Chapter Text
Crowley spent the next twenty four hours in something of a tizzy. Every time his phone went off, he jumped to answer it, hoping against hope it was Aziraphale. So far, it hadn’t been. In fact, it seemed God was mocking him, because he got several calls from unknown numbers, but they were all telemarketers. They hadn't been Aziraphale, and he’d been short with nearly all of them.
In hindsight, Crowley wondered if he’d done the right thing, clipping a note to the fifty pound tip. What if Aziraphale felt beholden to call him because of the money? What if he called, but he only called because he felt obligated? Christ, that would be terrible. Shit. Had he done the wrong thing? He’d felt certain when he’d written the little note, but now he felt stupid. What should he do?
He thought of trying to hunt down Aziraphale and apologize. There couldn’t be that many booksellers in Soho named Aziraphale, could there? But he dismissed the idea. It would be creepy to hunt him down, and if Aziraphale didn't call, well, that was a pretty clear signal.
Last week, he’d been praying to see Aziraphale again. Now he was still praying to see Aziraphale again, but he was also praying for Aziraphale to call, for him to have not done the wrong thing.
He was sitting at his desk on Friday evening, brooding and staring at his drawing from last night, when his phone rang again. He glanced down to see it was an unknown number and instead of hope, he felt a flash of annoyance. It hadn’t been Aziraphale so far, why would it be now?
Crowley swiped the phone to answer it and brought it to his ear. “Yeah?” he snapped.
“Um, yes. Hello. My name is Aziraphale Fell, and I’m looking for Crowley.”
It felt like ten tons had been lifted off his shoulders, and he broke into a wide smile. “Angel, it’s me.”
“Oh!” Aziraphale said. “Hello.”
“Hello to you,” he said, his smile bright enough to power the city. “How are you?”
“I’m - I’m good. Is this a bad time? You seemed tense when you answered the phone.”
“No, angel, this is a perfect time. I was just snippy because I keep getting calls asking me about extending the warranty on my car. I thought you were them again.”
“No, no. Not me. Although I get those calls too, which is silly, because I don’t even own a car.”
“You don’t?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t. I’ve lived in London all my life, where public transit is widely available. I’ve never seen the need for a car, or to learn to drive.”
“Well, that makes sense.”
“I take it you do own a car?”
“I do, a classic Bentley.”
“My goodness,” Aziraphale said. “How very posh.”
Crowley laughed, delighted. “It's just a car, although she’s my pride and joy, materially speaking.”
“I take it you don’t have a need for an extended warranty?”
“No, not really. She’s vintage, so I doubt I could even use the warranties they’re selling.”
“No, probably not.”
There was a lull in conversation, and Crowley didn’t know how to fill it. He was grinning like a loon, feeling giddy.
“I, um, I talked to Tracy about you,” Aziraphale said.
“You did?”
“Yes, I did.”
“I hope she said nice things.”
“Everything she said was very nice.”
“What did she tell you?” he asked, curious and smiling.
“Not very much, really. She mentioned that you work for the European Space Agency.”
“That's true.”
“How fascinating.”
“Enh, it’s a job. But I also talked to Anathema about you.”
“You - you did?”
“I did. She said you’re a bookshop owner.”
“I am, yes.”
“In Soho?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Do you also live there?”
“I do. I have a flat above my shop.”
“It sounds nice.”
“Well, it’s home. What about you? Where do you live?”
“Mayfair.”
“Ah. I should have expected that, since you drive a Bentley.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Crowley asked, feeling a sliver of alarm. He didn't want to come off as pompous.
“No, I just feel a bit shabby compared to you.”
“Please don’t, angel. I’m not anything to be shy about.”
“Yes, well, so you say,” Aziraphale said. “May I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything you’d like.”
“Why do you call me angel?”
Crowley smiled. Couldn’t help it. “Well, I wasn’t lying. The first time I saw you, I thought you looked like a bloody angel, and that image just stuck in my head. Why? Do you not like it?”
“No, no. I love it, I just… I haven’t had a nickname from anyone in a long, long time. And certainly not one as… flattering as ‘angel’ is.”
“That’s a damn shame,” Crowley said. “You should have lots of people calling you by sweet names, given how sweet you are.”
“What makes you think I’m sweet?”
Crowley grinned. “Just a hunch.”
“Are your hunches usually correct?”
“The ones that really count usually are.”
Aziraphale made a little sound, almost too low to hear, and Crowley strongly suspected he was blushing. He wanted to see it.
“So you asked Tracy about me?” Crowley asked.
“I did. I hope that’s alright.”
“Of course it is. I’m thrilled to hear it. It gives me hope.”
“And you - and you asked Anathema about me?”
“I did. Is that alright?”
“Yes, of course. I’m - I’m flattered. I just don’t know what information she could have had about me, since I’ve only met her twice.”
“Well, she’s friends with Tracy.”
“Ah. Of course. In that case, there’s no telling what you’ve been told.”
Crowley chuckled, then said, “Not much, really. She told me you own a bookshop in Soho and that Tracy had suggested you model to improve your confidence.”
“Yes, those things are true.”
“She also told me what I most wanted to know.”
“What’s that?”
“That you were single, and interested in men.”
“I - yes. That’s true. Both things.”
“Excellent,” Crowley said, dead chuffed. “That’s brilliant.”
“I, um, I confess, I asked Tracy the same thing about you. Whether you were single and interested in men.”
“Well, in case she didn't know to tell you, I’m very single and also very interested in men. One man in particular.”
“That’s essentially what she said,” Aziraphale said, and his voice was smiling.
“It seems as if Anathema and Tracy have been playing matchmaker.”
“It does, indeed. In fact, Tracy admitted that much when I accused her of it.”
“She did?”
“Yes, she did.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
“I’m very happy about that - as long as you are.”
“Angel, nothing has made me happier in a long, long time.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Crowley confirmed with a smile. He just grinned, unable to do anything else.
Aziraphale cleared his throat. “So, about coffee.”
He perked up even more. “Yes?”
“I’m not really a coffee drinker.”
Crowley's heart plummeted through his stomach to the floor. Had he misread everything?
“You’re not?”
“No. I’m more of a tea person.”
He perked up again, just a little. “Oh?”
“I am.”
“Well, I’m not much of a tea drinker, but I have another idea.”
“What’s that?”
“How about dinner, with me?” Crowley asked, his heart pounding in his chest.
“I think I’d love that, dear.”
Crowley punched the air, but tried not to let his excitement show too much in his voice. “Brilliant. Do you have plans tomorrow night?”
“I do not,” came the response.
“Can I take you to dinner? Please?”
“I’d love that.”
“Great. Perfect. Can I pick you up at seven?”
“That would be lovely. My address is 42 Berwick Street, Soho.”
Crowley scrambled to grab his pen and write down the address. “42 Berwick Street. Got it. I’ll be there tomorrow at seven sharp.”
“I’m looking forward to it, dear,” Aziraphale said, and the word ‘dear’ sounded like a caress in Crowley’s ears.
“Great. Perfect. I can’t wait.”
“I’m excited, too.”
“So I’ll see you tomorrow at seven?”
“Yes. I’ll be here.”
“I can’t wait. Talk to you then, angel.”
“Goodnight, Crowley.”
Aziraphale was a nervous wreck Saturday night at a couple of minutes before seven. He’d been in a state all day, and had even closed his shop early, because he’d been so nervous and excited for his date tonight. The change of venue hadn’t really helped much, and he’d been just as nervous in his flat as he’d been at work. Time seemed to be crawling by, and somehow flying at the same time. It didn’t make sense to him, but he didn't have the brainpower to try to puzzle it out.
He wondered for the hundredth time about his clothes. Would they put Crowley off? He knew his style was a bit… outdated, and that was a concern because Crowley seemed to be so stylish and cool. Aziraphale was many things, but he’d never been accused of being cool. Would Crowley take one look at him wearing clothes and turn tail? Oh, heavens, that was a dreadful thought. Logically, realistically, he didn’t think that would really happen, but he still wondered.
There was a knock at the door and Aziraphale jumped, startled. He looked at the clock to see that it was 6:59 - Crowley was right on time. He swallowed hard, smoothed his waistcoat and adjusted his bowtie, then went to the door.
He opened it with a smile, and Crowley smiled back, broadly. Aziraphale wanted to sunbathe in that smile, and felt immense relief that he wasn’t running away.
“Hiya, angel.”
“Hello, dear.”
They stood there for a moment longer, looking at each other, until Crowley shook himself.
“I, um, I brought you something. Two somethings.”
Aziraphale tore his eyes away from his face to see that Crowley was holding a bouquet of roses in one hand and a box in the other hand. His eyes widened.
“You brought me flowers and a gift?”
“Yeah. I hope that’s alright.”
“Yes, it’s fine,” Aziraphale said. “I just… no one has given me flowers in a long time.”
“That’s a shame. If it were up to me, I’d give you flowers all the time. At least once a week.”
Aziraphale flushed, but accepted the flowers. “Thank you, dear. Would you step in for a moment and let me put them in some water?”
“I’d love to, angel.”
Crowley stepped into the lounge and Aziraphale closed the door. “I’ll be back in two shakes,” he said, then took the flowers into the kitchen to dig out a dusty vase from under the sink. When he came back, Crowley was looking at his bookshelves.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s a bit cluttered with books.”
“Well, I’d expect no less from a bookseller,” Crowley replied with a blinding smile.
Aziraphale sat the flowers down on the coffee table, flushing, and Crowley stepped over to offer him the box. “Would you like to open your gift now, or would you like to wait?”
“I think the curiosity may kill me if I try to wait,” he admitted.
Crowley chuckled and handed him the box. “Here, angel. For you.”
Aziraphale sat down with the box on his lap and opened it. Inside was Crowley’s drawing of him, the one with wings, and he’d had it matted.
“Oh, Crowley. I love it so much.”
“It's not really good enough for you, but I did my best.”
“It's more than good enough for me. I love it. I can’t wait to frame it and hang it.”
“Yeah, I have mine hanging on my wall in my office, too. Hung it today.”
“You have one?”
“I do. I made a print. I just wanted to be able to look at you all the time,” Crowley said, a blush staining his cheeks.
Aziraphale felt like he could cry. Perhaps fly. “Well, maybe you could do a self portrait, and I could hang them both so I can look at you all the time, too.”
“I could do that. Or I could just…you know… see you often,” Crowley offered. “I think that would be my choice, if I get a vote.”
Aziraphale smiled. “I think I like that idea, too,” he admitted.
Crowley looked chuffed and bounced a little on the balls of his feet. “Excellent. I like hearing that.” Then he glanced at his watch. “Are you ready? We have reservations at the Ritz in half an hour.”
“The Ritz!”
“Yeah. Is that alright? I wanted to really sweep you off your feet.”
“I - I think the Ritz sounds lovely,” Aziraphale said.
“Perfect,” Crowley replied, then offered his elbow. “Shall we, angel?”
Dinner went well, Crowley thought. It went extremely well, and he spent the entire time they were in the restaurant gazing into Aziraphale’s eyes, getting lost. Aziraphale was the perfect date: he was funny, he was kind, he was clever, and he was interesting. They talked about all sorts of things, and it was the most perfect date Crowley could remember.
When they stepped back out onto the pavement from the Ritz, Crowley was very reluctant to end the date, so he asked, “Say, angel, it’s only 8:30, and it’s still light. Would you like to go for a stroll around the park? We could feed the ducks.”
Aziraphale smiled brilliantly at him. “I think that sounds lovely, darling. Lead the way.”
Darling. Crowley rode the high of that all the way to the park entrance.
“So what do you do for the ESA?” Aziraphale asked, his hand in Crowley’s elbow.
“I’m an astrophysicist, and I work on the exoplanet team.”
“You do?”
“I do, yeah.”
“That sounds fascinating.”
“It’s a fun job,” Crowley said.
“How long have you been doing that?”
“I joined the ESA right out of uni, so close to twenty years.”
“And you just search for planets? Do you get to name them?”
He laughed. “Well, it really is a team effort, but we find new exoplanets every week. And the names are nothing exciting. They’re scientific designations.”
They walked in silence for a minute, then Aziraphale asked, “Do you think there’s life out there?”
“I think it’s impossible that there’s not life out there. The math insists that we’re not alone.”
“Do you think that's a good thing?”
“Oh, I think it’ll be generations before we get an answer to that. Long after you and I are gone.”
“Yes, but it’s a fun thought exercise.”
“Yes, it is fun to think about,” Crowley agreed. “What about your work? What made you open a bookshop?”
“Well, I wanted to be a librarian when I was a child, and actually became one. I worked in a library for several years, but I’d see people check out books and bring them back in horrible shape. So many people didn't care for them at all, and it bothered me terribly. So I opened a bookshop where I could sell the books and tell myself that if people were paying for them, they’d take better care of them.”
Crowley laughed. “Well, I guess that explains that.”
“I know it’s silly and the books I sell are probably treated just as shabbily as the books at the library, perhaps more so, but I feel better lying to myself.”
Crowley chuckled again and brought them to the duck pond. He sought out a vendor and paid for a little bag of duck feed for each of them, and then they went to sit on an open bench. Crowley noticed that Aziraphale was sitting closer than he needed to, and he was thrilled. The proximity was dizzying.
“So what got you into art?” Aziraphale asked.
“It’s a hobby I've always enjoyed. I used to draw all the time when I was a kid. My mum could barely keep me supplied with paper and whatnot.”
“Why didn’t you pursue it as your vocation?”
“I thought about it, but chose science in the end. Science is much harder to pursue as a hobby than art is, if that makes sense. I can take art classes as a scientist, but there aren’t a lot of science classes to take just for fun. Plus there was more money in science.”
“Yes, I suppose I see the logic in that.”
Crowley finished feeding the peas to the ducks and balled up the rubbish. He saw Aziraphale finish too, and the angel lay his hand down on the bench between them. Crowley debated for a moment before he covered Aziraphale’s hand with his. Aziraphale smiled down at their joined hands, then moved them so they were holding hands properly, and Crowley’s heart took flight.
“Is that alright?” he asked, just to be sure.
“Yes, I rather think it is,” Aziraphale said with a smile.
Crowley squeezed his hand and smiled back.
“So what brought you to the life drawing class?”
“Tracy talked me into it.”
“To improve your self esteem?”
“Yes. You see, I was in a relationship that left me feeling a bit... less than.”
“I don’t like hearing that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. It’s your arsehole ex, not you. But angel, I think you’re the most gorgeous creature that ever walked the earth.”
Aziraphale’s cheeks were rosy. “Oh, stop.”
“I’m serious, angel,” Crowley insisted. “You’re absolutely stunning. And I’d like the chance to prove it to you.”
“How would you do that?”
“Well, I’d start by telling you every day,” Crowley said. “Every single day, I’d like to be able to tell you just how beautiful and perfect you are.”
“You hardly know me.”
“That’s true, I guess. But… Have you ever just had a gut feeling about someone?
“I have, yes. About most people.”
“Do you have a gut feeling about me?”
“I - I think you’re wonderful. Someone I’d like to get to know.”
“I feel the same, angel. And I’ll tell you something else.”
“What’s that, dear?”
“I get the feeling that you walking into my life might be the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Aziraphale flushed. “I think the same thing.”
Crowley lifted their joined hands to press a kiss to Aziraphale’s knuckles, then turned back to look out over the water as the sun set, holding hands with an angel, happier than he’d ever been in his life.