Happy Holidays, scullyphile!

[goe_mod]

Title: Wasted Years
Rating: M
Recipient: scullyphile
Pairings: Aziraphale/Crowley, Aziraphale/Others, Crowley/Others
Summary: Aziraphale has known Crowley for years, even though he hasn't always liked him. Over the years, however, things begin to change.
Tags: Human AU, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Mild Emotional Hurt, Eventual Happy Ending, Jealousy, Lack of Communication, College AU

Happy holidays, scullyphile, I hope you like your gift! And thanks to Heretic1103 for beta reading and britpicking!

...

Changing schools right before the start of year 11 isn’t easy for Aziraphale. It is necessary, though. They had to move due to his father getting a new job. And now, Aziraphale has to be the new kid in a place where everyone has known each other for years.

Even though he does want to make friends, it’s a good thing that he doesn’t mind being on his own that much. Because he isn’t brave enough to approach a lot of his fellow students.

The teacher seats him in the middle row, next to a girl who doesn’t seem interested in making friends. At least not with him. Because when Aziraphale introduces himself, she gives a cold, curt reply, and doesn't ask him anything. The message is clear.

It’s fine, though. As long as he excels in class, friends can come later. His marks are what really matters. He does want to make his father proud by getting into a good university.

As the lesson starts, he gives all his attention to the teacher’s words, taking meticulous notes in his neat handwriting. It’s Physics, which unfortunately is not something he’s really good at. He has to give it his all and stay focused at this early hour of the day.

Well into the first half hour of the lesson, the door opens, and a tall, slender boy walks in. His flaming hair is slightly longer than what the school might approve of, his shirt untucked, his tie loose around his neck. Even without speaking a single word to him, Aziraphale can tell he’s trouble.

“Crowley,” the teacher says, unimpressed. “You’re late. Again. Be punctual next time, or you’ll end up in detention by the end of your first week.”

The boy– Crowley– looks unapologetic as he walks past the rows of desks and sits down at the one right behind him. Aziraphale fights the urge to turn around and look at him, keeping his gaze on the teacher who has gone back to talking about the conservation of energy.

Aziraphale tries to stay focused, but he can feel Crowley’s presence behind him, can feel his eyes on the back of his neck. It unnerves him, makes the hair on his arms stand on edge. Crowley seems like someone he shouldn’t mess with, if he wants to survive his remaining time here.

When a kick to the back of his chair startles him, though, he does turn around, almost on instinct. Crowley is looking at him with a slight grin on his lips. Aziraphale huffs and turns back to the board. Maybe it isn’t even on purpose, he tells himself. Maybe Crowley simply doesn’t fit in that small space with his ridiculously long legs.

But when he keeps being bothered by the boy behind him throughout the remainder of the class, he starts to think that Crowley just likes being a menace.

…

The weeks pass in a sort of boring routine. Aziraphale talks to a few people, but it’s never on a personal level. They usually chat about classes and homework. A few people have noticed Aziraphale’s aptitude for Literature and History, and asked for his help with schoolwork.

It’s going better than Aziraphale had initially hoped for.

Except for one thing. Crowley. Aziraphale mostly tries to ignore him, and it isn’t like they have ever talked, but Crowley is everywhere. Aziraphale can almost always spot him out of the corner of his eye. In the queue in front of him at the dining hall, hanging out with his friends under a tree in the schoolyard, smoking a cigarette in the toilets.

It’s a day like any other, Aziraphale struggling through the seemingly unending lesson, trying his best to get a grasp on Newton’s Laws of Motion, when he hears muffled voices behind him. It’s Crowley, talking or maybe arguing with the guy sitting next to him. It isn’t the first time this has happened, and he knows it won’t be the last. But right now, it’s really getting on his nerves, when he’s already struggling to focus on the subject.

He grits his teeth and tries to block out the chatter, but it just keeps going. “Can you not?” he finally asks pointedly, keeping his voice quiet as he turns around to face them. “Some of us are trying to listen here.”

Crowley raises a brow curiously, but does stop talking. Aziraphale feels relieved when he turns back around. But only a few minutes later, the kicking starts. He takes a deep breath to calm down, but he realises he has already missed a chunk of what the teacher is saying, and now he’s even more at a loss. That, combined with the repeated kicking, finally makes him snap.

“Just stop doing that!”

When a silence falls over the classroom, Aziraphale realises the teacher has stopped talking. Instead, he’s looking at them. “That’s enough,” he says, angry. “Fell. Crowley. Detention after school tomorrow.”

Detention? Aziraphale’s heart freezes. He has never got detention before in his life. His record has been immaculate. And now it’s ruined, all because of this stupid boy. He glares at Crowley, not knowing how he’s going to explain this to his father.

…

It goes as well as Aziraphale has expected. His father, after hearing the news, has forbidden him from going out for the next two weeks. He has to come home right after school. Which, all things considered, isn’t the worst punishment. Aziraphale does spend most of his time in his room, if not at the library.

Still, getting detention because of Crowley makes his blood boil. And all that anger bubbles up to the surface when he goes to the classroom where detention will be held, and finds Crowley leaning casually against the door and chewing gum.

“This is all your fault!” Aziraphale says, tone accusing.

“What’s the big deal?” Crowley seems completely unaffected, popping his gum. “It’s just thirty boring minutes of sitting around and doing nothing. I thought you’d be used to boring things.”

“What’s the big deal?” Aziraphale repeats, horrified. “You got me detention!”

There’s a brief pause, then Crowley laughs. “Oh. I see what it is now. This is your first time!” He seems to find this so amusing. However, Aziraphale is not amused in the slightest.

“It’s not funny,” he says, crossing his arms. “This is serious. I got into trouble because of you!”

“Right. I forgot you’re some innocent little angel.” Crowley’s tone is outright mocking. “Well, tell you what, angel. Maybe you should consider taking that stick out of your arse. I promise you, you’ll have a lot more fun.”

Aziraphale is about to respond, but he sees the teacher arriving, and keeps his mouth shut. He doesn’t need this escalating into a fight. Instead, he pushes past Crowley into the classroom. Crowley follows shortly after.

“Crowley. Take off the sunglasses and spit out the gum,” the teacher says, sounding tired of his nonsense already.

Aziraphale can already tell this is going to be a long thirty minutes.

…

For the remainder of the year, he avoids Crowley like the plague, while Crowley’s misbehaviours in class only continue, increasing in their intensity. Aziraphale does his best to not find himself in the boy’s path, ignoring his remarks and baiting.

When the next year comes, he isn’t looking forward to seeing Crowley again. But he has to admit he feels a slight twinge of disappointment when Crowley isn’t there on the first day.

Throughout the week, Aziraphale finds himself waiting for Crowley to arrive. But he doesn’t. And as the weeks go by, he realises that Crowley won’t be coming back this year. Rumours start to spread that Crowley has been kicked out, but Aziraphale isn’t sure to what extent they are true. He doesn’t really know any of Crowley’s friends, and even if he did, he wouldn’t have the courage to ask them about him.

So, he slowly accepts that he will never see Crowley again. For better, or for worse.

…

He never could imagine how wrong he was in that assumption. Because when he opens the door to his dorm room on his first day on campus, there is Crowley, lounging on one of the beds.

“You,” Aziraphale says, not sure if he’s glad to see Crowley again, or angry that he’s apparently his roommate. He’s definitely surprised, though.

“Hi,” Crowley waves casually, and there’s a hint of a grin on his lips. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Aziraphale doesn’t know how to respond. Instead, he just carries his trunk inside and shuts the door behind him. He doesn’t think he’ll be getting friendly with Crowley, and doubts Crowley has any intention of being his friend either. So there’s no point in acting like they enjoy each other’s company.

He’s aware that it’s a bit petty to still hold a grudge about what has happened. But even if it had never happened, people like Crowley and people like him simply don’t become friends. It would be too ridiculous to even think that.

Once he’s done unpacking his stuff, he takes a deep breath and faces Crowley, who is still on the bed.

“Alright, then,” Aziraphale begins, clearing his throat. “If we’re going to be living together, we need to establish some ground rules.”

“Ground rules, huh?” Crowley scoffs, obviously finding the thought ridiculous. “Fine. I’m all ears.”

“First of all, we should at least be civil to each other.”

“Define ‘civil’?”

Aziraphale lets out a long sigh. “Well, I don’t want to constantly argue with you. It would be way too tiring.”

“Agreed,” Crowley says simply.

Aziraphale is a bit taken aback by how easily Crowley has agreed, but decides not to push his luck by commenting. “And we should respect each other’s privacy. Don’t touch my stuff, and I won’t touch yours.”

Crowley shrugs. “I’m not interested in touching anything that’s yours.”

“Right. Good, then. Glad we’re on the same page.” Aziraphale gives a forced smile. “Second of all, no behaviour that breaks the rules. Don’t smoke inside. Don’t play music too loudly. Don’t have people over after a certain hour.”

Crowley’s attention is focused on him now. “No way. What is this? A prison?” He sits up a bit straighter.

“No. It’s a dorm,” Aziraphale says pointedly. “There are rules. I’m not getting in trouble because of you. Not again.”

“Come on, angel. Live a little.” Crowley rolls his eyes. “Just because you’re a boring goody-two-shoes doesn’t mean I’ll waste away the most fun years of my life along with you.”

With that, Crowley is up on his feet. He walks out of the room, shutting the door loudly behind him.

Aziraphale has no idea how he was going to survive this year.

…

Life with Crowley goes as well as expected. At least they rarely see each other, only coming back to sleep in the same room. Crowley is usually out. Sometimes, it’s almost dawn when he comes back. Aziraphale doesn’t mind. He has the room to himself most of the time, and can get some peace and quiet without anyone bothering him.

Except during the rare times Crowley does decide to stay in. During which he is exceptionally terrible.

He is currently blasting music through speakers, and Aziraphale is at his limit. He’s been reading the same page over and over, and can’t focus due to how loud it is.

“Can you please turn the volume down?” he asks through gritted teeth, putting his book down to look at Crowley. “I’m trying to read. I don’t need Freddie Mercury rupturing my eardrums.”

Crowley mutters something under his breath that Aziraphale can’t quite catch. It feels like it might’ve been an insult, though. “What did you say?”

Turning the volume down just a tiny bit, but definitely not enough, Crowley looks up at him. “If you’re so bothered, why don’t you go to the library? Isn’t that for reading books?”

Aziraphale huffs, but decides not to argue. “Fine,” he says sharply instead, starting to gather up his things. “Maybe I will.”

“See? Knew we could come to a compromise.”

“I’m the one making all the compromises!” There’s clear frustration in Aziraphale’s voice. “You’re just… not helping at all!”

“Maybe my compromise is tolerating you being a pain in my arse,” Crowley retorts, before turning up the volume again, louder than before. “Don’t hesitate to come back as late as you want. I’m not waiting for you,” he adds, grinning up at him.

He is just infuriating. Aziraphale can’t take one more second of this. He all but slams the door shut, leaving the dorm in angry strides.

…

After that, Aziraphale figures it’s best to spend most of his time in the library. Nothing beats reading while curling up under cosy blankets, but the perk of not being pestered by his annoying roommate outweighs even that.

So, he only stays in when he knows for certain that Crowley won’t be there, and doesn’t leave the library until it’s dark outside. It’s not as bad as it could’ve been. At least the library is cosy enough. And most importantly, it’s quiet.

He doesn’t realise how quickly the time flew by. He’s been reading for hours, and the library is about to close. Putting his book in his bag, he gets up to leave. It’s late enough that Crowley probably won’t be much of a bother if he’s there. And if he isn’t there, Aziraphale doubts he’ll be back by morning anyway.

When he opens the door to the small room they share, though, he freezes in the doorway. It takes him a few moments to fully register what he is seeing.

Crowley is there, on his bed. But he’s not alone. There’s another man with him. They’re both almost completely naked, and the man’s hand is tangled in Crowley’s hair. Aziraphale can pinpoint the exact moment he pulls, because a low whine makes its way out of Crowley’s throat, and it’s a sound Aziraphale won’t be able to forget no matter how much he tries.

Once he realises he shouldn’t be staring, his face burns hot with embarrassment, colouring to the tips of his ears. What is he doing? It is entirely inappropriate, and he should just leave–

Finally regaining control over his limbs, he turns around and quickly exits the room; the sound of the door closing feels so loud that it makes him wince.

He hears Crowley curse, and there are muffled voices he can’t quite make out. After a few more minutes, the door opens again, and the other guy walks out, giving Aziraphale a nasty glare before leaving.

Aziraphale hesitates by the door; he isn’t sure what to do now. He feels too embarrassed to face Crowley. But this is his room too, isn’t it? Why should he be embarrassed because Crowley decided to bring someone into the dorm?

Gathering up his courage, he walks inside. And immediately regrets it. Crowley is standing there, leaning against the desk. He’s still half naked, wearing only those sinfully tight jeans of his. His hair looks dishevelled, but in a way that only adds to his looks. There’s a hickey forming at the base of his throat, a stark contrast against his pale skin. Aziraphale can’t look away. Crowley has never been particularly shy about nudity, but Aziraphale always made a point of looking away whenever he was changing. It feels too intimate to know that the freckles on Crowley’s face are also scattered across his torso.

Finally, Crowley clears his throat, and Aziraphale realises he’s been staring. The blush that was starting to fade away comes back with full intensity. He is hyper-aware of every nerve in his body. His ribcage almost feels too tight for his heart.

“You’ve got some stellar timing,” Crowley scoffs, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “You’re a real cockblock, you know that?”

Aziraphale doesn’t know what to say. “Well, I’ve–” he begins. “How was I supposed to know that you were–” he gestures around vaguely. “Why would you even think it was a good idea to–” He takes a deep breath to calm himself down, but fails.

“You were out!” Crowley points out. “How was I supposed to know you’d be back so soon?”

“So soon?” Aziraphale repeats, indignant. “It’s almost 10 PM! The library has a closing time, in case you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t,” Crowley says simply. “I thought you nerds could spend your entire day there.”

Aziraphale chooses to ignore his words. “Is this what you do when I’m out?” he asks instead.

“Not… always .” For the first time since this whole thing has started, Aziraphale thinks he sees the faint hint of a blush on Crowley’s cheeks.

“Well, next time, find somewhere else to– to get handsy with your boyfriend!”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

That catches Aziraphale by surprise. But what surprises him the most is the way this revelation makes him feel. It’s almost like the tight fist squeezing his heart has released its hold just a little bit. “No? You seemed pretty close.”

“I mean– yeah, but–” Crowley waves his hand around, before shrugging. “He’s just some guy, y’know? A bit of fun. Which you ruined, by the way.”

“I thought we agreed on not having people over at night!”

“I didn’t agree to shite. You laid out your rules, I said fuck them.”

“Fine, whatever. Can you just–” Aziraphale lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s tired of arguing. “Can you just put some clothes on at least?”

Just like that, a smirk appears on Crowley’s lips. He sees a point of weakness, and then attacks. “Why? Am I distracting you?”

Aziraphale tries his best to control his blush. But even if his face isn’t giving him away, he is almost certain Crowley can hear how loud his heart is beating. “Distracting me? Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, but his voice trembles a little. “You know what? Never mind. I’m just going to bed.”

He doesn’t give Crowley the chance to say anything. Instead, he turns off the lamp and gets in bed without even changing out of his clothes.

His dreams are a blur that night. But there’s the bright flash of red hair as two bodies are intertwined.

…

They don’t talk about that incident again. Aziraphale would honestly be content to just never bring it up. If he could pretend like it had never happened, he would. But from time to time, the images do appear in his mind; he remembers the sound Crowley made, and his skin feels both hot and frozen at the same time.

Still, they don’t talk about it. Until one day Crowley asks him for a favour.

“Can you come back late tonight?” he asks casually. “I might have a guest over.”

“A guest?” Aziraphale doesn’t mean to sound so interested, but he can’t help it. “Is it– you know, that guy?”

“Which guy?” Crowley asks, but then his eyes light up with recognition. “Oh. That guy. No. Haven’t really talked to him since.”

“Right,” Aziraphale says, even as something bitter he doesn’t fully understand swells up inside him.

“Yeah. Anyway. Can you or can you not come back late tonight?”

“How late?”

“Dunno.” Crowley shrugs. “After midnight?”

“After midnight?!” Aziraphale repeats, outraged. “Are you out of your mind? Where am I supposed to stay until then?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“I can’t ‘figure it out.’ The library closes at ten, and it’s freezing out there!” He was having trouble keeping his composure. “Why don’t you just go to his room?”

“He has a roommate.”

“You have a roommate!”

“Well, yeah, but you’re barely in our room.”

“Yes. Because of you!” Aziraphale snaps, finding it difficult to stay calm.

Crowley lets out a sigh and leans against the wall. “Look, you’re overreacting. All I’m asking for is a tiny little favour. Can’t you at least do that?”

“I’m not letting you kick me out of my room so that you can get laid.” Aziraphale tries his best to remain patient, but frustration is seeping into his voice.

“I’m not kicking you out.” Crowley rolls his eyes. “Why does it bother you if I get laid anyway?”

“It doesn’t bother–”

“Hell, go find someone tonight yourself. Spend the night. It’ll do you good.”

“I’m not going to sleep around with strangers, Crowley. I’m not–”

“You’re not what?” Crowley cuts him off. “Like me? Because you’re so high and mighty? Is that it?”

“I never said that.” Aziraphale shakes his head, not liking the direction this is headed. “It’s just not for me.”

“Whatever.” Crowley pushes himself away from the wall, and makes his way to leave. “Keep the fucking room. I’ll find somewhere else to spend the night.”

…

There’s tension between them in the weeks following their argument. But it’s not really anything new at this point. It feels like all they do is argue, and ignore each other when they aren’t arguing. Why couldn’t Aziraphale just have a nice, quiet roommate? It feels like he’s being punished for some crime he didn’t even know he committed.

That weekend, he leaves campus to buy some supplies for his dorm from the nearby town. It starts raining heavily on his way back. Luckily, he always carries an umbrella in his bag for situations like this. So at least he won’t get too wet.

When he spots a familiar figure taking shelter under an awning, he stops in his tracks. “Crowley? What are you doing here?”

Crowley somehow looks both relieved and embarrassed to see him. “This arsehole I was going on a date with stood me up. I was going to go back to campus, but then it started raining and…” he trails off, gesturing vaguely at the rain pouring from the clouds.

“Well, I have an umbrella,” Aziraphale offers. “I think it should be big enough for both of us. It may not be the best solution, but at least we can go back without getting soaked.”

Confusion twists Crowley’s face. “You’re offering to share your umbrella with me?”

“Yes? Do you… not want it?”

“No– no, it’s just… I mean, why?”

“What do you mean?” This time, it’s Aziraphale’s turn to be confused.

“Why’re you being nice to me?” Crowley rephrases. “I’ve been a dick to you ever since… well, ever since we were sixteen, really. You have every reason not to want to help me.”

Much to his own surprise, Aziraphale actually laughs. “Well, when you put it that way…” he agrees. “But I won’t leave you out in the rain and let you catch a cold just because we had… some disagreements.”

Crowley looks taken aback, but smiles in the end. Not a smirk or a grin, but a more genuine smile than Aziraphale has ever seen on him. “Huh. I guess I was right to call you an angel after all.”

…

Despite the umbrella, their clothes are a little wet when they arrive back at their dorm. Both of them change into more comfortable and warmer clothes– Aziraphale making sure to keep his eyes cast away as Crowley changes– and they curl up under their blankets.

The weather has somehow become even worse; it is a full-on storm now. Neither of them can go out, and this is going to be the first time they’re here together other than when they’re sleeping since their argument a few weeks ago.

Aziraphale should probably keep his mouth shut and not make conversation in order to avoid any arguments. He should take advantage of what little peace he has right now; he shouldn’t risk ruining it.

But for some reason, he can’t help it.

“So, your date who… well, stood you up,” he begins, though he isn’t sure how to follow that up. Suddenly, he regrets speaking at all.

“Yeah?” Crowley asks, looking up at him from his bed on the opposite wall. “What about him?”

“Forgive me if I’m being nosy–”

“You kinda are, yeah.”

Aziraphale’s face flushes, and he doesn’t know what to say for a moment. “Oh,” he finally manages. “I’m terribly sorry, then.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Crowley just shrugs. “Just messing with you. Ask whatever you want. I don’t really care.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale says again, though the embarrassment still lingers. “Well, I guess I was wondering if he’s… the same guy you wanted to bring here.”

Crowley’s brows furrow, and then he laughs. “C’mon, that was like three weeks ago. Keep up with it, angel.”

“How many partners can you even go through in three weeks?” He’s not being judgemental, he’s just genuinely curious and confused. And Crowley must’ve noticed, because he does answer, instead of getting mad.

“Romantic or sexual?”

“There’s… a difference?”

“For me, yeah,” he says. “I haven’t really dated anyone since university started. Pulled plenty of people, though.”

“Okay,” Aziraphale nods, trying to process that information. “Is it because you don’t want to date or...?”

“Let’s say the right opportunity hasn’t presented itself.” Crowley shrugs, pulling his blanket closer to himself. “I mean, I was going on a date today, but the bastard didn’t show up, so…” he trails off. “Maybe that’s for the best anyway. Less messy to keep things casual. No strings and all that.”

“Right,” Aziraphale says, even though he doesn’t fully understand how it can be less messy to sleep with a bunch of people without any attachments.

“What about you?” Crowley asks curiously. “Any partners?”

Aziraphale’s cheeks grow warmer, and he looks away. “I’m afraid not. I can’t say I really had… time for relationships. Ever.”

“Ever?” Crowley asks, eyes widening. “You’re telling me you’ve never dated anyone?”

“Not– not really, no.” Aziraphale shakes his head; he can’t look at Crowley, but feels Crowley’s eyes on him.

“Surely you’ve had sex before, though. Right?”

Aziraphale’s face feels like it’s on fire. His blush must be fully visible to Crowley by now. He doesn’t answer the question, but is sure that he doesn’t really need to. His face must be saying it all.

“You haven’t?” Crowley asks, and the fact that he doesn’t really sound judgemental makes Aziraphale a little less mortified; enough to nod slightly.

“Well, we should change that,” Crowley declares, and Aziraphale’s head snaps up so fast that it makes Crowley burst into laughter. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. But… why not give it a shot by at least putting yourself out there?”

“Putting myself out there?” Aziraphale asks, feeling a bit lost. His cheeks are still a little red. “And how would I do that?”

“There’s a party a friend of mine is hosting this Friday. You should come with me.”

Aziraphale hesitates. He has never been the type to go to parties. He doesn’t really like them. But then again, how would he know? He hasn’t ever been to one. “But I won’t know anyone there,” he points out.

“Even better. You’ll get to meet new people,” Crowley says. “Plus, you’ll know me. I can introduce you to some cool people.”

Aziraphale doesn’t know what makes him decide to agree, but after a brief moment of consideration, he nods. “Okay, then. If you insist.”

…

The party is everything Aziraphale expects, and also not. The house they’ve been invited to is dark and dingy, the lights dimmed to the lowest point without being completely off. The room smells like cigarette smoke and cheap alcohol. Aziraphale already regrets coming here, feeling like he is about to suffocate.

Crowley, true to his word, keeps by his side throughout at least the first half of the party. He even brings Aziraphale a cup of what Aziraphale thinks is beer, but can’t be completely sure.

“Remember, keep an eye on your cup and don’t accept drinks from strangers,” Crowley warns him.

“Not really planning to drink more than this one cup anyway,” Aziraphale points out, to which Crowley rolls his eyes.

“C’mon, angel. Live a little.”

The music is so loud that it hurts Aziraphale’s ears. He doesn’t know what Crowley likes about it. He just keeps to himself, standing in the corner and watching Crowley chat people up with ease, laughing at the things they say.

For a while, he loses sight of Crowley, busy trying to take the rest of the atmosphere in. When he spots him again, he finds him pressed against a wall by some tall, muscular guy. They’re kissing like nobody's watching. Aziraphale averts his gaze, cheeks warming up as if he’s intruding on an intimate moment.

Later on, he notices Crowley slipping upstairs with the guy in tow, and for a moment, anger flashes inside him. How dare Crowley drag him here, to a place that is definitely not his scene, and then leave him alone like this?

He feels even more uncomfortable now that Crowley isn’t around. The unfamiliar environment, the noise, the crowd— they’re all getting on his nerves. He only notices there’s a guy standing in front of him and talking to him when the guy nudges his shoulder.

“What?” he asks, perhaps a bit too harshly.

The guy doesn’t look bothered. “Hey,” he just says casually instead. “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Well, it’s not exactly my idea of fun,” Aziraphale admits, trying to keep his tone patient.

“And what is your idea of fun?”

“Something much… quieter.” Through the dim lighting of the room, Aziraphale tries his best to take a good look at him. He’s a little shorter than Aziraphale, and a little rounder too. He must be around the same age as he is, but Aziraphale can see the warning signs of a receding hairline.

The guy must’ve noticed Aziraphale looking at him, because he flashes a grin, and his golden tooth catches what little light it can. “Sandy,” he says, introducing himself. “And you?”

“Aziraphale.” He gives Sandy a polite smile, even though all he wants to do is leave.

“Aziraphale, huh? Odd name.”

Aziraphale shrugs. “Well, I didn’t choose it myself.”

Sandy laughs at that as if Aziraphale has made some sort of brilliant joke. Then, he leans in. “Say, if this isn’t really your scene, maybe we can get out of here?”

Honestly, the idea of getting out of this place is tempting, but Aziraphale isn’t sure he wants to leave with Sandy, or what that would even entail. “Uh… no, thanks. I’m actually here with someone,” he explains awkwardly. “I’m– well, waiting for him to come back.”

“Shame.” Sandy frowns in disappointment. But then he takes out a pen and paper, and scribbles something down, before handing the small piece of paper to Aziraphale. “My number,” he says, as Aziraphale glances at it. “Just in case. If you ever want to hang out, send me a message.”

And with that, he fades into the crowd.

…

Some time later, Crowley appears beside him like he’s never left. His hair looks disheveled, and his t-shirt is half untucked. “Having fun?” he asks Aziraphale, taking a sip out of the drink in his hand.

“Not really,” Aziraphale says honestly. “You seem like you had your fun, though.”

Crowley smirks. “Glad you noticed.”

Aziraphale suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. “Can we go now? If you’re done here?”

He is expecting more resistance, but instead, Crowley just shrugs and downs the rest of his cup in one go. “Sure. If you want.”

Once they are back at the dorm and Aziraphale’s ears regain the ability to hear properly, he starts relaxing again. That is, until Crowley looks up at him with a grin.

“Well?” Crowley asks.

“What?”

“Y’know. See anyone to your liking?” Crowley raises a brow.

“Not… really.” Aziraphale hadn’t really thought for a second that he’d find someone at a party. He isn’t even sure he wants to find someone. “Although…”

“Although what?” Crowley looks intrigued, attention fully on him now.

“Some guy did give me his number.”

“And...?” Crowley asks, trying to prompt him to reveal more.

Aziraphale shrugs. “And nothing.”

“C’mon. What was he like? Was he hot?”

Aziraphale makes a face.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Crowley laughs. “Will you still call him, though?”

For a moment, Aziraphale considers it. The piece of paper feels like a heavy weight in his pocket. He isn’t sure why he kept the number in the first place. “Probably not.”

“You’re right. You can probably pull a hotter guy,” Crowley says, and Aziraphale’s face flushes. “Or girl. Don’t know if you have a preference.”

“Guy,” Aziraphale says without thinking much. He doesn’t even know what makes it so easy to tell Crowley.

“Right. Thought so, too,” Crowley snickers. “Just didn’t wanna assume.”

“Well, what about you, then?” Aziraphale asks, both to take the attention away from himself and because of genuine curiosity.

“Likewise. Guys.”

“Thought so, too,” Aziraphale repeats Crowley’s words with a grin. “If you were interested in girls, too, I probably would’ve seen you with one at some point. You’re not exactly… covert with your relationships.

Crowley scoffs, but doesn’t deny it. “Touché,” he says instead, with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

…

After that night, Aziraphale strangely finds himself less annoyed by Crowley’s presence. He doesn’t even go to the library to avoid him that often anymore. And Crowley, while he’s not exactly considerate, at least keeps his music a little lower in volume, and smokes his cigarettes outside.

They fall into a sort of rhythm, exchanging friendly words and banter. They even eat breakfast together sometimes, or grab a cup of coffee. If he is completely honest with himself, he is actually starting to find Crowley’s company rather pleasant, when he isn’t being especially annoying.

“I’ll probably be back late tonight,” Crowley tells him as he’s getting ready to leave. Which is another novelty, because until recently, he would just leave without saying anything at all.

“Okay,” Aziraphale says. He never knows what to say to that. “Have fun.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.” Crowley is just done with fixing his hair, and is now putting on some eyeliner.

“Going anywhere special?” Aziraphale asks, looking up from the assignment he’s working on.

“Kind of.” Crowley turns to look at him, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Got a date. We’re going to that pub nearby.”

“A date?” Aziraphale’s brow rises in surprise. “A proper one?”

“Yup,” Crowley says, before going back to putting on his makeup.

Aziraphale doesn’t know why this information makes his chest feel tight, but he smiles anyway. “That’s… exciting.”

“Not really.” Crowley makes a face. “It’s just Fergus. He’s been following me around like a lovesick puppy since the beginning of the semester. Thought I could give him a chance.”

“How… generous of you,” Aziraphale says, even though his tone comes off as more sarcastic than he’s intended. He feels like it’s more cruel than generous. But maybe the guy knows what he’s getting into. Aziraphale is not close enough with Crowley to chastise him about it.

“We’ll see how it goes,” Crowley shrugs, before throwing his leather jacket over his shoulders and shoving his phone into his pocket. “Not like I’m leading him on or anything.”

Aziraphale doesn’t say anything, even though it feels like Crowley would be leading him on.

“Anyway. As I said, don’t wait up for me.” Crowley waves a hand, and he’s out the door.

…

Aziraphale falls asleep long before Crowley comes back, but when he wakes up in the morning, he finds Crowley there, asleep in his bed.

“How was your date last night?” he asks when they’re both up and fully dressed.

“Not bad.” Crowley gives a halfhearted shrug. “Had free booze, so can’t really complain.”

Aziraphale isn’t sure what to make of that, so he just shrugs. “Will you be seeing him again, then?”

Crowley thinks about it for a moment. “I guess,” he says nonchalantly. “Why not, right?”

“Right,” Aziraphale says, even though his heart feels just a little bit heavier.

…

In the weeks after Crowley starts dating Fergus, Aziraphale feels more alone than ever. There isn’t a reason for him to feel that way. Not really. It isn’t as if Crowley used to spend a lot of time in their room anyway. And Aziraphale isn’t sure why he feels the way he does now.

He has seen Fergus a couple of times. And he has to admit, he does look like a lovesick puppy. He isn’t really what Aziraphale would imagine Crowley’s type to be, though. Still, their relationship seems to work. So, who is he to comment on it?

One day, as Crowley is sprawled out on his bed, grinning at something on his phone, Aziraphale can’t help his gaze drifting towards him from time to time.

“Texting with Fergus?” he finally asks, even though he probably shouldn’t. He doesn’t want to know the answer. He keeps his eyes focused on the paper in front of him, feigning disinterest.

Crowley looks up from his phone. “Fergus?”

“You know. Your boyfriend?”

“Oh,” Crowley says in understanding. “That’s old news now. I broke up with him last week.”

“You broke up with him?” Aziraphale repeats, and he hates how hopeful his voice sounds. “Why?”

Crowley shrugs and puts his phone aside in favour of looking at Aziraphale. “Just… wasn’t working, y’know? Figured I’d give him a chance, but wasn’t really having fun. God, he was just so clingy.”

“You didn’t tell me,” Aziraphale says, and hates how his words probably sound just as clingy.

“Because it wasn’t a big deal. Didn’t even think anything of it, honestly.” With that, Crowley is back to his phone, letting out a chuckle at a text he received.

“Well, who are you texting with, then?”

“No one,” Crowley says, but Aziraphale can tell his nonchalance is fake from the faint hint of a blush creeping up his face. “Just– Lucian. Some guy I met at a party. You wouldn’t know him.”

“Some guy.” Aziraphale sounds unconvinced. Crowley rarely ever blushes like that. “You like him.”

“I don’t,” Crowley protests, but his cheeks grow redder. “Fine. He’s– he’s hot, okay? But definitely out of my league.”

“If you say so.” Aziraphale doesn’t press further, but he finds it very hard to believe that anyone could be out of Crowley’s league.

…

A few days after that, Aziraphale wakes up early in the morning with the sound of the door opening and closing. Crowley walks inside, trying not to make too much noise, but grins and walks over to Aziraphale when he sees that he’s awake.

“Guess what?” he whispers, kneeling down next to Aziraphale’s bed. His breath smells faintly of whisky.

“What?” Aziraphale asks, feeling something like dread building up inside him, even though he’s not nearly awake enough.

“We had sex,” Crowley says, his eyes gleaming, and it’s not only because of the alcohol still in his system.

In his sleepy state, it takes a moment for Aziraphale to realise what Crowley is talking about. Then his stomach sinks with realisation. “Oh.”

Crowley grins and nods. “Guess he wasn’t out of my league after all.”

…

Aziraphale doesn’t ask for the details, not wanting to know. He doesn’t need to anyway. Because the way Crowley is constantly on his phone, the way his cheeks flush and he lets out a chuckle says enough.

A bitter resentment for a guy he doesn’t even know starts festering inside Aziraphale.

The first time he sees Lucian is when Lucian stops by their dorm to pick Crowley up. He is even taller than Crowley, which is impressive, since Crowley is already so tall. But while Crowley is slender and lanky, he is all muscle. With his long black hair and tattooed arms, he’s got exactly the ‘bad boy’ look Aziraphale imagines Crowley would find attractive.

It makes Aziraphale dislike him even more.

“Ready to go, darling?” Lucian asks and when his arm wraps around Crowley’s waist, making Crowley blush, Aziraphale realises with a start what this feeling that is bubbling up inside him is.

Jealousy.

The realisation that he likes Crowley hits him like a train. It can’t be. Crowley is annoying and arrogant and loud and brash and– despite all of this, he is actually really charming. And has a softer side under his tough exterior that Aziraphale has only managed to get a few little glimpses of.

This is bad. Really bad. Because Crowley seems to already be head over heels for Lucian, and even if he wasn’t, there is no way he would even think of the quiet, bookworm Aziraphale in that way.

It stings more than Aziraphale wants to admit, but he tries to push the feeling away. It’s just a stupid crush. Crowley is a very attractive person. It’s only natural for Aziraphale to be crushing on him. Surely, it’s nothing more than that.

It can’t be anything more than that.

…

It’s probably a bad idea. A stupid idea, in fact. But he needs to stop thinking about Crowley before it gets worse. And if Crowley is having fun dating people, maybe he can too.

He hesitates for a moment before dialing the number on the piece of paper he fished out of the pocket of his coat. It’s been a while, and maybe the offer to hang out isn’t even on the table anymore, but Aziraphale takes that chance.

It works.

Later that week, he meets Sandy at a café. It’s a little awkward. Aziraphale isn’t used to this, but it’s not the worst thing, and he reminds himself that this doesn’t have to be anything other than a friendly meeting if he doesn’t want it to be.

“What made you decide to ask me out now?” Sandy asks curiously. “I was starting to think you’d never call.”

Aziraphale lets out a nervous laugh. “I’m not sure,” he says, even though he knows precisely why. “I just thought now was the right time. I want to get to know you a little.”

The rest of their meeting goes as well as expected. Their conversation is stilted, and when it’s over, Aziraphale feels drained. Still, he agrees to see Sandy again.

…

Over the next month, he meets with Sandy more, and it slowly starts getting less awkward. It’s not terrible, really, but there’s just something missing. Still, Aziraphale goes on dates with him, thinking that something might eventually click.

And he does feel a bit hypocritical, admittedly, about judging Crowley for dating Fergus without having feelings for him. But he tries not to think about it too hard.

“You’ve been going out a lot more lately,” Crowley observes as they’re hanging out in their dorm.

“How would you know? You’re barely here nowadays,” Aziraphale retorts, and immediately regrets it, because even he can hear the bitterness in his tone.

Crowley raises an eyebrow, but luckily doesn’t say anything. “Thought you didn’t need to go to the library as often anymore,” he just says instead.

“I’m not going to the library.” Aziraphale looks at him, carefully choosing his next words. “There’s a guy. We’ve been hanging out.”

“A guy, huh?” Crowley asks, his expression unreadable. “What’s his name?”

“Sandy. Remember the guy I mentioned? The one who gave me his number at that party you dragged me to?”

“Thought you weren’t going to call him,” Crowley points out, crossing his arms. “What made you change your mind?”

Aziraphale shrugs. He knows he can never tell Crowley the real reason. “You’re the one who keeps telling me to let loose and live a little. Why is it suddenly an issue when I decide to follow your advice?”

“It’s not an issue at all,” Crowley says, but there’s something Aziraphale can’t quite pinpoint in his eyes. “Just thought you didn’t like him.”

“Well, clearly he’s the best I’ve got!” Aziraphale snaps without meaning to. “So can you please just drop it.”

“Fine,” Crowley sighs before getting up from his bed. “Just don’t want you to settle for a guy you don’t even like. You should keep your options open.”

Aziraphale ignores that. “Going somewhere?” he asks instead.

“Yeah. I’m seeing Lucian tonight.”

“Of course you are,” Aziraphale mutters under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Aziraphale tries to smile. “So you two are… together now? Officially, I mean?”

“I guess so,” Crowley says and grins a little. “But don’t mind me. Worry about your own love life.”

Aziraphale isn’t sure he can do that.

…

They start seeing each other less and less. Crowley spends most of his nights out, not coming back until morning. And Aziraphale still spends his time inside, occasionally meeting with Sandy for a cup of coffee, or a walk around the campus.

Sandy isn’t charming in that effortless way Crowley is. He looks like he’s trying too hard. But he’s… fine, Aziraphale supposes. A good enough distraction. And even though it makes him hate himself to think of another person as a simple distraction, he consoles himself by saying he’s technically not doing anything wrong. While Sandy is clearly more interested in Aziraphale than Aziraphale is in him, Aziraphale highly doubts that Sandy’s in love with him.

“So… how are things going with Sandy?” Crowley asks in one of those rare moments when they’re both in the dorm. “Still seeing him?”

“I am.” Aziraphale nods. “And things are… fine.”

“Fine?” Crowley raises a brow. “You don’t sound thrilled. Is that all?”

“I don’t know what else you want me to say.” Aziraphale just shrugs. “We hang out together sometimes. He’s alright.”

“Have you two fucked yet?” Crowley asks, and it is so blunt that Aziraphale almost chokes on his own spit.

“Crowley!” he says, his face getting red.

His reaction makes Crowley laugh. “What? I’m just asking!”

Aziraphale takes a few breaths to compose himself, waiting for the blush in his face to fade away. It doesn’t, though. “Not that it’s any of your business, but if you really want to know, we haven’t,” he says, as calmly as possible.

“No? Why not?”

Aziraphale shrugs, still embarrassed. “I don’t know. I’m just not… really interested.”

“So you’re not even attracted to the guy?” Crowley scoffs. “For fuck’s sake, angel. I don’t know why you even keep dating him. Just put both of you out of your misery.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Aziraphale says, a bit too defensively.

“I guess it’s not. You don’t have to be a dick about it, though. Just trying to be a good friend here.”

Guilt crawls inside Aziraphale. “What about you, then?” He tries changing the subject. “How are things with Lucian? You’re still together, I assume?”

“We are,” Crowley confirms, and Aziraphale’s guilt amplifies as he finds himself wishing they weren’t.

“And?”

“It’s good.” Crowley shrugs, then a teasing grin spreads across his lips. “That’s all you’re getting, angel. I don’t think you can handle details.”

Aziraphale tries to keep his face neutral. His voice is quiet and almost apprehensive when he speaks, a bit too honest. “I don’t think I can either.”

…

While Aziraphale is sitting at his desk, busy studying for the exams, the door suddenly bursts open, and Crowley storms in.

Aziraphale flinches, but turns to look at him. “What’s wrong?” he asks, as Crowley slams the door shut with way more force than necessary.

“That fucking asshole!” Crowley sounds angrier than Aziraphale has ever heard him. “I can’t believe he fucking did that!”

“Who did what?” Aziraphale gets up from his desk, walking tentatively over to Crowley, as if he is approaching a wild beast.

“Fucking Lucian, that’s who!” Crowley spits his name out like a curse. “He– I saw– he’s a fucking bastard. I fucking hate him!”

“Crowley, slow down,” Aziraphale says, more confused than before. “I don’t understand. What did he do?”

“He cheated on me, okay?!” Crowley plops down angrily onto his bed, tossing his sunglasses down. Then, much to Aziraphale’s shock, he buries his face in his hands and starts sobbing.

“Oh, Crowley…” Aziraphale says quietly, placing a reassuring hand on Crowley’s shoulder, though he isn’t sure if it’s doing anything. He’s at a loss for what to do. He’s never seen Crowley cry before. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” Crowley says, trying to wipe away his tears. It’s in vain, as more tears keep falling. His eyes are already red and swollen. “I don’t need your help. I don’t need anything. I don’t fucking care. I’m already halfway over it.”

“It’s okay to be sad,” Aziraphale reminds him gently. “You liked him.”

“I’m not sad!” Crowley snaps. ”I’m just– fucking furious!”

Aziraphale knows the anger is there, but also knows it isn’t just anger. He doesn’t push, not wanting to risk Crowley shutting him out. Instead, he sits down on the bed next to him, holding out his arms.

Crowley hesitates for just a moment before he’s hugging Aziraphale, his face hidden in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, his slender frame shaking with sobs once again.

Aziraphale holds him through it, gently rubbing his back, whispering words of reassurance. He isn’t sure if he’s helping at all, but after a while, Crowley’s sobs dissolve into sniffles and hiccups.

Even after Crowley’s stopped crying, they remain seated on Crowley’s bed, with Crowley’s head resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder, and a blanket over them. They don’t talk, just stay like that in comfortable silence.

When morning comes and Crowley acts like he didn’t break down in Aziraphale’s arms the night before, Aziraphale knows better than to say anything about it.

…

For the next few days, Crowley’s phone keeps buzzing with messages. Aziraphale is proud of Crowley for ignoring them all. He knows Crowley is trying to look tough and unbothered, but he can still see some of the sadness lingering.

When there’s a loud knock at the door, Aziraphale gets up to open it. He’s startled to see Lucian standing there.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, even though he has a pretty good idea.

“Get out of my way,” Lucian snarls. “I’m here to see Crowley.”

Aziraphale stands his ground. “He doesn’t want to see you.”

“Yeah? He told you that?” Lucian’s tone is sarcastic. “Let me in. I want to talk to him.”

“No. Maybe you should’ve thought of that before, you bastard.” With that, he slams the door in Lucian’s face.

Crowley is standing there behind the door when Aziraphale turns around. Aziraphale can see the tears gleaming in his eyes, though he resolutely refuses to let them fall.

“Thanks, angel…” Crowley says, and the smile he gives Aziraphale is warm enough to melt his heart.

…

“Sandy broke up with me,” Aziraphale announces as he walks into the room one day, a few weeks after what they both now refer to as ‘the Lucian incident.’

Crowley looks up at him, his expression full of sympathy as he grimaces. “I’m sorry. You okay? How are you feeling?”

“Like a weight lifted off my shoulders,” Aziraphale says honestly, after thinking about it for a moment.

“Yeah?” Crowley raises a brow. “How did it happen?”

Aziraphale shrugs. “He broke up with me because I didn’t want to sleep with him.” It had been a topic of argument between them for weeks now. Aziraphale doesn’t know why it’s such a big deal to him, why he can’t casually sleep with people like Crowley does. He just knows that he can’t. And Sandy finally had enough of it.

“What a prick,” Crowley mutters. “You’re better off without him.”

“Probably.”

“Y’know, I’m always here if you need anything.”

Aziraphale smiles at him. “I know.”

…

“Y’know what I’ve been thinking?” Crowley asks, long after all of that is behind them. “We should move in together. After university, I mean.”

The suggestion catches Aziraphale off guard. They’ve been friends all throughout their university years now. And as it’s coming to an end, Aziraphale has been worried he would never see Crowley again. “You think so?”

“Yeah. I mean– we’ve already been sharing one small room for years now. We’re used to each other. How bad could it be to share a flat?” Crowley shrugs. “Plus, it’s convenient. I don’t think either of us can afford rent on our own at this point.”

Aziraphale knows he should probably say no. The years did nothing to make his feelings for Crowley fade away into obscurity. In fact, they are stronger than ever before. And the only way to get over it is by putting some distance between himself and Crowley.

But he is weak.

“I think it’d be nice,” he says, and seeing the way Crowley’s eyes light up makes it worth it.

…

The flat they move into is small, and with both of their stuff crammed into it, it feels even smaller.

Crowley doesn’t mind Aziraphale covering every surface available with books, as long as he gets to keep his own room as minimal as he wants. And Aziraphale doesn’t mind Crowley occasionally giving his plants a little bit of tough love.

It’s easy. Comfortable. And as much of a loner as Aziraphale is, it’s nice to have someone to come home to.

He tries to ignore how Crowley brings home guys some nights. Ignores the sounds of them from the room next to his. Neither of them have had a serious relationship since they moved in together, but Crowley still has his one-night stands.

Aziraphale does his best to pretend like he doesn’t notice. Like he doesn’t care. He doesn’t ever bring it up, not even to tease him. Crowley will never know the way his heart breaks just a little more with every laugh and every moan from the next room.

…

Even long after they no longer have to live together due to financial necessity, neither of them move out, or even suggest it.

They both have jobs now. Crowley works in marketing, and even though it’s not Aziraphale’s dream job by any means, he earns enough as an accountant at a real estate agency. It pays the bills, and he is not complaining. He’s got a stable life now, and is more or less content with it.

That stability comes crashing down when he meets someone.

Judging from his American accent and general confusion, Aziraphale understands he’s not from around here. He asks Aziraphale directions, and Aziraphale provides them, not really thinking much about the encounter.

A few days later, though, when he stops by a café near their flat, he runs into the man again in the queue.

“Hey,” the man says, flashing him a bright smile. “I remember you. You’re the guy who gave me directions to the bus stop the other day. Nice to see a familiar face.”

They fall into polite small talk after that. Aziraphale learns he came here for a few months on business.

“Gabriel,” the man introduces himself, and shakes Aziraphale’s hand when Aziraphale does the same. “You come here often?”

“Sometimes. It’s a nice place to wind down after work,” Aziraphale says. Gabriel is tall, admittedly good-looking, and exudes confidence, even when in an unfamiliar place.

“Maybe I’ll see you around, then.” Gabriel gives him a wink, before he exits with his coffee in hand, leaving Aziraphale unsure of what to think.

…

He doesn't know if it's on purpose on Gabriel's part or not, but he does run into Gabriel a few more times over the following weeks.

His presence can be a bit overwhelming sometimes, and he's always in charge of the conversation, but Aziraphale finds he doesn't actually mind his company.

It takes him by surprise to realise he's starting to develop feelings for Gabriel. It's not like what he feels for Crowley, not as overwhelming and consuming, but there's definitely something there.

And he thinks that if he allows himself to explore it, maybe it can turn out to be something good.

…

“I met someone,” he tells Crowley one day, as they're lounging on the sofa in their lounge, sharing a bottle of wine.

“You did? When?”

Aziraphale tells him everything, and Crowley listens with keen interest. When Aziraphale’s finished, there's a strange sort of distant look in Crowley's amber eyes.

“And you like him, then?”

Aziraphale considers it, evaluating his feelings for a few moments before nodding slowly. “I think I do.”

“Happy for you, angel.” Crowley smiles, but there's something off about it. He downs the rest of his glass and stands up.

“Where are you going?”

“Think I'm gonna turn in early tonight,” Crowley says, casual. “I’m knackered.”

…

When Gabriel asks him out on a date, Aziraphale only hesitates a little before accepting. It'll be good, he thinks. Maybe this is exactly what he needs.

The restaurant they go to is a fancy one. Fancier than Aziraphale could probably afford at this point in his life, even with his stable, decently-paying job.

But Gabriel works in finance, so Aziraphale thinks it makes sense that he is rather well-off. Or maybe he's just trying to impress him on their first date.

The night goes well, and Aziraphale finds himself more drawn to Gabriel than he was at the beginning of it.

He is charming, in his own way. So different from the impulsive, rebellious Crowley he's grown to adore over the years. But he offers a sort of stability, a reliability Aziraphale thinks he could depend on.

And maybe that's enough. If he can never have Crowley, then why should he spend his life forever hung up on him?

…

“How are things with the American bloke?” Crowley asks casually, some time after Aziraphale has made things official with Gabriel.

“For the last time, his name is Gabriel,” Aziraphale huffs, but there's no heat behind his words.

“Whatever.” Crowley rolls his eyes. “So. Still dating him, then?”

“Of course I'm still dating him. Why wouldn't I be?”

“Dunno.” Crowley shrugs. “Never thought some big shot American would be your type.”

“What do you even know about my type?”

“Nothing.” Crowley is looking at him with interest now. “What is your type anyway? You've never told me.”

“Some big shot American, apparently,” Aziraphale says with a sarcastic tone, trying to dodge the question.

“Ha ha.” Crowley’s expression is far from entertained. “Just… don’t get too attached, yeah? I don’t want you to get your heart broken.”

Aziraphale thinks it might be a little too late for that.

…

The next few months go by in a bit of a blur. Crowley is present in his life, but with the frequent hours spent with Gabriel, he falls to the background more than he ever has before.

Maybe that’s a good thing.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Gabriel says, as they’re laying in bed in his flat one night.

Aziraphale’s heart skips a beat, unsure if it’s good news or bad news. “What is it?” he asks, a little hesitantly.

“My work here is done. I’m moving back to D.C. by the end of the month.”

Aziraphale’s stomach drops.

…

Crowley realises something is off the moment Aziraphale walks into their flat the next morning, because he’s immediately up on his feet, walking over to Aziraphale with a concerned look on his face.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Then, his expression shifts. “Is it Gabriel? If he upset you, I swear I will punch his stupid American face–“

“Crowley,” Aziraphale cuts him off. “Gabriel is moving back to the States.”

“Fucking bastard,” Crowley mutters under his breath. “Who does he think he is? Getting you all attached to him and then–“ He shakes his head. “You’ll be better without him. What do you need? Movies? Dinner? A shoulder to cry on while I try not to say ‘I told you so’ ?”

“Crowley. Let me finish.”

Crowley falls silent, and looks at Aziraphale expectantly. “Go on, then.”

“Gabriel is moving back to the States,” Aziraphale repeats, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “And he asked me to go with him.”

Crowley freezes for a moment, expression unreadable. Then, he laughs. Nervous. Brittle. “And of course you said no.” He pauses, eyes searching Aziraphale’s expression for an answer. “You said no… right?”

Aziraphale shakes his head.

He isn’t sure why he agreed to it, really. He’s got his life all figured out here, and it would be reckless to throw it all away. But maybe that's what he needs. He needs to get away. Because being torn between Gabriel and Crowley is exhausting.

He just never thought he’d choose Gabriel.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Crowley’s face contorts in anger and disbelief. “You’ve got a life here. How can you throw it all away for some bloke you just met a few months ago?! This isn’t like you at all.”

“Please,” Aziraphale says, trying to keep his emotions under control, to not let Crowley see how much he is actually feeling. “My life here… it’s not good, Crowley. You know how much I hate accounting.”

“Well, then change your fucking job!” Crowley says, pacing the room now, sunglasses back on his face. “Don’t move across the bloody planet! What are you even going to do there? Be the pretty housewife of that rich asshole?”

“Crowley…” he says, trying to make him see reason. “It’s not like that. Gabriel says there are plenty of job opportunities there. Maybe I can even open my own bookshop like I’ve always wanted.”

Crowley scoffs, turning to look at him again. “So, is that it, huh? You getting swept up in some stupid American dream? Well, have a good rest of your life, then.” He grabs his jacket and makes for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Out,” Crowley says, and his voice is colder than Aziraphale has ever heard it. “Don’t bother waiting for me.”

…

The first month after Aziraphale leaves is the worst. Even though his stuff is gone, Crowley sees Aziraphale everywhere in the flat. He wakes up every morning expecting to find Aziraphale sitting at the table, sipping his cocoa with his nose buried in a book.

Every time, his heart is crushed again.

He hates Aziraphale for leaving their life together, for leaving him as if their friendship didn’t mean a single thing at all.

He fucking hates him. Doesn’t want to see his stupid, angelic face ever again. But he also still loves him.

And he hates himself even more for that.

He should’ve told Aziraphale while he still had the chance. But he was a coward. Still is, really. Aziraphale is way too good, way too kind and perfect. He is everything Crowley isn’t. He knows there’s no way Aziraphale would ever feel that way about him.

And he was proven right, after all.

So, Crowley tries to forget. He takes time off from his job, drinks until he passes out, has a bunch of meaningless hook-ups, trying to forget, trying to fill a void as he has always done.

But that void is still there. And he isn’t sure it will ever close.

…

It gets easier over time. The pain becomes duller and duller with each passing month. And even though there will always be a part of Crowley that misses Aziraphale, misses his smile, misses his voice, misses the companionship they shared, after years, Aziraphale becomes a distant memory.

A memory he looks back on with fondness, but also with pain.

He’s waiting at the bus stop one day, cursing himself for forgetting his umbrella. As he tries to stay under cover to avoid getting wet, the bus comes to a halt in front of him.

And a face he never thought he’d see again gets out of it.

He hasn’t changed a bit. Still has the same curly blond hair and adorable, cherubic face. He is just a little older now, more weary, the lines on his face harsher and more prominent.

“Aziraphale?” The name leaves his mouth without him even realising, and Aziraphale turns his head to look at him.

There is no way Aziraphale will recognise him, he thinks. He looks so different now. There’s a tattoo of a snake crawling up his right arm, and his hair is past his shoulders. He’s lost weight, even more scrawny than he was when Aziraphale last saw him. Even his clothes don’t look the same, a long skirt where tight jeans used to be. His face is sunken, lips turned downwards.

And yet, despite all the odds, Aziraphale’s face lights up in recognition.

“Crowley!”

Aziraphale walks over to him, and Crowley isn’t sure whether he should go for a handshake or a hug. One feels too formal, and the other feels too intimate.

“Hey,” he says instead, waving awkwardly. “Thought I'd never see you around here again.” He watches the bus leave, but he doesn't care.

“Well, it's been a long time, hasn't it?” Aziraphale chuckles nervously. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee? Maybe we can catch up?”

Despite all the anger that has been festering inside him all these years, the moment he sees Aziraphale, it all vanishes. Only the hurt still remains. “Sure,” he says, and it comes easily.

Aziraphale smiles at him and opens his umbrella, letting Crowley take shelter under it.

…

“So, you're back permanently, then?” Crowley asks when they're seated at a nearby cafe, trying to keep his hopeful tone in check.

“I am,” Aziraphale nods. “America… didn't work out.”

“Neither did Gabriel, I'm assuming?” He doesn’t dare to hope, but can't help it. He feels so stupid that all those old feelings have come springing back.

Aziraphale grimaces. “We broke up. You were right after all. We weren't good for each other. He was… too much.”

“How long have you been back?”

“It's been a few months,” Aziraphale says, and smiles a little. “Finally opened that bookshop now. It's in Soho. You should drop by sometime. If you want to.”

Crowley smiles despite himself. “I'd love to.”

…

It's only a week later that Crowley goes to the address Aziraphale gave him. It's a small shop, but it's so unmistakably Aziraphale, smelling like old books and his sweet cologne.

Crowley's heart flutters in his chest.

“You've got an impressive place here,” he says, smiling. It's after closing, and they're sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine. It feels exactly like the old days.

After some small talk, Aziraphale looks at him. Really looks at him. “And how have you been?

Crowley doesn't know what makes him say it. Maybe it's the wine, or maybe it's the fact that he is tired of keeping things bottled up, of keeping secrets. “Fucking miserable, really.”

Aziraphale gives him a guilty but encouraging look, and Crowley keeps talking.

“You just– you just left me, Aziraphale, just like that. Like I didn't mean anything. Like our friendship didn't mean anything. Like you didn't give a damn about what I felt.”

Aziraphale looks away, eyes focused on the wine swirling in his glass. “I’m sorry…” he says softly. “I didn't think. I wasn't thinking straight.”

“Right. Too caught up in some fancy American guy,” Crowley scoffs. The next words come out in almost a whisper, to the point that he isn't even sure he's said it out loud. “I loved you, you know…”

He doesn't even regret saying it. He's already lost Aziraphale once. What's the worst that can happen?

When no answer comes, he dares to sneak a glance in Aziraphale's direction, finding him frozen and utterly in shock.

“Crowley…” he says, and laughs, shaking his head. Crowley gets ready to leave, but Aziraphale speaks before he can. “I didn't go to America because of Gabriel. Not entirely. I went because I needed to get away. From my feelings for you .”

This time, it's Crowley who freezes.

“I think I've loved you since university,” Aziraphale admits sheepishly. “I just… never thought you would feel the same way.”

“And do you still?” Crowley asks impulsively. Stupidly. “Love me, I mean?” He immediately wishes he could take it back.

Aziraphale blushes, but doesn't avert his gaze this time. “I think I do.”

“Angel…” Crowley says, and the old nickname feels familiar, intimate. He is only now realising how close they're sitting on the sofa, legs almost touching. “May I kiss you?”

Aziraphale doesn't answer. Instead, he just leans in and closes the distance between them.

It's soft and hesitant, unlike the passionate, rough kisses Crowley is used to. But somehow, it's even better. It's over before he even has the chance to savour it, and yet, his heart beats loudly against his ribs.

He doesn't know how everything will go after this, but for the first time in a long time, he has something to look forward to.

…

Almost a year after their reunion, Crowley is sitting yet again on the sofa in their bookshop. His head is against Aziraphale's shoulder, and they're cuddled up under blankets. He is listening to Aziraphale's calming voice as he reads out loud to him.

They've been such idiots to waste all these years, he thinks.

But it doesn't matter. Now, they finally have each other, and there are many years ahead of them.

Comments

Sweet

[holrose]

This is such a sweet AU, you do so much here. I loved it when they got back together again after the heartbreak. So lovely.

[scullyphile]

But when he keeps being bothered by the boy behind him throughout the remainder of the class, he starts to think that Crowley just likes being a menace.

He sure does! You've very much captured their characters and converted them well into teens.

Detention? Aziraphale’s heart freezes. He has never got detention before in his life. His record has been immaculate. And now it’s ruined, all because of this stupid boy. He glares at Crowley, not knowing how he’s going to explain this to his father.

Oh man, Crowley is over here getting him into trouble. That's no good...

Crowley is there, on his bed. But he’s not alone. There’s another man with him. They’re both almost completely naked, and the man’s hand is tangled in Crowley’s hair. Aziraphale can pinpoint the exact moment he pulls, because a low whine makes its way out of Crowley’s throat, and it’s a sound Aziraphale won’t be able to forget no matter how much he tries.

Awkward! The way Aziraphale is simply staring at them. Puts all sorts of ideas in his head.

Crowley, true to his word, keeps by his side throughout at least the first half of the party. He even brings Aziraphale a cup of what Aziraphale thinks is beer, but can’t be completely sure.

“Remember, keep an eye on your cup and don’t accept drinks from strangers,” Crowley warns him.

I love how he does stay with him at first and warns him about leaving his drink unattended. A phone number from Sandy! Sandy wishes he could win Aziraphale's heart!

When morning comes and Crowley acts like he didn’t break down in Aziraphale’s arms the night before, Aziraphale knows better than to say anything about it.

The way Aziraphale takes care of him during the break up! It's wonderful. Really cements their bond.

Than they move in together! These two nerds. Basically building their whole life around each other except for the sex. I can see why Aziraphale thinks he has to get away from Crowley since Crowley doesn't show any feelings for him. Even though he has them! The absolute walnut.

I wasn't expecting a shift to Crowley POV, but I'm not mad about it.

He should’ve told Aziraphale while he still had the chance. But he was a coward. Still is, really. Aziraphale is way too good, way too kind and perfect. He is everything Crowley isn’t. He knows there’s no way Aziraphale would ever feel that way about him.

Gah! How depressed Crowley is without Aziraphale. I'm glad they find each other again. I really like the love confession. Crowley just says fuck it, and whispers the truth.

“And do you still?” Crowley asks impulsively. Stupidly. “Love me, I mean?” He immediately wishes he could take it back.

Aziraphale blushes, but doesn't avert his gaze this time. “I think I do.”

Awww! Thank you so much! It's lovely! 🩵🩵🩵

[(Anonymous)]

Kudos!