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It may or may not surprise you to find out that both angels and demons alike rarely if ever once in history experiment in what is considered to be a human pastime, a side effect of a fleeting presence on a fleeting world: love and sex. It may be necessary for humans to develop the need for these activities, but as many worldly things are, it is considered barbaric, or below them to partake. It may also (or not) surprise you that at some point between the Garden and the present day, both Aziraphale and Crowley have become not complete representations of Heaven or Hell respectively.
Aziraphale has most notably developed a taste for eating things, while Crowley has developed a penchant for sleeping. Neither of these are at all natural for angels or demons either. They might encourage or discourage from them, but never has one before them been curious in trying these things. Maybe it was the simple fact that they were awarded human bodies with which to spend their days. Or maybe the full immersion into human culture reached critical mass. Either way, in celestial terms: they had gone full native.
And of course, mortal affection. You might think that Crowley would immediately be more curious about this topic than Aziraphale would be, but this is untrue. Aziraphale, Angel of the East Gate, was the very first being to witness a kiss between two people. He assumed Adam and Eve came up with this idea themselves, and there begins a fascination with a concept. They did not even understand language, and yet this thing was apparently so terribly important that it was invented with no suggestion. Later, as he would find out, this fascination was shared with most every human who came after. Songs, nations, stories, murder, LIVES were dedicated to human sexuality.
It also just so happened that there was another immortal being on this planet that he knew of. One that seemed to keep popping up at every turn, the kind of poetry that humans were so infatuated with. One that seemed to care greatly despite half-hearted protests. One that sometimes seemed to lean in awfully close as the hours of conversation blend together…
It didn’t take very long at all for Aziraphale to at least become very curious. Crowley is also very attractive, in his opinion. At what point he learned that he could think such things, he isn’t sure.
-----
Crowley was the second being to witness a kiss between two other humans. He was the first to realize that as the centuries went on, the angel was spending more time glancing at his mouth. Now, he wouldn’t be a proper demon if he didn’t take this and run with it, would he?
For Crowley, the same fascination would start with the desire to mess with what is essentially his innate enemy. Flirting was easy enough to pick up. Winking, prodding the angel’s feet with his own underneath tables at lunch. And then eventually he would arrive at the conclusion that Aziraphale is cute when flustered.
The next question, therefore, is “when?”
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1901, A.Z and Fell, A very drunken night.
Crowley and Aziraphale were locked to the worn couch and handcuffed to their glasses of red wine, which mysteriously became empty after some time, necessitating a refill, of course.
“Zzzzzziraaaa.” Crowley giggled. He was pressed into the cushions staring up at Aziraphale and tapping his feet against the floor. Aziraphale maintained a polite straight posture, though he was oft subject to wobbling.
Aziraphale giggled back. “‘S not my name.” His cheeks were glowing red.
“Yesssssssss, it is. It’s in the middle. Ah-ZEE-ra-phale. Do you fancy it?”
Aziraphale glanced at his companion, who was smiling more than he ever possibly could while sober. The dark glasses had been discarded long ago and the striking yellow serpentine eyes Crowley had were on full display. He smirked. “I suppose I do, don’t I? Ahem.” He raised his glass to his mouth in an attempt to drink more wine but was somehow surprised it was empty. “It’s not very angeley-ily.”
“You’re not very angel-y at the moment. It looks like you’ve put on lipstick, ‘Zira.” Aziraphale frowned. “It’s true. You’re drinking wine with a demon.”
“Well, you aren’t very demonly by the same…..same page. Coin.” He turns to squint at Crowley and cackles unbecomingly. “You’ve got on lipstick too!”
“I guess you’re right, then. Cheers to not doing our jobs.” Crowley attempts to drink again as well, and comes across the same predicament; at some point, the entire glass of wine had been consumed. He glances over at the bottle on the side table, which was pathetically tipped over on its side. He shrugged and threw the empty glass on the chair next to him.
“Cheers!” Aziraphale tries his best to set his glass down carefully on the floor, but it topples over softly and rolls underneath the couch. Crowley shifts his back uncomfortably. It takes him a bit of misguided wriggling to realize he’s laying on a book. He pulls it out from behind him and inspects the cover, his lip curled. “‘Courtship for the 19th Century Gentleman?’”
“Mm. That was a donation. I take them all but that one doesn’t fit with the collection. It’s all...” Aziraphale rolls his eyes. “Whishy-washy. I doubt it’s useful for much to anyone.” Crowley shrugs and flips to a random page and starts reading an entry.
To persuade the modern woman, a man must be enterprising. He must be delicate of manner and be cautious in accessory.
It is simple enough to introduce yourself politely to a lady, but be mindful that she cannot and should not initiate love affairs. This is the man’s job, and-
Crowley grunts with disgust and opens the book to another page.
-as well as you can. It is important that in the first stages of courtship, the gentleman asserts his true feelings of love with formal correspondence to the parents and family of the lady of interest.
He glances up at the ceiling briefly before looking back down at the text.
Take this example from a successful courtship between Ms. Mary Taylor and her now husband, Mr. Augustus Taylor.
“I ask of you humbly that you bestow upon me the greatest and most distressing of favors in this time. As you see, I am wholly in love with Ms. Taylor, and the bounds of my affection have no limits. My love for her extends beyond the reaches of the heavens, and I, therefore, intend to stay with her for the rest of my days.”
Crowley smirks. A playful twinkle returns to his eye. “Hey, ‘Zira, you know what?”
Aziraphale was staring at the patchwork on the arm of the couch intensely as if it held answers. “Hm?” He turns his full body towards Crowley, essentially giving him full attention.
“My love for you extends beyond the reaches of the heavens, and I, therefore, intend to stay with you for the rest of my days.” Despite being accompanied with the best smirk he can muster in his drunken state, Aziraphale appears to have been sobered by his sentiment. He stares at him, his pupils still dilated from the hours of drinking. If he wasn’t blushing before, he is now.
“Crowley…” He parts his lips and shakes his head in disbelief. “I didn’t know-Didn’t think that you’d...feel that way. I didn’t, I, rather…Ahem. This is all very sudden.” He brushes off his pants. Something compels Crowley to not interrupt him with the revelation of a tease just yet. The angel makes a motion of tucking hair behind his ear delicately. “I must confess, I have thought the same at times, but truly, in this state, I am ill prepared to deal with such w...words.” He smiles bashfully at Crowley. “But I, yes...Oh, Almighty, I am drunk. Perhaps I should rest and we can-”
He’s interrupted by a flat palm of the hand resting on his head. It’s not very romantic of a gesture, but it seems to work because two seconds later it turns into a kiss. However, it must be noted that neither of them know how to kiss, so instead of becoming a passionate clash of wine-stained lips and teeth as they assumed it would naturally, they both kind of stay there in a chaste peck on the lips. For a minute or two. With their eyes tightly pressed shut, as if they were bracing for impact. Slowly, they both draw away and open their eyes to examine an unchanged living room.
“That’s all?” Aziraphale says with a hint of confusion.
“I know, right? It’s all I hear about. D’you reckon we mucked it up?”
They stare at each other questioningly. Aziraphale starts laughing uncontrollably and that makes Crowley follow suit, until ten minutes pass and both are completely out of breath, and a little bit more sobered than they were.
Crowley sits up from his slouched position on their couch. He looks down to the sofa patterning nonchalantly. “You know, there’s always trying aga-”
“Oh, hush, dear, tomorrow if you please.”
“And the day after tomorrow, if you also please,” Crowley mutters in a low tone. Aziraphale raises an eyebrow at him.
“Do you want to share this sofa with me tonight or not?” Crowley nods, biting his lip to keep his mouth shut.
“Then go get a blanket from the back room. Actually, two. Big spoon?”
“Big spoon.”
“Deal.” Aziraphale smiles and offers his hand to seal it, which Crowley takes and shakes courteously.
Suffice to say, practice makes perfect. If the year is now the present year, then it stands to posit since that groggy day in the old bookshop they have gotten quite good at it.