Chapter Text
What if the demons hadn't interrupted the ball?
After making sure that Nina had successfully entered the book shop, Crowley sauntered over to the record shop, just as Maggie was leaving, locking the door behind her. The night air was clear and the moon shone down warmly on the familiar Soho corner.
"Don't worry", Maggie said, noticing him, "I am already on my way, I wouldn't miss it."
Crowley just nodded. He wasn't really in the moment. His mind was still pondering the events of the day. How Gabriel - no, Jim - had been willing to jump out the window. Had he really changed? Was Aziraphale right in protecting him from Heaven and Hell?
But these thoughts were only a distraction from his real questions: Was his love for Aziraphale really that obvious? It wasn't like he'd never thought of the angel in a romantic way. No, the butterflies, the warm fuzzy feelings, the urge to kiss him had been there for decades and he was on this planet long enough to know what they meant. But he had elected to ignore it. Hell, Aziraphale barely acknowledged their friendship, how could he expect anything ... more? But Nina had taken one look at them and concluded they must be partners, and suddenly he had realized that times had changed. No longer were they bound by their respective sides. No longer did they have to pretend to hate each other. No longer did they have to hide. And they hadn't. Nina was right. They were having, for all intents and purposes ... a relationship. And Aziraphale had acknowledged it. Hadn't he talked about how the Bentley was their car? How the bookshop was their bookshop? He'd been so protective of his beloved car that the meaning behind it hadn't registered - until now. Five decades ago, Aziraphale had said Crowley were going too fast for him. But now ... wasn't he the one pushing forward? Maybe, just maybe ...
Crowley followed Maggie into the bookshop and his thoughts were pushed aside by what he saw. He just stared in a mixture of amazement and exasperation. Wow, Aziraphale took this ball thing way too seriously. Chandeliers, candles (though all electric), red curtains and Jim in a sparkly suit. Soft music was playing from four musicians, led by the Doctor Who fan Aziraphale had given a book to. The whole street had come and everyone was wearing elegant clothes fit for an old fashioned ball. Crowley’s eyes, however, were immediately searching for the angel. Aziraphale was standing in a corner, a tablet with little snacks in hands and the most adorable expression of pure joy on his face. Crowley could feel his annoyance fade. If he was having that much fun, how could he scold him about all the miracles happening around them, like the outfits and everyone suddenly knowing how to dance like people used to hundreds of years ago? Well, he would scold him anyway.
He made his way through the crowd, quickly checking on Maggie and Nina. They were dancing and seemed to be having a heartfelt conversation. At least Aziraphale's stupid idea seemed to work. And the sooner these two fell in love, the sooner Heaven’s suspicions would be erased and they could go back to their peaceful life. Well, there was still Jim, but they would find a solution eventually.
“Ah, there you are!”, said Aziraphale, when Crowley came up next to him. His smile was giddy and excited. It was baffling to Crowley, how he could still manage such genuine and innocent excitement. He adored it.
“Aren’t that a few too many miracles, angel?”, he asked instead of any greeting.
“Oh, you are no fun. These are all small miracles, Heaven won’t notice.”
“But I’m pretty sure these humans will. Nina looked very suspicious right now.”
“Ah, you know how humans are”, Aziraphale wiggled his hand in front of Crowley’s face, “they will shrug it off. But they will remember this as the best meeting of the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeepers Association they ever had.”
“And ask you to host it each year from now on.”
The smile on the angel’s face faltered a little. “Ah.”
Crowley changed topic. “What the Heaven is G- Jim wearin’?”
Immediately the smile was back. “Oh, I let him choose.”
“From where?”
“I – don’t be mad – I miracled a whole collection!”
“You – urgh, why didn’t you just leave him upstairs?”
“And have him miss all the fun? That didn’t seem fair.”
Crowley shook his head. “I’ll check on our couple.”
He turned to leave, but Aziraphale caught his sleeve. “Wait!”
Crowley turned back around; eyebrows raised. The angel looked nervous, his chest visibly rising and falling. “First, we have to dance.”
Crowley was taken aback. “You don’t dance.” Angels didn’t dance. Crowley had always considered it one of the key differences between angels and demons. However, this specific angel –
Before he could think any further or say anything else, Aziraphale had taken his hand and with a giggle pulled him out into the light of the chandelier. He let go of him in line with the other dancers and caught by surprise as he was, Crowley allowed himself to miraculously know the steps. Aziraphale was beaming at him as he gave a little bow then fell into step. Crowley’s thoughts were racing. They were dancing and he couldn’t help but see it in the light of his conversation with Nina. He raised his hand to touch his angel’s and they spun around each other. Aziraphale’s hand was warm and soft, unlike his lanky fingers that were always cold.
“I didn’t know you danced”, he admitted.
“Oh, I don’t usually. I learned the Gavotte in 1886 though and I admit I enjoyed it. I haven’t learned a dance or danced at all since it unfortunately went out of fashion. I invented this dance specifically for this ball, do you like it?”
Not really. It was a stiff, formal dance, quite unlike the wild and free dancing he every now and then partook in. But he was dancing with Aziraphale. Again, Crowley’s hand touched his, as they spun around. “Eh”, he managed to say, “a little old fashioned.”
Aziraphale pouted. “This is Jane Austin. It has to fit with the spirit!”
They parted, rounding the other dancers and joining again at the end of the row. Their hands touched and they spun, the chandelier’s flickering lights illuminating the angel’s light hair like a halo. Oh yes, Crowley enjoyed himself. His sunglass-shielded eyes met Aziraphale’s blue-green ones and, like every so often, it felt like the unconditional love in those eyes was for him and him alone.
“You can show me a more modern dance, if you like”, Aziraphale offered.
“Nah. I don’t think you’d like it.”
They danced in silence for a moment. He didn’t notice the other hands he touched. They spun again, golden light flickering, and he forgot about Gabriel. He forgot about Maggie and Nina. He forgot about Muriel, standing outside with their notepad. He forgot that they were in Aziraphale’s bookshop, holding a meeting of the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeepers Association.
"Crowley, what did you do?", Aziraphale asked suddenly.
Crowley snapped out of his reverie. "What?"
Another spin. He didn't want to let go of his angel's hand.
"Well", Aziraphale raised his eyebrows and looked around pointedly, "what did you do?"
Crowley's eyes stayed on the angel. "I didn't do anythin’."
"Are you sure?" Aziraphale looked around even more pointedly, so Crowley tore his eyes from the familiar face.
And he realized what the angel was talking about. "Ah."
The bookshop had disappeared, and so had the other people. He and Aziraphale were dancing alone in a void, glistening in the same warm red and golden tones the shop had. The music seemed to be coming from everywhere. It was quite angelic. "Nah, can't have been me. This has way too much glitter."
They continued to spin, but the dance had changed. It felt weird to dance with people who weren't there anymore, so they instinctively just kept spinning around each other, once left, once right.
"Well, it certainly wasn't me", Aziraphale mused, "this is above my abilities I'm afr- do you think the archangels are here?"
Alarmed he stopped. His hand slid past Crowley's as he also skittered to a halt, so Crowley grabbed it. Immediately the room around them seemed to solidify again, chandeliers and bookshelves taking form.
"No!" With one step Crowley closed the distance between them, put his other hand on Aziraphale's waist and using this two point leverage forced him into another spin. The room around them dissolved like wine trickling down glass. "I think t’was a joined thing. From both of us. I don't feel any other angels or demons here, just -" Just you.
The look on Aziraphale's face made Crowley more than a little uneasy. He looked confused, flustered, but his eyes were also shining with love and this time he was sure - he knew - it was only for him.
"Crowley ...", Aziraphale started, but he shook his head.
"Not now."
So the angel said nothing and they kept spinning, fingers entwined, Crowley's hand on Aziraphale's waist. Slowly, the angel rested his other hand on Crowley's arm. And suddenly, the thought occurred to Crowley, that he could kiss him. Right now, right here, wherever here was, where nobody could see them. He wished he weren't wearing his sunglasses.
But he didn't want to ruin this moment, not with removing his glasses, not with an attempt of any kind. So they danced a while longer in the red and golden nowhere, until slowly the room returned. When the other people came into focus, Crowley let go of Aziraphale, took a step back and found himself back in line with the other dancers, opposite to the angel, right as everyone bowed and the music stopped.
Taking a deep breath Crowley looked around. He wasn't surprised to see that miraculously nobody had noticed a thing. Probably no time had passed at all.
But for Crowley it had been eternity.