Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aziraphale knocked. He smoothed down his jacket and waistcoat, trying not to fidget. It had been a month since they’d last seen each other, and of course, their last interaction was far from pleasant. But he was here now. He was here. Crowley, for all he was a demon, was very good at forgiveness. Aziraphale had to pray that it would be the same today.

There was no answer. He frowned and knocked again. Before coming up to the flat, he’d checked for the Bentley. It made him so utterly sad that Crowley hadn’t told him that he’d been living in the car for the last few years. Why hadn’t he trusted him with that information? He could have stayed in the guest bedroom at the bookshop. It would have been more comfortable. Though a part of Aziraphale wondered if he would have been brave enough to offer, and that part ashamed him. He thought perhaps Crowley didn’t tell him precisely because he couldn’t be sure of Aziraphale’s reaction.

Right. All that was over and done with now. Heaven had washed their hands of him. Aziraphale wasn’t here as an out-of-favor angel any longer. He was just…here. Left to his own devices, with the (very loose) promise not to interfere with Heaven’s future plans. For the first time, it was safe to express every feeling he’d had to repress for thousands of years.

He knocked a third time, including a bit of miraculous amplification inside the flat. If Crowley wanted to ignore him, he could jolly well tell him to go away. That would not be Aziraphale’s preferred direction for this reunion, but he considered that it might happen. After all, the last thing he’d said to Crowley was I forgive you.

Movement. Aziraphale heard the footsteps and scrape of the lock, which gave him a split second of warning before the door swung open. It was not enough time to prepare him. Perhaps no time would’ve been enough to prepare him. He’d thought to see Crowley as he always was, impeccably dressed, polished and impenetrable. Maybe even a little slurred with drink or sleep, if things had been really bad in the last month.

The Crowley in front of him was—there was no other word for it—soft. His hair was mussed in places, sticking up on one side. He wore no glasses, and there were wrinkles from bedsheets across the side of his face. His feet were bare, and he wore a silky black robe loosely tied across his hips, exposing a long V of skin that started above his navel and traveled tantalizingly up to his clavicles. Aziraphale was so transfixed by the sharp jut of that collarbone that he completely missed the dumbfounded expression on Crowley’s face.

“Aziraphale? What are—how—am I dreaming?”

The words acted as a balm, soothing Aziraphale’s doubts. He smiled and lifted his gaze to meet those most beautiful of eyes. So grateful that the serpent wasn’t wearing his glasses. “Not dreaming,” he said. “May I come in?”

Crowley still looked stunned as he backed up and gestured him into the flat. When he closed the door, he leaned back onto it, arms crossing over his chest in a way that spoke of vulnerability and uncertainty. Oh, there was so much to discuss, but Aziraphale’s heart was singing to be so close. He didn’t stop himself as he reached up to smooth out the worst of the Crowley’s tangles.

He’d fantasized about this moment constantly in Heaven. The way he’d gather Crowley’s face into his hands, pull him in for a kiss that was far gentler than the one they’d had in the bookshop. Now, though—well, Aziraphale had never been the kind of angel that could pull off grabbing someone’s lapels and slamming them up against the wall, but if he did fist the shoulders of that silky robe in his hands, he might eventually slide them downwards, exposing so much more of that creamy skin…

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, his voice rough with something that might be sleep or might be something more. Aziraphale didn’t know, he wasn’t experienced enough to know, but the scrape of vocal cords sent a shiver through his entire body. He couldn’t wait one second longer.

In the end, he settled on a compromise. One hand on the demon’s long, sinuous neck; one gripping at the black fabric, his thumb tracing circles on the skin underneath. Aziraphale lifted his lips to Crowley’s and pressed, sensation flooding him, this forbidden act that he’d wanted for so very long, that he’d only gotten a fleeting glimpse of in those seconds when Crowley had lunged at him in anger and desperation. He let out a sigh, the breath skirting across both of their faces, and moved his bottom lip to skim against the demon’s.

It was in that moment that he realized that Crowley hadn’t reacted. His lips and body were both frozen, unyielding. He didn’t push Aziraphale away, but he didn’t join the kiss either. When Aziraphale pulled back only far enough to look into his eyes, he found them impassive, all traces of softness gone.

“Oh,” he whispered, and he stepped back further.

Crowley’s robe was open wider now, and he tied it more firmly closed. He made an entire production of it, keeping his face averted, though Aziraphale didn’t know which of them he was granting time to regain equilibrium. When he was done, he moved toward the kitchen, his back to the angel. “Want a glass?”

A bottle and two empty wineglasses appeared from nowhere, and Crowley held one out as he asked the question, not quite looking at Aziraphale as he did so. Aziraphale cleared his throat and spoke with as much nonchalance as he could muster. “No, thank you, dear. Still a bit early in the day for me.”

Crowley moved to a window and squinted around the blinds. “Is it morning?” He didn’t wait for an answer. With a shrug, the two glasses disappeared. He returned to the main room and sat heavily into a chair, taking a swig of wine directly from the bottle. With a wave at a free seat, he asked, “So are you on an errand or did you earn some time off to visit?”

Aziraphale took the proffered chair. “Neither, actually. I’m what you might call a permanent resident now.”

“What does that mean?” Crowley eyed him with something almost like suspicion.

“What it means is that I’ve been kicked out of Heaven. Not like that—” He held up a hasty hand as Crowley choked on a mouthful of wine. “I haven’t Fallen or anything. They just realized that having me Upstairs means having to deal with me. And, you know, no one’s ever really liked me even in small doses. Full-time Aziraphale was more than they’d bargained for.”

The truth would have stung earlier in his past, but given that he’d deliberately not hidden even the most objectionable (to Heaven’s thinking) parts of himself, he was rather pleased by how well his plan had worked. He owed thanks to George Bernard Shaw for this one. A recent read of Saint Joan had given him the idea. Be exactly himself, and they’d soon realize how much they didn’t actually want him around.

“You seem…self-satisfied.”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure if that was meant to cut. He decided to pretend it was a compliment regardless. “You know me. I’m terrible with Plans. I wanted to make a difference in Heaven, but I knew I couldn’t do that without you, so I had to improvise. Get back here as fast as possible, try to stop the Second Coming in the process.”

Crowley tried to hide his reaction to the words Second Coming, and Aziraphale let him think that he’d succeeded.

“So I spent ninety percent of my time being as Aziraphale as possible, and during the rest, I struck up a friendship with Jesus. It turns out that you can’t have a Second Coming if the Son of God refuses to appear on earth to smite the wicked. Honestly, I think that’s why things didn’t take quite as long as I expected. I thought they’d hold out for at least six weeks, yet here I am, only a month later!”

“Six—” Crowley began, his voice cracking. He cleared it and tried again. “You expected to be gone for only six weeks? And you couldn’t have, I don’t know, given me some indication? Something that said, ‘Oh hey, Crowley, I know I’m taking a promotion and completely betraying our side in the process, but don’t worry, it’s not forever, I plan to be back in month or two, cheerio!’”

“And when would have I have said this something, hm?” Aziraphale sat up straighter and grabbed the ends of his jacket to tamp down his irritation. “Sometime between when I was sobbing because you wouldn’t come with me and when you walked out of the bookshop? How about when you were calling me an idiot? Or should I have asked the Metatron to wait at the lift for a moment while I ran over to the Bentley to apprise you of my plans? Plans, I must say, that I hadn’t even thought up yet, because I was still in a panic over being separated from you and forced to go to Heaven and learning that I would be put in charge of the Second Coming.”

Through this speech, Crowley’s expression had grown dangerous. “You don’t get to be angry with me for this, angel,” he spat. “You’re the one who left.”

“I had to leave!” Aziraphale stood. He couldn’t keep sitting there, staring into those furious yellow eyes. He roamed the room, hands gesticulating wildly. “I wasn’t offered a job—I was Offered a Job. I was going back to Heaven regardless of my wishes. There was nothing I could do about it. He gave me a lifeline. He said I could bring you with me. I’m sure it was meant to provide me with a distraction in Heaven, or maybe it was his attempt to keep you from trying to stop the Second Coming. I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. All that mattered to me was that it was a way to keep us together. Only you said no. You turned me down, and I was stuck going Upstairs alone. It was…devastating.”

“Devastating,” Crowley repeated, and the sneer that Aziraphale expected to hear was absent. He turned and found the demon watching him without ire. Without friendliness, either, but it was improvement, nonetheless. Aziraphale suspected the devastating was an echo, acknowledgement that they’d both been in pain.

“So yes,” he said, and sat down across from Crowley again. “I am pleased with myself. Heaven thinks they’ll be able to talk Jesus ’round now that I’m gone, but that’s not going to happen. I couldn’t change Heaven on my own, but at least I managed to stop the Second Coming. And then I got myself kicked out after only a month. Kicked out in a way that makes me absolutely, utterly free like I’ve never been before, not even these last few years.”

Long minutes passed before either of them spoke again. Aziraphale waited. Once again, he tried not to fidget. Eventually, Crowley took another swig from the wine bottle and then pointed the neck at him. “Good for you.”

Aziraphale’s heart sank. Neither of them had ever needed to state things explicitly to make their meaning known. Those words separated them. He was forgiven for leaving, but he would not be trusted again after breaking Crowley’s heart.

“Well,” he said as he stood again. “I should be getting back to the bookshop. Muriel is now the official ambassador to earth from Heaven. They’re continuing at the shop while we work out some sort of arrangement. Likely much of my time will be occupied trying to find a new place to live with sufficient space for my books, but I wanted to stop by to say hello to you first. I’m sorry that I…presumed.”

Aziraphale gestured vaguely toward his own face and then at Crowley. He moved to the exit.

“Angel?” Crowley said as Aziraphale opened the door. He looked over his shoulder. “See you around sometime?”

It was only a tiny lifeline, a very thin ray of hope, but it would have to do. Aziraphale smiled and nodded before he left the flat.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale planned to wait a week before reaching back out to Crowley. By that time, he would think of some excuse to pop over to the flat, or perhaps send an invitation. In the meantime, he really did need to plan for his future, which could not continue in the bookshop. With Muriel becoming the new ambassador here, the shop would allow for full-time access by Heaven. It had been that way prior to Armageddon, but no one Upstairs paid much attention to earth at that point. Aziraphale suspected they would keep a closer eye on Muriel, make sure they didn’t get corrupted like him.

Unfortunately, he knew little about realty in the modern age and his newspapers were bafflingly unhelpful. So few properties listed, so few details given. He would have to make phone calls, phone calls to sales people, and he abhorred the thought. This was so much easier when he could miracle what he needed into the proper order.

With a sigh, Aziraphale set aside his paper and looked out the window at the street beyond. He supposed he would have to make his way to a realty office. While he expected that a single look at him in his fusty old clothes would give the impression that he was an easy mark, he hoped that his character judgement was sound enough to find someone honest to work with.

No time like the present, he thought as he put his glasses down on the paper. Except the shop bell was tinkling to let in a new customer, and Aziraphale gladly seized on the excuse to avoid the unpleasant task a little longer.

“How can I help—oh! It’s you, Mr. Crowley,” Muriel said.

Aziraphale’s heart leapt. He hesitated before putting on his glasses again and pulling the newspaper back up.

“Still just Crowley. No Mr. necessary,” Crowley said. “S’Aziraphale in?”

“Through the back room. I can get him if—”

“No need. Thanks, Muriel.”

Aziraphale tried to read the print in front of him, but his hands were trembling slightly as he listened to the approaching footsteps. It had only been two days since they’d seen each other. Only two days, and Crowley had sought him out. His heart was singing, and it was all he could do not to jump out of his chair and throw himself into the demon’s arms.

Crowley knocked, though the door was open a foot already. Aziraphale looked up to see him poke his head inside. “Am I interrupting?”

The angel smiled and shook his head. He folded the newspaper, letting it stay in his lap. “Not really. I was looking through realty listings but the market must be slow right now.”

Glancing down at the paper, Crowley laughed. “Oh, angel, that settles it. I’m taking you out.”

“I—what?”

“You can’t look for property in a newspaper anymore! It’s all online. I was thinking about what you said the other day, about being a permanent resident now, and I thought maybe it was time to help you…catch up. Get you a phone. Some new clothes. It’s the twenties now. You can’t keep living like it’s the nineteenth century.”

“I don’t live like—” Aziraphale bit his tongue. He wanted Crowley to make excuses to see him, even if those excuses involved ideas he could live without. For a moment, he was suspicious. Was the demon taking advantage of the situation, knowing he would agree to just about anything to stay in his company right now? Crowley had removed his glasses upon entering, though, and his eyes looked hopeful, not devilish. Aziraphale lowered his eyes and muttered, “I do have a computer, you know.”

Crowley snorted. “It’s ancient. Practically an antique. You could probably donate it to a museum. Sell it online as a novelty.”

Pursing his lips, Aziraphale set aside the paper and his glasses. “Compromise? Phone, but no new clothes.”

“Oh, angel, do let me have some fun, will you? Three outfits. I’ll choose, and I swear not to put you in anything you’ll hate once you get used to the idea of it. And I’ll buy, too. All you have to do is humor me.”

Aziraphale considered it. “I want one veto per outfit.”

“Then you have to agree to wear each outfit at least once. In public.”

Crowley held out a hand, and after only a tiny bit of hesitation, Aziraphale shook it. “You’re not going to make me wear a suit like Gabriel’s, are you?”

“Fuck, no. Never.”

“Oh thank goodness.” They grinned at each other, and suddenly Aziraphale realized their hands were still clasped. He pulled back and stood. “Right. No time like the present?”

Crowley put his hands in his pockets. “Sure,” he said, the word neutral, but the angel could see the pleased tilt to his lips.

They started with the phone. Aziraphale noticed that Crowley didn’t speed quite as much as he used to as they drove across town. He refrained from commenting. Any overture was a good sign, and remarking on said overture was a good way to sever it. He also let Crowley do all the choosing for him regarding the phone. The store was bright and loud and confusing, and he wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

“Look,” Crowley said once they were back outside again. “I’m your first saved number.”

Aziraphale took the phone gingerly, staring at the words Anthony J Crowley in his Contacts. “Why do I need to save your number? I already know it by heart, and if I somehow ever forgot, I have my rolodex.”

For a second, he could swear Crowley’s expression was fond, but then the demon laughed. “This is your new rolodex. And look—”

He snatched the phone back and held it out. It took a moment for Aziraphale to understand what he was doing, and by that time, he’d already taken a photo of himself. His forehead was tilted toward the screen, glasses pulled down just slightly to get a better angle of a raised eyebrow. It was an expression that Aziraphale was very familiar with. It said are you listening to me and you’re not serious are you and I know something you don’t. A moment later, said expression was saved as his contact photo.

“Still up for clothes shopping?” he asked, handing the phone back to Aziraphale.

He wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, and held it awkwardly in one hand, packaging in the other, as they walked through the car park toward the Bentley. “I suppose so.”

“Oh! Hold on a moment. I forgot something. You go on, I’ll just run back in for a moment…”

Thankful that he wasn’t being asked to return to the store alongside him, Aziraphale continued to the Bentley. He nearly dropped the phone when it began buzzing in his hand. That ridiculous photo of Crowley was showing on his screen. It took Aziraphale two attempts before he managed to swipe open the call. He hadn’t even said hello when Crowley said, “Angel! Pick a color—black, white, or pink sand.”

“Is there a context to this question?”

“Black. White. Or pink sand.”

Aziraphale sighed. “What does pink sand even mean?”

“Pink sand. Got it. See you in a bit, angel.”

“Crowley—” But the demon had already hung up, and Aziraphale was left staring at a screen full of little squares that Crowley called Apps. He wasn’t even sure how to turn the phone off. After a few seconds, the screen dimmed and then shut itself off. That was neat. What an ingenious design.

He continued on to the Bentley, and was only waiting inside—such a lovely car, to know him and open for him even when technically locked—for a few minutes before Crowley joined him. Crowley handed over a bag. “Put this on your phone. It’ll protect it if you drop it, and it has a built-in battery for when you forget to charge it.”

“Charge?” Aziraphale asked as the Bentley sped out of the car park. He had so much to learn. It was daunting, and they hadn’t even gotten to the clothes portion of the day yet. He pulled the case Crowley had bought out of the bag. It was a pale salmon color. Pink sand, he supposed. Well, that was more interesting than black or white, even if white was more angelic. It took him the rest of the ride to figure out how to put the stupid thing onto his phone.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” Crowley said while Aziraphale struggled, “and I have ideas. Goal today is to find you an everyday go-to type ensemble, then something a little more casual for when you’re staying in, and a more formal outfit for special occasions. I have a few things in mind for each.”

“That sounds far more thought-out than I would expect for a suggestion you made a mere hour ago.”

For a moment, Crowley didn’t respond. Aziraphale wondered if he’d mis-stepped. Then the demon laughed and said, “You don’t think I haven’t considered forcing you to update long before now?”

An admission. Another overture. Aziraphale walked the tightrope back, tugging at his jacket as he said, “I like my clothes, Crowley.”

“And you take wonderful care of them. Tell me this, though. Have you ever thought that it might be useful on occasion to blend in?”

Considering that he’d literally had this thought while making plans to visit a realty office that very morning, he couldn’t deny it. He wasn’t going to admit it aloud, though. “And you expect that you’ll be able to help me blend in, the demon who stands out in every circumstance?”

Crowley looked so pretty when he blushed. “I choose to stand out. You can do that when you keep up to date. Doesn’t mean I can’t help you do the opposite.”

So Aziraphale let him take charge again. In the store, Crowley led him to a dressing area, where he had his measurements taken—You do know I already have a tailor, yes?—and was then told to wait. The only time Crowley asked for his opinion was on an array of three tartan-esque fabrics. “Hmm, depends on what it’s for.”

“Pick your favorite, or I’ll decide.”

He picked the green version with thin tan stripes.

Aziraphale was a little worried that Crowley would go so far as to insist on dressing him. Thankfully, he only presented three separate packets of clothing and asked him to try on the first.

It comforted him, the spread of color and style. Crowley actually had kept his tastes in mind. Less comforting was the sheer lack of clothing. He needed layers, and there were not enough of them here.

With a sigh he kept inaudible, Aziraphale started with the tartan. White linen shirt that buttoned too tight around his neck—he’d have to get that altered—with a tartan waistcoat and matching trousers. This much tartan was a bit over the top, even he could admit. He buckled the black belt and buttoned his cuffs. His reflection looked…ridiculous. Even though Crowley hadn’t specified, he added his bowtie. It didn’t match, but he was sure he could find one that did.

He wasn’t sure it would matter.

“Crowley? I don’t think this is going to work.”

“Come out here. Let me see.”

This time, Aziraphale’s sigh was loud. His face was warm even before he stepped out of the dressing chamber. Whether it was because he knew Crowley so well or because he was watching extra carefully, he caught the smothered amusement on the demon’s face. “See?” he whined. “Even you think I look ridiculous!”

“No, you just need—” He approached but stopped short of actually touching Aziraphale. “May I?”

When Aziraphale nodded, Crowley unknotted his tie and tossed it aside. He undid the top few buttons of the too-tight collar and smoothed them down, points toward the waistcoat. Running a critical eye up and down the angel’s body, he reached for one sleeve.

“What are you—?”

“Do you trust me?”

Aziraphale bit his lip. He didn’t have a good answer. He trusted Crowley conditionally, and he supposed it would be difficult for this particular wardrobe selection to get worse. He still had a veto he could use. “I suppose.”

Crowley’s lips twitched. He rolled Aziraphale’s right sleeve to midway up the forearm, buttoning it into place before doing the same with the left. Then he stepped back, gave him another critical once-over, and nodded. “Perfect. We’ll get shoes and accessories later, but this is a brilliant base.”

“Don’t tease.”

“I’m not! I swear, angel. Come here. Take another look.”

Crowley hooked one of his elbows and pulled him to a full-length mirror. At first, Aziraphale could only see wrongness. The naked forearms, the untidy collar, the tartan too prominent rather than used as a subtle accent. Then Crowley stepped beside him, and he saw the way the two of them looked together. The ensemble clicked into place in his mind. New, stylish, updated but not boring, something that would fit in with any number of people who frequented the shops along his street. He felt younger, somehow, or maybe just newer. Like someone that a certain type of person might be attracted to.

“You need a bracelet or two,” the demon said, brushing light fingers over his wrist. “Or a watch if you prefer. Black shoes to match the coloring. I think you chose the right fabric, though. Good eye. It’s the one I would have picked out for you as well.”

Crowley’s fingers lingered on his wrist. Aziraphale hadn’t yet managed to speak. Their eyes met in the mirror.

“So? What do you think?”

“Oh, Crowley. I look…dashing.”

He laughed. “That’s the spirit! Of course you do. Any veto?”

“I’ll save it. And, um, can I get this in all three of those fabrics?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “You like it that much?” When Aziraphale nodded enthusiastically, he said, “I’ll see what I can do. You should try them each on, make sure you like them. The patterns might change how you present.”

After he left, the man who had taken his measurements returned. He smiled at Aziraphale and said, “Just checking in, sir. Everything going well?”

“Oh yes! I didn’t expect it, to tell you the truth. I’m afraid my own tastes run rather out of fashion.”

“I noticed,” he said, but with a smile that clearly said he found the trait charming rather than silly. “Brave of you to step out of your comfort zone.”

Aziraphale felt even more buoyed up by the compliment. “My friend has a good eye.”

“He sure does.” The words carried an undertone that Aziraphale couldn’t quite parse, but before he could ask, the man said, “Is he your partner?”

Oh. Well, this was flattering. He was flirting. And another nod toward Crowley’s impeccable taste in clothes. However, it wouldn’t do to have this man accidentally use the word partner in front of the demon. Not when things were so fragile between them. “Old friends, that’s all.”

The man, whose name was eventually revealed to be Noah, beamed at him. By the time Crowley returned, the two were chatting like old friends. A tiny part of Aziraphale thrilled at the frown that ghosted across Crowley’s mouth at the sight of Noah’s hand on his elbow.

The angel left the shop with seven items. The first five were outfits. Two of the tartan fabrics had worked, and Crowley—with Noah’s encouragement—talked him into three other ensembles. Aziraphale almost vetoed the jeans that Crowley paired with a downy jumper in dark green. The jumper’s sleeves were a lighter green and had actual leather elbow patches, which was delightful enough that he accepted the jeans. Then there was the “more formal” outfit that consisted of matching pale blue trousers and tight-fitting jacket, a dark blue floral button-down worn underneath. Collar undone, of course. Apparently, modern fashion called for open necks.

“Because you don’t want to dress like Gabriel,” Crowley said when he asked why.

Aziraphale’s favorite outfit, though he would never admit it, consisted of a grey tweed waistcoat over a collarless shirt with dramatic folded-back cuffs. Crowley and Noah argued over whether black or charcoal trousers paired better, and Aziraphale ended the argument by choosing both.

The last two things he left with were Noah’s number stored in his new phone, and the beginnings of a plan regarding the situation with Crowley.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale read the manual for his new phone and was frustrated that it told him just about nothing. What was the point of a manual if it wasn’t going to provide information? He did learn about charging, so that was one less thing to worry about. Still. Looking at all those Apps only filled him with trepidation. He wasn’t ready to venture into them alone, so he left the phone in his bedroom to charge as he settled into his comfy office chair to work on his Plan.

A bucket list. As an immortal being with almost unlimited time on his hands, he’d never felt the need to indulge in the human idea of listing all the things he wanted to do someday. Besides, his life had provided him with quite a large spread of experiences. He’d traveled the world, eaten just about every kind of cuisine ever invented, been to concerts and plays, read so many books…but there were also things he hadn’t done, and his Plan revolved around these.

Of course, most of the items on his mental list involved a certain demon and all the ways they had never been able to indulge themselves before. The last month spent in Heaven’s expansive white halls had given Aziraphale a lot of free time to imagine. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t ever considered the idea of being with Crowley physically, but before, the scenarios in his mind were vague copies of things he’d read in his books or seen in plays. A copy-paste layover of himself and Crowley into the roles written for literary consumption. Even though their first kiss had been messy and emotionally fraught and not at all kind, it had still awakened nerve endings and given an injection of realism into his fantasies. He knew what Crowley tasted like now.

However, he couldn’t simply make a bucket list full of the things he wanted to do with (and to) Crowley. If he wanted this to work, he had to make the list far more natural.

So Aziraphale got to work. What had he not already done in the past? What would he consider doing in the future, to play along with this idea? He listed a few silly things—go ice skating, learn a new modern(ish) dance, throw a surprise party—before he put in his first real entry, to have a (true, reciprocated, and sweet) kiss. The more he wrote, the more enthusiastic he got about the other items on the list as well. He’d never been on an airplane before. They terrified him. It would be good to get out of his comfort zone, as Noah had phrased it.

Swim in a public pool. Go on a date. Join a book club. Karaoke. Dye his hair. Spend the night with someone. Learn a new dance. Take a gardening class. Have sex. Aziraphale had over two dozen potential entries before the phone rang in the bookshop.

He almost got up to answer it, then remembered that the shop was technically Muriel’s now. Their conversation was indistinct—he certainly hadn’t kept the door to his office open today, not while he was making this type of list—but short. A moment later, they knocked on his door.

Aziraphale turned the list facedown and said, “Enter.”

“Mr. Crowley—I mean, Crowley—he’s on the phone for you?”

“Oh! Jolly good.” He tried to contain his excitement as he went to answer. Surely the demon would hear it over the line if he was smiling too hard. “Good afternoon, Crowley.”

“Angel. Where is your new phone?”

“Upstairs in my room. Why?”

“You do know the whole point of having a phone is to be reachable, yes?”

Puzzled, Aziraphale said, “But I am reachable? You just reached me.”

The growl that came over the line was frustrated. “Go upstairs and call me on your damn phone.”

“Crowley, I—” Too late. He’d hung up already.

With a sigh, Aziraphale collected his bucket list—he definitely wasn’t going to leave it lying around for Muriel to find—and returned to his bedroom. On his phone, he found a series of texts. The first was from Noah, a simple, ‘Good morning, sunshine. How are you today?’ The rest were from Crowley.

As he read through them, his heart sank. The demon had invited him to brunch at the Ritz. An overture if ever there was one. To show off his new clothes, he said in the second, when Aziraphale didn’t answer. A third, after a pause, asking if he should get a reservation. When enough time passed, a message that simply said, ‘it’s ok I understand.’ Another long pause. Then, ‘wait you don’t even have your phone do you’ followed by ‘ffs angel.’ Aziraphale wasn’t sure what that last one meant. The texts ended there, and he saw that he’d missed two calls from Crowley as well, one earlier in the morning, one before the call to the shop. Right as he was trying to figure out how to return the call, another text came through. ‘I asked you to call.’

Polite. Frigidly so. Feeling helpless, Aziraphale opened his texts again. At least there was a keyboard there. He could type. ‘I’m trying,’ he tapped out one-fingered, taking far too long to figure out where to find all the punctuation. ‘I don’t know how to use this phone.’

The phone buzzed in his hand and he nearly dropped it, same as the day before. Crowley’s name came up across the top of the screen. Feeling apprehensive, he hit the answer button and said, “Hello?”

“I guess we should have had a lesson yesterday,” Crowley said, and to Aziraphale’s relief, he didn’t sound polite, frigid, or any kind of angry. He didn’t know if he’d misread the tone of the message or if his admission that he was helpless in the face of this technology had thawed the demon. “Sorry about that.”

“I’m sorry I missed your texts. Brunch would have been nice.”

“Yeah. Well.” He cleared his throat. “I should have thought to call the bookshop earlier.”

An awkward silence followed. The phone didn’t sound like his landline. There was no background connection noise, and it made Aziraphale anxious. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know how to tell if Crowley was still on the line.

“What are you wearing?” Crowley finally said into the silence.

Aziraphale cringed, remembering the text about showing off his new clothes. “Just my normal things, I’m afraid.”

“I thought you liked what we bought yesterday?”

The words were neutral, but he detected disappointment anyway. After a split second of hesitation, he decided to admit the truth. “I did. I do. And I did try this morning, Crowley. I couldn’t make it work without you.”

A slight pause, and his next words came across cautious. “They’re more modern than you’re used to, but I didn’t pick out anything terribly difficult. I know you’re perfectly capable of dressing yourself.”

“Of course I am!” He huffed when the demon’s laughter trickled over the line. “What I mean is that I look…that it doesn’t work…I look silly without you beside me, Crowley.”

Aziraphale bit his lip as a new silence descended, this one fraught and nerve-wracking and dangerous. His heart beat so loud in his ears that he worried he would miss any response, assuming that any response came. The line was so silent that he didn’t know if he’d even be able to tell if Crowley hung up on him.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute, for all it felt like an hour, when Crowley let out a long exhale and said, “Want me to come over? If you’re not busy, that is. Muriel said you were in your office, but you couldn’t have been working on property listings again without your phone, I hope.”

“No, not busy,” Aziraphale said too quickly. He wasn’t ready to share the bucket list yet.

“Then get changed. I’ll be there soon. Maybe we’ll do…whatever the equivalent of brunch would be in the afternoon. And I’ll teach you a few tricks for your phone. Keep it with you this time, yeah?”

He agreed, and was happy to find that when Crowley ended the call, there was a series of beeps to indicate it. One thing he no longer needed to fret over.

By the time Crowley arrived, Aziraphale had put on the first outfit they’d chosen the day before. He couldn’t seem to make the collar and cuffs lie correctly, and he felt awkward and silly again. To distract himself, he responded to Noah’s text with an apology for not seeing it earlier, and they chatted for a few minutes. Aziraphale was proud that he even figured out how to take and send a photo in the new outfit per Noah’s request. His nerves were a bit more settled when the Bentley pulled up to the curb. He signed off with Noah and slipped the phone into his pocket as he went downstairs to meet Crowley.

He felt better instantly when Crowley walked through the front door and smiled at him. “I don’t know what you mean, angel. You look fine.”

Aziraphale tugged at his rolled-up cuffs self-consciously. “Maybe I need to get used to it.”

“Only going to do that by forcing yourself to wear it.” Crowley put his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunching up slightly. “Want to get a coffee over the road? Then I can teach you a bit about how to use your phone?”

Part of him wanted to object, to stay here at the bookshop where he didn’t have to face anyone looking so different from his usual self. He’d promised to try, though. It would give him practice for a few of the more daunting items on his bucket list. He nodded and followed Crowley across the street to Nina’s coffeeshop.

She gave him a raised eyebrow to rival the demon’s when he entered and said, “I see Crowley dressed you today.”

Aziraphale blushed, but Crowley spoke before he could say anything. “Like I would be caught dead dressing someone in tartan.”

The eyebrow raised even more—she was not buying his fib—but Nina only took their orders without further comment.

They sat at a table at the far end of the café, and Crowley spent the next hour showing Aziraphale some of the basics of using his phone. Aziraphale was embarrassed to discover that the picture he’d taken for Noah was saved to his photos. He stuttered over the explanation of it, and Crowley ordered a second gigantic cup of espresso afterwards.

At moments like these, Aziraphale didn’t like this brave new world. The old one was so much simpler. He’d known what to do and what to say, even if those things were not always the ones he’d choose if he’d had a choice. So much was new. The phone, the clothes, the minefield of his friendship with Crowley. The direction of his future. Perhaps he should have made these changes gradually instead of resisting them for so long. It might make the present less uncomfortable.

However, Nina called out to him as they left the coffeeshop, saying she thought his outfit suited him, and he and Crowley went to whatever-the-equivalent-of-afternoon-brunch-was at the Ritz, and Noah left him a text saying that he hoped his day had been happy. So it wasn’t all bad. Maybe Aziraphale would adjust in time. He sent back a note to Noah, then a string of emojis to Crowley to annoy him, before he put his phone away for the night.

Chapter Text

‘How do I make a list on this phone?’ Aziraphale texted to Crowley the next afternoon.

‘what kind of list’

He hesitated, and before he could figure out how to reply, he’d already gotten a second response.

‘if you want a to-do list you can use reminders like I showed you or you can download an app’

‘What about something more general?’

‘let me guess youre making a list of books you still want to get’

‘Crowley. Are you going to help or not?’

‘notes app is prob easiest if you don’t want to download smth’

Aziraphale navigated to the square called Notes. The icon looked like a notepad. That made sense. ‘Thank you,’ he wrote.

‘np’

It took the angel a minute to work out what that meant. It took another hour to type each item of his bucket list into a Note. The lines wouldn’t format the way he wanted them to, and he couldn’t figure out how he was meant to cross out any that he completed. Not that he’d completed any yet, but he wanted the option for the future. Determined to figure this one out on his own, he played around until he found the checkmark emoji. That would do.

The phone buzzed with another text, this time from Noah. ‘Hallo! I wondered if you might be free tmr? Maybe we cld get coffee or drinks or something?’

Aziraphale considered the offer. Noah was kind and he enjoyed the idea of being friends with him, but he also didn’t want to mislead the man. That was a conversation that was probably better in person than over text, though. He still struggled to read tone this way.

‘Coffee sounds lovely,’ he wrote, and they coordinated a time. Aziraphale chose a café several blocks away—a place close enough to walk to but where he was unknown. Better to not have a convoluted version of this meeting get back to Crowley via Nina or anyone else familiar with him on this street. It was incredible that he could do a quick search of the map on his phone to get this information. Only two days, and he was already seeing the value of this technology. Becoming addicted to it. Crowley would be so smug if he knew.

‘angel im bored,’ Crowley wrote as evening came on. Then, ‘what kind of list,’ followed by, ‘you’re not really acquiring more books are you’ and ‘don’t you have to find a place to store them ooh is that what youre doing making lists of property?’ and finally ‘aaaaaaangel…’

Aziraphale didn’t really understand his haphazard use of punctuation and capitals. Several times during this onslaught of texts, he started to respond, only to have a new message come in before he could type out more than a word or two. Eventually, he stopped trying until it seemed the barrage was over. ‘Really dear, you must give me time to reply. I’m very slow.’

‘did you know that ending your texts with periods every time makes ppl think your angry w them’

What? That couldn’t be true. Aziraphale decided to ignore that as a demonic attempt to make his own texts untidy. ‘It’s not a property list. But it’s private. I’m sorry you’re bored.’

‘youre no fun’

He ignored that as well. He really should start to look at realty selections. Muriel would need a legitimate shop in the near future.

Instead, he got distracted by looking into Details for his list, munching idly on a few biscuits while he did so. Aziraphale was not ignorant about sex, but he had almost no education on the minutia of the act. Most of what he’d read over the years focused on straightforward heterosexual partnerships. While he and Crowley didn’t technically have genders, they both wore male bodies and would therefore have to work with the accompanying parts. (He didn’t want to think about what either Heaven or Hell would make of the miracles that would be required to make changes. Better to simply accept what was.)

Even beyond allowing for the body difference, Aziraphale hadn’t read much in the way of erotica. Most of his books on romance ended with a kiss, anything further fading to black or into poetic metaphors. Neither would work for his situation. He needed to learn. His quest to do so led him down so many new roads—sex shops and pornography websites, kink culture and cruising, specific positions and acts that he’d never even considered. Several new items went onto the bucket list, ranging from rimming to buy and learn to use a sex toy. Thank goodness this version of his list was only on his phone. After a moment, he decided to add a password to the note.

‘angel I’m still bored’

Aziraphale was rather not bored at that moment. He’d hit upon a specific video that caused his insides to turn to liquid. His only previous experience with pornography was in print form: magazines with pictures that usually didn’t do much for him; the few bits of erotica he’d accidentally acquired with his more precious books.

Sure, he’d seen sex in person before. There were time periods in history where group sex and public sex were far more normalized, and it had always been his job to understand humans and their desires. He never would have admitted it to anyone, but Aziraphale enjoyed watching the act. It filled him with an illicit kind of thrill, especially when the viewing had a suggestion of secrecy over it. Voyeurism, though he would never have watched someone without at least a general consent. Usually, however, there was some distance between him and the participants. Nothing quite so visceral and explicit as this. That people created these videos specifically to be watched and lusted over—it was both startling and tantalizing.

This particular video had a thin premise of one man teaching another about gay sex for the first time. Aziraphale was not interested in the plot. He couldn’t stop staring as the first man—tall and lithe, with faintly auburn hair and a long tongue—stroked said tongue up the other man’s cock. The noises that came from saliva against shaft as he took the cock fully into his mouth caused Aziraphale to whimper. His imagination filled in details. The scent of arousal, the tickle of hair against his lips if his mouth was doing the work; the slick sliding of tongue over his sensitive skin if it was Crowley taking him this way. He could hear the demon panting, moaning, and he was only half-conscious of his free hand stroking up and down his crotch over his trousers.

‘are you ignoring me? Or do I need to call the bookshop again’

Fuck. Aziraphale swiped away the text to return to the video. He didn’t know how much time he had and he didn’t want Muriel to knock on his door while he was in this state. It would have been better to take this slow and enjoy it—after all, he couldn’t remember distinctly the last time he’d taken himself in hand. He wasn’t easily aroused except by one specific circumstance, and it had always felt wrong to think of Crowley while he touched himself. Violating, somehow, though the demon probably would have laughed at him for that if he’d known. So he’d only ever done it in a sideways manner, like now, watching a video where the star of the show looked just close enough to arouse him without making him feel guilty.

He hastily yanked down his trousers and boxers, pulled his jumper up high enough to be out of the firing line, and laid back on the bed. The video wasn’t long and he’d already had to restart it twice, so he scrolled back to his favorite part and tried not to moan too loudly as he stroked himself in time with the movement of that glorious tongue on screen. He timed it perfectly, getting closer and closer to the edge as the auburn man took that cock deeper into his throat, and he came just as the other man bucked up into his mouth, seed spilling out from the edges of puffy red lips.

Aziraphale stopped the video and dropped the phone with a groan. He would have to save the link, watch this again when he had more time to go at a slower, more relaxed pace. For now, he quickly wiped himself up with a towel miracled from nowhere and put his clothes back into order.

Crowley had sent two more texts. ‘what are you doing’ and ‘send me a picture’

The angel’s heart thudded at the last one, feeling like he’d been caught even though that was impossible. With shaky hands, he managed to type, ‘You do know that I have things to do other than entertain you, right?’

‘NO. FUN. AT. ALL.’

‘Is that meant to be shouting?’

Crowley replied with a photo of himself glowering at the camera from behind his sunglasses. The effect was ruined slightly by the clear image of bedsheets and a pillow under his head. Another leap of Aziraphale’s heart. He wondered if the demon was thinking about him. Well, of course he was, given his incessant texting, but if he was thinking about Aziraphale in a bed kind of way. He wasn’t quite sure where this boldness was coming from, but he scootched up to the top of his own bed and lay down on the pillow. His return photo wasn’t glowering, but smiling in an amused, knowing manner. He didn’t know if Crowley would catch the meaning there, but his body was still aching and phone sex was another item on his list that he was determined to explore one of these days.

‘you ok angel? You look flushed’ followed immediately by ‘wait are you wearing your new jumper??!!??’

Thank goodness he could pass over that first question. Aziraphale’s courage was already disappearing. At Crowley’s words, he realized that his photo clearly showed the flush that crept up from his chest to neck as he approached orgasm, not yet receded, as well as pink spots high on his cheeks. His hair was mussed from where he’d thrown his head back over and over as he stroked himself. If Crowley looked closely, he’d easily be able to see that this was a photo of a thoroughly fucked angel. Well, not thoroughly, but close enough.

‘It’s soft,’ he wrote. ‘Not wearing the jeans, though. They’re uncomfortable. I should have vetoed them. Sorry.’

‘don’t need to apologize, I shd have known better. I like that color on you tho, goes well with your eyes’

Warmth stirred inside Aziraphale. Before he could second-guess himself, he typed, ‘I want a photo that shows me your eyes.’

‘ask without a period then’

He laughed and re-sent the text sans period. The return photo took his breath away. Crowley had rolled to his side and propped his cheek in one hand. His hair was loose, flopping across his brow. From this angle, Aziraphale could see that he was stripped down to the black tank top that he wore as an undershirt. He was smiling, his yellow eyes crinkled up at the corners.

“Oh my,” he said aloud.

‘pretty enough for you?’

Aziraphale could almost hear the smirk through the text. He didn’t care. ‘You’re the most beautiful creature in the universe and you know it.’

That crossed about a dozen too many lines, but he couldn’t help it. He had never seen Crowley so relaxed, so inviting, so soft. Not even the softness of sleep in that silky robe earlier this week compared. Aziraphale had never wanted to wrap his whole body around the demon more.

The flashing dots of an incoming reply popped up and disappeared. He waited, letting Crowley think, letting him consider how to respond to a statement so deeply out of line. There was a thrill to this, knowing that he’d left him speechless, letting him determine which direction the two of them should go next.

Eventually, the reply came. It was far more carefully written than previous texts. ‘Don’t be an idiot. What are you doing tmr evening?’

Could be better, could be worse. The offer to spend time together was nice. At least the evening would be after he made things clear with Noah. He considered different ways to reply and decided to continue down the mildly cheeky route that seemed to be bringing all sorts of reactions out of Crowley. ‘Whatever you have planned for us.’

‘getting saucy angel’ he wrote, followed immediately by, ‘pick you up st 7?’

The conversation was ending, and Aziraphale did not want it to. Yes, he could go back to his video, could go back to what he was doing before this started. It would be…dissatisfying after his hopes for where this might have gone. His body was aching worse than ever, and his breath was shallower than it needed to be. He remembered something from their lesson at Nina’s shop the day before.

Crowley answered the facetime call after only two rings. He was lying back on the pillows again, hair splayed out above him, free arm tucked under his head and showing off long swaths of creamy skin that ended in a thatch of dark hair. Aziraphale tried not to stare too heavily, tried not to imagine another dark thatch of hair elsewhere on his body…

“What’s up? Is seven okay for tomorrow?”

“Y-yes.” He cleared his throat. “Yes. What should I wear?”

“Grey vest,” Crowley said at once. “With the trousers I chose, not the other pair.”

“For goodness sake, there’s no need to be territorial about trousers.”

“I’m not good, so I’ll be as territorial as I want.” He grinned, and Aziraphale grinned back at him. “You still look flushed, angel.”

Aziraphale swallowed. “I am.” They stared at each other, and even though neither spoke, he saw the moment that Crowley took his meaning. It was up to him now to act if he wanted. Aziraphale had proffered a hand. Though he tried to hide it, Crowley’s breath grew unsteady. He stopped blinking altogether. The angel waited an entire minute, seconds counted out with fingernails tapping on his thigh, before he pulled back. “So to clarify, is this a date tomorrow?” he asked.

Crowley groaned and put his forearm over his eyes. “Yes, fuck’s sake, Aziraphale, it’s a date. Now go away before I change my mind and stand you up.”

“You’re the one who won’t stop texting me,” he said with a laugh.

Crowley didn’t remove his arm from his face as he made a rude gesture at the camera and ended the call. Only a few minutes passed before he sent one last text for the night. ‘glad you like the photo’

Aziraphale gratefully took that as permission to stare at it while he relieved the pressure that had built like fire in his core.

Chapter Text

Noah was already waiting when Aziraphale arrived at the café the next day. He was out of his work uniform, wearing a dark blue button-down with thin white stripes covered by a grey fleece vest that was partially unzipped. If the angel wasn’t already entirely smitten with another person, he might have felt a stir of attraction. Certainly, he could see that the man wouldn’t have trouble finding a partner, based purely on appearance at least. It made Aziraphale feel a little less confident about his belief that Noah was flirting with him.

Then Noah’s dark brown eyes caught his and lit up, and he was sure again. Noah hugged him and kissed his cheek, stubble scraping pleasantly there, and stood back to look him over.

“You wore the one I helped with, how sweet!”

Oh dear. Aziraphale hadn’t chosen the outfit to give him that idea. Crowley had asked him to wear this tonight and there was no point in getting changed twice today. If Noah noticed that he was wearing the black trousers instead of the charcoal, he didn’t indicate it.

“What can I order for you?” he asked, his hand on Aziraphale’s elbow as the two entered the café.

“There’s no need, I can—”

“Let me, please.” Noah’s smile made his heart ache, it was so hopeful. “I asked you out, so let me buy the drinks.”

Arguing would be more trouble than it was worth, so Aziraphale conceded and chose a free table while Noah ordered. After a few minutes, his phone buzzed against his hip, making him jump.

‘still ok for tonight?’

Aziraphale glanced up to make sure Noah wasn’t approaching. He quickly typed, ‘Yea all good’ and hit send without bothering to navigate to the right screen for a period. The phone buzzed again as he slid it into his pocket, but Noah was on his way with their drinks and he decided that Crowley could wait.

“I haven’t been here before,” Noah said as he sat, shifting in his chair deliberately to pull it closer to Aziraphale’s. “Is this your regular?”

Nerves made his stomach tight. “I don’t have a regular, so to speak. Usually, I make tea at home. I only really take coffee when I’m invited out. Not that I mind it. There’s just something about home-brewed tea that’s very comforting.”

“It goes with your vintage sense of style.”

“Vintage. I hadn’t heard it put that way before. I’ve mostly heard old-fashioned or fusty or stuffy. Sometimes worse.”

Noah grinned at him. “My version is better. You have to admit.”

With the words, his hand came down on Aziraphale’s knee. Aziraphale took a deep breath. He couldn’t let this continue. Before he could speak, however, Noah seemed to notice his discomfort and quickly removed his hand.

“I take it that he’s not just an old friend.”

Aziraphale deflated. “It’s complicated. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to say anything over text because you never know if the tone will come across properly, and I hadn’t realized the degree to which this constituted a date. I’m long out of practice, I’m afraid.”

He waited, giving Noah time to reorient. His smile wasn’t quite as bright as before, but Aziraphale could see that he was doing his best to rally. “Want to talk about it?”

“You’re not angry?”

“Can’t be angry, can I?” Noah laughed. “It was only a first date anyway. No big deal.”

“I’d like to be friends. If that’s alright with you. I’ve spent much of my life rather…buttoned up, so to speak.”

“Of course! Buttoned up—is that like being in the closet? Is that why things are complicated with your friend?”

Aziraphale considered the question, sipping at the hazelnut latte that Noah should not have been the one to pay for. In the closet implied something completely different from his situation with Crowley. Gender was a human construct, and sexuality alongside that. His love for Crowley transcended those boundaries and would have been the same regardless of their assigned corporeal forms—had indeed been the same during the times in history where one or both of them had changed presentation per head office for one reason or another. Crowley loved the fluidity of it, never caring if his presentation matched his body, while Aziraphale—as in all things—tended to be the same in every time period, outfit, and presentation. The modern concept of closet had nothing to do with Heaven or Hell.

On the other hand, did it not require a different kind of closet when an angel fell in love with a demon? They were meant to be enemies, not lovers. Their sides would have done anything to keep them apart, had done all they could to separate them. Crowley had always been braver about standing up to them, disregarding Hell’s insistence that he keep away from Aziraphale. Aziraphale, on the other hand, had bowed to Heaven’s pressures for centuries. Longer.

“Sort of?” he finally answered. “It’s not that my family don’t know about me or who I am. But they don’t approve, and I’m afraid that rather cost Crowley and me a lot of time. I spent so long trying to fly under the radar, to keep one foot in both worlds. In the end, I made too many poor choices, and I left him. For them.”

Noah’s hand was back on his knee, this time in a gesture of comfort. “I’m sorry. I take it that you’ve changed your mind, though?”

He nodded. “I went, ah, no-contact with them recently. So to speak. But it was too late.”

“Good for you. Regardless of how things work out with your friend. Crowley? Is that really his name?”

“No stranger than Aziraphale, is it?” He laughed as Noah tilted his head in acknowledgement. “It’s his surname, though. He prefers it to Anthony.”

“Any relation to Aleister?”

Aziraphale grinned. “None whatsoever, but you’re definitely not the first person who’s asked.”

“Could’ve been a great-great-grandson or something. You never know. I’d love to meet a descendent of Crowley.”

Noah, it turned out, knew quite a bit about history and literature. The once-coffee-date extended far longer than originally anticipated, with Aziraphale buying a second round of drinks to make up for the first. It had been such a long time since he’d met another person outside his narrow little world that sparked his mind this way. He was so very glad that Noah didn’t hold it against him that he wasn’t interested in a romantic sense.

As they began to wrap things up—Aziraphale did have a date to prepare for that night, after all—Noah suddenly said, “I don’t know that your cause is lost with your friend. From what I saw the other night, he’s still interested. That’s one of the reasons I was so eager to ask you out quickly. Better my chances to get in fast.” He blushed as he said this last part, a rosy glow darkening his light brown skin.

“It’s not a matter of interest. It’s a matter of trust. Can he trust that I won’t break his heart again? That’s what he has to ask himself, because I’ve broken it so, so many times before.”

Agonizing to admit, but it was true. Noah nodded sympathetically. “I get that. And as much as I would have preferred you to be unattached, I do hope that things work out for the two of you in a way that makes you happy. Genuinely.”

“You’re lovely, Noah. I mean that. Please don’t stop texting. And if you ever need an ear in return…”

Noah hugged him. “Of course I won’t stop texting! I’m invested in this story now. Have to see it to its conclusion. And, you know, same in reverse. If you want to ask anything, go ahead.”

They parted ways, and Aziraphale’s walk had a bounce to it until he turned the corner near the bookshop and found the Bentley parked out front. It was nowhere near their time to meet. He remembered the few buzzes on his hip early during the coffee date and pulled out his phone, ducking into an alley as he read a series of texts from Crowley.

‘what are you up to?’

‘angel?’

‘ists if you put your phone down again’

‘please Aziraphale I need you to respond’

‘fine! Do you want me to admit it? I’m NERVOUS. no im fuckin freaking out and I need you to tell me that its nothing youre not ignoring me you’ve just been in the bath or smth. I know you dont need to be glued to your phone all the time and I cant expect you to answer every time I worry but pls ffs text me when you get this and tell me its all ok’

He hadn’t called, but obviously he’d either called the shop or simply come straight over. Either way, Aziraphale hadn’t been there. He debated whether it would be better to text immediately or walk the last block and pretend he hadn’t seen the messages, then he decided not to lie. ‘Crowley, I’m just seeing these now. I’m almost back to the bookshop. Talk soon.’

Crowley appeared at the bookshop door less than twenty seconds later. Aziraphale waved to him with what he hoped was a comforting smile. It was not returned. Feeling as if he was about to try disarming a bomb without any of the proper instructions to do so, he crossed the road.

Chapter Text

He had almost reached Crowley when the demon swung away from the shop and charged to the Bentley. Aziraphale followed without changing his same sedate pace. He didn’t know if Crowley planned to speed away from the curb before he could get there, but if so, the car refused to cooperate. Climbing into the passenger seat, he found Crowley bent over the steering wheel, face hidden, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

Aziraphale considered touching his back or arm. His reaction to that kind of contact would be too unpredictable right now, so he sat in silence instead until finally Crowley spoke.

“Where were you?”

A demand. Taking care to keep his voice neutral, Aziraphale said, “What would you say if I told you that I had an appointment to meet with a realtor?”

The quivering, taunt muscles of Crowley’s back froze. “I—There wasn’t anything in your date book. I checked.”

“Really, dear.” He couldn’t keep the annoyance from his voice this time. “There’s no call for snooping. Besides, you literally just taught me how to use the calendar on my phone for appointments, did you not?”

“I didn’t expect you to actually switch over.” The words were slow and careful. “Not yet.”

“I might also remind you that I’ve never been fastidious with keeping my appointments written down in any form. You know how my mind works. I don’t need a date book to keep track. That’s all for human appearance.”

Crowley blew out a long breath and his shoulders slumped. He didn’t raise his head from the steering wheel. “I know.”

Now, Aziraphale felt comfortable reaching a hand out to touch him. He chose an elbow rather than his back. “Do you want to tell me what this is really about? Your messages indicated—” He hesitated, trying to figure out how to phrase it. “You seem to be reading a lot into my silences and I can’t imagine that’s a typical reaction to texts. I don’t expect humans would have kept on using this method of communication if they panicked every time they didn’t get an immediate response.”

Crowley let out a long groan that was muffled by the steering wheel. Aziraphale waited. Several minutes passed before the demon leaned back, slumping into his chair so that his chin was practically on his chest. His arm came down between them, and Aziraphale decided to take his hand. Gently. A press of palm to the back of a hand, to let Crowley decide how to proceed. He didn’t move, not to join or withdraw, and that was fine.

“I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what, specifically?”

“This! Us. I don’t know how to deal with…the not knowing.”

Aziraphale didn’t understand. “What do you need from me?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know!” Crowley let out a humorless laugh. He was practically squirming in the seat, looking anywhere other than at Aziraphale or their lightly-touching hands. “I don’t know what to do with this—”

He thumped his free hand angrily against his chest. Aziraphale had enough history with him to read the gesture as “feeling.” “The anxiety?” he asked.

“Mgh,” he said. A partial agreement. “Not just…that…though.”

Aziraphale lowered his eyes. “Is it that you don’t know how to feel about me being back, when you thought I was gone permanently?” The vague sound out of his mouth indicated that he was way off the mark this time. “I’m afraid I don’t know what else you mean, dear.”

“Ngk. I don’t—it’s—don’t know how to be in love with you.”

The last words were so quiet and rushed that Aziraphale needed a few moments to parse through them. Even once he did, he wasn’t sure he understood. They’d been in love with each other for centuries at a minimum. It had never caused this kind of anxiety before. “Openly, you mean?”

Crowley finally looked at him for the first time since they’d gotten into the Bentley. His eyebrows were drawn down in confusion. “No?”

“Then why is it different from before?”

He blinked rapidly behind his sunglasses. His voice was strained when he spoke again. “Aziraphale. I only realized that I was in love with you like a quarter hour before you abandoned me here.”

“Oh.” Now it was the angel’s turn to sit back and reevaluate things. Their centuries dancing around each other, trying to stay safe but together. Crowley’s anxiety and tears that morning when the Metatron came. The sudden, desperate kiss.

Crowley wasn’t looking at him any longer. He’d pulled his hand away and gripped the steering wheel tightly. “That’s not to say, I mean, I was, you know, before then. I just didn’t realize it until those two interfering women decided to bash me over the head with it while you were getting a job offer. And once you know a thing, you can’t unknow it.”

The demon had always been good at compartmentalizing. Aziraphale had no idea what to say.

“It made me question every word out of my mouth before I said it. And then you left. All I could think was that if I hadn’t known, maybe I could have, I don’t know, fixed things. Found a solution that didn’t involve you fucking off to Heaven. But then I was alone with a…a thing…that no longer had an outlet or purpose with you gone, so I went to sleep, and then you were here again, and ever since, I can’t get my brain to work properly with you.”

“I’m in love with you, too.” Aziraphale couldn’t see Crowley’s eyes at their current angle, so he read his body cues. He was frozen again. “I hope that you already knew that, but in case you weren’t sure or simply need me to say it aloud, I want to be completely clear. I’ve loved you forever. I’ve been in love with you for…well, I don’t think I could pinpoint a specific moment. It snuck up on me gradually. I never expected to be able to feel that type of connection, as an angel. It’s uniquely human, but I suppose we’ve spent a very long time living among humans. They were bound to rub off on us eventually.”

“How do you deal with it?” Crowley said eventually. “It feels so chaotic. I worry all the time. It took every ounce of courage in me to ask you to the Ritz the other day. To the fucking Ritz, where we’ve been so many times. And then when you didn’t answer, I thought it was a rejection, because I’d refused to—ngh—let you in when you visited me the first day. Eventually, I figured it out, and I thought okay, it’ll be better now, but today…today…”

“Tell me.”

“You sounded wrong when you responded, and then you didn’t respond again, and I thought, fuck, I thought you were withdrawing on purpose because I—” He hid his face in his hands, and the rest of the sentence was rushed and muffled. “—didn’t say yes to you last night.”

“Oh, Crowley, I would never—”

“And then I started thinking that maybe the reason you sounded wrong had nothing to do with last night, and maybe someone else had your phone, maybe something had happened to you, maybe Upstairs had gotten to you despite your belief that you were free. So it got all twisted up, these threads of worry, until I was driving myself into a state while you were apparently at a fucking appointment with a realtor. I don’t know how to do this, Aziraphale.”

He slumped against the window, cheek pressed against the glass. His arms were loose again, not gripping the wheel, and one hand was held not-so-subtly palm up between them. Aziraphale took it at once, pulling his phone out with the other. He wanted to see what was so wrong about his message. ‘Yea all good’

“That was meant to say yes. I must have misspelled it. But I don’t see—”

“No punctuation at all.”

Aziraphale laughed. He couldn’t help himself. “Weren’t you just insisting that punctuation was rude, dear?”

“Yes, but you never listen to me.”

He put the phone back in his pocket. “I’m listening. And you’re right, I’ll probably keep using proper grammar in my texts when I’m not in a hurry. It’s me, though, Crowley. I will likely never be glued to my phone, as you phrased it. I’ll put it aside and leave it in a room when I’m distracted, or have it in my pocket when something else has my full attention. There are two things you need to know. First, I will never ignore you to punish you. You should know me better than that by now.”

Aziraphale hesitated. The next part was dangerous, but important. Crowley lifted his head from the window. “What’s the second?”

“I can’t do this,” he said, squeezing Crowley’s hand to indicate what he meant, “if I have to walk on eggshells during every conversation. For the last week, I’ve had to evaluate every word, had to consider all the different ways you might react. I haven’t wanted to push you away, nor have I wanted to ask too much at once, and the constant need to check my words and actions is exhausting. When you walked out of the bookshop just now, I didn’t know if you were going to shout at me, run away, or collapse into a panic attack.”

“That’s fair,” Crowley muttered. “I wasn’t sure what I was going to do either.”

Ignoring the interruption, Aziraphale said, “It’s not healthy to live like this, not for either of us, because it sounds like you’ve felt the same. We have known each other since before time began. If being in love—if admitting to and indulging in the state of being in love—causes this kind of trouble, we need to evaluate whether or not it would be better for us to…not.”

“Can’t unknow. Can’t unfeel.”

“Then we figure out a way—a healthy way—to live with it. Together.”

They were both silent for a long time. The hands clasped between them came alive with sensation, thumbs brushed across skin, fingers working themselves between each other. Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s pulse where their wrists met. Could feel it speeding up as time passed. It was not the only indication that the demon was working himself up to something, but it was rather lovely to have another point of confirmation.

“Need to tell you something,” he muttered eventually. “I didn’t say yes last night because, hrmgh, it was too soon. Too quick. I mean, I won’t lie and say I haven’t thought about it, even before I knew that—” He broke off with a cough. “We haven’t been on a proper date yet. Haven’t had a proper kiss. It’s a bit cart-before-the-horse, I suppose.”

“I understand. I rather let myself get carried away last night.”

“No. Actually. It felt nice. To be wanted, I suppose. But I wasn’t ready.” He took a deep breath. “I want to do things properly with you, angel, and the only guide I have for that is them.”

He waved vaguely at the people walking along the street. Aziraphale smiled. “Honestly, if we’re using them as indication, they don’t seem to know what they’re doing either.”

“Ngh.”

“We’ll figure it out. Take things slow. I’d rather you trust me before we get in too deep.”

“I trust you,” Crowley said, but there was no conviction behind the words.

“You have no reason to trust me. I’m not offended by that. I know I haven’t done right by you in the past.” He pulled Crowley’s hand closer, clasping it in both of his. “I want to be honest and straightforward with you. I was out for coffee with a friend this afternoon.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed. “You said—”

“No, I asked you what you would say if I’d been at an appointment. I’m telling you now, I was not. I was with a friend. And in full disclosure, he thought we were going on a date, but I let him know immediately that my affections were otherwise engaged.”

The demon wrestled with himself. Aziraphale waited calmly, hoping that this would not turn into another row. He couldn’t keep fighting. Jealousy was a thing they hadn’t needed to consider in the past, and he didn’t want it to become an issue now.

“This friend—” Crowley’s hand was twitching between his, but Aziraphale held him tightly.

“Noah, from the shop the other night. And no, I’m not that naive. I knew he felt some attraction for me. That’s why I agreed to meet with him. I wanted to draw a very clear boundary, and if that’s a thing that can be done over text, I’m not fluent enough to do so yet. It needed to be done in person.”

Several deep breaths later, Crowley said, “You understand why this might be upsetting for me, don’t you?”

“Yes, and if my goal was to avoid unpleasantness, I wouldn’t have bothered to tell you at all.”

“Would I be crossing a line to ask you to tell me more?” When Aziraphale didn’t answer right away, he said, “Fuck. Never mind. It’s none of my business. This afternoon has been.” He ended with a grunt and looked away, pulling his hand back and tucking his arms around himself protectively. Aziraphale wasn’t even sure he was conscious of the movement.

“There’s not much to tell, dear. He asked me out. We agreed to meet for coffee. This was pretty early yesterday, before we talked. I knew I’d have a chance to make things clear with him long before you and I met up tonight. He wasn’t upset, and in fact, seemed to intuit that it was you without me saying anything. Already, the night in the shop, he’d assumed we were partners. I denied it at the time, because I didn’t want him to use the word with you and push you further away from me. That was all. We had coffee, and we talked about you for a long time. About my feelings, about my wrongdoings. Noah is a good listener and he asked good questions. Then it turned out that he’s a history fanatic, and we got carried away talking about fashion and culture of the last hundred and fifty years. I promise you, there were no boundaries crossed.”

Crowley digested that. Aziraphale leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes while he waited. He was exhausted. Arguments took so much out of him. He was trying to give Crowley a lot of grace—after all, he’d made it clear that he was as inexperienced and new to these emotions as Aziraphale was with his phone. However, he needed to draw one very clear boundary here, too.

“I’m going to see him again.” When Crowley twitched, he continued. “I’m allowed to have friends, dear. Even if they develop a crush on me from time to time. It’s not the first time this has happened, for either of us. As long as Noah respects my situation, I’m happy to keep him as a friend. It’s rather nice to meet another person I can talk to.”

Crowley gave him the ghost of a smile. “It’s funny. I’m a demon. I should be familiar enough with unpleasant emotions like jealousy. Somehow, it never affected me before. Before I realized that we were—that my feelings were more than—” He sighed. “That’s not your lookout. I’ll figure it out. No guarantees that I won’t fuck up from time to time, but if I do, I won’t deny you when you ask me to apologize properly.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him, and Crowley gave him a half-grin. “Incentive to do well, I take it?” The demon nodded. “Alright. That’s fair. Let me add this as well. Hopefully it can help reassure you in the future. You’ve always been the only one for me. That is a truth that I’ve never betrayed. Even when I couldn’t say yes to you, I’ve never said yes to anyone else. Never been tempted to say yes to anyone else.”

This time, when Crowley smiled, it was slow and vulnerable. He let his arms out of their protective hold and said, almost shyly, “Can I have your hands back, please? If you’re not too upset with me?”

Always, Aziraphale wanted to say, but his throat was tight, so he simply reached out to clasp the demon’s warm fingers between his own again.

Chapter Text

They decided to postpone their date after such an emotionally charged afternoon. Crowley wouldn’t tell him what he’d planned, but he said, “It’s not time sensitive. Don’t worry about that.”

Instead, Crowley followed Aziraphale back into the bookshop after they became conscious that they’d been sitting in the Bentley for well over an hour, holding hands mostly in silence, while curious stares from people on the street had gotten more overt over time. Muriel waved cheerfully at them when they entered.

“Are you feeling better Mr. Cr—I mean Crowley?” they said. “You definitely look far more relaxed than earlier!”

“Yes, thank you, Muriel,” Crowley grumbled, a faint blush rising to his cheeks.

If Muriel noticed his embarrassment, they didn’t show it. They turned to Aziraphale and said, “Can I go ice skating with you, sir?”

Startled, Aziraphale said, “Ice skating?”

“Yes! Your bucket list says that you want to go ice skating. That sounds like jolly good fun!”

A little explosion of adrenaline went off inside Aziraphale’s chest at the words bucket list. Before he had a chance to react, Crowley said, “Bucket list?” He looked at Aziraphale. “That’s what you’ve been working on?”

“I—”

“Oh, he has ever so many fun things on it,” Muriel said, and to Aziraphale’s horror, they held up the sheet of paper on which he’d been brainstorming. “Ice skating and karaoke and—oh! Sir! Can I grow a beard with you, too? I think a beard would be so much fun! Especially a big, white fluffy one like Santa.”

Aziraphale finally found his words. “Where did you get that? It was in my bedroom!”

He reached for the sheet, but Crowley was faster, snatching it out of Muriel’s hand and retreating. Aziraphale tried to grab it from him, but he held it just out of reach as he skimmed the list. His jaw dropped slightly and he stilled, giving Aziraphale the opportunity to hop and reclaim his private musings. He clutched the paper to his chest as Crowley looked at him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, angel,” he said, and behind him, Muriel squealed and covered their ears. “That’s a…rather detailed list.”

Thank goodness he hadn’t seen the far-more-detailed version on his phone, Aziraphale thought. Passwords were a wonderful invention. He folded the list several times and slipped it into his pocket, willing his face to cool. This wasn’t exactly how he meant to start his Plan. “Muriel,” he said, not looking at Crowley, “why were you going through my private things?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to make you angry. Mr. Crowley was so worried about you, and he was trying to figure out if you were in danger. He asked me to check if there were any other date books in your room. I didn’t know the bucket list was private.”

Aziraphale glared at Crowley. “I’m not angry at you, Muriel.”

The demon gave him a sheepish grin. “My bad?”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and folded his arms over his chest. He saw the moment Crowley caught his meaning.

“What, here? Now? I said I might mess up in the future! It was…was meant to be…”

His eyes darted to Muriel and back. Aziraphale tapped his foot. If his private thoughts were going to be read by a third party, Crowley could very well dance in front of the same third party. Crowley’s panicked eyes darted around the room a few more times before the fight went out of him and he sighed. He stepped back and began to chant, the words ground out with a hefty amount of venom. When he bowed, Muriel clapped enthusiastically.

“Oh, Crowley sir, that was amazing! You have to teach me the steps! I’m going to add that to my own bucket list.”

He scowled at Aziraphale, who stepped into his personal space with a salacious smile. Leaning in close, he whispered, “Keep practicing. I like when you dance for me. It might make excellent foreplay one day.”

“Ngk!”

Aziraphale didn’t look back as he started up the spiral staircase. “Muriel? I’d be happy to help you work on your own bucket list tonight, since Crowley and I have decided to postpone our outing. I’m just going to put my private things away first. I’d appreciate it in future if you don’t snoop in my bedroom, please. Even if Crowley asks you to.”

He’d been upstairs for less than a minute when he heard the demon charging up the stairs. Crowley swung into the bedroom, and even with his sunglasses still on, Aziraphale could see that his eyes had gone fully yellow.

“You.” He coughed and cleared his throat. “Those things. On your list. You wanted them…with me?”

“Obviously. And I wouldn’t put it in past tense. Want would be more accurate.”

Crowley swallowed. “Last night. The, um, phone sex. Was that—?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “No, dear. I mean, that would have been a tiny bonus, of course, but that wasn’t why I asked. You caught me at a rather inopportune time, and I was bolder than I should have been. I said that already. It didn’t help that you sent me a photo guaranteed to…entice me, so to speak.”

“I wasn’t trying to tempt you.”

“Well, you know me.” He turned away, setting the folded list under a stack of books. “I’ve always been easily tempted.”

When he turned back, he almost jumped in surprise. Somehow, Crowley had crossed the room in complete silence. His glasses were off. They were standing less than a foot apart, and the longing in those yellow eyes was painful.

“Angel,” he said, voice strained. “I want—”

But nothing followed, as if he couldn’t make his tongue and vocal cords work any longer. Aziraphale reached up to cup one cheek. Slowly, he moved forward, closing the distance but allowing Crowley to back away if he wanted to. This time, when their lips touched, they both responded. Crowley put his hands hesitantly around him, touching his back lightly as if unsure he was allowed to do this. Aziraphale pulled him closer, one hand still on his cheek. Their lips moved in sync, getting used to the sensation. It was clear that Crowley had as little experience as Aziraphale with kissing—that is to say, none beyond their first two aborted attempts. It took a few moments to find a rhythm that didn’t accidentally knock teeth into lips.

Aziraphale wanted more, so much more, but he couldn’t rush this. He pulled away and intended to step back, but Crowley’s arms tightened and gathered him into a firmer embrace. They stared into each other’s eyes.

“That looks simpler in the movies,” Crowley said.

“I’m sure it’ll get less awkward with practice.”

“No time like the present, yeah?”

The hope in those words, the question in his eyes—they unraveled Aziraphale. His entire field of vision narrowed in on Crowley’s lips, and then they were kissing again, more deeply, less tentative, and the angel ran his hands through Crowley’s hair, mussing it, without a single complaint from the demon. He was hyperaware of every movement of Crowley’s fingers on his back, of their hips pressed together, of warm breath ghosting over his face. When he could resist no longer, he reached his tongue out to touch those lips, earning a tiny, startled jerk before the action was reciprocated, and then he was inside Crowley’s mouth, tasting Crowley’s tongue, and there was no more logical thought.

This time, Crowley pulled away. “Jesus fuck,” he said, putting his forehead against Aziraphale’s and panting as if they’d been running a marathon. His entire body was trembling. “Why did we wait six thousand years before trying this?”

“This is only the beginning,” Aziraphale said, feeling rather shaky himself. He ran his fingers through the demon’s hair again.

Crowley shivered at the sensation. “Is it okay that I’m going to need some time with this before we move on to new horizons?”

“Of course. I’m in no hurry to rush everything all at once. I rather enjoy savoring the finer things in life.”

With a laugh, Crowley pulled him into a tight hug. “You always have. One of my favorite things about you.”

Aziraphale smiled as he nestled into his neck. “Well. I guess I can cross out the first item on my bucket list.”

Chapter Text

“Aziraphale sir? What is sex?”

The angel nearly choked on the sip of wine he’d just taken. In his peripheral vision, Crowley grinned like a lunatic. “S-sex?”

Muriel nodded. “It was one of the things on your bucket list. Oh! I can talk about your bucket list now, can’t I? Since Mr. Cro—I mean, just Crowley, has read it? I won’t tell anyone else. I know it’s private.”

Aziraphale swallowed down a hysterical giggle. The scrivener-ambassador was watching him earnestly, Crowley still grinning behind them. He sighed. “Sex is a type of physical affection.”

“Like a hug!” Muriel’s eyes lit up and they scribbled on the list in front of them.

“No, not exactly,” Aziraphale hastened to say. “It’s…ah…”

“It involves being naked and interacting with your genitals,” Crowley interjected. “Loosely speaking.”

Now, Muriel’s eyes were wide with panic as they looked at Crowley, at Aziraphale, and back at their list. “No, no, no, no—you’re teasing me, aren’t you? That’s a demon lie?”

They looked imploringly at Aziraphale, who cleared his throat and said, “I’m afraid not, dear.”

“I can’t put that on my list! I don’t want to do anything like that!” They scratched through the words multiple times, as if they could cover them up well enough to not know they had been there. Crowley snapped, erasing the whole line and making the paper pristine again. Muriel turned adoring eyes on him. “Thank you sir! I don’t know why anyone—”

They cut off, realizing what they were about to say, and shooting Aziraphale an apologetic look. He smiled at them. “Everyone has different wants, dear. It’s perfectly fine to desire sex or to not desire it.”

“I suppose,” Muriel said, though they still sounded flabbergasted that anyone could even consider such an act.

“Crowley’s description makes it seem far more clinical—and weird—than it actually is,” Aziraphale said. “Sex can be a way to express affection, or to share intimacy with another person, or in some cases, to procreate.”

“Or it can be for fun,” Crowley added. “Supposed to feel good.”

The look Muriel gave him was convinced that this addition was a demon-lie.

“What other ideas do you have for your list, dear?” Aziraphale asked. He wanted to redirect this conversation as quickly as he could.

As an angel who had been on earth for less than two months, Muriel had a lot of ideas. Some of their earliest thoughts overlapped with what they’d read from Aziraphale’s list, though they were disappointed to learn that their face wouldn’t grow a beard without miraculous intervention. (“Good thing you can buy a Santa beard at any costume shop,” Crowley commented.) Crowley and Aziraphale had even more to suggest, and the more wine they drank, the more their contributions dug back into old memories.

“The Sistine Chapel is beautiful.”

“Yeah, if you can walk comfortably on consecrated ground,” Crowley muttered. “Besides, there are better things to do in Italy. Gondola rides. Thermal baths. Mount Vesuvius. A million ancient ruins and palaces and museums around, too.”

“Ooh, you can attend a magic show. I’d be happy to escort you.”

“Learn to fire a gun properly. Not at someone, Muriel! I wouldn’t suggest that!”

“You should definitely ride a horse,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley groaned.

“Angel, they should not ride a horse. Cars were invented so that we didn’t have to get on those infernal beasts any longer.” He pointed to Muriel. “If you get on a horse, be prepared to have a sore arse the next day. Besides, horses can’t go as fast as cars. Cars are the way to go.”

“Drive the Bentley,” Muriel said as they wrote the words down. They frowned as Crowley snapped to erase the line. A second attempt was whisked away before the first word was fully written down. Muriel scowled at him.

“You’re not driving my car. Period.”

“You let Aziraphale drive your car, remember? The first day I came to earth?”

“I have a license,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley shot a sneer at him. “Your license is out of date and has no bearing on this conversation. You drove my car like a damn—” He cut off with a growl.

Aziraphale stuck his nose in the air. “The Bentley enjoys my company, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it.”

“Oh, I admit it. She likes you plenty fine in the passenger seat.”

While they argued, Muriel wrote: Get a license. Drive the Bentley. Pet a cat. Pet a dog. Pet a squirrel. Crowley looked over and snapped again. Drive the Bentley disappeared. “Crowley! Stop! I put that I would get a license first!”

“And I told you, the license is immaterial. You’re not driving my car. You should probably cross out the squirrel one, too. Squirrels aren’t the kind of animals you pet. Not unless you want your fingers bitten off or your eyes scratched out.”

Muriel squeaked and crossed out the squirrel entry, with only a mild pout of, “They look so cute, though.”

Crowley leaned over and pulled the list to him. In the empty space that used to say Drive the Bentley, he wrote: Get a phone and learn to use it. “You shouldn’t wait decades before trying to catch up with technology,” he said, smirking at Aziraphale over Muriel’s shoulder.

Muriel didn’t notice the smirk. “That’s an excellent idea. A phone will make me seem more human, too. I’ve noticed that most humans have phones. I’m surprised you didn’t have one already, Aziraphale sir. You were supposed to blend in. Did you not realize?”

They sounded so sympathetic, as if he’d failed in his duties here by not already having a phone. Crowley was laughing silently behind them. Aziraphale sighed. “The role I was playing, Muriel, was of an old-fashioned human who refused to use new technology. It suited me.”

Crowley snorted. “I’m not sure that was a role, angel.”

“You are not helping.”

“Oh! I think he’s helping enormously!” Muriel said, and the demon cackled. “Except for the part about the Bentley.”

“If he wanted to be really helpful,” Aziraphale said, waggling his empty wineglass, “he could top off our drinks.”

“I’ll never say no to more wine, lov—angel.” Crowley coughed, and Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him.

When he rounded the table to pour into his glass, Aziraphale stroked his elbow, caught his eye, and mouthed, Sit down. Crowley sat obediently, and their knees touched. “Muriel? Could you pass Crowley’s wine this direction?”

Muriel obeyed, holding the glass as if it might bite them as they did so. Crowley drank the rest of its contents in two gulps, after which Aziraphale poured more for him.

“You know,” he said, “humans consume food and drink, too. That would make you look human far quicker than getting a phone.”

“I know,” Muriel said with a sad sigh. They wrote Eating and Drinking on the list. “Do I have to drink wine?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Crowley said firmly. “Your list is about what you want to do. Within reason. No, you’re not—”

“Driving the Bentley,” Muriel said, voice tart. “Yes, you’ve said. A lot.”

“You’ll let me drive it again, won’t you?” Aziraphale purred. He put his head on Crowley’s shoulder and looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“Hgmm.”

Well, that was better than Aziraphale expected from him. He snuggled a little closer, taking the opportunity to put a quick kiss on the spot just below his ear. “Muriel, you should attend a Bonfire Night celebration.”

“Ooh! You can make a Guy to burn. Angel, remember that year I—”

“—stuffed a Guy full of fireworks and I had to miracle a protective shield into place? Yes, I remember that very clearly, Crowley. I had to justify the miracle later.”

“I only meant to give the kids a little fun! I didn’t realize there would be a wooden pallet close enough to start sending out projectiles!” Crowley pulled one leg up and hugged it. “I made it rain to put all the fires out. Hell didn’t believe my excuses and I was warned off weather completely. The paperwork was a nightmare.”

“Would’ve been worse if there were kid-casualties. Kids go straight Up.”

“True,” Crowley said with a grunt. “What about painting your fingernails, Muriel?”

They looked up at the sound of their name. It was clear they’d tuned out the bickering. Crowley wiggled his fingers at them. They were painted a bright red, chipped at the edges. Muriel’s face lit up. “Good idea!”

“I have a pedicure on my list,” Aziraphale said softly.

“Really? I didn’t see that one.”

“The list you saw was incomplete. Preliminary brainstorming.”

Crowley sat up straighter, forcing the angel’s head off his shoulder. “I want to see the final list.” When Aziraphale smiled and shook his head, he whined, “Aaangel, come onnnn! Do you want me going through your room trying to find it? I might put things back in the wrong order.”

“You won’t find anything there.” Aziraphale took a sip of wine, watching him in his peripheral vision.

“Oh. You were asking me how to make lists on your phone.”

“Don’t even try to peek. Passwords. Marvelous things.”

Crowley scowled. “I was under the impression that you wanted me to participate.”

Under the table, Aziraphale squeezed his thigh. “Absolutely, dear. But do allow me to reveal my secrets in my own time, yes?”

He may have complained further, but every muscle in his body had gone still the second Aziraphale touched him. They stared at each other, desire stirring between them again, broken very suddenly by an inquisitive voice.

“Aziraphale sir? Is it Crowley that you want to have sex with?”

Chapter Text

Shortly after Aziraphale explained why intimacy was a private matter, Muriel decided to retire for the evening. As soon as their door clicked shut behind them, Crowley practically jumped on top of him. Their lips smashed together carelessly, and his hands skittered around the angel’s body. In his hair, down his back, sweeping over his bottom, grabbing at his hips. It was a storm of desire, clumsy and frantic and unpracticed. Aziraphale tried to ground him, taking control of the kiss and bringing it to a more manageable rhythm. When he broke from Crowley’s mouth to savor his way from lips to neck, the demon leaned his head back and moaned.

“Lemme see your list,” he said, the words rough and breathy as Aziraphale sucked and kissed his way down his jaw.

“Hmmm.”

“Can’t stop thinking about it. It has details, doesn’t it? All the things you want to do with me?”

“And to you,” he said. He bit Crowley’s earlobe and was rewarded with a tiny yelp.

“Fuck, you have to let me see it. I want to know everything. All your secret desires.”

Aziraphale hummed against his neck. “In time, my dear.”

“Confess. Your bucket list was a ploy to get into my pants, wasn’t it? The rest of it isn’t even real. That’s why you won’t show it to me.”

He wasn’t far from the truth, but there was no way the angel was going to admit that. “Don’t be silly. You’re the one who told me I needed to ‘catch up’ with modern times, I think you said? There are a lot of new things from the last hundred years that I’ve never tried. Flying in an airplane, attending a showing of Rocky Horror…”

Crowley gave a startled laugh. “What? You never would. Seriously?”

“I will look very dashing in fishnets and feathers.”

“That image is going to haunt my dreams.” He buried his face in Aziraphale’s curls. “In a good way.”

“Always happy to be in your dreams,” he purred, running his hands over Crowley’s chest. His thumbs dipped under his waistcoat and lingered on his nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt. The demon let out a quiet mewling whine at the sensation, and Aziraphale’s whole body thrummed with satisfaction.

“More,” Crowley begged, and without stopping to think, the angel yanked the layers out from his trousers and ran his hands over the hot skin underneath. It felt so good, the warmth, the soft hair across his torso, the nipples going hard and tight under his ministrations. He couldn’t wait for the day when he could replace his fingers with his lips and tongue. Crowley panted and writhed in his chair, twisting under his hands until Aziraphale released him and moved his grip down to his hips instead.

Then it was his turn to be surprised as Crowley suddenly picked him up and deposited him into his lap. He was straddling the demon, pressed together pelvis and belly and chest, and the warmth of it was so enticing that Aziraphale nearly lost his head completely. His hips rocked into Crowley’s, pulling a whimper from them both before their lips met again in concert. As their kisses grew in intensity, he tried to remember: They were meant to wait, meant to savor, meant to—but soon, Crowley was thrusting mindlessly against him, and his body responded in kind, and he couldn’t stop now, not by his own willpower, not unless—

“Crowley,” he managed, the word dragged from him. “You wanted…”

“Fuck what I wanted,” Crowley growled. “I need…I need…Fuck, Aziraphale, I think I’m going to come just like this.”

Aziraphale reached a hand between them and touched the button of his jeans. “May I?”

“Yesfuckpleaseangelyes.”

They were easier to unbutton than Aziraphale expected, given how tightly they fit. Within seconds, his fingers had found their target. Crowley moaned as he wrapped them around his cock and stroked. For a few moments, their hips slowed as they found a rhythm that worked for them both. Then Crowley was whimpering, and his hands dug frantically into Aziraphale’s trousers, not bothering to unbutton them.

“Come with me. Please.”

Aziraphale was not nearly as far along as the demon, who was clearly not going to last much longer despite how short a time they had been going. His mind zipped over the details on his list for inspiration. Something that would tip him over but wouldn’t require much in the way of setup. For half a second, he debated whether or not Heaven would object if he used miracles in this kind of situation. Then he decided that he didn’t care. He used his free hand to miraculously undo the button and zipper on his trousers that Crowley had ignored, giving much more access to the skin underneath.

“Touch me from behind,” he begged. “Put your finger inside me.”

“What?” Crowley pulled away slightly and blinked at him, his mind catching up with the words. “I…uh, I don’t know how…I’ve never—”

“You’ll figure it out,” Aziraphale practically growled. He took one of the demon’s hands and placed it on his lower back. “I want to come with you.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. Long fingers slipped down the crease of his arse until they found his hole. At the merest touch, Aziraphale let out a high-pitched whine, trying not to shout too loudly and alert Muriel to the situation. A disconnected part of him thought that perhaps they ought to have retired to his bedroom before doing this, but then his brain whited out as Crowley pressed.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he found himself chanting, a word that had never come easily to his lips but was pulled from them now on repeat as his body rocketed toward climax.

“Angel, yes, yes, I’m going to, yes—”

Crowley’s cock throbbed in his hand and suddenly he was coming. The first spurt of warm seed hit Aziraphale’s own cock, and between that and the finger still pressed up against that knot of nerves at his opening, he spasmed as well, groaning into the demon’s mouth as he rode out the orgasm. Nothing had ever felt so incredible, his hand slippery now, his entire body twitching, Crowley going limp in his arms.

“Fuck,” Crowley said after a few minutes of panting. His cheek lay on Aziraphale’s shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around the angel’s lower back, preventing him from slipping off his lap. “Don’t tell me that this is only the beginning. I’ll discorporate if you do. Lie to me.”

“You’re right. This is absolutely the end. Last time we do this. Nothing more after tonight.”

“You monster.”

Aziraphale hesitated. He didn’t know if he could risk the words, but his heart was so full. It didn’t matter that they were sharing one chair that groaned under their combined weight, that their clothes were smeared with come, that they were in full view of any angel who might waltz into the embassy at any time. This was so perfect, so real, so them. “I love you, Crowley.”

There was a tiny pause as Crowley’s breath stopped and his muscles froze. Then he relaxed again. “Aziraphale? You won’t leave me again, will you? Not ever?”

“Not ever,” he confirmed, pulling him tighter. “If I do, it’ll be by force, so I expect you to come rescue me from whoever had the audacity to kidnap an angel.”

In contrast with Aziraphale’s tight hold, Crowley went completely limp at his words, the loosest the angel had ever seen him. It wasn’t feigned, carefully poised for show, and it was a deeper laxity than relief. After a moment, he understood. Crowley finally felt safe. Safe with him. His heart soared, and he didn’t need any verbal response to his proclamation of love.

Still, he smiled when the demon mumbled into his shoulder, “Love you, too, angel.”

Chapter Text

Despite what most angels (and a certain demon) seemed to think of Aziraphale, he enjoyed sleep. Sure, he was an early riser and could often be found puttering in his kitchen at the crack of dawn, but he did sleep most nights. It was a delicious feeling, to climb into his neatly made bed and stretch out on clean, cool sheets. He had quilts to keep him cozy on cold nights, and fuzzy slippers, and an array of soft pajamas in silly patterns that amused him.

Tonight, however, he could not sleep. So much had happened throughout the day—his date with Noah, the fight with Crowley, Muriel’s reveal of his bucket list, the kiss in his bedroom, and oh, oh, oh the incident in the bookshop. Aziraphale’s body was still thrumming with sensations. The taste of Crowley, the scent of him on his hand, the warmth of his body first pressed so tightly against his, then draped over him without any tension left in him at all. It was so much, almost too much. No matter which direction he turned on his pillows, he couldn’t stop feeling skin and heat and need.

By the so-called witching hour, he gave up.

An impulse drove him to look at his phone, not for the first time that night. Each time, he hoped to find a text from Crowley. Some indication that the demon was also restless and awake and perhaps in want of company. So far, he’d been disappointed.

Crowley had left the shop not long after they miracled themselves clean. They’d kissed like new lovers by the front door, by the Bentley, through the window of the Bentley. Neither of them wanted to end the night, but both knew they needed a break before they went any further. It was ridiculous and giddy, and Aziraphale felt more tied to humanity than perhaps he’d ever felt before. He loved everyone and everything, a universal love that felt completely different from that spoken of in Heaven.

Once Crowley had arrived at his flat, the two had spent another hour texting. They skirted any charged topics, and eventually, they’d agreed that they really ought to sign off for the night. It took half an hour to actually do so, but now Aziraphale’s phone was silent and dark, and he was both restless and lonely.

Sitting back against his headboard, he worked by the light of his bedside lamp on the Plan that had been disrupted this afternoon. He wasn’t lying when he said he intended to go through with the other items on his list, even if he didn’t need them to coax Crowley into his bed any longer. This entire week had been an exercise in novelty. New clothes, new technology, new people, new relationships, new physical sensations. He’d been apprehensive and unsure, and he was still a novice at all of this, but his mind was fully made up now. He was going to become an active participant in this world.

‘When you’re awake, please choose five numbers at random between 1 and 34,’ he texted to Crowley.

Aziraphale set the phone aside and slid back into a prone position with the intention to try again to sleep. His screen lit up.

‘oh thank fuck youre awake’

‘Crowley!’

‘yes its me who else is it going to be?’

Aziraphale smiled and propped himself up on one elbow. ‘I couldn’t sleep.’

‘tell me about it’

He was halfway through an explanation when he realized that the statement was rhetorical. Deleting his message, he wrote, ‘What numbers are you choosing?’

‘this for the List?’

Aziraphale grinned at the intentional capital letter. ‘Yes. I’ve randomized the items and will let you choose five for me to start with. This way they can be surprises as we go along!’

‘rather see the whole thing’

He didn’t think he could pull off the sort of intentional glower that Crowley had sent him via photo the day before, especially not in pajamas that were covered in stylized rainbows. While he hesitated over how to respond, trying to work himself up to taking a photo anyway, another text came through.

‘fine. 9, 34, 19, 20, 17’

‘Perfect! Let me make sure those will work.’

He scrolled to his list and read through Crowley’s choices. Despite nearly a third of the entries making up various sexual acts he wanted to try, the most risqué of those random numbers was go on a date. Aziraphale smiled. It was almost like the universe had taken their relationship in hand and told them to slow down. The other four entries read attend a pride parade, get a pedicure, take a gardening class, and eat blindfolded.

‘One of these will be difficult until the summer season,’ he wrote. ‘I think the others will be interesting.’

‘wait your going to tell me what they are arent you’

‘The pedicure is one of them. Want to get one with me?’

‘angel’

‘You can help advise me on a good gardening class to take.’

The phone buzzed in his hand with an incoming facetime call. Aziraphale squeaked and pulled his quilt up, tucking it around his neck to hide his pajamas before he answered. His brain short-circuited at the sight of Crowley’s bare neck and shoulders, chest hidden by dark blankets. His red hair was tangled and sticking out at odd angles, as if he, too, had spent the night tossing and turning.

“Are you naked under there?” Crowley asked, squinting at the camera. “Is that why you’re hiding?”

“Of course I’m not! I’m perfectly dressed for—” Aziraphale paused. “Wait. Are you naked?”

“Could be, if you wanted me to be,” he said with a grin. “Why? Is phone sex one of the items I chose? Are you propositioning me again?”

“There are actually no sex-related items among your choices.”

“Shame, that.”

Aziraphale huffed. “You were the one talking about carts-before-horses and doing things properly today.”

“Yeah, and that all went straight out the window, didn’t it?” Crowley stretched in a way that sent the blood straight to Aziraphale’s groin. “Guess that’s what happens when you open the floodgates after centuries of repression.”

“Why are you calling?” he asked, trying to get his body back under control.

“I was annoyed with your teasing.”

“Well, I’m afraid you’re going to be rather disappointed. There’s nothing salacious in your choices. There’s a parade, which again, likely won’t work until the summer season. A gardening class, the pedicure, a date with you—I assume you still want to go on a proper date?—and one other that I’m afraid you’re going to approach in a sexual manner even though that’s not how I meant it.”

Crowley grinned and cradled his head with one arm, showing off more of his skin. “I am a demon. What is it that I’m not meant to misinterpret? You have to tell me now.”

Taking a deep breath to keep his voice steady, Aziraphale said, “I want to eat blindfolded.”

“Oh.” Crowley’s face went slack, his eyes fully yellow as he stared into the camera. “Angel, I don’t know how else I’m meant to take that. You want me to blindfold you. And then feed you. While you’re blindfolded.”

“I said absolutely nothing about you blindfolding or feeding me. The item in question is to eat blindfolded. I’m told that without use of my eyes, the eating experience will be different. More sensual. Stop laughing! I’m serious. Your other senses are supposed to come into greater life, the tastes and smells, the feel of the food in your mou—Crowley, stop!”

“I’m sorry, love, I can’t help it. That is one hundred percent a sex-related item. And you’d better let me be involved. I am absolutely going to blindfold you and feed you bite by bite.”

Aziraphale hunkered down further under his quilt. “Yes. Well. If that’s how you’re going to approach it, I suppose we’ll have to wait until I find a new place to live. We ought to refrain from further sex in the middle of my bookshop where Muriel or any nosy angel from Heaven might walk in on us.”

“Mmm, the only thing I heard from that was further sex.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“No, I’m aroused. Libidinous. Lascivious. Wanton. Lustful. Need I elaborate further?” He moved his free hand under the blanket, reaching down the middle of his body, to show exactly what kind of further elaboration he might provide.

Aziraphale clutched his quilt closer to his neck. “I can’t, Crowley!”

The demon cocked his head. “What have you got on under there?”

“Nothing! No—that’s not what I mean! I mean, it’s only my pajamas, nothing important, but they’re private.”

“I literally had both of my hands in your pants today. How private can pajamas be? Unless you got them custom made with my face on them or something, in which case, you’re right, I don’t need to know, you creep.”

At that, Aziraphale laughed and loosened his hold on the quilt. What was the worst that could happen? Crowley might tease him a little, and then they’d move on. He didn’t really want to hide even the little things. His month in Heaven, deliberately inviting judgement on his character, had brought home how welcome it was to have someone who accepted him, even if he did tease from time to time. Sometimes, he believed that Crowley actually liked all his silly parts.

Emboldened by the thought and by the patience with which Crowley was now watching him, Aziraphale slid the quilt down to his waist. After a moment, the demon grinned.

“Only you could make rainbow-printed flannel look sexy, angel.”

“You’re just saying that because you want me to phone-fuck you.”

Crowley’s eyes fluttered closed. “Say that again. Tell me you want to fuck me.”

“Don’t you want to hear about my other pairs, though? I have one set with little duckies on it, and another with—”

“Aziraphale I swear to someone—”

“Do you always sleep naked?”

Crowley whined. “M’not naked. Not yet. I’d better be soon, though.”

“So needy!” Aziraphale held his breath, trying to get his own desire under control. It was difficult when he could see, even with the blanket covering him, that Crowley was lightly stroking himself. He had resisted the same impulse all night, knowing that it wouldn’t satisfy, knowing that he would only want more afterwards. Clearing his throat, he said, “We said it would be good to take a break for the night.”

“Angel, we need to stop listening to our attempts to be rational because we’re clearly not going to follow through. We both would’ve been happier if I’d stayed the night.”

Aziraphale couldn’t argue with that. Another beat, and he gave in. “Well, you’re right. I do want to fuck you so badly right now. I’ve thought of nothing else all night.”

The exclamation out of Crowley’s mouth was a jumble of consonants and breath. His arm began to move faster.

“Wait,” Aziraphale commanded, his voice deep. He was immensely satisfied when the demon froze, eyes opening wide. He brought the phone close to his face and kept his voice low. “Not like this.”

“I…” Crowley swallowed. “Tell me what you want.”

“How quickly can that car of yours get you back to my bookshop?”

Chapter Text

After a period of time so short it practically broke the laws of physics, the Bentley pulled up to the curb next to the bookshop. Aziraphale was shivering with anticipation as he listened for Crowley’s footsteps. He’d given specific instructions for this rendezvous. Keep the bell from going off so Muriel wasn’t alerted, knock quietly on the bedroom door but enter without waiting for a response, and then stop with his back to the door, letting Aziraphale make the next move. Crowley followed every instruction perfectly.

The bedroom was dark and completely silent until the angel whispered, “Did you wear it?”

So silent he could hear the demon swallow. “I did.”

Aziraphale smiled to himself and used a miracle to allow a little light to escape from his bedside lamp. Just enough for him to see that Crowley indeed wore that silky black robe he’d first seen a week ago. “Very nice,” he said.

He himself was still fully dressed in his pajamas, completely buttoned up and modest. They did nothing to hide his erection, however, and he watched as the demon’s eyes flicked to it, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Tell me what you want,” Crowley said, echoing what he’d said on the phone.

“You have no idea how often this robe has taunted me in my dreams this past week.” Aziraphale took slow steps forward, and Crowley watched him with the unblinking eyes of a snake. “The things I wanted to do to you when you answered your door wearing it…”

“Tell me.”

He ignored that and continued his slow walk, letting his eyes rake up and down the demon’s body. “I didn’t dare, though. Even when I did kiss you, I didn’t dare.”

They were mere inches apart now, close enough that Crowley’s breath brushed Aziraphale’s face with every heady exhale. He still didn’t move, obeying the instruction to let the angel act first. “Please,” he whispered.

The edges of Aziraphale’s lips curled up at the sound of him begging. “Why don’t I show you instead?”

His hands shot out, pushing Crowley’s shoulders back into the door and twisting the collar of his robes into his fists. One thigh pressed up between the demon’s legs as he finally let their lips collide. Crowley whimpered, his groin rutting against Aziraphale’s leg instantly as his hands hesitated over the buttons of his pajamas and finally came down instead around his arse, pulling him closer.

“Pace yourself,” Aziraphale whispered into his mouth. “You don’t want to be disappointed, do you?”

His hips slowed. “Fuck. No. I don’t.”

Another little thrill went through the angel’s core. He nibbled on an earlobe and said, “Do you like it when I’m bossy?”

“S’not that,” Crowley said. “It’s your voice. Gets all deep. I like it when you talk. Narrate to me. Your voice is…ngh.”

That was unexpected, but Aziraphale was happy to oblige. Keeping his voice pitched low, he said, “Well, that day, I wanted to push you up against the door like this, to kiss you until we were both breathless. Then I would have taken your robes and slid them down your shoulders so that it could drop away completely.”

He did so, and Crowley shivered at the sensation of silk sliding against his skin. He let go of Aziraphale momentarily so that the robe could fall off of him.

“There was this wedge of skin showing—” Aziraphale trailed one hand up from navel to collarbone. “—and I wanted to trace it with my fingers.”

“Yes.”

“Wanted to lick your clavicle—”

“Yes!”

“—and play with your nipples.” Aziraphale lifted two fingers to Crowley’s lips. “Wet them.”

He expected to be licked, but Crowley took the fingers fully into his mouth and sucked on them as Aziraphale trailed messy kisses along his collarbone. Moaning, he almost couldn’t convince himself to remove the fingers and bring them to the demon’s chest. Once he did so, though, he was rewarded with the most exquisite of whimpers. Crowley was shaking now as Aziraphale fell to his knees.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about this line of hair here.” He brushed the fingers of his free hand through the trail of dark red curls that began at his navel and grew thicker as it approached his pajama bottoms. “I only got a small glimpse of it, but oh, my tongue itched to taste it.”

“Aziraphale, I’m going to collapse in a heap on your floor pretty soon.”

The angel gestured, and a chair appeared underneath him. Crowley gratefully dropped into it, and Aziraphale took the opportunity to strip him of his pajama bottoms and boxers. They were both wet with precum, and he held them to his nose and breathed in deeply before setting them aside and pushing Crowley’s legs apart as wide as they would allow. “Such a delicious feast before me,” he said. “Where should I begin?”

Crowley didn’t seem to know where to put his hands, grabbing randomly at Aziraphale’s hair, at his shoulders, at his own thighs. The angel guided them to hold onto the chair instead.

“This skin here is mouthwatering, Crowley,” he murmured, nibbling at his inner thigh.

“Too soft. Tickles. Bite harder, angel.”

Aziraphale obeyed, sinking his teeth in just hard enough to earn a gasp, then rubbing his tongue over the mark. “Like that?”

“Yes,” Crowley panted. “Just—just like that. More.”

He bit again, sucking a little and savoring the groan that pulled from the demon. As he worked his way up one thigh, he let his hand massage up and down the other. He stopped when he reached the crease of his leg, pulling away and earning another little whimper.

“Oh my.” He surveyed the landscape in front of him. There were so many possibilities. Crowley’s cock twitched, pulling away from his lower belly momentarily but leaving a string of precum connecting him to a whorl of sticky hair. It caught the dim light, and the angel’s abdomen fluttered. He had mostly ignored his own desire up until this point, but he was overcome with the need to taste.

“Fuck!” Crowley yelped as Aziraphale ran his tongue up into that thicket of hair. His cock was leaking onto the angel’s cheek now, the smell intoxicating, and Aziraphale was going to swallow him deep, never mind that he hadn’t planned to do this so soon, that— “Angel, stop, stop!”

Aziraphale froze and looked up. “What did I do?”

“N-nothing. Oh fuck. It’s…if you so much as touch me with that pretty pink mouth of yours right now I will come before either of us are ready for it. Just. I need a minute. To pull back. Let me…let me gather myself, okay?”

“Would you like me to redirect my attentions?”

Crowley let out a soft laugh. “No. No, this is exactly what I want, love. Even looking at you down there, all eager and enthusiastic. It’s downright carnal and just I want to be able to enjoy your sweet mouth on me for more than two seconds.”

“Easy to be enthusiastic,” he murmured, laying his cheek on the demon’s knee. “You always wearing those tight trousers that give the imagination so much to work with. This was the first, ah, detail I included in my list, you know.”

“What, oral sex? Dunno, angel, seems a pretty basic tenant of sex, especially for two men-type folks. Not sure it even qualifies as a detail.”

“My list does not say oral sex,” he said with a pout. “I’m far more creative with words than that.”

Crowley grinned. “Do tell.”

At that, Aziraphale straightened up on his knees again, moved his head closer to his target, and looked up into those bright yellow eyes. “It says that, if you’ll allow, I want to suck you off and swallow every drop you put in me.”

One of Crowley’s hands scrabbled at his thigh, pressing nails down into the flesh, while the other one flew to his mouth. He bit down on his fingers, breathing hard, trying to ground himself against a new surge of lust. His cock was twitching worse than ever, and Aziraphale could practically count down the seconds until he gave in. Ripping his hand from his mouth, he said, “Fine. Fine, I’ll last as long as I’m able. S’not like we’ll never do it again, right?”

Aziraphale didn’t bother to answer, so eager was he to taste. He took hold of the bottom of the shaft with one hand to get a good angle, then swirled his tongue experimentally through the precum that had gathered at the top. The taste of it overwhelmed him, and he squeezed upwards a few times to get more of it, coating Crowley’s head in a mixture of precum and saliva. The demon was whining above him, begging him to use his fucking mouth please, so he obeyed, taking in an experimental few inches to get used to the feel of it.

The angel was nothing if not thorough in preparation. He’d read about technique and pitfalls, had watched videos, had even looked at some very odd diagrams that may or may not have been useful. He knew to be careful with his teeth, had learned about tricks he could try with his tongue. None of that mattered in this moment. Somehow, in all his fantasies and preparation, he’d left out one critical detail that overwhelmed him now—the warmth of that skin pressed against his lips and in his mouth. All the other senses, he’d filled in. The scent of hair and skin, the feel of fullness, even the taste of salt. But the warmth. It threatened to overwhelm him with joy.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, voice strained. “I know I said it would be hard for me to last too long, but fuck, can you do more than hold me like that? It feels nice, not saying it doesn’t, but I’d like it even more if—”

He cut off with a cry as Aziraphale’s senses snapped back into focus and he pushed deeper downwards. When Crowley’s cock threatened to gag him, he pulled up again, sliding his tongue along with him. He bobbed his head, finding a rhythm, matching thrusts with his hand to deepen the sensation as he listened to the symphony of moans and whimpers and swearing above him.

Whether it was because he was so new to the act (and likely not terribly good at it yet) or because Crowley had more fortitude than he expected, it was several minutes before the demon’s hands were suddenly clutching at Aziraphale’s hair in frantic warning before he came. Most of it spilled right back out of his mouth. Swallowing turned out to be more difficult than he expected, given the impediment of a cock against his tongue.

“Off, love, off,” Crowley said, pulling him upwards when he tried to keep going. “Sensitive.”

Aziraphale sat back on his heels, disappointed, as the demon snapped his fingers to clean everything up. “That was no good at all. I’m sorry, Crowley.”

The demon’s eyes went wide. “Angel. That felt incredible. One of the best orgasms of my life. Don’t you dare apologize.”

“One of?” He raised an eyebrow, then shook his head. “I’ll get better at it.”

“The other best was in your hand a few hours ago,” Crowley growled. “Now stop that! If you’d been any better at it, I would have discorporated on the spot.”

“Well, I’m not crossing it off my list yet. Not until I do it properly.”

“I volunteer for any and all practice sessions.”

Aziraphale laughed and lay his head on Crowley’s thigh again. “Will you stay tonight? I know it’s almost dawn already. But I’d like you to stay anyway.”

“You don’t think we’re done yet, do you?” He gestured down at himself. “Look. You got to take off all my clothes and I haven’t seen even a glimpse of you naked.”

He still felt tender and self-conscious about his inexperience. “I think maybe we should—” 

“Up you get.” Crowley stood and offered his hands to Aziraphale. “You don’t have to get naked if you don’t want to, but I’m going to snuggle under the blankets with you. Yes, I’m staying. And I sleep naked.”

“You were naked under those covers! I knew it.”

Crowley grinned. “Wasn’t going to admit it when you were wearing a quilt like a blushing bride from three hundred years ago, afraid of losing her virtue by my mere gaze.”

“You do recall that I literally have an entire sexual wish list? I don’t believe I was in the slightest worried about my virtue.”

“Ah-ha! So you admit it, your bucket list is nothing but a disguise for your sexual fantasies!”

“That—no—that’s not what I said, Crowley!”

He laughed. “Come on, angel.” He wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, who responded in kind. “I’m getting cold. Let’s go warm up under that quilt.”

So they climbed under the blanket together, where they kissed and kissed in the dark room, and if Aziraphale eventually grew too warm and Crowley had to help him shed his pajamas to cool off, that was acceptable. If their hands wandered and explored each other, it was gentler now in the breaking of a new day, at least until the demon’s fingers found the right spot again, pressing up for entry. And if Aziraphale happened to have lubricant waiting in his bedside table drawer, well, he was always thoroughly prepared, and miracles were plenty effective for cleaning up the mess from his orgasm when Crowley’s finger slipped all the way inside.

If Muriel found it strange that the Bentley was parked at the curb, or that Aziraphale wasn’t in the kitchen making tea as he usually did in the morning, neither angel nor demon knew. They were both fast asleep, wrapped naked and vulnerable around each other, comfortable under an old quilt and bathed in the weak London sun that filtered into the bedroom.

Chapter Text

It was early afternoon when Aziraphale woke up in the warm nest that he shared with Crowley. He was deliriously happy by how much everything had changed since that first day back on earth. To think—this was the day he had been planning to reach out to Crowley for the second time, after a week of respectful distance. He only hoped that this crash course into sleeping with each other didn’t cause problems in the future. They certainly hadn’t taken things slowly, or done them properly, or waited until they figured out how to manage their new relationship. Haphazard and reckless, as they tended to be together. At least it was in keeping with their history.

Crowley was still deeply asleep, so Aziraphale moved gingerly to reach his phone on the bedside table. He saw that Noah had texted.

‘Hey—wanted to reiterate, no hard feelings. Hope you still want to be friends like you said. Not a lot of ppl know so much about 19th c fashion!’

Aziraphale smiled. ‘Definitely. About the friend part, I mean. Though I suppose the fashion part is true too.’

Noah responded right away with a few laughing emojis. ‘Did the rest of your day go well?’

Oh did it ever. He wasn’t sure if it would be kind to discuss it with someone he’d just rejected, though. Not right away. So he typed, ‘Yes, and yours?’

‘Not bad, hooked up with a guy from Grindr. Not a serious prospect but we enjoyed ourselves.’

That was more forward than Aziraphale expected. He supposed Noah wanted to prove that he wasn’t too heartbroken. ‘Can I admit that I’ve never been on Grindr (or any other dating app) without you thinking there’s something wrong with me?’

‘Nothing wrong w/you. I’m curious why not though? Bc of your fam?’

‘No, I wasn’t looking. I already knew who I wanted.’

“That’s sweet, angel.”

Aziraphale froze. He hadn’t registered the change in Crowley’s breathing and he wondered how long the demon had been reading over his shoulder. Not that he’d said anything in particular that he wanted to hide. Still. “It’s rude to spy on other peoples’ conversation.”

Crowley kissed his neck and pulled him into a tighter embrace. “Demon.”

“Do you want me to make you dance?”

“Maybe. You said it could be foreplay and I’d be okay with that.”

With a soft laugh, Aziraphale reached behind him and ruffled Crowley’s hair. “Insatiable.”

“Believe I said that on the phone last night.”

“No. You said aroused, libidinous, lascivious, wanton, and lustful. In that order.”

“Fuck, your brain is sexy.” Crowley buried his face into the angel’s neck. “I think your friend is waiting for a reply. Go on. I’m not looking. Wasn’t reading before, either; I just saw the one bit.”

Stroking his hair, Aziraphale turned back to his phone. Noah had written, ‘Wait, rly? How long have you two been dating? Ish?’

‘Been dancing around each other since before the advent of dating apps.’

‘Shit. I can’t tell if that’s hopelessly romantic or just hopeless.’

Now that Noah had told him about his date the previous night, Aziraphale felt more comfortable divulging his own situation. Feeling giddy, he wrote, ‘After last night, I’m hoping it falls on the romantic end of the spectrum.’

‘WHAT??? Details now!!!!!’

He hit the camera button, turned the screen around, and said, “I’m going to take a photo of us, Crowley.”

Crowley’s head popped up for a moment. He grunted before hiding his face in Aziraphale’s neck again. “Don’t want my eyes in it.”

He took a few moments to position Crowley’s hair to cover more of his face, while the demon pulled his top arm out from the blanket so that it would be visible holding Aziraphale. Grinning at the territorial display, Aziraphale took his hand, angled the camera, and took what he thought might be his favorite photo ever. They were both clearly naked despite almost no skin showing. Then he sent it to Noah with the message, ‘You were right.’

(Above art credited to: Lady_Aquila)

“You better send me a copy, too,” Crowley said, tucking his arm back in the warmth under the blanket. “And hurry up with your conversation. I want to fuck you again before we go downstairs.”

Aziraphale wiggled his bottom against him deliberately and returned to his phone. Noah had sent a heart-eyes emoji.

‘I’m so happy for you!!!! Now don’t mess it up again, right?’

‘I’ll do my best. I should go, though. Barely waking up and a certain someone is needy.’

‘I don’t blame him. Have fun!’

He set his phone aside. “Done. Happy?”

“Will be, once you turn over so I can kiss you.”

Crowley’s burgeoning erection was pressed into his buttocks, and Aziraphale had no intention of moving. He wiggled again. “Hmm, I think maybe we should try this.”

Obligingly, Crowley brought a hand down to caress his opening. “No foreplay first?”

Aziraphale pulled his hand away. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Good. I like foreplay.” Both hands came up to his chest, thumbs playing gently with his nipples. “Mm, no, I love foreplay.”

His hips were going in a slow rhythm now, allowing Aziraphale to time his next little wiggle properly to indicate exactly what he meant.

“Ohhh. Oh, angel, ah…I’m not sure either of us are ready for that. Physically.”

“We could try?” He couldn’t keep the hope out of his voice. He wanted Crowley inside him so badly. It was a fantasy he’d had since long before he’d fallen in love, back when it was the two of them working against each other here on earth (but really already enjoying each other’s company). Public sex may not have provided enough details, but it certainly had given him ideas. Even then, he hadn’t been able to deny his attraction.

Crowley moved out from behind him, rolling him onto his back and straddling him. Their cocks lined up, creating a frisson of pleasure, but the demon didn’t give in to the urge to rock against him. “One day, I will happily fuck you like that, but let me tell you what would happen if we tried today. I seem to be very good at getting aroused to the point of coming too quickly. Even if you were perfectly prepared for me, just the act of lubricating myself—especially if you did it, or if I thought at all about what was about to happen—would almost be enough to put me over. I wouldn’t get half an inch into you and I’d be through. It would be awful for you.”

“Actually, the idea of you trying to get inside, desperately pushing but unable to get far, and coming along my edges—”

Crowley’s hand came down over his mouth and he sucked in a deep breath. “Did you not just hear me say I’m struggling not to come too quickly as it is? Fuck, angel!”

Aziraphale grinned underneath the hand that held him and watched Crowley’s eyes shut as he tried to regain his equilibrium.

Eventually, the hand was removed and he began again. “As for you, I could barely get a finger inside you last night. This morning. Whenever it was. Even with lube, there’s no way I’m getting in until your body is better prepared. My cock is a lot bigger than my finger.”

“It would be disappointing if it wasn’t.”

Crowley began to laugh. He dropped onto Aziraphale, wrapping arms around him, whole body shaking with mirth. “I love you so much, you ridiculous angel.” When he looked up, his eyes were equal parts amusement and adoration. “Point is, we can try this, but it might not be what you want. Might be better to stick with some of the less complicated bits.”

“Like trying to swallow with a great big cock in your mouth? Because let me tell you, that was plenty counterintuitive, Crowley.”

He grinned. “Don’t care if you swallow. Feels great without that part.”

“I’m going to do it right one day.”

“Not sure there’s a ‘right’ way, love. How about we do it our way?”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. He was still determined, but he kept the words inside. “Is that what you want today?”

Crowley stroked his face. “To tell you the truth, what I’d really like is to kiss you without thinking about what may or may not follow. I told you—I’m good. I could come just from pressing up against you like this. I could probably come from listening to your filthy little mouth, if you keep talking like you were a second ago. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m afraid I’m not very good at not worrying.”

“I know, love. Listen. You led me last night. Could you maybe let me lead you this time?” When Aziraphale bit his lip, considering, Crowley leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Surrender to me.”

And so he did. He closed his eyes and felt Crowley’s lips touch his, felt his mouth open and his tongue reach out to explore. The demon’s arm came around his shoulders, holding him tight, while his other arm tucked into the space between them, lightly stroking Aziraphale as they rocked in sync.

This time, there was no frenetic pace, no rush toward climax. Just a gentle slope upwards with the focus firmly on the interplay of their mouths. Aziraphale ran his hands over Crowley’s back, through his hair, down his hips, across his chest. Exploring. Learning. Somehow, Crowley kept himself centered so that his body remained neutral until the angel orgasmed into his hand between them. A few more thrusts against Aziraphale’s hipbone, and he came as well.

When it was over, Aziraphale didn’t believe he would ever feel so full with love again, and yet he simultaneously knew that it would happen again, better, more. They kept kissing long after their bodies were sated, until Crowley suggested they go to the Ritz for dinner as a proper date.

“It’s not what I originally planned as a so-called first date, but I’d like to take you.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Aziraphale said. “And then I can cross out another item on my List. We’ve certainly tackled quite a few of them in the last twenty-four hours.”

“You and your list,” Crowley said with a laugh, shaking his head. He climbed out of bed, looked around, and said, “Um, angel? I didn’t bring any clothes with me…”

Chapter Text

For a time, Aziraphale decided to follow Crowley’s lead and not rush into everything at the same time. Of course, the two of them were practically inseparable as the next few weeks passed. Crowley helped him to find a good realtor and went with him to appointments and viewings. Neither of them corrected the woman when she assumed they were looking for a place together.

“Might as well, right?” Crowley asked after the first appointment. “I mean, you could move in with me, but my flat couldn’t really accommodate your library, and you never know if Hell might decide to commandeer it again.”

Aziraphale agreed, his heart bursting that Crowley wanted to live with him full time. Given that they were always together, it shouldn’t have made much of a difference to hear it spoken aloud. Yet it did, a soothing reassurance, to know that they both wanted together as an end-goal.

They seemed to have plenty of time to find the right place, however, as contrary to Aziraphale’s initial thoughts, no one from Heaven had bothered to check in with Muriel since they’d become official ambassador to earth. Muriel was perfectly happy to spend their days not-actually-running the bookshop, speed-reading through Aziraphale’s books and learning about the world at an accelerated rate that took everyone by surprise. Their cheerful demeanor and happy acceptance of both Aziraphale’s quirks and Crowley’s demonic nature—not to mention the obvious relationship between the two—made them a welcome companion. And they loved humanity. Heaven may have sent them because they were low-level and obedient, but they couldn’t have chosen a better ambassador as far as the world was concerned.

Aziraphale took Muriel ice skating like they’d requested. He used more miracles than he would admit on keeping himself upright. Muriel used a skate trainer meant for children until they learned how to glide and balance, and it didn’t take long before they had far outpaced what Aziraphale would ever be able to do in terms of movement on the ice. They enjoyed everything from the cold air rushing against their face to the tumbled heaps they landed in trying to do minor tricks. Aziraphale eventually stepped out of the arena to stand next to Crowley, who had refused to put on skates and watched the two of them instead. He grinned like a fool at every one of Muriel’s antics, and Aziraphale loved him even harder for it.

He and Crowley went for pedicures together, and then Crowley got a manicure with Muriel while Aziraphale took some time for a massage—another item on his list that he’d long wanted to try but had worried Heaven would look askance at. After all, bodies were human, not angelic, so tending to the body in any unnecessary way was frowned upon. Heaven barely tolerated that he ate food, in spite of him reiterating over the centuries that it was important to blend in. By the time he’d finished his half-hour session, Aziraphale had decided he was getting a monthly membership package.

There were a few items on his list that Aziraphale decided to remove. The beard drove him mad. He remembered back to the days when fluffy sideburns were the fashion, and how itchy they were. He’d forgotten about the itchiness. After three days of letting his face get scruffy, he gave up and crossed the item off the list. (He did, however, go with Muriel to a costume shop and bought them the fluffiest Santa beard on offer. Muriel wore it for seven days straight, startling several customers into leaving the bookshop almost immediately upon entering. Aziraphale was perfectly happy with this development.)

He also gave up on joining a book club after attending three different groups on offer and discovering that each were more intent on gossip than on discussing the selected book. “More than half the attendees don’t even read the book!” he complained to Crowley after the last attempt.

“I think the goal is more to make friends than to read.”

“Then they should call it a friend club, not a book club.”

“Maybe you’ll start your own one day, when we get our place. Then you can have people over, and serve them canapes and good wine, and you’ll enjoy the company so much that you’ll realize why the book part is only secondary.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips but didn’t respond. The portrait Crowley painted actually did sound nice. Maybe he just needed to find the right people. None of the groups he’d attended had been even close to right.

As Crowley pointed out on more than one occasion, Aziraphale’s bucket list was almost entirely a ruse, so he didn’t spend too much effort on the padding items (as the demon called them). Muriel, on the other hand, took theirs so seriously it was as if they were determined to complete every item as soon as possible, preferably within a month or two. They went to concerts and plays and a magic show (with Aziraphale happily in tow), visited an animal shelter (to play with the dogs and cats), and explored the London Zoo (and was sad to learn that they could not pet the animals within). About a month after the creation of their list, they sat both angel and demon down in the bookshop with a serious look on their face.

“It’s time,” they said. “I would like to eat something.”

“Want me to grab something from the kitchen?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale nudged his foot. “Or, um, is there a specific food you’d like?”

Muriel looked slightly panicked at the idea of eating right now. Aziraphale kicked Crowley’s foot again and said, “I have a suggestion. Why don’t you take the afternoon off? Take some time to do whatever you might like to do, and then come back at seven tonight. We will set up a nice first meal for you, with all the proper ceremony it deserves. I know it can be very intimidating the first time, so we’ll make sure everything here is as comfortable as possible.”

The look Muriel gave him was pure gratitude. “Thank you, sir! I know I can trust you both to help me get it right.”

Crowley swallowed a laugh, rubbing at his face to hide his grin. “Is there anything in particular you’d like us to include tonight?”

Muriel looked back and forth between them, biting their lip, and eventually shook their head. “Whatever you think is best, Aziraphale sir.”

It was an obvious lie, but Aziraphale wasn’t going to push them into revealing whatever it was they were craving. After tonight, they’d be able to get it on their own. He had a feeling that he knew exactly how this night was going to go, and waved Muriel off cheerfully right away so that he had plenty of time to prepare.

“Do you think they don’t trust my tastes?” Crowley asked after Muriel was gone. Aziraphale looked at him, confused, so he elaborated. “They said whatever you think is best. Not us.”

“Crowley, dear, you almost never eat.”

“I—okay, that’s fair.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath and rubbed his hands together. “Right. We have a lot to prepare!”

“Think this is going to go like the ox-ribs?”

“Absolutely. Only with a lot more variety.”

“Mmm.” Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale from behind and kissed his neck. “You were sooooo hungry that day.”

“I doubt we have time for—”

“Watching you, it drove me mad, angel. We were still barely learning how to interact with each other, and it was all I could do not to shove you up against the wall and give you a different kind of hunger.”

His hands were roaming Aziraphale’s body now, drawing out little whimpers against his will. “I know for a fact that you didn’t have the experience to pull off that sort of stunt back then. Besides, I was disgusting, all smeared with grease, completely out of control.”

“That was the best part, seeing you hungry and carnal and frenzied.” Crowley’s hands were down his pants now, and Aziraphale leaned back into him to keep from collapsing. “You’re right, I didn’t have the experience, but fuck I wanted you. Wanted to suck your fingers clean one by one and then lick the grease off your face. It was all I could do to keep from squirming as I laid there watching your backside wiggle in pleasure with every bite. I kept hoping you’d turn around and jump on me.”

“Alright, alright, I give in, but we need to make this quick. There is ever so much to prepare for!”

A snap, and the blinds were closed. Another snap, the door locked. Crowley hustled Aziraphale toward the sofa, kissing him the whole way until the angel dropped into the seat. A third snap, and Aziraphale’s clothes were neatly folded on his desk.

“Yours?” he asked as Crowley dropped to his knees.

He shook his head and began to lick up Aziraphale’s thighs. It never ceased to make him painfully hard to watch Crowley kneel in front of him and start to use that tongue. He’d always known that the demon could do incredible things with his tongue; he just hadn’t known that one day he’d get to experience said things on his own flesh. His inner thighs were sucked and licked, one after another, then the creases where his legs met his groin. Crowley’s hands roamed hips and thighs and buttocks, avoiding his most sensitive areas until Aziraphale was nearly doubled over with need, begging and whining.

It was just like that video he’d found over a month ago. Crowley liked to start at his base, massaging the underside of his shaft with his tongue, teasing and tasting, before he took Aziraphale’s cock into his mouth. He never used his hand. He didn’t need to, could take the whole of him inside. It was unfair, really, his serpent’s tongue and lack of gag reflex. He could drive the angel to madness this way, and he chose to, his movements slow and languorous until Aziraphale couldn’t stand it any longer.

The first time they’d done this, Crowley had pulled off halfway through. Burning yellow eyes locked on his, and he’d said, “If you want me to go faster, pull my hair and force me to move.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

“You’re not going to hurt me. I want this. I want you to fuck my mouth. As fast and as hard as you need. Use me, Aziraphale. Please. I will probably come before you do.”

His research had come in handy. “Can’t use a safeword if I’m in your mouth,” he mused. “It’ll have to be a hand signal.”

Crowley looked amused at the idea of needing to tap out, but he agreed to pat an SOS on Aziraphale’s thigh if he wanted to stop. So far, he hadn’t done so, but each time they did this, before the angel consented to grab his hair, he asked, “SOS still fine?”

Today, Crowley gave him a thumbs up, not breaking his rhythm. Aziraphale waited as long as he could before he threaded his fingers into those red locks. Crowley whimpered, anticipatory, and the angel made him wait a little longer before the first pull and thrust.

It felt so good: getting so far in that he actually touched the demon’s throat, the saliva coating him extra thick, even the minor thrill from controlling the speed and rhythm. Aziraphale had never thought he’d want to do anything this forceful, but as soon as he started, he lost control completely, letting pleasure take over. The more rational part of him remembered to move one of his legs, angling it under Crowley’s crotch, giving him leverage to thrust as well, even if he chose to keep his clothes on this time. They were both incoherent to desire now, rushing fast toward climax, and as it almost always happened, the demon came first. Aziraphale felt the spasm through trousers, and then warmth and wetness hit his leg. It was delectable and led to the last few rough thrusts before he came with a moan, buried deep in Crowley’s mouth.

Crowley didn’t swallow. He never did, preferring to let everything drip back out in a pooling mess. Once, Aziraphale had asked him why. He was a bit annoyed at how easily Crowley did this, when he was still struggling to get it right, and he suspected the not-swallowing was the demon’s way of consoling him. He hadn’t expected the wicked grin.

“It’s hotter this way. Nearly makes me come a second time, when you do it. When it all drips from your lips afterwards.”

Aziraphale stopped caring so much about swallowing after that.

Crowley laid his cheek down in the mess they’d made. “Okay. I know we need to get to work on Muriel’s feast, but give me five minutes to linger, please.”

Aziraphale had no objection. He ran fingers through the hair he’d tangled, letting his nails scrape gently over the demon’s scalp to sooth any lingering pain there. Crowley loved having his scalp scrubbed, it had been a delight to discover. He thought he’d known him before this month, after thousands of years together, but there were so many intimate details that only came to light once touch was introduced.

By the time Muriel returned that evening, they (and the bookshop) were both cleaned of any evidence of their afternoon tryst, and a large table was set with (electric) candles and a dozen different platters of food. Muriel’s eyes widened in panic at seeing the feast before them. They shot an apologetic look at Aziraphale and said, “I’m so sorry, sir, I don’t think I can eat all of this!”

Knowing well otherwise, he only smiled and said, “Of course not, dear. We only wanted to give you options to taste. You’re not required to eat much of anything. It would have been a shame to accidentally serve you something you disliked on your first attempt, though, wouldn’t it?”

“How will I know what to try?” Muriel asked, still looking apprehensive.

“Why not choose one that smells interesting? You can sniff them all. Don’t worry about looking silly. We both went through this same thing once, and it’s only us here.”

He and Crowley backed away, sitting together in an armchair, comfortable enough to be twined around each other in front of Muriel. For their part, Muriel was circling the table, bending over to sniff at different platters while also shooting apprehensive looks in their direction. Eventually, they chose a plate of bangers and mash. As they brought the first bite of sausage to their mouth, their expression bordered on panic again. Wincing, they put it in their mouth and bit down.

They froze, eyes going wide. Aziraphale grinned, and he knew that right next to him, Crowley was grinning, too. “Oh,” Muriel said.

“Eat up,” Aziraphale told them. “There’s more if you need it. Take everything you want.”

Chapter Text

“Crowley?” Aziraphale was sitting on the bookshop sofa one evening, with the demon’s head in his lap, updating his list. “I need five new random numbers.”

“You haven’t finished the last batch,” Crowley pointed out.

“One has to wait until the summer, remember? And one is pending our removal to a new living space. I signed up for that class but it doesn’t start for another two months. So I need new numbers to work on.”

“Can I choose?” Muriel asked from where they sat at a nearby table, reading and making notes in their notepad.

Crowley started to object, but Aziraphale said, “Sure!”

As the demon shot him an annoyed look, Muriel said, “Five thousand two hundred eighty six, three hundred fifty—”

“No, wait. Muriel. Sorry, there’s a range of numbers to choose from.”

“Oh.” They turned back to their book. “Never mind, then. That’s no fun.”

Crowley cackled. “I’ll do it. Don’t remember which ones I chose before, though.”

“I took off all the pending and completed ones. New range goes through twenty-three.”

“Have we literally only crossed eleven off the list?”

Aziraphale glanced at Muriel, who seemed intent on their book. “Well, dear, we have been rather consistent in our explorations.”

“Ah, I guess I won’t accidentally choose five non-salacious entries this time,” Crowley murmured, turning so that his face was pressed closer to Aziraphale’s stomach.

“The variety of choices has diminished somewhat,” he conceded.

“Good,” Crowley said, just as Muriel sighed and declared, “I’m not a child. I know what you’re talking about, and I thought you specifically said that intimacy was a private matter, so why are you talking about your sex life with me literally right here?”

Crowley’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, and Aziraphale’s face grew hot. “I apologize, dear.”

“It’s fine, I don’t care. Talk about whatever you like. Just stop with the metaphors as if I won’t understand them.”

Aziraphale’s face was still burning, but Crowley rolled onto his back and grinned up at him. “Okay. Twenty-two, eleven, five, eighteen, ten. What treats am I in for?”

He looked over the list, eyes going wide. In his peripheral vision, he could see that Muriel was listening intently, only pretending to read now. No. No, no, no. This was horrible. “Um. There’s one item that has to remain private. Not a sex item. It’s a surprise. For later. Then one of them is to go to a nightclub. I’ve never been to one before, did you know that?”

“I didn’t. The others?”

So much for trying to distract him. Crowley was grinning wider now, and Muriel watched him openly. There was no way he was going to say the other three items aloud. “I’ll text them to you,” he whispered, earning himself another cackle.

“For someone who has a sexual wish list, you certainly can be a prude sometimes.”

If angels could have heart attacks, Aziraphale thought he might be dying of one right now. “I cannot believe you just said that out loud.”

“What? Sexual wish list? It was your name for it, love. I didn’t make it up.”

Even Muriel was laughing at him now. Aziraphale covered his face. He was never, ever going to be able to face the world again. Crowley’s head disappeared from his lap, and then his entire weight was on top of his legs and the demon’s hands were cupping his head.

“Hey,” Crowley whispered. “Love. It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with knowing what you want and expressing it. Nothing at all. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

Aziraphale peeked out from between his fingers. Crowley’s face made up his entire field of vision, his expression soft and tender and concerned.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to embarrass you. I only meant a little light teasing. Do you want me to dance? Will that help?”

At that, Aziraphale managed a small puff of laughter. He lowered his hands. “No, it’s okay. I just feel…silly.”

“I love that you have this list for us, angel.” Crowley ran his hands through his blond curls, pulling lightly at them exactly as Aziraphale liked. “It’s so perfect because it’s so you. Come here.”

Crowley gathered him into a hug, and Aziraphale held him tightly. He still couldn’t look at Muriel, but they spoke up anyway. “If it helps, sir, I now have my own sexual wish list.”

Both of them turned at that. “Wait,” Crowley said. “You said—”

“I know, but that was before I understood. You really gave it a horrible description, Crowley. Absolutely rubbish description. The internet does a much better job. And it had lots of suggestions for me.” They stood. “Do either of you want tea?”

“Um, sure,” Crowley said as Aziraphale was overcome with giggles. He waited until Muriel left the room before saying, “Okay. Now tell me what these other three items are. If you prefer privacy, now’s your chance.”

Even though there was no possibility that Muriel could hear from the kitchen, especially given that they were humming to themself as they put the kettle on, Aziraphale leaned in to whisper. “Rimming, phone sex, and…why is it so much harder to say these things aloud than to write them down? Ugh. Mutual masturbation. Now I’m going to hide my face again.”

But Crowley kissed him, preventing him from said hiding. “All those things. As soon as possible. I still can’t believe we haven’t done the phone one yet.”

“We haven’t been apart long enough. We will soon, though. The surprise item on the list—I’ll have to travel for that one. Alone. So we’ll have lots of opportunities for phone sex in the near future.”

“I can’t tell if I’m looking forward to that or not. The sex, yes. The being alone, no. How long will you be gone?”

“Probably about a week, I’m afraid. I still have to sort the details. Maybe I can aim for only five days.”

Crowley shifted so that they were in a more comfortable position together, holding each other on the sofa. “Ngh. I could always pick a different number. You could save that one until we’ve had more time together.”

“Somehow, I don’t think a few more months is going to make any difference in how much time we want to spend together. We’re making up for hundreds of years here.”

“Thousands,” Crowley amended, and kissed him again.

They continued kissing until Muriel set two cups of tea next to them with a dramatic fake throat-clearing. Aziraphale prodded his feelings at their teasing and realized he no longer felt too much of the humiliation of a few minutes before. Taking a sip of his tea, he asked Crowley, “What are some good night clubs around here?”

“How would I know? I’m a demon, not an extrovert.”

“I take it then that you’ll be no of use when I’m looking for somewhere for karaoke or pub trivia, either?” When Crowley shook his head, he said, “I suppose I should ask Noah.”

Crowley growled a little at that, and Aziraphale playfully swatted his arse.

“Muriel, do you want to join me at any of those activities? Since my companion here doesn’t like to go out?”

“I’ll go with you, angel,” Crowley grumbled.

“Me, too!” Muriel said. “Unless it’s something you can only do with two, and then I think you should let Crowley have first pick since he’s the one having sex with you.”

“Yeah, angel. I’m having sex with you, so I should always come first.”

“You do always come first,” Aziraphale muttered, and Crowley burst out laughing. “But you absolutely may join us, Muriel. The more, the merrier. Maybe Noah and whoever his date-of-the-moment is will join us, too.”

Crowley’s grunt of displeasure was drowned out by Muriel’s excited clapping. “I can’t wait to meet more friends, Aziraphale sir!”

The demon slid back down so that his head was in Aziraphale’s lap again. Aziraphale finished his tea and began on the second cup that Crowley had neglected in his pout. He texted Noah.

‘Hey, I have a few questions about the nightlife around here. (Don’t tease me for being ignorant. I told you. Buttoned-up.)’

Noah sent back a grinning emoji. ‘Might tease anyway. Whatcha wanna know?’

‘I’m planning a few outings. Actually—how would you feel about meeting for coffee again? Been awhile.’

‘Sure! Same spot? Will you bring Crowley with you? Might be good for him to see I’m not tryin to push in on his territory’

Aziraphale looked down at the minor frown still lingering on Crowley’s face. ‘Maybe. I’ll see how grumpy he gets about the idea.’ After a second of consideration, he wrote, ‘Also might bring along another friend, if that’s okay? Muriel. I work with them. They’re new to town and looking to meet people.’

‘Yeah cool, always happy to meet new ppl’

They agreed on a date and time, and then Aziraphale put his phone away. Crowley muttered, “Done talking to your other boyfriend?”

“Muriel? Would you like Crowley to dance for you again?”

Crowley rolled over. “See if you get any sex out of me tonight.”

Aziraphale snorted at that. “We’re meeting for coffee on Friday. You’ve been invited as well, both of you.”

“Ngh,” Crowley said. Aziraphale stroked his hair, letting his fingernails scrape his scalp. After a moment, he turned back over and put his arms around the angel’s middle. Face pressed into his stomach, he said, “Probably ought to stay home so I don’t make a mess of things.”

“I trust you to behave.”

Another indistinct grunt. “Shouldn’t. I’m a demon.”

Crowley couldn’t see him, not with his face buried this way, but Aziraphale smiled down at him fondly and continued to stroke his hair.

Chapter Text

Crowley was restless for the remainder of the evening. Aziraphale didn’t think he was actually wrestling with jealousy, but he could tell something was on his mind. He purposely stayed in the main part of the bookshop, not wanting to retreat to their bedroom and get distracted.

Eventually, Muriel retired for the night, and Aziraphale said, “Alright, now. Want to tell me what’s got you twitchy tonight?”

“M’not twitchy,” he said, though an actual, literal twitch of his shoulder contradicted him.

“This isn’t about Noah, is it, dear? Because you have nothing to worry about there.”

“Want to worry,” Crowley muttered. When the angel looked at him in confusion, he covered his eyes with one arm. “I have…ngh…my own list.”

A little thrill went through Aziraphale’s core at that. “I see. And one of the items on this list involves jealousy?”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, finally grunting and pulling out his phone. A text buzzed in Aziraphale’s pocket a moment later.

‘roleplay’

That was a delightful idea. Aziraphale wished he’d thought to put that on his own list. He’d never been the best actor, but then again, each time he’d had to act in the past, his or someone else’s life depended on it. Perhaps it would be different in play.

Feeling as if he were about step off a ledge or touch an electric fence, he said, “You want me to tell you the truth then?”

Crowley’s body went perfectly still. He removed his arm from his face and looked at Aziraphale with unblinking yellow eyes.

“I did find him attractive. Do, really. Not that I would choose him over you, of course, but sometimes, I wonder—if you got to know him, maybe you would find him attractive, too. Maybe we could try it out, all three of us—”

Before he knew what was happening, Crowley had launched off the sofa and dragged him to his feet toward the spiral staircase. His hand was tight on the angel’s wrist, and he slammed the bedroom door after he pulled Aziraphale inside. Then he slammed Aziraphale into the door, hands pressed tight against his shoulders.

Face close, Crowley hissed, “I’m going to fuck you until you are so blissfully satisfied that you won’t even think of him.”

Eyebrow raised, Aziraphale said, “Until I see him on Friday. You really should come along, you might like him…”

“Going to fuck you until you see stars.”

“Might see stars faster with both of you on me. One of you between my legs; one of you in my mouth.”

Crowley moved closer but still didn’t make contact. “I will. Not. Share. You.”

Aziraphale could feel the heat coming off of him, could feel his pulse pounding. For a moment, he was unsure. Was this wrong? Was Crowley actually upset? Did he think he was serious about any of the things he was saying? He opened his mouth to ask, only to have it instantly claimed in a forceful kiss.

“Don’t,” Crowley whispered in his ear when they broke apart. “Tease me. Wind me up. Make me see red.” He pulled away and grinned, and it was so wicked that Aziraphale’s knees almost gave way. “Then I get to decide how to punish you after.”

He stepped away, and suddenly Aziraphale had to steady himself against the door. Panting, eyes narrowed in on the glorious vision that was Crowley, he said, “And how are you going to punish me tonight?”

Crowley tapped his mouth with one finger pensively. “I think you need a lesson, don’t you? You’re mine. It’s time to properly claim you, don’t you think?”

At that, Aziraphale’s legs did give way, and he slid downwards. Crowley caught him before he hit the ground. He stared into the demon’s yellow eyes, mouth open, trying but unable to respond. After a few moments, Crowley cocked his head.

“Is that…okay with you still?”

Aziraphale nodded hastily, and he finally found his words. “Yes. Please. Come inside me. Bury yourself in me. Mark me as yours. Claim me. I need you.”

He kept babbling idiotically as Crowley lifted him to his feet and led him shakily to the bed.

They undressed together in little bursts, not using miracles, their bodies pressed together as they kissed each other hungrily. Aziraphale felt ridiculous for it, but he was holding back tears, and Crowley kissed his eyes to say he understood. For a brief moment, he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to stop himself from coming before they even got started, so great was his anticipation, but before he could express this, Crowley pulled back and spoke.

“Need break character for a moment, love,” he said, stroking hands down Aziraphale’s hips and back. “Sorry about this, but it’s important. I’ve been doing some research. I thought that if I gave myself enough time and experience, eventually my body would settle down and I wouldn’t be trying not to come after five minutes every time. Clearly, that’s not the case, so I’ve been looking into it. I’ve found some things to try and gotten some advice on how to maybe draw things out a little longer.”

Aziraphale nodded. His body was settling back to normal, recovering his equilibrium while Crowley spoke.

“So before we do this, I’m going to ask if you could maybe get me off a first time. However you want. Then I’ll let my body recover from that while I work on opening you up, and by the time you’re ready, I’ll be ready too. I should last longer the second time. Might still have to take some breaks to pull back while we do this, but I’m afraid that might just be the way it is with my body. I hope that’s not too disappointing for you.”

“Disappointing? Getting to suck you off and have you inside me?”

Crowley laughed. “Well, when you put it that way…”

“Are you disappointed that I can’t get much more than half of your cock in my mouth before I start to gag and have to pull back?”

“Of course not.”

“See? We both have our limitations. Maybe they’ll get better over time. And if they don’t, we help each other and find ways to work with what we have.”

With a grin, Crowley said, “And we visit a sex shop, because I’ve read about a few items that might help both of us with these issues.”

“Hmm,” Aziraphale said, nuzzling into Crowley’s neck. “You haven’t picked that number yet.”

“Ha!”

Aziraphale kissed his way down Crowley’s chest. Normally, he lingered far more over the foreplay bits that the demon loved so much, but tonight he was too impatient. He used a little lubricant on his fingers to massage down testicles and press lightly into the perineum the way Crowley liked, and took his cock into his mouth.

Even without being able to take him in completely, Aziraphale had gotten far better at technique with practice. He let the fluids flow from his mouth freely, so that the glide of his tongue and lips felt and sounded better. Crowley never did last long, and within minutes, he was coming. The angel didn’t bother to try to swallow any longer, enjoying the demon’s groan of pleasure at the sight.

“Don’t clean it,” he grunted when Aziraphale moved to gesture.

He looked up, surprised, and Crowley motioned for him to lie on his back. Once Aziraphale obeyed, Crowley wiped up the spilled seed and massaged it like lubricant over the edges of the angel’s hole. “Oh!” Aziraphale said, eyes wide.

“Mind if I use my tongue for a bit?”

“Fuck no but I’m not crossing it off my list until I can do it to you, too.”

Crowley buried his face in Aziraphale’s arse, and the latter moaned with pleasure as the demon’s tongue—he could write sonnets to that tongue!—licked and massaged and burrowed its way into his opening. He hoisted the angel up to a new angle, pulling legs over his shoulders to get more leverage and access. A lubricated finger joined the tongue, moving in and out, curling at the deepest part to press. It felt so good, and then a second finger replaced his tongue, and Crowley pulled up to speak.

“I think…I think I’m ready. Remember, I’ll hold on as long as I can but I might have to take some breaks, okay?”

Aziraphale nodded, unable to form words. He didn’t know how long he would last either at this point. He’d had Crowley’s fingers inside him quite a number of times now, but this was the first time they had been accompanied by either tongue or the promise of more.

Crowley lowered him gently from the elevated position he’d been working in and carefully removed his fingers. He spread lubricant over his cock, stopping with his eyes closed to squeeze around the head for a few seconds. Then, he spread the angel’s cheeks apart and lined himself up. As their skin touched, he looked at Aziraphale and said, “You are so incredibly beautiful.” Then his eyes darkened. “And no one else can have you.”

Then he pushed, and the first bit of him slid in. They both groaned and paused to let each of them adjust to the sensation. Aziraphale clutched at his hips, urging him onwards, but the demon gave him that wicked grin again.

“Tell me. No one else can have you.”

“No one. I’m yours. Only yours.”

Crowley pulled back slightly and pushed again, and even without an orgasm, Aziraphale already saw stars. “More,” he begged. A cocked eyebrow, and he added, “Yours! Make me yours!” He was obliged with another thrust inward that seemed to turn his body inside out. “There! There!” he screamed. He knew Crowley wasn’t all the way inside him, but he’d found a spot, and Aziraphale needed him to press and press and press.

“Angel,” Crowley panted as he rocked in and out exactly as requested. “I’m going to need to pull out soon, take a break, just warning you…”

“No. Crowley. I’m going to come. Stay with me. I’m going to co—” The word became a howl as a last, rough thrust slammed into him with the perfect amount of force and sent him over the edge.

He clenched up around the cock inside him, spurring Crowley on to his own orgasm, and then the demon collapsed in a heap on top of him. For a moment, they were both breathing too heavily to speak. Then Crowley leaned up to whisper in his ear. “Mine.”

Chapter Text

Aziraphale’s walk had a distinct bounce to it as he set off to meet with Noah on Friday. Crowley had claimed him every night this week, and he was both mildly sore and deliriously happy.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” he’d asked before he left the bookshop.

“I should stay. If I went today, it would be for the wrong reasons. You deserve to meet with your friends without needing to reassure me.”

“If you change your mind—”

“—then you’ll know the pressure got to me, and you can make me dance. Win-win, right?”

Aziraphale laughed and gave him a long kiss before he left. Muriel had originally planned to accompany him, but claimed at the last moment to be right at the good part of their book. They’d glanced at Crowley behind his back, and Aziraphale understood. They would keep the demon company while he was anxious.

Noah, once again, was already waiting for him.

“I always thought I was early to things,” Aziraphale told him as they hugged and kissed cheeks.

“My parents were perpetually late to everything. I’m afraid I’m a bit neurotic about being on time, so I always end up extra early. Didn’t you say you were bringing a friend?”

“They couldn’t step away from the shop when I was leaving, I’m afraid.” He decided against mentioning Crowley’s agitation.

“And Crowley opted out?”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile when Noah said his name. “He said he didn’t want to make things awkward or uncomfortable.”

Noah grinned. “You look really happy. So much happier than when we met before.”

“Thank you. I am. I…sometimes I can’t believe this is actually happening. Finally. That I get to have him.” To his embarrassment, tears came to his eyes. He sniffed and laughed as he wiped at them. “Sorry to be so sappy.”

“Don’t be! You deserve it, after all the two of you went through—and I’m sure I don’t know a fraction of it! Come on. Let’s get drinks and sit down. You can tell me about these outings.”

They bought their drinks and settled at a table, where Noah gave him an entire list of queer-centric nightlife recommendations in the area. Even without technically having a gender or defined sexuality, Aziraphale had come to realize that this was his community, the people who accepted him—and Crowley—warmly. It was the space he best slotted into, and he wanted to be with them as he explored all these things that he had never done before. He felt comfortable here, even as he thought of tackling some of the more intimidating items on his list. (Like karaoke. He hoped that Muriel would sing with him because he was certain that Crowley wouldn’t.)

“You’re invited to go with us,” Aziraphale told him. “You and whatever friends or date you want to bring along. We need to get out more, meet more people, the three of us. Muriel’s new in town, like I mentioned. Crowley is a bit of a hermit, and I’ve spent most of my life in hiding. It still gives me a little thrill to think I can be out like this. With him. Publicly.”

Noah nodded. “I remember that feeling. Coming out to the world. I imagine we’re pretty close in age—I’m forty—so you know it wasn’t easy being gay when we were teenagers.”

Aziraphale tilted his head in acknowledgement. It would’ve been true for Noah’s teen years, even if he himself was far, far older than Noah would ever know.

“I used to claim bisexuality. Dated girls because it was easier socially. It wasn’t right, not for me, not for them. I felt guilty all the time for it. I was using them. So for a time in my twenties, I stopped dating altogether. It was very freeing when I finally said enough is enough, and let myself be, well, myself.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes. They weren’t in the same situation, but Noah’s description was perfectly spot-on. “I used to think something was wrong with me. That no one could care for me, that I was too…off. I wasn’t good enough for any of the worlds I was meant to be in.” He opened his eyes. “Then I finally realized, I was trying to fit into the wrong worlds. I needed to find my kind of different. Only it took me until my mid-forties to figure it out.”

His phone, which was out on the table as he’d been taking notes about nightclubs and such, lit up with a call from Crowley. Aziraphale smiled to himself and shook his head. He silenced the call and turned the phone over. Noah raised an eyebrow at him.

“He knows I don’t answer the phone when I’m otherwise engaged.”

The look Noah gave him said, up to you, but he only said, “Can I ask a question about him?” Aziraphale nodded. “If I’m out of line, tell me to mind my own business, okay? But does he have an eye condition? Is that why he’s always got sunglasses on? Only I noticed he was wearing them in the picture that just popped up, too, is why I ask.”

“He does, yes.” For a moment, he debated how much to say. “It’s not what most people assume—light sensitivity—but to be honest, I’d feel more comfortable if I let him discuss that himself.”

“Got it. Not a problem. I just didn’t want to assume it was a medical thing if he does it for style. Or vice versa. That could lead to some awkwardness down the road, and I have a feeling that at least for a while, there’s going to be some inherent awkwardness between him and me.”

“Hopefully not for too long. It would help if he stopped calling and texting,” Aziraphale said, giving his phone an annoyed look as it buzzed with an incoming text, “while I’m out with friends. He did promise me that he’d behave.”

Noah grimaced. “Could be important?”

With a sigh, Aziraphale unlocked his phone to read the text. ‘angel you rly need to learn to answer’

He began to type a response—‘I thought you’—when Noah cleared his throat and kicked his foot under the table. Aziraphale looked up to see Crowley walking through the café door. His expression was carefully neutral, but the angel could see stress in every line of his muscles. When he caught Aziraphale’s eye, he shook his head slightly. Both Aziraphale and Noah stood up as he approached.

“You have a visitor,” Crowley said as he reached the table. “Yusha’s in town.”

Aziraphale’s brows drew down in confusion as the bell over the door went off again behind Crowley. He heard a familiar laugh and suddenly felt faint. Crowley took his elbow to steady him.

“Tried to call you. To warn you,” the demon murmured.

Aziraphale stared across the café, where Muriel was smiling up at the man whose arm held theirs. He laughed again, looked around, and caught Aziraphale’s eye, his own liquid brown eyes lighting up. His hair made a fluffy halo around his head, and he’d grown out his beard and mustache. There were tattoo sleeves, water- and fish-themed, visible on his light brown forearms, and his septum was pierced. He’d certainly worked hard on his look to bring it up to date, right down to the sort of outfit Crowley would have put together.

“Wow,” Noah said under his breath, and Aziraphale fought down a hysterical giggle. “Ex-boyfriend?”

“Not…not exactly.”

Yusha waved and began to lead Muriel in their direction.

“An old friend of ours,” Crowley said. “Neither of us thought we’d see him again so soon.”

That was an understatement. But what else could he say? That the Son of God had unexpectedly returned to earth?

Jesus—Yusha—wrapped Aziraphale in a giant bear hug. “So good to see you! I missed you. And I hear you and Crowley finally got yourselves sorted. Congrats! You both deserve every happiness.” He pulled back and beamed at all of them. His eyes snagged on Noah, and Aziraphale didn’t miss the way they tracked him up and down. This was going to get messy. “Now, darling, you absolutely must introduce me to your friend!”

Chapter Text

Still arm-in-arm, Yusha and Muriel went to the counter to order drinks. Crowley stayed behind, giving Aziraphale a quick kiss. “Are you okay?” he murmured in his ear.

Aziraphale nodded. He wasn’t, not really. He wasn’t sure what it meant that Jesus was on earth again, and it wasn’t exactly like he could ask with Noah standing beside him.

“Can I get you a refill, angel?”

“Oh. Sure. Thank you. A mocha, please.”

Crowley nodded, began to move away, and paused to turn back to Noah. After a moment, he held out a hand with a grunt. Noah grinned and took it as if to shake before pulling Crowley into a brief hug. The demon grunted again before scurrying off to join the other two.

“He calls you angel? That’s sweet. And it suits you.”

Aziraphale blushed slightly as he sat and smiled down into his mostly-empty mug.

“Okay. Quickly, before they get back. Tell me about your friend.”

Internally groaning, he said, “He and Crowley go way back. They traveled together, ages ago. No, they weren’t dating,” he added at the inquisitive look. “Crowley and I have always been one-person people. Yusha…is not. He, um, gathered lovers pretty much wherever he went. Several of them were willing to follow him anywhere. He had a little…collective, so to speak.”

“You know, that doesn’t shock me. None of that.” Noah grinned. “I’m guessing he still likes to play.”

“It appears so,” Aziraphale said, trying his best to hide any acerbity in the words. “I met him far later than Crowley, and at that point, he seemed to have settled into a different kind of life. Not sure what changed.”

“I won’t complain.” The trio at the counter were returning now. “My gain.”

Aziraphale hesitated for only a moment before he said, “Don’t let him break your heart. I don’t know how long he’ll stick around. Fair warning.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. Worth it for a bit of fun.”

Another grin, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but return the smile as he shook his head at the sheer absurdity of this situation. His newest friend on earth—one who had literally asked him on a date in the not-so-distant past—was going to fuck the Son of God. That was not something he’d seen coming.

Indeed, Yusha pulled up a chair for Muriel, pulling another one next to Noah for himself. Crowley slid into his seat with a raised eyebrow for Aziraphale. The angel sent a helpless look back at him and was rewarded with a quiet snort. Crowley downed the entirety of his espresso in one go, then leaned over to hold Aziraphale and lay his head on his shoulder. Noah probably would have made a comment about how cute they were, except that he was now staring directly into Yusha’s eyes as the two flirted with each other, sharing from whatever drink Yusha had bought for himself. Only Muriel seemed oblivious to the situation, staring delightedly into their mug after a first sip.

By the time the quintet—because of course, Yusha insisted Noah stay with them—finished their drinks and set off to the bookshop, the two men walked with their arms around each other, Yusha’s hand casually in Noah’s back pocket.

“Muriel suggested that he take your bedroom while he was here and that you could come to my flat for a bit,” Crowley murmured as they walked together behind Yusha and Noah. “I don’t mind you coming to my flat, but perhaps we ought to put a hard no to them fucking in our bed.”

“How long is he staying? Did Heaven get to him?”

“No idea, love. He was so intent on seeing you that we didn’t get much out of him before we joined you.”

Noah’s voice floated back to them. “Yusha—is that Turkish?”

“Arabic, actually,” Yusha said, “though the Turkish is quite similar. Good ear.”

Crowley groaned softly. “Angel, whyyyyy?”

“The real question is, are we going to be taking Jesus out for karaoke and pub trivia?”

Crowley dissolved into laughter that hadn’t quite subsided by the time they reached the bookshop. He was still grinning as Yusha looked around the seating area, hands on his hips, and sighed.

“Aziraphale, you need better furniture,” he announced. He sat on the two-seater sofa and patted the cushion next to him for Noah. Then he put a throw pillow on the ground by his feet. “This is not nearly big enough for all of us! Muriel, darling, come sit here beside me, let me play with that gorgeous hair of yours.”

Muriel obediently sat on the floor cushion, eyes turned up adoringly at him as he smiled down at them. They put their head on his knee as he began to stroke their hair. Noah was beaming at Yusha, completely smitten already. Jesus had always had a strong magnetism, a combination of charisma, fearlessness, and divine radiance that drew people inexorably toward him. There was only technically one person in the room who ought to be affected by it, though Aziraphale didn’t blame Muriel for their hero-worship. Most angels, especially at the scrivener level, couldn’t even dream of meeting the Son of God.

“Crowley? Are you alright, love?” Yusha asked, frowning as Aziraphale sat in his usual armchair, the demon perched on the arm and pressed lightly up against him.

“Wha—well—I mean,” Crowley said, exchanging a glance with Aziraphale. “Sure? It’s…well I wasn’t expecting to see you again, not so soon at least, so it’s a surprise, but sure, I’m fine?”

Yusha continued to frown. He gestured at his own eyes, miming the removal of sunglasses. “I understand out there, but you’re among friends in here, right?”

Crowley’s body had stiffened. “Ngh…”

Aziraphale put a hand on his leg protectively. Noah spoke up. “Actually, this is only the second time he and I have met. We don’t really know each other yet.” He gave Crowley a disarming smile. “I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable. It doesn’t bother me if you wear them.”

It looked as if another divine objection might be forthcoming, so Aziraphale abruptly stood and said, “Yusha—can we chat a moment? I can show you the flat, if you’re planning to stay here for a while.”

Agreeable as ever, Yusha said, “Sure!” and extricated himself from the sofa with a lot of unnecessary contact. “Be right back,” he said in a stage whisper to Noah before following Aziraphale up the spiral staircase.

As soon as they were upstairs and behind closed doors again, the angel was wrapped in another bear hug.

“You would not believe how boring Heaven got after you left! I hadn’t realized how much I missed earth. All those years watching from above dulled my memories, I suppose. You brought that all back for me. I got so restless after you were gone, and those idiot archangels kept popping in to visit, covertly, they thought.” He rolled his eyes. “And they said the most awful things—I’m sorry, darling—awful things about you, and I couldn’t stand it any longer!”

“So this is…an unauthorized trip?”

Yusha gave an actual clap of joy. “I snuck out! Made me feel like a teenager again. And I promise, I’ll tell you the details soon. Perhaps we can do brunch in the morning?”

Aziraphale thought he knew exactly where this was going, especially with the puppy-dog eyes on the Son of God’s face. He sighed. “I take it you have plans for tonight?”

“He is divine, Aziraphale! How did you find him? No, the real question is, how did you not snatch him up for yourself?” He held up a hand. “I know, I know. Crowley. You two and your millennia-long dance. I’m glad you finally got to boink him.”

Face flushing, he said, “I never thought I’d say this to the Son of God, but please, just say fuck. Don’t ever say boink again, I beg you.”

Yusha grinned. “If you insist. I plan to get thoroughly fucked tonight. It’s been far too many centuries.”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure the change in terminology made this situation any better. “Not in our bed, please.”

“Oh, come now, I know you’re no prude, darling.”

“You do remember how sensitive Crowley’s nose is? He would prefer to only smell us in that bed. I’m sure Noah will happily have you over to his place.”

“Fair point. I did forget. Demonic senses—what a crazy concept. Speaking of demonic—”

“Leave him alone about the glasses, too.” Aziraphale said this with more emphasis. This may be the Son of God, but he wasn’t going to let even Jesus bully Crowley. “He’ll remove them when he’s comfortable. It wasn’t long ago that Noah was asking me out, so there are some lingering issues there.”

Yusha tutted. “Jealousy has always been such an unproductive emotion.” When Aziraphale leveled a look at him, he sighed. “Fine, I won’t bring it up again. Wish he didn’t have to hide, though. His eyes are radiant.”

At that, the angel smiled. “They are,” he said softly.

Before he knew it, he was wrapped in another hug and literally being swung in a circle as Yusha squealed in happiness. It was infectious and silly, and Aziraphale was not immune to the goodwill that radiated from this man. When Yusha put him down, he was grinning.

“One thing before we go back downstairs. Can you at least tell me how long you plan to stay?”

Yusha cocked his head. “Until I die.” He incongruously made finger guns at Aziraphale. “Death stopped the clock on my body. Resurrection woke me back up but kept me frozen in time. Now that I’m here, I’m aging again. Just like any other human. Did you know that people think I died when I was thirty-three? How rude. I was thirty-seven! And hey—humans live a lot longer now than back in my time. I might have a good fifty-plus years left in me!”

“As long as you don’t attract the wrong kind of attention with that whole water-to-wine type of thing,” Aziraphale said dryly.

“Oh please. Those were excuses. I lived in a very close-minded era and I attracted the wrong person’s lust. That was all. They don’t crucify people for that nowadays, do they?”

“Crucify, no. Hate crimes? They still happen.”

Yusha tutted again. “Humans,” he said, as if he wasn’t one. Mostly. “Well, I’ll do my best to spread peace and cheer like I’ve always tried to do.”

That was exactly what worried Aziraphale. A suspicion niggled at him. Had the archangels been as awful as possible to entice Jesus into returning to earth? Could the Second Coming be set off without expressed permission from the Son? He sighed as Yusha bounced out of the room and moved toward the staircase.

“Oh!” Stopping suddenly, Yusha turned back and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll get my own place soon. Shouldn’t take more than a week or two. I assume you don’t mind staying with Crowley, like Muriel suggested?”

Aziraphale shook his head. The idea of staying with Crowley, no other angel in the building, no threat of Heaven popping in—well, he thought they were going to have a lot of fun. “We’re looking for a place of our own, anyway. This should give us incentive to worker harder.”

Both his shoulders were being squeezed in Yusha’s hands now, and the man was practically vibrating with excitement for him. That was one thing you could say for him—he really did love everyone and share in their happiness.

Yusha leaned forward, and for a second, Aziraphale worried he was about to get kissed. Instead, Yusha whispered in his ear. “I swear to you by my Mother’s name, I will not fuck anyone in your bed. You have my solemn vow.”

Then he was gone, jogging down the stairs to rejoin Noah below. Aziraphale was left wondering whether or not such a statement could be considered blasphemy when it came from Jesus’ own lips. He smothered a giggle and made his own slower way downstairs.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale packed a bag with a week’s worth of provisions. It wasn’t like he couldn’t return to the bookshop easily, but his core was thrumming with the idea of being alone, alone, alone with Crowley, wrapped in their own space, no need to come up for air. Yusha gave them both pecks on the lips before they left, and Aziraphale kissed Noah’s cheek.

“Be safe,” he whispered, a last warning that wouldn’t land. Noah only grinned and winked at him.

“So,” Crowley began as they got into the Bentley. “A week or two with me. In my flat. Not as cozy as yours, I’m afraid.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said. He was struggling not to bounce impatiently in his seat, wringing his hands together in his lap. “You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to everything we’re going to do in the next little while.”

Yellow eyes, blown wide, turned to him. “Oh. Oh. Um, I guess I should have invited you sooner?” One hand grasped Aziraphale’s. “Do I get to pick more numbers?”

He shook his head. “I want everything. All the numbers. As many as possible, as soon as possible.”

After a beat, Crowley said, “To warn you, I’m going to speed all the way back to my flat. Faster than I’ve ever gone with you in the Bentley.”

“Wait,” Aziraphale said, catching his hand before he could pull away and shift the car into gear. “I should probably say this before you start driving, else you’ll go off the road. Item number three. Subject to approval. Sex in the Bentley.”

“Ngk! Fuck. Okay. Okay.”

Crowley shifted and sped away from the curb. After a few minutes—his eyes closed, because this really was faster than he was comfortable with—Aziraphale said, “Is that a yes?”

There was no answer, but not long after, the Bentley swung to the curb on a side street and came to a sudden halt as the brakes were slammed. By the time Aziraphale opened his eyes, Crowley had exited, rounded to the passenger side, and wrenched open his door. It was terrifying in a thrilling way to suddenly be half-naked on the side of the road, laid back on the leather seat, his legs wrapped around Crowley’s waist as the demon shoved his cock inside him.

Without lubrication, it was a little less comfortable, a little more painful, so Aziraphale appreciated that when Crowley came, he pulled out and immediately went to work with his mouth instead. He didn’t hold back this time, finding the exact rhythm that the angel preferred, and it didn’t take long before Aziraphale came as well. This time, he swallowed every drop, and the sensation of it was new and incredible. It was for the Bentley’s benefit—no mess for the precious car—but Aziraphale was going to beg him to swallow again in the future, and he was certainly going to start up his own efforts once more.

The rest of the drive was slightly more sedate. Aziraphale waited until they’d arrived at the flat to say, “I suppose that also crossed out number seventeen. Sex in public. Wasn’t sure you’d go for that one.”

“Fuck, angel. You’re an exhibitionist, too?”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “Not in the slightest. I always preferred watching. But there’s something thrilling about the illicit nature of potentially getting caught.”

“Well,” Crowley said, swinging out of the car and grabbing the angel’s bag. “No doubling up. You can’t cross that one off yet.”

The grin on his face caused Aziraphale’s cock to twitch again. Already.

The days that followed became an exercise in exploring what they did and didn’t enjoy, given the freedom of a fully private space.

Shower sex. Check. Incredibly enjoyable, leading to multiple orgasms for them both. Also, accident-prone. Crowley miracled a shower mat and a rail into existence the first time he slipped while trying to thrust into an enthusiastic-but-thoroughly-soaked angel.

Mutual masturbation only got crossed off the list once the angel straddled the demon on that ostentatious throne and they stroked themselves in tandem. They didn’t bother to do this again. Definitely better to touch each other.

In their worst experiment, Aziraphale tried to fuck Crowley. While the latter enjoyed the finger- and tongue-work they’d played with on him, neither of them particularly liked this new experience. The enveloping caused so much sensation for the angel that it became painful instead of pleasurable, though he kept this to himself and did everything he could for Crowley. For the first time since they’d been intimate with each other, however, the demon couldn’t come and eventually asked him to withdraw.

“Gotta say, love, I prefer fucking you,” Crowley told him after the debacle. “I like the idea of you inside me more than the experience of it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Honestly, I feel the same. I prefer you inside me. We can maybe revisit in the future if either of us feels inclined to try again?”

Crowley agreed, but Aziraphale privately expected that they’d stick with what they both enjoyed.

Together, they visited a sex shop, where Crowley bought a cock ring in the hope that it would help him with his issues. Aziraphale bought both a dildo (for his upcoming trip away) and some neat little numbing spray that promised to dampen his gag reflex for a short time. It turned out that Crowley’s need for him to pull off periodically—so that he could squeeze around his head to stave off orgasm—always occurred at the perfect time for Aziraphale to reapply his spray. Together, this resulted in what Crowley definitively declared the best climax of his life, and Aziraphale finally crossed oral sex off his list, having managed to swallow properly.

They took photos of each other, and photos together. Phones and passwords really were marvelous inventions.

Crowley, who had a small list of his own, insisted that they fuck in front of a large mirror. “Look at how beautiful you are while I’m inside you,” he said as Aziraphale panted on hands and knees, fingers twisting into the blankets, nearly overwhelmed by watching the demon pound into him from behind.

The demon also requested that they buy their Rocky Horror outfits this week. Then he fucked Aziraphale while they both wore them, pushing up the angel’s skirt and pulling down his fishnets rather than removing anything completely. It was a delightful thing to learn, that Crowley got off on working around clothing more than on complete nudity.

There was plenty of complete nudity, though. Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure why he brought an entire week’s worth of clothes with him. Most of the time, they never bothered to get dressed. They were almost a week into their time alone when he put on clothes for the third time. He ventured out of the flat to a local market, kissing a half-asleep Crowley on the forehead before he left.

“Sure you don’t want me to go with you?” he asked, slurred, but Aziraphale declined.

He spent the next hour carefully choosing the best breads, fruits, cheeses, dried meats, and spreads, in addition to picking out a decent bottle of prosecco. By the time Crowley awoke from his nap, Aziraphale had laid out a charcuterie board, soaked some of the fruit in the wine, and poured a couple chilled glasses from what remained.

“What’s all this?” Crowley asked with a yawn.

Aziraphale turned shining eyes on him and handed him a tartan strip of cloth. A blindfold.

“Oh. Ohhhh. Oh.” He swallowed thickly. “You’ll need to get naked again for that.”

“Whatever for? Well, I mean, I know eventually I’ll get naked, but do you know how easy it would be to drop food onto myself while eating blindfolded? I do not need hummus stuck in my chest hair.”

Crowley looked at him like he was thick. “Angel. One, you do not want to drop hummus on your nice new clothes, do you? Would be a shame to leave stains so soon after getting them. Two, whatever you drop into your chest hair, I will lick it off you. Don’t take that from me.”

So the angel stripped, and Crowley wrapped the blindfold around his eyes and led him to a soft cushion on which to sit. Aziraphale felt alive with sensation, whether because he couldn’t see or because he was naked and couldn’t see. He could feel the demon in his space, hyperaware of every brush of breath that hit his skin, every movement of their bodies as he waited for the meal to begin.

“Alright, love. Open.”

“What are you giving me?”

“Not gonna tell. Open, taste, bite, feel. Let those senses explode.”

He said the last part close to Aziraphale’s ear, and with a shiver, the angel opened his mouth obediently. Softness, sweetness, a burst of fruit with a hint of bitterness. Crowley had started with a prosecco-soaked strawberry, and Aziraphale moaned as he rolled it around his tongue.

“Fuck, if you make those noises the entire time, we aren’t going to get through this whole plate.”

“You’re the one who told me to let my senses explode.”

They worked their way around the board. Crostini with olive oil and marinated tomatoes. Slices of fresh mozzarella. French bread with black hummus. Thin-sliced salami dotted with soft fat. No meal had ever tasted so good, paired with a demon licking crumbs from his chest (and nipples, and belly), two erections bumping into each other as Crowley swiveled to bring new tastes to his mouth, and a few bites delivered directly by tongue.

“Angel, I’m going to discorporate,” he said as Aziraphale mewled over a particularly delicious purple grape.

“Must be time for dessert then?”

“Dessert? There’s more?”

Aziraphale grinned at the distress in his voice. He reached out blind hands to find the edges of Crowley’s body, using that to guide his way down. Crowley whimpered as Aziraphale swallowed him. He didn’t bother with his spray this time. The demon was too far gone to last more than a half dozen thrusts, and it wasn’t worth the time or setup. Besides, he wanted unimpeded taste of everything—skin, sweat, and seed. He held it in his mouth after Crowley came, savoring, and was surprised by a kiss that shared in the taste.

Afterwards, he kept his blindfold on as Crowley held him.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale woke up at the crack of dawn to an unexpected text alert. He couldn’t imagine Noah would send something this early, Muriel had already been taught about appropriate texting hours, and Crowley’s arms were currently wrapped around his body. Deciding that it must be spam, he closed his eyes without looking, only to have a second text come through. He groaned to himself and reached out as gently as he could to grab his phone, trying not to wake Crowley.

‘KARAOKE TNIGHT! LETS GOOOOO!!!’ followed by ‘New outfits for u and C, be here by 4 to make sure they fit’

Aziraphale took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure which disturbed him more, that Yusha had gotten himself a phone or the outfits he had apparently chosen for them.

‘I assume this is Yusha,’ he replied.

‘Outstanding powers of deduction Zee’ and before Aziraphale had a chance to react to the nickname, ‘Gonna call you Zee in texts its easier’

He sighed. He had a feeling that was eventually going to fold over into real life as well. There was a reason Crowley had changed his name after spending those years with Jesus. He put his phone back down and rolled to snuggle closer to Crowley, who shifted to draw him in.

“Everything okay?” he asked, still mostly asleep, eyes closed.

“Just Yusha being Yusha,” Aziraphale whispered, and Crowley gave a little snort. “Go back to sleep.”

It was only once they were driving back to the bookshop that Crowley finally expressed some reservations about the evening. “I can’t believe you’re actually going through with this.”

A nervous shiver went through Aziraphale at the thought. “The karaoke? It’s on my list. I have to!”

“You don’t have to.” Crowley turned to look at him over the rim of his sunglasses, causing Aziraphale to gesticulate wildly at the road in an effort to get him to drive properly again. The demon rolled his eyes but complied. “Remember, this is meant to be about what you want to do, not what you have to do.”

The angel was quiet for a few minutes, staring at the hands folded in his lap. “I know,” he finally said. “But Crowley? I’ve been out of touch for so long. Living on the periphery. Not keeping up. And that was fine, when I was an angel, when I was here as an angel. Now, this is my world. My home. Officially. I don’t want to sit on the sidelines anymore. That’s not to say that I think karaoke is a thing I want to do regularly—I have a feeling that I’m going to hate it, to tell you the truth—but it does feel like something I ought to do at least once. To get the feel of it inside me. To know and understand.”

Crowley reached out to take his hand. His driving slowed incrementally. A concession of sorts.

After a beat, Aziraphale added, “I’m looking for my place here, I think. The spaces that accept me. Where I belong.”

The hand in his tightened. “They really treated you poorly Upstairs.”

“I meant them to. I chose this. I chose earth, and you, and my exile.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier to feel rejected and reviled.”

Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand in return. “We’ve always been misfits in our respective homes.”

“Never was my home, angel,” Crowley muttered.

The unspoken was just as loud: You were always my home. Warmth beat through Aziraphale in waves. Home, home, home.

He didn’t know what he expected to get out of tonight—out of dressing up in whatever horrendous outfit Yusha had chosen for him, of getting up on stage (hopefully with Muriel beside him) and facing an entire crowd, of singing some song he barely knew because he hadn’t kept up with music newer than a century past. There was a very strong possibility that he would be laughed off stage. He’d always been laughed at when he performed, even for a bunch of children at Warlock’s birthday party. There was something about him that came across ridiculous and mockable, and the part of him that acknowledged the humiliation of those moments was cringing in fear from the night to come.

But there was also a part of him that pushed against the certainty that he was inherently foolish. Crowley and Yusha would cheer for him, and probably Noah as well. And if he could remember that, remember his friends and perform for them, maybe he could let go and fully be himself. Be himself, rather than trying to perform as what he should be. Be himself, and discover if this world would accept him or turn him away like Heaven.

As if Crowley knew what he was thinking, he said, “You’re going to be radiant up there in the lights, you know. Glowing and happy and my favorite performer ever.”

“At least I’ll have one person clapping for me.”

“You’ll have the whole crowd wrapped around your fingers. It’ll be so intoxicating that you’ll probably drag me out for karaoke every week. I’ll have to draw a line in the sand and insist on not going more often than monthly.”

“Guess I’ll have to go with Yusha and Noah then.”

He expected Crowley to grumble and mutter that fine, he’d go with him weekly. Instead, there was a pause, and the demon only said, “I think you’d all enjoy that.”

Aziraphale smiled to himself. “I love you, you know. So much.” He knew. Of course he did. It didn’t matter—it still felt good to tell him every time.

Crowley grunted in acknowledgment, a half-smile playing on his lips, too. “Want to take bets on how awful these costumes of ours are going to be?”

They pulled up to the curb across from the bookshop. “Oh, they’ll be awful. Hideous. Completely unhinged.”

With a snort, Crowley added, “And I’m sure he’ll give us zero veto power.”

“It’s Yusha.” Aziraphale shrugged. “You can veto any of it. You’ll just feel like you kicked a puppy if you do.”

The puppy in question pulled them both into an excited hug when they entered the shop. He ushered them up to Aziraphale’s bedroom. Pointing to two piles of clothes, he said, “Dress! No complaints, Zee. You’re both going to look fab.”

Then he was gone again. Crowley laughed. “Zee?”

Aziraphale sighed. He wasn’t sure if he was more annoyed that the nickname was already in use or that his pile of clothes had cheap white feathers sticking out the bottom. At times like this, he wished he spoke Crowley’s nonverbal language.

“What. The. Fuck.”

“Worse than you expected?”

“Ngh.”

“I feel the same,” Aziraphale said, holding up a shimmery rainbow skirt. “Don’t look til we’re both dressed?”

“Ngh.”

He felt ridiculous and extremely self-conscious as he got dressed. Wide-shouldered V-neck white tank top. Rainbow skirt and matching headband. Opaque white thigh-highs. Glossy purple clogs. Purple and white feather boa. And to round out the complete absurdity, a set of tiny white angel wings that strapped around his shoulders. It all fit him—in size, at least—perfectly. No practical reason to veto any of it.

While Aziraphale was trying not to panic at the idea of Crowley seeing him, much less anyone else, the demon spoke. “This is…fuck, angel, why?”

“I think I might have a panic attack if anyone sees me in this. At least my Rocky Horror costume has some dignity. Courtesy of it having a purpose other than making me look like a fool.”

He turned. Crowley was staring down at himself in horror. He wore red leather faux-snakeskin pants, black cowboy boots, a long-sleeved fishnet shirt with only a black-and-red shoulder harness underneath, and black feathered wings to match Aziraphale’s. It was every bit as outlandish an outfit, and made the angel feel mildly better about his predicament.

“Maybe the puppy will feel less kicked if we both say no?” Crowley said hopefully.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

From downstairs, Yusha’s voice called up in singsong. “Come on, boys! Let us see how pretty you are!”

Another sigh, and then Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand and led him out of the bedroom. They slunk down the spiral staircase, a low growl in the demon’s throat the whole time. Both Muriel and Yusha applauded when they emerged on the ground floor.

“Snakeskin, Yusha?” Crowley said. “A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Might as well lean into what you’ve got, yeah? Besides, this way you can take off your glasses if you want. Tell everyone they’re contacts.”

“Ngrm. I avoid saying that. Trips people up if they see them again another time. Or if they notice my pupils dilating.”

Yusha shrugged. “Up to you. I think you look gorgeous. Both of you.” He winked at them. “And you’re perfect for the contest. Did I tell you already? Couple’s costume—I signed you up. Angel and devil. So it’s not too on the nose.”

“Please tell me we won’t be the only ones in costume,” Aziraphale said, and he couldn’t keep the distress from his voice. It was bad enough that he would be singing in front of an audience. There was only so much spotlight he could stand.

“Of course not, doll! We wouldn’t do that to you.”

Muriel got into their costume next. They dressed as a fairy, complete with gossamer wings, a shaggy pink wig, and far too much face glitter. Yusha wore booty shorts, a crop top with tuxedo ruffles, a red tailcoat, and a top hat with sequined band. He carried a staff topped with a fake jewel that lit up on impact. When Noah arrived, he was in matching leopard-print trousers and jacket, no shirt, with a cat-ear headband.

It was hard to decide which of the five of them looked the most ostentatious. (Honestly, it was Yusha. But beyond him, the rest of them were fairly well matched.) With all five of them together, the angel and devil costumes looked less preposterous. Purposeful in the same manner as the Rocky Horror outfits. Like they not only chose them deliberately, but confidently. Aziraphale still wasn’t sure he was willing to go on stage while dressed this way, but there was nothing that said he was required to participate in the karaoke part of tonight. He was sure there would be other opportunities. It definitely seemed like the sort of activity Yusha would enjoy on a regular basis.

“Ready to go?” Yusha asked, his arms encircling Noah’s waist a bit lower than was natural.

Crowley put an arm around Aziraphale, rubbing his hip gently to ask if he was okay. Aziraphale smiled up at him and nodded.

“Alright,” the demon said. “Let’s get this over with.”

Muriel led the procession out into the evening, waving their child-sized magic wand (complete with ribbons and a star on top) enthusiastically.

Chapter Text

The club was rather crowded, and Aziraphale was relieved to see that their outfits fit in perfectly with the majority of folks already there. Now, all he had to worry about was the karaoke itself, because the moment they arrived, Yusha sent Crowley and Noah off to find a place to sit while he hooked elbows with both Aziraphale and Muriel to sort their song selections.

“Any requests in particular?” Yusha asked them both.

Aziraphale tried to think of something. He hadn’t considered this well enough. He should have been looking up songs on his phone, learning tunes and lyrics, planning for when he would be on stage. Did he know any song well enough to sing it on stage? Maybe something from an old musical. Somehow, he doubted this crowd would enjoy him singing “I Could’ve Danced All Night,” and he didn’t have the charisma to pull off something like “Luck Be a Lady.”

Yusha must’ve seen the panic on his face, because he suddenly swiveled Aziraphale back the other direction and said, “We’ve got this. You go find Crowley. Give him a big hug.”

He wasn’t sure the not-knowing was better, but he obeyed.

It took a few minutes to find Crowley and Noah. They were leaning against a high table, neither of them actually sitting in the seats, both facing toward where a platform was set up for performers. As Aziraphale got closer, he heard the tail-end of something Noah was saying.

“—type, not to mention he looked like he’d be a teddy bear in bed.”

Aziraphale grinned. He hadn’t slept with Yusha, of course, but he thought the description was probably spot on. Crowley said something in reply that he couldn’t hear, and Noah’s answer was patchy as well.

“As—forty now—looking for something more serious—”

Heart sinking, Aziraphale tried to push through the throng (without being too rude about it) to get closer and join the conversation. He’d warned Noah.

“—seemed nicely settled, and you can’t deny—” Noah grinned at Crowley, and seeing him in profile made the words easier to distinguish. “—those vintage clothes were yummy.”

Oh! They were talking about him. This was…possibly not good. Aziraphale forgot about being polite and cut his way through the thoroughfare he seemed to have found himself stuck behind. “Found you!” he called, louder than necessary, to attract their attention.

Crowley turned with a smile, leaning back on his elbows. “We were just chatting about you.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Should I be concerned?”

“Nah,” Crowley said as Noah laughed. Aziraphale rounded the table, and Crowley took him into his arms. “Got your song picked out already?”

He shook his head. “Yusha sent me back, said he and Muriel would take care of it.”

Raising an eyebrow, Crowley said, “Sure you want to do this, angel?”

“I do rather wish I’d had more time to plan. And practice.”

“That’s the anxiety talking,” Noah said. “You’re not supposed to be good at karaoke. You’re supposed to get up there and make a fool of yourself.”

The declaration didn’t help. “Why does anyone consider this fun? Everyone is going to laugh at me. This is awful.”

Crowley stroked his hair and shook his head at Noah, who looked like he might respond. “No. Listen. This is what you’re going to do. You won’t be the first person up there—Yusha wouldn’t do that to you—so you’re going to watch. You’ll see how silly everyone acts up there. You’ll see how often people miss the words, or miss their cues, sing in the wrong place, that sort of thing. Keep watch on the crowd and the way they participate. This isn’t a talent show—it’s a bit of fun that involves you going up there to be ridiculous while everyone else cheers for you no matter how badly you do.”

“I don’t know how to be silly on purpose.”

“Sure you do, love.” Crowley pulled him closer, close enough that Aziraphale could see through his glasses even in the dark light of the club. “You do it all the time with me, with Muriel. With people you’re comfortable around. You’re just not used to letting go publicly. Here’s my advice. I know you can’t pretend that the rest of them aren’t there, but find me in the crowd, perform for me. Make me laugh. Sing badly on purpose. Flub the words. Keep an eye on Muriel and follow their lead in the dancing. Play with them, try to channel their enthusiasm if you can. And if you can’t, don’t worry about it. Close your eyes if you need to. Spin around and wiggle your arse in that skirt, so you don’t have to face the crowd. They’ll love that. And let me buy you a drink or two before you go up, so you’re a bit more relaxed to start with.”

They stared intensely at each other, and Aziraphale said, “Did you bring an extra pair of sunglasses?”

It would’ve been easy enough to miracle a new pair into existence, but Crowley put his hand up to his face. He turned to Noah. “Don’t freak out. They’re not contacts. They’re just weird.”

Then he took off his glasses, staring at Noah with a raised eyebrow for a moment (Aziraphale heard a soft, “Oh, um…” from beside him), and then turning back to the angel. “Take mine. Wear them if you want, then no one can see if your eyes are closed or locked on mine. But you won’t need them, love. You’re going to be brilliant, as long as you can remember that you’re not actually meant to be good at this and let go. Be you. They will love you.”

Yusha and Muriel joined them not long after. Yusha broke into a grin at the sight of Crowley’s eyes but didn’t comment. “Zee, you and Muriel will be tenth up tonight. We chose ‘Sweet Caroline.’ Crowd fave, can’t get any easier than that, yeah?”

Aziraphale felt a little relief. He didn’t know the song well, but it was popular enough that he knew what it sounded like. That was better than he’d expected.

“What about you?” Noah asked, snuggling into Yusha’s arms.

“It’s a surprise! I’m toward the end. You’re gonna love it.”

If left to his own devices, Aziraphale would have stayed completely sober. He didn’t trust his intoxicated self on stage. But he trusted Crowley, who ordered two large sherries for him (as well as insisting that he drink a few gulps of his far-more-alcoholic whisky). By the time Muriel was tugging his sleeve, he was well past tipsy. Inebriated enough, in fact, that he forgot to bring Crowley’s sunglasses with him and only remembered once he was mounting the stairs onto the platform.

The makeshift stage lights were burning hot, or perhaps that was only his anxiety again. He looked to Muriel as the first notes began, the crowd cheering upon recognizing the song. Muriel grinned at him and launched into a little dance, bringing the mic up to sing. “Where it began, I can't begin to knowing!”

The part of Aziraphale’s brain that wouldn’t shut off wondered if those could possibly be the right lyrics. They made no sense, grammatically. As the next line came up on the screen in front of them, he looked desperately out into the crowd. The moment he saw Crowley’s yellow eyes and wide smile, something inside him stilled. He joined in on the third line, as if that had been the plan all along, turning slightly to Muriel to sing to them.

By the time they reached the chorus, he was belting out the words along with the crowd, gigging to himself, turning around and making his skirt sway for Crowley. This was nonsense, the whole thing was utter nonsense, and Crowley had been right. No one cared that he missed words and sang the wrong notes, or that he was stumbling around inebriated as he sang, or that he and Muriel were laughing so hard at themselves when they messed up that they could barely make it through the whole song.

Only once during the performance did Aziraphale slip back into his more reserved self. He caught the eye of someone in the pub that reminded him, for a split second, of Uriel. It wasn’t Uriel, of course, but the jolt of anxiety that went through him almost made him miss that Muriel was hip-bumping with him on the beat. His mind spun, imagining what Heaven would make of him up here, singing like this, dressed like this, the utter opposite of the dignity that they put so much emphasis on.

The humiliation was gone in a second, swallowed up by Muriel’s bright smile. This was an angel, too. Another angel, ridiculous and happy and unselfconscious, completely undignified and loving every second of it. It was as if the last tether tying Aziraphale to Heaven broke at that moment. He spun as the last chorus came to an end and pumped his mic into the air. There were cheers and one long whistle that he recognized as Crowley’s as he and Muriel grinned and gave each other a side hug before they left the stage.

No, Aziraphale was never going to do this again, but oh, he was so happy to have done it once.

As he made his way back to their table, a few hands patted his back and shoulders, and someone—he didn’t see who—swatted his arse. He fell into Crowley’s arms a bit drunkenly and let himself be swept into a long kiss. The demon’s hands squeezed his buttocks under the skirt, and Aziraphale didn’t complain. The adrenaline and alcohol were both hitting him hard at this point, and he forgot they were in a club until Yusha smacked his shoulder and said, “Oy, you two, no sex in public, got it?”

They broke the kiss and stared at each other with grins that were both guilty and amused, and Aziraphale knew they were both thinking of the Bentley a week ago. He pulled back and hopped up onto his tall chair, grabbing the edge of the table to steady himself.

“Great job up there,” Noah said with a grin. “Knew you had it in you.”

“Can I get you another drink, Zee?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “I’ll take food if you’re buying, but I’m already too drunk. Whisky goes straight to my head.”

“S’what it’s s’posed to do,” Crowley said. He was seated, too, but had one leg slung over Aziraphale’s and was holding him around the waist, his chair tipped precariously sideways.

“You didn’t put your glasses back on?” he whispered as he lay his head on Crowley’s shoulder.

“Nah. Told you to look for my eyes, didn’t I?” He shrugged. “B’sides, if you can be brave, so can I.”

“They were my lifeline up there. So beautiful.”

“Ngh. You’re the beautiful one.” Crowley tilted Aziraphale’s head up to speak into his ear. “Is it wrong that I want to pull you into the bathroom, lock the door, and suck you off with my head under your skirt?”

Struggling to make the words even, he said, “I should tell you how dirty public bathrooms are but all I can think right now is how hot that sounds.”

Yusha was shooting them looks that said he knew exactly what they were discussing—in general, if not the specifics. Rolling his eyes, he said, “You two need to check in for the costume contest. Why don’t you do that now? Try to get back by the time your food and drinks arrive, yeah?”

They didn’t hesitate, and soon, sex in public was crossed off Aziraphale’s bucket list.

Aziraphale was almost completely sober and far more relaxed by the time Yusha was set to go up on stage. He still hadn’t revealed what he would be performing, though he gave them the hint that he’d chosen his outfit deliberately. It should not have surprised any of them when the first notes of “The Greatest Show” came over the speakers.

“Of course,” Noah said, laughing and clapping.

As Yusha sang the first line, it became clear very quickly how nice his voice was, deep and rich, perfectly pitched and right on key. Like in the original song, he let his volume build over time, infusing the words with intensity in the right spots. He thumped his light-up staff on the ground in time with the music, danced with arms in the air during the ensemble parts of the song, got the crowd clapping in time with him. When he reached the bridge, Aziraphale could have sworn that every person in that club believed he was singing directly to them.

“It’s everything you ever want. It’s everything you ever need.” Yusha gestured sinuously up his body. “And it’s here right in front of you.”

There was something of magic in it, an innuendo that was the opposite of sexual, despite what it seemed on the surface. The room rang with it, squirming into every human heart, unnatural but undeniable. Crowley looked to Aziraphale with a raised eyebrow, then nodded his chin in Noah’s direction. He turned to find Noah staring with jaw slightly open, his expression puzzled.

“This is where you wanna be!”

Yusha held the last note, arms splayed wide, head lolled back, and Aziraphale was struck by an odd sense of déjà vu. He looked…crucified. “Oh. Fuck.”

Crowley growled lightly in his ear in agreement. Noah looked over at them with that same puzzled expression, his eyes roaming over their costumes, over Crowley’s eyes, and then back to Yusha, who had finally unfrozen and gone back into his dance routine. Time seemed to move again, the walls no longer echoing with whatever divine power had radiated out from those words. Noah nodded as if he understood. Aziraphale held his breath.

“It would be a really bad idea to fall in love with him, wouldn’t it?” Noah said.

“I did try to warn you. I’m sorry.”

Another nod. “He isn’t built to love that way. Not one person. He’s…too big for that.”

Aziraphale reached out and took Noah’s hand. “He was built to love many.”

Noah let himself be pulled to Aziraphale’s side, where both an angel and a demon put a hand on his back. They had to be cautious. Noah was on the edge of seeing all their secrets, if he didn’t pull back in time. This wasn’t a precipice they liked humans to see. It messed with their minds.

“I think I’m a fool,” Noah said, smiling down at his hands, one still clasped in Aziraphale’s. “I didn’t need it to be only me. But if I went home right now, he could cut his losses and have his pick of just about anyone here. I don’t like feeling so easily replaceable.”

“It’s not like that,” Aziraphale said firmly. “Sure, if you left, there would be plenty of folks here who might try to flirt with him. No one can deny that he has a magnetism. He wouldn’t go home with any of them, though, because he would be hurt, and too upset about hurting you as well. He may love broadly, Noah, but that doesn’t mean his love is any less for spreading it around. I assume he told you up front what he was looking for?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t change how you feel,” he said at Noah’s chagrined grimace. “And maybe you want different things, but Yusha isn’t indifferent or cold or heartless. He does care, and he doesn’t want to hurt you or anyone else.”

“It can be difficult for him to find those who accept him as he is,” Crowley added. “He’s suffered a lot. Not going to tell you not to leave if that’s what you need to do, but I am going to suggest that since he was open with you, it’s the decent thing to do to be open in return.”

The song was well over by now, Yusha making his slow way back to their table as various patrons waylaid him. He looked up, caught Noah’s eye, and his whole face lit up with joy. Beside Aziraphale, Noah relaxed.

“You’re right. I think maybe it’s time for me to stop drinking for the night. I’m getting too in my head. For a moment, I had this really strange thought…”

He didn’t continue, moving out of their embrace to greet Yusha and congratulate him on his performance. Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other, communicating wordlessly. Both hoped that when he was sober tomorrow, Noah would put aside whatever strange thought he’d had, or better yet, not remember the thought at all.

Chapter Text

Three days later, Aziraphale was on a train bound for Brighton, a somber and clingy Yusha in tow. Noah had not followed his strange thought any further, but something about that night had stuck with him. He’d texted the next day: ‘Decided to end things with Yusha before I got in too deep’

Aziraphale cautiously returned, ‘Are you doing okay?’

‘Not rly. Its for the best though, we want diff things, wld hurt worse if we waited longer’

‘I understand. Is there anything I can do?’

It took Noah a few tries to reply, dots popping up and disappearing. Finally, he sent, ‘I know he was your friend longer so I understand if you don’t want to continue w/me now. But if that’s not the case, it would be nice to have someone to talk to. Maybe a hug’

Aziraphale already had his week in Brighton planned and booked, so he didn’t have a lot of available time. He managed to persuade Crowley to lend him the keys to the Bentley again. Noah didn’t technically have a work break, but he saw the angel as he entered the store and pulled him aside for a brief hug.

“Let’s have coffee once I’m back from Brighton,” Aziraphale said. “I’m sorry I don’t have time before then. Text as often as you need. I’m not one to break off friendships so easily, not unless there’s deliberate cruelty involved and I know that’s not the case with you.”

“Thank you.” Noah gave him a watery smile. “But go on now. I can’t cry at work and you’re going to make me cry if you stay.”

Yusha had spent the intervening days at the bookshop alternately manic and morose. Muriel texted to say that he had taken to sleeping in their bed, holding onto them for comfort. Together with Crowley, Aziraphale decided it might be best to bring Yusha along to Brighton.

“Change of scenery always seemed to help him,” Crowley said.

Which is how the angel found himself in Yusha’s embrace as he traveled for his surprise bucket list item that he’d originally planned to do alone.

“This is really sweet,” Yusha said when he’d revealed his plans. “You and Crowley are my idols.”

Aziraphale was struck with the absurdity of this statement coming from the mouth of the Son of God. “Don’t be silly.”

“I’m serious. How long have you loved each other? I wish I had something like that. Wish I was capable of it.”

“You are. And so much more. Tell me—have you ever stopped loving any of them? Peter or John or Magda, or even Judas despite what he did?”

Yusha shook his head, his corona of hair tickling Aziraphale’s chin.

“I love one that way. You love many. It doesn’t make your love any less. Given that She built you this way, I’d say most people could stand to be a bit more like you.”

After a time, Yusha said, “Do you already have the design?”

Aziraphale nodded and pulled out his phone to show him the nebula tattoo that he would be getting on his hip later that day.

“Oh that’s gorgeous. He’s going to love it. Why are you making him wait a week, though?”

“I’m doing this the human way. No miracles. No accelerated healing. A week won’t fully heal it, of course, but it should be enough to ease up on some of the soreness and such. I didn’t want to come home and show him a covered tattoo with leaking plasma, or bright red from inflammation. He’d be too tempted to help me. Better to wait until it’s healed enough for viewing properly.”

Yusha grinned up at him. The tattoos on his forearms shifted slightly in a ripple that was clearly magical. “I prefer the non-painful method.”

They went to the tattoo shop together. Yusha held Aziraphale’s hand and kept him distracted through the pain of the needle. He wasn’t sure if it was more or less painful than he’d anticipated—probably both, depending on the stroke. Afterwards, he felt bruised rather than cut, a curious sensation he hadn’t anticipated. His new nebula was covered by second skin, and he memorized the aftercare instructions for once the skin came off.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said to Yusha as they checked into the bed and breakfast he’d booked for the week. “I didn’t realize I was going to have company, so I only booked the single room.”

“That’s alright, Zee. I’m sure I can find a cozy chair or patch of floor.”

Yusha grinned at him, and Aziraphale rolled his eyes. The Son of God had always been a cuddler, and there was no doubt he would be sharing the bed this week. “Just be careful not to hit my hip,” he said.

“I’ll be the epitome of gentleness, darling.”

Aziraphale held him for the next two days. Sometimes they watched junk tv (though the angel insisted that there would be no snacks in bed!). Sometimes they chatted with Crowley over facetime. Sometimes Yusha broke into sobs and buried his face in Aziraphale’s chest.

“I know a week isn’t long enough to really love someone,” he started once.

Cutting him off, Aziraphale said, “Don’t let’s pretend. I know you and I know who you are. That’s plenty of time for you. You love him. It’s as simple as that. You love him, and this hurts.”

“I wish I could give him what he needs.”

“I know, dear. I know.”

On the third morning, Aziraphale woke to find the other half of his bed empty. Yusha had left a note explaining that he felt called. He was needed somewhere—he didn’t reveal where—and he couldn’t let his broken heart keep him from his duty to humanity. One day, he would come and visit again.

“He left his phone behind,” he told Crowley when they spoke that afternoon.

“Right, because what the world needs is to have Jesus running around doing good unsupervised again. I thought the whole point of befriending him was to avoid the Second Coming?”

“Well, I didn’t ask him to return to earth.” He sighed. “I guess we’ll have to see what happens. Maybe Heaven will check in on Muriel at some point and we’ll learn something more. I really expected them to do so before now.”

For a moment, a look crossed Crowley’s face that Aziraphale couldn’t read, immediately hidden behind his normal expression. It was so quick that he wasn’t even sure he’d seen it properly, especially given that he didn’t have the best reception at the b&b.

“Everything okay back in London?” he ventured.

“Too quiet. I miss you.”

Several days of caring for Yusha in a whole variety of moods had kept Aziraphale from thinking too hard about this separation. He felt ridiculous for the homesickness. It had been three days. Still. “I miss you, too.”

There was a beat of silence, and that same look came over Crowley’s face again. This time, it definitely wasn’t in his imagination.

“What is it?”

After a moment of hesitation, Crowley said, “Muriel texted at the crack of dawn this morning to tell me not to come to the shop today. Apparently they were preparing for visitors.” He paused again, then said, “A couple hours later, they asked what day you were getting back. I didn’t get the impression they were asking for themself.”

Aziraphale hoped that Heaven didn’t think he had anything to do with Yusha coming to earth, or with him fleeing so suddenly. Of course, the archangels never believed a word he said—not when he was being truthful, at least. There was irony in that. However, he couldn’t afford for them to decide he’d broken his promise not to interfere, not now that he knew what it was like to truly be with Crowley. It would help if he had any idea of their plans. It was hard to keep a promise not to interfere when he didn’t know what he wasn’t meant to interfere with!

“I’ll be with you when you get back, love. You won’t have to face them alone.”

“No,” he said, thinking over the possibilities. “I’d rather you be at the bookshop. They won’t be able to set anything up while you’re there. They’ll complain and try to get you to leave, of course, but that’s your home as much as it’s mine. If they push too hard, you can remind them that I’m traveling to you, not to my shop. If you leave for your flat, I’ll go there, then they’ll have to come to me. In a former property of Hell’s.”

“Current,” Crowley corrected. “Hell simply doesn’t have use for it right now.”

“We really need to find our own place.”

With a grin, Crowley said, “I might have a lead on that. No more for now, though.” He pretended to button up his lips. “It’ll be a surprise for you when you get home, if I can wrangle it.”

Aziraphale pouted. “You know I’m not a fan of surprises.”

“Says the angel who is literally off on a surprise-based trip at the moment.”

“Surprise for you, not for me!”

Crowley put one arm behind his head, fanning his hair out on the pillow. It was distracting, as Aziraphale was sure it was meant to be. Why was he always lying in bed when they spoke this way? He shook his head to try to focus, and Crowley grinned at him. “You have to learn to trust me, angel. Besides, I need something to do here to distract me from all this quiet.”

A coil of tension tightened between them, and Aziraphale’s cock stirred. They’d given up the idea of phone sex when they decided to invite Yusha on this trip. It was probably an absolutely inappropriate time to have this thought, what with Yusha’s disappearance and Heaven’s reappearance, but watching Crowley grin slowly with all that hair spread out on his pillow…it was positively impossible not to give in to the temptation. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“Please tell me that was a proposition, love. I beg you.”

“I believe you’re the one propositioning me, lying in bed like that, acting all seductive.”

Crowley laughed softly. “Nah. Mine is an invitation, not a proposition. There’s a difference.”

Aziraphale didn’t know why he was feeling shy. Maybe it was only because he was in the room’s armchair. Moving to the bed and slipping under the covers, he said, “This was easier the first time. I was already…keyed up.”

“You never did tell me what was going on in that head of yours that night.” Crowley stretched, body twisting with obvious arousal. “I was acting like a desperate fool, trying to get your attention, and you suddenly responded with that photo. At the time, I told myself there was no way, you had no idea what you looked like, it wasn’t meant for me to misinterpret like that. But later, I realized you probably meant exactly what you sent.”

“Sort of? I mean, you were in bed in the photo you’d sent me. I thought I’d send you the same back, to say I saw you. To offer more. But no, it wasn’t until you commented on it that I realized how wrecked I looked.” He could barely meet Crowley’s eyes as the demon grinned. “It was a bit mortifying. And exciting.”

“I was having trouble believing what was in front of me that night.”

“Yes, well, you spent our month apart sleeping. I spent it up in Heaven with the memory of your lips on mine to keep me company constantly. You say you were desperate? I was dying.”

Crowley’s arm had disappeared under his blanket now. “Were you thinking of me that night?”

“I never let myself think of you when I, um, when I touched myself. It felt wrong.”

He had been right. Crowley laughed at that, but it was a fond laugh, and a little of Aziraphale’s nervousness fell away.

“I found other ways. Scenes from books with redhaired love interests. Actors with similar accents or clothes. Close enough that I could pretend without feeling like I was violating you. Ohhh, there was one man I used to see at the baths in Rome, he was about as close a doppelganger as I’ve ever seen, and oh how I used to watch him. I’m afraid he thought I’d developed a crush on him. Tried to get me into his bed, and I admit, I was just a little bit tempted. I thought if I closed my eyes, I could pretend long enough…”

Aziraphale shook himself from the memory to find Crowley’s eyes wide and yellow, his mouth agape, breath coming rapidly. He was about to ask if the demon was alright when Crowley said, “All the way back then?”

He shrugged. “The desire part, sure. And the love. Not the in-love yet. I told you, that was more gradual.” A thought struck him. “I never acted on those little temptations. You were my first. I mean, that was probably obvious, given my complete lack of skill…”

“Angel, if you dare insult our first few times together, I will miracle myself to wherever you’re staying and thump you on the head, got it?” Aziraphale laughed, and Crowley nodded decisively. “Now. We’re off track. You were telling me what got you all hot and bothered before we talked that night.”

So Aziraphale told him about his research for the bucket list, about the video he found, filling in the details from his imagination until Crowley was panting and whimpering again. “I had to finish quickly because you were threatening to call the bookshop. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it should have been. Your photo in bed got me going all over again.”

“Fucking Christ,” Crowley groaned.

“Perhaps not the best choice of words, dear, given the way I’ve spent the last three days.”

Crowley gave an approximation of a laugh that quickly turned into another groan. They were both stripped to bare skin now, and Aziraphale used a miracle to hide the tattoo on his hip as he slid his blankets downwards. Crowley had his phone propped up so that he could use his hands, though he avoided touching himself for longer than a few strokes, concentrating instead on his neck, his nipples, his inner thighs.

“Then you sent me that, oh fuck, that photo with your eyes showing.” Sensation was washing through Aziraphale in waves now, bursting in time with his strokes. “I thought I might come just looking at it. I mean, I suppose I did—”

“You what?” Crowley’s cock twitched and he reached up to squeeze around the head, holding himself back. “I thought you said, before, you said, you never thought of me when, oh god Aziraphale I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last.”

Feeling rather close to the edge himself, Aziraphale panted, “After…we got off…the call that night. You said…you said…glad I liked the photo…and fuck that was enough permission for me. I stared at it the whole time. Better than any video.”

“Angel, I’m going—I’m going to—”

“Yes, love, come for me, let me see you,” Aziraphale begged. He watched Crowley’s hands fly into a frenzy, and the low moan that dragged from his lips as hot ropes of white splashed across his belly tipped the angel over into his own orgasm.

Eventually, they both caught their breath, and Crowley said, “I wish I was there with you.”

“Four more days, love. Then I’ll be home.”

“We’re doing this every day until then.”

Aziraphale beamed at him. “Yes, I rather think we are. Maybe next time, I can tell you all about the things I used to watch that man do in Rome, and all the ways I pretended he was you…”

Chapter Text

The archangels didn’t leave the bookshop. Crowley had sauntered over to check in on Muriel the day after they’d come only to find Michael, Sandalphon, and Uriel still there. They tried to prevent him from entering, then from staying, but he’d swaggered around and warned them about Aziraphale’s priorities. Eventually, they’d relented.

“Couldn’t really check if Muriel was alright, m’afraid,” he told Aziraphale that evening, calling from their bookshop bedroom. “Thought it wouldn’t go over well if I treated them like a friend.”

“You don’t have to stay overnight,” Aziraphale said. He didn’t like the thought of Crowley sleeping in their bed, unconscious and vulnerable while three of the nastiest angels from Heaven plotted against him on the floor below.

“It’ll be fine, love. Magic lock on the door, and I’ve been known to sleep with one eye open.”

Aziraphale’s lips scrunched up. Crowley wasn’t meant to have to worry about danger any longer. “I’d feel better knowing you were completely safe.”

“Same, angel, and I can’t know that if I don’t stay close to the enemy.”

He wasn’t going to win this argument. With a sigh, he said, “Maybe I ought to return a day early.”

“Won’t complain about that,” Crowley said with a grin.

Aziraphale nodded to himself. “Don’t tell them about the change in plans.”

Crowley was in almost constant contact by text, even more than usual, reassuring Aziraphale that all was well. Mostly he stayed sprawled on the sofa downstairs, sending the most ridiculous memes he could find, or relating anecdotes from the shop. It was a good thing there were rarely customers. It meant that few folks were subjected to Sandalphon asking them if they were in the market for pornography. Crowley had barely kept a straight face the first time, as the archangel proudly explained that this was a human custom and both Michael and Uriel snapped that of course they already knew that.

‘Muriel didn’t correct them all?’

‘poor angel rarely opens their mouth’

It was that thought, as much as his worry for Crowley, that decided Aziraphale. On the fifth morning at the b&b, he began to work free the second skin over his tattoo. It hurt, causing a tender, bruised sensation on an area still in the early days of healing. A small miracle and the second skin sloughed away painlessly. He reasoned that since it wasn’t on the tattoo itself, the miracle didn’t break his decision to “do this the human way.”

Once he washed and moisturized the tattoo, Aziraphale made (instantaneous) arrangements to check out of the b&b early and change his train ticket to today. A few hours later, he was on his way back to London when he got a text from Crowley.

‘heads up you might hear a weird story from noah’

‘Oh? What did you do?’

His phone buzzed with an incoming call. He hesitated. He hadn’t told Crowley of his impending arrival, unsure if the archangels would be able to detect a change in his behavior once he knew. However, it wouldn’t do for the demon to step away from the shop at the wrong time, either. He swiped to answer.

“What makes you think—” Crowley began, cutting off and squinting at the camera. “Are you on a train?”

He was in their bedroom, so at least the question shouldn’t give anything away. “I decided to come home early,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley grinned. “Don’t know if I’m annoyed with you for not telling me—and for accusing me of doing something to Noah—or ecstatic that you missed me so much that you gave up two days of your vacation.”

“Tell me about Noah, then I’ll tell you if I’m annoyed or ecstatic. You can decide accordingly.”

With a laugh—he already sounded on the happier end of the spectrum—Crowley told him that Noah showed up at the shop earlier in the day. “Pretty sure he was hoping to see Yusha, but he brought a package for you. From his store. He said he knew you weren’t due back for a few days but this had come in, and they still have your measurements in their system, so he brought it as a thank you.”

“That’s very kind of him,” Aziraphale said, wondering how that story qualified as weird. Maybe it had to do with the gift itself? “What is it?”

“Dunno,” Crowley said with a shrug. “Didn’t figure you’d want me to open it for you. I left it on your dresser.”

Brow furrowing, he asked, “Why warn me? Did he say something I should know about?”

“No, no, that’s the other part of the story, the part with the Michael, Sandalphon, and Uriel…or—” He was giggling now. “—as they shall now forever be known: Michael, Sandy, and Ariel.”

Crowley had a difficult time relating the entire tale. He broke off, helpless to laughter, several times as he recounted how Noah had entered the shop, saved himself from a question about pornography by greeting Muriel as a friend, and was then introduced to “Muriel’s parents.”

“I know the Metatron called them ‘dim,’ but that angel is quick on the uptake. They whipped out ‘Sandy’ like they’d already had it planned, and only barely hesitated before they introduced Uriel as ‘Ariel.’ Of course, Noah had no idea who was who. He assumed that Sandalphon was Michael and Michael was Sandy, and they apparently didn’t feel comfortable correcting the human so they both just gritted their teeth and grimaced at him. Sandalphon’s regular smiles are scary enough…”

“Well,” Aziraphale said, feeling rather giggly himself. “Is Noah okay?”

“He didn’t get turned into a pillar of salt, if that’s what you’re asking. And he told me to have you text him after Muriel’s parents were gone. He claimed that he didn’t want to distract anyone from family time, but he wasn’t fooling anyone.”

“Right. So Muriel has three parents, unknown relationship between them, none of whom is particularly friendly. Got it. Anything else I should know?”

Crowley shook his head. “How close are you?”

“About halfway. I’ll get a cab after I reach the station. Should be home in the next hour, dear. Will you stay in the main shop to wait for me? Or will that give away that plans have changed?”

Scoffing, Crowley said, “I have the best poker face. They won’t know a thing.”

“Good. Because the plan is to enter the shop, catch them off-guard, and completely ignore them as I wrap you up and kiss you.”

“I like that plan.”

“Promise not to touch my left hip.” When the demon’s eyebrow shot up, he added, “I’ll explain once I deal with the archangels. Trust me for now. Promise me.”

He did so, and they ended the call so that Crowley could get situated. They texted a few more times, until Aziraphale got off the train and miracled himself to the front of the queue for a cab. He let Crowley know that he would be there soon, depending on traffic—he didn’t dare mess with lights, pedestrians, and the number of cars on the road the way the demon always did. His knee bounced impatiently as minutes ticked by. Sure, his plan to kiss Crowley first was primarily a means to show the archangel trio that he meant more to Aziraphale than Heaven, but it didn’t hurt to admit the truth. After five days apart—the longest they’d been apart since his return from Heaven—he was aching to be warm and safe in those familiar arms.

Crowley did have the best poker face. Aziraphale didn’t have to do any acting. The second he walked through the bookshop doors, the demon jumped to his feet as if surprised. “Aziraphale!”

The angel rushed toward him, pushing roughly through the gap between Michael and Sandalphon and getting affronted exclamations in return. Then their lips were together, tongues hot as they slid against each other, and Crowley’s arms encircled Aziraphale’s waist, carefully avoiding the hip he’d promised not to touch. One hand came up to rest in the spot that would be between the angel’s wings had they been visible in this realm. An act of tenderness and protection at once.

Crowley tried to turn them so that his own back would be to the archangels, but Aziraphale planted his feet, knowing they would be less likely to strike him. Despite their animosity, he was still an angel, and an angel was more precious than a demon to the creatures of Heaven.

A throat cleared behind Aziraphale. He ignored that, and ignored the, “For Heaven’s sake,” that followed. One of his hands was in Crowley’s hair, one on his cheek. Perhaps they would not have stayed together like this so long on their reunion if it had only been Muriel in the room, but there was pleasure in making the archangels uncomfortable. In driving home the point that this relationship, this love, was of utmost importance.

“Or maybe you’d like us to come back later?” Michael said, thick with sarcasm.

Aziraphale broke from Crowley’s mouth only enough to turn his head and look over his shoulder. His lips were swollen and wet and flushed, a string of saliva connecting him to Crowley. It was gratifying to see Uriel flinch at the sight. “That’s a fine idea,” he said, and before the words were even out of his mouth, he was connecting with Crowley again, deeper, lust stirring in spite of the circumstances.

But the demon was still attentive, eyes hidden behind dark glasses, and a second later, he knocked Aziraphale off-balance spinning him to the side. He held out one arm, as far from the angel as he could reach, and let a palmful of fire come to life there. Sandalphon, who had charged forward as if to wrench the two of them apart, flinched backwards.

“You will not hurt my angel,” Crowley growled. He let go of the hellfire after a moment, stepped behind Aziraphale, and wrapped his arms around his front.

Though he felt like he might literally glow from happiness, Aziraphale managed to school his expression into an approximation of annoyance. “What do you want? Spit it out, so my demon can take me upstairs and fuck me.”

In his peripheral vision, he noticed that Muriel put a hand to their mouth to cover a smile.

“Disgusting,” Uriel spat. “You are so thoroughly corrupted.”

“I am,” Aziraphale said, nuzzling into Crowley’s neck. “Full of all the sins of the flesh. Delicious sins, mmmm. Funny, She doesn’t seem to care. I haven’t Fallen, anyway. Now I ask you again, what do you want from me, or should we give Sandy the sort of pornographic show he’s so obsessed with?”

Sandalphon sputtered indignantly. Muriel had both hands on their mouth now, trying to hold in a laugh. Michael squinted at Aziraphale, hands on hips, and said, “Where are you hiding him?”

“Him who, dear?” he asked, even though he knew exactly what they meant.

“Our Lord and Redeemer, Jesus Christ! You’ve kidnapped him, hidden him away—”

“Oh, Yusha? That’s what he’s going by down here these days. It’s a form of Joshua, did you know that? Well, you probably did. You’re angels, of course.” Aziraphale gave them his best simpering smile. “He told me that he snuck out. Naughty deity, yes? Spent a week with us, had a little tryst with our friend Noah—I hear you got to meet him? Nice man. Anyway, Yusha went down to Brighton with me this week, but you know how he is. He got called and flitted off, no idea where to. He left me a note, and that was the last I heard from him.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t—”

“—believe me? Yes, I know, you never do.” Aziraphale sighed. “Doesn’t matter if you do or not. He’s not hiding in my back pocket. Here.”

He pulled Yusha’s phone from said pocket and tossed it toward the archangels. Uriel fumbled it and it hit the ground with a loud crack. Aziraphale winced.

“Hopefully that’s still usable. That’s his. He left it behind with the note. Don’t know if you’ll be able to get any information off of it—he only had it a week—and I advise you to avoid his messages with Noah. Or you can let Sandalphon read them. He’ll get all the pornography he likes that way.”

Crowley growled lightly in his ear. A warning. Sandalphon looked as if he were about to launch a holy attack.

“If there’s nothing more—?”

Uriel drew herself up. “Aziraphale, former angel of the eastern gate, you are in breach of the promise you made to Heaven when—”

“I’m actually not, dear. You see, when Yusha arrived, I had no idea if there was some plan in play. I was as surprised as anyone to see him, and I certainly hadn’t asked him to come. So I did nothing. I did not hide him, nor did I ask him to flee. I offered him shelter—in a holy embassy, no less—but one would assume that sheltering a friend is an appropriate action regardless of why he was here. Tell me, if you please, how exactly you claim that I broke my promise of noninterference?”

The archangels all looked at each other, the moment tense, and Aziraphale saw the instant it broke. Michael spun to Muriel and barked, “Is this true?”

Muriel, thankfully, had their face neutral by then. “As far as I’m aware, yes. He wasn’t around much the week that Yu—Jesus was here.”

“Fine,” Michael said. They gestured to the broken phone in Uriel’s hand. “We’ll have to see what we can extract from this bit of glass, and then perhaps it’ll be time to have a word with you, scrivener. You should have reported to us the moment Jesus arrived on earth. It was a dereliction of duty to—”

“Ambassador,” Muriel interrupted, back straight and stiff. “I am no longer a scrivener, sir. As ambassador, I have no access to or knowledge of Heaven’s plans. I would have no way of knowing if Jesus was here at your bidding or otherwise unless you inform me, and it seems to me that it would be unwise to make assumptions. However, if you would like me to call Upstairs every time I spot something that may or may not be related to a plan—”

“Ah, no,” Uriel hastily said. “You’re right. That would be a waste of resources. For now, please simply contact us if you see our Lord Savior again, or if you believe you know where he is hiding.”

Muriel nodded crisply, and with a few notes of celestial trumpets, the three archangels disappeared. Aziraphale let out a long breath. Muriel turned to him.

“Go on.” They nodded their chin upwards. “Go get it out of your system. And next time, try not to make me laugh while I’m dealing with archangels!”

“Sorry!” Crowley said, Aziraphale already pulling him up the stairs.

Chapter Text

They kissed and kissed, pressed up against the doorway once inside the bedroom. Crowley’s arms were tight around him again and Aziraphale didn’t think he would ever get enough of this mouth, these lips, that tongue. His body was aching, but he didn’t care. He wanted Crowley’s mouth more than anything. Only five days, and he was starving for this kiss.

It was laughable, how far they’d come in the last couple months. Their first few attempts—even excluding the two dead kisses, as Aziraphale had come to think of them—had been a pale glimpse of what was to come. He’d said it then: This is only the beginning. At the time, he’d meant that there was so much else left to explore.

He hadn’t realized how much more there would be in this alone. Learning the exact softness of Crowley’s lips and the places where they tended to chap. Reading his thoughts through the lift and curls at the corners of his mouth, not by sight, but by the feel against him. The deftness of his tongue, the taste of him after a particularly fine glass of wine, the gnawing pressure of teeth against his bottom lip that would send the demon into ecstasy. Aziraphale could write an entire treatise on the whimpers and grunts and clicks he made in response to different stimuli. It was the one subject in the entire universe where he was the sole expert.

Crowley eventually broke the kiss. Not to take things further, not yet, but to draw Aziraphale into a tighter embrace. He whispered in his ear. “That was risky downstairs. And incredibly hot. Can I admit that I love it when you’re a right bastard to them?”

Aziraphale nuzzled his neck. He loved Crowley’s neck, the length of it, the scent of his skin. “They needed to know. Not just intellectually. They needed to experience the visceral proof of it. Nothing comes before you.”

Crowley’s lips twitched but he repressed the urge to make a joke of that. “I want to take you to bed, love.”

“Mm-hmm, yes.”

“Need to know what’s happening with your hip first. Are you…injured?”

Right! He’d almost forgotten why he’d been gone in the first place. Aziraphale pulled back, a sudden shyness coming over him. He blushed, not able to meet Crowley’s eyes. “No, not exactly. Though I’m sore so I need to be careful.”

Crowley brushed a hand across his cheek, tipping his chin up and leaning in for another light kiss. “Tell me about this surprise,” he said, his voice low and melodious and hypnotic.

“I—” Even with the encouragement, Aziraphale was at a loss for words. It wasn’t as if he thought Crowley would laugh at him, or that he wouldn’t appreciate the gift. He knew it wasn’t insignificant or silly. But he couldn’t find the words.

Instead, he took the demon’s hand and led him to the bed, where Crowley sat on the edge and looked up at him patiently. Aziraphale unbuttoned his trousers, a part of him noting that their positions could be interpreted through a wildly different lens, and let them fall to the ground. Crowley didn’t speak. He caressed his other hip, rubbing his thumb over the curve of flesh that protruded over boxers, and then kissing it softly. An encouragement rather than a seduction. Aziraphale smiled down at him and carefully removed his boxers, turning so that his left hip would be prominent.

Crowley’s face went completely blank for a few seconds as he took in the sight. Aziraphale had done his homework diligently. He’d found satellite images of different nebulas, and while he had been unable to find the exact one he’d witnessed the birth of, he’d gotten close enough to tweak. The tattoo artist he’d chosen specialized in color work, and she had several galaxy tattoos in her profile. They’d chatted about his idea and the way he wanted to use the satellite image as a base with specific changes. The end-design had been so close to that original nebula that Aziraphale knew that Crowley would recognize it at once.

With exquisite softness, Crowley lifted his hand and brushed his fingertips over the eddying swirls of space. He leaned forward and kissed the skin almost reverently, then tugged on Aziraphale’s hands to bring him to a kneeling position. Cupping his face, he drew the angel up to his lips and kissed him again, long and slow, and when his tears dripped down into the space between their mouths, they only added a new note to the taste of the embrace.

“It’s still healing,” Aziraphale whispered against his lips. “No miracles. I wanted to do this like humans do.”

Crowley’s forehead dropped to Aziraphale’s shoulder, and he shook with quiet sobs. Aziraphale ran his fingers up his back, through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. He felt close to tears himself, so full of love and joy and the transcendence of bonding with another person in ever-deeper ways.

When Crowley lifted his head, their lips met with an even richer tenderness than they’d had before. They didn’t speak—they couldn’t speak—as they tangled together in the bed. The demon was exquisitely careful, each touch soft until he was sure of exactly where his hand rested.

Aziraphale remembered back to their first time waking up beside each other. The softness of light in the room, the gentle way that Crowley coaxed him into slowing down. This was like a mirror image of that moment, Aziraphale pressed down on top of him, their bodies moving in sync but the emphasis wholly on their mouths. They knew themselves better by now, knew each other better. In this slowness, Crowley was able to use his fingers on Aziraphale efficiently, to apply lubrication without worry, to work with the angel to merge their bodies together. It wasn’t about an end-point, and in removing that goal, they both grew more aware of the sensations bursting alight over each of them.

Slowly, slowly, they moved together, bodies burning like embers rather than flashing like flame. Every few minutes, Crowley’s fingers made their reverent journey back over the tattoo as if reminding himself that it was there and what it meant to him.

And when they climaxed, one setting off the other, it was as otherworldly and explosive as that first burst of light thousands of years ago, floating side by side on the edge of the universe.

Aziraphale buried his face into Crowley’s neck, and the demon pulled a blanket over the top of them, and they both fell into an almost-doze without bothering to clean up or pull apart. They only emerged—feeling a bit shy and tender—after several hours.

“Well,” Crowley said, clearing his throat. “I don’t think my surprise is going to live up to this one.”

“The property?” Aziraphale asked as he began to dress.

He nodded. “It was perfect, angel. I hope this won’t upset you, but I…I didn’t wait. I put in the paperwork for it. Sped up the process with a little—” He gave an approximation of a miraculous snap. “—and I have the keys already. It’s ours, if you want it. And if you don’t, if I’m way off base, we can turn around and sell it. Don’t feel obliged, okay?”

Aziraphale covered Crowley’s mouth before he could stammer out more apologies. “What I’m hearing is that we have a new space to explore. To make love in. The first place we’ve ever had that’s just ours.”

Those yellow eyes filled with tears again. Aziraphale wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Crowley quite as weepy as he’d been today. He reached up to kiss both eyelids.

“Come. Let’s go see if Muriel has any real information for us from the last few days, and then we can take a drive out to this new place.”

“Stroll,” Crowley grunted. “Don’t need to drive. It’s close enough.”

Aziraphale turned wide eyes on him. “That close?”

Crowley winced. “Is that bad? I know you were looking at more rural areas originally, but your friends are here, and the places you’ve enjoyed exploring, and I thought…”

“No, no, not bad at all! It’s…I haven’t bothered to search in this area, not after my initial look-through. The costs around here are astronomical, dear. However could you afford it?”

“I didn’t cheat my way into it by miracle,” he said with a raised eyebrow, “if that’s what worries you.”

Aziraphale flushed. Some part of him had wondered. “Of course not. Only I…that is to say…you mentioned miracles a moment ago…”

“Only to speed up the process. I swear, no one got cheated out of anything, love. I didn’t even negotiate. They got the full asking price from me.” Crowley’s arms encircled him. “You see, while you were keeping up your accounts and stockpiling money under Heaven’s watchful eye, I was a little more discreet. I have quite a number of very valuable antiques disguised as art pieces in my flat. Hell had no idea, or no doubt Shax would have cashed them in during her stay. And just like some of your most precious books could fetch more than enough to afford a flat around here, it only took a single sale for me to do the same.”

The mention of his books made Aziraphale anxious. “Oh, but I didn’t want you to have to sell something dear to you, just for this!”

“First,” Crowley said, tapping him on the nose with one finger, “this is worth more than any possession for me. Second, I don’t have the same sort of attachment to my valuables as you do. Your books are precious not only for their monetary value, but for the love and care you have for them. My art was valuable for what it could provide. I kept it for the future. For the things I really want. Like giving us a home.”

A few months ago, before his stint in Heaven, Aziraphale had set up that ball in his bookshop with utmost care. He’d had to do quite a bit of manipulation, both miraculous and otherwise, to pull it all together. Part of that manipulation had involved giving away one of his books. He hadn’t needed to, of course. He could have offered the same incentive of lending as he’d done with others. But Crowley had accompanied him on those visits, and some part of him had wanted to give the demon a Clue. A hint that said, this ball is important, yes, perhaps even more significant than you realize. Whether or not he’d caught the hint was unknown, but this sacrifice felt like an echo of that moment.

“Not the one with the two angels, was it?” he asked.

Crowley laughed. “You like that one, do you?”

“You know I do,” Aziraphale mumbled into his chest. “Hush.”

“No, never that one.” He rubbed a hand through the angel’s curls. “Too much inspiration.”

“Mm, we’ve done that already, though.”

Leaning close to Aziraphale’s ear, Crowley whispered, “Not with our wings manifested.”

“Oh dear lord,” he said, knees going weak at the thought.

“Not today, angel. I think…I think perhaps I’d like to leave today with the memory of making love to you like that.” He gestured toward their bed. “That was. Ngh.”

Aziraphale put their lips together, agreeing with a kiss.

Chapter Text

“The lady who owned this flat passed away a few months ago,” Crowley explained as they walked hand and hand down the street. “From what I was told, she was widowed young and had a large settlement from that situation, which allowed her to acquire some real estate. This was back in the sixties, maybe? She kept the second floor as a larger flat for herself and her young son, converted the floor above into a smaller flat to rent and a studio for herself. The rental income kept her going over the years, and she specified in her will that the larger of the two properties be sold as a single unit, but the smaller could be sold separately, though neither could be sold to an investor. I had to fake a background check.”

He waved his free hand airily. Aziraphale smiled. “She must’ve been quite old.”

“Quite,” Crowley agreed. “Her son seemed a bit annoyed that he’d had to wait so long before he got his inheritance. He was grouchy. But now he’s rich.”

“I could have helped pay for this, you know.” The words were soft. “I wouldn’t have minded selling some of the books, or some of the property that I bought up at the same time as the bookshop. Like I told you before I was forced to go Upstairs—nothing lasts forever. The books are delightful, but I’d give them all up for you.”

Crowley tensed at the words, his hand tight on the angel’s. After a moment, he let out a long breath. “That’s, um, not what I thought you meant when you said that.”

Puzzled, Aziraphale thought back over their conversation from months ago. Crowley had worried that he wouldn’t be able to leave the bookshop, and he’d wanted to reassure him. He would gladly do so if it meant they could be together safely. The books were mere objects, nothing in comparison to them. There must be a context here that he was missing.

Crowley walked in silence as Aziraphale thought back with new knowledge. The tears, the panic that morning. Crowley, having just realized and acknowledged that he was in love. Unable to find the right words to express himself. You can’t leave this bookshop, he’d said. Now, Aziraphale heard what was underneath: Please don’t abandon our home. And his returning words, meant to reassure, had come across like knives. Nothing lasts forever.

“Oh.” An entire wave of sorrow washed through him, stunning him into stillness on the pavement.

For a moment, Crowley kept walking, and then their hands tugged in the increasing distance between them, and he turned back. “Angel?”

He was fighting tears now. “Oh, Crowley, oh.” Now he was the one without words, the one unable to express the depth of this pain and remorse and shame.

“Hey. It’s okay, love. It’s over with. A misunderstanding. We fought through it. We figured it out. It’s okay.”

Pedestrians stepped around them with annoyed exclamations. Crowley put a gentle hand on Aziraphale’s waist and tugged him up against a building to get them out of the way. Aziraphale was still trying to blink back tears. “I didn’t mean,” he began. “I never wanted…I couldn’t…What you must have…I’m so sorry.”

Crowley swallowed the apology with a kiss. Aziraphale let the tears fall. It was a miracle, it really was, that the demon had ever forgiven him. How blithe he’d been showing up at his doorstep that first day, kissing him without talking first, ignorant and confident that he would be accepted back with the most minimal of fuss.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, pulling back.

Crowley growled. “You swore to me that you would never leave me again. I’m holding you to that. It was a misunderstanding, Aziraphale. Not the first time we’ve had one and definitely not the last. So don’t even begin to start thinking about becoming a martyr and letting me go out of some sense of unworthiness.”

He knew the angel’s mind too well. Aziraphale wanted to run, to curl into a hole somewhere dark and damp and itchy, a place where he couldn’t eat and where he would be accosted by bad scents and where everything that touched his skin would make him recoil. Or worse, he wanted to return to Heaven, beg them to take him back and put him to whatever work they saw fit, a place he could never escape. A punishment fit for the pain he’d caused. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Oddly, it was Noah’s voice that floated to the forefront of his brain. Now don’t mess it up again, right? Noah hadn’t even spoken the words. They’d come via text, and yet Aziraphale still heard them as clearly as if they’d been said aloud. He’d promised to do his best, and when he opened his eyes, the fear and uncertainty on Crowley’s face told him that he was failing in this moment. He needed to do better.

Lurching clumsily forward, Aziraphale wrapped his arms around the demon and pulled him as tightly against him as his not-quite-human form could manage. He couldn’t stop the tears, but he could share them, could apologize wordlessly into the crook of Crowley’s shoulder, could reassure him that no matter how much he didn’t deserve it, he would never abandon this again. Not unless he was asked to leave.

“Don’t leave me,” Crowley whispered in his ear, as if he could hear the thought.

“Never. Not unless you ask me to. No matter how little I deserve you.”

“And stop saying that. You deserve everything.”

Before Aziraphale could respond, a gust of wind brought the first few drops of rain down onto them. The sky had gone cloudy, and he wasn’t sure if it was natural or something that one of them had caused in the turmoil of their own emotions. “I suppose we should continue on, before we get soaked.”

This time, there was no handholding. Crowley put his arm firmly around Aziraphale’s waist, and they were practically glued together, walking in step the rest of the way to the new flat.

The first time Aziraphale had looked up property online, he’d been dismayed at not only the prices, but the styles available for purchase in the immediate vicinity. It seemed that these days, everyone wanted sleek minimalism, bright whites and straight edges and functional fixtures. Not a drop of personality or character to soften the properties into homes. He’d found the same trends everywhere as he circled through listings further and further from his neighborhood of the last two-hundred-plus years. It wasn’t until he found older homes, freestanding cottages with wild gardens and individual names, that he began to feel comfortable with the idea of moving.

When Crowley told him that the flat was so close, he’d expected to find that same more-modern style. And to a certain extent, that was fine. This wasn’t his home; it was theirs. Crowley enjoyed those sleek lines and minimalist edges. Aziraphale would simply need to find a way to make it his as well. As he did indeed have books or property that he could sell to fund renovations, he decided not to fret no matter what the flat looked like.

The first thing that hit him upon entering their new home was the scent of it—the cheerful lingering of woodsmoke from a winter’s fire. Then, he saw the details. It seemed that the woman who had lived in this home for the last sixty years had not found much reason to update. There were sweeping archways, pocket doors, ornate trim on the ceilings, built-in shelves in various corners and nooks. The kitchen was a bit small, but as neither of them did much more than make coffee or tea in the kitchen, it would be perfect for their little home. There was a small guest bedroom, a closed-in reception room with a view overlooking the building’s courtyard below, and a separate two-part drawing room complete with bookshelves in the smaller portion and a padded window seat in the larger.

“This room would be for my plants,” Crowley said, leading Aziraphale from room to room while the latter looked on in awe at all the details. “We would have a seating area in here as well, of course, but the light from these windows will be perfect.”

“They’ll look beautiful against that exposed brick,” Aziraphale ventured. “Unless you want to cover it, of course.”

“Nah, no point in covering up the good bits.”

The main bedroom was divided into a sleeping area and an actual dressing room. “I think originally this was two bedrooms,” Crowley told him. “One of the changes she made over time. And look! The view from the balcony is amazing.”

It really was, looking out over the bustling streets that were so familiar and yet different from this vantage. “Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, clutching his arm. “How did you find something so perfect?”

“Demonic intuition,” Crowley said with a grin. “And you haven’t even seen the best part yet.”

He led Aziraphale back out of the bedroom and toward a second exit that he hadn’t noticed before. This led into a private enclosed deck and a stairwell that went up to the next floor. There were plants everywhere along the walls and growing into the slotted exterior fence.

“I don’t think her son wanted to try to remove all these. Some of them look like they’ve been growing for a very long time. A little personal gift for me, I think.”

Grinning, he bounded up the metal stairs two at a time. Aziraphale followed at a more sedate pace. This must be the upstairs studio. When he reached the landing, Crowley was holding the door open for him, bowing low with a flourish as he went inside.

“And this, my angel, is the gift for you.”

What had once been a flat had been gutted to create a large, open space with a ton of natural light. There were a few stacks of art supplies in different corners—another bit of detritus that the seller hadn’t wanted to remove, apparently—but for the most part, the room was a blank slate. It reminded Aziraphale of the bookshop when he’d first bought it. Not quite as big, of course, but open and flexible and ready for him to design into his own space.

“Will you have enough room, between the studio and the mini-library downstairs?”

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale said, falling into his arms again. “It’s absolutely perfect in every way. Every single way. I cannot believe—I can’t imagine—it’s like a dream.”

The smile he received in return was tentative, almost shy. “So you don’t mind that I jumped the gun, so to speak?”

In response, Aziraphale took his hand and led him back downstairs into the drawing room—the garden room, he reminded himself—then pushed him onto the window seat. The rain had begun in earnest now, creating a kaleidoscope of the street below through the streaked panes of glass. Aziraphale settled onto Crowley’s lap, straddling him, and brought his lips down to meet the demon’s. Crowley’s fingers moved through his hair, scrubbing and pulling at the curls.

They had agreed to leave today where it had already taken them, but historically, neither were terribly good at listening to their past selves. As the room grew dark both with the onset of evening and the increasing rain, an angel and a demon found their way into another soft and sensual moment. There were plenty of miracles this time. Miracles to conjure up pillows and extra padding to make the window seat more comfortable. Miracles to make sure they would not be seen from the buildings around them. Miracles to provide lubrication when their physical tubes of it were back in their respective flats.

Because honestly, what better way was there to spend their first evening in this new place, if not to christen it through lovemaking? Aziraphale had long believed that an environment would pick up the emotions and energy of the person or people occupying it. Just as his bookshop was filled in every nook and cranny with his love and care for the place, this flat was so clearly vibrating with the loyalty of its former owner. He could feel the love radiating out from its walls, and in holding Crowley, kissing Crowley, merging their bodies into one, they were only adding to it. This was to be their home. They would make these walls sparkle with devotion.

Chapter Text

They cleared out Crowley’s flat first. It was easy enough, given that he had very few possessions and even fewer that he cared to hold onto. The plants and valuables came with them, of course, as well as that ridiculous throne.

“I like it,” he insisted when Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “It’s comfortable!”

His bed went into the guest bedroom. Aziraphale asked, “Are you sure? I think your mattress is probably more comfortable than mine.”

“Yours smells like you, though. And it’s the first one we slept in together.”

So Aziraphale’s bed went into the primary bedroom, and he left the second one he had for Muriel. The rest of his furniture was more difficult to sort through. Two centuries was a long time to acquire possessions, and each room of his shop was stuffed not only with books, but with desks and dressers and tables and grandfather clocks and wardrobes and so many other antiques that he could not quite envision parting with.

This wasn’t just his flat, however, and he didn’t want to clutter it up with unnecessary furnishings. At Crowley’s suggestion, the armchair and sofa in the main room of the shop joined his throne at the flat. They were his favorites, and the pair had a long history with both. A few more of his armchairs and end-tables went into the formal reception room. He chose a favorite of his desks to move along, and two of his antique clocks, one for each level of the flat. The victrola, of course—at this, Crowley rolled his eyes in the same way as Aziraphale had at the throne—and a few of his most-loved sculptures. A dresser for their room, and a wardrobe for the guest bedroom. His card catalog for the upstairs library. A few lamps for bedside tables and more intimate settings.

So much was left behind, but with his furniture tucked alongside Crowley’s few possessions and pieces of art, Aziraphale found he didn’t mind the more spacious look of the place. His bookshop had been cozy and warm, but close despite the open central column. The flat, on the other hand, had an airy feel with all the natural light and exposed brick and the faint scent of woodsmoke. It made sense to give the furnishings room to breathe.

“You sure you don’t want to bring more?” Crowley asked him as they walked from room to room to survey. “I really don’t mind, angel. Your bookshop always felt like home for me.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “This gives us room to grow together.”

Then it was just the books left, and they were going to take some time. Even with a separate studio that he could turn into a library, it would be impossible to bring his entire collected works with him. And, Aziraphale was starting to realize, he felt okay about that. He loved his books, yes, but over the last few months, a part of him had started to recognize that his obsession with them had been a type of displacement. A substitute for an affection he wasn’t allowed to express. He was less obsessed now that he was more content.

So each day, he and Crowley spent several hours at the bookshop, the demon sprawled on the not-quite-as-comfortable sofa that had been brought out from a back room, Aziraphale sitting on the floor with stacks of books surrounding him.

“What are you going to do with the place,” Crowley asked Muriel one afternoon, “after all the books are gone?”

Muriel shrugged. “I’ll probably start by asking Heaven what they want me to do with it. I doubt they’ll know, but at least it’ll look like I’m doing things properly.”

“You have zero interest in running a shop, do you?”

“None whatsoever. But I don’t mind, if it means having a comfy place to settle in. Especially now that I can have some guests of my own.”

Aziraphale looked up at that. “You could have had guests before, if you wanted.”

Muriel shrugged. “Felt weird to invite people when it wasn’t truly my place. Regardless of what Heaven called it.”

“So you’ve had a chance to make a few more friends?” he asked tentatively. He wondered if they would need to have another conversation about humans and short life spans and keeping under the radar. They were lessons he and Crowley had both learned over the millennia, especially once they began to stay in one place and acquaintanceship grew trickier. Muriel knew the dangers, but they had never been particularly receptive to the idea of hiding.

“Found someone to experiment with,” they said vaguely.

Crowley lifted an eyebrow at Aziraphale, and said, “You remember, of course, that humans don’t last very long?”

Muriel idly turned a page in their book. “He’s not human.” They looked up, caught the expressions on both their faces, and sighed. “You do realize that you two aren’t the only people who can seek out amenable companionship among immortal beings? It’s not like I started asking around the archangels. You have to look to the unimportant people.”

“Anyone we know?” Aziraphale asked.

Another shrug. “Possibly. Probably not. I think you two mostly dealt with each other and the bigwigs. Hell had the same idea as Heaven this time. Send a nobody, and maybe they’ll last longer in the job. He says thanks for the flat, by the way, Crowley. He was supposed to move in months ago, but he didn’t want to interfere. I think you intimidate him.”

“I hadn’t realized anyone was waiting on me,” Crowley said. He’d told Aziraphale that when Hell wanted the flat, they’d simply barge in and grab it. “I could have vacated ages ago if I’d known. I was practically living here anyway.”

“Eric didn’t mind. He prefers not to make waves. His life in Hell was pretty bad.”

“Well,” Aziraphale said, exchanging another glance with Crowley, “I hope it will be better here on earth. I’m glad the two of you get along. That will certainly make life less lonely. And a bit easier, not having to thwart all the time.”

“Humans are too complicated for proper good and evil anyway. I think both sides know that by now; they’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

Crowley cackled. “I hope you’ll introduce us. When he’s comfortable. And, you know, have fun with your experiments.”

“Bodies are fascinating,” Muriel said, turning another page in their book. “I don’t really understand the fuss, though. Sex can be fun but so can getting an ice cream. Or watching a silly movie. And ice skating is waaaay better. It’s almost like flying.”

The bell over the door rang, and Aziraphale looked around to see who might be here to shop. Noah waved to him, and he made his rather ungainly way off the floor, knocking over one of his piles in the process. “Drat.”

Crowley snorted and got off the sofa to help tidy the mess.

Noah had been stopping by every few days for the last month. Most of the time, he was cheerful enough, but it was obvious he missed Yusha a lot more than he should after only a week together. Not long after their separation, he’d received a postcard from Paris and brought it round to share with them. Muriel had hopped away, loudly proclaiming that they would make tea, to avoid hearing the location. “Plausible deniability,” they said later. Noah had simply assumed they were upset and preferred not to discuss Yusha at all, so he tactfully didn’t bring him up in their presence any longer.

“Still working on the never-ending task?” he asked, tapping a stack of books lightly with one boot.

“It’s a large collection to sort through,” Aziraphale said, not for the first time. “It’ll get done.”

“Family fortune wrapped up in old books.” Noah shook his head with a laugh. “No wonder you can afford your antiques. I still can’t believe I thought your clothes were good replicas when we first met.”

The angel gave him a hmph and sat back amongst his books. He couldn’t miracle the keep-piles off to the flat with Noah here, but he rarely got much actual sorting done when they had company, either. “How did last night go?”

It was the first time Noah had gone out on a not-only-for-sex date since breaking things off with Yusha. He’d been wary of anything more emotional, and now, he grimaced at the question.

“That bad?” Crowley murmured.

Noah shrugged. “He was nice. It was all perfectly…nice.”

Muriel stepped over a stack of books and crawled up onto the sofa between Noah and Crowley, tucking their legs up and kicking Crowley to nudge him out of his sprawl in order to get more room. They put their arms around Noah, who rested his arm over their shoulder.

“Thanks, dove,” he said as they snuggled in tighter.

“Sorry he wasn’t right,” Muriel said.

“Happens. I’ll find my person eventually.” He pulled a lock of their hair. “Too bad you’re too young for me.”

Muriel made a face. “I’m way older than you. Millions of years older than you. You have a baby soul. I’m evolved.”

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance as Noah laughed. Muriel had been toeing this line more and more in spite of the warnings that it could lead nowhere good. Neither dared say anything in present company. Aziraphale moved a few more books to a keep-pile.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Noah said with another teasing pull. Before they could retort, he asked, “Did you come up for a plan for the shop yet?”

“Crowley asked me the same thing like ten minutes ago. I have no idea. I just don’t want to get bored all alone here. It’s been nice, having someone to talk to whenever I like. Not random strangers who come through the door to ask for assistance, either. Proper friends.”

“We only live down the street and around the corner,” Crowley protested. “And you know Aziraphale won’t be able to stop coming around to check up on the place, no matter what you do with it. Plus, Nina would never forgive him if he stopped patronizing her coffeeshop.”

He thumbed over his shoulder, and Noah turned to look out the window. With a laugh, he said, “So that’s your regular? Makes more sense than where we met before. Why didn’t you bring me here on that first date?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to explain, as best as he could, without tying his tongue into knots or provoking Crowley into a mood. Then he noticed Noah’s grin and shut his mouth. Not for the first time, he wished he could communicate with the demon’s nonverbal language. He turned back to his books, and Crowley cackled. “Oh, shut up,” he muttered.

“What are some of your favorite things, Muriel?” Noah asked. “I’m sure we can find a good solution for this space that makes you happy.”

“People. But I don’t suppose that’s a good answer for a shop. Neither is flying, really. That’s my favorite activity.”

“Travel agency?” Noah suggested. “Not sure if you need certs for that. You’d have to look into it.”

Muriel shook their head. “Too much paperwork. Sales. Boring.”

“Alright. What else is on the list?”

After a few minutes of thought, Muriel said, “Dress-up.”

Noah laughed. “That old-soul thing isn’t working out for you, dove. But actually, I really like that idea. Imagine this place as a giant costume emporium. Rooms featuring different time periods or styles. Fantasy costumes and historical pieces. Everything from ornate ballgowns to Halloween costumes to stage wardrobe. With custom tailoring, if you wanted.”

“We could make it look like a treasure chest,” Muriel said, perking up. “Each space a new world to enter. Like magic. That would be neat.”

“We?”

Noah sounded uncertain. Aziraphale, however, had caught the spark in his voice as he spoke about the idea. Noah loved clothes and fashion, and he already did a modest amount of tailoring in the shop where he worked now. His practical knowledge and skills, combined with Muriel’s imagination and unconventional ideas, might indeed create a very special place. It might also involve revealing the truth to Noah in time, but he had a feeling that was going to come sooner rather than later anyway, if the current ambassador of Heaven had anything to say about it.

“Just a thought,” Muriel said, hugging him more tightly. “I think we’d work well together. You’re not obliged to, of course. Only it sounds more fun if you’re part of it.”

After a moment, Noah’s expression relaxed into a soft smile. “You’d make it fun,” he said. “I’ll think about it.”

Chapter Text

It took three months, but Aziraphale finally sorted through the whole of his book collection. A big chunk of it came with him to the new flat. If the upstairs library looked bigger on the inside, it wasn’t enough of a discrepancy that human minds would consider it too deeply. There were a few books that he sold or donated, but he fretted so much about these that Crowley insisted that they rent a storage space for the rest until he was ready to let go. (“Or forever, angel, makes no difference to me.”)

While he moved the books out section by section, Muriel designed their costume emporium. Noah provided practical guidance, and was ever-amazed by what Muriel accomplished.

“You need to be careful about your miracles,” Aziraphale gently chided one day after Noah spent an hour trying to parse out how they kept the display costumes so lifelike without wires.

Muriel had only shrugged. “Gonna have to tell him eventually, if we run the shop together. The way I see it, the more he can’t understand now, the easier it’ll be to accept I’m telling the truth when it’s time.”

Eric, when everyone finally met him, turned out to be a lighthearted demon with a severe addiction to energy drinks and a resultant tendency to twitch at every potential threat. He really liked Noah, which won him approval from Aziraphale. His willingness to learn about wine and liquor from Crowley won him favor in that arena, too, and soon he was a regular part of their circle. He, along with Muriel and Noah, were invited to dinner for a small housewarming party after the flat was fully furnished and moved into.

It was an unusually cool evening, lovely weather, allowing Aziraphale to open their windows and let in a gentle breeze. Crowley had gathered blooms cut from his private courtyard, enhancing their scent ever so slightly in the formal dining area.

Noah, true to form, was the first to arrive. Eric showed up around the same time that Aziraphale got a text from Muriel.

‘Alright if I bring another guest with me? Human’

Aziraphale frowned and showed the message to Crowley. He shrugged and said, “Ngh. Sure, why not? We have plenty.”

So Aziraphale passed the word along, and ten minutes later, answered the door to Muriel and a woman who he immediately placed as the American who owned Agnes Nutter’s book.

“Oh, it’s book girl!” Crowley said before Aziraphale could think of something to say.

“My name’s Anathema,” the woman said with a withering glare.

“Hey, my name was once anathema, too. So I changed it.”

Crowley giggled at his own joke while Anathema scowled. Aziraphale decided to step in before she got truly angry. “What brings you back to London, dear?”

A few more beats of scowling, and she turned to him. “Agnes. She’s bloody insistent that I’m here tonight. I’ve burned half a dozen copies of her second book of prophecies, but every time I think I’m rid of the legacy, another copy finds me.”

Aziraphale’s chest heaved at the idea that any books were being burned, much less something as precious and priceless as Agnes Nutter’s prophecies. Crowley took the opportunity to say, “It’s almost like she knew you’d burn them!”

More scowls in his direction. Crowley grinned with all his teeth showing. Muriel rolled their eyes and gave a little wave as they traipsed into the dining room to greet Noah and Eric.

“Anyway,” Anathema went on, “I’m told tonight is important and that I needed to find you two thieves again.”

“We’re not thieves—” Aziraphale began.

“Well, reckless drivers, anyway.” She hadn’t peeled her eyes from Crowley’s face.

He laughed. “Fine, book girl, join us for dinner. But you have to let my angel look at the new prophecies afterwards.” At their simultaneous looks of denial and demure, he shook his head. “It’s an exchange, take it or leave it.”

After a moment, Anathema said, “Fine,” then muttered sotto voce, “This had better be worth it, Agnes.”

Behind her back, Aziraphale shot Crowley a look of pure gratitude and love. He knew he ought to reproach instead, but this was Agnes Nutter! How many other chances would he get? And—he got excited at the very idea—he now had a mobile! He could take photos of each page, analyze the new prophecies in detail for weeks to come…

The three of them joined Muriel, Eric, and Noah in the dining area, which was now laid for six. Anathema looked around at everyone without acknowledging any of them. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re one short.”

“Pardon me, dear?” Aziraphale said.

She turned on him, lips pursed as if he ought to understand already. “There’s meant to be seven of us.”

“There were only five before Muriel invited you.”

Anathema waved this away. “Service for seven. Trust me. Or, trust Agnes.”

Aziraphale exchanged a significant glance with Crowley, who raised an eyebrow and went for another seat and plate setting as the angel made introductions. Anathema’s eyes roved over each of them as she nodded, catching on Noah and narrowing in worry. Under the cover of seat-rearrangement, she hastily whispered to Aziraphale.

“Does he know…anything?”

“Ah, I’m afraid we’ve tried to keep him in the dark. For his own protection, mind.”

She snort-laughed. “Then you’re in for an interesting night.”

On that ominous note, she sat and began a conversation with an oblivious Muriel. Crowley murmured, “All well?” into his ear, and Aziraphale gave him the sort of smile he used to give Heaven when they checked up on him. A raised eyebrow, and then the six of them sat together, the open spot at the head of the table drawing occasional glances.

But whatever was meant to happen came to nothing during the first course, nor during the second. Eric praised the food, and Aziraphale confessed that it was brought in as “neither of us cook particularly well.” Wine and conversation flowed freely, and the empty space at the table was all but forgotten by the time slices of treacle tart were passed around. Anathema declined, taking only coffee, and Crowley joined her with a drink (whisky, in his case).

The American’s smile was self-satisfied when there was a sudden, boisterous knocking on the flat’s door. Aziraphale turned with no idea what to expect.

“Good lord, who on earth—”

But Noah gave a strangled cry as he leapt from his chair and ran toward the door. As the knock began again—in the same pattern as the first time, Aziraphale realized—Noah yanked it open. “Yusha!”

The reunion probably ought to have been private, but everyone was on their feet and watching as Yusha and Noah dove into an embrace far more passionate than their former parting might have suggested. Months had apparently not dimmed the heat that had flared in their week together back in the winter. Between kisses, Noah was crying, whimpering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, can you ever forgive me?” And Yusha—of course—offered forgiveness without reservation.

Aziraphale exchanged a look with Crowley, then met the stunned and slightly fearful eyes of the current angelic ambassador to earth. Anathema clasped her hands gleefully in front of her.

“You didn’t think I’d miss His returning, did you?” she whispered.

Crowley huffed. “Almost did. He first arrived months ago.”

“Yes. Well. I can only learn what Agnes tells me, and she said to come tonight. Can’t deny she was right about that.”

Yusha turned to them, Noah blissfully glued to his side, and beamed. “I’m so happy you two found a place! It’s lovely!”

“Oh thank you,” Aziraphale said. “I’m afraid we’ve quite finished dinner, but I’m sure I can scrounge something, or perhaps I can offer you something to drink? Or dessert?”

“Wine would be lovely,” Yusha said. “Sorry to be late. The train was on time, but I got distracted on my way here.”

Noah looked at him, then back to Aziraphale and Crowley. “You invited him? Oh, you must’ve—how else would he have known your new address? No, Muriel, you organized this, didn’t you?”

He beamed at them, and Muriel tried to smile back. It was a good guess. After all, Muriel was closest to him now, the one who had listened to his sorrows and regrets in the months that they set up the beginnings of a costume shop.

They didn’t have a chance to answer, though, as Yusha noticed strangers among them. “Hi!” he said to Eric, holding out a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Yusha.”

“E-Eric. Muriel’s f-friend.” His hand trembled fearfully as he put it in Yusha’s, as if he expected to be discorporated on the spot for touching the Son of God.

“You have the loveliest eyes.”

Eric blinked rapidly a few times, then broke into a huge smile. “Oh. Thank you.”

Yusha turned to Anathema and one eyebrow lifted. For all her confidence earlier, she grew shy under his direct gaze. “You’re unexpected,” he said in an undertone.

“You…know me?”

“To a certain degree. Agnes did manage to get her family rather wrapped up in events, didn’t she? I see that’s ongoing.”

“The problem with being a professional descendant. I’m Anathema, by the way.”

“Charmed.” He winked and returned to Noah, wrapping an arm around his waist and giving him another passionate kiss. Then he held up his empty wine glass—how he’d gotten it in hand, no one saw—and waggled it at them. “Wine, Zee! Let’s get this party going again! Don’t let me ruin your housewarming, my loves.”

“It’s Aziraphale, if you don’t mind,” the angel said as he poured wine. “If you really want a shorter version, Az or Azi will be better. Zee…doesn’t feel like me.”

Yusha grinned. “Az it is! Thanks for telling me, dear.” He sat, pulling Noah into his lap. So much for a seventh place-setting. “Muriel, love—you must tell me everything you’ve been getting up to.”

Muriel was wringing their hands together. “Yusha. I have to report in. I’m sorry.”

“Why so? I didn’t need their permission to—”

“They’ll reassign Aziraphale if I don’t. I’m not going to be the one to separate them!” They flung a hand toward him and Crowley.

“What do you mean? Who?” Noah asked. Everyone in the room avoided each other’s eyes. Yusha patted Noah’s back absently, but the distraction didn’t work. “What am I missing?”

“You should tell him,” Anathema said in a low voice.

“Been saying that for ages,” Muriel said. “Glad someone’s on my side.”

“I’m on your side, angel,” Eric said, and they beamed at him.

“Wait,” Noah said, his voice growing angry. “Are you all seriously having a vote on whether or not to include me in some secret that apparently everyone else, including this stranger, already knows?”

He pointed to Anathema, who shrugged and raised her hands as if to say, Not my decision. Noah looked over them all, and the anger transformed into hurt. Instead of landing on Yusha, his gaze stopped on Aziraphale. They’d known each other the longest, had been the closest in the beginning. Aziraphale’s heart felt sick with betrayal.

“Oh, alright,” he said, holding out a hand. Noah took it, sliding from Yusha’s lap. “Come upstairs. I’ll tell you everything. Muriel? Can you wait to report in until after this conversation?”

They nodded. Crowley raised a questioning eyebrow—Do you need my help?—and Aziraphale gave him a reassuring smile and shake of his head in response. Then he tugged on Noah’s hand to lead him outside and upstairs into the library.

Chapter Text

As they went upstairs, Aziraphale considered how best to approach this conversation. Should he start with the inexplicable things Noah had seen in the costume emporium? Mention the “strange thought” he had on karaoke night? Simply manifest his wings and hope that Noah didn’t faint outright?

He didn’t let go of Noah’s hand as they entered the library. Noah looked around and smiled, forgetting why they were there for a moment. “It’s beautiful in here. Not all that different from the shop.”

“Yes. Well. Old habits, I suppose.”

Noah focused on him. “Like keeping secrets.” His smile dimmed, and he looked unsure. “Is this, like, a mafia thing? You’re protecting me for my own safety?”

For a second, Aziraphale stared at him, uncomprehending. Then he had to try not to burst into laughter. “Oh, I wish it was as easy as that, dear.” He sighed. “Wait here for a moment. Let me find a particular book.”

It only took a few minutes to locate his copy of Magick in Theory and Practice by Aleister Crowley. Written on the front flap in Crowley’s distinctive scrawl was the message, “To my student Aziraphale, so that you can continue to learn of TRUE magick. Aleister Crowley.” With a deep breath, Aziraphale handed the book over to Noah.

The latter looked it over, examining the handwriting and briefly running a finger down the page. He looked up, puzzled. “You’re a…forger?”

Aziraphale scoffed. “No, dear. That’s not a forgery. Aleister Crowley wrote that with his own hand. That is a first edition copy. If you look through my library properly, you will find many books with notes from the author within. Addressed to me, specifically, I mean. My collection is not an inheritance, Noah. I gathered ninety percent of these on my own, when they were first published. Including—” he waved at the shelf of scrolls on the back wall “—those works which were written before book form existed.”

Noah continued to look at him blankly.

“My clothes as well. I don’t mean these,” he added, gesturing to tonight’s outfit. He’d worn the vintage-cut waistcoat that Noah had delivered as a thank you all the way back when Aziraphale had been off in Brighton. “The ones you first saw me in. They weren’t antiques when I bought them.”

Slowly, Noah said, “I can’t decide if you’re trying to tell me that you’re a time traveler, or that you’re hundreds of years old.”

He didn’t sound like he believed either possibility. Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Not hundreds. I’m not sure my age can be quantified in numbers. I existed before time did.” When Noah still looked like he was blue-screening, Aziraphale sighed and did what he probably should have done in the first place. He manifested his wings. “I’m an angel.”

Noah stumbled back, nearly hitting a bookshelf. “I—oh—I can’t—wait—are those…are they real?”

Holding out a wingtip, he said, “Very real. I’m sorry. I know this is beyond belief. It’s why I chose not to share before. People—humans—they aren’t good with the metaphysical. Not in this day and age.”

But Noah didn’t appear to be listening. His face was screwed up in thought as his fingers stroked the edge of Aziraphale’s wing. “All of them. Downstairs. They all know. Does that mean—are they all—they’re…angels?”

“No! No, of course not. I’m an angel, former ambassador for Heaven on earth, now retired and honestly not in Heaven’s good books, to tell you the truth. Muriel is my replacement. You met their parents—they aren’t really their parents. They’re angels, too. Archangels. Some of the big bosses, though not the Big Boss.” He pointed upwards a bit timidly, and saw Noah’s eyes widen in understanding. “Crowley and Eric…they work for the, um, other side. Hell. They’re demons. Crowley used to be my counterpart here on earth, and is also retired, with Eric as his replacement.”

“Demons,” Noah said flatly.

“Demons,” Aziraphale agreed. He gently pulled his wings back and vanished them. “Now, I need to be clear about this. Angels and demons aren’t exactly what humans have made them out to be. I’ve seen true evil among angels, and the best type of kindness among demons. Personalities among both are as varied as among humans. You have nothing to fear from the four of us, though I can’t honestly say there’s nothing to fear from angels and demons in the more general sense. Most view humanity…well, similarly to how humans view ants. Small, unimportant, and a bit pesky when they get in the way.”

“Right.” His expression continued to process, fingers idly pawing the air as if still touching feathers. “And the other two? That new woman, Anathema?”

“Human, with an ancestor who could accurately predict the future, so very well-versed in the ethereal parts of the universe.”

“And Yusha?” Noah looked reluctant to ask.

Aziraphale winced. “Can we wait to discuss Yusha until after you’ve had a chance to come to terms with the rest of this? He’s…a special case.”

For the first time since they reached the library, Noah looked angry. “Aziraphale.”

Sighing, he said, “He’s human, mostly. Born and lived the first few decades of his life a couple thousand years ago. He’s spent the intervening time in Heaven, before deciding to return to earth last winter, the day you met him.”

“People can do that?”

“Only if they’ve been resurrected by God Herself.”

Confusion flickered across Noah's face, followed very quickly by understanding. He paled and looked about to faint. “I need to sit down,” he whispered.

Aziraphale miracled up a chair and guided him into it.

“Where did this come from?” Noah asked, patting the seat beneath him as blood returned to his face.

“This chair? The dressing room downstairs. I didn’t want to pull something from whole cloth, as it were.” When Noah stared at him, Aziraphale manifested the second chair from the dressing room to sit opposite him. He kept hold of his hand.

“So angels can do magic?”

“Miracles,” Aziraphale confirmed.

“I thought miracles were meant to be…miraculous?”

He grinned. “Miracles can be as small or grand as we choose. I must say, I used to get into plenty of trouble for using too many frivolous miracles, back in the day.” He squeezed Noah’s hand. “How are you holding up, dear?”

With a shaky laugh, Noah said, “Well, it turns out that a number of my friends are supernatural beings, including the one I might end up working with fulltime, and one I tried to take on a date before I started sleeping with the reincarnation of Jesus Christ. Fuck.”

“Yes. That about sums it up. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into things this way. I only meant to try to make a friend.”

“Don’t apologize. I don’t regret it. Honestly, Aziraphale. All of you have been so wonderful, and without you, I wouldn’t have met Yusha, and I don’t know what life would be like without him. And don’t tell me I might be better off,” he added, pointing. “What I have with him is amazing, even if it’s something I struggle to understand. I’m glad I’m getting a second chance at it.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Perhaps knowing who he is will help you to understand why he is.”

Noah thought that over. “You might be right. I’m thinking back on all the things you tried to say to me, before. All the hints I never caught. You and Crowley—I think I understand what you told me back then. About your ‘family.’ Those people, I mean angels, that claimed to be Muriel’s parents. They wouldn’t be happy that you loved him.”

“They tried to destroy us simply for working together,” Aziraphale said, shaking his head. “We are both traitors in their eyes. Never mind the love.”

Unexpectedly, Noah lurched forward and put his arms around Aziraphale. “I don’t think I like Heaven or Hell,” he said. “And I’m glad you’re here and away from them. And I think chosen family is better than blood family anyway.”

There was a soft knock at the library door as Aziraphale smiled into Noah’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he said, disengaging from the hug. “Let me go reassure Crowley that all is well.”

Just as Noah had recognized Yusha’s knock, Aziraphale recognized Crowley’s. He answered the door with a smile and led him inside.

“So you didn’t faint or run away screaming then?” Crowley said.

“Really, dear,” Aziraphale chided, but Noah actually laughed.

“Do you have wings, too?”

Crowley looked sidelong at the angel. “Ngh. Yeah. I do. Look the same as his, ’cept black. And I have the eyes,” he began, pointing, then stopped to glance at Aziraphale again. “Wait, did you tell him who…?”

“No, dear. That’s entirely your story to tell if you wish.”

“Ngh.” He grimaced, as Noah looked on curiously. “I…well, I’m sure you know basic bible shit, right? I mean, the bible is unreliable in so many ways. Was never the whole truth and it’s gotten all twisted up over the years. But you’ve heard of the serpent in the Garden of Eden? Myeah, that was me.”

Eyes wide, Noah said, “Jesus fucking Chr—” then cut himself off with a surprised laugh. “Shit, I’d better not say that anymore, yeah?”

“Speaking of Yusha,” Crowley said. “He’s a little anxious right now. Thinks you might change your mind again, after this conversation.”

Noah stood at once. “I want to see him.”

Aziraphale miracled the chairs back into the dressing room, earning a doubletake from Noah before he muttered something about needing to get used to that. As the angel put his hand on the door, Noah stopped him.

“Before we go, I need to ask two things.” He waited until Aziraphale nodded. “Can I explore your library sometime, now that I know about it?”

Aziraphale felt his entire face light up. “I’d be delighted to show you around!”

“Thanks!” Noah said, before his smile faltered. He took a deep breath. “Do I love him because of who he is? I mean, can he…make people love him, if he wants?”

“Doesn’t work like that,” Crowley grunted.

“He’d be able to explain it to you a bit better,” Aziraphale said, “but in short, that’s not the kind of miracle he can perform. People are drawn to him, it’s true, but some of those same people killed him. If you were attracted to his magnetism, it’s no different from being attracted to anyone else’s, in essence, except his is perhaps a bit stronger. But stronger doesn’t mean manipulative—some people are equally repulsed by the quality.”

“Yusha never slept with anyone to sway them in some way, as far as I remember,” Crowley said. “And he truly does love with his full heart. He has infinite capacity. Made that way.”

Noah nodded and took another shaky breath. “I suppose I should go tell him that I’m not planning to run.”

“Right,” Aziraphale said, taking Crowley’s hand. “And we need to let Muriel report in. Ready to face the archangels again, love?”

Crowley grunted in reply.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale waited outside the front door, mobile in hand. Muriel had gone back to the shop to call in, and everyone else, besides Eric, had decided to stay for the ensuing confrontation.

“This could be dangerous,” Aziraphale had warned.

Eric: “I think I’ll go, just in case.”

Anathema: “Can’t be any more dangerous than facing down the Four Horsemen.”

Noah (after a wide-eyed stare at Anathema’s statement): “I don’t want to leave Yusha.”

So Crowley settled everyone into the reception room, making sure there were chairs available for the archangels when they arrived (“The less comfortable ones, of course”). Aziraphale strengthened the wards around the flat and went outside to wait. It didn’t take long. The archangel trio followed a harried-looking Muriel, their faces all screwed up into identical scowls. A deep part of Aziraphale found the scene amusing, and he worked to keep his own expression placid as they arrived.

“Where is he?” Michael demanded at once.

“He’s inside.” He held up a hand as the archangels tried to pass him. “The building is warded. You can only enter by invitation, which I’ll gladly give as soon as each of you make a binding promise not to hurt any of the people within. That includes Crowley and myself, of course, as well as Muriel, Yusha, and the two human companions that are here with us tonight.”

“You have humans here?”

Sandalphon’s rough voice scraped through Aziraphale unpleasantly. He wondered if he could allow only Michael and Uriel through the ward. With a sigh, he said, “Yes, and they’re not to be turned into pillars of salt. They both know all about the situation, so there’s no need to hide anything. And one of them is Yusha’s boyfriend, so you really ought not to threaten him in any way.”

“You promised to cooperate—” Uriel began, and Aziraphale pulled himself up straighter.

“And I am. I cannot force Yusha to come outside to meet you. I’m willing to invite you into my home to speak with him, but I must protect the things I hold dear. That’s the final word I’ll say on the matter.”

Even though there was no debate to be had on the subject, the archangel trio formed a huddle to discuss their “options” before they finally agreed not to hurt anyone. (What a thing, Aziraphale thought to himself as he held open the door to them, that angels struggled to promise not to cause anyone harm…)

The reception room was an ornate thing, octagonal in shape with lush burgundy wallpaper and scrollwork trim. They’d stuffed the place with squashy armchairs from the bookshop, and now, all four were filled—Yusha holding Noah in his lap, Crowley lounging on the arm of one to wait for Aziraphale to be seated, the other two taken by Anathema and Muriel. The three less-comfortable chairs were positioned on the other side of the room, and Crowley waved the archangels toward them. In tandem, they sat, straight-backed and rigid.

In complete contrast, the demon melted into Aziraphale’s arms when he took his seat, limbs flowing every which way. It was even more languid than his usual take on furniture, and the angel repressed a grin at his showmanship.

When it didn’t look as if the archangels knew how to begin the conversation, Yusha took control. “I heard that the three of you wanted to speak to me about something?” he said, dragging his fingers through Noah’s hair and pressing a kiss to his head possessively.

Sandalphon grimaced, and Michael shot him a warning look to keep his mouth shut at the display. “Your Grace,” they began.

Yusha waved that away. “None of that nonsense. I’m no lord here. I’m just Yusha.”

“Alright. Yusha.” The word looked painful on Michael’s tongue. “We need you to return with us to…”

They hesitated on the word Heaven, pointing upwards instead, despite Aziraphale informing them that the humans in this room knew everything already. Yusha laughed. “Why ever do you need me in Heaven? It’s not like any of you ever bothered with me in the two millennia I lived up there. Did you know that? That my only visitor was an occasional scrivener that happened to wander by? It was just me in my lonely little corner until Aziraphale came to say hello, and he did that after—what was it, dear? A few days after you were brought Upstairs?”

“Took me a bit to find you,” Aziraphale said quietly. “Or I would have been there quicker.”

The archangels ignored this. Uriel said, “Plans have begun for the Second Coming.”

Yusha rolled his eyes. “I’m already here, Second Coming achieved, yeah?”

“This is not the Second Coming,” Sandalphon said. “There is a Plan. A divine Plan. You are interfering with that by running off like an errant schoolboy and playing around here on earth.”

“Playing around.” Yusha’s voice took on a dangerous tinge that Aziraphale had never heard. It thrummed with low-grade magic. “And what is it that you’d prefer for me to be doing here on earth, if not playing around.”

The archangels exchanged glances, no doubt hearing that same dangerous note in his words. Michael said, “You’re meant to smite the wicked.” When Yusha’s eyebrows went up, they stammered out, “There was meant to be an antichrist. There was an antichrist. Only they—” They gestured toward Aziraphale and Crowley. “—thwarted that part of God’s plan, so we had to find a new way to orchestrate your arrival here, to smite the wicked so that the good can live under your rule in harmony!”

“Wait.” Yusha held out a hand. “Let me get this straight. The original Plan was to leave earth to be ruled by an antichrist, who I assume you would consider extremely evil, and then I was meant to swoop in and judge those who remained? Judge humans who had survived under the rule of an oppressive leader? With no mercy for their situation?”

“The good and righteous would remain true to the Lord our God,” Sandalphon said, and the other two chorused, “Amen.”

Crowley snorted. “Six thousand years, and you still know absolutely nothing about humans.”

“What do you mean, six thousand…?” Noah began, cutting off when Yusha whispered, “Later,” in his ear.

“We know the Plan,” Michael said sternly, glaring at Crowley. They turned back to Yusha. “Judgement, then peace on earth under your rule.”

“Already told you,” Yusha said. “I’m not a lord. I don’t want to be any kind of ruler. That kind of power and responsibility is not my jam. I only want to live my life—a full life this time, without being a martyr on the other end of it—and help where I can.”

“That isn’t what you were made for!” Uriel protested.

The atmosphere in the room shifted dramatically. Even Uriel looked uneasy with her own words.

Yusha patted Noah on the back and said, “Dove-ling? Would you mind cuddling with Muriel for a few moments, please?”

Noah obeyed at once, slotting side by side with the angel ambassador, who put protective arms around him as Yusha stood.

“So I am meant to be a tool,” he said quietly, nodding to himself. “Only a tool, good for carrying messages to the world and for smiting the wicked. Well. I supposed we should get started, then. Sandalphon, would you like to be first?”

The archangels, who had looked almost relieved at his sudden acquiescence, stiffened again. Sandalphon looked around wildly. “Me? W-what do you mean?”

Yusha waved a nonchalant hand. “All the evil you’ve done. Come on, mate, don’t make me innumerate everything. You glory in pain. Take the recent past. A few years ago, you punched Aziraphale—a fellow angel—in anger and disgust. And Uriel, you threatened him and insulted him. You both stood by and watched as he was thrown into a wall of fire. That’s just a few examples. There have been centuries of misdeeds that I’ve stood by and watched in Heaven. As for you, Michael—”

Michael flinched under his gaze.

“Collaborating with the ‘enemy,’ to deliver holy water in an attempt to annihilate my oldest friend, who was being punished for—drumroll, please—collaborating with the enemy. Hypocrisy? That seems the sort of sin you would ask me to smite a human for.”

All three suddenly looked as rabbity as Eric. Michael stammered, “B-but surely…we’re angels…we do the work of God, of your Mother, you aren’t meant to smite us, like you said, it’s the humans that—”

“Evil is evil; sin is sin. All sins are equal in the eyes of God.” Yusha began to pace closer to the archangels, his hips swaying in a motion almost as snake-like as Crowley. Aziraphale wondered if he’d picked up that move in all those years they traveled together. “I seem to remember saying something, can’t remember the exact phrasing, but let me try. Those without sin may cast the first stone? That’s close enough.”

Desperate now, Michael pointed to him. “Yes, and that’s you, your Grace. You are the one without sin. You are the one who ‘casts stones.’”

Voice low, Yusha said, “Who says I am without sin? Who is there to judge me, and who am I to judge others? We have all fallen, all sinned, all lost our way from time to time. Sin is such a nebulous concept, especially when it becomes mixed up with something as complicated as humanity. There is only one being that ever claimed perfection, and that is God Herself. She did her smiting among her servants, dividing you lot into angels and demons, and then delivered the burden of judgement into my hands. Well, I’ve decided.”

He turned abruptly and sat back in his armchair, holding up a hand to prevent Noah from rejoining him yet.

“I forgive everyone. Dead or alive, angel or demon or human. This is why I died, right? This is why I had spikes driven through my body and a crown of thorns placed on my head. This is why I was tormented and resurrected and given the magic of Heaven, despite my human form. I forgive everyone. Let my sacrifice be for everyone.” He clapped his hands together, the echo ringing off the walls as his voice grew even more resonant. “Empty the halls of Hell, reunite the rest of you in one realm the way you once were. Even if my Mother couldn’t forgive, this is what I was made for, as Uriel so eloquently put it.”

In Aziraphale’s arms, Crowley made a thin croaking noise. Whatever Yusha had done, his words had been palpable. The entire room was bathed lightly in white, barely visible, and once it was gone, the angel felt not unlike when he’d emerged from a deep sleep, Crowley’s arms around him. It was peaceful and whole and calming.

The demon, however, was squirming. “Are you okay?” Aziraphale whispered, tightening his hold.

Crowley looked at him. “Nyeah. I think? That feels strange. My body doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.”

The archangels were exchanging panicked words, and Yusha had snuggled up with Noah again. Aziraphale paid no attention to any of them. On instinct, he reached up to lift Crowley’s glasses briefly, and gasped when he saw warm brown instead of yellow. “Your eyes! What does this mean?”

“Yusha,” Crowley said, anguish in his thin voice as he realized what had happened. “I didn’t want to be an angel again.”

“You aren’t. Of course not. I wouldn’t do that to you, love. You’ve just had the restraints that Heaven put on demons taken off. You have choices now. And safety. No more worrying about that holy water and hellfire nonsense, yeah?”

“Choices,” Crowley repeated softly. He looked at Aziraphale, his glasses still lowered slightly, and then blinked. His eyes returned to their former yellow. “That’s better. I’ve gotten used to that.”

With a hastily repressed sob, Aziraphale kissed him. His demon, who he wouldn’t change in any way for anything. He barely noticed when the archangels stood to leave, their hands metaphorically bound, Yusha sending them back off to Heaven with all his love. He didn’t break the kiss when Muriel said they should go back to their shop, or when Anathema promised to return the next day to let the angel look over Agnes’ book, or when Yusha and Noah bid them both goodnight. When everyone was gone, he miracled the lock on the flat’s door, and carried Crowley to their bed.

Chapter Text

“Angel?” Crowley said, and his voice was soft enough, vulnerable enough, that Aziraphale immediately put down the newspaper he’d been perusing. They were on the garden balcony, cups of tea in front of them, with the smell of flowers all around them in the late days of spring. A lovely morning, a new ritual they both enjoyed indulging in when the weather was right.

“Yes, love?”

There was a reflexive twitch upwards at the corner of Crowley’s mouth that always gave Aziraphale a little thrill. He didn’t even know if Crowley knew it was happening. Either way, he seemed more relaxed as he said, “Could I take you out tonight?”

Wondering why such a simple question could have caused him such distress, Aziraphale said, “That sounds lovely. What do you have in mind?”

“Uh, nrgm, surprise,” Crowley muttered. “If that’s okay.”

In general, Aziraphale was not a fan of surprises. Surprises, historically, involved such things as disapproving archangels showing up at his bookshop to reprimand him. There was a lot of anxiety wrapped up in surprises. This, however, was Crowley, his partner, the love of his life. He wouldn’t do anything to upset Aziraphale. “I trust you,” he said after a few moments.

The sun could not have lit Crowley’s face as much as those words did.

That evening, Aziraphale entered the Bentley still with no idea of the plan. The backseat had a pile of something on one side, hidden under a thick blanket to obscure the shape, keeping him from guessing.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Crowley said pre-emptively. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Just don’t drive too fast, please,” Aziraphale requested.

There was a displeased sigh, but he knew it was all for show. Crowley drove at a perfectly reasonable speed, and soon, they were leaving London behind as the sun slunk lower toward the horizon. Neither of them spoke much, comfortable in the silence that fell between them, letting the Bentley take over with a mixture of classical music and Queen. Aziraphale kept his hand on Crowley’s thigh, gently rubbing his thumb over the muscle there.

Eventually, they turned off the main road, passed a little hamlet nestled into the valley of some low hills, and made their way toward the edge of a wood that was as isolated as Aziraphale had seen in quite some time. It was twilight now, the first few stars popping out across the sky, more than would have been visible in the city. Crowley opened his door for him, the perfect gentleman, and then reached into the backseat to pull that heavy blanket away.

“Take this, angel,” he said, shoving the blanket at Aziraphale before the latter could see what was hiding underneath it. “I’ll get the rest.”

It was only then that he realized that the blanket itself was part of this trip. A ruse, a disguise in plain sight. Crowley was grinning at him, a giant basket in his arms, as he used his hip to close the Bentley’s door.

“Up for an evening picnic?”

“Oh that should have been so obvious, shouldn’t it?” Aziraphale complained, but he was grinning, too, as they found a lovely spot to lay out the spread. Crowley had thought of everything—all the angel’s favorite nibbles, the perfect wines to accompany them, little boxes of sample-sized desserts for after. As Aziraphale bit into a sharp, crumbly slice of cheese, he closed his eyes and hummed. “This reminds me a bit of our picnic in your flat.”

“Are you saying you want to get naked?”

Aziraphale opened one eye and gave him a saucy grin. “Perhaps eventually. I’m rather enjoying the night in its current state at the moment.”

“Don’t let me stop you from enjoying. Still gives me a thrill to watch you eat.”

He let his eye close again. “That’s why you tempted me into it in the first place, I imagine.”

“Ngk.”

Aziraphale grinned. “Tell me—what are we celebrating tonight? Why the surprise?”

When Crowley didn’t answer right away, Aziraphale sat up completely and opened his eyes to pay attention properly. That vulnerable look was back as Crowley cleared his throat and said, “You remember when I asked you on a date the first time? Months ago, before—ngk—when I was still confused how to do all this?”

“And we decided to postpone. Are you saying that this is what you had planned?”

“Not exactly the same, ’course. Was gonna bring you out here, thought we could go flying up in the dark, with the stars out, and we’d come back down, and I’d build a fire, and…” His cheeks were furiously red now. “I’d gotten the supplies for American s’mores. I remembered how much you liked them the first time, and I was going to toast your marshmallows for you over the fire. ’S silly.”

Aziraphale felt warmth gather through all of him, love and gratitude and wanting. “Not silly, my dear. That sounds lovely. Though I must say, the problem with s’mores is how distinctly messy they are! I might have been a bit self-conscious eating them that night. Especially with you watching me.”

Crowley had gone even redder. “I was, hgrm, um, I was going to offer to—to clean your fingers for you.”

The angel froze, not sure he’d heard that correctly.

“Like…with my tongue. My mouth,” Crowley continued. He was staring at the blanket, fingers idly playing with the fabric. “I thought, maybe, it might lead to…”

“For all things holy,” Aziraphale whispered. “Why did we skip that date?”

Crowley shrugged. “Because I was an arse that day. And then we never rescheduled, because that’s the day Muriel revealed your bucket list, and by the end of the night, we were past the finger-licking part of our relationship anyway…”

“I insist that we’re never past the finger-licking part.”

He held out a hand hopefully, but Crowley laughed and took it in his own instead. “Fly with me, angel. No objections. Trust me.”

It was almost full dark now, and they were completely isolated, but Aziraphale still hesitated to open his wings. Crowley stood, pulling him up as well, and manifested those gorgeous black wings that nearly blended into the night sky. “White will stand out like a beacon,” he pointed out.

“Trust me,” Crowley repeated, and with a deep breath, Aziraphale did. He let his wings unfurl into the physical world, stretching them and sweeping them out wide. The demon’s grin was alive and almost painfully happy as he launched into the air, hand still tightly clasped to the angel’s. Aziraphale hastily followed to avoid getting his arm ripped out of the socket.

“That’s what I get for trusting,” Aziraphale muttered under his breath when they reached the height where Crowley stopped.

“No, that’s what you get,” he said, gesturing outward all around them.

It was like a microcosm of the universe. The stars felt so close, the sky blanketed with them. In every direction, hills and forests and rivers flowed, with distant collections of lights to indicate settlements. The air was cooler up here, wind buffeting pleasantly through feathers.

“I’ve been coming here for years,” Crowley said softly as they hovered. “A quiet place to think when things got to be too much for me. The whole area is lightly warded so that humans don’t settle here, don’t think to look upwards, don’t wander in by accident. Nothing so strong that anyone—human or ethereal—will take notice, though.”

“Your own personal Eden,” Aziraphale ventured, and felt his breath hitch at the answering smile.

“Let me show you the boundaries, and then I want you to fly, angel. Fly like you haven’t been able to in millennia. Stretch your wings and enjoy being in the air again. Then we’ll finish our picnic, and if you’re amenable, I’d like to make love to you here under the stars. With our wings still manifested.”

Aziraphale caught him up in a kiss, their limbs tangling awkwardly as they tried to stay afloat this close to each other. “Yes,” he said. “All of that.”

The thick blanket was likely enchanted, Aziraphale thought as he lay on his back, pinned under Crowley’s weight, black feathers blotting out his view of the sky. He couldn’t feel a single rock or twig underneath him, his body as cradled as if he were atop the most luxurious mattress. Crowley’s lips were languid and expressive, unhurried despite the desire that pressed their pelvises together tightly.

They were both still clothed, no longer sweaty or out of breath from their flight, which had gone the way of daring tricks and silly races by the end. Aziraphale had been reminded so much of pre-Fall Crowley that his heart had wrung itself out in gladness to see that simple joy radiating from every part of him. He was so thankful to be shown this place, to share in it, and as his heart swelled, Crowley had sensed the change in his mood. He’d swooped over to tug Aziraphale into an embrace. Their lips had collided, and they spiraled slowly to the ground, where eventually, they’d ended up here, exactly in this position.

Aziraphale’s wings were spread out across the grass. It tickled his feathers in a way that kept him grounded in the moment rather than giving in to desire and rushing things forward. Crowley’s palms cupped his cheeks, and whenever Aziraphale opened his eyes, he found bright yellow staring longingly back at him.

Thank you for changing them back, he wanted to say, but his lips and tongue were rather busy at the moment.

As these things go, however, there was eventually an inevitable click toward more immediacy. Crowley pulsed his wings slightly to shift his position, and the movement caused a live-wire scrape of their erections, only barely muffled through the layers of fabric between them. The sensation shot up Aziraphale’s spine and he arched involuntarily, crying out, hands clawing up from hips to the base of Crowley’s wings.

Feathers were sensitive things, each one connected to a network of nerves that ran down the central spine of the wing. It was not unlike hair, and the sensations they could pull from them ran the same wide spread from acute pleasure to the worst pain. The two of them had never had sex with their wings manifested before, and to their delight, it was like learning all over again.

Too soft, if Aziraphale ran his fingers through the downy fluff. “Grip them, angel. Pull!” And the cries Crowley made when the order was obeyed was worth the risk of causing him true pain. Pretty quickly, Aziraphale found the exact line between too little and too much, and his fingers grew more practiced. He vowed to perfect this, to become the world’s sole expert in this arena, too.

Crowley tugged them up into a seated position, the angel straddling him, and his hands flew over buttons and sleeves as he undressed them both. Each time Aziraphale tried to help, he was ordered to put his fucking fingers back, and he had to bite his lip not to laugh at how quickly the demon was unraveling. Instead, he put his mouth to that long neck, sucking and biting. Trailed down from there to run his tongue along a collarbone and take a nipple between his teeth.

Over his head, Crowley whined. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Aziraphale glanced downwards and saw that Crowley was fully undressed now—there must’ve been some kind of miracle involved with the trousers—his cock hard and leaking and untouched. “My dear, perhaps you may allow me one hand to, ah, help you along?”

Crowley’s own hands were in Aziraphale’s wings, trembling there in an attempt not to pull. The angel didn’t find the sensation quite as erotic, but considering the state of the demon in his arms, he was rather grateful that he could keep his mind clear as he worked. He would get his turn afterwards.

“Or, you could use one of your own hands, if you prefer?” Aziraphale suggested when he got no reply.

“No,” Crowley gasped, his whole body trembling and weak. “Just—just keep fucking touching me like that, bite me, suck on me, put your nails in me, all of it, angel, all of it, just…just…”

He broke off with a cross between a howl and a moan as Aziraphale paired a heavier pull across a few feathers with the nails of his other hand digging into a shoulder blade. Crowley’s pelvis rutted forward, frictionless, and Aziraphale tried to move closer without much success. Frustrated, he deliberately fell backward, trapping the demon’s hands underneath him and meeting his mouth to kiss as finally, finally, their bodies pressed together again. Crowley’s cock landed on the meat of his thigh, surging upward to knock against a hipbone. Within a few thrusts, he was coming, warm, thick liquid coating the space between them and making them slide.

Aziraphale loosened his grip on feathers. They would be overly sensitive now, so he removed his fingers as carefully as possible, causing only a few jerks of Crowley’s body along the way.

“Fuck,” Crowley whined. “Fuck, Aziraphale, I had no idea… How in the universe did you keep yourself so calm through that?”

He laughed softly. “I don’t think I’m sensitive to it the same way, dear. Felt as blissful as when you scrub fingers through my hair, but that’s never been a turn-on for me.”

“When I get my breath back, I’m going to do whatever I can to make you just as satisfied. Anything you want.”

Aziraphale thought this over as the demon recovered. There was one thing he’d never asked for, not knowing how sensitive Crowley might be about the subject. After he’d changed his eyes back, however…

“What is it?” Crowley asked as Aziraphale bit his lip. “I mean it, love. Anything.”

“Promise you won’t if it makes you uncomfortable.” He waited until Crowley gave a reluctant nod, then whispered, “Scales.”

Crowley’s brows drew down. “I…you want…?”

“You have your wings, and your human body, and your demon eyes. I want more. Not just your eyes. All the parts of you. Not everywhere—I want the human parts, too. But I love all of you, every trait, and I want to be able to run my fingers along them, shiny and smooth and beautiful.” He stopped and averted his eyes. “But I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, so if that’s too much—”

The words were cut off by a kiss, and then Crowley’s hands were guiding his to his chest, where he felt thin ribbons of hard, overlapping scales creating patterns over the muscles there.

“Let me see,” he begged, and Crowley pushed up on his hands to create some distance between them.

The scales were a pale and iridescent pearly white with a reddish shine to them. As they climbed over his shoulders and onto his back, they grew darker, so red they became black, widening slightly. Aziraphale’s fingers explored them, his heart thrumming and his body beginning to beg.

“You like them that much?” Crowley asked, sounding both amazed and dubious.

Aziraphale whined in answer, pushing his rock-hard cock up into Crowley’s pelvis. “All of you,” he managed to say. “Want all of you.”

Crowley’s breath hitched. He got onto his knees to free his hands. One went down to wrap around Aziraphale, the other reached between the angel’s legs to do any prep he might need. (None, he quickly discovered. There may or may not have been miracles involved, Aziraphale wouldn’t say. The angel wanted him inside, now.)

“Look at me,” he panted as Crowley worked his way in deep. The words were ragged, fingers tracing scales and avoiding feathers that were sure to be too sensitive still. “Don’t—ah—don’t stop looking at me.”

So Crowley positioned himself in such a way that he could stare down, giving Aziraphale’s hands room to roam over his body. One eventually worked its way to Crowley’s mouth, and the demon understood at once, sucking fingers in and wrapping his tongue around them. He used his wings to leverage his thrusts in deep, more powerful than anything he’d ever given the angel with his body alone, and the resultant cries brought a smile to his thin lips.

Aziraphale was lost to it. The pressure deep inside him. The slick tongue on his fingers. Yellow eyes, black feathers, red scales, pale skin, freckles and curls and a long-fingered hand twisting over him in time with the internal thrusts. Color exploded in front of his eyes as he came, like another universe born across his eyelids, and he whimpered a noise that might have been Crowley’s name.

“Angel?” Crowley said some time later.

The night was pitch black by then, clouds obliterating the previous landscape of stars. “Yes, love?”

“I’m glad we waited for this date. I would’ve liked licking your fingers clean, but this was better.”

Aziraphale smiled into his neck and wrapped more tightly around him. “Mm, yes. It was a perfect date, and a lovely surprise in every way, Crowley. Thank you.”

Crowley grumbled at the praise, but Aziraphale could hear that he was smiling, too.

Chapter Text

It was late June, and the time had finally come for Aziraphale to cross two of the larger items from his bucket list. All the way back in the beginning, Crowley had picked attend a pride parade as one of his first random list items. It hadn’t been possible until now, and Aziraphale took advantage of the occasion to cross off a second, more daunting task as well.

“Angel, let me see!”

Aziraphale gave himself another once-over in the bathroom mirror. “You can’t laugh,” he said for the half-dozenth time.

“M’not gonna laugh! I promise.”

He’d kept some of the costume that Yusha had provided for karaoke ages ago. The rainbow skirt and white tights were perfect, but he’d paired them with a button-down shirt, a dark waistcoat, and a rainbow lapel pin. Crowley had helped him put the ensemble together, but he hadn’t seen Aziraphale since his visit to the hairdresser the previous afternoon. The angel had slept in the guest bedroom—to much demonic grumbling—so that he could make this dramatic reveal.

Assuming he found the nerve to open the door.

“If you’re not happy with…whatever it is, I’m sure we can miracle up something better.” When Aziraphale didn’t respond, Crowley pulled the trump card. “We’re gonna be late…”

With a sigh, Aziraphale opened the door. Crowley’s smile went wide as he took in the new look. All those formerly-white curls had been dyed into an ombré-style rainbow.

“Look at you,” Crowley said, his eyes roving up and down the angel’s body. “You’re gorgeous.”

Aziraphale felt his cheeks flame, and he ducked his head. “Hopefully it blends in today.”

Crowley put an arm around his shoulders. “You’ll be the belle of the ball. No, the prince of the parade!”

“Oh stop that,” Aziraphale said, but he snuggled deeper into Crowley’s embrace as they left the flat and made their way to the rendezvous spot.

Muriel and Noah were already waiting for them. Like Crowley, Noah wasn’t dressed far from his normal wear, but Muriel’s outfit could best be described as a glitter explosion. Their shirt—the least colorful fabric on display—had The Treasure Chest stylized across it in sequins, a not-so-subtle advertisement for the upcoming opening for the new shop.

“You just missed Nina and Maggie,” they said. “I told them we’d all come by for coffee after the parade.”

“Eric will be right back.” Noah waved a hand across the street. “He went in search of beads, I think. And Yusha should be here with Amos any minute.”

Amos was Yusha’s newest follower. Aziraphale had only met him once and he seemed nice enough, but he knew the situation might be rough on Noah. “How’s that going?” he asked quietly.

“Surprisingly well. I don’t feel…forgotten, which is what worried me, and I have to admit, Amos is…sweet.”

From Noah’s averted eyes and bitten-back smile, Aziraphale deduced that a certain amount of sharing was going on. “As long as you’re happy,” he said, and Noah squeezed his hand briefly.

“How are things going on the Upstairs front?” Crowley asked Muriel.

They snorted. “Pure chaos. I finally visited in person, and it’s like Yusha literally grafted the two realms together. Imagine Heaven’s long white halls, only now with physical walls and plenty of shadows and grime. Not quite Heaven, not quite Hell. There’s a joint council trying to figure out how to organize everyone and everything. Glad I’m assigned here!”

“Same, angel,” Eric said, popping in from nowhere with armloads of cheap rainbow beaded necklaces. As he handed them around, he added, “I need to thank Yusha when he gets here. I had a visit from Dagon the other day. Not sure how they got it into their head that I was involved with all this, given I wasn’t even there when Yusha made the changes. Anyway. They tried to discorporate me, and the miracle just bounced off. Nearly hit them instead.”

He grinned, and Muriel took his hand. “Oh good, that’s one less thing for you to worry about!”

And indeed, Eric’s expression remained far more relaxed than Aziraphale had ever seen it.

The parade had almost started by the time Yusha appeared. He was dressed in full drag, and Amos—being pulled along by the hand—smiled up at him, completely besotted. When they reached the group, Yusha let go of him to swoop in and kiss Noah, miraculously leaving behind no trace of his lipstick.

Aziraphale leaned over to whisper in Crowley’s ear. “I think he’s going to be the belle of the ball, actually.”

Crowley laughed, and though Aziraphale was almost certain that Yusha couldn’t have heard him, the Son of God looked over and winked.

“Oh darling,” Yusha said. “You look phenomenal! Please tell me you’ll keep your hair like this?”

Aziraphale ran his fingers self-consciously through the dyed curls. “Depends on if I can get used to it. It’s been ages since I last changed my hair.”

Crowley smirked at him. Only a week ago, he’d threatened to go the mullet route with his currently-lengthening locks. The angel was not one to judge his partner’s ever-changing styles, but he had pointed out how much less hair there would be to pull with that kind of cut. So far, the demon hadn’t followed through with the threat.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Muriel cried as the mulling crowds of attendees began to shuffle into something more organized.

Grinning, Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand. He was no stranger to Pride and had often had participants and attendees in his shop both before and after the bulk of festivities. A few years before the Armageddon-that-wasn’t, Crowley had caught him looking wistfully out his windows at a few rainbow-clad university students as they passed by.

“Why not join them?” he’d asked curiously, and Aziraphale had shaken his head.

“That’s their community. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Crowley had scoffed, but he hadn’t pushed. And now, they were here. Joining this community. Claiming it as their own.

Yusha walked in front of them in his high stiletto heels, Noah and Amos on either arm. Muriel skipped around them as much as the close crowd permitted, often simply bouncing in place. Eric loped alongside the rest of them, giving out his excess bead necklaces to random passersby. Aziraphale beamed at all of it, and when he met Crowley’s eye, he found the softest, fondest gaze there.

“Was gonna wait ’til after,” Crowley said, leaning in close, “but can I give you something?”

“You didn’t need—” the angel began, then closed his mouth at the quirked eyebrow. “Of course, my love.”

From a pocket, Crowley pulled out a small lapel pin. Before Aziraphale could properly see it, it was fastened in place next to his rainbow. A second pin followed, this one joining the rainbow on Crowley’s collar.

Crowley rubbed his nose and mumbled, “Thought, since we were joining in, we could claim our space. Something like that.”

“What do they stand for?” He could see that they were flags. Crowley’s was striped with pink, white, purple, black, and blue. The brief glimpse he’d seen of his own showed a completely different color scheme, something with black and green. Neither flag was familiar to him, but Aziraphale had never been particularly good at keeping current with these sorts of things.

 “Well, um, mine is for being genderfluid. I know it’s not the same, as a demon—”

“Oh, darling, that’s perfect for you!” Aziraphale took the opportunity to kiss his cheek, right where he was lightly blushing. “And mine?”

“Agender. You know, without gender. I had to guess, and you always seemed to me—ngh—but if I’m wrong, tell me and I’ll get you the right one, alright?”

Aziraphale, however, was delighted. He hadn’t even known such a concept existed amongst humans. Not only existed, but had a flag of its own! “I love it,” he said quietly. “They are a marvel, aren’t they?”

“This community? Or the humans in general?”

“Both, really.”

Crowley grinned at him. “They really are, angel.”

Aziraphale tucked himself into the demon’s side as the parade moved slowly forward. It was a beautiful day, and he could feel love all around him. He was overjoyed to be there, to be part of this now—just one more creature at home in a sea of life and celebration and humanity.