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It was a nice day.
Everything was in place—the bookshop had been transformed, food procured, Gabe—err, Jim in the only suit you could manage to scrounge up (an awful reminder of your Liberace phase, one that had not lasted long, thank goodness). Your guests arrived right on time, and you had entrusted Crowley with obtaining the two most important pieces, Nina and Maggie. All was going according to plan! By the end of the night, the two humans would be kissing under the electric sparkle of the chandeliers, and all would be well.
--
It was a nice day.
You got to watch as Aziraphale—mad, obsessive Aziraphale—ran up and down the block, making sure every shopkeeper would attend the meeting tonight. Must be an important meeting, you mused, if he was giving away some of his precious books! “Bargaining and tempting,” you thought with a secret smirk. “My influence at work.”
But then he was on to the next shop, and the one after, and suddenly his books were safe again as people just…agreed to show up to his bookshop at 6:30 PM precisely. And it hit you then, as it often had in the last 6000 years, just how endearing Aziraphale was, especially to his precious humans. He was, and always had been, charming. He had wooed the people of this street as easy as anything, and so when he turned those big blue eyes of his on them, he barely had to ask before they were agreeing, “Yes, we’ll be there! Of course! I’ll bring my husband, we’d love to!”
It was a treat to watch. A privilege, really. To see how Aziraphale made this place his home, how clear it was that he belonged here.
--
You were glowing with pride.
Everyone was chatting and noshing and dancing. It was sublime! Austen couldn’t have written better, you mused, popping a vol-au-vent into your mouth, a pleased noise coming from your throat as those exquisite, uniquely human flavors hit your tongue. To think there had been a time when you denied yourself this! Ridiculous.
You were enjoying the night so much, you almost forgot about the plan. But then, there was Nina, and soon after came Maggie, and oh! Weren’t they just glowing under the lights? You fleetingly wished for real candles, thinking about how much better the ambiance would be with the flickering flames on your guests’ faces, the faint scent of smoke and the smog of it in the air adding an ethereal quality to everyone as they moved to the music…but no, mustn’t get caught up in that. Fire was too risky. You could never go back.
As Nina and Maggie joined the dance, you took a moment to stand and watch. Mr. Mutt and his spouse, Ms. Cheng and her husband, Maggie and Nina…you could’ve sworn hearts were floating in the air between the sweet notes of the harpsichord.
You always were a romantic. It couldn’t be helped! Romance was just so…human, and you did so admire and care for humans. To learn about butterflies in one’s stomach, to watch for secret glances, stolen touches and gentle kisses. To watch people learn about each other, to see them become seamlessly entwined. To learn someone’s habits, to anticipate their needs.
It sounded heavenly.
You felt your shoulders relax minutely as a solid presence appeared behind you, as familiar a spirit as your own. You didn’t have to turn around to confirm who it was; you’d know him, find him, anywhere.
Crowley.
And oh, wasn’t that…interesting? Your body—strange and strangely divine as it was, real but not, never hungry or tired—well, it suddenly felt so odd. There was a fluttering in your chest…or was it more in your abdomen? No, both, it was certainly in both, and you wondered if angels’ corporal forms could decay or break.
Then you focused back on the dancing, and as the lines moved you saw Mutt and his spouse exchange a swift and small kiss, and a smile, and you had a vision, almost superimposed on the reality in front of you, of you and Crowley, touching hands, moving in time, and…and…
Electric candles or no, it felt like your body was about to burst into dreaded flame.
It was the music. It was the atmosphere. It was…
6000 years of denial.
Crowley was saying something, but it was muffled by a roaring in your ears (was that your blood? Usually useless, an unnecessary addition to keep up appearances as it were, but now you could feel it rushing in your head and limbs, pushed and pulled along by the pounding of your heart, your heart, your--)
Crowley’s face shifted minutely from his normal, slightly aggravated expression to one of bafflement as you turned and asked him to dance. You didn’t hear his answer or allow yourself to change your mind before you grabbed his hand (warm, too warm, burning) and pulled him onto the dance floor.
--
What. The. Hell.
You hadn’t been sure of what to expect from a shopkeeper’s meeting, but it certainly wasn’t this. Chandeliers and dancing and…was that Gabriel handing out hors d’oeuvres?
“Angel, what have you done?”
Then you spotted him across the bookshop, his gaze soft as he watched the couples glide along the floor. You felt that familiar stirring in your chest as you looked at him, that string that connected your corporal form to his, forged all those years ago when your stories inexplicably intertwined at the Garden…
But no, it was before that, wasn’t it? Before your, err, trip downstairs, as it were. You could only remember flashes, but there was one with him, Aziraphale, staring at you while you watched your stars and nebulae burst into form. And yes, you could feel the echo of that string from all the way back then, remembering that there was indeed a strange feeling as you looked at him, one that flowed from your chest all the way into your wingtips as your gazes met. Not tied to your corporal forms at all, but to your very essences, spanning Heaven and Hell and everything in between, including and especially Aziraphale’s precious and fragile Earth.
You had never mentioned this to Aziraphale, mostly because you knew he could feel the connection as well, confirmed even now, as you materialized behind him and he didn’t even flinch. Standing so close to him, you felt the stirring turn as it always did in his proximity to flickering embers, warmth spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes, like you just downed a good whiskey.
Nina’s words from earlier echoed in your head, something about “love lives” and “husband” and whether Aziraphale was…if he could be…
And you had thought about it, alright, thought about it for a long time, while drinking a lot, and. Well.
You had flushed the thoughts out of your system along with the wine, sobering up. That was for later, you supposed.
You said something—you were always saying something to Aziraphale, anything to get a quip back or a smile—but you could practically see the words go in one ear and out the other as he turned to look at you and said the most ridiculous thing he’d ever said to you, which is saying something because this man, your angel, was the most ridiculous being to ever exist.
Aziraphale asked you to dance.
You didn’t think you actually answered; you’re sure you mumbled something, but Satan only knows what exactly you said. It didn’t matter, though, because it didn’t even seem that Aziraphale was actually listening. He was already grabbing your hand and leading you toward the dancing humans.
You couldn’t resist, could never resist him, worried for a moment if he could feel the fire burning under your skin. He fit the two of you in the lines as if you had been there the whole time. And you thought to yourself again:
What. The. Hell.
--
Crowley was confused; confused, but not upset! Not openly, anyway, and that was what was important right now, to you. Confused you could handle, because maybe he’d felt the same way you had this whole time but didn’t understand and needed you to piece it all together for him. You can be patient; you’re good with patience. But if he was upset, if this was all one-sided and he…he didn’t…
Best not to focus on that right now.
Instead, you focused on him, on Crowley, on the elegance with which he moved his limbs as you began to dance together. You moved closer (not close enough), swaying with the music, and then your hands touched, so different and intimate from the way you had desperately clutched his fingers to drag him over here and—
Goodness.
You felt sparks travel from your fingertips to his and back, down your knuckles and across your palms, your arms, your torso, your face set ablaze.
Your hand went cold for the brief notes you swapped partners but then you were back together, and your eyes met and even behind his glasses, you could see it, burning brightly in Crowley’s face too. You were torches, illuminating and flickering. You were bonfires, comforting and familiar.
How could you be afraid of fire, if this is what it could feel like?
Many in your long life had called you naïve, said you were too human, that you had “gone native.” You had thought that romance and love, this kind of love, were beyond even your comprehension. You would always be too removed from humanity to feel it, no matter how close you got.
But being here, now, you realized that love like this was as close to Heaven that you had perhaps ever been.
Before you could separate again, you leaned forward and brushed your lips against Crowley’s.
--
Aziraphale had just kissed you.
Well, almost kissed you. It was more of a skim of the lips, hitting your cheek more than anything because you weren’t ready for it, weren’t expecting that but then—
There it was.
You froze in the middle of the dance, everyone else continuing around you like you weren’t even there. Then suddenly you were in a dark corner of the bookshop. You couldn’t remember if your legs had taken you there or if one of you had done a small miracle in order to get out of the way. All that mattered was that you and Aziraphale were alone.
And Aziraphale had just kissed you.
Your hands were still pressed together, fingers almost interlocked. Aziraphale’s eyes were huge and he looked…scared?
You realized belatedly that you hadn’t said anything yet, and thought that might be contributing to the fear. You cleared your throat. You opened your mouth.
--
…Had Crowley just squeaked?
Yes, you were quite sure that was the best way to describe the sound that came out of his mouth, an honest to goodness squeak. You felt your heart increase its frantic, useless, thumping pace. You had made a terrible mistake. You chuckled nervously.
“Do forgive me, dear—err, Crowley, I believe I tripped a bit there, the rug must have come up so I fell—ha! Fell! Isn’t that…well, anyway! Clearly, I was just a little clumsy, and I apologize. Now, if you would like to get back to the dancing, not necessarily with me, of course, we can do just that.”
You tried to pull your hand away but found it gripped tightly. Crowley’s fingers had slipped between yours.
Crowley was holding your hand. A giddy laugh bubbled out of you.
“Did you, err, mean to do that?” you asked.
“Did you?” he countered. “I mean, you said it was an accident, but I don’t…it didn’t really seem like…The rug is fine.” Crowley gestured over his shoulder and yes, of course the rug was indeed fine, flat and in its usual place. You laughed again, slightly more hysterically.
“Oh, would you look at that! It must’ve been... Someone must have dropped something, I certainly don’t know... that is, I do know what happened, but I…it was…”
Crowley was just staring at you now, and that was so much worse. All you wanted to do was look away, pretend this never happened, but it was impossible to tear your eyes away from his. It always had been. Goodness, you’ve been so stupid.
“I’ve been so stupid.”
--
Your jaw clenched. Yes, of course, it was stupid, you had also been stupid, hadn’t you? To think he had…on purpose, to even imagine Aziraphale felt… You nodded once, briskly, and cleared your throat.
“Right, of course,” you said, looking away, and you cursed how rough your voice sounded. You were not going to cry right now, you could count on one hand the number of times you had cried, and most of them were because of films. You weren’t going to cry over Aziraphale again.
“A mistake, that’s all. Nothing to worry about, ange—Aziraphale. We should check on Nina and Maggie, see if your little plan worked, eh? Come on, then.” You tried to pull your hand free but—had Aziraphale always been this strong? His fingers wouldn’t budge.
“That is not what I meant,” he said. “Look at me, please.”
You struggled to look back at his face and meet his eyes, but you did, finally. He had his “determined” look on, the one he had when he was planning this whole ball nonsense. You didn’t know what to make of that look, now.
“Well?” you said, trying and failing to be flippant. “I’m looking.” But Aziraphale shook his head.
“No, I want…I need you to really look at me,” he said, and reached up a tentative hand (was that a tremble?) to gently remove your sunglasses. You blinked, adjusting to the sudden change in light, and your eyes really, truly met.
“Crowley,” he said. He hesitated. He licked his lips. Good Lord.
--
Taking off Crowley’s sunglasses was a mistake.
You always forgot how intense his eyes could be. Their brilliance, their shine. Right now they mostly looked…worried, but also perhaps a little hopeful. Wide, but the pupils the barest slice of black.
And that yellow-- your favorite color.
You took a deep breath and focused on the hope there, and the hope that was still burning in your chest. It threatened to consume you at any moment, so you had to talk now, and talk fast.
“Crowley,” you said again. “I have been so stupid, these past 6000 years. Because I think, this whole time, I’ve been…what I mean to say is, there are certain feelings that I have…felt. That I didn’t quite have a name for. You see, you’ve always been… you’re my only friend. My best friend. I thought that what I felt was friendship. Was how friends feel. Nothing more. But that isn’t to say it meant nothing! The exact opposite, really, it meant…everything, Crowley. You…you mean everything. To me. And I didn’t realize…didn’t know until tonight that that was something I could feel. That I was allowed to feel…everything. And that, perhaps, you also feel…that. As well. Do you understand?”
Crowley stared at you for a long moment, and you almost started babbling again, you knew you had been babbling, but this was so hard, you had never done this before, you didn’t know what to say! You couldn’t think of anything, except “Crowley, Crowley, kiss me, please, Crowley” and you couldn’t very well just say that, now could you? You’ve embarrassed yourself enough so far, thank you!
Before you could say anything else and dig your grave deeper, Crowley squeezed your hand, and nodded.
--
You had to admit, you didn’t quite follow everything Aziraphale was babbling about, but you were fairly certain you got the general idea. So you squeezed his hand, and nodded, and tried to decide if it was your turn to make your own speech.
You were coming up blank, though. You suddenly doubted that you had ever had a coherent thought in your entire, long life. The only thing going through your head was, “Aziraphale, Angel, kiss me, please Aziraphale,” and you didn’t think that would go over quite well at this time.
Maybe later.
Aziraphale was waiting for you to say something though, so you struggled to pull something, anything out of your mush of a brain.
“Yes,” you breathed. “Same. Me too, definitely.”
Very good. Really nailed that one.
Despite your lack of eloquence, that seemed to be enough for Aziraphale, because he beamed. You thought you could see holy light shining from his skin, or perhaps it was hellfire setting him ablaze from the inside out and he was going to discorporate before your eyes any second. So you took the chance before you lost it forever.
“Aziraphale, Angel--”
--
“Kiss me, please, Crowley,” you said as he spoke, and he was already leaning forward, and--
Good Lord.
You were not normally one to blaspheme but you thought God may make an exception, just this once, especially for something so utterly divine, so holy, so blessed as kissing the love of your eternal life.
The feeling of his chest against yours, his lips, his—tongue?! Wasn’t that something! Everywhere you could feel Crowley, you felt him burning as well, and the two of you created an inferno.
--
Back on the dance floor, Maggie and Nina had stepped away from their fellow shopkeepers to stare at a back corner of Mr. Fell’s bookshop. Was something…glowing back there? They took a few steps forward until they could see clearly, and abruptly stopped short as the scene came into focus, turning away as fast as they could.
“Should we, erm…” Maggie said, blush rising on her cheeks. “Should we tell them…?” Nina shook her head.
“Best leave them to it,” she said taking Maggie’s hand and leading her back to the dancing. “We’ll just have to make sure the band plays loud enough to drown them out, if it comes to that.” Maggie giggled as she followed Nina, who stopped by Mr. Arnold to bend down and request a song.
--
The music changed to a familiar tune as Aziraphale and Crowley wrapped their arms around each other in their (almost) private corner of the bookshop, unaware that the love between them was visible from space—had been all along, in fact. And somewhere, not so far away, a nightingale sang.