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Falling Apart

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Crowley let Aziraphale into his apartment, snapping everything into place. This being the first time the angel (position pending) had been to his apartment; he naturally felt a bit awkward. And if he happened to miracle all his little comforts into the ether where they wouldn’t be discovered; well would you blame him?

The demon fetched a bottle of wine off the shelf, easily falling into the rhythm of their sessions, as though they hadn’t just stopped armageddon and were in immense danger. Not imminently of course; hell moved slow and heaven moved even slower. He figured they’d have a month, perhaps even two before they’d be called to atone for their crimes.

After getting approximately four bottles of wine into Crowley’s collection, Aziraphale seemed to have an epiphany of sorts; opening and closing his mouth while looking at Crowley, who waited patiently for the Angel to form words. “Body swap!” he finally exclaimed, raising his glass in the air. “That’s what Agnes meant. Choose your faces wisely! That’s what she meant, we should switch bodies!”

Crowley let Aziraphale’s words sink into his wine soaked brain for a few moments before it clicked. “Yes! Angel, you’re a genius!” And if he jumped up in excitement, he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. What Crowley would remember was Aziraphale’s strong hand coming up to the back of his neck as the angel pressed a kiss to his lips. After four bottles of wine, it was all Crowley could do to kiss back and give Aziraphale all of him.

 

And in an apartment in London an angel and a demon kissed for what might have been days for all they knew, had it not been for the fact they were still very much so pissed when they pulled apart. And if an Angel woke up with his arms wrapped around a demon, well then he just wouldn’t have to tell anyone that he snuggled closer, breathing in the auburn hair he’d longed to touch for millennia.

And if a demon woke up in the arms of an angel in an apartment in London, then he would have to figure out a way to hide the fact that he was feeling very, very little in that moment. He looked up at Aziraphale, willing his brain to form proper sentences, and his bladder to be entirely empty. Crowley excused himself to the bathroom and all but ran to the medicine cabinet. He bent over the sink, taking a handful of little suppressant pills. A handful was most defiantly not the recommended dosage, but Crowley couldn’t technically be hurt by it so he never bothered to read the package.

As was such, Crowley was violently ripped from little space and hit with an intense wave of emotions. The shame, guilt, anxiety, and self hatred he felt hit him all at once as the memories from last night came crashing back down onto him. If it were possible for him to throw up Crowley would have, he stayed hyperventilating hunched over the sink for what seemed like hours, but must have only been minutes, because Aziraphale had not yet come looking for him. Crowley tried to grasp his train of thought and come back down to his body. He began running through all the fears last night’s events had put in his head. ‘What if I become little while in Aziraphale’s body? What if Aziraphale finds out while he’s in my body? Would Aziraphale regret kissing me if he found out my classification?’ were just a few of the concerns running through his mind.

Crowley sucked in a deep breathe, snapping to a decision right then and there. He would just have to hide his classification from Azirapahle. The fact of the matter was that Aziraphale is a Baseline and would never want to be Crowley’s cargegiver.