Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Crowley set his phone down on the table with a thunk and crossed his arms. He stared at the wall for a few seconds, then huffed, and picked his phone back up. He had done this about 10 times in the past five minutes, and Aziraphale was pretty intentionally ignoring him, buried in a book. 

Crowley scrolled and tapped for about a minute, stared at something on his screen, sighed, and then thunk ed it back onto the table. Aziraphale had quite apparently had enough of this.

“Fine. I’ll bite. What? Why do you keep doing that?” He snapped his book shut and set it down.

Crowley shrugged. “Doing what?”

“Are you-” he pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. “Why do you keep doing that with your phone? Picking it up and putting it down and picking it up and putting it down and picking it u-”

“Ok! Ok! I get it!” He swiped at the air, trying to send the message to his roommate that he could stop talking now. “I was looking at something. Thinking.”

“Thinking?”

“Mhm.”

Aziraphale waited expectantly for Crowley to elaborate, which he did not. “Thinking about what, dear?” The pet name was laden with venom. 

“What? Why are you so pissy all of a sudden?”

Aziraphale shook his head and started reaching for the book, dramatically slowly. “Fine, if you don’t want to tell me-”

He shoved his phone at his friend. “This.”

Aziraphale squinted and grabbed the phone with both hands, bringing it super close to his face. “What am I looking at?”

Crowley picked his mate’s reading glasses off of the table next to them and shoved them jankily onto his face, almost stabbing him in the eye.

“I- ok. Thank you.” He fixed his spectacles so that he could actually see. An Instagram advertisement for a tattoo parlor a few minutes walk away from their flat was on the screen. “Hm. I see. Are you going to get one?”

Crowley shrugged. “I dunno. I’ve wanted one for a while. They’re doing walk-ins today, and I have a bit of cash on me.”

“Well I think you should, then.” He pushed his glasses further up his nose and started to pick up his book again.

Crowley frowned. He really wanted Aziraphale to go with him, but he thought that asking for him to would be the most embarrassing thing in the world. He was hoping he would offer to. “Well, y’know, I’ve never gotten one before.”

He sighed. “Yes, I know. It’s not so bad.”

“Well, I-” his jaw went slack and he turned to Aziraphale, hitting him on the arm to get him to make eye contact with him.

“Ow!”

“That did not hurt. Whatever. You have a tattoo?”

“Hush.” He put a finger to his lips, telling Crowley to shhh . “Are you going to go? You’re through with all of your classes today, yes?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am.” Crowley nodded and turned back to face the wall (they were sitting side by side on the couch), arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Well, what are you doing today?”

Aziraphale hummed lightly as he thought on the question¹. “Well, I was going to propose we watch a movie or you help me cook dinner tonight, but with you out of here, I may do some cleaning, perhaps take a bath, make myself some cupcakes…” he closed his eyes, imagining the delicate taste of vanilla cake.

“Oh. Ok.”

“Is there an issue?” He smirked, just ever so slightly. 

“No, no. Have fun with your cleaning, or whatever. I’m going.” He stood up, waiting to be stopped. “I’m just gonna get my coat.” 

“It’s…” he looked at his phone. “It’s 24 degrees outside. You don’t need a coat.”

Crowley grumbled something unintelligible. “Whatever. Ok, I’m leaving.”

“Wait, Crowley,” Aziraphale called from the sofa.

He grinned. Everything according to plan. “Yes?”

“Will you be back in time for dinner?” he asked, teasingly, barely looking up.

“Oh,” Crowley grunted. “Yeah.” He lingered a second longer, but the person on the couch didn’t so much as glance at him. He sighed and walked out the door.

Once he reached the hallway and the door shut firmly behind him, he started to try and walk to the stairs, but couldn’t convince his feet to move. He grumbled something to himself, stomped his feet childishly on the floor, gave himself a mental pep talk, cursed Aziraphale’s name, and swung the door open with quite a bit of gusto, standing half inside the apartment and half outside of it. “Angel.”

Aziraphale put down his book and turned his attention to the redhead in the doorway, a look of mild satisfaction on his face. “Yes?”

“Are you coming with me?” he asked through his teeth.

He stood up and brushed himself off. “Well, I thought you’d never ask. Off we pop.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say that,” Crowley shot back, fighting off a smile. And then off they popped.

“It’s so lovely out, dearest, can we walk?”

“Dearest” was new. As they advanced down the hall, Crowley felt his face warm all the way to the tips of his ears; Aziraphale had never called him that before. “Ngk. Sure. Whatever. Doesn’t matter to me.”

He clapped his hands together. “Oh, wonderful.” He seemed to brighten, literally and figuratively, as they stepped out into the September sun. It was late enough in the day that it wasn’t directly overhead, but early enough that it cast a pleasant shine over everything. 

Crowley stuffed his hands into his pockets and kind of hunched over – his posture usually bordered on abhorrent, and this was no exception. His slouching habit eliminated an inch or two of the difference in between his and his roommate’s heights². They hit an intersection in the sidewalk after barely a minute, and he confidently started to walk to the right.

“No, no, that-” Aziraphale tried to say, but Crowley apparently wasn’t listening, so he put a hand around his waist. “It’s this way.” He guided him in the right direction.

And Crowley was pretty sure he would combust. “Yep, ok, this is the… that… I was testing you.”

“Sure you were.”

“Shaddup.” He pushed Aziraphale on the shoulder. 

“Oh,” he patted him affectionately on the arm, “did you remember your wallet?”

Crowley pulled it out of his pocket. “Affirmative.”

“ID?”

He fished around in his wallet and produced his drivers license. “Accounted for.”

“Good.”

After shoving the items back into his tiny pocket, he tried to turn the wrong way again.

“Crowley, no. This way.” Aziraphale yanked him by his sleeve, bringing out a surprised yelp in response. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just around this corner, yes?”

“Uh, yeah, I think.” He squinted, the sun in his eyes.

“Oh, if it’s too sunny, you have your glasses, they’re on your head.” He pointed to them.

“I know.”

“Then why-”

“They’re a hair accessory today.” He did this a lot – he used his sunglasses to push his hair out of his eyes when it was being especially unruly. 

“Interesting.” He stuck his finger in the air, remembering something. “Oh, do you know what you’ll get?”

“Hm?” He turned and looked him in the eye. “Oh, right, the tattoo. Yeah, no, I have no idea.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Lovely. Ok.”

As they approached the storefront, Crowley was about to reach for the door handle, but Aziraphale got to it just a second earlier, holding it open for him. 

“Mrph. Thanks.”

"Anytime.” He smiled sickeningly warmly. It made Crowley’s stomach flutter. He cleared his throat as if there was something stuck in it³.

He approached the front desk, where a friendly looking person with curly brown hair was perched on a stool. “Hey, what can I do for you today?”

“Hi, uh, are you, uh, still taking walk-ins for tattoos today?” He frowned, mourning the loss of any eloquence he had before that had apparently fled. 

“We sure are.” They pulled out a clipboard and a pen. “Can I just see your ID?”

“Yeah, yep, of course.” He yanked his wallet back out and fiddled with it, looking through the hodgepodge of cards he had in there. Gift cards, membership cards, rewards cards that he forgot about after one punch, and what have you.

“Crowley, you really ought to organize that. Maybe we should get you a new one,” Aziraphale offered. He had a point -- it was quite the feat for Crowley to have lost his license in the 5-10 minutes or so since he had last taken it out.

“Piss off.”

“Alright then.” He clasped his hands together in front of him.

The person behind the counter chuckled. “Take your time. You guys are a hoot.” They pointed at Aziraphale with their pen. “Are you getting anything today?”

He put his palms up, parallel to the wall, in front of him. “Oh, not today, thank you. But you may see me in here at some point.”

“I certainly hope so,” they chimed.

Crowley finally found his driver's license. “Here, here it is.” He passed it to the receptionist, who looked at it, and copied down his full legal name and birthday before passing it back.

“What were we thinking of getting today?” they asked, a smile on their face.

“Oh, I, uh, I actually don’t know.” 

“That’s fine, no problem, you guys can go ahead and sit over there while your artist finishes up with the person she’s working on now, and you take these,” they handed Crowley the clipboard, which had several papers on it which needed signing, “and there’s some books over there you can look through for ideas. Let me know when you figure out what you’d like.”

“Will do, thanks.” He took the board and stalked away, following Aziraphale, who was already en route to the sofa. 

Once the blonde in question settled in a seat, he picked up one of the art books on the side table and started flipping through it. “Do you have any ideas yet? Any clue what you may want?”

“Hm.” He picked up one of the albums as well. “Not really.”

“Ooh,” Aziraphale chirped, “look at these flowers. Aren’t they lovely?”

He glanced over. “Oh, yeah, actually, those are nice.” He resumed his search in his own binder, pausing when he stumbled upon a page of zodiac themed designs. He pointed to one that was a simple scorpion surrounded by stars. “What do you think of this?”

“It’s nice. But you… you aren’t a scorpio.” He tilted his head in confusion.

“Well, yeah, but, ‘s cool, isn’t it? It can just be-”

“Crowley.”

“Yeah, I’ll pick something else.”

Aziraphale laughed softly.

“Well the gemini one is stupid, so I guess these are out.” He sighed and flipped a few more pages. “Look at the, like, old timey sailor hearts. I like those.”

“Hm, not a bad idea. I think that would suit you.” He traced the tip of his pointer finger over a few of the designs. “What would you get written on it?”

Crowley scrunched his face. “Oh. Uh, good question. I dunno. I’ll just… ok.” He kept scanning. “Hey, wait.”

“Hm?”

“You have a tattoo.”

Aziraphale sighed lightly and turned his full attention to the person on the loveseat next to him. “That I do.”

“What is it?”

Without saying anything, he started to push up the hem of the right leg of his shorts, and Crowley felt his breath catch in the back of his mouth. “Here, there it is.” It was a crescent moon, one with a face, and quite a lovely side profile.

Crowley, involuntarily, found himself reaching out to touch it, then caught himself. “Sorry.”

“No, go ahead.” If he didn’t know better, he would think he saw Aziraphale’s cheeks take on a bit of pink.

He gulped, and then extended his lithe fingers to grace over the gentle black lines that made up the tattoo. It was just black ink, with some basic shading to denote some small craters and establish her features. His index finger traced over the outline of the thing, then her nose, and her lips, treating each part with tenderness⁴. “Hm,” he said simply, reluctantly pulling his hand away.

After several more minutes of searching, the pair was approached by a woman with dark hair and an eyebrow piercing. “Are you looking to get tattooed today?” she asked.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, ‘s me. Hi.” He waved meekly.

“Nice to meet you. Do you know what you want? If you’ve picked, I can make your stencil and start getting set up.” She smiled welcomingly.

“Uh, hm, uh, let me just…” he pointed to an image on the page that the book in his lap was open to and looked at Aziraphale, seeking approval. Aziraphale placed a hand on Crowley’s forearm, grinned from ear to ear, and nodded. “Yep, this one, then.” He held it towards the artist.

“Alright, I’ll get that made right up for you. I’ll be ready for you in a bit.” She removed the paper with the design on it from its protective plastic sheet. “Is it your first time?” she asked as she put the book back on the table. 

“Oh, uh, yeah. It is. How could you tell?”

“Don’t be nervous,” she said, “I’ll go easy on ya. Oh, and you can bring your boyfriend along, if you’d like.”

“I-” Crowley started to protest.

“Thank you, you’ve been very helpful,” Aziraphale interjected, diverting the subject, cheeks burning.

“Just doin’ my job.” She chuckled. “Give me a few to set up, I’ll come getcha soon.” She swayed off into a room down a hallway.

Crowley clasped his hands firmly in his hands and stared at them, bouncing his knee rapidly.

Aziraphale placed his hand on it to try to calm it. “It’ll be alright, it’s not so bad. Where will you get it?”

“My arm, I think? The left one? Between my elbow and my shoulder.” He pointed to the area he was describing. “What do you think?”

“I think that would be great.”

Not too long later, the artist with the dark hair re-emerged. “Alright, come on back, I’m ready for ya.”

Crowley nodded and followed her into the room. She directed him to sit down in her chair, which he did, and she pulled a stool over next to it for Aziraphale to sit on, which they both appreciated. 

The blonde leaned a bit closer to his friend. “Crowley, are you-”

“Yes. I’m fine.” It was true, he was.

Then he got a glimpse of the artist’s needle.

He grabbed tightly onto Aziraphale’s arm. He broke Crowley’s death grip to rearrange them a bit and slot their hands together instead. “You’ll be alright, I’m here.”

“Ok, where are we wanting this?” the raven-haired woman asked.

He nudged up his tee shirt sleeve and drew a circle with his fingertip around the desired area.

“Got it.” She transferred the stencil she had made to his skin. “Ok, ready?”

He gulped. Aziraphale squeezed his hand, and he summoned up the courage to nod. The artist got to work.

…

“Ok, you can go ahead and take any pictures you want now, and then I’ll wrap it up for you,” the tattooist said as she cleaned up her station.

Crowley admired his new ink in the mirror before him – a gardenia flower with a black snake wrapped around the stem of it. No colors, he wanted to stay simple this time around. It was just how he pictured it. He loved it. He whipped his phone out of his back pocket and snapped a quick picture of his arm, and then yanked Aziraphale over to get a mirror pic of both of them⁵. “It’s perfect. Thanks.”

“Of course. And if you ever want another one…” she slipped him a card with a name, Instagram handle, and phone number on it. Rachel. He would remember that. And then, a certain word on the card caught his eye.

“Piercer?” he asked.

“Hm?” Rachel answered, turning to look at him. “Oh, yeah, I do piercings too.”

“Any room for walk-ins today?”

“Pardon?” Aziraphale borderline shouted.

She chuckled. “Why, are you gonna get one?”

“I might.” He shrugged. “Decided not to be scared of needles anymore. And y’know, when in Rome, or, uh, well, this isn’t actually Rome, but you know what I mean.” He was smacking his forehead with his palm in his head. 

“If you’re game, I’m game.” She was smiling widely. “What were you thinking?”

“Septum,” Crowley said, pointing at his nose.

Aziraphale hummed. “Oh, yes, that would look good on you.”

“Alright, let’s do it,” Rachel confirmed.

…

“Ok, ready?” The jewelry had been picked, Crowley was back in his chair, and he was holding Aziraphale’s hand again. And Rachel was menacingly standing over him with a needle.

He closed his eyes tightly. “Yes. Do it.”
“Ok, here we go.” She clamped some tool that he didn’t see around his septum. “One… two… and we’re done.”

He opened his eyes and sat up a little. “Oh, ok, that wasn’t so bad.”
“Ah ah.” She waggled her finger at him. “Sorry, still have to put the ring in. Just another second.”
“Alright, that can’t be too-” he squeaked in pain as the silver metal passed into his nose. He felt like he was going to cry and sneeze and fall over and die all at once. 

“There, now we’re really done. Let’s get you checked out.”

After he had paid and said his goodbyes to Rachel, he exited the shop, and leaned affectionately on Aziraphale. “I think this could become an obsession of mine.”

“Really? I’m glad you liked it.” He glanced at the bit of black ink that was poking out from under Crowley’s sleeve. “It’s really very pretty.

"Ngk. Thanks.” Tears were welling in his eyes. He went to scratch his nose, bumping his new jewelry in the process, and yelped from the shock again. 

“Oh, my dear…” he cupped his palm around his companion’s cheek and wiped a tear away with his thumb. “I’ll take you for coffee, yes? Will that help?”

Crowley sniffled and smiled. “Yeah, I think it will. If you buy.”

Aziraphale laughed as they started walking again. “Of course, of course.”

1. He wasn’t actually trying to consider his plans, he was, rather, trying to figure out what answer he could give to annoy Crowley the most. He was bright, he knew what his roommate was trying to do, and now Aziraphale was determined to make him straight up ask for it. ^{[go back]}
2. 6’2” and 5’10”. Respectively, of course, and only when they’re both actually standing up straight. ^{[go back]}
3. Other than the words that were metaphorically stuck there. ^{[go back]}
4. Aziraphale nearly stopped breathing. ^{[go back]}
5. Not doing anything to allay the dating allegations. ^{[go back]}