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Chapter Text

Aziraphale sighed to himself as he looked at the Tabula board, contemplating his next move. Other patrons in the tavern drank merrily with friends, but it held little interest for him. Just more of the endless din of Rome as humanity swirled in an endless symphony. He loved humanity as a whole, admired their ingenuity and artistry as civilization evolved, but he never felt entirely connected to it. There was something intangible that felt just out of reach that he couldn't quite put into words.

From time to time he would befriend mortals, but their lives were fleeting and the hurt would linger. Words of great poets and sculptures of artists might be immortal, but humans were fragile and ephemeral. And the longer a mortal lived, the harder it was for an immortal to befriend them. After a few years of friendship would come the teasing remarks about how well preserved he was; then a few years after that, questions that were beyond what he was permitted to explain. Miracles would stave questions off easily enough, but unless Aziraphale was officially ordered to stay in an area for a prolonged period of time, he was reprimanded for frivolity.

"Friendship is not part of the Ineffable Plan," Gabriel quipped when Aziraphale tried to explain to him once how lonely his job was.

He was feeling sorry for himself and while not a sin per se, it was needlessly indulgent. Aziraphale forced a smile and picked up a stone on the Tabula board and moved it. Gabriel was right, if Her plans included a friend, She would have a sent him one.

His fingers brushed another stone and then he froze as a voice from the far end penetrated through the cacophony. The voice was not particularly loud, but it was instantly recognizable as the man spoke.

"What have you got?"

A wave of joy washed over him and Aziraphale suddenly felt as uneasy as he did excited. He dropped the stone carelessly on the board, his game forgotten and he stood up. As he made his way from the tables to the bar where the voice came from, he stubbed his toe on a chair, but barely paused as the wood hit his flesh through the leather strap of his sandal. Pain flickered and dissipated as he continued eagerly.

Approaching the dark clad figure, he tried to reign in his enthusiasm as he greeted him, "Crawly? Crowley."

***

Crowley walked into the tavern and sank exhausted on an empty stool at the bar. He’d just left the palace after three miserable days in the company of Caligula. Hell had sent him to tempt the emperor, but it had been a waste of time. The self proclaimed living god was quite mad and the tired demon suspected living on borrowed time.

Hate and thinly veiled contempt wove throughout the palace from the Praetorian Guard sworn to protect him. Anger ebbed from the Senate into the streets as Caligula converted the palace into a brothel and demanded the wives of the Senators serve as whores. Rome was scarcely a city of innocence, but there was only so much people would stand for. Crowley had seen and experienced things in the palace he wouldn’t even wish on Hastur. And that was saying something.

A barmaid approached and he asked, “What have you got?” Then he amended, “Give me a jug of whatever you think is drinkable.”

It didn’t really matter, as long as he could get blind drunk and forget the past few days. The woman gave him a jug of wine and he reached into an empty coin purse, miracling a couple of sesterces. The coins slipped through his fingers as he heard a cheerful voice call out.

“Crawley- Crowley?”

The first voice he'd ever heard on earth, the one he'd never forget, Aziraphale. He looked up at him through dark lenses, grateful for the barrier they afforded him. It was one of his first inventions and definitely one of the best in his opinion. Strange looks for the unusual accessory were easier to deal with than the looks his eyes tended to draw. He slipped four sesterces to the barmaid, to cover them both. Wordlessly she got another jug and stoneware cup and poured.

"Well," the blond angel said taking a seat at the bar beside him. "Fancy running into you here."

He looked so genuinely happy to see him and it hurt. Aziraphale had an innocence that was hard to be around when he felt only the normal burden of his fall. Having spent days wallowing in depravity, it hurt to be in the presence of something so pure. Cleaning his body had been a matter of snapping his fingers, but his soul if he had one was another matter. Never had he felt more unworthy and lowly in the presence of the angel than he did in that moment.

"Still a demon?"

The question was undoubtedly meant as innocuous small talk; but after the last few days it rubbed him the wrong way and he snapped. "What kind of stupid question is that, still a demon? What else am I going to be an aardvark?"

Crowley looked away, mentally kicking himself for being rude and for everything that had transpired in Rome leaving him feeling this way.

Beside him, Aziraphale raised his cup and said, "Saluteria."

Although the demon didn't feel like toasting, he brought his cup up to clink against the angel's, then drank silently. His mood was dark, but he didn't feel good about hurting his companion's feelings.

"In Rome long?" Aziraphale inquired hesitantly and drank.

"Just nipped in for a quick temptation." It wasn't a lie exactly, but the complete truth wasn't needed, Crowley decided. "You?"

He began ramble enthusiastically. "I thought I'd try Petronius' new restaurant. I hear he does remarkable things to oysters."

"I've never eaten an oyster," Crowley replied unsure whether he was being conversational or hoping to be invited along even as the words were leaving his lips.

"Oh." Aziraphale smiled and began to enthuse. "Oh well then let me tempt you to-" Then the smile fell and he began to stammer, "Oh no- no that's your job isn't it?"

Crowley took a drink. The sensible thing would have been to tease Aziraphale as he blushed and send him storming off. Or at the very least to imply he had a sexual assignation planned, make him blush further and to leave him to sooth his ruffled feathers. Every demonic option played in his head and dissipated into the ether as he looked at his angelic companion. This was the closest to happy he'd felt in a long time and he couldn't bring himself to end the evening.

"What if we put aside your lot and mine for tonight?" Crowley suggested. "What if we got dinner as friends?"

"Friends?" Aziraphale murmured softly as he considered the word.

It was the first time in over four thousand years of knowing each other that either had spoken the word aloud. The word hung in the air for mere seconds, but it felt as if it echoed unendingly when Aziraphale repeated it back to him. Not since his million light year free fall into a lake of sulphur had time frozen so completely for him nor loomed so terrifyingly. Demons didn't have friends. They didn't like or trust each other, let alone make friends. And yet somehow his natural enemy was the only being he trusted in the entire universe.

Had he not been so exhausted, both mentally and physically, he never would have admitted aloud he thought of Aziraphale as a friend let alone mentioned it to him. Obviously it was a mistake. Perhaps in a couple hundred years he might repair the damage. His mind searched desperately for something to say so he could escape to nurse his wounds. Crowley stood up on unsteady feet as his eyes darted around behind his dark lenses nervously.
“What a marvelous notion!" Aziraphale exclaimed and stood up as well.

Crowley's legs might have given out from under him at that moment if Aziraphale hadn't grabbed his arm. Everything was swimming around him as the angel lead him out of the tavern and through the streets of Rome. Unaware of the demon's shocked state and quite pleased with the prospect of introducing him to one of his favorite cuisines, Aziraphale babbled happily about oysters and the times he'd eaten them.

Gradually, Crowley steadied and listened as they walked to Petronius' restaurant. At one point, Aziraphale paused in his discussion of the merits of different types of oysters and looked at his hand on Crowley's arm. He started to withdraw his arm and began to apologize, but was interrupted by a group of men spilling out into the street engaged in a drunken brawl. Crowley grabbed Aziraphale around the waist and spun him out of the path of a punch that missed it's target. It landed in a dull thud on the back of his shoulder as he shielded his angelic companion.

"Crowley! Are you hurt?”

Annoyed more than injured, Crowley snapped his fingers and a clear path through the men opened up. "I'm fine, angel."

He crooked his elbow and held it out slightly to prove his shoulder was fine. Aziraphale misunderstood and slipped his arm through Crowley's once more. As physical contact went, taking someone's arm was one of the more innocent choices. God, or rather the universe only knew it was the most innocent touching Crowley had ever experienced in his time on earth. Hell didn't care about feelings and Crowley was expected to seduce and perform whatever sexual acts the job demanded. So why did this feel so differently?

It was a touch that should have barely registered and yet he felt as if every nerve in his body was alive. The touch on his wrist earlier when Aziraphale had dragged him out of the tavern had been a shock. He was surprised the angel would willingly touch him; they'd only had small accidental touches since he first was sheltered by him in Eden. This time as Aziraphale took his arm, there was an intensity that hadn't been there before. He lifted his free hand and covered Aziraphale's arm with his hand, as if to hold him and the feeling there.

A few minutes later, they arrived at their destination. Most restaurants in Rome fell into one of two categories. Thermopolia which catered to the lower class Romans who didn't have kitchens; they offered cheap food that patrons either took away with them or they stood and ate amongst the other customers. Seating was limited to unheard of. Popina, like the tavern they'd just come from, also catered to the lower class and, unknown to Aziraphale, often to the criminal class. The elite of Rome dined or entertained others of their status in their homes. Dining was an art form reserved for the wealthiest in the city.

Petronius' restaurant stood out in that it offered some of the finest cuisine in the city, catering to an upscale clientele, and it's location. Situated between two of Rome's most upscale brothels, it was a place of semi-secret assignations between Senators and their lovers of both sexes. Where the wealthiest merchants could indulge one appetite after indulging another. In short, it was a perfect storm of hedonism, swirling around the restaurant. Crowley recognized the location and reluctantly withdrew his hand from Aziraphale's and allowed him to remove his hand from his arm. His reputation in Rome was well known, but he didn't want to harm Aziraphale's if he was going to be returning to the city in the near future.

Aziraphale seemed unaware of the nature of the area and smiled with pleasant obliviousness at a young man who stared over the shoulder of a portly Senator at the newcomers from his dining couch. Crowley snapped his fingers and Petronius himself appeared to greet them. Miraculously, one of their finest private dining rooms was available. Private dining rooms were areas separated by columns and draped with swathes of sheer fabric creating a bit of privacy from the other patrons.

Occasionally a soft moan or groan emanated from one of the private dining rooms, but Aziraphale was either innocent of any knowledge of what was going on or chose to ignore it. It was apparently an accepted practice, as the dining room they were shown had only one dining couch for them to share. As part of the dining experience, Romans would recline on a couch as they ate various delicacies. It wasn't unheard of for two people to share a couch, particularly if they were married or related, but sitting so close to the angel seemed overwhelming.

Crowley sat carefully at the end opposite Aziraphale and watched as he spoke to Petronius and ordered for them.

***

Aziraphale ordered several courses for them including wine. He looked at Crowley to see if he had any objections or suggestions, but he merely waved his hand dismissively and shifted uneasily at one end of the dining couch. Petronius assured them their food would arrive soon and left them alone. For several minutes, he smiled awkwardly and tried to think of something to say. He was afraid of upsetting Crowley again the way he had earlier in the tavern when he’d asked if he was still a demon.

They sat in silence as a server bearing a bowl of water with lemon slices in it and a linen cloth for their hands arrived. After they washed their hands, the wine arrived and they both relaxed slightly as they drank.

"Much better," Crowley pronounced after draining his cup.

"Agreed," Aziraphale nodded. He set his cup down on the table and took the ornate pitcher from the table to refill both their glasses. "Sometimes I miracle wine to improve it. But this probably doesn't need it."

"Huh? Never would have thought of that. I'm surprised your lot would go in for that sort of thing."

"I thought you said we had no lots tonight, that we were here as friends."

"Sorry. I don't get a lot of practice with the social graces," Crowley said."

"I don't either, I'm afraid." Aziraphale hesitated and then apologized, "I'm sorry I upset you earlier. I didn't think when I made that demon comment."

"Don't fret about it. I'm just in a mood. It's been a rough few days."

"Just a quick temptation, eh?"

Crowley sighed and shifted slightly in his seat. He wasn't quite his relaxed self, but he seemed less rigid than he had when they first sat down. "It was supposed to be a few simple words of temptation for Caligula. But he hardly needs encouragement and I ended up stuck in his company for three days at the palace."

"Oh." Aziraphale had heard stories about the Emperor and that he was given to all matter of perversion. It seemed like the sort of thing hell would laud and enjoy. But Crowley looked almost sad. "Well, at least it's over and you can send a positive report back to head office."

"Probably get a commendation." A bitter expression twisted the demon's handsome features.

Crowley was handsome, Aziraphale thought. Perhaps he would even go as far as to call him beautiful. The light of the oil lamps burnished his short red hair into a crown of flames. Hellfire could destroy an angel, but his fingers ached to remove the silver wreath from his hair and run his fingers through it. Aziraphale didn't know what the strange thing hiding his demonic eyes was, but he'd always found himself fascinated by his eyes. According to Gabriel, most demons had eyes as dark as their souls had been before they fell. Sometimes he wondered if Crowley's halo had been hidden within his eyes, a golden light of the divine that had never been extinguished.

Friends! He'd called them friends! It was something that had been unspoken between them, but hearing Crowley call him that had made it seem somehow more real. Of all the pleasures on earth, spending time with Crowley made him happier than every meal he'd ever enjoyed combined.

A demon's company was a dangerous pleasure to indulge in, but this was Crowley. And Aziraphale had been only too happy to give in when he'd proposed they have dinner together. Crowley seemed troubled and he didn't know how to make him feel better. Angels were supposed to bring comfort to humans and serve Her, but surely they were allowed to comfort demons. Or at least ones like Crowley who seemed to still have a light inside them.

Aziraphale struggled to think of what to say, but was temporarily reprieved by the appearance of a server who came with a tray laden with an assortment of olives and hard boiled quail eggs. The low table sat near Aziraphale's end and he gestured to the tray.

"You go ahead, angel."

He tasted one of the ripe olives. Petronius had served them lightly seasoned in a way that set the flavor off to perfection. Crowley seemed focused on his wine, but he hated to see him not try one.

Selecting a particularly plump and lovely olive, Aziraphale ordered, "Open your mouth and try this."

A look of amusement flickered across Crowley's face, but he complied. Despite his slight slouch, he was still a bit taller than Aziraphale. The angel got up on his knees to press the shiny black olive into Crowley's mouth. A tiny fleck of seasoning clung to the demon’s lip and Aziraphale reached with his thumb to brush it away. As his thumb whisked the speck away, a funny feeling washed over him. He hadn't been so close to Crowley since he'd sheltered him with his wing in Eden 4000 years ago.

The sensation was strange. An urge to touch his lips to Crowley's rose up in his mind and he felt a flicker of something extraordinary deep inside his stomach. A hunger? What was that? It was quite mystifying. Absorbed in his thoughts, he was drawn suddenly back to reality as Crowley said his name.

"Aziraphale?"

"Sorry, I-"

He pulled back suddenly and started to lose his balance. Aziraphale would have fallen if Crowley hadn't wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. As soon as he was seated firmly once more, the hands withdrew and he felt oddly bereft.

"Careful there, angel. Can't have you getting injured during a truce, now can I?"

He nodded in agreement and slid back to his end of the dining couch. The olives glistened in the soft light and he took one and ate it. This time he barely tasted it, but it helped him to feel grounded. Hesitantly, he looked at Crowley who smiled at him softly.

Aziraphale relaxed once more. His friend hadn't noticed anything amiss and really what had happened? He'd fed Crowley an olive and almost fell. It wasn't like they'd done anything wrong. The strange sensation had passed and everything was fine once more. Perhaps the feeling was something he'd imagined. Digging into the olives, he selected another to eat and sighed with pleasure.

"Help yourself," he told Crowley. "We could slide the table closer to you."

"That's all right. You enjoy. I can reach over you if I wish."

Crowley didn't reach for any more olives, though he did reach for the wine pitcher and snapped his fingers so a server magically appeared with another pitcher of wine. He poured for both of them and Aziraphale noted as he took a sip that the already excellent wine was even better this time around.

"Miracling the wine, you wily serpent?"

"Just a harmless experiment."

Taking another sip, the wine was superb, he had to hand it to Crowley. He 'd done a better job his first time out than Aziraphale had managed with practice. Not that he would give his demonic companion the satisfaction of knowing that, but still he had to admit, "I'd say the experiment was a success."

A rare smile of genuine pleasure etched Crowley's face and he raised his cup. "Saluteria."

"Saluteria!" Aziraphale smiled back and toasted with him. He felt almost giddy as he drank.

***
Crowley had never eaten with Aziraphale before. Or rather, he'd never watched him eat before. Rome was famous for it's controlled gluttony, but he'd never witnessed anyone take such pleasure in eating before. It wasn't gluttony, merely honest and genuine pleasure. Aziraphale's passion for food was innocent, but the sounds of enjoyment he made from time to time were anything but. Usually he did the tempting, but oblivious to the effect he was having, Aziraphale was doing an excellent job of temptation.

"Oh dear, I'm afraid I'm eating most of these. Do help me out, Crowley," Aziraphale urged him.

He'd swallowed the olive Aziraphale fed him without chewing it or even tasting it because he'd been so shocked when the angel had touched his lips. The sensation of his touch lingered softly like a secret whispered between them. Gingerly, Crowley ate another olive, but it didn't make him feel the way his angelic friend sounded as he indulged in them. However, he was enjoying vicariously and couldn't remember an evening he'd enjoyed more.

"You have the rest, angel," he insisted. Aziraphale's expression looked slightly uncertain, so he added, "I'm holding out for those oysters you've told me about."

Happy with that, Aziraphale polished off the remaining olives and the quail eggs that Crowley couldn't bring himself to even try. A server appeared to take their empty tray and promised to bring more wine along with their oysters.

As promised, the server returned carrying a tray of oysters and another server accompanied him with a pitcher of wine to replace the nearly empty one on their table. The oysters looked sinister to Crowley, the shiny gray meat on the shells in contrast to the pristine white bed of snow they were resting on.

"They're already detached from the shells and ready to eat," the server told them before leaving them to enjoy their meal.

"You can sprinkle salt, lemon juice, or the sauce Petronius is famous for, " Aziraphale said when they were alone again. "Or any combination you like."

"Why don't you show me how it's done," Crowley suggested as he eyed the oysters warily.

Aziraphale spooned some of the sauce onto one of the oysters, then tipped the shell so the oyster slid into his mouth. Apparently he approved from the way he closed his eyes and smiled in delight.

"Absolutely delicious! The sauce truly is remarkable. You have to try it Crowley. It's got white pepper, lovage and vinegar and I'm not sure what but it's heavenly!"

Unable to bring himself to try the oysters just yet, Crowley scooped a bit of snow on his fingers and added a dot of the sauce to it, then licked it. The sauce wasn't bad, but he preferred the pristine snow that had been brought from the mountains at great cost.

"Did I do something wrong?" Crowley asked as Aziraphale stared at him as his tongue passed over his fingers.

"N-no. Of course not. It's just your tongue is quite-"

"Sorry, I forget sometimes." He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. His tongue was only good for bringing pleasure to humans he didn't care about. What had he been thinking, licking crystals of snow in front of Aziraphale?!

"You've nothing to apologize for, my dear. I was merely surprised is all."

Crowley was still embarrassed and mumbled, "It's weird. Like my eyes. Just forgot myself. It's easier to hide that than my eyes."

"Hide your-" Aziraphale trailed off and stared at Crowley. His expression went from confused to horrified. "Oh dear! You never need to hide from me, Crowley! Is that why you're wearing those strange things over your eyes?"

"Easier than people staring."

"Well, I like your eyes very much. And your tongue too- Well, that doesn't sound right, but you know what I mean. I thought the snow with sauce looked quite tasty. Do stop laughing!"

"Sorry, angel." Crowley removed the strange thing shading his eyes so he could wipe tears of laughter away from them.

Aziraphale suddenly took a bit of snow and dotted sauce on it as Crowley had. He stuck his tongue out at Crowley and then ate the snow. It didn't go quite as smoothly for him as it had for Crowley, but they both laughed and Crowley snapped his fingers to remove a spot of sauce from Aziraphale's white toga.

The dark shades remained in Crowley's lap. He liked being able to see Aziraphale unimpeded and in a private dining room; only the staff would see his eyes.

"Thank you. I hate being messy," Aziraphale said as he daintily squeezed lemon and put some salt on an oyster, then ate it.

Aziraphale ate all the oysters and Crowley managed to avoid trying them. Both of them imbibed in several pitchers of wine and Crowley ordered another round of oysters.

"You haven't even tried them," Aziraphale protested when the next round arrived and Crowley poured more wine.

"They look evil."

"They're scrump- scrump- scrummy," the angel told him drunkenly.

Sliding behind Aziraphale and stretching out full length, Crowley murmured, "I'll have you know, I’m very scrummy and I'm evil.”

"You’re not evil! You're-" Aziraphale got another oyster with salt and lemon. "You're my friend. You're my best- bestamest friend."
He ate the oyster and fell back against the couch, facing the ceiling.

"You're drunk," Crowley informed him. "And you have salt on your face."

He gently rubbed his thumb over Aziraphale's lips and then licked the salt from his thumb. Aziraphale watched with interest, his eyes glassy.

"Still have a bit of salt right there." He ran his thumb over the spot then froze in shock as Aziraphale pressed the lightest kiss to his thumb.

"I like you," Aziraphale purred.

"I think you need to sober up."

The angel pouted slightly. "No! Not unless you try an oyster!"

"Very well, fix one however you think I'll like it and I'll eat it."

Aziraphale sat up. Or rather he did after two unsuccessful attempts. Crowley didn't move, his head was reeling and he reluctantly started to sober himself up. It was amusing seeing his virtuous friend loosen up, but Crowley didn't want to take advantage of the situation. How Hastur and Ligur would laugh at him now, he thought as he made a face from the awful taste of sobering up.

Suddenly, Aziraphale turned around and climbed on top of Crowley. The angel was drunkenly holding an oyster and seemed determined to feed it to him personally. It was one of the most unbearable moments since Crowley been on earth. Aziraphale was straddling his thigh as he held the oyster in one hand, his other hand was threading behind Crowley's head and his fingers were running through his hair.

An involuntary gasp of arousal escaped his lips and Aziraphale tipped the oyster into Crowley's mouth. The oyster was absolutely caked with salt, but he still tasted some of it and decided he didn't like oysters. But Aziraphale pressed against his body was something he liked far more than he cared to admit.

Aziraphale moved off of him, then slid beside him and stared at Crowley. Every demonic urge rose up and warred within him. Lust was singing throughout his body and he hated himself for it. His angel was good and pure, Crowley shouldn't even think of touching the hem of his toga. Wrath and envy surfaced, he envied Aziraphale his unblemished flesh and a part of him resented him for it. Pride, oddly enough, was ebbing through him; that an angel would trust him enough to be so vulnerable with him. And a greedy urge to hold onto this moment and these feelings and never let go danced within him. Five of the deadly sins swirling in a vortex of need.

Crowley allowed himself to briefly caress Aziraphale's cheek with his fingers. Aziraphale was too drunk to remember and Crowley allowed himself to memorize every line of his face before pulling away. He stood up and pulled Aziraphale into a semi upright position. Taking a bit of snow from the tray in his hand, he ran it along the angel's face. The cold stirred him a bit.

"Aziraphale, you need to sober up. Let's get some dessert.”

Aziraphale grumbled a bit, then complied and sobered up. He made a face and Crowley snapped his fingers. A server appeared with dessert and took their oyster tray away. Dessert was a clever concoction of snow that had been flavored with sweetened fruit and wine.

“Divine!” Aziraphale pronounced after a bite.

Crowley sat carefully at the other end of the dining couch and put his eye cover back on before trying the dessert. Sweet and cold, it helped calm his frayed nerves.

“Guess we had more to drink than I realized," Aziraphale said after a few bites.

“Indeed.”

"I'm sorry, I would have liked to have talked more. Now I probably won't see you for several decades again."

Aziraphale looked slightly sad. Crowley needed to get away. A demon shouldn't be friends with an angel, let alone feel the arousal he had earlier. A hasty goodbye and at least fifty years without speaking were in order.

Hating himself even as he spoke, Crowley asked, "Can I tempt you to come with me to Naples tomorrow? There's a villa there and I thought I'd spend a few days at the beach."

"I've never really been to the beach. That sounds lovely. Will it be as friends? No sides?"

"No side but our own, angel."

"Then temptation accomplished," Aziraphale declared and wriggled happily as he ate his dessert.

Crowley gave him the rest of his dessert to finish as he mentally kicked himself for the invitation. After dessert, he paid Petronius for their meal and they walked out into the street.

As usual the streets of Rome were filled with noise, but it felt more arms length this time. Something had shifted, but Crowley couldn't quite decide what. He walked quietly beside Aziraphale and said nothing when the angel took his arm once more. Aziraphale was staying near where Crowley was lodging, so he escorted him safely through the streets.

"I'll pick you up in the morning around 9 and we can get some breakfast before traveling," Crowley suggested.

"Perfect! I'll see you then!" Aziraphale threw his arms around Crowley and hugged him. “I’m ever so excited about this!”

Crowley froze in place until Aziraphale let go. "Night angel."

As soon as Aziraphale went inside, Crowley stumbled through the streets towards his accommodations. He felt like he'd been knocked out of his body, like he was about to discorporate. He made his way into his lodgings, a rather luxurious apartment that had a large balcony covered with plants. Still feeling disjunct, he removed his eye covering and placed it on a table, then he removed his black toga and draped it over a chair. Wearing only his tunic that fell mid thigh, he walked out onto his balcony and let a cool breeze wash over him.

For three days at the palace he'd been touched endlessly. For thousands of years and countless temptations, he'd seduced and had sex with humans. Being one of the few demons whose flesh hadn't been hideously corrupted by the fall, he was hell's go to choice when it came to matters of the flesh. It didn't matter what he felt about it or if he wanted to. So why in the name of all that was holy and unholy, had he felt so drawn to Aziraphale?

He'd felt more in a simple touch of the arm than any sexual act. And when Aziraphale had embraced him, he'd felt such warmth. Not lust exactly, though he certainly had felt that throughout the evening. But something else. Something more? What was it?

And for that matter why?

Why did an incidental touch or a friendly touch mean so much more than what he did for his job?

Was that it?

Aziraphale touching him hadn't been part of his job. It wasn't an order or something expected. Some of it had been an accident, but what about those touches that hadn't been? Those had been powerful. He'd wanted them.

"I wanted them," Crowley murmured aloud and in amazement. Aziraphale was the first and only being he could ever remember being touched by that he wanted to be touched by. It wasn't something indifferent or undesirable, Crowley had craved Aziraphale's touch. It wasn't just lust, though heaven knew he'd felt desire. Tonight, something had surfaced that had always been there from the first time he'd met Aziraphale in the garden, but never had been able to define before.

“I wanted him. I do want him. I love- Oh no! Oh God no. No! No! No!"

He was a demon. Demons didn't love. It couldn't be love. That wasn't what he felt. That warm feeling when Aziraphale hugged him wasn't love! This wasn't happening. Couldn't happen. And yet the awful truth was undeniable.

Crowley loved Aziraphale and had invited him to Naples tomorrow.

"Oh God, what have I done?"

Sinking to his knees he stared up at the stars...

Chapter Text

Morning came clear and bright. Sleep had eluded Crowley. While sleep wasn't necessary for him, he enjoyed indulging. But last night was a rare night he was unable to quiet his mind sufficiently to fall asleep. All he could think of was Aziraphale and his awful realization.

Demons didn't love each other. They didn't love humans. And most definitely under no circumstances did they ever love angels. A demon wasn't supposed to love, period. And yet he loved Aziraphale.

He'd spent the night trying to convince himself he was mistaken, but only succeeded in convincing himself just how much he loved the angel. It wouldn't end well, it couldn't. Both sides would destroy Crowley if they ever found out he harbored feelings for Aziraphale. And Aziraphale? The angel would be horrified if he knew the thoughts and feelings the demon had.

Sadness and fear at the start of the night gave way to anger and irritation by morning. There was nothing he could do about his feelings, but he sure as heaven didn't have to like it. And he wasn't about to let Aziraphale find out.

The sun shining onto the terrace suggested it was nearly time to pick up Aziraphale, so Crowley snapped his fingers and his black toga was draped perfectly over his tunic. He picked up the dark eye shades and put them on before sweeping out the door and making his way into the crowded streets of Rome.

As crowded as the streets were at night, they were even more so during the day. Most of the citizens were walking against Crowley's path, no doubt headed to latest barbaric entertainment at the Circus Maximus. It amazed the demon how incredibly advanced and clever humans could be one moment and how utterly depraved and twisted they could be another. Rome had pipes to take out waste and yet, they paid to wallow in filth watching humans slaughter each other or be torn apart by wild animals.

Aziraphale along or not, he desperately needed the peace Naples would hopefully bring, Crowley decided. He snapped his fingers and a path cleared for him the entire way to the angel's lodgings.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale greeted him enthusiastically as he approached. He was already standing outside waiting for him.

"Am I late?"

"Oh, not at all! Early, acutally. I was just so excited, I couldn't focus on the scroll I was reading. So I came out to watch people going by until you arrived. It was that or go and try the baths."

"Best not to. The private baths are quite clean, but the public ones are absolute cesspools, angel."

"Oh, I'm glad you showed up early then.”

"Shall we go?" Crowley pointed to a path that was clearing ahead on the road as he gestured.

Aziraphale walked to him and started to take his arm. Crowley stiffened slightly.

"Sorry," he apologized to the demon, his smile faltering.

"It'sss okay. Just don't want to hurt your reputation before you've even had breakfast. There's a bakery and a wine merchant near the palace where we can stop."

Aziraphale brightened slightly and they walked side by side through the parting crowd. The noise of the crowd wasn't conducive to talking, so they were mostly silent until they arrived at the bakery. A sun bleached green awning shielded baskets of breads and cakes that were for sale.

"See anything that looks good, angel?"

"Oh, it all looks delightful!" Aziraphale's expression became rapturous as he eyed the fragrant offerings.

"I would buy the lot if you wished," Crowley said tenderly and immediately regretted the words as they escaped his lips, because he'd meant it. Scowling slightly, he added in a harsh tone, "But don't think we can carry it all. Choose something."

"Very well, just give me a moment. I guess one of those." The angel pointed to a particularly perfect roll.

"Wine shop is next door. Why don't you go and see what they have, while I get this. Just be a moment."

Aziraphale left and Crowley felt guilty. How was he supposed to act? Every time the angel was happy and smiled at him, he melted inside. In those moments, he wanted to offer him not only the world, but the universe. It was wrong and he needed to put some distance between them, but then when Aziraphale's expression was muted with sadness or disappointment, it was a hollow victory and he felt like he would give anything to take the hurt away.

They had been friends for over four thousand years. He'd loved Aziraphale all that time, albeit without fully being aware. Surely he could manage to act normally around him? The alternative was to end their friendship altogether and that left a feeling in his chest that hurt almost as bad as the moment he began to fall.

"You," Crowley snapped his fingers at the proprietor. "Give me an assortment of your finest breads and pastries, both sweet and savory. Select as if your life depended on it."

Dazedly, the proprietor bustled around and filled a basket with an assortment as ordered. Crowley miracled money, a handful of silver coins, when the mortal's back was turned and presented them in exchange for the basket.

Basket in hand, he went to the wine shop to join Aziraphale.

***

Aziraphale stared blankly at the wines. Last night Crowley had been so friendly and then this morning, he seemed almost angry. Had he done something to offend him? Demons were tetchy by nature, but he hated to think he'd done something to offend Crowley.

Maybe he regretted inviting him to Naples? Perhaps he should bow out of the trip. Or at the very least give Crowley an opportunity to rescind the invitation.

"Find anything good, angel?"

Aziraphale turned around at Crowley's voice. The tone was playful as he spoke as if nothing had transpired at the bakery a few minutes ago and if he hadn't avoided walking arm in arm.

"I uh- hadn't looked properly yet, I suppose."

"Should find something that goes with this," Crowley said and drew a piece of cloth back from the basket revealing a generous assortment from the bakery.

"Oh!"

"Sorry I was so, uh, demony earlier."

Aziraphale beamed at Crowley and started pointing to a few wines that were listed on a board behind the counter. "An assortment of wines?"

"We won't need much."

"Who are you and what have you done with Crowley?!"

The demon laughed, flashing white teeth as he grinned. "I meant we only need a bit to travel. The best vineyards in the empire await us in Naples. What's the point of the trip if we don't indulge in the finer things."

"How much do you think you'll drink while we travel?"

"None."

"And again my dear, what have you done with Crowley?!" This was quite perplexing. "It's two days travel to Naples at least!"

"Not the way I drive," Crowley snapped his fingers and the merchant instantly awaited instructions, "Two flagons of your best. One dry and one sweet."

Crowley paid for the wine, then placed the flagons into the basket and offered Aziraphale his arm as they exited the shop.

"What about my reputation?" Aziraphale asked in a teasing tone, even as he took the demon's free arm with pleasure.

"That was before breakfast, we have breakfast in hand."

"I'm serious, you ridiculous serpent."

"Everyone is on their way to the games and I know a spot we may eat in peace. Come on, angel."

Aziraphale allowed Crowley to lead him down an alley off the street. The demon miracled a gate into a high wall and they wandered into a beautiful garden with a splashing fountain. The noise of Rome was still in the distant, but it felt much further away. They sat on a bench across from the fountain under a lemon tree.

"Where is this place?" Aziraphale asked as he selected a flaky looking pastry with almonds on it.

"One of the private gardens of the palace. The family are at the games, no one will bother us or ever be the wiser."

Crowley took a sip of the wine when Aziraphale offered it to him. When Aziraphale took the pouch back, it struck him that his lips were going to touch where the demon's lips had touched. It should have bothered him, but oddly he felt a bit of a thrill. He remembered brushing his thumb across Crowley's lip last night, before he had drunk more and things got a bit fuzzy.

As Aziraphale drank and his lips touched where Crowley's had been, he concentrated on the faint essence the demon had left behind. Gabriel would be appalled, but in that moment it didn't matter. He was an angel sitting next to a demon illicitly in a palace garden and he felt the greatest sense of peace he could ever remember.

Crowley didn' t say much, but Aziraphale was keenly aware of the demon's eyes behind the lenses, watching him as he ate. He wished he could pluck the eye shades away from Crowley, but it wouldn't be proper. Maybe he would remove them when they were out of Rome. The golden eyes fascinated him and he wished he might stare into them and memorize their every nuance.

What was Crowley staring at anyway? His eyes seemed to follow his every movement. Was he afraid he would violate their detente and strike against him? Or did he perhaps think he was too gluttonous as he finished his pastry and finished another?

"Perhaps we should be going?"

"In a little while, wouldn't you like another, angel?" Crowley reached into the basket with his slim fingers and he flourished another almond pastry.

"I shouldn't," Aziraphale responded ruefully and cast a glance down at his midsection.

"We're on holiday. It's a time to indulge. No rules, just us."

As Crowley's words echoed in Aziraphale's mind, he took the pastry with a slight tremor. It didn't matter if he had one or one dozen, the strange feeling of hunger he'd felt last night in the demon's presence was back. And although Aziraphale didn't understand what that feeling was exactly, he knew it was something that had nothing to do with food and everything to do with Crowley.

A soft moan escaped his lips and he blushed under the demon's gaze. Hopefully he thought it was the pastry and was oblivious to this delicious and awful need he felt. Feeling oddly exposed, Aziraphale stared ahead at the fountain and finished the pastry.

"Wash up in the fountain, and then let's go," Crowley suggested when he'd finished.

Aziraphale stood up and complied. The water was cool on his fingers and he tried to ground himself with the sensation. He wasn't sure what was worse, feeling this strange hunger, not understanding it, or perhaps that he wanted to revel in the hunger and ask Crowley to satisfy it. It would be better once they were traveling and he could focus on something other than Crowley.

"Come on, angel," Crowley said. He gestured slightly and the gate disappeared. Then he picked up their basket.

Aziraphale watched as the demon lead him through the garden to a large statue of the late Augustus. Crowley touched the foot of the statue and it started to move back revealing a set of stairs that lead underground.

"What is this?"

"A secret passage Caligula let slip about one night. It will take us quickly out of Rome. You'll see."

Following a demon into the earth was a decision no angel should ever make, but Aziraphale found himself taking Crowley's hand and allowing him to lead him below. It was dark for a moment and then Crowley let go of his hand and miracled a series of oil lamps on to illuminate their path. Despite being underground, the walls and floors were covered in an ornate marble mosaic.

Crowley carried the basket in one hand and took hold of Aziraphale's once more. For ten minutes they walked in silence; Crowley had mentioned they shouldn't let their voices rise up through the vents and alert the staff. Then they came to a wall and the demon let go of Aziraphale's hand and reached up to pull on one oil lamp that hung on the wall that wasn't lit. The wall opened and there was a road ahead of them.

Aziraphale followed Crowley out as he snapped and the oil lamps spluttered out. The air at the edge of the city had a cleaner scent and the sound of birds was unmarred save the occasional distant roar of the crowds at the games.

"So how are we getting to Naples?"

"Chariot," Crowley replied and gestured with his hands. A moment later, a large glossy black chariot trimmed with silver snakes appeared before them.

"It's a bit much isn't it?"

"That's the idea, angel. I'll leave it where someone may be tempted to steal it and the miracle will be written off as the cost of doing business."

"Does it drive itself?"

"Now that's a marvelous notion! No messy horses, just something that goes fast! Can you imagine going at top horse speed without a horse?!" Crowley exclaimed and stared off as if he was envisioning something.

Aziraphale put his foot down, "No! Not one of your crazy inventions! Not today!"

"Very well," Crowley sighed and got into the chariot. He stood with the basket between his feet. "Up you go, angel."

Nervously, he took Crowley's hand and stepped up.

"Get ready to hang on tightly," the demon instructed and he gestured with a great flourish, drawing energy into a hellish miracle.

Four winged horses made of flames suddenly appeared out of the ether. Reins in hand, Crowley snapped them lightly and the unnatural conveyance was pulled into the air by the demonic creatures. Aziraphale grabbed fearfully onto Crowley as they took off into the air.

“But what if someone sees us? A chariot pulled by flying flame ponies is going to draw attention,” Aziraphale fretted, his eyes closed tightly.

“Horses, angel. Horses, not bloody ponies,” Crowley muttered. “We’re a hundred feet in the air, it’s doubtful if anyone will look up. But we could go higher if you wish to be on the safe side.”

“No! This is terrifying enough!”

"You have wings if you would need them," Crowley reminded him gently.

"I know it's just-" the angel trailed off and held tightly around the demon's waist.

"Here," Crowley instructed and he shifted around.

Aziraphale continued to clench his eyes shut until he felt the front of the chariot pressed lightly against his middle and felt Crowley's warmth behind him.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" the demon's voice purred softly in his ear.

Looking around at last, Aziraphale had to agree it was remarkable as they blazed their way across the sky a hundred feet in the air at supernatural speed.

"It's less scary now." Aziraphale didn't add because Crowley had his arms wrapped around him and the wicked sensation was ebbing through him, urging him to seek more contact with the demon.

"We should be there in less than two hours by my calculations."

Two hours of being in Crowley's arms! It should terrify him to the core, but instead he sank into the demon's embrace and watched the earth below with fascination.

***

Crowley was grateful when they finally neared Naples. Holding Aziraphale during the trip had been as terrible as it was wonderful. It was the first time ever he'd been able to take in the angel's scent and catalogue all the subtle nuances of it without him realizing. That had been rather splendid, as he debated which he remembered from heaven as being typical and which were uniquely Aziraphale.

Being so close he was able to subtly nuzzle against Aziraphale's hair as he talked to him about some of the sights below. The short blond curls were soft and silky against Crowley's face. He found himself wondering if the angel's hair would be tousled and curls out of place if they made love. That wasn't such a great thing to think of, especially because Aziraphale kept wriggling against him.

He knew it wasn't intentional, but the angel's backside seemed to wiggle and move against him in the most delicious and hellish way. His mind wandered throughout the two hour trip to one inappropriate scenario after another of having Aziraphale underneath him, naked and writhing. For the last half hour, he'd thought of every repellant demon he could recall to bring his thoughts under control.

"It's not much further," Crowley told Aziraphale to reassure himself as much as the angel.

He guided the horses slowly downwards until the chariot and team landed lightly on the ground. Reluctantly, Crowley changed the horses from flaming hell beasts to ordinary black horses.

"I think I'll be all right now," Aziraphale said in a regretful tone.

Crowley loosened his grip around his waist and Aziraphale shifted beside him instead of in front of him. Was his angelic companion regretting having been embraced by a demon or the end of the embrace? Perhaps the truth was somewhere in between. Love aside, being friends with your mortal enemy was a complicated thing.

"The villa is on the outside of town on the beach," Crowley explained when they didn't turn on the main road into Naples, but continued their journey.

"Whose villa is it?"

"Mine."

Aziraphale looked surprised. "Yours?"

"Bought it. Miracled up the money, but bought it. Have a deed and everything. Just don't tell anyone."

"Who on earth would I tell?"

"Exactly! The problem isn't anyone on earth, angel. The problem is your lot and mine. I like the idea of owning property here a lot more than down there and I doubt either side would be pleased."

"Won't your side notice all the money you miracled?"

"I put in my report that I bribed some senators. Merely omitted the amount I actually used. It's not like they can verify it. Most demons can't pass as human for more than a couple minutes at the most."

Aziraphale relaxed a bit and said," True. I think you must be the best looking demon in all of hell."

"Are you calling me handsome, angel?" Crowley teased lightly.

"You don't need me to tell you you're attractive."

He noted the angel's blush with pleasure and agreed, "No, but it might be nice to hear it from you."

"I hardly think it would be appropriate, Crowley."

He brought the chariot to a stop. "Angel."

"Oh very well. I think you're handsome. You outshine all of hell and every angel I've ever met. Are you satisfied?"

Crowley grinned and said, "That's quite a compliment, angel. But I was trying to tell you we're here."

***

Aziraphale's gaze followed Crowley's hand as he gestured at the large columned villa and his face turned bright red. He was almost sorry to discover one couldn't discorporate from sheer embarrassment. He looked at Crowley uneasily.

"Relax, angel. It's not like I don't know I'm reasonably good looking," the demon said nonchalantly as he jumped down from the chariot and held his hand out.

"Yes, well, it's still embarrassing." Reluctantly, Azirphale took his hand and stepped down. The moment his feet touched the ground, he pulled away and focused on picking up the basket of provisions from the chariot.

"Would it make you feel better if I told you how handsome I find you?"

Flattered he said, "Oh that's so- No!"

"Come on angel, let's get inside. Then we may debate the merits of my admiring your beauty at length."

Crowley waved his hand and the chariot and horses disappeared. He then pushed the front door open and they were greeted by a middle aged man with a Germanic accent.

"Everything is ready as you requested, Patronus."

"Excellent," Crowley said. He turned to Azirphale and explained, "I hired a few libertini servants while I was in Rome and sent them ahead."

"Ah," Aziraphale nodded and looked around as they entered. The place had a nice light air about it, although it could use some artwork.

"What is the cook preparing for tonight?" Crowley inquired.

"Roast peacock, I believe."

"Very well, Viri. Tomorrow night, arrange for pâté. I'll leave the rest to Andergos," Crowley declared. "If my companion wishes anything during his stay, see to it immediately."

"Of course, Patronus. I'll make sure a room is readied," Viri said and nodded politely at Aziraphale before leaving.

"What's pâté?" Aziraphale asked curiously.

"You haven't had pâté?" Crowley gasped.

"No."

"Tomorrow night, I'll tempt you with it. It's brilliant stuff. You'll love it. Now let’s tour Villa Daemonium."

"Crowley! You can't seriously name your property that!"

"Why the heavens not, angel?"

He was utterly incorrigible, Azirphale thought with mild irritation that melted almost as fast as it arose. Staying mad at Crowley for any length of time was nearly impossible.

"So, ready to tour Villa Daemonium?"

"Very well." Aziraphale shook his head and they started to explore the villa.

***

Purchasing the villa had been an impulse. Crowley had purchased it on his first day in Rome after tempting a senator with a bribe. The man had required a bit of alcohol to relax and be receptive to the bribe. Over the course of the conversation, he mentioned to the demon that Caligula had seized the properties of several senators who'd been falsely branded as traitors. Having depleted his treasury, Caligula would be selling some of the properties.

The senator later implied to Crowley that if he gave him enough money to purchase a particularly fine villa in Naples, he'd use his influence to make most of the senate, Crowley’s. The senator had gushed about the view being the best in all of Naples.

Crowley told the man he'd consider it and headed promptly for the palace. As he walked through the streets of Rome, he considered the man’s offer. On the one hand it secured another soul for hell. However, Rome was providing ample souls for hell and it wasn’t like anyone would ever check up and discover if the house went to a well deserving and underappreciated demon instead. Tempting Caligula was his primary mission, anything else was just icing on the cake, he decided as he arrived at the palace.

A real estate transaction was the perfect excuse for an audience with the Emperor, aided naturally by a small demonic miracle. Caligula wasn't interested in real estate, but he was very much interested in money and even more interested in Crowley. The emperor had insisted on giving him a tour of the palace and wanted a tour of Crowley's demonic flesh.

A bit of seductive charm and the demon had the most powerful man in the Roman Empire on his hands and knees. Money was exchanged eventually for the villa, but what sealed the deal was Crowley's refusal to satisfy Caligula until he agreed to sell him the villa. The sex was a simple matter of selecting the thrusting technique and appropriate remarks that Crowley had catalogued among the most successful over the past four thousand years. Mechanical and dull really, but in a way, it was easier than having to put thought into his performance.

It hadn't been too bad obliging Caligula the first time, but unfortunately the emperor was obsessed and had insisted Crowley return for an orgy that night. So Crowley hired Viri and Andergos that afternoon and sent them from Rome to Naples and told them he would be there in several days and to make the place ready for him.

His time at the palace was not a happy one. Crowley felt as if he couldn't breathe as he watched Caligula spiral through perversion after perversion and expecting the demon to look on with approval or worse still, participate. The villa, on the other hand, was perfection.

Quiet and serene, the ocean beckoning in the distance behind the villa and Aziraphale standing beside him, Crowley felt the most content he could remember since before his fall. If he could reach out and take Aziraphale's hand, it would be a moment he would gladly live in for all of eternity.

The sea air wafted in lightly and as it gently blew Aziraphale's hair, the two scents mixed headily next to Crowley. He turned to look at the angel who was caught up in staring at the view from the window.

"You're intoxicating," Crowley murmured almost inaudibly.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Aziraphale asked and turned towards him.

"I asked you if you want to see the beach before we get intoxicated?" Crowley muttered in annoyance. He hadn't meant to let the compliment slip in the first place and now he was lying about it. It was the first time he'd ever lied to Aziraphale. How hell would laugh at him if they knew he'd only lied to the angel one time in four thousand years. Lying came easily enough to Crowley. Certainly he had no reservations about lying to head office and lying to humans was par for the course. Oddly, lying to Aziraphale had never occurred to him before and he felt strangely guilty.

"I'd love to see the water and explore the beach!"

Crowley held his arm out for Aziraphale and they walked outside. There was an expanse of garden filled with fragrant lemon trees and elegantly trimmed cypress trees with a marble mosaic path that lead to soft white sand. At the edge of the garden where manmade landscaping gave way to nature, there were two large marble pavilions that had a series of columns with white linen over the top of the columns creating an open sided tent like structure. Clear water lapped the sand in a soft rhythm as they walked towards the edge of the water.

"It's truly lovely, Crowley."

"Not bad," he replied and reluctantly pulled his arm away from Aziraphale. It wouldn't do to get so comfortable with him. It felt too natural to walk alongside him with the angel on his arm. Crowley walked towards the tented pavilions to check them out.

Each one had two dining style couches upholstered in white linen fabric and a number of small pillows of various sizes. There was also a table between the pairs of dining couches.

"We could eat outside tonight," Azirphale suggested as he came up behind Crowley.

"There's a notion. Let's start with lunch. I'll go get the basket from this morning and find out when tonight's dinner will be ready." Crowley turned away, then froze as he heard the angel's chipper voice.

"I'll help."

When they got to the house, Andergos greeted them. "Viri asked I take over for a bit, Patronus. He just received news his father is ill and not expected to recover."

"Then I imagine Viri should go to him and that you'd want to accompany him?" Crowley inquired, his expression unreadable.

"If you could spare Viri, Patronus, but I wouldn't presume."

"Bugger it. Tell Viri to pack, then show me what's left to get dinner around and I'll give you money to travel."

Andergos smiled slightly and ran off to tell Viri.

"Afraid my hospitality might not be as good as originally represented."

"That was so kind of you just now, Crowley."

"Kind?" the demon hissed in annoyance. "They were clearly a couple when I hired them. Won't get any decent work from either of them at all. It's practical."

Andergos reappeared and Crowley disappeared with him into the separate kitchen building to sort out dinner.

***
Aziraphale smiled to himself as Crowley walked away. It was truly kind of him to help the two men, even if he denied it. Sometimes Aziraphale had to remind himself Crowley was a demon and not to be trusted, because everything about him was so open. For all the demon denied it and did his best to hide it, he had a lot of depth of feeling.

Shaking away his thoughts, he searched for Viri and stood outside the room he was in. Aziraphale didn't want to intrude, but he did reach out with his mind and provided a small wave of comfort. Then he returned to where Crowley had left him and waited.

"The good news is that dinner for tonight is in the oven and all I have to do is get it out and serve," Crowley announced when he returned. "The bad news is that we're quite on our own for tomorrow. But I have an idea, if you're up for a bit of an adventure."

"An adventure," Azirphale echoed and brightened slightly.

"Shall we brave a short trip into town?"

Crowley didn't wait for Aziraphale to reply and was already walking out the door. Trailing after him, the angel watched as the demon summoned the chariot and horses once more. He leapt up and offered Aziraphale his hand. As soon as Aziraphale was standing securely, he took the reins and the horses took off.

This trip was far scarier, Aziraphale decided as he clung to the chariot and finally resorted to clinging to Crowley. The horses weren't on fire, but they were maintaining a speed usually reserved for the Colosseum as they bounced down the road. From time to time as they neared town, they would cross paths with a wagon or cart and Crowley navigated the chariot past them with demonic glee.

"Crowley! You're going to get us discorportated!"

"We're nearly there! Hang on angel!"

"We could get there slower!"

Crowley shrugged and urged the horses on faster still. "Hate riding horses, but don't mind this."

"Well I do!"

The demon grinned and slowed the conveyance down just outside the city walls. He jumped down and offered Aziraphale his hand to help him down. Then he looked about and sent the unnatural horses back into the ether.

"How will we get back?" Aziraphale asked as they abandoned the chariot.

"Magic of course."

"I wish you wouldn't call miracles that."

"Semantics, angel."

Crowley sauntered into the market and Aziraphale shook his head with annoyance and followed him.

"I can't waste a miracle on going back there."

"Not a waste if it's for a good cause. And I'd say a good time and a good meal are plenty good cause."

"I think I'll look in that shop over there," Aziraphale huffed as Crowley started to go into a spice shop.

"Suit yourself, angel."

He didn't really care about looking in the shop, but he was annoyed with Crowley and wasn't about to look in the spice shop with him. The shop had a few pieces of pottery and a lot of ornately carved stone pieces. A few were large, though most were small to medium sized. Aziraphale was about to leave the shop when something caught his eye.

It was a vase carved out of black onyx. Heavy, even at a medium size and hollowed out, there was a weight to it. A snake wrapped around the length of the vase. Dark, vaguely sinister and yet- the glossy surface was inviting to touch and felt smooth under his fingers. Despite his irritation, Azirphale asked the price and miracled money to pay for it.

In the event Gabriel asked about the money he'd miracled, Aziraphale would tell him he'd needed a host gift for an important person. The Archangel didn't need to know it was for a demon. Before leaving the shop, he miracled a swath of linen around the vase so Crowley wouldn't see it. He would wait and give it to him at dinner when he wasn't quite so annoyed.

Crowley was waiting for him when he came out. "If you wanted something, you should have told me. I'd have bought it for you, angel."

"It didn't cost much," Aziraphale lied.

They walked quietly into a couple of shops where Crowley made a few more purchases and then they stopped to hear a man playing a cithara and reciting an epic love poem. Aziraphale stood enraptured as the man spoke of a forbidden love between two soldiers from opposing sides. He wished he been there for the start of it. The games in Rome with their blood and violence held no appeal for him. The tune was soft and appealing.

Crowley turned to go to the wine shop and reluctantly, Aziraphale decided to follow him. The angel looked idly at the bottles and hummed to himself while the demon began to purchase from the shop owner.

"Like that tune, did you?" Crowley asked once he'd purchased the wine and they stepped outside.

"It was amazing. I only wish I got to hear all of it."

The performer had stopped playing and seemed to be packing up.

"Wait with the wine a moment, will you, angel?" Crowley requested and sat the wine down in front of Aziraphale's feet, then darted off.

Azirphale watched as he disappeared into the crowd and went up to the performer. They seemed to be talking for several minutes rather animatedly. Crowley handed the man something and then came striding back.

"What was that all about?"

"Nothing," the demon said breezily and picked the wine up once more.

"It didn't look like nothing, Crowley."
The demon shrugged and remained quiet.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale stamped his foot when they'd walked outside the city walls to where the chariot had been and no longer stood. No doubt it had been stolen as the demon intended.

"Just arranging a little entertainment for dinner tonight."

His demonic host announced his gift casually, but Azirphale knew he'd done it just to please him. Somehow that made him happier than the prospect of seeing the entire performance. Unable to stop himself, Aziraphale threw his arms around him. Crowley snapped his fingers and a moment later, they were standing in the villa with their purchases.

"Won't you get in trouble for miracling an angel to your villa?"

"You were wrapped around me like a bloody toga," Crowley said. He stood still for a moment, then added with a devilish smile, "Still are."

"I was in shock." Aziraphale let go of him quickly with a gasp.

"In that case, let me check the kitchen and I'll get you some wine to revive you, angel."

Aziraphale watched as Crowley walked away. He was dangerously comfortable around the demon. Although he knew he never should have bought the vase for him, he couldn’t bear the thought of returning it. Carefully, he hid the vase behind a large potted palm for later.

His hands were trembling slightly. Aziraphale had never felt more alive than he had in the past 24 hours...

Chapter Text

Aziraphale stood outside in the garden and let the salt misted breeze wash over him.  It was calming to look beyond the garden and watch the gentle tide lapping the shore.  Blue waters seemed to stretch out to infinity itself.  He steadied himself in anticipation of Crowley returning with the wine.

Over the past four thousand years, they had encountered each other time and again, but never had they spent so much time together for such a prolonged period. They had been apart last night of course, but even that didn't exactly feel apart.  Aziraphale had felt Crowley's presence in the distance after they had parted for the night.  Not to mention how the demon had lingered in his thoughts.

Most nights, Aziraphale would read from a scroll, losing himself in poetry or history.  Last night, he'd been unable to focus.  A brand new scroll and yet, all he could think about was Crowley.  The confusing sensations Aziraphale had felt when he was next to him seemed to haunt him.  Phantom sensations mingled with the anticipation of their trip had left him so eager.  Shortly before dawn, Aziraphale had left his lodgings and started to walk towards where he felt Crowley's presence.  But then he'd decided the demon would think him foolish, so the angel blushed and returned to wait patiently until Crowley had picked him up.

It wasn't like him, Aziraphale thought as he stared at the endless expanse of blue.  He was almost always happy.  As an angel, he had an overall sense of well being and warmth, a calm and constant ebb of happiness.  Crowley made his usual sense of joy spike dramatically.  Sometimes he felt a sense of exultation in the demon's presence that should not occur with an ethereal being let alone an occult one.  Lines blurred with his demonic host; it was hard to remember he was a fallen angel much of the time.  There was such a light in his golden eyes, a goodness about him and kindness that was absent from the angels he was acquainted with.

"Hypnotic, is it not?"  Crowley said from behind the angel, breaking his reverie.  Before Aziraphale could react, he added, "I miracled wine and cups to one of the pavilions.  Shall we?"

Aziraphale nodded and walked alongside him.  He started to reach out with his hand, then stopped.  It felt so natural holding onto Crowley.  However, he couldn't allow himself to become accustomed to the physical contact.  Crowley would be on his way to his next assignment, as would he and it would be long years before they might see each other once more.  The thought didn't sit well and an odd sensation took hold of Aziraphale.  He felt as if a weight was on his chest and a lump in his throat.  An urge to grab Crowley and never let go washed over him.

Crowley sat down under the linen draped pavilion and poured wine for them.  Aziraphale sat on the opposite couch, wishing he might join Crowley on his.

"These are about the size of the dining couches at Patronius', I believe," the angel remarked and fumbled for his wine glass.
The demon took a sip of wine, miracled away his sandals, and leaned back comfortably.

"Indeed.  And you get your own instead of having to share one with an evil demon."

"It wasn't so bad.  I mean, I didn't mind."

"Relax, angel.  I was teasing."

Aziraphale stared at his wine.  Normally he could talk with ease but now, he felt tongue tied and awkward.  There was so much he wanted to say to Crowley and feelings that were moving in such a rapid vortex.  He wanted to be clever and charming, to entice Crowley to-  honestly he didn't know what.  It just was overwhelming.

"Angel?"  Crowley asked lightly, leaning over Aziraphale with one knee on the couch.

"Oh! I didn't realize you'd moved over here," he squeaked in surprise, suddenly becoming aware of his surroundings once more as Crowley took his cup and set it on the table.

"I asked if something was wrong with the wine; you were staring at it.  But when you didn't answer, I started getting worried." Crowley reached up and cupped Aziraphale's cheek.  "Are you all right?"

A soft gasp escaped the angel's lips as the demon's thumb gently caressed him.  Self preservation demanded he pull away.  Gabriel would be horrified, certainly.  Instead, he rubbed his cheek into Crowley's hand and brought his own hand up to caress the demonic cheek.  He wished he could see Crowley's eyes; they were hidden by the dark shades.  If he dared, he might have removed them or at the very least, asked him to remove them.

"Just feeling emotional and silly, the way angels are wont to do."

Crowley's eyebrow raised at that and he withdrew his hand.  "Emotional is one of the last descriptions I would use for your kind."

Reluctantly, Aziraphale pulled his hand back, but was surprised and pleased when Crowley caught it in his hands.

"I'm not like the rest of my kind, I'm afraid."

The demon gently turned Aziraphale's hand over and ran his thumb over the palm, tracing it.  "No.  You're much better than all the archangels put together."

"You shouldn't say such things.  It's sinful."

"Speaking the truth is never a sin."

Aziraphale shivered slightly as Crowley brought the angel's hand up to his mouth and lightly kissed the inside of his wrist.  The tremor wasn't fear or disgust.  It was that dreadful and wonderful longing singing in his veins.

Crowley's expression suddenly changed and he let go of the angel's hand.  "Speaking of sin, it would really be a sin to let this wine go to waste after I went to the trouble of enhancing it and chilling it."

His hand fell as Crowley jumped up and flounced onto the other couch.  The demon drained his glass quickly and poured another.  Whatever it was that Aziraphale was experiencing, Crowley must be experiencing something similar.  Maybe it was more frightening for him since he was a demon?  It was very lonely to be so near his best and only friend, but not be able to talk about these feelings.

Aziraphale drank his wine and poured another glass.  "You miracled it even better this time than last, I believe."

The demon seemed to relax at the turn in the conversation and lounged comfortably.  "You think so?"

"Well, it's not a flying flame pony, of course-"

Crowley began to laugh loudly and Aziraphale joined him.  Pleasure suffused him as his demonic friend laughed a rare careless laugh.  Whatever was happening, they would figure it out later, perhaps.  For now, there was an afternoon of wine and catching up ahead of them.

***

"You're going to have to stop drinking or else sober up," Crowley admonished in a teasing tone.  He removed his eye shades to look at Aziraphale.

"Why ev-ever would you say that?"

"We're on our third pitcher of wine and you think Flying Flame Pony is the perfect name for the vineyard we think we ought to buy together"

"It's a brilliant name," Aziraphale insisted, his speech slurring slightly.  He hiccuped, then blushed and sat his cup down.  "I suppose you're right."

"Dinner will be in a few hours and that fellow from the town square is supposed to arrive to entertain us."

Aziraphale beamed, "I'd almost forgotten!   It's so kind of you."

Irritated, Crowley stood up.  "I'm not kind.  Keep talking like that and I'll drag you into the water to sober you up!"

The angel staggered up and put his hands on his hips.  "You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, wouldn't I," the demon drawled with amusement.  He wouldn't really do that to Aziraphale, but the angel didn't know that.  Or at least didn't realize it in his intoxicated state.  Unable to resist teasing him further, Crowley grabbed the angel and hauled him over his shoulder in a most undignified manner.

"Crowley!  Put me down this instant!"

The demon stepped off the pavilion onto the sand with the angel slung over his shoulder.  He took a couple steps, then began to jump about.

"Hot!  Heaven but that's hot!"

"Put me down before you drop me!"

"Right.  Sorry!  Hot!"  Crowley sat Aziraphale down.

Whether the suddenness of being upright once more or the alcohol was responsible, the angel fell forward onto the demon.  They lay in a heap on the sand.

"You miserable serpent!"  Aziraphale giggled even as he admonished Crowley.

"Haven't been barefoot on the sand since we stood outside the garden, angel.  Didn't think."

"Oh dear!  I've got sand on the front of my toga!"  the angel exclaimed as he stood up and looked down at his outfit.  "I'll have to shake it off if I'm going to be presentable at dinner.”

"Could just miracle it clean."  Standing up, Crowley said, "Least it's just your toga.  I've got sand in my backside."

"I can't waste a miracle on something so frivolous."

"Suit yourself.  I'm going to rinse this sand off."

Crowley walked towards the sea and gestured.  His clothes were gone and Aziraphale was left staring at the demon's naked backside as he went into the water.  He walked into the water until it came up to his waist, then dove under the surface.  The surface of the water was warm, but not as warm as the sand had been.  Below the surface the water was cooler, but he didn't want to linger.  Ever since he took a million light year fall into a pool of boiling sulphur, the demon was uneasy with having his head submersed for long periods of time.

He swam back to the shore.  A gesture of his hand and he was dry and wearing a simple black tunic.  His short hair flopped loosely.  Later he would dress completely and worry about styling his hair.  For now, he wanted to check on Aziraphale and see if he needed anything.

"Get the sand off your toga?" Crowley asked as he approached the pavilion where the angel sat once more.  Aziraphale's toga was draped across the couch and he was sitting primly in a white tunic that came down a bit lower than Crowley's.

"No," he replied with a pout.  "I shook it out, but I think it might take a couple tries."

"How about we find where the baths are in this place?  You can have a nice soak or steam or whatever.  And I'll see what can be done with your clothes?"

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt.  I'm not a fan of steam."

"Me either.  Get enough of that in Hell.  Right, so shall I massage you with oil and use a strigil on you?" the demon asked in a teasing tone.  The angel looked shocked and blushed, but he didn't look horrified.  That was interesting.  "I was teasing.  Although I suppose I could do that.  I rather thought I might miracle a spot of soap for you instead."

"Probably a better idea."

Crowley picked up Aziraphale's toga, folded it and carried it over his arm.  They made their way towards the house in search of the baths.  The baths, like the kitchen, were in a separate building.  But unlike the kitchen, the baths were ornately tiled in marble ivory marble with bits of gold accenting them.  There appeared to be two complete sets with a large pool and colonnade with plants in between.  Probably one intended for men and the other for women.  A wealthy household such as Villa Daemonium had once been would have had separate baths.

"No water." Aziraphale said, looking at an enormous tub that could easily fit a dozen people.

"What temperature do you fancy, angel?"

"Tepid.  It's quite warm, but I don't want cold water."

"Very well," Crowley said and snapped his fingers.  Instantly, water started to rise from the bottom and fill the large tub.  "Check the temperature before I set it to stay."

Aziraphale started to bend down, then stopped and knelt carefully instead.  His fingers skimmed the surface of the water.  "It's perfect thank you.”

"Right, in that case," Crowley trailed off, discarded the white toga on one bench, then made a small gesture with his hand, sweeping from the tub to another bench nearby.  A pile of towels made from linen appeared on the bench.  Then he flourished his hand outwards with a round bar of soap.  "If you like, I'll stay and be your capsarius."

"I don't need you to be my bath slave.  Honestly Crowley!"

"Just trying to help out."

"You could help by fixing my toga.  Maybe my tunic.  It's a bit worse for the wear as well."

"As soon as you take it off, angel."

"Not with you standing there!"

Crowley sighed and turned around.  "I promise not to look.  Now get undressed and get in the water already."

He heard Aziraphale muttering under his breath and the soft rustle of fabric.  The demon sensed the faint shift in the air as the tunic sailed past him and he caught it in his hand.  He put it with the discarded toga on the bench, then he waited until he heard the sound of Aziraphale getting into the water.

"All modest and safe?"

"Yes, thank you."

Crowley turned around and walked over to the edge of the tub.  "Your soap."

Aziraphale reached up for it with one hand, trying to stay down in the water as much as possible.  He sniffed the soap.  "Cherry blossoms?!?"

"You told me you liked them when we were in Japan."

"That was nearly 400 years ago!"

"660 BC, Emperor Jimmu took the throne.  I can change the scent, if you wish.  I just always associate the scent with you."

"No, it's lovely.  Thank you, Crowley.  I'll be fine."

"Sure you don't want me to serve as your capsarius?"

"Crowley!"

A splash of water rose up and drenched the demon's feet.

"Very well, angel.  I'll see what I can do with your clothes.  I'll put them in the upstairs bedroom to the right across from the master bedroom.  Wrap up in your towels, I'll be too busy in the kitchen to try to glimpse a peek at your naked flesh."

Crowley grabbed up Aziraphale's clothing and left.

***

Aziraphale leaned back against the edge of the tub as Crowley's footsteps echoed away.  He was so infuriating at times, suggesting he serve as his bath slave!  The demon served no one, although Aziraphale could all too easily imagine Crowley's hands moving possessively over his angelic flesh.  Being bathed by Crowley wouldn't be a case of being served by him, it would be a case of being owned by him.  The thought both terrified and excited him.

The soap Crowley had miracled for him was much finer than the soaps from Gaul.  Smooth and decadent, the scent of cherry blossoms filled the room and the angel blushed.  It was a small gesture to produce the soap, but remembering a casual comment about liking cherry blossoms?  Gabriel and the other angels barely remembered Aziraphale's name and rank, but a demon remembered such a small comment.

"Not just any demon," he murmured softly.  "Crowley."

His face flushed further still as he remembered the glimpse of the demon's backside before he headed into the water.  Aziraphale should have turned away in embarrassment the moment Crowley was naked.  Instead, he'd allowed his eyes to rove over the slender backside of his friend and felt slightly disappointed not to see the front side, which was ridiculous.  Even if Crowley had made an effort, Aziraphale couldn't do anything about it.  He was an angel.  Angels never looked at a demon's effort, much less did something that required an effort of their own.

Aziraphale tried to push away thoughts of Crowley.  He bathed quickly.  Hopefully, Crowley would have the sand off his clothing and he could get dressed once more.  His demonic host made him feel exposed enough when he was fully clothed.  Naked, he felt simply too vulnerable.   He got out of the water and wrapped up in the linen towels.  They were large and by the time Aziraphale had dried off and wrapped himself up, he was nearly as covered as he was in a toga.

He went through an atrium to the main house and went upstairs as Crowley had instructed.  There was no sign of the demon as he went into the bedroom.  On the bed were three piles of fabric.  First was his tunic and toga, miraculously clean.  Next was another white toga and tunic, embroidered with gold on the edges and made of sinfully soft linen, no doubt produced by a demonic miracle.  And finally was a pale blue tunic and toga with lavish silver embroidery.

To make the final outfit all the more decadent, there was silver pin in the shape of Crowley's sigil flanked by a pair of wings.  It was beyond bold.  The idea of offering an angel a demon's sigil.  Yet, Aziraphale couldn't help tracing the pin softly with his fingertips.  He ought to be outraged, but somehow it was strangely flattering.

As an angel, he ought to put on his own garments and ignore the other options.  However, Aziraphale found himself putting on the white tunic and toga with the gold embroidery.  The softness of the fabric made it feel almost as if he was wearing nothing at all.  It felt decadent wearing the whisper light fabric conjured by Crowley.

There was a knock at the door.

"Yes?"

"Angel?  I brought your sandals in and cleaned them.  They're outside the door."

"Thank you."

"I'm going to see about getting a bath and dressing for dinner.  See you downstairs after a bit."

Aziraphale waited a minute until he heard Crowley walk away before opening the door.  He didn't want him to see him dressed in his gift.  It was wrong to wear it and he ought to change.

Outside the door were three pairs of sandals: the pair he'd worn, then a pair trimmed in gold and another that were adorned in silver.  Aziraphale grabbed his sandals, determined to put them on, then he hesitated.  He opened the door and brought in the other two pairs.  For several minutes, he stared at the trio of shoes before finally relenting and putting on the gold pair.

"It's not vanity.  I'm accepting a gift and he's my host.  It's only polite.  I'll wear my own jewelry.  It's not really a sin."

Adding his angel wing pin to the toga, Aziraphale felt slightly better.  He would thank Crowley for his gift of the white set, but tell him he simply couldn't accept the winged sigil pin.  Surely the demon knew how inappropriate his gift was.  It was like he was marking Aziraphale as his.

The performer coming to entertain them at dinner would provide a nice buffer.  They could sit on separate couches and eat without the conversation becoming too intimate.  Aziraphale would separate from Crowley soon and things would go back to normal.  Perhaps he ought to spend a bit of time in Heaven to adjust his perspective.  Although it wouldn't do to arouse suspicion with Michael or Gabriel.  Not that he was doing anything wrong.  Not exactly.

"Everything has gone topsy turvy," Aziraphale said worriedly as he made his way downstairs.  He barely reached the bottom of the stairs when he came face to face with his demonic host.

"Angel," Crowley murmured softly.  His eyes lit up as he saw Aziraphale wearing his gift.  Suddenly he looked almost shy and ducked his head down slightly.  He snapped his fingers and a pair of the strange eye shades appeared on his face.

Was he ashamed? Aziraphale wondered.  Sometimes, Crowley would remind him that he was a demon, almost wielding the word like a weapon to keep him at a distance.  Other times, like now, he seemed vulnerable and like he wanted to hide his demonic side from the angel.  Suddenly he couldn't quite find the words to reject the pin.  Maybe he could later or simply leave it quietly.

"Thank you."  He gestured at the white toga.

"Suits you."

"You too.  Your clothes, I mean.  They suit you," the angel babbled as he stared at Crowley's severe black toga, trimmed with black embroidered snakes with flashing ruby eyes.

Crowley hissed softly and moved towards Aziraphale, causing him to back into a potted palm tree.  As they stood close to each other, the sandalwood scent of the demon's soap mingled with the cherry blossom scent that lingered on the angel's skin.  It was strangely intoxicating and Aziraphale gazed up, his lips parted slightly.

Unable to stop himself, he reached up and pulled the eye shades off of Crowley.  The demon growled softly, but met his gaze.  Aziraphale wished he could blame this on the wine from earlier, but his head was quite clear.  He didn't know what was going to happen, only that he wanted something to happen.

Crowley reached down with two long fingers and traced Aziraphale's lips with his fingertips, then brought his fingertips to his own mouth and held them there.  He seemed to be having some sort of mental battle as his eyes shifted to a wider yellow.  After a moment, he reached down and took the eye shades and put them back on.

"The entertainment should arrive shortly," he announced with forced cheerfulness and he pulled away.  "I'm going to get dinner arranged outside as requested."

"Crowley," Aziraphale called after him.

He paused for a moment and turned back.  "You look splendid, angel."

Then he disappeared; his words almost tender in tone, echoing in Aziraphale's ears.

***
Crowley walked under the covered colonnade to the kitchen building.  The peacocks had finished roasting hours ago; he'd miracled the oven to stop cooking them and hold the temperature when they were done to perfection.  He hadn't bothered with any side dishes.  Those could be miracled easily enough once he got his bearings back.

It had shocked him when Aziraphale had removed his eye shades.  He couldn't remember someone meeting his gaze for so long before.  Humans were intrigued but it was a sly or fearful brief gaze.  Not the intense searching look the angel had given him.  Even though he had experienced innumerable sexual encounters, nothing had ever felt more intimate than Aziraphale unflinchingly looking into his eyes.

Aziraphale looked so trusting and eager.  The way his lips parted was an unconscious invitation.  One the demon came close to taking, but couldn't quite dare.  He settled for touching the angel's lips to draw a hint of his angelic essence onto his demonic fingertips, and then to bring his fingers to his own lips.  Crowley had wanted to kiss Aziraphale, but he couldn't do it.  It would have meant too much.

In all his encounters with humans, he'd touched them, pushed himself inside of them, and occasionally allowed them to push inside of him when the job demanded it but he'd never once kissed any of them.  Crowley had used his mouth and tongue and all manner of creative ways, but whenever a human tried to kiss him, he'd turn his head and whisper something wicked in their ear instead.  Put his tongue between someone's legs, sure.  Kissing?  That was another story.

He knew the mechanics of kissing, but it had always seemed too personal somehow.  Not once in four thousand years had he ever felt an urge to kiss anyone.  Or at least, he hadn't felt the urge until Aziraphale.  Last night at Petronius' restaurant, the urge to kiss the angel had begun, but it had seemed less tangible.  Today when he saw his angelic companion looking up at him with such an inviting expression, dressed handsomely in the extravagant clothes the demon provided, Crowley had felt a surge of possessiveness and he wanted to kiss Aziraphale more than he'd ever wanted anything before.  And it terrified him.

Mentally, he scolded himself to get it together and he set about getting dinner arranged and out to the pavilion.  Crowley gestured at the oven and the roast peacocks were carved perfectly and the meat arranged on a large platter.  He surveyed the various ingredients in the kitchen and thought about some of the foods he'd seen at the palace.  A wave of his hands and several savory side dishes began to steam in serving dishes.  A snap of his fingers, and the remaining bread they'd picked up in Rome this morning had doubled, and was fresh and hot once more.

A final sweeping stretch of his hand and everything disappeared from the kitchen along with serving utensils, cups, and a stack of linen napkins.  Crowley picked up a wine pitcher and miracled it so it would refill itself throughout the evening before it magically disappeared from the kitchen and reappeared outside.   Now all that remained was for their entertainment to arrive.

Crowley went back inside the main house and found Aziraphale where he'd left him.  The angel still looked slightly dazed, albeit very happy as the demon approached.

"The sun will be setting soon and dinner is ready out by the water.  If you're ready, I'll summon the entertainment."

"Summon?"

"Told him to wait outside the city wall with his cithara, and that someone would pick him up and bring him to the house.  I'll snap him here and make him think he arrived via horse and cart."

"Utter frivolity," Aziraphale scolded, his tone filled with a pleasure that belied his words.

"I think someone likes to be spoiled."

A slightly worried look crossed the angel's face.  "Oh dear!  I'm being selfish."

"Wouldn't do it if I didn't enjoy it," Crowley replied honestly.  Every time Aziraphale's eyes lit up was balm to his demonic soul.  Not the fulfillment mischief brought, but a bones deep fulfillment that made him want to smile.

He took Aziraphale's hand and lead him to the garden.  The sun was setting over the water and the sky was beginning to darken.  Stepping behind his angelic companion, he whispered in his ear,  "Close your eyes."

"Crowley-" Aziraphale hesitated.

"Trust me, angel."

Once he complied, Crowley snapped his fingers with both hands.  One snap and then a second.

"Open your eyes now."

Aziraphale opened his eyes and gasped.  Oil lamps lined a path throughout the garden down to the pavilion.  A glow of more oil lamps came from the linen ceiling of the pavilion and a series of lamps on the sand illuminated the poet who was waiting for them.

"Crowley!  It's wonderful!"

"Well, let's see if you feel that way after you try the food.  Come on, angel."

Crowley offered Aziraphale his arm and lead him from the garden to where their dinner awaited.  The poet stood placidly as they got seated on their respective dining couches.  Before he started, the demon instructed him to wait until they were settled.  Aziraphale surveyed the food with delight as his demonic host served him.

When Crowley was satisfied that Aziraphale had everything he might desire, he settled back on his own couch and said, "Let the entertainment commence, er-"

"Septimus." the poet supplied.

"Very well, Septimus.   My friend would like to hear the piece you were performing in the village this morning,"  Crowley said and magically produced a large coin purse from the folds of his toga and tossed it to Septimus.

Septimus took a brief glance inside the coin purse and looked up in shock.  It was more than he earned in a year.  "I would be beyond honored."

"Thought as much," Crowley muttered under his breath and took a sip of wine.

The poet took his cithara in his hands and began to pluck the strings in the soft melody from the morning in the square.  And he began to speak.

"This night I shall sing, not of the gods, but of a love the gods envied.  Inspired not by Cupid's bow, this love that Venus herself did envy.  A love that was neither of Olympus nor the underworld, but one of this world.  I shall sing to you the tale of Flavius and Antonio."

Crowley looked over at Aziraphale who was eating slowly, his attention solely on Septimus.  Satisfied the angel was enjoying himself, he settled back and watched with curiosity.

Septimus continued to play, a bit softer and he started to sing in a soft tenor.

"Flavius, ah fair fair Flavius.  He had hair the color of the sun gleaming upon wheat in the fields.  His smile was ready and his manner gracious.  A scholar of philosophy, he spent his days with his head among the clouds.  As radiant a soul as the day itself."

A small smile played at Crowley's lips and he looked over fondly at Aziraphale.  The words were a bit overly flowery, but they described the angel accurately.

"If fair Flavius was the day, then Antonio was the night.  Dark as Hades were his tresses and a disposition to match.  Not an evil man, but ere he was a man who saw too much of the evils of other men.  His heart wept silently under the stars each night."

That brought a slight scowl to Crowley's face.  Aziraphale, on the other hand, was enraptured.  The angel was sitting up on his couch as if the words were about to draw him right off.  Whatever irritation he felt, it was worth it to see the expression of joy on Aziraphale's face.  He was scarcely eating.

Quietly, Crowley slid from his couch to Aziraphale's.  Technically angels and demons didn't need to eat, but Aziraphale seemed to enjoy it and it gave him an excuse to move closer to him.  With Septimus there, he could enjoy being close to Aziraphale without worrying about taking things too far.  What would it hurt to feed the angel a few bites.

Silently tearing a piece of roast peacock, he brought it to Aziraphale's mouth.  The angel looked shocked for a moment, having apparently not registered Crowley's presence on the couch with him.  After a moment, his face flushed a sweet shade of pink and he allowed Crowley to feed him as he watched.

"...And so it was that they met.

Antonio's darkness enveloped Flavius in peace like the night sky embraced the earth.  And Flavius brought a light to Antonio's darkness and balm to his heart."

As they listened, Crowley gradually shifted positions until his back was against the back of the couch.  He miracled the couch so it slowly expanded a couple inches across, so he was able to gradually bring Aziraphale back to a more relaxed position.  Eventually, Crowley had one arm wrapped around Aziraphale's shoulders and he fed him with his other hand from the plate that was balanced on his lap.  He hadn't planned it, but it was wonderfully intimate, holding Aziraphale.  He slipped his eye shades off and sat them on the table to better watch his companion.  Once in a while, a particularly choice morsel would elicit a small moan of enjoyment from the angel.

"Eternally opposite.  Eternally together.  Just as the day loved the night, so did Flavius love Antonio.   And as the night loved the day, so did Antonio love Flavius."

Septimus continued to sing and pluck his cithara as the angel and demon listened.  From time to time, Aziraphale would gasp or wring his hands.

"Vulcan coveted the fire of their passion for his forge, for what creations might he have wrought with such fire?!  He offered a thousand pearls to the lovers to give the fire of their lust over to him.

'Nay,' they denied him.  Their lust was forged in the purest of love and they were determined that even a god could not destroy that love.

Vulcan then offered them ten thousand pearls and again was denied.

Angered, the mighty Vulcan made the earth rumble in menace and a nearby mountain did smoulder.  The pair continued to defy him and he swore he would destroy their fire if he could not posses it.

Undaunted and strong in their love, the men ignored him and made a home together.  They knew nearly one year of the greatest joy any mortal e'er experienced.  They were not aware Vulcan's anger was growing as fast as their love and that he was seeking out the other gods who envied the pair to wreak vengeance down upon them."

"Oh no!"  Aziraphale whimpered slightly in genuine distress.

Crowley sat the mostly empty plate aside and took Aziraphale's hand in his free hand and stroked it reassuringly.

"Would you like him to stop?" the demon whispered in the angel's ear.

Aziraphale shook his head, but moved closer against Crowley.

As Septimus recounted the start of a war that pitted Flavius and Antonio against each other, Aziraphale's hand trembled in Crowley's.  If the demon had known how close to home the tale would hit, he might have suggested something different from Septimus' repertoire.  If a fictional pair of natural enemies turned lovers couldn't survive the wrath of fake gods, what chance did the two of them have against Her?

On the field of battle, they froze as they came face to face.  Lovers met as enemies in the haze of blood and destruction.  Their swords struck then froze, as they realized they faced their nemesis.   Their own men would turn on them if they did not fight, there was no path except to destroy the other.

"Yet even in that moment, their love would not yield.

'Take my life.' Antonio begged and brought his sword back to his side.

'Nay!' Flavius decried.  He too pulled his sword back.

'Better I die at your hands that you might live.  I would surrender my soul to Pluto for you, my love.'

'And I would turn my back on every god in Olympus to know your kiss one last time.'

The battle raged on.  Chariots fell and men screamed as death wove across the battlefield."

Aziraphale turned his head and looked up at Crowley; his blue eyes were brimming with unshed tears.  Crowley held him close and snapped his fingers to freeze Septimus for a moment.

"I think this is too much for you."

"It's a lot to think about, Crowley."

"There's nothing to think about, angel," he admonished gently.  "It's just a stupid poem."

"Then let him finish."

"If you're sure," Crowley replied, then snapped and Septimus resumed his performance.

"Flavius and Antonio stood in their stalemate until at last

'Forgive me my beloved Flavius,' Antonio raised his sword.

Flavius dropped his sword to the ground and waited for the death blow, but it never came.  He watched in horror as Antonio drove his blade into his stomach and fell to his knees.

'Nay!  Antonio!  Do not leave me thus!'  Flavius sank to his knees, pulled the sword out of his fallen friend, and cradled his beloved.  Only the gods might save him and that was not going to happen.  They were alone.  Picking up the bloodied blade, Flavius stared into Antonio's eyes and impaled himself.

'Flavius!  You ought to have gone on without me.'

'There isn't a me.  Flavius doesn't exist without Antonio.'  Flavius collapsed against Antonio in a final embrace.

'Nor is there an Antonio without a Flavius.'

Antonio and Flavius held onto each other as their life essence left their bodies.  In Olympus, they were welcomed by Jupiter who was moved by their love.  He swept them up in a mighty bolt of lighting and cast them into the sky where they became stars.  The two stars circled one another in a dance.  They glow in the distant sky forever entwined, their love shining down on us."

Septimus played the end of the song.  Aziraphale had begun to weep openly and Crowley snapped his fingers sending the poet, his cithara and large coin purse away.

***

"Forgive me, angel.  I had no idea."

"It's fine, really.  It was a wonderful story."

"Exactly, a story.  Not reality," Crowley murmured.  He grabbed a linen napkin and dabbed at Aziraphale's eyes.  "Angels aren't supposed to cry."

"Neither are demons," Aziraphale sniffed and reached up to caress Crowley's cheek.  There were only a couple tears, but as he held his fingers up with the drops of moisture, the demon growled and turned his head away.

Aziraphale stared at the tears on his fingertips.  He didn't know demons could cry.  In Heaven, they said that demons mourned their loss of grace but that they didn't have the comfort of tears.  Like everything else Crowley did, he didn't conform to the standard of what a demon was supposed to be.  Gingerly, he brought his fingers to his lips and tasted Crowley’s tears.

"Don't do that!"

"I wanted to see if they were like mine.  I thought they might taste like sulphur.  But they don't.  They taste like mine.  Maybe a bit saltier and less sweet."

"You're an angel and I'm a demon, different biology."

He took the linen napkin from Crowley and dabbed his eyes.  "Flavius and Antonio were different, but they loved each other."

"It's fiction."

"It felt real to me," Aziraphale said and looked up at him.  "And this feels real."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew me." Crowley replied and he pulled back.  He stood up and drained a cup of wine.

Aziraphale stood up.  "But I do know you."

"When we met up in the tavern, I'd just come from three days at the palace committing every sexual depravity under the sun.  And damn well.  That's what that stupid silver wreath in my hair was for.  An award for my performance, given to me by Caligula himself," Crowley spat out with a self deprecating tone and stared out at the blackness of the sea.

"You didn't seem very happy for a man- er- demon who'd been at an orgy."  Honestly, the demon had looked utterly miserable.

"I was merely exhausted, angel."

"Then why bother going for oysters with me if you were so tired?"

"Becaussse you're my bessst friend," Crowley hissed.

Aziraphale closed the distance between them; lightly touched Crowley's arm.  "You're my best friend too, Crowley.  It's been four thousand years.  I know all your moods and can tell when you're unhappy.  I want to help you."

"You can't, angel.  That's the thing.  I'm beyond help and I don't deserve it anyway."

"I don't believe that, Crowley.  No one is beyond help.  And of course you deserve help, dearest.  If anything, a demon needs more compassion than anyone."

"Never say that again!  Your lot could condemn you for that!"

"They wouldn't.  Angels are beings of love!"

A bitter laugh tore from Crowley's mouth and he stared at the stars in the sky.  "Unless you ask questions or break their rules.  It's surprisingly easy to fall, angel.  Look at my eyes and tell me you can't see how unworthy I am!"

Feeling slightly emboldened, Aziraphale asked, "Is that why you hide your eyes?"

The demon shrugged and refused to meet the angel's gaze.

"Look at me," Aziraphale insisted gently.  "Please, Crowley.  Just look at me, dearest."

A moment passed, the demon swallowed reflexively and then golden eyes met blue.

"You wouldn't be my best friend if you weren't worthy.  I know you like to cause mischief, but almost every truly evil thing you've ever done has been a direct order.  You delight in causing chaos, not harming people.  Tell me, did you want to do those things at the palace?"

"No, angel," Crowley sighed.  "But it's part of the job."

"The job," Aziraphale echoed.  "You aren't your job though, not really."

"Say you're right.  It doesn't change what I've done, what I'll continue to do.  Do you think Flavius would have tolerated Antonio doing those things?"

Aziraphale paused to think and answered at last.   "Yes.  I don't think he'd like them, but I think he'd understand.  I would."

The words lingered in the air.

"Aziraphale," Crowley whispered and shook his head sadly.  "I'll always be a demon.  Even if I'm not a good one, that's what I am."

"A demon, that was once an angel."
"A fallen one.  It's one thing to say you accept me, but it's another to actually do so.  Sooner or later, you'll have to leave anyway."

"I'm here right now.  And you are, too.  Tonight there's nowhere I'd rather be than with you."

Crowley hesitated, "I suppose we could have a bit more wine."

"And more of the food you made.  It was quite outstanding and I would enjoy trying more of it," the angel declared and took a seat on the dining couch that the demon had miracled a bit larger earlier.   Aziraphale patted the couch next to him.

The demon wavered, then shrugged and joined him.  "What the heaven.  Why not?"

Aziraphale grabbed a cup for Crowley and filled it and then filled his own.  They began to drink.

Crowley was a bit tense at first, but started to relax as the wine continued to flow.  The angel ate a bit more, but found himself drinking more instead, as they started to relax.

"This is nice," Aziraphale said as he leaned back against Crowley.  His demonic companion had finally resorted to miracling a cup so it kept refilling and they shared it.

"Nice?"

Taking a sip as Crowley held the cup for him, Aziraphale offered, "Would you prefer decadent and delightfully sinful?"

"Nice isss sssafer," the demon slurred slightly and took a sip after Aziraphale stopped drinking.

"I feel safe with you."

"Shouldn't."

Crowley tipped the cup into his companion's mouth once more.  In his intoxicated state, he miscalculated slightly and a trail of wine ran down the angel's throat.   Aziraphale swallowed hard and gasped as Crowley's mouth moved over his neck and his tongue slid upwards capturing the spilled wine.  The demon's golden eyes flashed above him and Aziraphale reached up and lightly caressed the snake tattoo on the side of his face, eliciting a low groan from Crowley.

The demonic eyes flared with passion and he seemed to be at war with himself.  Aziraphale looked at him with anticipation.

"I've had a lot to drink and neither of us is in any shape to be doing this," Crowley said after several long minutes.  He placed a light kiss on the angel's forehead.  "I'm going to go inside and get some sleep.  I'll see you in the morning, angel."

Aziraphale drank another glass of wine and tried to collect his thoughts after his companion left.  He didn't sleep like Crowley did, but he wanted to be closer to where he was resting.  He snapped his fingers and miracled the remnants of their feast away and the oil lamps guttered out behind him, one after another as he made his way back to the villa.

Quietly he went upstairs and paused at Crowley's door.  The angel considered going inside, then thought the better of it and went into his room.  He removed his toga and sandals before climbing onto the bed wearing just his tunic.  From the other side of the bed, the silver embroidery of the blue tunic glimmered in a bit of moonlight that streamed in through the windows.

Almost unconsciously, his fingers reached out for the winged sigil pin.  It shimmered temptingly in his hand, a symbol of Crowley.  The pin, like the man who gave it to him, was so wrong and yet enticing, the angel thought before putting the sigil back and closing his eyes.

His pleasures had always been the feel of the paper of a new scroll under his fingers or the taste of flavors in a dish mingling tantalizingly.  Small indulgences that, while not entirely angelic, were hardly sinful.  Crowley had awoken different urges, less angelic.  Not evil per se, but the desires were far more primal than Aziraphale was used to.

His fingers ached to explore the demon's flesh.  

Aziraphale's lips parted and his tongue darted out reflexively as the idea of tasting Crowley's flesh crossed his mind.  He could still feel where Crowley's tongue had licked along his throat and the delicious feeling it had evoked.

As an angel, he'd never sought out humans in flagrante delicto, but he'd accidentally stumbled across a few.  An all too clear image of Crowley's face etched with ecstasy and gold eyes wide with passion came to Aziraphale.  While Aziraphale didn't entirely understand the mechanics of lovemaking, he knew it usually involved both parties being naked.

Every sinewy line of naked demonic flesh he'd seen earlier popped into his head.  The strange ache and tightness Aziraphale had been experiencing since he and Crowley went for oysters flared up at the thought of the demon in a moment of passion.  His own body feeling an inexplicable need, Aziraphale imagined himself naked underneath Crowley.

Aziraphale's hips rose up from the bed to meet-  the angel sighed as his imagination caught and fell with his lack of knowledge.  He groaned and stared at the ceiling.  Gabriel and the other angels would be appalled if they knew he was entertaining lustful thoughts, let alone about a demon.  And Crowley would-  the angel honestly didn't know.

A week ago, Aziraphale would have said that if Crowley knew he had lustful thoughts about him, he would have done one of three things.  Teased him, seduced him, or pretended it never happened.  None of those would have surprised him.  Now Crowley knew and all of the known variables had gone out the window.

Maybe it was because Aziraphale was seeing Crowley differently or maybe the demon had changed.  Or maybe it was a combination of those things.  Whatever was happening, it was wonderful and terrifying all at once.  And Aziraphale didn't think he would stop whatever was happening between him and Crowley even if he could...

Chapter Text

The first rays of daylight were streaming in through the window and Aziraphale was still staring at the winged sigil pin Crowley had left for him.  He'd spent the better part of the night thinking about him.  One moment, he was nearly resolved to make up an excuse and leave, deciding lying to a demon was less of a sin than feeling lustfully about said demon.  The next moment, Aziraphale wanted to feel Crowley's arms around him and to take all the comfort and forbidden pleasure his embrace had to offer.

Not once in his entire existence had the angel ever felt so torn.  He wished he had someone to talk to, but there wasn't anyone.  Michael or Gabriel would immediately reassign him and Aziraphale would never see the earth or Crowley again.  The Almighty didn't bother with trivial matters and humans couldn't possibly understand what he was going through.  Crowley was the only being in the entire universe that would understand and not judge him, but he could hardly confide in the object of his desire.

Angels were ethereal beings who lived on a higher plane as beings of pure love.  Supposedly they could make some sort of an effort if they wished to engage in more physical things, but Aziraphale wasn't sure.  It was considered an ineffable rumor and he'd never thought about it before.  But now, this with Crowley- there was something primal he couldn't quite explain.  Everything Aziraphale had experienced before told him this was wrong, but something deep inside of him ached for Crowley and to know what these feelings meant, however sinful.

Aziraphale passed over an hour in contemplation until the sun rose high enough that it struck the sigil pin and reflected all over the room.  The fiery testament to Her power shining on the symbol of Crowley's.

"You're supposed to bathe in her radiance, not a demon's," Aziraphale said wistfully.

He wouldn't leave, he didn't think he had the strength to do so.  But he had to make it clear to Crowley that he was an angel and friendship was all they could ever have.  Aziraphale had a lump in his throat as he got up from the bed and began to remove the soft white tunic and toga Crowley had gifted him with, replacing it with the white toga and tunic he already owned.  Carefully, he folded the set of clothes he'd worn last night.

His own clothes were appropriate.  They were of nice quality, although perhaps not quite as nice as the other set.  But it didn't matter.  Clothes sewn by mortals were far more fitting attire for an angel than those made by a demon.

Perhaps a walk on the beach might help, Aziraphale decided as he adjusted his toga slightly.  Had the linen always had that slight roughness?  And how hadn't he noticed the way the thread from the embroidery itched slightly.  He huffed in annoyance at the clothing Crowely had gifted him with and reluctantly put on his sandals instead of the gold trimmed ones from last night.

As he walked downstairs and headed out through the garden, Aziraphale couldn't help noticing his sandals weren't as comfortable as the other pair.  Every step he took across the marble mosaic tiles he felt morning dew seeping into his sandals.  There was a slight chill in the air, but he didn't dare perform a miracle to warm himself.  Gabriel admonished him for anything of that nature.  The only reason Aziraphale was able to indulge his passion for food was because miracling money was considered acceptable.  He didn't have any permanent earthly residence, so he had nowhere to keep any more possessions than he was able to carry.

Humans lived short hard lives, but they clung to parcels of land and passed them through the generations.  They had a sense of place and belonging, however ephemeral their existence.  Jealousy was a bad thing and Aziraphale had never really experienced it until recently.

"It's all Crowley's fault," Aziraphale grumbled and strolled from the garden to the beach.  He took care to walk just out of the reach of the soft white foam that lapped the beach.

It might not have been deliberate on Crowley's part, but the demon was indirectly responsible for all the feelings of envy Aziraphale was feeling at present.  Villa Daemonium was a stupid name in his opinion, but it marked it clearly as Crowley's and he had a real place that belonged to him.  Hell might take it from him if they found out about it and cared to, but for now anyway, it was his home.  Heaven was supposed to be an angel's home, but somehow a sense of home and permanence had always been absent for Aziraphale.

Crowley's bosses demanded terrible things of him; he clearly didn't enjoy some of them, but they didn't appear to ever question his use of miracles.  If he wanted to do something, he did it and never seemed to worry about justifying it.  Like the clothes he gave Aziraphale last night, doubtless he would never have to account for them and if he did, he'd lie smoothly and the matter would drop.  It was petty, but the angel couldn't help envying his demonic companion's freedom.

And perhaps worst of all, he coveted Crowley himself.

Temptation was his job and at times it clearly made him unhappy.  But Aziraphale couldn’t help envying the humans who'd know his touch.  He didn't know much about pleasures of the flesh, but if he was ever going to experience them, he'd want to experience them with Crowley.  Had he ever enjoyed touching humans?  Most certainly they would have enjoyed being touched by him, he thought and stared out at the water.

"Angel!"  Crowley called out cheerfully.

Aziraphale turned around.  Crowley was on their pavilion removing his eye shades.  Their?  Had he really thought of it like that?

"Popped into town and back.  Fresh bread and rolls, still hot from the bakery."

He walked towards his demonic host and felt a sudden wave of guilt as Crowley's smile faltered.  The golden eyes moved over Aziraphale and registered that he'd abandoned last night's toga for his more humble angelic one.

"Come on, angel.  It's going to get cold."  Crowley's tone had an edge to it.  "Don't make me waste more magic on heating them back up for you."

Aziraphale walked the rest of the way to where Crowley stood gesturing at a basket on the table.  Absently, he stared at the contents.  The scent of fresh baked goods mingled with the fresh sea air and Aziraphale hesitated guiltily.

"Wine?  Crowley asked and snapped his fingers.  The pitcher of wine from last night and two glasses appeared.

"Thank you.  You're up early."

"Figured you'd be up and I thought I'd get you breakfast.  Now, eat for the love of Hell."

Aziraphale took a roll from the basket and sat on the couch he'd occupied last night.  It had been returned to it's former size and there seemed to be little chance Crowley would want to join him anyway.  The demon was clearly upset with him for switching back to a more heaven approved garment.

"It's very good," he said after taking a bite.  It probably was, but he didn't really taste it as Crowley poured them each a cup of wine and shoved a cup to him in a dismissive manner.  He held the roll for warmth and looked hesitantly at Crowley.

"Cold?"

"No," Aziraphale lied.

Crowley waved one hand carelessly and the air around them heated up to a more comfortable temperature.

"Thank-"

"Oh shut it," the demon dismissed his thanks and took a sip of wine.

Aziraphale felt miserable.  Changing into his own clothes was the right thing to do.  It's what Gabriel and Michael would have wanted.  Well, they would have actually wanted him to have never spent time with the demon in the first place, let alone accept a gift from him.  But he could tell Crowley was hurt and after all the kindness he'd shown him the past two days, Aziraphale felt terrible.

"I thought I might swim later when it warmed up and I didn't want to ruin the clothes you gave me."

"You're a terrible liar," Crowley replied.

"It's not a lie.  Exactly.  I mean I had considered swimming and I-"

"You what, angel?"

Unsure what to say, Aziraphale stood up and walked away from Crowley towards the water.  He never felt more unsure of himself in his entire existence.  And every word he said to Crowley and how he reacted carried a painful weight.  It was more than he could handle.


***


Crowley watched Aziraphale wander away.  He'd gotten up early to get the choicest morsels for the angel from the bakery in Naples and miracled himself there and back to surprise him.  Last night, he'd tried sleeping on the bed and the wall to no avail.  There had been about an hour’s rest on the ceiling at one point, but that was it.  Yesterday had played in a loop in his head and he'd treasured every moment.  This morning it didn't surprise him that Aziraphale had abandoned the clothes he'd gifted him with, but it hurt nevertheless.

Now, Aziraphale was backpedaling with a lie and was actually running away from him.  He ran his hand through his hair and tried to figure out what to do.  Hell was filled with wrath and dark emotions.  When Crowley allowed himself to remember the time before his fall, he remembered a sense of unending dull happiness.  However, what he was feeling and whatever was going on with Aziraphale was unchartered territory.  Putting his cup down, Crowley followed after him.

"Angel, what the Heaven is wrong with you?"  Crowley demanded in a frustrated tone as he came up beside him.

Aziraphale tried to turn his head away to hide a tearful expression.

This was not in the demon's handbook.  For that matter, it wasn't in the angel's bloody handbook either.  This was like the humans.  All emotional and confusing.  Crowley didn't like this.  He didn't like seeing Aziraphale in tears and he didn't like seeing all this emotion and worse, still feeling so many emotions.  Bloody buggering Hell- Heaven- something, he hadn't felt so many emotions since he fell.

Gingerly, he reached out and placed a hand on Aziraphale's arm.  The angel remained frozen in place, his head turned away.  Crowley reached with his other hand and placed it on the stubborn principality's cheek.  He gently turned Aziraphale's face towards his.  Hazel eyes awash with unshed tears reluctantly met the demon's golden gaze.

Lip trembling, he confessed, "I'm scared, Crowley."

"Of me?"

"Yes- no-  I- I- can't-  I can't talk to you about it."  Aziraphale hung his head.

"I think you have to."

That made the angel raise his head and he glared slightly up at Crowley.

"We've been best friends for over four thousand years.  If there's anyone you should be able to talk to it's me.  And I sure as heaven don't want you to be afraid of me."

"Maybe being friends is the problem," he sighed miserably.

The words made sent a chill down Crowley's spine and he shuddered involuntarily.  Their friendship was the lynchpin that held him together.  It was what made Hell bearable.  Their unplanned meetings were the greatest pleasure he'd known since falling.  Crowley's throat and chest burned with a pain he hadn't felt since plunging into a lake of boiling sulphur.

"You don't want to be friends with me?"  Crowley kicked himself even as the words left his mouth.  They had such a needy sound and his voice dripped with hurt.  It was one of the least demonic things he'd said since becoming a demon.

"Oh no!" Aziraphale exclaimed, looking up suddenly.  "Not that, my dearest.  The problem is I-"

"The problem is-"

"I'm far too sober for this.  Do let's have a drink and then we'll talk."

Crowley followed Aziraphale back to the pavilion.  They sat down and drank in silence.  The angel began to eat nervously and Crowley miracled the food warm once more.

After two cups of wine, Crowley could no longer bear the silence.  "Have I done something?  Whatever it is, I'll apologize, angel."

"You haven't done anything.  Or rather I should say, you haven't done anything wrong."

"You're upset I haven't done something wrong?"

"I suppose one might say that," Aziraphale said, after mulling it over for a moment.

That was a new one, Crowley thought.

"You're a demon.  Not a very good one, mind you."

"Thanks," Crowley replied in a sarcastic tone."

"I'm sorry.  I mean, you aren't a typical demon.  Most of them focus their efforts on a single mortal and target their soul for destruction.  You usually provide temptation for anger, lust or greed on a larger scale and let the humans decide for themselves," Aziraphale explained.  His face screwed up slightly and he added, "Actually, you may be far more evil than the other demons, doing it that way."

Pleased, Crowley smiled and thanked him, "Appreciate that, thanks!"

"Suffice it to say, you are a demon in your own right and I'm used to seeing you in a certain way.  Maybe it's because we never spent so much time together all at once before, but this time has been different.  You're still you, but it's different.  You, me, everything feels so-"

Aziraphale stared at his wine cup and wrung it in his hands.  Crowley slid from his seat on the couch across from the angel to sitting beside him.  He took the cup from Aziraphale's hands and set it aside.  The angel continued to stare nervously down at his now empty hands.  Crowley threaded his fingers through Aziraphale's and felt him tremble as he looked up to meet his demonic gaze.

"I'm feeling things that I don't understand.  They're not angelic.  They're connected to you and I'm terrified."

"Would you like me to leave?"

"No!"  Aziraphale cried out.   He licked his lips nervously.  "I like being near you.  The problem is, I'm liking it too much.  I'm feeling things I can't quite put into words.  They're-"

"You're not going to say ineffable, are you?"

"Inexplicable," the angel retorted in a defiant tone.  He tried to pull his hands away from Crowley's, but the demon continued to hold his hands firmly in his.  Unable to escape, Aziraphale confessed, "I've never felt more close or alone before and it's all at once."

"You're not alone."

"I know you're here, I meant-"

"You've never felt further apart from reality," Crowley supplied.  "Like you're looking at a star a million light years away and yet, you feel as if you reached out with your hand, you might touch it."

"Yes," Aziraphale sighed and closed his eyes.

Crowley closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the angel's.  Caught up in his own confusion, he hadn't considered how strange and frightening it must be for Aziraphale.  Love was a new notion for a demon, but lust certainly wasn't.  Did Aziraphale feel lust?  He liked physical pleasures like food and wine, so perhaps it wasn't such a far stretch for that to include sex.  However, given the attitude most angels had about physical intimacy before the great rebellion, Crowley doubted there was any positive discussion afterwards.

He could all too easily imagine Aziraphale underneath him, writhing with pleasure and making the sounds he'd made when they had oysters.  There was an innocent sensuality about the angel that appealed to his demonic nature.  Lust was dangerous territory to explore.  Even if Aziraphale felt desire, the discussion might frighten him.  And the thing that was happening between them had too many repercussions already even without bringing sex into it.  Yet, a distant corner of his mind whispered demonically.

"I'm feeling the same thing, angel," Crowley said at last, pulling back and looking at Aziraphale.

"Then it must be wrong," he replied miserably as he opened his eyes.

"Why?"

"Because you're a demon."

"So?  I'm a demon.  What does that have to do with a feeling?"

"Angels shouldn't feel the same things as demons."  As he spoke, he tried to pull back, but Crowley refused to loosen his grip on Aziraphale's hands.

"I was an angel once."

"That was a long time ago, Crowley."

"Undeniably true.  But it doesn't mean I don't remember certain aspects.  For example, I recall angels were beings of love."

Aziraphale wavered and shook his head.  "Not this kind of love."

"But you're not denying it's love."

"There's no point in denying it!  But there's also no point in speaking of it either.  Nothing good can come from this, Crowley.  Only heartache for me and death for you.  Hell would destroy you!"

"Not if they don't find out!  We've been friends for four thousand years and no one ever caught on.  Why can't we just go on as always?"

"This is different now and you know it," Aziraphale said and looked down pointedly at their clasped hands.

"Friends can hold hands.  Have we done one thing that would condemn you in the eyes of Heaven?"

"No.  But they certainly wouldn't like it and what about everything else that could happen between us?"

"Could, Aziraphale," the demon said emphatically.  "Could happen.  So far we've held hands and had a few embraces in four thousand years.  That's not exactly sinful."

Raising the angel's hands up beside his face, Crowley turned his head and pressed a kiss in each palm.  He placed Aziraphale's hands back in his lap on top of the white toga.

"We're going to live until the end of time itself, angel.  We're friends.  Best friends and if that's all there ever can be between us, I'll count myself as fortunate.  There's no rush for anything more.  Time is on our side.  We have an eternity to figure this out."

Aziraphale looked uncertain, but settled back on the couch.  As if they'd been talking about nothing more serious than the weather, he suggested, "What do you say we finish having breakfast?"

"Very well," Crowley said and returned to his couch.  "Perhaps after we eat it will be warm enough to go swimming."

"Swimming sounds like an excellent notion.  Nothing objectionable or dangerous about that," the angel agreed and began to eat with gusto.


***


They lingered over breakfast and drank a pitcher of wine as the sun rose higher in the sky.  The morning's chill started to fade and the air warmed around them.  Waves washing in and out along with the distant sound of seabirds wove together in a song.  

Aziraphale didn't feel entirely at ease with Crowley, but the demon had made a point.  Nothing had really happened and they had an eternity to sort out what they were.  Gabriel and Michael had better things to do with their time than worry about what their principality was up to at the moment.  And while they would be appalled at his choice of companions, sitting on the beach with a cup of wine was hardly a sin.

"What do you fancy for dinner tonight?" Crowley asked, breaking the angel's reverie.

"I thought you had something planned."

Crowley shrugged, "I might, but I want to please you.  Anything you wish.  The world is your oyster."

"I do like oysters," Aziraphale sighed.  

‘Then oysters you shall have.”

"But they're hard to come by around here.  No natural oyster beds."

"Ah, but clever human people have created oyster beds.  The ones belonging to the emperor are just over there," Crowley said and gestured to an island in the distance.

"Stealing is wrong."

"It wouldn't be stealing.  It would be-" Crowley trailed off thoughtfully.  At last he exclaimed, "Liberating!  I'd be liberating the oysters.  Diverting an aphrodisiac from Caligula and his orgies could almost be considered a holy mission."

The angel wavered, "Maybe."

"I'll get them later when they have the changing of the guard."

"Perhaps," Aziraphale said noncommitally.  It wouldn't do to encourage Crowley to steal, or liberate as he put it.  Every time the demon suggested something wrong, he had a way of making it sound almost like harmless fun.  It was a slippery slope and part of what terrified Aziraphale in realizing his feelings for Crowley were so intense was that he might fall.  Not intentionally, Crowley himself said he'd never meant to fall.  However, Aziraphale felt like he was on the precipice of something with only Crowley to cling to.

"What now, angel?"

"It's getting warmer.  What would you say to swimming?"

Crowley gestured and the area around them warmed a few degrees further.  "Let's go."

"How you get away with so many frivolous miracles is beyond me."

"They love me down there."

Aziraphale shook his head as he stood up, kicked off his sandals and began to remove his toga.  He felt a bit exposed in his tunic that fell just below the knee, but in the water his legs wouldn't be visible.  His demonic host stood up to accompany him to the water.
"Wearing that to swim in?"  Crowley drawled in amusement.

"Well, I'm at least I'm not swimming in my toga!"

"Who says I am, angel."

Aziraphale stared as Crowley snapped his fingers and the black toga and tunic disappeared from the demon's body.  He was suddenly standing face to face with a naked demon.  The angel's eyes went wide and he froze as Crowley stepped into the water.

"Angel?"

A furious blush stole across Aziraphale's cheeks and he tried to look away, but couldn't stop staring.

The demon stepped back out of the surf and he put his hands on Aziraphale's shoulders.  He bent his head down slightly so their eyes met.  "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing's wrong!  Why would you ask if something was wrong?!"  Aziraphale's voice rose sharply until it was a panicked squeak at the end.

"Because you're not moving."

"Y-y-you- you're naked!"

"I swam naked yesterday and you didn't throw a fit."

Indignantly, Aziraphale pulled back but carefully kept his eyes on Crowley's face.  "That was because I only saw your backside."

"And my front has done something to offend you?"

"You have-"

"I have what, angel?"

Aziraphale wished a giant wave would sweep him away as he turned a deeper shade of red.  "You know."

"I know?"

"An effort, all right!  There I said it!"

Momentarily confused, Crowley repeated, "An effort?"

Aziraphale drew his hand up against his chest and pointed downwards with his finger.  "You know.  An effort."

Crowley's face contorted and he bent over clutching his sides, then he threw his head back and began to howl with laughter.  The sound echoed all around Aziraphale and he felt indigent as the demon laughed at him.

"Why are you laughing?!"

The demon stood up and wiped tears from his eyes.  "I'm sorry, angel.  Truly I am.  But an effort?"

"Whatever else would one call it?"

"Any number of alternatives come to mind."

"Whatever you call it, why now?  Did you make it just to upset me?"

Crowley growled in exasperation.  "I've had it since before I fell."

"Oh," Aziraphale said.  An effort before he fell?  "That's unexpected.  When we were in Golgotha-"

"Same anatomy.  I chose that part of me.  I like that part of me.  If I'd wanted something different under my clothes, I would have changed.  I feel a bit sorry for humans, not being able to choose for themselves.  Now if we're done discussing my effort, I'm going swimming."

A multitude of questions rose up in Aziraphale's mind, but he decided not to ask them for the moment.  Best wait until Crowley wasn't annoyed and perhaps more importantly, when he was clothed.  Silently, Aziraphale went into the water and stopped when the water was a bit above his waist.  He didn't have much practice at swimming.

Crowley, on the other hand seemed perfectly at ease.  He floated past at an unnatural angle, his head above water, his limbs sprawled about him.  Effort below water, Aziraphale noted with a sense of relief as Crowley flicked his fingers through the water, making little splashes.

"However do you keep your head above the water like that?"  Aziraphale asked when Crowley was near enough he inadvertently splashed the angel.

"Magic, of course.  Don't like my head going below water."

Wading cautiously closer, the water going up to his chest, the angel asked, "Why?"

"Ngk."

"Come on, why?"

"Because one of the highlights of falling was the pool of boiling sulphur at the end.  Feeling it inside and out.  It's like drowning.  You fight in utter darkness to find your way to the surface for what feels like forever."

Aziraphale rarely considered what falling would have actually been like for Crowley.  There had been whispers among his fellow angels about what falling must be like, but he'd never considered Crowley actually falling.  He frowned as he considered the demon's words.

"We could go back on land."

"Don't worry about it, angel.  I don't enjoy having my head underwater for prolonged periods of time.  But I'm certainly fine with this.  And I'll be fine later when I dive for your oysters."

"Crowley no!  I couldn't allow you to!"

"It's fine when I prepare myself for being under water," the demon said and pulled his body upright to stand beside Aziraphale.  "Besides, it will be worth it to hear you make the sounds you made that night at Petronius' restaurant."

Outraged, Aziraphale stamped his foot which slipped slightly in the sand and he fell under the surface of the water.  Before he could react, strong arms wrapped around him and he felt himself being pulled upright once more.  Crowley, he realized immediately.  Coughing and spluttering, his rarely used lungs displeased at the unplanned invasion, he allowed the demon to lead him towards the shore.

"I'm fine," Aziraphale protested between coughs.

Crowley said nothing, but picked Aziraphale up and carried him to the pavilion.  This time, the demon held the angel against his chest and didn't drop him in the sand; instead depositing him gently on one of the couches.  He miracled Aziraphale's tunic dry and sat beside him.  His golden eyes were wide with concern.

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale said when he stopped coughing.

"Can't very well have you drown and discorporate."

"But you had to go under water for me.  You didn't have any time to prepare."

The demon shrugged.  "Didn't have time to think, angel."

Aziraphale sat quietly as Crowley poured a cup of wine for him.  He accepted the demon's offering and took a sip.  The familiar sensation and flavor was soothing.  He stared down at the cup and his eyes caught sight of Crowley's effort once more.  His cheeks burned brightly with embarrassment and he quickly looked up at Crowley's face.

"I really must insist you forget the oysters," he said, hoping Crowley hadn't noticed his discomfort.

"My head's already been below water once today.  May as well go right now.  Unless.." he paused slyly.

"Unless what?"

"You'd like to stare at my, er, effort a bit longer?"

The teasing tone made it very clear Crowley had indeed picked up on Aziraphale's embarrassment.

"Thank you, I think I've seen plenty."

"Suit yourself."  Crowley grinned and started to walk on to the beach once more.

Aziraphale watched as the demon jumped about on the sand yelping about it being hot and cursing softly.  After a few awkward steps, the demon began to sprint across the sand.  Black wings unfurled and Crowley soared over the gleaming water towards the island where the forbidden oyster beds were located.

Embarrassment faded into awe as Aziraphale watched his friend fly off; the contrast between black wings, white flesh, and fiery hair, creating a moving work of art in the sky.


***


Crowley watched the sea below as he glided in a circle.  It was nearly time for the guards to change and the perfect time to pull off his heist.  While he wasn't looking forward to diving, he wasn't dreading it either.  Aziraphale falling below the surface earlier had terrified Crowley and he didn't like it one bit.  He'd survived Hell by never caring about anything more than himself.

Today he realized there was one thing he cared about more.  And that was dangerous.

Both Heaven and Hell could wield love like a weapon and use it to destroy.  Crowley had witnessed it countless times since his fall.  Heaven would use love to test a person's faith until their soul bled.  Hell would use love to carve the soul out of a person.  A demon in love with an angel?  Crowley could only imagine the special torment both sides could bring about with that.

Self-preservation dictated he fly away and disappear.  But instead, Crowley was getting ready to face one of his fears for nothing more than seeing Aziraphale's pleasure.

"How the mighty have fallen," he said in a self-deprecating tone before floating down onto the surface of the water.

After tucking his wings away, Crowley miracled a bag out of fishing net and braced himself before allowing his body to sink below the surface of the water.  He sank slowly to the bottom; the light above growing slightly dimmer, but still visible.  It helped steady him to still be able to see the sun's light filtering through.

Crowley knew nothing about oysters, so when he found the large bed of oysters, he gestured with his hand and opened his bag.  Fifty oysters began to float from the group into the bag.  He'd miracled the finest to his bag, so he didn't have to linger.  After the last oyster floated into the bag, the demon swept both hands upwards and he ascended rapidly through the water until he was above the surface once more.

Standing on the water, Crowley looked around momentarily before bringing his wings out once more and flying back towards the villa.  He didn't fly often.  Having his wings out and the freedom he felt in those moments reminded him too much of before the fall.  It hurt knowing what Heaven had become from what Aziraphale told him.  Once angels flew about happily with their halos ablaze.  After the rebellion, wings and halos were sent to another plane, seldom to be accessed.  When the light bringer fell, it was like part of the holy light left the heavens.

His thoughts lightened as he spotted Aziraphale.  If there was one good thing about this whole emotional mess, it was the way his darkest moods were instantly lifted by the angel's presence.

Crowley landed and held the bag up in victory as his wings folded away into the ether.

"Tonight, you dine like an emperor," the demon declared and flashed a smile.

Aziraphale smiled shyly and looked away as he replied, "It's awfully kind of you.  But you really didn't have to."

A snap of his fingers and Crowley sent the bag of oysters to the kitchen where they would remain as fresh as the moment he stole them.  Seeing the angel's discomfort, he snapped his fingers and a short black tunic that fell to mid-thigh appeared on him.

"You're a guest.  Have to make some sort of effort for you," he quipped wickedly.

"Are you ever going to let that go?"

Crowley shrugged and poured himself a cup of wine from the pitcher on the table.  Just as last night, the pitcher topped itself off as soon as he set it down.  He took a sip of wine before taking a seat on the couch opposite Aziraphale.

"It's very nice weather we're having."

"Are we really talking about the weather, angel?"

"It seemed like a safe topic of conversation."

"Since when have we ever worried about safe topics of conversation?" Crowley asked.  Aziraphale looked annoyed, so the demon sighed, "It looks like we'll have a nice clear evening.  Perfect for stargazing if you're into that sort of thing."

"I confess, I've never understood the way mortals obsess over the stars.  They're balls of gas that burn out and die.  Why they romanticize that, I'll never know.  I prefer poetry to stars."

Crowley winced slightly at Aziraphale's words.   "What about Flavius and Antonio from the poem last night?  Their love was transformed into twin stars in death."

"It was a very romantic story.  But it's not like there really are twin stars like that."

"Alpha Centuri, the humans haven't discovered it yet, but it's a pair of stars that circle each other just like in the story last night."

Aziraphale took a sip of wine and admonished, "You're teasing me.  I've had quite enough of your teasing for one day."

"I'm not teasing about this.  I designed them."

"You designed stars?"

Crowley drained his cup of wine.  Why hadn't he kept his mouth shut?  Just let Aziraphale ramble onto the next topic?  This was far more painful than he was ready to deal with.

He'd taken too long thinking of what to say.  Aziraphale moved onto the couch with Crowley and was looking at him intently.

After a few moments of the angel's scrutinizing gaze, Crowley replied, "Yeah, I designed stars.  Stars and nebulas.  Planets and galaxies across the universe.  Mortals write poetry in words.  I wrote mine across the sky."

"Show me, Crowley."

"What?"

"Tonight.  Show me your poetry.  Let me see it through your eyes."

"Don't need you to humor me, angel."

"I'm not humoring you."

"We'll ssseee, " Crowley hissed softly.  He'd never meant to disclose any of this to Aziraphale.  For that matter, it hadn't even hit him until he was talking to Aziraphale that he thought of the stars as poetry.

"What if we made it a temptation?  Tempt me with your poetry tonight and I'll pay whatever price you name."

"Bad idea to make an offer like that to a demon."

"Maybe I'm tempting you," Aziraphale countered primly, though a brief flash of concern crossed his face.

The possibilities were endless and Crowley could have easily thought of a demand that Aziraphale couldn't possibly meet.  It was indeed tempting, but he didn't like the idea of disappointing the angel.

"Very well.  The other outfit I gave you-"

"The pale blue?"

"Wear it tonight."

"And the pin that goes with it?" the angel asked uneasily.

The demon hesitated.  As much as he longed to see Aziraphale wearing his sigil, it was too much to demand and it was something he wanted given willingly.  "I won't ask that of you."

"Then we have a bargain."

Crowley laid back and stretched out on the couch.  "If we're staying up for stargazing, I'm going to take a nap."

The angel stood up and returned to his own seat.  Before he could say anything further, Crowley's eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping.


***


Aziraphale watched Crowley for several minutes.  He'd watched humans sleep any number of times, but he'd never watched an immortal sleep.  It was unnecessary for angels or demons to indulge, but Crowley had told Aziraphale he enjoyed indulging on a regular basis.   With no need to breathe, it was a bit disconcerting watching his demonic companion sleep.  Occasionally, Crowley shifted positions slightly in his sleep and it was rather comforting to the angel.

Crowley sleeping was a welcome bit of respite after all the strange revelations of the morning.

First, there had been seeing Crowley's effort.  As a demon who tempted mortals, it made sense.  But when Crowley said he'd had it before the fall, that had been a shock.  Aziraphale felt embarrassed by the entire topic, but he was also very curious.  Why had Crowley made the effort before he fell?  Had there been someone he made it for?

That last thought didn't sit well with Aziraphale.  Crowley copulating with mortals had elicited a bit of envy.  However, the thought of him with an angel?  Aziraphale didn't like that at all.  His gaze narrowed and his jaw set in a rare frown.

Then there had been Crowley's admission he didn't feel comfortable with his head below water.  Falling was terrible.  It had been discussed in only the most hushed of tones by lower angels and in harsh terrifying tones by the Archangels.  Yet, Crowley with his dry wit and wry smile made it easy to forget he'd fallen at times.  The demon insisted he'd sauntered vaguely downwards, but when he described drowning in boiling sulphur, there was so much pain in his voice.

Aziraphale didn't think he ought to ask Crowley about it.  As an angel in good standing, albeit not very high, Aziraphale couldn't ask Crowley how falling felt and why it happened.  It would be cruel to ask and Aziraphale's heart ached for his friend.

A soft grumble came from the sleeping demon and he rolled over.  His short tunic rose up and giving the angel a clear view of Crowley's backside.  Aziraphale felt his cheeks grow warm once more as he took in the sight and forced himself to look out at the sea instead.

The image of Crowley running naked across the sand, his dark wings unfurling, and then flying off, rose up in Aziraphale's mind.  His demonic companion had looked so free and comfortable gliding through the air.  It had been the first time Aziraphale had seen his wings since they met in the garden.  At that time, they had been rather haggard and missing feathers.  Now Crowley's wings were full of glossy feathers and something primal made Aziraphale long to examine them more closely and touch them.

Angels used to fly before the war, but they seldom did now.  What would it be like to fly with Crowley?  Aziraphale wondered what it would feel like to release his wings and glide alongside him, lush black wings alongside his white angel wings.  Most angels had white wings, with the exceptions of the Archangels and a few of the first angels.  Some of the first angels became Archangels, like Michael and Gabriel.  Others, like Azrael the Angel of Death, worked outside of the hierarchy in their own class.  Most of the first angels were nameless myths lost in the history of angels and never discussed by Michael or Gabriel.  There were rumors that Lucifer had been one of the first angels.  Could there have been other first angels that fell?

Aziraphale had always assumed Crowley's wings had turned black from falling.  Today, he talked about creating stars.  There was such passion in the demon's voice as he spoke of writing poetry in the sky.  Creating was something reserved for only the most powerful angels.  Crowley had to be teasing, it was the only thing that made sense.  The lazy demon who slept nearby couldn't have possibly yielded the power of creation.  And yet, Aziraphale knew in his heart that Crowley had spoken the truth.

He looked over at Crowley, who growled softly in his sleep.  The demon would frequently growl, hiss and make odd noises when he was awake and apparently did in his sleep as well.  Aziraphale smiled at the sleeping figure.  Asleep, the angel could stare at the demon to his heart's content without having to be embarrassed.

Well, maybe a bit embarrassed, he thought as Crowley rolled onto his back.

The hem of his tunic had bunched up around his waist and Crowley's effort was now in full view.  Aziraphale bit his lip and considered what to do.  He couldn't miracle the garment to cover the sleeping demon.  That would be impossible to explain!

"Sorry Gabriel, couldn't slay the demon.  But I did cover his effort," Aziraphale muttered to himself.

If he tried to pull the tunic down, he might wake Crowley and that would be decidedly awkward!  He ought to perhaps go inside and wait for his demonic host to wake up.  Or maybe he could just cover him with something.  Yes!  That was it!

Aziraphale stood up and started to unfurl his toga.  His knee length tunic would be modest enough while Crowley slept.  After the demon woke up, then he'd get the white toga back and cover himself further.  As Aziraphale removed his toga, a groan drew his attention.

Crowley groaned in his sleep.

Was he in pain?  Perhaps a nightmare?  Should he wake him?  Aziraphale fretted uncertainly and dropped his toga to the ground.  He stood over Crowley.  Another groan and this time a word.

"Angel."

"Crowley, are you awake?"  Aziraphale hesitated softly.

Another groan and this time the demon's hips undulated slightly.  Aziraphale suppressed a gasp of shock as he saw Crowley's effort move.  The pale flesh shifted before the angel's eyes.  It was as if it was stretching briefly then settling back.

"Gracious!  I didn't know they moved about."

The demon quieted and his organ calmed between his thighs.  Aziraphale was about to bend down to retrieve the toga when Crowley started make strange breathy sounds.

"Angel...  Angel..."

The flesh between Crowley's legs stirred once more.  This time, it didn't just stretch a little.  Aziraphale watched in wonder as the flesh expanded and swelled.  It stretched upwards until it curved up towards the demon's stomach.  Even the hue transformed.  Then a flush spread lightly from the base to a very deep pink hue near the tip.

Even with his limited knowledge on the subject, Aziraphale was very aware that the demon was aroused.  It was impossible for him to look away from the tumescent flesh as the recent and all too familiar ache in the angel's body seemed to flare up.  Aziraphale hand trembled and he longed to wrap it around Crowley's effort.  Maybe while the demon kissed him?

It was all so unfamiliar and yet irresistible to think about.  More sounds fell from Crowley's mouth and his hips began to undulate more.  At the tip of his organ, a few drops of clear liquid bubbled up.  It made the end of his effort shiny and Aziraphale felt dizzy.

A small whimper escaped Aziraphale's lips and he started to take a step back.  His foot tangled in his toga and he fell on top of Crowley.

Instantly, the demon was awake and he moved from the couch explosively.  Aziraphale didn't even have time to register what was happening as Crowley grabbed him by the throat.  In a fraction of a second, the angel was on his back on the other couch.  Crowley was on top him, hand on Aziraphale's neck and straddling his thigh as a demonic snarl broke from his lips.

"C-C-Crowley?"

Instantly, the demon released him and he pulled back.

"I'm sorry, angel.  I thought I was under attack."

"It's my fault," Aziraphale babbled.   Crowley's arousal had brushed Aziraphale's thigh and coherent thought eluded him.  "I was going to cover you up with my toga.  And then I dropped it and then I got twisted in it and I fell."

"Did I hurt you?"

"N-no.  I'm fine.  Really."

"Let me see your neck," Crowley demanded and leaned over Aziraphale to examine his throat.

The demon's long fingers slid delicately over Aziraphale's sensitive neck as he inspected the damage.  A shiver ran down Aziraphale's spine as Crowley touched him.  Their faces were nearly touching.

"I like your hair like this," Aziraphale said, unconsciously reaching out with his fingers and pushing one short flame-colored lock back.

"You like my hair?" the demon echoed in disbelief.

"It was so fussy and strange in Rome.  I like it like this.  Soft, like I could touch it."

"And you want to touch my hair?"

"I think I might like to sometime," Aziraphale replied shyly.  "Would you wear your hair like this for the rest of today?"

Crowley pulled back slightly, he looked a bit embarrassed and shrugged.  "I suppose."

"That would be nice."

"I'm sorry for attacking you, angel.  It's the first time I've ever slept in anyone else's company."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Crowley replied and ran his hand through his hair.  "I think I should check on the kitchen and sort out dinner for tonight.  I'll be back."

A moment later, Aziraphale was alone.  His tunic had been pushed up a bit when the demon had pushed him down.  For a brief moment, Crowley's arousal had pressed against the angel's thigh.  A small trace of the clear liquid had been left in the wake of Crowley's effort.  Curious, Aziraphale stared at it for a moment, then pressed his fingertips to it.  His fingertips were slightly sticky as he brought them in front of his face.

Aziraphale inhaled, it smelled vaguely of Crowley.  He stared at the shimmer on his fingertips and unthinkingly darted his tongue out as if to taste it.  An intimate part of Crowley had touched him and left a trace of his essence.  Aziraphale was on the edge of something that felt indescribably wrong and right all at once.

He trembled slightly and hesitated, before closing his eyes and bringing his fingers to his mouth...

Chapter Text

Crowley stood in the kitchen, miracled himself a cup of wine and drained it rapidly.  Roused from a sound sleep, he had attacked Aziraphale.  Not surprising, given what could happen to one if they ever dozed off in Hell, but he felt badly about it.  Although part of him was relieved.  He'd been dreaming about his angelic companion in the most unholy of ways.

In his dream, Aziraphale was underneath him, arching and making the sounds he'd made over oysters.  Except this time, Crowley's cock was buried deep inside him.  It wasn't the sort of rapid encounter the demon would get over as quickly as possible with a mortal.  No, this was different and the tenderness had terrified him.  They moved slowly, as if savoring every moment and kissing.

The vision had been interrupted abruptly when he woke up and attacked Aziraphale.  Crowley fortunately hadn't hurt the angel, but he felt guilty for almost harming him.  And even more so because his tunic had ridden up when he'd pounced on Aziraphale and his cock had brushed the angel's thigh.  He doubted, or at the very least hoped his innocent companion hadn't noticed.  But the demon most certainly had.  His cock had ached insistently ever since the brief contact.

Eventually he would have to face Aziraphale again.  Hiding in the kitchen for the rest of the day wasn't an option.  However, maybe he could give Aziraphale a little gift and distract him.  The angel loved food.  Perhaps a little snack would suffice.  Crowley looked around at the ingredients on the counters.  The leftover peacock from the night before had maintained it's freshness and temperature as he'd willed it to.  And there looked to be most of the ingredients for pâté.

Crowley snapped his fingers and a large tray appeared on the table in front of him.  He picked it up and headed outside to Aziraphale.


***


Aziraphale sat and stared at the water.  He could still taste the trace of Crowley's essence on his tongue.  Tasting the drops of liquid that had rubbed onto his thigh from the demon's effort was wrong.  It had to be.  And yet, he savored the vague lingering sensation where Crowley's aroused flesh had touched his thigh and he felt the sense of inexplicable need threading through him.

His thoughts were interrupted when Crowley returned with a tray laden with food and he placed it on the table by Aziraphale with a flourish.

"I thought you might like a spot of lunch," he said.

Lunch was safe, Aziraphale thought.  Safe was good.  So he asked, "What are we having?"

"Leftover peacock, still warm.  And I brought pâté to tempt you with."

Temptation, raw, sensual and primal, it swirled around the demon constantly.  Crowley didn't really need to try to tempt, it was always there, a part of him.  Aziraphale vaguely wondered if he'd always been so tempting even before he fell.  His friend didn't mean him any harm, but it was impossible for the angel not to be aware of the danger his temptations presented.

"I look forward to being tempted," Aziraphale replied.  The words hadn't been intentional, but he realized in the moment he said them that he had meant them and he'd meant them in every sense.  Whatever Crowley chose to tempt him with, he wanted it.  In a distant part of his mind, he could hear Gabriel's disapproval and words of admonishment.  But the Archangel felt far away and the demon was so close.

Crowley raised an eyebrow, then asked, "Shall I make you a plate?"

"Please."

"What would you like, angel?"

Aziraphale looked at Crowley.  The right answer was a bit of the peacock and a small bit of the pate to sample.  Nothing too indulgent and a very proper answer  Yet, he found himself replying, "I'm in your hands, Crowley."

The demon studied him intently and Aziraphale felt himself blush, but he didn't look away.  He saw a look of desire flash across Crowley's face and a sense of pride mingled with his embarrassment.  The desire was quickly veiled, but the angel had witnessed it and he felt elated.  His demonic host began to make a plate for him and he placed it in front of Aziraphale.

"Try this," Crowley said and sat on couch across from Aziraphale.

He thanked his host and took a bite of the peacock while Crowley filled their wine cups.  The peacock was exactly like it had been last night.  Although it didn't taste quite the same feeding himself, Aziraphale thought.  And suddenly an idea took hold.

"Crowley, I'm not entirely sure how one eats pâté.  Could you show me?"

The demon demonstrated, taking a thin square of bread from the tray, spreading the pâté with a knife and then popped it in his mouth.

Aziraphale imitated the motion, but broke the bread with the knife in the most accidentally intentional of ways.  "Oh dear.  Maybe you should come over here and help me.  I seem to be so clumsy today."

Once more Crowley's brow arched, but he stood up and moved to Aziraphale's couch.  The angel moved over for the demon to sit beside him rather than at the opposite end.  Crowley sat down and proceeded to spread the pâté on another thin square of bread.  Aziraphale leaned against him and looked at him.

Instead of handing the treat to Aziraphale, the demon brought it to the angel's mouth.  A hint of a smile curling Crowley's lips.  Right and wrong seemed a distant construct in that moment as Aziraphale looked into the golden eyes and wrapped his mouth around the offering.  He bit down and let out a moan of pleasure as the savory spread passed over his tongue.  On the second bite, his eyes fluttered closed and he gave a little sigh of pleasure as the demon fed him.

When he opened his eyes, Crowley was looking at him as if he wanted to devour him and Aziraphale felt the sense of longing more keenly than ever.

"Told you, you'd like it," the demon said in a husky tone.

"Absolutely delicious."

"Would you like more, angel?"

Aziraphale nodded in response.  He could barely think, he wanted-  Oh, he didn't know what exactly.  Only that Crowley was what he wanted.  His demonic companion put together another thin piece of bread with pâté spread on it.  He opened his mouth to receive the morsel and savored it as he chewed.  It was excellent, but he suspected it would never taste as good as when Crowley fed it to him.

"Have the hang of it?"

Instead of answering the question and accepting the remaining bite he was holding, Aziraphale asked, "May I have a sip of wine, please?"

Crowley took the cup from the table and brought it to Aziraphale's mouth.  Then he sat the cup down and brought the bite to Aziraphale's mouth.  The angel flushed with embarrassment as the demon studied him as he chewed.  Another small sound of pleasure escaped his lips.

The demon brought his hand up and gently caressed Aziraphale's cheek.  "Crumbs."

"Did you get them all?" Aziraphale asked and tilted his head back.

Crowley leaned over him and lightly kissed Aziraphale's cheek, near but not on the mouth.  "I believe so."

And then Aziraphale was alone on the linen couch once more as Crowley retreated to his own.  Undoubtedly, it was the right thing to do, however the right thing was becoming less appealing by the moment.  Frustrated, Aziraphale made another bite of pate up on his own and nibbled it.

"What are we doing after lunch?"

"Perhaps a walk along the beach, angel?"

"Sounds lovely."

The words felt hollow to Aziraphale as he said them.  Perhaps they ought to pull back from whatever this thing between them was.  Neither of their sides would support any sort of relationship between them.  This couldn't possibly end well for them.  After all, it hadn't ended well the other night for the men in the poem on opposite sides.  Their love ultimately killed them.

"But then they turned into stars," Aziraphale murmured to himself.

"What was that, angel?"

"Stars.  I was just thinking that if this weather holds, it will be an ideal night for seeing stars."  The angel had lied.  And the lie had come easily.  But he didn't want to burden Crowley with his thoughts.

"If I have to miracle the skies clear myself, you'll see them tonight."

Crowley's voice was soft as he spoke and his expression made Aziraphale feel almost faint.  His demon was looking at him with such tenderness that it made him feel as though he might melt.  His demon?  Dear Lord, when had he started thinking of Crowley that way? Such nonsense.  Except it wasn't nonsense.  Crowley was his demon and he knew in his heart that he was Crowley's angel.

They had belonged together perhaps since that first moment in Eden.  Falling in love wasn't something that had happened at any particular moment.  Love was something that had been there from the start.  He loved Crowley.  There wasn't a moment on Earth he could recall not loving Crowley.  Every moment, every interaction, there was a feeling of love.  Part of him felt as if he'd loved Crowley before they even met.  As if the demon had been a part of him from the moment She had breathed them both into existence.

He, Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, had loved a demon since the moment time itself began.  The very notion ought to terrify him.  But instead he felt a sense of peace looking at Crowley.  For the first time he could ever recall, he was where he belonged.


***


Crowley studied Aziraphale.  The angel had stopped eating and was looking at him as though he could see into his soul.  Not the most comfortable thought given his demonic status, but the shy smile on Aziraphale's face was oddly reassuring.  Although the angel smiled frequently, he couldn't recall ever receiving one quite like this before.  He smiled back and was rewarded with a lovely blush crossing Aziraphale's cheeks.

He tried to memorize the expression on the angel's face.  The next time he was in Hell and felt as if he might never see the light of day again, that smile would sustain him.  All the best memories Crowley had since he fell were of Aziraphale and their meetings.  Often when he was alone, he'd replay them in his mind again and again.

Their time would have to end soon.  Hell would undoubtedly send him new orders or demand an update on Caligula.  Every moment he had with Aziraphale was to be treasured.  In all likelihood, they would be separated for several decades or even centuries again.  Whenever Crowley had to report to head office, he wondered if he would ever see Aziraphale again.

"I'm quite full.  Do you think we might go on a walk together?"  the angel asked.

Standing up, Crowley offered Aziraphale his hand to help him off the couch.  The brush of their fingertips was all too brief and Crowley wished he dared hold his hand as they walked.

When they reached the shore, the angel stumbled slightly and grabbed the demon's arm.  "Do you mind if I hold onto you?"

"Ngk," Crowley replied non-comittally even as he savored the closeness.

For several minutes, they walked in silence.  Crowley tried to think of something clever to say, but each idea felt either too trite or sounded too much like the ridiculous drivel he used during a temptation.  There was plenty he wanted to tell Aziraphale, but whether it would be welcome or not was another story.  And even if it was welcome, what was the point when they would be pulled apart.

"Is that where you got the oysters from?" Aziraphale paused and asked, pointing to the island in the distance.

"That's Capri.  It's owned by the Emperor.  He has private oyster beds there.  But I hardly think he'll miss the few I took."

The angel looked at the island and then at his demonic host.  "I felt rather envious of you this morning when you flew there."

"Envious?"  Crowley repeated in a puzzled tone as if he'd never heard the word before and was considering it's meaning.
"Flying like that."

"Like what, angel?"

"Flying like you're free.  I don't remember the last time I had my wings out since the garden, much less flying."

"So it's true?  Your lot really did clip everyone's wings, metaphorically that is."

Sadly, Aziraphale turned to Crowley and nodded.  "Ever since the fall, we've been under orders to store them on another plane of existence.  Out of sight so we won't be tempted to fly.  The only times we're allowed to have them out is for official business like in the garden."

"Doesn't seem right."

"It felt good to see you flying though.  Your wings are quite beautiful."

"They're just wings," Crowley shrugged.  Probably best not to dwell on the topic for too long.

"If I can't use my wings and fly, seeing your wings and you flying is the next best thing."

Sadness marred Aziraphale's features and Crowley wanted-  He wanted to hold him close and comfort him.  A part of him wanted to rage up to the heavens and demand the Archangels rescind their cruel and pointless orders.  Wings and the freedom of flight weren't behind the rebellion.  If they had any sense, they'd realize their heartless control might spur on further rebellion.

Taking something that was such a fundamental part of an angel's being away was beyond wrong.  Most demons lost their wings when they fell from Heaven and Crowley saw a number of them go mad from losing their wings.  He made a point of concealing his wings from the rest of Hell; it would draw too much attention and result in too many questions.

Reaching out, he lightly caressed Aziraphale's cheek.  "Is there anything I can do?"

"Let me see your wings again?"

Crowley looked around, there were fishing boats in the distance.  It was too risky.

"Too many mortals around."

"Oh."  The angel looked crestfallen.

"But we could go back to the villa.  I think the garden off the baths is private enough."
Aziraphale brightened.  "I'd like that."

The angel took Crowley's arm once more and they headed back to the villa.  The demon felt slightly uncomfortable.  Earlier he'd had his wings out for a purpose and was at a distance.  Now he was about to show them to Aziraphale at his request.  Most demons didn't have wings, let alone display them for an angel to inspect.  And yet, that was exactly what Crowley was about to do.


***


Aziraphale hadn't meant to bring up Crowley's wings, much less ask to see them.  The words had simply tumbled out.  Around Gabriel, he tended to be tongue tied and around mortals, he spoke with ease.  In the presence of his demonic host, Aziraphale found himself saying things he normally would have kept to himself.

It had been that way since their first meeting in Eden.  The Almighty asked the angel about the missing sword and he'd lied.  She knew the truth, but somehow he'd lied to her.  But when the demon asked about the flaming sword, Aziraphale had blurted out the truth with little prompting.  At first, Aziraphale thought it was perhaps a trick of some sort, but he'd encountered a few other demons over the years and he felt no urge to confess anything to them.

Crowley was special and had been from their first encounter.

As they approached the villa, Aziraphale started to feel a bit shy.  Asking to see the demon's wings was very forward of him.  The request had surprised Crowley as much as it surprised the angel to make it.  Aziraphale hadn't realized until he saw Crowley in flight earlier just how much he missed flying and his own wings.  No one had dared question the orders regarding wings at the time.  Now Aziraphale found himself wondering if the rules were really Hers or merely an edict issued by Michael and Gabriel.

"Are you sure you wish to do this?"  Crowley asked, as if sensing the angel's hesitation as they approached the villa.

"Very sure," he replied quickly.  Then added, "Only if you're willing, of course."

A bit of uncertainty flashed across the demon's face, then disappeared.  "You're my best friend, I would do anything for you."

They walked through the garden behind the house and went into the smaller private garden attached to the baths.  For a few minutes, they sat at the edge of the pool, not quite touching, but almost.  Staring at the water, neither was sure how to proceed.

Finally Crowley stood up and began to manifest his wings.  They were smaller than this morning because of the fabric of his tunic partially holding them back.  Wings could only fully manifest through celestial fabric or without any barriers.  Earlier, the demon had been naked and his wings had been out in their full glory.  

"Could you-" Aziraphale stammered and trailed off.  He felt his face flush with heat.  It was too embarrassing to ask.  "Never mind."

It was lovely to see even a portion of Crowley's wings and really, he could hardly ask the demon to disrobe!

"Could I what, angel?"

"I can't."

"Can't you?"  Crowley moved closer and drew Aziraphale into his gaze.

It was the first time Aziraphale had ever felt Crowley's power directed at him.  He gasped in shock.  The use of his power was surprisingly gentle and underneath the gentleness, the angel sensed a level of power in the demon he'd never encountered outside of an Archangel.  Crowley whispered reassuringly in Aziraphale's mind.

"I'd wanted to see your wings properly and-"

"And I'm not wearing celestial fabric," Crowley supplied.

The demon hesitated for a moment, then closed his eyes and tilted his head back.  Instantly, the black tunic faded from his body and his wings began to shimmer and unfurl further.  Aziraphale watched as Crowley's wings fluttered almost imperceptibly in their full display.

"They're divine," the angel murmured in wonder.

Crowley opened his eyes and smirked, "Hardly.  They're demonic."

"Angelic."

"Fallen."

Aziraphale didn't argue further, but he could sense the divine within the sleek black feathers.

"May I?"  the angel asked and reached out hesitantly.

Crowley gulped and nodded.

Gingerly, Aziraphale touched the tip of one shining feather.  Celestial power glimmered around his fingertip where he'd touched the feather.  Power seemed to radiate from Crowley's wing and wrap itself around Aziraphale's wrist.  It was something he'd never witnessed before and he looked in fascination.

A soft sound escaped the demon's lips and Aziraphale met his gaze.

"Did I hurt you?"

Crowley shook his head.

"My feathers were never this lovely," Aziraphale said and touched another feather lightly.

"Your feathers were beautiful and looked so soft."

"Did they?  It's been over two thousand years since I saw them."

The demon growled softly.  Aziraphale could feel anger radiating from him.  It touched him that Crowley was so upset on his behalf.

"I don't mind, really.  I've gotten used to it."

"Wings are to be used and enjoyed, angel.  Not hidden and their absence endured."

"Not much I can do."

Crowley looked thoughtful for a moment, then gestured with both hands.  Aziraphale felt something shift in the air.

"That's better.  Now they can't see us here.  Not your side.  Not mine."

"I can't," the angel protested as he realized what Crowley intended.

"It's been too long.  Your wings are a part of you.  Bring them to you on this plane for a little while.  I'm not suggesting you fly off or anything.  Just bring them back to you for a few minutes."

Crowley circled around Aziraphale and ran his hands over the angel's back where his wings would manifest.  The gentle touch was overwhelming and his flesh began to ache where his wings belonged.  It had been so long and Aziraphale thought he'd made peace with being separated from them, but seeing Crowley's wings and touching them, now the demon caressing where the angel's wings belonged, it was too much.

Aziraphale started to cry softly and the demon's black wings wrapped around him.

"Let me help you, angel.  I promise to shield you and they'll never find out.  I feel the pain you're in.  Didn't know what it was before, but I've felt it for so long."

He felt Crowley's mouth against his back, kissing lightly through the fabric of his white tunic.  The demon's mouth seemed to know the curve of where his wings belonged by heart.

It was absolutely wrong, Aziraphale told himself.  The Archangels would be furious if they ever found out he'd been tempted to bring his wings out.  But his heart ached so painfully and Crowley's mouth and wings were so soothing.  The demon wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's waist and he murmured comfortingly in the angel's ear.

"Just let yourself go this once.  You won't fall, love.  I'll keep you safe."

It would be the most sinful thing he'd ever done.  But they were his wings.  She had given them to Aziraphale.  Michael and Gabriel had made him put them away.  Yet, She wouldn't have given Aziraphale wings if she didn't want him to have them.

The angel didn't even have to focus, as soon as he decided to bring his wings to this plane, they began to push out and his white tunic disappeared as Crowley snapped, so his wings had nothing holding them back.  He was only dimly aware the demon had miracled a white loin cloth for his modesty.  The sensation of his wings returning for the first time in so long was overwhelming.

Aziraphale started to sob as he felt whole for the first time in what felt like an eternity...


***


Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale and gently steered him over to a bench overlooking the pool and fountains.  Last night, it had been terrifying when the angel had wept over Flavius and Antonio from the poem.  This was far worse, the demon decided; not because he couldn't understand, but because he could understand all too well.

Hiding his wings from Hastur and the like was rough at times.  One time between assignments, Crowley had been stuck in Hell for a hundred years with his wings on another plane of reality to keep them safe.  It had hurt terribly and he'd come close to crying when he finally was sent on an assignment and reunited with them once more.  The poor angel had been denied a part of himself for thousands of years.

Giving comfort wasn't in a demon's job description but instinctively, Crowley held onto Aziraphale and tried to comfort him.  A song came to him from before his fall and he crooned it gently.  They were still shielded from the view of their respective offices. Crowley would be safe holding the angel and Aziraphale would never have been privy to the song Crowley sang to him.  The song was reserved, known only to a few angels from the very start of Heaven.  It was one meant to bring comfort to other angels.

He'd been uncertain if it would help given his fallen status.  Crowley reached into the depths to pull whatever goodness he could find lingering and put it into the song to comfort Aziraphale.  The angel stopped crying and began to look at Crowley.

"That's celestial, that wasn't demonic."

"It's an old memory, don't concern yourself, angel.  I'm plenty demonic.  Only a demon would dare hold an angel while naked."

The absurd statement brought a giggle from Aziraphale and he dropped the matter.  He turned his head and looked at his white wings.

"They seem a bit sad," Aziraphale said.

"They're white and angelic."

"Once upon a time, they had a light to them.  It's not there now."

The wings were in pristine condition, but they didn't have the glow that Crowley remembered wings having back in Heaven.  Maybe they'd been kept too long from Her radiance.  Perhaps they sensed Aziraphale's sadness.  Or maybe all wings lost their luster when they were kept away for ages.

"I think it's still there," Crowley soothed.

"I'm being silly.  I should be grateful just to be reunited with them."

"You're frequently silly.  It's one of the things I lo- like about you.  But you're not being silly about this."

"Nothing to do for it really.  If I miracle them, Gabriel will know I had them out," Aziraphale sighed.

Crowley stopped and thought.  He shouldn't interfere.  Demons didn't care about other demons in distress, let alone angels.  "You know, the humans have a tradition of throwing a coin into a fountain and making a wish.  I bet if you were to throw a coin in the fountain, close your eyes tightly and make a wish, it might fix things."

"Wishes are occult in nature."

The demon magically flourished a coin and pressed it into the angel's palm.  "A wish is an expression of your heart's desire.  No one will ever know but me.  Just try it, angel."

Aziraphale looked doubtful as he took the coin and walked to the fountain.  He closed his eyes and Crowley stood behind him.  As the angel focused on his wish and tossed the coin, the demon focused on the angel.  Pouring his love of the stars into the gesture, Crowley waved his hands behind Aziraphale.

"Open your eyes and have a look, angel."

Crowley watched anxiously for his reaction.  Aziraphale opened his eyes and stared in wonder at his wings.  A pearlescent shimmer covered them, making them shine softly.
"What is it?"  Aziraphale asked in wonder.

"A little bit of stardust.  It's not the same as before, but-"

The angel began to tear up.

"Isn't it what you wished for?  I can change it," Crowley offered worriedly.

"It's even better."

Aziraphale beamed at Crowley.  He'd seen the angel smile plenty of times, but never like this.  There was a tenderness to the smile the he'd never seen before.  Love, the demon realized in shock.  The angel was looking at him with all the love in the universe.   His knees started to buckle and he might have fallen had Aziraphale not wrapped his arms around him.

Crowley clutched the angel involuntarily and he froze.  The pearlescent wings came forward towards him and without thinking, he brought his gleaming black wings forward to meet them.  Power from the dark wings snaked towards the power emanating from the light wings. Both of them gasped in shock at the intimate touch of their power mingling.

The energy between them was electric as golden eyes met soft hazel and the power from their wings danced around in the air.  Crowley could feel all the hurt Aziraphale had experienced at the hands of Gabriel, taste the pleasure of oysters as the angel experienced them, and most of all he felt love.  Overwhelming love and it was all for-

Panic set in and Crowley began to try to pull back.  If he could feel all this from Aziraphale, what was Aziraphale feeling from him?!  He didn't want him to see his fall or worse still, his life before the fall.  It was too much.  Crowley had to put a stop to this!

Drawing back, Crowley turned and fled from the garden into the bath.  It was cowardly, but he couldn't bear for Aziraphale to see anymore.  If he knew how far the demon had fallen, the love he'd felt from the angel would surely turn into hatred.  How could it not?

He was starting to return his wings when he heard Aziraphale calling after him.  Quickly finishing returning his wings to the other realm, Crowley tried to think of an excuse.  No excuse came to mind.  There was the gentle sound of footsteps and he dove into the water of the bath to hide.  As much as he hated having his head immersed in water, he hated the idea of Aziraphale seeing him like this even more.  Eventually he would have to come out, but maybe if he waited a while, the angel would give up and he'd have time to think of an excuse.

However, the angel did not give up.  Crowley heard him moving closer to the water.  He willed himself to stay still in the hopes of avoiding detection.  A minute later, the water in the bath shifted around him and Crowley realized Aziraphale had gotten into the water and was moving towards him.  For the second time in his existence, the demon tried unsuccessfully to curse underwater...


***


Aziraphale stood impatiently beside Crowley as he waited for him to surface.  Considering how much the demon loathed having his head underwater, he seemed to be able to do so for a very long time.  However, the angel was prepared to wait as long as it took.  After a couple minutes, Crowley finally surfaced and he looked away as he did.

"What in the Hell was that about?"

"Ngk." the demon replied.

"That's hardly a proper answer.  And really Crowley, I feel I'm entitled to one."

The demon stared up at the ceiling, then down at the water.  His eyes seemed to look anywhere but at the angel as he tried to compose himself.

"When our wings-"

"Touched?"

"Our power mingled, angel.  I could see so much of you and it hit me that if I could see all that in you, then you could see all that in me.  I didn't want you to see the ugliness."

Aziraphale's heart ached for Crowley.  "Ugliness?  I saw nothing ugly.  Crowley, I saw a million stars through your eyes and felt your wonder at each one.  I'll be honest, there was a lot that I didn't understand, but none of it was ugly."

"It's just the stardust I put on your wings earlier when I granted your wish.  And you didn't have to put them away to get in here with me," Crowley protested and tried not to look at Aziraphale, whom he just realized was naked.

"I put them away because I wanted to be here with you.  What you did to my wings was lovely dear, but it didn't change how I viewed you.  They weren't even what I wished for."

"They weren't?  Well, what did you wish for then?"

"Never mind."

The demon grumbled.  "Doesn't seem fair that you get to demand all sorts of answers and I don't, angel."

"I wanted an answer to a question."

"What question?"

"Crowley, please," Aziraphale huffed.

The demon repeated, "What question?"

"I got my answer, isn't that enough to know?"

Crowley looked thoughtful and then asked, "Did you get the answer you were looking for?"

"Yes."

Aziraphale couldn't bring himself to discuss it.  His wish had been to know if Crowley truly loved him or if he was just imagining it.  And then Crowley had covered his wings in stardust.  The angel had felt how personal it was for the demon.  And then when their power had mingled, he had felt the intensity of Crowley's love amidst his passion for the stars.  There were things that loomed out of Aziraphale's vision as though they were locked away, but he'd felt such kindness and warmth hidden underneath.

Crowley might never admit his love aloud, but Aziraphale had felt it.  And he knew Crowley had felt his love.  Their powers had whispered between them words that neither was able to speak.

The demon looked nervous and Aziraphale wished he could put him at ease.  Perhaps distract him.

"Do you think you might miracle me a bit more of that soap from the other day?" Aziraphale asked.

"Soap?" Crowley echoed in disbelief.

"Well, we're already in the water.  It seems foolish not to go ahead and bathe."

"Here," the demon said and gestured a cake of the cherry blossom scented soap into the angel's hands.

He inhaled the fragrance deeply, "It's so lovely, Crowley.  But not to your taste, I suppose."

"I like it on you."

"Maybe you could help me.  I can't reach my back as well as I'd like and it feels a bit odd after having my wings out for the first time in so long."  He held the soap out to the demon.

"All right, angel," he sighed.

Aziraphale moved to the edge of the bath to hold onto the side as Crowley began to glide the soap over his skin.  It was beyond forward of him, but he was worried Crowley still might run off.  He hoped that focusing on a task might distract him.  Although it was proving more distracting to himself, Aziraphale thought.

The demon stood behind him, gently gliding the sweetly scented soap across his shoulders, up to just under the damp blond curls and down the angel's shoulder blades to where his wings had pushed out earlier.  Aziraphale felt as if he could melt.  Crowley's light touches with the soap felt divine.  The caress of the soap was followed by damp fingertips massaging the angel's skin hesitantly.

Closing his eyes and reveling in the touch, Aziraphale wished the moment could go on forever.  The long fingers left his back and he involuntarily moaned at their loss.  He turned to face Crowley, expecting he would hand the soap back, but instead the demon took Aziraphale's arm and began to wash it.  After that, he continued to wash every inch of the angel.

Periodically, his demonic host would give Aziraphale a look, as if checking to see if it was okay to proceed and he would nod in response.  A bath had never been more than a pleasant indulgence, but this felt incredible.  The needy sensation was unfurling in his abdomen once more, perhaps more intensely because of the close contact.  Or perhaps because he knew Crowley loved him and that knowledge made Aziraphale ache for him.

When Crowley finished washing Aziraphale, he miracled a stack of towels made from linen on a nearby bench.  Aziraphale felt a bit disappointed, he'd hoped to wash Crowley as well.  But he settled for thanking the demon and getting out to dry off.  He dried off and watched as Crowley miracled a new cake of soap with a spicy sandalwood scent.  As Crowley bathed, Aziraphale wrapped himself in a towel.

The embarrassment he'd felt earlier when he'd seen Crowley's effort had faded away considerably.  Loving him and knowing the demon loved him back had diminished his sense of shame.  He didn't think he was ready to produce an effort of his own just yet, but for the first time ever, Aziraphale thought he might want to make an effort one day for Crowley.  It was shocking that all the shame and doubt Gabriel had forced on the angels seemed to melt away in the face of a demon's love.

Crowley stepped out of the bath and walked over towards the towels.  Aziraphale reached for one and opened it up.

"Let me dry you off."

The demon stared at the towel uncertainly.

"Please, Crowley." Aziraphale murmured.

Wordlessly the demon nodded and stood still as the angel began to move the towel over his chest...


***


Crowley remained very still as Aziraphale dried his chest.  The angel studied the demon's flesh curiously as he dried him off.  Occasionally, Aziraphale would murmur a small request such as raising his arm to be dried, but otherwise the angel was silent.  Fascinated and uncertain of what his companion was intending, Crowley watched in silence.

From time to time, soft fingers would move over the demon's flesh.  Crowley wasn't sure if Aziraphale was checking to see if his skin was dry or if it was a caress.  The brief touches burned into his mind as his angelic companion moved behind him and began to dry his back and shoulders.  When he felt the fingers trail along the tender flesh where his wings would manifest from.

That elicited a small gasp from Crowley and he felt embarrassed by his reaction, but Aziraphale merely answered by pressing a light kiss in the center of his back.  Not once in his existence could the demon recall having been touched in that particular spot and the light kiss felt as if it was burning through his torso into his heart.

He heard Aziraphale moving behind him and then felt the linen sliding over his legs and up his thighs.  Crowley wondered if Aziraphale would be embarrassed by such an intimate gesture; however the slow and gentle drying continued followed by the light touches from time to time.  The linen passed over his ass cheeks one at a time and curiously, the angel's fingers slid over the curve of his skin there as well.

When Aziraphale moved around to the front on his knees, Crowley stared down at him.  The angel started on the demon's calves and brought the towel slowly up to his thighs.  It was unbearably intimate as he watched Aziraphale drying him and lightly touching.  Now that he had a clear view of the angel, Crowley could see that the touches were most definitely caresses.  Tentative, but unquestionably, Aziraphale was caressing his flesh.

Crowley's cock began to stir as Aziraphale touched his thigh and he pulled away suddenly.  He sat down on the bench and grabbed a towel from the bench to cover himself.

"I wasn't finished," Aziraphale said and sat down beside him.

"Didn't want to ruin it."

"How could you have ruined it?"

Crowley stared at the floor.  "I was starting to er- uh- react in a bad way."

"Was anyone going to be injured or damned by this reaction?"

"Only myself, angel."

Aziraphale fretted, "Did I do something wrong?"

"You did nothing wrong," Crowley reassured him and took his hand.  "For the first time since before I fell and became a demon, you made me feel clean.  It was like all the things I've been forced to do with humans hadn't happened.  You and your sweetness, this time together, it's been almost purifying in a sense.  Still a demon of course, but-  I can't explain."

"And this upsets you?  Caused the bad reaction?"

Continuing to stroke Aziraphale's hand, the demon sighed.  "What upsets me is that I started to enjoy you touching me too much.  I was starting to get uh - lustful."

Lustful seemed like the best way to try and make the angel understand without getting too graphic.  It wasn't right to let his innocent companion excite him when Crowley knew it wasn't his intention.

"I see.  Actually, I don't see.  What were you doing that was lustful?"

"I was starting to get hard, angel."  He pointed at his lap.

"Oh!  Is that what it means when it gets bigger?"

Crowley suppressed an urge to hide under the water once more.  "More or less."

"Your effort got larger because I was touching you?"

The demon nodded and wished he was almost anywhere else at that moment.  He waited for Aziraphale to denounce him for being wicked, but to his surprise it didn't come.

"How marvelous!"

"You're not upset?  You're an angel.  I'm a demon.  That sort of thing should upset you."

"Really?  I felt rather proud when you told me just now."

"Satan give me strength," Crowley muttered to himself.

"You said yourself earlier this morning that we had a sort of love between us.  And I know what I felt with you when our wings touched.  There was nothing sinful about it.  Surely desire born out love isn't sinful.  So if I made you-"

"Aroused," the demon supplied almost inaudibly.

"If I made you aroused, then surely it's good thing."

Desire had never been anything Crowley had considered as positive.  Lust had been a means to tempt mortals.  Just a tool at his disposal that Hell expected him to wield without question.  Today Aziraphale had made him feel clean one minute and then aroused the next.  Was it possible for desire to be something good?  Could physical urges as extensions of love be something that wasn't sinful?

Copulating.  Fucking.  Screwing.  They were all terms humans used and the demon had engaged in them countless times.  But he'd heard another term that mortals who rejected his temptations would use with the mortals they purported to care about.  Making love.  The term had always made Crowley roll his eyes.  There was nothing loving about what he did for Hell.

But he loved Aziraphale, didn't he?  As much as it pained Crowley to admit it, he loved the angel beyond measure.  He wanted to be with him, just as they had the past two days and to never deal with Hell again.  Desire for his angelic companion had always bubbled under the surface, but not once had he ever allowed himself to seriously consider a physical relationship with him.  What would happen if they ever did engage in sex?

"May I finish drying you now?" Aziraphale asked, breaking the demon's reverie.

Crowley froze, but made no attempt to stop the angel as he pulled the towel down and knelt in front of him.  Aziraphale gently pushed the demon's thighs apart and dried the flesh where his thighs met his body.  Then he carefully took Crowley's balls in the towel and patted them dry.  The angel traced his fingers over them and appeared to be considering them.  And the towel moved over Crowley's rapidly hardening cock.

"You said you've had your effort since before you fell, may I ask why?"

The demon hesitated as he considered how to answer the question.  He didn't feel it  was quite the time to tell him how he'd gone with Lucifer and the guys into the mortal design studio and how Lucifer brought up designs of genitalia and egged them on to all choose something.

"What'll it be, guys?  A show-er or a grower?"  Lucifer had laughed as they looked through the designs.

Crowley was the last to choose, he was the newest of the group and he had wanted to impress them, so he'd said, "How about a show-er AND a grower!"

That had won him all sorts of approving looks and he selected a design with Lucifer saying, "Well done!"

At last, Crowley answered, "A few of us were curious and tried them out at the mortal design studio.  I was there with friends.  Once I had it, I dunno, just felt like part of me."

"You have a very lovely effort," Aziraphale said and ran a finger over the tip.  "But you don't call yours an effort, do you?"

"Not usually."

"What do you call it?"

Staring at Aziraphale's fingers on his arousal, Crowley groaned, "Cock.  I call it a cock."

The angel continued to examine him curiously for several minutes, then sat on the bench beside Crowley and leaned his golden curls against the demon's bare shoulder.  "It's a very nice cock.  I'm not quite ready to make one yet, but when I do, perhaps you could guide me?"

"We ssshould probably get dressssed," the demon hissed.

"I suppose so.  After all, we did make a bargain this morning."

"The blue outfit I gave you for seeing the stars tonight.  You don't have to, angel.  Wear whatever you want.  I'll still gladly show you every star in the galaxy."

"I know," Aziraphale replied contentedly and wrapped his arms around the demon's waist.  "But I want to wear it."

Crowley hesitated, then put his arm around Aziraphale's bare shoulders.  Not once had he ever envisioned them embracing, wearing nothing but towels but it was nice.  The cherry blossom soap scent mingling with his own sandalwood and spice soap.  He didn't know what the future held for them, but he knew he would spend the rest of eternity making Aziraphale happy and keeping him safe if he would let him...

Chapter Text

Still wrapped in towels, they made their way from the baths to the main house to dress.  Aziraphale held onto Crowley as they walked.  It was nice to be able to stand so close to him.  His heart felt like it was going to burst any second, he felt positively giddy with- Well, he wasn't entirely sure what, but it felt amazing and he wished he could remain at the demon's side forever.

When they reached the upstairs, Aziraphale didn't want to be parted from Crowley and asked, "Would you help me dress, please?"

The demon hesitated, "I suppose.   Let me just miracle some clothes for myself first."

"Oh, please don't," Aziraphale said and laid a hand on his arm.  "You've been so good to me and given me such a lovely outfit for tonight.  Let me make something for you."

Crowley looked as though he was about to run again, but instead bit his lip and sighed at last, "Very well, angel.  Am I dressing you first or are you dressing me?"

"Me first, if you please.  I need to think of the perfect outfit for you before I create it!"

They went into Aziraphale's room; the pale blue outfit was sitting on the bed still.  Crowley lifted the pin bearing his sigil and placed it to the side, then lifted the soft blue tunic.  The angel blushed slightly as he removed the towels he was wrapped in.  He'd never been more keenly aware of his lack of an effort before as he exposed the blank canvas of flesh between his legs to the air.

His demonic host kept his eyes mostly on Aziraphale's face as he slipped the tunic over the softly rounded body.  Once the tunic was in place, Crowley finally allowed himself to look downwards and smoothed the fabric with slow deliberation.  The needy feeling inside Aziraphale seemed to grow as the slim fingers skimmed the fabric of the tunic.  A dull ache settled between his legs, as if he wanted to be touched there.  He thought of Crowley's effort once more, cock, his mind amended and an embarrassed smile played on the angel's lips.

Next came the matching blue toga and Aziraphale stood still as Crowley draped it carefully on his body.  What did he want Crowley to wear?  He had no idea when he'd proposed it.  It had been a whim, but he really liked the notion.  Crowley always wore black.  Maybe something with color?  Although it wouldn't be fair to make him uncomfortable.  Aziraphale normally wore white, but the pale sky blue with silver embroidery the demon made him wasn't too far from his comfort zone.  What did one make someone who created the stars?

"Got it!"

"What, angel?"  Crowley asked as he knelt to put the silver sandals on his companion's feet.

"What to make for you to wear!"

"Anything will be fine, I'm sure," he replied and focused on lacing the sandals up Aziraphale's calves.  When he was finished, he stood up.  "All set."

The angel hesitated.  It was wrong to even consider, but he found himself unable to resist.  "Not quite."

The demon frowned slightly, "Did I forget something?"

"The pin, I- I'd like you to put it on me, please Crowley."

"You don't have to."

"I want to and I want you to put it on."

Crowley's fingers trembled as he picked up the winged sigil pin and Aziraphale trembled as he waited for him to put it on him.  A sigil held great power and to wear the sigil of another had deep meaning.  For an angel to wear the sigil of a demon was unheard of, but then so was loving one and Aziraphale loved Crowley.  His hesitation was fading as Crowley held the pin over his toga and certainty replaced it.  He belonged to the demon and he felt a sense of anticipation.

"Are you sure, angel?"

"I want to wear your sigil, Crowley.  Please let me bear your mark."

The demon pushed the pin carefully through the fabric of the toga.  Although he wasn't touching Aziraphale, the angel felt a caress of Crowley's power as he placed the pin.  It reminded him of when their power mingled when their wings were out earlier.  The pin seemed to send wisps of the demon's essence around him and draw out bits of Aziraphale's own power.

"How does it look?"

Crowley's expression was filled with awe and he murmured, "Beyond anything I could imagine.  How does it feel?"

Aziraphale reached up and caressed his cheek as he echoed, "Beyond anything I could imagine."

The demon reached out hesitantly to touch the pin once more, but pulled his fingers back.  Gently, the angel took Crowley's hand, brought it up to the pin, and held their hands together over it for several silent minutes...

***

They remained still, communing silently over the demon's sigil.

When he created the pin, Crowley hadn't expected Aziraphale to ever actually wear his mark.  He'd imagined it would be quietly returned or left without a word.  The idea that the angel would want to wear the sigil had never remotely crossed his mind.  Even as he'd miracled the pin into existence, he wasn't sure why he was doing so.

Every angel and demon had a sigil, a symbol of their true name that tied into their very soul.  It was rumored that the Almighty kept a soul sigil of every angel and demon that housed their powers and that She alone could give or take powers away through those sigils.  Crowley had discovered that if he got mortals to create things in the shape of or bearing a sigil of a great demon, it yielded continuous low grade evil.  Aziraphale, being an angel, would be immune to any corruption from Crowley's symbol.  But it was incredibly powerful to see him wearing it.

Was this what mortals felt when they got married and slid a ring onto their spouse's finger?  His fingers entwined with Aziraphale's over the pin, Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s power swirling with his own and commingling around the sigil.  Creating the pin had probably been the wrong thing to do, but it felt so gloriously right as he placed it on Aziraphale and their power united around it.

"You belong to me," Crowley murmured and then he pulled back as he realized he'd spoken the words aloud.

"I believe I do," Aziraphale replied and took the demon's hand in his.  "From the moment we met, I felt a connection to you."

"The moment we met," he echoed.  "I didn't know what it was, but I loved you the moment you said you gave away your sword.  But, angel, I cannot- your side-"

"Please, dearest.  Don't think about it right now.  Let us have one more evening of no sides, only us.  Tomorrow we'll worry about what this means.  Tonight, I just want you beside me, showing me the stars you created and letting me be close to you."

A distant feeling of concern lingered in the demon, but the angel's entreaty was irresistible.  Their sides would still be there in the morning to fret about.  What harm would one night of reveling in the wonder of each other do?

"What do you have in mind?"

"I would like you to close your eyes and let me dress you."

Crowley staggered slightly and nearly fell over.  "You what?"

"If I miracle clothing onto you, head office will know who it was for and there will be questions.  But if I miracle clothing and then dress you myself, they'll never know who it was for."

"You're a deceptive little minx, aren't you, angel?"

"It's not really deception," Aziraphale protested.  "I'm merely avoiding unpleasantness."

"So miracle the clothes and I'll put them on."

"But I want it to be a surprise," the angel insisted.  "I've already bathed with you and dried you.  Surely you can't be embarrassed."

Embarrassment was the least of his concerns, Crowley thought as his cock stirred at the thought of being touched by Aziraphale.  He closed his eyes and sighed, "Very well."

"Excellent!  Now I'll just miracle your outfit.  No peeking, keep your eyes closed."

The demon growled and kept his eyes tightly shut.  He felt soft fingers touching his towel and removing it from his body.  The slight chill in the air on his exposed flesh did little to cool his ardor.  Crowley tried to concentrate on something else.  His mind wandered to the oysters he needed to prepare for dinner.  Oysters were ugly things, he thought.  His body was nearly under control, but then the sounds the angel made in Petronius' restaurant echoed in his mind.

"Please lean down a bit so I may put your tunic on," Aziraphale instructed.

Crowley complied and felt light fabric slide over his head and then over his arms.  The angel's fingers moved over his body smoothing and adjusting the fabric.  It was electric as the chubby fingers touched the edge of the neckline and grazed his collar bone.  And then he heard Aziraphale move and realized he'd knelt on the floor as the fingers moved along the hem of the tunic.  It fell mid-thigh, the demon's preferred length.  His body was all too aware of Aziraphale as angelic fingers brushed his inner thigh.

A groan escaped his lips as he grew hard.  "Sorry."

"It's all right.  It feels nice knowing I make your eff- er cock do this.  Is it bad that it makes me feel very warm and wanting?"

"Ngk," Crowley responded unintelligibly as he felt Aziraphale lean forward and place a very chaste kiss on his aching flesh through the fabric.

"I should probably finish dressing you."

"Good idea, angel." the demon replied in a strangled tone.

He heard Aziraphale rise and felt the fabric of a toga being draped on his body.  Desperate to regain control of his senses, he asked, "Would you like oysters after this?"

"Perhaps we might watch the sunset first," Aziraphale suggested as he adjusted the fabric of the toga.

"Of course."

"Almost finished with your toga, just need to add this," the angel said.

Crowley felt a slight pressure on his shoulder and realized his companion was placing some sort of pin.  It was not the angel's sigil, he thought with vague disappointment as he didn't feel Aziraphale's power in it.

"No sigil pin?" the demon asked in a teasing tone he didn't mean.

"I don't have permission."

"Permission?"

"I gave you permission to place your sigil on me."

"Oh.  I see," Crowley replied, a bit of sadness in his voice.

"I would very much like to ask your permission to place my sigil on you," Aziraphale assured him.  "The problem is I don't have permission to know what my sigil is.  Knowledge of sigils in Heaven is restricted to the Archangels."

"What?!"  Crowley's eyes snapped open and he stared at Aziraphale.

"Crowley close your eyes, please!  I'm not done yet."

"Only if you explain to me what you mean by knowledge of sigils being restricted, angel."

"Fine, but do close your eyes!"

"Didn't see anything but your face.  Too shocked to steal a peek," Crowley assured him honestly as he closed his eyes once more.

"I'll need you to sit so I may finish dressing you.  Let me guide you to a chair and then I'll explain.  Although I'm rather surprised you hadn't heard."

The angel led Crowley to a chair and guided the demon's hands to the arms of it so he could take a seat.  Miracling a comb, Aziraphale ran it through the flame colored hair.

"My hair is part of my outfit?"

"It will be if you hold still," Aziraphale huffed in annoyance.  When Crowley complied, he continued to talk.  "After the war, along with wings being restricted, it was decided that only the highest ranking angels should have knowledge of sigils.  The Archangels stripped the memory of everyone's sigil from their minds, save their own."

"Your sigil is a part of your soul, angel!  They shouldn't have done that!"

"At first it bothered me; it was like a piece of me was missing.  I used to try to remember my sigil and would draw designs, hoping one might be it.  Later I researched scrolls among the humans, searching for my sigil."

"And here I went and made that pin and threw my sigil in your face.  I'm so sorry, angel," Crowley exclaimed in distress.

The angel placed something on the demon's hair and followed it with a light kiss on his head.  "Don't be sorry dear, wearing your sigil filled part of the void I had.  As if the missing part of my soul was restored with a piece of yours."

"Are we finished?"

"Still have to put your sandals on.  Just be patient for a few minutes more."

Aziraphale knelt down, placed a sandal on Crowley's foot and began to fasten the intricate laces.  The demon was keenly aware of the angel's fingers moving over his leg, though his arousal was diminished by Aziraphale's tale.  Crowley never gave his sigil much thought, it was a part of him, but the idea of having knowledge of his sigil stripped away was chilling.  He knew things had changed in Heaven after the Fall, but he never imagined the Archangels would be so cruel as to deny angels their wings and sigils.  It couldn't be Her will, Crowley couldn’t bring himself to believe that of Her, even after he fell from Her grace.

"Now, you won't be able to wear this out in public, silk like this hasn't reached the Roman Empire, but it felt right when I was creating it.  You may open your eyes and see, if you wish."

Crowley opened his eyes and gazed first at Aziraphale kneeling before him and then at the mirror, which the angel had miracled from the mercury behind glass mortal creation to a celestial mirror.  The enhanced mirror reflected Crowley's image back perfectly and he stared in bittersweet shock at what Aziraphale had created for him.

Midnight blue silk embroidered heavily with an ornate border of silver stars.  Scattered throughout the stars were black diamonds, white diamonds and sapphires that glittered with a celestial glow.  The toga had a sprinkling of stars randomly embroidered in addition to the border and had more gems embellishing it.  On his head was a band similar in design to the laurel wreaths Romans wore in triumph, except instead of laurel leaves, it was a silver snake with stars swirling around it.  On his shoulder a pin glittered against the silk, a silver snake covered in tiny stars made from gems that matched the embroidery.  His sandals were silver ones identical to the ones he'd made for Aziraphale.

"You look like a prince," Aziraphale said as he looked up at Crowley.

"The Prince of the Heavens, the Starmaker" the demon replied in a pained voice.

"You don't have to wear it," the angel offered and looked downcast.

It was too close to what he'd worn before the Fall.  But Aziraphale had no way of knowing that and he couldn't bear hurting him.  "It's magnificent, angel."

A shy smile played across Aziraphale's face once more and he stood up.  Crowley got out of the chair and stood beside him.  The angel studied their reflection in the mirror.  "You really do look like a prince."

"You must be talking about yourself, angel."

"Oh no.  I mean it Crowley, you truly are splendid."

"As are you."

They were striking together.  Aziraphale's silvery blond hair with the pale blue outfit and Crowley's deep red hair with the midnight blue.

"Will you be my prince, Crowley?"

The demon lightly kissed the angel's forehead and looked at him, "If it pleases you, but if I'm a prince, what are you going to be, angel?"

"Yours, dear," the angel replied.

"Mine."

His angel, Crowley's heart sang as he looked at Aziraphale's shy smile and felt their power mingling around the sigil pin.  It was a perfect moment and like all perfect moments, it couldn't last forever.  But for now the demon planned to revel in the wonder of his angel...

***

They walked together arm in arm from the villa to the beach to watch the sunset.  Golden light glittered on the water as the tide moved slowly.  Aziraphale held onto Crowley as they watched the dance of colors in the sky.  Bits of pink, red, and gold mingled over the horizon.  Since Eden, they had witnessed more than a million sunsets but never together and none had ever been as glorious, Aziraphale thought to himself.  It was presumptuous of him, but he felt almost as if She had created this particular sunset just for them.

The rays of the sun made Crowley's hair gleam as if it truly were made of fire.  Aziraphale had always grudgingly thought the demon was handsome, but now he allowed himself to look at him and drink in his beauty without guilt.  He loved Crowley and love could never be wrong.  She was made of love and She had made both of them.  Ever since their first encounter in the garden, he'd felt drawn to the demon.  It was something he'd struggled with and denied for a long time, but it was a truth Aziraphale could no longer deny.  He was an angel who loved a fallen angel, and he'd done so from the moment they met.

He leaned against Crowley and sighed with contentment as the demon wrapped his arms around him and held him close.  Aziraphale wished he could remain by his side forever.  Unwelcome thoughts of their respective head offices intruded and he pushed them aside.  They would figure something out, they had to.

The demon bowed his head against the angel's golden curls and kissed the top of his head.

"Of all Her creations, you're the most beautiful, angel."

Aziraphale looked up at him.  "Not from where I'm standing.  I believe I'm looking at Her most divine work."

"I'm a demon."

"You're my demon, Crowley," Aziraphale amended and looked at the sigil pin that continued to have an ephemeral glow of their power surrounding it.

"Whatever I am, I am yours until the end of time itself, angel."

If angels breathed, Aziraphale would have stopped breathing in that moment.  Crowley stared at him, golden eyes blazing in the setting rays of the sun, and then he lowered his mouth to Aziraphale's and kissed him.  As kisses went, it was chaste.  The briefest of brushes over the angel's lips.  But it made Aziraphale's toes curl in his sandals and he instantly wished Crowley would do it again.

"I should see about your oysters," the demon said and pulled away suddenly.

Aziraphale wanted to stop him, but let him leave without protest.  As hard as it was for an angel to accept the love of a demon, he could only imagine how it was for a demon to accept the love of an angel.  Angels were beings of love, Aziraphale's feelings for Crowley were a new type of love, but it was still love.  Crowley was a fallen angel who might remember what love felt like, but he wouldn't have felt it in a long time.
Wandering along the water's edge, Aziraphale brought his fingers to his lips.  He could still feel the touch of Crowley's mouth on his.  It had been so brief, but he felt as if it were burned into his soul.  The aching sensation in his abdomen ignited and burned from the kiss.  Aziraphale wanted to kiss Crowley again.  And he wanted- he wanted the demon to show him what this yearning meant and to help him quench this terrible thirst that burned within him.  

The area on Aziraphale's thigh where Crowley's effort had brushed tingled as he remembered the feeling.  It had been fascinating when he'd dried Crowley off and his effort had stood at attention.  Cock, Crowley's voice rose up in Aziraphale's mind.  He felt a rush when he'd touched Crowley's cock.  Seeing it grow made him feel the sensation of need more intensely.  

It was desire, he reasoned.   Crowley's hardness indicated his arousal and thinking about it made Aziraphale ache deep inside.  He wasn't sure if he was quite ready to make a cock of his own, but he knew he wanted to make one for Crowley eventually.  A small whimper escaped from the angel as he thought about what it might feel like to make an effort of his own and for the demon to touch it.  What would it be like if Crowley kissed him and their cocks were pressed against each other?

Aziraphale blushed at his thoughts and at the sensations they evoked.  Angels didn't concern themselves with physical matters, but then most angels weren't on earth and they weren't confronted with Crowley.  It was easy not to yearn for something you didn't know existed.  One day, when the time was right, perhaps the demon would teach him about physical love, or at least he hoped so.  For now, he would content himself with being near Crowley and maybe would find the courage to ask for another kiss.

Or perhaps even get him to feed him again?  When Crowley sat close to him and fed him, the food tasted even better.  Aziraphale walked from the beach to the pavilion draped in white linen.  He looked at the two couches and hesitated.  Miracling furniture might attract no attention or it could be scrutinized.  Of course, he could miracle it in a way that he could have what he wanted without revealing the real reason directly.  A snap of his fingers and one couch disappeared and the other expanded in size so it was large enough for the two of them and just narrow enough they would have to be close.

If Gabriel asked, he'd moved one couch to provide seating elsewhere and expanded the other so another person could dine.  It sounded innocent.  And it wasn't exactly a lie.  Maybe it was a little deceptive, but what real harm was there.

The sun was sinking further and soon they would have to light the oil lamps.  But first, Aziraphale wanted to retrieve the black onyx snake vase he'd hidden away in the house.  He wanted to give it to Crowley at dinner.

***

Crowley found Aziraphale sitting on the pavilion waiting for him when he came out with a plate of small pieces of bread spread with pate.
"This is new," the demon commented on the change in the furniture.

"Do you mind?"

Inwardly he groaned at the thought of Aziraphale being so close to him, making little sounds of pleasure as he ate, and worse still, doing so wearing his sigil.  The sight of Aziraphale wearing the pin made him feel possessive and he ached to claim the angel in every sense of the word.  But the angel had no way of knowing that and their time together was limited.  Heaven and Hell would separate them soon enough.  Every opportunity to be next to Aziraphale should be embraced.

"I think it's an excellent notion, angel."

"Oh good, I didn't wish to offend you.  I thought we might eat oysters tonight the way we did at Petronius' although perhaps a tad less alcohol."

"Make yourself comfortable.  I'll be back with the oysters as soon as I finish yelling at them."

"Yelling at them?"

The demon shrugged.  "Every cook has their technique."

He walked to the kitchen where he'd miracled a large tray with snow for the oysters.  Crowley looked at the ingredients and tried to recall the flavors in the sauce at Petronius’ then miracled a sauce that was a close approximation.  The sauce sat in a bowl on the edge of the tray along with a bowl filled with lemon wedges and another with salt.

Crowley stared at the bag of oysters he'd retrieved earlier.  They were all still alive and obediently awaiting his command.  He snapped his fingers and they were arranged neatly on the bed of snow.  Were both parts of the shells supposed to be on them?

"Now listen, you slimy buggers.  You're about to be fed to an angel, which is a much better fate than you otherwise would face.  Whatever sentience you have, you will focus it into being the best, most perfect and succulent of your species," Crowley growled.  "And if you don't, I'll find a way to make you regret it!"

The shells shifted back and forth as the oysters trembled inside.  The demon snapped his fingers to add a demonic boost to his command.

"Nothing less than perfection will be tolerated!"

Satisfied the oysters would obey, he left them on the tray and went outside to join Aziraphale.

The angel was sitting on the couch but hadn't touched the pate, the demon noticed as he gestured and the oil lamps all flickered to life.

"Not to your liking?" Crowley asked fretfully.

"Oh no!  I just wanted to wait for you.  It tastes best with good company.  Join me, I have something for you, dearest."

The demon sat beside the angel and soon had something heavy wrapped in fabric.   He looked hesitantly at Aziraphale before unwrapping it.  Drawing the fabric back revealed a very large and exquisitely crafted vase carved from black onyx.  The snake design flawlessly rendered.

"I got it to thank you for your hospitality."

"Thank you," Crowley replied and stared at it.  Aziraphale had chosen perfectly.  But then everything about the angel was perfect.

"If you don't care for it, there's no obligation to keep it."

"Love it, just surprised.  I've never had a gift before and now I get two in one day.  Afraid I didn't get you anything besides the clothes."

Aziraphale laid a hand on Crowley's arm.  "You've given me far more than the clothes.  You gave me your sigil to wear and- and you restored my wings.  And most of all, you've given me time with you."

Uncomfortable with emotional displays, the demon said, "Oysters.  I have oysters for you still."

The angel leaned over and kissed his cheek.  "I'm sure they'll be marvelous.  Even better than in Rome."

"Will be if they know what's good for them," Crowley muttered under his breath as he carefully set the vase down, and then miracled the tray to the table.

"Oh my.  Complete with snow and you made the sauce like at Petronius' place!"

"It doesn't look right."  The demon scowled at the tray.

"They look lovely!  Very clever of you to keep the top shell on so they'd stay extra fresh until we were ready to eat them.  I daresay that's exactly what they do at Petronius' until just before they bring them out."

Crowley growled softly and miracled away the top shell.  "Nice save, angel."

"Perhaps you could feed me a bit of pâté, first?  I confess that your prediction I would love it was spot on."

The angel leaned back expectantly and Crowley moved beside him.  It was as close as they'd been by the end of the night when they first had oysters together.  But unlike that night, they were far more sober and comfortable in each other's presence.  This time, Crowley experienced the briefest bit of hesitation, before wrapping an arm around Aziraphale.  He took one small square of thin bread with the savory spread and popped it into the angel's mouth.

An appreciative moan followed the acceptance of the offering.   "It's so good, Crowley."

"Is that a fact?"

"Oh yes," Aziraphale replied and made another sound of pleasure as he ate the remainder of the bite the demon held out to him.  "Here, allow me."

The angel twisted slightly against his demonic host and retrieved another bite.  He brought it up to Crowley's mouth.  The golden eyed demon took a bite and savored it.  It was very good and definitely improved by Aziraphale offering it to him.   After he swallowed, he allowed the angel to feed him the second bite.

"It's good.  More, angel?"

Crowley reached for another bite to feed Aziraphale.

"Pâté and oysters in the same meal!  Heavenly!  It's like being at a party except it's better because I'm here with you."

"Private celebration?"

'Indeed," Aziraphale agreed and beamed as he accepted another bite.

"Celebrations usually have something special," Crowley mused.

"What could be more special?  We're dressed up and we have pate and oysters!"

The demon bit his lip thoughtfully and reached for their wine cups.  He miracled them clean and then concentrated.  It wasn't exactly permitted to reach out across time, but Hell didn't bother keeping track of the magic he used.  They hadn't gotten to sample the wonderful invention he and Lucifer had gotten drunk on one day in the food lab before the Fall.  It wouldn't be on earth for more than a thousand years, but what harm was there in it, really?

Golden light filled the cups and tiny bubbles effervesced to the top.

"What is that?!?" Aziraphale asked in wonder.

"Something that doesn't exist here yet.  It was created in the lab before I fell.  Tried it once.  Think you'll like it."

The angel hesitated and then took a sip.  "It's remarkable!  It tickles your tongue!  Crowley, whatever is this!?"

"Bit like drinking the stars, isn't it?  Not sure of the name, only know some monk named Dom Peri- can't remember his name, is supposed to accidentally create it just before the 17th century."

"Gracious, we have to wait that long?!"

"Nonsense, angel.  I can always miracle us up a bit.  Now, shall we see how this pairs with oysters?"

***

Aziraphale discreetly miracled the oysters loose in their shells.  Crowley had clearly put in a lot of effort in preparing them, but since he'd left the top shell on, he likely hadn't cut the meat free.  It was incredibly sweet of the demon and he wanted to spare his feelings.

"Would you like to have the salt and lemon first or try it with the sauce, angel?"

"How about with the sauce?"

The demon took a spoon and put on approximately as much sauce as Aziraphale had at the restaurant.  He held the shell in his fingers and tipped it into angel's mouth.

"How is it?"

Aziraphale chewed a couple times before swallowing, "Scrumptious!  Better than Petronius’ even."

It truly was, he thought as he savored the lingering flavor.  The sauce was lighter in texture and had a hint of wine in it that hadn't been present at the restaurant.  For someone who wasn't enamored with food, Crowley had good instincts.

"A pearl!" Aziraphale gasped as he looked at the shell in the demon's hand.  Inside the shell, a small ivory pearl shimmered softly.  He plucked it out and laid it in a linen napkin that Crowley had given him at the start of the meal.

"That's where pearls come from?  Always figured they mined them," the demon mused.  "Would you like another oyster, angel?"

"Please, lemon and salt this time."

Crowley prepared the oyster as requested, but stopped before feeding it to Aziraphale and sighed "Another of those pearls.  Or is it?  It's dark grey."

"A black pearl!"  Aziraphale cried with delight and picked it up with his fingers.  He placed it next to the ivory pearl on the napkin.  "They're so beautiful!"

The demon looked at the oyster suspiciously in case any other pearls were lurking before bringing the shell to Aziraphale's mouth.  The angel took the contents of the shell into his mouth.  The salt and the lemon contrasted wonderfully with the oyster on his tongue.  This too was better than Petronius' had been.  Lemon, bright with the sun of Eden, tart with just a hint of sweet warmth mellowing it.

A bit of the juice spilled onto Aziraphale's chin and Crowley leaned forward and licked it before it could slide down further.  He'd had one arm around the angel and his hand held the oyster shell.  The demon discarded the shell and traced where he'd licked Aziraphale's chin.  The feeling of want and need slithered throughout the angel's stomach.  Instinctively, he leaned into Crowley's palm and kissed his fingertips.

Aziraphale watched as the golden glow of Crowley's eyes seemed to spark and burn within as they met his own gaze.  The demon had started to shield his eyes from the world behind the strange eye shades, but the angel was allowed to stare into the fiery depths and know them.  It was sad that Crowley felt compelled to hide his eyes and yet, a part of Aziraphale wanted to greedily keep this part of the demon solely to himself.  The shape of his pupils may have been snakelike, but the angel believed the color could have only been created in the heavens.

"You're staring, angel."

"Sorry, I just was just wondering, were your eyes always this color?"

"Pretty much.  But I can put eye shades on if they're bothering you."

"Bothering me?  Crowley, they're splendid!"

The demon looked uncomfortable and pulled back slightly, "So what do you fancy next?  Another oyster?  Pâté?"

"Why does it make you uncomfortable when I compliment you?"

"Because I don't deserve your notice," he replied and sat up on the edge of the couch facing away.  "I want you, Aziraphale.  I want to hold you and possess you.  I haven't wanted anything so much since I fell and that is exactly why I can't have you, because as much as I'd like to pretend otherwise, I'm a demon and that's never going to change."

Aziraphale moved closer to Crowley and wrapped his arms around him.  "You are a demon, yes.  But you're also kind to me.  Since we've been here, I've found myself questioning how you ever could have fallen in the first place. "

"It's easier than you think," the demon replied, his jaw clenched tightly and his eyes suspiciously bright.  He picked up a cup and drained the bubbling liquid.  "And I'm still a demon."

"But you're my demon, Crowley," Aziraphale murmured.

His companion turned towards him.  "Angel-"

"And you're my prince.  The Antonio to my Flavius.  I love you-"

Crowley trembled slightly as he pulled Aziraphale close and covered the angel's mouth with his own.

The effervescent wine did pair very nicely with oysters, Aziraphale thought as he surrendered to the kiss, and a myriad of other sensations and thoughts began to flood his mind.

***

Crowley held Aziraphale tightly against him as they kissed.  When he finally lifted his mouth, the angel looked at him with a dazed smile.  Unable to stop himself, the demon blurted out, "I hope I did that right."

"It felt right, but you're the one who would know."

A sheepish expression stole across the demon's face.  "It's the one thing I've never done before."

"Really?!?" Aziraphale's eyes widened in shock.

The demon miracled his cup with the bubbling wine and took a sip, before admitting, "I guess it seemed too personal somehow.  I've seen it done countless times, but I've never tried it myself."

"I'm sure you did it correctly.  It felt nice.  In fact, I'd like to do it again."

"Demonsss aren't sssssuppossssed to be nice," Crowley hissed self-consciously.

"Other demons maybe not, but my demon is very nice," Aziraphale insisted gently as he nuzzled against him.

"Only for you, angel."

Crowley set his cup down and kissed Aziraphale again.

"Why did you kiss me?  If you've never kissed anyone in the past four thousand years, why me?" the angel asked when their kiss ended.

"Because I love you.  Hell demands I seduce mortals.  Sometimes it's not too bad, even somewhat enjoyable, other times it's awful.  But I've never wanted anyone the way I want you.  I inspire desire in others but for the first time, I know what desire truly feels like."

"Then I think it's a first for both of us.  Ever since Rome, I've felt this strange longing I cannot explain.  It's an ache I feel when you're near me and it feels like you are the only one who could possibly satiate this hunger I'm feeling."

The demon groaned.  His body was demanding he kiss Aziraphale until he begged him to take him.  However, while his angelic companion had said he might be ready to make an effort soon, that didn't mean now.  He'd waited since Eden for the angel, he wasn't going to rush him and ruin the past four thousand years.

"When you're ready and the time is right, angel," Crowley promised and kissed him lightly.  "For now, let's focus on food to satisfy you.  After dinner the sky should be just about perfect for viewing."

"But one day you'll-"

The demon took the angel's hand and kissed his wrist.  "One day, I plan to love you completely and thoroughly as I've never loved another."

"I'd like that," Aziraphale blushed.

"Now, if you'll allow me to tempt your palette.  Perhaps another oyster?"

"With sauce please."

Crowley picked up an oyster and poked at it.  Another pearl.  Perhaps he'd gone overboard on magic and yelling?  He placed it on the napkin Aziraphale was collecting the pearls on.  Then he returned his attention to the oyster and added a bit of sauce before moving close to the angel who was partially reclining once more, awaiting the offering.

Aziraphale moaned softly as Crowley tipped the oyster into his mouth.  The sound was pure torture for the demon as he far too easily could imagine eliciting that sound from his angelic companion by using his devilish tongue.

"Good?"

"So good.  Petronius could learn a thing or two from you."

"I may have miracled the ingredients a bit," he admitted sheepishly.

The angel smiled, "I don't mind.  It's quite delectable."

"Delectable," Crowley echoed as he prepared another oyster for Aziraphale.  "Another bloody pearl in this one."

"They're pretty.  I wish I could keep them."

The demon frowned slightly as the angel ate the oyster he offered him.  "Why couldn't you keep them?"

"Gabriel feels owning earthly things will lead to sin.  When I return, I won't be allowed to keep them and there's no place I could store them that I could guarantee they'd stay safe."  Aziraphale shrugged resignedly.

Crowley found another pearl to add to the collection on the napkin and said lightly as he prepared another oyster, "You could keep them here.  I have a mortal deed for the place.  No one will ever know about this place but us."

"Oh, but it would be considered greed to keep something so valuable."  He sighed and pushed the shimmering ivory and black pearls on the linen.

"It's only greed if you care about the material value," Crowley suggested and brought another oyster to his companion's mouth.  "Why do you want to keep them?"

It took a moment for Aziraphale to consume the oyster and think of an answer.  "I supposed because they're beautiful and they remind me of our time here."

"That's sentimentality, angel.  And not, last I checked, a sin.  They're created by one of Her creations-"

"Which you helped somehow."

"Not intentionally.  All I did was demand they be the best and most succulent.  I didn't even know the slimy buggers made pearls."

"I suppose if you kept them for me, I wouldn't technically own them.  Oh but where would you keep them to ensure they weren't lost or stolen?"

Crowley picked up the snake vase, "How about inside here?  They may rest safely without fear of being lost.  I'll keep the vase here in our home where you may return to them any time."

"Our home?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you.  Wasn't thinking.  It just sort of slipped out," the demon apologized.

"I've never had a home before.  Not really," Aziraphale said as he considered it.  "Could this really be our home?"

"For as long as you wish, angel," the demon replied.

"I'd like that, Crowley."

It couldn't be for long, the demon reminded himself.  Their sides would separate them once again and they wouldn't know when they would see each other again.  But for tonight, he was loved and Aziraphale wanted to share his home.

***

Aziraphale allowed Crowley to feed him more oysters.  Each one had a pearl in it and was added to the collection.  He wiped each one with the linen napkin, then placed it inside the vase.  The vase would stay safe in their home.  Their home.  What a marvelous thought, the angel smiled to himself.  His smile faltered slightly as he remembered he'd have to report back to Gabriel soon.  He didn't want to leave, he wanted to stay here with Crowley forever.

Pushing the thought away, he suggested, "How about a bit of the pate since you don't like oysters?"

"Never said I didn't like them.  Just takes a lot to tempt me when it comes to food."  The demon spread pate onto a small piece of flat bread and place it in Aziraphale's mouth.  As the angel bit down, the demon darted in and bit the other half away.

Eating had always been a pleasure for Aziraphale, but eating with Crowley added another depth.  After he swallowed, he asked, "Does it bother you that I eat?"

"No.  Kind of like it, actually.  You make the most delightful little sounds when you enjoy something."

The angel blushed at that.  "Oh dear, am I rude?"

"You're an angel, I don't think you're capable of being rude."

"Obviously you've never met Gabriel."

"Oh, him," Crowley replied dismissively.  "He means well, but he's far too uptight and too impressed with himself.  Has been ever since-"

Aziraphale stared as the demon trailed off.  "You know Gabriel?"

"Well, I mean, not like you could miss him back when I was in Heaven.  Archangel and all that.  So what would you say to another oyster?  Salt and lemon?"

The angel agreed, but stared at the demon as he fished another pearl out and busied himself preparing the oyster for Aziraphale.  Crowley never talked about the time before his Fall.  Aziraphale had always assumed he couldn't remember it.  Now he wondered just how much his demonic companion really remembered and just how far did the star maker fall?

Tonight was for pleasure though and he pushed the thoughts back as he allowed Crowley to feed him another oyster.  Tomorrow there would be time for questions and figuring out how a relationship between the two of them might work.  For now, he was enjoying the meal and even more so, the company.

"More bubbling wine?"

"Yes, I would love more of your star wine," Aziraphale enthused.  "It's amazing stuff!"

"Indeed.  I predict it's going to be a smashing success when it's invented."

Cups in hand, they toasted.

"To star wine," Crowley said.

"And to flying flame ponies," Aziraphale added.

The demon laughed.  "And to finally admitting we're best friends after four thousand years."

"And possibly more?"

"So much more, angel."

They drank and then kissed.  It was the happiest Aziraphale could ever remember feeling.  Sitting with Crowley, drinking the effervescent wine, and kissing.  He'd never felt more content.  His smile faltered slightly and he took another sip of wine.

He was supposed to feel content in Heaven among other angels.   But he never felt like he belonged.  Yet here with a demon, he felt at home.  It would be easier if he could blame it on temptation, but Crowley wasn't trying to tempt him.  Aziraphale felt drawn to him because he loved him.  How was it possible that he felt happier with the demon than in Heaven?

Aziraphale still loved Her.  Loved her with all his heart.  But he also loved Crowley.  And he didn't love the way the Archangels were running things.  His fingers strayed to the pin of Crowley's sigil.  He wished it were possible to have an audience with Her, without the other angels, to ask Her what Her plan was for him.  And to ask if what Gabriel and Michael had decided since the Fall was truly Her will or merely theirs?  It had occurred to him from time to time in the past, but now those questions burned within him.

Crowley offered him another bite of the savory spread on a flat square of bread and Aziraphale accepted.  He chewed thoughtfully as the demon popped the remainder in his mouth and smiled at him.  There was a tiny crumb on his companion's lip and Aziraphale pulled him down to him so he could kiss the crumb away.

The brief kiss deepened and they shifted on the couch.  Crowley was on top of him and Aziraphale could feel his hardness even through their togas.  He thought of his companion's cock and wondered how difficult it would be to make an effort of his own.

***

Kissing was quite nice, Crowley decided as Aziraphale moved underneath him.  He needed to pull away from the angel soon, his arousal was becoming almost painful, but he couldn't quite bring himself to move away.  Lust was something he knew well, but this was something else altogether.  It was intoxicating, holding the angel close and kissing him, desire weaving around them in the air.

He finally managed to pull back and smiled as the angel looked up at him, eyes wide with need and the sigil pin gleaming from his shoulder.  Crowley trailed several light kisses down Aziraphale's neck and was rewarded by several soft moans.  It would be some time before he could explore the full range of pleasure with his angel, but it would be worth it.

"Would you like more oysters, angel?"

"No thank you.  I'd love some more of the special wine and for you to show me the stars though."

Crowley placed a light kiss on Aziraphale's forehead.  "That can be arranged.”

He stood up and snapped his fingers.  Another linen covered couch appeared in the sand.

"I think I'd better take off the toga you made me so I'm not dragging the silk through the sand," the demon said.
"That makes sense.  I should do the same.  Only Crowley, would you place your pin on my tunic?  I want to keep it close to me."

It made him smile to hear the angel's words.  He unfastened his own toga and left the snake pin attached to it.  Then he turned to Aziraphale and unfastened his sigil pin, so the angel could remove the toga.  Sigil pin in one hand, Crowley slipped his other hand inside the neck of Aziraphale's tunic to prevent the pin from accidentally pricking him.  They looked at each other with an awareness as the demon's fingers brushed the angel's chest.  Innocent in nature, but the effect was devastating on them both.

Mentally, Crowley prayed for any deity that might be listening to give him strength as he carefully affixed the sigil pin to Aziraphale's tunic.  "All set, angel.  Shall we?"

They picked up their cups and the demon held his arm out to the angel as they walked on the sand to the couch.  The air had a bit of warmth lingering as they sat on the couch.  In the distance, the tide made a quiet sound as it lapped the beach.

"Should we take our sandals off?" Aziraphale suggested.

"Sure.  Avoid getting sand on the couch."

Crowley miracled his shoes off and to the side.  The angel looked at him with a slight pout, so he miracled his companion's sandals off as well.  They slid onto the couch, leaning back against the one end together.

"I don't see many stars," Aziraphale said.

"You will, you just have to be patient," the demon replied and eased his arm behind the angel's neck both to make him more comfortable and to be closer to him.  "They'll start appearing.  You have to wait for the earth to rotate just a hair more to fully see and appreciate them.  Then the show will begin."

"Will you tell me which ones you designed?"

"If you like.  It's been a long time, but I still remember each one as I created it.  If you like, I'll even show you my favorite pair of stars.  I think you'll find them very special."

"What makes them special, Crowley?"

The demon pressed a kiss to Aziraphale's cheek.  "You'll have to wait until I show you.  But you'll love them too."

The cup the angel was holding dropped onto the beach as he turned towards Crowley and traced his face with his fingertips.  A contented smile curled the demon's lips as he leaned into the touch.  Soon he'd have to leave Aziraphale and return to Hell, but for tonight he had a small taste of Heaven.  Tonight they were on the beach under the stars at their home.

"Do you want me to change the name, angel?"

"Change the name?"

"The villa.  If it's going to be your home too, perhaps we ought to change the name."

"I don't know, I think Villa Daemonium is rather growing on me," the angel teased and moved closer.

Their legs were intertwined and Crowley took a sip of bubbling wine, then offered his cup to Aziraphale.  The angel drank and giggled happily.  Aziraphale smiled at him and threaded his fingers through Crowley's hair.  It was a golden moment.  One perfect memory the demon knew he'd never forget and that he'd summon in his mind to get him through the darkness.  Really, their entire time at the villa had been one long golden moment and Crowley knew he would hold onto the memories until the end of time itself.

***

"I wish we could freeze time and that this would never end," Aziraphale told Crowley as they smiled dreamily at each other.

"Well, I could freeze time, but I don't know if I could hold it for all eternity."

"You mean just around us, like in a ten mile radius, right?"

"Sure.  What else would I mean?" the demon deflected lightly.

What else could he mean, indeed?  Crowley, the kindly demon who was far from demonic, that had created stars and had an angel's face, didn't fit the mould of a demon.  Aziraphale had the misfortune to encounter Hastur and Ligur once.  They were what he expected a demon to be.  Corrupted in flesh and in mind, bent on spreading evil.  While Crowley wasn't precisely angelic, he didn't seem particularly evil.

If anything his methods, though Aziraphale imagined the demon would protest vehemently, weren't that different from Hers.  He created a scenario in which humans could sink into sin or choose to rise above, then stood back and let it unfold.

Gingerly, Aziraphale reached out and touched the snake tattoo on Crowley's face.  The golden eyes regarded him curiously but made no move to pull away

"Did you get this when you fell or did they put this on you after the Fall?"

"Lucifer placed it on me after the Fall, because I asked him to."

"Why, Crowley?"

"Partially so I'd never forget who I was and that there was no going back to who I'd been.  And in part, didn't look quite as demonic as the other demons, so it helped me to fit in a bit better.  It's part of why I was assigned to be Hell's field agent on earth.  Hastur is hard pressed to fit in on the best of days.  Me, the eyes are the only give away."

"And your wings, of course."

"Yeah, but I take care not to let human people see them.  Demons either, for that matter."

"Why do you have to hide your wings from other demons?"

"Only a few of us kept our wings in the Fall, angel.  It's easiest to conceal them and avoid discussion.  Now look up at the sky, it's starting."

Aziraphale pushed aside his questions and turned to look upwards at the sky.  Above them the velvety night sky had begun to sparkle.  Stars glittered in intricate patterns as if they were lace adorning the heavens.  Some were larger and brighter than other, but they all spread out before them in their glory.

"Oh my!"

"Beautiful, isn't it, angel?"  Crowley pointed to one particularly bright and large star.  "That isn't a star, that's the planet Venus.  But over there, that tiny orange dot, it won't be fully visible until near morning, that's Arcturus."

"What's that one there?" Aziraphale asked excitedly pointing at another light in the sky.  He'd never been especially drawn to the stars, but he felt Crowley's excitement and it was different seeing it through his eyes.

"That's would be Jupiter, rising in the sky above us.  It will be visible until the middle of the night, then disappear from our view.  The Romans call it the star of Jupiter, but it's actually the largest planet in this solar system.  That trio of stars near it are actually moons.  Human people won't understand this all for a long time.  Even when they start to, they'll never map the entire universe, only their small corner."

Aziraphale followed Crowley's finger as he pointed.  "I wish we could see it all better."

"Well, I could take you up there sometime.  But for tonight, how about if I miracle us up a star viewer?"

"Star viewer?"

"Oh, we used to use them before I fell so we could map out more easily where to place the next star and see where the others were,"  Crowley explained and then snapped his fingers.  A thin panel of glass roughly one square foot with a gold band around the edge appeared in his hand.  "Now, you hold it in front of you and look the object in the sky you want to see.  Then reach out with your mind and it will bring it into focus.  It takes some practice, but be patient."

"Really?  I'd like to see Jupiter then," Aziraphale said and held the glass out in front of him where the planet was located.  It suddenly seemed very close and he could see it.  "There's a huge red spot on it!"

"You're a natural!" Crowley praised him.

"Did you work with a star viewer very much?"

Caught up in star gazing, Crowley answered unthinkingly, "I invented it."

He invented the star viewer and created stars.  It wasn't demonic swagger, Crowley's face was alight as he looked at the sky.  There was a softness about him.  This had been his passion.  And then it was taken from him when he fell.  But why had he fallen?  There wasn't one thing Aziraphale had seen that suggested he'd deserved to fall.  If he was this kind as a demon, what had he been like before the Fall and how could She have done this to him?  The question sat uncomfortably in his mind.

"Here, now I'll have to summon it through the star viewer for you, but take a look at this," the demon rhapsodized and moved the star viewer and summoned forth a view.  He held his arms around Aziraphale as he held the viewer so they could look together.

"It looks like a series of glowing pink clouds.  What is it, Crowley?"

"That's a nebula, angel.  Sometimes they're left when a star explodes.  But this one is special.  It's a star nursery!"

"A star nursery," he echoed.

"It's where new stars are formed.  I helped build that one.  Over time, those clouds produce new stars.  Five thousand light years away, there may be a new star being born in the Omega Nebula as we speak."

"You must miss it," Aziraphale said softly.

"Not much I can do.  Besides, I've got something I love far more with me right now."

"Crowley, why did you fall?"

"I didn't really mean to fall, it just sort of happened."

"I didn't think falling was that easy."

"It was a lot of things, I asked questions and I hung out with the wrong people at the wrong time."

He asked questions.  That's why Crowley became a demon?

"Did you rebel?"

"No, but I was there when it happened and it was enough.  Wrong place, wrong time.  It is what it is, angel," Crowley sighed with resignation and shrugged.  "Let's focus on something more pleasant, eh?"

Crowley seemed resigned to his fate as a demon, but Aziraphale found himself wondering why had She done this to him?  The golden eyed demon had been an angel of some importance at one point, how could asking questions have condemned him?  If Crowley had been present at the rebellion, She would have known the truth that he hadn't rebelled against Her!  Why did She punish him?

"Did you deserve to fall?"

"I must have.  She wouldn't have let me fall otherwise," Crowley replied.

"What if She made a mistake?"

"Angel, you usually lecture me about the ineffable plan and all that.  Just forget it.  I fell, it's done.  Not like it's going to change."

"No," Aziraphale replied.  "I suppose you can't change."

"So are we good or-" the demon asked in a strangled tone.

"We're perfect, Crowley.  How about a bit more of the wine and then you show me your favorite star?"

His eyes looked upward at the sky as he waited for the wine and he wished yet again he could talk to Her for just a minute.  If he could just know what Her plan was for the two of them.  She wouldn't have let Crowley fall if he didn't deserve it without a good reason.  There had to be a reason.  Aziraphale needed to believe it was part of Her plan.  He clung to Crowley and drank the wine he offered.  The demon's embrace was solid and comforting.  Perhaps Her intentions would eventually become clear.

***

Crowley was relieved when Aziraphale relaxed against him once more.  It was understandable his angelic companion was curious about his past, but no good could come from it.  He'd served Her and loved Her, a tiny part of him still loved Her; however it did no good for him to dwell on it.  He was a demon and he'd gradually come to accept it.  Whatever part of Her plan brought Aziraphale into his life, he was grateful.

He kissed the side of Aziraphale's neck and was pleased when it elicited a soft moan of pleasure.  "Now if you're ready to see my favorite star, I'd like to show it to you."

"I'd like that very much!"

"Let me position the star viewer and I'll bring it into view so you may see.  This is my pride and joy, Alpha Centauri."

"It's a very big star," Aziraphale remarked as he looked at it.

"One of the biggest, it's bigger than the sun.  Now, Alpha Centauri has a secret.  The humans won't know about it for a long, long time, but I could share it with you.  I think you'll like the secret very much."

"What's the secret, Crowley?"

"Give me a moment to focus so it shows up properly through the star viewer," he said and focused momentarily until Alpha Centuri revealed its secret.

"There's two!" Aziraphale exclaimed in wonder.

"Two stars, circling each other-"

"Like Antonio and Flavius in the poem!" the angel cried with delight.

"Exactly like that.  It was an experiment I was trying when I created it, but then the other night when I heard the poem, it was my first thought."

"How marvelous!  You made a pair of stars like that thousands of years ago!"  Aziraphale began to tear up slightly.

"It's all right, angel," the demon soothed and miracled the star viewer away.

"I'm sorry, Crowley.  It's just so amazing to think of the two stars circling each other for real.  I know it isn't Antonio and Flavius of course-"

"No, but I'm glad I made it.  I didn't know why at the time, but I'd like to think of it as our stars.  That a part of you and me are in Alpha Centauri circling each other for eternity."

"I'd like that," the angel smiled despite a few tears spilling over.

Crowley kissed the tears away and held Aziraphale closely.  "I love you, angel."

"Do you think you could kiss me again, like you did earlier?" Aziraphale asked.

"Like this?"  The demon kissed the angel's forehead, then he kissed his cheek.  Finally he covered Aziraphale's mouth with his and kissed him slowly.  He might have waited a long time before kissing anyone, but kissing the angel was quite enjoyable.

"Could you kiss me until the sun comes up?"

A slight groan tore from the demon's throat at that thought.  "Trying to tempt me, angel?"

"Is it working?"

"Perhaps," Crowley replied and kissed Aziraphale.  He eased on top of him and relished the scent of him enveloping him as they kissed.  His cock began to throb as he felt Aziraphale twisting underneath him.   When the angel wrapped a leg around him to increase contact, he was surprised, but enjoyed the sweet torment.

He kissed down the angel's ears and neck and relished the sighs they brought forth.  Mentally he catalogued all the sensitive spots he discovered on Aziraphale's body.  Crowley relished the way the angel shuddered and whimpered when he licked and bit his earlobes.  The sudden arch of his back when he kissed Aziraphale's neck spoke volumes.

Aziraphale held onto him and tried to mimic his touch.  It wasn't smooth, but it was endearing and it was his angel which made it far more erotic than all his other experiences put together.

"Crowley," the angel murmured as the demon's hands skimmed the pale blue tunic to find Aziraphale's nipples and see what reaction he got.

"Hmmm, what is it angel?"

"Oh," Aziraphale gasped.  "That's nice.  But that's not what I wanted to ask about or say.  I'm not quite sure how to put this."

The demon looked up and smiled encouragingly.  "What is it, love?"

"I think I'm ready to make an effort.  I mean a cock, that is."

"Angel, that's a wonderful thought, but there's no need to rush this.  We're going back to our head offices in the next day or so and won't see each other for who knows how long.  I wouldn't feel right having one night with you and then leaving you.  You're too important."

"That's just it Crowley, we won't see each other.  I don't want to be apart from you."

"I don't either, angel.  But there's not a lot of choice.  Angel, demon.  Different sides."

"When you asked me to come with you, you said no sides, just our own."

Crowley kissed Aziraphale lightly.  "And so we have had our own side these past couple of days, but we have to return to head office eventually."

"What if we didn't have different head offices to report to?"

"She isn't going to take me back.  Not ever."

"I could fall,” Aziraphale said softly.

The demon drew back with a horrified expression.  "Angel!  No!  There is no way I'd ever allow you to fall!"

"Let me?  Crowley, I want you to help me fall!"

"Aziraphale, listen to me.  Falling is- it’s the worst.  You- I don't want that pain for you.  You don't know what it's like to lose Her.  To lose everything about yourself.  You'd be destroyed in your soul and you'd hate me for allowing you to fall."

"But you're good, Crowley.  I've seen it.  You as a demon are one of the kindest souls I've ever known.  I don't believe you should have fallen, but you obviously have kept your goodness.  If you can fall and keep your goodness-'

Crowley stood up and looked at the water, his mind was reeling.  Aziraphale had no idea what he was talking about.  He turned and knelt down in front of him.  "Every day, I have to fight to keep some kernel of what I was and hide it inside myself because if they ever realized in Hell, they would not rest until they destroyed it, angel.  You don't see all the things I'm forced to do.  I'm barely able to hold on doing those things."

"It would be different if we were doing them together."

"I would rather fall, all over again a thousand times - no make that ten thousand times, before I'd want you to spend one day in my shoes, Aziraphale."

"She was wrong to let you fall."

The demon covered the angel's mouth with his hand.  "No!  Don't talk like that.  Please angel, I'm begging you.  Don't even think that."

"Then make love to me, Crowley."

The demon stared at him in disbelief.  Why would the angel suddenly change course? Unless- Crowley stared at him and froze.  Understanding began to dawn on him "You think if we make love, you'll fall.  Because I’m a demon and giving yourself to me willingly, that you could fall."

"That's up to Her.  I love Her.  But I love you more."

"No! No!  No!  Angel," Crowley pleaded.  "Aziraphale, you can't talk like this.  Please!  I fell because I was in a position that I should have known better, done better.  She did what She thought was right with me."

"Maybe She was wrong."

"What have I done?!  Two days with me and you're questioning Her?!  Now listen to me, angel.  You aren't thinking clearly.  It's a bit too much wine.  You need to sober up and let's forget all about this."

Aziraphale stood up and turned his back to Crowley.  "I'm not drunk.  And do you think I could ever forget this?"

"You have to," the demon said and stood up.  He walked towards the angel and took him in his arms.  "Please Aziraphale.  If you truly love me, do this one thing for me."

"And what would you have me forget, Crowley?  Tonight?  The past two days?  The fact I'm in love with you?"

The demon looked at the angel and wondered if his heart was going to actually break or if instead, it would crush under the weight of realization that Aziraphale would fall if he didn't stop him.

"Yes," he replied at last.  "I think it would best if you forgot you loved me.  I flew too close to the sun angel, and now we're both paying the price."

Aziraphale's expression softened, "I love you.  Love is never wrong.  Who needs the sun when we have Alpha Centauri?"

Two stars orbiting each other for eternity and never touching, Crowley thought sadly.  "I think you're right, angel.  We have Alpha Centauri."

"So you admit you love me?"

Crowley drew Aziraphale tightly against him and kissed him.  Bittersweet, the demon poured all his love into the kiss, continuing for several minutes.  Holding onto the angel he never wanted to let go of but knew he had to.
When he finally pulled back, Crowley said, "I love you, Aziraphale and I'll protect you until the end of time itself.  Even from yourself."

Against the angel's back, the demon raised two fingers, pulling on the energy of Hell, and miracled his angelic lover asleep.  Shaking, he snapped his fingers and miracled them into Aziraphale's room.  As tenderly as possible, he laid Aziraphale on the bed.  Then he removed his sigil pin from the pale blue tunic and set it aside; before miracling onto the angel the humble white tunic with the gold angel wing pin.

After staring for several long minutes, he walked out onto the large balcony that overlooked the gardens below.  Crowley sank to his knees, numb with grief.  He couldn't let Aziraphale fall, he loved him too much to let him.  He also knew that if he didn't prevent it, that one day either the angel would figure out how to fall on his own or that the demon in a moment of weakness would give into temptation and make love to him.  Either way, he had to stop this.

The night air had begun to cool.  In a few hours it would be dawn and Crowley didn't have long.  The demonic energy he'd used to put the angel to sleep would last several more hours at the most.  Even if he summoned all the powers of Hell, it wouldn't be enough.  He had to think of something.  Tilting his head backwards, he stared at the stars, his eyes wandering towards Alpha Centauri.  Without the star viewer, it wasn't clear, but Crowley could still see.  Every star he'd ever created, he could still see.  It was one of the few things left to him after the Fall.

Crowley couldn't create stars anymore, but She hadn't taken his ability to know them and see them as he once had.  Most of the angels lost their wings in the Fall, but She let him keep his.  He had fallen further than most of the others.  The Morningstar and the Starmaker had fallen from the greatest height.  Their sins had been different and they chose different paths after the Fall.  But both had kept their wings and memories from before the Fall.  She had given them a gift even as they fell from Her Grace.

Would She hear him if he reached out to Her?  Crowley had only reached out to her once since the Fall.  When he rose from the pool of boiling sulphur and saw former angels screaming in agony, he'd turned quietly in on himself.  Lucifer had proclaimed himself leader and declared war on Heaven and Her latest creation, Earth.  He'd hidden in a corner and prayed to Her that he wouldn't fall further and that he could hold onto what little bit of Her Light still dwelled within him.   She hadn't answered him, not directly at least, but perhaps She heard him nevertheless.

Moments later, Lucifer had said, "Crawley, I want you to get up there to earth and make some trouble."

He'd obeyed, there was little choice.  But things would have been very different had it been Hastur or Beelzebub sent into the garden.  Could it be that She had put the thought to send him instead of another demon?  If She had listened to him then, would She listen to him now?

"I know you can hear me.  I have no right to ask you for anything.  But this is Aziraphale," Crowley pleaded.  "He's a principality and not always the best at his job, however he has the best and purest heart of any angel I've ever known.  I love him and I was foolish enough to make him love me back.  And I need to stop him."

A sob broke from Crowley as he spoke.

"He doesn't understand what he's saying.  It's my fault.  Any sin or wrongdoing, it's mine.  I deserve to be punished, not him.  Make me suffer to the end of days, but please not Aziraphale. "

The demon wiped his eyes and squared his shoulders as he looked upwards.

"I need your help.  My demonic powers aren't enough to make him forget the past few days.  If I'm going to put him back on the right path, he'll need to forget.  So I'm asking you."

Crowley hesitated, it was so much to ask.  She might simply smite him on the spot, but it was for Aziraphale and that alone was worth taking the risk.

"Mother, please let me access my powers just this once for him.  Destroy me, visit any torment on me you wish, it's a small price to pay for him."

There was no response, but he didn't expect She would give him a direct answer.

"Only one way to find out," Crowley murmured and stood up.

Walking in to Aziraphale, he took the sleeping angel's hands and kissed them.  It was now or never, he'd know soon enough if She was going to help him.

Crowley hesitated a moment, then raised his hand and for the first time since he fell, gestured downwards, pulling on the power of Heaven.  A faint glow covered Aziraphale and the demon felt a surge of pain as the celestial power coursed through him into the angel.  She was granting his request and he was about to destroy his own heart.

"Angel, I want you to listen to me.  The past couple of days, you didn't fall in love with me.  We never-” Crowley stumbled as a lump formed in his throat.  "We never kissed.  There was no embracing or physical intimacy of any kind."

Tears started to fall from the golden eyes as he spoke.

"You spent a couple days with your best friend and had fun, even though I made stupid demonic jokes.  We drank too much and a lot of the details are fuzzy."

Crowley started to cry harder.

"There wasn't any poem with Flavius and Antonio and I never showed you Alpha Centauri.  The stars bring you a sense of comfort, but you won't remember anything of the star viewer or me holding you and showing you my creations.  I'm just a run of the mill demon, I'm not the Starmaker.  This isn't your home, you'll have only vague memories of the villa and the oysters."

The demon paused as a sob broke loose and he paused to compose himself once more.

"I'm a demon.  You never forget that.  Never let me forget that," he instructed.  "Remind me that you're an angel and I'm fallen.  Put me in my place.  Never hesitate to ask me for anything, you know I'd do anything for you because I'm your best friend."

It hadn't hurt this badly since the Fall, but he had no choice.  He had to save Aziraphale from falling.

"If a day ever comes that I'm forgiven and worthy of your love, I promise I'll tell you the truth and beg your forgiveness.  This is wrong of me and I wish desperately there was any other way, but I have to protect you."

The pain was excruciating as the golden light faded.  She had let him access his former powers and the deed was done.

Sinking to his knees beside the bed, Crowley took Aziraphale's hand and looked at him.

"From this day forward, I vow that I'll never touch my wings again until the day you may access yours.  I promise to always watch over you and protect you, no matter the cost.  And lastly, I vow that no matter what Hell demands or does to me, I'll never touch anyone but you ever again.  I'll be faithful to the memory of us.  I swear all this by Her."

Crowley stood and pressed a kiss to Aziraphale's lips.  "I love you, angel."

Then he left the room and went to the beach.  He sat on the couch they'd watched the stars on, buried his face against the arm and wept.

***

Aziraphale woke up groggily and sat up.  Had he passed out?  His head wasn't throbbing, although there was a strange sensation between his legs.  He was about to look when the he heard a noise.

"Up at last, I see," Crowley said from the doorway.  His eyes were covered with eye shades once more.  "What do you remember about last night?"

"Oysters and -" the angel struggled.  "Wine.  You miracled up some sort of wine with bubbles in it."

"Anything else?"

"Is there anything else?"

"We looked at the stars and kissed of course."

Annoyed, Aziraphale rolled his eyes, "Very funny, Crowley.  What sort of demonic things are you doing today?"

"Trip to head office later.  Probably some temptations and whatnot.

"I should get back to head office too.  Don't want Gabriel angry with me."

Crowley looked uncertain for a moment, then gave him a devilish smile.  "May I tempt you to a spot of lunch first?"

Aziraphale hesitated a moment, then smiled.  "Temptation accomplished."

"Excellent. I'll wait for you outside, angel."

The demon turned and left.  Aziraphale waited until he heard him walk down the stairs before getting out of bed and closing the door.  Then he pulled his toga and tunic up to look at where the strange sensation was coming from.  It had been odd, but when Crowley had come in the room, it had gotten worse.

Between his legs, an effort peered back at him.

"Oh good Lord!"

How in the Hell had this happened?  He'd better not let Crowley know, the demon would think it was hilarious.  As he thought about Crowley, Aziraphale's effort started to swell and stand upwards.

"You bad serpent," the angel chided, uncertain whether he meant his flesh or his demonic host.

He lowered his garments and went to find Crowley for lunch.

***

Crowley watched as Aziraphale spread pâté on a small flat square of bread.  He'd miss feeding him, but this was safer.  The angel bit into it and made a sound of pleasure.  Another time it might be arousing, but today it made the demon feel sad.

"It's been fun these past few days," the angel said in between bites.

"Indeed," Crowley agreed, his eyes hidden behind his eye shades as he blinked back tears that threatened to fall.

"Do you think we might do it again some time?  I mean, I know you have your side and I have mine, but it's been rather nice getting away and-"

"Being on our own side," the demon interjected.

"You shouldn't say that.  It isn't appropriate."

"I like inappropriate."

"Well, it's still not nice, Crowley."

The demon gave a bitter smile as he replied, "I'm a demon.  Demons aren't nice, angel.  Rather our raison d'etre."

Aziraphale laughed and shook his head as he made up another bite of pate.  Their easy friendship was still there and the angel didn't remember the parts of the past couple days he'd been meant to forget.  It hurt, but as Crowley reflected from behind the eye shades, it was enough to know his angel was safe.  He would never stop loving Aziraphale, but at least they were friends.  Best friends.

"What would you say to a toast?" Crowley suggested as he handed the angel a cup of wine.

"To what?"

"To being best friends, angel."

They touched cups and drank deeply.  For now it was enough, Crowley decided and smiled a bittersweet smile.