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The low, warm glow of the candles had cast a gentle golden haze in the bookshop. There was a faint cloud of dust that had been hanging in the air the past few months.
War raged outside. Even in the daylight the dense cloud of debris hung low on top of London, weighing everyone there down with it.
The bookshop was one of the few places that, almost miraculously, remained soft and luminous inside. Smelling like old books, ink, and wine, the shop offered a respite from the despair outside its walls. Humanity had faced several crises over the years in which Aziraphale had the opportunity to know them. Even he had to admit, though, that this war was an exceptionally low point.
He found himself at a loss for words to describe his distress for the humans. In his time on Earth, Aziraphale had come to care for humanity. Seeing what atrocities the humans were willing to think up next for each other left him feeling disheartened. As much as he tried to inspire goodness in the world, there were some humans that could not be so influenced. The bombings that continued to shake the foundation of the bookshop around them made that quite clear.
After the events in the theater, Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves at the bookshop without either of them having spoken a word of their intended destination. Now, they had settled themselves in the backroom having just opened the third bottle of wine for the night. Aziraphale had kept a stash of Châteauneuf-du-Pape in the back of the bookshop for special occasions, and he figured that both of them having saved the other’s life within the span of one night was plenty of justification to indulge in the fine wine.
It was when the demon moved to refill both of their glasses that the angel snapped out of his reverie and found his voice once more.
“Oh, just a small glass for me this time I think.” They had spent the last several minutes in companionable silence and Aziraphale cleared his throat as he pulled his glass back, attempting to keep it from being overfilled.
Crowley followed his glass, reaching closer to Aziraphale as he wrinkled his eyebrows and asked “You what? ‘S only the… our third bottle?”
“Quite right, but I’d like to keep at least some of my wits about me.” The last words trailed off at the end as Aziraphale looked towards Crowley. He found himself gazing straight into the demon’s eyes, which Aziraphale realized he had not seen uncovered in close to 200 years now. Crowley had discarded his hat and sunglasses some time ago and this is the first Aziraphale had noticed. Torn between averting his gaze and getting lost in it, Aziraphale looked away and kept his eyes trained on the flame of the candlestick in front of him. He noted that the flame had a remarkably close resemblance to the color of the demon’s eyes. He felt his cheeks warm with the desire to look towards Crowley again.
Crowley drawled on, “ohh come on, angel, you’re no fun. We’re celebrating!”
Perhaps it was the effects of the wine, for Aziraphale bravely met the demon’s eyes again and felt like poking at him a bit. “Are you… trying to tempt me? You foul fiend”. His words did not come out with as much of a sarcastic bite as he had wanted. In fact, they sounded rather fond if you listened closely.
With the bottle of wine still hovering in the air between them, Crowley merely looked to the bottle, then to Aziraphale’s glass, and back up to meet Aziraphale’s eyes again, tilting his head.
The angel tried to hide the smirk that tugged at his lips as he felt that fondness bubbling up inside him again and pushed his arm forward to offer his glass for Crowley to fill to the top. “Therrree you go” Crowley mused.
The pair toasted their freshly filled glasses and took their first sips, maintaining eye contact as they drank. Aziraphale felt his heart beating in his ears, marking time as the two continued to look in the other’s eyes, glasses hovering in front of their mouths. Crowley’s lips parted slightly at the same time that the angel was the first to break eye contact and looked down at the table cloth.
The angel set his glass down with a thud, moving quicker than he had intended. Thumbing at the stem of his wine glass, the silence that followed unnerved the angel. Suddenly, the years between their last meeting, and the fight that had caused it, weighed on his mind.
Desperately seeking a way to change the mood and keep things light, Aziraphale found himself moving to stand up. Crowley’s attention snapped to the angel as he pushed his chair back in and moved around the table. His eyes continued to follow Aziraphale across the shop to a gramophone, which had previously escaped the demon’s notice.
Aziraphale had never been discontent with only his books for entertainment, but he will say that the recent innovations with recorded music had greatly amused him. He had been so impressed that just a few decades ago, he let a woman set up a small shop of sorts in the corner of his bookshop. She had come by to show him a popular new invention and eventually wore him down to let her demonstrate, even after several attempts at dismissal from the angel.
As her corner shop became increasingly popular, the angel found himself disgruntled by the amount of people in his shop. He had invested in the gramophone as an attempt to enjoy music from the comfort of his own home, after all. When the opportunity arose, he leased out a small shop next door to the bookshop and felt blissfully at peace with the lack of customers once more.
That said, Aziraphale did love the gramophone and so insisted on keeping one for himself in his shop. He mostly kept classical records. Symphonies, operas, concertos. He found that he was actually a big fan of a symphony by the up and coming composer, Shostakovich. His 1st symphony was a common record played in the bookshop.
Tonight, though, Aziraphale was in the mood for something modern. He had heard the new music that featured swinging melodies and lush orchestration that made for great dancing. He had to admit that he much enjoyed the big band sound that came from Glenn Miller’s orchestra and the crooning of Sinatra.
As angels go, they do not care much for dancing. Really, it’s just simply something they do not do, and Aziraphale wasn’t sure that they would even know that people were dancing if they stood in the middle of the dancefloor. Aziraphale on the other hand, did dance.
He had learned the gavotte some decades ago and had kept the love for dance even after the gavotte went out of style. The new way of dancing was a drastic change, but surprisingly not an unwelcome one to Aziraphale. He did enjoy observing the humans dance in nightclubs on rare occasions. Lately, he had wanted to try it himself, but with his lack of a partner, he enjoyed the music from his bookshop instead.
As he was about to select a record to place on the gramophone, he looked up to Crowley, feeling his gaze on him. When he met the demon’s eyes he felt the wind knocked out of his chest. There was something in his gaze that pulled him in. Crowley looked at him with an amused curiosity that made the angel stumble. He thought his eyes looked beautiful in the warm light.
The thought made his face flush. From across the bookshop he hoped the demon did not notice. While he always did like the color of Crowley’s eyes, he had never so openly acknowledged the beauty of them before. Not even to himself.
With a shy smile forming on his lips, Aziraphale was again the one to break eye contact first and looked back to his collection of records. “Would you like to hear one, my dear? They’re the most clever thing, really. A way to record sound and hear it again.” The angel smiled brightly and shook his head in slight amazement.
“Whatever you want, angel.” Crowley said, fighting the pull at the corner of his mouth. He watched as a broad smile took over Aziraphale’s face while he reviewed his collection of records. Aziraphale pulled a record out of the stack he had built on top of a chair next to the gramophone. The angel handled the record softly as he turned it in his hands, flipping it to the correct side and gently placing it on the turntable.
While Crowley had previously lamented the absence of the angel next to him, he suddenly appreciated the space between them. The distance allowed him some safety to openly study the angel from across the shop. Settling back further into his chair, Crowley followed Aziraphale’s hands as he fussed about the gramophone, ensuring it was free of dust and that the horn was properly angled. Glancing back up to the angel's face, Crowley noticed the smile that was still shining there. The candle light had diffused on its way across the shop to Aziraphale, but there was still a faint warm glow on the angel’s profile. Crowley thought he had never seen the angel look more beautiful.
Not for the first time, Crowley felt the desire to make him smile like that for the rest of their eternity. His mouth fell open slightly with the weight of the desire this time, though, like he’d been hit in the gut with it.
It was a comfort and a relief to see that the Angel stayed safe during their time apart. Even more relief came as he continued to watch Aziraphale get the gramophone set up. The demon marvelled at how, even with a dreadful war going on outside, the angel was still able to find joy in humanity and their innovations. As optimistic as the demon was, war has a way of dragging down even the most devilish spirits. The angel was able to curate a home within the bookshop that felt cozy and warm, like an armchair that had softened from use and molded to the shape of fit whoever sat in it.
Aziraphale cranked the machine and set the needle on the record. Crowley was surprised by the sounds that came out of the horn. Aziraphale had a habit of surprising him. Just when he had thought he had him figured out, Aziraphale would come up with a clever answer or witty comeback and he would marvel at the angel. Even after thousands of years, he still kept Crowley on his toes.
The sound of a lively trumpet section with a lush orchestra roared to life in the bookshop. Aziraphale watched the record pick up speed and find its groove before taking a small step back to take in the whole gramophone and the full sound being produced. The warm, content smile on his face juxtaposed the anxious wringing of his hands. Subconsciously he had begun to move with the music. Another outlet for the sudden rush of anxious energy overtaking Aziraphale’s body. He kept his hands clasped close to his chest as he tapped his foot to the beat of the music. As he began to relax, his body began to sway a bit to the music, nodding along with the entrances of new instruments.
The demon’s voice made him jump. Dropping his hands to his side, he looked back at Crowley. “When’d you get that?” The demon asked with one eyebrow arched with amusement.
“Er, 15 or so years back? They really have taken off, you know. It’s so nice to have a collection of so many options with you at home to enjoy whenever you’d like!” Aziraphale explained, beaming.
Crowley swallowed and said through a smirk, “like your books?”, tossing his hand in vague reference to the shop around them. They both took a sweeping glance of the whole shop and met each other's eyes back in the center. Crowley’s eyebrow rose again as they held each other's gaze for a beat.
“Well yes, if you must know,” Aziraphale said back, playing along with the demon’s taunts. “Just as each of the books here, these records all contain moments of the human experience. What a beautiful thing it is that we can see a creation that took someone, proportionally to us at least, a great deal of time.” Aziraphale continued, his tone suddenly growing more sincere and passionate. “Just because we’ve been around to see so much of creation, doesn’t mean these aren’t just as impressive and wonderful. I mean just listen to all the ways they’ve come up with to entertain themselves and have fun! I don’t think either of our sides would even know how to do that.” Aziraphale’s face scrunched up as he considered it.
“Well, maybe your lot does… Or not! Obviously I’ve never seen how a group of you are. But surely my lot wouldn’t see a need for fun.” Aziraphale chuckled awkwardly as he continued, “well, unless it was in an effort to have fun at someone else's expense I suppose, but–”
Aziraphale cut himself off there, suddenly feeling slightly embarrassed at how worked up he’d gotten. He felt a warmth spread across his face as he deflated a bit. Looking down to his feet, he realized he had taken a few steps towards Crowley while he went on, and he was now just a step away from the other side of the table. He lifted his eyes to meet Crowley’s once more and was left breathless as he took in the demon’s face.
Crowley was frozen in place under the angel’s gaze. He suddenly felt too exposed. The distance between them was closing and he felt a need to cover his eyes. His sunglasses were a useful tool to keep from scaring the humans, but they also at times provided a layer of protection when he didn’t want people to read him. The lack of glasses now left him feeling as raw as a live wire. His glass of wine hung in front of him, having paused on the way to his lips as the angel approached the table during his speech. His speech which was so impassioned and zealous that the demon felt an ache at the loss of it.
The demon blinked and set his glass back down on the table. The words tumbled out of his mouth at a rate so fast he could not bite his tongue in time. As he said them, he felt his stomach bottom out and a flush creep up his neck.
“Dance with me.” the demon said on a breath that only barely shook. As he heard himself say the words, he realized there was nothing in the world he would rather do more.
Aziraphale could have sworn he misheard him. The swell of the music playing behind him was timed perfectly with the demon’s request. Aziraphale inhaled sharply before taking the smallest step back. He turned his head to the side, putting his good ear first, and asked in a small voice, “Pardon?”
The air flew out of Crowley’s lungs on a breathy chuckle. The adrenaline coursing through him needed a release and, as it seemed, it took the form of a poorly timed laugh. As he saw the angel’s face twist slightly into hurt confusion, he stood up quickly. Perhaps too quickly, as the legs of the chair scraped across the wood floor with a loud screech. Crowley’s attention darted behind him to glare at the disruptive chair in question before he bent down to pull it out.
He spun back around to face Aziraphale, mouth falling open to respond but his voice did not come. He cleared his throat a bit too loudly as he took a step forward, coming to the side of the small table. Now with just a few feet of distance between himself and the angel, his mouth closed on a small smile. With his heart in his throat, he extended his right hand in the space between them, and offered it to Aziraphale.
“Dance with me.” Crowley’s face felt warm and he felt as if the weight of his entire world weighed on the words that would spill from Aziraphale’s lips next. He knew every fleck of color in the angel’s eyes as well as he knew the back of his hand, but there was a sheen over them now that the demon couldn’t place.
Aziraphale felt time stand still after he heard the demon’s request. For a flash of a second he wondered if the demon had in fact frozen time. The angel felt his whole body light up with a flutter and his mouth parted open on a shaky breath. Looking down at Crowley’s outstretched hand, he had never wanted to say yes to something more, and yet he had never been more scared to indulge himself.
Just this very night the two of them had barely scraped by after Hell caught them together. Aziraphale could admit to himself that their successful escape was most likely largely due to a stroke of luck. He had a fraction of a second to decide if his desire to be close to the demon was worth putting their safety at risk.
“Angels don’t dance.” Aziraphale heard himself say. Perhaps he could stall and earn himself more time to control his urge to reach for the demon’s hand. His left hand twitched and tingled with the desire to feel the warmth of the demon’s palm against his. Aziraphale’s heart lurched against his ribs as the demon took another step forward. Crowley’s hand now was the only thing between them, making Aziraphale tip his chin up slightly to look the demon eye to eye. He fought to keep his breathing even as he schooled his face into neutrality.
“Not even just once? Not even to celebrate their miraculous escape from certain, permanent destruction? –” Crowley’s head tilted to the side as he glanced away, “well. I guess technically not miraculous miraculous given the miracle blocker in the room and all but really it just –”
Crowley was cut off by the soft grip of the angel’s hand in his. A warmth spread from where their hands were joined, down his arm, and over the whole of his body. He fought the urge to shiver. His jaw hung open, as he stared at their joined hands. This was not the first time he had felt the weight of his hand in his; not even the first time that night, amazingly. This was the first time, however, that he fought the urge to pull the angel closer and wrap him in his arms. This feeling hit him hard enough to knock him back onto his heels as he looked back into the angel’s eyes. Aziraphale was now beaming at him, eyes crinkled in the glow of the firelight on his face. Crowley couldn’t fight the grin that took over his face as the angel pulled him gently by the hand to the center of the bookshop.
The two swung around, facing each other. Not moving but simply looking the other in the eye, hands still clasped together, while the song on the gramophone came to a close. Aziraphale’s face screwed into a disapproving glare as he miracled the gramophone to continue playing music on its own, with no need to manually crank the machine or change out records. Crowley chuckled softly when the angel turned back to face him.
As the sound of lively drums introduced the next song, the demon felt a blush spread across his cheeks as he held the angel’s gaze. With their hands still clasped and hanging between them, the angel’s eyes darted Crowley’s across from him. The song continued to build, adding more instruments and virtuosic melodies. Aziraphale moved to drop Crowley’s hand, feeling a bit sheepish now that they had been staring at each other for what felt like a moment too long, unmoving.
Just as their hands were about to separate, Crowley clung to the angel, eyes wide. Aziraphale’s eyes locked onto their joined hands and back up to the demon’s face. “You have… danced before, haven’t you?” The angel asked gently, reminded of the realization earlier that night that the demon had never actually fired a gun before.
“Ngk,” Crowley mumbled some unintelligible sounds before he ground out with a grimace, “not as such…”
Aziraphale’s face broke out into a bright grin, suppressing a small laugh at the demon’s antics. “Then allow me, my dear.” He said with a smile still staining his lips.
Taking both of the demon’s hands in his now, the angel moved them until there was an arms length between the two of them. Looking down at their feet, Aziraphale explained softly, “it’s simple really, just follow my steps first.”
The angel guided them through a basic two step before introducing a bit of a hop in their step, energizing their dance. Crowley followed along quite well for a while, before stepping on the angel’s toes as they began to move faster.
“Argh, ‘m sorry, angel. Got tied up there I think.” Crowley was quick to apologize, feeling a furious flush creep up his neck and to the tips of his ears.
The angel laughed, unbidden, as he looked into Crowley’s eyes. “Not at all, ‘s only natural as you learn. I stepped on quite a few toes in my time.”
“But angels don’t dance.” Crowley said this with an accusatory tone and a smirk on his lips.
The angel gripped Crowley’s hands tighter in his as he hissed, “oh hush, you serpent.” This brought a smile to the demon’s lips and the angel felt the need to avoid his gaze again. Staring back at their feet, Aziraphale instructed, “alright, now we have the basics so let’s add some swing. In time with the music.”
Aziraphale kept his eyes on their feet as he demonstrated how to add a bit of swing to the same steps they had already learned. The demon kept practicing as he had been taught while he watched the angel’s demonstration. Aziraphale kept going, even adding a few flashy tricks, having fun and letting himself get slightly carried away.
Crowley kept moving his feet in time with the music, continuing the basic step he had learned. He couldn’t help himself as his gaze moved up to the angel’s face. His feet stumbled, only slightly, as he took in the angel. Another smile was spread across his cheeks, lighting up his face as he continued to look down at their feet. Crowley felt the breath knocked out of his chest as he again felt the sudden, strong desire to pull the angel closer.
Aziraphale always dove head first into anything he did, and his enthusiasm was electric and contagious. The unbridled joy he had while teaching the demon and demonstrating new, fancy steps caused a feeling not unlike the pop of a champagne cork deep in the demon’s chest.
Crowley’s face warmed furiously as the angel looked up to him. He had been caught. His lips parted as he inhaled sharply, trying to quickly come up with an excuse. After some eloquent grunts and grumbles, the angel simply smiled softly and the demon’s nerves settled slightly. His hackles were still raised, but he was able to hold the angel’s gaze as he saw Aziraphale’s smile melt with sudden concern.
With his brows knitting together, the angel asked “would you prefer to sit back down?”
“Wot? I, well, you… whyd’you ask?” Now the demon’s brows came together as he felt his cheeks warm. Feeling suddenly quite self conscious.
“You stopped dancing, my dear.” Aziraphale observed softly, looking back down to their feet again. As he looked back up to the demon, he saw that his eyes were now on their feet as well.
In an effort to maintain his suave and debonair facade, the demon said coolly, “ngk, erhmm… well.” The demon was well and truly rattled by having been caught staring at the angel, not even noticing his feet had come to a stop. He took a beat to collect himself and spoke again, if not with a slight wobble, “show me again, angel?”
As the demon looked back to meet the angel’s eyes, Aziraphale felt the air knocked out of him. There was a tenderness in the demon’s eyes that he had not previously seen. Aziraphale felt drawn in and he got lost in the golden eyes staring into his. The glow of the demon’s eyes set a flutter in his chest, swarming through his ribcage and into his stomach. With a blush spreading across his cheeks and a tingle in the tips of his fingers, Aziraphale gripped Crowley’s hands tighter and smiled. Beaming up at the demon, he breathed “Of course.”
The gramophone put another record on at the perfect time, providing them a fresh sound and a swift mood change. Aziraphale said a silent prayer for miraculous intervention as he reset their hands and feet. They started up their basic 2 step again and after building their confidence, Aziraphale introduced a bit of swing to their step once more. This time, Crowley’s hands clung to his with less desperation and the angel mourned the loss of the demon’s grip.
As it turned out Crowley was a quick study, and took to swing quite well. As they continued to dance in the middle of the bookshop, Crowley couldn’t help himself and pulled the angel closer. Holding only one of his hands now, he guided Aziraphale through a twirl. Grabbing the angel’s other hand again on the other side of the twirl, he saw the angel’s parted lips and his eyebrows rose in question. “Is that not how it goes?” Crowley asked, second guessing his boldness now.
“No!” The angel’s voice burst out of his mouth louder than he would have liked. Clearing his throat he continued, “I mean, not at all. It only surprised me that you knew the next steps. I was about to show you that next, actually.”
The two continued to swing around the shop as they spoke. Crowley mumbled in response, “er, well. Seemed like the natural next step I ‘spose.” He averted the angel’s eyes now, feeling like they shone too bright for him to look into without his glasses.
“Quite right, my dear.” Aziraphale felt a warmth spread through his chest as he watched the demon look away sheepishly. He couldn’t help the tug at the corner of his lips that followed.
The pair continued to dance in the center of the shop. As they spun around the floor, they chatted occasionally and laughed often. They settled into a comfortable back and forth, volleying the opportunity to lead between them. The gramophone continued to play records and after the third one, Crowley felt a rush of boldness and decided to take a chance on the angel.
As the music swelled with a rich saxophone section feature, the demon locked eyes with the angel and asked, voice low, “d’you trust me?”
The angel’s eyes widened slightly before he felt a fire light in his gut. Without hesitation, the angel breathed, “yes”. As he said the words, Aziraphale realized he had never felt so sure about anything.
Taking his hands firmly in his own, Crowley continued to spin them around the floor until he heard the next swell of the music approaching. Pulling the angel close, they stood almost chest to chest. Warmth radiated off the angel’s body. Not giving himself a chance to linger there, the demon pushed Aziraphale back to arm's length. Crowley swapped their hands so they laid right over left as he twirled Aziraphale in front of him, guiding the angel’s right arm over his head. Coming out of the spin, Crowley guided the angel’s left arm to come up around the demon’s shoulders. Aziraphale now stood pressed into the demon’s right side, his arm around the angel’s waist. In this one fluid motion, the demon told the angel, “hold on”, hoping that he would register his instruction in time.
Aziraphale had just enough of his wits about him to heed the demon’s warning and hold tight to his shoulders. A small sound escaped his throat as the demon held him firmly to his waist and spun them around. The angel’s feet were lifted off the ground as the demon spun them several times. Just as quickly as the demon had literally swept him off his feet, he was set gently back down to Earth.
The two chuckled softly as they came to a stop. Aziraphale’s arm was still wrapped around Crowley’s shoulders as they stood there, sides pressed together, looking the other in the eye. The blood rushed through his ears as everything around them fell away.
The demon’s hand was still pressed firmly against his waist and Aziraphale could have sworn a fire had started in that very spot. He never wanted him to let go.
But perhaps there really was a fire in that spot on his side, because Crowley flinched and pulled his hand away as if burnt. The angel reacted quickly, pulling his own arm from around Crowley's shoulders and dropping it to his side. He couldn’t help himself from tracing a fleeting touch across the skin of Crowley’s neck as he pulled his arm down. The angel blushed as he saw that the demon couldn’t fully hide the shiver that slithered over his spine at the touch.
Aziraphale mourned the loss of the warmth from the demon’s hand on his waist. As he dropped his hand to his side he felt a tingle spread from where his skin touched the demon’s collar. Remembering himself, he blinked to clear the misty look from his eyes. The angel inhaled deeply and slowly as he took a step back to readjust his waistcoat and bowtie. With a breath of space between them, the angel fought the desire to fidget.
Again, with almost miraculous timing, the song on the gramophone ended. The angel felt his chest give in slightly at the sudden silence, the blood rushing even louder in his ears now.
The gramophone whirred back to life with a fresh record on the turntable and Aziraphale felt like his knees could have given out.
He knew this intro.
The flutes slowly start the song, then they move into a fluttering cadenza that finishes with the addition of the rest of the orchestra. He blinked and loosed a shaky breath. Turning to glare at the gramophone again, he sent up a silent curse to whatever miracle chose this song next.
Movement caught his attention out of the corner of his eye and he looked back to Crowley. He was met with the offer of the demon’s outstretched hand. It may have been a trick of his ears, but he could have sworn his voice shook slightly as he asked in a low voice, “shall we, angel?”
Looking into the demon’s eyes, Aziraphale fought the shudder that threatened to rattle him. Teaching Crowley to swing was one thing. But a slow dance… to this song…
Crowley’s eyes were blown wide open and the angel saw something in those golden eyes he wasn’t sure he had ever seen before.
Fear.
Not the kind of fear one feels towards monsters, war, or other things that go bump in the night. This was the kind of fear that comes from taking a leap in the dark, knowing the ground will disappear beneath your feet. When all you can do is hope that someone will be there at the end of the fall to catch you.
Aziraphale could see the storm raging behind the golden honey glow of the demon’s eyes. He could get lost in those eyes and spend his eternity reading every emotion that crossed them.
Aziraphale was sure that as hard as he tried to keep his own emotions under control, his eyes too gave away the fear of taking this next step. Crossing this line.
It would be so easy to reach out and take the demon’s hand. His fingers ached to feel the demon’s warm palm against his again. Instead, his body and mouth betrayed him when he rocked back slightly to rest firmly on his heels and croaked, “Crowley,”
The demon did his best to sound unaffected as he responded. As if this was something they did everyday. He blinked to clear his eyes and made his best attempt at a casual shrug. “Aw c’mooonnn, just once. We’re celebrating.” Crowley’s attempt to lighten the mood fell flat as his effort at a playful offer sounded more like a plea. He closed his mouth in a tight lipped smile as he searched the angel’s eyes for a clue to his answer.
Aziraphale’s heart was pounding in his ears. This silly demon. This wonderful, thoughtful, romantic demon. He let out a small gasp as that last one went through his head. Giving himself a small shake of the head to clear his thoughts, he locked eyes with Crowley once more and did one of the bravest things he thought he had ever done.
He softly took his hand.
Suddenly feeling very sheepish and unsure of himself, he stammered while his eyes darted around the two of them. “Er, mmm… How shall we… ?”
Without saying a word, Crowley stepped forward. Holding the angel’s right hand, he wrapped his right arm around Azirapahle’s waist. Not fully chest to chest, but just a breath of space between them. With a breath stuck in his throat, Aziraphale let his free arm rest on the demon’s shoulder. With Crowley’s suit jacket having been discarded what feels like ages ago, he felt the firm warmth of his shoulders beneath his palm and fought the urge to squeeze. He knew that he was stiff as a board, but his nerves were flayed open and he couldn’t bear to ruin this moment.
“I won’t bite, angel.” Crowley purred.
The angel rolled his eyes and gave the demon a playful glare. In truth, his stomach flipped at Crowley’s comment. But he could hardly let the demon know that he was that easy to rile. Still, the angel’s shoulders relaxed and he felt more at ease in the demon’s arms.
The gramophone, miraculously, continued to play the instrumental introduction to the song far longer than Aziraphale knew it to last. He glanced curiously at the gramophone as Crowley began to move his feet in time with the music. On cue, a soft, crooning voice began to sing. Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered closed, preparing himself for the song that was about to play. It was released a short time ago and he had heard a few renditions of it by now. His favorite version was on the gramophone and he knew the whole song by heart.
That certain night, the night we met
Feet still swaying to the music, Crowley tried to meet the angel’s eyes. The almost pained expression on the angel’s face threatened to send his mind in a tailspin. When the angel finally turned his face to him, he did not make eye contact. Rather, he seemed to be suddenly very interested in his tie. He searched his face for something, anything, that could clue him in to the angel’s thoughts, but he came up empty handed. After thousands of years, he thought himself close to an expert at reading the angel.
There was magic abroad in the air
Fortune favors the bold, and with that in mind, Crowley spoke up.
“Penny for your thoughts, angel?” Efforting to keep his tone as light and neutral as possible, he imagined this was another one of the countless conversations they had had over the millenia. The angel’s eyes snapped up and Crowley’s breath caught in his chest as they held each other's gaze. The candlelit bookshop set the angel’s eyes glowing, turning their usual blue almost to a dark green. The demon could melt into them if he was given the chance.
The question shocked the angel. When had they grown so bold with each other? They always left so much unsaid during their meetings. Something had changed tonight, though. It buzzed in the air between them. His eyes raked over the demon’s whole face before settling back on his golden eyes, darting frantically between them. Something, he needed to come up with something. Surely his attempt at a poker face hadn’t truly fooled the demon. Aziraphale always wore his heart on his sleeve and the demon knew him too well by now anyway.
Instead, all that filled his mind was the realization of how close their faces were to each other. Mere inches separated their noses. Instinctively, he jerked his head back slightly in an attempt to give himself some more space. The room suddenly felt too warm and he knew that his cheeks were tinged with pink.
He needed to say something.
The silence had stretched on too long and it had become palpable between them. He blurted out the first thing he could think of, “Have you heard any of the new symphonies lately? I’ve actually so enjoyed the new style, and I wondered if you had managed to hear any of them yet the last time I was at–” his question died in his throat as he felt the demon’s hand tighten its grip on his waist, pulling him closer. Aziraphale looked down at the space between them as it closed. Now standing chest to chest, the angel felt Crowley’s hand move from his waist to his lower back. The flat of his palm against him sent warmth radiating from the point of contact.
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square
The pair continued their dance in the middle of the bookshop. Swaying from one foot to the other, the two made slow circles about the space. The angel looked back up to Crowley and found him already looking for his eyes.
The look he was met with made him dizzy. They were so close now. Freckles dotted across the demon’s nose and cheeks, and he wondered how he had never noticed them before. Feeling a furious blush creep up his neck he averted his gaze again, settling on the hand that rested on the demon’s shoulder.
But I’m perfectly willing to swear
That when you turned and smiled at me
Unable to help himself, the angel watched as he moved his hand across the demon’s shoulders and rested it just below the nape of his neck. His thumb graced the skin just above the top of the demon’s collar and he felt the tiniest shiver from the demon in his arms. Allowing himself a small, satisfied smile, he held firmly to Crowley. Warmth bled through the demon’s shirt and it sent fire lancing down his arm.
Aziraphale had been surprised by his friend many times. One such time came earlier this very night. But nothing could have prepared him for the gut punch that was hearing Crowley hum along to the song that played around them.
The moon that lingered over London town
Poor puzzled moon, he wore a frown
Crowley hummed along softly, just loud enough for Aziraphale to hear. The angel in front of him tipped his head back to look at him in awe. His jaw hung slack, and his blue eyes were blown wide open. Aziraphale inhaled, words forming on his lips, but the demon beat him to it.
“To answer your question, yes. I have heard some of the recent music. Orchestral and big band. I ‘spose it’s kinda nice. Entertaining… at least.”
The demon’s voice puttered out at the end of his statement as he saw a bright smile take over Aziraphale’s face. Their joined hands were warm and soft as they held onto each other. Crowley felt a few short squeezes against his hand and he returned each one.
Taking his hand off of Aziraphale’s back, he stepped away, giving them some space. Cold air smashed into the front of his body at the loss, hollowing him out. In a flash of a second, he could have sworn he saw a pained expression dart across the angel’s face as the space between them widened. With their hands still joined, Crowley spun the angel around a few times, savoring the glimpses of his beautiful smile as he turned.
Feeling dizzy not only from the turns, Aziraphale practically fell back into the demon’s arms. All he could do was breathe out a short, throaty chuckle at the contact. His hand found the back of Crowley’s neck again, this time boldly resting his fingers against the soft skin at his collar.
It was such a romantic affair
His face dropped, suddenly serious, at the lyric. They had been in a haze. In the demon’s company the world had a habit of falling away. It was in this haze that Aziraphale had let himself lose track of the song that played. Their faces were closer than they had been all night. The air was thick and Aziraphale thanked someone that his corporation didn’t need to breathe. Even just the thought of the next line set his body glowing. The angel buzzed with anticipation.
His eyes bore into the golden depths of the demon’s, almost pleadingly. Through the stone cold fear in his gut, he felt a flutter of warmth begin as he realized the demon was not looking away. The warmth spread as he mustered up enough courage to not let himself be the one to break this seismic moment.
And as we kissed, and said goodnight
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square
Crowley was the first to break eye contact. His gaze flicked down to the angel’s lips and he could not have stopped himself if he tried. This whole night, he had fought a losing battle with himself to not do exactly this.
Earlier, the distance between them as Aziraphale fussed with his records across the bookshop gave him an opportunity, but he was too entranced by his smile to indulge himself. Now, he took what he thought might be his only opportunity and revelled in it. The angel’s lips parted slightly on a gasp. He had heard the sound and logged it in his memory as a keepsake. Face heating, he continued to look openly at the angel in front of him. The music swelled around them and he felt like they were the only two beings in the world. In the universe. A rosy pink flush colored the angel’s lips in the candle light and he realized then that it would only take a small movement to lean forward and –
Frantically, his gaze snapped back to Aziraphale’s eyes and he caught the last of their movement down to Crowley’s mouth. The breath whooshed out of him and left his chest empty. His thundering heartbeat echoed off his ribs and he grimaced as he realized the angel had to be able to hear it.
Only now did his feet come to a stop.
Holding the angel in his arms, they stood still. Time itself could have frozen around them and neither would have been any the wiser. Crowley’s eyes raked over the angel’s face as he breathed him in. Aziraphale smelled of old books, surely. More prominently, though, he smelled of citrus and vetiver. A perfect balance of brightness and depth. His scent grounded the demon more than anything else. No matter how long they had spent apart between meetings, his scent remained the same and lingered on him after they parted again. It was almost overwhelming now, shrouded by the sharp citrus and earthy vetiver as he was. His eyes winked closed as he let it take him over. He had never been so close that he could feel the warmth in the scent. Now that he’d had it, he never wanted to take it in any other way.
Aziraphale was lightheaded as the demon’s gaze dropped to his lips. Panic filled his thoughts as a gasp escaped his lips. Mouth hanging open, he hoped the music was loud enough to cover the noise.
The angel studied the softness that had taken over Crowley’s face. So rarely did he get to see him so unfiltered. Every moment he was lucky enough to see the demon’s beautiful eyes was a gift. This moment in particular felt like lightning in a bottle. They were so close now. It would be so easy for him to simply lean forward, let his eyes flutter closed, and let –
He couldn’t help himself. Looking to the demon’s lips, he saw they too were parted. The demon was breathing heavily and he could feel the warmth of his breath on his face.
They were so close.
The peppery scent of the demon’s cologne filled his nose, taking over his senses. He could almost taste it on his tongue. This close, the angel could feel the demon’s heart beating through his chest. This was a small comfort, as he was sure that his was doing the same.
With a start, he noticed they had stopped moving. The music swirled around them as they held onto each other. The angel looked back up to meet the demon’s eyes only to find that they were closed. Provided the opportunity, Aziraphale drank Crowley in. The set of his brow, the curve of his nose, the snake tattooed just in front of his ear. Fondness overtook him as a smile bloomed on his face. He allowed his thumb to brush idly against the skin of the demon’s neck. His fingers tingled at the touch. So intimate and familiar.
The demon’s eyes fluttered open at this and he gazed down at the angel. When their eyes met it was as if something pulsed between them. A palpable force pulled them closer until they could feel the warmth of the other’s breath on their face, see every speck of color that danced in their eyes, and their chests brushed closer with every heartbeat.
When there was just a breath of space between them, Aziraphale saw Crowley’s eyes dip to his mouth again. Butterflies swarmed and created a lump in his throat as he imperceptively leaned back and breathed “Crowley–”
The ache in the demon’s chest tightened to the point of almost breaking him. Not looking away from the angel’s lips he whispered back, achingly tender, “angel–”
For thousands of years now, the demon called him that. What he was sure started as a mere observation, a stating of fact, had developed into a nickname of sorts. Crowley used it casually and often, leading Aziraphale to think of it as nothing more than a casual name. As neutral as his own given name.
This time, it sounded like a prayer. A plea. It hung heavy between them, dripping with honey, and Aziraphale wanted to swallow it so that he could absorb the magic that lay within it.
“Crowley,” he said again, almost on a sob, “please. Just once.”
The demon felt his stomach bottom out. Lightning danced through every place the two were pressed together. Under the clamour of his heart pounding in his ears, he vaguely registered that the music continued on.
Dizzily, he anchored himself by pressing his hand firmly to the angel’s lower back, pulling him as close as he could. This elicited a soft sigh from the angel’s lips. Hands still joined, their faces were so close now that Crowley’s lips hovered just above the angel’s. His eyes still fixed on the Aziraphale’s mouth, he drawled through a smirk, “trying to tempt me, angel?”
A low sound escaped the back of the angel’s throat as his eyes slipped closed. Tilting his face up, he closed the distance between them.
Crowley felt the warm press of the angel’s lips against his and had to control the wobble in his knees.
He had hung the stars. He had built nebulae and witnessed the birth of galaxies of infinite colors. And yet, nothing compared to this.
The feel of the angel’s lips against his was a supernova. A desperate admission of everything they hadn’t said.
The angel’s arm wrapped tighter around his neck, pulling a small sound out of Crowley’s throat. An ache swelled in the demon’s chest as he tried to pour every ounce of feeling into Aziraphale. Gripping him firmly around the waist, he dropped his hand and brought it to cup the angel’s face. His thumb rested on his jaw as he angled his head to deepen the kiss. This drew out a breathy moan from the angel that set Crowley aflame.
Aziraphale couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t do anything besides surrender himself fully at Crowley’s feet. The sound he drew out of the demon was one he didn’t know he needed. Now he was insatiable. He wound his arm even tighter around the demon’s neck, hand bracing himself on the opposite shoulder. Every inch of their bodies now pressed together and Aziraphale felt as though neither of them had a beginning nor an end. Aziraphale was a live wire, every piece of him that held Crowley abuzz.
His hand hung in the air where the demon dropped it while warmth spread across his cheek. His brows knit together at the tenderness in the demon’s touch. He felt his knees quiver as a moan escaped him. Unable to bring himself to feel embarrassed, he let Crowley deepen the kiss.
With a shiver racing down his spine, Aziraphale thought that, in this moment, there was nothing that could have kept them from this. Gravity pulled them together. They were inevitable. Fated in the stars that Crowley hung himself. He felt their hearts racing in tandem and wrapped his free arm around the demon’s waist.
Crowley couldn’t help the sound that bubbled up his throat at feeling the angel’s arms around him. The angel’s lips parted, granting him access.
At this moment, the dam inside of Crowley burst.. Holding nothing back, the demon tasted him. He was divine. Not even that damned apple would have tasted this sweet, Crowley was certain.
To his delight, the angel met his tongue stroke for stroke, devouring him. Fingers laced through golden curls and Crowley swallowed the soft moan that escaped the angel. Crowley realized with a start that he could come undone like this. The angel could ruin him, body and soul, and he would not say a word against it.
Returning his hand to cup the nape of Crowley’s neck, Aziraphale could taste the wine that lingered on the demon’s tongue. Never had something tasted so perfect. So right. He knew now that he would chase the high of this for the rest of eternity.
The tips of his fingers wove through the red hair that he loved so dearly.
loved…
His stomach dropped at the thought and a sigh spilled into the demon’s mouth. Another wobble in his knees sent his other hand up to cup the side of Crowley’s face. Planting his feet squarely beneath him, he reluctantly pulled away from the demon on a loud gasp. Sheepishly, he kept his head down, pressing their foreheads together.
The pair stood there clinging to each other, breathing heavily. Lips swollen and cheeks flushed, fire coursed through their veins. Aziraphale kept his eyes closed, letting his head float back down from the clouds.
As the blood rushing in his ears subsided, Aziraphale heard that the instrumental interlude was, miraculously, still a tapestry around them. The velvet of the saxophones finally blended into the trombone section as the final lines were repeated.
I know cause I was there
That night in Berkeley Square
Seamlessly and without any pause, the gramophone slid into the next song. Still slow, but a waltz this time. This was another favorite in Aziraphale’s collection. If he was honest, he had danced this on his own around the shop more than once.
Crowley’s hands had come to rest on Aziraphale’s shoulders, holding him close. His mind was racing and he was having trouble focusing on one long enough to string words together. Thank someone that the angel spoke up first.
Aziraphale’s voice was shaky and tinged with sadness as he breathed, “Oh Crowley,”
The demon’s only response was a throaty, “mmm.”
The angel lifted his head and dropped his hands from Crowley's face to rest on his chest. With a smile that bordered on watery Aziraphale said softly, “Thank you,”
Crowley’s eyes slipped close on a wince as he shook his head, “Angel,” he started.
“For the books.” Aziraphale finished. Unsure if this was all he truly wished to thank the demon for, he knew it was all he could say out loud.
“Shut up. I told you to forget it already…” Crowley couldn’t muster up much of a grumble as he wanted, but he had to at least attempt to deny any kindness that was thrown at him. Especially now.
Aziraphale gave Crowley another smile that didn’t fully reach his eyes before taking a step back, just outside of the demon’s reach.
The two stared at each other, neither knowing what they should do with themselves. The tension hung thickly in the air between them and they both began to choke on it.
“I should probably–”
“Would you like to–”
Their words came out as a jumbled heap of sound, overlapping each other. Each of them took a second to process the other’s words before they were quick to start again.
“Or would you rather I–”
“Oh well if you feel you–”
All they could do now was chuckle softly at themselves. They stood a step out of reach of each other, still reeling, as they felt the imprint of the other on their skin like a brand. Aziraphale began to wring his hands together, desperate to feel something other than the loss of Crowley in his arms.
Seeing the angel’s fidgeting, Crowley's hands itched.
He couldn’t do this.
The demon took a step forward and Aziraphale almost gasped, his stomach dropping. Sorrow rang loud between his ears as the demon breezed past him; not quite rushed but still moving with a purpose. He allowed himself one moment to himself before turning around to Crowley.
Aziraphale’s hand shook as it rose to his lips. As he pressed his fingers to his mouth his eyes fluttered closed and his eyes burned behind his eyelids as he sighed deeply behind his hand.
Taking a slow breath in, Aziraphale spun around on his heel to see Crowley had put his suit jacket back on and was slipping the first arm back into his overcoat. In just a few steps Aziraphale stood opposite Crowley, only the small table between them. The demon kept moving, miracling away the empty wine bottles and resetting the table neatly for Aziraphale.
Fondly, the angel watched Crowley fuss around the table. Needing something to do with his hands, Aziraphale picked up Crowley’s fedora and held the brim between his fingers. The wool was soft and he could smell the fire and ash that lingered on it from the church. Looking down at the hat Aziraphale allowed himself a sad, fond, smile.
His books.
His books.
Crowley truly could be so kind. Thoughtful, kind demon. Shades of grey indeed.
Looking back to Crowley, the angel saw that he lightly held his sunglasses in his fingers. Aziraphale’s heart warmed at the sight of Crowley’s eyes. The candlelight set them glowing and he never wanted Crowley to cover them again.
Beautiful.
Crowley could still taste the angel on his lips. He ached to put everything back down and take Aziraphale back to their dancefloor. The music was still playing. It didn’t have to be over yet.
But they had already come so close tonight. He couldn’t risk the angel’s safety. Not even for this.
So he put his coat on, and held his God-foresaken glasses in his hand. It would be so easy to drop them and close the distance between him and the angel. He was just a step away.
Looking into the angel’s eyes he could’ve sworn he’d seen stars there. He indulged himself with a quick glance over Aziraphale’s face, lingering the smallest fraction of a second on his kiss-swollen lips.
Beautiful.
Taking a deep breath, Crowley broke their silence, “well…’spose I should get goin’ … it’s pretty late by now–”
“Yes, ‘f course. And with the blitz–”
“Right,” Crowley said, a bit unsteadily. He tipped his head towards Aziraphale as he made his way around him towards the front doors.
Aziraphale turned, watching him over his shoulder. He couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He couldn’t let him go. He drew in a breath, the cold air slicing through his stomach. Crowley was only a few steps from the door now. The angel jumped to catch up with him as he panicked and blurted, “Crowley!”
It came out louder than he had intended. More desperate. The demon stopped at the door, hand on the knob. Aziraphale met him on the top step of the landing, just a step between them. Crowley turned around with a pained expression on his face.
They looked at each other for a beat, neither speaking. The only sounds being the music that still played between them and the grandfather clock ticking behind them.
Any grand, poetic words Aziraphale had wanted to say to the demon died on his tongue. All that came out instead was a sincere, “Mind how you go.”
Aziraphale’s voice was smooth and sweet as honey and Crowley wanted to sink into it.
His cheeks flushed as a thought crossed his mind. He hoped the angel hadn’t noticed, but they were so close again. Against his better judgement, Crowley leaned down just slightly to place the lightest kiss against Aziraphale’s cheek.
Hovering just between his ear and his eyes, the demon said lowly, “Thank you, ”
Crowley again could not resist and looked the angel in the eyes as he pulled back slightly. Their faces just a breath away, Crowley finished shakily, “For the magic.”
Aziraphale’s heart sank into his stomach. He couldn’t stop his flustered look away only to instantly come back, eyes bouncing between both of Crowley’s gorgeous golden ones. A flush blooming across his cheeks and up to his ears in a flash.
Suddenly unable to bear a reply from the angel, Crowley said earnestly, “Mind how you go, angel.” In one smooth motion, Crowley turned back to the door and pulled it open. He puts his glasses back on and then his hat, which Aziraphale hadn’t even realized Crowley had taken back.
The demon straightened himself up, and stepped off of the stoop of the bookshop.
Aziraphale lingered in the doorway. He watched Crowley slink over to his car and open the door quickly. Meeting the angel’s eye over the roof of the car, Crowley sank into the driver’s set and shut his door. The car roared to life and took off down the road; slower than the demon had driven earlier that night, Aziraphale noted.
After watching the Bentley disappear around the other side of his block, Aziraphale turned back inside his bookshop. Pushing the door closed, the angel turned around and leaned his back against it. The doorknob jabbed him in the back but he didn’t notice.
Aziaphale’s hand went to his cheek, still feeling the ghost of a kiss the demon left there. His eyes closed and his heart pounded as the weight of the night's events hit him. He couldn’t help the beaming smile that burst from his lips at first.
As he worked things over in his mind his mouth dropped open on a sigh as he thought to himself, just once.
How could he have suggested such a thing?
More pressingly, how could he have assumed that once would be enough? That it wouldn’t awaken a need so great it now consumed his every thought. The ache deep in his bones at watching the demon walk away would linger, he knew.
Opening his eyes, he walked back down into the bookshop. He scoffed as he realized the gramophone was still playing and removed the needle. How odd it was that the music could in one moment be all he heard, and yet so easily ignored and forgotten in the next.
He stood in front of the gramophone, one hand resting on the machine. The angel fussed with the horn, adjusting the angle only to put it back to where it was before. Aziraphale fought the lump rising in his throat.
With a shake of his head, he cleared his throat and turned towards his desk. Grabbing his most recent read from the aged wooden desktop, he miracled all of the candles out as he made for the stairs.
The angel retired to his bed that night. Not to sleep, but to desperately search the pages of his books for something else to occupy his mind other than the feel of Crowley’s mouth on his and the softness of that red hair between his fingers.
~~~~~
Crowley drove in silence. The dark, dirty, devastating state of the world around him made another century long sleep sound quite appealing. He had popped the safe, warm bubble of the bookshop and now he would go back to all of his shades of grey.
Aziraphale was the source of the color in his life. All of the life, really.
The realization hollowed him out and yet also warmed him. The angel was a light, a warm spot, in this cold, dark world.
Crowley had been driving for far too long before he realized that he had no idea where he was going. He couldn’t bring himself to go back to his lifeless, lonely flat. Not yet. So he kept driving. He kept driving until the dust had cleared in front of him and he found himself staring at a pile of rubble.
The ruins of the church still burned. Crowley opened the door of the car and stumbled out. He wasn’t sure what he was doing coming back here. Bombs and air raid sirens still sounded all around him and the area was crumbling beneath his feet.
And yet, he couldn’t help but walk back into the wreckage. With the destruction of the church, the ground had lost most of its bite and no longer burned his feet as he crossed it.
Returning to the spot he had stood with the angel just hours prior, he saw that almost nothing was left standing. Taking the same spot he occupied earlier, he looked towards the space that once held the angel.
In that space, he noticed one thing that still stood amongst the wreckage, almost completely unharmed.
He stepped closer to the lectern and took in the delicate carvings of the feathers on the eagle’s wings. Earlier that night these wings had framed Aziraphale perfectly. The beautiful angel.
Crowley’s eyes slipped closed. His fingers found their way to his lips, feeling the angel’s kiss again.
Just once.
A fool. Only a fool would have agreed to that. But he could never deny the angel anything. Least of all when it was what he had ached for for so long.
Opening his eyes again, Crowley set his face. The picture of neutrality. With a single nod and a snap of his fingers, he spun on his heels and sauntered back down to his car.
Not allowing himself to think back to the last time he made this walk, he made it to his car and settled into the driver’s seat again. Big band music poured from the radio as he drove off in the direction of his flat this time. He sped through the streets as they continued to burn around him.
Waiting for him at his flat, miraculously, sat a lectern. A souvenir of a night that he knew would only come once in a lifetime.