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Soho, 1987

Aziraphale was drunk, in a fairly light-hearted way. It had been a Hell of— well, a Heaven of a day, to be precise. But now that was over and Crowley was here. Crowley, who hadn’t been to the bookshop in years, was lounging on the couch. Aziraphale was ever so glad to see him, and he had to concentrate very hard not on telling him so, because the angel was, as previously mentioned, quite impressively drunk.

Twenty years had passed since Aziraphale had handed Crowley a thermos of holy water. It had clearly been a gesture of love, but as soon as Crowley had offered to drive them somewhere, Aziraphale had put the metaphorical brakes on. You go too fast for me, Crowley. They’d seen each other since then, of course, but Crowley hadn’t been back to the bookshop in all that time, and they hadn’t gotten drunk and let themselves go like this either.

Crowley seemed to have adapted to the current fashion, as he tended to, and while Aziraphale rarely paid any attention to that sort of thing in humans, he had made himself quite an expert on Crowley’s appearance. He’d changed his hair— it was down to his shoulders now, but feathery and slightly spiky. There was an earring in his left ear, what looked like a silver hoop made to resemble a snake. Crowley wore a tight grey shirt and a black leather jacket, but what drew most of Aziraphale’s attention was the pair of excessively tight jeans— they were blue, but so dark as to nearly be black, and held up by an improbably slender belt.

And besides that, Crowley’s legs had fallen open, as they tended to do when he lounged, and that was always very enticing, even without the tight jeans, because, obviously, their owner was quite literally Temptation Incarnate. Always had been, always would be, world without end—

Of course, there would be an end, Aziraphale thought to himself, with a bit of sudden fright. There would be an end, wouldn’t there, and when they reached it, he and Crowley, would they find that they’d spent all their time arguing about how fast to go and had never actually gotten anywhere?

It seemed the easiest course of action to a very drunk Aziraphale to simply ask Crowley, seeing as he was here. “Are you ever going to do something about that?” Aziraphale inquired.

Crowley gave him a confused look, which made his nose scrunch up a little. “About what?”

Aziraphale waved the hand that held his scotch, which made the scotch slosh a little, so then he waved his other hand. “The— sitting like that. With your legs. Flirting.”

Crowley did not look any less confused. “The— what?”

Aziraphale made an exasperated noise. “Crowley, I am very drunk and it’s hard for me to keep track of things, so you have to tell me the truth. You do flirt, I’ve seen it. With me and— and with other people.” Crowley looked significantly less amused now, and that had not been Aziraphale’s goal. He forced himself to sit up a bit in his chair. “I’m just saying,” he tried to explain, “that they think we are.”

“Are what?”

“Having s— making love. They’ve thought it for millennia, you know, everybody that sees us. All the humans think we’re together. So why aren’t we? What have we been doing? Do you want to make love with me?”

Crowley said, very slowly, “Sober up, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale huffed at him. “No, I won’t. I’ve had a terrible day, and I want to be drunk.”

Crowley narrowed his golden eyes. “Sober up or I’ll do it for you. You’re going to regret this conversation tomorrow.”

“And what if I don’t?”

Crowley made a growling noise. “You will, for hell’s sake. You are an angel and I am a demon, as you are always reminding me. I’m the bad one, you’re the good one. We’re on opposite sides, remember?”

Aziraphale glared at him, exasperated. “But we’re on our own side, aren’t we? That’s what you’re always saying. And you still didn’t answer my question!”

“And I bloody well don’t intend to, you drunken idiot!”

The bookshop air seemed to be closer suddenly. Stuffier. Melancholy. “So it’s nothing to do with me personally,” Aziraphale said sadly. “You flirt with just anybody.”

Crowley looked incredulous. “No, of course I don’t flirt with just anybody! Where are you getting this?”

Aziraphale huffed at him. “Oh! So you just do it with me because you like to fluster me! Because you know how I feel about you and it amuses you, you— damned, you very—  handsome— serpent.”

Crowley said, very quietly, “How do you feel about me?”

“Oh, you know!”

“I’d really like to hear you say it.”

“I thought I was a drunken idiot,” Aziraphale complained, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, well, this is probably my only opportunity to hear this and I want to hear it.”

Aziraphale scowled at him. “I love you, Crowley. I always have, in some way or another, since the Garden.” He added petulantly, “I don’t believe you that you didn’t know.”

Crowley had barely moved, almost looking like he couldn’t seem to remember how. “Angels love everybody,” he said faintly.

Well, wasn’t that the ironic statement of the day? Aziraphale gave a low laugh. “No, they don’t.”

Crowley groaned. “No, you, in particular, angel, you love everybody! If I… flirt with you it’s because you’re the only one who does care about me, but it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, right, for a demon, loving someone doesn’t mean anything.”

“You’re just proving my point, saying you love me and then calling me Fallen in the next breath!”

“And you say you want to hear it and then dismiss it as nothing!” Aziraphale stared morosely at his scotch. “Do you know what I think,” he asked it, “I think we’re both just terrible at this. It’s all...pear shaped between us. A big pear cock-up, that’s what it is.”

Crowley stood up. “You are so drunk, Aziraphale. I’ll get you some coffee.”

“I thought you were going to sober me up with a demonic miracle.”

Crowley rubbed at his eyes. “I decided I don’t want to be here when you get your head on straight.”

“So we can pretend this never happened.”

“Absolutely, completely, yes.”

He hadn’t gotten far towards the kitchen when Aziraphale said, “You must have, before, though. Made— well, had s— had relations.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows nearly to his hairline. It seemed like that gesture tipped him off balance a little, and he had to steady his drunken self against a bookshelf. “I’m the demon of temptation, angel. What do you think?”

“So you know how to do it.”

“Of course I bloody well know how to do it, demon of temptation!”

“So we could, then.”

Crowley looked almost broken. “Angel, this— this is too fast for you.”

Aziraphale met his eyes. “It really isn’t, if you love me.”

Crowley didn’t move, and Aziraphale sighed. “Angels don’t, that’s the thing. They don’t love everybody. Some of them I think don’t love anybody. Gabriel and Michael were here today, and—” 

Aziraphale let out a little half sob that he hadn’t realized was in his throat. “They’re cruel, they’re— horrible. And I just realized it then, they don’t love me. Never have. The only one who does is— ” He looked up at Crowley desperately, waving his scotch around again. “And you, you’re right out of one of those romance books, and I don’t read them,” he lied, “but I know what’s in them, and it’s you.”

Crowley shook his head. “Angel—”

“It is. They’re all and dark and handsome and heroic, and there are daring rescues, and dates, and flowers, and chocolates. You rescued me. How many times?” He pointed a finger at Crowley. “And you’ve brought me chocolates!”

Crowley rubbed his eyes. “I know.”

“Well, why did you, then?”

“Because I love you, you daft bloody angel, why does anyone ever bring people chocolates, it’s like the official food of trying to tell someone you love them without...saying it.”

“But you said it,” Aziraphale crowed. “You said it.”

“I did. We’ve gotten drunk, and you said it and now I’ve said it.”

“Do you regret it?”

Crowley actually looked significantly less upset than he had a moment ago. “No. Do you?”

“No.” Aziraphale smiled. “So maybe we ought to do something that’s really worth regretting.”

Crowley threw his hands up in the air. “Yeah, sure, why not? We’ve come this far.”

Aziraphale stood, with some difficulty. 

“Have— have you done this? Had relations?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale snorted. “You’re the one who’s always calling me a hedonist. What do you think?”

“So that’s a yes?”

“Of course.”

Crowley shifted a little. “Okay. That’s good. Because I lied. I haven’t.”

Aziraphale gaped at him. “You’ve never had sex?”

“Well, it was offered, you know. But they— they weren’t you, were they?”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, with a hand on his chest.

“Shut it,” the demon snapped.

Aziraphale did not. “Oh, my darling. Sober up.”


Aziraphale concentrated on pushing the alcohol haze from his mind. “Now, dearest. We’re not doing this drunk.”

With a groan, Crowley sobered himself. But he still didn’t come any closer. 

Aziraphale gave him a questioning look, suddenly a little panicked. “Oh. We were very drunk, weren’t we? My dear, I— I confess that I don’t regret what I said, but if you—” 

Crowley stepped forward, balancing on his own now. “No, of course I don’t. I just— look, we both want this to be like one of those books that I pretend I don’t read either. I’ve always wanted to be that for you. But you’re going to have to tell me how.”

Aziraphale held out a hand. “Oh, I can certainly do that. Kiss me.”

Crowley took his hand, but Aziraphale was the one who moved, yanked off balance a little until he was caught in Crowley’s arms. “Oh,” he said appreciatively. Crowley looked just slightly smug as he sank a hand into the curls of hair behind Aziraphale’s neck, and brought their mouths together.

It was a much more skillful kiss than Aziraphale had been expecting. Aziraphale opened his mouth, but Crowley didn’t take the invitation right away. Instead he sucked teasingly on Aziraphale’s lower lip, pulling it between his teeth. He played with it there a moment, and then suddenly, like a snake striking, bit down rather sharply. Aziraphale gasped, and then, with his mouth open far wider, then Crowley licked his tongue inside, tasting Aziraphale everywhere. The poor angel had quite lost his breath and most of his mind by the time Crowley let him go.

Aziraphale stared up at him. “Where the hell did you learn to do that?”

Crowley shrugged his shoulders a little. “Read a lot of books,” he said. “Wanted to be ready for you.”

Aziraphale clutched at his arms. “Oh, darling.”

“Tell me what you want, angel. Slow, or fast, or rough—”

“What do you want?”

Crowley laughed. “Nothing that I don’t already have.”

Aziraphale kissed him softly, and whispered, “I’d like you to ravish me.”

Crowley looked no less amused. “Oh, I knew it.” 

But he didn’t give Aziraphale a chance to answer that. He claimed Aziraphale’s mouth again, pushing him back against a bookshelf. While he kept Aziraphale’s attention there, Crowley’s fingers started working on his clothes, unfastening button after button. Aziraphale could feel the hardness of Crowley’s cock against his thigh, and he moaned, pressing up against it with his own.

Crowley groaned and broke the kiss, focusing more on Aziraphale’s clothes. Aziraphale returned the favor with probably less care, stripping the leather jacket and t-shirt off.

“Oh, you’re so beautiful,” Aziraphale said, reverently running his hands over skin that had never before felt his touch.

Crowley let out a gasp, grasping Aziraphale at his waist. “Angel, can I— do you want— like this? Against the shelf?”

Aziraphale stopped pressing kisses along Crowley’s shoulder long enough to answer. “That’s pretty advanced, darling. It might be best to start with a more horizontal—” The sentence was ended with a bit of a squeak as Crowley picked the angel up and laid him gently on the bookshop floor, which now was covered in rich cushions and silky fabrics. “Oh my goodness,” Aziraphale sighed. 

“Don’t know how those books think a bed like this would ever actually be found on an eighteenth-century pirate ship,” Crowley said, “but it did seem like fun.”

“I don’t recall that many real-life young, beautiful blondes offering themselves to pirate captains in order to save their ships either,” Aziraphale pointed out. 

“True,” Crowley said. He sat next to the angel and started running fingers through his curls, looking unsure again. “Do you want that? The sweet angel and the... the demon? I could—” There was just the slightest catch in Crowley’s voice.

Aziraphale grasped his hand. “Maybe someday, if you want it too. Now, I just want you.”

Crowley leaned over to give him a kiss, and then rolled so that his body rested on top of Aziraphale’s. The angel moaned into his mouth, and arched his hips up against Crowley’s cock again.

“So eager to be ravished,” Crowley teased, taking a moment to place a sharp little bite to Aziraphale’s neck.

Aziraphale was, entirely, and he was not ashamed of it. “Oh, darling, please,” he whispered.

Crowley’s hands were at work on his trousers, and soon Aziraphale was quite bare. Crowley came up to his knees over him and let Aziraphale watch as he slid down the zipper of his ridiculously tight jeans. But after that, his hands stilled and he looked a bit uncertain. 

One part of him, of course, looked quite ready to go, and Aziraphale sat up a bit and reached for it with a kind of reverence. As his hand closed over Crowley’s cock, the demon made a strangled kind of noise, and more precome leaked from the top, giving Aziraphale’s fingers plenty to work with. 



“Here, dear,” Aziraphale said quietly. “Let’s start with something simpler. This will take the edge off for you.”

Crowley let out a broken moan and pushed his hips up into Aziraphale’s fingers. “Oh… But if you— I won’t be able to—”

Aziraphale gave a little laugh. “The books are about humans, dear. Our corporations aren’t bound by the same rules. I could probably stroke you off this way, over and over, nonstop, for three days and you’d still be able to get hard again.”

Crowley let out a whimper and leaned forward, catching Aziraphale’s mouth in a messy kiss as his hips moved erratically, and he came suddenly, spurting over Aziraphale’s fingers.

“Oh, beautiful,” Aziraphale said softly.

Crowley responded by pressing Aziraphale down into the cushions again and kissing him thoroughly. His hand found Aziraphale’s cock and started gliding up and down the shaft. Crowley pulled back long enough to ask, “Can I, angel?”

“Of course.”

“With my mouth?”

“Oh, yes.”

Crowley moved down on Aziraphale’s body, and when he got into position, he gave Aziraphale a very determined look. “Crowley,” Aziraphale said, “you aren’t going to disappoint me. As long as you’re not planning to leave me like this, I’m happy.”

Crowley gave him a kind of wobbly grin and then bent down to take Aziraphale’s cock into his mouth. Aziraphale, as expected, was not in the least bit disappointed. His hips lifted off the floor of their own accord, and he gasped. “Oh, darling. That’s so good. Just—”

Crowley pulled off gently. “Tell me.”

“Right— well— a little gentler there, ah there!” Crowley smiled around his cock, looking smug again. Clearly, he’d been doing a bit of reading on this subject as well. He knew to vary his speed and to lick as well as suck. He knew to use a hand to tease around the base, to massage gently at Aziraphale’s perineum, to circle a finger at his— “Oh!” Aziraphale cried.

Crowley stilled his hand and pulled off. “Is that a good oh or a bad oh?”

Aziraphale was panting now. “Good. Good, my dear. Just— lube up your fingers a bit, and then—”

“I have you,” Crowley assured him, and went back to work.

Aziraphale tried to hold on, to prolong this incredible experience, but when Crowley sank a finger into him, the battle was lost. Aziraphale’s hips bucked up again and his climax washed over him. When he looked up again, Crowley was smiling at him.

“Please,” Aziraphale breathed. “If— you want to— you could fuck me.”

Crowley’s smile gentled. “Believe me, angel, I’ve never read one of those books and not imagined us doing exactly that.”

Aziraphale put a gentle hand to his cheek. “I never read it without imagining you either. I’ve never— I’ve never been with someone that I love like I love you. That’s the real thing from the books, you know, why everybody likes them so much. It’s not the sex as much as the love. It’s always a pair of— of soul mates.”

Crowley laughed. “How the hell did we get to be soulmates?”

"One of us seems to have had their paperwork misfiled.”

Crowley shrugged. “Maybe we’re in a file by ourselves.”

“Well, I think we must be by now.” Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, feeling the kind of insatiable hunger he always did in Crowley’s presence. But now what he wanted was finally within reach. “Darling, I’m getting cold,” he complained softly.

“Oh! I can fix that.”

Aziraphale drew him down into his arms. “Oh, yes, you can.”

Crowley kissed him— he was so very good at that— and kept moving his fingers inside Aziraphale at a steady rhythm, rubbing gently at his prostate— which had taken him a moment to find, but which he was working on unerringly now— until Aziraphale was panting beneath him. “Please,” he begged again.

Crowley smirked at him. “Thought you said you could come as many times as you wanted.”

“I— I did—”

“So come, angel,” Crowley ordered softly, and he gave Aziraphale’s cock a couple of strokes as his other hand pressed hard at his prostate. Aziraphale came explosively, and while the aftershocks were still shaking him, Crowley moved his legs up and positioned himself at Aziraphale’s entrance. Once more, he hesitated.

Aziraphale grabbed his hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you hurt me.”

Crowley nodded, and then he began to push inside. And then they were joined, angel and demon, on a cushion of silk in a very old book shop, very old friends, and someday they would be very old lovers. Aziraphale held Crowley close as he moved inside of him, kissing him lazily. 

When he’d had an indulgent taste of slow and sweet, Aziraphale whispered, “Harder,” and Crowley complied, properly fucking Aziraphale then, and, well— suffice to say they tested the three-day hypothesis and Aziraphale found it was quite the underestimate.