Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The supreme archangel sat on his own in the restaurant and had been for the past half hour.

The restaurant was not quite what Aziraphale expected. It was small and intimate and the lighting was perfect. Except this was not a perfect evening, far from it, and he feared he'd gone overboard on romance to try and effect an 'I miss you' without suggesting an apology.

The waiter wasn't ready to bring the nervous but clearly well off client a second bottle, but he kept a close eye and when Aziraphale drank the last of the glass, he returned and queried whether the second place should be cleared away.

"I'm sure he'll be here," said Aziraphale with a certainty his waiter didn't share and didn't show on his face. "He likes to be fashionably late."

It seemed that fashionable meant over forty minutes, but Aziraphale kept a watch on the door and when the demon entered, the angel smiled and sat up straighter. He beckoned for the waiter and the inevitable second bottle and as Crowley walked over to the booth, the glass was full and waiting for him.

It didn't seem to matter how long it had been since they'd seen one another, Crowley stepping through the door always made Aziraphale's heart soar. There had been long periods apart before, but never quite like this and though it had been months and not years, the gap had never seemed wider. They had fallen into familiar patterns over the centuries and Aziraphale enjoyed the bickering almost as much as those quieter, beautiful moments when they said something honest and buried it amongst the mundane so it wouldn't be seen.

He would welcome Crowley saying something snarky if he could bitch right back, but Crowley wasn't making an elaborate entrance. He didn't sway or swagger, simply made his way over to the booth as though attending an appointment and not one he was keen to be at. It didn't stop Aziraphale from wanting to break the silence and offer up something close to a truce so that he could get a glimpse at what felt lost.

"I believe this wine is one of your favourites," said Aziraphale and gestured to the seat opposite. "Would you care to join me?"

Crowley slid into the booth and downed the glass before he reached for the bottle and refilled it. He swirled the wine in the glass and only then looked across at his dining companion. "You sent for me."

"Asked," said Aziraphale. "I offered an invitation."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"I don't think so," said Aziraphale. "You're a demon. I don't think you can be summoned."

"Demons get summoned all the time," said Crowley and drank. "It's in the contract. Sometimes literally in a contract. And this was a summons."

"I asked," said Aziraphale. "You could have said no."

Crowley tipped the bottle into his glass. He leaned back in the booth and settled one arm along the back. "Call me curious," he said. "What does the supreme archangel want with me?"

Aziraphale winced. "I really do wish you wouldn't call me that."

"Not reverent enough for you?"

"I'd just prefer you didn't," said the angel. "I'm not an idiot. I know when you're mocking me."

"You never noticed before."

"You were never mean before," said Aziraphale and Crowley shrugged.

"Yeah, well, times have changed," said the demon. "And I don't have all night. So what's this about?"

Aziraphale cleared his throat. "Can we at least order dinner first?"

"If you like," said Crowley. "I imagine a supreme archangel can do anything he wants to."

"You'd be surprised," said Aziraphale, but he beckoned the waiter over again and ordered enough food to feed most of the restaurant. Crowley ordered another bottle of red and sat back with a full glass as he watched the angel. Aziraphale had rarely been conscious of it before, because it was part of them, a way of interacting that meant everything and said nothing at all. But now he was being watched and far from feeling comfort, Aziraphale felt a profound loss for something he hadn't known he had for certain until he had to give it up.

He waited until the waiter had left the table again before he risked looking back at Crowley again. The demon looked as he always had, lean, well coiffed, fashionable almost to the point of being ridiculous. He was elegant and beautiful and he was no longer an option, even in the quieter moments Aziraphale had to himself.

There had been many of them over the past months. Aziraphale had risen, determined to make things better and have an impact. Determined to prove himself, to prove that Heaven could be better, could be corrected and it just needed the right touch. He'd effected small changes at first, had ensured that there were some differences even if he and no-one else would notice. He wasn't prone to shouting so he had made it very clear that no-one else should do so and should explain themselves in a clear and calm manner. They had tried, he was certain about that, but old habits died hard and it didn't take long for the berating to start again.

But Aziraphale was persistent. You didn't ascend without backbone and he had plenty. He was a capable individual and he had spent a long time with humans without ever truly wanting to be one of them. He had learned how to get along in challenging circumstances. He was, he admitted, a slow learner, but he was relentless and Aziraphale had ironically accepted that he couldn't expect instant miracles. So he was kind and he was dedicated and he was doing better than he'd expected until the Metatron had visited and said it was time.

Aziraphale had long suspected that despite his position being written with the end in mind, he wasn't ready for was the ending of the world with himself at the helm. So he had done what he always wanted to do when there was a problem - he had called Crowley and asked to meet up. And to his great relief, despite the attitude on display, Crowley had agreed to join him.

"What were you doing this evening?" asked Aziraphale.

"Why?"

"I'm curious," said Aziraphale. "You said you didn't have all night."

"Anything I like," said Crowley. "Freed up a lot of options when you left."

"Like what?"

"Like anything," said Crowley. He drank and set the glass back on the table and when Aziraphale looked at him, he realised he couldn't see through the demon's glasses. It might just have been the dimmed lighting, or the demon might have chosen smokier lenses, but Aziraphale couldn't see his eyes and he missed the yellow irises and the intimate gaze he had grown very used to.

"Something good on the telly?"

"Might be," said Crowley. "Whatever, I'm not staying all night. So get on with it."

Aziraphale winced, but before he could say anything, the waiter returned with soup and surprisingly, Crowley reached for a spoon and started to eat. They'd shared several meals before, but recently Crowley had skipped the food in favour of more booze. He revelled in getting drunk and told Aziraphale that while they had all the advantages of drinking and could avoid the hangover, they had a duty to do it. A duty to whom, he had never explained, but Aziraphale had gone along with it often enough.

So he had completely expected Crowley to ignore all food and stick to the wine. He'd half hoped for it, that in seeing the tipsy demon he could find some of that closeness they'd shared before. But Crowley was eating and Aziraphale wished he'd picked something out that he actually thought the demon would enjoy.

"I would like your help," said Aziraphale and Crowley raised an eyebrow.

"No," he said and gestured with his spoon. "This is really good. I never liked leek but this is something else. You should try it."

"No?" Aziraphale blinked, but he did fuss with his napkin and tasted the soup. "You're right. It is very good. And why won't you help me?"

"I'm not helping you do anything," said Crowley. "Purely social. Like you said."

"I never said that this time," said Aziraphale. "I thought when you said you'd come, you understood-"

"What?" Crowley looked back at Aziraphale over the bowl. "You asked me to meet you for dinner. I've done that and when I've finished this genuinely delicious meal, I'm going to go home and sleep."

"That's what you had planned?"

"I like sleeping," said Crowley. "I've done whole centuries before. Sleeping through the end of the world sounds just about right."

"You can't do that," said Aziraphale.

"I can,' said Crowley. "I've got new sheets for the bed. Silk. Best night's sleep I've ever had."

"But you can't," said Aziraphale. "If the world ends then you won't be able to. You'll be summoned back to Hell and you'll have to fight."

"I thought you said I couldn't be summoned."

"To dinner, not to Armageddon," said Aziraphale. "I'm serious, Crowley. You can't behave as though these things aren't happening."

"Actually," said Crowley. "I don't know what's happening. Hell don't talk to me anymore. But I've got my flat back, my bills paid. Everything's back to normal."

It hurt, and for a moment Aziraphale wasn't sure whether or not Crowley meant it to. The demon could be very cruel, though rarely to Aziraphale. Rarely didn't mean never and he had been on the wrong side of that acerbic wit and hadn't enjoyed it at all. What he wanted was for Crowley to offer a flippant apology and for Aziraphale to accept it and then enjoy a pleasant evening.

He didn't think the apology was coming.

And Aziraphale didn't want to offer an apology himself. He had left and he had done so for all the right reasons, he was certain of it. He wanted to set things right and had hoped to have had Crowley at his side, but the demon wouldn't come. Crowley had been more than just dismissive, he'd made it clear that he thought Aziraphale's plan was stupid and that was so ridiculously rare that the angel didn't know what to do about that at all. So he had left and it had been painful and Aziraphale had ploughed through because the job needed doing. They had separated before and he had coped and he was coping now, to a degree.

But he wasn't happy. He was in a place where they all spoke about love as though it were simple and easy and just something angels did. Sometimes they genuinely did do it in a very perfunctory way, but they didn't know what love was. They didn't know it was difficult and irritating and tragic and could tear your insides out. They didn't know what it felt like to think of the other person and feel the world shift beneath your feet.

They didn't know what it was like to finally, desperately share a kiss and have to walk away immediately afterward. And no matter what, Aziraphale couldn't undo that moment any more than Crowley could. What Aziraphale didn't know is whether Crowley wanted to and he was uncomfortably aware that he was afraid to know the answer.

"I came down here," said Aziraphale carefully, "to ask for your help in preventing another Armageddon."

"Why would you do that?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, it's not like we've ever been in any way effective," said Crowley. He took another drink. "Look at us last time. Eleven years with the wrong boy."

"But we succeeded in preventing the end of the world."

"The kid succeeded," said Crowley. "You and me had absolutely nothing to do with it. Not even at the end, not really."

"We did do something," said Aziraphale. "We spoke to the boy."

"Yeah and that was because he'd already made up his mind to stop it. We just tagged on an ending. That's all."

Aziraphale picked up his glass and sipped. "It was quite a good ending," he said.

"You went to Hell," said Crowley. "You went to actual Hell because they were going to destroy you."

"They were going to destroy you," said Aziraphale. "And we played a trick. An excellent one because it worked."

Crowley leaned back in the booth and drained the glass. "What did that give us? Another few years of wondering when it was going to hit the fan?"

"We had some rather lovely times," said Aziraphale. "You have to admit that."

Crowley didn't smile. He set the glass back on the table and for a moment Aziraphale was convinced that the demon would just leave. He didn't expect Crowley to remove his glasses, or for the tired expression revealed beneath. Very tired for a demon who claimed to have spent months sleeping and the urge to lean forward and touch was a little too much.

Aziraphale set his hand over Crowley's where it rested on the table and felt the soft hairs on the back of his wrist, the stretch of tendons and for one delicious moment he thought the demon was going to turn his hand over. It didn't happen, but the thought, the hope that it might was the best Aziraphale had felt in a long while.

Crowley drew his fingers back slowly and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "We did," he said. "And then you left."

"I didn't just leave," said Aziraphale.

"Looked like leaving to me."

"I mean before I left," said Aziraphale. "We talked. You knew my decision. And I did offer you the option to come with me."

"To Heaven?" Crowley shook his head. "To be an angel? Never going to happen."

Aziraphale folded his hands in front of him. "You could have done."

"I didn't want to," said Crowley. "I'm done with that. Was done with that so long ago that I don't remember what it was like."

"You don't?"

Crowley shrugged. "Better things to think about."

"Like what?"

For a moment the demon hesitated and then offered a brief smile. "Like good wine and good company."

Aziraphale wanted to ask whether he was included in that. If it had been before, he would never have done so, because it was safer to assume and hope. He had spent his existence hoping for good things and in his own way effecting a reality in which they could happen. He had hoped for good things when Crowley was involved, despite paying clear lip service to the distinction between the roles they played. And their relationship had become something rather lovely, something not quite human and far from Heaven until it had been broken. Until they had broken it.

"Did you miss me?"

Crowley stared. "What kind of question is that?"

"A perfectly reasonable one, I should have thought," said Aziraphale. "It's completely normal."

"Nothing we do is completely normal. It's in the job description."

"We don't have jobs," said Aziraphale. "We just are."

"Even you don't believe that," said Crowley.

"I always have," said Aziraphale. "I am an angel. You are a demon. That's who we are."

"It's what we do," said Crowley and shook his head. He leaned back in the seat. "It's a job. It's always been a job and you still don't get it."

There were some days, indeed some decades when Aziraphale felt that he was doing nothing but performing. He had lied and had done so because he felt it was the right thing to do and he could comfortably say that he never did so when it was for his own benefit, only when it helped others. He felt some humans needed all the help they could get, and there had been time when he had lied to protect Crowley. Aziraphale felt more comfortable with that, more reassured when he was able to stand in front of the demon and had wondered whether Crowley understood the lengths to which he would go to protect him.

For Aziraphale, understanding that protecting humans was the performance and protecting Crowley was who he was gave all the distinction he required. One he would do because it was good and it was right and the other he would do whether they called him angel or not. They had been taught from the start that demons were the enemy and that they lived a pitiful existence.

Aside from the trips Crowley made to Hell, Aziraphale believed that Crowley lived very comfortably and engaged with all the wickedness and wonder of the world. When he was feeling indulgent, Crowley shared it with Aziraphale and the angel truly believed they were his favourite times. But Crowley was still a demon and there were still things that he had to do because even in the difficult estrangement from their head offices, Crowley had intimated that it was only a matter of time until something terrible happened.

"I understand that you don't like it."

"Don't like what?"

"Being a demon," said Aziraphale. "That's why I thought perhaps you would relish the opportunity to be something else."

Crowley didn't laugh, but it was clearly a close thing. "An angel isn't the other option," he said. "And I don't care about being a demon."

"You don't like doing demonic things."

"Sometimes I do," said Crowley. "Depends on the thing. Anyway, the point is that I don't want to be anything else."

"You can't like being a demon," said Aziraphale. "It must be dreadful."

"It's not so bad," said Crowley. "What about you? How are you enjoying being his supreme highness?"

"There are some definite administrative advantages," said Aziraphale. "And a lot of not listening."

"By you?"

"By others," said Aziraphale. "They're not particularly good at following orders."

"I don't think anyone is," said Crowley. "Not your side and not mine. They do things when they're scared."

"Angels aren't scared."

"Who are you kidding?" Crowley said. "I've seen you scared."

"Not about being an angel," said Aziraphale. "Because some of the things I had to do-"

"Some of the things you had to do weren't what you wanted," said Crowley. "And you did do them and you were afraid. I know. I saw you do it."

"I want to be good," said Aziraphale. "I've always wanted to be good. I'm just sure that some of the things I was supposed to do weren't as good as they should have been."

Crowley nodded and lifted Aziraphale's hand and held it between his own. "Because Heaven doesn't know what it's doing anymore than Hell does."

Aziraphale blinked rapidly. The thought had occurred to him more frequently and it worried him every time it passed through his mind in case it settled and took hold. The idea that Heaven didn't know what it was doing was terrifying. And now he was Heaven and Aziraphale had ideas, but he knew that he was winging much of it. It fit rather too neatly into Crowley's definition and he shook off as much as he could.

"Why did you kiss me?"

Crowley raised an eyebrow. He took hold of the angel's hand and stroked his thumb over Aziraphale's palm. It was slow and precious and Aziraphale had been touched so rarely and never recently. Humans tended to be the ones who initiated touch, but he'd done so himself and always with Crowley. He had told himself firmly that it was because Crowley was so frequently there, but knew both in the quiet of the night that the demon was more than that. To fall in love with one's enemy was a tragic cliche. To acknowledge that love was an act of will and Aziraphale worried he fell short.

"I suppose because I wanted to is not going to cut it," said Crowley.

"Did you want to?"

"Yes," said Crowley. "Sort of."

"Sort of?" Aziraphale frowned. "I don't think I understand. Did you want to do it or didn't you?"

"If you think that was the first time I'd considered kissing you then you're an idiot," said Crowley. "I'll admit my timing could have been better."

"You thought about kissing me before," said Aziraphale. "But why?"

Crowley stared. "Have you ever thought about kissing me?"

"What? No. I would never…" Aziraphale stopped abruptly and looked back at the demon. He stretched his fingers and linked them with Crowley's own. "I had thought of holding your hand."

"Why?"

"Because it's romantic," said Aziraphale. "And I read too many books."

"You don't believe that," said Crowley. "Try again."

"You think I have," said Aziraphale. "You said so."

"Yeah, but that was teasing," said Crowley. "Not real."

"Was the kiss real?"

Crowley's tongue flickered briefly against his bottom lip. Aziraphale stared and what he remembered of the kiss had been the closeness. At first he had refused to acknowledge more than the physical sensation and that he hadn't wanted to be kissed at that time. There was anger there that he could deal with. He had maintained the anger until he only understood that he missed Crowley and missed what might have been. That kiss came back to him then, how it felt to be gripped tight and feel Crowley's lips against his own. How it felt to have the demon's body so close, so purposeful and how, just for a moment, Aziraphale had held him back.

While he had definitely thought about holding Crowley's hand, Aziraphale had thought about what it would be like to be kissed. In all the novels he had ever read, Aziraphale had decided that the perfect kiss was longed for and delivered unexpectedly. But the reality was that it had been so very painful to know in those final moments that they could have had so much more. It had crushed Aziraphale's heart and the look on Crowley's face before he walked out of the bookshop had haunted him whenever the angel closed his eyes.

And still the thought remained, that Aziraphale wanted to be kissed again, to have something less chaste. To have something where forgiveness was never a requirement. He wanted to taste the demon, to feel his tongue against his skin. He wanted to be held and to know that there would be an after and that if he was very good indeed it could happen again. He wanted it to happen again.

"Yes."

Aziraphale glanced briefly at where Crowley's glasses were still on the table. He needed to give himself time, because if he looked into those yellow eyes Aziraphale was certain he would babble and that wasn't befitting a supreme archangel even if he had just discovered that his lovely demon hadn't been teasing.

But he held Crowley's hand anyway and took a slow breath. "It felt real."

"One last desperate embrace before you buggered off to Heaven." Crowley shook his head. "I'm not putting it down as a win."

"Oh? You're not," said Aziraphale. "Was it not good?"

"You went away," said Crowley. "I think when it's good, people don't leave you."

"I didn't have a choice."

"You definitely had a choice," said Crowley. "And you chose this. Just like I'm choosing not to help you."

"Hmm?"

"About whatever flavour of Armageddon Heaven has in mind," said Crowley. "Like I said. Not helping."

The demon drew his hand back slowly and reached for his glasses. Aziraphale watched as the demon set them back on again, hid his eyes and looked untouchable once more. "What would it take to change your mind?"

"Not sure anything can," said Crowley. "It was good to see you again," he said. "Maybe if I'd been a better kisser you would have stayed."

"What?"

"I'm just saying, bit more tongue, bit less white knuckle collar gripping and we could be in an entirely different place."

Aziraphale stared. "You think you're a bad kisser?"

"No," said Crowley. "I think that was a bad kiss."

"I thought it was wonderful," murmured Aziraphale. "Where do you think we'd be?"

"Doing very carnal things in my newly refurbished apartment," said Crowley. He got to his feet as Aziraphale contemplated that and looked a little stunned. "Thanks for dinner. It really was good to see you. Good luck with the end of the world and all that."

"Wait," said Aziraphale and got out of the booth. He placed cash down on the table and gestured to the demon. "I'll walk with you back to the car."

"I manage it unsupervised."

"I know, but indulge me," said Aziraphale. "I don't come down here very often and I should like to escort you back to your vehicle."

Crowley shrugged but he walked out with the angel at his side. They'd walked together so many times before and Aziraphale found it comforting despite the worry that this might be the last time they spent together. It was always at the back of his mind when they were together. It was always a possibility for there to be an end to the two of them, it was practically built into their relationship from the start.

And yet they had lasted, had been able to find ways and means of staying together despite their circumstances. Not together in a way mortals would deem acceptable, but the alternatives were worse. And though the end of the night would have Aziraphale leaving for Heaven, he couldn't shake the hope that Crowley might find a way to help him. Might find a way for them to be together again. He was certainly going to look up what kinds of carnal things might have been at hand the way Crowley had described.

The Bentley rolled forward slightly when they approached it and Aziraphale smiled at seeing someone else familiar. "You're really going back to sleep?" he asked Crowley as the demon unlocked the door and leaned against the car.

"Seems like a good plan."

"It seems like a terrible plan," said Aziraphale. "You can't do anything then."

"Nothing to do anything about," said Crowley. "And you'll be busy."

"It isn't as busy as I thought it would be," said Aziraphale. "A lot of time to fill between meetings."

"You're resourceful. I'm sure you'll think of something."

"I do," said Aziraphale. "But it does tend to always be you."

Crowley arched an eyebrow. "Should I be flattered?"

"I think so, yes," said Aziraphale. "You see, the thing is, I'm not quite sure I'm finished with this conversation."

"Why's that?"

"Because I'm done with whatever this is," said Aziraphale. "I mean. One kiss that you don't seem to think your best work in and now I run and you sleep through Armageddon. I'm not sure that's how it ends."

Crowley nodded and licked over his bottom lip. "Still not helping," he said.

"I understand that," said Aziraphale. "Could we meet again?"

"Are you inviting me for dinner?" said Crowley. "Something else?"

"I should like to meet you at the duck pond," said Aziraphale. "Tomorrow."

"Might be busy."

"You said you were sleeping."

"Sleeping's busy," said Crowley. "All right. Late morning. Bring frozen peas."

Aziraphale nodded and watched when the demon climbed into the car and got behind the wheel. He wanted to get into the passenger seat. He wanted Crowley to drive and to terrify him and then cajole him when he panicked. He wanted to know what a good kiss was like. But he stayed on the pavement and lifted his hand to wave when the Bentley pulled away and then he was alone again. But for the first time since he had stepped back into the lift, Aziraphale didn't feel lonely.

And wondered where to get the best frozen peas he could get his hands on.

Chapter Text

In any way he wanted to assess it, Aziraphale had brought far too many frozen peas.

He understood entirely that he and Crowley had agreed to meet following a first, precarious engagement following his departure for Heaven. Aziraphale had selected a very low key activity that still held some sentimental value to them both and had decided to show that he listened by bringing food of choice for the ducks. And as usual he had gone a little overboard and visited a shop to prepare and had been entirely unable to resist picking up every little bag they had. And now he was at the park and had also purchased a tartan trolley on wheels to transport them.

There seemed to be entirely too few ducks for the contents and he sorted some into a paper bag so he could toss them into the water and not feel so entirely ridiculous. But ridiculous was the theme today and Aziraphale watched as the ducks pecked lightly at the food and then scrambled greedily for more. He felt both gratified and then overwhelmed as they gathered in front of him and quacked happily.

"I shan't give you anymore," said Aziraphale to one greedy duck that swam close. "You've had more than enough. Learn to be satisfied."

"They'd ducks, angel," said Crowley as he stepped close. "They don't know where their next meal is coming from."

"That doesn't excuse them from manners," said Aziraphale and tossed more peas into the water. "There's plenty to share."

Crowley leaned back and spotted the trolley. "Please don't tell me that's full."

"All right," said Aziraphale. "I shan't."

"What did you do? Raid the local Tesco?"

"I haven't been shopping in a while," said Aziraphale. "I'd forgotten how nice it is to be able to select things and purchase them."

"People do that with expensive jewellery," said Crowley. "Not frozen vegetables."

Aziraphale ignored him and continued to feed the ducks. "This was your idea," he said. "Did you bring something?"

"I think we can safely say you've got food covered," said Crowley. He stood at Aziraphale's shoulder, facing the pond as the wildfowl gathered. "How long have you been here?"

"Are you asking how long I would wait for you?"

"I'm asking how fat the ducks are going to get," said Crowley. "Tell me, angel. When you leave, what are you going to do with all that food?"

"I thought I'd give it to you," said Aziraphale.

Crowley shook his head. "I am not filling my freezer with frozen peas. It would be peculiar."

"It was your suggestion. I was trying to show willing."

"I meant bring a bag," said Crowley. He set a hand on Aziraphale's shoulder and squeezed briefly. "But I appreciate the gesture."

Aziraphale smiled as he tossed food into the water. He hadn't gone back to sleep in the bed he'd had installed upstairs. He never slept in it, but he did like to spend time sitting on the comfortable mattress and reading whatever he could bring to hand. They might not keep material objects upstairs as a matter of course, but Aziraphale needed some home comforts and his position offered him that at the very least.

Last night he'd returned and the relief washed over him that while Crowley had refused to help, he had met him and had agreed to do so again. He had worried that Crowley would not show, or that he would and that he would say terrible things. And indeed the demon had been snarky, but only a little beyond what they had shared previously. What he had been was painfully honest and Aziraphale wasn't used to that. Before they had parted in the bookshop, Aziraphale had grown comfortable with their masked conversations, with the codes and patterns they'd affected until it had become all their dialogue.

They had not been a couple proper in Aziraphale's opinion, despite everything that Crowley had said, because they never acknowledged it. Others did, others had, humans and angels and demons had all made comments about the two of them. Some of them had not just rung true, but had become phrases that Aziraphale kept close to his heart. His boyfriend in the dark glasses had been one of those little things that the angel replayed even though the circumstances were far from ideal.

Theirs was a relationship that was bound by wrong times, wrong places and yet Aziraphale still had hope that it could be turned round. And now, when the second coming was something he didn't just have to cope with but orchestrate, Aziraphale felt time was ridiculously short and that he needed to fix this even if he didn't know how to fix anything else.

He tossed the last of the bag's contents toward the ducks, made a little suggestion toward a lady in a business suit that she might like to use the trolley to feed ducks and looked back at the demon. "Thank you for coming."

"It's all right," said Crowley. "I did wonder whether I should."

"Oh?"

"You know how it is," said Crowley. "You meet up with someone you've fallen out with and afterward you don't know if it's a smart idea."

"I don't think we've ever done anything smart," said Aziraphale. "You pointed that out last time."

"That doesn't mean we didn't try to do clever things," said Crowley. "And we have done them, just not often together."

"So we're clearly quite stupid together?"

"Not sure," said Crowley and pushed his hands in his pockets. "I mean, things have tended to work out well. Maybe we're lucky."

"You believe you're lucky?" said Aziraphale. "You're a demon."

"Demons can be lucky," said Crowley. "Can get lucky, at any rate."

Aziraphale wrinkled his brow. "Do you mean that in the crude sense?"

Crowley grinned. "Might do."

Aziraphale felt the blush in his cheeks, but he didn't turn away. If he was going to be able to get anywhere with this, he couldn't rely on masking everything they spoke about in the way they had. And yet he wasn't quite capable of making those jumps on his own.

He met Crowley's grin with a smile of his own and realised that at least in this he didn't have to be alone. He never had to be alone until he chose it. It was strange how the absence had highlighted that for him so clearly. He had spent millennia in one place and sometimes he didn't see the other person for years, decades and on occasion centuries, but he knew Crowley was there. Aziraphale understood but didn't say that life was always more interesting, more involved when they were together. He had assumed that if they continued to keep the status quo they could have that forever.
And then suddenly Aziraphale himself wasn't there. He left, had walked away for what he truly believed were the right reasons. Aziraphale had taken himself out of the equation and on return, he had hoped they could slip into the way things had always been. He hoped they could fall into the same patterns and that despite everything, Crowley would find a way to help him. But on seeing the demon, on hearing him talk, Aziraphale didn't want things to be the way they had been. He would still have to deal with the Metatron's plan, but it had occurred to him that whatever else this was, it had changed. One unexpected but hungry kiss had physically changed all that.

He cleared his throat.

"You said you were a bad kisser."

"I did not," said Crowley. "I said it could have been better. I was unprepared."

"Unprepared to kiss me," said Aziraphale. "You planned your speech. Did it not end that way?"

"It didn't end with you walking away," said Crowley. "I mean I didn't think you'd leave the bookshop. Not really. But I thought it might give you something to think about."

"It definitely did," said Aziraphale.

"Not enough."

"It did," insisted Aziraphale. "I thought about what you said a lot. I thought about what it would mean to go off together. Not very highly regarded by Heaven, I might say."

"I know that," said Crowley. "Not exactly Hell's idea of a demon's worst behaviour either. I didn't ask you because I wanted approval."

"I understand that," said Aziraphale. "I just believe that now I am the establishment, it's something I need to consider."

Crowley arched an eyebrow. "And just how does the establishment feel about you coming down here and meeting me now."

"I believe it's considered irregular," said Aziraphale. "But then I was allowed to bring you with me."

"I wouldn't come."

"No," said Aziraphale. "Anyway, this isn't what I wanted to say."

"You said I was a bad kisser."

Aziraphale shook his head. "What would it have been like, if you'd had enough opportunity to prepare."

The grin was back on the demon's face. "Thinking about how to make plans yourself?"

"Indulge me."

Crowley huffed and stepped back from the path. He gestured with one elbow toward the path and Aziraphale walked companionably at his side. He wasn't at all sure where this path lead, because he tended to remember their arrival at places. Now the journey was the only thing he could think about and he kept pace as the demon strolled past the flower beds. He was a little surprised when they stopped under a small covering of trees that other people walked past without glancing in their direction.

"Where is this?"

"Somewhere a bit more private," said Crowley. "Off the beaten track. Thought you'd like it."

"It's quite crunchy underfoot," said Aziraphale. "I quite like Autumn."

"It's very brown," said Crowley.

"It is not," said Aziraphale. "It's full of glorious colours, reds and greens and yes, browns, but-"

He broke off when Crowley reached for him, hands cupping Aziraphale's face and his mouth soft as he kissed the angel. Aziraphale was caught unawares again, but he allowed himself a moment to appreciate that there were things he had remembered and misremembered about this before. He could smell the demon better this close, could feel the bristle against his cheek and chin and the warmth of Crowley's breath in his mouth. He could feel Crowley's body pressed up close against his own and was highly aware of each part almost in turn. He revelled in the press of arms and firm chest, his belly brushed with by the demon's belt and his trousers crushed where Crowley had stepped completely into his space.

He was also aware that while he had been startled into being kissed last time, he was not unaffected in ways beyond the emotional. His loins were heated and he could feel the soft rub of leather pants against his neat and tidy trousers. There was a delicious press of heat and interest against his thigh and Aziraphale was convinced that passion was an act of rebellion he could cling to when being kissed by this demon.

Crowley drew back slowly and licked over his bottom lip. Aziraphale gasped for breath, as he had before, but he felt no immediate urge to forgive. The demon's fingers still caressed his jaw and the soft curls at the nape of his neck. Aziraphale shivered before he found his voice.

"I think that was better," he said and licked his lip. "But I do have some suggestions, if you're interested."

"Suggestions?"

"To improve your technique," said Aziraphale. He reached for Crowley's glasses and delicately slid them off and into his pocket. "For example, these aren't necessary."

"I fail to see how not wearing my glasses is going to make you swoon."

"But I do appreciate," said Aziraphale. He stroked Crowley's temple and sighed as he looked at the demon's mouth. "You are quite lovely to kiss."

"But could do with improvement," snarked Crowley, but he kept his hands where they were, his thumbs rubbing against Aziraphale's skin. "Go on. What else?"

"Well a little warning would be nice."

"You mean, brace yourself. I'm coming in for a snog?"

"That might help," said Aziraphale. "And your tongue."

"What about my tongue?"

"You didn't use it," said Aziraphale. "I mean, with such a supple and capable muscle, I would have thought it could only enhance the experience."

Crowley appeared to consider. "So you want to see my eyes, want to be told to expect a kiss and you'd really like me to stick my tongue down your throat?"

"I think you actually could do that, and I'm not sure it would be entirely pleasant," said Aziraphale. "A little tongue would be rather nice."

"This might be the strangest conversation we've ever had," said Crowley. "But okay. Anything else?"

"I very much like the way you stand so close to me," said Aziraphale. "Is there anything else you would like from me?"

"Uh?"

"To improve the experience," said Aziraphale. "Fair is fair."

"Oh," said Crowley. "Well in that case, could you hold me back? Bit weird kissing someone who doesn't know what to do with their hands."

"I assure you I do," said Aziraphale. "I'm not sure I should do those things in the park."

"No-one can see us."

"You never know when someone might happen upon this place," said Aziraphale. "It's hardly secret."

"True," said Crowley. "I'll save the take your knickers off request for next time."

"I don't wear-"

"Brace yourself, angel. I'm going to kiss you."

It was, in Aziraphale's opinion, a vast improvement. This time he could see those yellow irises before he closed his eyes and indulged in the embrace. He could feel the slip of tongue as it stroked against his own and best of all he could reach back for the demon and hold him close. There were some serious advantages to holding Crowley and Aziraphale was thrilled that he could in fact wrap his arms completely round the demon. He could hold him while he kissed him and Aziraphale wanted nothing less than to kiss again and again until the world ended. And possibly still do it after that.

That having started to kiss meant that their time was divided into the period before they kissed and everything from then on suggested to Aziraphale that there was a clear route where it could keep happening. Aziraphale wanted it to keep happening. He wanted to see Crowley and to take a kiss just because the demon was close. He wanted to become familiar with sorts of kisses he'd seen over the years. A welcome home kiss. A don't be away too long kiss. An I want all sorts of things I don't have the words for kiss. He wanted all of that, but he also wanted the hidden kisses that went beyond fit for public embraces and it had become imperative that he discover what those were like too.

Aziraphale felt Crowley's hands slide from his jaw and stroke over his shoulders. Having been starved of physical affection, Aziraphale added it to what he understood about kissing. This was how it felt to kiss Crowley when they were both on board and he liked it very much. He liked it when he felt the demon's hands slide over his sides and when they reached for his bottom and tugged him closer, Aziraphale came up for air with a very breathy 'oh my'.

"S'matter?" murmured Crowley as he nudged Aziraphale's nose with his own and took a quick kiss. "Problem?"

"Not a problem," said Aziraphale. "Your hands are on my…person."

Crowley chuckled but didn't move anywhere at all. He did squeeze again. "We are kissing," he pointed out. "Where would you like me to put them?"

Aziraphale considered carefully. "I think where you have them right now is quite nice, actually. I'm just not used to it."

"I can take them off?"

"No, please don't do that," said Aziraphale. The demon nodded and leaned back in to kiss the angel. Aziraphale kissed him back, his tongue touched to Crowley's when it was on offer and his mind working over the distinctly different and pleasant sensations he was indulging in, each one delicious in its own right and filed carefully under 'kissing Crowley'. Crowley's fingers spread wide and he tugged harder, brought the angel closer and Aziraphale gasped. Crowley paused and leaned back.

"Something else you're not used to," said Crowley. "Like or don't like."

"I do like it," said Aziraphale. "But when you do it, I can feel more of you than I'm used to."

Crowley tilted his head. "Are you being crude?"

"Certainly not," said Aziraphale. "I am never crude."

"Well, you seem to be distracted by my erection, so I'd say you have to adjust that slightly to being a little crude."

Aziraphale did his best to stifle the nervous laugh that wanted to follow Crowley's comment. The demon liked to say things that shocked him, although they were often things that Aziraphale had himself been thinking. Crowley did have filters but used them sparingly. He hadn't referred directly to himself in a distinctly sexual way in front of the angel before and Aziraphale considered it carefully. It didn't take him long to decide that it made him hungry. Practically ravenous.

He moved his body against the demon so he could feel the stiff length rub against him. Trapped beneath tight leather pants, it seemed to throb when Aziraphale deliberately pressed himself close. This, he decided, would fit neatly under sensations he liked when kissing Crowley and Aziraphale leaned in and sucked the demon's bottom lip, eliciting a groan that made that stiffness pulse.

"Perhaps a little crude," said Aziraphale. "I didn't know what you kept in your trousers before."

"Ever wondered?"

"Sometimes," admitted Aziraphale. "Some of the clothes you've worn have been a little revealing."

"Oh," said Crowley. "So you've looked."

"You like making an entrance," said Aziraphale. "Sometimes your eye is just drawn to different places. Ascetically, I mean."

"So this is purely curiosity," said Crowley. "Nothing heated about it?"

"I'm sure you're already quite aware that is not the case," said Aziraphale. "I'm just pointing out that feeling it is very new to me."

"We haven't snogged like this before," said Crowley. "It's all new."

"Yes, and you're clearly very aroused by it all."

"Would you prefer me not to be?"

"I definitely wouldn't say that," said Aziraphale. He leaned in and felt that push against his hip. It felt reassuring, heated and something the angel felt he didn't want to ignore. "Is it going to happen whenever we kiss?"

"So the kissing is more than a one time thing," said Crowley. "I don't know. I didn't know it was definitely going to happen this time."

"You can't control it?"

Crowley laughed loudly enough to make Aziraphale glance toward the path. It remained quiet and left them with the sort of privacy Crowley had suggested. He turned back to Crowley, eager to understand. "I'm glad I've amused you, but would you mind explaining why."

"Just thinking how many books and chat shows and Sunday supplements about a lack of control in male arousal seem to have passed you by," said Crowley. "Sorry, angel. I'm being unfair. No, I don't think I have any real control but I'm sure if I made some effort, I could."

"I don't think I want you to do that," said Aziraphale. "I suppose what I could assume is that if it happens, then it's a wonderful thing."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then I am quite open to kissing you until it does."

It seemed to be the right answer and Aziraphale was gratified when the demon kissed him again. He tested out a little more touching of his own and stroked down over the stiff fabric of Crowley's jacket and found his way to the demon's bottom. He squeezed there and it seemed to unbalance them enough that they staggered toward the nearest tree.

The bark was rough against the backs of Aziraphale's hands, but he didn't mind when he discovered that it offered purchase they hadn't achieved before. There was heat and hunger and when Aziraphale heard the demon groan he felt he was definitely doing some things right. He lifted his head when Crowley slid his fingers against the back of his waistband and met the demon's gaze.

"We appear to have tripped."

"You appear to have pushed me up against a tree," said Crowley. "I am not complaining."

"Oh good," said Aziraphale. "Things are getting rather heated."

"Still Autumn," said Crowley. "Bit nippy out."

"You're perfectly aware that is not what I meant."

"True," said Crowley. "Are we going to discuss the elephant in the room?"

Aziraphale glanced round and turned back toward Crowley. "Metaphor?"

"Idiom, I think," said Crowley. "But still worth discussing."

Aziraphale thought and then shook his head. "I think I'm lost. Are we talking about me coming here to ask for your help?"

"You did that yesterday and it's not on offer. Social time is."

"Ah," said Aziraphale. "In that case, I've no idea what sort of elephant we're talking about."

Crowley watched the angel and slid one hand round carefully and took a firm grip of the hard length that disturbed the creases of Aziraphale's neatly pressed trousers. The angel gasped, but he leaned into the caress and when he could breathe again he nodded at the demon.

"Not an elephant," said Aziraphale and Crowley squeezed gently. "I think that was you."

"Hmm?"

"Causing that," said Aziraphale. He caught his breath as the demon caressed him. "Yes, definitely you."

"I do hope so, because I'm the one you've been snogging for the last half an hour," said Crowley. He kissed the angel again and glanced round. "You know, this isn't the sort of thing you should do in public."

"Where should you be doing it?"

"My flat," said Crowley. "Could be doing all sorts of things there."

Aziraphale didn't feel the blood rush to his cheeks, but that was mainly because any spare was occupied elsewhere. He did feel that whatever things Crowley was referring to should be immediately explored and indeed discussed and judged for merit. He had been taking steps into temptation since the first time he met the angel and though he'd ascended rather than fallen, Aziraphale had started to believe that it was just a matter of luck.

Strange that it hadn't occurred to him before the Metatron turned up with his carefully worded little offer. Aziraphale had often reminded Crowley that he was a demon and therefore evil in spite of the kindness and general lack of evilness Crowley embodied. Sometimes he had said it because it felt better to be on the side of good and therefore inherently right. He liked being right and every time Crowley had suggested that perhaps Heaven and being right were not the same thing he had felt unsettled.

He had managed to deal with most of it by understanding that angels were not absolutely perfect, despite their beliefs because Aziraphale knew he was not perfect. And therefore because they were not perfect they might be misguided in interpreting God's will. But their intentions were good, he had been certain of it. Until he had finally accepted Metatron's offer and Crowley had refused to go with him and delivered a speech and a kiss that occupied any moment he wasn't working.

And for all the Metatron had flattered and told Aziraphale things he liked to believe he could be, Aziraphale had reflected and decided that they didn't fit him at all. They weren't true and if the Metatron could lie about that then they could lie about a lot of things. And they clearly didn't like Crowley, or any questions he posed. It had slowly occurred to Aziraphale that as a keen little angel who had bought the offer because it came with the option to bring Crowley with him, Metatron didn't think Aziraphale asked asked any questions at all.

But Aziraphale, though slower to work through and more cautious, did ask questions. He didn't always ask them aloud, but he did investigate things and eventually came up with his own conclusions. So far in Heaven he'd come to the conclusion that he was required to be the sort of supreme archangel who would go along with Metatron's plans for the second coming without question because he was aware of the immediate consequences and had something to lose.

The something to lose was currently pressed up against a tree with his hand wrapped Aziraphale.

Aziraphale licked his bottom lip. "I don't think I can come with you now."

The stroking didn't quite stop but it did slow. "Can't fraternise anymore today?"

"I'll be missed upstairs," he said. "I have a meeting."

"Ah," said Crowley. "So no-one knows you're here with me."

"It's a private assignation."

"I'm your dirty little secret."

"No," said Aziraphale. "I'm sure everyone is well aware that you and I have long had a partnership."

"Is that what we're calling it now?"

"I don't know," said Aziraphale a little desperately. "I hoped that you thought of this as lovers meeting."

Crowley seemed to consider and slowly drew his hand away from Aziraphale and instead caressed his cheek. "Still a romantic then, angel?"

"I like to think so," said Aziraphale. "I should like to see you again."

"Oh yes?"

"In your flat," said Aziraphale. "To do the things. All the things."

"Sexy," said Crowley and reached down for Aziraphale's hand. He turned it over and pressed his lips briefly against the angel's palm, his tongue flickering against the skin before he let go. "Tomorrow, then?"

"Yes," said Aziraphale. "Wait. Morning or evening?"

"I don't get out of bed before noon usually," said Crowley. "Make of that what you will,"

"Morning then," said Aziraphale and thrilled at the flicker of a smile on the demon's face. "I shall look forward to it."

Crowley nodded. "Me too," he said and lifted his hand to wave. "Have fun in Heaven then."

And he was gone, lost to Aziraphale for the time being, but thankfully not forever. Aziraphale set his face before he returned upstairs, determined that while the world was still set to end, he had questions that needed to be answered. And a lot of them would be resolved in the flat in Mayfair.

Chapter Text

Crowley, dressed for seduction, was a sight that demanded sufficient time to appreciate.

He greeted Aziraphale at the door wearing nothing but a black silk dressing gown. Crowley smelled delicious and had clearly both bathed and indulged in the sorts of bubbles and soaps that most appealed to Aziraphale. Not because the angel used them but, as Aziraphale realised, he may have previously mentioned that he liked it when Crowley wore them. The demon smelled like sandalwood, jasmine and rose and Aziraphale believed no other lover could come close to being as appealing.

Even his hair was rumpled in a way that the angel suspected would take hours to arrange if done manually. It seemed to lack the usual goop and gel that Crowley liked to use and the very softness would entice any company to run their fingers through it at any given moment. And any part of him that wasn't already interested would be utterly ruined when Crowley reached for him and delivered exactly the sort of kiss that rendered Aziraphale unable to speak until his brain rattled back into place again.

Crowley drew back, smiled and led Aziraphale by the hand into his flat. The walls, Aziraphale noted, were very plain where his own were covered in whatever decoration appealed, (though mostly novels) and the gigantic sofa in the middle of the living area seemed to dominate the room. There was a roaring fire that threw off heat and a fluffy rug in front of it at a very pleasing angle to the sofa.

It was in short a place that said come in, take your clothes off and do wonderful things with me.

Aziraphale wanted very much to smile in response to the demon and found he couldn't. He licked his bottom lip when Crowley ran his fingers over his collar and reached to unfasten his bowtie. Aziraphale lifted his hand and covered Crowley's, pausing activity long enough for the demon to raise an eyebrow, his fingers resting against the cotton.

"You've changed your mind?" said Crowley and Aziraphale shook his head.

"I've thought of little else," he said honestly. "I kept thinking about the sorts of things we would do. I had to take quite a long time to calm myself down again so that I could face other people. I thought they might see it on me."

"See what exactly?"

"How excited I was," said Aziraphale. "Am."

Crowley brushed Aziraphale's collar again. "You sure about that?"

"Am, definitely am," said Aziraphale. "It's just-"

"Yes?"

"You remember I had a meeting to attend?"

"Rings some sort of bell," said Crowley. "Had to do a reasonable amount of calming down myself."

Aziraphale wondered what that meant and did intend to find out at some point, but he was worrying, bordering on fretting. He wasn't good at waiting for things to get back under control and things were as unsettling as they could be. He held onto Crowley's hand and pushed forward. "Well that meeting sort of went on and then afterward I took a look at some paperwork and now I don't know quite what to do."

Crowley pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek briefly before he dropped his head back and seemed to find the strength to look back at Aziraphale. "We're not having sex right now, are we?"

"I definitely want to," said Aziraphale. "And I know you said you weren't going to help and I'm not asking you to do that, but I just need to tell somebody."

Crowley sighed and Aziraphale wondered whether he was about to be shown the door. The demon would certainly be entitled to do that and Aziraphale would be upset but would understand. He watched nervously when Crowley took a few steps away and couldn't quite restrain the relief he felt when the demon returned with a bottle of something red and sensuous and a couple of glasses in his fingers.

"I got this for after," said Crowley. "But I think it's needed now."

"Oh thank you," said Aziraphale and accepted the glass. He looked around to see where he should sit and suspected that the sofa would be difficult to get up from. Crowley lounged in the corner and Aziraphale glanced briefly at the stiff chair in the corner opposite before he made his choice. He sat a little primly between the demon's sprawled legs and, when encouraged, leaned back against Crowley's chest and allowed himself to take the comfort on offer.

Crowley settled an arm round Aziraphale and drank comfortably. "Out with it then," he said. "What's wrong upstairs?"

"I think everything might be," said Aziraphale. "It was a meeting about the second coming."

"Fancy."

"Indeed," said Aziraphale. "It's their latest way of setting things in motion and everyone else seemed to be very much on board. So when I asked Metatron why now, they looked quite cross. And they didn't seem very impressed with anything else I asked either."

"You asked the Metatron questions." Aziraphale closed his eyes briefly when Crowley kissed his neck. "I bet they didn't see that coming."

"Evidently not," said Aziraphale. "Because Michael said something like, 'here we go again, just like Gabriel', and Metatron hushed them, adjourned the meeting and said we'd get back to it tomorrow."

"Sounds intriguing," said Crowley. "I wonder if you're just not the ingenue they expected."

"They were clearly quite miffed about the whole thing. I was upset and I went away to have a think about it and started to wonder what Michael meant."

"You went investigating," said Crowley. "How did that go?"

"Oddly," said Aziraphale. He drank the wine and reached for the bottle again to top them both up. He wondered briefly whether the alcohol was helping to calm him down, but he was very much aware of the reassuring press of hand against his belly and the warmth where Crowley had kissed him. Aziraphale had been worryingly right - all he ever needed was to get together with Crowley and everything felt a lot more manageable and dangerous all at the same time.

He set his hand over Crowley's and stroked there, his thumb tracing the demon's knuckles. Aziraphale leaned back again and felt the softness of the silk against his hair and the welcome press of Crowley's jaw against his temple. "I found the file for Gabriel's trial."

"Oh yeah? Interesting viewing?"

"Quite disturbing," said Aziraphale. "I mean I understand now why Gabriel was quite willing to go. Did you know he was waiting for them to condemn him to be fallen?"

"I saw it," said Crowley. "He even sounded like a dick accepting his fate."

"You saw it?" Aziraphale sat up slightly to look at Crowley. "When did you see it?"

"Went upstairs with that little angel who likes to dress like an anaemic police officer," said Crowley. "Not very good at keeping demons out, upstairs."

"You never mentioned."

"There wasn't time," said Crowley. "Anyway. Go on."

Aziraphale huffed and took another drink. "Well you know what happened then."

"Yep."

"And you know that the Metatron wasn't exactly very nice about it."

"Another monumental dick, yep," said Crowley.

Aziraphale sighed. "They told me Gabriel hadn't worked out. But I've been thinking about it and Gabriel walked away and gave up everything because he had grown fond of Beelzebub. But he'd been a dedicated archangel up to that point."

"That's about the size of it."

"So Metatron lied," said Aziraphale.

Crowley took another drink. "You sound surprised, angel."

"Angels don't lie."

"You lie all the time."

"All right, I do," said Aziraphale. "Other angels don't lie. They either don't know how to or they're afraid to do it."

"Sounds wonderful up in Heaven."

"It should be," said Aziraphale. "But Metatron definitely lied to me. And not just once. They've done it several times."

"I said they were a dick," said Crowley. "I'm not sure what you were expecting."

"I was expecting better," said Aziraphale. "Much better. And now what do I do? There isn't anyone I can tell. Whenever I've mentioned talking to God, Metatron is right there explaining that I just need to speak to them."

"You're telling me," said Crowley. "Am I no-one?"

Aziraphale turned properly and after putting his glass down when he nearly clocked Crowley in the jaw, he set his palms against the demon's cheeks and kissed him urgently. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Crowley's own.

"You're Crowley," he said quietly. "And there are so many things I want to be able to call you."

"What's stopping you?" asked Crowley. "Seriously. There's no-one else here."

Aziraphale sighed and kissed Crowley again. "I have a function to perform."

"If you're talking about sex then I have to tell you that there are much better ways to phrase it."

"Not that," said Aziraphale. "In Heaven. I have a job to do. And I'm afraid it doesn't allow for me to openly take a demon as my lover."

"But you're here anyway." Crowley leaned back on the sofa. "You don't want them to know about this."

"Hiding it is more appropriate."

"Not for me," said Crowley.

"No?"

Crowley grinned briefly. "Might get a recommendation if I bed the supreme archangel. Seat on the board."

"Crowley, please don't tell me that's why you're doing this."

"Not remotely," said Crowley. "But like I said. I don't care who knows. You clearly do."

Aziraphale hesitated before he kissed the demon again. "I can't lose you again."

"I'm not lost. Been right here," said Crowley. "Not lost."

"They could do terrible things to you."

"Promise?" Crowley chuckled when Aziraphale looked aghast. "Not a good joke, I admit. But still, there's nothing your lot can do to me that my lot haven't threatened to do a hundred times worse and in a place that isn't your nice squeaky clean upstairs."

Aziraphale stared. He had understood that Hell was a terrible place. It was in the name, clearly. And Crowley had spoken of it for several hundred years as an incompetent bureaucracy and that made sense to Aziraphale. Hell would naturally be a terrible place and its denizens had been beaten in the great war. They had been banished, doomed for all eternity to live in the very hellish Hell. It met with Aziraphale's world view that Hell didn't work.

Crowley had bragged about being a shining star and taken credit for all sorts of terrible things he didn't actually do as well as the accidentally terrible things he did do. And then there had been the time Aziraphale saw Crowley dragged literally to Hell in front of him. He was a different demon when they'd next met. He'd expressed worry and asked for something impossible for Aziraphale to give and there had been terrible, lonely years where they didn't speak.

Hell had clearly promised far more terrible punishments than Aziraphale could imagine. His brief time in the pit had been as horrifying as he'd always imagined and yet he walked out a little smug, confident that their trick had worked very well. He thought Crowley would be safe, at least for a while. That confidence had dimmed very quickly.

"Do they still threaten you?"

"Haven't been in contact in a while," said Crowley. "Without you as a confidant, they're not particularly interested."

"That must be a relief."

Crowley shrugged one shoulder. "Not sure," he said. "You get used to threats. It's almost comforting."

"It doesn't sound it," said Aziraphale. "It sounds terrible."

Crowley nodded. "You know, what really is terrible is not being able to do what I want."

"I haven't forgotten why I came here."

"I don't mean that," said Crowley. "I mean I do. Definitely. I'm not forgetting that. But no, I meant, I sort of miss that stupid shop."

Aziraphale stared. "You miss the bookshop?"

"Don't you?"

"Very much," said Aziraphale. "But you always said you didn't like it there. You liked not liking it there. You spent a lot of time liking not liking it there."

"That's what I mean," said Crowley. "I miss being annoyed at the bookshop."

"You could try going in," said Aziraphale. "I'm sure Muriel wouldn't mind."

"Don't want to," said Crowley. "You're not there to be annoyed at."

"Oh," said Aziraphale. He considered his options and smiled at the demon. "I am here now."

"Yes you are," said Crowley and set his glass down on the floor. He stroked his fingertips over the angel's temple. "Feel any better for talking about it?"

"I haven't really got a solution," said Aziraphale. "But yes, I do feel a little less troubled."

"Sure about that?" Crowley tugged the bowtie loose. "No tension whatsoever?"

"Some," said Aziraphale. He looked down as Crowley drew the bowtie off completely and tossed it toward the chair he didn't think Crowley sat in very often. It looked quite stark against the red fabric, but it didn't look as out of place as it might have done. Aziraphale watched Crowley intently as the demon unfastened the top of his shirt. "I'm not sure this will make me less tense," he said.

"I think it's a different sort of tension," said Crowley and continued to bare both skin and very sensible cotton beneath. He ran his fingertips, always warm, against the soft flesh there and leaned in to press his tongue against Aziraphale's pulse. The angel moaned and Crowley looked back up. "Could be the answer to solving all sorts of troublesome thoughts. You game?"

Aziraphale was suddenly very conscious that he'd come here with one objective and allowed Heaven to sidetrack him. It was very much unacceptable, decided the angel and he breathed out heavily and reached for Crowley. "I think it's worth a go," he said.

He couldn't quite keep track of who took off which piece of clothing after that. Since he'd begun thinking about Crowley in a more carnal way, Aziraphale had believed that if he was lucky enough to enjoy an intimate embrace with the demon, he would strip him slowly and savour every lost item of clothing. And that did sound very nice indeed, but this frantic act of getting naked had the sort of fervour that excited him today.

Aziraphale was quite focused when parts of Crowley became both naked and available to touch. The demon had flashed enough chest hair over the years to make Aziraphale quite obsessed with running his fingers over the bare skin and he took the time to do it now. He very much liked the hungry noises the demon made. He loved that suddenly there was warm naked skin against his own and he wasn't alone in his enthusiasm.

There were kisses available too, Crowley's arms wrapped round him and that expressive mouth crushed against his own. Aziraphale found he didn't know what he wanted to do first and so he kissed Crowley until he ran out of breath and had to lift his head. He panted as he leaned up and pressed Crowley against the sofa, naked and eager and not quite sure what to do.

"What does one do?" he asked and the demon laughed. "I really don't think that's helping."

"It's helping me," said Crowley. He stroked Aziraphale's hair and the smile faded some. "I should have said no to you going to drink coffee with Metatron. I should have taken you for that blasted alcoholic breakfast. I should have-"

"You should have taken me upstairs," said Aziraphale. "I mean you could have done. You didn't have to."

"No, you're right," said Crowley. "I should have kicked them all out and had you on the bookshop floor."

Aziraphale stared. "I don't have comfortable rugs on my floor."

"That's your complaint?"

"No," said Aziraphale. "I mean this is a very comfortable sofa. And that looks like a very fluffy and inviting rug. I don't really have anything like that in the bookshop?"

Crowley tilted his head. "Are you saying that I shouldn't have had you in the bookshop because you lack appropriate soft furnishings?"

"I'm saying this is rather lovely and I'm glad I'm here with you now."

Crowley slid his hand down to cup Aziraphale's cheek. "Do you regret saying yes?"

Aziraphale didn't hesitate. He leant down and kissed the demon, grateful when Crowley kissed him back. "I am supreme archangel and I think it's a terrible place."

"That's not quite an answer."

Aziraphale nodded. "I dislike being away from you," he said. "But if I didn't go, I wouldn't know that Heaven is not the place for us."

Crowley wrinkled his forehead. "You're glad you went because now you know you shouldn't have gone?"

"Not quite," said Aziraphale. "I needed to go because if I didn't, I would always believe that if I could only manage it, you and I would have all we needed up there. It would always be an option."

Crowley breathed out slowly and licked over his bottom lip. "And it's no longer an option?"

"It's no longer an option where I believe we can be together."

The demon seemed to consider this carefully. "Do you now believe we belong together?"

"Oh yes," said Aziraphale. He glanced round at the walls and then back at the demon. Crowley was a work of art, Aziraphale had been smitten since the very beginning when the demon's wings were white. He was a ridiculous creation with long limbs and a swagger that announced him before you looked at anything else. And Aziraphale looked at everything else. "Can we still be the us you spoke about?"

"I don't know," said Crowley. "Because we're not those people."

"I'm still me," said Aziraphale.

"But you're not," said Crowley. "You're the supreme archangel. I mean I know the last one bunked off and ran away with a duke of hell and I'm not even a local councillor. Not sure there's a way you can sneak away and it go unnoticed."

"I'd have to make a statement," said Aziraphale. "I'd have to…" he looked at Crowley and decided that the word that was on the tip of his tongue was not suitable at all. Forgiveness was not something the demon had ever wanted, though it was often offered to those who felt they didn't deserve it. It was the first time that Aziraphale realised that Crowley didn't want it because he didn't regret the actions he'd taken.

His lover was far from a perfect being and yet Aziraphale didn't believe there was anyone more worthy of being adored. Aziraphale rolled to his side and felt that same comfort when Crowley turned with him, a tangle of arms and legs on slightly sticky leather. "I would leave for you," Aziraphale said quietly.

"I don't want you to leave," said Crowley. "I mean you should. It's a terrible position and a terrible idea for you do it, but since you did, you need to make it work."

"You don't want me to leave for you?"

"I want you to make it work," said Crowley. "And then you should come down here and be with your demon lover."

Aziraphale blushed. "You do say some quite terrible things."

"Hardly wicked," said Crowley. "I haven't said fuck yet."

Aziraphale giggled and indulged, taking his kisses when they were on offer. "I don't know how to fix it," he said. "I wish I did. I've tried all sorts of little things and yet when Metatron speaks, they all tremble and comply."

"So they need to be taken out."

"I don't think they do dinner."

"Removed," said Crowley. "I mean how do you really know they speak for God?"

Aziraphale almost toed the party line and told Crowley that it was because the Metatron had said so. Angels who question had once become something else and a lot of that had been down to Metatron. So instead Aziraphale stroked Crowley's shoulder. "I don't know," he said. "I haven't heard from Her in a very long while."

"I don't think anyone has," said Crowley. He stretched a little and Aziraphale could feel the very pleasant rub of naked flesh against his own. All of it was delicious and as much as he'd come here and wanted to talk, it was losing its appeal against other, more urgent issues.

It seemed he wasn't alone and as they kissed on the cushions, Aziraphale found it was not at all how he'd imagined when Crowley finally crawled on top of him and he could feel the length of his body above his own. He knew there were certain mechanics that might be in place and had previously thought about it in a very abstract way. Part A goes here, part B goes there and yet, in the middle of a rather clumsy, yet determined embrace, Aziraphale found that it wasn't quite like that at all. It wasn't neat, it wasn't tidy and it was intense and rather lovely.

There was a wonderful conclusion to the whole activity that he hadn't suspected would be allowable to him. But there was delicious heat and physical relief and something close to complete joy in the intimacy on offer. Aziraphale discovered there was something unexpected beyond the act itself, when Crowley collapsed against him and he could feel the demon's breathing align with his own, slowing down from that fast pace that had driven them both beyond the brink.

Aziraphale stroked his hands slowly over Crowley's back and for a lovely moment he thought about nothing else. Just the sensation of the skin beneath his fingers, the play of muscle as the demon moved and the comforting weight of Crowley leaning against him. Even when Crowley lifted his head to deliver a kiss, Aziraphale found it was entirely possible to remain in the moment, to be nothing but Crowley's lover and let the worry slipped from his shoulders.

Crowley leaned up and smiled lazily down at Aziraphale. "Now that was extraordinary," he said as he stretched comfortably. "I've wanted to do for a long while."

"Oh really?" said Aziraphale. "How long is that exactly?"

"I don't know the exact year," said Crowley. "Let's call it a while."

"Before I left?"

"Long before that," said Crowley. "What about you? You ever had wicked thoughts?"

"It didn't feel wicked," said Aziraphale. He smiled and held the demon close. "It felt beautiful. I feel incredible."

"Yes you do," said Crowley. "So never before?"

"I did wonder," said Aziraphale. "What it might feel like to make love to someone."

"Not me?"

"I deliberately thought that it couldn't be you," said Aziraphale. "I worried that someone might notice, might think that I held affection for you. So I would think about making love and followed it up by thinking not Crowley. Never Crowley. I would never do that with Crowley."

Crowley stared. "That's a lot of not thinking about me you were doing."

"It happened a lot," admitted Aziraphale. "I spent quite a lot of time studiously avoiding thinking about you in a very intimate way."

"You old devil," said Crowley and chuckled when Aziraphale stared back at him. "Come on, you have to admit it's a little funny."

"I suppose it is," said Aziraphale. He sighed. "I don't want to leave."

"Do you have to?"

Aziraphale thought about it. Heaven was quite capable of looking at lots of places on Earth but he didn't think they could actually look here. It might just be a very stylish flat in Mayfair, but it was an outpost of Hell and much as a demon couldn't walk into his bookshop without an invite, he didn't think angels could stroll through the door here, or even climb inside the Bentley. Off limits and while he might get a query about his absence, that might be the worst of it.

"Not today," he said. "I suppose that means we have all evening."

"Such a terrible temptation," said Crowley. "I suppose I'll just have to give in to it."

They did just that. In Aziraphale's opinion, it was a very valid way to spend time and as far from wicked as he could imagine. There was something of the divine in the act and though it left his body aching and wrung out, he kept coming back for more. Aziraphale knew he would always come back for more.

By the time they made it onto the rug, Crowley decided that they should have food and alcohol and replenish their energy. When Crowley wrapped his robe round and headed to the door, Aziraphale tried out sprawling on the floor before he decided it wasn't him. The angel got up, tidied his clothes and set them neatly on the chair. He felt a little ridiculous waiting naked and if he happened to miracle a blanket into existence, then Aziraphale felt so long as it was black and red, Crowley wouldn't mind.

Crowley returned with boxed up sushi from a restaurant that didn't deliver until he persuaded them to do it. They left with a generous tip and a very hazy memory of the interaction. But it allowed Crowley to wander back in, dressing gown already shrugged off as he joined Aziraphale under the blanket.

"Did you get cold?"

"I felt it added to the decor," said Aziraphale.

"I've never needed a blanket before," said Crowley as he handed over cutlery and found another bottle. "What bothered you?"

"You weren't here and I was naked," said Aziraphale. "I prefer a little cover."

"Not so shy when I was in here."

"Then I was covered in you," said Aziraphale. He tasted the food and groaned. "When did we go to this restaurant?"

"1974," said Crowley. "They didn't do take out then."

"I didn't know they did it now," said Aziraphale. "It's delicious."

"It's not bad," said Crowley and lounged comfortably with a drink as Aziraphale polished off the last of the sushi. The angel dabbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin before he crawled over to Crowley and brought the blanket with him. Crowley lifted an arm and Aziraphale found that place where he could rest against the demon was comfortable and familiar.

"What if I can't stop it," Aziraphale said quietly. "What if it all has to go ahead?"

"Then the world ends and the great war will happen and you'll have an army of angels to command."

"I don't want to command an army."

"You're supreme archangel," said Crowley. "I think you're supposed to ride up front."

"I still don't want to," said Aziraphale.

"Well what do you want to do?"

Aziraphale paused. Although he'd thought about doing the right thing and on many occasions had managed to do so. He'd gone to Heaven to do the right thing and that hadn't quite worked out either. What he wanted to do was run a bookshop and entertain a beguiling demon. It didn't quite tally with the end of the world.

"I should like to stay here tomorrow," said Aziraphale. "All day. Would that be all right?"

"What about your big decision?"

"I think," said Aziraphale as he pushed Crowley back against the rug and pushed the blanket away. "That it can wait."

Crowley slid his hands over Aziraphale's chest. "You're staying?"

The angel said nothing, but he kissed Crowley anyway. He supposed you could never know how long you could have, but Aziraphale promised it would be as long as he could manage. One fabulous kiss had haunted him long enough to make him need to return. One fabulous fuck had always been the promise. And one fabulous demon made him want to stay until the stars faded from view.