Chapter 1
The glow of early morning sunlight filtered in through the bookstore window, irradiating the shattered glass and tattered remnants of Aziraphale’s failed ball. Crowley slumped against his upholstered chair, sunglasses firmly in place as always. But behind the black-as-night lenses, he tracked his oldest acquaintance’s movements as he busied himself picking up and dusting off books, his expression more forlorn than he’d ever seen it.
With an exasperated sigh, Crowley leaned forward and demanded, “alright, angel. Out with it.”
Aziraphale blinked, his round face lifting up from the prized first edition he held between his hands.
“Hmm?” He intoned, dazed by the demon’s interruption of his thoughts.
“I said, out with it, angel,” Crowley growled. “That was your third pitiful sigh and I can’t sit here in silence any longer.” The demon crossed his legs and motioned for the shopkeeper to speak up.
“Oh, alright,” Aziraphale gave in with another sigh, setting down his book. “It’s only that... well...” He looked back at Crowley with sorrowful eyes. “I wanted so terribly to have a successful ball,” He finally admitted.
“I knew it,” Crowley replied triumphantly, settling back to continue observing his friend-slash-not friend. Crowley didn’t have friends, he harrumphed at the very idea of friends.
“Yes, well, I suppose it was rather a stupid idea,” Aziraphale muttered with a self-deprecating smile.
Oh. Oh, no, Crowley thought. That kind of defeat won’t do. Despite the fact he didn’t have friends, he’d found out long ago that Aziraphale’s unhappiness made him unbearably uncomfortable. He hadn’t taken the time to examine why.
“Well,” he drawled, twisting his hand in the air as if to conjure a kind word. “It wasn’t... altogether stupid. Before the filthy demons arrived I thought people were enjoying themselves.”
“Really?” Aziraphale fished suspiciously.
“Yes, of course. I believe I even saw your humans smiling,” he grimaced.
Aziraphale’s cherub lips parted in one of his “sincerely pleased” grins, as Crowley had come to call them. Yet there was still a touch of disappointment around his innocent eyes that had Crowley pointing out (against his better judgment), “But that’s not all, is it?”
“It’s nothing,” The angel brushed off, turning his back to the demon in the chair.
Not to be dismissed, Crowley slinked from his chair and sidled up to Aziraphale, resting his chin on the shorter angel’s shoulder.
“Oh, come on now. It’s me. You can tell me anything,” he crooned.
Mostly because it had always been true. They’d been through heavenly lies and hellish schemes together. There was nothing unsaid, for better or worse.
And yet, Aziraphale hesitated.
“Angel?” Crowley prompted again, urging him to face him with a nudge of his shoulder.
When Aziraphale did, there was a vulnerable look in his eyes that had Crowley instantly worried. Who hurt him? Who did he have to kill to make this look go away? He opened his mouth to demand names but Aziraphale beat him to it —
“I desperately wanted to dance with…you,” he admitted, his cheeks pink and his eyes hopefully round.
Crowley sputtered.
“Ah, but we did, didn’t we? As I was warning you about the hoard outside…” His hand came up to smooth back his hair nervously, feeling the press of Aziraphale’s attention.
“Yes, yes, you’re right. Of course, we did,” the angel agreed.
“That’s your problem, angel. You’re too agreeable. Always have been,” Crowley accused, causing the angel to frown.
“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale responded, hurt rimming his blue eyes.
Crowley let out a low curse as he watched the angel retreat into the back room. He was always such an asshole to the most warm-hearted being in heaven and on earth and for some reason, he always found a way to fuck things up. Simply in my nature, he thought.
But what if…just this once…it wasn’t?
Crowley scoured the room for the angel’s ridiculous gramophone, pulling it right side up from the floor. Then, he searched the records for something that wasn’t cracked or broken in the ruckus that had occurred the night before.
Once the needle was in place, and the music began to play, he placed himself in the middle of the shop floor, under the chandelier, waiting for Aziraphale to come back and investigate the noise. From the other room he heard —
“Oh, I’m so glad the gramophone is still working. I —” Aziraphale paused in the doorway, head tilted in confusion. “Crowley? What’s going on?”
Crowley hadn’t rehearsed this in his head, hadn’t thought past the part about wanting his angelic friend to just smile his cherub smile again.
“I…umm…I’m asking you to dance.”
Aziraphale laughed incredulously, wagging his finger at his demon friend as he began to pass by him to take a look at his record collection.
“You’re always making jokes about me,” he admonished. Then, “oh…my —” as Crowley reached out and grasped his hand, bowing slightly (if not a little dramatically).
“Aziraphale, angel, will you dance with me?” He’d tossed his sunglasses and his yellow eyes searched angelic blue, seeking approval.
Aziraphale’s expression softened and he bowed in return.
“I would be honored to dance with you, Crowley, demon.”
Crowley gave no warning as he pulled Aziraphale close, their chests pressed closer than ever. His hand rested firmly on the angel’s lower back, guiding and protecting as he always had. The demon could practically feel the warmth radiating from Aziraphale’s body, warming him, comforting him the way he’d always done from a distance.
Crowley admired the way the sunlight illuminated the white strands atop his friend’s head, making him look as ethereal as the day they’d met in heaven. He didn’t realize until it was too late that he’d reached up to play with one of the stray pieces until Aziraphale’s face tilted upward at him, a question in his soft gaze.
With a shaky exhale, the demon let his hand glide a trail down the angel’s smooth-shaven face and swiped a thumb over his cherub cheek.
“Crowley?” Aziraphale started, voice wary and dreamy at the same time. “Are you alright?”
Crowley shook his head as the angel witnessed fear in the demon’s eyes for the first time in millennia.
“No,” Crowley croaked. “I’m not alright, angel. I’m afraid I may have fallen in love with you and I’m not sure when.”
