Happy Holidays, HolyCatsAndRabbits!

[goe_mod]

Title: Completely Batty
Rating: Explicit
Summary: Aziraphale is a kind-hearted soul who feeds the stray cats that live in the alley behind his bookshop. When one of the cats catches a bat right in front of him, he finds it in his heart to care for an entirely different species.

“Oh, you brute!” Aziraphale let the bowl of cat food fall from his hand and lunged for the ginger tabby, grabbing its scruff. “Drop it right now or I shan’t feed you ever again!”

When his empty threat failed to produce any results, he gently prised open the cat’s mouth and eased out the small bat. Its wings fluttered weakly against Aziraphale’s fingers as he freed it from the jaws of the raggedy alley cat.

The cat wriggled free and immediately began wolfing down the scattered biscuits, apparently forgetting his prey in favour of the more accessible feast at his feet.

“I don’t know why I bother feeding you if you’re just going to commit cold-blooded murder right in front of me.” Aziraphale had never come to terms with the brutal violence of life on the streets for a stray cat, but he had made a habit of putting down some food for the few that congregated around the back door of his bookshop. 

He turned the bat over in his hands to check for any obvious signs of injury. One wing was hanging limply but there didn’t appear to be any bleeding.

“You poor thing, come inside with me and we’ll see about getting you better.”

Leaving the ginger predator to his ill-gotten spoils, Aziraphale brought the bat into the back room of the shop and locked the back door behind him. He supposed that the best thing to do would be to try and find a local wildlife rescue charity, or perhaps a vet. He wasn’t sure that a normal vet would see a bat, but it would be better than nothing. Knowing that it might take a while to find the right information, Aziraphale started looking around for a temporary home for his impromptu guest. 

Still holding the bat in one hand, he found a clean duster and a box of tea bags that was near enough to being empty that Aziraphale didn’t mind repurposing it. He made a little nest with the duster and gently tucked the bat inside, taking care to move the injured wing as little as possible.

“There we go, much better than my hand, I’ll bet. Now, just bear with me while I find out the best way to help you.” Aziraphale considered the shivering creature for a moment. “You’d probably like to be somewhere warm and dark, wouldn’t you? That’s something that can help with shock, I think.”

The bat didn’t answer, but that was to be expected. Aziraphale was certain that he’d read something about the importance of keeping someone warm after a shock, that and the benefits of a cup of sugary tea. He thought that at least some of that must apply to bats as well. It wouldn’t do any harm, at least, he reasoned as he carried the box upstairs to the flat above the shop. 

The airing cupboard was warm, dark, and enclosed. It looked to be the perfect place to put an injured little bat. Aziraphale had taken the shelves out a few years ago, intending to revamp the space, but then lost interest in the project almost immediately. As such, he had to set the box on a folded beach towel, nestled up against the hot water tank.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, you just hold on for me.” Aziraphale patted the closed top of the box as if he could instill a measure of comfort through his touch.

It took a few minutes for his ancient laptop to power up, minutes that Aziraphale spent anxiously fiddling with the buttons on his cardigan.

Logically, he knew that he wasn’t truly responsible for the natural predatory urge of a stray cat he happened to feed, but Aziraphale couldn’t help feeling guilty. The image of the cat leaping to snatch the bat out of the air seemed set to haunt Aziraphale for days. It was rare enough to see a bat in London in the first place, Aziraphale found himself desperately hoping that the little bat would be alright.

He finally accessed the internet and, in the absence of a single better idea, he typed out “what should I do with an injured bat, please?” and hit search. The first result was for the promisingly-named Bat Conservation Trust and took Aziraphale right to their advice for dealing with an injured bat. For the most part, it seemed that his instincts had been good. There were some warnings about the importance of wearing gloves when handling bats and avoiding getting bitten which surprised him. Aziraphale had been under the impression that the UK was free of rabies but he read that a small number of native bats carried a very similar virus. The other suggestion was to offer a small dish of water in something like a milk bottle lid. He’d sort that out shortly, his main concern as still getting the bat somewhere it could get medical attention.

The website offered a phone number to call so Aziraphale found a notepad and pen in case he needed to take down any details and dialled the number. A helpful woman answered and asked him a few questions before giving him the contact details for his nearest bat rescue volunteer.

The gentleman who answered his next call was just as pleasant. Aziraphale explained the situation he had found himself in and the man made encouraging noises.

“I’ve put the little chap in a box in the airing cupboard, do you think that’s alright?” 

“Sounds very sensible. I’m sure he’ll be quite alright in there. Now, I won’t be able to get to you until tomorrow morning, will you be able to hold onto him until then?”

“Oh, yes, that won’t be a problem. Should I give him anything to eat? “

“Nah, just a little water will be perfect. Try to keep it topped up, but you don’t want anything too deep. Now, I’ve got your address so I’ll pop over first thing tomorrow. If, for any reason, he doesn’t make it through the night, please do just give me a heads up, yeah?”

“Oh, of course. Yes, well, here’s hoping it won’t come to that.”

Aziraphale felt much happier after the call. He hadn’t made any horrible mistakes in his rescue attempt so far and there were people with knowledge who would take over in the morning. He just needed to keep the little creature alive and comfortable for a few hours.

After finding a pair of gloves, Aziraphale rinsed out a milk bottle lid and filled it with a little water. He wondered if he’d be able to get a close enough look at the bat to attempt an identification. None of the photos on the website had looked quite right but Aziraphale supposed that he hadn’t really been looking that carefully.

With the water in hand, Aziraphale made his way back to the airing cupboard and opened the door carefully so as not to startle the injured bat.

“Who the devil are you?!” he yelped at the strange man curled up on the floor of the cupboard.

The man glanced up, shock racing across his face chased away by a ferocious snarl. He lunged at Aziraphale with an animal hiss. As he brought his arms up to grab Aziraphale, his already pale complexion blanched to a deathly grey. Whimpering, he curled protectively around his arm and shrank back. There was a soft pop and the man was gone, leaving only the little bat clinging to the duster in the crushed remains of the tea box, its wings splayed out awkwardly.

Aziraphale was frozen to the spot, completely unable to process what he’d just seen. There was no logical explanation that he could summon to explain it.

“Your box is ruined,” he said after a long silence. It was possibly the only part that he could make sense of.

Aziraphale crouched down and scooped the duster up in his gloved hands, moving the bat off the remains of the box.

“Would you like some water? Or should I go find another box first?” It felt silly to be addressing the bat but Aziraphale was fairly certain that it had just been if not a man then at least man-shaped. Maybe it couldn’t understand him, but if it could then he supposed it would be more polite to consider its opinions on proceedings.

As soon as the bat was settled again, it turned its head to fix Aziraphale with an unreadable stare. There was something undeniably intelligent in those eyes, something dangerous too. Something that told Aziraphale he should be afraid of the creature he'd brought into his home. A chill ran down his spine at the sight.

Slowly and carefully, Aziraphale put the little water dish beside the bat before withdrawing to what he hoped was a safe distance. He had no idea what he was dealing with, but there was still an injured animal in need of his help. That part he could do something about.

The bat crawled over the soft, yellow duster and took a couple of tentative sips, its eyes flicking suspiciously between Aziraphale and the water dish.

"Right, well, I'd better go find another box. Unless you're planning on changing shape again?"

He made to stand, putting one hand on the doorframe, when the bat began to tremble. Between one breath and the next, the bat was replaced once more with the pale man in loose black clothes.

"Urgh," he said, looking down at the wet spot he'd made by spilling the little water dish.

"Oh goodness," said Aziraphale, quite shaken by the confirmation that he was definitely losing his mind, "you're back."

The threat seemed to have left the man drained of his strength and vitality.

"Help me," he said, his voice dry and papery, "please."

He was still cradling his arm close to his body. Aziraphale noted that it was the same side as the bat's injured wing. 

"What do you need? How can I help you?"

Aziraphale had always been told that his heart was too soft, that he would be taken advantage of his whole life. Faced with suffering, though, he couldn't find it in him to do anything other than try to make it better.

"I need blood. Just a little, really. Then my body can heal."

"So you really are a vampire?" Aziraphale felt stupid just saying it out loud, but what other explanation was there?

The man started to shrug and sucked a breath in between his teeth as the movement jolted his arm.

"Yeah, that's the commonly understood name for it." He offered a tight, humourless smile that made Aziraphale's heart ache.

"Would you kill me?" Aziraphale asked quietly.

"No! God, no, I'd go small again and take the tiniest amount." He didn't seem offended by the question so much as keen to assure Aziraphale that he would be safe.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Aziraphale said, stifling an entirely inappropriate giggle, "the bat rescue people all warned me about the danger of bat bites!"

"I'm not really a bat, though. No bat diseases to worry about." He seemed sweetly sincere about it.

Another thought occurred to Aziraphale then.

"I suppose I had better let that nice gentleman from the bat charity know not to come pick you up."

The vampire startled, his eyes going wide. Even in the semi-dark of the airing cupboard, Aziraphale could see that there was something inhuman about them.

"You won't tell them what I am, will you?"

Aziraphale shook his head, finding himself endeared by the display of vulnerability.

"Who would believe me? No, don't worry. I'll take care of it discreetly. Best do it before I forget, though. Then we can get back to discussing this, ah, blood business." Aziraphale stood slowly and brushed off his trousers. "My name is Aziraphale, by the way. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Again, the vampire looked surprised, as if unaccustomed to simple social niceties.

"Crowley," he said, swallowing thickly. "My name is Crowley."

Aziraphale beamed at him and felt his shoulders give an involuntary wiggle of happiness.

"Sit tight and I'll be right back."

 

The follow-up phonecall was very brief. Aziraphale was not a good liar so he tried to use wording that wasn't technically false to get his point across. The bat was no longer with us. The pick up would be unnecessary. No, there was no ring on the bat. Yes, he was certain he could deal with disposal. 

Once it was done, he took a few minutes just to sit at his desk and breathe.

There was a mythical creature sitting in his airing cupboard. It wanted to bite him and drink his blood. Worst of all, Aziraphale was going to allow this to happen.

Crowley was clearly injured and in pain. Aside from his initial lunge, he had been polite and open about the state of things. Even that aborted attack had a feeling of desperation and fear about it rather than true aggression. 

Maybe Aziraphale was fooling himself and seeing gentleness where he wanted it to be, but he also knew the kind of person he strove to be. He would rather offer kindness and be taken for a fool than turn away someone in need and prove himself to be cruel.

Thus resolved, Aziraphale went back to where Crowley was huddled.

"I've taken care of the first problem, now let's see about this one, shall we? Would you like to come out of that cupboard?" He offered a hand to Crowley's uninjured arm.

"It really hurts to move," he said, shaking his head slightly, "do you mind if we stay here until I've managed to heal a bit?"

"Not at all," Aziraphale said, sitting back down by the open door, "I do have some questions before we begin, though." 

Crowley's face lit up.

"You're going to help me? God, yes. Ask anything. I'm completely in your debt."

Aziraphale made a dismissive sound.

"I'm just doing what anyone would. I'm sure no one would leave you to suffer."

Crowley didn't answer that, but the look on his face made Aziraphale's stomach sink. Perhaps the world was not as kind as he liked to think.

"Go on," Crowley said rather gently, "I won't be offended."

"It might sound rather silly. I suppose I want to know if it'll affect me? Will I turn into a vampire as well?"

Crowley shook his head and winced, pain etched across his face.

"No, there's no risk of that. As far as your body will be concerned, it'll be no different to getting a small cut."

"That's reassuring, thank you. I don't really understand how it will help you, though. Wouldn't it be better to see about setting your arm, maybe seeing a doctor?"

With his uninjured arm, Crowley made some meandering gesture which managed to convey exactly nothing.

"I heal faster than humans," he said after a few seconds of Aziraphale's blank expression, "it seems to be even faster when I have a feed of fresh blood. I don't know the mechanics of it all."

That was as good an answer as Aziraphale could hope to get. It seemed cruel to make Crowley wait in pain any longer.

"How do we go about this, then?"

"I'll switch forms again and stay on the cloth, if you could rest your hand by my mouth, I'll bite your fingertip and have a small feed. If you're really sure about this?"

"Positive." Aziraphale gave a decisive nod and moved closer, shuffling across the floor. "Is there anything I can do for you afterwards?"

"Not really, although, would it be alright for me to stay in here until tomorrow night?"

"In the airing cupboard?" Aziraphale asked, incredulous.

"Yes, it's warm and dark. I'll be safe in here during the daylight hours." He paused and seemed to shrink in on himself a bit. "It's alright if you'd rather I left. In fact, I'm already imposing. Forget I asked, I'll get out of your hair before dawn."

Aziraphale tutted fondly, already hopelessly endeared by Crowley's nervous uncertainty.

"Nonsense, my dear fellow. Of course you're welcome to stay. Will you need anything? Water, blankets, or some such?"

Crowley reached for the yellow duster with his good hand and fluffed it up a little, arranging it just so.

"This will be plenty, thanks. It's soft. Just keep this door closed until after sunset tomorrow, please. Are you ready now?"

Aziraphale nodded and Crowley promptly disappeared, shrinking down to his smaller shape in an instant. The transformation still startled Aziraphale, but he thought he recovered his composure admirably. 

As he moved closer, practically crawling into the airing cupboard to get comfortably close enough to reach Crowley, Aziraphale couldn't help but think that the little bat was actually a very dear creature.

He held the pad of his ring finger to Crowley's mouth and tried to brace himself for the pain of the bite. The sharp little teeth sank into his skin so swiftly that there was almost no time for the pain to register before the soft lapping of Crowley's tongue soothed it away.

He watched, fascinated, as Crowley licked up the beads of blood that were welling from the wound. Aziraphale wondered distantly if it was odd that he should find it this easy to consider the bat to be just as much Crowley as his other form. It wasn't the sort of thing that had an established precedent.

The gentle sweeps of Crowley's tongue began to feel rather ticklish, forcing Aziraphale to focus on keeping his hand still. One slight twitch of his fingers could send Crowley flying across the cupboard and that would definitely be bad for his injury.

With that in mind, Aziraphale leaned closer to try and get a look at the injured wing. It was stretched out to one side, but no longer hanging limply. The tiny digit at the joint was flexing in time with the strokes of Crowley’s tongue, clutching at the duster weakly. Further along the wing, there was a break to the bone which Aziraphale watched begin to knit itself back together, the angle correcting before his eyes.

After just a couple of minutes, Crowley pulled back from Aziraphale’s finger. The wound stopped bleeding almost as soon as the bat moved away.

“Ah, all done, are we?” Aziraphale asked, carefully keeping his hand still until he was certain that Crowley was finished.

The bat squeaked and gave Aziraphale’s finger a gentle bop with his head. It seemed pretty clear to Aziraphale that his services were no longer required.

“Very good. Rest well and I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

He got up from the floor, dusted off his knees, and slowly closed the door on Crowley. Just before the latch caught, he could have sworn that he heard a squeak that almost sounded like ‘thank you’.

 

Aziraphale struggled to return to his usual routine after that. He tried to settle with a book and a cup of cocoa, but his mind kept wandering back to the bizarrely endearing creature in his airing cupboard. The urge to go and check on Crowley was extremely strong, partly to make sure he was doing alright, and partly to make sure that he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. Within about an hour of leaving Crowley, the bite on his finger had completely healed with not even a scar to show for it. 

Endlessly curious and unable to focus, Aziraphale put himself to bed and tried, futilely, to ignore his racing thoughts.

He was distracted all the next day as well. After a fitful sleep, he managed to go through the motions of opening the bookshop without actually unlocking the door. It wasn’t until a little after midday, when the postman hammered on the front door to deliver a package, that Aziraphale realised what he’d done. He’d been too distracted to even notice the lack of customers.

After a day full of putting his keys in the fridge and far more forgotten cups of tea than usual, Aziraphale finally shut up shop just as the sun began to dip below the horizon. He checked and double checked the precise time of sunset, and then decided to wait another fifteen minutes just to be safe. Although he was almost vibrating out of his skin with excitement, he didn’t want to risk harming Crowley by being too eager.

Aziraphale braced himself in front of the airing cupboard door, taking a deep breath, before knocking gently and then opening the door.

Crowley was man-shaped, huddled over in the corner as if he could curl up into a tight enough ball and be invisible. As the door swung open, he looked up at Aziraphale with wary eyes the colour of warm honey. In the few short moments that Aziraphale allowed himself to just look at Crowley, he could begin to see all the ways in which he wasn’t quite human. The lustre of his skin, the sharpness of his bones, the flexibility of his body; it all gave the impression of something just to the left of normal. Something that should, perhaps, feel dangerous.

“Hello again,” Aziraphale said in his most gentle voice, “How are you feeling today?”

Crowley blinked slowly and began to uncurl, putting Aziraphale in mind of a dozing cat. When he smiled, he revealed a row of sharp, white teeth that looked altogether out of place in his tentative expression.

“Much better, thank you. It was good of you to let me stay.”

Aziraphale dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand.

“Oh, pish. You’ve been no bother at all.”

Crowley grinned.

“Pish? Who says that these days?”

“I do, it’s a perfectly ordinary word!” Aziraphale huffed, standing a little straighter.

Crowley giggled in delight, a sound far sweeter than Aziraphale could have expected.

“Right, right. I’m several centuries old, but you’re the one using outdated vernacular. Perfectly ordinary!”

Crowley began to crawl forward, out of the cupboard. His injured arm was still tucked up against his chest, though. Aziraphale frowned.

“Is it still giving you trouble?” He nodded towards Crowley’s arm.

Crowley looked down as if he’d forgotten all about the injury.

“Oh, yeah. It’ll take a couple of days to fully heal up, but it really is much better than it was. I can get going now, don’t worry about that.” He sounded almost ashamed of having imposed on Aziraphale at all.

“But you can’t fly, can you? You can barely use the arm so I can’t imagine that the wing is up for anything strenuous.”

Crowley grimaced, finally getting to his feet. He stood a couple of inches taller than Aziraphale but managed not to loom over him.

“I can walk, it’s fine. Perfectly functional legs, see?” He bent his knees a couple of times to demonstrate. Aziraphale saw the wince that accompanied the movement.

“You are, of course, completely free to leave. There’s nothing stopping you from going. But I would really prefer it if you stayed until you were fully healed. That arm could use a sling, and rest. Please, do stay.”

Crowley looked shocked. His eyes went wide and his mouth formed a little ‘o’ of surprise.

“Really?” he asked after a long moment.

Aziraphale nodded decisively.

“Absolutely. I insist.”

Gently, he steered Crowley into his living room and encouraged him to sit on the sofa. He fetched the first aid box from the shop and found the triangular bandage inside.

“Learned this in the Scouts,” he explained. “It’s been a while, though. Hold still for me.”

Positioning Crowley’s arm diagonally across his chest, Aziraphale was pleased to discover that his memory of sling tying had remained intact. He lingered a little over getting the lay just right, finding something thrilling in running his hands over the firm, slightly cool stretch of Crowley’s chest. Leaning in close to tie the knot beside Crowley’s neck, Aziraphale let himself accept that he was attracted to man.

Hearing the quiet inhale as Crowley leaned into Aziraphale’s neck made him think that maybe it was reciprocated. Or perhaps it was just that he was a hungry vampire.

 

Aziraphale stayed up far too late that night, talking and laughing with Crowley. He was easy to talk to and made for positively charming company. He had stories that spanned multiple centuries and still seemed interested in the anecdotes that Aziraphale dared to offer. He was an endless font of patience when it came to Aziraphale’s questions about his life and various vampiric myths.

“Just ask, if I know then I’ll tell you,” he said, after insisting that Aziraphale eat something but declining any offer of food himself.

“Oh, alright. So, no human food. What about drink?”

“I don’t need it, but I can drink alcohol and get drunk for a few hours.”

“Preference for virgins?”

“One guy with a fetish doesn’t define an entire race.”

“Fair enough! Sunlight is obviously out, how true is the information about crucifixes and holy water? A stake through the heart?”

“Right to the grim stuff, eh? No, no, I’m teasing, it’s fine. All religious iconography can burn. Holy water is painful but not deadly. A stake through the heart will kill most things, I’ve found. Planning to do me in after all?”

“Goodness, no. What a terrible host that would make me! Oh, do you have to be invited in to places?”

“Yeah, if it’s a home. Always have to be invited.”

“Even as a bat?”

“Yup, even as a bat.”

“Well, how did you…?”

“You invited me in with you.”

Aziraphale thought about it.

“Ah, yes. I rather did, didn’t I?”

“You did.” Crowley gave a very soft smile at that, making Aziraphale’s insides squirm.

 

Eventually, Crowley told Aziraphale to go to bed. He was exhausted but so reluctant to leave Crowley’s company. He helped Crowley back to the airing cupboard, bringing a blanket along to try and make it a bit more comfortable.

“Do you need to feed again?” Aziraphale asked, stifling a yawn.

“Would you mind?”

“Not at all. Same as before? Let’s get that sling off you before you turn, though. Don’t want you getting tangled.”

Crowley meekly submitted to Aziraphale’s attentions, ducking his head to allow the sling to be removed and helping to fluff up the blanket before changing forms. Aziraphale found it easier and easier to forget about the danger he represented.

“Goodnight,” he said to the drowsy bat with a full belly, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

 

This became the pattern for the next few nights. Aziraphale would count the minutes to sunset, finally waiting by the airing cupboard door until it was safe to open. He would help Crowley up, take him to the living room, and carefully fit his sling back in place, grateful for the closeness it allowed. They would talk and laugh, Crowley would remind Aziraphale to eat, and they would enjoy each other's company until the demands of a mortal body forced Aziraphale to call it a night. Crowley would return to the cupboard, turn into the sweetest little bat, and feed on Aziraphale’s finger. 

As dangerous and stupid as it was, Aziraphale knew that his growing affection for Crowley was becoming something far larger than mere friendship. He refused to think about what would happen when Crowley no longer needed him.

 

It had been almost a week since Crowley had arrived. A week that seemed to pass in the blink of an eye and also like an eternity. Aziraphale was forever changed by it. He stood by the door to Crowley’s cupboard, waiting for the last rays of sunlight to fade. As always, he knocked and opened the door.

Crowley smiled up at him immediately.

“Evening!”

Aziraphale grinned in return and offered his hand to help Crowley up. Crowley gripped his hand and pulled himself up to standing before they both looked down at their joined hands.

“It looks like your arm is healed.” Aziraphale felt cold inside. He didn’t know how to deal with the loss he was about to face.

“So it is,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale refused to read anything into the flatness of his voice. “I guess I can finally get out of your hair.”

Aziraphale’s hand squeezed briefly at Crowley’s before he forced himself to let go.

“Yes, no sense staying trapped here if you don’t need to be.” He looked away from Crowley, unwilling to let him see the emotions he felt. He couldn’t keep Crowley, he’d always known this.

“Was never trapped, angel. I- You-” he stuttered before growling to himself and running a hand over his face. “Thank you. I want to say thank you.”

“It’s truly been my pleasure having you here, Crowley.” And although the voice in his head was screaming ‘kiss him, kiss him!’ Aziraphale managed to hold back. “Do you need to be heading off right now? Or would you like to stay for the evening?”

Crowley rubbed the back of his neck and looked pained for a second.

“I should go. No sense in putting it off.”

Aziraphale’s heart sank. 

“Let me walk you out, then.”

As they walked to the back door of the bookshop, Aziraphale reminded himself of all the reasons he’d compiled for why he shouldn’t kiss Crowley. He didn’t want Crowley to feel obliged to return his affection. He didn’t want to ruin the memory of a marvellous week with a last minute disappointment. Crowley was a vampire hundreds of years older than Aziraphale, what future could they hope to have?

All too soon, they were standing in the doorway. Aziraphale made a show of checking the alley for cats before letting Crowley out.

“I hope you know that you’ll always be welcome here, Crowley. I would love to stay friends with you.”

Crowley surprised him with a sudden hug, holding him tight to his chest.

“Of course. Thank you.”

Before Aziraphale could say anything else, Crowley released him and flew off with barely a breath between one form and another. Aziraphale watched the sky long after Crowley disappeared from sight, trying to rationalise the ache of longing in his chest.

When he finally went back inside, he found Crowley’s sling waiting on the arm of the sofa, no longer required. In a fit of sentimentality, he went to fetch the duster from the airing cupboard, the duster that Crowley had always clung to when he slept as a bat, but it was nowhere to be found. Confused, Aziraphale folded the sling and tucked it into his pocket where he could touch it and remind himself of what he had been lucky enough to experience.

 

For a week, Aziraphale spent the hour after sunset at his backdoor, watching for bats. For over a month, he left the living room window open and checked the airing cupboard every evening. For six months, he would startle at any noise in the night, rushing down the stairs to his back door and flinging it open only to find amorous alley cats, or a scavenging fox. Always, he carried the folded sling in his pocket, often stroking it absentmindedly with one finger. Crowley did not come back.

 

One day, many months after Aziraphale had given up hope, he was awoken by a great banging on the front door of the shop. A quick glance at the clock told him it was almost 3 in the morning. It wasn’t all that uncommon for drunks and revellers to cause trouble at this time. After all, he did run a bookshop in Soho. Aziraphale rolled over in bed and ignored it. 

The banging came again, louder than before, more insistent. With a huff, Aziraphale threw back his covers and shoved his feet into slippers. He stomped down the stairs, pulling on his dressing gown over his pyjamas, and unlocked the door ready to give a piece of his mind to whatever drunk was on the other side.

“Crowley?” All the fight went out of him at the sight of that dearly missed face.

The moonlight rendered him more pale than ever and he almost seemed to glow with it.

“Angel!” Crowley threw himself at Aziraphale, hugging him tightly. “Missed you!”

Aziraphale thought of several things to say to that, chiefly about how Crowley had been given an open invitation to return and never used it, but one thing was slightly more pressing.

“Crowley, are you drunk?”

Pulling back, Crowley looked down at himself, wiggling his fingers and patting his body.

“Don’t think so. Don’t feel drunk. Feel weeeird. Good, though.” He began to giggle as if he’d made a great joke.

Aziraphale reached for the lightswitch to get a better look. Crowley hissed and reared back at the sudden light before remembering himself and giggling again.

“Not the sun! I remember. ‘Lectric lights, dead good. Big fan, me.”

His pupils were huge and he was having trouble focusing. Aziraphale recognised that look from his misspent youth.

“Crowley, you’re stoned!”

“Am I?”

“Oh, goodness me. Come inside, you daft thing.”

Aziraphale ushered him into the back room of the shop, not really trusting Crowley’s ability to navigate stairs in this state.

“Angel, Aziraphale, you gotta let me say something.” Aziraphale got him sitting down on the lumpy old sofa and promptly found himself pulled down to sit beside Crowley. “‘M sorry, I tried to stay away from you. Thought it would be best, safest. Been sad without you, though.” He pulled an exaggerated face, turning down the corners of his mouth. “Had a nip this evening and suddenly couldn’t remember why I’d thought that was a good idea. You wanted to be friends and I ran away. Too scared. Don’t wanna be scared of you.”

His hands had been waving through the air, trying to help him explain things, but now they were still and resting in his lap. Aziraphale took hold of one and squeezed it gently.

“You came because you missed me, not because you need help?” 

Crowley nodded, his free hand patting around his pockets.

“Yeah. I’m fine, worst case I sleep this off. Probably metsab- mesabo- metrasb- wosserword? Metabolise! That, get it out of my system in an hour or two. Be fine. Missed you.” His questing hand appeared to find its goal and pulled something out of his pocket. “See? Took it. Kept it. To remember.” Crowley pressed the yellow duster into Aziraphale’s hand. 

Aziraphale stared at it, feeling his heart ache. When he looked up again, Crowley’s expression was so earnest and pleading that whatever resistance Aziraphale might have had was completely destroyed.

“I missed you too. I thought, perhaps, I’d done something wrong or misunderstood our time together.”

“No, no, no, no, no. My fault. You’re perfect.”

As Aziraphale started to protest that label, Crowley lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s knuckles. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed, delighted.

“Friends?” Crowley asked, but it sounded like something more. Aziraphale squeezed his hand again.

“If that’s what you would like.”

Crowley leaned in and Aziraphale held his breath in anticipation. His heart was pounding and his senses were full of Crowley.

“I’m a monster, Aziraphale.”

And he was. He was monstrous and inhuman and capable of so much harm. He’d done terrible things in the past and there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t choose that path again. He was a monster and Aziraphale loved him.

“I know, and I choose you anyway. I see you, just as you are, and I like you all the same.”

Crowley groaned and closed the small space between them. His lips were cool and soft against Aziraphale’s mouth. Pliant and undemanding. Aziraphale parted his lips and swiped his tongue against Crowley’s bottom lip. Crowley opened to him immediately and Aziraphale suddenly felt a wave of guilt.

“Dearest, you’re not in your right mind. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Crowley pulled back, looking shocked.

“Take advantage of me? Don’t think that’s even possible.”

“You’re stoned, not in full control of your faculties. You might do something you later regret. I don’t want to be something you regret.”

Crowley’s expression softened immediately.

“Never,” he says, delivering a chaste kiss, “I could never regret this.”

“So you can wait until you’ve sobered up?”

Crowley flopped back dramatically, making Aziraphale laugh with his theatrics.

“That could be hours!” He bolted upright. “Unless… A feed could set me to rights. Just a little nibble, like before. Entirely optional but it would mean I could kiss you more.”

Aziraphale found that he was very amenable to that idea. He set the duster on his lap and made a welcoming gesture.

He watched Crowley’s face scrunch up in concentration. Nothing happened.

“Oh no, I’m too far gone for transformation! I gotta wait it out the long way.”

Aziraphale looked at him carefully, taking in the glint of his teeth and the paleness of his skin. This was his monster and he should embrace every part of him.

“You could bite me without transforming. I know that you don’t need to be a bat to feed.”

“I’ll need more, though.”

“I trust you not to take too much.”

Crowley leaned in close, this time threatening and sinister. He took a deep breath at Aziraphale’s collar, nuzzling against his carotid pulse.

“Are you sure that’s wise?”

Aziraphale chuckled, far more amused (and alarmingly aroused) than scared by the display. He pulled his robe off one shoulder and unbuttoned his pyjama shirt until he was exposed from ear to collar bone.

“Oh, Aziraphale. You undo me.”

Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s throat in soft touches whilst Aziraphale forced himself to stay relaxed, waiting for the bite. To his surprise, Crowley reached across to lift his hand and placed a kiss in his palm.

“Here is better,” he said. He pushed Aziraphale’s sleeve up his arm, sending shivers across his skin. The kisses moved up from his palm to his wrist where Crowley nuzzled again.

“It’s OK, go ahead.”

He watched Crowley’s eyes close and saw his fangs glisten before sinking into the thin skin of his inner wrist. The pain made him gasp but it was gone a moment later. Crowley’s lips fastened onto his wrist to catch the flow of blood and Aziraphale could feel the lapping of his tongue like a soothing rhythm.

Barely a minute later, Crowley pulled back to look, clear-eyed, at Aziraphale. The wound was pink and freshly healed over, undoubtedly through some power of Crowley’s that Aziraphale had never seen the need to question.

“Don’t want to take any more,” Crowley said, climbing over to straddle Aziraphale’s lap, “I’m hoping you’ll have enough left to get hard for me.”

Aziraphale groaned and grabbed Crowley by the back of the neck, hauling him into another kiss. This one was hungry and desperate, no longer uncertain but ferocious with want and desire. Aziraphale could taste the tang of his blood on Crowley’s tongue and found it thrilling. His fingers were tangled in Crowley’s hair one minute and the next they were tugging at the back of Crowley’s shirt, untucking it so he could feel his skin. Reluctantly, he let go long enough to let Crowley push his robe and pyjamas down his arms and off, but then he was straight back to stroking the bare skin of Crowley’s back. It felt like cool marble with a touch of warmth like it had been sitting in the sun.

As they continued to kiss, Aziraphale felt Crowley’s increasingly frustrated attempts to get a hand into his pyjama bottoms. Finally, Crowley leapt off his lap, pulled his own shirt off over his head and gestured to Aziraphale’s remaining clothes.

“Off! Off! Please, come on!”

Aziraphale obliged, lifting his hips to wiggle the pyjamas down his legs, whilst Crowley dropped his own trousers and kicked off his shoes. 

“You’re beautiful,” Aziraphale whispered, catching hold of Crowley’s hands so he could look his fill.

Preternaturally pale, only the very head of Crowley’s erect cock was flushed with any sort of colour. His body was slim but strong, without a mark or scar anywhere on him. Aziraphale thought he’d be ever so pretty with a love bite on his collar bone or teeth marks on his hip.

“Me? Look at you,” Crowley said, raking his eyes over Aziraphale’s naked body.

He was soft with hair on his chest and belly, but Crowley was looking at him like he was Adonis.

He felt the heat of a blush in his cheeks and ducked his head. Crowley climbed back into his lap and cupped his face, bringing it up to be kissed again.

“Perfect, perfect angel.”

They kissed, no less desperately than before. The kind of kiss that reassures the reality of things, that says this is real, they are here. With his hands on Crowley’s arse, Aziraphale drew him closer until they were grinding against each other. Every roll of Crowley’s hips sent sparks into Aziraphale’s core. 

“I’m going to fuck you, and you’ll fuck me, and I’ll suck you off until you go blind then come all over your face until you only see me. All that and more, forever if you want. But right now I just want this,” Crowley said with a particularly measured grind against Aziraphale’s cock. “Is that alright? Do you want this?”

Aziraphale groaned and bucked up against Crowley.

“Yes, all of it, yes. Don’t stop.”

Aziraphale buried his face in the crook of Crowley’s neck and held him tightly so they were just able to rock against each other. Their cocks slid together in an electrifying dance that pushed Aziraphale closer and closer to the edge.

He came with a muffled cry and his teeth bared against Crowley’s skin. He’d barely taken a breath before he worked his hand between them and took hold of Crowley’s cock.

“Can you come for me?” he asked as he stroked, the wetness of his orgasm slicking Crowley’s erection.

“Yes, like that. Fuck, yes.”

A moment or two later, Crowley shivered and tensed, coming into Aziraphale’s hand and huffing out a shuddering breath.

Crowley slumped to the side, snuggling up next to Aziraphale with a minimal amount of movement.

Aziraphale looked around for something to clean up his hand and belly. He briefly considered the yellow duster where it lay on the arm of the sofa but he felt rather sentimental about it. Crowley must have noticed him looking at it and drawn a reasonable conclusion because he reached across Aziraphale to snatch up the duster.

"Don't even think about it. This is mine and not just a rag for you to use." He rubbed it against his cheek and closed his eyes, looking like a child with a comfort blanket.

"Don't worry! It's safe from me." He leaned down to grab his pyjama shirt and wiped the come off his hand and stomach. "Can you stay a while? I'd like to hold you in a bed, if I may."

Crowley made a series of noises that defied any known language but he appeared to be in favour of the idea. Aziraphale stood and reached for Crowley's hand, pulling him up and leading him to the bedroom.

"I don't know exactly how sensitive you are to sunlight, and I don't want to put you at any risk, but I have blackout blinds in here." Aziraphale waved his hand at the window, trying to play it cool.

"Oh, did you… for me?" 

Crowley kissed him before he could answer, backing him up against the bed and tumbling down onto it.

"I hoped," said Aziraphale once he had been thoroughly kissed, "and I didn't want to shut you up in a cupboard again. I want to keep you with me."

Crowley wriggled them around until he was tucked up against Aziraphale's back, his breath a gentle breeze on the fine hairs at the back of Aziraphale's neck.

"You can keep me for as long as you want," he said, barely a whisper in Aziraphale's ear.

"What if that's forever?"

"Then you'll have me forever."

Aziraphale let the weight of that statement settle in his chest. Forever really could mean forever with Crowley. Was he offering that blessed curse of immortality?

"You would turn me?" Aziraphale asked after a long silence.

Crowley kissed Aziraphale's shoulder and his neck with gentle presses full of promise.

"If that's what you wanted. Once I'm certain that you understand the reality of this existence, if you wanted it, I would share it with you."

"And if I chose to remain human and mortal? What then?"

Crowley took a deep breath and pressed closer to Aziraphale's back; Aziraphale started to regret his question.

"I would respect that and stay by your side for as long as you wanted. I would make every moment special for you and never let you doubt my love for you."

Aziraphale twisted around in Crowley's arms, bringing them face-to-face.

"You love me?" 

"Isn't that obvious? Yes, I love you. You are the kindest, most compassionate man I have ever met and I love you."

A lump caught in Aziraphale's throat and, for just a moment, he couldn't respond.

"It's alright if you don't feel the same," Crowley said, sounding so sincere but inching back from the intense contact of their bodies. "I'm a hard thing to love."

"No! You aren't! Loving you is so easy, Crowley, it's the easiest thing I've ever done. Of course I love you!" He kissed Crowley's nose, cheeks, forehead, and mouth. "I love you."

Crowley melted against him.

"That's a relief! All the big stuff will be sorted in time, let's not worry about it now. I'm yours and you're mine. That's all that matters."

Aziraphale couldn't agree more and he expressed this with a lingering, passionate kiss. There had never been a more perfect moment in the entirety of Aziraphale's life and he was going to savour every second of it.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley asked, breathy and rough, "is that a fucking bat box on top of your wardrobe?"

Comments

[dannye_chase]

Oh my GOSH this is the most amazing thing!! I love it so much, thank you!! It's got great humor and such sweetness, and awesome smut! Aziraphale really is such a caring person, and I'm glad that he finds true love in return. What a beautiful story. I'm so grateful for this gift, thank you! <3

[secret_kraken]

I'm so glad you enjoyed it! I was thrilled that I got to create something for you

[maniacalmole]

“intending to revamp the space” Ok. You’ve done it. Best pun of the year award. Many congratulations, I’m so jealous

Aziraphale adding ‘please’ to the end of his google search DX It’s so in character. As is him responding to seeing a bat turn into a MAN and then back again, simply to continue talking to him pleasantly and trying to help him

“He would rather offer kindness and be taken for a fool than turn away someone in need and prove himself to be cruel.” Aziraphale is so brave D’X


Well this was the CUTEST vampire fic I've read! Lovely!

[secret_kraken]

Thank you! You truly understand me. I feel seen! So proud of that pun

[cupidsbow]

Oh, this is such a fun riff on the vampire mythos. Crowley as a bat is too good. Thanks, Santa.

[gothikmaus]

Aw, this was so sweet!

[curiouslissa]

Alarmingly cute vampire fic :D <3
I fell in love with this Aziraphale too!

"He would rather offer kindness and be taken for a fool than turn away someone in need and prove himself to be cruel."

"Aziraphale tutted fondly, already hopelessly endeared by Crowley's nervous uncertainty."

And the image of the sweet little bat on a yellow duster will stay with me <3