Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Look, angel, I– uhm,” Crowley fiddled with the long-stemmed wine glass he held in both hands. “I wanted to ask if, maybe, you’d consider, uhm… maybe, if you’d like to, that is… maybe we could – go out, sometime. You know, like – uhm, like a date?”

Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale gasped, his own fingers pressing down against his own wine glass now. “I–I’m sorry, Crowley. I—I think we’re better just being friends.”

A knife jammed straight into his chest would hurt less than this did, he was sure of that. Seeing Crowley’s face fall was the worst thing he’d ever witnessed, and he hated himself for doing this. Crowley didn’t deserve it. But it was the only way Aziraphale knew to get Crowley to see that they wouldn’t work. 

No matter how much Aziraphale loved him. 

“Right. Friends. Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Crowley scraped his throat, and Aziraphale watched every bit of comfort drain out of that perfect body. The natural slumping posture Crowley had been in, sprawled out on Aziraphale’s bed, was gone. Replaced by tight muscles and fidgeting fingers and legs. “I think I’ll head back to my own room though, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Aziraphale breathed and he wanted to reach out, wanted to pull him into his arms. “Are you sure you’re ok, Crowley? I would hate it if—”

“Don’t worry, an— Aziraphale . I’m just gonna sleep it off. Be right at rain tomorrow.”

Aziraphale nodded solemnly, knowing that wouldn’t happen. He had just broken something that couldn’t be fixed with something as easy as a good night’s sleep. He wanted to cry.

“Good night,” Crowley bid him and before Aziraphale could respond, he had slipped out of the door - leaving Aziraphale alone, to slip beneath the duvet covers and cry. 

His heart was broken. Utterly shattered. 

He was madly, irrevocably, unconditionally in love with his beautiful best friend. Crowley was everything he had ever wanted in a man. Clever, witty, strong, handsome and above all else, incredibly kind. 

He had wanted nothing more than to say yes. To be able to date Crowley and finally - finally - show him how much he cared for him. To express his love and ask Crowley to be his. Forever. To hug him tightly, cuddle him beneath these same duvet covers and kiss him whenever the fancy struck, but – he couldn’t. 

Because while Crowley was everything Aziraphale could ever want. Aziraphale could never be all that Crowley wanted, or deserved. 

Not for the first time he wondered if it wouldn’t all be worth it to just… have sex with Crowley. If he would just suppress his own wishes and needs, and focus on Crowley’s instead - he could be with the love of his life. Fake it. As he had come to believe, many people did that, right? 

He would never even have to tell Crowley that he identified as asexual. 

Except, he couldn’t. The idea alone irked him so much that he could feel the discomfort settle in his stomach. Churning his guts inside out. He was way too far down the repulsed side of the asexual ladder to even consider the notion. And it wouldn’t be fair to Crowley either.

He deserved to be made love to. And Aziraphale wished he could be the one to do it, but — he really didn’t want to.

So, he tugged the sheets a little higher, pulled his knees into his chest and cried. Around three in the morning, he woke up when their other two roommates - Hastur and Ligur - tumbled into the apartment. Both obviously pissed and loud. 

He cried some more. Hoping, against all odds, that Crowley was right, and that come tomorrow morning nothing about their friendship had changed.

Hastur and Ligur were spread out on the couch. Ligur was laying half on top of Hastur, sucking bruises into his neck whilst both of his hands were beneath the other man’s T-shirt. Obviously, neither one of them cared about Aziraphale sitting in the armchair opposite them.

The two men never had any shame when it came to displays of public affection, especially not in front of their roommates. Aziraphale was used to it, although he could definitely do without the background sound of Hastur’s whimpers and Ligur’s giggles. 

Really, it was quite disgusting.

The opening and slamming of the front door got the two lovebirds to - at least temporarily - stop and switch their focus onto the man who sauntered solemnly into their flat, immediately dropping down into the only armchair left. 

“Oomph,” Hastur laughed. “You look like shit, my man. Let me guess, not a good date?”

Crowley growled, dropping his head back. “Fucking terrible.”

“Tell us all about it.”

“First of all, they ate their spaghetti with a spoon. Who does that? And they never stopped talking about their ex. Some guy named Frank. I now know far more about this Frank than I know about them…He worked at an IT company, he had tattoos that actually meant something to him, not a snake tattoo that he got just for a laugh, oh and he would never drink espressos so late at night… Ugh .”

Aziraphale morphed his facial expression into one of sorrow and compassion for his best friend, whilst inwardly he was cheering. Oh, it was incredibly selfish, he knew - but he couldn’t help it. Jealousy and envy had been cutting away at him all night, and knowing that the date didn’t amount to anything - it was a soft balm to his pain. 

Until the next date…

Ever since that night, a couple of months back, Crowley had set up some new barriers. They all went unspoken, but Aziraphale knew they were there. Crowley had stopped parading around the flat in nothing but a white towel after taking a shower. He had stopped knocking on Aziraphale’s door the second Hastur and Ligur were out of the door. He had taken up night shifts at the coffee shop to avoid having to watch the new season of The Great British Bake Off with Aziraphale. 

And he had started dating.

“So, another fail then?” Ligur asked. “That makes like 15 since March.”

17, actually , Aziraphale thought but didn’t say.

“Ugh. I can’t help it that people set me up with total knobheads. Seriously, I’m starting to get the feeling that Anathema, Maggie and Nina are doing it on purpose.”

“Come on now, why would they do that?” Hastur scraped his throat. “”Maybe you’re just too picky.”

“I’m really not.”

“Right… Describe your dream man to us again.”

For the first time in days, Crowley looked at Aziraphale. Beautiful caramel-coloured eyes burning into his for just a second before nervously flicking away. 

“Just… You know, someone kind.”

“We need a bit more information than that, dude,” Ligur sighed. “Come on. If you could have anyone you wanted, who would you pick?”

Please stop, Aziraphale thought, biting down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to make it blister. Please don’t make this worse. He’s hurting. Can’t you see? He’s already hurting so much because of me, and you are making it worse. 

Again, Crowley looked over at him, only for a second, before averting his gaze. Aziraphale’s heart burned. 

“I–I just want someone I can trust. Someone I can laugh with, someone who’s strong but not afraid to be soft either, loyal but strong-minded and smart.”

“Hmmm. Looks-wise?”

Crowley looked down, a soft smile dancing on his lips and Aziraphale wanted to cry.

“I don’t much care about what they look like, as long as they have kind eyes.”

“Fuck that,” Hastur grunted. “You’ve got to have more of a vision, dude. Come on. What do you want to look at when you’re fucking them? Tattoos? Piercings? Would you rather they have a thick cock or a long one?”

Crowley visibly winced. “Shut up, Hastur!”

“What? That stuff's important,” Hastur laughed and swatted Ligur’s ass. “Isn’t it, doll?”

Ligur nodded and shuffled closer to Hastur - making Azirapale roll his eyes. Unbelievable. Crowley was being so sweet, so utterly romantic, and their two idiot roommates were ruining everything – as usual. 

“Anyway,” Crowley groaned, sinking deeper into his chair. “A man as perfect as that would clearly never go for someone like me. So, I’ll have to make do with men like Gabriel and Michael.”

Aziraphale cringed. He knew perfectly well that that last comment was directed at him. 

He hated it. All of it. He hated how he had to watch Crowley leave the house every Saturday night, dressed in deep red silk shirts and tight jeans that fit him so perfectly. He hated how Crowley had to date these men who clearly didn’t appreciate him for who he was. And most of all, he hated how he had to pretend that he didn’t want to be the one taking Crowley out. 

“Well. You’ve at least fucked them, right?”

“ What ?”

“Come on,” Ligur laughed. “Don’t tell me you went through an entire date enduring all that shit without fucking them at the end of it?” 

Aziraphale watched Crowley’s jaw lock tight.  

“Oh. Yeah. Sure – Course.” 

“Course,” Hastur nodded. “Bet he screamed Frank’s name whilst climaxing, eh?”

“Fuck you,” Crowley groaned. “‘M done talking about it. Drinks, anyone?”

“Nope,” Hastur said. “We’re actually going out.”

“Now?” Aziraphale asked. “It’s close to midnight.”

“Yes, thank you, booknerd,” Hastur said. “I’ll have you know that that’s when the good parties start.”

Aziraphale looked down, holding on tightly to the book he’d been reading. He had always loved the nights that Hastur and Ligur went out, because that meant that it was just him and Crowley in the flat. But that had been back when there was no tension between them. Back when it had been comfortable companionship, laughter and flirting. Oh god, how he missed the carefree flirting. Now, everything was just awkward.

“Fuck you, Hastur,” Crowley growled, coming to his rescue. As always.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Hastur laughed. “Maybe you should come. It’s swingers night at the Second Coming.”

“Gross,” Crowley said, jumping up out of the chair. 

Hastur and Ligur laughed, and Aziraphale watched Crowley saunter over to the kitchen, where he pulled the fridge open with a vengeance. 

“White or red wine, Aziraphale?” Crowley asked, looking over his shoulder. 

For the love of God, please, please, call me angel again.

“Red, please, dear.”

Crowley turned back to the fridge, retrieving a chilled bottle of cheap supermarket wine and pouring it into two high-stemmed glasses. Meanwhile, Hastur and Ligur had gotten up from the couch and made their way to the door. 

“Don’t wait up for us,” Ligur winked and Hastur laughed, putting a thick fur coat on Ligur’s shoulders and guiding him out the door. The second the door fell into the lock behind them, Crowley let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Fucking idiots,” he murmured, and because Aziraphale wasn’t sure whether he was meant to overhear or not, he didn’t respond. Instead he held his breath until Crowley handed him his glass and sat back down in the armchair.

“How was your Saturday night then?”

“Nothing special.”

Crowley hummed, sipping from his glass. “Is it any good?” he asked, tipping his chin to the book in Aziraphale’s lap.

“It’s acceptable,” Aziraphale smiled. “A little too black and white for me, but – it’s fine.”

“Black and white?”

“Yes. You know. Too narrow-minded.”

“In what way?” Crowley asked, taking another sip as he shifted, putting one foot on the chair whilst letting the other dangle over the side. 

“Many ways. Sexually, mostly,” Aziraphale said before he could think the better of it. He loved it when Crowley asked to talk about books. Especially since it didn’t happen as much anymore. But it might not be a good idea to talk about that . 

“Sexual?” Crowley asked, tilting his head in clear interest, because of course he’d be interested in that.

“Right. Or, the lack of sex rather,” Aziraphale said, looking down at the book instead of at his best friend. “You… ehm, you know what asexuality is, I reckon?”

Crowley snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yes. I know what asexuality is.”

“Right. Well. There are two characters in this book who identify as asexual, and they are practically the same. Both on the repulsive end of the spectrum. Both with the exact same boundaries. And I just… I don’t think that’s very likely to happen.”

“Sounds a bit far fetched, yes.”

“Exactly. I think the spectrum is so broad and diverse, that the chances of falling in love with someone who carries the exact same boundaries as you, is near impossible. I think there’s always compromises to make, and I think this author had the perfect opportunity to show how important clear and honest communication is between the two characters, but instead she just focuses on the murder mystery and… I don’t know. It’s a bit disappointing, I guess.”

“Yeah, I understand,” Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale watched his jaw shift once, twice, three times before he scraped his throat and said, “is the mystery part of the plot at least good?”

“I’ve had a suspicion of who the killer is since chapter three.”

Crowley laughed, throwing his head back and it was beautiful. “Of course you have. And I bet you’re right, too.”

“I’ll let you know when I get there.”

“Please do,” Crowley said, and for a second they sat there, just smiling at each other, like old times. Aziraphale’s heart ached. He wanted . He wanted so much. 

“Crowley,” he whispered. I love you. I love you. I love you. “I miss you.”

Crowley’s sharp inhale of breath echoed through the living room, and settled between Aziraphale’s ribs, sparking a too tight feeling in his chest. 

“I miss you too,” Crowley said, voice hoarse and bleak. “But it’s difficult for me, Aziraphale. You must understand. I– I can’t be as close to you as before without…” He swallowed thickly. “Without wanting more .”

More. Love. Sex. 

“I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t be,” Crowley smiled but it was all topsy-turvy and wrong. “You just don’t feel the same. I get it. There’s nothing to apologise for. I just… I need time, alright.”

I do feel the same. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything else in my life. The words were on the tip of Aziraphale’s tongue, and yet he couldn’t speak them. It would be unfair to do so. 

“Yes, of course.”

Crowley’s smile trembled as he swallowed the last of his wine. “I think I’ll head to bed.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale couldn’t stop the disappointment from dripping into his voice. “Right. Okay.” 

He wished Crowley would stay. More than that, he wished he could come with Crowley. He missed the feel of those ridiculous silk sheets on his skin, and he would do almost anything to hold Crowley through the night.

Instead, Aziraphale whispered, “sleep well, my dear.”

“Good night,” Crowley said, his voice soft and filled with so much love that Aziraphale could hardly stand it. He watched Crowley deposit his empty wine glass on the kitchen counter before disappearing down the hall to his bedroom. When the door dropped shut behind him, Aziraphale wrapped his arms around himself. 

His sexuality had not only lost him the chance at the most perfect boyfriend, but had also clearly lost him his best friend. 

A ping on his phone made him temporarily shut down his self-pity. It was a text from Muriel. The only friend who knew about his sexuality - because Muriel was asexual too and had seen straight through his act. 

Aziraphale! I have fantastic news! You know that new coffee shop on Regent Road? It’s hosting a speed date night for asexual people. Friday the 15th. We’re going! X. 

Aziraphale sighed. He didn’t want to date anyone who wasn’t Crowley. But he did owe them one, as Muriel had gotten him out of an uncomfortable moment at work, when Mr. Brown from three doors down had started aggressively flirting with him.

Fine, he texted back. But I think it’s important that you know that I do not share your excitement about this.

By the time Muriel returned his text, he had cleared up the glasses and was ready for bed.

Pish Posh. It’ll be great. And wear that light blue bow tie.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale had not known that there were this many asexual beings in London.

The coffee shop was packed with men and women, who were anxiously waiting in line to hear whether they’d been assigned a table or would be part of the ‘switching-at-every-bell’ group. Aziraphale and Muriel were huddled together in one corner, already assigned their places as ‘switchers’. 

“Look,” Muriel said. “I might not go home with anyone for sex, but I might go home with them for a good cuddle, you know. I just don’t want you to worry if you can’t find me at the end of the night.”

“You’re very optimistic,” Aziraphale sighed, anxiously tugging at his bow tie. “All I’m asking is you popping me a quick text if you’re heading out without me. An emoji would suffice.”

“Fine, fine,” Muriel laughed. “You act like my dad, sometimes.”

“I’m just looking out for you.”

“I know.” They kissed his cheek. “And you know that I love you for it. Now, cheer up and relax, Aziraphale. Just have fun, okay. I’m going to get us some champagne.”

Aziraphale hummed and watched as the crowd parted around Muriel like a sea. It wasn’t long before they were approached by the first woman. Muriel had always had a gift with people. Their sunny personality combined with adorable looks were magnetic to men and women alike. 

He watched as Muriel spoke animatedly to the woman for a bit, whilst another suitor impatiently joined their little huddle. Aziraphale paid close attention, ready to step in at any second, but the three of them seemed to enjoy their chat and Muriel wore their most beaming smile. When they finally did break loose from their first two suitors of the night, they could only set a few steps before someone else patted their shoulder. 

Aziraphale watched Muriel’s eyes widen, their smile broadening even further as their arms wrapped around this person, pulling them close. Aziraphale’s own eyes widened at the first flash of bright red hair and an emerald green silk shirt. Crowley. He would recognise him anywhere. What was Crowley doing at a speed dating event for asexual people? His breath hitched and he both wanted to join them and run in the opposite direction.

Before he could make a decision on either, Muriel pulled back and pointed straight at him, making Crowley turn. Caramel-coloured eyes locked on his and Aziraphale watched as Crowley’s eyes widened. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, even as Crowley leaned over to say something to Muriel, something that got him another beaming smile, before walking over to him. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said when he was close enough for Aziraphale to not only hear him properly, but smell his cologne as well. Spice and cedarwood, in a room that otherwise smelled of coffee and soap. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I … what are you doing here, Crowley?”

“I’m here to speed date,” Crowley said, a frown on his face. “Obviously.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped. “This is… This is speed dating for asexual people .”

“Yes, I know,” Crowley rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. “How stupid do you think I am?”

“But why would you—” Aziraphale’s brain must’ve turned to mush, because he couldn’t come up with any reason why Crowley would be here, except— But that couldn’t be, could it? Crowley couldn’t possibly be–…. Because if he was, that meant that Aziraphale had rejected him for nothing. 

There was a loud bell that signalled that the first dates were about to start, and whilst the people around them rushed to their respective tables, both Crowley and Aziraphale lingered, seemingly unable to move away from one another until a woman from the organising committee broke through their stupor.

“Gents. Take your places, please. We’re about to start the first timer.” 

Aziraphale’s breath was shallow as he looked down at the card in his hands. He needed to go to table 5. But he wanted to stay with Crowley. 

“Gents! Please!”

“Right. Yes. Sorry,” Crowley said. “I–I’ll see you during the break, angel.”

Angel. He called me angel. A spark of hope fueled Aziraphale’s chest, making his heart beat a little faster. He watched Crowley saunter to the other side of the room, where he was sat opposite a beautiful woman with bright purple hair and dungarees. Aziraphale himself was personally guided to table 5 by the organising woman, who tutted at him until he had taken his seat opposite a man with a ‘The Sound Of Music’ sweatshirt on. 

No thanks.

The man started talking immediately, something about gyms and proteïn shakes, and although Aziraphale wanted to be polite, he couldn’t help sneaking peeks to the other side of the room – to where Crowley was laughing with this unknown woman. 

Crowley was asexual. 

There was no other reason for him to be here. He was asexual. And currently speed dating with someone else because Aziraphale had never told him that he too was asexual. 

But Crowley hadn’t told him either. Why hadn’t he told him? 

Probably for the exact same reasons, you dummy. Fear of rejection, fear of being misunderstood, fear of being ridiculed. 

Aziraphale was terrified, and that fear lodged deep inside his stomach. He felt sick. He really tried to listen to the man opposite him - who was now going on about something called a treadmill - but his head was pounding and his throat was dry and he could feel his heartbeat throbbing behind his eyes. 

The bell rang and he somehow got up and moved on to the next table on the right. Another man, this one dressed similarly to Aziraphale himself, welcomed him.

“I like your look,” the man laughed as Aziraphale sat down, and that was enough for at least some of the tension to break. Aziraphale returned the compliment with an honest smile and the man launched into a story about the exact tailor Aziraphale frequently visited. They laughed at the shared experience, and Aziraphale was actually starting to feel a little calmer – until he looked to his right, and found Crowley looking straight at him. 

When Crowley realised he’d been caught staring, he immediately turned back to his conversation partner.

Aziraphale’s heart plummeted. Was Crowley angry with him? Disappointed? Was he feeling cheated? Or lonely? The knowledge that they could’ve shared in the experience of finding out that you’re not like everyone else and that you don’t feel what everyone else is feeling was weighing heavy on Aziraphale’s heart. What he wouldn’t have given to be there for Crowley. What he wouldn’t have given to have Crowley be there for him. Instead they had both held back such an important part of themselves, they had struggled to all those thoughts and feelings alone, and they had clearly hurt each other in the process.

He could feel the tears burn in his eyes. 

“So, what is it you do?” the man asked. He smiled at him, patiently waiting for an answer, and Aziraphale found him lovely. But so utterly wrong for him. 

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed, as he blinked against the sting in his eyes. “I— I really need to go.”

“Hey. Are you alright?”

Aziraphale blinked again and the first tear slipped through his facade, dripping down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away with his sleeve, but the man had obviously spotted it and leaned forward.

“There is a lesser-known set of gents toilets down that hall to your left. Third door to the right.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale breathed as he stood up. He turned, ready to rush away, but turned back then. “I really hope you find someone tonight.”

The man smiled and said something back, but Aziraphale was already gone.

Chapter Text

Breathe in for 1, 2, 3, 4. Breathe out for 1, 2, 3, 4. Breathe in for 1,2—--

Aziraphale’s hands clutched around the edge of the washing basin. He had his face turned down, chin tucked against his chest, so that he wouldn’t see himself in the mirror. That one look at his pale face and glossy eyes had been enough to trigger a panic attack and he didn’t need to worsen it. 

Breathe out for 1, 2, 3, 4. Breathe in for 1, 2, 3, 4.

There was a knocking on the door that made Aziraphale jump. He rubbed his eyes vigorously, trying to get rid of any evidence of his sorrow and anxiety before the someone would get in - but the door remained closed. Another knock sounded.

“Aziraphale? Are you alright? Can I— Can I come in?”

Crowley.

Aziraphale gasped, the breath sharp enough to send a sting down his oesophagus. The door opened a creak in the absence of his reply.

“Aziraphale. Fuck . Please. Just – Tell me you’re okay.”

Oh. The absolute darling. 

“You can come in, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, noticing how his voice was ridden with sadness, all husky and strained. He kept his eyes down as he heard the door open and close. The close presence of Crowley was equal parts scary and a balm to his pain. He wanted to run away and hide, as much as he wanted to be wrapped in those warm, strong arms. 

“Are you okay?” Crowley asked, as he lingered by the door. “I–I saw you leave the room and you looked— upset . Is it because of me? Am I ruining this for you? Look, you don’t have to feel awkward about it, okay. I asked you out, you didn’t fancy me. You’re looking for someone you do fancy. I get it. I won’t act all jealous or possessive, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“No. No, that’s not—”

“Then what is it?”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped. “How come you didn’t tell me that you were asexual?”

Crowley had the nerve to look surprised by that. His jaw locked tight and he raised his chin a little - a move that Aziraphale knew meant that he was holding back his rather big emotions. 

“I—I didn’t know I had to tell you,” Crowley said, and although he clearly tried to put a bite behind the words, they came out all soft and taut. “You never told me.”

“But… you knew?”

“I had a slight suspicion,” Crowley said, and his harsh exterior already faltered, shoulders drooping down. “Mostly because of the amount of non-fiction books you’ve read on the subject in the last couple of years. But I wasn’t going to out you. Or ask about it. Obviously”

“I–I didn’t know you were that interested in what I read.” 

“I’m that interested in everything you do, angel.”

Aziraphale breathed, his heart close to bursting.

“Right. So you’re— too ?”

“Yeah,” Crowley’s left hand came up to scratch the back of his neck. “Look, I am sorry for never telling you. I know I could have. I know you would’ve never treated me differently or anything - even if you hadn’t been asexual yourself. It was never about that, okay. It just – never seemed like the right moment.”

“I understand.”

“So – you’re not mad at me?”

“No. I’m not.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Crowley asked, stepping closer now, one hand finding the edge of the wash basin, close to Aziraphale’s own hands but not quite touching. “The man you were talking to– he, he seemed… nice . Like he might be your type. He didn’t do something untowards, right?”

“No. No. Nothing like that.”

“Right. Good.”

“What about that woman you were speaking with?” Aziraphale said, keeping his voice as soft as to avoid his jealousy bleeding into it. “She was very pretty.”

“Yeah. I guess,” Crowley looked uncomfortable. “She didn’t know what a Bentley was though.”

“Oh gosh,” Aziraphale couldn’t help but chuckle. “That’s a fatal flaw in character.”

“Yeah,” Crowley laughed, and their eyes met in the mirror. Crowley’s amber eyes were shining with patience and kindness. He was so beautiful. So unbearably beautiful. “ Aziraphale,” he breathed. “Will you please tell me what’s wrong.”

“Do you still—” Aziraphale stopped, swallowed, looking down at where their fingers were almost touching. He only needed to move his pinky a little to the left to brush it against Crowley’s. “Have you— Would you— Oh. Crowley. I—I think I made a huge mistake.”

“What is it?” Crowley asked, oblivious but ever so kind. “Whatever it is, angel. I’m sure you can fix it.”

“Can I?”

Crowley hummed, nodding sympathetically. “I’m sure you can.”

Aziraphale was terrified, heart beating in his throat and stomach churning dangerously as he asked, “your asexuality, Crowley. Does it mean you don’t like to be kissed?”

“Ah. No. No, I mean. No. I— I like being kissed. But only by someone I fancy.”

“Do you still… Do you still fancy me ?”

He could feel the instant Crowley’s eyes shot up, could feel those beautiful eyes burn into the side of his head, but he kept his own gaze firmly down. He did move his pinky though, swiping it gently along Crowley’s knuckle.

“Angel. You know I do.”

Crowley trembled beneath his subtle touch. Fingers ice cold and completely still. 

Aziraphale took the chance.

“Can I kiss you?”

Crowley’s sharp inhale echoed through the small space, his fingers curling into a fist, away from Aziraphale’s touch. “No,” he gasped and the tremor in his body had clearly made it all the way to his throat. His voice shook with fear. “No. Aziraphale. Don’t. I—I can’t. You don’t like me. Not like that. You said so.”

“Oh, darling,” Aziraphale cracked, seeing how his words had affected Crowley was enough to tear down every one of his hesitations. All that mattered was that he made this right. Heal what he had broken. Fix what he had ruined. “I didn’t know you were asexual. I thought you would want to…” he swallowed. “And that I would never be able to give you what you need. What you deserve. You see, I only said what I said because I thought I would never be good enough for you.”

“You thought I would need sex?”

“Well. It’s not that weird of a conclusion, is it? Many people need it. And you never said anything of the contrary when Hastur and Ligur asked about it.”

“Of course I didn’t. They don’t have to know shit about me. I don’t owe them an explanation.... You know how they are. It was just easier to… play along .”

“Yes. I understand.”

Crowley softened. “I should’ve told you though. And I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“Me too.”

The right corner of Crowley’s mouth twitched into what looked like a hesitant smile and Aziraphale reached out again, this time brushing his thumb across Crowley’s fingers before covering his tight fist with his own hand. 

“I do like you, Crowley. I like you exactly like that. I think you’re amazing. You’re loyal and smart and witty and so generous. And I’m so sorry to have hurt you. If I’d known, I would’ve never — And I understand if it’s too late. I understand if you have moved on, or if you decide that it just isn’t what you want, but… I want you to know that, if I could take it back, I would. If I could do that night all over again, I–I would say yes.”

Crowley sniffed but he looked away as soon as Aziraphale looked up at him, hiding his tears. 

“Would you?” he asked then, voice brittle. “What if I asked you again ?”

Aziraphale’s throat lodged painfully and he squeezed Crowley’s hand. “Please.”

Crowley turned to him then, eyes glossy and his cheeks so pale that Aziraphale wanted to kiss them until the usual rosy pink hue returned. 

“Angel,” Crowley whispered. “Would you—”

They were interrupted when the door to the toilets was thrown open and the woman from the organisation burst in. 

“What do you think you’re doing? You’ve been gone for far too long,” she shouted, her face red and her eyes even more agitated than before. “You are supposed to be at table 29 and table 41 right now. Chop chop.” 

Aziraphale could feel the heat rise to his cheeks. He had always hated getting caught when disobeying and he genuinely felt remorse for being such a, well, pain in the ass for this woman - who was only trying to do her job right.

Crowley had less of a problem with being a rule-breaker.

His fist uncurled, and his fingers curled around Aziraphale’s wrist instead. “We’re really sorry but – we’re out of here.”

“What? No. You–You can’t just do that.”

“Watch us,” Crowley laughed and he pulled Aziraphale along. Down the hall and back into the café. They rushed past all the tables and Aziraphale tried looking for Muriel but couldn’t find them. He did catch the eyes of the man he’d been speaking to earlier though, and the man winked and waved him off. 

Then they were out the door. The cold evening air of London biting into Aziraphale’s skin. He shivered and Crowley pulled him close, right up against his side. 

“Go out with me,” Crowley whispered. “Right now. Wherever you wanna go, angel. The movies. A late dinner. Bowling. Fuck, you could ask me to take you to fucking Alpha Centauri and I’d say yes.”

“Alpha Centauri? Is that a planet?”

Crowley threw his head back and laughed. “No angel, it’s a star.”

Aziraphale blushed. Crowley had been studying astrophysics for years now, and although Aziraphale loved listening to him speak about the universe, he had to admit that he only remembered snippets of it - at best.

He imagined it was similar to Crowley never remembering the names of all the famous authors he talked about. 

“How about getting a glass of champagne at one of those fancy sky bars?”

Crowley’s smile brightened and his fingers slid down Aziraphale's wrist to entwine with his, squeezing softly. “Sounds perfect to me, angel.”

They started walking silently, hands intertwined and huddled so close together that their shoulders kept touching. It was intimate and lovely, and Aziraphale never wanted it to end. When they reached the nearest five-star hotel with a sky bar, he was surprised to find that Crowley kept holding his hand, all the way through the lobby and even in the elevator. 

Like he didn’t want it to end either. 

When the bell chimed and the doors slid open, they were both met with floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a beautiful view of the dark city skyline. The millions of lights in London were breathtaking, and by far the most romantic thing Aziraphale had even seen.

Crowley squeezed his hand and guided him to a red velvet couch near the windows. With its beautiful view and the burning candles on the side tables, it could be a perfectly relaxing place to hang out as friends, or an intimate spot for a first romantic date. – Aziraphale sat down, careful to leave enough space for Crowley to sprawl himself out in the other corner of the couch, but instead the man sat close to him. Close enough for their knees to touch. Oh my. He really was on a date with Crowley. 

It didn’t take long for the waiter to come over to their table, and when Aziraphale started nervously babbling about not having looked at the menu yet, Crowley put a comforting hand on his knee and ordered them both a glass of the Châteauneuf-Du-Pape. The waiter tipped her head and huddled back to the bar, returning not long after with two beautiful crystal wine glasses tipped with a rich looking red wine. 

“You seem to know the menu here quite well,” Aziraphale joked. “Been here before, have you?”

Crowley hummed, looking skittish as he took the first sip of his wine. “Michael took me here for our date.”

“Oh.”

“Is that awkward? Shit. It’s awkward, isn’t it? Fuck. I–I should’ve thought of that,” Crowley’s ears flushed and the wine in his glass swirled as he started rambling. “Fuck. I’m sorry, angel. I didn’t think… I just. When he took me here and I saw the view, I–I wished you were here with me. And when I had my first sip of this wine I thought, ‘Aziraphale would love this.’ And I— I was just excited to show you.”

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale blushed, sending his fingers out to wrap around Crowley’s knee and give him an encouraging squeeze. “That’s so sweet of you.”

“We can leave if you want though.”

“Not at all,” Aziraphale smiled. “Don’t fret, darling. It’s a wonderful choice for a first date.”

Crowley flushed red again. 

“Now,” Aziraphale said, putting his glass down on the side table before leaning closer to Crowley, fighting the urge to bury his face into the man’s neck and smell that intoxicating scent of sandalwood and spice right from the source. “Shall we get the little embarrassing ‘what kind of asexual are you’ talk out of the way, first?”

Crowley looked surprised, blinking rapidly multiple times before nodding feverishly.

“Good. Well. If I am to start somewhere, I’d say, I’m not into anything sexual, really. No penetration. No blowjobs or handjobs. That sort of thing.”

“Right. No. Me–Me neither.”

“You’re good with kissing though?”

“Yes. I–I like kissing.”

“Cuddling?”

“Yep.”

“Sleeping together.”

“Oh. Yes. Please.”

“Good. Me too,” Aziraphale smiled, trying not to think about waking up next to Crowley. “How do you feel about nakedness?”

Crowley chuckled. “You’ve seen me walk around our house wearing nothing but a towel around my waist, angel. I think you know I’m quite alright with nakedness.”

Now it was Aziraphale who blushed. “You haven’t done that for a while, though.”

Crowley chuckled. “Missed the sight of me, did you?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale confessed. “I rather did.”

“So, you’re okay with nakedness too?”

“Yes. Although I have to say, I’m quite a lot less comfortable with it then you are, my dear.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Crowley said, lowering his voice to an almost whisper. “I bet you look amazing.”

Aziraphale could feel the blush deepen, his cheeks heating from the inside out. 

“So. We’re both good with kissing and cuddling. We can sleep in the same bed and won’t be uncomfortable seeing the other undressed. No further sexual acts, though.”

Crowley looked at him and laughed. 

“What? Did I— Did I miss something?”

Crowley grinned, his face a beacon of joy. “Do you remember that chat we had a couple nights back? When you told me about that book you were reading, and about the asexual characters being too similar?”

“ Ahm. Yes.”

“Well. I guess the story wasn’t that far fetched after all,” Crowley said. “We seem to be quite similar.”

Aziraphale laughed. “Oh gosh. Yes. I believe you’re right. I will change my rating accordingly.”

“Good,” Crowley smiled, picking up his glass again and holding it aloft. “So. Can we toast to being very compatible?”

Aziraphale ticked his glass to Crowley’s and when he took the first sip of wine, his eyes fluttered shut. The perfect temperature of the drink combined with the multitude of scents and flavours that burst open on his tongue were devine. He allowed himself to get lost in the taste for a second – When he opened his eyes again, Crowley was looking at him with an indulgent smile on his face.

“It’s good, isn’t it, angel?”

“The best wine I’ve ever tasted, dear.”

“You’re so pretty when you get all hedonistic,” Crowley said, his voice tipped low. “I still can’t believe we’re really here. On a date. I’ve dreamed about it so many times, but after you rejected me I had given up on the hope of it ever becoming reality. And yet – I couldn’t seem to give up on us completely.” He swallowed and looked down at his glass. “Did you know that I looked at other flats? Even visited a few of them. I thought maybe it would be easier if I didn’t have to see you everyday, but then when I would have to make the decision whether or not to get the room, I would always backtrack. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to leave you – even if it broke my heart every day.”

For the utmost time tonight, Aziraphale’s eyes burned with tears. 

“Crowley,” he whispered. “If I had known—” 

“I know, angel.”

“I never wanted to hurt you, but I had convinced myself that I would only hold you back. I wanted you to fly, my darling. I wanted you to have everything you ever wanted.”

“I only want you.”

“Oh, my dearest,” Aziraphale laughed as the first tears fell down his cheeks. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one, angel.”

Aziraphale wanted to kiss him. But he didn’t dare. Even if it was obvious that Crowley was quite alright with him planting a kiss on him, he didn’t dare. After all, it would be their first kiss – and a first kiss should be special. Was this special enough though? Was it too early? Would he miss the best opportunity he would get, if he didn’t lean over right now? 

“Angel?” Crowley’s hand caught Aziraphale’s, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You spaced out there for a bit. Are you okay? What were you thinking about?”

Maybe he was still too far gone in his own thoughts, maybe the good wine had risen to his head or maybe it was the intoxicating feeling of being so close to what he wanted more than anything else in the world, but Aziraphale couldn’t stop his mouth from saying what it wanted to say – 

“Kissing you,” He blurted out. The shock of having said the words rushing up to meet them only a second too late. His cheeks burned, his stomach rolled and he felt like he was on top of one of those dangerous roller coasters that had you hang over the edge and look down at your doom before pummeling you southward.

Crowley didn’t seem to have any of these problems. 

He smirked, a wide smirk that made the corners of his mouth lift and reach to almost his ears.

“Yeah?” He asked, “What exactly was it you were thinking?”

Aziraphale swallowed against the lump in his throat, certain that he was not going to answer that question, until Crowley’s thumb brushed across the back of his palm and he lost all ability to deny the man anything.

“I–I was wondering where you would like to be kissed.”

Crowley chuckled low, shifting closer to Aziraphale. “Well. I’ve been dreaming about kissing your lips for ages now, but I guess I could settle for a kiss on my cheek or jaw.”

“Silly man,” Aziraphale laughed. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. I meant– where . Like would you like our first kiss to be here or at home, or maybe like somewhere special like… I don’t know, The Ritz or something.” 

“I really don’t care.”

“Crowley, that can’t be true.”

“It is. I promise you,” Crowley said. “I don’t care where, angel. Whenever you feel like it, okay. Wherever you want to kiss me. I’m good with everything.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“I do. The place isn’t important to me. I know that it’s going to be the best kiss I’m ever going to get. Because it’s you.”

Oh. How could he not be in love with this perfect man? 

“I—I haven’t kissed anyone in a long time. I don’t know whether I–”

“Me neither,” Crowley said. “Haven’t wanted to. Couldn’t. Not when my head was full of you.”

One more sweet word from Crowley, and Aziraphale was certain his heart would explode. He felt undeserving of all this kindness and devotion, but he wanted it. God, how he wanted it. He leaned his head against Crowley’s shoulder, making the other man chuckle and plant a chaste kiss on the top of his head. 

“It’s okay, angel,” Crowley whispered. “Don’t fret it. Everything will be alright. Whenever, wherever, okay. I’ll be right here.”

“Thank you, darling.”

“Anything for you.” 

And from the soft way he said it, Aziraphale knew that he meant it. 

The conversation flowed easily then. They went from those deep, intimate topics back to their everyday banter and it felt like the last couple of months had never happened. Muriel interrupted them temporarily as they berated Aziraphale over the phone for having left without texting them, but they squeaked when Crowley took the blame, explaining that he was currently wooing Aziraphale. Muriel hung up after making Aziraphale promise to call them and tell them everything tomorrow. 

They finished their wines, and chose to walk home instead of taking the bus. With their fingers entwined, they huddled together against the cold, happy when they arrived home. The living room was dark, meaning that Hastur and Ligur were probably still out, and they were home alone. 

“Do you want something to drink, angel?”

“No, thank you, darling. I–I think I’d like to head to bed now.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. Of course.” For the first time that night Crowley seemed nervous. He looked down and scratched the back of his neck. “Well. Uhm. I– I hope you sleep well, angel. Maybe tomorrow, we could have breakfast at that little bakery you like so much?”

Aziraphale loved him so dearly.

“Darling,” he said, “I would love to have breakfast with you in the morning.”

“Ah goo–”

“But if you’re amenable, I would also very much like to sleep next to you tonight.”

“Crowley’s head shot up so fast that Aziraphale was surprised that there wasn’t a cracking sound. Those beautiful golden eyes were widespread, and there was a twinkle there that sent shivers down Aziraphale’s spine.

“You— You mean that?” Crowley asked. “You’re not just doing this for me, are you? Or because you feel guilty or something?”

“I am not.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive, darling.”

Crowley nodded. “Okay. Then, yes. I–I would love to. Yes.”

Aziraphale smiled so bright that it hurt his cheeks. 

“Let me get my pyjamas.”

Crowley rushed into his own bedroom and reappeared not minutes later, carrying a pair of silk black pyjamas in his hands. There was a bounce in his step that made Aziraphale giggle. Crowley was excited . 

“Okay, angel?” Crowley smiled. “You still—”

“Yes, I still - you silly man,” Aziraphale laughed, bringing his hands up to clutch around the lapels of Crowley’s jacket. “I’m just insanely happy, right now.”

Crowley’s eyes darkened a shade. “Me too, angel.”

They were close. Close enough for Aziraphale to notice the length of Crowley’s eyelashes and the sprinkle of freckles on his nose. He wanted nothing more than to lean forward and taste the smile on Crowley’s face. Kissing him before taking him to bed was probably the proper thing to do anyway, right? 

Right? 

He swallowed thickly, watching whilst Crowley’s eyes flicked from Aziraphale’s eyes to his lips and back up again. There was a softness there that told Aziraphale that it was good. That while Crowley was waiting for him to close the space between them, he wanted to kiss him too. 

“Can I?” Aziraphale asked, his voice barely a whisper. 

“Always,” Crowley answered. 

He breathed in, bathed in Crowley’s familiar scent, and leaned forward — only to be interrupted by the slam of the front door. 

“We’re hooo—- oh fuck !”

Hastur and Ligur practically tumbled into the flat, the scent of strong alcohol following on their trail. 

“What were you two do-oooing?” Ligur singsonged, swaying over to the kitchen. “Were you about to kiss?”

“Finally,” Hastur groaned. “Fucking hell. You’ve been twirling around each other like fucking girls.”

“Shut up.”

“Ah, don’t be all grumpy,” Hastur laughed. “We didn’t mean to cockblock you. Jees. Just get into the bedroom already.”

“Gladly,” Crowley groaned, taking hold of Aziraphale’s hand and pulling him into his own bedroom, slamming the door behind him. 

“Fucking idiots,” Crowley heaved, as he threw his head back against the locked door. He breathed deep for a few seconds, and then his face brightened, a mischievous glance in those beautiful eyes that had Aziraphale equal amounts worried and excited.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, nerves slipping into his voice.

“Let’s have a bit of fun, shall we?” Crowley beamed, as he tore off his shoes and climbed onto the bed. He started bouncing up and down, making the old wooden structure squeak under the pressure.

Aziraphale laughed.

“Come on, angel,” Crowley said, reaching out a hand. “Let’s get back at them for all those terrible sexual innuendos and displays of affection that they’d forced us to be a part of.”

Aziraphale was already stepping out of his loafers, and let himself be pulled onto the bed by Crowley’s strong arms. They jumped together, making the bed squeak and Aziraphale added to it by slamming his hands onto the wall.

It only took a couple of minutes before Hastur pounded on the door and shouted, “Keep it down you assholes!”

They laughed and collapsed in a heap on the bed, taking a few seconds to catch their breaths. Crowley was the first to sit up on his elbows, looking down at Aziraphale with bright eyes. He was radiating so much joy and so much love, that Aziraphale couldn’t not kiss him. 

He put one hand behind Crowley’s neck and pulled him down, swallowing the other man’s surprised squeak with their first kiss. Crowley’s lips were soft and warm, a firm presence against Aziraphale’s own. A hand came up to cradle Aziraphale’s jaw as they broke the kiss softly.

“Alright, angel?” Crowley whispered. 

“Perfect, my darling.”

Crowley smiled, leaning down to press another chaste kiss on Aziraphale’s lips. “I love you,” he whispered, brushing his thumb across Aziraphale’s cheek. 

“I love you too.”

Just as they’d done earlier in the cold, they snuggled up together on the bed. At one point they unwrapped long enough to put on their pyjamas, but they were quickly back in bed, wrapped up beneath linen sheets. Crowley’s head on Aziraphale’s chest, and their fingers entwined beneath the sheets. 

They fell asleep after plenty of stolen kisses and woke up by a loud knocking on the bedroom door.

“Rooooomservice,” Ligur called, and Aziraphale grumpily got out and pulled the door open. Ligur was carrying a tray on which lay two slices of quite-burned toast with cheese and an apple. 

“I thought you both could use come fuel after last night,” Ligur grinned, but his smirk was quickly replaced by a frown when his eyes dropped low and noticed Aziraphale’s tartan pyjamas. “You got dressed into pyjamas after sex? Fuck, you two are weird.” 

He pushed the tray into Aziraphale’s hands and turned around, shaking his head all the way back to the kitchen. 

“Well,” Aziraphale breathed, looking down at the not-so-great breakfast. “That’s kind of them.”

“Pff. Nosy bastards,” Crowley groaned, patting the mattress. “Come back to bed, angel. Let’s cuddle a little longer and then I’ll take you out to breakfast.”

“Great idea, darling.”

This time it was Aziraphale who laid his head on Crowley’s chest. Crowley’s fingers came up to brush through his hair, tugging softly on a loose curl every once in a while. 

“Do you think we should tell them?” Aziraphale whispered. “About being asexual I mean.”

“Do you want to?”

Aziraphale tried to picture Hastur and Ligur’s responses and couldn’t think of one good outcome. He shivered in Crowley’s arms. “Not really, because I just know that they won’t understand. That they’ll make fun of it. Of us, and I— I don’t want that.”

Crowley held him closer. “You don’t owe anyone your story, angel. Remember that. They aren’t entitled to anything.”

“So, you don’t think we should tell them?”

“I don’t think they have anything to do with our sexlife,” Crowley said, voice very certain and calm. “Truth be told, I wish they would let us know less about their sex life too.”

Aziraphale laughed and pressed a kiss to Crowley’s neck. “Yes. You’re right.”

“Whoever you want to tell, we’ll tell,” Crowley said. “But it’s important for me that you know that we don’t have to. Nobody needs to know. This, right here, can just be for us.”

Aziraphale’s heart thumped and he just had to pull Crowley into a soft and tender kiss. 

“Just for us. I like that.”

“Me too, angel,” Crowley whispered against his lips. “Me too.”