Work Text:
On a sunny Monday in London, Crowley makes his way into Aziraphale's library, as he does every day at lunch time. He has a coffee cup in his hand and he’s wearing all black, his ever-present sunglasses, and a pleased grin. He can see Aziraphale through the window, peering at a computer screen through his round glasses, and tries to ignore the insistent happiness spilling in his chest at the sight.
It's probably just indigestion, he lies to himself.
"Your boyfriend is here," Anathema intones as she passes Aziraphale at the reference desk[1] and takes his place.
"My dear Anathema, you know it isn't- hello, Crowley." Aziraphale abandons the first half of his sentence and his work station, far too pleased to see Crowley to bother finishing correcting Anathema.
"Ready?" Crowley asks, and Aziraphale beams at him.
"I thought perhaps Ethiopian today? There's a new place opened just around the corner. Anathema told me all about it and it sounds delightful."
"Sounds good to me. Have we had that before? What was that place we went to?"
"No, my dear, that was Moroccan food. I am excited to find out if they have anything in common in addition to the continent they share."
"Oh, right. Well, lead the way, angel." Crowley sets his coffee down on the reference desk next to Aziraphale’s library ID[2], to all the world looking as though he's ridding himself of trash, and follows Aziraphale.
Anathema shakes her head to herself, watching Crowley watch Aziraphale as they leave the library, a small smile playing on her lips as she takes a sip of the coffee.[3]
For Crowley, the highlight of a meal with Aziraphale is not the food. It's watching Aziraphale eat. Crowley has never seen anyone enjoy a meal like Aziraphale seems to enjoy every single one. He doesn't stop to take a picture for his Instagram; he just gets to it and savors every bite. Crowley is the opposite. If someone invented a pill that contained all the necessary nutrients to survive, Crowley would happily eat those alone.[4]
He knows it might seem odd that they share so many meals with their different ideas about food, but Aziraphale gets good food, and Crowley gets a concert of Aziraphale making all kinds of delighted noises, so really, it's a win/win for all concerned.
"Do you know, a funny thing happened at work this morning," Aziraphale tells Crowley before taking a bite of azifa and injera and sighing happily under his breath.
"Oh yeah?" Crowley asks, always willing to listen to Aziraphale's stories. He just likes to hear him talk, no matter the subject.
Aziraphale's ears go slightly pink, and Crowley feels a cool creep of dread start in his stomach without really knowing why. Waiting for Aziraphale to finish chewing his food has never taken this long before, Crowley is sure of it.
"Well, I." Aziraphale clears his throat slightly. "I received a dinner invitation. It's, ah- well, to a. A date. They did specifically say, a date."
Ah. The cause of the dread.
Crowley has, in a way, been waiting for this day for years, but in that same kind of way you wait to get hit by a bus. You know it could happen, it sometimes crosses the mind that a bus might in fact hit you one day, but at the same time, you know it’s statistically unlikely, especially if you take care in traffic.
He has lulled himself into a sense of security about Aziraphale. Aziraphale had, during his time in university, come across the concept of asexuality, and told Crowley through some stammering and nerves but also apparent happy relief that he felt it applied to him.[5] Crowley may be quite ridiculously in love with him, but Aziraphale's lack of interest in any of it has meant Crowley will never have to own up to it. All they will ever be is friends, but no one will take Aziraphale away from Crowley, either.
But as it turns out, Crowley is and quite clearly has been wrong about at least some part of it and possibly all of it, because now Aziraphale has been asked out on a date, and probably by some jackass who actually reads books and doesn't enjoy riling Aziraphale up by saying that the movie was better.[6]
All of this crashes into Crowley's head in a fraction of a second, before he downs his drink[7] and tries to regain his cool. "Really? I didn't think you went in for that kind of thing."
"Of course I did politely decline, seeing how-" Aziraphale starts to say at the same time and then stops and frowns curiously at Crowley. "Crowley? What do you mean, that kind of thing?"
Crowley is firmly strapped into a rollercoaster of relief and confusion. "Y'know, romance and dates and things. You're asexual. I remember you telling me, it took you two whole minutes at least to get the sentence out."
It's taking Aziraphale quite a long time to get a sentence out now. For a moment it looks as though someone has stopped time; Aziraphale is just staring at Crowley with an expression Crowley can't decipher.
"Crowley," he finally gets out, "What exactly do you think we've been about all this time?"
"...?" Crowley says.
"I- well, perhaps I've misunderstood- I thought we've been- Are these not dates? I know we haven't discussed any terms, or... But I did think-"
"..." Crowley is still having a problem with words.
"I am asexual, yes. But I'm also quite- in fact, I very much- Well, I love you, Crowley. I'm- uh- in love with you, as it happens."
Forget about pink ears. Aziraphale's entire face is flushed now. Crowley can't momentarily hear anything, what with all the blood rushing in his ears. Aziraphale loves him.
Crowley is an idiot. "I'm an idiot."
"Oh, my dear, don't say that. We've just had a bit of a problem with communication, that's all." Aziraphale tries to sound reassuring, but his face is doing that thing where it looks like he's passing quite inconvenient gas.
Crowley loves Aziraphale so much it hurts. He always thought that was an exaggeration, but his heart is doing an odd constricting thing and he's smiling so big he thinks his cheeks may develop a cramp.[8] "No, angel, I'm an idiot. And I love you. That's correlation, not causation, by the way. We’ve been dating this whole time?"
Aziraphale looks relieved and fond. "Hardly, if one of us didn't know about it." He looks worried again. "About the- asexuality part."
Crowley makes an impatient noise. As if sex or lackthereof would be a deal breaker, here. It’s Aziraphale. "We already haven't been having sex all these years, angel. It won't be a problem for me. Promise."
Aziraphale looks cheered. He draws in a deep breath and, as if bracing himself, reaches out and takes Crowley's hand in his.[9]
"Angel?"
"Yes, Crowley?"
"How would you feel about going on a date with me?"
"Lunch tomorrow?" Aziraphale suggests. "We could get crepes."
Crowley returns Aziraphale to work and leaves with a wider grin and a bit more sway to his hips than usual.
"Good lunch?" Anathema asks Aziraphale.
"My dear Anathema," Aziraphale says, watching Crowley disappear behind the corner.
"Mmmm?"
"It was wonderful."