Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Effortfully attempting to create a satisfactory drawing while simultaneously having to listen to lecture about why the loch ness monster actually exists, was a difficult task, especially when you were a fourteen-year-old boy who already had trouble focusing. That’s what Crowley had to deal with right now. He never understood who thought that mixing art class with story time plus conspiracy theories was a good idea, as it had been nowhere to be seen in the advertisement for the class, when he signed up for them four years ago. The stories their teacher – Mr. Arch told them weren’t bad per se, there bound to be some interesting ones, or even ones that were highly amusing, but the problem was these were supposed be just art classes, and they mostly failed at that largely. Of course Mr. Arch helped them from time to time and decided on the topics of whatever they were to draw, but in the grand scheme of things it was more of a drawing club than drawing class.

Crowley bore through it, though, for the reasons only known to himself. There was only one thing keeping him here, and that thing, or rather that person was sitting right next to him, scribbling something on his piece of paper.

Aziraphale was leaning down with crested brows, every now and then exchanging his pencil to his eraser and vice versa, he had mysterious expression on his face that was practically unreadable for regular mortals. But Crowley was Aziraphale’s best friend so he knew that it simply meant something along the lines of ‘could everyone please shut up, I’m trying to focus’, so similarly to how he was feeling.

Then some kid had to chime in and ask their teacher what evidence exactly he had on his theory, and it resulted in a long dreadful story of woman who was killed by said monster (which was frankly idiotic, because loch ness monster would never kill anyone, thank you very much). That was the point Crowley realised that he seriously couldn’t stand it any longer, so he just let himself zone out of the reality completely.

His eyes found Aziraphale again. Not really arbitrarily, it was just that Aziraphale was very nice to look at.

Crowley debated on numerous different occasions before, what exactly made it so appealing to gaze at his friend. He never came to a coherent conclusion to that. It was peculiar, really, how absolutely pleasant it felt to study those soft looking blond locs, and that face so often adored with a smile.

Today, Aziraphale’s hair was a little messy, Crowley realised, it made him look rather adorable. He had an urge to fix it, maybe because he had a need for it to look aesthetic or maybe because he kind of wanted to find out how it would feel under his fingers.

Though, why would he really want to know that? Why was Aziraphale the only friend of his he wanted to fix the hair of? These were just more of unanswerable questions regarding their friendship.

And his friendship with Aziraphale was positively different than any of his other ones.

Because no other friend he had would in a lifetime make him shy.

And Aziraphale made him shy.

On occasion only, of course, not all the time. But still.

That was one of the reasons he was also Crowley’s only friend whom he didn’t have a phone number of, because every time he thought of asking for it, he got extremely nervous.

Which was kind of infuriating, since he didn’t have any contact with Aziraphale after their art class. The thing was, asking for his number always reminded Crowley of one of countless dating stories in which someone asked the other for their number and it resulted in various romantic scenarios, which was actually weird that he connotated those two situations anyway.

But that affair really didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, because Aziraphale was still Crowley’s best friend, with the telephone number or without it. Aziraphale still was the person he felt the happiest with, and he could share his sincere thoughts with, and could have the most profound conversation with. But still Crowley found a problem with the fact that they could only chat during those art classes and well, after them, these were the moments during they talked the most, during which they could share everything they wanted the other to catch up on, these were always the highlight of Crowley’s week.

A voice disrupted his musing. That was Mr. Arch who finally decided to talk about something that was factually connected to art.

Before the classes ended everyone was given a flyer – a program of this year’s holiday camp. It was not the first time the trip was mentioned, but Crowley paid it no mind, because for his knowledge no one he knew closer was going, and so he wasn’t planning on either. But he took the flyer, just in case.

It turned out to be a good idea, because as soon as both he and Aziraphale sat next to each other on a near brick fence they liked to occupy, Crowley’s friend pulled out his own leaflet and examined it carefully. “They have an interesting program this year, don’t you think?” he asked raising his eyes to meet Crowley’s.

“Uhh, I haven’t really got a good look on it yet,” he admitted.

“I recommend checking.”

“Will do, later.”

That seemed to satisfy Aziraphale. “Are you going?”

Crowley hesitated. “I’m not sure. You know what I think about some of the methods they use here.” He waved vaguely at the building before them. “And are you?”

Aziraphale’s smile immediately dropped. “I wanted to, but only if you’re going.”

“Oh.” That changed the whole case. Aziraphale wanted him to be there, and Aziraphale was… very important. Besides, didn’t Crowley want an opportunity to spend more time with him, anyway? He messed his hair with his hand, nervously. “I mean, I didn’t say I won’t think about it. I just- I just need to ask my parents.”

That cheered his friend up. “I’m sure they’ll agree,” he said.

“Possibly.”

“They have to,” insisted Aziraphale. “And if they won’t, beg them.”

Crowley smirked. “That sounds a little desperate, don’t you think?” He kicked a rock that laid beneath him on the ground, in a subtle attempt at calming his restless mind. Unfortunately, the rock rolled too far for him to reach it and kick it again.

“This is an important cause,” his friend stated, and when Crowley didn’t respond added, “You would do that for me, wouldn’t you?” His lovely blue eyes were glued to Crowley’s face, wide and waiting.

Crowley’s chest tightened. “Yeah, yeah. I probably would,” he murmured weakly.

Aziraphale closed his eyes then, in a smile that was even more chest-tightening. “Good. I would do that for you too.”

Crowley breathed in, trying to sit still on the brick fence. What wouldn’t he do for Aziraphale? That was a more challenging question.

“Oh, dear!” Suddenly Aziraphale jumped up. “I forgot my parents wanted me to be home earlier today!” He gave Crowley a disconcerted look. “I’m sorry, I wish I could stay longer, but I have to go.”

“No worries,” he only said, but he sensed as his heart gave a sad little thump in his chest. “I should probably go too.”

He got a thankful smile as a response. “Alright,” Aziraphale quickly ran up to hug him goodbye. “Have a lovely evening,” he murmured. Then he left.

Crowley stood still, watching his friend’s disappearing silhouette in the distance. He sighed. The things he’d do to have more of Aziraphale in his life…

He glanced at a flyer that he still squeezed in his hand.

Right.

He got up, and as quickly as he could he ran home.

~*~

Crowley managed to get his way to his house in less than ten minutes, panting and wheezing as he got to the door.

“Dad!” he called out as soon as he entered.

He proceeded to walk up closer, ending up in the kitchen where his dad sat at the table with an unfolded newspaper that covered his whole face. As he noticed Crowley next to him, just after a glance he gave him his full attention. “Oh, hi Tony! How were the classes?”

“Good, good. But I have a question for you!” he panted.

“Have you been running?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t matter, the question’s more important.”

“I’m all ears, then.”

Crowley felt his intense heartbeat weaken when he took a deep breath and pulled out a chair to sit down on. “They’re organizing a holiday camp!”

“The art classes?”

“Yeah.” He gave a nod. “And I wanna go. Can I go?” Crowley hoped a pleading look was enough to convince him. No matter what he said earlier, he was hoping he wouldn’t have to try Aziraphale’s begging technique.

His dad gave him a wary glance. “I thought you were complaining about them. You said they were adding ‘unnecessary accompaniments’ to their program, no?”

“Wellll... yeah, yeah they do and yeah I complained about them, but drawing is still fun,” he said, and after a moment of hesitation added, “and I have a friend there.”

“Why didn’t I hear about that? You always bring all of your friends along.”

Crowley actually felt himself blush. “He’s different,” he muttered. “He’s just… different. But he’s my best friend.”

His dad raised an eyebrow. “If he’s your best friend, as you say, I should say you should invite him.”

Crowley stared stubbornly at the table. “I… can’t.”

“Do his parents not let him?”

“No, I just can’t.”

“Why?” his dad asked. Oh, how infuriating that was.

Crowley hid his face in his arms. “I’m just too shy to ask, okay?”

“Shy?” Why did his dad decide to ask all of those stupid questions today? Was he trying to annoy Crowley or something?

“Yes, he makes me shy sometimes, happy?”

His dad seemed to grasp his mistake, as he reflected. “Sorry. I just wasn’t sure I understood correctly. I can hardly hear you, when you cover your face like that.”

Crowley just grumbled something and sat up.

“What is his name?”

“Aziraphale.”

“What a lovely name.”

“Yes, it is. He is… lovely,” he mumbled and felt his face warm up again.

At that his dad gave him a frown and no reply. His face looked as if he just figured something out and came to a very surprising conclusion.

“Anyway, I’m not here to talk about Aziraphale, but asking you if I can go to the trip, so?”

His father looked at him with concentration, and then blinked. “Right, of course. What’s the price?”

Crowley handed him the flyer. “Here.”

He took it and read through it. “Seems pretty reasonable to me. But doesn’t it says here that the camp won’t just focus only on the art part of it? They also mention some sports-like activities. It didn’t think that’s something that you’d fancy.”

“I know, and I don’t care,” Crowley rushed. “I still wanna go.”

“If that’s what you want, I don’t see any impediments.”

“So, is that a yes?” he asked hopefully.

“Pretty much, I just have to consult it with your mum when she gets back from work.”

“Yes!” Crowley triumphed. “Thanks dad!”

His father only rolled his eyes fondly and returned to the paper.

~*~

Crowley barely slept that night. His head was flooded with daydreams. He imagined the trip, sitting together with Aziraphale in the coach, sharing a room with him, late nights spent on chatting. Hours and hours of talking with his best friend, almost without limits.

Oh, that really was going to be a trip he couldn’t possibly regret.

~*~

The next Friday was a marvel, Crowley had to admit. The weather was splendid, the school year was slowly coming to an end, so naturally there was more free time, and also on Fridays his additional art classes took place.

He went to the building of cultural centre, in which the classes were held, earlier in hopes that Aziraphale decided the same. Sometimes he would and then Crowley would find him with a book in his grip sitting on a narrow bench, near the door of the building, with his folder next to him, humming something under his breath.

Today, unfortunately wasn’t that kind of day, Aziraphale was nowhere to be seen, but Crowley wasn’t discouraged. He waited patiently, until nearly bore a hole in the pavement on which he was circling about.

Aziraphale came at last, with his usual cheerfulness. “Good afternoon,” he greeted with a smile.

Crowley just grinned. “I’m going.”

“On the camp you mean?”

“Yes! I’m going, Aziraphale. My parents agreed!”

His friend beamed. “Goodness, is that true?”

“Honest to God.”

Aziraphale beamed even more brightly, then took both of Crowley’s hands in his. “My dear, you won’t believe how happy I am! With you with me it’s going to be a remarkable trip.”

“Right? We’re gonna spend so much time together!”

They grinned at each other like fools, and Crowley not really for the first time wondered why on earth did he never try inviting Aziraphale somewhere. If that’s how his reaction on perspective of spending time with Crowley looked, then he would surely want more of that.

That was it, that was what Crowley had to do. So he promised himself that if everything went well on the camp, he was going to finally invite his best friend over. And he was not going to act like a nervous idiot about it.

They entered the building together, chatting about all the plans they had for the trip. The classes were almost starting when they sat in their respective desks.

“Welcome everybody!” Mr. Arch started. “I hope you have all of your supplies prepared.”

Everyone took out their supplies.

“Today, I wanted you to draw your favourite character. It can be anyone, so you can use whatever techniques that are needed for them,” he said. “In the meantime I wanted all of you to hear a story of man I read about lately. I found it very important, and I wanted to share it with you. And, of course if you need any help ask me anything.”

Almost everyone got to their work trying to ignore their teacher’s story.

“Who are you going to draw?” asked Crowley, peeking at Aziraphale’s work.

His friend covered his piece of paper with his hand. “You’ll find out later, no need to be impatient.”

Crowley made a face at him and turned to his stuff. He already had a plan in mind.

The afternoon passed as it usually did, on everyone engrossed in their drawing, while their teacher talked to himself. Despite repetitive attempts of Crowley trying to decode what Aziraphale was drawing he wasn’t able to find out.

“So who’s that?” he finally asked, staring at the moustachioed man on Aziraphale’s page.

“Hercules Poirot, of course.”

“Oh, I see it now!” Crowley moved his chair closer to have a look on the details. “Have you ever seen the adaptation with David Suchet as Poirot? It’s so good, he’s literally perfect for that role.”

“I’ve seen some glimpses, but I’m still sure the books are better.”

“Some glimpses?! If you’d really seen the series, you’d change your mind.”

“Not a chance!”

“Oh, yes, you would,” Crowley teased with a grin.

Aziraphale just shook his head before turning it to his friend’s piece. “And is that James Bond I see?”

“The one and only,” Crowley admitted, with pride. “Does he look alike?”

“Absolutely!”

Crowley couldn’t stop an honest smile from forming itself on his face. “Good to know.”

After that, as it was per usual, mostly everyone scattered themselves around to have a look at what everybody else had drawn. It was the part when their teacher bent over backwards to get just about anyone to take their seat and stop babbling, unfortunately never with a proper outcome. But it was fun to see him try. Obviously, he eventually managed, or rather he allowed the process to pass naturally.

“Before the class ends, I’d like to remind you all about our holiday trip,” Mr. Arch said at last. “If you decided to go take a form out of this pile and give it to your parents or caretakers. Next week, we’ll see each other the last time this school year, so be sure to bring your filled out forms then. And to those who do, we’ll be seeing each other in August.”

Everyone stormed out of the class to the hall and then the outside. Aziraphale and Crowley as always took their favourite spot by the gate.

Crowley’s excitement didn’t falter, it was still very much ongoing. Not solitary because of the trip, but also because he had other thrilling news to share with Aziraphale. “I wanted to show you something,” he said, reaching into one of his jacket’s pockets, and pulled out an envelope.

“Whatever it is?” Aziraphale leaned closer to take a look at the slip of paper Crowley pulled out of the cover.

“This, Aziraphale, is a ticket to a plant fair.” Crowley replied happily.

Aziraphale beamed with delight. “The one you’ve mentioned? You got it?”

“Yeah, I saved up some money, and here it is.” Crowley held the ticket carefully, keeping a weather eye on it.

“What plants are you going to buy?” asked his friend.

Crowley loved plants, and he knew Aziraphale knew that. He also knew that Aziraphale knew that questions like that were an automatic way to make Crowley talk. So he did, about all the fantastic plants he was going to look at, and what they were called, and how one needed to take care of them. And at those info-dumping sessions Aziraphale never seemed bored. Quite the contrary, he looked more than happy to listen to his friend’s babbling.

“You know, I’ve seen in one of the catalogues that one of the sellers is bringing Philodendron Florida Ghost, I might actually beg my parents to let me buy it. It’s literally so cool, and mostly easy to take care of.”

“What is so cool about it?”

“When the leaves develop at first they’re white, like a ghost,” Crowley grinned. “Then with time they change colour to various shades of green. And the shape of the leaves is so very… noteworthy.” He flapped his hands excitedly.

“Couldn’t you regularly buy it?”

“Well, technically yes, I’m sure I would eventually found someone willing to sell it to me, but it’s generally a rare plant.”

“I see,” Aziraphale said. “Then I’ll keep my fingers crossed that your parents let you buy it.”

“Thank you.”

Their conversation lasted for longer, until the sun was disappearing on the horizon and the air got colder. And when it did they both got a little closer to one another, their arms pressed together, solely to keep each other warm. Soon they would have to part, but for now they were very contented with each other’s presence, and so they talked and talked and talked.

~*~

The last week of school flew by, leaving Crowley free to do whatever he liked. Basking in the freedom he chose to simply stay at home, trusting it would amend the wait to the only trip he was truly enthusiastic about this holiday. Alas, it didn’t help. Contrarily it just left a bigger field for him to lament over how slowly time passed.

Crowley made a big red circle on the date of the trip on his calendar and crossed out every day separating him with it. Obviously, it wasn’t as if he didn’t find any enjoyment during that period, but there was nothing more exciting than a perspective of outing with his best friend, a dream he harboured for years.

He actually became kind of insufferable about it, mentioning it to his parents almost every single day. When they went on a walk, when they were shopping, when they were watching a film together, when they were trying to sleep. He was an absolute terror.

“I’ve never seen you so enthusiastic about anything,” his mum mentioned once, when he was whining over the fact that it was still a week left until the camp. “Maybe besides that one plant fair,” she mused. “Tell me what is really about? Is it about that friend of yours?”

Crowley grimaced. He had no idea where his mother got the info on Aziraphale, but he suspected his dad to be the one who leaked it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he answered proudly.

She just laughed. “Well then, keep your secretes.”

Chapter Text

The coach was already packed with kids, and the whole area with parents and teachers checking if everything is going smoothly, and if all the bags were packed into the boot. The sun was frying everyone like eggs on a pan, weather exceptionally nice.

Crowley couldn’t spot Aziraphale anywhere, but he hoped that once he’d go into the coach, he would find him with a spare seat beside. He was equally nervous and excited. It was long since he persuaded himself to go on an organized trip during his holidays. He’d always content himself with staying at home or visiting his distant family, suddenly finding himself in that chaos was quite unnerving.

He hugged his parents and got an embarrassing kiss on top of his head from his mum, to which he protested, and found his way through the gaggles of parents to the automatic door of the coach. When he climbed the stairs to get to the tight corridor of seats, he glanced about in search of his friend’s fluffy locs. There he was! Aziraphale was waving at him cheerily from his own seat. Crowley nearly ran there, if only the backpacks of other attendees weren’t lumbering the place.

“Hi!” he breath out happily.

Aziraphale was beaming at him. “Hello! I saved you a seat,” he said, taking his things from a place next to him.

“Thanks.” Crowley sat, feeling a peculiar sensation of contentment settle in his chest. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Right,” his friends mused. “We had a couple of weeks without each other.”

Crowley bit his lip. He desperately wanted to let Aziraphale know how much he’d missed him, and how happy he was that they would get to spend at least some of this year’s holidays together but couldn’t bring himself to.

“Oh, and by the way I love your glasses,” Aziraphale said. This year’s summer turned out to be quite splendid, that’s why Crowley had convinced his parents that he needs a new pair of sunglasses, which he was very happy about, and even happier that Aziraphale liked them.

“Do I look cool?” he asked grinning.

“You always look cool, my dear,” Aziraphale stated, somewhat sheepishly. “But they do add a charm, methinks.”

Crowley flushed. “Um, thanks. D’you wanna try them on?” He took the glasses off, passing them to his friend.

“Why not?” Aziraphale carefully slid them on his nose. He looked at Crowley with a lopsided smile. “What do you think?”

Aziraphale looked ridiculous. And bloody cute. With his carefully ironed shirt, his slightly oversized waistcoat, probably stolen from his grandfather’s wardrobe, and those sunglasses completely out of place. He looked ridiculous and so, so cute. Crowley stared at him for good few seconds, frozen in that unexpected realisation, before mumbling out, “Good, you look good.”

A mix of conflicting feelings brewed in his heart. He tried to sort them out, and understand them, but they were truly a mess, so he just shoved them to the most concealed place in his mind and tried very hard to ignore them.

“But I suppose you look better in them,” said Aziraphale, giving the sunglasses back. “Almost like Mr. Bond.”

Crowley huffed. “Sure.” He took them, folded them, and tried very hard not to look at his friend.

A few minutes later, a voice could be heard from the speakers, alas so mushy that Crowley could barely decipher what it had to say. Until it didn’t make some peculiar noises, and a squeak and then the voice was back again this time clear. “Welcome to our yearly art camp!” it said, or rather Mr. Arch said. “Before we depart I need to remind you to fasten your seatbelts and remember – no standing up during our ride. He will have a few stops and a longer one for lunch, so please be patient.” The engine roared. “And that would be all for now. I can officially consider the camp as began!”

The motion of their coach on the road, as it goes most of the times, gradually lulled Crowley. He withstood, for he terribly wanted to ask Aziraphale how his holiday went, but it was irresistible. That’s why soon Crowley could feel as his eyes were shutting themselves without his permission. Aziraphale took notice of that, apparently, because he nudged his drowsy friend and upon getting his attention, he pulled him by his arm to let him rest his head on his shoulder. Crowley complied happily, and then dozed off immediately.

~*~

They got to the camp, late in the evening. In a spacious building with sad yellow walls, covered with vines of withered leaves, they piled in with their cram of loud kids.

It was far too late for dinner, so they were sent away to their rooms that they were provided the keys to. There was no question as to whom was Crowley staying with. The rooms were doubles so there was no necessity of trying to find anyone to join him and Aziraphale, and so they happily departed.

The room was well decorated, but mostly in tacky way, with printed dingy pictures hanging on the walls without symmetry or order, and wallpapers, which might had once been a great addition of the interior design of the place, but now they were serving as kind of protection of the walls, guarding them from any scratches and dirt, but taking the damage themselves. It didn’t mean that Crowley didn’t like the place, it had a sort of familiar feel to it, that reminded him of his visits to his grandma, who might’ve been at little bit too enthusiastic when designing some parts of her flat when she first bought it years ago, but not so enthusiastic about renovating it when it reached its age.

Besides those few flaws everything in their room was quite fine, both he and Aziraphale got sparce beds, able to fit two people each. Their bathroom was just enough for the basic necessities, not pristine, but okay.

Both of them were wore down enough to settle for an immediate trip to their respective beds, hoping to not be disturbed. Naturally, nothing stood in their way. At least besides those few visits from people who came by to see if their bathroom was bigger or not, and if all their lightbulbs worked.

~*~

The first day of their stay there was primarily organisational. They got introduced to the whole area surrounding their resort, to the whereabouts of their classes where their lessons were meant to be held, and their canteen. The place had its charm, one that always graced hospitable and homelike locations. And food here was actually more than delightful. That was at least how Aziraphale described it, when they got served their lunch that consisted of spaghetti Bolognese, and a piece of raspberry tart for dessert.

The time passed more rapidly than Crowley expected it to, due to his excitement and pace of the affairs, and so before he realised that it was happening so, they were already serving dinner. Aziraphale seemed just as enthusiastic, to the extent that he quite pointedly ignored any negatives of their whereabouts. Simply everything seemed to make him happy, not that Crowley was complaining about that. During dinner his friend was in his most adorable state of excitement, praising anything that came before his eyes, like the interior design of the canteen, or his plate full of scrambled egg. Crowley couldn’t ever get enough of that.

After dinner everyone was sent out to their rooms, with a promise of exciting activities awaiting them the next day.

~*~

Crowley was already curled in his blanket, when Aziraphale light up his bedside light on and pulled out a book from his bag.

“What are you reading?” he enquired.

Aziraphale turned to him with soft expression on his face, already half inside the book universe. “‘Romeo and Juliet.’ It’s my second reread already.”

“Really?” Crowley asked, dragging himself out of his bed, slowly approaching Aziraphale’s.

“Of course. I’ve always admired Shakespeare’s works.” Aziraphale flipped through the pages of the book. “And this edition has lovely illustrations. Look.”

“They’re nice,” Crowley admitted. “But why would you read something so depressing?” He sat on the hem of Aziraphale’s bed, eyeing the book.

Aziraphale made a face. “Because it’s good. Did you ever read it?”

“No.”

“Didn’t you have it at school?”

“Skipped it,” Crowley confessed.

“Then how can you even assess it?” huffed Aziraphale. “Come on.” He pulled Crowley by his sleeve. “I can read it to you. One needs to be acquainted with such great literary masterpiece.”

“How are you going to read a stage play?” Crowley asked, but despite that he got closer, and settled himself next to Aziraphale.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

“Alright, alright.”

Aziraphale smiled brightly. “Do you want to start from the beginning or wherever I last finished?”

Crowley shrugged. “Wouldn’t mind either, but I guess the version we spent less time on this book is preferable,” he answered with a smirk.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed with indignation.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sure it’s incredible.”

“I know you’re mocking me.”

Crowley grinned. “You know me so well.”

At first Aziraphale seemed quite crossed, but then his eyes wandered away in a second of unforeseen shyness. “I suppose I do.”

It truly was so unforeseen that Crowley took a second to procced what that meant. When he didn’t get to a proper conclusion he realised it wasn’t for him to analyse and paused the process at once. “Okay.” He got even closer, resting his head on the headboard of Aziraphale’s bed, right next to his friend. “Get on with it,” he urged without any sharpness.

“I’ve just started the second act, should I continue from here?”

“Sure.”

“We’re beginning with a chorus, of course,” Aziraphale said, adjusting the book in his grip, and then cleared his throat. “’Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, and young affection gapes to be his heir’.”

Crowley stopped him, covering the text with his hand. “You’re doing it wrong.”

His friend frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said you’re doing it wrong.” Crowley could barely suppress the corners of his mouth from going up. “You should sing it Aziraphale. It says ‘chorus’ here, see?” he pointed at the top of the page.

Aziraphale made a face. “But I am not a chorus.”

“But it’s clearly made to be sang.”

“I’m not singing for you Crowley!”

“Please.” Crowley tried pulling off the puppy-eyes stare, knowing fully-well that Aziraphale was way better at that. “Won’t you do that for your dear friend, when he’s asking you so nicely?”

“No!”

“Pretty please?”

“You infuriating creature.”

With those words Crowley knew he won.

Aziraphale was whirring a hole in the letters, blushing lightly. “But just so you know, I can’t sing.”

“M’sure you can,” Crowley murmured, this time genuinely. “C’mon.”

“Alright.” Aziraphale took a deep breath. “I’ll try. But don’t you dare laugh at me.” He fixed his friend with a stare.

“I promise,” said Crowley, feeling mirth bubbling up in his chest already.

The first sounds Aziraphale made were very unsure, but surprisingly very clean. “’Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, and young affection gapes to be his heir; that fair for which love groan’d for and would die, with tender Juliet match’d, is now not fair’,” he sang in a low voice, to a melody he made along the way. It wasn’t perfect, of course, his singing, but there was something captivating in it, nonetheless.

Crowley stared at him charmed. All the mirth has vanished, leaving just pure adoration within him. Then he couldn’t help but smile softly at his friend.

Aziraphale glanced at him, clearly distracted. “Why are you grinning like that? You promised not to laugh.”

“I’m not laughing,” Crowley said defensively, “I’m just smiling, ‘cos your voice is pretty.”

Aziraphale blushed for real now. “I know it’s not, don’t tease me.”

“I’m not, I swear.”

“Really?” his friend asked hopefully, reddening a little bit more.

“Yeah.”

The smile that Aziraphale gave Crowley in that moment was truly worth saying every foolish word.

“You can continue.”

Aziraphale just shook his head. “I have no idea why I even indulged you like that in the first place.”

“So no more singing?” Crowley asked, pouting.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Oh, poor, poor me, what will I do now?” he lamented. “But at least do the voices, when we’ll get to the dialogue.”

This time Aziraphale provided him a death glare, which successfully shut him up.  

When they got the first scene, Crowley was already dozing off a bit. Whatever conversation were Benvolio and Mercutio having was not compelling to him, the main treat of this situation was really just listening to Aziraphale’s soft voice, which was truly something. After a minute Crowley let himself relax more, settling him head on his friend’s shoulder, and his knees on his lap. Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind at all, as he adjusted himself just so Crowley could be more comfortable. Were they cuddling? Crowley briefly wondered. If they were, he found himself enjoying it.

“‘Go, then; for ’tis in vain to seek him here that means not to be found.’ Exeunt. Anddd scene two,” Aziraphale announced. “Enter Romeo. ‘He jests at scars that never felt a wound.’ Juliet appears above at a window.”

“Finally!” cried Crowley. “We have the iconic duo.”

Aziraphale made a bemused face. “’Iconic duo’? That’s not what I’ll call them, but alright.”

The drama proceeded further with a long monologue of Romeo gushing over Juliet’s charms, without a stop with his comparisons to the sun and whatnot.

“How long will it take him to stop raving like that? It’s getting exhausting!”

“He simply thinks Juliet is beautiful. I think that’s fairly romantic.”

Crowley thought that we wouldn’t know if she was, since he didn’t know her. But it crossed his mind that he knew someone who was truly beautiful. He glanced at his friend, engrossed in book, trying to fill every word of the drama with the corresponding feeling, his bright eyes covered with a slight frown. And wasn’t he beautiful? That was just stating facts of course and had nothing to do with anything romantic. As Aziraphale’s friend Crowley could just appreciate that sort of beauty.

“Juliet. ‘Ay me!’ Romeo. ‘She speaks: O, speak again, bright angel!’”

Angel. Crowley liked that word. It was so gentle and sweet, truly fitting for someone who was equally as gentle and as sweet.

Someone like Aziraphale.

All his thoughts mixed together making a conclusion that Crowley couldn’t ignore. A conclusion that at the moment simply made sense. So he sat up at once, fixing his posture, and cleared his throat uncertainly. “’Ziraphale?”

“Hmm?” Aziraphale looked at him curiously, putting his book down, bearing a questioning smile on his face.

Abruptly Crowley felt his heartbeat quickening. “I just thought, that well- that, uhh- just like Romeo called Juliet, you kind of are like an angel.”

Aziraphale stared at him in surprise. “Oh?” Immediately, Crowley regretted ever opening his mouth. “What- what makes you say that?”

“You know, it’s ‘cos you’re… ‘cos you’re pretty… and- and kind, and sweet, and you know, all of those angelic attributes.” He flapped his hands nervously in an attempt to somehow explain what he meant. “Honestly, you deserve that title more than Juliet, I-I think.”

Aziraphale just gaped at him with owlishly wide eyes.

“That- uhhh- was just a thought.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened even more. “Is that what you really think?”

Crowley turned his gaze away. “Yes?” he answered haltingly, his face white hot. He still contemplated why did he ever think that uttering any of those words out loud was a good idea. “I suppose I do.”

“Right.”

That exchange only resulted in both of them staring at opposite sides of the room, blushing uncontrollably. The uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

“Sorry,” murmured Crowley.

“What? No!” Aziraphale protested tearing lose from his speechlessness. “Don’t apologise! It was a really lovely thing to say.” He was still red in the face but looked desperate to fix the situation.

Crowley bit his lip. “Not weird?”

“No, not weird. I- I liked that.”

“Did you really?”

“I- I-” Aziraphale’s face went a little pale now, his eyes wandering around as if in search for help. “I should probably continue reading, what do you think?” he suggested hastily instead.

Crowley was taken aback by the lack of the response to his question but didn’t dare to bring it up. “F’course,” he replied weakly.

Aziraphale nodded, seeming relieved in the change of the topic. “Right, uhm, where was I?”

“Here.” Crowley pointed.

“Thank you.” Aziraphale glanced in his direction, an awfully weak smile gracing his features for a moment, but then his gaze shyly darted away to the pages of his book again, leaving Crowley with the consequences of his own actions.

This time Crowley didn’t rest his head anywhere near his friend, even though he really wanted to.

Aziraphale tried to put out a word, but as soon as he began, his voice started to break. Every word and sentence was now hesitant and shaky, graced with nervous glances. Aziraphale stopped. “I think it’s getting late,” he breathed out. “We’re probably both tired. Aren’t you?” he asked.

Crowley immediately caught up with what was happening, he was the reason why Aziraphale was so flustered. “Yes, you’re right. Mhm, absolutely.” He jumped up from the bed. “I should go to my bed now.”

Aziraphale nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes. It’s late,” he repeated.

They looked at each other for a few more seconds, before Crowley didn’t scoot in into his own bed and tightly wrapped himself with his blanket, feeling like an absolute idiot. He risked a glance behind him, finding Aziraphale. When their eyes met, he abruptly turned back to stare at the wall.

“Good night.” He heard a soft murmur from behind him.

It took him some time, before he answered with his own, very shy and very quiet “Good night… angel.”

Chapter Text

The next morning, neither Crowley nor Aziraphale mentioned any of the angel business. But in hindsight Crowley thought that it wasn’t as dreadful as he’d felt it was yesterday. Maybe Aziraphale was like an angel after all. Maybe he wanted to think of Aziraphale as an angel after all. All pretty, with his curls glowing like a halo on his head. Aziraphale mentioned he liked it, so it couldn’t be that bad. He knew he was not going to voice it anymore, but he had no plans on forgetting it.

The program for the day was already hanging on the wall of one of the halls. The morning began lightly, well not light for all, because not everyone was contented when they learned that the first activity of the day would be a hiking trip. Aziraphale was one of those people and Crowley sympathised with him terribly much. But a little fresh air, along with a good breakfast activated all the energy that was needed for the day. Besides, it would be unwise of them to stay in the resort without leaving, through the entire week. It wasn't all half-bad; they took their path through mostly flat terrain, and took regular breaks, but overall it took them about two and a half hour to get back to their area of their resort.

Then they had a lesson, it was a really pleasant one, about the history of prehistoric art. The woman who came there solely for the purpose of educating them told them about various key creations of the prehistoric artists, such as the paintings in the Chauvet and Lascaux cave, different Venus figurines like the ones from Willendorf, Lespugue, or Hohle Fels and different stone constructions, for instance cromlechs and dolmens. Just after the lesson when the lunch was being served both Crowley and Aziraphale couldn't stop gushing about the enlightening things they got to learn today. Obviously, they knew some of the facts already, but it was still exciting.

After lunch they got draw still life, with couple of objects to choose from as a reference. During that part Mr. Arch didn't omit telling them another one of his ridiculous stories he adored so much. He heard one on the radio apparently, it was about a woman who had been murdered by her husband. It wasn't unusual for him to bring similar stories up, but that one was of those terribly gruesome sort. At some point it was clear how some of the younger kids started to get uncomfortable. Crowley exchange a couple of horrified glances with Aziraphale. Generally no one interrupted their teacher when he was in his story huff, but the situation was getting quite unbearable at this point.

“I’m sorry sir, but can I say something?” Aziraphale disrupted all of a sudden.

Just for that annoyed stare their teacher gave his friend Crowley was already fuming. “Yes Aziraphale?” he asked impatiently.

“Your story is really interesting, sir, but I couldn’t help but notice that it might be a tad too… how do I put it, too intense,” he concluded. “And I simply think that I may be a little bit too much for some of the younger attendees.” Along with Crowley a few people nodded their heads ever so slightly in agreement.

Their teacher seized him with a look. “It’s not up to you to decide what people feel comfortable with.” He eyed the classroom. “Does anyone else feel bothered?” he asked, but his voice clearly suggested he wouldn’t be pleased to hear anyone answering that question.

“I did.” Crowley stood up, feeling anger boiling in him like in a kettle, ready to burst out in the form of steam. “And Aziraphale is right.”

“Sit down Anthony, I know you’re only doing this to second your friend, but I’m asking those who aren’t biased.”

Crowley opened his mouth to say something that definitely wouldn’t be considered appropriate to say to an adult, but his arm got stuck in motion and a glance to his side revealed that it was Aziraphale pulling him by his sleeve. He shook his head in a silent protest. Crowley sat down sighing, feeling completely useless.

“Can we go back to the lesson or is there any other problem?” No one said anything this time. “Right.” But before Mr. Arch began talking he glared coldly at Aziraphale. Crowley was nearly set to stand up once again and say or do something he would probably later regret, but Aziraphale’s gentle and reassuring gaze pinned him down in place.

Mr. Arch continued his story ignoring the whispers of other students who were likewise disturbed by it. Crowley couldn’t at all focus and kept glancing at Aziraphale who was nervously staring at his hands, his drawing forgotten. He wondered whether he should ask if everything was okay but then Aziraphale raised his hand. “Can I go to the toilet?” he asked hurriedly.

“If you must, go.”

Crowley watched as his friend jumped up and disappeared through the door. He was still worried, seeing as Aziraphale’s mood didn’t seem to improve before he left, but let the worries falter for now, expecting that his friend simply needed some time alone.

But Aziraphale didn’t come back, even when the lesson had ended, so Crowley took the matter in his own hands and ran to the bathroom down the corridor.

When he entered, he was met with silence, but one of the stalls was quite visibly closed.

“Is anyone here?” he asked the room. “Aziraphale?”

At first no one answered him, but a second later he heard as the lock of the locked stall clicked and then the door slowly revealed Aziraphale seating on a closed toilet, hugging his knees to his chest. “Crowley? What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you.”

“Oh?”

“You were here for so long, is everything alright?”

Aziraphale breathed out warily, then stood up. “Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be? I just needed a… second.”

Crowley frowned. “You were here for over half an hour.”

“Right, I was.” Aziraphale lowered his head and sighed, resigned.

“So is everything alright?”

“No, you’re right, it isn’t.”

“It’s about the thing that our teacher said, isn’t it? ”

At first Aziraphale didn’t look at him, but then he nodded cautiously. “Something like that.”

Crowley tried to be careful when he approached his friend and reached for his hand. “Do you need a hug?” he asked. Crowley never felt like he was good at comforting, never knew what question to ask or what thing to say, but he was on a mission and that mission was to comfort his friend and so he did his best.

Aziraphale nodded again.

Crowley didn’t hesitate when he opened his arms and let Aziraphale slip in between them. His friend buried his head in his neck and gave a soft whimper. “Oh, Crowley, I really messed up.”

“No, you didn’t,” Crowley tried, rubbing Aziraphale’s back with his hand. “He was being an idiot, and you just called him out on that.”

“I shouldn’t have gone against to a teacher,” Aziraphale murmured, appalled. “I should’ve known better.”

“Well, I thought it was really brave.”

Aziraphale huddled closer. “It’s really sweet of you to say that, but I can’t agree.”

Crowley squeezed his friend, feeling disarmingly sad. He couldn’t stand seeing Aziraphale in such state, blaming himself for something he was obviously not guilty of. Their teacher wasn’t an idiot, he was more than that, but fearing that he might accidentally upset Aziraphale again, Crowley didn’t use some of the strong words he would describe this man with.

Once again his lack of consoling ability failed him, so he opted for trying to change the topic, something that could help his friend take his mind of the upsetting matter. “I heard they’re serving crème brulé today,” he muttered.

That got him a reaction. Aziraphale pulled back, revealing his wide and hopeful eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Crowley said and smiled. “We should go probably though, before someone steals our portions.”

“I don’t think that’s allowed, my dear.” Aziraphale glanced at his watch. “Besides they only start serving the dinner in five minutes.”

“Uh, yes, maybe, but we can be there first.”

A huff that Aziraphale let out was definitely amused, Crowley noted with satisfaction. “You never fail to cheer me up,” he remarked beaming. “Thank you, for everything, for backing me up, for worrying about me, and for the hug. It really helped.”

“That’s what best friends are for, I presume.”

“Thank you for being my best friend then.” Then he took a second to think. “You truly are the sweetest person I know.”

“Oh, stop it.” Crowley flushed. “M’not sweet.”

“You certainly are, my dear.” Aziraphale threw him a half genuine half cheeky grin.

Crowley ignored both the comments and the warm feeling inside him, brightening at the notice of Aziraphale regaining some more of his playfulness.

“I’m ready to go,” his friend decided at last.

The hug helped, so obviously touch had something to do with comfort for Aziraphale, Crowley duelled on it for a bit before he suggested, “I could hold your hand, if it helps.” A stroke of his fingers when he slipped them down Aziraphale’s arm reaching his palm. “For some time, I mean.”

Aziraphale stared at him for a second, looking unsure. “If you wish to. You may not want to do it in front of other people, though,” he murmured sheepishly.

Crowley frowned. For a moment there, he wondered what on earth would be wrong with holding Aziraphale’s hand in front of others.  

Then it hit him.

Someone might as well assume they were together.

That for some reason was a revelation he never even saw coming.

How did he associate asking for a phone number with romance, and didn’t put two and two together that cuddling, and holding someone’s hand could be read as romantic?

Of course, it didn’t have to be, those could be purely friendly gestures, but people assumed, and anyway Crowley was far from innocent too, for as soon as he picked up that implication he couldn’t get it out of his head.

But that wasn’t what actually made him stand still in shock and feel as his knees buckled. It was the fact that he realised that he wouldn’t mind. That he actually wanted people to assume that. That something about being with Aziraphale would be thrilling. He stared at their joined hands in horror and felt as his heart almost fell out of his chest.

Oh

Oh no

He had a crush.

A desperate, hopeless crush on his best friend.

A crush he nurtured for four years now, deeply rooted somewhere inside of his heart, and inhabiting a big chunk of it. And maybe, just maybe, at this point it was something even stronger than a crush.

Crowley actually couldn’t speak for a minute or so. Couldn’t utter a single word. Stuck in those feelings, he had never foreseen, petrified.

What awakened him from this daze was Aziraphale squeezing his hand, staring at him curiously. “Are we going?”

“Yesyesyesyesyes,” he replied and so rapidly pulled his friend to the exit, that Aziraphale had to seriously pick up on speed.

“I didn’t know we were in such hurry.”

“Uh, we aren’t.” Crowley slowed down. A shiver went down his spine when he noticed that Aziraphale was steadily stroking the back of his hand with his thumb, looking at him calmly.

“You look so nervous, my dear,” he murmured.

Crowley hastily found Aziraphale’s eyes, locking his gaze with him abashedly. “Am not.”

“And now you’re blushing,” his friend noted. “I so like it when you blush.”

That comment caused Crowley to, well, blush even more. “Oh.”

“The shade of red your face always turns to, is so lovely, that you look rather adorable,” Aziraphale explained. “Contrasting with the cool façade that you so often choose wear.”

Not only had Crowley just figured out he was terribly smitten with his friend, but Aziraphale was also providing him more reasons to make him fall harder, if that was even possible. Fantastic, he might as well melt into a puddle right now. “I never look ‘adorable’,” he muttered under his breath.

Aziraphale chuckled. “What if I think so?”

“Then that’s your opinion, which is obviously wrong.”

“Then what if I said that you look handsome? What would you say about that?”

A wave of heat flooded Crowley’s cheeks. “You’re doing this on purpose, you bastard.”

“Is it really so embarrassing to get a compliment from a friend?”

“Ngk, not embarrassing, just…” Just Crowley liked Aziraphale so much, that if those things he’d said were his actual thoughts, he was eventually going to faint. “…nhhh.” Currently, his whole face was burning. “What hour is it?” he asked hoping to change the topic.

Aziraphale took a look at the watch. “Oh, goodness, it’s two past eight already! I didn’t even notice how the time passed,” he exclaimed. “Now we are in a hurry!” He gave one panicked look and before Crowley had realised he was being dragged towards the canteen.

~*~

Crowley gave his ration of crème brulé to Aziraphale. What else he was to do? He couldn’t help himself. Everything to see that sparkle, and that smile. Besides his friend certainly deserved it after what he had to endure today.

He looked as Aziraphale made soft hums to his portion of crème brulé. He was practically glowing with happiness.

And it all made sense now, Crowley realised. Him falling for Aziraphale made sense. Because how could he not? How could resist someone so full of charm, and sweetness, someone who understood him so well.

All the other pieces quickly fell into place.

The only thing that didn’t add up was him not noticing that he had a crush. How stupid could he be? How oblivious? All that blushing, shyness, admiration of everything that Aziraphale did, and to top it all of the whole angel affair, it was all so incredibly obvious.

Aziraphale made another happy noise, and Crowley couldn’t help but stare like an absolute idiot. But in actuality it was more than nice to be a fool for someone so so lovely. He had been for so long without noticing and it never struck him as unpleasant. He could be fool for the most wonderous being on this planet and never stop.

~*~

They went back to their room after the dinner, and without a moment of hesitation Crowley followed his friend when he pulled him to sit together to his bed.

“Are you feeling better now?” he asked softly, when a look of consternation appeared on Aziraphale’s face.

“Right, umm- simply tickety-boo, my dear.”

“Tickety-boo? What does that even mean?”

Aziraphale sighed. “It means that I’m fine.”

“I was just checking, because you know…” Crowley examined his friend, who refused to look at him.

“Crowley, really, I’m okay, can we stop talking about that?”

“Yes, of course, if you want me to.” He managed a second in silence before he huffed, “He had no right to treat you like that. You didn’t deserve it, you simply voiced your opinion, which was right by the way.”

Aziraphale’s eyes wandered to his nervously wringing hands. “You’re taking this really seriously.”

“Because this is serious, and that bastard seriously upset you!”

A frown appeared on his friend’s face. “Don’t call our teacher a bastard, it’s really rude.”

Crowley sighed in resignation. “Sorry,” he muttered. “But not to him, to you.”

“Oh, Crowley can we please change the topic?”

“Okay. But not because he is guiltless, but because you asked me to.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “You stubborn creature.”

“What about do you want talk, then?”

“For example, how did you enjoy today?” Aziraphale suggested, and then quickly added, “Except for the last affair of course.”

Crowley really didn’t want to let go off his previous line of thoughts, but at the same time his friend was terribly insistent on him doing so, therefore it was better abandoned, simply for Aziraphale’s sake. “It was nice. I liked the art history lessons, but you know that already.”

“I do, but wasn’t it simply marvellous?”

Crowley had to agree with that. “Yeah, but it’s such a shame the caves she mentioned are no longer open for the public eye.”

“Agreed. But we wouldn’t want the paintings to fade, wouldn’t we?”

Crowley huddled nearer his friend, finally letting himself relax, maybe it was for the better that they changed the topic. “Definitely not, that would be a crime.”

Aziraphale nodded solemnly. “Anything else that you liked?”

You for some reason suggested Crowley’s brain, but fortunately he didn’t say that out loud, instead he chosen a quick way out, so mentioning the first thing that came to his mind after that. “The dinner, I guess.” It was, of course, only a coincidence that the best part of today’s dinner was staring at his friend being happy.

“Oh, yes,” marvelled Aziraphale. “Today’s crème brulé was simply delightful!”

Crowley grinned lazily, basking in his friend’s light. Yeah, he could definitely get used to this.

“My mum makes fantastic crème brulé. You should come over one day to try it.”

Aziraphale eyes glowed. “That would be wonderful!” he exclaimed, then his cheeks reddened a little bit. “We could perhaps make that arrangement; to meet up after the trip.” Aziraphale was blushing, Crowley was too. Just like yesterday. But this time at least one of them, to Crowley’s knowledge, was aware of what that really meant, and why was that happening. He smoothed down the blanket of Aziraphale’s bed, absentmindedly following his hand with his gaze while he did so.

“We never did that before,” Crowley said. And they also never talked about never doing this before.

“True,” Aziraphale admitted, then his face turned into something almost sad. “I really can’t believe how long we managed without it. I can’t believe how long I managed without it, seeing as you are my favourite person.”

“I am?” A feather light breeze that could stop any word from coming out, that was shyness gripping Crowley’s throat once more.

Aziraphale brought himself just within his reach, his eyes full of something that was too complex to decipher. Then he bit his lip and got even closer. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale leaned just so that the warm puffs of his breath were reaching Crowley’s ear, just like one would tell a secret, despite it being only two of them in the room. “Fridays are my favourite days just because I get so see you,” he whispered. “As soon as we part I miss you, and after that I think of you every single day.”

Crowley turned his gaze to Aziraphale. Their eyes locked, and his heart skipped a beat. He was no Shakespeare, not so good with poetic metaphors, but he knew an angel when he saw one, Aziraphale was positively glowing, his eyes were pinning Crowley in place. “Oh,” he breathed out. “Is that so?” He tried to ignore the feeling that pushed him forward, that made him want to reach out his hand, to touch Aziraphale’s face, brush that lonely curl behind his ear.

“Naturally,” Aziraphale murmured. He looked so confident in his words, as if it was the easiest thing to say.

Crowley couldn’t stop looking at him, couldn’t make his heartbeat slowdown for just a bit. “I can tell you a secret too.” His hand which was still pressed to the surface of the bed, now went right were Aziraphale’s hand was rested and brushed his fingers shyly. Aziraphale stared at their hands, his cheeks regaining some warm colours.

Crowley leaned close, in the same manner that Aziraphale did, he was so sure, yet so scared about what he was about to say, begging it wouldn’t turn out to be a mistake. He had those words in his head all afternoon, screaming to be said out loud. “I like you.”

Aziraphale sat up. And then blinked. “You- you do?” he asked, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Mhm.” Blood rushed into Crowley’s cheeks. Did Aziraphale even understand what he meant?

“Could you- ehm, elaborate?” So no, he didn’t.

“Uhh- I mean I like-like you,” he managed, trying extremely hard to not call off the whole conversation at once.

A face of fierce bewilderment was all he got as a response.

If Crowley had started it he had to bring it to an end. The only way out was to covey it more directly, no matter how terrifying it seemed, no matter how much his voice of reason screamed that it was a stupid idea after all. “I have a crush on you,” he let out and didn’t allow himself shy away. He didn’t mean for it to come out so blunt, yet it didn’t have any substance now that Aziraphale was looking at him like that; he was staring, his mouth slightly agape and quivering.

“A crush,” he mused, maybe dreamily, Crowley wasn’t sure. “You, you really do. Oh, Crowley.”

This was a good sign, right? It seemed to be. If anything Aziraphale appeared pleased. “I do, yeah,” he said trying to hold his excitement at bay. He didn’t know if his words were truly so well received as it seemed, but in the end the fact that he managed to say that sentence out loud was enough for him to feel some sort of pride. “I didn’t know how to tell you, so it might’ve came out wrong at first.”

Aziraphale’s hand found Crowley’s and squeezed it. “I didn’t mean to act dense; I do know what people mean by saying they like someone,” he assured, then his eyes wandered away, his breath becoming a little trembling. “I simply was too afraid to assume you really felt the same way that I do.”

Crowley jolted. “The same way,” he repeated, hoping he didn’t mishear or misinterpret Aziraphale’s words. His heart was pounding like mad, he was praying that this was true, that this angel actually liked him back, because if he did, Crowley might be the luckiest person in the universe right now.

“I- I’ve liked you for so long.” A pretty blush was blooming on Aziraphale’s face. “You have no idea how much.”

Crowley let himself close his eyes for a moment, to bask in the bliss, in that momentary happiness. Aziraphale’s hand was still on his, and he felt his eyes on him too. Aziraphale was here and Aziraphale liked him, really, truly did. Crowley wanted to throw himself at him, to get lost in his touch, his adoration, but at last he opened his eyes and with a gentle smile he didn’t even know he could make, he murmured, “I might have some experience, though.”

An expression so sweet, it melted Crowley’s heart, showed up on Aziraphale’s face. “My-my… dearest.”

God, did that angel have any idea what those words caused in Crowley’s chest?

“Do you think that we could try being, you know, something a little else than friends?” he suggested shyly.

At that some panic flashed on Aziraphale’s face. “That’s… a lot.” He appeared a tad more nervous now. “I don’t know, I’ve never tried that before, but, oh Crowley I want you so much…”

“But maybe we could at least try?”

“I would like that, I think.”

Crowley couldn’t believe that that angel came to like him. The most beautiful creature he knew, and his best friend.

Aziraphale was now staring at him with a certain glim of concentration. “Why are you looking at me like this?” he asked.

“Like what?”

“Like you want to- like you want to-,” he stumbled. “I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

Crowley needed just a second to think, before he knew. “I want to kiss you.”

Aziraphale’s eyes went wider than the full moon. “I’ve never kissed anyone,” he whispered.

“It’s okay, me neither.”

“You can try if you want,” Aziraphale uttered hastily.

Crowley felt as his heart pounded against his chest, but he didn’t dare to make a move. “Not if I want Aziraphale, not if I want. I proposed it first, so the only question is if you want.”

His friend’s face grew paler. “I said you can try,” he said, before adding much more hurriedly, “I want you to try.”

That was the sign that Crowley needed. It didn’t mean though that it made everything easier.

He reached for Aziraphale’s cheek, cupping it as gently as he only could, Aziraphale shut his eyes closed. Crowley got just a little bit closer, then closer, then as his lips were brushing against Aziraphale’s he felt a shiver go down his spine. “Whatever you wish for, angel,” he breathed, and then he kissed him.

Just a chaste, simple press of lips, that was all it had been, yet never had he felt so overwhelmed with feelings as he did now.

And he was kissing an angel.

That was his only distinctive thought before he didn’t break the kiss. It lasted only three seconds maybe, maybe even less. But it was enough to make his heart nearly fall out of his chest.

He opened his eyes, feeling an odd kind of euphory, and he couldn’t help but bask in it. “Aziraphale,” he murmured. Then suddenly felt as he lost all the contact they had via touch.

Aziraphale drew back.

He wasn’t looking at him, Crowley realised with panic. Aziraphale was clutching his blanket, with something on his face that closely resembled horror. “This was a mistake,” he whispered.

Everything stopped, a moment for comprehension. A wave of crushing dismay washed over Crowley; the ground slipped out from under his feet. So that was it, a mistake, an error. Obviously, it was. Obviously. Another consequence to another one of his misjudgements, because he couldn’t stop, he had to rush into things, couldn’t think anything through. “A- a mistake?”

Aziraphale stared pointedly at his hands. “Not yours. I just- I just shouldn’t have agreed.” He inhaled, still with dread. “It was too much,” he let out, finally looking up at Crowley. “I’m sorry, but I can’t try being more with you, I thought I could, but I’m not ready.”

“Oh.”

“You’re simply- you… you go to fast for me Crowley.”

Those words finished him off. “I- I see.” His eyes were supposed to stay dry. Why weren’t they dry? “I mean- it’s okay, you don’t have to. It’s okay,” he repeated in a trance. “It’s okay.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, now in complete horror. “Please don’t cry, please.”

“I’m not crying.”

“Oh, yes you are.”

Tears were rolling down his cheeks right to his chin, from where they dripped to the ground with a sound of soft splash. He wiped them with his sleeve hurriedly. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s not your fault! We both agreed to this.”

“But I shouldn’t have asked you. I’m so sorry.” After that Crowley burst in tears. And he no longer was able to stop them.

He hated himself. He hated himself for crying. For feeling disappointed. And for being too fast. He buried his face in his arms, everything to prevent Aziraphale seeing from him, to hide and never be found.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale blurted. “Crowley, please look at me.”

He did, only a glimpse.

Aziraphale was crying too, awful how those chain reactions worked.

“We are still going to be friends, you know that, right?”

Crowley dried his face once again. “I’d like to be.” He sniffed. “But I don’t know if it’s going to work out.”

“Why would you say that?” Aziraphale’s eyes filled with more tears. “Why wouldn’t it?” He reached his hand to Crowley’s, but then quickly and awkwardly abandoned the movement.

Crowley stared at the action pointedly. “That’s why.”

Aziraphale gazed to the side, gulping. “It can’t end like that, we can’t let it end like that,” he uttered desperately.

“We can try, but I don’t know…”

Their gazes locked. By now Crowley was hugging his knees to himself, his chin rested on them, still silently crying. Aziraphale was seating on the other side, crying too. How fast could a situation change its course? Just five minutes ago everything was fine, even better than fine. So much bliss cut down with few words, and a hope that turned out to be foolish.

At last Crowley stood up, his cheeks wet with tears and his heart aching. “I’m going to sleep,” he announced blankly. He went to bed, not daring to spare a glance at Aziraphale. He knew if he would, he would tear up again.

In truth he had lied. He didn’t sleep that night at all.

~*~

Crowley was right. It didn’t work out.

Not because they didn’t try, but because it naturally couldn’t. Their friendship was a tremendously close one, casual touches like hand holding, arms brushing together, or hugging used to be of daily occurrence for them. That disappeared altogether. Every accidental stroke of hand was now followed with panicked looks and awkward apologies. Crowley avoided any physical contact with Aziraphale because he felt guilty, and Aziraphale did so probably because he didn’t want to give him any false signs. That was only one of the elements of their friendship that were erased.

Crowley only now got self-conscious about how much they used to pay little compliment to each other on everyday basis, for only now he experienced the lack of them. Same as with physical affections they unsurprisingly were no more.

Those five day, so the majority of their stay, was hell. Crowley’s heart was gradually shattered into more and more pieces every time he had to make polite small talk with his dearest friend. It had never been like that between them, they had never been truly polite around each other, they had never been careful with words around each other. But it only could end that way, because nowadays Crowley could barely utter a single word that wouldn’t be him begging Aziraphale to give him another chance. This time Crowley would do it right, wouldn’t go too fast, wouldn’t ask Aziraphale to kiss him a minute after they confessed their feelings to one another. But all that musing was no use, because he wouldn’t do it, nonetheless, wouldn’t beg Aziraphale for anything. He knew that the only way to go through the situation was to be Aziraphale’s friend or to be nothing with him at all, no other options.

Time passed and nothing changed, and then the trip was over. And their only goodbye were sad smiles exchanged in the parking lot where their coach arrived.

Crowley didn’t understand how all that worked. Was he just being dramatic? Or were they just not able to properly navigate the situation? How the most precious relationship of his life got demolished so easily? Maybe they simply were too good of friends for it not to affect them.

The rest of the holiday was a blur. Crowley refused to speak with anyone, who asked him why was he spending his entire days in his room. After their tenth attempt his parents stopped trying to get him to answer what had happened. He was a miserable mess, who only now went through his first heartbreak and had no idea how to deal with it.

He started reading on everything that could aid him in that situation. He even found some old magazines that his mother stored and read through all the article that tackled the topic. A good amount of advice was shared, but one stood out most of the times; if Crowley wanted to properly move on he had no choice but to cut any contact he had with the object of his affection from his life. Maybe it was dramatic, just maybe, but also it seemed reasonable, it could spare him the heart ache and Aziraphale the awkwardness of being friends with someone who was head over heels with him. It was bound to hurt at first, Crowley would surely miss Aziraphale dreadfully, but in the grand scheme of things it would eventually completely erase the problem. And Crowley was good at that, at erasing problems by running away from them.

So a week before the school year was to begin once again, he headed to his parents and told them that this year he didn’t want to take part in any additional classes.

Chapter Text

10 years later

“Anthony, you’re still here?” asked a soft voice from behind Crowley. He was just about to take off his work uniform and leave, but now he turned to see Mrs. Shirley standing near the counter.

“Yeah,” he replied grimacing. “Literally two minutes before the closing hour a customer came in demanding service.” Crowley sighed. “And I couldn’t deny.”

A smile of leniency showed up on her face. “Oh, you sweet thing.”

“Mrs. Shirley, how many times do I have to tell you that I’m not a ‘sweet thing’?” Crowley said shaking his head.

“Not enough, dear,” she replied and laughed.

He shook his head again and then put on his jacket. “Well, to be entirely frank I wish I could’ve left earlier.”

“I don’t blame you.”

Crowley grabbed the doorknob. “It was nice day, but I’ll be off.”

Mrs. Shirley smiled one last time, before Crowley didn’t find himself in the exit. “See you on Monday, Anthony,” she called after him.

“Likewise! And please say hi to Mr. Shirley from me.” Crowley saw a vague nod and only then he left.

Mrs. and Mr. Shirley were the elderly couple who run and lived over the plant shop Crowley was employed in. They were the kindest and the most generous people Crowley had the pleasure to work for, and he sincerely hoped he’d get to do just that for foreseeable future. Alas, more and more times he heard as Mrs. Shirley had suggested closing the establishment and moving to the country, and Mr. Shirley always nodded thoughtfully. The perspective of needing to find himself a new job, and hopefully one in which the employers were as considerate as his current ones, terrified him sorely. He liked the shop, and liked its owners and he was pretty convinced they liked him too, so really it was a perfect position to be in, one he wouldn’t bear to lose.

Crowley strolled down the street, eager to throw himself at a sofa and eat that leftover pasta he had from yesterday. It was Sunday afternoon and so he deserved a bit of leisure after an entire week worth of work.

When he got to the front door of his apartment, he fumbled out his keys only to realise the door were already open. Anathema came early. He briefly ignored that fact, and as soon as he entered he found his beloved sofa. Then he just rested, hoping he was going to get exactly that for another hour or more. Unfortunately soon he heard footsteps and then a certain character was next to him.

“Crowley, you promised to help me,” said Anathema standing over him with a judging look.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied lazily. Crowley was currently sprawled on his favourite sofa, and very unenthusiastic about leaving. “Can’t Newt help?”

Anathema shook her head unamused. “I told you he can’t.”

“Nhhh. I just got from work.”

“Crowley!” She was relentless. “You promised, and this is the only time we can do this.”

Crowley sighed and lingered for a few more seconds. “Let’s go then,” he muttered eventually and got to his feet reluctantly.

“It will take us like half an hour, don’t be dramatic.”

“Do you see me being dramatic? Just complaining.”

“I can see that.”

“I just like complaining, can you blame me?”

“Yes,” she replied sourly.

A friend of Anathema’s had a bedside table to give away, the only requirement was for the one taking it to transport it themselves. And Anathema terribly wanted that bedside table and apparently it was far too heavy for one person to carry, and also said friend was very often out of town and so rarely there was time to meet up with them. Just a very inconvenient situation, really. Unfortunately or fortunately, it depended on who you asked, Anathema had a flatmate who she apparently thought would be perfect for the job. That’s how she recruited Crowley.  

“It’s not that far away,” commented Anathema when they left the flat. She glanced at the map on her phone and pointed to her right. “That way. It says we’ll get there in ten minutes.”

“That means we will have to carry a heavy piece of furniture through the streets of London for ten minutes!” Crowley lamented, wondering if asking a random person on the street to replace him would be a good idea.

Anathema rolled her eyes. “Dramatic again.”

“Pfff. You tell me why can’t we just call a cab?”

“Because it would be a waste of money, when we’re both perfectly capable of taking the bedside table ourselves.”

Crowley only shook his head disapprovingly.

But in the end it was like Anathema said, in seven minutes they were already on the street which hid the flat of her friend. Crowley’s mood improved ever so slightly when he recognised the place.

“Wait. We were here a few month ago, right?” he asked.

Anathema nodded. “I do recall.”

“We visited the place with the- the good Italian food somewhere here, eh? Isn’t that…?” Crowley pointed across the street. “Isn’t it that one?”

“That’s right!” she brightened. “The best calzone I’ve ever ate! They were so generous with the ingredients.”

Crowley grinned, still peering at the restaurant. “So generous in fact that half of the stuffing fell on your plate.”

Anathema laughed. “That was there! Now I remember.”

“Yeah, and you were soooo dramatic abou-” Crowley felt as he collided with someone, then he heard a crash. His eyes wandered to source of the noise immediately. There were about seven books lying on pavement, scattered in different direction. “I’m so sorry,” he squeaked out, not spearing a glance at the stranger before he jolted right down to collect the books. “I wasn’t looking,” he muttered, while checking if none of the volumes caught any kind of damage. “My bad.”

He stood up with the pile of books in his hands, ready to give them back, before he almost dropped them all anew.

In front of him stood a man about his age, with blond hair, blue eyes, outdated fashion choices and the same shocked look that Crowley sported. “Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale gave him a small wave. “Hello.”

In that very moment the only thing they could do was to stare at each other, the only thing Crowley could do was to lock his eyes with those blue ones, in which he found all those years, that passed since he last saw Aziraphale, imprinted. A stream of memories flooded his mind. His best friend, but one who he had left. One of the most painful and sweetest things his past held in store. But it was true, it was him! Him! Aziraphale! Something bizarrely ecstatic activated in Crowley’s brain. Was that even possible that after all these years they saw each other once more? He couldn’t believe it. What hell was happening right now? A story pulled out straight from his past daydreams, one that was unbelievable.

Crowley let out a disbelieving laugh. “Oh, God, I could never foresee that you- I wasn’t expecting that I’ll ever see you again.”

“Me neither.” Aziraphale smiled nervously. “How long it’s been since we…?”

“A long time.”

Anathema cleared her throat drawing their attention, then raised an eyebrow and pointed at both of them. “You two know each other?”

Crowley grinned. “We used be best friends. Seriously.”

“About ten years ago, but yes,” added Aziraphale.

“Ten years ago? Childhood friends then, eh?”

“Something like that.”

A sly smile showed up on Anathema’s face. “Does that mean you have a lot of gossip on him?” She looked pointedly at Crowley.

Aziraphale’s nervousness increased slightly. “Well, I wouldn’t say-”

“Oh, you must do!” She clapped her hands and rubbed them together dramatically. “I need to hear everything!”

Crowley stopped her. “Ana, seriously. That’s how you introduce yourself to a person you just met? Not even with a name?”

Anathema rolled her eyes. “You’re just scared that he’ll reveal something embarrassing,” she said, but extended her hand anyway. “Anathema.”

Aziraphale took her hand and squeezed it lightly. “A pleasure to meet you. My name’s Aziraphale.”

Crowley studied his old friend carefully; he didn’t change as much as he would imagine, the smile he was bearing, the slight nervousness, and of course he was carrying a stack of books, that really all was so Aziraphale. It was like meeting him all over again, it felt as if they were both still the same people, like nothing changed, only now they were almost indifferent to each other, all the affections gone with time. That thought brought Crowley down to earth. The memory of their parting, it definitely wasn’t pleasant, but he made sure over the years that it would no longer affect him like it used to. It might’ve been his first heartbreak, but he was over it for a long time now, and so he simply and genuinely smiled at Aziraphale, because right now it just struck him as meeting a good, old friend after a decade of separation. “I still can’t believe you’re here, really Aziraphale, it’s unbelievable.”

Aziraphale smiled. “I wouldn’t mind catching up with you, whatever you’re up to right now.”

Crowley nodded vigorously. “Yes, that would be fantastic! How about I give you my phone number?” He put the books he was still holding on the nearest bench to free his hands.

“Oh, yes.” Aziraphale seemed more than pleased, he pulled out his phone from his pocket and clicked through his screen. “Here,” he said and handed it to Crowley. “Type your number in.”

Something about giving Aziraphale his contact felt rather revolutionary, not a thing they did before. It all made Crowley a little dizzy, in that positive way. His head had a rush out of all the surprise and excitement. He put his number in and called the contact Crowley ;). Aziraphale’s eyes sparkled when he got the phone back. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“My pleasure.” Crowley grinned. “Won’t keep you anymore, we have a business to attend to too, right Ana?”

“Yes, we do,” she agreed.

Aziraphale seemed to get the point. “Well, it was a lovely surprise to see you.” He beamed. “I hope I’ll see you later.”

“Oh, yes you will. You will definitely.”

Those words made Aziraphale smile brighter. “Good,” he murmured.

“Just remember about your books.”

“Ahh right," Aziraphale squeaked. “I nearly forgot.”

Crowley chuckled. “Not in your style to be forgetting books.”

“Well, I simply got so distracted, that they escaped my mind for a second there.”

“Right. Good that I reminded you of them then.”

Aziraphale picked up his books, glancing back at Crowley. “Yes, very good, it’s very good that you’re here.”

They started at each other for a moment, something peculiarly familiar brewing in Crowley’s chest, he swiftly waved the feeling away. “Technically if I wasn’t here you wouldn’t drop your books and so I wouldn’t have to remind you.”

Aziraphale chuckled, already a step in his chosen direction. “I’m sure you know I wasn’t just talking about my collection of literature here, there are other reasons I’m glad you’re here.”

“I see.”

Crowley followed Aziraphale with his gaze as the latter finally went his way, when he lost him from his sight he turned to Anathema. “This literally made my week,” he breathed out. “Seriously Ana, I’m so happy right now. So, so happy.” He rocked on his heels excitedly, not minding how silly it felt.

“Wow, I can see that.”

“That actually was Aziraphale. Goodness.”

Then Anathema gave Crowley a look. “What’s up with that guy, anyway?” she asked.

Crowley frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the way you looked at him.”

“The way I… what? I looked at him the way someone would look at a friend whom they didn’t see for a long time, that’s how I looked.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me; I can see that.”

“Because you know me so well, don’t you?” Crowley countered sarcastically.

“Well, we are friends for almost five years now, aren’t we?”

“That doesn’t mean you know when there is something I’m not telling you.”

“But there is, so spit it out already!”

Crowley seized her with a look of annoyance. “I won’t.”  

“I know you will tell me eventually,” Anathema said smugly.

“I doubt it.”

“I don’t.”

“Just let’s get you that bloody bedside table.”

~*~

Crowley broke down eventually. Actually it was the same evening, but who could have blame him. He held that memory untold for ten years now, there was, deep inside of him, a certain need to finally tell someone. “He was my first kiss,” he said, pointedly staring at his hands.

Anathema looked up from her phone. “Oh. You mean Az- uh- Azifa… That guy we met today?”

“It’s Aziraphale,” Crowley said bitterly, but then he sighed resigned. “Yeah, him.”

“So not just best friends?”

“No, not just best friends,” Crowley murmured, leaning his head against a wall. “For about five minutes we were best friends who knew very clearly and well that they both felt something for each other, then after that… it all went to hell.”

Anathema put her phone down, now her whole attention at Crowley’s disposal. “Ouch, that sounds like it hurt.”

Crowley cringed. “It did, rather.”

“What happened?”

“Well… I went too fast,” he muttered under his breath. “And made a couple of stupid decisions.”

“Ahh.”

“So… yeah, here’s that something you wanted me to ‘spit out’.”

Anathema got closer to him and placed a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know it was all connotated with something bitter.” She appeared worried now, and Crowley definitely didn’t want her to be worried about some ridiculous situation he got himself into when he was a teen.

“Nahh.” He waved her away. “Don’t worry. That was ten years ago. M’simply reminiscing.”

She drew back, but her eyes still were filled with consternation. “Alright, if you say so.”

As much as Crowley had a certain need to vent rooted in him, belabouring the point wasn’t going to do any good in his case. Besides, he would rather welcome the sudden reappearance of Aziraphale in his life, than associate it with those frustrating memories. Aziraphale was more than his first kiss and first heartbreak. Aziraphale was his friend.

“I’m really glad I saw him today,” he murmured eventually. “Really, really glad.”

Anathema nodded thoughtfully. “So, will you try over?”

“The friendship? Yes.”

“No asking out?”

Crowley made a face at her. “The hell? What do you mean ‘no asking out’? Of course, I’m not asking him out!”

“Okay, okay.”

“He literally told me he wanted to be friends, back then. I am not falling for him again,” he huffed out with exasperation.

“Alright. I get it. Although…”

“Although what?” Crowley was not liking the path this conversation was taking, one bit.

“Although,” Anathema started, carefully choosing her words. “I don’t think that telling yourself that you can’t fall for someone is actually gonna work. Forcing yourself to not do something often makes you want it more.”

He glared at her dangerously.

“But you know, I’m not saying you will fall for him, only that you may.”

Crowley stood up now, anger burning his face. “I am not having this conversation.”

“Okay, sorry, that might’ve been a stupid thing to say,” Anathema mumbled apologetically.

“It rather was,” he grinded out. “What feelings I have for whom is my business only.”

~*~

On Thursday Crowley got a message.

Hello Crowley! Are you free this Friday evening? - Aziraphale

Crowley nearly forgot it happened, it was so abstract, that he actually had seen Aziraphale after all these years, and he had just a few days ago. He was pretty convinced that it had been all merely a dream, until he hadn’t gotten that message of course.

He replied as quickly as he could assuring that “yes, he was free on this Friday’s evening” and that “yes, the café Aziraphale chose for the meeting was perfect”.

He grinned at the phone as he wrote his replies wondering what will come out of all of this. He was excited, that was exciting to be having an opportunity at renewing something he’d thought he’d lost so long ago. The possibility hadn’t even occurred to him through all those years, that he may ever see Aziraphale again. And yet it happened so he was obligated to try his best at rebuilding that friendship he never even dared to dream of having back. That’s what he vowed to himself.

~*~

Crowley was nervous. His leg bouncing, his hand every now and then tapping on the screen of his phone to check if perhaps there was no messages that he had missed. He didn’t even know what made him so anxious. Possibly it was because it was years ago when he properly talked with Aziraphale, and also maybe because the last time they saw each other it wasn’t all so sweet and easy. But Aziraphale seemed to be taking no notice of their past, and Crowley hoped they could start everything anew, that being friends was very much an option.

He was in the café earlier than planned, precisely a half an hour earlier. It was good that it happened that Aziraphale was equally anxious or simply excited, as he came twenty minutes earlier before the determinated hour. When they spotted each other they burst out laughing.

“I thought I was going to have to wait for the next thirty minutes, ‘cos I’m an idiot, but would you look at that,” Crowley said as a greeting, and smirked, amused.

“Oh, well.” Aziraphale took the chair before him. “It’s marvellous to see you.”

Crowley nodded in agreement. “You will have to tell me everything, I hope you know that.”

Aziraphale smiled. “You won’t avoid it either.”

That earned him a grin. “I bet.” It looked that there was nothing to worry about, Aziraphale too seemed a bit timid, but mostly happy to be seeing Crowley. If they began the conversation with the simplest topics, Crowley was sure he could carry it. There was no need to stress, he was going to be better than fine. He was just about to ask something, something that could possibly be a beginning, a renewal of a shattered friendship, it was rather poetic when he put it like that, but then they got interrupted by the waiter and so that had to be put off. The orders were made in rush, both of them clearly hoping to get to the reason they were here.

When the waiter finally left them, Crowley sighed a sigh of relief, giving Aziraphale a meaningful smile. Both of them were blushing lightly, without a reason really, possibly because they were both nervous and a bit excited, possibly because it situation was so foreign, and yet so familiar. An easy conversation starter that’s what they needed right now. “Soooo,” Crowley drawled. “What’re you up to, nowadays, studying, working?”

Aziraphale’s face gained a bit of a sheepish look. “I work at a museum.” He grunted. “Or at least I begin to work at it. I’m pretty new to the job, actually, but I’m starting to adjust.”

“Gosh!” Crowley’s interest was not simulated. It was not entirely what he expected of Aziraphale - to work at a museum, but nonetheless it was a vision that was somehow incredibly easy to picture. “You probably have an arts degree then, don’t you?”

“Well, yes I do. Fine arts and history of arts degree to be precise.”

“Fine arts, eh? That’s terrific!”

“Right, well.” Aziraphale’s cheeks turned somewhat red. “I suppose I am contented with what I’ve accomplished.”

“Honestly I had no idea you’d continue that path,” Crowley admitted. “Literature was also kind of your thing, wasn’t it?”

Aziraphale nodded in agreement. “I confess I considered it for a while, but in the end my love for art won,” he said. “And I’d rather treat books as just my hobby to be honest.”

“Yeah, that’s valid. And also ‘cos art is so cool,” Crowley mused. “You get to create stuff. Also who doesn’t love history of arts?”

“Yes, exactly, I do adore both of those things.”

Crowley took a moment to think about it. For long now art was just something he’d do from time to time, nothing obligating, and yet his friend, with whom he began this path, still continued, made something out of it. “Do you still draw? Or paint I suppose?”

Aziraphale looked almost outraged at the question. “Obviously I do!” he exclaimed. “I thought we just settled that doing so is cool or whatever word you’ve used.”

That got a chuckle out of Crowley. “Yeah, cool.” He grinned and muttered under his breath, “Such a niche word indeed.”

Aziraphale pointedly ignored the comment. “I made it a bit of mine side hustle to be selling my painting here and there when I get an opportunity,” he admitted. “My friend even helped me set up a website for my works, although I’m not sure about its efficiency.”

“Aww, that’s great! So is everything doing just the way you wanted it?” Crowley asked, because so it seemed, it seemed that Aziraphale’s life was going in just the right direction, and he couldn’t deny those revelations were the ones he had been waiting for.

Aziraphale smiled really nicely then, like he used to when he had been rather proud of something. Crowley had been always pretty fond of that smile. “I suppose it does.” It all was an excellent news to be heard, striking Crowley right in his heart, and he couldn’t help but smile back at his friend, which caused a pause in the conversation during which they simply stared at each other contented. Then Aziraphale broke the silence. “What about you? How is your life going?”

“Plants,” Crowley answered with a smirk.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I specialise in plants. Have a plant degree, work at a florist. Plant stuff.”

Aziraphale shook his head but was clearly amused. “I understand that ‘plant’ degree means a botany one?”

“Yup.”

“Huh, that sounds about right for you.”

“Doesn’t it just? I am a proper plant enthusiast,” Crowley said proudly.

“I do remember that, my dear.”

Crowley didn’t pay any mind to the former when he grasped the two last words. “You still call people ‘my dear’?”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “I do. I hope you’re not implying there’s something wrong with that.”

“Nah, f’course not. Just your language was always so old fashioned, I wondered if that would change about you, but it didn’t.”

“Is that good?”

“If you like it then I don’t see why not,” Crowley replied, and then coughed, feeling his cheeks grow warmer. “And it also was always kind of… adorable, if I’m being honest.”

“Truly what a compliment,” Aziraphale muttered, but the corners of his lips were desperately trying to wander upwards, not to mention the blush on his face.

From then the conversation flowed smoothly, Crowley got to share more of the steps of his path that he’d taken to become the fantastic, amazing, charming person he was today. He found out more about Aziraphale’s job, his friend apparently worked in the museum’s archives, helping with transport of different paintings, and restoration of other exhibits.

In the meantime, they got their orders, and Crowley observed with satisfaction that Aziraphale’s approach to a good meal haven’t changed one bit. He still made a delighted face at a particularly scrumptious piece of cake or hummed softly after a sip of well-brewed tea. It was all so painfully familiar, so close to what Crowley had missed. But it was also sweet to experience, it was as if Crowley was back to being fourteen, got to saw all those little things Aziraphale usually only revealed to his best friend.

The topics switched then, turning to discussing the day they had finally reunited.

“She was really nice, the girl you were with,” Aziraphale said, à propos the subject. “Anathema, was it?”

“Yeah, Anathema,” Crowley confirmed. “But you don’t have to pretend, she can be a little bit too much sometimes.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Oh, not at all, she was lovely. Although she did surprise me with all those suggestions about your ‘embarrassing secrets’ that I’m apparently knowledgeable about.”

“Honestly she might still ask you about them.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yup. I’m sure Ana won’t give it up so easily, might even drag Newt into this as well.”

“Who’s Newt?” Aziraphale asked curiously.

“Right, you don’t know. He’s her boyfriend,” Crowley reflected.

The silence that followed was a surprising one, and then. “So you two are not together?”

“What?” Crowley cried. “Of course not! We’re just flatmates!”

“I see.” Something flickered in Aziraphale’s eyes. Was Crowley imagining it or was it really relief? Only it wouldn’t make any sense, because what was Aziraphale supposed to be relieved about?

“Why would you even think that?”

“I don’t know, it was simply a silly assumption of mine.”

“Well, we’re definitely not together. Very single, me.”

Aziraphale straightened up now, looking as if he was fighting back a smile. “That’s good,” he said, then some panic flashed down his face and he reflected. “I mean, depends how you look at it, obviously, doesn’t have to be good for you.”

“There are perks of being single,” Crowley admitted. “But I don’t mind dating either.” What on earth got Aziraphale behaving this way?

“Right, true, both are nice. I must admit I am single now as well,” Aziraphale said and then flushed deep red. “You probably didn’t need to know that… I mean you didn’t want to know that.”

Crowley squinted, trying to comprehend what his friend had in mind. “Huh?”

“Never mind, please forget that.” Aziraphale looked very embarrassed. “I’m simply a bit of a fool.” He laughed nervously and instead of at Crowley he looked out the window. And Crowley wasn’t sure what that conversation was about anymore, only that Aziraphale was acting rather oddly about it.

Yeah, maybe it was a high time for a cool way out of this topic. It would be for the best if it wasn’t something connected with romance. Definitely for the best.

Crowley shifted, drawing Aziraphale’s attention, who seemed to finally cool off from whatever that was a minute ago. “Soooo, you’re still in the art world…” Crowley said, as if casually. “Who would’ve thought that those silly art classes of ours brought you any good?”

Aziraphale stared at him for a second. Yeah, maybe he still wasn’t cooled off. Then after blinking very slowly, he seemed to grasp what Crowley had said and chuckled weakly. “Yes, quite right. Those lessons weren’t the most helpful in my artistic development. But they did keep my passion for art alive, so I suppose that was a definitive perk of them.”

“For how long did you stay after I…?”

That question somehow shifted the mood, Crowley could feel it in the air. A sense of melancholy filled it, something a tad mournful.

“Not for long,” Aziraphale murmured, his hands suddenly wriggling. Great. So the only thing Crowley managed to do was to change the atmosphere from weird to sad. “There really was no other excuse for me to not opt out of that place… when you weren’t there.”

“Ah.”

“I found a better teacher, better classes. Everything was better.” There was a pause in his words. “Except the company.”

Crowley exhaled.

“I never had a friendship as good as ours was.”

“Aziraphale…”

“I wish we could’ve stayed friends. I wish- I wish you didn’t leave.”

Crowley breathed; his heart crushed with guilt. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so very sorry for leaving.”

A hand caught his and squeezed it. “Don’t apologise,” murmured Aziraphale. “It’s not your fault, it was I who drew you away.”

Crowley shook his head. “No, stop it. You just have boundaries, that’s normal, something made you uncomfortable and you stopped me, you have and always had that right, everyone does. You did not draw me away,” he stated firmly. “I ran away, because I was an idiot.”

“Don’t say that.”

“But I was. I thought that it would be for the best, instead of trying,” Crowley murmured, painfully aware of how true it was. “I should’ve tried harder for our friendship, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale squeezed his hand even more firmly. “You did your best. I never blamed you and I won’t now either.”

“Thank you,” Crowley breathed, his voice breaking.

“Please don’t thank me for that,” Aziraphale said solemnly. “But I think we should both promise something to each other.” Crowley gave him an attentive look, ready to grasp whatever his friend would want of him. “We should stop living in the past, reminding ourselves of those mistakes. We have a chance to build our relationship anew, so let’s take it.”

“You’re right.” Aziraphale was very very right, only Crowley feared promising won’t be enough. He had a tendency to reminisce all his errors, to lie in his bed at night, his head constantly reminding him of them. But he was going to try, for his and Aziraphale’s sake. “I promise.”

Aziraphale nodded. “I promise too.”

They looked at each other for a while, to have a moment to comprehend and digest all their emotions. After that while Aziraphale’s hand left Crowley’s, and Crowley really not sure why found its absence terribly upsetting.

“So paintings, huh? You paint a lot,” he muttered, just to change the topic, again.

“I suppose I do.”

Crowley smiled then, a tad hopeful. “Will I ever get to see them?”

“The paintings you mean?”

“Yes, absolutely, the paintings. Will you show them to me?”

Aziraphale flushed a little. “They’re not that good.”

“Well, they’re good enough for sale, so why not for me?”

“You have a point.”

“Right, I do, that means you have no other excuse.”

“Although it’s different when you sell something to a stranger, and when you show your work to a dear friend,” Aziraphale mused.

Crowley jumped a little in his seat, hearing those words. “Dear friend? Am I that already?”

“That status didn’t disappear, my dear. Not for years. In my head you were always my friend even if I didn’t get to see you anymore. Am I wrong for thinking so?”

“No, no,” Crowley assured hastily. “Of course not. I just thought that we’d have to start everything again… Since we haven’t seen each other for so long, could we really be friends like we used to be?”

Aziraphale tilted his head to the side, thoughtful for a second,. “Yes, I think we can.” Then he smiled. “I think we work together. I’ve never had someone so different from me, like you, make me so at ease, and yet you see...”

“Oh.” It really was peculiar, but it was true. Aziraphale and Crowley just clicked. Despite so many differences their friendship was so- so natural. It could almost be considered an anomaly that it fell to pieces in the first place. “Do you think we’re destined to have each other in our lives?” asked Crowley idly.

That made Aziraphale chuckle. “That’s not out of the question, but I suppose those matters are rather ineffable.”

Crowley grinned. “Ineffable, yeah. I guess it all really doesn’t matter, and our reunion was just a coincidence, but a good one indeed.”

“Destiny or not, we decide what happens next, and I know we can make things work.”

Crowley couldn’t help but feel as his spirt rose inside him, but then his sarcastic side had taken over. “Yeah, cause we always make things work,” he replied, a laugh in his voice.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “I hope you meant it.”

“In terms of friendship yes,” Crowley agreed, thought it might’ve not been entirely true. “But d’you remember that watch you got for your twelfth birthday? We really didn’t make that one work.”

“Anthony Crowley!”

“What?”

“Don’t you dare bring up the watch, you know I got in trouble for it!”

“You shouldn’t though, in my opinion the situation was entirely funny, you parents just didn’t seemed to get it.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “It was funny for you, but they paid for that watch.”

“Wellll, that’s a pity then.”

Crowley observed as his friend pressed his palm to his face. “You’re really one of kind,” he said. “We were having a heart-to-heart conversation here… and you bring up the watch?”

“You see, that’s actually the trick to being cool, you avoid hard topics, bring up the funny ones,” Crowley replied grinning.

That apparently, instead of convincing Aziraphale, only caused him to make a face. “That’s called being bad at communication.”

“Mneh. I don’t see the difference.”

Crowley was ready for another disbelieving comment from his friend, but it never came. Instead Aziraphale giggled. “I truly cannot with you… you’re so ridiculous,” he muttered.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Aziraphale didn’t answer, he just took Crowley’s hand in his again. “Anthony Crowley, I hope you’ll stay in my life forever.”

~*~

They both had to go, eventually, even though neither of them was very eager. They left the café after four whole hours of sitting there, and Crowley briefly wondered if the owner had something against that. They had talked and had laughed and had generally a jolly good time, but it had to come to an end.

Aziraphale stood in front of Crowley, uncertainty in his eyes. They were now in front of the café’s entrance, bidding their farewells as they both had to take a different route. “I was wondering, how to you feel about hugs and touch in general, between friends?” he asked.

Crowley frowned. “I suppose I don’t mind.”

“I am still quite fond of that,” admitted Aziraphale. “And I was thinking if you’d like a hug goodbye…”

That question went without an answer, because in a matter of seconds Crowley was already tightly embracing his friend. “Hugs are good,” he murmured. “I like’em too.”

Aziraphale squeezed him with his arms. “You would not believe how glad I am,” he breathed into Crowley’s ear, “that I get to see you again.”

“Mmm. M’happy too.”

They stood for at least a minute simply hugging. Oh, how Crowley missed that. How sweet it was to have a moment of remembrance how Aziraphale felt under his arms. And his scent – a recollection of years of a blissful friendship. Something suspiciously wet started to fill his eyes.

They let go eventually, of course, their gazes still locked together though. Crowley wasn’t sure if the sparkles he saw in Aziraphale’s own eyes were tears as well, but hoped that if they were, they were the ones of happiness.

Chapter Text

Mrs. and Mr. Shirley were once again talking in hushed voices, close to each other. But Crowley could hear them. It really wasn’t a new conversation that they were having. The same, over and over again; the shop was to be closed, sooner or later and Crowley had no moving spirit in this situation no matter how much he wished he’d have.

He told Aziraphale about the situation, on Friday. They decided on a walk this time around, and Aziraphale had asked Crowley how had he been doing at work, and so naturally the topic came up.

“How will I find a better job?” Crowley whined desperately.

“Oh, you poor thing,” murmured Aziraphale, patting him lightly on the back of his arm. “I’m sure you’ll find an agreeable one.”

“Dunno. Will I?”

Aziraphale’s face twisted in worry. “My dear…”

They locked their eyes, and Crowley gave his friend a sad smile. “S’okay.”

“But did they really take the final decision?”

“Uh, not yet theoretically, but they talk about it a whole lot and I’m feeling it’s to be soon.”

“Ah. I see.”

They walked in silence for some time before Crowley finally let the corner of his mouth wander a little upwards and glanced at Aziraphale. “Enough about that. How are you?”

Aziraphale beamed then, the way only he could truly pull off. “I must say this week went exceptionally well.”

“Aww,” Crowley drawled. “That’s brilliant then.”

“I sold one the paintings that have been taking up space in my flat for month now, I finally got around to reading the book I’ve really wanted to begin, and now I’m seeing you! Isn’t that marvellous?”

“Quite,” muttered Crowley, flushing at the latter comment. “What was the painting?”

“Oh, it was not really a fine one, and although I put it on sale for a smaller price, it didn’t get much traction. But I found a buyer, so I am one badly done painting less!” Aziraphale wiggled his shoulders happily.

“How can I really know if it was so ‘badly done’ as you say if I didn’t see it?” asked Crowley sneakily, sending his friend a meaningful grin.

“Is this, perhaps, an allusion to you wanting to see my paintings?”

“Mhmmmm.” Crowley slowly nodded his head. “As a matter of fact it is.”

“Again?” Aziraphale asked, rolling his eyes.

“That is only the second time, you must let me at some point, right?”

The huffed expression changed into a disbelieving smile. “I will, my dear, you just need to learn some patience.”

Crowley pouted, even though he knew that ultimately he’d get to see what he wanted.

“I am looking forward to seeing you more, I hope you know that,” assured Aziraphale. “And that will quite possibly lead up to you being at my flat, which will lead to you seeing my paintings. So really there’s nothing to pester me about.”

“But I like pestering people,” Crowley said, sullen, “so you cannot stop me.”

Aziraphale sighed fondly. “You’re really didn’t change one bit. Still the same silly thing.”

“Oi! There’s no need for name-calling. ‘Silly’,” Crowley muttered under his breath disapprovingly. “Besides I did change.”

“In what manner?”

“I now possess higher knowledge,” Crowley said proudly, “and skills, teenage me wouldn’t even dream of having.”

“Such as?”

“Such as being able to distinguish leucanthemum vulgare from chamaemelum nobile,” he replied wiggling his eyebrows.

Aziraphale nearly chocked on laughter. At first Crowley just stood there proud of making his friend laugh, but soon he couldn’t help but join.

They laughed until they cried in the middle of the park, for a seemingly irrational reason.

“What I said wasn’t even that funny,” let out Crowley between tears.

“I assure you it was.” Aziraphale halted his laugh to dry his eyes. “What are those anyway?”

“The daisy and the chamomile.”

That send them both into more unrestrained laughter.

“That’s the most stupid and nonsensical joke of mine that made somebody laugh,” Crowley muttered.

“Oh, stop it, you silly thing, your jokes are always quite clever.”

The mirth of both of them slowly died down, replaced with overall relish of each other’s presence.

“Well, I might’ve missed your ‘stupid’ and ‘nonsensical” jokes,” Aziraphale murmured under his breath.

“I bet.” Crowley bared his teeth in a grin. “I am very charming after all.”

That, pretty unexpectedly, made Aziraphale blush a little. “Er, quite.”

They roamed through the alley in a sense of tranquillity for bit, until Crowley didn’t break the silence by grunting. “Soooo, d’you wanna go somewhere more specific?”

“I wouldn’t mind. Would you protest if we were to grab a cup of tea or coffee?”

“No, obviously not. That would be nice, actually.”

So they strolled off to the nearest café that Crowley spotted on Google Maps, and midst the walk Aziraphale seemed to take quite the interest in the pins that were attached to Crowley’s bag. Mostly his eyes glued to the little flower one in colours of the asexual flag.

“You’re ace?” he asked, raising his eyes to Crowley’s face.

Crowley gave a short nod, rather relieved coming to notice that Aziraphale recognised the colours, and didn’t sound at all sceptical about them. He didn’t expect his friend to be aphobic, of course, but he feared that a little, nonetheless.

“Oh,” Aziraphale only said, then examined Crowley’s face carefully, his eyes searching for something non-specific. A small smile graced his features then, small but a very pleased one. “That’s an entirely lovely badge. Where did you get it?”

“Ough, I may not remember correctly… I think it was an online shop.”

“I see, I’ll have to look into it.”

Crowley held his breath, halting himself from drawing any premature conclusions. “Are you in market for an ace pin?”

“I was thinking of getting one,” Aziraphale admitted.

Crowley stopped them both then, catching his friend by the sleeve of his coat. “Aziraphale, are you asexual?”

Aziraphale simply beamed. “Yes, yes I am.”

It took Crowley a few seconds to comprehend, that what he’d assumed was true. And every of that second was marked with his grin growing wider and wider, until he couldn’t deny himself a bit of an enthusiastic reaction. “Yes!” he cried. “Finally! I have a friend who’s also ace!”

Aziraphale giggled, clearly delighted with Crowley’s response. “Same goes for me.”

“I’ve been waiting years for someone who would share my experience! And someone who obviously would eat garlic bread with me. And my destiny presented you to me, again. That can’t be a coincidence! How is that possible?”

“As I said before – ineffable,” Aziraphale said with a smile. “But I must admit I am terribly fond of garlic bread.”

Crowley bared his teeth in a grin. “I’ve suspected. After all, you know all about the finest cuisine, which is what garlic bread is.”

“Oh, yes, of course!”

“By the by, how did you find out?” Crowley asked at last, not being able to contain his curiousness.

Aziraphale slumbered into a moment of thoughtfulness. “I suppose it was when I got into my first serious relationship. Before that I never thought of sex really, not entirely soberly. But we were kissing once, with my then boyfriend, and it got rather... how do I put it... passionate, and he clearly wanted more, and it was then when I realised that I can’t. I panicked at a mere thought of actually doing the act, and it was not like I wanted it, felt no need whatsoever for it. I could kiss him with absolute pleasure, but my mind drew the line at taking the pants off,” he concluded. He might’ve said that line a little bit too loud for his liking, because he suddenly pinked. “Goodness, Crowley, what possessed me to talk about such topics in public,” he breathed in horror.

Crowley just cackled, and then perched one of his arms on his friend’s shoulders to pat him lightly. “Don’t worry, no one cares.”

Aziraphale, nonetheless, still looked scandalised. “I was talking in public about... intercourse.”

“It’s not like it’s a crime,” countered Crowley remaining full of amusement.

“But it’s embarrassing!” Aziraphale exclaimed, clearly putting emphasis on the last word.

“Okay, alright, I got your point. From now on we’ll be talking about sex quietly.” Crowley leaned closer, with a conspiratorial smirk.

Aziraphale pushed him away, his face redder, shaking his head. “You’re making it worse, you menace.”

“How so?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?

“Crowley!”

“Alrightttt,” Crowley drawled. “I’m sorry. You can finish your story now.”

Aziraphale sighed, but even though his face was still full of annoyance, he began, “Oh, yes, well. Then I got searching what exactly the way I am is. And I found out that I’m quite definitely asexual.” He gave Crowley a glance. “And what about you, what made you realise?”

Crowley gave himself a moment to think, and then realised the answer wasn’t that complicated. “It's just I didn’t care about sex, like at all. I mean I had it once and it was very meh kind of experience and I never felt a need to try it again.”

“Well, I see, we differ a bit, obviously, but sexuality is such a confusing and complicated thing after all.”

“So complicated, yeah.”

“That’s also quite a topic. The complication of it all,” Aziraphale muttered. “You know, at first I was panicking, I couldn’t comprehend at the time who exactly am I. That’s why I was so relived to find out that my asexuality and sex-repulsion wasn’t a me thing only.”

Crowley groaned empathetically. “Questioning your sexuality can be so hard sometimes. I spent so much unnecessary time wondering if I’m not faking it or something.”

“Quite, I’ve had a few similar problems. But I am contented that I understand everything a little bit more clearly now.”

“Duh, you have no idea how much research I put into the topic of asexuality. I spent literal hours on forums and groups asking terribly specific questions, and I’m still low-key confused.”

“I have to admit that a lot of those internet people can be helpful in the most unexpected matters.”

“Hmmm, yeah. Anyway, now that I have an ace friend I can talk with you about it, so that’s cool,” Crowley said, giving Aziraphale a grin.

“I’m glad I can be of help.”

Crowley felt something suspiciously soft overtake his heart, it happened peculiarly often around Aziraphale, for the most random reasons. “Oh, I needed this, seriously,” he let out.

“An asexual friend?” Aziraphale asked quizzically, a bit amused.

“That and just talking about my asexuality with you, I guess.”

“Sharing something with a friend can often be relieving,” admitted Aziraphale, not grudging a smile.

“Yeah.” Especially with such lovely friend as Crowley had now.

They would probably be blocking the alley for longer if Aziraphale didn’t finally speak up, “I hate to spoil the fun, but I think we’re standing here for long enough now.”

“Yeah, you’ve got a point.”

He took Crowley’s hand and squeezed it. “Let’s get going. The tea obviously cannot wait. And we can still talk more at the café.”

~*~

Hello! I was wondering if you’d like to pop in for a cup of tea on Sunday. – Aziraphale

sure

what hour?

4 pm suits me the most, what about you? – Aziraphale

that’s okay by me too

also

do you realise you don’t have sign off your every message?

I know who you are

Right, you do.

I’ll be there

I mean at your place

sunday 4pm

Jolly good! I cannot wait to see you! :)

:)

…

I forgot I don’t have your address

Quite right! I’ll send it to you in a moment.

thanks

and yk I’ll finally see your flat

so that’s cool

I suppose it is.

I’ll see your studio B)

You really are quite instant on seeing it.

Aren’t you, my dear?

yes

gonna see your paintings

and I’ll judge them properly

Just not too harshly I beg you.

we’ll see

but they prolly good

you just are so humble

course you are

I don’t know about that, dear.

They might not be as good as you think.

see

you’re being humble

Well.

You’ll get to see everything on Sunday.

See you then. :)

see you

~*~

What Crowley was looking at was possibly the most breath-taking painting he’d ever seen. The colours, the composition, everything was perfect right to the notch. “It’s beautiful,” he breathed out in marvel.

He was standing in the middle of the quite chaotic but mostly charming atelier that belonged to Aziraphale. Surrounded by paintings, sketches and many, many art supplies, he had been presented to a landscape of the sunrise that hang on the wall.

Aziraphale gave him a small smile. “I must admit I’m really proud of that one.”

“I remember your sketches being great back when we were, you know- But how you’ve improved! Why aren’t you famous already?” Crowley asked entirely genuine.

Aziraphale chuckled. “I wish it was that easy. I’m sure there are thousands of artists who paint just as well or even better than I do.”

“Well, I guess I’ll simply have to choose not to believe in that.” He approached the painting carefully and took a closer look. From this close up he could see every stroke of paint, every little detail. The craftsmanship of the piece was just as mesmerising to look at as the whole thing. It was more than impressive.

“Besides,” Aziraphale continued. “I’m entirely contented with a more peaceful type of life.”

Crowley turned his head to give his friend a glance and grinned. “That’s such a you thing, isn’t it? I bet that if you could, you would simply hide yourself in your room with your books, and paintings and a cup of tea and you would never let the world find out about you.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “I’ll have you know, that, yes, I may be an introvert, but I do relish spending time with people.” He drew near Crowley and rested his hand on his elbow gently. “For example you, my dear.”

“Ngh.” From an unknown reason Crowley felt his heart skip a beat. It must’ve been the unexpected physical contact that caused it. That was very probable.

Aziraphale took a step back now, letting his arms drop to his sides. “Would you like to take a look at my sketches?” he asked. “I have a whole lot of them.”

“Honestly, I would be honoured,” Crowley answered grinning.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes fondly. “Oh, don’t be like that Crowley, it’s just a few notebooks de facto filled with doodles, nothing to be honoured with.”

“We’ll see if they’re really just doodles, as you say. I’ll be the judge of that.” He drew near Aziraphale examining the stack of notebooks he was holding in his grip and then snatched the first one. “Let’s see,” he muttered. Of course he was right, these definitely weren’t only doodles; the sketches were a wonder to look at, aesthetically pleasing, perfectly arranged on the pages. Simply by looking at them Crowley could easily ascertain that Aziraphale was one of those people who used to have the neatest notes when attending school, with ideal handwriting, and colourful pens marking all the important bits.

He flipped through the pages carefully, trying not to miss any of the drawings. It started mostly in faunal themes, different exotic animals, or sea creatures, but Aziraphale seemed to take quite an interest in birds. There were many of them, different kinds, sparrows, hoopoes, crows, but most of all Aziraphale seemed to like the nightingale, there were at least five separate pages dedicated to it in that one notebook alone. Sketched in different styles, at times a bit messy, at times with perfect precision.

“That’s rather nice,” Crowley muttered under his breath.

“Do you like them?” Aziraphale’s voice sounded hopeful. “I am very fond of this particular sketchbook.”

“Well, I didn’t know you were into ornithology.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “I had quite a faze back then. I do have some watercolours of birds too.”

Crowley tilted his head to the side with amusement. “What are you waiting for then? Show’em!”

Aziraphale’s face brightened again, and he reached to one of the chest of drawers in the room. “As you wish, my dear.” Then he pulled out one of the drawers and started rooting amongst all the possessions.

Crowley observed the action with unrestrained glee. He really was having so much fun today. First the cup of tea, of course, and Aziraphale, who really was the most important bit of this evening, and then the paintings. And the last part was what struck Crowley right in his heart, it felt like being surrounded by Aziraphale’s soul, exposed to everything he held dear to himself. Crowley had missed that; he’d missed being a witness of the true Aziraphale. Because Aziraphale was one of the most fascinating and wonderful creatures he’d ever known, and one of a beautiful heart. That’s what Crowley used to love about him, that’s what he was ready to love yet again.

In a friendly manner of course.

Finally, his friend pulled out a few framed pictures and handed them to Crowley. “How about that?”

“Gorgeous,” he admitted. A few nightingales again, some hummingbirds and a jay, all finely made. Crowley was not one to be good at recognizing painting or drawing skills; he would look at most paintings and could with confidence acknowledge the artistry of them but having a friend who possessed this kind of talent, that was something. Crowley could admire all the paintings from many artists from across the world with wonder for long, but he would take double the time to do the same with just one creation of someone who was dear to him.

A blush spread on Aziraphale’s face. “I’m pleased to hear that.”

“Seriously. I could buy one of these if they were for sale.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Aziraphale reprimanded. “I could give you one.”

Crowley quickly forced the pictures once again into his friend’s hands. “I couldn’t… You worked hard on these.”

“No, not really,” countered Aziraphale, but he took the watercolours back. “How about we go back to the sketchbooks?”

Crowley was more than happy to do just that. He leafed through some more of the notebooks, delighted by every one of them. The themes changed, now there was more architecture, but still the fauna remained, along with some flora.

Only after a good while Crowley noticed that Aziraphale was quite obviously occupied with something, a pencil in his hand, a piece of paper set on his desk. One glance revealed that what Crowley was looking at was taking his own shape. He stared at Aziraphale in amusement until his friend didn’t steal a glimpse in his direction and their eyes locked. A sheepish smile appeared on Aziraphale face contradicting Crowley’s smug one.

“Are you drawing me?”

“Yes, is that a bother?”

Crowley smirked. “No, not at all.” He even gave himself a permission to wink at Aziraphale, which sadly went ignored, because his friend already went back to his work. Crowley observed as Aziraphale put the pencil in motion again, every single of his moves contributing to the piece’s creation. The attention might’ve flustered Crowley, just a little bit, because every time Aziraphale glanced in his direction for reference he could feel his cheeks growing warmer. Possibly it was the way Aziraphale looked at him, with such a soft gaze, but that was only possibly.

At last the sketch was finished. “Here,” Aziraphale said happily. “How do you like it?”

As with everything Aziraphale drawn Crowley was in awe. “I do look handsome,” he replied smirking.

“Well.”

“Are you gonna put this on your wall now, to look at and admire my face every day?” Crowley asked. He was quick to realise that what he just did was on the borderline of flirting so shut himself up immediately. It was better not to flirt, not even jokingly.

Aziraphale’s face reddened. “Well, I was rather thinking I’ll give it to you.”

“Oh, oh yes.” That should’ve been obvious that it was for Crowley, of course. Why would Aziraphale want it? But at least the comment didn’t seem to bother him in any way. “Thanks.”

Crowley took the piece of paper, but then extended his hand with it back. “Hey! You didn’t leave your autograph,” he pointed out.

With a fond sigh Aziraphale got hold of the sketch and put it back on his desk to scribble his signature. “There, are you happy now?”

“Very happy.” Crowley admired the sketch for a second. “When you’ll finally be famous I will get to brag that I knew you once and you made this for me. I will put it in a golden frame!”

“Knew me once?” Aziraphale protested. “Crowley, if I ever become famous, which is quite impossible, I am not planning on abandoning any of my friends. You would still know me. Or at least I hope so.”

“Nhh, well, I hope so too,” Crowley muttered and then added with a smirk, “You’re not getting rid of me for the foreseeable future.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Actually, I think that that’s very good.”

Chapter Text

Crowley was at Aziraphale’s again.

Lately he had been at Aziraphale’s very very often. He had come here immediately after work, notifying his friend with only single text beforehand. They had come back to a stage of their relation that omitted any forced politeness, or surges of anxiety that came with fear of taking the wrong step in the process of reassembling the connection. It had progressed faster than Crowley expected it to, but he accepted it full of unrestrained contentment. To have Aziraphale in his live so present was a miracle.

It’s been only two months since their reunion, and they just couldn’t stop, they were respectively at each other’s places, or somewhere out in town every single week. It was rather irresistible. They didn't hold back; they truly didn't want to. Because why would they? They always managed to fill up the time from afternoons to late evenings with each other’s presence, talking for hours.

And on one afternoon akin to those Crowley had come to the conclusion that calling Aziraphale his best friend once more definitely wouldn’t be a stretch. And if that wasn’t a miracle.

Well, at the moment his alleged best friend was ranting and babbling about his wildest workplace stories and had Crowley as his most devoted listener sprawled on the sofa.

“She told me that people like me should not be allowed to handle any exposits,” Aziraphale huffed. “I asked her why and the only answer she was able to provide was that I don’t have enough experience to do so. And I’m asking: ‘How on earth, dear lady, am I supposed to gain any experience if I can’t do my job?!’”

Crowley cackled, doubling over. “Did you actually tell her that?”

“Oh, I wish I had enough courage, my dear fellow, but alas...”

“You should’ve told her.”

Aziraphale tsked. “If only I were as suave as you are, perchance I would.”

Crowley smirked. “Bloody suave, I am.”

“I didn’t doubt that,” Aziraphale said with a touch of amusement, but then continued, “In the end she is not my employer or a higher up, so her words were merely a bit of a bother and nothing else. Only I wish she could’ve kept them to herself.”

“Pfff, definitely.”

Aziraphale who had stood the entire time, leaned slightly against the doorframe, regarding Crowley from his position, a frown forming on his face. “Is this a new shirt?” he asked at last. “I’ve never seen that one before.”

“That?” Crowley asked, pinching the fabric of his sleeve between his fingers.

Aziraphale nodded.

“Ah, yeah, I got it the previous week. It’s nice, eh?”

Aziraphale nodded again, smiling, indicating his clear approval.

It was a nice shirt. Black, with bishop sleeves, and a chelsea collar.

“Glad someone noticed.” Crowley was glad that Aziraphale noticed, specifically. He had always had an eye for fine thing, so his appreciation was, er, appreciated. Beside Crowley kind of liked looking nice around him. There was no real reason behind that… probably. Crowley hadn’t actually put that much thought into the matter.  

“Well, I find it very lovely.”

Crowley made a mental note to put that shirt more often.

“Now how about I'll bring you a cup of tea,” Aziraphale said, straightening up.

“Oh, yeah, that's sounds nice,” Crowley muttered as an answer.

“I can also make one for myself as well. And I’ll bring us biscuits!” Aziraphale was already all smiles. How did he do that? He was so enthusiastic about the smallest of things. Crowley could even be tempted to say that it was sort of cute, those little reaction Aziraphale had.

He was bustling now in his kitchen, busy with filling the kettle with water, and preparing all the dishes. Crowley couldn’t quite see him, but he could definitely hear him, causing clatter of the teacups and humming some kind of soft tune. He sprawled even more comfortably on the sofa, listening, and waiting not so patiently. He had a few other things to tell Aziraphale, including his recent discovery that apparently if a moon had its own moon it was informally called a moonmoon.

A few minutes had passed, and Crowley could hear the whistle of the kettle abating as Aziraphale lifted it off the stove, and then a comforting sound of water being poured into teacups filled his ears. Soon Aziraphale was in the doorway with a tray filled with goods, and when he spotted Crowley he threw him the sweetest smile he probably could muster.

There used be times, when they were fourteen, when this smile would make Crowley’s chest tighten or send a shiver down his spine.

Well, if that was ten years ago, then why was his heartbeat quickening so, and why couldn’t he breathe properly. What was happening?

Aziraphale approached, setting the tray on the table. “Here you go, a cup of tea and plate of biscuits only for you, my dear,” he said cheerily which was supplied with an adorable wiggle.

Crowley felt it in his whole body when the realisation finally reached his brain. He felt himself grow cold, as if someone just emptied a bucket of freezing water over him.

Ah, right, that was happening. That was bloody happening… again.

Aziraphale was being sweet. Aziraphale was being adorable. Aziraphale was giving him pretty smiles.

Aziraphale was being an angel.

Crowley heart thumped harshly against his ribs, articulating what was currently happening. Crowley was damned.

Of course, he had fallen for Aziraphale again.

“Crowley, you do seem a tad dazed. Is the tea not strong enough?”

“What? Tea? Um- no, not the tea, tea’s perfect, angel,” he mumbled, picking up the cup in rush, then upon realising what he’d said he almost dropped it. Hell no. Hell no. He was not going have the repeat of whatever happened ten years ago. No angels. No falling for Aziraphale. No!

“Well, if everything is alright, I’m glad.” No, not everything was alright! But at least Aziraphale didn’t hear the bloody angel thing, thank God.

Crowley followed his friend with his gaze until he sat right next to him, the small sofa forcing them to be closer. So damn close. The closer the worse, because just an accidental brush of their arms made Crowley’s face turn unbearably hot.

“Do you think the biscuits will be fine?” Aziraphale asked ever so casually. “I must admit I haven’t yet got a chance to try them. They’re from that new bakery.” Yeah, biscuits, if only he knew what Crowley was going through right now.

“Not sure,” Crowley mumbled as an answer, avoiding his friend’s gaze.

Aziraphale hummed softly at that and took a sip of his tea.

Crowley was panicking. What the hell was he supposed to do about this? How the hell was he supposed to handle that bloody crush thing this time? Because last time… Oh, last time was not even worth mentioning. He had messed up the last time so badly. And he was going to mess up this time too, wasn’t he? Damn it, he had tried avoiding it, he had been careful. Why was this happening to him?

His dread was quickly put to a stop when he felt brush of fingers on his wrist. Aziraphale was looking at him with a frown. “You seem absent. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Crowley blurted out. “What do you always say in those situations? Tickety-boo.”

“I usually use that phrase when I’m rather stressed and I don’t want let it be known,” Aziraphale said, consternation not leaving his face.

“Oh, a new Aziraphale fun fact, thanks.” Crowley let out a snort that was supposed to sound amused but instead it came out as hysterical.

“I’m not really certain if that’s so fun. And we are not talking about me. Are you stressed now, my dear?”

“Nhh, no, I said that I’m not.”

“You do appear to me.”

“Nhh.”

“That is all you got as a response?”

“Yup.”

Aziraphale gaze softened. “Crowley, talk to me?”

Crowley shook his head, feeling just embarrassed and pathetic. He couldn’t tell Aziraphale, not a word. If he would, everything could be over. The friendship he had so fought for, the friendship his life was generous enough to give him back. He was lucky enough to have it, and without too much hardship really. Goodness, he had been naïve thinking that this time everything would go according to his plans.

“Oh, dear…”

“Sorry for spoiling the mood.”

Aziraphale placed his hand on Crowley’s arm and stroked it cautiously. “You absolutely did not. But if you’re not feeling like telling me then perhaps a hug could help.”

A hug. Right. So being gently held in Aziraphale’s arms. Ngk.

Crowley’s mind spiralled. He was already making it weird, wasn’t he? Aziraphale was offering him a sweet and selfless and a friendly gesture and he was hesitating only because his mind couldn’t stop having ideas.

And if that wasn’t what had separated them in the first place? Distancing each other, abandoning affections that were a crucial part of their friendship for the sake that hadn’t even existed. And in the end by trying to protect their friendship they had destroyed it simultaneously. Crowley couldn’t allow that now.

So he put his mind at ease, took a deep breath, and waited a few seconds for his heartbeat to slow down, and when he did he was ready. “Actually I could really use that right now,” he said, because deep inside he knew that this hug was all he needed.

He gasped softly when Aziraphale grasped him by the fabric of his shirt and pulled him close without hesitation. “There you are, my dear,” he murmured, embracing him tightly.

At first Crowley stiffened, afraid to move, to seek any real comfort, but then he let himself relax, just a tiny bit, enough for the whole gravity of the situation to soke in. “I’m such a fool Aziraphale,” he muttered, burring his head in his friend’s neck. “Such a helpless, wretched fool.”

“Whatever are you talking about?” Aziraphale looked all but contented with Crowley’s statement. “I do not endorse you saying such unpleasant things about yourself.”

“If you knew what just happened, you’d agree.”

“I doubt it.”

“You call me a fool sometimes, though.”

“Only in form of a jest, I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

Crowley sighed. “I guess.” He carefully braced himself on Aziraphale’s shoulder to reluctantly, but with a sense of duty, free himself from his arms. He had no intention of spending the rest of this afternoon in a sullen mood, and in the process affecting Aziraphale. He was too kind to Crowley already, didn’t even question what got his friend so upset all of a sudden, just brought him ease. Crowley inhaled, and then exhaled, and then gave Aziraphale a hopeful glance. “Please tell me more about your day.”

His friend had taken a second before fully understanding the reason behind the sudden change of topic, but when he did, he smiled. “If you wish me to.”

And so Aziraphale talked. About something that was surely very intriguing, but Crowley just couldn’t focus. The only thing his mind seemed to want to grasp at the moment was how impossibly beautiful Aziraphale was. And good God, he was heavenly gorgeous. It was no wonder that that old stupid nickname was so imprinted in Crowley’s consciousness. With that looks he really could’ve easily been mistaken for a literal angel.

Now, that he’d noticed, everything Aziraphale did seemed so bloody sweet. Before it had been sweet too, it had been cute, it had been lovely or whatever, but when Crowley’s stupid crush had gone unnoticed by him, the sweetness had been way less intense. Now he was subjected to the ordeal of knowing, being aware that he kind of bloody liked all of that more than he should. He liked Aziraphale’s smiles, and his pale curls, and blue eyes, and the way he laughed. And he had known that, sort of, but hadn’t paid it any real attention. But now, now he had to live with that knowledge. And goodness, it was so hard to ignore.

Aziraphale filled the time with his stories, and even a few discussions that Crowley couldn’t help but join. Which did get him distracted, so that was nice. And in the end everything went as it usually did. When the hour on the clock began to be something truly worrying Crowley slowly retreated to the exit of Aziraphale’s flat. Then they said their goodbyes, hugged, promised each other they would see each other soon and then Crowley left. The only difference was that this time around when he did, instead of feeling the usual delight that came along with Aziraphale’s presence, he felt as if he got hit by a truck. A truck driven by his feelings specifically. His feelings never passed a driving test.

He wanted to go for a proper walk, to clear his mind, to roam through streets illuminated by streetlamps, to breath in some fresh air, but it was late so reluctantly he found his way back to his flat instead.  

Crowley entered without a word, took his shoes and jacket off and passed through the living room with his head hanging down, his target being his bedroom.

“Hey, what’s up?” He heard Anathema asking, but he ignored her. “By the way I saved you some rice for dinner if you want. It’s in that smaller pot, you know the one with a broken handle.”

As much as rice didn’t sound half bad, Crowley was already set on what he was going to eat this evening, so he waved her away. “Don’t worry, not eating rice today, I’ll have my noodles.”

“What noodles?”

“My emergency instant noodles, my life savers, my mental health support noodles, the healthiest meal of them all. That noodles I mean.”

She made a face. “What did you get yourself into this time?”

He only sighed and shook his head. “Better not to speak.”

She turned, back to facing the screen of the TV. “Have it your way, I guess,” she muttered, but then when he nearly reached the door to his room, she glanced at him once again. “But you know, you can speak to me if something’s truly bothering you, right?”

Crowley gave her a small nod. “F’course, except this time it’s nothing much… I’m just being dramatic. You know how much I like being dramatic.”

She let out an amused huff. “Sure.”

Crowley had an emergency drawer filled with noodles, and noodles only. Of course, they weren’t healthy and had barely any nutritional value, but Crowley thought they were good, and no one could convince him otherwise. So his comfort food they were, and whenever his life was being unnecessarily cruel to him, and he genuinely had no mental strength to make something proper he made noodles. Today was no different. He picked the extra hot flavour to spice things up a little and make his mouth hurt, because apparently his life wasn’t hurting him enough. He made a speedy trip to the kitchen to fill the cup with boiling water, and other one to his room.

He jumped on his bed, putting the cup filled with steaming noodles beside him. The air was already filling with the comforting scent. A few quick clicks on his laptop and already had favourite series set up. Ah, Golden Girls, that was truly a show. But before tapping the big play button in the middle of the screen he picked up a fork, which after a short journey ended up wrapped with noodles. When trying to fill himself with the first forkful of food, the noodles started sliding down. He stared at them reproachingly for a couple of seconds before he didn’t stubble over a thought that he kind of was like that bloody noodle. Unhealthy, pathetic, and running away from difficult situation.

Oh well, so that was the end of peacefully enjoying his meal.

He groaned dramatically, laying down his head on his pillow and stared at the celling.

Why on earth he had to be such an idiot? An idiot in every way. In believing that he could ever prevent himself from being smitten by Aziraphale, and in a way that he had let himself be smitten by Aziraphale.

Technically, it was possible he could still stop it, somehow force himself to be unsmitten or something, but in reality he knew it was impossible. Aziraphale was simply too charming.

Damn that pretty angel!

It was no wonder that if he had fallen for Aziraphale once he could fall for him terribly easily once more, but for a second there he had let himself believe that this time everything would turn out differently.

Eventually Crowley sat up again, still feeling pretty pathetic but glad to have analysed all the factors that lead to all of the unfortunate events of today. When he finally ate a little bit of his noodles and began watching Golden Girls his mood started to improve. There were pros to this situation after all. For instance, this time around he didn’t yet tell or displayed any sign of romantic adoration before Aziraphale, which meant that this time around he could opt for safe pining. If he wouldn’t tell anyone about them he could simply keep his traitorous feelings to himself, thus an incident that resembled the one of their first kiss could never occur. Yes, that sounded quite acceptable. He could yearn for Aziraphale, but Aziraphale wouldn’t have to experience any consequences of that. The feelings simply had to stay hidden and nothing else would get in the way. They could still easily remain friends! Good, good, that was very good.

Crowley let out a proper exhale full of relief. He felt shook, and still filled with doubts, but now some hope accompanied the mix. Maybe he was good after all.

Life still went on, every morning sun would rise again, and every night the moon would, and also once again Crowley had a crush on Aziraphale, and that was bloody alright.

~*~

A week later Aziraphale had called him, being very insistent on taking a walk with Crowley. It had been adorable the way he had explained that the weather was about to be nice, and that he had found a lovely place to get bubble waffles and that they both needed to try it out. Crowley hadn’t needed to think twice if he would go or not.

At first he stressed, as to what exactly was he going to do. Knowing what he felt for Aziraphale, how much he adored him, he was aware that might starting to act like an idiot. He’d called Aziraphale “angel” already, that definitely was a symptom of helpless idiocy coming up.

When Aziraphale finally arrived though, Crowley breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing his smiling friend enthusiastically approaching him, he remembered that after all most of things were suddenly much easier to resolve when Aziraphale was around him.

“Hello my dear!”

“Hi!”

“It is so lovely to see you,” Aziraphale said gleefully and pulled Crowley into a greeting hug. His soft arms around Crowley were sending shivers down his spine. He wished he could get lost in them, that Aziraphale could permit him to linger for longer, but a part of him felt guilty merely for entertaining those sort of fantasies, so he pulled away. Aziraphale was still being pretty and all smiles, but Crowley didn’t allow for it to daze him. “So… nice weather and bubble waffles, you say?”

“Exactly that,” answered his friend. “I found today a perfect day for a walk with a bit of a sweet addition, don’t you?”

“I certainly don’t mind,” Crowley admitted.

“I’m glad you could come; I wouldn’t have gone otherwise.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley drawled with a touch of amusement, “why would you deny yourself anything because of my absence?”

The face Aziraphale made then, made it seem like the answer to the question Crowley was asking was so obvious that it was nearly useless. “It’s because I love spending time with you,” he said. “And obviously the real point of this outing is not the bubble waffles, but you.”

Crowley’s face filled with heat; he groaned in resignation. “Now you’re making it all soppy. Stop it.”

“Why would I though, my dear?” Aziraphale asked, smiling way too smugly for Crowley’s liking. “I…”

Despite the protest of all his senses Crowley leaned closer, his face near Aziraphale’s face. “Now what? Are you gonna tell me that you- that you like it when I blush?”

“Oh, yes,” murmured Aziraphale. For a moment Crowley wondered what was the cause of the softness and uncertainty in his friend’s voice, and then he realised how awfully close their faces were. He recoiled at once, trying to pretend like all of his insides weren’t burning. “Right.” He turned his gaze away from Aziraphale.

“I’m surprised you remember that about me, dear. But really, I do.”

Crowley gulped. “We probably should not… speak about this.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” because it could’ve potentially came off as romantic or flirty, and Aziraphale could’ve noticed that and then he would’ve surely realised what Crowley felt for him and probably wouldn’t want to be Crowley’s friend ever again, and that would be a tragedy! Well, alright, that was a tad too much overthinking for one conversation. “…uhhh.”

“So I thought. But if you don’t want to speak about that, then we won’t,” Aziraphale agreed.

“Gnnh, thanks,” Crowley muttered under his breath. It was definitely the time to change the topic. “So- uhhh, where is that waffle place then?”

“Oh, I’ll lead us, don’t worry about that.”

Crowley nodded in agreement. “Then do.”

“Alright, alright, if you insist.”

“That was your idea to get waffles.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Touché.”

When they finally went their way, towards their destination, Crowley slowly began to realise that somehow nothing had gone sideways like he had originally predicted. If he were to simply not do anything, act like nothing changed, ignore his feelings, he would easily be able to maintain the friendly atmosphere between them and that would be just enough. And just enough was quite fine in this situation.

The location Aziraphale mentioned turned out to be a small place, purely dedicated to waffles. The vendor sold the waffles with all kinds of additions, you could get yours with ice cream, sprinkles, whipped cream, fruit, chocolate sauce, or icing sugar, or possibly all of that at once. And so, with all of those choices to make, it took them both a hefty amount of time to decide which one they wanted.

Eventually, Aziraphale chose his with ice cream, whipped cream and sprinkles and Crowley with ice cream and chocolate sauce (he had planned to go with plain at first to maintain his coolness, but Aziraphale had convinced him that ice cream and chocolate sauce were plenty cool, so he gave in).

They sat on the bench now, both savouring their treats.

“Do you want to try some of mine?” asked Aziraphale after a while, gesturing at his portion with a small wooden spoon, they both got to go with their orders.

Crowley nodded and let himself scoop a small portion. He could feel the sweetness melting on his tongue. “What is that flavour? Cotton candy?”

Aziraphale nodded happily and stuffed another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

Crowley shook his head and tutted. “Such an immature flavour,” he said with a smirk, knowing Aziraphale wasn’t going to take the words in earnest.  

His friend made a face at that, anyway. “What on earth consist of mature ice cream flavours then, dear? You ordered cookies ‘n’ cream.”

“What’s wrong with cookies ‘n’ cream?”

“And what’s wrong with cotton candy?”

“Okay, okay, you have a point, there’s nothing wrong with cotton candy flavour.”

“So I thought.”

Crowley leaned close to Aziraphale, with a conservational smirk. “Everyone knows that if you are a real adult you have to cover your ice cream with real gold.”

“So if I cover my cotton candy ice cream in gold then it’s suddenly ‘mature’?”

“Exactly,” Crowley replied, with a stupid grin on his face.

Aziraphale let out a giggle and pressed his palm to his forehead. “You ridiculous creature.”

“What? I’m being funny. Aren’t I funny?”

“Hardly. You’re insulting my taste in ice cream.”

“Not for real, though,” Crowley said and dunked his spoon in Aziraphale’s portion again, and then shamelessly ate it.

“And now you’re stealing them! You fiend!” Aziraphale cried, almost sounding outraged. Almost being a key word, as it was hard to take his words seriously when he was barely suppressing his smile.

Crowley bared his teeth in a grin. “You can’t stop me.”

“Well, maybe I can’t, but you will have to eventually,” Aziraphale assured. “Your own portion is melting,” he pointed out.

At those words Crowley was quick to notice that the ice cream was indeed melting, ready to drip down on the ground. “Damn it,” he muttered and bit into that part of waffle that was the most covered in them. When the crisis was averted his turned his eyes to his friend again. “Anyway we aren’t really adults, so we don’t have to cover anything in gold,” he muttered.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

“Being a twenty-four-year-old is barely being an adult. It’s like moments ago I was a teenager, still studying and now I am an adult, and I have to work, and pay taxes and my rent, and think seriously about my life? Like what’s that about?”

That made Aziraphale chuckle. “There is some truth in that, I must admit.”

“Right?”

“I still get somewhat surprised when people call me ‘sir’,” admitted Aziraphale.

“Yeah, that’s my point!” Crowley exclaimed, making a face. “When did that all happen?”

“Well, it’s just time passing way too quickly,” Aziraphale mused, and when a second had passed he bumped his knee against Crowley’s, giving him a meaningful expression. “So, methinks we ought to make the most of it, hmm?”

Suddenly it felt as if it was serious, Crowley wasn’t sure what, but Aziraphale surely meant something by that. And not something that could be easily ignored, something probably important. But Crowley’s mind was buzzing at the moment, filled with suppressed feelings and a touch of anxiety, and so he couldn’t have himself trying to find an answer as to what was that. He was a fool, always had been at heart, so instead he simply said, “Like by stealing my friend’s ice cream?”

Aziraphale made a face. “Crowley!” He set his waffle back as far as he could from Crowley’s reach. “I’m not letting you have more!”

“Are you sure?” Crowley tried reaching them with a spoon, but unfortunately failed.

“Can we please go back to being mature?” Aziraphale enquired, full of resignation, but it was clear that there was some mirth hidden under that.

Crowley let himself grin. “Well, that’s a tricky one.”

An answer to those words was an eyeroll. “How, oh, how do I make you shut up and let me eat in peace?”

A truly terrifying thought haunted Crowley’s brain then. Kiss me, it wanted him to say, If you kiss me I’ll shut up. He froze, horrified by the fact how unexpectedly, but instinctively that idea came to him. He grunted, hoping it would distract Aziraphale from seeing the blush that was currently climbing on his cheeks. “I don’t think you can,” he answered, suppressing his terror.

“My bad, I suppose I should’ve predicted it,” Aziraphale said. He rested his back comfortably on the bench as his eyes wandered away for a moment. Maybe he actually was a bit irritated? But then he found Crowley’s hand, squeezed it and brushed his thumbed against the back of it, ultimately glancing back. “Now, how about he both eat our waffles before they get too soggy?”

Crowley hummed pensively. He wasn’t thinking about waffles, or ice creams, or anything of that kind. His mind was occupied with a single thought only – what would it take for Aziraphale to hold his hand like this forever?

Chapter Text

Since then Crowley was a mess. A mess that had fallen head over heels for his best friend. He’d accidentally called Aziraphale “angel” at least three times, not to mention all the idiotic blushing, stammering, gaping and so on. He was supposed to be cool, he had always been cool. But Aziraphale seemed to be none the wiser, at least that part of Crowley’s plan was working. They still laughed and bickered and met up every bloody week, the only difference was that Crowley was melting at almost anything that Aziraphale did or said.  

Sometimes Aziraphale would say the most flustering things, which probably no person in the world would take with a straight face, and Crowley simply would have to resist hiding his head under the nearest pillow to procced it.

It could be something on the lines of:

“In all honesty, sometimes I wish I could have you at all the times of the day with me,” said Aziraphale, his voice dripping with gentle sweetness. “Whenever a clever thought comes to my mind, it’s followed by, ‘I wish I could tell Crowley’.”

Crowley bravely resisted whatever panicky response was activating within him at the moment, and sticked with calm, but furious blushing. It didn’t mean that could let go of his cool persona, so as smugly as he could he replied, “Aww, thinking of me so often.”

“Oh, of course I am. All the time.”

“Ah-h.” Crowley was not quite sure how to respond to that.

“You’re so clever dear, I’m sure you would be able to solve this little problem of mine.”

An idea came to Crowley’s brain. Seemingly silly, but a very tempting one. “Maybe we should have a sleepover, eh?”

Aziraphale turned his head at Crowley curiously.

“Like a proper one, with a film, plenty of snacks, talking until three am. You could have me for a long time then. Have your after-sunset brilliant thoughts heard out.” The more he thought about it the more the notion appealed to him.  

“That’s definitely an interesting idea.” Aziraphale seemed to consider it.

“Quite. We did rather miss out on that, didn’t we?”

“In a way…”

“Yeah, but we can make it up now,” Crowley assured. “What’s stopping us?”

That earned him a pretty smile. “Nothing I believe.”

“Soooo… a sleepover next Saturday?” Crowley asked hopefully.

“I don’t see why not.”

~*~

As Saturday arrived Crowley only felt more and more excited and satisfied with his terribly brilliant idea. It was surely going to go marvellously.

After he had gotten home after work, he only had wait a couple of hours for their little event. Aziraphale unfortunately finished later so they had put it off to a later hour. So Crowley used that time to prepare all the necessities, such as his pyjama or a toothbrush. Then the rest of it he had spent very mindfully… by solving personality tests with Anathema.

“It says that if you were a pizza, you would be Hawaiian,” he announced.

Anathema gasped outranged. “There’s no way! Show that to me!”

Crowley turned his phone to show her the result, grinning like an idiot. “See, it’s right there.”

“I will not condone such gross misjudgement of my person,” she said.

“I don’t make the rules of these,” Crowley replied innocently.

Anathema raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Let’s see what are you gonna get.”

They wasted more of their time doing… yes, correct, more personality tests. But it was getting dangerously close to seven in the evening, so the hour of his sleepover meet-up with Aziraphale, so Crowley began to gather himself up.

“Ugh,” he let out. “It’s getting late, I better get going.” He sprang to his feet and sauntered towards the coat rack.

“Where to?” Anathema asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Aziraphale’s,” Crowley replied casually, putting on his jacket. “Probably won’t be home.” He grinned. “I might stay the night.”

“Really?” She seemed genuinely surprised.

“Yup,” he said, then corrected himself. “Actually no, it’s not I might stay the night, it’s I will.”

Anathema shrugged. “Cool, I guess I have the whole flat for myself this evening.”

“Yeah, that. Have fun.”

“Have fun you too.”

“I assure you I will.” He made guns with his fingers and in a very cool style left the flat.

He got to Aziraphale’s flying high, whistling on the way there. Before that, of course, he also stopped by a shop and got them all kinds of snacks. A few bags of crisps, popcorn, Aziraphale’s favourite biscuits, and a bottle of soda.

“Good evening, my dear,” Aziraphale welcomed him with a smile, when Crowley arrived at once. “Come in.”

Simply a glance revealed to Crowley that his friend wasn’t workshy when it came to setting the right atmosphere for a sleepover in his flat; from the hall he could already see the absolutely terrific amount of blankets and pillows lying on the sofa, prepared for them.

Aziraphale apparently had followed Crowley’s gaze with his own and noticed what he was looking at, because he said, “How are you liking it?”

Crowley grinned. “S’great!”

“I was also thinking we could make biscuits together.”

“Ah, that’s a good idea! Although I did buy a pack already,” Crowley said and fiddled with the shopping bag to bring out the biscuits.

“Oh.” At first Aziraphale gave them a wary glance, but then brightened. “These are my favourite!”

A funny feeling made its way into Crowley heart. “I know,” he responded truthfully.

Aziraphale gave him a soft smile. “Oh, you sweetheart,” he murmured.

“I’m not!” Crowley protested, but his cheeks burned already, and it would be impossible for him to deny that he didn’t like the compliment. Oh, if it only were someone else calling him that, he couldn’t care less. But the way Aziraphale spoke those words so tenderly, and goodness, Crowley would like to be his sweetheart.

“Nevertheless, I assume those are not going to be an obstacle in my plans of baking?” Aziraphale asked, apparently not noticing or caring about Crowley’s reaction.

“F’course not.”

Aziraphale gave him a little shy smile to that. “I have all the ingredients already prepared if you’re wondering. And I found a lovely recipe!”

“Nice! As you can see I also bought other snacks.” Crowley raised a hand with his shopping bag full of food. “We can also order in, what do you think?”

“Maybe after the biscuits?”

“Sure.”

Aziraphale beamed and grabbed Crowley by his hand. “Come on, we have some work to do!”

They found themselves in the kitchen, the counter already filled with the needed goods and utensils.

“Here,” Aziraphale said pointing at a piece of paper which lie before them. “A recipe for strawberry jam drops.”

Crowley grinned. “Let’s begin!”

“Yes, let’s! Although we should probably start by washing our hands.”

They did. And then the baking began. They determined that they would both take turns in the process, first Aziraphale would do the initial few steps of the recipe, and then Crowley would, and then together they would form the dough into the desired shape. Strawberry jam drops were mostly simple to make and so they had expected for everything to go as planned.

Aziraphale was admittedly agreeably good at baking. Crowley knew that, kind of, he had a few chances of trying his baked goods already, but he had never seen him during the process. And he was so bloody cute while doing so. He kept giving little huffs and tutting at the disobedient ingredients and humming a song while preparing everything. And really it was all so adorable.

Crowley was definitely not doing as well as Aziraphale had been. And when he finally accomplished all the steps of the process the dough was looking nothing alike as the one described in the recipe.

“What the hell,” he muttered under his breath, trying to fix the thing. “What hell is happening,” he said a little louder drawing Aziraphale’s attention who was currently cleaning up the oven.

His friend glimpsed at the contents of the bowl. “Oh dear,” he said. “That was not supposed to look like this.”

“I know,” Crowley lamented.

“Let me have a look at what I can do.”

Crowley allowed Aziraphale to take over the bowl and stared as his friend attempted to be the saviour of the pathetic looking dough.

“I failed us, didn’t I? I ruined your perfectly fine dough,” Crowley said, petulance leaking from his tone.

“Don’t be silly. I’m sure I can still salvage it. Just explain your process to me.”

Crowley sighed, trying to remember the exact steps he took and find an error in any of the stages. “At first I put in the egg, beat it, then the flour and the baking powder and beat it again.”

“Everything seems fine.” Aziraphale frowned in contemplation. “Maybe you didn’t beat it for long enough?” he suggested.

Crowley groaned. “Of course I didn’t beat it for long enough! It’s probably that!”

Aziraphale gave him a good-natured look, gently placing his palm against Crowley’s arm. “Well, I’ll just continue with that then and I’m sure it’ll be all just fine,” he said cheerfully.

“Why are you so calm about this?”

“I have a better question, why are you so disturbed by this?”

“Gnh.”

“These are just biscuits. If we won’t succeed then I suppose we simply won’t. That happens all the time,” explained Aziraphale, his soothing touch still lingering on Crowley’s arm.

“But we spent half an hour making these already.”

“Yes, and I had a lot of fun. And did you not?”

Crowley huffed. “Only ‘cos you’re here.”

Aziraphale stared at him for a good few seconds, seemingly for no reason, looking a bit enchanted. “You too, make this experience much better,” he murmured, and then gave Crowley a shy smile. “And anyway that’s exactly what I meant. That it isn’t all about the outcome.”

“But about ‘the friends we made along the way’?” enquired Crowley, baring his teeth in a grin.

Aziraphale chuckled. “Yes, precisely.”

Somehow, the dough was salvageable. At least Aziraphale had been able to save it, because if Crowley tried getting close to that poor thing it probably wouldn’t have ended well.  

Then the operation of forming and filling the biscuits with jam came and then putting them in the oven and finally Aziraphale and Crowley were able to rest.

“How are you feeling, dear? Do you think we should be positive they’ll come out good?” asked Aziraphale, giving Crowley a curious glance.

“Yeah, probably. With your talent for baking and saving that foul dough, I guess we will.”

“Oh, how you like being dramatic.”

“I’m kind of famous for that, actually.”

They waited a few more minutes, until the oven’s clock did a soft “ding” announcing the end of baking.

“At last,” Aziraphale triumphed. “Our biscuits are done!” The baking tray he pulled out of the oven was emanating with a delicate scent of fresh baked goods. “I think we can be proud of ourselves, they do look very scrumptious, and not at all burnt.”

Crowley nodded. “Obviously, I had no doubts about our success.”

Aziraphale made a face. “Not even when you panicked over some bad-looking dough? No doubts at all?”

“Ehm, that was simply a moment of weakness.”

“I’m sure.”

“Now we get them on a plate and eat them, yeah? This part is definitely impossible to mess up.” He got his hands on the tray already when Aziraphale shooed him away.

“First we need to let them cool, my dear fellow. Don’t touch them, they’re hot!” he warned.

“Ugh, I waited so long already,” Crowley lamented, but stepped back, allowing his friend to put the tray on the counter. And when the biscuits seemed agreeable at last, Aziraphale was the first to take one.

He closed his eyes in bliss, humming softly. “Goodness, they’re delightful.”

Crowley rested his chin on his hand, staring at his friend, and feeling his own features soften at the sight. He could admire him for ages if Aziraphale would only let him, and if he’d give himself the permission too.

Aziraphale held another one of the biscuits up. “You too should have a try,” he said, brining it closer to Crowley’s lips.

“I…” It was very obvious that the biscuit was meant to wander straight from hand to the mouth, and Crowley wasn’t sure he was brave enough for that. He stared at it for a good few seconds until he hadn’t convinced himself that there was nothing to be scared of, because after all it was just Aziraphale here and Aziraphale was his best friend. Finally he ducked his head forward and accepted the biscuit with his teeth. When his lips brushed lightly against the tips of Aziraphale’s finger he backed away hastily with a blush growing on his cheeks. He busied himself with chewing the biscuit, hoping he appeared cooler than he currently felt. A glance at Aziraphale revealed his hopeful stare directed right at Crowley. “So, what do you think?”

“It’s alr- I mean, it’s nice angel, ehm- Aziraphale, of course.”

An adorable giggle brought itself out of Aziraphale.

Crowley’s face reddened even more. “What’s so funny?”

“You, dear, you are.”

“And what exactly is so funny about me?”

“Nothing, don’t worry.”

“I don’t know, it doesn’t really reassure me when you tell me I’m funny and then refuse to answer why.”

Face full of amusement was the only thing he got as a response. Aziraphale brought up the platter full of their biscuits up. “How about one more?” he suggested.

Crowley seized him with a look and shook his head slowly trying to indicate that he was not at all pleased with his friend making fun of him. He took a biscuit though.

They moved to the living room then, to enjoy some more rest, and savour their hard worked on baked goods. The snacks were finally brought out and it seemed that it was just the right time to have the film-watching part of the sleepover.

“What should we watch, do you think?” Crowley asked, idly swinging his leg as he sprawled himself on the sofa. “I think it’s time for that now, eh?”

Aziraphale nodded in agreement. “I have a couple of DVDs, so we can choose something from that.”

Crowley made a face. “DVDs? You don't have Netflix, Aziraphale?”

“Of course I don't, I would get barely any use out of it, I don't watch films very often.”

“Okay, that makes sense, but still DVDs? Also what is the TV for then?”

“DVDs are nice,” Aziraphale stated firmly. “And I need the TV to play them.”

“An entire TV just for that?”

“Yes.”

“Can I have a look at them then?” Crowley asked, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea of only using DVDs to watch films, when there were so many other options that surely were more convenient.

“Sure, they're on that shelf near the TV.”

“Thanks.” Crowley jumped up and found the collection of faintly withered DVDs. He looked through them all, searching for something that even remotely caught his eye. At last his gaze landed on the nineteen-fifty-two classic musical “Singin’ in the rain”. He pulled it from the shelf and held up. “What about that?”

Aziraphale brightened. “Oh, I haven't watched in some time and it's definitely lovely.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, I think this should do.”

Crowley grinned. “Great! We have the film picked faster than I thought we will, I suppose these are some perks of not having Netflix and a huge variety of choices.” He opened the box carefully, his eyes landing on the disc. “Now where do I put it.”

Aziraphale joined him, standing up. “Wait, I’ll help you.”

He found the DVD player and fiddled with some buttons until a small slot didn’t emerge from inside it.

“How do I put it now?” Crowley muttered, while trying to put the disk into the slot upside down.

“Don’t you know?”

“Uh-huh.”

Aziraphale halted in motion. “Crowley, you were around when DVDs were in general use. Why do you keep acting like you have no idea how to use them?”

“Because it’s fun,” Crowley replied and grinned cheekily at Aziraphale.

“What’s so fun about this?”

“Seeing you all huffed.”

“Oh, you foul creature. Come on, it’s easy.” Aziraphale snatched the DVD from Crowley’s hand, which was met with a scowl, and placed it into the DVD player gently. Upon pushing the slot back to the device it began making noises and soon the screen was filled with picture.

Aziraphale smiled at the imagine depicting the title screen and settled himself on a chair standing nearby.

“Finally!” Crowley fell on the sofa, throwing his arms behind his head. “Come’er, Aziraphale,” he insisted. “What the hell are you doing on that chair, here’s more comfortable.”

“I don’t want take up your space. Besides I’m doing quite alright here.”

“My space? This is your sofa. I don’t need that much space,” he said and pointedly moved at bit to his left to make more room for another person.

“Alright, dear.” Aziraphale stood up and upon approaching the sofa he sat next to Crowley. “I don’t see why, but I also don’t see why not.”

“What do you mean why? I said, you have to be comfy as well.”

Aziraphale gave him a small smile. “I suppose you’re right,” he said and relaxed.

Crowley’s stomach tensed a little when he felt Aziraphale’s presence next to him, but he knew he couldn’t deny himself the indulgence in feeling a little contented with that.

“Also, I like you being next to me,” Crowley murmured, hoping his voice hadn’t wavered too much as he did so. It was a stupidity to admit so, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Oh, yes?” Aziraphale’s eyes shone.

“Nhhh, yes f’course.”

“So my personal space is also my best friend’s personal space?”

Crowley couldn’t help but smirk. “If you want it to be.”

Aziraphale smiled with amusement. “Actually, I do not mind that at all.”

They grinned at each other like fools. Ugh, Crowley loved being a fool with Aziraphale. But then the film began so their eyes had to be occupied with something else.

“If singing and dancing in public would be more socially acceptable the world would be so much better,” Crowley muttered à propos their activity.

That earned with a thoughtful frown. “It really wouldn’t be, imagine all the cacophony, different people trying to sing different songs at the same time, a total mess!”

“Maybe you’re right,” mused Crowley. “But would you do that with me?”

“What, my dear?”

“Make a musical together. In public.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Up to consideration. But I suppose what wouldn’t I do for my best friend?”

That earned him a grin. “Right, you did sing for me once.”

“I do not wish to remember that event.”

Crowley just cackled and allowed himself to turn his attention to the screen.

Slowly as the film progressed, he let himself sprawl a bit more, taking up more space than previously, his arm pressed to Aziraphale’s side.

On the screen Don and Cosmo currently bothered their elocution teacher, mocking him, singing and dancing.

“That’s the best scene.” Crowley said between chuckles.

Aziraphale giggled. “It is funny.”

“As a kid I’ve always wanted to tap dance like they did here.”

Aziraphale hummed softly to that. “It’s never too late to obtain new skills.”

Crowley pictured himself tap dancing and made a face at that mental image. “But now, as I think about it, it’s certainly fun to look at, but is it as fun to do so?”

“That I can’t tell you, my dear.”

Aziraphale made delicate sighs at the more romantic songs.

“This song is so dear to my heart,” he said as the titular “Singin’ in the rain” was sang. “Isn’t it so lovely?”

“I guess,” Crowley muttered, the music tempering with his heart. He was so much closer to Aziraphale now, he could feel his scent, his head nearly on his shoulder. And really this song only made everything much worse, made him yearn so much more. For that closeness that was so near and at the same time so out of reach.

He nearly chocked on his heart when Aziraphale, seemingly noticing their proximity to one another, decided to close the gap between them by drawing closer in Crowley’s direction. At first he tensed, but as soon as he realised how much Aziraphale seemed snug in this position he relaxed, and decided to not let himself panic about the situation for the rest of the film.

The plot went more quickly than Crowley remembered for it to go, and Lina sang a song already, or rather she pretended to, Kathy by the microphone filling every movement of Lina’s mouth with voice. He had his head settled on Aziraphale's chest. It didn't matter how that happen. At first it was just on his shoulder, but then suddenly whoops, and they were practically cuddling. Crowley was very much contented with the fact that their physical affections were back but had no idea how he’d allowed himself on this sort of frivolity. But he supposed it was because Aziraphale had allowed him too. Well, not only allowed but took part in contributing to the action. He had always been like that, he had always loved physical contact with all of his friends. After all, Crowley had already seen him hugging every soul he’d ever befriended as if it was an automatic reaction.

Aziraphale was very focused, absorbing every bit of the film, and maybe Crowley would too fully enjoy it if there wasn't such an obvious distraction cuddled together with him.

“They met as you and I, and they were only friends,” Kathy sang.

The words of that song hit uncomfortably close to home. Crowley was also friends with someone he cared for very much. The most beautiful being he had a pleasure to know, who was currently so very close to him. He couldn't take his eyes of Aziraphale. He couldn’t stop staring like the bloody lovesick fool he was. Aziraphale curls were like a halo of an angel, his small perfect smile was the sweetest thing there was, and his lovely eyes, currently reflecting the light from the screen, like the reflection of the sky. Crowley’s chest hurt of how much he adored him.

“But before the story ends...”

The story hadn’t ended for them either, when Crowley had thought it had. And that was a miracle, wasn’t it? He could’ve had no more Aziraphale in his life, no more curls nor smiles nor pretty eyes. And no more of his best friend. What would he do without him?

“He'll kiss her with a sigh. Would you? Would you? And if the girl were I. Would you? Would you?”

But in the end the real problem wasn't the fact that he couldn't have Aziraphale. Pining was painful, yes. But what was more painful was a perspective of once again losing his friend, losing the loveliest friendship he had in his entire lifetime, just because he had to fall for him, that he couldn't permit.

“And would you dare to say, let's do the same as they. I would, would you?”

Crowley could never tell Aziraphale, he had to keep this a secret and love his friend as much as he only could, show him as much affection as could. But only in a friendly way, it didn’t matter that at the same time he wanted to kiss him.

Aziraphale shifted under him. The sudden movement causing Crowley to quickly avert his eyes from his friend and towards the screen, feeling guilty at the thoughts that were still lingering in his mind. Especially at that about kissing. That one didn’t do, at all.

As the film was coming to an end, and the end credits showed up on the screen, they both moved to look at each other.

“So, you liked it, didn’t you?” asked Aziraphale, his face still lit up in captivation.

“Of course, I liked it. It’s not as if I’m watching it for the first time, and it’s a classic.”

“Oh well, yes, it’s so terribly lovely. And so romantic.”

Crowley gulped. “Yeah, romantic.”

They stared at each other, remaining incredibly close. It felt as if those blue eyes were attempting to tell Crowley something, something that Aziraphale was unwilling, or simply too timid to. But Crowley could’ve as well been making that up. Then Aziraphale leaned slightly further, and Crowley’s heart picked up on speed. His fingers tangled in Aziraphale’s shirt and unintentionally pulled him nearer.

“Angel?” he breathed out. “Gnh, Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale recoiled, his cheeks reddening. “I apologise.”

“What for?” Crowley breathed.

“For… I don’t know,” Aziraphale replied, after a moment of reflection. “It just felt as if I should apologise.”

Crowley sat up. The proximity he was in with his friend for the past hour was most definitely too small and it made him irrational and a tad dizzy. “Maybe we’re both tired, hmm?”

“That would be a correct answer to that, I should think,” Aziraphale replied with a disconcerted smile.

Crowley caught himself yawning. “Huh, it’s already showing.”

Aziraphale yawned too. “Oh, and it’s contagious.”

They both giggled.

“It’s high time to go to bed, methinks,” murmured Aziraphale. “I suppose there will be no talking until three am.”

Crowley pouted. “Mmm, not good. I wanted to,” he muttered sleepily. His head wandered without his will onto Aziraphale’s shoulder once again. Now, that he had uttered the words out loud he could feel that he was in fact rather tired, definitely too tired to let go off his friend. Thankfully, Aziraphale seemed to have nothing against that. Although after a few minutes they both had to let go reluctantly, because Aziraphale announced he had to go, under the pretence that he had to change to his pyjama.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Crowley couldn’t help a fond smile showing up on his face. “Is that bloody tartan?”

“Yes,” said Aziraphale archly. “Do you have something against it?”

“Maybe.” Maybe he did, maybe he did dislike tartan. But then why did Aziraphale look so cute in that pyjama? The way it made him look so much cuddlier, the way Crowley wanted to be buried in his arms like he got to be not five minutes ago. Somehow he regretted the fact that they hadn’t changed into pyjamas sooner.  

Aziraphale scowled. “Tartan is stylish.”

“Says you and you only,” Crowley muttered, but a feeling of fondness was still lingering in his heart.

He proceeded to change as well, into his not tartan and very stylish black silky pyjama, to then find Aziraphale before the entrance to his bedroom waiting for him.

“Well, I suppose we are going to sleep then,” he said softly when he spotted Crowley.

“I’m gonna sleep on the sofa of course,” Crowley announced before Aziraphale could present any other idea that would involve indulging Crowley without considering himself.
“Oh, no, my dear fellow, that absolutely won’t do,” Aziraphale protested immediately.

“Why?”

“Because the sofa is way too small for a grown man to sleep on it. Your spine will hurt.”

“My spine is already an… interesting thing. Don’t worry about it.”

“I said ‘no’!”

Crowley tsked. “So how do you suggest we sleep?”

“I’ll take the sofa, and you’ll take my bed.”

That earned him a shake of Crowley’s head. “Wasn’t that you who said that it’s too small for a grown man to sleep on? Are you not a grown man?”

“Well, yes dear, but you’re a guest.”

“You’re not sleeping on the sofa.”

“Then I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is that a threat?”

“Yes.”

Crowley threw his hands up in resignation. “Then I have no idea how to solve this dilemma.”

For a second they both stood silent, wrecking their brain for an idea.

Then, Aziraphale’s face light up in a realisation and just after that it suddenly grew red. “Well, I suppose…” he murmured, his voice full of hesitance.

“You suppose what?”

“I suppose the bed is big enough for two people…”

Crowley’s heart gave thump. “Oh.”

“Only if you’d be comfortable with it,” Aziraphale let out hastily.

Comfortability was another thing, not a very important one. The better question was, would Crowley be able to even sleep in that arrangement? “I guess we hug and… we cuddle too kinda, so sleeping next to each other is not like a big thing, yeah?” he said unconfinedly.

Aziraphale gave a short nod, but he remained looking uncertain. Crowley could see why, really, it must have been the same thing that had happened after their first kiss, he probably feared he would give Crowley false signs of romantic interest or whatnot. But Crowley was no idiot, he knew that it wasn’t rare for friends to sleep in one bed. Well, maybe it didn’t happened so often with adults as it did with kids, who were generally more oblivious to implications that grown-ups added to beds and two people in them, but it certainly did from time to time. And so it didn’t have to be a problem now. Unless, of course, Aziraphale wasn’t feeling it. That ruled the notion out entirely.  

“We don’t have to…” Crowley muttered.

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” Aziraphale assured. “That was my idea after all. And it does solve our problem.”

Crowley stared. “Okay,” he said without an ounce of confidence. “We can…” He gestured at the entrance of the room. He earnestly tried to make the situation, that in all seriousness shouldn’t be this flustering, feel a bit lighter. He gave Aziraphale a small unsure smile. Aziraphale smiled back, equally unsurely.

They stood awkwardly in the doorway of the bedroom. Neither of them daring to come in first. And when they finally decided upon taking a step forward, they did at the same time, colliding with each other. They both laughed nervously, then went in.

The bedroom was not a terribly sparce room, but definitely a cosy one. The walls were covered with bookshelves, which were, of course, filled with a countless amount of books, and at the centre of everything stood a comfy looking bed covered in a tartan blanket. The latter made Crowley chuckle.

“You sleep with double tartan?” he asked, feeling a need to shift the atmosphere to a more lightsome one.

“Yes, I do,” admitted Aziraphale, still proudly. “And I’m not taking criticism on that.”

Crowley approached the bed, taking a seat at its’ hem. “No criticism from my side.”

“No?” Aziraphale asked, almost surprised. “I thought you disliked it.”

“Yeah, I do, I would personally never put tartan on anything, but like, it’s cute when you do that. Have your own little pattern and put it on everything.”

“Cute?” whispered Aziraphale. He was blushing, Crowley noticed. Was the word “cute” crossing the line of friendly or what? Was it too much? Crowley hadn’t mean it as too much. He didn’t really care as which it passed, the most important bit being not making Aziraphale uncomfortable.

“Yeah, it’s cute,” he said firmly.

A smile that soothed Crowley’s worries graced Aziraphale’s face. It was shy, but gleeful. A confirmation of Aziraphale’s contentment, so everything Crowley needed.

They both climbed on the bed, Crowley taking the left and Aziraphale right side of it. Before laying down, they gave each other an uncertain glance, Crowley was still contemplating how to feel about the situation. And when the lights finally got turned off, the tense silence that descended made him feel helpless.

He was very aware of the fact that Aziraphale was right beside him, lying motionless. And that if he wanted to he could move just a little bit to the side to feel his warmth. And really, he could feel some of it already, and he could hear the soft sound of his breath. It was melting him, making his heart to beat faster. But he had to calm down, for it only felt ridiculous.

His pondering was stopped when he heard his name being spoken.

“Crowley, dear?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are we so nervous about this?” The tone of Aziraphale’s voice revealed that he was smiling.

And Aziraphale had never been more right to be questioning this, so Crowley giggled. “I have no idea.”

He turned to look at his friend, who’s eyes were likewise locked on him. “What happened to my personal space is my best friend’s personal space policy?”

“We certainly must think of that one more often,” agreed Aziraphale.

Crowley huffed, amused. “I guess we should. Although I think it only works when both parties are perfectly comfortable with it.”

He felt a hand on his arm, fingers brushing his elbow. “I’m always comfortable with you, dear. I hope you are too.”

Crowley couldn’t help but blush lightly when he felt the touch. “F’course,” he murmured. “F’course.”

After that exchange Crowley relaxed, letting his limbs sprawl a little more. Him and Aziraphale didn’t get much closer, but their arms were definitely brushing. They simply lay for a few minutes. The moon providing light from behind the window was illuminating the room ever so slightly, and it was soothing like nothing else could be. They probably would’ve fallen asleep but then a very random thought came to Crowley’s mind, something he’d always wanted to know. “Why didn’t you ever give me your phone number?” he asked, lifting his head up to have a better look at his friend.

Aziraphale gave him a confused hum. “I’m sorry?”

“When we were kids, I mean, why didn’t you?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“Yes, but I asked first,” Crowley countered.

Aziraphale glanced at him, perplexed. “Well, I suppose, I was worried you wouldn’t want it.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I thought I’m going to be too much, if I did. I was just too nervous to ask. You know how it is when you have a crush on someone.”

“Yeah, I do,” Crowley said, looking at him thoughtfully. A crush, a crush. Yeah, of course Aziraphale used to have a crush on him. Although that notion seemed so distant now. “I didn’t give you mine, because of the same stupid reason.”

Aziraphale smiled amusedly. “So it seems we were both idiots.”

Crowley nodded, smiling back. “So it seems.”

And aren’t we still? he thought as he settled his head back on his pillow. And aren’t I still?

They chatted more, because in the end, having each other so near kind of obligated them to do so. It was about the most random things, weird fun facts, the events that happened to them during the day, so all the usual stuff. At night, when no one was in a hurry, time passed differently, maybe half an hour had passed or maybe two hours. They couldn’t care less.

But at last Crowley asked, not really because he wanted to know, but because a silly idea was brewing in his mind. “What hour is it?”

Aziraphale turned around to get a look at the alarm clock that was standing on his bedside table. “Around half past one,” he declared.

“This calls for a song.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Crowley grinned cheekily at Aziraphale’s baffelment. “A song, Aziraphale.”

“Yes?”

“Good morning, good morning, we’ve talked the whole night through,” Crowley sing-songed.

Aziraphale’s amused smile was visible even in the darkness. “Not yet, my dear. It’s not even close to morning.”

“Good morning, good morning to you,” Crowley continued, ignoring him.

Aziraphale giggled. “Good morning, good morning, it’s great to stay up late. Good morning, good morning to you,” he responded sleepily.

Crowley opened his mouth to carry on with the song but found himself unable to. “Honestly I don’t remember the rest of the lyrics,” he muttered, disappointed.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes fondly. “Maybe that’s for the best. We do need to sleep.”

“Nahh. Weren’t we supposed to make our life a musical or whatnot?”

“Good night, my dear,” said Aziraphale firmly.

Crowley was about to protest but then he realised how heavy his eyelids were. He sighed. “G’night,” he replied and laid one last wistful glance on his lovely friend. He was surely going to think about him a lot tonight. But when he closed his eyes he fell asleep more quickly than he anticipated.

~*~

In the end, life was no romantic comedy, or a romance book, so they did not wake up cuddled in each other’s arms or anything of that kind. Quite the contrary, when Crowley had opened his eyes he realised they were exactly at the opposite sides of the bed and that he was nearly falling off of it. They hadn’t sung a single song either, so their little journey of making their lives a musical was unsuccessful as well.

Still, waking up next to Aziraphale and then oh, so domestically making breakfast with him, had been probably one of the best moments Crowley had ever experienced.

Chapter Text

The bell over the door rang as a new customer entered the shop, pulling Crowley out of concentration he had been in. A new variety of flowers had been delivered to the shop this morning and along with Mr. Shirley he had been arranging a display. But as soon as the noise interrupted Crowley, he paused his work. “I’m coming,” he called towards the waiting customer and as swiftly as he could, produced himself behind the counter. “How can I-” he began, but quickly halted himself mid-sentence. “Oh,” he let out, when he noticed who was standing before him.

Aziraphale smiled. “Good morning, my dear,” he greeted warmly.

“What- what are you doing here?” Crowley asked frowning. “Can I help you with anything?” Aziraphale had been informed and well knew where Crowley worked, but he had never visited before, and not because he didn’t want to, but usually his working hours were similar, or he simply had no time. For those reasons primarily his sight was a certain surprise.

“I simply came to say hello,” Aziraphale explained brightly, but after those words his voice gained a bit of wariness. “I hope I’m not disturbing.”

“Hello Aziraphale to you too.”

That earned Crowley a lovely beam.

“About disturbing, I mean, you kind of are...”

“Oh, no.”

“…but it’s welcome,” Crowley assured.  

Aziraphale sighed a sigh of relief, but he remained sheepish. “Might be by you, but is it by your employer?”

Crowley leaned on the counter, his palms pressed to its surface, wandering closer in Aziraphale’s direction. “A few seconds of my time won’t change a thing,” he replied, less convinced that it was generally true, more simply aware that Shirleys wouldn’t care.

On a different note, seeing Aziraphale at his workplace was a… weird view to say the least. He didn’t belong to this site. The usual places of their rendezvous were an entirely different world to this one, took a different time of Crowley’s day. And seeing it mixed together like that left a peculiar feeling. Although Crowley wouldn’t mind introducing Aziraphale to every aspect of his life, and every site of it. 

Crowley’s hand slid now further down the counter making contact with Aziraphale’s which had been resting there the whole time.

Mr. Shirley emerged from the back of the shop, and upon coming up to Crowley he leaned to mutter, “Anthony, when you’re done with helping the customer could you please take those peonies over there…?”

Crowley cleared his throat. “Actually, not a customer.”

Mr. Shirely frowned. “Then who…?”

“My friend,” Crowley replied with a sheepish smile.

Aziraphale turned to look at Mr. Shirley and his face twisted in embarrassment. “I really do apologise for taking Crowley’s time. I promise I’ll see myself out in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

Mr. Shirley stopped him by placing a hand on his forearm. “There’s no need for that,” he assured. “A friend of Anthony’s, are you?”

“Yes, well… Oh, where are my manners?” Aziraphale offered a hand. “Aziraphale Fell.”

“Richard Shirely.” Mr. Shirley shook Aziraphale’s hand firmly. “Anthony’s practically family to us, so any of his friends is also my and my wife’s friend.”

Aziraphale smiled at him warmly. “That’s very sweet. I’m glad I’ve been able to meet you.”

The two men beamed at each other and Crowley felt as if two of his heretofore separated worlds just formed a union. He stuffed his hands in his always too small pockets observing that revolutionary event.

Aziraphale must’ve noticed the sudden lack of contact between their fingers that had remined until now, because he turned his eyes at Crowley. Then jolted as if in a realisation.

“Oh, Crowley, dear, I nearly forgot that I brought you something,” he said and pulled out a paper bag to slide it through the counter.

Crowley stared at the delivery. The bag was without a doubt from a bakery, with that logo resembling a loaf of bread and all that. “Is that food?”

“Yes, dear, a pastry from the nearby bakery,” admitted Aziraphale, for a second turning sheepish once more. “I hope it’s not too much.”

“Too much? Nahh, just surprising.” Why would Aziraphale suddenly decide that he must appear here and bring him something to eat? Not like it was not a very Aziraphale thing to do, but simply never occurred before and Crowley had no idea why it occurred now.

Aziraphale nodded thoughtfully. “That was Anathema’s idea, actually.”

“Anathema’s? When the hell did you talk with her?”

Since Aziraphale had begun frequenting Crowley’s place, for the past few months, Anathema had slowly started to realise how present he would be in her flatmate’s life now. She had no aversions toward befriending new people, so she quickly found the common ground with Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was likewise aware of her place in Crowley’s life, and he very happily accepted her as his new friend.

“So, that was a funny story actually. Dear Anathema was apparently fairly enamoured by the scones that I brought to your place last week, because she called me this morning specifically asking for the recipe. I, of course, did her a favour of revealing it to her, but then our conversation lengthened, and I mentioned that I will probably be passing near this flower shop today. At that she suddenly got very insistent that I ought to pass you something from a bakery, because apparently you haven’t eaten your breakfast today and took no food with yourself for lunch.” At that he seized Crowley with a look. “Is that so, my dear?”

“Ugh.”

“Well, so I decided that that won’t do and bought you something,” Aziraphale explained. “It’s pain au chocolat, I know you like it.”

“You mean a chocolate croissant?”

“That’s not a croiss- nevermind, just please eat it. If we began this debate I’m afraid it wouldn’t end well.”

Crowley stared at the delivery with hesitation. “Are you sure?”

Aziraphale scowled and pushed the bag further away from himself. “Crowley, I’m begging you not to be silly.”

“Listen to your friend, Anthony,” Mr. Shirley cut in, his voice rigid.

“Gnh,” Crowley, oh, so usefully replied. “I can buy myself a thing,” he muttered. “Besides you like chocolate croissants too.”

Aziraphale didn’t respond at first, only gave a heavy sigh that clearly indicated frustration. “You’re accepting this, and I hope I will not receive any other answer.”

“Nuh-uh,” Crowley said and attempted to give the bag back to his friend.

But then Aziraphale took a huge step back and now was completely out of Crowley’s reach. “Actually, I’m quite in a rush,” he said. “I’m afraid you have to take it, because otherwise you will waste too much of my time by returning the food.”

“Hey!” Crowley grabbed the pastry and attempted at chasing him through the shop, but a ding of a doorbell later and Aziraphale was gone. He let out a sigh.

“What a nice man,” Mr. Shirley commented from behind him.

Crowley turned around, flushing. “Isn’t he just?”

“Why would you want to refuse his offering for you?”

A hesitant glance at the bag Crowley was still bearing, and he found himself unable to find a straight answer to that question. “He’s just way too kind to me.”

“As you deserve, Anthony.”

Crowley sighed. “Maybe,” he replied unsurely.

Mr. Shirley didn’t seem pleased with his answer. “Besides, you should’ve told me you haven’t eaten anything else, me or Beth would make you something.”

“Honestly I kind of forgot about eating today,” Crowley attempted an explanation. “Like I remembered it in the morning, but then I got busy with all of those flower arrangement the thought totally flew away from me.”

Mr. Shirley shook his head in discontent. “We’re going to have to do something about that.”

“But first the peonies?”

“First the peonies.”

~*~

As soon as Crowley whipped into his flat he confronted Anathema. “What was that in the morning?” he asked, spotting her innocently sitting on the sofa and tapping something on her phone.

She raised her head to look at him. “What? You mean Aziraphale coming by the shop?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “You made him buy me food?”

“Yes I did,” she said, her voice filled with irritation. “What? Would you rather starve?”

“No! But you shouldn’t have bothered him.”

“He and I both are friends of yours and we care about you Crowley, okay?”

Crowley sighed. “You could’ve just told him to tell me to eat or something, not send him on a bloody mission to waste his money on me.”

She opened her mouth in disbelief and then scowled. “Crowley, do you hear yourself right now? He’s your best friend, he cares, if I would tell him to just tell you he would probably buy something anyway.”

Crowley sat on the sofa in resignation. “Why are you right?”

Anathema pulled up closer to him, giving him a very pointed look. “Because I know that he adores you.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Mm?” he let out sceptically.

“And the only reason you would accept the same favour from me without a protest and wouldn’t from him is because you adore him too. You don’t want to exploit his friendship because you fear that he’ll leave you.”

“Stop it!”

“Stop what? Being correct?”

“Crowley, I know you’re still tied to that situation from the past or whatever. I know I wasn’t there, and I can’t tell how intense it really was, but it’s obvious Aziraphale doesn’t care. Even if you consider it a slip up, he just wants to be friends with you again.” Why, oh, why had Crowley decided that informing Anathema of his every existing problem regarding his relation with Aziraphale was a good idea? Now, she only had more incriminating evidence against him.

He hid his face in his hands. “Damn it, I did kind of promise him to not keep reminiscing the past.”

“See, he understands it too. He knows it won’t be good for you both to consider it a major part of your relationship.”

Crowley looked up at her, feeling annoyed all of a sudden. “Oh, stop talking about relationships! This word is irritating.”

Anathema only frowned. “What? Is friendship not one?” Then a look of realisation dawned over her face. “Wait. You’re into him, aren’t you?”

Crowley’s jaw dropped in shock. “No. Wh- what the hell gave you that idea?”

Instead of answering she grinned, smugness emanating from her in waves. “I should’ve realised, now it all makes perfect sense.”

“Nothing makes perfect sense. You’re just making that up.”

“I foresaw that! I did!” she said, full of triumph in her voice.  

“You did not foresee a thing.”

“I will collect evidence, and you will not stand a chance at defending yourself,” she declared.

“Get over yourself.”

Anathema sticked out her tongue. How immature, really. “No,” she responded.

They sat opposite each other, both a bit cross. Although maybe Anathema was less cross and more simply smug, which was even more infuriating. What was even more infuriating was that she saw through him and was bloody right. But that didn’t mean Crowley wanted to admit to any feelings, because, without a doubt, she would become even more insufferable if he did.

Crowley kept the silence only to ensure she wasn’t going to get any other insane ideas about him, but alas he had to break it, because there was something else he wanted to talk about with her. “Uh, about doing stuff for friends, I was thinking…”

Anathema raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Aziraphale’s birthday is in two weeks…” he muttered, hoping that their previous discussion wouldn’t go in the way of his plans.

That just put her in a clear state of incredulity. “Hmm.”

“It’s his twenty fifth!”

“I understand you want me to help setting something up.”

“Maybe?” he asked hopefully. “I mean we would make it here obviously, so you will be there.”

“I will only agree to this if you also accept receiving kindness from him,” she said in a tone of voice that didn’t allow compromise.

Crowley pouted. “Not fair.”

“The opposite. That will be the fairest option.”

“Ngh. Why are you making everything so difficult?”

Anathema huffed, half surly, half amused. “It wouldn’t be difficult if you weren’t this obsessed with him.”

Crowley sighed, all stubbornness leaving him, spearing some place for resignation. “Alright, whatever you say. Just please help me?”

“Okay, but are you certain he likes surprises? Some folks are not so fond of them.”

“I probably should ask him.”

Now she raised both of her eyebrows. “Ask him if he wants a surprise birthday party?”

“No, you idiot! If he likes surprises.” Crowley pulled out his phone, looking at her pointedly and immediately got to typing a message.

what is ur opinion on surprises?

What an unexpected question.

Of course I am not very fond of the unpleasant one,

but I certainly don’t mind the nice ones.

cool

What surprise exactly are we talking about?

Crowley?

Crowley are you there?

“He says he doesn't mind,” Crowley said as soon as he received the response.

Anathema sighed, not seeming entirely displeased, but just a bit sceptical. “I’ll help you then,” she muttered.

~*~

Aziraphale had been informed beforehand to visit Crowley’s at the date of his birthday, but of course Crowley kept the invitation as vague as possible. He suspected that Aziraphale might suspect what it was all about, but in the grand scheme of things it didn’t matter, as the most important notion was for him to enjoy the whole affair.

Crowley was busy the whole day. Immediately after finishing work he rushed to the supermarket to buy food, a bottle of good wine, decorations and whatnot. Then to a patisserie, of course, to pick a nice cake. He knew that all Aziraphale really needed was a lovely evening with his friends, but adding a little festive touch to the occasion wouldn’t hurt.

When he got back home, he, along with Anathema, had to simply put everything on its place, including the decorations, the snacks and so on. The cake would be brought out later. And the only thing that was left was to wait patiently for the man of the moment.

~*~

At last Aziraphale came. When Crowley heard the doorbell his heart did a little happy jump, and he motioned for Anathema to get ready. She sent him a conspiratorial smile and then she went to open the door.

“Surprise!” they both exclaimed as their awaited guest entered.

Aziraphale’s hands fluttered to his mouth. “Dear me,” he let out.

Crowley practically flew in his friend’s direction. “Happy birthday!” he said then encircled his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders and lead him further to the flat. “Now, Aziraphale it is your birthday so you will be treated as a birthday person should be.”

“Oh, dear. Hopefully being treated as a birthday person means I get to have a nice chat or two with you both.”

Crowley grinned. “If that’s what you want then of course, right Anathema?”

“Correct.”

Aziraphale giggled. “You two give me no other option than to desperately adore you. And yes, that exactly what I want.”

“Then so shall be it,” agreed Crowley solemnly and pushed Aziraphale to sit on the sofa.

But his friend didn’t let him help him with being seated. “Before that I have some thanks to give.”

Crowley tsked, but Aziraphale was already hugging him and then proceeding to hug Anathema. “Thank you for such a lovely surprise,” he murmured, giving them both a look filled with fondness. “Really, you remembering about this occasion is enough for me and you went out of your way to prepare something… I couldn’t be more thankful.”

“Aww, it was our pleasure,” Anathema assured.

“So who was behind the idea?” Aziraphale asked. “Was it you Crowley?” He pointed, almost accusingly.

“Credit where it’s due. Yeah, it was Crowley,” Anathema answered.

“Let’s say I was,” Crowley agreed.

“Oh.” Aziraphale stared at him, a sparkle in his eyes. “I suppose I’ve suspected,” he admitted, and then drew nearer. “Come here, my dear,” he said, and without another word he trapped Crowley into a crushing hug. Crowley accepted it, hugging Aziraphale back and pouring all of his affections into the gesture.

Then he freezzed.

In was so brief and chaste it was definitely invisible to an onlooker, but Crowley felt it, and not only in the place it had landed, but most of all it had affected his heart.

Aziraphale had kissed him on the cheek.

His stood unable to move, his heart pounding violently against his ribs.

Goodness gracious, that was real kiss that he just got.

But it couldn’t be anything with a meaning that Crowley’s mind instantly jumped to, there was definitely nothing romantic about it. That was friendly kiss, because, Crowley reminded himself, Aziraphale liked friendly physical affection. They hugged, they cuddled, they held hands on occasions, hell they had even slept in one bed not a long time ago, all of that in a friendly manner. So a kiss on the cheek was also most definitely friendly. And Crowley could obviously accept it and appreciate it as such, he had nothing against friendly. Only it would definitely be easier if the gesture didn’t inspire so much unwanted emotions.

Aziraphale must’ve noticed his stiffness, because when he pulled a little back his eyes revealed consternation. Then he pulled Crowley into the hug yet again and asked softly, “Was that not too far?”

“No,” Crowley murmured back. “Not at all.”

“Good,” said now Aziraphale in a regular volume of his voice and finally freed Crowley from his arms.

“Thank you again, my dear.”

“No problem… angel.” This word escaped Crowley’s mouth as it always had, unexpectedly, and without his interference. He usually tried to avert it, pretend like it was a simple slip of his tongue, but this time his mouth refused to let out any more words out of them, dry and unable to move. He was too in shock.

He couldn’t bear it, the feelings that were flooding him at the moment at breakneck speed. He needed to a moment for himself, alone, to simmer down. He let out a shaky breath. “I think I gotta use the loo. Sorry,” he muttered and sent an apologetic glance towards Aziraphale.

“That’s quite alright, dear boy.”

Crowley rushed to the bathroom and hastily closed the door behind him, resting his back on them. “Damn it,” he murmured to himself. He touched his cheek, exactly were Aziraphale had kissed it. It felt as if it was not a second ago. His heart pounded so intensely he feared it might break free from his ribs and fall out on the floor.

Oh, he really was that smitten, totally lost for this world, so hopelessly in love with Aziraphale. There’s was no help for him.

Wait.

In love?

Couldn’t be…

Five minutes ago he’d called it a crush, a fancy, a mild inconvenience. But it wasn’t any mild, wasn’t it? It was intense and impossible to control. Of course, he was in love.

Damn it. That was even worse.

And now Aziraphale had kissed him. On the cheek, of course, which made a significant difference than if he would have kissed him on his lips.

Crowley shuddered. Those thoughts were only making everything harder to bear.

But could that kiss possibly mean something? Was there a chance that Aziraphale… Crowley shook his head. That was the last thing he needed, believing that his feelings were returned. It would only mess with him, provide him hope, to in the end leave him shattered.

He looked at himself in the mirror, his pupils wide, his face twisted in horror.

“He doesn’t like you like that,” he said, pointing at his reflection. “Do you understand? So stop getting your hopes up.” He stood, fiercely staring at himself.

Unfortunately the peptalk wasn't helping with the real main issue of the situation, so the bloody inloveness that Crowley had gotten into. He slid down against the wall, ending up on the floor, miserable and pathetic. "Why does he have to be so lovely then? Why? Why must he be the most gorgeous person I know?"

He had to go back, so to not rise any suspicions that this trip was more than a visit to the loo. The last thing he wanted was for Aziraphale to worry about him because of some silly kiss. The problem was that “silly” was the last word Crowley would use to describe it. “Earth-shattering” was a better pick in his opinion.

Crowley’s mind was a mess. But he really didn’t want or address it, clean it up or take it out right now. So he just swept it under a rug and let it be.

“There you are,” Aziraphale said as soon as Crowley showed up in the room. He and Anathema were already seated.

“I’ve just been telling him about our landlord,” said Anathema. “At least I began to.”

Crowley bared his teeth in a grin. That topic change was quite a relief for his poor heart. “Oh, you have no idea what a terror he is,” he threw in.

“Do tell,” Aziraphale said, with curiousness visible on his face.

“We call him the witch hunter,” Crowley said, not omitting to make his voice sound cryptically. He sat beside his friends on the sofa.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened in interest. “What earned him such gruesome title?”

“Oh, no, he is literally kind of a witch hunter...” Anathema explained.

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean he says he is. I’ve no idea what he means by that.”

“What an interesting man indeed.”

Crowley huffed in mirth. “Interesting is an understatement. He’s mind-boggling.”

“He once asked me how many nipples I had,” Anathema let out in a murmur as if she just had shared a secret.

“He did what?!”

“You’ve heard it right the first time,” said Crowley.

The face Aziraphale made at that was very telling.

“But the price of the rent was too tempting to refuse such an offer.”

“I hope you checked for any possible cameras,” Aziraphale remarked seriously.

“Yeah, yeah we did, but I don’t think he would actually have any use in these.”

Anathema nodded in agreement and then explained, “What’s actually quite funny is that I think he asked that question not because he’s a creep, but because he believes that having many nipples indicates that you’re a witch.”

Aziraphale blinked a few times partially in confusion and partially in pure dismay. “Out of nowhere I’m terribly concerned for this man’s mental health.”

“Well, I guess at least he has a wife to take care of him.”

“He has a wife?”

“He has a wife,” Crowley repeated, amused by Aziraphale’s reaction. “And she’s quite nice actually. But I’ve heard she works as a medium or something.”

“I’m beginning to put less and less credence in your story.”

“It’s true,” Anathema added, just as well full of mirth as Crowley was.

“I think I might be getting tricked here,” muttered Aziraphale looking between them both, full of suspicion.

Crowley grinned smugly. “To avoid you getting so obnoxiously getting lied to, we probably must change the conversation subject. What do you think Ana, because our guest seems majorly displeased.”

“Oh, no, dear, there’s no need for that,” Aziraphale tried to protest, but his pleads were not heard.

“Actually I have conversation topic I wanted to get to in quite a while,” Anathema said, her smirk mischievous.

Aziraphale smiled at that, apparently oblivious to the meaning of her behaviour. “Well, if you’re insistent,” he said.

“I would like to discuss Crowley,” she said, her grin widening. “Particularly the early years of your and his acquaintance.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale breathed out.

Crowley groaned in frustration. “See, I told you she’ll find a way to bring that up again!”

“Anything you’ve got to say? Some gossip? Any embarrassing crushes?”

Aziraphale paled then and exchanged a panicked glance with Crowley. “I don’t think so, no.”

“Oh, there must have been some,” Anathema insisted.

Aziraphale bit his lip, but then he adjusted his shoulders in a no joke sort of manner and gave them both a rather solemn look. “I assure you, dear, that none of the crushes of Crowley’s that he told me about were embarrassing. Perfectly respectable and lovely people, all of them.”

Despite the fact that frankly the general notion made Crowley low-key uncomfortable, especially that today really wasn’t the right time for it, it didn’t stop the laugh that came out of him at that moment. “Someone’s ego’s high, eh?”

At first Anathema glanced between them both, confusion painted on her face, but then she visibly caught up. She grinned. “Well, Aziraphale, Crowley told me you were a bit of a bastard and now I’m starting to notice why.”

“Only, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Aziraphale said, oh, so innocently. Crowley and Anathema laughed, while Aziraphale’s expression remined calm. “But I can assure you that Crowley had a very good taste in crushes.”

That got him another ripple of laughter.

That amount of talking about their feelings, Crowley could accept. At least for now, he would rather keep that topic to as brief level as possible. All just for the sake of a joke was okay, but if seriousness or genuinity got into the conversation, he wasn’t sure how would he feel about that.

“But come on, come on,” Anathema cut in. “I’m absolutely certain he embarrassed himself in front of you at least once.”

“He might’ve,” Aziraphale mused, “but even if so, I do not remember that at all.”

“See, I’m amazing, Ana.”

“You are not,” she turned her head towards him just to give him that answer, then swiftly looked back at Aziraphale. “I do not believe you that- that this someone,” she pointed at Crowley, “never embarrassed himself in his teenage years. Or how on earth could you forget about that happening.”

Aziraphale offered her a half amused, half gentle smile. “The solution to your question is quite simple. It’s because I had a crush on that certain someone.”

Crowley flushed, his mind locked on the word “crush”, but he reminded himself to keep in mind the past tense of the sentence.

Visibly oblivious to Crowley’s state, Aziraphale continued, “And that’s why I barely saw any of his flaws.”

Anathema’s eyes were wide in surprise. “Woah. You really are spilling so much tea today.”

“Didn’t Crowley tell you? I thought he did...” Now Aziraphale looked all embarrassed, as if he had just revealed some dark secret or something of that kind.

“Yeah, he did.”

Aziraphale let out an exhale full of relief. “Ah, that's good. So you know about...” He gestured between himself and Crowley.

“Yeah.”

Crowley began to slowly hate how the conversation got such an awful and rather uncomfortable, to say the least, turn. He would rather Aziraphale and Anathema finish it on their own, not having to have him present for its development.  

“Aw. There’s no more crisps in the bowl,” he muttered, pointedly capsizing the dish. “I should probably bring some more.”

Aziraphale looked a bit taken aback by that sudden comment but as Crowley didn’t get any clear protests to it, he let himself stroll to the kitchen to fill the bowl anew and have nice little break. Why the hell today required so many breaks? He had no idea. It could have something to do with him being a bit of a tired idiot in love.

It turned out the bag of crips was mostly empty as well, not close to enough to fill the bowl and make it look any presentable, so he opted for just eating the rest himself in the kitchen.

When he finally choose to go back to the living room, the topic changed. But he still was unable to focus, his mind too preoccupied with the matter that had come up previously.

For some time they talked about some not very noteworthy things and Crowley was able to zone out to a level of his liking. But it was Anathema poking him that pulled him out of his thoughts. She was making some weird faces at him and at first he hadn’t quite grasped the meaning of them but soon he understood. Anathema gestured conspiratorially towards the kitchen’s entrance. He nodded ever so slightly, hoping Aziraphale couldn’t see their brief exchange.

Anathema stood up, sending Crowley a wink. “I’ll be back in a sec,” she said and vanished in the kitchen.

That left Crowley and Aziraphale alone. It could be great with them together as it had always been. But today Crowley had had just a little bit too much of his feelings being talked about. That was the reason why he couldn’t help but feel a little awkward.

Aziraphale must’ve noticed his gloomy mood, because immediately after Anathema had left, his hand flew to rest on Crowley’s. “How are you doing, my dear?” he asked.

Despite the fact that Aziraphale, most probably, had his best interest in mind, Crowley wasn’t feeling like talking about the things bothering him at the moment, so instead answering he said, “More like, how are you doing? Is there anything we can improve?”

“Oh, don’t be silly. This evening is already extraordinarily lovely.”

That made Crowley smile a little. “I’m glad.”

“He got to talk about so many things today. I do love talking with you both,” Aziraphale declared. Then something in his tone changed, when he said, “And he got to chat about some of our older memories together too.” He sent Crowley an evocative smile.

And that smile was very sweet, truly, but Crowley was kind of exhausted with evocativeness and suggestions and all of that stuff. Especially when connected to memories he worked years to muffle. That smile, although pleasant, had broken something within him. “Why do we keep bring that bloody time back? And why today?” he snarled. And he did way more harshly than he had intended to.

Aziraphale frowned, in surprise of the sudden outburst. “Does it bother you, my dear?” he asked, his eyes revealing evident consternation.

Crowley inhaled and exhaled, reminding himself that he oughtn’t let his feelings disrupt the course of his and Aziraphale’s interactions. Calm, as he only could, he said, “No, it’s okay. Only, you know what it summons up, yeah?”

Aziraphale nodded, his gaze remining focused on Crowley. “I do know, dear,” he said softly, “but I’d simply like to remind you that it held a lot of our lovely memories as well. And they’re still very much worth reminiscing.”

“The good memories are cool, yeah, but we keep talking about our…,” Crowley felt his heart skip a beat, “…about our feelings.”

“I don’t recall those feelings being a bad memory, though.”

Crowley blinked, because… what? “Huh. Well, the only thing I can associate them with is the fact that they swayed me from my best friend,” he said at last, too bitterly.

“Crowley, don’t make those feelings out to be bad to the core, we simply made a couple of ill decisions, but in the grand scheme of things we could’ve made it work then.”

Oh, that was rich.

Very rich, coming from someone who had not seemed to want them to work out.

Crowley was about to say that out loud, but he bit his tongue the last second. Damn it, everything that this day was, was beginning to be too much. And now he and Aziraphale were inches close to an argument. Crowley was all too ill of being told that everything was tickety-boo or something, that something that hurt him, in fact, did not. And Aziraphale could speak lightly of being together, making it work or whatever, but if it were to become true now, he wouldn’t be so willing, wouldn’t he? If he were to find out that Crowley still harboured those wretched, wretched feelings for him… But for Aziraphale it was all in the past. He could reminisce, speak about the what ifs and not care less.

Crowley closed his eyes for a second, it was getting a hold on him again, frustration, and that bloody pining. He had to stop himself before he would say things he didn’t really mean and that he would regret later. “I don’t want to argue,” he murmured, his voice wavering.

“I didn’t know we were about to,” Aziraphale replied softly. He looked so innocent and genuine that Crowley couldn’t hold his cluelessness against him.

“Dunno, maybe that was only my impression,” he whispered and buried his head in his hands.

Aziraphale’s hand landed on Crowley’s shoulder, his fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt. “My dear, I think I know how you feel about this,” he murmured, “but please let me explain myself.”

Crowley raised his head. “Yeah?”

“The thing is, my dear, that...” he broke off. “I’m not entirely sure how to tell you, but maybe you should know...”

Crowley waited patiently for the end of the sentence.

“Crowley, I might need to tell you that I...”

A crash came from the kitchen halting their exchange.

Both Crowley and Aziraphale were already on their feet. Then Crowley seized Aziraphale with a look and waved him away. “You stay here, you idiot, I’ll take care of it.”

“But...”

“You’re a guest and it’s your birthday so no worrying or anything of that sort for you.”

Aziraphale looked somewhat displeased, but Crowley ignored that fact and rushed towards the noise.

“What happened?” he asked impatiently.  

Anathema was standing innocently in the middle of the kitchen as if nothing in fact did. “Uhh, just dropped the baking tray, so nothing really,” she replied with a shrug.

“Ah.” Crowley glanced about the room and spotted the birthday cake already waiting with candles and all. “Are we ready for the ‘happy birthday’ perhaps.”

Anathema’s eyes found the cake too. “As you can see,” she answered pointedly. “I only have to light the candles.”

“Yeah, okay,” let out Crowley, then leaned against the counter, feeling his emotions finally get to him. What the hell was that conversation with Aziraphale that had happened just now, about? Apparently, their feelings for each other were a good memory for Aziraphale. What did that mean? What was Crowley supposed to do with that? He pressed his palms to his cheeks, feeling their heat. Oh, how hated those feelings, right now. How he hated that the whole discussion even occurred.

“Literally one conversation without me, only you and him, and you’re already blushing like an idiot,” Anathema said, breaking his line of thoughts.

Crowley sighed, not letting his exasperation be known. “I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Only, I’ve never seen you have a such an obvious and desperate crush on anyone before.”

Crowley scowled. “Shut up. He might hear that!”

Anathema raised an eyebrow, her mirth clear as day. “So you’re admitting to it?

“No! I do not have a crush on him,” Crowley let out in a murmur. Technically it wasn’t lying, he didn’t have a crush, he was bloody in love. “Seriously, please shut up.”

Anathema simply tsked and began lighting the candles on the cake. Crowley didn’t dare say another thing until she was done. He wanted to get over everything that happened, before he was going to be bound to face Aziraphale again. He was about to soon, so that getting over process would better work fast.

Finally, they emerged from the kitchen, the cake kept steadily in Anathema’s hands.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to youuuu,” they sang, aware of being completely out of tune with each other.

Aziraphale looked at them what could only be read as complete adoration and agitation.

They approached him, Anathema brought up the cake closer to Aziraphale’s face. “Remember to make a wish before you blow the candles.”

“I certainly will.” Aziraphale stared at the cake for a second, presumably thinking through his wish. Then his eyes locked with Crowley’s and widened. “And I have just the idea,” he murmured.

He closed his eyes and whispered something under his breath, then blew the candles.

Anathema cheered, but Crowley couldn’t bring himself to, because when Aziraphale opened his eyes, his gaze was still settled on him, as if the entire time he was thinking about him. Damn it, what that wish could be like? I wish Crowley finally would start to act like a normal human being around me, or, I wish Crowley would get over himself? Because it certainly hadn’t been something along the lines of I wish Crowley would kiss me.

Crowley would happily do all of those three things, but the problem was that he unfortunately couldn’t, in one way or another.

But despite those notions he said out loud, “I hope your wish comes true,” as softly as he could.

Aziraphale smiled at him sweetly. “I hope so too, my dear.” He looked so lovely in the flavescent light of the oldish lightbulb screwed in the lamp. And that smile of his, ever-so-enchanting. It was enough to make Crowley feel butterflies in his stomach and forget all of his worries. Even if only for a second.

They would probably stare into each other’s eyes like that for longer, but they were interrupted by Anathema’s cry, “Now time for alcohol!”

Crowley let out an amused exhale. “Yep, I guess it’s time.”

Soon everybody had their glass filled with wine and a plate with a slice of the birthday cake, and were talking about some nonsense.

Something stabilised Crowley’s emotions at last and so he was able to somehow enjoy the rest of the evening. It was majorly thanks to the way Aziraphale began to look at him after their dispute, somewhat apologetically, but also with some much amount of “I really care about you, please don’t be sad” vibes that Crowley could do nothing else than melt in the sweetness of it. It was also thanks to the general joy of the moment that lead Crowley to relish the whole thing more. Also alcohol. Alcohol had also kind of helped.

So soon instead of distressing himself like he had done before he was now enjoying some pointless conversations, sprawled on the sofa, not being able to care less about what was happening around him. Apparently, currently they were talking about a cat, an amazing and very non-involving topic, so just a right one for a such occasion.

“Did you hear a story of Muffin the cat?” Anathema asked Aziraphale. “A local hero of sorts.”

“It’s a very cute story,” Crowley muttered. “The type you get in illustrated books for children. There was a fire, the cat started meowing, woke up everyone and thus saved them.”

“Aww, that is very cute,” Aziraphale admitted.

“Also very soppy,” Crowley muttered under his breath, his head landing on the back rest of the sofa.

Anathema rolled her eyes. “You would just go and criticise everything that is adorable.”

Crowley glanced at Aziraphale, who was in fact very adorable. “Nah, I have a great appreciation for adorableness. It only depends in what form. Besides, was I criticising anything here?”

Anathema ignored him, turning to Aziraphale. “I think they’ve made him a small tribute.”

“Of what kind?” he asked curiously.

“There’s like a graffiti portrait thing. They made it a few weeks ago I think. Although I don’t know who did or if it’s official.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you just have to go a little to the right, but it’s like a minute from our flat.”

“I’d love to see it!”

“How about we do now?” Anathema suggested. “It looks amazing at night. The streetlight highlight it very nicely.”

Aziraphale’s eyes brightened. “That would be very nice, I should think.”

As much as Crowley desired to spend as much of this day as he could with Aziraphale, he couldn’t bring himself to get up from the sofa. And when he tried imagining not only getting up, but also putting on his shoes and a jacket and then going outside, it all only seemed like a nightmare. His head was heavy like a rock, and it swayed dangerously close to the arm of the sofa. “I think I’ll stay. Sorry, guys…” he muttered.

Aziraphale’s eyes gained a sparkle of disappointment, but then he gave Crowley an understanding smile. “That’s quite alright, my dear,” he said. “You do seem tired.”

“Mhm. I guess I am.”

Aziraphale took a few steps forward to stand before Crowley, and then ruffled his hair affectionately. Crowley preened in the touch for those few seconds, like a cat enjoying being pet. It did feel a little pathetic, he had to admit, but he just couldn’t help himself.

“We’ll be back in no time,” Aziraphale promised.

As soon as the door were closed behind them, Crowley’s head fell to the sofa’s arm. He closed his eyes, although he knew how bad of an idea that was. But, damn it, he really, really wanted to fall asleep, forget about whatever was bothering him today, immerse himself in blissful oblivion. But he couldn’t permit himself that, not yet at least.

He barely kept himself conscious, but he manged until Aziraphale and Anathema were back. He greeted them with a very sleepy “hello” and it was obvious that they were both too aware of his state.

“Dear, you don’t have to get up,” Aziraphale said, instead of greeting him back. How very rude.

“I, gnh…” Crowley wanted to protest but broke off mid-sentence. “Okay, okay, I’ll stay like this.”

“Very well.” Aziraphale smiled softly. “Finally you’ll agreeing with me that you should take care of yourself.”

Crowley jolted up to a half-sitting position. “Wait, what? No. I said no such a thing,” he protested.

“In my head you did.”

Crowley frowned. “That’s not how it works.”

“Don’t you trust your best friend?” cut in Anathema.

“Wuh?”

“He’s very reliable. He knows how this works.”

Aziraphale sent her a smile and then said, “I do Crowley, dear.”

“Why is everybody against me?” Crowley questioned, scowling dramatically.

Aziraphale took a step forward then and without a warning slid his hand on Crowley’s cheek, cupping it gently. “Please rest, my dear,” he said.

Crowley held his breath. He stared enchanted into Aziraphale’s eyes, which were filled with so much adoration he could barely handle it.

“Yeah, yes, okay,” he breathed out, lowering his head to the pillow. He ignored Anathema who, standing behind Aziraphale, was currently trying to refrain herself from laughing.

And so Crowley was dozing off, just a bit. Okay, maybe not just a bit. He was kind of, fully, and unrestrainedly falling asleep. In the middle of Aziraphale's birthday party. Great.

His exhaustion was probably the result of him spending all day organising the whole affair and, well, working, and, well, getting punched in the face by his own feelings. He hoped Aziraphale wouldn't mind too much, although he still felt guilty, but simply couldn’t stop it.

Aziraphale and Anathema were still chatting, seemingly enjoying themselves. Crowley could hear them discussing something that apparently involved aardvarks. Or maybe not, maybe he was mishearing, maybe it was about some fellow named Arnold.

There was sound of steps to be heard then that clearly indicated that both of them got closer to him.

“He's asleep,” Anathema’s very amused voice said. Crowley wanted to protest but couldn’t make himself to.

“Better not to interrupt then,” said Aziraphale’s much softer one. “Only, Crowley dear, if you can hear this I wanted to say goodbye.”

Crowley had no capacity to open his eyes, but he managed to get out a bit strangled, very sleepy “Goodbye, ‘ziraphale.”

At that he was responded with Anathema's cackle and stupidly cute little “aww” from Aziraphale.

“Well I must be going.” The sound of the steps could be heard from far away again, and so were the voices, Crowley deduced that Aziraphale and Anathema were already in the hall.

“Thank you again, my dear girl, it was absolutely lovely of you and Crowley to organise this.”

“It was nothing.”

There was a sound of clothing being fiddled with, probably Aziraphale was putting on his coat. “Quite contrary I should think, it was quite something. Thank Crowley from me again for thinking about me like that.”

“He does, it seems, think about you a lot, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale coughed. “Maybe, maybe he does.”

“Honestly he might be thinking about you all the time.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”

“Oh, I’m not getting ahead.”

“I’m sure you’re mistaken,” Aziraphale countered.

“I rarely ever am,” said Anathema confidently. “My aunt says I have a gift of mind-reading.”

“Does she now?”

“Yes, she’s an excellent witch herself.”

“Not something your landlord would approve of.”

They both chuckled.

“Now, I really do have to go,” Aziraphale said at last, his voice apologetic. “So… until the next time.”

“Until then. Have a good night,” Anathema replied.

“You too, have a good night,” he called, and then the sound of closing door could be heard, but Crowley could barely register that because a second later he was already asleep.

Chapter Text

The evening was a particularly toasty one considering the spring had just begun. It didn’t mean Crowley desired to leave his flat, really, that would be a gross misjudgement, he was completely fine with staying home, preferably watching Golden Girls. Anathema had left for the evening, which was welcomed, a bit of loneliness definitely didn’t struck Crowley as a bother. Although, it likewise didn’t mean that he would refuse any company. Especially if said company had a smile of an angel, pretty curls and was Crowley’s best friend.

A quick knock on the door startled him. He was quick to shut down his laptop and saunter to the door, hoping it wasn’t anyone who would like to bother him with their presence for long. But when he opened the door at last he abruptly changed his mind.

Standing in front of him was Aziraphale with a somewhat nervous smile. Oh, okay, so the company he didn’t mind at all.

“Hi, what’s up?” Crowley greeted. It was seldom that his friend would come so completely without a notice. “Nothing bad happened, I hope.”

“Oh, no, no, nothing of that kind,” assured Aziraphale, inviting himself to step in further into the flat without a word of a warning. Not that Crowley minded. “I came here to ask you a simple question, my dear.”

Crowley frowned, but didn’t need to question the reason of his friend’s appearance too much. Quite the contrary, he ignored whatever voice in his head said to do so and grabbed Aziraphale by his hands to drag him to sit on the sofa. There were no protests involved.

“Go on,” said Crowley, relaxing into his usual sprawl.

“Er, right, I would like to extend an invitation, you see, to you.”

“Oh?”

“A dear friend of mine, who is quite an accomplished artist is opening a gallery, and I got an invite to the opening gala!” Aziraphale let out brightly, then added, “And an invite of a plus one too.”

“You’re asking me?”

“Yes, dear, of course I’m asking you,” he said in excitement. “Will you go with me?”

Crowley felt himself redden at the enthusiasm that inviting him caused Aziraphale. He resembled a teenager asking their crush to prom, which made the situation even more flustering and Crowley even more embarrassed. “Are you sure? Do you not want to, I dunno, ask one of your artist friends or something?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Why would I do that if I can ask my dearest one?”

“Ngk. Okay, I’ll go.”

“You’ll go?” Crowley’s sudden agreement and a one without any bickering must’ve surprised him, because Aziraphale looked more than bewildered.

“Yeah, yeah I will,” Crowley mumbled, scratching the back of his head. “Although I didn’t ask for the date of the event. So if you wouldn’t mind…”

“My dear, I will send you all the details in a message and then you can make your decision. We’re not in a hurry, there’s still a few weeks.”

Yeah, it was a little absurd to be making decisions of that sort on the spot, especially when not knowing the date and oneself’s availability at the time, but Crowley was an absurd man, who kind of really wanted to go to fancy gala with his crush. He couldn’t recall any important occasions that were supposed take place in his life for the foreseeable future, and if there were any they were probably cancellable. “Yeah, okay, you’re right. I’ll think about it,” he replied, and then added, “Why did you come here then? If it’s not so urgent?”

“Well…” Aziraphale blushed lightly. “Maybe I just wanted to see you,” he suggested in a small voice.

“We’ve seen each other two days ago.”

“Do you think that that makes a difference?”

“No, Aziraphale, it doesn’t,” Crowley said, amusement in his voice. “Do you want a cup of tea?” he enquired.

“Oh, yes, please,” Aziraphale let out happily.

Crowley smiled to himself and got up. “On my way.”

~*~

Crowley was hella excited and hella nervous. He was not only invited to a fancy event by Aziraphale but was also about to be introduced to Aziraphale’s crowd, his other good friends. He needed to make an excellent first impression, come off as someone cool, not as an idiot who was additionally head over heels in love with Aziraphale and couldn’t take his eyes off him, because that would just be embarrassing.

A few days before the event he fumbled frantically through his closet to find the most agreeable outfit possible. He had come up with a few ensembles, one of them including that black shirt which Aziraphale had seemed to like.

He emerged from his room bearing the garments in hands and sauntered to the kitchen where he was sure Anathema was.

“Which one?” he asked unceremoniously.

Anathema glanced at him, leaned on the counter, thoughtfulness taking over her face. “First of all, separate them,” she said, gesturing at the clothes with a fork she was bearing in her hand. “And also, I need to know what event are they for, to help you.”

Crowley sighed. He knew what Anathema’s reaction would be to that. “The- the thing Aziraphale invited me to. Y’know I told you about that one.”

As he expected she smirked. “Ah, so you obviously need to look great.”

“Hell yeah, I do.” He seized her with a look. “But not for the reason you think.”

“No? Why then?”

“Because this is a fancy party, even Aziraphale emphasised that, kinda,” he explained, sourness not leaving his voice.

“Are you certain you have no other motives?”

Crowley ignored the flush burning his cheeks, and pridefully replied, “I am certain.”

Anathema only raised her eyebrows but dropped the topic. “Okay, show that stuff to me.”

First went all the shirts, there was one classic black, one with a nice Edwardian collar, and the one, which, well, Aziraphale seemed to like. Later went a few pairs of pants and his jackets. When he laid out all the attire and realised how much he had brought, he began to wonder if he wasn’t overdoing this whole thing.

“I definitely wouldn’t go with the jeans,” Anathema commented, gesturing towards his pair of black jeans.

“Yeah, I was unsure about them too, but thought I might try them,” he muttered as an answer and took them away and threw at a random chair in a sign of no longer considering them.

“I think those will be the best,” she said and pointed at his elegant black cotton trousers.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.”

“Plus that jacket.” She pointed at a black jacket with golden adorations near the collar. “And the plain black shirt I guess.”

Usually, Anathema was not to be disturbed when it came to her outfit assembling process, but Crowley had to throw in some ideas of his own. “That shirt is highly in favour,” he said, showing her the chelsea collar one.

Anathema frowned. “Why? It won’t fit with the jacket.”

“Ngk, nevermind,” muttered Crowley, fearing he had just opened a gate to a conversation he refused to partake in.

“Wait,” she smirked, “now I want to know.”

“No,” he replied firmly.

She pressed on. “Please? I promise I won’t laugh.”

“That’s not what I’m fearing,” he muttered flatly.

“Oh, come on.”

Crowley sighed, and as emotionlessly as he could he said, “It’s because Aziraphale likes it.”

Anathema grinned delightedly. “I knew it! You just keep proving my point.”

“What? Maybe he just knows this and that about fashion.”

“Crowley, I know what you think of his fashion choices, don’t even try to deny it.”

“Shut up!”

“It’s because you like it when he likes it how you look, isn’t it?”

Crowley tried a glare, but it didn’t seem to help. Anathema was still amused and still appeared complacent. “Nhhh.”

“Oh, stop making your stupid sounds and just admit it.”

“Drop it.”

“I’ll have you know that by trying to shut me up, you’re confirming it.”

He repeated the glare, also with no results.

~*~

The day of the gala Crowley woke up from a dream about what was basically him an Aziraphale cuddling together, kissing, and confessing love to one another over and over again. Greeeeat, what great dream for such a day. Crowley was a very lucky man, indeed. And would certainly not thinking about the bloody thing for the rest of the day.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, under his breath. Today was a being very smitten kind of day, so a bad day to be meeting up with Aziraphale. He always was very smitten with him, yes, but on days like those the whole thing became extra intense and the prospect of seeing that angel, alone, made him blush uncontrollably.

The small debate with Anathema resulted in him choosing to wear the trousers she suggested, and he couldn’t help himself but pick that bloody chelsea collar and bishop sleeves shirt. He ironed all the garments, took a shower, and stuffed his hair with as much products as it was possible for it took look any presentable instead of a mess like it usually had been.

He had asked Anathema a few times if she thought he looked alright and every time she had to assure him that he did and that Aziraphale will surely like it. To the latter Crowley had scowled and protested a bit, but she just kept smirking and repeating it with more smugness in her voice.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he announced giving himself a few good looks in the mirror to ensure that everything was alright.

Anathema looked at him, frowning. “But don’t you have like three more hours to wait?” she asked, pointing at the clock that was hanging to the wall.

“Huh?” A glance at its clock face confirmed that she was right. “Damn it. Thought it would take me longer to prepare.”

“I told you that you should’ve taken this easy…

He collapsed onto the sofa, full of resignation. “Guess I’ll have to wait.”

When just one hour had passed Crowley was already dying of boredom. He would surely have more fun if he was on that wretched gala already. The anticipation was killing him, and as much as he had usually relished endlessly scrolling social media on his phone this time around the activity was more infuriating than anything. And he was supposed to sit here for two more hours? Impossible!

When the clock struck half an hour before the arranged hour of his departure he got up and proclaimed that he was leaving, even though that Anathema had been in frank state of disbelief of his decision.

Crowley and Aziraphale’s arranged meeting place was before the gallery itself, for that way it was comfortable for both of them as they both would take way less time by going there on their own. Crowley had about fifteen minutes’ walk from his flat to his destination, so he didn’t bother with taking a taxi. Instead he took a nice stroll in the chilly air of early spring.

Aziraphale was wating for him already, standing by the building. As soon as their eyes met Crowley felt his heart skip a beat.

And… ah.

Oh no.

Aziraphale was looking gorgeous, beautiful. He was wearing his lovely usual waist coat and matching trousers, but instead of his pale blue shirt he chose a white one with a bloody jabot collar. Crowley was suddenly engulfed by a dire desire to pull him by that jabot and kiss him. He was there standing, being so lovely and waving at Crowley with a beam.

“Hello, my dear!” he called loudly enough that anyone in ten meters proximity could hear him.

Crowley jogged in his direction to get to him as quickly as he only could, but his fancy clothes weren’t really helpfully in that activity. He reached his friend breathless. “Hi!”

“There you are, my dear,” Aziraphale said happily. Everything would be jolly good if he wasn’t so damn pretty with that shirt on.

“Angel… Look at you, you’re gorgeous,” Crowley murmured so quietly that he was sure Aziraphale wouldn’t hear.

“What was that?”

“Nh- nothing, nothing at all.” That nothing was a terrible lie, unfortunately. Because, it wasn’t nothing, definitely not nothing. There was something, an awful something, and it complied of Crowley wanting to kiss Aziraphale so badly he couldn’t stop staring at his lips.   

“Hmm, alright,” said Aziraphale. “Let’s get going then.” He offered Crowley an arm.

Damn it. He offered Crowley an arm. They would go there with their arms looped! So close to one another and for everyone to see! When trying to process it all, Crowley lagged like a malfunctioning device and instead of reacting he just gaped unceremoniously at his friend.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale was looking back at him, smiling, his arms hovering in the air, still in the silent offer. “Are we going?”

“Yesyesyes,” Crowley replied hastily, and finally accepted the arm with his heart pounding in his chest.

“You know, that actually reminds me of a certain situation.”

“Yeah?”

“From when we were kids.”

Now that Aziraphale mentioned it, Crowley found the object of the resemblance too. It was not a very bright one. It might’ve been the time Crowley… goodness gracious… the time Crowley realised he had a crush. “Oh,” he breathed out.

“Well, but it wasn’t something relevant methinks. Or was it?”

“No, no, it definitely wasn’t.” Surely Aziraphale remembered that it was also the day of their first kiss, that it was relevant. Unless he didn’t. If so, maybe that was for the best.

They marched into the building, side by side. The place was smaller on the inside than Crowley would have expected, but it was roomy enough to fit quite a lot of people and not eclipse the art displayed on the walls in the process. From far away Crowley couldn’t yet decipher what they presented, but he was sure he would get to soon enough.

By the main entrance was a cloakroom that everyone heading after arriving, so Aziraphale and Crowley did too.

“Would you rather have your own hanger, or can I get one for us both?” enquired Aziraphale, beginning to take his coat off.

Crowley shrugged. “One’s enough. That will be more convenient I think.”

“Well, of course. Then hand me your coat, my dear fellow.”

Crowley obeyed, taking his black coat off and revealing the rest of his outfit. It might have been only his imagination, but when he did so, Aziraphale’s facial expression morphed into something very stunned and somewhat flustered.

At last the gave their attire to the cloakroom attendant, along with some inconvenient belongings, like Crowley’s bag, and headed down to the main room of the building.

“I forgot to mention that you do look very fetching in this outfit,” said Aziraphale before they stepped in.

Crowley flushed. “Yeah?”

“Yes, of course. And I do recognise that shirt.”

“Thought you might,” Crowley muttered, silently hugging himself over the choice.

The moment they stepped into the room, someone was already coming hurriedly towards them. “Aziraphale!” a happy voice could be heard, then a man with short brown hair, huge rectangular glasses and a smile too big to fit on his face approached them.

“Good evening Harry!” Aziraphale responded, then hugged his friend. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“Yes, mate, we’re both busy with our own stuff, it’s so much harder to get together with the old crew.”

Harry apparently, glanced at Crowley now as he seemingly noticed how close with Aziraphale they were standing, and eyed him. “And who are you?”

Aziraphale beamed. “Oh, my dear boy, I need to introduce you,” he turned to Harry. “Harry, this is my dearest friend Anthony Crowley,” then he turned to Crowley. “Crowley, this is Harry,” he said. Both men shook hands.

“Pleasure to meet you, mate” said Harry with an awkward smile.

“Likewise.”

“You’re here as…”

“Aziraphale’s plus one, yeah.”

Aziraphale looped his arms around Crowley’s again, pulling him awfully close, his smile unbearably lovely. “Yes, he’s my date,” he said with so much unnecessary sweetness in his voice that probably everyone in the room had melted.

Crowley was his date. Date didn’t have to be specifically romantic. It really didn’t. That word had many unromantic meanings, but Crowley was only very much delusional, so that word did terribly weird things to his heart.

Their arms were brushing, Aziraphale’s warmth was lingering on Crowley’s side. He glanced at his friend, who was glancing too. They were so close, looking at each other. Damn it, damn it, damn it, Crowley could barely breath, he wanted to kiss Aziraphale so badly.

“I see,” said Harry uncertainly. Both Crowley and Aziraphale looked away from each other’s eyes to look at him. Right, he was still there. Aziraphale must’ve forgotten that as well, because suddenly he appeared very sheepish and pulled away from Crowley.

“How have you been?” he asked, apparently wanting to atone for his mistake. Crowley stared at him and couldn’t help but observe that Aziraphale’s cheeks were just as red as his usually were in those situations. And the way he stared at Crowley earlier? Could he possibly be feeling the same way as Crowley did? Or was just Crowley an idiot? The latter option sounded like the most realistic one and so Crowley accepted it as such. He was famous for being a little bit of a fool.

Harry and Aziraphale chatted in regard of topics Crowley wasn’t well informed about, so he gave the place a watchful look instead. It was crowded with other guests, talking, laughing, drinking, the walls were, of course, adored with the paintings of who Crowley was earlier informed Aziraphale’s dear friend. At the end of the room he spotted a mini bar, well equipped with all kinds of drinks and a few kinds of fancy small sandwiches. A vase filled with a pinkish punch caught his eye.  

“I’m getting myself a drink. Do you want anything?” he asked.

Aziraphale shook his head. “Nothing for now, my dear, but thank you for the thought.”

Crowley headed towards the table, searching for anything else that looked attractive, but there was nothing that looked like it would feel good right now.

“I recommend the punch,” suddenly a girl standing by the table said, giving him a genial look.

“Oh, is it good?”

“Yeah, made it myself.”

He poured himself some with the ladle and gave a sampling sip. The girl was right, it was good. Actually, way too good, now that Crowley thought about it. It was sweet, but not too sweet. It left just the right sour taste in his mouth. But there was also a hint of alcohol there. “How much alcohol is in that?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Barely any. I swear. I simply put in a few drops for taste.” Crowley wasn’t able to tell, really, but the girl sounded genuine enough with her response that he felt that he could trust her. “Thanks for the recommendation.”

She grinned. “No problem.”

He found Aziraphale and Harry with his eyes and sauntered in their direction with a glass in his hand. Then, he noticed they weren’t completely alone. Standing with them was a woman with her hair tied up, wearing a fancy black suit. Crowley could admit that she was quite beautiful. Not as beautiful as Aziraphale, of course. But she had a certain charm to herself that Crowley could appreciate from a purely aesthetic point of view.

“Good evening,” Crowley greeted, drawing the crowds attention to himself.

“Oh, Crowley, you’re back,” Aziraphale noticed. “That’s very well, because another introduction is due.” He gestured towards the woman. “This is my friend, and the owner of this gallery, Leslie.” Then he gestured toward Crowley. “This is my date, Anthony Crowley.”

The bracelets on Leslie’s hand clinked as she shook Crowley’s hand.

“Congratulations for opening this gallery,” Crowley said in lieu of greeting.

“Oh, thank you. I’m even more overjoyed that I’ve drawn so many amazing people here.”

“Such as us,” Harry cut in, grinning.

Leslie chuckled. “Yes, such as you and Aziraphale.”

That earned her a beam for Aziraphale. “I really am honoured that I could get an invite. And I am so happy that I could bring Crowley along. I hadn’t had a chance to introduce him to any of my friends before now.”

Leslie smiled. “You do make a lovely couple,” she said.

At first Aziraphale’s jaw dropped, but then he swiftly came into action. “No, no, no, we are not a couple,” he let out hastily.

Crowley shook his head along with the words, making gestures which were supposed to articulate how much that statement was wrong, feelings his panic overtake.

“Oh, oh, I’m sorry.” Leslie laughed nervously. “I really thought you were…” She noticed their flustered looks. “Nevermind.”

“Oh, my dear girl, we aren’t. What gave you that idea?”

“Just the way you spoke of him, Aziraphale.” Her nervousness had vanished and was replaced with gentle mirth, probably because she was vaguely aware of what chaos she leashed out. Now she turned to Crowley. “Many sweet things, be assured.”

“Oh, yeah?” Crowley enquired, trying for a smug expression, but ultimately knowing that he didn’t desire to turn the conversation to a romance-centred one. Aziraphale spoke sweetly of all of his friends, Crowley was not an exception, so it was not as if he was about to abruptly discover that secretly Aziraphale did favour him in some sense. Maybe, but only maybe in that romantic one.

Aziraphale stopped their exchange by forcing himself in between them, his face was visibly red. “That’s quite enough, I should think.”

Leslie chuckled. “As you say, you stubborn man.”

He straightened, his chin high up in a little show of proudness. “And now I would really like you to tell as more about your paintings. As you did before my date arrived,” he said, his voice dripping with pride.

Her smile was only amused when she said, “Of course I will.”

Aziraphale looked satisfied enough with her response, because his irritation varnished and was replaced with the same gentle curiosity that he displayed when Crowley joined him, Harry and Leslie.

“As you can see I attempted to capture ancient architecture with a bit of a modern twist.” She approached one of the paintings that resembled the colosseum with colourful geometrical shapes painted into the elements of it. They all followed her. “Just as the colosseum you can see here, for reference I used existing ruins of buildings from places like Greece, Rome and Egypt and filled the places which lack certain pieces with additional elements of modern art.”

“That’s such an interesting concept,” Aziraphale commented as they continued the tour.

They studied the other paintings as well with Leslie’s commentary keeping them informed about all the objects captured on the canvas and the inspiration for it. And in a moment of a longer pause, while passing by the minibar, Crowley got himself another glass of the punch.

Not a lot of time had passed when Leslie was forced to leave them alone as some other guest accosted her and, obviously, she was inclined to interact will all of them, but even when left alone Aziraphale, Crowley and Harry still marched around the room regarding the art.

“This is undoubtedly the Avenue of Sphinxes.”

“A what?” Crowley couldn’t hide his bafflement. Throughout the evening he was getting more fatigued that he had expected himself to be and at this point the whole view was getting a bit blurry, he had to admit, the painting especially.

“Oh, it’s a long avenue with statues along it, located in Egypt that connects the Karnak temple with the Luxor temple,” explained Aziraphale. “It’s honestly extraordinary.”

“Have you seen it?” Crowley asked with curiosity.

“I’d love to, but I haven’t been to Egypt.”

“So how do you know if it’s that extraordinary?”

Aziraphale gave him a smile that revealed how naïve he thought the question was. “Well, it’s over two kilometres long and consists of over thousands of statues, I imagine it must be breath-taking.”

Crowley tsked. “Of course, it’s some history of arts nerd’s thing.”

Harry laughed, but Aziraphale only rolled his eyes. “My dear, I didn’t think I’d have to remind you that you are likewise a ‘history of arts nerd’.”

“Stop giving away my secrets.”

That apparently grasped Harry’s interest. “Are you?”

“I didn’t tell you,” said Aziraphale, successfully halting Crowley from protesting, “but he very much is. Or at least used to be. How is it now?”

“Nhh, won’t tell you.” If Aziraphale found out that recently Crowley had put an all-nighter to watch a film about Donatello and his sculptures he would probably be insufferable about it.

“Of course,” Aziraphale told him, and then turned to Harry and leaned conspiratorially. “He is a history of arts nerd. And quite an artist himself.”

“I am not an artist. The amount I draw is like a doddle once a month when I chat with someone on the phone.”

“But your drawings are good.”

“Ah, so you’re not a complete outsider to this community then,” Harry pointed out, appearing intrigued.

“I actually started that journey along with Aziraphale. We met attending the same art classes. But an outsider to this community I am, as I quit decently practicing art more than ten years ago.”

“Well,” Harry patted him on his arm, “there are still plenty of opportunities to find connections to it.”

“Honestly the one I have through Aziraphale is enough for me. My amazing artist friend.” Crowley grinned, and Aziraphale blushed lightly, rolling his eyes with amusement. 

“Fair, mate.”

Crowley poured himself another glass of the punch, because really it would be a crime if he were to deny himself something so good. Aziraphale and Harry were conversating vigorously and honestly Crowley would also join them happily, but he found that he wasn’t feeling exactly capable of doing that. Everything began getting even more shaky. Crowley leaned against Aziraphale’s shoulder to steady himself.

“Are you quite alright, my dear? Not feeling dizzy?”

“Just a little under the weather,” Crowley muttered, trying to concentrate his vision to get a better picture of what was going around him and of Aziraphale’s face.

That got him a frown. “Are you sure? Because you would never use this phrase in a right state of your mind.”

“Aww, you know me better than I know myself.”

Aziraphale made a face. “Hardly.”

“No, of course you do,” Crowley countered playfully.

That only got him a roll of his friend’s eyes. “I suppose it’s a bit swelteringly in here.”

“Yeah, it might be that.”

“Harry, could you get a glass of water for Crowley,” Aziraphale turned to Harry.

“Sure,” Harry said and headed to the minibar. Soon he was back with the drink in his hand. He handed Crowley the glass of water immediately. As soon as he got it in his hands Crowley took a hefty gulp from it.

“Better?” asked Aziraphale, scrutinising him.

“I think…”

“Shall we find a spot to sit?”

Crowley shrugged. “Don’t want to tie you into one place. I can find myself one and you can spend the rest of the evening with Harry.”

Aziraphale’s eyes darkened instantly. “Out of the question. I’m not leaving you by yourself when you’re feeling under par. Besides it’s not as if I’m also not a tad tired.”

“If you says so,” Crowley muttered. His eyes found a seat at the other side of the room. It didn’t look remotely comfortable as it was only a white, stony cuboid, which’s main purpose was to look modern, but it could do for now. Crowley tugged Aziraphale lightly by his sleeve, gesturing towards the destination he was looking at.

“Very well,” Aziraphale said and went in that direction. Harry followed suit, all three of them soon on the, as Crowley suspected it was, a very painful to sit on, seat. When Crowley finally rested he realised how fatigued he had been. All of his muscles immediately gave out and he became a useless, weary mess.

Crowley refrained himself from completely clinging to Aziraphale and perhaps burring his head in his neck. They were at a fancy event, he reminded himself. But it was so bloody tempting. He leaned subconsciously to the side, his arms pressing itself against Aziraphale’s.

“Hello, dear,” Aziraphale murmured upon noticing the contact. “You’re tired, aren’t you?”

“Mmm,” Crowley let out as a response.

“We might go soon,” he replied.

“No, no, let’s stay for some more time.” Crowley was exhausted, or at least feeling “under the weather” as he had said himself, but it would be stupid to force Aziraphale to leave so soon. He had surely been looking forward to this gala and surely wanted to take a bit more time relishing it than those few pitiful hours he had here.

“If you say so,” Aziraphale agreed.

For some time Crowley just sat on the side, while Aziraphale and Harry talked, and he was fully okay with that. It was very well actually, he could listen to them chatting about, frankly, very interesting things and treat it like a podcast. One of the speakers was a man he was in love with so that made it even more enjoyable. But at some point Aziraphale seemed to decide that they needed to include him, because he nudged Crowley with his shoulder and gave him more attention. “So, Crowley, tell me, are there any paintings that took your fancy?”

Crowley stared at Aziraphale, his brain going through a long and complicated process. If everything wasn’t that blurry maybe the art would be more noticeable, but right now the only thing he could pay attention to was his friend before him. He grinned like an idiot. “Why would I look at the paintings, if I have such a gorgeous angel to look at?” he asked.

Aziraphale froze, his eyes widening.

Contrarily, Harry just laughed and patted Aziraphale on the back. “Mate, are you sure you don’t want me to leave you and your ‘dearest friend’ alone?”

Aziraphale sent him a death glare, and once again turned back to Crowley. “My dear fellow, I didn’t want to ask, but now I think I have to, how much alcohol did you have?” he enquired impatiently.

“Nhhh, not that much. I just had a few glasses of that pink- pink drink.”

That for some reason send Harry into more laughter. “You had Susie’s punch?”

“Dunno if it was Susie…”

“That tall girl with short dark hair, and a green dress.”

“Ah, yeah, that was Susie I guess.”

“She is kind of infamous for alcohol overdosage in her beverages.”

Of course it was the alcohol, Crowley should’ve realised by now. What hell had he been thinking? Instead of drinking something that was obviously alcoholic and something he would have restraint in consuming, he picked a random punch and drank like four glasses of it. “Fuu-”  

“Crowley!” Aziraphale stopped him, glaring dangerously.

“Don’t you Crowley me. I’m drunk!” he whined helplessly.

“More like tipsy but yes, I can see that.”

“Yeah, so everything’s hell.”

“You don’t have to articulate it so loudly, though.”

“Don’t worry.” Now Harry patted Crowley on the back. “We’ve all been there. She’s making these to every event we have in our social scene.”

“Well, I haven’t ‘been there’,” Aziraphale muttered under his breath.

“You don’t have to brag mate,” Harry said, then turned to Crowley. “He drinks only the fanciest wine possible… and if there’s no as such available he only drinks tea.”

Crowley exhaled in amusement. “Yeah, very Aziraphalish behaviour.”

Aziraphale made a face at them both. “It doesn’t matter at the moment.”

“Yes, mate, maybe not, but it is a little mirth inspiring, isn’t it?”

Harry got a huff as a response from Aziraphale and a chuckle from Crowley.

“We should probably go, my dear,” Aziraphale voiced in what it seemed like an attempt to shift the topic from his person to a different one. “Don’t you think?”

“I guess,” Crowley replied, feeling tremendously guilty for ruining his friend’s evening like that. Whatever Aziraphale said, about also being tired and whatnot, didn’t matter. Crowley knew that if he could, he would stay for longer. “You know you can stay though, right?” he tried suggesting, but unfortunately without a result.

“Oh, no, no, I will go with you,” Aziraphale said stubbornly. “I will claim our coats from the coatrack, dear,” he offered. “Harry please keep an eye on him.”

“Seriously? I’m just tipsy Aziraphale!” Crowley protested, but Aziraphale was already gone. What an irritating angel he was.

Now that he was left alone with Harry, Crowley relaxed slightly, even though he still was rather annoyed with himself, seeing as his and Aziraphale’s evening was definitely coming to an end. But what could he do, when his friend was being stubborn like that?

“So you like him, don’t you?”

The question pull him out of his thoughts. “Huh?”

“You just told my mate his gorgeous,” said Harry, his expression full of amusement.

Crowley slowly processed the words. “Uh, yeah. He’s the prettiest guy in the world,” he murmured dreamily and finally turned to look at Harry. “Do you realise how lucky we are that we get to know him?”

Harry raised an eyebrow, which made Crowley aware of what he’d just said. “But that doesn't mean I like him,” he quickly added. “I mean, I like him but not like you think I like him, not like-like him, just like him, regularly,” he tried explaining, feelings his cheeks grow warmer and warmer.

“Sure thing, mate, I didn’t doubt that for a second.”

At last Aziraphale returned with coats, saving Crowley from more embarrassment.

“Come on, my dear,” he said and handed Crowley his garments. “Put this on you and we can start out.” Then he turned to Harry, “Dear boy, I hope we’ll have an opportunity to see each other again as soon as possible,” he said, offering him a smile.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, mate, I can phone you or something.”

“That would be lovely. Perhaps we could contact Leslie as well. I feel like today we didn’t have enough opportunities to talk to her.”

After that Aziraphale and Harry bid themselves goodbye.

At last Crowley and Aziraphale walked out of the building and as cold, fresh air hit Crowley in the face he felt instant relief. “It was swelteringly there, you were right,” he said.

Aziraphale nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I must admit I was getting exhausted too.”

Crowley savoured the wind that hit him in the face, making him a tad more sober, if that was possible. Aziraphale’s hand bumped into back of his causing him to shudder. Why was he constantly faced with the challenge of resisting such blatant temptations? He would love to be able to intertwine his fingers with Aziraphale’s, swing his arm in unison with him, but that was all just a wretched and delusional dream he couldn’t allow to be actually executed.

But soon turned out it was not simply a dream or a temptation at all because a second later Crowley hand was very gently held by Aziraphale, who was in turn staring at the pavement sheepishly.

“Ngk.”

“Is it okay if I hold your hand for now?” Aziraphale asked softly.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Crowley replied, although feeling a little taken aback and confused, “but why?”

“I need to keep you close to me,” Aziraphale said. “For your safety’s sake, of course.”

Crowley doubted that his state was dire enough for him to be in any sort of danger, but instead of voicing that thought he said, “Yep, safety first, as they say.”

Aziraphale gave him a shy smile and squeezed his hand lightly. “Yes, that’s what they always say,” he murmured.

So now, Aziraphale was leading Crowley by his hand, even though it seemed as if some kind wild dream had just come true. They held hands sometimes, but never in public, never on a walk. It would be very nice if it happened more often.

And Crowley couldn’t stop staring, absorbing the picture of pure beauty of his friend, he wanted to be in his arms, kissed to oblivion. Oh, how desperately he wanted to say that, to utter those words as a whisper, to have those lovely eyes turn to him with surprise in them that then would change into a reflection of affection and love. If only Aziraphale was likewise in love with him, of course. Because if he was, maybe he would lean closer then, and just against Crowley’s lips he would murmur the sweetest words of adoration.

“Angel…” he murmured.

Aziraphale glanced at him, his sparkle of consternation in his eyes. “Yes, dear?”

“Angel, what if I want…” he breathed out, not being able to finish the sentence. There were so many things that he wanted and most of them connected to Aziraphale. “What if I want you to…”

Aziraphale stopped them both, his eyes wide, pleading. “Please tell me. Please tell me what do you want.” His voice didn’t sound harsh or impatient, no, it was begging, begging Crowley to reveal the truth.

Aziraphale’s reaction was so sudden, and unexpected Crowley lost all his breath and felt unable to say a word. And really he couldn’t, no, he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t say a word of what he was about to utter out loud. Aziraphale surely had no idea what he was asking of him, perhaps he thought it was another one of Crowley’s whims, and as always he cared.

“Nah… Can’t,” Crowley said, sorrowfully.

Aziraphale pulled him closer, holding him by his arms, his fingers clutching his forearms. “If you won’t tell me how can I help you achieve your goal?”

“My goal?” Crowley breathed. Why were they so close? And what was that sparkle that shone in Aziraphale’s eyes?

“Whatever is that you yearn for. I can see how much you do.”

Oh, but if Crowley would tell Aziraphale he wanted him to kiss him, would he comply? Those lips were so close to his anyway, just a bow of Crowley’s head forward and they would be pressed together and…

Crowley needed to sober up, too much alcohol. Definitely too much.

But why then was Aziraphale so close in his reach? So close it would take barely any effort to fall into his arms and kiss him.

He emerged from the trance and pulled back a little. Why would he ever permit for those thoughts to enter his mind? It was all just foul and stupid.

Those lips Crowley couldn’t stop staring at now morphed into an imitation of a smile. “Crowley, please look me in the eyes,” Aziraphale murmured.

Crowley obeyed, finding the object of his gaze to be looking at him full of dolefulness.

“Crowley, please tell me, please finish the sentence you began. Please,” Aziraphale whispered. Crowley didn’t understand what had happened to him, what made him want to hear any of Crowley’s idiocy out loud. Suddenly he was so insistent, and so desperate about this. It didn’t make any sense.

“Nah, no, no I can’t,” Crowley muttered. “Actually, don’t say another word about this. Forget it, please. Promise me you’ll forget it.”

“But-”

“Then why don’t you tell me what you want?”

Aziraphale flinched, his eyes averting to look at anything but Crowley’s face. “This conversation isn’t about me.”

“Tell me for once, you rarely ever do. Or are you not too keen on that?”

“I might be.”

“See, it’s not that easy.”

“Only, you already began telling me and I thought that… that maybe you would like me to hear, would like me to know.”

“Alcohol,” he muttered.

“Oh.” Aziraphale reddened and quickly backed off. “I apologise. I don’t know what got into me,” he murmured.

“Yeah, you got me wondering too,” Crowley cut in. “Why the hell do you want to know what I was about to say so much?”

Aziraphale bit his lip, clearly feeling guilty. “Crowley, I simply think I might know. Only I am not perfectly certain. But if it is what I suspect it is then please tell me.”

“No, you do not. You have no idea what it is. You think you can help, but if you knew you wouldn’t ever want to.”

The sparkle of hope in Aziraphale’s eyes faded away. He let out a small, unhappy sigh. “If you say so, my dear.”

“Promise?” repeated Crowley pathetically.

“I promise I’ll try my best to forget whatever you said today.”

“Thank you.”

For a moment neither of them spoke, their eyes focused on anything but each other.

“Shall we?” murmured Aziraphale at last. He finally looked at Crowley, but some of the previous uncertainty remined in his gaze. He offered Crowley a hand.

After a second of hesitance Crowley accepted it. “Yes, we shall,” he replied.

Aziraphale answered him with a small smile. “Let’s go then.”

For the rest of the way they walked in tense silence, the only reminder that there was still some hope was the fact that their palms were still closely pressed together. Crowley still had problems understanding what had happened. Maybe it was alcohol that ruined his comprehension skills, or maybe they were both very bad at communication. Either way, he hoped the memory of the whole affair would lapse as soon as possible.

When they got to Crowley’s flat the first thing that Aziraphale had done was knocking on the door.

Crowley tsked. “You didn’t have to, it’s probably open.”

“Yes, I am aware of that, but I needed to make sure Anathema will be alerted of the situation,” Aziraphale informed him.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic about this. I came back here drunk a hundreds of times, and she only rolled her eyes.”

In that moment the door opened, and Anathema poked up. When she spotted them both she frowned. “What are you guys doing here? Thought you were at the gala.”

Aziraphale smiled apologetically at her. “Well, yes, we were, but it was starting getting a little late, and Crowley might’ve gotten himself into a certain situation…”

“I’m drunk,” Crowley cut in. “No need to dwell on it.”

Anathema coughed. “You’re what?”

“Drunk,” he repeated unamused.

“Take care of him, please,” Aziraphale said. “I must be going.”

“I can take care of myself, Aziraphale,” Crowley muttered sourly just before his friend grasped him in his arms in an embrace and fled.

Crowley’s eyes met Anathema’s now. Her expression was hardly an amused one, her brows high on her forehead. “How do you even begin to get yourself drunk on a fancy gala?” she asked, seizing him with a rather judgemental look.

“When you have a drink you think has just a little bit of alcohol in it.”

“Ugh, sorry to hear that you’ve been so viciously tricked.”

“This isn’t funny, you have no idea what a bloody stupid thing I said.”

“What? What have you said? Did you declare to everyone that you’re the king of rats, like you did that one time in the Serpent club. I bet they still remember you for that one.”

“Those stupid things might’ve been directed at Aziraphale.” The flush that overtook his face was nothing but embarrassing. Hell, those things he’d said were not only stupid. They were straight out dangerous. Horror flooded his heart as he realised what consequences those things could have. How bloody hard could keeping a few traitorous feelings be? How had Crowley failed at that as well?

Anathema was clearly intrigued. “Aziraphale you say?”

“Yeah,” he let out through gritted teeth. “Very, very stupid things, uhhh.”

She grabbed him by his arm, making him turn to face her. Her eyes were full of excitement. “Tell me.”

He buried his face in his hands, his voice muffled when he let out, “I told him he’s a gorgeous angel.” His cheeks burned. “And that I prefer to look at him than at the paintings.” Now, that Crowley said those words out loud once again, he could clearly see how awfully obvious they were.

“Woah.”

He huffed, looking up. “Yeah, ‘woah’.” The helplessness of the situation only tired him, so he sauntered through the room and fell on the couch lifelessly. “I’m so in love with him,” he lamented.

She came up to him and grinned like an idiot. “Finally! You said it!”

Crowley sighed, feeling truly hopeless. “Yeah, I did,” he muttered. He was way too drunk to care what she thought about the ultimate confession. “I love Aziraphale. I love Aziraphale so bloody much.”

“Huh, you don’t seem too enthusiastic about it.”

“Guess why.”

“Because you’re so pathetic you can’t even tell him that?”

“No, because I can’t tell him that. Has nothing to do with my patheicness.”

She raised an eyebrow. “No?”

Crowley groaned. “I’m too tired for this, seriously Ana.”

“Come on,” she nagged him, “I’m like ninety-nine percent sure he feels the same way.”

“Nah, he likes me as a friend, cares about me as a friend, maybe even loves me as a friend. But I’m certain there’s nothing romantic about it.”

“Even if there isn’t you can try! Ask him on a date, be charming for him, and maybe he’ll see that you have a potential for an amazing partner and will want you.”

Crowley snorted and allowed himself a lazy grin. “So you admit that I’m amazing?” he asked smugly.

She made a face at him. “Only for the sake of this conversation.” There was her hand on his shoulder then, shaking him insistently. “Just tell him.”

“Won’t.”

“Of course, you won’t, you stubborn idiot.”

Crowley groaned impatiently. “You don’t understand any of it. His friendship is too precious to be so carelessly put at risk.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Let me elucidate. Imagine I went to café, and I got a piece of apple pie, now this apple pie will be the representation of Aziraphale’s friendship,” he gesture so that Anathema could imagine a plate with an apple pie standing before them. “This is I must admit the best apple pie I’ve ever had in my entire life and so how can I be upset, how can I be not contented, not ecstatic, I’m having the best apple pie in the world after all. But then I get a little peckish for a scoup of vanilla ice cream, it would go rather nicely with the pie wouldn’t it? The ice cream is the romantic relationship with him. But the need is not really that dire, it’s just a caprice of mine, and I’m still having the best apple pie in the world, besides there’s a chance that if I ask the waiter to add those ice cream to my pie he’ll take it and then the orders will mix up and he might never return it. And I’ll be without my amazing apple pie and definitely without the ice cream. So yeah I’m not risking it.”

“Why do you asexual people always insist on comparing relationships and attraction to food?”

Crowley bared his teeth in a grin. “Dunno. It’s just in our nature.”

Anathema rolled her eyes. “I won’t deny the usefulness of that kind of comparisons, but in this case I really didn’t need that overcomplicated explanation to understand your situation.’’

“I’m drunk, so if you get an overcomplicated explanation don’t be ungrateful.”

She pressed her palm to her forehead. “Whatever, whatever, I’m just annoyed by your constant flushing and blushing before him and being so obvious and not trying to change anything at all.”

“Maybe I am obvious…” he mused.

“You called him a ‘gorgeous angel’, of course you’re obvious!”

Crowley factored her words in. He thought so too, didn’t he? But still inside of him there was hope that that obviousness wouldn’t affect his current relationship with Aziraphale, that somehow Aziraphale would overlook it. “On another, not very positive note, these things that I mentioned were not the only ones that I’ve said today.”

“You’ve said more?”

“Yeah, it did, later. I mean I’ve almost said them. I guess that’s a difference.”

“So what was it?” she asked with suspicion.

“I’ve almost asked him if I can kiss him.”

Anathema pressed her hand to her face. “You’re hopeless, Crowley, completely hopeless.”

“I know.”

“Do you really want to torture yourself like that till the end of time?”

“This is not a torture, let’s not exaggerate.”

“Whatever you say.”

A moment of stillness descended between them, but honestly Crowley felt like talking, he always had when he was under the influence of alcohol, he felt like telling someone, just like he had told Anathema about Aziraphale being his first kiss. Bloody need for venting, what was it for?

“Oh, that angel. That lovely, lovely angel,” he breathed out in lieu of something concrete.

“What the hell is up with the pet-name angel, anyway?” Anathema enquired. “You keep randomly calling Aziraphale that. And every time you do you begin acting like you just didn’t, which by the way, fools no one.”

“Oh, that,” Crowley let out. “You say it doesn’t fool anyone when I deny it? Huh. Might as well start using it regularly. Next time I see him, I’ll say, ‘Angel, pretty angel, please hold my hand forever’,” he muttered sleepily.

Anathema made a face. “I seriously wasn’t asking to hear that. I was asking why you’re using it.”

“That’s actually an old story. Happened years ago. Close to the event of our first kiss. Ouch.” Crowley realised what he’d said, and it made him remember those unfortunate event, which in turn made him rather sad.

“Can you get to the point?”

“You have to be patient.”

Anathema made a face, to which Crowley sticked his tongue out.

“He was reading ‘Romeo and Juliet’ out loud and there’s- there’s a scene in which Romeo calls Juliet an angel and- a funny situation you see… my teenage brain decided that it was a perfect idea to tell Aziraphale that he’s also like an angel and whatever soppy stuff I said back then.”

Anathema rolled her eyes. “Of course it was something like that. Perfectly soppy for you both.”

“We’re never soppy, we’re a perfectly cool pair of people.”

“The only things I’ve noticed between you two is staring deeply into each other’s eyes like your life depends on it, hugging, like, all the time, making lovey-dovey faces at one another when the other one is looking away. The soppiness is dripping from you both.”

“The only thing that we do out of this list is hugging, the rest’s just made up,” Crowley muttered, fighting the urge to stick his tongue out again.

Anathema rolled her eyes. “Yes, and I am queen Victoria.”

Crowley tried finding a counter argument, but his drunk brain was not allowing him to. “Whatever,” he muttered negligently. “I’m too tired for this conversation.” He lied down on the sofa staring off into the distance. “Ough, I can already feel the headache coming on.”

Anathema’s eyes suddenly sparkled. “Oh, goodness, I forgot I’ve got something just for the occasion,” she said. “Wait here.” She leapt to her feet and disappeared in her room.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Crowley called after her, but it was clear he wasn’t going to get an answer.  

When Anathema appeared back, she was bearing something carefully in her hand. “Take this,” she said, offering him a spoon filled with something that resembled a spoonful of mud.

“Wass’that?”

“Aunt Agnes’ post-getting-too-drunk-for-your-own-good mixture. It’s supposed to prevent the hangover.”

He gave an experimental sniff of the grey sludge and instantly moved away. “Bleh. What the hell? Are you trying to poison me?”

“It’s made of only natural ingredients.”

“I don’t care. Get that thing away from me.” He waved his hand helplessly in her direction, trying to shoo her away.

“Aunt Agnes would be very upset.”

“Don’t try to guilt-trip me into taking this,” he said, making a face. “I’m not even drunk, I’m just tipsy.”

“It’s good for tipsiness too,” Anathema assured him.

“Have you ever tried it, then?”

“No,” she said in a manner of a person who took great fun in poisoning their flatmate. “You can be the evaluator though.”

“Anathema Device!”

She only cackled, almost spilling her precious mixture.

~*~

Crowley woke up with a headache and a strong sense that something wasn’t right. Or, rather, that something was up. He rubbed his temples in hopes it would easy the ache, but instead it only made it worse. He picked up his phone purely out of habit and was surprised to find a sticky-note sticked to it. There in a very sloppy, characteristic to his drunk state, handwriting was written: “Call Aziraphale to apologise.”

Crowley stared at the piece of paper until the memories of yesterday came hurrying back. “Damn it, I’m so stupid,” he muttered under his breath and frantically searched through his phone to find Aziraphale’s number.

“Hi,” he said sleepily into the phone. “Not disturbing you, I hope.”

“No, not at all,” replied Aziraphale from the other end. “Is everything alright after yesterday?”

“Ngh, yeah sure, I’m just calling to apologise.”

“Apologise? What for?”

“You know, Aziraphale, you know. I’m sure you remember those things I’ve said.”

“I sure don’t.”

“Really?” Crowley asked surprised.

There was a second of silence at the other side of the phone, then a soft sigh could be heard. “No, actually I do remember. Only, you’ve asked me so nicely to forget them, so I was trying… but it doesn’t seem to work. I’m so sorry, dear,” Aziraphale murmured apologetically.

Crowley groaned, tilting his head back. “Whatever, I’m not mad at you for that. The most important thing is that you do remember, yeah?”

“I do, but I don’t recall anything that calls for apologising.”

“Just let me, okay? I know I probably made you uncomfortable and you deserve an apology for that.”

“But…”

“So, I’m so sorry, Aziraphale, I swear it won’t happen again. At least I hope so. Unless I fall under the influence of alcohol. You know that alcohol makes people say stupid things, yeah?”

“I do, dear and I don’t blame you.”

“But I guess alcohol’s no excuse.”

“Oh, dear, but you haven’t said anything bad really.”

“Angel-” Crowley interrupted in a protest, then paled when he realised what he’d said.

And rightfully so, Aziraphale seemed speechless for a second, as there was nothing to be heard from his end.

“Ssssorry,” Crowley mumbled pathetically, feeling panic overtake him. Had he messed up again? But just like Anathema said the other day, there was a very strong chance that at this point Aziraphale was absolutely used to that nickname. Hadn’t he responded to it like it was nothing, just yesterday? Maybe Crowley was just making a fool of himself.

Aziraphale’s voice was very soft and gentle when he spoke, “Crowley, my dear, whatever you’ve said now or then, of course I forgive you, although I still think that your words weren’t anything to apologise for.”

Crowley sighed in resignation. “Aziraphale, I… yeah, thanks for accepting my apology,” he muttered. “D’you think we’ll be able to see each other on weekend?”

“Naturally,” Aziraphale replied. Crowley could practically hear the gentle smile in his voice.

“Good, uhm- see you, then.”

“Cheerio.”

The soft sound of hanging up could be heard from his mobile. Crowley stared at it blankly, his heartbeat beginning to get back to its regular pace. “Oh, angel,” he muttered and put his phone down.

Chapter Text

Crowley came to work early as Mr. Shirley had asked him to do. He wouldn’t do that for any other employer probably, but Shirleys never asked him to work overtime, so he assumed it had to be something very important. When he entered the shop both Mr. and Mrs. Shirley were waiting for him in the main area of the shop. They greeted him, as usually, very genially, but Crowley couldn’t shake out a feeling that something was off.

“How about a morning cup of tea?” Mrs. Shirley offered with a smile.

“I- yes, um… thank you,” Crowley replied uncertainly.

Surprisingly, they lead him to their flat upstairs. Crowley was there, not very rarely either, but on those occasions it was after work when Shirleys simply wanted to chat with him about whatever that came to their minds, over tea and biscuits. It was never anything serious thus it never took place before his working hours.

The flat was a small thing, consisting of only a kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom. It was still a nice place, considering the prices of flats in London, and the fact that Shirleys owned not only that but also the shop downstairs. Crowley had always liked coming here for it made him feel as if he had some kind of family here in London, who would always welcome him for a cup of tea. His own parents left him here when he reached his adulthood, by moving to Much Hadham. He visited them as often as he could, but the travel by train did last at least two hours so he had to deny their invitations from time to time. It wasn’t ideal but thankfully he had people in London who could call family too.

But apparently today was a day of news, which, Crowley could already sense in the air, were most probably unpleasant. Shirleys were both a little tense he could see, and they kept exchanging glances. When they all finally sat by the dining table where the tea pot was already prepared, Mrs. Shirley poured everyone a cup.

“So, how are you doing?” Mr. Shirley asked, sipping his tea.

Crowley shrugged. He knew the casual question was only a prelude of something more important that was to come. “Fine, I guess,” he responded, attempting to match the same casual tone.

“That’s very well.”

They sat in silence for about a minute, which made the situation even more concerning.

“Anthony, dear, we have to tell you something very important,” Mrs. Shirley said, finally breaking the stillness. That was when suddenly everything clicked. Now Crowley understood what it was all about. He had almost forgotten about his worries, because it was brought up less and less, but why would Shirleys change their mind? After all, they too wanted to have a stress-free retirement. Of course they would…

“We want to leave this shop.”

Crowley sat still, the news, which he had been aware of coming soon, slowly sinking in. Did he just- did he just lose the best job he ever had? And not only that, but also he was about have way less contact with Shirleys and that really didn’t do at all. What was he supposed to do now? He stared unconsciously at Mrs. Shirley and was frankly getting a bit dizzy.

“Anthony?” she asked uncertainly. “Anthony?”

Mr. Shirley patted Crowley on the back. “Don’t worry, that’s not all the news.”

That broke the trance. “No?” he asked surprised.

“Of course there’s more, but first we would like to explain to you why we’re doing this.”

Crowley’s shoulder sank a little. “It’s because of the retirement, yeah?”

Mr. Shirley nodded. “That’s exactly what I was about to say. But you’re a clever young man so it must’ve been obvious to you.”

Crowley scratched the back of his neck. “Maybe… Not sure about the cleverness.”

“We have always dreamt of having a lovely, cosy house somewhere far away from the busyness and commotion of the city,” Mrs. Shirley explained. “So we’ve decided that at last it needs come true.”

“Before one of us dies,” added Mr. Shirley with a wink.

“Richard!”

Despite the tense situation Crowley chuckled, receiving a smile from Mr. Shirley as a response.

“But another thing that we’ve discussed was that…”

“Anthony, we would like you to take over the shop.”

Crowley blinked, and then blinked again for longer. Uh-huh, he wasn’t dreaming. “What?”

Mrs. Shirley smiled leniently, seeing his confusion. “We would rather you to have it than some stranger. And we know how much you love it here.”

“I do, but-” Crowley was absolutely speechless.

“We could rent you the place for an affordable price, one that would be consulted with you.”

This was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, and Crowley was losing his mind. Mrs. Shirley placed a hand on his hand, looking at him with concern. “If you would rather not take this place that’s completely alright. I understand if business managing isn’t for you.”

“No, no, no,” Crowley exclaimed, standing up, his emotions taking over. “I want to, I really want to, I just don’t know what to say...” He’d been just informed of Shirleys leaving, news that was enough to be an earthquake to his reality, to shock him like nothing else could, and now he was being proven wrong. There was something more shocking and he had no idea how to take it. He was supposed to take over the shop? One of his childhood dreams was supposed to come true? His heart was racing, his head reeling. That was impossible, bloody impossible.

Mrs. Shirley stood up as well, giving him a gentle pat on the back. “I understand that it came as a surprise to you, but we thought it would be for the best.”

Mr. Shirley nodded along, in agreement. “Although it’s still up to you to reconsider,” he said. “But we’ll make sure to inform you of everything that is necessary to know before making this sort of decision. And when you’re going to be absolutely positive about this we will help you with opening the shop, registering the business, introduce you to people who sell us some of their flowers and, of course, rent you this place.” He found a piece of paper and a pen lying on the table and scribbled something. “Here.” He got up and approached Crowley. “What do you think of this price of the rent? It’s the one me and Beth both found most reasonable.”

The number, which was written down had, most definitely, at least one zero too little. Crowley stared at the piece of paper with eyes wider than the full moon. “This is insane,” he muttered under his breath. “This is insane,” he repeated louder. “Those are pennies! You want me to pay pennies for this.”

“We wanted to be sure you wouldn’t have any troubles with taking over the business. The price is more symbolic than not.”

Crowley stared at them, feeling as the corners of his eyes began to get wetter and wetter. All of his emotions stared to break free in form of warm, heavy tears leaking from his eyes. Bloody stupid, that was. How was he supposed to deal with customers later with his eyes all red and mind occupied by countless plans and ideas?

“Oh, Anthony,” Mrs. Shirley murmured and offered him a hug. He accepted without an ounce of reflection.

“Mr. Shirley, come here at once,” he insisted and outstretched his arms to hug them both. “Thank you, thank you, thank you so much,” he muttered, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I have no idea what I can do in return.”

Mrs. Shirley smiled. “Just take good care of this shop.”

~*~

As soon as Crowley exited the shop after a day of work, he pulled out his phone and fumbled with it to pick the right contact. When he did, he pressed the device to his ear waiting for the receiver to answer. His heart was pounding against his ribs in anticipation.

“Hello, Tony,” at last he heard a voice from the other side.

“Mum! Hi, uh, ve’got something to tell you,” he let out, his excitement most certainly clear as day.

He heard her laughing softly. “Well, I can barely hear you but go on.”

“Mum,” he held his breath, making a pause, letting some dramatic suspense be involved, “it is very likely that I’m gonna have a flower shop,” he said, then made a happy noise he himself wasn’t aware that he could do.

A peculiar sound was all that he got as a response at first. “You’re going to have a what?” his mum asked.

“A shop, flower shop,” he explained. “I mean, not really have it, just rent it, but like…”

“Tony, listen,” she cut in, “I can barely hear you through this old device.”

He scowled. “What am I supposed to do?”

“How about you visit us, on the weekend. Last time you did it was Christmas…?”

“Christmas, yeah…”

“I really would like to hear the whole story in person, sounds really exciting.”

“Mum, I-” He hesitated. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all… His mum was right, he hadn’t been at his parents’ place in a long time. The trip would tire him a little, but it definitely wouldn’t be a waste of his time. “I can come,” he announced.

“Oh, great,” his mum replied. “Do you want me to prepare your favourite potato casserole?”

“That would be nice, yeah, as a little form of celebration.”

“Good.”

Crowley grinned. “And I’ll tell you and dad… tell you everything that had happened.”

~*~

When he burst into his flat and found Anathema, Crowley couldn’t help but to spill his guts immediately. “Shirleys want me to take over the flower shop!”

“They what?”

Crowley rocked on his heels, like an excited kid. “They said they want me to take over the shop!”

Anathema stood up, her eyes a little wide in shock, and approached him. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” Crowley said happily.

“But are they, like, leaving completely then?”

That was, obviously, the downside of the whole situation, but Crowley was still more optimistic about it than he had been before. For once, the contact with Shirleys, that he had anticipated to be completely cut in this situation, would remain quite stable as they were about to help him with the shop at first. And who knew if they would want to lose complete control over the place, surely they would want to know at least what was going on. “They just want to retire properly, you know?” he said. “But they won’t leave completely, I’m sure.”

Anathema nodded. “That’s good.” She leaned against the wall giving him a stare. “Just tell me everything they’ve told you, gotta know all the details.”

That got her a grin from Crowley. “Sure, you do.”

Everything was so exciting he couldn’t stop talking. He talked a mile a minute and maybe he would never stop, but unfortunately, at some point he felt his mouth go dry. “Excuse me for a second,” he muttered and marched into the kitchen to find a glass and a bottle of water.

Anathema tried to stop him. “Hey! What’s with the shoes in the kitchen? And the jacket?”

Crowley ignored her going in anyway. “I’ll just pour myself a glass of water.”

“C’mon, take your shoes off. Why didn’t you yet?”

Crowley shook his head. “That would be counterproductive. I’m gonna go to Aziraphale’s to tell him too.”

That got him an amused huff. “You’re just going to run there? Right now?”

“Yeah, f’course,” Crowley responded, drinking the water in a breakneck speed, in the meantime. “You don’t understand how exciting this is. I literally feel like telling everyone.”

“You might as well tell our beloved landlord.”

He bared his teeth in a grin. “I might as well.” He went back to the hall and grabbed the doorknob. “But now, I gotta go,” he said, opened the door and disappeared.

At Aziraphale’s, Crowley was in no time. It was when he was standing before his flat and was about to knock on the door that he decided that, no, whatever, he had nothing left to lose and so he barged in without an ounce of an announcement. He found Aziraphale exactly where he had expected him to be, in his studio.

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped as soon as he saw his friend come in so unceremoniously, then with a swift move of his hand he closed the notebook he had apparently been sketching in. “Did you just break into my flat, my dear?” he asked, at last emerging from his shock.

“Yeah, I… Angel, listen!”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.

Crowley blushed lightly. “I mean Aziraphale,” he corrected himself, then faced the fact that it apparently didn’t matter anyway. “I mean angel, or whatever.”

Aziraphale got up, sending an encouraging smile towards his friend. “What is it, Crowley? Will you at least explain what you’re doing breaking into my place like that?”

“So, Aziraphale, I-” he stopped short not being able to contain his excitement.

“Oh, this is something grand, I’m guessing by the reaction.”

Crowley nodded vigorously.

“You’re enthusiasm is almost smellable. And contagious!” Aziraphale rocked on his heels. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“I have slightly bad news and good news.”

“Go on,” Aziraphale insisted impatiently with an air of excitement.

“The bad news is that Mrs. and Mr. Shirley are retiring and leaving the shop.”

Aziraphale freezzed. “Oh, dear,” he murmured, his hands flying to his to his mouth. “Oh, Crowley I am so sorry.” In an instant he was by Crowley’s side, pulling him into an embrace. The grief he emanated was palpable and Crowley almost felt upset himself.

Of course there was no need for that, so he drew away to look in his friend’s eyes. “Hey, hey, Aziraphale don’t worry. There’s still good news,” he assured with a small smile.

Aziraphale looked up at him, a sparkle of hope in his eyes. “Ah, yes, of course. What are they?”

“They want me to take it over.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened in surprise.

“And they said they’ll help me with everything before leaving. You know with all the formalities and how to own a business.”

“You’re going to have your own flower shop!”

“So it seems.”

Aziraphale’s arms flung around him once more. “I will be your first customer,” he promised, Crowley could hear the delight in his voice. “Oh my goodness, that’s wonderful! I’m so so happy for you, dearest.”

Dearest, huh. That was new. It didn’t mean Crowley minded it. But that was certainly very affectionate. But also very nice, very sweet, did weird things to Crowley’s heart, however he didn’t have time for caring. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, I almost can’t believe it.”

“Do you have any plans already? As to what will you do with it.”

Crowley nodded vigorously again. “Obviously I have plans. Many, many plans. Was thinking of renovating the place a bit. It has its age. I could repaint the walls, clean it properly,” he said. “The storage always has been a bit of a mess if you ask me.”

“I could help,” Aziraphale offered.

“Yeah?”

“Of course, I’d love to.”

Crowley wanted to kiss him for that. Was very close to asking if he could, because he was in such a high level of excitement his rationality completely flew away. But, of course, he didn’t, because being excited didn’t mean he was an idiot.

“And well, if you’d like I could perhaps paint something on the walls or on a canvas to hang it there. But that might not fit your style, or I don’t know…”

“You mean you’d…” Crowley waved around, gesturing at the paintings hanging on the walls.

Aziraphale nodded. “I know my style of painting isn’t exactly modern, and perhaps that is what you would prefer, but if you find yourself needing me to add a bit of a decorative touch to the walls, I’m all yours.”

“Oh, oh angel,” he let out, because right now he couldn’t find a more fitting word for Aziraphale than this one. “You would to that for me?”

“Of course, I would.”

Crowley’s heart skipped a bit. Maybe he really should ask Aziraphale if he could kiss him. “I’ll think about it. I’ll let you know and then we could discuss the payment.”

“The payment?”

“Yeah, if you were to decorate the walls…”

Aziraphale halted him mid-sentence, his face expression rigid. “If you try paying I’m going to be extremely cross with you.”

“But that must be an awful lot of work, Aziraphale, you can’t just-”

“Crowley.”

“I’m just trying to support my favourite artist.”

“And I am trying to support my favourite florist,” Aziraphale countered stubbornly.

“Aziraphale, you’re an idiot.”

“No, no, let me get this clearer this time. This will be my gift to you for successfully opening a business.”

Crowley made a face, trying to convey as much discontent as he could. “Will you at least let me provide the necessary tools?”

“I’m not sure.”

Crowley sighed in resignation. “We will have to talk about it later then.”

“Perhaps,” Aziraphale agreed.

“And à propos that, I kinda feel like I’m seriously getting ahead of myself here. So many plans and I’m not even close to owning the shop.”

“There’s nothing wrong with planning ahead, dear,” Aziraphale assured him.

Crowley was suddenly overcome with a crushing fear. “What if I’ll make it go bankrupt?” That was a possibility, wasn’t it? Crowley had no experience in the field of business ownership, and what if that was to prove to be his weakness?

“Don’t you dare say such things,” Aziraphale exclaimed and then unexpectedly his hand was cupping Crowley’s face. “You’ll do fantastically.”

Crowley held his breath, feeling the warmth of Aziraphale’s skin on his skin. “Maybe…” he let out. The sparkles in Aziraphale’s eyes and the confidence in his voice blunted Crowley’s worries.

“Naturally you will. I have no doubts about that,” Aziraphale murmured and stepped back, flushing lightly.

Crowley exhaled, warmth of Aziraphale’s hand lingering on his cheek. He tried not to think about it too much, how good it felt to have Aziraphale so close, but his mind was already buzzing. “By the way, what were you drawing before I came?” he asked in an attempt to change the direction of his thoughts.

Aziraphale flush deepened. “Nothing that would interest you,” he countered.

“I wanna see.”

“Oh, no, I’m afraid I won’t let you.”

“Please?” In all seriousness Crowley was just curious why Aziraphale had closed the sketchbook so fast and now, with all of Aziraphale’s protests, his curiosity was piqued even more.

Aziraphale stole a glance at his sketchbook, uncertainty on his face. “I suppose…” he murmured.

“Yeah, yeah?” Crowley encouraged him.

“I suppose I could…” He took the notebook and then without looking at Crowley passed it to him. “I suppose you can see it. Last page.”

Crowley flipped through it, glancing at other drawings, which were all, as he’d expected, very pretty. Finally he landed on the last page and was surprised to see himself drawn on it. “Me again?” he asked bewildered.

“Yes?” responded Aziraphale, his tone of voice suggesting him being clearly flustered. He was blushing furiously now, staring at the floor. “You see, I simply wanted to practice faces, but I wasn’t sure what subject should I pick. And well, you do occupy my mind quite a lot, so I thought…” he tried explaining.

“No, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

Despite Crowley’s assurances, Aziraphale’s only reddened more. “Oh, goodness, this is so embarrassing.”

Crowley felt his cheeks warm up as well, especially when recalling the “you occupy my mind quite a lot” comment. “Ngk, nah, I’m flattered,” he muttered.

“Perhaps you would like this one too?” Aziraphale enquired.

“No, keep it this time,” Crowley murmured, and attempting to make it a more lightsome suggestion he added, “So you can stare at it at night.”

Aziraphale chuckled nervously. “Oh, Crowley, you menace.” He leaned against his desk, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. “What do I have with you?”

Crowley bared his teeth in a grin. “Many amazing things, in my humble opinion.”

“Very humble, indeed,” Aziraphale muttered. They exchanged amused glances.

Crowley leaned on the desk too, tapping on its surface with his fingers. “You know, I’m going to my parents on weekend.”

That got him a smile. “How lovely.”

“Yeah. Haven’t been at theirs for a long time.”

“It’s nice to visit your parents from time to time, so it’s well that you’ve decided to do so.”

“Gonna tell them the news.”

Unexpectedly, Aziraphale chuckled. “So you are simply running around telling everybody?”

Crowley’s smile was smug when he said, “Yup. Soon everyone will know.”

~*~

Crowley arrived to Much Hadham safely on the Saturday afternoon. From the train station he allowed himself to catch a taxi to take him to the right address. And so, soon he was standing before his parents’ house, preparing himself to enter. The house was a single-story one, with blue slates, white walls and white, wooden window shutters. Surrounding it was a small garden that Crowley’s mum took care of, and since she had begun to do so, had always made sure to make it as English as it was only possible. Crowley had always thought that the only word that could accurately describe this place was just “cute”, even though he refused to ever address it as such.

He made sure to clean his shoes on the doormat and then grabbed the doorhandle. The moment he cracked open the door, he was overwhelmed with the smell of his favourite potato casserole. Soon both his mum and dad emerged from the inside, making their way in his direction.

“Tony!” called his mum and pulled him into an embrace.

His dad took his hand to shake it. “Welcome back home, Tony,” he said.

The welcomes were long and enthusiastic, and both of his parents made sure to express it as vividly as they only could. He had tried to begin the conversation that delivering had brought him here in the first place, but his mum was very much opposed to it.

“First the lunch,” she announced, and gathered them all by the dining table. “You must be very hungry.” She turned to Crowley with consternation in her eyes.

“No, not really, but I won’t refuse the casserole.”

“I hope you had something to eat for the trip.”

“Yes, mom, I did.”

“I hope it was something more than a chocolate bar.”

“Yes, mom, it was,” he replied obediently.

“Okay, that’s good then. Sit down, please.”

Crowley obeyed and despite the fact that, just as he’d said, he wasn’t that hungry, he was still the first person to get to the casserole. And as always it didn’t disappoint and was so damn good. Ultimately, he took a second and a third helping, every time getting a self-satisfied smile from his mum as he did so.

“So tell us, Tony,” she began, when he was finally done eating, “what news are you bearing.”

Crowley took a deep breath, feeling excitement already filling him up to the brim. “You remember when I called you, mum, yeah?”

“I do, of course. You were talking about something you received, as far as I can remember.”

“Yes, in a way,” he agreed and filled his plate with some more casserole. “It’s Shirleys… That day they took me upstairs and told me they’ve got some news for me.” Crowley swallowed a bit of his food, chocking on it between words. “And by that they meant.” He inhaled sharply. “By that they meant they want me to take over their shop, like completely. I mean, they’ll rent it to me for like a ridiculously small price.”

Crowley’s mum broke into a smile. “Oh, Tony, that’s so lovely of them!”

“Lovely? ‘Lovely’ is not a word I’d use for it. More like… completely insane.”

“Well, you worked hard, and they’ve noticed your involvement, I don’t understand what’s insane about this.”

Crowley’s gawked at her. “They want me to take over the business. This isn’t just a silly promotion or something!”

“I understand what you mean, but-”

“Are you sure, you’ll be able to carry an entire business?” Crowley’s dad cut in by asking.

At that his mum made a face and patted his dad lightly on the arm. “Oh, don’t be so pessimistic. Tony will do just fine, right Tony?”

Crowley shrugged. “I’ll do my best.” He couldn’t deny the fact that he was somewhat afraid of ruining the whole thing, like he had admitted to Aziraphale. But what good came from constant fretting? He had to overcome his fears somehow and carry on his plans.

“We know you will,” his mum said and offered him a smile.

Soon after, they strayed from the main topic of Crowley’s arrival and went into the territory of all of the stories and adventures that they had been through when they were apart. Crowley had been informed of the new resident of the house, a stray cat who welcomed himself in and had decided to stay for good, making himself a space in Crowley’s parents’ hearts. Crowley was also enlightened of every possible gossip that was floating around the village, who did what, who was about to marry who, who was suspected of moving the garden gnomes from place to place, and generally a long list of reports of that sort.

Unfortunately Crowley’s dad had to leave by the end of the lunch, because a neighbour came by to request a repair of a broken lawn mower. Among his neighbours Crowley’s father was always the handyman, who never denied anyone help and so they came to him regardless of what was happening or what the time of the day it was. It was clear, Crowley’s mum wasn’t in favour of the lack of assertiveness he presented before everyone, and the fact that he had been, more often than not, simply taken advantage of.

“I’ve always told your father to take some money for all of those jobs his accepting,” Crowley’s mom said, sighing. “Or at least to deny them when it’s not the right time for them. But he’s too stubborn.”

Crowley nodded in agreement. “I know your feeling. Had a similar situation with a friend recently. He offered to do some stuff for the flower shop but refused any payment whatsoever.”

“Which one?” she asked with curiosity.

“Aziraphale, you probably don-”

“Oh, Aziraphale!” His mother looked surprised. “I didn’t know you’ve heard from him.”

Crowley stared at her blankly. “What do you mean?”

“Wasn’t that your friend, from when you went to those art classes?” she asked.

“Yes! But how do you even remember him? I mentioned him once, like ten years ago!”

“Well,” she smiled behind her teacup, “he had an interesting name. And, he was the first crush of yours I knew about.”

Crowley’s eyes widened. “What the hell?”

“Tony! Language!”

He ignored her. “The hell you mean you knew he was my crush?”

She smiled again, a little bit more smugly. “Me and your dad talked about it, when you first mentioned him. You described him as ‘lovely’; you never describe anything or anyone as lovely, my dear.”

“That was all? That was all it took to…?”

“Oh, no, of course not, there were other signs we’ve noticed.”

Crowley stared at her helplessly, mouth agape. “And you both knew, all this time?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Idiots.”

“Really, there’s no need to insult your parents like that. We were worried at the time. It is still, and it was very much frowned upon by some people to be queer. We just didn’t want you to get bullied.”

Crowley softened a little. “Yeah. That’s makes sense.” Then he added. “But that doesn’t mean, you had to gossip about my crush, really.”

His mum chuckled. “It was purely out of mere curiosity,” she explained. “Anyway, will you ever introduce him to me?”

“Perhaps. I don’t know. Maybe someday.”

“I’d really like that.” Then her eyes shone suddenly. “Oh, wait! Are you, like, dating him now?”

Crowley instantly felt himself grow colder. “No,” he replied stiffly. “We bumped into each other close to a year ago, and we’re just trying to reconnect. We are just friends, and we will remain friends. Period.”

“But don’t you like him?”

“That was ten years ago that I did,” he said coldly. He really didn’t want it to go that way, but he was simply tired. Why was everyone pestering him about his feelings for Aziraphale? Why was everyone so insistent he must be dating him? Maybe Crowley wanted that, but so what? Those feelings were his business, and he wanted to deal with them in his own way. “And even if I did now, that doesn’t matter. I’m not going to ruin everything again.”

She looked at him carefully. “Again? So something happened between you two and that was why… that was why you left the art classes?”

“Possibly,” he said, biting the inside of his cheek and looking anywhere else, but at his mother.

“So he knew that you…?”

“Yeah, he knew.” Crowley finally confronted her gaze. “He knew, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Tony.”

He sighed. “It’s okay, it’s just everyone keeps talking about him and me all the time. Anathema is totally insufferable about it.”

“Well, then I will stop talking about him at once.” His mum patted him on the hand lightly. “Speaking of Anathema, how is she doing?”

~*~

The shop worked under Shirleys for some more time, of course. And during it they attempted to pass along everything Crowley needed to know when owning a business. He already had contacts to countless different people that were supposed to help him have everything in place and was, frankly, a bit overwhelmed with all the information he was bearing now.

In the meantime, Mr. and Mrs. Shirley slowly began moving. They had gone in market for a new place some time ago and had found one that came up to their expectations in a small town not that far away from London. And when they’d had, they instantly had begun taking all the actions that were essential to gain the ownership to it. At the same time as they had admitted to Crowley that they were going to leave, they had also just signed the deal. By now, the only thing left to do was to handle all of their belongings and find them a place at their new home.

Then it finally came the time for a goodbye. It was rather gloomy day, Crowley had to admit, parting with people who were so good to him. And even though they weren’t really going from London for good, they still would visit from time to time, he attempted to make the day before their final relocation a wonderful one. He took them to a restaurant, brought them a parting gift and a bouquet to thank them for all the time they spent together, and spent the entire evening with them reminiscing and planning and exchanging stories. Crowley had cried again and Shirleys had cried too, it was a bit of a mess.

And then, then they left. And the flower shop was at Crowley’s full disposal.

~*~

“So what is your plan, Crowley? Reveal it to me,” Anathema requested, grinning.

They were at the shop, preparing to begin a, de facto, renovation that Crowley had planned for the evening. Anathema had come first and next Aziraphale was about to as well. And Crowley was now about to begin his journey with this place, which still seemed a little bit unbelievable.

“Okay, okay.” He went over to the centre of the shop to give a proper presentation of his ideas. “First, the walls.” He pointed at them accusingly. “I’ve never been fond of the weird brown colour they have if I’m being honest and they are kind of ruined, so we’ll start with them.”

“And they’re just going to be white?” Anathema asked, her eyebrows raised, gesturing at the cans of white paint.

“White is the only right colour for a shop’s walls, and you won’t change my mind.”

Anathema’s expression suggested that she was sceptical of his opinion. “What about green? Or yellow?”

“Only the rights shades of them. But anyway white is superior as it never jars with any other colour,” he explained, feeling proud of his irrefutable logic.

“Something else than the walls?” she asked.

“Yeah, of course.” Crowley marched towards the lowly-set, wide pedestal, close to the display window.

“See this area?”

“Yeah.”

“It was always stuffed with different tools, like some random shears and preparations, but I’m planning to put all of that to a cabinet by the counter and make more space for the plants here.”

“Sounds good.”

“F’course it is,” he said, grinning. “But now let’s not stand around so idly and get to work.”

Anathema rolled her eyes. “I got the impression that you were very eager to give me your little presentation.”

“Ngh, no matter.”

That got him another one of her eyerolls. “What do you want us to do then?”

“We can clean up now, so me and Aziraphale can paint the walls later.”

Anathema nodded. And so they began.

In a span of two hours they’d manged to clean up the whole area of the shop, relocating the deserted junk in the back room. They also gave the floor a good cleaning and taped a bunch of old newspapers to it to prevent it from getting dirty again. It was no easy job to prepare the entire space for the painting in such a short period of time, so Crowley was quite pleased with his and Anathema’s work.

“Thanks for help,” he said, when they had finally finished, giving her a grin. “I wouldn’t do this without you.”

Anathema waved him away, averting her eyes from him. “Oh, don’t get all soppy over this. We help each other all the time.”

“Yeah, but I guess this shop is just awfully important to me. And I’m so damn happy I have friends who are so willing to help me.”

She returned his smile now. “That’s how friendships usually work, Crowley. Get used to it.”

“I might never.”

“You better do quickly,” she said, seizing him with a look.

Then she left him, because apparently she had a date planned with Newt for the evening and Crowley would never dare to interfere in such plans. Alone, he decided to begin to paint and to prepare all the needed equipment for it.

Aziraphale came along, no long after Anathema left, bearing a leather bag on his shoulder, and as usually bringing a ray of sunshine with himself.

“What can I help you with, my dear?”

“First of all.” Crowley seized him with a look. “You put this on,” he said and threw an old white shirt at his friend’s face. “Can’t have your fancy attire ruined.”

Aziraphale caught the cloth and took a look. “I brought something with myself, don’t worry.” He put the shirt back and fiddled with his bag, bringing out an old t-shirt and sweatpants.

Crowley stared. “So you came prepared.” He eyed the set. “I didn’t know you even possessed sweatpants… and a t-shirt,” he coughed out, trying very hard not to picture Aziraphale with his arms bare, a vision he was soon to encounter.

“As the matter of fact I do,” Aziraphale declared too smugly. “Though I must admit I don’t use them very often, or rather I use them only when it’s really necessary, like today.”

“Very well, then. You can go change in the other room or something.” Crowley waved a hand at the backroom of the establishment idly.

Aziraphale just smiled. “So I will,” he agreed and disappeared in the entrance of the other room. Crowley waited patiently, already preparing a paint roller and a paint bucket for his friend.

When Aziraphale finally came back, in his scandalous new clothing, Crowley nearly chocked on air. He stared for far too long for it to be appropriate at Aziraphale’s arms. He couldn’t quite put a finger on what made it feel so intimate to be seeing them bare. It was just his friend with a t-shirt on, nothing more. Something that should be a totally normal occurrence, and yet…

What if those surely warm arms were to embrace him, hold him close, what if he could leave a hundred thousand kisses on that soft skin? His knees buckled under him, so he placed a hand on the wall to steady himself. Just one kiss… It certainly would be better than whatever heaven had to offer.

“Crowley, dear, I’m not sure you should be touching that.”

Crowley jumped. “Ah, bloody paint,” he cried. He flapped his hand, which left a visible imprint on the wall, until he found a wet cloth and washed it clean. He cursed as he did so.

Aziraphale only watched with amusement. “Did something distract you, perhaps?”

“What?” Crowley gave him a panicked look. “No, course not.”

“But you sure looked very distracted.” There was only pure smugness on Aziraphale’s face. “Was it something about me?”

“No!” Crowley protested, only then realising he probably did it way too fast for it not to be suspicious. “Just- just stop it ang- ugh, Aziraphale, stop it.”

Aziraphale amusement vanished, morphing into gentle bafflement. “Stop what, my dear?”

“Stop making fun of me.”

“I didn’t think it’d offend you.”

“You didn’t.” Crowley grinned. “You are just annoying.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Then I’ll stop being annoying for you, my dear. Only for a moment though.”

“What was that?”

“You aren’t getting perfect me for long,” Aziraphale said with a wink.

“Get to your work, you idiot.”

Aziraphale chuckled under his breath and finally grabbed the paint roller in this hand, ready to work. “Where should I start?”

“You can to the opposite side of this wall I started,” Crowley said, pointing to the right of himself. “We’ll meet each other in the middle.”

Aziraphale nodded and poured some paint onto an additional tray that had been left unused by Crowley. We moved it to his side of the wall then and carefully began his work. They spent a few moments just doing so, silence lingering between them. Crowley painted his side and Aziraphale painted his, both of them slowly getting to the centre.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” Aziraphale noted, not taking his eyes away from his work.

“Maybe.”

“Did something upset you? Something that I said?”

Crowley made the mistake of glancing at Aziraphale, whose arms were still very much bare, and still very much distracting, so he sheepishly turned his eyes away as soon as he remembered that. “You never say anything upsetting,” he muttered.

“Nonsense,” Aziraphale stated firmly. “I do all the time. You just never let me properly apologise for it.”

“You? Possibly the kindest and sweetest person this world ever had?”

“I know you know me better than that.”

Crowley grinned. “Well, you can be a right bastard, but it doesn’t mean you ever want to upset anyone.”

“That’s not the point. The point is that I might say something unintentionally. You know what a fool you make me sometimes.”

“I sure don’t,” Crowley said frowning.

Aziraphale turned to him, giving him a small, shy smile. “I just feel free with you, free to say whatever is on my mind,” he murmured. “You make more at ease than a glass of a good wine can, and I can’t get enough of it. But sometimes it just makes me say the silliest of things,” he explained.

For a second Crowley stood frozen, processing each and every word of Aziraphale’s declamation. At first the only thing he was able to utter was a soft “oh”, but then he quickly reflected. “No, it wasn’t you, you didn’t upset me, angel,” he assured and cleared his throat. “…Aziraphale.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Crowley finally stole a glance at Aziraphale, this time looking him directly in the eyes. It would only take about three steps to approach him and kiss him. And wouldn’t that be lovely? Crowley’s heart really liked that idea, but his brain wasn’t so keen on it so instead he just went back to his work.

“I’m so happy you were finally able to rent this place, it’s lovely,” Aziraphale said.

“Yeah,” Crowley breathed out. “It’s everything that I wanted. Something that I dreamed of since I was a child.”

“You deserve it, my dearest, you truly do.”

They worked in silence the rest of the time, but silence never felt more comfortable. Just a reminder of Aziraphale being there was a reminder of how much Crowley loved him. He loved him for everything, his smile, his wit, his laughter that rang sweeter than music, and just for his presence, and for being his best friend. It was true that loving him was painful from time to time, but the part of it that stood out more was the fact that loving him was also the best thing Crowley could have. It just felt… peaceful and a little exciting and like a bunch of stray butterflies that were let lose between them both. It felt good to love.

When, in the end, Aziraphale had to leave, he quietly went to change in the other room and collected his things without disturbing Crowley. Even though Crowley had to admit that he wouldn’t mind being a little disturbed. At first he had thought that his friend would leave without even saying goodbye, but before exiting Aziraphale stopped in the doorway, as if waiting for Crowley to say something first.

“Why are you staring?” Crowley decided to ask.

Aziraphale exhaled some air in light amusement. “I’m simply admiring you, my dear.”

“What is there to admire? Just me painting a wall.”

“You’d be surprised how much there is actually.”

Aziraphale didn’t drop his gaze, still giving Crowley his full attention. “You know that I love you, right?” he asked, the tone of the question so light.

Crowley’s heart stopped for a moment, processing the words. It was a full few seconds later that he noticed that he’d dropped his paint brush on the floor so he rushed to pick it up. “What? I mean- uhh- you mean like love me as a friend?”

“I do love you as a friend, of course, but...”

“But?”

Aziraphale sighed softly, but a small smile still lingered on his lips, nonetheless. “But nothing, my favourite silly goose.”

Crowley made a face “Hey, I’m not a silly goose!”

“You really have no idea…”

“Oh, you stop with beginning a sentence and not ending it. Why won’t you just tell me? It’s so infuriating.”

“You do the same all the time dear. And I simply-” Aziraphale hesitated. “I think that the ending of that sentence could use a much better occasion.”

“By that you mean…?”

“I mean an occasion on which we aren’t both tired after a day of hard work.”

“Hmm…” Crowley breathed out. “Is it an important thing?”

Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully. “Depends on how you look at it. In the grand scheme of things it might be considered very unimportant and rather bothersome. Sometimes I even think it’s more of a question than a statement.”

“Huh, bothersome questions?” Crowley huffed. “That’s definitely not my field.”

“Yes, dear. Maybe not.”

Aziraphale stood in the exit for a second more, fiddling with a strap of his bag. “Would you care for a lunch this weekend?” he asked at last.

“At yours?”

Aziraphale nodded.

“Sure, could be Sunday, yeah?”

Aziraphale nodded again, then smiled to himself in a way that Crowley could only describe as distracted, he was looking at his own shoes appearing a little bit flustered too. “Well, I’ll be on my way then,” he said.

Crowley put his paintbrush down and turned to him properly. “See you,” he bid him goodbye, sending Aziraphale a smile.

Aziraphale smiled back. “See you on the weekend... dearest.”

Chapter Text

Aziraphale closed the door behind them and rested against them with a soft sigh.

Crowley only manged to take his shoes off when he heard a muffled ping from his pocket. He fished out his phone and tutted at the timing. “Sorry, I’ll just check what it is, ‘kay?”

“Of course.”

Crowley eyed the screen, then cursed under his breath. “It’s my landlord.”

“Something urgent then, I suppose.”

“Our rent...” Crowley said reading through the message, “...he’s says we didn’t pay our rent, apparently.”

“And did you?” asked Aziraphale eyeing him.

“Of course we bloody did!” he exclaimed and started typing a response.

“Well, that’s peculiar.”

Crowley hated that he had to handle this right now. He was supposed to have a nice Sunday lunch with his friend, not have to worry about some infernal error of his infernal landlord. “I’ll ask him to check again.”

“Take your time, dear.”

Crowley looked up to see Aziraphale staring at him with a gentle glim of fondness in his eyes, he looked so bloody cute Crowley’s heart flipped in his chest, he shot him a quick smile and glanced back at his phone, trying to focus on his problem at hand. Another message popped up after his own.

“Oh, he says he’s sorry. Apparently, he overlooked it.” He snorted. “My landlord just apologised to me. A bloody miracle.” He wrote a reply and checked his messages again.

“Are you done yet, my dear?” Aziraphale asked, not impatiently.

“Yup, I’ll just...” Apparently Crowley’s landlord needed to extend their conversation and produced more messages for Crowley to reply to.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured softly.

“Mhmm,” was the only thing that Crowley produced while simultaneously trying to give his landlord the low-down that he was quite busy right now, thank you very much, and he would very much like to end this exchange.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale repeated, this time a little louder, “Could you look at me?”

“Uhh, yeah, yeah.” Crowley raised his head and gave his friend his full attention. “So sorry, angel.” He bit his tongue. “I mean, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, and began a little hesitantly, “I must admit that inviting you to lunch was a bit of an excuse.”

Crowley frowned.

“I just think we need to talk.”

“About what?” Whatever it was it sounded serious, Aziraphale looked serious too, his lovely face graced with worry.

“You calling me angel, for instance.”

Crowley chocked on his breath. “What?” He forced his phone back to his pocket and gaped at Aziraphale with wide eyes. “Does it bother you? I don’t, I didn’t mean to say it, I mean, I mean it but- uhhh, sorry I didn’t know it made you feel uncomfortable, sorry.” He shut himself up, judging by the look on the Aziraphale’s face Crowley wasn’t helping the situation.

“Take a deep breath Crowley. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Oh.”

“But it just made me think of something.” Aziraphale took a deep breath then as if he was preparing for a taxing conversation. Was it the time for those ‘bothersome questions’ perhaps? “You called me that only twice, when we were teenagers. Once, when we first kissed. And the other time one day before we did.”

Aziraphale had never brought up the time they kissed, ever. He had brought many things concerning their feelings for each other, but the kiss was an off-limits topic. Something had to be seriously wrong. Crowley regarded him carefully, trying to understand what all of this meant.

“And I remember quite clearly, what you told me back then, on why you used that endearment.” Aziraphale’s eyes softened. “All the lovely things you said. I know now that that word was only a mere cover of the feelings that you felt for me, isn’t that right?”

Crowley gulped. “Uhh, yeah...”

“And I couldn’t help but wonder, and I usually really hate to make such wild assumptions, but if that’s what it was then, could it possibly be the same thing now? Could that mean that you feel something for me now, too?”

Oh

So that’s what it was about.

Crowley stood there frozen, unable to force anything meaningful out of his throat, anything that could possibly fix the situation. He wanted to cry. Cry and let the ground suck him up on the spot. He let his feelings roam free in his heart again, just like ten years ago, he didn’t supervise them enough, he let them slip out and be out there for Aziraphale to notice. What would be the point of trying to pretend that he wasn’t utterly, completely in love with him, now? It would be foolish to think he could hide it. So that was it then, that was the end of this happy little frivolous relationship he let himself have. “Yeah,” he let out, “yeah, my feelings are... I’m sorry Aziraphale, I’m so, so sorry.” He buried his face in his hands. “I just couldn’t keep myself from it, you’re just so- Aziraphale you’re so- so lovely. I’m just ruining our friendship again, aren’t I? You wanted to be friends, and you deserve that, you deserve a friend who isn’t pathetically in love with you, and I can’t... I can’t not be in love with you, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he repeated. The best decision he could make right now was probably excusing himself and leaving Aziraphale the damn alone, because he probably need space, both of them needed space, but then Aziraphale’s hand landed on his lips, successful shutting him up.

“Shhhh,” Aziraphale murmured. “That’s quite enough of that.”

Crowley’s eyes widened.

“I am terribly upset that you could ever think those things you just mentioned. You are not ruining our friendship, my dear, and I’ll be not having you think that. Or well, maybe in a way...” A thoughtful look. “Maybe in way you are ‘ruining’ our friendship. Though I’m not quite certain if that’s exactly the term I’d use to call it, I’d still like to remain your friend, after whatever happens today.”

Crowley wanted to say something, to ask what exactly Aziraphale meant, but his friend’s hand slipped from his mouth to his cheek and was now very gently cupping it, and Crowley could not for the love of God get a single word out of himself, except from a shocked little “ngk.” And then unexpectedly another hand found itself on Crowley’s chest, urging him to go backwards, just a step, then two, until he was very much being pressed against a wall by Aziraphale. He was surely going to die, because of how damn close they were to each other.

“I don’t mean it as an insult when I say that you are a total idiot sometimes,” said Aziraphale his face lighting up in passing mirth. “For almost a year, now, I waited, I hoped you’d see, hoped you’d make the first move, but then I realised something. I noticed that you are very much stuck in the belief that your romantic feelings towards me are definitely, without a doubt bad, because once they lead to an unfortunate event. You’ve decided that what I said when we first kissed is a determinant of our current relationship, isn’t that right?”

Crowley managed a nod.

Aziraphale took it in. “Should I remind you who said that? Said that I when I was fourteen. Fourteen, my dear, do you understand? I just had my first kiss, and I was shattered because I had no idea I could feel so strongly about someone. I thought about it later and I came to the conclusion that whatever I felt towards you was quite definitely love. I might not remember a lot, but I recall that I mentioned that you were my favourite person, and it was true, you were. You were my favourite person, and you were my everything. And my teenage heart was not ready for that realisation, not prepared for someone to be my everything. I needed time, but now that time had passed, more than ten years.” The corners of his lips went up a little then, to a small, playful smile. “And I never told you that right now I don’t want you to kiss the hell out of me.”

Crowley’s jaw dropped. “Angel, no, you can’t mean it.”

“I very much do,” Aziraphale assured. And, oh, he was so dangerously close, he thumb was tracing Crowley’s jaw, was making Crowley’s knees go weak.

“Are you sure?”

Aziraphale nodded. “So could you please, the sweetest treasure of my heart, kiss me?”

Crowley couldn’t believe what was happening, surely, he had to be dreaming. He was getting dizzier by the second.

“My dear, there’s nothing more I’d wa-”

Aziraphale didn’t get to finish his sentence, because Crowley decided that it was better not to risk wasting his time before he would wake up and crossed the distance between them.

And… Aziraphale was there. He hummed softly in reply to the kiss. Crowley lost himself in it, he barely could breathe when he realised that he was very much being kissed back. No, no, it couldn’t be true. Only, it was, apparently. Aziraphale was kissing him, and so damn sweetly, Crowley nearly lost all of his senses.

He finally broke the kiss. Aziraphale was there, blinding him with what was possibly the happiest smiles Crowley ever got to see from him. “My darling,” he murmured, caressing Crowley’s cheek, to which he closed his eyes savouring the sensation.

“Angel, please tell me I’m not dreaming,” he breathed out. “Please.”

“Well, I really hope not.”

Crowley opened his eyes once again. “Aziraphale… I- you- angel. I just want to tell you… tell you everything, all of my feelings… but I lost all words, I think…” he gulped. “Sorry.”

Aziraphale just gave him a soft smile. “You can do it later, I promise.”

“Yeah, I guess I can.”

“But right now I know there are other ways of showing me how you feel, that don’t require words.”

“Indeed there are.”

And then they were kissing again.

This time around Aziraphale’s hands slid from cupping Crowley’s face to the back of his head to be buried in his hair. Crowley shivered under the touch of his fingers brushing his scalp. He was being intoxicated by those kisses, by Aziraphale’s lips moving against his. And damn, he wasn’t sure if ever wanted to that to end, maybe kissing Aziraphale for eternity was an option. When the kiss broke the only thing he was able mumble was, “Angel, take me with you.”

Aziraphale made a small, confused noise. “Take you where?”

“I don’t know, to your room maybe. Keep me there and kiss me forever,” Crowley breathed out against his lips.

“You will get bored eventually.”

“Won’t. Please do.”

“But it’ll be a whole lot walking, I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Then take me somewhere closer.”

Aziraphale slumbered into a moment of thoughtfulness. “Best I can offer is the sofa,” he murmured.

Crowley nodded vigorously. “Yes, oh yes, the sofa. I bloody love that sofa.”

Crowley was pretty sure he knew the directions to their destination, so he let himself push Aziraphale forward and lead them towards it. They both landed on the sofa, in each other’s arms, their lips crushing together again. And just between those sweet, shared kisses Aziraphale pulled back a little, “I love you,” he murmured, and something in those words seemed to make him terribly gleeful, because the corners of his lips raised up in a delicate smile. Crowley was frozen for what it seemed like would be a second, but soon more words came and those were even sweeter.

“My love, my darling.” Aziraphale’s eyes were shining, and Crowley couldn’t breathe. “My sweetheart. I love you, I love you, I love you.” Each of those sentences was marked with a gentle, but a lethal kiss. Crowley could listen to that and let himself be kissed forever, but soon it became clear that it would be impossible for him to stop himself from kissing back. So he did, trying to pour as much affection as those words Aziraphale uttered, held.

They had to stop kissing at last, to Crowley’s dismay. But he had to admit that there were things he wanted to tell Aziraphale without having to desperately gasp for his breath between kisses and this was the moment he reckoned was perfect for this. “Angel, wanted to tell you that I…”

“Oh, I do love when you call me that.”

Crowley flushed involuntarily. “Yeah?”

“Naturally,” Aziraphale murmured. “But, anyhow, I apologise for interrupting you. What were you about to say?”

“So, I was thinking we could get to the talking part, eh?”

Aziraphale smiled cheekily. “I suppose. If you want to get to it,” he murmured and then ducked his head forward to press a quick, sweet kiss to Crowley’s lips.

“Now that’s just temptation. Didn’t know angels could do that.”

Aziraphale simply giggled and then grabbed Crowley by his arm and pulled him closer to himself to capture him in a tormenting cuddle. “Tell me whatever you need to,” he said and gave Crowley another kiss, this time on his temple.

“I think you need to stop kissing me, because this way I’ll never focus.”

“I apologise, darling.” He looked anything but remorseful.

Crowley fell silent for a second, wondering how he should start the conversation. There was so much he wanted to say, so much to confess. Now that Aziraphale was so close to him and so willing to listen. He realised he was still very much staring at his lips instead of his eyes, which truly was ridiculous. How much more time could he spend thinking of kissing that angel? He shivered at the thought. “Oh-h, I can’t believe I kissed you,” he let out involuntarily.

“I’m terribly glad you did,” Aziraphale murmured softly, his facial expression changing to a one of a delicate, but unguarded delight. “Terribly, terribly glad.”

Now the realisation was sinking in, leading Crowley into this impossible reality in which Aziraphale actually wanted him the way Crowley wanted him. “I’ve actual kissed you, and you kissed me,” he let out in disbelief. “And, woah, not only that but then we also made out for, like, eternity.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “What a way to call our first kiss,” he muttered. “Or, well, not our first, but something like that.”

Crowley tsked. “I don’t count that other one as our first kiss. I would rather give that title to the kiss that we were both very much ready for.”

“Well, nonetheless, which of these we consider the first one, I must admit I loved both.”

Crowley glanced at him, surprised. “Even that disaster ten years ago?”

Aziraphale nodded. “It just- it gave me so much to think about. Gave me a lot more bravery to let myself actually participate in romantic relationships. However silly that sounds…”

“No, no, angel, that’s great. It’s good that something good came out of it.”

“Yes, I’m sure you remember quite clearly that I might’ve been a little scared of dating.”

Crowley straightened up, feeling an immediate need to fight off Aziraphale’s guilt over such matters. “I mean, you were only fourteen, angel. Didn’t have to be ready for anything, you never have to force yourself into things you are not ready for. You never had to start dating either, if you didn’t want that.”

“I know. But I wanted to,” said Aziraphale, his voice not only filled with guilt, but also some regret. “I wanted to with you.”

Crowley sucked up his breath. “It didn’t work out though, didn’t it?”

Aziraphale bit his lip, his gaze wandering somewhere far away. “I regretted it so truly, dear, so very much,” he murmured.

Crowley couldn’t let the sadness sink into the conversation too much, so he sent Aziraphale a smile, rubbing his arm gently. “But now it’s all good, doesn’t matter we messed up a little then. Now, we can be happy together.”

“Yes, that’s true, dearest.” Aziraphale’s tone of voice sounded a load more hopeful, Crowley noted.

They both, it appeared, had to process their conversation in silence for a bit. It was still slightly unbearable to talk and think about those memories, but it had to be done. It was okay though, because earlier they had had to be all alone with that, but now, now Crowley was cuddled in Aziraphale’s arms and now they were together and now they knew everything changed. It was good, they were going to be good.

Crowley’s eyes met Aziraphale’s, and his heart did a nervous flip inside of his chest. Aziraphale loved him, he reminded himself and those words felt so unreal his heart did another weird thing that was hard to explain. But it was true, Aziraphale loved him, and Crowley could let himself love him as well. It felt so damn freeing, knowing he didn’t have to hide those feelings anymore, that he could utter them out loud anytime. Oh, yeah… Exactly… He could utter them anytime. “I might’ve forgot to say the most important thing,” he said out loud, feeling a tad sheepish at that discovery.  

“What is it, sweetheart?”

Crowley took a deep breath before saying words he wished he would’ve said so much earlier. “I love you.”

Apparently it didn’t matter that Aziraphale was already very much aware of Crowley’s feelings, because as he heard those words he let out a soft squeak of excitement. “I love you too,” he murmured.

Crowley couldn’t help but continue. “I loved you ten years ago angel, and when I met you again I fell in love with you once more. It’s because you’re the sweetest person to ever exist, hope you know that.”

Aziraphale let out a shaky breath, his expression fighting between a smile and one in complete awe. “Oh, darling,” he whispered. He collected himself afterwards, although his eyes still shone with wonder. “I suppose if that’s the topic we’re picking now, I cannot let myself forget to mention a few qualities of yours, which I adore, as well. After all, our situation doesn’t quite differ so as you thought it did.”

Crowley felt his cheeks grow warm, but he still gave Aziraphale a smirk. “Fire away,” he said, attempting to give his angel a cocky glance. “All my qualities.”

Aziraphale replied with an amused eyeroll. “You’re the most handsome, clever, charming man I’ve met. Ten years ago you had me at hello and it was all the same when we reunited. I was smitten, Crowley, utterly smitten, when I saw you pick up my books.” Crowley could see all that adoration, which was contained in his words, in Aziraphale’s gaze, and it was making him positively dizzy. “You don’t even know how afraid I was you wouldn’t want to speak to me again, after what happened. But you did! And I was so happy that I even let myself try to hint that I might be interested in you, um… in a romantic sense.”

Crowley sat up, his eyes widening. “You did what? When?”

Aziraphale gave him a shy smile. “It was a very vague hint, I’m afraid, so I’m not surprised you didn’t pick up on it. I simply attempted to emphasize that I am very single and that I am quite happy that you are single too, because… you know.”

“Huh, now that you say it, I do recall a conversation like that,” Crowley mused.

“Well, yes… Now that really doesn’t matter, doesn’t it?”

“I guess, I’m glad we’re still both single…”

Aziraphale chuckled. “That’s definitely an important point.” He glanced away then, as if he was looking for words that could get them back on track of their main topic. Crowley admired him for that second just as he’d always liked to do. Aziraphale’s curls, his softness, and even his questionable fashion choices, everything that made him him, Crowley admired. And when Aziraphale looked back again, he could also admire those lovely blue eyes.

“Crowley I just,” Aziraphale began once more, “I just want to tell you that I hope that I’ll get to keep you in my life forever. As my best friend and my partner.” He flushed at that. “I think I’ve understood it correctly that we’re both interested in a relationship.”

Crowley nodded vigorously. “Should I properly ask you out, angel? What do you think?”

“You can,” Aziraphale said in a whisper, clearly delighted by the idea.

Crowley sat up properly, escaping Aziraphale’s arms for a moment. Despite the fact that he knew what answer he was about to receive to his question, he could feel himself becoming jittery. “Would you like to, Aziraphale, my dear best friend, go out with me?”

Aziraphale’s hands flew to catch his. “Yes!” he cried. “Yes, dearest!”

He tugged Crowley, bringing him close to his chest once more. At that Crowley’s tension completely dissolved into thin air. He pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s collarbone. “We should plan a date,” he said.

“A date! Of course!”

“How about the next Friday? We could go to your favourite sushi place.”

Crowley had always found it enchanting when Aziraphale’s eyes shone like that in a response to something that he’d said. Now it was even more disarming when he knew for sure that behind that sparkle was love. “Sweetheart, I’ll meet you on any day of the week, any time.”

Crowley released a sound filled with delight. “Friday that is,” he said and buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale kissed him on the top of his head, humming thoughtfully. “We’re going to go on a date,” he said.

“We are, we are,” Crowley repeated.

Aziraphale pulled back slightly to look him in the eyes. “I’m going to go on a date with the handsomest man in London,” he uttered happily.

Crowley grinned. “Only in London?”

“Well, perhaps in the whole world.”

The sound that Crowley made then was a mix of laughter and excitement, which came from hearing those sweet words from the actual handsomest man in the whole world.

Aziraphale kissed him on the nose. “Your giggle is so adorable,” he murmured with glee.

“I don’t giggle,” Crowley protested.

“Oh, you just did.”

“Maybe that’s an exceptions, it’s because I’m so damn happy.”

“Are you now?” Aziraphale’s asked softly.

Crowley rolled his eyes. Did he really have to spell it out to Aziraphale for him to understand it? “F’course I am! I’m going on a date with you, angel. And- and you want to be in a relationship with me! I have a damn lot of reasons to be happy!”

Aziraphale beamed, his hand landing on Crowley’s cheek to caress it. “I dreamt of this day happening, you know my dear? Of us being together. And we truly are about to be,” he let out happily.

“Yeah, yeah, we are,” Crowley agreed, nodding along the words. “And I am going to tell everyone, might even scream from the top of some building, that I have the cutest partner in the world.”

Aziraphale giggled. “I’m pretty sure most of our friends are rather aware by now that we are in love.”

And if that wasn’t true… “Yeah, Ana, for instance, she’s been constantly tormenting me, saying I have to confess to you. Even before I told her I’m in love with you, y’know?”

“Oh, dear, I admit that she really liked hinting at the fact that you may feel something for me.”

Crowley shook his head in disbelief. “Nhh, of course she did.”

“She kept telling me how much you think about me and how much you like me. Yes, she emphasized that word all the time.”

Crowley snorted. “Ridiculous woman.”

“But it was all the same with Harry.”

“With Harry, seriously? What did he tell you?” It was a bit of a surprise as Crowley hadn’t taken Harry as someone eager to gossip, he was the type of man for whom Crowley could find only one fitting word to describe him and it was “unsordid”. But anyhow, Crowley’s memories of the evening he’d met him were somewhat hazy, so perhaps he’d judged Harry’s character falsely.

“Well, after the gala I revealed to him that I did fancy you quite a lot,” Aziraphale explained, his cheeks colouring a lovely shade of red. “And he wasn’t at all surprised.”

“Hmm, I wonder what that meant…”

“Probably that I was terribly obvious.”

“We were both,” Crowley insisted.

“Well, maybe… When I told him I’m unsure if you liked me back he said, and I quote, ‘Mate, this man is in love with you’.”

Crowley couldn’t help but cackle. “I kind of outed myself with that drunk idiocy and the ‘gorgeous angel’ part.”

Aziraphale sighed with a small dose of amusement. “I was so mad at you for that, dear, and never wanted to kiss you more.”

Crowley gave him a glance full of wonder. “I wish you would.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “You were under the influence of alcohol, my dear, so it wouldn’t feel right to kiss you. Besides, I needed to know for sure if you wanted that too.”

“I almost told you, was so damn close to telling you,” Crowley mumbled. “But you knew didn’t you?”

“I can’t tell you that I knew, only that I’ve suspected,” Aziraphale replied.

“Just like all of those people…”

“That’s true,” Aziraphale admitted. “Oh, and Leslie, too kind of. When I contacted her later she mentioned you and kept calling you ‘my crush’.”

Crowley sighed, disbelief filling him to the brim. “I can’t believe all those people were onto us and I couldn’t figure out that you loved me back.”

“Maybe you did at some point,” Aziraphale murmured. “But I think you were simply so fixated on the thought that I couldn’t possibly feel anything for you that you rejected those ideas.”

“I guess, there were moments that made me suspect that maybe you had some feelings for me, but I was quick to brush them off.”

“And I thought I was terribly obvious!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “And I’m very serious here! I was even trying to give you hints. Sometimes I wondered if I’m not going too far. With the proposition of sleeping in one bed, or the kiss on your cheek.”

“So the kiss was no friendly?” Crowley asked in surprise.

“To be honest I didn’t much think about that at the time. I was simply so happy with you that I needed to expresses it. I simply feared it may give you a more romantic impression.”

“I did freak out, kind of…”

“Oh, dear.”

“I just kinda panicked because I realised how in love with you I was, and that I couldn’t do anything about it,” Crowley explained.

“I apologise, darling,” Aziraphale mumbled, guilt in his voice. “I wasn’t aware what the kiss would cause,”

Crowley tugged him closer, cupping his face. “No, shh, angel, you don’t have to apologise. M’not even mad. Never was.”

“Are you certain?”

“Perfectly certain.”

Aziraphale relaxed, his hand wandering up to press itself to Crowley’s.

“Angel,” Crowley murmured.

That got him a happy sounding hum as a response.

“My angel.”

This time Aziraphale giggled softly. “Yes, yes I am yours.”

It was so cute Crowley couldn’t help but a press a kiss to his lips. It was longer one, this time, so when they both pulled away their breaths were uneven and heavy.

“For how long are you planning to keep kissing me like that and not letting me go?” Aziraphale asked, his voice not too convincing that he actually wanted that to happen.

“I’ll probably stay for as long as takes you to realise that it’s late and you should probably hound me out. Hope it will never happen,” Crowley muttered, clinging to Aziraphale’s arm.

“Well, I might’ve been secretly hoping you would like to stay for the night,” Aziraphale murmured.

Crowley’s heart skipped a beat at first, the forwardness of the proposition surprising him, but then he relaxed. “Ask me,” he replied playfully.

Aziraphale smiled at him sweetly. “Will you stay for the night, darling?” he asked.

Crowley straightened up slightly and tugged Aziraphale by his shirt to get their faces to be on the same level. When he achieved his goal he pressed a long, gentle kiss to Aziraphale’s lips, making sure it was as sweet as only could make it. When he broke it he smiled cheekily at his angel and answered, “Yes, I will.”

“Who is the one tempting now?” Aziraphale breathed out, his gaze still evidently focused on Crowley’s lips.

“Y’know angel, now you’re just giving me ideas,” Crowley replied with a smirk.

“Oh, good lord.”

“Now I’ll just try to tempt you more, to as much kisses as I can...”

“Fiend,” Aziraphale muttered.

“…and cuddles! I’ll tempt you to a lot of cuddles! Isn’t it just so demonic of me?”

“Kisses and cuddles, the most demonic activities in the world, of course,” Aziraphale said, nodding solemnly.

Crowley bared his teeth in a grin. “Yup, very demonic.”

“I’m unfortunately forced to inform you that we will have to stop with all of those temptations at some point.”

Crowley groaned dramatically, clinging to Aziraphale helplessly. “I can’t face the thought that I’ll have to stop cuddling with you. That’s impossible, being somewhere else than in your arms.”

Aziraphale leaned closer, his breath brushing the shell of Crowley’s ear. “You know that this flat still very much has only one bed,” he murmured.

Crowley’s eyes widened. “Yes, that is true.”

“That might mean that for tonight we might happen to find our self in the same bed.”

Crowley nodded in agreement. “We might be very close to each other too.”

“Of course, we might. And doing the most romantic thing two people in love can do in bed.”

“Cuddles,” Crowley muttered.

“Cuddles,” Aziraphale repeated.

They both dissolved into unrestrained fit of giggles.

A thought that came to Crowley’s mind, diffused him though. “I didn’t mention, angel, but… uhm, I’m really glad that you’re ace too, you know?”

Aziraphale collected himself as well, his hands founding Crowley’s, his expression filled with joy. “Oh, dearest, I can’t express how of a relief it was when I found out that you were asexual. I was so smitten with you, but so afraid that if we were ever to be together it would all just end like my other relationships did, that you would have to leave because we would differ in our needs,” he murmured.

Crowley smiled to himself. “Yeah, I guess, I’m just happy that we don’t even have to think about that other activity people do usually in beds, that we’re both ace and we found each other."

Now Aziraphale raised Crowley’s hands to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to each of their backs. “We did, darling, and I find it rather ineffable don’t you?”

Crowley nodded, letting himself soke in Aziraphale’s love and intoxicating words and kisses. It was nice to adore, but also nice being adored. He relaxed in Aziraphale’s arms and let himself fall silent for a while.

“I’ve always been a night owl, you know?” Crowley muttered at last.

“Yes?” Aziraphale was observing him with curiosity.

Crowley nodded. “But something about the fact that I will get to cuddle with you makes me want to go to bed before ten.”

Aziraphale chuckled.

“Hell, maybe even before eight.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Aziraphale said and then kissed Crowley right on his lips, silencing him for a bit.

“Shutting me up with kisses, are we now?” Crowley let out, feeling rather lightheaded.

That earned him a smirk. “It seems like an effective method so I might have to use it more often.”

Crowley just grinned. “I will happily participate in that.”

“Will you?”

“Yes, I-” Aziraphale kissed him again. “Angel!”

“I thought you said you’ll be happy to be a part of this activity.”

“Yes, I did, but-” Another kissed shut him up. Goodness, that angel was really going to be the end of him. But, anyway, now there were more important matters to take care of than to think about that… Crowley kissed Aziraphale back.

Chapter Text

Crowley had come back to his flat early in the morning, and it was not because he had wanted to. Obviously, he hadn’t wanted to. But unfortunately Aziraphale had had to go to work. It had been nice though, waking up in his arms and kissing his curls that were all squashed and snarly after sleep. Now, Crowley could truly appreciate the cuteness of sleepy Aziraphale, could call him highly kissable and kiss him just after that, and Aziraphale would kiss him back with that adorable smile of his and call him all those nifty endearments. That was pretty much everything he’d dreamt of, and it was all coming true now.

To celebrate this wonderful occasion Crowley decided to purchase a bottle of cheap wine and generously labelled it as celebratory champagne.

Celebrating alone wasn’t that fun though, so he patiently waited for Anathema to show up. And when she finally did the gracious act of coming back after work, he opened the wine.

“Want champagne?” he enquired nonchalantly, spinning his own glass, filled with the liquor already, in his hand.

Anathema stepped into the kitchen, her face marked with a frown. “You have actual champagne?”

“Nope,” he replied with a grin and swayed up his glass to his mouth to get another sip. “But do you want it?”

She sent a sceptical look towards the bottle. “Hmm, not even close to champagne, but I’ll take it.”

Following her words Crowley filled another glass with wine and handed it to her with nonchalance.

She accepted the offering and soon brought the glass to her lips to take the first sip, but Crowley stopped her by pulling her arm down. “What?” she asked confused.

“Not without the toast,” he informed. She rolled her eyes but waited until he got his “champagne” ready as well.

“What are we drinking to?”

Crowley bared his teeth in a grin and raised his glass. “Let’s drink to me being the happiest man in the world.”

That got him a snort. “How selfless of you.”

“I never said I didn’t buy this wine in my celebration.”

“Why? What celebration?”

Crowley’s grin widened with open and unguarded satisfaction. He opened his mouth, ready to announce the greatest news ever shared, when he heard a noise coming from his pocket. He pulled out his phone to immediately notice a message on the screen. It was from a contact, oh-so-subtly named Angel<3.

I’m near your place.

Will be there in one.

Crowley stared at the phone with his eyes wide. “What?”

Anathema leaned in his direction, her gaze wandering towards the source of his surprise. “What ‘what’?”

“It’s Aziraphale. I think he’s implying he’ll be here in a minute.”

She shrugged. “Guess he wanted to come over.”

A theory began forming in Crowley’s brain, and along with it his smile began to widen. “Guess he did.”

Like a response to Crowley’s bemusement, a knock on the door was what interrupted their conversation. Anathema rolled her eyes and remined exactly where she was, apparently assuming that the unexpected visit was more aimed at Crowley than at her. He, in turn, sprinted to the door, his heart racing already. He was about to see his beautiful angel again. Didn’t matter that he had seen him just this morning.

Aziraphale was, indeed, there, his eyes shining. “Hello, darling,” he murmured. He seemed to take an awful amount of pleasure in calling Crowley that, because the last word was strongly emphasized. “You forgot you’re jacket at my place.”

“Oh.” Crowley stared at the garment that was presented to him. “And you came here to… to give it back to me?”

As an answer to the question he got a delighted giggle from Aziraphale and then that bastard dared to give Crowley a quick and a very unexpected kiss, which even if small was enough to sweep him off his feet. “I must admit that was the least important of my reasons.”

A little dazzled Crowley grinned lazily. “That’s good. ‘Cos for a second there, I though…” As a revenge he pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s lips, which got him an adorable happy sound. “For a second there, I thought that was your only reason.”

Aziraphale shook his head happily and gifted Crowley another kiss, which this time turned to a longer one that was much harder to break. Crowley’s arms slowly sauntered to encircle Aziraphale’s waist, bringing him closer. Aziraphale’s hands, in turn, were in an instant cupping Crowley’s face. It was sweet and intoxicating, when Aziraphale’s lips were so gently moving against Crowley’s. It was truly a shame that one would have to come to an end as well.

When Aziraphale broke the kiss though, Crowley was not as disappointed as he thought he would be, because he was quick to relearn how damn pretty his angel was, and how nice was to look at him when he was all smiles.

“My sweetheart, I do love you so,” he murmured, almost against Crowley’s lips.

“Love you too, angel,” Crowley replied, trying to sneak as much adoration is his tone of voice as he could.

What ruined their perfect lovey-dovey atmosphere was Anathema’s voice coming from the kitchen. “You do realise that I can hear you from here, you pair of ridiculous love birds?”

Aziraphale freezzed. “Oh, dear, I didn’t know Anathema was home,” he let out. “I didn’t know you were home,” he repeated sheepishly towards the source of the voice.

“Hmm.”

“I just came to return Crowley his jacket,” he explained.

Anathema’s voice was filled with mirth when she replied, “So I’ve heard.”

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale murmured, turning his eyes to Crowley. “Darling, you should’ve told me Anathema’s here. This is truly embarrassing.”

Crowley sent him a playful smile. “Aw, come on, we weren’t bothering her or anything.”

“Crowley’s right. I’m not bothered,” Anathema’s voice announced.

Aziraphale shook his head, nonetheless. “That’s good at least, but if I knew, I’d be a little less, how to put it, affectionate.”

Anathema’s voice now sounded a bit sheepish too. “Hey, seriously don’t worry.”

“Well, I’ll disappearing in a second, anyway,” Aziraphale said. “I simply came to disturb Crowley a bit, but I wasn’t aware I will be disturbing you in the process.”

An amused huff came from the kitchen. “You can disturb Crowley all you want. He has his private bedroom here, you know?”

Aziraphale flushed deep red, which, Crowley had always thought, suited him very nicely. He was so flustered it was cute. “No, no, I’ll be gone in a second,” he assured, turning to the exit.

“You’re leaving me, angel?” Crowley asked with a pout, clutching Aziraphale’s hand in his. “I’m gonna be so lonely without you,” he let out dramatically.

“Sweetheart, we’ll see each other on Friday.” Aziraphale gave him a sweet smile. “You know, our first date.”

Those words made Crowley’s heart skip a beat. Their first date. They were about to have a date! The fact that it was actually happening was insane. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“So let me go, darling.”

Crowley let go of Aziraphale’s hand, but remined close to him. “Last kiss before you go?” he asked. Aziraphale’s beam was the answer he was looking for.

Now, he got much closer to Crowley, their lips inches away from each other. “Well, what do you think? Should I?”

“Don’t tease me, angel.”

“Do you really think I can? Your lips are too tempting for that, sweetheart,” Aziraphale said, playfulness sparkling in his eyes, and without another warning pressed his lips to Crowley’s. It was a quick one though, so abruptly after it came Aziraphale’s sweet ‘goodbyes’ and ‘see-you-laters’ and then he was gone.

When Crowley returned to the kitchen, feeling rather lovesick and awfully smitten, Anathema was already waiting from him with both of her eyebrows raised. “So, it finally happened,” she said, smugness dripping from her tone of voice.

“Yeah,” answered Crowley and couldn’t help letting out a stupid happy sound. He grabbed the wine bottle once again, noticing Anathema’s empty glass. “Uhm… champagne?”

“So that’s what the celebration is about,” she noted with a smirk, bringing her glass before him.

Crowley didn’t answer, just poured her the wine, but he was sure his huge, stupid grin was enough of a giveaway for her.

“Who confessed first?”

Crowley smirked. “I did.”

“Really?” she asked, full of disbelief.

“I mean, it was Aziraphale who forced me to do so by asking very inconvenient questions, such as ‘do you have feelings for me?’” he mumbled.

Anathema grinned smugly. “Of course he was the one to speak up first, that’s what I’ve expected.”

“Oi!”

“Also, you having feelings for him must’ve been impossible to miss.”

“Yeah, I guess he kind of figured that out,” Crowley muttered and shrugged. “But maybe he’s just very clever.”

She let out an amused snort. “No doubts about that.”

“Now, how about we finally drink that champagne?” he asked impatiently.

She rolled her eyes, as she so often did at his antics. “You know what I’ll drink to? I’ll drink to you finally getting over yourself and the fact that I no longer will have to deal with your whining over Aziraphale.”

“Oh, come on! Can’t you just be nice to me for once?” he exclaimed dramatically with a pout.

At first Crowley was sure Anathema would just make another one of her faces at him or something of that kind, but instead her expression mildened to a gentle one. “I’m glad you’re happy,” she admitted.

“Aww, are you now?”

“Yes,” she replied stubbornly.

“So, what? Are we going to drink to me being the happiest man in the world?”

Anathema sighed and shook her head. “Let’s just drink to love.”

Crowley smiled thoughtfully. “Yeah, love, what a great thing, in all of its forms.”

“So… to love?”

“To love.”

Their glasses clinked.