Actions

Work Header

Connection

Summary:

In March 2020 when the UK goes into Lockdown, Crowley is faced with the unenviable task of homeschooling Warlock. A silver lining emerges when Warlock starts attending literature classes on Zoom run by local bookseller Aziraphale, who Crowley finds extraordinarily attractive. Crowley jumps at the chance when the opportunity arises to actually talk to Aziraphale away from Warlock and his classmates, and the two of them begin to build a friendship via Zoom. When they realise their friendship could be the beginning of something more, they explore ways to feel connected to each other until the day comes when they can finally be together in real life.

Notes:

My second lockdown AU! I really wanted to write some Zoom flirting/pining and so this happened... I haven't actually finished writing it yet but it's not going to be very long and each chapter will be quite short too. Hopefully I'll be able to finish it quite quickly, I have too many WIPs!!

Hope you enjoy it! :-)

cw - covid (but no one in the fic will catch it), Warlock feels neglected by his parents

(See the end of the work for other works inspired by this one.)

Chapter 1: Homeschooling

Chapter Text

March 2020

UK schools, colleges and nurseries to close from Friday.

Oh no, no, no, no, no!

Crowley closed the BBC News app, set down his phone and rubbed his forehead. Right, so apparently he had less than a week to work out how he was going to deal with this. Teachers spent months on planning and preparation, how was he going to come up with enough activities to keep Warlock occupied all day for five days a week? It went without saying that Tad and Harriet would be expecting him to take care of this, even if they hadn’t got stuck in America they would still have expected him to take care of this, and there was no way of knowing how long it might go on for; the global situation wasn’t looking good right now. Crowley prayed that Warlock’s school would be providing some lessons online, or at least some stuff he could download and get on with.

There must be loads of stuff online for kids to do, I just have to find it. We can’t be expected to strictly follow any sort of actual curriculum, right? As long as he’s learning something? Maybe I could just sit him in front of the National Geographic channel? That’s educational, right?

When Warlock got home from school that day he was absolutely delighted to hear the news.

“You sure you’re ok? You’re not going to miss being in school with your friends?”

“Nah, school’s dumb. This is going to be like the best, longest summer holiday ever!”

“It’s not a holiday, Warlock. You still have to do schoolwork; you’ll just be stuck here doing it with me. I’m flattered if you think that’s so much better than going to school.”

“It’s ok, Crowley, ‘cos I know you won’t actually make me do anything.”

“Oi! That’d better not be what you’re planning to tell your parents!”

“‘Course not, it’ll be our little secret,” Warlock feigned a sweet smile and grabbed a biscuit out of the cookie jar. “I’m going to my room.”

“Hang on a minute, let’s talk about this. I’m not going to expect you to work all day every day or anything but I am going to expect you to do something.”

“But that’s not fair! None of my friends are gonna have to do anything ‘cos their parents’ll just ignore them and be working all the time.”

Crowley sighed and softened. He knew Warlock didn’t mean that, in fact he knew very well how Warlock himself had been affected by having parents who worked so much and hardly ever seemed to have time for him. He’d asked Crowley more than once to explain why his parents had bothered even having him, and Crowley wasn’t sure how good a job he’d done of reassuring the young boy. Sometimes he could see his point.

“Come on, Warlock, work with me here; I’m letting you have some input. I need to start preparing so you might as well tell me what you’d be most interested in learning about.”

“I hate Science… and Geography.” Shit. Crowley’s National Geographic bubble unceremoniously burst. “And I really hate Maths.”

“Terrific, a list of things you hate, exactly what I asked for, thanks.”

“‘Welcome,” Warlock mumbled before trudging off to his bedroom, where he would undoubtedly remain sequestered for most of the night.

 

After coaxing Warlock briefly out of his room for dinner, Crowley spent most of the evening working on his homeschooling plan.

This must be hard for him, he told himself as he stared at his laptop screen trying to work out where to begin. He’ll pretend to be fine but he’s probably secretly worrying about his parents and how serious this situation is going to get. I need to come up with something he’ll actually enjoy that’ll take his mind off it.

Crowley got in touch with Harriet, who assured him that money was no object and asked him to get whatever he needed to help with Warlock’s homeschooling. With that in mind, Crowley then came up with an idea he was actually pretty proud of. Warlock had been disappointed (understatement of the century) when his parents had refused to let him have his eleventh birthday in an escape room, so Crowley found lots of digital escape rooms he could do with him. Solving puzzles was definitely educational, and he wasn’t going to let anyone convince him otherwise (even if they did involve battling evil wizards or escaping from vampires).

Crowley also logged onto Warlock’s school’s website and found that they had announced they would be doing at least one online class per day, focusing on Maths, and these were described as ‘mandatory’ so Crowley would somehow have to persuade Warlock to attend them. The classes were going to be delivered via Zoom, which Crowley had never used before, so he downloaded it and spent some time familiarising himself with the software so he’d be able to help his young charge. The school website stated that the rest of the work would be available as homework files to download. Trying to get Warlock to complete those was probably going to be more of a challenge.

Knowing that what the school was providing would be insufficient to keep Warlock occupied (it might have been, if there was any chance of persuading him to do all of it), Crowley searched for other options online. Warlock often struggled to concentrate when working on his own for extended periods of time, so Crowley wanted to find opportunities for him to interact with other children. If he only had Crowley to interact with for however long this went on they’d probably end up killing each other.

Right, so he hates Maths, Science and Geography… what does that leave? History? He’ll just say, ‘but history is happening right now! I’m living it, Crowley”... English? Ugh, he’ll probably ask if he can just talk to his friends and call it an English assignment. ‘What? We’re speaking English, aren’t we?’

That said, English Literature was an option. Warlock liked to make out that he spent all of that time locked away in his bedroom playing games and watching videos about those games on YouTube (for some unfathomable reason), but Crowley knew that he actually enjoyed reading as well. He looked up recommended books for Warlock’s school year and ordered six of them (giving him a bit of choice never hurt), and found some online classes he could register Warlock for where he would have the opportunity to discuss books with other children and be encouraged to do some writing.

Right, that’ll do for now. Fingers crossed.

 

When Monday rolled around, Warlock didn’t emerge from his bedroom until just before ten-thirty.

Good start.

“Good morning, Warlock!” Crowley announced with exaggerated chipperness. “How nice of you to join me.”

“Whatever, it’s not even eleven.”

“And what time do you normally start school?”

“When school’s closed? Never.”

“Warlock, come on, school isn’t closed, well, I mean, it is, but your teachers are still working, it’s just ‘remote’.”

“Shouldn’t I be using this time to reflect on my experiences of living through a plague or something? Wouldn’t that be more productive than doing trigonometry?” Warlock argued with all the confidence of an eleven-year-old who believed he knew better about everything.

“Maths is important.”

“How? When do you ever use anything you learnt in Maths?” Something that Crowley had been reading about during his early morning doomscrolling immediately sprang to mind, but he persuaded himself not to say it, not wanting to scare the boy. “See? You can’t think of anything. S’not like there’s a load of people sitting in some room somewhere working out the size of an angle to figure out how to stop everyone from dying.”

In response to that comment, Crowley decided he would actually share the example he’d come up with. It was fine, Warlock could handle it. It was good to make learning relevant, wasn’t it?

“Fine, you want to do virus maths?”

Warlock smirked at him and honestly looked a little bit intrigued. He shrugged his shoulders, which could be translated to a pretty emphatic ‘yes’ as far as Crowley had been able to deduce over the years.

“The virus has an R rate of 2.5, that means every one person infected goes on to infect another two and a half people.”

“How do you infect half a person?” Warlock challenged smugly. Crowley scrubbed at his eyes.

“It’s an average. Right, so, on average, each one person infects 2.5 other people. Assume it takes five days for those people to show symptoms and be able to infect other people. How many people have the virus after thirty days? Get yourself some cereal and work that out, and get a move on, you’ve got your online school thing at eleven.”

Warlock didn’t manage to correctly calculate the number of infected people as he shovelled cornflakes into his mouth, but he did actually have a go at it, and it gave Crowley the opportunity to give him a quick lesson about both exponents and the benefits of social distancing. Apparently there was indeed something to be said for engaging children with learning by trying to apply it to things that were relevant to their lives.

Crowley set Warlock up on Zoom and got him into the ‘waiting room’ for his first online lesson. Warlock sat in front of the computer and rolled his eyes.

“This is dumb.”

“It’ll be fine, and afterwards, I thought we could do a digital escape room.”

“Wow, you’re really trying, aren’t you?” Warlock observed mockingly.

“Thanks for noticing. Now please try to pay attention for an hour.”

“Fine, as long as the escape room can be a murder mystery. A really gruesome bloody one.”

“Yes, fine, I’ll see if I can find something matching that delightful description while you do Maths.”

Crowley retreated to the sofa, curling up on it and scanning through some of the digital escape rooms he’d bookmarked on his phone.

When the online lesson started, Warlock certainly gave the outward appearance of concentrating and even participating, although it didn’t take long for Crowley to realise that most of the frenetic typing he could hear going on was actually just Warlock exchanging messages with his friends in the Zoom chat. Fair enough, though. This was a weird, scary experience even for adults; Crowley couldn’t really imagine what it must be like for the kids.

When the lesson finished and Crowley showed Warlock the escape room options he’d found, Warlock rather predictably opted for one that came with a warning that it was unsuitable for those of a sensitive disposition. Crowley reassured himself that it didn’t have an age restriction on it so it couldn’t be that bad, but hoped Harriet and Tad would never look too closely at where he spent the money they’d set aside for Warlock’s home education.

After uncovering and examining all of the evidence, in all of the gruesome, bloody detail that Warlock had wanted, the boy correctly identified the murderer and sat back with a grin on his face.

After lunch, Crowley tried to get Warlock to do his French homework.

“What’s the point? I can just put it into Google translate,” was the boy’s reply.

Warlock then spent some time typing various rude words into Google to find out what they were in French. Somehow he stumbled across the word ‘bifler’. Against his better judgement, Crowley made him conjugate it and then let him call it a day.

At least tomorrow they had the literature class Crowley had signed him up for to look forward to.

Chapter 2: The Literature Classes

Summary:

Warlock attends Aziraphale's literature classes, and Crowley develops a bit of a crush.

Notes:

Ok, after that little oneshot interlude earlier, I'm back to writing this! Brace yourself for second-hand embarrassment.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Hello everyone, it’s lovely to see you all.” A soft, pleasant voice emerged from the speakers of Warlock’s laptop, and Crowley glanced up from his phone, curious to see its owner. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see the screen from where he was sitting. “I do hope you’re doing well. My name is Aziraphale. Now, don’t worry, I’m not going to make you all introduce yourselves, I know not everyone enjoys doing that and it’s especially strange talking to each other like this. Over the course of our lessons, I’m sure you’ll get to know each other quite well.”

Crowley was scrolling through the latest coronavirus updates on Twitter, but realised that he couldn’t remember anything that he’d looked at, he’d been distracted listening to the man running the literature class (Aziraphale) giving his introduction. Crowley couldn’t remember the last time his brain had switched off from trying to process a million thoughts all at once like that.

“I thought we could start with some poetry. I’m going to read you a poem called ‘Stealing’ by Carol Ann Duffy, and then afterwards we can all talk about it and you can share your thoughts.”

Crowley shuffled into a more upright position on the sofa and let the hand holding his phone fall into his lap.

“The most unusual thing I ever stole? A snowman. Midnight. He looked magnificent; a tall, white mute beneath the winter moon. I wanted him, a mate with a mind as cold as the slice of ice within my own brain. I started with the head.”

Crowley’s lips parted involuntarily as he listened to Aziraphale read aloud, struck both by the comforting, modulated manner in which he spoke, as well as the rather surprising subject matter of the poem. He adjusted his position on the sofa again, stretching his legs out in front of him and lying down, leaning his head back on the armrest, and then he just listened, Aziraphale’s soft, low voice like a soothing balm over the ragged wounds in his mind.

Once Aziraphale had finished reading the poem, he explained that he would display it on the screen for the children to be able to read for themselves, and had them pick out examples of poetic devices like rhyme and hyperbole before asking them to talk about what they thought the poem was really about. One kid drew attention to the line, ‘Mostly I’m so bored I could eat myself,’ and said it summed up how they felt about the lockdown. In the background out of sight, Crowley nodded his head approvingly. He could certainly relate to that, although he would probably have just characterised it as being ‘transcendentally bored’.

“All right, why don’t we start gathering some of your ideas together on a whiteboard? Warlock, would you be happy to type the ideas onto a whiteboard please?”

Crowley glanced up and saw Warlock frowning at the computer screen.

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“Do you see a button at the bottom in Zoom that says ‘share screen’?”

“Yeah.”

“Click on that and then the whiteboard option should be in there.”

Crowley watched as Warlock simply glared more and more emphatically at the screen. “I can’t find it.”

Crowley decided to help him, because that’s what he was supposed to be doing - helping Warlock. It had absolutely nothing to do with wanting to go over to the laptop and finally get a look at the source of the sweet, angelic voice he’d been listening to for the past half an hour. He swung his legs off the sofa onto the floor and gracefully launched himself onto his feet, sauntering over to the laptop and hovering behind Warlock. He let his eyes flick to the middle of the screen, plastering a polite smile on his face as he did so, and there was Aziraphale, smiling serenely back at him.

Crowley wasn’t sure exactly what he’d imagined Aziraphale would look like, but whatever it was, it couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing. Everything about him was a perfect fit for that calming, captivating voice that had so thoroughly entranced him. Aziraphale was all soft and cosy and, honestly, gorgeous, dressed impeccably (from the waist up anyway, below that there was really no way to know) in a smart light blue shirt, tan waistcoat and an actual tartan bowtie. Crowley committed the image of Aziraphale to memory but forced himself not to get too distracted, quickly directing Warlock to the whiteboard option in the screen-share window.

“Thanks.”

Crowley patted the boy affectionately on the shoulder and retreated back to the sofa, vaguely listening to a few different kids talking about detachment and futility and all sorts of other stuff that seemed way too deep for eleven-year-olds, but that they seemed to understand disturbingly well. All the while, Warlock’s fingers clattered over the keyboard as he rapidly typed their ideas onto the digital whiteboard, and Crowley secretly smiled to himself.

 

Listening to Aziraphale’s lessons quickly became the highlight of Crowley’s entire life, which, in fairness, comprised a very limited number of activities right now. Crowley had never been interested in English at school, much preferring Science, but as he listened to Aziraphale, he wondered whether that might have been different if he’d had a more inspiring teacher. Aziraphale was so brilliant with the kids, always encouraging them to share their ideas and cleverly relating things to their experiences. Crowley was forced to confront the immensely disappointing realisation that he was actually jealous of Warlock for getting to actively participate in these classes. He may even have started to develop a little bit of a crush on Aziraphale, but he chose not to give himself a hard time for it, after all, what else was there to take pleasure in these days?

Crowley tried to find out more about Aziraphale online, but there wasn’t much to go on. There certainly weren’t any photos, which is what he’d really been hoping for to solidify the impression he’d tried to burn into his synapses from his brief glimpse of Aziraphale when he’d gone over to help Warlock. All Crowley could ascertain was that Aziraphale ran a bookshop, which was closed at the moment, obviously. He had a website, which had been linked to from the homeschooling resource Crowley had used to find out about his literature classes in the first place, but it mostly just contained information about books, alongside the information and booking links for forthcoming classes.

Aziraphale spent a few weeks covering The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas, which Warlock actually admitted to enjoying (will wonders never cease?), and after that, the classes focused more on creative writing. Warlock seemed a bit reluctant to share with the others, but Crowley had been watching him and knew that he’d written something, so that was encouraging. One of the other kids in the class came up with something involving aliens, pirates, cowboys and dinosaurs all in a single story, which Crowley had to admit demonstrated some pretty impressive creativity. Far more than listening to the children, however, Crowley enjoyed listening to Aziraphale, savouring his seemingly limitless ability to make Crowley forget about everything that was going on for a while.

The weeks in lockdown went on, and Crowley was starting to get used to the idea that there was never any good news. Every time he looked at his phone it was something else: a message from Tad saying they were still going to be stuck in America for a while; the massive increase in coronavirus hospitalisations as the disease progressed in the people who had become infected before the lockdown was enforced; police breaking up parties; thousands of people dying. It all seemed hopeless, and yet Crowley couldn’t tear himself away. He recognised that it wasn’t doing him any good, but he couldn’t stop reading about it.

Still, at least there were always Aziraphale’s lessons to look forward to. Crowley got another chance to actually see the man when Warlock asked him to help with accessing a resource from the bookshop’s website. He was somehow even more perfect than Crowley had remembered. From then on, Crowley would occasionally walk behind Warlock during the literature classes on his way to do something (anything) vaguely productive, always chancing a glance at the screen. Apparently he wasn’t as subtle as he’d hoped, as at the end of one lesson, Warlock smirked at him and said, “Maybe you should just join us next time?” in that knowing voice he adopted whenever he’d figured something out that he wasn’t supposed to know. Crowley decided it would be best to just ignore the comment, although with hindsight, not addressing it turned out to be a mistake.

“Can anyone give me an example of assonance?” Aziraphale asked brightly one day in a lesson that was focusing on setting the mood in a story and eliciting certain emotional responses from your readers.

After a few seconds, Crowley’s head jerked up in surprise as he heard Warlock speak, mumbling, “Yeah, I can.” Crowley smiled. Warlock had been quite talkative with the other children in the breakout rooms, but had seemed to hold back a bit from speaking in front of the whole class.

“Wonderful! Go ahead, Warlock.”

Warlock sat up straight and cleared his throat.

“Thanks to corona, Crowley’s a loner, when he looks at Aziraphale, he gets a…”

“Warlock!” Crowley screeched desperately, all of his blood rushing to his face and his cheeks burning with an intense heat that spread all the way down his neck and up to the tips of his ears. His heart started pounding in his chest. Oh God… oh fuck… that little shit! How could he do this to me?

“Warlock, my dear, you must have accidentally muted yourself, I’m afraid we can’t hear you.”

Warlock burst out laughing.

“You little shit!” (This was not the kind of language that Crowley should have been encouraging, but sometimes these things just needed to be said).

“Oh my God, your face! Where’s my phone? I need a picture!”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Warlock, is everything all right? We still can’t hear you, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale said softly.

Warlock snorted and then somehow composed himself, managing to keep a vaguely straight face even as Crowley continued to scowl at him from the sofa. He clicked the button in the bottom left corner of the screen.

“Oh, sorry, Aziraphale. Actually, I don’t think what I came up with was assonance, I think it was just rhyming.”

“Ah, well, assonance can involve rhyming words. Would you like to share it anyway?”

“Nah, it’s ok. I’ll keep thinking.”

Warlock then had the audacity to lean back in his chair and wink at Crowley.

 

At the end of the lesson, Warlock shut down Zoom with a maniacal cackle, jumped out of his chair and strode smugly out of the room.

“Oi! What the hell was that?” Crowley shouted as he chased Warlock into the kitchen.

“Come on Crowley, weren’t you impressed by my assonance?” Warlock smirked, opening the fridge and taking a swig of orange juice straight from the bottle before putting it back. Crowley spluttered.

“Not the point!”

“It was just a joke! I muted myself! Your face though!” Warlock burst out laughing again and Crowley sneered at him. “Hey, it’s not my fault you’re always drooling over him.”

“Warlock, that’s inappropriate.”

“So is your drooling, but here we are,” Warlock said with a shrug. Crowley ran his hand through his hair with exasperation. “You do want me to enjoy my literature classes, don’t you, Crowley? You wouldn’t want me to stop going to them, would you?”

“Warlock, I understand how horrible and frustrating this whole situation is, and I’m sure you miss being able to hang out with your friends and have fun, and I understand you only meant it as a joke, but you can’t make comments like that about me or about anyone, ok?”

“If you filled in the end of my sentence with something ‘inappropriate’, I think that’s more your problem than mine.”

“Warlock.”

“Fine. Pick up a sense of humour next time you’re out.”

“No chance, shops are all out, disruptions to global supply chains caused by the pandemic. Now get your assonance back in there and do your Science homework and I’ll consider forgiving you, as long as you promise never to do anything like that again.”

“Won’t need to. The look on your face will keep me going for a long time,” Warlock drawled with a laugh.

 

After that horrifying, mortifying ideal (oh God, Crowley could still remember how it had felt when he thought Aziraphale had actually heard what Warlock had said… the way his heart had leapt into his throat, his mouth had gone dry and the entire world had seemed to disappear as though he’d been sucked into a black hole), Crowley assumed it was impossible for things to get any worse. Perhaps that immersion into the bottom of the deepest, darkest pit was what prompted the universe to finally take pity on Crowley, because a few days later, when he went onto the bookshop website to book Warlock a place for the next literature class, he saw that something new had been added. It was something that made Crowley’s heart start racing once again and his phone fall onto his lap, slipping between his trembling fingers. He let it fall and took a moment to just breathe.

Aziraphale was going to be running a session for adults.

Notes:

Thank you so much for your kudos and comments so far, I really appreciate them! <3 <3 <3

Chapter 3: The Reading Group

Summary:

Crowley logs onto Zoom for Aziraphale's reading group for adults.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Crowley shuffled around, getting himself comfortable on the sofa with a glass of red wine on the coffee table in front of him, an accompaniment that Aziraphale had actually suggested in the description of the session he was running tonight. He logged onto Zoom, disabling his camera for now, and set the laptop down on the cushion beside him. The screen went white, with just a line at the top welcoming him to the waiting room of A. Z. Fell & Co.

It was eight o’clock, and Warlock never came downstairs at this time of night, but that didn’t stop Crowley from sending a few emphatic prayers to someone, anyone who might be listening, to make sure Warlock didn’t catch him doing this. He’d never live it down. He started to question his decision not to connect to this from the sanctuary of his bedroom, but he’d decided earlier that it would look a bit weird for him to participate from bed.

Despite his niggling apprehension, Crowley was excited. It felt like ages since he’d had something to actually look forward to, and now he was going to get the chance to not only properly look at Aziraphale for an entire hour (the beauty of Zoom being that he could keep his eyes trained on him even when other people were talking - he couldn’t get away with that in person), but he would even get to speak to him. If he was lucky, he might even get to listen to Aziraphale reading to them. Just the thought of it made Crowley’s heart flutter.

The session had been advertised as a ‘reading group’, a chance to read a book and talk about it with other people - an actual conversation with other adults, hallelujah! Crowley might have been tempted to join even if he didn’t have a ridiculous crush on Aziraphale. Today’s book was The Colour of Magic by Terry Pratchett, which Crowley had not only read and enjoyed in preparation for the session today, but he had even written comprehensive, detailed notes and done some additional reading about the book online. It would have been an absolute nightmare to finally get the chance to speak to Aziraphale, who was evidently very intellectual, and then come across as completely unprepared and uninsightful. 

Is uninsightful even a word? Oh thank God I actually prepared for this thing. Not that there’s much else I could be doing right now.

Crowley glanced briefly back over to the laptop, which was still displaying the waiting room, and then busied himself scrolling through the latest coronavirus updates on Twitter while he waited for the session to start. He needed to do something to distract himself, his heart now beating rapidly beneath his sternum and butterflies amassing in his stomach. He took a deep breath to try to settle himself.

It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be great. Warlock’s going to stay in his bedroom the whole time, and I am going to prove that I remember how to have a normal conversation with other adults, and I’m going to talk to Aziraphale, and everything’s going to be brilliant.

Crowley set his phone down and squeezed his eyes closed. It was insane to be this nervous. What would he be like if this situation went on for months? He leaned his head back, and suddenly a soft voice emerged from his laptop speakers.

“Hello? Anthony? Anthony, are you there?”

Crowley was so startled that he physically jolted and instinctively grabbed hold of the sofa's armrest, his head whipping around to look at the laptop screen.

Aziraphale said my name. Oh my God. Nice. But also… why? Why would he be addressing me?

Crowley grabbed the laptop, and stared with absolute horror at the clock in the bottom corner – 20:05, and the Zoom toolbar – Participants... 2.

I’m the only one here.

“Hello? Is anybody there?”

Crowley winced and desperately tried to work out what to do. He sucked in a lungful of air and then released it in one long, slow breath before unmuting his microphone, leaving the camera switched off for now.

“Hi. Yeah, I’m here.”

“Oh, hello! Thank you for joining me, but I’m afraid it looks like it might just be the two of us.”

Crowley glanced up at the ceiling and made a vaguely threatening gesture while mouthing, hopefully in a way that wouldn’t be picked up by the microphone, something along the lines of ‘fuuuuuuuck’. Crowley’s initial panic soon subsided, however, and was replaced by a sinking wave of disappointment. There was no way he would expect Aziraphale to run this session just for him, which meant he wouldn’t get the chance to really talk to him after all.

“Right. Um…” As Crowley watched Aziraphale smiling uncertainly on the screen, he started to feel very weird about the fact that he could see Aziraphale but Aziraphale couldn’t see him. He reflexively smoothed down his hair and adjusted the angle of his laptop screen to make sure his face would be in the frame of the camera. “Hold on, just let me put my video on.”

Taking one last deep breath and steeling himself, Crowley clicked the button to turn the camera on. Aziraphale beamed at him, and every single muscle in Crowley’s body tensed simultaneously.

“Hi.”

“Oh, hello! I recognise you!” Well that can’t be good. So much for being subtle; I guess Warlock was right. “You’re Warlock’s father, aren’t you?”

“Oh, er… no. I’m his nanny.”

“My apologies, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“S’ok. His parents are stuck in America and I have the pleasure of homeschooling him.”

“Ah, and how is that going?”

“I think it’s fair to say the results have been pretty mixed. He really enjoys your lessons though.”

Smooth.

“He’s a very bright young man, quite perceptive and insightful.”

“Glad to hear it.” I think that kid might be the actual antichrist, but sure. “So, er, obviously I don’t expect you to do this,” Crowley began, waving his hand between his chest and the laptop, “with just me, so why don’t I go and let you get on?”

“Oh. All right,” Aziraphale said quietly, his smile dissolving away.

He sounds disappointed.

“That ok?”

“Yes, absolutely, of course. I suppose I was just hoping you might stay. If you wanted to, I mean. We wouldn’t have to talk about the book,” he added hurriedly. “I just… well, to be completely honest, I was thoroughly looking forward to some adult conversation.”

He wants to talk to me. Holy shit he actually wants to talk to me. I mean, he wants to talk to anyone, but I’ll take it.

“Um, yeah, actually me too,” Crowley confessed. Aziraphale let out a slightly shaky breath, it sounded like he might be a little nervous too. Maybe Crowley wasn’t so abnormal after all.

“Really? Oh, well… lovely.”

They looked at each other for a moment in silence. Crowley was just about ready to say something along the lines of, ‘I’m sorry, I seem to have forgotten how to have an adult conversation,’ when Aziraphale spoke again.

“So… did you enjoy the book?”

“Oh, yeah. It was great.”

Brilliant. That was worth the number of hours I put into preparing for this. Maybe there’ll be a follow-up question.

“Good, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

No follow-up. Terrific. Now what?

Crowley was actively restraining himself from vocalising the only words loitering on the tip of his tongue, all of which were willing to do nothing other than assemble into a series of statements praising Aziraphale. Crowley couldn’t let that happen. He needed to stay cool.

“So, how are you doing with everything?”

“You mean the… ah…” Aziraphale gestured around himself, presumably indicating ‘the situation’.

“Yeah.”

“As well as can be expected, I suppose. And you?”

“Yeah, you know. Same. You got anyone there to keep you company?”

Oh yeah, that’s subtle.

Crowley was secretly hoping that Aziraphale was indeed alone and that that was why he’d been so eager for adult conversation. If Aziraphale was alone in lockdown, that made it more likely that he was single, and despite that fact being completely irrelevant given that nothing was actually going to happen, Crowley couldn’t help but hope.

“No, it’s just me, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale confirmed, and Crowley tried to ignore the wibbly-wobbly feeling in his stomach. “And you? You said that Warlock’s parents are away, does that mean you’re staying with him all the time?”

“Yeah, well, it’s a live-in position anyway, but yeah, s’just been me and him.”

“Well, I’m sure he’s very lucky to have you.”

Aww, that’s sweet.

“Thanks,” Crowley replied with a smile that he completely failed to bite back, possibly preening a little. Aziraphale smiled too. “I saw on your website that your bookshop’s closed, I mean, obviously, ‘non-essential retail’ and all that. Any idea when you might be reopening?”

“Nothing’s been announced yet, no.”

Crowley shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. Their conversation felt stilted, awkward, formal. During Warlock’s lessons, Crowley had heard the sound of Aziraphale’s voice flowing like a sparkling stream in summertime (oh Jesus Christ) when he talked passionately to the children. Crowley wanted that enthusiasm to be directed towards him. Maybe his lack of contact with other humans had completely eroded any kind of filter he might have possessed between his brain and his mouth, maybe he just thought he had nothing to lose, or maybe he just really wanted Aziraphale to know… whatever the reason, he stopped holding back his praise.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I listen to your lessons, just in case Warlock needs any help,” Crowley started bravely. Half true. It’s not like I could leave him unsupervised for long and trust him to actually get any work done. “I just wanted to say that you’re really great, I mean, you’re really inspiring, you make it really interesting for the kids. You’ve got this talent for asking questions in a way that encourages them to really reflect and makes them give you really meaningful answers.”

Holy shit how many times did I just use the word ‘really’? I sound ridiculous. I need to calm down.

“Oh, Anthony, thank you, that’s very kind of you to say!” Aziraphale’s face lit up and Crowley dug his fingernails into the sofa out of the frame of the camera.

“Crowley. Call me Crowley,” he croaked in response.

“All right… Crowley.” Aziraphale gave him another blinding smile that sucked all the air from Crowley’s lungs. Should I keep going? He’s grateful now, but if I go too far he might just get creeped out. “Has he shown you anything that he’s written?”

Crowley scoffed. “No. Has he shown you?”

“No, not yet, but hopefully with some encouragement he’ll feel confident enough to do so soon.”

“You’re certainly good at that. Seriously, Warlock doesn’t engage with anything as much as he does your classes.”

Ok, fine, good, leave it there, that’s enough.

Aziraphale dipped his head, and it was hard to tell in the dim lighting surrounding him in his bookshop, but Crowley was pretty sure he was blushing. He was also still smiling, which was a very good sign that Crowley hadn’t been too over-enthusiastic with his praise.

“You’re very kind,” he murmured softly.

Crowley achieved a level of eloquence rivalling Warlock then, shrugging and mumbling, “S’true.”

An uneasy silence descended between them then, something about the barrier imposed by digital communication serving to heighten it. The absence of almost all non-verbal communication amplified the pressure to constantly maintain the verbal communication. Crowley had to think of something to say.

“I’m sorry more people didn’t turn up tonight.”

“Oh, that’s all right. I’m not sure what I expected really. It’s been relatively straightforward with the classes for the children; everyone’s been looking for activities for children with the schools being closed, so there have been some helpful guides put together in the newspapers and on various websites.”

“Yeah, that’s how I found out about your literature classes.”

“Hmm. It’s not as easy to get the word out about something like this, I suppose.”

“Have you tried social media?” Crowley asked, knowing full well the bookshop didn’t have any social media accounts – he’d spent long enough looking, hoping to catch a glimpse of the heavenly vision that was before him right now. His heart fluttered a bit again.

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t know where to start. I don’t even own a mobile telephone.”

“You what?”

“My landline has always served me well enough, and it’s not as though I’m going to be straying far from it at the moment now, is it?" Aziraphale joked, and Crowley grinned at him.

“Point taken. So, no mobile phone, eh? I guess that means you haven’t been sucked into the doomscrolling?”

Aziraphale furrowed his brow and tilted his head. It was kind of adorable. “I’m afraid I don’t know what that is.”

“Oh, it’s, you know, when you just keep…” Crowley held out his palm and mimed scrolling through his phone, “compulsively reading all the doom and gloom stuff.”

“Well, I have been keeping up-to-date with what’s been happening by visiting the news websites on my computer. I do miss my daily newspaper; unfortunately the newsagent from whom I receive my deliveries is closed at the moment too.”

Fuck, I love the way he talks.

Hopefully not too late, Crowley realised that as a result of listening to Aziraphale, his current expression pretty closely resembled the heart-eyes emoji. He looked away from the screen, rolling his shoulders as a distraction.

“Probably for the best, to be honest.”

“Yes, possibly.”

“So, you gonna try giving this reading group thing another go?”

“I’m not sure. It’s rather a lot of effort to put in to complete all of the preparation if nobody is going to attend.”

I’m here,” Crowley protested, feigning petulance.

“Yes, you are,” Aziraphale said with a smile, his voice going all soft and low again, all warm and gooey like the inside of a toasted marshmallow. “And I am thoroughly enjoying your company.”

“Well then.”

Well then… what? What does that even mean?

“Yes,” Aziraphale responded as though he had indeed gleaned some meaning from it, “but that doesn’t mean I need to go to the trouble of organising the reading group. Perhaps, if you wanted to, I mean… maybe you and I could talk again sometime?” The room became perceptibly brighter as Crowley involuntarily widened his eyes. “Please, don’t feel any pressure to do so; it’s just very nice to have someone to talk to. Well, not just someone… I simply mean that I’m very much enjoying talking to you.”

Fuck, he sounds nervous. Don’t be nervous. You’re amazing.

“Yes. Absolutely. I’d love to talk to you again.”

“Oh, really?”

Crowley had heard about a solar furnace so powerful it could use the sun’s rays to melt steel. Forget steel, Aziraphale’s smile could melt… the moon.

Still need to work on the poetry apparently.

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“Oh, wonderful! That's something I’ll look forward to a great deal!”

Aziraphale gave him yet another beaming smile, and were those shooting stars Crowley could see out of the window or had the moon just exploded?

Notes:

I started posting this before it was finished to try to force me to concentrate on it, but I accidentally ended up working on two other WIPs and a quiz for The Ineffable Con's Good Omens 31st birthday celebrations (free to attend if you're interested!), so I'm not sure how quickly I will actually finish it, but I promise I'll try to prioritise it! ;-)

Chapter 4: The Escape Room

Summary:

Crowley and Aziraphale 'meet' again, and Crowley tries to work out what would count as a date given the circumstances.

Notes:

Like the last chapter, this one is dialogue heavy (as most of the story will be since a lot of it is just them talking on Zoom!), hope you enjoy it! <3

Chapter Text

The following morning, Warlock accused him of ‘forgetting there was a plague on’. Apparently Crowley was smiling too much and it was disconcerting him. Later in the day when they sat down for lunch together, Warlock scrutinised him from across the table, a devious smirk on his face.

What?”

“I worked it out; I know why you’ve been in a good mood all day. Did you have fun with Aziraphale last night?” Warlock asked nonchalantly, followed by a series of kissing noises. “Oh, Aziraphale, you’re so hot, you make me want to sanitise my laptop screen and then lick it.”

“Ok, firstly, that’s disgusting. Secondly, what did I tell you about being inappropriate?”

“What did I tell you about drooling over my literature teacher?”

“What makes you think I spoke to him?”

“Well, my first clue was that stupid smile you had on your face this morning, so I went on his website, and oh, what a coincidence…”

“Yes, ok, ok. Maybe I was just happy to have someone else to talk to, did you think of that?”

“Oooh below the belt! So did you tell him you love him? Did you tell him you want to marry him and move to a little cottage by the beach with him and listen to him read poetry while high tide rises?” Warlock delivered the last words slowly and poetically with accompanying hand movements, and Crowley narrowed his eyes at him.

“Was that assonance?”

Warlock gave him an exaggerated wink with an accompanying sound effect made by clicking his tongue, and then rose from the table victoriously.

Little shit.

 


 

The next time Crowley spoke to Aziraphale, he did so lying on his bed. It wasn’t like he was showing up for a class this time, and if he’d tried to do it downstairs, Warlock would undoubtedly have found an excuse to interrupt him; teasing Crowley about Aziraphale was his primary source of lockdown entertainment. Still, it was better than some of Warlock’s previous preferred activities, like that period when all he’d wanted to do was murder ants and start fires with his magnifying glass.

Harriet and Tad had always been quite strict with Warlock when it came to affording Crowley his privacy in his bedroom. Thankfully, they recognised that he needed to have somewhere he could guarantee not to be disturbed, and so Crowley was (fairly) confident that Warlock would leave him alone. He clicked on the Zoom link Aziraphale had sent him, using the video preview to sort out his hair before clicking to join the meeting. He noticed the changes in his own expression as soon as Aziraphale appeared on the screen, particularly the unguarded smile he gave him. It was a bit disconcerting to constantly be made aware of how his reactions actually appeared to someone else.

“Hello, Crowley.”

“Hi, Aziraphale.”

“It’s lovely to see you again.”

Crowley’s heart and stomach performed perfectly synchronised back flips in response to Aziraphale’s words, his tone so ardent and sincere.

“You too. Um…” Oh for God’s sake, calm down! “How are you doing?”

“Quite well, thank you. I’ve been baking!” Aziraphale announced brightly.

“Oh, one of those, are you?” Crowley drawled.

“One of those what?”

“People using lockdown to create the perfect sourdough loaf?”

“Possibly,” he replied bashfully. Crowley’s cheeks were already starting to develop a slight ache from all the smiling he was doing, to be expected given how little work those muscles were ordinarily used to doing. “I’ve made four different kinds! I’ve been focusing on cakes, however, and the results have been positively scrumptious! It’s rather fortuitous, actually; I’ve discovered a whole cookbook section in my bookshop.”

Discovered?” Crowley challenged. Aziraphale sucked in a breath and looked sheepish. “Never mind, if you can still make new discoveries about the place you’re stuck in through all of this then good for you, I say. All I’ve discovered is Warlock’s secret stash of things I’m pretty sure he’s planning to assemble into some kind of weapon.”

“Oh dear, I’m sure you’re exaggerating! Warlock is a lovely child.”

“Yeah, he’s lovely to you.” (Because you’re lovely.)

“I’m sure there’s no reason why Warlock would be particularly lovely with me if it were truly contrary to his character.”

‘Contrary to his character’… oh God I could listen to him talk for hours.

“Maybe because you’re lovely.” Oh fuck, I actually said it!

“Do you really think that?” Aziraphale asked softly.

Ngk. What do I say now?

“Well, yeah. Obviously.”

Aziraphale inhaled deeply, the sound of it picked up by the microphone and transmitted through the speakers on Crowley’s laptop. Aziraphale dipped his chin and touched his hand to his hair, but he didn’t stop smiling. He actually looked a little flustered. Maybe people didn’t pay him compliments that often. That was something Crowley wanted to fix.

“So…” Aziraphale began before clearing his throat. “How have you been?”

Crowley silently thanked Aziraphale for steering the conversation back into safe territory.

“Not too bad really, thanks. Sort of getting used to it, I suppose.”

“I went to an online wine tasting event!”

Ok… bit random.

“Oh yeah? How does that work?”

“They put little bottles of wine in the post for you that arrive about a week before the event. On the day, you log onto Zoom and you try the wines and discuss them, and they teach you more about them.”

“Was it good?”

“Oh yes, it was wonderful! There was a particularly splendid bottle of Châteauneuf du Pape amongst them.”

Nice. Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Crowley let his eyes wander over Aziraphale’s face, resenting that what he was actually looking at was just an image on a screen, and he sighed. “Do you think that’s just what it’ll be like from now on?”

“What do you mean?”

“People replacing real stuff with virtual stuff.”

“I hope not.”

“Me too. I read an article about it, there’s this whole thing called ‘Zoom fatigue’. Apparently it’s totally different for our brains to process talking to someone like this instead of face-to-face; it makes us miss out on so much information that we normally pick up on subconsciously, so our brains have to work harder to fill in the gaps and it leaves us exhausted.”

“Well, I do hope that talking to me isn’t too tiring for you,” Aziraphale said lightly.

“God no, it’s the opposite,” Crowley replied, perhaps a little too eagerly. Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. “It’s… um… I was looking forward to it.”

“So was I.”

A moment passed between them where they both just looked at each other without speaking. Aziraphale cleared his throat again.

“I was actually thinking of hosting some poetry readings in the bookshop when this is all over. I think we should use this experience to remind ourselves how important it is to have contact with other people and to seek to do so more once we are able. Modern life, even before all of this, has left us all rather isolated, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I actually used to think it was a good thing, how I could get food, petrol, anything really, without having to actually speak to anyone, but this has made me think twice. Anyway, if you do end up doing poetry readings I’m sure they’ll be very popular. I’ll have to bring Warlock,” Crowley suggested, even though he had absolutely zero intention of doing so.

“You live in London?” Aziraphale asked, and damn it if he didn’t sound hopeful.

“Yeah, we do.”

“Oh… that would be wonderful.”

He looks so happy…

“Right, well then, it’s a…” Date. “Plan. God knows when that might actually be allowed though.”

“Yes, I imagine it will be quite a while, but it’s certainly something to look forward to.”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

They simply looked at each other again for a moment. Oh God…

“So, have you found anything interesting to keep you occupied online?” Aziraphale asked brightly, then suddenly flushed. “Like the… ah… like the wine tasting that I attended, I mean?”

“Warlock and I have been doing some digital escape rooms,” Crowley ventured, but Aziraphale looked at him quizzically in response. “It’s like solving puzzles and stuff, like murder mysteries and fantasy quests.”

“Oh, that sounds very interesting!”

“Yeah they’re pretty good.”

Want to do one with me? No, I can’t ask him that... Want to do one with us? Oh God no, that’s worse, Warlock would humiliate me! With me. Want to do one with me? Can I ask him that? Would that be like asking him on a date? A lockdown date?

“I’ll have to look into it, it does sound like something I might enjoy; I do miss my daily puzzles in the newspaper!” Aziraphale chuckled. “I assume there are some that can be completed alone?”

“Yeah, loads of them, though it is easier with other people, normally when one person can’t figure something out someone else does, you all kind of contribute.”

“Yes, that makes sense.”

“But it’s fine; you can get lots of clues if you need them.”

“Ah, well hopefully that will be sufficient for me to manage.”

Or you could do it with me. We could work together.

“Youcoulddoitwithmeifyouwant.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

Crowley took a deep, steadying breath. “I said you could do it with me if you want?”

“Oh! Yes, thank you! That would be wonderful!”

 


 

The escape room was called 'Armageddon'. Crowley had seen it when he’d been browsing for options for Warlock, but the boy had dismissed it as ‘dumb’ on the grounds that it didn’t feature anything sufficiently violent or gruesome.

In the story, Crowley and Aziraphale were helping an angel and a demon to try to prevent the apocalypse. So far, they had deciphered seventeenth century prophecies, examined hospital records to try to identify the missing antichrist and solved a puzzle using a map to work out where Armageddon was supposed to start – an American Air Force base apparently. Well, why not?

They had acquired an inventory of items along the way, encountered a range of interesting characters including some very smug archangels and a pretty terrifying prince of hell, and were currently trying to work out how to defeat the four horsepersons of the apocalypse.

This had been going on for a while, and it was not going well.

Aziraphale had suggested using the white rabbit they had rescued from the wrong antichrist’s birthday party to try to defeat War; something about its white fur representing peace or something. They were now down one rabbit.

That had been followed by about five minutes of them both staring uselessly at the information on the screen. Aziraphale finally broke the silence.

“My goodness, we’re not particularly competent, are we?”

“That’s a fair assessment,” Crowley agreed. He was forced to accept that his success with the digital escape rooms he had participated in previously had been entirely down to Warlock, and that an eleven-year-old boy had a better chance at saving the world than he and Aziraphale did.

It didn’t help that they were both pretty drunk, and the drunker they got, the more disastrously it was going.

“I’m sure we’ve tried everything! Do you think it could be…” Aziraphale began, leaning closer to the screen and lowering his voice, “misinformation?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t trust Gabriel.”

“Seriously? He’s the archangel fucking Gabriel and you think he’s up to no good?”

“Possibly.” Aziraphale looked into the camera and nodded sagely, which made Crowley laugh. “Well, we’re clearly missing something!”

“Well, I reckon Gabriel and Beelzebub are… you know.”

Conspiring?” Aziraphale whispered with the gravitas of someone who was taking this whole thing very seriously. He really seemed to be enjoying himself, which left Crowley feeling all warm and fuzzy inside.

“Well, yeah, and maybe a bit more than conspiring if you follow my meaning.”

“Oh. Oh dear. I imagine that could get them both into rather a lot of trouble.”

“Probably.” Crowley sighed and let his head fall into his hands. Come on, brain, it can’t be that hard! Come up with something!

At that moment, inspiration struck.

“Wait a minute… didn’t we have a flaming sword?”

“Oh my goodness, yes! That must be it! I completely forgot about it! Forget my own head next!”

Aziraphale typed FLAMING SWORD into the box on the screen.

‘War picks up the flaming sword and brandishes it.’

“Oh dear, that didn’t quite go according to plan.”

“How long have we been doing this?” Crowley groaned.

“Ah…” Aziraphale glanced at the bottom corner of the screen. “About two and a half hours.”

“On the website it says the average completion time is sixty minutes, and it’s for ages 10+.”

“Oh dear. Well, we are rather inebriated.”

“We are that,” Crowley agreed.

‘Sharing’ a bottle of wine by both individually acquiring a bottle of the same wine to accompany their attempt to complete the digital escape room had seemed like a good idea at the time. Crowley had even wondered whether this could be considered 'having a drink' with Aziraphale. He was still wondering in the back of his mind whether this might be a date. If he’d been able to ask Aziraphale out to an actual escape room (which would apparently have been a total disaster given it would have involved a strictly imposed time limit), and they’d gone to a bar to drink wine afterwards, that would definitely have been a date, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it? Irrelevant, though. Damn lockdown.

“Want to quit?” Crowley ventured, feeling guilty for monopolising Aziraphale’s time for so long. He presumably had other things he wanted to be doing tonight. Maybe changing into ridiculous (sexy) tartan pyjamas that matched his ridiculous (sexy) tartan bowtie and crawling into bed with a good book and a cup of hot cocoa. Crowley smiled at the thought.

“We can’t give up now.”

“Yeah, ok.” It’s ok, I gave him an out; he must still be having a good time. “I haven’t got a clue how to solve this though. Can we take a break? Just talk for a bit?”

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Perhaps the answers will come to us when we look at it with fresh eyes. What would you like to talk about?”

Now that was a good question.

“I don’t know. I guess there’s not much to talk about. Nothing ever happens now, does it? Aside from all the doom and gloom stuff in the news, I mean.”

“That’s true, although you and I didn’t know each other before all of this.”

“Good point. Are you suggesting we talk about our lives ‘BC’?”

“I had no idea that you'd found Jesus.”

What? No, I mean before coronavirus.” Crowley narrowed his eyes and looked at Aziraphale’s image on the screen of his laptop, watching the slight smile that had been playing at the corner of his lips gradually spread into something more resembling a smirk. “Hang on… you’re winding me up, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m afraid I am. I apologise.”

“Nah, s’ok. Tease me whenever you want, I love it.” Oh God I definitely shouldn’t have said that! Crowley emphatically pushed his glass of wine further away from him to try to reduce the likelihood of absentmindedly reaching for it; getting more drunk was a really bad idea. “So, um… what was your life like before all this?”

“Well, I was running my bookshop, of course.”

“Yeah, ‘course, but what d’you enjoy doing when you’re not working?” Crowley asked, as if this actually was a first date.

“I enjoy trying different restaurants.”

“Well that’s out.”

“And going to the theatre and the symphony.”

“Also out.”

“Yes, indeed. I also enjoy going for walks around St James’s Park and feeding the ducks. That’s still allowed!” he said brightly.

“Oh yeah? Me too. S’a good park, St James’s. Good benches.”

“Gosh, you must live very close by,” Aziraphale said quietly.

“Mmm yeah, Mayfair.”

“Mayfair! Goodness. Warlock’s parents must be rather wealthy.”

Crowley barked out a laugh. “Yeah, his dad’s an American diplomat.”

“An American diplomat… well, that certainly explains young Warlock’s accent.”

“Yeah.”

“What about you, Crowley? What did you enjoy doing before all of this?”

“Being out!” Crowley answered instantly, eliciting a deep chuckle from Aziraphale that warmed his blood. Or maybe that was the wine. “One of my favourite things is going out to the coast to see the stars. I’ve got this gorgeous old Bentley, love taking her for a drive out away from all the noise and light pollution.”

“Oh, that sounds positively splendid!”

You’re ‘positively splendid’. He has no idea what hearing him talk like that does to me.

“Yeah, s’nice. What about people? Is there anyone you particularly miss being able to see?”

One of the items they had acquired in the escape room was a crown, although they hadn’t been able to figure out what to do with it. Crowley thought it might be a good idea to label it with the words ‘king of subtlety’ and wear it himself.

“Well, I miss my friends and family of course, although we have kept in touch like this.” Aziraphale gestured to the screen. “You?”

“I come from a ‘weddings and funerals’ kind of family, but I am missing my friends.”

“It’s a horrible situation.”

“Yeah, it is. Thank you for talking to me,” Crowley said softly. “I love talking to you.”

Aziraphale smiled, his flushed cheeks rounding and making him look even more adorable. Crowley’s brain then caught up with what he’d just said and he picked up his phone to give him something else to look at, sighing heavily to dispel some of the nervous energy now building within him. Was he being too forward?

“Do you want to call it a night?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley set his phone down, a gnawing feeling now building in his stomach. He didn’t want Aziraphale to think he’d had enough of talking to him. Was that what it was, or had Crowley made him feel uncomfortable? “It is getting late, and I imagine you need to be up early for Warlock’s schooling.”

“You’re kidding, right? He’s eleven. It really could be nuclear Armageddon and it still wouldn’t wake him up until at least after ten. But… um… if you want to go, I understand. It’s ok.”

“No, no, no, not at all! I’d rather like to see how this adventure ends.”

Crowley breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yeah, me too. Why don’t we just click on all the clues?”

“That’s a marvellous idea.”

Crowley clicked on more and more clues until it reached the point where they could hardly be characterised as ‘clues’ anymore rather than just giving them the answers, but, well, needs must. Apparently the crown belonged to Pollution. They defeated the four horsepersons and even helped the real antichrist to face down Satan, changing reality so that he was never his father.

Oh, and Gabriel and Beelzebub were definitely getting up to something.

They finally reached the end screen, revealing that they had successfully saved the world. Triumphant music played in the background. Their completion time was displayed, as well as the position it put them in relative to everyone else who had completed this particular game. Crowley clicked off that very quickly. It wasn’t accurate anyway, they’d taken a break! Although they had also used a lot of clues…

“We did it!” Aziraphale beamed.

“Yes, we did!” (sort of)

“Thank you so much for doing this with me; I’ve had an absolutely wonderful time!”

“Me too. See, who needs kids? We got there in the end! You and I saved the whole world.”

Aziraphale raised his wineglass. “To the world.”

Crowley grinned and reached out to retrieve his own glass, raising it up close to the camera. “To the world.”

Crowley took another ill-advised sip of his wine, watching the corners of Aziraphale’s eyes crinkle as he smiled. In the absence of a considerable chunk of his inhibitions thanks to the amount of wine he’d consumed, Crowley rested his chin on the back of his hand and dreamily smiled back at the screen.

Chapter 5: Self Comfort

Summary:

Both Aziraphale and Crowley have had a bad day, but Aziraphale has read about something that might help.

Notes:

I should have mentioned after the last chapter (thank you KissMyAsthma for reminding me about it in your comment!), The Ineffable Con created an AMAZING Good Omens digital escape room/scavenger hunt, it's free to do, you just have to register on their website! It's very clever and very, very sweet!! (some of it's quite hard, if you need clues let me know!)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

As the lockdown went on, Aziraphale and Crowley continued to meet regularly on Zoom, getting to know each other better and even attending one of those virtual wine tasting events Aziraphale had found together. They didn’t attempt any more escape rooms though.

Are we dating? This seriously feels like dating.

Aziraphale seemed to like him. Actually, Aziraphale seemed to like him a lot, and when they’d talked about people they missed being able to see, it had been clear that there was no significant other in the picture. Aziraphale had also shared that he’d been keeping in touch with his friends via Zoom, so it wasn’t like he was talking to Crowley just because he was desperate for someone to talk to, right? Although when Crowley had been the only one to attend his reading group and Aziraphale had asked him to stay, it had seemed like he might have been a bit lonely. Maybe Aziraphale just enjoyed the novelty, getting to know someone new, rather than trying to have a conversation with someone you’d known a long time when nothing was actually happening in either of your lives.

But it did feel like dating.

Although it couldn’t actually be dating if neither of them had ever used the word ‘date’, could it? All of the non-verbal signals that might have helped Crowley to demonstrate his feelings were much harder, if not impossible, to accomplish via Zoom. But Aziraphale must know how Crowley felt about him, right? Crowley had seen for himself the way he looked at Aziraphale, every time his eyes drifted over to his own image on the screen. It was unnerving. Sometimes he even considered sticking a post-it over his face. His face on the screen, that is.

Maybe they were dating, Crowley really couldn’t be sure, although he should probably try to find out at some point. The longer whatever this was went on, the more and more smitten he was becoming.

The next time he was due to talk to Aziraphale on Zoom, Crowley had already got changed for bed. It had been a hell of a day and he was exhausted. Despite the temptation (since he thought he looked pretty good in them), he didn’t wear his black silk pyjamas – that probably would have been inappropriate. He hoped Aziraphale wouldn’t take any offence to him wearing his old Queen T-shirt though (and Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to see anything lower than that). They knew each other well enough now for Crowley to get away with being more casual. He wondered whether Aziraphale would ever feel the same way. He was always dressed very formally, often wearing that mind-bogglingly alluring bowtie that he tended to wear for the children’s literature classes.

Crowley settled himself on the bed, stretched his arms above his head and cracked his back. He positioned the laptop on the bed beside him, sitting with his legs crossed underneath him, the screen tilted up to get his face in the frame. Then he clicked the link to join the meeting.

“Hey, Aziraphale.” Crowley sounded weary, but that was hardly surprising. Aziraphale gave him a fond smile that reached all the way to his captivating blue eyes.

“Hello, Crowley.” Aziraphale leaned closer to the camera, squinting a little. “What do you have on your T-shirt? Is that a reference to some form of bebop?”

“I’m going to ignore that because I know you’re winding me up,” Crowley said flatly, secretly enjoying Aziraphale’s attempt to provoke a reaction from him. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, you know. You?”

“Yeah. That. Actually do you mind if I lie down? It’s been one of those days.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” Aziraphale replied softly, and Crowley smiled gratefully before rearranging himself and the laptop, lying down on his side with his head on the pillow, his duvet pulled up to his waist, just peeking into the camera frame. Apparently Aziraphale spotted it. “Have you got under the covers?”

“Yeah. S’that ok?”

“Yes, of course.” Crowley snuggled into his pillow a bit and smiled sleepily at the screen. “It’s almost like we’re in bed together,” Aziraphale observed nonchalantly, as though it were nothing of consequence. Crowley’s heart felt like it had been jump-started and his breath caught in his chest as an image of Aziraphale lying beside him materialised in his mind.

Did he actually just say that?

“Yeah,” Crowley managed weakly in response.

Does he mean anything by it or was it just an observation?

“So what happened? Why have you had such a bad day?”

Warlock,” Crowley growled.

“Oh dear. What did he do?”

Crowley rolled onto his back and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.

“It involved fire. And sharp objects. I don’t want to think about it anymore,” he grumbled before sighing and turning back to Aziraphale, who was looking at him sympathetically with an adorable little pout, his bottom lip jutting out enticingly.

Oh God, I really want to kiss him.

“Are you both…?”

“We’re fine. Everything’s fine. Well, it is now. I just want to forget it happened.”

“I’m sorry you’ve had such a bad day. We don’t have to do this right now if you don’t want to, Crowley. I’ll understand if you’d prefer to rest.”

“No, please, I really want to talk to you. You’ll take my mind off it.”

Aziraphale smiled sweetly at him.

“That would be my pleasure. I wish I was there with you so that I could look after you properly and help you to feel better.”

Oh… wow.

Crowley’s mind went blank for a moment.

“Um… yeah. That… that would be nice.”

When Aziraphale just smiled at him and didn’t actually say anything, Crowley’s brain scrambled around trying to think of something to say to continue the conversation, seeking liberation from the awkward silence that had settled between them.

“What about you? How was your day?”

“Uneventful,” Aziraphale sighed.

“On this occasion, I seriously envy you.”

“Yes, I can understand that.”

Aziraphale sounded despondent, and Crowley shuffled closer to the laptop, the sadness in Aziraphale’s eyes making his heart ache.

“You ok?”

“I’m all right. I just haven’t been feeling very well today. Mentally, I mean.” Crowley appreciated the specification. “I’ve been a bit up and down since the lockdown began, just like everyone has, I suppose. It all just seems to have got on top of me today.”

“I’m really sorry, Aziraphale. Anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, you do! You always help tremendously! I’ve just been feeling a little trapped, like life is passing by and I am merely an observer of it. ‘The threads instead not a web at all, but fine winding fibres torn from a shattered shell; pretty ropes to bind myself in hell as I surrender the sky to fall.’”

Oh God he’s reciting poetry to me.

Crowley’s lips parted and he forgot how to breathe for a few seconds. He swallowed roughly, the intensity of the effect Aziraphale’s voice had on him seemed only to be amplified with time.

“Wow… that’s beautiful. I mean, it’s kind of depressing, but it’s beautiful. Who wrote that?”

“I did. Today, actually. Did you like it?”

Fuck, he’s reciting his own poetry to me. Ok, keep breathing, just keep breathing.

“Um… yeah. Didn’t realise you wrote poetry.”

“Well, there’s only so much baking one can do!”

“Right, yeah, ‘course.” Say something else, you idiot! “S’really beautiful.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Will you email me the whole thing?” (So that I can reply to you with something that, God willing, might actually be marginally articulate?)

“You’d really like to read it?”

“Of course I would. Might need you to explain it to me though.”

“Well, it’s about the lockdown; feeling as though I’ve taken a step backwards with my life, using insect metamorphosis as a metaphor.”

“You’re so clever.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks flushed. “Thank you.”

“So that’s how you’re feeling right now? Like you’re going backwards?”

“I had plans for things I wanted to do; it’s difficult to have one’s freedom so substantially curtailed.”

Crowley then wished even more that Aziraphale could actually be there with him, but now more so that he could be the one to offer comfort. He hated to see Aziraphale struggling, and wanted nothing more than to be able to give him a hug. Crowley missed hugs. It was hardly as though Warlock was going to hug him; he was far too… whatever word kids these days were using for ‘cool’.

“Yeah, I know,” Crowley sighed, at a loss for anything more helpful to say.

“What do you miss the most?”

“Honestly, I just miss being anywhere that isn’t here,” Crowley mumbled, but tried to inject some humour into his voice to lighten the mood.

“I miss bakeries.”

“I miss garden centres.”

“I miss sushi.”

“Really?” Crowley scrunched his nose up and grimaced.

“Sushi is nice!”

“If you say so.” Crowley grinned, relieved to see that Aziraphale was smiling too. He then decided to vocalise what he’d just been thinking. “What I really miss is hugging people. I could really do with a hug right now.”

Aziraphale let out a long breath and looked sadly into the camera. Aziraphale making direct eye contact with him made Crowley’s stomach flop over a few times.

“Yes, I miss that too. If I were there with you, I would give you a hug.”

Crowley huffed out a small, breathless laugh. “Thanks. I’d like to hug you too.”

“Maybe you should try hugging yourself?”

“What?” Crowley asked flatly.

“Don’t look at me like I’ve gone completely mad, I hope I’ve still got a long way to go on that particular road as this lockdown progresses. I read an article about it on the internet. It’s a form of self-comfort; apparently it generates some of the same physiological benefits as being hugged by someone else. People are being advised to hug themselves to help them to cope with the current situation.”

“'People are being advised to hug themselves’. That is quite possibly the most depressing, dystopian thing I’ve heard since this began.”

“You haven’t heard about the cannibal rats then?”

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say I don’t want to hear about that.”

“Hmm, yes, that’s probably wise. So, are you going to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Hug yourself?”

“Yeeeah, maybe.” Aziraphale nodded encouragingly and Crowley laughed. “You want me to do it right now?”

“You might as well try it.”

Crowley rubbed his forehead, hopefully concealing his fond grin by bringing his hand up to his face.

“You are ridiculous.” That made Aziraphale laugh, and Crowley’s heart fluttered in response. Fuck, this whole thing was ridiculous. “Fine, yes, I’ll do it.”

Crowley wriggled around a bit on the bed and crossed his arms across his chest, lifting his shoulder a little to slide his hand underneath it. He closed his eyes and gave himself a quick squeeze. It was completely absurd.

“Well?” Aziraphale prompted.

“It feels weird.”

“Why don’t you try imagining that it’s me holding you?”

Aziraphale’s voice was so soft and low that it made Crowley shiver, his whole body prickling with goosebumps. Crowley’s eyes flashed open and he looked into the screen, finding Aziraphale looking at him with wide, imploring eyes.

“‘k…” Crowley whispered, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes again, his mind racing.

Was that… is he flirting with me? He wants me to imagine him holding me. Holy shit.

“Better?”

Ok, ok, ok… ok. If he’s flirting with me, I need to make sure he knows I’m into it.

“Mmm. Much better.”

“Wonderful.”

Even with his eyes closed, Crowley could hear the smile in Aziraphale’s voice. Aziraphale had taken a step, now it was his turn, so he decided to take things a little further. With his arms still wrapped around himself, Crowley began lightly scratching his nails over his shoulder, then swept his hand up and down his side a few times, his eyes locked on Aziraphale’s image on the screen. Aziraphale licked his lips and then parted them, his eyes roaming across one half of the screen.

He’s watching me.

Crowley stilled his hand and snuggled into his pillow, smiling at Aziraphale.

“Please don’t stop,” Aziraphale said hurriedly, his cheeks flushing. “I mean… I’d really like you to keep doing that… please.” Aziraphale sounded as breathless as Crowley felt, his heart picking up its rhythm and the warm thrum of arousal beginning to build in his gut.

Crowley continued stroking his hand up and down his side over the soft fabric of his T-shirt.

“So, if you were here, you would do this for me?” he murmured softly. Aziraphale nodded, still watching him, enraptured. Crowley let his hand trail all the way down his side, hooking his fingers underneath his T-shirt so that it rode up when he dragged his fingers back up, baring his stomach. Aziraphale audibly gasped.

“Ok?”

“Yes. Yes. Perfect,” Aziraphale panted, licking his lips.

Oh fuck, this is hot.

“Oh… you look incredible,” Aziraphale breathed.

“Thank you…”

“Is there anything you’d like me to do?” Aziraphale asked haltingly, an imploring look in his eyes.

“Could you… um…” Crowley swallowed thickly.

“Tell me,” Aziraphale whispered, gently encouraging him.

“Could you take your bowtie off?”

“Oh…” Aziraphale touched his hand to his throat. “Of course.”

Aziraphale kept his eyes on Crowley as he very carefully undid the knot and slipped his bowtie free from under his collar. He folded it, literally took hold of it in his hands and neatly folded it, and placed it down beside him, before reaching up to undo the top button of his shirt.

Yes. Please don’t stop.

“All right?” Aziraphale’s words brought Crowley’s attention back to the fact he’d been staring.

“Yeah. You look amazing.”

Aziraphale released a shuddering breath, inhaled deeply and then sighed, his features tightening as his expression morphed into one of uncertainty and tension. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know,” Crowley admitted, the burning fire of his arousal subsiding to distant glowing embers. “Honestly, I’ve wanted to ask you out so many times but it’s literally illegal for us to go anywhere together.”

“For now.”

“Yes, for now,” Crowley agreed with a sad smile. “So, if I asked you out, when it’s legal I mean, would you say yes?”

“Of course! Of course I would say yes! Our Zoom calls are the highlight of my days, and I know perhaps that doesn’t sound like much given the circumstances, but Crowley… Getting to know you has been so wonderful. I feel so privileged to have had that opportunity.”

“I don’t think I’ve told you enough how amazing I think you are.”

Aziraphale pressed a hand to his heart and Crowley experienced a desperate urge to reach out for him, some deep-seated instinct apparently not connected to the part of his brain that realised it was impossible.

“So, do you want to…?” Crowley asked, still struggling to say the actual words. “I mean, um… are we…?” Dating?

“Yes. Well, I’d like to be.”

“I’d like that too.”

“I really do wish I could hug you.”

“So do I.”

With a small, sad smile, Aziraphale wrapped his arms around himself. Crowley squeezed his eyes closed, needing a second to try to quash the ache building inside of him. He’d been getting by day-to-day recently by trying not to think about it, not really think about, the dystopian reality of it literally being illegal to hug someone you cared about. Now it was threatening to overwhelm him. Crowley sucked in a deep breath and opened his eyes, and watched as Aziraphale ran a hand through his hair and then stroked it up and down his arm.

“Will you do this for me, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked gently, and Crowley mirrored his actions, carding his hair between his fingers and then sweeping his hand down along the length of his neck and his arm. “Thank you. You look stunning.”

Aziraphale smiled. His expression seemed to suggest he was looking at something he actually found awe-inspiring, the intensity with which he was watching Crowley stoking the fire in his abdomen once again.

“Thank you, so do you,” he whispered.

“Close your eyes now, Crowley. Imagine that it’s me touching you. I’m right here. I’m right here beside you.”

Notes:

It might be a little while before I post the next chapter, I have a lot of work to do this week! But at least they're *officially* together now! <3

In case anyone isn't familiar with the cannibal rats - in the first lockdown when the restaurants closed in London, the rats that normally relied on the food waste in the bins started to eat each other instead.

The line from Aziraphale's poem was inspired by all the dragonflies I've been watching emerge from my pond this week. The larvae crawl out of the water, hold onto a pond plant and their exoskeleton cracks open. The "threads" are the white breathing tubes of the larva that get torn inside out as the adult emerges through the hole created in the thorax, they sort of resemble the silk of a spider's web, the implication in the poem is that he feels like he is trapping himself, the source of the restriction is intangible. The skeleton, or exuvia, of the larva is left behind as the adult spreads its wings and takes to the skies. The poem was supposed to be a reverse of that, giving up the colour and freedom of life as a dragonfly and being wrapped up inside that shell to sink back to the bottom of the pond.

Chapter 6: Non-Essential Retail

Summary:

Aziraphale reopens the bookshop.

Notes:

Oops. I accidentally wrote this. Next chapter will be a longer wait though. ;-)

Sorry the last chapter was so sad. This one is a bit bittersweet too I think.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The weeks continued to pass, a perpetual series of groundhog days broken up only by the absolute joy Crowley derived from his Zoom calls with Aziraphale. Each night, Crowley crawled into bed, snuggled down into his duvet and wrapped his arms around himself, imagining that Aziraphale was lying behind him, holding him.

By June, things had gradually started returning to something more closely resembling ‘normal’. Tad and Harriet had come home, the schools reopened (thank fuck), and, a couple of weeks later, the government announced that ‘non-essential retail’ would be allowed to reopen too.

“Shops are opening again on Saturday,” Warlock announced over dinner one night, sitting at the table with his parents and Crowley. Tad and Harriet hummed quietly in acknowledgement but didn’t look up from their plates. Warlock locked eyes with Crowley, who gave him a stern, warning look.

“Yup,” Crowley said in response, poking a potato with his fork.

Bookshops will be open again,” Warlock elaborated.

“Oh, would you like some new books, honey?” Harriet asked brightly, turning briefly to her son and then smiling at Crowley. “Maybe Crowley could take you to get some on Saturday?”

“Oh wow, brilliant! Will you take me to a bookshop on Saturday, Crowley?”

Sarcastic little shit!

“Sure, I’ll take you to Waterstones.”

“Thanks Crowley,” Harriet said with a kind smile.

“But I read an article about how lots of independent bookshops are closing because of the lockdown. Big shops like Waterstones kept selling online so it’s ok for them, but what about the little shops? Don’t you think we should help them?”

You lying little shit, you didn’t read anything like that!

“That’s very admirable, son,” Tad interjected. Crowley had never particularly liked him.

“Why don’t you look online and try to find one that’s not too far away?”

“Ok, Mom!”

Warlock shoved a piece of carrot into his mouth and chewed it in an outrageously self-congratulatory way. The kid was a bit of a diabolical genius. If he put his skills towards the service of good rather than evil he might one day have actually made a sizeable positive difference in the world.

After dinner, when Warlock retreated to his bedroom, Tad and Harriet took the time to thank Crowley for instilling such a love of reading in their son. He just smiled and went with it - it certainly wasn’t worth risking inciting any probing questions.

 


 

“Ok… so, about Saturday,” Crowley began, running his hand through his hair. Aziraphale was already smiling at him, but his face lit up even more at the mention of Saturday, because of course they had talked about the fact that Aziraphale would be reopening his shop. With Warlock now back in school, Crowley was expected to make himself available to look after him as needed at evenings and weekends, but he had been determined to find an excuse to sneak out for a while on Saturday, going to pick up groceries or something. They both knew they wouldn’t have much time together, and there was still the requirement for ‘social distancing’, but it was better than nothing.

“I’m really looking forward to it,” Aziraphale beamed.

“Me too, but, um… look, sorry, but Warlock’s going to be with me.”

“Oh. I see. Well, that’s all right.”

“No it’s not; he’s such a little shit. He was all ‘bookshops will be open’ over dinner and his mom asked me to take him to one, so…”

“Well, at least now you have a good reason to be here while you’re technically working.”

“I knew it bothered you that I would be shirking my duties!” Crowley teased. Aziraphale scowled at him playfully. “You know I’d quit my job if it meant getting to see you, right?”

“That’s very sweet, Crowley,” Aziraphale said with a smile. “I’m glad that you won’t have to.”

“Advance warning, he really is a little shit.”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that once or twice.”

Seriously.”

“Consider me appropriately warned,” Aziraphale chuckled. “Does he know that you and I are… ah…?”

Right, so apparently we’re still not actually saying it.

“Don’t know. He knows how I feel about you, though,” Crowley admitted, and Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. “Was kinda hard to hide it.”

“Well, I’m flattered that that’s the case.”

Crowley scoffed. “Thanks.”

“So, how has young Warlock been getting on being back in school?”

“Fine. I mean, he’s going, that’s something. It’s like getting blood out of a stone but I can tell he’s glad to be back with his friends.”

“I rather miss running my literature classes with the children. Do you miss homeschooling Warlock?”

“Ha! Oh my God, no!”

“Oh dear, I’m sure he can’t really be as troublesome as you suggest.”

“Oh, he is.”

“I’m sure he’s no more rambunctious than any eleven-year-old.”

‘Rambunctious’, holy shit.

“I can prove it to you. I’m going to tell you something. I can’t believe I’m going to tell you, but I am.”

“I’m intrigued.”

“Do you remember in one of the classes you asked if any of the kids could give you an example of assonance and Warlock volunteered but he’d muted himself?”

“Yes.”

“He muted himself on purpose. He was winding me up. He said… oh God… he said, ‘thanks to corona, Crowley’s a loner, when he looks at Aziraphale, he gets a...’”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “Oh my goodness! Dare I ask how he finished that sentence?”

“He didn’t, I stopped him! I didn’t know he was on mute! I was mortified!”

“Well, I think I can infer, given the context.”

“Told you, he’s a little shit.”

“Is what he was saying true?” Aziraphale asked quietly, an alluring twinkle in his eye. “Do you?”

Crowley took a deep breath. “I might if you keep looking at me like that.”

“I really want to touch you.”

“Me too,” Crowley confessed, his voice rough. “It’s going to be hard staying two metres away from you tomorrow. And you’ll be wearing a mask. I won’t even get to see you smile.”

“Well, you can rest assured that I will be.”

“Yeah. I will be too. It’s probably a good thing that Warlock won’t be able to see how much.”

“I’m rather looking forward to meeting him.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

 


 

Warlock and Crowley were standing outside of the burgundy painted shop front of A. Z. Fell & Co Booksellers, waiting for the people inside to leave so that they would be able to go in, since only two customers were allowed on the premises at any one time. With every passing second, Crowley was getting more and more jittery. His heart was beating uncomfortably fast, and he shoved his hands as far as they would go into the pockets of his tight jeans to try to stop himself from fidgeting with them. He inhaled deeply and shifted his weight between his feet.

“It’s ok, Crowley, you got this,” Warlock piped up.

“What the f…” Crowley muttered under his breath before turning and looking at Warlock, who was looking at him with what appeared to be a sincere expression. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re gonna do great! Just don’t act too much like… you.” Warlock then reached up to straighten Crowley’s lapels.

What the actual...

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m your wingman!” Warlock announced proudly.

“No you bloody well are not!” Crowley objected, although if Warlock thought he needed a wingman, that was a good sign that he hadn’t actually deduced that he and Aziraphale were seeing each other. Well, Zoom-seeing each other.

“I can help!”

“You aren’t going to say a word, do you hear me?”

“After all of those lessons I took with Aziraphale, you don’t want me to speak to him at all? That’s so rude! I can’t believe you’re encouraging me to be so rude!”

“Right. No. We’re going somewhere else.” Crowley put his hand on Warlock’s shoulder and tried to encourage him away from the shop. It was an empty threat, but hopefully it would make Warlock behave himself (probably a snowball’s chance in hell of that, but it’s worth a shot).

“But Mom said I could choose a bookshop! I chose this one!”

“Don’t make me hold your hand like you’re five years old and drag you away from here!”

“Look, I get it, you’re nervous; I would be too if I was meeting someone I’d been obsessed with for months in person for the first time.”

Crowley spluttered and produced a whole series of sounds, but unfortunately no actual words, in response. Little shit.

“Just be quiet and put your mask on, I’m sure we’ll be able to go in soon.”

Warlock complied without argument (glory be!), slipping the straps of his mask, which featured a picture of a skull for some unfathomable reason, over his ears. Crowley put his own mask on and rolled his eyes.

The door to the bookshop opened, two ladies stepping out onto the street, and Crowley waited for them to pass before stepping up to the door himself. It was strange getting used to these kinds of little differences, like not having someone hold a door open for you. Not that that was a particularly regular occurrence in London anyway, but still.

As soon as they stepped inside, Crowley spotted Aziraphale standing beside the till and his heart seemed to stop beating for a second and then gave an almighty thump as if to make up for its momentary lapse.

Fuck, he’s even more gorgeous in person.

Crowley’s eyes drifted up and down over Aziraphale’s body, lingering on his legs. He’d never properly seen Aziraphale’s legs.

“Hi, Aziraphale!” Warlock shouted across the bookshop. Aziraphale looked up, his expression unreadable behind his mask, although his eyes did suggest he was smiling, and he had promised that he would be.

“Warlock, Crowley! Hello!”

“You’re open!”

“Yes I am! Feel free to have a look around.” Aziraphale looked at Warlock and gestured openly into the space, and then raised his eyes to look at Crowley, and Crowley desperately wished he could see more of his expression.

“Can I go upstairs?” Warlock asked excitedly, head thrown back, staring upwards. Crowley wondered if he was actually trying to give them time alone together.

“Yes, of course,” Aziraphale chuckled fondly, and Warlock bolted up the stairs. “Just… be careful!” Aziraphale called after him. Crowley approached, standing a well-practised two metres away.

“Nothing valuable upstairs, is there?”

“I’m not too concerned. I’m rather pleased that we’ve been given a moment alone together.”

“I think that might be by design. He thinks he’s my ‘wingman’.”

“Oh...” Aziraphale chuckled fondly. “I suppose that means he doesn’t realise that we…”

“Apparently not.”

Crowley took a moment to just look at Aziraphale then. The two metres between them already felt like an impassable cavern, and Crowley desperately longed to close that distance and finally give Aziraphale that hug he’d been longing for. He probably would have, Warlock’s reaction be damned, if it hadn’t been illegal to do so.

“It’s so lovely to properly meet you,” Aziraphale murmured quietly.

“You too. You’re really gorgeous in person, you know.”

“So are you.”

“Can I just…” Crowley ventured, and Aziraphale nodded, without waiting for him to complete his request. Crowley circled Aziraphale then, at a consistent distance of two metres, taking in his appearance from behind for the first time. As he circled back, he watched the rapid, rhythmic rise and fall of Aziraphale’s shoulders, evidence that he was affected by Crowley’s presence. Crowley wished he could step closer to take in the scent of Aziraphale’s cologne, maybe even find out whether that waistcoat would be as soft to touch as it looked.

“I liked that,” Aziraphale whispered. Crowley shook his head slightly with confusion. “You walking around me like that. Looking at me. It excited me.”

“You look amazing.”

Aziraphale dipped his head and straightened his waistcoat. Crowley noticed how the fabric had worn away in the spot where Aziraphale grasped it now, and wondered whether it was something of a nervous habit for him. Crowley had to use every ounce of self control he possessed not to close the distance between them and take Aziraphale into his arms.

Crowley glanced upwards and could see the back of Warlock’s head. He wasn’t looking, and no one else was allowed in the shop with the ‘only two people at a time’ rule, so they wouldn’t get caught... Nobody would ever have to know.

But on this occasion, Crowley didn’t feel particularly comfortable with breaking the rules. He didn’t want to put Aziraphale at risk of getting ill. Besides, he knew Aziraphale would be averse to deviating from the restrictions, it was already apparent to Crowley that he wasn’t exactly disobedient.

“I really wish I could hug you.” Crowley’s voice was small and quiet, muffled slightly by the fabric of his snakeskin-patterned mask.

“So do I.”

They both examined the space between them, an invisible but impenetrable barrier existing somewhere in the air, studying it like it was part of another escape room, a puzzle they just needed to solve to unlock the hidden door and be able to approach each other. But there was no solution to this; it was entirely out of their hands. Crowley quietly groaned with frustration, and Aziraphale stepped even further away from him, heading back over to the till. He squirted sanitiser onto his hand from a dispenser on the counter and looked at Crowley with wide eyes before stepping back away, around two metres away from the till.

Crowley approached slowly, not sure what Aziraphale had in mind but certainly willing to go along with it. He squirted the gel onto his hands and rubbed it in thoroughly, then looked up to see Aziraphale with his arm stretched out towards him. Crowley pouted, not that Aziraphale could see it, desperately wishing they could do more, but this was certainly better than nothing.

Crowley stretched his arm out as straight as it would go, the tips of his fingers brushing against Aziraphale’s. They both gasped at the contact, but neither of them drew away. Crowley’s breathing quickened, sparks of electricity travelling up his arm from that point of contact. A quiet, hopeless sort of sound emerged from the back of his throat, and Crowley stepped a couple of inches closer and quickly squeezed Aziraphale’s hand before releasing it and re-establishing the distance between them. The contact was brief, but it left his skin tingling all over.

Warlock’s voice echoed throughout the shop as he shouted down to them from above, snapping Crowley back into reality.

“Crowley! Can I get anything I want?”

“You don’t have any… er… pornography or anything like that here, do you?” Crowley whispered.

“Are you in the mood for something in particular?” Aziraphale asked with a deep, low voice. Crowley growled at him.

“Bastard…” he muttered under his breath before raising his voice, shouting up to Warlock. “I’ll have to approve it first! Did your parents give you a budget?”

“No!”

“Fine! Just show me what you want and I’ll let you know if you can have it!”

Crowley glared at Aziraphale and he chuckled softly, and it was an even more heavenly sound in person, his laptop speakers apparently having provided nothing more than a cheap imitation.

“I actually do have something for you,” Aziraphale said quietly as Warlock raced back down the stairs. “It’s not pornography, I’m afraid, but I hope you’ll like it. I’ll put it into the bag with Warlock’s books.”

“You got me a present?” Crowley asked excitedly, wishing he’d thought of that. Aziraphale winked at him, making all the blood in Crowley’s face rush to the surface. Thank fuck for the mask.

“Crowley, check this out! It’s a book about wars and stuff!”

“Ok, give it here, I’ll have a look at it. Go and find something else.”

“Ok,” Warlock said, being uncharacteristically cooperative as he handed the book over. “Hey Aziraphale, do you think Crowley’s hot?”

Oh God…

“I try to keep the shop at a comfortable temperature as far as possible. It has been rather warm this week, but I do have all the windows open - it’s one of the recommendations to help prevent the spread of the virus, you see.”

Warlock’s face may have been partially obscured by his mask, but his eyes and forehead scrunched up with recognisable confusion. That won’t actually work, will it?

“Crowley thinks you’re hot.”

“Well, I shall endeavour to thank him appropriately for his concern. Do let me know if you need any help finding anything.”

Warlock stared at Aziraphale for a moment and then retreated, entirely lacking the energy he’d been exuding earlier.

I think Aziraphale broke him.

“I can’t believe that worked.”

“There are advantages to giving children the impression that one has emerged from a time machine that was sent back to the 1900s.”

Crowley laughed. “What you gonna do to ‘thank me appropriately’ then?”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” Aziraphale drawled.

“God, I love your voice. I could listen to you talk all day." An ache started to build deep in Crowley's stomach, and he sighed heavily. "This is crazy because I’m standing right in front of you, but I feel like I miss you already.”

“Yes, I feel the same way. Honestly, Crowley, if I could have my way I’d throw my arms around you and I’d never want to let you go.”

I wouldn’t want you to let me go…

“Crowley!” Warlock shouted across the shop.

What?”

“Did you know when they used to hang people they cut out all their organs and spread them all out so everyone could go up to them and look at all their guts all stretched out and the blood would just go everywhere?”

“Quite the history buff,” Aziraphale observed wryly.

“Yes, I knew that!” Crowley called back, then muttered more quietly, “Although I’m not sure I’ve ever heard it described in quite that way.”

“It bodes well for his reading comprehension skills.”

“You’re such an optimist.”

Aziraphale wiggled as though delighted by the compliment, and Warlock came bounding over to them with a book in his hand.

“Aziraphale, what was it like?”

“What was what like, my dear?”

“When all the organs used to be spread out all over the place?”

“A time machine from which century, did you say?” Crowley teased, wishing he could have stepped close to Aziraphale and whispered that in his ear. Would he like that? Crowley imagined Aziraphale whispering in his ear and just the thought of it made a thrill shiver skitter up his spine.

“I’m sure it wasn’t very pleasant. Why don’t I sort out some books for you? I had some in mind for if our literature classes had continued, perhaps we should start with those?”

Crowley hovered two metres away as Aziraphale retrieved the books: Watership Down, War Horse and His Dark Materials.

Those we’ll take. Aziraphale, can I defer to your expert opinion on the other two?”

“They’re not too inappropriate.”

“Fair enough. We’ll take those too then.”

“Brilliant!” Warlock beamed. In fairness, the books couldn’t be any worse than some of the escape rooms they’d done. On the last one, Warlock had been captivated trying to work out who the murderer was by examining patterns of blood spatter and bullet wounds in the skull of the victim.

Aziraphale rang the books up on his old fashioned-looking till, although its design seemed to be for the purposes of aesthetics, as it had a very modern Chip and PIN card reader attached to it, which Aziraphale set out on the counter before stepping back. As Crowley entered the PIN for the credit card Tad and Harriet had given him, Aziraphale slipped the books into a cotton bag (which he hadn’t charged for – was that legal?), and Crowley’s heart fluttered at the thought of his mystery present nestled inside.

“The bag is a gift,” Aziraphale said, as though reading Crowley’s mind.

“Thanks. S’nice,” Crowley said with a concealed smile, examining the bag, which had the shop’s logo on one side and a series of quotations on the other.

“It was lovely to meet you both in person.”

“You too.”

“Thanks Aziraphale! Did you really like seeing Crowley?”

“Yes, Warlock, it’s been very nice.”

Warlock nudged him. Crowley glared and Warlock looked back at him with exaggeratedly wide eyes.

Oh for God’s sake…

“It’s been very nice seeing you too, Aziraphale. Right, you, come on, let’s go.”

“Bye, Aziraphale!”

“Goodbye, Warlock.”

Warlock ran off towards the door and Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other one last time.

“Goodbye, Crowley.”

“Take care. See you soon.”

“Yes, I hope so. Have a good day, my dear.”

Notes:

Next chapter really will be a little while... really... I have things I need to do. No more accidental writing allowed. XD

Chapter 7: Dinner Date

Summary:

Aziraphale and Crowley enjoy a Zoom dinner date.

Notes:

I'm back! :-D I'm through the busy time now and so will have more free time to write, wahoo! This story is all plotted out so hopefully it won't take me long to finish it!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

As soon as they’d left the bookshop, Warlock had congratulated Crowley on a) not making too much of a fool himself (as he was apparently liable to do), b) calling Aziraphale an ‘expert’ on the books (because apparently it’s a good idea to pay someone you like compliments) and c) taking his hint at the end and telling Aziraphale that it had been nice to see him (‘I can’t believe you weren’t even going to say that! You’re lucky I was there to be honest, Crowley’).

Warlock had also asked if he’d been a good wingman. Crowley had simply grunted noncommittally in response. In fairness, it could have been much worse.

Later that night, Crowley was once again sitting on his bed, actually wearing his black silk pyjamas this time, and smiling to himself as he waited for Aziraphale to join the Zoom call. When he did, Aziraphale absolutely beamed at him, and Crowley’s stomach performed a somersault in response.

“Hello, Crowley.”

“Hey.”

“You look lovely. Those pyjamas look very soft.”

“Yeah, they are,” Crowley said with a smile, trying not to think about how much he would have liked Aziraphale to have been able to investigate the softness of the pyjamas for himself.

“It was so good to actually see you earlier.”

“Yeah, it was amazing.” Crowley smiled at Aziraphale fondly, replaying the memory of their meeting in his mind and using it to build up a more complete picture than what he could actually see on the screen in front of him.

“You’re taller than I was imagining.”

“Oh yeah? You’re even more gorgeous than I was imagining.”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale blushed, and Crowley nibbled his bottom lip. This already felt different from their previous conversations. They’d actually met now. Yes, they’d stayed roughly two metres apart the whole time, but they’d actually existed in the same physical space for a while. Now when Crowley looked at Aziraphale, he felt an even stronger connection to him, an even more powerful attraction.

And… I know what your hand feels like now,” Crowley added with a wink.

Aziraphale laughed. “I suppose you do. And what are you going to do with that information?”

“What are you comfortable with me doing with that information?” Crowley teased.

“Anything you want.”

Anything?” Crowley asked with a quirk of one eyebrow, leaning in closer to the camera and slipping his hand beneath the open collar of his pyjama shirt, trailing his fingertips over his collarbone. “You sure?”

“I’m very sure. That’s something I’d love to see.”

“Oh… wow.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, that was rather forward of me!” Aziraphale brought his hands up to his face. Crowley was eager to reassure him, a pleasant warmth already starting to build in his abdomen, fuelled by the way Aziraphale was looking at him.

“Don’t be sorry. That’s hot. I’ve told you before; I love it when you say things like that.”

“I know, thank you. But on this occasion, we’ve only been talking for a couple of minutes.”

“I don’t mind going a little fast tonight,” Crowley said softly, raising his eyebrows. Aziraphale lowered his hands to his lap and Crowley smiled to see that he was blushing. It was adorable. They’d had more than a few conversations of this nature by this point (by now Crowley had heard all sorts of lovely things described to him in Aziraphale’s outrageously sexy voice), so the fact that Aziraphale had become flustered on this occasion made Crowley wonder whether Aziraphale wasn’t just saying it this time, maybe it was something he actually wanted to happen. The warmth Crowley had been experiencing erupted into something more resembling a blazing fire as he imagined touching himself and letting Aziraphale watch. That was one step they hadn’t actually taken before.

“Thank you, Crowley. It’s just that actually seeing you earlier... I’ve never felt quite like that before. To experience such a powerful desire to reach out and touch you, to know that my feelings were reciprocated, and for there to be nothing but the emptiness of the space between us, and yet be held in place by an unseen force beyond anything my instincts could ever understand… It was all rather intense. I’ve never felt so strongly attracted to anyone.”

“I understand exactly what you mean. I felt the same way.”

Crowley watched as Aziraphale inhaled deeply and clasped his hands together in front of him.

“So…” Crowley drawled, resting his chin on his hand. “Did you mean that you actually want me to…?”

Aziraphale chuckled breathlessly and shook his head.

“Ok," Crowley said softly. "I wasn’t sure if it was something you actually wanted to do or just something you wanted to talk about.”

“To be honest, I do think that could be very enjoyable, it just feels a bit like we’d be doing things in the wrong order.”

“You mean you’d prefer dinner and a show?” Crowley joked. Aziraphale laughed openly then, a grin lingering on his face afterwards.

“You could put it like that. You have quite the effect on me, you know, Crowley.”

“Likewise. You know, maybe we should have dinner together.”

“We can’t,” Aziraphale said sadly, “that would be breaking all the rules.”

“No, I mean, like this.” Crowley flapped his hands and waved his arms around a bit. “We can both eat at the same time, and we can talk, so it’d basically be like being at a restaurant.”

“Oh… that’s a lovely idea.”

“Great. Have you eaten yet tonight?”

“Yes, have you?”

“Yeah. How about tomorrow though? Click you up at 7?”

Crowley clamped his mouth shut and cringed.

“Did you just say…?”

“Yes, I did, and I regret it immensely already, possibly more than anything else I have ever said in my entire life, so if you could forget those words ever left my mouth I will be grateful until the end of days.”

Aziraphale chuckled fondly. “Fair enough. Well then, it’s a date.”

“Yes, a date. A proper date.” Crowley had no hope of restraining the silly grin that spread over his face. “It really was so good to see you earlier. Speaking of which…” Crowley began, and then waved a parcel in front of the camera. It was his present from Aziraphale, which was obviously a book, although Crowley couldn’t discern more than that as it was wrapped in brown paper with a note on it requesting that he not open it until they spoke that evening.

“You’d like to open your present?”

“Obviously.”

Aziraphale laughed. “Go ahead, my dear.”

Crowley grinned excitedly and tore open the paper, revealing a book, of course, with a postcard on top. The postcard depicted a beautiful nebula in all the colours of the rainbow against a backdrop of the deep, expansive blackness of space, dotted with twinkling stars. Crowley turned the postcard over.

‘You put stars in my night sky. Now the constellations spell out your name. John Mark Green.’

“Aww thank you, that’s really sweet.”

Aziraphale tilted his head and smiled back at him, and Crowley wondered how it was possible for even Aziraphale's handwriting to be hot.

Crowley placed the postcard down on the bed beside him and looked at the cover of the book. It looked old (Crowley’s level of ability to appraise books didn’t extend much beyond whether they looked ‘old’ or ‘new’, ‘thick’ or ‘thin’) but well looked-after, with a plain, deep green cover that provided no clues as to what the book was about. He turned it on its side to read the spine: The System of the Stars, Agnes M. Clerke.

Crowley opened the book, which confirmed his suspicion that it was old - the date printed at the front of the book revealing it was published in 1890. He turned a few pages, finding old-fashioned star charts and black and white photographs of astronomical phenomena amongst the text.

“You told me you enjoy stargazing, so I thought you might find it interesting,” Aziraphale said quietly, as if he felt the need to justify his choice of gift. It was then that Crowley realised that he hadn’t actually given Aziraphale any indication that he liked it, he’d been too distracted by both the book itself and the fact that Aziraphale had given him something so precious and personal. He needed to rectify that immediately.

“This is incredible! It’s a first edition, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Fucking hell! Sorry, but… wow, this is amazing! Have you seen the photography in this?”

Crowley glanced up from the book to see Aziraphale smiling nervously at him.

“Yes, I have.”

“It’s gorgeous! I really don’t know what to say! Thank you so much!”

“Thank you, Crowley, I’m so pleased you like it.”

“I don’t just like it, I love it! You’re… I… I’m speechless. This is so thoughtful, thank you! It’s so unfair that I can’t hug you,” Crowley growled.

“I agree. You’ll have to owe me one.”

“When it’s finally legal, I don’t think I’m ever going to stop hugging you.”

“Are you anticipating that I’ll apply a very high rate of interest to your hug debt?”

“Maybe. Any excuse, really.”

“Well, I am thoroughly looking forward to that.”

“Seriously, thank you, Aziraphale. This means so much to me. I can’t wait to read it, and I promise I’ll treat it very well. It’s already one of my most prized possessions,” Crowley admitted, placing his hand reverently over the cover.

“Thank you, my dear. That means a great deal to me.”

 


 

“You look stunning,” Aziraphale praised, his eyes roving over one half of the screen, appraising Crowley’s image on the screen. Crowley’s heart quickened and he could feel the blood rush to his cheeks.

“Well… s’a dinner date, right? Wanted to make an effort.”

“You look extraordinarily handsome.”

Crowley self-consciously ran his hand through his hair, using the image provided by his camera in Zoom to check he didn’t mess it up too badly. For the first time in years (since the last family wedding, in fact), Crowley was wearing a suit. More specifically, he was wearing his sleek, black, impeccably-tailored designer suit, with his smartest dark grey button-up shirt and a black tie patterned with constellations. He’d hoped for a positive reaction from Aziraphale, but he hadn’t expected him to look at him quite like this, like he was more interested in eating him than his dinner.

Not yet, anyway.

“Thanks. You look amazing too.”

Aziraphale was dressed in a crisp white shirt with a smart black waistcoat over it, the look finished off with a deep crimson bowtie, which Crowley was already visualising removing.

“Oh, thank you, you’re very kind. I was hoping you would like it, I’ve noticed your preference for these colours.”

Butterflies started fluttering around in Crowley’s stomach at the thought that Aziraphale had dressed in a particular way for him. He’d done the same, of course, but the thought of Aziraphale carefully selecting his outfit with Crowley in mind did all sorts of wonderful things to him. Anticipation thrummed through his blood. This was really starting to feel like a proper date.

“I actually first wore this for a magic show,” Aziraphale continued. “The colours are supposed to coordinate with the playing cards, you see.”

“You were performing magic?”

“Yes, for my nephew’s birthday party, although it was all a bit of a disaster, I’m afraid.”

“Oh I doubt that, I’m sure you gave them all a party to remember.”

“To remember how much of a disaster it was, perhaps.”

“So I won’t be able to persuade you to perform some magic for me then?” Crowley pouted.

“I might let you tempt me, but not tonight. I need time to prepare.”

“I'll look forward to it. Do you have a top hat? I bet you look amazing in a top hat.”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Where else would I pull my rabbit from?”

Crowley touched his hand to his face, his cheeks aching again from smiling so much.

“Point taken. So, where’s your dinner?” he asked, squinting and leaning forward as if that would afford him a better view of what was in front of Aziraphale beyond the limits of the camera frame.

“I’m hiding it.”

“Why?”

“So we can talk for a few minutes and then I can put it in front of me as though a waiter has just brought it over.”

“You’re adorable. Don’t want it to get cold though.”

“Maybe just one minute?”

Crowley grinned and relented, moving his own dinner, which he’d brought into the bedroom with him, to the side.

Crowley had confided in Harriet about his date with Aziraphale. He’d even told her how they met, given that sooner or later Warlock was bound to figure out that they were actually dating (perhaps the only reason he hadn’t deduced this fact already was the sheer vastness of his surety in Crowley’s ineptitude), and then would inevitably mention it. Better to be honest from the start. It was also better to be honest than to try to come up with another reasonable explanation for declining joining the family for dinner at the table earlier, or worse, forcing himself to eat dinner twice.

His absence from the dinner table had undoubtedly been noticed by Warlock, but Crowley would deal with that when the time came.

“How has your day been?” Aziraphale asked politely.

“Oh you know, not bad. Things are easier now with Warlock being back in school. No fires. No serious injuries. No pigeon incidents.”

“Pigeon incidents?”

“You don’t want to know. How was your day?”

“Not bad, thank you. I had quite a few customers but everyone has been very respectful of the rules so far.”

“That’s great. Oh, looks like our food is coming,” Crowley announced, looking over to the blank wall on the other side of the room. Aziraphale smiled in the way he always did when Crowley played along with something for his benefit.

“Remarkable service, we should come here again.”

“Wait until you try the food first.”

“Good point.”

Crowley picked up his plate, flourishing it in front of the camera, and then cleared his throat.

“For your sir,” he began in an exaggeratedly posh voice, “we have the ‘Crowley stocked up on tinned tomatoes and pasta at the beginning of the lockdown and is now gradually working his way through them, served with a lone onion he randomly found in a crate full of limes in Tesco’.”

“Oh lovely, now I wish I’d ordered that,” Aziraphale joked, peering down at Crowley’s dinner via the screen.

“Your turn to be the waiter.”

“Ah, yes…” There was no need for Aziraphale to put on an exaggeratedly posh voice, it was his default setting. “And for you sir, we have the ‘Waitrose microwaveable cottage pie for one’.”

Aziraphale set his plate down in front of himself and inhaled deeply, making a small appreciative sound that Crowley appreciated in and of itself.

“Waitrose? Bit posh, isn’t it?” he teased, even though he could hardly imagine Aziraphale shopping anywhere else.

“Needs must, my dear. I couldn’t get a delivery slot for any of the others.”

“Whatever you say, I just hope you weren’t planning on us splitting the bill fifty-fifty.”

“Let’s call this one my treat.”

“Thanks, that’s very kind of you. You gonna let me have dessert too?”

“I think perhaps some form of after dinner treat is in order, wouldn’t you agree?”

The butterflies in Crowley’s stomach intensified.

“Yeah, I’d really like that, if you would.”

“Yes, very much,” Aziraphale said coyly, looking away from the camera and taking a bite of his meal.

“How is it?”

Aziraphale moaned softly around his mouthful of food. Crowley stopped breathing for a second.

“Scrumptious!”

“Well it is from Waitrose, I should bloody well hope so.”

“And yours?”

Crowley scooped up some of the pasta onto his fork and tried to look enthusiastic about it as he chewed and swallowed it.

A reliable supply of vegetables that I can go and buy whenever I want, that’s what I really miss.

“Very nice.”

“Wonderful. We should send our compliments to the chef.”

“Do you ever actually do that?”

“Of course I do.”

“I think you and I probably tend to eat in very different restaurants.”

“Well, when this is all over, perhaps you can introduce me to some of your favourites?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Crowley teased.

“That seems fair,” Aziraphale agreed, a discernible blush peppering his cheeks.

As they ate their meals, Crowley was vaguely able to imagine that he and Aziraphale actually were having a proper dinner together. He even considered using his phone to play a restaurant ambience track, complete with the muffled conversations of other diners and the clinking of cutlery on plates, but the article he’d read about Zoom fatigue had taught him that probably wouldn’t work very well. Apparently the brain wasn’t very good at recognising what was supposed to be ‘background noise’ when all the sounds were coming from the same distance and direction. But even without the sights, sounds and smells of a real restaurant, it still felt like a real date. Crowley became absorbed in his conversation with Aziraphale as he ate his meal, knowing that even if there had been hundreds of distractions around him, he would still have simply focused on nothing other than the incredible man right in front of him.

The sounds Aziraphale made as he savoured his posh little cottage pie certainly helped maintain Crowley’s attention too.

When they’d both finished and allowed the imaginary waiter to clear their plates away for them (Crowley put his on the floor out of sight, hoping he would remember he’d done that and not end up stepping on it), Aziraphale took a deep breath.

“So, what are you in the mood for now?”

“You,” Crowley replied without missing a beat.

Notes:

I do also often wear red, black and white when performing magic. ;-)

Chapter 8: One Metre Apart

Summary:

Social distancing regulations are revised, meaning Crowley and Aziraphale now only have to stay *one* metre apart.

Notes:

Some of this chapter ended up getting a bit sad, I'm sorry.... But, you might have noticed I've finally updated the chapter count - it should be 12 chapters in total so there's not too long to go, and I do, of course, promise a happy ending! <3

cw - usual covid-related psychological struggles and mention of covid-related job losses

Chapter Text

Crowley had never been more grateful for the size of the Dowlings’ outrageously expensive, ostentatious Mayfair home, particularly the fact that his bedroom was on an entirely different floor to theirs. Since his mom and dad had returned from America, Crowley had been even more confident that Warlock wouldn’t disturb him in his bedroom, and he really wanted to be guaranteed privacy right now.

“Could you be more specific?” Aziraphale asked, his voice low and teasing.

“I could, if you want. What are you in the mood for?”

“I think I’d like to see more of you.”

“I can arrange that,” Crowley drawled, loosening the knot in his tie and then pulling it free from his collar. “I’d like to see more of you too. There’s something I’ve been wondering about all evening.”

“Oh yes? What would that be?”

“Whether or not you’re wearing braces under that waistcoat.”

“I wish I could invite you to find out for yourself.”

Crowley made a pained sort of sound and bit his bottom lip. “Fuck, I’d love that. Sliding my hands up over it and then taking my time carefully undoing the buttons one by one.”

“I’d love that too.”

“Want to do it for me?”

Aziraphale nodded and began unbuttoning his waistcoat, but his fingers kept slipping. It looked like he might be trembling.

“You ok?”

“Yes, I’m just a little nervous.”

“We don’t have to do this.”

“I want you, Crowley.”

“I want you too, but let’s slow down a minute, yeah? Thinking about something like this is very different from actually doing it, it’s ok if you don’t want to.”

Aziraphale sighed and dropped his hands to his lap, his waistcoat left half-unbuttoned.

“I don’t know how to explain how I’m feeling. I'm so attracted to you, Crowley, I’ve never felt so attracted to anybody before, and it could be a long time before we have any other way of… you know… expressing these particular kinds of feelings.”

“I know, and that sucks, but that day will come eventually and we’ll be able to touch each other and I’m sure it’ll be amazing. For now we’ll have to make do with what we’ve got, but we shouldn’t do anything you’re not a hundred percent comfortable with. I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“Thank you, Crowley.”

“Do you ever touch yourself and think of me? Maybe that’s a good way to go? You said you were comfortable with me doing that.”

“I haven’t done that, no. I did want to, but you didn’t actually say…”

“Fuck, you’re right, I’m sorry! I’m totally ok with that! I’d like it if you did that! If there’s ever anything you want, please just ask me and we can talk about it, you don’t have to wait for me to say. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“I do, thank you, Crowley. I suppose everything just feels so much more awkward via Zoom, or in public, for that matter. I just want to be close to you, and to be somewhere with you where we can actually be alone.”

“I know, I want that too.”

“I don’t want to let you down.”

“You’re not, please don’t ever think that! It’s ok!” Crowley shuffled closer to his laptop, the urge to reach out and hug Aziraphale unbearable. How had his body and mind not learnt by now that to do so was impossible? Aziraphale dipped his head and scrubbed his hands across his face, and Crowley’s heart felt like it was being squeezed. “Aziraphale, it’s ok.”

“This is so hard!”

“I know. What can I do?”

“You don’t need to do anything; I’m all right, really. I just think that recently things have been getting to me more than I realised. Do you remember what we talked about when I first went to one of those online wine tasting events? It sometimes feels like there’s just this expectation to get on with it, to adjust to the ‘new normal’, as if everything real can just be replaced by something digital. We’d already lost so much connection in our lives before this even started. This isn’t natural, Crowley. Our bodies and brains aren’t built for this.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.” Crowley swallowed back the lump in his throat, his eyes pricking with tears. He desperately wished there was something more he could say. Aziraphale closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I don’t want to ruin our evening.”

“You’re not. If you want to keep talking about how the world’s gone to shit, you know I’ll listen.”

“Thank you, but I don’t want to do that, I want… I still want to…” Aziraphale squeezed his hands together in front of him.

“It’s ok, you can tell me.”

“I liked what we were doing. I liked the way you were talking to me, and the way you were looking at me. I don’t want to take things very far, I think I’d like to wait until we can actually be together for that, but I'd still certainly like to see more of you, if you want that as well?”

“In a bit, yeah," Crowley said with a small smile.

“I’m sorry to have brought down the mood.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m just worried about you.”

“Please don’t be. I’ll be fine.” Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Would you mind if I made some hot cocoa? That normally helps me to feel a little better.”

“Of course I don’t mind. See you in a bit.”

As soon as Aziraphale disappeared, Crowley deactivated his camera, took a deep breath and released it slowly, then let himself fall back onto the bed. He felt like quitting his job. As a member of Harriet and Tad’s household, Crowley was automatically restricted to seeing only the people that they chose to form a ‘support bubble’ with, which included Harriet’s mom, who had come over from America with them to avoid being alone during this whole shitshow.

Aziraphale had formed a bubble too, with his best friend Tracy and her husband. Crowley was just glad that Aziraphale wasn’t alone. Apparently Tracy had even hugged him. Crowley had never met the woman but still found himself envying her. At this moment, though, Crowley couldn’t help but visualise quitting his job and moving out, so he wouldn’t have to be in Tad and Harriet’s bubble anymore, and begging Aziraphale to bubble with him instead of Tracy.

Of course, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of Crowley finding another job that would pay well enough for him to live alone in London, and that was even under normal circumstances. Jobs weren’t exactly easy to come by right now, and not only were there fewer vacancies, there were more applicants for each job, what with so many people being made redundant as a result of the pandemic.

Not to mention, for everything he said about Warlock being a little shit (which in fairness he was, he was clearly an absolute little shit), Crowley actually loved his job. He’d been looking after Warlock since the boy was five years old, he was like a son to him. Crowley didn’t want to leave his job, and it would be fine, wouldn’t it? They’d be fine. They’d get through it somehow. They had to.

Crowley took a few more deep breaths and tried to clear his mind. Aziraphale evidently wanted to try to move on from what they’d just been talking about, and Crowley wanted that too. It was too easy to get sucked into the dark thoughts about what was happening now, and those inevitably led to even darker thoughts about where the world was going. It wouldn’t do any good to let himself sink too far into it, not if he could help it.

Besides, he reminded himself, he still really wanted to know whether Aziraphale was wearing braces underneath his waistcoat. Crowley decided to focus on that for now.

“Crowley, are you still there?”

Crowley sat back up and put his camera back on.

“Yeah, I’m here.”  He smiled as Aziraphale took a sip of his cocoa from a white mug adorned with wings. “Nice mug. Very fitting.”

“How do you mean?”

“Angel wings for an angel,” Crowley said sweetly. Aziraphale looked at him sceptically. “It’s ok, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone your secret identity. Though, to be honest, if you want people to stop suspecting that you’re an actual real life angel, you should probably stop being so lovely and perfect.”

“I suppose I’d better take that under advisement,” Aziraphale said with a smile before taking another sip.

“Good, you should. How’s the cocoa?”

“It’s very nice, thank you. Although it is making me a little warm.”

Crowley grinned and ran his hand through his hair. It flopped annoyingly around his face. God, he missed hairdressers.

“Yeah, that happens. Anything you can do about that?” he asked suggestively.

“I think there might be.”

They were both smiling at each other now, and the ache in Crowley’s chest started to diminish. Aziraphale kept his eyes locked on the camera as he unfastened the remaining buttons on his waistcoat before sliding it off his shoulders.

“I knew it!” Crowley announced delightedly, thrilled that the sight of Aziraphale in his black braces triggered the stirrings of arousal once again.

“You only suspected,” Aziraphale corrected playfully.

“I was right, that means I knew. Fuck, you look incredible.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale brought his hands to his throat and removed his bowtie as well, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt.

“If you roll your sleeves up now I might actually pass out.”

“Do you want me to do that?”

“Do I want to pass out? Hmm, yeah, go on then. I’m on my bed, it’s safe.”

Aziraphale laughed softly and the sound of it tugged at Crowley’s heart.

Please be happy. I really want you to be happy.

Aziraphale slowly and deliberately unfastened his cufflinks, setting them down beside him, before locking eyes with the camera again as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. Crowley’s eyes widened and he licked his lips, realising that he’d actually started salivating. One day he’d get to see Aziraphale like this for real, and he’d actually be able to touch him. The anticipation was driving him crazy.

“You look amazing. Seriously, you’re gorgeous. Do you mind if I just look at you for a minute?”

“Of course not, but could I ask you to do something first?”

“Absolutely. Anything.”

“Could you unbutton your shirt for me?”

“’Course. Want me to leave the jacket on or take it off?”

“Leave it on, I think. It really suits you.”

“As you wish.” Crowley winked, bringing his hands up to the top button of his shirt.

 


 

“Hey, have you read the latest government announcement?”

“Not yet, no.”

“From Saturday we can be one metre apart!” Crowley informed Aziraphale excitedly. It would be much easier to arrange a bit of sneaky hand holding from one metre apart.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, as long as it’s outdoors and we both wear masks.”

Once again Crowley found himself desperately wishing that he and Aziraphale could have formed a bubble together. Then they wouldn’t have to be any metres apart.

“Well, I know you’re generally busy at weekends, but I could close the shop for an hour at lunchtime on Monday perhaps? Oh, we could go to St James’s Park to feed the ducks!”

“I’d had the same thought.”

“Splendid! I’ll bring some oats, I ordered some in bulk for baking flapjacks!”

“Perfect. Meet you at the duck pond then?”

“Yes, I’ll be there at about ten past twelve. I’m looking forward to it already!”

 


 

Crowley was standing by the railings in front of the duck pond in St James’s Park, watching a black swan repeatedly upend, reaching its long neck down to the bottom of the pond to eat whatever it was down there that justified the effort. He had his hands shoved into his pockets, one of them wrapped around a small bottle of hand sanitiser. It was always good to be prepared.

He had arrived at twelve o’clock, the time when Aziraphale would be closing up the bookshop for lunch, to make sure he was here first to avoid wasting a second of their available time together. He kept glancing behind him every twenty seconds or so to try to spot Aziraphale coming down the path towards him. He probably looked a bit shifty, but all sorts of shifty business happened in St James’s Park, so it was unlikely that anyone would bat an eyelid. Crowley was pretty sure half the people hanging around the duck pond were secret agents passing documents and briefcases to each other from an approved distance.

Crowley drew in a deep breath to try to settle his nerves, his mask being sucked against his face in the process. His watch revealed that it was 12.09pm, Aziraphale would be here any second. The next time Crowley turned to look over his shoulder, he saw the man himself heading towards him and giving him a silly little wave.

Ridiculous. Adorable.

Crowley was, for once, relieved to be wearing a mask; the huge grin on his face might have been a little off-putting for the random passers-by.

“Hello Crowley,” Aziraphale greeted him brightly from behind his own mask, taking a moment to look at the ground, presumably trying to ascertain if he was indeed one metre away.

“Hey, Aziraphale.”

“This actually feels much better, doesn’t it?”

Aziraphale clasped his hands together in front of him, and then, as if realising that this brought him slightly closer to Crowley, stepped a couple of inches back.

“It does. It’s only our faces that need to be a metre apart, presumably,” Crowley pointed out.

“Ah, yes, of course.” Aziraphale shuffled closer. “I do wish I could see your face.”

“Yeah, me too, but it’s still really good to see you. You look great.”

“Thank you, so do you.”

“You brought the stuff?” Crowley asked, doing his best impersonation of a secret agent. It might have worked better if he’d been wearing his usual sunglasses, but the only way he’d found to avoid them steaming up was to wear two masks, and it was much too hot for that.

Aziraphale lifted the bag of oats and nodded discreetly. Crowley was pretty sure he’d cottoned on to what he was attempting to do.

“You’ve only got one bag. Seems like if we’re both going to have the opportunity to feed the ducks, you’re going to have to hand it over to me.”

“I do believe you’re right.”

Aziraphale reached into the bag and threw a handful of oats out onto the pond. What could fairly be characterised as a swarm of ducks began hurriedly paddling over, a few of them jostling with each other for access to the oats while two of the more sensible ducks just got on with eating them.

“Here you are, my dear.”

Aziraphale held out the bag towards him, and Crowley discreetly glanced over his shoulder one more time before reaching out to take it. He would have made a poor secret agent, though, since he didn’t just quickly seize the bag and retract his arm. He gently placed his hand over Aziraphale’s and tenderly stroked his fingers across the back of it. His skin was so incredibly soft and warm. Aziraphale sighed softly.

“This ok?”

“Yes, it feels wonderful. One metre really is much better, isn’t it?”

Crowley could hear Aziraphale’s smile in his voice and squeezed his hand gently.

“It certainly is.”

Crowley took hold of the bag of oats and began throwing some to the ducks, many of whom were now huddled up against the railing, having become impatient with the delay. With a ridiculous grin on his face, he then held the bag back out towards Aziraphale. It should have felt silly and childish, getting so excited over surreptitiously grazing hands with the man his was dating, but he really didn’t care. It was exhilarating. As soon as he felt Aziraphale’s strong, warm hand wrap around his own, Crowley’s heart fluttered and his stomach swooped like he’d just gone over the top of a really steep rollercoaster. Aziraphale began to draw delicate patterns over the back of his hand with his fingertips, which made Crowley’s skin tingle, a prickling sensation travelling up his arm. He wondered whether the intensity of his physiological response could be put down to ‘the situation’, although he suspected it was primarily due to Aziraphale. No one had ever been able to make him feel like this through such a simple touch.

“That feels amazing.”

Aziraphale swept his palm across the back of Crowley’s hand and then took the bag of oats back from him, throwing a few more handfuls to the ducks.

“How’s your morning been?”

“Quite quiet actually. Perhaps the novelty of being able to access non-essential retail again has worn off already. Not that I’m complaining. If I had it my way I’d keep all of my books.”

“Well, that just makes me feel even more honoured that you chose to give one of them to me.”

“Have you finished reading it?”

“Not quite, but I’m really enjoying it. It’s so interesting to see the perspectives people had on astronomical phenomena back then, but in many ways she seems a bit ahead of her time.”

“Yes, I had that impression too. Have you had a good morning?”

“Not bad. Got Warlock to school without incident and managed to successfully procure vegetables, so all in all, can’t complain.”

The bag of oats exchanged hands again, Crowley’s touch lingering even longer this time.

“Did you hear they’re beginning clinical trials now for the vaccine being developed in Oxford?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yeah, fingers crossed it all goes well. This might all be over before we know it. Just a momentary blip in the grand scheme of things.”

“I do hope so. What’s the first thing you’ll do when you’ve been vaccinated?”

“Hug you. If it’s legal by then. It’s got to be legal by then, hasn’t it?”

“I should think so.”

“What about you?”

“I shall be thoroughly enjoying hugging you back.”

Crowley grinned and passed the bag of oats back to Aziraphale, only a few left inside now. Once Aziraphale had finished them off and the ducks had slinked off disappointedly once no further oats were forthcoming, Aziraphale and Crowley decided to go for a walk through the park. If Crowley ignored the fact that they, and most of the other people they encountered, were wearing masks, it actually felt pretty normal. One metre apart. That was doable. He could tolerate a metre apart.

After a leisurely lap around the park and some pleasant conversation, Aziraphale glanced at his watch and sighed.

“I’d better be getting back to the bookshop.”

“Yeah, ok,” Crowley said sadly. It seemed like every moment he’d spent with Aziraphale had drawn him closer, metaphorically speaking of course, like he was being pulled into a tight orbit from which it would be difficult to ever break free. Not that he thought he would ever want to. His heart clenched, an ache spreading throughout his chest, all of his instincts crying out to him not to let Aziraphale go, to close the one metre distance and take him into his arms. “I should go too. Tad and Harriet want me to look into this sailing club thing for Warlock. They’re trying to find activities he can do to get him out the house that are actually running right now, and apparently Harriet’s dad was into sailing.”

“Is Warlock interested in sailing?”

“He thinks it’s ‘dumb’, but since that sums up his feelings about most things, who knows, we might be able to persuade him to give it a go. He’ll probably just try to ram the other kids’ boats and capsize them, but he’ll enjoy that, I guess.”

“Right, well then. I suppose I’ll… see you when I see you.”

“Yeah. Let’s do this again sometime.”

“Yes, absolutely.” Aziraphale sighed. “I really want to hold your hand properly before I go.”

“I think we can get away with that,” Crowley said with a wink, once again with a furtive glance over both shoulders.

“Anyone looking?”

“Nobody.”

They both quickly reached out and clasped their hands together. Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand and once again made an effort to commit the feel of it to memory, his eyes stinging as he fought back the tears that began to gather there.

It’ll be ok. It’ll be over soon. It has to be over soon. Doesn’t it?

Chapter 9: Nightmare

Summary:

Crowley is interrupted while talking to Aziraphale in the middle of the night.

Notes:

Thank you all for your kudos and lovely comments, I'm so glad so many of you are enjoying this story! <3 I'm sorry for all the sad bits, I promise it will get happier!

cw - mention of Warlock not being given much attention by his parents; dream involving covid-related hospitalisation, ventilation and ventilator being switched off

Chapter Text

August 2020

“Hey,” Crowley whispered. “Thanks for doing this.”

“It’s all right. I’m sorry you’re having trouble getting to sleep.”

“Well, I get to talk to you, so it’s not all bad. You sure you don’t need to go to sleep yet?”

“You know I don’t tend to sleep very much. I’m more than happy to keep you company.”

It was just after midnight. After tossing, turning and lying awake for a couple of hours, Crowley had taken a chance and texted Aziraphale, hoping he would still be awake. He was now curled up in bed with his laptop beside him, connected to Zoom.

“Thanks, angel.”

“Is there something on your mind, perhaps?”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s been a bit stressful here. Looks like Tad might need an operation on his knee but the waiting lists are insane right now what with everything, plus Harriet doesn’t really want him going in for an operation while all this is going on anyway, you know, just in case. It’s the school holidays now too, obviously, so everything’s a bit more manic with Warlock around all the time again. It’s not easy to keep him entertained when we can’t really go anywhere. It just feels a bit like everyone’s resilience is lower than normal. Stuff that’d normally be easy to brush off or just deal with seems inordinately overwhelming.”

“Yes, I can relate to that. Was there anything you wanted me to do to help you relax?”

“There was something I was hoping you might try, yeah.”

“Do go on.”

“I was thinking I could plug in my earphones, and just have one of them in, so it would kind of feel like you were whispering in my ear.”

“Is that something you’ve thought about before?”

“Honestly, yeah. I love your voice, it’s one of the things I’ve been looking forward to for when we can eventually be close to each other.”

“I’ll remember that,” Aziraphale murmured softly. “Go on then, plug in your earphones and I’ll try to think of some nice things to say to you.”

Crowley tried to tone down his excited grin and quietly opened the top drawer of his bedside cabinet, withdrawing his earphones, which had somehow tangled themselves up into a ridiculous knot. He was aware of Aziraphale silently watching him as he tugged at various parts of the messy bundle of wire, illuminated only by the glowing light from the laptop screen. He finally managed to untangle them and plugged the jack into the socket, nestling one of the earphones comfortably in place.

“Right, well, why don’t you get yourself nice and comfortable and settled?” Aziraphale began, keeping his voice deep and rumbling in a way that Crowley knew was intentional. Crowley bit his bottom lip hard. “How is this so far?”

“Ohhh it’s good.”

“Really?”

“Mmm.”

“Would you like me to read poetry to you?”

“Oh God, yes.” Crowley experienced an intense rush inside of him. He was supposed to be relaxing and trying to sleep, but this was going to be fun, and even if he didn’t sleep, at least it would take his mind off things. “This is amazing, angel. Even better than I imagined.”

“Well, I’m very happy to hear that,” Aziraphale drawled, still speaking softly and slowly, eliciting shivers that skittered down Crowley’s spine. “Perhaps I could start with some Shakespeare. Something romantic.”

“Mmm.” Crowley took a deep breath and rolled onto his back with his eyes closed, feeling like he was sinking into the mattress. “Give it to me, angel.”

Aziraphale chuckled in his ear, and a thrill shiver prickled at the base of Crowley’s spine. He felt warm and tingly and calmly exhilarated. He closed his eyes and snuggled into the duvet. This was going to be so, so good.

Just as Aziraphale began to read to him, Crowley was instantly and unceremoniously pulled out of his state of impending serenity when he heard his name being called from the other side of his bedroom door. His eyes flashed open.

“Crowley! Crowley!”

His heart jolted and then began pounding in a fierce rhythm.

Warlock…”

Crowley tugged frantically on the cable to pull the earphone free and scrambled up from the bed. He barely registered Aziraphale saying, “Go, I’ll talk to you later,” as he rushed to the door and forcefully yanked it open. Warlock instantly threw himself into his arms, and Crowley squeezed him tightly against his body. The boy was trembling violently and sobbed into Crowley’s pyjama shirt. Crowley’s heart clenched.

“Shh, it’s ok, it’s ok,” Crowley soothed, holding Warlock with one arm and using his free hand to stroke his hair. “You’re ok, it’s all right. What happened?”

Warlock simply squeezed him tighter, and for a while the two of them just stood there in the doorway, with Crowley lovingly stroking his hand through Warlock’s hair and over his back, trying to help him settle.

“Come on, come in here, come and sit down on the bed.”

“Don’t go,” Warlock sniffled, seizing the fabric of Crowley’s pyjama shirt in a tight grip.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Crowley whispered soothingly, “come on, let’s sit down.”

With some gentle encouragement, Warlock eventually let Crowley slowly guide him into the room. Crowley quietly closed the door behind them and then sat on the edge of the bed. Warlock climbed up onto it and locked his arms around him once again, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I had a nightmare.”

“Ok, sweetheart, it’s over now, you’re safe now, ok? You’ll feel better soon. Do you want me to wake your parents?”

“No, I want you.”

“Ok, I’m here, it’s all right. You’re ok.”

Crowley held Warlock for a long while, sweeping his hand soothingly up and down his back until eventually he could feel his breathing and the pounding of his heart gradually begin to settle. Crowley took a deep breath, trying to calm himself from the panic he’d experienced when he’d heard Warlock calling out for him.

“That’s it, you’re ok. You’re ok. Do you want to talk about it?”

“It was horrible. You were in the hospital on one of those ventilator things and then they turned it off, and…” Warlock started sobbing again, his body convulsing with it, and Crowley squeezed him tighter.

“Ok, sweetheart, it’s ok. I’m right here and I’m fine, all right? I’m fine, I’m not going anywhere.”

Warlock pulled away a bit, sniffing loudly and wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

“Do you want to lie here with me for a bit until you’re feeling better?”

Warlock nodded, and Crowley patted him gently on the back before climbing fully up onto the bed and moving his laptop out of the way. Aziraphale had disconnected from the Zoom call, the room now more brightly illuminated by the white of the main Zoom application window.

“You want me to put the lamp on?”

Warlock nodded again, and Crowley switched on the lamp on his bedside table before closing the lid of his laptop and putting it, and his earphones, on the floor. He pulled back the covers, wondering for a second whether Warlock would actually get into the bed with him or whether the effects of the adrenaline would have faded enough by now to prompt him to refuse the offer, but the boy crawled under the duvet without hesitation.

Crowley normally slept with two pillows, so he extracted the one from underneath and encouraged Warlock to rest his head on it, the two of them lying in the bed side by side in silence for a little while with their arms looped around each other.

“You had your laptop in the bed with you,” Warlock mumbled against Crowley’s shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“Were you watching…”

“Think very carefully before finishing that sentence.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything inappropriate!” Warlock objected quietly. Crowley didn’t entirely believe him.

“Good.”

“Were you talking to Aziraphale?”

“Yes.”

“You guys are like properly together now, aren’t you?”

“Yes we are.”

“You actually did it.”

“Mmm.”

“Having me as your wingman when you first met him helped, right?”

“Sure.”

“I knew you were together. You seem happier.”

“Yeah, I am.”

They lay in silence for a little while then, and Crowley just focused on the rise and fall of Warlock’s chest pressed up against him, pleased that his breathing seemed to have settled into a normal rhythm now. The sheer force of the love inside him was overwhelming. It made his chest feel like it was about to explode, like his body couldn’t possibly contain it. He pressed his palm firmly against Warlock’s back, channelling all of that love into him.

“Sorry for making fun of you about Aziraphale before.”

“S’ok.”

Warlock shuffled even closer, as close as he could possibly be now, and rested his head on Crowley’s chest, tightening his hold on him.

“I’m really glad you’re happy now.”

Crowley squeezed his eyes closed, trying to hold back his tears.

“Thanks.”

“I’m sorry you can’t like properly go out with Aziraphale.”

“It’s ok. It won’t be forever.”

Warlock once again went quiet, and Crowley was just starting to think he might be falling asleep when the boy tilted his head up to look at him.

“You know when I set fire to that seat cushion in the garden?” he mumbled, apropos of nothing.

“Thought we agreed not to talk about that again,” Crowley grumbled. “And I thought I asked you to scour the garden for all the sharp fragments?”

“I did!”

“Well, you missed one. It got your mom through the sole of her sandal a couple of weeks ago.”

“Did you tell her?”

Crowley sighed. “No, I didn’t tell her.”

“I never told you what I was trying to do when it happened.”

“No.”

“It was a rocket. Well, before it blew up it was a rocket. I was trying to launch it, like a science project. I know you think science is important and you like space and I wanted you to be proud of me.”

That did it. Any control Crowley had over his emotions crumbled away completely and he tightened his hold on Warlock. Little shit, he thought as the tears began to roll down his cheeks.

“You don’t have to do anything to make me proud of you, Warlock. I’m always proud of you. I always have been.”

“That dream was so scary. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re the only one who’s always been there for me.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I told you, I’m not going anywhere.” Crowley sniffed and wiped his eyes with the hand that wasn’t currently stroking Warlock’s back.

Little shit.

“Are you crying?”

“A bit.”

“I’m going to sleep here then. You shouldn’t leave people who are crying on their own.”

Crowley sniffed again and let out a choked sort of sob. He knew Warlock wasn’t staying for his benefit. Warlock wanted to stay, and that meant even more.

“Thanks.”

“’Night, Crowley.”

“Goodnight.”

Once Crowley was confident that Warlock was asleep, he carefully reached over to his bedside table for his phone and sent a quick message to Aziraphale to explain what had happened, the tears refilling his eyes as he rested his palm gently on Warlock’s shoulder blade. This was likely to be the last time that Warlock ever came to him for comfort like this. He was at that age where one minute Crowley felt like he was speaking to an eighteen-year-old ready to leave home, and the next minute he was back to being that little boy who had relied on Crowley for everything, who relished the attention he afforded him while his parents always seemed to have something more ‘important’ to do.

‘I want you.’

I love you so much, you little shit.

 


 

When Crowley woke the next morning, Warlock was no longer beside him. He would probably want to pretend it had never happened, and Crowley was willing to respect that. He rubbed at his ribs trying to dispel the strange ache that was building there.

Crowley was anticipating some weirdness when he went downstairs. He wasn’t anticipating quite the level of weirdness he was actually confronted with. Warlock was unloading the dishwasher. Crowley had never known him to lift a finger to help around the house before.

“Morning.”

Crowley received an indecipherable grunt in return.

“You all right?”

A shrug.

“Ok, good. What you doing?”

“I’m unloading the dishwasher. Obviously.”

“Ok, yeah. Why are you unloading the dishwasher?”

Another shrug.

“Right, well, terrific. Thank you,” Crowley said sincerely. He assumed this was Warlock’s subtle pre-teen way of thanking him for last night and decided to leave it at that. Without looking at him, Warlock held out a clean bowl, and Crowley took it from him. “What about you? Hungry?”

“Already had mine.”

“Ok. What do you want to do today?”

“I really want to finish reading my book.”

“It’s not raining for once, you gonna sit outside?”

“Yeah, think so.”

“Ok. Let me know if you want some company.”

“Thanks. See ya.”

Warlock closed the dishwasher and slinked out of the kitchen. Crowley wondered if he was maybe a bit embarrassed, but trying to initiate a conversation with him about it would probably make it worse.

Crowley sat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen eating his cornflakes and watched through the window as Warlock settled himself onto one of the patio chairs (which had a new cushion, which by some miracle Tad and Harriet had never asked him about) with his copy of War Horse. Since Warlock’s attention was directed on the book, Crowley knew he could get away with smiling fondly at him.

He took his phone out of his pocket and texted Aziraphale, pleased when Aziraphale enthusiastically accepted his offer to talk on Zoom again that night. Crowley still very much wanted Aziraphale to whisper romantic poetry in his ear, after all.

Maybe that would take his mind off how fast Warlock was growing up.

Chapter 10: Stargazing

Summary:

Crowley and Aziraphale go on a stargazing date.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

September 2020

“Warlock’s being weird.”

“In what way?” Aziraphale asked, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

“He’s been weird all summer. Well, not all summer, just since, you know, when he had that nightmare?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“At first I thought he was embarrassed about coming to me in the night like that, showing vulnerability or whatever other bullshit his ‘boys need to be tough’ dad has been putting into his head, but it’s been going on for weeks now.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Stuff. Weird stuff. Like loading the dishwasher. Making his own breakfast. Tidying his room! First day back at school today and I didn’t even have to coax him out of bed! He was up before I was, and he’d already made his own packed lunch! Even with his birthday party last month, he didn’t make a fuss at all. We got all his friends logged onto that Armageddon escape room, you know, the one that you and I did, and he didn’t complain once about not being able to actually go anywhere! Speaking of that, though, you should have seen his face when I offhandedly suggested that maybe the crown belonged to Pollution!” (Crowley couldn’t contain a short burst of diabolical laughter at the memory of that. It was one of his proudest moments.)

“It simply sounds as though young Warlock is maturing. They do grow up fast, don’t they?”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s a bit sudden though, isn’t it? You don’t think he’s started feeling uncomfortable with me helping him with stuff, do you?”

“Oh, no, I’m sure that’s not it, my dear. Children just like to feel independent sometimes, especially approaching their teenage years. Maybe it’s just something about starting year eight, no longer feeling like one of the babies in the school? Try not to worry.”

Crowley sighed. He couldn’t help but worry, especially since this had started after Warlock had had that nightmare. Crowley had analysed to death what the connection might be. What if Warlock was scared that he really could end up alone and would need to know how to be independent and take care of himself?

“That’s easier said than done,” Crowley grumbled, rubbing his hand across his forehead.

“I know. Does he seem well? Does he seem happy?”

“Yeah, I suppose he does. Well, you know, as much as he ever does. Thanks, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled warmly at him, and Crowley had to resist the urge to affectionately stroke the screen of his laptop.

“So, now that young Warlock is back in school, does that mean you and I might be able to see each other a little more often again?”

“It certainly does! We should make the most of the nice weather, shouldn’t we?”

“Gosh, I hadn’t thought of that. It’s not going to be so fun only being able to meet outdoors in the winter.”

“S’all right. Looking at you keeps me warm.”

Aziraphale laughed. “Well, we needn’t worry then.”

“Now that it’s getting dark earlier, I thought maybe we could go stargazing? What do you think? Would be best to do it soon if we’re going to, before it starts getting really cold in the evenings.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful!”

“Saturday night? Weather permitting?”

“Perfect. I’ll bring a blanket. Oh, and a picnic! I can put things in separate containers!”

“I’ll bring the hand sanitiser. And the wine.”

“Lovely. I’m looking forward to it already!”

 


 

They met in St James’s Park at dusk, planning to eat their picnic while watching the stars appear one-by-one as the sky gradually grew darker. They sat on opposite corners of Aziraphale’s luxurious tartan picnic blanket, ensuring they maintained the necessary one metre of distance, the picnic basket in the middle between them.

Aziraphale had prepared all sorts of little sandwiches, snacks, cakes and pastries, each carefully divided up into little Tupperware containers that he’d even labelled so that they wouldn’t risk touching each other’s food. It was outrageously fussy, yet it made Crowley feel all warm inside, the same way he always did when he thought of Aziraphale thinking about him when they weren’t together and preparing something to make him happy.

They did, of course, brush their hands unnecessarily against each other as they reached into the picnic basket to retrieve things at the same time, but by now, they were doing more than that. They had recently decided that the government couldn’t logically have any problem with them holding hands, as long as they sanitised them before and after. If their faces were one metre apart, what difference did it make? So that’s what they’d started doing.

Once they’d finished the food and were both sitting holding a glass of wine, Aziraphale moved the picnic basket to the side and they both reached out to clasp their hands together in the middle of the blanket. Crowley knew he couldn’t ever get enough of holding Aziraphale’s hand, and the gentle, caring sense of security the act instilled in him. Sometimes Aziraphale would rub circles across the back of his hand with his thumb, or lace their fingers together. Sometimes Crowley would become so overwhelmed with feeling that he’d involuntarily squeeze Aziraphale’s hand, a gesture born out of a desperate need for him to feel it, to recognise the power of Crowley’s affection for him. Crowley still yearned for more, but even just this felt amazing.

Aziraphale released Crowley’s hand and began tracing patterns across the back of it with his fingertips. Crowley sighed contentedly and glanced upwards at the constellations now decorating the sky above them.

“Are you going to teach me how to recognise some of them?” Aziraphale asked softly.

“Sure. Yeah. Ok.”

At this point, Crowley really did wish he could shuffle across the blanket and close the distance between them. He wanted to hold Aziraphale close, one arm wrapped around his waist, while he pointed out the different constellations to him. Maybe Aziraphale would rest his head on his shoulder, and then Crowley would kiss the top of his head. If only.

“Right, let’s start with something easy.” Crowley pointed upwards. “You see the one that looks a bit like a saucepan? That one’s called The Plough, it’s technically a star pattern, not a constellation.” Aziraphale was squinting uncertainly at the sky, so Crowley tried to give a more detailed description. “It’s like… um… ok, there’s four stars that make kind of a lopsided box? Do you see it?”

Crowley realised this might have been easier if he’d brought something more visual for Aziraphale to get an idea what the constellations looked like. Oh well.

“Yes, I think so.”

“It has another three stars sort of coming off it, like the handle of a saucepan.”

“Yes, I can see it!”

Aziraphale sounded so excited; Crowley couldn’t help but grin behind his mask. He taught Aziraphale how to find the North Star from The Plough, and pointed out the stars that formed the rest of Ursa Major. They then moved onto another one that Crowley thought should be quite easy for Aziraphale to recognise – Orion.

“You see the three stars close together in a row?” Crowley asked, pointing up in the right direction.

“Yes.”

“That’s Orion’s belt, part of the constellation Orion, the hunter. If you go up from the belt you get to Orion’s armpits… it’s meant to be like he’s got one arm raised and he’s holding a shield out in front of him with the other. You see those stars close together in sort of a curved line?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“That’s the shield, and then hanging from his belt he has his sword. Do you see it?”

“I… oh. Yes. I see it. That’s… meant to be a sword?”

“Yeah. You have to use your imagination a bit with these things.”

“Unusual position to carry a sword.”

“Well…”

“It’s right between his legs! Are you sure it’s meant to be a sword? Not… ah… something else?”

Aziraphale had that naughty twinkle in his eye that Crowley absolutely adored. Crowley tilted his head back and looked up again at Orion, and now all he could focus on was that sequence of stars dangling between the hunter’s invisible legs.

“It’d have to be a pretty big…! Um…”

“Would it?” Aziraphale asked innocently.

“You’re such a bastard; you do know that’s all I’ll ever be able to see when I look at it now, right?”

“You’re very welcome.”

Crowley could perfectly picture the smug smile on Aziraphale’s face and couldn’t help but laugh. He wanted to kiss him so badly.

“I hope that,” Crowley said emphatically, pointing up at Orion, “isn’t what you’re expecting when we finally get to be together.”

Then they were both laughing, and Crowley felt a powerful compulsion to tackle Aziraphale onto the blanket and smother him with kisses. If only.

“Right, well, moving on…” Crowley announced as Aziraphale’s laughter began to subside.

Crowley taught Aziraphale a few more constellations and told him some of the stories behind them, but as the evening went on, he started to feel a little nervous about how Aziraphale would react to what he had planned for them to do next.

They’d barely let go of each other’s hands since they’d finished their picnic, and at this moment, Crowley was lightly stroking Aziraphale’s palm. He decided to let his fingertips trail a little higher, sweeping across the inside of Aziraphale’s wrist, tenderly stroking the sensitive skin there. It wasn’t long before Aziraphale’s attention was no longer directed towards the stars.

“You like that?”

Aziraphale breathed in deeply and kept his eyes trained on Crowley’s hand, watching the movement of his fingers across his skin. Crowley licked his lips.

“Mmm.”

“There’s something else I thought we could do tonight.”

“Oh?”

“We keep talking about wanting to be alone together.” Crowley glanced around at the other people in the park, most of them walking along the lit paths, others sitting on the grass just as Aziraphale and Crowley were. Everyone was minding their own business, but still, it wasn’t the same as being truly alone. “So I had an idea. I asked Harriet if we could maybe continue our date tonight in their garden. There’s a spot at the top that’s really private, and the Dowlings will all be in bed by now. She thought it was a great idea. What do you think?”

“I think that sounds wonderful. I’d love to be alone with you.”

Crowley grinned and wished Aziraphale could see it.

“Great, well then, shall we?”

Aziraphale nodded and they rose to their feet, Crowley watching fondly as Aziraphale first neatly folded the blanket and then rolled it, slipping it inside his picnic basket. Aziraphale looped the handle of the basket over one arm and stretched the other out towards Crowley. Crowley clasped their hands together and they began walking towards Mayfair.

“I’ll just text Harriet to let her know we’re on our way back so she doesn’t worry if she hears us opening the gate.”

“All right, my dear.”

Crowley reluctantly released Aziraphale’s hand and pulled his phone out of his pocket, just sending the message ‘ok’ to Harriet – she would know what that meant. He pocketed his phone and quickly reclaimed Aziraphale’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

They walked mostly in companionable silence, and as much as Crowley wished he could step closer, to have his arm brush up against Aziraphale’s as they walked, he was holding his hand, and they were out, and it was real, and he really hoped Aziraphale would enjoy what he had planned for when they got back to the Dowlings’.

When they arrived, Crowley unlocked the side gate, fighting his instinct to let Aziraphale go ahead of him, as it would be impossible to hold the gate open for him in this position and still stay one metre apart. He led Aziraphale to the secluded area at the top end of the garden, a small lawn surrounded by trees, tall bushes and flower beds. As they rounded the corner, Crowley grinned and turned to Aziraphale, wishing he could see his expression behind his mask. On the ground in front of them was a large picnic blanket surrounded by glass jars housing flickering tea lights, and floating candles drifting peacefully across the surface of Harriet’s prized water feature.

“Oh my goodness, Crowley! This is so romantic!”

“Glad you like it. And before you worry, I didn’t leave the candles lit all evening, Harriet came out and lit them when I texted her.”

“Oh, that was very kind of her!”

“Yeah, she’s been very supportive.”

“I’m very happy to hear that.”

“Why don’t you take your shoes off and get comfortable on the blanket? I just need to fetch something.”

“All right,” Aziraphale said softly, and Crowley could hear him smiling, he could even picture once again exactly how he was smiling at him. He couldn’t wait for the day when they’d actually be able to take their masks off when they were together.

Crowley sauntered over to an upturned plant pot he’d hidden amongst the bushes earlier and retrieved what was underneath it, then headed back over to the blanket to join Aziraphale. Aziraphale was propped up on his elbows with his legs stretched out in front him, his shoes carefully positioned next to each other beside the blanket, the laces tucked neatly inside. He was lying on the far edge of the blanket, and Crowley settled himself along the other edge, just over a metre apart, the object he had retrieved concealed behind his back.

“What did you go to fetch?” Aziraphale asked, his voice oozing curiosity. Crowley grinned even though Aziraphale couldn’t see it and brought his hand around to the front, wiggling the tape measure he was holding in the air.

“I’ve had an idea.”

“Yes?” Aziraphale narrowed his eyes and glanced up from the tape measure to Crowley’s face.

“We only have to keep our faces one metre apart, right?”

“Right.”

“So, if I could touch you while still making sure to keep my face a metre away from yours, would you want me to do that?”

Aziraphale gasped softly and his eyes widened. “Yes. Yes, I’d love that.”

“Perfect.”

Crowley winked and pulled on the tab at the end of the tape until it reached one metre, then locked it into place.

“Lie down for me, please.”

Aziraphale didn’t move, he simply kept his eyes locked on Crowley’s. Crowley watched the bob of his throat as he swallowed.

“You ok?”

“Yes, of course,” Aziraphale replied, his voice a little breathy and shaky. “I just liked that.”

“What?” Crowley asked softly.

“You asking me to do something for you. It was nice.”

Crowley licked his lips, arousal beginning to flare in his gut.

“You can ask me for anything too, you know,” he murmured softly. Aziraphale nodded before settling himself back fully on the blanket. “Now hold this just below your mask.”

Crowley sat next to Aziraphale’s calves and held out the tape measure so that the end was hovering near Aziraphale’s face. Aziraphale took it and held it in position. Crowley’s end of the tape measure reached about to Aziraphale’s knees.

“So if I stay by your feet, I’m allowed as far up as your knees, right? Would you be happy with that?”

“Yes, I’d be very happy with that.”

“Terrific.”

Crowley withdrew the tape measure, pushing the catch up to allow the tape to fully retract before placing it beside the blanket. He shuffled down a bit more and then picked up one of Aziraphale’s tartan sock-clad feet and began to gently massage it.

“Oh… oh that feels incredible.” Aziraphale released a shuddering breath and Crowley bit down on his bottom lip. He was touching him! He was actually touching him! And Aziraphale was enjoying it. Crowley rested Aziraphale’s foot in his lap and slid one hand up beneath the hem of his trousers as far as it would go, letting out a quiet groan.

“You’re wearing sock suspenders.”

“Yes.”

“Fucking hell, Aziraphale!”

“I didn’t expect you to become aware of them.”

“I think you’re trying to kill me. You’re so fucking hot.” Crowley used one hand to gently squeeze Aziraphale’s ankle while using the other to tenderly stroke up and down his calf under his trousers.

“That feels so good, Crowley. Thank you.”

It was ridiculous really, Aziraphale sounded completely breathless, and Crowley was more turned on than he should have been just from touching Aziraphale’s leg. What would it be like when he could actually touch him properly, with no distance between them at all? Crowley began massaging Aziraphale’s calf, eliciting a soft moan that made Crowley really want to just rip their masks off and kiss Aziraphale senseless. He swallowed thickly and forced himself to just concentrate on trying to make Aziraphale feel good.

“You told me before that you’d read about the physiological benefits of hugging,” Crowley began, subtly clearing his throat when he heard how rough his voice emerged. “Apparently there are a lot of benefits to massage too.”

Crowley withdrew his hand and moved his attention to Aziraphale’s other leg, continuing to gently knead his flesh, before setting his feet back down on the blanket and moving a little further up, making sure to stay the requisite one metre away. He began massaging Aziraphale’s calf through his trousers, using both hands now and applying more pressure. Aziraphale’s head was tilted forward, he was watching Crowley, breathing heavily, and Crowley responded by pressing a little harder.

“Good Lord, Crowley… I can’t believe how good this feels. It’s rather intense.”

“Good intense?”

Very good.”

“You feel amazing, angel. I can’t believe I’m actually touching you.”

“If you were to lie down beside me, with our heads at opposite ends of the blanket, I would be able to touch you too. Would you like that?”

“Wow, yes, absolutely.”

Crowley kicked his shoes off and hurriedly rearranged himself so he was lying back on the blanket, his head near to Aziraphale’s foot. There was a bittersweetness to this moment, the joy of being close to Aziraphale and being able to touch him tainted by the invisible barrier that still held them apart. He had a strange compulsion to kiss Aziraphale’s ankle, but if he had done so it would have been through three layers of fabric. Crowley tenderly ran his hand up and down over Aziraphale’s leg and gasped when he felt Aziraphale start to do the same for him.

“Is this all right?”

Crowley nodded, struggling for words, then realised Aziraphale might not be able to see the gesture and forced himself to find the ability to speak. “Yes. It’s perfect. You’re touching me!”

Crowley suddenly wished he’d had the forethought not to wear such tight jeans, and not just for the obvious reason; he wanted Aziraphale to be able to slip his hand beneath the material and touch his skin (although Crowley did then realise that he didn’t actually own any trousers that weren’t tight). Aziraphale pressed down firmly against the fabric of his jeans, as if he was making sure he could really feel his touch, and Crowley threw his head back and squeezed Aziraphale’s calf in response, his heart quickening in his chest.

On the one hand, Crowley thought that something like this definitely shouldn’t be as arousing as it was, but on the other, he recognised that he’d been longing to touch Aziraphale since April, and he was just so soft and warm and real… Crowley had known this would be amazing, he’d been excited about it since the moment he’d first thought about it, but it had turned out to be even better than he’d anticipated. Once again he felt a powerful pull towards Aziraphale, but it wasn’t his attraction getting stronger, it would be impossible for Crowley to feel any more attracted to him. It was definitely something deeper, but in fairness, Crowley had known that for a while now.

“Would it be weird if I hugged your leg?” Crowley asked self-consciously.

“Possibly, but I’d like for you to do it anyway, if you’re offering.”

Crowley chuckled and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s leg, squeezing him tightly and pressing his cheek against his ankle.

“You’re like a snake wrapped around my leg.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Of course.”

“You’re really warm. I’m glad, I was worried you might get a bit cold and I wouldn’t be able to warm you up properly.”

“I’m not readily affected by the cold. You, on the other hand…” Aziraphale slipped his warm fingertips just beneath the hem of Crowley’s jeans, making his skin tingle. “I think you might actually be cold-blooded.”

“Well, when this is all over, hopefully you can do a thorough job of warming me up. I can’t promise to do anything to cool you down, though. I’m hoping I’ll be able to do the opposite.”

Aziraphale hummed with satisfaction and lightly scratched the sensitive skin near Crowley’s ankle through his sock. It was excruciatingly intimate.

“I’m looking forward to that.”

“Me too. So much.”

“I think I’d quite like to hug your leg as well.”

“Go for it. We can be weird together.”

So there they were, lying head-to-toe on a blanket in the Dowlings’ garden, surrounded by candles, each with their arms wrapped around one of the other’s legs, and yes, it was weird, but it was the closest they’d come to hugging and there was no denying that it actually felt good. Crowley rested his head on Aziraphale’s ankle and squeezed him even tighter. He shuffled his hips closer, so that they were actually touching along the full length of their bodies.

“Thank you for this, Crowley. I dare say if anyone saw us right now we would look rather silly, but I am very much enjoying it.”

“Me too. Might have garnered a few funny looks if we’d done it in the park.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Yes, quite.”

Crowley nuzzled his leg and couldn’t resist, he pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s calf through his mask and the fabric of Aziraphale’s trousers.

“Aziraphale?” he murmured softly.

“Yes?”

“My arm is sixty-five centimetres long.”

“Impressive,” Aziraphale joked. “Rather like Orion’s…”

“Oi!”

Aziraphale laughed, and Crowley tried to shuffle even closer to him, pressing their bodies more tightly together.

“My apologies. Do continue.”

“I can keep my face below your knees and touch you a bit higher. I mean, I’d like to touch your thighs, if you want me to.”

“Oh… yes, I’d definitely like that.”

Crowley’s entire body thrummed with excitement as Aziraphale released his leg and propped himself up on his elbows. Crowley assumed that he wanted to watch him, which made Crowley even more excited about it. In this new position, Aziraphale’s face was even further away from Crowley’s than it had been when they were lying down. If Aziraphale was a right angle at the base of a triangle, it would have been the length of the hypotenuse. Crowley rolled onto his back and snorted with laughter.

“What is it?” Aziraphale asked curiously, resting his hand on Crowley’s leg.

“Warlock was so damned sure that people never use trigonometry in real life!”

“Dare I ask what made you think of that just now?”

“Well a-squared plus b-squared equals c-squared, right? And b is the length of your body. And… well, it’s just that our faces are further away now,” Crowley settled for as an explanation. Aziraphale absentmindedly stroked Crowley’s leg and seemed to give this some thought.

“But when I sat up, the length of b decreased.”

“Ok, yeah, but, let’s say your body is 2a long, and if you sit up, you form a triangle with two sides of length a, and the hypotenuse is going to be longer than 2a, isn’t it?”

“You’re asking the wrong person I’m afraid, my dear, but do I infer that you’re saying I should stay in this position?”

“Yeah, if you’re comfortable.”

“I am.”

“Good. You can watch me touching you then too,” Crowley said with a wink.

“That was the idea,” Aziraphale responded, his voice deep and low. “I think I quite enjoy hearing you talk about maths, you know.”

“Well at least someone does. Maybe one day you can whisper romantic sonnets in my ear and I’ll reciprocate by telling you about three-dimensional vectors and the binomial distribution.”

“I know you’re joking but I wouldn’t be averse to that.”

“I have other things in mind for when I can actually whisper things in your ear, and I’m hoping you’ll find them much more interesting than maths,” Crowley drawled suggestively.

“I’m sure I will.”

Crowley adjusted his position on the blanket, moving a little further up, and grazed his palm across Aziraphale’s thigh. Aziraphale’s breath hitched and he dipped his head, a satisfied sigh emerging from him. Crowley continued, just sweeping his hand up and down gently for a while.

“Is this nice?”

“Very nice,” Aziraphale replied breathlessly.

“I won’t go any higher than this,” Crowley said softly, resting his palm about halfway up Aziraphale’s thigh. “Is there any way you wouldn’t want me to touch you?”

“No, please, Crowley, you can touch me however you like.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, since Aziraphale couldn’t see him smiling in response, and began gently massaging Aziraphale’s thigh with both hands. He wished he could sit up (and technically maybe he could, but he really couldn’t be arsed with the maths to make sure of that right now), but he wasn’t really complaining. Aziraphale felt amazing, and the soft little moans and sighs escaping him were having a considerable effect on Crowley. He slipped one hand under Aziraphale’s thigh.

“Lift your knee up for me, angel.”

Aziraphale whimpered softly and did as Crowley had asked. Ok, now Crowley was really regretting the tight trousers.

“I love touching you. You’re so gorgeous, you feel so good,” Crowley praised, squeezing Aziraphale’s thigh. Aziraphale was visibly aroused, which turned Crowley on even more. “I love that you’re enjoying this, angel. I can’t wait to touch you properly. I want to make you feel so good.”

Crowley squeezed a little harder, eliciting another moan from Aziraphale, who brought his hand down to cover Crowley’s.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Want certainly isn’t the right word, but…”

“Yeah, I know. I understand.” Crowley withdrew his hands and wriggled his hips to shuffle back down the blanket before sitting up.

“That was incredible, Crowley. All of this is incredible,” Aziraphale said as he looked around at the candles, his voice laced with so much affection. “You’re so wonderful. Thank you for arranging all of this for me. I love you, Crowley.”

Crowley’s heart stuttered and he stared at Aziraphale for a second, his words slowly sinking into Crowley’s brain.

“I hope that’s all right for me to say that,” Aziraphale continued, and Crowley was eager to put his mind at rest.

“Yes, absolutely! Angel, I love you too.”

Their hands found each other again and they joined them together.

“When I can, I’m going to hug you so hard it really will be like a snake constricting you.”

“You already take my breath away.”

“God, you’re so cheesy.”

“Is that why you love me?”

“It’s everything, angel. I love everything about you.”

Notes:

Did I get a ruler and measure a picture of Crowley and Aziraphale and then use David and Michael's heights to calculate the length of their limbs in order to write this chapter? Yes, yes I did. Hope you enjoyed it! ;-) Two more chapters to go.... happy ending not too far away!! <3

Chapter 11: Households

Summary:

Crowley hears the news about a possible forthcoming second lockdown, and Harriet wants to talk to him about the changes in Warlock's behaviour.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

October 2020

Crowley had dropped Warlock off at school and then gone to pick up his Click and Collect order from Sainsbury’s. He’d made the mistake of switching the radio on in the car on the way back to the Dowlings’. Cases of coronavirus were going up, and there were murmurings of another full lockdown. What if the government closed the schools again after half term? Even if that didn’t happen, what was guaranteed to happen was a restoration of the requirement for two metres of distance between people from different households. No more hand holding. No more opportunities to enjoy one of Aziraphale’s outrageously thorough and attentive foot rubs. Just more distance, with no way of knowing how long it could go on for.

Crowley slammed the car door shut and opened the boot. In his state of misery-induced lethargy he didn’t think he could face making more than one trip to and from the house, so he awkwardly managed to carry all of the shopping bags inside in one go. He dropped them down onto the breakfast bar in the kitchen, huffed out a long breath, rolled his shoulders and stretched.

Just keep going. One day at a time.

“Hi, Crowley,” Harriet greeted him brightly, stepping into the kitchen and heading over to the counter to fill up the coffee pot. Crowley was feeling too down for her cheerfulness to be infectious.

“Hey, you ok?” he asked, more by way of polite greeting than anything else.

“Yes, good thank you. Do you have a minute? I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Sure.”

Crowley put the milk he’d extracted from one of the shopping bags into the fridge and then gave Harriet his full attention, praying it wouldn’t be anything bad. He couldn’t take any more bad news today.

“Have you noticed Warlock acting a bit differently recently?”

Oh God, what if there is something wrong with him? I should have talked to him!

Crowley’s heart started beating harder, and he rested one hand on the counter beside him for support.

“Yeah, I have,” he replied uncertainly, trying to stay calm. It was foolish to worry, he’d been watching carefully for any signs that something might be wrong with Warlock, so he took a breath and tried to reassure himself, and found that he felt the need to reassure Harriet as well. “He seems fine though. I’ve been keeping a close eye on him.”

“Oh, I know, it’s ok, honey.” Crowley’s anxiety must have shown, because Harriet placed her hand reassuringly on his arm. “I just think he’s becoming a bit more independent now. I’m sure we have you to thank for that.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Tad and I both know how much you’ve done for him, Crowley. Please don’t think it’s not appreciated.”

“Thanks, Harriet.” Feeling a little awkward, Crowley stepped back over to the breakfast bar and pulled a few tins of soup from one of the bags, balancing them one on top of the other before stowing them safely away in the proper cupboard.

“Tad and I have been talking. Warlock’s grown up a lot these past couple of months and we think maybe he doesn’t need you to be here all the time now.”

Crowley’s heart stuttered and his stomach lurched violently.

“Are you saying you don’t want me to be his nanny anymore?”

“Oh, no, honey, no! Of course not! I don’t know what any of us would do without you! I just mean that I don’t think you need to be here overnight now. We were wondering whether you might be happier if you had your own space? You know Tad has access to that flat near the embassy, right? Obviously he’s not using it right now and they’re talking about everyone staying working from home until this is all over, and I don’t think that’s going to be anytime soon, do you?”

“It’s not looking like it, no.”

“So, we thought maybe you’d like to live there instead of here?” Harriet suggested with a sweet smile on her face. Crowley looked at her quizzically. “I know it would only be temporary, but it would mean you’d have a different address. You wouldn’t be part of our household anymore, you’d just come here for work.”

What she was saying finally dawned on Crowley. He grabbed the edge of the breakfast bar and brought his other hand up to cover his mouth, his heart now absolutely racing in his chest and his eyes stinging as a film of tears spread across the surface of them.

“I don’t know what Aziraphale’s situation is, honey, but I thought maybe you two could…” Harriet began and then sighed. “This situation is bad enough, and you deserve to be happy, Crowley. It’s obvious how happy he makes you. I know you love him. You two should be together.”

Crowley couldn’t speak. He pressed his hand harder to his face and squeezed his eyes closed as he started to cry. Harriet crossed the room and enclosed him in a gentle embrace.

“Thank you,” Crowley sobbed against Harriet’s shoulder.

“You’re welcome, sweetie. We all love you very much, you know. I’ll go and sort the keys out from Tad right away, ok?”

 


 

The flat was, of course, fully furnished and ready to move into, so there was very little for Crowley to do. He spent the day moving over his relatively few belongings and changing his address in all of the key places to make it official. He then sat on the sofa in his new flat and read through the rules about support bubbles on his phone. The whole thing was pretty stupid really, he’d still see Tad, Harriet and Warlock, but it was permitted under the regulations because it involved going into work at a job that couldn’t be done from home. He wouldn’t be able to see Harriet’s mother anymore, not that that was an issue - she would surely somehow manage to cope without the option of Crowley’s scintillating company. Crowley hadn’t even seen her for weeks, since Harriet generally went around to her house or they met outside to go for walks together.

The rules stated that anyone wanting to change their support bubble had to wait ten days after seeing the people in their old bubble before seeing anyone from the new bubble. If Aziraphale was willing to go along with this, even if he wanted, say, to see Tracy one last time tomorrow, they would still only have to wait eleven days before they could actually be together.

Please say yes. Please please please say yes.

Crowley closed the government website and switched over to his messages.

Crowley: Can we meet after dinner tonight?

Aziraphale: Of course. Is everything all right?

Crowley: Yeah everything’s fine, just want to talk to you about something in person

Aziraphale: Usual place? 7pm?

Crowley: Perfect. See you there angel x

 


 

That evening, back at the Dowlings’, Crowley knocked on Warlock’s bedroom door before heading out to meet Aziraphale at St James’s Park. Warlock didn’t shout for him to come in, but instead approached the door and just opened it very slightly, wedging himself in the gap between the door and the frame, not permitting Crowley to enter his private sanctum.

“What d’you want?”

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” Crowley asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“I didn’t do anything!” Warlock defended.

“No, I know, I’m not accusing you of anything! I just mean… did your mom talk to you? About me moving out?”

Warlock shrugged. “Maybe.”

“That’s why you’ve been acting weird, isn’t it? So she’d decide you didn’t need me around so much?”

“I’m twelve now, I can look after myself.”

“Yeah, I know you can. Thanks anyway, I do appreciate it, you know.”

Crowley held his hand out and Warlock shook it somewhat sceptically.

“Whatever, s’not a big deal.”

“I’ll still be here in the day, and if you ever want me any other time just call me, ok?”

Warlock shrugged.

“You gonna actually see Aziraphale now?”

“I hope so. I need to talk to him about it.”

“You haven’t told him yet? You’re hopeless!”

“Oh, well, thank you for that! Look, it’s not as simple as it sounds, Aziraphale is in a support bubble with his friend, he can’t just instantly leave that. He might not even want to.”

“Nah, I did all those classes with him, ‘member, so I know he’s not an idiot. Unlike some people.”

Crowley laughed fondly. “Well, I hope you’re right. I promise I’ll let you know how it works out.”

Warlock nodded and Crowley turned away to leave him in peace.

“Hey Crowley?” Crowley looked back over his shoulder. “Am I the best wingman ever or what?”

“Oh Jesus Christ help us, you actually are.”

Warlock pumped the air with his fist and Crowley grinned at him before walking away along the landing.

“I’m already working on my Christmas list!” Warlock called after him. “And I think I’ve been very good this year!”

“You’ve got my email address,” Crowley shot back before he disappeared down the stairs.

 


 

Crowley stared at the rippling reflections of the yellowing trees on the surface of the duck pond. He wouldn’t keep glancing over his shoulder, not this time. His heart was racing and he felt like he was about to vibrate out of his skin. He wished he could have held onto the railings in front of him for support, but, like most people, he had by now developed a considerable aversion to touching anything in public places.

Ten days. Maybe. Please say yes. Oh please, please say yes.

“Hello Crowley.” Aziraphale’s gentle voice materialised at his side and Crowley jolted involuntarily. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Is everything all right?”

Aziraphale stood a metre away, but had his hand stretched out towards him, and Crowley knew that had he been able to, Aziraphale would have stepped closer and tenderly placed his hand on his arm or on the small of his back to help settle him after startling him. He wanted that so badly. He wanted all of it. He just wanted to actually be with him.

Please say yes.

“Yeah, fine, thanks, sorry. Just needed to talk to you.”

“Has something happened?” The lines across Aziraphale’s forehead deepened and Crowley was desperate to put his mind at ease.

It’s ok, it’s a good thing. I think it’s a good thing. I hope you do too. Please say yes.

“No. Well, yeah. Nothing bad. Everything’s fine.”

Aziraphale visibly relaxed a little, but what Crowley could see of his expression still conveyed concern.

“I’m relieved to hear that.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Crowley, you’re trembling.”

Crowley lifted his palms and looked down at them, and fuck, Aziraphale was right, he was literally shaking. He clasped his hands together and inhaled deeply.

“I’m just nervous, I’m fine. It’s just… right, well, you know I’ve told you that Warlock’s been acting differently these past couple of months? Like, all… sensible and mature and stuff?”

“Yes. Is he all right?”

“He’s fine. Anyway, obviously Tad and Harriet noticed it too, so Harriet had a word with me about Warlock maybe not needing a live-in nanny anymore.”

“Oh, Crowley…”

“No, it’s ok. It’s ok! It’s just… Harriet suggested that I move out of their house.” Crowley watched Aziraphale’s eyebrows draw together and his eyes glaze with a thin coating of moisture.

Oh shit he probably thinks they fired me! Could have used this time waiting to work out how to explain this in an articulate way maybe, instead of just staring into the duck pond?

“It’s ok, I didn’t lose my job or anything!” Crowley took another deep breath. “Tad has this flat by the embassy that he’s not using right now, and they’ve let me move into it so that I can, you know, have my own space a bit more. I’ll still go to the house every day and do all the stuff I was doing, I just won’t be living there anymore.”

“And how do you feel about that? I thought perhaps, especially with everything as it is, you rather enjoyed having the Dowlings’ company?”

Crowley tried not to read into the fact that Aziraphale’s mind hadn’t immediately leapt where he wanted it to. In fairness, neither had his when Harriet had first suggested the idea. They were so entrenched in this way of living that it wasn’t the kind of thing they questioned anymore. You just put your mask on, stayed outside and stayed a metre away, because that was just the ‘new normal’.

“I’ll still see them every day. Aziraphale…” Crowley began softly, reaching out his hand. Aziraphale took it, and Crowley rubbed his thumb in circles across Aziraphale’s palm. “It means I’m officially not part of their household anymore. I’m not in their support bubble. I’d just be seeing them for work, which is allowed. So it means that if I wanted to form a bubble with someone in a different household, I could.”

Aziraphale audibly gasped and suddenly squeezed Crowley’s hand hard.

“I’ve read all the government regulations,” Crowley said hurriedly. “If you did want to bubble with me then you wouldn’t be able to see Tracy anymore, and that’s a lot to ask, I know it is, I don’t want to put any pressure on you, angel, I promise, she’s your best friend, I know that…” Crowley paused for a second to breathe. “I promise it’s completely ok if you don’t want to, ok? I really mean it. But if you did want to bubble with me, we’d only have to wait ten days until we could actually be together!”

“Ten days?” Aziraphale croaked.

“Yeah, like a quarantine, but then we’d be able to do whatever we wanted! No distance, no masks, no restrictions. We could actually be together!”

“I’m supposed to be having dinner with Tracy tomorrow.”

“Ok… that’s good, maybe you could talk to her about it and see how she feels? And have a bit of a think about it yourself? It’d still only be eleven days.”

“To think about it? Crowley, I don’t need to think about it! Of course I want to be in a bubble with you!” Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand more tightly, and Crowley’s heart absolutely soared. Eleven days… he only had to wait eleven days and then he’d actually be able to hold Aziraphale in his arms. “I only mentioned it because… well, Tracy and I thought it would be best not to see each other too often, what with Mr Shadwell being a bit older and more vulnerable to the virus, so we’ve only been meeting for dinner about once a fortnight. Crowley, I haven’t seen Tracy for twelve days.”

Crowley’s stomach seemed to jump up into his chest, stopping him from breathing.

“Oh my God.”

They locked eyes with each other, Aziraphale was looking at him desperately, imploringly, the tight grip they had on each other’s hands bordering on painful, but Crowley barely registered it.

“You’re… you’re saying that technically… we could…” Crowley swallowed and sucked in a breath. “We could do this right now.”

“I need to talk to Tracy,” Aziraphale said frantically, releasing Crowley’s hand and rushing away from him. Crowley watched as Aziraphale took out his phone, pressed a few buttons (it was that kind of phone, of course) and then held it to his ear, pacing up and down the path.

Crowley prayed to a God he wasn’t sure he believed in to make a woman he had never met answer her bloody phone as quickly as possible please.

Aziraphale was too far away for Crowley to hear anything he said, but Crowley experienced a rush and pressed his hand to his heart when he saw Aziraphale’s mouth moving, indicating that he was talking to someone. He started pacing too, unable to contain his nervous, excited energy. Tracy might say yes. She might just say yes, and then in minutes, mere minutes from now, he might actually be able to hug Aziraphale. Crowley’s heart pounded uncomfortably hard and fast against his sternum, his throat dried up and he even started to feel dizzy.

Come on. Please. Please!

Aziraphale lowered his phone from his ear and put it back in his pocket. Crowley’s stomach lurched. He desperately wished he could see more of Aziraphale’s face. Crowley wrapped his arms around himself as Aziraphale walked back towards him like he was trying to contain himself, to stop himself from exploding with nervous energy or simply falling apart.

“She said yes.”

“Yes as in…?”

“Yes, she’s all right with it. She thinks you and I should form a bubble. She was very supportive of the idea, in fact.”

“Are you telling me there is literally no reason why I can’t hug you right here, right now?”

Aziraphale nodded. Even with his stupid tartan mask on, Crowley could tell he wasn’t just smiling, he must have been absolutely beaming, his eyes shimmering and crinkling in the corners. Crowley took a split second to visualise it - actually stepping forward, eliminating the distance, and taking Aziraphale in his arms. His breath caught in his chest, a lump formed in his throat and his eyes began to sting. He anxiously glanced around. There were so many people. So many fucking people! What were they all doing out here? Had they forgotten there was a pandemic going on?

“There might actually be one reason,” Crowley croaked. “If I hug you, I’m definitely going to cry. I mean really cry. I want to be alone with you.”

“We should go back to my flat.”

“Can we run?”

“Not if you don’t want me to collapse.”

“Can we walk fast?”

“Yes, I can manage that.”

Crowley seized Aziraphale’s hand and began to rush back along the path towards Soho, their arms brushing against each other. They were both laughing and crying, hopefully mostly disguised by their masks, almost tripping over their feet as they tried to make their way to the bookshop as quickly as possible.

When they finally made it, Aziraphale’s hands were shaking as he unlocked the door. They bustled inside, and Crowley immediately tore his mask off his face and shoved it in his pocket and let Aziraphale do the same before he launched himself towards him and took him into his arms.

Notes:

I'm not sure how quickly I'll get the last chapter posted, but at least they're actually together now!! <3 <3 <3 Thank you so much for all the support and encouragement you've all given me with this story! <3

Chapter 12: Real

Summary:

Aziraphale and Crowley can finally be together!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

This wasn’t how Crowley had pictured this moment, and he’d certainly pictured it, hundreds of times, in fact. In his mind, when Crowley had imagined this scenario, he and Aziraphale had finally wrapped their arms around each other and Crowley had smiled uncontrollably and whispered in Aziraphale’s ear how much he loved him. He had relished the softness and warmth of Aziraphale’s body pressed up against him and had run his hands up and down the length of his back, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He had kissed Aziraphale’s neck, then his cheek, then just beside the corner of his mouth, and Aziraphale had turned his head, their lips had finally met, and sparks had been practically flying between them. It was supposed to be perfect, but Crowley hadn’t anticipated that, in reality, he would be overcome with emotion and fall apart.

Crowley squeezed Aziraphale tightly as he cried against his shoulder, trembling and completely overwhelmed. Ten hours ago he had felt like he was drowning in the pit of despair, and now, here he was, with Aziraphale, inside, without masks on, alone, actually holding him, and it was just too much for him to process. His body and mind were overcome with intense relief, like he’d just been pulled free from the wreckage of a powerful storm in which he’d been buried for days, having given up all hope of rescue, resigned to his fate.

Aziraphale’s hands were clutching tightly at the back of Crowley’s jacket, and he was breathing heavily against Crowley’s neck, his body shuddering as he cried too.

“Let’s sit down,” Aziraphale murmured near Crowley’s ear, his voice a little croaky. Crowley didn’t want to let go of him completely, not after he’d waited to so long to hold him, but he allowed Aziraphale to pull away slightly and wrap his arm around his waist, guiding him through to the backroom of the bookshop. Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand and sat down on an old sofa there, covered with throw blankets, and Crowley let himself be pulled down, throwing his arms back around Aziraphale as soon as they were seated.

Crowley’s awareness of everything seemed heightened; the feel of Aziraphale’s soft, warm, slightly damp cheek pressed against his own, the intoxicating scent of him, the way his chest was rising and falling with each breath, pressing against Crowley’s ribs. The way his hands moved soothingly over Crowley’s back and down his sides, then up into his hair, eliciting pleasant shivers throughout Crowley’s body. The way their thighs pressed together, and the feel of Aziraphale’s warm breath on his neck. He was so, so close, and so real. Crowley pulled back just enough to be able to wipe his eyes.

“I’m sorry, angel. I didn’t think I’d react like this.”

“It’s all right, my dear,” Aziraphale reassured him, pulling him somehow even closer. “This was all very unexpected. Don’t worry, we have time. We have all the time in the world.”

“I love you so much.”

There was a pause before Aziraphale responded. He clutched Crowley a little tighter and swallowed roughly, his voice shaky when he did speak.

“I love you too.”

“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe we’re actually together.”

They both choked out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and a deep sense of relief exploded out from Crowley’s heart and seeped into every nook and cranny of his chest. Crowley nuzzled against Aziraphale’s neck, laughing and crying and willing his intense emotions to settle so that maybe he could finally do some of the things he’d dreamed of, that he’d waited so long to turn into reality.

“Would you like to lie down?” Aziraphale asked softly. Crowley nodded eagerly.

“I’ve imagined curling up with you on a sofa thousands of times.”

“So have I.”

Crowley reluctantly extricated himself from Aziraphale’s embrace and rubbed his hands across his face, trying to snap out of the heavy, foggy state he was in. He drew in a deep breath and then let it out in one long, heavy sigh.

Crowley hadn’t paid much attention to the sofa when they’d first sat down, certainly not to its dimensions, but as he studied it now for the first time, a furrow developed between his eyebrows.

“Will we both fit?”

“It would be a bit of a tight squeeze. My bed might be more comfortable, if you’d prefer? I really want to hold you properly.”

“Yeah, me too. Ok. Yeah.”

Crowley hadn’t expected to be crying when Aziraphale actually invited him to go to bed with him, but just thinking about the two of them being cuddled up close and safe together filled Crowley with such overwhelming joy that he struggled to compose himself. Aziraphale rose from the sofa and reached out to take his hand, and when Crowley looked up at him, finding Aziraphale’s cheeks blotchy and tear-stained, his eyes red, and a loving, gentle smile on his face, it felt like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart, triggering another wave of tears.

“This is ridiculous!” Crowley growled, frustration blending into the intense mix of emotions whirling around inside of him. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“It’s all right; it’s a lot to process, my dear. Come on. Come with me.”

Aziraphale reached down and clasped Crowley’s hand in his own, encouraging him to stand up. He led him up the stairs, past further rows of chaotic bookshelves and an eclectic mix of tables, chairs and ornaments surrounded by boxes containing even more books, to a door right at the back, leading to his flat. Crowley let Aziraphale guide him to the bedroom, and when he stepped inside, the balance tipped a little more towards laughing rather than crying when Crowley first spotted Aziraphale’s tartan duvet cover, which he’d always suspected he would find here.

Aziraphale took off his coat and hung it over the back of a chair before reaching out to take Crowley’s jacket from him too. Crowley shrugged it off his shoulders and passed it to Aziraphale, who placed it neatly on top of his own. It felt comforting and domestic, a visual representation of the two of them actually being together in the same space.

Crowley smiled and rubbed his hand across his aching chest before sitting down on the edge of the bed. When Aziraphale sat beside him and bent down to untie his shoes, Crowley kicked his off too, waiting for Aziraphale to finish neatly tucking his laces into his shoes before they both clambered up onto the bed and navigated their way beneath the covers.

“Please let me hold you,” Aziraphale murmured softly, his arms open and inviting. Crowley shuffled closer and draped one arm across Aziraphale’s chest, resting his head on his shoulder. Aziraphale cuddled him close. It felt a little strange to be in bed in his clothes, his jeans rough and constrictive against the soft sheets and plush duvet, but Crowley barely gave it any thought. Aziraphale’s heart was beating in his ear, his chest rising as his lungs expanded with each breath and pressing gently against Crowley’s cheek. With Aziraphale’s arm around him and his hand sweeping lightly up and down over Crowley’s back, Crowley really did feel like the two of them were in a bubble, safe and secure and together, the rest of the world and all of its problems falling away just for a moment. Right now, Crowley felt as though whatever happened in the future it would somehow be ok as long as Aziraphale was beside him while he faced it.

“This feels amazing,” Crowley mumbled against Aziraphale’s chest. “So much better right way up.”

Aziraphale inhaled deeply and snuggled against him a little more.

“Mmm, it’s perfect. Definitely worth the wait.”

Aziraphale continued to stroke Crowley’s back over the relatively soft and comfortable material of his henley. Crowley sank into the sensation, the world settling into a state of absolute calm and serenity where nothing existed but the soft warmth of Aziraphale beside him, the soothing reassurance of his steady, rhythmic touch, and the whisper of his breath against Crowley’s hair. It was so peaceful, and he drifted in it, floated in it, letting his eyes fall closed and his mind fall silent.

 


 

Crowley shifted, his hand instinctively flexing against the unexpected warmth beneath it. Aziraphale. He was in bed with Aziraphale, with his head still resting on his chest and his arm wrapped around him, their legs entangled with each other.

“Hello, my dear.”

Crowley squeezed his eyes closed and groaned.

“I fell asleep? Seriously? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he mumbled into Aziraphale’s chest.

“Don’t worry, it’s quite all right. You haven’t been asleep for long, and I’ve been very much enjoying holding you.”

“Six months and I finally get to hold you and I just fall asleep?”

“I’m rather flattered. You must feel comfortable with me.”

“I do. Of course I do.”

“Do you feel any better?”

Crowley inhaled deeply and snuggled closer to Aziraphale, adjusting the position of his head on his chest. He sighed contentedly. He did feel better. He felt warm and safe, more than he had in a very long time. Aziraphale was stroking his hand up and down Crowley’s arm, his head leaning gently against his. Crowley’s face broke into a beaming smile.

“Yeah, I do. You feel amazing. Nice way to wake up.” Crowley ran his hand down Aziraphale’s side, the layers of clothing he was wearing seeming incongruous while they were snuggled up together under Aziraphale’s warm duvet.

“Well, I think we can arrange for you to wake up like this again,” Aziraphale murmured into his hair. “Perhaps quite regularly.”

“Mmm. Good.”

He felt Aziraphale’s chest move as he chuckled softly, then a light pressure as Aziraphale kissed the top of his head. Crowley instinctively tilted his head up, and Aziraphale softly brushed his lips against his forehead, once, then twice, then a third time, something powerful building inside of Crowley with every touch of his lips. With the fourth kiss, Crowley sucked in a shuddering breath, heat flaring in his gut like someone had suddenly touched a lit match to a vat of oil. The sleepy sense of calm that had pervaded his body was rapidly cast aside, replaced by a sharp pulse of arousal deep in his abdomen.

Crowley shifted again, dragging his leg higher up, his thigh rubbing against Aziraphale’s, triggering another wave of arousal. Crowley’s heart started thumping against his sternum, his body filled with sudden, desperate want. He tilted his head up further to look Aziraphale in the eye.

“Aziraphale…” he whispered, his eyes flicking between Aziraphale’s eyes and his lips. Aziraphale looked back at him hungrily before leaning in to bring their lips together for the very first time. It was every bit as incredible as Crowley had imagined, every reverent brush of Aziraphale’s lips against his own sending shockwaves of pleasure through him, setting his skin alight. It felt like Aziraphale was pouring his love into him, flooding his body with heat, and Crowley was dizzy with it, desperate for it. Aziraphale shuffled out from beneath him and pressed gently down on Crowley’s shoulder, holding him against the bed. He was leaning over him now, one hand laced through Crowley’s hair as he kissed him more and more eagerly, tracing the tip of his tongue along the seam of Crowley’s mouth.

Feeling light-headed, Crowley broke their kiss and placed his palm on Aziraphale’s chest, panting for breath.

“Is this all right?”

“Amazing. Incredible. It’s just a bit intense.”

Aziraphale rested his forehead against Crowley’s, both of them breathing heavily.

“I know. It’s all right, we can take things slowly, if you like?”

Aziraphale began softly brushing his lips against Crowley’s cheek. Crowley’s eyes fluttered closed and he hummed his approval, each touch of Aziraphale’s lips to his skin inducing waves of pleasure that rippled throughout his entire body. Crowley moaned softly and brought his hands up to rest gently on Aziraphale’s sides. Aziraphale was barely touching him and it already felt so good, Crowley’s heart felt about ready to burst with all of the emotion it was trying to contain.

When he thought about it, he could understand it really - the isolation and the despair, the immersion into this vaguely dystopian way of life, Crowley had noticed the way it had affected the way his mind worked, his responses and his resilience. It made sense that finally being able to experience intimacy with Aziraphale would feel more potent and significant than anything he had felt before. Crowley had become so accustomed to keeping his distance, to not touch had become something habitual. He had also become accustomed to being alone, but he wasn’t alone now. They were finally together, and they were a bubble now, they could be together as much as they wanted. Crowley was still trying to wrap his head around it. It still felt more like a dream, or a reprieve, a temporary break from reality.

Aziraphale gently grasped the fabric at the opening of Crowley’s shirt, moving it to the side to press teasing, sucking kisses to his collarbone. Crowley moaned softly, aching with the intensity of the sensations Aziraphale was eliciting in him already. Crowley grasped at Aziraphale’s sides more tightly, frustrated by the barrier of his clothing between them.

“Aziraphale…”

“Mmm?” Aziraphale hummed against his skin and started kissing up along the column of Crowley’s throat.

“I think you’re wearing too many clothes.”

Aziraphale laughed against the hollow at the base of Crowley’s throat and tenderly kissed him once more before lifting himself back up.

“I can’t disagree with that.”

Crowley grinned and grabbed hold of Aziraphale’s shoulders, pushing him back and encouraging him to lie flat on the bed. Crowley quickly moved to straddle him, just above his hips, thrilled when Aziraphale moaned softly and wriggled beneath him. They locked eyes as Crowley carefully undid Aziraphale’s bowtie and slipped it free from his collar, making a show of folding it neatly before leaning over to place it carefully on the bedside table. Aziraphale made a small, approving sound and Crowley smiled.

Crowley lifted himself up for a moment, just long enough to tug the hem of Aziraphale’s waistcoat from beneath him, before sliding his hands up over the fabric and slowly working his way back down, undoing the buttons as he went, just as he had described after their first Zoom dinner date. Once he’d opened Aziraphale’s waistcoat, he went to work on his shirt, tugging it free from his trousers and reaching up to his neck to begin unbuttoning it. Once he’d created enough space, he slipped his hand beneath it and groaned.

“You’re wearing an undershirt? It’s like fucking pass the parcel,” Crowley teased.

“Might I point out,” Aziraphale responded a little breathlessly, “that I had no way of knowing that this would be happening when I selected my attire this morning.”

Crowley squirmed against him, his jeans even more uncomfortably tight now on account of more than just the position he was in.

“I love the way you talk,” he growled.

“Do you still want me to whisper in your ear?”

“Oh, absolutely yes, but not until I’ve freed you from all of these ridiculous layers. Not that I mind unwrapping you.” Crowley leaned down to kiss Aziraphale, but only briefly, there was no way he could kiss him and concentrate enough to navigate around this many items of clothing. He undid the final button of Aziraphale’s shirt and gave him a self-satisfied smile. “Now sit up for me so I can actually get them off you.”

Aziraphale readily complied with Crowley’s instruction, his hands finding Crowley’s hips and lifting him up so that he could move beneath him. The unexpected display of strength and the feeling of Aziraphale’s hands grasping at his hips, his fingers digging into his flesh, triggered another powerful jolt of arousal. Crowley released a shuddering breath and bit down on his bottom lip. Aziraphale hurriedly shifted into a seated position and lowered Crowley back down, further down his body now. Crowley let out an involuntary moan when he felt how hard Aziraphale was beneath him, and he shifted his hips, causing Aziraphale to gasp and clutch him tighter.

“You feel so good,” Crowley praised, cradling the back of Aziraphale’s neck and pulling him in close, kissing him fervently now as he slipped the waistcoat off over his shoulders. He grinned against Aziraphale’s mouth when his hands slid over the straps of Aziraphale’s braces and he pulled back to look at him, flushed and absolutely gorgeous.

Crowley carefully folded Aziraphale’s waistcoat and placed it with his bowtie before slipping his hands beneath his braces, the elasticated straps securing his hands against Aziraphale’s body.

“You’re making all of my fantasies come true,” he whispered, trailing his palms down the length of Aziraphale’s chest and over his stomach before ever-so carefully sliding his braces over his shoulders. Aziraphale’s shirt soon joined his waistcoat, and Aziraphale’s breath hitched when Crowley slid his fingers beneath the hem of his undershirt, fingertips grazing against the soft skin of his stomach for the first time. He gently began to lift the shirt, but knew that attempting to pull it over Aziraphale’s head probably wouldn’t end well. He leaned forward and whispered in Aziraphale’s ear, “Take it off for me, please.”

Aziraphale whimpered quietly and hurriedly divested himself of the undershirt, which he simply discarded beside him, his hands then finding the hem of Crowley’s henley and slipping underneath it.

“You feel incredible, Crowley.”

“Want me to take it off?”

“Yes please.”

As soon as Crowley had thrown his shirt onto the floor, Aziraphale was pulling him close with their chests flush together, kissing him again. Crowley’s hips jerked involuntarily and he moaned against Aziraphale’s mouth. As much as Crowley didn’t want to pull away, he really wanted to get out of these stupidly tight jeans. Since non-essential retail was bound to close again in a couple of weeks, he determined that he should probably invest in some new, slightly less tight, trousers before that happened.

“Mind if I take these off?” Crowley asked, his hands moving down to his belt buckle, the back of his hand pressing against Aziraphale’s erection in the process. Aziraphale groaned and squirmed against him, his mouth once again on Crowley’s throat.

“Mmm. Yes. Please.”

“And you?”

He felt Aziraphale nod his head against his shoulder and climbed off him, unfastening his belt and getting out of his jeans as quickly as humanly possible. Aziraphale was quicker, and had even managed to fold his trousers in the time it took Crowley to wriggle free of the outrageously confining material. Crowley licked his lips and just looked at him for a moment, letting his eyes trail up and down his body. Aziraphale was doing the same to him, and Crowley felt himself flush even more beneath his scrutiny. Aziraphale was wearing tartan boxers, because of course he was, and Crowley was vaguely, distantly concerned that he might start having a Pavlovian reaction to seeing anything with a tartan pattern on it from now on. Best to avoid Scotland for a while, he thought, before realising it was a moot point, what with an impending second lockdown.

“Lie down,” Aziraphale whispered softly. Crowley settled himself back on the bed, and when Aziraphale shuffled close to him and Crowley realised what was probably about to happen, he felt all of the blood drain away from his brain and coalesce in his groin, letting out an indecipherable sound in response. “Is this what you wanted?” Aziraphale whispered in his ear in that deep, rumbling tone that drove Crowley crazy, before gently nipping at his earlobe. Crowley could actually feel himself melting into the bed.

“Ngk. Yes.”

“Good. I’ve been looking forward to this. I’ve wanted nothing more than to be close to you like this, to tell you how much I love you. You feel better than I could have ever imagined. Thank you for everything, Crowley. I can’t imagine what these past six months would have been like without you.”

Crowley turned his head so he could kiss Aziraphale again, his words once again bringing to the front of Crowley's mind that this was real, this was actually happening.

“I don’t know how I’d have got through it without you,” Crowley whispered.

“I’m so glad you came to my reading group.” Aziraphale kissed Crowley sweetly on the cheek a few times. “Thank you.”

“I studied for it, you know. I didn’t just read the book, I did research online. I wrote notes!”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Wanted to impress you.”

“Oh… thank you.” Six months had passed, but Aziraphale still seemed genuinely touched, and the warmth in Crowley’s chest flared again. “Well, you’ve certainly impressed me.”

Then they were kissing again, hands roaming over each other’s bodies, clutching at each other, trying to be as close as it was possible to be. Their hips were grinding against each other, the delicious friction triggering more waves of intense pleasure, enough for Crowley’s mind to finally start to fall quiet, all of his attention diverted to his need to touch Aziraphale.

Aziraphale rolled Crowley onto his back and kissed his way up along his throat, his hot breath again in Crowley’s ear, making him tremble with want. “You are exquisite. You are perfect. I love you so much,” he whispered between kisses to the delicate skin beneath Crowley’s ear. “Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.”

Crowley made a wounded sort of sound. “Fuck, is that Shakespeare?”

“Mmm. Hamlet.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Aziraphale whispered teasingly, before slipping his fingertips under the waistband of Crowley’s boxers, lightly grazing the sensitive skin on the inside of his hip, so close to touching Crowley where he most wanted him to. “You stepped into my world like a galaxy bursting in front of an astronomer’s telescope. Tell me, with all those speckles on your skin did anyone tell you that you are a constellation, waiting to be loved and explored?

Fuck, Aziraphale...” Crowley panted as Aziraphale used his free hand to trace patterns between the freckles on Crowley’s shoulder before kissing them softly.

“Will you take these off for me, please?” Aziraphale whispered before tracing his tongue along the shell of Crowley’s ear, tugging gently at his waistband. Crowley’s entire body shuddered.

“If you think the constellation I am is Orion, you might be disappointed,” Crowley joked breathlessly, and he could feel Aziraphale’s lips curve upwards into a smile against his shoulder.

“I doubt that, I could feel you quite well when you were on top of me. You felt incredible.” Aziraphale slipped his hand a little further down, straightening his fingers to lightly brush against Crowley’s erection. Crowley gasped and squirmed, trying to get closer to his touch. “Besides, nothing about you could ever disappoint me. Everything about you is perfect, because it is part of you.”

Crowley took a steadying breath and complied with the request, before immediately reaching for Aziraphale’s ridiculously sexy tartan boxers, grasping at the material. “And you? Please?” Crowley had long given up any hope of being anywhere near as eloquent as Aziraphale. Aziraphale wriggled free of his boxers and sat up on the bed, beckoning Crowley towards him.

“You felt incredible before. I want to feel you with no barriers between us.”

Crowley swallowed thickly and scrambled up, straddling Aziraphale’s hips again. Aziraphale ran his hands down the length of his back and then grabbed his arse, snapping their hips together before reaching between them to take them both in hand, followed by some awkward fumbling trying to reach the handle of the top drawer of his bedside cabinet. What little of Crowley’s brain was still functioning eventually figured out what Aziraphale was trying to do, so he did the chivalrous thing and took over, leaning over and using his sixty-five centimetre long arm to reach into the drawer and extract the lubricant. He handed it over, returning his concentration to kissing the juncture between Aziraphale’s neck and his shoulder.

When Aziraphale started to move his hand, the tense coil inside Crowley’s gut began to tighten, and when Aziraphale started whispering in his ear again, Crowley happily accepted that this wouldn’t last long. It was fine, it didn’t need to. They had tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day…

“Oh God, angel…”

Crowley cried out and slumped against Aziraphale when his climax crashed over him, and Aziraphale followed soon after. Crowley held onto him tightly, pressing kisses to his cheek and neck, his eyes pricking with tears again.

“I love you. That was incredible,” he panted.

“Perfect. You’re perfect.” Aziraphale squeezed him tightly, breathing heavily against his shoulder.

“I never want to let you go.”

“You might have to when you go to work tomorrow, but not until then,” Aziraphale murmured softly, kissing him again. “If you’re willing to join me in the shower, that is?”

As if he even needed to ask.

 


 

After a long, hot shower, in which they had both taken the further opportunity to gently and languorously explore each other’s bodies with their hands as they washed each other, Crowley climbed back into bed with Aziraphale and curled up against him, once again with his head on his chest and his arm draped across him.

“I get to wake up with you again,” he mumbled into his chest, nuzzling against him.

“Yes you do. I’m very much looking forward to it.” Aziraphale tenderly kissed the top of his head.

“So, tomorrow, after you close the shop, do you want to properly go out with me, before everything locks down again?”

“That would be splendid. Perhaps dinner and a show?”

“What kind of show did you have in mind?” Crowley asked lightly, pretty sure he knew where this was going.

“Well, the theatres aren’t open,” Aziraphale replied suggestively, confirming Crowley’s suspicions. Crowley grinned and shifted a bit, tilting his head up to kiss him.

“I think I can probably come up with something you’ll enjoy.”

Aziraphale chuckled and kissed him again. “Wonderful. It’s a date.”

Crowley grinned and snuggled up close, listening to the soothing, rhythmic sound of Aziraphale’s heartbeat. Within a couple of weeks they would be severely limited with where they would be able to go, but it really didn’t matter. There was literally nowhere else in the world where Crowley would rather be.

Notes:

The end!! Thank you all so much for all your kudos, lovely comments and support for this story! I really hope you enjoyed it! <3

The second bit of poetry Aziraphale recites is from Nikita Gill - Great Goddesses ("Hades and Persephone") - thank you so much KissMyAsthma for suggesting it! <3 <3 <3