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Aziraphale had been in plenty of situations that made him nervous. Far too many to count, frankly. He had thought that staring down God and claiming that he had mislaid his sword would be top of the list for anxiety, and he had quite hoped that he would never have to take part in any activity that would bring his corporeal form to such levels again. He remembered acutely how that silly human heart had pounded in his chest so hard it had rang in his ears, and how his hands had trembled so much that he had to clasp them together, and how his stomach had felt like it was being inartfully folded into origami cranes.
Yet here he was, feeling all those emotions again. The music was drowning out the beating of his own heart, which was a small blessing, but everything else felt acutely … well, the same, but not. Where before he had been, in no small part, absolutely terrified, now he was excited. Nervous, certainly, but so, so hopeful. So painfully, wonderfully optimistic.
He and Crowley had been dancing for 6000 years. As far as Aziraphale was concerned, it was all they could do. They orbited each other, kept in balance by the Arrangement. They both had a head office to report to, and it was one thing to cover each other’s backs to make sure that all the work got done with minimal effort, but anything more than that? Aziraphale had always had to remind them both what it meant to start changing the gravity between them. Every time Crowley had pulled, Aziraphale had to resist.
The angel felt his eyes starting to become a little prickly, and cleared his throat to shake the feeling. Instead, he started to look around his bookshop for his skulking companion. He had not seemed as thrilled about the dance as Aziraphale had - quite rudely, it should be said - but the angel knew he hadn’t left. He would’ve felt it, and very inartfully chased after him and suggested he return. This was important .
The humans were dancing in beautiful symmetry, and the music was playing gently through the room. It had all been prepared rather well, Aziraphale thought. Now he just needed to get the star guest to play his part.
It didn’t take long to see the demon leaning against a bookshelf, watching the dancing but not partaking. As he came into sight, Aziraphale felt his heart do that familiar double-tap he had been experiencing for the last 80 years (well, that he was aware of, but he wasn’t so naive as to believe it hadn’t been doing that before then). It was shocking to the angel that no matter how often he saw Crowley, no matter if they had been hanging out everyday for months, every time he came into view; there was that double tap. Reminding him painfully, every time, that he had to be stronger than the day before.
Well, up until now.
He strode confidently to Crowley’s side, expecting his nervousness to get worse. Heart rate increasing, starting to sweat, hands shaking; these were all the expected results of what he was about to attempt. Yet he found his heart settling, his stomach soothing, and his body filled with confidence. Not a familiar feeling, for the most part, and usually only came when he really needed to protect something important. This time, though? Crowley would say yes.
He always said yes.
“Angel, I’m not sure your plan is working. They’re making gooey eyes at each other, but no progress on a big kiss.” Aziraphale’s heart swelled. Of course Crowley had been watching Nina and Maggie, hoping for something to happen. After all, assuming that went well then Aziraphale was safe, and that was all Crowley ever aimed for. To keep him safe.
“I’m sure it’s working delightfully, Crowley. Why don’t we keep a closer eye on them while we dance?” Aziraphale was sure he was doing a terrible job at keeping the joy and delight off his face, but he found that he didn’t really care. For the first time in 6000 years, he had no one to report to. No one to tell him he couldn’t or that he shouldn’t or that he can’t, and he was going to. He was going to dance with Crowley, and this night was going to be everything he had intended it to be.
“You don’t dance.” Crowley’s face was a picture that was going to be seared into Aziraphale’s brain, he was sure. Heaven, he wished he could see his eyes, but that slightly open-mouthed surprise, that endearing furrow between his brows? That was enough.
With a giggle of delight, he reached down to take Crowley’s hand and dragged him towards the rest of the dancers. The demon hadn’t said no, and that was as good as yes. If he waited for an explicit confirmation from Crowley any time he asked him something, nothing would ever get done.
They slipped into the line up easily enough, and Aziraphale knew he was beaming. Quite frankly, he was surprised he wasn’t glowing in the literal sense. He had never felt so … Oh, it was such an inarticulate word, but such joy . The dance was hardly risque or close, but that first time they touched hand to hand? It felt like water gushing through his being, soothing a wound that had burned for so, so long.
Aziraphale had thought for a long time that he longed for physical closeness. He had put it down to this corporeal form, assuming it was a strange side effect of running around in human skin. He had seen how often the people on this planet touched each other in all manner of ways, and thought it only natural that it would affect him as well. It had only really happened over the last 2000 years, but being that he had spent quite a lot of time in Greece around that time he had supposed that was the beginning of it all.
That physical closeness was something he had denied himself for centuries. It was so very human, so very silly, that he had ignored it. He had work to do, and wanting physical affection really wasn’t on the list of things to indulge in. Food, wine, human living, sure. That was all part of the job (if you squinted a bit), but indulging in humans? As though he truly were one? Well, that was out of the question.
1793, Paris. That was all it had taken. Crowley likely didn’t even remember. Didn’t remember the crepes, didn’t remember the drinking afterwards, and didn’t remember taking his hand to help him to stand when they were both a bit more sauced than they probably should’ve been. Such an innocuous moment, barely a fragment of a memory, but that single, willing touch? That moment of Crowley reaching out to him to give him that smallest moment of physical compassion? That desperation within himself, craving touch that he never allowed himself, had sputtered under just a single touch from Crowley.
Once that touch had left, the fire had blazed, refusing to be ignored any longer. Aziraphale had spent the next 150 years trying to chase that feeling with humans, and failed miserably each time. How foolish he had been to think a human could fulfil him.
And now, now they were dancing. And that hand was on his own, covering his palm, and Crowley was willing (if confused), and this moment would be enough. Even if the rest of this evening got away from him and didn’t go as planned, then Aziraphale could hold onto this memory for the rest of his existence. It would keep him warm and hold him and protect him and mock him for thinking that humans could compare to Crowley.
“Are you okay angel?”
“I’m fantastic, dear. How are the girls?” Crowley’s eyes looked to the side to see the two of them still talking, and Aziraphale took that moment to let out a shaky breath that he didn’t know he had been holding.
“Still talking.”
“Hm.” The angel hummed slightly in response, but gave nothing more concrete. Aziraphale, quite frankly, couldn’t care less in this moment. They were a tomorrow problem. Heaven was a tomorrow problem, Hell was a tomorrow problem, everything apart from this dance and the soothing to his burning and what came next was a tomorrow problem.
“You’re acting weird, angel.” Crowley was frowning at him again, and Aziraphale could only beam back in response. He knew he was acting strangely, of course. There was no doubt of that. They had spent so, so long dancing around each other that actually, well, dancing together was stepping over a line.
A line that Aziraphale had been the one to draw, he knew.
The dance came to an end to polite applause from the participants. Crowley raised an eyebrow at the angel, but started to slink back into his corner. Aziraphale, just as quickly, gestured to Mr. Arnold. The music started to change, and the angel could have cried to see Crowley falter in his steps and look back in surprise.
Aziraphale was, indeed, optimistic about tonight. To be anything else would’ve, frankly, been too terrifying and he would’ve inevitably ended up cancelling the whole thing. That didn’t mean that he had thought that everything would go without a hitch. That the things he treasured about the two of them would also be the ones that Crowley thought of, and that he would understand why Aziraphale made the choices he did, was not a guarantee.
That look of surprise? Of recognition and shock, though? Even without the lyrics, it was burned into both their minds. The song that Aziraphale had thought of as their song was also notable to Crowley, and that was everything.
“Angel?” Other couples were taking the softer, gentler tune as incentive to dance together. Closer, clasping hands and waists and hips, swaying softly to the music. Smiling, pressed cheek to cheek, head to shoulder, in intimacy and adoration. Aziraphale could only glance around at them all with a soft smile, causing Crowley to look as well before their gazes met once more.
Aziraphale held out his hand.
Crowley’s eyes looked down at it. Aziraphale stayed standing, not speaking, not wanting to ask. Not wanting to use words to explain what didn’t need them (well, he hoped). His heart was starting to hammer again, but not nearly as much as he had expected.
Unwillingly, the memory of the bandstand came back to him. He had known, then, what Crowley had been asking. Maybe the demon didn’t really understand, even, but Aziraphale had. Saying no, holding steady while Crowley pulled , had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. It was all well and good to feel awful himself, to feel that pain of saying no to something that he had only wanted to say yes to. That, he had thought, was nothing compared to how much he had hurt Crowley.
Despite outward appearances (he found it quite useful to appear a bit dim), he was no fool. Even if Crowley hadn’t truly understood what he was asking, Aziraphale had known what rejection would feel like. He had known the damage he would cause even as he said the words, and he thought that dying might hurt less. Discorporation certainly had, and that was the only reference point he had.
He could only hope, now, that Crowley had forgiven him. The last few years had been healing, at least to Aziraphale. Now he could only hope that it had been the case for both of them.
The angel felt a knot of nervousness begin to coil in his stomach. For the first time, he feared that Crowley might not feel the same way back. That he had never been able to forgive Aziraphale for what he’d done, and that he was about to walk away. That this wonderful, beautiful evening was about to end.
The music continued, and Crowley still wasn’t looking at him.
“Crowley-” Words started to spill from Aziraphale’s mouth, even though he had been so sure there was nothing to say. He had thought he didn’t have to explain himself, but maybe he did? Maybe he needed to say sorry, just to really explain everything that had happened, to give his side of the story, to make Crowley understand-
That warm, coarse hand took his, and the words died with a choked noise. Crowley stepped forwards, filling Aziraphale’s personal space as he wrapped a hand around the angel’s waist. Aziraphale, in response, was frozen and stared stupidly into the demon’s now rather close face.
They stayed frozen in that position for many more seconds than they should before Crowley cleared his throat.
“Um, angel, I think you’re supposed to-” Aziraphale jolted, the words knocking him out of his enraptured stillness. This had been everything that he had wanted it to be, and for those few moments he had considered dropping to his knees and thanking God that Crowley had forgiven him. Thanking Her for gifting him this demon, for everything She had done to bring the two of them together.
But no, She didn’t get the credit for this. Not this one.
“Right. Sorry.” Aziraphale’s voice was lower, softer. He made to reach up to Crowley’s shoulder, to pull in closer, but hesitated. Instead, he shifted to the demon’s glasses and gave a nervous smile.
“May I?” Crowley gave the slightest, almost imperceptible nod, and Aziraphale gently slid the glasses from the demon’s face. He had intended to slip them into Crowley’s jacket, make sure they were somewhere safe straight away, but that look-
Aziraphale spent quite a lot of his time, if he was honest, gazing at Crowley like a lovestruck fool. He was, he knew, a lovestruck fool. Had been for the last however many years, but he had always made doubly, triply sure to keep those expressions off his face. It wouldn’t do for anyone, least of all Crowley, to see him looking like that. Now that they were separated from Heaven and Hell, he had allowed himself every gaze he liked. Who was there to tell him not to?
He had, of course, never seen Crowley return that look. Not until now.
Those eyes were bright, looking like they were filled with fire. Not hellfire, but the fire of a crackling hearth. Of home and warmth and welcome. Of adoration. Of that word they never spoke about. Yet, underneath that fire, underneath that emotional response, Aziraphale saw something more. He saw deep, yearning, longing .
For the first time, Aziraphale saw that same desperation for touch, for affection, that he felt burning in himself. The desperation that he thought could be filled by anyone, should he try hard enough, but that he learned would only ever be soothed by Crowley. And now, that desire was being reflected back at him.
The glasses clattered to the floor as Aziraphale pressed himself close, one hand holding tightly to Crowley’s, grasping, as the other reached to his cheek. He saw those beautiful yellow eyes widen in surprise as their lips pressed together, a moment of shock, before Aziraphale closed his eyes and just felt .
He had kissed before, as was established when he had tried to douse the fire. It had always felt a little clinical, if he was pressed to explain it. Like he was going through the motions. Not unpleasant, certainly, but nothing amazing either. Nothing to explain why humans seemed to like the action so much. For a while he had wondered if he was doing it wrong, or if the humans he chose were just bad at it. It had been the only explanation he’d had, quite frankly. Up until now.
That fire (that want , he now realised) had been blazing merrily inside of Aziraphale for so long that it had become familiar. Easier to ignore. Easier to forget. Now it felt like it was clawing up his throat and into his mouth, down into his stomach and lower, filling his entire being. It was all Aziraphale could do to hold onto himself, to prevent himself from doing what he had longed to for so long. To kiss Crowley, to throw Crowley’s jacket to the floor, to undo Crowley’s buttons one by one, to grab Crowley and pin Crowley to a bookshelf and ravage -
That arm tightened around his waist, and Aziraphale felt a tongue gently probing against his lips, and the groan that came out of him was new . Delightfully, wonderfully, new, and then he was tasting this demon who tasted like wine and smoke and cinnamon and a taste he couldn’t place but of course it was Crowley.
The fire flickered against his skin as he felt Crowley’s hand move, slipping under his jacket and those lithe fingers tucking under his waistcoat. Not to remove it, but just to touch , and it was enough to remind Aziraphale of where they were.
The angel had been practising how to hold steady while Crowley pulled for millenia, and he was able to part from the kiss with a particularly solid bit of effort. Crowley let out a frustrated hiss from the back of his throat that almost undid Aziraphale, and the angel had to move his hand to the demon’s chest to halt him from diving back in.
“Dear, we’re in public.” He was breathing heavily, trying to get his own body under control. He could feel a not-too-familiar tightness in his trousers and was using quite a bit of willpower to get that to settle, because there were humans around for Heaven’s sake.
Said humans had politely turned their backs and pretended like they hadn’t seen (or, frankly, heard) what had just happened. Aziraphale licked at his lips nervously before sparing a glance for Crowley, who seemed to be coming to the same revelation the angel had. They were still pressed against each other, but Crowley’s hand slowly withdrew from where it had been slipping under clothing.
“I had a big speech planned and everything.” Aziraphale spoke a little breathlessly. He had spent hours writing that speech, making sure it said everything that he wanted to say. Seemed rather redundant now. It was a shame it had gone to waste, but honestly, that kiss had been worth every missed word.
Crowley let out a low grunt in response. The demon shifted Aziraphale’s hand so it was against his shoulder before grabbing the angel’s waist. Slowly he started to move them both, and Aziraphale chuckled slightly as they started the gentle, tender slow dance he had initially intended.
“Tell me it anyway.” Crowley’s voice was lower, a slight hiss playing in the background of his words. Aziraphale had to grip onto the demon a little tighter to keep control, feeling that fire lick against his skin and into his groin. He swallowed, taking a moment to work through the want. Thankfully, it was a practised experience. He had memorised that speech every which way, and if Crowley wanted a speech, he would get it.
“As you wish.” Aziraphale, suddenly, was quite glad he couldn’t see those yellow eyes from this position. Saying it directly into that gaze would’ve probably undone him, now that he thought about it. This, perhaps, was easier.
“We’ve danced around each other for 6000 years. I don’t know when it was I started feeling … something for you, but I know I stopped us from doing anything about it. I know it was always me. I know I pushed you away every time.” Crowley’s grip on his waist tightened, and Aziraphale had to swallow through a sudden lump in his throat. He hadn’t thought about having to battle tears while trying to speak these words, which really was a silly oversight. “And I’m sorry. I hurt you. I knew it would hurt you as I did it, but I thought the alternative was worse. It was one thing for us to be friends, but to be anything more than that would catch both Heaven and Hell's attention. I was sure of it.”
Aziraphale rested his forehead on Crowley’s shoulder, letting out a shuddering breath as he did. For all the times he had practised these words, this was harder than he could’ve ever thought. To try to put into words how damn sorry he was had been rough, but he could only imagine how hard it was for Crowley to hear.
“Angel-”
“I know. I know you’d have taken the risk. I know you’d protect me from Heaven and Hell and anyone else who tried to stop us. But I couldn’t protect you . They could’ve killed you, and that-” Aziraphale’s voice caught, the words dying in his throat. He felt Crowley’s hand at his waist rubbing soothingly, their joint hands squeezed together. It took a moment to get his voice back, the music filling the silence as he did so.
“I wanted to give us time to heal. Both of us. Once we were separated from above and below, I didn’t want to rush anything. I wanted to allow us both time to recover from everything that had happened, and recently I’ve been realising that … I think it’s time. So I organised a dance so that I could be the one to ask you, this time.” Aziraphale stilled their swaying and pulled back enough so he could see Crowley’s face.
And with just that look, he came undone.
Crowley’s eyes were wide, expressive, gentle, hopeful, desperate, lost and so utterly, terribly scared. Aziraphale had known he had hurt Crowley time and time again, but he had never realised, in all that time, how badly he had hurt him. That even now, even after the last few minutes, he was still terrified it was all going to be taken away. That Aziraphale was going to change his mind, or say something cruel, or stop them both in their tracks.
Aziraphale felt like he was being stabbed in the stomach, and all the heavenly and religious guilt was nothing to how he felt in that moment. It paled in comparison, and he knew then there was nothing he could ever say or do to make up for the pain he had caused.
But by God was he going to try.
“Crowley, I’d like to be together. You and me. If you’d have me, I’d like to spend forever with you.” Aziraphale heard Crowley’s breath catch, and he barely had time to try and parse his expression before there were lips slamming against his own. It was forceful and desperate, one hand moving to grab at his jacket and the other up into his hair, both just holding on .
If he said sorry every day for forever it wouldn’t be enough. Aziraphale gripped back, holding onto that jacket with both hands and allowing Crowley to pour every bit of his desperation and pain into that kiss. It was sore and bruising, lacking in fire but full of brimstone, and Aziraphale allowed the pain of it. Allowed all that loss to be his, and all that hurt to be his, and hoped that it was enough to allow Crowley to let them be an us.
It seemed like a lifetime before Crowley pulled back, and when he did he kept his face down and away. Aziraphale was breathing shakily, releasing the jacket from his grip and gently touching at his lips. This, he knew, was important to remember. To remember this moment exactly as it was, and everything it stood for, and remember it whenever he felt weakness. What had been a memory of a hand in his had been overwritten by a desperate, scared demon holding onto him for all he was worth.
Crowley finally looked up, his expression smoother. Less frantic, less desperate and, thankfully, less scared.
“Sounds good to me, angel.”
Aziraphale had known that Crowley would say yes. At least, he had thought he’d known. Somewhere in the middle of the speech he had doubted himself, but even so, it had seemed a sure thing (that had been a whopper of a kiss). Yet still, hearing those words? Well, it was a night of firsts. Aziraphale didn’t ever think he’d feel his heart swell in the way it did, almost threatening to suffocate him as he felt such exultation . Being part of Heaven, working his entire existence, being in the presence of God herself - nothing felt like this.
“Oh. Oh, that’s-” His voice cut off as he became choked up, and he realised tears were pouring down his face. Aziraphale quickly brought a hand up to try and cover it, wiping them away where he could, but he rather knew it was a lost effort. He had been expecting Crowley to hug him or mock him or, more likely, both, but instead he just heard the demon’s voice ring out through the room.
“Alright everyone, party’s over.” Aziraphale heard a click of fingers but was too busy wiping his face to see what happened, and by the time he lifted his head the room was empty. Everyone had left, with no sign that they had ever been there, and Crowley was holding out a handkerchief with a far-too-serious expression on his face.
“Don’t cry into your sleeve, you’ll mess up your jacket.”
“Oh, thank you dear.” Aziraphale took the handkerchief with a shaky smile and dabbed at his eyes a little, trying to clear himself up. He hadn’t quite expected the rush of emotions that overcame him. It had, he expected, rather spoiled the moment. “I’m so sorry. That was rather unattractive.”
Crowley let out a bark of laughter, which shocked Aziraphale enough to dry his tears up entirely. The demon was grinning at him, those sharp canines poking out, those wicked eyes looking playful and taunting, and-
Oh, Crowley had no idea what he did to him.
“You think that was bad? I remember those sideburns.”
“They were in style!”
“Doesn’t mean they weren’t the ugliest thing I’ve seen you in over the last 6000 years.”
“Oh really, and you were better in 2500 BC, were you? I remember that-” Aziraphale was cut off by that mouth covering his own once again, but the experiences couldn’t have been further apart. He knew that Crowley was grinning into that kiss, even as Aziraphale was ravaged . One hand gripped into his ass, fingertips digging in tightly, while the other slid to his back underneath his waistcoat. That tongue was dipping into his mouth, almost tauntingly, teasingly, and the angel heard a deep-throated whine coming from somewhere. It took him a moment to realise it was from himself.
He tried to follow Crowley as the demon pulled back, not wanting the kiss to end. Those delicious lips dipped to his neck instead, trailing kisses down while hot breath stole over Aziraphale’s skin.
“Oh angel, you have no idea what you do to me.”
“I think I do.” Aziraphale laughed breathily, his fingers winding into that jacket, a soft smile playing over his lips.
The fire within him blazed. For the first time, it might actually be doused. If not, Aziraphale thought, it would at least be fun to try.