Happy Holidays, YLC! (Part 2)
Title: A Crush Is Not the End of the World
Recipient: YLC
Rating: PG-13
Pairing, Characters: Aziraphale/Crowley, hints of Anathema/Newt
Summary: They get a new classmate and Crowley kind of likes him. Anathema figures this out in 0.3 seconds and makes everything possible to befriend the mysterious Swede.
Warnings (if any): none
Author's Notes (if any): Happy Holidays, YLC! I always wanted to write a highschool human AU, so I hope you’ll enjoy my story.
PART 1
Crowley had so much homework to do that - not bearing the stress - he instead decided to take a nap. An hour later, however, he received a call from a very excited Anathema.
“Anthony, you need to see this with your own eyes!”
“Hmm?” Crowley asked sleepily.
“Aziraphale, he, oh my god, he asked Hastur and Ligur to go with him in an empty classroom.”
Crowley jumped out of his bed. “What? And you let him?”
“No, no, you don’t understand. It’s completely the opposite. He made them sit down… oh, for Christ’s sake, just carry your arse here, you need to see this with your own eyes!”
Crowley couldn’t imagine why Anathema sounded so amused, but he really hoped that Aziraphale made the bullies pay. He certainly wanted to see that with his own eyes, so he ran to the school. He found Anathema peering through the small window on a classroom door.
“What did I miss?” Crowley whispered as he joined her.
“Oh, just the best thing in the world.”
Crowley looked inside: it was a very colourful classroom and he snickered when he saw Hastur and Ligur crouching on tiny chairs at lime green benches that were clearly designed for much smaller children. Aziraphale was perched on the desk in front of them, talking in what seemed a calm and warm manner. What stunned Crowley to silence, however, were the expressions on the boys’ face: their heads were downcast as in guilt, and they nodded from time to time at Aziraphale’s words. It seemed like Ligur even wiped away a tear.
Aziraphale got up, so Crowley led Anathema quickly behind the corner, not wanting to be caught spying on their friend. The pair looked in wonder as the door opened and Aziraphale shook hands with the boys. Ligur even went so far as to hug Aziraphale which made Crowley draw in a sharp breath. What in the name of God had happened inside? Hastur and Ligur said their cheery goodbyes and Crowley could swear that their eyes were red, but they left smiling. Aziraphale looked very pleased as he zipped up his coat and exited the building.
Anathema and Crowley walked home silently. If anyone had told them that Aziraphale was a wizard, they would have readily believed it.
* * * * *
It seemed like Aziraphale’s method was effective and no one would ever bother him. Without the threat of bullying looming over his head, his cheer and brilliant smile returned. Crowley and Anathema were dying of curiosity; they could not even imagine what Aziraphale could have said to Hastur and Ligur. They would probably never find out, not without revealing themselves.
Tests became ever more frequent and Crowley was behind with his reading list. He felt as if everyone was coping better; Anathema had rehearsals with the school orchestra three times a week and yet still managed to do her schoolwork as well. Not even mentioning Aziraphale; he was always ahead of everybody. Crowley barely read a hundred pages of Lord of the Flies when the blonde had already started the next book on their reading list. Crowley started panicking, but Aziraphale assured him that he could still catch up.
“But when do you have time to read so much?” Crowley asked, eating soup, reading the novel and talking to his friend at the same time.
“Well, I don’t watch TV, just read in the evening.”
Crowley groaned. “Ugh, I’ll never finish this, so I’m going to fail and then my mum will surely kill me. Please, say only nice things at my funeral.”
Aziraphale laughed and patted Crowley’s shoulder. “Come on, I know you can do it!”
Crowley smiled, grateful for the encouragement and especially the accompanying touch.
* * * * *
It was a grey Friday afternoon in November and Crowley was sitting at his desk, looking at a picture of a Bentley on his laptop and trying to draw it. He had finished reading Lord of the Flies and decided that he deserved to do something fun. He didn’t think he was very skilled, but when he drew he could disconnect from the world. He heard the front door open - it was his mum, returning from work. Crowley padded to the kitchen where his mum was taking out the groceries from a bag, and he put his hands over her eyes.
“Guess.”
“Someone with cold hands,” his mum replied.
“Wrong answer. Two tries left.”
“Anthony Jacopo Crowley.”
“Aww, mum, you’re no fun!” Crowley complained as he took away his hands. “I told you my middle name is never to be uttered again. I still can’t believe you couldn’t find a cooler one.”
His mum laughed. “Blame your father; he wanted you to have an Italian name as well.”
“Yes, but why couldn’t he choose something like Leonardo or Marcello? Anyway, what’s for dinner?”
“How about homemade pizza?”
“Sounds fantastic.”
Crowley was about to go back to his room, but his mum called after him, “Come and sit here with me while I make the dough, so I don’t get bored.”
“Okay, let me just get this book and my notebook so I can do something useful too.”
He looked in his backpack, but he couldn’t find it. It wasn’t on his desk either…
“Goddamn it!”
“Hello, young man, language!”
“I think I actually forgot to loan the book. Ah, I can’t believe this!” Crowley whined. “And I need it for Monday.”
“Well, isn’t the library open till seven?”
“Six on Fridays.”
“You still have time. Go!”
Crowley hurried and got there with thirteen minutes before closing. He took off his scarf and his sunglasses, panting and wiping his forehead. How he hated running. He went to the shelf and found the “vanished” book, grimacing at it for making him run to the library on a Friday afternoon. He was checking out his book when he noticed a familiar blonde crown of hair at the back of the library.
“Aziraphale? Why are you still here on a Friday?”
“Oh, hi. Umm… I… I don’t know. My parents are at a conference for the whole weekend, so I guess I didn’t want to go home.”
Crowley’s face fell, but he tried to hide it. “Would you like to come to my place?”
“Are you sure? Am I not disturbing you?”
“Of course not. Just hurry up, ‘cause I think Mrs. Thomas wants to kick us out,” Crowley whispered, looking at the librarian from the corner of his eyes.
Aziraphale giggled and they were outside in a couple of minutes, walking briskly in the cold evening. Crowley hated that it was getting dark so early.
“Crowley, may I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why do you always wear sunglasses outside?”
Crowley smirked. The million dollar question had been asked. “Because I look more awesome?”
Aziraphale smiled, pulling up the hood of his coat. “If you say so… at least you don’t wear them in the school.”
“I used to, but my teachers complained, and I had to find other ways to be awesome.”
“I’m glad you were successful.”
Crowley blushed and his ice-cold fingers fumbled with the door key. He let Aziraphale enter first, and soon both of them were hit by the warm, rich smell of the pizza.
“Uh, Crowley, are you sure it’s okay that I came over?” Aziraphale whispered, wringing his hands.
“Of course.”
Then Crowley shouted to his mother: “Mum, I met Aziraphale in the library and I invited him over. You’re cool with it, right?”
Ms. Crowley came from the kitchen bearing a huge grin. “Of course, darling. I finally get to meet you,” she said, turning to the blonde. “Anthony and Anathema don’t stop talking about you.”
Aziraphale laughed and glanced at his friend who was suddenly very red, then shook hands with Ms. Crowley.
“The pizza will be ready in ten minutes. I’ll bring it to your room, okay?”
“Thanks, you’re the best!” Crowley said and winked, then led Aziraphale to his room.
He knew what would attract Aziraphale’s attention first, and he expected a comment in 3… 2… 1: “Wow, you have so many plants!”
Crowley looked amused as his friend went to the window. “Your orchids are so lovely and colourful. Why didn’t you tell me that you practically live in a beautiful garden?”
“I guess it’s not something you just simply mention in a normal conversation. It’s not a usual hobby for someone my age, is it?” Crowley shrugged.
“That doesn’t matter. It’s very impressive.”
Aziraphale’s eyes then settled on a piece of paper on the desk. “Don’t tell me you drew that.”
Crowley completely forgot that he left his doodle on display. “It’s just a sketch, nothing good.”
“You’re way too modest, Crowley. Consider yourself lucky that we didn’t know each other before, otherwise I would have bribed you to do all my Art assignments. What model is this?”
“It’s a Bentley from 1926. I’m more into retro cars,” Crowley admitted.
“Yes, it’s very stylish. Great job on the shading. But seriously, do you have other hidden talents I should know about?” Aziraphale asked sweetly.
“No. All my secrets have been revealed…”
There was a knock on the door and Crowley’s mum brought in the pizzas. The boys sat down on the bed and started eating. A few minutes later, however, Crowley noticed that Aziraphale stopped and was just staring at his plate.
“Are you all right?”
There was a ghost of a smile on Aziraphale’s face. “Of course. It just occurred to me that this is the first dinner in a month that I’m not eating alone.”
“Are your parents always that busy?” Crowley asked quietly.
“Most of the time. It was even worse in Sweden, though. I barely got to see dad. I don’t mean to upset you, though,” Aziraphale looked up quickly. “I know it’s not easy for you either.”
“It’s all right. So that’s why you stay in the library?”
“It’s better than sitting in an empty house. That’s why I also read faster, I guess. I used to stay in the library since I was little and read most of the books, and because of that I can’t say that I was very popular. So having you and Anathema as friends - well, it is a new experience.”
Crowley nodded understandingly. It was the same with him before Anathema befriended him; he knew what it meant to be the weird kid. He changed the subject to take Aziraphale’s mind off of unpleasant memories. They talked about school, books and the upcoming show to be given by the school’s orchestra.
“I really want to go, not just because Anathema invited me,” Aziraphale said as they exited the room to take the dishes into the kitchen. “Plus they are doing it for a good cause.”
“It’s really nice. You heard Anathema play before, but with the orchestra behind her it’s even more impressive.”
“Was the pizza good?” Crowley’s mum asked from the living room.
“Excellent!” Aziraphale replied.
“I’m glad,” Ms. Crowley replied. “Anthony, please bring the mattress from the guest room.”
“Why?”
“Well, isn’t Aziraphale staying overnight?”
“Oh no, Ms. Crowley, I have imposed on you long enough. I should go…” Aziraphale rushed to say.
“Nonsense, it’s late and cold out outside. I’m sure Anthony would love to have you longer, right?”
“Yes, of course. Please, Aziraphale, stay.”
He could see on the blonde’s face that he wouldn’t be able to refuse him, but he still sent Aziraphale a grateful smile when he accepted. Crowley brought the mattress in his room and then they watched films and talked until Ms. Crowley told them at around midnight that it would be advisable to go to bed. Crowley felt a bit awkward giving Aziraphale one of his pyjamas, even though his friend must have felt the same way.
However, Aziraphale laughed when he showed Crowley how long the sleeves were for him. Crowley let Aziraphale take the bed and he lay down on the mattress. They talked even after they turned off the lights, and honestly, Crowley didn’t even know when was the last time he fell asleep so smoothly, to a voice so soft and comforting.
* * * * *
He couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his lips after he told Anathema about his unexpectedly great weekend. Crowley saw in his friend’s eyes that she was excited and very happy for him.
“Gosh, I can’t believe how close you are to sweeping him off his feet! It’s so sweet! You know what, it’s time to brace yourself up and finally say something! It’s not enough to just sigh during classes and look at him with moony eyes.”
“I don’t look at him with moony eyes!” Crowley protested.
Judging by Anathema’s expression, she clearly didn’t agree with it. “Listen, you have a little more than a week to muster up your courage and just do something at the concert. There will be a dance party too after we play, so it should be the perfect opportunity.”
Crowley liked the idea in theory, but putting it into practice… not so much. What would he say? ‘Aziraphale, I like you.’ ‘Me too, Crowley.’ ‘No, no, I like you on a deeper level.’ ‘Yes, ours is a beautiful friendship.’ He’d probably have to be very clear and specific… it would probably be better if he even wrote down what he wanted to say beforehand. But he couldn’t think about it in that moment.
“Are you nervous about the show? Do you still have problems with that piece?” Crowley asked.
Anathema sighed. “No, I finally got it, I hope. This might sound crazy, but I’m actually nervous because Newt said he’d come to see the show.”
Crowley almost dropped his books. “What? Are you joking?”
“I know, right? It’s crazy! He said he doesn’t mind travelling.”
“Oh, that boy is serious. Wow. I am really looking forward to this concert!”
* * * * *
Crowley, standing in front of the mirror, regretted ever saying that sentence. After having watched a video on Youtube, he finally managed to do a knot on his tie on his fifth try. His whole attire was black, except the tie which was bright red. He hated the pimple that was still on his chin even after three days of treating it with various products, but at least his hair looked nice: now it was long enough to comb it back for an elegant appearance. He hurried up, his mum already waiting in the car.
Ten minutes later, Crowley walked into the concert hall. He looked around and greeted a few people until he noticed Aziraphale, Anathema and a boy who had to be Newt talking in a corner. He quickly left his coat in the cloakroom and went to his friends.
“Anthony! Hi! Look at you, so elegant!” Anathema exclaimed and winked. “Here, let me introduce you to my friend Newt.”
Crowley shook hands with the guy who seemed shy and timid, probably the perfect match for Anathema who talked enough for two people. He then looked at Aziraphale properly and noted how well the steel blue suit looked on him, although he didn’t quite understand the tartan bowtie paired with it. It had to be some Swedish thing. Anathema had to go and the audience was let inside. Newt had his seat on the balcony, so he said goodbye to the boys. Aziraphale led the way to their seats and he smiled at Crowley as they sat down.
“Hi, Aziraphale! Crowley.”
The slightly irritating voice belonged to a girl Crowley vaguely recognised as a colleague from the biology classes. She sat down beside Aziraphale and instantly, they started an animated conversation. Crowley raised his eyebrows; he had seen the girl around Aziraphale before, but didn’t know that they were so friendly with each other. Ten minutes later, Crowley was sulking in his seat. He would have to wait until the end to talk to his friend properly.
Finally, the concert began and every conversation stopped. The members of the orchestra and their music teacher came on the stage and everyone occupied their places. When Anathema looked in their direction, Crowley smiled encouragingly at her. They had rehearsed so much, it had to go perfectly. After a few songs, Aziraphale leaned towards Crowley and whispered how talented Anathema was, and Crowley nodded in agreement. She got better every time. The concert was a great success and people applauded the young musicians for a long time, which made Anathema a bit teary.
Aziraphale and Crowley tried to navigate through the people who attended the concert and get to the dance hall. It was pretty crowded and music was already playing. Crowley’s stomach clenched repeatedly and he didn’t think he was ready to confess his feelings to his friend. He looked around helplessly.
“Hey, I’m going to get some drinks for us, okay?” Crowley said and his friend nodded.
In the meantime Crowley repeated the speech in his head, and hoped that he would not mess it up. He was clutching two glasses of juice and tried to go back without spilling them on himself when he noticed that Aziraphale was not alone anymore. That annoying girl who sat beside him was talking to Aziraphale, and touching her hair and giggling and fluttering her fake eyelashes. And Aziraphale had a smile on his face! But then the girl took his hand and dragged him to the dance floor. In Aziraphale’s defence, though, he looked around quite helplessly.
Nevertheless, Crowley was flooded by a disappointment so bitter he couldn’t even move for a good minute. He then put down the glasses and walked out with firm steps, without even looking back. He took his coat from the cloakroom and vanished without anyone noticing him. He texted Anathema, praising her for her brilliant performance, but he couldn’t stay for he had a nasty migraine. Crowley took out his sunglasses from his pocket and walked silently home. Rage boiling in his system, he hissed at the ugliest plant in his room, banished it to the living room and locked the door.
* * * * *
Aziraphale had called him and texted him, but Crowley only answered the next day, giving him the same lame excuse as to Anathema. Aziraphale messaged him that he hoped Crowley would feel better soon. Anathema, however, didn’t give up and phoned him on his home number. His mum, of course, picked it up and told Anathema that Crowley was fine, albeit in a foul mood. Then he had to confess everything.
“Oh, Anthony, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not interested! You yourself said that the girl practically pounced on him. I must tell you, Aziraphale was really worried when you disappeared. He came running to me and that’s when I noticed your message. He didn’t even stay long after that.”
“It doesn’t matter, Anathema. I guess he’s just not into relationships. Who knows, maybe he doesn’t like boys. Or he’s asexual. Whatever. I’ll… I’ll try to think of him just as a friend. He’s a nice guy after all.”
“Please, don’t give up.”
* * * * *
Monday morning was a bit awkward when Crowley had to face Aziraphale. He seemed the same, kind young man and his first question was if Crowley felt better - as Anathema said, he was genuinely concerned. He didn’t even dare look in Aziraphale’s pale blue eyes. How could he? Even his soft voice hurt Crowley, now that he realised that he would never have him. At least he only had to survive one week of school and then maybe he could forget him in the winter break.
Crowley tried to keep his distance and remained quiet most of the time when Aziraphale would join them. He felt his friends’ eyes on him, but he couldn’t look into them, lest all his feelings would be instantly known. Anathema chided him when they were alone, but Crowley gradually slipped into self-pity. They were watching Aziraphale from afar, as he was talking with Mrs. Zhang.
“Now, now, Anthony, don’t look so crestfallen! A crush is not the end of the world!”
“Well, it certainly feels that way!” Crowley exclaimed. “I mean just look at his stupid smile and his beautiful, ssstupid face and I can’t even be upset with him! I hate him for it! He’s just too nice.”
Anathema just sighed and leaned against Crowley.
The last day of school brought joy for most pupils, but Crowley had conflicting feelings. Aziraphale came up to them to wish them happy holidays and hugged Anathema. He was a bit hesitant when he looked at Crowley, but when Crowley extended his hand, Aziraphale hugged him too. Crowley stood there mumbling something that resembled ‘Merry Christmas’. He walked home thinking about that hug with a smile on his face. He really could not stay angry with the blonde. He felt so generous that he even took back the banished plant into his room. Later that day, he got a text from Anathema, inviting him to go skating the next day. He felt like maybe things were looking up.
* * * * *
Crowley and Aziraphale were standing in front of Anathema’s door. Although Anathema didn’t say it explicitly, Crowley had a hunch that it wouldn’t be just the two of them. He rang the doorbell and hoped that Anathema was ready to go. Instead, she appeared in the door with a blanket around her shoulders and was blowing her nose furiously.
“Hello. Haven’t you two received my text?”
“What text?” Crowley asked suspiciously.
“Oh no, you haven’t… I texted you like an hour ago. I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t go. I caught a cold, and I feel like a lemon that’s been squeezed out.”
“I hope you feel better soon, dear,” Aziraphale said. “It would have been nice to go out, but we can always do it later.”
“No, why would you change your plans? You two go and have fun. It will get dark soon and the ice rink looks so lovely with all the fairy lights. Come on, don’t loiter here!” Anathema practically shooed the boys from her door, even though Crowley was giving her the ‘I’ll kill you next time’ glare. He just hoped that Aziraphale was fooled by her trick.
Crowley was walking with hunched-up shoulders, much too aware of the silence that was so difficult to break. He looked at Aziraphale, (well, from his point of view he was actually looking at the top of Aziraphale’s head, covered with that funny hat with reindeers on it), and wondered if it was a good idea for just the two of them to go. But he couldn’t bail out again.
“So, how was your first day of holiday?” Aziraphale asked.
“Nice. I could finally sleep in,” Crowley replied with relief. “Yours?”
Maybe it was some Christmas miracle, but the simple small talk turned into one of their usual conversations. Crowley found it so liberating that he could talk to Aziraphale openly yet again, and not worry about saying something silly. It even started snowing, so by the time they arrived to the ice rink, they were both in high spirits.
Anathema was right as always: the ice rink looked as a scene from a winter fairytale. There was a tall, golden Christmas tree and all around the rink electric blue fairy lights. Laughter and cheerful voices filled the air. Crowley wondered why he hadn’t visited before; it looked so fun! But after he put on his skates and entered the rink, he found out the answer to that question: he couldn’t stay on his feet for more than twenty seconds.
He was cursing under his breath as he flailed wildly with his arms like a nestling that was learning how to fly. Meanwhile, Aziraphale was skating like an expert, with a lot of skill and grace. He could even do pirouettes! Pirouettes! Oh, Anathema would have to pay for this humiliation. He had barely got up when Crowley felt that he would lose his balance again.
However, there was a glove-covered hand clasping his, that saved him from falling on his arse yet again. It was Aziraphale, of course, whose grin was just a tiny bit mocking.
“Don’t stand so rigidly, Crowley. Bend your knees a bit and use the inner edges of your skates. Extend your arms, it will help you with balancing.”
Aziraphale showed him the basics and Crowley practised beside the rink, gripping it from time to time when he felt that he was going to land on his backside. After ten minutes of practice, he managed to glide quite well and he grinned victoriously as he stopped in front of Aziraphale.
“Good job! Let’s go out in the open now.”
“Uhm, no, I’m fine here, but you go and do your pirouettes,” Crowley answered, but he had no time to protest.
Aziraphale took his hand and practically dragged Crowley with him. They were skating leisurely and Crowley felt safe, knowing that Aziraphale was so good at this. His arse was saved from more bruises. The tiny snowflakes were falling lazily over them and it was just too beautiful. Aziraphale seemed to enjoy himself even more with Crowley by his side, though once he pretended to have lost his balance, giving Crowley a minor heart attack and then laughing at his friend’s expression. He could be a right bastard, Crowley ascertained, but he just squeezed his hand tighter.
Feeling a little bold and giddy, Crowley thought he would take over the lead. It went well for about three seconds when suddenly, he slipped and fell down, dragging Aziraphale with him. They whined in pain at first, then laughed at Crowley’s clumsiness.
“You’re a lousy skater, Crowley,” Aziraphale said with a smile, as he was about to get up from his friend’s chest.
“You know, you can call me Anthony,” Crowley said and tugged at the string of Aziraphale’s hat.
He was admiring Aziraphale’s red nose and his sweet rosy cheeks and lovely blue eyes when suddenly, there were two gloved hands cupping his face and stroking his own cold cheeks. Crowley made a high-pitched sound as Aziraphale kissed him, the blonde chuckling as their lips parted. Crowley blinked a few times before he tugged again at the strings on Aziraphale’s hat, bringing him closer for more kisses.
“You know, we should really get up from the ice, Anthony,” Aziraphale whispered, but then he placed a frosty kiss on Crowley’s warm neck, between his jaw and scarf.
“How did you know…? Did she tell you?” Crowley asked, dazzled, and gripped Aziraphale’s hand as he tried to get up.
“Anathema? No. I just hoped that you liked me too, so I took my chance. Although, you know, sometimes the look in your eyes… that was what gave me hope.”
Crowley blushed. Anathema won again; if even Aziraphale noticed his moony eyes… he must have been really obvious. But did the blonde imply that he’d liked him for a while now? He had to find out more.
“How about we go and drink some hot chocolate and you can tell me more about your crush,” Crowley offered with an impish smile.
“Sounds good, but I think you will do most of the talking about your crush.”
Crowley shook his head and laughed. “Okay, lead the way.”
As Aziraphale smiled at him with eyes brighter than the fairy lights, Crowley thought that no, a crush was not the end of the world, but rather the promise of a better one.
Recipient: YLC
Rating: PG-13
Pairing, Characters: Aziraphale/Crowley, hints of Anathema/Newt
Summary: They get a new classmate and Crowley kind of likes him. Anathema figures this out in 0.3 seconds and makes everything possible to befriend the mysterious Swede.
Warnings (if any): none
Author's Notes (if any): Happy Holidays, YLC! I always wanted to write a highschool human AU, so I hope you’ll enjoy my story.
PART 1
Crowley had so much homework to do that - not bearing the stress - he instead decided to take a nap. An hour later, however, he received a call from a very excited Anathema.
“Anthony, you need to see this with your own eyes!”
“Hmm?” Crowley asked sleepily.
“Aziraphale, he, oh my god, he asked Hastur and Ligur to go with him in an empty classroom.”
Crowley jumped out of his bed. “What? And you let him?”
“No, no, you don’t understand. It’s completely the opposite. He made them sit down… oh, for Christ’s sake, just carry your arse here, you need to see this with your own eyes!”
Crowley couldn’t imagine why Anathema sounded so amused, but he really hoped that Aziraphale made the bullies pay. He certainly wanted to see that with his own eyes, so he ran to the school. He found Anathema peering through the small window on a classroom door.
“What did I miss?” Crowley whispered as he joined her.
“Oh, just the best thing in the world.”
Crowley looked inside: it was a very colourful classroom and he snickered when he saw Hastur and Ligur crouching on tiny chairs at lime green benches that were clearly designed for much smaller children. Aziraphale was perched on the desk in front of them, talking in what seemed a calm and warm manner. What stunned Crowley to silence, however, were the expressions on the boys’ face: their heads were downcast as in guilt, and they nodded from time to time at Aziraphale’s words. It seemed like Ligur even wiped away a tear.
Aziraphale got up, so Crowley led Anathema quickly behind the corner, not wanting to be caught spying on their friend. The pair looked in wonder as the door opened and Aziraphale shook hands with the boys. Ligur even went so far as to hug Aziraphale which made Crowley draw in a sharp breath. What in the name of God had happened inside? Hastur and Ligur said their cheery goodbyes and Crowley could swear that their eyes were red, but they left smiling. Aziraphale looked very pleased as he zipped up his coat and exited the building.
Anathema and Crowley walked home silently. If anyone had told them that Aziraphale was a wizard, they would have readily believed it.
* * * * *
It seemed like Aziraphale’s method was effective and no one would ever bother him. Without the threat of bullying looming over his head, his cheer and brilliant smile returned. Crowley and Anathema were dying of curiosity; they could not even imagine what Aziraphale could have said to Hastur and Ligur. They would probably never find out, not without revealing themselves.
Tests became ever more frequent and Crowley was behind with his reading list. He felt as if everyone was coping better; Anathema had rehearsals with the school orchestra three times a week and yet still managed to do her schoolwork as well. Not even mentioning Aziraphale; he was always ahead of everybody. Crowley barely read a hundred pages of Lord of the Flies when the blonde had already started the next book on their reading list. Crowley started panicking, but Aziraphale assured him that he could still catch up.
“But when do you have time to read so much?” Crowley asked, eating soup, reading the novel and talking to his friend at the same time.
“Well, I don’t watch TV, just read in the evening.”
Crowley groaned. “Ugh, I’ll never finish this, so I’m going to fail and then my mum will surely kill me. Please, say only nice things at my funeral.”
Aziraphale laughed and patted Crowley’s shoulder. “Come on, I know you can do it!”
Crowley smiled, grateful for the encouragement and especially the accompanying touch.
* * * * *
It was a grey Friday afternoon in November and Crowley was sitting at his desk, looking at a picture of a Bentley on his laptop and trying to draw it. He had finished reading Lord of the Flies and decided that he deserved to do something fun. He didn’t think he was very skilled, but when he drew he could disconnect from the world. He heard the front door open - it was his mum, returning from work. Crowley padded to the kitchen where his mum was taking out the groceries from a bag, and he put his hands over her eyes.
“Guess.”
“Someone with cold hands,” his mum replied.
“Wrong answer. Two tries left.”
“Anthony Jacopo Crowley.”
“Aww, mum, you’re no fun!” Crowley complained as he took away his hands. “I told you my middle name is never to be uttered again. I still can’t believe you couldn’t find a cooler one.”
His mum laughed. “Blame your father; he wanted you to have an Italian name as well.”
“Yes, but why couldn’t he choose something like Leonardo or Marcello? Anyway, what’s for dinner?”
“How about homemade pizza?”
“Sounds fantastic.”
Crowley was about to go back to his room, but his mum called after him, “Come and sit here with me while I make the dough, so I don’t get bored.”
“Okay, let me just get this book and my notebook so I can do something useful too.”
He looked in his backpack, but he couldn’t find it. It wasn’t on his desk either…
“Goddamn it!”
“Hello, young man, language!”
“I think I actually forgot to loan the book. Ah, I can’t believe this!” Crowley whined. “And I need it for Monday.”
“Well, isn’t the library open till seven?”
“Six on Fridays.”
“You still have time. Go!”
Crowley hurried and got there with thirteen minutes before closing. He took off his scarf and his sunglasses, panting and wiping his forehead. How he hated running. He went to the shelf and found the “vanished” book, grimacing at it for making him run to the library on a Friday afternoon. He was checking out his book when he noticed a familiar blonde crown of hair at the back of the library.
“Aziraphale? Why are you still here on a Friday?”
“Oh, hi. Umm… I… I don’t know. My parents are at a conference for the whole weekend, so I guess I didn’t want to go home.”
Crowley’s face fell, but he tried to hide it. “Would you like to come to my place?”
“Are you sure? Am I not disturbing you?”
“Of course not. Just hurry up, ‘cause I think Mrs. Thomas wants to kick us out,” Crowley whispered, looking at the librarian from the corner of his eyes.
Aziraphale giggled and they were outside in a couple of minutes, walking briskly in the cold evening. Crowley hated that it was getting dark so early.
“Crowley, may I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why do you always wear sunglasses outside?”
Crowley smirked. The million dollar question had been asked. “Because I look more awesome?”
Aziraphale smiled, pulling up the hood of his coat. “If you say so… at least you don’t wear them in the school.”
“I used to, but my teachers complained, and I had to find other ways to be awesome.”
“I’m glad you were successful.”
Crowley blushed and his ice-cold fingers fumbled with the door key. He let Aziraphale enter first, and soon both of them were hit by the warm, rich smell of the pizza.
“Uh, Crowley, are you sure it’s okay that I came over?” Aziraphale whispered, wringing his hands.
“Of course.”
Then Crowley shouted to his mother: “Mum, I met Aziraphale in the library and I invited him over. You’re cool with it, right?”
Ms. Crowley came from the kitchen bearing a huge grin. “Of course, darling. I finally get to meet you,” she said, turning to the blonde. “Anthony and Anathema don’t stop talking about you.”
Aziraphale laughed and glanced at his friend who was suddenly very red, then shook hands with Ms. Crowley.
“The pizza will be ready in ten minutes. I’ll bring it to your room, okay?”
“Thanks, you’re the best!” Crowley said and winked, then led Aziraphale to his room.
He knew what would attract Aziraphale’s attention first, and he expected a comment in 3… 2… 1: “Wow, you have so many plants!”
Crowley looked amused as his friend went to the window. “Your orchids are so lovely and colourful. Why didn’t you tell me that you practically live in a beautiful garden?”
“I guess it’s not something you just simply mention in a normal conversation. It’s not a usual hobby for someone my age, is it?” Crowley shrugged.
“That doesn’t matter. It’s very impressive.”
Aziraphale’s eyes then settled on a piece of paper on the desk. “Don’t tell me you drew that.”
Crowley completely forgot that he left his doodle on display. “It’s just a sketch, nothing good.”
“You’re way too modest, Crowley. Consider yourself lucky that we didn’t know each other before, otherwise I would have bribed you to do all my Art assignments. What model is this?”
“It’s a Bentley from 1926. I’m more into retro cars,” Crowley admitted.
“Yes, it’s very stylish. Great job on the shading. But seriously, do you have other hidden talents I should know about?” Aziraphale asked sweetly.
“No. All my secrets have been revealed…”
There was a knock on the door and Crowley’s mum brought in the pizzas. The boys sat down on the bed and started eating. A few minutes later, however, Crowley noticed that Aziraphale stopped and was just staring at his plate.
“Are you all right?”
There was a ghost of a smile on Aziraphale’s face. “Of course. It just occurred to me that this is the first dinner in a month that I’m not eating alone.”
“Are your parents always that busy?” Crowley asked quietly.
“Most of the time. It was even worse in Sweden, though. I barely got to see dad. I don’t mean to upset you, though,” Aziraphale looked up quickly. “I know it’s not easy for you either.”
“It’s all right. So that’s why you stay in the library?”
“It’s better than sitting in an empty house. That’s why I also read faster, I guess. I used to stay in the library since I was little and read most of the books, and because of that I can’t say that I was very popular. So having you and Anathema as friends - well, it is a new experience.”
Crowley nodded understandingly. It was the same with him before Anathema befriended him; he knew what it meant to be the weird kid. He changed the subject to take Aziraphale’s mind off of unpleasant memories. They talked about school, books and the upcoming show to be given by the school’s orchestra.
“I really want to go, not just because Anathema invited me,” Aziraphale said as they exited the room to take the dishes into the kitchen. “Plus they are doing it for a good cause.”
“It’s really nice. You heard Anathema play before, but with the orchestra behind her it’s even more impressive.”
“Was the pizza good?” Crowley’s mum asked from the living room.
“Excellent!” Aziraphale replied.
“I’m glad,” Ms. Crowley replied. “Anthony, please bring the mattress from the guest room.”
“Why?”
“Well, isn’t Aziraphale staying overnight?”
“Oh no, Ms. Crowley, I have imposed on you long enough. I should go…” Aziraphale rushed to say.
“Nonsense, it’s late and cold out outside. I’m sure Anthony would love to have you longer, right?”
“Yes, of course. Please, Aziraphale, stay.”
He could see on the blonde’s face that he wouldn’t be able to refuse him, but he still sent Aziraphale a grateful smile when he accepted. Crowley brought the mattress in his room and then they watched films and talked until Ms. Crowley told them at around midnight that it would be advisable to go to bed. Crowley felt a bit awkward giving Aziraphale one of his pyjamas, even though his friend must have felt the same way.
However, Aziraphale laughed when he showed Crowley how long the sleeves were for him. Crowley let Aziraphale take the bed and he lay down on the mattress. They talked even after they turned off the lights, and honestly, Crowley didn’t even know when was the last time he fell asleep so smoothly, to a voice so soft and comforting.
* * * * *
He couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his lips after he told Anathema about his unexpectedly great weekend. Crowley saw in his friend’s eyes that she was excited and very happy for him.
“Gosh, I can’t believe how close you are to sweeping him off his feet! It’s so sweet! You know what, it’s time to brace yourself up and finally say something! It’s not enough to just sigh during classes and look at him with moony eyes.”
“I don’t look at him with moony eyes!” Crowley protested.
Judging by Anathema’s expression, she clearly didn’t agree with it. “Listen, you have a little more than a week to muster up your courage and just do something at the concert. There will be a dance party too after we play, so it should be the perfect opportunity.”
Crowley liked the idea in theory, but putting it into practice… not so much. What would he say? ‘Aziraphale, I like you.’ ‘Me too, Crowley.’ ‘No, no, I like you on a deeper level.’ ‘Yes, ours is a beautiful friendship.’ He’d probably have to be very clear and specific… it would probably be better if he even wrote down what he wanted to say beforehand. But he couldn’t think about it in that moment.
“Are you nervous about the show? Do you still have problems with that piece?” Crowley asked.
Anathema sighed. “No, I finally got it, I hope. This might sound crazy, but I’m actually nervous because Newt said he’d come to see the show.”
Crowley almost dropped his books. “What? Are you joking?”
“I know, right? It’s crazy! He said he doesn’t mind travelling.”
“Oh, that boy is serious. Wow. I am really looking forward to this concert!”
* * * * *
Crowley, standing in front of the mirror, regretted ever saying that sentence. After having watched a video on Youtube, he finally managed to do a knot on his tie on his fifth try. His whole attire was black, except the tie which was bright red. He hated the pimple that was still on his chin even after three days of treating it with various products, but at least his hair looked nice: now it was long enough to comb it back for an elegant appearance. He hurried up, his mum already waiting in the car.
Ten minutes later, Crowley walked into the concert hall. He looked around and greeted a few people until he noticed Aziraphale, Anathema and a boy who had to be Newt talking in a corner. He quickly left his coat in the cloakroom and went to his friends.
“Anthony! Hi! Look at you, so elegant!” Anathema exclaimed and winked. “Here, let me introduce you to my friend Newt.”
Crowley shook hands with the guy who seemed shy and timid, probably the perfect match for Anathema who talked enough for two people. He then looked at Aziraphale properly and noted how well the steel blue suit looked on him, although he didn’t quite understand the tartan bowtie paired with it. It had to be some Swedish thing. Anathema had to go and the audience was let inside. Newt had his seat on the balcony, so he said goodbye to the boys. Aziraphale led the way to their seats and he smiled at Crowley as they sat down.
“Hi, Aziraphale! Crowley.”
The slightly irritating voice belonged to a girl Crowley vaguely recognised as a colleague from the biology classes. She sat down beside Aziraphale and instantly, they started an animated conversation. Crowley raised his eyebrows; he had seen the girl around Aziraphale before, but didn’t know that they were so friendly with each other. Ten minutes later, Crowley was sulking in his seat. He would have to wait until the end to talk to his friend properly.
Finally, the concert began and every conversation stopped. The members of the orchestra and their music teacher came on the stage and everyone occupied their places. When Anathema looked in their direction, Crowley smiled encouragingly at her. They had rehearsed so much, it had to go perfectly. After a few songs, Aziraphale leaned towards Crowley and whispered how talented Anathema was, and Crowley nodded in agreement. She got better every time. The concert was a great success and people applauded the young musicians for a long time, which made Anathema a bit teary.
Aziraphale and Crowley tried to navigate through the people who attended the concert and get to the dance hall. It was pretty crowded and music was already playing. Crowley’s stomach clenched repeatedly and he didn’t think he was ready to confess his feelings to his friend. He looked around helplessly.
“Hey, I’m going to get some drinks for us, okay?” Crowley said and his friend nodded.
In the meantime Crowley repeated the speech in his head, and hoped that he would not mess it up. He was clutching two glasses of juice and tried to go back without spilling them on himself when he noticed that Aziraphale was not alone anymore. That annoying girl who sat beside him was talking to Aziraphale, and touching her hair and giggling and fluttering her fake eyelashes. And Aziraphale had a smile on his face! But then the girl took his hand and dragged him to the dance floor. In Aziraphale’s defence, though, he looked around quite helplessly.
Nevertheless, Crowley was flooded by a disappointment so bitter he couldn’t even move for a good minute. He then put down the glasses and walked out with firm steps, without even looking back. He took his coat from the cloakroom and vanished without anyone noticing him. He texted Anathema, praising her for her brilliant performance, but he couldn’t stay for he had a nasty migraine. Crowley took out his sunglasses from his pocket and walked silently home. Rage boiling in his system, he hissed at the ugliest plant in his room, banished it to the living room and locked the door.
* * * * *
Aziraphale had called him and texted him, but Crowley only answered the next day, giving him the same lame excuse as to Anathema. Aziraphale messaged him that he hoped Crowley would feel better soon. Anathema, however, didn’t give up and phoned him on his home number. His mum, of course, picked it up and told Anathema that Crowley was fine, albeit in a foul mood. Then he had to confess everything.
“Oh, Anthony, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not interested! You yourself said that the girl practically pounced on him. I must tell you, Aziraphale was really worried when you disappeared. He came running to me and that’s when I noticed your message. He didn’t even stay long after that.”
“It doesn’t matter, Anathema. I guess he’s just not into relationships. Who knows, maybe he doesn’t like boys. Or he’s asexual. Whatever. I’ll… I’ll try to think of him just as a friend. He’s a nice guy after all.”
“Please, don’t give up.”
* * * * *
Monday morning was a bit awkward when Crowley had to face Aziraphale. He seemed the same, kind young man and his first question was if Crowley felt better - as Anathema said, he was genuinely concerned. He didn’t even dare look in Aziraphale’s pale blue eyes. How could he? Even his soft voice hurt Crowley, now that he realised that he would never have him. At least he only had to survive one week of school and then maybe he could forget him in the winter break.
Crowley tried to keep his distance and remained quiet most of the time when Aziraphale would join them. He felt his friends’ eyes on him, but he couldn’t look into them, lest all his feelings would be instantly known. Anathema chided him when they were alone, but Crowley gradually slipped into self-pity. They were watching Aziraphale from afar, as he was talking with Mrs. Zhang.
“Now, now, Anthony, don’t look so crestfallen! A crush is not the end of the world!”
“Well, it certainly feels that way!” Crowley exclaimed. “I mean just look at his stupid smile and his beautiful, ssstupid face and I can’t even be upset with him! I hate him for it! He’s just too nice.”
Anathema just sighed and leaned against Crowley.
The last day of school brought joy for most pupils, but Crowley had conflicting feelings. Aziraphale came up to them to wish them happy holidays and hugged Anathema. He was a bit hesitant when he looked at Crowley, but when Crowley extended his hand, Aziraphale hugged him too. Crowley stood there mumbling something that resembled ‘Merry Christmas’. He walked home thinking about that hug with a smile on his face. He really could not stay angry with the blonde. He felt so generous that he even took back the banished plant into his room. Later that day, he got a text from Anathema, inviting him to go skating the next day. He felt like maybe things were looking up.
* * * * *
Crowley and Aziraphale were standing in front of Anathema’s door. Although Anathema didn’t say it explicitly, Crowley had a hunch that it wouldn’t be just the two of them. He rang the doorbell and hoped that Anathema was ready to go. Instead, she appeared in the door with a blanket around her shoulders and was blowing her nose furiously.
“Hello. Haven’t you two received my text?”
“What text?” Crowley asked suspiciously.
“Oh no, you haven’t… I texted you like an hour ago. I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t go. I caught a cold, and I feel like a lemon that’s been squeezed out.”
“I hope you feel better soon, dear,” Aziraphale said. “It would have been nice to go out, but we can always do it later.”
“No, why would you change your plans? You two go and have fun. It will get dark soon and the ice rink looks so lovely with all the fairy lights. Come on, don’t loiter here!” Anathema practically shooed the boys from her door, even though Crowley was giving her the ‘I’ll kill you next time’ glare. He just hoped that Aziraphale was fooled by her trick.
Crowley was walking with hunched-up shoulders, much too aware of the silence that was so difficult to break. He looked at Aziraphale, (well, from his point of view he was actually looking at the top of Aziraphale’s head, covered with that funny hat with reindeers on it), and wondered if it was a good idea for just the two of them to go. But he couldn’t bail out again.
“So, how was your first day of holiday?” Aziraphale asked.
“Nice. I could finally sleep in,” Crowley replied with relief. “Yours?”
Maybe it was some Christmas miracle, but the simple small talk turned into one of their usual conversations. Crowley found it so liberating that he could talk to Aziraphale openly yet again, and not worry about saying something silly. It even started snowing, so by the time they arrived to the ice rink, they were both in high spirits.
Anathema was right as always: the ice rink looked as a scene from a winter fairytale. There was a tall, golden Christmas tree and all around the rink electric blue fairy lights. Laughter and cheerful voices filled the air. Crowley wondered why he hadn’t visited before; it looked so fun! But after he put on his skates and entered the rink, he found out the answer to that question: he couldn’t stay on his feet for more than twenty seconds.
He was cursing under his breath as he flailed wildly with his arms like a nestling that was learning how to fly. Meanwhile, Aziraphale was skating like an expert, with a lot of skill and grace. He could even do pirouettes! Pirouettes! Oh, Anathema would have to pay for this humiliation. He had barely got up when Crowley felt that he would lose his balance again.
However, there was a glove-covered hand clasping his, that saved him from falling on his arse yet again. It was Aziraphale, of course, whose grin was just a tiny bit mocking.
“Don’t stand so rigidly, Crowley. Bend your knees a bit and use the inner edges of your skates. Extend your arms, it will help you with balancing.”
Aziraphale showed him the basics and Crowley practised beside the rink, gripping it from time to time when he felt that he was going to land on his backside. After ten minutes of practice, he managed to glide quite well and he grinned victoriously as he stopped in front of Aziraphale.
“Good job! Let’s go out in the open now.”
“Uhm, no, I’m fine here, but you go and do your pirouettes,” Crowley answered, but he had no time to protest.
Aziraphale took his hand and practically dragged Crowley with him. They were skating leisurely and Crowley felt safe, knowing that Aziraphale was so good at this. His arse was saved from more bruises. The tiny snowflakes were falling lazily over them and it was just too beautiful. Aziraphale seemed to enjoy himself even more with Crowley by his side, though once he pretended to have lost his balance, giving Crowley a minor heart attack and then laughing at his friend’s expression. He could be a right bastard, Crowley ascertained, but he just squeezed his hand tighter.
Feeling a little bold and giddy, Crowley thought he would take over the lead. It went well for about three seconds when suddenly, he slipped and fell down, dragging Aziraphale with him. They whined in pain at first, then laughed at Crowley’s clumsiness.
“You’re a lousy skater, Crowley,” Aziraphale said with a smile, as he was about to get up from his friend’s chest.
“You know, you can call me Anthony,” Crowley said and tugged at the string of Aziraphale’s hat.
He was admiring Aziraphale’s red nose and his sweet rosy cheeks and lovely blue eyes when suddenly, there were two gloved hands cupping his face and stroking his own cold cheeks. Crowley made a high-pitched sound as Aziraphale kissed him, the blonde chuckling as their lips parted. Crowley blinked a few times before he tugged again at the strings on Aziraphale’s hat, bringing him closer for more kisses.
“You know, we should really get up from the ice, Anthony,” Aziraphale whispered, but then he placed a frosty kiss on Crowley’s warm neck, between his jaw and scarf.
“How did you know…? Did she tell you?” Crowley asked, dazzled, and gripped Aziraphale’s hand as he tried to get up.
“Anathema? No. I just hoped that you liked me too, so I took my chance. Although, you know, sometimes the look in your eyes… that was what gave me hope.”
Crowley blushed. Anathema won again; if even Aziraphale noticed his moony eyes… he must have been really obvious. But did the blonde imply that he’d liked him for a while now? He had to find out more.
“How about we go and drink some hot chocolate and you can tell me more about your crush,” Crowley offered with an impish smile.
“Sounds good, but I think you will do most of the talking about your crush.”
Crowley shook his head and laughed. “Okay, lead the way.”
As Aziraphale smiled at him with eyes brighter than the fairy lights, Crowley thought that no, a crush was not the end of the world, but rather the promise of a better one.