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“Go? You can’t really be going!” Aziraphale didn’t want to believe it.
“I have to, angel. Don’t have a choice. You heard Alpha Gabriel. We have to be out of the forest within 72 hours.”
“But…but we…you’re my best friend! I need you!” Aziraphale’s scent turned acrid from anger and despair He had spent most of the summer admiring his friend’s beauty, noticing how his nascent alpha traits were making him even more handsome. The intricacies of mating were still foreign to him, but he longed to explore them with Crowley when the time came. Was he really losing Crowley forever instead?
The red-haired boy had first caught Aziraphale’s eye when they were pups. He’d been in wolf form, chasing a frog and completely oblivious to how far he was from camp. That’s when he crashed into a red-haired shapeshifter, also in wolf form, lying on his back.
“See that star there?” Crowley’s paw gestured upwards, but Aziraphale couldn’t tell what star he was referring to. Still, he nodded politely. “Well, it’s actually two stars. Alpha Centauri. I can show you how to see them with your wolf eyes, if you’d like.”
“That would be lovely!” Aziraphale said, forgetting all about the frog. “By the way, I’m Aziraphale.”
“Crowley. Favorite son of Alpha Lucinda.” Everyone knew Lucinda’s pack. The beautiful golden haired wolf had a fierce temper, but those who joined her pack were deeply loyal to her.
“Favorite son? Is that why you’re out here by yourself?”
“I like being out here by myself. Looking at the stars,” Crowley said, a bit too defensively.
“If you say so.” Aziraphale lay down next to the other pup and tried to follow his instructions for seeing this double star, but he couldn’t quite see it. Maybe the other shapeshifter’s golden eyes were sharper than his own. Aziraphale rarely actually saw the stars Crowley pointed out, but that didn’t matter, not when he could watch Crowley light up as he talked about them.
They’d orbited each other ever since, seeking the other out in every spare moment. The thought of becoming true mates had started as a joke. If we’re bound mates, we’d never have to say goodbye and go back to our own packs. We’d be our own pack! But as they’d gotten older, it had morphed into a real desire. Aziraphale hadn’t presented yet, but he was showing the signs of becoming an omega, and his heart yearned to one day wear Crowley’s mating bite. Crowley had said they were like Alpha Centauri, two stars, so close that they appeared as one.
But now Crowley was saying that they would have to separate entirely and not even be friends, let alone mates. Aziraphale was still a bit fuzzy on how the Great War between Alpha Gabriel and Alpha Lucinda’s pack had started, how once dear friends had torn at each other’s throats, but the end result was clear. Gabriel’s pack had won, and Lucinda’s was to retreat to the Southern Lands, hot and dry and treeless.
“I got something for you.” Crowley held out a gold chain with a star hanging in the middle. “A star for you, angel.” He unbuttoned his own shirt, and Aziraphale struggled not to stare at the shapely muscles forming there, the hint of chest hair. “Mine’s silver, but it has a star just like yours. Two stars, orbiting each other. You and me.”
“A courtship gift? But…you’re leaving!”
“I know,” Crowley said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re the only one I want to court. Ever.” Aziraphale struggled to breathe as the alpha fastened the necklace around his neck. “Even orbiting stars have to be far apart sometimes. But they’ll always be pulled back together.”
“You’ll come back for me?” Aziraphale asked, his voice full of hope.
Crowley nodded. “It might be a long time, though. I’ll have to go with my mother’s pack as far as I can. But one day, I’ll be big and strong enough to break free. And I’ll find you. As long as you’re wearing my star.” Crowley sealed the promise with a kiss. Their first kiss. It was as gentle and sweet as Aziraphale had dreamt it would be, even if the circumstances were less so. Aziraphale wanted to pull Crowley close and deepen the kiss, but that would only delay the inevitable. They broke apart, eyes both filled with tears.
“It’s beautiful,” Aziraphale said, breaking the silence, grasping the star on his neck. “I’ll wear it forever.”
Unfortunately, Aziraphale couldn’t wear it forever. No one paid his neck any mind at first, but after his presentation heat, he was under pressure to find a mate and couldn’t wear such adornments until he was claimed. He hadn’t enjoyed courting any of the pack’s potential alphas. None of them smelled like woodsmoke and petrichor and cinnamon and home. Still, he’d smiled and nodded and endured their posturing, keeping his necklace hidden inside a hollowed-out book in his nest.
Crowley sent many letters in that first year. Aziraphale, of course, eagerly responded back. But after his presentation heat, his letters were very closely monitored, as was typical for young unmated omegas. An omega exchanging correspondence with an unworthy mate was a mortal sin in the eyes of the pack elders, and after the Great War, there was little chance of convincing them that Crowley would still be a worthy mate. Aziraphale did receive some letters after he presented, but they were more sporadic and eventually stopped arriving at all. Aziraphale tried to accept this as a natural consequence of growing up and leading separate lives, but he couldn’t stop himself from writing to Crowley entirely. He merely kept it in his diary, addressing Crowley as if he intended to send his missives into the desert, but ultimately leaving them safely unsent.
He heard that Lucinda’s alpha prince was courting through semi-official back channels, but obviously, no omegas from Gabriel’s pack would be considered. Selfishly, Aziraphale hoped that none of these potential mates would appeal to Crowley, that he would keep a boyhood promise in mind and reject them all. It was foolish and illogical to daydream like this; Crowley had stopped writing, and so was probably building his promising future without Aziraphale in mind. Aziraphale tried his best to do the same, to seriously consider each alpha he was presented on their own merits without comparing them to a childhood memory. But even so, he had standards, and none of the alphas met them. The alphas seemed to agree, each of them rejecting him after a few dates. One by one, each of Aziraphale’s omega peers was claimed, and he stood alone.
After every eligible alpha had rejected Aziraphale, the pack wasn’t sure what to do with him. As an omega, his traditional role in the pack would be to find an alpha and bear their young, but if he was unsuitable for that, what was he good for? The pack assigned him various tasks to fill his days, but it was clear that he was still perceived as defective, that no level of service to the pack would atone for his failure to find a mate as an omega should. By the time he was twenty-five, Aziraphale was tired of it. Whatever Crowley was up to these days, neither he nor anyone else was going to swoop in and rescue him from the drudgery of his adult life. It was time for him to make his own plans.
“What would you say to me going into Londinium?” he asked Alpha Gabriel one day.
“The human city? But why? The humans bring us everything we need from them.” The pack might interact with humans through trading furs and meat in exchange for human-made goods and technology, but generally, shapeshifters stayed in their packs and humans in their cities. It was rare for a pack member to explore human life by moving to the bustling coastal city, but not completely unheard of. Though as far as Aziraphale could recall, no omegas had ever done so, only alphas and betas.
“Well, yes, but…if we have an ambassador to the human world, we can teach them about us, and they’ll give us better things as a result. It would benefit the entire pack.” Aziraphale hoped his justification would work, however flimsy.
“Interesting idea. You’re awfully clever, for an omega.” It didn’t sound like a compliment coming from Gabriel.
A few days later, Alpha Gabriel gave his verdict: he would let Aziraphale go and would even give him a modest stipend in exchange for monthly reports on how well educating the humans was going. Aziraphale wondered if Gabriel would even bother to read the reports or if he would just be happy that the pack’s least desirable omega had something to do that kept him far away. But no matter. He packed quickly, before Gabriel could change his mind, and paid the next human trading boat to take him into Londinium. The traders pointed him to a neighborhood called Soho, saying it would be more friendly to outsiders than some other parts of town.
Once he made it to Soho, he stumbled upon a curious looking shop. Anathema’s Devices, Curiosities, and Witchcraft Supplies, the sign said, adorned with various occult symbols. A necklace of animal teeth hung above the door, an ancient human superstition that was thought to protect them from “werewolves.” It had no effect upon Aziraphale.
“Hello? Is anyone here in this fine establishment?” He looked around at the shelves of antique oddities, books of prophecy, crystals, and tarot decks. Perhaps he should have been worried about the amulets that claimed to repel his kind, along with vampires (which he’d never encountered, but that didn’t mean they didn’t exist), but something about this shop felt welcoming, like a cup of afternoon tea.
There was a rustle behind the cash register. A young woman’s face emerged, previously hidden by a copy of The New Aquarian with a drawing of Atlantis on the cover. She looked up at him with startled brown eyes framed by thick-rimmed spectacles. “May I help you?”
“Yes, I’m here to inquire about–”
“Oh, my God.” The woman’s eyes grew wide, and she grasped for something under the register. Aziraphale found himself face to face with a very old-looking revolver. “Stay back, werewolf. I’ve got a silver bullet, and I’m not afraid to use it.”
“Oh, that won’t do anything, I’m afraid.” Technically, this was incorrect. A silver bullet would probably kill him as effectively as a standard one. But he hoped he wasn’t about to find out. He held his hands up to show that he had no weapons on him. “I promise I’m not here to harm you. I was merely curious about this little shop.”
“Curious, huh?” She squinted and looked at him. “Well, your aura is…odd, which is how I know you’re a werewolf, but it doesn’t seem angry. You’re…searching for something.”
“Yes. I’ve been sent to learn more about the ways of your kind. Perhaps we can form an Arrangement?”
“What do you mean, an Arrangement?” The woman lowered the gun, but didn’t set it down yet.
“Well, I was thinking, perhaps I could get a job here, learning from such a charming young lady as yourself all about the ways of humankind here in this lovely shop.” His stipend would be enough to live on, but getting a job would help him integrate into city life and have a financial cushion. “And in return, I can teach you everything you ever wished to know about shapeshifters. We actually don’t prefer the term “werewolf,” as that implies our forms are some sort of involuntary affliction.”
The shopkeeper stayed still for a moment, then finally decided to set the gun down. “Well, it’s not exactly busy, but I could use an assistant to help keep things in order.”
“Oh, you’ll find I’m quite orderly. Now, tell me dear, are you the Anathema on the shop sign?”
The woman nodded. “Anathema Device, at your service.” She shook his hand, which felt oddly cool. Aziraphale knew that shapeshifters tended to have a higher body temperature than humans, but this was the first time he’d felt it for himself.
“Pleasure to meet you, Anathema. I’m Aziraphale.”
“Well, would you look at that? Two different species, and yet both of our families were fond of obscure religious names that begin with A!”
“Quite a coincidence,” Aziraphale agreed. And thus began his new start in life as assistant shopkeeper to an occultist.
The next year passed by in a blur. Aziraphale spent most days creating some semblance of an organizational system for the shop and fielding Anathema’s endless questions. He diligently sent monthly reports of his activity to the pack, but never received a reply. Anathema helped him find a flat near the shop. The landlord was eccentric, and thought Aziraphale being a shapeshifter working with a self-proclaimed witch was suspicious, but so long as his money was genuine, Aziraphale had a place to stay. He got to know the humans in Anathema’s orbit: her boyfriend Newt, who was oddly straight-laced for a witch’s companion, her neighbor Tracy, who was the very opposite of straight-laced and held a great number of professions (Newt had advised Aziraphale not to ask for details), and the other shopkeepers of Whickber Street.
One lovely Saturday morning, Aziraphale was manning the shop on his own, as Anathema and Newt had gone to the beach for the day. Customers trickled in because Whickber Street was bustling, but ultimately decided that today was not the ideal day for dwelling on occult curiosities. Aziraphale was dusting some shelves and thinking about taking a long lunch when the antique shop bell rang.
“Aziraphale?” A deep voice asked while Aziraphale’s back was still turned.
This was odd. Aziraphale mostly kept to himself, so he didn’t have a lot of people asking for him by name. Still, he was a professional shopkeeper’s assistant, so he responded. “Aziraphale Fell, assistant shopkeeper of Anathema’s Devices, Curiosities, and Witchcraft Supplies, at your service.”
He turned around to see the source of the inquiry. The man was long and lean, clad in all black with dark glasses and a familiar shock of red hair. The serpent tattoo on his temple was a typical facial adornment of the alphas of the Southern packs. For the first time in ten years, Crowley was right in front of him. Aziraphale’s heart stopped. Unable to locate the proper words to greet his long-lost childhood love, Aziraphale defaulted to his customer service training. “Um…how may I be of service?”
Crowley looked at him, mouth open. Though Aziraphale couldn’t see his gorgeous eyes beneath those silly glasses, they probably looked as stunned as he felt. “Fuck. It really is you,” he said. After a moment of silence, he adopted a wry smile, approached the shelf of books of prophecy that Aziraphale had just finished dusting, and held out his hand. “And I’m Anthony J. Crowley, proud owner of what used to be a record shop over the road. And I’ll service you any time you like.”
Blushing from the innuendo, Aziraphale held out his hand. “Crowley. It’s…quite a surprise to see you. Did you just say you’re opening a shop?” Maggie had been running the record shop her great-grandmother had started many years ago, but it hadn’t been doing very well. Aziraphale had heard she’d sold the shop and was using the proceeds to buy a stake in her girlfriend Nina’s coffee shop, but he hadn’t yet had the chance to meet the new shop owner. Given Crowley’s boyhood impatience and often surly attitude with pups other than Aziraphale, he had trouble seeing him as a successful shopkeeper, but stranger things had happened.
“The Wolves’ Den: Intimate Books and Wares for the Discerning Gentlemen. Figured if the humans already think we’re sex-crazed beasts, might as well make some money off of it.”
“I suppose.” Aziraphale’s blush grew deeper. He had, of course, heard the vile rhetoric some humans spewed against his kind, that due to their heats and ruts they would be uncontrollable when faced with a tempting human, but in this neighborhood, even Shadwell thought that was a load of nonsense. This pansy? Seducin’ wimmin?! his landlord had shouted in disbelief once, pointing at Aziraphale, when he was especially inebriated.
“Yeah, so I got a good deal on the building and jumped on the opportunity to finally get away from my pack. And then I heard there was a blond, bookish shapeshifter working in an occultist’s shop. I didn’t know for sure it was you, but I hoped it was. Even if I did stop getting replies to my letters.”
“You…you stopped sending them, didn’t you?” All this time, he’d assumed Crowley had lost interest. Had it really been his own pack keeping them apart, treating him as too infantile to maintain even a friendly correspondence with an alpha from a rival pack? It’s not as if he had said anything untoward in his letters. Neither had Crowley, at least not in the letters he had received, that he still kept in his nest. He scowled, briefly entertaining a vengeful fantasy of confronting Alpha Gabriel about this directly. But he knew that wouldn’t end well in reality. Right now, he was free from his pack, and he might just have his dear friend back. No sense in souring the moment by being angry about the past.
Crowley shook his head. “I had a feeling they weren’t making it to their intended destination. I know how your pack is about about ‘protecting the sanctity of our young innocent omegas.’” He made a face along with the air quotes. “But I still sent them, at least a few times a year. I knew it was possible that you didn’t want them, that you fell head over heels for some alpha and forgot all about your old friend, but I didn’t think so. Too much of an optimist, I guess.”
“You always were,” Aziraphale said wistfully. Was Crowley really worried that Aziraphale had found someone else? Had he kept his promise about not courting anyone else after all? Don’t be ridiculous, Aziraphale, he chastised himself. Given what sort of establishment he was running, surely he’d courted scores of omegas and gotten into all sorts of lurid escapades.
Crowley bent over and looked into the absurdly large crystal ball on a display table, waving his hands around it. “I see in your future…lunch with an old friend.” He laughed and looked back up at Aziraphale. “I mean, if you’re up for it. We have a lot to catch up on, don’t we, angel?”
Angel. It had been so long since he’d heard Crowley say that. Aziraphale beamed. “I was just thinking now would be an excellent time to get some nibbles. Give me a few moments to close the shop and then we can go over to Nina’s place.”
“Did you really just call lunch ‘nibbles?’ Good to know you’re still absolutely ridiculous.” Crowley stuck his hands in his absurdly tiny trouser pockets and paced around the shop waiting for Aziraphale.
“I’m ridiculous? You just used a crystal ball to ask me out on a—” Aziraphale caught himself before he said date. Just because Crowley wanted to catch up with an old friend did not mean he was having romantic thoughts about said friend. “—out to lunch.”
Still, Aziraphale’s heart was racing as he put up the “CLOSED” sign and locked up. He could scarcely believe that Crowley was really here. How many times had he dreamed of this? Could he be certain he wasn’t dreaming? He wasn’t sure what would happen next, but like Crowley, he wanted to be optimistic.
After closing up the shop, they strolled over the road to Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death. “Isn’t she charming?” Crowley remarked after a grumpy Nina took their orders. He waited for their drinks and food while Aziraphale went to find a table.
The moment Aziraphale sat down, a man he did not want to be sharing a table with approached him. “Mr. Fell! We missed you last week at the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeepers Association meeting!” Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets said. The carpet salesman was absurdly cheerful, at least when Aziraphale was around. Anathema thought Mr. Brown had a bit of a pash on him. Aziraphale was less convinced. Mr. Brown surely knew of his form and the difficulties that would ensue from engaging in a cross-species relationship. Not that Aziraphale had any interest in learning about said difficulties firsthand. No human had ever caught his eye. No, in those rare moments where he dared to dream of having a mate and a family of his own, his mind went where it always had, to a shock of red hair, eyes of gold, a boyhood promise, and a farewell kiss. Aziraphale glanced over at Crowley, still waiting for their drinks. Could that dream really be coming true? Slow down, Aziraphale, he told himself. He wasn’t yet certain that Crowley even still wanted to be more than friends.
“Sorry I missed it. Wasn’t feeling well,” he said to Mr. Brown. Technically, his presence wasn’t actually required at the meetings, as he was merely a shopkeeper’s assistant, but he usually liked to go with Anathema anyway. He really had had an upset stomach. Anathema told him he should have listened to his horoscope and avoided salads.
“Oh, right, full moon. I’ll be more careful scheduling next time.”
Aziraphale rolled his eyes and was about to explain for the hundredth time that shapeshifter phasing does not depend on the moon when Crowley came up behind Mr. Brown.
“Hello,” Crowley said, his stance in full posturing mode. Aziraphale couldn’t help but think that he looked like an alpha defending his mate, even though he’d only been back in Aziraphale’s life for less than an hour. The display made Aziraphale very thirsty, but not for coffee.
“Oh, Mr. Crowley. Lovely to see you again. Have you thought about what carpet you’d like for your shop?”
“Haven’t decided yet. I’ll let you know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an old friend here to catch up with.”
The mustached man’s eyes darted between Aziraphale and Crowley. “You two know each other? I mean, I knew you were both…” he gestured vaguely, as if saying the word “shapeshifter” was taboo in its own right, “...but I didn’t want to assume you were all acquainted.”
“Oh, we go back a long time!” Aziraphale said.
“We sure do! We’ll see you around, Mr. Brown! Ciao.” The carpet salesman quickly left his seat, and Crowley took his, sprawling his legs out in a sinful manner. Aziraphale couldn’t help but think of Crowley’s quip about servicing him earlier. How would those long limbs look wrapped around him? Too fast, he chided himself again. It was wisest for him to simply be grateful Crowley was back in his life as a friend and fellow shopkeeper.
As they ate, Aziraphale recounted the story of his failed courtships and how he convinced Alpha Gabriel to let him become an ambassador to Londinium.
“Selling trinkets in a witch’s shop. Truly the most sophisticated form of diplomacy,” Crowley drawled, amused.
“Says the one making trouble by selling…” Aziraphale lowered his voice, “intimate goods.”
“You can say sex shop, angel.” Aziraphale started blushing furiously at hearing the word sex from Crowley’s lips again. He’d had desires during his heats, fueled by imagining what Crowley would look like as an adult alpha. The reality of the alpha before him certainly surpassed his expectations. Aziraphale must be disappointing in comparison, all pudgy and soft and stuffy. If Crowley really had hoped to see him as more than a friend, he likely didn’t now.
“You’re so pretty when you blush,” Crowley said, as if he could hear Aziraphale’s thoughts.
“Me, pretty?” The compliment made Aziraphale blush some more.
“Pretty and clever. Just how I like my omegas,” Crowley said with a smirk. “Makes me want to see how far down that blush goes.” Crowley’s glasses slid down as he peered at Aziraphale, showing a flash of familiar gold.
Aziraphale gulped. Did Crowley truly desire him? Or was he just flirting to show off his alpha prowess? Aziraphale should preserve his dignity and resist, but all of his instincts were telling him to roll over and present and beg please, take me, alpha like he was in one of his old-fashioned romance novels.
In his nervousness, he glanced around and saw something out of the window that saved him for the moment. “Ah, I really ought to get back to the shop now. I see some customers trying to get in.”
Crowley looked at his watch, which looked absurdly expensive. “We have been here a while, haven’t we? Tell you what, angel. Why don’t you go play dedicated shopkeeper for a few hours, then I’ll swing by at closing time and take you to dinner?”
“That sounds lovely!” Aziraphale beamed. He still couldn’t be certain of Crowley’s motives. Perhaps this was all some strange game the alpha was playing. But for now, he let himself be swept up in the rush of being courted by the only alpha he had ever wanted.
They walked back over to Anathema’s shop, then Crowley pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek before leaving him. Aziraphale could feel the tingling on his cheek the whole rest of the afternoon. As with the morning shift, he had several people wander into the shop, but very few sales. He wasn’t the most helpful, given how preoccupied he was by the feeling of Crowley’s lips against his cheek and thoughts of their dinner date that evening and what might transpire afterward. Still, he did his duty and kept the shop open.
After helping the last customer a few minutes before closing time, Aziraphale saw a note underneath the till. I see good omens in your love life this weekend, Anathema had scrawled, along with some astrological symbols and explanation that supposedly backed up her proclamation. Could the planets really have foreseen this? “Oh, I do hope you’re right, dear,” Azirapahle muttered to himself as he looked in the mirror, combing his unruly hair as best he could.
Crowley was highly punctual, showing up just moments after Aziraphale closed the till and reset the shop for the evening. He had apparently spent the afternoon primping his crimson locks into a pompadour and finding an even more sleek black outfit with a leather waistcoat and turtleneck. Aziraphale’s heart flip-flopped and his stomach was in knots. He looked down at his blue dress suit and khaki pants; oddly sensible for a man who worked for an occultist, but Anathema’s spells had yet to alter his fashion sense. Perhaps he should postpone their date to go home and find something more impressive to wear. Did he own anything more impressive?
“You look fine, angel. Very…you. And I’ve missed you.” Crowley’s casual proclamation made Aziraphale’s heart swoop again. Had Crowley really missed him so much, despite the near-infinite amount of friends and romantic partners he’d surely had?
They walked over to Justine’s bistro hand in hand. How did holding Crowley’s hand feel so right and natural despite having reunited only a few hours earlier? What if things had gone differently, if there had been no Great War and they’d been allowed to become mates when they presented? In that version of the story, they would have held hands a thousand times by now. Crowley’s hand in his would be a gentle, familiar warmth, not a strange new sensation igniting the blaze of desire and perhaps foolish hope Aziraphale felt now.
Once seated, they shared a bottle of red wine. Aziraphale asked Crowley how he’d come to move to Londinium.
“I was bored of wandering around the desert, so I told Mum I wanted to come into the city and make some trouble. She certainly preferred that over having an un-mateable alpha hanging around irritating the hell out of everyone.”
“You? Un-mateable?” Aziraphale started reconsidering his assumptions from earlier. Could Crowley really somehow be undesirable to other omegas?
“Oh, it wasn’t for lack of trying, angel. At least on my mum’s part. She set me up with everyone. Furfur, Shax, Beelzebub. Even Ligur, though he’s been sweet on Hastur since they were pups. They’re finally getting married this year. It’ll be in a graveyard. Lurking encouraged. Can’t say I see the appeal, but I’m happy for them.”
“Me too.” Aziraphale didn’t exactly have fond memories of Crowley’s pack mates, but it seemed impolite to wish ill on a pair of childhood sweethearts right in front of your own. Had Crowley truly resisted all potential mates because of the promise he’d made over a decade ago? It was a romantic notion, but probably inaccurate. Given his profession, he’d surely bedded an omega or two, even if he never fully committed to them. The thought made Aziraphale feel jealous, illogical as that was.
They kept talking as their meal arrived. Now that the shock of finding each other again had passed, the conversation flowed naturally; in some ways, it was like no time had passed at all. No one knew Aziraphale like Crowley did. Perhaps that was his own fault, not letting anyone else in, but then again, no one in his old-fashioned, judgmental pack ever seemed worthy of his trust. Childhood Crowley might have gotten into a lot of mischief, but he’d always made Aziraphale feel safe, and the passing years hadn’t changed that feeling.
“You know, I’m lucky your pack is full of idiots,” Crowley said as the waiter cleared their plates.
“Why do you say that?” Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to agree with Crowley’s assessment out loud.
“They all courted such a pretty omega and somehow found him lacking? Pure stupidity. But their loss is my gain.”
“You really think I’m pretty?” Aziraphale had trouble believing it despite Crowley’s earlier declaration. He’d always been on the softer side, but he’d put on more weight in the past year from city life, not running and hunting for his food. “You’re not…disappointed by how I look now?”
Crowley growled, not too loudly as they were surrounded by humans, but enough to make Aziraphale want to fall into his embrace as soon as possible. “Furthest thing from it, angel. Look at you, you’re gorgeous.” Crowley reached across the table and caressed Aziraphale’s face. The touch felt electric, the way the romance novels said an alpha’s touch was supposed to feel. Aziraphale wanted more of it. Then Crowley kissed him on the lips for the second time ever, which was even more electric. It was brief, as they were in public, but Aziraphale could sense the passion behind it, the same desire he felt.
“Ready to take this somewhere more private, angel?”
The combination of the wine and the compliments from the beautiful alpha were making Aziraphale feel more flirtatious than ever before. “Does the sex-crazed beast wish to take me to his lair and ravish me?”
Crowley grinned. “Only if the bookish angelic omega wishes to be ravished. I’m not actually a sex-crazed beast, you know. Well, a bit in rut I suppose, but that’s a good few months away.” Aziraphale gulped, imagining Crowley in rut, driven by the all-consuming need to possess and mate. Would he want Aziraphale there? Aziraphale’s omega instincts certainly hoped so. “My new flat above the shop is dark and minimalist. I guess you could call it lair-like,” Crowley continued, unaware of Aziraphale’s reverie.
“Well then, lead the way, alpha.”
They walked to Crowley’s flat hand in hand, Aziraphale’s heart pounding through his chest. He was beginning to accept that Crowley truly desired him, but he still feared he might disappoint once Crowley realized how inexperienced he truly was. He’d shared a few mediocre kisses with the alphas who’d courted him, but nothing further, though he had used the sort of implements Crowley’s shop would be selling on himself during heats.
Finally, after what felt like an eternally long walk up the stairs, Crowley opened the door to his flat. It had dark grey walls and little furnishings, but Aziraphale was hardly concerned with interior decorating. Crowley pulled him close for another kiss the second the door closed. Their first proper kiss, Aziraphale mused, with none of the sadness of their long-ago farewell kiss nor the restraint of the one in the restaurant. His prior experiences with kissing, such as they were, felt nothing like this. Crowley kissed open mouthed, as if trying to devour him, and Aziraphale wanted to be devoured.
“Fuck, angel, you smell so good. Taste so good,” Crowley said, breaking the kiss for a moment to set his sunglasses down on the countertop. Finally, Aziraphale was able to see his eyes.
“So do you.” Aziraphale buried his nose in Crowley’s spicy and earthy musk. He’d scented it as a child, but it was much more potent now that Crowley was a grown alpha, and an aroused one at that. This is your mate, Aziraphale’s omega instincts were screaming at him. He tried to shut them down, reminding himself that it was far too soon for such thoughts, but instincts were not shut down that easily.
“Can’t wait to have you in my bed, angel. Want to take care of you. Make you feel good.”
“Oh, please, alpha.”
They made it to the bed, Aziraphale trembling with a combination of excitement and nerves. As Crowley attempted to unbutton Aziraphale’s shirt, his fingers fumbled. Were his hands trembling? Perhaps Azirapahle wasn’t the only one who was nervous.
“You know, I thought a sex crazed wolf beast would have found his way around a few shirt buttons by now.” Aziraphale teased. This shirt was a bit old-fashioned, but its age made it well-worn and the buttons easily undone, at least by his own fingers.
“Taking off someone else’s shirt is harder than it looks.” Crowley said, keeping his eyes trained on the shirt button that was resisting all attempts to be unbuttoned.
Aziraphale moved Crowley’s hands away and undid the button himself. “Well, I suppose I’ve never tried, but surely once you’ve done it a few times, it becomes easier.” Perhaps none of Crowley’s previous paramours had worn shirts with so many buttons. Or…well, it was a preposterous thought, but Aziraphale decided to voice it anyway. “Unless…have you not done this before?”
Crowley looked up at Aziraphale, then back down at the buttons. He shook his head. “I did tell you I was un-mateable.”
“Well, yes, I gathered that you hadn’t found a long term partner, but given what sort of shop you’re running…and you did say you were a sex crazed beast when you're in rut.”
Crowley looked down at Aziraphale’s hands, taking them in his. “Yeah, I thought about spending my ruts with someone to take the edge off, but I…” he trailed off, then looked into Aziraphale’s eyes and took a deep breath. “...I couldn’t do it with someone who wasn’t my mate. Not that I’m judging anyone who does. It just didn’t feel right to me.”
Aziraphale was breathless, stunned by the implication. He’d been trying to manage his expectations all day, trying not to go too fast by thinking about being mates when he’d assumed his friend was just after a fling. Did Crowley truly want what he did? He started nervously entwining his fingers with Crowley’s. “But…having me here, like this, does feel right?”
Crowley nodded slightly, then leaned in and pressed his forehead against Aziraphale’s. “Well technically, it’s a bit soon for a mating bite, but I’ve never wanted anyone else.” He kissed Aziraphale again, soft and hopeful, a parallel to one bestowed long ago.
“Me neither,” Aziraphale confessed, feeling suddenly weightless. Crowley truly wanted him, not just as a friend or lover, but as a mate! He really had kept his promise. Aziraphale brought his hand to his neck, revealing the gold chain that hung there. He’d started wearing it again in Londinium, knowing the humans wouldn’t think anything of it.
“You kept it on? This whole time?” Crowley pulled back a bit, mouth agape.
“Yes,” Aziraphale said. “Well, not technically, you know my pack's rules about un-mated omegas and jewelry. But I always kept it close. And I can wear it out here, since the humans don’t know or care what it means.”
Crowley took off the thin necktie he’d been wearing and revealed his own matching silver necklace. “Well, I suppose it worked, didn’t it? You wore my star, and I found you.”
Aziraphale laughed. “I suppose it did.” With that, they found each other’s lips again, their bodies seeking the closeness they had been deprived of. Each kiss and touch felt even more delicious now that Aziraphale knew Crowley wanted the same thing he did, that this truly was his alpha, his mate.
Aziraphale helped Crowley undo his shirt buttons a bit faster. Crowley’s own clothing was simpler in comparison; his jacket was already removed, and his leather waistcoat had only a few buttons, leaving just the turtleneck to tug off. Soon, they were both bare from the waist up. The sight of Crowley’s lean muscles left Aziraphale breathless. He looked down at his own soft body, still struggling to accept the contrast.
“What’s wrong?” Crowley asked.
“Nothing. Just…you’re so beautiful. Do you really want me?”
“Of course! You calling me a liar, angel?”
“No. I just…I’ve gotten a bit soft since you last saw me, haven’t I? Too much good human food.”
“I liked watching you eat good human food at dinner. You look like you were made to eat everything your alpha can hunt for you, my sweet omega.” From anyone else, Aziraphale would have scoffed at being reduced to his designation, but Crowley said it like an endearment. “You were made to be soft. Made to be held and protected and claimed by me.” Aziraphale whimpered. It was all he’d ever wanted to hear during his lonely heats, desperately working a toy inside him as he imagined Crowley was there. Now it was real.
“Speaking of claiming…hang on a moment.” Crowley climbed off of Aziraphale and went rummaging for something in his nightstand. He pulled out condoms, lube (which Aziraphale was certain they wouldn’t need, feeling the slick forming in his trousers), and a rubber thing wrapped in plastic, which he stuck in his mouth.
“A mouth guard,” he explained, “so I can bite to my heart’s content without doing anything permanent. If you’ll allow me, that is.”
“Please, alpha.” Aziraphale’s inner omega insisted the precaution wasn’t necessary, that he’d already waited years for a mating bite, but it was probably a sensible choice to wait until the moment was right.
Crowley popped the mouth guard in, then returned to his task of undressing Aziraphale. He had an easier time with the trousers than the shirt. Soon, Aziraphale was naked in front of his alpha for the first time, laid out on his bed like a feast. And oh, how Crowley feasted. He kissed and nipped at Aziraphale’s belly, then along his thighs, making Aziraphale rock hard and dripping with slick.
“Fuck, you’re so wet. Are you in heat?”
“No.” Aziraphale’s next heat should still be weeks away. He was burning with desire, but it wasn’t the blind madness of heat. This want was more lucid, more refined. He wasn’t wet and aching and open like this because of biological cycles. “Only because of you.”
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Crowley whispered. “And I don’t know about you, but I don’t like to have my cycles in human form. We should get somewhere more secluded for our cycles, take each other in wolf form.”
Aziraphale let out another high pitched whine at the thought of it, of running and being chased until he finally rolled over and submitted for his alpha. But that would have to wait. Right now, he would have to settle for Crowley playing with his hard little cock as he fingered the source of Aziraphale’s slick, his tongue lapping at it like it was the fine wine they had shared at dinner. Despite his inexperience, Crowley was a quick learner, and soon Aziraphale was crying out in ecstasy from his alpha’s tongue. It wasn’t the first orgasm he’d had, but it was by far the best.
“Careful, angel. If you howl loud enough, the neighbors might think I really am a sex-crazed beast,” Crowley teased afterwards.
“I think that would only help your sales, alpha,” Aziraphale replied cheekily. Even after his climax, he felt like a sex-crazed beast, needing to get his alpha’s sinfully tight black trousers off. He grasped at the zipper, but his hands felt like useless stumps.
“Never done this before, angel?” Crowley smirked and raised an eyebrow, then gently guided Aziraphale’s hands off him. “Don’t pout. It’ll just be a moment. I can get out of these right quick and then I’ll be all yours to grab however you’d like.” Aziraphale leaned back on the bed, watching in amazement as Crowley shed his trousers and pants. His eyes grew wide when he saw the alpha’s cock for the first time. It was so big, and the knot hadn’t even swollen up yet. Could Aziraphale really take that much inside him?
“Like what you see, omega?” Aziraphale nodded, ready to get truly familiar with his mate’s body. He wrapped his hand around the rapidly hardening shaft, so much thicker than his own. Crowley groaned in response, which made Aziraphale even more eager to explore.
He used his hands and mouth to bring Crowley the same pleasure he’d just experienced. His movements were unpracticed, but enthusiastic, guided by his alpha’s grunts and moans. His mouth was full of Crowley’s cock, his nose full of Crowley’s scent. It was all so much, but Aziraphale was eager to please his mate, even if they weren’t technically mates yet. He took Crowley inside his throat as deep as he could manage, wrapping his hand around the rest. He could feel the knot swelling in his hand when Crowley pulled out of his mouth. Aziraphale looked up, unsure if he’d done something wrong.
“God, you look so perfect around my cock, angel.” Crowley stroked his hair in reassurance. “Makes me want to be inside you even more.” Aziraphale understood now why Crowley had stopped. While the alpha was getting a condom, he turned over so his stomach was against the mattress before pushing himself up into the presenting position. The slick was dripping down his thighs again, preparing him to be filled and knotted by his alpha. His mate, even if it wasn’t official yet.
“What a good omega I have. Presenting for me before I even had to command you.” The remark stirred a thought in Aziraphale, a picture of him “resisting” Crowley’s orders until he was finally manhandled into submission. That might be worth exploring another time. What a breathtaking thought, that there would be other times, other ways to be taken by his alpha. But this time, their first time, he wanted to be good, wanted to be everything his alpha had longed for. Even though he’d already had one climax, he was already burning for more. How much more needy must Crowley feel? Even so, Crowley took a minute to insert his fingers, spreading slick around his entrance to prepare the way for his large cock.
Crowley aligned himself with Aziraphale’s opening, then grabbed his love handles as he slid in slowly. It was a lot to take in, but Aziraphale took a deep breath and tried to relax, making himself nice and easy for his mate to sink into. He keened as he was stuffed full of his alpha’s cock.
Once Crowley was fully sheathed inside him, he paused a moment. “Fuck, omega, you feel so good right now. Just as I’d always dreamed.”
Every word of praise made Aziraphale glow like the stars his alpha loved so much. He hadn’t expected to enjoy the compliments as much as the sex, but years of being deemed inadequate, even by those he’d deemed unworthy of his regard, had taken a toll on him.
“Not a dream, alpha. I’m here. And I’ll be so good for you.”
“All I ever wanted was to make you feel good, angel. Do you like this?” Crowley pulled out, making Aziraphale feel dreadfully empty for a moment before he pushed in again.
“Yes, please! Fuck me harder!” Aziraphale didn’t normally swear, but if having his long-lost mate inside him at last wasn’t an occasion worthy of cursing, what was?
“Whatever my angel wants, my angel gets,” Crowley said as he thrust deep into Aziraphale again. Aziraphale’s discomfort faded as he grew accustomed to Crowley’s cock inside him. Crowley’s thrusts grew more erratic, and Aziraphale could feel the knot pushing up against his hole. Was it too much? He craned his neck to look; it was sizable, but he wanted to feel that intensity. “Knot me, alpha!” he said, relaxing to accommodate this final intrusion.
“Fuck, angel…” Crowley’s knot breached Aziraphale’s opening, and then Crowley’s teeth met his scent gland, a slight growl reverberating against Aziraphale’s neck. Even muted by the mouth guard, Aziraphale’s omega instincts were singing for joy. HIs mate, his alpha, was claiming him and knotting him at the same time. The intensity of it all gave Aziraphale spasms of pleasure, making him howl again.
Being impaled on a thick alpha knot did grow slightly uncomfortable, but the warmth of Crowley’s embrace and sweet kisses more than made up for it. Aziraphale was finally ready to stop doubting, to accept that his mate was finally here and he loved and desired him.
Once his knot went down, Crowley donned a dressing gown, found one for Aziraphale, and led them out to the balcony. “Time to howl at the moon?” Aziraphale quipped.
“You can, if you’d like. Though it might really make the neighbors talk.” Crowley went back inside and dug through one of his boxes until he found a telescope. He swiveled it about a bit until he found what he was looking for. “No, I wanted you to see it. This human technology is even better than our wolf eyes.”
Aziraphale looked. For the first time, he could clearly see two stars, one a reddish yellow, the other tinged with blue. “Oh, Crowley…they’re beautiful!”
“They really do look like us, don’t they?” Crowley said. “And now our orbits are back together and we’ll shine as one.”