Chapter Text
The ghost of Crowley’s lips gently pressing against the pads of his fingers was sending fire up Aziraphale’s arm. Even with God and Satan Themselves sitting just a few feet in front of them, all the angel and demon could see were each other. One last smile, one last time seeing himself reflected in those beautiful honey gold eyes and then
Nothing.
A whole lot of nothing.
And then in a blink he was standing at the counter of his bookshop. But not HIS bookshop, not the one he’d been standing in what seemed like just minutes before. Yet it had really been 13 billion years, not that Aziraphale was aware of this. Or should he say Aza Fell? Because that was his name now, wasn’t it? And this bookshop, one he managed with his fellow associate Derek, a nice old man with a comforting smile that enticed customers into the building, was his too. He’d owned the establishment for a few years now, having bought it in a sudden burst of impulsiveness after seeing the building for sale while on a walk through the busy streets of London.
Aza waved goodbye to the young lady who’d just finished her purchase, filing the money neatly into the register under the counter. Derek was reading a novel on the stool behind him, humming softly. The soft buzz of the heater warmed the shop quite nicely, contrasting the chilly breeze of autumn outside. A jingle sounded from the door, notifying him that a new customer had arrived, and Aza lifted his head for his usual greeting.
“Welcome in, feel free to take a look around and-“ Aza stopped dead in his tracks, words caught painfully in his throat. A handsome, middle aged man with fiery red hair was standing near the door, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jacket, looking around the shop in wonder.
“Lovely place you got here,” he said absentmindedly, turning to look at Aza with a smile. “Think you could lead me to the Astrophysics section?”
Aza blinked, slightly stunned before clasping his hands together. “Right, of course, follow me.”
He walked away from the counter, nearly tripping over himself as he led the man around the corner. He recognized that face. He just didn’t know from where.
Aza stopped in front of a small shelf, grabbing a decently sized book and presenting it to the man. “I’ve had this one in the shop for a while now. It’s a good read and I could probably give it to you on discount.”
“Well that’s rather embarrassing,” the man chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.
“How so?” Aza frowned, looking at the book in hands.
“Well, I wrote it.”
Aza’s eyes shot up in surprise, a sheepish smile spreading on the man’s face. “Oh dear. I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you-“
“Don’t worry about it,” he laughed softly, waving his hand to brush away the mere possibility that Aza could be offensive. “I wrote it years ago, not my most popular book by any means.”
“Well, I suppose you have plenty of copies then,” Aza said, returning the smile.
“Two whole boxes lost in my garage,” the man grinned. They chuckled together, strangely comfortable in each other's presence, despite only meeting a few minutes before.
“Here, maybe this one will be more suitable. Unless you wrote it as well?” Aza asked, showing him a different, thinner book he’d taken from the shelf.
“Oh is that- it is! I’ve been looking for one of these for years,” the man exclaimed, taking the book excitedly.
“It’s only second edition, I’m afraid,” Aza mumbled, a bit mystified how an adult man could become such a giddy eyed child right in front of him so quickly.
“Oh, it’s perfect. You’ve just made my day,” he grinned.
“And you’ve just made mine.”
“How so?”
“Well, I have a book you want,” Aza explained, pointing to the novel now grasped tightly in the man’s hand. “You know what, you can have it for free. No charge.”
“Oh, you’re an angel. Thank you,” he responded, placing his other hand on Aza’s shoulder in thanks. The compliment buzzed in Aza’s ears, making his cheeks redden slightly, hoping he could blame it on the heat coming from the vent a few feet above them.
“I’ll see you out, then?”
“Course.”
They walked to the front of the shop, Aza stopping at the checkout counter and waving as the man strode out into the busy streets of London, smiling softly.
“Was that Anthony J. Crowley?”
Aza turned his head to face Derek, who had abandoned his book and was now sipping something hot from a mug with a quizzical expression on his face.
“Was that- who? How do you know?” Aza fussed, frantically looking back to the door the man had just walked out from.
“Well, he’s right there on the back of that book you’re holding,” he told him, pointing to the novel Aza had forgotten was still clutched firmly in the crook of his arm. He flipped it over, catching sight of the author profile and quickly skimming over the text. He looked a lot younger in the photo, but it was definitely the man who’d graced his shop just a moment before, the name Anthony J. Crowley clearly printed just beneath it.
That’s how Aza had recognized him, he’d collected several of Anthony’s books over the years, a very well known author in this part of London. And he’d just been in HIS bookshop.
“Oh-! Darn! I should’ve asked for his signature!” He stressed, clenching his jaw in disappointment.
“Or his number,” Derek muttered from the corner.
“Sorry?” Aza stuttered, unsure if he’d heard him correctly.
“Well it seemed to me he quite liked you, and you quite liked him. He’s probably still out there, you know. Couldn’t have gotten far. Go on, see what happens,” he suggested, waving towards the door.
Aza’s breath quickened, hesitating just a moment before steeling himself and bolting out the door, running as fast as his non-athletic body would allow. Just as Derek had said, Anthony hadn’t gone too far, his lanky silhouette just a few blocks down from the shop. Aza managed to catch up to him, breathing heavily with rosy, wind stained cheeks and ruffled hair.
“Excuse me-! Mr. Crowley! Sir!” Aza exclaimed when he was a few yards away. Anthony turned around, searching for the voice yelling his name. He spotted Aza coming towards him and his eyebrows went up in surprise.
“Woah there, what’s wrong? Did I leave something behind?” He asked with concern, reaching out to steady a heavily winded Aza gasping for breath.
“No, no, I- sorry, I’m a bit puffed,” he apologized, putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “I would- would you mind um, signing this for me?”
He held out the novel shakily, fearing rejection. Anthony blinked in surprise before a bright smile lit up his face. “Oh sure, of course. Do you have a pen?”
Aza nodded, pulling a pen out from his pocket and handing it to him. Anthony began to scribble his signature on the inside of the book, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration.
“And, um, perhaps your number as well?”
Anthony glanced up, the pen pausing on the page.
“To take you to dinner, later. Which of course you’ll say no to, but at least I’ll have had asked,” Aza chuckled nervously, unable to look him in the eye.
“I’m not giving you my number,” Anthony said firmly, cocking an eyebrow.
“Right, no, of course. Just the signature then,” he laughed awkwardly, cursing himself for his stupidity.
“I’ll wait for you. Where’s dinner?”
Aza’s bewildered gaze was met with a crooked grin. But the eyes looking back at him were no longer the soft brown he’d seen a moment before, but instead flickered a stunning yellow, pupils looking almost snakelike in the gray light of overcast London. Aza took a sharp breath, feeling as though he recognized the color despite their unusual appearance, grabbing his fingers as they buzzed unexpectedly.
“Something wrong?” Anthony frowned, and the strange color disappeared.
“No, not at all, just a bit shocked,” Aza laughed nervously, unsure of what he’d just witnessed and why on Earth it felt so familiar. “I get off at 7. Are you sure you’ll be okay waiting?”
“Yeah, no problem at all. Plenty of shops to explore ‘round here to keep me entertained,” Anthony said, gesturing to the row of buildings with his hand. “Here, your book.”
Aza thanked him softly, and they parted to go about the rest of their days, Aza back to his shop and Anthony to a nearby boutique. At 7, Aza was hurriedly closing the store, nervous anxiety buzzing through his system. Derek had already left for the day, congratulating him for his accomplishment at ‘snagging a date with the attractive space professor’ and leaving him mostly in peaceful silence as the streets of London welcomed the evening hours.
It was quite dark now, the streetlamps doing their best to brighten up the sidewalks and keep passersby on the right track. The only lights illuminating the shop were a small lamp on the checkout counter casting a warm glow across the nearby stacks of books and the overhead light still on in the back. Aza heard a bell ring while tidying up and he panicked, unsure what to do with himself.
“Be there in a jiffy!” He called out, rushing to a mirror hung from a nearby wall and smoothing out his hair. Once he felt presentable, Aza walked out to the front of the shop, making sure to flick off the light illuminating the back half of the building, and stopping as he was met with the lanky figure of Anthony staring up at a bookshelf. He was wearing a black waistcoat and tight fit dress shirt that complimented his bony structure, long legs adorned with meticulously ironed slacks and pointed, well shined dress shoes reflecting the light from outside. His eyes were covered by dark glasses, a strange choice for being out and about at night, and a black fedora rested upon his head.
“Oh, I seem to be a bit underdressed don’t I?” Aza chuckled nervously.
“No, not at all,” Crowley turned to him, shaking his head. “Here, I got you something.”
Aza stepped forward, curious as to what it could be. Anthony whipped his hand out from underneath the coat draped over his arm, presenting Aza with a blood red rose.
“Oh my,” Aza gasped, placing a hand on his chest as he gingerly took the flower from Anthony’s fingers and brought it to his nose. “It’s gorgeous, Anthony, I’m flattered. Thank you.”
“Course. Here, let me clip it on,” he offered, holding out his hands to take the rose back. Aza gave it to him, holding his hands together in front of him as Anthony pulled out a small, metal pin and stabbed it through the stem of the rose. He then reached forward and slid his hand underneath the flap of Aza’s cashmere knit sweater, pressing the pin into the textile and pushing it back out the other side, clipping it together gently. Aza had stopped breathing throughout all of this, painfully aware of the back of Anthony’s hand pressing against his chest.
He slid his hand back out and patted Aza’s chest with a smile. “There you are.”
“Perfect,” Aza murmured, looking down at the rose now attached snugly to the fabric of his sweater. Anthony suddenly reached down and took hold of Aza’s hand, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. Aza took a sharp breath, the sudden sensation of warm lips on his skin sending chills up every inch of his body. He could see Anthony’s eyes peeking out from the top of his glasses, looking at him with yearning. A car passed by, brightening the shop for a moment, and Aza swore he glimpsed that honeyed color flash just behind those dark lenses before they were plunged in soft darkness again.
“Oh, goodness me, Anthony,” Aza whispered.
“All the best for an angel like you,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk. “Now, are you ready to go or do you still need a few minutes to finish tidying up?”
“I have a couple things that’ll only take a minute,” Aza told him, looking around the shop.
“No rush. I’ll be right here if you need me.”
“Thank you, dear boy,” Aza smiled, spinning on his heel to rush about the shop and finish his tasks. As promised, the two left the shop a few minutes later, Aza double checking that the door was locked before joining Anthony on the sidewalk. He had put his coat over his shoulders like a cape, hands tucked into the front pockets of his pants. He looked quite dashing underneath the bright streetlights.
“Ready to go?”
Aza nodded, and they both began to make their way down the street. The restaurant was just a few blocks away and they arrived with no problems, acquiring a table for two near the back. They quickly got to talking, learning about each other for the first time but speaking as if they’d been friends for years. Anthony had a bit of a green thumb, his apartment covered with plants of all types, and Aza had quite the affinity for food, enjoying all sorts of delicacies as often as he could. Even though neither of them had ever heard of these quirks and hobbies until now, it almost seemed as though they could’ve guessed each one without a problem.
Hours went by and it was quite late by the time they’d finished their meals, taking small sips of wine between words exchanged in the thinning occupancy of the building.
“I realize I never managed to catch the name of this restaurant. Food’s wonderful, by the way, absolutely marvelous choice for a first date,” Crowley mentioned, swirling ruby liquid in his glass absentmindedly.
“Oh yes, it’s one of my favorites. It’s called the Ritz. Their wine collection is magnificent,” Aza beamed, soaking up the praise.
“Damn right,” he responded, taking a long drink from his glass and smacking his lips appreciatively. “Love a good Pinot at the end of a meal.”
Aza chuckled, gesturing for a waiter to bring them a check. “Thank you for indulging in my request, Anthony. It was lovely to get to know you.”
“I couldn’t have thought of a better way to end the night. Good food, wine, and the most gorgeous person I’ve ever had the pleasure of talking to sitting across from me,” Anthony smiled, watching as Aza’s cheeks burned bright red.
“Oh, you flatter me too much, dear boy. I’m nothing special,” he laughed softly, waving his hand. The waiter came up and handed them a check, which Anthony quickly snatched before Aza had the chance to.
“I’m paying. Least I can do for the free book,” he told him, flicking a credit card out with two fingers.
“Anthony, you couldn’t possibly! That book held a value of 20 pounds, this is much more expensive! At least allow me to split the bill,” Aza complained, reaching out for the receipt.
Crowley held it away from him, shaking his head. “Nope, this is my treat. You picked the date, I get to pay for it.”
“That’s not how that works, you fiend,” Aza grumbled, crossing his arms scornfully.
“Ahhhhh, and it’s too late anyway! I’ve signed it and oh! There it goes, bye bye!” Anthony said dramatically, shoving the check into a passing waiter’s hand and shooing him away as he started to protest. The waiter hesitantly complied, looking rightfully confused by the interaction as Anthony leaned back in his chair with a proud smile plastered to his face. Aza huffed out a breath of scorn, glaring at the man sitting across from him, causing him to tilt his head back in laughter.
And it really felt like he knew him then, like he’d known him for years, flashes of old memories that weren’t his tapping at the back of his mind restlessly, begging to be let out. Snakeskin boots clacking against a wooden floor, glasses clinking in celebration, the squawk of ducks scrambling for morsels thrown by divine hands. And this overwhelming feeling of love and comfort making a quiet home in his heart. Aza didn’t realize he could miss something so completely without ever having experienced it before, and yet it felt so real.
They stood up from the table, having finished their wine and cleaning themselves of any stray crumbs clinging to their clothes. Thanking the staff they passed on their way out, the two stepped into the chilled air of the quiet streets of London, a shiver crawling up Aza’s back.
“Need a ride?” Anthony asked, looking down at him through dark lenses and offering his arm.
“That would be lovely,” Aza replied with a smile, taking it lightly and squeezing his partner's lean bicep with his fingers. They walked for a while, listening to the soft sound of their shoes on the sidewalk and the distant rumble of cars speeding though the busiest parts of the city. They eventually stopped in front of a Bentley parked on the side of the road, a beautiful car that was clearly well cared for, the outside practically spotless aside from what looked like 3 bullet holes that had punched through the driver's side window.
“Oh gosh, she’s gorgeous,” Aza breathed, taken aback by the quality of the old car, going around to the passenger side in awe.
“She’s my pride and joy, been with me for years,” Anthony said proudly, patting her roof as he walked to the other side.
They got into the car together, Aza quietly admiring the interior as Anthony started her up, the engine rumbling to life with a flick of his wrist.
“Good girl,” he mumbled, patting the steering wheel lovingly. “Let’s take our guest home now, shall we?”
And home they went, with Aza giving directions every so often as they sped through the nearly empty streets that the absence of sun brought to London every night. Soft music played on the radio, a calming tune that Anthony tapped his finger to rhythmically, making Aza feel rather relaxed in a car he’d never been in with a man he’d only met a few hours before.
But it really didn’t feel that way at all. Everything about Anthony felt familiar, comforting, and safe. The seat he was sitting in now was shaped perfectly to his body as though he’d sat there several times in the past, despite never having set foot inside a car for over 10 years. Aza preferred public transport, even though he had his license and renewed it whenever the time arose. This feeling was so strange, like the worst case of Deja Vu he’d ever experienced.
When they arrived at Aza’s apartment building close to 11 at night, he really didn’t want to leave. He felt so happy sitting here with Anthony beside him, so at peace. But he stepped out of the car anyway, gently closing the door as Anthony, who’d gotten out just a tick before he had, walked around to where he was standing.
“Thank you for the ride,” Aza said softly, wringing his hands together in worry. “Tonight was just lovely. I had a lot of fun. With you. I’m a bit sad it has to end.”
Anthony glanced around almost like he was nervous, quickly checking the time on his watch. “Well, tomorrow’s the weekend. I have nothing planned if you’re interested in going out together. Perhaps a film? I know a wonderful restaurant by the theater that sells the most fantastic crepes. We could get lunch.”
“Oh that sounds lovely,” Aza sighed in excitement. “Could I perhaps have that number now? I don’t want you disappearing on me.”
“Course. Here,” Anthony gestured for Aza to take out his phone, pulling his own out of his back pocket. They quickly traded numbers and promptly tucked their phones away, both realizing now would be the time to say goodbye.
“Again, thank you,” Aza murmured, looking down at his shoes.
“It was my pleasure. I had a great time,” Anthony replied, a crooked smile playing on his lips.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Right.”
Aza looked up, immediately noticing Anthony had removed his glasses, clearly able to see his eyes. For a third time since they met, Aza watched as Anthony’s irises flickered yellow, eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiled. He stepped forward, merely an inch or two away from Aza, lifting his hand to hesitantly cup his face, the cold tips of his slender fingers burning Aza’s skin.
“I know we haven’t known each other long, and we’ve only been on one date, but I would very much like to give you a proper goodbye,” Anthony murmured, gazing at him longingly. “If that’s alright with you, of course. I don’t want to rush it if you aren’t comfortable.”
“Oh gosh, I- well, yes, I think I am rather comfortable with it,” Aza whispered, every muscle in his body tense with anticipation.
Anthony smiled and put his other hand on the small of Aza’s back, pushing him into his slender body like they were magnets. Every cell in his body exploded when Anthony leaned forward, slotting their mouths together like puzzle pieces, inhaling sharply at the feel of warm lips pressed against his own.
And it was like everything clicked into place, like dots connecting and stars aligning and everything was just perfect.
Because he remembered.
Aziraphale remembered everything.
And Crowley did too.