Work Text:
London, 1941
Aziraphale had loved Crowley for an awfully long time. Angels were beings of love, after all. And Crowley had long been the only friend he had, even if he couldn’t label their relationship as such the last time they’d met.
Now, though, he found himself experiencing an entirely different sort of feeling. As if his heart was swelling, beating too fast, aching with… something. And he was dizzy. And couldn’t quite catch his breath.
Perhaps he was ill?
He clutched the book bag and tried to catch his breath as he watched Crowley saunter away. No. No, he wasn’t ill. There was no reason for him to be ill, and there was another possible cause for this, a cause he was only familiar with from books. From romance novels.
Was he in love?
Crowley paused, turning back to him, and raised an eyebrow. “Coming, angel?”
“Oh. Oh yes.” Aziraphale rushed after him, head still spinning. He fell in step beside Crowley at once. “Um.”
He couldn’t think of anything to say. Once, he’d assumed that their reunion might be awkward, given their last meeting. But this sudden inability to speak wasn’t related to that, not at all. He simply had no idea how to cope with the sudden deluge of feelings, the longing to get closer to Crowley.
To get much, much closer to Crowley.
Dazed, Aziraphale followed Crowley out through the rubble of the church and to an impossibly shiny car. It ought to have been dusty, but it looked spectacular. Very stylish.
Aziraphale glanced at Crowley’s calm but undeniably pleased expression. “Is this yours?”
“You didn’t think I was gonna give you a lift home in a horse drawn carriage, did you?” The tiniest of smiles quirked onto Crowley’s face, softening the sarcasm.
“No, I suppose not.” Although at the moment, Aziraphale thought it might be unbelievably wonderful to go for a ride in a horse drawn carriage with Crowley.
Then again, given Crowley’s history with horses, perhaps not.
Hardly able to take his eyes off Crowley for even a moment, Aziraphale sank into the car. He rested the book bag on his lap, still holding onto it tightly, as if for emotional support. And oh, when the doors closed, they were simply so close together…
Oh dear. Aziraphale swallowed hard. Yes. Yes, he rather suspected he might be in love with Crowley.
---
Crowley couldn’t stop shaking, a subtle but pervasive trembling through his whole body. Just too much stress in one day, that was all. Too many close calls.
Rescuing Aziraphale from the church. Pointing a gun at Aziraphale onstage. Getting caught with Aziraphale by Furfur, nearly dragged down to Hell, separated forever…
Dizzy, Crowley took another gulp of wine. Not that getting drunk would help much, with dizziness. But maybe it would take the edge off the fear, the fear that refused to fully abate now, back in the bookshop.
He exhaled slowly and pulled the photograph closer again, studying it. Him and Aziraphale onstage, with the rifle.
“We’ve never had our picture taken before,” he said, managing not to sound like he was on the verge of a panic attack.
“What?” Aziraphale had been looking off towards the window with a slight frown, but he turned back to Crowley now. “Of course we have. On a few occasions, I believe. Just after it was invented, you were so insistent on trying out the latest technology, so you—”
“No, I know we’ve had it done separately.” He swallowed hard and tapped a finger on the edge of the picture. “But not together.”
“Oh,” Aziraphale said softly, smiling again. “Yes. That’s quite true. And that was awfully fun, being onstage together.”
“It was not.” Crowley shuddered, a chill sweeping through his whole body. “Only you could have me rescue you from a bunch of people pointing guns at you, then turn around and say, Know what would be terrific? If you pointed a gun at me.”
Aziraphale chuckled and patted Crowley’s arm. “I suppose it was a bit silly of me. But you were simply magnificent. I knew you could do it.”
“Nnnh.” Crowley was still trembling, which had gotten seriously annoying. “At least we got a souvenir out of it, eh?”
He indicated the picture, intending to smile in return. But his smile shattered almost at once, a fresh wave of shudders rushing through him. It had been so close. If he’d missed with the rifle, or if Aziraphale hadn’t pulled off that sleight of hand…
Aziraphale’s warm hand closed around his, pulling him back from the thoughts of a dark, dank cell in the very depths of Hell. “Crowley, it’s all right. Furfur has no proof at all. You’re safe. And even if…”
At the hesitation, Crowley looked up. He searched Aziraphale’s face, heart racing. “Even if what?”
After a deep breath, Aziraphale held his gaze. The hazel eyes, usually so soft, became intense, determined. “Even if he tries anything, I have brought you here. To my embassy. Furfur cannot cross that threshold. If anyone comes here, intending you harm, I shall not let them have you.”
The words slammed into Crowley, leaving him breathless. He stared at Aziraphale, the whole rest of the world vanishing, and opened his mouth to say something. Thank you, maybe. Or to ask if he was sure he wanted to take that risk for a demon.
Instead, what came out was, “Can I kiss you?”
He froze, horrified. Nononono, that was exactly the sort of thing that would freak Aziraphale out. Aziraphale had only gotten used to calling them friends, he’d never—
“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed, holding Crowley’s hand more tightly. “Please do.”
Crowley’s remaining self control crumbled. He leaned forward, curling his hand around the back of Aziraphale’s neck, and kissed him.
It was probably an awful kiss. He had no idea what he was doing. But Aziraphale whimpered, leaning into the contact, and all worries evaporated.
The worries returned almost as soon as Crowley drew back. He scrambled for an excuse, just in case Aziraphale wanted one. “Er. Dunno what came over me. Musta been the wine. Or something.”
“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale said in a dreamy tone. He looked completely intoxicated now, and it couldn’t be from the alcohol. “Certainly something.”
Clearing his throat, Crowley dropped his gaze. His heart still raced, but a dizzy sort of pleasure remained. “Seriously, I don’t know where that came from. I just really, really wanted…”
He ran out of words to express himself, and just went back to staring at Aziraphale. He’d loved Aziraphale for bloody ages. Couldn’t help it, no matter how annoying that fact was. He and Aziraphale were best friends.
The current urge to just keep kissing Aziraphale was new, though. And Crowley had no idea what to do with it.
Aziraphale smiled at him, corners of his eyes crinkling. “How would you like to go sit on the sofa together, my dear? You’re looking a touch overwhelmed.”
Crowley nodded. He let Aziraphale take his hand, pull him upright, and lead him to the sofa. When they sat, Aziraphale put both arms around him, holding him close.
Right now, Crowley was way too tired to work out what these new feelings were. But being close to Aziraphale felt incredibly good. Like this was where he was meant to be.
---
Aziraphale kept his arms around Crowley, holding him gently. A small miracle had started a record playing, and “A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square” drifted through the bookshop.
It was nice, simply sitting like this together. Neither of them had spoken in several minutes, merely sharing the comfort of each other’s presence and love.
It was love. Aziraphale was fully sure of that now. He and Crowley had both experienced something new tonight, something special.
He shifted his position a bit, running slow, careful strokes across Crowley’s hair. Crowley let out a quiet noise of contentment, snuggling closer, and Aziraphale pressed a kiss to the red hair.
Hopefully, he could talk Crowley into staying the night. It would make him feel better to have the poor old dear safely sheltered here, in the bookshop. Where no one could touch him.
And then tomorrow, they’d likely return to their normal lives. To clandestine meetings, to stolen moments together. They were on Opposite Sides, after all.
But although the future was uncertain, Aziraphale was sure of one thing. This new love that they shared would only grow stronger as the years went by.