Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Darling?"

Although Aziraphale had rushed inside the bookshop, absent-minded enough to not even shut the door behind himself, his voice lacked the usual tell-tale signs of anxiety that in turn made the demon anxious. His angel sounded curious and so very soft and Crowley felt himself relax further into the sofa. He didn't even lift his head from his phone.

"Yeah?"

Shuffling, before fingers were running through his hair, scratching at his scalp and, oh, that was good. There was no way Aziraphale was worried about something if he had decided to start the conversation this way. Crowley leant into the touch with a little hiss, not unlike a fussy house cat. 

"Do you have any idea why Mr. Brown asked after the health of my partner?" 

And apparently, Crowley had been wrong. He felt his limbs grow cold as his stomach plummeted to the lowest circles of Hell. Even Aziraphale's gentle touch wasn't enough to dull the sharpness of his next words.

"Because humans tend to like putting labels on other people's relationships?" he whispered, hoping that the low volume would be enough to obscure the serrated edges of his voice. He still hadn't met Aziraphale's eyes. "And you have a partner now, remember?"

Forgive him if he was still feeling a little raw after everything that had happened between them. Or rather... Please, don't. Those words still stung a little.

A sharp intake of breath, a herald of soft touches and even softer words and for once Crowley leant into the onslaught. Aziraphale's fingers turned even more gentle, his voice - hushed and frantic and just a touch too reverent for a demon's soul.

"Oh, no, my darling. You misunderstand- You- You know, I adore you so, sweetheart, and I would never make you insecure about my feelings again. That's not-" Finally, Aziraphale took in a breath he didn't need and seemed to compose himself. Crowley tried hard not to feel bereft at the return of composure. "He meant my business partner."

Crowley's next words, now more a teasing gibe than the sour of betrayal he had felt only a flash of, froze on his lips.

"Are you sure, angel?"

Aziraphale sighed, before patting Crowley's knees, which the demon folded quickly, making space for his angel on the sofa. He still did, even when his brain had frozen in the process of assimilating this new information. But his signature grumbling was missing, a clear sign that he was not all there, a fact Aziraphale ignored generously. Crowley waited for the other to make himself comfortable by his side before propping his feet back down, now comfortably cushioned by the angel's lap. Not that brain-dead to miss that kind of opportunity, at least. Never would be, even if he was actually missing a brain.

"Yes, darling." Aziraphale's fingers wrapped around his ankles. "I'm pretty sure I can tell when someone refers to my fiance as my 'business partner'. Have you been speaking to Mr. Brown perhaps?"

Sidestepping the whole fiance business, the word still managed to make something warm squirm in his stomach and the timing was not the best when he was trying to think, Crowley made a face. Now that he wasn't trying to avoid Aziraphale's gaze, it wasn't hard to share a disapproving look.

"You know I don't speak to that man. Not after..." Something occurred to him. "Do you think perhaps that's his way of making sense of-" Crowley's hand fluttered in the space between them and Crowley himself tried very hard to ignore the indulgent smile that spilled all over his angel's face at the gesture. "Maybe it's his way of saying he approves. Who knows? Who cares! I certainly don't need that asshole's blessing, do you?"

Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully, his fingers leaving their perch on top of Crowley's bony ankles, running over his shin, up over suddenly weak knees to curl around his thigh and- Crowley could certainly think of something better to do than discuss the weird behaviour of one weird neighbour. He was already shifting, trying to sit up without dislodging the hand on his leg. There was no danger of that, Aziraphale was holding onto him tightly, fingers digging into the meat of him, even as his gaze was still lost somewhere over Crowley's left shoulder.

"He has been exceedingly nice to me ever since I came back. He said he was happy that my problems with the law were finally over so I could return to 'the living'. Those were the words he used, 'return to'-"

Aziraphale's eyes finally met Crowley's, before shifting to take in the whole picture. From his own fingers wrapped around the other's thigh, to the rapid rise and fall of Crowley's chest, the tension in the demon's hands, posed to strike, before ending the tour of the other's body at the starting point - amber eyes, dark with need and desire. Having, correctly, come to the same conclusion Crowley had come to, namely, that Mr. Brown could wait, Aziraphale leant forward.

But Crowley's interest had been piqued. First, Mr. Brown calling him his angel's business partner, and then bringing up Aziraphale's apparent 'problems with the law'? There was something there and he needed to inves- Having probably sensed Crowley's lack of full attention, Aziraphale, the bastard, had moved lower and was now mouthing at his throat. And, oh, the fingers were inching up now, smoothing over the sharpness of his hips before-

Later. He would investigate later.

It was surprisingly easy to dig out all the rumours, concerning their relationship, that had been floating around. Almost shamefully easy and Crowley would have probably felt embarrassed for having needed so long to figure it all out. But he also knew that at any point in their long history together, perhaps barring the last few years, he had been too focused on hiding those feelings from the only creature that mattered to consider how they might spill over in view of anyone else. 

Still, it was almost impressive, the way that the whole neighbourhood had seen those feelings and had interpreted them through their own prism of expectations, assumptions and life experiences. How was he expected not to use that knowledge for evil?

He was a demon, still, even if a retired one. And he was sure Aziraphale would hardly mind, once he decided to bring him in on the plan. But, first, he was going to have fun with it.

His first victim was, obviously, Mr. Brown. Partly as a gesture of gratitude for opening the demon's eyes to the whole web of misunderstandings around them and partly because he was the funniest one of them to tease. Also, maybe Crowley was still holding a grudge. He was allowed, re: the still-a-demon thing.

A few weeks of lurking in Mr. Brown's shadows were more than enough for Crowley to know everything there was to know about the man. What could he say, Mr. Brown wasn't exactly a thrilling individual. And Thursdays appeared to be date nights for Mr and Mr. Brown. Just that little titbit would have probably saved Crowley a lot of frustration and, apparently misplaced, anger. Not to mention the few, harmless really, curses he had put on the man. 

It didn't take long to lure his angel to Ms. Cheng's restaurant. A few priorly whispered words of suggestion and a wiggle of a finger and they were even sat next to Crowley's victim. Aziraphale greeted them, a nod for Mr. Brown and a dazzling smile for his husband, while Crowley ignored them. It wouldn't do to start drawing suspicion by acting friendly too early into the game. Instead, he did what he always did. He waited for his angel to make himself comfortable, before tucking his chair closer to the table. The smile that he received, always blinding, always gorgeous, was almost enough to distract him from his goal.

But, no, he was going to be strong. What sort of a demon couldn't even remain focused for a few minutes to pull off a temptation. Well, a lot of them, demons weren't the... smartest usually. But Crowley had always prided himself on being above the demon folk in both intellect and hygiene.

He still kept his hands firmly in his lap, instead of reaching over the table to cradle his angel's. Aziraphale's eyebrows scrunched up deliciously, pink mouth forming an adorable pout and Crowley should definitely say something now, to distract them both, if he didn't want the evening ending up in a disaster. 

Problem was, he had completely forgotten his plan.

"Adam called yesterday," he said, voice slightly too high-pitched. A truth. Not a good start. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow over the menu in his hands. "He said he is happy you're finally back to the world of the living and everything with you-know-what has been resolved."

A slight exaggeration - better! He had also used the vaguest possible words to lure his victim's attention. He could see Mr. Brown side-eyeing them. 

Aziraphale smiled as he lowered the menu, the greatest form of respect in his angel's world. "Oh, that's so lovely of him! I missed them all so terribly while I was away! We should really go visit them soon, darling? What do you say?"

His angel was looking at him, starry-eyed and eager and so damn pretty and Crowley's first instinct was to say, 'Yes'. Yes, of course they could go, they could go right now. Anything his angel wanted as long as he continued looking at him like that. His second instinct, the more rational one, was to call Adam to see if the boy was available. He had just started Uni, he probably didn't want his weird occult godparents dropping in unannounced. 

His third instinct, sadly, was to stick to the game. He was going to make it up to Aziraphale, he was. The moment this was over and Mr. Brown was sufficiently tortured.

Crowley shook his head, his regret not even forced. "Not anytime soon, angel. I'm sorry. I have-" He hesitated, mostly for show, mostly because he wasn't sure how Aziraphale would react to his next words. That was the pain of not sharing his plan with his angel. "I have a few of mine coming over this week."

Aziraphale went still. Mr. Brown's head twitched in their direction. 

"A few of yours? Oh, darling, I'm not sure-" Aziraphale floundered, hands fluttering before his chest, cheeks turning scarlet. Oh, but he looked delicious and Crowley surely couldn't be blamed for reaching over the table to gather his hands.

"Not the bad ones." At his angel's glare, he shook his head and quickly amended, "Not the worst ones, you know I would never- And they know to behave themselves, I've made them perfectly aware of what will happen if they don't."

He stared at Aziraphale, willing him to trust him. This had been stupid, he realised, bringing up demons visiting the bookshop, when that topic remained one of the few things they couldn't quite agree on. It made this far too real for Crowley's comfort, his angel's anxiety thick around them both, choking him. 

Finally, Aziraphale nodded, a jerk of the chin more than anything but... Enough. Crowley felt his shoulders slump in relief, squeezed at the hands in his grasp.

"Thank you, angel. You know I wouldn't do it if-"

"I know," Aziraphale stopped him, voice firm. "I understand, I do. They need guidance after everything that happened and- And you are the best one to help with that."

Aziraphale nodded again, a proper one this time, and leant over to kiss him. A chaste kiss, nothing more than a delicious slide of his lips against Crowley's and yet enough to cease the demon's brain functions for a while. Or maybe it was the fact his angel had so readily turned his beloved bookshop into a demon refuge, without a second thought, just because Crowley had asked.

Trying to ignore the warmth that threatened to burn him from the inside, Crowley was too busy to stop his grin from spilling all over his face. Not that it mattered, not really, when Aziraphale looked at him like that.

He vowed to call Adam the moment they made it home to see when the young man would be able to meet them. 

Under the table, Aziraphale's shoe bumped into his shin, before sliding higher. Okay, well. Maybe tomorrow? Their godson needed his sleep after all, he was a growing boy.

Crowley didn't even notice the way Mr. Brown was staring, fully turned towards them now, his mouth hanging open.

Mutt thought... Well, Crowley had never had a problem with Mutt. 

Besides, he had sort of guessed what the other man saw in his relationship with his angel after a few nights spent at the pub. What had started as a chance encounter had quickly grown into a monthly tradition and Crowley usually didn't say that about humans but he... he liked the man. And that had nothing to do with the fact Mutt had seen him cry into his pint more often than anyone else, alive or not.

He still visited the magic shop. He didn't take Aziraphale with him because he was sick of being distracted by his angel at every step of his dastardly plan.

"Crowley!" Mutt greeted him the moment he opened the door. His voice was soft. The same one he reserved only for the closest of his friends and the notion that this also included the demon was still so foreign to Crowley.

"Hey, Mutt." Crowley tipped a two-fingered salute towards the man. He still lingered in the doorway, unsure as to how to handle visiting well, his friend, he supposed, at work. When he finally made it to the counter, his walk was unusually stiff and stilted. It was very hard to be awkward around a person who had nursed you through the biggest heartbreak of your immortal life and yet, here Crowley was, giving it a very valiant try. "How is Andrew?"

That was always a safe bet. There was nothing that could distract Mutt more than the mention of his partner. And as expected, Mutt's face broke into a grin.

"Oh, you know, same old, same old." Mutt waved a hand dismissively but Crowley wouldn't be fooled so easily. He leant closer, expectantly. It didn't take long before Mutt's grin was widening, taking on a proud tinge. "They got that promotion, did I tell you? We didn't think they would, especially with how their manager was behaving but all of a sudden the old fool decided to just quit on the spot, a few months before he could retire. And who better to step in than my beautiful and very capable spouse."

Crowley, who had an inkling as to why that ancient asshole and an all sorts of -phobe had left their position, could only smirk. Least he could do. Not to mention he did have to spend all his demonic energy on something and terrorising his neighbours was only one part of his daily routine.

"I'm glad, they deserved it." Crowley nodded before flexing a finger. Just in case someone else decided to be rude to Mutt's partner. 

Mutt waved a hand again, but his proud little smile gave him away. Probably sensing that, the man quickly changed the subject to what Crowley knew they would inevitably come to.

"I heard Mr. Fell is back, too. How quickly that man arose from the dead! It's remarkable, he needs to give Jesus some pointers."

Crowley tipped his head back with a groan while Mutt laughed. That again... He had hoped, now that Aziraphale was back, that the rumour would finally die the same horrible death his angel had suffered, at least in the minds of half the street.

"That's just-"

"- A vicious rumour, I know." Mutt, who had spent the better part of last year listening to Crowley whinge, knew that wasn't why Aziraphale had left. Of course, he did also think it had something to do with their rival families, but that was as close to the truth as you could get without going into sermonising so the demon had let him believe it happily. "I did tell you he would be back, though, didn't I? Never seen a man so smitten."

And maybe Crowley had never really learnt how to act around friends or maintain relationships, save for one particular angel, because he couldn't wait to sink his teeth into that delicious bait. 

"Except maybe in the mirror?"

And maybe Mutt hadn't really mastered those skills either, because all he did was laugh. 

"I hope you are referring to yourself and your mirror, Crowley." Mutt didn't even have the decency to let him retort before he was jerking a chin towards the demon's hand with a smirk. "I see congratulations are in order. You or him?"

Crowley ducked his head, far too conscious of the way his cheeks were suddenly burning. He flexed his hand, gazing at the simple golden band on his finger, almost in wonder. Almost as if he was surprised to see it there. Which, in all honesty, wasn't too far from the truth.

"Him," finally he answered, almost shyly. But if Mutt was going to judge him, he had missed his cue by about a year, so Crowley tried not to worry too much. There was no reason for it, he realised quickly as his gaze turned to the man. Mutt was looking at him with the same sort of pride he had shown for his spouse and it rendered Crowley speechless for a few seconds.

"He proposed a few weeks ago. He wants a big wedding, all of our friends, an announcement in the papers, if you could believe it. The whole thing. I keep insisting I don't need one. It feels silly after almost an eternity together to make such a fuss. He knows I'm his and I know I'm his, so not much of a point, really. But he keeps saying he wants to show me that he would never leave again, that he is mine and-" Crowley shrugged. "I've never been very good at saying no to him."

Mutt's smile had lost its teasing edge, instead turning so gentle Crowley could barely stand it. He waved a hand, as if to chase away all those pesky emotions. 

"Now, how about you sell me some magic tricks, suitable for the angel's non-existent skills so he doesn't throw me out on the street for coming back empty-handed."

Mutt knew him well-enough to recognise when he could push for more and when he should pretend alongside Crowley that the demon had no feelings whatsoever. With a smile, the shopkeeper led him to the corner he had dedicated for the things he thought Mr. Fell might like.

Chapter Text

Crowley was going to have fun with Mrs. Sandwich. He was sure of that.

As soon as he had sent Aziraphale to wait for him in the cafe, with a kiss and a promise to be there right away, he got to work. He found the tightest leather trousers he had, made them just a tad tighter, just because. It would be a pain when it came time to peel himself out of them, which he hoped he would be doing sooner rather than later, if it all went to plan, but that was a problem for future Crowley. Future Crowley who would hopefully have his angel wrapped around him, dizzy with desire and need, strong enough to stop him from whining about unnecessary miracles.

Next was the shirt. He remembered how his angel had looked at him, during the few rare times he hadn't worn all black. He could recall that night in 1941, Aziraphale's gaze lingering, longer than usual, at the narrow expanse of Crowley's chest. Wearing that same colour would inevitably bring back old memories, not particularly pleasant ones. But nothing could stop him from turning one of his shirts deep red, a colour that suited him just as much. A final touch, a hand through his hair, making it just a touch longer, long enough to curl around his neck and he was ready.

As he had expected, Mrs. Sandwich was already at the cafe, as she always was on Wednesdays at 2, before she disappeared back into her fine establishment. He didn't spare her a glance of course, nothing as obvious as that. No, his goal was clearly the mop of white curls he could see at the back of the cafe. 

Well, if Mrs. Sandwich thought that he was a hired companion, he was going to give her the show of a lifetime.

It came natural to brush a hand over his angel's shoulder once he had approached their usual table. The way he leant down to brush his lips across Aziraphale's cheek, well, that, was more of a creative liberty. The way his angel gasped, just slightly, twitched closer, was a surprise, one that he happily filed away for later.

"Oh, my darling, so glad that you could make it. I ordered for us, I hope-" Aziraphale was babbling, still lingering at the edge of ignorance, before he stopped himself with another gasp, louder this time, as Crowley finally entered his field of vision. His angel's eyes swept over his body, roving hungrily, and then they were widening, darkening and Crowley should have definitely prepared himself for the flash of soul-searing lust that coursed through his veins. 

"Hey, angel," he said lightly, ignoring the way Aziraphale was looking at him like he was a second away from miracling them both back to the bookshop. Ignoring how much Crowley wanted him to. Still didn't stop himself from twisting his hips just right or enjoying the way his angel's attention snapped to them immediately.

This was going to be more fun than he had expected. And that had nothing to do with the way Mrs. Sandwich was eyeing him curiously.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. Had to get ready for you." 

Crowley waved a hand down his body with a smirk and his angel followed it, earnestly. Aziraphale opened his mouth, probably to object, before closing it with a click, apparently not trusting his voice. His throat convulsed as he swallowed and a piece of Crowley's sanity was lost with it.

"Not- not a problem, darling," finally his angel managed, voice just slightly too wavy, but otherwise perfectly composed. Crowley didn't like it. "I got you a coffee, black, no sugar. I hope that's acceptable?"

And how was Crowley supposed to ignore such an opportunity? He leant forward on his elbows, enough for his shirt to fall open to reveal the edges of his collarbones. Aziraphale's gaze was almost burning as it settled on the sliver of skin.

"It's perfect, angel. You know exactly what I like," Crowley drawled, voice pitched low. In front of him his angel squirmed, cheeks flushed. The beginning of sweat was clinging onto his forehead.

He had forgotten how fun it was to tease Aziraphale, especially now when he knew he was allowed to touch and to kiss and to be with him. When he didn't have to censor every feeling, every thought inside his head. When he knew his angel was his.

He let his foot slide forward, ankle nestling easily between his angel's. Aziraphale's legs clamped tightly around him, his cheeks tinged the prettiest pink and Crowley found himself having to force his own lungs to allow in air again. This was rapidly getting out of control but... Well, he couldn't say that he minded. Especially when he knew the bookshop was right there, no more than a minute walk and he could surely make it. 

Crowley shifted again, felt just how tight his trousers were. Well. There was always the cafe restroom, worst comes to worst, or they could perform a miracle. That's what miracles were for. He wasn't sure his angel would quite agree to the sentiment, but then again, Aziraphale was just as flushed as he was, chest rising rapidly.

Someone, for the life of him, Crowley couldn't tell who, placed their order before them. They also gave him a knowing look, which Crowley did notice and chose to completely ignore in favour of staring at his angel. The angel who had also failed to acknowledge their server and it almost made Crowley giddy to realise it was because of him.

They must have stayed like this for eternities, before, way too soon for Crowley's liking, Aziraphale was shaking himself out of his daze.

"Goodness, you must forgive me, dearest. The way you look today-" Aziraphale's eyes were drawn to that sliver of skin again, before snapping back to his face in resolution. He looked so beautiful like this, Crowley realised, trying so hard to stay focused on the demon. Focused enough to shower him with compliments that made Crowley's skin burn far more brightly than any look would. "You are always simply exquisite, but today, darling... Today you are just divine."

The force of those words was almost enough to distract Crowley from his plan. But he had decided he was going to be strong today. He was going to play the part of the hired partner and nothing, not even his angel's delicious words, would stop him. It helped that he had had enough foresight to prepare himself for them.

"It's what you keep me for, angel," he said, with a wink, before he leant back into his chair. He let his legs fall open, his hands rubbing down the length of his thighs and drawing the angel's attention to them. To curves he knew his angel couldn't resist.

Aziraphale's gaze didn't even waver from his eyes, solemn and resolute, as his face hardened.

"The way you look is only a part of why I love you," his angel said, low enough that only Crowley could hear, like a secret. But it wasn't a secret, no, Aziraphale had long ago stopped treating it as a secret. Instead, it was simply the truth, unwavering and there, only for the demon's ears. "And not even one of the most important reasons, really."

Aziraphale reached forward, hand snaking between forgotten cups, to lace their fingers together. The touch was gentle and light and yet so possessive that it made Crowley suck in a breath. And there was something in the way his angel was looking at him, something so terribly familiar that the demon couldn't quite place.

"Do you perhaps want to leave? We can continue this discussion at home?" Aziraphale asked, the slight tremor in his voice, the only thing that gave away his desire.

Someone snorted in the distance, Crowley paid them no mind.

But Crowley knew him well enough to notice the way his hand, still in the demon's grasp, was trembling, the way perfect teeth were digging into the pink of his mouth. How very careful his angel was to keep his gaze firmly on Crowley's face. That familiar-unfamiliar feeling swelled between them, ready to burst.

However, Crowley, it appeared, was not too far gone to tease, "Mmm, whisking me away so soon to your bookshop? No dinner, not even letting me enjoy my coffee? Might cost you extra, angel."

Aziraphale shook his head slowly, far too composed for the demon's liking. 

"Anything you want, darling. You must know that." Crowley's fingers were being squeezed again, Aziraphale's thumb brushing down the length of his palm to press against his wrist, where he could feel the wild beat of the demon's heart. "I would give you anything you wish for, everything that I could. And I wouldn't ask for anything in return."

And it was then, that Crowley realised how he knew that look. Suddenly, he remembered. Every time Aziraphale had looked at him like this, the soft reverence, the barely disguised need. Need for him, yes, but also a need to give him all that he had. To share with the demon his everything.

It took his breath away. 

A, minor really, miracle in order to make himself presentable to the public, damn those tight trousers, and Crowley was jumping to his feet. And then he was at Aziraphale's side, pawing at his shoulder, no regard for public decency or his own dignity.

"Up, angel. Come on," he whined, desperate and not even willing to hide it. 

His angel chuckled but he did raise himself. After, Crowley couldn't help but notice, he had performed his own miracle. Good to know, very good to know.

He threw a couple of notes on the table before he was dragging Aziraphale out of the cafe by the hand, plan very firmly abandoned. Strange, but that was the last thing on his mind, as his angel crowded him against the door of the bookshop.

His second attempt was better. 

For one thing, he managed not to turn into a demon-shaped pile of need and desire the moment his angel touched him. And, most importantly, he managed to do what he had initially planned to. In full view of Mrs. Sandwich, no less.

There they were, Aziraphale's fingers running up and down his forearm, while Crowley tried to stop his knees from giving out. But did he let that distract him? Did he let his need to drag his angel home stop him from finally carrying out his plan? Hell, no.

Nina looked at him, while she gave them the total for their drinks. The drinks, barely touched on their usual table. He looked at Aziraphale expectantly. Aziraphale was too busy trying to undo the cufflink of Crowley's shirt, deep blue today, without anyone noticing. Everyone had noticed.

"That's fine, it's on the house," Nina was the first one to speak, waving her hand in front of her face with a tense smile. Anything she could do to get them out of her cafe and somewhere private, Crowley suspected.

That managed to snap Aziraphale out of the weird staring contest he was having with Crowley's other cufflink, too far out of his reach to be undone by deft fingers. He raised his head to look at Crowley, undoubtedly noting the innocently expectant way the demon was looking at him, before his lips turned into a pout.

"Nonsense, my dear," his angel argued, voice tense, as if Crowley had asked him to give up tea for a week. 

He reached into his pocket and Crowley couldn't help but notice the tell-tale sign of a miracle just as the angel took his wallet out. It occurred to him that his angel hadn't even bothered to bring his wallet while out with Crowley and, for no apparent reason, the revelation made something bright burn in his core.

Aziraphale wasted no time in taking out a few notes, far too many for what they had ordered, but Crowley knew that was on purpose, before dragging him out of the cafe.

He had expected to be crowded against the door of the bookshop. Had been planning on it, especially considering the fact his shirt was still hanging half-open in front of him, the buttons having been undone slowly, back at the cafe, while Aziraphale had tried not to choke on his hot chocolate. He had also expected the door to be locked and the blinds drawn as soon as they had made it inside. Aziraphale's warm palms on him were also a welcomed unsurprise.

What he hadn't expected was for Aziraphale to pin him to the door, hands curling around his hips. And make no move whatsoever to kiss him.

"What was that, darling?" his angel asked, head tilting to the side curiously. And he was still not kissing him, no matter how subtly Crowley tried to press the lower parts of their bodies together.

"It's called a temptation, angel,"  Crowley drawled, trying to employ the aforementioned tactic to get his angel's lips on him. Or even Crowley's lips on Aziraphale, he really wasn't picky. But Aziraphale was holding onto him, pinning him in one place with both his hold and his stare and Crowley quickly changed lanes. He winked. Also, brought his hands up to continue unbuttoning his own shirt. If Aziraphale was so rudely denying him the pleasure of undressing him then he was going to take care of himself, damn it.

"Might have to get my demon card revoked if you can't even tell what I'm trying to do."

One of Aziraphale's hands shot up from its perch on the demon's hip to gather his hands and bring them both above their heads. The move was smooth, practised, and Crowley delighted at both the revelation of how easy it had been to temp his angel and their proximity. He wiggled closer. 

"Not that, you fiend! I am well-aware of how tempting you can be," Aziraphale hissed, eyes flashing, and, oh, that was even better. Crowley wiggled again.

But far too soon for his liking and before any real seduction had happened, his angel was letting go of him, with only a stern look to warn him off from misbehaving. But he was also not making any attempt to take away the proximity of their bodies, and for that Crowley was unreasonably grateful. 

"I was referring to what happened at the cafe, dearest?"

Crowley snorted. Trust Aziraphale to remain unbothered throughout the demon's exceedingly suspicious behaviour until it came to the angel having to pay for his own drink. Crowley should have realised he could get away with a lot more before he had crossed that fatal boundary.

"I forgot my wallet, angel, it happens. Especially with you looking as delectable as you usually do, a demon is allowed to be a little scatter-brained."

Crowley reached forward, laying his palms on the other's chest, smoothing down his lapels. A futile attempt to distract his angel as much as an excuse to touch him. He really was more delectable than ever. Being Crowley's was a good look on him.

Aziraphale's hands covered his own, just holding him close, and he was smiling, a soft little thing as if he could read his demon's mind. For a moment, Crowley let himself hope that this had been it, crisis averted, he could go back to wreaking havoc on the neighbourhood and also non-incidentally incidentally seducing Aziraphale in the process.

But then his angel was leaning forward, soft lips ghosting over his jaw and he knew, he knew it was over. He had to come clean. Because this was his angel seducing information out of him, and despite the fact he had had millennia to get used to the soft touches and even softer gazes, he had yet to build an immunity to it. Reckoned he never would, not really, not properly. Didn't want to anyway.

"You have been acting increasingly strange, my darling. Always while we are in the presence of one of our neighbours, come to think of it. And I couldn't help but notice you eyeing Mrs. Sandwich this morning." Aziraphale leant back, just enough to peer at him. And, yes, just as expected, that ancient, burning desire to share, to give, anything, choked at Crowley's throat. 

Crowley sighed, letting his head thump back against the door. "Alright, alright." Reluctantly, he extracted himself from Aziraphale's grip, before rubbing at his wrists, mostly for show. Mostly, because he liked the way his angel's gaze snapped to his hands, the gentle way his fingers were once again wrapping around Crowley, holding his wrists up to Aziraphale's lips. He shifted closer, not even trying to hide the desperate shiver that ran down his limbs. With his mouth so close to his heartbeat, there was nothing he would be able to hide from his angel anyway.

"What have you got planned, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked him, even thought he made no move whatsoever to extract himself from the tight cocoon of intimacy the demon had still not quite gotten used to.

It was up to Crowley to put some space between them, just enough for him to be able to think and he did so as slowly as he could get away with. He pressed against the door, shivered as cold air rushed to fill the space between their bodies.

"You know how Mrs. Sandwich believed me to be a... Well, a prostitute, of sorts?"

Aziraphale grunted against his wrist. The wrist he had not yet released and had not even stopped pressing open-mouthed kisses against. Crowley wondered why he was telling him all of this, when both of them were evidently far more interested in other, better things they could be doing. Because he wanted him to know, he realised, slowly but with the unshakable solemnity of an absolute truth. Because he missed having his partner in crime, because everything was far more fun when shared with Aziraphale. Because his angel was a devious bastard and Crowley couldn't wait to unleash him on all their unsuspecting victims. Because Crowley loved him, loved him so very much, and couldn't imagine not sharing all the juicy details of everything he had found out lately.

"An ancient matter, we straightened that out ages ago," Aziraphale hummed before something must have occurred to him. He levelled Crowley with a glare. "And you stopped hanging around her place of business, did you not?"

Jealousy, even unfounded one, was an even better look on him and Crowley grinned. 

"'Course I did. Don't want to take the money of unsuspecting humans, now, do I?" Or get railed on Mrs. Sandwich's talons, once she found him out again, he thought but didn't say. It felt far too real for his teasing tone.

Aziraphale had once again busied himself with the demon's wrist, his tongue now trailing down, the faintest tickle across Crowley's palm and it was now or never. A second more of this and Crowley would have space in his head enough for only one person and Mrs. Sandwich would sadly not make the cut.

"Recently, I found out that she thought you won me over using-" Crowley hesitated, partly because Aziraphale was now sucking on his thumb and it was taking all of his willpower to continue talking. Partly because he had no idea how to phrase this, at all. His angel looked up, blue eyes shining underneath long eyelashes and, oh, Crowley had to be very quick with this. He blurted out, "She thought you were my sugar daddy."
 
Aziraphale's jaw hung open, the demon's thumb falling out of it with an unwilling pop.

"She what?" his angel hissed. It must have been a true testament of his friendship with Nina that his angel even knew what this meant. Crowley had maybe hoped that he wouldn't so they could go back to the thing they had been doing, with Aziraphale's eager mouth on him.

"Angel," he said softly, hands coming up to cradle the other's cheek. There was something very strange happening to said cheek, it was both flushing with embarrassment and paling in indignation. 

"She thinks- She thinks you are some sort of kept thing? That you are not with me out of loyalty, out of love, but just for monetary gain?" Aziraphale's voice was getting higher and higher and Crowley shushed him gently, stroking his skin with as many feelings contrary to the angel's words as he could manage. 

"I don't imagine she thinks so now. There is nobody who could look at me and not realise I am smitten with you, angel. And that includes you, too, if you were wondering." 

Aziraphale smiled at that, a flower reluctantly blooming at the insistence of a spring sunray. 

"But she thinks it started out this way? That I bought your attention, before I could manage to win it over?" There was no anger in his words, not anymore. Curiosity, like always. His curious lovely angel. Crowley nodded. A few seconds passed, enough apparently for the anger to have completely melted off Aziraphale's shoulder, as long-lived as the first snow. And then his angel was smiling.

"Well, I could understand why she thought so. Just look at you, my darling, so breathtakingly gorgeous," Aziraphale teased, light and sweet and pretty. So very pretty, especially when he smiled like that. Crowley couldn't help but smile back. 

"If there is someone paying for attention in this relationship, it would be me, angel. You are a spoiled thing. Just look at you throwing a fit after I made you pay for the first time in centuries." 

Despite his words, or maybe because of them, Aziraphale leant forward to press their smiling mouths together.

"Mutt thinks we are childhood sweethearts," Crowley said, once they had separated and his angel's hands were back on his hips. " With rivalling families, very Romeo and Juliet type of thing."

Aziraphale flushed a lovely crimson, teeth digging into his lips. It was of no use, he couldn't stop them from widening into a grin. 

"That's... not that far from the truth, is it?" There was a pleased little tinge to his words and Crowley swallowed around them again.

"And Nina thought I was using you to launder money through the bookshop," Crowley shared once again because, apparently, he couldn't stop himself once he had started. To his amazement, Aziraphale simply laughed.

"Oh, she told me! It made me feel quite warm to tell you the truth, the fact she was so protective over me, having barely known me back then. Don't worry, I let her know I am perfectly capable of dealing with the mafia, when they come calling."

It made Crowley feel warm too, for some reason. The home they had made here, just for them, the friends they had found along the way. It occurred to him he should invite Mutt and Andrew over, soon. Aziraphale had been hinting at it these past few weeks but he hadn't wanted to overstep, hadn't been sure it would go well. He was sure now. 

"And Mr. Brown believes I am in the mafia and you faked your death to escape the crimes I have been forcing you to commit," Crowley said, as an afterthought, even as his angel was mouthing at the skin below his ear and making everything else apart from that feel so very unimportant.

Aziraphale flinched back with a hiss, the words like scalding water poured over him. 

"He what?"

Chapter Text

Crowley should have probably been more suspicious when Aziraphale asked him to accompany him to the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeepers Association meeting. Especially seeing as it fell on their usual date night and the demon had already reserved a table at the Ritz. Aziraphale loved the Ritz. He wasn't because... Well, because he had always been a little dumb when it came to his angel's schemes, it was all that distracting beauty. And because he hadn't minded terribly, seeing as he got to be with Aziraphale anyway. 

When they took their seat at the front row, that should have been his second warning sign. It wasn't. He explained it away with his angel's eagerness and the fact he exuded teacher's pet energy even though neither of them had ever found themselves in such a situation to confirm his suspicions. Besides, Crowley had been deftly, and he suspected later on, quite on purpose, sat next to Mutt and his spouse and quickly whisked away into a conversation about dinner dates and magic shows. 

He wasn't even suspicious when Aziraphale stood up the moment the meeting started and turned towards the crowd. He had no excuse for that one. 

"Excuse me please," his angel said, voice booming strangely in the suddenly too small room. "If I could have everyone's attention?"

A hushed silence fell over the gathered people, quick enough to be suspicious. Crowley finally lifted his head from the game of Candy Crush he had been playing, loudly and obnoxiously enough to garner several glares. 

"Thank you." 

Aziraphale smiled, tight-lipped, his hands fluttering in front of his chest. He was nervous and before he could even question himself, not that it would have done him any good, Crowley was reaching over to curl long fingers around his angel's wrist. Aziraphale tipped his head down, looking almost startled at the blatant display of affection, but then he was shifting slightly. Tugging away from Crowley's loose grip only to come back to lace their fingers together. 

"I would like to announce that this lovely creature-" Aziraphale raised their linked fingers"-is my husband."

"Fiance," Crowley corrected quietly.

"My soon-to-be husband," Aziraphale allowed, a gentle smile as he looked down at his demon. His eyes were insistent and warm and filled so to the brim with love that it made Crowley squirm in his seat. It didn't even matter to him that everyone was staring, at them, at their hands, at the unusual behaviour of the usually quiet and shy bookshop owner. Aziraphale's gaze was more than enough to make flames lick at his belly. And make the whole world around them disappear. 

Finally, with as much reluctance as Crowley was feeling, Aziraphale managed to tear his gaze away from the demon and turned back to the crowd. The crowd that was still staring at them in bemused silence. 

"And he is not and has never been in the mafia. Or committed any major cr-" At this, Aziraphale stopped himself, the angelic urge not to lie too strong for him to bear, apparently. "Well, in any case, he has not been a part of any crime syndicate." He tilted his head, thought better of his words and amended them slightly. "He has never been a part of the mafia."

With a wince, Crowley realised this was not helping anyone. If anything, his angel's little speech would make their neighbours discuss the rumours more and not less. Something the demon couldn't say he minded. Besides, it was increasingly funny to watch Mr. Brown's face flush with disbelief and indignation, so Crowley, the good soon-to-be husband that he was, decided he didn't need to intervene yet. Instead, he just smirked.

"And he has never been any sort of rent boy," Aziraphale noted sharply, not directed to anyone in particular. Even though Crowley could see the little twitch in his neck as he tried very hard not to turn towards Mrs. Sandwich. That statement did not warrant any further amendments so Aziraphale stood quietly for a moment, giving time for his audience to assimilate everything he had said, before he was nodding to himself. Before he was making to sit down.

Before Mr. Brown managed to stop him.

"I heard him last month! At the restaurant!" The man stood up, pointing an accusing finger at them both, but mostly Crowley. He was shaking slightly, his face twisted into a grimace, and for once Crowley couldn't blame him. He had put on quite a show for the human. "He said he is bringing a few members of his gang to our peaceful neighbourhood. Not the worst ones, he said, I heard him!"

Aziraphale looked down at the demon again, lips tightening into a pout that no doubt meant his angel was going over their date at Ms. Cheng's restaurant with new eyes. Crowley could only shrug. It would have helped if he was feeling even a little bit apologetic over his behaviour but he really wasn't. This was too much fun for him to regret anything.

"Would you care to explain yourself, darling?" his angel asked, sickly sweet, his nose scrunching just so. Ah, there it was. The regret. It had just taken Aziraphale forcing him to clean up his own mess for it to rear its ugly, if fun-shaped head. 

"I meant a few members of my family were coming over," he explained through gritted teeth, holding Mr. Brown's disbelieving glare. He tried not to shudder at the idea of referring to any demon as his family but needs must. "They are not the best out there but they are certainly not part of any crime-affiliated group."

Aziraphale tugged at his hand with urgency but Crowley had no problem bending the truth a little closer to its breaking point than his angel. He shrugged again, not making any effort to amend his statement. 

It was helping his point that a few demons had already been round the bookshop, to seek advice on how to act around the humans or guidance on simple do's and don'ts of the mortal world. And each time Aziraphale had sat them down with a smile, had offered them a cup of tea while assuring them a human would generally agree to the offer, before leaving them in the company of Crowley. For all his anxiety over demons regularly visiting his shop, his angel had quickly turned into a generous and lovely host. Crowley had no doubt that had more to do with his love towards Crowley than his general desire to have any sort of creature in his shop. He was still trying to ignore the way his stomach flipped at that thought. Valiantly and entirely unsuccessfully, but still trying.

And, well, people had undoubtedly seen those demons come into the shop. And while none of them had particularly looked like normal people, none of them had really looked like someone from the mafia would, either. That had been Crowley's first lesson to any demon who wanted to come to earth, now that the whole order to Heaven and Hell had been upheaved. 

Mr. Brown must have realised that at the same time the other members of the association did. A wave of relieved mumbling washed over the crowd, while Crowley stared the man down. Mr. Brown refused to get back to his seat.

"Then what about Mr. Fell faking his death?" Had he been more petulant, Mr. Brown would have stomped his foot, Crowley had no doubt. As it was, the man simply stood his ground, the finger pointed at them unwavering.

"Yes, Mr. Fell was gone an awfully long time," someone piped up from the left and Crowley turned to find Justine, the owner of the restaurant he and Aziraphale had been going to for over a decade, staring at him. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest and she honestly looked uncomfortable having all this attention turned to her. Nevertheless, she persisted and Crowley realised it was not out of curiosity or misplaced anger. She was worried. She had been worried for them, for his angel, and the thought left him warm and breathless. "And Muriel, the person you left in charge of the shop. They said you were dead."

Ah, so that's how that rumour had started. Crowley should have definitely seen this coming. A glance towards his angel told him that Aziraphale had been expecting this. Nina must have told him, he realised, and not for the first or last time wondered how it had taken them this long to figure out what everyone had been saying about them. 

Aziraphale waved a hand in front of his face as if to dispel her words, features twisting into a good approximation of sheepish uncertainty, if one did not know him well. Or, as well as Crowley knew him, in any case.

"That was simply a misunderstanding. Crowley and I, we had a fight, a horrible fight that I can admit I was mostly at fault for. Although Crowley can relent he wasn't completely blameless, either." 

Aziraphale wiggled their joined hands, prompting a response from the demon. And while they had discussed this endlessly, their fight and everything that had led to them finding themselves in that position, the reminder of it still sat heavily at the bottom of Crowley's throat. It left him breathless and voiceless and only capable of an abrupt nod, under their audience's keen eyes. 

"I left the bookshop following our- following our fight. Which I do regret and I will continue to atone for, for as long as Crowley needs, and long after that." This was said directly to the demon, as Aziraphale lifted their joined hands to his lips. He didn't need to atone for anything, Crowley had told him so many times. Wouldn't hesitate to remind him again, once they were out of the gaze of their whole neighbourhood. "I went away, to Newhaven. Our friend, they must have misunderstood. And everything got so blown out of proportion. But I can assure you all, I have never been dead, fake or otherwise."

Aziraphale smiled prettily while Justine huffed, turning her head away. Crowley could tell she didn't believe a word his angel had said but that she also desperately wanted to. So she would, she would believe this, she would accept this nonsensical explanation. Humans were strange like that. Mr. Brown, too, sat down after a moment of huffy silence.

His angel waited for a beat before he was nodding to himself, the matter apparently as good as closed to him.

"Well, if that is all-"

A heavily jewelled hand shot up in the air. Everyone turned to look at its owner.

"Hi, just a quick one. You know I'm not one to gossip-" A rumble of muttering stopped Mrs. Sandwich's words and Crowley would have grinned, if he wasn't too afraid of the woman. Mrs. Sandwich just tilted her head in assent and waved away the objection of the crowd. "Alright, alright, not much of a gossip anyway. But do you mean to tell us that your partner did not start off this relationship as your sugar baby? I am sorry, I know this is usually a very private matter, but I have personally heard him proclaim how much certain acts would cost you. Not to mention the fact he makes you pay for everything."

As funny as it was, and as much as Crowley had done everything to get to this point exactly, he almost groaned at her words. You make your spoiled-rotten angel pay one time and that's all people seem to remember, apparently.

Aziraphale turned to glare at the demon. Crowley couldn't even pretend to be remorseful. He held his angel's gaze, lips pulled into a smirk, eyebrows quirked up expectantly. It had been his angel's idea to confront their whole neighbourhood, all together like this, and Crowley truly had no idea what else he had expected. Or what to expect from his angel.

It turned out, gentle exasperation. The glare turned soft, the fingers in his grasp squeezed him tight. It was a look Crowley had seen a million times, a look that accompanied reprimands concerning the speed of his car or his horrible to the angel taste of music. It was a look that left him feeling flayed open, all his sins on display as Aziraphale looked on, still so very much in love.

His angel turned to the crowd with a sigh, a long suffering one that anyone who had found themselves unearthing their partner's questionable habits would be most familiar with. Of course, for most it meant finding out their partner ate with their mouth open or tended to clip their nails too close to the dining table for comfort. But Aziraphale didn't seem too bothered with his demon's perpetual need to be as chaotic as he could possibly be.

"Well, this demon of a man has known for a while exactly what everyone has been saying about the nature of our relationship. He has been having a terrible amount of fun with it. Perhaps, he ought to apologise for it."

"Perhaps," Crowley agreed, not once letting his eyes linger away from his angel. Or turn anything other than utterly besotted. Certainly not anything ridiculous as apologetic. It didn't matter really, because he could see from the corner of his eyes that Mrs. Sandwich was shrugging, a satisfied smirk on her face that did not fit the fact she had been proven wrong. Maybe she had wanted to be. Maybe she liked this version better.

Aziraphale kissed his hand again, his eyes shiny and so very pretty. Crowley loved him. Ridiculous and perfect and fussy and so insistent that the neighbourhood did not think Crowley was a law-breaking sugar baby.

"Any more questions?" Aziraphale asked, almost as an afterthought.

Crowley had just enough time to wince as a sea of hands shot up.

"That was," Mutt hesitated, casting a glance in Crowley's direction, "something."

Crowley couldn't help it, he laughed, head thrown back. It was easy to do, arm in arm with his angel, with Mutt and his spouse by his side, walking toward the bookshop, their bookshop. Their home. It was a nippy October night and yet, he couldn't have felt more warm.

"Trust the angel to announce our engagement in the most awkward way possible," Crowley teased, even as he leant to the side to rub their shoulders together. 

In the end, the meeting had focused entirely on Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship, the agenda long forgotten. It had been fun, trying to see how his angel could twist the truth in such a way that his words were not a lie, per se, but also did not include topics such as Heaven or Hell or the second coming. The answer was, surprisingly well. Crowley was extremely impressed and just as giddy, probably as a result of having spent the last hour of his life listening to how much his angel adored him. The flush on his cheeks was as much a result of those memories as the cold autumn air.

They reached the bookshop and Crowley glanced at Aziraphale, searching for something. It was a bit silly, asking for permission, when the bookshop was just as much his as it was Aziraphale's. His fiance's eyes told him as much, even as he squeezed at his elbow. A supportive gesture more than anything else. Crowley nodded to himself.

"Would you guys care for a nightcap?"