Happy Holidays, Gendersquare!
Title: The Four Times Crowley Tried To Kiss Aziraphale And The One Time…
Recipient: gendersquare
Prompt: Aziraphale/Crowley - break my heart. Despite their complicated feelings for each other, circumstances (likely Heaven and/or Hell) come between them. Sex is welcome but not vital.
Rating: T
Pairings: Aziraphale/Crowley (obviously)
Warnings: angst, much drunkenness, implied torture, historical inaccuracy
Author’s Notes: Happy holidays, gendersquare! Surprisingly enough, working on this fic helped me with my bout of depression and anxiety, so thanks for that. I hope this is heart breaking enough for you. Also please bear with me if I made any mistakes of canon or characterization. Enjoy!
I. Rome. Circa 10 BC
“There you are!” Crowley shouted across the busy market, alerting the attention a figure who looked like a man dressed in the finest of robes. “I haven’t seen you in centuries!”
The figure straightened his back and turned, hand on his sword in seconds. His dark skin contrasted with the less dark skin of those around him, but what made him stick out to the demon was his bright blue eyes-even brighter now, lit up in rage as he growled, “Don’t come any closer, demon.”
“Come now, is that any way to treat an old nemesis?” Crowley giggled. If he had drunk a bit too much wine earlier in the day, that was no matter now.
“Don’t think I won’t smite you in the presence of these humans,” Aziraphale threatened in Babylonian.
“Wouldn’t that make quite a show,” Crowley returned easily. Switching back to Latin, he said, “Come now, nemesis, we’ve things to discuss.”
“Do these things involve your death?”
“Of course not,” Crowley snickered.
“Then I want no part of them.” Aziraphale’s face was stone. “Leave me.”
“Fine.” Crowley shrugged and walked away. He’d gotten about ten blocks and entered a quiet, private copse. There was a wooden platform surrounded by a garden. Under this platform, Crowley stored the finest wines and spirits he had collected over the centuries. As he lifted up the trapdoor, he heard a blade sliding out of its sheath.
Crowley turned around to face Aziraphale, the angel’s blue eyes bright as he readied himself to smite the demon.
Crowley frowned. “Come now, you wouldn’t fight a poor, drunk demon would you?”
Aziraphale didn’t respond.
“Come now, Aziraphale, don’t you remember the Garden? You’ve become so unforgiving over the centuries.”
“Perhaps it’s because I’ve seen the cruelty you’re capable of,” Aziraphale replied. His tone was rigid but Crowley had seen the angel waver even for just a second. But then he tightened the grip on his sword. “You killed me the last time you saw me.”
Crowley nodded, his face a picture of false shame. He brightened up immediately though, and added, “That was only because you had a giant sword in my face and I was drunk.”
“…Yes,” Aziraphale conceded. Crowley noticed the sword drop a little lower. “You seem to be drunk often.”
“That’s just because the wine is so good, angel.” That’s when something occurred to the demon. “You have had wine, haven’t you, angel?”
Aziraphale’s hesitation was answer enough.
“Any alcohol of any kind?”
Silence from Aziraphale. The sword was so low now, Aziraphale looked ridiculous even attempting to hold it, like a child who couldn’t pick up his father’s biggest sword.
“Oh, angel, you haven’t lived,” Crowley tried to use dramatic flair, but the alcohol in his system made it a little clumsy and he ended up falling over Aziraphale. This, however put him in the perfect position to push the sword down all the way. As he did so, he realized that their faces were only inches away. In a split second, Crowley had the idea to kiss the angel. Why not, after all? It would be a temptation-of an angel, no less-and especially with the rampant homosexuality displayed by the pagans these days, it would only be another corruption in this world.
Unfortunately, as Crowley leaned in, Aziraphale backed away to sheathe his sword, causing the demon to nearly crumple to the ground.
“I suppose a taste couldn’t hurt. It would be informative to know what these humans are so obsessed over.”
Crowley grinned, and, as he and the angel slowly got more drunk-as the sun set over the horizon-Crowley realized he’d already been tempting the angel slowly over the last few centuries. Aziraphale wouldn’t have joined him for a drink two centuries back.
As more and more centuries passed, Crowley managed to soften up the angel even further. But it went both ways. Crowley’s temptations, though increasing in cleverness, were also decreasing in violence and aggression.
And at least once every decade, the demon and the angel would happen to meet up and drink the latest drinks of the century. After one of these decades-sometime around 1021-they both decided, why not see each other on purpose? Help each other out? Not that they hadn’t already been doing this often, but why not voice it-make it official.
Later, they would call it an Arrangement.
II. England. May 10, 1945
“Everyone on the British Isles is celebrating…and then there’s you.”
Crowley jogged to catch up with Aziraphale, whom he had spotted walking down a random alley in London. Aziraphale spared the smallest of glances towards Crowley and made a small, unhappy sound. If it weren’t for the natural quiet that spread like a blanket over the night, Crowley might not have heard it.
“The war’s over, angel! England and the Allies prevail!” Crowley spread his hands wide, mocking the newscasters that had been broadcasting for the past three days.
“Yes, and how long will it be till the next one?” Aziraphale sighed, his breath visible in the still-chilly May air. “They never end, the wars.”
“You’re just figuring this out now?” Crowley laughed. “How long have you been on this earth, Aziraphale?”
“But shouldn’t things ultimately be getting better? The things I saw-those…death camps, they were the most horrid thing I’ve ever seen. Shouldn’t the Lord’s presence be spreading, increasing good in the world?”
Crowley laughed again, but this time with a lot less malice. When he spoke, his voice was gentler. “Angel, you should know by now that good and bad isn’t as simple as it seems on the outside.”
Crowley instantly regretted his words, when Aziraphale’s delicate features suddenly contorted into a mixture of anguish, regret, and disappointment
“Is it really so complex, though, or are we just trying to make it that way because we’re no longer enemies?” Aziraphale tried to back away but Crowley followed him, lightly grabbing his arm.
“The fact that you can even say that sentence proves that I’m right,” Crowley pointed out. “A demon can’t be friends with an angel unless the demon has got a bit of good and angel can’t be friends with a demon unless the angel has got a bit of bad.”
Aziraphale frowned at that. “And yet somehow, I feel like things are going to go horribly wrong if this…friendship goes too far.”
Crowley knew why Aziraphale hesitated in the same way that he knew why Aziraphale hadn’t mentioned the fact that Crowley’s hand was still on his arm. The angel’s blue eyes shone bright in the moonlight, contrasting beautifully with his dark skin. It was like two stars, shining bright in the night sky, and Crowley had never appreciated the sky more than this moment. Suddenly the human heart inside Crowley began to beat rapidly. He swallowed. He shouldn’t say it, he shouldn’t say it, he shouldn’t-
“But things could go horribly right.” Aaaaaand he said it.
Aziraphale’s mouth curved into the smallest of smiles. He looked like he was about to respond but suddenly there was a loud BOOM as a firework went off, and both lifted their heads to the sky. Crowley was the first to look down-he only cared about two stars that night, and they weren’t in the sky. Everything about the angel, really, was just so beautiful in that moment. Crowley realized for the first time that this feeling that he couldn’t-wouldn’t-name was only going to get stronger. And in that moment he wanted more than anything to kiss Aziraphale.
He almost did, too. But the firework went out and Aziraphale looked back down and Crowley’s courage left him like a fog swept away by a fan.
Not today, he thought, but someday…
III. England. January 1st, 1958.
This was the day. This would be the day. It had been more than ten years since Crowley realized how much he cared for Aziraphale. Ten years of staring at Aziraphale in awe of his beauty. Ten years of missed chances to admit how he felt. Ten years of holding this inside, fearing the angel’s response. It was all going to be over now.
Crowley slammed open the door to the bookstore, back straight, golden eyes bright with confidence. He was going to swoop in, kiss Aziraphale’s stupid adorable face, and get it all out there. He noticed that the lights were off in the front section but that was no matter. What did an ethereal being need lights for?
“Aziraphale!” Crowley called. “There’s something I wanted to-“
Crowley spotted a scroll of paper on the desk. Confidence and resolve aside, Crowley couldn’t let go of his curiosity. He attempted to pick up the paper but it immediately burned him. A message from Heaven. Everything went out the window at that moment as this new development took up the forefront of Crowley’s mind.
Taking a pen and handkerchief out of his pocket, Crowley delicately unfurled the scroll and began to read.
Aziraphale,
Blessings from Above! We have been observing you these past years. We approve of the many works that you have done for the Lord Almighty as of late, though we have found reasons for concern. We have noticed your recent associations with a demon. While we hope that you are attempting to thwart his wiles on the Earth by keeping him close to you, we would like to warn you against the temptations given to you by our enemies-you must not forget this, they are your enemies-as such association can and have lead to, shall we say, fornications which are under no circumstances tolerated and will result in your defection from our ranks. After all, if you wish to associate with demons, why not become one?
With the never-ending love from the Lord God Almighty (may he ever reign),
Archangel Michael
Crowley suddenly felt nauseous and he didn’t think it had to do with being near something so holy.
Holy.
As if you could even call it that, after reading a letter such as this. But he-Crowley-was the cause of letter. He was the one putting Aziraphale at risk of defection.
A rustling from the back room made Crowley jump, nearly burning himself on the paper again. Suddenly Crowley had an irresistible need to get out, fast. Aziraphale could never know how he felt. Not if Crowley actually cared. Because letting Aziraphale know now, Crowley realized, meant immediate defection-a Fall. Thinking of Aziraphale’s blue eyes turned red or yellow or black, his delicate features twisted, his true form distorted into something it wasn’t…thinking of that fueled Crowley to run-no, sprint-out of that bookstore.
He didn’t see Aziraphale for another three years after that, and when they eventually did meet up again, neither of them spoke of the letter from Above and they both went on as if Crowley hadn’t been inexplicably missing for years.
IV. England. November 31st, 1990
It had been months since the world almost ended, and Aziraphale and Crowley were in the backroom of the bookstore drinking comfortably. It had seemed to Crowley that everything had blown over. They weren’t going to get punished any time soon. A weird little kid saved the planet somehow and humanity prevails.
In this realization of comfort and contentment, Crowley saw Aziraphale’s dark hand suddenly brush against his own. The feelings that he’d had since that day in 1945 resurfaced. Not that they had been gone. They’d always been riling in the back of Crowley’s mind like a lazy whirlpool but he kept them suppressed, sealed up to never be opened. Occasionally a drop would leak and Crowley wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about how Aziraphale was so beautiful, so caring, yet still a bit of a bastard and Crowley loved every bit of it. But then he had to tighten the seal, keep in locked away, never to be thought of again because of the risk.
But now there was no risk. They were safe, and that was the end of it. Crowley could express whatever he wanted to Aziraphale, and everything would be fine.
Crowley’s heart started racing as he turned to Aziraphale. The angel looked confused as Crowley went from relaxed to high-strung in less than a second.
“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, grasping the angel’s hand. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for-for decades now, but I couldn’t. Do you remember that day in 1945? A few days after the Allies won the second war?”
“Of course I do, dear,” Aziraphale said. He suddenly didn’t look as content as he was before but Crowley couldn’t stop now, when he’d already started.
“And what you said you felt in Tadfield-do you remember? The feeling that that was over the entire town?”
“My dear-“
“You said I wouldn’t understand, but you were wrong. I do understand, angel. I understand love in ways you couldn’t imagine. And you taught it to me. That day in 1945, that’s when I realized that I didn’t just understand it, I felt it.” Crowley paused as he realized he didn’t know how else to end this speech. “For you.”
There were tears in Aziraphale’s eyes. “I just wish you would have told me sooner, dear.”
“Well, there was that letter from Above and I-“ Crowley interrupted himself. “But that doesn’t matter now because we’re free. The kid’s gotten everything sorted out. And I can tell you I love you.”
Aziraphale nodded. He looked sad, but he reached out to touch Crowley gently on the cheek. “I love you too, dear. I have for quite a while.”
Crowley grinned. He leaned forward planning to kiss Aziraphale-
SLAM! Crowley jumped back as the door opened to reveal the Antichrist himself, looking embarrassed. “Sorry Mister Fell. Thought the door was jammed like the day ‘afore.”
“That’s alright, dear boy,” Aziraphale said, standing up. “I’m afraid you came at a bad time though.”
Adam seemed to notice Crowley sitting on the couch, frozen with his eyes wide. “Oh, ‘ello Mister Crowley. Good t’ see you again. I’ll just be headed off then.”
“Right, I’ll see you tomorrow instead,” Aziraphale said with a polite smile.
“Yessir, Mister Fell,” Adam said with a salute before he left as quickly as he entered.
“You should probably be off then, too dear. We’ve got some things to think about,” Aziraphale said.
“Yes we do,” Crowley said. His mind was distracted now though. Too many things to think about at once.
Aziraphale suddenly stepped forward and kissed Crowley on his cheek. “Good night, dear.”
Crowley grinned. He grinned all the way back to his apartment. He loved Aziraphale and Aziraphale loved him back. Things were pretty great.
V. February 14th, 2000 (Az has been demon since #4, just now telling crow)
If there’s one thing throughout all the centuries of his life that Crowley regretted, it was leaving that bookstore ten years previously. Crowley had thought things were good, and yet there had been something…off. If he hadn’t been so distracted, then maybe he would have noticed.
After that day, Crowley had returned to the bookstore, hyper as a five year old on a sugar high but keeping it in check. When he got to the door, however, it was locked. As in, supernaturally locked. Crowley tried it again and again but the door refused to budge. Looking around, there didn’t seem to be anyone inside anyway. Crowley remembered Adam saying it had been jammed and Aziraphale was probably out anyway, so Crowley just shrugged it off.
This happened nearly every day for five years.
Crowley started off mildly disturbed. Then angry. Around year two he started crying, a horribly human habit. On year three he gave up, until one day he got drunk and went to the bookstore out of habit, and got angry again. Year four, he tried to burn the door (it didn’t work). By the end of year five, he cut his losses and decided to just sleep. After all, if Aziraphale didn’t want to see him, there wasn’t any point was there? What good was it to enjoy the not-completely-destroyed planet if there wasn’t anyone to share it with? Besides, when he was sleeping, the agonizing feeling of dread and worry wasn’t noticeable.
So Crowley went to sleep with no plans on waking up anytime soon. Unfortunately for him, not everyone was in agreement with this plan.
Crowley didn’t notice the figure that walked through his bedroom. He didn’t notice the figure sitting on the edge of his bed, nor when it pulled down the sheets and observed his shirtless torso. He did notice when the figure stroked his cheek and whispered lovingly, “Wake up, my dear.”
Crowley slid one eye open. The first thing he saw was bright piercing blue eyes. His first thought was Something’s wrong with them.
“’Zirph’le?” All memory of the five years prior to his extended nap was fuzzy and faded. Crowley still wasn’t sure why he’d been asleep. All he knew was that Aziraphale was near him.
“Good morning, dear,” Azirpahale whispered. His dark features were twisted in a way that Crowley interpreted as sadness. Crowley couldn’t have his angel like this.
“Cheer up, angel. The world hasn’t ended,” Crowley mumbled with a grin. For some reason, this caused tears to well up in Aziraphale’s eyes.
In that moment, Crowley remembered the reason he’d fallen asleep in the first place. He sat up immediately. “Where have you been, Aziraphale? Did you accidentally lock yourself in the store? Did Up There take you away? Did you forget-“ Crowley choked on the words that almost came out of his mouth. He wouldn’t admit that he thought Aziraphale had forgotten that night they’d confessed their love for one another.
Aziraphale shook his head. “Please don’t ask, dear. I’m here now, that’s all that matters.”
Crowley wanted to protest, but he gave up. Aziraphale was right. At least he was here-hopefully for a very long time. The demon held out his had to cup Aziraphale’s cheek and nodded. “I missed you, angel.”
Aziraphale leaned into the touch as a leftover tear rolled down his other cheek. “I love you, Crowley.”
“I love you, too, angel,” Crowley said with a grin. He leaned forward, hoping. This was finally be the moment he’d been hoping for so many years ago.
It was everything he’d dreamed of.
Aziraphale’s lips were soft on his. The warmth radiating from the angel’s body felt good on Crowley’s bare chest when compared to the coolness of the room. One kiss wasn’t enough, either. Crowley kissed Aziraphale again and again as the angel ran his hands over the demon’s body, exploring every inch like he was committing it to memory. Occasionally he would moan softly, adding fuel to the fire of Crowley’s desire.
Before he knew it, Crowley was being pushed back down to the bed, the blankets falling away as Aziraphale’s hands continued to explore. And then Aziraphale took over the kissing. His kisses were more heated that Crowley had imagined. In fact, everything Aziraphale was doing was more passionate and lust-filled that Crowley had-
Crowley froze at the thought. Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind, and instead started kissing down Crowley’s chin, towards his neck. No, this was definitely wrong. Aziraphale wasn’t supposed to be like this. The quiet, gentle bookworm-though at times a manipulative bastard-wasn’t lust filled, mostly due to the fact that he was an angel very much afraid of falling.
As Aziraphale’s lips trailed lower, Crowley immediately attempted to flip the angel over. In any other circumstance, this would have worked with absolutely no resistance. This time, however, the angel retaliated. Almost as a reflex, Aziraphale used the momentum of Crowley pushing him to flip over, and drag Crowley with him until the demon was pinned to the wall.
The motion of doing so must have triggered something, though, because suddenly all façade wore off and Crowley was looking at an entirely different creature. Blue eyes had turned dark red, burning with anger. Perfectly manicured nails were suddenly black talons. Dark, delicate features were now rough, intimidating, and scarred. This was the true form of a demon.
Before Crowley could react, the new demon suddenly gasped. The anger in its eyes melted into shock. Suddenly it shuddered, and the hideous form was once again hidden under the guise of a familiar angel.
“I’m sorry about that, dear.”
The creature let him go but Crowley was frozen as his mind raced through the possibilities. This had to be someone else, yet there was no demon Below that could possibly imitate Aziraphale as perfectly as this demon had. None of them were gentle enough. And then Crowley thought back to the moves this demon had used to pin him against the wall. They were familiar, the type used to train the new recruits. And then Crowley remembered the letter from Above all those years ago.
“You Fell.” It was a statement with no emotion and no inflection.
“Yes dear,” Aziraphale said quietly.
“When?”
“A few days after That Day.” Crowley didn’t have to ask which one.
“But the boy-“
“He was too late to stop them. He’s been doing the best he can to keep me from looking…that way, but there’s not a way to reverse a Fall. Even for an Antichrist.”
“I don’t believe this,” Crowley breathed. He ran a hand down his face, trying to keep his emotions in check. So Aziraphale was a demon. No need to have a panic attack, right?
“I was difficult for me to accept too,” Aziraphale said with a nod. “I got a letter from Above, and a few weeks later, physical changes occurred. That was when I went to Adam. The boy was so helpful.”
“And then you decided to lock me out?”
Aziraphale shook his head. “That’s when they sent me Below for training.”
Crowley raised an eyebrow. He knew the timing wasn’t a coincidence. “They’ve got organized training schedules now?”
“Yes, it’s all bureaucracy now,” Aziraphale said. Then he winced. “For the most part.”
Suddenly, Crowley knew why Aziraphale’s eyes looked off. It wasn’t because of the disguise Adam had put on the angel. You can’t disguise a broken, beaten soul. His voice broke when he asked, “What did they do to you, angel?”
The agony radiating from Aziraphale’s eyes was enough of an answer. The former angel stood for a moment in silence until, almost suddenly, he blinked and returned to his cheery self. “You need a new nickname for me, dear.”
Crowley shook his head fiercely and cupped Aziraphale’s face. “You’re still my angel. This goes against everything you are. I can’t believe those bastards did this to you.”
Aziraphale rested a hand on Crowley’s chest. “It’s done now, and I’ve accepted it.”
Crowley ran his thumb down Aziraphale’s cheek, thinking. After a moment, he asked, “Can I see your true form again?”
Aziraphale winced but then he nodded. After a moment, he shivered, and then the illusion wavered before falling away entirely. Crowley tried not to cower back as his angel changed before his eyes. He tried to accept that this was the new form he’d be seeing from now on. Even if Aziraphale looked different-even if he’d gone (quite literally) through Hell and back-he was still the Aziraphale Crowley knew and loved. Crowley leaned forward and kissed the scarred lips. When he pulled back, there were tears in Aziraphale’s eyes.
After that, they continued as they would have any normal day. Crowley broke out some wine and they watched a James Bond movie. If Crowley had to jump the first few times he looked over and found his angel looking less angelic than usual, that was alright. After all, he’d have to get used to it eventually, whether he wanted to or not.
The movie hadn’t finished, however, before Aziraphale started shaking. Crowley sat up, dispelling the alcohol from his system.
“Angel-“
“I’m not an angel!” Aziraphale snapped, eyes aflame. Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry dear, I should have told you.”
“Why you’re suddenly rude to me? I was a young demon once, too, you know.”
Aziraphale shook his head fiercely. “How I got permission to come to Earth.”
Crowley froze. He hadn’t thought about it before and now he was concerned. “Angel, please don’t tell me you made a deal.”
“They said I could work by your side and I could see you for a day…” Aziraphale explained. He shook as another spasm hit his system.
“And the catch was…?”
“We would be partners for eternity.” Another spasm.
“And?”
“And I would have my memory wiped.”
Crowley’s jaw dropped. His whole body felt numb. So this was how they’d kill two birds with one stone. Double Hell’s effect on the world while also managing to punish Crowley for what happened in Tadfield. It was genius, probably inspired by his modern ways of evil. Crowley was getting a tast of his own medicine in the worst way possible and Aziraphale was suffering because of it.
Suddenly, Aziraphale’s spasms intensified and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Crowley leaned over, only able to wait until the spasms finally subsided. When they did, Crowley began shaking Aziraphale awake-gently at first, then progressively more rough until Aziraphale’s eyes slowly opened.
“Jesus, angel, are you alright?”
“Why are you calling me an angel?” Aziraphale asked. It wasn’t as angry as the time before.
“We’ve gone over this, Aziraphale,” Crowley sighed.
“Am I Aziraphale? Is that my name?”
Crowley didn’t respond. He couldn’t.
“Are you my mentor?”
“…Yes.”
Recipient: gendersquare
Prompt: Aziraphale/Crowley - break my heart. Despite their complicated feelings for each other, circumstances (likely Heaven and/or Hell) come between them. Sex is welcome but not vital.
Rating: T
Pairings: Aziraphale/Crowley (obviously)
Warnings: angst, much drunkenness, implied torture, historical inaccuracy
Author’s Notes: Happy holidays, gendersquare! Surprisingly enough, working on this fic helped me with my bout of depression and anxiety, so thanks for that. I hope this is heart breaking enough for you. Also please bear with me if I made any mistakes of canon or characterization. Enjoy!
I. Rome. Circa 10 BC
“There you are!” Crowley shouted across the busy market, alerting the attention a figure who looked like a man dressed in the finest of robes. “I haven’t seen you in centuries!”
The figure straightened his back and turned, hand on his sword in seconds. His dark skin contrasted with the less dark skin of those around him, but what made him stick out to the demon was his bright blue eyes-even brighter now, lit up in rage as he growled, “Don’t come any closer, demon.”
“Come now, is that any way to treat an old nemesis?” Crowley giggled. If he had drunk a bit too much wine earlier in the day, that was no matter now.
“Don’t think I won’t smite you in the presence of these humans,” Aziraphale threatened in Babylonian.
“Wouldn’t that make quite a show,” Crowley returned easily. Switching back to Latin, he said, “Come now, nemesis, we’ve things to discuss.”
“Do these things involve your death?”
“Of course not,” Crowley snickered.
“Then I want no part of them.” Aziraphale’s face was stone. “Leave me.”
“Fine.” Crowley shrugged and walked away. He’d gotten about ten blocks and entered a quiet, private copse. There was a wooden platform surrounded by a garden. Under this platform, Crowley stored the finest wines and spirits he had collected over the centuries. As he lifted up the trapdoor, he heard a blade sliding out of its sheath.
Crowley turned around to face Aziraphale, the angel’s blue eyes bright as he readied himself to smite the demon.
Crowley frowned. “Come now, you wouldn’t fight a poor, drunk demon would you?”
Aziraphale didn’t respond.
“Come now, Aziraphale, don’t you remember the Garden? You’ve become so unforgiving over the centuries.”
“Perhaps it’s because I’ve seen the cruelty you’re capable of,” Aziraphale replied. His tone was rigid but Crowley had seen the angel waver even for just a second. But then he tightened the grip on his sword. “You killed me the last time you saw me.”
Crowley nodded, his face a picture of false shame. He brightened up immediately though, and added, “That was only because you had a giant sword in my face and I was drunk.”
“…Yes,” Aziraphale conceded. Crowley noticed the sword drop a little lower. “You seem to be drunk often.”
“That’s just because the wine is so good, angel.” That’s when something occurred to the demon. “You have had wine, haven’t you, angel?”
Aziraphale’s hesitation was answer enough.
“Any alcohol of any kind?”
Silence from Aziraphale. The sword was so low now, Aziraphale looked ridiculous even attempting to hold it, like a child who couldn’t pick up his father’s biggest sword.
“Oh, angel, you haven’t lived,” Crowley tried to use dramatic flair, but the alcohol in his system made it a little clumsy and he ended up falling over Aziraphale. This, however put him in the perfect position to push the sword down all the way. As he did so, he realized that their faces were only inches away. In a split second, Crowley had the idea to kiss the angel. Why not, after all? It would be a temptation-of an angel, no less-and especially with the rampant homosexuality displayed by the pagans these days, it would only be another corruption in this world.
Unfortunately, as Crowley leaned in, Aziraphale backed away to sheathe his sword, causing the demon to nearly crumple to the ground.
“I suppose a taste couldn’t hurt. It would be informative to know what these humans are so obsessed over.”
Crowley grinned, and, as he and the angel slowly got more drunk-as the sun set over the horizon-Crowley realized he’d already been tempting the angel slowly over the last few centuries. Aziraphale wouldn’t have joined him for a drink two centuries back.
As more and more centuries passed, Crowley managed to soften up the angel even further. But it went both ways. Crowley’s temptations, though increasing in cleverness, were also decreasing in violence and aggression.
And at least once every decade, the demon and the angel would happen to meet up and drink the latest drinks of the century. After one of these decades-sometime around 1021-they both decided, why not see each other on purpose? Help each other out? Not that they hadn’t already been doing this often, but why not voice it-make it official.
Later, they would call it an Arrangement.
II. England. May 10, 1945
“Everyone on the British Isles is celebrating…and then there’s you.”
Crowley jogged to catch up with Aziraphale, whom he had spotted walking down a random alley in London. Aziraphale spared the smallest of glances towards Crowley and made a small, unhappy sound. If it weren’t for the natural quiet that spread like a blanket over the night, Crowley might not have heard it.
“The war’s over, angel! England and the Allies prevail!” Crowley spread his hands wide, mocking the newscasters that had been broadcasting for the past three days.
“Yes, and how long will it be till the next one?” Aziraphale sighed, his breath visible in the still-chilly May air. “They never end, the wars.”
“You’re just figuring this out now?” Crowley laughed. “How long have you been on this earth, Aziraphale?”
“But shouldn’t things ultimately be getting better? The things I saw-those…death camps, they were the most horrid thing I’ve ever seen. Shouldn’t the Lord’s presence be spreading, increasing good in the world?”
Crowley laughed again, but this time with a lot less malice. When he spoke, his voice was gentler. “Angel, you should know by now that good and bad isn’t as simple as it seems on the outside.”
Crowley instantly regretted his words, when Aziraphale’s delicate features suddenly contorted into a mixture of anguish, regret, and disappointment
“Is it really so complex, though, or are we just trying to make it that way because we’re no longer enemies?” Aziraphale tried to back away but Crowley followed him, lightly grabbing his arm.
“The fact that you can even say that sentence proves that I’m right,” Crowley pointed out. “A demon can’t be friends with an angel unless the demon has got a bit of good and angel can’t be friends with a demon unless the angel has got a bit of bad.”
Aziraphale frowned at that. “And yet somehow, I feel like things are going to go horribly wrong if this…friendship goes too far.”
Crowley knew why Aziraphale hesitated in the same way that he knew why Aziraphale hadn’t mentioned the fact that Crowley’s hand was still on his arm. The angel’s blue eyes shone bright in the moonlight, contrasting beautifully with his dark skin. It was like two stars, shining bright in the night sky, and Crowley had never appreciated the sky more than this moment. Suddenly the human heart inside Crowley began to beat rapidly. He swallowed. He shouldn’t say it, he shouldn’t say it, he shouldn’t-
“But things could go horribly right.” Aaaaaand he said it.
Aziraphale’s mouth curved into the smallest of smiles. He looked like he was about to respond but suddenly there was a loud BOOM as a firework went off, and both lifted their heads to the sky. Crowley was the first to look down-he only cared about two stars that night, and they weren’t in the sky. Everything about the angel, really, was just so beautiful in that moment. Crowley realized for the first time that this feeling that he couldn’t-wouldn’t-name was only going to get stronger. And in that moment he wanted more than anything to kiss Aziraphale.
He almost did, too. But the firework went out and Aziraphale looked back down and Crowley’s courage left him like a fog swept away by a fan.
Not today, he thought, but someday…
III. England. January 1st, 1958.
This was the day. This would be the day. It had been more than ten years since Crowley realized how much he cared for Aziraphale. Ten years of staring at Aziraphale in awe of his beauty. Ten years of missed chances to admit how he felt. Ten years of holding this inside, fearing the angel’s response. It was all going to be over now.
Crowley slammed open the door to the bookstore, back straight, golden eyes bright with confidence. He was going to swoop in, kiss Aziraphale’s stupid adorable face, and get it all out there. He noticed that the lights were off in the front section but that was no matter. What did an ethereal being need lights for?
“Aziraphale!” Crowley called. “There’s something I wanted to-“
Crowley spotted a scroll of paper on the desk. Confidence and resolve aside, Crowley couldn’t let go of his curiosity. He attempted to pick up the paper but it immediately burned him. A message from Heaven. Everything went out the window at that moment as this new development took up the forefront of Crowley’s mind.
Taking a pen and handkerchief out of his pocket, Crowley delicately unfurled the scroll and began to read.
Aziraphale,
Blessings from Above! We have been observing you these past years. We approve of the many works that you have done for the Lord Almighty as of late, though we have found reasons for concern. We have noticed your recent associations with a demon. While we hope that you are attempting to thwart his wiles on the Earth by keeping him close to you, we would like to warn you against the temptations given to you by our enemies-you must not forget this, they are your enemies-as such association can and have lead to, shall we say, fornications which are under no circumstances tolerated and will result in your defection from our ranks. After all, if you wish to associate with demons, why not become one?
With the never-ending love from the Lord God Almighty (may he ever reign),
Archangel Michael
Crowley suddenly felt nauseous and he didn’t think it had to do with being near something so holy.
Holy.
As if you could even call it that, after reading a letter such as this. But he-Crowley-was the cause of letter. He was the one putting Aziraphale at risk of defection.
A rustling from the back room made Crowley jump, nearly burning himself on the paper again. Suddenly Crowley had an irresistible need to get out, fast. Aziraphale could never know how he felt. Not if Crowley actually cared. Because letting Aziraphale know now, Crowley realized, meant immediate defection-a Fall. Thinking of Aziraphale’s blue eyes turned red or yellow or black, his delicate features twisted, his true form distorted into something it wasn’t…thinking of that fueled Crowley to run-no, sprint-out of that bookstore.
He didn’t see Aziraphale for another three years after that, and when they eventually did meet up again, neither of them spoke of the letter from Above and they both went on as if Crowley hadn’t been inexplicably missing for years.
IV. England. November 31st, 1990
It had been months since the world almost ended, and Aziraphale and Crowley were in the backroom of the bookstore drinking comfortably. It had seemed to Crowley that everything had blown over. They weren’t going to get punished any time soon. A weird little kid saved the planet somehow and humanity prevails.
In this realization of comfort and contentment, Crowley saw Aziraphale’s dark hand suddenly brush against his own. The feelings that he’d had since that day in 1945 resurfaced. Not that they had been gone. They’d always been riling in the back of Crowley’s mind like a lazy whirlpool but he kept them suppressed, sealed up to never be opened. Occasionally a drop would leak and Crowley wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about how Aziraphale was so beautiful, so caring, yet still a bit of a bastard and Crowley loved every bit of it. But then he had to tighten the seal, keep in locked away, never to be thought of again because of the risk.
But now there was no risk. They were safe, and that was the end of it. Crowley could express whatever he wanted to Aziraphale, and everything would be fine.
Crowley’s heart started racing as he turned to Aziraphale. The angel looked confused as Crowley went from relaxed to high-strung in less than a second.
“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, grasping the angel’s hand. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for-for decades now, but I couldn’t. Do you remember that day in 1945? A few days after the Allies won the second war?”
“Of course I do, dear,” Aziraphale said. He suddenly didn’t look as content as he was before but Crowley couldn’t stop now, when he’d already started.
“And what you said you felt in Tadfield-do you remember? The feeling that that was over the entire town?”
“My dear-“
“You said I wouldn’t understand, but you were wrong. I do understand, angel. I understand love in ways you couldn’t imagine. And you taught it to me. That day in 1945, that’s when I realized that I didn’t just understand it, I felt it.” Crowley paused as he realized he didn’t know how else to end this speech. “For you.”
There were tears in Aziraphale’s eyes. “I just wish you would have told me sooner, dear.”
“Well, there was that letter from Above and I-“ Crowley interrupted himself. “But that doesn’t matter now because we’re free. The kid’s gotten everything sorted out. And I can tell you I love you.”
Aziraphale nodded. He looked sad, but he reached out to touch Crowley gently on the cheek. “I love you too, dear. I have for quite a while.”
Crowley grinned. He leaned forward planning to kiss Aziraphale-
SLAM! Crowley jumped back as the door opened to reveal the Antichrist himself, looking embarrassed. “Sorry Mister Fell. Thought the door was jammed like the day ‘afore.”
“That’s alright, dear boy,” Aziraphale said, standing up. “I’m afraid you came at a bad time though.”
Adam seemed to notice Crowley sitting on the couch, frozen with his eyes wide. “Oh, ‘ello Mister Crowley. Good t’ see you again. I’ll just be headed off then.”
“Right, I’ll see you tomorrow instead,” Aziraphale said with a polite smile.
“Yessir, Mister Fell,” Adam said with a salute before he left as quickly as he entered.
“You should probably be off then, too dear. We’ve got some things to think about,” Aziraphale said.
“Yes we do,” Crowley said. His mind was distracted now though. Too many things to think about at once.
Aziraphale suddenly stepped forward and kissed Crowley on his cheek. “Good night, dear.”
Crowley grinned. He grinned all the way back to his apartment. He loved Aziraphale and Aziraphale loved him back. Things were pretty great.
V. February 14th, 2000 (Az has been demon since #4, just now telling crow)
If there’s one thing throughout all the centuries of his life that Crowley regretted, it was leaving that bookstore ten years previously. Crowley had thought things were good, and yet there had been something…off. If he hadn’t been so distracted, then maybe he would have noticed.
After that day, Crowley had returned to the bookstore, hyper as a five year old on a sugar high but keeping it in check. When he got to the door, however, it was locked. As in, supernaturally locked. Crowley tried it again and again but the door refused to budge. Looking around, there didn’t seem to be anyone inside anyway. Crowley remembered Adam saying it had been jammed and Aziraphale was probably out anyway, so Crowley just shrugged it off.
This happened nearly every day for five years.
Crowley started off mildly disturbed. Then angry. Around year two he started crying, a horribly human habit. On year three he gave up, until one day he got drunk and went to the bookstore out of habit, and got angry again. Year four, he tried to burn the door (it didn’t work). By the end of year five, he cut his losses and decided to just sleep. After all, if Aziraphale didn’t want to see him, there wasn’t any point was there? What good was it to enjoy the not-completely-destroyed planet if there wasn’t anyone to share it with? Besides, when he was sleeping, the agonizing feeling of dread and worry wasn’t noticeable.
So Crowley went to sleep with no plans on waking up anytime soon. Unfortunately for him, not everyone was in agreement with this plan.
Crowley didn’t notice the figure that walked through his bedroom. He didn’t notice the figure sitting on the edge of his bed, nor when it pulled down the sheets and observed his shirtless torso. He did notice when the figure stroked his cheek and whispered lovingly, “Wake up, my dear.”
Crowley slid one eye open. The first thing he saw was bright piercing blue eyes. His first thought was Something’s wrong with them.
“’Zirph’le?” All memory of the five years prior to his extended nap was fuzzy and faded. Crowley still wasn’t sure why he’d been asleep. All he knew was that Aziraphale was near him.
“Good morning, dear,” Azirpahale whispered. His dark features were twisted in a way that Crowley interpreted as sadness. Crowley couldn’t have his angel like this.
“Cheer up, angel. The world hasn’t ended,” Crowley mumbled with a grin. For some reason, this caused tears to well up in Aziraphale’s eyes.
In that moment, Crowley remembered the reason he’d fallen asleep in the first place. He sat up immediately. “Where have you been, Aziraphale? Did you accidentally lock yourself in the store? Did Up There take you away? Did you forget-“ Crowley choked on the words that almost came out of his mouth. He wouldn’t admit that he thought Aziraphale had forgotten that night they’d confessed their love for one another.
Aziraphale shook his head. “Please don’t ask, dear. I’m here now, that’s all that matters.”
Crowley wanted to protest, but he gave up. Aziraphale was right. At least he was here-hopefully for a very long time. The demon held out his had to cup Aziraphale’s cheek and nodded. “I missed you, angel.”
Aziraphale leaned into the touch as a leftover tear rolled down his other cheek. “I love you, Crowley.”
“I love you, too, angel,” Crowley said with a grin. He leaned forward, hoping. This was finally be the moment he’d been hoping for so many years ago.
It was everything he’d dreamed of.
Aziraphale’s lips were soft on his. The warmth radiating from the angel’s body felt good on Crowley’s bare chest when compared to the coolness of the room. One kiss wasn’t enough, either. Crowley kissed Aziraphale again and again as the angel ran his hands over the demon’s body, exploring every inch like he was committing it to memory. Occasionally he would moan softly, adding fuel to the fire of Crowley’s desire.
Before he knew it, Crowley was being pushed back down to the bed, the blankets falling away as Aziraphale’s hands continued to explore. And then Aziraphale took over the kissing. His kisses were more heated that Crowley had imagined. In fact, everything Aziraphale was doing was more passionate and lust-filled that Crowley had-
Crowley froze at the thought. Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind, and instead started kissing down Crowley’s chin, towards his neck. No, this was definitely wrong. Aziraphale wasn’t supposed to be like this. The quiet, gentle bookworm-though at times a manipulative bastard-wasn’t lust filled, mostly due to the fact that he was an angel very much afraid of falling.
As Aziraphale’s lips trailed lower, Crowley immediately attempted to flip the angel over. In any other circumstance, this would have worked with absolutely no resistance. This time, however, the angel retaliated. Almost as a reflex, Aziraphale used the momentum of Crowley pushing him to flip over, and drag Crowley with him until the demon was pinned to the wall.
The motion of doing so must have triggered something, though, because suddenly all façade wore off and Crowley was looking at an entirely different creature. Blue eyes had turned dark red, burning with anger. Perfectly manicured nails were suddenly black talons. Dark, delicate features were now rough, intimidating, and scarred. This was the true form of a demon.
Before Crowley could react, the new demon suddenly gasped. The anger in its eyes melted into shock. Suddenly it shuddered, and the hideous form was once again hidden under the guise of a familiar angel.
“I’m sorry about that, dear.”
The creature let him go but Crowley was frozen as his mind raced through the possibilities. This had to be someone else, yet there was no demon Below that could possibly imitate Aziraphale as perfectly as this demon had. None of them were gentle enough. And then Crowley thought back to the moves this demon had used to pin him against the wall. They were familiar, the type used to train the new recruits. And then Crowley remembered the letter from Above all those years ago.
“You Fell.” It was a statement with no emotion and no inflection.
“Yes dear,” Aziraphale said quietly.
“When?”
“A few days after That Day.” Crowley didn’t have to ask which one.
“But the boy-“
“He was too late to stop them. He’s been doing the best he can to keep me from looking…that way, but there’s not a way to reverse a Fall. Even for an Antichrist.”
“I don’t believe this,” Crowley breathed. He ran a hand down his face, trying to keep his emotions in check. So Aziraphale was a demon. No need to have a panic attack, right?
“I was difficult for me to accept too,” Aziraphale said with a nod. “I got a letter from Above, and a few weeks later, physical changes occurred. That was when I went to Adam. The boy was so helpful.”
“And then you decided to lock me out?”
Aziraphale shook his head. “That’s when they sent me Below for training.”
Crowley raised an eyebrow. He knew the timing wasn’t a coincidence. “They’ve got organized training schedules now?”
“Yes, it’s all bureaucracy now,” Aziraphale said. Then he winced. “For the most part.”
Suddenly, Crowley knew why Aziraphale’s eyes looked off. It wasn’t because of the disguise Adam had put on the angel. You can’t disguise a broken, beaten soul. His voice broke when he asked, “What did they do to you, angel?”
The agony radiating from Aziraphale’s eyes was enough of an answer. The former angel stood for a moment in silence until, almost suddenly, he blinked and returned to his cheery self. “You need a new nickname for me, dear.”
Crowley shook his head fiercely and cupped Aziraphale’s face. “You’re still my angel. This goes against everything you are. I can’t believe those bastards did this to you.”
Aziraphale rested a hand on Crowley’s chest. “It’s done now, and I’ve accepted it.”
Crowley ran his thumb down Aziraphale’s cheek, thinking. After a moment, he asked, “Can I see your true form again?”
Aziraphale winced but then he nodded. After a moment, he shivered, and then the illusion wavered before falling away entirely. Crowley tried not to cower back as his angel changed before his eyes. He tried to accept that this was the new form he’d be seeing from now on. Even if Aziraphale looked different-even if he’d gone (quite literally) through Hell and back-he was still the Aziraphale Crowley knew and loved. Crowley leaned forward and kissed the scarred lips. When he pulled back, there were tears in Aziraphale’s eyes.
After that, they continued as they would have any normal day. Crowley broke out some wine and they watched a James Bond movie. If Crowley had to jump the first few times he looked over and found his angel looking less angelic than usual, that was alright. After all, he’d have to get used to it eventually, whether he wanted to or not.
The movie hadn’t finished, however, before Aziraphale started shaking. Crowley sat up, dispelling the alcohol from his system.
“Angel-“
“I’m not an angel!” Aziraphale snapped, eyes aflame. Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry dear, I should have told you.”
“Why you’re suddenly rude to me? I was a young demon once, too, you know.”
Aziraphale shook his head fiercely. “How I got permission to come to Earth.”
Crowley froze. He hadn’t thought about it before and now he was concerned. “Angel, please don’t tell me you made a deal.”
“They said I could work by your side and I could see you for a day…” Aziraphale explained. He shook as another spasm hit his system.
“And the catch was…?”
“We would be partners for eternity.” Another spasm.
“And?”
“And I would have my memory wiped.”
Crowley’s jaw dropped. His whole body felt numb. So this was how they’d kill two birds with one stone. Double Hell’s effect on the world while also managing to punish Crowley for what happened in Tadfield. It was genius, probably inspired by his modern ways of evil. Crowley was getting a tast of his own medicine in the worst way possible and Aziraphale was suffering because of it.
Suddenly, Aziraphale’s spasms intensified and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Crowley leaned over, only able to wait until the spasms finally subsided. When they did, Crowley began shaking Aziraphale awake-gently at first, then progressively more rough until Aziraphale’s eyes slowly opened.
“Jesus, angel, are you alright?”
“Why are you calling me an angel?” Aziraphale asked. It wasn’t as angry as the time before.
“We’ve gone over this, Aziraphale,” Crowley sighed.
“Am I Aziraphale? Is that my name?”
Crowley didn’t respond. He couldn’t.
“Are you my mentor?”
“…Yes.”