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1820
"A dance, angel?"
"Crowley?" Aziraphale turned to the all too familiar voice. The demon was wearing an extravagant outfit. Usually, he did his best to blend in with casual fashion, but for this particular night, he had clearly made an effort. He was wearing a red velvet frock coat, with a rich amount of black lace detailing. The ends of the sleeves had black lace ruffles. Aziraphale himself was wearing a crème white coat with gold detailing, paired with a ruffle collared undershirt with a ruffle collar. It wasn't wildly different from what he had been wearing in the 18th century; just adapted slightly to fit this centuries fashion more closely.
Crowley flashed a grin. "Don't tell me. You're here to perform a miracle."
"Quite right." Aziraphale said, averting his gaze away from Crowley. He definitely should not be studying every single detail of the demon's outfit. "And yourself?"
"Oh, you know. The usual tempting."
"Naturally." Aziraphale felt a knot form in his stomach. "The hostess, then?" He managed to ask, proud of how casual the question sounded. He wasn't jealous, because that would be ridiculous. Merely interested.
"Wot?" Crowley raised an eyebrow at the angel.
"The person you'll be tempting." Crowley snorted. "Not that kind of tempting, angel. Not in my job description."
Aziraphale suddenly felt much more at ease now that he knew Crowley would not be... involved with anyone tonight. Much less courting someone. The fact really should not have make him feel so relieved, and yet.
"So how about that dance?" Crowley smirked, standing uncharacteristically close to Aziraphale.
"It would garner too much attention, don't you think?" Aziraphale said, his hands clasped in front of his stomach, nervously wringing them.
"I think it's more suspicious that we're the only ones not dancing." Crowley said.
"You know how it would look, Crowley." They were both male presenting that night. It would certainly turn heads, and could escalate quickly.
"They're humans, angel. We aren't. You know how easily fooled they are."
Aziraphale debated this, and then looked at Crowley in defeat. "I suppose you're right."
"Well, don't look so glum, angel. Promise I won't step on your feet." Crowley smirked.
"I've just never danced before. Not this kind of dancing, anyway. Actually, angels really are not supposed to dance at all-" Crowley had already grabbed his arm, and was leading him to the ballroom floor.
Crowley placed one of his hands on Aziraphale's shoulder, and the other on his waist, as was customary. "Just follow my lead, angel." He said, voice gentler than even he himself expected.
"You know how to do this?" Aziraphale asked hesitantly.
"No. But it can't be that hard, yeah?" He said, more so to himself than to Aziraphale.
"Right." Aziraphale said, a smile playing on his lips. He then leaned into the touch, holding Crowley in the intended way as well.
They started their dance. Crowley closely watched the other pairs dancing, copying their moves. It was good that he had something else to look at. If he looked at Aziraphale, who was so close to him now, he was sure that he would lose his nerve.
Aziraphale was so warm. Crowley wondered if that was because he was an angel, or if that was something unique to Aziraphale. Crowley wanted to close that last bit of distance between them, whether that was in the form of a kiss or a tight embrace. Preferably, he wanted both. These thoughts and feelings weren't new; they had shown up centuries ago, seemingly getting louder every time they met.
They had touched plenty of times during the century. Customary greetings; blending in amongst humans. Most of them involved touching. But nothing like this. Those touches were fleeting; a short shake of the hand. A brief brush of their skin.
This was different. This was intimate.
During the dance, they slowly leaned into each other even more, and Crowley wondered if they'd ever been that close to each other before. He was quite sure they had not.
Crowley wondered if Aziraphale felt the same crackling warmth through their touch. He supposed not. Surely having a demon touch you didn't make you feel all warm inside like touching an angel did. He wavered, then. What if it hurt Aziraphale, touching a demon? What if it was unpleasant? If it was, Aziraphale was doing a great job at hiding it. If anything, he was leaning into the touch, a content smile on his face.
After this night, they would both go back to keeping a respectable distance, never touching. Crowley wasn't sure if he would be able to go back after experiencing the joy of holding Aziraphale; but he had to. The reality he dreamed of wasn't one that they would ever find themselves in.
Crowley, with all his demonic might, was trying very hard to make sure that Aziraphale wouldn't shift to another partner while they were dancing, even if the dance required such an action to be taken. If Aziraphale noticed this, he didn't say anything about it.
If only it could always be like this. So close to one another. He wondered if Aziraphale would let him come this close in different circumstances.
Crowley wasn't sure when they had stopped dancing along with the rest of the guests, but they were standing still in the middle of the ballroom. Aziraphale's cheeks were flushed (probably from exhaustion), and even though they had stopped dancing, they were still holding each other.
"You're sure you haven't done this before? You're quite good at it," Aziraphale said, still slightly out of breath.
"Ballroom dancing's not really a demonic activity, angel. So no." Crowley smirked. "And I'm not good at it. I'm just not as bad as you." He teased.
Demons, in general, are shit at dancing. Crowley is usually shit at dancing. But on that night, a bit of decent dancing granted him the privilege of getting to hold Aziraphale. And that on its own was enough to make Crowley try to do the impossible.
"You don't seem to pay much mind to what is and is not a demonic activity," Aziraphale remarked, gaze very briefly resting on Crowley's lips.
"Same could be said of you, angel. Dancing with a demon." He'd meant it as a tease, but it came out way softer than he had intended.
Aziraphale opened his mouth slightly, as if he was going to say something, but then closed it again. His gaze shifted to Crowley's lips again, longer this time.
Crowley felt his heartbeat quicken, which was quite useless; he didn't actually need his heart to stay alive. It was suddenly harder to breathe, with Aziraphale's intense gaze on him.
"Angel, I-"
The rest of his sentence was lost to history. A great crashing could be heard; glass breaking, tables getting knocked over, people screaming. A variety of demons were entering from all sides, a seemingly never-ending amount of them.
Aziraphale jerked away from Crowley, looking around in a panic. Crowley immediately missed his warmth. And he had a feeling he wouldn't be getting it back, not for a long time.
"Did you know about this?" Aziraphale asked, eyes widened, hands reaching for a sword he wasn't carrying, hadn't been for thousands of years. Neither of them had anything to defend themselves with.
"Of course not!" Crowley snarled. "I would've said something!" I would have kept you safe, far away from here. Was what he thought, but didn't say.
"What do we do?" Aziraphale said, a confident glint in his eyes suddenly.
"What? You need to get out of here, obviously!" Crowley said desperately.
"I can fight, Crowley." Aziraphale said intently.
"I know you can. But you're no match for hundreds of demons, angel. And I can't protect you while they're all watching. You need to run."
Aziraphale raised his brows. "And leave you behind?"
"They're my lot, Aziraphale. They won't hurt me." And that wasn't the truth, not at all. Hell was very good at punishment. It was hell, after all.
Aziraphale still wasn't running. Every second spent standing next to Crowley meant more risk.
" Run, angel, please." Crowley begged, a desperate urge to reach out to him, to hold him again, even for just a second. In all the insanity, he almost wanted to laugh. For a while, he had genuinely thought that this evening could be something good, something pleasant, for the both of them. But it was never pleasant for them. It could never be. It always ended up like this; chaos. The threat of their respective sides would always loom over them, no matter how hard they might try to have an enjoyable evening for once.
Crowley cursed the many humans who were free to live out their lives together, without having to watch their backs the entire time. That was all Crowley wanted, really; to spend his existence with Aziraphale. He wondered if the angel wanted the same thing. They could never have it, of course; but maybe knowing that the other dreamed of the impossible too would be enough.
Aziraphale ran, in the end. Crowley had tried to escape the situation unnoticed, but had failed. He'd gotten into pretty serious trouble. He wouldn't tell Aziraphale this, of course; the angel was worried enough all the time already. It hadn't been as bad a punishment as other times, but Hell wasn't kind to those that didn't hurt enough humans. And Crowley had hurt none.
The whole situation almost felt like a bad omen; as if standing close too each other, holding each other, would cause a catastrophe every time.
They didn't stand so close to each other again for a very long time.
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2019
There had been a major shift in their relationship. Neither of them had actually addressed it, but Aziraphale was certain they could both feel it. They were free, now. Maybe not forever; they didn't know what the future held for them. But for now, nobody was watching them, and they were free to try things they had never before been allowed to do. Things that neither of them had dreamed would ever be possible.
Night had fallen long ago, and any sensible human would've been asleep hours ago. Aziraphale and Crowley aren´t human, though, and certainly not sensible. Aziraphale had pulled out a wine older than any human currently alive and had poured the both of them a generous amount. Crowley took it with a smile. He'd been smiling more, lately. Aziraphale revelled in it. He was sure this was yet another change caused by their newfound freedom. A slow piece of classical music played softly in the back on Aziraphale's ancient record player. Crowley didn't seem to mind, even though he usually made a point of recommending modern bands to Aziraphale.
The record started playing another piece of music. It was slow, still, but more lively.
Aziraphale recognised it. Crowley recognised it. Aziraphale frowned, trying to figure out where he had heard it before.
"The ball!" He exclaimed after a while, finally putting the pieces together. Crowley raised an eyebrow.
"The ball, Crowley. Do you remember? In the 19th century." He smiled softly, reminiscing. They had been so close to each other; it had very much felt like an embrace of sorts, a feeling both had been yearning for ever since.
"Oh, yeah. Whole ballroom exploded afterwards." He chuckled a bit at that. "At least we weren't responsible for the explosion. Not that time, anyway." He took a generous swig of his wine.
"I've never done any exploding." Aziraphale mumbled. Crowley laughed. "Yeah, because you let me do the exploding for you!" There wasn't any bite in the statement. If anything, it seemed as if Crowley looked back on the memories fondly.
The ball had been so nice, though. Before the legions of Hell took out their wrath upon it, anyway. The room had smelled like a nice mix of champagne and chocolate. Crowley, in his turn, had smelled even nicer. It had clearly been human cologne.
"I still don't understand why they were attacking that place." Aziraphale said, remembering the sheer chaos of it all.
"Me neither. We were lucky they didn't notice you. Would've got into trouble, then." Crowley commented, biting his lip. "Why were you even there?"
"Miracles. I told you as much."
"Yes, but... It can't have been a coincidence, surely?" Aziraphale sighed. "I don't know, dear. Mostly, I was just disappointed we couldn't finish our dance." He said, hoping Crowley would agree. When he didn't say anything, Aziraphale continued.
"I mean, it was nice, though, wasn't it? Before Hell literally broke out, I mean." He said, nerves rising within him. He desperately wanted to know if Crowley had enjoyed the touch as much as him. If that evening still lingered in his mind, as well.
"Yup." Crowley's lips quirked up at the edges. "But neither of us are very good dancers." He was silent for a moment, before adding; "Anyway, it could've been better." He was twirling the wine in his glass around and around, staring at the swirls instead of looking at Aziraphale.
Aziraphale stared at him, a quizzed look on his face. And when he didn't say anything, Crowley's heart spoke instead.
"I really wanted to kiss you that night." He'd said it before he could stop himself, before he could even think about his words. Aziraphale was staring at him, wide eyed. Crowley made a nondescript sound, terrified that he had just crossed every single boundary between them, something he could never come back from.
"You did?" Aziraphale said, in a tone soft as honey, even for angel standards. (Actually, Crowley thought, most of the angels didn't speak very softly at all. Snide insults and backhanded compliments weren't very soft, as far as Crowley was concerned).
"Well, obviously. You looked breathtaking. Most beautiful being in the room." Crowley really didn't know where he was finding the confidence. He'd said these words before, of course. In his dreams. But never out loud, never anywhere near Aziraphale. Apparently saving the world together really blurs the edges of what things you dare to say.
Aziraphale scrunched his brows, cheeks reddening because of Crowley's kind words. "Obviously?! You could have said something!"
"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, angel. Still don't." Crowley muttered. When Aziraphale didn't reply, he kept talking. "You're already making yourself uncomfortable by being around a demon-"
"The only comfort I experience is when you are near." Aziraphale interrupted him, suddenly standing way closer to him.
"You can't mean that, angel." Crowley muttered.
"Of course I mean it, Crowley. You must understand by now, after so many years." He sat down on the couch next to Crowley, and carefully touched his arm, which made him shiver slightly, before leaning into the touch. "So, of course, you could never make me uncomfortable. Especially not with something I'd very much like to do."
"What?"
"Kissing, dear. I think I'd very much like to try it with you." Crowley's head snapped towards him with ferocity. He was clearly trying to say something, but what came out instead was a jumbling concoction of words. Aziraphale chuckled. "We don't have to do it right now." He said gently.
"No, no, I want to do it. Right now. If you do." Crowley said quickly, having found his words again.
Aziraphale smiled. "I do." He turned his body to Crowley fully, unsure of what to do next.
"I've... Never actually kissed anyone," He admitted, embarrassment apparent in his voice.
"Neither have I."
"Really? But- I mean-" Crowley grinned. "I told you, angel. That kind of tempting isn't in my job description."
"I know that. But well, over the thousands of years, I'd assumed that- you are very charming, which I am sure you're aware of-"
"I've only ever wanted you. Since the beginning."
Aziraphale smiled at him, and that was all Crowley ever needed. He kissed him. It surpassed both of their expectations, both of their hopes and fantasies. Crowley hadn't imagined that Aziraphale would run his hand through his hair, for example. And Aziraphale hadn't imagined how amazing it would feel to have Crowley's hands cup his face. It was a gentle and slow kiss; which was all either of them needed, in this moment.
Crowley pulled Aziraphale closer, finally free to embrace him.
"We can finish that dance, now." Aziraphale said softly. Crowley smirked, and got up. He pulled Aziraphale up as well. He lead the dance, just as he had last time.
No one interrupted them this time.