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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

To his utter astonishment, Aziraphale adored his classes. They had started straight in with poetry, from The Odyssey up to Kate Tempest, it was mind blowing. He was just leaving a particularly interesting seminar on symbolism in sonnets when he heard an all too familiar voice creep up behind him.

“Are you avoiding me, angel?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale span around to see him, leaning against the wall as if he had been poured there. Had he been waiting outside the classroom for him? He hadn’t seen Crowley since that night at Gabriel’s disastrous house party. It had been weeks and no matter how hard he had tried in those first few days, he could find no trace of Crowley around the university. He could barely even find out what the older boy was studying. Yet here he was, just lingering outside his classroom. He scowled at how easily the boy seemed to think it was to pop in and out of his life. With lectures and his flatmates, he had just managed to convince himself that it had been a silly bout of rebellion. He had been starting uni, his first time unsupervised and he had gotten a little too drunk, done something a little too silly. He half believed that one day it would be a funny story to tell at dinner parties. But there Crowley was again, making that self-same blush creep up Aziraphale’s neck with just five insolent words.

“I have a name, as you well know.” Aziraphale snapped.
“You know what Aziraphale? I think you are avoiding me.” He said, stressing his name. His smile was infuriating, it said he knew exactly what effect he was having on the younger boy and he delighted in it.
“I can’t imagine why.” He muttered sarcastically, pulling his backpack further up his shoulders and taking off down the corridor. Crowley pushed off the wall, matching his pace.
“Nor can I. We’ve had some fun together.” Crowley smiled, walking backwards as he tried to stay in Aziraphale’s eye-line.
“Fun that doesn’t seem to end well for me.” He sighed.
“I’d object to that analysis.” Crowley smiled, not even faltering at his harsh tone. “I mean you certainly seemed to be enjoying it at the time, maybe even more than I was…”
“Really? Well I suppose it’s alright for you, you just run off into the night. It’s me left with the existential crisis.” Aziraphale said. He stopped walking suddenly, taking a little bit of savage happiness from seeing Crowley unbalanced as he tried to stop just as quickly.
“And what existential crisis would that be, angel?” He asked, recovering himself to lean nonchalantly against the wall. Aziraphale watched the last of his class filter past and Crowley leaned forwards expectantly.

“I’m not out Crowley... barely even to myself.” He muttered, tugging anxiously at the collar of his shirt.
“Oh...” He said, rocking back on his heels, eyebrows raised behind those bloody sunglasses. Aziraphale could see what that meant clearly on his face. Baggage, family drama, self-loathing. Not what you wanted to get bogged down in when you were looking for ‘a bit of fun’.
“Quite.” Aziraphale said, tone clipped. He went to step neatly around him, but a long-fingered hand closed around his wrist. He looked back at him in surprise.
“So when I first kissed you...?” he asked, far too loudly for Aziraphale’s liking. He glanced around quickly before he answered. It had become common knowledge that Gabriel’s baby brother was on campus. It would only take one person to look over. It would be like they were holding hands, whispering in an abandoned hallway. Aziraphale pushed away the way that thought made him feel and focused back in on that first night. He dropped his eyes to the hand around his wrist.
“I’d never kissed a boy.” Aziraphale said. “Is that what you wanted to know?” He could feel his cheeks warming. He hated how inexperienced he must sound to Crowley. This probably wasn’t the kind of thing you were meant to say to someone you’d kissed clandestinely.
“A girl?” Crowley pushed.
“Once. But I didn’t like it so I didn’t make a habit of it.” He said primly. “Wouldn’t have been fair on anyone involved.”

“Let me take you on a date.” Crowley said suddenly. Aziraphale’s head shot up, confusion clear on his face. Surely those admissions should have scared him off.
“I don’t think so.” Aziraphale said quietly. He wound his arms around himself, feeling the panic set in. He blinked furiously, keeping himself in the present.
“Why not?” Crowley demanded, looking genuinely affronted. Aziraphale guesses he didn’t get turned down all that often. Who in their right mind would say no to someone like him?
“A lot of people have been telling me things about you, Crowley.” He said simply. His eyes lingered on the slender hand still looped around his wrist.
“What type of things?” Crowley asked softly.
“Bad things.” He said, averting his eyes as he pulled his hand back.
“I won’t give up, angel.” Crowley promised.
“I can’t Crowley.” He whispered, backing away.
“Why not?” He asked, following him.
“Gabe…”
“You’re not his shadow, Aziraphale. You’re your own person. Do you know that?” He frowned.  His panic was reaching new heights as Crowley tilted his sunglasses to peer at him in concern.
“Sorry. I need to get to another lecture.” He murmured, shaking his head quickly. He managed to summon up a tentative smile to mask his panic as he turned away. He pulled his hood up, resisting the urge to glance back as he slipped out of the building, heading for anywhere that Crowley wasn’t.

***

Aziraphale had found his happy place. Up on the top floor of the library, no talking was allowed so it always seemed deserted. You could jus about hear the chatter floating up from the floors below. There were miles and miles of fiction and poetry up here and Aziraphale had already overloaded a book bag and was starting to pile up more greedily against his chest. He and Anathema had snagged a cozy couch in the very corner and he fully intended to spend the afternoon lazily flicking through the tomes to get a bit of a firmer grounding in classic poetry. With a cup of tea to hand, it sounded perfect.

“Date. Me and you. Right now.” Crowley hissed, materialising over Aziraphale’s shoulder.  He jumped so violently that the stack of thin books in his arms wobbled. He swayed with them, pulling back sharply as a palm pressed to his back to steady him.
“Aren’t there any other first years for you to prey on? That’s your type, isn’t it?” He muttered back, glancing around for the librarian who liked to swoop down on chattering students. He didn’t mean anything by it, not really, but it was cutting and it gave him a moment of reprieve from whatever was coming next. Aziraphale took it as a chance to march his pile of books back to his little haven, distinctly hearing Crowley’s footsteps following along behind him in the muffled silence of the room. Anathema glanced up from her textbook, eyes widening rapidly as she glanced between the two of them. Aziraphale shook his head tersely as she went to say something.
“Who’s been telling you that? You know what it doesn’t matter. Whatever I said, I’m sorry.” He said, putting himself in the seat opposite Aziraphale.

“Forget it, Crowley.” He whispered, exasperated. Anathema’s eyes widened further at this, her fingers paling as she gripped the book in an effort not to intervene.  Crowley observed him for a moment longer, bouncing in his seat with the energy he was trying to contain. He gave Aziraphale a dark look and bounced up again. Anathema dropped her book in surprise at the sudden movement, but Crowley gracefully snatched it out of the air, as if it were hanging there waiting for him. “Don’t mention it, book girl.” He muttered, putting it back on the table with a heavy thump before he stalked away. It earned them a long “shhhhhhhh.” From the librarian. Aziraphale sent her an apologetic smile.

“What’s with that guy?” Anathema asked, turning in her seat to watch him go.
“I don’t think he’s all that used to rejection. I hope he’ll give up soon.” Aziraphale said, pulling a volume into his lap and opening it decisively.
“We both know that isn’t true Aziraphale.” She said gently, putting a hand over his and taking the book away. He swallowed and focused on the small print beneath an illustration.
“Just because he is ... exactly my type” Aziraphale admitted with a sigh “doesn’t mean I have to give in.” He glanced up to her, expecting anything except the deep worry in her expression.
“I don’t think this is about Crowley.” She told him.
“It absolutely is.” Aziraphale insisted, pulling his hand back quickly.
“I think this about you not wanting to act on being gay.” She said, eyes knowing.
“Since when are you taking psychology, Freud?” He snapped, regretting his tone instantly “Sorry but no, it’s absolutely about him being best friends with someone who hurt Gabriel very badly.” He said.
“It wasn’t Crowley though, was it?” She tried to reason. Aziraphale shook his head quickly.
“No but-“ he argued.
“I’m worried about you Aziraphale. Next time, just say yes. That way at least you know what it’s like.” She asked, wide eyed even without her glasses perched on her nose. He really couldn’t say no to that face. He nodded and she slid his book back into his hands.

***

It was too early to be on campus. This chilling fog that seemed to permanently enclose the city was especially potent in the seven am half-light. Aziraphale was in the university basement, in one of the music practice rooms. He was pulling notes out of his base with technical accuracy but they were falling dead against the insulated walls. He was never much of a performer but the energy was lacking even more than usual. He was grateful when his phone chirped and gave him the excuse to stop playing. It was Gabriel.

Hey little brother. How are lectures going? Uri wants to know if you want to come over for pizza on Saturday? It’ll be nice to catch up. Mum is asking after you, drop her a message – G
Aziraphale sighed. He had been consciously avoiding his real life for as long as he could manage.
Hi Gabe! Pizza sounds great. Sorry, I’ve had so much work to do, I’ll see you on Saturday – A.
 He hit send and put the guitar in its case. There was no point in trying to plough on. He’d go find a cup of tea and while away an hour or two until his first class started.

He pulled the door closed gently behind him, hearing the lock click soundly. As he turned back to start the trudge along the corridor, he collided into something that, to his sleep deprived mind, felt very solid.
“Aziraphale!” It said apologetically, its hands grabbing his shoulders to keep him upright.
“Oh, hello Anthony.” he said, blushing as he righted himself, the instrument case on his back swaying.
“Crowley, please.” he corrected, looking uncomfortable. Aziraphale glanced at him, realising that he wasn't wearing his glasses. His eyes looked just as bright as they had at the party, when he had assumed he was wearing contacts. He realised he had been staring for too long.
“Of course. I didn’t know you played.” Aziraphale said, looking at the small case slung over his shoulder.

“Me either ... about you I mean. What do you play?” Crowley asked.
“Bass guitar.” Aziraphale admitted.
“Really? You?” Crowley asked, his eyebrows shooting up into his floppy hairline. Aziraphale made himself focus on his eyes again but that didn't make him any more coherent. It was too early for this, but the conversation was so ... calm. It was harder to storm away when Crowley was so polite.
“I know, it doesn’t suit me. It was a gift.” he said, putting the case on his back.
“Someone I should be jealous of?” he asked, that slight cockiness filtering back into his tone.
“My dad.... what about you?” Aziraphale said quickly.
“My dad?” Crowley frowned. "I think it's a little early for such deep conversations, angel."
“Your instrument. I mean, what do you play?” Aziraphale said, letting himself get flustered again at the slightest teasing.

“A little bit of everything. Trying to pick up the violin at the minute though.” he said, shrugging the case into his arms. He unzipped it and held the instrument towards Aziraphale. He glanced up, asking permission. Crowley nodded. Aziraphale pulled the instrument from the plush red velvet of its case as delicately. It was old, probably an heirloom.
“Wow. Why are you practicing so early?” he asked, eyes still on the instrument he was turning over in his hands.
“Early? It’s a late night for me Aziraphale, not an early morning. I just finished work.” There was a content amusement in his features.
“Oh. You must be tired. I’ll let you ...” he said, finally looking up from the beautiful instrument.
“Aziraphale?” Crowley asked, hesitating.
“Yes?” he prompted, putting the violin to bed.
“Take you for breakfast?” he asked, an eyebrow arched with aching hopefulness.

Aziraphale worried his bottom lip with his teeth as he considered. “Why won’t you give up?” he asked quietly. Because it's a trick. He could never like you. He's out of your league. Because he knows he can. The thoughts piled atop one another.
“Because ... I want to talk to you.” he said, his confusion just as great and sincere as Aziraphale's own.
“You want to talk?” he echoed.
“Yeah.” he said, looking embarrassed. He titled his head, looking as though he was wavering.

“Lead on...” Aziraphale said quickly. Crowley's eyes widened in a childish way that Aziraphale found rather endearing. He smiled shyly at him.
“Dinner?” cruelty asked eventually.
“It’s seven am.” Aziraphale reminded him.
“Right. Breakfast?" he corrected himself. Aziraphale nodded. Crowley turned on his heel and started striding away. Aziraphale rushed to keep up, his guitar case weighing him down.

"Erm Crowley?" He panted.
"Oh sorry." He said, shortening his steps so they could keep a comfortable pace with one another. He led him off campus and into the city centre. It was only when he turned down a dingy looking side street that Aziraphale hesitated.
"Don't trust me much, do you angel?" Crowley asked. Aziraphale blushed.
"Just never been to this side of town before." He said, following him quickly. Crowley grinned as he opened a door.
"Is this where you live?" He asked in confusion.

"No. I live with a bunch of third years near uni." He said. He held the door open with a flourish, smirking as a blushing Aziraphale made his awkward way past him. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the semi darkness. He was in a bar. He followed Crowley out to an area full of windows and looked around. Plants covered every surface and colourful murals adorned the walls. In the corner, a small stage stood, with a microphone in its centre. There were leaflets on the table for poetry readings, open mic nights and live bands.

"A bit early for you isn't, Crowley?" A fond voice called. Aziraphale glanced up to where a guy in his 30s leant on the bar, totally unsurprised to see Crowley had let himself in.
"Something like that." Crowley smiled. "Two of your finest please." He smiled.
"Anything for you." He said, returning to the kitchen.

Crowley sank down into a chair and Aziraphale put his bags aside, sitting opposite him. He played with his hands, not sure what to say. “It was your dad's then, the guitar?” Crowley said.
“Yeah, he left it for me.” Aziraphale said, glancing at the bag.
“Oh, he’s gone? I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.” Crowley said.
“What? Oh god no! No. He’s alive, very much alive. He left us.” Aziraphale shrugged.
“Oh, that’s worse.” Crowley blurted.
“You think so?” he asked, surprised.
“Yeah. At least if he were dead it wouldn’t have been his choice to go.”
“Well ... good riddance.” Aziraphale shrugged.
“Bit of a bastard?” he surmised.
“Where do you think Gabriel gets it from?” he joked, regretting it when he saw Crowley's expression darken.
“Bit of a temper I’d heard ...” he murmured
“What?” Aziraphale frowned. The last thing he would expect anyone to say about his brother was that he was aggressive. He was too nice for that.

A long silence stretched between then. A distant rattling started up until the barman was by their side, putting a pot of tea in front of Aziraphale, and the biggest mug of coffee he'd ever seen in front of Crowley. The tension lifted as Aziraphale began the ritual of pouring his tea. It settled him as much as the drink itself.

“Maybe it’s best we don’t talk about this ... two sides to every story and all that. We obviously seemed ... predisposed to a side.” Crowley said, trying to rekindle the mood.
“I don’t know anything about it. He never even told me he was seeing anyone.” Aziraphale sighed, but lost the matter drop. Crowley simply took a deep draught of his coffee. It seemed to revive him.

“So when am I going to hear you play?”  he asked suddenly, eyes glowing at the prospect.
“I don’t play in front of people.” Aziraphale smiled shyly.
“Not even if I asked nicely?” he purred, leaning over the table between them. Aziraphale felt their knees brush together and he glanced out of the window purposefully, focusing on a plant in the window box.
“I don’t know if you’re capable of that.” Aziraphale teased without looking back, his lips curving up into that hint of a wicked smile they sometimes betrayed.
“Angel, would you do me the absolute honour, of playing for me?” Crowley asked sweetly, laying his hand on top of Aziraphale's. He looked back at the two hands quickly. Crowley was unabashed, letting it stay there. Even in the empty bar it felt loud, yet somehow it narrowed the whole room down to their table. Oh Aziraphale was in trouble, he knew.

"I don't exactly have much stage presence." He managed to mumble.
"I don't care." He smiled, leaning even further over the table.
“I ... I have class.”  Aziraphale said. Crowley sighed and sat back, moving his hand back to his mug. Aziraphale was shocked at how jealous of a coffee mug he could be. He had pushed him away again.
“Another time then.” Crowley shrugged, affecting a disinterest that made Aziraphale squirm. He was horrified by how much he wanted this boy to want his attention.
“I really would like to play with you. That is ...” he flustered, blushing all the more severely when two breakfasts were deposited in front of them at the last minute. Crowley started eating and Aziraphale picked up hi knife to copy him, hesitating.
“Come to the music rooms tomorrow?” Aziraphale asked more boldly than he would have given himself credit for.
“Are you asking me on a second date, angel?” Crowley said, a smirk curling the corner of his lip.
“Oh behave...” Aziraphale demurred, but he wasn't sure that Crowley knew how.
“Are you, Aziraphale?” Crowley pressed.
“Well ... you’re much nicer than you pretend to be. Yes. I am asking to see you again.” he said, trying to take control of the situation.
“I’ll think about it.” He said, with a wicked grin.

They fell into much gentler conversation after that, though Crowley seemed quite content to listen, only pitching in with questions tailored to draw long, intrusive answers from Aziraphale. Breakfast stretched on until almost noon. It was the first time Aziraphale had missed a class, but he found he didn't entirely care, do long as he could keep earning those smiles. Their rarity made them all the more valuable to him, like an eclipse that only he could see. Eventually they both had to concede that work or sleep was more important than Aziraphale's analysis of which season was superior. They reluctantly parted ways, Crowley heading for home and Aziraphale for the library, the only sure fire place to find Anathema.

***

Aziraphale had been trying to get to sleep for hours. Every time he closed his eyes, his thoughts tugged them open again. Staring at the ceiling in the blue light was the only way stop other images coming to him. Some were innocent enough, the confusing contrasts of devil horns and a precious violin. Others were startling inventions of his own mind; the kind he didn’t think he was quite capable of producing on his own. Aziraphale groaned and rolled over, trying to figure out which of the Crowley’s he had met was the genuine one/ Was it the musician with the tender smile, who listened to him ramble on in contentment? Or was it the one he had been warned about, the one who had hounded him like his affection was a game, the demon?

He sat up in bed and flicked on his lamp. Even if he couldn’t quite solve that puzzle yet, there was some strand of certainty he could find. Aziraphale grabbed a handful of pins from his desk and pulled the flag from its hiding spot in the depths of his wardrobe. It was still perfectly folded, forming a neat grid of creases when he shook it out. Climbing carefully onto the bed, he tacked the four corners of the flag up to the wall. it wasn’t perfect, the fabric bowing slightly, but it was up. He sat in the middle of the bed and stared up at it, wondering at the sudden burst of confidence that had made him do it.

He needed to talk to Gabriel.

That wave of confidence ebbed just as suddenly as it had washed ashore.

Chapter Text

It was Sandy who opened the door. All of Aziraphale's worries tripled just at the sight of his pale eyes. "Hey Azi. We weren't expecting you." His smile was friendly, but his eyes promised to ruin your week.
"Yeah I needed a word with Gabriel, is he about?" He asked, shifting from foot to foot to ward off the chill. 

Aziraphale knew he should have called ahead or at least texted his brother, but hadn’t trusted himself to actually make it to his house without chickening out. He was there to have a conversation that he rather wanted to avoid.
“He's not up yet.” Sandy said, not making a move to invite him in to wait.
“Oh ... right. He’s usually an early bird.” Aziraphale smiled uncomfortably. He didn’t respond to that, just watching Aziraphale grow more awkward. He was about to give up when Uri passed through the hallway and did a double take.
“Is that my favourite first year?” she called. Aziraphale gave a sigh of relief as she pushed Sandy out of the way. She reached for his arm and dragged him in. “Fancy leaving him out in the rain.” She chided her flatmate, pulling Aziraphale into the poky kitchen.

“What brings you here so early? We weren’t expecting you til tomorrow” She said, getting a pile of mugs from the cupboard. She didn’t need to ask how he took it. 
“I needed to talk to Gabriel.” He admitted.
“You want to me to wake him up?” She asked.
“I don’t want to get you in trouble.” He said, accepting the tea she handed him.
“Trust me, it won’t be me in trouble.” She said meaningfully, passing sandy a tray of teas and coffees before waving him away.
“Oh ... things still aren’t good then, after the party?” He asked tentatively once they were alone.  She sighed, taking a sip of her tea as she thought about it. 
“I dunno. We talked it out, but I feel like there’s more to it than he’s telling me, even though he promised there isn’t. It seems he's better at keeping secrets than either of us thought.” She said quietly. 
“Did he tell you why he never told me?” He asked, staring into his mug so he didn’t need to look at her.
“Oh Azi. It’s really upset you, hasn’t it?” She said softly. Aziraphale looked up quickly.
“Oh no no.” He said. It had made perfect sense, after all he had a secret he didn’t want to share too. He could understand perfectly. “I just wondered if there was a specific reason, he seemed okay with his friends knowing.” He shrugged.
“Well we all thought you knew.” Uri promised him. 

She looked up sharply as Gabriel’s door opened. Aziraphale had to stare for a full minute to make sure the figure coming out of the room was his brother. He looked haggard. 

He stopped short knew he saw the two of them in cahoots. His bloodshot eyes widened as he glanced between them. Aziraphale watched as Uriel's face became a perfectly controlled mask of civility. “Gabriel.” She said.
“Morning Uri. What are you doing here Azi? Wait did I sleep though a whole day?” He asked.
“No, it’s still Friday.” Aziraphale said, wondering what could have put his brother in such a state.
“Your brother wanted talk to you. I think it’s overdue.” She said curtly. They exchanged a meaningful look that was more of a conversation, yet she still went over and gave him a cup of tea before she departed.

Gabriel looked up the stairs after her helplessly for a moment before he looked back to Aziraphale. “I can come back later if now isn’t good...” Aziraphale said, knowing he wouldn’t have the confidence to try again. A hasty retreat seemed to be the best option.
“No. No it’s fine. Come into my room, otherwise the others will come in.” He said, leading Aziraphale back across the lounge to his room. He hesitated in the doorway, surveying the detestation in the room. “Have you been robbed?” Aziraphale asked, somewhat insensitively. Gabriel gave a humourless laugh, gesturing for him to close the door. He did as he was told and went to perch on the window seat, cradling his tea. Gabriel made a half-hearted attempt to push away some of the piled up clothes and sat on the bed. 
“Sorry about the mess.” He said flatly.
“Are you okay Gabriel?” Aziraphale asked, frowning.
“Fantastic.” He said bitterly. He pulled himself together and added “Sorry Aziraphale, you came to see me. What’s up?”

Aziraphale paused. He didn’t really want to have this conversation with Gabe in a good mood, let alone whatever this was. He didn’t have a clue where to start. Suddenly it was overwhelming, just a few impossible words separating him from being out. Once he said it would be true. Flirting with Crowley and putting up a flag was one thing, but coming out was another. He would never be able to take it back, to go back in where it was safe and loving. It would change their relationship forever. Gabe would never be able to change his reaction either. This moment would define each of them to the other.

“Aziraphale? You still with me?” Gabriel joked half-heartedly, waving a hand in front of his little brothers face.
“Oh, Sorry. I just need to talk to you.” He said, putting his cup aside and pulling his sleeves over his hands. Gabriel’s eyes narrowed.
“Are you dropping out already? Jesus I know you weren’t keen on coming to uni Azi but you haven’t given it a chance yet.” He said. Aziraphale looked at him in confusion. He had almost forgotten how resistant he had been about coming to university, how long his mother and Gabriel had bargained and schemed to get him there.
“N...no I love it here.” He said, clenching and loosening his fists at the judgement in his brother’s tone. “Forget it I shouldn’t have come.” He murmured. Crowley’s words rang in his mind bit of a temper I’d heard. Suddenly it didn’t seem quite so smart to tell him anything.
“No, look sorry Azi. I’ve just not been sleeping too well. What’s up?” He asked, forcing a non-judgemental smile. Aziraphale nodded and steeled himself, this was his brother who had shouted at bullies and carried him on his shoulders. Gabriel had always been there for him, especially when their father was being ...their father.

Aziraphale took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something but I don’t really know how.” He said.
“You can tell me anything Aziraphale.” He said so kindly that Aziraphale believed him.
“Well you know I've always kind of been different to you? All my friends were girls bit I’ve never fancied any of them, and I was never any good at sports or maths or science. I was bullied a lot." He reflected. 
"You were a special kid Aziraphale, so imaginative, so carefree until you were a teenager. Kids pick on things they don't understand. Why are you bringing this up now?" He asked, brows furrowed in concern and confusion. "Is someone bullying you? The university has a really good zero tolerance policy-"
"They were right Gabe. There was something different about me. It's taken me this long to admit it, even to myself ... I think I’m gay.” He said quietly, staring at the carpet. He felt shame and fear clawing its way up his throat, burning his face. He could hear the taunts and the slurs from every playground, feel the glances in every p.e. locker room. He felt the rush he got whenever that boy in his history class was kind to him. He thought of Crowley's pale face painted blue by strobe lights, hair leeched of colour until it stood up in two black little horns. “I know I am.” He corrected.

 Gabriel was silent and Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to look at him. His eyes filled. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t talk to mum without feeling like I’m lying to her and I’m terrified of dad finding out and I’m just so tired of having to pretend...” he whispered, voice breaking “I’m tired of being scared.” He said, finally glancing up at his brother. He seemed to be very far away, eyes unfocused. The silence stretched between them. It gathered dust.

Aziraphale was just about to make a run for it when his brother finally spoke. “How long?” He asked. His voice was flat, desolate. It unnerved Aziraphale, he'd never heard a voice like that leave Gabriel's lips before.
“That’s not how it works Gabe ... I’ve always been like this.” He murmured, cringing.
“I mean how long have you known?” He clarified.
“Oh. Since I was about fifteen, I guess. It’s been getting harder to hide though.”
“And you never told me?” He asked, eyes refocusing on the room around them. The hypocrisy of it struck Aziraphale like an anvil. He couldn’t help but laugh, wiping his eyes. “What’s funny?” Gabriel snapped.
“You’re asking me about why I’m keeping secrets? Me? I was terrified Gabriel. My secret takes away my rights, it oppresses me. What excuse do you have for not telling me about Bee?” He demanded. He hadn’t been intending to bring Bee up at all, he regretted it immediately. Gabriel recoiled at the name like he’d been stung.

“That’s different.” He protested.
“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t owe coming out to anyone. Not even you.” Aziraphale said, standing up quickly.
“And I owed it to you to tell you about someone I was seeing?” He demanded.
“You were seeing them for a year. I think you owed it to mum, and I think you owed it to Bee. Can you imagine being kept a secret for a year?” He shouted. “I had to sit there and listen to the adventures of Gabriel-the-perfect-son, feeling like a failure in every way, and here you were, lying.” He said, tears spilling over again at the injustice of it. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be your brother? To be compared to you every waking moment?” He asked. Aziraphale took a stuttering breath to calm himself. Gabriel looked horrified. Aziraphale tried to do the only thing he could to save the situation. He closed himself off, tone sounding empty, even as it rattled in his own ears.  “I just ... I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else. You and mum told me to come here and be myself. I can’t exactly do that if I’m hiding anything from you.” He said, getting to his feet. He wiped his face hurriedly.
“What does that mean?” Gabriel frowned. His ignorance ignited Aziraphale's impatience again.
“That whole uni is like the Gabriel parade! You have eyes and ears everywhere. I can’t walk into a room without being seen as Gabriel’s little brother. I’m not just your shadow!” He snapped, surprising even himself with the vehemence in his tone, Crowley’s words pouring from his lips. 

“That’s exactly why I couldn’t tell you about Bee. You all have theese...expectations of me. How could I have brought someone like Bee home? She doesn’t fit the mould you all have for my life.”
“They.” Aziraphale said quietly. 
“Jesus Christ. THEY.” He shouted. The room shook with the force of his anger, the suddenness of it in the still room. Aziraphale shrank in on himself. He hadn’t flinched like that since their father left. Gabriel saw it and his face transformed, grief radiated from him. “Azi...” He said softly. 

“Is this what you did to Bee when they trusted you with the truth?” He asked. He looked so hurt and so incredibly guilty that Aziraphale had no doubt what had happened between them.
“It was a lot for me Aziraphale, you know I’m not as ... literate with this kind of thing as you.”
“That’s not a good excuse.” he said, hand resting on the door. Gabriel looked pathetic, but it wasn't Aziraphale who should be pandering to him right now.
“... I know. What can I do?” he asked wretchedly.
“It’s not my job to educate you, Gabe.” He said bitterly “I thought that you would have done that after Bee came out to you, but I guess there's a lot I don't know.” The silence lagged between them again. Aziraphale’s tea had grown stone cold. “I should go.” He said “whenever you’re ready to tell me what’s going on with you, I’ll listen because this...” he gestured around the room “isn’t the Gabriel I know.”

His brother made no move to stop him as he went to the living room to get his coat. Uri appeared in the kitchen doorway. “I heard shouting... oh Azi you’re crying. What’s happened?” She asked. 
“I’m gay.” He said, the words falling from him like water. No reaction could be worse than Gabriel’s, there was nothing to fear from telling people now. 
“Oh Azi.” She went to hug him and he shook his head. 
“I need to be away from him until he sorts himself out. He’s a mess Uri.” He said.
“I know.” She whispered.
“He’s not your responsibility. If wants help he can ask for it.” Aziraphale said firmly, staring at her until she nodded.

“I’m sorry it didn’t go like you wanted it to Aziraphale.” She said. “He’s not a bad person. He’s one of the most progressive guys I know.” She said.
“I bet he’s got loads of gay friends.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes. She smiled a little at that.
“I don’t think ... I don’t think he’s been well since the break-up.” She said.
“It explains it, but it doesn’t justify it.” Aziraphale said. 
“I know Azi. He’ll come around.” She promised. Uriel extended her arms uncertainly. He allowed her to hug him, clinging on to her as another few tears rolled down his face. She wiped them away and gave such a loving smile that it hurt. 
“Why can’t I be your little brother?” He smiled weakly. 
“You are to me.” She whispered.

***

Aziraphale didn’t remember his walk home. He’d completed it on autopilot as he replayed the conversation, searching for anything that could grant him acceptance and his brother redemption. He didn’t even notice the rain starting, his hood was full of water by the time he reached the flat. Anathema was waiting by the door. She took one look at his face and knew it hadn’t gone well.

They both curled up at opposite ends of his bed, lost under the thick duvet. Aziraphale traced the lines of the clean geometric pattern on the sheets absently, waiting for her to say something. Every now and then he checked his phone. There had been no message from Gabriel. Thankfully there hadn’t been anything from his mother yet either. Gabe must have decided against outing him for now.

"You did the right thing Aziraphale. He would have found out anyway." Anathema tried to soothe him eventually. He knew she was right, but logic never helped anyone feel better. He didn’t really want to feel better anyway. He wanted to wallow, he deserved it.
"I'm going to have to talk to mum soon." He sighed.
"You think it'll be worse?" She asked. He shook his head.
"I just think she'll say some really ignorant things because she doesn't know any better. I know she'll be fine eventually."
"Then why not call her?" She frowned. he tried to string his formless fears and vague fears into words.
"Once I tell her, it's like all the different parts of me are connected by this common thread, I'll be out everywhere. I don't want them all those parts of me tainted by a crap experience, at least not all at once." He said. She nodded as if it made perfect sense to her.

“I’m supposed to be seeing him again later.” Aziraphale groaned.
"I thought you were going over tomorrow for pizza?"
"Oh not Gabe, that's obviously not happening anymore ... I'm supposed to be seeing him." He said meaningfully.
“You’re going on another date?” she demanded.
“I don’t know if I’m up to it.” he sighed, checking the time. He still had plenty of time to get ready, or to cancel. He wondered if he would ever see Crowley again if he canceled on him now. He stared morosely at his phone, realising that he didn’t know what Crowley’s number was.

“Aziraphale, I’m going to give you some tough love. The world is full of people who aren’t going to be thrilled about your life. Are you going to curl up in a ball every time you bump into one of them?” Her tone was much harsher than he had grown used to, it got his back up instantly.
“No but-”
“Are you going let people who don’t matter control your life?” She asked.
"No but-”
“Do you want to see him again?”
“Yes but-“
“But what, Aziraphale?” She demanded, finally letting him talk.
“Everything about him confuses me. It’s hard enough to keep up with him on a clear mind, I don't know if I can cope in this state.” He sighed, even the thought of seeing Crowley filled him with equal excitement and nausea. He threw himself onto his back, staring up at the uneven plastering of the ceiling.

“Well what was the plan?” She asked.
“He asked to hear me play, so I suggested the music rooms tonight.” He said, running a hand over his face.
“You’re going to serenade him?” She squealed, her face appearing as she leaned over him. 
“It’s not like that Anathema.” He sighed, pushing her back to her side of the bed.
“Well what are you going to play him?” She asked, tone undampened.
“I dunno, I hadn’t thought about it.” He admitted.

“It has to be something romantic ... no, the most complicated thing you know.” she debated, eyes drifting into the ether.
“It’s bass guitar, Anathema, not lead guitar. It’s a background instrument for background people.” He sighed. He glared up at the flag over his bed when he spotted it again, wishing he could rip it down. How could he have asked Crowley to meet him? It was stupidity.

“Hey!” She snapped, pulling him back up. You’re not a background person. You’re the star of the show.”
“Anathema...”
“Crowley seems to think so.”
“Who knows what Crowley thinks.” He sighed, looking across the room at the bass he had been fastidiously cleaning and checking to give him something to do all night. The body was a shining burgundy, the colour of wine. It was a relic. It had been his father’s favourite in the 80s. It drank batteries by the day. He couldn’t even say why he had agreed to learn it. He didn’t owe his father anything, but something about the steady dependability of the instrument, it’s supportive role, spoke to him. It was something he could become great at and yet nobody would ever really notice him.

“You really like him, don’t you?” She asked. He groaned and nodded. “I’m not going to tell you what to do Aziraphale. I think people have been doing that for long enough. Just so what’ll make you happy.” she smiled. He snorted, but she had him hook, line and sinker.

***

He had set off even earlier than he usually would have done to get to the practice rooms. September had slipped into October, and already the light seemed thinner somehow, as if there were more of the earth to cover and less sunlight to do it. Aziraphale didn’t know what he hoped to achieve, but he felt that it was imperative to beat Crowley there. Maybe getting the low of the land would give him the upper hand. Were dates supposed to feel like such intricate games of chess? Was this even really a date? He sighed, taking the stairs to the basement as quickly as possible.

When he stepped into the practice room, he realised he was too late, Crowley was already there. He had his back to the door and Aziraphale could see a guitar strapped around him. He was leaning over a stereo system, checking the levels. Huge headphones insulated his ears, framing his skinny head comically. Aziraphale watched him strum a silent note and nod thoughtfully. He was piping the sound straight into his headphones, Aziraphale realised. He hadn’t heard Aziraphale come in. 

He paused in the doorway, letting himself just look for a moment. He instantly felt the treacherous blush cover his face as he stared at the older boy. He was in his signature black jeans, but he was wearing a loose black jumper that looked too big on him. It made all his angles soft. A jacket and his glasses were abandoned in a heap by the door. Aziraphale frowned as he saw he’d taken his shoes off too. He looked utterly at home in the cozy room. 

Aziraphale was just wondering how to announce himself when Crowley began singing to himself in time with whatever riff he was playing. He couldn’t make out the words, but it was slow and soulful, not at all what Aziraphale had imagined. He shifted in the doorway and his shadow fell across the deck Crowley was facing. He stopped singing and turned to face him. “You actually came.” He said, too loud. Aziraphale motioned at his ears and Crowley complied, taking the headphones off.
“Why on earth wouldn’t I?” He asked, putting his guitar case down. Crowley shrugged.
“I thought it might be easier for us to play together if I brought a guitar rather than the violin.” He said after a moment, lifting the neck of the guitar as though it could have slipped Aziraphale’s attention. His eyes darted around and Aziraphale realised that Crowley was nervous. Incredibly nervous. He had seen him flirty and content and confused, but this was new. It made his whole face transform. Aziraphale found he rather liked it. He nodded and took out his own guitar, slipping the strap around his shoulders.  

“Beautiful.” Crowley sighed. Aziraphale’s head shot up, blinking at him in shock. He didn’t notice, his eyes were fixed on the guitar Aziraphale held. “How old is it?” He asked. Aziraphale had found himself quite disarmed by the single, reverent word and had to dig through his mind to locate any meaningful kind of response. “Er, he bought in the 80s I think. When he was my age.” he said. “Some of the pickups are fried and it growls a little bit, but I like it.” He said, running a hand along the frets.
“Here, let me plug you in.” Crowley said, his voice a little strained as he watched Aziraphale fiddle. He unravelled a wire and crossed the room before he could protest. He crouched in front of him and it was all Aziraphale could do not to recoil at his proximity. Crowley connected the wire, smirking up at him at the grumbling feedback it caused. He turned one of the four dials on the front of the instrument and it stopped instantly. “Oh ... I thought they were just for show.” Aziraphale admitted quietly. 
“That'll be why they're such a mess.” He said, bowing his head to set them all up properly. It only took a moment, but Aziraphale stared down at the bright twist of auburn hair, effortlessly sweeping round and up into a messy wave. He barely let himself breathe until Crowley lithely hopped up onto his feet and moved away.

“So. You wanted to play for me?” Crowley asked. That was the exact opposite of what he wanted to do, but there was really no avoiding it now.
“Well there is a song I actually know all the way through, but it isn’t really one with a guitar role” He said. Crowley gave him a nod that was an invitation to take the floor. Aziraphale stayed tucked in the corner and played the opening riff. Two notes in and Crowley’s eyes widened. It was one of the simpler, punchier bass songs Aziraphale knew. Something he couldn’t possibly mess up, despite the feeling that reared in his chest with Crowley watching him so Intently with those cat-like eyes. Aziraphale knew that between them and Crowley’s barbed tongue, he would be lucky to leave the practice unscathed. 

“You like Queen?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale nodded, belatedly letting himself sway along with each note of Another One Bites The Dust as he pulled them from the bass.
“Not what you expected?” He asked, eyebrows raised.
“I’m not saying that!” Crowley smiled; hands raised in surrender. 
“No. I’m curious, what did you think I’d like?” He asked, abruptly stopping the song before even hit the first verse. Somehow, Crowley managed to pick some bittersweet notes from the electric guitar, recreating a song from The Sound of Music. He must have seen Aziraphale’s expression change because his own teasing smile faltered. 

“That was mean, sorry.” He muttered. There was only one source who could have told him about Gabriel’s affinity for the musical. Of course, Crowley would assume Aziraphale shared the family love of the soundtrack. It reminded him of the countless hours they had spent listening to it. It was the soundtrack of his life. As much as he rolled his eyes, it had played in the background of every happy memory of his life. It was part of him. A part of him he may have lost forever.
“No, it’s fine, me and Gabe just had a row earlier.” He shrugged, playing a few absent notes to distract himself. Crowley nodded, quickly changing the subject.
“I did have an idea of what you would actually like though.” He said, trying to recover himself.
“Yeah?” Aziraphale smiled expectantly. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. Crowley nodded and Aziraphale laughed as he started to play. “I love ABBA.” He admitted as Crowley played Fernando. It was a deep cut, and one of his favourites. He was impressed, Crowley must have really been listening to him to pick this song.

“What about me? What do you think I’m into?” He asked with a salacious smile. 
“Oh definitely cheesy soft rock.” He said, feeling a flirtier expression, never worn settle on his face. He was teasing Crowley back just as viciously.
“No!” He yelled, though his expression clearly said he’s been caught out.
“You have a Bon Jovi playlist, don’t you?’ He teased, pressing his advantage.
“Hey when I’m playing gigs Bon Jovi goes down really well.” He protested.
“Who are you playing gigs for? Middle aged house wives?” He grinned. Crowley mimed receiving a critical blow and Aziraphale laughed.

“You really play gigs?” He asked.
“Yeah, you know the bar I took you to? I’ve been playing there since the start of first year. That’s how I know them so well.” He smiled.
“Do you have a band?” He asked.
“Like the thought of that, do you angel?” He smirked.
“No!” He said scandalised, though the thought of Crowley on stage didn’t exactly hurt. He grinned. 
“Yeah, a few of us play together. Me and bass split the vocals usually. Our drummer can’t multitask.” He shrugged.
“You’re duetting with another bassist? Anyone I should be jealous of?” He quoted him.
“You know what angel; I don’t think you’re the jealous type.” He grinned.
“Oh, don’t you?” He said coyly. 
“You surprise me more and more with every minute.” Crowley laughed, but there was an interest in his eyes that Aziraphale wanted to capture forever. It made him bold.

“Could I come see one of your shows?” Aziraphale asked. 
“A third date? You are being forward.” He said in the scandalised tones of a Victorian lady.
“Crowley!” He laughed.
“Fine. Yes. You can come, but I don’t think my next one will be your scene.” He warned him.
“Why not?” He asked.
“Well the hole in the wall, where we went the other day, it has a queer night every few months. I’m playing it in a few weeks, the Halloween show.” He said.
“Will it be spooky?” He asked.
“Definitely not, unless some of the drag queens show up again.” He smiled.

“Why wouldn’t that be my scene?” He asked, non-plussed.
“I dunno. You just said you weren’t ready to be out yet so I asssumed, big gay night of debauchery might not be for you quite yet.” He said, concern in his tone.
“Debauchery?” He squeaked. Crowley laughed. 
“Sorry, that was an exaggeration. It’s mostly just a lot of 80s music and bad fashion ... which actually makes it exactly your scene.” He teased. Aziraphale nudged him reproachfully with the nose of his bass. 
“Come with me, I need someone to look up at me adoringly when I play.” Crowley said, swaying back towards him.
“Is that so?” Aziraphale said sceptically. Crowley nodded; eyebrows so hopefully high they were almost lost in his floppy quiff.
“Will there be anyone else there to look adoringly at you?” He asked.
“Not by invitation, but I can hardly help it, they love me down there. Maybe I’ll get to see your jealous side after all, Angel.” He purred, leaning ever closer. There wasn’t much room for Aziraphale to retreat in the corner, so he gave in, letting himself stay touted there. He affected disinterest and rolled his eyes at the flirting. 
“Well, you best show me some of this showmanship. I play like a textbook. Maybe I can get a few hints.” He said, never actually accepting the invitation. They both knew he would be there.
“Sit back and watch padawan.” Crowley smiled.

Aziraphale sank to the ground, the Star Wars reference thrilling him almost as the thought of a band had. “Any requests?” Crowley asked. 
“Something new.” He said, leaning back into the thick foam of the sound-proofed wall.
“You heard of St. Vincent?” He asked.
“Love her.” He smiled
“Oh you are gay.” Crowley teased.

He started to play one of Aziraphale’s favourite songs. Los ageless was a sad, dystopian nightmare of a song but Crowley gave it a haunting meaning. He was utterly compelling. It was pure confidence and comfort, Aziraphale realised. He plaited the whole song uninterrupted. Aziraphale was wrapped, drinking in every syllable, each note had him slipping deeper into his infatuation, as much as he had tried to resist it. When Crowley was finished, he actually blushed, as though he just realised how closely Aziraphale had been watching him. When he played there was no one else in the room. It was enchanting.

“Your turn.” He said gruffly, keen to deflect the attention. 
“What? No no no. When I say I’m bad, it’s not false modesty.” Aziraphale promised.
“Come on, we know you can carry a tune.”
“What should I play?” He asked. All the songs he had learnt recently were technically effortless, but he remembered what Anathema said. He didn’t want Crowley to think he was serenading him, besides he knew he didn’t have the attitude to pull off most of them.
“You pick. I promise I won’t laugh.” Crowley said, crossing his heart before he settled himself on the floor.

Hesitantly, Aziraphale began to play Rhianon. He knew the vocals were mostly in his range and he actually knew all the lyrics, which was rare. He closed his eyes as he played, looking down at Crowley who was looking right back at him was too much. It was like a staring contest with the sun. He found his ways around the frets easily but everything else felt wrong. He could feel eyes on him and his tone faltered. “Don’t stop, just relax.” Crowley murmured; voice much closer than he had expected. He opened his eyes to find the boy wasn’t in front of him at all. Crowley adjusted the strap on his shoulder slightly so the base hung lower. Aziraphale automatically adjusted his stance to be looser, compensating for the change. “Close your eyes again, just think about the lyrics.” He said, his hand running over Aziraphale’s hunched shoulders to loosen them too. Aziraphale did as he was told, hearing Crowley start to accompany him on the guitar. He felt a little better, like he could just become part of the texture of the music, rather than the focal point. He smiled, opening his eyes and grinning it Crowley tentatively before the song was through.

“Much better.” Crowley smiled. “You just need to play what you enjoy. You’ve got a beautiful voice.” The compliment was so conversational that Aziraphale hardly knew how to take it. He just blushed.
“You know any more Queen?” He asked, eyes eager.
“Most of them.” Aziraphale admitted.
“Show me.” He smiled

“Can anybody find me somebody to love ... each morning I get up I die a little.” He sang quietly, the guitar starting up right on time. He was surprised by his own daring. He didn’t know what had driven him to choose that particular song, but Crowley’s eyebrows raised. He had sensed an implication there, even if Aziraphale hadn’t consciously noted there to be. For the first time, he managed not to blush. He let himself go along with the game. They were talking in code and Aziraphale felt so much more articulate than with his words. He wanted to know how the conversation ended. The guitar became everything he had been trying to make it. It was alive, each note mournful and longing. Aziraphale let his singing trail off, wanting to hear Crowley sing properly, knowing he couldn’t carry it himself. It was a good choice; Crowley’s voice had a slight rugged hitch that warped beautifully around each note. He could belt it more powerfully than Aziraphale, who much preferred the softer sections of the song. He occasionally took up the chorus sections. 

Crowley was a performer in every way Aziraphale wasn’t. He occupied the space in the centre of the room, eyes locked on Aziraphale as he played effortlessly. It annoyed him so thoroughly that he switched the riff. It filled him with joy to watch the momentary confusion on Crowley’s face as he played something a little more difficult. Californiacation rolled out of his guitar. Crowley met him quickly, changing the song again to one of his favourites. They played Roxanne together for a moment, neither of them singing. They were too busy smirking across at each other as they found a new game where they could chase each other throughout the genre, saying all the things they didn’t dare to hear. When they reached the chorus Crowley couldn’t help himself, singing it as he backed away a few steps, getting lost in it. Aziraphale let him slide into silence again before he switched to yet another song. Somehow this was teasing. He was flirting as openly as he could, he was doing it with every note and Crowley was only ever a beat behind for a moment. He started playing the Metallica version of Pretty Woman, letting a laugh escape him as Crowley winked, morphing it quickly into Arctic Monkeys. He started up in the middle of a chorus and Aziraphale gave in, simply listening.

Crowley looked deep into his eyes, smile faltering as he sang. “all I ever wanna say is you are mine. Well, are you mine?” He sang, eyes never leaving Aziraphale’s. This was more than code, it was a conversation. Crowley stopped playing abruptly, letting the question hang in the dead space between them. But it wasn’t dead at all, it crackled with understanding, with the feeling of revealing something true and having it be seen. Aziraphale moved further into the centre of the room. Crowley conceded and moved back, letting him take centre stage. 

He swallowed, making his mind up how to answer his question. He felt the mood in the little room shift from lightly flirty to something more intimate. He started in on the riff where it would answer his question, rather than the start of the song “Ooh let me feel your heartbeat” he began, letting himself smile as he focused on the words. Aziraphale watched Crowley’s eyes widen in recognition and a slow understanding filter over his face in return. 

“I'd like for you and I to go romancing. Say the word, your wish is my command. Ooh love ooh loverboy. What're you doin' tonight, hey boy-“ Crowley didn’t try to join in. Aziraphale was starting to feel that he’d overstepped the mark, taken the game too far. His voice wavered. That was as far as he got before Crowley was on him, pushing him back into the corner. His own guitar swung round to his back as he leaned over the bass to capture Aziraphale’s lips with his own. Aziraphale’s hands moved from the guitar to Crowley after only the barest shocked hesitation. He was not going to let him pull away from him this time. Crowley made a small sound in the back of his throat, surprised by the eagerness he was met with. 

Part of Aziraphale had worried that it was all the alcohol that had tricked him into wanting this so much, but here he was, clear headed, wanting nothing more than to kiss him just as hard as he was being kissed. It was like he was being set alight; they were incandescent. 

He had always been a fast study, but he must have been rather hard on himself about his abilities, as Crowley only seemed to be enjoying it more and more. He was pinning him to the insulated wall as tightly as the guitar between them would allow.  Eventually Aziraphale pulled back, pulling in a breath that he had been denying himself. Before he had even totally recovered, the guitar was taken from him and Crowley was gone. He glanced up in confusion. For a moment he was worried he’d made a mistake. He watched Crowley put the instrument into a stand with all the tender care Aziraphale himself would have done, and the desperate call to have Crowley back against him softened into something much more tender. 

His mind caught up with what he’d done, then the frown on Crowley’s face. “Shouldn’t have done done that.” He muttered.
“Why not?” Aziraphale asked, affronted.
“You didn’t ask me to.” He said, looking lost in the middle of the room, adrift. Aziraphale could see the shape of him under the jumper. He looked so small.
“Crowley, you can’t be under any doubt that I ... wanted you to.” He almost whispered.
“But what’s the point, Angel?” He asked.
“Well I thought it spoke for itsself.” He said, uncertainty growing.
“No, you’re right. You were right at the start. I just storm in and I kiss you and you kiss me back because really what other chance do I give you? What do expect to happen? It’s not like you and I ...” he trailed off, looking helplessly at Aziraphale across the little room.

All of Aziraphale’s anxiety collapsed atop him again. “Oh. You don’t want to ... see me. I thought so, I mean that makes sense. Why would someone like you want me?” his eyes were filling with embarrassment. It was one thing to lie awake wondering if you were liked, another to be told no. “I’m sorry, I seem to have misunderstood.” He said, moving to collect the bass. 

“Angel, you can’t doubt that I like you? I’ve been chasing you for weeks, I’ve kissed you every chance I’ve had. I just know that you won’t have me.” Crowley said, his voice smaller than Aziraphale had ever heard it. He paused in zipping up his guitar case and turned back to him.
“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked.
“You know why not. You said you wouldn’t because of your brother.  That twat ruining everything he ever comes into contact with.” He seethed. Aziraphale winced. He watched in panic as Crowley put his guitar in its case.

“I thought I wasn’t his shadow?” He said quietly, his tears threatening to spill over. He blinked quickly, feeling all of his clashing emotions resolve into certainty. Crowley paused and sighed. “I don’t know, are you, Aziraphale?” He asked.  Aziraphale crossed to him in a few short strides. He leant up on his tip toes to reach his face to Crowley’s. “I make my own choices.” He said, letting them linger an inch apart. “And I really like you.” He added. It felt childish, inadequate and melodramatic, but he needed to be understood before he finally kissed Crowley in a way that he couldn’t blame on confusion or alcohol.

It was nice to feel him be the one struggling to keep up. Aziraphale’s hands were already in his hair before he got an arm around him, letting Aziraphale lead. He was surprised by how natural it felt, him taking charge. There was nothing in his life he felt this confident in. Crowley complies, responding to his every touch. He practically wrapped himself around Aziraphale’s soft form. That was when Aziraphale hesitated. It was too much without the safety of a guitar between them. There was too much of him compared to Crowley. He would feel it Andy be repulsed. He finally let Crowley go, giving himself a little space.

“Does this mean...?” He asked, his voice a whisper.
“You’re going to have to come out, angel.” The older boy said, a little dazed. His eyes refocused, full of concern and warning. “Well ... you don’t have to tell them about this, about us straight away ... I don’t mind being your dirty little secret, but it’s never good, being with someone when you can’t be yourself.” He said, winding his arm back around Aziraphale. “I don’t expect you to be all way out just because I bat my eyelids at you, angel. I can help you through it all.” He promised.

“The thing is Crowley ... I’ve already started.” He smiled. Crowley’s eyes widened; pride clear in them. 
“You have?” He whispered. Aziraphale nodded.
“How did it go?” He asked.
“Absolute disaster.” Fie some reason, he started to laugh like it was the funniest thing that had ever happened to him. “I don’t think my brother will ever talk to me again.” He said, fighting for breath.
“Oh he will. But when he finds out about us ... he might try to kill me.” He smiled, watching Aziraphale in wonder.

He was just about to kiss him again when there was a loud knock on the door. They pulled apart quickly. Aziraphale ran a hand through his hair to flatten it, Crowley made no attempt to disguise what he’d been up to. 
“Hour’s up, people are waiting.” The music tech called. 
“Just packing up!” Aziraphale shouted back. He turned to Crowley, suddenly feeling very uncertain.

He hadn’t really imagined what came after the kissing. Well, he had certainly imagined what could come after kissing in the general sense, but he didn’t know what was expected of him. 
“What now?” He asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Crowley smirked, slinging his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders. 

Chapter Text

Summer had reached its fist through into mid-October, gripping the usually chilly Northern city in a temperate grip. The vast majority of the students were stretched out in little groups in grassy patches of life across the campus. Aziraphale hated the heat. He had retreated into the cool shadows of the library, as he always did. Nestled among the stacks, he sat with a pile of books to his left and Crowley lying sprawled to his right, his head resting casually on Aziraphale’s knee. He was playing with his phone as Aziraphale read. If he were honest with himself, Aziraphale would admit that very little of Beowolf was making it through to his mind, even with the simplified translation lying somewhere nearby. It was focused determinedly on the point of contact between his knee and the back of Crowley’s head.

Every touch was still like a spark to him, but he put a hand into Crowley’s hair, stroking it as he read. Crowley’s tapping at his phone stilled and Aziraphale glanced down to see his eyes slipping shut behind his dark glasses. They had been together for almost a month. In that time, they had acted like spies, communicating in discreet nods as they passed in halls, knees bumped under desks and lingering glances. The moment they found themselves alone they became rather less chaste, kissing ensconced behind bookshelves or corners. Once Crowley even tried to tempt him into a changing room in the sports building, but with a force of will hitherto unexpected, Aziraphale had managed to turn him down. 

Aziraphale had never dared to imagine this would be his, a beautiful boy longing against him on a warm afternoon, utterly content  He never thought he would feel safe enough to live so comfortably in a moment like this, with someone like Crowley. He loved every instant of it. Sometimes the secrecy of it all was infuriating, there had already been so many close calls. He was sure it was worth avoiding Gabriel’s attention, but it meant they couldn’t go out on dates in town, or even hold hands on campus. They had studiously avoided going to one another’s homes, partly because they thought Bee would be just as unimpressed by them as Gabriel, and partly because Aziraphale didn’t think he’d be able to stop himself if he got Crowley alone. That thought terrified him.

“Angel?” Crowley murmured sleepily.
“Mmhmmm?” He asked, eyes still tripping easily between the Old English on his page.
“You’re ignoring me.” He pouted.
“Am not.” He said, tugging at his hair a little to demonstrate he was still there. Crowley’s eyes shot open. He had made a little noise in his throat that Aziraphale chose to ignore for both their sanities, but a rare blush was just visible at the tips of his ears.
“Pay attention to me.” He whined, sitting up and leaning close. “Are you bored of me, angel?” He smiled. He had never been less bored. Aziraphale was acutely aware of how close his lips were to his face, the electricity of his closeness still so new to him. He kept his focus on his page, knowing it as the surest way to infuriate the other boy, as well as mask how utterly overwhelming he was.
“That’s hardly likely, Crowley.” He said. 
“Then maybe I need to be more entertaining...” he mused, his tone thick with mischief. Aziraphale heard him folding up his glasses and laying them aside. He wondered what he was in for now.

Aziraphale tutted.

Crowley moved with interminable slowness into his field of vision, like a stalking cat. He leaned closer, pressing his lips against the very corner of Aziraphale’s. He focused on the page, but the letters meant nothing. He turned a page stiffly. Crowley laughed and dropped a trail of kisses along his jaw. He didn’t pause until he landed a kiss right at the sensitive spot where his jaw met his neck. Aziraphale’s breath stuttered and he felt those lips curl into a smile, already scenting victory. His hands tightened on the book, feeling the grain of the aged paper crinkle slightly. Aziraphale's eyes shot to the end of the long library stack, as the librarian could sense the careless damage. There was not a soul to discover them. It made him feel idly vulnerable

Those lips searched down his neck, stealing so much of his focus that Aziraphale didn’t even notice Crowley’s hand coming up to loosen the primly done up top button of his shirt. But then Crowley was questing lower, lips finding the hollow of his throat. He must have been able to feel Aziraphale swallow, but he said nothing. Instead, he pushed Aziraphale's arm aside and slithered into his lap. He hummed in impatience as he loosened yet another little button, determined to win his angel’s attention. 

Aziraphale rested his elbows on the boy’s shoulders, holding the book up behind his head. He was only just managing to hold the facade of reading together. He hadn’t turned a page in some time. Crowley was warm and comfortable in his lap, not nearly as sharp as he had expected him to be. All he wanted to do was ensnare him in his arms and keep him there. He had the suspicion that as soon as he lost the game, Crowley would relent, pull away from him. Back to the careful limits he had placed himself under whenever he touched Aziraphale. It was maddening and he couldn’t figure out why, but every time Aziraphale pushed too far, Crowley would just pull back with that enigmatic smile.

Crowley cocked his head as he inspected Aziraphale's face, looking for any sign of weakness. He mustn't have found any of his inner turmoil, because his breath suddenly curled around Aziraphale’s ear. The rush of the warm air made him shiver. "Angel?" He purred "Don’t you want to hold me? Kiss me back?" There was a sadness in his tone that made him sound so lonely. 

Something in Aziraphale snapped. He dropped the book and caught Crowley in his arms, trapping him against his chest. Crowley gave a delighted peal of victorious laughter into Aziraphale's ear, nipping at the love with sharp teeth. Aziraphale turned his head to catch him in a kiss, but Crowley was already pulling his face away, teasing.
"Now it's your turn." He said.
"Is it really?" Aziraphale countered, slipping a hand up Crowley’s back and neck to settle in his hair. As Crowley tried to wriggle off him, Aziraphale's have instinctively tightened in his coppery hair and he stilled instantly. He whole body felt softer somehow, pliant to Aziraphale’s touch. "Like that, do we?" Aziraphale smiled, shooting one of his wickedest smirks at him as he exercised his upperhand.
"No...." Crowley whispered, but his tone was uncertain. Aziraphale watched in disbelief as he swallowed nervously, pushing his head further into the touch.

Aziraphale tightened his grip again, harder this time, and Crowley gasped. The sound of it shocked Aziraphale, so loud in the silence of the library. Crowley’s shining eyes slipped shut quickly, happily following Aziraphale's guidance and submitting to a deep kiss. The knowledge of how to so easily undo Crowley was more than he knew what to do with, but he knew he wanted to exploit it. Crowley’s lips fell open, a little noise of surprise in the back of his throat as Aziraphale pulled him closer against him. He capitalised on it, deepening the kiss. He surprised himself with how much he enjoyed being there one in control for once, the one teasing and setting the boundaries.

Every touch only made him want more. Of course, he'd wanted more every time they had kissed, but it had been a blurry inclination, a desire for more of the same. Now a whole gallery of what 'more' could consist of was opening up in front of him in blurred glances, snatches of sound and tastes. Crowley’s hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, speaking of a similar frustration on his part so far removed from his usual self-restraint. Aziraphale pulled them apart firmly, smiling at the irritated whine Crowley gave.

“Home?” Aziraphale asked quietly, biting his bottom lip as he waited for a reply. He could feel nerves building in his stomach and shaking fingers. His breathing refused to settle into a reliable pattern and he could feel the flush on his cheeks, but Crowley was looking down at him as if he were the most desirable creature on the earth. He warred with himself visibly, finally he went to crawl off him, sighing,
“That’s probably for the best, Angel ... will I see you tomorrow?” he asked.
“No.” Aziraphale said firmly, tightening his arms around him.
“Why not? You don’t have class.” He pouted.
“No. I mean we both go home ... together. My flat. Right now.” He said, hoping his eyes conveyed everything his clumsy tongue couldn’t. Crowley stilled, eyes widening. His tongue darted out to lick his lips as he considered what Aziraphale was asking for.

“Aziraphale ...” He whined eventually, cupping his cheeks. His frown deepened as he stared at him. “You’re making it really hard for me to be good.” He warned.
“What if I don’t want you to be good?” He asked, leaning into the touch with his eyes gently closed.
“God save me.” Crowley whispered. His voice was soft and reverent with just a hint of something more needy under the surface. Aziraphale’s eyes shot open, but Crowley was beginning to smirk. “You really have no idea what you do to me, do you?” He asked.
“So you want to ...?” Aziraphale asked, an uncertain smiling answering the smirk.
“Yes, Aziraphale.” He laughed, putting his sunglasses back on in a suave and, Aziraphale was certain, practiced motion.

Aziraphale grinned and pushed him off with surprising ease. Crowley weighed almost nothing. He scrambled to his feet and reached out a hand to Aziraphale. He pulled him down into a quick kiss before he towed him to the staircase, his mountain of books utterly forgotten. Crowley kept up with him easily as they spiralled their way down the stairs, barely stifling giggles and exchanging daring glances as they went. Crowley went to loosen their hands as they crossed the foyer of the library, but Aziraphale held firm. “Let them see.” He whispered, his eyes bright with giddy excitement. He didn’t care who saw them, who knew what they were about to do. Crowley squeezes his hand tightly but said nothing, eyes hidden, but smirk legible across the room.

They stayed like that as Aziraphale all but dragged him the few side-streets to his accommodation. “It’s broad daylight Aziraphale. Someone will see.” He said, clearly confused by his behaviour, but enjoying it. 
“So what?” Aziraphale laughed, feeling freer than he ever had. The grounds and foyer of the tower block were blissfully deserted. They made their way in unimpeded, Aziraphale impatiently hitting the button for the elevator/ As soon as the lift doors closed behind them, Crowley was against him, leaving teasing kisses that Aziraphale never quite had time to return before he was pulling away again. Aziraphale laughed and pushed him out as soon as the doors were open again. Not running into another soul made Crowley bold, tugging Aziraphale’s primly tucked-in shirt free as he wrestled with the lock on the flat door.  They laughed as they stumbled into the flat. All the doors were locked and there was silence. He nodded and led him into his room, letting Crowley lock it behind them. 

He paused, his eyes drifting to the bed. The realisation of what they were here for crept upon him. He had obviously known what they were going to do, he had instigated it after all, but seeing his neat little single bed made it all much more real. It was like the other side of him staring them straight in the face. It looked so innocent.

Crowley snaked his hand gently into Aziraphale’s and raised it to his lips. His eyes flicked back to Crowley immediately. “You okay? We can slow down.” He murmured. He was looking at Aziraphale with such trust and understanding that it made him weak. He pulled him slowly to the bed, smiling shyly. "Just ... Kiss me?" He asked, not sure how to articulate what he was feeling. Crowley complied gladly, slowly guiding him onto his back without breaking the kiss. Aziraphale wound his arms around him, his heart racing as he felt Crowley’s weight slowly rest stop his own. He tried to deepen the kiss but Crowley kept it gentle, letting him acclimatise.

"You okay, Angel?" He checked, kissing back down his neck. He managed a little nod before a pain sprang up beneath Crowley's lips. Aziraphale cried out before he could stop himself and instantly Crowley’s clever tongue was there, soothing the pain. He hummed uncertainly. Whatever it was, his body liked it, a tight feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. It came again further down his neck, and again it was soothed. Aziraphale groaned in frustration, tugging at Crowley's shirt blindly. A hand slid up the side of Aziraphale’s button down, fingers warm against his side. This was all new. He had no idea it could be like this, that he could want another person so much without even really knowing what wanting meant in practical terms.

"Angel ... Can I?" He murmured, tugging at the shirt. He nodded, bracing himself as Crowley's hands shifted. As he undid each button, he left a love bite in its place until Aziraphale's protection was flayed beneath him. The part of himself he despised the most was exposed, offered up for crowley’s judgement. He averted his eyes, staring at the wall as Crowley dragged his eyes down him. He felt a gentle hand on his skin, burning heat searing through it. It wasn’t so much the softness of his body that Aziraphale despised, but the scar that curled around his side, pale and watchful and always there.

Crowley took Aziraphale's chin between his fingers and forced him to look up into his eyes. "You're perfect." He whispered, eyes shining still with hunger, maybe even more than there was before. Aziraphale almost dared to believe him when he was being looked at like that. It filled him with curiosity and he tentatively reached for Crowley's t-shirt. He complied, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion, letting it drop to the floor beside the bed in a sigh of cotton.

Aziraphale started up at him in awe. He was built like a statue, lean muscles etched into every limb, hidden by his skinniness and clothes. Crowley reached out and lead a hand to his side, giving him permission to touch. He ran his fingers lightly down his sides before he pulled him back down onto another kiss.

“What do you want, Aziraphale?” He whispered as he pulled back. His eyes were gentle, enquiring. It made Aziraphale melt beneath him as he tried to think. What did he want? He was about to reply when Crowley shifted his body over him, His leg came to rest between Aziraphale’s, creating a pressure, that made his mind short circuit. He smiled like he knew exactly what he was doing to him.
“Anything.” Aziraphale breathed. 
“No, this is about you, Zira.” He whispered, the name sweet in Aziraphale’s ears. No one had ever called him that before.
“I don’t know.” He admitted quietly. His insecurities washed back upon him. He didn’t have a clue what he wanted Crowley to do. His imaginings had all faded to black in a romantic swell long before this point. He was a child, he realised. But as he looked up at Crowley he couldn’t deny that he wanted him.

“It’s okay, let me help you.” Crowley soothed, reading his worries straight from his face “Zira, if you don’t like it, if it’s too fast, you stop me, okay?” Crowley said, eyes bright and knowing.
“Okay.” He promised. Crowley smiled and took one of his hands in his own, the other skating down his exposed chest again. Aziraphale’s toe’s curled as he felt his touch against his soft tummy, a swarm of butterflies colliding within it. Anticipation curled within him. How was it possible his body was capable of all this and he’d had no idea?

Crowley’s fingers were just coyly hovering over the button of his jeans when the very worst evil humanity ever invented occurred. Someone knocked on his door.

They froze, realising their situation. Crowley was on top of him, fingers brushing against the buttons of his jeans, poised to do unthinkable things to him. He watched as Crowley’s eyes dragged down his exposed chest, taking in the litany of bites and bruises he had reverently pressed into his skin. Aziraphale copied him, seeing for the first time the deep scratches he must have left down Crowley’s sides. The knock came again. It got worse. “Aziraphale, I know you’re in there, even if Anathama is pretending you’re not.” Gabriel’s voice carried through the thin wood.

They weren’t frozen any more. Crowley was off him in an instant, circling the tiny room in panic as he looked for somewhere to hide. The answer was obvious. There was nowhere. “I’m a bit busy Gabriel.” He managed to shout, not sounding quite like himself as he dragged his shirt around his body, fumbling the buttons. 

He hadn’t heard a word from Gabriel in almost a month. He had assumed radio silence was the new state of affairs between the two of them. In a way it had hurt him, but in another he was glad. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to forgive him, it was that he didn't know how. He couldn’t imagine what had brought him here. Then it dawned on him. They had been careless. They’d all but sprinted through the library, ruffled and clinging to each other. Then they’d wound their way through student streets, laughing and stopping every now and then for a heated kiss. How many people who knew Gabe had they passed? Ten? Twenty? Enough for one person to send a text. 

‘Bathroom.’ He mouthed; panic-stricken. When Crowley didn’t move, he started to push him towards it. 
“We need to talk Aziraphale.” Gabriel said in a tone that brokered no arguments. Aziraphale glanced in the mirror as he did up his top button, despairing as the very edge of a love bite could still be seen, a haze of purple above the light blue fabric. He pointed at it to Crowley, mining blind panic in his blind panic. 

“It didn’t go so well last time I tried to talk to you.” He said. It was cruel but he was stalling for time. Besides, after the way he’d behaved, Gabriel deserved to squirm a little. He heard his brother sigh. Crowley threw a towel at him. When he looked at him in confusion, the older boy mimed wrapping it around his neck, like a cape or a noose he couldn’t say. He draped it over his neck and glanced in the mirror. There was nothing to be seen. He nodded and shut the bathroom door on Crowley, hearing the lock slip quietly into place.

“I guess I deserve that.” Gabriel said quietly. “Look Azi, I’ve come to apologise.” Aziraphale paused in his tracks. He took a moment to steel himself, arranging his features into a harsh disinterest. It wasn’t hard to do. He unlocked his door and glared up at his brother. He’d forgotten how tall he was. Neither of them said anything. “I haven’t got all day, Gabriel. If you’re here to judge me just get on with it.” He looked up at him expectantly. Gabriel stumbled for words, obviously he didn't think Aziraphale had it in him to hold a grudge like this, he'd never had the opportunity before.
“Can I come in?” He asked. 
“I’d rather you didn’t." He admitted. Gabriel pushed past him and pulled out the chair that was tucked neatly under the desk.

“You didn’t make your bed.” Gabriel commented. He had, but a rather promising snogging session had taken place on it since then. Aziraphale didn’t really want to correct him though. “You’re one to talk.” He said. He had meant it to sound cutting and catty but it just sounded like an olive branch, a gentle chide to help them into the conversation neither of them wanted to have. 

“I like what you’ve done with the place.” He said, eyes lingering on the flag pinned above his bed. Aziraphale just snorted, trying to smooth his duvet out as if the wrinkles would give them away, show his brother a map to where he’d stashed his would-be-lover just a few feet away. With a pang he realised Crowley was going to hear every word. He didn’t know if his temper would hold or if he’d confront Gabe himself.

“Not to be rude, Gabriel, but you had something you wanted to talk about?” He asked.
“Oh yeah. So, I’ve been thinking since I last saw you, and Uriel's been helping me-”
“Helping you think? Probably for the best.” he muttered.
“You were right Aziraphale. My reaction was shitty. It was about me, not about you and that wasn’t fair when you were being brave enough to share something like that with me. I messed up. I was a shit person and a shittier brother. ” He said.

His genuineness shook Aziraphale of his defences. “Everything I said should have been about you. About how you’re an amazing brother, about how who you love doesn’t change that you are the best and bravest and kindest person I know. I should have hugged you and told you I understood why you were afraid, but that if people ... if people like him ever had anything to say, that I would deal with them for you. I should have stepped up and instead I slipped. I ended up being like him.” 
“Gabriel ....”
“No. I need you to understand how sorry I am. Nothing I say justifies the way I acted, but I hope it explains it, just like you said. And ... I hope it lets you know I love you, no matter what.”          

Gabriel stared at his shoes for a moment, building himself up to an admission. “I am like him sometimes. More and more as I get more stressed. I don’t see it happening until it’s too late, like when I frightened you ... as soon as I see it, I hate myself. I get myself into this state where I can’t look after myself or eat or sleep. I’d probably be dead by now if it wasn’t for Uri.” he looked down throughout his little speech, but his lips worked into a sad little smile around her name.

“She’ll be the best thing that ever happened to you.” Aziraphale commented.
“I know, but there’s a reason we aren’t together Azi. How can I trust myself? How can I ask her out when I know that I have this ... tendency to be like dad? I can’t do to her what he did to mum.”
“You’re not like him ... you’re aware of it. You’ve never hurt anyone ... you only shouted at me. Shouting is nothing, I was just being too sensitive again. I-“ he rationalised.
“I have hurt people Azi.” He said quietly. 

Aziraphale put two and two together very slowly. “Oh ... Oh.” He whispered. Gabriel’s eyes filled and he nodded stiffly. His eyes fixed on their dad's bass across the room. His spectre was with them, leaning against the windowsill, a bottle of beer in hand. They both averted their eyes from it.

“I can’t ever take back the things I’ve done Aziraphale. I can never atone for them. Bee and I were never in a perfect relationship, but you were right. They deserved more than me, so much more. I can be better now, be the Gabriel people think I am. I’ve signed up for therapy.” He admitted
“Gabriel that’s ... that’s huge.” Aziraphale said quietly.
“I want to prove to you I’m going to be better. I don’t expect forgiveness from you and certainly never from Bee, but I can be better.” He said. 

“And I followed your advice, I educated myself.” He said, pulling a pile of leaflets out of his coat pockets and dumping them on the bed beside Aziraphale. With a dawning horror, Aziraphale realised what they were. His mind snapped back to Crowley crouching in his bathroom and his cheeks flamed. “Oh ... OH!” He spluttered. “That’s kind Gabriel but I didn’t expect, really I can read through this kind of thing on my own, on the internet like any self-respecting baby gay.” he plead as Gabriel plucked one from the pile. 

“No. The internet has all sorts of myths on it, these came from the campus doctor.” he insisted.
“Oh my god, Gabriel did you ask for all of these?” He asked, horrified. 
“I’m being a good ally. All little brothers should be able to ask about this stuff, gay or straight.”
“Oh god. You’ve already read them?” He squeaked, horrified that he was about to get the talk from his straight brother while the boy so keen on demonstrating the birds and the bees to him was listening in to every word. He was mortified. 
“So. Protection.” Gabriel said, looking totally at ease in a non-judgemental, rehearsed way.

“Wait did you practice this? You’ve got you public speaking face on. Did you practice giving me the talk with Uriel?” He demanded. Gabriel’s silence indicated that was precisely what he’d done. “Oh my god I can never face her again.” He whined. 

A definite chuckle came from the bathroom. Gabriel’s head snapped up. “What was that?” 
“Pipes, maintenance is coming tomorrow.” He lied quickly, glaring through the wall as if Crowley could see the warning in his eyes. 
“Fine ... fine. You can read them on your own. But if there’s anything you don’t understand ...”
“Trust me, you will be last person I call. I was going to forgive you and we could have moved on with our lives. Now I can never see you again.” he whimpered, hiding his face in his hands.

“Okay, I get it, I’ll go.” He smiled “just one more thing?” 
“Oh god are you the gay Columbo now?” he asked.
“I got in touch with a friend of mine. He’s president of the lgbt society. He said if you need to talk to someone who gets it or make some friends who have that in common with you to drop him a message, I’ll send you a link to his profile.” gabriel said, ignoring the jibe.
“That is actually ... incredibly sweet Gabriel. Thank you.” He said.

Gabriel finally, finally, got to his feet and made for the door. Aziraphale checked his towel and went to follow him. “What’s with the towel by the way? Is something that a disgusting, heteronormative, white, cis male like me wouldn't get or ...?”
“Oh wow, you have done your homework.” Aziraphale smiled.
“I’m reliably informed by the internet that I’m trash.” Gabriel confirmed.
“I was just about to take a shower when you turned up.” He lied.
“But the pipes?” his brother frowned.
“Anathemas are fine.” He said, suddenly realising that the walls were so thin that if she was here she had probably heard everything too. How long had she been in the flat? She had probably heard a great deal more than just him and his brother talking. He would definitely have to tell her everything now. 

“For a minute I was worried you were hiding a hickey.” Gabriel joked uncomfortably, like a dad out of his depth. Aziraphale coughed in surprise but managed to play it off as a chuckle. “How could I when you hadn’t given me the leaflet on them yet?” He said sarcastically.
“Okay, okay I get it, I’ve embarrassed you enough. You will come over for pizza this weekend, right?”
“Whatever answer will get you out faster,” Aziraphale glanced around and spotted a carrier bag. “Hey, you left your shopping.” He said, grabbing the bag and holding it out to his brother. 

“Oh ... erm that’s for you...” He said, actually blushing.
“Coming out presents aren't customary, Gabe.” He said reaching into the bag with a grin.
“Oh no, I wouldn’t-“ he began, but Aziraphale had already pulled something out. He yelped as if he’d been burnt and dropped it into the bag again, throwing it across the room. It clattered against the wall, spilling its illicit contents all over his bed.

“What the fuck, Gabriel?” He hissed.
“It wasn’t me, it was Mike!” He bleated.
“You told mike? You outed me to fucking Michael?” He had never sworn so much. He found it was quite useful.
“He overheard Uri and I talking! He just gave me the bag and said it was a care package for you but that I wasn’t allowed to look. He said it was gay tradition!”
“Tradition to make you a mule for passing on dirty magazines and and ... and all of that to your little brother? Why would you ever take advice from Mike?” he demanded.
“Because he’s gay!”
“He’s pan!” Aziraphale shouted back

“Isn’t that the gayest type of gay? He certainly does a lot of ... that type of stuff.” Gabriel looked even more mortified than Aziraphale felt.
“I don’t know, do you have a leaflet for it?” Aziraphale seethed.
“Okay, okay I’m leaving.” Gabriel said, hands raised in surrender.
“Yeah and put Mike down and you get home. I never want to see the creep again.” Aziraphale called as Gabriel beat a hasty retreat into the main hallway. He was only half-joking. The pipes in the bathroom and Anathema’s room were howling with laughter.

After a moment in which Aziraphale had considered a number of methods of self-immolation, Crowley’s head appeared from the bathroom.
“No.” Aziraphale said simply, moving to try and scoop all the embarrassing mess back into the bag.
“Oh come on angel, let me seeeeeee. It can’t be that bad.” He said, tickling Aziraphale to get him out of the way. They collapsed into the bed and Crowley snagged the magazine that Aziraphale had first pulled out of the bag

“No!” He said, trying to snatch it back.
“I didn’t realise you were so keen to read it, angel.” He a teased keeping it just out of Aziraohale’s grasp, flicking through with raised eyebrows. “Oh. I think I’ll be confiscating this.” He said.
“Crowley!” Aziraphale said, aghast.
“What? Gabe owes me one. Besides, if you read it your innocent little jumpers would combust.” he argued.
“Well if I’m so innocent why I don’t know how you seemed to be enjoying yourself. So much” he snapped.
“Oh you are going to be a bitchy gay.” Crowley thrilled.

“Well, we both know which of us is going to be him, and which of us is him,” Aziraphale said, nodding to the page Crowley had left the dirty magazine open on. His eyes widened as he had been thoroughly called out. 
“How do you-?” He began.
“Your reaction to hair pulling is very telling, dear.” Aziraphale smirked.
“Have you read the leaflet on it?” Crowley teased snidely.

Aziraphale was still trying to scoop back up an exploded box of condoms with increasing embarrassment. “Why are there so many types?" He sighed, becoming clumsier as he fretted.
“Aziraphale.” Crowley's tone was much gentler now.
“Don’t look at me.” Aziraphale begged. The only thing worse than being teased was being pitied.
“Aziraphale it’s okay.” Crowley insisted. Aziraphale knew he could see why he was so upset. His inexperience was fresh in both their minds, only highlighted by everything everything Gabriel had said.

“I can do it Crowley. I almost did it and it would have been fine. It would have been exactly what I wanted.” he huffed.
“I know. But that doesn’t mean you were ready. I should know that, I should have slowed you down. You just make me a little bit irrational.” He sighed, glancing into the bag.
“I don’t even know what most of it is.” He whispered, nudging the bag.
“It’s okay angel. Whoever this Mike creep is, he’s trying to freak you out. There’s some ... weird shit in here.”
“He’s just some lecherous old flirt Gabriel knows. He creeps me out a bit actually.” Aziraphale admitted. Crowley took the bag and glanced in before he put it on the floor, away from Aziraphale’s fretting gaze.
“Christ how much did he spend on a stupid joke?” He asked
“He’s as rich as he is stupid.”
“So a future prime minister then?” He asked. Aziraphale laughed a little at that. Crowley pulled him into a soft kiss. It stayed gentle, much to Aziraphale’s relief. 

“Gabe certainly knows how to kill a mood.” He sighed as he sat back. 
“Yeah ... a lot of that was heavy at first. How are you feeling?” Crowley asked.
There was a tap at the open door. “Book girl! We were about to do feelings, you want in?”
“Crowley!” Aziraphale said, glancing at Anathema hovering in the doorway.
“What? We both know you’ll tell her everything anyway and I if have to put up with her smirking at me knowingly while you go to the loo once more, it’ll kill me.”

He sighed and nodded. Anathama came in and took the chair. It gave Aziraphale a chance to think. “I think we’re gonna be okay, me and him. Once the embarrassment dies down, that is.” He said.
“That stuff about your dad ... you didn’t tell me that.” Crowley whispered, pressing closer.
“Yeah, but you already knew.” He shrugged “I mean now you definitely know. You saw the scar." He gave him a questioning look and he sighed. “Dad er … it was his fault. He pushed me when he was drunk. There was broken glass… it isn’t important.” He frowned, looking down at his hands.

Crowley’s jaw worked as though he were trying not to scream. “I didn’t think it was that bad.” He said eventually. “And I didn’t think I’d ever hear admit he upset Bee.” he added.
“He did more than upset them...” Aziraphale said very quietly.
“He’s getting help, angel.” Crowley soothed him.
“I know, but the fact that it’s in him ... maybe I’m like him too, it could run in the family. Maybe it’s why I’m so ... broken.” He whispered
“You’re stronger than anyone I know, hon.” Anathema said.

“I like the book girl. Is she one of ours?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale nodded.
“I’m bi if you’re asking. And I know some people in the society Gabe mentioned. I can introduce you to some so you don’t feel intimidated going in.” She offered. He nodded gratefully. 
“Who knew there was a society Gabriel wasn’t in.” Crowley teased fondly, breaking the tension. Aziraphale laughed and cuddled into his side.

“Hey Anathema?” he asked.
“Yeah hon?” She smiled.
“You want to keep me company at a Halloween party next week?” Crowley laughed quietly and ruffled his hair, but he didn’t take his hopeful eyes off her. She stood up and went to the door, an exaggerated consideration on her fine features.
“Hmmmm … You know, I’ll have to think about it, Zira.” She teased, ducking and making her escape as a flustered Aziraphale launched a pillow at her head.

Chapter Text

“What is Crowley wearing tonight?” Anathema asked.
“He wouldn’t tell me.” Aziraphale pouted as he hunted through the back room of the party shop. He held up a Beetlejuice costume and she snorted, slapping it out of his hand.
“I suppose it’s not like you could do a couples costume.” She said pointedly. He sighed, they’d been having the same argument for days.
“You know why we can’t be public Anathema. Gabriel …” He reminded her.
“Would get over it. I want to be able to post cute candids of the two of you rather than just horde them.” She sighed dreamily.
“You what?” He asked, looking up.
“Shut up, you’re too cute to ignore.” She said, holding up a sexy nurse costume in disgust.

Aziraphale laughed and passed her a costume of velma from scooby doo. “We could do a couples costume?” He said, finding the rest of the characters in the box.
“I don’t think so.” She said, rolling her eyes.
“Well what are you going to wear?” He asked.
“I don’t know.” She sighed.

He smirked as he held up a pointy hat and a fake nose, rather proud of himself.
“That’s demeaning.” She said sharply.
“It’ll help you educate people… A visual aid.” He said innocently. She snatched the hat out of his hand and put it on, posing in front of the funfair at the back of the shop.
“You’ll let me correct entrenched patriarchal misconceptions all night?” She asked. He nodded. “Keep the nose.” She said, smiling “I have a cape that will match this beautifully.” She proclaimed, turning on Aziraphale with a smile. “You want to be an angel again? A proper one.”
“No way!” He said, shaking his head.

“It would be romantic! You’re revisiting the night you met.” She said. He smiled at the idea. “It’s like that version of Romeo and Juliet, the 90s one.” She cooed, playing into his weaknesses.
“He’ll think it’s sentimental.” Aziraphale argued, only wanting to be further convinced.
“He’ll think you look beautiful.” She said.
“He doesn’t think I’m that, ever.” He said quickly
“That’s not what I hear through the wall…” She smiled knowingly. He blushed severely at that, only looking up when she produced a huge pair of pure white wings.
“Okay.” He smiled, taking them from her with a smile.

***

The Hole in the Wall looked even more of a dive at night. All manner of creatures of darkness lurked around its doorway, breathing spirals of smoke up into the night. He led Anathema in, but the space was transformed. The chairs were pushed around the edge of the room, the tables and plants vanished. Some people had hammed up and gone full Halloween costume, some wore as little as possible. It was the first time Aziraphale had walked into a room and wanted to be more visibly queer. He felt utterly safe here. It was like coming home.

The barman recognised him and waved him over. “You look amazing.” Aziraphale smiled, taking in the impeccable drag makeup he was wearing.
“Just for that you can each have a free drink.” He winked, voice as gravely as ever “What’s your poison?”
“You got some sparkly cocktails for me to try?” Aziraphale asked, emboldened.
“You know I do. Oi Pete one frankenkiss and one bloody mary.” He shouted. The other barman, swathed in bandages that exposed his midriff and thighs, nodded and set to work.
“Is he here?” Aziraphale called.
“He’s out the back, but he asked me not to send you through. Oh don’t look so upset. He wants to keep the costume a surprise.” The first barman said.
“Is it good?” Aziraphale asked.
“He’s outdone himself.” He said.

Two cocktails were put down in front of them and he winked. “Wait! I never got your name.” Aziraphale laughed.
“Tonight, dahling you can call me Cuppa, Cuppa Tea.” He winked and theatrically rearranged what had to be the best fake boobs Aziraphale had ever seen.
"Do you know no witch was ever burnt in America, but a male witch was crushed with a boulder, the only person ever to receive the punishment." Anathema said.
"Is that so, love?" He asked, eyeing her uncertainly.They thanked him and took their drinks off towards the stage.

“Oh they’re here!” She squealed, running over to a guy wearing a HUNGRY LIKE THE WOLF t-shirt with fake werewolf hands and ears and big clawed slippers that looked incredibly comfy. She almost tackled him with the force of her hug. There was a girl with truly grotesque zombie makeup and another girl in an astounding pirate outfit. Anathema waved him over and introduced them all. They were the society members Anathema had promised to introduce him to. They all seemed to lead with their orientation before their course or even their name. He introduced himself simply as Azi and let Anathema explain he was thinking of joining the society. They were all very kind to him, but they were asking the kind of questions he had barely started to answer himself. He listened to them talk, learning how to unapologetically talk about queerness from them while his cheeks burn crimson. He really was an angel, he thought, being so stuffy. He loved to listen to them though, it was inspiring in a way. It made him feel rebellious. They complimented her beautiful costume, which was really one of her everyday dresses and special occasion capes along with the party shop hat. "Did you know, nobody knows where the word witch comes from, there are two main theories-" She started to explain.

Just then a prim “ahem.” Washed over them all. Cuppa Tea, in all her splendour, was up behind the mic. “Good evening you incorrigible lot.” She said in a terrible approximation of the queen’s English. “Welcome to The Low lives in Low Places Halloween Extravaganzah.” She crowed to huge applause. “We shall be having a disco for all of you filthy things to go bump in the night to a little later. “ She said, letting a few jeers die out with a severe look before she continued. “But first, please welcome the sacrificial offering that is … the band who changes their name so frequently that I didn’t bother to ask.” She said, sweeping her arm towards the bar. An appreciative laugh ran around the room.

Crowley and his classmates appeared from behind the bar to a raucous cheer. Aziraphale couldn’t help but laugh. They were all dressed as the front men of different bands. He watched as they made their way to the stage, taking their places. Zombie John Lennon was on the keyboard, Gene Simmons in his Kiss make-up took up a place behind the drumkit. The bassist was in a stunning androgynous purple Prince suit and Crowley looked resplendent in a distressed military jacket. He led the way with a huge tattered union jack that he locked into place at the side of the stage. Aziraphale wondered how many people would recognise the lead singer of iron maiden, he loved it.

He saw Crowley scanning the crowd as he pulled on his guitar, giving a few quick strums to test the sound. That’s when he spotted Aziraphale, eyes dragging down over his costume in a way that felt anything but holy. He pressed his palms together, as though he were praying, then he was back with the band. “Evening ghouls and boys.” He smiled into his microphone. The bassist told him to shut up into her mic and the set was beginning.

The keyboard started up with a weird interpretation of the Scooby Doo theme tune and everyone was singing along drunkenly by the end of the first bar. The mood only swelled when they started a mashup of thriller and heads will roll that had been on Glee years ago. They knew their audience. The set was just cheesy enough, yet they had managed to give each song a rockier edge. The Bassist’s voice was incredible, she managed to hit every note that Crowley couldn’t. He looked like he was having so much fun up there that Aziraphale found himself intensely jealous of her. Maybe it would be worth performing in front of people if he got to have Crowley looking at him like that.

Aziraphale bobbed along with them, arm looped through Anathema’s as they danced. Her friends from the society were scattered around. It seemed like the kind of night where everyone knew everybody. For a moment Aziraphale felt a strange disconnect from it all. These people had been out in the community for years, they had a network. He felt an overwhelming moment of loneliness. Then the riff of don’t fear the reaper kicked in and he looked up to see Crowley staring at him again. Anathema pushed him forwards and he made his way to the edge of the little stage, smirking up at Crowley.

Crowley was grinning down at him cockily, winking at him as the next song started. Aziraphale laughed at his open flintiness. People seemed to be eating it up. He was such a natural performer, occasionally shouting out to the crowd, completely confident that they would call back, and they did. Aziraphale couldn’t look away. He was entranced by him. It could have just been the two of them in the music practice room for all Aziraphale knew. Crowley dropped down to his knees in front of him, singing to him as he played a blusier riff. Aziraphale felt his face het up but he didn’t shy away. “two graves in Mississippi but nobody knows, tell me where did they lay you down?” He sang, leaning closer. “The devil made me do it.” Aziraphale mouthed along, feeling very sinful indeed. Someone whooped and Crowley pulled back, smirking as he rose to his feet. The crowd had loved the display almost as much as Aziraphale.

Eventually Anathema came to pull him away again, he was being far too obvious in his staring. They danced happily together, laughing giddily. “I’m going to get a drink, can I trust you not to mount him?” She shouted a few songs later. He laughed and nodded, watching her go before he turned his attention back to the stage, grinning as Everybody started with the drummer howling.

“Fancy seeing you here, little dove.” A coy voice came from beside him, he glanced around in confusion as he realised it was aimed at him. It was a wrench to take his eyes off Crowley, but when he did, he paled, Mike was standing beside him. How long had he been there? How much had he seen?
“M-Michael.” He greeted him. “Who are you here with?” He asked, looking around quickly.
“Flying solo. I thought I might make some friends.” He said, raising his eyebrows. “How about you?”
“Oh. I’m here with a friend.” He said quickly.
“In the band?” He asked, smirking.
“What? No. She’s getting drinks.” He blushed, praying he would buy it.

“Well you look like you’re having fun … being out, it suits you.” He said. Reaching out to brush a stray curl from Aziraphale’s face. There was nowhere he could go to avoid the hand, here were too many people around him.
“There, now you’re perfect... divine in fact” He smirked. Aziraphale could feel eyes on him. He glanced away quickly, finding Crowley’s eyes glaring at Mike with a fury he hadn’t imagined possible. He sent Crowley an apologetic glance, praying he would stay on the stage. The last thing they needed was for Mike to recognise him.

“Lovely to see you Mike.” He said quickly “But I should go check on my friend. She’s been gone a while.” He shouted over the increasingly aggressive guitar riffs pealing from the stage.
“Don’t be like that Azi, let’s get to know each other a little better.” He smiled wolfishly, a hand appearing on Aziraphale’s hip. The song ended and Aziraphale glanced around to see someone pulling Crowley back onto position on the stage, miming just a few more songs. All he wanted was Crowley wrapped round him, telling Mike exactly where he could shove his hand, but Crowley likely couldn’t even see the offence from the stage. If he had he certainly wouldn’t have been convinced to stay put.

“You got my present I heard?” He pressed, leaning down o shout in Aziraphale’s ear. He winced, feeling his cheeks burning between them. He didn’t respond. “Yeah Gabe handed me my ass for that, but I bet it was funny.” He sighed. “you need anyone to talk to Azi? I could … help you out?” He said, eyes, skating down to Aziraphale’s lips. When Crowley did that, Aziraphale felt like he was the most desirable person in the world, when Mike did it, he felt disgusting, used. He needed to get away from this letch as fast as he could. He realised distantly, that he was frightened of him.

The crowd around him seemed to grow, blocking every escape route from him. “I need the loo.” He blurted, ducking out of his grasp and darting between two girls dancing behind him. They tutted and glared after him, but he was oblivious. He wasn’t sure where he was headed, but a staircase appeared, an open doorway at the top spilling delicious cold air down into the bar. He grabbed the bannister and took the stairs two at a time until he found himself cresting onto a small terrace tucked inti the side of the bar, He could hear the shouts from the main roof terrace somewhere above him, but this was fine for now.

There was one lone figure leaning against the barrier, staring down to the street. Their back was to him as he reached the chill air. They turned to glance at him as he took a seat, scrubbing his face as he tried to calm himself. “Well if it isn’t the prodigal son.” They said, a taunt clear in their voice. Aziraphale glanced up, stilling as he recognised Bee illuminated by their cigarette. There seemed to be no escaping Gabriel’s messy web tonight.
“Bee…” He said softly. He knew so much about their life, the most personal things possible, yet he had never really met them. He had no idea what to say.

“Are you lost?” They asked, eyebrows raised.
“No?” He said uncertainly.
“He never told me you were … you know.” They said, blowing out a jet of smoke.
“Yeah well … he only recently found out himself.” He said uncomfortably.
“Oh I bet that wasn’t fun.” They said, turning to face him properly.
“Not at first … he’s making an effort though.” They raised their eyebrows at that, offering him the cigarette, he shook his head and they smirked. “Yeah … he always said you were a goody two shoes. I’m surprised you even bothered coming out to him, surprised you’re here.” They said. Aziraphale stayed quiet, he had no illusions exactly what Bee had been told about him. He had always been a good, quiet child. Boring.

“How is he?” they asked, a catch in their voice. Aziraphale hesitated.
“Worse.” He admitted “But he’s getting help.”
“Because of her?” They asked, taking another drag. It wasn’t anger in their face. It wasn’t even surprise.
“Partly … “ He said
“I shouldn’t be surprised really. They were always obvious, like the world made them for each other.” They shrugged, stubbing out the cigarette purposefully.

“I’m sorry Bee.” He said quietly.
“Why? You’ve never done anything to me.” They shrugged.
“I’m sorry that he hurt you. I know what its like … to be on the other side of that anger. So does he but … I’m sorry he put you through that.” He blurted, Bee observed him coldly.
“You think you know what happened between us?” They asked.
“I have suspicions.” He said, regretting saying anything at all.
“Of course he wouldn’t tell you, even now.”

“Did he mention me? Ever?” They asked, a hint of pain behind their sneer.
“No, I had no idea until I got here.” He said.
“Uri tell you?” They guessed.
“When you came to the party … She thought I knew all about it. He’s been telling lies for a long time, I think.” Aziraphale sighed.

“He was always making excuses, my Gabriel.” They sighed “I thought you would be different. Why are you really here, Aziraphale?” They asked.
“What?” He frowned
I saw you out there, staring at him. What’s worse is I saw him staring back. He’s desperate for your attention, isn’t he? I thought I was going mad, but then I remembered the party, the two of you slipping to the garden … ever since he’s been acting weird. It was obviously a boy, but I never thought he’d do something like this…” They sighed, squinting like they were looking for something in particular.

They fell quiet as there were footsteps on the stairs. Aziraphale dropped his glance, but Bee didn’t move away.
"What’s going on out here then?" came Crowley’s casual drawl. His eyes shot up to Crowley, not knowing how to act now that he was here. An irrational relief spread through him, only slightly tempered when Crowley refused to meet his eye.
"Nothing for you to worry about, Crowley. Just saying hello." Bee said, taking a step back.
"You should be playing..." Aziraphale said, eyes on the floor.

"I've got a break ... You got a cigarette for me Bee?" He asked. They turned and passed him their pack, lighting it for him and taking a seat beside him on the bench, their eyes appraising on Aziraphale.

"So, what are we chatting about." Crowley asked into the awkward silence. Aziraphale glanced at the steps wondering if he could make a break for it and find Anathema in the crowd. The thought of all those people was even worse than the atmosphere out here. He shivered as the October night started to creep upon him.

"Old friends." Bee shrugged, taking it for a drag.

"I think I'll be going, actually." Aziraphale said, making his mind up.

"Then we'll chat later." Bee promised, levelling their stare at him.

"I'm going home." He corrected. Finally, Crowley looked at him. He sighed and glanced between the two of them.

"Aziraphale no, come here." He said.

"Crowley ..." He warned, nodding to Bee without much subtlety.

"No, I'm not putting up with this another minute. I hate it.” He said firmly. Aziraphale refused to move. Crowley got back on his feet and crossed the tiny space to him, resting his hands on his arms. Aziraphale pulled back, panic starting to ensnare him. “Angel…” He murmured sweetly, touching his cheek. Aziraphale refocused his attention on Crowley, feeling himself calm slightly. He nodded, letting Crowley wind an arm around him and drop a kiss on his forehead. He smelt of smoke. Aziraphale wasn’t sure he liked it.

"This is stupid even for you Crowley” Bee said, observing them with distaste.

“Well you knew I was seeing somebody; I don’t see why who it is should matter to you.” He shrugged.

“After Gabriel? They have every right not to trust me Crowley.” Aziraphale sighed “They care about you.” He added.

“He's going to hurt you." Bee said matter of factly.

"Yeah he looks like it." Crowley said sarcasically, pulling the meek Aziraphale closer to his side.

"Even if he doesn’t, what do you think Gabriel will do to you? What do you think he'll do to one of our lot messing with his precious little brother? You know he’s the only thing Gabriel really cares about. Even before he arrived, he was all Gabe would talk about." They sighed.

"I'm not messing with him." Crowley said firmly. “This isn’t a game, me and him. I – I really care about him.” He admitted, dropping his gaze between them all.

“Oh I’m sure that’ll stop a fist.” Bee laughed without humour.

"I'm not saying he’s not a dickhead, but I can handle him,” Crowley promised.

“We weren’t planning on telling him any time soon.” Aziraphale added

“More secrets. They don’t work out well for your type, unhinges them a bit.” They smirked.

“Watch it Bee.” Crowley said darkly. They were all quiet as the two regarded each other coolly.

“Besides, Gabriel wouldn't do anything to upset Aziraphale, so that inner conflict would give me a good minute to make a run for it." Crowley said, trying to crack the tension.

"This isn't a joke, they're dangerous. Whatever was wrong with their dad is in them. He might look innocent but they're no good Crowley. Pick another first year, literally anyone else."
"I'll be the fucking judge of that Bee." Crowley said taking a step forwards, shrugging out of Aziraphale’s grip.

“Are you going to threaten me?” They asked, stubbing out the cigarette with disinterest. “It takes a lot more than you and your baggage to frighten me Crowley, remember that.” They said, pushing off the wall and heading for the stairs. They paused as they drew level with Aziraphale, who did his best not to flinch away. They gave him a colder look than he had ever felt. Satisfied, they glanced back to Crowley "He never sets foot in my house."  They said, descending back into the bar.

Aziraphale pulled in a ragged breath that stung his lungs, sharp and cold. "Hey I've got you angel, I've got you." Crowley said, moving back to his side.
"I'm sorry." He sighed.
"What are you sorry for?" Crowley smiled gently.
"Your friends are all going to hate you because of me … and Bee is right, you could do so much better than me." He frowned “Someone who actually knows how to make you happy.”
"You know that's a lie." He said, tilting his chin up "Since I've been with you my grades have gone up, my skin has cleared and my house plants have grown." He teased fondly. Aziraphale gave a weak chuckle and leaned into him, burying his face in his chest.

“I guess the secret is out.” He mumbled eventually.
“You don’t have to tell him you know. He never told you.” Crowley pointed out.
“I’m sick of hiding and lying and having to let go of you every time someone walks past. I want to be able to come places like this and kiss you, not just stare from across the room.”

“I think you’re underestimating how mad he’ll be.” Crowley said.
“I’ll do it on my own. I don’t want you near him when I tell him.” He sighed. “Besides, it makes me a hypocrite if I don’t tell him, doesn’t it?”

“Why do you have to be so good, angel?” He sighed, resting their foreheads together lovingly.

“You need to go finish your set so I can take you home.” He teased weakly, pushing Crowley away.

“Why? Is the uniform doing it for you, angel?” He said, kissing him sweetly. Aziraphale smiled when he pulled back.
“Let me find Anathema and the others for you before I go back on? I only have a few more songs and then we can dance.” He promised. Aziraphale nodded and took his hand. The crowds didn’t seem nearly so bad with Crowley’s hand in his own.

 Anathema’s arms were around him after a moment and Crowley was back up on stage, smiling down at him as he played. For the rest of his set, his eyes never left Aziraphale. It was as loud as he could be. A thought formed in the back of Aziraphale’s mind, unspeakable and beautiful and much, much too soon. He smiled back, laughing as Anathema had him spinning and twirling with her. He barely even noticed the music switching into a disco, finally feeling Crowley press close. “May have the next dance?” He asked with a smile. Anathema gave a theatrical bow and left them to it.

“Michael was here.” He told him, winding his arms around Crowley’s neck as the 80s ballads began.
“That creep who had his hands all over you?” He asked, eyes dark. Aziraphale nodded. “Well if I’d realised that was the infamous Mike I would have done more than spill a drink over him.” He said.
“You never!” He asked, scandalised,

“Yeah, the peacock scarpered. I think I saw him leaving after that. I might have to teach him some manners next time.”
“He’s not actually interested. Don’t be upset. You know I would never …” Aziraphale said, blushing.

“I know angel, I know you wouldn’t do that. I’m just worried.” He murmured, hand skating down between his wings to the small of his back.
“About what?” He asked.
“He’s taking too many liberties to just be a flirt. First that awful bag now this. He enjoys toying with you. I watched him from up there. It creeped me out.” He frowned.
“He makes me feel slimy.” Aziraphale admitted.
“Don’t be alone with him okay? I know his type.” He said darkly. Aziraphale raised a questioning eyebrow.
“They like … inexperience.” He said.
“Oh.” He said, feeling very naive.

“Forget him. I’m here now and no one else is gonna get near you. My angel.” He promised.
 “You really don’t see me like other people do, I don’t think your claim is in danger.” He laughed.
“It’s you who doesn’t see clearly, Zira.” He whispered in his ear, that name sending a thrill through him. He turned his head and kissed him gently, revelling in being somewhere nobody would bat an eyelid at two boys kissing in a corner. Crowley looked over him with a smile. “My silly, sentimental angel.” He said softly.

“I knew it was a bad idea.” He whispered, feeling childish.
“Beautiful.” He told him, kissing his forehead softly.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

When Aziraphale opened his eyes, he was slow to realise he wasn’t in his own bed. He had never seen the room before. It was easily three or four times bigger than his room in halls. The bed was a double, sheeted in a dark charcoal grey. He went to push himself up into a seated position, gasping as his arm gave way beneath him. He remembered it all, the alleyway, Gabriel, the panic attack, dragging Crowley the few streets to his place.

He looked around again, realising that this must be Crowley’s bed. He levered himself up from the bed with one arm and some difficulty. His whole body ached. He was still in his torn clothes, all except his shoes, which sat neatly by the bed. He got up and crossed to an ostentatiously large mirror leaning against the wall. He undressed himself slowly, taking in the angry bruise draping over his shoulder like a cape. His skin was littered in smaller scratches and bruises. One or two were from Crowley, but they were faded to a pale yellow, the new ones were already shining blue. He hovered his fingers over them, trying not to remember how they had got there. He twisted, looking at the scar on his side. He had half expected it to be open again, but it sat there, pale and watchful as always.

He moved over to the wardrobe, doubting Crowley would have anything that would actually fit him, but the thought of utting his shredded jumper back on made him cringe. He glanced in, finding almost exclusively band shirts and skinny black jeans. At the back he found some comfy joggers and pulled them on. He selected the baggiest, softest band shirt, humming appreciatively when he saw it was an ancient AC/DC affair.

He glanced at the clock, four am. He must have been out for some time. He could still hear the bubble of voices rising from the floor below, but the words themselves were lost. He took his chance to nose around the room. The floors were surprisingly clear, but the walls were littered with papers. They were taped and tacked and pinned on every inch of wall space. He was sure Crowley wouldn’t be getting his deposit back.

He crept closer to investigate one such scrap. It was a hand drawn score. He tried to follow the notes in his mind but it quickly surpassed his ability to read. In the corner was scrawled ‘A, for violin’. He moved to the desk next, bare but for a few textbooks on music theory. It was surrounded by a halo of colourful postcards, from Doctor Who to cheesy red London busses.

All of his instruments were stacked up in a corner, from a huge case that could only have been a cello, all the way down to a ukulele lying bare on the floor.

He sighed as he cracked open the door. The hallway was covered with lonely shoes and jackets, but devoid of people. He wondered how they had got him up the stairs. He tentatively stepped out and crept silently along the hallway. The stairs were more of an issue, the bannister being on his weakened side. He moved down them slowly, trailing his good hand down the wall. The voices were louder now, but still formless. He thought he could make out Harry and Crowley talking, but he wasn’t certain.

Aziraphale sucked in a breath and poked his head around the door. Only Damon and Bee looked up, both hovering in the kitchen doorway to watch Harry prodding at Crowley. “Here he is, the boy worth fighting for.” Damon said, a slight smile curling his lip. Crowley cracked open an eye and smiled
“Hey angel.” He said, spirit undampened by his beating.
“You still calling him that?” Damon asked with a chuckle.
“You work at the SU.” Aziraphale said, remembering where he had seen him before, he had been working the bar on the first night.
“Yeah. Makes sense you only having eyes for one of the bar staff though.” He teased.
“Oh you’re ginger too Damon, don’t take it too hard, it could have been either of us.” Crowley consoled him, smirking broadly. Aziraphale blushed deeply, he hadn’t realised how obvious he was with his type.

“Enough of this.” Bee said, rolling their eyes. They all fell silent. “Will he be alright Harry?”
“Bruised ribs. Well, bruised everything. He took a good kicking, but he’ll survive.” Harry said.
“Thank you for that sensitively delivered diagnosis, Doctor LaVista.” He teased.
“Oh he’s fine.” Harry said dryly.
“You should see the other guy.” Crowley slurred. Aziraphale’s eyes zeroed in on the glass he was loosely holding and his cockiness made much more sense.

“Are you sure it was Gabriel?” Bee asked.
“You’re gonna stick up for the bastard?” Damon asked sceptically.
“It just doesn’t make sense. He would never hurt Aziraphale.” Bee said, looking at him with a deep frown.
“It was kind of my fault.” Aziraphale admitted. Crowley muttered something darkly under his breath, but Harry pushed him firmly back down to the couch. “I’d had a panic attack, I think. It left me all unbalanced. I fell and landed badly.” He said.
“He fucking pushed him. He didn’t fall.” Crowley corrected.
“You all bend over backward to make Gabriel the good guy, nothing ever changes.” Damon snorted. “You want a drink Aziraphale?” He asked, raising his glass to him. He wrinkled his nose even at the thought of more whiskey. “I’ll make you a cuppa.” He said with a smile.

“I think Zira and I need a little chat.” Bee said. Aziraphale blushed furiously and Crowley spluttered on his whiskey.
“What?” Bee frowned. “That’s what you were calling him while he was passed out.” They said, non-plussed.
“It’s just that … only I call him that … when we, you know.” He said, looking more prim than Aziraphale had ever seen him.
“Oh, you’re disgusting Crowley.” Bee sighed “Aziraphale and I will have a chat.” Harry was laughing quietly. Crowley aimed a flick at his arm and missed.
“Some disorientation and poor hand eye coordination noted.” He said dryly.
“Oh fuck off Doctor LaVista.” Crowley said spitefully.

Damon came back in with a mug for Aziraphale, pressing the whiskey bottle into Bee’s hand before he vanished up the stairs. Harry made some last vindictive prods at Crowley and prescribed two paracetamols, watching Crowley take them before he left, claiming he had something more interesting to do. “Go to sleep Crowley.” Bee said softly, touching his shoulder.
“No, you’ll talk about me.” He pouted.
“Only the bad stuff.” They winked. He gave a little chuckle and glanced at Aziraphale. He nodded, he could look after himself for a while. “I’ll watch him.” Bee promised. A tender look passed between them and Crowley melted further into the couch, his eyes sliding closed.

Bee moved over and took the other side of the sofa, a careful space between them. Aziraphale pulled his legs up under him and turned to face them a little more. He took a sip of his tea, not sure what to say. “I guess you were right, at the bar.” He said eventually.
“I was awful to you the other day, wasn’t I?” They asked quietly. Aziraphale shrugged, regretting it immediately as his shoulder complained. “I was. You’re just too polite to say.” They smiled.

“He said such awful things about Crowley…” Aziraphale said quietly, unable to ignore what had happened anymore.
“He doesn’t know him like we do.” Bee shrugged.
“I feel like a barely know him sometimes. I never know what he’s thinking, all I know about his past are the rumours around campus… and the things Gabe said last night” He said sadly.
“You want the crash course?” Bee asked. Aziraphale nodded.

“He went off the rails when he came to uni. He was out from a … traditional family. He drank and he smoked and he worked his way through every gay guy in his year, and then some of the straight ones.” Bee sighed. “You can imagine it didn’t really make him all that popular.” They said. Aziraphale nodded, only confirming what he’d expected, what Gabriel had already told him. It burnt him. He knew he had no right to Crowley’s past, but the idea of him with other people made his skin crawl.

“His mum got sick and they couldn’t send him money so he took up a few bar jobs, started dealing. Just to friends at first, then friends of friends. He went to drop at a house party and the police turned up. They couldn’t prove he had dealt it, so he got a caution. Obviously though his mum and dad had to come and get him out. He hadn’t seen her since the diagnosis. It was … bad. Damon started hanging out with him through work, then he was here more and more. Our old flatmate Liam was dropping out, so we offered Crowley his room, he was already part of the furniture after all. He and Gabe never got on. He was always telling me that I shouldn’t be putting up with his shit.” Bee said, pulling a face at the mention of Gabe.

“It was about more than me. Gabe was … vicious.” Aziraphale sighed. “I just wish I understood.” Bee hesitated as they thought.
“You deserve to know what happened with me and Gabe.” They said, pouring another drink for themselves.
“No, I’m not going to make you relive that. It’s enough that you haven’t kicked me out or told him I’m here.” He said.
“I want to talk about it.” They insisted. “Gabe and I … it was never a healthy relationship, especially after I came out.” They said. “He said all of the stupid toxic stuff you would expect. He said he couldn’t cope with me transitioning, he wasn’t gay. If he bothered to ask he’d know I never wanted to transition.” They sighed “I don’t want to be a boy any more than I want to be a girl.”
“I understand that.” Aziraphale assured them. They smiled gratefully. “Well after that, he started getting really stressed, started drinking too much. I started smoking too much. Neither of us was good to be around. I started trying things a little … harder than weed. I wasn’t nice to be around, but it made the dysphoria go away for a while.” They said, staring into their glass.

Aziraphale couldn’t imagine the pain of it. His tastes had felt like a betrayal to himself for so long, he couldn’t imagine his very body betraying him so thoroughly. He saw his privilege so clearly in that moment. His body was a tool, Bee’s was a cage. “We started arguing a lot, nasty stuff. Then we started pushing each other around…” They trailed off, taking a deep swig of their drink, eyes fixed on Crowley. Aziraphale watched them for a while, glancing at Crowley sleeping undisturbed. Something crossed his mind, something that Gabriel hadn’t said, but it would all make so much sense.

“Uri told me that you … one of your housemates slept with you. It was him, wasn’t it?” Aziraphale asked quietly, his eyes on Crowley’s rising and falling chest. Bee sighed and it was all the confirmation he needed. It was one thing to know Crowley was experienced, even to hear that he’d been with people in ways Aziraphale never seemed able to go through with. It was quite another to sit across from one of those people, especially when they obviously cared so much about him, and was cared about in turn. It was something he could never compete with. The jealous thought they weren’t even a boy seared across his mind before he could stop it. He hated himself for it.

There was something beyond jealousy in him, a spark that was twisting, smouldering. He looked out of the window into the lightening dawn, wondering if it had started as a spark for Gabriel, for his father. It died the moment Bee laid a hand on his knee. “It’s not like you think, Aziraphale.” They said earnestly.
“I don’t need the specifics, thank you.” He said distastefully.
“I think you do. We didn’t have sex.” They said, an uncomfortable note in their voice that drew Aziraphale in. He looked back at them, squeezing his mug tightly to calm himself down. “I was struggling with a new binder; Crowley was the only person I could ask. Obviously, we were high as shit so we thought it would be funny to put an old one on him. Gabriel bursts in drunk, sees us topless and giggling on the bed, hands in places he didn’t think hands should be. He jumped to the same conclusions any cis man would.” They said, looking him right in the eye. He held their gaze, frightened even to blink and shatter the vulnerability between them.

“What did he do?” He breathed.
“I locked Crowley out, I knew he’d pull him apart otherwise. Gabriel … he pushed me and I hit the wall, hard. He pinned me there by the neck. If I wasn’t high with a concussion it would have been fine, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I knew he was shouting but I still don’t know what he was saying. I saw his hand coming towards me and I remember my head going back.” They fell silent for a moment, eyes distant as they pieced together the memories.

“Harry and Crowley were in the ambulance with me. The police came to the hospital. Harry had told me that if I told them everything, Gabriel would get done for domestic assault. I couldn’t do it. I knew I’d never be with him again, but I couldn’t do that to him, to his family.” They sighed.

“He’s a monster.” Aziraphale said, horrified.
“He waited outside the hospital all day. When we came out, he tried to get to me, Crowley put Gabe on his arse faster than I thought anyone could. We left him there, on the street with injuries worse than he’d given me. No one comes out of this story the good guy.” They said. “So don’t take this too hard, a Gabriel - Crowley rematch was always on the cards. You’re the perfect excuse to settle their stupid alpha-male grudge.” Bee muttered.

“Thank you. For telling me all of this.” Aziraphale said quietly. He leant over and took their hand in his own. They blinked in surprise, but they didn’t pull away.
“He wasn’t always a bastard … I really did love him. I think he loved me, as much as he could.”
“Sometimes that isn’t enough.” He said softly.
“How can you be so much smarter than him?” They smiled. Aziraphale laughed quietly.
“Same way I can be cuter and have better music taste.” He teased gently. They let go of his hand with a smile that bordered on fond.
“I’ve heard things about your music taste.” They smirked, obviously enjoying seeing him squirm in embarrassment.

“I’m glad he found you. If you need to lie low for a while, Gabe won’t look for you here, stay as long as you want.” They said, tone becoming gentle again. Bee laid a welcoming hand on his good shoulder before they crossed to check on Crowley. It was a more sibling-like display than he had ever experienced with Gabriel.
“Thank you.” Aziraphale murmured, grateful. He watched Bee wrestle the half-full glass from the sleeping Crowley and knock it back in one smooth gulp.

“I’ve never seen him asleep.” Aziraphale realised. He looked so still, all his boundless energy lost. It made him look younger and older all at once. He longed to curl up beside him, seeing exactly where he would fit against his side.
“Wait … you two haven’t …. But it’s been months.” They said. Aziraphale didn’t have the energy to be abashed.
“I know … he thinks I’m not ready.” He murmured.
“Oh … he said you were only just out but I hadn’t realised he was your … first.”
“Not at this rate.” Aziraphale sighed. “I must be doing something wrong, it sounds like he never had much difficulty before me.” He said sadly.
“Aziraphale … I think it’s because he cares, You’re special to him. He wants you to feel that way.” Bee said.
“I’m not like him. I don’t drink, I don’t smoke. I’m not confident, I don’t have a past like his. How can I get his attention?”
“Trust me Zira, you have it.” They smirked.

They put down the glass and moved for the door. “You know what Aziraphale? You’re exactly like Gabriel said you were, but he doesn’t see the rest of you … it’s strange.” They said, leaving him to his thoughts.

***

Aziraphale was sitting on the edge of Crowley’s bed, fidgeting nervously with his phone. He had a worrying amount of missed calls from Anathema, even a few texts from Newt to check in on him. There was nothing from Gabriel. When he checked his contact list, a little green dot glowed beside Uriel’s name. He longed to hear her voice, to comfort her. He had been so preoccupied with Crowley he hadn’t stopped to consider the toll it must have all taken on her. He felt as though she were sitting on the other side of the city, staring at his profile picture as he was at hers, that connection tying them together.

Crowley stirred on the bed behind him. He put his phone aside and turned to watch him wake up. Even bruised as he was, it was as effortlessly beautiful as every other thing he did. “Angel?” He murmured; tone thick with sleep. He’d been out for a good twelve hours, almost a whole day slipping by as he recovered from the last night’s activities. Harry had assured him it was normal when they’d carried him up to bed in the early hours, but it had still unnerved him to see him so still for so long.  All day he had listened to the others moving through the house, hearing Bee’s music click on and off, hearing Damon humming in the bathroom as he got ready for work. Harry had returned from his post exam drinks particularly buoyant and Aziraphale had thanked him for his offer of a check-up and sent him to sober up.

“Evening, sleepy head.” He smiled, turning to face him. Crowley groaned as the pain seeped back into his body, but Aziraphale was ready with paracetamol and a glass of water. They were quiet as Crowley manged to take them and sit up, an uncertainty hanging on the air as Crowley found his bearings again.
“You’re in my room.” He said at last. “And you’re wearing my clothes.” He added.
“Hope you don’t mind. There wasn’t much left of mine when Harry was done with me.”
“Course I don’t mind, they look really good on you.” He said, something else in his voice that it took Aziraphale a moment to decode. He thought of Crowley swaddled in one of his own hoodies and the warm rush of it made him blush.

“Let me see your arm?” He asked, clearing his throat. Aziraphale scooted closer and peeled back the short sleeve of the t-shirt. It felt a little stronger but he didn’t dare put too much weight on it. The bruising had seeped further over his skin, running around the edge of his neck in an inky flow almost to his elbow. “That bastard.” He breathed, staring at it for a moment longer before his tenderly rolled the sleeve down again.
“He’s sick Crowley…” He murmured. The last thing he wanted was to witness another round of them fighting over him. The guilt already gnawed at him every time he felt his shoulder twinge.

“We need to talk about it angel.” Crowley sighed.
“We really don’t.” He insisted, pulling away from him.
“What good will ignoring it do? If you’re going to dump me you might as well get it over with.” He said, eyes glued to the dark bedspread.
“Dump you?” Aziraphale echoed.
“I mean you’ve got plenty of good excuses to. I was out of order last night. I was just so happy to be out in the world with you and he was trying to take it away-“ He started to explain, but Aziraphale cut him off.
“It wasn’t about me Crowley, not really. It wasn’t about Bee’s honour either. It was about your pride. You were both as bad as each other.” He said harshly. Crowley’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment.
“You’re right.” He sighed. “I should have put it aside and got you out of there. If I’d been less selfish you wouldn’t have panicked, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I gave him the opportunity to do that to you.” He said.

“Even after what he did to you, I can’t expect you to take my side Aziraphale. He’s your brother.” He conceded, saying the last like it was almost unfathomable to him that they could be related.
“He threatened to call my dad.” Aziraphale whispered. “That’s not what brothers do. This isn’t like the last time we argued. I don’t know if we can recover from this. You weren’t in the right, but you weren’t trying to hurt me. He was.” Aziraphale admitted.

“Then what about all the other stuff?” He asked.
“Like what?”
“Like the things I’ve been keeping hidden from you.” Crowley said, glancing up at him in shame. Aziraphale sighed. He had to admit it had unnerved him to see another side to Crowley, but it had been foolish for him to assume that they only parts of him that existed were the suave or unexpectedly tender. He took a moment, assessing if any of it really changed the way he felt about him.
“Make me a promise, right now, that all of that is in the past.” He said, looking into his eyes. Crowley paused for the barest moment, just long enough to consider the weight of his words.
“I promise. You make me want to be better.” He vowed “And since we’ve been together, I haven’t done any of that stuff. Well, I’ve drank and I’ve smoked, but not like I used to.”
“I know, and I appreciate that.” Aziraphale soothed him.

“Last night you were going to say something to me. What was it?” Crowley asked.
“I did say it.” He said, looking away. “I wanted it to be perfect and romantic, but I guess that’s just another proof that I’m too innocent for you.” Aziraphale said.
“You said it defending me, that’s more romantic than you know.” Crowley said with a small smile “I just want to hear it again angel, I don’t think I could believe it otherwise.” Aziraphale looked back at him, his tender face marked but his eyes warm. “Didn’t you hear me Aziraphale? I was trying to say it back.” He murmured.
“It’s too soon.” He said, shaking his head.

Crowley reached for him, pulling him against his chest. “I love you, Aziraphale. I love all of you, even the parts you try to hide from me... especially those parts.” He smiled. “That’s why I’ve wanted to take things slowly with you. Not because you’re too innocent or because of anything in the past. It’s because you deserve to experience everything perfectly. Better than I’m capable of.”
“You were listening in to me and Bee.” Aziraphale smiled. He nodded.
“Only to the juicy parts. I wasn’t in the best state for eavesdropping.” He conceded.
“Thing is Crowley … I don’t want a perfect fairy tale. I want you.” He said, being as brave as he could. He ran his fingers along Crowley’s high cheekbone, breath catching as he turned his face to press a kiss into his wrist tenderly.

“Aziraphale…” he sighed, brow furrowing as he released his hand. “You have to know how hard is for me, not to … I wanted to drag you into bed the moment I saw you in that silly fussy angel costume. If we hadn’t been interrupted that day at your place … I probably couldn’t have stopped myself. Then when I saw that idiot all over you at the party while you were dressed up as an angel again, all for me, I thought I was going to drag you here and never let you leave this bed.” He said carefully. “There have been a hundred times when you’ve kissed me or smiled at me across the room, or even when you’ve scrunched your nose up when you’ve written a line you’re not keen on, and it’s nearly been too much.” He sighed.
“Then why won’t you?” He whispered, threading a hand into Crowley’s hair.
“It’s never mattered to me before. But now that it does, it terrifies me. I don’t want to ruin everything between us when you make me so happy.”
“You couldn’t.” He whispered, kissing him gently to silence his worries. Crowley hummed into his lips, his hand slipping beneath his shirt to the small of his back, drawing him closer. He pulled back again, his eyes torn.

“Do you want to, Crowley? Do you want me?” He asked, voice hitching slightly at the discomfort of asking out loud. Crowley groaned in frustration.
“Of course I do, Angel; but you’re hurt. It would be cruel of me…”
“You won’t hurt me.” He promised.
“Aziraphale I …” He hesitated, lips a few inches from Aziraphale’s own.
“I want you.” He admitted, “I love you.” He whispered, looking up into his eyes.

They widened, and then Crowley was meeting him, drugging him with sweet kisses and honied words, plying him with them until his head swam. Every touch was gentle and knowing, every sigh responded to with the most devoted attention.

His hands caressed every inch of him, his lips honouring every scar, recasting them as testaments of his survival. He looked down at his softness as though it were the most desirable thing in the world. He was seen and he was worshipped until every part of him was shattered and reassembled with a knowing ease. His love was addictive, and Aziraphale understood what he meant, how could he ever stop wanting this, wanting him, when the joy of it was almost too much to bear?

That night, he slept curled up against Crowley’s side, bodies tangled close together beneath the heavy duvet to fight off the chill, or that would have been his excuse if he needed one. In truth he slept like that because he wanted nothing more than to touch as much of Crowley as he could for as long as he could.

Even when the nightmares managed to poke their way into the little world they built together, Crowley was there. He knew exactly how to gather Aziraphale in his arms, what words to soothe him with. He knew how to chase them away. He would settle him again with a possessive curl of an arm around his body, whispering to him until he fell asleep against his chest, a gentle hand in his hair.

He wouldn’t turn on his phone or leave that bed for the better part of a week. The whole world stopped when he was there, in Crowley’s arms. The thought of passing a night without him seemed unthinkable now, going back into hiding or passing a few minutes without a kiss felt suffocating. By the time he’d drank his fill, his shoulder was almost healed and Crowley was dancing around him with that signature serpentine ease. Where there had been whispers in their love before, now there was laughter. The horrors of that night were soon obliterated from their skin, even if they still bayed at the windows. That bed was their sanctuary and Aziraphale was Crowley’s, body and soul.

Chapter Text

"I have some amazing news. The bassist in my band got kicked out of uni for robbing that 24-hour bakery on Bishop Road." Pepper said without looking up from her phone.
"Incredible." Anathema smiled, bouncing in her seat as she gazed at Aziraphale. He was tucked beneath Crowley's arm on the couch in his flat, Anathema on the other couch and pepper sitting in the windowsill. The windows were fogging over the sky went from a patchwork of greys to a glowing white.
"Your definition of amazing news is very different to mine." Aziraphale said.

He took a sip of his hot chocolate and glanced up at Crowley, wondering whether it was the ownership of a Y chromosome that caused such differing reinterpretation of bad news. He looked up when he felt Aziraphale's eyes on him, laying his notebook aside.
"Sorry angel, I wasn't listening, what's up?"
PATH Are looking for a new bassist." Pepper said.
"What the fuck did Helena do now? He asked, grinning.
"Tried to hold up the bakery for a chicken bake at 3am." Pepper supplied.
"Legend." Crowley sighed.

"Why is this a good thing?" Aziraphale asked, starting to feel left out.
"Because, silly thing, she's asking you to audition." Crowley said, ruffling his hair.
"Me? Play in front of your band?" Aziraphale asked in disbelief.
"Well ideally you'd pay in front of an audience. We've just been offered February's hole in the wall gig." Pepper said.
"I can't play at the Low Lives night!" He said, aghast.

"Why not? I do it." Crowley said. "it's fun."
"It could be Crowley I'm dragging off the stage this time." Anathema laughed.
“That's you! I'm different. I'm no good when people look at me! I have to leave the room when you proof read my poetry assignments!" He argued.

"Azi I've heard you practicing. You're good. We need someone good. Just think about it? I'll get the others around in a few days and we can try playing together?" Pepper suggested.
"I can try?" He said uncertainly, not wanting to disappoint all the people looking at him. "What kind of stuff so you play?" He asked, trying to redirect the conversation.
"You haven't heard them? They did a great set at the SU last week." Crowley said. Aziraphale didn't question when he'd had time to go to the bar considering he had spent almost every night squashed into the single bed beside him.
"Thanks, we usually do stuff made famous by indie or rock ladies." She smiled.
"I'll send you a YouTube link." He nodded gratefully and leaned back into Crowley's arm, distinctly less relaxed than he had been before. Crowley returned to his composition, tapping his foot with perfect accuracy as he sketched notes into being, hearing the whole piece in his mind.  Aziraphale watched him for a moment, melting at the way he stuck out the tip of his tongue when he was concentrating.

When the rest of the room stayed silent, he glanced around to see the girls giving each other meaningful looks and suppressing laughter. His cheeks warmed as he realised he'd been caught staring. He hurriedly took a sip of his coco for something to do.

***

"But Azi love, I don't understand why you won't just let Gabriel drive you home. I'm already giving him some petrol money, why pay for a train ticket when you could hop in the car?" His mother's voice usually soothed Aziraphale, but it was the third time she'd asked why he wouldn't be driving home for Christmas with his brother. The call had only lasted ten minutes, she was determined to untraveled the mystery. He couldn't deflect any more, she would get suspicious.

"Well he hasn't mentioned it. I don't know what his plans are." He said, hedging his bets. It had been a month since he has seen his brother, not counting that time he'd passed him outside Macdonald's on a night out and had Crowley drag him somewhere quiet to calm him down again. They'd exchanged only two messages after the events of that night.

I'm sorry -G

I know - A

Then radio silence.

He couldn't imagine driving five hours in a car with him, let alone a whole two weeks under the same roof. He loved Christmas, he always had, but this one was already shaping up to be a disaster.
"Well just because he's bringing his friend with him doesn't mean there won't be room for you. You're his priority, even if he is so keen for me to meet her." She clucked.

Until now, Crowley had been lounging in a practiced way, trying to convince Aziraphale he was totally at ease with the mention of his brother. His posture was entirety too stiff to feign real relaxation, he wasn't fooling anyone, but Aziraphale hadn't the heart to tell him. He gave up at the mention of Uriel, sitting up and listening in with interest. His eyebrows raised, it was the first reaction he had allowed himself on the topic of Gabriel in weeks. He was being surprisingly well behaved about it all.

"He's ... He's bringing Uriel home for Christmas?"Aziraphale asked, feeling something twist in his
stomach.
"Just for a few days, then he's dropping her off at home on Christmas Eve Eve, driving back up on Christmas Eve. It must be getting serious between them." She said, as though he should have told her about it sooner. His head swam with the made-up dates as he tried to put a timeline of the break together.
"Just say the 23rd of December mum." he sighed, scrubbing his face as he thought.

"He really didn't tell you any of this Azi?" She asked, tone dripping with concern.
"Not a word. He's good at keeping secrets." he said, more bitterness in his tone than he should have allowed.
"You two need to get your heads together, I've never known the pair of you to be so disorganized." She said. He could almost hear her frowning.
"Tell me about it." He muttered, closing his eyes. Gabriel was taking Uri home to meet their family. They must have gotten together in the month that had passed. There had been no hint of it in Aziraphale's excessive online stalking of the pair. He couldn't understand what Gabe could have said to convince her after everything that happened. Maybe she had a thing for saving people. Either way, Aziraphale had to admit he felt a little betrayed.

He opened his eyes when he felt Crowley lay a comforting weight on his knee. He found him starting up at him, head cradled on his lap. He sighed and stroked his hair absently.
"Are you alright love?" His mother asked. He knew he'd get caught out if he lied.
"Just tired." he said. It was more true than she would know. He was tired of hiding in his flat, tired of lying by omission every time he answered the phone, tired of the nightmares that had only gotten louder in the past month.

"You can talk to me you know Azi, about anything." She said. His eyes welled up unexpectedly. He had to blink quickly to calm them again, of course Crowley saw it all. Before he could bring himself to answer she said. "I don't know if I'd be much use if you wanted to talk about girl problems, but I could give it a shot if Gabe couldn't help." The hope in him fractured instantly.
"Girl problems." He repeated. Cowley's eyes narrowed in sympathy. He couldn't expect anything else when he had refused to tell her the truth, but logic rarely took the sting out of casual erasure.

The words tumbled from him before they could be stopped. "Actually mum I'd really like that... Talking to you about relationship stuff. I think it's exactly what I need." He said. There was silence on the line. His mother was so quiet that he could hear her TV in the background. She was watching EastEnders.
"Oh, okay love. We'll set some time aside, just us, like we used to." she promised, sounding concerned. She obviously had not in the least expected Aziraphale to be having any sort of relationship at all. That stung too.

"Okay mum. Love you." He said, cutting off the call as quickly as he could and dropping the phone like it had bitten him. Crowley was there immediately, pulling Aziraphale into his lap.
"I don't know you were going to do that." He said, searching his face.
"Me either." Aziraphale said.
"I'm so proud of you" he whispered.
"Why? It's not like I came out to her." He sighed, feeling as though he didn't deserve the look Crowley was giving him.
"But you put yourself in the position to. That's huge." He told him. Aziraphale thought about that and nodded, it felt reckless, so he'd take brave.

"I want her to know about me ... About you." He said. Crowley's smile faded at that.
"You don't have to use me to compete with your brother, Zira." he sighed, leaning back. His eyes had gone from tender to closed off in a moment, Aziraphale couldn’t comprehend what he’d done wrong.
"What? I'm not." He said sharply, confused by his sudden coldness.
"It's okay angel. You heard that Gabe was taking Uri home in some grand gesture and you didn't want to be outdone. I'm just saying don't let him push you to come out." he shrugged.

Aziraphale turned his face back towards his own, catching his eye. "You know what? I am jealous he gets to take her home. I'm jealous that they've been together a few minutes and she gets welcomed into my family with open arms. I love her, but that's the truth. I've been with you for months and I've had to keep you a secret and I've had to come out over and over and over again. I want to be treated like I would be if I was straight. I want this relationship to be seen at least as equal to theirs, because it's better than theirs." He said firmly. Crowley's smile crept back across his face.
"Okay angel, just checking." Crowley said, pulling him back against his chest to hide on of the rare blushed that made an appearance if Aziraphale complimented him for too long.

"I'll be telling my parents this weekend." Crowley said suddenly.
"No Crowley, you don't have to." He said quickly.
"I do. The moment your family know I'll be talking about you all over the internet. I'd rather tell them face to face." He said. The warm glow of imagining that little ‘is now in a relationship with’ post faded quickly.
"Face to Face. Are you going home this weekend?" he frowned.
"No they're coming here. Didn't I tell you?" he asked.
"No..." He said, starting to panic a little. He didn't know much about Crowley's family, but they sounded intimidating. Bee had used the word traditional.
"Don't worry, you won't have to meet them or anything. It'll take them a while to get to that stage." he shrugged.
"I would if you wanted me to." He told him.
"I know ... It's just that I don't like seeing them all that much when mum is so sick. I certainly don’t want you to see me with her when she’s like his, you’ll think less of me.” He said, eyes distant, like he was staring right through him at her.
“I never would.” He said gently.

“I can’t stand being around her. Is that awful? That I'm frightened that the next time she'll look sicker?" He asked. Aziraphale was taken aback by the question. This was the one topic Crowley avoided at all costs.
"It's only natural." He reassured him.
"If I cared that much I would have gone home more often." He said tightly.

"And done what? Hovered around reminding her that she wasn't well? That you were giving up uni to be there? I don't think any mother would want that." He said, trying to use his most soothing voice. Crowley so rarely got upset that he felt rather unprepared to help him. Considering how much Crowley calmed him down, it made him feel like he had been selfish.

"You're going to be such a good dad. So wise." Crowley said, his tone too offhand for the weight of the words. They paused Aziraphale in his tracks. He had never thought about being a dad. Even when he was little and he was the only boy willing to go along with games of mummy and daddy, it had felt wrong to picture himself with a wife and children. As he'd grown up, he'd realised it was the wife that he didn't want, but the idea of children had been forgotten somewhere along the way. Back before he realised adoption and surrogacy were options, he had resigned himself to the fact he could never have children and never revisited the idea. Crowley’s gentleness as he’d said it had made almost too sweet to compute.

"Sorry. I've freaked you out haven't I? Far too soon to talk about stuff like that." Crowley said gruffly. Aziraphale realised how telling his silence was when he saw Crowley blushing again. He probably thought he had put too much of himself out there, gone too fast again.

"l didn't say that." He murmured. "You want kids?" He asked, trying to formulate his thoughts.
"I mean, yeah. A few." he answered hesitantly. His sentences getting shorter was a sure-fire sign that Aziraphale wasn’t doing enough to soothe his anxiety. He forced his mind back to reality from the panicked static it had been and smiled. "It's not something I'd considered." He said honestly.

"Have you always wanted them?" Aziraphale asked.
"Do I historically strike you as the paternal type, angel?" He asked, eyebrow arched. Aziraphale should have expected him to shut down with sarcasm again. He gave him the smile that he’d learnt Crowley liked the best, the one that was just a little mischievous, and he pressed on, trying to get him to open up again.
"Well what changed?" He asked.
"You really are dumb, angel. I found someone I'd quite like to spend my life with. The thought of a few more of him in the world would make it seem quite a nice place." he said, looking down.
"Me?" He asked after a moment.
"Yes you, you dolt." He smiled.

Aziraphale felt a warmth surging through him as a whole future opened itself up in his mind. He had been more than happy living in the moment, enjoying every second of what they were, so much so, that he hadn't thought much beyond the next week. There had been his tender-hearted Crowley imaging a whole life with him. It was humbling to be so loved. He could see it all. Crowley only looked more handsome with age, teaching two blurry, child-shaped outlines how to pay guitar.

"Oh shit. Angel are you crying? I'm sorry. I didn't realise you hated kids so much. It's fine, we don't have to- we can get a dog-" Crowley said, horrified by Aziraphales eyes glazing over.
"I'm happy, you idiot." he whispered, adding himself in an armchair and a bloody great dog at his feet to the picture in his head. "Tell me more about it, the future." He said, greedy for all of the little details. He settled himself against Crowley as though he was waiting for a bedtime story.
"You're the writer, love. I'm sure you could come up with something better than me." He said, face redder than Aziraphale had ever seen it.
"Please? I want to know what you want" he asked.

Crowley shifted to put an arm around him as he thought. "I thought you'd have a bookshop ... You'd be writing between customers and getting really frustrated whenever they came in and interrupted your train of thought. God forbid they actually try to buy any of those books." He smiled.
"Will you be a musician?" Aziraphale asked, enthralled.
"Nah, probably an accountant or something." he teased.
"I would never marry an accountant!" Aziraphale laughed, sitting up. When Crowley didn't join in with his laughter, he reassessed his joke, realising what he'd said.

"Oh no, I didn't mean .. When I said marry that wasn't me ... We don't have to...I meant I wouldn't be with..." He buried his face in his hands. A moment letter he felt Crowley slowly trying to pry them from his face.
"Don't be embarrassed, love." He said.
"Can’t be embarrassed of I jump out of the window." he muttered. When Crowley coaxed him to stop hiding, he was looking at him in the tenderest way possible. "Hey, maybe I've thought about that too." he admitted.
"Yeah?" Aziraphale asked, a little less mortified.
"Well we can hardly raise our babies out of wedlock." He said, tone aghast.
"Oh I'm sure there will be bigger complaints than our marital status." Aziraphale smiled again.
"Like your fashion sense ... It never gets any better." Crowley said in faux-torment, eyes distant as he tried to read the future. "Those poor little souls waddling around in sweater vests." He sighed. Aziraphale swatted him, laughing at the mental image. Crowley didn't take it back, just pulling him down into a kiss as an apology.

***

“He’s good, but will he be able to get the vibe on stage?” Amelia asked, looking over Aziraphale doubtfully as she sat packed onto Pepper’s bed with her bandmates.
“He has the vibe.” Crowley said, rolling his eyes. He was sitting backwards on Pepper’s desk chair behind where Aziraphale stood awkwardly with his bass.
“He’s wearing his top button done up. It’ll be like playing with Winnie the pooh.” Megan agreed, looking at Pepper like she was mad for suggesting him.

Crowley sighed and unwound himself from the chair, crossing the room to Aziraphale. “Do one of the bastardy ones we’ve been practicing.” He told him.
“I can barely pull those off when it’s just us.” He hissed, glancing meaningfully at the girls watching them with disinterest.
“You absolutely pull them off.” He smirked and Aziraphale realised that was exactly why Crowley barely ever let him finish a song.
“Which one?” He asked uncertainly.
“Something from this century, angel.” He smiled. “Pretend it’s just me.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, letting his hand pull out the first few notes, imagining the pair of them alone in that music room. “White shirt now red, my bloody nose..” He started, opening his eyes to peek at Crowley. He was smiling. He let himself unwind a little more, moving more as he played. By the time he reached the chorus he was actually enjoying himself. “So you're a tough guy, Like it really rough guy, Just can't get enough guy?” He smirked at Crowley and he laughed, looking like Aziraphale was doing exactly what he wanted. “I'm that bad type, Make your mama sad type, Make your girlfriend mad tight, Might seduce your dad type.” He winked.
“You’ve made your point.” Megan smiled, looking surprised but pleased. Apparently not so much Winnie the pooh after all.
“You can get him to do that on stage?” Amelia asked.
“He’ll be ready, just get me a set list.” Crowley assured them.
“Welcome aboard.” Amelia smiled

***

Aziraphale couldn’t stop fretting. Crowley had left to meet his parents first thing in the morning and afternoon was quickly becoming evening. He hadn’t heard a peep all day. He knew it should have been reassuring, that they were having so much fun that he had forgotten o send a text. Somehow Aziraphale doubted it. He tried to settle to his reading, but Frankenstein’s monster twisted illusively in his mind.

He heard the front door slam and he paused in the  act of turning a page. Downstairs he heard some muted voices. He Could make out Bee using a softly persuasive tone. It was met with Crowley answering curtly and steps on the stairs. He laid his book aside, bracing himself for Crowley’s supressed anger. He knew it wouldn’t be aimed at him, it never had been, but he hated to see him like that all the same.

Crowley’s door shot open and he halted in the doorway. “You’re still here?” He asked, jaw working quickly.
“Oh. I didn’t think you wanted me to go. I was oing to order us pizza.” He said, feeling foolish. Of course Crowley would have told him to stay if he wanted them here. He slid off the bed quickly and reached for his coat.
“No…” Crowley said quietly. Aziraphale glanced up, watching him worry his bottom lip with his teeth.
“Crowley?” He asked gently, moving closer. Something in Crowley’s face was crumpling, caving in. His eyes shone as he swallowed. It struck Aziraphale like a bus. Crowley was fighting tears. He had never seen him cry, he had never even seen a hint of this kind of hurt in him before.

“Oh love, what happened?” He asked, skating his hands down his arms to take his hands. Crowley hesitated, looking as though if he were deciding to rebuff him or let him see him be truly vulnerable. His last shred of restraint cracked and he melted down against him. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him suddenly, feeling him nuzzle down into his shoulder. He didn’t fully understand how bad it was until he felt his take a stuttering breath.

“It’s okay, come on.” He murmured, leading him back to his bed. He took his coat and shoes off him and pulled him into the middle of the bed. Crowley let himself be rearranged, lying limply and only stirring when Aziraphale pulled him to his chest. He just held him quietly, letting him get it out f system. He slowly rubbed his skinny back, feeling every sniffle and stifled sob that left him. He peppered kisses over his hair and forehead, slowly coaxing him to stop hiding his face so he could lay kisses over his temples and cheekbones, his jaw and finally his lips.

Slowly he came back to life in his arms, but him omnipresent walls weren’t rebuilding. He looked so childlike, so frightened that Aziraphale’s chest ached. “It didn’t go well?” He asked softly, a long while after the tears subsided. Crowley cleared his throat, it took him a few tries to find some words.
“It was fine. I mean they knew I’d find someone eventually. I’ve been out to them for yesrs. They have never nbeen thrilled about it, but they can deal with it now.” He murmured, watching his own fingers trace over the cable knit of Aziraphale’s jumper.

“She’s started chemo … I didn’t even know.” It was a punch to the stomach as Aziraphale understood. He tried to imagine seeing his own mother wilting in front of him.
“How far in?” He whispered.
“she shaved her hair before it could fall out. She’s had three treatments. She was wearing this horrible bloody hat.” He hiccuped. “Honestly you would have thought she’d enlist the gay son to find her something better than a tea cozy.” He muttered, trying to use sarcasm to mask his pain.
“You’re allowed to be upset.” He said quietly “it’s so much to take in when it’s actually in front of you.” He whispered. Crowley sat up.
“You’ve lost people to this?” He asked. Aziraphale hesitated and nodded.
“My grandma.” He said “But she was already so old when she was diagnosed. She didn’t get offered any treatment.” He said. “It’s a really good thing they’re giving it to your mum. He whispered.

Crowley nodded and curled up against his side, deep in thought. He stroked his hair tenderly, letting him relax at his own pace. “read to me for a while angel? Nothing gloomy.” He requested. Aziraphale reached for the pile of books that he had migrated to Crowley’s searching for anything that wasn’t overtly upsetting. He settled on a short story collection that held some little tales all set in space, but that he always found soothed him with their lyricism bordering on fairy tales. Crowley sank gratefully into the gentle rhythm. If Aziraphale saw him crying again he didn’t point it out, happy to be the background noise distratcting him from his pain. He eventually fell into a doze like that, tucked under Aziraphale’s arm. He wished he could do more for him, take the pain on himself but it was impossible. All he could do was watch and react, always be ready to catch him when he fell.

***

“Angel, light of my life.” Crowley said tentatively. Aziraphale nodded, not looking up from his list of timings. He had scribbled cooking times and a list of dirctions with military precision on the back of a take away leaflet. The steam from the bubbling pans had it curling at the edges and his hair standing in even higher curls than usual over his pink face. He could feel the panic threatening to overwhelm him, only the rapidly unhelpful timings keeping him afloat.
“Hm?” he said when Crowley hesitated.
“Well we’re all going for a snowball fight. Come play?” He asked, putting his hands on Aziraphale’s hips and pressing up behind him, his chin resting on his shoulder. He had never had to work this hard to persuade Aziraphale to do anything.

“Can’t, I need to watch the food.” He said, leaning away to stir a simmering pot of sprouts. Why he had suggested the party was beyond him, cooking for all their friends was proving to be his undoing.
“This is supposed to be fIu, love. I’m worried you’re taking it a bit too seriously.” Crowley admitted tentatively. Aziraphale cooking for twelve people had started to become like walking on egg shells. He twisted to face him, eyes bright with disbelief. He could see in Crowley’s face he’d regretted saying it instantly. The kitchen of Crowley’s house was suddenly a very likely murder scene.
“Do you understand how much I have to do Crowley? There’s no way I can get it all done by lunch time, all my timings are wrong, I’ve made a mistake.” He snapped.

Crowley didn’t flinch, he didn’t snap back. He just gently removed the still steaming spoon from Aziraphale's hand and laid it aside. He took each of his hands in his own and raised them to his lips gently. Aziraphale focused on the action and instantly felt ridiculous for lashing out. “Sorry. It’s not your fault I’ve ruined it.” He muttered.

“Look at everything, Zira.” He told him. He complied, glancing at the pillars of steam rising from the hob. “What’s ruined? Nobody is expecting it bang on lunch time. We can warm up anything that goes a bit cold and honestly they’re just going to swamp it all in gravy and cranberry sauce anyway.” He soothed.

“I just want it to be perfect.” He said, mortified that he felt so close to tears. “This is the last day
we’re all together. I want us to have our Christmas.”
“And it will be perfect, you know why?” He said softly. Aziraphale shrugged. “Because of how much you care. Do you think anyone else would have done this for everyone?” He paused until Aziraphale shook his head. “It will be amazing. When do you think the last time anyone ate a proper meal was? We're students.” He grinned. Aziraphale felt a slow smile forming on his lips.

“So what do I do?” He asked, finding himself being wound further into Crowley’s arms.
“You let me take this.” He said, plucking the timing cheat sheet from his fist. He instantly felt his heart rate triple but held his tongue. “You turn down those bloody sprouts that only Harry is going to touch, you give me a kiss and you come outside so I can devastate you in the snowball fight.” He grinned. Aziraphale leaned up to kiss him but at the last moment twisted to whisper in his ear.
“The only problem with that is, I’d destroy you in a snowball fight. Crowley laughed and danced away from him, hopping lithely around the kitchen.
“You’d have to catch me first, angel.” He teased, darting over to turn the hob off and darting away again. Aziraphale tore off his apron and took off after him, squirming into as many layers as he could, frowning when Crowley only threw on a light windbreaker and darted for the door.

The others were all out there, drawing up the territories and taunting each other over a growing pile of ammunition. The slaughter was ruthless. Friendships meant nothing on the battleground, with Adam sniping anyone who moved. Teams dissolved and alliances grew up and were betrayed, the match only ending when Crowley crept up on Aziraphale and dragged him into a snow pile and they were eventually caught snogging with no sign of getting up again soon and, as one, the group turned on them, pelting them with snowballs until they were staggering back to the house, pink faced from the cold and grinning.

Aziraphale all but dragged Crowley into the kitchen, the warmth almost too much after the cold. He grinned as he watched the snow melting in his hair, making him a coco to warm him up. “It’s too sugary Aziraphale.” He whined, but he took it all the same, he hopped up onto the counter and sipped it slowly. Damon’s head popped around the door with a hopeful expression “is there hot chocolate on the go?” He asked. Crowley pulled Aziraphale possessively into his arms.
“Piss off he’s got enough to do without you sniffing about.” He pouted. Aziraphale just laughed and shrugged him off. Anathema popped up in the doorway behind him.
“But you don’t have your coco kit here.” She frowned.
“A coco kit?” He asked. Aziraphale pulled open a cupboard to reveal a worrying collection of flavoured hot chocolates and toppings.
“Wait ... this is better than your one at home!” She said, outraged.
“How do you think I tempt him over here?” Crowley smirked.
“We all know why he’s here.” Damon rolled his eyes. “The coco is just a bonus.”

“Go take everyone’s orders and I’ll make some.” He smiled, pulling everything out of the cupboard. “I thought I was special.” Crowley sighed.
“Well no one else is getting a kiss.” He smiled, glancing up at him when he didn’t say anything.  “What?” He asked.
“Have I mentioned I love you?” He asked, pulling him closer again.
“Only once or twice.” He teased.

“You seem so much happier now.” He breathed, brushing his snow damped hair away from his face.
“Well I’ve got a lot to be happy about. I’ve got all those friends out there, I’ve got a hot boyfriend, I’m not failing out of my course ... the world is great.” He said softly. There were some glaring omissions from that list, but it wasn’t a lie that in that moment he was blissfully happy. Crowley grinned at that.

“What am I going to do for a fortnight without you angel?” He sighed.
“You had nineteen years without me, I’m sure you’ll cope.” He smiled, though he was filled with a similar panic at the thought of not being around him. He pulled away when they came in with the coco orders and set to work.

It was almost three in the afternoon by the time dinner was ready. Bee was breaking open the drinks cabinet and Newt was making rounds of the table with a bottle of avocaat and sprite making snowballs for anyone who would take them. They all cheered as the turkey was set in the middle of the table, surrounded by every sundry and side Imaginable, Aziraphale couldn’t quite believe he had really done it. The tables and chairs themselves were a mismatch of desks and dining tables, spinning chairs, stools, and boxes. Not one of the table cloths matched, but it was perfect. He sat back and watched them all as they loaded up their plates and laughed.

With a flourish, Adam produces a box of Christmas crackers and started throwing them along the table. Anathema, disgusted by the snowball, wasn’t looking too impressed by the tube in her hand. She was not finding English Christmas in line with her sensibilities. She almost jumped out of her chair as the tiny pops sounded along the table, her eyes widening as she pulled out a pale crown of periwinkle blue and Newt slipped it atop her head. All along the table, people were crowning themselves, all except for Bee. "Oh, go on spoil sport." Crowley grinned. Bee raised their eyebrows and raised the still folded tissue paper.it was a shockingly bright pink.
"Not my colour." They drawled.
"It's mine." Aziraphale said. He got to his feet and plucked his green crown from his head. "I hereby proclaim you the monarch Bee, vanquisher of gender constructs and tender of heart." He announced, lowering the crown onto their close cropped hair and pinching the pink one from them. He dropped back into his seat, leaning into the arm Crowley had leant along the back of it. He winked at Aziraphale proudly as Bee indulged in a quiet smile.

"What's this?" Anathema shed, pulling out a soup of paper.
"It's a joke, you read it." Harry said.
"What's yellow and dangerous?" She frowned as she read it to which the table answered as one.
"SHARK INFESTED CUSTARD." They all crowed through mouths of food, leaving Anathema looking a little shaken and like the punch line was lost on her. There was a flurry of complicated bartering as the little toys were traded and gifted along the table.

 When they all declared themselves full, the table was still piled high, with desert untouched in the fridge. Aziraphale want overly worried, he knew that everyone got a second wind for Christmas dinner. With the help of Damon and Brian, he pushed the tables against a wall and set up a buffet of nibbles and miniature Turkey sandwiches as well as cakes and biscuits. It turned out that the exact amount of time it takes a room of students to go from stuffed to peckish is exactly half of the Muppets Christmas carol, which was being performed with gusto by everyone assembled as it played on the TV.

The afternoon slipped into evening and little groupings emerged. Aziraphale was thrilled that they were a jumble of the them, his flatmates and Crowley’s friends. Wensleydale and Harry had turned on guitar hero, only drawn away when everyone insisted Crowley take the guitar and Aziraphale the bass for Killer Queen. Anathema had produced a pack of tarot cards and was reading for Bee while Adam made up his own interpretation of the cards for a less than enthusiastic Shadwell, which was much funnier. Brian and Damon were thoroughly losing a game of Cards Against Humanity to Pepper.

The drinks and the food gradually depleted and everyone feel into chatty little huddles. What they were doing for Christmas and family traditions were traded as a lonely bottle of apple sourz went from hand to hand. Aziraphale sat on the edge of it all, marvelling that so many people had come to enjoy a gathering he had invented, come simply because he had asked. They were all spending their last night in the city together, and they were spending it with him.

At last they all realised that they had a long day of travel ahead of them tomorrow and began to gather themselves to leave. There was a lot of commotion in the hall and the passing of gloves and scarves. Eventually they all trouped down the garden path to the road. The night sky was totally clear, having shed its heavy load of snow during the day. The moon glowed brightly, a halo behind Anathema as she paused in the doorway. There was no doubting she was a witch in that moment.

"You sure you can put up with Newt for two whole weeks?" Aziraphale asked. She laughed.
"I'll visit you if I get desperate." She teased.
"I would love that." He admitted. She hugged him tightly, holding on for much longer than usual.
"Be good." She whispered
"Never." He teased.
"Then be careful." She laughed, pulling back. She kissed Crowley on the cheek and moved with perfect ease down the icy path. Newt offered her his arm and she took it, though Aziraphale thought he would need the support more than her.

"How long do you think that will last?" Crowley asked, curling himself around Aziraphale to fight of the chill. They watched them until they all turned the corner out of sight.
"I think it'll work out for them." He smiled, gently closing the door.

When they passed back through the living room, Damon had passed out in the couch and Bee and Harry were using him as the basis for an increasingly outlandish game of buckaroo. "Where are you going?" Crowley smiled as Aziraphale made for the kitchen. He pointed at the washing up that was waiting and Crowley shook his head.
"I can clean all that tomorrow when everyone's gone. Right now, I'm going to bed and I want you there in five minutes." He smiled.
"Why?" He asked.
"Because you just threw your first party, and it was a hit. I think that deserves a celebration." He smiled. “Plus, tomorrow I’m losing you for a fortnight.” He smirked, eyebrows raised as Aziraphale caught on.

It really didn't surprise Aziraphale how obvious Crowley could be in front of his flatmates, but nobody batted an eye as Crowley smirked and made his way up the stairs. Aziraphale stared after him in a slightly tipsy stupor for a moment.

Eventually Bee came over and drunkenly pulled him into a hug. It took Aziraphale a moment to respond. He had never really seen Bee cuddle anyone before.
"I hope they weren't too tidy fur you." he murmured, thinking of his friends.
"They were really nice ... This wazz really nice. Thank you Azzziraphale. I don't think I've had this much fun in agezzzz." They said. "I think you should go or Crowley will be getting impatient." They said, blinking as they pulled away from him.
"Oh ... Okay." He smiled sheepishly.
"Azi?"
"Hmmm?"
"I was about to say you're too good for him, but I think you make him better." They frowned, trying to keep track of their thoughts.
"I think we both rather make the other better." He admitted.

"Oh, you soppy sod. Go get all that mush put off your system. I want one night where I don’t have to fall asleep listening to the Aziraphale and Crowley acrobatic spectacular." They assured, but there was no heat in their tone, just teasing. Still Aziraphale fled up the stairs, determined not to waste a moment of their last night this year together.

Chapter Text

 ~ December 22nd ~

Aziraphale had been home for a week when it finally tumbled from his lips. Gabe and Uri were out shopping. He was in his mother’s kitchen, the surfaces piled high with ingredients."I'm seeing someone." He said, staring down into the cake batter target than looking up at her.
"I thought you might be. What are they like?"
"They're ... It's a... He's a he." He muttered, feeling himself going bright pink.
"So what's he like?" She repeated, smiling when Aziraphale glanced up at her, confusion barely concealed.

"What my love? Did you think I would be mad?" She asked gently, leaving her dough to turn and face him. Her indulgent smile reached up through her cheeks, suffusing her gaze.
"Not that many great reactions so far, I guess I was prepared for the worst." He frowned.
"Not that it's any of my business, but how are you identifying?" She asked.
"Run of the mill gay." He smiled.
She nodded thoughtfully to herself. "Did you really expect anything else from me?" He said with a small smile.
"Oh, well to be honest love, I thought you were asexual." She admitted. He paused in surprise that she even knew what asexuality was.

"You thought I was ace?"he asked. She nodded. "You never really showed a preference either way, so I assumed there wasn't a preference at all." She said.
"Yeah well. It wasn't really safe to be out when I was little, after that... I guess it just became habit." He said, feeling himself treading around the truth of why he had hidden his interests so thoroughly "I'm sorry, I should have talked to you about it" she said softly.
"I hate that you've been letting this burden you. It's supposed to be a happy thing, and I was making you feel so anxious about it." She said thoughtfully.
"It wasn't you." He promised.

"So, are you going to tell me about this boy?" She smiled, starting to knead the dough again. Aziraphale turned back to his own baking and by the time his mother had asked all of her questions, they had filled the counters with pies and cakes and biscuits. At last she put her arm around him and wiped the flour from his face. "I understand what you're worried about Azi. He won't find out and if he did, we would manage it." She promised. He didn't doubt her for a moment.

 December 22 2019,                                                                                                                                                                                                                             21:47

Aziraphale Zachary is in a relationship with Anthony Crowley

Since September

Beneath those words lingering on his phone screen, a few pictures clustered together, some of the few they had allowed themselves to be tagged in. With a smile he deleted them and uploaded his own. He scrolled through his phone, resisting the urge just to post ones of Crowley alone and looking radiant. There was one of them dancing on Halloween, Crowley grinning at him like there was no one else in the world. One of him, Crowley and Anathema, a bonfire burning behind them, and one of Christmas, Aziraphale looking pink-faced from the heat of the kitchen, Crowley holding carrots up behind his head like bunny ears. He allowed himself a single picture of them kissing, and it was on the tamer end of the scale. They were both pink-cheeked and nosed from the cold, Aziraphale’s face half-hidden by the thick woolly hat as he pressed a kiss onto Crowley’s cheek, snow visible in his copper hair. In the background, Damon lurked with a grin, about to drop an armful of snowballs on their unsuspecting heads.

He smiled and pressed post. He closed his phone and flopped back onto the bed. That was it, he was out to the world and the world knew about Crowley. His phone rang in under a minute.

“Hi Anathema.” He smiled, staring up at the ceiling.
“I hope you’re ready for the absolute SPAM of creeper shots I’m about to tag you in.” She teased.
“Just keep it PG yeah? My mum will see them.” he grinned.
“You let your mum be your facebook friend?” She asked. He just laughed.
“Well, it’s not like I was creeping into your room while you were up to anything. I’ll message you the soppier ones though.” She conceded.

“When am I seeing you?” He asked.
“How about I come over for a few days around New Years? Unless you have plans.” She asked.
“Well my plan was to sit home alone and eat all the chocolates my auntie will give me and watch shit movies.” He said.
“Mmm, how shit?” She asked
“I don’t know, is twilight still on Netflix?” he smiled.
“Oh I am so in.” She smiled. “But you don’t have to be coy. Crowley already told me you own the box set.” She giggled.
“When?” He demanded, his outrage exaggerated.
“We’ve been texting.” she said.
“About me?” he asked, a little thrill going through him at how close the two of them were.”
"The world doesn't revolve around you, Aziraphale." She teased, but he was under no illusions.

Aziraphale’s phone chirped and a less than flattering photo of Crowley filled the screen. It was that horrific snapchat filter that made you look like a panda. It always made him grin when he saw it. “Speak of the devil … I’ll text you later about New Years?” He said.
“Sure. Have fun, lover boy.” She said, smirk audible. He rolled his eyes and cut her off, the video call opening up.

“Hey, angel.” Crowley hummed, the camera only picking up half of his face, glowing in the limited light of the street lamp out by his window. Aziraphale tried not to notice the fact he was shirtless. He always slept like that, after all.

“Thought you’d be asleep.” He said softly, knowing how much Crowley was working over the Christmas period and that almost every moment he wasn’t, he’d be napping.
“Well I was, but my phone got possessed with the number of notifications popping up.” He said, a slow smile forming. Aziraphale hoped he wouldn’t see his blush in the low light.
“I should have checked with you first, I’m sorry.” He said.

“What on earth are you sorry for?” He said, his face breaking into a beautiful smile. “This means that you’ve told your mum?”
“Yeah.” He whispered, a daring grin on his face.
“How did it go? Why didn’t you call me?” frowned.
“It was fine actually … really fine.” He risked a little smile

“What aren’t you telling me angel?” He asked, shifting so he could peer in at Aziraphale better.
“Oh, it’s nothing, more embarrassing than anything. She thought I was ace.” He huffed.
“Nothing wrong with that.” Crowley said quickly “Though we all know it’s about as far from the truth as you can get.” He smirked.
“Hush. I know it’s not a bad thing. For a while when I was fourteen or so I thought I might be.” He sighed.
“So what’s the problem?” Crowley asked, clearly struggling to find Aziraphale’s logic in his sleep muddled mind.
“I don’t know … everyone obviously just thinks I’m soft and innocent and useless. No-one can imagine me with you.” He sighed

There was silence on the line for a moment. “I thought you were over feeling this way angel. It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks happens between us. I love you exactly as you are. I know you’re brave and a little bit mean.” He teased softly. “I just wish you knew it too.”

The front door went and he flinched. He knew who it must be.

“I’ll go angel. I’m not sure this is how I want to meet your mum.” He said, quickly covering himself over with the duvet. He didn’t correct him, playing along.
“She isn’t going to be put off for long…” He warned, smiling as he all but vanished beneath the covers, grumbling. “Go back to bed love.” He soothed.
“Aziraphale?” The Crowley shaped blanket asked.
“Hm?” He smiled.
“Thank you, for posting it. I really liked it.” He said in a small voice, his face appearing again.
“Even the pictures?”
“’Specially the pictures, though Anathema is rivaling you.” He warned

“I’ll go look. Safe trip home tomorrow.” He said, suddenly feeling like it was something Paddington Bear would say.
“G’night, angel.” He smiled indulgently, his hand obscured the camera for a moment, and Aziraphale had the oddest feeling that Crowley had reached out to touch his face on the screen. He was gone before he could reply.

There was a gentle knock at his door. It took all his self-control not to jump out of his skin. "Come in." He called, standing up and bracing himself against his desk. The door opened slightly, revealing a sliver of Uriel, not Gabriel as he had expected. Even that glimpse of her showed the apprehension on her face.

She stepped in slowly and closed the door behind her. They observed each other in a timid silence for a moment. Uri took a deep breath and opened her mouth to say something, but closed out again quickly. He had really intended to be cold, to demand an explanation from her. He wanted to channel some of the strength he thought he had gained in the past month, but seeing her so at a loss was too much. Aziraphale couldn't bare it. He crossed the room in a few short strides and wrapped his arms around her. She squeezed him so tightly in turn that he didn't know if his breathing would ever be the same.

"Oh god." She pulled away suddenly "Your arm."
"Healed." He assured her.
"How bad was it?" She asked, laying a gentle hand on the arm.
"It's healed." He repeated firmly, not wanting to upset her. She made an effort to keep her face in the same expression as she asked her next question.
"And Crowley?" He could see it cost her, but she asked anyway, so he'd know she supported him, that nothing had changed between them.
"He's fine, thank you." He smiled.

They moved to sit on his bed, the elephant in the room only growing. "You've every right to be mad at me Azi."she sighed suddenly.
"I do?" He asked, wanting to hear her say it.
"I could have done something to help you that night, I should have been in touch afterwards, at least. I certainly should have warned you that we were ..." she made a brief gesture to the hallway.
“Together?" He prompted.
"Something like that." She nodded.

"I'm not mad about any of that.” He said after a moment of consideration. “I just want to understand how you could start seeing him after that? Surely that should have been the end of it. Are you frightened to leave him?" He asked.
"Oh god no, Azi." She said, horrified at the suggestion.
"Then I'm going to need an explanation Uri." He said, tucking his knees up to his chest.

"I've never seen a person in such a state as that night. I saw the worst of him, but I saw how upset he was about it too. He told me everything your father had ever done, told me about his therapy and his meds.” She sighed “He was so open about everything with Bee. He really put his faith in me. I know it won’t sound like enough to you Azi, but I love him, I have since first year... Surely you know what it's like Azi, when someone makes you a promise like that."

 He thought of the promise Crowley had given him that night. It wasn’t so different really, settle down and try to be good. "Of course I do.” He mumbled eventually. It was all well and good, but no promise had come to him from his brother. He thought for a moment longer. “He's my brother. I love him and I can't look at him." He gave a sad laugh.

"He’ll never do it again." She said with absolute confidence that pulled at his heart.
"He used to tell me he wouldn't let anyone hurt me. Then he promised he would never hurt me. Now he promises not to do it again ... I really want to believe him but it's hard. It's not even him hurting me that I'm scared of."
“Then what is it?" She frowned.

"Gabe was always so much better than me, and even he slipped into being like dad. What chance do I have of avoiding it? I couldn’t even stop myself going after a boy you all told me was bad news. I could hurt Crowley, or Anathema or mum. Every night I have nightmares where I'm hurting them, killing them. I can't trust myself anymore. When i look at Gabriel I remember what I might be." He said quietly.

She didn't try to tell him it would be okay, or that Gabe wasn’t their father, she just wound her arms around him. They stayed like that for some time, just thinking their own thoughts.
"I started at your messenger picture for so long trying to decide if I should message you." She said eventually.
"Me too." He admitted sheepishly
"I just didn't know what to say."

"I went by your flat a few times" She said, by which he inferred that Gabriel had been too. He knew as much. Anathema had been fierce in blocking his entry.
"Yeah. You weren't in. I'm not going to ask where you were, it's pretty obvious." She shrugged, her hurt clear.
"I won't apologise for it. They've been kind to me, they were there for me. Harry pretty much put me back together. Damon is a good laugh..." He trailed off, not wanting to bring up Bee, despite how tentatively close they had gotten in the past month.

"Bee and I were really good friends once.” She sighed “But I was so jealous of them, and it showed.”
“Jealous?” He frowned, unable to imagine it.
“I mean they had Gabriel, good friends, they went out and did all the fun stuff I wished I was brave enough to do." She explained. "I’d hate it if they got you too, if they replaced me." She whispered. Aziraphale softened a little at that.
"I care about you in such different ways. You're both kind to me and you both have a past with Gabe, but that's where the similarity ends." He promised her.

***

 ~ December 23rd ~

Dinner was a tense affair. Aziraphale was sitting at the far end of the table from his brother, mostly just pushing food around his plate. If he did it long enough, he might be able to make it look like some had been eaten.

“How are your other flatmates then, love?” Their mum asked brightly, jarring Aziraphale out of his blank staring.
“Oh erm, good. We’re all that busy that I’ve not really seen them much. Sandy is off skiing with his dad at the minute. Matty pretty much keeps to himself anyway.” He shrugged.
“What about that Michael? He’s always up to no good” She prompted, hoping for a little scandal.
“He’s moving out actually.” Uri said when Gabe floundered.

“Whatever for?” She frowned.
“Up to no good. It’s caught up to him for once.” Gabriel said quietly, eyes trained on the forkful of food he pooped into his mouth so he wouldn’t need to elaborate.
“You fell out?” Aziraphale asked meaningfully. Gabriel nearly choked at the surprise of Aziraphale actually addressing him.
“Er yeah.” He managed eventually “in a manner of speaking.” He said. Uri looked away at this, hands twisting nervously under the table. He could guess exactly what kind of falling out they’d had.

“Why?” He asked, feeling reckless as he speared a carrot and munched on it innocently.
“There’s some things you just can’t stand for, once you know. No matter how good of a friend you thought someone was.” He shrugged. From the brief glance they shared, Aziraphale could hear the real reason.

“Well, that’s a shame.” Their mum said uncertainly.
“Not really.” Gabriel shrugged. Aziraphale wanted to push it, to find out what had happened. Part of him wanted Gabriel to have left him in twice the state he had put Crowley in, the other was horrified at the the thought. Surely Uri wouldn’t be here if she’d witnessed Gabriel commit two beatings in one night. Either way, Gabriel came out higher in his estimation than he had been. If he put Michael in his place it would be a relief to Aziraphale, he had to admit it, but if he;d kicked him out peacefully, then it showed growth. He sighed thoughtfully. If Michael ever tried anything again, Aziraphale knew it would be Crowley who would intervene, but he wished he could look after himself, that he didn’t just have to be the damsel in need of saving by one or the other of them.

He gave his brother a tentative smile along the table, seeing Uri beam at him from the corner of his eye. They weren’t there yet. Aziraphale didn’t know if it could be how it was before, but he thought they were making a start.

***

 ~ December 31st ~

Anathema was lying on Aziraphales bed, delicately showering empty sweet wrappers over his head in a rainbow of colour. Twilight was long since over and they were ploughing through Breaking dawn as midnight crept closer.

Aziraphale glanced around as his phone chimed. He found it under "I've got a text from an unknown number." He frowned.
"It's probably a prank, loads of people on my course have had them recently, they traced it back to a whatsapp group chat." Anathema shrugged. He was going to delete it unread, anyone who wanted his attention could use their name, but then two more notifications rolled in, each containing a picture file. Agatha leaned over and frowned back at him. "Delete it, it'll be trying to give you a virus."

He opened the thread instead, curiosity greater than his common sense.

I thought this might interest you - a friend.

The two photos took an age to download. When he finally opened one it was just a badly lit, grainy shot from a club. "Is this some kind of advertising thing?" he asked, scanning the picture for a logo or banner. He recognised the club as the one on Bishop Road. He thought it was called Salvation. He had only been once and he’d gotten too drunk to remember much of it.

His heart stopped in his chest when he spotted someone he recognised. "What's up?" she asked, following his eyeline. "Oh shit. It can't be." she whispered. Crowley was standing at an awkward angle, but his thin frame and bright hair were only mildly disguised by the poor lighting.

What held Aziraphale transfixed was the boy he was pushing up against the wall. In the first picture he was kissing him, hands fisted in his shirt. In the second, his head was turned further away, dipping down to kiss his neck, his sunglasses pushed back on top of his hair.

Robotically Aziraphale dropped his phone, unable to reconcile the images with all the things Crowley had whispered to him, had promised every time Aziraphale’s insecurities had gotten the better of him.

“Aziraphale?” Anathema had for arms round him, shaking him slightly. “It’s not what it looks like. It can’t be.” She promised him.” He wouldn’t, He could never ...” There was a creak in the hallway, someone hesitating beyond the door. Aziraphale felt like he was being torn apart by the sound.
“I should have expected it.” He whispered, curling in on himself.

Gabriel pushed the door open, eyes widening as he saw the two of them on the floor.

“What’s happened, Azi? What’s wrong?” He demanded. Anathema glared at him, but Aziraphale just held the phone out towards him. He took it and flicked between the two images, face growing cold. “Congratulations. You were right.” Aziraphale whispered. He waited for Gabriel’s cold indifference, his ‘told you so’. He had warned him this would happen, he’d told him not to come crying to him, but here they were.

Gabriel pulled him into a hug that felt like it would crush him. Then he started to cry. He buried his face in his brother’s jumper, letting the sobs wrack him. He could tell Gabriel didn’t know how to respond, but he stayed. It was enough.

“I’m so sorry Azi, I’m so sorry.” He just murmured it over and over again. Whether he was apologising for hurting him, for not convincing Aziraphale that Crowley was bad news, or just because he was in pain, Aziraphale didn’t know.

Aziraphale clung to him, feeling Anathema’s hands on his back as she desperately tried to reassure him. At some point in the evening, after he had stopped crying, his brother had eased him over to Anathema. He didn't remember him leaving. He could hear him in the hall on the phone to someone, probably Uriel. He didn’t want to hear, but he didn’t have the conviction to move.

“I think I need to call Bee…. No, I don’t really want to. One of them will know what’s going on though. Do you think Damon would pick up if I called him?” His brother sighed, pacing the hallway. “I just don’t understand … something feels wrong about this. No, I’m not going to drive up there. If it isn’t true he can drag himself down here to prove it…. I’m going to keep my promises Uri. It’s more important that I’m here for him than hunting the little snake down. … yeah … He’s in a bad way… No, no. I don’t think it would help… If I’d told everyone about what happened we might have avoided all this …”

Aziraphale was pulled away from the one-sided phone call when his own phone illuminated. “Leave it.” Anathema whispered, face stricken. It was him, of course it was. By the time he’d focused enough to make a decision, the call rang out.

*Missed call 23:49*
Angel?
I know you’re only watching twilight, answer meeee
Angel it’s nearly midnight, It’s bad enough you aren’t here
I want to talk to you for the new year
Aziraphalllleeeeeee

He flinched as Anathema’s phone rang. She looked at him uncertainly. He nodded and pushed himself up to a sitting position.
“Crowley?” She said, tone devoid of emotion as she answered him.
“Are you with Zira? I can’t reach him.” He shouted. There was tinny music blasting around him. It muted suddenly, like he’d stepped outside. Aziraphale could almost see the boy in the phoo lingering just beyond the door.

“He can hear you.” She said.
“Great, put him on, will you?”
“He can hear you.” She repeated coldly.
“Errr, is everything all right?” He asked uncertainly.

Aziraphale screwed his eyes shut, trying to even his breathing. The sound of his voice made him feel so much safer, but the thought of him whispering to someone else in that club made his skin crawl. He wrapped his arms around himself.

Gabriel came back into the room, phone in hand. “Don’t worry Azi. We’re going to get to the bottom of this, okay? Uri is onto it. You’ll be okay.” He said, frowning as he zeroed in on the phone they were huddled over.

“Is … is that Gabriel?” Crowley asked “Angel what’s wrong? What’s happened? Talk to me!” Crowley said, sounding frightened by the time he’d finished. He couldn’t help it, another sob broke through his silent resolve. “Crowley… what have you done?” He whispered.

There was incomprehensible babbling for a moment before Crowley pulled himself together.
“Angel you’re scaring me. If you can’t tell me what’s wrong I’m getting on the train and coming to you.”

“No … Can’t see him.” Aziraphale muttered, eyes beseeching up at his brother. Gabriel knelt in front of him and glanced to Anathema. Apparently, they’d had some frosty run ins after bon fire night. She looked torn about letting him in but conceded. If anyone had more right to speak for Aziraphale it was his brother. She held the phone out to him.

“This is Gabe.” He said quietly, using a supreme effort of will to stay calm.
“What’s going on? Is it his- your dad? He asked quickly. “Is he hurt Gabriel?” He demanded.
“Not physically. He’s upset, more upset than I’ve ever seen him. I don’t think he’ll talk to you even if you barge your way in here.” He said. Aziraphale’s face crumpled, which he took for conformation. “After what you’ve done … what he thinks you’ve done … I can’t say I blame him.”

“What are you on about? I’ve been at work … Did I miss a call or something?” He asked.
“I saw it.” Aziraphale whispered.
“What, love?”
“Who was he? Do I know him?” He asked
“Azi that won’t help.” Gabe sighed.

Aziraphale took the phone in his hands and disabled the speaker.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about angel.” Crowley said.
“Don’t call me that.” He snapped. “I saw you Crowley. Who was he?” He demanded.
“An … Aziraphale I’m going to need to talk to Gabriel. I don’t understand what you’re asking.”
“What I’m asking is who are you cheating on me with?” He asked coldly, more strength in his voice than he felt he possessed. Crowley was utterly silent.

Gabriel took the phone back and put the speaker back on. “Whatever half-baked story your brother has fed to you is going to be his last.” Crowley snarled down the phone. “I expect it from him Zira, but tha you’d just believe him-“
“This isn’t from me. He has photos.” Gabriel said sharply.
“Ph-Photos? Of what?” He demanded.
“Of you having a very nice evening.” He said shortly, patience breaking.

“Put Anathema on. I can’t cope with you.” Crowley spat.
“I’m here.” She said.
“Nath… help me out here.” He said.
“I wish I could Crowley but … someone sent him two pictures of you … with someone.” She hissed.
“But … That’s not possible. Anathema I would NEVER! You know that.”
“I thought I did…” She murmured.
“Aziraphale I don’t know what’s going on but I promise you that nothing has happened. I love you. Let me come see you?” He begged. “I need to know you believe me.” He was panicking, it was clear.

“I can’t.” He whispered “I can’t see him.” He said, panic rising
“Shush Azi it’s okay, just breathe … just breathe.” Gabriel frowned, recognising the signs of the rising panic attack.
“I think you’ve done enough for one night Crowley. I told you he wouldn’t cope when you did this to him. I told you I would have to pick up the pieces.” He added tightly. Crowley was already arguing back, but Gabriel hung up the phone.

Even as his panic slipped into his bones, making them ache, all Aziraphale could picture was Crowley, alone and confused out on the snowy street as the new year rolled in.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale slept for the better part of two weeks, only reluctantly leaving his bed when his mother insisted he couldn’t miss any lectures. She put him on the train and Gabriel collected him from it hours later. Uriel was with him, but he didn’t say anything and she didn’t try to hug him. Any kind of comfort had been making him feel worse. The only person he wanted to hold him was the one who had left him like this.

He couldn’t reconcile the images with what he knew of Crowley. He had spent hours staring at them, feeling the ghost of the touches on his own skin. Eventually his eyes had drifted to the boy himself. He had stalked every connection Crowley had on his socials, every classmate, every tagged photo. He couldn’t find this boy anywhere. He had no idea who he was beyond his blissful expression. Jealousy curled in him with enough force to occasionally wake him from his stupor. He was the absolute opposite of Aziraphale in every way. He was handsome, classically so. He was stockier than Crowley, but it was all muscle. He was tall, dark haired and, from the way he was wrapped around Crowley in public, very confident. Someone who deserved someone like Crowley.

Aziraphale realised that Gabriel had been talking to him. “Sorry I didn’t catch that.” He mumbled. Gabe and Uri shared a look of concern, but he repeated himself.
“Anathema is waiting for you, but if you want to stay somewhere you won’t be bothered … You can stay with us. Mike’s room is empty.” Gabriel offered. Aziraphale was under no illusions who they expected to come looking for him.
“Don’t want to sleep in Mike’s room.” He said quickly, the thought of sleeping in anyone else’s bed somehow felt like he would be cheating. He knew how ridiculous it was, but even the thought of Mike’s advances made him uneasy.
“Of course not.” Uri said. “You could take Gabriel’s room and he’d go upstairs to Mike’s... or mine” She amended. Gabriel blushed fiercely, but nothing else was said on the matter. The last thing Aziraphale needed was to see the two of them in all their domestic bliss.
“I’ll think about it. I kind of just want to go back to mine.” He said. Gabriel nodded and the three of them got in the car, Aziraphale nestled in the back by the heating vent.

 The last of the snow was melting, turning into slushy mounds at the edge of the road. He tried not to glance out as the city centre moved by them. He didn’t think he’d see Crowley on the streets, but he was stitched into almost every one of Aziraphale’s memories here. Wherever he looked, he’d remember when they stood there waiting for a cab. Perched on that wall eating ice cream or hidden from the rain in that café. He knew the closer they got to home the worse it would get, so he closed his eyes and hunkered down for the short trip.

Anathema met him at the gate. Again, she knew better than to hug him, but he could see the compulsion to was almost overcoming her. He took his case from Gabriel and made his way into the flat without a word, Anathema buzzing around him to open doors. She hesitated as he went to let himself into his room. “I wanted to go in and sort it out for you … get rid of some stuff so you wouldn’t have to. You um, you left it locked though, I can do it now if you want?” She asked, eyes full of pity.

He sighed and shook his head. “I’m going to see him around at some point. If I can’t face a couple of his things then there’s no hope.” He muttered, pushing the door open. He half-wished he’d taken her up on the offer. He was everywhere. His T shirts were mixed in with Aziraphale’s clothes, photographs and cinema tickets littered the corkboard along with little hand-written notes that Aziraphale had forgotten about, all their words ringing hollow now.

“I’d like to be alone for a while, please.” He said. Not moving until the door closed behind him. He locked it and sat on the bed. He hadn’t changed the covers before he left for home. He could swear he could smell Crowley on them. He picked up his phone, scrolling through the endless messages Crowley had sent him over the past weeks, his tone morphing over time from confusion to anger to hurt. He moved through begging to bribing, desperate for any kind of response. Aziraphale had refused to give him one. Instead he opened up the anonymous text message and retyped, as he had a hundred times ‘Who are you?” This time he sent it.

He swallowed and set to work. All of his clothes, his spare toothbrush, all of the ridiculous things he put in his hair, Aziraphale put them all in a bag. The photographs and the notes were harder to sort through. He hesitated, holding them over his bin. Instead he pulled out a shoe box and tucked them beneath the tissue paper in it. It went deep beneath the bed. He changed his bedding, ignoring the heads popping out of doors along the corridor as he dragged the hoover and the mop to his room. He was going to irradiate every atom of Crowley from his space. It took him hours, but eventually he was satisfied. The room was pristine, the smell of bleach and cleansers so severe he was forced to open his window. He smiled as the bitter January wind whipped into the little room. It made him feel cleaner than he had in weeks.

He fell asleep quickly, despite it only being late afternoon.

He half-woke at a volley of knocking at the flat door. He sat up in confusion, glancing at the clock. It was one am, the sky was dark and clear through his open curtains and the streetlights across the canal were violently orange to his tired eyes. The noise came again.

He heard Anathema sighing as she stormed along to the door. He didn’t turn his light on, just slipped from his bed and padded over to his door. He looked through the spy hole, glad for the first time that he was directly opposite their front door. All he could see was the back of Anathema’s head, hair pulled up into a sloppy bun.

“You’ve got some nerve coming here.” She said coldly.
“Stop it Anathema.” Crowley snapped. The sound of his voice was more painful than Aziraphale expected. He had been listening to it on voicemails, made tinny by his phone’s speakers. He had already forgotten how sonorous that voice could be. He laid his hands against the door, leaning up to try and get a glimpse of him.
“He’s not back yet.” She lied. Aziraphale just about heard him scoff.
“Harry saw him at the station this afternoon. Saw that great pillock bundle him into a car.”
“Then I wonder it took you so long to get here.” She said coldly. What had Aziraphale done to deserve her friendship?
“Look, I was working. I just turned my phone back on.” He sighed.
“We’ve heard that one before.” She said.

“I didn’t do anything wrong Anathema! I just want to see him. If I could just talk to him … see these photos he thinks he has…”
“I’ve seen them. I’ve looked at them for hours Crowley, while his heart was breaking and there was nothing I could do to help him.” She seethed.
“It’s not me in those pictures.” He argued.
“Regardless, he’s not here. Maybe Gabriel took him back to his.” She suggested.

“I know he’s here, please stop it.” He said, suddenly sounding upset. Anathema sagged backwards a little.
“Did Harry trail the car?” She asked without much venom.
“His window is open. It wasn’t any of the other times …” Crowley said.
“That was me. I went in to clean for him. Get rid of your stuff.”
“You said he had locked it.” Crowley said, tone rising.

Then he was there, in front of the door. Aziraphale drew back sharply, the after image of him seared into his mind, like he’d stared at the sun too long. “Zira? Zira please talk to me.” He shouted. Aziraphale reluctantly looked back through the spy hole, seeing his eyes magnified as he peered in. He was wearing Aziraphale’s hoodie, it swamped his thin frame, though Aziraphale had the impression it was thinner than ever. He looked drawn, as though he hadn’t slept in the weeks that Aziraphale hadn’t ever really been awake. Along with the wild spark in his eye, he was a mess.

“Oi I dinae care what you have or haven’t done. If ye dinae shut up I’m calling security.” Shadwell shouted from up the hall. Crowley didn’t look away from the spy hole, desperately trying to make Aziraphale out in the shadow.
“Please?” He whispered. “Please just let me see you?” All Aziraphale wanted was to comply, to open the door and fall into him. He had expected to hate him, but everything that they had been was there as strong as ever, but there was the doubt, invading every part of him. That was what he hated.

Aziraphale drew away from the door, watching his feet cast long shadows as the light of the hall spilled under his door. “Not tonight. Go home Crowley.” He said, laying a hand against the wood again. He heard Crowley’s hand skating over the same spot, then footsteps and the front door closing.
“Azi?” Anathema said, hesitating.
“Not tonight.” He repeated.

***

He was living in some horrible memory, Aziraphale was sure of it. He was coming out of the double doors of the lecture theatre and Crowley was planted firmly in front of them, waiting for him. He had expected it. He had to face him eventually It would be better if he got it over with.

While his classmates streamed past him, he picked a carrier back out of his satchel and held it out to him.
“What’s this?” Crowley asked, obviously derailed from his original plan.
“Your stuff. Newt will come by for mine on Friday if you could have it ready. You can keep that though, if you want?” He said, eyeing the hoodie Crowley was still wearing from the previous night.

“Is … is that it then?” Crowley asked, his face contorted.
“You think I want to do this? You think I can bear to look at you and do this?” Aziraphale countered. “I just don’t see what other choice you’ve given me.” He said, holding the bag out again. Crowley took it, his fingers trailing against Aziraphale’s. “Just … don’t do that.” He begged, pulling his hand back quickly. He pulled his sleeves down to cover his hands, the touch still burning.

“I didn’t do it Zira.” He whispered, sounding close to tears “Deep down you know that I didn’t.”
“I have proof you did. Don’t lie to me anymore.” He said, closing his eyes tightly.
“Then it’s an old photo, from last year, or it’s someone else, or it’s fake.”
“I have tried every way to prove it wasn’t you, but it was taken on New Years Eve, it’s real.” He sighed “I spent hours trying to make the truth go away, days, but I can’t.”
“I was working that night Aziraphale.” He said, revisiting his texted arguments.
“In Salvo?” Aziraphale asked.
“Yeah.” He frowned.
“It’s not like you haven’t picked anyone up in your break before.” Aziraphale said sharply. They both remembered that first night, Crowley sneaking over in his break, kissing Aziraphale, beguiling him. He looked hurt by it, Aziraphale thought.

“I love you Zira. Please don’t do this. You know I’d never hurt you like that.” He said, begging in the empty corridor. Aziraphale wound his arms around himself uncertainly, wishing they were Crowley’s.
“Despite it all. I love you too. I can’t deny it, that’s why it hurts so much.” He murmured. Crowley took a step forward, pausing as Aziraphale flinched back. He gently took Aziraphale’s hands in both of his own.
“Then believe me, help me figure out who sent you those pictures, what they’d have to gain by splitting us up.” He murmured; voice as sweet as honey.
“I want to … You have to know how much I want to.” He answered.
“Then why not? It would be the easiest thing in the world, being us is easy.” He said.

“Because when I look at you, all I can see is him.” He whispered. He pulled away from him and passed him his phone, the pictures already on the screen. He stared at them in horror for a whole minute.
 “It’s not me. Zira it’s so obviously not me. I’ve never seen this guy in my life.” He said.
“I’m sorry. I can’t.” He said, taking the phone back and stepping back, trying to put some space between them before he gave in.

“I’m not giving up on you Aziraphale. I’m going to prove that isn’t me.”
“I wish you would .. give up that is. You don’t need to give me hope, make it harder for me to end this than it already is. I never thought you were cruel.” He wished he’d let Anathema come to get him after class like she’d suggested. He wanted to stay, to hold him and wipe the pain from his face, wipe the past few weeks from both of their memories. He hated that everything Crowley said made sense when he so badly wanted to believe him. Maybe there had been an ulterior motive in sending those pictures.

“What if I told you I needed time?” He asked, betraying himself.
“Would you mean it?” Crowley asked.
“I don’t know. It seems cruel of me to string you on when we both know that this is something I can’t cope with. If I wasn’t enough you could have just told me. I might have been able to live with it then … we could have had an arrangement.” He said, the words like rot in his mouth.

“Stop it Zira, stop doing that to yourself. I’ve never wanted anyone but you from the second I saw you in those silly little wings.” His voice broke and Aziraphale knew he had to go. He couldn’t look at him like this, he couldn’t think.

“It doesn’t matter, I won’t be here to remind you.” He muttered. He turned on his heel and started to walk away, but Crowley’s hand was on his arm, pushing him back to the wall.
“Zira, what the fuck does that mean?” He asked, fury in his eyes. Suddenly Aziraphale realised how it sounded.
“I wouldn’t do that to you, no matter how upset I was.” He said, quietly, feeling the invisible space between them coming alive. He did his best not to think of how close to his lips he was. “Gabriel is getting the paperwork ready; he thinks it’ll be easier for me if I transfer … fresh start somewhere new.” He admitted, letting himself look up into his eyes. They were treacherous waters.
“That bastard.” Crowley breathed.
“It’ll be better for both of us … not that you need the time to move on.” Aziraphale said, finally dropping his gaze.

Crowley dropped his arm like he’d been stung. “If I stay away, will you promise to stay?” He asked.
“I don’t know if that would be worse.” He admitted. Crowley screwed his face up at this, he must be hearing the war in Aziraphale, because he just sighed.
“I’m going now. Just please, please don’t leave. You can’t run away from your friends. There’s a life for you here Zira. If you won’t have me then I won’t get in the way of it.”

Crowley reached into his own bag and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, pushing it into Aziraphale's hands. He recognised it immediately. It was a score Crowley had been composing. It had been on his wall the very first time he'd been in Crowley's room. the notation was finished, but the caption stayed the same. Violin, for A. A for Aziraphale, he realised. He looked up, but Crowley was walking away. 

***

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Crowley’s head was in his hands, his elbows propped up against the bar of The Hole in the Wall. Aziraphale’s begging for him to wait rang in his ears. He wasn’t drunk enough to drown it out yet. He had been expecting someone to drag him from the abandoned bar, but it hadn’t been Gabriel. He twisted on his stool to look up at him. He was in one of those big grey coats that office wankers wear, looking thoroughly disgusted with the place.
“Yeah well, he liked it here.” Crowley shrugged.
“He did?” He asked, astonished.
“He’s headlining next month.” Crowley added, reaching over the bar to snatch up a bottle. He was going to need it if Gabriel insisted on lingering. He nodded to a flyer that was stuck to the bar beside him by several layers of drink. Gabriel slid into the stool beside him and studied it. “Valentine’s day special performance, introducing Azi on bass.” He snorted at the irony of it.
“He’s in a band? I didn’t even know he played.” He frowned.
“Yeah well ... there’s a lot you don’t know about him.” He said, swirling the liquid in his glass.

“What did he ever see in you? I can’t understand it. Was it only because I told him not to?” Gabriel asked, staring at the mess that Crowley knew he was. He laughed quietly.
“Who knows what he saw when he looked at me. God, the way his face lit up when he saw me, it was like I was a hero or something, the best person the world had to offer. I tried to tell him that’s not who I was but he wouldn’t have it.” He said, taking a deep drink to obliterate the memory of his face. It was harder than expected, suddenly he saw the resemblance between the brothers he had missed before. He despised it.
“So you let him believe?” He asked, sliding a glass towards him in askance. He didn’t point out that two of them drunk and together was a very bad idea, there was no-one here he needed to protect. He poured him a generous glass.

“Eventually it made me want to deserve it, it was a challenge. I was better too, when I was with him. The moment I saw him there were no drugs, I only drank when he drank, I had three cigarettes the whole time we were … I even went to class and did my homework, just because he was.” He muttered, draining his glass and pouring another. His tab was already astronomical, he’d just add the bottle.
“I know how that feels.” Gabriel said, staring into his glass instead of drinking it. Crowley snorted.
“I’m not giving you sympathy. You’ve got everything you want. You have a nice girlfriend, a loving brother. Perfect Gabe back on track to his Perfect Life.” He said, knowing how bitter it sounded. That was fine, he was bitter. Gabriel ignored it.

“So you were being good, what changed?” He asked. Crowley looked at him in disbelief. “I hurt him.” Gabriel surmised. “How bad was it really?”
“Dislocated shoulder. I mean it wasn’t fun. He would only go outside if we were going from my place to his. He agreed to one night out but you were there. He was a mess. That wasn’t what changed things though.” He said quietly.
“Then what was it?” Gabriel asked.
“You planted the seed of doubt.” Crowley shrugged.

“You couldn’t have hidden your past from him forever. He would have figured it out.” Gabriel said
“It wasn’t doubt in me. No, he already suspected what I was like. It’s fairly obvious after all. No, you made him doubt himself.” He said.
“In what way?” Gabriel asked.
“In every way. He was always self-conscious but he would barely let me look at him or touch him.” At this Gabriel winced but Crowley didn’t care to spare his blushes. If anything, he was tempted to see just much more explicit he would have to be to provoke him, but he couldn’t do it to Zira. “He started thinking he wasn’t good enough … Do you understand what it’s like when someone that good, that kind, says something like that to you? He even started to wonder if he had it in him to hurt people too. It was sickening how much he believed in you.” Crowley said, hand tightening on his glass for a moment before he calmed himself. It wouldn’t do him any good to smash it into Gabriel’s face. It wouldn’t bring his Zira back.
“He’s nothing like me.”  Gabriel said quickly.
“Don’t I know it. God, I thought I’d kill you if I saw you again. It was only too easy for him to believe that I’d cheated on him, that he deserved it. That hurts more than the accusation itself.” He said.

“He isn’t here and there isn’t much more I could hate you, so just tell me the truth. Did you do it?” Gabriel asked.
“You wouldn’t be here if you thought I’d done it. You know it makes no sense for me to even look at anyone else when I had him.” He said, the past tense burning in his throat.
“You’re right. I don’t think it makes sense. I saw the pictures though and I know you were there that night.” He shrugged.
“No shit, Sherlock. I was working, in Christmas uniform. Whoever that prick in the photo is, he’s not me.”

“Why do you care Gabe? You’ve won. He’s not with me and Bee won’t have anything to do with him. He’ll be back with you and Uri and Sandy and Matty and fucking Michael for pizza Saturday before you know it.” Crowley said, looking round at him again.
“I decided that I was going to be better. I was going to try and support him rather than controlling him, even if that meant putting up with you.”
“I’m honoured.” Crowley said drily.

“Shut up. If there’s anything that makes him happy, it’s you. If there’s anything that will stop him being such a mess it’s that photo being fake. As long as you’re looking out for him, we’re on the same side."

“As touching as that is Gabe, you’re a little late. I’ve been dumped for the first time ever.”
“How do you like it?” He asked.
“It’s shit.” He murmured. “though you can stop all the holier -than-thou crap. You’re being just as controlling as ever.”
“How?” He demanded, genuinely ruffled for the first time.
“Making him transfer?” He said, watching as Gabriel had the grace to look embarrassed.
“We both know he won’t cope somewhere new. He might not have either of close anymore but at least we can look after him here.”
“And he has his flatmate, no-one will get past her.” Gabriel added.
“Oh Anathema is a goddess. She’ll keep him right.” Crowley sighed. They sat in silence for a while, each stewing in his thoughts of watching Aziraphale from a distance as he drank.

Chapter Text

It was Valentine’s day and they had constructed the ultimate break up set list. In part because it suited their sound, and in part because Aziraphale broke down whenever they played anything mushy. Standing on the stage of The Hole in the Wall, even the anthems scribbled on a piece of paper by his feet felt far too romantic.

They were going to sound very at odds with the decorations in the room. Hearts covered every surface. A curtain of hearts hung over the door, a cupid photo booth prop had been put up in a corner, there was confetti everywhere. Last year he would have sighed and cooed over it all, probably thrown some into Crowley’s hair. He felt a soft smile spreading over his face at the fantasy and stopped it coldly. He’d learnt the hard way that pretending they were still together only made it worse when he saw him around uni. Crowley had been true to his word, Aziraphale had barely seen him since their meeting in the hallway. He had avoided their old haunts, practicing at home or at Pepper’s rather than the music rooms. He’d spent whole weekend’s at Gabriel’s just to stave off the loneliness. It felt like he’d ripped away the fun part of himself, leaving the part that could sit and stare out of a window for hours.

 He suddenly realised there was a room full of people in front of him. He hadn’t been all that good at living in the moment since he had kind-of ended things with Crowley. The scene of him walking away played on loop in his mind. The crumpled score had gone into the shoe box with his other memories. It was probably best he couldn’t read the music; it would only have haunted him.

 “You good Azi?” Amelia asked, refocusing his attention. He nodded as the room came back to life in front of him. The crowd was loud. They knew PATH’s reputation, even if they didn’t know what the name stood for (no-one did). They were all staring at the new bassist who looked distinctly on the verge of a breakdown. Aziraphale swallowed and tried not to look at the couples hanging off of one another. It was Valentine’s day, what did he expect? 

“Now we know some of you are here for a romantic night out.” Amelia said into her mic, bringing the rabble to attention. To Aziraphale’s relief, the boos outweighed the cheers. “But we’ve got an anti-Valentine’s playlist, because we’ve all been broken hearted.” She grinned wickedly. “We’re going to start with a song recommended by our new bassist, I’m sure you all know what happened to the last one.” She said, putting on her guitar whilst the crowd jeered and laughed.
“News travels fast.” Aziraphale dared to give them all a half smile. Pepper grinned back.
“Long live the northerners and their obsession with pasties.” She said. “You ready?” He answered by starting the song. He really hoped he was right about it; it was from a kid’s show but the music in it was always beautiful. He had made Crowley watch it with him once and Anathema loved i. He sought her out in the crowd and watched the recognition filter over her face. He knew he’d been right to keep it a surprise. Disobedient let him step outside himself, build a character of who a new Aziraphale could be. It let him be more than just heart broken, it let him be furious. He was only backing Amelia up this time around but he sang his part with a savage joy. “When I think about all the wasted time I spent, I wanna be … Disobedient.” He watched in awe, seeing people recognising it and singing along. He was tired of being numb. He connected with the lyrics. Being up there, all he wanted to do was tear the place down. The fear that he was here weighed on him, and he rebelled against it. All his anger, all his pain, he channelled it down into the music, hoping he was putting on a show for him if he was there. He wanted to be disobedient, to shed the identity he had built for himself. He wanted it to burn.

He could feel eyes on him, and not in the general way. It was specific, like they were looking into him. The crowd were eating it up, they were playing better than they ever had in rehearsal. The songs flew by him, each one receiving a huge cheer after the first few notes as the audience caught up to what was being played. Aziraphale had spent hours putting together the setlist and he knew the crowd would love the next one. Pepper nodded to him and he stepped up to the mic to do his first bit of audience participation. It terrified him, but he was committed now. “I picked the next song to thank these three for letting a boring boy get up on stage and play with them.” He smiled to Amelia.
“I never said boring.” She argued and he tilted his head in acknowledgement.
“No, I believe you said it would be like playing with Winnie the Pooh.” He said and the audience laughed. “Anyway, this one’s about them. It’s Just A Girl.” The audience erupted; the song was having somewhat of a renaissance since it had been in Captain Marvel. Aziraphale stepped to the far back of the stage, letting the crowd see more of the three girls, playing with everything they had. The power rolling off of them was unmeasurable.

His first solo was at the fast approaching. He had planned it when he was in an especially hurtful mood and he was starting to regret it, but it was time. “Hello again, friend of a friend, I knew you when our common goal was waiting for the world to end.” He sang. It was stupid of him to put it on the set. It was from Crowley’s favourite movie. It was the biggest fuck you he could think of. He had no doubt Crowley would be out there somewhere. This was his usual gig, his favourite bar, the place he’d taken him on their very first date. Crowley had gotten him playing properly, into the band, onto the stage. There was no way he would have stayed at home tonight. He was out there and he would be hearing every word, knowing it was for him.

Aziraphale let his bitterness seep into it. He might as well own it now. That was when he saw Bee hovering at the back of the room, their eyes on him. They looked so sad. In the back of his mind, Aziraphale wondered if he was proving them right, if he was hurting Crowley after all. If he was, then it was about to get a whole lot worse.

“Do we have to do the next one?” he asked as they switched themselves around, grabbing a quick drink and a breath of air.
“Yes! It’s only on there because you’re so good at it.” ** said, nudging him back across the stage with the nose of her guitar. This was the one song he’d been over-ruled on. He’d played it at one of their practices to see if he could, to see if it was too infected by the memory of Crowley. It had been. He had barely been able to finish it, but the girls had loved it so much they made him put it on the set list. He swallowed, glad he wasn’t taking the verses. He could just think about playing until the chorus.

With the first note he was back in that practice room, with it’s red foam walls. They had sang so many good songs together on that first day. He couldn’t hide from them all, not when they were his favourites. Los Ageless spoke exactly what he was feeling. There was a movement behind the bar that caught his eye just as he was starting. There he was, Crowley, hovering in the doorway to the kitchen. Whether it was the song choice that had drawn him out of hiding or just curiosity, Aziraphale would never know, but his timing was cruel. “How could anyone have you, how could anyone have you and lose you, how could anyone have you and lose you and not loose their mind too?” They were his only lyrics, repeated over and over, just like they bounced around his mind every day. It made him think of that day they were bundled up in his duvet, talking about the future. He’s always thought the word heartbreak was nice imagery, flowery, overly romantic, but he could feel it now. It was a dull ache throughout his chest. It made it hard to breathe. All he could think about wasn’t just the relationship he’d lost, it was a whole future, a whole life. It was him and Crowley at an altar, holding a baby, walking a fog, it was growing old beside someone you trusted with everything you had. Crowley had killed it all, broken all those beautiful promises he’d made. Aziraphale knew he was crying, but he couldn’t take his hands off the bass to wipe them away. He turned in to play towards Pepper, hoping it wasn’t obvious. As soon as she played her last beat she was on her feet, wiping them away and pressing her drink into his palm. He drained it in one. He didn’t know what it was but it burnt in exactly the right way. He wanted it all to stop, to just be numb.

The crowd was baying for blood, drinking up every bitter note they played, relating to every chord. Crowley was still looking at him, was that pity in his eyes? How dare he pity Aziraphale, after what he’d done. He knew the first half was rapidly approaching its close. He would make Crowley suffer with the next one like he had suffered. It was perfect, it was about cheating after all, and it was all his to sing. It took a southerner to do it justice.

Every word looked like it sliced into Crowley and Aziraphale took a savage joy in it, He really should have expected to be called out if he came to crash his gig. It wasn’t an accident that he was here. He had come to see him play, and he would play exactly what was on his mind. Crowley had always encouraged him to connect with his lyrics, had always told him he was a bit of a bastard and he believed him now. He was acting like it. This is what Crowley had made him.

 “But I know that you know that I'll never forget it, 'Cause I know the day, and the month, and the second, Down to the day, month, second, The boy that you slept with, Tell me, was it worth it?, When you and him got down, To the day, month, second, I won't forget it.” He vowed. That was as long as Crowley could take, the switched pronouns of the song making it all the clearer that it was for him. He slipped back into the kitchen, leaving Aziraphale to sing it after him, wanting him to hear every word. Bee followed him and Aziraphale could see their shadows gesturing through the doorway wildly. They were arguing.

The first half finished with him and he was glad. He needed another drink and some air. He had known Crowley would turn up, but it hadn’t made seeing him any easier. He took his drink up to the small terrace, taking the path furthest from the bar and kitchen to get there. He was glad so few people knew about his little terrace, he could hear them all filling up the roof terrace behind him, but he focused on the frigid air and his drink, staring out at the street below. He tried not to see the ghosts of himself and Crowley there, but the memory was so sweet that he indulged himself. He downed his drink, ready to depart as he heard someone coming up the stairs. The image of Crowley’s face dissipated, leaving him cold.

“There you are!” Michael smiled, lighting up a cigarette as he came onto the terrace. Aziraphale raised his eyebrows at him, amazed as ever at his ability to bounce back after every rejection. He was nothing if not determined. He held the cigarette out to him and Aziraphale was just pissed off enough to accept. He coughed on it, the smoke burning him differently to any cigarette he had ever tried. He realised a little late that it wasn’t tobacco. He passed it back.
“So you’re a rock star now.” Michael grinned wolfishly.
“Something like that.” Aziraphale said dryly, looking out over the rooftops as he tried to think up an excuse to leave.
“Where’s your little boyfriend? He must be so proud of you.” He asked, leaning against the low wall and staring onto the street below. Aziraphale swallowed.
“We broke up.” He said stiffly.

“Ohh nasty. What happened?” He asked. Aziraphale looked at him in disbelief, how could anyone be so insensitive?
“He got caught.” Aziraphale said, taking another deep drink.
“Bastard.” Michael said, though his tone was bored.
“Was only a matter of time I suppose.” He muttered, not knowing why it was Mike of all people he was finally talking to. Maybe it was because he didn’t matter. Maybe it was because there was no one else left.
“Why’s that?” He asked, grinning like he was feeding off Aziraphale’s pain.
“I wasn’t enough for him, obviously. He always said I was, but if it was true he wouldn’t have been off snogging someone else the moment my back was turned.” He shrugged. It was the first time he’d said in so many words.
“Someone told you?”
“Photographs.”
“Oof.” He said, but he was grinning broadly.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and pushed off the wall. “As delightful as this has been …” He murmured. Michael’s hand shot out, catching him by the hip and reeling him closer. “You’ve got ages before you go back on. Stay with me a while.” He purred. Aziraphale felt an unease bubbling up within him, but he didn’t resist. Who was waiting for him in there? He really had fucked it up if Michael was his only option. He leaned back against the wall.

“Look Azi, I’ve been forward with you, Gabriel made that abundantly clear last term.” He said, fiddling with his joint. Aziraphale listened more because he was there than because he was interested in an apology. “I wondered if we could start again?” He asked. It occurred to Aziraphale what he was asking and he suddenly felt very jaded. He managed to keep the revulsion off his face at the thought of being with anyone else.
“It’s … flattering.” He said quietly. “But I’m not ready. I don’t think I will be for a long time. Plus, I’m sure Gabe made it clear that I’m not interested in dating you.” He said, shaking his head.
“You really are cute Aziraphale, but I’m not a romantic like your last boy. I wasn’t suggesting anything nearly so permanent.” He smirked.
“Oh.” He said, finding that didn’t really change his answer at all.

 “Come on Azi, if you squint, we’re not that different. Same height, same hair. I can be him tonight, if you want me to be.” He said, moving closer. Something flared at the back of Aziraphale’s mind but the joint and the drink had made his head blurry in an unpleasant way and he couldn’t grasp the thought. Aziraphale backed away until he hit the brick wall of the little terrace. For the briefest moment, he wondered if it would be so bad. Crowley had done this after all, it had never meant anything to him. It might even make him forget, just for a second. Before he could make up his mind, Mike was kissing him.

It was wrong, too hard, too perfunctory. He felt slimy, like everywhere Mike touched was stained. He felt his tongue force its way into his mouth and his mind rebelled. This was nothing compared to him. It was revolting. He tied to cringe away, met with the rough brick. He tried to push him away instead, but he only laughed as he pulled back a little, eyes glittering. “You know how this is going to end, you might as well make it easy for me, Aziraphale.” He said, leaning into him again. There was no-one to save him but himself.

He didn’t think, he just drove his knee up into Michael’s crotch with all the force he had. Mike made a strangled noise and melted away from him, dissolving in pain. “You fucking SLUT.” He roared from the bench he had half-collapsed on.
“That’s not a nice word.” Aziraphale said, feeling his hand curl into a fist. He’d never punched anyone. He wondered distantly if he could do it. He wiped a hand over his face, feeling like he really did deserve to be called it.
“All the other words I have for you are worse.” He spat. “I thought Gabriel was the only nutter in your family. You’re all the same.” He said, cringing in pain.
“You didn’t learn your lesson though, did you?” He asked quietly, taking a step towards him, wondering how far he would have to go to stop Mike coming after him again.

A hand wrapped around Aziraphale’s arm and he fell still, staring at it to save himself from looking at the face that went with it. He knew that hand as well as it knew him. “You’re better than that, angel.” Crowley said gently. Aziraphale’s eyes slipped closed, he couldn’t help his reaction, it was embarrassing. All Crowley had to do was be there and he felt safe, protected. Crowley’s hands moved to cover his fist tenderly, his thin fingers gently unprising it. “Luckily, I’m not. Let me deal with him?” He asked. Finally, Aziraphale let himself look at his face. He was barely supressing a cold rage, always so careful to protect Aziraphale’s emotions, even now.

Before he could answer there were heavy steps on the stairs. “Here comes the cavalry.” Michael groaned. Gabriel was there. Aziraphale turned to face his brother reflexively, his body pressing back against Crowley like he could hide him from Gabriel. “I saw everything from the roof terrace. Are you okay Aziraphale?” He demanded. His gaze slipped off Crowley like oil on water, he only had eyes for his little brother.
“I … think so?” Aziraphale whispered, feeling very small. Gabriel pulled him into a hug that spoke so much more than his words ever could. Crowley let him go, and all Aziraphale could wonder was what strange truce had been drawn up between the two of them. Maybe Crowley had moved on, didn’t mind the loss of him. Maybe he was glad of it.

Gabriel pulled away with eyes as hard and grey as flint as he turned to face Michael. “I told you what would happen if you so much as thought about him again.” He said, grabbing him by the shirt.
“Erm, Gabriel?” Crowley said conversationally, eyes dropping from the terrace above to the pair of them. He reached out and took Aziraphale’s hand, idly pulling him towards the far end of the little terrace. “Your girlfriend is still watching. I heard that that whole arrangement relies on you not getting … punchy.” He said.  Gabriel hesitated, but the venom never left his eyes.
“She’ll understand.” He said, resolve hardening. Aziraphale felt all the hope he’d put in Gabriel’s recovery warring with his want to see him punished.
“I don’t want you to.” Aziraphale said quietly.
“You’re going to tell me he’s your boyfriend now too?” He asked. Both Crowley and Aziraphale winced at that.
“You’re doing so well. Don’t relapse, not for him. He isn’t worth it.” He said.

Gabriel sighed and looked back at Michael. “Shame there’s those twelve steps in the way, eh?” He smirked. Gabriel took a steadying breath.
“You’re lucky he asked. One word and I’d wipe the floor with you. You’re disgusting. I want all of your shit out of my house by morning.” He said, dropping him.

“Get Aziraphale downstairs, get him a drink and get him back on stage.” Crowley said, extricating himself from where he had started to wind protectively around Aziraphale.
“You have to be kidding?” Gabriel said, taking in the state of his brother.
“He can do it.” Crowley said, giving Aziraphale a glance over. He glanced up to Gabriel as a hand was extended towards him. He blinked at it uncomprehending for a moment before he shook it.
“Thank you.” Gabriel said, tone thick with meaning. Crowley just nodded and eased Aziraphale towards him, letting him take him away. Aziraphale made a small noise of protest at losing him.
“It’s okay angel. I’ll see you after the show.” He promised.

“You’re still going to win.” Michael swayed. “After everything I did to those photos, you’re still going to have him.”
“The photos?” Aziraphale whispered, pausing at the top of the stairs.
“Some of my finest work.” He spat.
“They weren’t real.” Gabriel realised.
“Faked?” Aziraphale gasped, seeing all to easily now that it was Michael in the pictures, edited just enough to give the impression of Crowley in the dim light of a club.
“You fell for it so easily Aziraphale, a couple of edits and an anonymous text. You were so ready to believe he didn’t love you.” He smirked, recovering enough to stand.
“What have I done?” Aziraphale whimpered. He had spent hours staring at those pictures, praying for them to be fake, trying to find anything that would redeem Crowley. They had been fake all the long. It had all been for nothing. “Crowley.” He whispered, reaching out to him. He didn’t look up to him.

“You know he was right about you from the start. Everything I called Crowley … I was describing you. Manipulative little bastard.” Gabriel growled, eves alight with fury.
“Get him out Gabriel.” Crowley said tightly, his anger barely restrained anymore. Aziraphale knew what he was doing, he was trying to make sure he didn’t see hm hurt someone, not even Michael.

Gabriel ushered him down the steps without any delay. “No. No I’ve ruined it.” Aziraphale said, begging to go back to him. Gabriel was tight lipped as he crowded him towards the door. Aziraphale glanced up at the roof terrace over his broad shoulder. He could just make out the shape of Uri leaning over the railing with another figure beside them. Bee was resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Then he was back in the club, just hearing Crowley say. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” Before the door slammed shut behind them. The malice in his voice made him shiver.

He was instantly surrounded by anxious faces, Gabriel was pushing a glass into his hand, Uriel was wrapping her arms around him before he even saw her. Anathema was there, towing newt and Shadwell in her wake. Over her shoulder he could see The Them and the rest of the band. They were all noticing the commotion and coming over. “What are you all doing here?” He murmured, but no one answered. As soon as Uri pulled away there was a hand on his shoulder. Gabriel stilled but stayed quiet. Aziraphale turned to see Damon leaning down to him. It had been months. He let out a quiet sob and wrapped his arms around the taller boy. “I ruined it, didn’t I?” He asked. Damon pulled back from him and smiled a little.
“It’ll be fine, angel. You okay?” He asked
“Better than he’s going to be. Crowley might need you.” Aziraphale said, trying to believe him. He nodded and went to the staircase. Aziraphale’s eyes followed him and there was Bee waiting for him. They nodded at him, their eyes barely flickering to Gabriel before they went up to check on Crowley. How could he have felt so alone only moments ago? He was surrounded by people who loved him unconditionally. It was overwhelming. He needed to get away from them al and there was only one way to do it.

He put his glass aside and slid off the stool he didn’t remember climbing onto. “I’ve got a set to finish.” He murmured.
“We can stop.” Pepper said, seeing how distant he was, his mind still up those stairs, but on Crowley or Mike even he wasn’t sure.
“I can do it.” He said. Moving for the stage before anyone could stop him. He was the first back on the stage. He played a quick riff of smoke on the water to check he was still amped. Pepper slid behind her drum kit and did a quick Hawaii 5 0 drum roll that actually managed to make him smile. It certainly got the crowd’s attention as the music faded. He could control what happened up there, it was his space.

“We’ve got a few more songs for you.” Megan smiled into the mic “So I hope you’re pissed off.” The crowd cheered and Aziraphale’s body knew what to do, playing the notes without his mind being anywhere near the stage. Everything now passed in a blur, his attention only caught when they transitioned into Killer Queen. He let himself focus on the music again, trying to make a space for himself between it and everything that was happening. Another song rolled by before Crowley came down the stairs. Aziraphale could breathe again. He was unhurt, moving with all the ease that was so natural to him. He slowly moved to the front of the crowd, his eyes never leaving Aziraphale. It was like the crowd melted away. He let all his pain and all his regret in, trying to apologise to him with every note. He would never play like Crowley, but he knew he could play to him.

“We’re coming to the end of our set now.” Amelia said into the mic, laughing breathlessly as the crowd made a disapproving sound as one. “I’m Amelia, Megan is on keys, Pepper is back there on the drums and Azi is on bass and vocals. You can find us online if you want more, we’re PATH and this next one is about living your best life.” She smiled. Aziraphale started playing Truth Hurts. He couldn’t help himself swaying with it. He saw Crowley smile up at him and he dared to think everything would be okay. They were all taking different lines, Aziraphale’s raced up to him. “I don't play tag, bitch, I been it. We don't fuck with lies, we don't do goodbyes, We just keep it pushing like aye yi yi, Why men great 'til they gotta be great? Don't text me, tell it straight to my face.” He sang. There was a chorus of whooping. The whole bar was bouncing. This song always made it a party, even when it was just the four of them rehearsing. Crowley was smirking up at him, so much love in his gaze that he was glad he didn’t have to sing again, he didn’t trust himself.

When the song faded into applause he turned to the others. “I have an idea.” He said. “What about we close out with I know a Place?” He said. He needed to apologise properly, making a bar full of people dance wasn’t the same thing by a mile.
“I don’t know the lyrics.” Amelia said uncertainly.
“How can you know the music and not the lyrics? Pepper asked.
“I know them.” He said.
“You want to solo?” Megan asked. He nodded.
“Let’s do it.” She smiled.

“Thank you for coming out everyone.” Aziraphale smiled into his microphone. Crowley rolled his eyes at the pun but Aziraphale looked down at him. “This is for you.” He said simply. He sat on the stage, giving Crowley the mic, He held it up to him with a smile, they were practically eye to eye. He shifted the bass into his lap and nodded to the others. They smiled and started to play. “I knew when you told me you don't wanna go home tonight, and you tried to just shrug it off when I asked you why, Somebody hurt you, Somebody hurt you.” He stared straight at Crowley as he sang, barely even thinking of anything but him. He made it through most of the song before he started to loose control of himself. Crowley reached out, putting his other hand on his knee. Aziraphale took a deep breath and got ready to close out the song. He could hear the quaver in his voice, but it worked.

He took the bass off and laid it aside, taking the mic and scooting to the very edge of the stage so they were nose to nose. The others all stopped playing at his lead, only Amelia accompanying him. “I know a place we can stay, Where everyone gonna lay down their weapon, Lay down their weapon, Don't you be afraid of love and affection, Just lay down your weapon.” He begged him. The room erupted.  Crowley’s eyes had grown wide, his hands resting lightly on Aziraphale’s legs, like he didn’t know how to be closer to him.

He held his hand up to him and Aziraphale took it, slipping delicately down from the stage in front of him. “You were amazing.” He said simply.
“Crowley I-“ He said, not knowing where to start.
“Not now.” He whispered “Just let me be here.” He said. Aziraphale took his other hand. Running his thumbs over his knuckles. “He won’t bother you anymore.” Crowley promised.
“I don’t care about him.” He murmured. Crowley’s arms moved around his waist and he leant down, resting their foreheads together.

Aziraphale stayed like that for an age, just basking in having him so close, in the hope that he had him back. "I think you and I need to have a weird about your set list angel." Crowley said eventually, his voice rough.
"Ah yes. In hindsight it might have been a little much. Maybe you can pretend it wasn't all for you?" He suggested meekly.
"Zira, if you were playing like that for anyone else, I don't think I'd survive the jealousy." He whispered; eyes bright as he swayed them gently. 

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him tentatively, glancing up for permission. Crowley gave him the smallest smile, letting him know it was okay. He tucked his head in against Crowley’s shoulder, feeling how much sharper than normal his collar bone was against his cheek. He hadn’t been taking care of himself and Aziraphale knew it was his fault. He bit back the tears, but of course Crowley could tell.
"It's okay. I'm here." He whispered.
"But you weren't and it was all my fault." He said. Crowley sighed and Aziraphale heard everything he wouldn't say in it. Yes he had been hurt, no it might not be the same, not right away. 

"It wasn't your fault." He said eventually. “Mike studies graphics, he knows how to edit a photo …”
"I should have believed you. I wanted to believe you.” He said. Crowley didn't answer that.

"Can I try again or have I ruined it?" Aziraphale asked. Crowley’s eyes slipped shut and he tipped his head back. Aziraphale watched the lights of the disco passing over him like clouds. 

"You have no idea, how much I missed you." He whispered. He bent to kiss him and Aziraphale tensed, blushing at his reaction. He wanted him to kiss him more than anything, to make everything right, but he still felt infected "Mike ..." He whispered. Crowley nodded, eyes narrowing at the thought of Michael forcing himself onto him.
" Let's get you home Zira. You can clean up." He murmured, touching his cheek tenderly. 

"I saw you kick that bastard right in the balls I’m so proud.” He smiled, looking so much like his old self that Aziraphale’s heart soared, Crowley put a possessive arm around his hips, steering him for the door. Aziraphale didn’t take his eyes off him as they went, didn’t see his friends watching them out. He certainly didn’t see Gabriel order another drink at the sight of them leaving together, a truce was one thing, seeing them together would take some getting used to. He smiled down at Uri and shrugged. They would be okay.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

“Gabe, Uriel.” Crowley greeted stiffly, pulling himself from his slouch against the wall of the restaurant. Gabriel made a distasteful sound.
“Are you two sure you can handle this? Same room is one thing, but dinner is something else.” Uri said.
“As long as he behaves, I’ll be fine.” Gabriel sighed.
“Me? Behave?” Crowley smirked.
“Listen, Anthony-“ Gabriel started.
“Don’t call me that.” He snapped.
“What do you think mum’s going to call you? You need to get used to it. Anyway, just be polite, keep your hands to yourself and smile, alright?” Gabriel insisted.
“Sure, I’ll do my best Gabe impression.” He said, rolling his eyes.

“Are they in there already?” Uriel asked.
“Yeah, they’re waiting for us.”
“Why didn’t you go in?” Gabriel asked.
“On my own? I’m stupid Gabe, but I’m not that stupid. She likes Uri, it’ll take the heat off me.”
“You don’t have to be scared Crowley. I was terrified to meet her, but she was really kind.” Uri smiled, sweet as ever. Crowley barely suppressed an eye roll that probably would have given him a haemorrhage.
“Of course she is, Zira has to get it from somewhere.” He said, letting just a hint of his panic surface.

Gabriel pushed the door open and spun him by his elbow into the restaurant “Alright, don’t get handsy.” He hissed, but there was his Zira, face brightening at the sight of the three of them together. He could read his thoughts as if they were clear on his face, this was his family now, all together in one place. Crowley followed Gabriel’s lead, watching him envelop the smallest woman he had ever seen in a hug. She fussed over him, smoothing down his immaculate coat and poking at his perfect quiff with a laugh. Then went Uri with an overly formal greeting before she too was dragged into a cuddle. He could feel Aziraphale’s eyes on him, expectant, but he didn’t dare look directly at him.

The fear of judgement, of belonging to anything that Gabe called home was clawing at him. He needed to run. This was all going to be too painful when it was ripped away it was-

Too late.

She was in front of him, smiling Aziraphale’s brightest smile. “Here he is.” She said, her voice musical and warm, long blonde hair cascading around her shoulders in waves, her sgrey eyes somehow brimming with joy, foolishly, he thought of the calm after a storm.
 “Lovely to meet you Mrs-“ he had his hand held out properly, as if he were going into a business meeting. That was stupid. But then she was pulling him in and wrapping her arms around him. “Please, call me Francis.” She said, pulling back to size him up. “I didn’t think you’d be so tall.” She smiled.

 
“Muuummmm.” Aziraphale cringed.
“Alright, alright, go on love, go see him.” She smiled. Crowley finally retreated into the chair beside Aziraphale. He hesitated for a moment, not sure how to greet him with his entire family staring down at him. “Happy birthday, Zira.” He managed a smile. Confusion crossed Aziraphale’s face. He’d already had a very nice happy birthday from Crowley that morning.
“Ohhh.” He said, remembering present company would have expected this to be the first time they had seen each other all day. “Thank you.” He blushed. Gabriel rolled his eyes at the display and it was all Crowley could do not to smirk as the others took their places. Aziraphale squeezed his hand tightly under the table.

He was watching them carefully, trying not to be seen to watch at all. Whatever his deal with Gabe was, he was certain it would crumble if he went for him every time he raised his hand or nudged against his little brother. All Crowley could see was Zira falling, his arm twisting on the cobbles beneath him, that inhuman look in Gabriel’s eye. He swallowed and forced himself to look around.  If he gripped Aziraphale any tighter, he’d break his hand.

“Azi told me all about you." Zira's mother smiled wickedly as they settled in to dinner.
"Not all about me I hope." Crowley murmured. She laughed like a waterfall, filling the room with its thunderous force, yet somehow it soothed him completely. He felt a very rare heat rising to his cheeks and tried not to look at Aziraphale's response to him blushing like a maiden.

"You're a musician?" She asked.
"Yeah I play a little." He ventured a smile.
"He's one of those infuriating people who can pick up an instrument and just play it." Aziraphale put in, glowing with pride.
"That's really not true." Crowley smiled modestly.
"How long did it take you to get a tune out of that harp?" he asked.
"... Fair point." Crowley agreed indulgently.

Frances' eyes were bright as she watched them fondly bicker, her smile stretched across her face, even though she was trying her best to hide it. "A band too, I hear." She said.
"Yes, some people from my course. We aren't as good as Zira's though." He said, glancing across, expecting to see the shy blush he loved so much on Zira’s face. Aziraphale had bypassed blushing all together, turning purple. Oh no, he'd done something very wrong.

Francis turned her eyes on him. "A band, Aziraphale?" she demaned. Oh shit, of fuck. He couldn’t be that stupid. It had been a secret. How could he not have known that it was a fucking secret? He gripped Aziraphale's hand under the table, a silent apology.
"Mmmmmmmmmm we've only played one show and I didn't think I was that good I was waiting to tell you until I had a good video to show you the girls are really nice but I don't think it's your kind of music and they needed a bassist mum she was stealing pasties or something I'm sorry-" he expounded it all in a single breath. Crowley thought he would have gone on until he’d asphyxiated himself if his mother hadn’t intervened.
"Azi, Azi." She laughed, gently flapping her hands "I'm happy for you! What an excellent way to build your confidence up!" She grinned.
"Confidence is the last thing he needs." Gabriel sighed.
"You've seen him play?" She asked. Gabriel shot Crowley a look. The performance, as incredible as it had been, wasn’t what they had been all that focuses on that night. Crowley had a brief flash of memory, leaning a beaten Michael over the edge of the terrace, letting him see the street below before Bee stormed up the stairs, Damon pulling them apart. He swallowed, forcing himself back to Zira’s side. That night was best forgotten.

"We crashed it; he wasn't expecting to see us." Uri smiled, defusing the sudden tense silence, saving the day like always. "He was excellent, a natural." She beamed. Aziraphale was just about recovered enough to shoot her a weak smile.
"Next performance, I want video evidence." Francis chided. Aziraphale nodded mutely and the conversation faded into much more comfortable territory.

Zira’s hand slowly released his from the crushing grip of panic it has been locked in and he was soon smiling, a laugh pealing from him every now and then. If his mother’s laughter was a waterfall, Aziraphale’s was a stream in the quietest part of a forest. Crowley loved him all the more for it. It sounded like home. It was a herculean task not to kiss him, not to touch or tease or make another slip. Zira looked radiant in his shirt and silly little bow tie. Several times he caught his hand sneaking over his knee, or his imagination wandering further, biting the impulse back savagely.

Crowley could see how having them all together meant the world to him. Honestly, he couldn't even say it was that arduous. The conversation was lovely, Zira's mother seemed to adore him. The food was amazing and the wine was better. Even Gabriel was being civil. To a stranger, it would just look like they were just strangers as opposed to arch nemeses. All the while he got to hold Aziraphale's had under the table, their knees pressed together in a reassuring warmth that grounded him, helped him forget that he was meeting his future mother in law.

"Presents!" Francis trilled when Aziraphale had finished his last bite of cake with more enjoyment on his face than Crowley had ever managed to put there, he reflected jealously. She produced a huge bag from beneath the table.
"Mum..." Zira said, more a warning than anything else.
"It's not all from me. Hang on... This is from Auntie Sue." She said, handing over the first package from the bag. Aziraphale laughed as he unwrapped the slim parcel, pulling out a thin strip of fabric. "Oh no." Crowley sighed.
"What is it?" Uri asked.
"A bowtie." He said happily
"What's wrong with that?" Gabriel asked, daring Crowley to pop off.
"You mean other than the fact he didn't know how to tie them?" He asked.

"Crowleyyyyy?" Aziraphale pouted.
"What, right now?" He asked, blushing again as Zira put the fabric in his hand. He nodded and started tugging on the one he was already wearing.
"Come here, you're going to rip it in half”. He murmured. Aziraphale swivelled, his face so close as Crowley slipped his fingers into his collar, easily working the knot loose. He had to know how awkward this was, to be so close to him with his whole family watching. A caught a slight mischievous glint in his eye. Oh, this bastard. Crowley wouldn't be surprised if he did know how to tie them. He popped his collar up and tied the new one as gently as possible, all the while thinking up fantastic ways to torture him for winning a blush from him.

"How do you know how to do them up?" Gabe asked scathingly, interrupting his train of thought.
"I've worn suits." He said defensively, grinning despite himself at the state of Aziraphale.
"How do I look?" He asked.
"Festive." Crowley said diplomatically.
"Camp as Christmas." Gabe corrected, earning him an elbow in the ribs from Uri.
"Sue has been desperate for someone to come out." Gabriel rolled his eyes at the brightness of the rainbow bowtie.

"This is from us." Uriel said, putting a much chunkier parcel on the table. Aziraphale grinned and tore it open. It was the chunkiest book of bass tabs Crowley had ever seen. It would take Zira months to work through them. The other part of the present was a huge box containing individually wrapped bags of tea in every flavour imaginable. No prizes for guessing who contributed what.

"Well, I was going to give you your present at the party, Nath is looking after it for now, but I did bring this." Crowley said, pulling out an envelope. His expression turned from enamoured to deeply unimpressed in all of the few seconds it took for him to open the card.
"What is it love?" Francis laughed.
"A badge."
"You love badges."

He rotated the card to show a bright pink design featuring Peppa pig. A badge big enough to take up most of the surface had the number 9 printed on it in white with a party hat perched on it, with a number 1 scrawled in front of it in what looked suspiciously like flaky tip ex. Gabriel couldn't help himself. His laughter was booming. Crowley realised that he'd never heard him laugh. Christ, he and Bee really had been miserable. Aziraphale said nothing, but he let Crowley pin the badge to his jumper.
"What an outfit." He grinned wolfishly.

"My turn" Frances smiled. She pulled out a beautifully designed box, blue with silver designs of scrollwork in the corners. She slid it over the table, a twinkle in her eye. He looked at her suspiciously but pulled it closer anyway. "It's heavy." He said softly. He eased the lid off and gently moved aside the tissue paper. He gave the tiniest little gasp Crowley had ever heard, his fingers dipping into the box to stroke what he found there.

"It's not for looking at, Azi." She said fondly. He nodded and lifted the gift from its box, still swaddled protectively in its tissue paper. It was a book. Of course a book would have gotten that reaction from him. Even Crowley had to admit it was a work of art. A complete Shakespeare collection, bound in a sunshine yellow fabric embroidered with a myriad of flowers down the spine. The blooms crept around onto the covers, spilling over. Aziraphale wiped his hand of non-existent crumbs and stroked the cover ponderously.
"Mum..."he breathed.
"I know." She smiled "thought it might bring you some inspiration." She added, grinning at his happiness. He gently nestled the book away and got to his feet, going around the table to hug her fiercely. Crowley smiled at the sight, unable to imagine himself hugging his own mother like that, or her knowing him well enough to get him a gift that meant so much. He shrugged the thought away.

It was agreed that all four of them would walk her to the train station. Anathema had the party prep in hand and didn't need them back for ages yet. She pronounced the little troupe her honour guard and they all dutifully marched beside the old city walls as they took her on the scenic route to the station.

Crowley hung back during the farewells, carrying the precious box and book under his arm. He watched the respectful way Uri hugged her and exchanged a few words, taking note of how it was done. Francis hugged him just as violently as she had at first. Apparently, he had not disappointed her. "Take care of my baby?" She murmured.
"Always do." He smiled.
"And make sure he's taking care of you. He gets in his head sometimes." She smiled "you deserve to be looked after Crowley. Come visit me soon, okay?" She asked.
"Promise." He said.

He tried to hide yet another blush as she whispered "I like him.” to Zira and he giggled back.
"Me too." They hugged again, and then she was on the train. Aziraphale was misty eyed on the twilit platform as he waved after the train.

Once it was gone, Crowley laced their fingers together.
"Did I pass?" He asked.
"Not for a moment." Gabriel sighed, looking exhausted. Aziraphale beamed.
"You were magnificent." He promised.
"Your party awaits. I promise it'll be far less genteel than the rest of your day.” Crowley said, smirking. He had a lot of good behaviour to make up for.

…

“You’re looking lonesome.” A voice said.

Crowley twisted to see Anathema hovering uncertainly beside the couch he was lounging on. He rearranged himself into an unconventional tangle of limbs to make space for her, nodding to the spot beside him. She sank slowly into it. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her so flustered.

“So.” He said, wondering why she’d come over.
“So.” She agreed. The last few months lay heavy between them.

“I said some things.” She frowned. “I did a lot of things that I regret. I can’t make up for them, but I need you to know that I did it for him. I would have done it for you if things had been the other way around.” She said quietly.

He raised his beer to his lips, giving himself time to figure out if that was true. He sighed. It was so tiring to be the one forgiving everyone. All his life he had been unforgivable. It had been so much easier. “Listen Nath … Me and him, it’s back to how it was. I didn’t think I’d ever get that again, but I do. I never thought I would get someone like him in the first place. I thought feeling like that was only for fairy tales. The fact that I got an amazing friend in the deal too was greedy. I saw exactly how good a friend you can be in amongst all of that shit. Even though you didn’t believe it and it hurt you, you were there for him. You turned up at my doorstep, demanded his stuff, you told me to fuck off when I loitered around your door. I would love it if you could be a friend like that for me again.” He said, looking over at her.

Her magnified eyes held magnified tears as she nodded her head emphatically. “Don’t get upset. We’re all here for him, we always are. He’d hate to be reminded of all of that again tonight.” He said softly. She took a steadying breath.
“Do you always do this? Downplay what you’re feeling to make his life easier?” She asked. He shook his head.
“We’ve had it all out. I said what I needed to and it’s fixed. All that stuff though, that’s between us. He’s the only person I can share it with. Sorry Nath, I just can’t talk about it.” He said, twisting his bottle between his fingers. She nodded and he leaned against her, feeling that bridge between them reforming. “I missed our dumb texts.” He said, looking up as Gabriel laid a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder across the room. She followed his gaze.

“I can’t stop watching them.” She whispered. “It’s like nothing ever happened.”
“Yeah well. I wasn’t there, Gabriel got his hooks back in somehow. I’ve just got to live with it.”
“You think he’s safe?” She asked.
“He’s trying to be. That’s all we’ve got.” He shrugged.

He watched them closely, noticing Gabriel’s face darken. He was on his feet before he had time to think. Anathema grabbed his arm. “You’re looking the wrong way.” She said. He twisted, following Gabriel’s eyeline to the kitchen door.
“Oh shit.” He hissed. His housemates hung in the doorway, an uncertain rabble in enemy territory. Bee was supposed to be here hours from now, when Uri had ushered Gabriel home. He made a course for Bee, barely registering Aziraphale looking just as panicked as his brother.

“Evening Bee. Wasn’t expecting you for a few hours yet.” He said lightly, trying to get their attention from Gabriel. “Drinks?” He offered.
“Please. I can’t take the drama of it all if I’m not high.” Harry said. He bypassed him easily and headed for the pile of drinks on the counter. Damon followed as he always did and Crowley pulled Bee along too, murmuring to them quietly. It all felt too familiar. He was reliving every fight they and Gabe had ever had, reliving that night they had crashed Gabriel’s party, when Aziraphale had kissed him.

“Hi Bee.” Aziraphale’s voice was warm as ever just behind him, but he could hear the hesitation in it. It was the first time since their break up that the two had met. He knew that Aziraphale was terrified of what they would say, and he knew that Bee had plenty to tell him. He put his arm around Zira, squeezing the soft curve of his hip. He leaned into his side, smiling tentatively.
“It’s been a while.” Bee said quietly, focusing on him. He gave an uncomfortable sound of agreement. “We’ve missed you at the house. Come back round soon, okay?” They said, eyes flickering over his shoulder and back to his face.
“I can ask him to go.” Aziraphale said softly. “I think he’d probably prefer it.”

“Actually… I want to talk to him.” They said. Damon choked on his beer.
“Bee … that’s not a good idea.” Crowley sighed. “Last time …”
“Last time I was drunk and in my feelings and he wasn’t with Uri. Plus, I didn’t give a shit if I upset her then. Actually, it was kind of a bonus.” They sighed, fidgeting with the top button of their shirt.
“You don’t owe him anything.” Crowley said firmly. He felt Aziraphale wince beside him. It was too hard to keep all these plates spinning, all these fragile emotions, he was smashing into everyone’s.

“Look. You and Azi are a thing, Crowley. It’s a small campus. You can’t expect that he and I aren’t going to bump into one another. We have to sort this out.” They said.
“You want us to come with you?” He asked.
“I believe it’s traditional to only have one second in a duel.” They teased. “Let me take Azi with me. You’re probably in enough trouble with him as it is.” They said, eyeing Crowley sceptically. He sighed and nodded. He couldn’t deny it, but using Zira as a human shield was low, even for them. Aziraphale slipped away and offered them his arm. Such a fucking gentleman. They took it.

He watched them across the room and turned away to make himself a drink. “How did you get us all into this, Crowley?” Harry asked. Crowley wrinkled his nose. “He’s worth it.” He said firmly.
“All of it?” Harry asked in disbelief.
“Yeah.” He smiled down into his cup.
“You soppy sod. I remember the days you would have forgotten twelve of him.” Harry sighed. Crowley said nothing. He turned back around to watch the two people he cared about most walk straight up to the only person he was really scared of.

Uri did what she always did, buzzing up a conversation, making it easy for them all to be in the same space. Gabriel was obviously trying to be on his best behaviour.
“Relax, you can’t protect them all from each other forever.” Damon said.
“I can try.” he muttered. He watched as Bee squared their shoulders, pulling away from Aziraphale slightly. They put their hand out to Gabriel. He hesitated, putting his hand out to shake theirs.

“Oh, fuck me.” Harry muttered.
“It’s kind of sweet.” Damon countered.
“I need new friends.” Harry said. Crowley rolled his eyes, straightening back up as Bee came back to them. They blew a jet of air between pursed lips. They held a hand out and Harry passed them his cup without a word. They drained it and passed it back.

“How was that?” Crowley asked.
“Necessary.” They said.
“I’m proud of you. You didn’t have to do that.”
“He doesn’t control my life Crowley, I needed to know that. I think he did too.”
“This isn’t like the start of something again, is it? I’m not getting in another ambulance with you.” Harry said.
“No. God no. She’s welcome to him.” They sighed. “But Aziraphale looked like he was the verge of a fit. You should go spend some time with him.” They said, giving him a rare smile to reassure him.

He slipped away, making his way over to Zira slowly, wrapping his arms around him from behind. “Hi.” He whispered, smiling into his shoulder. He turned his head to smile at him, that smile that was like the sun coming out.
“Hey you.” He whispered back. Crowley watched the lights reflecting off his face for a moment; green, then red, then blue. God he was beautiful. He kissed him gently, not caring who saw. He felt that pretty blush warm Aziraphale’s cheeks and pulled back.
“I still haven’t given you your present.” He smiled.
“I told you not to get me one.” He answered coyly.
“Didn’t listen.” He said, wrinkling his nose.

“Do you want it now?” He asked.
“In front of everyone?” He frowned.
“Yeah … I mean if I drag you out of here after kissing you like that, poor Gabriel’s head will explode.”
“True.” Aziraphale laughed.
“Okay, give me a minute.” He smiled, kissing his cheek. He laughed again and Crowley nodded to Anathema. She followed him out and Newt turned out the lights. Everyone whooped and laughed. “You ready?” She asked, lighting the candles on the cake.
“yep.” He grinned, following her back into the kitchen.

He started playing Happy Birthday on the brand-new bass, the huge bow on its nose glittering in the candle light. Everyone joined in pretty quickly, forming a circle around the table as Anathema set the cake down and pulled Zira over to it. He glanced around, his eyes so bright in the candlelight that it looked like he was about to cry. Crowley realised that that was exactly what he was about to do. He was so happy, so overwhelmed by all the attention, all the love. His face crinkled into a bright smile as the song finished. He leaned down to blow out the candles and the lights blazed back to life as everyone cheered.

The dork made a little curtsey, not knowing how to back out of the attention. Crowley decided to rescue him. Nothing made people look away faster than PDA. He played a riff, sounding a little tinny on the portable amp he’d bought just for that entrance. Aziraphale smiled and moved towards him, his fingers hovering over the strings. “For me?” He asked.
“Well, I didn’t put the bow on it for myself.” He smiled. “Plus, it’s not really my colour.” He added.

The body was a bottle green, frets, pickups and dials a gunmetal grey. “It’s beautiful.” He whispered. “But why?” He raised his eyebrow.
“You deserve one that’s yours. I understand why you want a connection to him that’s untainted, but I don’t want you weighed down by anything when you play. Plus, you haven’t been mean to me with this one yet.” He grinned, trying to offset the look of bottomless emotion in Aziraphale’s eyes. He laughed and wrapped his warm hands around his face, leaning up to kiss him.

“Enough of that for now. You’ll scare all of your friends away.” He whispered, pulling back.
“Let them go. I want to say thank you.” He murmured, looking up through his lashes, surprising Crowley with his boldness.
“Later, my love.” He grinned, shrugging the bass off and looping the green strap over Zira’s shoulders. He led him over to the little lounge and pulled his rehearsal amp out, crouching down to wire him up, throwing him a salacious wink while he was down there. Aziraphale blushed and stepped back quickly, masking it as adjusting the instrument.

“I don’t know what to play.” He admitted.
“Some things never change.” Megan grinned.
“Come on, do something from our last set.” Amelia added.
“No. You know that’s not a good idea.” He blushed.
“Then play something better.” Crowley smiled, sitting on the floor and staring up at him.
“A bastard song?”
“Whatever you want, angel.”

“Anyway, here’s wonderwall.” He joked. A few people laughed, but instead he started playing A Nirvana song. He always came up with the unexpected. Smells Like Teen Spirit rolled out across the lounge, the girls of the band humming, singing and imitating their own instruments. All the while Crowley watched him with sweet eyes, wondering how anyone could be more in love with another human than he was right in that moment.

Chapter Text

"I don't know if I can do this." Crowley said to the boy in the mirror. He looked too young to be here, like a twelve-year-old in an overcoat had snuck into a university.

He had played gigs in every bar in the city, he was a Rockstar when he performed, that was his stage persona. He honed it for two years. Tonight was different. This was his music, his love letter to Aziraphale, and all those strangers would hear it. His parents would hear it.

He studied himself for a moment longer, wishing he could at least wear his sunglasses to block out the sight of what he was about to do. His concentration broke as he heard footsteps approaching. 

"You decent, Crowley?" The stage manager called. He sighed and forced his cocky smirk onto his face.
"Morally? Never. Am I wearing pants? Sure." he said archly, hearing the weary sigh of a third-year just trying to do their job before the door opened. He was leaning back in his chair. 

"You're on in five." She said, but Crowley only had eyes for the bouquet nestled in the crook of her arm. "Oh yeah, I'm not a delivery girl. Next time you debut, your boyfriend can bring you flowers himself." She said, but there was a spark of happiness in her eye. That's what Aziraphale did to people, he brought them happiness just by being his humbling, lovable self.  Crowley got to his feet and took the flowers as tenderly as he would a baby, admiring them.
"Thank you, Cassy. You're doing an amazing job." He told her. She rolled her eyes fondly.
"Yeah well put it all in your feedback form. If I don't get a first for this I'm dropping out." She teased. 

She let him be, off to chase some first years into position. Crowley smiled down at the flowers, wondering how on earth Aziraphale knew his favourite shade of roses, such a dark red they were almost black. He propped them up against his mirror, touching the waxy petals tenderly.

It was an old tradition, flowers on your opening night. It was like he was some revered old conductor. He snorted. How like Zira to get carried away in the romance of an old tradition. He would be out there somewhere, waiting all pink-cheeked and bright-eyed. So would his parents, but he focused on the thought of Aziraphale, watching him like he always did. There was a wide-eyed innocence to it, like every time Crowley touched and instrument was the very first time he had ever heard music. He wondered if he looked as lovestruck when Zira played, he certainly felt it.

Somewhere nearby, a bell chimed. It was his stage cue. He stood and pulled on his blazer, smoothing it out and buttoning it carefully. He considered himself in the mirror before he snapped the head from a flower and slipped into a button hole. He looked like he was getting married. The thought gave him a smirk at what Zira's reaction would be.

He opened the case on his dressing table and pulled out his mother's violin. He might be far from the perfect son, but If there was any gift he could give her, it was this.

He headed for the stage.

...

Aziraphale sighed as the two people in the hall headed to stage door. His breath caught as the lights lowered and a spotlight illuminated the centre of the hall.  "And now, Anthony J Crowley will be performing his end of year composition, Eden." The compare said, just as breathy and forcefully ethereal as she had been all evening.

Aziraphale's eyes were fixed on him as he stepped from darkness into the pool of light. He looked radiant. His eyes zeroed in on the bloom on the front of his suit. The dark petals matched his wine-red tie perfectly, standing out against the matt black fabric of his suit.

He had gotten Aziraphale's bouquet. The thought made him feel warm.

He had never seen Crowley in a suit before. He would have to invent some reason to see it again soon. He smiled to himself, thinking it was the most handsome Crowley had ever looked.

Crowley looked up over the crowd for a long moment before he raised the violin, tucking it neatly between his chin and shoulder. He closed his eyes, and he started to play, filling the hushed silence of the room with something monumental.

Aziraphale thought it had been overwhelming to watch him play at The Hole in the Wall. It was nothing compared to this.

Crowley was so lost in the music, so perfectly attuned to every note that the rest of the darkened audience faded to nothing, an enthralled backdrop for all of Crowley's skill. That he had written it himself, brought something so beautiful out of nothing, only heightened Aziraphale's wonder. He gripped the programme so tightly that it was beyond ruined. He had wanted to preserve it, a keepsake to make something so fragile, so fleeting last.

Every sudden tilt and slow rise of the bow was pure hypnosis. It took him on a meandering journey. It began with a sultry swell, becoming sweeter, almost unbearably so. Just when he didn't think he could take it anymore, the tension of it broke into a primitive, discordant wailing. Crowley’s face wrinkled at the effort of keeping his emotions in check, but all the while his eyes stayed closed.

Slowly, oh so slowly, a reprise of that sweet melody returned, interwoven with something darker, more honest, more vulnerable. It felt like a whole quartet, a whole orchestra was playing, but there was Crowley, standing alone in a spotlight, him and his music against the world. 

It looked like Crowley almost took himself by surprise when the piece ended. His eyes blinked open from a great distance as the last note reverberated in the air, lulling them all in the last breath of the piece's enchantment. He returned to himself, catching his bearings and lowering the instrument. The movement seemed to wake the audience from their stupor. They rose to their feet as one, Aziraphale among them, and gave him a standing ovation. 

Through all of the whispering and peering, Crowley looked up into the stands, eyes finding Aziraphale's in the darkness. Their meaning was clear. It was for you. You have to know, it was all for you. He nodded to him, bringing a hand up to wipe his face. Aziraphale hadn't noticed he was crying. 

The compare distractedly rose to her feet. "I think it's safe to say his lecturers will reward that piece well next month. Thank you, Crowley.” She said.

He crossed the bow across his body and gave a respectful little bow on the balls of his feet before exiting stage left, pursued by praise. 

Aziraphale had to sit through two more acts before he got to see him again. They were pleasant enough, but the motions of Crowley’s piece battled in his mind. He could see them on a scrunched-up piece of paper beneath his bed. 

…

Crowley was waiting in the foyer for him in the intermission. He spotted him lingering in a corner, a dark glass of wine in hand. "Crowley!" he grinned. Crowley only just managed to put down his wine before Aziraphale was in his arms.
"Woah, Zira." He laughed, but he was drowning under his kisses, and he didn’t want it to ever stop. "Zira stop it." he laughed, hugging him tighter.

"You can't play that, looking like that and expect any less." He smiled. Crowley took the flower from his buttonhole and poked it through the knit of Aziraphale’s jumper. "Well you gave me such nice flowers, the least I could do was play you a song." he smiled.

Aziraphale stretched up on his toes, freezing when a throat cleared behind him. He was inches away from Crowley’s lips. Crowley stilled, his hands moving from Aziraphale’s sides, going behind his back. Aziraphale sank down and turned slowly.

A middle-aged man and woman stood there, eyebrows raised. "Mr and Mrs Crowley." He blushed fiercely, wanting the earth to swallow him.

"So, this is your Ezra." his father said tightly.
"Azi, dad." Crowley corrected. Aziraphale watched his face go through a few shades of discomfort before selling in recklessness. He put his hand in Aziraphale's again. "This is my Zira." He said firmly. 

Emboldened, Aziraphale looked up at them properly, searching for the resemblance. Crowley had his father's build, tall and thin, his eyes maybe too. But his father's hair was brown, neat.

His mother was altogether harder to look at. She had a kind face, but it was tired. Her soft frame sucked gaunt by illness, medicinally inflated once more by steroids. It was like she was wearing someone else's skin. He knew too well why her head was wrapped in a silk turban. He let his eyes float back to his Crowley. His father's distaste hadn't wavered and his mother's curiosity was almost as bad.

"We’ll see how long it lasts this time." His father sighed. Aziraphale winced. Of course, he'd told them they had broken up. "It's good to see you haven't been totally distracted from your studies though." Crowley’s father said, eyes focused like a deadly laser on his son’s face. Aziraphale felt like he was fading out of existence being so thoroughly ignored. His Crowley’s hand tightened around his own, and that made it a little easier. As long as his Crowley wanted him there, he felt real.

"That piece was beautiful. I'm glad someone is getting some use out of that violin." His mother said, unconsciously curling her weak hands into the shapes Aziraphale knew from watching Crowley play.
"It's a beautiful instrument." Aziraphale ventured timidly. She gave him the ghost of a grateful smile. His father snorted impatiently.

Crowley just ground his teeth at the comments, wanting his shining moment with Aziraphale back. He should never have invited them to this. "Actually, dad, my grades have never been better. Zira is a study machine. He makes sure I actually get stuff done. Plus, you can't write without a muse." He said, daring his father to make a comment.

"Cro- Anthony..." Aziraphale murmured, uncomfortable. The name sounded all wrong in his mouth. He had never called him by that name before. It felt like a dead-name dripping from his tongue, tar-like and decayed. He regretted it instantly.
"It's true. I never could have composed that without you." he said, looking at him tenderly, as if they were the only people in the room. Aziraphale somehow got redder. 

"Well, if you could make less of an exposition of yourself, I was about to tell you how proud we were." The elder Crowley said dryly.
"Oh, he's young, Anthony. Let him be sappy if he wants. He'll grow out of it soon enough." His mother sighed.
“We can only hope. I can’t keep up with these phases.” He muttered. Crowley’s body suddenly diminished, like he was deflating. Aziraphale had watched him enrage himself at far less when it was Aziraphale’s honour in question, he couldn’t believe he was just taking this bile.

If Crowley had always stood up for Aziraphale, he wouldn’t let him stand here undefended against this tide of ignorance. He would let the waves break on him instead.

“I’m sorry, Sir. Even If we weren’t together … even if we were to break up.” He paused at the pain of the thought and Crowley seemed almost dissociative at it. “It wouldn’t change who he is. This is not a phase.” He insisted gently.

“You think you know him better than we do? What messes have you had to drag him out of? From what I hear, you’ve toyed with him enough to get him in a state almost as bad as his first year. Then you swan back in and you think you can lecture me about my own son?”

Mr Crowley wasn’t shouting; he wasn’t even red in the face. He was speaking with a calculated precision that chilled Aziraphale to the bone. There was a coldness in his eyes he recognised from his own Crowley glaring at his brother on Bonfire Night, the icy tone playing through his mind “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this” as Mike lay on the terrace. He swallowed.

"I understand why you'd think that, I really do. My dad was... My dad is part of the church. I grew up internalising a lot of the traditional moral teachings that I think you really respect. It made it really hard to be myself. I put on this front whenever he was around. One day I realised he didn't really know me at all. He put me in a position where he couldn't possibly part of my life because the person he knew wasn’t his son. I did that I had to keep myself safe. It doesn’t have to be like that for you.” He urged gently.

“Your son is kind and selfless and so incredibly brave. They're all parts of his wonderful identity, parts that you can't accept without accepting the whole." He said softly. "I understand that it isn't easy for you and you may not like what I represent. I don’t expect you to like me, or approve of us. I can’t expect you to accept me when you’re struggling to accept your own son. But I really care about him. I just want to do what's best for him, like he always has done for me." He swallowed.

"Zira ..." Crowley breathed, coming back to himself, Aziraphale immediately glanced to him, wondering if he’d gone too far. Crowley was good at so many things, but talking about his feelings was not one of them. Had it been his place to intervene at all? Crowley’s father looked incensed, but he weathered it with Crowley’s hand firmly in his. He had seen fathers do worse.

"Do you want me to go?" He asked. Crowley’s face spasmed and Aziraphale read it like a familiar poem. He never mentioned leaving Crowley in any context anymore. It burnt them too fiercely.

"Not without me. But … I think we need a minute." He said gently. Aziraphale nodded and stepped aside. He dipped into the dressing room, snatching up the bouquet to give them a moment of privacy. The lights around Crowley’s mirror made him look so pale.

When he returned, only Crowley and his mother were in the foyer. She was holding his hands on both of hers. They were frail and bird-like. He could see Crowley's hands in fists in her grip. He tentatively walked closer. "Your flowers, love." He said. Crowley pulled away from her, took them in one hand and wrapped the other around him.

"He told us you were a writer. You certainly have a silver tongue." She said quietly to Aziraphale. "Give him time." She added to her son.
"I shouldn't have to. He can be part of my life the instant he chooses to be. I'm not going to jump through hoops to keep him begrudgingly happy. I don't want to be a safe, non-threatening gay all my life. I want to be me, with my boyfriend." He sighed.

"Okay Anthony, well talk tomorrow." She said.
"I'm sorry that I put you in the middle of all this." He said.
"Don’t be." she said. She went to touch his cheek and thought better of it, turning to go. Aziraphale watched the uncertainty in Crowley’s face, letting her walk out alone when she was so frail.

"Home?" He asked quietly. Crowley laughed in an exhausted sort of way.
"Home." he agreed.

“Actually … I have a better idea.” He smiled.
“Angel, I’m not feeling it.” Crowley sighed.
“What I’m hearing is you want to go back to yours, have absolutely no snuggles and talk about your feelings.” He smiled. Crowley groaned.

“And my other options are?” Crowley asked.
“You let me take you out to celebrate your debut.” Aziraphale cooed.
“You and this bloody debut. I’ve played every stinking bar in this city.”
“But it was a fancy debut, wasn’t it?” He asked.
“Of course.” He conceded.
“Well I kind of had a surprise for you.” He admitted, toeing at an invisible line on the floor.

“You did?” Crowley asked wolfishly, trying to distract himself.
“Not like that!” He blushed.
“Shame.” He shrugged. “What is it?”
“I guess we’ll never know.” He smiled innocently, just waiting for the inevitable crack in Crowley’s composure, knowing that even if he wasn’t curious, and he could tell he was, he would ask just because Aziraphale wanted him to. He whined.

“If I agree to go, will you tell me?” Crowley asked.
“Absolutely not.” He smiled.
“Lead on, angel.” He smiled, winding him in his arms.

…

“The museum? My special treat is a museum?” Crowley asked in disbelief.
“It’s inside the museum.” Zira smiled.
“Angel, you know that I love how much you love dinosaurs, but not that much.” He said, rubbing a tired hand over his face.

“Can you remember a few years ago the Tate modern put on this amazing installation, it was all over the news. It was like this big orb they projected the sun onto and you could watch the fire moving and all the sunspots. It was beautiful. Mum would take us to see it and there would be people sunbathing under it.” He smiled.
“The south is weird.” Crowley teased, wrapping an arm around his angel, more interested in kissing him somewhere dark and secluded than an old installation he vaguely remembered, especially when the angel was beaming at him enough to put the blessed sun, fake or real, to shame.

Aziraphale caught his eyes dipping to glance at his lips. He wasn’t being nearly subtle enough. “Are you even listening to me Crowley?” he asked.
“Yep, big sun, fond childhood memories.” He smiled, imagining Aziraphale’s grinning face beaming down over the Turbine Hall of the Tate. It was surprisingly disturbing. He suddenly remembered how terrified he’d been of the Teletubbies sun as a child and shook himself to the present, much like Aziraphale had wanted.

“Well they’ve done an exhibition with the same concept but I think you’ll like it much more.” He said, excitement rising again. God, it was infectious.
“Come on then, show me.” He said indulgently. Aziraphale did a little wiggle that almost killed Crowley on the spot. He grabbed his hand and pulled him into the main hall of the museum.

Crowley had to admit, it was stunning. The orb was huge, the image so crystal clear that it felt like Aziraphale had plucked the moon from the sky for him, returning one night of stargazing for another. When he tore his eyes away from the majesty of the artificial moon hovering in the hall, Aziraphale was a few paces ahead, turning back to smile at him. Crowley’s breath caught at the sight of him, somehow his skin was illuminated in blues while the white light of the moon caught his hair and ignited it in a messy halo of pure white.

How had he found this creature who would stand up to his parents for him with such ferocity, send Anthony the first running for the hills? Yet he looked so sweet and kind and good. What was better; he looked at Crowley like he was all those things, like he was worthy, like he should be worshipped. He was glad the pale light stole the colour from his skin, because Aziraphale was looking at him like he was a perfectly delectable desert and his answering blush was astounding. He held his hand out to him and Crowley took it immediately.

He pulled him directly beneath the moon and they stared up at it. For something so clearly an impossible replica, it was spellbinding. He shifted them so he was holding Zira from behind, arms around his soft middle, chin on the top of his head as he stared up at it, enchanted.

People came and went, but all the while they stood there, moon bathing.
“Thank you.” He whispered, pressing a kiss into his cheek. Aziraphale hummed quietly. He was so at peace, it had seemed impossible back at Uni, but here they were.

The room began to fill again, but this time nobody seemed to be leaving. “What’s all this?” He asked as a table was being set up in the corner.

Suddenly Aziraphale looked very embarrassed. “Well they’ve started doing these late-night things at the museum and well… you can stay for a disco if you want to.” He said, looking thoroughly uncomfortable.
“A disco?” Crowley echoed in disbelief.
“Silent disco.” Aziraphale corrected.
“You brought me to a silent disco?” Crowley said, feeling the smile spreading across his face.

“It’s under the moon Crowley! And … and as much as I love dancing with you at the queer nights, it feels like I’m sharing you with everyone that you know there, like stage Crowley is on all night.” He said, looking panicked and rushing to add. “And I love seeing you like that, I really do! I just wanted to dance with this Crowley where there was no-one we knew. It’s silly, isn’t it?” He said, pulling away from him suddenly flustered

“Zira, calm down.” He smiled, taking his hands again. He raised them both to his lips, an old-fashioned gesture that he knew made his angel melt, like they were courting gentlemen in one of his classic novels. He felt Zira calm down a little at that. “It’s a fantastic idea, love. If you want to dance with me, you only have to ask.” He smiled.

Aziraphale gave him such a soppy look that he couldn’t bear it. “So how does this work?” He asked, searching to redirect all that undistilled love.
“Dancing?” He said in confusion.
“No the silent disco thing.” He laughed.
“Oh, I’ll go get the headphones.” He said, scurrying off before Crowley could do it for him. He huffed. Zira had planned this whole surprise; it didn’t seem fair for Crowley to be doing none of the work.

“So, the music is organised by feel, with different playlists so we could be listening to anything or we could synch up.”
“Do they have anything moon themed?” He smiled.
“They suggested the oldies.” He admitted sheepishly. Crowley slipped on the headphones and found a channel that had a smooth 40s song playing, something crooning and gentle. He slipped the huge headphones onto Aziraphale and matched his own up, offering Zira his arm. He gave a wiggle of delight and stepped into his arms.

Crowley began a gentle waltz. Aziraphale’s eyes widened as he realised Crowley was leading him in a real dance. With the headphones on he couldn’t demand to know where Crowley had learnt, but the desire was in his eyes as clearly as the reflection of the artificial moon above them.

It didn’t take long for him to pick up the steps, swaying happily as he leant against Crowley. He could feel the warmth of him everywhere they touched, beneath his palms, chest to chest. This was beautiful, just him and his angel swirling around the cosmos as every light faded but the moon. Around them people were dancing in a frankly worrying array of styles, but as a woman sang softly of angels dining at The Ritz, Crowley leaned down with a smile, kissing him in thanks. He was utterly at peace, all thanks to his angel.

...

The lounge has been abandoned when they reached Crowley's place, it was past midnight but the house was buzzing with noise. As they went up the stairs, Harry burst out of his room, an unhinged look in his eye. Damon was crouching outside his door, playing a song about skeletons from a kids Halloween cd as loud as Crowley's amp would go. 

And the hip bone's connected to the, leg bone it explained cheerily while Harry screamed. "I have to cut up a fucking corpse tomorrow and you’re playing this shit?”

And the leg bone's connected to the foot bone. “it's not even fucking accurate. Do you want to know how many bones are in the human foot?" He seethed.

"From the sounds of it, you need a bone in you." Damon leered. 
"Does anyone on this fucking house care that I’m straight?" He howled. Crowley rolled his eyes and wound his foot in the amp wire. He leaned on Zira and have it a sharp tug. The music stopped instantly and they started, only just noticing the pair of then there.

"Oh sorry, has it been a hard night for the straights?" Crowley asked, eyebrow raised.
"Crowley I've got an exam tomorrow. Make him stop." Harry demanded.
"If you gave a crap about your final you wouldn't be off your face, Doctor LaVista." Damon jeered.
"Am not." He said.
"Are too, I could hear you hoovering it up with your massive fucking noise."
"Everybody fucking does it."
“Some doctor you’ll be.”

"Lads!" Bee snapped, face appearing at the bottom of the stairs. They fell quiet. "Harry, you know you’re going to pass, go sleep it off. Damon, I don't care how funny it is, stop being a dickhead. Crowley..."
"Why am I in trouble? I just got in" he pouted.
"You're not, I was going to say you did a good job tonight."
"You heard?" Aziraphale asked.
"Popped by, I'm glad it was worth listening to him cry while he wrote it." they grinned.
"I didn't cry." He said to Aziraphale, who smiled at the teasing. "I didn't cry!" He yelled down the status as Bee retreated. 

In a huff, he grabbed his amp from Damon and dragged it back along the hall. Damon made a noise like a disappointed toddler. "Stay out of my fucking room." Crowley huffed.
"Byeeeee Azi." He trilled, loping off in search of someone else to torture.

Crowley was brushing non-existent dust from the amp when Azi got into his room. "Oh ... I didn't bring any stuff back." he realised.
"Good job I kept some of it then, isn't it?" He smiled as he turned back to him. "Still in your drawer.” Aziraphale knew he should be mad at that, but he actually found it incredibly sweet. He dug through and found a pile of his old PJ's, getting changed at a lightning pace while Crowley’s back was turned.

"Are you hiding from me, angel?" he teased, but there was still something missing from his voice. Aziraphale got himself on the bed and opened his arms to him. Slowly Crowley shrugged out of the suit and burrowed under the covers with him.

Aziraphale let them be quiet for a while before he couldn't take it anymore. "So, the J stands for juniour." He said quietly. Crowley flinched and nodded. "I understand why you hate it now, being named after him.” He murmured.

"I was gonna change it, but everyone kind of just accepts the surname as a name thing. When you've got a reputation like mine, I guess it's just even more theatricality." He sighed. Aziraphale pulled a hand through his boyfriend’s hair, watching how it reflected the light golden against his hand.

"I'm sorry if I made things hard for you. I couldn't bear to let anyone talk to you that way."
"No Zira, you did the right thing. If I heard she stranger being spoken to on the street like that I would have gotten involved. They've just made me think I deserve to hear that shit." He muttered. “I've wanted to cut them out for so long, but then mum got sick and they've held it over me ever since. 'you can't run away, it'll kill your mother', 'doesn't your mam have enough to worry about' ..."

"That's so abusive." He whispered.
"No, they're not, they're just-" he stopped short at the look Aziraphale was giving him.
"It's manipulative, it's wrong and it puts you under emotional stress. It's coercive. It's abusive.... Trust me, I know." He murmured. 
"Zira ...”
"I'll lend you my old therapy notes." he teased, trying to bring the conversation back under control.
"Only you would be studious enough to make notes in fucking therapy." He sighed, looking up at him. 

"Fuck them. I've got you; I've got friends, your mum loves me. Gabe tolerates me. I don't need them." Crowley told himself more than Aziraphale.
"You've got such a strong family here in this house Crowley, and they all need you as much as you need them. I'm never going anywhere again either, I promise." He whispered, kissing him soundly.

Chapter Text

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this." Aziraphale muttered. 
"It'll be fun!" Megan grinned, auburn bob glowing in the disco lights of the Hole in the Wall.
"No rehearsal, nothing." Aziraphale chuntered, but all the while he was slipping on his bass, the beautiful green one that had been a gift from Crowley, already well used.
"I wrote the tab for you!" Pepper butted in.
“On the back of a receipt! I'll just wing it.” He said it in exasperation, but he was grinning.
"it's open mic, no one is expecting a full top-quality set Azi.” Amelia stuck her tongue out at him.

Aziraphale looked at the bass tab scrawled on a drink stained receipt and frowned “Is this the mash up I specifically said I'd never sing on?”
“Yeeeeeeees.” Pepper smiled, wavering the ‘e’.
“Am I singing?”
“Yes.” Megan said much more firmly. Aziraphale just rolled his eyes and stuffed the tab in his pocket.
“Which part do I come in on?” He asked as they edged out of the kitchen that served as a green room and made their way to the stage. The owner was up on stage introducing them. It was a particularly raucous crowd tonight. It was Pride tomorrow and they were ready to kick things off. For the Hole in the Wall, the best night of the year was brewing, and they were the opening act on an open mic extravaganza.

“Second song, I want to watch Crowley spontaneously combust.” Megan smirked, pulling his attention back to the matter at hand. Aziraphale frowned.
“He's not that bad…” he muttered.
“Oh, if he doesn't jump the stage, then the jealousy will kill him.” She said.
“Jealousy? Unless you’ve summoned up some tall back up dancers, he’ll be fine.” He laughed, giving Pepper a hand up onto the stage and following her.
“All those boys hearing you sing those words. I bet you barely even say stuff like that to him when it's just the two of you.” Megan grinned, but then she was up to the mic. He glared at her, but she was right. Maybe lyrics were the perfect excuse for a bit of seduction, he just hoped he wouldn’t fluster his way into awkwardness. He wished he were drunker. 

"Ey up, we’re PATH." Megan began. The crowd howled, but Aziraphale kept his eyes on his bass as he got himself ready. "I know you've come to expect a certain pissed off aesthetic from us, but our set writer has fallen in love again. So take this, it's off the Hamilton mixtapes." Recognition and laughter swirled up to meet them as they started playing  Helpless. He guessed they weren’t just doing one song after all.

Aziraphale beamed as he sang. “I have never been the type to try and grab the spotlight, We were at a revel with some rebels on a hot night…”

He loved musicals, that was no surprise. It had been nearly impossible to get Crowley to listen to the Hamilton soundtrack until the mixtape had dropped, now they schemed up ways to get cheap tickets. He finally caught sight of Anathema waving wildly. He sang to her with a tipsy smile. “Laughin' at my sister as she's dazzlin' the room..” His eyes dragged across to Crowley, just standing there beside her, smiling. “Then you walked in and my heart went ‘Boom’, Tryin' to catch your eye from the side of the ballroom, Everybody's dancin' and the band's top volume, Grind to the rhythm as we wine and dine, Grab my sister, and Whisper, ‘This one's mine’."

Crowley was smirking at him, an innocent look on his face crumpling by the moment. He knew he wasn’t putting on much of a show for anyone else, it was always only the two of them when music was involved.

Much too soon, the dreamy, romantic mash up of Shura songs started, 2shy, dancing around a will-they-wont-they, bittersweet melody that had Aziraphale swooning even as they played. Religion had that same romantic music, but the lyrics were a little saucier than Aziraphale usually allowed himself, but he was looking up, finally relenting to Crowley’s gaze.

He grinned at him, such a loving stupor on his face that he clearly wasn’t even listening, just staring up at Aziraphale

“We've been talking on the telephone for hours at night, Whilst I've been thinking about kissing you, I wanna consecrate your body, Turn the water to wine, I know you're thinking about kissing too…” He sang, feeling his cheeks heat up. Some part of his brain that still wilted at the thought of his father behind a pulpit shrivelled up and died at the sacrilege of it. He smiled. He expected Crowley to smirk, or laugh, or do something distracting enough to throw him off his beat. Crowley was blushing a scarlet Aziraphale had never seen on him, eyes wide. He pushed his way to the front of the crowd, with Anathema only nominally holding him back.

He looked as though the stage wouldn’t be enough to stop him. He leaned up, trying to get closer to Aziraphale on the stage. The instant the song was over. Crowley jumped up, pulling him into a kiss, the bass the only thing that stopped him enveloping his silly angel.

“Bass off, down there, now.” Crowley said, eyes bright as a jeering chorus started out at his outburst. If it wasn’t known that the lead man of a band and the bassist of another were back together, it certainly was now. Crowley jumped lithely off the stage, leaving Aziraphale staring after him blankly for a moment. He blinked and found the bass a good home before he stumbled from the stage, blushing violently. He could feel the jealous glances of more than one lad as he brushed past, following the glow of Crowley’s hair.

“They always put on a show, thanks to PATH and … special guest for the theatrics.” Cuppa Tea crooned. “Next, a first year band called … is this right?” He sighed into the mic “Pig shit.” It was all lost on Aziraphale as two perfect arms slid around him. “May I have the next dance?” Crowley murmured in his ear. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he turned in his arms.
“So you liked the song?” He asked hopefully. Crowley looked at him in disbelief.
“Half the bar wanted to beat me to you Zira, they all loved the song.”
“Only half?” He chuckled weakly.
“Maybe some of the Lesbians too, the Ace delegation weren’t into it.” He teased, kissing him gently as a horrendous racket started on stage.

A heartbeat later Crowley was pulling away from him. Aziraphale whined, his protest lost under the din, but Crowley must have felt it. His lips were to his ear again in an instant. “I’m on, Zira, cheer for me?” He asked. He was gone before Aziraphale could agree. He ached with the loss of him.

“Don’t look so down Zira, you’ll get to see him play.” He looked up, and there was his Anathema, a cocktail in each hand.
“Where have you been?” He demanded.
“I was here literally the whole time. She laughed. He launched himself at her, nearly spilling the drinks from her hands.
“Calm down Azi." she laughed, doing her best to hug him back.
"It's pride and I'm drunk and you're here!" Aziraphale hummed, holding onto Anathema’s arm. He caught sight of the stage as Crowley appeared, high fiving his bassist and laughing at something. Even from here, he could see the corners of his eyes crinkle, the faint blush on his cheeks.

"And look at him! If I don’t get to be gay when he looks like that then what's the point." he swooned. He felt her eyes on him and turned to face her. "what?" he smiled. 
"I can’t believe it's only been a year. You've changed so much Azi." she said softly and they both thought of that night in the rain when the world fell apart. "I'm so fucking proud of you." she whispered. Tears filled Aziraphale’s eyes immediately. She laughed gently and pressed a kiss into his cheek. "You were my Azi first." she teased. He wrapped his arms around her and they swayed, wildly out of time with the beat they were starting up, out of the corner of his eye, Aziraphale caught Crowley smiling so warmly he thought he might catch alight. 

Despite having no name, they were good, they were always good, the songs slid by and encore after encore was called for. They played Pills and Isabella, Serpentine and John wayne a mix of songs that shouldn’t have worked and absolutely did. Finally … finally he dropped from the stage and Aziraphale took him by the hand. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question as Aziraphale dragged him to the back of the room, to the mostly empty entrance way. He took some pleasure in the fact those eyebrows raised impossibly higher with the certainty of Aziraphale’s kiss.

Bands and time slid by, they danced, they kissed, they giggled and blushed as people said hi, only stopping to chat briefly, knowing they were interrupting two people totally wrapped up in one another. Aziraphale was getting particularly giddy by the time he tuned in to what the illustrious Cuppa Tea was saying next.

“If there's one thing an open mic it's good for, it's a mash up. Different songs, different bands. I think we all know what we want to see. Azi, put him down and pick up your guitar.” His blood turned to ice as every eye in the room found him.

"Oh, no please." he blushed, feeling all eyes slip towards where he was rather busy pushing Crowley into a corner. He was suddenly very grateful that Gabe had declined the invitation to see him play, he couldn’t have stood him seeing them quite this entangled. Bee was here though, and they’d never let him live it down.
"Everyone's looking, Zira." Crowley whispered.
"No they aren’t." he murmured, pressing closer, trying to hide in Crowley’s narrow frame. 
"Come on Crowley." the coo came from the stage. This made Aziraphale pause.
"Together?" he asked
"Yes, it's the only way we'll get you up here." Cuppa teased.

Crowley all but carried him onto the stage. He put a hand to the small of Aziraphale’s back under the pretence of guiding him through the crowd. His smirk was loud and his head was held high, he looked so much like a peacock that Aziraphale had to bite back a laugh. His stomach went all fluttery when he realised it was pride on his face. Crowley was showing him off, showing everyone in the room who he was with. He blushed violently. 

When they reached the stage, Crowley gave him his hand to steady him up, it all felt like some grand recency romance, like he was stepping up into the carriage with the help of Mr Darcy. It was a fantasy too tender for the raucous room, but Crowley read it in the softening of his eyes like notes from a score. He clambered onto the stage muttering "call me Mr Crowley and I’ll dump you." but he was beaming. 
"Would never dream of it, my dear. What are we playing?" he asked, playing a little riff to cover their talk at the back of the stage. 
"Let's give them two songs and then I’m taking you home." He decided.
"But what?" Aziraphale asked. Crowley went up to the mic and just... asked them what they wanted to hear. He rolled his eyes, praying they picked something he knew. 

"Play MUNA again!" Anathema chorused with a group of girls. Aziraphale swallowed thickly.
"Some things are best heard once." Crowley smirked. 
"I know more of theirs." he said quietly, Crowley raised his eyebrows. 
"Lead on angel" he said, stepping away from the mic. Aziraphale smiled, playing the thick melody on the bass, piecing the fragments he remembered together into a beat.

Crowley grinned slowly, picking the beat up easily. God, Aziraphale loved this, it was like they were sharing something, building it up from nothing, piece by piece, Aziraphale the backbone that Crowley danced around. Aziraphale beat him to the punch with the lyrics.  “So I heard the bad news, Nobody likes me and I'm gonna die alone, In my bedroom, Looking at strangers on my telephone, Well, wouldn't you? Wouldn't you like if I believed those words?” he took a breath, letting himself connect with the lyrics. “I've been looking at myself in the mirror, saying Don't leave me now, don't leave me now."

Just as the sadness of the thought struck the misted edges of his drunken mind, there was Crowley, radiant, electric “Oh my God like, I'm your number one fan, So iconic, like big, like stan, like, I would give my life just to hold your hand, I'm your number one fan. I'm your number one, number one fan. So here's the bad news, I'm coming for everyone and coming on strong, New hair and new shoes, Yeah, I get what I like because I do what I want.” 

He let himself smile, Crowley’s eyes melting away his insecurities enough that he was swaying, almost dancing as he played. He was grinning when the song ended.

Crowley didn't give him time for discussion when it came to the next song. The notes were muted by the crowd but he saw the notes taking shape in the frets of Crowley’s guitar and his own hands complied, following his fingers perfectly. He had dreamed of playing this song with him again since the start, he knew his eyes were filling, but he didn’t need to see to play, he felt it.

Good Old Fashioned Lover boy mellowed the room, it was stupid and indulgent and sickeningly sweet and Aziraphale swooned at it. His heart filled with every tender touch and longing glance and hurtful, awful thing that had happened since he met Crowley, since he had left home and stepped from his brother’s shadow, his father’s ghost. Anathema was right, he wasn’t the same person he had been in that foggy car, the change had started the moment he had dared to play this song for Crowley in a little practice room.

Only Anathema knew that Azi had played this to him once, that it was how they started. Crowley was giving him the song back now, making a promise. Aziraphale let him sing it alone, just accompanying him. He had thought he was caught up in some star crossed tragedy, that he was just the lucky one in a love story, but he was better now, and he’d be better again, yes he was Crowley’s as utterly as Crowley was his, but he was Zira, he was Azi, he was Gabe’s little brother, but most of all, he was Aziraphale. Crowley saw it in him, and he helped him show it to the world.

*************

“Come here, you idiot. " Crowley smiled, hooking a finger under Aziraphale’s bow tie and drawing him close. 

"Crowley, we all know that look and we don't have time for it." Anathema sighed. Under any other circumstance, Aziraphale would have ignored her and followed that promising look in his boyfriend’s eye wherever it led. Today though, he sighed in frustration and pulled back from him. She was right.

“Marches never start on time." Crowley muttered petulantly, desperately trying to plant a kiss on the wriggling Aziraphale. 
"She's right Crowley, behave!" he huffed, trying to slap the hands from his shirt.
"But look at you!” Crowley protested, trying to grab at him again.

Aziraphale twisted to catch his reflection in the window. The fierce sunlight of an early summer day washed him out, like he was a ghost hovering at the edges of the party.
"I look silly. " he said, frowning. He raised his hands to fidget with his bowtie, dropping them when Anathema gave him a stern look.
“You look fab, it’s my greatest creation yet.” She said. She swept around him, inspecting her handiwork. She had somehow managed to fashion the flag above his bed into a cape, held in place by the bowtie had had gotten for his birthday. He was very rainbow-y, very visible. He swallowed.

“Zira…” Crowley smiled gently, seeing the panic rising in his eye. “You played the coolest pre-pride show in town last night, you smashed it, 300 people saw you kiss me on stage and then bundle me into a corner.” He smirked at that before continuing “and you’re worried about wearing a flag?”
“I’m worried about looking silly.” He muttered, eyeing how casual Crowley was, a small flag tied through one of his belt loops, glitter daubed over his high cheekbones. Crowley sighed heavily.
“I could have let ‘Nath make you a get up like hers, this is nothing.” He said, eyes gentling as he looked at him.
“We really need to go boys.” Anathema sighed. “Bee just messaged, they’re holding a spot for us all.”
“Go check Newt is ready, I’ll be there in a tic.” Crowley told her.
“Fine, but we’re leaving in two minutes Crowley, TWO.” She intoned, sweeping from the room in her gown of pink, purple and blue.

“What’s wrong Zira? What’s really wrong?” He asked, pulling him back into his arms.
“People will see me there.” He whimpered, not looking at him.
“That’s kind of the point, love.”
“Do you really think I should go?” he asked.
“You’ve been looking forward to this for months, why on earth wouldn’t you go?” Crowley frowned, wrapping him in his arms. “Don’t you think you’re gay enough?” He grinned, kissing his temple. When he said nothing, Crowley pulled back.
“Are you joking Zira?” He asked. Aziraphale looked down at his shoes.
“I haven’t been out very long, and I’m not proud of how I’ve been … how I’ve treated you this year, how other people treated me.” He said quietly..

“Oh, my silly angel.” Crowley murmured, tipping his chin up gently with a long finger. He held Aziraphale’s gaze gently. “You are valid, Aziraphale. You are queer enough. Hell, Newt is marching in a ‘I’m not bi, but my girlfriend is’ shirt. Pride isn’t about congratulating yourself for your exploits, it’s affirmation, it’s gratitude for how far we’ve come, a celebration of how far you’ve come Aziraphale.” He looked around for another way of putting it. “It’s a scream of anger at how far we have to go, we see each other’s pain at pride and we dare to hope it’ll all get a little bit better. You are queer enough Aziraphale. Will you believe that? Just for today?” He asked, tenderly stroking his cheek. Aziraphale pressed into the touch.

Crowley was looking at him with so much tenderness that he had to close his eyes.

“Just for today?” He murmured, opening his eyes to a beaming Crowley.
“It’s a start.” He said. His smile was infectious, Aziraphale found himself grinning, intertwining their fingers.
“That doesn’t seem too bad.” He grinned. Crowley looked at him like all he ever wanted to do again for the rest of time was kiss him. He settled on squeezing his hand and dragging him to the door. Their two minutes were up.

****

“Where the bloody hell have you been?” Bee snapped, grabbing Crowley’s arm and dragging him into the crowd. They were dressed the same as always, a buttoned-up shirt and black jeans, but they had painted their heavy boots the same colours as their flag. Damon passed a hipflask over their head to Crowley, who wrinkled his nose and passed it to a disgruntled looking Harry.
“Surprised to see you here, doctor.” Aziraphale said.
“Got overruled, but it’s the best party of the year.” He smiled.
“Still worried you’re not gay enough, Angel?” Crowley whispered. Aziraphale looked around in wonder, but he shook his head with a smile.

“What’s the plan?” Crowley asked the group at large.
“Meet at the park after the parade, Shadwell is there with all the picnic supplies already, so take your time. We’ll regroup there.” Anathema said. She carried on talking, but the music swelled, a troupe of drummers beside them springing to life. Crowley waved at some of the musicians he recognised in the brass section.

The column of people began to move as one, a dancing swaying, waving, cheering body. Crowley’s fingers tangled with Aziraphale’s and squeezed gently. He knew it was asking ‘are you ready?’. Aziraphale was already grinning broadly. He squeezed back, letting Crowley pull him into the crowd, leaving their friends behind in a flurry of laughter and colours.

Aziraphale couldn’t process all the signs and slogans and flags they weaved through, but he trusted Crowley to show him the way. With every glance back over his shoulder to check on him, Aziraphale’s certainty grew. This was exactly where he was meant to be.

When Crowley slowed, Aziraphale realised that he had been looking for something in particular. They were moving along slowly behind a vast flag as wide as the street, so long that it stretched as far along the street as Aziraphale could see, like a rainbow road. Every few feet along its length people gripped its edge. Crowley squeezed his hand and grinned, disappearing under it in an instant. Aziraphale laughed and hopped under with far less grace. He thought it might be worse than breaking and entering. 

All his doubts fled his mind once he was under the flag. It was like being underwater. The canopy just above him flowed with the wind in a hazy shiver, the light filtered through each colour of the flag, tinting the people and street below like stained glass. Aziraphale glanced down at his hands as he stepped between the colours, he looked as though he were made of rainbows himself.

The noise of march was oddly muffled here as the flag billowed and shook in the summer air. Shrill whistles pierced his world, the hum of a crowd. He jumped as someone outside moved past with a speaker, moving ahead until ABBA was lost on the breeze. He laughed quietly as he spun in his own little world. And then Crowley was there.

He caught snatches of him as the fabric billowed, illuminated purple, then red, then green. He tried to follow him, losing him time and again. Then his arms closed around him. They were in a patch of buttery, ethereal yellow light. He turned in his arms to look up at him. 

“How are you feeling, angel?” He asked, eyes bright.

"Pretty damn gay." he smiled. Crowley laughed and pulled him into a fierce kiss in their own little bubble of light. It was pure joy. It was heaven to be with Crowley here like this, to be fully, and ecstatically himself. 

A little bit of Aziraphale even dared to believe he deserved it.