Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Crowley had been watching the priest for a while.

It was hard not to, really.

Light shining across his blond hair making it look like a cloud on a beautiful summer day, laugh lines across his eyes begging to be touched and a smile that lit up everything surrounding him.

Crowley really hated his assignment.

He hates a lot of things and if it were to tempt a handsome priest into sex this wouldn’t be much of an issue either, one he’d very willingly follow.

But this man had to die, commit suicide according to the dark council, to secure his holiness for hell in the worst possible way.

The priest was right outside the church doors, welcoming people one by one into his small church located in the middle of nowhere, desert town in the old US of A.

According to his files he was British, from Soho more specifically, but there wasn’t that much information either. 

So from all this he has a plan, it’s an easy one, just lie to the guys downstairs and tell the priest the truth. 

It’d be hard of course, maybe at first, but he’s a holy man, Crowley’s sure he’s seen more than enough weird shit before, he’d tell him to lay low for a while, maybe give up the clergy for a couple of years, enjoy a normal human life and move on and the council will be happy as long as he sends something, which he can easily find in a town like this.

Humans in small towns are always hiding secrets anyways.

Someone sounds the big church bell and the priest quickly laughs about something some short black woman said, he nods and finally moves to hurry both of them inside the building as he closes the door behind them.

Crowley finally starts the Bentley from the other side of the road and drives away. 

It’s a couple of hours after dark when he heads to the place the easiest to get his job done, the only stripper’s bar in this shitty town.

It has a funny name, ‘Fantassy’, Crowley giggled a little when he saw the sign.

Walking in, his job is halfway done by itself, salacious men getting with barely legal girls, people cheating on their spouses, strippers lying about their feelings to half drunk men only for a bigger bill. 

He barely has to lift a finger for anything and the big bosses downstairs don’t have any idea that this wasn’t even his idea.

He sits down on some wasted plastic red couch, loud shitty pop music drumming in his ears and dancers barely moving around the pole in skimpy outfits, yet that’s enough for the men in the room.

A drink lands on the table in front of him.

“On the house” says a young girl with a pink wig, she looks like some Britney spears wanna be, wearing a pink glittery thong and some heart stickers on her nipples, she’s looking for an easy job and he’s easily the best looking man in the room.

“Not interested sweetheart” he moves the drink away, looks around bored and already filling in the hellish report in his head “But thanks”

“We have for all types of taste sir” she whispers in his ear “Maybe you’d be interested in those?”

So they have a secret gay backdoor, not surprised either, but a job is a job; so he looks up at the woman and nods; she smiles and he follows her.

She nods at a big burly man tending the bar, he nods back and opens the door behind him, they walk through a dark hallway where even louder music is hitting the walls.

The place reeks of lust and sex, under the heavy drums he can hear moans and the movement of flesh against flesh, each door he passes filling in an exact picture of what this place is selling.

Then they get to the end where there’s a small stage and a young man is dancing on some dirty pole.

He’s what could be best defined as a twink in his twenties, skinny with a black thong on, cheap glitter all over his chest and barely dancing to the shitty pop music in the background.

He thinks there’s no one in the room as the girl leaves his drink on a small round table in front of him until he looks to his right.

The blond priest.

He’s wearing his clergy clothes, black shirt and black pants without the white collar, he’s not drinking anything, he’s just looking at the twink with almost hazed eyes.

The color lights hit him and Crowley notices there’s a trail of tears running down his face, silently, without taking his eyes off the dancer, his drink untouched.

After a couple of seconds the music fades out and the young boy stops and gets on his knees to whisper something to the blond man, he shakes his head and pulls out some cash, he hands it to the dancer, smiles sadly while caressing the boys face, then he drops it, takes a single sip from his drink, then finally walks to a back door and leaves.

He doesn’t know why, but his black heart aches.

“Hey, who was that man?” He moves quickly to catch up with the dancer who’s quickly walking backstage to get the glitter off.

“Club policy, can’t tell you” the boy replies as he’s taking off the fake lashes and makeup.

Crowley pulls out a hundred dollar bill.

“I don’t know, really” the boy replies as he stuffs his money on his pink glitter wallet “He comes by every two weeks, watching me dance, leaves some money then leaves”

“You don’t think the cryings a little weird?”

“This is a hidden gay brothel bar in the middle of shittown, nowhere, I don’t ask questions”

Reasonable, Crowley thinks.

“I know-” the boy continues, makeup now off, glitter still stuck on his lower lashes “I know he’s a priest , I’ve seen him around town, but-” he sighs “We all have our secrets in here”

The demon just hums as a reply, before dropping another hundred dollar bill on the kids hands and walking out the door.

Chapter Text

He’s in a park the morning after, still following the beautiful priest.

There’s some sort of park event, there’s moms running behind their rowdy kids as others are selling some sort of foods and candies on plastic tables.

The sky is beautiful, the clouds above giving just enough shelter from the blinding sun, but still Crowley’s wearing a black wife beater just to mitigate the heat a little bit.

The father is sitting down on some bench talking with some young couple, the woman holding a small baby, the priest grabs the baby and smiles down on them, smiling and playing with them.

Someone offers him some food, looks like a cheap hotdog with some chips on a white plastic plate.

The priest refuses with a kind smile and a thank you on his lips.

He hasn’t eaten all day, Crowley knows, he’s been following since morning and he can see his hands shaking as he hands the baby back to the mother’s arms.

The blond priest nods as he moves away and under some tree to look for shelter and now under daylight he can see the small details that he didn’t get to see before; the bags under his eyes, the constant tremors in his hands, the emptiness hiding behind those blue eyes.

He’s getting invested now.

This is a bad idea.

But then again, Crowley is the king of bad ideas at this point.

The beautiful priest sighs, closes his eyes then smiles again as some kids call his name out on the other side of the park, he thinks the kid’s name is Adam, he’s not sure about the rest of his gang, so he just nicknamed them ‘them’.

He’s not planning on staying long enough to care anyways.

People start moving things around once the sun finally goes down, women and men putting things away, saying their goodbyes and what not; the priest helps, his hands shake a lot more and he looks tired.

He still hasn’t eaten anything.

The night is barely falling once almost everyone’s gone from the park, a couple of people chatting with the priest, they offer him something, the priest replies with a no and the people walk away.

It’s only him and the beautiful priest alone in the park now.

He turns and looks straight at Crowley.

Satan , Crowley thinks, he really is beautiful.

“I don’t think I’ve introduced myself” the blond man says and Crowley knows his voice is gonna fill in next wanking fantasy “Father Aziraphale, nice to meet you”

“Crowley” he shakes the other man’s hand, it’s soft .

“I-” he starts, then swallows heavily “I haven’t seen you around here before, are you new?”

“Just passing by, really” he whispers back, he knows where this conversation is going “Nothing to worry about”

“I see” the holy man replies as he looks at Crowley, down to his lips for a minute then finally down at his hands “If you need any money, I-”

“Like I said father” he dares come closer to the other man’s space “ Just passing by ”

There’s a heavy silence between them, it’s not uncomfortable, but it’s heavy with desire, for what? he’s not quite sure.

“Very well, I-” he licks his lips and the serpent wishes to have a taste, to tempt the holy man just once.

But even then, he somehow cares more than he’d like to admit, he doesn’t want this for a simple quick fuck.

Plus, he has a plan to follow through.

“Can I tempt you for dinner, father?” he smiles as he lays a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve been here all day-” he won’t admit he’s been following him all day, too stalkerish “Haven’t seen you eat a single thing”

“I just wasn’t hungry, dear boy” oh, he’s doing terms of endearment now, he cannot not fuck this man “Gluttony is a sin after all”

“And yet, I think a good burger and a milkshake would do ya’ wonders father” he softly caresses the man’s arm “Plus, I’d like to have a conversation with another of the old continent, these yankees keep pissing me off everytime I hear soccer and cookies ”

The priest laughs and it's like a heaven’s choir.

His dick is doing more of the thinking than his head at this point.

“I suppose I could spare some time for a small dinner, yes”

“Wonderful, father” they start walking side by side, even the Bently seems excited “Why don’t I give you a lift? I think I have the perfect spot in mind”

There’s a small diner just on the outskirts of town, big red and fully american by the style of it with greasy cheeseburgers and milkshakes the size of a person’s head.

A perfectly tempting dinner for a starving man.

Whether that means the priest or Crowley, we can’t be sure.

There’s slow country music playing somewhere in the back, the plastic seats under them make for a strangely comforting presence and the empty room with only the clearly high cook and the one single clearly underage waitress gives a picturesque scenery.

They both quickly order some simple cheeseburgers with fries.

“So” starts Crowley.

“So” continuous Father Aziraphale “If I may ask-”

“Ask away, Father”

“What’s a handsome young man such as yourself doing this far from the old country?” Their burgers come in quick “This place hardly seems like a tourist spot to see”

“First of all, Father-”

“Please, call me Aziraphale”

“Well, Aziraphale -” he munches on a fry, greasy and salty, delicious “I’m hardly young really, I figure I’m closer to your age than last nights twink”

Aziraphale chokes on a fry just as he finishes the sentence.

“So I suppose we’re talking about it ”

“Seems hardly fair to not talk about it”

The diner is still deserted, the cook is still high and the waitress is busy finishing her homework on the breakfast bar.

“You said you were just passing by”

“And I am, but a priest in a gay bar, sounds like the beginning of some cheesy porno”

“Well I wouldn’t know, so-”

“So-”

The music has changed, the cook has gone out to smoke some more weed; the waitress is now distracted on her phone.

“Like I said if what you want is money-” his soft hands are greasy and covered in salt, Crowley wants to lick them clean “I have some saving-”

“I don’t want money, Father” he licks his own fingers clean, the other man’s eye follow every lick “Probably some capital offense to blackmail a priest anyways”

“Well what do you want then?”

“A couple of answers, that’s all” he picks at his burger, he’s never been one to eat much anyways “I promise, nothing is getting out of here Father, just curious that’s all”

He’s always been one to want answers to his questions, being the original tempter and all that, the one who gave Eve the apple.

This seems to be enough for the moment and finally the man in front of him relaxes and takes a bite out of his burger and then makes the most pornographic sound Crowley has heard in his six thousand years of demonic existence.

How is this really not the beginning of some cheaply produced eighties porno, the demon asks himself.

“Good?” his tight jeans feel tighter, maybe he should follow the baggy pants trend, easier on him right now.

“I’m sorry, my dear” Aziraphale grabs a napkin and cleans the grease of his lips, Crowley’s never wished to be an inanimate object as much as he wishes right now.

“No, it’s quite alright” he crosses his legs, it’s the best choice of action right now “Good burger, huh?”

“Yes quite” he takes another big bite before putting it back down on the plate “But that’s really enough for me”

“That’s hardly even half of it”

“We must not fall into temptation after all” he cleans his hands with a napkin, looking at the rest of the burger with hungry eyes but yet does not move “Gluttony is a sin”

“Well sure yeah, but a single meal for a day seems hardly good enough for gluttony”

“Some of the most memorable martyrs starved themselves for a holy reason”

“And is there a holy reason to starve yourself, father?”

“Yes” he twists his hands, he looks at the window, refusing to look at the other man “Punishment”

“Are you punishing yourself father? Whatever for?”

“ Please don’t make me say it”

The waitress has finally fallen asleep and now it’s the cook playing with his phone, it’s past midnight at this point.

“I really must go, I-”

“Aziraphale, I’m sorry I didn’t-” he should’ve done this more slowly, he’s never been one for patience “Let me drive you back”

“No, it’s quite alright really” he says as he takes out his wallet and drops a fifty dollar bill on their table “I could do with the walk anyways” 

“Please, it’s past midnight and it’s far from town” he quickly grabs the other man’s hand before he can escape “Please”

The other man looks at their joined hands and stops, the music has changed to something slower, the cook is now sleeping too, his head pillowed on the still sleeping waitress, the hard light above them laying a hard contrast against the heavy darkness waiting just outside.

Finally he sighs and nods, Crowley moves to open the door and with hand on the priest's back, guides him to the bentley.

The car seems to read the mood of the couple, it plays 39’ by Queen quietly, enough to fill the silence but not enough to break it either.

“You never did answer my question, dear”

“Huh?” 

“What are you doing here, so far from our side of the sea?”

“On a job, actually”

“Mh” he says as an answer, he plays with his hands a lot and bites his lip, Crowley looks back to the road “Should I ask what kind of job do you do?”

“Probably not” not yet at least, the demon thinks “Not a good idea”

“I see” he stops playing with his hands, forces them down on the top of his legs.

39’ plays again, the silence is still suffocating.

“I-” he looks at his side of the window, sweat falling down his neck “it’s not what you think”

“None of my business father”

“I don’t go that often”

“Really none of my business”

“It’s just-” he still refuses to look at Crowley “I’m human, I sin”

“Of course”

“I get lonely” he whispers, he sounds like he’s choking “I- sometimes it gets to me, I can’t help it”

“Rather beg for forgiveness than ask for permission” he thinks he came up with that line a couple of centuries ago “I get it”

The man in the passenger seat doesn’t answer, and for a while that’s enough.

They finally get to the church, the priest doesn’t say anything as he gets out the car, looks back for a minute to look at the red haired man in the driver's seat and then goes in.

Crowley drives all the way back to his hotel in silence, falls asleep almost immediately and his dreams are filled with soft hands and blond haired men.

Chapter Text

The church’s bell is the loudest thing in the small town probably, all the oil and factories are well outside this place, so people seem to just accommodate their daily schedule by the time the bell resounds all around town.

It’s midday when Crowley finally ventures back out again. Last night was a disaster, he can admit to that, but again it’s also not his best plan.

The pretty priest still needs to die.

He got a small text on his phone this morning, a couple of souls from the bar are not enough, he needs to make this priest disappear, before they send someone nastier than him.

The Bentley is now parked right at the gates, he can feel the burning holy ground just under the cursed metal, but so far it’s not that bad.

He needs to talk to the priest again but he doesn’t know what to say to start the conversation.

There’s come cute chocolate cupcakes he got from a small business down the road, maybe tempting the priest again would work.

Finally he gets out of the car, sizzling under his feet and finally knocks on the big wooden doors, and a small nun comes out, she’s surprised at his appearance, they always are.

“Good morning” the nun replies as she puts herself between him and the door to the church “Was there something you needed?”

“Yes I’m here to talk to the father” his feet are fucked at this point, hurtful blisters making it hard to pretend without wanting to scream “If he could come out-”

“I’m sorry but father Aziraphale is busy” she replies, a glint in her eyes “You must come to mass later in the day if you want to talk to him”

“I don’t think you understand lady, listen here-” he’s pissed off now, his feet holding to the last string of unburnt skin.

“Excuse me, you-” she replies pointing her finger right between his eyes before they’re interrupted by a voice behind them.

“Is there a problem, sister?” the pretty priest behind her speaks, his eyes landing on Crowley doing a quick hungry look on his open see through black shirt and his tight black jeans before looking back up.

“Yes, this man is-”

“I’ll handle it sister”

“but father-” she whispers on Aziraphale’s face “ He looks like a prostitute ”

“And we are god’s instruments of love, we are no one to judge others” he says with a voice of totality hidden under some kind smile “Now, why don’t you go back on helping the novices, I’m sure they need your help”

The woman only raises her eyebrow as she walks back into the building, saying nothing but a heavy step as she goes back inside.

“Didn’t think I looked that sluttish” that’s a lie, he pulled out this shirt from the bottom of his infinite wardrobe just to tempt the blond holy man.

“Forgive her, she’s too set on her old ways” he whispers conspiratorially “But please dear boy, come on in”

When the priest says this suddenly his feet don’t hurt as much, he can suddenly walk into church with barely any sizzle under his feet, he can feel as the skin slowly grows back.

Maybe the vampires had the right idea then.

“I have my little place right above the church’s offices, if you wouldn’t mind some tea?”

“I’d love some tea, father”

“ Aziraphale , I insist, dear boy”

“Mhh” is the only thing he replies as they both walk to the back garden of the church to head to the stairs next to the small office floor, they climb up until they land in front of a small hallway and a water damaged wooden door.

Aziraphale opens it and walks inside, keeping the door open behind him for Crowley.

The only word to describe it is cozy.

Another would be messy.

Books scattered everywhere, on piles, on couches, everywhere; dry tea cups all over the place, half finished candles and notebooks all over the desk, old paintings on the walls, blankets and pillows on the old couch and chairs.

It’s comforting.

“I’m so sorry about the mess, I wasn’t expecting anyone really”

“Do you get a lot of people up here?”

“Not really” he whispers back, there’s deep sadness in that admission “Is chamomile okay?”

“Sure, I like chamomile” he looks around, everywhere he looks he can picture the other man just lazing around on the couch, a cup of tea on one hand, a book on the other.

“Here” a cup is laid in front of him, a platter of chocolate cookies too “Hope it’s not to hot”

“I’m sure it’s not” it is, but he’s not gonna say anything to make the other man unhappy, his tongue is used to hellfire anyways.

“So-” the other man starts as he quietly blows on his cup before taking a sip and burning his tongue “You must’ve come here for a reason”

Crowley doesn’t want to start and for the first time since his creation, he wishes he was human, to be just another story in the infinite book of life and run away with this beautiful man in front of him.

But there aren’t happy endings, not for him at least.

You’d think he learned his lesson back when his wings first burned to coal. 

“I have a confession to make father”

“Speak freely, my dear”

“You won’t like it”

“Maybe, but I’d still want you to tell me”

Silence passes between them, the noise of the city filling in as a background song.

Finally Crowley takes off his glasses.

“Demon” Aziraphale whispers, he doesn’t sound scared, more like stating a fact, he doesn’t even move.

“Surprised you aren’t running scared right now”

“Should I be? Running scared?”

“That’s the usual reaction”

“You’ve done this before” he replies, the tea untouched between them “Temptation”

“I am the original serpent that tempted Eve, so yeah I’ve done this countless times before, Aziraphale”

“You’re here to tempt me, then”

“I’m here to kill you, father” he doesn’t wanna specify on how the death is supposed to be carried out by a suicide, he doesn’t even want to be having this conversation right now.

“ Oh. ”

The light rushing through the window runs down the holy man’s face, his blue eyes and golden hair remind Crowley of the story of the painter who went insane after seeing his muse for the first time, she looked at him once amongst the crowd and he lost it.

He understands him now.

“Well, I suppose- ” he takes a sip of his tea “I should’ve seen this coming”

“It has nothing to with you”

“I’m a sinner”

“So is everyone, it’s a human thing”

“No, it’s my fault” he whispers back, his eyes suddenly look somewhere far away, his hands move everywhere and land nowhere “It’s my fault it’s my fault, it’s always been my fault”

The blond man’s hands are shaking, his eyes teary as his breath gets shorter; Crowley feels like he’s missing something important, but he’s also scared of what the answer is.

“Father-”

“I’ve tempted those that were supposed to protect me” his clearly getting a panic attack, his eyes are looking everywhere and nowhere at the same time “I’ve lead them into temptation and destroyed those I love in the process”

“Father-” this is getting out of hand, this was not part of the plan “Aziraphale please-”

“You are right to drag me down to hell, boy” his voice is wet and hoarse “I deserve only punishment, for my sins are too great and I can only spend the rest of eternity atoning for it”

Aziraphale finally stops rambling and tries to breathe calmly, he puts his hands on the table as they keep shaking, the tea has spilled all over the small round table between them and Crowley is afraid to ask for an explanation, but he knows it’s too late now to back down.

“I’m afraid to ask-” he moves his tea cup and slowly moves his hands to cover the other man’s “But if you- if you trust me enough-”

“I trust you more than enough-”

“We’ve known each other for barely a week-”

“And yet you’ve given me more of your time and kindness than anyone I’ve ever met”

And isn’t that just fucking sad, Crowley thinks.

“Okay” he replies, his hands kneading softly the other one’s fingers “Then please, tell me what do you mean-”

“I’ve tempted people into doing horrible things to-”

“To you?” he doesn’t like where this is going.

“Yes” he whispers, with an unsettling quiet following.

“Aziraphale-”

“My father was right to- he was right to punish me- I-”

“Okay, this is enough-” Crowley gets up and kneels down next to the priest “That’s not-”

“No you don’t understand” Aziraphale rushes up, throwing Crowley into the ground, the bigger man starts taking his shirt off, only to turn his back to the demon.

The priest’s back is destroyed, filled with endless scars and patches of missing skin, and worst of all, some of them look fresh.

“Father-” his hands are shaking, he’s frozen.

“My father was right, the only way to wash away all my sins is through punishment, and so I try, every day, every night and day to seek forgiveness the only way I know how”

“Azi-”

“Ever since I was child, I tempted good men- I ruined them-”

“ Oh ”

“It was my fault” there’s a horrible silence in the room, Crowley’s feet are stuck to the floor, this is worse than anything he could’ve imagined “I did that, I forced them- I-”

“You’re a victim-”

“And yet I seek the same thing every night-” he’s on his knees, resigned, exhausted “A seek for another man's touch, I ask for the same thing, the same horrible thing”

“Aziraphale” he gets off the floor and stands in front of the crying priest “That’s not the same thing”

“If I enjoyed back then-”

“You were a child , Aziraphale” his hands touch the other man's cheeks, even with tears and snot down his face he looks like a renaissance painting “ You should’ve been protected ”

Crowley’s already planning how to painfully kill every single one of these men who’s ever hurt the priest, but right now, he’s needed here.

The holy man falls into his arms as if exhausted, the demon manages to catch him in his arms as the other man rests; he’s not crying, at least no more than a few tears, but he does not move away from the demon’s arms.

After a while the blond man retreats and tries to clean his face with his bare hands, his back still bright red, some having dried blood peeling off.

“I’m so sorry dear boy, this must be too much for you” he says looking for his shirt on the floor.

“I’m a demon, I’ve seen worse” he replies as he hands the white shirt over.

“Oh” as if just remembering what they were talking about “Of course, I-”

“Aziraphale” his left hand going to the other’s cheek, the priest closes his eyes as he rests “I don’t want to hurt you”

“If you must-”

“No, I refuse to” why the priest is so comfortable with the idea of dying is something he’s definitely analyzing later, but not right now, not after all of this “I will never hurt you, and I will never let anyone hurt you again”

“Mhh” it’s the only thing the other replies, his head falling heavier on Crowley's shoulder “I’m exhausted”

“You just had a panic attack, of course you’re tired”

“I haven’t had one of those in years” he turns his head to look into the golden serpentine eyes “I used to get them weekly at random times”

“That can’t be healthy” he pushes his hands through the other man’s soft hair “I’m sorry”

“They would just come out of nowhere”

“I very much doubt that, angel”

“Angel?” Aziraphale asks, the serpent doesn’t reply as he slowly helps the priest to his feet.

“You need some sleep, let’s take you to bed, c’mon on” his hand on the bigger man’s waist is a solid comfort after the evening they’ve had.

“I didn’t even notice when the sun came down” the priest replies as he sits down on the edge of his bed.

“It’s barely dawn” he answers back as he takes off the other man’s shoes “It’s still early”

“Thank you, my dear” he says as he picks the corner of the blanket and moves up to lay under it.

“I’ll leave you to it, I’ll-” he stands to go but a hand stops him.

“Don’t leave me alone, please”

“Father, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me-”

“I just don’t want to be alone” his eyes look sunken, overall tired and sad “Not yet at least” 

“Fine” he sits on the small worn out single seat brown couch right next to the bed “I’ll wait here for a while”

“Thank you” he holds out his hand for Crowley to hold as he closes his eyes and drifts off after a while.

Each minute that passes the serpent understands why artists killed for their muses.