Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

***

Crowley was sprawled out on his sofa in his Mayfair flat, bored and in desperate need of company.

He grabbed his smartphone from where it had slipped down the side of the sofa, put his feet up on the coffee table, and then called Aziraphale’s number.

Aziraphale answered after only a few rings. “Hallo?”

“Hi. It’s me. D’ya fancy going out for dinner tonight?”

Aziraphale made a delighted sound. “Oh, yes! That sounds lovely! How about the Ritz?”

“Sure.”

It had been a year since the failed apocalypse, and they were closer than ever before. They saw each other all the time – in fact, Crowley had seen Aziraphale three times this week already and it was only Thursday.

“I’ll pick you up from the bookshop, yeah? About six?”

There came a brief pause. “Oh, actually, I’m at dance class this evening. Could you pick me up from there? About seven?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “You’ve taken up dancing again? What are you learning this time - something more modern that the gavotte, I hope?”

“The waltz!” Aziraphale said excitedly.

Crowley smiled to himself. “Of course you are.”

“It’s great fun! I think you’d really enjoy it.”

“I don’t dance, angel.”

As much as Crowley would love an excuse to hold Aziraphale close and sway around a room with him, he couldn’t think of anything more humiliating than showing Aziraphale just how bad he was at dancing. He’d probably knock them both over.

“But you do dance!” Aziraphale argued, frustration in his voice. “I saw you disco dancing a few years ago.”

Crowley’s face prickled with heat. “That was decades ago. And I was drunk. Besides, it’s hardly the same thing as ballroom dancing.”

Aziraphale huffed. “Well, alright, but I really think you’re missing out.”

Aziraphale gave him the address of the dance studio and assured him that he could park anywhere he wished in the car park out front - Aziraphale would okay it with his dancing instructor.

After the phone call Crowley played a match-3 game on his phone, but his mind kept drifting to thoughts of himself and Aziraphale slow dancing around a ballroom, holding each other close, so close they could kiss if they wanted to. Which Crowley definitely did, but he wasn’t so sure about Aziraphale’s feelings.

After the failed apocalypse, now that they were on their own side, Crowley had hoped that Aziraphale would confess to having feelings for him, but it had been over a year and Aziraphale had said nothing. Crowley had resisted the urge to be the one to make the first move, scared of going too fast like he always did and ruining everything. But even if their relationship couldn’t be romantic, Crowley was still perfectly content with how things were now. They were free and safe, and that was more important than anything else. He had more than he’d ever dared to hope for.

***

Crowley was sat in the parked Bentley, listening to Queen and browsing Twitter on his phone while he waited for Aziraphale to finish his dance class.

People started filing out of the building and Crowley scanned the crowd, looking for Aziraphale. Most of the humans were in couples, some even wearing suits and ball gowns, but Aziraphale, when he appeared, was dressed in his usual attire complete with bowtie. He was walking alongside a young man who looked roughly the same age as Crowley – or at least, the same age that Crowley appeared to be – early twenties.

The man was tall, slender, and well-toned. He wore a white T-shirt, tight jeans, and a winning smile. His chestnut brown hair was carefully slicked back.

They stopped on the pavement just to the side of the studio door to continue their conversation, talking animatedly. Aziraphale said something, a happy smile on his face, and then the young man burst into laughter, slapping Aziraphale playfully on the arm.

Crowley narrowed his eyes.

The man stopped laughing and said something while pointing at Aziraphale’s throat, and then proceeded to ‘correct’ his bowtie for him. Aziraphale looked a bit taken aback, but not at all upset by this gross manhandling.

For a fraction of a second, Crowley’s lip twisted into a snarl, but then he quickly forced his face back into something nonchalant, just in case they looked in his direction. He tried to ignore the stab of jealously deep in his chest. He reminded himself that he and Aziraphale were not together, Aziraphale’s love life was none of his business, and Aziraphale was free to flirt - and be flirted with - if that was what he wanted.

Aziraphale turned his head, saw Crowley, and his face lit up. He gave him a cheerful wave, and Crowley waved back.

The young man followed Aziraphale’s line-of-sight and when he saw Crowley his eyes hardened. There was something in his eyes which immediately set off alarm bells in Crowley’s mind - the demonic part of him insisting that something was off - but it was entirely possible that he was only feeling this way because he was jealous.

The man turned his attention back to Aziraphale, his smile gone and his lips moving quickly, but Crowley couldn’t tell what he was saying. Aziraphale glanced back at Crowley before responding and looking embarrassed. The two of them seemed to settle back into some sort of a conversation and then after a minute or two they said their goodbyes. The man pulled Aziraphale into a hug, making eye contact with Crowley the entire time that he squeezed him. Crowley smiled like a shark but the man seemed unfazed.

Once the man released Aziraphale from his grasp they parted ways – without a goodbye kiss, thank someone, which was a small mercy at least.

Aziraphale headed over to the Bentley with a bounce in his step. The man stood still on the pavement, watching Aziraphale go, and it was only when Aziraphale had settled into the passenger seat that the man marched away to his own car.

“Hello, my dear! Thank you so much for picking me up,” Aziraphale said cheerfully, as if he hadn’t just been molested right there on the street in front of everyone.

“No problem,” said Crowley. “Who was the hugger back there?”

“Oh!” Aziraphale glanced back at the man climbing into his car. “He’s my dance partner. Jamie. Lovely fellow.”

Ah. Of course they were dancing together. How bloody romantic.

Crowley couldn’t resist his next question. “Are you and him… you know. Together?”

Aziraphale let out a shocked bark of laughter. “Good gracious, no! The instructor paired us up. Most people come to classes as a pair, but singles like me get matched up with someone. For my first few lessons I was matched with this lovely old girl - Mavis. We had quite a lark, but for the last couple of weeks I’ve been with Jamie.”

Crowley nodded, relieved beyond measure. He wanted Aziraphale to be happy of course, but he’d much rather it wasn’t with Jamie.

“Ah. You both just looked kinda close, that’s all.” Crowley said, trying to sound casual.

“I’m old enough to be his father. As far as he’s concerned anyway. And besides, I’m not interested in him like that.”

“Just let him down gently, yeah?” Crowley said as the Bentley pulled out into the street.

“I hardly think I need to worry about that sort of thing,” Aziraphale scoffed. “I’m sure I’m not his type.”

“I think you are.”

Aziraphale gave him a strange look. “Why? Because he hugged me?”

“And he fixed your bowtie. And he kept glaring at me.”

Aziraphale frowned, looking confused. “He glared at you? That doesn’t sound like him at all.” There was a brief pause, in which Aziraphale’s cheeks coloured. “He asked if we were an item.”

“You see?” Crowley said. “He wants to know if he has competition. He fancies you.”

“No, he doesn’t. He was probably just worried about me,” Aziraphale insisted. “You do have a ‘bad boy’ vibe.”

Crowley smiled proudly.

“He definitely doesn’t have a thing for me Crowley,” Aziraphale said, sounding irritated. “I mean, I’m old and… you know.”

“What?”

“Well, I’m not exactly oozing sex appeal, am I?”

“What are you talking about? You’ve got plenty of sex appeal,” Crowley said, staring straight ahead at the road and hoping that his sunglasses were enough to hide the blush coming to his cheeks. “You’re all dignified and elegant and stuff.”

“Well… Er. Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”

“I mean it, and I really think he fancies you so just let him down gently, okay? Maybe you shouldn’t dance with him anymore.”

Aziraphale looked taken aback. “Well, who else am I supposed to dance with? Everyone else has paired up already. Unless… Would you-?”

“Dancing isn’t my thing.”

Aziraphale let out a sigh.

As they headed to the restaurant, Crowley’s heart fluttered. Perhaps the real reason Aziraphale hadn’t made a move on him wasn’t because he didn’t fancy him, but because he didn’t think Crowley reciprocated his feelings. For some insane reason, Aziraphale wasn’t aware that he was as sexy as sin.

***

~Next Thursday~

Aziraphale dashed through the front door of the building, into the cloakroom, and then into the dance studio. He was almost five minutes late and felt rather flustered about it.

Everyone was already here - fourteen people, including himself, and the instructor on top of that – but everyone was just milling around. The class hadn’t started yet, thank goodness.

Jamie was talking to a young couple in the corner, and Aziraphale quickly made his way over to them.

The moment Jamie saw Aziraphale his face lit up. “Azi! Great to see you! I was worried you weren’t coming!”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but startle at the new nickname he’d just been given. He much preferred his God-given name but it wasn’t the first time a human had shortened his name and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. He decided to ignore it. His favourite nickname would always be the pet-name Crowley had for him.

Aziraphale exchanged greetings with Jamie and the young couple, Teresa and Thomas. He’d spoken to the couple a few times before. They were here to learn how to dance for their upcoming wedding.

“Terribly sorry for my delay,” Aziraphale said with an apologetic smile. “The taxi was late.”

Jamie tilted his head. “Your mate in the weird car didn’t drop you off then?”

“No, Crowley is picking me up,” said Aziraphale.

Teresa looked intrigued. “Do you mean that vintage Bentley that was parked outside last week? Is that your friend’s car?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Oh, yes. The Bentley is his pride and joy.”

“It’s beautiful,” Teresa said, before turning towards Thomas. “It’s similar to the car we’ve hired for our wedding, isn’t it, honey?”

“Yeah,” said Thomas. “Ours is a vintage Rolls Royce - a Phantom. Does your friend hire the Bentley out for weddings?”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Goodness, no. I don’t think he’d allow anyone to drink champagne in his Bentley. I tried to eat shortbread in there once and he got all panicky about crumbs.”

Jamie snorted.

Aziraphale glanced around the room. “I’m lucky the lesson didn’t start without me!”

“I’m lucky too!” Jamie said. “There was an odd number of people so I’d have been stuck dancing with the instructor. Or taking it in turns with Mavis.” Jamie pulled a face but then he smiled at Aziraphale. “I much prefer dancing with you, Azi.”

Aziraphale smiled, glad that Jamie hadn’t been put off by his rusty dancing skills.

“If we ever get to the dancing part,” Jamie added, rolling his eyes.

“The CD player isn’t working,” Thomas explained, noticing Aziraphale’s confusion. “They’ve been plugging it into different outlets but it hasn’t helped by the looks of it.”

Aziraphale spotted the instructor. She was stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at the CD player. A crowd of dancers had gathered around her, scratching their heads and trying to help.

“I’m sorry about this everyone,” she said with a sigh, looking deeply embarrassed. “I’ll call my husband and get him to bring in our CD player from home. In the meantime, I’ve got some music on my phone. If I put it on full volume- Oh!”

The music player had just burst into life, belting out one of Aziraphale’s favourites by Tchaikovsky. A cheer went up around the room and Aziraphale smiled to himself.

Jamie held out his hand towards Aziraphale. “Care to dance?”

“Oh, goodness, yes,” said Aziraphale, taking his hand. They started to practice the basic steps of the waltz, Jamie leading.

As they danced Aziraphale found himself thinking about Crowley’s insistence that Jamie fancied him. An absurd idea. Jamie would certainly not be interested in someone like him. Jamie was young and charming, and would have no trouble finding a partner his own age. Besides, Aziraphale wasn’t interested in bedding him. They had little in common - save for their fondness of the Waltz - and Jamie deserved to be with someone he could grow old with.

Aziraphale had experimented with humans in the past, but never anything serious or long term. He tried his best not to get too tangled up in the lives of humans. He had too much to hide, like the fact that he didn’t age and was immortal.

Aziraphale loved Crowley and had hoped that they could have a romantic relationship now that they were free from their respective sides. There were times when he thought Crowley’s feelings for him did run in that direction but it had been over a year and Crowley hadn’t made any advances. Perhaps Crowley wasn’t attracted to him after all. Aziraphale couldn’t blame him for that. Crowley was shockingly beautiful, and Aziraphale was well aware of his own physical shortcomings. Aziraphale had spent millennia hearing comments about his body, mostly from Gabriel who had told him numerous times to lose weight.

But then he remembered Crowley’s words in the car after picking him up last week. Dignified and elegant, he’d called him. Crowley had probably only said it to try to make him feel better, but the memory of it made Aziraphale feel giddy all the same. Crowley must love him in his own way, and this year had been the best of Aziraphale’s life. He treasured every moment he’d spent with his dear friend.

He forced his mind back to the here and now, focussing on getting the dance moves right.

“I was in Soho on Sunday,” Jamie said once they’d gotten a good rhythm going. “I think I saw your shop - A Z Fell, right? But it was closed.”

“Oh, yes! I was working on some book restorations over the weekend so I had to close up.”

“Your shop is gorgeous, by the way. Very fancy. From what I could see through the windows anyway.”

“Thank you!”

“Do you really own it?”

“Oh, yes. It’s been in the family since the 1800s,” Aziraphale said, easily slipping into his human persona.

The dancing instructor was making her way around the room, assisting the other dancers, starting with the newest addition to the class – a couple who had recently retired. When the instructor reached Aziraphale and Jamie she said she was pleased with the box step they were performing, and helped correct the spin turns they’d been attempting. In Aziraphale’s defence, it had taken him a little while to adjust to being led. He had been the one to lead when he danced with Mavis, but when a new set of people arrived they had ended up swapping partners. Jamie had asked to lead and Aziraphale hadn’t minded following. Though, in hindsight, he felt he probably preferred leading.

They practiced spin turns a little longer - and even had a go at some underarm spins with guidance from the instructor. Aziraphale was quite enjoying himself as they moved in time to the bouncy music.

“You’re getting good at this,” Jamie said with a grin once the instructor had wandered off to help another couple.

“Why, thank you! Dancing has never come easy to me, but I believe I’m starting to get the hang of it. Thank you for being so patient with me.”

“We should practice outside of lessons too. How about we go for a drink after class tonight? I know this club with an amazing dance floor.”

“Oh. I’m terribly sorry but Crowley is picking me up.”

“It seems silly him coming all the way out here when I can easily give you a lift home. Text him and tell him not to bother. I’ll drive you home tonight, and I can take you home from the rest of the lessons too. It’s no problem.”

“That’s very kind of you but we’re going out for dinner tonight. Besides, I don’t think clubs are my sort of thing. They play too much bebop.”

“Next week then. We can practice at my place. Or I’ll come to you – we could even dance among the bookcases of your shop!”

Aziraphale quite liked the idea of being able to practice his new skills with someone - practicing by himself just wasn’t the same.

“Maybe during the day would be better? When it’s brighter?” Aziraphale said thoughtfully. “How does Sunday sound?”

“I’ll check my calendar when we’ve finished dancing, but I think I’m free.”

“Splendid!”

The instructor turned the music down. “Can I have your attention everyone? I would like to teach you all a new dance move - the majority of you haven’t tried this one yet. It’s called ‘the dip.’ Maria and Hugo have kindly agreed to show you.” She gestured to a young couple who were incredibly skilled and ahead of everyone else in the class.

Maria and Hugo started off doing the usual box steps and then suddenly Hugo was dipping Maria, supporting her with an arm behind her back. The instructor talked everyone through the steps, and Maria grinned, clearly enjoying the attention.

“Thank you Maria and Hugo. That was perfect. Remember, everyone - only as low as you feel comfortable.”

Maria and Hugo took this opportunity to do another dip, but not as low this time.

“And there’s no pressure,” the instructor said. “Only try it if both you and your partner feel ready. I’ll be walking around if anyone would like some assistance.”

The music was turned up again.

“Ready?” asked Jamie.

Aziraphale nodded eagerly.

***

Crowley was waiting in the Bentley, reading an article about indoor gardening on his phone when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up and saw Aziraphale emerging from the dance studio. There was still five minutes before the end of the lesson, and no one else had left yet. Why was Aziraphale leaving early?

Aziraphale got into the car with a hunted expression. “You were right,” Aziraphale said after a moment. “About Jamie.”

“Oh dear,” said Crowley. “What happened? Did he make overtures?”

“He kissed me.”

Crowley’s eyes widened.

“He dipped me, you see, and then-”

“Wha-?! What’s dipping?!”

“It’s a dance move, Crowley,” Aziraphale said impatiently. “We were practicing dipping, and then – out of nowhere – he kissed me! I panicked and I struggled to get away and, well, he dropped me on the floor. Terribly embarrassing. I hope no one saw. I mean, I’m sure they all realised I’d taken a tumble, but I don’t think anyone witnessed the kiss.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Aziraphale muttered. He started wringing his hands together. “It was a bit of a shock. I didn’t know what to do, so I went to the cloakroom but he followed me. I thought he’d just gotten a bit carried away with the dancing, but he kept saying how great we’d be great together and how cute I am when I’m flustered. I told him I wasn’t interested but he wouldn’t listen and just kept trying to change my mind. And he called me a silver fox! What does that even mean?! I ended up telling him I already have a partner - it was the only way to make him stop.”

“What an arsehole.”

“Don’t, Crowley! It’s not his fault – I must have been giving off mixed signals. I feel terrible about the whole thing.”

“None of this is your fault. Just saying ‘no’ should have been enough to make him shut up.”

“Well. Yes. I just hope he’s not too disappointed. I hope it won’t be awkward next week.”

Crowley stared at him. “You still want to dance with him?!”

“I want to dance,” Aziraphale said with a determined look on his face. “He knows how I feel now so hopefully it’ll all be water under the bridge by next week. But I probably shouldn’t invite him over to the bookshop to practice. Thank goodness we didn’t make concrete plans for Sunday! We didn’t even choose a time.”

“He probably won’t even show up next week - now he knows he’s not gonna get any.”

“Get any what?” Aziraphale asked with a confused frown. “I hope he shows up! I need someone to dance with. I can’t dance with Mavis. She dances with this new fellow who started at the same time as Jamie.”

Crowley hoped this wasn’t going to end with Aziraphale begging him to dance again, although if it meant saving him from Jamie then it’d be worth it.

“Oh! Quick! Let’s go!” Aziraphale cried suddenly.

Jamie had just stepped out of the dance studio and was now marching across the car park.

The Bentley zoomed out of the parking space - making Aziraphale yelp and cling to the ceiling – and then they joined traffic on the main road.

In the rear view mirror Crowley could see Jamie getting into his car. Crowley grinned to himself, feeling as though he’d won somehow, and then feeling a bit pathetic for it.

***

Chapter Text

***

By the time they were sat in the restaurant Aziraphale appeared to have calmed down. He was currently inspecting the menu with great enthusiasm.

“How would you feel about sharing a starter platter?” Aziraphale asked. “We tried the- Oh no!”

Crowley looked up from his menu and saw that Aziraphale was now trying to hide behind his. “What?” Crowley asked.

“Jamie! He’s at the blasted window! Don’t look, Crowley!”

Crowley couldn’t resist the temptation and quickly glanced at the window. Jamie was stood on the other side of the glass watching them with a scowl on his face.

“He’s stalking you now?” Crowley said in disbelief.

“Don’t be silly! He was probably just passing by or something.”

Crowley gave Aziraphale a doubtful look.

Aziraphale drew in a deep breath. “This is rather embarrassing, but… Jamie was convinced you’re my partner for some reason. And I ended up saying you were, just to make him stop asking. I’m terribly sorry!”

Crowley laughed. “No worries, angel, I don’t mind. Actually, this is perfect. If he sees us being all lovey dovey then maybe he’ll back off. Prepare to be romanced!”

“I don’t think-” Aziraphale froze mid-sentence.

Crowley had just placed his hand over Aziraphale’s on the table. It wasn’t like they’d never touched before - barely ten minutes ago Aziraphale had grabbed Crowley by the arm and steered him towards the dessert stand. But Crowley had to admit that usually when he touched Aziraphale’s hand like this to get his attention it wasn’t accompanied by a flirtatious eyebrow wiggle. Aziraphale’s face had gone bright red, but he hadn’t pulled his hand away.

Crowley leaned closer. “How about you lean in and we make it look like we’re about to kiss? That’ll send him packing for sure. Can I kiss you on the cheek?”

“What! No! We are not going to kiss!” Aziraphale hissed, sounding scandalised.

It wasn’t like it they’d never kissed on the cheek before either. Throughout history there were times when a peck on the cheek had been the standard greeting between humans, even between men. But it wasn’t right to push Aziraphale if he didn’t want to, especially considering he’d just had an unwanted kiss forced upon him.

“Alright,” said Crowley. “How about you pretend to tell me a joke, and then I’ll laugh sexily.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Aziraphale yanked his hand away. “Jamie has left now anyway, so you can stop pretending.” Aziraphale looked down at his menu with a frown on his face.

Crowley stared at his own menu, feeling ashamed. He’d wanted to be playful. He’d foolishly hoped that Aziraphale might flirt back given the excuse.

Crowley glanced up. “I’m happy to share a platter, by the way. For the starter. Would you like the fish one?”

“Ah, yes. That’s the one I had my eye on.”

They moved on to discussing what they were considering for their main courses and after a while things seemed to have gone back to normal.

Aziraphale looked up at the pianist who was playing in the corner. “What on Earth is this awful racket? I can’t stand modern music.”

“Aziraphale, this is Elvis Presley.”

“Well, I’m sure it won’t catch on. I’ll go and ask the pianist to play something with a bit more class. He was only too happy to take requests the last time we were here. Excuse me a moment...”

Aziraphale stood up and slipped away. Crowley watched him go, a smile on his face. The main reason the pianist was always so happy to take Aziraphale’s requests was because he always slipped him a fiver.

Crowley turned back to the table and started to fiddle with his phone. After a moment something relaxing by Mozart started to play.

“Good choice, angel,” Crowley said as someone moved in close beside him, but when he looked up he was shocked to see Jamie standing over him instead. Aziraphale was still stood beside the pianist, swaying to the tune with his back to their table.

Jamie crossed his arms. “You should know that your so-called-angel was all over me at dance class. We kissed today, and he wouldn’t even admit he was seeing you until I forced the truth out of him.”

“Fuck off,” said Crowley.

Jamie glared at him. He took a step closer and leant down until he was right in Crowley’s face. “He’s mine! You need to back off!”

Crowley laughed. “Aziraphale is not interested in you. I heard all about how you tried to kiss him and then dropped him on the bloody floor!”

“That’s not what happened! He’s lying! He’s obviously trying to cover his tracks. Don’t you care that he’s cheating on you? You must be an idiot!” Jamie looked Crowley up and down. “And you’re ugly as Hell. I don’t know why he’s even with you.”

“I guess I’m just that good in bed.”

“Not as good as me! I can go all night!”

“As hilarious as this conversation is, I suggest you fuck off before I make you fuck off.”

“I’d like to see you try, you scrawny little bitch.”

Jamie sneered at him, but then he backed away, his face taking on a look of pure innocence. Crowley looked across and saw Aziraphale racing towards them, panic on his face.

When Aziraphale reached them, he gave Jamie a stern look. “What are you doing? You’re making a scene. Go away!”

Jamie pointed a thumb at Crowley. “Why are you with this loser? He’s wearing sunglasses inside like a fucking poser.”

“How dare you! Get out!”

“But he clearly doesn’t love you. He won’t even dance with you!”

“Actually, my Thursdays just freed up,” Crowley said with a smile. “I’d love to dance with you, angel.”

Jamie looked outraged. “No! He’s my partner!”

“I’m not dancing with you ever again, Jamie!” Aziraphale snapped. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense. I’m deeply disappointed in your behaviour.”

Jamie gave Crowley a furious glare, as though this was his fault, but then he turned back to Aziraphale. “You’re making a terrible mistake. Call me when you’re ready to apologise. You have my number.”

Crowley burst into laughter.

Jamie glared at him again, his hands bunched into fists. He opened his mouth to say something but then he seemed to remember that he was in a restaurant full of people – witnesses – and they were all staring at him. He spun around and then stormed out of the restaurant.

“What on Earth possessed him to…?” Aziraphale sat down heavily. He lowered his head, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. “Everyone’s looking at us,” he whispered. “Maybe we should leave.”

Crowley looked around, and, yes, some diners were giggling and whispering while glancing over at them - or at the door which Jamie had slammed closed on his way out. Crowley clicked his fingers and modified the memories of everyone in the restaurant. The background chatter starting up again, along with the sound of clinking cutlery as people returned their attention to their food, the atmosphere in the room going back to normal.

“There we go, angel. Everyone has completely forgotten the last ten minutes. So there’s no need for us to leave - unless you want to.”

“Oh. Oh, thank you,” Aziraphale said with a relieved sigh, smiling gratefully as he relaxed in his seat.

The nearest waiter was hit with the sudden urge to serve their table. He came over, wrote down their orders and then shuffled away.

Aziraphale took a long sip of wine. “You don’t have to dance with me if you don’t want to.”

Crowley shrugged. “Nah. It’ll be fun. Besides, I wanna see Jamie squirm.”

“You’re awful.”

Crowley shrugged. “He probably won’t show up anyway. If he does, I’ll pretend I’m your boyfriend again.”

“You don’t have to do that either,” Aziraphale said, staring into his glass.

“I don’t mind.”

“I suppose if Jamie’s there then we don’t have much of a choice. Oh, I’ve got us into quite the pickle.”

“This is all Jamie’s doing, not yours. Don’t worry about it. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

The starter arrived, and Aziraphale seemed to cheer up as he tucked in.

“You’re really coming dancing with me,” Aziraphale said with a happy sigh. “I never thought this day would come!”

“Neither did I.”

“I think you’ll really enjoy it,” Aziraphale said excitedly as he made light work of the prawns. “Would you prefer to lead or follow?”

“Huh? Oh, I don’t know. Which is easier? What would you prefer to do?”

“I think following might be easier for you as a beginner. And I slightly prefer leading.”

“Okay then, I’ll follow,” Crowley said as he stabbed at a wafer thin slice of salmon with his fork.

“I’ll give Susan – the instructor - a call tomorrow morning and book you in for next week. Oh, I can’t wait!” Aziraphale wiggled happily in his seat.

Crowley smiled but his stomach was in knots. This was beginning to feel real now, the full extent of what he’d agreed to do finally sinking in. He was going to have to dance in front of people while sober and he was going to be shit at it. He really hoped Jamie wasn’t going to be there, the last thing he wanted was to make a fool of himself in front of that arsehole.

Still, Aziraphale was excited, and if doing this would make him happy then maybe it would all be worth it in the end.

***

Crowley sent another YouTube video to the wide-screen television on his living room wall.

The second he’d returned home from dinner with Aziraphale he’d started researching how to dance the Waltz. He’d watched video after video, copying the steps being performed on the screen.

Crowley stepped backwards, sideways, forwards, and then sideways again, following the instructions on screen. The box step was, more or less, just walking in a square over and over again. The steps were surprisingly easy - only slightly more complicated than walking, and he’d mastered that millennia ago. Not even some backward steps could throw him off. If he’d known dancing was this simple, he’d have danced with Aziraphale a long time ago.

Perhaps dancing wasn’t going to be as terrible as he’d thought.

***

The following Thursday Jamie arrived to dance class with a male friend in tow. They looked to be about the same age as each other and were holding hands as they walked in. They stood together in a corner by themselves, chatting and laughing while they waited for class to begin.

“Oh, thank goodness Jamie has found someone else,” Aziraphale said quietly, relief in his voice.

Crowley didn’t feel quite so confident. “I think he’s trying to make you jealous.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.”

“He keeps looking over here to see if you’re watching him.”

Aziraphale’s face fell. “Perhaps he’s just feeling a little embarrassed after his outburst in the restaurant and wants to apologise?”

Crowley highly doubted it.

Two other dancers came over to say hello to them, and Aziraphale smiled brightly.

“Hello, you two! This is my friend, Crowley. The one who owns the Bentley. Crowley, this is Teresa and Thomas.”

Soon, Crowley found himself lost in conversation about vintage cars. If the couple were curious about why Aziraphale and Jamie had both found new partners, they were too polite to ask.

Something by Brahms started to play, and Crowley immediately started tapping his foot on the floor. But his feet were soon going to have to do much more than just that.

***

Crowley stepped on Aziraphale’s foot yet again. “Sorry!”

“It’s alright,” said Aziraphale, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “You’re getting the hang of it. Just try to relax and enjoy yourself.”

“I am trying!” Crowley hissed between his teeth, adjusting his hand where he was clinging to Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Crowley felt like an idiot for believing that practicing to YouTube videos would make him even half-way decent at this. He was struggling to keep in time with Aziraphale, he kept forgetting his steps, and the instructor had been forced to help him several times already. Apparently, his elbow should be up at shoulder height or something but that seemed like the least of his problems.

Crowley was making them both look like fools, and yet, despite his clumsiness, Aziraphale seemed to be enjoying himself. He hadn’t stopped smiling, and that smile was the only thing that was keeping Crowley from giving up entirely.

“One, two, three. One, two, three…” Aziraphale said cheerfully. “That’s it.”

Aziraphale started humming along to the music, a look of contentment on his face.

Their bodies were so close, and Crowley found himself watching Aziraphale’s mouth, heart racing.

He hadn’t accounted for how intimate this would be. They were face-to-face and holding hands. Aziraphale’s other hand was on his back while Crowley’s lay on his shoulder. The proximity was too much. Crowley knew that he was blushing, and he hoped that Aziraphale would just put it down to the exertion or his embarrassment. He could feel his body reacting already, heat spreading between his legs. At least he’d had the foresight to wear female genitalia today, the last thing he wanted was to pop a boner in the middle of dance class.

Crowley accidently kicked Aziraphale in the shin.

“I’m sorry!” Crowley gasped.

Aziraphale chuckled, completely unfazed. “Not to worry, my dear.”

Crowley stared at the floor, trying desperately to concentrate on his footwork.

“We can stop if you’re not enjoying this,” Aziraphale said. “I don’t mind.”

“No. It’s fine.” Crowley wasn’t going to force Aziraphale to stop dancing, not when he was clearly enjoying it so much, and he wasn’t going to let this stupid dance get the better of him either. “I think I’m starting to get the hang of it,” Crowley said, trying to sound relaxed.

At the beginning of the lesson, they’d danced next to Teresa and Thomas who had not only been spinning in circles while doing these steps, but were now dancing merrily around the room while doing them as well. It made Crowley feel pathetic. An old lady and her husband swept past them elegantly, and Crowley wanted the ground to swallow him up. Just when he thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, Jamie and his new partner came towards them, doing various twirls and spins, laughing with delight. Crowley caught a glimpse of Jamie in the floor to ceiling mirror along the wall, and saw the smirk directed right at him and Aziraphale.

Crowley forgot the next step and almost tripped over his own feet. He was only kept upright by Aziraphale holding onto him.

“Oops,” said Aziraphale good-naturedly. “I’ve got you.”

Jamie laughed. “I bet you wish you were dancing with me, Azi!”

Aziraphale ignored him, instead focusing on getting back into position, pulling Crowley in close.

“I said: I bet you wish you were dancing with me!” Jamie shouted.

Aziraphale gave Jamie a withering look. “I heard you the first time,” he said primly. “Now bugger off.”

Crowley snorted with laughter. Hearing Aziraphale use foul language was always a delight.

Aziraphale returned his attention to Crowley, and moved in close to his ear. “You were right. He is jealous,” he muttered under his breath.

“I told you, angel.”

Aziraphale straightened up, and they started to dance. “One, two, three,” he sang. “One, two, three…”

When Crowley glanced in the mirror again, he saw Jamie’s partner trying to steer them away, but Jamie didn’t seem to appreciate his efforts.

“No!” Jamie hissed under his breath. “I’m leading!”

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged raised eyebrows and then focused their attention back on their own dancing.

Jamie made a loud, frustrated sound. “Where are you going?” he shouted angrily. “Peter!”

Jamie was standing with his hands on his hips, watching Peter march off towards the cloakroom. Several of the other dancers had stopped to stare.

“Hey! Don’t ignore me!” Jamie called after him. “Come back here!”

“I’m going home!” Peter shouted from the cloakroom while putting on his coat.

Jamie stormed into the cloakroom. Even from a distance, snippets of their conversation could be heard. “You can’t go home! I drove you here!”

“I’m gonna get a taxi,” Peter snapped. “You’ve been going on about that poor librarian all night and I’m sick of it! Dominic said you’re a dick, and I should have listened to him. This is literally the worst date I’ve ever been on!”

“Dom’ said that? But he said we were cool! Look. Don’t worry. I’ll drive you home. I’m gonna have to leave now anyway.”

“I’m not getting into a car with you.”

“What? Why?”

Peter ignored him and went to the door.

“C’mon, man, don’t be like that.”

There came the sound of the front door opening and closing and then there was silence. The instructor marched urgently after them.

“Oh dear,” said Aziraphale. “I do hope Jamie doesn’t try to follow the poor fellow to the taxi rank. I’ll make sure everything’s okay - with a miracle if needs be.”

Aziraphale hurried towards the door while Crowley stayed put and let out a sigh.

“What was all that about?” a woman’s voice said from beside him.

Crowley turned and saw that Teresa and Thomas had joined him.

Crowley shrugged. “Jamie’s a douche,” he explained.

Teresa let out a laugh. “Yes. I’ve been thinking that too actually. Did Aziraphale and Jamie fall out?”

“Yep. Jamie tried it on and Aziraphale said no, so now Jamie’s being a dick about it.”

“Ah. So that’s what happened. I figured Jamie had a thing for Aziraphale. He’s always flirting with him, but I don’t think Aziraphale ever realised.”

Crowley let out a humourless laugh. “Yeah, Aziraphale didn’t realise until Jamie tried to stick his tongue down his throat last week.”

“What!”

Aziraphale and the dancing instructor came back into the room, and Aziraphale rushed over to Crowley.

“Susan has handled it,” said Aziraphale. “I kept out of the way - I’m sure my getting involved would have only made things worse. Susan had to stop Jamie from following that poor fellow to the taxi rank. Jamie was awfully rude to her so she told him he’s no longer welcome at dance class. He was just getting into his car when we came back in.”

Teresa stared wide eyed at Aziraphale. “And Jamie tried to kiss you last week?”

Aziraphale glared at Crowley.

Crowley shrugged. “What? You know I’m a gossip.”

Aziraphale sighed and then turned towards Teresa. “Last week, while we were learning how to dip… he kissed me. Quite a shock. I struggled and that was why he accidently dropped me.”

“That was why you fell over?! Oh my God. I’m so sorry, Aziraphale. I’m glad he’s not coming back.”

“So am I,” said Aziraphale.

Once everyone started dancing again, Aziraphale leant in close to Crowley and lowered his voice. “I didn’t have to use any miracles in the end, thank goodness.” He let out a sigh. “Perhaps I ought to have booked us in for a different day, and then all of this could have been avoided. I should have known after Jamie’s display in the restaurant that trouble was inevitable.”

“Nah. You shouldn’t have to change your plans just coz of that bastard. Besides, It’s good that his friend saw his true colours.”

“I suppose. I just feel terrible for the innocent bystanders.”

“He knows he’s not welcome here anymore. I’m sure we won’t have to worry about him ever again.”

“I hope you’re right.”

They carried on dancing, and Crowley found it much easier now that he knew Jamie wasn’t watching him. He was just starting to enjoy himself when the lesson came to an end and the music along with it.

Susan gathered them all together for a quick chat, during which she confirmed that Jamie would no longer be coming to classes, and then everyone started filtering out into the cloakroom.

Aziraphale wanted to have a quick word with the instructor, so Crowley decided to go outside and bring the car around for him. He grabbed his coat from the cloakroom, threw it on, and then sauntered towards the door.

His way was blocked by an old lady.

“Hallo, dear! I’m Mavis. I used to dance with Aziraphale. Did I say that right? Such a funny name. Oh, but he’s a lovely fellow. Such a gentleman.”

“I- Er. Yes. He certainly is. Hi.”

“You’re such a handsome young man!”

Crowley smiled faintly.

“You’d look far more handsome without those sunglasses on…”

“I have very sensitive eyes,” Crowley said, pushing them up his nose pointedly.

“What’s your name, dear?”

“Crowley.”

“Are you keeping your Christian name a secret?” Mavis asked with a smile.

“My first name is Anthony.”

“Oh, that’s a lovely name!”

“Thanks,” said Crowley with a genuine smile. He had chosen the name himself after all.

“Oh! My taxi is here. It’s been a delight talking to you, Anthony. Shall I see you next week?”

“You certainly will. It’s been a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too! Say goodbye to Aziraphale for me. He’s still talking Susan’s ear off, I see.”

Crowley laughed. “I will. Ciao.”

Crowley held the door open for her and then he stepped outside himself. Aziraphale was still chatting away to the instructor but everyone else had already left.

***

Chapter Text

***

Aziraphale stayed behind for a few minutes to make sure Susan was okay after her confrontation with Jamie. He’d been awfully rude to her, and she’d told him off like an angry headmistress, giving Peter the perfect opportunity to slip away unnoticed. Fortunately, Susan seemed unfazed by the whole ordeal and was glad when Aziraphale confirmed that Crowley would be returning next week.

After putting on his coat, Aziraphale stepped outside and looked towards the still parked Bentley. He expected to see Crowley sat in the driver’s seat, but instead the demon was standing next to his car. Aziraphale’s stomach flipped when he noticed that Jamie was stood next to him.

Aziraphale stepped off the curb at the same time that Crowley punched Jamie in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“Crowley! No!” Aziraphale glanced back at the building but there was no one in sight. Susan must be in the back somewhere and all the other dancers had already left, driven or walked away. Good. No one saw.

Aziraphale raced towards Crowley and Jamie, desperate to stop things from escalating.

Crowley took a step back while Jamie got to his feet.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale shouted as he reached them. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?!”

“He started it,” Crowley said defensively.

“I didn’t start anything!” Jamie shouted, touching his face where he’d been struck. “It was completely unprovoked! I didn’t lay a finger on him! He’s crazy!”

Aziraphale gave Crowley a stern look. “Whatever he did, that was entirely uncalled for.”

“He keyed the Bentley! Right in front of me!”

Aziraphale glared at Jamie. “That was an incredibly childish thing to do.”

The poor Bentley did indeed have a horrible scratch across the rear door.

“I’m sure we can fix the Bentley up as good as new in no time,” Aziraphale said to Crowley meaningfully. “No harm done.”

“There’ll be plenty of harm done if he doesn’t get out of my sight in the next two seconds,” Crowley growled.

Jamie was shaking with anger, his hands bunched into fists. For a moment it looked like he might take a swing at Crowley, but then he seemed to think better of it. “You’re both losers! I never fancied you anyway, Azi’! You’re ugly and fat-!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Crowley screeched. He darted forward, and Aziraphale only just managed to grab hold of him in time.

Jamie stormed away across the car park.

“You’d better run away!” Crowley shouted as Jamie got into his car. “If I ever see you again you’ll regret it!”

Crowley was shaking and breathing hard. After a moment, Aziraphale released him from his grip.

Crowley swallowed. “Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He called me ugly and scrawny in the restaurant. Absolute prat.”

“What a horrible man.”

Crowley glared at Jamie’s car as it screeched away. The exhaust fell off.

Aziraphale gave Crowley a disapproving look.

“It was practically falling off anyway.” Crowley said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He turned his attention to the Bentley, a pained look on his face, and then he ran gentle fingers over the jagged scratch. When he pulled his hand away, the paint looked as good as new. “Now let’s grab dinner.”

Aziraphale nodded and they both got into the Bentley.

“By the way…” Crowley said as he settled into the driver’s seat. “While Jamie was running away I implanted the idea in his head that he now hates ballroom dancing. Absolutely detests it. So there’s no way he’s going to conveniently forget he was banned and show up. He’ll have no desire to come back.”

Aziraphale sighed. “You know I don’t like you meddling with human minds. It’s terribly invasive.”

“Yeah, well, if he wasn’t such a psycho then I wouldn’t have had to. Actually, I should have done it from the start.” Crowley gave Aziraphale a sidelong look, a glint in his eye. “And you didn’t seem to mind when I altered the memory of everyone at the restaurant.”

“That was different.”

“Or when we needed to get information out of that nun while we were looking for the Antichrist.”

“Now, I definitely remember taking umbrage to that,” Aziraphale argued. “Though I conceded that is was an unfortunate necessity at the time. For the greater good.”

Crowley rolled his eyes.

Aziraphale straightened in his seat. “And I can’t believe you punched Jamie! He’s human, you could have seriously injured him.”

“Humans are tougher than they look,” Crowley said, sinking down in his seat guiltily.

“All the same…”

“Do you want Italian? Or how about that Mexican place around the corner?”

“Oh! Oh, let’s go to that Mexican place. We’ve not been there in months.”

“Righto,” said Crowley, and the car pulled away from the curb.

***

The next week they went to dance class again, and as Crowley had promised, Jamie didn’t attend.

To Aziraphale’s delight, Crowley seemed far more relaxed and happy this time. His confidence had improved so much that towards the end of the lesson they even tried rotating while they did the box step. Aziraphale had a wonderful time, and Crowley seemed to enjoy himself too. Afterwards, they went out for dinner, and then back to the bookshop.

They’d been drinking together in the backroom for several hours.

Crowley started humming the Emperor Waltz by Johann Strauss - which they had heard that day during dance class - and Aziraphale joined in, humming along as he got to his feet. He danced over to the gramophone and then sorted through his collection of records. Soon the Emperor Waltz filled the air.

Crowley was on his feet in seconds. “Let’s dance, angel!” he slurred.

Aziraphale chuckled. “You’ll have to put your wine glass down first.”

Crowley looked at the wineglass in his hand as though seeing it for the first time. He drank the last few drops in one gulp and then slammed it down on the table. “Let’s do this. C’mon!”

Smiling brightly, Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand in his own. Moments later, a warm hand slithered up to his shoulder.

They started to move, clumsy with drink and not at all in time with the music or each other. They accidently stepped on each other’s feet several times and dissolved into fits of giggles. Once they’d achieved some sort of rhythm, they tried twirling around in circles but stopped when they bumped into the sofa.

“How’s this compare to that dance you learnt before? You know. The whatsit… The garrotte.”

“The gavotte,” Aziraphale corrected him with a laugh. “No garrotting involved! At least I hope not!”

A mischievous look came into Crowley’s eyes. His hand crept up from Aziraphale’s shoulder to mimic grabbing his throat before quickly returning to its original position.

“You fiend!” Aziraphale said with a laugh.

Crowley grinned.

“I think the gavotte was easier to learn,” Aziraphale said thoughtfully. “Although that might be because we took a rather relaxed view to it.”

After all, Aziraphale had been rather tipsy by the time the dancing took place - along with the rest of the gentlemen at the club.

“Wha’? So you started me off with a difficult one? Bastard.”

Aziraphale laughed.

“Teach me how to gavotte, angel.”

“Oh, I don’t think- It needs a whole entourage, really. It’s not a two person dance… well, not exactly. We used to dance together in a row, with linked arms.” Aziraphale hesitated. “But maybe we could try it, just the two of us.”

Aziraphale moved to stand beside Crowley and then he hooked their arms together. “Like this. And then we just…” Aziraphale started to kick his legs up in the air, one and then the other, in time with the music.

Crowley joined in, kicking his legs enthusiastically. Aziraphale beamed, enjoying this immensely, and relishing the look of joy on Crowley’s face as they danced.

Crowley turned to Aziraphale with a grin. “This is just the can-can!”

“It is not!” Aziraphale chided. “And we’re supposed to move back and forth while we do it. Like this…” He took a few steps backwards, dragging Crowley with him, and then he skipped forwards again. “And then it ends with this.” He swept his hands out before him dramatically. “Well actually, it ends with-” Aziraphale hurriedly cut himself off.

Crowley copied his actions, spreading out his arms and then wiggling his fingers. “This is just jazz hands.”

“Oh, shush you.”

“Wha’s it actually end with?”

Aziraphale averted his eyes, his cheeks suddenly feeling hot. “Well,” he said with an embarrassed laugh. “A kiss on the cheek.”

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up his face. “Oh, yeah? Lots of kissing going on in your ‘men-only’ Gentleman’s club, was there?”

“…a little.”

“Always on the cheek, was it?” Crowley asked with a devilish grin.

“In my case, yes. Though I grant you, there was a fair amount of tonsil-tennis going on elsewhere.”

“I bet there was!” Crowley said with a roar of laughter. “What music did you listen to while you gavotted?”

Aziraphale leapt upon this change of subject. “Oh, all sorts. But Walter – our resident pianist – he liked to play ‘I am a Courtier, Grave and Serious.’ You know, from that opera.”

“The Gondoliers? Yeah, I remember.” Crowley’s lip quirked. “How do the lyrics go?”

“I don’t recall. Walter didn’t tend to sing along.”

“Do you have it for your gramophone?”

“I must do somewhere.”

Aziraphale was about to release Crowley’s arm in order to go rooting through his collection when he realised that he didn’t need to, he could just use a miracle. He didn’t need to ration his miracle use any more - he hadn’t for over a year - but old habits die hard. Aziraphale could be as frivolous as he liked! After all, what could Gabriel do about it now?

Aziraphale blinked, and ‘I am a Courtier, Grave and Serious’ started to play. Aziraphale let out a delighted sound, feeling wonderfully naughty for his blatant disregard of Heavens rules.

They danced side-by-side with their arms linked, kicking up their legs as they skipped backwards, almost tripping over empty wine bottles.

When the lyrics got to the line, ‘I am a courtier grave and serious, who is about to kiss your hand,’ Crowley eagerly joined in, out of tune, and sang instead: “Who’s about to kiss your cheek!”

They bounded forwards and backwards a few more times, and then - still with their arms linked together - Crowley thrust out his hands, waving his fingers vigorously, and then he turned towards Aziraphale with a hopeful look on his face.

Aziraphale’s stomach fluttered at the sight of him, his golden eyes shining in the lamplight. He looked so beautiful, his mouth close enough to kiss. Heart pounding, Aziraphale leant forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. It felt incredibly bold and daring.

Crowley moved closer and kissed him back, lips soft against Aziraphale’s cheek.

They skipped backwards, Aziraphale feeling lightheaded, and then they charged forwards again and Aziraphale thrust out his arms in front of him, eager to get to the next part. He turned his face towards Crowley and was greeted with a kiss on the mouth.

Aziraphale couldn’t believe it. Crowley was kissing him, his warm lips moving against his own. Nothing could have prepared him for the reality of this moment.

It was over far too soon. Crowley drew back, a nervous look on his face.

Aziraphale lunged forward, moving on instinct and pressing their lips together again. Crowley gasped, and then he was kissing him back eagerly, and before long their kisses were open-mouthed, wet and hungry. Aziraphale’s hands tangled in Crowley’s hair, pulling him close. They stumbled, and Aziraphale pushed Crowley up against a bookcase.

Their bodies were pressed together, and Aziraphale could feel the bulge in Crowley’s trousers pressed against his leg. Crowley was hard already. Hard for him. The very idea of it sent waves of arousal washing through him.

Aziraphale shifted so that their bulges were together and then he rocked his hips, drawing a broken sound from Crowley who was clinging to him.

Aziraphale opened his eyes and then pulled back to get a better look at Crowley. His lips were parted, his hair dishevelled, and he was gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes, drunk with desire, drunk with… well, alcohol.

They really were quite drunk, weren’t they?

Crowley rocked his hips again and tried to pull him in for another kiss.

Aziraphale resisted. He had to. He took a step back.

Crowley was looking at him, his pupils blown wide, his lips kiss bruised. He looked so thoroughly debauched that it took all of Aziraphale’s resolve not to pounce on him again. Instead he squeezed his eyes closed. “W- We’ve had rather a lot to drink,” he said, and then he sobered himself up.

“Yeah. Lemme just…” Crowley’s eyes scrunched up, and then he briefly pulled a face like he’d just eaten an extra sour lemon.

They were both sober.

Crowley looked as tense as Aziraphale felt, staring at him with big worried eyes.

Heat prickled across Aziraphale’s cheeks. He felt horribly self-aware and awkward suddenly. He forced his hands to his sides and took a deep breath. “If it was just the drink, I understand.”

Aziraphale had to give Crowley an out. Maybe he hadn’t fully understood what he was doing, maybe he hadn’t meant to do it. But for all of Aziraphale’s worries, a fragile hope still filled his chest.

“It wasn’t the drink,” Crowley said, his voice shaking. “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time.”

“Oh. Oh, really?” Aziraphale said, heart racing. He took a step closer. “So have I.”

Crowley’s face lit up, and then he reached out and took one of Aziraphale’s hands in his own.

“I- I didn’t think you liked me in that way,” Aziraphale said.

“Course I do, angel. You’re gorgeous. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same and I didn’t want to mess it up. I love you.”

Aziraphale trembled, his chest tight with emotion. He swallowed thickly, utterly overwhelmed. “I love you.”

Crowley squeezed his hand. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Of course you can bloody kiss me. C’mere!”

Crowley pulled him close and pressed their mouths together. Aziraphale instantly melted into it. The kiss was slow and hesitant at first - this was still new for the both of them - but the kiss deepened as their confidence grew, until they were kissing as enthusiastically and as hungrily as they had been while drunk.

Crowley laughed against Aziraphale’s mouth, a carefree and delighted sound, and then he wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s shoulders. They swayed together in time with the music, Aziraphale’s hands holding onto Crowley’s waist, holding him close.

“We’re slow dancing,” Crowley said after a moment, amusement in his voice. He kissed the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth. “You’re teaching me so many new dances.”

“And you’re wonderful at all of them.”

Moments later, they were waltzing around the room, holding each other closer than ever before while performing this dance, and every now and then they would kiss or lay their head against the other’s shoulder. Aziraphale felt so happy he could cry.

Soon enough they were slow dancing again, neither of them noticing that the music had finished long ago.

***

Chapter Text

***

Aziraphale was in his bookshop, carefully reorganising a bookcase while humming cheerfully to himself. Crowley would be coming to whisk him away for lunch soon and he’d been looking forward to it all morning.

Several days had passed since their first kiss, and they’d been inseparable ever since - up until this morning when Crowley had gone back to his flat to water his plants and check his post. Aziraphale had left the door unlocked for him, making sure that the sign in the window read ‘closed’ in order to deter any prospective customers.

When the door finally opened Aziraphale raced to the front of the shop eagerly, but his smile fell away when he saw Jamie stood by the now closed door.

Not this nonsense again. The last time he’d seen Jamie was when he’d scratched the Bentley with his car keys, and Aziraphale had hoped that they’d never cross paths again.

“What the devil are you doing here?” said Aziraphale.

“It’s a shop, isn’t it? Maybe I wanted to buy a book,” Jamie snapped.

“Didn’t you see the sign? We’re closed!”

“Shouldn’t have left the door unlocked then.”

Aziraphale put his hands on his hips. “I have no patience for your shenanigans! You’re not welcome here. Go away!”

“My boyfriend won’t talk to me anymore and it’s your fault! He’s threatening to get a restraining order! And my best mate took his side!”

“Well, they sound like very sensible people.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you! You made me snap at Peter when we were at dance class. You’ve ruined my life!”

“You’re wholly responsible for your own actions. Now get out.”

Jamie jutted his chin forward. “I bet you’re alone in here. I saw your stupid poser boyfriend leaving in his stupid poser car.”

“Of course there’s no one here. Because the shop is closed! Now go away!” Aziraphale pointed angrily at the door.

“I bet he’s a gold digger. I bet that’s why he’s with you. You’re old enough to be his-”

“Shut up!” Aziraphale roared. He started towards Jamie, burning with fury, fully prepared to grab him and push him outside, but Jamie turned towards the door himself and for a moment Aziraphale thought he was about to storm out. Instead, he locked the door.

“What are you doing?” Aziraphale said.

“I’m going to make you pay! I’m going to make you wish you never messed with me!” Jamie’s eyes were wild and manic, his mouth twisted into a horrible grin. “This is your own fault.”

Jamie closed the gap between them in a heartbeat and struck Aziraphale hard across the face. Aziraphale drew in a sharp breath, face stinging as he found himself being shoved backwards against the wall. Aziraphale tried to push Jamie away but he was stronger than he looked, easily catching one of Aziraphale’s wrists in a vice-like grip.

“Stop it!” Aziraphale shouted, and then let out a shocked cry when Jamie attempted to crush their mouths together. Spluttering, Aziraphale turned his face away but Jamie yanked at his hair, trying to make him turn back.

A hand went down to Aziraphale’s belt, making it all too clear exactly what Jamie intended to do.

Aziraphale was revolted by his touch, he felt humiliated, but most of all he felt furious – because if Jamie was willing to do this to him then he’d be willing to do this to a defenceless human.

Aziraphale was not defenceless.

A blinding white light filled the room as Aziraphale’s divinity burst free, white wings expanding above him with a deafening boom. His clothes morphed into white robes while his skin became iridescent, glowing with a cold white light. His halo – made of countless spinning, screeching rings - burned so fiercely that the air around them sizzled. He was surrounded by countless floating eyes which darted this way and that before focusing on the lone human in the room.

Jamie had been thrown to the floor with the force of the transformation. He was sprawled on his back, winded, and no doubt feeling as though he’d just been caught in an explosion. He stared up at Aziraphale - Principality, Guardian of the Eastern gate - and his mouth opened in a silent scream.

Aziraphale knew that to mortal eyes he looked hideous and unnatural - a truly dangerous and inhuman thing.

Jamie made a choking sound, tears streaming down his face as he stared up at the angel towering over him. All at once, he seemed to regain control of his limbs and started to crawl backwards with jerky movements, his shoes skidding on the carpet, desperate to get away.

But Aziraphale wasn’t done with him.

Jamie let out a sob as his body froze, paralysed by divine power.

“I should smite you where you lay, you worthless creature! I should cast you into the bowels of Hell,” Aziraphale yelled, his voice loud and echoing around the room. “How dare you. How you dare you!”

Angels were not allowed to show their angelic forms to humans. Not because it would frighten them – oh, no, Heaven didn’t care if some human were traumatised – but because it was cheating. Being given evidence of the divine took away a certain level of choice. Humans were supposed to believe, not know. But Aziraphale didn’t care. This wasn’t about trying to save Jamie’s soul, this was about making sure that he never hurt anyone ever again.

“Did you hurt Peter? Did you touch him?”

If he had, Aziraphale would never forgive himself. He should have realised long before now just how dangerous Jamie was. He should have asked Crowley to make Jamie keep away from Peter instead of just putting him off ballroom dancing. In fact, Aziraphale should have done something himself instead of leaving it all up to Crowley.

“N- N- No,” Jamie sobbed.

Aziraphale could tell that Jamie was telling the truth, could see it in the thoughts running behind his eyes. Jamie had hounded the poor boy, sent him countless messages, but he’d not laid a finger on him. Jamie had foolishly believed that he was still in with a chance of winning Peter back - up until a few hours ago when he’d received a message threatening a restraining order.

“You will not go near Peter or talk to him ever again,” Aziraphale stated - a command which couldn’t be ignored.

Jamie nodded, tears and snot running down his face.

Aziraphale’s many floating eyes moved closer to Jamie, whose own wide eyes darted from one to the next in horror.

“My many eyes will watch you for the rest of your existence. They will follow you, unseen. If you try to hurt another living soul, I will smite you – I will destroy you! Do you understand?”

Jamie nodded.

“Do you understand?!”

“Yes! Yes, I’m sorry! I promise I’ll never-”

“Then get the fuck out of my bookshop!”

Aziraphale released his paralysing hold on Jamie’s body, and - limbs now able to move - Jamie scrambled to his feet on unsteady legs and then staggered over to the door. He spent a panicked few seconds trying to wrench the door open before remembering that he’d locked it himself. He turned the key with a shaking hand, threw open the door and then fled into the outside world.

The holy light faded and Aziraphale’s wings retracted as he slowly lowered himself back to the ground, the last of his floating eyeballs vanishing from view.

The eyes were attached to his angelic form and therefore couldn’t leave in order to follow Jamie around as Aziraphale had threatened, but Jamie didn’t know that. Aziraphale knew that he’d frightened Jamie enough to stop him from ever attacking another living soul ever again.

***

Crowley tried to open the door to the bookshop but found it locked. He could have sworn Aziraphale had said he’d leave the door open for him. Oh well, he must have changed his mind. He considered knocking, but Aziraphale was expecting him after all, so with a wave of his hand the door unlocked. Crowley sauntered inside and then he froze.

There were books scattered across the floor with creased pages, and a table lamp lay on its side among them. The circular rug had been pulled back revealing a chalked circle on the floorboards surrounded by neatly written passages from the Cabala.

It was a communication circle to Heaven.

Aziraphale was sat on the floor with his back to the desk. His knees were drawn up to his chest and his arms were wrapped tightly around them. Crowley couldn’t see his face, pressed as it was against his knees.

Crowley’s stomach clenched, heart racing. “Angel? What happened?”

Aziraphale flinched and looked up, seeming to have only just noticed he was there. He hurriedly dried his eyes on his sleeve.

Crowley looked again at the chalk circle and for a horrible moment thought that Heaven had contacted Aziraphale - but no, the rug must have been drawn back by Aziraphale himself, and there was a box of candles next to him which he would need if he wanted to activate the circle.

“I’m okay,” Aziraphale reassured him.

Warily, Crowley walked around the circle and then dropped down to his knees beside Aziraphale. “You wanted to talk to Heaven?”

“I thought I did,” Aziraphale said in a shaky voice. “I was going to. I wanted to explain. I did something I shouldn’t have.” Aziraphale swallowed. “I- I revealed my true form to a human.”

Crowley’s mouth fell open, but he quickly forced his face back to something calm. “That’s okay, angel. It doesn’t matter.”

“I thought they might send someone to tell me off…”

“No. They won’t do that. They’re scared of you now, remember? They’re scared of both of us.”

Aziraphale hesitated for a moment and then he nodded. He shifted towards Crowley who pulled him into a hug.

Crowley wondered what had happened. Perhaps Aziraphale had left the door unlocked after all and a human didn’t read the sign and came into the shop while Aziraphale was in his true form.

“Were you able to erase their memory? It’s okay if not. I’ll find them. I’ll deal with it.”

“It was Jamie.”

“That fucker!”

“He came in here, and he was terribly angry, and he wouldn’t leave. I rather lost my temper.”

“I’m not surprised. Did you erase his memory afterwards?”

Aziraphale let out a bitter laugh. “No, I didn’t. I want him to remember every terrifying moment it, everything I said.”

“Wow. He really pissed you off, huh?”

Aziraphale swallowed. He looked Crowley in the eye and then let out a shaky breath. “He pinned me to the wall and tried to kiss me. He wouldn’t stop so I made him stop.”

Crowley’s eyes bulged, a wild and protective fury overwhelming him. “I’ll kill him! I’ll fucking kill the bastard!”

“No, you won’t.” Aziraphale said firmly. “I’ve dealt with him. I’ve scared the living daylights out of him. He won’t do that to anyone ever again - he wouldn’t dare.” Aziraphale’s lip pulled into a half-smile. “He thinks my eyes are going to follow him around for the rest of his life. I’ve put the fear of God into him.”

“Sounds like you’ve put the fear of Aziraphale into him,” Crowley said. He took Aziraphale’s hand and squeezed it. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted. Shaken. Like I could do with a good cup of tea.”

“I’ll put the kettle on,” Crowley said urgently. “But first of all, let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

Gently, Crowley helped Aziraphale to his feet, and as they headed towards the back room he kicked the rug back into place and picked up the fallen books and the table lamp.

“I think I knocked them over when my wings popped out,” Aziraphale said while Crowley fixed the creased pages with a quick demonic miracle.

Crowley shepherded Aziraphale into the backroom and then got him settled into his armchair.

“Will you be okay while I make the tea?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale smiled, suddenly looking much more himself. “Yes. Thank you. Could you bring the shortbreads? They’re in the same cupboard as the tea.”

“Of course,” Crowley said, and then he was in the kitchenette putting the kettle on and rooting through the cupboards.

When he returned to the backroom he noticed that Aziraphale had moved from his armchair and was now sat on the sofa. Crowley sat down beside him and pulled him into a hug.

***

Crowley leant back in his chair, a smile on his face and a glass of wine in his hand. He was sat at a large circular table – one of many which surrounded a ballroom dance-floor.

The dance studio held a ball every four months - three a year – and Crowley and Aziraphale had been to every single one since they started dancing together. This was their ninth. There was always a three course meal and afterwards they would dance the night away.

Crowley smiled as he watched Aziraphale waltzing with Mavis in the centre of the room, surrounded by several other dancing couples. Mavis’s usual partner – an older gentleman - was sat with a man of a similar age, the two of them laughing over pints of beer. The other man’s wife was sat beside them, merrily polishing off a slice of blueberry cheesecake.

Crowley and Aziraphale had been unable to hide the change in their relationship, and more to the point, they hadn’t wanted to hide it. Mavis – with the bluntness of the elder generation – had caught Crowley on his own as soon as she’d realised that they were an item, expressing her concern about the age gap and warning Crowley not to ‘string Aziraphale along and break the poor dears heart.’ Crowley had reassured her that he was older than he looked, and more to the point, he would never do anything to hurt Aziraphale.

If only he could have told her that they were exactly the same age – not to mention older than everyone else in the room.

It had been three years since Crowley had first joined the dance classes, and several of the original couples still attended every week. Teresa and Thomas - who had only joined in order to put together a routine for the first dance at their wedding – had enjoyed the lessons so much that they had continued to attend even after their wedding had been and gone. They were currently on their way back from the dance floor. Teresa sat down next to Crowley while her husband stood beside them.

“I’m heading to the bar,” said Thomas. “Can I get you anything, Crowley?”

“Nah, I’m good, thanks.”

Once Thomas had gone, Teresa leant close and lowered her voice. “You won’t believe who I saw when I picked up my granny from church last week.”

Crowley cocked an eyebrow.

“It was Jamie! Do you remember him?”

Of course he remembered the man that tried to force himself on Aziraphale - not that Teresa knew what had happened that day. “Yeah, I remember that asshole. Found God has he?”

“Yeah! Never imagined he’d be the religious type! He’s super into it. Told me I need to start praying for my soul. He insisted that Heaven and Hell are real and God is vengeful and we should all be afraid. He’s lost the plot. Oh, sorry,” she added awkwardly. “You’re not religious are you?”

Crowley couldn’t help but laugh. “Religion isn’t for me.”

“Me neither.”

Thomas returned soon after with two drinks and settled down next to Teresa.

Mavis, looking happy but exhausted, returned to her seat - beside the lady who had just finished her cheesecake – and Aziraphale came over to Crowley with a hopeful look on his face. Before Aziraphale had even said a word, Crowley was downing the last of his wine and standing up. He took Aziraphale by the hand and led him to the dance floor.

For all of their practicing, they couldn’t be described as anything other than amateur, but they enjoyed themselves all the same and that was all that really mattered. Dancing might not be in their nature but they had both broken their moulds long ago.

They danced around the room, Aziraphale leading, following a routine they had put together themselves. Crowley spun under Aziraphale’s raised hand, and then they did their final move.

Crowley let himself fall backwards and was caught in Aziraphale’s strong arms. Crowley gazed up at his angel, overwhelmed with love and adoration, and then Aziraphale leant down and kissed him on the mouth. Crowley kissed him back, melting into it, and before he knew it Aziraphale was lifting him upright into a hug.

By the end of the night - once suitably sozzled - Crowley, Aziraphale, Teresa and Thomas all linked arms and broke into the Gavotte.

***
End
***