Chapter Text
Physical contact was not something they normally engaged on.
No matter how much they wanted to, there was an unspoken agreement. They couldn't afford either of their respective head offices catching them during anything remotely close to an intimate moment. They could barely afford someone finding them next to each other. But they would probably be able to figure out a way to pretend they were fighting or trying to sabotage each other if caught standing next to each other. Hand holding or even hugging was many times harder to explain.
A lot changed after the Armageddon-that-wasn't, though.
"You don't have a side, any more," Crowley reminded him, his voice somehow both gentle and firm. It was enough to ground Aziraphale, as if hearing Crowley next to him was the only thing keeping him from discorporating after the week they'd had. "Neither of us do. We're on our own side."
And they were, weren't they? They were finally free. Not bound by Heaven nor Hell. They had nothing to hide, any more, because there was no one to hide it from.
That's why, after a few minutes of contemplation, for the first time in 6000 years, Aziraphale chose to take the free seat next to Crowley on the bus. He chose to stand by his side 1, chose not to be afraid any longer. Taking Crowley's hand in his, giving it a quick but reaffirming squeeze, it was his promise of exactly that. He was over being afraid. He was embracing their own side.
Crowley's hand was somehow both freezing and sweating in between Aziraphale's warm palms. He didn't dare turn his head to look at the angel, couldn't possibly risk moving and breaking him out of his trance, realizing what he was doing and quickly drop his hand and change his seat. Instead, he spent the whole drive back in town trying to memorize the feeling of their palms pressed against each other. He tried to burn into his brain how, when Aziraphale gave his hand a particularly firm squeeze, he could almost feel his pulse through his fingers. How every time Aziraphale absent-mindedly run his thumb over his own, he could feel a current of goosebumps spreading through his entire body and he could swear he could sense every single hair on its trail stand to attention.
To Crowley's delight, Aziraphale's hold of his hand never loosened. Their fingers remained interlocked for the whole duration of the bus ride, until the driver, confused, already composing his report of the incident in his head, trying to figure out how to explain driving so far out of his route, pulled over at the stop outside Crowley's flat in Mayfair.
"Right, then." Crowley's voice came out a lot hoarser than he wanted, just like that ruining his plans to put on his cool facade. He tried subtly clearing his throat a couple of times, before speaking again. Also tried, for his own peace of mind, not to linger on the fact that even though he spoke and Aziraphale's blue eyes were now fixed on his face, their hands remained connected. "This is me." He pointed at the building with the dark grey concrete exterior, with his free hand.
Aziraphale left out a shaky breath and frantically nodded, no doubt bracing himself to spend the night at Crowley's flat, after finally accepting their own side.
Without a word, he stood up, gently tugging Crowley behind him by their still interlocked hands. Crowley was delighted. Couldn't for the life of him imagine himself not enjoying being dragged anywhere by the angel, if it meant he was free to hold on to his hand.
The angel didn't even falter at the main entrance, he pushed the door open and walked in, like he owned the place. For all that Crowley was concerned, he might as well own the whole block. He didn't care. All he cared about was the angel at his side, now holding onto his hand even more firmly than before.
It felt as if both were holding their breaths until the moment Crowley's front door closed behind them. Neither of them realized until that exact second, but they were officially safe. Even if it wasn't for their sides leaving them alone for a while -- pending their imminent punishment -- they were safe within the walls of the flat, thanks to a snap of both their fingers placing protective wards around the building.
The moment Crowley was dreading finally came, and Aziraphale let go of his hand. He didn't even have time to note how much he hated the sudden lack of the warmth Aziraphale's palm exuded, though, because two arms wrapped around his waist and held him tight.
Aziraphale hid his face in the crook of Crowley's neck who, feeling the angel's breath on his tender skin, couldn't hide the shiver that caused his whole body to shake, even if he wanted to. Tentatively, he raised his own arms and wrapped them around Aziraphale's shoulders, holding him even closer. He used his right hand, previously held by the angel, to gently cup the back of his head, trying to provide the same comfort he'd felt throughout the entire bus ride there.
After what felt like ages, Crowley decided they really should step away from the doorway. He hated himself for not being able to keep his mouth shut, let the angel get comfortable against him, but he knew they had to figure out a way to be able to embrace each other like this for the rest of time.
"Angel..."
He needn't say more, and suddenly he was cold again.
"I know, I know. There's still so much to do. I just- Crowley I really thought for a second that it was over." The angel's eyes were staring deep into his soul, as if his sunglasses weren't even there. "I've never been more afraid. And I want you to know-" he broke their eye contact, choosing to look anywhere but his own eyes. He was far too ashamed to look at him, right that second. He took a deep breath before taking the rest out of his chest, his eyes resting on a spot on the carpet. "My dear, I never meant what I said back there. I had complete faith in you that you wouldn't let me down. You never have."
All Crowley could do was wrap his arms around him again and, judging by the sigh tickling his neck, Aziraphale was more than satisfied with that response.
"Right, then," Aziraphale pulled away after a couple more minutes and tried to subtly wipe his eyes, but the glossiness betrayed he had cried a bit. "Time to get to work."
Crowley nodded, and silently led them to a previously somewhat empty space, that now -- after a quick snap of his fingers -- contained a very comfortable and velvety soft black couch. Aziraphale felt his heart fluttering at the sight of the creme pillows covered in red tartan lines, clearly contrasting with the aesthetic of the room. In an obvious attempt to thank Crowley for not commenting on his dried out tears, he didn't comment on the pillows but instead made himself comfortable, grabbing one of them to hold on to, to show his appreciation.
They spent most of the rest of the night trying to come up with a plan, testing different theories they came up with. At some point, whiskey became involved, making their ideas even sillier with every sip they swallowed. One of which consisted of the demon insisting that they could dress up as each other, claiming that the idiots that were their -- ex -- bosses of theirs wouldn't have a clue which is which.
"Wait- but- m'kay- gimme the tie, then, lemme prove-"
"Crowley, you can't possibly s'ggest-"
"I can, 'n' I am! Now gimme the dam' bow tie!"
"My bow tie is anything but damned, I'll have you know," Aziraphale noted, but set to undo the knot around his throat with shaky fingers.
Crowley fought not to trace the angel's fingers as they delicately and excruciatingly slowly loosened the knot, with every ounce of self restraint he could possibly muster. He lost that battle, almost immediately. Well, he thought, there are worse things in life. Crowley couldn't for the life of him think of anything else, but he knew his point still stood, regardless.
Aziraphale didn't seem to mind, only blushed a little, and in the boldness only good whiskey could provide him with, he let the untied, now, piece of fabric hang loose around his neck. His fingers then set to undo a couple buttons of his shirt, as he rolled his head back for a second, as if to stretch, knowingly providing a lovely sight for the demon. Judging by the wide yellow eyes staring at him when he raised his head again and finally passed the bow tie to Crowley's long forgotten outstretched awaiting hand, he didn't seem to mind the little show.
"Go on, then, show me." Aziraphale's voice came out a couple octaves lower than usual, which Crowley knew only happened when he was either too sure of himself or -- Satan help him -- somewhat flirty. Which never happened if he wasn't too sure of himself.
Crowley stared at the fabric in his fingers for a few seconds, blinking rapidly, trying to get his thoughts in order. It's just a little more skin, get it together, he kept repeating in his head. Truth is, he'd seen way more of the angel's skin through the years, and he was able to keep it together anyway. And he'd certainly been way more drunk back then. Huh. So that's what a bit of hand holding and a couple hugs will do to a demon that's been pining for the better part of 6000 years. Interesting.
With a final shake of his head to clear his thoughts as much as possible, he set to prove his point.
"Right, see- if- if- ...right." He started to form the knot around his own neck, and couldn't help but notice that Aziraphale was the one tracing his fingers this time. That certainly didn't help with neither the shaking of his fingers nor his voice. "We- we've known each other a long time-"
"How do you know how to do this?" The words left Aziraphale's mouth before he even had time to register them.
"Do- oh-" They were treading dangerous waters. Aziraphale didn't know it, couldn't, but Crowley had a lot of fantasies surrounding this tiny piece of fabric. Some of them, included him undoing the knot around Aziraphale's neck using just his teeth. He'd practised a lot. "I don't know, I- I must've picked it up. Seen you do it a couple of times- 's not that hard." For a demon, he really was a horrible liar where Aziraphale was concerned. That is to say, he'd found that he was unable to lie with as much ease as he was supposed to, when Aziraphale was looking at him like that.
Aziraphale didn't seem convinced, but the moment he saw his beige tartan bow tie beautifully wrapped around Crowley's neck, all thoughts left his mind in an instant. He couldn't possibly stop the fluttering in his chest at the lovely sight in front of him. A smile started to form on his lips, and then Crowley surprised him by attempting to do an impression.
"Gabriel, I honestly do not see why you would be upset," Crowley began, enunciating the final 't'. He straightened his spine and folded his hands on his lap, like the angel usually did. He changed his voice, too, making it as high as he could, deliberately exaggerating the posh that defined it. "I was simply trying to thwart that evil, distractingly handsome, brilliant, hilarious, definitely not nice" he added with a side glance directed towards Aziraphale, "demon, Crowley. 'S all tickety-boo!"
Aziraphale was now doubled over laughing, and Crowley's chest puffed proudly at the effect his little stunt had on him. If there was one thing Crowley was good at, was changing the topic of his feelings for Aziraphale and everything that came along with them, to safer ones.
"Oh-" Aziraphale's laughter abruptly died down, and Crowley couldn't hide the disappointment he felt. "We must choose our faces wisely," he recited, for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.
"Yeah, I know, what're you on about?"
"Don't you see? We can impersonate each other!"
"Angel, I was only kidding-"
"No, I don't mean wear each other's clothes, I mean wear each other's face." Crowley didn't seem to catch on as quickly as he'd hoped. "Oh, good Heavens, let's sober up first."
Both of them squinted and held their breaths until the bottles around them were full again.
"Right. What are you-" a look of realization passed Crowley's face. "You mean possess each others bodies?"
"Yes! Do you think that could work?"
"I mean, I don't know, possibly. Weren't you the one who said we couldn't? Angel, demon, probably explode and whatnot."
"Yes, well, maybe if we were both to inhabit one corporation. But you'd take mine and I'd take yours. I think it's worth a shot, don't you?" Aziraphale was looking up at him expectantly, the big blue eyes Crowley would rather be damned a second time than refuse, looking deep into his own.
"Are you sure?"
"Quite sure. Trust me, dear." Just like Crowley hadn't given Aziraphale reason to lose faith in him, Crowley knew he could trust Aziraphale with anything.
"I'm not sure I want you down there, angel. It's way more dangerous than you imagine. They won't hesitate to kill you, if you so much as look at them wrong."
"Oh, do give me more credit. I am well aware of the dangers in Hell. And I am stronger than you might realize, I'm perfectly capable of holding my own, as it where." Aziraphale formed quotation marks with his fingers at the use of the lovely human expression. If the situation was any different, Crowley might've smiled that besotted smile at the angel, but now the dread creeping up on him didn't allow him to enjoy the excitement in Aziraphale's face as he correctly used the expression.
But he was right, wasn't he? Just a few hours earlier he had stood ferociously against Satan himself, yielding his flaming sword proudly, when Crowley himself had been ready to give up.
"Fine. But if anything goes wrong, and I mean even the slightest thing-"
"We stop. Immediately. You have my word." Aziraphale's voice was low-pitched again, this time showcasing just how serious he was about all of it.
"Right, then. How do you want to go about it?"
"I believe we just have to-" Aziraphale offered his hand to the demon and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to take it. When he did, his smile turned coy, as if they hadn't spent the bus ride holding hands earlier. And as if he wasn't the one to initiate it then, too.
He closed his eyes and concentrated only on the long, cold fingers around his own, and Crowley did the same. It must have worked, because when they opened their eyes, they were both looking at their own face.
Delighted they weren't dead before Heaven and Hell even got their hands on them, they spent the rest of the night drinking again, trying to teach each other how to properly impersonate the other.
"We've known each other for ag's an' ag's, this should be waaay easier," Crowley whined when Aziraphale reprimanded him yet again on the way he was 'too fluid', whatever the Hell that meant. He didn't even know what he was doing wrong. He got his revenge, though, because when it was Aziraphale's turn to learn how to walk like Crowley, he accused him of 'having a stick too far up his arse' and suggested he 'let go a bit, enjoy that body'.
When they were somewhat certain they could pass as each other, as long as their ex-bosses didn't look into their movements too closely, they connected their hands again and returned to their respective bodies.
"Oh, that is much better." Aziraphale moaned in relief, and Crowley knew -- he knew it, damn it, but Someone help him, he couldn't possibly bring himself to care -- he shouldn't like it as much as he did, what with their impending doom a few hours away, and everything.
Crowley let his body relax, stretching on the newly added couch, making him seem more liquid than ever. So that's what he meant, too fluid. Go figure.
"I really think this might work," Aziraphale spoke after a moment of silence, his voice not indicating as much certainty as he'd like it to.
"It will. We can do this," Crowley replied, slowly taking the angel's hand back in his own and giving him a small smile. That electric shock from earlier was back, and Crowley could swear he felt every single cell on his body startle at the feeling, as if it was the very first time again.
Aziraphale returned the smile and squeezed his hand, and they fell quiet yet again. They had gone through so many things together. Wars, deaths, fights, revolutions. From the smallest, most insignificant blessing of some random old lady at the park, to the most intricate temptation of the Roman Emperor. They'd been through it all together, although, if you were to ask Aziraphale at any point before recently, he would have adamantly refused to know the "strange man" standing next to him, whom he'd spent the last hour making heart eyes to and laughing with.
And Crowley never pushed for more. Sure, he'd pushed Aziraphale daily and tested his boundaries, but he rarely, if ever, asked for more than Aziraphale was willing to give him. He wasn't even worth the Almighty's unconditional love, why would he deserve Aziraphale's friendship? So, days went on, and Crowley squeezed every moment the angel literally blessed him with his company, longing for any additional second he got to have with his oldest friend.
And so, now that Aziraphale showed him he was willing- no- he was asking for more physical contact, he was more than delighted to give it to him. So he held on to the angel's hand as if his life depended on it. And, apparently, it did.
Exhaustion must have caught up with both of them at some point, because Aziraphale closed his eyes for what he thought was a second, but the next time he opened them and looked at his watch, he noted it was just after 5 a.m., meaning he had fallen asleep for at least 2 hours. He'd only slept a handful of times over his existence, and always woke up feeling discombobulated and out of sync with everything. Not this time, though. He relished in the feeling of his cheek brushing up against the velvety soft couch, and the warmth of the demon next to him feeling like fire against his side.
Turning to his left, he found Crowley's head awkwardly resting on the back of the couch, and as much as Aziraphale liked the view of his exposed neck, he gently untangled their -- still interlocked (!) -- fingers and grabbed one of the beige pillows with the tartan red stripes and slowly, as to not wake him, raised the demon's head and placed it underneath, before lowering his head once again.
When he was certain Crowley was still asleep, he delicately brushed a few stray strands of hair from his forehead, and placed an ever-so-soft kiss on the newly exposed patch of skin there. Crowley seemed to realize what he did in his sleep, because he stirred a bit and Aziraphale swooned, noticing the faintest smile on his lips.This was going to work. It had to. He wasn't ready to give up on their side, yet.
1. He stood by his side, by sitting next to him. The irony wasn't lost on him. Back to the story we go!