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They waltzed out of the Bastille, or had the Bastille already fallen and this was just a normal prison? Crowley couldn't remember. Things like that weren't important. What was important was that Aziraphale was free.
Not that he would ever say that out loud where someone could hear. It was just the Arrangement. Lend a hand when needed. Yes, that was all this was. He needed Aziraphale here. Not because he needed Aziraphale specifically. No. It would just be annoying to have to deal with a different angel thwarting him. The rest of them were right wankers. That was all.
Just making the job easier. He was a demon. Being lazy was a sin and sin was in the job description. That was all.
They strolled through the streets of Paris mostly unnoticed. Which may have been his doing. Unintentionally. Didn't need to run into a coworker with an angel by his side.
The streets were dirty and really no place for an angel in beautiful clothes. Not that Aziraphale's clothes were beautiful anymore. Of course it hadn't escaped Crowley's notice that the angel had kept the bit of lace at his neck. Not that he was ever looking at Aziraphale's neck. No. He'd just notice so he could complain about Aziraphale's bloody standards. Yes, that was it. Nearly getting beheaded. Heaven would have had him doing paperwork for years! And what was Crowley supposed to do down here with no angel to thwart his plans?
He sighed as they walked. France was in chaos. Hell was happy for now, but you never knew who had ears around. Hastur could pop up anywhere, nasty frog. Or one of the others. Though they tended to deal with their temptations one on one as opposed to the mass chaos the humans caused that Crowley gleefully took credit for.
"You really didn't have a hand in this?" Aziraphale asked.
"Not technically. Might have whispered in a few ears at Versailles, but I had nothing to do with the big head cutting machine. I swear it, angel."
"Oh, I know, my dear. The creperie shouldn't be much further now."
Right, lunch. Crowley could really murder some crepes and he would enjoy watching Aziraphale eat crepes. Decent deal for lunch. Aristo beheadings or not, people still had to eat, so he wasn't surprised when Aziraphale led him into a fairly good sized building. The angel always knew the best food places, hedonistic glutton he was. But he so easy to tempt that way. Crowley loved… it. The easy to tempt part. Yes. That was it.
It really hadn't been that long since they'd seen each other. Just long enough for the angel to get in trouble with Gabriel, apparently. And to need to get some decent food to help him cope. Well, Crowley's lucky day, then.
"The food is very good, even if they are in the middle of a revolution. And I'm sure a little extra incentive," with a small hand flourish, a silver coin appeared in the angel's hand, "won't be amiss."
"Right, just tell them you stole it off an aristo and we'll be fine."
"Oh, you're much better at that than I am. Demon and all. Why don't you?" Aziraphale pressed the coin into Crowley's hand and then opened the door. "After you?"
His smile was tight but it was a smile and he walked in trying desperately not to think about how close their hands and fingers had been. It was fine. They'd shook hands before. Exchanged things before. Heaven, one time in ancient Greece, they'd kissed cheeks in the standard greeting of the time. This was nothing. This should be nothing.
Crowley sighed, then ordered in French and directed Aziraphale to sit down at a table where the angel removed the awful piece of cloth that covered his beautiful blond curls.
The crepes were good. Aziraphale enjoying the crepes was better. The angel talked a bit more about his forthcoming bookshop. Apparently he was looking for a place he could buy a bit more than just space for his own shop.
"I mean, as a way to be a legitimate shop owner, Crowley. I don't plan to actually sell that many books, but if I'm to be working amongst humans then I'll need to be seen as making money in some way."
"Right. You're opening a bookshop so you don't have to sell any books?"
"Oh, I'm sure there are some I'll let go. To the right humans, you understand."
"Right. Of course. How are you going to stop people from buying your books, angel? Smite them with your wrath? Murder?"
"I certainly won't go quite that far, obviously."
"Obviously," Crowley mocked with a smile.
"Right," Aziraphale said as he finished his last crepe. "Shall we part ways, now? I believe we're quite even."
Just then the door opened and a gaggle of women and men rushed into the place.
"Monsieur Crowley!" One of the men called out and he and two of the women approached the table.
"Bonjour?"
"You must join us later at the fête!"
"Right," Crowley started. One of the women turned to Aziraphale and smiled. She reached out and touched the angel's arm. "Bring your friend."
"Right," he said again, trying not to snap the woman's arm off for daring to touch his…. An Angel of the Lord for Satan's sake.
With a giggle they returned to the rest of their group and Crowley snarled. "Come on, Aziraphale. Let's go."
"Oh, all right, then."
Once they were out of the building, Aziraphale rounded on him. "I won't go and spoil your fun, my dear. No worries about keeping up appearances with me."
"Angel! I have to stay in these people's good graces to stick around and make sure Hell sees me doing something! I told them I'd bring you. Call it payment for saving you."
"But what about the crepes?"
"Fine, I'll owe you a lunch. Fair?"
Aziraphale straightened up. "Fair."
The fête was being held at one of the murdered aristocrat's manors and they were offered champagne as they entered, with the promise of plenty more available. There was music and dancing and Crowley could tell Aziraphale was a bit overwhelmed.
"Here let's go near the bright corner. Probably don't want to look too closely at the dark ones."
"People really will find any excuse to sin, won't they?" Aziraphale asked.
Crowley shrugged. "Depends what you actually consider a sin, I suppose. But most are individually easier to tempt."
"Convenient for your lot."
"Like miraculous deathbed confessions aren't a win for your lot."
"Yes, well," Aziraphale stammered.
"Years of a demon's work undone at the last moment. Rather not fair, I'd say."
"Of course you'd say that, you fiend."
Crowley laughed. Once Aziraphale's champagne was empty, he agreed to go get them refills and along the way ran into a few of the revolutionaries who knew of him. He tried to break away, but more humans just kept appearing.
Finally with a sigh, he tried to catch Aziraphale's eye to let him know he was really on his way back. But he saw red instead.
Standing next to his angel - his angel - was some French tart, laughing and touching Aziraphale's arm and clearly flirting. Flirting so well that Aziraphale had given her the red, blue and white sash from the executioner's attire he'd swapped.
Well, Crowley wouldn't stand for that! That was his angel. They were here together after all.
With a low growl, Crowley marched his way through the humans, demonic energy dispersing them back to their revelries.
He walked up to Aziraphale, standing before him and only just nudging the woman with his hip. "Champagne, mon ange."
Aziraphale took one of the glasses and took a sip.
"Monsieur Crowley?" The woman squeaked.
He turned to her then, pulled his glasses down just enough for her to know something wasn't exactly natural about his eyes and hissed. "This one is mine."
"Crowley!" Aziraphale admonished as the woman moved away at a rather quick pace.
"Oh, sorry. Did you want to dance with her?" Crowley asked through gritted teeth.
The angel's eyes flew open wide and he brought a hand to his chest. "Good Lord, no."
"Then I just saved you from her and others like her. Just pretend we're together, and none of them will bother you. They won't mind here, I mean since we're both currently man shaped."
"Of course, my dear."
Crowley moved to the angel's side where he would normally be, and vowed not to leave it again. He downed the champagne in a single gulp and saw a group of women looking back at them.
"Bless it!" He cursed under his breath so Aziraphale didn't hear. "Angel, dance with me before we have more unwelcome company."
"What?"
But before a no could register from Aziraphale's lips, Crowley plucked the champagne out of his hand and pulled the angel by the lapels out to where people were dancing. Arm around a shoulder and the angel's waist. He began to move around to the music.
"Crowley! Angel's don't dance," Aziraphale hissed at him.
"Follow my lead, it's easy. Just swaying mostly. Surely even an angel can sway?"
"All right."
Aziraphale's hands mimicked his, one on his shoulder, another about the waist and they danced, badly, but together.
"This is ridiculous," Aziraphale said after they'd danced around for probably an hour.
"What, I thought it was going fine."
"You would."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Can we stop now?"
Crowley rolled his eyes. His glasses were still in place, but he knew Aziraphale knew him well enough to know when he was rolling his eyes. "Fine!"
He led Aziraphale off the floor and back over to an unoccupied corner that wasn't dark.
"Monsieur Crowley!" Some called from across the room, waving him over frantically.
"Go," Aziraphale said. "Just promise you'll come back this time."
"Oi! I came back last time, didn't I?"
Aziraphale sighed. "Yes, but I did have to wait quite a long time for my champagne."
"You're impossible!" Crowley hissed as he made his way over to the man that had called out for him.
"Your angel is quite lovely," he said to Crowley as the demon approached. "Word travels quickly."
"Is that a problem?"
"No. But it may be best for you to leave rather than stay. Most aren't as possessive of their chosen partners, Monsieur."
"Right. More action at the guillotine tomorrow?"
"No, but the day after. I'll see you there?"
"Most likely."
"Farewell then."
"Right."
Crowley stepped back and bowed with a small flourish.
"Don't do that!" The man cried as he practically ran away.
Crowley stifled a giggled and stood upright. As he turned, someone ran right into him. It was a woman, an older looking brunette with dark eyes. She had a pouch that had been open, the contents of which were now all over him.
"Oh, excuse-moi!"
"Fuck!"
The woman moved closer to him and whispered in his ear, "Perhaps you should go ask that of your angel." Then she moved to the bar where the wine was flowing generously. Would it even be a fête if they weren't drinking through the aristocrat's cellar?
Crowley shook his head and licked at the powder that now covered him.
Oh. Oh no.
"Crowley, are you all right? You're a mess!" Aziraphale asked, suddenly appearing at his side.
Aziraphale didn't know how right he was. Crowley was absolutely a mess in more ways than the angel meant it. And he was absolutely screwed. "Don't touch me. Bless it!"
He ran.
Water! He needed to find water. Water would dilute it, certainly. Crowley flew past several large windows and there it was: a garden. Gardens had fountains. Well, rich people had fountains in their gardens, he supposed.
He took the next door that went outside and tasted the air. There it was, to the left. Crowley continued running until he saw the fountain. Ironically the top featured an angel pouring water from a pitcher. Thank Someone the pool at the base was large enough to fit his entire body in. So in he climbed.
Crowley washed every bit of the dust off, careful not to touch any more of it directly or get any of the water in his mouth.
No, no, no. This couldn't be happening. Not while Aziraphale was around. Crowley wanted to scream.
"There you are!" Aziraphale said appearing from the same direction Crowley had come, obviously having followed him. "What is going on?"
"You need to get away from me!" Crowley practically cried.
"My dear, what has gotten into you?"
"That's the problem! Angel, a witch ran into me, and doused me in pure Satyrion root dust ."
"Satyrion?"
"Yeah, good for parties if you want to go about starting orgies? Come on, Aziraphale. We were both in Rome!"
"Yes, I know what it is, Crowley."
"I think she was about to put it in the wine."
"Oh, dear. Do we need to do something about the humans?" Aziraphale gasped.
"Nah, if she's diluting it in the drinks, she's just making them all extra horny!"
Aziraphale sighed and rolled his eyes. Then he looked at Crowley and his mouth fell open. "Oh, dear. But you had it all over you!"
"I know!"
The angel straightened himself and his clothes. "What do you need, Crowley? I will lend a hand. As the Arrangement dictates."
Crowley whimpered. He could have discorporated right there on the spot, dripping wet, but he doubted even that would stop the stuff. And then he'd be in hell and, fuck that was absolutely not an option given the circumstances.
But why Aziraphale? He could have just met up with one of the humans and this would all be over quickly. Aziraphale lending a hand when he'd been doused with dried Satyrion root, probably enhanced by the witch, was the worst possible scenario he could imagine.
Aziraphale huffed. "At least get out of there and come talk to me, fiend!"
"Fine."
Crowley stepped out of the fountain and dried his clothes with a snap. He couldn't let Aziraphale touch the stuff. He had no idea how it would affect an angel. And he really didn't want to know.
"Do we need to find a quiet room, a bedchamber? I'd rather not join a general orgy, if it's all the same to you."
"Angel! No, it's worse than that."
"Worse than having to have unwanted carnal relations or else die? I've seen humans under the curse, my dear. It's rather awful!"
"And you helped by taking them to bed, did you?" Crowley wasn't jealous, not at all. No bite to that accusation. None. That a human would dare touch his angel in such a way. Especially the way he wasn't allowed. No. He wouldn't think of it. He had bigger problems right now.
"Good Lord, no! At least not the way you are thinking, looking at me like that. Goodness, Crowley. Do you really think I would do something like that? I'm an angel!"
Crowley barely refrained from reminding the angel he'd just offered to do that for Crowley. "I'm a demon, Aziraphale," he said instead.
"And I'm well aware of that fact, my dear. You may go sauntering about copulating with humans all the time, but I assure you that I do not!"
"No, I meant that a curse of lust doesn't have the same effects on demons as on humans! And I've never… ngk!"
"Oh." Aziraphale blinked several times before speaking again. "I just expected it to be worse for a demon and perhaps even be something Hell might encourage."
"Nah, big on punishment, Hell is. So, lust curse turns into something humiliating instead."
"Oh, dear. What will happen to you, Crowley?"
"I need… I need you to touch me. Not, sexually. Sex will make it worse. I need… snuggles." The last bit was so soft, Crowley wasn't sure he'd really said it aloud.
"Oh. Well that's something I'd be more than happy to help with, my dear. Come here." Aziraphale pulled him into a hug and Crowley nearly melted. He'd need a bit more closer contact, they need to take off their coats and such, but it was a good start.
"Let's go back to my room," Crowley said. "Protected, no coworkers to see."
"Right." Aziraphale pulled away but grabbed Crowley's hand. The contact directly on his skin was overwhelming in the best way. They'd touched hands before, but with the added effects, and Aziraphale grabbing his hand like he liked holding hands with a demon, it was all too much.
"Fuck," Crowley said, looking down at their connected hands.
"Oh, too much!" Aziraphale tried to pull his hands away, but now that he had it, Crowley refused to let him go.
"Nah, is perfect."
And so, hand in hand, like a couple of young lovers, they stole through the night back to Crowley's current living arrangements.
Once they were safely inside, Crowley squeezed Aziraphale's hand before he finally let go. "Right, coats, shoes, and that thing at your neck?" He pointed at his own neck as he said it.
"Only if you fix that mess of hair. And the glasses?"
Crowley rolled his eyes behind his glasses but he was safe here, with Aziraphale. Aziraphale knew what was happening, so any strange thing his eyes did could be blamed on the curse. He removed his glasses, setting them on a table, hung up his coat and removed his shoes and then with another visible eye roll he snapped his fingers and his hair was down.
Aziraphale's smile caught him off guard. "There you are, my dear," the angel said, running a hand down his cheek. Crowley leaned into the touch, desperate for more.
Aziraphale removed his hand to take care of his own attire, removing the coat and the bit of lace at his neck he'd cheekily left when swapping outfits with his would-be executioner.
Crowley did not whimper at the sight. Big scary demons don't whimper at the sight of angels, no matter how pretty they are.
"Shall we adjourn to the sofa?"
"Yeah."
Crowley had conjured the sofa and bed when he'd taken the room. He was a demon who liked his comfort and since no one would ever see inside, it was safe enough to be a little more opulent with the furniture even in the midst of this bloody revolution.
They sat down, Aziraphale arranging himself with his back in one corner, much less properly than Crowley had seen him sit nearly anywhere.
With a soft smile, the angel opened his arms. "Come on then."
Crowley draped himself on the angel, head against his neck and cheek. One of the angel's arms wrapped itself around his shoulders while the other sought out a hand to hold.
It was nice. It was exactly what he wanted. And it also satisfied the itch building inside him from the curse.
He sighed contentedly.
"I'm guessing this is helping?"
"Yep. It's exactly what I needed." Somehow, millennia of practice he supposed, he kept to himself how he never wanted to move again and how soft Aziraphale was and other things much too unbecoming of a demon.
"Should I get us some wine?" Crowley asked after a while, though he really didn't want to leave his angel's arms.
"No, my dear. Best we stay sober to get you through this, I think."
"All right. Your loss. Nicked some of the good stuff from the aristocrats before everyone got carried away cutting off heads."
"Another time, perhaps."
"Right, maybe when you finally open that bookshop."
That had the angel talking for a while. They'd move, occasionally, Aziraphale's free hand would let go of Crowley's to caress his cheek, move a bit of hair behind his ear, or comb through his hair entirely before returning to grasp his hand again.
It was perfect.
When Aziraphale said something close to sacrilegious, Crowley pulled back to gape at him and before he knew what had happened, their foreheads were touching and he couldn't breathe. Not that he needed to, of course, but habits are habits.
"Do you .. do we, do we need to kiss?" Aziraphale ventured.
I can't do this ! Crowley thought. If Aziraphale kissed him, he didn't know how he'd ever go back to their normal Arrangement. It was too much. He closed his eyes.
"My dear?"
"Um, dunno, angel. Never had this happen before. With humans, of course, sex and lust are usually satisfied after multiple orgasms, but not sure how that works here. Never heard of any demon being cursed to have to kiss someone, that would be more in sexual territory than this more humiliating version."
Aziraphale frowned. "Well, let's try and if nothing happens at least we can cross it off the list."
No! That's what he should say. What he meant to say. But being around the one creature that really meant something to him was making his reaction worse. That and his normal penchant for not really wanting to deny Aziraphale anything.
"Yeah, whatever you want."
"I only want to help, my dear boy."
And then, perfect cherub lips were pressed to his own thin ones and nothing else in the entire universe mattered except Aziraphale kissing him.
The kiss deepened, though only slightly, never going too far, but flirting dangerously at the edge of chaste and filth. It was pure and soft and Crowley never wanted it to end. He would happily wait for the end times if he could spend every moment until Armageddon with his lips on Aziraphale's.
But it did have to end. Crowley wished he could stop time once more, but that power was beyond him at the moment.
Aziraphale pulled away and Crowley may have followed just a bit, but then his eyes opened and Aziraphale was smiling at him.
"Did that help?"
He wanted to say yes, and that they needed to do that again, right away, but, instead he realized that his mind was completely clear and he wasn't craving the angel's touch any more than usual. And wasn't that impossible? Kissing did not end the effects. It shouldn't have.
True love's kiss was only a thing in human fairy tales and beyond that, he was a demon and couldn't have a true love. And this was Aziraphale. Aziraphale didn't love him, unless it was in the manner that he loved everything. He certainly didn't love Crowley like that .
He shook his head in his confusion and Aziraphale's smile dropped completely. "Come here then, we will have to beat this thing the intended way, I suppose."
"Yeah," Crowley said as he found himself angel-handled. Aziraphale rearranged himself and then Crowley.
When they settled, Crowley's head was in Aziraphale's lap, and a plump, well-manicured hand was carding through his hair.
After a few moments, he pushed his head back back slightly against Aziraphale's belly, relishing the softness. The angel's arms curled around him, holding him close.
He didn't need it anymore, the driving itch was gone, but he would never tell Aziraphale that. Not tonight. Tonight this was his and he was going to take it. He wouldn't outright lie to his angel, he never outright lied to Aziraphale, but he would absolutely enjoy this while he could.
Though all good things must come to an end. Crowley knew he could never be allowed to keep good things, he was a demon after all. And it was again his own self that betrayed him.
He yawned.
"Tired from all this cuddling?"
"Aziraphale! I'm a demon for Someone's sake!"
"So sorry, let's move to somewhere more comfortable, yes? So you can lay down properly."
"Ngk!" This was fine. He was perfectly comfortable here. They didn't have to move.
None of those words made it out of his thoughts.
Instead, Aziraphale, somehow, got them over to the bed, and out of the rest of the most uncomfortable bits of their clothing, which left them both mostly naked from the waist up.
And perhaps, Crowley thought for a moment that he should thank God that he was a demon and hadn't been affected like the humans were. He wouldn't have survived a pity fuck from Aziraphale.
Once they settled, Crowley curled tightly to Aziraphale's chest, the angel's arms holding him firmly.
He yawned again. Stupid corporation!
"You can sleep, Crowley. I'll keep watch over you. Dream of whatever you like best."
"Ngk! Angel, I… I… Bless it!"
"Language!"
"Demon!"
Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "You are even more grumpy when you are tired. Sleep, fiend."
Noises escaped Crowley's lips but he couldn't put in words what it meant to be here. What it meant that Aziraphale had stayed with him when he had no such obligation, Arrangement or no. Crowley may have suffered through this alone, it wasn't exactly the type of curse that would kill or discorporate him after all.
But he could never say all that, so he growled. Aziraphale tutted at him. Crowley took a very deep breath and raised his head up to look at his angel.
"Gah! I mean… I mean thank you, angel," he whispered.
Aziraphale beamed at him. "Anytime, my dear boy. Anytime."
Crowley relaxed and laid his head down once more. After another yawn, he felt his lips curl into a smile, and then, blessedly, sleep overtook him.
When Crowley awoke, he felt warm and safe for the first time since the Fall.
Aziraphale was still there, sleeping, which was something Crowley didn't know the angel even knew how to do. They had untangled a bit in their sleep, the angel's arms falling more lax around him and Crowley shifted so he could better look at Aziraphale.
His head filled with the possibilities. If this had been real, if they could be together in this way, all the time. Not just brief touches via handshake or passing a wine bottle between them.
If their sides weren't watching.
Perhaps they could meet at Aziraphale's forthcoming bookshop and talk about things that weren't related to the Arrangement. Sit next to each other. He could fall asleep while Aziraphale read his precious books. Safe and happy.
But that was impossible. They would never be that safe, or happy like that, no matter how much he wanted it. Aziraphale would never give in to that temptation.
But he could have this one blessed moment. And so he took it. After all he was a demon.
Okay, so most demons wouldn't kiss their hereditary enemy gently on the forehead. And they definitely wouldn't smooth an errant curl and brush their fingers lightly through an angel's hair. No demon would be caught running a thumb over said angel's lips or dream of a world where they could kiss those lips and taste heaven all the time.
But then Crowley never was that great at being a demon. He was just lucky the humans did things like create big head cutting machines so he could take credit.
With a soft moan, Aziraphale's eyes fluttered open. He had such beautiful eyes. Crowley smiled at him.
"What is it, my dear?" The angel asked with a sleepy lilt.
Crowley shook his head. "Nothing, angel. Just the effects of the dust finally wearing off. Good morning."
"Oh, my. I don't sleep often."
"Then I'm glad you felt safe enough to do so here." He wanted to reach out and pull Aziraphale close once more, but he refrained, happy that the angel hadn't actually moved away when he had awoken.
Aziraphale sighed. "And after I said I'd watch over you. Rubbish angel I am."
"Nah, you're better than the rest of those wankers."
"Crowley, we both know that's not true."
It was Crowley's turn to sigh, but he didn't continue the argument. Aziraphale would never agree and he didn't want them to part in anger. Not after last night.
Instead he finally, reluctantly, pulled away and Aziraphale followed suit. They both stood, put their attire to rights and then turned back to each other.
Crowley missed it already, the warmth of his angel's embrace. Well, best get used to that. Never happen again, certainly.
"Back to our regular Arrangement, then?" Aziraphale asked.
Crowley's heart only didn't break because it had slowly been shattered to pieces over the last nearly 6000 years. "Yep. Don't stay in France. I don't care how good the food is, Aziraphale. I won't be rescuing you a second time."
"Wouldn't dare expect a demon to do any such thing. Until next time, my dear foul fiend." Aziraphale gathered himself and moved toward the door of Crowley's room.
"Right. I'll stop by London soon, so you can get some thwarting done in your reports. Make up for this fiasco?"
Aziraphale turned back to him and his smile made the entire room light up. "Splendid!"
Crowley loved that smile, even as he hated it. He needed to get away. He needed breathing room. It was too much and it was all the angel's fault.
"Go," Crowley said with a wave. "Before something else happens."
"Oh yes. Until next time, demon."
Crowley nodded. "Angel."
Then Aziraphale was gone, the door clicking loudly behind him. Crowley fell down face first on the bed with the groan. Somehow he needed to write this up and blame the angel for something. Oh well, at least the beheadings were still happening. Hell should be happy for a while.
He hoped.