surprise but continued on when Aziraphale said nothing “But since you’re so boring, we’re going to London,”

“LONDON ! Why are you taking us to London?”

“Because you said you’ve never left Tadfield before. You’re eighteen and the first time you left your hometown was a month ago. Look, your dad ain’t home, you told your mom you're gonna be late. We purposely left early so we’d be back early. You’re finally eighteen, angel, enjoy it!” Aziraphale tried his hardest to repress his worry, torn between hoping Crowley was joking and turning the car around or to urge him faster, faster and away from him. Suddenly feeling very car sick, he placed his book back in his bag and said nothing more, biting his nails as he did so.

Observant as always, Crowley spared him a sidelong glance, picking up his tense body language and panic flickering across his gaze. Without thinking about it, he took Aziraphale’s hand in his mouth and held it in his own. Aziraphale whipped his head around at the sudden contact, surprise evident on his face.

“Do you trust me?” Aziraphale couldn’t move, his brain processing Crowley’s words a minute after the fact.

“What did you say?”

“I said, do you trust me?” Crowley had his eyes off the road, which would normally scare the life out of him, but he had never found himself more at peace in this moment. With the unknown ahead of him but Crowley by his side, holding him, grounding him to this moment. Taking away all of his worries with a simple gesture that most likely meant nothing to him. He nodded, barely mustering out a ‘yes’ in response. Crowley nodded and looked back at the road, his hand still holding Aziraphale.

“ Aladdin ! That’s a movie we could watch sometime,” He said, and Aziraphale smiled, feeling at ease.

Things weren’t weird, right? Like, holding your best friend’s hand when he’s nervous doesn’t have to mean anything, right? It’s totally normal. More than normal! Shows he cares about him. But not like that, 'cus that would make it weird,right? Were his hands sweaty? Why were his hands so sweaty? There’s no need for his hands to be sweaty in a totally fine and ordinary situation. Or were they not sweaty enough? What if Aziraphale thought he had abnormally dry hands? What if he did not like his hands? Why, dear fucking God, why hasn’t he pulled away yet?

These were just some of the thoughts racing through Crowley's mind as he focused on driving them to London. He praised the high speed limit on highways, allowing him to go as fast as he prefers to try and wipe his mind of all the indecent thoughts racing in his mind. The road sign leading to London couldn’t come fast enough and before either of them knew it, they were in the middle of Regent St, trying to find a Premier Inn to park the car. All the while, Aziraphale stared with wide eyes at the plethora of people outside, refusing to let go of Crowley’s hand. Depending on how you look at it, Crowley found the Premier Inn and parked the car, fortunately letting go of Aziraphale’s hand as he did so.

They got out of the car and started wandering aimlessly down the street, carefully manoeuvring themselves in and out of people’s way but remaining as close as possible. They looked in the windows of the shops, laughing for no reason at the strange poses the shops had put the mannequins in. They stopped for a moment as Crowley pulled out his phone to check the time.

“Alright, I have reservations for lunch at 1pm, which means we’ve got 2 hours to do whatever you wish angel,” They started walking down the street once more as Aziraphale thought about what they could do.

“Well, I don’t know. I’ve never been here. I was hoping you’d be the expert,” Crowley shrugged, not looking in his direction and Aziraphale allowed himself to indulge in his sight. His sharp jawline was evident when he turned his head, his defined nose, high cheekbones and fiery red hair that was getting longer and longer by the moment. Aziraphale’s hand itched to grab and caress his face, to see if his face fits in his hand as perfectly as his hand did. He was pulled from his staring as Crowley turned to face him once more. 

“Well, there’s St James Park, that’s near Buckingham Palace. Or we could get the tube to go to the London Eye or a museum. Whatever you wish,” Aziraphale thought for a moment before responding.

“Depends what is closer to wherever the restaurant is, my dear,” Aziraphale said softly and Crowley gulped.

“Well St James Park is the nearest. I know the Natural History Museum is near a tube station so we can visit that if you’d like,” Aziraphale said nothing, only holding up his arm as he waited for Crowley to grab onto it.

“Shall we?”

They walked around St James Park, talking about nothing and everything whilst Crowley introduced Aziraphale to the wonderful game of people watching. They sat in the park, making up backstories and fake scenarios for the people passing by them. Aziraphale closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the rare British sun hit his face. Crowley’s words got caught in his throat as he looked at Aziraphale. 

He looked absolutely ethereal, like always. It seemed as if the heavens had opened up to take the purest, most wonderful being back home and Crowley wanted nothing more to hold on to him, to keep him close. He saw Aziraphale’s shoulders relax and a wistful sigh leave his mouth. This is how he should be, always free of worry and fear of what his family would think. He could just picture him years in the future, fussing over old books and sushi restaurants and if Crowley allowed himself to hope, he’d be there too. Right by his side like it always was, and always should be. He coughed, catching Aziraphale’s attention and pointed slyly to two men standing next to each other.

“Alright you see those two fellas over there?” Crowley pointed out, and Aziraphale strained to see them, spotting them at last. They were speaking to each other but weren’t looking in each other’s direction. They stood tall in indifferent clothing, completely ordinary and wouldn’t cost anyone a second glance 

“They are actually tea thieves that are addicted to Yorkshire tea and want to steal every last Yorkshire Tea from London to feed their own addiction,” He whispered in his ear and Aziraphale rolled his eyes at his ‘deduction’.

“Tea thieves? Really?” He asked incredibly. Crowley nodded vehemently.

“Yeah! They have to meet in public to share plans because walls have ears. Well, I guess not walls in this case but ducks have ears. Do ducks have ears? Must do, that’s how they hear other ducks,” Aziraphale paid no mind at Crowley’s ramblings, a soft smile growing as Crowley spoke. He found that he had that effect on him. Filling him with warmth and comfort just by talking about anything.

“What about us then?” Crowley stopped his duck speech and looked at Aziraphale.

“Whatcha mean?” He asked. Aziraphale shrugged slightly.

“If it wasn’t tea thieves meeting in secret and it’s us standing at the lake feeding ducks bread, what story would you make up for us?” Crowley paused to think about it for a moment.

“Well I’d make the assumption we aren’t very nice, cus you don’t feed ducks bread, you feed them grapes so they don’t get bloated and shit,” Aziraphale made an ‘of course’ face and Crowley continued on. “We’d probably be friends, but other people wouldn’t like that so we’d have to meet in secret,” At that moment, one of the men actually looked at the other as he held a loose piece of paper in his hand. Both boys watched the interaction as the  men seemed to share some heated words before one stormed off in a hurry, not stopping when he walked into a bush.

“And then one day, I say something stupid or ask for something ridiculous and you’d storm off in a huff thinking we’ll never speak again only for me to show up at you window and do the stupid apology dance and make up like always,” Aziraphale said nothing, watching as the other man looked at the other and silently wiping a tear and walking the other way, glancing behind him to see if the other was there and turning silently when he wasn’t.

“What do you think he asked for?”

“I dunno, angel. Probably asked for some Lipton tea instead,”

Aziraphale listened intently at Crowley’s rant about how any British museum couldn’t actually be considered British considering almost all the artifacts were stolen from various other places and needed to be returned to their proper owners as they walked up the steps into the Natural History Museum. As much as he enjoyed listening to Crowley speak, his ears defended when he saw the fist huge whale skeleton that greeted all that entered inside. Having never stepped foot outside his home for the first 17 years of his life, he was wholly unprepared to the fossils and skeleton the museum offered to all who walked in. Crowley stopped his rant, flicking his eyes back and forth with a little grin on his face.

“Angel? You listening?” Aziraphale snapped out of his trance at the sound of his voice.

“What? Oh yes, of course my dear,” Crowley snorted, silently leading him to another exhibition.

“Just wait until you see Hope, angel,” Aziraphale’s confusion bloomed, unsure of what animal Crowley was referring to. Thankfully, his knowledge of species was solidified as he recognised that Hope wasn’t a hope but a skeleton of a massive Blue Whale, which left him dumbfounded at the sight. Crowley insisted they take a photo, which caused Aziraphale to have to stand awkwardly in front of the skeleton whilst the other laughed at him and his awkwardness. 

They walked through various exhibitions, finally ending up in the dinosaur section. The room was quiet, as tourists and visitors took in the dinosaur’s magnificent and arresting presence, despite the fact they weren’t alive. Aziraphale paused to look at the skeleton of a triceratops with its child. A wave of sadness washed over Aziraphale, sympathy for life being taken too soon causing him to stop, and slightly construct the flow of traffic, and just think . About previous generations, previous species all lost in time. It’s one of the reasons he found books so interesting. A record of humanity, in his hands. It could be a person’s thoughts, feelings, ideas, making up for the millions of generations lost. It made him feel important, carrying on a legacy to ensure no one is forgotten. Crowley slid up next to him, but looking at him instead of the mother and child.

“What are you thinking about, angel?” He leaned in close to whisper in his ear and Aziraphale felt the rush of blood spread across his face as he felt Crowley’s breath along his neck.

“It’s nothing really… Just taking it all in,” He looked at Crowley with a bright smile. He grabbed his hand without thinking, bringing it close to his chest. Crowley sucked in a breath, not taking his eyes off their joined hands.

“This is the best birthday I could have possibly asked for. Truly Crowley, I am so grateful,” Crowley lifted his head slightly, and Aziraphale had the strongest urge to damn those sunglasses, obstructing his view of his eyes, but most importantly, of him. The eyes are the window to the soul after all. Awkwardness hung around them as Crowley pulled his hand away and looked back at the dinosaur, not responding to Aziraphale.

“I don’t know if you could’ve guessed, but I’ve never been to a museum before,” 

“Yeah, I figured,” Aziraphale just nodded slightly, pursing his lips shut.

“My father would go mental if he knew I was here, in a museum of all places!,” He half whispered in anxious glee. He saw Crowley’s eyebrows furrow in conclusion.

“What? Why?” Crowley turned to face him and a slight panic set in Aziraphale.

“Ah… it’s not important really,” Crowley said noting, only arching an eyebrow that swayed Aziraphale to continue talking. “Alright but you have to promise not to laugh,” Crowley looked only slightly confused before doing a zipping motion over his lips with his hand.

“I promise angel,” Aziraphale shifted his weight from foot to foot, debating one last time if he should say this.

“Alright, so basically my father doesn’t like museums because they are misguided from the Bible’s teachings. Suggesting evolution and past species instead of God creating all beings in… well the beginning,” Crowley leaned back slightly before his shoulders started to shake slightly from a silent laughter.

“Wait, ha, wait. Does your father not… believe in the dinosaurs? Aziraphale said nothing, looking away in embarrassment as a loud cackle escaped Crowley, causing the other visitors to look in their direction.

“John fucking Prince, second most revered man in all of Tadfield. A man put in a position of power doesn’t believe in the dinosaurs !” Crowley was shaking violently with laughter, uncaring to the dirty looks he got from the other visitors. Aziraphale tried to calm him down as much as possible.

“Don’t laugh! You promised!” Crowley didn’t stop cackling and in spite of himself, Aziraphale started to feel the corners of his mouth pull up with Crowley.

“I’m a demon, I lied! I cannot believe this!” He clapped his hand over his mouth in an attempt to stifle the laugh coming out of his mouth. When he seemed to calm down for just a moment, he looked at Aziraphale with an odd glimmer in his eyes.

“Wait, if you used to believe and do everything your father says, does that mean that at some point, you didn’t believe in dinosaurs?” A moment paused where Aziraphale internally winced. He barely got to stammer out his rebuttal before Crowley’s laugh quite literally knocked him off balance and he stumbled to keep upright.

“Oh my God, you don’t believe in dinosaurs!” He shouted, filling the entire hall with his revelation and laughter. Aziraphale prayed he’d quieten down as the odd looks they were receiving grew in size as Crowley continued shaking.

“Sh! It’s not funny, I believe in dinosaurs now !” That was clearly the wrong thing to say as Crowley’s laughter only increased in volume. Aziraphale tried to remain serious but found himself letting out a giggle at the absurdness of this situation.

Both boys were still laughing, practically doubled over in laughter next to the triceratops when two muscled men approached them and grabbed them by the crack in their elbows and started dragging them out of the exhibit. The laughter died down at the contact and Crowley looked at them in disgust whilst Aziraphale’s anxiety settled in his chest.

“Woah, woah, woah! What the fuck's going on?”

“We got a complaint that two delinquents were causing a disturbance. I see that she was right,” Despite the fact that statement was meant to scare and shame the two boys, Crowley tipped his head back in laughter.

“What fucking bitchass Karen reported us for laughing?” He looked at Aziraphale, who despite the growing anxiety within him, managed to share a smile which caused him to silently laugh once more.

“Get out of here! And don’t come back or try anything funny, got it?” They were taken to the door and shoved out into the fresh air. A moment of silence where Aziraphale’s heart started to race in panic and anxiety at the thought of being in trouble with the law. He looked up from the ground to see Crowley doing the same. They met each other's eye and couldn’t contain it anymore and for no reason at all, started their way to the reserved restaurant laughing their heads off.

Crowley forced them to film one of his ‘sin vids’ as he liked to call them, pridefully preening in the fact he got Aziraphale kicked out of an establishment for the first time. After the appropriate amount of eye rolling and fond smiles necessary when your best friend takes pride in your misdemeanour, the boys got back on the tube, where Aziraphale started to ask about their reservation, which Crowley responded with ‘nothing big’.

Aziraphale had expected a small restaurant, where they would get something quick to eat and would let them be on their merry way in no time by the way Crowley was acting so calm. What Crowley’s demeanour failed to share was that the ‘nothing big’ establishment he had booked was THE RITZ ! Aziraphale’s jaw dropped when Crowley strode into the restaurant like it was the bloody Ritz ! They had come a long way from coffee shops and hidden sushi restaurants, and Aziraphale floated through the entire interaction of being greeted, sat and served wine like a ghost. He snapped out of it when the realisation of sitting and eating at the Ritz finally set in. 

“Crowley why are we- no how are we sitting in The Ritz right now?” Crowley set down his glass he was drinking from to look at him with a shrug.

“It’s your birthday! We should celebrate properly,” Aziraphale shook his head in astonishment.

“You didn’t need to do this-”

You’re right. If I didn’t want to do it, I wouldn’t have done it, angel,” To Aziraphale’s surprise, he took his glasses off and his beautiful swirl of amber and gold that never failed to take Aziraphale’s breath away emerged. “Look, the owner of this restaurant owes my dad from getting him off a murder charge 15 years ago. I just called him up and cashed in that favour for a free meal. Now let me buy you your first legal drink that isn’t communion wine and relax ,” Aziraphale tensed up for a moment, before grabbing the glass and holding it up for a toast.

“To the world?”

“To you, angel,”

To you, my world, my angel

Chapter Text

If Aziraphale thought coffee shop pastries were scrumptious, he was entirely unprepared for the at The Ritz. He felt slightly self conscious at first, as Crowley chose to stare at Aziraphale whilst he ate rather than eat something but felt better once he told him he didn’t mind him eating as he wasn’t hungry. They shared small appetisers and Crowley ate some of Aziraphale’s main course after some convincing from Aziraphale as he had never actually seen him eat a full meal.

Like always, conversation flowed easily, causing a couple of side glances from the nearby tables as they cackled loudly over the events at the museum and other funny memories from earlier years. Aziraphale thought back just how different and opposite their lives were, despite living in the same town all their lives. In spite of himself, he found that envy festered deep in his stomach and he suddenly started regretting the prawn appetisers he had earlier. 

How was it that Anthony Crowley seemed to look back on his childhood with nostalgia in his eye and he couldn’t even stomach looking back months ago? For once, he found himself just sitting and listening to Crowley instead of the other way around. He stiffened slightly when the focus was switched back on him, and Crowley asked about his childhood. What was he supposed to say that rivalled or met weeks in the mountains skiing or staying at your residence in Brighton? Endless Sundays praying in church? Admitting that the only escape he received from Tadfield was where they spent their hours after school?

Thankfully, Crowley let it go, noticing his stuttered excuses and they paid and made their way out of the kitchen. They started down the road back to The Underground and ran to make their tube. Crowley offered Aziraphale the seat in front him, grabbing the bar over his head. Aziraphale turned his gaze down, refusing to acknowledge the blush spreading across his face at the sight of his arms strained over him.

“Will you please tell me where we are going?” Crowley smirked, shaking his head as his shoulder shook silently in silent laughter.

“And why would I ruin the fun already?”

“It’s not ruined if you tell me! I wasn’t supposed to know we were going to London and yet you told me anyway and we’re still having fun, right?”

“Exactly! I spoiled one surprise, why would I spoil another?” Aziraphale rolled his eyes fondly, only the tiniest bit annoyed he didn't know where they were going. “You’ll know soon enough, angel. We’ve got just a couple more stops until Waterloo,” Aziraphale’s mind raced to think about what could be near only to damn his lack of knowledge of London when he came up blank.

Gratefully, he found out soon enough when Crowley all but dragged him out of the station and towards the massive wheel near the River Thames. Crowley had booked tickets earlier that day so they flew past the massive queue for tickets, muttering under his breath ridiculing the British’s inane love for queues. 

They eventually got to the front of the queue, with Aziraphale suppressing his anxiety as Crowley helped him in and reassured him that everything was going to be okay. Sooner than he would’ve liked, the pod started to slowly move further away from the ground. Subconsciously, he scooted closer to Crowley as he looked timidly out the window to the crowd below. Crowley cleared his throat, making Aziraphale realise he had been grabbing onto his arm quite tightly.

“You alright there, angel?” Aziraphale’s cheeks turned a shade of red, as he let go and moved away from him, missing the body heat almost instantly.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to do that,” He chuckled nervously. Crowley said nothing, surprisingly taking off his eyes and simultaneously taking Aziraphale’s breath away with the sight of the amber swirls of his eyes. He placed the glasses on his head, pulling away the long red locks that kept falling in front of his face throughout the day.

“This hair is actually pissing me off now. I’m so close to just shaving it all off,” Aziraphale whipped his head around, unable to picture that beautiful hair being cut off. He gently grabbed one of the locks, twirling it around his fingers.

“Please don’t. It’s so beautiful long, I couldn’t bear seeing so short,” Aziraphale either didn’t see or decided not to comment on the way Crowley’s jaw tensed at the contact. His breath quickened, unable to take his eyes off of him and being allowed to stare unrestricted as he currently was fixated on his hair.

“You really like it?”

“Oh yes. I’d love to braid it some time,” Crowley was certain he was going to die in this fucking pod if Aziraphale didn’t stop being so himself and looking at his hair like it was fucking food. It was only two seconds later when his brain computed what he had just said.

“Wait, you know how to braid hair ?” Aziraphale seemed to realise both what he said and what he was doing. Immediately, he took his hands away from his hair and turned away from him in embarrassment.

“I- well I mean. Okay, most of my brother’s were so much older and didn’t want to deal with a small child and my sister’s braiding chain with her friends always meant someone wasn’t getting braided. I guess being the youngest of my brothers and not really showing any interest in sports they taught me and it… stuck,” Crowley smirk grew wider as Aziraphale kept talking, which made him blush harder than he was. “Anyways, I haven’t done it in a long time since my father got kind of mad when he found out so I doubt I’ll still be able to do it,” Crowley looked away from him, the resentment for John Prince growing every time Aziraphale mentioned his temper and his rules, which was often and not positive. 

“Oh I’m sure you can remember it for little ol’ me,” He pulled the corners of his mouth upwards, fondness growing in his chest when Aziraphale returned it with one of his soft smiles that rivalled the brightness of all the stars in this universe.

Despite having let go of the conversation of childhoods at the lunch table, he refused to overlook the obvious signs of an unhappy childhood. Every time Aziraphale’s face shifted into sadness, Crowley wanted to personally hurt everyone and anyone who even dared look at him the wrong way. He just couldn’t comprehend how anyone could willingly hurt the kindest, most compassionate being in this entire universe. But just like he could let it go earlier, he could let it go now, and store it away the next time he wanted an excuse to punch a wall.

“Oh Crowley, this has been the best day,” Aziraphale said softly, looking over the top of London as the pod made its way closer to the peak of the ferris wheel.

“I haven’t even given you your gift yet,” Aziraphale straightened up and looked back at Crowley with surprise.

“Crowley, you’ve done enough. I can’t even think about what I’d like over this day,”

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” He rummaged around the bag he had been carrying all day in search of the packaged gift. Wordlessly, he pulled it out and handed it over to the other boy, shoving it closer to him when he opened his mouth in protest, cutting off any and all rejection. He grabbed it delicately, peeling the wrapping paper off and freezing at the sight of the dusty green cover of the 1st edition Alice In Wonderland .

“Is that-” Aziraphale managed to stutter out before Crowley cut him off.

“I talked to my dad and he said that I can give it to you on a 3 month loan. Apart from that, it’s all yours angel,” Aziraphale managed to remove all of the paper, dragging his hand across the cover of the book in awe.

“I trust you’ll take good-” Crowley was unable to finish his sentence when Aziraphale threw his arms around his shoulders, nestling into the crook of his neck. Without contemplating, Crowley wrapped his arms around him fuck yes why didn’t he do this more? He felt so real, so stable and Jesus Christ smelled so good. He was internally panicking and nearly missed when Aziraphale murmured a soft ‘ Thank you ’. He managed to peel himself away for the slightest of moments, not really calming down his racing heart despite being further away.

“Oh Crowley, I don’t know what to say. This is just extraordinary!”

“You’ll have to read it to me some time,” He wished for his glasses over his eyes once more, unable to confront his feelings head on with no shield at all. Aziraphale kept looking at the cover in awe, unable to articulate just how grateful.

“Thank you, Crowley. Truly, you’ve done more for me today than anyone has ever done in my life,” He couldn’t tear his gaze from the book, flicking through the pages in disbelief as he was holding it in his hands. Crowley scooched closer, watching the blur of inked words across the paper and of course the signature that made Aziraphale pounce into his arms.

“Call it a future thank you for making me pass my A-levels,” Aziraphale looked up, his smile being wiped off in surprise at just how close the two were. Crowley’s eyes, still visible, flicked to his lips and he subconsciously licked his lip under his gaze. He felt a warmth pool below him at the choked sigh that barely escaped from Crowley.

He was right there, they were breathing the same air and Aziraphale prayed. He prayed that the thought currently racing in his head would disappear. He prayed that the thoughts of running his finger through the long locks of red as veiny hands came round his side and pulled him closer than they already were would go away.

This wasn't right. He felt dirty, ashamed and guilty. How could he betray God like this? He had been planning to be His servant until the day he died. He studied His words and the scripture, looking for himself between the hymns and harmonies and this was how he repaired Him? Aziraphale jumped back, recoiling from the warmth of Crowley as his body tempted him closer. He knew temptation must be resisted but he suddenly felt akin to Eve, eating the apple in hopes of pleasing the serpent in front of her. He found himself unable to stop the blasphemous thoughts spreading across his mind and sharp stabs of tears started to form in the corners of his eyes.

Before he could pull himself back together, the pod screeched to a halt, and Aziraphale quickly took in the fact they had arrived back to the ground. He sprang out, inhaling the dirty London air feeling cleaner than he had before. Crowley joined his side, the glasses back in place on his face and was grateful despite the feeling of loss at losing the sight of them. It was a distance between them, a social cue to friends, just friends.

They made small talk, which he absolutely despised but it was safe and normal and sinless. They eventually made it back to the car and started their way back, allowing Aziraphale to be back at home in time for tea. The hour and a half journey seemed to take ten times longer, despite the fact Crowley was driving and cutting it down to an hour’s drive. Aziraphale shut his eyes for a moment to the sound of Hozier , only to open them at the bus stop. He quickly said goodbye to Crowley, thanking him for the day and floated. 

He floated down the street, not minding the harsh winds, he floated up the stairs to his house, through the meeting with his mind through dinner and to bed. Today was… he didn’t even know what today was. It had started so well, and Crowley had planned the most amazing day just for him and he had to go and ruin it. His eyes stinged at the memory of the London Eye, shame closing his throat and dry sobs being choked up. He was so overwhelmed raking his hands over his face. He fell to the floor, frantically clasping his hands together as he shut his eyes.

He could pray what he usually did, thinking the script was like second nature ever since he had started being friends with Crowley. But that made him feel more ashamed. He didn’t deserve forgiveness, he doesn’t even care enough to beg and grovel at the foot of the bed. He was exactly the lame sheep told at the beginning of every service, he had lost his way and had no way back. He was living with the Lamb, only for it to have been a wolf. His breath shook as he tried breathing properly and not let the overwhelming fear conquer him.

Please God, tell me what to do. I feel so lost and every time I try to stay on Your path of righteousness, I just go and mess it up again. I don’t want to be dirty, I don’t want to be a sinner, I need Your help, Your guidance so I can join You in heaven. Please hear me God. I need You, God-

His phone buzzed from his bag, and he peeled his eyes open to open it. It was a message from Crowley, obviously and he hovered his finger over it. Debating no longer, he pressed it and opened the message.

my best friend in the whole wide world: heyy, so soz if i was weird or smth

my best friend in the whole wide world: i didnt mean to make you uncomfy

my best friend in the whole wide world: happy birthday angel

He found himself reading the words over and over again, but no reply came to his head. It was late and he clearly wasn’t thinking straight. He shut the phone off and looked up, being greeted with the statue of Jesus on the Cross he had hung on his wall ever since he could remember. His familiar face contorted in pain, although it appeared the eyes were no longer looking upwards to the sky but to him. Twisting and shifting at the sight of him. Dirty, worthless, pathetic him. He had interrupted his conversation with God for a text! How could he be so foolish?

Forgive me, God. Please forgive me!

His sobs filled the room as he desperately tried to muffle them, hoping, praying for a sign of salvation, anything that might make him pure again.

God stayed silent, as He so often was.

Chapter Text

Crowley was certain he had fucked up. Royally. 

For starters, he had noticed how Aziraphale all but jumped out of the pod to get away from him and his creepy moves. Seriously, could he have made it more obvious just how attracted he was to Aziraphale? Then, the angel had the nerve to lick his lips , making them gleam in the rare English sun. He had never been particularly religious, growing up as a Crowley meant the people thought your family was the incarnation of Satan himself, but dear God, did he want to get on his knees and pray to thank whatever deity had sent Aziraphale to a sinner bastard like him. The public be damned, let them witness his fevered reverence to the soft white curls in front of him.

Then, he became really closed off and didn’t mutter more than the bare minimum, which was really fucking annoying as small talk is a bitch. When they were in the car, Crowley was mentally preparing himself to talk to him. Really talk, not that small talk bullshit only for Aziraphale to be asleep! And goddamn if he didn’t look angelic. His soft lips pouting out and his brow furrowing slightly Crowley had to grip the steering wheel tighter than he had before to not swerve and crash.

By the time he had dropped Aziraphale at the bus station, got home and got ready to bed, he was ready to just punch a wall at the level of tension and stress he was feeling. He typed out the message, an apology in spirit but a babble of excuses in reality, and waited anxiously for the other boy to reply. He didn’t reply, only became active, read the message, typed out something only to delete which made Crowley throw his phone across the bloody room and groan into his pillow in agony.

He remained in said agonising state for all of Sunday, which wholly concerned his father, commenting how a zombie which had crawled out of his grave looked better than he did. He hadn’t expected a message on Sunday, considering Aziraphale went to church in the morning and evenings and helped during the middle so he wouldn’t really have a chance to whip out his phone he wasn’t supposed to have to calm Crowley’s repressed anxieties. That didn’t stop him from feeling like total shit when no message from a certain angel didn’t appear.

Then came Monday and Crowley was so close to not going in because he might’ve actually died if he saw Aziraphale. But he did, and immediately regretted it when Aziraphale passed by him without a second glance. It was part of their agreement, they could do what they liked in private, but they had to keep the enemies' appearances in public, especially in front of Crowley’s friends that stuck by his side like leeches.

“Hellooo? Earth to Crowley? Can you hear us?” Shax waved her hand in front of his face and it was moment’s like these where he wished they could still wear masks so he could easily mouth a ‘ fuck you ’ without hurting her feelings.

“Yeah I’m fucking here, Shax. Whatcha want?” He muttered, pulling his mind away from Aziraphale walking off.

“I asked if you wanted to skip first period with us?” Dagon answered from beside her. He barely opened his mouth in protest when Hastur threw an arm around his shoulder and he closed it immediately in order not to choke on his BO.

“You’ve gotten so boring lately. The least you could do is skip with us, like the good old day, ‘member?” Oh he remembered the ‘good old days’ alright. Which was surprising considering he was black out drunk in a field for most of it. He remembered showing up to sign in, only to fuck off to smoke in the middle of butt fuck nowhere, then crawl to his car to sober up in his field. Well, his and Aziraphale's field now. Despite them only going once together, he couldn't imagine the place without the angel with him.

Besides, Hastur was half right when he called him boring - which he didn’t really appreciate. He hadn’t done that sort of shit since he started seeing Aziraphale for a tutoring session. He remembered how pissed he was when Crowley had missed their first session and the dejected look in his eye when he told him he was hanging out with his friends that Crowley had made the subconscious decision to improve himself. That meant no drinking, smoking or getting high during the week or Saturdays.

But since he had fucked up, why not go back to what you know?

The school sat in the middle of Tadfield, literally. Two streets leading off to two neighbourhoods and two different people. It was metaphorically and literally a ‘No-Man Land’, where angels and demons had to co-live in harmony, or harmony-ish. Despite the fact it was one of the only good schools in the surrounding area, most parents didn’t view it as a ‘demon’ school or an ‘angel’ school, as both Prince and Crowley were sponsors and donors for the school. They went to school, learned about rocks and WWII and left, with the occasional hymn sung.

Despite being in the centre of Tadfield, it owned a massive plot of land, spanning behind the school itself and causing a bigger physical separation of the town. It was here that the demons were currently sat lounging around. Not the smartest of ideas, but Crowley couldn’t really be arsed to leave school property, considering he didn’t want any of his manky friends dirtying up his car.

He entered period one, and consciously avoided Aziraphale’s gaze, which was very hard considering he kept turning around to look at him rather unsubtly. The second Shadewell had finished doing the register, he asked to ‘go to the bathroom’ only to walk out the double doors and around to where most of his friends were already waiting for him.

He welcomed the lightheadedness of the first spliff with open arms like a father. Suddenly, Shax’s screechy voice and Hastur’s horrendous odour didn’t matter as much as they slowly faded to the back of his mind. Memories of ferris wheels and dinosaur bones were wiped from his mind as he brought the cigarette to his lips once more. 

“See? Isn’t this fun? Just like we used to!” Ligur slithered up next to him, the faint smell of alcohol already forming around him. Crowley simply nodded, unable to trust his voice to produce words and not intelligent noises. He stubbed the cigarette out, barely giving himself a moment to breath before extending his hand towards Dagon

“Gimme another one,” He grumbled.

“Woah! Someone had a bad weekned, huh?” She teased him but passed him another without much resistance.

“Yeah, I guess,” He mumbled with the cigarette poking out of his mouth. A bad weekend? The day he had spent with Aziraphale was indescribable. Crowley would trade millions of lifetimes to relive that day over and over again. Maybe that time he won’t fuck up and scare the only true friends he’s ever had because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.

“I’m glad to see you’ve not become a total nerd. No matter how hard you try, Crowley, you’re a right bastard just like us,” Suddenly, he became acutely aware of the grimy taste of smoke in his mouth as he registered Hastur’s words. Worst part was that he was right. He could play pretend with Aziraphale all he liked. Get called good and nice but he’d have to confront the truth eventually. He wasn’t good enough for Aziraphale, as a friend, as… something more? Bottom line was that he should probably stay away from Aziraphale so the only good person in this world doesn’t follow his tainted footsteps.

“Well look what decided to drop outta heaven,” Crowley lifted his head at the sound of Shax’s voice and felt a cold sweat start to form. From across the field, the distinguishable form of Aziraphale was coming closer.

“Crowley, why the fuck is that prick coming over? Please tell me you didn’t invite him,” Crowley sat up straighter in a rush, never taking his eyes off of him.

“No! Of course I bloody didn’t-” He didn’t quite get to finish his defence as Aziraphale had reached them and was standing with his arms behind his back.

“Hello everyone. Crowley,” He nodded to each in turn, keeping eye contact with Crowley when he greeted him.

“Crowley! When did we miss that little detail? He tell you you can call him that?” Hastur looked at him expectantly. Crowley turned his gaze downwards, unable to meet his eye. An awkward moment passed and Aziraphale cleared his throat once he realised that Crowley had indeed forgotten to mention ‘that little detail’ .

“My apologies, Anthony ,” Crowley cringed, his name sounding foreign on Aziraphale’s lips after knowing just how his tongue embraced around his surname.

“What is it?” He demanded. Aziraphale’s mouth fell open and closed a couple times before he managed to stammer out a response.

“Shadewell was looking for you, considering you’ve been in the toilets for 30 minutes. I thought I’d find you here,” Crowley was saved from responding by Hastur speaking up.

“Right, well, you can tell Shadewell he’s not in the bathrooms and you don’t know where he is, alright? You can fuck off now,” Hastur waved him away and Crowley brought the cigarette to his mouth to stop himself from cursing Hastur out for being a total prick.

“I thought you stopped doing that,” He whispered. He was right, unfortunately. After he made him try one that night of the party, he’d taken it upon himself to stop Crowley whenever he saw him with a cigarette in his mouth.

“Honestly dear, it’s rather unhealthy and the taste it leaves in your mouth is absolutely horrendous,”

“I know you think it’s cool, dear. But the smell of those cigarettes is awful. You should really try and stop,”

“Will you please try and stop, dear. You know how much I hate them,”

“I don’t want you to ruin your body, Crowley,”

“Please, for me Crowley,”

And the bastard had done it. Everytime he was itching for a cigarette, he thought of Aziraphale - not like he wasn’t thinking of him to start with - and what he would think. He found that he did that with a lot of things, now that he thought about it.

But now here he was, laying down in front of him with a cigarette, knowing damn well he would’ve stumped it out if he wasn’t with his friends.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, angel,” He said confidently. The group around them paused and held their breath in wait. Aziraphale pursed his lips, clenching his jaw to try and stop tears from forming. Why was he such a dick to him?

“62%” He said. Crowley arched his eyebrow.

“What?” 

“62%. That’s what you got in your Maths mock. Shadewell said it was your best grade he’s ever seen. I guess I know some things about you,” Crowley stared in shock. He’d gotten a B. He’d never even dreamed of seeing those numbers plastered over his paper. He hadn’t seen above a 60% since Year 6 when they asked him to name the different types of clouds in Geography. 

He wanted to ask, to confirm he wasn’t taking the piss, but he had turned around and started walking off. He didn’t even register when his friends crowded around him, calling him a neek for getting a 62% and making fun of Aziraphale for daring to come over.

He had done it. Fucking hell, he was able to improve. Actually improve and there’s a fucking record of it now. Maybe he could do this. Get good grades and be able to be on the same level as Aziraphale and not grow up to be what they expected him to be. He couldn’t have done it without Aziraphale, and he had just gone and ruined it like he always does.

Shit.

After today’s start, Crowley really didn’t expect himself to be in the library during free period. He wandered in late, obviously, a little hazy from the booze he had chugged to calm his nerves. He searched in and out of bookshelves, but he knew where he’d find Aziraphale, just like how he knew where to find him.

He saw him sitting at their table, his back turned to him and bent over a book, his papers and pen disregarded on the table in front of him. Of course it was the book he had given him and Crowley was overwhelmed with emotions. He didn’t know how to feel but, God, did he really not want to talk to him, fearing the energy would be awkward and not comforting like it always was.  He had to do this, though. Apologise for being a total creep in London.

“Good so far?” He asked, leaning on the shelf near him. Aziraphale whipped around at the sound of his voice, his eyes wide and alert. He watched him relax his shoulders, but still hold his head with that air of annoyance.

“I’ve already read it before. Always good however,” He turned back around closing the book and picking up his pen once more to continue working. Crowley sauntered close to him and plonked down into his usual seat. He leaned over, trying to take a look at what Aziraphale was writing but saying nothing. If Aziraphale noticed, he didn’t say anything and neither did Crowley, which resulted in multiple minutes of awkward silence. Eventually, Aziraphale had enough and clicked his pen in order to face Crowley.

“What is it?” He said. Crowey froze and took a deep breath before raising his arms in a familiar apologetic manner.

“You were right, you were right! I was wrong and you were right,” He sang quietly. Aziraphale said nothing, watching him with a bored expression on his face.

“Look, I didn’t mean what I said and I’m sorry about Hastur. He’s a huge dick but you know how I-”

“Have to keep up appearances, I know Crowley,” He finished off. As much as he hated the tone, he wasn’t Anthony to him anymore which made him gain even the tiniest hint of confidence.

“I need you to know I’m really sorry. And not about what happened today but at the weekend in the ferris wheel,” Aziraphale turned away from him, physically recoiling at the memory “I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable in any way. I just wanted you to have a good day and I ruined it by being creepy,” Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows as he spoke.

“ You ruined it? There’s nothing to apologise for dear. I was the one that made it weird when I kept touching you and your hair without thinking about how you felt about it. If anyone was being creepy, it was me,” He said, and Crowley took the chance to shake his head furiously.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It was actually kind of nice,” He admitted softly, which made a grin spread across Aziraphale’s cheeks.

“Well I guess we were both being silly then,” He muttered under his breath. The two sat in silence for a second before Crowley spoke up once more.

“Is it true? What you said about my results?” He admitted quietly, breaking eye contact to fiddle with the table. Aziraphale bent over his bag instead of saying something and pulled out a paper. On it was his distinct handwriting and the 62% plastered on the front. Crowley hesitantly reached over to grab it, afraid it might disappear the second it reached its hand. But it didn’t disappear and for the first time in a very long time Crowley held a paper with results he was proud of.

“There were a couple silly errors in there, which mean that we don’t need to do loads of work to get you a good grade by May,” Aziraphale said but Crowley stayed silent, flipping through the test like it was an ancient scroll. Aziraphale reached over and grabbed hold of his hand which effectively pulled Crowley from his head.

“I’m proud of you, Crowley. This shows that you’re willing to put the work in, and how that can get you a high grade,” Crowley stared at the hand holding his, becoming acutely aware of his hand getting increasingly warmer. He wasn’t about to mess this up again, though. Aziraphale thought he was making him uncomfortable with the physical contact and he needed to reassure him he wasn’t at all troubled about it. He could act normal about his best friend holding his hand, right? As soon as Aziraphale was about to pull away, remembering he probably shouldn’t have touched Crowley without asking, he spoke up.

“You know what this means? It means we gotta celebrate!” He yelled, causing the librarian to shush at them like normal. Aziraphale straightened up, confusion mixed with concern mixing on his face.

“Celebration? What kind of celebration?” Aziraphale immediately regretted asking the question as a sadistic grin spread across his face and his confusion was replaced with fear.

“We’re skipping last period and leaving school,” He said. Aziraphale’s eyes widened as he froze in fear. He began to shake his head furiously, stammering excuses as he did so.

“No, no, no! I can’t miss a lesson!”

“Sure you can,” He shrugged, and Aziraohale went back to writing his notes “Come on! It’ll be fine. No has to-”

“He’ll know!” Aziraphale’s comment shut Crowley up. Aziraphale didn’t need to name who ‘he’ was, he knew ‘him’ all too well.

“Angel, your father doesn’t need to know. The school only calls home if your attendance rate drops below 70%” Aziraphale shut his eyes, pursing his lips as he did.

“You don’t understand. My father got suspicious of what my eldest sibling was doing at school and he logged into the school’s site to check if he signed in each morning and when he wasn’t, he got mad. Really mad,” His eyes glazed over as he got lost in some distant memory that still made his lip quiver. Crowley was not about to focus on how extremely invasive and horrible that is. What kind of parent does that?

“Right, and has he given you any hint that he’s doing that to you,” He said, trying to offer some comfort. Aziraphale paused before silently shaking his head.

“You’re a good student, angel. You haven’t once missed a lesson in your entire life. You’re not like… well whatever your brothers called, can never remember,” A paused past between them before Crowley reached into one of his interior blazer pockets and fished out a couple small slips. Aziraphale studied them carefully with confusion evident on his face.

“Are these the slips from the nurse’s office?” He asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I nabbed loads of ‘em in Year 9. Just change the date and I’ve got her signature down to an art. That way if your father does ask, you can tell him you weren’t feeling well and went to the nurse,” Aziraphale traced his fingers over the slightly wrinkled paper before sighing deeply and nodding slightly.

“Where are we going then?”

They used the lunch bell as their escape. Aziraphale didn’t need to do any work on convincing the others of where he was going, as he was sitting alone. He stood nervously near the gates, jumping at any sound in case it was a teacher that was about to catch him skipping for the first time in his life.

He remembered the day Sam- Lucy came back home from school. He remembered how she dropped her bag and she tensed at the sound of her given name. He remembered hearing his father berate her and shout at her. He remembered her being dragged down the stairs by her short black dyed hair as their father yelled those horrible words. All because she skipped one too many lessons. 

He didn’t need to think about that any longer as Crowley suddenly appeared near him, apologising about the fact he was late as his group of friends wouldn’t let him go. Aziraphale dutifully scanned the area surrounding them before he got into Crowley’s car and he left the school.

His heart was racing, fiddling with his pinky ring as he tried not to look too anxious. He recognised the shift in neighbourhoods, leaving the pale houses he grew up near in trade for the sleek dark modern houses of Crowley’s neighbourhood. They stopped at a familiar corner shop, where Crowley got them something to ‘nibble on’ - an expression from Aziraphale, obviously. Crowley would never say that unironically -  and alcohol, of course, before driving up a familiar hill to a familiar hill.

They set up near the edge, so the rest of the town was visible. It was completely different in the daytime. Back on that fateful October night, the autumn breeze settling between the two, it was difficult to see the two sides. Under the night’s blankets, the lights of houses didn’t stand out among the stars. They were just a town. Together and combined under the darkness. But now the truth shone like the rare British sun. Two different types of houses, two different types of people, two different types of lives.

Aziraphale got this heavy feeling in his heart. When it was just the two of them, he could almost pretend they weren’t who they were. They were just Anthony and Aziraphale, not Crowley and Prince. But now, their town screamed back in his face just how different they were. And yet here they were, together despite what this town thought of it. Crowley popped off the lid on one of the bottles, scaring Aziraphale out of his worries. He passed it to Aziraphale, who took an uncertain sip as Crowley gulped down the taste. He held up the bottle as a toast, a smirk spreading across his face.

“Here’s to me possibly not being a screw-up for the rest of my life,”

“You were never going to be a screw up, Crowley,” He said but clinked his own bottle against Crowley’s.

“Sure I was. I don’t think I’ve been in the 60% since… well I can’t remember, but my point is we did it!” He exclaimed, nearly shouting as freely as he wished with glee. Aziraphale smiled as he looked at his best friend, smiling genuinely. If he could have travelled back in time and told himself that he'd be missing school to drink alcohol with Crowley , he would’ve fainted and gone up to heaven right there and then. Now, being with Crowley came as easily as breathing.

He felt free. He could momentarily not be judged for his every action and be able to be human without fear. He loved God, he did truly, he was a source of comfort, an always trustworthy net underneath him to catch him in case he fell. Aziraphel didn’t notice the gradual change from God to Crowley catching him, making some sly remark about angels falling from heaven. And as freeing and liberating as that was, it was bone chillingly horrifying. He cannot stray from God, eternal damnation and punishment were enough to convince him to be good, but why did He have to place the tree in the middle of the garden?

Would Eve have not eaten the apple if it was on the moon? What if she didn’t go to the tree that day? Would the serpent have whispered his sweet nothings in her ear all the same? Was there denying and escaping one's fate? He wondered what it promised her that was worthy of casting God’s protection and love aside.

“OH shit! I nearly forgot!” Crowley said, twisting around to grab his phone from his pocket. Aziraphale rolled his eyes in disamusement as the camera started rolling.

“My, my angel, how far the apple falls from the tree. Skipping school and drinking cheap beer, that’s not very holier-than-thou, is it now?” He asked, grinning behind the camera like a mad man. Azirphale felt his vision wane in and out of focus slightly as he placed his hand over the camera.

“Crowley, dear, is this necessary-” Crowley didn’t let him finish as he turned the camera around to capture both of them.

“Oh yes, angel. This is your first time skipping a lesson, and I couldn’t be more proud,” He said, wiping a fake tear away dramatically.

“Talking about pride, what about your recent Maths mock?” He turned to face the camera “A 62%! Crowley hasn't been in the 60% since the beginning of school!” Crowley's jaw dropped in shock.

“How very dare you, angel. I mean, it is true but never did I think you’d be so cruel and mean! ” He threw his head back dramatically, fake weeping profusely as he did.

“Oh hush you. You know what I mean,” He grabbed hold of his blazer, pulling him upwards to stop his dramatics. Only that clearly wasn’t the right call because he forgot to calculate how close they’d actually be and found himself quite near Crowley’s face. Crowley’s eyebrows raised in shock and both boys froze. Aziraphale stared at himself in Crowley’s sunglasses, cursing the things as he couldn’t see where his line of sight was. Suddenly, they are back on the ferris wheel and the world has stopped spinning. Aziraphale knew he should pull away, he didn't want a repeat of his birthday weekend, and yet he found himself unjustifiably attracted closer to him. Like two stars spinning closer over the course of centuries, only to touch and burn brighter than before. Aziraphale didn’t even mind the smell of booze and nicotine on him. In fact, if he just leaned in that tiniest of bit closer-

“I should, um, bring you home. Soon,” Crowley muttered out, pulling slightly backwards from Aziraphale who found himself having leaned closer without realising.

‘Yeah, that’s a good idea,” He confessed, ducking his head in order not to look at him “Don’t want to go home late nowadays,” He pulled back and pushed himself up, packing away all their snacks in the Spar bag. 

They moved in silence. They finished packing everything away and got in the car. They drove down the hill, passing the houses until they turned from dark to light. Crowley dropped Aziraphale at the bus stop, where he congratulated him once again for his mock grade. 

The two boys headed home and tried not to think about the fact they wanted to kiss each other.

Chapter Text

The air turned from cold to colder as the winter settled in the town. The roads turned icy and cars drove slower, apart from one, who kept breaking the speed limit whilst blasting a Best of Queen CD so loud the surrounding cars could hear it. Aziraphale’s layers kept increasing, donning a tartan scarf that Crowley found so atrocious it genuinely hurt his eyes whenever he saw it. Aziraphale wore a lot of tartan. The inside lining of his white puffer was tartan, his pencil case was tartan, his water bottle was tartan. But with each passing day, Crowley found himself minding less about the pattern and growing more fond of it in spite of himself. He found that whenever he’d pass by something of that pattern, his mind would think of whether or not Aziraphale would like it.

The two stepped out of the library on the first Friday afternoon of December, like they had done for the past few months.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?” Crowley asked, fixing his glasses onto his face. The day was cold and he didn't want Aziraphale to freeze to death on his walk home. He din't like the influence he was having on him, first by not dislike tartan patterns on something, now offering to be nice by asking to drive him home? No matter what anyone said, Aziraphale was the real demon between them. Aziraphale shook his head, slinging his bag further up his shoulder to stop it from sliding off.

“No, no. It’s quite alright dear. I don’t want to be a bother,” 

“You could never bother me, angel, you know that,” Aziraphale hid his smile, which Crowley caught anyway. “You said you ain’t free on Saturday, is that right?” He asked and Aziraphale confirmed.

“Yes, that’s right. My father said he has something planned for us tomorrow, though he hasn’t told what it is yet,” He said as Crowley shrugged.

“Well, knowing your dad, I wish you good luck. Hopefully it ain’t shit,”

“Language, Crowley. Besides, I’ll bet you it has something to do with his upcoming campaign,” He said. The two lived in a precarious bubble, where they could pretend they had known each other for their entire lives only for it to be burst by the sharp reminder of their backgrounds. They had put off talking about the upcoming mayor election, unusually run every two years. Crowley quickly changed the subject, wanting their ignorance of their situation to remain for even longer.

“Betting now, angel? One step closer to the sin of gambling,” Aziraphale rolled his eyes at his comment, not indulging in his teasing lest it encouraged him.

“Your temptations are growing stronger by the day, my dear. Bye, Crowley,” He said, waving and turning around to walk home. Crowley watched him go for a few seconds, the grin never quite leaving his face as he headed to his car in the opposite way.

Aziraphale hurried up his stairs to his door, and quickly pushed his keys in the lock, craving the warmth of the inside of his home. His numb fingers painfully twisted the key and the door swung open, letting him inside. He revelled in the warmth being spread across his body. He hung his coat by the door and threw his bag down and made his way further into his house. He started making his way to the kitchen before being stopped by the voice of his mother.

“Aziraphale? Is that you?” He turned around to find her coming into the hallway, a worried expression on her face.

“Yes, it’s me,” He stopped and faced her, noticing she was fiddling with a washcloth, something she only did when nervous “Is everything okay?” She nodded.

“Your father wants to see you in his office,” Aziraphale froze and his eyes widened in panic. He automatically checked his watch. It was 4:30, there was no way he was mad about curfew. So why was his mother so anxious? He nodded, unable to trust his own voice and made his way up the stairs. Had he found about… well anything. The lying, drinking, smoking, partying? Any one of those would land him in some serious trouble, with his father reminding him that it's not what Good Christian Men do and him praying he’d control his anger so they won’t have to go to the hospital. He reached the door far quicker than he would’ve liked and his hand shook above the handle. He steeled his nerves, calming himself in case it was nothing and pushed himself in

His father’s study was dark, only being lit by the lamps on his desk. He was sat scrunched over a couple papers, working diligently through his daily stack of paperwork. At the sound of him coming in, he straightened up, removing the small glasses he had on to look at him.

“Aziraphale, please take a seat,” He said as he gestured to one of the seats in front of him. Aziraphale carefully approached it as if it would suddenly come alive and bite him. Crowley would have thought him ridiculous if he knew about his fear at the moment and would cower before every chair he met in the next week. Aziraphale would pretend to be annoyed and ask him to stop only to smile fondly at his antics. He fell downwards in the chair, trying to make himself comfortable against their wooden frame.

“How was your day at school?” He said, looking back down at his paperwork. Aziraphale gulped, irrationally anxious to answer the simple question.

“Good, just doing the same topics and I finished going over last year’s material with Newt today in our tutoring session,” It was true as they had finished everything from last year which made Crowley whoop much to Mrs Young’s, the librarian, annoyance.

“I’m glad you brought up Newton. I need to speak with you about him,” Aziraphale’s world stopped spinning as his lungs started to not be able to inhale oxygen properly. Dear Lord, what was it he wanted to talk about? Was he growing suspicious of Newton? Did he know that Newt was just a cover? Aziraphale tried desperately to calm his breathing as he fiddled with his pinky ring.

“Wh-what about-”

“Stop mumbling, Aziraphale, it’s unnecessary,” His father cut him off. He tried speaking only to be cut off again “You have been spending a lot of time with this Pulsifer boy. I’m glad you are making friends, Aziraphale, both me and your mother think so. I just question why it’s him,” Aziraphale said nothing still, his father’s face remaining passive as his volume started to grow.

“From what I have found out and what you have told me, his family aren’t christian, they don’t go to church, they’ve voted for Crowley in the past and only recently came to their senses about the better option. Furthermore, he has a girlfriend and probably does Lord knows what with her,” Aziraphale cringed at his father’s euphemism “Which is why I have decided to take matters into my own hands,” 

Aziraphale’s eyes widened as his head raced with a million thoughts. What does that mean? Is he going to do something to Newt? Does that mean he’ll soon find out that he’s been lying? 

“You know the Service family, right? They sit near the front with us every Sunday in church,” Aziraphale nodded, once again not trusting himself to say anything “They have a daughter, Margaret. I ought to let you know that I had planned for us to have lunch tomorrow to see if you and her are a good match. Goodnight, Aziraphale,” His father placed his glasses back on to look down at his paperwork and Aziraphale tilted his head in confusion.

“Match? Match for what?” His father’s hand stopped writing as he slowly looked up with an annoyed expression which made Aziraphale gulp.

“For marriage, of course,” If Aziraphale had a drink, he would’ve spat it out. His jaw dropped in shock as his father continued on as if nothing had happened.

“What? You cannot be serious!” His father leaned back in his chair, throwing his pen out of his hand.

“And why is that?” He spat out in restrained anger.

“I can’t get married! I’m still in school and I haven’t gone to uni yet and-”

“Why does that matter? Not only are you an adult so it doesn’t matter if you are in school. You are my son and what I say goes!” He stood up fast, knocking his chair down and slammed his fist against his desk, making Aziraphale cower before him. He leaned forward to loom over him, his tone turned icy cold as he barely muttered out. “Are you going to disobey me, Aziraphale?” Aziraphale panted through his nose, hating the tears stinging in the corners of his eyes as they formed. He shook his head, not muttering a word. He felt a sharp tug in his hair as his father fisted a chock full of hair to meet his gaze. Aziraphale cried in shock and agony, squeezing his eyes tight at the pain

“Answer me, Aziraphale,” Aziraphale’s jaw tightened as he forced himself to look at his father despite the sharp pain travelling across his scalp.

“No, sir,” His father searched for any resistance, taking in the rebellion in his eyes die as he submitted to him. He let go of his curls, and Aziraphale whimpered pathetically at the sensation.

“I wouldn’t expect you to, son,”

Aziraphale didn’t have the energy to trudge himself through the day, He could barely eat a bite of his food and felt nothing when he made his way up to his room or when his mother came in with a hot chocolate in his favourite mug with angel wings. He didn’t remember falling asleep but he woke up feeling numb. He could cry, he could get on his knees and pray, pray that his father would suddenly change his mind and he wouldn’t need to get dressed. 

But he didn’t.

He came in telling him to get out of bed and ready. He did so without complaint, floating to his wardrobe in silence. He picked out what he would wear to meet his future spouse as if he was going to a funeral. No excitement, no joy, just past emotion that the world that seemed so golden felt dark. He thought grimly how he was in this position nearly two months ago, when he was going out on a Saturday for the first time to meet with Crowley. He remembered how he had spent the better part of the first hour debating with himself and how he turned his entire wardrobe upside down to find a good enough outfit. That’s what he should be doing, he should be worried about impressing a potential wife, not a friend you’ve only known a month.

It felt strange getting in the backseat of his father’s car, so used to being upfront with a handful of CDs to pick from. It felt strange not seeing the house switch colours from light to dark and instead seeing the same house over and over and over again. He felt his life finally reach a stop when they got to the house. It was very similar to his, the same pale colouring and tile roofing, only just nearer the centre of town and the outskirts of their neighbourhood. He sighed, trying to calm himself and not break down in front of everyone.

This isn’t fair. None of this was fair. Why did his father have to control his life? Why must he only do things that’ll make his father look good? He could hear Crowley urge him to speak out, quoting some film he’d never heard of and then be outraged when he’d say so. 

“Are you really gonna let your father dictate your entire life, angel? C’mon, you’re far too smart to allow that to happen!”

Despite the grim feeling settling deep on his heart, he found a soft smile tugging at his lips at Crowley’s voice. 

“Now listen to me,” His father’s voice interrupted his daydreaming and he met his eyes in the mirror “You will behave yourself and you won’t dare question my authority in front of others. Do I make myself clear?” Aziraphale bit his tongue before mustering a meek:

“Yes, sir,” In response. His father’s eyes narrowed before they twisted into affection, his persona he portrayed when meeting with others. He’d play the loving father and husband and Aziraphale could pretend that the bruises under his and his mother’s shirt didn't exist for a few hours. They got out of the car and made their way to their door, where it opened before they could knock.

Mrs Service filled the doorway, with her blond hair up in a bun and pale cheeks painted red. She wore a vintage yellow dress that fell below her knees and she smelled faintly of roast dinner.

“Mr Prince. It is truly an honour to welcome you into our home. Come in, come in please!” She moved out of the way, allowing the three to enter in. The inside wasn’t quite as spacious as their home, but had the same aesthetic of purity with an outrageous number of Live, Laugh, Love signs everywhere as well as copious Jesus loves you posters.

“You’ll have to forgive us. Maggie’s brothers decided a football game outside of town was more important than this,” She looked from Aziraphale’s father to Aziraphale himself “Isn’t it just such a joyous occasion?” Aziraphale’s mouth filled with bile. What isn’t more joyous than following what God would want? A union of two people who worship and praise him in reverence everyday. He wanted to run, to scream, to tear down those photos of Jesus staring right through him, knowing he wasn’t any better than the worst sinners in hell as he lied through his teeth.

“It truly is an honour to be in your home, Mrs Service,” He said, holding out his hand,

“Oh he’s such a gentlemen!” She looked back to his father as she shook his hand. “Please, the honour is all ours and call me Esther. We’ll be getting to know each other very well after all”

“Thank you Esther. And it’s quite alright about your boys. I think it best if this is smaller and more… intimate ” Aziraphale ducked his head, to spare Mrs Service the sight of tears forming in his eyes. His father’s sharp reminder this is an engagement lunch made him sick to the stomach and his face soured involuntarily. He caught his father’s eye and tried to compose himself at his threatening gaze.

“I’m sorry, where is the bathroom?” He asked Mrs Service.

“It’s down the hall to your left. We’ll be in the kitchen which is just round here,” She pointed to a separate hallway. “Join us whenever you’ve finished,” He nodded and her voice detailing the church and marriage trailed off behind him. When he reached the bathroom, he locked the door and leaned his forehead against the cool wood. He never wanted to come out, hoping they’d forget his existence and leave him alone. He wanted to cower over the toilet and hurl everything out.

But he couldn’t.

He could only stay here for a couple minutes max and then he’d have to face his father, Mrs Service and Margaret. He was about to be bonded to someone he’d never met. Oh God, he felt sick. He gripped both sides of the sink and stared at himself in the mirror. He hated what stared back. He hated how nothing had changed about his appearance. His curls still sat onto top of his head, he still filled his clothes snuggly and still had that faint tint of rouge on his cheeks. He hated how nothing revealed what he was truly thinking, and hated more that he had perfected the art of acting happy and normal; he couldn't even let it drop for a second.

Pull yourself together, Aziraphale! He splashed water over his face, hoping to cool him down for even a second. He was still wearing his jacket and it suddenly felt too tight, too warm, and for goodness sake, get this thing off of me . He threw it down, though that did nothing as he became acutely aware of every fibre of his sweater and he began regretting wearing wool. He shakily pulled and tugged and ripped at his collar, suddenly not being able to breath.

He dropped to the floor, gripping his hair as he tried to ground himself. He would not cry, he couldn’t cry, he cannot cry. Not here, not now when his time was slowly ticking away. He forced himself to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Repeat. He closed his eyes and didn’t bother reprimanding himself for the tear that fell out.

It shouldn’t be this hard. He had done this so many times, whenever his father ordered a family outing to help his campaign. He had mastered the art of pretending so why was his mask cracking now? From the heap that is his coat, a faint buzzing sound echoed in the bathroom. He sniffled, wiping at his tear stained cheek before crawling over to fish out his phone. 

He knew who it was before he even reached the phone, helped by the fact there was only one contact on his phone. Crowley’s face and text greeted him when it blinked awake.

my best friend in the whole wide world: let me guess

my best friend in the whole wide world: ur at church rn???

Should he tell him? Say that he was in the bathroom of his future wife’s house, about to meet her and eat lunch with no appetite. He should, he could obviously confide in Crowley. He would without a doubt try and come up with some solution whilst calling his father all sorts of names.

He hovered over the text. That was the problem. No matter how hard he tried, Aziraphale could do nothing about his situation. His father decreed it, so it goes. He couldn’t have hope. Hope that Crowley would give so emptily only to make him fall harder.

You: How did you know? It’s Father Abel’s birthday soon and we want to decorate the church for him.

It wasn’t his birthday anytime soon. It was in April but he figured Crowley wouldn’t know that information and he was right because he replied without questioning his statement.

my best friend in the whole wide world: well what can i say?

my best friend in the whole wide world: im fucking psychic

He smiled at his phone like an idiot and was about to remind him about his use of language when a sharp series of knocks came from the door.

“Are you alright in there?” The voice questioned. He threw his phone back into his pocket, putting it on Do Not Disturb hastily.

“Yes. I’m alright. Tickety-boo!” He said.

“Ookay? It’s just you’ve been in there for a long time and everyone’s kind of worried…” He hurried to the door and pulled it back to reveal who was speaking. It wasn’t Mrs Service, but it could’ve been as Margaret looked like the spitting image of her mother.

“No need to worry about me. Just lost in my head is all,” He chuckled nervously and she copied him awkwardly. “Margaret., right?” She shook her head vehemently with a smile.

“Margaret is my 90 year old great grandmother. I’m Maggie,” She stuck her hand out and Aziraphale clasped it tightly.

“Aziraphale,”

“Yeah, I know,” She retracted her hand and both stood awkwardly in front of each other, avoiding eye contact to try and make this the tiniest bit less awkward - it didn’t work.

“Come on. Let’s get this over with,”

Lunch, as expected, was awkward. Started off bad enough when all three adults raised an eyebrow at the sight of them walking in together and Aziraphale’s creased sweater. They said grace and began to eat, where no one spoke, apart from the odd compliment from the Prince’s about the food. Aziraphale sat there in silence, his phone burning a hole in his pocket. He knew it wouldn’t rung or buzz, but the thought it was so near his father and that he had no clue made him nervous enough to sweat.

“Aziraphale, remind me again. You are in Year 13 now, aren’t you?” He looked up from his plate when Mrs Service began to speak.

“Yes. I’m preparing my uni applications,”

“That’s right! Margaret has one more year left of school,” She looked fondly at Maggie “And with the grades I hear you’re getting, you’ll be getting into the top schools no bet! You must be so proud,” His father’s chest swelled with his ego, grabbing hold of Aziraphale’s arm in what seemed like pride and love to spectators. Aziraphale was certain his father wouldn’t do anything here, not willing to risk his reputation but past memories of his father dragging siblings and his mother up the stairs into that study played in his mind involuntarily.

They ate the rest of the meal with a casual conversation which Aziraphale tuned out easily. He wanted a chance to be alone, to check whether Crowley had sent him anything. Not in a weird, obsessive way, just casual and normal behaviour. Him and his mother helped Mrs Service clear the table, despite her complaining about the fact they were guests.

“Oh, we’re not guests. We’ll be family soon!” His mother exclaimed and Aziraphale had to bite his lips so hard to refrain himself he swore it was bleeding.

“I think it best if the two go and get to know each other better. Margaret, why don’t you show Aziraphale your room?” She nodded and started to lead the way when his father interrupted.

“Hold on. Is it smart to leave them alone in a room?” Aziraphale bowed his head, not wanting to think about… that side of a relationship and it appeared that Maggie felt the same way as her cheeks exploded with colour. Mrs Service scoffed and shooed his concerns away.

“Oh come on! They are good Christians and I doubt they would dare do anything before marriage,” Yes, that’s why he couldn’t conjure anything in his mind when he had to think about them. Because he’s a good christian, a good christian that follows the rules and a good christian doesn’t sin and he’s a good christian-

Maggie led him upstairs to her room, where he was greeted to lots of posters and heavily coloured clothes folded in various corners of the room.

“Sorry about the mess. I didn’t know what to wear. What do you even wear when you’re…” She didn’t need to finish her sentence. What do you wear when you’re going to meet your future spouse? According to Maggie, it was a yellow cardigan draped over a white blouse and black skirt. He pursed his lips in a smile, the awkward energy between them returning. He looked around trying to find something to change the topic with.

“You have a lot of vinyls,” He finally said, and her shoulders slumped in relief as the worry left them. He flicked through some of them, seeing some he didn't recognise like Florence and the Machine as well as a few he did like Nina Simone .

“Yeah. It’s a great perk of working in a record store, you always get your hands on any vinyl you want for free. Well, technically not free ‘cus you’ve had to order stock but with girl maths, it’s practically free,” He smiled at her enthusiasm, not quite sure why girls had a different maths than normal. He’d have to ask Crowley about it and whether or not he knew what that meant.

“My friend listens to vinyls,” Her eyes lit up as he responded.

“Another Vinyl lover? Who is it? Maybe I know them if they’ve been in the shop,” Aziraphale froze at her question. He had backed himself into a corner. He couldn’t well say that he was friends with Anthony Crowley and that he’d been in his room to know he listens to vinyls.

“You won’t know him, I think he orders them online,”

“But the best part of buying vinyls is to have a look a around and maybe you find a hidden gem,” 

“I think they might be cheaper online,” She nodded in silent agreement. Suddenly the awkwardness was back and he felt weird for simply the way he was standing. She groaned, breaking the silence as she sat in her unmade bed.

“Listen, we have to talk about the elephant in the room. Whether we like it or not, we’re getting married,” He sighed and looked at the floor. He didn’t want to think about it, he knew he’d try and find a way out of this only to be crushed by false hope. He fiddled with his ring as she looked on with growing annoyance; he couldn't even look at her.

“I don’t like it anymore than you do. We’ll be unhappy the rest of our lives if this goes through… and I’m sorry to say I won’t love you like a wife should a husband,” She crossed her arms, growing quieter as she admitted the last part.

“How can you know that? We might fall-”

“No. No we won’t,” She cut him off, fiddling with the cuff of her cardigan. He sighed deeply and lifted his gaze to meet hers. She looked torn, like she had something to confess. Something so big it forced her to turn away from him. He came up slowly beside her and sat down next to her. Both of them didn’t look at each other, staring at the floor in front of them instead. Maggie sighed and closed her eyes.

“Look, Imma be honest with you because you seem like a nice guy. I’m kinda seeing somebody else and… you could never be like that person,”

“I might,” He said quietly. She turned to face him with her eyebrows furrowed “I could change for you, to make you happy-”

“You don’t get it. Besides, I couldn’t ask you to change everything about yourself for me,” She stood up, pacing in front of him with her hands grabbing onto a lock of short blond hair.

“But I would! As your… husband , I would do anything to make you comfortable. What’s he like? The guy you’re seeing?” She stopped and he could see her mentally arguing with herself on whether she should say the truth. She sighed and opened her mouth to speak, but didn’t look in his direction.

“They’re funny. Overly sarcastic and straight to the point. They’re unafraid to voice their opinions even if they know no one would agree. And so gorgeous and the best person in this entire world… but I can’t even be seen with them,” She turned fully, looking outside the window with her back to him. He could understand the feeling very well. He and Crowley shared the most heavenly time together. It’s like the world personally stopped spinning to allow them to have more time together. And it felt so freeing, finally being with a person who wasn’t like him.

His entire life, his parents had warned him about other people. Other people are bad. Other people will use any chance to use you. Other people don’t care about you. Other people can't understand you. But they were wrong. Crowley could never hurt him. He was the first genuine friend he had his entire life, and he didn’t meet him in church, or bible study, or christian youth club. Crowley would be there for him, to catch him when he fell.

And yet… no one knew. No one knew the secret films Crowley showed him to educate him on pop culture references. No one knew how he knew what made Crowley break from his habit of watching him eat and actually eat something. No one knew the inside jokes they shared over homework assignments. And no one could know. 

He didn’t like to think about it, but soon this school year would end, and suddenly he had no more reason to go out on a Saturday. He would be expected to go to a top uni, far away from here and Crolwey would have to fade to the back of his memory.

But how could he? Crowley was a star, something he gazed on from afar as he circled around him, yearning and craving for his attention but not wanting to get burnt in the process. And he would orbit him for the rest of his life, as his mind betrayed him by thinking about the what ifs and maybes that could have happened if they weren’t them. If they weren’t a Crowley and a Prince. Maybe they could freely talk in school with Aziraphale being scared someone would tell his father. What if they could’ve grown up together and had more time together as friends instead of enemies?

He was brought back to the present at Maggie’s shoulders shaking as silent sobs filled her body. He envied her, how she could cry so easily and speak out against the injustice whilst his own tongue betrayed him and cut itself off to please others.

“So you could never love me. But that doesn’t mean we have to be unhappy,” Maggies said nothing, but her shoulders stopped shaking for a moment “You said it yourself, we are getting married, but that doesn’t mean we should be strangers. We probably have a lot in common, and apart from… marital duties , we could be friends. And I would love you like that: with the respect and care of a friend ,” She turned around, and her eyes had dark smudges around them where her simple makeup was melting under her tears.

“Neither of us want to be unhappy. So, why deprive ourselves of a friendship because we reject a romantic relationship?” She sniffled, wiping away at her tears as an empty laugh escaped her.

“I think I’m really going to like you, Aziraphale Prince,”

Chapter Text

Father Abel’s birthday preparation must have gone really bad, because Aziraphale has been acting off for weeks now. Crowley didn’t expect Aziraphale to constantly be on his phone the entire weekend, what with his father lurking over him like a vulture, but he’d not be online and only respond to his messages very briefly. He even forgot to capitalise at the start of the text for God’s sake!

Then Monday came, and he was quiet. He ignored him in the hallways, which admittedly, he always did due to their agreement but this time it felt like he was ignoring him for the sake of ignoring him, not because he had to pretend to. And that didn’t stop on Monday, because the day after that, and the one after that, and so on, he felt distant. Crowley caught his eyes glaze over with something when he thought he wasn’t looking. He didn’t read when Crowley was working on some exercise, instead, he just looked out the window with an ever present frown. This went on for 2 weeks. 2 whole fucking weeks! Crowley was about to go insane, because whenever he mentioned it, Aziraphale would brush it off like nothing was wrong. But something was wrong, and he knew it.

“Crowley, finish the work,” Aziraphale said, which broke Crowley from his head to be reminded by the damn Biology sheet in front of him.

“I can’t be arsed, angel. We’ve got a week until the end of term, I don’t see why I’ve got to do any work,” Aziraphale rolled his eyes at his antics.

“It’s best you do it now so you don’t have to do it over the break,” He encouraged. It didn’t work, as Crowley twirled the pen around his fingers. Aziraphale sighed and started packing up “If you really don’t want to do this, we can pick it up on Monday,” He said, pushing up from his seat as Crowley straightened up in his seat.

“Monday? Are we not going out on Saturday,” Aziraphale froze and his eyes darted around the room as he tried to come up with an excuse.“Oh, yeah. I- um, I think I can’t come. My father organised a thing with the church and-”

“Again? Jesus Christ, how much preparation does a pastor need for his birthday?” Aziraphale looked down at his shoes, refusing to meet his eye.

“Don’t take the Lord's name in vain, Crowley. We’re practically family friends at this point and I-” Crowley said nothing, a scowl settled across his face as his jaw tightened. Aziraphale sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “Sorry,”

“It’s fine, angel,” He replied courtly. He stood up and pushed past him. God damn it, he was lying to him, and he knew it. Crowley didn’t think that encouraging Aziraphale to lie to his parents will make it so he’ll lie to him. And God damn it did it hurt. 

It shouldn’t hurt this bad. He’d spent his entire life not even wanting to think about Aziraphale Prince, and now he threw a fucking tantrum like a child when he doesn’t get to see him 6 times a week. He stepped out of the library and stormed to his car. He heard Aziraphale call out from behind him. He gritted his teeth as he turned to face him.

“I can try to come out on Saturday if it means that much to you. It’s in the evening. Maybe I can convince my father to let me out in the afternoon,” He wanted to be angry, angry at Aziraphale for lying to him, but he was really angry at himself for accepting whatever bullshit he offered him like a hungry dog. He craved Aziraphale’s attention, more than anything, something he had never experienced with Hastur, Ligur and them lot. But with Aziraphale, just being around him came as easily as breathing. He felt his annoyance being replaced by something else on his chest. Something warm and somewhat hopeful.

“Just text me if you can,” Aziraphale smiled and nodded and Crowley couldn’t help but reciprocate.

When he got home, Crowley was hit by the familiar smell of his father’s fajitas. As he took off his glasses, he entered the kitchen to look for his father, and found him whistling a tune whilst turning the meat around in the pan. He looked up and smiled, his moustache scrunching up as he did so.

“Hey, kid! How was school? Any tests?” Crowley shrugged as he leaned against the doorway.

“Nah, no test. Teachers are just giving revision materials for the break,” He cringed, sucking in a breath as he bared his teeth.

“I do not envy you, kid,” He turned back to his pan, dancing to an imaginary tune.

“What’s got you so happy?” Crowley asked, pushing off the doorway to enter the kitchen fully. His father twirled him around, making him yelp at the surprise “Seriously, what the fuck is going on?” His father made a face at his language before answering.

“You know the convention centre in the middle of town?” His father asked. Crowley nodded slowly with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Guess who finally was able to reserve the hall for a New Year’s Party?!” Crowley’s jaw dropped in shock as he laughed with his father.

“Oh my God, really?” His father nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah, really! I wasn’t gonna try this year, considering Prick Prince always has it booked months in advance but I thought, why not? Apparently, he hadn’t reserved yet! Oh, I wish I could see his face when he calls up and realises that the hall is ours this year!” He laughed out loud, turning back to the pan to turn the meat. 

“This is great, dad!”

“I know. Plus it’s extra advertisement for the upcoming election next year,” He said “Oh! Why don’t we invite your friend? Annabeth?

“Anathema?” Crowley suggested and his father clicked his fingers as he recognised the name.

“That’s the one. She’s helped you so much this year so I thought to invite her and her grandmother,” Crowley just nodded, feeling only the tiniest bit guilty about the fact his father has no idea who he’s truly spending time with.

“Oh and there’s something else I-”

“Can I go get changed first?” Crowley cut off his father, and he nodded.

“Yeah, of course,” Crowley turned to go out but stopped at the doorway. 

“Dad?” His father looked up to look at him “What would you do if you knew a friend was lying to you but you don’t know why or about what?” His dad whistled out a breath, looking shocked and a bit lost.

“This is totally hypothetical, right?” He asked sarcastically.

“Totally,” He lied. His father chuckled before looking off into the distance thinking. He placed his wooden spoon on the counter, grabbing hold of the edge.

“Well, I’m assuming you know and trust this person?” He asked and Crowley nodded “If you trust them, you have to trust that there’s a reason as to why they're lying. Whether that's a good or bad reason you have to accept it. If you can't, I suggest sitting with them and reminding them they can trust you and you trust them and that you won’t take whatever bullshit excuse anymore,” Crowley averted his gaze, suddenly missing his glasses on his face, so he had something to act as a barrier. He sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes as he became overwhelmed with conflicting emotions.

“Thanks, dad,” He turned away and made his way upstairs. No matter what, he was going to pry whatever Aziraphale was hiding from him this weekend.

“So I managed to reserve the hall again for New Years,” Aziraphale’s father said, looking at the both of them.

“That’s nice, John,” Replied his mother. Aziraphale toyed with food nervously, flicking his gaze up and down, mentally debating whether or not to speak.

“And that would be a perfect time to announce Aziraphale’s engagement with Margaret, don’t you agree,” His father asked.

“Oh yes, I think it would be absolutely wonderful,” His mother replied. The words flew over his head, too preoccupied with building confidence to ask for permission to go out Saturday.

“Aziraphale,” His father said, grabbing Aziraphale’s attention from his plate. “Have you got anything to say?”

“Oh! I-um I think it’s wonderful news. Just like always,” He said. His father narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenching which made Aziraphale gulp.

“What is it?” He spat out. Aziraphale looked between his parents, his heart beating so loudly in his chest he was sure it was going to fall out onto the plate in front of him.

“I was-um. I was wondering if I could meet with Newt this weekend-”

“Have you lost your mind, Aziraphale,” His father cut him off and he felt his confidence dissipate.

“No! It’s just-”

“It’s just what? You know we’re having dinner with the Services and you dare ask a stupid question like that?” He bowed his head, unable to look him in the eye. “Look at me when I am speaking!” His chest rose rapidly as his heart continued to beat and tears began to sting in his eyes.

“I know, sir. But it's the last weekend before Christmas break and we just wanted to make sure we went through everything before we break up,” His father took off his square glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“So you would rather spend your time with some boy we barely know instead of your future wife . You need to start thinking, Aziraphale!” Aziraphale barely managed to maintain eye contact as his father threw his cutlery down, making a loud bang on the table.

“Now hold on,” His mother’s voice cut between the two men, and his father ripped his anger from Aziraphale to Dorothy “ Aziraphale has known Newt a lot longer than he’s known Margaret. How long do you think you’ll be, dear?”

“Two hours. Max,” He replied. He watched his mother steel her breath before facing his father.

“They said they’ll arrive at 5pm. If he leaves at 2, he’ll be back in time. That way, Aziraphale gets to help Newton and have dinner with us,” She smiled shakily at her husband. “What do you think, darling?” His father’s face was red and his jaw was clenched. His hands gripping at the table were becoming white as he clicked his tongue. Finally, almost so subtle he missed it, his father nodded.

“Very well. If that’s truly what you wish,” He stood up quickly and the chair scrapped along the floor in an ear-piercing noise. He made his way out of the kitchen, leaving the other two staring in relief at his spot. They were okay for now, but uncertainty of whether his father would take out his frustration on either of them remained in the pits of their stomach.

“Thank you, mother,” Aziraphale whispered softly. His mother gave him a tight smile before enveloping her son into a tight embrace and stroking his hair.

“Anything for you, my miracle,”

Saturday rolled around, and after a week of miserable weather, the sun shone on Tadfield. Deciding not to waste a day like this, they decided to only briefly stop into Nina’s coffee shop to grab some refreshments - Aziraphale’s eccles cakes. They got their food quickly enough, but Nina looked like she was debating whether to scream or cry in Aziraphale’s face, as she cut him off and kept giving him weird glances. Crowley narrowed his eyes at her, confused as to why she was treating Aziraphale like the scum of the earth.

“I’m fine,” She replied hastily when Crowley asked and left them to serve another customer without a backwards glance. What is going on? Why was everyone in such a pissy mood? First, Aziraphale starts acting distant and cold and now Nina looks like she’s about to throw hands at the next person who breathes wrong. They left and Aziraphale kept looking off in the distance and acting standoffish towards him. This is getting fucking ridiculous and Crowley won’t have it any longer or he might just explode.

Crowley drove them to the park, which was in a stand still like always and they made their way to one of the benches. They laid out all their stuff and Crowley was once again face to face with that damned inheritance Biology sheet. He chewed on his lip as he re-read the same question for what seemed the millionth time.

“Are you done?” Aziraphale asked, resting his head on his fist. Crowley scoffed and threw his pen down, noticing how Aziraphale flinched at the noise.

“Does it look like I’m bloody done?” Aziraphale rolled his eyes at his annoyance and stood up to sit next to him instead of opposite him. He peered over his shoulder and Crowley tried not to flush at their proximity.

“Which question are you stuck on?” He asked and Crowley watched his lips move before registering he was being asked a question.

“Ngk, I-um. That one, with the punnett square,” Aziraphale read over the question as Crowley continued to rant “It was easy enough when it was only two chromosomes deciding a characteristic but now it a bunch of ‘em and I just lose track of what it is I’m actually doing,” Aziraphale thought for a moment, trying to decide how to answer.

“Okay, so remember how when you did a punnett square with one genotype per parent, it came out with a ratio?” He asked and Crowley nodded.

“Yeah, 3:1,” He replied.

“Right, so how do you get a percentage of the number of offspring that will be homozygous recessive in a 3:1 ratio?” He asked again.

“Easy, you go 1 over 4 and times by a hundred,” Aziraphale smiled and encouraged him on.

“So if the ratio for two genotypes per parent is 9:3:3:1 and the 1 is homozygous recessive, how do you figure out the percentage of offspring that are homozygous recessive?” Crowley thought for a moment and picked up his pen and calculator.

“You do 9+3+... over 1 times 100… Is it 6.25%?” He asked unsure. Aziraphale smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “Hell yeah! I got it right!” He reached over for a high five, which Aziraphale gave with faux annoyance but a small smile. He handed the sheet over for marking, which Aziraphale did quickly enough and was glad to see increasingly more ticks as the days went on. He went to place the sheet in his bag and turned to find Aziraphale standing with his bag over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” He asked, a bit confused.

“Waiting for you,”

“Yes, I can see that. I meant what are you doing standing up?” Aziraphale tilted his head in shared confusion.

“Because I’m ready to go,” He pointed behind him to the car and Crowley’s jaw dropped unwillingly.

“To go?! We’ve barely been out an hour!” Aziraphale looked slightly embarrassed and averted his gaze which only served to fester Crowley’s rising anger.

“Well I thought since we’re done, I could get home early,” He mumbled. Looking at the ground which seemed much more interesting.

“What time did you need to get back?”

“Well the dinner starts at 5, and I said I’d be home by 4,” Crowley looked at his phone to check the time.

“So you’ve got another hour! What are you rushing for?” Aziraphale turned to look sideways, his gaze became clouded with emotions and unseen fears once again. Crowley’s jaw tightened, he hated seeing Aziraphale like this. Did he really not trust him after all the time they spent together? Maybe Crowley was a fool to think Prince was ever going to trust someone like him. He stood up and stuck his hand out for Aziraphale to take. 

“C’mon, let’s take a walk,” Aziraphale examined the hand carefully as if unsure what to do. Shakily, he lifted one of his own manicured hands and took it, allowing Crowley to lead him in the park. Unlike usual, the two walked in silence, instead of being followed by their chatter like always.

“So, you doing anything for Christmas, angel?” Crowley asked, shoving his hands into extremely tight pockets on his tighter jeans. Aziraphale flicked his gaze to him before answering.

“Well, we’re leading a service on Christmas eve and day in the church like always,” Crowley rolled his eyes at the mention of the church, which Aziraphale decided to ignore for now, “And, obviously, I'll be attending my father's New Years Party that he always hosts. What about you, dear?” Crowley huffed out a puff of air, looking dramatically off into the distance.

“Yeah, the same. Revising, dinner, presents, y’know the usual,” And a massive fucking new years party that your family usually hosts. He wasn’t about to say that to Aziraphale. He narrowed his eyes at the red head, instantly suspicious about his behaviour.

“What have you got planned?” He interrogated. Crowley whipped his head around and put his hands in surrender.

“I haven’t planned anything, angel!” He squeaked out in an embarrassingly high voice which made it clear he was being untruthful.

“Crowley,” He said accusingly. Crowley looked at him with a sly smile before sighing.

“Alright, alright. It’s just that there’s a possibility your father won’t be able to have his little New Year’s party this year,” Aziraphale tilted his head in confusion as he narrowed his eyes at the red head. 

“What have you done?” He asked again.

“You have no faith in me, angel,” Aziraphale said nothing, silently forcing Crowley to explain “He won’t be able to host it because a certain someone may have snagged the venue before your father called,” Aziraphale’s jaw dropped in shock and confusion as Crowley continued grinning like a mad man.

“What!?” Crowley flashed his teeth as he shrugged.

“Should’ve been quicker,” He started walking faster. Aziraphale grabbed his arm before he could run off further away.

“That’s impossible,” Crowley opened his mouth to retort but Aziraphale cut him off. “That’s impossible because my father has also reserved the hall,” Crowley now looked as confused as Aziraphale and his smile was wiped off and replaced with a frown.

“Well, my father definitely reserved the hall. Maybe your father lied,” Aziraphale scoffed.

“Believe me, if my father knew a Crowley had reserved the hall before him, we would know,” He said, finally letting go of his arm as he spat out his name. His face twisted for a second, and for a moment, Crowley could see Aziraphale’s mask of a normal family slip. His eyes glazed over as they got lost in a past unseen memory. They glazed with something they never should, with sadness and hopelessness, and with a fear no child should experience due to their parents. But just as quickly as the mask slipped, it was back on and Crowley was left whether he had imagined it. A moment of silence passed before Crowley laughed at the absurdness of the situation.

“Shit. Well they’re not going to be happy about that,” He managed to squeeze between wheezes. Despite clear resistance, Aziraphale’s lips couldn’t help but perk up and he soon was silently shaking.

“My father is going to be livid,” He said as he ran a hand through his hair.

“What about my dad? He thinks he finally got the upper hand on your dad just for them to be in the same room for 3 hours,” Aziraphale eyes widened at the horrifying thought of both their father’s together, and promptly imagined it would end in a blood bath.

“They might actually kill each other if they’re in forced proximity,”

“Yeah, well at least I’ll actually get to see you,” Said Crowley. Irritatingly, the smile and laughter he had worked so hard to see after weeks of nothing disappeared in an instant at the mention of being seen together in public.

“That’s not wise. What if either of our fathers spot us and discover we’ve lied to them for months-”

“Hey, it’ll be fine! They probably will be fighting each other or will be pissed by the end of the night and won’t notice their kid sneaking off to the side for, like, 30 minutes. We’ve practically been seeing each other 6 days a week and then it'll be weeks of nothing, and that’s a big change,” Aziraphale said nothing, looking to the ground before speaking up with a gulp.

“Are you saying… you’re going to miss me?” He looked up with a grin that Crowley despised as he began to shake his head.

“Only in your dreams, angel,” He turned to walk away from the situation, only for Aziraphale to slide up beside him, still smiling like an idiot.

“I don’t know. You kind of insinuated that you would miss me,” Crowley groaned, which made a giggle escape from Aziraphale.

“Absolutely not!”

“You’re gonna miss me! You’re gonna miss me!” He sang cheerily. Crowley took a hand to his hair in annoyance.

“Stop it!” Aziraphale stopped but his smile remained as he continued his walk in silence but with a changed atmosphere around him. 

“And, we can meet up to exchange Christmas presents!” Crowley suggested but quickly regretted as Aziraphale turned in surprise. “Or not… I guess?”

“You were going to get me a Christmas present?” He said incredulously. Truth be told, he already had gotten him something and wanted to see his reaction to it as soon as possible.

“Obviously,” He said with an evident tone, almost hurt Aziraphale thought he wouldn’t get him a present but laced with enough softness for Aziraphale not to take it as negative. Aziraphale smiled and nodded before speaking.

“Okay, we’ll meet up for presents,”

They reached a bench facing outwards towards a small pond where they decided to sit for a while. Aziraphale unzipped his bag and pulled out a packet of grapes, which he began to slowly chuck at some ducks. Crowley looked at Aziraphale, a soft smile growing on his lips. He thought how much he missed this. Yes, they had hung out for the last few weeks, but something was off. It's back to normal now, and Aziraphale doesn’t seem to be lost in his head with something awful and was enjoying the moment without any pressure. Aziraphale felt him staring and turned to look at him.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked softly.

“How much I missed this,” Aziraphale looked confused as his eyebrows furrowed. “Hanging out with you, I mean,” Aziraphale scoffed with a smile, looking slightly more confused.

“We’ve hung out almost daily, Crowley,” Crowley pursed his lips and nodded, looking away from the other boy.

“Sure, but you’ve been acting differently for two weeks and you’ve finally forgotten about it for a moment now,” Aziraphale’s smile slowly dwindled as panic replaced his tranquillity. He looked from Crowley to the lake, unsure on whether to break his gaze. He looked down at his ring. “And you’ve been fiddling with your ring more often,” Aziraphale looked slightly surprised that Crowley had noticed such a small detail, but said nothing.

Crowley sighed “Look, I know something happened about 2 weeks ago, and don’t try and lie to me again, okay? I won’t force you to say anything, but I know something is wrong. And as much as I hate admitting it, you’re my… best friend and it’s like you’ve been replaced with a ghost. I want my best friend back, and I'll do anything to get you back to normal. If that means having to wait an eternity for you to admit whatever it is you’re keeping secret from me, I’ll wait 2 eternities,” Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, his wide blue eyes glazing over with tears as sobs choked in the back of his throat as he forced them down. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes which made a tear finally run down his cheeks.

“You’re right. Something did happen,” He said so quietly he almost didn’t hear it. Crowley said nothing, hoping it encouraged him to continue. “The truth is that my father has… arranged as suitor for me,” He stumbled on his words and Crowley’s confusion and concern grew by the second.

“Did he also arrange for the fucking Middle Ages to come back? What the fuck do you mean ‘arranged a suitor’?” He asked. Aziraphale gave him a sidelong glance as he took a moment to compose himself.

“There really is no easy way to say this so here it is: I’m getting married,” He said matter-of-factly. The world stopped. Crowley thought he was having him on, but Aziraphale didn't smile, didn’t even look at him for a reaction as his eyes grew more stubborn tears that refused to fall. It didn't fully click until what felt like an hour a few seconds had gone by. The world resumed. His jaw fell open as he stared at his best friend in disbelief.

“You’re what!?” 

“To put it plainly, my father said that I’m spending too much time with you and not enough time in the community which could help his campaign. So, he was forced to take matters into his own hands and arrange a marriage for me. We will be announce the relationship during the New Years Party, the engagement a couple weeks before his election and get married the summer she leaves Upper Sixth,” Aziraphale spoke like a broken man, as if it was a script that he repeated over and over in his head until he fell to insanity.

“You’re actually getting married. Wait, she leaves Upper Sixth, who the hell is she?”

“Her name is Margaret Service,” Crowley didn’t know what to say. He was genuinely speechless “And the reason I’ve been fiddling with my ring is because it was my grandfather’s ring he gave to my grandmother when they took a vow of celibacy until marriage which my father now wants me to give to Maggie,” He admitted, his voice breaking as he tried to keep it together. A moment of silence passed and a short incredulous laugh escaped from Crowley.

“Fucking hell, you Christians sure know how to get it on,” Aziraphale looked outraged at his comment.

“Crowley!”

“Sorry, but like, why are you getting married?” He asked in disbelief.

“I have to. It’s not like I have a choice,” He muttered quietly, and Crowley’s confusion and outrage grew.

“Don’t have a choice, it’s your fucking wedding? What the hell do you mean you don’t have a choice!-”

“Because of the commandments! ‘Thou must honour thy father and mother’. My father said I must get married so I will,” Aziraphale looked up to meet his gaze, no fight left in his eyes. Crowley shook his head in disbelief.

“That's so fucked, you need to get the fuck out of here. I wouldn’t be surprised if you ran off. In fact, I’d probably join you,” Crowley slumped further into his seat as Aziraphale sat up straighter.

“Run off… together?”

“Yeah! I mean, everyone is terrified of me ‘cus they think I’ve been raised by some corrupted and evil lawyer who's involved in the crime world and your father's views about family clearly belong in the olden days. If I were you, I would move someplace else, change my identities and start a new life somewhere where Princes and Crowleys aren’t at war,” Aziraphale shook his head in disbelief as he stood up with his back away from him

“Come now, Crowley. Surely, you hear how insane you sound right now?” Crowley threw his hands up in confusion and stood up as well. He was not gonna let Aziraphale run away from this conversation, no matter how uncomfortable or painful it may get.

“Why? Give me one good reason why you and I shouldn’t jump in my car and go someplace else-”

“Because this is my life!” He screamed as he turned to face Crowley “I can’t just leave my family, my house, my life! I have to follow my commandments!"

“You’re so clever! How can someone as clever be so stupid,” Aziraphale blinked as he registered Crowley’s insult “How can you not see how fucked that is? An old shitty book shouldn’t be able to allow your father to dictate your life!” Aziraphale stuck his finger in his chest, looming over him as he pushed him down as he had begun to rise off the bench.

“Don’t you dare call The Bible that,” He growled dangerously low. Religion was a sore topic between them. Crowley was clearly not religious and had stated many times that if he were to be in a religion, it wouldn’t be Christianity. Aziraphale wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t blind by the way Crowley rolled his eyes whenever he told him not to swear or take the Lord's name in vain. But he liked their bubble, their precarious thread that held them together despite their unlikely situation. So they didn’t talk about it, that is until now.

“What? Too deluded to realise that that little book is full of hypocrisy and nonsense!” Crowley easily overpowered Aziraphale’s finger as he stepped closer, using those few centimetres he had on him to make him look up.

“What is your problem with religion?” He cried out and Crowley grinded his teeth to stop him yelling at him like a mad man. He stepped away from him, rubbing his hand over his mouth as an empty laugh escaped him.

“My problem? My problem is that you 'angels' and Christian preach and spout out praise for this omni-benevolent God, that has conditions for his love. My problem is that you use mistranslated and distorted words to perpetuate your ideas and destroy cultures. My problem is that murderers and child molesters get to go to heaven without serving any punishment in their lives because they repent for their sins on their deathbed. Surely, you cannot go along with something like this?”

“That’s not for me to judge. It’s the Great Plan, Crowley,”

“Yeah,” He laughed ruefully, stepping back from him. “For the records, great, pustulent, mangled bollocks to the Great Blasted Plan! ” He walked in a circle, screaming at the sky as he spat out his frustration. He huffed out as Aziraphale looked around him to check no one had heard them.

“May you be forgiven,” He said quickly and quietly, his voice cracking slightly. Crowley shook his head, his rage bubbling and burning in his heart.

“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you? To stand there all holier-than-thou and forgive me so holi-ly. Well guess what, angel? I won’t be forgiven. Not ever. Part of a demon’s job description, right? Unforgivable. ‘Cus that’s what I am to you, right? A lowly Crowley demon while you stand there on your altar as a Prince angel,” Aziraphale looked conflicted and Crowley thought for a brief moment he had gotten through to him.

“You weren’t always like that,” He whispered, almost unsure if he wanted Crowley to hear him.

“That was a long time ago,” He turned his back to him, almost walking away.

“And you can change! All you would have to do is repent and-"

“Just stop it!” He lunged for him, reaching him in a matter of seconds. Aziraphale flinched, turning away and covering his head with his hands. Crowley almost felt bad. Almost.

“Do you want to know why I could never join a church?” He growled quietly. Aziraphale slowly and shakily lowered his arms, taking the fact he hadn’t been hit and seeming almost relieved despite the fact Crowley had never laid a hand on him.

“It’s because no church will ever accept someone like me,” Aziraphale looked confused but still seeing a non-existent light at the end of the tunnel. Crowley wasn’t thinking, this wasn’t the way he had planned to tell him about himself, and hadn’t even decided if he wanted to tell him. But he realised the consequences of his words when Aziraphale started to smile and urge him to be good.

“Is it because you’re a Crowley? I must admit, it would be a bit weird but if you prove that you want to change and be a Good Christian Man, then I’m sure the church would be more than happy-” Crowley shook his head, deciding to go for it as he couldn’t bear hear him talk about the church for one more second.

“It’s because I’m gay,” He grew exponentially grateful for his glasses because of this moment. He could clearly and openly look in Aziraphale’s eyes, to search for acceptance and trust and comfort, but more importantly, could hide his reaction whatever it may be that Aziraphale says.

“What?” His nose flared and he took a step back, trying to get as much space away from him like he was some monster. 

Oh.

Chapter Text

He was… gay . Crowley, his best friend, was gay . Gay, Gay, Gay, Gay, Gay, Gay . He said it so confidently, he said it so calmly. Aziraphale hadn’t even allowed himself to think that word, and here was Crowley saying it like it was nothing. Crowley couldn’t be gay, he was so… normal. He had heard from his father about queer people, how they shove down their deviant sexual agenda, exposing sexuality to children and straying them from the path of God, how they were unnatural and undeserving of any respect for indulging in their sinful choices.

“Queer, homosexual, whatever you like to call it. Surprise, I like men!” He said in a false cheeriness dripping in sarcasm that pulled Aziraphale from his conflict.

“You’re not… You can’t be, Crowley,” He stammered out, shaking his head as it slowly started to lose all semblance of reality.

“Oh I’m sorry? I didn’t know you were the expert on my sexuality!” He spat out sarcastically, it missed a little bow at the end.

“No. I mean I- You don’t look like…” He stopped at Crowley’s face growing more twisted with anger.

“Oh, you know what? You’re right! Let me go where a cropped pink shirt and dye my hair rainbow and comment on every guy's body! Would that make you more comfortable?” Aziraphale flicked his gaze between him and the floor, which seemed to annoy Crowley even more.

“Look at you! You can’t even look at me anymore,” Shakily, Aziraphale raised his gaze to find Crowley closer than he was, looming once again over him. He half hoped he looked differently, so Aziraphale didn’t have to recognise him. But it was him, the same Crowley that decided to smoke instead of show up to their first tutoring session. The same Crowley that got him a phone despite having known him less than a month. Who got home out of that house for the first time in his life. Showed him London, gave him a first edition novel, bought him a book he said he liked, brought him to a party, stood up for him.

The same Crowley who Hastur said who wanted to… Slowly, his mind wrapped around the fact that Crowley probably chose to be gay before he met him. Which means that he’d been gay the whole time. And Aziraphale hadn’t noticed. He was nothing like his father described him. Sure, he was a wild teenager that didn’t really care about school or abiding speed laws, but he wasn’t cruel as he smiled when Aziraphale gave his very expensive coat to someone he didn’t know. He was some unfeeling criminal who cared about whether or not ducks were fed grapes or bread at the park. So maybe he was also wrong about the-

No! He can’t think like that, if he thought like that, he’d end up like Lu-Samuel, who lost a family, a life, a future. How could he choose that life for himself? To be dirty and impure for all his life.

“Have… you ever-” Aziraphale looked for his eyes behind the lenses only to be met by nothing as if they were over a wall in a garden.

“What? Touched, kissed, fucked?” Aziraphale cringed at his vulgarity. He felt himself being studied by Crowley, who scoffed in disdain. "Why do you wanna know, to see if it's too late to save me?"

"Yes-No. No I don't, I was just. I just wanted to know why you'd choose that path for yourself, knowing its unnatural" Crowley expression turned to an expression of bitter anger and disbelief at what he had said

“I don’t think you want the answer to that, considering you never change on your beliefs and naively follow the first thing someone tells you,” And once again, silence was shared between them. Aziraphale was a man of faith, he relied on being guided and lead through his life, to make the burden that was life itself lighter. But here Crowley was, standing there telling him he should lead himself. But how could he? How could he when he had it engraved and chiselled into him. He couldn't just leave that part of him without killing him. Could he? The silence was heavy, dense, deafening and Aziraphale felt his throat tighten closed and breathing became a laborious task. Crowley licked his lips as his expression darkened.

“Say it,” Aziraphale narrowed his eyes slightly “I can see you itching to say it. Go on: Forgive me,” His heart started beating, his blood pumping loudly in his ears he was drowning in sound despite being in sound.

“What?” He asked, not registering anything that's happening, he couldn’t.

“Say it. Say that we can drag me to the church and have me kneel in front of all the precious little Christian children to serve as a warning and be held as a pariah in front of everybody,” Aziraphale refused to look away. He was done being scared and he had to talk to Crowley, the real him, no matter how much resistance he was going to get. He raised his hand and as his fingers brushed the lenses, Crowley’s hand snapped up and grabbed Aziraphale’s wrist, digging his nail painfully into his skin.

“Don’t you fucking dare. I need you to say it,” This wasn’t supposed to be like this. If Aziraphale had just kept his mouth shut like he had done for the past two weeks. If he hadn’t let Crowley in, secretly hoping for a way out to be provided, they’d be fine. If they had to go an eternity of walking on eggshells around each other, Aziraphale would choose that a million times over. He can’t imagine a world where he doesn’t have Crowley within arms reach, and he can’t imagine a world where he’s closer. They were in balance, and suddenly were spinning out of orbit, and about to fly away from each other.Like two lines who met for one brief, exhilarating moment only to never see each other again.

As much as it hurt, maybe this was what he needed to do. It could nerve work between them, they were too different, different species even. Their lives were going in two different directions. Despite creating this haven where they could forget for a brief moment who they were, it was only a matter of time before they had to step outside the bubble. They were an angel and a demon. Too different to co-exist peacefully.

Did Juliet and Romeo know they were doomed from the start? How Juliet cursed Romeo for being a Montague! Did she value and treasure the moment they met or did she curse her blind naivety for believing it could work? She had to walk away, both of them did and yet they couldn’. They decided that the world was simply not the same if they continued on alone. In death, there were no Montagues and Capulets, and just like that, their wall was torn down and they could be together. 

He couldn't help of thinking about Adam and Eve. The first to ever encounter sin and the first to be punished for giving in. But how could Eve fear death when she had never even encountered sin? Did Adam know, when she was born from his rib, that she would be the one given into desire? Did he view her as a figment of his worst intentions, ideas and thoughts and therefore recognised the weak and shameful part of himself in her? Is that what Crowley was asking him to do? To confirm their ways to say that they never will change and that he was that predictable and that their similarities were too weak to keep away the differences by offering the apple. Aziraphale knew what he had to do.

In no universe could Aziraphale be with Crowley, in any way, shape or form.

“I forgive you,” He barely managed to whisper out, his voice betraying his heart, wanting to stay and never let go. But the words were said and a sour smile graced Crowley lips, who once laughed at his jokes and smiled at his action.

“Don’t bother,” He threw down the arm “Because you know what? People like you, are never going to change. They stick their noses up at people like me so I don’t need you. I never want to see you fucking face again, do you hear me? And this , whatever this is or was, it’s gone. Don’t you dare forget that we are a Crowley and a Prince,” And with that, Crowley turned around and stalked off.

Aziraphale stood frozen in the park, wishing the world would just stop for a singular moment. It was what he had to do, he couldn’t risk their lives like Romeo's and Juliet's. A relationship like theirs was doomed to fail and would only hurt more in the end. Better to sever the cord now when it isn’t as strong then delay the inevitable. Or would delaying the cutting allow Friar Lawrence to arrive in time to reveal Juilet’s death was just an appearance and not real.

Is that what Aziraphale had done? Had he just drunk the poison he so carefully tried to avoid? Was there a way, even a tiny possibility, that it could work?

Fuck.

Aziraphale had no coat, and no light so when the day quickly set and night took over, Aziraphale was forced to walk home in the dark. He hugged himself tighter, hoping to try and keep warmth to himself. He tried not to cry but it was difficult not to when the one person you had relied on had suddenly gone from underneath you. He checked his watch, which only made the tears flow profusely out when he realised there was no way he’d make it home on time.

His hand tremors as he slotted his key in the doorknob, half from the cold, half from the rising panic to face his father. Not only had he broken curfew, but he had gone out of his own accord. If he didn’t leave, he wouldn’t have to face his father. If he didn’t leave, he wouldn’t have had that fight with Crowley. If he didn’t leave, he wouldn’t feel like Romeo’s and Juliet’s end seemed like a mercy.

The door swung open and in the distant some jazz music played softly as familiar voices spoke inaudible words. However, he felt like the whole world was muffled and he probably wouldn’t notice someone screaming in his ear. The last thing he wanted was to go out and face his parents and Maggie. He couldn’t. How could he stand there tall and be proud when he felt like collapsing at any given second? He couldn't, he just couldn't. 

“Aziraphale, there you are! I was getting worried about you and was about to head out to Newton’s house myself,” His mother’s voice barely broke him from his trance. “My, you’re absolutely freezing! Come inside. I know everyone will be happy to see you,” His mother wrapped her arms around him, giving him her shawl as they navigated through the winding hallways to the living room. All turned to face him, and he recognised his father, who curled his hand around his cup as a reminder of his fury and later punishment. He recognised Maggie and her family, now with three older brothers who he met last weekend and-

A man. His short brown hair quiffed backwards into the perfect hairstyle and his chiselled facial structure that belonged to a statute. He dusted off a pristine light grey suit and grinned like a devil. Aziraphale felt his heart, who craved a moment of silence, to freeze in fear.

“Aziraphale, come say hello to your brother,”

Gabriel.

Chapter Text

Gabriel stood in the middle of their living room, his hand holding a half-drunk glass of champagne, staring Aziraphale up and down. He wonders what he must look like to Perfect Gabriel. His hair dishevelled and his nose red from crying and the cold. He raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, a snicker subtly shaking his shoulders.

Aziraphale wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him up. He couldn't have Gabriel here right now. Not when his entire world was tipping on its axis and he was hanging onto the edge for dear life. Not when everyone is staring at him with that look of pity in their eyes. He completely forgot that his father mentioned that his precious older son was coming over for the Christmas break, he was too preoccupied with getting permission to see-

“Azzy! Have you forgotten how to say hello in the time I’ve been away?” The adults in the room quietly laughed at his remark and Aziraphale had to fight the urge to clench his fists by his side and show his displeasure. That absolutely horrid nickname that he came up with when he was 5 was shoved condescendingly down his throat and he refused to call Aziraphale anything else. It was a horrible nickname, not like the nickname that Cro-

“Hello, Gabriel,” Aziraphale murmured out quietly. Gabriel put on a show of placing his hand next to his ear.

“Is that how you greet your older brother? C’mon try again,” He stood back up, straightening his back and a smug smile fit his face. Aziraphale swallowed down a retort and responded with a smile

“Gabriel! What an unexpected pleasure. It’s been…” He trailed

“A while. Did father not tell you I was coming?” His brother asked as he turned to their father.

“I did. Did you forget, Aziraphale?” His father looked back to glare at him and he felt the colour drain from his face.

“No! I just… didn’t realise today was the day he would arrive, that’s all,” He stammered out and both Gabriel and father looked somewhat convinced.

“It doesn’t matter! I’m here now and that’s all that counts, isn’t that right Azzy?” He came up to him and wrapped his arm around him, shaking him gently with unfamiliar contact. Aziraphale tensed but tried not to show his discomfort with a tight smile, matching Gabriel’s open grin to the rest of the adults.

“And you still haven’t lost a few pounds since I’ve been gone, huh?” He asked, analysing him with a scrutinising stare. Aziraphale felt a warm blush spread to his face as he became acutely aware of how tightly his clothes were hugging his roll and how chubby his face seemed in comparison with Gabriel’s sculpted cheekbones “That’s no problem. You’ve just got to come with me to the gym in the mornings! Make you a lean-mean killing machine and not soft!” He fake punched his arm in an overly affectionate way and Aziraphale's throat filled with bile as he tried not to let tears of embarrassment fall.

“I… guess,” He managed to muster out, praying that the ground would open up and take him away from the situation. 

“Well, let’s not delay this any further. Let’s all sit down and eat,” His father ushered all of them out of the living room. The adults sprang into action and Aziraphale whipped his head from his brother to his dad.

“Father, can I go upstairs quickly and-”

“No you may not,” Aziraphale stood stunned “You have already delayed this dinner. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Now come on, your mother’s food is growing cold,” His father replied and he strode past him. Aziraphale stood rooted in his spot as his father’s threat echoed in his head. If he had noticed, that probably meant he’ll receive his consequences for missing his curfew. He met Maggie’s gaze as she gave him a soft smile and wrapped her arm around him and led him to the dining room.

At the table, Aziraphale was wedged between Gabriel, who was sitting at his father’s right hand side and Maggie’s mother, with Maggie herself sitting directly in front of him. He stared blankly at the food in front of him, where the ordinary compliments were dished to his mother. A moment passed when the conversation shifted to his revered brother’s life at university, like always.

“You study medicine at Harvard, don’t you? How exciting! Do you find it confusing between here and America?” Asked Maggie's mother. Gabriel’s shoulders relaxed, settling himself up for the routine answer Aziraphale could recite from memory.

“America is simply wonderful. And Harvard is just the most amazing university, or as our American cousins call it, college-”

“-..merican cousins call it, college,” He whispered under his breath, shoving more food in his mouth. Gabriel stopped his speech and threw a pointed glare down at him, his nose crunching in disgust.

“Is there a problem, Aziraphale?” Aziraphale lifted his head to realise everyone had stopped to look at him. His eyes darted around the room as he shook his head. His heart beated loudly in his chest as he realised all the attention was once again on him.

“No. No problem,” He tried to say as nonchalantly as possible and to move the attention away from him again. His father's didn't allow that to happen as he further interrogated his son.

“Is there a reason you are unhappy for your brother being accepted into one of the most prestigious universities in the world?” His father’s tone was cold and it stopped Aziraphale’s heart. Gabriel was in his last year of Harvard, and yet his father still preached about his pride towards his eldest son’s achievement with the same enthusiasm he did ever since Aziraphale was in Year 9.

“I’m not unhappy for-”

“Then what is it? Why are you continuously being rude and disrespectful towards your brother who has been given an amazing opportunity? Envy is a deadly sin, Aziraphale. Are you jealous?” His father integrated and Aziraphale wished he didn’t have food in his mouth so he could defend himself better than shaking his head as he furiously shook his head from his father’s scrutiny.

“I’m not jealous, Father!

“Then you will speak up, or be silent and stop with THE MUMBLING!” His father slammed his fist against the table, making all the cutlery tremble and shake. Aziraphale flinched, turning his head away from him as his mother yelled for him to stop by holding him back. If they were alone, his father would’ve grabbed him and brought him to his study. If they were alone, his father’s hands would be on him to remind him about the consequences of disrespect.

But they weren’t alone.

They weren’t alone and Maggie’s family looked in horror at his father’s outburst. Maggie’s mother had covered her mouth with her hand and the usually unobservant brothers had stopped eating and were watching with their mouths hanging open. He caught Maggie’s eye and he felt pathetic. He was cowering in front of his father in front of everyone and he felt pathetic. He felt pathetic next to Gabriel. Outstanding, Perfect Gabriel that made him the butt of every joke for as long as he could remember. He thought in passing this will only be worst for him, to show that the cracks in the Prince family run deeper than what people expected.

His father had made it clear what happened to those in the family that don’t abide by his standards, that dare to speak up about what happened when the doors are closed. And here he was, pathetic Aziraphale making it clear what happens when they are no longer in the public eye. Do they know? Had he given it away? His father pushed himself up, and rounded the table to where Maggie’s mother was sitting beside him.

“I am so sorry Esther. Can I see you in my study for a moment?” His jaw was tense and his face was red. He was so angry it seemed his rectangular glasses were steaming over due to the wrath radiating off of him. Mrs Service looked between Aziraphale and his father, her mouth still hanging open in shock and fear. Aziraphale kept his head down, stubbornly not letting any more tears fall and refusing to meet her eye. She nodded lamely and pushed herself upwards from the table. As she walked away, his father leaned over his chair and Aziraphale’s body stiffened. He snarled in his ear dangerously low enough so that only he could hear.

“You have single handedly ruined this for me. Don't think I will forget it,” His eyes widened as he tried to remain neutral but his father’s threat overwhelmed his senses and he sat frozen on his seat. He walked away and Aziraphale didn’t dare breathe until he was out of the room. Maggie and her brother’s shared a look of concern and Aziraphale wanted nothing but the ground to swallow him up and drag him down. His mother gave a panicked look, quickly composing herself before addressing those at the dinner table.

“I’ll start clearing up, I suppose. You are all more than welcome to go to the living room,” Maggie’s three brothers shot out from their seats and dashed out of the room, leaving him, his mother, Maggie and Gabriel alone.

“I can help clear up Mrs Prince,” Maggie piped up, already stacking plates.

“That’s very kind but don’t you worry. I’m just fine clearing up by myself,” She stopped and stood with her arms by her sides.

“I’m going to my room,” Aziraphale said quietly. His mother nodded and opened her arms to kiss the top of his head.

“I”ll come with you,” Maggie said but was cut off by Gabriel.

“Um, is it really wise to let some to-be-weds alone in a room with a bed?” Both Maggie and Aziraphale cringed.

“Stop it Gabriel. We won’t do anything,” Gabriel put his arms in defence, shaking his head as if to absolute any guilt or blame.

“I’m just saying. No need to be so hostile, Azzy,” Aziraphale clenched his jaw at his sadistic smirk. A smirk that reminded him how much better he was, and how Aziraphale pales in Gabriel’s light.

“It’s alright Gabriel. They’ve been alone several times and haven’t done anything. We trust them enough to be alone and not forget their Christian values,” His mother said, which thankfully stopped Gabriel from saying anything else for a moment, at least. She grabbed a couple of plates and walked out the room. 

“I’m just saying, Azzy,” He leant down to whisper in his ear and Aziraphale didn’ dare to move an inch “I could hardly contain myself if I was with such a pretty girl, if you know what I mean,'' Suddenly, Aziraphale sensed he was about to see the food he’d just eaten at his brother’s vile innuendo. His face scrunched up and Gabriel tipped his perfect head back and slapped him on the back.

“I’m kidding of course! God, Azzy, don’t take everything so personally,” He pulled him in for another side hug which Aziraphale didn’t reciprocate. “But in all honesty, I’m happy father found such a good girl for you to marry. If you ask me, I was afraid you were going to turn out to be some pansy !”

“How do you expect me to have a fucking faggot representing the family!”

“Crowley has always come here early to pregame with us. Every year. Not this year. Instead, he decided to hang around a pansy like you,”

“It’s because I’m gay,”

“And this, whatever this is or was, it’s gone.”

“I forgive you,”

“Don’t bother,”

Gabriel slapped his back as Aziraphale’s world turned him upside down and off the edge he had been holding for dear life as if nothing had happened and walked into the living room. Aziraphale closed his eyes for a moment, feeling that absurd peace you get when you’re overwhelmed with emotions. He hadn’t allowed himself to process anything, and was thrown from one agonising moment to another.

He’d lost his best friend. He had willingly said that awful thing to him so Crowley had a reason to despise him. After everything Crowley had given him he had twisted the knife he had so carefully been trying to remove. How could he have been so… pious? It was a moment where a friend needed him, not God, not forgiveness. He felt like Abraham, willingly giving his son to God with no explanation and he willingly giving up Crowley for God. How would Isaac have felt, knowing he would never be as much of a priority to his father as God is? What father leaves his son for a knife and chooses God instead. What kind of person leaves the other who has made them feel free for the first time in 18 years and chooses his God who has been silent?

Maggie approached him quietly, and wordlessly linked her arm around his.

“Let’s get you upstairs and we can talk,”

Aziraphale vaguely registered the click of the door shutting as Maggie placed him softly on his bed. He felt his lip stubbornly quiver and he knew he would burst into tears if she dared asked him if he was okay. She sat down next to him, sighing deeply with the stress no 17 year girl should carry.

“I guess we both had shitty days, huh?” The swearing threw him off a little, not used to the church girl he was marrying cussing like Crowley did. He said nothing, just nodded slightly. That is, until he processed her words.

“What happened to you? Are you alright?” He twisted round to face her and she dragged her hands through her short blonde hair. He could see her debate whether she should tell him her problems, and as much as he understood her desire to not say anything, he wanted to know what was wrong. She tilted her head down, inspecting her hands with interest.

“You know that person I told you about? The person I’m seeing?” He nodded, waiting for her to continue “I told them. About this, about us,” Her voice wobbled slightly and gulped down sobs.

“Not happy?”

“Obviously. They say that I can’t just let my parents dictate my entire life and it isn’t fair that we have to break up because it’s what a white man in the sky wants,” She scoffed 

Don’t have a choice, it’s your fucking wedding? What the hell do you mean you don’t have a choice! An old shitty book shouldn’t be able to allow your father to dictate your life! Are you too deluded to realise that that little book is full of hypocrisy and nonsense?

Weren’t those Crowley’s words? How he screamed about the injustice of Aziraphale having no control over his own life because of a book? He wouldn’t dare go against the Bible, he was taught that the gospel was the most sacred and precious thing in life and it must not be questioned. You cannot question God’s law, it’s blasphemy and a one way ticket to hell. And yet he had turned from him because of one line in one book.

“My friend and your boyfriend would get on very well,” A light chuckle escaped them both as they wallowed in the hopelessness of their situation.

“Your vinyl-loving friend who commits blasphemy by buying vinyls online,”

“Oh, he commits worse blasphemy than buying vinyls online,” She whipped her silent tears as a surprised and shocked smile spread across her face.

“My, my! Aziraphale Prince hanging out with a bad boy? How easily the mighty do fall!” She nudged him slightly with her shoulders and he didn't know whether to laugh or cry over the fact he won’t be hanging out with the ‘bad boy’ anytime soon because of this, them.

“Turns out we have more in common than we thought. Being with someone our families deem unfit?” Aziraphale said softly, to which Maggie rolled her eyes and buried her head in her hands.

“Not anymore. They don’t want to see me anymore,” Aziraphale twisted himself around to face her once more in shock.

“What? He broke up with you?” She shook her head at his question but her lip was trembling as she tried gathering composure.

“No, it’s just they’re really pissed off and need time. I fucking hope they don’t break up with me,” She whispered the last sentence to herself, her eye glazing over in a memory untold to Aziraphale.

“Let me talk to him,” Maggie shot up, a look crossed with panic and confusion etched on her face.

“No, no, no, no. Absolutely-”

“No, I think I need to. It isn’t either of our faults we’re in this situation and he needs to know he can’t be mad at you for it. I want you both to be happy and I don’t want to be the reason you guys aren’t. I’ll talk to him man-to-man,” He grabbed her hand, looking in her eyes to convince her. She bit her lip in thought and he could see a thousand emotions and thoughts in her eyes. Her mouth opened and shut a couple times as she conflicted whether to say something. 

Finally, she stood up and started pacing in front of him. His worry grew but said nothing lest she decided not to confide in him. He really wanted to make this up to her. It’s not fair she loses a guy she actually likes for him. She suddenly stopped in front of him and without looking in his direction, she spoke.

“You can’t talk man-to-man because she’s a woman,” Maggie’s fist and eyes clenched shut as she wanted with a bated breath for his response. Aziraphale felt his eyes widen and his heart start to beat faster.

“Oh,” She glanced at him and Aziraphale sat frozen in his spot. I’m kinda seeing somebody else and… you could never be like that person.  I can’t even be seen with them. Them, them them, they, they they. 

Not he, not him, them. 

“Oh,”

“Please say something else, you’re starting to worry me,” Maggie was gay. Very gay if she had a girlfriend. How had he not noticed? It seemed obvious how she had never once used the masculine pronoun for the person she was seeing. She was gay, Crowley was gay. 

Aziraphale, despite her request, still sat with his eyes wide and mouth slightly open. It hadn’t even been a couple of hours since the park and here he was faced with the same problem. Someone he cared deeply about had just come out to him. His felt his heart being tugged in opposite directions. On one side, his heart that served the Lord urged him to make her repent and save her soul before it’s too late. The other reminded him of the last time he did that, he lost Crowley. She was clearly getting more anxious by the second and his deafening silence isn't helping. Slowly he croaked out a response.

“Oookay,” He managed to squeeze out. She jutted her head forward in confusion.

“That’s it? Okay!?” She said and he quickly spurted out a stammer.

“”W-Well what do you want me to say?” He asked and it was her turn to be confused.

“I… don’t actually know. I was half expecting you to start preaching about fire and brimstone and all of that,”

“Would you… like me too?” Her eyes widened and he quickly realised what a stupid request that was. “Sorry,” The two sat in awkward silence for beat, neither of them having the courage to look the other in the eye.

“So you’re… okay with this?” She asked timidly and Aziraphaledidn’t know what to respond.

“I… don’t understand. I thought you were a Christian. How can you choose to be gay when you know what our Lord says?” She scoffed at him and he felt rather defensive.

“I didn’t choose to be gay, I am gay. Just like how I am a blonde,” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She didn’t… choose? Did Crowley choose, or did he just play with the cards he was given? That’s not possible, father always said that people who choose to be gay, deserve the eternal damnation that awaits them.

But he also said that the Crowleys were good for nothing scum. And he was wrong. Crowley wasn’t scum, he was incandescent. He was the sun, the moon and the earth. He was human, with his loud opinions and vulgar language. Could he also have been wrong about this?

“You don’t… choose?” He asked in disbelief. He felt stupid, foolish and felt like the whole world was ahead of him and he was stuck with no way to catch up to the others. Maggie didn’t look at him like that, she saw his conflict, probably even recognised herself in him. She sat back down next to him and she hadn’t changed. She was still Maggie Service who preferred listening to music on vinyl than on streaming platforms. Still the same Maggie Service that wore bright yellow cardigans. Still the same Maggie Service he had to marry.

Just how Crowley was the same Crowley who opened his eyes at what life should be like. Freeing and fun and adventurous and not stuffy and claustrophobic with the light of a candle lighting the bible in front of you. And he thought Crowey had chosen this, chose damnation when all he did was be himself. He was so stupid.

“No, I didn't choose. I am gay and I am a Christian. Probably not as devout as I was before I realised I was gay, though,” He looked at her and she opened up to him after sighing deeply.

“When I did start having feelings for women, I felt like the scum of the earth. I felt dirty and sinful and my prayers felt empty. And I tried, God help me, I tried not to give in. To not acknowledge this part of me. I felt scared that my family wouldn’t love me and I felt alone with no one but with an unresponsive and judgmental God to talk to. It was only when I met Nina that she opened my eyes. God is omnibenevolent and He created me just the way I was. If He would damn me for being gay, why would He make me a lesbian? For the longest time, I thought I had to choose between my faith and being myself, and for the longest time, I didn’t make myself a priority. Now I know that those things are interchangeable and God will accept me for who I am because there is nothing wrong with me,” Maggie stopped speaking, and he could see throughout her speech this unnoticeable weight disappear from her shoulders. He could see the difference now. She was lighter and she seemed to glow in his dim room.

It made sense. He had never been given a second perspective, he was told it was wrong for even thinking about it. But of course God wouldn’t damn His creations for something they cannot control. God is love and He welcomes everyone with open arms. She sighed, shutting her eyes for a moment. His thoughts were interrupted when he realised she said a familiar name.

“Wait, Nina? The girl who works in Give Me Coffee Or Give Me Death ?” Maggie whipped her head around in shock.

“You know her?” His mouth fell open as realisation struck him.

“That’s why she was being rude today! Yes I know her, she really is lovely. I go there every weekend with-” He cut himself off, hesitant to reveal Crowley’s name.

“Your friend? Will you tell me? Please?” It was his turn to pace as he stood up and away from her, his throat closing as his panic rose. “C’mon! I said my girlfriend’s name, so you can say your friend's name!” He bit his lip, glancing up at her from the floor. He coughed and spoke quickly.

“Itsacrowy,” He said in an unrecognisable mess. She didn’t accept his answer and she sat with her head tilted waiting for a proper response “It’s Crowley,” Maggie’s jaw fell and her eyes widened.

“YOU’RE FRIENDS WITH ANTHONY CROWLEY?!” She shouted and Aziraphale shushed her.

“Will you keep it down?”

“I’m sorry, what?! Since when?” He sighed and recounted everything. He told her about how he was assigned to tutor him and at first they didn’t really like each other. Then about how he started trusting him more and more all the way up to this afternoon, where it all went tits up.

“Wait a minute, you’re meaning to tell me that for the past 4 months, you’ve been best friends with the son of your father’s rival that the whole of this side of town has been taught to hate?” Aziraphale nodded “But you’re not anymore because you said ‘I forgive you’ when he came out?” He nodded again and Maggie looked pained. “Are you stupid?”

“I know! I messed up!” He fell down next to her, laying face first into his bed. He turned around and faced the ceiling “I messed up and now he’s never going to talk to me again. And it sucks, I ruined the one relationship that was real. He’s so confident and strong willed, and although he hates me saying this he’s nice! The type of nice and kind that makes him bring grapes to the park to feed the ducks and can ramble on about the stars and I could just sit there and listen and-”

“Oh my God. You’re in love with him,” Maggie cut him off and his eyes widened at her words. He rose from where he was lying to sit back up.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re in love with him,” She repeated and thankfully she wasn’t shouting it. Aziraphale’s blood froze, his heart stopped and the world seemed to be put on pause. He opened and shut his jaw uselessly as his senses overwhelmed him.

“I’m not in love with him,” He stood up and didn’t face her, suddenly finding the world outside his window very interesting.

“Yes, you are. You’re literally describing how I feel around Nina,” He glanced to the side, and stared at the Jesus statue near him. Did He know? Did He know that all his lamentations and suffering he felt inside himself was because he too was-

“I’m not gay!” He said it confidently but his stomach churned and his face heated up “I’m not! I-I like women and I can’t like men because it’s a sin and…” He trailed off as he found Maggie staring up at him pitifully. 

“I can't,” He whispered pathetically.

“Oh Aziraphale,” She lifted herself off the bed and wrapped her arms around him. He clutched at her clothes feeling them go down in a crumpled heap on the floor as his knees buckled underneath the crashing weight of his realisation.

Aziraphale Prince is in love with Anthony J. Crowley.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale couldn't sleep. He tossed and he turned but his body couldn't seem to find rest. He barely opened his eyes to look at his digital clock and groaned when he saw the numbers 2:38 blinking back at him and realised he's been trying to fall asleep with no avail for 3 hours. He was officially done with his first term as an Upper Sixth and yet his days weren't filled with the rest and relaxation he had hoped. After his chat with Maggie, going to school the following Monday was painful. Not only because he had to deal with the revelation of his feelings and what that meant for him, he also had to deal with Crowley acting like he didn't exist. No brief glance in the hallway, no nod of acknowledgement from across the cafeteria, nothing. He could practically feel his anger radiation off of him whenever he walked past him. He didn't show up to any RS lessons that week as they sat next to each other, he rarely showed up in Maths and Bio and he sat in on the opposite side of the library during free periods. So, very painful to say the least.

Aziraphale was falling and he knew he was spiralling downwards but he didn't have anyone to help him. Sure he could always talk to Maggie, but he still felt rather awkward about his little display of emotion when he realised he was…

He still couldn’t admit it to himself. It was like someone was closing his throat and prohibiting him from saying it out loud. He had never allowed himself to think like that, never dared to even think about the possibility he might not be what his family expected from him. The realisation was crushing, and an ever present weight pressed down on him. It sure didn’t help with Gabriel’s presence at home and his backhanded remarks that put him off at all hours of the day.

He rubbed his hands over his eyes, wincing slightly as he pressed down on the bruise on his eyes. His confidence grew falsely when his father didn’t call him into his office when the Services left, or when the weekend came and went. He was properly reminded of his father's justice when he came back home from the last Friday of term and left a mark as a reminder to not doubt his authority. This also gave him a pass to miss church that Sunday, which he was guiltily thankful for, as he felt undeserving of stepping into the church knowing what he was. He looked up and felt the space where his Jesus statue once hung bare. He couldn’t bear having the Lord watch over him and his battle with his internal conflict. Aziraphale’s whole world was turned upside down. He couldn’t have imagined a future where the Lord wasn’t a source of comfort for him. But now the slightest mention of religion, something that he thought would be with him his entire life, made him sick to his stomach

The house was silent and a soft stream of moonlight trickled into his room from his window. He hesitantly reached over to his drawer and fished out his phone. The soft light of his phone illuminated his face as he opened the message app he used with Crowley. He’d been doing that a lot recently. He had no idea that going no contact with Crowley would be so hard and he found that re-reading old messages made him briefly forget he had possibly ruined their relationship forever. Sometimes, he caught Crowley online with him and he held his breath wondering if he would send him a message or if he was thinking of him like he was. He never did send that message.

He rolled onto his stomach and started mindlessly scrolling through their texts. He scrolled to November, where Crowley sent him practice questions he did for their first set of mocks and his compliments. He scrolled to October, where Crowley had sent him photos of them at that party and the videos of him ‘sinning’ and all the way to September, when that first message was sent. He idly clicked on a link to the Instagram, where Crowley had sent him a short video and captioned it with ‘us’. He watched the video once, then twice until he could see the video ingrained in the back of his eyelids. He clumsily navigated the app, still unsure about all this social media stuff.

It was when he was scrolling through a discovery page of sorts when a post caught his eye. It was of two women, with one of them holding out a hand with a diamond ring on it. His first thought was that they were sisters or friends, and his heart grew warm at the closeness of their relationship. He scrolled to find another picture attached to the post, and the two women were kissing. He realised rather late that the two weren’t friends, they were together and engaged to each other. He tried, as hard as he could, to stop his rapidly beating heart and the warmth spreading through his cheeks. He wanted to do better, so he needed to remove his father’s beliefs that were drilled into him, and it was proving harder than expected.

Aziraphale turned his gaze to the caption, which was a heartfelt recollection of their relationship so far. And they were happy, happier than his own parents, who had a ‘correct’ relationship. He could feel it through the screen, their love and it helped calm him down a bit. He hated this, how he was so on edge around something completely normal, but it was a subconscious reaction and he kicked himself whenever it happened. He wanted to be better, he needed to be better than this. Maggie was right, God wouldn’t make someone queer and then condemn them for it.

…Lucy Prince, I can’t wait to make you the blushing bride you’ve always wanted to be

The name caught his attention from his thoughts. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion when realisation set in. He nearly didn’t recognise those blue eyes, but how could he not know his own? He clicked on the account with shaky hands and a small gasp escaped him. He was met with Samuel’s Instagram account, except it wasn’t Samuel, it was Lucy. Hundreds of pictures flooded his screen of his eldest sister living and smiling.

She looked different, obviously. But it wasn’t the long dark hair that hid their father’s blondness and was longer now, or the outfit choice that would make their mother weep, it was the eyes. It was one of the things they had in common, and yet they looked different. They looked… alive. Alive with a happiness that never possessed them when she was still living here. The constant weight that seemed to follow her around was gone and she seemed lighter than ever.

It shook him to the core.

He remembered clearly as if it was yesterday when he last saw her. The screaming, the crying, the yelling.

He waited in the cool spring breeze for his mother to turn the keys in the lock. He heard Samuel sigh from behind him. He internally rolled his eyes as his brother met all the moody teenager qualifications despite what his father thinks. He nodded politely at his mother’s words about dinner and her day. The door swung open and the three walked into their home. As they hung their coats by the door, he heard his father’s steps from down the hall get increasingly louder

“Is Samuel with you?” He asked his mother, his tone cool and dangerous. He felt his brother tense up behind him as he poked his head out from around his mother. When the two locked eyes, his father’s face twisted in fury.

“HERE NOW!” Samuel hesitated, and Aziraphale wanted nothing more than to push him along. He didn’t want to find out if he disobeyed a direct order from his father. Aziraphale was just young enough to think his father would be merciful in his punishment, old enough to know what the worse could look like, or what he thought was the worse. Samuel took a tentative step, and another. He stopped their mother from going with him, and a silent conversation was shared between them. His father stood shaking, growing angrier by the second. Samuel spared them a backward glance, and his eyes betrayed his fear.

“Come on dear. Let’s get you something to drink,” His mother ushered him quickly into the kitchen. The house stood still for a minute. Then another. Then he heard it. 

A thump.

A thump could mean anything with his father and his heart beat intensified by the second. A crash, then a scream. Aziraphale’s hand shook as he raised the glass of juice to his lips, draining the cup like a man in the desert. His mother told him to go upstairs and close the door behind him. Muffled yelling, another scream. He picked his book bag from the floor and made his way up the stairs. With every step, the screams grew louder and blood flowed to his face, desperately muffling the sounds of agony. He reached the top of the stars and was about to turn to his room when something caught his eye.

The door stood slightly ajar, and the fluorescent light slithered its way out. He stood frozen as Samuel fell into his view and sucked in a breath. His nose looked broken, twisted on his face and the contact with the floor caused his top teeth to stab his lip below it. His face was puffy and swollen and small cuts littered his face. Aziraphale’s world seemed to pause, and he met his brother’s eyes. His brother who cleaned up his wounds and used makeup to cover up a blooming bruise. His brother who used to laugh with him at Gabriel’s pretentious attitude. Aziraphale couldn't breath and bile rose in his throat at the sight of his brother crumpled on the floor. He wanted to help, he wanted to stop this suffering and make his father see sense. His father stalked into view, looking down at him with disgust. He shot a hand downwards and grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling up Samuel from the floor as he yelped in pain.

“How do you expect me to have a fucking faggot representing the family!” He shouted, his voice raw with anger. Aziraphale’s eyes widened at the words as he recognised their meaning. Samuel was… no that was wrong, father said it was a sin. How could Samuel do that to himself? He had disobeyed God, John Prince’s eldest son had disobeyed God. That didn’t make sense, Samuel was normal. He got good grades and when he did see him in the hallways, he was the perfect model. He was Aziraphale’s perfect model. He felt sick, he couldn’t believe that the brother he looked up to was-

“Dad, please ,” Samuel whined, reaching up to his hair to release some tension. Their father used his other hand to grab his throat and Samuel gasped for air.

“You have ruined this election for me! How could you be so selfish? Skipping school to smoke and drink. How could you defile your body with shit? ANSWER ME, DAMN IT!” His fury seemed to rise every second Samuel spent catching his breath and not answering his questions. 

“ Aziraphale… ” Samuel gasped out meekly. Aziraphale felt his blood freeze as his father raised his gaze ever so slightly and noticed the door was ajar and his youngest son was standing there. He slammed him to the ground and Aziraphale can still hear the crack of a bone and the wheeze from the desolate body that was his brother.

“Have you got anything to say, Aziraphale?” His father filled the rest of the doorway and he could see but a sliver of Samuel left. Aziraphale’s throat felt hoarse despite being unused. Aziraphale panted as he turned his gaze downwards. He met Samuel’s gaze once more, and he saw him mouth the word ‘please’ as tears streamed down his face.

But what could he do?

“No, father. Sorry for interrupting,” His father formed a sick and twisted smile. The door closed with a click. 

The shouting continued until dark.

Aziraphale pulled himself from his thoughts, his eyes filled with tears of guilt. He felt as sick as he did that spring day. He could’ve helped, he could’ve stopped what happened. Instead fear had taken over his controls and he bent to his father’s will. He held a hand to his mouth to muffle the sounds of his sobs and forgotten guilt made itself known. He felt that familiar helplessness drown him and soon he couldn’t control his body shaking in anguish.

It was a minute, or maybe an hour when he calmed himself enough to gather his wits once more. He wiped his tears from his eyes, taking a moment to breathe in and out. He forced himself to scroll through the photos of Lucy. He saw she lived in London, and he wondered how close he was to her without realising. He saw her girlfriend, a nice looking blond woman called Chloe Decker, and how they had adopted a black cat called Lilith. She was happy, she was free.

And he wasn’t.

The button was there. He could open the DMs and send a message… saying what? Apologising? Saying hello? He simultaneously had so much and nothing to say to her. Would she even want to see him? After all he did to her, after allowing his father to drag her down the stairs and out the house with nothing but the clothes she had on and broken bones. He could never forgive himself. How could she ever forgive him?

Chapter Text

Crowley's alarm rang for the fifth time that morning, interrupting him from his beauty sleep he desperately needed after a term of doing actual work. Before he could turn around and hit snooze for the sixth time, he heard his bedroom door swing open and someone stomp in.

"I swear to God, Crowley. If I hear this fucking alarm one more time, I'm bashing it over your head!" He barely peeled his eyes to be greeted by the sight of his older sister, who came back home from Uni for the holidays.

"Lovely to see you as always, Beelzebub," He pulled his covers over him to try and get more rest. Or at least, tried to as they pulled the covers off of him in one quick sweep, exposing him to the cold as a few strands of their short hair fell in front of their face.

"No more sleep. You'll need all the time you can get to get ready for dad's party," And with that, they turned and left his room with his blanket in an effort to get him up. He barely registered the sound of items that were on his bed clattering to the floor as he curled up on himself to preserve some body heat. Right, his father’s new years party that he’s wanted to host for forever and yet Crowley couldn’t muster anything close to the excitement his father radiated on the cold December day.

He was rotting, and he knew he was rotting but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. The last week of term was the worst. He reverted back to old habits, much to the chagrin of his friends who took advantage of his low self esteem and willingness to do anything to forget, forget, forget . He missed most of his classes, especially RS as he couldn’t deal with sitting next to Az-Prince.

He got high and/ or drunk so many times that week that even his usually blind father noticed something was wrong. But he didn’t talk to him about it, only sticking a note onto the fridge the following day reassuring he could talk to him. Crowley scrunched up that note and stole more cigarettes from his father. Despite their close relationship, Crowley couldn’t talk to him, he could never talk to him. Not about this, not about the fact he came out the one person who he thought he’d never lose, which was a fucking stupid thought.

He’d experienced bad reactions to him coming out. Shax, for example, who cried when he told her he didn’t like that way because he didn’t like any women like that and she’s one of Crowley’s closest friends. So why did this one make him feel like the shit underneath people’s shoes? Perhaps deep down he knew that whatever fragile relationship he and Prince had could never work. For fucks sakes, I mean the man couldn’t go anywhere with him without worrying who would recognise them. It was toxic and he was becoming too dependent on the angel of Earth.

He didn’t really get better when Beatrice came back from Uni with a surprise stay. Or at least, a surprise stay for him because apparently his father did warn him at some point. He loved his sister, they always told funny stories of clueless Americans from their university. But no American who thought Europe was a country could even tease his lips upwards. He spent his days in his bed, not bothering to take care of himself until Beelzebub had to physically drag him out of bed to take a shower. He felt his spirits slightly raise, especially when Beelzebub surprised him with Hozier tickets for the summer. ‘To celebrate dad’s win the election’ they said and suddenly he was drowning in his head with memories of a bet made when he was high and a flush of warmth from sky blue eyes. 

He tried to not think of Prince. He tried to not think about him in church, living peacefully with absolutely no worries or regard for what he left in his wake. He really did try, but his gift that Crowley had bought before everything kept picking at the wound and not letting it close. He eventually shoved it so far back in his wardrobe, he was surprised it didn’t end up in Narnia.

And so he rotted for a month, not bothering to do any of the revision he had planned. The sky was unusually sunny for late December and the frost on his window indicated that it was still cold as balls outside. He stared at his messy room, wondering when the last time he could see his floor was. He caught a glimpse of himself and scrunched up his nose at the reflection in the mirror. His hair simultaneously laid flat with grease and up with sleep. He should seriously take a shower. He didn’t want to ruin his father’s public appearance by looking like a plagued rat from the 1800s

Actually, the plague originated in the 1300s, with the highest cases being between 1346 and 1353. Interestingly, the last few recorded cases were from the 20th century-

He refused to acknowledge the voice that sounded strangely familiar to a certain blonde and started to get ready.

Aziraphale adjusted his tie in what seemed the millionth time in the mirror, brushing away any imperfections he spotted. He futilely tried to style his curls, only for them to fall in exactly the wrong place. His whole house was bustling with life, the multitude of voices singing along to Christian rock and 60s hits. Over the first few weeks of the Christmas holidays, his older siblings had all showed up and his house felt more crowded than ever. They still treated him like the baby of the family, despite the actual babies his sister Michela, who was supposed to be a boy called Micheal but came out with certain bits missing, brought from their own family. He felt particularly sorry for Maggie, who seemed to be at his house constantly for a meal with a new sibling every other day.

He could feel his blood flowing underneath his skin with both excitement and fear. He tried his best to have fun at his father’s party, however the lack of upbeat music and families that judge whether or not your dancing is too ‘unholy’ made it very hard to not sit and drink your non alcoholic drink. It was different this year, as the fact whispered in the back of his head. He’d be seeing Crowley in a few hours, for the first time since their last horrific encounter and he was anxious beyond humanly possible. The underlying truth always broke through however - Crowley probably had no intention of even looking in his direction, so why would he strike a conversation? Aziraphale remained hopeful, however unsupported his delusion that Crowley might spare him a look.

A knock at his door broke him from his worries and anxieties and before he could respond, his door swung open, and Michela popped her head around his door. The soft babble of her kid on her hip carried on in the background.

“We are all waiting. Hurry up or you’re going to make us late,” Before he could stammer out an apology, he felt Michela’s eyes scanning him up and down “Why aren’t you wearing your fitted suit? Father ordered it especially for tonight,” Aziraphale dusted himself down with slight confusion.

“This is the fitted suit,” He spoke softly and Michela’s eyes widened as a small laugh escaped her.

“Wow, I had no idea you were that big a size. Never mind, are you ready to go, then?” She said and Aziraphale felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment and gave her a small nod. She left and didn’t bother to close the door behind her. Aziraphale gave himself one last look in the mirror, now hyper aware of how big he seemed and how accentuated his body appeared. He turned around to leave and he was met with Crowley’s present, which he had pulled out this morning and was debating whether or not to bring it. He really shouldn’t, they weren’t even talking for goodness sake. Why would he bring a Christmas present to someone he had no intention of speaking to?

He grabbed it and shoved it into a pocket before going down the stairs.

Aziraphale tried not to listen to any of the conversations that happened around him in the car. It was the same old conversation they had every year, with his father recounting who he invited but now his father insisted in bringing up the fact that his and Maggie’s relationship is to be announced. He felt like he was on the edge of the world, and one slightest knock in the wrong direction could send him falling down. He tried his hardest not to fiddle with his ring, as a cruel voice in his head reminded him of the only person that noticed his fiddling when he was nervous. He was so caught up in his own thoughts, he almost didn’t hear his father’s tone switch.

“What is going on?” His father muttered under his breath. Aziraphale lifted his head to look out the car window and his eyes widened. The usually spacious car park was crowded with twice as many cars as usual. People either gave up finding a spot in the car park and decided to park elsewhere or stubbornly parked their cars in the middle of the roads. Aziraphale saw the crowd of his father’s supporters, angels that were muttering among themselves at the cause ensuing. His father was one of the people who parked in the middle of a road, and quickly got out.

He approached one of the people who was gathering outside, a tall dark man whose daughter Uriel hung on his arm confidently.

“Elijah, what is going on?” Aziraphale heard his father say. He caught Uriel’s eye, giving her a quick smile which she did not return.

“John, there has been a mistake,” Her father said. Aziraphale’s father started walking in, with Elijah following to continue his explanation. “I have tried to remind them what generous donations you bring and they still won’t let us pass-”

“It’s alright, Elijah. I can handle this,” His father cut him off as he approached the front desk with a terrified receptionist behind it “Hello. I have a reservation for that conference hall right behind you. It should be booked under John Prince,” His father said smoothly. The receptionist gave a nervous laugh before responding.

“I-I know, sir. It’s just- there was a problem with the booking and-”

“Problem? What problem? I called and reserved this hall like I have done for the past 7 years and you will let us through or I will-”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” His father shot his head up at the new voice and his face soured. Standing at the doorway was Aleistar Crowley.

“You,” He growled, which only increased the smirk on Mr Crowley’s face. Aziraphale had never seen him this close, having always been warned about what will happen if he dares fraternise with the enemy. However, he was shaken by just how similar the family resemblance was between him and his son. The high cheek bones, the tall and lanky figure and that sideways smirk that inferred he always had something up his sleeve.

“Hello John. Always a pleasure to see you. Last I checked, however, I don’t remember inviting you and your family to join us,” He said sarcastically and Aziraphale’s heart twisted with the familiarity of a certain redhead.

“What are you doing here?”

“The real question, John, is what are you doing here?” He responded smoothly. He crossed his arms and leant on the door frame in a very Crowley manner that Aziraphale gulped quietly.

“You know what I’m doing here! You know I host my gala every year and you have stolen it. Who did you have to bribe this time?” Aziraphale watched how Mr Crowley’s previously relaxed posture stiffened. He stood back up and stalked forward to his father. Despite him being shorter, his father stood his ground as Mr Crowley leant in dangerously close

“I don’t know what you are referring to,” He said, almost growling in his face. His father scoffed, and promptly forgot about the rest of the people gathered around watching the exchange silently.

“You know damn well what I’m referring to. Now, stop acting so childish and leave,”

“ Childish ! I’m not the one throwing a hissy fit because I can’t get what I want. If you want to behave like children, then I say that you should leave because I was here first!” He leant away from his father, crossing his arms as he stood his ground. His father rolled his eyes.

Aziraphale saw his father start to rebuke, but his eye was caught by a movement behind Mr Crowley. He watched as the door to the convention hall opened and walked through Crowley. Oh my God, it seemed that in his absence, Aziraphale had forgotten just how gorgeous he was. His hair had gotten cut and gelled slightly back, but it was still long enough so that short tufts of hair could be seen from his neck. If that wasn’t extremely attractive, Crowley was wearing a cut fully black suit, with the top buttons opened dangerously low in a way that all his perfect angles and figure was displayed. He was wearing his glasses but Aziraphale could just imagine his beautiful golden eyes, along with some subtle eyeliner like the one he did on Halloween.

In summary, Crowley was frustratingly handsome.

Their eyes met for the first time in nearly a month and Aziraphale’s heart tightened. The world went fuzzy, and focused on Crowley and Crowley alone. It didn’t matter his family and father and supporters were a few metres away from him, he wanted nothing more than to run up to him and beg for his forgiveness. But they were there and he could do nothing but to stand frozen with emotions as Crowley looked at him like that.

“You don’t deserve this hall, so you need to leave!”

“Don’t deserve it! Your judgement could freeze beer, John!” Slowly, Aziraphale returned to the world, and he realised their fathers were still arguing. 

“If I may, sirs,” The two men stopped their bickering as they looked at the small receptionist. “The hall is big enough that you could just… share?”

“Share? You are joking, right?” His father straightened himself as he adjusted his rectangular glasses.

“If we were to split it down the middle, there is still plenty of space for both of your parties,” She said. The two men gave each other a disgusted glare, before Mr Crowley slowly relaxed.

“I guess that could work. What do you say? How about we demons teach you angels how to have a party?” He offered jokingly, but his father reacted as if he had requested he dance naked.

“If we do this, we need some sort of… agreement,” His father still seemed tense, as if the whole situation was horrific. Mr Crowley’s grin spread and he held out a lean hand, resembling very closely to the devil himself offering you a deal for your soul.

“Of course, John. We wouldn’t want anyone to be uncomfortable, would we?” He flashed all the angels behind his father a toothy grin, and a ripple of fear shook their party as the wolf grinned. After a moment, his father sighed deeply and took his hand.

Mr Crowley’s ego at making his arch nemesis resign seemed to inflate massively, as if someone had lit a fire underneath it and he smugly gestured at Crowley to open the doors. The effect happened instantaneously, as all the demons inside, who were oblivious to the commotion outside, noticed their space was being invaded with angels. Outraged murmurs spread across the room, along with a couple variations of ‘What the fuck?’.

“Relax everyone! They won’t be bothering us for the evening, they’ll just be sharing the same space,” Mr Crowley said. Aziraphale hung tightly his mother, who was trying her best to not look terrified at the prospect of being with a bunch of demons for several hours. Aziraphale’s gaze helplessly snapped to Crowley, who was looking at his father as if he had lost his mind. Their eyes met again and his face flushed red. He felt his arms being grabbed and he was brought to his father’s face as he whispered his threat.

“I don’t need to remind you of the consequences, should you try and ruin this by trying to socialise with degenerate criminals, do I?”

Having Crowley be this close and yet unable to even meet his gaze for a couple of seconds for the next hours?

“No, sir,”

This was going to be horrendous

The atmosphere was awkward, so thick you could cut it with a knife. The music that was loudly playing was turned down so low that it was inaudible because one of the angels didn’t want her snivelling brat to listen to ‘the devil’s music’. The dance floor, once resembling a mosh pit, was left empty as demons and angels stuck to the walls of their respective sides in fear and unwillingness to be seen fraternising with the enemy.

Crowley gripped his plastic dangerously tight as he gazed in Prince’s direction. He was sitting solemnly with Newton, who looked entirely out of place considering the only reason he was invited was because his father believed he and Aziraphale hung out every Saturday, as well as some blonde who hadn’t left his side the whole night and who was caressing his arm comfortingly. This must be the future Mrs Aziraphale Prince. Crowley was not at all jealous, after all, he didn’t care what or who Aziraphale did as they weren’t talking any more. 

Who the hell does she think she is? Getting to touch him and stroke him like a fucking dog. It wasn’t fair how someone he barely knows gets to do that and Crowley is reserved to hugs under a musty picnic table in case anyone saw them. But it was fine, because Crowley wasn’t jealous at all. Crowley wasn’t jealous but he wanted to scream, to tell, to do anything to make Aziraphale stop staring sadly into a cup filled with water and to notice him. He saw in his mind how Aziraphale reacted to seeing him for the first time in a month. How he froze stared at him like the most ethereal being in the world and how his chest started to rise and fall faster than before as if his heart was skipping beats.

In summary, he was checking him out.

Which didn’t make any sense, considering Aziraphale was definitely not gay, if their last interaction was anything to go by, but did he have to look at him like that? With those full blue eyes who widened and glazed over with fondness everytime he did something n-i-c-e? He was hot, Crowley knew damn well he was hot, considering he had unbuttoned one more button than needed and the fact Shax was tripping over herself to talk to him. And Aziraphale…

Well, if Aziraphale was obliviously cute normally, he was drop dead fucking gorgeous tonight as he wore a pure white button all the way up mixed with a lovingly worn vest that hugged his figure in all the right places. Halfway through the night, he had rolled his sleeves up, and Crowley was unfortunately reminded of Halloween where his arms were on display and Crowley had never been hornier.

Despite Aziraphale practically drooling over him - which didn’t make any sense because he liked women - Aziraphale hadn’t spared him another glance after Crowley caught his eye when they came in. Not that he wanted Aziraphale’s attention, considering they weren’t talking. But it would be nice that he wasn’t in misery alone and that Aziraphale was feeling shitty as well.

He shot back the horrible mix of champagne and Ligur’s cheap ass vodka, drinking purely for the % and not taste. It seemed to work, as the alcohol reached his bloodstream much faster and the welcomed buzz made its way in his head. His shithead friends had left a half hour ago, as he was being ‘fucking boring’, to do something he had already forgotten so he was sat alone wallowing in his situation. 

He was one more gulp from doing something he’d regretted before he felt two presences sit down beside him. He narrowed his shielded eyes and recognised that the figures next to him were Nina and Anathema.

“Jesus, you smell like a dive bar,” Nina muttered and he found himself too drunk to act offended, whilst taking the cup out of his hand.

“Thank you! It’s a new cologne I’m trying out,” He responded sarcastically while she just rolled her eyes. She passed it to Anathema, who smelt it and promptly placed it far away from them.

“At least we’re all having fun,” Anathema said into her own drink.

“I’m actually having a shit night. I dunno about you though,”

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock. We were being fucking sarcastic,” Nina snapped at him, looking like the only reason she wasn’t hitting him was because she chose to take another sip of her drink. Crowley and Anathema shared an awkward glance

“Someone’s angry!” He leant in and tried to quietly sing in Anathema’s general direction, but it came out louder than he expected and was now noticing that his drink was missing. She sighed, shaking her head in thought.

“Sorry. I guess I’ve had a rough couple of weeks with no one to talk to,” She admitted quietly.

“Tell me about it sister!” Both girls turned to look at him with an ‘are you serious?’ look “That was wrong, wasn’t it?”

“On so many levels, but you get one pass ‘cus your drunk out of you fucking mind,” Nina said.

“So, what’s wrong with you both?” He asked - or tried to as he was slurring his words the more he talked.

“You really want to know?” Nina asked incredulously.

“If I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t have asked,” He sat slightly straighter in his chair, trying his hardest to focus on Nina as his view became increasingly more blurry. She bit her lip in thought, swirling her cup before sighing deeply.

“Y’know that partner I told you about?” 

“The one you mentioned in October and still refuse to tell me her name? Yeah, I remember her,” She shot him a look but decided not to comment.

“Well she’s kinda… seeing someone else,” 

“Damn! She had a secret boyfriend or something while you were dating?” He asked in shock. She quickly shook her head.

“No. I mean- kinda? It’s her mother. She set her up with someone else and they’re supposed to get married-”

“-MARRIED!?”

“Will you keep your voice down? But yes, she’s supposed to get married to this guy who she doesn't even like and instead of standing up for herself, she just allows it to happen. I just- couldn’t do it anymore,” Her jaw tightened and Crowley could recognise her stubbornness to not let any tears fall to ruin her makeup. She dried her drink, slamming the empty cup on the table nearest to her. He was about to offer the same words of sympathy, when he realised her words, and dots connected.

“Wait, is your secret partner Margaret Service?” Nina whipped her head to look at him in surprise.

“You know?” She whispered quickly and nearly inaudibly.

“Aziraphale told me. That’s the girl he’s being forced to marry!” He straightened in his chair again to lean closer to Nina. She let out a chuckle in disbelief.

“How fucked up is that?” She asked both of them. Anathema chose to just nod and take a sip of her drink. Nina turned her attention back to Crowley, and he got the feeling he was about to be placed in the spotlight “What about then? What’s wrong with you?” Crowley shook his head.

“Nothing’s wrong!” He said in an embarrassingly high pitch.

“Of course. That’s why both your’s and a certain blonde-haired Prince’s auras are fucked up,” He heard Anathema say. He shot her a glare.

“The only reason you’re here Book Girl is because my father is under the impression I am spending my time with you and not Aziraphale,” He said warningly, but received an eye roll instead of her scurrying in fear.

“You still haven’t answered my question, Crowley,” Said Nina from the other side of him. He threw his hands up in exasperation and sank lower in his seat.

“Fine! The reason our auras are fucked up is because we aren’t talking any more,” The two girls shared a look over him.

“Really? We aren't stupid, Crowley. Why don't you try and tell us a piece of information we don't already know?!”

“We want to know why!” Crowley looked at both of them and groaned. He dragged a hand over his face and started to speak again.

“Well, the last time we talked, he told me about his situation,” He gestured to Nina, who nodded in understanding. “And I told him it was bullshit and that he should just run away at this point. I even said I’d join him too,”

The two women looked at him, then at each other “Moving past the tragic queerness of that sentiment, but I’m getting that that’s not the whole of it, is it?” Crowley heard one of them say.

“I'm gonna hit you with my car,” He mumbled grumpily, the threat not scaring the other girls. He groaned “I may of… maybe kinda… cameouttohim,”

“What did you say?”

“I came out to him,” He repeated and bashed his head against the table in front of him.

“YOU WHAT!?” They both shouted, making some of the adults surrounding them to look at them.

“Now look who has to keep their voice down?” He asked with his face still smushed to the table.

“I’m guessing he didn’t take it well?” He heard one of them say

“No! He took it very well. Started talking about how I should repent and ask for God's forgiveness- OF COURSE HE DIDN'T TAKE IT WELL!” He lifted his head off the table to find both girls looking at him with either disappointment or pity. He couldn’t quite tell which was worse.

“So what?” He turned to Nina. “You came out and he started acting like the heavily religious Christian you knew him to be and then you left?”

The words “Not exactly,” Came out of his mouth before he could process them and the two girls leant in.

“I knew that wasn’t the whole of it!” Said Anathema, which caused another glare from Crowley. “So, what did you do?”

He put up his hands in self defence “Why do you assume it was my fault?” She simply raised an eyebrow, which made Crowley sigh in defeat “I kinda forced him to say that he forgives me,” Silence hung heavily as his gaze flicked from one girl to the other, suddenly very thankful for his dark lenses and deeply missing his shitty drink.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Nina deadpanned.

Crowley spluttered “Don’t call the most influential kid in town an idiot! That’s illegal!”

“I’ll do whatever the hell I want. Why the fuck would you do that?” 

“I was just saving myself the pain!” He blurted out. He knew the reason, and he knew it as a dumb bet he made when he was high to an absolute dickhead of a friend. The bet was always there in the back of his head, saying he didn’t deserve any of Aziraphale’s long stares or warm hands. He didn’t deserve it 'cus he was a prick who was taking advantage of him. This fucking bet that was both the best and worse thing that happened in his life. With it came a joy and affection he wasn't aware could even exist, but with it came the pain that would happen. A pain that would come from him fucking it up like he always did.

A moment passed before he spoke again “I was getting too… attached and I got scared. I’ve never really let anyone in and the one person who was worming his way into my heart was fucking Aziraphale Prince. Maybe deep down I knew that if he knew me- like really knew me, I would scare him off. I don’t think I could’ve lived with myself if I scared him off for good,”

“That still doesn’t explain why you made him say… that of all things,”

“‘Cus he wanted to! You said that he was heavily-religious, he’s know for it for fucks sakes. So, he wouldn’t have wasted an opportunity to convert me or sumthin,” It’s what he told himself to sleep at night.

“Would he though?” Anathema chimed in from the side. “You literally hung out with him for 6 out of 7 days a week for nearly 4 months. Did he give you any indication at any other time that he wanted to save your soul so to say?”

“Well, he did try some more blasphemous things despite his conflicting feelings with God, but that doesn’t…” He finally named the emotion in the girls’ gaze. It was pity “I fucked it up for no reason, didn’t I?” He asked quietly.

“Well, that’s the first smart thing you’ve said all evening,” Nina slapped him on the back, and Crowley hated to admit the way his eyes watered. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone but he had cried a lot this month. He hated that he found himself crying over Aziraphale Prince of all people, but he couldn’t help it. He thanked whatever deity might be up there that his glasses hid his watery eyes - they didn’t, but Crowley wasn’t aware that both girls could see his misery even with the glasses on.

“I miss him so much. He was an angel and how am I ever gonna get him back?” He asked pathetically, smashing his head against the table that he missed the pitiful stare he was given by them both.

“Oh, I don’t know. You could talk to him considering he’s less than 10 metres away from us you idiot,” Anathema said, her annoyance at his misery evident in her tone.

“I can’t just walk up to him. We’re supposed to be-”

“-hereditary enemies. Yeah, we know. We all know of this stupid rivalry between grown men!” She shouted. She drained her drink dry and crossed her arms and huffed in anger, Crowley cautiously lifted his head once again.

“I am sensing some underlying tension,” He muttered. She tossed him a look.

“It isn’t fair how an idiotic feud such as your father’s with Mr Prince dictated an entire town. Thanks to that, I can’t talk to my boyfriend, even though he is literally right fucking there,” She pointed him out explicitly and he gave her a small wave. This was apparently the worst thing he could do because some stuck up snobby Karen-looking motherfucker scoffed with disgust and looked like she was given him words of reprimanding. Anathema’s jaw tightened and she went for another sip of alcohol, only to remember she had finished it half a minute ago.

“Then go talk to him,” Anathema looked at him as if he had transformed into a fucking snake “I’m serious. Both my father and his know you guys aren’t their strongest supporters, so it would make sense if you didn’t stick so strictly to this feud,” Anathema looked at him, then at Newt.

“You really think I should do it?”

“Yes. And, you’re gonna talk to Maggie and tell her to meet Nina in the women’s bathroom in 10 minutes where you,” He turned to Nina, who had just realised what he was going to say but had no power to stop him “are going to have a long and deep talk. And make up by making out or something,” Nina shoved him roughly.

“You are gross. And I can’t talk to her. I just-”

“Look, if my chat with Aziraphale told me anything, it is that neither of them are happy about their situation. They’ve just been brainwashed by their zealot parents and are too scared for their safety to speak up. Think about it, Maggie can’t just come out to her family if they are that involved with the church. Back me up here,” He turned to Anathema for support when he finished.

“He’s kinda right. I mean, you don’t even need to be able to see auras to see they wouldn’t be in this position if their parents didn’t force them. Besides, looking at their shared auras, it’s entirely platonic as well,” Crowley gestured to Anathema and Nina looked entirely conflicted.

“I didn’t realise that coming over for pity reason would result in me having to face my ex girlfriend,” 

“Looks like what we all needed was a chat. Just us girls. Now, I think someone has a boyfriend they would like to speak to,” He gave a pointed look to Anathema, who reached over and grabbed his original drink - the mix of champagne and vodka - in order to finish it off. Before she could react to the atrocity that was its taste, she got up and crossed the hall as both angels and demons watched with bated breaths.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale was thankful for Maggie’s soft words and touch, despite him not really listening to what she was saying. He was trying his hardest to not meet Crowley’s eye, which was harder than expected considering it felt like Crowley was only watching him. He had to resort to staring at his shoes and passively feel Crowley’s stare on him like a blanket. But then it stopped and it was like Aziraphale could breathe once again. He saw Crowley, with Nina and Anathema, who were talking among themselves, occasionally raising their voices to be heard over the soft lull of the music. It didn’t need to be said but the three angels were missing their respective person, despite them being in the same room. It was like they were in a different world, with a thin impenetrable veil between them.

But then that veil was lifted, as all three angels watched as Anathema stood and marched over the opposite side of the hall with confidence. Aziraphale could feel his chest tighten as he realised she was heading his way, or at least, near him as she fell into the seat next to her boyfriend, who looked equally shocked and scared.

“Oh God, that’s horrendous. How the hell was he drinking that?” She asked herself as she stole Newt’s cup of water and drank it to get rid of the taste of the drink. She looked around to the three of them and realised they hadn’t said a word or moved since she sat down as if she was a ticking bomb. “Hello,”

“Hi,” Newton whispered. “What are you doing here?” He looked around and noticed that the adults near them were staring them down with disgust and outrage.

“I’m here to talk to you. Obviously,” She sprawled on the uncomfortable plastic chair as if it were a throne. “And to you,” She turned her gaze to Maggie, which caused the rest to shift their focus.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. There is a certain tall, dark, and beautiful barista who would like to meet you in the women’s bathroom in 10 minutes,” She said, slurring her words slightly.

“She wants to speak to me?” Maggie asked almost incredulously. At that time, she looked over, to where Nina was looking at her and taking a drink.

“God, you are all so hopeless. Yes, you now don’t keep her waiting,” Anathema waved Maggie in the direction of the main entrance. Maggie looked torn for a second, as she looked at Aziraphale for help with her lip bit. He nodded slightly, which sent her dashing off and away. He watched her go with a smile, of hope and encouragement. He hoped, for her hope, that they make up, as he hated to think of the reason he denied someone he now considered a close friend happiness. However, his smile started to falter, when he caught his father’s eye. His jaw was clenched and was looking at him with his pertinent wrath. Aziraphale knew that look, it was a look that meant he would visit his father’s study and receive the consequences for consorting with the enemy.

“Anathema dear, as much as I… understand your desire to be with Newt, you really must get back to your own party,” Anathema shifted her focus away from her soft conversation with Newt to Aziraphale, her annoyance radiating off of her.

“Why?” She asked and Aziraphale didn’t know how to respond. “If you really don’t want me here, then I am taking my boyfriend to the other side,” She started to stand and drag Newton away.

“No!” He grabbed Newton back. He was aware that everyone was watching them interact, but if his father saw that Newt may be on Mr Crowley’s side, he wouldn't be permitted to talk to him. He’ll be stuck in that house for the rest of his life, with no freedom or happiness, carefully avoiding the wrong planks in case they squeak and judgement is brought down upon him. He couldn’t do it, he could barely do it now, how was he supposed to live like this?

“Listen, we have been dating longer than we have cared about this stupid feud. Just because two grown men can’t decide whose dick is bigger, doesn’t mean that we have to suffer the consequences,” She stood firm, her arm crossed defensively. But Aziraphale wasn’t looking at her, she was looking at his father as he stalked forward like an apex predator. He couldn’t breath, he couldn’t move as he watched helplessly as his father approached them.

“Hello, is there a problem here?” He placed his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder and stood still, eyeing it with his peripheral vision.

“No sir,” She placed her arms behind her. “I am simply wishing to spend New Years Eve with my boyfriend. That’s alright isn’t it?” 

His father gave her a strained smile with iron control “What is your name, young lady?”

“Anathema. Anathema Device, sir,” She met his eyes, which caused his father’s hand to slowly start crunching his shoulder. Aziraphale tried his best to not squirm and give away the increasing amount of pain he was in.

“I see. You were invited by Aleistar, weren’t you?”

“That’s right. Me and my aunt,” She replied instantly. Another squeeze and Aziraphale couldn’t help the small whimper as he felt the bruise form.

“I am glad you are enjoying your evening. However, you must leave this side of the hall immediately and return to your party,” He gave her a smile, which seemed nearly crazed and dangerous in Aziraphale’s eyes. A bait to play and become prey. She took it.

“Why should I?”

“Because it is not done!” His voice raised slightly as his control started to slip.

“I see that but me and Newt have never been invited to one of these events before. So why should we follow these rules that have never applied to us? If we can have a romantic relationship as teenagers, why can’t you as a fully grown adult have a civil relationship? I’ve seen playground fights be handled with more maturity than you and Mr Crowley!” Fear gripped Aziraphale, as he watched his father grow angrier with every word she spoke. He was going to hurt her, he was sure of it and there was nothing he could do but watch.

“She does not mean that!” He tried to get between them, but the hand on his shoulder blocked him. Suddenly his father was digging his nails into his arm, and he couldn’t help the cry of pain from his mouth

“I will hear nothing from you, you worthless-“

“I suggest you release your child now before you hurt him,” Both of the Prince’s mouths dropped and eyes widened as Aleistar Crowley stood protectively behind Anathema and Newt. His father scoffed indifferently, but Aziraphale could see the fear in his eyes. He had nearly lost control with every one of his potential voters watching. He quickly let go of his arm and Aziraphale bit the sigh of relief back.

“I am not hurting him. I love him, I would never hurt him. Isn’t that right, son?” Aziraphale's heart was racing and he barely heard his father’s question, his sense still high on alert for an attack. “Isn’t that right, Aziraphale?” He asked slightly sternly.

“Yes, sir,” He replied “Never hurt me, father,” He raised his gaze to find Mr Crowley looking at him with concern. He refused to think that his father never looked at him like that.

“Get this girl back to your party, Aleistar. She does not belong here,” Mr Crowley didn’t give any sign of acknowledgement, as he leant down to talk to Anathema.

“Why did you come here?” He asked gently.

“I wanted to spend New Years with my boyfriend. It seemed silly we couldn’t when he was in the same room as me,” She replied. Mr Crowley stood back up to face his father.

“I don’t see why that should be a problem,” He shrugged and his father’s jaw dropped in shock.

“It isn’t done, Aleistar,”

“But why not. They have a right to be their own person without the person they endorse being their own personality. If you keep them in a box, how can you expect them to grow?” Aziraphale noticed his gaze and he flushed red. His father, the good guy, had trapped him in a cage and Mr Crowley, the bad guy, was trying to unlock it. This was right, but his brain refused to believe or accept it.

“If you don’t regulate them, how can you expect them to not run wild and out of control? The perfect examples are your two devil spawns!”

“Don’t you dare bring me children in this,” Mr Crowley shifted. No longer was he the kind, compassionate man he was being, but back to his character. He looked dangerous, just how his father had told him. At a flip of a switch, Mr Crowley lunged forward to drag his father to him by the lapels of his blazer.

This was Mr Crowley. This was the type of behaviour he endorsed, the type of behaviour his father warned him about. Aziraphale no longer was in the space, as he watched on as others sprang into action. Some tearing them away, some encouraging violence and the few that were dragging the children into safety. And he watched as his father fought back, doing his best to not engage in violence. It would ruin his image. He watched, but saw how one figure was not engaging and was slipping away quietly. He watched Crowley head to a hidden door, and pushed it open to let himself out.

He really should stay where he was. After all, his father was this close to killing a man. He should find his mother, or Maggie, or as an extremely last option, Gabriel. 

He should definitely, a hundred percent, absolutely not follow Crowley.

The air outside was cold, as it normally is a late December night. They were behind the building, facing out toward the edge of Tadfield, their own personal realm. Not nearly as impressive as the view on the hill on Halloween, but a reminder that while they were stuck here, all they could be was a Crowley or a Prince. He hadn’t noticed him yet, but Crowley sat on a curb and Aziraphale saw the familiar glow of a lighter and two seconds later, a soft streak of smoke started to rise out into the air.

He stood still and silent. He shouldn’t even be here, he shouldn’t talk to him at all. But they had talked, and they shared secrets and insecurities and laughter. He knew everything about him, and had to act like he wouldn’t catch his eye if he were walking down the street. A stranger he knew everything about.

“I thought I saw sneaking away,” Crowley whipped around at his voice, the glasses still on his face, but eyebrows raised in shock and fear. For a moment, Aziraphale pretended that he would smile and wave him over to sit by him, like normal. 

But he didn’t. 

He scowled and turned back to his cigarette. “I’m not surprised. I guessed- well, we-we guessed that they wouldn’t be able to spend more than an hour in the same room, let alone a whole evening . Right?” Crowley turned around as he spoke, an ever present frown on his face.

“What do you want?” He heard carried in the wind. He met his eye for a second and his heart skipped a beat. This was the moment he had dreamed of. Of finally being with him again. As friends, of course. But what would he say? What will he say, as that moment he had fantasised about was here and now.

“You were right, you were right,” He spun around. “I was wrong, you were right.”

A beat passed.

“I thought a spin might be nice. Appropriate,” He gave him a warm smile, he looked at him with hope. His heart was practically falling out of his chest; it was beating so fast. Crowley paused to take a drag of his cigarette, and for a moment, Aziraphale thought he saw forgiveness. Crowley turned around and Aziraphale’s hope snuffed out.

“Fuck off, Prince,”

Prince.

Prince.  Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince.  Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. 

Not Aziraphale, not angel, Prince. It was over. He had screwed up his relationship with Crowley. Aziraphale’s heart got caught in his throat and his knees felt weak, as if they’d collapse under his weight. He was trapped, for the rest of his life as Crowley would fly away and forget about the silly angel he talked to for four months. He wanted nothing more than to buckle his knees and grovel for forgiveness.

“No,” He whispered. Crowley turned to face him, with confusion written all over his face.

“No?” He asked. Aziraphale walked towards him and sat himself next to him. Without really thinking, he grabbed the cigarette out of his fingers to take a drag himself. He forced himself not to cough through his next sentence.

“No, I am not going to fuck off , because I have been absolutely miserable for an entire month, and I have thought of nothing other than you and how much I miss you and our talks. So, I am not leaving until you hear me out,” He huffed out in anger. Crowley stared open jawed and said nothing for a painfully long minute.

“You-You just swore,” He managed to splutter out. Aziraphale turned to look at him.

“I apologise. I am very worked up and stressed at the moment,” He brought the cigarette back to his mouth and took another drag before handing it back to Crowley, who was still staring with wide eyes and shock.

“It’s… It’s fine. I-I don’t mind,” Crowley said, choosing to bring the cigarette back to his lips and definitely not think about how Aziraphale’s own lips were there a moment ago. “I have yet to hear this apology,”

“Right. Yes, of course” Aziraphale steeled himself, shutting his eyes as he tried to gather all the strength in him. He simultaneously had nothing and everything to tell him. Where could he even start?

“What I said to you that day was not only rude and ignorant, but cruel. I should never have insinuated that there was something wrong with you, something that I believed only my beliefs and view could fix. I see now that you have no need for forgiveness, when there was nothing you should be apologising for. And nothing I could ever do would show the extent of my guilt by how I treated you. You shared a very… intimate part of you with me, and you needed comfort, not judgement,” 

Crowley said nothing which did nothing to calm his racing heart. His last name said from Crowley’s mouth replied over and over as he spoke. He wasn’t Aziraphale anymore, or angel, but Prince, a reminder of the everlasting wall between them. A wall that’ll be there forever. Crowley refused to meet his eye and Aziraphale was very close to screaming and crying like an idiot in front of him, a desperate measure to get any clue in how he was feeling. After an agonisingly tense and slow moment, Crowley stubbed out his cigarette and turned to face him.

“If you’re gonna apologise for what you said, I should probably apologise for forcing you into saying it,”

“Crowley, please-”

“No, it’s true. If I didn’t have this irrational fear of losing you, I wouldn’t have push you away  or forced you to say it-”

“Crowley, shut up!” Crowley looked back at him with his eyebrows raised in surprise. “It wasn’t you. It was me, or actually, how I grew up. Not that I’m excusing it but I-,” Aziraphale placed his head in his hands, feeling the tears right behind his eyes and ready to spill. He took a deep breath as he ran a hand through his hair.

“It’s like I was born with a blindfold on,” Crowley looked slightly confused which Aziraphale took as a sign to continue. “I was born blind, and since I was born, the people around continuously warned me about how people would take advantage of me and guide me into danger. How they were the only people I could trust, because they loved me and wouldn’t let me get hurt. I believed them. Of course I did because I had nothing to compare them to. And for the first 18 years of my life, I happily let myself be guided without ever questioning the hand I was holding. Then, I met you and-” He took a moment to breathe as his voice cracked. He turned away from Crowley, who was still wearing those blasted glasses that gave away nothing of how he was feeling.

“Then I met you, and instead of guiding me around, you said to remove the blindfold. You were the first person they warned me about taking advantage, and instead you helped me open my eyes for the first time. But instead of being happy, I- I got scared. Scared that the world around me was not what I thought it to be. Scared that I had wasted 18 years of my life because I trusted someone blindly. But more importantly, I was scared of what I would find if I took the blindfold off and saw myself,” He hugged his knees and refused to look at the other boy.

“Why are you scared of looking at yourself?” Aziraphale didn’t quite know how to respond to him. The words got caught in his throat whenever he tried to voice them. In that moment, all the pent up and repressed emotions he had felt for the past month caught up to him and He found it very hard not to cry.

“I’m scared that, no matter how hard I try, I will never be what my father expects me to. He expects me to lead a good Christian life with a big and perfect family and I just… can’t. I can’t knowing that the person I would share that with, I could never…” He allowed himself to trail off and take another deep breath.

“I know,” He finally turned to look back at Crowley, who had finally taken off his glass, and he could help the smile on his face “This whole thing about you and this marriage is fucked up, You should be able to find a girl you like, not your father,”

“It's not that,” He said without really meaning to. He watched Crowley raise an eyebrow.

“Oh?” Aziraphale’s mouth suddenly felt very dry and he gulped. He hadn’t voiced this to anyone before, not even himself. Maggie sort of knew, but he had never said the words .

“It's because I don’t know anymore if the person I want to share that, a life with is… a woman,” He had said it. He couldn’t hide anymore, he could un-say his words. They were out in the open and Aziraphale was one step closer to accepting that part he longed to hide and destroy. Crowley said nothing, and Aziraphale kept flicking over to him and he watched as the dots aligned. Both eyebrows shot up and his mouth dropped slightly open

“ Oh ,” He breathed out and a sour smile spread on Aziraphale’s face.

“Yeah oh. I think that part of the reason I behaved the way I did when you told me about you is because some subconscious part of me, however small it may be, resonated with it. And I didn’t want to confront it. I had run away from it for so long and suddenly it was staring me right in the face and I… I panicked. Plus, growing up the way I did, I guess I always shut that part of me away and tried to pray that it would go away,” Crowley was looking at him and not saying anything. It did nothing to calm Aziraphale’s heart. Aziraphale couldn’t quite name the emotion in Crowley’s eyes but he somehow felt supported and off balance at the same time.

“You… you think you’re-”

“I don’t know,” He cut him off. He didn’t want him to say that word yet, not when he hadn’t thought of what that would mean to him and his relationship with his family and God. “I mean, I’ve never thought of anyone like that before. Then suddenly, I'm getting all these thoughts and feelings and they are getting harder to hide and I don’t know what I am or what to do. It gets so overwhelming and it’s like I’ve got a mountain on me,”

“You know you don't need to know who you are, right? It's totally normal to be… unsure,”

“But then what am I? If I can't be who my father wants me to be, and I don't know who I am?” For one awfully long second, Aziraphale thought he wasn’t gonna respond. It was a question he had battled for years, and for years he thought delusionally that it didn't matter, as he will just be what his father wants him to be and that’s the end of it. It’s only since someone offered to take the blindfold off that he started truly questioning how to answer it.

“You are someone, who goes along with what he knows as far as he can,” Crowley said with a tone of finality. Aziraphale looked out in front of him and Crowley copied soon after. Aziraphale gulped quietly as a sense of uneasiness reared its ugly head in his stomach.

“That sounds…”

“Lonely?” He turned back to Crowley, who was rolling a stone under his shoe. He nodded his head.

“Yeah” Aziraphale replied. Crowley shrugged with a helpless smile. He met his eyes once again and Aziraphale’s heart did something funny.

“It is,” They both let out a breathy chuckle, which grew every second. It grew into a giggle, then a laugh and then into a manic guffaw that had them clutching at each other to stop them from rolling around on the dirty concrete floor. And like that, a month of absence and tears and despair was gone, and it was back to them being them. Aziraphale thought he could see his worries and fears leave his mouth with every guffaw he produced, and he thought he saw Crowley’s leave too.

“We’re both hopeless, aren't we?” He asked with a smile, which Crowley returned.

“Oh definiety. Utterly useless!” He dragged a hand through his shorter hair and a fond smile settled on Aziraphale’s face.

“I've missed this. Missed us,” He admitted quietly when they had calmed down a bit more. Crowley nodded, his own affectionate smile on his face.

“Me too, angel,”

Angel.

Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. 

He couldn’t help the way his smile grew and he was this close to screaming with joy and making a ridiculously high pitched squeal of happiness. Not Prince, not Aziraphale, angel. In his mind, that was proof that he hadn’t lost him, no matter what his brain had said for the past month

“Don’t look at me like that. Might go to my head,” He nudged him by his shoulder, knocking him slightly off balance and he was so happy he didn’t even register the sharp shot of pain from his father that travelled over his arm.

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that,” Crowley rolled his eyes, but his smile gave away him away. “So… we cool?”

“We cool?” Crowley looked outraged, and Aziraphale felt his hope diminish by fear for a moment. “When have you ever uttered the phrase we cool?” 

“Yeah, that didn't feel right at all,” He chuckled nervously and Crowley’s smile dropped.

“Seriously! You're getting well out of control, angel. Swearing, smoking and refusing to use the verb To Be in the past 1st person plural.” A beat passed when Crowley began to smile again. “But yeah, we cool,” Aziraphale gave him a soft punch in the arm.

“Don’t scare me like that!” Crowley put his hands up in defence as Aziraphale kept hitting him softly. Then that moment passed, and they were left sitting next to each other in silence. The silence was deafening, as the two ran out of things to talk about. That is until Aziraphale spoke up.

“Do you think they're done killing each other?” He looked back to the door that led back to the convention hall. He strained his ears to hear anything that may give away what was happening inside, but he heard nothing.

“I don't know, but we should… probably go look,” The rest of that sentence was left unsaid. We should go look and go back inside. And not talk but share secrets and conversations through the hall with silent eyes.

“Is it bad that I don't want to?”

“Why is that, angel?” Crowley hadn’t made any move to leave them and go inside, and Aziraphale took it as a sign that Crowley may be thinking the same.

“I want to pretend, just for a few moments more, that we can be friends and be like this. Whenever we want and not only when there's no eyes on us,” Admitting what had been unsaid was utterly freeing and terrifying at the same time. Crowley sat still and didn’t stand up and call him silly. Instead he just shrugged and settled better on the hard curb. 

“That’s okay. We don't need to do anything we don’t want to do,” Aziraphale relaxed a little. “But you’re sure that it has nothing to do with a certain announcement of a… certain joining?” He asked with a sly smirk on his face.

Aziraphale shook his head. “Actually, we aren’t doing it anymore. Father said that he doesn’t want to risk ‘your people’ ruining it by announcing it so… publicly,” Aziraphale avoided eye contact and Crowley made a strangled laugh escape.

“I’m sorry?” He said with a hint of a question. The other boy shook his head whilst tucking one of his curls behind his eye.

“Please, I should be thanking you and showering you with gifts. I can now avoid it for a bit longer now,” Crowley made a strange face, before standing up whilst muttering “Talking about gifts…”

Aziraphale watched him leave confused and sat silently worrying about what he meant for 2 minutes before he got curious about where Crowley went with no context. Just as he had decided to go and look for him, Crowley ran around the corner, holding something in his hand. Aziraphale dragged his gaze up and down as Crowley got closer and handed him the book he was holding. Tentatively, Aziraphale grabbed, and saw it as a worn copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray.

“What is this?” He asked, looking back at Crowley.

“It’s your Christmas present,” He replied and Aziraphale felt his heart surge in something he called affection. He already had copies of this book, and it looked more damaged than he would’ve liked and if it wasn’t Crowley giving it to him as a gift, he would be outraged that someone would treat a book this badly. But he wasn’t and he suddenly wasn’t all that disgruntled that the book had slightly creased corners and a cracked spine. And he certainly wasn’t going to do something that might upset him right after he had gotten him back like refuse a gift.

“Wow, this is… amazing. You really didn’t need to do this. I mean, I’ve read this before but I’m sure this is a perfectly good edition and-”

“Jesus Christ, that was very hard to watch. The present’s inside,” Crowley said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Inside? You better not have ruined this book than…” The words disintegrated in his throat when he caught sight of Crowley’s messy handwriting and highlighter. He silently flicked through more pages, his heart beating faster with every scrawl and comment. “You-You read and annotated The Picture of Dorian Gray ?” Aziraphale had to rip his eyes away from the book to look for signs of dishonesty in Crowley.

“Well, you’re always going on and on about this Oscar dude and I wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” He shoved his hand down his pockets and kicked the loose rocks instead of meeting Aziraphale’s gaze.

“You read and annotated The Picture of Dorian Gray … for me?” Aziraphale asked almost incredulously and a hint of fondness.

“Not all of it, actually,” Aziraphale skipped to the end of the book to find the annotations missing about 80 pages away from the end “I kind of shoved it to the back of my wardrobe and didn’t let it see the sunlight until, like, today ‘cus… well y’know,” Suddenly, the awkwardness was back and Aziraphale chose not to say anything else.

“Well, thank you. I would have loved it regardless of its condition,” Aziraphale said, hugging it close to his chest. Crowley snorted whilst rolling his eyes.

“Please, you don’t have to lie to me. I saw the face of agony when you saw the creases,” Aziraphale made a noise of protest but he thought of no truthful words to deny his accusation. He opened and closed his mouth uselessly for a couple more seconds before changing the topic of conversation.

“I thought I said, however, that I was to shower you with gifts. Not the other way around,” He asked pointedly and Crowley waved him off with another shrug.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Without missing a beat, Aziraphale grabbed the small box he had grabbed on his way out and held it to him. ”What is it?” Crolwey asked, examining it like it held the secrets to its contents on the outside.

“A good red headed friend of mine said that research finds that opening boxes reveals more results than asking,” He repeated smugly from that one late September day when Crowley had given him his first gift, a trend he continued for many months later.

“Alright, you don’t need to be a smart ass about it,” He lifted the lid off and in that moment, Aziraphale wanted to rip it from his hands in regret. He watched as Crowley pulled out a familiar ring in the shape of wings. Subconsciously, he grabbed his own pinky ring and started fiddling with it as he waited for Crowley to reveal anything that exposed his thoughts. He felt his mind swirl with insecurities the more Crowley stared in silence until it was physically bursting out of him.

“It's alright if you don't like it. I had to lie and say I got it for Maggie to my father because I couldn’t really explain that it's for you, obviously which narrowed my options a lot and I already didn't really know what I should get you to say thank you and-” He rambled for a few seconds before he was cut off.

“Shut up. It’s… brilliant. Fuck, you’re brilliant,” He growled out and Aziraphale had to bit his cheek to stop the grin already spreading across his face. He also tried to stop the warm blush spreading across his entire body, although he was less successful in that than the former.

“Oh, oh thank you,” He replied. He watched with a dry mouth as Crowley slipped the ring, a silver version to his golden one, onto his long fingers. Aziraphale tried not to focus on the way his mind was running wild with ideas as he saw Crowley with his ring on his finger. Crowley placed their hands next to each other, the rings clinking against each other. “It fits perfectly,” He managed to stammer out after he removed his heart from his throat.

“We’re matching,” Was he trying to kill him? Aziraphale had clearly not thought this through because he was currently trying not to move in case Crowley could somehow feel how quickly his heart was beating looking at their matching rings. He tried looking anywhere else but his hands, but his options without making his internal panic known were either Crowley’s arms or the ground. However, as he was moving his eyes, he caught sight of his clock on his wrist, the small arms indicating it was very close to midnight.

“Oh look at that. It’s 2 minutes to midnight,” He pulled his arm back to look at Crowley. “Time flies when you’re having fun, right?”

“Of course, angel,” A beat passed and as the warmth disappeared from his body as he calmed down he felt a shiver run down his spine in the cold December air.

“I guess- I guess we should go back inside then. I think if we miss the New Years countdown, people would get suspicious and we’d get caught,” Crowley’s jaw tightened at his offer, and Aziraphale decided to think it was from the cold. The other boy nodded and a moment passed when neither of them took their eyes off each other and didn’t move. Then, when the cold was starting to get unbearable, Aziraphale made his way back to the door.

“Hey angel,” He turned around at the sound of Crowley’s voice. He had his hands back in his pockets and was looking down at his shoes. “You know that thing you said? About you thinking you were gay?” The word the other said so casually set off Aziraphale’s entire response system. He tried not to let his uncomfortableness show on his face, as he didn’t want to risk upsetting Crowley with his ingrained and outdated beliefs that were clinging in his mind like a plague.

“I dont think I'm.. like that. I-I'm probably just confused and stressed with exams and uni applications, that's all,” Crowley nodded and he looked very conflicted from where Aziraphale was standing. He scratched the back of his neck, blowing out a puff of air that condensed in the cold night.

“Well I know a way to… clear the confusion,” He finally met his eye and he could see his panic glaze over his golden eyes. Aziraphale stepped closer to him.

“Oh?” He asked as Crowley took a deep breath with his eyes closed. Crowley paused again and Aziraphale’s worry and curiosity grew as he watched Crowley shuffle nervously where he was standing.

“You could.. y’know, experiment ,” He somehow managed to bury his hands deeper into his pockets. Subconsciously, Aziraphale knew what he meant. He knew he did because his heart started to beat faster than normal for what seemed the umpteenth time this evening.

“What-What do you mean?” He stammered out and Crowley opened and closed his mouth as he decided on what to say before responding.

“Like I dunno. You could… kiss someone,” He threw one hand up to try and convey the natural and casual purpose of his suggestion. Aziraphale gulped and he was suddenly confronted with a part of him he didn’t like. When he said he never thought of someone like that, he really meant it. For every time he caught his eyes wandering at the dress of the pretty girl at church or the tight shirt of a man, the voice of his father telling him to be pure chastised him and bent him back into the box he was starting to emerge from. It was probably very easy for Crowley to do that with anyone he wanted, as you’d be a fool to not take up the offer to get to touch and kiss Anthony J Crowley, but for Aziraphale, it was his own personal road of torment glued down with years of forced chastisements and threats.

“Oh! I don't know if I’d be up for it,” He fixed his blazer lapels, trying desperately to shake the rising anxiety he was feeling.

“Exactly! If you just try it then you will know. You probably won't be confused anymore,” Aziraphale looked at him as if he was mad and as much as he wanted to put this conversation to an end but telling him no, he refused to be like his father. He refused to shut down anyone who offered a second opinion because it didn’t align with his. In the months where he was talking with Crowley, every time he caught himself behaving like that, it plagued his mind up until he was in the early hours of the morning worried that he made Crowley feel like he did in that house. Alone, scared and hopeless. Through a deep sigh, he managed to respond.

“I've never done anything with anyone. At all,” A small, twisted part of him, for a reason he couldn’t quite name right now, didn’t want Crowley to stop talking about. But he prayed, he prayed that Crowley would stop. It’s what’s best for him, as clearing up any confusion he had would save him from many sleepless nights, and he didn’t want to push down a part he had hidden for 18 long years. But it was hard to let go of that mentality. That mentality that validates and supports irrational fears and causes them to bloom on the cold pillow where his tears fall.

“I know angel, I’m just saying you should just try it once with either a girl or a boy and… see if it clears things up,” Aziraphale nodded silently. Crowley felt like his heart was about to fall out of his chest with how nervous he was. He hadn’t even thought this through but he was going to tough it out. Aziraphale stood in front of him, trying his best to conceal what he was feeling. He could see how anxious he was but he pushed. His new ring sat on his finger as it sent a constant hum along his body. A reminder that Aziraphale had gotten him a ring which Crowley was going to overthink the second he got home. Although, with how this is going, he might just find out his true feelings. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing yet.

“And if I do want to try it? Try doing it with a… boy,” He barely managed to utter the last word and Crowley felt somewhat bad. He couldn’t imagine having to grow up in someone else’s box of rules and regulations. Sure, his father had made sure to discipline him and reinforce valuable key life lessons, but he let him grow into himself . He let him grow into Anthony Crowley, not Aleistar. And here Aziraphale was, being brave and stepping out of the cage he had resided in for the last 18 years of his life.

“Then you kiss a boy,” Thankfully, it came out a lot smoother and more confident than he was feeling.

“I can't exactly go around kissing… boys! What if my father finds out?” Azirpahle scoffed out, crossing his arms around himself.

“Well, then you get someone you trust and know won't say anything,” Crowley said.

“And who exactly are you proposing I ‘experiment’ with then?” He said, with a smile edging on bitterly. Crowley stared back to the floor and the words were coming out quicker than he could stop them

“Me,” There was an agonisingly slow moment where no one said anything, which did nothing to calm either of them down. Crowley peeked up to look at him, his face still somewhat hidden. Aziraphale stood frozen by the door, his mouth dropped open in shock as if he hadn’t expected for Crowley to actually offer it.

“You?” He whispered. Shit, abort mission.

“Or not. I don't know why I said that. That was stupid,” Crowley chuckled nervously and wanted to place the glasses on his head back on his face as if they’d magically transport him into another dimension where he wasn’t a fucking idiot. Aziraphale responded with his own nervous laugh as awkwardness spread back into their conversation.

“Yeah,” He realised what he said and tried to quickly correct himself. “I mean, no it wasn't that stupid. It’s just- you're trying to help me that’s all, right?”

“Right. Definitely. Dunno what came over me,” Aziraphale let a second pass before he spoke up again.

“It was very nice of you to offer, though,” The other boy smiled as he watched Crowley’s face cringe at that 4-letter-word he loathed so much.

“Maybe we shouldn’t then. ‘Cus we wouldn't want anyone to think I’m nice,” He mumbled to himself. Aziraphale pulled his mouth into a thin smile.

“Oh no, of course not. That would be very bad for you,” The wind whistles passed their ears and the two boys were left staring at themselves. Both feet were glued to the ground, as neither of them wanted to turn away from the other. Crowley watched Aziraphale touch his ring with his other hand and his own finger instinctively pressed against the cool metal. Aziraphale gave him an awkward smile and Crowley half wanted to jump off the nearest building. What the hell was he thinking? What did he think would happen? 

This is actually a blessing in disguise. At least Aziraphale wasn’t shouting at him and telling him that the church and God can save him this time. It was their comfort zone, never quite tipping their toes into the unknown, into the next step. Aziraphale, after what seemed like 6 millennia had passed, turned to move back to the door and suddenly, Crowley didn’t want safe, he wanted new.

“Although-” He started.

“Yes?” Aziraphale turned around quicker than he could blink and was moving further away from the door.

“There the tradition, y’know, around this time of year involving a kiss. ‘Spose good luck and all that,” He awkwardly ran a hand through his hair, still getting used to his haircut and waited. He waited for Aziraphale to push him away and call him a creep for insisting they do this. But he did none of that. Instead, ever so agonisingly slow, he moved until he was right in front of him. A single step would press their bodies together and he was looking up at Crowley with those round blue eyes he could stare into for the rest of eternity.

“Well, if it's tradition then it really is the perfect opportunity to… do this.” He looked him up and down and his eyes were wide with panic but glazed over with excitement. Holy shit, is this happening? Did he die of hyperthermia and this was what his consciousness imagined before he died? He realised then that he hadn’t said anything until Aziraphale spoke up again. “I don't know what I'm doing,” He chuckled nervously and he wanted to capture and bottle that laugh for himself. He let the smile naturally grow on his face as he looked at him.

“Don’t worry, angel. I’ll be gentle,” He was close enough to feel the consequences of his words as the ever-so familiar red spread onto Aziraphale’s cheeks and the way he sucked in a breath as his eyes shuttered.

“Good to know. So, what do I do?”

“Well there’s loads of different types, of course. Best if we keep it simply for now” Aziraphale nodded and Crowley slithered a hand to cup his cheek. He felt slightly the quickening pulse underneath his fingertips and he couldn’t help but smile as his courage grew. “Is this okay

Aziraphale nodded silently before replying “Yeah-yeah that’s good,” He darted out his tongue and dragged it across his lips, which only spurred Crowley on. He could see the irregular rise and fall of his chest below him but didn’t dare to take his eyes away from him.

“Right, so basically you just kind of… press? I don’t know how to explain it,” He chuckled nervously. As a second passed, they heard cheers and shouting inside the hall and they both looked it’s way. They could briefly hear the faint counting down from 10 , and realised their time limit. Aziraphale gulped, confidence blooming in his eyes as he turned back to face him and spoke.

“Maybe it's best if we take a practical approach,” He said as he looked up through his eyelashes. Holy fucking shit, Crowley thought he might just writhe on the floor and pass away. He felt his breathing restricted by the tension between them. He flicked his gaze to the other’s lips, the anticipation sending shivers down his own spine. This was it, they were finally, actually about to do this. This was insane. He nodded, licking his own lips in response

“Definitely,” He said. He titled his head, pausing just above the lips of the other. He felt Aziraphale’s breath on his lips and he breathed it in, getting higher than any spliff ever did. 

3 . Aziraphale didn’t move, only met Crowley’s eye from above him.

2 . He slowly started to close his eyes.

1 . Crowley closed the gap and their lips finally met.

As if it were magic, he suddenly understood the fireworks he saw in movies as Crowley decided that kissing Aziraphale Prince was heaven on Earth all for him. He pressed himself closer, slotting their lips together and all that was left unsaid was communicated. Aziraphale, having never kissed anyone before, was surprisingly good, which only fueled Crowley onwards. He grasped onto Aziraphale’s hair, thanking whoever might be up there that he’s able to run his fingers through his soft curls.

Aziraphale instinctively made a soft sound of want against his mouth, and Crowley drank it up. He curiously pressed harder against his, which Aziraphale thankfully accepted as he wormed a hand onto his neck, holding him, feeling him, touching him. Crowley pulled back to breathe, and Aziraphale chased him, this time with him initiating the kiss.

It was unlike any drug Crowley had taken and ten times more addicting. He allowed himself to wrap a hand around his waist, pulling him as close as possible. Aziraphale threw his arms around his neck, pulling him down and into him and Crowley allowed himself to fall deeper into him. Aziraphale made another sound against his mouth, something so blasphemous that was going straight into Crowley’s long term memory.

Oh, how he had dreamed this. How he had dreamed of Aziraphale pressed up against him, making needy little whines that he would lap up like a starving dog. And he would fall deeper into him, push him against any sort of surface and just-

100 quid I can shag Prince by the end of the year. Deal?

The memory came down like the crack of a whip. He pushed Aziraphale off him. His eyes shot open, gulping down as he panted hard and he watched as his breaths condensed into the cold December air. No, no he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t take advantage of him. No matter how much Crowley wanted him, he couldn’t hurt Aziraphale like that.

“I- I need to go. I’ve got sumthin to do with my dad and I-I can’t,”

“Crowley?” Aziraphale said, confused.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have offered,” He couldn’t look at him. He burnt holes into the ground, turning harshly from the other boy “I’m sorry. I can’t-”

“Crowley, wait!” Crowley didn’t turn as he pulled the door open and slammed it behind him. Aziraphale ran to the door, getting stopped when the door closed in his face. He was alone, after having kissed Anthony Crowley.

And he liked it.

Oh, he liked it a lot.

He pressed his fingers to where Crowley’s mouth was a moment before. His breath trembled as he looked back to the spot where they both were standing. Only a few feet away is where he had his first kiss , with a man. He had felt completely at Crowley's whim and he felt his self control - and self respect - leave the second Crowley had touched him. He had no idea something could be that intense and amazing.

But he had run off like a startle bird for no reason. Why had he run away, like he had done something wrong? Did he do something wrong? Did he do it so badly that it didn’t compare to the other faceless boys he had kissed in the past? Maybe that was it, maybe Crowley regretted ever trying to help him. Maybe he thought Aziraphale was only using him to figure stuff out about himself. He should’ve said no. He should’ve prioritised their precarious friendship over one simple, stupid, mind blowing, extremely memorable kiss. 

Suddenly, that ever so present sense of guilt and shame came crawling back and grew its roots around his feet, freezing him still outside. He leant backwards, letting the door catch him and slid down to the floor.

“Oh, fuck ,”

Chapter Text

Aziraphale was in a daze for the rest of the evening. After he managed to regain some composure, he shakily opened the door to the hall. It seemed that in his absence, a true miracle had happened as demons and angels were talking and celebrating a new year together. Or, at least, the youngest generation, seemed to forget the silly etiquette they had enforced on them for their whole lives. Some of the older parents looked on with disgust and concern that their child was getting tainted and ruined by someone of the opposite side. Try as he might, however, Crowley was nowhere in sight, and his sister, who Aziraphale had only seen in the hallway photo, was also missing. He tried to join the festivities, and was momentarily thankful that his father didn't approach him to discuss where he had been.

The rest of the night ran smoothly, although Aziraphale felt a little bit abandoned as both Maggie and Newt were with their respective person - Maggie, of course, not as open as Newt was being as it would be very bad for both her and Aziraphale if she, the next Mrs Aziraphale Prince, was seen with a Crowley supporter - although Aziraphale had the feeling that wherever she may be, a certain bartender wouldn’t be far behind.

It was around the 1am mark, where families with young children started to say goodbye to him and his family. Then came the few stragglers who were simply tired of celebrating the new year until the hall was finally left empty at 2:30am. Mr Crowley, who was clearly under the influence of something, tried to have small talk with Aziraphale’s father, but he got rejected and ignored before he could produce any form of noise.

The ride home was quiet and Aziraphale couldn’t help the way his eyes shuttered close. Everytime he closed his eyes, he could see Crowley’s face right before they’d kissed. He still couldn’t quite believe that he actually kissed Anthony Crowley. The way his lips were parted and wet, as his amber eyes darted around his face to search for any kind of rejection or concern. The truth was, Aziraphale had never been so nervous and so thrilled in his life. He felt his heart pulsing throughout his whole body and that second, that agonisingly, painstaking, slow second before the ever present gap was closed he had never felt more alive. He was sure that the Holy Spirit Itself was coursing through his body and making him experience some sort of religious experience. 

Gabriel, strangely, didn’t speak a word to his father the entire time Aziraphale came back. Maybe he was tired, maybe he simply didn’t want to talk to anyone, but he kept looking at Aziraphale with a hint of something he couldn’t quite name in his drowsy state. The Prince household was quietly buzzing and Aziraphale excused himself to bed the second he reached their front door. He all but slammed himself into his room and he couldn’t help the excited smile that grew on his face. It had finally hit him that he had kissed Crowley, something that would’ve utterly horrified and, let's be honest, killed him if he knew about it in September. He plopped onto his bed, staring at his ceiling, imagining constellations and a certain redhead naming them after describing what they looked like.

But as always, his ingrained shame took the wheels quickly and he was left feeling guilty for something that made him giddy at the thought. It was entirely frustrating and confusing. On the one hand, they finally cleared the heavy air that hung between them, and tightened the string that brought them closer. On the other, Crowley had behaved entirely confusingly. One second he was gripping him like his life depended on it and the other, he ran away like a startled bird. He barely had time to think it through for his eyes started to drop and he descended into sleep where golden eyes looked at him and soft lips kissed him and where everything was alright,

If only that was the case in real life.

It seemed like a moment ago, he had closed his eyes thinking about the way Crowley felt in his arms, when the covers were ripped off of him and his eyes were attacked with the bright light of the sun. Before he could register what was happening, a hand had grabbed him by the throat and pulled him up and his father’s bone chilling voice filled his ears.

“My office. 10 minutes. Do you understand?” A wash of fear drowned him and Aziraphale was no longer half asleep but wide awake and on alert. His eyes widened as his father’s face loomed over him like a lion does his prey. He nodded, struggling to let air into his lungs as his father’s grip tightened the longer he didn’t respond. He grabbed onto the arm around his neck, so different and yet similar to the way another’s had snaked around to hold him in an entirely different context.

“Yes-yes! I understand, sir!” He felt himself fall back onto his bed and his father stalked out his room, shaking it as he slammed the door shut behind him. Aziraphale’s breath was erratic and irregular, and it was still hard to breath. He sat frozen with fear for what felt like an eternity. Why did he want to see him? He was angry, that was clear but, angry enough to wake him up by choking him? His mind was racing with possibilities, from him finding out that he hadn’t been seeing Newt for these past months all the way to him knowing that he and Crowley kissed.

He was physically shaking as he left his room. The house was quiet, eerily quiet. It might be because they all went to bed at an absurd hour and deserved a much needed lie in, but Aziraphale’s hair stood on edge. He passed by the guest rooms which housed his siblings but no sound was heard from inside. The usual walk to his father’s study seemed to take an extra 5 minutes, as Aziraphale had to often grab the nearest stable surface to calm his nerves before continuing his walk despite the fact his knees were about to give up on him at any second.

The door was closed, not locked, but closed but to Aziraphale it seemed like Dante’s Inferno and all his hope was abandoning, making him feel very small indeed. He steeled his breath as he pushed the door open to meet whatever fate waited for him. 

The room was dark, the lamp on his desk was it and replaced the usual soft rays of the sun. Soft reflections from a glass vase bought by Mrs Service as a Christmas present littered the room, almost distracting him from the two figures sitting in the room. His father was half sitting. Half leaning on his desk and talking to someone sat on the chair in front of him. The figure turned around at the sound of the door opening and Aziraphale’s heart dropped.

His brother’s face was a supporting smug and patronising smirk. That smirk which called him ’ little baby Aziraphale not yet growing into his big boy pants ’. He definitely had something to do with this and he was definitely the reason he was called in.

“Close the door and sit down,” He almost didn’t want to, but his father’s words rapt him and he felt himself close the door shut. He sat on the chair, resisting the urge to adjust his position in case his father called him out for acting suspicious. He gave Gabriel a quick look but he gave nothing away, apart from the fact he was in trouble as if they were juvenile children.

“All I wanted was for us to celebrate the new year like we always do. But it gets to midnight, and you are nowhere to be seen. Care to explain yourself?” His father crossed his arms, staring down at him in the chair. Aziraphale’s heart started beating ten times faster, but he kept his face as neutral as possible. He knew that someone would notice his absence. What should he say? His face’s face gave nothing about what he did and did not know, but if how he woke up was anything to go by, he must know something. He made noises come out of his throat and he heard himself answering the question.

“I just got really overwhelmed when you and Mr Crowley started arguing and I needed some air. So I went outside to catch my breath,” Catch my breath by seeing my arch nemesis I shouldn’t even be talking to and apologising to him . His father narrowed his eyes, nodding with his lips pursed to not give away his ace.

“I see! So you went outside for some alone time?” He said, emphasising the word alone and Aziraphale was almost certain he knew. He knew, he knew, he knew. But what could he do? He couldn’t confess to his sins, he was frozen solid where he was and nothing came out. He nodded his head and before he could vocally respond, his father turned his attention to Gabriel.

“Gabriel, did you see Aziraphale during his alone time?” Aziraphale gripped the chair arm with an intensity he didn’t know he could as he flicked his gaze from his brother to his father. Gabriel was lounging perfectly comfortably on the chair as he flicked his eyes to him for a moment before facing back to their father.

“I did, but he certainly wasn’t alone,” He said coolly. Gabriel knew. Shit, shit, shit , Gabriel knew and he was telling his father. Aziraphale shook his head, as if he could stop what was about to happen.

“Really? Who was he with?”

“Gabriel, please-”

“Be quiet!” His father roared, bringing down his arm as he did and Aziraphale felt the sharp sting on his cheek before he processed he was being hit. He yelled in pain, keeping his head down when it was pushed down from the contact. He breathed heavily to regain some composure and his eyes welled with tears from the pain. Gabriel jumped in his seat, a look of fear crossing his face, almost as if he didn’t realise what consequences he would have to endure due to his accusation. “Who did you see him with?”

Aziraphale lifted his head, meeting his concerned eye and hope blossomed softly in his chest. He shook his head as little as possible. Please don’t do this. Don’t tell. Please, God, don’t tell him. He conveyed his pleas silently through his tear stained eyes. There was a moment before Gabriel looked away, where his face contorted in frustration before he looked back at his father,

“He was with Anthony Crowley,” He said, his voice as steady and constant as always. Aziraphale’s mouth dropped open and a silent cry escaped him. There was no running, no exit, he was trapped in a cage with a hungry lion.

“I’ll ask again, shall I? Explain yourself,” He leant in close, snatching his curls to tilt his head back and face him. Aziraphale’s mind thought briefly to last night, when Crowley had cusped his head and was clinging to his hair for dear life. Now, his father was all but tearing chunks out of it.

“I’m sorry-”

“Oh, you’re sorry . I’ll show you how sorry you’ll be,” At this point, his father threw him off the chair and onto the floor. He vaguely heard something crash and he saw briefly it was the new vase that had dropped onto the floor when his father had pushed himself off. A swift kick to the ribs knocked out a gust of air, which left him wheezing and flying straight into the shards of glass, piercing his skin a million little times. He cried as the pain registered in his ribs and forearm where he caught himself. Gabriel stood up, staring down at him with fear and panic in his eyes.

“I should go-”

“No. You need to see that you did the good thing by telling me. He needs to know it’s a good thing it was you who saw them, not,” It didn’t make sense. Both brothers knew that as they held eye contact. He should yell, he should fight, tell them both to leave him alone. It’s what Crowley would’ve done, but a lot worse and with more profanity. But he couldn't. He was so broken in so many different ways, he just tipped his head in shame. Gabriel sat back down.

“Do you know what could’ve happened if someone other than your brother saw you two? You would’ve ruined me!” His father punched his face down as Aziraphale lifted it to look at him speak. Aziraphale clenched his jaw to stop any whines of pain from escaping as to not encourage his father.

“We weren't doing anything,” He groaned and cried and whined, carefully pulling himself away from the glass shards that were stabbing into his skin. His father grabbed him by the hair and threw him against another wall. He felt his bruised side from where the fist kick landed get hit and another shot of pain ran through his body.

“You better not have been doing anything, or you'll be begging at my feet for mercy like the pathetic brat you are,” A low whine escaped his mouth as he shut his eyes in pain. He vaguely heard Gabriel stand up, and started saying something to his father, but the pain was thumping his head in. He violently shook his head.

“It won't happen again. I’m sorry, please I’m sorry,” He covered his head with his arms, anticipating another hit. Instead, his father grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him up and holding him by the throat when his legs started giving out. 

“It sure as hell won’t happen again, Aziraphale, or so help me God, I will throw you out of this house faster than I did your faggot brother. Do you hear me?” The word shook him to his core, and more tears came rushing out. The word felt dirty on him as it embraced him like a parent. He clenched his jaw shut as he nodded.

“Yes, sir,” For a moment, Aziraphale thought his father was never going to unpin him from the wall, but Gabriel had pulled him off, whispering words that were distant for Aziraphale. 

“You're a mess. You can’t be seen like this at church,” Aziraphale heard his father say as he caught his breath from his sore throat.

“What?”

"You can’t come to church like this. Everyone will be asking questions,” His father stepped towards the door, leaving Aziraphlae to stare at the place where his father had stood a second ago.

“I can’t miss church, I’ll-”

“If I say you’re not going to church, you don’t go. You need to learn your actions have consequences,” He didn’t stop to listen to either of his sons, as he shut the door behind him and left. Aziraphale’s knees buckled under him, which brought him tumbling down to the ground. Thankfully, Gabriel caught him in time, but his bruises that were starting to form didn’t appreciate the contact.

“Shit, Aziraphale. C’mon, let’s get out of here,” Aziraphale vaguely felt himself being brought somewhere with a soft bed, and he wasn’t sure if it was his room or Gabriel’s. Either way, his eyes were starting to droop and he felt vaguely sorry for whoever’s bed this was because he became conscious of the bloods streaming out of his arm from where the broken vase had stabbed him. Silently, Gabriel grabbed a small used first aid kit from somewhere and began to carefully pluck out the small pieces of glass still stuck in his skin.

“Stay still,” He ordered when Aziraphale began to squirm with discomfort. He tried to bite down the small yelps of pain, especially when he began to clean the wounds with disinfectant that burnt him. “What else hurts?”

“My side. I don’t think my ribs are broken, just bruised,” Gabriel nodded, placing an ice-pack on his cheek as Aziraphale spoke.

“I didn’t- I didn’t think he’d go this far,” He whispered quietly as he started wrapping his arm with some bandages.

“Of course not,” Aziraphale scoffed, causing Gabriel to look up at him with his eyebrows furrowed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked. Normally, Aziraphale would back down. He’d offer a million apologies to avoid this confrontation that had been building for years. But he was so very tired. He had been tired for so long and all he wanted was peace.

“It means that father would burn the world down before laying a hand on you,” He watched Gabriel’s face contort in frustration. He turned his gaze down to continue wrapping, but murmured something Aziraphale could barely hear.

“That’s not fair,” He felt his father’s anger grow in him, and he had to restrain himself from shouting and crying.

“Not fair? We’re the one having to deal with his anger because we're weaker than him. You’re lucky that he sees himself in you. He wouldn’t do anything to harm himself,” Gabriel’s grip on his arm started to tighten, but he wouldn't let his words stop from flowing. It needed to be said, he needed to say it.

“I should just be thankful, then? He puts the fear of God into all of us. Don’t think you're so special, because I’m not here anymore. Just because I deal with the pressure better than you do, doesn't mean that I’m not affected by it. I think you forget that I grew up in this house as well,” He finished wrapping up his arm, and started packing the kit away. Aziraphale huffed out a breath of anger

“But you’re free! You're free and you can run whenever you want, Gabriel,” Gabriel paused for a moment, and Aziraphale despised the tears that were coming back. His throat closed up but pushed through this emotional wall he had placed around him. 

“I am stuck here , because as the youngest, he has that power over me. While you can go off and make him proud elsewhere, don't assume I can do the same. I am stuck here as his prize-winning cattle that he can show off whenever he wants until he tires of me too,” Gabriel stood up, placing the kit from where it was. He was silent before he turned around and leant on the desk behind him. Aziraphale shuddered at the similarities between him and his father. They really were each other’s spitting image.

“Do you think I enjoy watching my siblings suffer? Is that your view of me?” Aziraphale crossed his arms in front of him at Gabriel’s accusation.

“It sure does seem like it, or else why would you tell him about what you saw?” Gabriel rolled his eyes, running his hands through his perfectly shaped hair, causing this image he had of his older brother crack.

“I was trying to protect you!” He shouted. Aziraphale stood up, stepping up to stand right in front of him.

“You putting me in the firing line!” He shouted back.

“You don't understand! Crowleys are dangerous. They’re- they’re unpredictable and chaotic and don't deserve our sympathy,” It was Aziraphale’s turn to roll his eyes. Yes, Crowley was by far the farthest thing from predictable, but that wasn’t a reason to hate him, it was a reason to love him. It’s what made him so attractive, so him. It was the breath of fresh air that made Aziraphale realise he had been choking on smoke.

“How do you know? Have you ever done anything that father didn't approve of?”

“Of course I did Aziraphale. I’m human, not the archangel fucking Gabriel, he named me after!” A beat passed over them. Aziraphale was staring at his brother in disbelief. Gabriel looked apprehensive, and couldn’t meet his eyes anymore. He dragged a hand across his face, a heavy sigh passed his lips as his eye glazed over with a painful but unknown memory. “Believe me. No good can come out of a relationship between a Prince and a Crowley,” Aziraphale was sure he wasn’t sharing something. He could see it in the way he protected himself, and his confidence was no longer seen anywhere. His brother was breaking in front of him and he didn’t really know what to do.

He gulped. “What did you see? That night,” Gabriel lifted his head to look him in the eye. Azirphale forced no emotions to shine on his face, lest he give anything about their not-so-platonic-but-somehow-platonic relationship away. He shrugged absentmindedly.

“You. And him talking about you and Maggie and how father didn’t want you to do the announcement anymore. He left suddenly and I got bored of waiting for him to come back so I left,” Despite his anger, relief spread across his body. He didn’t see them kissing. He didn’t know. Still, he remained passive despite the fact he could practically jump for joy at the fact that no one had seen them kissing.

“You saw we were doing nothing and you still told him,” He crossed his arms again, stepping back to sit on (his) bed.

“Better rip the weed by the roots than wait for it to grow across the garden. No matter what you think of him or me, we are your family, and everything we do is to protect you,” He refused to meet his eye again. He had been told that simple phrase by everyone. By his mother, when she failed to take his place. By his sisters and brother’s, who he cried and complained to.

Over time, he supposed he just accepted this part of his life. They he could never truly feel safe or at peace. He always had to be on guard, no matter where he was. It was until Crowley, and seeing the pictures of them smiling, and it not being forced or fake, that he had started to doubt whether his family was normal. He had started to doubt a lot of things since he met Crowley. Gabriel sat beside him on the bed, pulling Aziraphale’s head on his shoulder. Aziraphale shut his eyes at the contact and warmth and pretended for a moment that the only reason Gabriel would be comforting him is because he loves him, and not the image that their father had meticulously protected for decades.

“He doesn't mean to hurt you, he just doesn’t… know anything else. Do you understand?” A moment passed, and Aziraphale want to push him out of his room and be alone. But he didn’t. Instead, he started to nod.

“I do,” He whispered in his shoulder.

“Do you forgive him? Me?” Another pause.

“Of course I do,”

Chapter Text

Crowley was at a fork in the road. Not literally, obviously, he was lying in bed staring up at his poster-covered ceiling, thinking back to New Years when he and Aziraphale had kissed. He suddenly had an interest in religion because there was no way God didn't exist when Aziraphale kissing him existed. God, he was perfect, he fitted underneath his hand so perfectly and he was sure that that one singular memory would cause him to wank himself raw for the next several weeks. And as much as he wanted to do something stupid like kiss him again, or God forbid, go even further, he couldn't. He'd rather cut his hand off before touching Aziraphale again.

His body craved him like it does water, but Hastur's scratchy voice replayed in his head. He turned over the memory of making this goddamned bet that was simultaneously the best and the worst thing to happen to him. With it, he got to know Aziraphale. He got to know what made him wiggle in delight and make a smile crease his face. On the other hand, with it he could never get to know him more. He could never kiss him or touch him or whisper soft words without him feeling like the biggest piece of shit in the world. 

There were many times where he had wished he never made the bet. He woke up hungover the next day and loathed his massive ego trying to establish itself. He hated how, at the time, he thought it was a way that Hastur made an easy 100 quid, ‘cus there was no way he could shag Aziraphale within the space of a year.

He turned the ring on his finger over, still in disbelief that Aziraphale had given him a literal ring as a gift. And Jesus Christ, those eyes. Those wide blue eyes that stared into his soul just before they would kiss. He had been wonderfully receptive under his hands, he wondered just how receptive he’d be with him under-

For fucks sake, NO! He turned onto his front, spotting the time to be in the early morning. Fuck this, he couldn’t sleep, and he certainly doesn’t want to close his eyes in case his mind gives him some unhelpful images of Aziraphale. He sat up, running a hand through his hair, and as the ring got stuck in a knot, he knew he couldn’t live like this until he next saw him.

Crowley stalked out of his room until he reached a door at the opposite end of the house. He pushed the door wide open, startling the figure in the bed to shoot upwards.

“What the in the actual fuck are you doing?” He heard his sister complain, rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

“I need your help,” He sat down next to them, turning on their bedside lamp, causing them to hiss in discomfort.

“You actual prick. What did you do that for?” Their short hair was stood up on all ends and they had that fraternal look of homicidal rage in their eyes.

“I’ve fucked up. Massively,”

“When have you ever not? Can't it wait ‘til morning?”

“No, it can't,”

“Trust me, whatever it is, it is not worth waking me up for-”

“I kissed Aziraphale Prince,” His sister stopped dead in their tracks, and the sleep was gone from their eyes. Their mouth gently dropped open as the words entered their mind. An exasperated laugh made its way out and Crowley's frustration grew.

“Fuck me, I’m awake now,” They sat up in their bed, leaning back against the headboard. Crowley sighed whilst rolling his eyes.

“It’s not funny!” He said, crossing his arms in front of him

“Not funny? You’ve just told me that you kissed Aziraphale Prince. Like, THE Aziraphale Prince!"

“Yeah, and I need your help on what I’m gonna do about it,” His sister shook their head.

“I think we're missing the most vital bit of information: why the hell did you kiss Aziraphale Prince in the first place?” They asked incredulously. Crowley fell back onto the bed behind him, and a pathetic whine came out of his mouth.

“ ‘Cus I really like him,” He grabbed one of the pillows nearby, covering his face with it to smother some of the embarrassment he was getting from himself. Bee ripped the pillow off, returning it behind their head.

“Unless I've woken up in an alternate dimension where that sentiment makes perfect sense, I feel like there's some crucial context you are withholding from me,” Crowley sat up and began to tell the tale of 4 months.

He told them how because he was a stupid twat, he was failing all his subjects and the school assigned him to Aziraphale. He told them about the tutoring session and how it went less from being a chore to something he actively looked forward to. He told them about London and the park and field and the party. He told them everything up until him running away on New Years. Beelzebub massaged their head as they processed the information of 4 months that was received in 5 minutes.

“Okay, so you and Aziraphale are forced to spend hours together every day. But you find out you actually get on really well with each other and you’ve both been having some underlying sexual tension for the past 4 months that just got resolved on new years. But you still managed to fuck it up?”

“Yes,” He groaned, throwing himself back onto the bed to stare at the ceiling.

“Did he not like it?” They asked with trepidation. He smirk as he turned his head in their direction

“Oh he liked it a lot,” He gave them a wink, which made Bee scrunch their face in disgust.

“Ew gross! Don’t need to know anything more than that. So what's wrong?” His smirk fell slowly as he gently toyed with his new ring. He understood why Aziraphale found it so comforting

“Well…” He trailed off as the words died in his throat.

“Oh god, what did you do,” Normally, a statement like that would have resulted in a face of outright disbelief and some over dramatic cries. But this time, he only managed to give his sister one quick look before taking a deep breath.

“It may be that the only reason I started talking to him, properly I mean, is because Hastur bet me 100 quid that I couldn’t shag him by the end of the year,” 

Bee blinked slowly.

“What,”

“And if I do, I can video it and release it so that dad can win the election this year,” There was an absolutely mortifyingly slow second before Bee grabbed the pillow they had snatched off his face earlier and started beating him senseless with it.

“You. Absolute. Fucking. Twat!” They got up, towering over him as he tried to put his hands up in vain to protect himself. He tried to roll away, but got stuck between the bed sheets and covers that he was at their mercy until they decided to let up.

“Ow! Why the fuck are you hitting me for?” He asked, his voice and embarrassingly high pitch.

“You are such a cunt!” He managed to snatch the pillow back as he sat back up and used it as some sort of shield between his sister in case they tried something else.

“What? Why?” He asked and it might as well have been as if he asked why things fell to the ground, because the look Bee gave him made him feel very stupid.

“How about you use your brain for more than half a second and think about your actions before doing it?” They jabbed his head, almost knocking him back but managed to push them away with the pillow in his hands.

“It’s not my fault, I was high out of my fucking mind!” Beelzebub looked like they were about to say something else but took a deep breath in. They clapped their hands together, placing them under their chin in a way that reminded him oddly of BBC Sherlock.

“You do realise what would happen if you had won this bet? Ant, you would’ve been outing him , putting him in danger. And for what? Because you were high?” 

Crowley looked down in shame as his sister's words rang in his head. He knew the bet was stupid. Hell, it was the whole reason he ran away in the first place, but he never thought about it like that. If he released the video, he’d be putting not only himself but Aziraphale in danger. He didn’t quite know what happened in his house, but he had seen the way he flinched whenever he raised his voice, or the way he crumpled under the pressure and fear of upsetting his father. What would’ve happened if the homophobic, probably abusive nutcase that was his father found out that Aziraphale was gay? He’d be in so much danger and Crowley was expected to just walk off whilst lighting another blunt.

“I… I guess I didn't really think about that,” He whispered quietly, taking the ring off his finger to just hold it in the palm of his hand. He didn’t deserve this, he was a shitty person who didn’t deserve anything. It’s what the whole town thought of him anyway.

“Yeah, that's evident,” Eventually, they leaned back against the headboard, crossing their arms as they did as they looked on passively.

“Well, what should I do?”

“Simple: don't talk to him, lose the 100 quid and move on,” Crowley threw the pillow to the side, letting his head fall into his hands in front of him.

“But I don't wanna lose him!” He groaned. Bee pulled him upright to look him in the eye.

“You have to. It's the only way to keep you both safe,” He rolled his eyes, pushing their hand off of him and heading to the door.

“I don't know why I bothered. I knew you wouldn’t understand,” He mumbled angrily under his breath. They chuckled sourly from behind him, stopping him from taking another step.

“I know a lot more than you think, Ant,” He turned back to face them and they sighed with the weight of an unknown secret. “Take it from me, you guys are doomed. Like, Romeo and Juliet typed doomed,” He rolled his eyes for what felt the hundredth of time as his anger engulfed him like flames

“I DON’T CARE! Jesus Bee, he’s like if heaven itself came down to earth. He-he is the light at the end of a very scary and horrible tunnel. Fucking hell, he’s the reason I’m not gonna end up in some type of juvie cell! And I know , I know I fucked up and I know I absolutely don’t deserve him but I would fight God in order to not lose him,”

He felt exhausted with no way out and he was tired of pretending Aziraphale Prince didn’t mean anything to him. He would shout it from the rooftops how Aziraphale deserves the world and he’d be the first to admit they absolutely didn’t work. They didn’t work in the slightest but that is what made them perfect. Bee chewed their lips, letting his rant hang awkwardly between them. They looked up at him through their eyelashes, a mix of unidentifiable emotions on their face

“You love him, don't you?” It wasn’t a question anymore, but he was thankfully they phrased it like one.

“I dunno. Maybe,” He scratched the back of his neck, unsure what to say.

“In any case, you really like him?”

“Yes,” He replied almost instantly. Bee nodded, looking him up and down before replying themselves.

“Then tell him,” Crowley cocked his head, scrunching his eyebrows in confusion.

“What?”

“Tell him everything you’ve just told me. Albeit, maybe at a better hour than this. And tell him everything . About the bet and how you're no longer that same manky kid who got high and made a juvenile bet with a bunch of bellends,” He walked to sit next to them, leaning his head on their shoulder, unable to look at them full on in case they recognised the signs of his confidence and stature falling.

“What if he gets angry at me?” Bee placed an arm around his shoulders, squeezing him tight.

“Not if, when. This is gonna be hard to hear, but Ant, in his mind, you have been playing him since day one, no matter when your heart discovered morality and realise playing with someone's emotions is shitty. He's gonna be angry, he's not gonna want to talk to you and you have to accept it,”

“What if he never wants to talk to me again?” They pulled him off their shoulder, grabbing him by both his shoulders to face him head on.

“Is he that type of person? To hold grudges until the end of time,” He thought for half a second before shaking his head. “Then you wait it out. Like a really bad hangover. ‘Kay?”

“Okay,” He nodded lamely

“Okay. Can I go back to sleep now?” They questioned. He gave them a small laugh before nodding again whilst pushing their hands off of him.

“Yes,”

“Glad I could help,” He stood up from their bed. He knew it was going to be a tough conversation. It was going to suck but then everything was going to be okay. It’s just like ripping off a plaster, he’s just gotta do it quick and fas-

“Oh, Anthony?” He turned to look at them

“Yes?”

“Wake me up again, and I'll tear out your throat with a stapler,”

Chapter Text

Tap.

Aziraphale was sitting on his bed, heavily engrossed in his book, enjoying the abnormal peace he never experienced on a Sunday. The rest of his family went to church earlier today. He tried to talk to his father about going, having not missed church since he was very small and he felt the inner turmoil within him at the prospect of him missing church. But whatever argument he came up with, his father silently pointed out his black eye he got when he walked into an opening door. He was left alone, and he watched mutely as the cars sped off, leaving him behind and alone.

Tap.

At first, he tried not to think about it. He tried to act like it was a normal day, but his inner Christian was withering with every second he wasn't in Mass. He didn't even know why it was so upset, if he stopped lying to himself, he felt less connected to faith and God everyday that passed by. And he felt that no matter how he looked at it, he was betraying a part of himself. If he denied God, he'd be betraying his family, his childhood and community that have seen and supported him at every stage. If he kept hold onto religion like a small child, he’d be trading a future where he was free to make his own choices and form his own opinions that didn’t come from what others have told him to believe.

Tap .

He looked up from his book for what felt like a millionth time in the last 10 minutes to find nothing. He half wanted to stand up from his bed and see what it was, but he figured it wasn’t important enough to move him away from Dorian’s story. He let his fingers caress the indented pages where Crowley had scribbled his thoughts and feelings. He normally wasn’t too keen on annotating a personal book, but Crowley had that tendency to make him do things he never would’ve thought of and make it special. 

Tap.

That’s it, he’s had enough. What was making that noise? As he stood up, he heard the faint buzzing from his phone in his drawer. At first he was confused as to who it could be, but he made the quick realisation that only one person had his contact info and he all but lunged at his drawer to fish his phone out. He quickly readjusted it the right way and before he could collect himself pressed the ‘pick up’ button and pressed it against his ear,

“Crowley?”

“Yep-uh hi. Quick question: Are you at home?” He looked around his room to confirm he was, his confusion growing by the second. Why was he calling him? It was unusual to talk so quickly after an awkward encounter, and they usually spent a week avoiding each other. It wasn’t like him to call him up only days since New Years.

“I-I yes? What is this-” He tried to question him, but he was cut off by Crowley shouts.

“I knew it! Haven't you heard all the bloody rocks I've been throwing at your window? Or, I hope it is your window, or else I’m really dumb,” He was about to reply but his words hit him like a bat. He shook as head, because, there was no way -

“Wai-wait wait. My window? Crowley, are you outside?” That’s when he recognised that behind his voice was the distinct sound of wind. Crowley didn’t respond as quickly and Aziraphale waited anxiously for his answer, not sure if he preferred a no or a yes.

“Uhhhh, yes?” Aziraphale stood frozen in the middle of his room, his mouth hanging slightly open in disbelief. There is no way-

He quickly unlocked his window, pulling it up to let his upper half hang outside and that’s when he saw him. There, in his garden, with an absurdly tall mountain of pebbles next to him, was Anthony Crowley, his phone pressed against his head and a stone ready in his other hand. He dropped it the second he saw Aziraphale outside his window to wave energetically “Hi!”

“Crowley, what the hell are you doing in my garden?” He grabbed the phone from where it was squished between his shoulder and ear.

“We need to talk!” Crowley shouted, then realised they were still on call and repeated it more quietly into the microphone. “We need to talk,”

“And you thought breaking and entering into my garden, without knowing if I was home alone, putting you at risk of being seen and our relationship in danger of exposure, was the best idea?” He asked in one breath, his emotions taking the better of him as he questioned Crowley’s actions

“Noooo!” He gave him a big enough pause to picture raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “I was gonna come to church and briefly kidnap you but when I saw everyone in your family ‘cept you, I figured you were alone and we could talk more peacefully,” Again, he was left shaking his head at him as he just registered the fact that Crowley went to the church to look for him .

“Wait, you went to church in search of me?” He asked. Crowley spluttered into the phone.

“Just-just-just are you gonna let me in? This isn't a big deal, angel!” He failed to acknowledge the way his heart stuttered at the pet name, not used to hearing it despite what he did less than a week ago.

“If you knew I was alone, why didn’t you ring the doorbell?” He could almost see how Crowley was all but stomping his feet in the ground like a tantruming child.

“Becaaause, I wanted to like those quirky teens in those rom-com films you despise,” He whined into phone. He huffed, looking up at him and he could hear the smirk in his next sentence. “I want to climb through your window like a bad boy ,” Aziraphale gulped as he felt his lungs shut down. Why did he go and have to say it like that? With the promise of what they did on New Years? He almost stuttered through his reply, but he composed himself to not give away the effect he had on him.

“You regularly engage in underage drinking, smoking, break the speed limit like the law is a suggestion and swear like a sailor. But… sneaking in through a window determines whether you're a bad boy or not?”

“Yes. Now is there a way to get up there?” He should put a stop to this. He should tell him he’s being silly and to just come through the front door like a normal good boy.

But the prospect of a bad boy made his Christian heart sinfully pound in his chest with excitement.

“There’s a trellis on the side of the house. You can walk on the roof and you can come through my window,” The moment he uttered the words, encouraging Crowley to be bad, he felt his lips quirk up, despite trying to keep himself calm. He was sure Crowley heard, because he heard a deep chuckle on the other side of the phone that made it harder to not squeal like a little kid

“Great. See you in a mo’!” He saw Crowley sprint off to the side and that’s when the realisation came crawling into his mind.

Anthony Crowley was about to be in his bedroom.

His smile fell as he quickly tidied up whatever mess was in his room. He was hastily throwing the covers over to ‘make his bed’, when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, or more noticeably, his injuries.

“Shit,” He grabbed a zip up jumper and all but threw it on himself to cover up the bandage on his arm but he had no way of hiding his face unless this bruise disappears in the next 5 seconds. And from the way God hasn’t been responding to any of his prayers, he doubts he’s worth a miracle of this size. He had no more time to think because he heard a thud from behind him and Crowley was on the floor of his bedroom, having just fallen through the window.

“Holy shit, they make that look a hell of a lot easier in the movies!” He groaned under his breath as he pushed himself until he was kneeling in front of him. As he took his glasses off and into a pocket, his mouth automatically opened to make an embarrassing comment on his hideous wallpaper (It was baby blue with little angels on it (Even he could admit it was horrendous at a young age when it was only live laugh God)) but his face dropped when he caught sight of the bruise on his face.

“What the hell happened to you?” He growled and Aziraphale knew that he wasn’t angry at him, but his heart started to pick up anyway.

“I-I- this was an accident. Silly really I walked into a door as someone was opening it. Just an accident, that’s all,” He chuckled nervously, and Crowley eyed him with concern. He shifted under his scrutiny and he wished he could hide somewhere.

“Are you sure?” He asked one more time. Aziraphale held his eye, before nodding.

“Alright, if that's what you say,” Aziraphale adjusted the reading glasses he had on his face - he didn’t really need them, he just thinks they make him look distinguished - before realising Crowley was still on the floor.

“Let me help you off the floor, dear,” He grabbed Crowley’s hand, letting the blush on his cheeks grow from the contact. Just a few days before, those same hands were running through his hair and clutching onto him with the promise of more. He miscalculated how close they were, however, because when Crowley was finally standing, he was pressed chest to chest with him and Aziraphale had to crane his neck to look up at him. He felt Crowley’s quickened breath on his face, before a mischievous grin spread on his face

“Hi angel,” He whispered and Aziraphale licked his smiling lips back.

“Hi,” It seemed like they stared at each other for an eternity, before Crowley was stepping back to walk around his room, surveying and inspecting like a detective

“So, this is your room,” He placed his arms behind his back as he walked, and Aziraphale felt his mortification growing by every second that Crowley was walking around his room. It felt scandalous, and blasphemous, to have a Crowley in the heart of the Prince household, but some sadistic part of him loved it and craved it.

“Please don't comment on anything,” He crossed his arms, trying not to wince as he accidently pressed down on his injured arm. It was still tender and sore, even with the bandages on and an extra layer of insulation.

“What is there to comment on?” Crowley shrugged innocently, but the sarcastic tone and smile as well as his eyes flicking to the countless angels made it clear that he had… opinions on the decor of his room

“The horrifying angels staring into your soul,” He raised an eyebrow in question and Crowley put his hands up in defence.

“Hey, you're the one that brought it up,” He walked back to him so they were standing closer. Not as close as they were a moment ago, but close enough that Aziraphale’s heart started beating fast for an entirely different reason and the smile was wiped of his face “I think you might be my favourite angel out of all of them,”

OH -kay.

Aziraphale coughed into his hand, stepping round him so he could sit at the end of his bed and get some distance between them. “Why are you here?” He asked. Crowley’s flirtatious - was he flirting with him? - smile slowly came off his face and he sat down next to him with a heavy sigh.

“Like I said. We need to talk,”  Aziraphale patted his legs, smoothing his trousers as he squirmed uncomfortably.

“Yes. Yes I suppose we do,” There was an awkward moment where they just sat staring out in front of them and not saying a word to each other. That was until Crowley sighed and slapped his hands on his legs, making them both jump awake.

“Look, the way I see it, we have 2 different options. On one hand, we could just pretend that what happened at New Years was a mistake. We’ll say that we were both pissed out of our minds and we can carry on as if it never happened,” Crowley turned to look at him, his face unreadable apart from his eyes. His eyes told Aziraphale of his yearning, of his desperation that they wouldn’t try and sweep it under the rug. Because it meant as much to Crowley as it did Aziraphale. Aziraphale shook his head.

“But we weren't drunk. And it did happen,” Crowley pulled his legs up, so he was now sitting cross-legged on Aziraphale’s bed.

“So I guess we need to talk about what that means for us then,” He said, sighing. Aziraphale nodded and he stood up, facing the window as he couldn’t bear looking at Crowley as he said this.

“I guess I should start with my apology,” He glanced down at his hands as he fiddled with his ring. After a brief pause, Crowley’s response was stuttered out.

“Your what now?”

“My apology. For using you to figure me out. You're not an experiment and I toyed with your feelings because you were the only one to show me this… kindness. But it's clear you didn’t like that so I apologise,” He looked out the window, finding the grey English countryside that he’s grown up in. It was peaceful. Tranquillity in its best state and it was something Aziraphale craved. Some peace and quiet, where his mind wasn’t at war with his heart. He was so caught up in himself, he didn’t hear the way Crowley left the bed and stood directly behind him

“You think I ran away because I didn't like it ?” Aziraphale swirled around at the sound of his voice, which was a lot closer to his ear than he suspected. Crowley was close to him again, and he could easily pin him to the wall to look at him and he would be completely helpless under him. But Crowley didn’t, he just raised an eyebrow as he waited for Aziraphale to compose himself.

“Yes,” He breathed out, looking down at their feet. Or at least, he tried because the second Aziraphale broke eye contact, Crowley’s fingers had taken hold of his chin and pushed up and into him. He let out a small, almost inaudible gasp, but there was no way Crowley didn’t hear it.

“Oh angel, I’d let you ruin me and all you’d have to do is ask,” Crowley’s voice dropped again, this time the promise of what something more was was made evident from the breath he felt on his face. Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he couldn’t stop his gaze from falling to his lips. He wondered what it would feel like to have those lips on him. To have a chance to let go and let Crowley take the lead. He was so close, all he had to do was lean in. He repressed the small noise that was on the back of his throat, he didn’t want to be seen as too weak in the knees 

“W-why did you r-run then?” He tightened his jaw as a flush of embarrassment took over his face. He couldn’t help stuttering, who could, but he didn’t feel any less mortified. Crowley took pity on him, thank God, because he pushed himself away from him and Aziraphale could breathe again.

“Because I pushed myself onto you. Like I had done a million times before at Nina's cafe, on the London Eye, during the tutoring sessions,”

“You must have had your reasons,”

“I think we both know what those reasons are, angel” He looked at Crowley, as he subconsciously licked his lips again. He watched as Crowley looked at his tongue and lips the same way he’d look at a particularly enticing piece of cake. Oh Lord, save me.

“So what happens now?” He clasped his hands in front of him, and a weight pressed on Crowley’s shoulders. This, whatever this is or could be, couldn’t happen if Aziraphale didn’t know the truth.

“What happens now is that I tell you something you’re not gonna want to hear,” Aziraphale’s eyes widened as he suddenly tensed up, probably noticing the way Crowley was fidgeting as he tried to calm himself. 

“Oh?”

“You- you might wanna sit down,” Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he guided himself to the foot of the bed again and sat down. Crowley started pacing in front of him, trying to psych himself up to do this. His heart was pounding and he was so close to having Aziraphale, but until he was aware of this whole bet thing, he wouldn’t so much as look at him.

“What is it?” He asked. He cocked his head to the side, his eyes filled with innocence Crowley was going to taint. A shaky breath left his mouth and he chuckled sourly.

“I don't want you to be angry,”

“I won't be,” Guilt was eating him from the inside, and it wasn’t stopping anytime soon. Aziraphale should be angry, he will be angry and Crowley had just got to deal with it. He deserves Aziraphale’s hatred when the truth comes out

“I made an awful mistake,” He gave him a side-long glance, and Aziraphale’s features softened.

“Do you really think I’m the type of person to hold someone's mistakes over their heads?” Crowley casted his eyes down, letting the shame wash over him. He couldn’t breath, let alone speak and here was Aziraphale looking at him like he could do no wrong. Why couldn’t he see that Crowley was wrong for him? Why did he have to look at him like that, the way no one has ever done before?

“No,” He finally responded. Aziraphale grabbed a hand, bringing it close to his chest so Crowley had nowhere to look but in his eyes.

“Then tell me, dear. Whatever it is that's bothering you,” Aziraphale gave him a reassuring smile, and Crowley longed for his sunglasses. He needed something to protect him, and he'd get off track if Aziraphale kept looking up at him like that. He took one last deep breath before starting to explain.

“At the beginning of this year. This school year, I mean, I made a mistake. A horrible, stupid mistake that would compromise anything we have,” Aziraphale didn’t make any move to interrupt him. He just nodded his head encouragingly.

“What is it?”

“I…” Aziraphale raised both his eyebrows in anticipation. Crowley trailed off as he got lost in Aziraphale. He couldn't do this. He couldn’t hurt Aziraphale, not after everything he’s been through. “...hooked up with Shax,” The words had left his mouth before he realised he was lying.

“What?!” Aziraphale’s face contorted into a mix between shock and disgust. He dropped his hand as his jaw opened. He hadn’t meant to lie, truly. He had a hundred percent decided to tell him everything, but the lie came out smoother than intended. And he couldn’t back up now and say it was a lie.

So Crowley did what he did best.

He lied.

“Yep. I really just… y’know. Shagged her senseless,” He smacked his lips, making a wet sound that echoed in the otherwise empty room. Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably where he sat, looking at the ground instead of him.

“Oh, um. Okay,” He stuttered out. Crowley started to pace in front of him again. He had to say something, something to save this plane that was going down in a ball of fire.

“And the reason that would harm us, if there even is an us, is because she's jealous of you, or us I guess, and has been trying to get me to hook up with her again. And it kind of worked, because when we weren’t talking, after that day in the park, I was vulnerable and she knew that and she was… a good distraction,” He sighed out. It wasn’t that he was completely lying his ass off. When they did stop talking during the month of December, he’d gone back to his old ways of smoking and drinking and skipping class. And like always, Shax was throwing herself onto him, despite the multiple times that he mentioned he swung for the other team and the other team only.

Except.

Except this time, he didn’t put a stop to it so quickly. Instead, he just left to yap about whatever it was she was fixated on: his hair, his arms, his lips. And it felt nice. It felt nice to be seen and wanted. 

So he went to her house one night.

It was cold and he was high and he had been crying. But he had reached her door before he had time to think about what the hell it was that he was doing. When she opened the door, she looked… nice. Less done up than usual, considering she hadn’t expected him to show up at her door in the middle of the night. She said something about excusing the way she was dressed and why he was at her door smelling like a pub, but he didn’t let her finish before he kissed her.

She was fine, a bit different than kissing a lad, considering she had bits where there usually weren’t and no bits where there usually were, but she had welcomed him with open arms. And he tried, god damn it he really did try to close his eyes, think about someone else and let out some frustration, but Crowley’s mind betrayed him every time she moved them forward. He thought that if he closed his eyes hard enough he could almost imagine someone else’s manicured hand grabbing his crotch. He thought he could pretend for a moment that everything was fine and he was fine and she was fine and the world was fine-

But he couldn’t and left her before any article of clothing had touched the floor.

“A distraction?” Aziraphale asked, looking back at him with the innocence of a child. She had nothing on him. Fuck if she was stunning, he was fucking ethereal and no words in the human language could possibly articulate how much Aziraphale looked beautiful in Crowley’s eyes.

“Yes. Yes because she is nothing compared to you,” Aziraphale left his comment hanging in the air. He could see he was torn, an inner silent conflict that only Aziraphale was privy to. He stared at the bruise on his eye, making him seem more helpless than ever. There wasn’t a bone in his body that believed his story, but what proof did he have? If he started accusing Tadfield’s perfect politician of being an abuser, he’d be chased out of town before the words had left his mouth. He had this urge to protect Aziraphale, all he needed to do was let him in.

“Are you saying that… if I was an option you’d… shag me senseless?” Crowley’s heart stopped for a good 5 seconds at his words. He felt all the blood go straight down to his nether regions and he choked on his spit as he tried to shift in his - extremely fucking tight -  trousers.

“Fucking hell. You can’t just say things like that!” He laughed out, dragging a hand down his face. Aziraphale looked confused and slightly embarrassed, shuffling again in his seat.

“Why not?”

“Because it makes you ten times hotter than you are and my resolve of not pouncing on you and kissing you until you forget your name is diminishing by the second,” Crowley was tired of not admitting everything to Aziraphale. He revelled in the way his face shot up and his eyebrows raised in shock. He opened and closed his mouth and no noise came out. He revelled in the red that was slowly spreading across his cheek. Aziraphale stood up, with a confidence that came from nowhere, and stepped up to him

“Then why aren’t you?” 

Crowley didn’t wait for Aziraphale to explain what that meant. What that meant was that he could kiss Aziraphale Prince and he was not missing this opportunity, even if the world was ending. He snaked an arm around his waist and the other went straight to his hair. He connected their lips with a ferocity he only had for Aziraphale. Aziraphale’s hands were grabbing onto the lapels of his jacket and everything was perfect. The slight noise of pleasure he made in his mouth, the way their lips fit together perfectly and he wanted more.

He used his tongue to lick Aziraphale’s lips and he took advantage of the gasp he made to slither his tongue in. He wanted to taste all of him. It was wet and frenzied and Aziraphale held onto him with an iron-tight grip. He drank Aziraphale in, this was better than any drug he had tasted and so much better than the one on New Years

Aziraphale wasn’t worried about God or his family or himself, he was completely bending to his will and Crowley loved it. Crowley allowed himself to roam Aziraphale’s body in worship. 

Fuck, he was so perfect, so lovely and it was all for him to enjoy. Almost instinctively, he slotted a leg between Aziraphale’s thighs, making Aziraphale gasp at the friction and kissed him hard enough to bruise his lips for the next week.

Oh fuck, the image of Aziraphale covered in his kisses, walking around with his head held high and everyone would know he was his, and his alone. He shuddered at the image, pressing their hips together, which knocked them slightly off balance.

They crashed onto the bed with a groan and pulled apart at the impact. Aziraphale was panting beneath him, his clothes and hair messed up and crinkled from where Crowley’s hands had roamed. He looked like the definition of lust, here pinned beneath him, catching his breath and Crowley was reminded this was because of him. His eyes were wide with panic at their position and knew that he could ruin Aziraphale at some other time, because this wasn’t it.

“Maybe- maybe we should stop,” Crowley said, panting. Aziraphale quickly nodded his head, gulping to wet his dry mouth before he spoke.

“Yeah, that's a good idea,” Crowley only then realised he was straddling Aziraphale, and he awkwardly got off him to allow the other to sit up next to him.

“Sorry, I think I got carried away,” He mumbled. Aziraphale chuckled nervously as he scratched the back of his neck.

“No no, it's fine,” They smiled at each other like a couple of love-sick fools, and for once, neither cared if the other caught them staring. Crowley ran a hand through his own, smacking his lips together as he spoke.

“So can I take it that you wanna do this more in the future?” He asked almost nervously. He could’ve scared him off, especially considering that the second ever kiss they shared ended up with them horizontal on a bed. Aziraphale didn’t shake his head though, he just looked at him with that same expression he always did, and it was only now that Crowley realised the emotions in his eyes were affection and fondness.

“What do you think, dearest?” Fuck, he was actually evil. Not dear, dearest. Dearest, dearest, dearest. Crowley replayed the pet name over and over in his head until he memorised the way Aziraphale said it. He thought his smile couldn’t grow any more, but it did and it was starting to hurt his cheeks. He couldn’t remember the last time someone who wasn’t Aziraphale made him smile like that.

“I think I really wanna kiss you again,” Aziraphale didn’t waste any time as he leant over again and grabbed his face to pull him closer. This one was calmer, quieter. The low fire in the pit of his stomach, which had started to subside, was doused with gasoline the second Aziraphale touched him. He restrained himself. He doesn’t want to fuck this up because his horny teenage hormones got the best of him. He pulled away softly and they remained close. “I’m guessing this means that you've figured out you like men?” He asked.

There was some apprehension in Aziraphale’s eyes but he put on his best smile and nodded. “Definitely,”

“Well, I'm glad I could be of help,” And Aziraphale kept looking at him like that, like he was the only boy in the world and he couldn’t help but to lean in for one more kiss. 

Oh, he could get used to this. Kissing Aziraphale was far more addicting than any cigarette he had smoked. Aziraphale was smiling against his lips and he sighed as he let his fingers run through Crowley’s hair.

Crowley pulled away again, a similar dopey smile on his lips. “I should- I should start heading home,” He got up from the bed and was making his way to the window when Aziraphale’s voice stopped him.

“You- are you not going to film this?” Crowley’s eyes widened.

“What?” He turned back around to face him

“You know us. You've been making all these videos and I’d think this is a pretty big development of ‘living a normal life as a teen’, don’t you?” In all honesty, he wasn’t even going to record anymore of the video. They were evidence for a bet he wasn’t participating in. If only he’d told him the truth, and not that goddamn lie, then Aziraphale wouldn’t be jumping at the fact of recording this. He could say no - no, he should say no, but if he didn’t then he’d have to explain why and the lie he’d told would be useless.

“Yeah-yeah of course,” He began to fish out his phone from his pocket but Aziraphale was already handing him his own phone. He pressed his lips in a tight smile and opened the camera app. He could fake this for the next minute or so, he was fine. “So new year, new you, and you've decided to kick this off with a secret homosexual relationship. My, how quickly I’ve tainted you,” He gave him a wry smile, which he responded with an eye roll.

“Always with the dramatics, dearest,” He could get used to this nickname, as he completely forgot about his previous worries and fears. Aziraphale had that effect on him, the ability to make him forget about all the shitty things in the world.

“You love it, don't you?” Aziraphale smiled softly and nodded.

“Yes. Yes, I really do,” Crowley leant in once more, having their lips meet. They were both smiling into the kiss and he dropped Aziraphale’s phone somewhere near him, it wasn’t that important. He brought Aziraphale closer to, as so one forearm was squished between them as a hand cradled his neck.

Aziraphale winced, and Crowley took the opportunity to slide his tongue in once again. He was inexperienced, but he made it up with enthusiasm. Crowley could sit and do this for hours. One of his hands grabbed his hips, pulling him onto his lap so they were more comfortable.

He moaned against Aziraphale’s lips as he pinned him down with his thighs. Aziraphale was cradling his face with both hands and Crowley held onto his thighs, caressing them up until he let himself stoke those love handles he hadn’t let himself fantasise about.

Eventually though, they pulled apart for air and he could feel Aziraphale’s breath on his lips. “Fuck, you’re getting good at this,” He panted with his eyes close as he leant his forehead against his.

“What can I say? I'm a fast learner,” Crowley opened his eyes to find Aziraphale had wrapped his arms around his neck. He was so rapt in his eyes he didn’t notice the red that was spreading across Aziraphale’s arm. He turned to look, and Aziraphale’s eyes widened with panic.

“Um, Aziraphale. Your arm is bleeding,” He said with concern. Aziraphale flew off his lap and started digging around for something.

“Oh no. No no nonono,” He mumbled under his breath. Crowley watched as he pulled out a mini first aid kit. A used first aid kit. Crowley grabbed onto his non-bleeding arm to stop him for running away

“What happened?” Aziraphale avoided his eye. He hid the arm behind his back but it was no use. He saw it.

“It's nothing!”

“Angel stop. Let me see,” Aziraphale shook his head, his chest rising and falling for an entirely different reason. He tried to pull away but Crowley held on

“It’s really not-”

“Let me see!”

“NO!” But it was no use. Crowley grabbed the injured arm and pushed the sleeve back. Whatever words were about to come out died when he saw the bloody bandage around his arm. It was loose and he could see tiny puncture wounds along his arm that were bleeding. Aziraphale tugged his arm back, cradlinging it to his chest.

“Who did this to you?” He snarled. Aziraphale looked at the ground with his bruised eye and bleeding arm. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his. He can’t tell him. If he told him he'd be angry and if he finds out that his image was cracked, he’d be angry and there would be consequences

“I-I can’t-” He turned from him, trying to steady his hands as he brought out the new bandages. Crowley twirled him around be the shoulders, holding him in place

“It was your father, wasn’t it?” Azirapahel stared wide eyed. His lip was shaking with muffled sobs and he closed his eyes against the pain. He looked down at his shoes and barely nodded at his question. “I’m going to kill him,”

“No Crowley please!” He grabbed onto Crowley, as he panted and tried to get him to not storm off

“Angel, that fucker hurt you!”

“It’s nothing I haven't experienced. Honestly, I’ve lived through worse,” He reassured him, but that was the wrong thing to say because Crowley’s eyes flared with wrath.

“Worse? He shouldn't be touching you in the first place!" Aziraphale shut his eyes painfully as Crowley shouted at him.

"He just get's angry, that's all!"

"When my father is angry, he takes my phone away. He doesn't give me a black eye and stab me a million times in the arm!"

"It's just glass," He muttered softly to the ground. Crowley lifted his head with his fingers to make him look at him.

"Just glass that he pushed you in, right?" He asked, his fury lacing his tone. Aziraphale couldn't speak so he just nodded his head in confirmation. "Why didn’t you tell anyone?” He shouted back and all of Aziraphale’s rage and injustice that he had so carefully repressed came flowing out of him.

“You think I can just go and tell anyone what happens here? You have no idea what it's like in this house. The insane rules and pressures and ideas expected of you. Then, to make matters worse, you have to go out and pretend like you're some perfect and happy family when you're not! And if you try to say something…” He was well aware of the tears flowing out of his eyes but he collapsed with exhaustion onto his bed. He was so tired. He was tired of being paraded like some show-goat for his father, only to be treated worse than vermin at him. He was tired of acting that everything was fine because it wasn’t fucking fine “... his consequences outweigh anything that could happen if I tell the truth,” He said defeated, his fight gone.

Crowley watched on as Aziraphale’s defences came crashing down. He was immobilised in his own body and he watched as if he was having some sort of out-of-body experience as he moved towards him and started to fix Aziraphale’s wounds. Aziraphale stared with wide eyes, and although every fibre in him was telling that he shouldn’t allow Crowley to see this, he let himself get taken care of

“Why didn’t you tell me, then?” Crowley asked, still looking at his arm.

“I didn’t want to burden you with this. I dealt with it for the first 18 years of my life, I can do it for the foreseeable future,” He said dejectedly. Crowley shook his head as a sour expression took over his face.

“This isn't right, though. Nobody deserves this, you need to get out of here,” A bitter smile graced Aziraphale’s lips as he shrugged.

“And go where? I have no money, my father pays for my education, I'm not allowed to get a job unless he approves of it. My best option is to wait until uni, then I can get as far away from here as possible,”

“You don't need to wait. You can live with me,” Aziraphale cocked his head seriously, sighing deeply at his suggestion

“And how would it look? If a Prince was suddenly seen residing at the Crowleys. He’d find out and make things even worse,”

“Promise me,” Aziraphale met Crowley’s eye and his eyebrow furrowed in confusion

“Promise you what?”

“That if it ever gets too bad, you call me and get out of there,” He stated. Aziraphale shook his head with a reassuring smile

“Crowley, there really is no need-”

“Promise me you'll allow me to get you out of there if things get too bad,” Aziraphale pursed his lips, but didn’t respond. Crowley silently wrapped his bandages, cleaning around the stab marks the glass had left. A few of the scabs must have been picked off at some point during their kisses. When he finished wrapping his arm, he bent down and pressed soft kisses. When he pulled himself back up, Aziraphale held his hand.

“I promise,” Crowley seemed to relax a bit at his response, and kissed his knuckles softly. Aziraphale’s heart burned softly with fondness and a smile, a real one, graced his lips

“Where’s my phone?” Crowley looked around at Aziraphale’s question and bent down to pick it up when he remember what side of the room he had thrown it to

“Oh shit, it's still recording. Here you go, angel,”

“Thanks,” He handed the phone back just as they both heard the distinct sounds of cars pulling into the driveway up front. Both boys looked at each other with wide eyes.

“Is that your-?” Crowley started.

“That is my family, yes,” Aziraphale finished.

“Right, that is my cue to get the fuck out of here,”

“Go go go go!” He pushed Crowley to the window and he awkwardly wiggled his way through, muttering some curses under his breath when he knocked his head against the window frame. 

“Bye, angel,”

“Bye, dearest,” Crowley started to leave, but leant the top half of his body back into his room to press their lips together for one last kiss. Aziraphale cupped his face to adjust their angle and sighed happily into Crowley’s lips. Crowley sprang away from him and left him standing by the window to watch him leave.

Chapter Text

The first few days of school after an extended break were the worst. The early alarm is always louder than you remember it, the uniform gets ten times more uncomfortable and your body who got used to doing 200 steps max per day was forcibly being made to walk to each class for 7 hours. But Crowley found he didn't really mind it this time round, because when he was in the shower, and tying his tie and eating breakfast, he thought about Aziraphale.

They were texting a lot more often now, and for much longer. It was usually late at night because Aziraphale was worried his parents could walk in at any time and discover his hand in the cookie jar so to speak, and Crowley didn't really mind, he wanted to keep Aziraphale as safely out of reach from his father and if that meant them only taking in the heart of the night, he would ruin his sleep schedule for him. His stomach felt deep and heavy with the guilt of every passing day that he didn't tell Aziraphale about the bet, but he made up his mind that he'll tell him at school when they come back.

But now they were back, and Crowley was cursing his past self for being a massive pussy and chickening out of telling the truth 'cus now it was his problem. When they saw each other in form, they shared a secret smile that set butterflies free in his stomach. A secret smile that made them remember the flirtatious text they had sent to each other just the night before. A secret smile that reminded them of the kisses they shared at the beginning of this month. A secret smile that promised more.

It surprisingly took all of Crowley’s willpower to not kiss him the moment he saw him. He was being silly, he had spent the last 17 years not kissing Aziraphale Prince, he could last a few hours until they were alone. But he had never known the way Aziraphale’s mouth felt on his for those 17 years. He had never felt the way his hair feels in his hands and he had never felt the way Aziraphale quivered and shook beneath him. He was certain that if he knew all those things, those 17 years of not-kissing-Aziraphale would be a lot shorter.

In RS later that day, he allowed himself to press his thigh up against his under the table. They were sitting near the back, so not many people noticed Aziraphale jumping in his seat at the contact. Nobody saw the way he leant into Crowley when he realised nobody was watching. Adrenaline was coursing through both their veins, the thrill of being caught both exiting them and scaring them half to death.

He said his goodbyes to Aziraphale when he had English and started to make his way to the library for his free period. Or at least, he tried, because he was suddenly pulled into an empty classroom by a sweaty hand. Crowley almost fell into the classroom and he slowly regained his balance. The room was dark and he had to squint through his glasses to make out anything in the room. When his vision had cleared, he turned around to face his ‘kidnapper’ and his heart dropped when he saw Hastur.

“Where the hell were you?” Hastur crossed his arms, the clear smell of cigarettes singeing his nose hairs. Crowley shrugged, propping himself up onto a table behind him.

“Where was I when?”

“This morning,” Hastur’s expression was pissed, and Crowley got the sense that joking would get him some sort of injury. He chewed the inside of his lip in annoyance, and looked like he was one second from stomping his feet in anger.

“Form. Why?” He replied, looking at him cautiously. Hastur furrowed his eyebrows and scoffed in disdain.

“Since when do you go to form?” Crowley felt his shame rise up in his throat. He shouldn’t be ashamed of going to school like he has to, but it was like his body didn’t listen to reason. In his brain, he knew that his friends were a bunch of no good shitheads who didn’t really care about him, but he had this engraved need for their approval, no matter how futile and useless it was.

“I didn’t realise I had to answer to you. Did you hit your head over the break and forget who's in charge here?” He pushed himself off to get up in Hastur’s face. He waited for him to take a step back, to apologise and maybe offer him a cigarette as a peace offering. But Hastur stood firm and still, not even blinking when they were a few centimetres apart. Hastur just continued to look Crowley in the eye, and he was reminded of that fateful day in September, when Hastur had made the bet. He wasn’t scared then and he wasn't scared now.

“More like did you leave your ‘group’ and forget you’re the leader? I don’t think I’ve seen you since you blew us off during New Years,”

“Sorry, if I had to be sober during a political appearance for my dad’s campaign. I’ll ensure that the next time my dad is planning on doing something for the community, I will be well and pissed out of my mind. Is that what you want to hear?” He asked sarcastically, adding a bite to his question that made Hastur roll his eyes.

“I’m not here for that. I’m here for my money,” He stated as he put out his open palm towards Crowley. Crowley looked at it for a moment, before pushing it away from him and turned his back on Hastur.

“What, did I not pay you for a can of coke or sumthin? Didn’t realise money was that tight,” With his back turned, he didn’t see the way Hastur charged at him and forcibly spun him round and pinned him to the table.

“My 100 quid. I want it now,” He growled dangerously low, as he tried to be scary. It didn’t really work on Crowley, considering he was to overwhelmed with the stench of BO covered badly by half a bottle of Axe body spray.

“And why the fuck would I give you £100?” Crowley crossed his arms, trying to put some space between him and Hastur.

“For the bet, dipshit. Which you lost, as I said you would,” Hastur said courtly, clearly impatient as he waited for Crowley to give him the money. Crowley stood there for a moment, his eyes squeezed shut in confusion as he shook his head and stammered out a response.

“What the hell are you on about-”

“Have you shagged Prince?” Hastur questioned, cutting him off. Crowley hesitated for a moment. He straightened his posture and he thanked his dark lenses for giving him some sort of barrier between him and Hastur. He turned his gaze down to the floor.

“No,”

“Has the year finished?” He asked again, almost the second Crowley stopped speaking. Crowley’s eyebrows furrowed once again, his head cocked dangerously to the side.

“If you mean the calendar year, then yes,” Hastur rolled his eyes again, scoffing out a breath of frustration

“Of course I mean the fucking calander year. That was the bet, wasn’t it?” He said as if he had won the argument. Crowley clicked his tongue, and he started waving his finger no.

“No, the bet was the end of the year, as in the school year. Which means I've got,” He made a show of counting on his fingers, which made Hastur radiate even more frustrated. “6 more months!”

“No you don't. Ergo, you lost, now pay up!” His voice was edging into a shout, getting more and more dangerous for Crowey to play it as flippantly as he was at the moment.

“Since when do you use fucking Latin ? And I didn’t fucking lose! I can get Prince in my bed in no time. I am playing it slow so I can get the evidence. What the hell’s gotten into you?” He asked and Hastur’s face twisted into a scowl. His jaw clenched as he tried to quietly shout at Crowley

“What’s gotten into me is that I have waited 20 fucking days since January 1st for my £100 that I was promised, only for you to change the rules at the last minute to suit you like you always do!” Crowley raises his hands in exasperation. A soft scoff escaped his mouth and he half wanted to smash Hastur’s head against this table and break his nose.

“Well what do you want then? ‘Cus there is no way in hell I am losing 100 quid that I don't fucking owe you!”

“I want my money!” Hastur shouted, and they both looked at the door for half a second to check if any passers had heard him, considering they were currently not in the correct lesson and not supposed to be in an unsupervised classroom without a teacher present. Crowley pinched his nose bridge, ignoring Hastur’s pointed glare in his direction.

“You'll get that if, and that is only if , I don't get Prince to shag me,” He stated calmly, despite the anger bubbling under his skin, itching him to throw his fist against the side of Hastur’s face. For a moment, Crowley was hopeful that Hastur would leave it at that, because he continued to glare daggers at him but he didn’t say anything. Crowley held his eye with a patronising look similar to the one you give a misbehaving toddler that was clear even behind his dark shades. Hastur, thankfully, leaned back, crossing his arms again as he stepped further away from him.

“Well by then, I don't think I even £100,” He said calmly with a small shrug. Crowley groaned, tipping his head back in frustration

“Then what's all the complaining for-”

“I'll want more,” Hastur said, cutting him off again. His eyes were dark, almost blacking out his entire eyes, and Crowley scoffed to hide the fact he had never seen Hastur look like this. Like a demon.

“You can't be serious,” He turned his head to the side, but whipped it round at the instant sound of Hastur’s voice.

“Deadly, I'm afraid,” Again, Crowley had barely gotten his words out before Hastur was speaking. A sarcastic smile managed to etch itself on his face.

“Don't be afraid, it won't actually kill you to be serious,” Hastur leant over, giving him a quick jab in the arm, making it go dead. Crowley kept his face passive was already plotting when to jump Hastur to remind him who runs this fucking town.

“Add a few extra hundred and pay when you'll lose, or pay me 100 now,” He stated simply and Crowley couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You're insane,” He said, but Hastur remained unmoved. He should leave it at this. He should just fist the £100 note he has in his pocket, hand it over to Hastur and put an end to this whole affair. But his ego whispered for him to come to its defence and despite wanting to put this whole mess behind him, he straightened his posture again. “What's your price?

“£500,” Crowley pulled his glasses down and stared at him over the lenses, his disbelief evident and clear.

“You’re ridiculous,”

“£350,” He continued looking at him, to encourage him to lower the price until Hastur groaned out an exasperated sigh “Fine just double it! Fucking hell, you’re awful,” Crowley heard what Hastur mumbled at the end, but he was so caught up in his emotions he didn’t have the energy to address it a this moment. He pushed his glasses back up his nose, and he tilted his head kind of to the side, to give Hastur a judgy side-long glance.

“£200?” He asked quietly.

“£200,” Hastur repeated in reply. Silently, Crowley nodded, and he adjusted his blazer to centre himself again. Hastur watched and a sadistic grin started to form at the prospect of gaining more money than intended.

“Fine. Whatever stops your knickers from getting in a twist,” He joked to himself. Hastur’s grin disappeared into a scowl again, and he took two steps forwards until he was face-to-face with Crowley again.

“I won't forget this, Crowley,” He growled dangerously. Crowley didn’t move, only matched his expression with a sour and  bitter one of his own. Hastur eventually moved away and Crowley was given enough air to breathe again. Hastur said nothing else and he stormed to the door. He was halfway out the door when Crowley perked up with his comeback

“Oooh, I’m so scared!” The door echoed shut and Crowley was left alone with his thoughts. That’s when it clicked in his brain that instead of making his life easier, he just made it ten times worse. He was left repeating the same questions he thought when the bet was first made. Why the hell had he reacted so aggressively to something so stupid as someone daring to question his authority. It didn’t matter what Hastur, or Shax and them lot thought, so why did he constantly fuck up his own life to please them.

In the empty classroom, Crowley dragged a hand through his hair, tugging his hair gently as punishment for being so brash. He could fix this. He could just give Hastur the money and they can forget about this whole thing. More importantly, Aziraphale never had to know about this at all and maybe he can tell him years down the road and instead of being angry, they can laugh about how idiotic Crowley was.

All he had to do now is not fuck Aziraphale until July. Simple enough, right? He had spent the last 17 years not fucking Aziraphale Prince, what’s a few more months?

Chapter Text

It turns out that not having sex as a hormonal teenager is a lot easier said than done. It was definitely made easier by the fact that Aziraphale always stopped them before going too far, considering he was still coming around to the idea of being gay and what that meant for him with his faith and his family's expectation of him. Crowley wouldn't do anything to make him uncomfortable, especially considering that Aziraphale was the first person to treat him like a person, and not a Crowley, funnily enough.

He had always been told by his father that as a Crowley, people expected something of you. They either expected you to be great, to lead the town or they expected you to fail and become some criminal they see on the tv and make the same insincere ‘I never would’ve guessed’. Even his friends only really started talking to him because their families were strong supporters of his father and it was good for his father’s public view. It was until Aziraphale that he felt like he could be himself and not have to act like he was the coolest motherfucker on the planet. He didn’t need to pretend that the only way to have fun was to get high or drunk. He could just be .

It was on an early February day like this that he was uncharacteristically thankful that he made the bet and actually gave Aziraphale a chance instead of writing him off as just another stuffy boring Christian. If his shitty friends hadn’t coerced him into doing this, he wouldn’t have a reason to be staring so openly at Aziraphale, with the stupidest smile on his face. Aziraphale was gently chewing on one of his pencils as his eyes scanned over the words in the book he was annoying for his English class. Crowley felt his cheeks warm up as his mind insidiously wandered to a not so innocent side-by-side, where Aziraphale would have something else in his mouth. Aziraphale lifted his eyes from where he was looking, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

“Problem, dearest?” Crowley shook his head, but his dopey smile never came off.

“Nope,” Aziraphale closed the book, leaving the pen in the middle to keep track of his page.

“Then why are you currently supporting your ‘trouble’ grin?”

“It doesn’t mean trouble!” He said in outrage. Aziraphale cocked his head in a deadpan manner, and Crowley couldn’t help but drop his gaze to his lips. He gave a quick glance over his shoulder to see if anyone was paying attention to them. They weren’t, as the regular library goers had gotten used to the sight of them together. He turned back to Aziraphale, leaning in close so his lips were right next to Aziraphale’s ears.

“If you've got that big of a problem with it, why don't you come and wipe it off my face??” Aziraphale shot back, putting distance between them as he anxiously checked around to see if anyone had seen or heard what Crowley did. His eyes were wide with panic as he turned back to face Crowley.

“We-we can't! Crowley, we’re in public!” Crowley shrugged, leaning back so his chair was leaning on the back two legs and laced his hands behind his head.

“No one’s watching, angel,” He whispered. Aziraphale bit his lip in thought, and it almost looked like he was going to indulge Crowley, but a moment later, he shook his head, averting his gaze so he couldn’t look Crowley in his face.

“No. No, I can't, I'm sorry,” He picked at his fingers, refusing to lift his gaze. Crowley gave him an understanding smile, falling forward so his chair was stable again with a soft thud.

“Don't worry about it. It's not a problem that you don't want to kiss your secret boyfriend in public,” This made Aziraphale lift his head, his own smile being supported on his face, He stretched his arm out, to take Crowley’s hand in his face, but his face winced and his other hand instinctively grasped at his side. Crowley frowned, an uneasy feeling growing in his stomach “What's wrong?”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened with panic for half a second, but a mask returned and he replaced his whine with a wide smile “Nothing, it's just my side I-” Crowley cut him off before he could make an excuse

“Why? Did something happen to you?” Aziraphale eyes darted to the side as he laughed nervously.

“No, it didn’t-”

“Then what is it? Did your father-” 

“It's nothing. Please just leave it!” Thankfully, the librarian didn’t hear him raise his voice, but Crowley pulled back. Aziraphale sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair and tightening his jaw at his outburst. Crowley didn’t know what to say, but he desperately wanted to reassure Aziraphale, allow him to open up about his home situation. But Aziraphale was a closed book, saying he didn’t want to burden Crowley with something he can easily cope with by himself. 

Crowley chewed the inside of his cheek. It was agonisingly annoying knowing but being unable to do anything. If he was really stupid, he’d go to Aziraphale’s house and make his father regret ever making Aziraphale feel pathetic. But he couldn’t, so he had to endure this: Aziraphale refusing to open and try and deal with something no one ever should alone.

“I'm always here, y’know? If you want to talk about it. I wont do anything you're uncomfortable with but if there's anything I can do, please tell me.” He said and Aziraphale shut his eyes, another sigh coursing through his body.

“I know that, it's just… I can't do it here. In public, where anyone could be listening,”

“Do you wanna get out of here then?” He offered and Aziraphale looked at him tentatively. “I remember doing this in class and it’s one of the actual topics I don't struggle with,” 

“I don't know, what if-” Aziraphale started, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion.

“I'll bring you back at the same time you would’ve arrived if we continued staying here and studying. Please let me help you, angel,” He removed his glasses, wanting to communicate to Azirpahe to trust him, to let him in, to open up. Finally, Aziraphale made a movement that resembled a nod.

“Okay. Okay, yes, fine,”

They decided to go to Crowley’s house instead of their field, considering it was still an early February afternoon in England, meaning it was cold as hell. It was evident that Aziraphale didn’t want to talk about what had happened to him, at least not yet, so they rode in comfortable silence, with Crowley speaking up only to reassure him his father wasn’t home and no one was going to see him come in.

They immediately headed to the kitchen, grabbing some snacks for them to eat whilst watching a movie. He didn’t mention it, but Crowley noticed the way Aziraphale tensed as he tried to reach up to one of the higher cabinets to grab a box of Celebrations . They made their way up to Crowley’s room - which had gotten cleaner the more Aziraphale came around his house - and snuggled up under the covers with Crowley’s laptop playing old Horrible Histor y episodes to expand Aziraphale’s pop culture knowledge.

It was moments like this where Crowley wished he had the ability to freeze time, even for only a moment, to engrave it forever into his mind so that he can replay it over and over again. It was moment’s like his where Aziraphale forgot about the outside world and they could be normal teenagers in love like they have the right to be.

He mindlessly played with Aziraphale’s curls that tickled the curve of his neck. Aziraphale snuggled up even closer to Crowley, but a sharp wince came out of his mouth at the movement. Crowley pulled him apart for a moment, to look at him square on.

“You alright?” Aziraphale gave a quick nod, looking down to avert his gaze.

“I’m alright-”

“No you’re not, and I have been patient enough waiting for you to talk about it, so what’s wrong?” Aziraphale tensed his jaw, looking him in the eye for a moment before sighing, letting show the pressure he had on him.

“He had a bad day at work and mother forgot that she was supposed to cook a roast and… it’s really fine, dearest,” Crowley was overwhelmed with the urge to do… something, anything. He wanted to scream in Aziraphale’s father’s face and fight him until he was no longer a problem for Aziraphale and his mother.

“No it’s not. My dad has shitty days and because he’s an adult man who can control himself, he doesn’t take it out on his underage children,”

“That’s not fair-” He started, his expression sour.

“Yeah it isn’t bloody fair! You shouldn’t have injuries because your mother is human who forgets sometimes and he’s a vindictive bastard whose personality and behaviour come straight out of the 50s!” Crowley vaguely registered Rattus Rattus saying his signature catchphrase in the background, as Aziraphale pushed himself out of the bed.

“You think I don’t know that? You have no idea what it's like, constantly walking on eggshells in your own home. We can’t falter, we can’t crack, we can’t demonstrate any sort of human behaviour in case he disapproves. If you think I have it bad, you haven’t seen the half of it! And that's not the worst of it because as the youngest, I have it the easiest out of all of us. Do you know how many times my mother has thrown herself into the firing line for me? How many bruises and shoves and cuts she endures to keep me safe? What do I do to repay her? I lie and sneak around and I step out of line, so don’t sit there acting like you know the whole of it, ‘cus you don’t!” 

He was panting, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Aziraphale felt his heart pump blood throughout his entire body, making him feel warm as he let out his pent-up thoughts. He collapsed onto the bed, his back turned from Crowley as shame and internalised guilt came creeping in to suffocate him. He wasn’t registering the words of the show as he placed his head in his hands. Finally, he felt Crowley move towards him and sat beside him, staring at the same spot on the floor as him.

“You’re right. I don’t know the whole of it. I don’t know the half of it,” A pause. He leant his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder “But I want to. God, all I want is for you to be happy and I see you trying to cover it up, but I know you too well to know that you’re not. So if you ever need someone to cry to or shout at, I want to be that person,” He felt Aziraphale smile and lean his head above his own.

“That's very kind,” He whispered at last, his smile shifting into a smug grin when he said the four-letter-word. Crowley falsey gagged, pushing himself off so he could look at Aziraphale instead of the floor

“Don't make me regret it. You'll make me sound all sappy and lovesick. It would do horrors for my bad boy reputation,” Aziraphale nodded with fake agreement, exaggerating his words in reply.

“Of course, I wouldn’t dare,” Crowley rolled his eyes, but he found that his annoyance left as soon as he saw Aziraphale smile - like, actually smile - instead of forcing a tight lip grin in order to hide what he was feeling.

“Feel better?” He asked. Aziraphale relaxed, his smile never leaving his face as he nodded slowly.

“Yes dear,”  He responded. Subconsciously, he rubbed at his side, his fingers pressing lightly on the bruise. Crowley furrowed his eyebrows, licked his lips in thought and before he could think about it, spoke up.

“Can I see?” And just like that, Aziraphale’s smile dissipated and his body tensed up. He whipped up to meet Crowley’s stare in shock. “It's just- you’ve been complaining about it all day and I-I wanna see if something is wrong,” Aziraphale huffed out a shocked laugh, and Crowley felt his face warm up. He’s such an idiot! Why the actual fuck would you do that, dumbass?

Aziraphale looked down, messing with his finger whilst his eyes told Crowley that he was far away, in a distant but painful memory. A moment passed, then another with only the faint sound coming from his computer - which had fallen off the bed - as another Victorian died of the plague and it was like Crowley was drowning in the silence. It was just when he was about to try and save what had just come out of his dumb-ass mouth when Aziraphale, surprisingly, sighed and nodded.

Crowley had less than a second before Aziraphale was loosening his tie and unbuttoning his school shirt. His brain was short circuiting the more of his body that Aziraphale revealed. He vaguely felt his mouth hanging slightly open and his eyes widening with the realisation he was going to see Aziraphale shirtless. Unhelpfully, his stupid hormonal brain was sending impulses down and he had to remind it that now is really not the fucking time-

He finally shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and he tentatively raised his arm to show his side. He winced as he made the first, fast movement and slowed down when the pain shot through his body like a bullet. He met Crowley’s eyes, raising his eyebrows pointedly and not noticing the predicament he had made in Crowley’s trousers. Crowley gulped and carefully averted his gaze downwards to where Aziraphale had uncovered with his raised arm.

Sure enough, there was a massive bruise spanning from just under his armpit to the bottom of his ribcage. It was a ghoulish shade of puke-green and it made Crowley sick by just looking at it and imagining it was his father , his own flesh and blood, one of the people who is supposed to keep you out of harm’s way and not cause it. He gently poked at it, checking if any of the ribs were injured as best as he could.

But try as he might, his brain kept translating his shart hisses of pain into groans of pleasure and Crowley had to ground himself before he leant forwards and kissed the bruise in order to make it better. After a long period of silence, where Crowley was remaining half-hidden so Aziraphale didn’t see how red his face was, he finally spoke up

“Well?” He asked, locking eyes with some rockstar who was playing his guitar very enthusiastically. Crowley was snapped out of his half aroused, half worried-for-his-boyfriend's-safety-at-home daze and he cleared his throat with a cough. He pulled back up to Aziraphale’s level, making it a point to stare at Aziraphale’s face and nowhere else .

“Just a bruise,” A self-deprecating smile came onto his face and he shrugged with a sour acceptance.

“Just as I suspected since I last looked at it,” Crowley couldn’t help it before his gaze eventually ventured down. The bruise was hidden by Aziraphale’s arm but now that he had seen it, it was impossible to go back. How was he supposed the function knowing that someone who was supposed to love and protect him hurt him over something as insubstantial as a fucking roast dinner?

Aziraphale caught his inner turmoil and he gently cupped Crowley face upwards to look him in the eye. “I’m fine, truly,” He said with a smile. Although it made Crowley feel a little better, he still had that nagging feeling that he wasn’t doing enough. 

“I know. Remember our promise, ‘kay?” Aziraphale tilted his head to the side, looking at Crowley with a fondness he both adored and found slightly cringey. He nodded.

“I will. I do” He corrected. When his worry had passed slightly, the warmth from Aziraphale’s hand no longer comforted him but instead made him hyper aware of the blood flowing downwards (Which, honestly, was so wrong it made him feel shameful for this thing he was slowly losing control of).

“How ‘bout I take you out on Saturday? A date to make you feel better?” He suggested and he was delighted when Aziraphale nodded without hesitation.

“Okay. I'm sure I can do that,” He couldn’t help it but a grin made its way onto his face. It felt liberating being with Aziraphale when he wasn’t so worried about everything. It seemed that nowadays, Crowley was the more nervous one. In all fairness, he now knew what Aziraphale was so scared of in the first case. He was in absolute awe at how well Aziraphale had handled everything he had thrown his way whilst also balancing the insane pressure at home.

Now that the conversation was over, and they were no longer talking about his father’s toxic coping mechanisms, Crowley became increasingly more aware of the fact he still wasn’t wearing a shirt. He allowed himself a quick peek, to satisfy his urge, but it was like he had eaten something for the first time, and only now realised he was starving.

He looked nothing like Crowley, obviously, and some gear in the far back of his brain was spinning out of control with wild fantasies. His pale skin, where Crowley wanted to sink his teeth into and give him marks that don’t remind him of pain, but of pleasure. He wanted to run his hand down Aziraphale’s sides, to know what heaven felt like and replace that bruise with something he wouldn’t be ashamed of.

Aziraphale caught on, and he too realised he was a lot more naked than Crowley was and he was staring at him with an odd look on his expression. An expression he only saw when they were both out of breath from kissing.

“What now?” He asked innocently. He knew what Crowley was thinking, but he tried to play it off as if he thought Crowley was still worried about something. He knew he wasn’t what most people found attractive, and there was no way a guy like Crowley would find him particularly enticing. He was just saving himself the pain of rejection and maybe Crowley would play his part too. 

He didn’t.

“Nothing, I just really wanna kiss you right now,” He lifted his head back up and his eyes were hooded with want. It made Aziraphale’s breath catch in his throat. His heart started racing a million miles an hour and he was frozen. His brain - his stupid, unhelpful brain - started spouting verses, the hymns and homilies to try and stop this from happening. He thought back on all the sermons they had, about sin and eternal damnation, and the fear of God truly and well made him want to run away and never speak with Crowley again.

But he didn’t want that.

Would a God made from love really prohibit this? Would He really punish Aziraphale for accepting the love and comfort he hadn’t realised was missing from his life? He had promised himself he wouldn’t be like the rest of his family. So full of hate dressed up as a cheap copy of love, and if this was the form it presented itself at Aziraphale’s feet, he wouldn’t turn away from it anymore.

“I don't see what’s stopping you,” Crowley wasted no time. The second those words were out of his mouth, he pounced and closed the gap between them. Aziraphale instinctively buried his hands in Crowley’s hair and Crowley’s hand grasped at his neck.

Crowley palmed his side, the one without a bruise, pulling him impossibly closer. He felt Crowley darted his tongue against his lips and as he gasped in surprise, Crowley slithered his way into his mouth. Whenever he had heard people use their tongues during kissing, he had always thought the idea absurd and down right unpleasant.

But, oh my God .

He should’ve guessed that Crowley would be good with his tongue from his quick and witty remarks, because he was all but eating him in, making him forget the outside world even existed. It was them and only them in this one moment and the rest of the world could burn for all he cared as long as Crowley didn’t stop. 

His gasp of shock melted into a moan and Crowley drank it in like an alcoholic. Aziraphale squirmed beside him and he resolved the growing uncomfortableness of they’re position by swinging his legs over so he was straddling his angel.

Aziraphale hands went round his arse, pulling him as close as possible as he dug his fingers into his white hair. He was soft, so very soft and something carnal reared its head in Crowley’s stomach as he pushed forward, prohibiting Aziraphale from escaping him. He involuntarily bucked his hips forwards, creating a jolt of electricity as their groins connected. Aziraphale gasped at the sensation and Crowley couldn’t stop his hips from rolling forward again and again.

“ Crowley ,” He whined against his lips, his voice cracking as Crowley joined their groins once more.

“Let me make you feel good,” He moved down to his neck, feeling the rapid pulse against his lips. Aziraphale responded by lolling his head back, giving Crowley permission to nibble lightly on his ear. His grip on Crowley’s hips was powerful, refusing to let him go. “God, angel, please please please ,” He pressed a kiss behind his ear, on his cheek, the corner of his mouth and hovering above his lips. 

Despite every neuron in him shouting at him for pulling away as Aziraphale fell forward to try and capture his lips, he refused to go forwards if he didn’t respond. A needy whine escaped Aziraphale as he didn’t find Crowley’s lips. He nodded enthusiastically and pulled him in by the school tie he was still wearing.

Crowley relaxed into the kiss. Aziraphale was going to have to be the one to stop them because he was falling, falling harder than ever before and he knew the landing was going to be rough if he didn’t get Aziraphale beneath him right now.

“ I bet you you can’t get him underneath you by the end of the year! ”

The bet. Fuck, he forgot about the bet. This is wrong, he’d be taking advantage of him, and he wouldn’t know until it ruined him in a way that was wrong and evil. He pushed him off once more, and he felt his resolve dwindle the second he met Aziraphale’s lust-filled daze. His breath, which was already sparse from kissing, caught in his throat and he had to physically stop himself from lunging forwards.

This is wrong, but it felt so very right. Normally, Aziraphale would stop them the second he got even the tiniest bit handsy, but now he had his hands around his arse and was looking at Crowley’s lips like a specifically delectable eccles cake. He should stop this. Say he wasn’t in the mood - which is likely he’ll never believe considering how mind-numbingly hard he was in his uncomfortable tight school trousers. Unfortunately all the blood was leaving his brain and whatever few brain cells he had normally had gone.

“Words, angel, or I’m not touching another inch of you” Although, I can think of a particular set of inches I would love to wrap my hand around, or my mouth around . He didn’t say the second part, but he certainly thought it and it was enough for Crowley to roll his hips one more time. Aziraphale seemed like he momentarily snapped out of his daze, and the worry was back in his eyes. Although he didn’t normally want his angel to be uncomfortable, he secretly thanked God for inflicting this doubt on him. Clearly, he was going to say no and he would go… relieve himself in the bathroom and they can go back to watching Mathew Bayton being an absolute icon and Crowley’s conscious would be clear that he didn’t take advantage of the one person he-

“Okay,” He said, completely interrupting and ruining Crowley’s plan at self-salvation. Crowley stuck his head slightly forwards in shock and confusion, his eyes wide as his response didn’t make any sense according to the script he had already planned for this situation.

“What?” He blinked as he said and Aziraphale shrugged, to try and hide the fact he was shaking from desire and anxiety. Like this was a normal thing he did and wasn’t the biggest step away from what his father had dictated for him, which was the only thing he knew in life.

“Okay. Make me feel good,” His gaze dropped back to his lips and Crowley spluttered as he choked on nothing but his response.

This isn’t what he planned. This is completely and utterly and 100% the worst thing he could do. And if his friends every found out, then his and Aziraphale’s life would be ruined, all because of stupid fuckking hormones.

But

But if his friends never found out, then he could… indulge. For a moment and then he can pretend he never shagged Aziraphale and that he didn’t take advantage of him. It could be one, extremely locked up, restricted access type of secret where he could not betray Aziraphale and not have his friends celebrate the worst mistake of his life.

But most importantly, he got to shag Aziraphale.

“Ngk- Jesus Christ, angel, you’re like a fucking wet dream,” He waited no time to think about his actions nor their consequences before he lunged forwards like a mad man, making quick work on his tie, throwing off into the distance. Aziraphale moaned at his words, involuntarily bucking upwards, causing whatever little dignity Crowley had cannon ball out of the window. 

The force of his lunge made them fall back, and Aziraphale was splayed out underneath him with his hands besides his head. Crowley panted heavily through his mouth and allowed himself to drink in the sight. His cheeks were red and his lips swollen and bruised. Pride made its way and his cock jumped with interest at the thought he looked so dishevelled because of him.

“I’ll be gentle,” He said, leaning in closer without kissing him, but their lips were still close enough to be touching. Aziraphale smiled at the memory of New Years, when Crowley had said the exact same thing before he kissed him. He threw his arms around his neck, holding him close above him.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” He said and began to unbutton the buttons on his school shirt.

Crowley’s fingers were shaking as he joined Aziraphale’s efforts and he was growing increasingly more frustrated the more time he spent unbuttoning all the buttons on his school shirt. Aziraphale certainly was helping, as he quietly moaned little ‘ please ’s and ‘ oh ’s in his ear which only caused to accept the idea of just ripping his shirt off like he was the fucking hulk.

Fortunately, he managed to undo all the bleeding buttons - serious, why were there so fucking many? - and attack Aziraphale's mouth once more. Aziraphale accepted him welcomingly, holding onto the side of his face, smashing their faces together. It was messy and uncontrollable and there were more teeth than lips but Crowley was drunk on Aziraphale and he wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon.

Aziraphale spread his legs and let them rest on top of Crowley’s thighs, which slotted Crowley right between them with his bulge pressing into Aziraphale. The touch was electric and it sent a shock through both of them. Crowley was sure he had ascended and was now in heaven because he was seeing white at this point and he didn’t know pleasure until he had Aziraphale squirming under him.

Crowley kissed the underside of his jaw and Aziraphale closed his eyes as pleasure took over his body. He bit his lip as Crowley travelled further upwards to nibble at his ear to stop the embarrassing sound that was being made at the back of his throat.

Crowley’s hands were travelling, and with every new place they discovered, his heart beated even faster. He thumbed lightly over Aziraphale’s nipple, causing a gasp of shock to be punched out of him. He felt Crowley smile against his neck as he desperately tried to calm his growing anxiety.

He trusted Crowley, with every fibre of his being, and although his body craved him more than anything he ever had, he had his father’s voice ringing in his head. He desperately tried to mute it, but it got increasingly harder to do so when Crowley accidentally touched his bruise too hard, making him wince.

Crowley mistook his wince as a whine of pleasure, which spurred him forwards as he quickly palmed Aziraphale’s growing erection through his trousers. And it was like the gate that had precariously locked all his fears was unlocked and he was overcome by a sense of shame and fear like no other. He tensed as Crowley continued touching him through his trousers. 

He closed his eyes, tightening his jaw and he felt involuntary tears start to form. His heart was no longer beating with desire but with shame. It was fine, it was all in his head and if he could make it through it, he’ll be fine. Crowley skillfully pulled down the zipper on his trousers, frantically trying to pull them off. He can’t do this, this was wrong, he can’t.

“Wait, stop,” Crowley pulled back as if he had touched a hot stove. He panted through an open mouth, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He whipped his mouth with the back of his hand, drying his wet lips

“Is everything okay? Too fast?” Aziraphale nodded mutely before answering.

“A bit, yeah,” Crowley nodded, his eyes now filled with worry once again.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” A moment passed where Aziraphale looked up to Crowley leaning over him. His heart had calmed down, but he could still feel Crowley’s erection atop his, making it impossible for him to relax. “Can I… Can I keep going?” He asked

Aziraphale was mute for a moment, where he didn’t know what to say. He knew this is what other teenagers did, and normal teenagers didn’t have their father’s voice ingraining the fear of God into them. If he was normal, like Crowley was, then he’d be able to do this, instead of being annoying and whiny. 

He sighed, closing his eyes as he nodded “…I suppose,”

Crowley furrowed his eyebrows as he tilted his head in confusion “I suppose is not a yes, angel. Do you want me to keep going?” He asked again, emphasising the words as he spoke them slowly. It was clear how much Crowley wanted this, if his reaction to being able to have him was anything to go by. He wanted this so badly, to not feel like such a stranger in his own body. He didn’t want anyone to dictate how he thought anymore, but it was hard to let go of the hand that was leading you, even if that hand was poisoning you until you dropped dead.

He shook his head furiously. “I'm sorry. I can't do this,” He raised himself back into a sitting position, his voice betraying him by cracking embarrassingly, replacing the flush of lust in his cheeks with the flush of shame. Crowley got off of him quickly enough, and he wordlessly walked around his room, grabbing one of his oversized hoodies from the floor and handing it to Aziraphale. Aziraphale looked up from where he was staring, his eyebrows furrowing at the garment. He took it apprehensively, rubbing the used fabric between his fingers

“There's no need for you to apologise, angel,” Crowley sat next to him. Aziraphale sighed, rubbing his hand across his face. He hated this, he hated the pity that was radiating off of Crowley. He could handle himself, he didn’t need to be treated like some infant. If he wanted that, he'd just hang out with his siblings. 

He hated putting himself in this position. He thought that in Crowley’s mind, he’s some weak person who needs rescuing. And because of what? Because he got scared and nervous before doing the one thing that was always forbidden to him? 

“You don't get it. I want to do… this. I really, really want to but it's like the second we go any further, my brain is shouting at me and making me feel awful and dirty,”

“You do know there's nothing wrong with-”

“I know that!” He raised his voice, making Crowley’s eyebrows shoot up. He was much more expressive and easy to read without his glasses, and he didn’t know if he liked that or not, because he could see how little Crowley viewed him as an actual person who can take care of himself. He took a deep breath before continuing. “I know that it's just…. hard to not think the way you have for your entire life. I just apologise that you have to deal with all of my melodramatic antics,” Crowley, much to Aziraphale’s surprise, started chuckling quietly to himself. Aziraphale turned to look at him, and Crowley shook his head at his expression

“Angel, if you think our relationship is based solely on the fact of whether or not I can get you in my bed, you might be less intelligent than I thought,” Aziraphale turned to look at his hands on his lap. Crowley  grabbed them, making Aziraphale turn to look at him again. “I would stay even if I could never touch you ever again,”

Aziraphale let a smile creep into his face. He didn’t want to lose Crowley, and he was prepared to push himself to the extremes of his confines to please him. He calmed down, now knowing that Crowley would hate to be the reason that Aziraphale was unhappy. In the heat of the moment, he had forgotten that Crowley wasn’t so base as to see him the way he saw himself in the mirror. He saw the real him, and he was the reason Aziraphale saw him too.

“While I appreciate the sentiment, I'm sorry to say, dearest, but that might be the sappiest thing you've ever said,” Crowley rolled his eyes as he shoved Aziraphale’s hands out of his hands.

“Shut up!” He groaned.

“I don't think you could try and come back from that one. Reputation is ruined as far as I can see, I'm not going to lie,” Crowley dropped his jaw in fake-hurt, even going so far as to slap his hand over his heart

“Well you should! Definitely should lie!” Aziraphale couldn’t help it, and his own laugh escaped his mouth. He became, at that moment, that he was still shirtless so he pulled on the hoodie Crowley had given him. The material was noticeably worn and used, but still soft, and it carried Crowley’s scent that immediately placed a disgustingly sappy grin on his face. He met Crowley’s eyes, which were filled with so much fondness, he now understood the phrase ‘butterflies in his stomach’.

“Come on, I gotta show you the Highwayman song, cus Mathew Bayton is so fine in that.,”

Chapter Text

A week passed, and both both somewhat forgot they encounter on the Monday of that week and Saturday rolled around quickly, meaning they had one more week left of school before they broke up for half term and wouldn't be able to see each other until the end of their second set of mocks the week they come back. As always, Aziraphale managed to escape his house by saying that he was revising with Newt. He had done it so often that his father had stopped calling the Pulsifer residence like he did in the earlier days and soon enough he was in Crowley's car and speeding away from his neighbourhood.

"Where are we going?" Asked Aziraphale, after being in the car for a few minutes, the silence being filled by the soft rock music Crowey alway had on.

"They opened a new sushi place, and I thought we could grab something to eat there," He said, his eyes uncharacteristically fixed on the road. Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows slightly, tilting his head to the side as he spoke again.

"I think I've seen it. Isn't it in the middle of town?" He asked, already feeling his heart pick up at the thought of them being in public together where anyone might recognise them.

“Nnnyeah, technically. It's, uh, actually really near the church, funnily enough,” Crowley shifted uncomfortably in his seat, flexing his fingers at the wheel and switching his gaze from him to the road. Aziraphale faced the front, desperate to not let his panic show. Crowley knows well enough how he used to act before they got together, back when he wouldn’t even admit he and Crowley were friends and if he was going to change for himself and for Crowley, he refused to let old fear control him any longer

“Oh. I-I thought as much,” He gave him a tight smile, feeling entirely annoyed at himself for the stammer he let out involuntarily. Crowley turned his head to look at him and Azirpahle made a point to hold his head up and not meet his gaze.

“What's wrong?” He asked.

“No, nothing,” He responded quickly, his voice curt and cold. Crowley’s eyebrows disappeared into his dark glasses, looking briefly at the road to make sure he wasn’t running over any cyclists before responding.

“You’re not worried we will go somewhere where someone might recognise us and tell your father, are you?” He asked. Aziraphale quickly whipped his head around to look at him, shaking his head no.

“No! I-” Crowley tipped his head back with a cackle at his reaction and just when Aziraphale was about to feel his cheeks flush hot, Crowley shook his head with a mischievous smile and responded.

“I’m just messing with you, angel. I called earlier to order our meal and we’re just going to pick it up. Be in and out,” Aziraphale instantly relaxed. He gave him a gentle smack on his arm, which Crowley tried - and failed - to avoid.

“Oh, you fiend!” He clicked his tongue with faux-annoyance, Crowley’s smile never disappearing when he turned to look at him.

“You love me!” Aziraphale froze, his smile dropping instantly and that’s when Crowley realised what he had just said. Like a switch had been turned on, he fixed his posture and pointedly looked at the road ahead of him, his arms straight and tense. “I didn't mean that! Not that I think you don't, you do! Ah- Unless you’re not ready yet which is, like, so totally cool. That wasn't, though-”

“I think we're nearly there. Dear,” He said, cutting him off. Crowley nodded stiffly, the air thick and uncomfortable. Aziraphale chewed silently on the inside of his lip, conscious of how close his arm and Crowley’s arm were sitting on the armrest between them. Neither refused to look at the other whilst pulling into the car park of the sushi place

“Just-uh, duck if you see someone you recognise,” Aziraphale picked at his nails and nodded without looking up. Crowley pushed a puff of air out uncomfortably before getting out of the car. Aziraphale allowed himself to look up once he heard the car door shut behind him and release the breath he was holding ever since he had uttered that word.

The-L-Word. Something he had never really heard in his household, despite the countless hypocritical Sunday sermons. He could scarcely remember when his father had told him he loved him, or was proud of him and he never heard his parents say it to each other. He wouldn’t call his perception of love skewed, just slightly… tilted. And he was certainly told many and many times he could never say that word to any one his father disapproved of. 

But Crowley had said it so casually, so easily, he felt that childish jealousy come back again that came whenever Crowley talked about his own family and childhood. He was sure that the first time he would say that word, it would be at an altar, with some lovely Christian girl that his father adored and he had hoped that by the time he reached that point, he felt it and wasn’t lying to the both of them. He certainly never imagined that the first person he’d ever consider saying it to was Crowley.

He sometimes felt that he was on the edge of the world, precariously close to the edge when everyone else was far away but telling him to run, leap, don’t fall. He felt alone, and whenever he thought he had regained his balance, something pushed him unsteady. Why had he frozen? He was trying to reform himself, surely saying… that to Crowley would be the quickest way to do that. Thankfully, he was saved from his inner torment when Crowley opened the door and handed him two plastic bags, the warmth and smell radiating softly from them.

“Here you go, angel,” He muttered as Aziraphale gave him a tight lipped smile. As Crowley started the car, he took a deep breath in, allowing the heavenly smell to fill his nose.

“My, that smells so good,” He said, trying desperately to remove any lingering tension with a smile.

“Mhm,” He hummed back, which didn’t really help Aziraphale’s mission, it actually made it more difficult for him to not feel uncomfortable once more. He let the car rumble to life, and two agonisingly awkward minutes pass before he spoke up once more.

“So, where are we actually going, dearest?” He asked, hoping the pet name would put him back into Crowley’s good books - not that he had any other kind for Aziraphale. He took a deep breathe in before responding.

“Well, considering it isn't that awful of a day, I thought we could go to the field,” He gave him a sidelong glance, which Aziraphale counted as progress as he was looking at him once more.

“Like a picnic!” He said excitedly. Crowley’s face melted into a soft, fond smile as he looked back to the road.

“Exactly like a picnic, angel,” He said, leaving the awkwardness behind a racing car.

Thankfully, the two boys regarded that past moment as forgotten, and soon enough, their normal comfortable - and not at all awkward - atmosphere was back. They stopped by their usual shop, and the guy at the counter pretended not to notice the two most influential boys in town coming in together with their hands interlocked.

They decided to not buy any alcohol, much to the surprise of the cashier, who was ready to look past the lack of ID like usual, and to Crowley, who had pretty much gotten pissed anytime he could whenever he was out of the house. It was because Aziraphale had to go home straight away, and he couldn’t risk his father smelling alcohol on him.

Despite it being early February in England, the weather was on their side for once, and although it wasn’t sunny, it wasn’t cold, meaning they could easily eat outside without freezing to death. They started unpacking all the sushi, which had cooled down on the way up and was now the perfect temperature. 

They talked about school, the newest gossip - although, if Crowley called it that, Aziraphale would tut and stop their shenanigans, claiming it was a sin to gossip although he enjoyed it as much as Crowley - Uni applications, and how Aziraphale had gotten waitlisted for Oxford, which was his number one school and just enjoyed each other’s company. After a moment of silence, Aziraphale sighed blissfully, looking off into the distance over their town before looking at Crowley with a soft and fond smile,

“This is lovely. Thank you for taking me out,” Crowley titled his head, his own smile matching Aziraphale. He had taken off his glasses a while ago, and Aziraphale could see the way his eye traced over his face, as if he was memorising every detail.

“No problem, angel,” He pressed a quick kiss to his lips, still marvelling over the fact Aziraphale blushed whenever he got close.

“What do I owe you?” He made his way to his bag and started ruffling through it before Crowley placed a hand over his arm gently to stop the motion.

“Nothing angel. It's a date to make you feel better,” For a moment, Crowley thought he wasn’t going to let up, but removed his hand from his bag. He sighed deeply and Aziraphale pursed his lips tightly.

“One of these days, I'm going to have to repay you for everything,” He said, with the tiniest hint of frustration, but Crowley knew it was in good nature. Then more quietly, he added on “You've done a lot for me,” His eyes were far away, like they always were and he gently pulled his attention back to the moment, and not whatever horrible thing he was remembering by gently cupping his face.

“I like doing a lot for you,” Aziraphale fell into the warmth of his hand, closing his eyes as any pain from the memory left in an instant. Crowley shuffled next to him, so their shoulders were squished against each other and they were both looking outwards towards the town rather than each other.

“So what book did you bring this time?” He asked, eyeing his bag to see if he could gather a hint from the cover. Aziraphale turned his head to look at him, confusion and panic evident in his eyes as he stammered out his lie with a anxious smile,

“W-W-Why would I need a book when we are together, dearest? It would be rude of me t-to ignore the company and read,” Crowley didn’t listen, only sighing and rolling his eyes so hard they could’ve fallen out.

“Because you always bring a book, angel,” Aziraphale scoffed, but the look of guilt was created on his face as he looked at his bag, the knowledge that Crwoley knew him so well weighing heavy. Crowley knocked him lightly with his shoulders, making them sway in the direction. “I'm not offended, I just know I will always be your second priority!” He wiped a fake tear from his eye, which pulled a ‘tsk’ from Aziraphale with an affectionate smile.

“Oh, stop with all the melodramas!” Crowley snorted, regaining his composure and hugging his knees to his chests as a gust of wind picked up.

“Seriously, which book did you bring?” He asked again, and Aziraphale looked like he was going to deny it once more, but a defeated huff left his lips and he silently pulled the book from his bag.

“ Romeo and Juliet, ” He eventually muttered and Crowley had to scoff.

“Shakespeare? Really?” He asked incredulously to which Aziraphale twisted the upper half of his body to look at him, their same old argument brewing to the surface once again.

“Yes really. Is there a problem with that?” He said, turning to look back at him. Crowley put his hands up in self defence, consciously avoiding his stare and looking outwards.

“Nah, I’m just glad it wasn’t fucking Hamlet again,” Aziraphale placed the book next to him, shaking his head in disbelief with a frown with no real venom behind it.

“I will never understand your hatred for the greatest English playwright and poet,”

“It's not hatred, I just prefer the funny ones. And besides, I have some deep rooted trauma from good old R&J from GCSE English,” Aziraphale scrunched his face up in confusion, his mouth hanging open as he tried to stutter out a response.

“Firstly, no one calls the greatest love story in the world ‘R&J’. Secondly, we studied Macbeth ,” Now it was Crowley’s turn to look confused as he spun to look at him.

“No we didn't,” Aziraphale leaned his head forwards, his lips tight in and eyebrows furrowed

“Yes we did. Remember? Question was about the supernatural?” Crowley searched his face for any signs of bullshit, but Aziraphale kept looking confused and somewhat concerned. Then his mind produced some vague memory of Hastur and Shax talking utter nonsense about witches and ghosts when the question was on Juliet. 

Crowley’s jaw dropped and he actually smacked his hand across his face as he realised his massive mistake. “Oh, I just realised I answered the wrong question!” Aziraphale let out a soft chuckle, rubbing his nose bridge and muttering to himself.

“Oh my God,” He said with a faint smile and an eye roll. Crowley was pulled from his realisation as he looked at him incredulously. Aziraphale looked at him confused before he realised what he said. “I mean-”

“Did you just blaspheme?”

“No,” He turned away from him.

“Yes you did, you took the Lord’s name in vain!”

“I did not!” Aziraphale tried to defend himself, his voice going to an embarrassingly high pitch.

“Yes you totally did! Haha, it’s working! My temptations are spreading, infecting you,” He poked him, only relenting when Aziraphale grabbed his wrist and held him there.

“You are an awful person,” He said bluntly whilst looking him in the eye. Crowley threw his head back, one hand placed on his forehead and the other slapped across his heart. He let out a fake sob that didn’t move Aziraphale one bit.

“You wound me, angel. Deeply wound me,” Aziraphale said nothing, but turned his back and opened the book next to him to one of the tabs. Crowley huffed out in disbelief, his mouth comically wide. “Oh wow, really? You're gonna turn your back and read?” He wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling Aziraphale under his chin to look over his shoulder “What happened to hanging out with me?”

Aziraphale smirked, a smirk that betrayed how much of a bastard he really was, and turned his neck as much as he could to look at him. He closed the book but kept it in his head with a finger still staying in to keep his page. “Depends. Are you gonna behave yourself?”

“Depends. What are you gonna do if I don't?” He pressed a kiss to his neck. Instead of tilting his head back to give him more space, he opened the book again and turned away from him “No please angel come back,” He removed himself from behind him but laid his head down onto his lap, looking up at him.

“Read some for me,” He said softly. Aziraphale pulled his eyes from the book to look down at him.

“I thought you said you had some deep rooted trauma with Romeo and Juliet ,” He said with an easy smile. Crowley shrugged the best he could whilst lying down, taking the time to interlace the hand not holding the book with his.

“Maybe, but you make it better,” Aziraphale arched an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile.

“That was disgustingly sweet, you know that?”

“I know. I made myself sick,” He replied quickly but made no move to drop his hand or to move his head. Finally, Aziraphale turned his attention back to the book, rubbing the back of  Crowley’s hand with his thumb.

“Alright then: ‘ O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? / Deny thy father and refuse thy name / or if thou wilt not, be sworn my love / and I'll no longer be a Capulet ’,” Crowley made a low noise in the back of his throat, momentarily stopping Aziraphale.

“Straight to the famous bit then,” Aziraphale nodded slightly, his eyes glazing over the whole passage, his eyes lost in thought. Before he could pull him out of it, he spoke

“It’s funny. Everytime I read this passage, I can't help thinking of you. Of us. The resemblance is almost uncanny,”

“I mean, I guess. Only difference is I'm right here,”

“You do know that's not what that quote means, right?” He said, flicking over the page and Crowley nearly sat up straight in surprise.

“It’s not?! What’s it mean then?” He exclaimed. Aziraphale looked down to him

“It doesn't mean where are you Romeo, it means why are you Romeo. She's saying if he was anybody, with any other name it it would be fine. Like here: Were he not Romeo call’d / retain that dear perfection which he owes / without that title. Romeo, doff thy name / and for that name, which no part of thee, / take all myself ,” He finished off the quote growing quieter as the words flowed easily and smoothly out of his lips.

“And in normal English?” He gave him a look before answering.

“If he wasn’t called Romeo, he'd be just as perfect as he is now. Romeo, take off your name, and in exchange for that superficial part of you, take all of me,” His voice was quiet, gentle and romantic. His eyes bounced around the page, getting lost in the story he must have read countless times before. 

His hand left Crowley’s but went up towards his hair, stroking it softly. It had been an unconscious choice at first, keeping it long whenever he had it cut, but ever since the ferris wheel in mid-November when Aziraphale admitted to liking his hair long, Crowley had refused to cut his hair shirt. He was even willing to undergo some snide remarks from his friends - if he could even call them friends anymore, considering their presence made him feel sick - in order to make Aziraphale happy.

He made a low noise of pleasure, shutting his eyes at the sensation and leaning desperately into his hand. He vaguely felt Aziraphale pick up a small chunk of it and tie it into a loose braid. He peeled his eyes open, just looking at Aziraphale as he worked on his hair.

“That would be nice. Us being Romeo and Juliet. Then the whole world could know our names throughout history and we wouldn’t have to hide like we do,” He spoke gently, and Aziraphale’s hand slowed down for half a second in confusion

“The whole plot is that they can't be together and that they have to hide their love. Not only that, but they kill themselves over it,” Aziraphale responded rather bluntly, which made Crowley stutter.

“Okay, so we wouldn’t kill ourselves. Maybe we’d just, like, run away or sumthing,” He stroked his hair, and Crowley to fight the urge to close his eyes at the sensation. That would make him look stupid, which would be mortifying in front of Aziraphale and would result in him stopping. Which is bad, because it felt very good.

“In some other universe we wouldn't need to run away. We could just be who we are and no one would bat an eye,” His smile was unreadable but his eyes were sad, a misery that took over him. He could see his internal struggle, a struggle that juggled him having two lives, the one his father saw, and the real him. It was heartbreaking, for both of them, to know they could do nothing to make it better. 

They couldn’t tell anyone, certainly not their parents. They couldn’t go out anywhere in case they were recognised. They had to make due with stolen glances and secret smiles. The second they were in the public eye, they were apart, separated and not allowed not mix.

Crowley sat up, slightly startling Aziraphale with the sudden movement. He tucked one of Aziraphale’s loose curls, staring into his angelic blue eyes, filled with hope and a light despite their situation. Crowley gulped, just taking in the other boy like he was the only source of water in a desert.

“Some other universe,” He said at last. It seemed to help, if only by a little, and Aziraphale’s smile grew a tiny bit. He sighed, bringing his hand down from his face, clicking his tongue as he looked around.

“I should probably take you home,” He said with a shrug as he stood up. Aziraphale’s eyes snapped from the daze he was in, surprise evident on his expression.

“Now?” The other asked incredulously. Crowley’s eyebrows shot up as his reaction.

“Ngk-Well. I mean, we could stay, but it's better if you’re home earlier than later,” Aziraphale bit his lips and Crowley searched his face. His eyes flicked around him, before he fixed his gaze to him again andlicked his lips.

“Actually, I was thinking we could…y'know,” He stood up slowly, his hands fidgeting with his clothes as he took a step forward. Crowley watched with wide and surprised eyes, as he looked up at him with an emotion that would make his father scream.

He knew that expression. He had dreamt and imagined it thousands of times, especially late at night. It was an expression that fueled his late night wank session in the early days, back when he was still trying to convince himself that he didn’t find Aziraphale Prince extremely attractive.

“Could what, angel?” He asked, playing as dumb as he could. Surely he wasn’t gonna admit it-

“I think I’m ready,” He blurted out so quickly that Crowley almost didn’t catch it. But he did.

“What?” He asked again. Aziraphale sighed, taking his hands with a burst of confidence and interlocking their fingers to bring himself closer. Enticingly close.

“Ready to take the next step ,” The euphemism didn’t pass by him. How could it when Aziraphale was looking at him like a particularly enticing slice of cake? He felt himself blush, which is insane considering all the things he thought of and standing close was at the very bottom of the sinful list he wants to do to Aziraphale Prince.

“Now?!” He exclaimed, his voice reaching a pitch he didn’t even know was possible for him to achieve. He took a step back to create distance. Distance - distance was good. Distance meant that he didn’t have to see how lust and desire and want fit Aziraphale like a glove. Distance didn’t tempt him into shagging Aziraphale senseless. Distance meant that he didn’t have to take advantage of Aziraphale and he wouldn’t complete the bet which meant he wasn’t an absolute piece of shit.

“Yes now ,” His voice practically dropped an octave, much like it did when he first corrected Crowley in September about his name. Much like what made him embarrassingly hard late at night when picturing all the dirty and sinful things he’d managed to pull out of him when he finally got him under him.

Aziraphale didn’t wait a moment, and lunged at him as he spoke. Crowley was going to say something, but Aziraphale had thrown his arms around his neck, pulling him down to meet his lips. Crowley’s hands instinctively went around his waist, pulling him as close as he could. The second they touched was like if a fire was engulfing them, and there was no turning back.

Aziraphale’s hands wandered upwards to cradle the back of his head. Crowley allowed himself to indulge and groan quietly into his mouth. He felt him smirk - the bastard - and used the other hand to cradle his jaw line. He felt his knees go weak, and he wanted nothing more than to lay him on any physical surface, the floor preferably, but a tree or the hood of his car worked, and just ravish-

“W-w-w-wait hold on,” He jumped back, Aziraphale’s hands remaining for a moment where they were and eyes wide at the loss of contact. “That's-this is great and all just-uh. We, well, we can't,” He finished lamely, trying desperately to regain his breath as he panted.

“We can't?” Aziraphale repeated, titling his head as his chest rose and fell in the same way.

“Yeah I mean it's…” He racked his, trying his hardest to find a good excuse as to why he shouldn’t shut up and continue kissing him. Aziraphale eyebrows furrowed the longer he waited, and he felt his heartbeat increase, and not because of the kiss. “… illegal,” He finally said. 

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped into a smile of shock and disbelief. “Illegal!?”

“That's what I'm going with, really?” He muttered to himself. Aziraphale’s expression twisted in annoyance, his eyes narrowing at his words and Crowley’s eyes widened in panic. “Yeah! ‘Cus… you know! You're 18, I'm 17, so still and minor and all that. So as much as this is all very good and lovely - really good and lovely - we-we probably shouldn't. At least until my birthday,” He explained, his arms waving chaotically as he tried to explain himself. His expression soured, straightening himself as he took a step back from him and Crowley’s confidence and composure left.

“So you're fine with smoking and drinking underage , breaking several speed limits, being known, and proud of the fact, as the son of a corrupt politician who often takes unethical and illegal bribes? But having sex with me is the unthinkable?” He heatedly explained. Crowley tried to find the words, unable to stammer out more than a singular word.

“Well-”

“Oh my God, I can't believe you!” He spun around from him, shouting over his shoulder as he stormed towards his car, hands tangled in his hair. Crowley stumbled after him, grabbing his shoulder to turn him around.

“Angel wait-” He started but Aziraphale’s voice cut him off, his eyes burning with angry tears.

“No, I get it. Truly. You tell me that you like me and that you find me attractive - but you would never have sex with someone like me, right?” He bit out, jaw tight as he awaited a response.

“It’s not like that!” He shouted with urgency but was met with an indignant scoff.

“Isn’t it? Because I'm pretty sure it is like that, Crowley!” He turned his back again, and Crowley’s desperation multiplied.

“You are attractive!”

“Oh stop lying! You just can't help it, can you?” His hands tore at his hair, his face scrunched up with wrath.

“NO!” Crowley tried to respond but was cut off once again. 

“You know, I wouldn't want to have sex with the overweight, nerdy, traumatised Christian kid either, but I never thought you of all people would be so cruel!” His voice broke, and his face was twisted in scowl, refusing to let tears form in his eyes.

“Angel-”

“I think it's best if you take me home now,” He said, turning around and striding towards the car, refusing to let Crowley turn him around again by pushing his hands when they made contact.

“Aziraphale, please just let me explain,” He shouted after him, picking up the pace to keep up with his strides

“You don't have to explain anything, Crowley,” He said bitterly. Crowley groaned in frustration as he run around to end up in front of him

“Please just hear me out!” He placed his hands on his shoulders to stop him from moving forwards anymore. Aziraphale sighed angrily, crossing his arms as he waited. Crowley sighed in relief, removing his hands when he was sure he wouldn’t run off. “I do wanna do it with you. Believe me, it is all I think about and I would jump at the opportunity. But it hasn't even been a week since you freaked out when we got to… the main event! I just want you to be absolutely sure that you're ready,”

“So you want me to be sure, but the moment I tell you I’m ready, you say no?” His voice was no longer harsh and had no venom to it, but his arms was still crossed and his face was twisted in a scowl.

"It's not that, it's just-It’s so soon since the last time we tried anything so I would recommend just taking the extra time to consider it, that's all!” He grabbed both of his hands, undoing them from their position. Aziraphale looked into his eyes, his eyebrows creased upwards and jaw still tight. Crowley moved one of the hands and cradled his face softly. “I promise you, you are the most wonderful and beautiful person I have ever met. Personality wise and appearance wise. You have no idea what effect you have on me angel, and the moment I can lay my hands on you, I'm not passing it up or stopping,” He promised quietly, and Aziraphale blushed lightly at the promise of more, the promise of something new.

“Plus I dont want our first time to be in a fucking field. I plan on doing it somewhere where I won’t have grass showing up in places it shouldn't for the week to follow,” Aziraphale chuckled, a nice chuckle and his face creased with humour. Crowley felt his own smile return. “Feel better?” He asked. Aziraphale stopped for a moment, slightly worrying him, but his smile grew again as he nodded.

“Yeah,”

“Come on, let me take you home, angel,”

Chapter Text

Before I can excuse my tardy upload, i feel like a need to address something important that has happened in the GO fandom recently:

I think by now everyone has heard about the SA allegations towards Neil Gaimen, and they make me sick. He is a man that brought me so much joy with his creations, with not only Good omens, but his other books are such a source of comfort for me, so to hear what he has done breaks my heart and my heart goes out to his victims. 

The allegations may be false, but they may also be true and I am a firm believer of believing the possible victims over a possible predator and rapist, even if that means supporting transphobes as a trans man. Which means that for the time being, I will no longer be supporting Neil Gaimen, which made me confront a horrible decision that make me feel like total shit no matter what i choose: should i continue this fic?

Part of the reason this next chapter took so long was because I was debating whether to not i should keep updating and therefore, while not directly, keep endorsing and supporting the creation of a horrible man. I dont believe you can separate the art from the artist, because the art is a continuation of its creator, but this fic is something I enjoy writing, and i know you guys enjoy reading it. It's gotten comments, kudos, fan art, and i am so incredibly grateful for each and every one of you. This is something that i have written for over half year and I am always think of the next chapter, possible interactions between the character, so to stop is something that would be incredible heartbreaking for me. But to continue, it feels like i am betraying every moral i have and that i have no ground to stand on if i betray myself.

This decision is one of the hardest I've had to do, but ultimately ive decided to continue this fic. i hope that this fic can be a form of escapism, where the readers, you, can forget, for even a moment, that something you once loved and adored, has been tainted by the horrible actions of a man. the beautiful thing about ao3 is that every work is for the fans, and because it belongs to the fans, it means its ours to do whatever we wish with it.

so while Gaimen may be a horrible person whose done horrible things, this fic can be your home. this fic can be what Good omens can bring to you: joy, comfort, peace.

so for the victims that have been brave enough to speak up: you are loved, and you have our support. thank you for sharing your story with us and everyone that is too preoccupied with getting a season 3 need to learn about time and place.

And to the readers: thank you. I have no words to describe what this fic has brought me, because it brought me you guys and you are beyond words. Whether you're a regular commenter or this is the first time you're reading this fic, i love and appreciate each and every one of you.

as always, I hope you have a wonderful day/afternoon/evening/night wherever you may be and enjoy the next chapter 💖 

Chapter Text

They quickly packed up their stuff, with Aziraphale handing Crowley the remaining food for next time, despite how much he wanted to bring it home as his father would find out he hadn’t been studying, which was the only reason he allowed him to leave the house. Crowley gave him a lift home, the bus stop still being abandoned which allowed Aziraphale to step out with no worry and walk home. He shoved his hands into his coat pocket, grateful for the warmth it provided in the February evening; his mind spun with a million thoughts and memories.

He had felt ready, he wanted to show Crowley he was no longer under his father’s or the Lord’s control, and yet he refused. He outright repelled himself away. Maybe that was a bit exaggerated, but that’s what it felt to him. It just didn’t feel right, although his excuse seemed reasonable enough and made sense in his brain, his heart was telling him something was wrong. His heart was telling him he had another reason and that he wasn’t telling Aziraphale the whole truth. 

Which was insane and irrational. Crowley was right and it was a big step to take and the last time they came close he freaked out. The walk passed quickly in his head and soon enough he was at the bottom of the steps to his house. As he made his way up, along the path as their driveway, something caught his eye. He counted quickly, and soon realised that a car he didn’t recognise was in the driveway. His hand shook slightly, his key missing the hole several times before he slid it in and unlocked his front door.

“I’m home!” He said, dumping his bag by his shoes that he was taking off. Unlike usual, his mother came down the long hallway that led to the living room and not the kitchen, a comfortable laugh etched on her face as she looked at whoever was inside. Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows as his mother came closer to him and pulled him into a hug. 

“Hello, dearest! How was Newton and the studying?” She asked and for a moment his brain short circuited at the sight of her being so comfortable in her own home and as to why she was asking about Newton when he hadn’t talked to him since New Years before realising that’s who he was supposed to have been with all day.

“Fine. He’s good. Who's car is that-“ He began to ask but was cut off by his mother pulling him further down the corridor, too excited to notice he still had his coat on.

“Oh Aziraphale, we have the most wonderful surprise!” 

“Who-“ He started but his mother had pulled him into the living room. His parents had lit their fireplace, a soft glow being radiated onto the floor. His father’s laugh slithered in the air, and made Aziraphale as uncomfortable as a smile with too many teeth - nothing inherently wrong but made a sense of unease creep in. And there, stood in the living room was -

“Gabriel?!” At the sound of his own name, his brother turned around, an obnoxious grin on his face.

“Azzy! I was wondering when I was gonna see you. Come here!” For the second time that evening, Aziraphale was pulled into a hug and he was met with his brother’s firm chest.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, although the words were muffled as he spoke into his shirt. Thankfully, he pulled him off just before his air supply had run out.

“What? Can’t a man surprise his own family?” He looked around for approval. His mother certainly had it, as she caressed his arm, smoothing out any creases and his father stood up from his arm chair and slapped him on the back.

“And what a surprise it is! The best of my children is home!” All Aziraphale could do was stare into space, his annoyance only visible by his pursed lips. He internally rolled his eyes, despite their secrets, his father had never been a subtle man. “Come. Come it is time for dinner,” He said, his arm around Gabriel’s shoulders as he led him out the room into the hallway. His mother followed them and then turned around to look at him, who was frozen in the spot.

“Isn’t this incredible? Your brother is so wonderful, isn’t he?” All he could do was nodded, reminding himself that lying is a sin and to dishonour your parents is against the Ten Commandments. His mother tilted her head, as the smile she had in her face shifted into the one she had reserved only for him. She cupped his face gently, which lifted his gaze upwards towards her. “Just because your brother is wonderful doesn’t make you any less special. You’ll always be my miracle,” She kissed the top of his head and as much as he wanted to hold a grudge towards his parents for their favouritism, he felt that frustration descend. Not gone but lurking in a corner quietly for now.

“Go get changed, dearest,”

He removed his clothes, definitely not stopping to smell them to see if they held Crowley’s scent - they did and he didn’t smile as he didn’t stop to smell them in the first place - and headed downstairs. His father had already poured him and Gabriel’s cup with wine, his own remaining bone dry despite the fact he could drink with them. Her mother lifted her head to meet his gaze as she placed the food on the table.

He sat down silently next to Gabriel, who had taken his seat next to the head of the table, his father’s seat. His father tipped, actually tipped, his head back in laughter, something no one other than his precious son could do. Gabriel preened, clearly knowing about his special talent and the control he had over his father. He would whisper quietly that he wanted the winds to blow in the opposite direction and his father would do nothing short of becoming God Himself to make it happen.

Soon enough, his mother handed him his plate and they began to eat, his father and Gabriel continuing to speak like he and his mother weren’t there. When they reached a point where their conversation naturally died down, Aziraphale cleared his throat and turned to Gabriel. 

“How long are you staying?” He asked. Gabriel gave an uncomfortable chuckle, swelling the food in his mouth before responding.

“Two weeks. It’s half term next week, isn’t it?” Aziraphale just nodded, trying his hardest for his face to remain passive, but the prospect of the future was bleak. Gabriel being overbearing and obnoxious for two weeks, which meant he probably couldn’t see Crowley during the half considering Gabriel was the one to tell his father that they were friends or at least talked to each other. It meant his father would constantly be calling for planned family outings to show off his favourite son, which meant he’d be paraded around town while Crowley was on the opposite side of the world. He tried to remain passive, but Gabriel had a knack for being able to sense emotions Aziraphale didn’t want to talk about.

“Why do you want to know? Do you want to get rid of me that quickly?” Aziraphale shot his head up to look at his brother, sending a panicked look to his father who had lifted his head from his plate at the sound of someone annoying Gabriel.

“No I-“ He tried to say but was cut off by Gabriel’s hearty laugh as he pushed his shoulder.

“I’m just kidding. If I was doing my A-levels, I wouldn’t want anything distracting me during half term when I’d be trying to revise,” Aziraphale relaxed a little, trouble leaving for now but he was well aware it was waiting around the corner. Confusion creased his eyebrows 

“I’m not doing my A-levels after half term,” Gabriel matched his confusion before the realisation hit and he laughed again at his mistake.

“Oh, of course not! I forgot that most people do their A-levels in June. Y’know, since I did mine early,” Gabriel spoke to his father, but gave Aziraphale a smug look, the look that reminded him he was better. Aziraphale couldn’t help the eye roll, the jealousy towards his brother growing the more he bragged. 

“Yes, I know,” He muttered to his spoon as he finished his plate. His father placed his head atop his interlocked hands, his head tilted, analysing his behaviour.

“Is everything alright, Aziraphale?” He rumbled quietly. His mother and brother looked at him with wide eyes, awaiting his response tensely. Aziraphale kicked his lips, feeling very similar to a mouse surrounded by lions.

“Yes, I just-“

“Need I remind you that envy is a deadly sin?” He warned, the threat of a physical reminder evident in his voice. Despite how much he wanted to fight, to yell, he’ll, even to run, he had no power here, and even the mouse realised when the trap got set off.

“No, father,” He said defeatedly. His father seemed to recoil back, proud of how quickly he fell into line, how a single sentence was able to bend him back into a box too small for him to breathe.

“Dad, it’s alright. I guess if I had to hear about it a lot I’d get sick of it too,” He said while chuckling nervously. Aziraphale lifted his head up in a mixture of surprise, shock and confusion. Was Gabriel being… humble ? Like, was he actually alluding to the fact he knew the universe didn’t revolve around himself and that other people had emotion? “But you should be getting uni responses right about now right?” He asked Aziraphale and he had to physically shake himself out of the trance to acknowledge the words.

“Yes,”

Gabriel jutted his head further, encouraging him to continue “Well?”

“I applied for a few around the country, London mainly but Oxford was my first choice and I got a conditional offer. I’m waitlisted until my results come in,” Aziraphale said. For once, he felt a sense of pride next to his brother. Oxford wasn’t an easy school to get in, and the fact they even were considering it was a huge achievement. He had gotten the letter around Christmas time, and his mother had been ecstatic. Father gave him a small nod of approval, but what he really craved was to call Crowley and tell him the good news, except they weren’t talking at that point. He awaited Gabriel’s response anxiously, maybe now he could recognise him as an equal, or at least someone on the same playing field. Maybe now he would stop being so smug and obnoxious about being better than him and finally he could-

Gabriel scoffed, a pitiful smirk in his face as he took a bite out of his dinner. Whatever confidence Aziraphale had it disintegrated with a second and he felt that anger he had so carefully subsided swell his heart

“What, what is it?” He asked bluntly, his voice laced with an anger that was bone-deep. Gabriel's mask or arrogance dropped, and for a moment, his face was put on a look of surprise before he recovered quickly. 

“Nothing,” He went back to his plate and Aziraphale’s jaw tightened. 

“Say it,” He pushed out. Gabriel gave him a look, then to his father, who was watching the encounter with an unidentified emotion. He sighed, dropping his cutlery on his plate and crossing his arms before submitting to Aziraphale’s command 

“It’s just… isn’t it a bit close to home?” He didn’t quite see white, but he came close. He closed is fist, bunching up his trouser leg in his hand

“Excuse me?” He managed to whisper out, trying his hardest to not lean over and throttle him in front of his parents. He didn’t think that killing his father’s favourite son in front of him would go down very well. Despite being overwhelmed with wrath, Gabriel didn’t notice and kept talking, his voice now sounding more American than British that betrayed where he had spent the last few months.

“I mean, look around! The reason why it’s just you for these short holidays is because everyone is gone. We all went to universities in different countries. Most of us went to Ivy Leagues in the US,” He explained, emphasising the pronoun, which widened the bridge between him and his siblings. It seemed they were always strolling along in life and he was sprinting to catch up.

“I applied to all Russell group, which is the same thing just here in England,” He responded, hating how his high pitched voice betrayed his frustration.

“I know. It’s just… kinda funny baby Aziraphale still doesn’t want to leave home even when he’s 18,” Gabriel said, the laugh being trickled out as if he had been holding it in the second the news was shared. Aziraphale turned to face his father, exasperation evident on his face.

“Dad!” He all but shouted. Their father, who had been watching silently up until this point, placed his knife and fork on his plate and dapped a tissue on his mouth. Both siblings watched with tense eyes as he leaned back in his chair with his hands folded in front of him.

“He’s right. All your other siblings went to school somewhere else,” He said with a shrug, as if he was telling him the sky was blue. He couldn’t help the ways his eyes widened in shock and his heart swelled with wrath as his brain made the realisation that had been lingering in his mind for all his life click. 

No matter how hard he tried to gain approval from his family, he was always going to be last. He could get the top grades, go to the best university, hell, create world peace but his father or any of his siblings would always be quick to knock him down. They wouldn’t hesitate to point out that someone got the grades easier. They wouldn’t stop themselves as they told him that there were better universities. He was certain that they wouldn’t even blink an eye at him establishing world peace because someone already did it or did it better.

In a moment of confidence, or foolishness, he replied quickly. “Samuel didn’t,” He wanted them to feel as awful as they made him feel. He wanted them to feel small and pathetic for trying their best. The background chatter of cutlery on plates froze as three pairs of eyes honed in on him.

“Excuse me?” His father growled, honest to God, growled. Suddenly, the instinctual prey-like fear he often felt in his home returned, and he was left facing the consequences of his words like a rabbit in the mouth of the wolf.

“He graduated from Cambridge. For Law and Criminology,” Aziraphale’s voice trailed off due the the murderous look in his father’s eye. He had seen it on the Instagram profile, as he had become obsessed with finding out anything he could on his eldest sibling. He followed the breadcrumbs of her life, inhaling each one as if he was a starving man. He had a window into the life of someone he thought he’d never speak or see again

He found out he- she had an apartment above a luxurious club, that she may or may not own. He found out she was a detective, which is where she met her fiancé. He found out about her close group of friends, which mainly consisted of a dark man who she often called her brother (it hurt a bit but Aziraphale could see her point of view) and his partner, which happened to be his therapist, her wife’s ex (bit strange), her ex ( a lovely woman named Eve who was the exact image of the first woman that Aziraphale thought of when he read Genesis) and her polar opposite (aka, a woman who could pass as a torturer based on her dark features and clothing).  

It gave him hope. Hope of a future where he would constantly be worried about his father’s reaction. A future with a certain red head who he’d never allowed himself to dream of. He may have been looking through her window, but it led the way to his door out. He had spent many nights wondering if he should reach out. Paragraphs of jumbled jargon and hysterical nonsense written and deleted simultaneously. It was a bridge he had yet to cross, a bridge that would burn behind him if he took the next step.

But that wasn’t what he was thinking about right now.

He was thinking about what his words meant for him now. He expected yelling. He expected screaming and punches and bruises. He didn’t expect his father to barely move from where he was sitting to spit out an almost inaudible whispered threat.

“He’s no longer part of this family and you know it. You will mention him no more or I might start to think that you believe that he deserves our sympathy for giving into his pervertedness,” His father leaned forward, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table. “Do you understand?”

“Yes sir. Sorry sir,” His father’s face had gone red but he couldn’t lift his head to look him in the eye. The air was stiff as no Prince made a move, as if they were suffocating in tension. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Aziraphale went to grab more food from the plate in the centre of the table. 

“Another plate? Really Azzy? Don’t you think you’ve eaten enough?” Aziraphale dropped his fork at Gabriel’s words. He turned to him slowly, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and frustration.

“There was barely anything on my plate,” He sighed out, as if his mental exhaustion had finally caught up to him.

“Sure but there’s a reason you still haven’t lost the gut,” And then he grabbed it, actually grabbed his stomach, and Aziraphale physically recoiled backwards away from him. And Gabriel had the audacity to laugh, laugh at him, in his face as if he’d done nothing wrong. His parents did nothing, they just sat there and continued eating. Aziraphale felt sick, the bile in his throat burning the back of his mouth and he tried as hard as he could not to let tears form in his eyes. He threw his cutlery down on his plate, making the awful porcelain-on-porcelain sound that pulled everyone from their meals.

“You know what, I’ve-I’ve lost my appetite,” He stood up, grabbing his plate as he headed out the door.

“Aziraphale, there’s no need to be dramatic,” Aziraphale stopped at the doorway at his father’s words. Dramatic? He was being dramatic for not wanting to be touched and grabbed and insulted in his own home? His jaw tightened as the sense of injustice and indignation filled him to the brim.

“I know, I’m just saying I really am not that hungry. I’m actually just a bit tired so I’m gonna have an early night,” He managed to punch out with an iron control, afraid that his anger may take over and make him say something he’ll regret. He stormed out, pointedly ignoring the sound of his name as his parents called after him.

He all but threw his plate into the sink and he gripped the edge, leaning over it as the acidic taste of bile and vomit burned the back of the throat. He panted erratically, squeezing his eyes shut as he pressed his palms against them, relishing in the painful pressure as it grounded him and calmed him down slightly. He took a deep breath in, wiping the tears that had managed to form despite his stubbornness, and tried his hardest to calm down.

It was then that he finally felt something in his pocket and realised it was his phone that he never took out his pocket. Instinctively, he opened it and was met with his wallpaper, which had changed from the original one Crowley had set up back in September to a picture of them two on the ferris wheel from back in November. He still remembered how Crowley teased him when he asked him how to change the phone wallscreen and he found out Aziraphale had kept the silly pictures of him, despite the fact they were ‘hereditary enemies’. He smiled softly at the memory and he opened the messaging app they used.

You: Hey.
Dearest ♥️: hey u alr ???
You:Yes dearest. I’m fine.
Dearest ♥️: okay good. y u texting?
You: So fun fact, my brother decided to surprise visit us .
Dearest ♥️: gabriel’s here??!!
You: Yep. For two weeks. 
Dearest ♥️: 2 weeks! Wtf is he doing here?????
You: He just wanted to visit our family. Father, mainly, and annoy me by being Mr Perfect all the time.
Dearest ♥️: damn. ik ur the religious one but im praying for u 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼
You: Thank you, dearest.
Dearest ♥️: Np. he say something stupid yet?
You: Nothing I haven’t heard before.

“What are you doing?”

“Gabriel!” Aziraphale spun around at the sound of his voice, his eyes wide with panic. Gabriel stood at the entrance of the kitchen, his face scrunched up in confusion. Aziraphale’s heart picked up as panic took over him. Did he see the phone? What did he see? How the hell is he going to get out of this situation with the phone being discovered?

“Well?” Gabriel asked again when his first question was met with silence. That’s when Aziraphale realised he had been standing wide-eyed and silent. He cleared his throat, his other hand having an iron grip on the phone behind his back, his whole attention being focused on keeping it out of sight.

“Just-just washing the dishes. The dish-MY dish, I mean. What… what are you doing?” He said, stumbling over his words as Gabriel looked more and more suspicious.

“Just wondering if you’ll wash mine since I’m finished and you’re doing yours,” He asked precariously, his head tilting to the side, to analyse him from a different angle. Aziraphale gulped, feeling his hand wet his phone from the profuse amount of sweat he was producing.

“Yeah-yeah I can do that,” Gabriel nodded and took around half a step before Azirapahle raised his free arm to stop him in his tracks. If he came closer, he could see his phone, and then he’ll tell their father “Don’t! I’ll come to you,” He said as casually as he could. Carefully and slowly, he took big steps towards his brother, who continued watching him as if he was some strange creature he’d never seen before. He grabbed the plate, praying to the Lord that his sweaty hands would not drop the phone, but realised his mistake. He couldn’t turn around and walk back, as Gabiel would just see the phone he was trying so hard to hide.

So, as naturally as he could, he took big steps back, all while facing Gabriel, who was growing more concerned than suspicious. He blindly tried placing the dish into the sink, giving his best innocent smile when it landed. He gave a nervous chuckle as Gabriel did not move from where he was standing but instead crossed his arms and began interrogating him.

“Why are acting weird?”

“I’m not acting weird. You’re acting weird,” He answered too quickly, which only spurred Gabriel's suspicions.

“What are you hiding behind your back?” He asked slowly and deliberately. Aziraphale’s eyes widened, his heart racing but tried to remain as neutral as possible. Oh no .

“Nothing,” He said whilst shrugging, averting his eyes to the patterned tiles of the floor. Gabriel didn’t let up, only narrowing his eyes as he pressed deeper.

“It’s clearly something. What is it?”

“It’s really nothing, now-” 

Buzz

His phone buzzed. His phone had buzzed. It never buzzed, because it was always on Do Not Disturb, but this time, this one time, it wasn’t and it buzzed . His phone buzzed and there was no way in hell Gabriel didn’t hear it because his eyes grew wide in recognition of the sound. His body language opened as the realisation and answers to his questions clicked in his mind. Aziraphale was already shaking his head before Gabriel had the time to ask his next question.

“Was that a phone?”

“No,” He all but screamed at him.

“I swear I heard the buzz of a phone,”

“I…” Aziraphale was frozen in the spot as his blood ran cold. His breathing became erratic again. He had no way out, there was no way he could actually explain what that sound was without exposing himself and-

There!

There, sitting on the counter like a gift from god, was Gabriel’s phone. It was at that moment when he believed in God once more because this was nothing short of a miracle. His whole body relaxed as he reached over and grabbed it. “...It was yours! Your phone buzzed here it is! Haha just your phone buzzing,” He laughed maniacally, as relief and his adrenaline came crashing down. 

“Are you going to be weird again and stop me from coming to you?”

“No?” He said, coming out like more of a question than he intended. Gabriel slowly approached him so he stood directly above him. Aziraphale gulped, handing over the phone, trying his best to look relatively normal. Gabriel looked in his eyes for more time than normal, and every second that passed that he didn’t move away, Aziraphale’s heart was bursting out of his chest and his grip on his phone behind his back grew increasingly tighter.

Finally, finally , after what seemed like a millenia or 6 had passed, Gabriel walked away, his eyes never leaving him but the distance grew wider, which shook a sigh of relief from Aziraphale.

“Thanks for washing my plate, Azzy,”

“Your welcome,” He said with a tight smile, refusing to let the nickname get to him just when Gabriel was leaving

“And good job on restraining yourself in. You keep this up and you’ll look like me in no time,”

“Okay,” He muttered out, raising both eyebrows quickly as that sense of frustration and disgust towards Gabriel’s words about his weight came back.

“And who knows, maybe this way Margaret won’t be so uncomfortable on the wedding night when you-”

“Alright, thank you Gabriel. Goodbye now!” He spoke uncomfortably, cutting off whatever weird and creepy thing he was going to say. Gabriel gave him one last look before he finally turned around and left the kitchen.

Aziraphale collapsed against the kitchen counter tops, as a deep groan of relief wrecked his body. That was close- too close. That would never have happened if he took his phone out and left it in his room like always. This would never have happened if he hadn’t taken it out in the bloody kitchen. He was growing too complacent; he was forgetting that his home wasn’t safe and the only way to survive this house was to be extremely careful, something he was slowly forgetting the more time he spent outside acting like someone his age should.

One thing was for certain: he was going to have to be ten times more vigilant and careful than he was being.

Chapter Text

It had been a couple of hours since Aziraphale had retired upstairs, his conversation with Gabriel still replaying in his mind with the same effect happening every time his brain played Gabriel’s voice. His heart, despite the lack of possibility of his ‘sins’ being discovered, picked up at the phantom danger. The night was silent, the howling wind moving past his window as his eyes strained to read the words on the page illuminated by the dim light of his lamp. As the minutes ticked by where none of his family came to check up on him, Aziraphale was simultaneously hurt and grateful that his father decided to spare him for tonight’s words. Sure, it hurt a bit that no one, including his mother, saw how Gabriel’s words affected him and no one bothered to check if he was alright, he was also thankful that his night was quiet and didn’t involve the first aid kit he had hidden in his room. How could he be so stupid and bring up Lucy at dinner? It was a one way ticket to a visit to his father’s study, and yet he had been saved, as if he had been saved by an ineffable hand of God.

He still couldn't believe his insane luck at Gabriel's phone coincidently being left on the counter beforehand. He hadn’t thought about God, at least not purposefully, in a while and he couldn’t help the way a smile grew every time he thought about the miracle, as it couldn’t be anything else. He was reading Crowley’s gift, his fingers facing the indent the pen made on the page. He chuckled lightly at one annotation in particular, imaging Crowley hunched over in the middle of the night scribbling down something he thought would make Aziraphale laugh.

He had his phone laying next to him, a feeling in his gut telling him to keep it on instead of shutting it down and shoving it in the deepest darkest corner of his drawer like usual. As time passed, Aziraphale approached the end of the book and suddenly Crowley’s annotations dropped off. A bitter taste was left in his mouth, as it was a reminder of a dark time. A time where he had said something awful to the one person he let himself be free around. A time where it seemed like Aziraphale was going to be trapped in this house forever, as his one window of freedom closed itself on him.

Aziraphale had to remind himself that they had made up now and that Crowley was no longer mad at him and they were closer than ever. He shut the book rather forcefully, as if it would stop the bad thoughts and through some weird placebo effect, it seemed to work as he felt himself calm down. Just when he had stopped his mind flying away from him, he felt his phone buzz beside him and realised that Crowley was calling him. He picked it up, pressing the phone up to his ear and speaking as quietly as he could. Although it was late and he was certain no one was up, he didn’t want to risk being heard as it would end in nothing short of catastrophe.

“Hello?” He said.

“Hey, angel. How you holding up?” Crowley’s voice came from the other side. Despite the fact that the memory of this evening that was burnt into his mind made him feel awful, he couldn’t help feel immediately better. He found that Crowley had that effect on him, by just speaking to him, it can make Aziraphale forget anything bad that ever happened to him.

“I’m fine, good. Why are you calling?”

“I was worried. You kinda stopped talking and didn’t respond to my last message,” There was a pause, and Aziraphale could hear Crowley breathe heavily down the line, as if he was toying with what to say next. “I thought something bad had happened,” He said quietly and Aziraphale’s eyebrows shot up with shock and something similar to affection. He was still surprised and baffled whenever Crowley showed him any kind of affection and respect, so used to not feeling it in his own home, and it made a warm fuzzy feeling spread across him that created a foolish grin on his face.

“Oh,”

“Did something bad happen?” He asked quickly, and he vaguely heard the sound of his sheets and blankets moving, indicating he had sat up in his bed and made Aziraphale realise how concerned he was.

“No. I’m sorry, no, nothing happened,” He said, trying his hardest not to let his voice betray anything away. A beat passed, and Aziraphale could almost picture the way Crowley’s eyes would narrow in suspicion at his words. Aziraphale flicked his eyes nervously around his room, as if Crowley was standing right in front of him and interrogating him

“I think you're lying to me,” Came his reply bluntly. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, raising his arm and making it fall with a soft thump in annoyance.

“I’m not!” He said and almost immediately he could hear, yes hear, Crowley’s eyebrow arch in suspicion. He sighed in defeat, the words getting stuck in his throat already “Alright, it's nothing bad but… Gabriel may have walked in on my using the phone,”

“He what!” He yelled into the microphone, making Aziraphale cringe and squeeze his eyes in embarrassment.

“Yeah,”

“Well, d-did he see? Did he tell your father?” He stuttered out rapidly, tripping over his words with panic and concern.

“No, thankfully he didn't see anything, but I think he knew I was hiding something because I was acting weird,”

“What the hell was he doing barging into your room like that?” Came Crowley’s outraged reply. Aziraphale cringed slightly, his eyes closing shut as the words seemed to refuse to leave his mouth.

“Actually, I may have been using it in the kitchen,”

“Why were you using your phone in the kitchen? That was dangerous!”

“I know! I know it was! It’s just…. I needed to talk to someone that wasn’t my family,” He said, looking down at his ring and picturing the same one on Crowley’s hand and he managed to produce a subtle smile with the picture.

“I’m flattered that you simply couldn't wait to talk to me again,” Crowley said with a smirk, which Aziraphale could hear because his face blushed with an ease that was almost embarrassing.

“Yeah, well, considering what Gabriel said, I guess I needed to talk to someone on my side,” Aziraphale’s words trailed off as his brain unhelpfully betrayed him back to earlier this evening, how his face flushed with both embarrassment and anger, how powerless and pathetic he felt compared to Gabriel.

“What did he say?” Crowley asked, breaking him from his downward spiral and making him realise he was still on the phone with him.

“What?”

“Gabriel. What did he say that made you want to ‘speak with someone on your side’ so badly?” He could hear how tense Crowley had become at the mention of his brother and the possible problems at home, and despite the fact that the only reason he was talking to Crowley was to talk about what happened this evening, he felt that sense of shame and fear his father had so meticulously drilled into him to ensure he doesn’t rebel and tell people about what happens behind the doors of the Prince residence. Aziraphale gulped, his anxiety blocking the words from leaving his mouth, just like his father had taught him.

“Oh just the usual stuff. Nothing you need to concern yourself about,” He replied quickly, but he knew it wouldn’t deter Crowley as almost immediately, Crowley pushed further.

“Angel, I want to know,” He said, his tone fixed and serious and Aziraphale knew the only way forward was to tell him everything. He took a deep breath, having to remind himself that Crowley wouldn’t be mad at him for what happened.

“Well it’s nothing but… it started of with him being obnoxious and a pompous arse as he always is,”

“Like?” Crowley pushed again. Aziraphale forced himself to relax and he answered Crowley’s question as calmly as he could, already feeling that feeling of helplessness wash over him once again.

“Like saying that the universities I applied to weren’t good enough or prestigious enough,” He admitted, his voice quiet and soft.

“He what?” Crowley asked in disbelief, his voice dangerously low which made Aziraphale gulp slightly in both fear and something else as his brain uncooperatively connected the dots that that’s what he sounded like after a particular heavy make out session, that didn’t fit the mood of this conversation at all.

“He insinuated that because all my other siblings left the country to continue their studies, I was being a baby for wanting to get to Oxford,”

Is he alright in the head? What sort of dickhead thinks bloody Oxford isn’t good enough? Angel, the fact they put you on their waitlist says a lot about how brilliant you are. It's not everybody that can get into Oxbridge,” Crowley barked out, his annoyance towards Aziraphale’s family only growing the more anecdotes Aziraphale shared.

“Thank you, my dear,”

“What else?” Crowley asked and Aziraphale froze. He could detail what happened next, but the memory was new, too fresh for him to explain without feeling as sick as he did. He shook his head defiantly, even though Crowley wouldn’t be able to see.

“Nothing. That was it,” He said courtly, praying that Cowley would believe him.

“Angel, I know you're lying ‘cus you've only started doing it last year and you're horrid at it,” He retorted, killing Aziraphale’s hope. He sighed again, his hand dragging across his face as the memory created a weight on his chest. A weight that paralysed him and made his blood run cold.

“He may have made a comment on… me,” Aziraphale sputtered, his eyes shut as if he was in pain.

“You?” He replied confused.

“My, erm. My weight,” He finally said. There was pause from the opposite side of the phone

“What did he do?” He growled, making Aziraphale’s heart race and his face feel warm with the attention

“He… it's silly really. Nothing I haven’t-”

“What did he say, Aziraphale?” Crowley cut him off, not wanting to hear Aziraphale’s excuse for his family’s behaviour. The many years of abuse and constant belittling made him the perfect punching bag, no longer having the fight in him to speak up against what was happening. It was only until Crowley, who refused to take advantage of his little confidence, that Aziraphale had become more brazen. Now, the cuts and bruises were no longer a reminder for him to stay meek and docile, but a reminder of why his family didn’t deserve his respect.

“I… I went for a second helping and he said that that was the reason I still haven't lost the gut,” He blustered out, unable to stop the way his eyes stung at the memory. He hadn’t been lying when he said he was used to it but it was only now when someone offered him a different perspective that it began to affect him more than it used to.

“Excuse me?” He could hear Crowley sit straighter up in his bed, and could feel the anger radiating through the phone. He could picture how his fist would be clenched dangerously hard around his phone as his jaw locked.

“Yeah and he…” He trailed off, unable to think about it.

“He what?” He didn’t respond to his question. His mind wandered, unable to confront what had happened. “Aziraphale tell me now or I swear to somebody-“

“He grabbed my stomach,” He shouted. It shut Crowley up, because he went dangerously quiet. There was an unbearable pause, where Aziraphale anxiously awaited his response and Crowley stayed silent.

It got too much, when 30 seconds had passed and there was no response from the other boy. “Crowley?” He uttered with trepidation into the silence.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Finally came Crowley’s response, his words cutting through the once silent call like a knife

“You can't kill my brother!” Aziraphale said exasperated, his eyes rolling at Crowley’s words.

“Yes I can and I will. How fucking dare he touch you like that?!” He shouted and despite himself, he flinched at the volume. He calmed down, unwilling to let his emotions get the better part of him.

“It's honestly nothing I haven’t experienced before. He’s always made me feel insecure about it and-”

“He’s a cunt. Do you know that?” Aziraphale’s eyes shot open at Crowley’s vulgarity. He straightened up, looking around the room as if it was possible for Gabriel to hear Crowley’s words when it was in the middle of the night and on the opposite side of the house.

“Crowley!” He whispered in disbelief, his mouth hanging slightly open.

“He’s a cunt who can’t see how fucking amazing and brilliant and awesome you are. He’s a dickhead, don’t listen to him,” He said breathlessly, his wrath and injustice influencing the bite to his words.

“I know I shouldn’t. It’s just… hard. Especially around you,” He muttered the last part softly, not wanting Crowley to hear, but his voice responded as soon as he had finished speaking.

“What?” 

Aziraphale felt a flutter of annoyance rise up in his chest as he looked around the room in irritation. “Oh come on Crowley. We both know how I must look compared to you. It’s as if you’ve got a whale following you around,”

“Don’t say that,”

“It’s true and you know it,”

“Aziraphale. Do you really think your size matters to me? You’re an idiot if you are even thinking of saying yes,” He had heard this many times before, but unlearning his family’s views was hard, especially since it sat around him like a plague. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost didn’t catch Crowley’s follow up sentence “It’s actually one of the reasons why I wanted to call,”

“Oh?” Aziraphale said tentatively, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“About today. When I pushed you away,” Hurtcame easily and his curiosity was replaced with a bitterness that left a sour taste in Aziraphale’s mouth. He gulped it down, unsure how to approach the situation.

“Yes?” Aziraphale responded, regretting the unintentional bite as Crowley paused for a second and he was about to apologise when he began speaking again.

“I need you to know it has absolutely nothing to do with the way you look. Trust me,” He added and Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel the deep sigh wreck his body. He dragged his other hand across his face again, refusing to feel bad about the memory again.

“I know that. It’s only that sometimes my brain is unhelpful,” He replied quietly, playing with a loose thread on his blanket.

“Angel, you have no fucking idea what you do to me. It’s like staring at god or something similar. Youre fucking breathtaking and the fact you dont know makes you ten times hotter,” Crowley’s voice had changed. It had an atmosphere of something that wasn’t reading as comforting. It was a heavy atmosphere that Aziraphale only felt when he felt his control slip when he was in Crowley’s arms. It caught his attention, as his head snapped up from where he was spacing out.

“Oh?” He said. He heard Crowley hum in agreement and he listened carefully, searching for any clues about how the other was feeling.

“I swear, I get so hard just looking at you. Like that time on Halloween, when you were wearing eyeliner and looking up at me with your blue eyes, fuck angel I wanted to push you against my bed and shag you so hard,” He was breathless when he finished. His voice hitched in a way that made something awake below Aziraphale trousers.

“Crowley-“ Crowley ignored his interruption, speaking with an urgency of a desperate man.

“Or the noises you make whenever you eat something. It fucking orgasmic, you’re like walking porn to me,” Crowley groaned, and his noises of need went straight to Aziraphale crotch. The vulgarity and suddenness of his confession did nothing to help the growing blush spreading across his cheeks and how his entire body felt like it was on fire with something carnal he had spent the last few months precariously repressing.

“You can't say things like that,” His voice trembled quietly, his mind already producing that sense of shame whenever his body craved Crowley like he was a drug.

“What? I can't say that you've absolutely ruined me before you've even taken my clothes off? I can't say that you've ruined porn for me because nothing compares to you in my mind. You have been the leading actor everytime my hand has wandered downwards, do you know that?” Crowley said, his words tipping into moans of pleasure that almost managed to guide his hands downwards like a saving light.

“Crowley!” He reprimanded as he wasn’t used to hearing these things so openly. Not from his family, who regarded sex like it was only a serious obligation to fufill, not from his pears considering he didn’t really talk to many of them and certainly not Crowley, who always respected him and his boundaries. He wasn’t used to this, but Crowley seemed experienced in this area and he felt like he was severely lacking.

But what really troubled his mind was that Crowley was getting… excited  because of him. He was like this because of Aziraphale Prince, the chubby Christian kid who prefers words to people. And in Aziraphale’s mind, he just couldn’t figure out why. Why anyone like Crowley would even offer him a second glance. It felt like a trick, one big ‘gotcha!’ from the universe and the Lord. He had never thought, in a million years that someone would actually like him, despite his troubles and appearance.

“Fuck I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” Crowley, the Crowley he knew, the one who carefully stretched Aziraphale’s boundaries but never overstepped, was back, breaking Aziraphale from his trance.

“What!?” 

“No I meant- ugh Jesus Christ,” There was a pause, where he heard Crowley sigh deeply. He didn’t dare move, as if any sudden changes would scare Crowley, which was ridiculous, considering he couldn’t even see Aziraphale. “I know sex makes you a bit uncomfortable and you're not ready so I shouldn't have said that. But it's true, the message is something I believe,” Aziraphale could scarcely believe it when his mind conjugated up the message, but for Crowley to say it seemed impossible. He felt his throat close up and he half wanted to just say goodbye and they could forget that this happened and then they’ll see each other Monday morning and everything would be fine.

But.

Didn’t he want to stop his mind from impeding him from doing something he wanted? He no longer wanted that boy, the boy always stopped at the first sign of the unknown. And what better way than doing that by finally giving in to what his body has been calling out for since September?

“I am ready, though” He said the words so quickly, he almost didn’t understand the words himself.

“Angel, we talked about this,” He said, but Aziraphale quickly spoke up again.

“I know. But isn’t this… kind of a good test run?” He said apprehensively, his voice recoiling backwards with embarrassment. 

“Excuse me?” Said Crowley, his voice the least confident he’s heard all phone call, as if he hadn’t expected this sort of reaction from him. In all honesty, Aziraphale hardly believed it himself.

“Like we aren't technically doing anything. And I liked what you said. A lot,” The last word hung between them in a way that allowed Crowley to insinuate his current predicament. Aziraphale immediately heard Crowley relax and could hear the smirk in his voice and that heavy and lustful air was back between them.

“How much, angel?” He asked slyly.

“So much I'm actually considering touching myself on the phone with my secret boyfriend,” He said, the words thrilling to hear and making his heart flutter with an excitement he’s never allowed himself to indulge in. If he thought the words alone had a thrilling effect on him, the way Crowley moaned made him feel powerful in a way that was unknown to him.

“Oh God, yes. Please please please,” He heard the distinct sound of Crowley frantically pushing blankets and sheets down and it made his heart giddy with anxiety.

“Are we actually doing this?” He asked, an adrenaline fueled laugh escaping his mouth. Crowley groaned loudly in his ear, a sound that went straight down and were making his normally very loose pajama bottoms tight. It was like a heat had gathered in the pit of his stomach, and Crowley was the gasoline dousing it.

“I don't know about you angel, but I've been hard ever since I heard your voice,” He punched out, which Aziraphale barely registered as his brain was too busy comprehending the wet noises he was making as he touched himself.

“You're clearly exaggerating,” He huffed out, his head delirious and light with giddiness.

“Maybe- ah, fuck - but I’m so fucking horny for you right now that if I stop touching myself, I’ll die,” 

“Then what are you waiting for?” He replied, mostly to himself considering he was well aware of what Crowley was doing on the other side of the phone.

He let Crowley’s moans guide his hand down as he slowly started palming himself through his trousers. The relief he felt was instant and he tipped his head back as a whiny noise left his throat. He heard Crowley do a sharp intake of air, which only made Aziraphale palm himself harder.

“Oh fuck yes. Oh shit, angel keep talking” He whined and Aziraphale finally slipped his hand under his waistband. The relief he felt was instantaneous, tipping his head back for invisible lips on his neck. He thumbed the head of his cock, and made a high-pitched keening noise which he would have been embarrassed about if he was hearing Crowley make the same noises on the other side of the phone. He was so caught up that he almost forgot to reply to Crowley.

“Wha-what do you want me to say?” He managed to say as he pulled his cock out of his boxer and started stroking it slowly. He tried focusing on his words, but his body was on fire, reacting to Crowley’s voice and his own movements, making it very hard to not stutter.

“Anything, fuck anything you want angel,” He babbled as Aziraphale panted as his hand sped up. He could picture Crowley above him, instead of on the opposite side of the town. The feeling of his own hand left and was replaced with what a slender and thinner hand as lips made a trail of bruises across his body.

“Do you want to hear what you've done to me with your wily words?” He said, biting his lip to stop it coming out as a whimper

“Yes yes yes,” 

“Hearing that, Crowley I'm pretty sure every ounce of my blood is currently fueling my… situation I have going on,”

“Oh? Do you like me praising you?” Aziraphale gave himself a harder tug, punching out a groan. His eyes lidded with lust as he pictured Crowley’s husky voice whispering praises and love in his ear.

“Yes,” He moaned as his hip bucked up into his hand. That pulled another noise from Crowley, which would live in Aziraphale mind for the rest of time.

“Do like-shit, do you like when I tell you my fantasies?”

“Yes,” He yelled, shutting his lips with velocity as he remembered he was in home, where anyone could hear him and catch him in the act. He thumbed the head again, spread the precum around, which only made his body tremble even more as he panted desperately for air, feeling it was too much but not enough.

“What do you look like right now?” Came Crowley’s voice, strained with lust. Aziraphale could imagine Crowley on his bed, furiously moving his hand up and down as it was being fueled by Aziraphale’s noises.

“I'm laying down. My hands in my boxers,”

“Jesus christ, I can picture it y’know. You, your trousers thrown off somewhere fucking your fist because of me,” At his words, he frantically pulled his trousers and pants past his knees, the cool air of his room heightening every feeling that wrecked his body.

“Crowley,” He pushed out the other boy’s name, whispering it like a secret prayer and a request that he never stops.

“Oh God, my name on your lips sound so sinful, I fucking love it,” He pictured Crowley capture his moans and prayers with his lips, and he couldn’t wait to see Crowley again now, desperate to run his hands across his body and cover his lips with his own.

“Crowley please,”

“Go faster for me angel,” He followed his demand, squeezing his eyes as his hand started moving even faster than before.

In his mind’s eye, the one that pictured Crowley above him, he would start pumping him even faster and Aziraphale tangled his hand in his fiery locks as pleasure took over his entire body. He would groan and moan over Aziraphale pulse on his neck, making him tremble beneath him.

He would wrap his legs around his slender hips, trying to pull him impossibly closer and his head would be thrown back in pleasure as he made as many noises as he wanted without the fear someone from his family would hear. 

“What would you have done? In the field today of you didn't stop,” It was some the ing that was teetering on the edge of his mind. It was fire that was being doused with gasoline the faster he moved his hand.

“I would’ve pushed you against the hood of my car. I’d finally have you squirming beneath me and you’d be making all these little noises for me as I get on my knees and suck your cock,” The picture Crowley offered snapped in his imagination and now the hand was a mouth. He could almost feel the warmth as Crowley took him in his mouth and wetted his cock. 

“Oh fuck,” Aziraphale snapped his head back fast, biting his lip to stop anymore noises come out. He hadn’t meant for the swear to come out, but pleasure had taken over and he could feel that sensation that he was close, and the fantasy of Crowley on his knees, in reverence for him and in a way that would make his family squirm, was only bringing him closer to the finish line

“Just like that and I'd squeeze out every curse and blaspheme out of you until the only name you're saying is mine,”

“Oh God. Crowley please,” He moaned in worship, to busy to feel the shame of taking the Lord’s name in this context. His hips thrusted upwards sporadically, meeting his hand to go even faster than he was going.

“Would you like that? Would you like me to take care of you?” Crowley’s was heavy and gravelly, making his legs shiver weakly. Aziraphale kept his eyes shut, desperately trying to picture Crowley was with him at this very moment.

One of his hands would rest on his thigh, keeping them open for him as Aziraphale accepted him closer. His legs fell open for an invisible body as his hips and cock searched for an invisible hand.

“Yes yes yes,” 

“You've been so good for me, angel,” The praise went straight to his cock and he could help the carnal whine of pleasure that shook his entire body. He felt that sensation of the finish grow stronger, his entire body searching for its release and as much as he wanted to drag this out, he craved his finish.

“I’m-I’m close,”

“Me -ngk me too angel,”

“Crowley. Crowley please I'm coming,”

“God yes. Go on angel, do it for me,” The words were what pushed him I’ve the edge, and his orgasm crashed over him, engulfing him like a wave. He yelled out his name, snapping his eyes wide as his body shook with ferocity and his cock squirted, painting his upper body. He gulped for breath, stroking himself through until it became uncomfortable, which is when he slowed down and slumped against his bed. 

He closed his eyes gently, catching his breath as the pleasure died down. He sunk into his pillow, only now realising Crowley was no longer groaning in his ear. He must of also finished soon after Aziraphale.“You alright?” He asked hesitantly.

Aziraphale smiled to himself, looking around lazily for something to clean himself up with. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright,”

“How do you feel?”

The question, though simple in nature, ran deep and it froze Aziraphale when the subtext hit him.Crowley knew better than everyone that this was no simple task for Aziraphale. He expected that feeling of shame and guilt to come creeping in like old friends. He had just committed the sins of onanism, in his father’s house with another man. If he had heard what he’d done a few months ago, he’d have a heart attack. He would be kneeling at the altar in church until his knees were permanently bruised.

And yet.

And yet he didn’t feel like that. He felt an odd sense of…peace? It was unlike anything he had ever experienced and he found that he didn’t feel shameful. He had no urge to pray away his sins. In fact, he had fun. A lot of fun. That realisation instantly relaxed him, making him tug his pants back on once his cum had been cleaned away.

“Just tired. I think it's time we go to bed,” He replied, and he could also feel Crowley relax as he realised no boundaries had been crossed.

“Okay. Good night, angel,” He said.

“Crowley?” He called out. He felt Crowley stop and press the phone back against his ear

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” He didn’t say why, but he got the feeling that Crowley knew exactly what he meant without having to voice it as he could hear the smile in his reply.

“You're welcome,” His voice was still hoarse, a reminder of what that had done which put a mischievous grin on Aziraphale’s face

“Good night,” He whispered.

“Good night, angel,” For a moment, Aziraphale heard Crowley breathing on the other end until eventually the line went dead. He pulled the phone back, looking at his reflection in the dark screen of his phone. He expected a change, something obvious to show what he had done, but he only saw himself staring back at him with no obvious signs something was different. 

His hair was still white and curly, his face round and soft, but something was different. His eyes had a shine that wasn’t there before. A shine that was a reflection of what he saw in his sister’s eyes whenever he found himself scrolling through her page. Happiness. True, freeing, unadulterated happiness.

He rested his phone on top of his chest, staring up into the ceiling above. And as he toyed with his ring as countless creepy angels stared into his soul, he knew he was in love.

Chapter Text

“I’m going to kill that fucker!” 

If Aziraphale thought his living situation was tense, he had clearly forgotten what it felt like with Big Brother always watching. Literally. Ever since his awkward interaction with Gabriel in the kitchen, things have been more stressful than ever. For one, Gabriel was insisting on spending all his time with his ‘little bro’, meaning he was constantly around him and unable to talk with Crowley for the entirety of the weekend.

Secondly, he now wanted- no, demanded - of bringing Aziraphale to and from school, which meant no tutoring sessions, no secret dates and no kissing.

“As much as I would discourage such fantasies, you’ve said this many times in the past week and you have yet to follow up on the sentiment,” Aziraphale responded, not bothering to lift his head up from his book as he turned the page. Crowley leaned back on his chair, an annoyed groan tipping his head back and Aziraphale refused to think of another time where Crowley was groaning in his ear.

“It’s not fair! He is intentionally ruining my education by picking you up AGAIN!” Aziraphale looked at him over his book, one eyebrow arched in amusement.

“Your education? And here I thought you were with me today because you liked me,” He said, a sly smirk resting easily on his lips . Crowley came swinging forward, stabilising his chair and making his face end up a few centimetres away from Aziraphale, his own sly grin mirroring Aziraphale’s smirk.

“Oh angel, I could very easily show just how much I like you,” He said, inching impossibly close. Aziraphale hesitated for a moment, his eyes falling to Crowley’s lips with a familiar ache in his heart as he desperately searched for the other half of his soul. And as much as he wanted, really wanted, he placed two fingers softly to the other’s lips, pushing him away.

“Not in public you can’t,”

“Which is why I’m convinced he’s the devil incarnate hell bent on cockblocking me at every turn,” He leant back again, exposing his neck to Aziraphale in a way that was totally not suggestive at all thank you very much. Aziraphale rolled his silently, returning his attention to his book, desperately trying to remember quotes for his mocks “Don’t roll your eyes at me,”

“I’ll roll my eyes because you’re being silly,” He said, turning his page and refusing to look at Crowley as startled noises came out of him.

“Me?! Silly? I’m not silly, I’m the fucking opposite of silly. I’m spooky!” Aziraphale arched his eyebrow once more, looking at the other boy with a deadpan expression.

“Spooky?”

“Big spooky guy me,” Aziraphale didn’t let up and continued to look at him the way you would a very small child. At last, Crowley crossed, turning away from him with something that most definitely wasn’t a pout as Crowleys didn’t pout. “Leave me alone,”

“I’m trying but it’s hard to. You’re very good at distracting me,” He mumbled, turning his focus back on his book for what seemed the millionth time

“Oh, I’m distracting you, am I?” Crowley leant on his forearms forward, tilting his head playful as he slowly licked his lips. Aziraphale bravely fought the distraction and wasn’t thinking about a certain image Crowley had produced his head that night.

“Yes and I would appreciate it if you could be quiet for just a few minutes,” He met his eyes confidently. Despite the fact he had his shades on, Aziraphale read him like a book as he titled his head in a similar fashion in retaliation. Crowley bit the inside of his cheek, seeing Aziraphale’s snark as if he was debating about what to do next.

Finally, relented and moved away from Aziraphale and he found himself missing his warmth due to their proximity, even though he was a few metres away “Nah that’s boring. I wanna go somewhere,”

“You can’t,” He sighed, taking note of one of the many highlighted quotes in his book.

“Yes we can. We have two frees after lunch,” 

He closed his book in frustration, realising he won’t get any work done while Crowley was in this mood. “No, you have two free periods. I have English last period,” 

“So? Skip with me,” Crowley shrugged casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Aziraphale raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner, as if asking if he really said that.

“I can’t,”

“Yes you can. How’s your attendance?” Aziraphale pursed his lips and tried avoiding Crowley’s gaze. He was too tempting for him and he knew his self respect would crumble beneath Crowley.

“I don’t know, but that’s not-“

“It’s probably still over 70%, so they won’t tell your father. Come one, let me tempt you away angel,” Aziraphale bit the inside of his cheek, his finger automatically flying to his ring to fidget nervously. His hand was covered by Crowley’s hands, which made him lift his head slowly.

“I know you want to, I can see it,” Crowley titled his head, a sly smirk on his mouth as he realised his temptations were working. Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, holding Crowley’s gaze even through the dark lenses covering them. Finally, after a long minute, he deflated, admitting his defeat.

“If I am even a minute late-“

“We’ll leave at the beginning of lunch, giving us 3 hours. You taking the temptation angel?”

Aziraphale stilled, before a smile broke through his face. “Temptation accomplished,” 

There was always an exhilarating rush whenever he and Crowley slipped through the gates of the school. The giddy laughter that escaped him whenever Crowley grabbed his hand and dragged him away, sprinting past the security and the teachers making their rounds. Crowley’s yowls of excitement, noises that translated loosely as freedom and happiness. The wind flying past his head as he stuck his head out the speeding car, some random rock band playing in the background.

As usual, they stopped by the familiar corner shop, buying themselves some food for lunch and soon enough they settled on the grass in their field overlooking their town. They ate in a mindless chatter, despite the looming clouds turning the air cold and harsh, reminding the two it was still a mid February day in England. At the sight of Aziraphale shivering, Crowley wordlessly shrugged off his coat and offered it to his angel, who took it with a warm smile that heated Crowley immediately. Their conversation lulled as Aziraphale took his sunglasses off and leaned his head on Crowley’s shoulder, huddling close for warmth, which Crowley didn’t discourage. Crowley patted his blazer pocket, where he fished out a brand new packet of cigarettes.

Aziraphale watched as the other boy shielded the lighter from the winter winds to light one “I thought you quit smoking,” Crowley returned the lighter to his pocket, giving Aziraphale a guilty side eye as he took a hit.

“This is my last pack!” He tried to excuse, but Aziraphale gave him a ‘no-bullshit’ look that demolished any excuse he had for himself. Instead, he just offered his cig to Aziraphale who looked tempted for a moment before he shook his head.

“My father might smell it on me,” Crowley nodded with a shrug as he brought it up to his mouth once more. “Besides, I hate the taste,”

“You didn’t seem to hate the taste on New Years,” Aziraphale gave him a soft push, rolling his eyes in amusement.

“That was because I was emotional and needed something to get through our conversation,” His response pulled a smirk from Crowley, who returned with his own gentle nudge to his shoulder.

“I’m only teasing, angel. You at least agree that it makes you feel nice?” He said, blowing the smoke in the opposite direction. Aziraphale shrugged, his lips wearing an easy smile. 

“I suppose,” He responded as Crowley met his eye and couldn’t help his own dopey grin growing as he looked at his angel. Crowley’s eyes darted downwards to his lips then back up, thickening the air between them

“Have you ever tried shotgunning?” He asked. Aziraphale shook his head in response.

“You know I haven't,” He said quietly, the word unfamiliar to him but the way Crowley had a glint in his eye made him shiver with an unknown excitement.

“Wanna try it?”

“I don't even know what it is, dearest,” He titled his head idly, looking at the other boy with a softness that distracted Crowley.

He gulped quietly, deciding to look away in order to form a proper sentence. “Basically, I take a hit, then blow the smoke into your mouth and then you inhale that,”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, scrunching his face in clear disdain. Crowley shook his head quickly.

“No, it's good. Come here,” Hesitantly, Aziraphale shuffled closer, until they were close enough to breathe in the same air “Open,” Aziraphale did as he was told. Crowley brought the cigarette to his lips, letting the nicotine burn his throat before blowing into Aziraphale’s open mouth. Instinctively, Aziraphale trapped the smoke in and froze, looking up into Crowley’s eyes with wide-eyes

“Inhale angel,” He followed his orders and soon enough he was blowing out the smoke. There was a beat where neither of them spoke, trapped in the other person’s gaze. Crowley gulped again, as Aziraphale’s eyes hooded half closed. “Just wanted to try it, we don't need to-“

Except he was allowed to finish his sentence before Aziraphale interrupted “Again,” His voice was gruff and husky, as if it was raw with use. A grin shot through Crowley’s face as he smugly took another hit and blew it into his face. 

Aziraphale didn’t bother inhaling it before blowing it back out and crashing their lips together, throwing his arms around Crowley’s shoulders. Crowley smiled into the kiss as his free hand flew to Aziraphale’s waist, tugging him impossibly closer to him than he already was. 

One of Aziraphale’s hands trickled from the back of his head to cradle his jaw, tilting it down to get a more comfortable angle. They slotted their lips together and Aziraphale pushed further so Crowley was cradling his face in a similar fashion, carefully holding the cigarette away from his face.

Aziraphale, his eyes still shut and lips still moving in sync with Crowley’s, blindly grabbed the cigarette and stubbed it out on the ground.

“Oi! I wasn’t finished with that,” Crowley proclaimed, looking briefly at what was left of his now bent and mostly ash cigarette. He didn’t have a lot of time to mourn as Aziraphale’s lips were back against his in a moment.

“I am,” He said, his voice down the octave that sent funny impulses down his body and to his groin.

Crowley grinned like a maniac into the kiss, trying desperately to breathe between gasps of air, until finally, he pushed Aziraphale over so he was trapped beneath him“Oh, I see what this is. It's all a plot to get me to kiss you,” 

“Yes, yes it is. Now if you could be obliged,” Aziraphale grabbed his face again, pointedly ignoring the chuckle and the definite murmur of ‘cheeky’ and brought Crowley closer to him.

Aziraphale held on to his face for dear life as Crowley’s hands started wandering up his thighs, getting dangerously close to the growing bulge in his trousers. He moaned quietly into the kiss, which soured Crowley’s advances like kerosene does to fire.

He frantically untucked Crowley’s shirt, desperately searching for skin. It felt like his hand was on fire as he traced invisible circles with his thumb as he gripped his side. Crowley pulled away, and Aziraphale missed with a great ache the constant pressure of his lips

“I think its raining,” He hadn’t noticed it, as he was otherwise occupied, but he realised small droplets were sporadically falling from the darkening clouds

“We're English, Crowley. When has a little rain ever stopped us?” Crowley shrugged with agreement, looking back down to his face, a mischievous grin gracing his lips

“Fair enough. Shall I continue?”

“Yes please,” Aziraphale grabbed his face, pulling down towards him and swallowing the surprise noise that stemmed from Crowley’s mouth. Crowley tugged at his tie, unbuttoning both of their top buttons and moving his mouth downwards, pressing open mouth kisses to Aziraphale pulse on his throat. He titled his head back, a low whine punched out of his throat as he grasped the back of Crowley’s head.

“Ah- wait,” Crowley jumped off, scanning anxiously for signs of discomfort “Don’t kiss there. It might leave a mark,” Crowley gulped, whipping his swollen mouth with the back of his hand as he nodded. He went to lean back in but more and more raindrops landed on his back and consequently Aziraphale’s face.

“Okay, not to be a mood killer but it's really starting to rain now,” He looked up and to the sky to see the gathering crowds had grown darker and the rain was getting heavier and heavier. The previous warmth he felt next to Aziraphale was growing dimmer as the water progressively soaked his clothes and him

“Yeah, I agree,”

“Right, to the car,” He pushed himself off, offering a hand to Aziraphale. Once their hands made contact, the rain got heavier, the sound of the droplets hitting the ground getting louder, and he pulled Aziraphale off the ground. They ran hand in hand to the car, jumping into the back seat and shutting the door as they sat down. They panted softly, looking out the window as they saw their food get more drenched.

“Oh the food, it's all ruined!” Aziraphale whined, pressing his hand to the window

“It doesn't matter, angel,” Crowley muttered as Aziraphale turned back around to face him.

“If you say so,” Crowley sucked in a breath, and Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows in confusion “What?”

“Last time I saw you this soaked, you'd just given your very expensive white coat to a pregnant homeless lady,” Aziraphale’s face softened at the memory, his eyes growing distant with reminiscent bliss.

“I remember that. Father was so furious,” He said, a soft chuckle escaping his mouth as Crowley’s body immediately tensed up.

“What!” He shouted, and Aziraphale’s eyes widened with realisation

“No, not like that. Sorry, I should have worded that better. No, he was just upset I had given it away without a second thought. I remember feeling so confused because you, the legit embodiment of everything I was taught to stand against, seemed more proud of my act than the patron of the church,” He finished, a soft smile covering his mouth that made Crowley feel all warm and fuzzy in a sickeningly sweet way.

“That was the day I realised you were an angel. A real angel,” He said, his chest filling with pride as Aziraphale’s face was tinted red.

“And that was the day I realised that, at heart, you had just a little bit of goodness in you,” He said smugly, which only resulted in Crowley rolling his eyes and pulling him into him again.

“Shut up and continue kissing me already,” Aziraphale had a second to compose himself before he was kissing Crowley’s lips again. He sighed happily against him and Crowley drank in the sound like an alcoholic. He clung onto Aziraphale’s shirt, his top buttons unbuttoned and exposing smooth pale collar and chest that looked as tempting as a low hanging fruit.

He should stop. He should pull away. He definitely shouldn’t be climbing onto Aziraphale’s lap and he definitely shouldn’t be making a lustful groan against Aziraphale’s lips as large hands came around to grab onto his arse, pressing an ever increasing boner against his hip. But it felt so good and so right that stopping now seemed impossible.

He grinded on Aziraphale’s lap, exploiting the gasp he made to slip his tongue in and start to become reacquainted with the inside of his mouth. He tilted his head up, lapping him up like a stray dog as his hands got lost in his soft blond curls. Aziraphale happily followed his lead, bucking up every now and then for some sort of contact, desperate for that relief that spread through his body with every electric touch.

Crowley eventually left his mouth and started wandering downwards to press hungry kisses to his open throat, which Aziraphale willingly gave up like a sheep in front of the wolf, despite his earlier warning of marks, feeling too delirious and blissful to tell him to stop. Aziraphale’s grip on his hips tightened, hanging on to him for dear life as fire spread throughout his entire body as Crowley continued pressing into him.

“Crowley, I need you,” He said between kisses, gasping for air as his chest heaved up and down. Crowley nodded without reason, his lips wet and swollen, just the way Aziraphale liked them, which only helped keep the spark of desire alive and roaring inside him.

“Me too, angel. What do you need?” His voice was gravely again and Aziraphalec couldn’t help the whine that was produced at the back of his throat. Crowley seemed to have heard it, as a sly grin overtook his face and he began pecking small kisses on Aziraphale’s neck and jawline, which was very unhelpful as Aziraphale was desperately trying to form a coherent thought that wasn’t ‘dear God, don’t stop’ and ‘more’.

“I don't know. Anything,” Immediately, his mind procured his new favourite obsession ever since their phone call earlier that week, the sight of Crowley on his knees in worship of him. There was no way that Crowley would know that but he could feel Crowley’s mouth crooked upwards as they found his lips again, hovering just above the brush against his lips.

“You've got something in mind, don't you, angel?” He said teasingly. Aziraphale moved his hands back under his shirt, now wrinkled and ruffled as it bunch up over his hands.

“No,” He said and dove back to kiss him again. However, Crowley moved back keeping himself just out of reach

“Why are you lying, angel, when we could both have a good time if you say the truth-”

“Can you suck my cock?” He said in a brief and fleeting moment of confidence. Crowley’s eyes widened as his eyebrows shot up so far they could’ve touched his hairline. He was silent for not even a second before Aziraphale spoke again. “You don't have to if you want. obviously. I just though -nevermind that, whatever you want to do is perfectly fine-”

“Shut up you, silly angel,” Finally, finally, Crowley came crashing back, gripping both sides of his face. Aziraphale melted into the kiss, his worries evaporating from his body the second Crowley was touching him again. Crowley slid down until he was kneeling between his legs, looking up at him through his eyelashes.

Aziraphale gulped. Hard. He has no idea he could be so aroused without even being touched yet. His heart was pounding sinfully against his chest and his cheeks flushed with a nervous excitement. Carefully, Crowley undid his zipper, checking every few seconds to see how he was with a quick glance up and soon he had pushed his trousers down past his knees so he was sitting in his boxers with Crowley at eye level.

Instinctively, Aziraphale opened his legs as Crowley settled further within them. He pressed one soft kiss on the inside of his thigh and Aziraphale lit up. He threw his head back as every nerve became heightened and sensitive to Crowley’s touch. 

“If I can't leave a mark up there, I'll just have to leave them in a spot where no one will see them,” Aziraphale had a full body reaction to Crowley’s words, the promise of something more exciting to him in a way nothing had before.

He pressed one kiss, then another. Then they became wetter and more focused on one spot for a bit then he’d move on to a different part. Some would be so dangerously close to his erection that one small movement would finally grant him that sweet friction he’s been craving for what felt like hours. Every second that passed where Crowley was kissing his thighs was slowly unthreading any sort of resolve or worries.

At first, he thoroughly enjoyed every second until he was sure that was going to combust at any second. He slowly started babbling, whispering vague threats and complaints to try and get him to the main show. However, his words fell on deaf ears as Crowley continued to mark his legs until he was covered in thousands of bruises. Nice bruises. Bruises that came from love and not hate. So he switched to the only other option: begging.

“Jesus Christ - Crowley please just touch me. I'm begging you,” He whined, desperately bucking up as Crowley’s hands held him down as he soothed a surprise soft bite with his tongue. After what seemed like hour, Crowley finally nudged him through the fabric and the sensation shot through him like a bullet

“Fuck! Crowley please don’t stop,” He felt like crying. He was so close and he hadn’t even taken his underwear off. It was almost pathetic and embarrassing how hard he was from just kissing.

Crowley chuckled deeply against him. “So greedy,” He didn’t bother replying because he was finally slipping his underwear off and freeing his cock, the sudden cold air making him shiver with pleasure “Holy shit,” Crowley exclaimed, snapping Aziraphale out of his haze.

“That’s not something someone want to hear from their boyfriend,”

“No it's just… you're big. Really big,’ He said after a moment and Aziraphale felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“Really?” He asked, his voice uncharacteristically high. Crowley simply raised an eyebrow in disbelief, a shock smile twisting his lips

“Yes, angel,” He said pointedly. Aziraphale gulped as the words left him and he remained unsure of what to say

“Oh, I always thought I was quite… average,” There was another pause before Crowley burst out laughing. Only Aziraphale would think 8 inches was average. He didn’t stop laughing, even when Aziraphale began lightly hitting him on the arm. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’m not laughing!” He said, his shoulder shaking uncontrollably as he failed to repress his fit.

“I can very clearly see you laugh,” He said as he crossed his arms in front of his body. Crowley pushed himself up from where he was kneeling, placing himself in front of his face

“You’re ridiculous,” He said softly, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Aziraphale lost himself in the feeling, his body desperately searching for any sort of contact that would bring him over the finish line. Too quickly, as Aziraphale would say, Crowley knelt back down between his legs, leaving him lunging forwards into empty air. A frustrated groan left his mouth and he couldn’t help the way his hips bucked in search of him and the way his head was thrown back in annoyance.

“Well, it's not like I had anyone to compare to. I don’t necessarily know how you perceive me but I’m certain I don’t give the vibes of someone whos has had a lot of experience with cock- oh fuck!” His train of thought was interrupted by Crowley who finally touched his aching cock. He gave the other boy one long swipe to the underside of his cock and Aziraphale melted into the seat as the relief he felt was instant.

“Crowley - Oh God - Crowley please,” He moaned, his eyes shut as pleasure took over him. Crowley gave a few experimental licks to the head of his cock, which were all met with sighs and noises of pleasure that drove him insane. After what seemed an eternity, Crowley took most of him in his mouth, enveloping him in a warm and wet heat that was better than anything his mind could have possibly conjured up

Almost instinctively, Aziraphale’s hand flew to Crowley’s locks, which had grown since they were cut in December, and burrowed it into his hair like a lifeline. He removed it as soon as he moved it, realising he was tugging “Sorry,”

Crowley pulled off, and before he had a chance to be mad, he spoke with a sultry tone that retired Aziraphale’s brain for the better “Don't be sorry. There's a reason I kept my hair long,” As soon as finished speaking, he went back to wrapping his mouth around him and started bobbing his head back and forth. Taking what Crowley said to heart, he returned his hands to his hair, grabbing handfuls as he started moving faster.

“Oh God, yes yes yes,” Aziraphale lost himself in the sensation, his mind no longer filled with his father’s voice and bible verses that damned him for all eternity. The outside world shut off from them and all that was left was them in the car with the rain thundering outside.

As if it couldn’t get better, Crowley simultaneously pressed his tongue on the underneath of his cock again as he continued moving, multiplying Aziraphale’s desire tenfold. Broken noises of lust left his mouth as Crowley sucked the life out of him. Aziraphale could feel himself get closer when Crowley hummed happily as the tip hit the back of his throat, sending his body into uncontrollable desire.

He vaguely registered the fact that Crowley’s hand, that was previously resting on his thigh had disappeared from view as Crowley frantically tugged at his zipper, pulling out his own cock and stroking it furiously. He moaned around Aziraphale’s throat, and Aziraphale had to fight every instinct in him that was telling him to buck up and fuck Crowley’s mouth.

Aziraphale moaned and groaned more, grounding his hand further into Crowley’s hair. It seemed to be doing something to Crowley as the harder he tugged the more he hummed around him and the quicker his hand became around his own cock. Aziraphale dared to look down, and made eye contact with Crowley who was looking up at him through his eyelashes, his eyes full of adoration and fondness.

“Oh shit! Crowley, I’m close,” Crowley gave him one last bob, giving an exaggerated lick up before he pulled off and moved upwards. His hand enveloped both of them and quickly replaced his mouth and he started jerking them off even faster than before. The contact of skin from the other boy drove Aziraphale wild and he was being overwhelmed with sensations previously unknown to him.

Crowley kissed him again, and he could taste himself on Crowley’s tongue. It should’ve been gross, it should’ve disgusted him but he had never been so turned on that all he could do was moan pornographically into his mouth, dragging him as close as he could to him.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me,” Crowley whispered in his ear, so close he could feel the breath on his neck and Aziraphale couldn’t help but obey as felt himself come over Crowley’s fist. The other boy continued stroking him through his orgasm, pressing small kisses on his cheeks as he slowly came down from his high. 

Crowley’s body fell limp on top of him, the weight of Crowley grounding Aziraphale from floating up and away. Both boys panted, placing their foreheads together with their eyes closed. As he slowly took control of his breathing, Crowley had stopped touching him and was now just holding him as Aziraphale’s systems came back online.

It took a second to process but Aziraphale’s brain finally registered what happened. “Sweetheart?” He asked almost shyly, pulling Crowley back so he could look him in the eye. The other boy shrugged, “Spur of the moment. Don't like it?”

“I can get used to it. Especially in a context like this,” He kissed him again, this one slow and gentle, which contrasted his previous frantic and overwhelming desire. They rested in silence, a sense of peace spread over the both of them.

“Good?” Crowley hummed, nustling into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, breathing in his scent of sweat, sweetness and sex.

“Very good, angel,” Was the only response he could give to the other boy, who started softly petting him and the back of his head, which meant that Crowley had no desire to let him go anytime soon.

Aziraphale glanced outside, resting his cheek on top of Crowley’s head, and saw the previous violent storm was almost gone. “At least the rain look like its lessening,”

“Hm,” Aziraphale rolled his eyes at Crowley fondly, a giddy smile forming in his face. He continued soaking up Crowley on his lap unsure of when the next time he would be this cuddly would come. He never would’ve imagined this, all the way back in September, the way Crowley had let all his walls down to be so vulnerable in front of him, and Aziraphale sure as hell wasn’t going to mess it up.

He glanced back outside, which is when a small bird that landed near their abandoned food began picking lightly. He tapped Crowley excitedly, his eyes widened in recognition of the small animal.

“Darling look! I think it's a nightingale. I didn't think we got those around here,” He said but Crowley didn’t even budge from his position, only groaning into his neck.

“The second I get control of my body, I'll be excited, angel. Just give me a moment’s rest,” He said and Aziraphale couldn’t help but roll his eyes again. 

Eventually, his mind landed on the videos they had been making these past months and his mind went to tap on his abandoned blazer and coat to try and feel for his phone. However, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he felt nothing but empty pockets.

“Huh?” He said more so to himself, but Crowley roused from his position to look at where he was touching the coats and blazers.

‘“What?”

“I can’t find my phone,” Aziraphale muttered, not looking at him.

“Want me to call it?” Crowley offered. Aziraphale nodded mutely and Crowley fished his phone from his blazer. The phone rang once, then twice but nothing was heard apart from the ringing of Crowley’s own phone. The call eventually dropped when Aziraphale didn’t pick up and he shrugged lamely.

“I think I forgot it this morning. Must be at home then,” He said, turning his attention back to the boy in his lap. Crowley’s eyes scanned his face, an undefined emotion written in his eyes.

“You feeling alright?” And Aziraphale instantly knew he was feeling better than alright. He was light, lighter than he ever was and he finally wasn’t being tied down to his upbringing and old views. He gave him the brightest smile he could, finally feeling fulfilled and free.

“Never better,”

Aziraphale was furious. They had returned back to school, still somewhat soggy from the rain they caught 15 minutes before the end of last period. There was no point in going to class now so he hung around the back of the school with Crowley waiting for his brother to pick him up.

He had suggested filming one of their videos to Crowley, but he said he had no more storage left, despite the fact they had taken a photo a moment before and Aziraphale was left with that same sinking feeling that Crowley wasn’t telling him something, but he chalked it up to him being delusional.

Crowley left 5 minutes before he did, so they weren’t seen walking to the front of the school together and Aziraphale waited for his brother. Except he didn’t come at all and Aziraphale had waited 20 minutes for his brother to come only to realise he wasn’t coming and he was forced to walk him. The whole walk, he felt his anger fuming, the annoyance bubbling inside him until it replaced any sort of bliss he had from his experience in the car.

Despite his anger, every time he looked back to earlier, he couldn’t help the foolish smile that blossomed on his mouth. It was obvious to everyone he walked past that he was keeping something important close to his chest, but no one could’ve possibly guessed who or what was putting that sappy grin on his face.

At last, he reached his house, taking two steps at a time to reach his front door, desperate for the warmth now that he no longer had Crowley’s jacket. 

It would’ve been irationaly for him to say he felt something was wrong.

But he did.

The house was quiet, eerily quiet, in a way that was only when something was about to go horribly wrong. His mother didn’t step out from the kitchen to greet him, but Gabriel did. He half wanted to shout at him for making him wait, but the way his signature smirk of arrogance was on his face made his blood run cold.

“Father wants to see you in his office,” He said calmly before walking back out of sight. Aziraphale’s heart was caught in his throat and he couldn’t breath. What did he want? Did he know something? Did Gabriel tell him about the incident in the kitchen?

Every step up those stairs felt like torture, and chains were added to his feet, threatening to drag him down and making him fall. He could no longer delay the inevitable, as he was soon face to face with the door of his father’s study. He took a deep breath, thinking of Crowley and how he felt calm and at peace he had been with him as he pushed the door open.

The sight before him shattered any sort of composure and peace he had.

Because his father was standing there looking at his phone.

Chapter Text

The sight before him shattered any sort of composure and peace he had because his father was standing there looking at his phone.

Aziraphale nearly broke down right there and then as the immense fear took over every cell in his body. He felt the tears sting and he was certain his heart was going to fall out of his chest and end up in front of them. His father robotically lifted his head at the sound of the door squeaking open, and his demeanour shifted from still to predatory.

“Close the door,” he enunciated, his tone dangerously calm. Half of Aziraphale wanted to say no, not wanting to willingly close himself in a cage with a hungry lion, but he knew better than to fight in his grip and if he wanted any chance of survival, he wasn’t going to poke it.

Aziraphale’s hands were shaking as they moved to push the door close, praying to the Lord to save him and praying for Crowley, but in his heart he knew none of them were coming to save him. His father indicated in front of him and Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel like he was walking up to the guillotine about to execute him. He gulped as his father turned his gaze back to his phone, now cursing himself for not installing a password, because who would need a password to a phone only two people knew about.

“You were always different, Aziraphale. I knew that about you from the beginning. You were… obedient . Sure, the occasional mistake and error had to be accounted for but you always stayed in line. It was one of your best qualities,” without tearing his gaze from the phone, his father began circling him and every hair stood on edge, a shiver running down his spine.

“You were so passionate about church and our Lord. Hell, you even memorised more of the Bible before you started secondary school than me at the time. So when Gabriel started coming to me with concerns you were being tempted away from the light, I had my doubts,” Aziraphale’s eyes were trained downwards, not moving from the spot on the floor. His entire body was on edge, and he felt every micro movement from his father. The way his step had a slight march, the way he fixed his glasses with an iron control, the way his breath hitched as his anger almost got the best of him.

“On New Years, I thought it was a one time thing. A juvenile attempt of rebellion quickly smothered with some persuasion. But then he came to me about you hiding something and I gave him until the end of this week to prove it to me. He almost failed until… this started ringing,” at this, his father finally returned in front of him, gripping the phone by his face, forcing Aziraphale to look up.

“Lying, partying, drinking and smoking I could possibly forgive. But then I saw this,” he knew what was going to happen, but his head whipped to the phone as it played a familiar scene.

‘ So new year, new you and you’ve decided to kick this off with a secret homosexual relationship. My, how quickly I’ve tainted you, ’ even without the very incriminating words, the pure look of adoration in Aziraphale’s eyes was something he couldn’t possibly fake or hide. It was clear to see for the whole world just how much Anthony Crowley meant to him.

The video played in the background as Aziraphale dared to glance towards his father. He was physically shaking, his jaw tight as his anger seemed to steam up his glasses and his knuckles had turned white around his phone. He was scared he was going to break it in half. “Father-“

“You will speak when I tell you to!”  His father lunged forwards, grabbing his throat and pulling him close enough for Aziraphale to feel the fury pitted on him. The effect due to lack of oxygen happened immediately, and he started frantically clawing at his father’s hand, desperately searching for air.

“Please, I can explain!” That was the wrong thing to say as his father shoved him against the wall, hard, and his ears started ringing as his head collided hard against the hard surface.

“Explain? Explain why I have video proof of you being tempted and defiling yourself with that faggot Crowley!” Aziraphale saw white, the adrenaline coursing through his body combined with the agony he felt giving him a miraculous burst of strength. 

He was thrashing in his father’s grip and blindly swung in front of him. It was the sound his fist made when he hit something hard and the way his father’s grip dropped instantly to cradle his cheek that Aziraphale realised he had actually hit his father. Aziraphale heaved loudly, gulping as much air as possible.

“Don’t you dare call him that,” he growled, glaring at the blond man in front of him and for the first time, Aziraphale saw a new emotion. His father’s eyes were wide with fear? It seemed improbable, impossible more like, but he was staring at his youngest with recognition that he was no longer the scared little kid that walked past the scene in the study in fear he would wreak havoc. He wasn’t going to passively allow his father to hurt him like he did Lucy.

He regained his composure as he clasped a handful of his hair and pulled him down to the floor in one swift motion. Aziraphale’s eyes became blurry and he was unable to block the swift kick to his ribs. As he doubled over in pain, he vaguely registered his father’s words above him. “You will regret ever thinking that I would allow such filthy behaviour in my home. I’ll make you regret everything you have ever done,”

His father stepped around him and Aziraphale rolled onto his back, bringing his arms in front of his face. His father grabbed both of them, digging his nails painfully into the soft flesh. Aziraphale screamed as his father’s nails started breaking skin, his head became delirious as he realised his father was cutting him and small crescent shaped cuts were breaking his skin. 

He thrashed like a fish on a line, trying desperately to release the grip. He glanced wildly from his father’s face, which had contarted and twisted with fury and the door. All he had to do was get to the door. Get to the door. He lifted his legs, kicking blindly until he hit some part of the older man’s leg. He let go for a moment, and Aziraphale took it to start crawling away to the door.

Get to the door

Get to the door

Get to the fucking door-

His hair was pulled back from him and he couldn't help the cry of agony as the man ripped chunks of his hair. He had a second to gather his surroundings before his father smashed his head against the floor. He heard the crack before pain flooded his entire system. The familiar smell and taste filled his nose, which was now bent at an unnatural angle. He felt the fight leave him as his nose throbbed with pain.

“I should get rid of you. Get rid of you like I did your faggot brother and finally rid the world of your existence,” at the mention of Lucy, he started crying, his head far away but present at the same time as it became engulfed in suffering.

“Dad stop-” he bashed his head again, twisting his nose further away from normal. The blood seeping out of his nose reached his lips and he felt like his lungs were filling up with the metallic fluid. His father twisted him around, releasing his hair but swinging towards his head, making him cry in agony once again at the contact

“You are no son of mine. You have been taken over by the devil,”

“Please stop. You’re hurting me,” he slurred his words only seeing the vague outline of the man in front of him.

“Do you think I care what a pervert like you feels?” 

Another hit, the other side of his face 

“You should be lucky I’m not bashing your head in on the pavement,” 

A punch, this one to the stomach, punching the wind out of him. 

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

What did he have to say for himself? His entire system was a light, the warning sirens going off and ringing in his ears. He looked up at the ceiling, the plain, old, normal, ordinary ceiling and prayed to God. Praying for an answer as to what he did to deserve this. How could he make him guilty of love and his father innocent of hate? He wanted to scream, half from the pain, half from the emotional hurt he had. He was on the brink of death, he felt it and he knew that he should fight. He knew he was the victim here. He knew that his father was at fault. But as the sky stayed silent, with no protecting light, he realised this was his fate

His fate was to die at the hand of his father, at the hand of The Father. He talks about how He loves his creations, and how He grants Grace to all to save them, but the sight of Crowley’s face flashed before his eyes. The sight of Crowley, the kindest, purest, most wonderful thing to happen to Aziraphale, being exiled and ostracised from the church and God and Aziraphale asked if He wouldn’t even save the most pure, why would He save someone like him?

God is not listening to him. He never was, never has. No one is coming to save him. 

“Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Have mercy,” His face contorted in pain, his tears streaming down his face leaving a permanent mark. John’s hand came up to his neck, squeezing as he pulled him up.

“You could have ruined me. You could’ve ended my entire career. This is me being merciful. But I will not allow this to continue,” He dropped him back onto the floor, his head banging causing a searing pain to blind his vision. 

His hair was being pulled again and he was being dragged on the floor like a corpse. He screamed and shouted, grabbing wildly at where John’s hand was. He realised he wasn’t in the office anymore, and he was being dragged down the stairs, banging painfully on every step. His father launched him down the last few steps, leaving him in a broken puddle at the base of the stairs as his body suffered his torture. His breath was ragged, every inhale acting like a knife to the chest and it was near impossible for him to take a deep breath. He saw his mother, her face pale with horror, run out of the kitchen.

“Aziraphale!” He reached out but his father stomped onto his hand and he cried out a shattered scream.

“Don’t you dare try and help this faggot , Dolly,” His father spat the floor at him and he shook violently, the word encasing him like a parent’s hug.

“Mum…” His voice was torn as he barely managed to stutter out the syllable.

“John please-” His mother stepped forwards towards them, but John gave her a slap with the back of his hand and she cradled her cheek like she cradled him.

“You stupid bitch! Don’t you dare disobey me!” He gave her one last look before his upper arm was being grabbed and he was being pulled to the door. He thought he spotted Gabriel out of the corner of his eye, but it must’ve been an illusion because he would never look at Aziraphale with worry or concern like the hallucination was.

His father all but threw him down the front steps as his body went hurtling down the concrete stairs as the rough stone grated bits of his skin off. “If anyone spots you, I will find you and ensure no one will find you again,”

He heard the front door slam shut, and he tried getting up but he couldn’t help the guttural scream that left his mouth. He went limp against the concrete, no longer caring about getting dirty. He inhaled once, then twice and a sickening raspy noise came out of him and he couldn’t breath. He can't breathe. The oxygen can’t get to his lungs and he couldn’t fucking breathe anymore.

Panic took over his systems and he lay shaking and trembling out in the cold, his body in a huddle like a marionette with its strings cut. He wouldn’t survive this, even without his injuries, the cold would swallow him whole and no one would remember him.

No one would care about what happened to him. He was alone

I’m alone

No one cares any more.

Please God. I need you to be real. I need you to be real so you can kill me. Please kill me. I can’t take this pain and suffering. I need you to kill me so I can be with you.

Mark 15:34 : My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?

Do you recognise Your Son? Because I don’t think I have a father anymore. I don’t think so because this is how he left me. People say Lucifer still exists because nothing can exist if You don’t love it. I used to think that, but I don’t anymore because I exist and he sure as hell doesn’t love me. He can’t when I knowingly walked away from You. From paradise. 

Do you still love me? I need Your love. If You really loved me You would stop, and let me die already.

…

“ANSWER ME, GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!” He hurled at the sky, but as always, the sky stayed mute, because God still loved him, despite everything he did and everything he is.

“I don’t deserve this,” He didn’t know what he was referring to, either God’s love, or his suffering but he stayed on that floor for what seemed like hours, unable to move as he gasped for breath. That voice entered his head again. That one that told him it was his fault. If he listened to his father, and hadn’t been with Crowley, he wouldn’t be laying dying as his parents stood a wall over.

No one is coming to save you

That’s what it said.

No one is coming to save you

Over and over again.

No one is coming to save you. No one is coming to save you. No one is coming to save you. No one is coming to save you. No one is coming to save you. No one is coming to save you. No one is coming to save you. No one is coming to save you. No one is coming to save you. No one is coming to save you. No one is coming to save you. No one is coming to save you

No one is coming to save you

Get up

A new voice came in. It wasn’t like the one before.

Get up

It said the same thing.

No one is coming to save you

But it was different.

No one is coming to save you, so get up.

Get up, Aziraphale

Get up, angel

Get up

He didn’t know who it belonged to. It could’ve been God’s. It could’ve been the devil’s. Except it couldn’t be either, because it was Crowley’s voice, urging -no begging- him to get up. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head at him. He can’t, it hurts too much.

Get. Up. 

Aziraphale’s arms shook as he pushed himself up, only now registering the pain in his ankle. He looked down and saw it had landed in a way that twisted uncomfortably and left an engraved sting on his foot. 

No one is coming to save you, so get up.

Every step he took was agony. He wrapped himself as tightly as he could in his school blazer, his only protection from the harsh february winds that bit on his face and exposed hands. He had no sense of time, every step taking another 10 minutes as he waited for the pain to stop being so overwhelming before continuing. He still couldn’t breath and he was making this ghastly raspy sound every time he inhaled. His heart was beating very fast as not enough oxygen was in his lungs for another step. He needed to stop.

Oh hell no, angel. You’re doing so well, keep walking and don’t you dare stop.

So he kept walking, no matter how painful each individual step was. No matter how cold he was and how his body shivered, the night only got colder and colder. He didn’t even realise when the 4km from the town centre and his home had passed, only recognising where he was as the street lamps gots denser and more frequent. The town was a ghost town, a slight fog covering his vision. Actually, he didn’t know if there was fog, or if his eyes were still messed up. He turned around in a circle, looking but not seeing. Every shop looked like its neighbour. Every flower looked like its friend. Everything was one and nothing.

Everything but the church.

He should move on. Leave religion and God like they left him. Leave them broken and hurt and half dead on the pavement. He looked up at the building he spent every weekend in for the past 18 years of his life. His second home, his mutual ground with the Lord.

Keep moving, angel.

Angel, keep moving

Angel!

I have to do this first.

He didn’t even register what he was doing until he was knocking on the big wooden doors, the metal knocker clanking three times in rapid succession. There was no response and it was still hard to breathe. He knocked again, his desperation not stopping at three knocks, not stopping at five, seven, nine, eleven, thirteen…

The door swung open and an annoyed looking father Abel opened the door.

“Whoever you are, you may come back when the church is- Aziraphale?!” He shrieked, taking in the sight of him before him. He must look like a mess, Aziraphale thought, with wrinkled and dirty school uniform and a beat up face to leave no suspicions about what happened to him.

“I need..”

“By God, you look awful! What happened to you?” He took one of Aziraphale’s hands, resting  the other around his shoulders and brought him into the warm building. The relief from the cold was an instant relief, but his ankle bit him with every step, and he still had something to do.

“Father-”

“Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

‘If anyone spots you, I will find you and ensure no one will find you again’

“Please don’t call the ambulance!” He shouted at him, gripping his arms with a wild and crazy look in his eye. Father Abel’s expression was scrunched up with confusion, desperately searching for an explanation, or sanity “I need to make a confession,”

“A confession?” The teen nodded, while the old man shook his head in confusion. “Aziraphale, whatever this confession is, I’m sure it can wait until we get you in front of a doctor,” Aziraphale shook his head, panic fueled tears filled his eyes.

“No no no. This can’t wait. I need to confess. Now,”

“Aziraphale…” The priest started softly.

“Father, please just let me confess!” He yelled, bowing his head in shame. There was a brief pause in which Aziraphale half thought to get on his hands and knees and start begging like a stray dog before he heard the priest sigh about him.

“Alright, but you are not leaving here until I look at you,” Aziraphale could almost cry with joy, thanking the older man profusely while he looked at him concerned for the wellbeing of a boy he saw grow up. He was helped into the confessional, Father Abel shooting him one last glance before leaving him and moving to his side of the box. 

He shakily brought up his hand to his head, then heart, then shoulders, every move he made craved a residual ache in his bones. He coughed, clearing his throat as he was aware just how broken and desolate he sounded.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It’s been…” He trailed off, realising he didn’t know. He had to remember. He had to do this perfectly, or else he was damned. He was damned for all eternity all because he coudln’t remember a fucking date-

“It’s alright, Aziraphale. Don’t worry about the date. Tell me what’s troubling you,”

Aziraphale gulped, squeezing his eyes at the thought of opening up. The words got stuck in his throat and it felt like he was choking on them. Father Abel stayed silent through the wall, only catching a vague outline through the gaps in the little window between them. He took a deep breath, ignoring the burning pain as he did so.

“I, um. At the beginning of the year, I started talking to someone I never had before. At first, everyone in my life told me not to do it. I was told he was dangerous and cruel and not welcomed here. He was a blasphemous being, and my whole life I believed it with my entire being,” He recalled the way his father had yelled at him that September day when he brought it up. He remembered the way he loathed Crowley with his entirety when he decided to skip their session to smoke.

Then he recalled, like he had earlier today, the way his eyes lit up when he told him about his gift to the homeless lady. The way his heart recognised the signs of a new love despite his denial and refusal. Or the way he gifted him something as precious as a phone not eve a month in just so they could talk.

“But I was curious? That's not right, I was… captivated by him. He made the sun shine brighter, the stars seem more vibrant and I couldn't understand- I didn't understand because this was nothing like what they said he’d be,”

“I only feared for my life when he'd go swerving down Oxford St at 90 mph. He always brought grapes to the park to give to the ducks because he read somewhere that bread made them bloated. But he was blasphemous. He was tempting in a way nothing ever was to me. But he never pushed, never insisted, never coerced me into doing anything,” He remembered the party, how he gently judged him into freedom but never dragged him down with him. The way he only made him smoke one cigarette with him and the rest of the times after was from Aziraphale’s own will. 

It would’ve made more sense to him if he forced the drink down his throat, or forcefully made him take a hit. It’s what someone like Crowley would do, according to his father. But he knew from the beginning he was different. This was different. They were different. “I tried to resist, Father, you have to believe me,” He said, his voice breaking into a whine as complete helplessness washed over him like a wave.

“Of course I believe you. The devil is everywhere and he wouldn’t have many followers if resisting was easy,” his voice was gentle, but it had a warning bite to it.

“I gave in, and I liked it. I liked the way it made him laugh, I liked the way he looked at me afterwards. It's like he offered me my first bite of food for the first time in 18 years and he made me realise I was starving,” His mind shifted forwards, when glances would be made in secret. Quick brushes of the hand would linger like a tattoo. Moments where they were so close he could see the swirling galaxies in his amber eyes. 

“I don't know when it happened, but I started doing things to please him, not myself. He was perfect, and there was no way this was the same demon everyone was warning me about, so I let myself fall into him,”

“What do you mean?” Father Abel questioned and Aziraphale was frozen in the spot. He had come a long way since December, but admitting to something you were told your entire life was wrong still provided its challenges two months later.

“I started having… thoughts. Thoughts of him and I together, the way no man should think of another man, let alone his best friend. And I lusted. Please forgive me, I don't want to be dirty, I didn't mean for this to happen,” His shoulders shook as he cried, letting out sobs of despair that echoed in the otherwise silent church

“You have commit homosexual acts with this man?” His face scrunched up in pain, his eyes red and cheeks sticky with tears.

“Yes,”

“May I ask, is this man Anthony Crowley?” He had consciously avoided his name. He didn;t know why, it was childish to go through this confession without his name coming up. But at the sound of it, his heart twisted the knife of betrayal. All those moments of happiness and freedom, he was throwing away in order to feel clean again.

“Yes,” He finally admitted, though it might have been easier to swallow a rock than to say the three letter word.

“I see,” Was all he said and the tense silence grew.

“I’m sorry for these and all my sins,” He whispered, leaning his head against the wall as a wave of dizziness hit him once more.

“Well, I can’t say that this is easy to hear, Aziraphale. To know that someone as pure as you, the heart of the church and the community, has been tainted by the devil is very upsetting. I thought your father had told me about some arranged relationship with young Miss Service. I thought you two would be wonderful together. A shame that the devil had gotten to you first,”

“I’m sorry,” Was all that he could muster. He had gotten used to the constant pain, having spent all of his emotions he was left with the achingly empty and numb feeling in his chest.

“No, do not be sorry. For you have made the smart decisions to save yourself and your soul from damnation

“Yes. Yes I have,”

“I understand that he is your age?”

“Yes Father,”

“You must right this wrong. You must never speak with him again. I would suggest to your father to have you leave school, and work here. This not only allows you to help the church while you repent for your sins, but it allows you to never have to encounter Crowley again,”

“And then I'd be saved?” He questioned like a child.

“Yes my dear boy. You would be saved. Do you accept this penance?”

His face scrunched up again. He wanted to be saved. He needed to be saved. But never speaking to Crowley again? He had spent his life so far not speaking to Crowley. This would be easy. This should be easy.

Why isn't it easy

“I…” He had a taste of this isolation in December, when they had that fight when he first came out. And it was the most depressing and awful month of his life. The days blurred into one. He had no energy as every waking thought and effort was concentrated on not crying his heart out again. Could he be able to do it? Say goodbye to Crowley not for a month, but for a lifetime? “I can’t,”

“Aziraphale, you must,” His voice was blunt, courtly, and direct. Aziraphale shook his head violently, despite knowing he couldn’t be seen

“No, I can't never see him again. I care about him too much. I love him too much,” He admitted. It was the first time he said that thought out loud and his heart felt giddy with teenage hormones. Father Abel scoffed.

“You silly boy. This is not love. This is a perverted obsession that will lock you out of God’s kingdom,”

“No, there must be another way,”

“If you do not accept this penance, you have to leave,” He said, stopping Aziraphale for a moment but he shook his head. He wouldn’t do it. He can’t do it

“I’m sorry but there has to be something else. Please Father-” his thoughts were cut off as the old man wheezed out angrily.

“For a confession to work and absolve your sins you must be sorry for your sins. Are you sorry?”

There was a pause as Aziraphale’s brain replayed those three words over in his head. Was he sorry? Was he sorry for drinking every ounce of Crowley everytime they kissed? Was he sorry in the way he revelled in the way Crowley looked at him whenever he did something brave? Was he sorry that he would not trade it in for anything else?

“No. No, I will not be shamed for love,” He admitted confidently. There was silence from the other booth and his heart grew faster every second that Father Abel stayed silent. And just when hope of forgiveness began to blossom in his chest, it was quickly extinguished by his next sentence.

“Then you are no longer welcome here,” 

Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed in panic and confusion “What?” The words had barely left his mouth when the door to confessional burst open. Father Abel yanked him out the seat, gripping as hard as he could on his arm and dragging him out. On a normal day, despite not wanting to, he could very easily have fought out of the old man’s grip but it seemed that with his touch every ache and soreness had returned, only tenfold was tearing every once of fight left in him

“Get out,” He growled with disdain as Aziraphale shook his head in vain.

“Father no-”

“If you think I would allow you to bring your deviance here and stain the house of God you are further gone than I thought,” He said as he marched to the door. He pulled the door harshly and threw the younger man onto the floor. His body screamed at the contact and he barely had enough energy to speak, let alone lift his head to look his beloved priest in the eye.

“Father, you can’t do this. It's me. It’s Aziraphale,”

“The boy I knew is gone. Don't think about coming back unless you truly want to repent,” And for the second time this evening, a door was slammed in Aziraphale’s face, locking him out in the cold.

Aziraphale had spent all his tears, so his shoulders shook as invisible tears formed in his eyes. For the second time that evening, he felt truly alone. No one was here to support him. No one was here to comfort him. No one was here to save him.

Except.

Get up, angel

‘Why are you still here? Aren’t you mad at me?’

Of course I am. For someone as clever as you, you can be kinda stupid

‘Then why don’t you leave? Leave like everyone else did?’

Because I am not letting you die out here

‘You should. I deserve it’

If the real me ever hears you say that, I would personally kill you. You are too brilliant, too fussy and too extraordinary to die on the steps of the church, kicked out for being who you are. You are a teenager, not a martyr, so get up

‘I can’t. Not again. I tried and I failed’

You didn’t fail. You simply logged out of the game and waited too long to play again. You know the manuals and the controls, you just need to get back in the swing of things

‘That doesn’t even makes sense’

It doesn’t have to make sense. I’m your subconscious and you have got blood loss, a broken nose and some bruised bones, so you're delirious

‘Where would I even go next?’

Remember our promise

‘Crowley?’

…

“Crowley?” Aziraphale whispered out into the night, his eyes were half shut and his breath shaking as it condensed in front of him. He remembered their promise, the promise he made when Crowley had found out about his home life. The way he wouldn’t let it go until he was certain Aziraphale would remember.

Slowly, painfully, determined, Aziraphale pushed himself up and continued walking.

Chapter Text

“I don’t care what anyone says, the Back to the Future trilogy is the greatest piece of cinema ever made,” Crowley said, stuffing his face with the pizza piece in his hand and talking with food in his mouth. His dad only gave him a side smirk, the opening theme to the trilogy playing for a third and final time that night.

“Well that's the good thing about a time-travelling film. It's timeless ,” He said, wiggling his eyebrows as Crowley groaned loudly at the familiar dad joke.

“Dad!”

“You love that joke and you know it,” He said, taking one more swig of the open beer bottle in his hand. Crowley curled up on the sofa, tucking his legs beneath him as he finished off his slice in record time.

“One time! I laughed one time!” He said exasperated. His father didn’t look at him as he chuckled at his frustration. As the two laughed, they heard three rapid knocks at their door.   “Who is that?”

They looked at each other, then the already delivered pizza, then back up. His dad shrugged, looking back at the tv calmly. “Can’t be the pizza guy. Go answer it,” Crowley looked at him, letting his hand fall and slap the sofa in annoyance.

“What? Why me? What if it's an axe murder!?” His dad rolled his eyes at his melodramatic tone.

“It’s not going to be an axe murder, Anthony. Go answer it,” Anthony groaned, purposefully dragging his feet to slow himself down as much as possible.

“ Fine , but if I get axed to death, you're not invited to the funeral,” The door banged again, this time more frantic than before. “I’m coming! I’m coming!”

He stepped out of the living room, pointedly ignoring the way his dad laughed at him. He rolled his eyes as the banging didn’t stop, muttering under his breath ‘please don’t be an axe murderer’ over and over until he reached the door.

He swung the door, and there, bruised and broken and blackened was: “Aziraphale?”

“Is it okay if I stay with you for a bit?” Aziraphale took one more step in, and all but collapsed under his weight. Crowley stuck his hand’s out, catching him as fell forwards. His nose was a sickly vomit green and bent in an unnatural position. His eyes were swollen and red and he was cold to the touch.

“Oh my god! Aziraphale!”

“He knows. He knows everything,” Aziraphale rambled, his eyes switching from crazed quick movements to going half lidded as if he was going to pass out. Crowley’s knees buckled, and he brought them to the ground as gently as he could. Aziraphale let out a yelp of pain, his eyes closing as the pain finally engulfed him whole, and he saw his father burst in through the corner of his eye.

“What’s going on? Holy shit, is that Aziraphale Prince?!” His father shouted but Crowley didn’t spare him a glance, shaking his boyfriend in his arms.

“Angel. Angel, look at me,” Aziraphale’s eyes were unfocused, his eyebrows turned downwards as tears of sadness and helplessness formed and fell.

“I didn't know where else to go,” 

“What the hell happened?!” His dad yelled, and the Aziraphale flinched, covering his head instinctively at the volume and Crowley’s heart broke even more than it was.

“It's fine, angel. You're fine,” His voice broke, nodding his head as reassuringly as possible “Call an ambulance!”

“DON’T!” Aziraphale’s eyes snapped open as he gripped both arms to hoist himself up.

“Angel…”

“Please don't. He'll find me and kill me. He's gonna kill me for even coming here,” His entire body shook with every word as his eyes became covered in panic and fear.

“Can someone explain what the hell is going on!” His dad yelled, none of the boys acknowledging him as they stared at each other with horror and pain.

“It hurts…”

“He needs to go to a hospital. He looks awful!” Finally, Aziraphale turned to his father, shaking his head rapidly

“No! Please don't make me,”

“Dad!” Crowley turned to his father, who was flicking his gaze to and from his son with a look that betrayed his internal conflict. After what seemed like an age to both boys, he sighed as a new resolved mindset was evident in his eyes.

“Get him upstairs. I’ll come soon,” Crowley nodded once, wrapping an arm around Aziraphale’s waist, throwing one of his arms around his shoulders. Aziraphale winced once Crowey began to move, tear pricking in his eyes as the pain he had repressed to get here had started to become unbearable. He shook his head with every step, unable to keep going despite Crowey’s quick pace moving them halfway up the stairs in record time.

“That’s it, angel. Keep moving,” He whispered into his ear as he made another cry of anguish but took another step up. He was this close to carrying up the stairs as Aziraphale stopped once more to regain his breath.

“Crowley it hurts so much,” His eyes were squeezed shut, and his face was deathly pale, which only made his markings that more sickeningly easy to see.

“I know sweetheart, just a few more steps,” Aziraphale continued crying, continued moving and Crowley kept trying to distract him as best he could so they could get to his room soon. Every step was torture and it felt like Aziraphale’s body was being set on fire.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity only prolonged by his suffering, they made it to the room and Aziraphale all but collapsed on the bed squirming as every bone and muscle ached and screamed in agony. Crowley came up beside him, grabbing his hand like his life depended on it. Aziraphale squeezed it as his face scrunched up in pain and Crowley had to bite his tongue to let out a yelp.

“What happened?”

Aziraphale panted, as if every word caused him pain. “He found… he found my phone and the videos,” He didn’t need to clarify who he was, the betrayed and wounded glaze in his eyes told Crowley everything. Realisation dawned on Crowley, as his face drained of colour. The videos. He found the videos. He found his videos, that he started, in order to win the stupid bet. Guilt closed his throat and he struggled to breath.

This was his fault. Aziraphale was broken and hurt and the the brink of fucking death because of him. All because of his stupid, reckless, irresponsible bet that he made. If he never made that bet, Aziraphale wouldn’t be like this on his bed. If he never recorded the videos, Aziraphale wouldn’t be dying in front of his eyes.

“Holy shit. Holy fucking shit!” Was all he could say, a tsunami of guilt and shame washed over him. Aziraphale’s eyes leaked tears, creating small puddles on the pillow where he rested his head.

“This is all my fault,” He said in a barely audible whisper of a boy who had given up; in the voice of a boy who had already accepted a terrible fate no one should be faced with at 18.

“Don’t say that. Don’t be stupid,” Crowley said, his voice having more bite in it than he intended and feeling even more shit as Aziraphale winced in fear. Aziraphale gripped his arms again, like he did when he first fell through the door, his eyes glazed over in delirium as babbled feverishly.

“I don't want to die,” His voice cracked as more tears left his eyes. Crowley shook his head, unable to tell if he was reassuring Aziraphale or himself as Aziraphale’s sentence broke his heart.

“You’re not gonna die. I’m not letting you die, angel,” Crowley’s senses were overwhelmed with adrenaline, his heart was racing in his chest and blood pumped to his ears, somehow making it so he could hear nothing and everything.

“You can't leave me, not you too,” The other boy said.

“I won't. I’m here. I'm right here, angel,” Crowley gripped the hand he had in his grasp as tightly as he could, despair and anguish engulfing him whole as he breathlessly tried reassuring Aziraphale.

“I really thought he was going to kill me this time,”

“He won't. He's not gonna hurt you anymore. I won't allow it,” It was delusion that allowed Crowley to say such a statement so confidently, for what power did a 17 year old have against the mayor of the town, 30 years his senior? They were broken from their trance as Crowley’s dad and another man walked in, carrying a paramedics case.

“This is my friend, Dr Cox. He’ll look at you to see if everything is alright,” The man, Dr Cox, stepped further into the room, taking out various instruments. Aziraphale didn't relax, instead he sat up straighter, crawling as far back away as he could from the doctor as he watched on with wide eyes.

“The Dr Cox?” He said, his voice raspy but his panic evident in the phrase. The three men gave each other wary glances before Dr Cox straightened up from where he was hunched over and gave his best calming smile.

“That's me, now if you’d let me-” Aziraphale scurried back further into the backboard, like a prey trapped into a corner, the mouth of the wolf looming ominously closer.

“No no I can't-” He looked wildly between the two Crowley’s and the doctor, a primal fear taking over him as he shook, from either the pain or the panic.

“Aziraphale, please-” Crowley started but his head snapped to him and he clung onto him like a drowning man does a lifebuoy as the water soaks him to the bone.

“Father says he’s Death. I don't want to die, Crowley please don't let him kill me,” He rambled out in a crazed state.

“I can assure you, you are in safe hands with me. My specialisation is easing the pain of terminally ill patients, who knew they were dying when they came to me but I can promise you, I won't let you die,” Aziraphale shook his head, still distrusting the man, who gave a deadpanned look to his father, annoyance evident on his face.

“It’s okay angel,” He grabbed his face, tilting it towards his direction and couldn’t allow himself to think about how his skin was as cold as death. “He treats me and I'm still here, right?”

There was a tense pause, where the two men looked at the two boys. Crowley’s dad furrowed his eyebrows softly at the scene, a look of something slipping across his eyes. Crowley ignored him, focusing his attention to Aziraphale, who searched his face for signs of betrayal. Finding none, he softened and gave him a barely there nod and looked up at the doctor, who had moved to the other side of him.

“Great. I need to be alone with the patient,”

“No,” The words had barely left Dr Cox, before Crowley answered, shaking his head with  certainty as his grip grew tighter on Aziraphale.

“Anthony-” His dad stared but Crowley cut him off once more.

“No I'm not leaving him,” He said, looking at Aziraphale, whose eyes were full of gratitude but started to shut slowly as he wobbled back and forth. None in the room noticed as the father, son and doctor continued arguing.

“Young man, I need my space to work and I can't have someone distracting me,”

“I don't care. I promised-” His sentence was cut off by Aziraphale, falling limp backwards onto the bed like a corpse. “Holy shit, AZIRAPHALE!”

Dr Cox wasted no time, dragging his body towards him and unbuttoning his shirt to get a better look at his injuries. “He fainted. I don't know how much blood he’s lost or how bad his injuries are. You need to leave,” He said bluntly, his hands moving to perform unfamiliar procedures. Crowley didn’t let go, he instead shook him wildly, but Aziraphale lay as unresponsive as the dead.

“Angel! Angel wake up!” He was so focused on Aziraphale, he didn’t see Dr Cox gesture towards him and his dad storming up to him and dragging him backwards.

“Anthony come on,” Crowley thrashed in his dad’s grip, yelling incoherent swears wildly as he desperately reached for Aziraphale, whose torso was on full display and he caught the briefest glimpses of bruises, abrasions and cuts splattered along his normally smooth and pale skin.

“Let me go! Dad let me go!” He didn’t budge, his grip borderline digging into his skin as he pulled him out his room. The door shut in front of him and he watched as the distance between him and Aziraphale grew as his father continued walking away. “I need to get back in there!” He yanked at his grip, but his dad was stronger and refused to let go.

“No, you need to tell me why the hell Aziraphale Prince just came to our door looking like death itself!” His dad’s words flew over his head, too focused on getting to Aziraphale’s side again. He had caused this, with his stupid videos, and now he had broken his last promise and trust. He really was a demon.

“Please dad! This can wait,” He lunged forwards, which managed to move his dad a little bit, so he strengthened his efforts. His dad pulled him back again, turning them so he was between him and Aziraphale, his grip still just as tight.

“No it can't. Dr Cox needs his space to work, it will not help either of them if you are in there. Now tell me the truth,” his voice was full of authority, a voice he only ever put on in court to intimidate who was on the stand to tell the truth. Crowley glared into his eyes, as he panted with fury and despair. His father met his stare, reciprocating with his own, which withered Crowley’s confidence. He sighed, or growled, in defeat, allowing the fight in his to leave his body

“Fine! Fine whatever,” His dad dropped his arm and Crowley half wanted to sprint around him to get to his room, where Aziraphale was lying alone. But his dad took up the whole corridor, as if he could see what his son was planning. He sighed, he’d have to tell him sooner than later and his dad was right about Dr Cox needing his space. “You know at the beginning of the year, how I was enrolled into the tutoring program?”

His dad crossed his arms, tilting his head in confusion “Yes, thats doesn’t explain why-”

“Let me finish!” His dad raised an eyebrow at his tone, and he felt that fear all kids delt when they realised they had raised their voice at their parents. He licked his lips, taking in a deep breath before he continued. “You know how I told you this girl anathema was tutoring me?” he said, but refused to meet his dad’s eye.

“Yes?” 

“Well I… lied. It was Aziraphale, tutoring me,” His dad’s jaw dropped in anger, and just when he was about to reprimand his son, Crowley continued “At first, I wanted to tell you to get it sorted out, but you were away on a business trip and by the time you got back, I kinda started liking him. As a friend,” He added on at the end. If he could keep as much as possible secret, then he would. He felt like his father wasn’t privy to that part of him yet. His dad stared at him wide eyed, disbelief and anger in front of his eyes.

“So you mean to tell me, you’ve been lying to me for six months. Telling me that you are with this girl when you were with a fucking Prince ?” His dad shouted. Crowley cringed as he nodded guiltily.

“Yes,”

“So when you told me you were with Anathema, when you told me Anathema stopped by our house, when you told me Anathema wanted my limited edition copy of a book thought of as a myth , it was all Prince!” He yelled, waving his arms wildly to behind him, indicating at the boy being looked at by the doctor. Crowley paused for a moment, which grew longer and longer as his dad waited impatient for a response,

“Well…” He finally said.

His dad’s hands flew to his face, draggin across his face then up to clasp onto his short lock. “Oh my god!”

“I’m sorry I lied, but I didnt think youd be ecstatic if you knew we were friends!” Crowley said quickly, aware that he was in deep shit. His dad chuckled humorlessly.

“Yeah, neither was the person who did this,” He licked his teeth, in shock, at his son’s revelations and the state of the other boy. Crowley scoffed sarcastically and his dad’s gaze snapped towards him.

“I know. He knew he wouldn’t be either,” He said. His mind brought him back to all the times Aziraphale had warned him about his father. His mind brought him back to the first time he saw what his father did to him and how he was terrified of the consequences. His mind twisted the knife plunged through his heart, breaking it even more than he thought possible. He was pulled from his downward spiral by his dad’s words.

“So you know who it is,” He said calmly. Crowley whipped his head up at him.

“What?” He asked in surprise.

“You know who beat him up and left him like this?” His dad interrogated, andCrowley spotted his court voice once more.

He paused, the name of Aziraphale’s father on the tip of his tongue, but his brain reminded him of Aziraphale’s terror at anyone finding out who did this to him, unable to say it with Crowley himself. He had to protect his father, even if the thought left a bitter taste on his tongue. He had to protect him to protect Aziraphale, and he would do anything he could and more to protect Aziraphale.

“No,” He stated, looking away quickly to the door, hoping this was all one bad dream and Aziraphale would walk out that door and hug him and reassure him he was okay and that Crowley had saved him. But his dream shifted into a nightmare once again as he was reminded of the macabre truth as his dad spun him around by his shoulders to face him.

“Anthony, you've lied enough as it is. Tell me: Do you know who did this?” He demanded and Crowley's eyes flicked away, hoping he’d let it go. But his dad didn’t do as Crowley wished and continued to hold him in front of him. His resolve faded and he slumped under his grasp in defeat.

“Yes I know, but he promised me not to tell anyone!”

“So you want to protect someone who almost killed your… friend because he doesn't want anyone to know!?” His dad argued, and Crowley wanted to fight that logic but that’s exactly what he was doing. He would love nothing more than to tell his father the truth, to lock up that monster and throw away the key and let him rot for hurting Aziraphale. But he was the reason Aziraphale was like this, he had to honour his wishes, even if they made no sense to him.

“If I tell you, he’ll find him again, alright? You heard what he said, no hospitals or he’ll find him and finish the fucking job. He could've killed my best friend. I'm not letting it happen again,” His dad searched his face as he made his last resolve with confidence. His dad nodded slowly, realising he’s not going to get any further on this with his son. 

His body language closed off again, flicking between his son and the door, where the doctor was working soundlessly. “So you… and… Aziraphale, are friends,” He asked, but sounding less like a question and more a statement said in disbelief.

“Yes,”

“Just friends?” The way he said it, the way he was looking at him, sent shivers down Crowley’s spine. He gulped, making himself hold eye contact as he responded, despite the fact his hands grew sweaty and his heart picked up again.

“Yes,”

“Friends enough that he’d come to you instead of home after getting hurt?” He asked again with a questioning glance to the door, as he knew he wasn’t getting the full story, but Crowley was not idiot enough to confess to a crime he hadn’t been accused of yet.

“Yes and he needs to stay here,” 

His father gave him a quizzical look “Surely his father-”

“Absolutely not!” He shouted, making his father take a step back, metaphorical and physical, with wide eyes. He worried that his father would question him again, and he was fearful that he would crumple under his gaze, but by some miracle his father stepped back and nodded.

“Fine. He can stay,” He said courtly, his arms still crossed over his body as he scanned Crowley and his reaction.

“Thank you, dad,” He sighed with relief, but that relief was short-lived as his father gave him a sadistic grin.

“Don't go thank me yet. You're grounded,” Crowley’s jaw dropped with his heart as he finally tore his gaze away from the door for more than one second to respond to his father.

“What?! Why?!” He asked incredulous and his father gave him an obvious look

“You have been lying and sneaking behind my back for six months, Anthony, of course you're bloody grounded!”

“But it's half term!”

“And your mocks are next week. I don't know why you are angry at me, I think this is a perfectly reasonable reaction and you get your tutor for the whole week before your mocks!” Crowley was about to respond when the door flew open and Dr Cox stepped out with a dark expression that made Crowley’s heart stop.

“How is he?” He heard his dad ask.

“He woke up briefly but he’s asleep right now. He told me he walked from his side to here. He did this all with a twisted ankle, a sprained hand, a broken nose and bruised ribs,” He replied professionally, looking at the both of them as he gave them the news .

“So is he okay?” Crowley asked, petrified for the response. Time seemed to slow down to a half a second and it felt like an eternity when Dr Cox finally responded.

“He will be. If anything, it's a miracle that his injuries are what they are. They could’ve been a lot worse,” 

A miracle. He called this a miracle? He called, Aziraphale delirious and in agony and on the brink if death a fucking miracle. Crowley wasn’t just angry, he was furious that that happened and that this stupid doctor called it a miracle. A real miracle would be Aziraphale’s father not being an abusive asshole that killed his son for being different, 

He welcomed that familiar injustice-fueled rage when thinking of Aziaphale’s father. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t right. He wanted to yell and hit something more than he ever did as the doctor’s words left a bitter and sour taste on his tongue.

“Can you tell what happened?” His dad asked, keeping his composure far better than Crowley was.

“There happens to be some boot-shaped bruises over his torso mainly, which led me to believe someone either kicked him or stomped on him repeatedly. The bruising around his neck indicates someone strangled him for a long period of time and his arms suggest he was thrown onto a rough surface. My guess is the pavement or the street,”

“My god,” His dad uttered, both of them feeling sick to their stomachs.

“I’ve done all I can, but I really encourage you to bring him to the hospital so I can treat him properly,” Dr Cox encouraged, and both Crowleye’s nodded solemnly, aware that Aziraphale appearing in the public eye like this would only bring more harm than good.

“Thank you, Brian,” His dad said, shaking his hand with gratitude. Dr Cox turned away bashfully.

“It’s no problem. Really,” Dad’s demeanour shifted, standing straighter and shifting his expression which only meant one thing for Alestair Crowley.

“I’m sure that you are aware that we are relying on your confidence in keeping this underwraps,” All three males understood his innuendo, and they all sat up straighter as the atmosphere shifted into something more tense.

“Of course,” Dr Cox replied, his eyes hosting s secret and silent conversation in a language Crowley was not yet fluent in.

“Let’s talk in my office,” His dad said, giving him a forced smile that assured an invisible witness ‘everything was fine and nothing weird is going on ’.

The two men floated down the corridor, their conversation drifting into hushed whispers. Crowley looked at them turn the corner, his dad giving him a quick look that meant ‘make yourself scarce’. Crowley looked up at the door, gulping quietly as baseless fear took over him. He wanted to get back in there, he thrashed and fought with every ounce of his being a mere half an hour ago, but now he was frozen in the spot.

He slowly turned the handle down, letting the door swing open by itself. His breath caught in his throat as a fresh wave of nausea washed over him once more. Aziraphale was topless and under the covers, where the bruises on his throat and upper half were on full display. He was laying peacefully on his back, his expression one of eternal peace that Crowley only saw when he wasn’t thinking about his dad or his home or their relationship being exposed. It made Crowley sick to think that these were the things that made him look like this on his bed. It was paradoxical and confusing, but he was just glad he was breathing and alive.

He slowly dragged his legs to the side of his bed, pulling in his desk chair to sit beside him and grab his hand. He wasn’t as cold anymore and Crowley reassured himself that he was alive by watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, indicating he was breathing and wasn’t dying. His fingers found his pulse by his wrist, and he allowed himself to sit there as the steady pulse bumped blood under his fingers.

Another wave of shame and guilt washed over him, as he was reminded that it was Crowley's fault he was like this. It was his and those video’s and the stupid bet’s fault. And to think Aziraphale wanted to film another today after what they did. It would’ve been the last straw, and Crowley was unsure whether Aziraphale would’ve made it to his house alive, or if he would’ve collapsed and the news had found his body before he did.

What made no sense to him was the fact he was fine not even 5 hours ago. He wasn’t just fine, he was happy and peaceful and it had all been ruined by the man who was supposed to care for him and love him the most. What would have happened if Aziraphale hadn’t forgotten his phone today? What would’ve happened if he stayed with Crowley instead of going home? Would he be laying, half dead on Crowley’s bed, or would he be on his bed texting Crowley, blissfully unaware of the fate he had just escaped?

Crowley’s grip tightened around his hand, as if he was afraid holding it too loose would mean he would fly away. “I’m right here, angel. I'm not leaving you ever again,”

Chapter Text

Rise. Fall

The room was deathly quiet. Soft warm rays peaked through Crowley’s blinds, a rare sight to see in mid-February when the rest of the outside was covered in a thin layer of frost. Crowley’s clothes felt heavy on him, as he adjusted slightly to ease his aching back. His hair laid flat on his head, and he knew that if he were to run his fingers through it, they would get stopped by several knots and would feel greasy to the touch. And yet he didn’t move from his position beside the bed, no matter how gross or sticky he felt, and just watched Aziraphale breath like he had done for the past two days.

Rise. Fall

In his mind, he knew Aziraphale was alright. He rested undisturbed during the night. He didn’t scare Crowley with sudden seizures or didn’t stop breathing out of nowhere, but the steady rise and fall of his chest calmed him down before his brain had any chance to come up with more horrible scenarios. He stroked the back of his hand softly with his thumb, often laying his fingers over the pulse point to check he was still alive. Despite the breathing and despite the heartbeat, Aziraphale lay frozen and still like the dead.

Rise. Fall

Crowley’s head shot up as the door to his room creaked open. His dad filled up the doorway, leaning against it with his arms crossed. He had a disappointed look on his face as he flicked from his son to the boy sleeping peacefully. He sighed deeply, his frown making his moustache also turn downwards.

“Still asleep?” He asked despite having a clear view of the sleeping boy. Crowley didn’t comment, only nodded solemnly whilst never taking his eyes off his chest. Rise. Fall.

“Yep,” He continued holding onto his hand, watching his thumb move in a circle. His dad scanned the scene with an analytic stare, letting the science fill the space before speaking once more.

“Don’t you think it's time you left him for a bit?” Crowley was already shaking his head stubbornly at his question, his grip tightening as he kept focusing on Aziraphale. Rise. Fall.

“No. No, I can't leave him. I promised him I’d be here,”

“He’s asleep, Anthony. I doubt you being here now is helping him or reassuring him,” His dad tried reasoning with him, but Crowley refused, feeling no less moved to leave Aziraphale alone

“But what if he wakes up and I'm not there again? He’ll worry and think I left him-” His dad cut him off before he continued his panicked rambling.

“Anthony, he’s been asleep for two days. It is half term, you shouldn't spend every second in here with him,” Crowley scoffed, and finally tore his gaze from where Aziraphale was sleeping to meet his dad’s gaze. He felt that familiar frustration and rage he felt since Aziraphale collapsed in his arms swell up inside him once more.

“Well this is my room. And I don’t know if you remember but you grounded me so it's not like i can go hang out with Hastur and them lot,” He argues, letting his voice slip into a sarcastic tone not long enough for his father to be unable to reprimand him for it but enough to receive a scolding look.

“I’m not asking you to go out. I‘m asking you to take care of yourself. When's the last time you had a shower?” He asked, crossing his arms in front of him again as he began his interrogation.

“Dad!” Was all Crowley managed to say as he rolled his eyes to land back to Aziraphale. Rise. Fall

“Or the last time you brushed your teeth?”

“It doesn’t matter!” He said, raising his voice to stop his dad’s questions.

“It does matter because Prince is just going to faint again if he smells you,” He said, a teasing grin making an appearance on his father’s face but did nothing to lift Crowley’s spirit, only further infuriating him.

“You’re being dramatic,” He responded, which resulted in the easy smile to vanish from his dad’s face and be replaced with a serious expression.

No, I’m making sure you take care of yourself, because that's my job,” Crowley just rolled his eyes, feeling very brave and confident he was going to be shouted at for his rude behaviour. He was right, as his dad didn’t yell, but he sighed in a disappointed tone and his eyes became fixed on his son as his idea was placed firmly in his mind. “And in order for you to do so, I have to sometimes use drastic measures,”

“What are you talking about?” He groaned, pulling his eyes back to his dad. His dad stood straight in the doorway, sliding his hands in his pockets, looking like the imposing, ominous lawyer the media often portrayed him as.

“For example, I’m making it a rule that you cant see Prince anymore,” Crowley’s jaw dropped and he leant back to sit as straight as he could.

“What!?”

“Well, as you so nicely reminded me, you're grounded. That means you can't go and see your friends, even if they've been asleep here for the past two days,” His dad said smugly, not allowing his son’s outraged expression to move him.

“This is bullshit! I can't not see him! He lives here!” Crowley exclaimed, which pulled one of his dad’s hands out of his pockets to point at him warningly as his expression shifted into one of authority.

“Don't swear at me and it’s not bullshit. I make the rules and I say for an hour, you can't be in this room with him,” He raised his eyebrows, but Crowley just leant back, his arms crossed over his chest as he shook his head defiantly.

“No,”

“Don’t make this difficult, Anthony. An hour, or however long it takes for you to take a nap. Or a shower,” Crowley bit the inside of his lip, his gaze periodically flicking between his dad and Aziraphale, who was still fast asleep. His dad sighed deeply, a look of pity creasing his face. “Seriously, Anthony I mean it,”

There was a pause, where neither of them moved, until Crowley took a deep breathe in “What if-”

“Look, I'll stay right here, alright? That case, if anything happens, which nothing has for the past two days, he won't be alone. Now you go take a shower and I will be here to look after your friend,” His dad cut him off, moving beside him and forcibly removing him from where he was sitting and placing himself there. Crowley sighed in defeat.

“Fine. But if anything happens-”

“I’ll call you straight away,” His dad reassured him. Hesitantly, Crowley gave one last glance at the sleeping boy before leaving the room behind him.

His dad rubbed his face with exhaustion. He was content that he finally managed to remove Crowlet from the room, but unease still seeped into his chest. He looked down at the youngest Prince, his mind still unable to comprehend that a Prince was in the heart of his household.

Aziraphale Prince, from Aleistar’s perspective, was the very model of what a Prince looked like. Obedient, studious, good. So to see this part of him, his face swollen with bruises by an unknown attacker, his brow, now relaxed, which showed it had previously always been furrowed in fear, threatened to disbalance Aleister’s world view. 

His mind raced with a million thoughts a second. Who did this to him? Why did he come here? When did he become friends with his son? All questions he craved the answer to but received nothing 

He took his phone from his pocket, scrolling through the endless emails he got every day, despite the fact he was off work today. Monotonous cases stared back before him, and his mind was soon occupied by the thousand clients he had to deal with. He was too preoccupied to notice the young man stirring awake.

“Crowley?” He slurred, his eyes sticking together and making it difficult for them to open. Aleistair’s head whipped up from where he was reading, shock and surprise widening his eyes.

“Close. How are you feeling?” Aziraphale twisted his head, confusion making him take up his surroundings. However, the second he recognised the moustached face, his eye sprang open, and he threw himself up from where he was laying down “Woah it's alright! Take it easy, don't want you to hurt yourself even more!” He was panting, like an animal trapped in the corner, his head thrashing wildly around him.

“Where’s Crowley?” Aleister’s put his hands up, a cautious but comforting look on his face as Aziraphale continued to regard him with fear

“He's just taking a shower. He'll be back in a moment,” Aziraphale gulped, his body relaxing slightly, but the distance never closed

“Oh,”

“Before you start being mad at him, I forced him to take it. He hasn’t left your side since Saturday,” Crowley’s dad slowly put his arms down, noticing that Aziraphaole wasn’t going to make any spontaneous movements. The young man looked around him, recognition in his eyes darkening to confusion once more

“Saturday? What day is it today?”

“It’s Monday 17th. You've been asleep two days,”

Aziraphale sat up straighter, as if he was going to get out of the bed. “Two days?!”

An arm shot out and Aleister gently grabbed his arm and guided him into the bed, noting the way he flinched instinctively but choosing not to comment. “It's alright. Dr Cox informed us that you'd be out for a while. Your injuries, although miraculously not as bad as they could've been, have taken a heavy toll on your body, and it needs rest to recover,” Aziraphale gulped, and finally sank lower into the bed, evident that even the small amount of movement has tried him out. He peered up with cautious eye, uncertainty and fear still present in them

“Has he..?” His questions trailed off, but Aleister didn’t need him to finish it.

“He hasn't told anyone. I've made sure of it,” The relief was instantaneous and obvious, as if it hadn’t even crossed Aziraphale’s mind to care about his own well being before his attackers. Aleister regarded with judgmental eyes for a second, unseen by Aziraphale.

“Thank you, sir,” Aleister nodded silently, the air turning awkward and tense. The older man cleared his throat, catching Aziraphale’s attention. 

“It’s no problem. I'll go get Anthony, tell him you've woken up,” 

“Thank you,” An instinctual joy lightened his face at the sound of his son’s name. He nodded silently once more, licking his lips before moving up.

Except he didn’t move far before he fell back into the chair he was sitting on. “Can I ask you a few questions before I do?” He asked rather quickly. The young Prince’s eyes widened for a moment as his head shook in surprise.

“Erm… sure,”

He smiled as reassuringly as possible, but Aziraphale got the distinct feeling he was staring a great white shark in the eye. “Great. How is it you know Crowley?”

His eyebrows shot up, a small but omnipresent panic returning to his eyes as he stammered his way through an explanation. “Oh, well I got assigned as his tutor at the beginning of the year, and although we didn't start off on the right foot, we eventually set our differences aside and became friends,” Aleister nodded, his eyes narrowed slightly, his hand grasped under his chin.

“I see,” He said, dragging out the one syllable. “Just friends?”

That’s when Aziraphale’s face was gripped in fear, his eyes almost watering at the suggestion of something more. Did he know? Did Crowley tell him? Could he see the filth on him like his own father and priest could? “Yes sir. Nothing more,” He confirmed quickly, too quickly as Crowley’s dad’s gaze didn’t let up and he continued to scan him.

“Huh. Anthony told me the same and I’m guessing the person who did this to you doesn't necessarily like that you two were friends,” He let out a better sound, refusing to meet his eye as he fiddled with a small pinky ring “Can you tell me who did this?”

Aziraphale’s eyes were wide, wide open with anxiety as he lifted his head to meet his faze again. Habit the inside of his lip, as if debating whether to speak or not. Aleister was so close to the answers he wanted, he could see the words forming in his mouth just before he shook his, tearing he glance downwards once more 

“I can’t,”

“It’s alright. You're safe here. I just don't want the man who did this get away with it. You can tell me,” Aziraphale continued to shake his head, the words not processing in his brain, as if the concept of safety was a foreign language he didn’t speak.

“He’ll get mad at me,” He whispered, his voice cracking as memories of that night came flooding back. The way his throat constricted, the way his arms were torn open by being thrown onto the ragged pavement.

“More than he already was when he hurt you?” Aleister said, tilting his head to try and meet his gaze

“He would never hurt me,” The response came automatically, something engraved and carved into his head. Rules he had broken but refused to let go taking over him, reverting him to a safer time where he followed blindly and was never shown sun.

“Prince, I hate to say it but he already has,” He was so close just a bit more. Aziraphale had squeezed his eyes, phantom memories plaguing him, his head shaking with refusal, his mind and body shutting down at the intrusion to the delusion he was fine.

“It’s my fault anyways. I deserve this. I knew the rules and broke them anyway,” He was almost rocking back and forth, like a child who had to grow up too fast craving the comfort of his childhood.

“Whose rules? Who did this-” Aleister didn’t have time to finish his question because the door banged open and his son stood in the middle of the open doorway.

“I know you said to take a nap, but I literally can't fall asleep- Angel!” Aleister let his head fall downwards in annoyance, while both boys met each other’s eyes.

“Crowley,” Crowley ran to his side, not acknowledging his dad. Any stress and panic in Aziraphale left, and he took in the other boy, reaching out to him as he got closer to the bed.

“When did you wake up? Are you okay? Does anything hurt? Why didn't you call me?” On the last question, he finally looked up to his dad, he was watching the whole exchange carefully. He was taken out of his passive role and responded quickly to his son.

“He woke up now. I was just about to,”

“Really? ‘Cus it didn't seem like it,” Crowley said, his eyes narrowing as his voice was laced with sarcasm.

“I was, Anthony. Don't take that tone with me,”

Crowley pursed his lips, annoyance still evident on his face “Sorry,” He said rather bitterly.

“I suspect there's no way I can get you out of here and into a shower?” His dad asked deadpanned, and he shook his head confidently, settling onto the empty space on the bed next to Aziraphale, who was flicking his eyes between both Crowleys.

“Nope,” 

Aleister sighed, looking at both of them at the same time, dull acceptance making his head nod slowly. “Just promise me you'll do it later,”

“I will,” His dad didn’t move immediately, instead biting the inside of his cheek and clicking his tongue quietly. He groaned while getting up, walking to the door, and closing it behind him with one last glance behind him. The two boys watched him leave before turning their attention to each other, relief replacing tension as they were no longer being watched.

“How are you feeling?” Crowley asked, shuffling closer to him.

“Sore. Tired. But better than before,”

“Thank god. I'm sorry for leaving. Dad didn't want me in here with Dr Cox and then he forced me to-” He started, but was stopped by a gentle hand on his arm, catching his attention.

“It’s fine. You’re here now, that's all that matters,” Aziraphale managed a small smile, one that Crowley returned freely. He gulped as he searched his face for any sign of discomfort, ignoring the dark pit in his stomach at the sight of his bruises.

“Did he say anything to you?” He asked as calmly as possible. Aziraphale inhaled a small gust of air, his eyebrows shooting up for a second. He turned his head, watching the other boy from the corner of his eye.

“He asked me about us. I… I couldn’t tell him,” His voice trailed off and broke, and pity grew deep in Crowley’s heart. He placed a hand on his shoulder, stroking it gently but Aziraphale froze at his touch.

“It’s alright angel. I didn't expect you to,”

“He also asked about who did this,” He said vaguely, but Crowley didn’t need him to finish off his sentence. A sour scoff left his mouth as Aziraphale continued looking down.

“I’m guessing you didn't say anything then as well, huh?” He said with a witty humour creasing his face. Aziraphale didn’t share his enthusiasm, instead an indignant and bitter expression twisted his face.

“He’s still my father and I have a duty to him as his son,” Crowley arched an eyebrow, the mood in the room shifting into a dark place.

“That’s rubbish and you know it,”

“Exodus 20:2-17. 5th Commandment: Thou shalt honour thy father and mother-” Aziraphale said, robotically, instantaneously, like a soldier reverting back to basic training as hails of bullets fly past him.

“Aziraphale…” Crowley said softly, leaning back as Aziraphale continued his dissociative ramble of proverbs and verses.

“Deuteronomy 5:16 Honor your father and your mother, as the Lord your God has commanded you, so that you may live long and that it may go well with you in the land the Lord your God is giving you,” His pace nd breath picked up, his body rocking back and forth as his eyes glazed over with a million verses unknown to Crowley. He grabbed his arm, which successfully, even if it was for a single moment, broke Aziraphale out of his trance, and finally made Aziraphale look at him.

“Aziraphale, stop it. You do not have to honour that pathetic excuse for a man when he nearly fucking killed you,” He spoke quickly, worry and concern evident for the other boy.

“Proverbs 23:13-14, do not withhold discipline from a child if you strike him with a rod, he will not die,” Crowley shook his head, the holy words not reaching his ears, hearing a condemning rather than blessing.

“Aziraphale, all that is bullshit,” Aziraphale was still firmly in his grip, as Crowley tried to shake him out whatever the hell was going on. Aziraphale’s focus narrowed, sending a chill down Crowley’s spine, as if he was in front of those damned pearly gates being judged for his sins.

“No, its the Bible and the Bible is the word and message of the Lord,” He said venomously, and Crowley was thrown back in time, back to early September, where Aziraphale wasn’t his, he belonged to the Lord and he laid entangled in his grip, unaware that it was love he was feeling, it was suffocation and it was slowly killing him.

“But-” Aziraphale didn’t let him finish, and he wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or grateful, as his mind came up with blanks in ways he could get his Aziraphale back.

“This is all my fault. I deserved this,” He punched out slowly, and neither of the boys knew whose heart was breaking more at the sound of every word. Instinctively, Crowley cupped his face, and a wild look of misplaced panic spread across his face and he stiffened as if he had turned to stone at his touch.

“You don't deserve this. No one bloody deserves this. No one, let alone a child, should go through what you have. If anything, this is my fault,” And there it was, the softening expression and a flicker of his Aziraphale was back. He was just hiding behind his eyes, like a scared child, hiding the truth from his parents in case they’re disappointed.

“Crowley, no-”

“No, it is,” He cut him off before he had even begun to speak. He sighed out, the silent weight of guilt now crushing him. “It was my idea to film the videos. If I never did, then this wouldn't have happened,” He chewed the inside of his lip, his eyes creasing with sorrow.

“But I chose to do the things in the video. I knew the Bible forbade them and I did them anyway,” He said reassuringly, but it was Crowley’s turn to be vulnerable, and thoughts he hadn’t let himself think about were now at the forefront of his mind.

“Only because I made you as emotional blackmail for the phone in the first place,”

“You're being dramatic,” Aziraphale declared. He scoffed, pulling away from Aziraphale with a look of outrage.

“Dramatic? I think I'm reacting perfectly reasonably here. What, do you wish you never did them in the first place?” He shouted, his face flush and hot.

“Of course I do!” He shouted back instantaneously. Both boys looked into each other’s eyes, as the words lingered in the space between them. Crowley’s face fell, scanning Aziraphale for signs of untruth.

“So you regret them?” He asked almost inaudibly.

Aziraphale sighed sourly, his face turning away as he spoke. “It's what got me like this, aren't they?” Crowley watched silently, shame replacing his rage.

“Do you regret being with me?” He felt numb as the sudden realisation of the words hit him hard and fast.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale turned around, and something in his chest twisted at the sight of Crowley, who looked like a shell of himself the more insecurities and self doubt clouded his mind.

“Because, if you regret everything we did together, then you regret being with me,” 

“It's not like that,” He tried moving towards him but Crowley flinched back, unable to meet his eye as his vision blurred with stubborn tears.

“Isn't it?”

“No!”

“So you regret it, but still come here to save yourself. Which is it, Aziraphale? Do you want your fathers approval or mine?” He yelled bitterly, and Aziraphale scowled.

“I don't know! Stop yelling at me! You don't know what it feels like, to grow up a certain way, only to end up like your exact worst fear. It's like this-this constant pressure and guilt on my chest, knowing that no matter how hard you try, you will never be good enough. You'll never be pure enough,” He rambled quickly, his voice rising again as he finally vocalised what was happening in his head.

“I know in my head that I'm behaving irrationally and crazy but it's not a delusion! It's what I know and it's what I was brought up on. It's like my heart can't seem to let go of my past, even if my brain wants to move forward. And right now I need something familiar that I’ve always relied on. I know you don’t get religion, but for me, it’s what I need right now!”

Crowley sighed, looking down as unidentifiable feelings and unintelligible worries flooded him. Aziraphale turned away, but he could see from the way his shoulders were shaking that silent tears were ruining his face.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn't have yelled. I was just scared. It's just…” His voice broke in a way that would have resulted in weeks of humiliation if any of his friends had heard it. Instead, Aziraphale spun back around to face him slowly, actually taking in Crowley’s broken face. His face scrunched up, trying his hardest not to cry and he stubbornly refused to let tears form or fall. He sighed shakily, unable to look Aziraphale in the eye as he continued speaking.

“You were okay, like, 5 hours before, and I can’t stop thinking about what would've happened if I stayed with you. If I could’ve saved you and then I would get reminded that you were dying right in front of me and there was nothing I could do,”

The air sat stale between them, neither boy knowing how to deal with the insurmountable emotions that threatened to break the precariously thin thread that held them afloat. Aziraphale wiped his face, shifting his body with inaudible groans towards Crowley.

“I’m sorry,” Was all he said, and Crowley’s face broke into an exasperated smile.

“Don't be sorry. You're the one who went through it all. I'm just being dramatic,” 

Aziraphale grabbed his hand, which forced Crowley to look up, making it very hard for him not to cry, but he swallowed down any sort of sob or cry. “No, no, it's not dramatic. To see someone you care about like that. I should've thought about that,” Crowley allowed himself to feel that glimmer of hope as it bloomed in his chest as Aziraphale rested his hand atop his own. Another rueful laugh left his mouth as he stared at their intertwined hands.

“Now we’re both being sappy,” He said, referencing their conversation they held in this very room all the way back to the early days of February. Thankfully, Aziraphale remembered, and his very own erosion of a broken smile creased his face and that was when Crowley realised his Aziraphale was back. The Aziraphale that would make thunderstorms turn into a summer’s day with his presence alone was back, and he could forget that that ugly abrasion and bruise on his face was there at all.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, leaning in as he did. Aziraphakle leant back, pausing Crowley’s movements as his eyebrows furrowed down slightly.

“I…” He started, staring at his face with a look of a broken man. Crowley sighed, his shoulders slouching as he stared into Aziraphale’s eyes that were full of fear.

“You can't,”

Aziraphale shook his head with a look of defeat “No. No, not right now,”

“But why? You told me that you know it's all in your head,” He sighed, looking down at his hands, his eyes distant and blurry with tears

“I know that. I simply can't help but feel… dirty,”

“Dirty?” Crowley repeated, almost incredulously.

“It's like, no matter how hard I scrub myself, I'm covered in filth. I’m filth…”

“You're not filth!” Crowley said, trying to interrupt him, but Aziraphale began to sway, his chest rising and falling as a sense of overwhelmingness took over him 

“…and I cant get it off me and someone is always yelling at me about it and I can’t stop feeling like this, this sinful pervert that deserves to rot-” Crowley grabbed his hands, breaking Aziraphale from his decent and whipping his head back up, almost as if he remembered there was another person in the room.

“Okay okay okay! Relax. I'm not trying to be invalidating or anything, but that's bullshit because how can someone as angelic as you be a sinner? It may feel like that, but I can assure you are the least filthy thing I know.,” Aziraphale’s eyebrows creased upwards, his mouth parting slowly as if the thought that he isn’t scum hadn’t crossed his mind in a very long time “You are kind and you are smart and you deserve only happiness in this world and if some dumb dickhead can't comprehend that because of who you like, then that's on them, not you!”

There was a moment of pause, where the only sounds heard were Aziraphale’s small exhales of disbelief before he spoke up again “You really think that?” Crowley nodded ferociously.

“Of course I do, angel. You're the best thing to happen to me, and unless the universe is playing some awful trick on me, it wouldn't send me defective goods,” He managed to pull out a small chuckle, which eased the heavy weight on his chest by a little

“Thank you,”

“Do you feel better?” He asked, and to his relief, he nodded slightly, a sad smile on his face.

“Kind of. That feeling didn't really leave but it backed off a little. Not as overwhelming anymore,” 

“Oh,”Crowley frowned, feeling the constant uneasiness returning. Azirapphale felt the change in atmosphere as he quickly spoke again to correct himself.

“I don't think this is something you can help with, my dear. I think I just need time,” Crowley pursed his lips, but nodded comfortingly.

“Of course. I can do that,” Aziraphale grabbed his hand, rubbing small circles on the back of his hand with his thumb.

“Thank you for saving me,”

Chapter Text

The Crowley household was… weird. Not in the usual sense, mind you, but for Aziraphale it was definitely something different than what he was used to. It’s been 2 days since he woke up and in those 2 days, his entire world view had shifted. For one, the Crowleys were relaxed, very relaxed, so relaxed that he automatically woke up at 7:30 am because that’s what he was taught by…

It doesn’t matter now, does it? It was pointless as well because both Crowley's absolute forbade him from leaving the bed. He’s been caught a couple of times, mainly by Crowley, but what really scared him was when he was caught by his father, and all but ran back to bed - which he thoroughly regretted as he felt its effects on his body almost instantaneously - to avoid being told off. 

And on top of that, because he was confined to his bed, he was made to have his meals in bed, something that he never even dreamed of. It didn’t even happen whenever he was sick at home. He was just expected to get out of bed and join the family like his…

He lifted the bowl to his lips, quietly taking in Crowley’s babbles but not really listening to what he had to say. The hot liquid burnt his taste buds, leaving a weird texture on his tongue. Crowley had something playing on the computer in front of him, but it was simply there to fill in the empty spaces whenever things turned awkward. It didn’t happen much, but it happened enough times to make it uncomfortable. Crowley was giving him space, like he asked, but in doing so, he distanced himself in a way Aziraphale disliked. He didn’t bring it up, but he was very aware of the quick glances downwards or the glazed eyes that he came to realise meant that Crowley was thinking about them.

He enjoyed Crowley’s company, no matter how sterile things had become between them, and tried his best to not appear weak in front of him. He had embarrassed himself enough these past couple days, and he felt that any and all progress he made to not look frail in front of Crowley had all but disappeared. He wasn’t really sure what they were talking about before he registered a knock at the door. He turned away from Crowley, who stopped mid sentence and paused the audio from the computer to welcome the person in. From around the door, Crowley’s father’s head peaked through, slowly pushing the door more open and filling up the space in a way that ensured Aziraphale couldn’t see the corridor behind him.

“Hi sir. The soup was really good but I’m more than capable of coming down for an actual meal. There’s no need to bring it up,” Aziraphale placed his empty bowl on the tray beside him that rested on the bedside table. Mr Crowley looked down, his expression almost bashful but unreadable for Aziraphale.

“It’s alright. Dr Cox has told you to be on bed rest so there’s no point in you coming down. But it’s… erm, it’s not why I’m up here,” Aziraphale shared a look with Crowley, who shrugged his shoulders with confusion “There’s someone here to see you,” Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed. Despite all rational thought, his heart began its familiar race, and for a horrible, sinking moment, he thought he might see his father. That he’d somehow found him and was going to punish him even more by going to Crowley’s house. He kept his face as neutral as possible as Mr Crowley stepped to his side and his breath got caught in his throat.

“Mum?” His mother’s eyes widened, placing the overflowing box she was carrying to the floor before she ran to his side.

“Darling. Oh, thank the Lord! Are you alright?” She asked him, cupping his face with her hands but his mind was swimming with thoughts, scanning her face in shock.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“That’s not important right now. Are you alright?” She dismissed him. He looked to his side, where Crowley had stood up from the bed and was standing watching the whole exchange. His gaze kept flicking to the three people around him, his eyes wide with confusion and shock.

“Y-yeah. I am now,”

“Oh thank God!” She exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him. He laid still, watching Crowley’s dad gesture towards him and guide him gently out the room.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” He said, and closed the door before Aziraphale had time to protest. As the door shut, his mother seemed to hold him tighter and it was then that he allowed himself to return the hug, burying his head against the crook of her neck. Her perfume hit filled his nose and he was brought to his house, and the thousand previous times his father had laid hands on him and his mother was left to comfort him.

She pulled back, stoking a curl away from his face, probably taking in the greenish purple bruising visible on his face, which allowed him to notice her heavily makeuped face, which could only mean one thing.

“I was so worried. I didn’t hear anything from the news and your father forbade me from calling hospitals but it had been days since I heard anything and I didn’t know where you were or if you were-” she cut herself off, diving instead into another hug but the word dead hung between them like a noose.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think to call and-” He didn’t know what else to say. Of course he hadn’t thought of calling, and suddenly the all-too-familiar guilt came crashing down.

“No. No, you did nothing wrong. Don’t you worry, my miracle,” His eyes scanned her face, finally taking in the scarf she was still wearing. He pulled it down without thinking, and caught sight of the bruising before she jerked back and fixed it again. His face fell, unable to look away in morbid fascination.

“This is all my fault,” He said in a monotonous tone, his eyes glazed over with shame. His mother grabbed his hand, pulling it close to her chest forcing his gaze towards her

“No, it isn't,” She interrupted, but he barely heard her complaint.

“He shouldn't have hurt you,”

“That's not for you to worry,” He caressed his face comfortingly, and Aziraphale allowed himself to feel safe and forget where he was and how he got there. In that moment, he was back to being his mother’s baby, and he didn’t feel like the world was against him.

“How did you find me?” He asked quietly, as if he was under a trance he wasn’t fully conscious of.

“Like I said, no hospitals had called and nothing was on the news so I thought you must've gone somewhere you thought was trustworthy enough to not tell the press. I thought of the church at first, but after everything you went through that day, I figured you’d come here. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't,” Another unspoken thought laid between them. What would she have done, if her son wasn’t here, still out in the unknown? It was a thought neither of them wanted to think about.

“Why are you here?” He asked innocently enough, but his mother’s posture became stiff and something changed.

“To check up on you, mainly, but there's other reasons I'm here,” He took a look behind her, turning his attention to the box she came in with. He made a gesture with his head, his arms still sore and achy to lift up to point.

“Is that one of them?” She turned to see where he was pointing at and nodded. She wordlessly got up and brought the box to where he was sitting on the bed. Inside, he could see a couple of clothes poking through and several books or mini decorations he recognised from his room.

“Your father was in one of his moods and he wasn't thinking rationally. This was all I could save. I thought you might want some of this back,” She didn’t elaborate more than that but that was enough to turn the mood sour. He wondered passively what had happened to his other stuff if one small cardboard box was all she managed to save. She reached in, pulling a couple items to the top, his eyes recognising each and everyone.

“I don't remember these in your collection,” She said, gesturing mainly to two of the books she brought up, one of them being Carroll’s personal copy of his book Alice In Wonderland . He picked it up, wary that he probably should be wearing gloves in order to handle such a precious artefact.

“That’s Mr Crowley’s,” He said, managing to pull his eyes from the cover to meet his mother’s gaze. She smiled softly, regarding the book with some emotional distance he couldn’t quite explain yet.

“I figured. I think I’d remember if we bought you a book worth thousands,” He chuckled nervously, placing it beside him gently as far away from the tray of food still lying on the bedside table as his mother picked up the other book which made his heart stop for a beat.

“And this? The hand writing isn't yours,” The annotated copy of The Picture Of Dorian Gray was examined under his mother’s gaze. A flush of embarrassment coloured his cheeks, aware that his mother was holding something directly influenced by Crowley. It felt scandalous and wrong to see his mother holding it.

“It isn't,” He admitted, as he saw no point in lying as he was sure his face gave away its importance to him. His mother pursed her lips, speaking whilst never tearing her eyes from the book

“It's his, isn't it?” She didn’t say his name explicitly, but Aziraphale understood what she was implying. He gulped, nodding once

“Christmas present,” His mother regarded him carefully, a look of something in her eyes. Maybe she was expecting a different date, but there was no valour in lying about something that had to come light eventually.

“Was this a Christmas present as well?” She inquired, bullying out something he’d thought he’d never see again: His phone. The screen was cracked, and he assumed his father had gotten his hands on it before his mother could, but he reached out and it blinked alive, and he was met with the photo of them on the ferris wheel.

“No. He got that for me earlier,” She nodded silently, handing the phone over, just watching him look at the photo for an uncomfortable amount of time until she finally sighed, looking around Crowley’s room.

“So. Crowley?” She asked. Aziraphale felt that previous embarrassment return, turning away shyly from his mother,

“Yeah,”

“When… when did that happen?” She asked, her expression pained and hurt. Suddenly, Aziraphale wasn’t feeling timidness, but shame.

“Since September. We became more on New Years,” He confessed, as his mother let out a bitter and defeated huff, her teeth grinding behind her pursed lips.

“6 months. You've been lying to me for 6 months,” It was phrased like a question but required no answer. Aziraphale was filled with her disappointment, and he returned a child again, this time not being comforted but insulted as a broken vase laid beside him.

“Mum, I had to-”

“I don't understand, when would you see him? You spend all your free time with Newton and I doubt you'd be willing to talk to him in lessons where everyone could see,” Aziraphale bowed his head in shame, his eyes squeezing shut as he forced the truth to pass his lips.

“Mum, it's not Newt I've been hanging out with,” He couldn’t meet her eye, but he could picture her face of betrayal as the words clicked in her head and her voice shook out a sigh.

“Oh. But his mother-”

“-was in on it. We knew father would be okay with me going with Newt because he's more towards us but wouldn't tell on me,” Her eyes fluttered shut, looking anywhere but her son.

“You came up with it with him?” She asked, her voice resigned and dripping with disappointment that crushed Aziraphale’s soul.

“Yeah,” Another silence stretched between them, where neither mother nor son could look at each other. Aziraphale’s heart was stuck in his throat and even if he had words he wished to say, he wasn’t sure if they would come out without being full of uncertainty.

“And you.. you love him?” Yes , his heart screamed, unable to pick up its pace just by the thought of him. He loved Crowley, more than he cared to admit.

“Are you mad?” He responded instead, letting the unspoken tell his truth. His mother sighed, clasping her hands together as they laid in her lap.

“Well I…actually I knew,” She muttered, causing Aziraphale to whip his head up to look at his mother in shock.

“What?” He exclaimed, searching for an explanation in his mother’s expression.

“Before that night, I heard you,” Her face twisted in embarrassment and pain, which caused him to furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

“What do you mean?” His mother gave him a side-long look, her face a slightly red colour as she refused to meet his eye. Eventually, she turned her body more towards him with a sigh of resistance, her eyes shut tightly as she forced the words out.

“It was the night Gabriel came, and you'd stormed off to your room. I wanted to check in on you but you were… occupied,” Aziraphale’s heart dropped as the mortifying realisation clicked in his brain. His face grew red and he felt his blood deafen his ears.

“No,” He bargained, shaking his head in denial.

“Yes,” She squeezed out, a pitiful grimace on her lips.

“Oh no, please tell me you didn’t hear anything,” He grabbed his face with both hands, feeling the warmth of his face radiate off into his palms.

“I left as soon as I realised what was happening,” She stated, fiddling with one of the scarf ends, actively avoiding his gaze as he fought the urge to cry tears of humiliation.

“No no no,” He wondered if he denied it long enough it would soon become false, but his mother continued encouraging his indignity with every word she spoke.

“But I heard you say his name…”

“Oh, that is so not how I wanted you to find out,” He hung his head low, dragging his hands across his face as he felt the mortification set in.

“Well, I can't say it was the most pleasant thing to hear as a mother,” He groaned, shaking his head more furiously than before.

“I’m mortified,” His mother gave him a polite smile, a sense of pity accompanying her stare.

“That’s understandable, but the point is that it wasn't a shock when your father told me what you’d done,” A heavy air hung between them, where neither of them could look each other in the eye. Aziraphale slowly lifted his head up, finding his same blue eyes staring back at him with pity and sympathy. He felt like an animal trapped behind glass, on display for everyone to cry at his own misery, and he was left with that feeling of totally helplessness, and was reminded once again how people viewed him: weak, frail, and powerless.

“That doesn’t answer the question though,” he managed to collect some bravery as he looked at his mother, who stared back in confusion.

“What question?”

“Are you mad at me?” He repeated again. Azirapahle didn’t know what he expected, but silence was not it. He didn’t know whether he wished his mother dismissed his fears, or stated her true emotions, but this , this blinding silence filled him with dread. He looked away, staring back down to her lap and a rueful huff escaped his mouth

“You are, aren't you?” He didn’t know what he imagined. Did he expect his mother to accept him? To comfort and support him like she always had? The answer should’ve been yes, but he knew, deep down, that his mother was a product of his family, which meant that in this circumstance, he was no longer her son, but a sinner.

She gulped, tilting her head to the side as he saw her internal debate on what to say “Well, I can’t say I’m pleased. I'm your mother, it's my job to keep you safe, physically and spiritually, so I cannot say I approve of what you've done,” His heart plummeted, leaving his chest void and empty. His ingrained shame returned, and he could feel the dirt and filth on him return.

“Oh,” He breathed out. His mother, now with her internal barriers having been taken down, turned to him fully and he saw no malice in gaze, but instead, total and utter confusion - no, betrayal . A look of betrayal that shattered his heart into a million pieces.

“A boy, Aziraphale! You know it's a sin, we’ve taught you it's a sin. Why would you do this to yourself?” She shook her head as she searched for his response to her rambling. Aziraphale bit the inside of his cheek to stop the tears that were already gathering in his eyes from falling. He couldn’t look away, he owed this to her, but with every second that passed where he held her eye was another second that his internal suffering grew.

“It’s not a choice,”

“Of course it is! It’s a test from God to prove yourself holy and pure,” 

A test. Isn’t that what his father always said? That he has small stumbles away from the path of God but that he must remain focused to achieve eternal peace? It’s the same conflict he had that October’s day before his first weekend hanging out with Crowley, the one that ultimately got him closer to someone he would trust with his life now. The same day that started him on the path of self confidence and happiness and freedom with himself being the priority.

Did he fail the test? Could he honestly look himself in the eye, knowing all the happiness that came from his determination to see Crowley that day, and say that it was a failure? How could love resemble anything like a part of failure? If anything, God was testing him on his true self, and if he had the courage to explore it when he was never given the chance before in fear of the repercussions. 

And he certainly wasn’t the only Prince to undergo these tests.

“Do you think Samuel has a choice in what he is?” He had asked the question before it had finished being thought up in his brain, and he could instantly see the effect it had on his mother, who recoiled back at the sound of her eldest child’s name.

“Aziraphale please-” he didn’t allow her to finish her dismissal, growing more agitated and frustrated with the situation by the second. Instead of suffering, he was angry, he was outraged at the hypocrisy and her eye contact only fueled his fire to burn even brighter.

“Do you really think she chooses to live like she does?” The female pronouns came off his tongue easily, and he was fascinated how two small three-letter-words could trigger the woman he admired. She sat up straighter, as if she had any moral high ground in this conversation and the air around her shifted into a self-fuel pridefulness.

“God gives all of us tests. Some just succumb to the temptation,”

“What kind of God would allow this to happen to an 18 year old?” Her eyebrows shot up with shock. For 18 years, he had cowered at the name of the Lord, being nothing but subservient to His commands and orders. It was unthinkable to question God in his household, and yet here he was, with this brazen display of blasphemy that would send the younger him into a coma.

“Be careful, Aziraphale. You cannot question the will of God. It is not for us to understand,” She regulated her breathing as she spoke carefully and quietly, which only worked to fuel his indignation even more

“No, I think it's you who doesn't understand God. God wouldn't make me this way, wouldn’t make LUCY, in His image, and then condemn us for it!”

“It is not God that made you like this, it is that boy!” His mother hissed in his face, her eyes wild with a storm of emotions that left Aziraphale scrambling back against the headboard.

“Don’t bring Crowley into this,” He tried to say as confidently as possible and despised the slight tremble his voice held.

“Homosexuality is unnatural, and it's designed to stray you from God. You knew this and you never showed any signs of impurity. But then, you meet this-this fiend and suddenly you have changed, claiming this is how you always were! You cannot blame me for making a conclusion based on my evidence,” She tried to grab his hands, but he jerked them back as if she had burnt his skin. He tried to not think about how much her crestfallen face twisted a knife deeper into his heart.

“If that's how you feel then why are you here?” He asked incredulously. 

“Because you are my son!” She responded almost instantly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, although it made less and less sense in his head. “I am your mother and I love you. Even if this lifestyle you have chosen is not something I agree with, we are taught to love the sinner, hate the sin, and I love you so much and I know you and I won't allow you to do something that, in my eyes, is harmful to you,”

He shook his head, her words not computing in his mind. It was words that felt familiar to him, but said with an underlying tone of offness, like seeing your childhood home with no furniture “I'm not a child anymore. I don't need your protection, I don't need your patronisation and I don't need you!”

His mother reeled, her eyes wide as she looked at his face. She gulped down what could’ve been a sob or a shout, and tried regaining her composure, but he could see her as if she was made of glass “Then I suppose you won’t hear my offer,”

“What offer?” He said with a bitter bite. She looked like she wished to reprimand him, but chose against it at the very last moment, licking her lips in anticipation and averting her gaze elsewhere.

“Your father has called the school and has personally excused from your mock exams in order to make a full recovery and make no one suspicious. He was more than happy leave it at that and allow you to leave, but I couldn't lose another son so convinced him to allow you back in,”

“What?” 

“He is willing to welcome you back home, so long as you apologise to him and repent for your sins,” She looked at him, and he saw the childish hope grow in her eyes. It broke his heart, now that he had stepped away, to see just how indoctrinated his family, and him, is. The blindfold had been taken off and he was unsure if he would ever be able to go back to a time where he didn’t see the hypocrisy in his life. 

“Are you serious?” Was all that he could manage out. His mother, who had risen from where she was sitting on the edge of the bed, approached him, and he didn’t move away, which allowed him to see the hope in her eyes, the unsupported belief that could go back to normal as if nothing had hoped. It was a side to his mother he’d never seen, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to explore it.

“Yes! Yes and everything will be okay again. We could be together again and you would be safe-” She knelt down to his level, cradling his face in her hands, pushing curls away as he shook his head. He grabbed one hand and pulled it away in vain, as she didn’t listen to, or didn’t seem to register, his complaints.

“Mum, I can’t go back…”

“But you can! You’ve been given a second chance,”

“And what then? I'm supposed to pretend that what happened never did? That I didn't uncover a part of myself that I never allowed myself to express my whole life. How could I go back to that? How could you ask that of me?” His voice broke, unable to keep his composure as his mother only  grew more erratic with her requests. She sighed out shakily, looking to the ceiling to stop tears from flowing.

“Aziraphale, I am only trying to keep you safe,”

“You think that house is safe? Do you honestly, genuinely believe I would be safe in that house?” He didn’t hate his mother. He didn’t see her as selfish or delusional but he craved for her recognition of what she was asking of him. But he knew from first hand experience the intense level of internal torment, where it feels like your heart and brain are tearing at each other.

“But how can I… how can I protect you when you're here, out of arm's reach? What happens if the Crowleys suddenly decide they don't want you, or they invite someone that could hurt you more…” Her knees buckled under her, so she was practically kneeling at his feet, grasping the blanket with tight fist

“Mum!-”

“You can't leave! I can't lose another son!” Her shoulders shook, her voice hoarse and broken as she panted for breath. 

Throughout his entire life, his mother had been the strongest person he knew. She could withstand his father’s anger better than everyone. She took the brunt of it for her children, so to see her pushed to her limits, begging at his feet to not leave, it tore Aziraphale’s very essence, and for a brief, scary moment, he almost said yes. Anything to stop his mother from feeling like this. But he had spent his entire life trying to live by someone else’s standards, putting their feelings in front of his own. It was about time he prioritised his health over someone else’s.

Despite the groans of pain his body shot through him, he slid out of the bed, joining his mother on his knees and gripping her tight, as tight as he could, as if he could leave an imprint of her on him “You haven't lost me. I'm still here,”

His mother pulled, and he saw the steaks of makeup that disfigured her mask “I don't know who you are and you don't know how much this hurts me, my miracle. I don't want you to throw your life away for something that could just be a phase,” He stayed silent. What could he possibly respond to that? She sniffed, and he watched how she magically regained all her composure, as if nothing had happened. “All I want is for you to be happy,”

“And I am happy. Here. Where I can be who I am with who I want,” She wiped her tears, leaving dark circles of mascara under eyes and smudged blush across her cheeks. 

“It’s so empty without you now. He's so much more prone to his tempers, I don't know if I can-” She stopped almost instantly when she realised what she was saying, as if stating how bad it was was going to break her fight and ruin her survival chances. She took a deep breath, steading herself. “I don’t understand you, and I thought I did,”

“You don't need to understand me to support me,” He spoke quietly, tentatively. His statement hung between them in silence, leaving the room feeling somehow paradoxically lighter and heavier at the same time. He enjoyed the silence, holding his mother’s hand, where no hurtful words were said or agonising realisations came to fruition, and he could pretend that he knew things were going to be fine instead of being left with the horrible feeling of uncertainty.

“Can you- can you please just consider it? Think about coming back to me. For me,” She added at the end, which caused him to look up to the woman who had saved and protected him for 18 years, and in that moment he knew he had to return the favour. There would be a time, and place, where he could save his mother from that house. But that time nor place was here and now.

“I promise,”

Both father and son could pretend they were enjoying the silence downstairs, but it was very obvious they were keeping their ears out for any sign of what was happening upstairs. There were moments where voices would carry louder than they had before, but the many floors and doors made it hard to distinguish who was speaking and what was being said.

It has been a couple minutes, where neither had heard anything. Crowley wasn’t worried, as he knew Aziraphale had a closer relationship to his mother than his father, so he wasn’t worried about him being hurt.

Physically.

Thankfully, he was saved from his thoughts, both good and bad, by Mrs Prince storming down the stairs. He scarf flowing elegantly behind her, juxtaposing her smudged makeup and creased dress. Both jumped at the sound of life on the stair and quickly scrambled to look less like they were eavesdropping on the entire conversation upstairs.

It didn’t seem like Mrs Prince noticed or cared, considering Crowley was scrolling on a dead phone and his father reading a book upside down, as she stormed up to his father, ignoring the younger person.

“You have to keep him safe. I don't care what you do or how you do it, promise me my son will be safe,” She rambled with the ferocity of a mad woman. She didn’t need to say his name, she didn’t need to and she seemed to grow more wild with every passing second that his father didn’t respond. He closed the book, breathing out a sigh of designation.

“I fear that in my absence, you've forgotten I am not the monster that your husband claims me to be, Dorothy,” Crowley watched with narrowed eyes as they exchanged a silent conversion. Her face softened with guilt, and she lost all confidence that her madness brought her. The two grown ups looked at each other with an intensity that was indescribable for Crowley before Mrs Prince turned her shoulders and walked out the living room.

He watched as his father stared at her distancing figure until she reached the door and disappeared to the outside world. He shook his head, storming wordlessly upstairs, leaving Crowley wondering what their story was.

Chapter Text

The day had turned dark, and Aziraphale, as always on nights like these, was wide awake. This time, however, he had a companion. Considering he had taken residence in Crowley’s bed, the two boys slept together on the same bed. Crowley had offered to sleep in the guest room, but Aziraphale felt it rude to kick the owner out of his own bed, and he didn’t bring up that he saw the relief in Crowley’s eyes when he said no to his offer.

The wind whistled outside the window, and Aziraphale’s eyes were heavy, though no real tired pulled them down. Their conversation had reached a lull, and he was thankful that Crowley allowed silence to fill the gaps instead of asking the question he had been dreading all day since his mother had left the house. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Crowley to know what happened, but he knew he would get defensive, and he didn’t have the energy to explain or defend his mother. Besides, he said some hurtful things and he would be lying if he said he still wasn’t feeling a bit shameful for what he said in his anger.

He was so caught up in his own mind that he barely realised when Crowley rolled out of the bed, muttering something about needing the bathroom. He grunted in response, already reaching over for his phone that lay charging on the bedside table. He turned it on without thinking and started menially opening and closing apps. Eventually, he opened Instagram, tapping quickly through the various stories without any real thought until he stopped.

He didn’t follow a lot of people, mainly Crowley, people that Crowley said he should follow, one page with book recommendations. He checked Crowley was still in the bathroom, until his fingers typed in a username he had memorised months ago. Soon enough, he was met with his sister’s instagram, which had a new post since the last time he had checked. He checked her page almost compulsively every few hours every day, desperately scrambling for any updates in her life. She barely posted, but her fianc é e shared images of them together almost daily. He sometimes felt a bit like a creep, with his almost obsessive desire to know her, but ever since he left his home, it felt like their connection grew stronger.

This, of course, was completely one sided and delusional of him as he was sure his sister had forgotten about him and would never want to see him again, considering he let their father do that to her. He supposed he got his karma eventually. Today, she was at a bar, accompanied by a few familiar faces that he’s seen previously on her post. There was something different about this bar, he noticed. He took in the blurry rainbow flags and the fact that almost every couple in the background was like him and her, and were openly enjoying the night with their partners. 

How he envied them, how he wished he and Crowley could go out in public, holding hands without fear of recognition. It was a mixture of envy and pride that was created as he stared long and hard at the photo in front of him. His hand hovered over the little heart. Despite the fact he had come across her page almost two months ago, he had yet to follow her or like a single picture, lest a notification give away his position. Everyday, his desire to reach out to her grew stronger, but everytime he felt confident enough to send her a message, he backed out at the last second.

It was his hidden secret, one he hadn’t even shared with Crowley yet. He wanted to keep her to himself for just a few more moments, because he was inherently selfish and longed for a real relationship with her that isn’t guided or tainted by others. It was a hard feeling to put into words, but somewhere in his mind he rationalised it as not wanting to ruin this image of her that he had in his head by inviting others in their parasocial relationship.

Quickly enough, he heard the flush of the toilet, which caused him to quickly exit her page, remove it from his history and shut off the app he’d been on. Crowley came out, his hair dishevelled from where he was laying down, as he stretched his arms over his head. His shirt lifted up, revealing a small trail of hair leading down into his trousers. Aziraphale’s eyes traitorously flicked down, drinking in the small sight of skin like a Victorian man. He gulped, looking back to his phone, pretending that his mind hadn’t taken that small amount of skin and ran with wild images and fantasies.

“I’m hungry, wanna go down to get sumthin?” He asked, scratching at his neck, exposing his arms from where the short sleeve ended.

“Are we allowed?” He tried his best to disguise his thought, choosing to answer with a question

Crowley’s eyebrows furrowed, a confused smile on his lips “Of course we are, why wouldn’t we be?” Aziraphale licked his lips. He wondered if he should tell him about the strict rules his father had emplaced on him for his entirety of his childhood in order for him to lose weight. He decided against it, realising that would just rile Crowley up unnecessarily.

“Okay,” He went to move, and Crowley was by his side offering a hand to help him up. He accepted it wordlessly, and felt a pang of disappointment when he let go. 

They made their way down the stairs, illuminated by the torch on Crowley’s phone in case they woke up his father. They finally reached the kitchen, which was where Crowley decided to turn on the light, casting a harsh light compared to his room. Aziraphale squinted as his eyes adjusted to the sudden change in lighting as Crowley began opening and closing cupboards.

Aziraphale perched on the edge of the kitchen island, grabbing it with both hands as he looked out in front of him to where Crowley was reaching. His shirt rode up again, this time revealing the waistband of his pants and it was like Aziraphale became a thirsty man in the desert. No matter how hard he tried to pull away, his eyes kept glancing downwards like magnets.

“Okay, so, we've got crisps. I can toast or, my personal favourite, cereal,” Crowley spun around rapidly, and Aziraphale tried to hide where he was looking but he managed to catch his changing expressions. Crowley’s eyebrows creased, placing the box of cereal that he had just picked up down beside him “ What's wrong?”

Aziraphale put on his best smile, determined to not glance down “Nothing,” Crowley didn’t accept that answer, as he crossed over to stand directly in front of him, his face close enough to lose himself into his rich amber eyes that captivated him like a spell.

“Something is wrong, tell me,” He demanded. God, he smelled good . Was it weird for him to think that? Possibly, but he supposed he was supposed to find his boyfriend’s scent appealing. He bit his lip, debating whether he should say anything. 

Nothing was wrong, he hadn’t technically been lying. The only problem, if you could even consider it a problem, was that he desperately craved Crowley’s touch, except he had explicitly asked for space. Which, he realised, meant no prolonged hand holding, or hugs, or kisses.

“Kiss me,” He saw how Crowley’s eyes widened as his eyebrows shot up. His mouth opened and closed uselessly for a second before he spoke.

“Excuse me?” He babbled out so quickly Aziraphale almost didn’t catch his words.

“I want you to kiss me,” Crowley was clearly stunned by his words, and was looking at him as if he asked him to shave his hair off.

“I thought you wanted space,” He stated dumbly, as if Aziraphale’s words created a big ERROR message in his brain. Aziraphale rolled his eyes playfully, feeling both slightly amused and annoyed by Crowley’s antics.

“And I did. And you've given me plenty ,” He emphasised the last question and deliberately looked down at his lips. He had given him space, of which he was entirely grateful for, but that also created awkward moments, where it was clear Crowley was missing him. But he knew Crowley would never cross his boundary like that, so no matter how awkward he felt, at least he felt safe.

Crowley stammered, punching out bits of unrecognisable words “Does this mean…?” He trailed off, the question finishing itself. Aziraphale swallowed, his smile flickering for a second before looking back up to meet Crowley’s eyes, which were wide with anticipation.

“Just… slow?”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” He growled, grabbing him by his hips and finally, finally , kissing him. Aziraphale immediately raked his hand through his short hair, breathing him in. Their lips slotted together like a familiar dance, which he sighed into as Crowley continued to push him against the kitchen island.

His head tilted to one side to better capture Crowley’s lips as one of his hands snarled from Aziraphale’s hips to his neck, cradling it. His skin burned at the contact and he wondered how he ever thought this was wrong.

Soon enough sadly, he ran out of breath and had to pull back. Crowley’s lips were parted and wet, as he audibly panted. “I’m not comfortable doing anything than kissing,”

Crowley’s gaze didn’t falter for one second ”That's fine, angel,” he chuckled nervously, grabbing his face once more to bring it towards him. The both of them smile into the kiss, as euphoria rushed through their veins.

Crowley grabbed his hips once more, and Aziraphale felt his body come alive to his touch. He managed to hoist him up onto the counter, producing a small squeak from Azirapahle, causing his smile to grow even more. At this angle, Aziraphale was taller than Crowley, which was different from what he was used to God , he loved it. 

“ God , how I’ve missed this,” muttered Crowey into the kiss, never letting his grasp lessen. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around his neck as he spread his legs to make room for Crowley, who was moving one of his hands up his side while the other rested on top of his thigh.

He parted his lips, feeling the familiar sensation of Crowley slipping his tongue in his mouth, which made an intoxicated shiver shoot up his spine. In this moment, it was just the two of them, reunited at last, with the rest of the world shut out. He pulled him as close as possible, feeling the adrenaline fill his veins.

“What’s going on?” Crowley sparing back, both boys whipping their heads at the intrusion and finding Crowley’s dad standing at the doorway with his jaw ajar.

“Dad!” He put as much space between them as if that could somehow erase what he had seen. Aziraphale slid off the counter, never taking his wild eyes off the adult, like a prey watching for signs of its predator to strike.

“Well?” He asked, looking between both of the boys.

“We were… just looking for something to eat and-”

“You’ve decided the best midnight snack was each other’s faces?” His father cut in, crossing his arms across his chest as his eyes narrowed

“I-”

“I’m sorry,” Both Crowley’s whip their head at the sound of Aziraphale’s voice, who dragged shakily through the air. His head was bowed and his entire body was trembling as his eyes watered with fear

“Angel…” Crowley attempted to speak, lifting his hand to place on his shoulders, a sign of comfort. Instead, Aziraphale’s arms flew over his head, as if he was expecting him to strike him. A yelp of fear jumped out his mouth as he began walking backwards away from the two Crowley’s

“I didn’t mean it. Please don't hurt me,” His voice rambled out, his head shaking in denial. Crowley shot a look to his father, who was regarding him carefully as he approached him

“Aziraphale,” Aziraphale, however, was far away to some enemy land, his eyes glazing over as he instinctively gripped a handful of hair, pulling a whimper from his lips.

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” His knees buckled beneath him as his shoulders shook with loud sobs. Crowley stood helplessly as he watched Aziraphale crumble. His father ran past him, kneeling in front of him. Aziraphale flinched backwards, turning his head away from Crowley’s dad, as if making eye contact was painful.

“Woah woah woah! It’s okay!” He went to grab his hands, but Aziraphale pulled them away, rocking back and forth, his voice high and pitchy and broken.

“I’m dirty, I’m dirty, I know,” His hands made painful drags down his arms, as if removing actual dirt off his skin, invisible dirt only Aziraphale could see and feel. But nothing was there, apart from the new red friction lines as he pointlessly scrubbed transparent filth.

Crowley’s dad didn’t blink, instead he guided Aziraphale’s hand off his arms, trying to hold his wrist gently, but he continued to pull them as far away from his dad. Aziraphale’s face scrunched up, his tears and sobs echoing in the kitchen “Hey, there's no need for that. Anthony get me some ice,” He spoke so softly Crowley almost didn’t register the sound of his name “Give me your hands, It’s alright, I won’t do anything,” Aziraphale lifted his head slowly, and he hesitantly gave his hands over, with an expression of defeat, as if he gave the knowing he was going to get hurt but relinquished to the punishment.

“That's it, just hold the ice,” Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed, as did Crowley’s but he wordlessly held the ice in his hands. “Now, I want you to close your eyes,” Hesitantly ignoring the quickly melting ice, he did as he was told, his posture still rigid and tense as if waiting for a strike at any moment.

“Okay brilliant, now I want you to breathe in with me,” Crowley’s dad breathed in audibly, waiting for Aziraphale to do the same. “Then breathe out for longer than you breathed in through your mouth,” Aziraphale copied his instructions.

“You’re doing great, again,” He spoke softly as he continued to breathe deeply. Aziraphale mirrored him and Crowley could see his body language relax, as if he could see his anxiety evaporate from him.

“And again,” 

“Once more,” Crowley watched in silence as his father reached up to grab a small tea towel as Aziraphale slowed his breathing to dry up the now melted ice. Aziraphale’s tears had stopped and Crowley watched as his dad sat silently beside him, stroking his wrist with his thumbs to calm him down until Aziraphale blinked his eyes open. The spell he’d been under had broken, and Crowley could see the realisation that he wasn’t in that house and that he was safe and that he had escaped whatever awful memory had taken hold of him.

“How you feeling?” Aziraphale’s gaze snapped to his dad’s and he could see his cheeks start to flush with embarrassment.

“Better. I’m so-” 

“That word is gonna be banned soon enough,” Crowley interrupted as soon as he realised that wretched ‘sorry’ word was going to be said, causing the two on the floor to look up at him. Aziraphale diverted his gaze down with an awkward smile before flicking it back upwards to his dad

“Thank you,”

“It’s no problem,” He slowly let go of his hands, staring at him for signs he was going to try and hurt himself again. When the moment nearly passed, Crowley’s dad spoke up again “I would never hurt you for being who you are,”

The hidden meaning ran deep, and the air around them turned stiff as Azirapahle refused to look either of them in the eye. He gulped quietly, fiddling with his ring subconsciously “I know, I just… forgot,” Crowley’s dad grabbed him by the shoulders, making sure he had his attention before speaking.

“Well, let’s ensure you never forget it then,” That pulled a smile from Aziraphale, which prompted Crowley to walk towards them and sit down beside him. He moved his hand over, intertwining it with Aziraphale with his silent consent. For a moment, it was just them two again, completely oblivious to the older man looking at them with recollection in his eye. 

He coughed, breaking the stance they were in with a pointed gaze. “To speak plainly, I figured there was something going on between the two of you so I can’t say I’m surprised,” He admitted with a sly and guilty smile which made Crowley jut his head forward in shock.

“What?”

“What? You didn’t honestly think you guys are good liars? Anthony, you held his hand, called him angel and spent every second with. I didn't want to assume there was something going on just because you are gay, especially when you clarified that you were ‘just friends’ as that would be presumptuous of me, but I had my suspicions,” Crowley could feel his face flush, realising just how obvious they had been and feeling slightly shy about it.

“Oh,” They shared a quick look, where their lips curled slightly up the way it does as giddy excitement ran through their veins.

“Yeah. So now that my suspicions have been confirmed, I can now set boundaries without them being prejudiced,” He said calmly, standing up as he spoke which pulled their stares away from each other and up at the older man. 

“What?”

“Like sleeping in separate beds,” He crossed his arms smugly as Crowley’s eyes widened in shock.

“DAD!”

“I'm sure you both know how to practice safe sex…”

Mortification crawled onto his face “Oh my god-”

“…But I would like to limit the amount of squeaky beds…”

He covered his face with his hands “Please stop talking-”

“…‘cus I know how teenage boys get,” There was a horrifically long sentence where Crowley expected another humiliating sentence from his father but was very grateful he stopped. He could feel Aziraphale’s shoulders shake up and down in silent laughter; he half wanted to turn to him and stare at him disappointingly.

“Are you done?” He said through his hands, which his father responded with a nod.

“Yes. Now go to bed, the both of you. It’s late,” Crowley all but shot up from where he was sitting, offering his hand to Aziraphalwe to lift him from the ground and started to lead him far, far away from the kitchen. Eventually, they got up the stairs, with Crowley never letting go of his hand until they were standing outside Crowley’s bedroom. They stood in front of the closed door awkwardly, neither of them willing to let go of the other and separate. After a moment, Crowley cleared his throat, pointedly looking anywhere but Aziraphale’s eyes.

“I'm sorry about my dad, he is-”

“Better than mine,” He hesitantly looked up to see Aziraphale smiling at him with his usually angelic smile. “It's alright,”

“Are you alright now?” he knew instinctively that Aziraphale would rather try and forget his whole breakdown than talk about it with him. And although it didn’t settle his own nerves, he knew the last thing Aziraphale needed right now was to be uncomfortable. As expected he nodded without a second thought.

“Yeah, Besides, if I need you, you're just a door down,” Crowley’s face grew a smirk as he stepped into Aziraphale, looking down at him in the way he knows drives Aziraphale wild

“Sure, I could be. But , I could also sneak back-”

“No, you can't,” His dad’s voice broke through them as he continued up the steps, not stopping to check they were separating.

“Oh, for fucks sake!” He yelled, tipping his head back in frustration. Aziraphale giggled softly into his shoulder, and for a moment, Crowley wasn’t that angry anymore because Aziraphale was laughing. He was smiling and he didn’t look dead. Instead, he looked as alive as ever. Crowley pulled back slightly, tucking a loose curl behind his ear. He never separated their gaze, and for that, he got to get lost in them, for the first time since he fell in through his door. They had their sparkle, that thing that drew Crowley in in the first place.

“Goodnight, angel,” Aziraphale smiled, cupping Crowley’s hand still resting on his face with his own.

“Goodnight, dearest,”

Chapter Text

Aziraphale, like he so was often nowadays, was nervous. He was so nervous, he could practically be sick at any moment and he didn’t know if he could stop himself from it. Of course, if you were to ask Crowley if his nervousness was justified, he’d say he was being a baby and that it wasn’t that serious, but Crowley couldn't understand, he couldn’t sympathise with this. He could never experience what Aziraphale is so he shouldn’t even be offering his useless input.

“Stop worrying!” Crowley said, sat at the edge of the bed in the guest room where Aziraphale was now sleeping ever since they got caught. Aziraphale paced relentlessly up and didn't even acknowledge the boy speaking.

“I can't help it! She’s- they're your sister and if I mess this up, they are going to hate me,” He rambled, getting frustrated at the wrong pronoun. His anxiety was building inside him, and getting this wrong was only stressing him out even more. Today, Crowley’s sister was returning from uni to spend the last few days of they’re half term at home, and that would be fine, except Aziraphale had never met them before, they probably didn’t know he was staying here and that they are going to hate him because of his last name.

“Bee isn’t going to hate you,” Crowley stood up and stopped in front of Aziraphale to stop that fucking pacing that had been going on for what he thought was hours. “You will be fine,”

“You don't understand!”

“So I’ve been told. By you, many times,” Aziraphale curled inwardly. Crowley grabbed him by his elbow, dragging him down to the edge of the bed to try and calm him down. “Look at me, they're not going to hate you becauseIi don't hate you. Alright? they're gonna love you!” Aziraphale immediately sprang up from the bed not even a second later, rolling his eyes to stand with his back to him

“That’s different,”

“Why?” He asked in outrage, his voice travelling up several pitches as his arm stuck out.

“Because you're you !” He said, as if that made any sort of sense to Crowley, who pulled a face as Aziraphale spun back around “Of course you don't hate me. They are a Crowley-”

“So am I!” He exclaimed, his arms still outward and voice still high. He stood up to face him but Aziraphale rolled his eyes again and turned away again.

“You know what I mean,” He said, batting him away as he had no excuse, to be frank. Crowley used this as a way to grab his arm and spin him around, pulling him close, which thankfully seemed to have his desired effect because Aziraphale no longer looked terrified in the way he was previously.

“No, I don't actually. Please enlighten me,” He said with a curl of his tongue and a crook of his lips. Aziraphale gulped, straightening to try and get some composure back.

“No, I refuse,” He turned away, again, as if that would deter Crowley, who simply wrapped his arms around his waist, placing his lips just below his ears before speaking.

“Cmon, what did you mean?” Aziraphale could feel Crowley smirk against his neck, and he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit the rush of adrenaline that flowed through his body, and he had to suppress a shiver.

“Crowley stop,” He said playfully, slapping him on the arms lightly as a smile grew on his face. He knew that was the wrong thing to do, because it matched Crowley’s quickly growing grin that made butterflies appear in his stomach. He pressed a kiss to his cheek, marking it red as blood flushed to his face.

“I know you wanna say it, angel,” He sang, pressing another kiss to his shoulder. Aziraphale tried his best to angle his face away, but it was like his body was magnetised to Crowley, and nothing was going to stop it from being pulled towards the other boy.

“I don't,” He said, uncertain whether he was convincing himself or Crowley. He chuckled deeply within his chest, making Aziraphale vibrate with excitement

“You wanna say it so bad, you look stupid,”

“I-” Whatever retort he was going to say died in his throat, and his body became stiff once again. He pulled away from Crowley, not looking back to him. “They’re here,” He said in his own trance, he didn’t even realise Crowley was moving towards him until his face was being cupped by Crowley’s hands and it broke whatever spell he was under.

“Look at me. You will do great. You are great,” He reiterated, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit better, although he felt that nervous nausea had returned.

“Thank you,” At that, Crowley intertwined their hands together and led them both out the bedroom. Aziraphale, afterwards, would swear up and down that the stairs had simultaneously grown and shrunk in size, making the journey pass within a blink of the eye whilst also lasting forever. He had no time to adjust once his feet hit the last step before they rounded the corner together and there they were, standing with a suitcase in hand, disengaging from a hug from their dad. 

Their eyes moved to where the two boys were standing, lightening up once they spotted their brother “There he is! I don't see you for two months and you no longer run to the door? Clearly you've forgotten your train-” Aziraphale saw the moment they spotted him, because they stopped their approach to Crolwey and their face turned sour “What are you doing here?”

There was a tense moment, where all eyes were on Aziraphale. He gulped, silently rearranging himself under their scrutinising glare. Finally, their dad spoke up “Oh, erm. Beatrice, you know Aziraphale-”

“How could I not?” The implication in their voice was clear. They crossed their arms, still waiting for an answer to their question. The older man cleared his throat, which did nothing to pull the attention from Aziraphale, who had started to bow his head in shame.

“Aziraphale is staying with us for a while,”

“Why?” They didn’t even turn to look at their father, tilting their head interrogatively. Aziraphale’s head whipped around in a search for help, but was only met with wide and helpless eyes.

“Oh- I, erm,” Thankfully, Crowley stepped between the two of them, glaring at his sister as he did so.

“It doesn't matter. He just is. Be nice,” Bee was relentless, refusing to let their gaze fall as they searched into Crowley’s eyes for anything they could use. They clicked their tongue, letting their posture fall slightly with a roll of their eyes.

“Fine. It's nice to… see you,” They spit out with contempt, contrasting with their words. 

“Likewise,” He managed to stammer out. They rolled their eyes at his words again, turning away as Aziraphale shrunk inwardly. 

“Good, now let's eat since someone decided to keep us waiting,” It was like a switch was switched within them, as their shoulders fell loosely, a smile creasing up on their face in the way where Aziraphale could see the family resemblance between the three of them.

“It ain't my fault the plane was delayed,” They said as they grabbed the forgotten suitcase. The conversation between father and daughter continued down the corridor into the dining room, but not before Bee knocked their shoulder into Aziraphale, making him stumble back lightly but reminding him unhelpfully of his injuries beneath his clothes. But that didn’t matter at the moment, because Aziraphale nearly crumbled where he was standing. He ran his hands through his hair, aiming his gaze down to the floor.

“They hate me,”

“No, they don’t. They're probably cranky from the journey,” Crowley’s voice interjected, grabbing his hands by the wrist and pulling them gently down. Aziraphale shook his head. All he wanted to do right now was run back upstairs and lock himself in the guest room, but he couldn’t even do that.

“I can't do this,” He resigned, silently begging Crowley to save him.

“Yes you can, just ignore it. Once they see how lovely you are, they are going to go crazy over you,” He stroked his hair back, his head still between Crowley’s hands, and he could admit that it helped him slightly, but his heart was still running a million miles an hour. Slowly and hesitantly, he nodded and let himself be guided to the kitchen.

He stood on the edge of the room, watching as all Crowley’s set the table, mindless happy chatter being passed between them and Aziraphale hated the twinge of jealousy that rocked his body. They never did this, back in that house. Family time was always so serious, walking carefully on eggshells around him in case he didn’t deem you up to his standards. Crowley often flashed him a quick look, silently asking if he was alright, which he tried to respond with a smile. Thankfully, Bee didn’t try to talk to him again, in fact, they refused to even look in his direction, and he was unsure whether he was thankful for it or not.

 All too soon, Mr Crowley came out wearing oven mitts and carrying a big plate of food. Crowley held his hand out, placing Aziraphale between him and his father but opposite Beatrice, who watched their interaction with narrowed eyes. Instinctively, Aziraphale looked around for offered hands, but the Crowleys began eating immediately, leaving him wide eyed. 

“God, how I've missed your fajitas, dad,” They said with a mouthful of food, making their dad chuckle deeply.

“I refuse to believe Harvard doesn’t make good fajitas,”

“They’re missing the key ingredient,”

“Love?” He said, pulling a sickly sweet smile towards his daughter, who regarded him with fond confusion.

“Seasoning,” He laughed, tipping his head back like Crowley does. Aziraphale watched silently the people around him and the food in front of him, getting lost in his own head. This was technically the first time he’s eaten at the table, having been confined to the bed for the past several days. It was stupid of him to think the Crowleys did the same traditions as his house. He was pulled from his head by someone on his right nudging him slightly.

“Is everything alright?” Aziraphale shook his head up, realising Crowley, and everyone else at the table, was looking at him with unreadable emotions

“What? Oh yes, I’m fine,” He reassured, looking at Crowley who’s face still read concern.

“What, you’ve never seen a fajita before?” Aziraphale followed the voice, leading him to Bee who was staring at him like he was an alien. The words got stuck in his throat, and he was painfully aware of his face flushing an embarrassing red colour.

“No, I have. It's just…” He shook his head, if he could just get through this meal, then he could go upstairs and he wasn’t going to overshadow and ruin Bee’s return with his own problems “...silly. Please -” He began, gesturing to the communal plate in front of him, but Crowley gently grabbed his arm, bringing his attention back to him.

“What’s wrong angel?” Aziraphale swallowed, flicking his eyes to the other two members, who were looking at them and analysing every movement or word. He looked down, not speaking above a whisper as he reluctantly replied.

“We always say grace,”

“What?” He leaned in as Aziraphale stood straighter in his chair and repeated louder.

“At home, we say grace so thought-” Bee’s voice stabbed through his sentence

“Well, we don’t so-”

“Nonsense, we can do it this once,” Aziraphale and Bee both whipped their heads around to the older man, who carefully offered his hands to the both of them. Bee glared at him but resentfully grabbed his hand. Aziraphale copied, offering his other hand to Crowley, who gave him a reassuring squeeze. He bowed his head, closing his eyes with practice. There was another pause before Crowley’s dad spoke up.

“Is it alright if you lead? It's… been a while,” Aziraphale opened his eyes again as he realised he was being spoken to. He nodded and closed his eyes again, thinking back to his last meal in his house.

“For what we are about to receive, may The Lord make us truly thankful. Amen,” There was a scattered group of ‘amen’ before he opened his eyes again once more. He looked back to Crowley, who was checking on him and he could see him visibly relax once he had taken a bite. They ate in silence, which was driving Aziraphale crazy and he felt like if he didn’t speak, he was going to explode. He cleared his throat and all three Crowleys looked at him.

“So Bee-”

“Beatrice,” They corrected. Aziraphale sighed, ignoring the way Crowley tried to discreetly over the fact he was kicking his sister under the table and the way it made them jump slightly, and started over.

“Beatrice. I hear you go to Harvard,” they nodded, their jaw tight as if speaking to him was painful for them.

“I do,” He smiled comfortably, thankful for Crowley’s hand holding his under the table.

“That’s nice. Pretty much all my brothers went to Harvard. Actually, one of the eldest, Gabriel, is there now. Do you see him around often?” They scoffed, talking into their food as they took another bite.

“He’s not hard to miss,” Aziraphale chuckled nervously, unsure whether he should continue the conversation.

“Yeah, I feel that sometimes,” They made a non committal sound, rolling their eyes as if he was telling them the sky was blue. “What are you studying?” He asked.

They sighed like the conversation was ruining their life. “Medicine,” They spat out.

“So is he!” They slammed their hands on the table, making him jump in his seat.

He whipped his head around as his father’s cutlery smashed against his plate. His fists were clenched on the table and his eyes were filled with wrath. He stood quickly, causing the chair to fall to the floor with a crash!

“You know, I don't actually want to talk about your brother. Especially in my house, considering we never used to mention you Princes in here,” They spat out his last name like a slur.

His father slammed his fist against the table, making all the cutlery tremble and shake. Aziraphale flinched, turning his head away from him as his mother yelled for him to stop by holding him back. If they were alone, his father would’ve grabbed him and brought him to his study. If they were alone, his father’s hands would be on him to remind him about the consequences of disrespect

“Bee, that's enough!” He vaguely registered their father yell.

‘You stupid bitch! Don’t you dare disobey me!’

“So why are you here? Got bored of being the perfect little church boy?...”

‘You were always different, Aziraphale. I knew that about you from the beginning. You were… obedient. Sure, the occasional mistake and error had to be accounted for but you always stayed in line. It was one of your best qualities,’

“Did you snap and run away?...”

Get to the door. Get to the door. Get to the fucking door-

“Did your father?...”

‘You should be lucky I’m not bashing your head in on the pavement,’

“Or did you just decide you can come here and rule the place and pretend like our families don't loathe each other!”

‘Explain? Explain why I have video proof of you being tempted and defiling yourself with that faggot Crowley!’

“Bee, that’s fucking enough!” Crowley stood up, to which Bee shook their head, throwing down the napkin they had in their hands and jolting up from the chair.

“Fuck this!” They were halfway out the door before Aziraphale registered he was speaking.

“He was going to kill me,” Bee stopped in their tracks, and every pair of eyes were on him. “He was going to kill me for just being friends with your brother, let alone anything more. He had his hand around my throat and I knew I had to get out of there before he was going to hurt me anymore. Would you have rathered if I'd let him kill me?” At this, he brazenly listed his eyesight to meet theirs, and he was too proud to feel shameful at the way their head dropped.

“No,” They said quietly, unable to meet his eye.

“I know having a Prince in here must be awful, but I have nowhere else to go. My family refused to stand up to my father in fear of what he might do. The church threw me away the second they found out what I was and I have no friends apart from Crowley, so I apologise that I am here when you probably want to be with your family but I will not apologise for surviving,” The finished breathlessly, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He glared at them until they did anything, sadistically daring them to fight him. He wanted them to feel as bad as he did, but they only sighed in defeat, their shoulders dropping.

“I’m sorry too. I see your brother so often, I guess I figured you’d be the same as him,” Aziraphale relaxed as mutual understanding passed between them. He shook his head reassuringly, willing his mouth open.

“I’m not. Thankfully,” At this, they laughed. Slowly, they walked back to the table, but didn’t stop at their seat. Instead, they walked around and hugged him tightly. Aziraphale jolted back for a moment, catching Crowley’s wide eyed stare before hugging them back. 

He guessed they didn’t hate him in the end.

Crowley stretched as he walked back up the stairs. The 4 of them had talked until the late hours of the night, and didn’t leave when the cold inevitably went cold. Apart from their attitude in the beginning, he was so glad his sister liked Aziraphale. They were his role model and the person he looked up to, so he really wanted this meeting to go well. 

They regarded Aziraphale more fondly, still keeping their distance after they finished hugging, but they weren’t as cold or rude as they were at first. If he was honest, he was still mad at them for the way they spoke to Aziraphale. He could see the way their words affected him, especially when the shouting started, and his eyes had been clouded over in a purgatorial memory. But Aziraphale was happy to forget the incident the moment Crowley’s sister had apologised.

Aziraphale had retired earlier than the three of them, claiming his injuries were acting up, but the small glance he passed to Crowley showed his intention of allowing them a moment alone as a family. He helped his dad clean up with his sister, laughing as the inevitable unwanted splashing whilst cleaning the dishes came until his body began to feel heavy.

He was walking up the stairs when he heard his sister call for him, grabbing his arm to twist him around to face them.

“What do you want?”

“Is it true? What he said?” Crowley grew rigid, which answered their question well enough “Jesus,”

“Feel like a dick yet?” They pulled a face, staring at him like it was his fault they didn’t know

“I apologised,”

“Yeah, but you can't take back anything you said,” He yanked his arm from their grasp, feeling that anger he had let fester grow into an ugly beast.

“Since when are you so in touch with your emotions? Last I checked, you would've rather drown yourself in a bottle,” They stepped quietly back down the stairs, but he followed them until he stood face to face with them and ensured they listened to every word he was saying.

“Since I realised I’m all he has and don’t want to disappoint him anymore then others have,” Their eyes flicked between his, searching for his sincerity. He held their gaze, unwilling to be the first to give up. When they sighed, he took a step back, which prompted them to speak once more.

“So you're… together?” They asked. He crossed his arms, shrugging defensively.

“Is that such a surprise?” They copied his movements, leaning on the barrister of the stairs as they looked up at him.

“I’m just surprised anyone was willing to stick with ya for more than 5 minutes,” He rolled his eyes, leaning down to slap them on the arm, which pulled a laugh/ squeal from their mouth.

“Shut up!” He laughed with them, letting the moment fall into comfortable silence when their twin laughter ended “G’night Bee,” They nodded silently, but as he turned back around to walk up the stairs, they spoke up again.

“Does that mean you told him?” He twisted around to face them, his eyebrows furrowed down in confusion

“Told him what?”

“About the bet?...”

Ice

“...Remember when you woke me up in the middle of the night to complain…” 

Cold

“.... and I wanted to tear your throat out with a stapler?”

Dread.

The bet. This stupid fucking bet that he hadn’t thought about in ages. Because it wasn’t even important to him anymore. It was a thing of the past. A mistake that brought him a future of love and happiness. And yet he still hadn’t told Aziraphale, who was in his home, thinking Crowley was the only one who hadn’t betrayed him yet. Shit. 

Shit shit shit .

“Yeah. Yeah, I told him,” It was like the words knew they were lies, because they kept getting stuck in his throat, burning his tongue as they left his mouth. It’s a miracle Beelzebub didn’t notice his conflict.

“And he still came to you when that happened to him? Fuck, he really must have no one on his side,” Yeah, no shit . He had no one. No one to fall back on. And the one person he allowed himself to be open with - the one person who knew about what happened behind closed doors - the one person that gave him the confidence to be true to himself and get out of that environment that would’ve killed him sooner or later - was lying to him. Betraying him for every second that passed in which his lips remained sealed.

“Goodnight, Beelzebub,” He said and turned his back to his sister, who stared at him with furrowed eyebrows as he ran up the stairs.

“Goodnight Ant,” His breathing became irregular, and he could no longer convince himself it was because of the stairs. His heart felt too big for his chest and his lungs tried beating out, making every breath painful. It was like he was walking around with ‘traitor’ etched into his skin. It felt like everyone knew how big of a liar he actually was, how much of an arsehole he was.

His feet guided his body without it realising and before he knew it he was in front of Aziraphale’s door and he knew, he just knew, what he had to do. Was this the right time? Absolutely fucking not, but it was his fault he hadn’t said anything earlier. And Aziraphale could be as angry with him for as long as possible but not another day could pass without Aziraphale not knowing, it wasn’t right.

It was late, Aziraphale probably wasn’t even awake right now, but although every fibre of his body was pulling him to the door in front of him, every thought that raced through his head tried fruitlessly to discourage him. He swung the door open, expecting to be met with darkness, but instead saw Aziraphale slam his phone down on the covers and whip his head up with an expression of someone caught red handed. Crowley’s eyebrows funneled downwards, his hand still on the handle, propping it open.

“You alright?” 

“Yeah,” He answered almost as soon as he had finished speaking. He titled his head sideways, leaning relaxingly against the doorway, a stark contrast to his previous anxious thoughts.

“What were you looking at?” He asked. The grin on his face only grew as Aziraphale shook his head quickly.

“Nothing,”

“Really? Nothing?”

“Yep. So goodnight-” He tried to dismiss him, but a sly smirk crept onto Crowley’s face.

“Is it porn?” He watched as Aziraphale’s body stiffened and his jaw dropped forward.

“I’m sorry?” He asked as if his brain no longer computed English.

“Is it porn ?” He asked slowly, accentuating the last word and watching as Aziraphale’s face flushed bright bright red as he looked around helplessly for a rescue.

“Why in the world would you think I’m watching… that ?!” Crowley chuckled, unable to remain serious as Aziraphale grew redder and redder.

“Trust me, the only reason a teenage boy closes his device that fast is if he's watching porn,”

“I’m not watching… porn !” He began to shout, switching to a whisper when he realised the door was wide open and anyone could be listening in.

He was trying to look around Crowley to see if anyone was standing there when he dove for the phone in front of him “Then let me see it,” Aziraphale snatched it with lightning speed, holding it close to his chest

“No!”

“Then it’s porn,” He said through laughter, wiping his hands maniacally as Aziraphale kept moving it out of his grasp

“Stop saying porn!” He screamed out a whisper, still masterfully evasing Crowley’s attempt to catch the phone. He leaned back from him, Crowley’s shoulders still bouncing softly.

“Aziraphale, you can tell me!” An exasperated groan forced its way out of Aziraphale, who had given up on whispering in an effort to stop Crowley.

“I’m not watching porn!” He reiterated, putting stress on every word.

“Angel, why use porn when your wonderfully sexy boyfriend is next door?”

“I’M NOT!” Aziraphale roared, looking at him with cold anger that snuffed out Crowley’s warmth. Immediately, Crowley stopped all attempts to catch the phone as he regarded him carefully and with caution.

“Okay jeez! I just want to know what it is!” Aziraphale sighed, rubbing his face with his hands as he stared down into the screen. If it really was prn, like Crowley had joked, he wouldn’t be looking so disturbed. Crowley inched closer as Aziraphale got lost into his phone. “I’m serious, you can tell me whatever it is. I wont judge,” Aziraphale lifted his eyes slowly, and for the second time that evening, his soul was searched for sincerity. He sighed deeply once more, allowing the screen to tip back far enough for Crowley to recognise the Instagram layout.

“It’s my sister’s Instagram,” He admitted quietly. Crowley’s face scrunched with confusion as he twisted around to get a better angle.

“Michela?”

“Lucy,” 

“I don’t” He began before it dawned on him who Lucy is, or more importantly, who she was “- Oh ,”

“Yeah ‘oh’,” He muttered out with a rueful chuckle. Crowley settled himself beside his boyfriend, looking over his shoulder at pictures of the life of a dark haired woman, a dark haired woman related to Aziraphale.

“Are you two talking?” He questioned aloud, looking back to the boy who was staring at the screen with conflict in his eyes.

“No,”

“So you're just… what, staring at her page?” He asked, to which Aziraphale replied with a humourless laugh.

“Yep. Haven't even got the courage to like a photo,” He scrolled through the pictures, taking in the faces and places she had visited in the lifetime since he’d seen her last.

“Why?”

“Because she hates me,” He cried out, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Crowley’s jaw fell open, and he momentarily lost the ability to speak.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s my fault what happened to her. I should've stopped it, I should've stood up for her. I was a coward,” He threw his phone to the side, closing himself off from Crowley. The other boy lightly placed his hand onto his arms, rolling him around slightly so that they were facing one another.

“Angel, you were a kid and I bet she views it the same way,” Aziraphale shook him off, replying to him without ever bringing his eyes towards him.

“It doesn't even matter! She won't want to talk to me so don’t worry about it,”

“I’ll worry about it ‘cus you’re worrying about it,2 This stopped Aziraphale in his tracks, as he finally realised that Crowley wasn’t going to let this go easily. He gulped as Crowley continued speaking. “Look, do you wanna reach out? Well?”

There was a silent moment before he shook his head. “Yes,”

“Then do it,” He gestured to the phone. Aziraphale made no move to reach for it and instead focused his attention to fiddling with his ring once more.

“I can't,” He confessed, shaking his head with his eyes closed, the image too painful for him.

“Why?!”

“Because I'm such a hypocrite! What, I haven't spoken to her in 7 years and the second I'm in her position, I reach out?” He yelled and he looked close to tears. It was like the dam had been broken, and all the pent up feelings he had towards this whole awful situation were springing forward.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“She’ll think I’m only using her to get sympathy because she’s the only one who’d be able to understand and she’ll believe that I don’t actually care or am sorry for what happened,” He ran his hands through his hair again, as he grew more and more agitated. Crowley sighed, trying his hardest to cool his nerves because it was clear the last thing Aziraphale needed was a person shouting at him for having complex emotions.

“Okay, I’m saying this as someone who cares for you, but you’re being fucking ridiculous! She’s not gonna hate you for protecting yourself in that shithole of a house. It was the jungle and you had to do what you did to survive. Yes, she may have been nearly destroyed, but it got her out of the house and look - engaged with friends, who accept her for who she really is,” As he spoke, Aziraphale lifted his gaze towards the phone regarding it as if it were some mythical creature. Crowley stroked his arm comfortingly, making him look at him in the eye to convey his message. 

“Send her a message. The worst she can do is ignore it, and in either case, you still and will always have me,” He promised quietly, pressing his lips to his temple. The last sentence sat heavy on his heart as he realised he’d gotten so caught up in the conversation, he had completely forgotten to tell Aziraphale about that stupid bet. 

It lingered between them. Crowley knew that he should say it, get it over and done with. He knew it was a shit time but he missed his chance at the beginning of the year so this was his punishment to pay. He should man up and get it over with. However, Aziraphale was reaching for the phone and interrupted his conflict.

“You really think I should send her something?” He scanned his face for any signs about what he should do, his eyes wide making him appear as innocent as a lamb

“Yes,” He nodded. Aziraphale switched the phone back on, hovering over the message button before looking back to Crowley.

“Will you… will you help me?”

And in that moment, Crowley knew that he couldn’t ruin this moment for him, this moment that could get him connected to the one possible family member that might be able to accept and love him. He couldn’t overshadow this moment of growth with his regressive mistakes. He would have to wait another day to tell him.

“Is that even a question?” Aziraphale smiled, and Crowle’s world shone like it never had before. The two boys snuggled up close together and began to write an overdue message.

Chapter Text

‘What do you have to say for yourself?’

What did he have to say for himself? His entire system was a light, the warning sirens going off and ringing in his ears. He looked up at the ceiling, the plain, old, normal, ordinary ceiling and prayed to God. Praying for an answer as to what he did to deserve this. How could he make him guilty of love and his father innocent of hate? He wanted to scream, half from the pain, half from the emotional hurt he had. He was on the brink of death, he felt it and he knew that he should fight. He knew he was the victim here. He knew that his father was at fault. But as the sky stayed silent, with no protecting light, he realised this was his fate

His fate was to die at the hand of his father, at the hand of The Father. He talks about how He loves his creations, and how He grants Grace to all to save them, but the sight of Crowley’s face flashed before his eyes. The sight of Crowley, the kindest, purest, most wonderful thing to happen to Aziraphale, being exiled and ostracised from the church and God and Aziraphale asked if He wouldn’t even save the most pure, why would He save someone like him?

God is not listening to him. He never was, never has. No one is coming to save him. 

‘Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Have mercy,’ His face contorted in pain, his tears streaming down his face leaving a permanent mark. John’s hand came up to his neck, squeezing as he pulled him up.

‘You could have ruined me. You could’ve ended my entire career,’

This was a memory. Aziraphale knew this was a memory because he remembered how the pain - or the blood lost - was making him delirious and light headed. His father took up his vision, remembering how the hand around his neck contorted his neck tightly as if he was trying to snap his neck right there. He remembered how his father lied about his mercy before dropping him onto the ground and dragged him down the stairs for his mother - oh, his mum - to see him for the disgusting degenerate he was.

This can't be a memory. This can't be a memory, because the pressure on his neck was still there, its still fucking there, and his father isn’t letting go.

‘This is me being merciful. You should be lucky I’m not bashing your head in on the pavement,’ His hand never moved from their spot, his fingers coiled until they were digging into his skin. He gasped for air, but air never came as his throat was squeezed tight. He moved his lips as if to speak, but nothing came out. His father glared into his soul, his hatred burning him from the inside out.

Oh God, please don’t let him kill me. I’ll repent, I’ll do anything. Please just don’t let him kill me.

Don’t let me be in pain. Make it stop. If You’re going to let him kill me, at least take the pain away.

Dear God, don’t let him be the last thing to see. I want to see love, not hate. Surely You, a being of love, won’t let me die of hatred.

He watched as his vision started to blur around the edges, the creeping darkness expanding until all he could see was his father’s rageful eyes. There were no trumpets, no angels signing, no light, only wrath. The hand’s twin joined him in his effort to squash his throat until it felt like Aziraphale’s head was going to burst open. This was it, his father was going to kill him - his father was killing.

God, please!

I DON’T WANT TO DIE

Aziraphale sat bolt upright in his bed, desperately tugging at invisible hands around his throat, audibly taking in deep breaths. He felt his lungs finally expand with air as he blinked around at his surroundings. His father’s study wasn’t this dark a moment ago, and he couldn’t see. Why couldn’t he see? He twisted his body around wildly. At any moment, his father was going to hurt him again and he knew he couldn’t fight back, not against someone who wanted to kill him.

“What, what what?!” A light switched on, and he realised his father jumped out from beside him. He was going to kill him. Aziraphale scrambled back, falling down from the bed - the bed? - to get away from his father.

“Don’t kill me, please. Stop it! Get off of me!” He struggled and thrashed against him, screaming as he held his face still.

“Angel it's me! It's me!” Aziraphale hesitantly looked at who was holding his face between, realising his father wasn’t a redhead, and there was only one person in the world that called him angel.

“Crowley?” He breathed out, scanning his face to ensure his eyes weren’t playing a trick on him. 

God listened. He listened to his prayers, prayers asking for love and not hatred. He got Crowley here, so he could see him one last time. Thank you God, Oh thank you. His relief was short iced because his father was still here. Oh God, he was so angry, if he sees Crowley here, he’ll kill him too. No, no Crowley can’t die, he won’t let him die

“Yeah! Yeah, It’s just me. Are you okay?” He wanted to warn him, yell at him to hide in case his father saw. But he knew the dangers of him being there, so why wasn’t he scared? That’s finally when Aziraphale realised they weren’t there , they were here ; in Crowley’s home, where both of them were safe. They had just fallen asleep after crafting a message to send to Lucy. They were safe. He was safe.

“Yeah. Oh God, yeah, it was just a nightmare,” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, wiping at dried tears as Crowley continued to ground him through loving strokes.

“Angel, you were screaming bloody murder,” 

“I- I need some fresh air,” Aziraphale pushed himself from the floor, leaving Crowley dumbfounded on the floor.

“Okay, I’ll come-” Aziraphale turned around to Crowley once more as he shook his head with a scrunched face.

“No. I need to be alone,”

“Angel-” He began but got cut off once again.

“20 minutes,” A moment passed and Crowley still didn’t stand down. “Please,” He whispered and after what felt like an eternity, Crowley sighed in defeat, walking back to the bed, with his head hanging low.

“Up the stairs down the corridor,” Aziraphale was silently grateful and left the room quickly after that. He travelled down the several corridors, until he was at the very top floor of Crowley’s house. 

The night air chilled his body, making every hair on his body stand up and his body tense, and he suddenly wished he had brought a jumper of some kind. He sighed reply, watching it as it condensed in the air. He luckily spotted a blanket draped over one of the chairs on the balcony. As he covered himself with it, he shut his eyes, tipping his head back as he leant against the railing. It was just a nightmare, a nightmare he’d been having ever since he woke up here. It was always the same one, but it didn’t make it any less terrifying.

He’s in that room again and he’s dying. He’ll never go to Uni, he’ll never get married, he’ll never see Crowley again. And worse of all, it’s his father, who Crowley had warned would kill him, but because of his cowardice, he let his actions be excised, which resulted in his death.

He all but fell backwards into one of the chairs, rubbing his face as soon as he felt the tears in his eyes beginning to form. He refused to cry over it anymore, he got out, he escaped. But his mother hasn’t, she was still there taking everyone of his hits.

He could’ve continued to cry about it all night, but the sound of the sliding door to the balcony broke his thoughts. He rolled his eyes as he stood up expecting to see Crowley with some lame excuse as to why he couldn’t give him 20 minutes of peace but jumped at the sight of the older Crowley. The much older Crowley.

“Oh fuck!” Mr Crowley jumped back, one hand grabbing his heart, the other the door frame between a squished packet of cigarettes. “Jesus christ, I didn't see you there,” He huffed out through a soft chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” He said, feeling very uncomfortable and hyper aware of the cold outside.

“No, no, you're fine, just scared me, that's all,” He straightened back up, imposing over him as he stood back up.

“I'm sorry. I'll go,” He started, removing the blanket from his shoulders, but Mr Crowley waved his hands which stopped him in his tracks

“Please stay. You were here first and you would've stayed if I wasn't here,” Hesitantly, Aziraphale covered himself once more, as he watched through wide eyes as Mr Crowley walked to the railing and adjusted his robe. He pulled a cigarette out of the packet, but shot him a quick look before bringing the lighter up. “You don't mind if I smoke, do you?”

Aziraphale stared at him for an embarrassingly long time before he realised he was talking to him. He shook his head. “No,” The lighter clicked and illuminated a bit of his face and soon enough, grey smoke flew into the air. They stood beside each other for a minute in a thick silence. Aziraphale was almost too scared to move, which is why he gnarly jumped at the sound of the older man’s voice.

“I was supposed to have quit, but no matter how hard I try, I always come back. It was a way for Anthony to stop. If I quit, he has no cigs to steal, and while he thinks he's being sneaky, I could always notice when a few went missing. It doesn't matter ‘cus it worked, I haven't seen him steal one since I started again. You smoke?” He asked, offering the packet to Aziraphale

He could feel his face flush as he shook his head. “No, sir,” Secretly, he knew that part of the reason Crowley had quit was because of him, but he didn’t feel comfortable to share that with the terrifying man.

He chuckled deep in his chest, as if he knew the truth, which unnerved Aziraphale to say the least. “Of course you don't. And please, call me Aleister,”

“Sorry,” He replied, feeling the awkwardness return once more. He silently watched Aleister take one drag after another, savouring each one in the same way Crowley did. He was just about to excuse himself when he spoke up again.

“So, can't sleep?” Aziraphale pursed his lips, shaking his head no and looking down from  the balcony. It was facing the posterior of the house, revealing huge gardens that seemed to spread all the way to the edge of town “Any particular reason?”

Aziraphale glanced up, his mouth itching to share his conflict but something seemed to block the words in his mouth. “I just- had a bad dream.” 

“You know, a problem shared is a problem halved,” He joked, leaning back to grab the ashtray sitting on the isolated table. He stubbed out the cigarette as a bitter smile took over Aziraphale’s face.

“You don't have to-”

I want to,” Aziraphale toyed with his rings and refused to make eye contact. Aleister sighed beside him joining his hands as he leant on the railing. “Azirphale, I know I'm probably not who you want to speak with, but it can't hurt to share with someone who isn’t your 17 year old boyfriend,”

He knew he was correct. He knew the toll this was having on Crowley. They were supposed to be kids, they were kids, they shouldn’t have to be dealing with this. Crowley was and is the only person Aziraphale had been comfortable enough to get close to and open up to, and it was hard letting other people in, especially when he’d been conditioned and brainwashed into never speaking up about what was going on behind closed doors. He knew that if he was going to evolve into a bigger and better person, he was going to have to take that first painful step.

“I'm on the floor,” Aleister’s head whipped around to look at him, as if he didn’t believe he was going to speak about it. But he has to, he must do it. “And he's above me, with his hands around my throat. It's a memory of that night. I know its memory because I remember how I stared at the ceiling and prayed for him to let go. He did, and dragged me down the stairs instead,”

“Except in the dream, he doesn't let go. He keeps his hand there and he's killing me. My father is actually about to kill me and the only thing I can do is pray and that doesn't work so he's standing there above me. Staring at me like I'm the scum of the earth and I realise that I'm about to die and-” He stopped himself as he heard his voice go incredibly high and broken. He gulped and composed himself before he continued. “and that's when I usually wake up,”

There was a pause, where Aziraphale’s confession floated in the air and for an awful second, Aziraphale thought that Aleister wasn’t going to say anything before he replied almost inaudibly. 

“So it was your father? The one who did this to you?” Aziraphale’s eyes widened as he realised he had let out too much. A hand clamped over his mouth as his heart rate sped up.

“You can't say anything,” He begged him, shaking his head pitifully. Aleister’s face scrunched with confusion.

“Aziraphale, you said it yourself, he was trying to kill you!”

“And he will if this comes out. Please don't say anything, I'm begging you,” He turned his body to face him, even willing to go down on his knees to plead with him.

“You're asking a lot of me, Aziraphale,” He said quietly, but Aziraphale refused to let up.

“I know. I know and I know you think I'm insane but I won't be the only one who gets hurt if this comes out,” He straightened up as he took a long deep breath in

“Your mother,” He said and Aziraphale was unsure whether it was a statement or a question.

“Yes,”

“That's why she was wearing that scarf,” He turned back around to face outwards, but his gaze landed sadly down on his hands.

“Yes, and if he were to know I came here of all places, I don't know what he'd do. He's always hated you-” He was surprised when he was cut off by Aleister, who didn’t move from his spot.

“No he hasn't,”

“I’m- I’m sorry?” Aziraphale tilted his head after stammering out a reply. His mind raced with a million different thoughts when Aleister lifted his head out to space and his eyes glazed over with an unknown memory.

“Your father. I know he'd like to pretend that we've always been enemies but that is simply not true,” He walked away from the railing. Aziraphale spun around to watch as he sat himself down on one of the chairs.

“It isn't?”

“Believe it or not, your father and I were friends,” Aziraphale wanted to speak. His father, and Aleister, friends? That seemed impossible, like those three words could never appear in the same sentence together. He wanted to scream, or yell, as his body shut down this idea that had been his foundation for most of his life. Aleister, seemingly oblivious to his inner conflict, continued to speak.

“However, to everyone else, we were rivals. Always motivating the other to do better, but that drove us together, not further apart. I grew close to him, despite the fact his father, your grandfather, loathed me. I don't know why. Possibly because I came from a lower class than them or I was too loud or ambitious. It doesn't matter because he also hated your dad. He tried to hide it, but it's hard to miss the massive bruises on your best friend's face everyday,”

“Eventually, he opened up about what he was experiencing at home, and I wanted to help him, oh how I wanted to help, but what could a 14 year old kid do? He asked me to keep it quiet, because he feared what would happen to him if he ruined his father’s reputation. I felt stuck, like there was nothing I could do until he came to me one day and asked me to do something atrocious,” His voice trailed off as he got lost deeper into his past.

“What?” He asked carefully, walking slowly to sit on the chair opposite him as if he was aware that one wrong movement would scare him off. This didn’t make any sense, he needed more information and the only way to do that was for Aleister to keep talking.

“He asked me to take the blame. Whenever his father lost control and he had no choice but to come to school injured, I volunteered myself as the perpetrator,” Aziraphale’s jaw dropped as millions of questions flooded his brain. It seemed like having him speak was only causing more confusion and not answering any questions.

“Why?”

“Because it was known that we hated each other. His dad hated me so it would make sense he hated me too. I grew up in a sketchy part of town, so it made sense a hood kid would be jealous enough to take his anger out on the town's perfect boy. They see us in school bickering and arguing, so it wasnt difficult for people to believe that our hatred ran deeper than surface level,”

The two of them stood side by side, and for a moment, Aziraphale could picture him not as the formidable man his father built him up to be, but a scared and concerned boy. The moustache had gone and his skin had turned smooth and before him stood a boy who wanted his best friend to be safe.

“You did that for him?” He questioned aloud. The more knowledge he gained about him and his father, the more doors he didn’t know existed opened.

“It was the only thing I could do. I couldn't say anything to anyone, I couldn't do anything myself, so at the first chance to at least ease a little of his suffering, I jumped. For that, we became secretly inseparable and he started opening up more,” 

“I heard it all from him. I was there to listen to his rants about his father’s impossible standards, I was there when he was crying so hard he’d pass out from exhaustion. And whenever I tended to his wounds, secretly behind the school or in the bathroom, he swore to himself that he would never become anything like his father,” He stopped as sourness took over his face. Aziraphale was scared he’d stop talking but he met his eye confidently and never broke his stare. “It was around then I introduced him to your mother,”

Aziraphale leaned forward in surprise. The last thing he’d expected to be mentioned was his mother, but to be fair, he didn’t believe that his father could ever be friends with a Crowley until a few moments ago, so he realised he had to be ready for any surprises he threw his way. “My mother? You were friends with my mother as well?”

“She was like my sister. We grew up on the same street and she didn't have the greatest home life as well. Her father left young and her mother lost herself in pills, so it wasn’t unusual for her to stay over at mine. I cared for her more than I ever have anyone in my life. She wasn’t just nice and kind and smart and funny, she was good . So intrinsically good that wickedness just didn’t exist for her,” A smile formed on his face, and Aziraphale could see the memories behind his eyes shift to happier ones, ones of love and friendship.

“And despite being the most loving and kind woman, she was terrified she was going to end up like her mother. She heard a saying that when we grow up, we subconsciously choose our future partners based on our parents, and she was terrified she was going to end up with a man like her father, so I thought I was doing her a favour by introducing her to John, who refused to grow up like his father, not someone worse,” He finished with a choked sob and Aziraphale felt his entire world view slowly collapsing in front of him as The Aleister Crowley wiped tears from his face.

Never in a million years did he ever imagine he’d see Aleister Crowley cry. Never in a million years did he think his father or his mother would be friends with Aleister Crowley. Aziraphale didn’t know how to feel as his body almost shut down with the influx of information. Aleister silently composed himself in front of him, taking in a deep breath of the February air.

“What happened next?” He didn’t respond right away and instead shook his head dejectedly.

“Aziraphale, if your father or mother never told you this, I don't feel comfortable-”

“Please, I want to know,” He cut him off. He refused to let him leave him wondering for the rest of his life about the past of his parents. It would eat him alive until it was the only thing left for him to think about.

“Once you know, you can never forget it, Aziraphale. If I tell you this, you will never look at them the same. You have to be a hundred percent sure,” There was knowledge behind his eyes. Dangerous knowledge, a forbidden fruit. Did he really need to know this? Up until a few minutes ago, he would’ve been fine not knowing, but now? Now when the truth was at his fingertips? He took in a deep breath, steadying his mind as he spoke.

“I stopped viewing them the same when he tried to kill me and she tried to bring me ‘home’. I have to know,”

Aleister paused as he scanned his face for any insincerity. Aziraphale tried his best to appear strong and confident, but truthfully, the more Alesiter refused to talk, the more unsure he was becoming. He was just about to back down when Aleister broke his gaze away, turning his head out to the gardens beyond them and began his tale:

“It happened a couple years later, when I was about your age. Your grandfather got really sick really quickly, and John was looking after him. The bastard had no strength to go out in public but still refused an opportunity to beat the crap out of his kid. It's late one night when I get a call from your dad. He sounded confused, his words were slurring. He wasn't making any sense, and I got scared something may have happened to him,”

“I rushed to his house, and I could tell there had been a fight. There were pieces of glass on the floor, scuff marks around furniture and that's when I found him. Standing over your grandfather’s body. He was pretty beat up and his father was barely breathing. He said it was an accident, that all he wanted was for him to calm down but he must've put too many of his painkillers in his tea, and that they didn't kick in until midway through their… disagreement,”

“I calmed him down, I made him call 999, whispering to him what he should say, coaching him on what to say when the police got here so that he doesn't get caught. I held his hand until the last possible moment and left him when I started to hear the police sirens. He didn't even make it to the hospital,”

“A couple weeks later, his grandparents came, and although he was only a few months from turning 18, the government placed him in their care and they moved into his house. I guess they got curious about his own wounds, and one thing led to another and I was being arrested for the murder of Samuel Prince,”

“I suppose he told them our lie that we came up with, called the police and they somehow managed to extract and identify my voice in the background of the 999 call. Plus, with a witness seeing me leaving the house as the police pulled up, the odds were not in my favour,”

Aziraphale’s heart dropped. Did his father… murder grandfather. No, no his father would never do that. He was a good man. He sponsors the church, donates to charities he couldn’t have tried to murder his grandfather. And yet Lucy’s old name, which had been in honour of their grandfather, was a stark and jarring reminder of what he was capable of. Hell, the bruises currently residing under Aziraphale’s shirt were reminders enough. Suddenly, he was filled with a sense of overwhelming fear. He was living with a murderer for 18 years. A murderer who constantly used violence to indoctrinate him into obedience, a murderer who had his hand around his neck long enough for him to develop nightmares about him killing him. Oh God, his nightmare now had a whole new sinister meaning to it. It was now a real, speculative alternate reality about Aziraphale’s fate.

And that wasn’t even half of it. The fact that Mr Crowley’s reputation, the one that enclosed his name with insidious tar, might have been fake. It was never him that was the dangerous one in this town, it was his father. For nearly 40, his father had gotten away with murder.

He was still in shock, but his mouth was moving without him realising “Did you…?” He began to ask but he had no idea what his question would be. Luckily, Aleister answered anyway and continued this impossible story.

“No, my parents drained all the money remaining in their savings accounts to bail me out. He convinced his grandparents to drop the charges, but it didn't end the stigma surrounding my name. Obviously, I wasn't invited to the funeral, and I was hurt but I knew why it had to be this way,” He let out a rueful chuckle, still shaking his head in disbelief it actually happened.

“All I wanted was to support my best friend through this tough time, but he barely looked in my direction at school, he didn't agree to our secret meet up anymore or anything. I figured he just needed space so I left him be, but as time went on, he just continued to act cold around me,”

“It was at that time when he got into God and religion, which is funny because he always avoided that stuff as that was what his father used as an excuse for being a dick. I had enough one day, so I confronted him about it, and I…” He paused once more, lost in a distant place in his head. “I still can't get the image of his eyes out of my head,”

“His eyes?” Aziraphale asked, titling his head in confusion.

“They were so full of hatred. None of that pretend loathing that we put on to protect his family’s reputation - real and utter hatred. So strong that I questioned-”

“Whether he ever liked you at all,” He finished quietly.

“Yeah,” He confirmed in a whisper. The two of them looked at each other with mutual understanding.Aziraphale knew those eyes all too well. For a time, he had thought they were the last thing he’d see. They sat in silence and grieved. Grieved for the past, grieved what might have been. But they sat together, the two most unlikely people in this town, in silence.

“So what did you do? Did you expose his lies? Did you try and correct those who thought you were a murderer?” Aziraphale asked after some time.

“No,” The older man said as he stood up. He walked back to the railing, leaning on it with his head hung low.

“No? Why? Why would you do that-” Aziraphale stood up to follow him but he twisted around to cut him off.

“Because he was my best friend! After everything we've been through, he was still my best friend and I wanted to protect him one last time,” He turned back around again and the air turned stiff around them as the sudden loudness diminished.

“So you let the blame fall on you?” Aziraphale joined him by the railing, looking at the older man whilst he refused to lift his head.

“Which is where my infamous reputation planted its insidious roots in this town,”

“And he never said it wasn't you?” He asked. He knew it was a stupid question, otherwise they wouldn’t be having this conversation, but Azitaphale, if nothing else, had to believe. He had to believe that his father was a good man. He had to believe he hadn’t always been corrupted. The father he had once worshipped would never have had an innocent man’s life been ruined and not spoken up about it. Except, he would’ve. Aziraphale’s judgement had just been too clouded to see the type of man his father had always been.

“He couldn't risk old skeletons being dug up, because it was no longer his father’s reputation he couldn’t tarnish, it was his. Anyway, I suppose you can guess what happened next. He starts going along with these rumours, begins to isolate me from my best friend and sister, and allows my indiscretions to grow. And yet after all this time, I still thought he upheld his promise. I knew it was dumb to believe that he never laid a hand on you or your siblings or your mother but… I couldn't live with myself if I knew I allowed Dorothy’s worst fears to become true,” His voice trembled on his mother’s name and Aziraphale felt his shame and regret radiate off of him.

To know that a Crowley wanted to protect his mother more than his father ever did was an impossible idea to him. And yet he was confronted with a much younger version of Mr Crowley, who just wanted the best for his best friends. It was like he was that helpless little child once again and Aziraphale could do nothing expect watch what 40 years of dealing with regret looks like

“She protects me,” Aleister finally looked at him, and his red rimmed eyes were too much for Aziraphale and he looked away. He huddled deeper into the blanket as the air chilled his bones. “I think it's because I'm the youngest but she always offered herself instead of me and I… I can't help but think it's my fault,” He expected Aleister to be angry with him, for allowing his best friend to be hurt everyday, but the older man only grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to look up at him.

“No. Aziraphale, believe me that is a slippery slope you do not want to fall down on. The only person at fault is your father, who was the one to do this to you. Do not excuse his crimes, the only thing you can do to stop it from happening is to come out,”

“Pardon?” He backed away, his eyes growing wide with shock and fear.

“No, not like that. With your story, tell this wretched town about him,” Aziraphale deflated and immediately shut down.

“No. No, I can't,” he tried to walk back to the door, but Aleister grabbed him and spun him around to face him once again.

“You have to. They won't believe me. If you step forward, it may encourage others to do the same. Your brother was the last one who came close,” Aziraphale shoved him off as anger fueled his response.

“My sister nearly got herself killed by stepping up to him. What would've happened if she stepped forward about him?” He got out of there, he was free and yet he was still being reminded of his actions. All Aziraphale wanted to do was forget, he didn’t want the nightmare, he didn’t want the wounds, he wanted to be normal. If he ever told the truth to anyone, his father would ensure he never told anyone anything ever again.

“I won't allow myself to make the same mistake I made at 14. I cannot allow that bastard to keep hurting Dorothy,”

“He's my father. I have a duty to him -  a God given duty -  I can't just betray him. I won't, I can't , I won't,” He huffed out and he could see Aleister’s frustration bubble underneath his skin. He ran his hands through his hair, grunting out a noise instead of responding. They stood opposite each other, and stared at the other, like two animals scanning for their opponent's next attack. Finally, Aleister relaxed and sighed out audibly through his mouth.

“Let me make you a deal, then. By June, when the re-election happens, if I win, you will come out against your father-”

“No-” He didn’t like this proposal at all so Aziraphale started to speak but he was cut off by the older man.

“Let me finish. I can protect you. As mayor, I can ensure that he will never hurt you or your family again and that he will finally end up where he belongs, behind bars,” 

“Or?” He pushed out through gritted teeth. Aleister reluctantly followed up with the second end of the deal, making sure it was clear which side he favoured.

“If I don’t win, you can continue to remain silent about this. I won't make you go back to that house, as that would be cruel, but mark my words, the truth will come out, I’m simply offering you a possibility to have some sort of authority about when it does,” Aziraphale hated to admit it, but there was a reason why Aleister was such a good lawyer, despite his reputation working against him. The deal sounded enticing, and it was becoming Aziraphale closer. He tried to look at this like a Garden of Eden, but Aleister didn’t sound like the serpent, he sounded like God, which unnerved Aziraphale beyond what words could describe.

“Do we have a deal?” He stuck his hand out and Aziraphale eyed it as if it were about to strike him at any moment. Aleister just looked at him, and Aziraphale understood that his decision was being made now, whether he liked it or not.

He began to speak, opening his mouth right as the sliding door behind flew open and Crowley’s voice cut through the both of them “Right 20 minutes is up. I tried to wait -” He stopped in his tracks as his eyes took in the scene before him. Aziraphale immediately straightened up, as if he’d been caught red handed committing a crime “What’s going on?”

“Hello Anthony. I was just having a conversation with Aziraphale here. Is something the matter?” His dad responded so smoothly, Aziraphale almost forgot what they were talking about mere moments ago. Aziraphale, however, was not playing the innocent man as well as Aleister and couldn’t look up to meet Crowley in the eye.

“No, no! I just heard Aziraphale wake up, maybe 20 minutes ago- from my bedroom, and I thought I should check up on him,” He stammered, his gaze still flicking between the two of them.

“You heard him from… down the hall behind two closed doors?” He asked, arching an eyebrow up and confidently looked at his son. Suddenly, Aziraphale had the feeling that they were in a courtroom and Crowley was being interrogated by his father, who had somehow switched the attention around onto his son.

“Yep,” He said, popping the p. He looked up at his father sheepishly until he nodded solemnly and started speaking again.

“Well, I'm sorry to have kept you up by distracting him. You should go back to bed, your injuries are still healing after all,”

“Yep, yeah that's smart. C’mon, angel,” He all but ran off as he gestured to him to follow and Aziraphale did so without complaint. He shrugged the blanket off and placed it back on the chair. Aleister watched him do it with an unreadable expression. Aziraphale met his eye and an inaudible conversation passed between them. The older man turned his back and Aziraphale took that as his cue to leave. Aziraphale was half-way out the door when he had the urge to turn back around one last time.

“Would you do it again?” He watched as Aleister turned around, his own question written on his face “If my father asked you to keep the abuse quiet and take the fall for it, would you?” He watched as Aleister registered the question, thinking before he turned to look at the young biy that resembled his own friend back when he was young.

“The lie granted me 3 more years with your father’s friendship, and in those 3 years, I gained some of my most treasured memories. I would happily burn those memories if there was the possibility for me to stop him from being in that house and the chance I could have protected Dorothy better. I would have rathered him to have hated me but have been safe, then have kept him to myself when he was in danger,” He responded, his voice never quivering even once.

“I don't know what it was that I wanted to hear,” He admitted, a dry chuckle leaving his lips as an insurmountable wave of emotions came crashing down on him.

“A question like that has no right answer, but I cannot change the past, only learn from it so I won't repeat my mistakes,” His words sat between them in the air for a moment before Aziraphale nodded slowly.

“Thank you,” They shared another look, the words that were still unspoken hung in the ait and they knew that eventually, they would get their moment, but for the time, they could put their troubles to rest until the next time they confronted them with a problem. 

“Oh and Aziraphale?” Aziraphale spun back around to look at him. “Tell Anthony to go to his own bed. I know damn well he can be sneakier than that, so if he is to go behind my back, at least give me the decency to do it well,”

Chapter Text

Aziraphale, for lack of a better phrase, was bored out of his fucking mind. And he'd been bored for the better part of the past month and bit he had spent at home. He was still healing from his injuries, which made walking up and down stairs uncomfortable, so he was mostly confined to the 2nd floor of the Crowley residence. That alone, would be awful to deal with, but at least, he had Crowley for the first week after he woke up from his mini coma. However, Monday had soon rolled around and Crowley was forced to go to school, and thanks to his dad ever so nicely excusing his absence due to a 'family emergency', Aziraphale was left alone for the majority of the day. He tried to see Crowley in the morning before he left and he came back from school earlier now that he didn't need to stay late and have his sessions with Aziraphale for the time being. Crowley brought him the class work he had missed for their shared classes, Aziraphale helped him with the homework he didn't quite understand, but they soon fell into a cyclical routine that appeared to be never ending.

Which is probably why Aziraphale was ecstatic for this weekend. Not only was he deemed healthy enough to return to school and introduce some variation in his life, but it was also Crowley's birthday, which he could freely celebrate without conjuring up some elaborate lie to tell his father to allow him to see Crowley. Aziraphale watched through the car window as the several hundreds of students that went to his school poured out the gates. The windows were tinted, so he wasn’t worrying about anyone spotting him and he thoroughly scanned the crowd before his eyes fell on fiery auburn hair. It was clear to Aziraphale he was putting on his bad boy persona, because he was scowling at anyone who so much as looked in his direction and didn’t think to look back at the students he had knocked into whilst walking. 

It baffled Aziraphale now to realise how much of his behaviour is put on, and his past self could never have rationalised the fact that Crowley was only going along with what the public thought him to be like. He couldn’t help the smile on his face as he watched as it physically melted off his body when he spotted the car and started walking straight for it. He checked behind him once, and once he ensured no one was looking at him, swung the door open and shut it quickly enough so nobody could catch a glimpse of the other boy in the car.

Crowley gave him a smirk as he sat down, wordlessly greeting him as his dad looked at him through the rear view mirror “Ready to go?”

Crowley buckled himself in, grabbing Aziraphale’s hand in his before nodding “Yep,”

In Aziraphale’s eyes, it was a shame that Crowley didn’t pick up his father’s driving style. Despite being related to Crowley, Aleister drove smooth and within the speed limit, which was a very nice change of pace from Crowley’s driving. Although the occasional shouts were thrown at particularly slow drivers, they were soon onto the highway and headed towards the country’s capital. He was content to listening to the other boy’s mindless babble about the menial interactions he had at school for a while and he felt the small and unusual shiver of excitement he experienced whenever he was about to start school again after a long break. He pointedly refused to meet Aleister’s gaze in the rear view mirror, feeling a hot flush of warmth take over his face whenever he felt his gaze on him. They hadn’t really talked ever since that night, and Aziraphale was honestly still grappling with a lot of information about his parents. So, he focused back on Crowley, who had just finished his story about what one of his friends had done that day that pissed him off.

“So what are we doing once we get there?” He asked, still holding Aziraphale’s hands.

“Well, we’ve got to check into our hotel. I've booked the ritz obviously, and were having a late dinner there at 8:00,” His dad focused on the roads, flexing his fingers on the wheel with anticipations

“So what are we doing between now and then?” 

“Wait and see,” Aziraphale cut in with a little song as Crowley groaned and tipped his head back against his seat, which made him laugh a little.

“Wait and see? Angel, do you have any idea how infuriating that is?” He smirked at the other boy and purposefully turned away to watch out the window. He felt Crowley before he heard him right in his ear, his breath softly tickling his neck and eliciting another giggle from him “C’mon, I know you want to tell me!”

“You're not getting anything out of me,” he turned to face him, pushing him playfully on his shoulder.

“C’mon!” Its my birthday, you shouldnt be lying to someone on their birthday!” he shook him like a toddler with an easy smile gracing his lips.

“We’re not lying, we're simply gatekeeping information. Besides, it'll ruin the surprise,” His dad cut from the road, turning his head slightly to look behind him. With a groan, Crowley released him from his grip, making a show of huffing and rolling his eyes with annoyance.

“Ugh, fine! This better be worth it,” He shot Aziraphale a grin before looking out the window and fishing out his headphones for them to share. Aziraphale watched in silence, finally meeting Aleister’s eyes in the mirror and prayed that it would be

They reached London within the next hour. Aziraphale watched as the surroundings outside the car rapidly changed from lush green hills and plains to an industrial landscape with towering skyscrapers and bustling streets filled with wonder and life. This was his second time ever being in London, and he recalled with faint memory back to a time where he had never even left Tadfield, and now was in the epicentre of the country. He tried his hardest to hide his awe when they stepped into their hotel, having only visited the restaurant part of The Ritz back in November. It felt like a lifetime ago since his birthday, where there had been a constant stream of that adrenaline felt when doing something you know is wrong in his veins when he last walked these streets, considering he wasn’t even supposed to be in this city.

They dropped their bags in the room and quickly made their way back onto the streets of London. They got the tube, and Aziraphale found that he didn’t mind the way people pushed and walked into him to get on or off as he looked at Crowley, imagining his golden eyes beneath those glasses he wore. He felt giddy the entire time, like a child after eating sugar, and he found that he loved this freedom. 

He wasn't looking over his shoulders to see if he spotted anyone who could report him to his father, he no longer felt the ever-present judgy eyes only belonging to those who live in a small town and he was free to be near Crowley. He was free to touch him, grab his hands, smile at him, peck him on the cheek. And while he knew there were people who would judge them for their relationships, they finally weren’t being judged because of their names, or their family. They were just two boys, happy, in love.

They eventually reached their station and made their way back up to the surface and started to walk leisurely towards their destination. They engaged in easy conversation, with Crowley asking where they were going every 5 minutes and with neither of the other two men willing to relent the information until they arrived and joined a queue into a modern but unremarkable looking building.

“Okay, we are literally queuing for the place, can I please know where we are?” He spun his head to look at the both of them. They gave each other a look, passing an invisible conversation in front of Crowley, who was looking more bewildered and agitated with every passing second. Finally, his dad gave a small nod and Aziraphale turned to look at his boyfriend who had now landed his gaze on the blonde.

“It’s a planetarium. It's brand new, only finished building it a couple months ago,” He revealed, an excited smile creeping on his face as he saw Crowley’s face open with surprise.

“What?” He looked up at his dad, who confirmed his words with a smooth nod.

“Yeah, they use some fancy technology to simulate what actual stars look like. It's a projection but it'll be like they’re opening the ceiling and boom! Stars!” He said, using grand gestures to articulate his point. Crowley smiled and nodded an airy laugh making its way out his throat.

“Oh cool!”

“Plus, you’ve always loved this sort of stuff so I thought it would be perfect for you!” Crowley nodded, but it was clear his enthusiasm and anticipation had died down a little, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“It is. Thank you, dad,” He gave him a short hug and a quick smile, before looking ahead of him and not looking at the other two. Without another word, they gave each other another secret smile as they watched Crowley keep his composure in front of them. They both knew exactly what was passing through his mind at the moment, which is why they cruelly let a moment pass before Aziraphale cleared his throat and brought Crowley’s attention back onto him.

“That’s not the only new technology they've got, dearest,” He admitted quietly, linking arms as the line in front of them started moving forwards slowly.

“It isn't?” He asked, paralleling his previous movements and looking up at his dad who joined them to the other side of Crowley

“They’ve made a special type of glasses - that fix people’s nyctalopia,” At this, Crowley’s step took a stumble as he flicked between the two men with his jaw dropped in disbelief, his mind not computing what he had just heard

“What?” He whispered. Aziraphale grabbed both his hands, pulling him forwards in the line as he stared with wide eyes

“You’ll be able to see the stars as if it was night time,” He caressed his face with his hand, feeling his warmth before linking arms with him once more. He saw the moment it registered exactly what that meant for Crowley, because he started laughing in shock, his shoulders shaking and his head spinning wildly to both of them.

“Oh my god, I dont- I dont know what to say,”

“Thank Aziraphale,” His dad interrupted with a soft smile lifting his moustache up “He's the one that found this place,”

Crowley looked at him, still shaking his head as they continued to slowly move forward “You did this?” He asked, and Aziraphale flushed under his stare, his voice wombling and his eyes unable to land on his face.

“Well, I had a lot of free time on my hands now that you were at school, and I know you've always wanted to see them so I just did what anyone would do,” He shrugged but Crowley stopped them which made Aziraphale shut up quickly enough.

“Angel, no one has ever done what you would do for me,” He looked like he wanted to say something else, something that both of them have thought but never braved to say it aloud. Aziraphale watched with tentative eyes as Crowley searched for his words until he simply decided that actions speak louder than words and he grabbed his face and brought it to his mouth.

Aziraphale accepted the kiss like a thirsty man in the desert, wrapping his arms around Crowley and refusing to let go. He felt his arms coil around his waist and he was faintly aware that everyone around them politely turned away and gave them their privacy whilst silently judging them. Normally, Aziraphale would push off, refusing to interact with Crowley further, but today, he was free and happy and in love so he just hugged him tighter, weaving his fingers into auburn hair as tightly as he could.

Eventually they broke apart when they noticed the line had started moving again and neither of them was willing to face the awkward interaction of a stranger telling them to go so they laughed with amusement and began walking again. 

“This way, you can teach me what each star and constellations is and looks like, and the next time we’re stargazing, I can describe them to you without guessing,” Aziraphale said as Crowley continued to shake his head in disbelief as if he was trying to convince himself that Aziraphale wasn’t just a figment of his imaginations. That he was real and his.

“You’re incredible,” Aziraphale couldn’t help but reach over and give him another small peck on the cheek as Crowley tried his hardest to not give away the butterflies in his stomach. Before either of them noticed, they had reached the front of the line and his dad was pulling up his phone to grab their tickets.

The both of them locked their gazes, and Aziraphale moved to offer his hand to the other boy “Ready?”

Crowley smirked, taking it with a smack “Ready,”

Crowley didn’t know it yet, but that day marked the beginning of a very long life of denying the fact he cried on his 18th birthday, because he was able to see the one thing he had never been able to before in his life. He would spend many years trying desperately to convince everyone around him that he was too cold hearted and uncaring to cry over something as idiotic as a planetarium. At parties, meetups, dates he would reiterate that he wasn’t the soppy type that cried over hopecore videos of old people and pets so he definitely wouldn’t have cried at 18, considering he was more of a bastard back then. 

Funnily enough, it was to the same blonde man by his side, who was the one who argued with him that he did in fact cry in the first place, that he admitted to crying years later, when they were both reminiscing about old memories in the city they lived in over a bottle of red wine. The both of them would pretend it was a revolutionary confession, before sharing a secret laugh of past revelations and secrets and turning the bedside lamp off and embracing each other like they had done for many years before. But that was years in the future, when their bodies began to complain more as they continued to live their life as if they were still 18, and this is now, when they were actually 18, holding hands down the darkening roads with sickly smiles.

“Thank you for doing this,” Crowely whispered and Aziraphale’s body lit up like a christmas tree. He knew Crowley would like it, considering he did cry within the first 5 minutes of the experience and couldn't get his explanations about each constellation without his voice wobbling slightly Aziraphale smiled at the fresh memory, having a feeling it was something he would constantly be bringing up as long as he had Crowley in his life.

“My pleasure. I actually found it all the way back in October when I was researching about Schmid-Fraccaro, and I only remembered it recently when your father asked what we should do when we get down here,” Crowley scoffed with fondness, looking at him with the heart-shaped eyes Aziraphale knew were hiding beneath his shades.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” Aziraphale nodded, squeezing the hand in has with affection.

“You’ve mentioned it,” Crowley just smiled, looking at him like he was the only thing in the world, which Aziraphale related to as he didn’t even realise when Aleister had joined up with them and began speaking. 

“Well, I would suggest we do a bit of shopping to kill some time, but the stores will be closing soon,” He pulled his phone out, probably searching for a place for them to go until dinner.

“We can always do it tomorrow,” Crowley shrugged, taking in the sights of the city, peeking in the various shop windows at mannequins.

“I’ve got us booked to see a matine é performance of Macbeth,” He said without looking up from his phone.

“Oh, is that one of the sad ones?” He turned to Aziraphale and asked, his face already scrunching with disappointment at the answer to his questions

“Yes dear, it's one of the sad ones,” He responded, watching him loll his head back with a groan, which promptly pulled Aleister from his phone and focused on his son with surprise.

“You like Shakespeare!” He exclaimed, which pulled a snort from Aziraphale. He was unsure where exactly he had gotten that impression, because they had spent enough of their tutoring sessions debating his works and the man himself, which usually meant Aziraphale being outraged at the colourful language Crowley used to describe the great English playwright.

“I can appreciate the man's work, I just prefer the funny ones!” He looked at Aziraphale for help, which was like asking a brick wall for advice, because no way in hell would Aziraphale ever be involved in the criticism of Shakespeare. 

“It’ll be fun! I heard they do something really cool with the witches by having them never appear on stage and instead use headphones to symbolise PTSD or something. Isn't that cool? Besides, it's got that actor that everyone says looks like you. What's-his face? Pennant?” He spoke quickly

“Tennant? As in David Tennant?” Crowley said with hesitation. 

His dad clicked his finger and pointed at him with a wide smile. “Yeah him!”

“I don’t look like David Tennant!” He yelled, his voice travelling several pitches. He watched as Aziraphel walked a little ahead of him, looking at his face head on whilst tilting and squinting his eyes.

“No, I sort of see it, dearest,” He said softly, still examining his face. Crowley’s jaw dropped as wild noises of outrage left his mouth

“Okay, what is this? Why are we conspiring against me on my birthday?” He asked, which pulled a laugh from the both of them, much to his annoyance.

“We’re not conspiring against you!” The younger boy said, his face scrunched with an affectionate confusion.

“Yeah, we're just saying that you vaguely look like a 53 year old Scottish actor,” His father continued until he stopped him with a hand in front of his face.

“Okay, it's my birthday and the birthday boy says I don't look like him,” He crossed his arms, raising his head in triumph. They two didn’t cry tears of anguish at their defeat, and instead chuckled quietly at his antics. Aziraphale simply hung onto his arm as best he could as spoke to him with soft words and loving caresses.

“Whatever you say, dearest,” He tried his best to hold out, but Aziraphale was looking up at him with those adorable blue eyes and they were so full of goodness and fondness, that Crowley felt himself relax almost instantly before he sighed in defeat and interlocked their hands again.

“Fine, what about after that?”

“We have to get back home,” He said bluntly, causing Crowley to scrunch his face up and tilt his head.

“Are we not staying the whole weekend?” He asked, and Aziraphale looked at the older man for a response.

“No, we have to get back in time to host your-” He started but was cut off by his son, who stiffened up underneath his touch, as if his father was about to spill some big secret of his. He briefly realised there would be close to nothing that Crowley could say to get him to stop being with him, and in the moment, he couldn’t think of anything.

“Dad, we’ve talked about this,” The two Crowley’s held each other’s gaze for a long time, and Aziraphale sat helplessly between them, with his head swaying side to side.

“Talked about what?”

“It's nothing, angel,” He grunted, pulling away from his father’s gaze, clearly begging to Someone for a topic switch. 

“Anthony, I know what you said previously-”

“And yet you're still bringing it up,” He cut him off again, trying his best to dismiss this conversation he clearly didn’t want to have in front of Aziraphale and distract the other boy from hearing.

“We do it every year,” 

“And this year I don't want to!” He stated, his tone rising with frustration and his head turning back to the older man, who was looking more and more angry with his attitude.

“What’s going on?” He asked helplessly again, looking at Crowley’s face for answers, but nothing was revealed to him as Crowley shook his head and ended the conversation.

“It’s fine, angel. It doesn't matter. We’re done talking about it-”

“For the time being but for the record, Anthony, we’re not,” There was a tense moment between father and son, where Crowley huffed out his indignation and his frustration as he rolled his eyes and looked away from his father. Aziraphale watched with wide eyes, feeling his face grow hot with embarrassment and shame that came with the realisation that Crowley’s simple gesture would have far more severe consequences in his house. 

Aleister cleared his throat, trying to defuse the atmosphere that had grown cold around them. “Shall we go back to the hotel? Rest for a bit before dinner?”

“Fine,” He responded quickly, still not looking at his father as he spoke. Aziraphale watched as he shook his head with disappointment as he watched his son’s attitude influence his behaviour as if he was still a child.

“Yeah, that works for me,” He said with a smile, trying his hardest to keep the peace between them.

“Great,” The older man said, leading them around a corner without another word. Aziraphale sighed, looking at the man he was holding. He was about the start imploring him to tell him what’s going on, or to apologise to his father, when his body collided with something rounding the corner with speed

 The collision caused him to disconnect from Crowley’s grip, and he stumbled back from the momentum. His gaze instinct dived down to the grown, as if watching his feet get stabilised will get him to recover quicker. He felt a sharp pain in his ribs, where his freshly healed bones shouted in alarm, but it passed quickly enough for him to regain his balance.

“Oh sorry, I-” He looked up, prepared to be met with a reprimand, a threat to watch where he was walking, but nothing could have prepared him for what happened next.

It was a woman, her dark hark being pulled up into an updo with small strands framing her face. Her clothes looked a little fancier than his, as evening was slowly approaching and it was clear she was going out. He knew that she liked to dress up for the evenings, because he’d seen her before. He knew that she lived here in this city, and that she used to live in Tadfield.

Used to live in their house.

Because whilst looking at the women, it felt like he was looking into a mirror, and he watched as his own blue eyes grew wide with recognition and her body slumped in surprise. Because the woman in front of him, wasn’t just any woman, it was-

“Lucy?”