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‘You want us to… swap bodies?’
‘Yes, Angel, what about this is so hard to grasp?’
Crowley was standing behind the large, sleek island in his large, sleek kitchen.
Aziraphale always thought it was such a waste considering it was primarily used for mixing drinks.
Which is what the demon was currently doing as he explained his ‘full proof plan’ to the bemused angel standing opposite him.
‘The prophecy, Angel, think about it - ‘choose your faces wisely’.’ He flicked up exaggerated air quotes, with a charming sneer on his face. ‘‘Playing with fire?’. Heaven will want some sort of retribution - and we both know how much they love their retribution - for the whole averting Armageddon thing, and we need to be ready.’
Aziraphale perched on one of the leather barstools, hands on his thighs.
‘Assume that you’re right.’ A derisive snort came from the fridge which Crowley was currently scouring for cheese. ‘Assume that you’re right. Can we even swap bodies? Is it possible? Would it even fool anyone?’
‘You worry too much. Come oooonnnn, you’ve been ogling me for six thousand years, if you can’t imitate my sexy swagger by now then we might as well just hand ourselves in.’
Aziraphale spluttered, his cheeks burning red.
‘I- I don’t ogle, I’m sure you’re aware that lust is a sin!’
Crowley waggled his eyebrows, tongue poking out the side of his mouth.
‘Lust, Angel? I never mentioned anything about lust. Nooooo, everyone knows you love me.’
Aziraphale’s eyes widened, and he shifted on the stool.
‘Crowley, this is serious, we could be discorporated!’
The demon set down two glasses, and started to pour, looking the angel straight in the eyes.
‘Aziraphale, they will kill us. We have to do something.’
With a quick glance down once the glasses were full, he slid one over the countertop, coming to a stop just in front of where Aziraphale was sat, hands now wringing together.
‘Kill us? But-’
‘Remember Job?’
Aziraphale took a sip of his drink, a slight grimace crossing his features.
‘I’ll concede that one. But we need a plan. This isn’t something we can do willy nilly.’
Crowley scoffed, swirling the liquid in his glass.
‘You don’t think I’ve already got a plan?’
Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.
‘Ngh, whatever. I’ve got a plan.’ He stood up, arms gesturing round the room. ‘Of course I’ve got a plan. A damn good one too.’
‘Yes, so, we swap bodies.’
‘Right, you go downstairs where they’ll no doubt try throwing holy water on me. I’ll go upstairs, little bit of hellfire, then we can carry on with our lives.’
‘You- you do realise that’s not strictly a plan?’
‘Pffft, it’s enough. We can improvise. The element of surprise is on our side, remember? They’ll just be expecting us to turn up, tails between our legs, and meekly accept our punishment.’
Aziraphale stood up, his glass now empty, placing his palms on the smooth surface in front of him. His face set in a frown, eyes narrowed.
‘We’ll need to practice.’
Crowley’s eyes widened, a smirk settling on his lips.
____
‘How in Heaven’s name do you walk on these things?’
Aziraphale was currently standing in front of a full length mirror, trying to fill the longer limbs he’d been transposed into.
‘Ugh, Angel, that sounds so wrong coming from my mouth. We’re going to have to work on that.’
Aziraphale twisted his new body round a little too quickly, and stumbled, only to be caught by himself, looking amused.
This was weird.
He spluttered, blushing.
‘Oh you’re definitely going to have to rein that in, Angel, I don’t blush.’
Crowley was running his new hands over his new face.
‘Your hair is so soft!’ He looked down, a hand snaking to his crotch. ‘Oh, Angel, you are packing.’
‘I’m sorry, what?’
‘You’ve got a massive dick, I approve.’
Crowley saw his own face turning red again, eyes cast downwards.
‘Oh, well, it’s just the body I was given, I hadn’t really thought about it. Must have been a clerical error.’
Crowley snorted, the blond curls shaking as he laughed.
‘Clerical error? Oh, that’s brilliant, I love it.’
Aziraphale smoothed down his leather waistcoat, and regarded himself.
‘How do you even get into these trousers?’
Crowley waggled his eyebrows, a sight that deeply unnerved Aziraphale.
‘Guess you’ll have to take them off and try for yourself.’
A coy look from the angel, no, the demon across from him.
‘Don’t be so lewd.’
____
Later that evening - once they were certain they could fool their respective bosses for at least a little while - they were sat on Crowley’s leather sofa, still in their new bodies.
Crowley regarded his own body, uncomfortably slouching on the seat.
‘You know Angel, we should just stay like this now. We don’t know when they’ll come for us.’
‘You’re right. And it won’t hurt to keep practising. You’re very… angular, dear.’
Crowley chuckled.
‘You’ll get used to it. Although now I know why you always sit with your hands in your lap- these thighs, Angel. Delicious.’
At least Aziraphale had a handle on the blushing now.
‘Don’t be silly. It’s not like I’m sat there caressing myself. Oh please do stop waggling my eyebrows like that.’
Crowley took a long sip from his wine glass.
‘It doesn’t make you curious though?’
‘About what?’
‘Well, heh, caressing yourself as you so eloquently put it.’
Aziraphale suddenly sat up straight.
‘Crowley! You aren’t- you can’t possibly- utterly ridiculous.’
Crowley laughed, enjoying the feeling of an angel’s smile on his face.
‘Ohhh that was worth it just to see the look on my face.’
Aziraphale rolled his eyes.
‘So if they don’t come to get us by morning, what should we do? Lure them out?’
‘Yeah sure, we’ll go to the park and get an ice cream.’
Crowley found his own eyes suddenly studying him, and he raised an eyebrow in response.
‘You’re being serious, aren’t you?’
‘Hey, if we’re going to die, we might as well enjoy ourselves before we go.’
‘Crowley.’
‘Alright, we won’t die. Probably. But we’ll be out in the open, seemingly unaware- they won’t be able to resist.’
Crowley looked across to the other side of the sofa, seeing himself uncharacteristically rigid, hands wringing.
‘Hey, it’s gonna be ok. Trust me.’
A small smile greeted him.
‘Always.’
____
A couple of months had passed since their plan had come to fruition, and they hadn’t seen each other since the Ritz.
What was once Crowley’s apartment stood empty and the recently restored bookshop was dark, the closed sign still hanging in the door.
The Bentley was currently parked on a nondescript street, somewhere just outside Central London, a snoozing demon slumped behind the wheel.
The phone lying on the seat next to him suddenly lit up, buzzing loudly.
Crowley currently had him saved in his contacts as ‘Biggus Dickus’.
‘Aziraphale! To what do I owe the pleasure?’
‘Oh, I’m terribly sorry, did I wake you?’
‘S’alright, was only dozing.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Bentley.’
‘Right, well, I was wondering if you thought it would be safe for me to open the bookshop again? It’s just I- I’m feeling a bit, well, lonely.’
‘If you wanted me to come visit you, Angel, you only had to ask.’
‘Oh of course- I meant- it would just be nice to have a little life back in the place, you know?’
‘Hmph. I think we’re safe. I’ve not heard a peep from anyone downstairs. I’m guessing your lot haven’t made contact either?’
‘Not a thing.’
‘Alright, I’ll see you in five minutes.’
____
Crowley strode through the front door of the bookshop four minutes and thirty six seconds after he’d hung up.
‘Angel! I’m-’
He stopped dead in his tracks.
Every possible flat surface was covered in baked goods.
Cakes, buns, pies, you name it- if it was sweet, it was in this shop.
‘Errr- Aziraphale? Are you alright, Angel?’
A very pleased, slightly manic and tousled angel suddenly appeared from between two bookshelves.
‘Crowley! It’s so good to see you!’
The demon set his glasses down in their customary spot.
‘We spoke on the phone every day.’
Aziraphale came further out into the bookshop, illuminated by the light.
‘I’ve been baking!’
‘Baking?’ Crowley asked incredulously, eyebrows raised.
‘Yes! But how humans do it, oh it’s delightful! There’s so many techniques, and secrets, and oh you just have to try some!’
Crowley raised both hands, as if in surrender.
‘Angel, I don’t- hmph.’ His sentence was cut short by a biscuit being shoved rather unceremoniously into his mouth.
Aziraphale stepped back, eyes gleaming, as he watched Crowley hastily chew and swallow.
‘So?’
‘S’alright. Y’know I’m not really a food person.’
The angel’s face fell, and Crowley’s stomach dropped with it.
‘Fuck, sorry, no, it’s great Angel, honestly.’
Aziraphale grasped his hands together in front of him, that dazzling smile thankfully painted across his face once again.
‘Thank you dear. Now, would you like some tea? We’ve got so much to catch up on.’
He bustled off into the back of the shop, Crowley watching him go, a little half smile playing across his lips.
___
‘Y’know Aziraphale, I forgot just how comfy this sofa was.’
The wine had long since been opened, empty bottles littering the table.
‘Where have you been staying? I assume you’ve lost your apartment?’
Crowley shifted uncomfortably, hand going to the back of his neck.
‘Ohhhh y’know, here and there.’
Aziraphale raised his eyebrows, leaning forward in the armchair.
‘I’m ffffine Angel. C’mon, let’s enjoy our first night together in two months.’
He put a hand to his chest, feigning heartbreak.
Aziraphale’s cheeks reddened, and he looked down into his lap.
‘I know that we’ve been apart for longer than this in the past, and under more dire circumstances, but-’
‘I know Angel.’ He let out a slow breath of air. ‘S’probably just the booze talking, but I did miss you.’
Aziraphale murmured something under his breath, intently studying a particularly interesting thread on his trousers.
Crowley leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
‘I’m sorry?’
Aziraphale cleared his throat, uncertain, glistening eyes slowly rising up to meet the demon’s gaze.
‘I said, hm, I said that I didn’t think I was going to see you again. And that scared me.’
Crowley reached a hand out, where it settled on Aziraphale’s knee.
‘You could have said something.’
‘I didn’t want to bother you. I didn’t want to risk any comeback from Heaven or Hell either.’
‘So that’s why you’ve been baking like a human.’
‘Precisely. No miracles.’
Crowley squeezed the angel’s knee, once, then removed his hand.
Their eyes met, silence in the shop as the vinyl player reached the end of another record.
‘It’s uh, getting late. I should be getting back to er-’
‘Stay?’ Maybe a little bit of desperation had seeped into Aziraphale’s voice, but Crowley certainly wasn’t going to point it out.
Conflicted, he groaned, then snapped his fingers to sober up.
‘Same time tomorrow?’
And if Aziraphale’s eyes didn’t stray from the form of the demon as he left the shop, until he’d disappeared completely into the black of the night, the record needle still scratching in time somehow with his erratic heartbeat- well, who was going to notice?
____
And so it continued for Crowley and Aziraphale over the following weeks.
Aziraphale slowly extended the opening hours of the bookshop back to normal - or as normal as they ever were, anyway. Crowley spent his days in the Bentley, his evenings with the angel, then retreated back to his car.
They’d both chosen the sofa to sit on tonight, although Crowley took up slightly more of it than Aziraphale did, sprawled as he was.
‘Angel, d’you think, do you think-’ The wine had turned into whiskey by this point. ‘D’you think that we might have just got lucky with this whole business?’
Aziraphale looked sharply at Crowley.
‘Lucky?’
‘Yeahhh, Heaven and Hell can’t be that incompetent. They must know how we did it by now, and they haven’t sent anyone to check on us? Not even an Eric?’
Aziraphale shifted in his seat, took a small swallow of the 15 year old Talisker that the demon had obtained from somewhere.
‘You might be right.’ He was slurring slightly now, a pleasant buzz slightly fogging his thoughts. ‘Perhaps they reasoned that we would stay out of trouble, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves.’
Crowley huffed, a long arm dangling lazily over the back of the sofa.
‘P’rhaps.’ He looked across at Aziraphale, yellow eyes meeting blue. ‘So what now?’
‘Well, I suppose we should just live?’
‘Whassat even mean Angel?’
‘I wish I knew Crowley. I just- I’m just going to continue here, I think.’
‘With less baking?’ Crowley was eyeing a particularly precarious pile of muffins.
Aziraphale chuckled, looking down into his glass.
‘And what about you? What have you been doing with your days?’
‘Oh y’know, this ‘n’ that.’
The angel nodded, a faraway look in his eyes.
Crowley sensed the change in the atmosphere, sat up a tiny bit more upright.
‘Angel?’
A small sniff from the other end of the sofa.
‘How about you-’ Aziraphale cleared his throat. ‘I’m being silly.’
‘Angel, what is it?’
‘Oh it’s nothing. Just your normal existential crisis, if immortal beings can even have those.’
Crowley had sat up fully by this point, eyebrows knitted together with concern.
‘I’m fine, my dear. Besides, it’s getting late. Perhaps you’ll pop in during the day some time?’
‘I can stay tonight, if you need the company?’ Pathetic, Crowley scolded himself, might as well just throw yourself on him now.
‘You’re so kind to offer, but I’ll be ok, honestly. I know how you enjoy your sleep.’
‘Don’t actually need it though.’
‘Regardless. I’ll see you again soon, yes?’
‘Of course, g’night Angel.’
‘Good night Crowley. Thank you.’
____
The Bentley seemed exceptionally big, and unusually cold that night.
Crowley didn’t sleep.
____
The bell above the bookshop door signalled Crowley’s arrival the next evening.
(He couldn’t stay away he could never stay away)
Aziraphale glanced up from where he was already pouring the red wine into glasses, a fond crinkle to his eyes.
(He was expecting you, pathetic)
‘You have a date, Angel? Should I leave?’ Crowley tried to keep his voice even, but the slight hitch in his breath seemed to echo round the entire room.
‘Oh yes, I’m entertaining a rather wily chap tonight. Bit of a rascal, but we have wonderful conversations.’
Crowley smirked, pulling his sunglasses off and flopping into the sofa in one swift movement, ‘I’ll give you wily.’
The angel chuckled.
‘Don’t tempt me, demon.’
(Like I could tempt you Angel)
Crowley barked out a laugh.
‘It wouldn’t take much. Wave a rare book or a freshly baked cake in front of you? You’d be on your knees.’
Thud.
Crowley’s eyebrows shot up.
‘Oh dear, sorry, the bottle, hm, must have slipped out of my hand.’
Aziraphale replaced the wine bottle on the table, then sank into the armchair.
‘Tough day, Angel?’
‘No, nothing like that, it’s just-’ he ran a hand over his chin, looked across at the demon, eyes glistening, ‘it’s always a pleasure to see you, dear boy.’
Crowley stretched, curling his fingers and toes, glancing sideways towards the angel.
‘Welllll, it passes the time, I suppose.’
‘You fiend. Oh! I had a thought today, Crowley.’ He looked around nervously, leaning forward, voice dropping to a whisper, ‘what if they bugged the bookshop?’
Crowley spluttered, the wine threatening to come back out through his nose.
‘I’m sorry? You can’t be serious Angel. You think that Heaven, the worst managed business in the entire universe, have managed to surveil us without at least me being aware?’
Aziraphale sat back, eyes cast downwards.
‘I suppose it sounds silly when I say it out loud.’
‘Hey, listen to me.’
Aziraphale looked up through his eyelashes, and Crowley’s heart skipped a beat.
‘I will not let anything happen to you Angel. Or- or this bookshop. We’ve carved this life out for ourselves, and I intend to enjoy it. You are safe with me, ok?’
‘Crowley, I- I’m sorry. You’ve been such a fantastic, hm, companion, and I’ve been trapped in my head. I would really appreciate it if you would, well perhaps if you want to of course-’
‘Spit it out Angel.’
Aziraphale’s hands were wringing together frantically in his lap.
‘Could you stay tonight?’
‘On one condition.’
Aziraphale’s head snapped up, worry written across his face.
‘I’m going to need a lot more alcohol before I get into a bed with you.’
____
Crowley slept through the night for the first time in centuries.
____
The demon emerged somewhere around midday, searching for his sunglasses as he squinted against the bright light streaming through the bookshop windows.
He could hear Aziraphale’s voice floating towards him from somewhere among the bookshelves.
‘…first edition, yes. I simply couldn’t part with it.’
Crowley smiled, and rounded the corner to see which poor sap was trying in vain to buy books from the Soho dragon guarding his treasure.
He stopped just short of where he’d be seen.
It was a man. Which wasn’t unusual of course. But.
(Pull yourself together)
He was tall, slim, and dark red hair fell over his forehead in loose curls, framing impossibly dark eyes.
His hand was on Aziraphale’s arm.
(You don’t own him)
They were chatting. If Crowley’s ears hadn’t suddenly been filled with a tremendous thunder, he might have heard what about.
Aziraphale had rolled his shirt sleeves up. He must have been dusting the shelves.
(Or trying to impress)
The angel had a soft look on his face, eyes wide, enraptured by the words of the stranger.
(He’s NOT yours)
Crowley was just about to turn around and leave when Aziraphale caught his eye, pulling his arm away from the stranger’s touch.
(Quickly? Guiltily?)
‘Crowley! You’re awake!’
He grunted, emerging from the shadows, a sneer forming on his lips.
‘Angel, I just came to tell you I’m heading out.’ He shot a pointed look towards the intruder, then turned back to Aziraphale, ‘and I’ll see you tonight. As usual.’
‘Oh yes, of course. But Crowley, this is Douglas - he doesn’t want to buy any books!’
This was accompanied by a light giggle that twisted in Crowley’s stomach.
Douglas turned to the demon, extending a hand, ‘Crowley? What an interesting name. Pleasure to meet you.’
Crowley looked down at the hand, sneered, grunted, and turned his attention back to Aziraphale.
‘I’ll see you later, Angel.’
‘Oh, Crowley, I was hoping we might-’
Aziraphale’s voice faded out as Crowley jerked the bookshop door open, striding towards the Bentley.
____
The day passed slowly. Crowley didn’t move from where he was sat in the car. He watched as Douglas, fucking Douglas, left the bookshop, a cheery wave to the angel stood at the threshold as he left.
It was nearly dark. He wouldn’t go in yet.
Let him wait.
____
Crowley strolled through the bookshop entrance about two hours later than he normally would, sweeping past a confused Aziraphale who definitely hadn’t been stood looking out the window watching the Bentley.
‘Crowley!’
The demon had almost thrown himself on to the sofa, kicking the cushions to the floor.
He watched as the angel fussed about, picking up the scattered cushions, and neatly piling them next to the sofa.
He regarded Aziraphale from the corner of one narrowed eye, still covered by his sunglasses. He was now bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, a bundle of nervous energy.
Crowley smirked, trailing a hand along the back of the sofa.
‘You alright there Angel?’
Aziraphale frowned, his movement stopping abruptly.
‘You were late, Crowley.’
‘Oh, well, I didn’t want to interrupt you and Doug.’
‘Douglas.’ If Aziraphale noticed Crowley’s bristling at this correction, he didn’t show it, ‘but what- interrupt? Crowley, you were late! You didn’t even call!’
‘I’m sorry, am I supposed to inform you of my movements at all times now?’
‘That’s not what I mean, and you are quite aware of that fact.’ His voice dropped, and he looked down at the floor. ‘You know precisely why I’m worried Crowley.’
The demon scoffed, absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on the sofa.
‘Whatever. Maybe I was fraternising with my own Doug.’
‘Douglas. Why are you acting like this?’
‘Fucking Douglas.’
‘Oh.’
‘Hmph.’
Crowley slid from the sofa, eventually coming to his full height in front of Aziraphale, very much taking advantage of what height difference there was.
They stood like that for a few tense moments, the air almost crackling as they each silently dared the other to flinch first.
Crowley cocked an eyebrow.
Aziraphale pursed his lips.
A small huff, and the demon was at the door before the angel could blink.
And without a backwards glance, he stalked across the street and disappeared into the inky black of the Bentley’s interior.
____
One of the few things Crowley loved about himself was that he could be exceptionally, deliciously, petty.
Something else he loved about himself was his almost supernatural ability to nap (or at least close his eyes and look like he was napping).
It was a combination of these two facts, and the steely gaze of the angel during their standoff (and he certainly wouldn’t admit it had shook him to his core), which had led to the Bentley being parked directly outside A.Z. Fell and Co for almost a week.
Aziraphale had given up on trying to speak to him after day 2 which, admittedly, made it a little less fun, but at least his plants appreciated the company.
And if the angel wanted to play this particular game, if he wanted to keep retracing the same old steps that had worn down invisible tracks in the floor of the bookshop?
Well.
Crowley was ready to dance.
____
Aziraphale smoothed down his waistcoat, and looked out the window, pointedly ignoring the black car that had become something of a fixture on the street.
Douglas had been making twice weekly stops by the shop, and their friendship had soon blossomed. It pleased Aziraphale to have someone he could wax lyrical about literature to.
And he definitely wouldn’t say this out loud - or even in his head - but the void left by a certain demon had been threatening to stir emotions that he did not want to acknowledge right now.
Not while he felt he was still owed an apology.
‘Ah, Douglas!’ Aziraphale plastered an almost too wide smile on his face as he turned towards the sound of the bell above the door.
‘Mr Fell! How are you today?’
‘Simply - tickety boo, my friend!’
Douglas shot him a curious look at this turn of phrase, then shook his head affectionately.
‘Have you had any interesting deliveries since I was last in, Mr Fell?’
Aziraphale eyed the tall man standing in front of him.
(He would NOT think about Crowley)
Black silk shirt tucked messily into dark skinny jeans, black leather boots at the end of seemingly endless legs.
(Just like-)
Douglas had come further into the shop, but paused as he ran his finger across the spines of a selection of Jane Austen novels.
He cocked an eyebrow at the angel.
‘Are you ok?’
Aziraphale shook his head as if clearing cobwebs from his vision.
‘Terribly sorry, my head was somewhere up in the, hmm, stars just then.’
The other man smiled fondly, a dimple carving into his cheek.
(Crowley has-)
‘Not to worry Mr Fell, I can come back if it’s a bad time?’
Aziraphale started at his words.
‘Oh, not at all dear boy! Now perhaps you’d like to see-’
The bell above the door tinkled again.
‘Pardon me Douglas, I appear to have another customer.’
He nodded as Aziraphale turned away towards the door.
His mouth went dry. Heartbeat fluttering in his chest.
So.
Crowley had decided to show his face.
Aziraphale turned on his brightest sickly sweet smile.
‘Can I help you?’
The demon scowled.
‘Just browsing, thanks.’ The ‘S’ extended into a hiss.
He brushed past Aziraphale as he strode deeper into the shop, scowl deepening when his eyes fell on the other customer.
‘Mr…Crowley, isn’t it? What a delight to see you again!’
‘Hmph.’
‘How are you doing?’
Crowley regarded the man who had dared talk to him.
A pale imitation of himself.
Whatever did the angel see in him?
He glanced back at Aziraphale, who was still standing near the door, hands wringing, lips tight.
The bell tinkled again.
The angel looked as if he was about to say something, before turning to face the newest entrant to the shop - a delivery man with an armful of parcels.
Crowley saw his opportunity, his head snapping back to look at Douglas.
He stepped closer to the man, baring his teeth, voice low.
‘Look, I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, and whilst I appreciate the effort, imitation is not the sincerest form of flattery.’
Douglas frowned, a deep line forming between his brows.
‘I’m sorry, what’s going on?’
‘Like you don’t know. You need to back off, Doug. The angel belongs to me.’
‘Angel? Who? What- what are you talking about?’
Crowley shot a pointed look at Aziraphale, who was trying to decipher exactly where he needed to sign.
‘Mr Fell? But he never mentioned- I didn’t know you and him were- that wasn’t my intention at all!’
Crowley scoffed, taking his glasses off, relishing in the other man’s reaction to his eyes which by now were almost completely yellow.
‘You’re lying. You’re lying and I hate liars.’ The spite was oozing in Crowley’s voice now, ‘if I find out you’ve even touched a hair on his head?’
‘Mr Crowley, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what the situation here is. I’m obviously misunderstanding something, so I’ll be on my way. See you around.’
Crowley stared at the man as he left the shop, stopping briefly to talk to Aziraphale who shot him a worried glance across the shop.
The demon answered it with a sneer, placing his sunglasses back on his face.
Then it was just them again, angel and demon regarding each other coolly over the gulf in the bookshop.
Crowley’s hands were still clenched into fists following his previous conversation with Douglas.
A soft voice punctured the silence.
‘Crowley.’
Then, more insistent.
‘Crowley.’
Aziraphale took a step forward. Stopped.
‘I do not appreciate how you spoke to my friend. He has done nothing to slight you, and you’ve shown him hostility from the very first glance. I don’t know what’s going on inside that head of yours, but I suggest you reconcile yourself with the fact that I’ve got someone to talk to that isn’t you. Now, if you’d be so kind, I would be grateful if you could leave my shop.’
Crowley barked out a laugh, a harsh sound which echoed around the room.
And then he was leaving, knocking into Aziraphale’s shoulder on the way past, door slamming shut behind him.
____
Crowley slammed his fist on the steering wheel, rocking the car.
How dare Aziraphale tell him to leave?
It was hardly his fault the Angel couldn’t see what Douglas was trying to do. Sure, he was making out like he was only interested in talking about books, but Crowley could smell a rat a mile off.
Perhaps he thought Aziraphale had a lot of money, or was looking to steal and sell some rare editions from right under his nose.
Or perhaps he was trying to steal something (or someone) from right under Crowley’s nose.
Whatever it was, Crowley was not about to let anyone hurt-
(His)
-Aziraphale.
____
The best way, Crowley mused, to solve this problem, was to confront it head on.
He would talk to Aziraphale without his little friend present.
Well, the talking would consist more of Crowley telling Aziraphale that he wasn’t going to see Douglas anymore, and it would be for his own good.
It had been a couple of days since they’d last seen each other, and Crowley figured this had been more than enough time for the Angel to cool off.
And so here he was, ignoring the closed sign on the bookshop door as was custom, already thinking about sinking into his favourite seat in the universe.
He’d even brought a bottle of wine as a peace offering.
How could he fail?
The lights of the bookshop were dimmed, and although he’d never admit it, he’d missed the ease and cosiness of their evenings together.
But then, a laugh rang out, shrill and piercing in the otherwise still quiet.
That wasn’t Aziraphale’s laugh.
Crowley gently placed the wine bottle on the nearest shelf, and slowly made his way towards the sofa.
Douglas.
That insufferable pathetic excuse for a man was sitting on his sofa, talking to his angel, in what had been their time and their sacred spot.
They hadn’t noticed him yet, and Crowley shook as his eyes took in the scene before him.
They were sharing a bottle of wine, Douglas wiping his eyes as he laughed at something Aziraphale had obviously just said. There were candles on the table, casting flickering shadows across their faces.
The audacity.
He’d gotten under the angel’s skin, that much was evident, and Aziraphale had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.
So he plastered on his smarmiest grin, stalked over to the armchair where Aziraphale was sitting, and relished in the look on Douglas’s face as he sank onto the arm next to the angel, arms across his chest.
‘Comfy, are we?’
Aziraphale looked up sharply, suddenly aware of the demon’s presence.
‘Crowley?’
‘Why yes, I would love a glass of wine, thank you.’
He leaned forward, poured himself a drink, then sat back, the smirk still creasing his face.
Douglas was glancing between Aziraphale and Crowley, a frown across his features.
Crowley cocked his head.
‘Oh, don’t mind me, you two carry on. Pretend I’m not here.’
He sat back, took a sip.
‘No, honestly. I’ll be quiet as a mouse.’
Aziraphale pursed his lips, turning his attention back to Douglas, a skeptical look in his eyes.
‘As I was saying, I had a lady in the other afternoon - must have been Wednesday now I think on it - and she was delightful, but a little, hmm,’ Aziraphale made a curious face, and waved his free hand around his head, ‘and oh, gosh, that sounds awful, but she was enthusiastic and she was asking a lot of wonderful questions-’
Clink.
Clink.
Crowley’s fingernail was tapping on his glass, his chin resting in one hand.
‘Anyway, we ended up having a lovely conversation about book restoration - she was looking for a present for her husband’s birthday.’
A light chuckle from Douglas.
‘Not exactly your area of expertise, Mr Fell?’
‘No, precisely, but I enjoyed the discussion regardless.’
Clink.
Clink.
Aziraphale snapped his attention to Crowley.
‘I’m sorry, is there something you’d like to contribute?’
The demon cleared his throat, and drained his glass.
‘We’ll talk in a minute, Angel.’
Aziraphale frowned at this, setting his wine glass on the table.
Crowley leaned forward, the candlelight flickering in the dark lenses of his sunglasses.
‘Y’know, Doug, I was wrong about you.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yeeeaaaah. I thought you might have a modicum of intelligence inside that head, but. But. I told you to back off, and yet here you are, acting as if you live here.’
He rested a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder, the angel’s face stony.
‘You have intruded, and trampled your - quite frankly ugly - boots all over this place, and you are not welcome here anymore. This bookshop is as much mine as it is Aziraphale’s. Whatever your game is here, whatever your angle, I’ve got you sussed out, and I’m telling you it’s over.’
Douglas stood up suddenly, looking at Aziraphale.
‘I’m sorry Mr Fell, I’ve enjoyed our time together, but your- friend here is making me extremely uncomfortable.’
Crowley hissed.
‘Good.’
Aziraphale stood up, with an angry look at the demon, brushing the hand from his shoulder.
‘Douglas, please. Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t speak for us.’
Picking up his coat, Douglas scoffed, pushing his hair out of his eyes.
‘You won’t be seeing me around here anymore. I do apologise, Mr Fell.’
With that, he turned and quickly left the shop, the door slamming behind him sounding like a death knell.
Aziraphale was standing perfectly still, his back to Crowley.
‘Well Angel, you’re welcome.’
Aziraphale raised a shaking hand.
‘Don’t.’
‘Don’t what? He was trying to get something from you!’
Aziraphale whirled round, eyes blazing.
‘I’m not some maiden in need of rescuing! I am not as naive as you somehow seem to think I am, blundering along, allowing people to take advantage of me!’
Crowley’s eyes widened, and he stood up, barely a foot away from the angel.
‘He was dangerous.’
‘No, Crowley, he was a friend. Something which, if I’m perfectly honest, you seem to have forgotten how to be.’
‘Azira-’
‘I said no, Crowley.’ The angel straightened up, the colour rising in his cheeks. ‘You’ve ruined the first new friendship I’ve had in years, and for what? Because you’re, you’re… jealous?’
‘I’m not-’ Crowley sputtered, desperately trying to steer this conversation back to where he thought it should be.
‘Why can’t we just talk to each other? Why do we have to dance around each other with vague metaphors, always staying on the safe side of the line? If you have something to say to me Crowley, then say it, please. I’m tired of second guessing where I stand with you.’
Crowley grunted, making his way towards the exit.
‘Works both ways Angel.’
____
Crowley had just placed his hand on the door of the Bentley when he heard the bookshop door opening behind him, a voice crying out.
‘You do not get to leave this time Crowley!’
He turned around to a red faced angel quickly advancing on him.
‘I’m tired of you running away every time you encounter a situation that you can’t solve with- with a click of your fingers and a smirk!’
Aziraphale had reached Crowley, and was standing in front him, chest out, a furious look in his eyes.
‘What would you like me to say, Angel? That I felt threatened by him? That he made me feel inadequate? That I can’t handle seeing you so happy and it’s not because of me?’
‘Yes!’
Crowley scoffed, pointing a finger in Aziraphale’s chest.
‘You do not understand, Aziraphale.’
‘Then tell me!’
The demon growled, startling a passerby.
‘Back inside. Now. Come on.’
Then his hand was splayed on Aziraphale’s chest, pushing him back in the direction of the bookshop.
‘Crowley!’
‘We are not doing this out here.’
He grabbed Aziraphale’s arm, almost marching him back into the shop, slamming the door behind them.
Crowley frowned at the angel, his mouth set in a thin line.
It was dark, Aziraphale had extinguished the candles before he’d followed Crowley out of the shop. A lonely desk lamp provided the only illumination.
The atmosphere shifted as the two beings stared each other down. The air became heavy, and thick, expectations and unanswered questions polluting the space between them.
Aziraphale’s eyes briefly dropped down Crowley’s face, a shuddering breath released as he looked at the demon’s lips.
‘Crowley, you-’
And then the air was being forced out of his lungs as the demon grabbed his lapels, shoving him up against the wall behind them, bodies colliding.
Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak but the thought barely had time to pass from brain to tongue before Crowley’s lips were crashing against his own, the desperation and arousal in the demon’s body almost forcing him through the wall.
Crowley’s hands were still bunched in the angel’s waistcoat, Aziraphale’s hands searching for purchase on the demon’s back, forcing them ever closer, bodies trying to melt into each other.
Crowley pulled back, releasing his grip on the angel. Eyes behind his dark lenses swept over the face in front of him - lips swollen, pupils blown with lust, the irises barely visible in the dim light.
He moved his hands downwards, fingers pausing as they reached the beige waistband. He tilted his head, waiting for permission.
Aziraphale looked down, frowned, then his mouth dropped open.
‘Oh, yes, of course, Crowley. Please. Please.’
Crowley almost tore the angel’s trousers open, pushing them and his underwear down, his thick heavy cock springing free, already hard and leaking.
Then Aziraphale found himself being spun round by strong hands on his shoulders, which then slammed him against the wall, chest first.
Miraculously slicked fingers were soon probing between his cheeks, slipping into his hole, stretching and preparing him.
Aziraphale vaguely heard the sound of a zip, and he let out a strangled moan as Crowley’s swollen head was pressing against him, into him, sinking to the hilt.
The hands on his shoulders moved down to tightly grasp his hips, fingertips digging in almost painfully, as Crowley thrust into him again, and again, deep and hard and fast.
Hot breath caressed his neck before Crowley swooped down, biting and sucking at the soft skin there, marking the angel.
‘Crowley-’
A hand left his hip, clamping across his mouth, a low growl in his ear as the thrusting intensified.
Aziraphale groaned, desperately trying to get some friction, but Crowley was pressing him too hard into the wall to be able to move at all.
The angel felt Crowley tensing against him, inside him, then his teeth were biting down on Aziraphale’s neck as his release finally came, fingers leaving deep bruises on his hips.
Aziraphale whimpered as Crowley slid out of him, his cock still hot and throbbing. He rested his face against the wall, until his breath slowed, and he turned himself round to face-
‘Crowley?’
An empty bookshop greeted him.
He’d gone.
____
Crowley slumped behind the wheel of the Bentley, the sweat still streaked across his forehead.
He breathed out, and turned on the ignition. He had to get away, actually create some distance between them. The gravitational pull of Aziraphale’s presence was too strong to consider staying near the bookshop.
And so he drove.
He had no idea where he was once the Bentley finally slowed to a stop, but it was countryside, and that seemed far enough away from Soho.
An image of Aziraphale’s soft lips, swollen and parted, suddenly entered his mind, and the fires of lust which had cooled to an ember during the drive roared into life again, hungry for more.
No.
He shouldn’t have reacted the way he did, he knew that.
But.
He hadn’t known what he’d wanted to say to Aziraphale, not really. And his stupid dick had thought quicker than his stupid brain, and now here he was, alone, again.
He’d ran. It shamed him every time, his cowardice. But his feelings for Aziraphale overwhelmed him, frightened him, and his pathetic words never seemed enough.
Crowley tossed his sunglasses on to the seat next to him, then looked at himself in the rear view mirror.
Yellow eyes stared back at him, his fringe had fallen forward but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He didn’t age, but he looked old. He looked tired.
How could he look Aziraphale in the eye ever again?
He’d let his base instincts rule his mind again. He was weak. Aziraphale made him weak.
Excuses.
He sighed, eyes dropping down to his traitorous lap. He knew he had to fix this, he just didn’t know how.
____
Aziraphale sunk to the floor, knees suddenly weak. His still hard cock throbbed with unfulfilled need.
His head slumped forward, tears filling his eyes, then rolling down his cheeks.
Why had Crowley left? What more could he have done to make him stay?
He looked back up across the shop, at the door that remained devastatingly closed.
Would Crowley come back this time?
Did he want Crowley to come back?
Aziraphale shook his head. Of course he wanted Crowley back.
He loved that frustrating, wonderful, aggravating demon. He couldn’t help himself.
He’d been left feeling empty, unsatisfied.
Was this Crowley’s way of apologising?
But if he was entirely honest with himself, he wasn’t even sure if Crowley knew he’d done anything wrong.
Thinking about Crowley hadn’t helped the present situation between his legs.
He’d enjoyed what had just happened, despite his disappointment at being left alone. He’d never felt the demon in that way before and it had taken his breath away.
They’d been so close to each other.
They’d almost become each other.
His mind flashed back to the body swap, regretting that he’d not taken the time to fully explore his temporary form.
He knew Crowley had taken full advantage.
He moaned, the thought pulsing blood straight to his softening cock until it stood proud again, almost begging to be touched.
Aziraphale took himself in hand, shivering as he finally got the contact he’d been desperate for when Crowley had been inside of him.
Closing his eyes, he conjured up the feeling of the demon’s hot breath gently fluttering across his neck, the small, sharp fangs leaving marks that he would trace his fingers over in the days to follow.
His hand clasped tighter as the memories washed over him in a flood.
Crowley looking at him, eyes wide.
A smile shared like a secret between two old companions.
Fingers brushing absentmindedly across his hand as they shared a drink.
A book, given as a gift, carefully placed on a tucked away shelf.
Crowley baring his teeth at anyone who dared come near Aziraphale.
Feeling wanted, feeling desired.
His hand moved faster and faster, the lust and the passion pooling in his stomach, building to a crescendo.
The feel of Crowley’s lips on his own.
The long slender dick of the demon filling him perfectly, as if it had been made for him.
It was this thought that finally sent him into the precipice, a strangled cry escaping his lips as he came, harder than he ever had before.
‘Crowley.’
Barely a whisper, but it echoed across a thousand galaxies.
His head dropped forward as the waves of pleasure finally relinquished their hold on the angel.
He tucked himself back into his underwear, and fixed his trousers, rising slowly from where he sat on the floor.
A few wobbly steps, and then he was slumped in the armchair, eyes closed, the thunder of a thousand galloping horses in his ears.
‘Fuck,’ he breathed.
____
Crowley eased the Bentley into the parking spot outside the coffee shop. His drive back from the countryside had taken twice as long as the journey out.
Not because he was nervous, nope, no way.
He sighed, looking across at the bookshop.
Dawn was beginning to break over Whickber Street. The first soft suggestions of sunlight putting an ethereal haze across the quiet road. Small puddles slowly morphing from dark ink blots on the tarmac into glistening pockets of calm.
The maroon fronted building had never looked so unwelcoming, so foreboding, almost looming in the early light.
He’d never before had reason to doubt that the door wouldn’t open for him.
His hand had been resting on the door handle for about half an hour now as the shadows of the night slowly started to retreat.
Crowley clenched his jaw, and stepped out of the car. The road had never seemed so wide.
____
Aziraphale was resting his head on the back of the armchair, staring at the ceiling, anxious hands gripping his thighs.
A tinkling from above the door.
He sat up, startled. It was far too early for a customer.
The dark shape that had crossed the threshold formed into a demon. A tall, slim, shape profile that Aziraphale knew well.
Crowley stepped forward into the diluted morning light filtering through the windows, highlighting the dust floating lazily in the air.
They looked at each other, again. Neither of them moved. Or breathed.
The silence stretched between them, taut and brittle, waiting to be broken.
‘Crow-’
‘Azira-’
The names, whispered together so that it seemed they were one, breathed with an urgency that threatened to reveal the emotions lurking beneath.
Crowley pressed a hand to the back of his neck, his voice coming out low, and husky.
‘I, uh, may have been a little…hm, hasty earlier.’
Aziraphale twitched an eyebrow.
‘Hasty. Yes.’
‘Angel, look. I shouldn’t have been so, ngh, blunt with him?’
‘No.’
‘Ok, I admit, I might have laid it on a bit thick. But I was worried about you Angel! And yeeaaahh, I might have been the tiniest bit jealous, but can you blame me?’
‘Yes.’
‘C’mon, what do you want me to say? Look, about last night I- I didn’t think, I was just trying to show you-’
‘Crowley.’
He looked at Aziraphale, who had stood up now, smoothing down his waistcoat.
‘I want an apology. A proper one. With the dance.’
‘Oh Angel, come on, I’m sorry, alright? We don’t need to-’
‘Crowley.’
‘Angel.’ He sneered.
Aziraphale was quiet. Infuriatingly inscrutable. Hands clasped primly to his front, lips pursed in what could be mistaken for amusement, if Crowley didn’t know any better.
‘You hurt me, Crowley. Forget Douglas. You didn’t trust me. You didn’t trust me to be able to take care of myself. You didn’t trust me to not go running off with the first man who looked at me,’ Aziraphale sighed, his eyes starting to fill with tears, ‘I thought you valued our friendship, our… whatever it is we have- much more than that.’
‘Angel, I-’ his voice was soft.
‘Crowley, you mean a lot to me, how could you not after 6000 years? And you thought- you thought that I would, that I could- I’d just forget about you?’
‘No, I-’
‘No, you didn’t think, that’s your problem. You’re impulsive, and you’re rash, and your heart rules over your head, but you’re mine, and that’s not going to change, I promise.’
‘Yours?’ Crowley’s eyebrows had almost reached his hairline.
‘Mine. As I am yours, my dear,’ he smiled, eyes twinkling, ‘now, I believe you owe me an apology dance.’
A trace of humour entered the demon’s voice, ‘fine. You win.’
Crowley placed his sunglasses down, scowling.
He stepped, and twirled, and bowed.
‘You were right, you were right, I was wrong, you were right.’
Rolling his eyes, he stood up straight again.
‘Happy?’
Aziraphale shifted his stance slightly, face looking flushed.
‘Angel?’
The angel cleared his throat, a tiny pleasant smile creeping onto his lips.
‘Hmm?’
Crowley stepped towards him, then stopped short, a wicked smirk on his face, eyes dropping to the angel’s waistband.
‘Oh Aziraphale,’ he drawled, ‘did you enjoy my discomfort?’
‘Well, I, hmm-’ he stammered.
The demon closed the gap even further, a hand coming up to cup the angel’s face.
‘Crowley, I’m sorry, I-’
‘You’ve nothing to be sorry for,’ Crowley said softly, almost purring.
And then Crowley covered Aziraphale’s mouth with his own, trying to convey his passion, and his want, his need.
His hands were soon buried deep in blond curls, the angel’s hands almost clawing at his back as their tongues wrestled desperately, vying for dominance.
Aziraphale moaned into Crowley’s mouth, triggering an immediate response in his trousers, his hips jerking towards the angel.
He broke the kiss with a whimper, as he was suddenly faced with the lust and longing in Aziraphale’s face.
‘Aziraphale- Angel. Could you-’
Angelic hands found his hips, somehow drawing them even closer together.
Aziraphale’s voice, low and rough, ‘tell me what you want, my love.’
‘Ngk- could you- please, just-’
Aziraphale nipped at his neck, eliciting a strangled groan from the demon.
‘Ffff- fuck me, Angel. Need to, ngh, need to feel you.’
‘Demanding, aren’t we?’
‘Yes- I, ugh, please.’
Aziraphale cocked an eyebrow, before pushing Crowley back onto the sofa that was miraculously closer than it had any right to be.
He landed with a thump, strong hands flipping him onto his stomach, trousers and underwear immediately being wrenched down, jacket and shirt miracled away with a dismissive flick of the hand.
The sofa shifted as Aziraphale straddled Crowley, leaking cock already hanging heavy between his legs. Crowley hissed in a breath as he felt it press against his back as the angel leaned forward, one hand curling gently round the demon’s neck, while the other worked its fingers into Crowley, preparing him.
‘You like that, my dear? You like being dominated? Not having to think? Just giving yourself over to- absolute. Pleasure.’
Aziraphale punctuated his words with one finger, then another, probing and stretching.
The fingers were soon replaced by a hard heat pressing at his hole, and then the angel was pressing into him, agonisingly slowly.
Crowley twitched his hips up and back towards Aziraphale, who chuckled.
‘Patience, my sweet.’
All Crowley could do was bite the cushion, and desperately sink his fingernails into the sofa.
Only when Aziraphale was buried completely and fully within the demon did he finally let his passion take over.
The thrusting was hard and fast, Crowley’s face being pushed into the cushions again and again and again.
The hand around Crowley’s neck had moved to his shoulder, short fingernails digging into the soft flesh.
The sweat was dripping onto the demon’s back, the delicious sting keeping him present in the moment, whilst the overwhelming pleasure threatened to wash him away.
Aziraphale was grunting with the effort, small moans escaping every other breath or so.
Crowley was grinding against the sofa, desperate for release, a low groan coming almost constantly from deep in the back of his throat.
‘Crowley-’
‘Ngk, come- come for me Angel.’
It was these words that finally sent Aziraphale over the edge, his whole body tensing, fingers digging almost painfully into Crowley’s shoulder as he filled the demon with his lust, his passion, his frustrations, and his love.
The heat which had been steadily building in the demon’s midriff suddenly unspooled, and he moaned loudly, as it sent lightning bolts and rolling waves of pleasure through his entire body, his stomach fast becoming slick and sticky with his come.
The angel flopped down, boneless, and exhausted, his heaving chest fitting like a puzzle piece into Crowley’s back.
Aziraphale wrapped an arm around Crowley’s torso, holding him tight as they came down from their orgasms.
This was safe. This was home.
‘Angel?’
A lazy voice breathed into his ear, ‘hmm?’
‘Apology accepted?’
A low chuckle, stirring up another wave of lust in the demon.
‘Apology accepted.’