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Aziraphale eyes the cat in Crowley’s lap skeptically.
Nico - named after, Crowley assures him, an exceptional singer who famously collaborated with The Velvet Underground - has become a permanent fixture in their lives ever since they prevented the second coming. Aziraphale was surprised, to say the least, when he returned from heaven and Crowley sauntered into the bookshop with the huge black cat draped over his shoulder. But Nico was apparently the mastermind behind Crowley’s infiltration of heaven, and Aziraphale had been told in no uncertain terms that she was staying. Indeed, the two had been inseparable ever since, and whenever Crowley shows up at the bookshop, Nico is always with him.
Aziraphale doesn’t quite know how to feel about the cat. She has the sharpest eyes Aziraphale has ever seen, apart from Crowley’s, and something about her puts Aziraphale on edge. She’s incredibly standoffish with him, and whenever he approaches her, her back raises and her sleek hair stands on end. She hisses and scratches and howls, so Aziraphale keeps his distance. The feeling is mutual, anyway: whenever Crowley visits, Nico leaves black hairs all over the bookshop, and the scent of cat lingers long after she’s gone.
So, yes, Aziraphale has a complicated relationship with the cat, not least because whenever Crowley approaches her, Nico turns positively angelic. She rubs against Crowley’s legs and meows, and Crowley scratches under her chin and calls her a million variations of good girl as if she hadn’t spent the last hour scratching at Aziraphale’s bookcases. It’s hard not to feel a sense of rejection, but Aziraphale is not really a cat, or any sort of pet, person, so it’s easy enough to brush it off.
…Or at least, that’s what he tells himself. But when Aziraphale watches her sleeping in Crowley’s lap, curled up like a kitten, he can’t help but feel a pang.
Crowley looks up from his phone, catching his gaze, and Aziraphale startles. His lips part as if he’s going to speak, but then he changes his mind. He turns back to his book with a little ache in his chest.
So maybe it isn’t just the cat that Aziraphale has a complicated relationship with. Crowley feels far away, despite the fact that he’s just across from Aziraphale. Aziraphale can’t help but think that Nico distrusts him because Crowley does, too, and the thought bothers him immensely.
One evening Crowley turns up to the bookshop wearing a sleek v-neck top covered in glitter, with leather trousers to match, and the cat curled in his arms.
“Evening, Aziraphale.” Crowley drawls. Aziraphale looks at him for a moment, feeling a little breathless. He’s had this feeling - as if his heart is being squeezed tightly - for as long as he remembers. “Can I have a favour?”
“Yes, of course.” Aziraphale says, masking the ache in his chest perfectly. He’s had centuries of practice, after all. “What do you need?”
“There’s a classic rock night downtown.” Crowley says. “And Nico doesn’t like being alone. Could you take care of her? It’ll just be a few hours.”
Aziraphale’s jaw tenses.
“No problem at all, dear.” Aziraphale says, through gritted teeth. Nico is staring at him, and Aziraphale shifts uncomfortably.
“Ta.” Crowley says.
“Not at all.” He replies, more gentle this time. Crowley tilts his head, and they consider each other. Aziraphale swallows. He takes Crowley in - dark lips, lined eyes, sharp heels - and feels like he’s seeing him anew.
His eyes flicker to Crowley’s mouth, pretty and dark with some kind of lipstick, and his chest squeezes tighter.
There’s an awkwardness between them that wasn’t there before Crowley kissed him and Aziraphale left for heaven. They’d apologised to each other upon Aziraphale’s return, citing it all as a misunderstanding, but they can’t quite get back into the same comfortable dynamic they had before the second coming. It’s as if the pieces don’t fit properly anymore.
Crowley clears his throat. He sets Nico down, and she turns up her nose at Aziraphale and prowls immediately to the window. She leaps up onto the ledge, staring out into Soho’s streets.
“She’s, er, she’s got her bowl and her food here.” Crowley says, passing them to Aziraphale. “And her toy.”
He gives Aziraphale the snake toy that Nico always carries around in her mouth, and Aziraphale’s lips twitch. Crowley, when he first showed it to Aziraphale, acted as if it was the most hilarious thing in the world, and cackled at Aziraphale’s disapproval.
“You sure it’s okay if she stays?” Crowley asks. He bites his lip, and his eyes flicker to the cat on the window ledge.
“Fine by me.” Aziraphale says primly. “But perhaps you should ask her that.”
Crowley raises an eyebrow. He walks up to Nico and gives her ears a rub.
“You’ll behave, won’t you?” He asks. She looks up at him, and Aziraphale can’t help it - his heart softens. He can feel the love between them.
Crowley turns back to Aziraphale.
“See you after, yeah?”
Aziraphale smiles, and Crowley looks at him a moment longer before nodding and turning away. He saunters out into the night, and Aziraphale steps over to the window to watch him leave. His eyes linger on the Bentley as it speeds out of sight.
“Well.” Aziraphale says to the cat. “I suppose it’s just you and me, then.”
Nico stretches and lays down on the window ledge. Aziraphale gives her a polite nod before going back to his desk to read. They stay like that in a companionable silence, with Aziraphale reading and Nico sleeping, and it isn’t so bad, not really.
After about an hour, Nico yawns and stands. She pounces from the window ledge and begins a slow prowl around the bookshop, sniffing curiously at bookshelves and the carpet. Aziraphale’s eyes flicker to watch her. She’s surprisingly docile tonight, calm and sleepy in a way she isn’t usually in Aziraphale’s company.
Aziraphale turns back to his book, until he’s startled by a flurry of movement. The cat has jumped onto his desk, and she perches on top of a closed book, watching him. Aziraphale blinks at her. This is the closest they’ve ever been. He doesn’t dare move, in fear of scaring her away.
“Oh!” He says. “Hello!”
Nico stares at him a moment longer. She sniffs at his cup of tea, and then her little pink tongue darts out to have a taste. Aziraphale tenses, but tries not to show his distaste, knowing that she might sense it. He reminds himself that he doesn’t really care what Nico thinks of him, but it’s not very convincing.
She stares at him a moment longer, and then mercifully, she jumps down from the desk and continues her prowling. Aziraphale lets out a relieved breath. He feels very much like he passed some sort of test.
When Crowley returns, merry and more than a little tipsy, Nico has returned to her spot by the window, and Aziraphale has returned to his reading. They look up at the same time when Crowley enters.
“Hello, hello.” Crowley booms, upon his entrance. He scoops Nico up in his arms immediately and gives her tiny head a kiss. Then he turns his gaze to Aziraphale, who, despite himself, is smiling at them. “How has she been?”
“Do you know,” Aziraphale says warmly, “She was almost pleasant.”
“Well!” Crowley laughs. His eyes crinkle, and Aziraphale feels impossibly fond of him. “Who would’ve thought it?”
Crowley fusses over Nico a moment longer and then begins to gather up her things.
“I suppose we should be getting back.” He says.
“Oh.” Aziraphale pauses. “I see.”
Crowley glances at him.
“It’s just- I, ah, I have several bottles of red in the back that are just waiting to be cracked open.” Aziraphale says. He plays with his fingers. “If you’d like.”
“Er. I-“ Crowley looks away from him. His grin fades, just slightly. “Better not. Nico’s tired.”
The cat yawns obediently.
“Yes.” Aziraphale says, swallowing his disappointment. “That’s that, then.”
Crowley shifts uncomfortably. Aziraphale hardly recognises him like this, all shy and sheepish and afraid.
“Well.” Aziraphale steps towards the door. “Goodnight, then, Crowley.”
“Night, ang-“ Crowley stops himself. He swallows, tries again. “Night, Aziraphale.”
It’s torturously polite. It isn’t them. Aziraphale feels incredibly lonely as he opens the bookshop door. Crowley steps through it, and as he does, their shoulders brush. They both startle away from each other.
“Night.” Crowley says again, and then he’s gone.
Nico is wrapped tight in his arms as he climbs into the Bentley. Aziraphale watches them disappear into the night, and sighs.
The bookshop feels incredibly empty as Aziraphale sits back at his desk and opens his book. Every now and then his eyes drift to the window ledge, as if he’s expecting a cat to be curled up there.
“Where did you find her?” Aziraphale asks, one afternoon, sat across from Crowley in the local coffee shop. Nico is curled underneath Crowley’s chair, and the little demonic miracle Crowley performed when they entered means nobody notices her lying there.
Crowley throws back his mug and drains his six-shot coffee in one before replying. Nina, bless her, has their orders memorised. She even throws in a free cake or pastry for Aziraphale from time to time. Today, it’s a lovely strawberry tart.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Crowley asks. There’s coffee stains beside his mouth, and Aziraphale wants to rub them away with his thumb, but he doesn’t dare. Instead, he simply shakes his head. “I found her one night in an alleyway. She was curled up asleep in a cardboard box, skinny as anything, on the verge of death.”
“I see.” Aziraphale murmurs.
“I took her home with me.” Crowley says. He looks uncomfortable admitting this. “Fixed her up. I tried finding a home for her, but she’s old. No one wanted her.”
“Except for you.” Aziraphale says, with warmth. Crowley shrugs.
“I suppose.” He mumbles.
“It was incredibly nice of you.”
“Aziraphale.” Crowley says lowly. “Don’t.”
Aziraphale holds up his hands in a gesture of peace. Still, he can’t help himself. He continues.
“But it was.” He insist. “You’re incredibly kind sometimes, you know.”
“I am not kind!” Crowley replies, sharp and loud, but when Nico startles at his tone, he ducks under the table and gives her a soothing stroke. Aziraphale raises his eyebrows.
“What was that?” He asks pleasantly, and chuckles when Crowley scowls. He feels closer to Crowley today. Perhaps it’s because they’re meeting on neutral ground. The bookshop holds so much history, after all.
“You know, several of the ancient Egyptian deities were cats.” Aziraphale says thoughtfully. “Nico certainly has a majestic quality about her.”
“Don’t tell her that.” Crowley grins. “She’ll get a big head.”
“You already spoil her, Crowley.”
“I do not.” Crowley sniffs, though Aziraphale suspects that his apartment is full to the brim of cat treats and toys and scratching posts and all sorts of little tunnels and things for her to play in.
“Mhm.” Aziraphale smiles. In the comfortable silence, he tucks into his strawberry tart.
Oh, it’s delicious, so very rich and fruity. He lets out a little hum and closes his eyes. When he opens them, Crowley is staring at him.
Aziraphale’s face turns pink.
“Are you quite alright?” He asks, dabbing at his mouth. Crowley mutters something under his breath and gestures to Nina for another coffee.
Nina wanders over, smiling at them, and Aziraphale returns her smile. It’s so very lovely to see her again, and this time around, there’s a glow in her cheeks. She’s happy now. Perhaps Crowley and Aziraphale’s meddling wasn’t so ill-fated after all.
“Same again?” She asks Crowley. She sends Aziraphale a wink. “Did you like your tart?”
“It was splendid.” Aziraphale says.
“You say that every time.” Nina laughs.
“And I am always right.” Aziraphale says. Nina was a little cautious around him when he first returned from heaven, but there’s an easy camaraderie between them now.
“Always a charmer.” Nina says. She turns back to Crowley, and then ducks beneath the table. “And how’s Nico?”
Nina, of course, is a cat person, and she doesn’t mind Nico in the shop at all, and so Crowley always made her exempt from his little demonic miracle. Nico meows, and Aziraphale feels a prickle of envy when she pushes her face into Nina’s hand for a stroke.
Aziraphale looks up to find Crowley watching him again. He gives Aziraphale an amused smile.
“Jealous, angel?” He asks.
Aziraphale’s heart jumps. Angel, he thinks. It’s the first time Crowley has called him that since he returned from heaven.
“Of course not.” Aziraphale says, though he casts another glance at Nina and Nico.
“She’ll warm to you, you know.” Crowley says.
His voice is surprisingly gentle, and he gives Aziraphale a meaningful look. “Just give her time.”
Somehow, Aziraphale knows they’re not just talking about Nico. He gives Crowley a shy smile.
I’ll wait as long as it takes, he thinks.
After their little brunch at Give me Coffee or Give me Death, Crowley walks Aziraphale back to the bookshop. Nico walks alongside them, snug to Crowley’s side.
“Are you sure you won’t come inside?” Aziraphale asks, when they approach the bookshop. Crowley is quiet for a moment. In the silence, Nico walks up to the door and begins to claw at it.
“Hey.” Crowley laughs. “What is it?”
Nico meows, looking up at Crowley expectantly.
“I think she wants to come in.” Aziraphale says, very pleased indeed.
“Does she now?” Crowley laughs again. “That’s new. I guess we’ll have to come in, then.”
Aziraphale unlocks the door, and Nico runs inside, heading for her spot by the window. Crowley watches her, amazed, as Aziraphale potters to the kitchen.
“I’ll just put the kettle on.” He says. Crowley throws himself on the sofa and waves a hand at Aziraphale as if to say, go on then.
As the kettle boils, Aziraphale thinks about Nico. It’s the first time she’s ever shown interest in coming inside the bookshop. In fact, one of the first times Crowley brought her, she stood in the doorway and refused to come inside until Crowley coaxed her with a treat.
Aziraphale pours two cups of tea and, after some deliberation, makes up a little snack for Nico. He wouldn’t admit it to Crowley, but he’d been secretly reading up on felines, and he’d looked up all of the foods they can eat to assure she never got into something poisonous. He sets out a little plate of blueberries and bananas - cut beautifully, of course - and carries it on a tray with the tea.
When Aziraphale emerges from the kitchen, he finds Crowley still scrolling on his phone, and Nico still curled up on the window ledge.
“There you are.” Crowley says. He glances up at him, and raises an eyebrow. “Peckish?”
“It’s not for me.” Aziraphale says. He’s a little embarrassed as he sets down the two cups of tea, and then steps closer to Nico with the tray.
She cracks one eye open as he approaches. Immediately, she stiffens, but Aziraphale keeps his distance. He sets the fruit down on the carpet by the window, and then backs up, giving the cat her space.
Nico doesn’t pounce from the window ledge until Aziraphale is back at his desk. She jumps down, and approaches the tray slowly. Crowley and Aziraphale watch as she sniffs the fruit, and Aziraphale feels a wave of joy when she begins to nibble at a blueberry.
Crowley turns to Aziraphale and grins.
“Trying to get in her good books, are you?” He drawls. Aziraphale flushes and opens a book at random.
“Not at all.” He mumbles. “Just, ah, making sure she’s fed.”
“Right.” Crowley says. His grin fades into a little smile, and he puts down his phone and looks at Aziraphale properly. He’s a little hesitant when he speaks again. “Well, she seems happy enough, and I’m not really in the mood for tea, so… Fancy opening one of those bottles of wine?”
Aziraphale almost jumps from his chair with joy. This day is going very well. He composes himself.
“That would be lovely.” He says, which seems like a great understatement. He hurries to the back of the bookshop and grabs the most expensive bottle of the bunch. As Nico nibbles away at the fruit, Aziraphale fills up two glasses of wine and turns his armchair to face Crowley on the sofa.
Crowley raises his glass of wine in a toast as soon as Aziraphale passes it to him.
“To Nico.” He declares, and Aziraphale smiles at him. Such a sentimental demon, he thinks, as he repeats the toast. And then they drink, and Aziraphale lets it soothe his nerves, and he allows himself to relax.
“You know.” Aziraphale says. “I’ve had a really nice day.”
“What did Nina put in your strawberry tart?” Crowley asks, amused. He takes a large swig of wine, and turns to look at Nico, who’s munching happily on the fruit.
“You really love her, don’t you?” Aziraphale asks.
Crowley startles, spilling wine all down his front.
“Oi.” He grumbles, as Aziraphale waves his hand and miracles the stain away. “I’m still a demon, you know, even if I am sort of… retired.”
“What does being a demon have to do with it?” Aziraphale asks.
“Er.” Crowley says. “Well, demons aren’t really very, er, mushy, are we? We aren’t all… soft like you.”
Crowley certainly looks very soft when he gazes at Nico. Aziraphale raises an eyebrow.
“I thought you were all about shades of grey, dear. You may be a demon, but you are also very fond of that cat.”
“Her name is Nico.” Crowley says, and then scowls when Aziraphale’s smile widens. “Oh, shut up.”
“…You know.” Aziraphale says, watching Nico too, “She isn’t all bad.”
“Oh, really?” Crowley asks. “I seem to recall you weren’t quite so keen when I first brought her to the bookshop.”
“She wasn’t so keen, either!”
“But she’s growing on you, isn’t she?” Crowley asks. “Admit it.”
“…Oh, a little.” Aziraphale admits.
“I knew it!”
“I think,” Aziraphale says. He takes a swig of wine for courage before continuing. “It just takes me a little longer to-” Aziraphale stutters, pauses. Crowley’s eyes are fixed on him, wide and bright. “Warm to things. That doesn’t mean I don’t-“
Aziraphale looks away from Crowley’s intent gaze. The silence is meaningful, and heavy, and Aziraphale can hardly stand it.
“I-“ Crowley’s voice cracks. He swallows, but before he can speak again, Nico jumps down from the window ledge.
The two of them turn to look at her, relieved by the interruption. They watch as she saunters over to their chairs, and both of them expect her to jump into Crowley’s lap. Indeed, Crowley sets down his wine glass and opens his arms in preparation for it.
So they both gasp when Nico jumps into Aziraphale’s lap.
They sit for a moment in silence, and Aziraphale goes completely still. He doesn’t dare move in fear he’ll startle her away. She claws at his thighs, getting comfortable, and then curls up in his lap. And, Aziraphale is happy to note, she’s purring.
“Well.” Crowley says, blinking at the two of them. “That’s new.”
“I’ll say.” Aziraphale murmurs. He doesn’t touch her, doesn’t even move, just lets her sleep there.
Crowley stares at them a moment longer. His eyes go soft.
“I told you she’d warm to you.” He says. Aziraphale, embarrassed and pleased and nervous, takes another swig of wine, careful not to spill it on Nico.
“And what about, ah,” Aziraphale’s voice shakes. “What about you?”
Crowley’s eyes widen. He looks afraid, all of a sudden.
“Me?” He asks, delicate and careful. Aziraphale tries to breathe. There’s a silence before Crowley speaks again.
“…Look, I mean, it took time with Nico, didn’t it?” Crowley asks, his eyes flickering to the cat in his lap. “I don’t think she knew where she stood with you.”
“I see.” Aziraphale says. “Well, she’s very much welcome here in the bookshop.”
As are you, Aziraphale thinks.
“She can stay as long as she’d like.” Aziraphale says. He pauses. “I’m not going anywhere, after all.”
“Really?” Crowley asks, and Aziraphale sees in his eyes a glimpse of the sweet, hopeful little angel he used to be, before that hope was taken from him.
“Of course.” Aziraphale says. “Crowley-“
There’s so much he wants to say, but it chokes him. He tries to communicate it to Crowley with his eyes, pleading for him to understand, but Crowley isn’t looking at him anymore. He’s too shy and too vulnerable now to even attempt it.
When Crowley looks up again, he’s grinning as if nothing has happened.
“Enough of this. Shall we get completely, utterly, ridiculously drunk?” He asks.
“Yes, alright.” Aziraphale says, relieved by the change of subject.
But even as they laugh and tell stories of the past and pretend there isn’t anything wrong, the tension lingers, and Aziraphale finds himself wishing he’d pushed further, said more. Still, Nico is curled up in his lap and Crowley is smiling far more than usual, and that has to be enough, at least for now.
When Aziraphale wakes, he expects the hangover to hit him immediately, and he prepares for a wave of pain and nausea. But it never comes. Instead, he feels delightfully rested, despite sleeping in his armchair. Perhaps Crowley has something to do with these pleasant feelings. His chest warms at the thought of Crowley using a miracle to spare him a hangover.
Aziraphale’s eyes flutter open. He is surprised, when he looks down at his lap, to find Nico is still there. He’s even more surprised to find a demon kneeling in front of him. Crowley is murmuring to the cat, his fingers stroking beneath her chin. Aziraphale’s lap vibrates with her purrs.
Softened by the sight of them, Aziraphale smiles wistfully.
“Good morning, Crowley.” He murmurs.
Crowley looks up at him, pretty and sleepy and wide eyed. When he hears Aziraphale’s voice, he startles, and goes to rise to his feet, but Aziraphale is faster than him. He catches Crowley by the shoulder, and pulls him back down. Crowley stumbles, then steadies himself on the armchair, and, with a little grumble, begins to stroke Nico again.
“Better not disturb her.” Aziraphale explains.
“Suppose so.” Crowley mutters, hiding his eyes, and Aziraphale understands why. It’s surprisingly intimate to have Crowley kneeling by the armchair like this, with his face so close. Aziraphale memorises the little details. His amber eyes, his pursed mouth, the sharp lines of his cheeks. He’s beautiful, really. He’s glowing with the morning sun.
Aziraphale can’t help but indulge himself. Perhaps sleeping has made him vulnerable - he doesn’t sleep often. Or perhaps he’s simply unable to hold himself back, now that they’re free. Before he left for heaven, Crowley kissed him. He showed him what they could have. The memory of that kiss still tingles on his lips.
And so Aziraphale reaches out, and cups Crowley’s face in his hand. Crowley grows very still, and his eyes flicker to meet Aziraphale’s. They’re so bright, so wide and terrified and wonderful, and Aziraphale could get lost in them.
His thumb gently brushes the soft skin of Crowley’s face, and Crowley’s face tilts slightly in his hand, seeking the touch. Oh, Aziraphale thinks, his heart racing. Like a cat, Crowley turns himself into the touch, seeking it, and goodness, how long has Crowley waited for this? How long had Aziraphale denied him it?
His hand brushes over Crowley’s cheek, towards his ear. His fingers stroke further, behind his ear, and then tangle in Crowley’s pretty crimson hair. Crowley’s eyes flutter shut, and he lets out a little sound. If he were a cat, Aziraphale thinks fondly, he might purr.
“Oh, Crowley, I-“ Aziraphale stops himself. What could he possibly say? He regrets his words immediately, for they snap Crowley right out of whatever spell he was under. He startles, suddenly, rising to his feet and stepping away from Aziraphale in fear. Don’t go, Aziraphale thinks.
Crowley’s sudden movement startles Nico too. She jumps down from Aziraphale’s lap, and slinks around Crowley’s legs.
“Come on.” He mumbles to Nico, gathering her up in his arms. “Let’s go home.”
It doesn’t feel right. Crowley’s home isn’t his cold, soulless apartment. It’s here, in the bookshop, but Aziraphale can’t say that.
“I’ll see you soon, then?” Aziraphale asks, hopefully.
“Course.” Crowley says hoarsely. He’s already pulling his sunglasses on, hiding whatever is in his eyes from Aziraphale. “Bye, Aziraphale.”
But even after Crowley has rushed out of the bookshop, Aziraphale’s hand tingles with warmth. He stays in his armchair for a long time, remembering.
It isn’t like Crowley to ignore things. It certainly isn’t like Crowley to leave something unspoken. Crowley has always been stubborn and driven and honest and he’s always been the one who drives their relationship forward. Aziraphale never suspected that Crowley would be the one running from him.
But here Crowley is, pretending as if nothing has happened at all, lying on the sofa and rambling about some television drama that’s irritating him. Aziraphale glances at him every now and then as he reorganises the bookshelves. It’s so strange. Crowley has never been shy, or cautious, or afraid of the feelings between them. He’d stood in the bookshop, once, and practically declared he wanted to spend eternity with Aziraphale.
And yet… here he is, running, deflecting, and Aziraphale is fascinated by it.
He turns away from Crowley to shuffle a few books around. When he turns back, Crowley is holding Nico in the air above him and telling her all about the glorious horror of London traffic, a horror he created himself, and Aziraphale’s heart practically bursts. He loves them, damn him, the both of them.
As he steps closer to them, Nico struggles out of Crowley’s arms. She jumps down from the carpet, and runs to Aziraphale. When she’s a few feet away, she stops, and they look at each other.
Aziraphale kneels down. He holds out his hand, and she comes to him. She’s slow, and cautious, but then she reaches his hand. She nudges against it, a shy little touch, and Aziraphale smiles. Then she pushes closer, and he strokes her ears, feeling very pleased with himself.
“Look!” He calls to Crowley, delighted.
Crowley is watching them with an unreadable expression.
“Huh.” He says. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Neither did I!” Aziraphale laughs, giddy. He scratches under her chin, and feels her purr against his hand. “This is marvellous.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Crowley smiles. The warmth in his eyes makes Aziraphale’s chest ache. It’s such a deep warmth. It’s centuries old, and the weight and importance of that strikes Aziraphale then.
“You know.” He says. “I’ve grown rather fond of her.”
“Have you?” Crowley asks, lightly, but there’s still that emotion in his eyes. He looks fit to burst with it, but still, he’s holding back.
“Yes.” Aziraphale says. “Very fond indeed.”
“…Think the feeling’s mutual.” Crowley mutters. Then he turns back to his phone, red to the tips of his ears, and Aziraphale turns back to Nico with a smile on his lips. Oh, he thinks, we’re finally getting somewhere.
Aziraphale is alone in the bookshop, in the middle of putting his new stock on the shelves, when he feels a strange weight against his legs. He looks down, and laughs.
“What are you doing here?” He asks. Nico is curling around his legs, purring. He sets down his books and kneels down to greet her. She’s so affectionate now, so willing to be in his space, and to Aziraphale’s surprise, he delights in it. “Is Crowley with you?”
Aziraphale waits for Crowley to enter the bookshop, but the tinkle of the doors never comes.
“He must be busy.” Aziraphale says. “I suppose it’s just you and I, for now, my dear.”
So, in the absence of Crowley, Aziraphale sits himself at his desk. Nico follows, and curls up beside his cup of cocoa as he reads. Every now and then, he reaches out to give her a stroke, and they sit in companionable silence. Aziraphale wonders why he ever disliked her. She’s a darling.
An hour or so later, the bookshop doors burst open. Crowley stumbles inside, his face aghast and his hands in his hair.
“Have you seen Nico?” He asks, all in a rush, more frantic than Aziraphale has ever seen him.
“Oh.” Aziraphale says. “She’s right here.”
Crowley stops. He looks at Nico lying on the desk, and deflates with relief.
“I couldn’t find her anywhere.” He says. He walks over to the desk and gives her a stroke, and Aziraphale shivers, because like this Crowley is hovering over him, warm and close. “She came here?”
“Indeed.” Aziraphale says, pleased despite himself. Crowley is still trembling slightly, though, his hands gripping tightly to the back of Aziraphale’s armchair. “I think she likes it here.”
“You can’t run away like that.” Crowley tells Nico, firmly.
“No need to worry, Crowley. She’s absolutely fine.” Aziraphale reassures him.
Crowley’s lips twitch when he looks at Nico curled up on the desk, looking very relaxed indeed.
“In fact, we’re having a lovely afternoon.” Aziraphale says. “You should join us.”
Crowley hesitates.
“I’d love to, but-“ Crowley starts to say, but then Aziraphale turns to look at him and dares to set his hands on top of his. Crowley stops speaking, and stares at him, full of adrenaline, bewildered and relieved and beautiful, and Aziraphale feels a wave of love.
Crowley’s eyes flicker their hands, and he swallows.
“Are you sure?” Aziraphale asks, gently, warmly, his hands anchoring Crowley to the chair. He rubs his thumbs along the back of Crowley’s hands, soothing him. Crowley lets out a pleased little sigh.
“Ngk.” He says, embarrassed. “No.”
There’s a miraculous silence, then, in which neither of them dare to speak.
Aziraphale has no idea how to close the distance between them. That’s always been Crowley’s job. Mercifully, Nico comes padding across the desk, and nudges against Aziraphale’s arm, looking up at him with a long slow blink.
“Oh, do stay.” Aziraphale says. It’s strange to be convincing Crowley of something, for once. Crowley has always been the initiator, the brave one. Aziraphale is having to be very brave now. He can feel his hands trembling in Crowley’s.
A pause. Crowley looks down at their hands.
“Go on then.” He says.
Aziraphale smiles, a dazzling, joyful thing.
“Tea, then.” He says, “And cake. Would you like cake? I have a few pastries too…”
He lets go of Crowley’s hands. When he stands, he finds himself very close to Crowley, toe to toe, with Crowley hovering over him, and he loses his breath.
“Or we could have something savoury.” Aziraphale stutters. He’s nervous now, rambling, because the last time Crowley was so close to him was when he kissed him. Aziraphale has the sudden, overwhelming desire to be kissed again. “The afternoon is getting on, isn’t it?”
Nico jumps down from the desk. She slinks between Crowley’s and Aziraphale’s legs. Aziraphale smiles. He lets the moment linger, domestic and sweet. He missed times like this, in heaven. When he speaks again, it’s with all of the softness in the world.
“I really am very fond of her, you know.” Aziraphale says.
“Feeling’s mutual.” Crowley says, smiling too, “I mean, look at her. She adores you, angel.”
Aziraphale pauses. His next words feel important, so important that he trembles with the weight of them. He takes a deep breath, and looks up at Crowley with fear, with longing.
“And you, Crowley.” He says warmly. “I’m so very fond of you.”
Crowley’s eyes widen. There’s a devastating flicker of hope in his eyes. When Aziraphale reaches out a hand, he feels very much like he’s approaching a terrified cat. But when he cups Crowley’s cheek, Crowley does not pull away from him. His head tilts into Aziraphale’s hand, like before, and his eyes flutter shut, and oh, Crowley is wonderful, he’s everything, the sweetest of desserts and the kindest of miracles
“You aren’t a guest here. You don’t have to keep coming and going.” Aziraphale says. “This bookshop - our bookshop - it’s your home. Nico’s, too.”
Crowley’s eyes open.
“Stay.” Aziraphale says. It’s a prayer.
“Is that an option now?” Crowley asks. There’s a hint of bitterness and an ocean of insecurity. “You said it yourself, remember? Nothing lasts forever.”
“Oh, Crowley, I didn’t mean it.” Aziraphale says.
“You sounded like you meant it.”
“Well, at the time, perhaps I did. Things were different then. I was different.” Aziraphale swallows.”But now-“
“Now what?” Crowley asks.
Now, Aziraphale thinks, I want forever.
“I’m here to stay.” Aziraphale says, and his conviction surprises him. “I’ve done as much as I can in heaven. Everything I need is here, on earth.”
Crowley searches his face. It’s the same expression Nico had when she jumped on Aziraphale’s desk for the first time. She’d looked into his eyes, trying to figure him out. Figure me out, Crowley, Aziraphale thinks.
“So what do you think?” Aziraphale asks. “Will you stay?”
Please, Aziraphale thinks.
“Yeah.” Crowley’s voice cracks. “Yeah, why not?”
Oh! Aziraphale smiles, a dazzling, joyful thing. Crowley smiles back at him, bigger and brighter than Aziraphale has ever seen him smile.
“Splendid.” Aziraphale says, giddy. “Marvellous.”
Crowley laughs, and pulls Aziraphale into his arms. This time, when Crowley kisses him, Aziraphale returns his embrace, and melts, and kisses him back. He feels warm and lovely and full of love, overflowing with it, and for the first time, he forgets to feel guilty about his feelings for Crowley.
Aziraphale knows now what Crowley was asking for when he said they could be an us, and he wants it so badly he can’t breathe.
When they pull apart, they’re still grinning, and Nico is clawing at Crowley’s trouser leg for attention. He scoops her up in his arms and gives her forehead a kiss.
“What do you think?” He asks Nico. “Should we stay?”
Nico meows her approval. Aziraphale gives her ears a stroke, and she pushes into his hand, purring.
“Well.” Aziraphale says. “I suppose you have no choice now.”
“Guess not.” Crowley grins.
In a cottage in the South Downs, a black cat sleeps soundly by the window.
Her chest rises and falls slowly, and every now and then, an angel passes the window and gives her a stroke. Upstairs, the curtains are tightly closed, because a demon is having a little nap of his own.
Later, the demon will descend the staircase. He’ll wrap his arm around the angel’s waist, and give him a sweet kiss, then he’ll go to the window and give the cat a kiss too. And they’ll sit together into the evening, the angel reading and the demon telling stories to the cat in his lap, and every day will be this peaceful, for eternity.