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It had been a long day. In only twenty-four hours, Aziraphale had watched Heaven sanction the destruction of a poor man and his family, seen a demon behave more magnanimously than his fellow angels, faked the birth of triplets, and lied to his superiors’ faces. He’d then spent the better part of the afternoon staring out at the sea, wondering what to make of all of this, and was still no closer to having an answer.
Crawley had joined him for the latter part. At least until he’d begged off somewhere, claiming that he had unfinished business to attend to. Though Aziraphale was reasonably sure this was a thinly veiled excuse to give them both some time alone, he was still appreciative. And he was even more appreciative when Crawley returned a while later, insistent on dragging him to a party thrown by Job and Sitis to celebrate their new fortune.
Aziraphale had hemmed and hawed the appropriate amount before finally agreeing to go if only to thwart Crawley’s wiles. He was fairly certain he’d even sounded convincing when he said it. It wouldn’t do for him to let on how pleased he was for an excuse to spend more time together, especially when he couldn’t admit it to himself.
They’d spent the better part of the evening sitting on the sidelines. Aziraphale was perfectly content to watch the humans mingle and to listen to Crawley’s running commentary, full of colourful remarks on who coveted their neighbour’s spouse, who coveted their neighbour’s goods, and who coveted nothing more than a second trip to the banquet table. Aziraphale had done his due diligence throughout, which mostly consisted of shushing Crawley while trying to hold back a laugh.
It was all great fun, and if either he or Crawley were surprised by how well they got on, they didn’t show it. In fact, despite the occasional bickering about a relatively mundane topic, there hadn’t been a real disagreement between the two of them. It seemed that for now, the events of the prior twenty-four hours had been left behind, and they’d come to a tacit agreement not to talk about anything remotely related to the Almighty’s Ineffable Plan or Job’s place in it.
Somehow, this agreement didn’t cover talk of Job’s children, which in hindsight might have been a good idea.
Crawley was currently engaged in his patented sprawl, his head propped up on one hand as he regarded Aziraphale across the fire. Aziraphale maintained his typical ramrod-straight posture, as if sitting comfortably was the work of the devil.
Ennon, Keziah, and Jemimah had just come by to thank them one last time before they retreated for the night. Ennon had even apologised for his rude behaviour, going so far as to offer Aziraphale a jug of wine as penance, which Aziraphale had politely insisted wasn’t necessary. Crawley had gleefully accepted it in his stead, snatching it out of the boy’s hands and instructing him to “go chat up someone of your own species.” Ennon, whose communication style wasn’t all that different from Crawley’s, had simply rolled his eyes before sauntering off after his sisters.
“It was quite funny, you know,” Aziraphale said as they watched the trio of them wander away, “how they mistook you for an angel.”
“Not really.” Crawley held the wine up in a mock toast before downing it in one go, which Aziraphale tried and failed not to find impressive. “They’ve only ever encountered angels. How else should they have reacted?”
Aziraphale shrugged. “I’m not sure. But,” he added, puffing out his chest slightly, “I do know that they had no trouble taking me for an angel.”
Crawley snickered. “Of course not. You’re practically the spitting image of an angel.” He gestured flippantly at Aziraphale, splashing the last few droplets of wine around as he did. “You were wearing all white and gold, radiating love, peace, and harmony like it’s nobody’s business, and had the same annoyingly smug expression all angels love to use when they’re doing good.” He raised an eyebrow and regarded Aziraphale with a smirk, which made Aziraphale’s insides jump in a manner that he wasn’t entirely sure was healthy.
“Yes, well, typically the humans are a bit more pleased to see me. Once they’re done screaming, that is,” Aziraphale said, looking a tad chagrined. “Although the oldest one—what was his name? Ennon?—didn’t seem too put out, I suppose.”
Crawley snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”
“What do you mean?” Aziraphale eyed him curiously. “How else would you possibly put it?”
“I just think that ‘pleased’ is putting it lightly, is all,” Crawley said, easing further into his languid pose.
Aziraphale didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. “I suppose it makes sense that you wouldn’t know what to make of it,” Aziraphale said haughtily. “Seeing as how most humans aren’t pleased to see you.”
Crawley stared at him, and Aziraphale wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt as if he were on the back foot. Then Crawley said, “You do realise he was flirting with you, right?”
“He was what?” Aziraphale’s eyes widened, and his mouth fell so open it was almost comedic. “Flirting? No…that can’t be! He’s only a child!”
“He’s twenty years old, Aziraphale. It’s perfectly natural for someone his age to be flirting with strangers. That’s practically all humans do when they’re in their twenties.” Then, as if suddenly noticing Aziraphale’s slightly befuddled expression, Crawley raised an eyebrow. “You do know what flirting is, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” Aziraphale said, not meeting his gaze.
“Are you sure?” Crawley narrowed his eyes. “What does it mean then?”
“It means that he...that he...well, rather, it means he, erm, you know…” Aziraphale trailed off, his eyes darting back and forth nervously. “That he was flirting with me.” He added an extra emphasis on the word as if that was all the explanation necessary.
Crawley started cackling. “You don’t know!” Crawley said, pointing a finger at him. “You have no idea what the word means!”
Aziraphale glared at him. “Maybe not, but I know it’s a bad thing, or you wouldn’t be so eager to point it out!”
“Aziraphale, I am wounded,” Crawley responded, putting a hand over his heart in mock woe. “How could you think so little of me?”
“Because you’re a demon,” Aziraphale retorted. “And you wouldn’t have such a giddy smirk on your face if it was something for me to be proud of.”
Crawley continued cackling, while Aziraphale continued to glare at him, growing more and more impatient by the moment. Finally, he stomped his foot on the ground.
“Stop it, Crawley!” he shouted. “You’re being terribly rude right now.”
“It’s my job, isn’t it?” Crawley barely managed between laughs. “Like you said, I’m a demon, aren’t I?”
“Yes, well, demon or not,” Aziraphale sniffed, “all I asked for was a short explanation of what you thought was so comedic about our encounter, and here you are mocking me—”
“Mocking you?” Crawley paused to give Aziraphale an odd look. “How am I mocking you?”
“Because you’re…you’re…you’re laughing and refusing to tell me why you’re laughing,” Aziraphale said, indignantly. “Not to mention you’ve been tempting me to food and wine left and right, pretending to be interested in having a real conversation just to get a rise out of me.” He rolled his eyes. “I know you’re a demon and all, but fabricating stories about the children is low, even for you.”
Crawley snickered. “Fabricating stories? I was literally kicked out of Heaven for my vast imagination, and you think I have nothing better to do than ‘fabricate stories’ about some kids?” He shook his head in amazement, regarding Aziraphale with a fond expression that didn’t match his words. “I knew you were stubborn, but I didn’t think you were that much of an idiot.”
Aziraphale said nothing, though his cheeks were now pink with anger.
“What’s the issue, Aziraphale?” Crawley went on. “Embarrassed that a demon knows something you don’t? Or,” he shifted slightly closer to Aziraphale, just inside the limit of what would be considered proper personal space, and grinned wickedly, “is it just because you have a problem with me personally?”
“Don’t be absurd,” Aziraphale huffed. “I don’t know you well enough to have a problem with you.”
Crawley stopped laughing and gave Aziraphale a strange look. “No, I don’t suppose you do,” he said, his yellow eyes belying a deep disappointment that Aziraphale couldn’t fathom a need for. He was the one who’d been insulted, after all. If anything, he should be disappointed in Crawley’s behaviour.
Crawley moved back to his original spot, and Aziraphale let go of the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. They sat in tense silence for a moment, both looking anywhere but at each other’s faces.
Finally, Aziraphale spoke. “I don’t understand what’s so funny about the whole thing,” he said, sounding rather petulant despite his best efforts. He chanced a look at Crawley, who happened to be regarding him curiously as well. “And there’s really no need to insult me. I know you’re a demon and all, and you’re required to be evil, but there’s really no need to be rude.”
It was Crawley’s turn for his cheeks to turn red, and he had the decency to look embarrassed.
Aziraphale, sensing he was on the right track, went on. “To think that I’ve spent all evening with you, having a perfectly lovely time, only to have you turn around and call me names.” He shook his head in mock disgust. “I’d expect that kind of thing from one of your colleagues since they don’t know any better, but you’ve been on Earth long enough to have some manners. To think that even Hastur could have been more polite. He probably would have at least explained the concept to me before laughing in my face. Maybe I should go ask him about it.”
“Alright, alright,” Crawley said, waving a hand at him, chagrined. “Enough of that. I’ll explain what flirting is if only so you stop going on about bloody Hastur.”
Aziraphale sat up even straighter than before and started patting his robes. “Should I take notes?” he asked earnestly, debating whether or not he should miracle up a writing implement of some sort.
“Should you take…” Crawley looked flabbergasted. “No, you shouldn’t take notes! What are you planning to do, go flirt with someone else?”
“Maybe,” Aziraphale said matter-of-factly. “I won’t know until you tell me what it is.”
Crawley rolled his eyes and mumbled something Aziraphale didn’t catch. Then he sat up and slapped his hands on his knees.
“Right,” he said. “Flirting.” He shot Aziraphale a smile with too many teeth, and Aziraphale briefly reconsidered his desire for an explanation. “The simple explanation is: it’s a way to demonstrate that you’re interested in someone.”
He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and paused for effect. Aziraphale just looked at him blankly.
“Does that mean you’re flirting with me right now?”
Crawley’s eyes went wide, and he nearly fell over in shock. “Nghh, what? What do you mean? Why would you ask me that?”
Aziraphale scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion. “Well, obviously you’re interested in me,” he said, sounding a bit taken aback. “Why would you be talking to me otherwise? I know for a fact you’re not up to any official business right now.”
Crawley continued staring at him for a moment before reverting to a more neutral expression. There was a pink tinge to his cheeks that Aziraphale couldn’t help but notice. “Not that kind of interested. I’m talking about interested in a more intimate way.” When Aziraphale’s expression didn’t change, he added, “I’m referring to romantic interest.”
“Ah, I see,” Aziraphale said. “Not quite the interest I had in mind.”
Crawley chuckled, but it sounded hollow to Aziraphale’s ears. “No, I didn’t think so.”
They sat in silence as Aziraphale’s brain worked to synthesise this new piece of information. After a brief moment, the angel gasped.
“You mean to tell me that—that—that Ennon was romantically interested in me?” Aziraphale’s eyes were wide with horror. “Why would he do that? He’s a human, and I’m an—an angel! He knows this, doesn’t he?” He caught Crawley’s eyes for a moment before he gazed down at his hands and started fidgeting with his ring. “Please tell me he knows this. Please tell me I didn’t somehow give off the impression that I was a human. I’m reasonably sure I said I was an angel. In fact, I think it was one of the first things I said!”
“Calm down,” Crawley said, holding his hands out as if calming a spooked horse. “Yes, he knows you’re an angel. Pretty sure anyone that’s ever interacted with you for more than ten seconds knows you’re an angel.”
Aziraphale didn’t seem relieved by this at all. In fact, he got up and started pacing. “Did I do something to make him think I was interested? I don’t think I did, but how would I know? I didn’t know what to look out for. I didn’t even know there was something to look out for!”
“Relax, Aziraphale! You’re making me dizzy with all that back and forth.”
Crawley stood, made his way over to Aziraphale, and grabbed one of his arms. Aziraphale turned instantly and stopped, his eyes casting down to Crawley’s arm on his bicep. He looked back at Crawley’s face and bit his lip.
“What do I do?” he said, his voice wavering slightly. “Should I find him and explain the situation? Should I tell his parents? Should I tell Gabriel?”
“Definitely don’t do that. His parents would probably be mortified, and I doubt Gabriel has any idea how human relationships work.” Crawley gave Aziraphale’s arm a squeeze before letting his hand fall back to his side. “He still thinks children come from ribs, you know.”
“Yes, I suppose he does,” Aziraphale concurred. “Still—”
“Still nothing, Aziraphale. You’re getting yourself worked up for no reason. You haven’t done anything wrong. Nobody got the wrong impression, and nobody was hurt. At worst, you might’ve bruised Ennon’s pride by not returning his interest, but his ego seems pretty secure. In fact, he probably forgot about you completely until now.” He shot Aziraphale a smile that was surprisingly sweet for a creature cursed with eternal damnation. “Stop beating yourself up and come sit back down.”
“That’s not as comforting as you might think it is,” Aziraphale muttered, but he acquiesced and took his seat again.
Crawley plopped back down himself with a snort. “I turned him into a lizard, angel. I doubt he had much on his mind other than that.”
“Good point.”
The two of them sat in silence for a moment before Aziraphale spoke again.
“Crawley,” he asked innocently, “how is one meant to tell the difference?”
Crawley lifted an eyebrow. “Hm?”
“How do you know if someone is flirting with you or if they’re simply being nice?” Aziraphale looked at him quizzically. “It seems like the two could be easily confused.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of the fun of it,” Crawley said with a wink. “Keeps them guessing.”
“Surely there has to be some type of hint,” Aziraphale said. “Otherwise, I fear I’m doomed to misinterpret any interaction as romantic interest.”
Crawley nodded in understanding. “There are a few tells,” he admitted. “Things like them giving you loads of compliments, making a lot of eye contact, using any excuse to touch you, or trying a pick-up line.” He looked down and avoided Aziraphale’s eyes before adding, “It’s also a dead giveaway if they call you by a pet name.”
Aziraphale tilted his head. “What’s a pick-up line? Or a pet name, for that matter?”
“Something you’ll have to figure out for yourself, angel.” Crawley stretched languidly and stood up. “Looks like most people have left for the evening, but I’m not ready to turn in yet. How do you feel about continuing the conversation elsewhere?”
Aziraphale smiled sweetly at him. “I think I might enjoy that.”
“Fantastic,” Crawley said. Then, with a smirk he added, “So, your place or mine?”