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Aziraphale was not the type of man who frequented pubs or bars, and he never had been. And if he were the type of man to frequent a pub, he doubted he would choose one named ‘The Dirty Donkey’ of his own free will. But that’s where he was on this Saturday night, sitting at the bar of this little establishment, sipping some sub-par wine, wondering just how he’d gotten here.
Well, that was simple. He knew how he’d gotten here. His dear friend, Anathema, had met a man over some dating website or app (the name of which eluded him - he was relatively hopeless with technology) and they’d agreed to meet here tonight. But Anathema had asked Aziraphale to come observe unobtrusively so he could step in if things started to go poorly for her. Part of him had wanted to say no, but the very thought of Anathema being stuck on a date with a dud of a man - or worse, some sort of creep - had convinced him to do as she asked and come keep watch over her. She’d squealed and called him her guardian angel, then hugged him til he’d lost his breath. He’d decided in that moment that her joy was worth any misery he’d endure.
But now that he was actually enduring said misery, he was wondering about that. He’d been here for about thirty minutes and was well past ready to flee like his pants were on fire. His job was to keep an eye on Anathema, but he had to be covert - he couldn’t watch her intently and continuously, lest he seem like a creep. He didn’t particularly want to get involved in a conversation with anyone else - not that any of the people he saw looked like the type who would give him the time of day. Honestly, he was wishing he’d brought a book. That would keep him entertained.
Perhaps he could entertain himself, he thought. Lots of folks enjoyed people watching, maybe he could give it a try. Right, he thought. Where to begin.
His eyes landed on a man on the opposite side of the bar who looked to be a few years younger than Aziraphale in age, but quite a bit older than Aziraphale in presence. He looked worn down and haggard, and Aziraphale imagined that he must have one of those jobs that sucks out your very soul. There was a flash of a wedding band on his finger, and Aziraphale imagined that he must also have a wife at home who was probably a nag, and he came to this bar to drink his problems away, perhaps gain a little liquid courage before he went home to face her. Aziraphale named the man Reginald in his mind, and with the story he’d just given him, gave him a pitying look.
There was another woman who looked to be about Anathema’s age, and although she was dressed in appropriate clothes to be in a pub on a Saturday night, she had the bearing of a member of the nobility. Aziraphale rather thought she’d have been much more at home in one of his regency novels, and decided that she was -
“Well, hello there,” he heard, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Aziraphale looked up to see a red-haired man standing near him, about his age, and breathtakingly good looking. He was dressed in black boots, skin tight black jeans, with a black shirt that was covered by a black leather jacket, and his (frankly gorgeous) face was partially covered by sunglasses. Aziraphale felt his mouth go dry. How had he not noticed this man? His little game was completely forgotten - he couldn’t make a judgement. He was too busy being attracted.
His mind was racing, his mouth was a little o, and the ginger man’s grin was growing, like he was pleased by Aziraphale’s speechlessness and what it meant. “Cat got your tongue, angel?”
“An- ahem,” Aziraphale cleared his throat when his voice came out a squeak. “Angel?”
The red haired man gave a one shoulder shrug. “Seemed fitting. I’m Crowley,” he said, extending one hand for Aziraphale to shake.
Aziraphale looked at it for a minute, stunned that he was going to be allowed to touch a creature as beautiful as this man. Then he extended his hand to shake, and God help him, he felt something like a pulse of electricity when their hands touched. It made his heart race. “I’m Aziraphale.”
“Aziraphale. That’s a mouthful.”
“Ah, yes. Yes, it is. My parents were religious scholars.”
Crowley grinned bigger. “So calling you ‘angel’ wasn’t off the mark, huh?”
Aziraphale flushed a little. “No, I suppose not.”
“Well hot damn,” Crowley said, looking like the cat that got the cream. “My instincts are usually pretty good, but I have to admit they’ve never quite been that good. It bodes well.”
Aziraphale had no idea what to say to that without making an arse of himself. He wanted to say something extremely flirty, but he hadn’t flirted with another human in years. To say he was rusty would be an understatement. So he took a sip of his wine.
Crowley gave the bartender a nod when he brought over a glass of scotch, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge him. It seemed his attention was on Aziraphale, and Aziraphale had no idea what to make of that.
“Well, Aziraphale, angel, how do you want me to start?”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean?”
“I mean, I intend to hit on you, and I’m wondering how you want me to start.”
Aziraphale was sure he’d heard wrong. “You intend to hit on me?”
“I absolutely do,” Crowley said, grinning broadly. “And there are two options.”
He was flushing and felt fluttery, but absolutely determined to volley back in this little game he found himself in, so he said, “What are the options?”
“I can either ask you what a guy like you is doing in a place like this, or I can tell you that you looked deep in thought when I spotted you and ask you what was going on in that gorgeous head of yours.”
Aziraphale was absolutely sure that something must be tethering him to the ground, because he felt like he would float away. “I can answer both of them,” he said, trying to be brave.
Crowley raised a brow from behind his glasses. “Oh? Do tell.”
“Well, first, I’m here because of my friend, Anathema,” he said, pointing towards Anathema and her date, Newt, a couple tables over.
Crowley glanced over, then looked at Aziraphale. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“She met this young man on some dating app, and he wanted to meet her here tonight. But she asked me to come watch over her, to make sure she would be safe. Which is not a role I usually play, but I was happy to do so. So I’m here.”
“So you’re alone, but not really,” Crowley said.
“I’m alone enough for this conversation,” Aziraphale flirted. It felt good. It felt even better when Crowley grinned at his cheek.
“What about the second part of my question? I’ve been watching you for a few minutes, and you keep looking at people and kind of staring at them, like you’re concentrating on them. It’s intriguing as hell. What are you doing?”
“I’m people watching.”
“People watching?”
“Yes.”
“And what, pray tell, are you watching them do?”
“Strike out, mostly. Some of them are making out. But mostly I’m just watching them and making up stories about them in my head.”
Crowley looked delighted. “You’re judging them!”
Aziraphale was sheepish. “Well, I shouldn’t like to put it like that…”
“Did you make up a story about me?”
“Er, no. I didn’t.”
“First impression, then?”
“Oh, I don’t know…”
“Come on, angel. Tell me… please?”
Aziraphale thought fast. What to tell him that would be flirty, but wouldn’t be too forward and make him sound like a tart?
“My first impression of you was that you’re very handsome. Entirely too handsome to talk to someone like me.”
“Oh, bullshit,” Crowley scoffed into his scotch.
“My second impression had to do with your hair.”
“What about my hair?” Crowley asked, looking curious.
“It’s quite red. It puts me in mind of embers, after they’ve burned down and gotten to the ‘warm’ stage, and the house is already toasty. When everything is comfortable and lovely and just the way you want it to be.”
Crowley’s grin spread across his face. “Well, that’s the most unusual compliment I’ve ever gotten, but I’ll sure as hell take it.”
“Thank you, and I’m sorry. I’m quite rusty at this. I haven’t actually flirted in an age. I apologise.”
“Don’t apologise, angel. I’m frankly relieved that you’re not a smooth talker. Tells me that you’re not a Casanova on the prowl.”
“Yes, but you are a smooth talker,” Aziraphale pointed out. “Should I not be concerned about you?”
“Nah, not me. I’m safe as a kitten.”
“Kittens scratch, my dear. They can draw blood very easily.”
“I suppose that’s true, but I’m harmless. If it makes you feel any better, I’m hopelessly single, and I have been single for the last three years. And this is not something I do often, hitting on strangers in pubs. As a matter of fact, I think I’ve only ever done it once before in my life.”
“Then why are you so good at it?”
“You want the serious answer or the flirtatious answer?” Crowley asked.
“I think the serious answer first, please, but then yes, I’m quite enjoying being flirted with.”
Crowley chuckled. “The serious answer is that advertising is my day job, so I spend a lot of time making small talk and stuff like that. I’m fairly good at striking up conversations with strangers.”
“Ah, I see.”
“The flirtatious answer is that I’ve just been saving all this up for the just right moment. I spotted you, had this instinct, and decided to make a move. I hope I haven’t made a mistake.”
Aziraphale flushed. “No, no. I don’t think you’ve made a mistake.”
“Good.”
He glanced over at Anathema to see that she was laughing, and so was her young man. He was relieved to see it, and when he turned around, Crowley was looking in the same direction. When Crowley turned back to face him he said, “You know, angel, I also got an impression of you.”
Aziraphale widened his eyes. “You did?”
“I did, yeah. And I’ve added to it a great deal, now that I’ve talked to you.”
“Well, please do tell, dear.”
Crowley took a sip of his scotch. “Can’t tell you exactly. Not right now. Don’t want to scare you. But it’s favourable. I promise to tell you on our fifth date.”
Aziraphale’s cheeks and ears were flaming. “Our fifth date?”
“Yeah. Aim high, right?” Crowley said, grinning. “Tell you what, I’m having a thought.”
“What’s your thought?”
“Why don’t we make your little judging-people game a team exercise? We could check people out and compare notes and make up stories about them.”
“You’d like to do that?”
“I think that sounds fucking delightful, angel,” Crowley said, then nudged him. “Come on. Play with me.”
“Alright,” Aziraphale said, swallowing his excitement. This was such a silly thing to be excited about, but he couldn’t help it. He looked around the pub for a likely person to talk about. Finally, he spotted one. “Do you see the woman in the green top?”
“Talking to the bloke in the check shirt?”
“Yes.”
“I see her. What’s your impression?”
“Well, they look like they’re on a first date, do they not?”
“Hmm. They do have that air of unfamiliarity about them,” Crowley said.
“It’s all a ruse,” Aziraphale said. “They’re actually a married couple, roleplaying. It’s to reignite the spark.” He leaned closer to Crowley, and tried not to get dizzy from the smell of his cologne. “They’re actually wearing each other’s underwear to spice things up.”
Crowley’s eyes widened behind his glasses, but he looked utterly delighted. “Ohoho, we’re coming up with those kinds of stories, are we?” he chuckled.
Aziraphale blushed and returned to his seat. “They don’t have to be racy. I’m sorry if I overstepped.”
“You didn’t, angel. I’m just delighted to know that as buttoned-up as you look, you have a hidden naughty side.”
“I do, indeed,” Aziraphale said, as flirtatiously as he was able.
Crowley grinned. “See the bloke over there by the jukebox?”
“Black hair?”
“That’s him. He’s a vigilante hunting for a mark. The guy he’s looking for is known for being unable to resist Chumbawumba, so he jumps from pub to pub and puts ‘Tubthumping’ on the jukebox in each one, hoping to smoke the poor bastard out.”
Aziraphale tittered. “How about that man there? The large biker with the beard? I’d bet he’s a pirate. And the blond man with him is his first mate.”
Crowley glanced over at them. “He’s in a biker gang, but one of those gangs that protects abused women and kids. He also has a basket thing on his bike for his shizu. The guy with him isn’t his first mate, it’s his husband. He’s ten times more cutthroat than the big guy. He looks soft, but he’ll kill you with kindness.”
“Noted,” Aziraphale said with twinkling eyes. “See that young lady there? Reading at the bar?”
“I do. The one who thinks she’s cute?”
“You think she thinks she’s cute?”
“I think she’s on the prowl, yeah. And that’s not me playing the game, that’s me being serious. I think she’s trying to seem alluring and playing hard to get. That’s the only reason I can think of to bring a book to a pub on a Saturday night.”
“Oh,” Aziraphale said.
“What’s that oh?”
“Well, it’s just that before you came up, I was wishing I had brought a book for myself. But I’m certainly not trying to come off as alluring or on the prowl.”
“Nah. It wouldn’t have come off that way with you.”
Aziraphale tilted his head to the side. “Why not?”
“Because you’re not in stilettos with eyeliner so winged you could take flight.”
He laughed. “I should hope not.”
Crowley grinned at him, looking pleased to have made him laugh. “See the guy over there?” he asked, pointing to a middle-aged man nursing an ale.
“Yes, I see him.”
“His name is Steven, but he prefers Steve. No one knows, though, because he’s too shy to tell anyone.”
“Oh, that’s a pity,” Aziraphale said.
“He’s also a lorry driver for Parkland Dairy, but he’s lactose intolerant.”
Aziraphale snorted indelicately. “Now really, Crowley,” he laughed.
“This is fun,” Crowley enthused. “We should absolutely do this on subsequent dates.”
“Well, I’m game,” Aziraphale said, smiling brilliantly.
“Speaking of,” Crowley said, “I was wondering -”
“Crowley,” said the bartender, cutting him off. “You’re up.”
“What?” Crowley asked, looking at his watch. “Shit. Shit.” He looked up at Aziraphale with wide eyes. “I’ve got to go, angel. I’m sorry. Don’t hate me. I’m so sorry,” he said as he hastily got up and left.
“But wait, Crowley -” Aziraphale tried.
“Don’t leave!” Crowley called over his shoulder, then disappeared into the crowd, and Aziraphale sat back down on his barstool, utterly confused. What the hell had just happened? He’d been having a lovely chat with Crowley, they’d been flirting outrageously, and Aziraphale had been convinced it was going well - so well, Crowley had been about to ask him for a second date, officially. But then he’d run off?
Had he just gone to the loo? What had the bartender meant by ‘you’re up’? None of this made any sense to Aziraphale at all, and he was wondering if he should just call this whole night a loss and go home.
He was glancing over at Anathema, debating about sending her a text, telling her he was going home, when the lights in the pub dimmed, and then the lights on the small stage at the front of the place came up. Aziraphale’s eyes were drawn to the stage, and he was dumbstruck when he spotted Crowley sitting on the stage, behind a keyboard. He felt his jaw drop, but couldn’t help it. He was absolutely stunned.
“Good evening, ladies and gents, my name is Crowley, and I’ll be doing a little singing and playing for you this evening,” Crowley said, his voice smooth as he started playing a little melody on the keyboard. Out of the corner of his eye, Aziraphale saw Anathema do a double take, then turn to stare at him, but he couldn’t give her his attention right now. He was focused on Crowley.
“Normally it’s a pleasure to come play for you, and it’s a pleasure tonight, too, but I have to admit that tonight, you’re interrupting me. I was chatting up a bloke that I’m terribly interested in. Hopefully he’ll stick around long enough for me to do a few songs. Maybe if I ask nicely. Aziraphale, please don’t leave.”
There was no mistaking Anathema’s agog look now, and a few other people were looking at him. He felt like his face was on fire, but he also felt like his heart was on fire. Oh, goodness, he didn’t even know what to think!
Crowley started playing and singing, and Aziraphale just watched him, entranced. He was very good, with a voice like smoky whisky. Aziraphale didn’t recognise the music, but that was no surprise. He wouldn’t have recognised the music if it had been a top ten hit. It was pretty, though, melodic, and Crowley played it very well.
He was almost through with his first song when Anathema came up, her face excited, grabbing him by the arm. “Oh my God, Aziraphale! Oh my God! I saw you chatting him up!”
“We were talking, yes,” Aziraphale said, tearing his eyes away from Crowley.
“Aziraphale, he’s singing at you.”
“I’ve noticed that, yes.”
“If you want to go, if you’re embarrassed or whatever, you can go. I won’t make you stay for me. And I’ll make your excuses.”
“Well, he was just on the verge of asking me for a date when he got called up to the stage,” he told her. “And I’m really quite interested in him, so I think I’d like to stay and see what happens after he’s done.”
“Oh my God, Aziraphale!” Anathema squealed, bouncing a little, then she hugged him. “Okay. Alright. I’m going back with Newt, but I’m just over here at this table if you need me.”
“How is it going with you, dear? Before you go.”
She gave him a brilliant smile. “It’s going pretty great. I’m kind of smitten. No red flags yet.”
“Well, you keep your eyes peeled for them.”
“I will if you will.”
“I promise I will, dear,” Aziraphale said.
She kissed his cheek. “Good luck with Crowley. I’m going back with Newt. Maybe we can double date soon!”
Aziraphale laughed merrily at the very thought - and the fact that it might be a reality - and then settled in with a smile on his face to watch the rest of Crowley’s set.
Crowley was on his last song of his set, and he was beyond ready to be done. Aziraphale had hung around this long, but Aziraphale didn’t strike him as the type to close down bars, and he absolutely had to talk to Aziraphale again before he left. He had to secure a second date.
He had been singing to Aziraphale all night, every song sung directly to the angel, and he’d barely looked away from him. To be honest, he didn’t want to look at anyone else in this pub. He wanted to look at Aziraphale and Aziraphale only. It seemed like all the light in the place attached to Aziraphale, anyway, and he was really all Crowley could see.
Crowley finally finished his set and stood up, giving a hasty wave to the crowd in acknowledgement before he jumped off of the one-foot stage, determined to make his way to Aziraphale. As they always did, some people tried to stop him, to chat him up, and usually, he loved this part. He really did like talking to people - normally. But not tonight. Tonight, he had to go to talk to Aziraphale. So he brushed them off as quickly as he could without being unspeakably rude, and made a beeline for Aziraphale.
When he finally spotted Aziraphale and the way was clear, he couldn’t help but swagger a little more than usual on his way over, then slid into the seat next to him. “Sorry about that, angel,” he said as smoothly as he was able. “What did you think?”
Aziraphale’s eyes were wide and his face was open. “Oh, Crowley. That was wonderful! I’m just in awe of your incredible talent! Were all of those your songs?”
“Most of them, yeah. I’m an advertiser in my day job, but I’m a singer/songwriter by night,” he said, grinning.
“Well, you are exceptionally talented. I absolutely loved all of your songs! You made me feel everything you were feeling, and it was wonderful. I’m so honoured you shared your talent with all of us.”
“Well,” Crowley said, his cheeks a little rosy. He was usually the type that liked praise, just like anyone else, but it seemed he really liked praise from Aziraphale. “Sharing my talents is part of my job, really.”
“I’ve never heard anyone who can play quite like you,” Aziraphale said admiringly.
Crowley tried not to preen, he really did. But he failed. He gave the bartender, Bucky, a nod when he brought a glass of scotch over, and said, “You must not be very musically inlined, then. I’m really just kind of middle of the road, musically.”
Aziraphale’s face was earnest when he said, “Oh, I thought you were very good.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you looking to be discovered? Become famous?”
Crowley took a sip of his scotch. “Kind of. Not really. I’d very much like for my songs to become famous. I’d like to be a professional songwriter. But I have no interest in fame.”
“Oh, I don’t either. Imagine having people follow you around and photograph you all the time. No, thank you.”
“Yeah. The money would be nice, though.”
“I don’t know that I’d want to sacrifice my anonymity for the money,” Aziraphale said.
“Nah, you’re probably right. Say, I saw you talking to your friend. Is everything going alright with her date?”
Aziraphale glanced over at his friend. “Oh, yes. Everything seems to be going along swimmingly. She came over to squeal in my general direction about you.”
Crowley grinned. “She did, did she?”
“She did, yes. But as far as her date, it seems to be going very well. As a matter of fact, she gave me permission to leave, if I wanted.”
His eyes widened and the smile grew across his face. “So you’re here of your own volition now?”
Aziraphale blushed, and Crowley was utterly delighted. He was just about to say something else, he wasn’t quite sure what, he was going to wing it, when he glanced up and saw that Aziraphale’s friend and her date were coming over. So he nudged Aziraphale’s leg, and just that touch gave him a thrill.
“Aziraphale, hi!” said the young woman, who was holding hands with a handsome but nerdy looking young man. She didn’t give Aziraphale a chance to answer before she gestured to Crowley. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
“Of course. Anathema Device, this is Crowley. Crowley, this is my friend, Anathema. And with her is, I assume, her date, Newt.”
“Yes, this is Newt,” Anathema said.
“Hi. I’m Newt Pulsifer,” said the geeky young man.
Crowley shook both their hands. “Pleased to meet you.”
“You were really great up there,” Anathema said. “We really enjoyed you. And I think Aziraphale did, too.”
“Anathema,” Aziraphale said warningly.
“I’m thrilled to hear it,” Crowley drawled. “I’m here every third Saturday, maybe you can come back. And bring Aziraphale, of course.”
Aziraphale was flushing again. “I think I’d be delighted.”
Anathema squealed a little, like a teenage girl, and Crowley chuckled.
“We were just coming over here to tell you that we’re ducking out for the evening,” Anathema said.
“Together?” Aziraphale said.
“Yeah.”
Aziraphale gave her a look. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, Aziraphale,” she said, giving him a blinding smile.
“I’m just going to walk her home,” Newt said. “No funny business.”
“Yes, well… Text me when you get in and let me know you’re safe, please, Anathema.”
“Will do, boss. And you two,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “Have a magical night.”
“We’ll do our best,” Aziraphale said, even though his cheeks were rosy, and Crowley gave a little salute.
“Nice to meet you,” he called after them as they started to leave. Anathema turned and waved over her shoulder, then left with Newt, holding his hand.
“She seems nice,” Crowley said once she was gone.
“She’s very nice,” Aziraphale said. “She was also on her best behaviour in front of new people.”
Crowley snorted. “I know people like that. My mother, for one. How do you know her?”
“She’s my employee. And also my tenant, I suppose I should say.”
“Oh? You own a business and are a landlord?”
“I do, yes. I own a rare and antiquarian bookshop a couple of streets over, and the flats over it.”
“Well, now, that’s fascinating. Rare and antiquarian books, eh?”
“You probably think I’m an old, dusty relic,” Aziraphale said, ducking his head.
Crowley raised his right hand and gave him a solemn look. “I think a lot of things, Aziraphale, but that’s not one of them.”
Aziraphale replied with a shy smile. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that,” he said. Then he tried - and failed - to stifle a yawn.
“You’re tired,” Crowley said astutely.
“Well, it is a bit late,” Aziraphale said. “At least, it is for me. Usually I’m reading in bed by nine thirty, and it’s after ten.”
“Can I walk you home?” Crowley almost jumped to ask.
Aziraphale looked stunned for a moment and his mouth worked soundlessly, and the penny dropped. He realised what Aziraphale must think.
“No, no. Not for that. I’d never treat you that way. Plus, I have to go back on and play my second set in about…” He glanced at his watch. “Thirty minutes. But I would really like to walk you home, if you’d allow me. Like Newt said, no funny business.”
“But Crowley, if you walk me home, I’ll miss you playing your second set.”
“You can catch me again. I play somewhere around town usually one night a week. I’d absolutely love for you to come see me play somewhere again. But I don’t want your memory of our first date to be that you were too tired to enjoy it. Plus, I rarely ever get to be gallant. You’d be doing me a favour.”
Aziraphale tittered. “Well, yes, alright. You can walk me home.”
Crowley barely refrained from pumping his fist in the air in victory. He did call out to the bartender. “Buck! I’m walking this angel home. He’s only a couple of streets over, I’ll be back in time for my set.”
Bucky gave a nod of agreement, and Aziraphale got to his feet. Crowley put his hand on Aziraphale’s back as if to lead him out of the pub, although Aziraphale didn’t need him to touch him, and Crowley’s whole arm tingled.
He dropped his hand once they were out on the pavement, walking side by side, and Crowley was having a mighty debate with himself. Aziraphale’s hand was right there, hanging beside his body, and it looked so soft and holdable… They only had a little bit of time.
Just do it, he practically screamed at himself. Just hold his hand!
He was just on the verge of making a move when he felt Aziraphale’s hand brush his. His heart stopped in his chest, then galloped to life when Aziraphale grabbed and held his hand. Crowley looked down at their joined hands dumbly for a moment, then gave Aziraphale a radiant smile.
“I do hope that’s alright,” Aziraphale said. “I’m afraid I’ve overstepped.”
“Angel, I don’t think it would be possible for you to overstep,” Crowley told him honestly.
Aziraphale smiled brilliantly, and Crowley had a flash of daring and turned their hands so their fingers were threaded. It felt like his soul relaxed.
“So where do you get the inspiration for your songs?” Aziraphale asked. “You said you’ve been single for a long time, but I noticed most of your songs were love songs.”
“Most all songs are love songs, angel,” Crowley said. “And it’s not really all that difficult. It’s the same thing as authors writing stories about things that haven’t happened to them.”
“I suppose so, but your songs are so emotive,” he said. “I just imagine that has to come from somewhere…”
“It honestly comes from my imagination, from a place of longing. Those love songs are the way I’d like for things to be.” Crowley gave him a tiny grin. “Can I say something really forward?”
“Of course.”
“Imagine if I actually have some real inspiration. And imagine being that inspiration.”
Aziraphale’s smile was soft. “That would be quite something. Whoever was the recipient of that would be a lucky person.”
Crowley just squeezed his hand.
“Well, I have to tell you, angel,” Crowley said, “I’m damned glad Anathema talked you into coming to the bar and being her guardian angel tonight. It was extremely fortuitous for me.”
“She was very insistent about safety this time,” Aziraphale pondered. “She usually just goes on dates in public without any sort of safety net, but this time she was adamant that I had to come along with her. I didn’t understand why, but I’m glad I did. I suppose I’ll hear all about it tomorrow.”
“What do you mean?”
“Anathema is a witch. She reads auras and star charts and whatnot, and I’m quite sure that tomorrow, she’ll tell me it was all part of some cosmic plan that I came tonight and met you.”
“Would that be terrible?”
Aziraphale smiled at him. “No, of course not. And to be perfectly honest, meeting you is the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in a very long time. If she wants to take credit for it, she’s welcome to. But I don’t like to leave my fate up to the stars.”
“Well, whatever brought you into the pub tonight, I’m grateful for it,” Crowley said. “And even if she knew this was coming, it’s still my lucky night.”
Aziraphale squeezed his hand and pulled him to a stop. “Mine, too. This is me.”
Crowley fought a flash of dismay. “Already?”
“I know. I don’t want it to be over yet, either. But I know you have to go.”
“We still have to make a second date, angel,” Crowley reminded him.
Aziraphale gave him a brilliant smile. “I’d love that. When are you free?”
“I work every day until about five-thirty or six, and then I’m free. I do play this coming Thursday night. Maybe we could grab dinner before my show, and you could come watch? Or is that lame? I don’t know. That might be lame. We can do something else,” Crowley backpedaled.
“I don’t think that sounds lame at all, Crowley. I think that sounds delightful. I would very much like that. So would you like to pick me up here at six on Thursday?”
Crowley thought he might take flight. “I will be here with fucking bells on.”
“Oh, excellent. Then I guess we’re all set.”
“I guess so,” Crowley said. “Alright. Well, goodnight, angel. See you Thursday.”
He turned to leave, but Aziraphale didn’t release his hand, and he turned back to see Aziraphale still standing on the stoop.
“What? Did I forget something?”
“Yes, you did,” Aziraphale said, eyes twinkling. He looked nervous, but determined. “I believe it’s customary to offer a kiss at the end of a date?”
Crowley was sure his heart had jumped out of his chest and done a victory lap around the street, he was so excited, but externally, all he did was smile. “I think that would be fucking fantastic,” he said, taking a step closer to Aziraphale, cupping his cheek, closing the distance, pressing his lips to Aziraphale’s. Aziraphale’s lips were soft and yielding, perfect for kissing, and Crowley was putting his whole self into this kiss. He parted his lips to get a taste of the angel, and oh, fuck, he tasted even sweeter that Crowley had imagined. And when Aziraphale opened his lips and their tongues met, Crowley was seriously concerned that the top of his head was going to fly off.
It took every ounce of his self-control to gentle the kiss and then break it, his hand still on Aziraphale’s cheek, and when he opened his eyes, Aziraphale was smiling softly at him.
“I’ll see you on Thursday at six, Crowley?”
“I won’t be even a minute late, sweetheart,” Crowley promised.
Aziraphale kissed him again, sweet and quick, then said, “Goodnight, Crowley,” and turned to unlock the door. Crowley watched to make sure he got in alright, then strutted back to the club, whistling the whole way, with the taste of an angel on his lips.