Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"How long are you planning to take, sunshine? It's just a meeting!"

The booming voice of Gabriel floated across the hall, and Aziraphale sighed. His elder brother really needed to take it down a notch sometimes. He was as boisterous as an overexcited puppy whenever he really wanted to get something done, and it was oh so exhausting at times.

"Just a minute, Gabe", called back Aziraphale, snapping closed the final two buttons on his waistcoat and checking his reflection in the mirror to make sure he looked presentable enough.

Clean white shirt, tan colored trousers, beige waistcoat, brown leather shoes. Good enough for the meeting he was supposed to attend in one hour. Gabriel might crib about the way his white-blonde curls absolutely refused to get tamed and stuck around in all directions, but Aziraphale quite liked it. 

He swung his messenger bag across his shoulders and hastily stepped out of the room. Predictably, Gabriel had already backed the car out of the driveway and was standing at the main door, looking impatient and excited at the same time.

"Let's go, let's go. Huge client meeting today, baby bro", enthused Gabriel, and Aziraphale barely restrained from rolling his eyes. At the age of forty-five, he was definitely not anyone's 'baby bro', but it was impossible to correct Gabriel even on the best of the days.

They got in the car and Gabriel immediately launched into a drawn out recap of what he was expecting the meeting to be.

"I'll have to warn you, Az. This one is very strange. Her brief was so convoluted I lost the track of it in the first two minutes. I am hoping it will make more sense to you, what with your keen observation and listening skills. Let's see what she says today."

Aziraphale hummed in assent, but did not comment. He had heard whispers in the office about a huge potential contract which could possibly change the entire trajectory of their landscape management company. He was definitely curious for this meeting, but he knew most of the others were highly skeptical of Gabriel's decision to bring Aziraphale along to such a pivotal discussion. Well, he thought dryly, it was no surprise they thought their soft, mild-mannered head of project management could ever be an asset in a client meeting. He expected nothing less from them.

Still, Gabriel had assured him that this would be a good use of his time, so he had agreed to come along for the ride.

The entrance to the Agnes Home of Mystics was just as mystical as the name proclaimed. As Gabriel turned the car into the driveway, Aziraphale was pleased to see the beautiful cover of trees forming an arch over the driveway, dotted with colorful flowers and giving off an ethereal effect. He felt immediately calm and serene, his nerves settled and his mind relaxed. He smiled softly, marveling at the affect a few beautifully placed plants were having on him. Though it was not a very big surprise - Aziraphale had always loved such beautiful landscapes and artistic arrangements for as long as he remembered.

That was in part the reason why he had taken up this job, the other reason being that he was expected to contribute to the family business in some capacity. The Archer family had always been in the business of landscaping and making their client's gardens beautiful for centuries, and Aziraphale was proud of the legacy. In principle, it was a beautiful thing, but practically speaking it was a bureaucratic nightmare of handling clients, vendors, and his other family members. 

Aziraphale had started off his career twenty years ago as an assistant to his (now late) father, who had taught him everything he knew about getting things executed on time and as per specifications. He liked what he did, most of the times. At the other times, his heart yearned to lose himself in the unhindered beauty of natural meadows and endless fields of wildflowers and leave behind all messy deadlines and email threads and stand-up meetings which bored him to tears. He had always, always felt a very curious affinity with such wonderful creations of nature, but unfortunately ever since he had taken over this role, his days mostly consisted of wrangling people instead of spending blissful days in the company of plants.

Though there had been a wonderful respite to his tedious days lately in the form of an unexpected blogger who had taken to posting the most beautiful, verdant and artistic landscaping creations Aziraphale had ever seen in his entire life. Aziraphale had been following the portfolio of that marvelous artist for the last three years and he could not get enough of it. The creator went by the moniker AJ, and Aziraphale had no idea who they were, but almost every evening after coming back to his empty flat from his office, he would lose himself in the amazing, gorgeous pictures and descriptions of frankly other worldly creations which never failed to make Aziraphale's heart beat faster.

No one in Aziraphale's life knew about this secret obsession, but he much preferred it this way. He was enough of an oddball in the eyes of his family as it is, with his unusual approach to project management and the strangeness of him living alone for the most of his adult life.

He was musing over all this till they reached the main entrance and were ushered out of the car by a helpful security guard. They were led through a tastefully decorated reception straight to the director's office. The sign on the door proudly proclaimed - 'Anathema Device, Director'.

Anathema Device was an unexpected surprise, thought Aziraphale. Not at all what one would expect from the owner of such a distinguished establishment. She was dressed in a designer top and a flowing skirt, with large glasses and a young, enthusiastic demeanor. She smiled at the both of them and directed them to the chairs in front of her table. 

"Gabriel! So happy to have you here!"

"Glad to be here, Ana! This is Aziraphale, he heads our entire project teams and is the go to guy if you want things completed as per your requirements."

Aziraphale tried not to grimace at his how bland he sounded in his introduction, but smiled at Anathema.

"Hello Anathema, it is wonderful to make your acquaintance", he said politely.

"Likewise, Aziraphale. I trust Gabriel gave you a rundown of what I am trying to achieve?"

"Yes, he mentioned the details, but I would be glad to hear your thoughts directly and build a deeper understanding."

"It's very simple, really. We have one large estate on the outskirts of London, where no one has really been for the last few decades. It is overrun with wild grass and weeds right now, but I know it can be a beautiful place for people to hangout with their families, go on picnics and lose themselves in the natural beauty of the surrounding mountains. I need someone to take over the entire revamping of the area, and I know Gabriel since our college  days so of course I called him up. But what I want the landscape to be is quite different from what you guys do at Eden, I will be honest. I admire the way your team handles large projects, but I really don't want the design aesthetics which you have been implementing in your projects till date. Forgive me for saying this, but those are a bit too bland for my tastes."

Anathema looked slightly abashed as she said it, but Aziraphale was not offended in the slightest. He wholeheartedly agreed that the designs done by the Eden design team were sterile and almost soulless most of the times. He himself had never been a fan of those, but voicing this opinion was sure to cause immeasurable conflict between him and the others, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

"If I understand correctly, you would like us to manage your project but not design it?" he asked, wanting to get the facts clarified.

"Exactly. I love the way your team gets things implemented, and I am very happy to meet you - the man behind such an efficient operation. But the design has to come from me, that is one non-negotiable."

Aziraphale looked at Gabriel, trying to gauge his reaction. Anathema's proposal seemed perfectly logical to him, but Gabriel had the final say in such matters.

Gabriel looked hesitant, but Aziraphale knew he wanted to get this deal. Gabriel had spoken about it in length, and it had been clear he valued this particular client quite a bit.

After a few moments, he seemed to have come to a decision.

"I guess that should be okay, Ana. It will take some convincing to get the others to agree, but I will get it through."

"Oh, that is wonderful to hear!" enthused Ana, looking genuinely excited. Gabriel smiled at her enthusiasm.

"And of course, Aziraphale here would be handling the entire thing", he said, thoroughly surprising Aziraphale. He had mostly always been behind the scenes in all the projects, and he never would have expected Gabriel to make him the face of such an important assignment.

"Even better. I look forward to working with you, Aziraphale. I am sure we will be able to get this created as my aunt had envisioned, a haven for anyone who likes being with nature."

Aziraphale smiled at her, feeling the beginnings of an excitement at the prospect of a meaningful project.

"I'm looking forward to this as well. If I may ask, do you already have any designers in your mind to create this?"

"Ah, yes. I had shortlisted three or four, but there is one guy who I really want to be on this project. He is a bit elusive, but I finally managed to get in touch with him and convince him to take it up. He hasn't worked such large scale projects for a very long time, mostly he works solo now, but I just knew he would be the perfect person for what I have in mind. Wait I will show you some of the work he has done."

Anathema got up and walked over to the cupboard at the other end of the room, rummaging around in it. She returned with a file of neatly stacked printed pages and placed it in front of them. Gabriel picked it up and his eyebrows climbed higher with each page he turned. He frowned a bit, lips pulling down at the corners in what Aziraphale recognised as disapproval, but he did not comment as he set down the file with a smile plastered on his face.

"Splendid. Quite a unique approach to landscaping, I should say", said Gabriel in an even tone, but Aziraphale knew him enough to recognise the strain in his carefully controlled voice.

He was itching with curiosity to see exactly what was on those pages to make Gabriel appear so conflicted, so he picked up the file to see for himself.

The first few scenes were enough to convince Aziraphale that this was definitely not something that their design team could ever imagine in a hundred lifetimes. The designs were sublime, breathtaking and seemed to have a life of their own. They were vaguely familiar too, and as Aziraphale turned to the next page, he had to suppress a gasp of recognition.

It was a hauntingly ethereal garden set outside an old church, looking so peaceful and natural that it was difficult to believe that someone had designed it to look this way. It looked like a wonderful extension of the church itself, somehow embodying the spirit of the place but still standing out as a standalone structure. Aziraphale had enough experience by now to understand the skill it took to create such effortless looking beauty.

Same as he recognised the scene from a post on the blog he had been obsessively following for years. He would bet his life that this was designed by the mysterious AJ.

In a shaking voice, hoping not to be too obvious, he turned to  Anathema.

"My dear, who is the person who designed these?"

"Oh, his name is Anthony but he goes by his last name Crowley. Incidentally, he is the one who designed the outer entrance of this office years ago. He disappeared off the map for sometime, but fortunately I was able to somehow track him down", said Ana, looking pleased with herself.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, had stopped processing her words beyond the first sentence. One name bounced around in his head, stuck on a loop.

Anthony Crowley.

The man behind those masterpieces which always brought solace and joy to Aziraphale. 
AJ. His mysterious blogger, his secret obsession with their work sometimes being the only thing that kept Aziraphale going through tough days.

Anthony Crowley. The free-spirited creator with whom he would be closely working with on one of the largest projects his company had ever done. His straight-arrowed,  narrow-minded, rigid-in-its-views company, whose policies had always seemed absurd and stifling to Aziraphale.

And he would have to manage expectations on both sides to get this project completed as Anathema envisioned it.

Not to mention, he'd have keep a level head when he met the man himself and stay professional inspite of every thought in his head fixating on the possibility of finally meeting the person he had spent so long admiring.

Oh, dear.

Chapter Text

The drive back to the Eden office was a quiet one, albeit slightly tense too. Aziraphale could feel that Gabriel was holding off on speaking his thoughts on this project, but the impatience radiating off him was obvious enough to get Aziraphale unsettled.

"Gabe, what's wrong?", he asked finally after around thirty minutes of silence.

Gabriel sighed, sounding exhausted.

"I have known Anathema for a very long time, Az. And this is a very high value project, but getting Sandy and Sara on board is going to be an absolute nightmare! Not to mention, we have never done a project where the entire thing wasn't in our control", he said, tapping on the file he held in his hand.

Anathema had given them the file to get themselves acquainted with the works of the designer Anthony Crowley, and Gabriel had been holding it the whole way as if it were a live grenade that might blow up in their faces at any instant.

Aziraphale himself was a bit concerned about how the others would react, especially Sara - she did head the design team, after all. It was extremely unlikely that she would take kindly to being excluded from this project, and that too at the explicit request of the client. That was bound to bruise her already fragile ego.

Add to it the fact that Gabriel wanted Aziraphale to be the one spearheading this entire thing, and Sandy was bound to get offended too.

Aziraphale also sighed. God, how he wished right now to just turn the car around and go back to his flat to snuggle under some blankets. Alas, that wasn't an option today.

"And I don't even know this Anthony person! Never heard of him before this. If he really was as good as Anathema claims, where has he been all this time? This industry is so tight-knit, I can't believe I have never met this guy before."

Gabriel's voice was frustrated, and Aziraphale had to hold back his amusement. Gabriel prided himself on his network and connections, and it was bound to get him ticked off that he was clueless about a designer in a client meeting. Funnily enough, this had to be one of the rare scenarios in which Aziraphale knew more about someone in their line of work than Gabriel did. Granted, whatever he knew was about the person on the internet named AJ, but still.

As they reached the office, Gabriel seemed to have calmed down. It was quite typical, if you asked Aziraphale. Gabriel rarely let anyone see himself frazzled or unsettled in any capacity, and Aziraphale was sure he had already conjured up and sorted out multiple variations of how this particular discussion with Sandy and Sara would go.

Reaching the conference room where they all usually convened (Aziraphale had mostly been a spectator in such meetings for the longest time, but he had a niggling suspicion that might change today), they found Sandy and Sara already waiting.

"Hey guys, didn't expect you here!" said Gabriel in a remarkably relaxed voice.

"I'd bet, Gabriel. Seems like you didn't expect quite a lot of things when it comes to this particular project", replied Sandy, his tone grating and slightly miffed. Sara was glaring daggers at them and Aziraphale could see that she was itching to give Gabriel a piece of her mind.

Gabriel, for his part, stiffened slightly but regained his calm demeanor admirably quickly.

"Well, it is slightly irregular, but I am sure we can work it in our favor. After all, it is a big assignment for the firm, isn't it?"

"Hah! Don't sugarcoat it, Gabe. I know your precious client doesn't want me on this project", scoffed Sara, though Aziraphale could hear the offense underneath her derision. She really was pissed off.

"It's not about you, Sara. Her requirements are a bit different to what we do here, that's all", sighed Gabriel, looking like he was barely holding himself back from rubbing his temple.

Sara looked towards Sandy, disgruntled and beseeching.

"So she wants a nobody to replace one of our finest designers on this project, does she? Great client, Gabriel."

Aziraphale felt an unexpected wave of anger at Sandy's words. 

Nobody?

AJ could design the socks off the entire stupid design department of Eden with his hands tied behind his back.

Whoa, whoa. Where is this coming from?

Before he could think, Aziraphale spoke up in automatic defense of the marvelous AJ.

"That's preposterous. Just because you don't know someone doesn't make them a nobody. Maybe you are the one who is ill-informed", snapped Aziraphale, thoroughly surprising himself (and the others too, if their expressions were anything to go by).

Sandy stared at him with a shrewd, calculating look in his eyes that Aziraphale did not like one bit. But he held his ground and glared right back till Sandy looked away.

"Okay, okay, guys. No need for this to be difficult. It is upto the client. Our job is to serve the client to the best of our abilities. So we will get this Anthony Crowley in as an independent consultant and complete this project at the same standards that is expected of us, am I clear?", said Gabriel sternly, staring hard at Sandy and Sara, both of whom were wearing identically mutinous expressions.

"Fine", muttered Sara. Aziraphale heaved a silent sigh of relief.

"I guess I can live with that", muttered Sandy, though he still looked slightly miffed.

"Oh, and one more thing. I have asked Aziraphale to take the lead on this one. He will be interfacing with the client along with his regular project management duties", added on Gabriel, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Aziraphale braced himself for the explosion that was bound to come from Sandy. To his immense shock, Sandy did not bat an eye.

"Fine. I won't want to be leading such an eccentric project anyway. When it crashes and burns, which it will, I'd rather not have my name associated with it", he said.

Gabriel looked like he wanted to say some choice words on this, but he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

The office receptionist Muriel poked their head in.

"Excuse me sir, there is someone here to see you", they said, addressing Gabriel.

"Who is it, Muriel?"

"He won't give me his full name sir. He kept insisting I let him meet you, though I did tell him you are in a meeting. He said I could call him Crowley. Funny name, don't you think? Sounds like a crow, but he doesn't look like one, though I must say he looks -" Muriel stopped abruptly, looking abashed.

"Sorry, I should not be babbling about. Shall I ask him to come back later once he has fixed an appointment?"

"That won't be necessary, Muriel. Please ask him to wait for five minutes and then send him in", replied Gabriel.

"Jolly good sir."

Muriel closed the door and Gabriel turned to face all of them once more. He gave Aziraphale a curious look but did not say anything.

To be fair, Aziraphale had no idea what his own expression might be looking like right now. An odd mixture of anticipation, exhilaration, acute panic and an embarassing desire to squeal like an overenthusiastic schoolkid was running through his veins like a potent cocktail of insanity, and he had to fight like hell to keep his expression neutral.

The voice in his head was screaming like a maniac.

Anthony Crowley! AJ! THE AJ. Here in his office! -

He's here! Of fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck -

Oh get a grip - you are a forty five year old man, not a teenager meeting their celebrity crush for the first time! 

The (other) voice in his head chided him, but he was having a difficult time listening to it.

Reaching for the glass of water in front of him, he took a big gulp and willed himself to relax. Gabriel was saying something on the lines of 'presenting a united front ' and 'acting professional' but Aziraphale was way past all of it. In what seemed to be just seconds later, but would have been more than five minutes in reality, Muriel was back.

"May I ask him in sir?"

"Yes, yes, very well", replied Gabriel.
Aziraphale barely registered the words. There was an odd buzzing in his ears, and he idly wondered that if this was his reaction just on hearing that AJ was here, what might his reaction be when he finally met the man.

Best not to speculate, he thought a bit hysterically.

The door opened, and Anthony Crowley walked in. 

Aziraphale's jaw dropped.

Oh.

When he had first discovered the obscure blog of the talented designer/gardener who went by the name AJ, Aziraphale had not given much thought to who the actual person behind the blog was. He had just fallen in love with the beautiful creations.

Over the years, based on what AJ wrote in their posts along with the pictures of their creations, Aziraphale had slowly gotten a glimpse of their personality. Dry wit, a slightly self-depricating humor, and a very creative mind - of course. But there was also the sheer love of creation which shone through like pinpricks of stars on a clear night.

On a few occasional lonely evenings at his flat, with his laptop open in front of him, Aziraphale had wondered, and vague half-formed images of a gardener working on his craft would flit through his mind. He sometimes imagined AJ to be outdoorsy and woodsy, covered in mud as they planted and potted. Other times he imagined them as an artist, creating designs on paper before they translate to the real world, perhaps poring over an old, well-loved leather-bound notebook as they sketched to their heart's content - letting the creativity bleed through on the pages. Perhaps a glass of wine set next to them as they worked, and in his own flat Aziraphale would sip on some wine, listen to some music - and wonder.

But whatever half-formed notions Aziraphale may have indulged in over the years, nothing - absolutely nothing - came close to the reality that was Anthony Crowley.

The first thing that Aziraphale's mind registered was the hair. Deep bright red, shoulder length hair, pulled back in a half bun and the rest of it falling in gentle waves over a dark colored jacket. Then came the sunglasses, which in itself was an odd thing to be wearing inside an office, but served to draw attention to a long, straight nose, sharp cheekbones that immediately made Aziraphale feel weirdly warm all over, and (oh, dear - Aziraphale groaned mentally) soft-looking lips. His face was striking, and Aziraphale had to mentally shake himself to stop staring in awe. 

But then his eyes moved lower and he had to put a hand on the table to steady himself as he took in the entire aesthetics of the man's appearance.

A turtleneck. He was wearing a turtleneck. With a slinky silver scarf. And over the right edge of the black cloth around his graceful neck peeked a pattern of a swirling tattoo.

Fuck.

The man looked like a freaking rockstar.

The jacket ended at a slim waist circled by possibly the tightest pair of black denims Aziraphale had ever seen in his life. The turtleneck was tucked into the waistband of the jeans, and Crowley had looped his thumbs through the belt loops, his elegant long fingers resting near his pockets.

God, those hands -

Aziraphale quickly admonished himself. This was not at all appropriate. Though his heart raced and the buzzing in his ears seemed to grow louder as Crowley walked in (though swaggered might be a more appropriate description for the way he moved those long legs of his) and came to a stop next to the table with a cheeky grin on his face.

That smile -

Aziraphale took a deep breath through his nose and exhaled softly through his mouth, begging his mind to shut off the barrage of absolutely unhelpful thoughts running around at the speed of light. One thought made its way out of the maelstorm and cemented itself to the forefront of his mind.

Holy fuck! He. Is. Gorgeous.

And then another thought struck him which almost made him go weak at the knees. 

This is the mind that created all of those designs I have spent years admiring. This is AJ.

Holy fuck, indeed.

Aziraphale had experienced attraction before, of course. He had been in a few relationships, and he had been generally okay with living a quiet, solitary life for the last few yearrs now. It was peaceful and predictable, his work kept him busy, and he really was not expecting or waiting for any kind of whirlwind romance or unsettling feelings at this stage in his life. And anyway, wasn't that whole heart-beating-out-of-my-chest and getting all jittery and tongue tied with nerves something that happened to the young folk? Surely not to middle aged men like him, right? Right.

But this? Oh dear. It was like Crowley was his own personal temptation wrapped up in long limbs and impeccable swagger with a beautifully marvelous mind.

He was in so much trouble.

And then Crowley spoke up.

"You must be Gabriel?" 

"Yeah, and you must be Anthony -"

"- Crowley please, I go by Crowley."

"Very well, Crowley. Welcome to Eden. This is Sandy, our chief of operations," - Sandy gave him a stiff nod, and Crowley nodded back - "and Sara, our design lead. "

Sara smiled at Crowley, though it was barely more than a sneer. Crowley, for his party, gracefully ignored her intended jab and smiled back genially.

"And this is Aziraphale. He is the one who manages every project that Eden does, and he will be taking the lead on this one from our team."

Aziraphale braced himself as Crowley turned to look at him. He smiled warmly at the other man, as though greeting an old friend. Which, in one manner if speaking, he was.

"Pleasure to meet you, Crowley. I hope we will have a splendid time working together on this project, my dear."

Crowley looked a bit surprised, and Aziraphale realised that he had greeted him perhaps a bit too warmly for someone who he was supposedly meeting for the first time. He blushed a bit, abashed, but Crowley did not comment on his 'my dear', thankfully.

"Thanks, Aziraphale, happy to be here. Never imagined I'll be working on something of this scale again, but Ana got me super stoked for this one, so here I am."

Again?

"How do you know Anathema?" Aziraphale was curious.

"Oh, worked with her aunt on a few projects a long time ago. Guess I made an impression", chuckled Crowley.

"I'm sure you did", said Aziraphale in a soft voice, thinking of the file Anathema had given them. Judging by the collection of his works in that file, Crowley had more than made an impression.

Crowley ducked his head and fiddled with the glass kept in front of him, as though not very used to being praised - which was quite unfathomably surprising to Aziraphale.

Gabriel cleared his throat, and Aziraphale was brought back to the room, remembering that there were other people around.

"So, what say we get started on this thing? Why don't the two of you setup in the meeting room, and I'll join you guys in around an hour? I have some documents to send across."

Aziraphale looked up at Gabriel, surprised. As a rule, Gabriel always attended the first meeting of any project they did, always. And he wanted Aziraphale to start the discussion without him?

Gabriel looked back at him steadily. The sparkle of mischief in his eyes was surely Aziraphale's imagination, right?

Surely. It had to be.

But then Gabriel winked. He freaking winked.

Aziraphale blushed to the tips of his hair, and turned to Crowley.

"Shall we?" he asked politely, ignoring the thundering in his ears.

Crowley fortunately seemed to have noticed nothing, and gracefully got up from the chair in one fluid motion.

Aziraphale stared.

"After you", he said, with a little bow and a wave of his hand. Crowley's lips curved up in a smile as he waved at the others and walked out of the conference room, Aziraphale following behind him trying very hard not to stare at the sway of that delectable waist.

Yes. He really was in so much trouble.

Chapter Text

Eleven years ago, Crowley won't even have batted an eye at the mention of landscaping an estate. He had been a part of a large corporation where such projects were a very regular occurrence. Designing those projects and seeing his vision come to life over a period of few months was an undeniably enjoyable experience, but it was marred with too many unnecessary holdups. Though that did not last long, it had lasted long enough for him to permanently swear off working at such a place.

He had stayed there for five years, and when he finally left, it was like being tossed out in the cold with no anchor to tether him. He knew what he loved to do, though. So he started his own thing, taking up projects that mattered to him. It was a bit rocky at first, but things smoothed out over time, as they seem to do.

The call from Anathema had literally come out of nowhere. Crowley had been in the middle of his annual retreat to the mountains, a week long thing he did every year to just quieten his mind and get to grips with everything. No one had his contact number except for Michael, and Michael knew enough not to reach out during that week unless it was a matter of utmost importance. A personal invitation from the owner of one of the largest social enterprise on the continent apparently warranted the distinction.

Although his retreat had been cut short by two days, the conversation with Anathema Device was more than worth it as far as Crowley was concerned.

"So, Crowley, I have been following your work for quite sometime now", was the opening sentence she said to him the moment he sat down at her office. 

"Oh?", he was surprised, not the least because she had called him Crowley, not Anthony. 

"Yes. I happen to remember that you led the team that designed the entrance of this very office when my aunt was in charge, and now that I've taken over the company, I want to bring you in for one of my most ambitious projects. Interested?"

"Yeah, guess so. What's the project about?"

"All in due time. But there is a caveat. You won't be working solo on this. Since it is quite an undertaking, you would have to collaborate with another firm who will manage the execution. I need you to lead the design for this one."

Crowley was surprised. In the projects he had done so far, he had managed most of them solo, only occasionally getting some extra help from Beez and their group if he needed a few extra hands on the job. But getting into something which would be managed by another company? He had not had good experiences with corporations in the past, having the first hand experience how petty bureaucracy and underhanded agendas could undermine entire projects. He had seen plenty of that happen at his older occupation.

"Well, I usually work alone. Don't really like being tied up in other people's issues, you know?" hinted Crowley, hoping to get Anathema to let him work on this alone.

"I get it. Believe me, I get it. But this one is a bit too vast to be handled by just you", said Anathema, her voice understanding but still firm.

Crowley sighed.

"Okay, who am I going to be working with?"

Anathema grinned at him, suddenly appearing much younger in her excitement.

"Eden. I believe you have heard of them?"
Of course. 

"I might have", said Crowley just to be contradictory. Anathema snorted.

"Oh come off it! What do you say?"

"Hmm, not really a fan of the stuck up ones there, but doesn't look like I have much choice, do I?"

"You might be surprised, Crowley. Keep an open mind?"

Crowley was a bit taken aback at the earnestness in her voice, but he nodded politely.

"Perfect! I'll give you their address, you go meet them today at four in the evening, okay? Ask to meet Gabriel. He owns it."

"Gabriel. Got it", said Crowley distractedly. He knew why he recognized Eden, apart from it being one of the most well-known landscaping organizations in his line of work. And he recognized the name Gabriel, though he had never met the person.  

But he HAD met (not really met, though) someone from Eden who had left a permanent mark on him. It was weirdly unsettling, and Crowley tried not to think too much of it, but it was always there in the back of his mind - the strangely alluring speaker he had heard at that eventful conference three years ago. 

He had been dragged to the event by his best friend Michael, who was a lawyer. Michael represented most of the companies who were present at the conference, and he had taken Crowley along for an evening of networking.

Ugh. As if he had any interest left in networking with anybody on the corporate side of this industry. But Michael had insisted it would be good for him, so he found himself standing outside the presentation hall.

The screen displayed the topic - 'Representation - what and why' by Gabriel Archer, owner of Eden Landscaping.

"Really, Michael? The owner of Eden talking about representation? It's a goddamn joke. Have you looked at their designs - they are all the same. Representation, hah!"

Crowley scoffed, and Michael scowled at him.

"Come on man, don't make me go alone. I am obligated to attend this one, they are my newest client. Please?"

Grudgingly, Crowley nodded. Michael may be irritating at times with things like this but he always went along with all of Crowley's crazy ideas. Guess he owed him the same courtesy.

"All right. But if it gets boring I'm gonna sneak out", he warned.

Michael smiled a lopsided smile and ushered him into the room. Crowley made a beeline for the last row, but Michael pulled him along to sit in a row somewhere in the middle of the hall. Effectively cutting off all escape routes. Crowley glared at him and Michael grinned back.

Unfair. Bloody unfair.

Sitting down with a thump, Crowley prepared himself for a tedious hour ahead. The speaker, Gabriel, had not yet arrived on stage, so people were talking amongst themselves, and Crowley busied himself looking around the hall with a disinterested expression.

A few minutes later, the sound system crackled to life and a hush fell across the crowd as a man walked up on the stage. 

Crowley had been looking sideways at the door so he missed the man's entry, but there was no missing the voice that came over the speakers.

"Hello, everyone. Unfortunately, Gabriel is unavailable today. I shall be presenting on his behalf."

Crowley's eyes immediately snapped up to the stage.

Holy -

What. A. Voice.

Deep, silky, rich and utterly mesmerizing. Posh without sounding overcompensating. Wonderfully decadent but without any hint of impropriety.

Good heavens, who was this -

And then he really looked at the man himself.

Fucking hell.

Every nerve ending in Crowley's body alighted as he stared at the man, his face clearly magnified on the screen behind him on the stage. 

He was surreal - immensely beautiful with a shock of white-blonde curls framing an impossibly arresting face. He looked to be around the same age as Crowley, though he might be a year or two older. His face could be described as almost cherubic, but there was an exotic allure to it. As he moved around on the stage, Crowley almost blushed as he took in the sight in front of him. Strong, solid thighs which made his heart skip a beat, an old-school ring on his right pinkie finger which for some unfathomable reason looked insanely sexy, a fucking bow-tie and a waistcoat which should look completely out of place but somehow suited him so well that Crowley's breath caught in his throat.

He moved with sure, measured steps (none of the slinking around that Crowley did) which highlighted the shape of his thighs through his trousers. There was a quiet confidence in his movements and gestures which was doing something to Crowley. The way those fingers curled around the mike was causing some really, really inappropriate thoughts to crop up in his head. God, just the thought of having those strong, sure hands on his waist, gripping him, holding him down -

Easy there! 

It really had been too goddamn long since his last tryst.

That's all. That's all to it, he thought a bit hysterically. Why else would be be reacting so strongly to someone he had just seen two minutes ago?

Crowley surreptitiously crossed his legs, trying to stave off an embarrassing hint of arousal. 

Holy fuck, who is this guy?

"I am Aziraphale", said the man, smiling slightly. The smile made his face softer, and even more beautiful somehow. And then he looked straight up into the camera, and his eyes came into clear focus.

If Crowley had not been already sitting down, his knees would have buckled.

The man had the most otherworldly, ethereal blue eyes he had ever seen in his entire fucking life. He could spend hours, days, just looking at the sheer beauty of those eyes.

Crowley stared, unnerved. How was this man real?

Aziraphale continued to speak, and Crowley continued to stare, transfixed.

Aziraphale's talk was a completely unexpected surprise. He spoke of beauty in art, the joy of seeing a landscape take shape, the wonder of watching something beautiful bloom over a piece of barren land, and how important it was that the garden reflect the spirit of the place where it was growing. Crowley had never heard of the work being described so poetically in tones of awe as Aziraphale seemed to be doing. Add to it the velvety tone of his voice, and the sheer command he had over his words, and Crowley just knew that he would be thinking about this one hour a long long time after it was over.

The man seemed to somehow be talking directly to Crowley with his description of what he believed representation to be. His thoughts resonated eerily well with Crowley's own, and it was frightening how deeply his words were affecting Crowley. It had been years since he had been affected by anything or anyone, but sitting here, listening to Aziraphale, he felt something subtly shift inside himself. 

Crowley had, somewhere along the way over the last few years, lost touch with his 'why'. His 'why' for creating, his 'why' for existing, even. But slowly, he could feel the pieces coming back together, pulled out of the void by the words of a man who would probably never know how profoundly he was impacting Crowley. 

When the talk ended an hour later, Crowley could scarcely believe that the time was over. Aziraphale smiled at the crowd and politely thanked them for their patient listening. Crowley sat there, feeling weirdly emotional and unsettled and unexpectedly horny. 

What in God's name just happened? 

Is this what they call an awakening?

Crowley snorted. His inner voice could be so unnecessarily dramatic at times. 

Ignoring the plethora of uncomfortable feelings and his racing heart, he turned to Michael.

"Well, that was interesting", he drawled, feeling thankful for his sunglasses which obscured most of his facial expressions.

"He was quite good, wasn't he?", said Michael enthusiastically.

"Yeah, didn't expect it", said Crowley truthfully. "Who is he, anyway? I mean, he mentioned his name but not how he is associated with Eden." 

"Oh, Az is one of the owners too. He is Gabriel's younger brother."

"That guy owns Eden?" 

Crowley couldn't keep the disbelief out of his voice. Aziraphale seemed to have a bit too much soul to be associated with such a soulless corporation. 

"Yeah, he rarely comes into the public eye, though. He manages the execution of every project they undertake. Very smart, insanely resourceful and extremely intelligent."

Huh.

"But I still can't believe he owns Eden. He looks like he would be much more at home owning a bookshop of rare books or an exotic flower shop or something", muttered Crowley, feeling an odd sense of loss at the knowledge that Aziraphale was so deeply embedded in the entire corporate cog. Though he could not really pinpoint exactly why he was feeling this way.

Michael chuckled at that. Crowley gave him an odd look. 

"No, it's funny. I have met Az few times both in his office and outside, and I have always gotten the sense that although he is extremely good at what he does, he really wasn't made to be doing this. Funny that you got it right without even meeting the guy."

Crowley decided not to react on that. This was already weird enough without the thought of somehow being magically attuned to Aziraphale and that too having never met him.

Weird. Definitely.

"Just a vibe," shrugged Crowley. Michael gave him a knowing look but did not speak any further. 

Thank someone for small mercies. 

Crowley had wondered the rest of the day if he should try to approach Aziraphale and talk to him, but he was pretty sure that someone at his position would have absolutely no interest in talking to a washed up eccentric designer like himself. Once or twice he caught himself having conversations in his head, thinking of what he could talk to Aziraphale about. By the time the conference ended a few hours later, Crowley had finished atleast twenty different conversations with Aziraphale - none of them actually with Aziraphale, of course. 

Okay, this is what losing my mind looks like. 

He was disappointed to note that Aziraphale seemed to have left the conference. Even though Crowley hadn't yet made up his mind, it was still a bummer to know that now he didn't even have the chance to speak to the man. Sure, he could ask Michael for an introduction, but somehow he didn't want to do that. He didn't want to meet Aziraphale in a professional setting. 

That was then, and this was today - when Crowley was most probably going to meet him at Eden's office, most definitely in a professional setting.

And he'd have to act like he hadn't spent the last three years hoarding scraps of information about Aziraphale Archer - scouring news articles, mentions from Michael, and any and every clip of a public appearance he could get his hands on (a woefully small number, he had seen every one of those clips far too many times to be healthy).

Even worse, he'd have to hide his painfully obvious physical reactions to seeing Aziraphale. There was just something about him that got Crowley feeling all unsettled and breathy - he'd definitely need to be careful about this particular aspect of his infatuation.

Simple enough. No big deal.

This ought to be interesting.

Chapter Text

The meeting rooms were on the fifth floor, so they had to take the elevator. As soon as the elevator doors closed, Aziraphale suddenly registered that he was in a small, enclosed space, alone with the heart-stoppingly beautiful Anthony Crowley.

And his heart did feel like it was about to stop any minute now. There were voices yelling inside his head, clamoring to barrel the other man with questions upon questions and he had to physically restrain himself from letting all his eagerness spill out in waves.

You are AJ?

You are the one whose creations brought me back to life?

How the fuck are you so insanely gorgeous? -

No. No. Get a grip. Get. A. Grip. 

Aziraphale scolded himself, chastised himself and then mentally cajoled himself to please, please keep quiet and NOT RUIN THIS -

"Didn't you use to have a bowtie?" Crowley asked suddenly, halting Aziraphale's mental screeching in its tracks.

"I am sorry, what?" Aziraphale was utterly perplexed. How in heaven's name did this man know about his bowtie? They were meeting for the first time, for crying out loud.

Crowley shifted on his feet looking slightly discomfited, and a lovely blush rose up his cheeks.

Aziraphale could only stare.

"Um, well I saw it once at a talk", mumbled Crowley, avoiding Aziraphale's eyes and looking like he wholeheartedly regretted asking the question.

If he was being honest, Crowley would have said that he had seen it at the talk as well as in all the videos (all three of them, that is) he had obsessively watched over and over - and he might have developed a tiny (insignificant, really) attachment to the item, so much so that he noticed right away in the downstairs conference room that Aziraphale's bowtie was missing. 

But there was no need for Aziraphale to know this, now was there?

Before Aziraphale could reply to this odd pronouncement, the elevator beeped. They had reached the fifth floor.

Crowley bolted out of the elevator as soon as the door opened, but then he seemed to realise that he had no idea where he needed to go. With a sheepish grin, he turned back towards the elevator. Aziraphale still looked slightly confused but he walked out the elevator gracefully with sure, measured steps, and Crowley was once again enamored by the casual confidence in Aziraphale's movements.

Trying not to stare too obviously, Crowley followed Aziraphale as the other man led the way to one of the meeting rooms at the end of the hall. Aziraphale was wearing a smartly fitted suit (without his bowtie, as Crowley had not so helpfully pointed out moments ago), and the way his back filled out the fabric looked just oh so good. There was again the inexplicable rush of almost instant attraction which Crowley had felt that day at the talk, and seeing Aziraphale from so up close, not on a distant stage, was a very different kind of pleasure. Crowley had always liked beautiful things, and Aziraphale may very well be one of the most beautiful ones he had encountered yet.

When he had first stepped inside the building this morning, he had been a bundle of nerves. And upon seeing Aziraphale in that conference room, it had taken every ounce of Crowley's self control not to falter over his words and maintain a cool facade. His sunglasses helped in that regard, but it was very difficult to take his eyes off the only man he wanted to see. When he noticed that the collar of Aziraphale's shirt was unbuttoned, he swallowed dryly. Why the hell was he even noticing all these tiny details and already mentally cataloging everything about the other man for later perusal at his leisure?

Like how Aziraphale's eyes had warmed all the way through when he had greeted Crowley like a dear old friend. It made his nerves tingle - hearing his own name in that marvelously rich voice was already doing things to him, but then Aziraphale had to go and add on the 'my dear' at the end of his greeting. Crowley's overactive imagination immediately presented him five different scenarios of Aziraphale saying those two words in very different contexts, and he had to hastily shut off that train of thought.

Nope. Not going there.

"Here we are", announced Aziraphale, opening the glass door and ushering Crowley inside. It was a tastefully decorated place, slightly at odds with the other areas in the office. This place seemed to have a bit more life in it, if Crowley had to sum it up.

"Nice place", he commented, taking a seat.

There were quite a few plants strewn about and a few beautiful paintings adorning the wall of various landscapes. One in particular stood out for him.

"Hang on-", Crowley got up, unable to believe what he was seeing. Was it one of his own designs? Hanging on the wall of a meeting room in Eden?

"Ah, yes." For the first time Aziraphale sounded slightly unsure of himself.

"That one was my addition", he said in a quiet voice.

Crowley's mind was still processing the fact that his work was prominently displayed here, and it took him a few seconds to register what Aziraphale had said. When he did register the words, his jaw fell open.

Aziraphale was not sure what made him admit the fact that he had put up that painting on the wall, but something in him wanted Crowley to know that he had seen his work before and admired it from afar for a long time, even though he had not actually known that it was Crowley's work before today morning.

When Crowley did not respond for several long seconds, Aziraphale felt that he might have made a mistake in saying this. After all, this also meant admitting that he had read and seen all of the blogs by AJ, and liked them enough to do this, and he wasn't sure what Crowley would do with that information. 

Mercifully, Crowley looked up at him, and there was a mischievious twinkle in his eye when he spoke.

"I see I have a fan here", he said in a teasing tone, though there was a slight undercurrent of uncertainty behind his words. 

Aziraphale was surprised, and excitement exploded in the pit of his stomach. This was confirmation from the man himself about his online personality, and Aziraphale was ridiculously happy to hear it.

Aziraphale gave him a wry smile.

"A painting hardly counts as me being a fan. It was beautiful, so I put it up".

Aziraphale had to try to regain some measure of an upper hand in the conversation, else he knew it would quite possibly delve into him gushing all about how much he adored Crowley's work.

"Perhaps, but this is quite obscure, I believe. Wherever did you find it?" Crowley asked in a deliberately off-handed voice, and Aziraphale knew he was definitely being teased now.

He decided to turn the tables.

"How about this? You tell me where you saw my bowtie, I'll tell you where I got the painting."

It was a gamble, Aziraphale knew. Crowley had already said that he had seen him at a talk, and given that the only talk he had spoken at had been three years ago, Aziraphale already had a fair inkling that Crowley may have attended that. Although how Aziraphale managed to miss this incandescent man sitting in the audience was beyond him. And the fact that Crowley remembered such an intimate detail three years later was a whole other matter in itself - and the way this information made Aziraphale's pulse race was troubling, to say the least.

On the other hand, confessing that he had found the painting off the blog would be telling quite a big truth about himself. The fact that he was one of the owners of an establishment like Eden, who secretly loved the very non-Eden-like work of an immensely talented creator - it would definitely be frowned upon by the rest of his family, if not outright ridiculed.

Ah, there it was again - that enticingly lovely blush blooming across Crowley's cheeks. Aziraphale never could have imagined himself feeling so ridiculously attracted to the sight of someone blushing, but Anthony Crowley had been turning all his expectations on the head today.

He realized that this was the second time Crowley had blushed in as many mentions of that talk. Clearly this meant something to him, and Aziraphale was instantly curious, eager to know more.

Oh dear God, he thought to himself. He was getting dangerously enamored with this gorgeous red-head rather quickly, wasn't he?

"My friend had dragged me to this conference, and there was a talk by Gabriel on representation. Only, it wasn't Gabriel who came on the stage, it was you."

Aziraphale's breath caught at the simple admission in Crowley's words. He sounded so sincere, like that evening was a fond memory for him. Like he might have revisited that memory again and again on several occasions. 

Oh dear. 

Aziraphale decided to deflect the sudden jolt of longing he felt with some self deprecating humour. 

"Ah, I see my bowtie made an impression", he chuckled, trying to hide his sudden nervousness. 

And why in the name of God was he feeling shy all of a sudden? 

"Not just your bowtie."

There was a beat of silence. Crowley gazed at Aziraphale, his eyes trailing across the exposed skin at the collar, then moving up to look straight into Aziraphale's eyes. But to his dismay, he couldn't see those lovely eyes clearly enough through the sunglasses, so in a rare move he removed his sunglasses and folded them into his pocket. 

Aziraphale's eyes widened as they looked at each other, the moment frozen in time, Crowley's soft confession hanging in the air like a sparkling mist.

Crowley hadn't yet properly appreciated the immeasurable loveliness of Aziraphale, but now he was basking in it.

Aziraphale, for his part, was trying his hardest to calm his racing heart. Crowley without the glasses was a sight to behold. His entire face looked so open, so expressive that Aziraphale itched to compose sonnets in praise of the perfection in front of him. And those eyes, oh those absolutely otherworldly eyes of his. Warm honey, melted gold, beautiful ambers, bright sunny days - everything coalesced together to form the breathtaking gorgeousness that was Crowley's eyes.

Crowley cleared his throat, and then he lowered his eyes. 

No! Let me see -

Aziraphale barely stopped himself from saying the words out loud. He also barely stopped himself from putting a finger under Crowley's chin to gently lift his face up and gaze at him. Perhaps run his thumb across the chiseled jaw, feel the texture of Crowley's skin under his own -

Where did that urge come from?

In an attempt to defuse the suddenly, unexpectedly charged atmosphere, Aziraphale repeated Crowley's words back at him. 

"I see I have a fan here."

Crowley snorted at that, and just like that the moment returned back to normal. 

"Don't get all witty with me, angel", he chuckled and then immediately shut up. 

Fuck. Oh fuck.

This is why you should not speak without thinking, you absolute numpty.

The problem was, ever since he had seen Aziraphale up on the stage, he had been having trouble with getting the image of those blonde curls shining like a halo out of his head. Not to mention that the words he had spoken that day had been so heartfelt and kind, that Crowley had somehow started referring to him as 'angel' in his head.  A perfectly harmless quirk, but definitely not something meant to be shared so openly.

And then there was the fact that Aziraphale was just so much better in person. That cherubic face was much more pronounced, the quiet confidence held some kind of stance of a guardian angel standing tall for what was right, and that quick wittiness hinted at some hidden, delightful bastardy under the soft looking exterior. Crowley was charmed, and he had let his guard down.

Aziraphale raised an elegant eyebrow at him.

"Angel?", he asked, mouth turning up a bit at the corners as though he was trying to suppress an amused smile.

"Well, you do work at Eden, so..", Crowley trailed off, hoping Aziraphale won't bring up anything related to Gabriel, who also worked at Eden and was named for the Archangel himself. Much like his friend Michael. Whom Crowley had never called 'angel' in his life.

Oh, well.

Might as well roll with it.

Aziraphale just shook his head fondly (fondly? God, Crowley was so done for) and smiled as if he was hiding a secret.

"So, I told you. Now your turn", said Crowley, looking at Aziraphale expectantly.

He wasn't changing the subject, no sir. 

"Hm, since you were so truthful, I might as well do the same. I got this from a blog post I read years ago", replied Aziraphale in the same sincere tone that Crowley had used earlier, looking straight into Crowley's eyes, his expression unreadable. 

Crowley's brain nearly short circuited at this knowledge. Aziraphale had read his blog? Liked his work? Liked it enough to put it up in his office, for fuck's sake. 

Oh for all that's holy -

And all this when Aziraphale himself was the reason why that blog existed in the first place -

"And this wasn't the only one there, though this is one of my absolute favourites", continued Aziraphale, and Crowley felt he may collapse anytime now from the sheer surreality of this. 

Aziraphale seemed to be searching for words, which was strange to see on him, but it was an endearing sight. 

"You see, there is this lovely creator, AJ, whose work has been a spark of joy in my otherwise predictable life for the last three years", said Aziraphale in a measured tone, but his eyes were shimmering with some unnamed emotion. 

"Oh?", choked out Crowley. He was incapable of being any more articulate than that right now. 

Aziraphale hmmed in assent, and his eyes warmed once more. It was a piercing kind of pleasure to be on the receiving end of Aziraphale's warmth, thought Crowley. He had a feeling he might be getting dangerously addicted to it having experienced it just twice. 

"I never would have imagined I would get to meet them in person, much less get the opportunity to work together."

Aziraphale smiled at him then, and it was like a sun had lit him up from within. That smile alone could light up an entire goddamned city for one whole night.

"Ngk", croaked Crowley, his words still lost somewhere in the ether of disbelief.

Aziraphale's smile dimmed slightly. 

"Are you quite all right, dear?", he asked, placing a concerned hand over Crowley's arm. 

He had unthinkingly moved closer to Crowley, and only then it registered how intimate their current stance was - Aziraphale holding Crowley's arm, their chests just a few inches apart. 

Aziraphale's gaze involuntarily roamed over Crowley's face, not able to get enough of him. His eyes came to a stop on those soft looking lips again, wondering how they would feel under his thumb, how they would feel pressed up against his own lips, and then pressed up against other parts of himself. 

As if to answer his unspoken question, Crowley licked his lips, and heat shot through Aziraphale.

F-fuck-

His grip tightened marginally on Crowley's arm, and the other man trembled lightly, his eyelashes fluttering a few times rapidly.

Aziraphale hungrily took in the sight in front of himself. Crowley was so, so beautiful like this. 

But then he suddenly realised that this could be considered extremely, extremely unprofessional - they did have to work together after all - and he hastily stepped back out of Crowley's personal space. 

Crowley seemed to be slightly dazed as he refocused, and Aziraphale filed that information to the back of the mind, which he would probably analyse and overanalyze later in the evening. But for now, Crowley steadied himself and replied.

"Yep. All good."

"I'm glad to hear that", said Aziraphale, striving to keep his time neutral.

Crowley gave him a lopsided grin. 

"See, I told you - I have a fan here".

Aziraphale rolled his eyes good naturedly and grinned back at the unexpected man.

"Oh hush, you fiend."

Crowley just grinned wider.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale shook his head again in amusement and took a seat. They really ought to discuss something related to work before Gabriel came to join them.

Apparently, Crowley seemed to have come to the same conclusion as he sat down as well.

"As much fun as this is, do you think we should talk about the project?"

Aziraphale sighed. He would really much rather talk to Crowley about Crowley, but needs must.

"I suppose so. I believe Anathema gave you a briefing on what it is all about?"

"Yep. Got the rundown. Gotta say, she can be extremely convincing when she really wants something done."

"No wonder. She'd have to be able to get things done, won't she? Youngest director that company has ever seen, it couldn't have been easy managing such a challenging role as well as she has."

Crowley nodded, thinking back to Anathema's earnest words.
"You might be surprised, Crowley. Keep an open mind?"

And surprised he had been. Surprised by Aziraphale, surprised by their entire conversation.

Huh, maybe she had been onto something.

"Agreed. Nearly bullied me into taking up this project", he chuckled.

Aziraphale looked up at him with a keen glance.

"Oh, you did not want to take this up?" he asked, his voice too even. There was a slight hint of apprehension in that smooth voice which Crowley may or may not have imagined.

Some deep buried intuition told Crowley to be very careful about what he said next. He had definitely been apprehensive about this, but he had no idea how Aziraphale would take to that sentiment. And now he was so thoroughly looking forward to this project (all because of Aziraphale), that it would be extremely obvious why he changed his mind - if he said he hadn't wanted to do this in the first place. It would give away a bit too much.

"I wasn't very sure I would be a welcome addition", he replied in a neutral tone.

There. That was diplomatic enough, right?

Aziraphale's stare was still a bit too keen, and Crowley could only imagine what was going through his head. It was extremely obvious that Crowley was too different from what could be expected out of an Eden project, and Aziraphale surely knew that.

"You are a marvelous addition, Crowley. I'm glad you decided to do this."

The absolute conviction in Aziraphale's voice shook Crowley to his core. It was such an easy, effortless acceptance - no, it was more than that, so much more. It was gratitude, it was praise, it was admiration -

Aziraphale's voice was so much deeper when he said Crowley's name that it sent a delicious shiver down his spine. And the way he was looking at him right now - appreciatively, there really was no other word for it - with that shimmering smolder in his eyes?

Crowley was suddenly finding it a bit difficult to breathe.

How did the simplest moments end up being so charged between them?

There was a knock on the door, and they both turned around to look. Aziraphale smoothed his hands over his trousers, his heart beating a bit too fast once more - as it had been doing for most of the conversation with Crowley.

What was it about the other man that was making him feel so inexplicably off-balance? He couldn't remember the last time he had been so openly truthful about anything, with anyone.

"Ah, there you guys are! Having a good chat?", asked Gabriel, coming in and closing the door behind himself. 

"Yes, all good", replied Aziraphale. As Gabriel took a seat, Aziraphale noticed that Crowley pulled out his sunglasses and put them on again.

Oh. Interesting.

"So, how do we go about this? I was thinking today we could get Crowley to meet the project team, and once the entire document of the requirement details comes from Ana - which should be no later than today evening - we can plan out the execution in further meetings. What say, Aziraphale?"

"Yes, that would do well", agreed Aziraphale, and Crowley also nodded along.

"Wonderful! So, we'll be having Muriel to liaise with Ana's company, Eric's team for managing vendors and the ground execution, you for overseeing the entire project, and of course, Crowley for the design. I have put in a word with Michael to have a look at the contracts and the paperwork, he is coming tomorrow so you can have a talk with him too, Az."

Crowley suddenly perked up at the mention of Michael, and Aziraphale turned to look at him, surprised.

"Michael's gonna be a part of this too?" asked Crowley a bit incredulously.

His surprise was mirrored in Gabriel's face.

"You know Michael?"

"Yes, he's my oldest mate, went to college with him."

"My friend had dragged me to this conference-"

Was Michael this friend? If so, Aziraphale might have to gift him a bottle of vintage wine for getting Crowley to that talk. The talk he wasn't even supposed to be giving - the only reason he himself was there was a sudden change in Gabriel's plans.

He did not believe in fate per se, but this was seeming to be a bit too - ineffable, if he may call it that.

It really was a small world indeed.

"Ah, that's so nice. I hope you'll have a good time working with us", smiled Gabriel.

Crowley looked at Aziraphale then, quite deliberately, and replied with the same conviction he had heard in Aziraphale's voice earlier.

"I am sure I will."

They spent a few more minutes discussing some details that Anathema had mentioned to Gabriel, and then Gabriel got a call from Sandy. Someone from the board had come to meet him, so Gabriel bade them goodbye and told them to go meet the others. 

Aziraphale led Crowley to Eric's office first. To his surprise, Muriel was already there. Gabriel might have sent them ahead.

"Hello Eric, Muriel. How are you both today?", greeted Aziraphale, with Crowley trailing behind him. Eric looked up from his desk where he had been rummaging through some papers and grinned at him.

"Zira! My man! Come on in, take a seat."

He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk, and then his gaze fell upon Crowley.

"And who, pray, is this?" he asked, staring at Crowley in surprise. Aziraphale felt a sudden spike of protectiveness at Eric's tone - it wasn't exactly confrontational but it was clear that the guy was taken aback by Crowley's appearance.

Muriel gave Eric a significant look, and realization dawned on him.

"Oh, you must be Mr. Crowley, I believe?"

"You believe correctly", drawled Crowley, his tone far too amused.

Aziraphale suppressed a snort at the affected poshness in his tone - the teasing lilt to it was extremely obvious.

Eric seemed to realize this, and he ducked his head, looking slightly abashed.

"Sorry, just didn't expect -", mumbled Eric, and Aziraphale took pity on him.

"No matter. So, where are the others?"

"Oh, the Erics are just all out for lunch, they should be back soon. We stayed because Gabriel said you might be coming to meet us", said Muriel.

"Erics?", interrupted Crowley, sounding confused. "I thought you were Eric", he continued, pointing at the man in question.

"Oh, he is! But we call his entire team Erics, because they are all mostly temps and they get replaced every week so it's difficult to keep everyone's names straight. And they mostly go everywhere together, so we gave them all a collective name", explained Muriel.

Crowley stared at them for a moment, and then he giggled.

He actually, goddamn giggled.

It was a carefree, mischievous sound, and Aziraphale was completely unprepared for how it would make him feel to hear that. He lost his train of thoughts for quite some moments, and by the time he came to grips with himself the others had already made some small talk. Crowley turned to him once more.

"Well, I guess I'll meet the Erics tomorrow? I will come down with Michael, so we can all meet up?"

Aziraphale reigned in his unruly thoughts and focused on Crowley's question.

"Yes, splendid. Nice meeting you both, we will catch up tomorrow", he said to Muriel and Eric.

As they made there way out of the office, Aziraphale heard Eric whisper to Muriel - "I get it now, he does dress like a murder hornet."

"So, what do you want to do now?", asked Crowley as they reached the elevators. He did not want his time with Aziraphale to end, and he wondered if he could somehow tempt the man to come out for a coffee with him. Or perhaps lunch. It was lunch time anyways, might as well see if he could get a date with the angel.

Okay, let's relax a bit maybe? You literally just met him today.

His inner voice could be annoyingly rational sometimes.

Aziraphale, who had been standing with his hands clasped behind his back as they waited for the elevator, made a thoughtful humming sound.

"Well, I do have a meeting in a couple of hours for which I have to prepare some notes. I was planning to get a quick cup of tea and a cookie from the canteen. How about you?"

Crowley's heart sank. But then he perked up.

"There is a pretty decent looking coffee shop right across the road, you know? I'd bet they serve tea and cookies too", said Crowley, working very hard to keep his tone casual.

"Ooh, I've been there a few times, they make the most delicious little eccles cakes! That would be lovely, so much better than the canteen", said Aziraphale, looking quite enthusiastic about these eccles cakes. Crowley tried to hold back a fond smile. The man looked adorable in his excitement.

"All right then", he said, secretly thrilled.

The coffee shop was cozy and intimate, and Aziraphale led Crowley to one of the tables near the back of the shop. It was quieter there, away from the counter, and Crowley's heart thumped. This was starting to seem quite a lot like a date -

Oh, will you relax? Just two guys out for coffee - no date.

Aziraphale took the seat opposite Crowley and gave a happy little wiggle. Crowley's long legs were sprawled around, and the toe of his right boot rested against Aziraphale's chair. He had not realized they would be sitting that close - the table was small and their chairs were quite close together.

Ignoring the sudden dryness in his throat, Crowley pushed the menu towards Aziraphale.

"Oh, I already know what I'll have", said Aziraphale, handing him back the menu and waving at the dark-haired lady behind the counter.

She made her way to their table and smiled widely at Aziraphale.

"Mr. Archer! It's been too long since we saw you here."

"Ah, yes. My apologies, Nina, I have been very busy these last few weeks. This is Crowley, he is working with us on a project", he added, gesturing to Crowley.

Nina turned to look at him with a smile.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Crowley. What can I get you?"

"Any coffee would do, as long as it's low on the milk", said Crowley, not really planning on spending much time deciding on what to drink. He would much rather spend that time talking to Aziraphale.

"I see, would it be okay if I surprise you?", asked Nina, an amused glint in her eyes.

"Sure, why not. Would be happy to have what the barista recommends", replied Crowley with a wide grin.

"Perfect. And for you, Mr. Archer? The usual?"

"Yes, please. Chamomile today, perhaps? Brewed for precisely three -"

"- three minutes with one spoon of sugar added in the end, got it", chuckled Nina, effortlessly finishing the sentence.

Aziraphale chuckled, and Nina left to get their drinks.

"Wow, that was oddly specific", said Crowley, picking up his glass of water and taking a sip.

Aziraphale gave him a lopsided smile.

"Well, I am a man of specific tastes", he said in a relaxed tone, and Crowley stared at him. The way Aziraphale said it -

Was he still talking about the tea?

Aziraphale did not say anything after that, but he was looking straight at Crowley, and Crowley had to fight the urge to squirm in his seat. It felt good to be pinned by Aziraphale's stare. Too good.

He decided to throw out a bait, see if it landed. If what he thought Aziraphale was hinting at was anywhere close to the fact.

"Uh-huh, didn't expect you'd be a control freak", he said, taking another sip of water.

There. Bait cast.

A series of expressions flitted across Azirapahle's face, too quick for Crowley to catch them all, though he did see a hint of amusement and something else, something that made his heartbeat quicken -

"My dear, you have no idea."

The words were said in such a deliciously decadent tone - though Aziraphale's expression remained neutral - that Crowley had to subtly readjust his sitting position. His denims didn't have too much give, which might fast become a problem if Aziraphale continued further down this path that Crowley had unwittingly set them on.

He was so insanely grateful for his sunglasses right now. If Aziraphale had been looking directly at him, he wasn't sure how well he would be able to resist the urge to practically moan out loud.

Oh for all that's holy, how was Aziraphale so impossibly hot? Most of the times today he had been sweet, kind and not to mention extremely gorgeous, but then at times he would say something that just made Crowley want to drop down to his knees in front of the man and stay right there.

Fuck.

"Here's your coffee, Mr. Crowley. I hope you like it".

Nina was back, and the moment dissipated, with Crowley reeling from what Aziraphale had almost confirmed in that alluring voice of his.

Blinking rapidly, Crowley turned to her, thanking her for the drink. She placed a plate of small round cakes in front of Aziraphale, and then turned to leave.

Crowley picked up his coffee and drank half of it in one gulp.

It was scalding, but it tasted good, and he decided he might make this his usual, too.

Aziraphale, meanwhile, had picked up his fork and was spearing one of the cakes with it. The earlier expression was gone, but Crowley could still see a hint of it in his mind's eye.

Crowley drank the other half of his coffee at a much more sensible speed, and he was on his second sip when he heard Aziraphale moan softly.

Looking up so fast that he almost cricked his neck, Crowley saw Aziraphale savoring the bite of cake he had taken. His eyes were closed, and his nostrils flared slightly as he swallowed, and a low hum resonated from his throat. The sound was so absolutely salacious, the expression on Aziraphale's face so satisfied, that Crowley almost blushed. It felt too intimate to be seeing Aziraphale like this, as though he was getting his pleasure not from the food, but from something else entirely.

This, coupled with the earlier statement Aziraphale had said, was more than enough to get Crowley rock hard in a matter of seconds.

Oh, damn.

And then Aziraphale took another bite. Crowley could only stare. Aziraphale's throat moved as he swallowed, and the sight of it exposed by the unbuttoned collar made Crowley feel warm all over. The soft groans continued, and Crowley could not stop himself - under no circumstances could he stop himself - from imagining Aziraphale make these sounds in a very, very different context. Perhaps much louder and more indulgent than this, even.

Damn. Damn.

The next few minutes were an exquisite torture. Aziraphale had opened his eyes a couple of times and smiled, but that only served to get Crowley more worked up as he looked at those beautiful eyes, imagining those eyes looking down into his own as Crowley knelt -

Fuck.

Once he was done, Aziraphale set down his fork and picked up the napkin, daintily dabbing at his mouth. It was such a contrast to what he had been doing just a few seconds before, that Crowley felt he may just lose his mind.

How could someone dabbing a napkin be so distracting?

"Ah, that was scrumptious", said Aziraphale in an immensely satisfied voice.

Crowley could only nod. Nina came around with Aziraphale's tea, and they finished their drinks, making some small talk about the coffee shop and their plans for the next day. 

All Crowley could think about, though, was that if this was what a simple coffee outing had done to him, a lunch with the man might just get him killed.

He could not think of a better way to die, though.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale asked Nina to add the meal to his tab, and made to stand up. It really had been immensely enjoyable, the cakes were delicious and the company even more so.

When he had very deliberately hinted at his specific tastes, wondering if Crowley would get the reference, he had been pleased to see that Crowley seemed to have picked up on exactly what he was talking about. He was even more pleased when Crowley had asked the innuendo laden question about his preference for control, and he was absolutely sure Crowley liked his answer. It was clear in the way the other man had been almost squirming in his seat.

Aziraphale was adept enough at reading when someone was trying to regain their composure, and Crowley was showing every sign of being on the verge of losing his. 

This was a very dangerous path for their conversation to go in, but the thrill of it was undeniably seductive.

As soon as Nina left with a smile and a thanks, Aziraphale realized a bit too late that he really wasn't in a position to stand right now. Their earlier conversation had caused some very interesting scenarios to run through his head - vaguely comprised of fiery red hair and a very enticing waist - and consequently his trousers were a bit too, ehm, revealing of his current headspace.

"Do you think we could visit the project site tomorrow? I like seeing the location of the project before I start something, helps me visualize better", asked Crowley suddenly, and Aziraphale was grateful for the question. It would allow him to get his mind and body under control enough to be able to stand and walk out of the cafe.

Crowley took off his sunglasses and rubbed at his eyes as he asked the question, making Aziraphale inhale sharply as Crowley's eyes came into view once more.

"Hm, I suppose so. Though I believe it is a one hour drive from here, so I will need to arrange a spare vehicle with an available driver", Aziraphale thought it over for a few moments, then continued. "No problem, I'll tell Eric to get it done."

There was a sudden grin on Crowley's face at this, and Aziraphale raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Driver not needed, I've got a car", he said, and there was a note of barely suppressed glee in his voice.

"Okay", said Aziraphale slowly, not very sure why Crowley was looking so enthusiastic, but deciding to go along with it for the moment.

"We could go right after the meeting with Michael, what say?"

Oh. Perhaps Crowley was excited for a day trip with his friend, quite possibly. He admonished himself for hastily jumping to the conclusion that Crowley looked that enthused to be spending the day with him.

You just met him today, what do you expect?

He sighed internally at his overly eager mind, and replied.

"Yes, that would be nice. It has been quite a few weeks since I spent some time with Michael, I could catch up with him too."

Crowley's enthusiasm suddenly dimmed, and his eyes lowered marginally. Aziraphale would never have caught the very subtle change in his expression if he had not been looking directly at him.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Michael. Cool", said Crowley in a series of disjointed words.

Was that - was that reaction because Crowley wanted to be alone with Aziraphale?

Aziraphale's heart thumped twice as he considered this. Throwing caution to the winds, he decided to take a chance.

"Or if he gets too caught up in the paperwork we could always go, the two of us? Anyway that might work better - I mean I am planning the project and you are designing it. So."

There were a few moments of silence as Crowley appeared to think it over. Aziraphale held his breath, feeling an odd mixture of apprehension and anticipation.

Suddenly, Crowley gave him a mischievous smile.

"Want me all to yourself, angel?"

F-

Aziraphale's heart may have stopped at the way Crowley worded the question, not to mention the extremely obvious interest in Crowley's golden gaze. Plus that subtle but noticeable emphasis on the word 'all'.

Fuck. Crowley really was temptation incarnate.

"Are you trying to tempt me?"

The words were out of his mouth before he could catch a hold of them.

"Just offering a ride", came the reply, along with an absolutely devastating smirk that would be the end of Aziraphale.

Oh dear Lord. The double entendre was not lost on Aziraphale, and he had to close his eyes for a moment to regain his composure.

Well, two could play this game. 

"I'm sure I'll enjoy it, my dear", he replied, his voice steady but heart thrumming an irregular beat.

Crowley choked on the water he had just taken a sip of. 

He coughed a couple of times, then composed himself.

Aziraphale sat up straighter and took an elegant sip of his own water.

Bastard.

"Good. 'kay then, let's go tomorrow", Crowley stuttered out.

He needed to put a stop to this direction of conversation before he spontaneously combusted from the untamed desire burning through him. The way Aziraphale's voice lowered and deepened whenever he said something not so innocent was fast becoming dangerously addictive. 

Aziraphale was fast becoming dangerously addictive. 

There were still some faint remnants of a beautiful, rosy blush on Aziraphale's cheeks from Crowley's earlier comment about offering a ride. The color looked lovely on him, and it had been so satisfying to get Aziraphale off kilter after his frankly arousing display of stoic confidence before.

Crowley could have happily spent the entire day here trading witty comments and thinly veiled insinuations with the other man, but he remembered that Aziraphale had a meeting he wanted to prepare for.

Aziraphale seemed to have realised the same thing. 

"Yes, that would be lovely. Shall we go back?" he asked, standing up.

Crowley nodded in agreement, and the two of them walked together till the entrance of the Eden office.

"I'm gonna get going then, see you tomorrow?" said Crowley.

"Most definitely. It was wonderful meeting you Crowley, I look forward to tomorrow", smiled Aziraphale.

"Same here, Aziraphale. See ya!"

Aziraphale watched as Crowley walked away, and then he turned and walked back to his office for a meeting he absolutely was in no mood for.

Aziraphale was supposed to focus on what he would be presenting at the weekly review meeting happening after an hour, but his mind was refusing to cooperate. He was too wired up, too enthralled by Anthony Crowley to focus on anything else. How the man was having such an affect of him after just a few hours in his company was unfathomable.

And then there was the 'angel' thing.

On principle, Aziraphale had never like nicknames. His name was a bit complex and long, so most of the people he knew would either shorten it to 'Az' or 'Zira', or use random nicknames like Gabriel's 'sunshine' and 'baby bro'. They were all well meaning and friendly, but Aziraphale had always preferred his own, full name. He rather liked the way it flowed.

So when Crowley had first called him 'angel', he was very surprised, but what was even more surprising was the fact that it did not tick him off the slightest bit.

In fact, he had quite liked it.

Which in itself was a very, very troubling sign.

Moreover, it was difficult for him to believe they were meeting today for the first time. They were so strangely in sync that they might as well have known each other for millenia.

This, for Aziraphale was quite an unexpected experience. To be fair, he had spent the last three years almost obsessively perusing the blog of the wonderful AJ, but it would not be very sensible to conflate Crowley's online persona with the man himself. If he was being honest with himself, he actually knew nothing about Crowley except that he was a very talented, extremely handsome man, and an absolute charmer who could get his heart racing with a few cleverly placed words and a striking golden gaze.

The attraction was there, undeniably. But underneath it all was the warmth he already felt for AJ, the connection he had felt when reading his posts - a camaraderie of sorts that this was a person whose thoughts and creations were very dear to Aziraphale.

No wonder he could not focus on anything. But he needed to get his thoughts in order. Sandy had earlier hinted that the meeting might be attended by someone from the Board, and in the morning Gabriel had already gone to meet someone who might be staying for this discussion as well. 

Aziraphale sighed once more. This was the most tedious part of his job which he often hoped would just go away. But that was not likely to happen, so he grit his teeth and got to the task.

After one hour of absolutely zero productivity (images of a certain redhead kept interrupting his thoughts and then those thoughts would veer into enticingly distracting directions), Aziraphale put down his pen and admitted that this may be a lost cause.

Might as well go get the meeting over with.

Gingerly making his way to the conference room, he was surprised to see Gabriel already there. It was rare to see Gabriel at the weekly reviews, but today seemed to be a special case.

He smiled at Gabriel and took a seat. Only then did he notice the addition to today's meeting.

Metatron.

His name wasn't really Metatron (it was Derek), but for some reason Aziraphale's dad had always addressed the man as such in front of Aziraphale, and he had gotten into the same habit. 

Derek smiled at Aziraphale, and Aziraphale greeted him with a polite nod and a smile of his own. He had never really felt too comfortable around the man. Derek was one of the largest investors of Eden, and the most influential member of the board. Even though the company was owned by the Archer family, Derek had enough sway to power the decisions taken by the company as a whole. Since the passing of Aziraphale's dad six years ago, he had taken up an even more central role in the management of the company.

Sandy and Sara filed into the room, followed by Eric and Muriel. None of them looked surprised to see Derek there.

Huh, perhaps Aziraphale had really missed the memo when it came to today's meeting.

Once they had all settled in, the regular discussions started. Gabriel kicked things off with the current status and overall progress of ongoing projects and potential new clients. The Anathema project was quite heavily focused on as a big achievement for the company, and when he mentioned that Aziraphale would be handling the entire project, not Sandy, Derek's eyebrows lifted up subtly. Aziraphale noted the reaction, though he wasn't sure anyone else noticed it. He felt a stirring of apprehension but decided to ignore it for now.

After this, Sandy and Sara discussed a bit about the challenges and blockers that were slowing down their work, and Derek offered some helpful pointers which were promptly made a note of by Muriel. Then it was Aziraphale's turn. Somehow, in a trance, he ran through his report as quickly as possible, and wrapped it up by reporting that all the current projects under his purview were right on track and being executed well within their timelines and budgets.

Metatron gave him a big smile at that, and Gabriel gave him a thumbs up.

"Very well, Aziraphale. Good work done, keep going", he said. Aziraphale thanked him, but somehow the praise felt perfunctory. It usually did when coming from the man.

"Wonderful!", boomed Gabriel. "So, you might be wondering what I am doing at the weekly review today, and Derek as well. This morning we were discussing the exciting new project we are starting with Anathema's company. And also the unusual partneship the client is expecting from us with regards to the design of the project."

Aziraphale again felt a slight apprehension at the subtle emphasis on the word 'partnership'. Surely he was talking about Crowley, but why would that be a big enough deal to warrant the appearance of Metatron?

"Yes, I got to understand the situation from Gabriel", said Metatron (Derek, quickly corrected Aziraphale in his mind).

"It is most unusual. Eden has always operated as an independent entity, with the foremost authority on the execution of every project we undertake. Outsourcing the critical parts of a project or outside collaborations have usually been frowned upon, because that signals to the world that we are not self-capable. However, Gabriel has appraised me of the situation, and assured me that this partnership was a defining term of the agreement with this particularly influential client. In the interest of the company, I have decided to allow it this time."

Metatron stopped and looked around at all of them with a serious look.

"I have not met this Anthony Crowley yet -"

The very subtle menace in Metatron's voice when he took Crowley's name made Aziraphale's hackles raise. That tone just rubbed him the wrong way.

" - but Gabriel has shown me his work. I must say, it is -"

Beautiful. Breathtaking. Extraordinary -

" - wild. Untamed. Not the sort of work we do at Eden. Too willful for our tastes. I'd expect the man to be nothing more. We just need to make sure he does not negatively impact the image of Eden in the industry."

Aziraphale stared at Metatron in shock. Such harsh words for someone he had never even met? Just because his creativity was something that Eden could never even have dreamt of? How could the decision maker of their company be so - so regressive?

Sandy snorted at Metatron's words, then quickly composed himself when the man turned to him with a questioning glance.

"Sorry, it's just - I agree with you. We met the guy this morning. Have to say, you have the correct measure of him, sir."

Aziraphale clenched his fists as Sandy continued in that sycophantic tone.

"To say that he doesn't fit in with our kind of place is an understatement. He looks downright demonic, with those infernal tattoos and the wild red hair, along with that punk gothic getup."

Sandy shuddered as though Crowley's design sense was a personal affront to him, and Metatron nodded thoughtfully.

Aziraphale could not believe this. All the things about Crowley which he liked, more than liked, were being thrown about as reasons to condemn him - his mind, his creativity, his originality, his beauty, everything. 

What the hell was wrong with these people?

"Just because you don't understand something doesn't make it inferior, Sandy - just different", he burst out in an incredulous voice.

No way in hell was he going to sit here and listen to Crowley get villified for no fault of his.

Sandy's eyes snapped to him, and Aziraphale almost recoiled at the hatred he saw there.
When had Sandy become so hateful of him? Sure, they haven't had a very easy relationship, but this hatred? Was he really that pissed off at Aziraphale taking over this project from him?

"No wonder you don't have a problem with him, you're built different too", he said, his voice shaking with some barely suppressed emotion.

Aziraphale was perplexed. Built different?

"Sandy, calm down. There is no need to attack Aziraphale just because his opinion does not align with yours. There is nothing wrong with what he said, anyway", interrupted Gabriel in a stern voice. There was a warning in his tone, but it seemed like Sandy was way past caring.

"Ah, of course! Big brother to the rescue, as always -"

Gabriel's expression turned stony at that, and by all accounts Sandy should have shut up, but he went on.

" - but remove those baby bro lenses for once, Gabriel, and look at this objectively. You know as well as I do, and Derek sees it as well, clearly. No true Archer will stand for this abomination of our good name. Even if we are forced to work with him, we need to keep this in check for all our sakes."

"Sandy, that is enough. You have said what you needed to, and I will not hear any more about this. We have work to do and we will do it to the best of our abilities. And I am sure that Mr. Crowley would be a valuable addition to the project based on how highly the client speaks of him."

Sandy scoffed disbelievingly, and Aziraphale bristled once more.

"That's just because you don't have a speck of imagination, Sandy. And what do you mean that a true Archer would never stand for this -"

"Aziraphale, you calm down too, please", implored Gabriel, and Aziraphale fell quiet when Gabriel gave him a beseeching glance that clearly said - 'please don't provoke him into making this worse'. 

But it seemed like Aziraphale's words had lit a match that kindled some long-suppressed feelings harbored by Sandy.

"I meant exactly what I said. No true Archer would stand by this, but you would, won't you. Built different, you are. Not even one of us! I still don't know what you're even doing here -"

"That's enough!", Gabriel stood up and glared at Sandy, though his face had gone sheet white.

"This is neither the time nor the place for this -"

"Why would you defend him? Against your own? You have always done that, Gabe. Always defending the adopted son, makes you feel good about yourself?"

The silence that followed this was absolute.

Gabriel looked like he might throttle Sandy right now, and Metatron looked impassive. Muriel and Eric glanced at each other, clearly at a loss about how to react. Sara looked surprised, as though she hadn't imagined that Sandy would take it quite this far.

But none of them noticed the way Aziraphale's heart raced when he heard this, how his mind refused to process the words, refused to believe them as anything more that the mad ramblings of a hateful man.

Adopted son -

What -

How? -

"A-adopted son?" he voiced out his disbelief, looking at Gabriel with a hundred questions in his eyes.

Gabriel looked absolutely devastated, and that was an answer in itself.

Aziraphale's heart clenched painfully. This could not be happening. This was his family, this was all he knew -

Standing up, he willed himself to calm down, and looked straight at Gabriel.

"Can I speak to you in the next room, Gabe?"

He did not want to create a scene, but he needed to talk to Gabriel right the hell now.

"Yes, okay."

Gabriel stood up and opened the door of the conference room. Aziraphale walked out, and he heard Gabriel tell the others that they'd be back in a few moments, before closing the door and following Aziraphale to the adjacent cabin. He closed the door behind him and turned to Aziraphale apprehensively.

"Az -"

Aziraphale held up a hand and shook his head. Gabriel fell silent and waited for him to speak.

"Is it true?"

Gabriel looked at him, but there was a clear hesitation in his eyes.

Aziraphale's pulse spiked again, but he kept his voice calm.

"I won't ask you too many questions right now Gabe, I understand it's not the time or the place. But just tell me the truth."

The use of his short name 'Gabe' seemed to encourage Gabriel. He took a deep breath and exhaled sharply.

"Yes, it's true. Father forbade me to ever tell you this. But you came to the family when you were two years old."

Aziraphale forced himself not to react. 

Later. He would process all of this later, once he gets the full story out from Gabriel.

But for now, he had one other question.

"Who am I? Who was I, originally? Do you know?"

Gabriel's voice turned soft, understanding, and a bit sad.

"Aziraphale Fell. Your name was Aziraphale Fell."

Fell -

Fell, not Archer.

Aziraphale nodded once more, then without responding to Gabriel, he turned around and walked straight out of the Eden office.

Chapter Text

Crowley was nursing the third glass of his Talisker when Michael finally came to the point.

"Okay. So, long story short - you like him?"

Crowley looked up from his glass and stared at his oldest friend. They had been discussing work and the upcoming project, and Crowley had apparently not been able to hide his reactions to Aziraphale well enough while taking about the man - hence the smug joyous expression on Michael's face.

The pub was getting a bit louder as the night drove on, but Michael's voice - and the question he had asked - was clear as a bell.

"That doesn't even come close. 'M way past like", muttered Crowley a bit morosely, contemplating how quickly to drink this particular glass.

"Mmhmm. And that's a bad thing because ? -" asked Michael, looking like he was trying very hard to suppress a grin. 

Crowley glared at him half heartedly. 

" - because we are gonna be working together? Because he is the owner of fuckin' Eden, for God's sake? Because what would a guy like him want with a washed up designer like me? Because he clearly doesn't know anything at all about my past? Take your pick."

Michael hummed thoughtfully, placing his chin on one hand I'm an irritatingly elegant manner.

"None of them sound like very viable reasons to me, if I'm being honest."

Crowley snorted disbelievingly and took a sip of his whisky.

Ah, the sweet burn of it. Revitalizing.

"No, I am serious. The first one, for example. Sure, you gotta be working together, but so what? Plenty of people who work together date each other" -

Crowley blanched at that. 

"Ugh. Stop, just stop. Don't say 'date'. I am a bloody forty three year old man, not a college freshman looking to 'date' someone."

His tone of voice created the air quotes, and Michael gave him an unimpressed look. 

"Fine, so if you don't want to date him" - actual air quotes here by Michael, the menace - "what do you want to do? Court him? Woo him? Or, pardon my French here - fuck him?"

Crowley almost spat out the second sip he had just taken. 

"Michael!"

"What?" 

The expression on Michael's face was one of pure angelic innocence, and Crowley's heart and mind were going haywire at the thought of fucking -

Or rather, perhaps, getting fucked by -

No, not a good road to go down right now. 

Not like you haven't thought about it before.

"Change of topic. Immediate change of topic", he blurted out. Michael gave him a 'gotcha' expression which instantly made him thankful for the dim lighting of the pub so that his ridiculous blush was not visible.

"All right then, how about tomorrow? Your date with the guy?"

Why? Why had he told Michael about his plan to take Aziraphale along for a car ride? 

"It is NOT a date", he spoke through gritted teeth.

"Sure, sure. Two guys out on a long drive with nothing around for miles, at the end of the land where the sea starts - of course it's not a date. Silly me."

Crowley frowned. When he put it like that, Michael made an alarming amount of sense.

"You don't think he'd think that, do you?"

Michael pondered it over.

"I am not sure. Frankly, I don't know the guy well enough to answer."

Crowley finished the rest of his drink and thought some more as Michael munched on his tacos with a satisfied smile.

It wouldn't be the end of the world if Aziraphale thought tomorrow was a date, would it?

Crowley slept fitfully, tossing and turning around on his black satin sheets in his empty Mayfair apartment. He had moved in here seven years ago, buying it in a wise decision when he was at the peak of his career. He loved the minimalistic comfort of the place, but tonight it seemed to offer no respite from the persistent thoughts of one velvet-voiced, blonde haired man.

Not to mention, that voice kept intruding upon his consciousness - a low, deep melody saying extremely enticing words.

"You have no idea."

Fuck. How Crowley would love to get an idea of exactly how much of a control freak Aziraphale was.

Given the almost obsessive ways in which he liked to lose control himself, it was no wonder he had been feeling so out of step ever since he had seen Aziraphale up on that stage - some primal part of his brain had perhaps recognised what Aziraphale had been alluding to today in that cafe.

God, even thinking about today was making him shiver all the way down his spine.

Control. Confidence. Attention to detail. The blatant desire in Aziraphale's expressions. The way he had looked at Crowley today, multiple times.

Admiring, appreciative.

Interested.

That gaze, and those moans of his as he enjoyed dessert.

Oh fuck -

Crowley barely stopped himself from moaning out loud as he remembered the sounds Aziraphale had been making. In the shadows of the night, the sounds took on a whole different meaning.

Crowley buried his face into the pillow and pressed his hips down into the mattress. The friction against his arousal made him groan, and he thrust against it a couple of times, chasing the feeling.

God, if just the thought of Aziraphale could bring him to this -

Snaking a hand underneath his boxers, he palmed himself slowly, with the image of Aziraphale in his mind's eye watching him appraisingly.

Fuck-

How would it feel to let Aziraphale watch? 

Would the man gaze at Crowley impassively? Or would heat simmer in those stormy blue eyes? 
Would Aziraphale stop himself at just watching? 

Or would he be unable to resist reaching out and touching, taking -

Fuck, fuck. Crowley was almost too aroused to breathe. He was so very close, and his mind helpfully supplied him with the memory of Aziraphale essentially saying that he'd enjoy the ride if Crowley offered. 

Bloody hell. 

Those glorious thighs had already been imprinted in his mind the first day he had seen Aziraphale, and now this tantalizing thought of riding -

Damn it, fucking damn it.

Crowley groaned involuntarily, spilling over his fingers and arching his back as pleasure overtook him. He had to bite down on his lower lip to hold back the name that was fighting to spill out from his mouth in an unbroken litany -

Aziraphale, Aziraphale -

Holy hell.

Breathing fast, he came down from the high in the next couple of minutes. His mind cleared from the foggy state of desire and he groaned into his pillow.

What have I done?

God, as amazing as this had felt, Crowley still felt a trickle of shame run down his spine. He had met Aziraphale just for a few hours, and he knew almost nothing about the man. But he had still had one of his most intense orgasms in the recent few years - all while thinking about someone who might not be interested in anything serious with him. Or he might be, but Crowley had absolutely no way of knowing that right now.

Fuck. He was in too deep, too soon. 

This might really not end well for you. 

Crowley tried to ignore his paranoid inner voice, but there was no denying the fact. Aziraphale was having an affect on him which could be considered beyond reasonable, and Crowley felt powerless to resist it.

Dammit. This could go wrong in so many ways. Such a slippery slope to go down upon, and Crowley had never been the one for too much self control. He had been known not to fall, but saunter vaguely downwards into a messy pit of convoluted emotions, and this was looking like something which he may not be able to recover from.

Punching his pillow into a more comfortable shape, Crowley grumbled to himself for sometime while he waited for the respite of some blessed sleep. And if he fell asleep to the dreams of a certain blue eyed gorgeous angel, well, that wasn't something anybody needed to know, now was it?

The next day dawned annoyingly bright and cheery. Crowley hauled himself out of bed and got ready to leave for Eden. His heart thumped erratically whenever he thought of what he had done last night, and the fact that he would be seeing Aziraphale very soon. He was so inattentive while getting dressed that he wore his shirt in the opposite direction three times before he finally managed to get it on the right way. And then, when he reached his garage to take out his car, it turned out that he had forgotten the keys on his nightstand.

All in all, he reached the office fifteen minutes late feeling more hassled by the second. He was pretty sure it couldn't be called advisable to drive at ninety miles per hour in central London, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Nice of you to join us". The disgruntled voice of Sandy greeted him as soon as he entered the conference room. Choosing not to react to the man (God knows what his problem was with Crowley, but Crowley had learnt by now that an impish, cheeky grin was usually the best answer to such unpleasant people), Crowley gave him a grin that had far too much teeth. Sandy grimaced at him as he took a seat and looked around the room.

"Sorry 'm late", he addressed Gabriel, who had been in the middle of giving some kind of a pep talk and had fallen silent when Crowley had entered. 

"No worries, we were just getting started." Gabriel smiled at Crowley and turned to the papers lying in front of himself.

Crowley's gaze fell on Aziraphale, and a swooping sensation went down his stomach. Aziraphale was looking at him, and gave him a small smile which Crowley returned. A strange quietness calmed his racing thoughts as he saw Aziraphale sitting there - and the sudden peace was unsettling, though not unwelcome.

Huh, it had been a really long time since just the presence of someone had relaxed him this way.

Although, as Crowley noted surreptitiously through the course of the discussion, Aziraphale seemed to be quite subdued today. His smiles were a little less frequent, and he did not give much input to the conversation either. He was also looking distinctly harrowed, as if he had not slept well - like he had something weighing on his mind heavily. 

Crowley was so busy cataloging these observations and fervently hoping that Aziraphale would not rethink his decision to come with Crowley for the site visit, that he completely missed a question that Gabriel had asked him. Only when Michael - who was sitting right beside him - poked him in the ribs did he focus on the room at large and realise his mistake. 

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?", he asked, feeling a bit sheepish.

Gabriel did not look off-put in any way, though. Thankfully.

"Yes, I was just asking if you'd want to see the project site sometime, so that you can put your own thoughts together about the design and we can get started from there", he said, looking up at Crowley expectantly.

Okay, this might get awkward -

"We already planned for it, Gabriel. Myself and Crowley are visiting the site today afternoon", said Aziraphale, and Crowley's heart jumped to his throat.

Trying very hard not to look inordinately pleased and relieved, Crowley nodded in agreement.

Gabriel looked a bit surprised, but he did not comment anything further than "okay, sounds like you guys have things in hand".

Next to Crowley, Michael gave a small snigger which he disguised as a cough. Crowley rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. Michael could be such an absolute child at times.

"Well then, if all is according to plan, let's get this going. I will be meeting Anathema tomorrow afternoon, so if we have a rough idea of your thoughts once you visit the site, we can discuss them with her, Crowley."

Crowley was a bit taken aback by the urgency - he usually took a few days after a site visit to organise his thoughts and come up with a draft design. But he did not comment on it, choosing instead to nod at Gabriel and try to figure out a way to get it done later.

It'll be fine, I'll just bounce ideas off Aziraphale in the evening, he thought.

But Aziraphale really did not look like he was in the mood to trade ideas and have any kind of a conversation. As soon as the meeting ended, Aziraphale picked up his files and left the room, leaving Crowley staring after him in confusion.

Did I do something?

"So, what now? Wanna grab some lunch before you leave for the site visit?"

Michael's voice brought him back to the present, and he mentally shook himself. Clearly, something was bothering Aziraphale, but he should ask the man about it before jumping to any conclusions or taking it personally.

"Yeah, okay, where do you want to go?", he asked Michael, debating whether to follow Aziraphale and check up on him.

"The canteen serves decent food, we could grab a bite there", replied Michael.

"Sure, lead the way", said Crowley, following Michael out of the conference room.

The canteen was abuzz with the lunch time rush, and they both grabbed some food from the counter. As they made their way through the crowd to reach an empty table, Crowley spotted a head of blonde hair towards the far end of the canteen. His stomach did a backward flip when he registered it was Aziraphale sitting alone with a plate of food and a cup of tea in front of him.

Without waiting for Michael, his legs automatically moved towards Aziraphale as if on autopilot.

"All by your lonesome, angel?"
The words were out of his mouth before he could filter his thoughts, and Aziraphale looked up at him in surprise. His earlier expression of vague dismay was replaced by a pleased smile which warmed Crowley down to his bones.

"Crowley", said Aziraphale in a soft voice, and Crowley had never liked his own name more than he did when spoken by that beautiful voice.

"May I join you?"

Again, he spoke the words without thinking, but Aziraphale looked pleased. His eyes crinkled as he smiled wider, and Crowley blinked rapidly.

Thank God for his sunglasses.

"Yes, of course my dear", he replied, gesturing to the seat in front of himself.

Crowley swallowed and took the seat, setting his tray on the table.

Aziraphale looked at the tray with an expression of mild disapproval on his handsome face.

"Is that all you are planning to have for lunch, Crowley? You should eat a bit more, dear. A single apple is hardly enough sustenance for the day."

Crowley's reply caught in his throat. The gentle reproach in Aziraphale's tone belied his concern, and Crowley was not sure what to do with it. Not to mention, he had been called 'dear' twice now and it was making his heart beat in a worryingly irregular rhythm. Memories of last night were resurfacing, of how good it had felt to imagine Aziraphale's voice dropping low in gentle encouragement.

"Ngk. 'm not really hungry", he mumbled. Aziraphale raised one eyebrow at him.

"We'll have to do something about that, won't we? How about I take you out to a proper meal after our site visit is done?"

"There you are!", interrupted Michael's voice, and Crowley turned around to see Michael approaching the table. He looked amused, and Crowley willed his heart to stop beating so fast in response to Aziraphale's question.

Take you out to a proper meal?! -

"Hello, Michael. Please, do join us", said Aziraphale, ever the well-mannered posh gentleman.

Michael took a seat at the table and nibbled at his food while Aziraphale asked him some questions about the contract regarding the project. Meanwhile, Crowley restarted his brain and rejoined the conversation just as Michael was laying down the fine print and assuring Aziraphale that everything was in order.

"I won't worry about it if I were you, Michael is good at this stuff", interjected Crowley, earning a surprised glance from the both of them.

"Thanks man, it's so rare to hear you praise me", chuckled Michael, and Aziraphale laughed at Crowley's disgruntled expression.

"You're making me sound like an insatiable perfectionist", he grumbled in a low voice.

Aziraphale gave him an appraising look.

"Insatiable, are you?", he asked in an extremely off-handed voice, and Crowley had to hold back a really, really inappropriate response to the feigned innocence on Aziraphale's face.

Cheeky, sexy bastard.

Apparently having noticed nothing, Michael spoke on.

"So basically that's it, Aziraphale. The paperwork is almost done, though I did have a few points I would like to discuss with you tomorrow in more detail."

Aziraphale reluctantly moved his gaze away from the blush starting to appear on Crowley's face and turned to nod at Michael. It was a shame that the presence of Michael meant he could not continue the back and forth he so wanted to have with Crowley. It had been surprisingly pleasurable yesterday, and Aziraphale would happily take a distraction right now from all the unpleasant familial revelations of last night and this morning.

"Uh, should we start in some time, Aziraphale? It's a long drive", said Crowley, and Aziraphale's stomach did another backflip. Granted, he had been a bit preoccupied at the start of the meeting at the conference room but ever since Crowley had arrived, his thoughts had been oscillating between the unpleasantness of last evening and the sheer beauty of Crowley. And now he had one whole afternoon to look forward to in Crowley's company.

Splendid.

Perhaps he'd get a few more opportunities to witness that lovely blush on Crowley's cheeks.

Or perhaps, if the fates smiled upon him, he might even get to see those mesmerizing eyes without the sunglasses.

But why was that thought enough to get his heart racing?

After they were done with lunch, Aziraphale said goodbye to Michael and Crowley did the same.

They reached the parking of Eden in amicable silence, but when Crowley brought around his car, Aziraphale could not hold back his giddy surprise.

"I take it you like the car, angel?", asked Crowley as Aziraphale settled himself onto the passenger seat, trying and failing not to look immensely pleased at the reaction he had gotten from Aziraphale.

"Oh Crowley, she's a beauty!", gushed Aziraphale, and Crowley could not hold back his wide smile in return. The Bentley was his pride and joy, and Aziraphale was positively adorable when he was excited about something.

"I didn't think you'd be so enthusiastic about vintage cars, you surprise me", said Crowley.

Aziraphale turned to look at him with an expression of mock offense on his cherubic face.

"And why, pray, would you think that?" he asked in a tone that clearly tried to be stern but ended up being playful.

Crowley grinned at Aziraphale's tone, wondering how truthful to be. He decided on a neutral approach.

"Well, there is the aesthetic, for one. You strike me more as someone who would like to spend his days inside a cozy bookshop poring over pages of the written word. Doesn't go with the vintage car enthusiast persona, if you see where I am coming from", he said, watching Aziraphale's reaction out of the corner of his eye.

"Is that so? Well you strike me as a goth rockstar more than a gardener so I guess we are both full of surprises", smirked Aziraphale, trying to hide the notes of admiration in his voice. 

Crowley chuckled at that, surprised by Aziraphale's assessment. He could not resist teasing the man, though.

"You haven't seen me gardening yet, angel. You might change your mind."

Aziraphale's breath caught in his throat. For one, Crowley had called him 'angel' twice already today - and that was already playing havoc with his heart. But now this? The open challenge in Crowley's tone immediately had him thinking the most inappropriate thoughts about the other man.

What a temptation.

Thankfully, Crowley changed the subject away from such tantalizing thoughts and onto the immediate work ahead of them.

"Have you been to the project site before?"

Aziraphale tore his thoughts away from visions of a muddy, disheveled Crowley sweating in the sun, and answered the question as evenly as he could manage.

"Yes, once before. It is a very beautiful place. I'm so glad to be going there again with you."

The sincerity in Aziraphale's tone was unmistakable, and Crowley gulped as he remembered his earlier thoughts about this being possibly construed as a date.

But he did not want to delve into the thoughts that came later on - the thoughts of Aziraphale praising him, and watching him, and taking control -

No, really not an appropriate time for this - he chided himself mentally.

They were going to be alone for hours on the road in an enclosed, intimate space though. Crowley's thoughts were going haywire, pulling him in different, distracting directions when Aziraphale spoke again.

"So, how do you know Michael?"

Crowley mentally shook himself and focused.

"Oh, he is a childhood friend. We grew up in the same town and did our PhDs together."

"PhD?", Aziraphale sounded surprised, and Crowley turned to look at him.

"Yeah, he did one in law. I did it in botany."

Aziraphale's eyes widened in surprise at this knowledge.

"You have a PhD in botany?" he asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice. He couldn't imagine Crowley being so academically inclined on top of being such an immensely gifted creator.

"Didn't expect it, did you?", Crowley grinned, looking pleased. 

Aziraphale smiled wryly.

"It's not that. It's just, I myself had wanted to pursue a PhD once. But I guess life had other plans."

"Oh, in which subject?"

Aziraphale looked slightly abashed. He had never discussed this long-forgotten desire with anyone before, but Crowley made him want to spill all his truths.

"English literature", he replied, looking outside the window at the sprawling landscape beyond.

The thought of pursuing that subject had always intrigued Aziraphale, as though he had some unexplained kinship with it. Perhaps in another life - he thought often whenever the unexplained emotion hit him. But he had given up that desire to study more the 'practical' concerns of his family business, following in his father's footsteps. 

After yesterday, though, just the thought of it made him feel hollow.

Father, family, duty, obligation - all of it felt empty after what Gabriel had told him last night. 

Aziraphale Fell. He still couldn't believe it.

Aziraphale took a deep breath and tried not to spiral into what would surely be another bout of an identity crisis. 

"Anyway", he continued in a light voice, "it's wonderful to know that you love your subject enough to do such research on it, Crowley. I didn't think I could be more in awe of you, but you continue to surprise me."

"Ngk. Um, thanks, I guess?" Crowley was not sure how to respond to such praise freely given, and that too from Aziraphale.

Damn, he's gonna be the death of me. 

"You are very welcome, my dear", smiled Aziraphale, and Crowley could have sworn his heart literally skipped a couple of beats.

God. He was in so much trouble. How could Aziraphale be affecting him so much? And that too in such a short amount of time? 

He really was the full package, wasn't he? Kind, funny, witty, and devastatingly sexy.

Fuck.

Crowley was so done for.

Might as well enjoy the ride.

Chapter Text

The first thing Aziraphale had noticed when he got inside the car was that it was an awfully intimate setting. Just the two of them, in such close proximity for hours on end? Yeah, that might be difficult to resist.

The second thing he had noticed along the way was that Crowley had a tendency to hum tunes while driving, and he had a beautiful voice.

The third thing he noticed was that Crowley drove somewhat like a maniac.

He had been sufficiently distracted while they had been talking for the last half hour, but now that there was a lull in the conversation and they also were out of the city onto long winding roads, Aziraphale noticed how Crowley took the turns too fast and accelerated a bit too quickly.

"Watch out! -", he gasped involuntarily as Crowley swerved around another bend. The tires screeched as Crowley braked, and the car came to a gradual halt on the side of the road. 

Crowley turned to look at him, surprised. 

"What happened?", he asked, looking genuinely concerned. It might have something to do with the fact that Aziraphale was breathing a bit too fast with one hand on his heart and the other hand clutching the car handle for dear life.

"Oh, no nothing in particular, my dear. Just wondered if you might want to slow down a bit?" said Aziraphale, worried that he might come across as overly concerned, but still feeling a bit discomfited at the speed.

Crowley's brows furrowed for a moment, and then his face split into a wide grin.

"No problem, angel. I can go as slow as you want", he said in a tone that held so much indecent promise in it that Aziraphale had to hold back a reflex reaction of responding with another double entendre.

God, Crowley was getting dangerously skilled at making his heart skip a beat with a few words.

Aziraphale gave him a lopsided smile, choosing not to delve into this dance of words which was sure to get him in a delicately uncomfortable position, given his current close proximity to the red headed temptation grinning next to him. 

"Good to know. Perhaps you'd like to employ that claim and drive at a somewhat normal pace?"

Crowley's fingers tightened slightly on the wheel and he nodded in agreement, still grinning in that distracting manner. As he started the car again and pulled up onto the road, he started to hum again. The car moved at a relaxed pace, a marked difference from before.

Aziraphale looked out the window to hide a smile that was entirely too tender and entirely too unexpected. 

"Can I ask you something?"

Crowley's voice was quiet, a bit hesitant, even. Aziraphale turned away from the window to look at his companion, feeling a bit surprised at the sudden shyness in Crowley's voice.

"Yes, sure", he replied.

Crowley took a deep breath, and then let it out in a huff.

"Erm, this may not be any of my business, but are things all right with you? Sorry if this is nosy, but you looked troubled in the morning meeting."

Ah. So he had not been as discreet as he had hoped.

Crowley had noticed.

A funny jolt went through him at the realisation.

"I mean, it's okay if you don't want to discuss it, just got curious. Ignore me, I know I ask too many questions ", babbled Crowley, clearly looking discomfited.

Aziraphale realised he might have taken a bit too long in responding. He hastened to set the record straight.

"No, not at all. It's just that I didn't expect you to notice."

"Oh. Er, it's kind of hard not to notice?", Crowley trailed off, and Aziraphale felt that jolt again. He fell quiet for a few moments, wondering how to respond. He finally decided on the truth.

"That is very kind of you, Crowley. Most people won't have bothered."

Crowley's response was as quick as it was unexpected.

"Not kind", he mumbled in a petulant voice, and Aziraphale almost let out a laugh at how insistent Crowley sounded while saying that.

"I believe you are quiet wrong, my dear", smiled Aziraphale, and suddenly Crowley found himself wishing he could see Aziraphale smile at him every day. 

Whoa. Slow down there maybe?

"But to answer your earlier question - yes, I happened to get appraised of certain unsettling facts about my past. I am afraid it did quite a number on me."

Curiosity burned in Crowley, but he could hear it in Aziraphale's voice that this was a sensitive topic. He knew he should not push the other man to talk about something which was clearly distressing to him.

"Ah, that sounds rough. Wanna talk about it? Or not - it's fine either way."

Aziraphale hesitated, wondering whether to get into it with Crowley. He hardly knew the man, after all. Won't it be bad form for him to dump his troubles on the poor fellow?

"That's quite all right my dear, I won't want to burden you with my unnecessary ramblings."

An unexpected feeling of disappointment hit Crowley, but he pushed back against it. Aziraphale didn't owe him an explanation, he would talk about it if he wanted to, or he won't.

His choice, really.

"Not at all, angel. Just wanted to say that I'm here if you do want to talk about it. It's no burden, I promise."

Aziraphale's heart skipped another beat. And it had nothing to do with being called an 'angel', thank you very much.

Dear God. How could this man be so unflinchingly nice?

"Thank you, Crowley. I appreciate it so, that's very nice of you to say."

"Not nice, not kind", grumbled Crowley, and this time Aziraphale could not hold back his surprised laughter. There was an almost pout on that beautiful face, and Crowley's brows were furrowed.

"What?"

Adorable. How could a grown man look so adorable when annoyed?

"Nothing, my dear", chuckled Aziraphale, and Crowley gave him a reluctant grin. 

"We're here", he said, pointing to the open land on their right and stopping the car.

"Oh? We reached already?"

Aziraphale had not meant to wonder that out loud, but he was caught unawares by the sudden halt. It seemed only a few minutes ago when they had started from the office. 

Selfishly, he had wanted the journey to last longer. 

Well, there is the drive back too.

"Yep. You might want to leave your coat in the car, it's sunny outside and we'll be walking around."

Crowley glided out of the car as he said this, and shimmied out of his jacket. As he closed his door and walked over to the passenger side, Aziraphale stepped out of the car, and stopped.

Crowley had been wearing a sleeveless black vest underneath his jacket.

A sleeveless, clinging-to-his-muscles black vest.

Which showed off his long arms and neck, along with the ethereally beautiful tattoo he had running all across them.

The tattoo started from the left side of Crowley's neck, branching off in three parts the middle - one part continuing down his collarbone, presumably down his chest currently hidden by the cloth. Another seemed to be going towards his back, also covered by the vest.

The final part trailed down his left arm, the elegant swirls twisting and turning around like vines. The patterns were all related to plants, long, twisting layers of designs. Aziraphale recognised few patterns from the blog posts he had been reading.

The overall effect was breathtaking. Crowley's face was striking enough on its own. His sense of style was effortlessly phenomenal. And now this gorgeous ink? 

Oh dear heavens, he is -

"- beautiful".

The word escaped Aziraphale in a reverant whisper. 

Crowley's eyes snapped up to Aziraphale's face, and a slow blush spread across his lovely cheeks. The sunglasses hid his eyes, but Aziraphale could have sworn there was a certain shade of bashfulness in that golden gaze.

Aziraphale could not bring himself to stop looking.

The fabric clung to Crowley like a second skin, the shape of his lean muscles clearly visible. And the way the fabric dipped at his waist, trailing down, tucked inside the waistband of those sinfully tight denims -

Oh my.

Crowley was a work of art.

One that Aziraphale could spend hours admiring. 

The air between them crackled with unspoken heat as Aziraphale involuntarily moved towards Crowley, and he could see Crowley's breathing speed up. He could see the rise and fall of Crowley's chest as he approached the man, feet moving forward with no conscious input from his brain. 

With just a few inches remaining between them, Aziraphale could clearly make out each leaf, each stem adorning the enticing tattoo covering Crowley's arm. His throat was dry, and he felt a deep hunger all of a sudden. 

The hunger to know -

To feel -

To touch -

Crowley seemed to be rooted to the spot, as was Aziraphale. Every nerve ending was screaming at him to take the remaining two steps forward and close the distance between them. To finally give in to what had been building up between them - a crescendo of raw desire which was threatening to rip apart all of Aziraphale's carefully crafted self control. 

Crowley was taller than him, not too much but enough that Aziraphale could clearly see the movement of his throat as Crowley swallowed, followed by a deep, shuddering breath. 

Aziraphale inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring as he set his jaw and tried to regain a modicum of control. He was just about to step back when Crowley took off his glasses.

Amber eyes met blue ones - and the unmasked desire in their honeyed depths took Aziraphale's breath away. Aziraphale's heart sped up, and Crowley closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again and looking at Aziraphale - as though he had needed a moment to compose himself.

"F-fuck."

The breathy, softly spoken word seemed to have been torn out of Crowley against his will, if his immediately abashed expression was anything to go by. The tone of it was so wanton that Aziraphale felt devoutly grateful for his long overcoat hiding the sudden tightness in his trousers.

The neediness in that one word -

Holy damn.

Before he could do anything rash or reckless, Aziraphale deliberately took a step back, then another.

The door on his side of the car was still open - he had forgotten to close it, having gotten thoroughly distracted by Crowley.

He took a couple of deep breaths, fiddling with the buttons on his coat, wondering if he should take it off as Crowley suggested. He was definitely feeling a bit too hot under the collar, but that did not have anything to do with the sun overhead and everything to do with the man standing in front of him right now. 

Trying to center his mind on the immediate task in front of him, he undid the button on his overcoat and pulled it off his shoulders with slow, measured movements. His throat was feeling a bit too constricted as well, so he decided to undo the knot on his bowtie with deft, practiced fingers. He could feel Crowley's eyes on him, and it felt like an oddly intimate moment between the two of them - odd, given that they were standing in an open field under the glare of a bright sun.

Aziraphale placed his coat and bowtie on the car seat, and popped open the top button of his shirt for good measure.

There, much better.

Now he could breathe.

Nothing could have prepared him for the muted groan that rumbled through Crowley's throat. The sound was very faint, almost as if whispered by the wind, but it was unmistakeably Crowley.

His hands tightened on the door handle, and the sound travelled straight to the heat pooling in his stomach.

Crowley had turned around, his back to Aziraphale, and he seemed to be staring out into the distance with his sunglasses back on. He had his hands in his jeans pockets, and there was a visible strain along the muscles of his shoulders.

Aziraphale closed the door with a soft thump, and walked around the car to stand next to Crowley. They stood in silence for a few moments while Aziraphale looked out at the beautiful expanse of land stretching out ahead of them, ending at the pristine blue ocean in the distance beyond the cliffs. 

"Very beautiful", commented Crowley, breaking the silence. 

"Yes, very", agreed Aziraphale, though he was not really looking at the landscape when he said that - he was looking at Crowley. The sun glinted off Crowley's bright red hair and shimmered over the thin metal ring perched on the top of his left ear.

"You've been here before, right?"

Aziraphale nodded with an assenting hum.

"What do you usually do on such a field visit?" asked Crowley, starting to walk around the open space. Aziraphale fell in step with him and they strolled along.

"Oh, it's my favorite part! I spend time on the location, visualising how it would get transformed gradually into something wondrous. I usually walk around, see how the open spaces connect to each other, which corners would have the best views, which might be perfect for converting into cozy, ambient spaces. Things like that", trailed off Aziraphale, realising he may be gushing about a bit too much.

But Crowley didn't seem to mind. He looked quite enthused, in fact.

"That's so funny, it's almost the exact same thing that I do myself."

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, surprised and thrilled in equal measure that his favourite creator thought that they had similar processes.

"Though I'd have imagined you doing things more like figuring out what resources would be needed to execute the operational aspects of the project and the like, no?"

Aziraphale's excitement dimmed a bit as Crowley's words reminded him of the role he was supposed to be playing in the project.

Management, not creation. That was what his family had expected of him, and that's what he had molded himself into. 

Family. The same family that never told him the biggest truth about himself.

His expression might have betrayed the direction his thoughts had taken, for Crowley suddenly looked concerned. 

"You all right there? Sorry I didn't mean to be rude or anything, just a random observation."

"No, no, don't worry about it. You're not being rude at all. You just reminded me of what I'm supposed to be doing, that's all."

Crowley lifted one eyebrow at him, coming to a halt.

"Supposed to be doing? Whatever does that mean?"

"Well, it's what is expected of me, so I do it. I'm supposed to manage these projects, so I manage."

"But you - you like the landscapes, don't you?"

"Yes, I love them. The untamed beauty of natural gardens and forests, the play of the colors of the sun on streams and water bodies, all the hues of greens and browns and yellows, I love it all."

Crowley gaped at him.

"What?", asked Aziraphale, feeling a little defensive. He rarely spoke of this, if ever. The last time he had talked about this was over a decade ago, one evening when he had been chatting with Gabriel and drinking a particularly wonderful red wine.

"Nothing, nothing. I was actually talking about the landscapes that Eden does, but your answer is so much better", smiled Crowley, and a slow warmth spread across Aziraphale, like stepping outside a cold room into the bright warm sunshine. 

"Oh, well, thank you", he replied, holding back an overly pleased grin. It was so wonderful to have someone not judge him for this. He knew that if he ever spoke this way around his family he'd get endless barbs about being overly sentimental and thinking too much when his job was to be doing what others had already thought of and designed. He had enough experience of it by now. 

Crowley's easy, enthusiastic acceptance was as unexpected as it was refreshing. 

"Don't mention it. Now that I know how you feel about it, I feel much more comfortable saying that I never really liked the Eden landscapes either. Too bland, if you ask me."

Aziraphale chuckled at the blunt honesty.

"I can't say I blame you. Having seen the kind of work you do, I'm not surprised at your assessment. The Eden design team stands nowhere when it comes to the kind of art you create, Crowley."

"Ngk", muttered Crowley, then he continued in a wry tone, "flattery again, angel? Someone might think you want something from me."

Oh, don't get me started on the things I want -

"It's just the truth, I'm afraid. No ulterior motives here." Aziraphale replied in a voice that was remarkably composed, given that all he could think of right now was how badly he wanted everything that Crowley could possibly offer.

"That's too bad", came the reply, with a note of barely suppressed humor in Crowley's tone.

Aziraphale decided to tag along. 

"Well, I am a pretty straight forward guy when it comes to something I want. I don't tend to beat around the bush."

Crowley stilled for a moment, the humour on his face replaced by something deeper, more intriguing. 

"Neither do I. Most of the times."

"Most of the times? What happens the other times?"

"Believe it or not, I am capable of exercising some amount of self restraint in certain situations."

God, the way he said it -

And was this one of the times Crowley was exercising his self restraint, as he put it? 

The wildfire attraction between them (and it seemed to be mutual based on what he could see from Crowley's reactions, and wasn't that just something that took his breath away) had fanned in the space of a few meetings and it might very well become an inferno which neither would want to, or be able to escape.

Aziraphale knew he had to tread very - very - carefully, but Crowley was turning out to be simply irresistible on all accounts. 

If it was just him and his attraction he could have handled it, but adding Crowley's interest to the situation made it rife with danger. It was a slippery slope of flirting escalating to something more and Aziraphale was afraid he would lose control faster than he could regain his footing.

But why is that a bad thing? 

Maybe because this is all in your head? Or maybe because you are in no headspace currently to pursue something like this?

Or maybe because you are supposed to be working with him and why complicate things?

Neither of the statements sounded particularly convincing to Aziraphale, but they were enough to bring him back to reality.

The reality being that there was a very slim chance of someone like Anthony Crowley being interested in someone like himself - bland, set in his ways, fussy about his preferences, and currently caught up in a storm of family drama which he had not even begun to process. 

Crowley didn't seem to have noticed the ongoing struggle in Aziraphale's head, since he was walking ahead towards a rock strewn patch at the right side of the field. Aziraphale caught up with him and they approached the cliffs.

"I think this could be a marvelous place for people to come and unwind. I can just imagine the way this entire area will come alive under the cover of trees and arches with vines draped across them."

The enthusiasm in Crowley's voice was unmistakeable, and Aziraphale was enthralled. This was AJ in his element. He waved his arms about and gestured to different parts of the field while gushing about what kinds of plants would grow best in this soil and the weather. He paced around in a circle and animatedly explained his ideas, all of which sound absolutely wonderful to Aziraphale.

He could imagine how Crowley was visualising this place to be a haven for people of all backgrounds and life stages to come find some solace in the nature. And he, Crowley, would be the architect of their peace. It took Aziraphale back to those evenings he spent reading AJ's blog, the creativity and enthusiasm bleeding through the words on the screen, and here he was hearing it all from the man himself.

A witness to the birth of creation, from a mind as beautiful as the rest of the man.

" - so basically that's what it should be", concluded Crowley, wringing his hands and still pacing around excitedly. 

"That sounds absolutely wonderful, Crowley! I can't wait to see you put this on paper and then make it a reality."

"Not just gonna be me, Aziraphale. You're the one who'll be bringing this all to life with me, won't you?"

Crowley's smile was a tender, wondrous thing which made Aziraphale feel all warm inside. The fact that Crowley was asking him, expecting him even, to be an equal contributor to creating this space into what Crowley was envisioning, it was a surreal experience. If anyone had told him four days ago that he would be actively involved in executing the vision of AJ, he would have laughed in their face.

"So, what now?" he asked a bit reluctantly. He did not want their time together to end.

Crowley sprawled himself down on a big boulder which was at a comfortable sitting height, almost like a bench. He looked out into the horizon beyond the cliffs.

"Nothing in particular. I just usually sit around for some time and soak in the place. Hope that's okay?"

"Yes! Completely fine. Mind if I join you?"

"Of course, you don't need to ask for my permission you know. Free country."

Aziraphale laughed at that and took up the space on Crowley's right. It was a beautiful place, the company even more so, and Aziraphale felt extremely peaceful sitting here with Crowley, with the wind ruffling his hair and the sun shining on his head. The peace was somehow frightening in its intensity, but Aziraphale chose to ignore the darker thoughts and focus on this pristine moment.

Somehow there was no pressure to fill the silence, no unspoken expectation to hurry things along. He could just be.

Smiling to himself, Aziraphale rolled up his sleeves. It was getting warmer and the sun felt good on his bare forearms.

On a whim, he pulled off his waistcoat and set it on his lap.

A sudden sharp inhale was the only indication that Crowley had noticed what he was doing, and Aziraphale turned to look at the man.

Crowley was determinedly looking straight ahead, a muscle jumped in his jaw as he clenched and unclenched it.

"Crowley?"

"Mmhm?"

"Are you all right? Something wrong?"

Crowley shook his head, still not looking at him.

"Are you quite sure my dear? You look awfully uncomfortable."

Crowley sighed and sprawled even more, limbs going boneless.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it. Just - no, never mind. I'm all good."

"If you say so. But as you said, I'm here if you'd like to talk", said Aziraphale, not wanting to push Crowley, just as he had been kind enough not to push Aziraphale earlier. 

Crowley let out a soft chuckle at that, and shook his head.

"Speaking of that, do you want to?"

"Do I want to what?"

"Talk? About what had you all troubled before?"

"Oh. It's - it's something quite unexpected. Long, confusing story." Aziraphale hedged, wondering if he should discuss this. He still hadn't wrapped his head around the entire thing. 

But here was Crowley, sitting next to him, offering silent support. He was relaxed, showing no sign of impatience, giving Aziraphale space to decide if and what to share. 

"I have time, angel. Don't worry on my account."

Aziraphale's heart skipped another beat at the gentleness in Crowley's tone. He let out a breath and inhaled deeply, steeling himself to speak up. 

"All right, it's about my family. You know how Eden is owned by the four of us? Me and my siblings?"

"Yes, Michael told me about it once."

"Well, the company has been in the family for generations. My great grandfather started it, and my father took it to the next level. The direct lineage from my grandfather onwards has always been expected to play their roles in the family business. My father taught me everything I know about my job, everything about managing projects and executing things to perfection. He was a patient man, but he expected excellence and he made sure he got it. He sent me to business school, and made sure I always understood that each project that Eden executed was a reflection of the family values."

He stopped here, clenching his fist as he thought of his father. The larger than life presence of his father had influenced every single one of his decisions till date. And then to find out that he hid such a big part of Aziraphale's identity -

"Anyway. When he passed away a few years back, the company got divided amongst the four of us. Gabriel being the eldest took charge, and Sandy and Sara head their respective departments. I asked Gabriel not to change anything in my job role - I was perfectly content with my work and had no desire to get into the daily politics of running a business. Gabriel agreed, he just asked me to attend the board meetings where the decision making happens. I agreed, and it had been going smooth enough."

Crowley shifted a bit, his knees almost touching Aziraphale's. Aziraphale continued, wanting to go on now that he had started speaking.

"Yesterday was different. All our other board meetings usually go as well as can be expected, some slight disagreements here and there but nothing to write home about. But yesterday we were joined by another person, a man named Derek - the biggest investor in Eden and a close friend of my father. He is as rigid as you can expect a war-hardened, set-in-his-ways old guy to be. He has always been all about the 'image of the company' and apparently he was concerned about this project."

Aziraphale's tone turned icy as he recalled the way Derek had attacked the project and Crowley for no reason except his own prejudices.

"Suffice to say, he is not thrilled about it. But Anathema is such a long-standing client that they won't dare to say no to her. So they are all in a bit of a bind." 

He chuckled humorlessly.

"Hang on. You mean to say that the main boss of Eden does not want this project to happen?"

Crowley sounded incredulous. Aziraphale didn't blame him. From an outsider perspective, it would look absolutely insane that the heads of the company were hesitant about one of the largest projects they had ever contracted.

"Not exactly. His problem is not with the contract, per se -" Aziraphale trailed off, not wanting to continue down this line of thought. He still felt so angry at Derek for his bigoted approach to the entire situation.

"It's me, isn't it? He doesn't want me on this project?" Crowley's voice was quiet, but Aziraphale could hear the undercurrent of rejection in his tone.

He hastened to set the facts right. He couldn't bear Crowley thinking that he was not wanted.

"No! No, it has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with his regressive approach to things. It's absolutely frustrating, how close-minded they all are. Well, not Gabriel as much, but the others? Don't get me started on it."

Aziraphale was breathing hard, the injustice of it all rankling still.

"Okay.. then what is it? There is more to this, I believe? Otherwise you'd be looking all angry today, not so dismayed as you have been."

Aziraphale was brought up short at Crowley's question. He seemed to have moved on from his perceived unwelcome and looked absolutely focused on trying to understand what was troubling Aziraphale.

It was heart warming.

"I- okay, so yesterday I might have gotten into a heated argument with Sandy about this during the meeting", continued Aziraphale a bit sheepishly. Somehow, this seemed a lot harder, and revealing, to confess - that he had apparently fought his family for the sake of Crowley.

"We traded some harsh words, I essentially accused him of judging what he did not understand, and he accused me of being built different, whatever that means."

Crowley interrupted him with an indignant sputter.

"Well that's just rude. Built different? What exactly is that guy's problem?"

"Turns out he was being a bit too literal. I am literally built different from my family."

Aziraphale sighed deeply, steeling himself to spell out what he still was having trouble believing.

"I - I am adopted. My real name is Aziraphale Fell."

The words left his mouth in a rush of air, and he looked down at his hands clasped on his knees.

Crowley was absolutely still next to him, there was no movement for a few moments apart from the nearby trees swaying in the wind and the sound of the waves hitting the rocks below the cliff.

Then, slowly, hesitantly, as if worried about spooking Aziraphale, Crowley extended one hand towards his, palm up.

"May I?" he asked in a soft voice, and Aziraphale raised his eyes to look at Crowley in surprise.

Crowley nodded at him, gesturing towards his hand.

Slowly, heart thundering in his ears, Aziraphale unclasped his left hand and gently placed it in Crowley's.

Crowley shuffled a bit closer, not exactly touching but close enough that Aziraphale could feel the warmth of his body and smell his cologne.

His heart was racing at a worrying pace, but his mind was oddly relaxed. Crowley's hand was slightly calloused, rough, like he worked with them. Which he did, being a gardener at heart.

It felt undescribably nice to be holding Crowley's hand, being held by Crowley even. Crowley shifted his arm a bit, and gently threaded his long, tapering fingers through Aziraphale's - holding his hand as if it were something precious.

The gesture was so tender, so beautifully done that Aziraphale could only look at Crowley, feeling at a complete loss of words.

Out of all the possible reactions he could have expected, this one was the furthest out of the realm of what he could have imagined.

"Angel, I am so sorry to hear that. I can't even imagine how you feel right now."

Aziraphale's breath left him in a huff as he looked towards the ocean. He still didn't know how exactly he felt. The entire last night, once he had gotten the full story from Gabriel, he had alternated between disbelief, anger, despair and an almost full-blown identity crisis at one point.

It has been one of the most difficult nights of his life, and he could not believe he was spending his next day sitting at the end of the land with a man whose heart was gentler and kinder than anyone he had ever met. 

"I am not sure what to feel, you know?"

Aziraphale began, slightly hesitant but grateful that he could talk about this with someone who seemed to want to understand. 

"I don't even know who I am anymore. The family business is all I've ever known, it has been a part of me ever since I could remember. But now I find out that I am not actually family? Was none of it real, then?"

Crowley squeezed his hand lightly, a silent encouragement and support. 

"Gabriel told me that our father made him swear never to let me find out. Now I wonder if it was out of love - perhaps he didn't want me to feel unwelcome in any way - or if he knew that I would not stay in the family business if given the choice."

Crowley's hand stilled at his words. Aziraphale had never admitted this out loud even to himself, but deep down he knew it was the truth. The expectations of his family had shaped everything about him, but a small part of him had always tried to rebel in small, insignificant ways. In the way he managed the projects - with empathy as opposed to the ruthlessness his father taught him. In the way he spent time admiring beautiful works of art and even feeling slightly envious of the mysterious AJ for the way his creations seemed so unbridled and free of all expectations.

He always beat back that part of himself, chiding himself for not being a good enough son, a good enough brother, not being good enough.

And here he was, spilling his deepest secrets, whispering his truth which the wind carried over the cliffs and waves, and one man sat with him, unflinchingly there.

"Aziraphale."

"Yes?"

"We may have met just yesterday, but can I tell you something?"

Aziraphale chortled at that, the lump in his throat loosening considerably. It was a stark reminder that they really had met just yesterday, which was so impossible to believe right now. They were so strangely in sync that they might have known each other for millennia.

"Yes, my dear. Anything."

"We may have met yesterday, but you have been a part of my life ever since I heard you speak in that conference. You have no idea how much you affected me that day. I was in a dark place, spiraling, and your words pulled me up, gave me hope in the world."

Aziraphale was dumbstruck, the unexpected confession making his heart ache in the best ways. It was exactly what he felt about AJ, the solitary light in his otherwise dreary days.

"So believe me when I say this. You may not know who you are right now, but I know. You are a good man, Aziraphale. A good man who got dealt a bad hand. Doesn't mean it's all bad, you know?"

Aziraphale did not know what to say. There was something dangerously akin to affection bubbling up beneath the surface of his thoughts, affection for Crowley, for his beautiful heart and quiet comfort.

"It will be okay, angel. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But it will be. I believe it for you."

Crowley squeezed his hand again, and Aziraphale gripped it back, unable to put anything in words.

They sat like this for God knows how long - Aziraphale looking at the gradually setting sun, holding onto Crowley's hand, and letting himself believe that yes, it all may really be okay.