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It was four AM on a Saturday morning and Ezra Fell was standing outside the flashing sign of a fast food restaurant.
This wasn’t normal for him. In fact, Ezra couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually been to a proper fast food joint. He liked more...expensive things, or as expensive as his meagre student budget would allow. Well, he liked food that tasted like real food, none of the processed, fake stuff that you could just tell was from an American franchise. But Crowley had a craving, and when he had a craving it had to be satisfied in the most spontaneous, dramatic way possible.
The redhead wasn’t a big eater, which Ezra surmised was the reason for his narrow, slender figure. When he was in the mood for food, however, it was usually the unhealthiest, greasiest junk he could get his hands on. They’d both been pulling all-nighters when Crowley called Ezra up. “Angel, it’s time.”
“Time for what?”
“Chow,” Crowley said dramatically. “We kept putting off going ever since it opened in town. Every wanker on campus has tried it but us!”
Ezra had tutted, “Crowley, you know how terrible that stuff is for you. Why, the food isn’t real food—“
“Tha’s cause it’s not food, it’s Chow,” Crowley whined. “Besides, the chicken’s real. Hastur told me as much. Bastard described them in absolutely juicy detail. And I need that crispy fried nonsense inside of me as soon! As! Possible!” Ezra could hear him smacking the palm of his hand on the wall next to him.
“You could always get some delivered,” Ezra had said, helpfully.
“No, no no no that won’t do! It’s gotta be hot and fresh.” The sound of bedsprings squealing, keys jangling. “C’mon, I’m doing a 4 am Chow run and you’re coming with me!”
Well, how could Ezra say no.
Crowley had been waiting for this moment since it was announced that a Chow branch was opening in their city— to cater, no doubt, to the ravenous and mostly-penniless students that made up most of its consumer population. It was all very well for Ezra, who was game to try new things for Crowley, but as he heard the door to the Civic slam and Crowley saunter round to join him, whistling a merry tune, he couldn’t help but recall the, er, intervention (yes, that’s what it was, dammit) his roommates had held for him not a week ago.
“We need to have a talk about your boyfriend.”
Ezra had been reading, comfortably, in the lounge, when his blissful solitude was rudely interrupted by Gabe and Sandy suddenly plopping themselves in front of him. Gabe even slid a Thai take-out menu over Ezra’s book to make him look up. He’d snapped his book shut, trapping the menu between the pages and nearly trapping Gabe’s fingers, too. “What about my boyfriend?”
Gabe had steepled his fingers and pressed them to his lips as if genuinely concerned. “This Crowley. Are you, like, really sure about him?”
“What on Earth is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, you don’t exactly...match.”
“You two are worlds different,” Sandy had said.
“You see, I’ve been asking around campus, and Crowley has...a bit of a reputation,” Gabe continued.
Ezra stared. “You what?”
“Well you have to understand, we were concerned,” Sandy said. “And I guess we weren’t wrong.”
“Yeah, from what we’ve heard, he sounds like a guy who doesn’t take anything seriously,” Gabe had said. “Not his studies, not his future...not his, uh, relationships.”
“Even you can see that you’re wildly incompatible,” Sandy had said, shaking his head. “I mean, you used to have standards. Before the rough patches with your other boyfriends, that is.”
“And we like that you’re getting back into dating again!” Gabe had added, encouragingly. “But we just want to make sure you’re getting back into it with the right people.”
“People who are more...on your level.”
“People you can trust.”
“Who don’t look capable of committing a crime at any second.”
“Yeah, listen, Ezra,” Gabe had said, putting an arm around Ezra’s shoulders (in what he thought was a brotherly sort of way, but which only made Ezra balk in disgust) “Sandy and I, we know trouble when we see it. And we just wanna make sure you don’t get into any trouble.”
“Or get led on,” Sandy had added.
“Right. It’s a thing with you, isn’t it? Mr. Ezra Fell-For-It-Again, the poor sod screwed over by his latest—“
“Shut up.” Ezra shoved Gabe away, not roughly, but in a way that meant he wasn’t playing around. “That’s quite enough from you both. What do you suddenly care about who I date?”
Gabe had actually laughed at this, low and hearty and ridiculing. “Hey, calm down, buddy. Like I said, we’re only trying to look out for you.”
“I can look out for myself just fine.”
“Mm,” Gabe had said, unconvinced. “Just try to see it from our perspective. There’s Crowley...and then there’s you.” He shook his head, making an uneasy face. “Really.”
“Really, what?”
“Well, what do you think he sees in you?” Sandy had asked, matter-of-factly. “It can’t be because you have a great deal in common.”
“Seems more like he’s just playing around,” added Gabe.
Ezra had tried to keep his calm. “Now why would that be?”
Sandy shrugged. “Because he’s bored, and you make it easy?”
That had been too much. Ezra had stormed into the kitchen and he’d made himself an angry cup of tea, and then he’d slammed the door to his tiny room and the windows had rattled.
He hadn’t spoken to his housemates for the rest of the week.
And then Saturday rolled around, and Crowley had picked him up before the sun even had a chance to stir, and now Ezra was standing here with him, carrying the doubt into a newly-opened fast food restaurant.
“Oh my God, Angel, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this!” Crowley slammed the door of the Civic and came sauntering round to join Ezra. “And look at that! Not a line in sight. Well, more for us, then!” he yelled in the direction of the nearest dorm building.
“Crowley, it’s four in the morning,” Ezra hissed, but his mind was elsewhere.
Crowley grabbed his arm. “C’mon. I’m about to change your life, and nobody is going to take this moment away from us!”
He was right. Tonight was special, and there was no way even his mean, gaslighting housemates would ruin it for them. So Ezra smiled, and nodded, and let Crowley lead him into the shop, and for a few glorious minutes— standing in front of the menu screens, choosing carb-loaded American sides to pair with manufactured American meat, adding a generous order of milkshakes alongside it, holding Crowley’s hand as he paid for everything— things were perfect. Not a shred of doubt.
And then they went back out with their food because Crowley, for once, had it all planned out, and he wanted to eat in the privacy of the Civic out in the empty parking lot (“Just you, me, Freddie and the fried chicken. Would you like that, Angel?”) and it all came rushing back, forming a pit in Ezra’s stomach as the brisk, almost-winter wind hit his face.
All in a moment Ezra found himself hating Anthony J Crowley, and loving Anthony J Crowley, and hoping so desperately for things to work out between him and Anthony J Crowley, and wanting to know for sure if they would, if only to save himself the familiar heartache. He thought he’d become pretty good at knowing what Crowley was thinking, or what he needed, just by looking at the redhead; but what if he hadn’t? What if he was being fooled again, and this was all too good to be true, and at any moment Crowley would turn around and change his mind about Ezra?
“Ezra, c’mon! Let’s get going before the food gets cold!”
He grabbed the blond’s hand again, but Ezra pulled it away.
“Crowley?” he said, voice shaking in the cold air. “I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to answer me honestly.”
The glaring white of the neon ‘CHOW’ sign blinked in the reflection of Crowley’s glasses. “Yeah, what is it?”
Ezra took a deep breath. “Does this feel right to you?”
“Does what feel right?” said Crowley, although a part of him felt, resignedly, like he already knew.
“This. Us,” said Ezra. “Me. Do you honestly think we- we fit together?”
“What?” Crowley said, vulnerably. He would have dropped his fries-that-had-never-seen-a-potato if he hadn’t waited so bloody long to get them. “Yeah, Angel, of course. This is- this is the first right thing I’ve felt in a long time.”
“But do you ever think you could do better?” Ezra really wanted to fiddle with the hem of his waistcoat, it always helped him calm down. He settled for rubbing his finger along the folded crease on the side of the paper bag he was carrying.
“‘Do better’? What’s going on?” Crowley took a step toward him, arms laden with their take-away. “What’s got you thinking about this all of a sudden?”
“Well, you know, I just— I was thinking about us. How we’re so different. You are so perfect and confident and, well, you. And I’m- I’m so very me,” Ezra said, resignedly. “I’m barely cool enough or fun enough, and I’m a slow mover, and I’m not, you know, like you, hip and interesting and sexy—“
“Oi,” snapped Crowley. “Shut it. You’re the sexiest thing on campus, Ezra Fell, and you better believe it.” He paused. “Please don’t tell me it’s because of those wankers you live with.”
“Well, I—“
“Aw, honey,” Crowley groaned. “What’d they say? What’d that piss-stain Gabe tell you that’s got you like this?”
Shit, his boyfriend was good. Most people didn’t think he paid attention to anything, but when it came to the important stuff, Crowley always saw right through.
Ezra sighed. “They just...they just heard things about you, I suppose. They wanted to know if you were for real, not playing around, you know? Because after all, there would be no genuine reason why someone like you would go for someone like me—“
“Oh,” said Crowley in a small voice. “But I’m not...like that, anymore. Wasn’t ever really like that, actually.”
“Yeah, you told me,” Ezra mumbled. When they’d first started going out, Crowley had confided that he’d always hoped for a serious, lasting relationship. He’d just never met anyone who felt the same way. Somehow it just got easier for Crowley to play around rather than trust someone and get hurt— although Ezra knew that he still ended up getting hurt anyway.
“And you believe me, right?” Crowley moved even closer. “Ezra, I- I could never lead someone like you on. You are so worth risking getting hurt for, you know that? Except I guess- I guess could tell from the moment I met you, that you wouldn’t ever hurt me. That’s why we’re together. So please...I really don’t want you to doubt me, babe, just as much as I don’t want to let you down.”
Ezra frowned. “What if I’m not enough?”
“You’re more than enough.”
“What if I’m too much?”
“You could never be too much,” Crowley said, his voice now sounding thoroughly broken. “That isn’t you talking, Ezra. That’s someone else getting in your head. Making you doubt yourself.”
“Maybe.” The glare of the neon lights splintered even further in Ezra’s vision as tears formed in his eyes.
“Don’t listen to them,” Crowley said. He dropped his voice to a low, pleading whisper. “Listen to me.”
Ezra nodded. “All right, dear.”
“And don’t- try not to give a shit about what we look like on the outside. Whether or not we look like we fit. We know we fit, right?”
“Right,” said Ezra, half-sobbing. “I’m sorry. I’m being foolish.”
“Ngah,” Crowley said. “‘S all right. Now can we please get going before this chicken gets freeze-dried well enough to ship back to the States?”
Ezra chuckled, and sniffed. “Of course.”
Crowley moved closer, shifting the bag in his arms so Ezra could access just enough of his shoulder to count as a hug. “C’mere.”
It was warm in the Civic, and the sky was going a gentle shade of lavender as the sun started coming up. Crowley turned the heat on full-blast and fed Ezra his very first bite of Chow fried chicken, and he was right— it was a life-changing experience.
“I have no idea how something so obviously fake can taste real,” Ezra exclaimed.
“Hastur was right after all!” chuckled Crowley. “Chicken’s the only real thing. The pickles are obviously artificial. And that milkshake. There’s something about that milkshake and I have no idea what...”
I like who I am when I’m with you, Ezra suddenly thought, watching Crowley lick the grease off his elegant fingers. I like who you become when you’re with me. Has anyone else ever seen you this happy? Does anyone know this is what you look like when you’re not pretending to be so cool?
“I love you,” he blurted out. “You know that, right?”
And Crowley set his cardboard container down, and blinked at Ezra through the tint of his sunglasses, and a small smile crept across his face. “Y-yeah?”
Ezra nodded, unsure of what else to say. “Yeah. I do.”
“I love you too,” Crowley said, and seemed surprised at how easy it was for him to say it.
They smiled at each other, then Ezra passed Crowley a packet of wipes, and Crowley said “Oh, yeah” and cleaned his hands up, and then he took his glasses off and said “You really gotta find better housemates, Angel.”
Ezra chuckled. “Afraid I can’t simply kick them out.”
“Then you move out. Find somewhere to live where the roomies aren’t total knobs. Hell, you can stay at my place, if you like. ”
Ezra stared. “Really?”
“Yeah.” And then Crowley’s eyes went wide, “What, is that going too fast? Never mind—“
“No,” Ezra said quickly, “no, actually I would love that!”
“You would?”
“I think that would be marvellous,” Ezra blurted out. “But I-I have a better idea. Why don’t we move out someplace else? Someplace, well, our own-ish?”
Crowley made a noise that actually sounded like a whimper of glee. “You really want to do that, Angel?”
Now here was something Ezra always wished more people knew about him: it was always hard for him to ask for what he wanted. He’d learned, fairly early on in life, really, that just because you wanted something didn’t mean you should have it, and if you already had enough, what made you think you ought to ask for more? It was just easier to not ask for things, that way you would never get disappointed. But that was starting to change with Crowley in his life.
He made him believe that he deserved everything. Most importantly, Crowley made him brave.
“Yeah,” he said resolutely. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
He didn’t think he’d ever forget the look on Crowley’s face, then.
“Okay,” was all Crowley said, barely able to contain his excitement. “Anything you want, Angel. We’ll find a place to rent, somewhere we can both afford— which should be fine if we pool our resources, such as they are— and we can- we can start looking next weekend and try to move when we get back from the holidays— or, I dunno, we can skip going home this year and spend it at the new place—“
Crowley seemed rather undeterred by the fact that Ezra had now put his food on the dashboard and clambered over the space between them, settling into Crowley’s lap. “It’s gotta be big enough for your books, and all my plant cuttings, and I guess we should decide who gets to bring whose coffeemaker, I think yours is more expensive than mine...”
“Yes, dear, whatever you like,” Ezra murmured, kissing Crowley’s neck. He was rewarded by the redhead arching his back reflexively.
“It’s gonna be great,” squeaked Crowley, as Ezra nipped his earlobe.
“It’s gonna be tickety-boo,” agreed Ezra. “I have a really good feeling about this.”
He felt Crowley’s arms encircle him and they snuggled close against each other, pieces of an ineffable puzzle finally locking into place in a small red car in a parking lot, smelling strongly of deep fried junk food. Ezra shut his eyes.
Crowley was right.
They did fit together. Perfectly.
And as far as he was concerned, Gabe and Sandy could suck it.