Chapter Text
1818
“There we are, my dear.” Aziraphale offered his hand, smiling. “Step carefully, now.”
“You’re too kind.” The young lady took his hand and accepted his help out of the ditch. “I haven’t the vaguest idea how you righted the carriage on your own, let alone returned it to the road. You’re like… a hero out of one of my favorite books!”
Chuckling, Aziraphale led her to her little carriage. She seemed a very bold young woman, out driving by herself, and it hadn’t troubled him in the slightest to use a miracle in her aid. “Well, I don’t know about that. Do drive safely, hmm?”
“Oh, I shall. Home isn’t far away.” She gave him another bright smile, then gazed at him far more shyly than he’d expected. “I have one more favor to ask, if you’ll pardon my forthrightness.”
“Oh! Yes, certainly.” Aziraphale waited patiently. It was always nice to have an opportunity to do good.
She moved closer to him, far too close, and laid her hand on his chest. “Can we kiss?”
Aziraphale stared at her for a moment, then rapidly backed away. “Oh, um. No, I’m afraid not, not at all appropriate. Goodbye! Have a lovely drive home!”
“But you’re supposed to be like a hero out of the books!” she complained as he fled to his horse. “A hero would—”
“Afraid not, dear lady, couldn’t dream of it, travel safe!” Breathless, Aziraphale climbed into the saddle, coaxed his horse around, and trotted off down the road.
He forgot entirely to post, and the rapid trot bounced him up and down uncomfortably for a minute or two before he settled into rhythm with his mount. He shuddered, trying to shake off the awkward moment.
Aziraphale had never quite understood the appeal of kissing, why humans found it so exciting to smush their mouths together. He’d never tried it. He never wanted to try it. And he most certainly did not want to try it with a complete stranger.
He shuddered again, almost unreasonably ill at the thought. But soon, provided he ran into no other hapless travelers in need of saving, he would be at a lovely warm inn, somewhere he could savor the pleasures of the world he did enjoy. A hearty meal, some sherry perhaps, and a good book.
As he rode into the gathering dusk, he couldn’t quite stop thinking about that sudden offer, and about humans and their intricate relationships. Aziraphale didn’t entirely understand those relationships, no matter how much he loved romance novels. Certain aspects, yes. Holding hands and hugging sounded marvelous, as did snuggling. He and Crowley shook hands from time to time, and that always felt—
A loud crack split the air, and Aziraphale cried out as pain blossomed in his shoulder. His horse bucked, everything lurched, and he slipped out of the saddle.
The ground hurtled towards him at an alarming rate. He slammed into it hard, shoulder first, and screamed. The world darkened around the edges, his heart pounding. Tears rolled down his cheeks, rapidly cooling in the autumn air.
“What have we here?” A boot slammed into his side, and he gasped as the movement further jarred his shoulder. “You fancy types shouldn’t travel alone. Bet your valuables will keep me fed for months.”
“If you… need money…” Aziraphale whimpered as the assailant pushed him onto his back. The man loomed over him, masked to conceal his features, a pistol leveled at Aziraphale’s head. “I would have gladly—”
“Shut up!” The highwayman kicked Aziraphale in the face, a sudden blast of pain that knocked him back hard. The taste of blood filled his mouth, and he coughed. “Just hand over everything you’ve got!”
And then a horse slammed into the highwayman, sending him flying. Not Aziraphale’s horse—this horse was dark, its rider dressed all in black except for a red waistcoat that set off fiery hair.
Aziraphale inhaled sharply. Crowley.
“You wanker!” Crowley yelled, vaulting off his horse. He stormed over to the limp highwayman, seized him by the collar, and punched him right in the face. “You shot my friend!”
In tears of pain, Aziraphale clutched at the bloody mess of his shoulder. “C-Crowley…”
Crowley punched the highwayman once more and grabbed his gun, then rushed to Aziraphale and knelt. “Oh, angel. Easy, I’m here, it’s okay.”
Aziraphale sobbed, which only worsened the burning agony. “Crowley, it hurts.”
“I know, shh. S’ gonna be okay.” Crowley’s slender fingers curled around Aziraphale’s, lifting his hand away from the wound. Aziraphale moaned, tummy lurching. “Shhh, easy. I’ve got you, angel.”
Crowley laid Aziraphale’s hand down, then whipped off his own perfectly tailored jacket, wadded it up, and slipped it behind Aziraphale’s head. He bent down, frowning at the wound.
Then, carefully, he began to heal it. One hand hovered over Aziraphale’s shoulder, mending the injury. Crowley settled his other hand on Aziraphale’s brow and ran light, rhythmic strokes across his clammy skin. “Just hold on, s’ gonna be okay. I’m here.”
Yes, he was. Aziraphale watched in awe, unable to take his eyes off Crowley’s intent expression. The agony in his shoulder sent waves of nausea through him, but there was something oddly exciting about this.
As if it was a romance novel, perhaps.
“There we go, angel.” Crowley gave a tiny smile, although he stole a furious look at the highwayman before taking Aziraphale’s hand. “Bullet’s out. Why don’t we go to the nearest inn, and I can take care of the rest of this once you’re warmed up?”
He brushed his thumb lightly against Aziraphale’s swollen lip, so lightly that it didn’t even hurt, and Aziraphale’s breath caught. Oh my. Oh dear.
Aziraphale nodded and let himself be helped up. “Thank you,” he managed breathlessly. “You’re too kind.”
“M’ not kind,” Crowley grumbled as he draped his jacket around Aziraphale’s shoulders and took him in a supportive hold again. “S’ part of the Arrangement.”
“Oh. Of course.” Aziraphale tried to smile, although he couldn’t quite manage it with his mouth swollen.
Still. While it wasn’t appealing at the moment, he suddenly felt something entirely new. Gazing up at his rescuer, who had swept in so heroically, Aziraphale rather thought that he might like to kiss Crowley someday.
---
Crowley shook with anger even once he and Aziraphale arrived at the inn. He didn’t have time to do anything about that anger, not aside from flicking a lifelong curse for bad luck at the highwayman. But the anger boiled inside him whether or not he had an outlet for it.
Someone had shot Aziraphale. That was completely fucking unacceptable. What kind of a shitty world was this, a world in which someone as kind and caring as Aziraphale could be shot? It wasn’t right.
And not only shot. Roughed up, too.
Although Aziraphale was clearly trying to hide any signs of pain, tears sparkled in his eyes. It made Crowley even angrier. Absolutely nothing should ever make this angel cry.
“Here we go,” Crowley said in as gentle of a tone as he could manage while he was so furious that it took every scrap of his self control not to go back and finish pulverizing that damn highwayman. “Nice warm inn, yeah? We’ll get you patched up in no time.”
“Thank you.” Aziraphale seemed to be trying to talk without moving his mouth at all. Understandable, considering all the swelling.
“Hrrrng, don’t thank me. Sit down.” Crowley nudged him into a chair near the fire, dragged another chair closer, and snapped his fingers to summon someone with alcohol. “Okay, now. Lemme get this swelling, okay?”
Aziraphale nodded, still teary. “Hurts.”
“I know. Sorry I didn’t fix it all up earlier, but I wanted to get you inside. It’s getting dark.” Crowley could see in the dark, but he really hadn’t wanted to risk them getting attacked by more highwaymen while Aziraphale was so out of it.
It didn’t take long to fix up the injuries, at least, just a few minor miracles. Aziraphale let out a shaky, relieved exhale and touched his lips. “Oh my, that’s so much better. Thank you, Crowley. You’re awfully kind to me.”
“Stop it,” Crowley grumbled, pouring ale for both of them. “I’m a demon, I’m not kind.”
“If you say so.” Aziraphale smiled a little, although it was more restrained than usual. His mouth must still be sore.
“Soreness should go away pretty soon.” Still seething, he handed a cup to Aziraphale. “I’m really sorry I didn’t get there sooner, angel. Wish I coulda kept you from getting hurt at all.”
“Oh, my dear. That’s not your fault.” Expression tentative, Aziraphale sipped the ale. His face relaxed, and he took a longer drink. “Oh, that tastes good.”
Crowley gulped his drink down and glanced back over his shoulder in hopes that the highwayman had followed them. But no one new had come into the inn, just a cluster of people eating at one of the long table.
“I feel so silly for getting shot at all,” Aziraphale said with a heavy sigh. “Ought to have been paying better attention. But I was a bit distracted. Was, um, thinking about books.”
Affection wrenched through Crowley’s chest. “‘Course you were.”
“I-I mean, there was a reason!” Aziraphale’s cheeks were going bright red for some reason. “I helped someone myself earlier, a young woman whose carriage overturned. And she mentioned stories, so I was thinking about rescue stories and how they always go…”
There was definitely something that Crowley was missing here. He tilted his head. “You were so wrapped up in thinking about rescue stories that you ended up needing to be rescued?”
“Yes! Funny how that works, isn’t it?” Aziraphale gave a nervous giggle, and Crowley stared at him in confusion. Then something changed on Aziraphale’s face, the anxious expression softening into something tender, maybe. “And you came along, and you rescued me, and you were so… dashing.”
The hushed, almost reverent words went through Crowley like a bolt of lightning. He gazed into Aziraphale’s wide, shining eyes, breathless, all his buried feelings suddenly surging to life.
Crowley had felt something for Aziraphale since shortly after they formed the Arrangement. Had thought about things like holding his hand, or maybe taking a long nap sprawled against his softness.
But all at once, gazing into the adoring face, Crowley could only think about kissing him.
That would be a bad idea. He was probably misinterpreting Aziraphale’s signals. Wasn’t much good at reading his own feelings like that, and as far as he’d been able to tell until now, Aziraphale had no interest in any of that stuff.
So Crowley just cleared his throat and sat back, raking a hand through his curls. “Yup, that’s me. Dashing. I’d never let anything bad happen to you, Aziraphale.”
Somehow, Aziraphale’s expression went even softer, unbearably tender. “I know.”
---
1941
“Lift home?”
Aziraphale stared down at the book bag in his hands, then after Crowley’s casual saunter away. His heart pounded, breaths stolen by the gesture.
Crowley had saved him. Saved his books. Which meant…
Oh Lord. Crowley really did love him too.
When Aziraphale didn’t follow, Crowley paused and looked back at him, lifting an eyebrow. “Well? Coming?”
Still breathless, Aziraphale followed Crowley outside and to his car. He managed a few remarks, but none of them stayed in his head for longer than a few seconds. He was entirely too taken.
He held the book bag tighter, gazing at Crowley as they drove back to the shop. Oh, he’d been so incredibly dashing. So brave. So…
Injured, most likely.
“Please come inside,” Aziraphale blurted.
Crowley had been immeasurably cool and calm and quite dashing during the entirety of the rescue. Even while hopping about madly. Now, though, he gave Aziraphale a thoroughly startled look.
“Inside. My shop!” Aziraphale hesitated, then reached out. Hardly daring to risk it, he brushed his fingers against Crowley’s arm. “Please. I know you must have scalded your feet a bit, and tending to them is the least I can do. I rather owe you.”
Swallowing hard, Crowley parked across the street from the shop. He turned to Aziraphale, expression almost inscrutable. No one else would have been able to read it, but Aziraphale could. “You don’t owe me, angel. I told you already, I’d never let anything bad happen to you.”
Aziraphale licked his lips, staring at Crowley’s mouth. Then, control obliterated, he asked, “May I kiss you?”
If he’d thought Crowley looked shocked before, it was nothing compared to now. “Wha—yh—didn’t—hhhng—mmmnh. Yeh.” Aziraphale blinked at him, lifting an eyebrow in inquiry. “Yes. Yes, angel, you may kiss me.”
Crowley sounded as if he was trying to make the last bit sound a touch sarcastic—as if he was making fun of Aziraphale for asking—but it came out tender, so tender that Aziraphale could hardly bring himself to do anything other than gaze at his rescuer. Slowly, hands trembling on the book bag, Aziraphale leaned in and touched his lips to Crowley’s.
By that time, he was trembling, and so was Crowley. Their lips just barely brushed together at first, hardly daring to touch before the trembling separated them.
Aziraphale could hardly breathe. He pried one hand loose from his death grip on the bag, moving it to rest on Crowley’s chest. He kissed Crowley again, shyly, heart pounding as he drew back. Oh, he must be doing this all wrong, he shouldn’t even be doing this…
And then Crowley lunged towards him, curled a hand around the back of his neck, and pulled him firmly into another kiss. Their lips met full on this time—not just a shy little peck. This time, they sank into each other, lost themselves in the clumsy, unfamiliar gesture.
Clumsy, and yet so moving that Aziraphale started to cry. He brought his own hand up, touching Crowley’s cheek as their lips danced together. Sometimes light presses, sometimes longer, deeper ones. But all so, so full of love that it filled the entire Bentley, a warmth that washed away all of Aziraphale’s worries.
When they finally drew back, Crowley’s sunglasses had slid down his nose a bit, revealing his gorgeous eyes. Those eyes widened now, tracking the tears. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. No one should ever make you cry.”
“Oh, my dear. These are very good tears.” Aziraphale sniffled, skimming his fingers along Crowley’s jaw. “I’m crying because I’m so happy.”
“Oh.” Crowley let out a shaky exhale and smiled a little. “Good. Scared me for a minute, there.”
“Be not afraid,” Aziraphale said, and giggled. Oh dear, he felt a bit giddy. “Come now. Let me help you into the shop.”
He popped out of the Bentley, went around, and took Crowley’s arm. Crowley stumbled, gritting his teeth hard, and Aziraphale cooed at him with worry.
“M’ fine.” Crowley’s voice went ragged, and he tried to pull out of Aziraphale’s careful hold. “Seriously, s’ not a big deal.”
“Crowley. Don’t be absurd.” Aziraphale wrapped his arm fully around Crowley’s waist and cinched him closer. “You rescued me once before—well, more than once, but I’m thinking of a specific instance—and tended to my injuries after. Let me tend to you this time.”
“Nnnrn.” Despite the grumbling, Crowley leaned into him and let himself be helped into the shop.
Aziraphale settled him on the bookshop sofa and bent, gently taking his boots off. Crowley hissed, whole body tensing. “Easy, my dear. It’s going to be just fine.”
But oh, Crowley’s feet were not just fine. They were more than scalded, badly burned and in desperate need of care. Aziraphale tried a miracle and sighed when it failed completely.
“Holy burns,” Crowley said helpfully.
“I am aware, my dear.” Frustrated, Aziraphale tried once more. Then he miracled up a basin of water and clean cloths. “Going to have to do this the human way, I’m afraid. Here we are, just get your feet in here.”
“Ow.” Crowley’s teeth snapped together hard, and his skin went markedly more ashen. A sheen of sweat broke out across his brow. “Nnnh. Okay. No more consecrated ground for me.”
“I quite agree on that score.” Swallowing hard, Aziraphale unfolded and refolded the cloths. He needed something to occupy his hands. “That’s when I realized that I wanted to kiss you, you know. When you saved me from the highwayman.”
“Yeah? Funny.” A soft smile tugged at Crowley’s lips. “I figured it out just after that. When we were at the inn.”
“You… you did?” Aziraphale gasped, dismayed. “You mean that we could have been kissing all this time?”
Crowley laughed, a quick burst of amusement before he went back to wincing in pain. “Yeah, guess so. Dunno. Before then, I always thought the whole… mouths together thing sounded pretty…”
“Eurgh?” Aziraphale suggested.
“Yeah, if you like.” Slowly, still with a little smile, Crowley pulled off his sunglasses and tossed them aside. “Now that we’ve figured out that it’s not eurgh, though, wanna come do it a little more while my feet cool off?”
“I very much do.” Aziraphale moved to sit beside him on the sofa, leaned in, and brushed their lips together. Just another careful kiss this time—Crowley was trembling with pain, no matter how cool he might be trying to play it, and more enthusiastic kissing might be a bit much just now. “I am awfully grateful to you, you know. For both the rescues. Thank you.”
“Guh, don’t thank me.” Crowley reached up, catching a fresh tear making its way down Aziraphale’s cheek. “M’ really glad you didn’t get shot this time, angel. I was worried they’d pull the trigger before the bomb got there.”
“I wasn’t the slightest bit concerned.” Still teary with emotion, Aziraphale beamed at him. “I knew you’d never let anything bad happen to me.”