Chapter Text
The cinema’s lobby was crowded, but not overly so. It had certainly been much worse, in Crowley’s experience. The woman behind the concessions counter knew him - in truth, she’d been flirting with him for months - and when he got to the front of the line, she didn’t even need to ask before she grabbed his raisinets and a fizzy drink. He paid her, smiled, and just to be cheeky, tossed her a wink, enjoying the way she blushed. She was at least fifteen years older than him and wearing a wedding ring, so he didn’t see the harm in making her day.
He made his way to the assigned screen, looking for the light-up sign over the door that read “The Dead Don’t Care,” and once he found it, he went inside to look for his assigned seat. It seemed like the majority of the people who had come to the cinema tonight had come for some other movie, since there were only about twenty-five people in the seats. Crowley didn’t mind that at all. Fewer people meant there was a lower chance of people running their mouths during the film.
His assigned seat was on the tenth row, right in the center, which was where he preferred to be. He noticed that there was a man already sitting in the seat next to him, and he was a little surprised. Usually, when there weren’t many people there, the people that were were a bit more spread out. But looking at this man, Crowley didn’t mind. He was frankly gorgeous, wearing a suit that was so light a tan, it was almost cream colored. His hair was white-blond and curly, and he had the sweetest features Crowley had ever seen on a human. No, it wouldn’t be a hardship to sit next to this man for the next two hours. Maybe he could strike up a conversation. Matter of fact, he thought he might do just that.
Crowley made his way towards his seat, and smiled when the man looked up at him. The man looked a little anxious, but gave Crowley a smile, anyway.
“Hi there,” Crowley said. “Mind if I sit here?”
“Oh, no, of course not,” he said, and bloody hell, even his voice was gorgeous.
Crowley sat, put his drink in the cupholder, then sent covert looks at the man next to him. He had a profile that was simply stunning, and he knew he’d be sneaking glances all night. But the man still looked nervous, and Crowley figured that was his opportunity to chat him up. He could use that as an icebreaker.
“Come here often?” he asked, then cringed at himself, thinking that that was likely the lamest chat up line anyone had ever used in the history of ever.
The man gave him a smile. “No, I’m afraid I don’t. I haven’t seen a film in the theatre in a few years.”
“Is that so? What made you come to see this one?”
“I’m here to support my best friend.”
“Yeah? Then why aren’t they with you?”
“He couldn’t make it. He’s doing a press tour, and I wanted to see it before he was going to be home. He’s acting in the movie, you see. It’s the biggest role he’s ever had, and we’re all hoping it will be his big break, as they say.”
“You don’t say?” Crowley asked, genuinely interested. “Who is your best friend?”
“Graham Fitzgerald.”
“Oh, nice!” Crowley said. “There’s been a lot of buzz about him.”
“I do hope that’s a good thing.”
Crowley gave him a grin that he hoped was charming. “We’re about to see, aren’t we?”
The man looked a little taken aback, but gave Crowley a smile in return, and holy shit. He was attractive.
But the man turned back to the screen, and Crowley felt he probably should, too. The screen was showing those horrible trivia things they always did, but Crowley really wasn’t paying much attention. He was trying to think of another volley in this little tennis match he was trying to play with the beautiful man next to him.
Finally, he decided on a course of action. “I didn’t know that,” he said, and turned to the man. He was lying through his teeth, but nobody needed to know that. “Did you know that?”
“Know what?”
“That Jason’s original name in Friday the 13th was Josh.”
“Oh. No, I didn’t.”
“I didn’t either, and I know a ton about horror movies.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” the man said, his hands on the armrests, squeezing them.
Crowley gave him a look of concern. “Are you alright?”
“Oh, yes. Tickety boo. It’s just that… horror movies aren’t exactly my cup of tea.”
He looked at him for a minute, a little nonplussed. “You do know that this is a horror movie, right? The Dead Don’t Care?”
“Well, yes, I’m aware of that, but I really did want to come and support Fergus…”
Crowley’s brow narrowed in question. “Who is Fergus?”
“My best friend that’s in the film.”
“I thought his name was Graham?”
“That’s his stage name, yes. But I call him Fergus, which is his middle name. Only his wife and I call him Fergus.”
“Ah, I see,” Crowley said, relieved that there was a wife. That indicated that Graham/Fergus wasn’t a threat, and he liked that very much. But he needed to find out if this man was single - or even queer. So he said, “Well, if he couldn’t come see the movie with you, why not bring your girlfriend?”
“Oh, no. No, no. I don’t have a girlfriend.”
He felt a flash of hope. “Wife?”
“No, I don’t have one of those, either.”
“Boyfriend? Husband?”
“Closer, but still no,” the man said with a smile.
“Well, that’s good news,” Crowley said, going for broke.
The man gave him a tentative smile. “It is?”
“Oh, yes. I wouldn’t be able to flirt with you if you were seeing someone.”
Now the man flushed. “Oh, how you do run on.”
Crowley just chuckled, then said, “Well, we’ve covered your best friend…If I may ask, what is your name?”
“Aziraphale. Aziraphale Fell,” he said.
He offered his hand. “Anthony Crowley, but you can call me Crowley.”
Aziraphale took his hand with a little smile and shook it, and bloody hell, Crowley felt that all the way up and down his spine. There was absolutely denying it, now… he was completely attracted.
“Pleased to meet you, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, and retracted his hand. Crowley wanted to pout.
“Likewise,” he said. Then he went to say something else, hopefully something clever, but was interrupted when there was a loud bang from somewhere nearby. He was surprised when Aziraphale jumped a mile, looking shifty and clutching the armrests again.
Crowley gave him a little look. “So you… just don’t like horror movies at all?”
“I’m afraid not, no. I don’t like being scared, you see. It goes back to my childhood. But I’ll try very hard not to bother you.”
“You’re not. I just hate to think that you’re going to be miserable for the whole movie.”
“Yes, well… the things we do for our friends, I suppose.”
He had a burst of inspiration, and thought himself quite clever when he said, “I tell you what. If you get scared or something, start to panic, you can feel free to grab hold of me.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly bother you while you’re enjoying the film…”
“It wouldn’t be a bother at all. You can grab my hand or my arm, whatever you’d like. I know I look bony, but if you want to bury your face in my shoulder, I think there’s enough there to let you cover your eyes.”
“I don’t think you look bony.”
“You don’t?”
Aziraphale ducked his head and flushed. “I think you look lovely.”
Crowley preened, proud as a peacock of that answer. “Well, at any rate, no one should have to watch a horror movie sitting all alone. Especially when they don’t even like them. If you get scared and want to grab onto me, I’d be honored to be your emotional support in this trying time.”
Aziraphale tittered. “You’re so silly, dear.”
Crowley just gave him another grin, still hoping it was charming. He was thinking of something else to say when the lights went down, and they were forced to stop looking at each other, turning to the screen. Crowley kept his hands in his lap, but was very, very careful to keep them visible, in case Aziraphale wanted to grab him. He didn’t like the idea of Aziraphale being afraid, but he very much liked the idea of being able to soothe Aziraphale. And to touch him. That was very appealing to him.
The movie began, and like nearly all horror films, it started out tranquil enough. There were a group of friends, two couples and a fifth wheel, who were going to stay at a hotel. One of the friends mentioned that he’d heard that the hotel was haunted, but, typical of scary movies, everyone pooh-poohed him, and they set out to the hotel together.
Crowley was dying to talk to Aziraphale, and he leaned over to say in a low voice, “How are you so far?”
“So far, so good,” Aziraphale said, also in a low voice, and gave Crowley a small smile before he turned back to the film.
He watched for a little while longer, and Aziraphale seemed to be doing alright - which was both great and not ideal. But Crowley knew all too well that things were about to take a turn. They always did.
Not long after they arrived at the hotel, creepy things started happening, and Crowley kept sneaking glances at Aziraphale. He looked tense, withdrawn, and Crowley couldn’t help but be a little concerned for him - while he simultaneously was begging the entire universe for Aziraphale to reach over and grab him.
He got his wish during the first jump scare, about twenty minutes into the film. A horribly disfigured face appeared in the mirror suddenly, and Aziraphale reached over to grab Crowley’s forearm, his fingers digging in.
“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, letting go.
“I told you, you’re welcome to,” Crowley replied, feeling pretty great. If he was already panicking and grabbing him, there was every likelihood that this was going to continue. And Crowley was stoked.
There was another jump scare a couple of minutes later, and Aziraphale reacted by covering his eyes.
“Are you alright?” Crowley asked.
Aziraphale gave him a distressed smile. “Of course. Tippy top.” Then he turned back to the film, and Crowley did, too.
The scares started coming more frequently, and Aziraphale grabbed for Crowley’s hand more often than not. Crowley was delighted, and made absolutely certain that his hand was available. When Aziraphale would grab him, he’d give him a reassuring squeeze, and always felt a little pang when Aziraphale would let go.
On the sixth scare, Aziraphale grabbed his hand again, turning his head away, and this time Crowley decided to make a move. When the scare was over, he rearranged their hands so their fingers were intertwined. “Why don’t we just save time?” he asked, giving Aziraphale a smile.
Aziraphale looked stunned, but smiled after a second. “I think that’s fantastic,” he said, and Crowley thought he could fly.
The scares kept coming, and Aziraphale would squeeze Crowley’s hand every time, hard enough to hurt. But Crowley didn’t mind. He’d use his thumb to rub the back of Aziraphale’s, and whisper comforting things. Every time, Aziraphale would give him a bracing smile, and then turn back to the film. But it seemed that as time went on, he was more and more reluctant to look back at the screen.
When the first murder occurred, Aziraphale made a little yelping noise, and, much to Crowley’s delight, turned his head to bury in Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley couldn’t help but smile, delighted by this development. This close, he could smell Aziraphale, and he smelled like what Crowley thought heaven might smell like. It was intoxicating.
Aziraphale raised his head and apologized quietly.
“It’s alright, angel,” Crowley said, smiling at him.
“Angel?” Aziraphale asked.
He felt himself blush. “Yeah. It just seems fitting.”
Aziraphale looked pleased, then turned back to the screen reluctantly. Crowley couldn’t help but watch him instead of the movie for a while, but eventually he turned back.
Finally, about two thirds of the way into the film, Graham/Fergus died a horrible, gruesome death, and once again, Aziraphale buried his face in Crowley’s shoulder. “Tell me when it’s over, please.”
Crowley watched the screen, but really just sat there smelling Aziraphale. Fuck, he smelled so goddamn heavenly. And suddenly, Crowley was hit with a burst of inspiration.
“Hey, angel, since your friend is dead now, would you like to get out of here?”
Aziraphale looked a little tortured. “I think you’re right. There’s no reason for me to stay, so I’ll leave now. Thank you for everything.”
Crowley scoffed at him. “I’m coming with you.”
“Oh,” Aziraphale said, looking surprised - but still holding Crowley’s hand. “You don’t have to.”
“I know,” Crowley said, grinning. “Let’s go.”
He got up first, not letting go of Aziraphale’s hand, and Aziraphale was quick to get to his feet, also. Crowley was over the moon when they continued to hold hands, and he was even more delighted when they still had their hands joined as they went out to the lobby. He didn’t miss the concession stand woman’s look at them, but honestly he didn’t really care. There was no way he was letting go of Aziraphale’s hand until he had to.
So he was a little dismayed when Aziraphale dropped his hand after a few seconds, and was looking sheepish. “Thank you for that, dear. I really do appreciate it.”
“It was my pleasure, angel,” Crowley said - probably the most honest thing he’d ever said in his life.
Aziraphale looked over his shoulder, towards the door, and said, “Well, I suppose I should be going -”
“I could come with you,” Crowley blurted, leaping before he looked.
“Oh, no, dear, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure you want to get back to the film…”
“Nah,” Crowley said. “With horror movies, if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. And I feel like you might need a palate cleanser, after that. Something to get your mind off of it.”
Aziraphale gave him a small smile. “That would be welcome, yes.”
Crowley’s heart was speeding up. “There’s a pub across the street. Want to come get a drink with me? A regular, non-scary drink?”
“Are you… are you asking me out for a drink? Or are you asking me out for a drink?”
He thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest. “Whichever suits your pleasure, really. I mean, I have hopes, but I’d be happy just to know that you’re okay and settled and not traumatized.”
Aziraphale looked nonplussed for a moment, then a brilliant smile that almost knocked Crowley flat spread across his face. “I’d be delighted,” he said.
Somehow, Crowley managed to stay upright. Feeling bold, he turned and offered his elbow. “Come on, angel. The Dirty Donkey awaits.”
Aziraphale gave a little laugh, then slipped his hand into Crowley’s elbow. Crowley couldn’t help his strut as he escorted Aziraphale out of the cinema, onto the pavement.