Happy Holidays, hapaxnym!
Jan. 7th, 2025 05:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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go_exchangeRating: Mature
Summary:
“You better have a really good explanation for this,” Gabriel crossed his arms. “This looks a lot like corporate espionage to me.”
Before Aziraphale could take a moment to think through the pros and cons of shutting his mouth, he found himself already saying the first believable lie that came to his mind.
“It is not. We’re on a lunch date,” Aziraphale said, reaching out to take Crowley’s hand in his. “I didn’t know how to tell you. We’re engaged to be married.”
”It’s a bad idea to meet so openly, my dear,” Aziraphale said as he took a seat in the little restaurant in Mayfair. Crowley had tempted him with crepes and information, two things he knew Aziraphale found difficult to resist, so after some persuasion Aziraphale had agreed to meet him.
“Who do you think is going to spot us here?” Crowley waved his hand dismissively.
“Let me think,” Aziraphale answered. “Anyone from work, mine or yours? Should I remind you that we’re in central London and both headquarters of said companies are in central London too?”
“Relax, angel,” Crowley grinned. “You worry too much.”
“Maybe you worry too little,” Aziraphale said, but picked up a menu to choose from the various delicious crepe options.
Explaining their whole shared history would have been difficult, because it went back for over three decades to the time when they were both just toddlers. Growing up on opposite sides of a family rivalry resembling that of the Montagues and the Capulets had been interesting to say the least. When Aziraphale had begun to grasp concepts like capitalism and economic growth, he had learned that the feud between the families wasn’t anything personal or political, but a mere rivalry between the two family-owned companies fighting for customers.
However, the most important moments were etched on his memory.
When Aziraphale had been four, he had started pre-school to get some social skills after having been taught by a private nanny for a few years. On his first day he had met a red-haired boy.
“Hello. I’m Aziraphale,” he had introduced himself to the boy who had been building something from the toy blocks on the floor.
“Nice to meet you,” the boy said and Aziraphale sat next to him to look at what he was doing. The boy had said his parents called him Anthony, but he wasn’t sure he liked the name much. That first day they had played together, and Aziraphale had been fairly sure he had just got his first friend outside his family. When he talked about his friend at home, his parents had been less than thrilled though, and after a series of events that Aziraphale didn’t understand, he hadn’t gone to the same preschool with Anthony anymore.
They had met again during their teenage years, because all of the academically advanced kids from rich families eventually ended up spending a lot of time together. They kept running to each other at academic competitions and other events, and at some point Aziraphale decided that he still enjoyed Crowley’s company even though he wasn’t stupid enough to say that out loud anymore.
They were enemies for sure, but being enemies for so long made them almost like friends. Which was why it wasn’t all that surprising when Crowley contacted him to talk about business after they had both graduated from university and gone to work for their respective family companies.
“I have a proposition,” Crowley had said from across the café table. “As you know, I work in marketing, and I have looked at some numbers.”
“Oh?” Aziraphale stirred at his tea. “Pray tell?”
Aziraphale worked in customer relations, which did involve some numbers too, but his specific position was more about talking to people and making sure all their customers remained happy.
“I’ve noticed that when your company does a particularly well-planned marketing campaign, it also raises our sales.”
Aziraphale raised his eyebrows.
“Is that so?”
“Yep. I would assume that if you looked at your company’s numbers from the last decade or so, you would notice the same. All the publicity for one of us is publicity for both of us, right?” Crowley explained.
“Uh-huh. What are you saying?” Aziraphale asked suspiciously.
“I’m suggesting an… arrangement of a kind. Nothing that can be traced back to us. Just some… sharing of notes about when you’re about to launch a new campaign to schedule them so they won’t overlap. We both get publicity and advertisement from all of them, so it doesn’t make sense for us to schedule them at the same time,” Crowley continued.
Aziraphale pondered the suggestion.
“That would make sense,” Aziraphale said. “Can I get a few days to ask for some numbers from our marketing team?”
“Take all the time you want,” Crowley said.
A week later Aziraphale had called Crowley.
“Alright, what you said seems to check out,” Aziraphale said. “I don’t want to share any confidential information or sell any of it to an outsider, but we could take a look at how the marketing schedules line up and make some… adjustments to them.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to do anything immoral or illegal,” Crowley said. “I always knew you were a regular angel about bending the rules.”
That was how their Arrangement first began. Now, a bit over a decade later, they met regularly to discuss business and sometimes ended up talking about other things. Crowley was interesting, attractive, and intelligent, and Aziraphale knew him better than possibly anyone else.
“Why did you want to meet me today?” Aziraphale asked when he wiped his mouth clean from the last bite of his main course. He was eyeing at the dessert menu and Crowley pushed it towards him.
“What? Isn’t my charming company enough for you?” Crowley asked.
“I know you have a hidden agenda every time you tempt me to meet you,” Aziraphale said.
“Spoilsport,” Crowley whined, but pulled out a thin, black file with Gehenna International printed on top of it. “We’re planning a new campaign you might find interesting.”
Raising his eyebrows, Aziraphale took the file and began to flip through the pages.
“Aha, you’re finally going to attack the competition directly?” Aziraphale asked.
“It’s not direct if we never mention Paradise by name,” Crowley grinned.
“But it’s still directed at us?”
“Naturally.”
The drafts for the adverts were full of mentions about being “the best in the market according to research” and “cheaper than the competition” with some references to market reports. Both Aziraphale and Crowley knew full well that they were evenly rated in most of those studies, so cherry-picking those that had favoured Gehenna was a little bit of a low blow.
“Interesting,” Aziraphale said, closing the file and placing it back on the table between them. “I should let our marketing team know. You should expect surprises from our next campaign.”
Crowley shrugged and grinned.
“Bring it on.”
“Do you want coffee? I could have some dessert,” Aziraphale said.
“Large espresso, please. Six shots.”
When Aziraphale got another crepe, a sweet dessert one with fresh strawberries, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce, in front of him and Crowley had his coffee, they kept on discussing other things in life. He was in no hurry to return to his stuffy office from his lunch. So invested was he in his conversation with Crowley that he forgot to pay attention to his surroundings until a sharp cough pulled him out of his focus.
Aziraphale felt dizzy. In front of him was standing Gabriel, the CEO of Heavenly Paradise Worldwide, who incidentally was also Aziraphale’s brother. Somehow Aziraphale had enough active brain cells left to use the sleight of hand skills he had learned as an amateur magician in his youth to remove the Gehenna file from the table while Gabriel was busy glaring at Crowley.
“You better have a really good explanation for this,” Gabriel crossed his arms. “This looks a lot like corporate espionage to me.”
Before Aziraphale could take a moment to think through the pros and cons of shutting his mouth, he found himself already speaking.
“It is not. We’re on a lunch date,” Aziraphale said, reaching out to take Crowley’s hand in his. “I didn’t know how to tell you. We’re engaged to be married.”
All the nerves in Crowley’s brain had suffered an unexpected error and needed to be rebooted. Slowly he began to register Aziraphale’s warm hand holding his, Aziraphale speaking words to Gabriel that made no sense, and that the file full of Crowley’s workplace secrets had disappeared from the table as if by magic.
One clear message was transporting around Crowley’s head over and over again, and it seemed to have taken over all his higher brain functions. Aziraphale had said they were engaged. That they were in a relationship.
Crowley began to realise that he probably should do something to confirm the news. Nod or speak or smirk knowingly at Gabriel. Just because he’d had a tiny bit of a crush on Aziraphale since they were bloody teenagers, was no reason for his brain to stop all of its higher functions. (At the moment the mating part of his primal instincts was taking quite a lot of space from the other ones.) He should say something.
“Ngk,” Crowley said and Aziraphale raised his eyebrow at him.
“How long has this been going on?” Gabriel demanded.
“How long has it been now, love? About two years?” Aziraphale looked at Crowley and his eyes were warning Crowley to say something intelligent or else.
“Yeah, about that,” Crowley said. “We met at an event, ended up spending the night in the same group, started talking, and well,” Crowley shrugged his shoulders, and this time managed to give Gabriel a smirk. “Things happened.”
“My dear, no innuendos in front of my family, please,” Aziraphale mumbled.
“Just because your mind ends up right in the gutter doesn’t mean I’m making an innuendo, angel,” Crowley shot back. To make their bickering seem more flirty than argumentative, he brought Aziraphale’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles softly. Aziraphale looked alarmed and flushed at the intimate touch.
“Right,” Gabriel said. “In that case, I suppose we should make some arrangements to introduce your fiancé to the family.”
“What do you mean?” Aziraphale asked.
“If he’s going to be part of the family, I would think he should meet everyone. Surely, you’re planning to meet his family at some point too?” Gabriel frowned. “Also aren’t you both attending the conference next month? I will be canceling Aziraphale’s hotel room reservation. No reason to pay extra when you can share one.”
“Oh,” Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Of course.”
“I will leave you to it,” Gabriel said. “See you after lunch, Aziraphale.”
The angel looked relieved, but Crowley felt another wave of panic rise inside himself.
“That went better than I…” Aziraphale began, but stopped when he saw Crowley’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“Angel, did you hear any of what he said?” Crowley asked.
“Yes, he was convinced that we’re an item, and we don’t…” Aziraphale said and then his face turned into a mask of horror.
“Now the penny drops,” Crowley said. “He’s going to tell your whole family about this. He’s going to tell my family about this. We better start getting some details straight if we want to survive this. And possibly start planning our eventual break-up too.”
“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I panicked and it was the first thing that popped into my mind.”
“It’s fine, angel,” Crowley said. “Not your fault. Sorry for not taking your worries about being seen seriously.”
“I forgive you, my dear,” Aziraphale said, smiling. “Now. How will we make everyone believe that we’re in love?”
That’s going to be the easy part, angel, Crowley thought but didn’t say. The hard part is not falling in love with you and letting you go at the end of this scheme.
For the rest of the week, anywhere Aziraphale went, he heard well-wishes. Some of his co-workers glared at him, while the owner of his local café, Nina, gave him warm congratulations.
“How did you hear about it?” Aziraphale asked.
“Well, Maggie was talking to some people who had heard it from somewhere else,” Nina said. “I always thought you and Mr. Crowley make a cute couple.”
“He would resent the Mr. part,” Aziraphale muttered. “We’re friends, Nina. You can stop being so formal.”
“When’s the wedding?” Nina asked.
“Umm, we haven’t decided yet,” Aziraphale muttered, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.
On Thursday, Crowley called him.
“What are you doing this Sunday, angel?”
“Nothing to my knowledge?” Aziraphale said.
“Well, you’re invited to join our family dinner,” Crowley said. “Just as a warning. They will try to test you.”
“That sounds worrying,” Aziraphale said. “What does that mean exactly?”
“They’re intense, angel,” Crowley said. “Expect everything from waterboarding to witch-burning.”
“…right,” Aziraphale groaned. “Sounds fun. How has your week been so far?”
“Awful. My friend Anathema wants to meet you too by the way,” Crowley said. “She’s not likely to burn you as a witch because of her family history, but I won’t put some heavy interrogation methods past her.”
“Alright,” Aziraphale said. “You didn’t tell her we’re just faking it?”
“Nah, I thought it would make it easier to pretend if we’re the only ones in the know.”
Somehow the way Crowley said the word pretend made something heavy and sad land in Aziraphale’s stomach.
Crowley was nervously drumming his fingers on the table. Hastur, Ligur, and Beelzebub weren’t actually waterboarding Aziraphale, but they could have given lessons to the witch trial judges. Somehow the angel was still smiling, and there was a fascinating (and amazingly hot) fire burning in his eyes every time he answered a personal question or sidestepped an overly intrusive one.
“No,” Aziraphale said. “I won’t share anything about Paradise’s business plans with you. I will have you know that has nothing to do with my relationship with Crowley.”
“What about your sex life, hmmh?” Shax shot from the sidelines. Crowley should have expected as much from her. She wasn’t embarrassed to share intimate details openly and liked to use people’s insecurities about sex against them. “You don’t seem like his type at all, and I doubt you’re enough to satisfy him.”
Crowley was about to protest, when Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and turned his gaze towards Crowley to give him a wink.
“That is between me and my fiancé, thank you very much. You will never find out how satisfactory our sex life is.”
The pictures in Crowley’s mind were vivid, full-colour, and in 4K sharpness, and he put his face in his hands to hide the blush. When he raised his head again, his family members were giving him almost impressed looks.
“I think you could’ve chosen worse,” Beelzebub nodded their head towards Aziraphale. “I can see what you see in him.”
Crowley was almost painfully turned on by how well Aziraphale had handled tonight when they left.
“That went better than I expected,” Crowley mumbled when he drove Aziraphale home. “They almost never approve of anyone’s dates on the first try. Actually, some of the dates have left the house in tears.”
“Oh please,” Aziraphale said. “Do you think my family has never interrogated me? You should prepare for when the roles will be reversed.”
That time followed in a couple of weeks. While Crowley’s family had tried to find anything soft or weak in Aziraphale, Aziraphale’s family was focusing on finding cracks in Crowley's morals or what virtues he lacked. Aziraphale knew Crowley, and knew he was a good person, but still he found the situation nerve-wracking. Everything Crowley did or said would reflect on him as well, and Crowley would feel bad if he put Aziraphale in trouble.
“What about alcohol use?” Michael asked. “I understand a lot of people in marketing are heavy drinkers.”
“I’ll have a glass of wine sometimes,” Crowley shrugged. “Nothing outrageous.”
Aziraphale’s mouth twitched. One or two times their business meetings had ended with them finishing several bottles of wine together and unable to form clear words. Biting his lip, he tried not to give away that he personally knew Crowley’s definition of nothing outrageous.
“What about your views on public displays of affection?” Uriel asked. “I know our Aziraphale here can be very affectionate.”
“True,” Gabriel said. “You haven’t even kissed this whole time you’ve been over.”
Aziraphale gave Crowley a questioning look.
“You want me to sample the goods in front of spectators?” Crowley asked.
“It's alright, dear,” Aziraphale said and got up. Crowley rose from his seat and came round the table in front of him. He was wearing his shades and Aziraphale wished he could have removed them for their first kiss, but he knew Crowley wanted to keep them on for some privacy.
Softly, Aziraphale touched Crowley’s hair before reaching up to breathe the same air with him. He was aware of all the eyes on them.
When their lips met, Aziraphale forgot all about the audience.
Fuck, the angel’s mouth was soft and hard at the same time against Crowley’s lips. Crowley’s hands had slid on Aziraphale’s back, and Aziraphale’s fingers were running through his hair. It was hard to keep it decent for the onlookers and not push for a deeper kiss. Aziraphale’s muscles were vibrating under Crowley’s hands, as if he too was trying to hold back.
When they pulled apart, Crowley’s whole world had turned upside down.
“Well,” Gabriel cleared his throat.
“They got chemistry,” Michael said.
“Can I be the person of honour at your wedding?” Muriel asked.
Aziraphale and Crowley shared a look.
“I was thinking,” Aziraphale asked when they had settled into his little book-filled flat with the intention of planning their eventual break-up. They had excellent red wine in their glasses after already finishing one bottle. “We should work on the displays of affection more.”
“Wha?” Crowley asked. All the words Aziraphale had said were English, but Crowley was sure he must have misheard.
“Kissing, touching. We don’t do that enough,” Aziraphale explained. Of course they didn’t. Crowley was sure he would never stop doing it if he got used to the habit, and even now he had to remind himself that this was all to pretend. Aziraphale wasn’t really interested in him.
“Okay?” Crowley hesitated. “But it’s still only for a few weeks more. We agreed to have a big, public disagreement at the conference and then tell everyone it’s over, right?”
“Yes, but we will be observed by many people at the conference,” Aziraphale said. “They will get suspicious if we never touch.”
“We could pretend that we’ve already had a fight and are tense with each other when we arrive?” Crowley said. His drunk mind couldn’t handle the risk of getting too addicted to the angel’s kisses when there was a scheduled end date.
And then he also would need to stop seeing Aziraphale one-on-one, because them meeting alone after their ‘break up’ would raise even more uncomfortable questions.
The thought made his heart ache and the wine twist painfully inside him.
“What would be fun in that?” Aziraphale said. “I would like to talk to you during the event.”
“But we don’t need to be overly affectionate either,” Crowley said.
Aziraphale felt offended. Maybe he wasn’t the most desirable partner, he was a little fussy and stubborn, but he didn’t think Crowley would find him unattractive enough to keep his distance like that. Their first kiss had been very good for Aziraphale, and he had hoped Crowley shared the sentiment.
“Oh, I don’t want to push,” Aziraphale said. “I know you don’t find me attractive like that…”
In a second Crowley had moved to sit right next to him.
“That’s not it, angel,” Crowley said.
“But you don’t want to kiss me,” Aziraphale said. “It’s alright, we will just have to…”
Aziraphale’s words were swallowed by Crowley’s mouth. Crowley had yanked him from his jacket lapels to a deep kiss that Aziraphale could feel all the way to his toes. He tried to decide where to place his hands, which ended up in him holding on to Crowley’s back and shoulders.
“Don’t speak such rubbish, angel,” Crowley growled after he had let go of Aziraphale. “I just think we shouldn’t get too used to doing this when it’s eventually coming to an end.”
“Ah,” Aziraphale tried to get his thoughts back in order. He wanted to push Crowley down onto the sofa and devour him. It was a silly thought, and he had to remind himself that Crowley didn’t feel like that for him.
“We should do some stuff together,” Crowley said. “Date stuff. When others ask us what we like to do together, we should have some answers.”
“We know we both like walking in parks. And nice restaurants,” Aziraphale pondered. “Do you enjoy theatre?”
“Yeah,” Crowley said. “Nothing too gloomy though. I like fun ones better.”
“Excellent,” Aziraphale clapped his hands. “I could try to get us some tickets for a show. Maybe even a musical.”
“Sounds great. Now that’s settled, do you have any ideas about which of us should do the breaking up?” Crowley took his wine glass back in hand.
“So who’s going to be your person of honour? Best man? Woman? Whatever gender they happen to be,” Anathema grilled Crowley with Aziraphale sitting next to him looking alarmed.
“Uh, I think my cousin Muriel wanted to be mine,” Aziraphale said.
“Awesome. I’m volunteering for Crowley’s,” she grinned. “I plan the best bachelor parties.”
Crowley and Aziraphale shared a look. Maybe being interviewed by Anathema was worse than meeting either of their families, because Anathema could read Crowley like a book. She was also more insightful than any of the other people they’d spoken about their ‘relationship’, although dating Newt had calmed down her need to control every situation.
“We aren’t planning for a wedding yet, so simmer down,” Crowley said.
“But it’s happening,” Anathema smiled widely. “I can see it from both of you.”
Crowley wanted to ask what she saw from Aziraphale, but he didn’t.
Aziraphale put his luggage on the one queen sized bed in the hotel room and glanced at Crowley. It was just for two nights. Surely they could handle sharing the bed for that long. On the third day at breakfast they would have their disagreement and then tell everyone they were going to go their separate ways. It was a shame really. Aziraphale had really liked Anathema and Newt, and he had a feeling ending the pretend engagement with Crowley was going to take other things from Aziraphale too.
The next two days were going to be filled with stakeholder meetings, speeches from experts, and workshops for sharing ideas. Aziraphale’s time with Crowley would be limited between the scheduled sessions, which was a shame. He had really enjoyed spending more time with Crowley during the last month or so.
“When is your first scheduled program?” Aziraphale asked.
“After lunch,” Crowley said.
“Ah, mine too,” Aziraphale said. “Would you like to have one more lunch with me, my dear fiancé?” Aziraphale teased.
“I could do that,” Crowley smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
In the restaurant, Crowley ran into several of his business acquaintances, and every time he had to introduce Aziraphale to them as his fiancé, he wanted to scream. It would have been so nice if it was true. If he was really about to marry Aziraphale, he would gladly have boasted about it to strangers on the streets.
But in two days it would come to an end.
When Aziraphale left for his first meeting, he gave Crowley a kiss on the cheek and told him ‘to have a good day, dear.’
The kiss burned like fire, and Crowley found himself rubbing or scratching at the spot during a seminar.
The day was busy enough that he managed to forget his soon to be broken heart for most of it, but when he went to look at the seating chart of the dinner for the conference participants, he noticed he was seated next to Aziraphale.
Of course. It was a painful reminder that he would have to spend the night pretending to be in love with the man he was in love with.
It sounded absurd when put like that, but when had Crowley’s life been anything else than absurd.
Aziraphale was delighted to spend the dinner with Crowley. Never had he thought he was overly touchy in showing his affections, no matter what Uriel or Gabriel said, but it was easy to keep touching Crowley casually during the meal. When he asked for salt, he wrapped his fingers around Crowley’s on top of the shaker, when he got up he slid his hand along Crowley’s sleeve, he pressed his leg gently against Crowley’s under the table.
It was exhilarating.
They had a few drinks at the hotel bar afterwards, having conversations with colleagues and other participants, but it was getting late and tomorrow would be an early morning.
“I’m beat, angel,” Crowley said. “Gonna head to bed.”
“I’ll come with you, my dear.”
Aziraphale hadn’t calculated how much Crowley undressing in the same room would affect him. He was so used to Crowley wearing layers and layers of black that seeing him pull his socks off and walk around the room barefoot was making Aziraphale want to see more. To his disappointment, Crowley went to have a shower and took his pyjamas with him.
That gave Aziraphale time to undress and change into his own night clothes. He preferred to shower in the morning. When Crowley came back from the bathroom wearing his pyjamas, Aziraphale watched from under the blankets how he walked to the other side of the bed.
The bed was giving Aziraphale some thoughts now. The Queen sized bed gave them both plenty of room to sleep on their own sides, but he could hear Crowley’s breathing and almost feel his warmth. It made him want to turn to face Crowley and curl next to him.
It was a silly thought. He could keep his hands to himself sleeping next to an incredibly attractive man.
Only in the morning it turned out Aziraphale couldn’t keep his hands to himself.
“Angel?” Aziraphale woke up to a voice next to his ear. “Aziraphale. Could you let me up? I need to use the loo.”
Aziraphale opened his eyes. His arm was tightly wrapped around Crowley’s waist and his leg was bent over Crowley’s thigh.
“I apologise,” Aziraphale said, embarrassed and backed off back on his own side.
“Don’t worry about it,” Crowley said, disappearing into the bathroom.
Maybe it was natural to gravitate towards a warm body in his sleep. That’s what Aziraphale told himself when he was dressing in the morning.
Waking up being held by an angel had been the fulfilment of some very private dreams Crowley had been having, but the reality of it was that Aziraphale had been asleep. He had no intention of cuddling Crowley, and he had been apologetic about it. That didn’t say ‘deep, secret feelings of love’ to him.
During breakfast, Crowley had a song from the gloomy musical where everyone was miserable Aziraphale had taken him to see playing in his head over and over again.
One more day.
He could hold on for one more day of this. Then the pretence would be over, and Crowley could walk away.
If only that thought didn’t hurt this much.
The day was active but boring. Aziraphale wanted to tell Crowley about the awful speaker at his early afternoon seminar, about Gabriel spilling his coffee on his new expensive suit during the short break in the afternoon, tell him the funny joke one of the women at a workshop had told Aziraphale, but he didn’t see Crowley until dinner. It was the last night of the conference, and the next morning people would be leaving home, so everyone seemed to be cheerful and eager to stay up late.
All except Aziraphale. He was unwilling to leave the conference yet, although it had mostly been dull and unimportant. Paradise had probably gained some relevant contacts from it, but Aziraphale’s role in any of it had been negligible. Although he was tired and wanted to get some alone time, somewhere he didn’t have to introduce himself to dozens of strangers per day and care about what they thought, he didn’t want his time with Crowley to end.
Aziraphale hadn’t forgotten about tomorrow, but he tried not to think about it too much.
Crowley had seemed to be in his thoughts during the dinner, so Aziraphale decided to give him some space and go to their room early.
Crowley spent the last evening of the conference trying to get spectacularly drunk just to feel less of everything, but the couple of whiskeys he’d drunk only worked to bring all the emotions on the surface. He had been missing Aziraphale terribly, and everyone else he had talked to didn’t compare to his angel. When he snuck back into the room, it was just after midnight. Trying to not stare at the sleeping angel in the bed, he changed his clothes and climbed in on the other side.
A few hours later, Crowley woke up. He was wrapped around something soft that was breathing on his face. When he opened his eyes, he found his hand and cheek against Aziraphale’s chest and Aziraphale watching him.
“Sorry,” Crowley mumbled.
“Don’t apologise,” the angel said. “I’m feeling very comfortable.”
Crowley stared at him and his eyes flicked on Aziraphale’s slightly open mouth.
“Are you drunk?” Aziraphale asked.
“Nah,” Crowley said. “Only had a glass of wine at dinner and a few glasses of whiskey after. Should’ve burned off by now.”
“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed out and pulled Crowley closer. “Would you be offended if I kissed you, my dear? Now that there’s no one else here but us.”
The only thing Crowley could do was shake his head.
It started soft. Just two pairs of dry lips pressing together. They explored each other for a few minutes, just enjoying the feeling of being held.
They stopped to breathe, and Crowley kicked off the blanket from around himself. He couldn’t take his eyes off Aziraphale who looked beautiful, almost glowing, in the near-darkness of the room. Adjusting his position, Crowley leaned lower and put his hand on Aziraphale’s collarbone.
Aziraphale kissed Crowley more deeply and rolled on top of him.
“This is a horrible idea,” Crowley said when Aziraphale yanked his pyjama pants down.
“I know,” Aziraphale said, sucking a mark on his neck. “Awful.”
“I want you, angel.”
“You have me,” Aziraphale said.
No, I don’t, Crowley thought. Not really. But if this is the closest I’ll ever be to having you, I’ll take it.
The morning was awkward. The bruises on Crowley’s skin caught Aziraphale’s eye when he was getting dressed and covering all of them with layers of black. The turtleneck Crowley wore managed to cover the hickeys, but it also made Aziraphale want to throw Crowley back on the bed.
“Crowley…” Aziraphale started but couldn’t figure out how to put any of his thoughts into words. He wanted to tell him they didn’t need to end this today, that they could explore the feelings more, but instead he said, “Are you ready?”
“Yeah, lead the way,” Crowley said.
Aziraphale was eating breakfast like he hadn’t a worry in the world. He finished his plate and was taking long sips from his tea. It felt so domestic to sit here. Too domestic. Too real.
It was as good a time as ever. Although Crowley could still feel the angel’s fingers and kisses on his skin, he couldn’t take more of this. He hoped he could make it sound like he was continuing an earlier argument, so he wouldn’t have to spend much time looking at Aziraphale.
“I'm going home, angel!” Crowley stood up from the table, startling Aziraphale. “I'm getting my stuff and I'm leaving! And when I'm off in the stars, I won't even think about you!”
Then he left the breakfast hall, feeling like he was about to cry behind his shades.
Aziraphale watched Crowley leave the table and the sight of him walking away made anxiety swirl in his gut. Of course this was how it was supposed to end, this was what they had agreed on…
“I’ve been there,” a passing stranger said to Aziraphale. “You’re better off without him.”
But the thought of losing Crowley made Aziraphale feel alone in ways he couldn’t explain. He felt like he was four again and had just been told he wouldn’t be allowed to meet his best friend anymore.
They had always found their ways back to each other, usually not because of Aziraphale, but this time was different. It felt more final.
And Aziraphale was to blame because his silly lie had brought them here.
“Crowley!” Aziraphale stood up. “Crowley, wait!”
He ran after the long-limbed dark shape, not giving a damn about people looking at him. He followed Crowley around the corner and crashed into a dark mass who had stopped to wait for him.
“What?” Crowley asked, his voice void of all emotion.
“I think we need to talk,” Aziraphale said.
“Do we?”
“Yes,” Aziraphale said.
“Please, angel…” Crowley said, his voice cracking. “Don’t make this more difficult than it already is.”
Either Crowley was a fantastic actor, or he was really holding back tears saying that. Aziraphale needed to know which it was and for that he needed five minutes of incredible courage.
“Can we go back to the room? Only for a few minutes. I have something I need to say,” Aziraphale pleaded and something in his tone made Crowley stop.
“Fine,” he said. “A few minutes.”
“Thank you.”
When they got to the room and had the door closed behind them, Crowley kept his distance and crossed his arms.
“Well then?” he asked.
Aziraphale wished he had prepared a speech or could remember any useful parts from any of the books he had read, but at that moment all of them appeared to have left his mind.
“I don’t want to break up,” Aziraphale said. “I want it to be real.”
Crowley frowned but removed his shades from his face. Aziraphale was relieved to see his eyes again.
“What does that mean? Be specific, angel.”
“It means…” Aziraphale tried to put his confused thoughts from the last month into words. Memories of holding Crowley’s hand, talking to him in a restaurant, kissing him, and having his hands all over Crowley’s body filled his mind, reminding that it really came down to a very simple truth. Something that had probably been growing for a while without Aziraphale ever realising it. “My dear, why do you think us being a couple was the first cover story I could think of when we were having lunch?”
“How should I know?” Crowley rolled his eyes. “Could be for any reason.”
“I didn’t know it yet back then, but my subconscious had caught up quicker than the rest of me,” Aziraphale said. “It was because I wanted it to be true. Because I’m in love with you.”
“Are you pulling a prank?” Crowley asked, still cautious, for reasons Aziraphale could understand.
“No, my darling. I’m asking you if you would like to go on a real date with me,” Aziraphale said, approaching Crowley like he was a spooked animal, likely to run away any minute. “Maybe dinner. Or a play.”
“Yeah,” Crowley breathed out. “I’d like that.”
“Can I touch you, my dear?” Aziraphale asked, but before he could, Crowley had stepped closer and pulled him into a gentle kiss. They stood holding each other for long minutes, until Crowley pulled back.
“Are you sure?” Crowley asked. “It’s a bit new, this thing between us.”
“Is it?” Aziraphale said, airily. “I don’t think it is. Our families are already convinced we’re engaged, after all.”
“You are a bastard,” Crowley grinned. “No wonder I love you.”
“That’s a good place to start then, in my opinion,” Aziraphale smiled. “Would you like to come over when we leave the hotel? I think we still have things to talk about.”
“Yes,” Crowley said, grasping Aziraphale’s arm. “Talk. And maybe more?”
Waves of arousal rolled over his skin from the place where Crowley was touching him.
“I would love nothing more, my darling.”
Neither of them ever told their families about the engagement deception. Sharing that little piece of information would have led to having to explain the real reason they had been meeting each other. It was easier to pretend they had been together all this time than go to the uncomfortable truths. When they did get married, after two more years of shared lunches, dinners, and nights with each other, they shared the whole story with some of their friends.
Nina found it hilarious. The scheme made Maggie anxious all the way through. Anathema said she had seen them eventually ending up together all along, and Newt just shrugged like it was a normal way for people to get together.
They all swore to never share any of it with either Aziraphale’s or Crowley’s families.
Wonderful!
Date: 2025-01-07 01:18 pm (UTC)Comicgeekery
Date: 2025-01-07 07:52 pm (UTC)Just what I wanted!
Date: 2025-01-08 04:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2025-01-11 04:52 am (UTC)