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Aziraphale had grown up a joyful and curious boy. He loved everything and everyone, for that’s what the pastor at church told him Jesus said to do. Aziraphale had been enthusiastic about making friends as a young lad. The only problem was that the world was not so kind to him.
He’d been picked on and bullied constantly throughout his childhood. People bullied Aziraphale for anything under the sun. Anything from his name, to how he looked, to what he liked. They bullied Aziraphale for being too nice, for being too soft, for being too gullible, too naive. His mother always told him to forgive his bullies as God said to. His father would tell Aziraphale to toughen up. Aziraphale grew to become shy and self-conscious. He began to believe that he preferred being on his own and threw himself into his studies.
Aziraphale fell in love with the word and not just the Lord’s word. Things his parents would never approve of, he snuck into his house and read under the covers—stories of magic and witchcraft, of far-off lands, and romance. Aziraphale always wished his stories could be true, that he could live in the places that he read. He’d wish that one day he might get to be the knight in shining armour, to be a hero, to fall in love. He never grew out of that childhood love of magic and whimsy. But as Aziraphale grew up, he fell in love with the classics, in love with more respectable works like Shakespeare. Aziraphale wanted to read everything, to know everything. He dreamed of becoming a scholar or perhaps a professor. In school, Aziraphale excelled, and his parents were quite proud of him.
Aziraphale felt a bit nervous telling his parents about his plans for college, for it meant leaving home. It meant leaving their Christian environment. His parents weren’t too pleased at all at the news. But Aziraphale reminded them how Gabriel went to college for business and had turned out just the same as he always was. His parents caved then, and Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief.
College was a shock to Aziraphale’s sensibilities. Aziraphale had never really stepped outside his comfort zone or his Christian bubble. He wasn’t scared, however, but excited and filled with vigour. Aziraphale was determined to make his parents proud. He was determined to do well, to stay focused on his work, and not go to parties.
It was still the first week, and Aziraphale was having trouble finding his “Intro to Shakespeare” class. The lecture hall was practically full when he arrived, and Aziraphale slipped into a seat in the back. The professor began calling for attention to let the students know the class was starting. The door opened a few times, and more kids slipped in wordlessly.
“Is this seat taken?” A voice beside Aziraphale surprised him.
Aziraphale looked over to find a man with short, spiky, bright red hair. It was so red it had to be died. A thin silver necklace hung from his neck, his eyes half-hidden by shades. He was pointing to the seat next to Aziraphale with black painted nails.
“No.” Aziraphale replied.
The man fell into the seat, shrugging off a leather jacket to reveal a ragged band t-shirt. The man then threw skintight leather pant legs over the desk. Aziraphale could smell the lingering smell of smoke from him. Everything about the man screamed to Aziraphale that he was someone to stay away from. He was the exact kind of person his parents always warned him of. Aziraphale focused on reorganizing his notebook so that it would be as far away from his new seat partner as possible.
“Anthony J Crowley.”
Aziraphale looked over to find the man offering his hand, all casual-like.
“Aziraphale.” He hesitated to shake the hand, but Aziraphale had always been taught to be polite and proper.
“Come again?” The man’s grip was loose, flimsy-like as if he didn’t really care to shake hands.
“Aziraphale.”
The professor coughed loudly. “If you’re going to come late to my class, I’d prefer you to come in quietly.”
Aziraphale jumped, realizing the professor was looking right at them. He ducked his head in embarrassment.
“Sorry, professor.” Aziraphale’s seat partner spoke.
“You’ll have time to speak to your seat partners later.” The professor turned back to reading the syllabus.
Sure enough, after going through the syllabus, the professor had the students talk to their seat partners.
“This is your first year of university.” The professor said. “You may make your best friends here today. Or your worst enemy.”
Aziraphale flickered his eyes over to his seat partner.
“Or lover, perhaps.” The professor finished. There was snickering throughout the classroom.
Beside Aziraphale, Anthony repositioned himself, pulling his legs off the desk, turning to face Aziraphale. “What did you say your name was again? I didn’t catch it.”
“Aziraphale.” He tried again. “It’s an angel.”
“An angel?” Anthony pushed his sunglasses down slightly, and Aziraphale caught startling amber eyes beneath them. “Interesting name. Much better than Anthony.” He leaned back.
“Oh, I quite like Anthony. It means “priceless one”.”
“Why do you know a thing like that? I don’t even know what my own name means.”
“I just know a lot of things. I like knowing things.” Aziraphale straightened, folding his hands together.
Anthony hummed. “So what are you taking? What’s your major?”
“Language and literature. I hope to be a professor one day.” Aziraphale sat up proud. “What about you?”
“Music. I just like Shakespeare, so I figured what the hell.” He waved his hand flippantly.
“Yes, I quite like Shakespeare too.” Aziraphale smiled. “Do you have a favourite?”
Anthony shrugged. “Macbeth, maybe.” He turned towards the front of the class.
“Do you play an instrument?” Aziraphale asked politely.
“Oh, piano and guitar. Much prefer guitar, however.”
“What style of music?”
“Rock, punk, metal. Anything loud.” Anthony smiled wickedly over at Aziraphale.
“Oh. Right.” Aziraphale looked away.
“You got a favourite genre of music?”
“I don’t really listen to music much.” Aziraphale turned back.
“What?”
“My parents are very strict religious sort of people. They found anything besides hymns and classical to be devil music.”
“That’s bullshit. Tell me you don’t believe that now.”
Aziraphale wrung his hands. “I don’t know what I believe, to be honest.”
Crowley hummed and propped his feet back up on the desk.
“What dorm building are you staying in?” Aziraphale was still trying to be polite.
Anthony turned then, a smirk gracing his face.
The next week, Aziraphale sat in the same spot and was again graced with Anthony as a seat partner. He wasn’t late this time.
“Anthony. How are you?” Aziraphale greeted.
“Just call me Crowley. Only my parents call me Anthony. And I hate them as much as they hate me.”
“Oh.” Aziraphale wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
“I’m fine, though. You?”
They mostly kept to pleasantries for the first little while of being seat partners. That was until the first group assignment when suddenly Crowley turned to Aziraphale. “Do you want to work together?”
Crowley was the one to suggest they work at the school’s pub. Aziraphale was nervous as anything to even be sitting in there. The music wasn’t too loud, and Crowley found them at a table by the back where they could work undisturbed.
Crowley was smart. That was the first shock Aziraphale had regarding him. He understood Shakespeare well and knew how to word things in ways that made them sound eloquent. Crowley started rambling off a long spiel, half draped over the booth chair and turned to face out into the pub. Aziraphale struggled to keep up with Crowley’s thoughts, but he wanted to get every word down, for it was so well said.
“Does that make sense?” Crowley turned back around.
“Yes. It does.”
“I’m not very good at getting my thoughts onto paper, I’m afraid.”
“I got it all down. You spoke so well.”
Crowley hummed, looking away. “You do well in school?” He looked back.
“Oh yes.” Aziraphale nodded.
“I did shit. But most of the time I was smoking in the dugout…” He trailed off. “Most of my teachers thought I was a lost cause. Everyone but my English teacher.” He sighed. “Shall we continue?”
They got 100% on the report, and Aziraphale felt ecstatic. Even Crowley looked happy.
“We should celebrate.” Crowley smiled wickedly at Aziraphale. “Let me treat you to lunch.”
Aziraphale didn’t know how to refuse.
“Why do you always wear sunglasses?” Aziraphale dared to ask as they sat at a table in the cafeteria.
Crowley shrugged. “Think it looks cool.”
Aziraphale just hummed and took a cautious bite of his salad. He was regretting getting the salad, but he wanted to look like he ate healthy.
“So, what’s your home life like then?” Crowley asked, draping his arm across the back of the chair.
“It’s fine. I suppose.” Aziraphale stabbed some more lettuce leaves. “My parents have always been strict. They have high expectations of us. And they sheltered us most of our lives.”
Crowley hummed.
“What about you?”
“My parents could care two shits about me.” He pulled a ring off his finger to toy with. “Absent, drug and alcohol-addicted assholes, the both of them. Their toxicity fueled each other.” He spun the ring on the table, and Aziraphale watched it turn.
“I’m sorry.” Aziraphale offered.
“You dating anyone?” Crowley didn’t look up.
“Oh, no.” Aziraphale blushed and ducked his head. “I’ve never dated anyone before. You?”
“I dated around in high school. But not currently, no.”
-
Then, one day, Crowley handed Aziraphale a flyer. “I’m performing at this thing. You should come.”
Crowley’s performance was at the school’s bar and not too late. Aziraphale went with some excitement. A small band gathered on the stage, Crowley looking like a proper rockstar in leather and chains hanging from his waist. The bar wasn’t too busy, and Aziraphale found a table to sit at, casting a wave at Crowley. Crowley was busy tuning his guitar but soon noticed Aziraphale. A smile covered Crowley’s face, and he waved back. Aziraphale’s heart skipped a beat.
The girl at the mic spoke up to quiet the bar. Aziraphale settled in, quite excited to hear the performance. It soon began. It was loud rock music. It was not exactly the sort of thing Aziraphale liked or had ever listened to. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if they were good or not, but no one in the bar was booing the band. The girl at the mic had a good voice, but Aziraphale was entranced by watching Crowley on the guitar. Crowley’s whole body swayed and moved with the music, leaning this way and that. At one point, he started singing in his mic, and Aziraphale was shocked to find Crowley could sing very well.
The set ended after an hour, and the whole bar clapped for them. Aziraphale jumped up, wanting to congratulate them for a job well done. “You guys did so well.”
“Aziraphale.” Crowley smiled. “I didn’t think you’d come. Or stay the whole time. You liked the music?” Crowley started putting away his guitar.
“It was very loud.”
The woman chuckled at that.
“This is Harriet.” Crowley gestured. “Hastur and Ligur over there.” The other two waved awkwardly.
“Nice to meet you.” Aziraphale nodded politely.
“We’re going to a party to celebrate after we pack up. You want to come?” Harriet asked.
“Oh no. I couldn’t. I have schoolwork.”
“I don’t think the party would be Aziraphale’s sort of thing,” Crowley said, and Harriet nodded with a knowing look.
“Lovely performance. I’ll see you in class, Crowley,” Aziraphale told him as a sort of goodbye.
“Sure thing, angel.” Crowley flashed a grin towards Aziraphale that made him feel a bit stuttered. He wasn’t sure what to make of that and quickly ran out of the pub to his dorm.
-
Aziraphale busied himself with schoolwork. He saw Crowley in their Shakespeare class and would ask him about his day and other sorts of questions. They still worked together on assignments and such. But the semester was soon coming to an end, and Aziraphale felt strangely saddened to possibly never see Crowley again.
“What classes are you taking next semester?” Aziraphale asked.
Crowley rattled off his classes, and Aziraphale perked up to hear he was taking “Introduction to Latin.”
“You’re taking Latin?” Aziraphale asked.
Crowley shrugged. “Sounded interesting.”
“It’s only… I’m taking Latin next semester as well. Perhaps we’ll be in the same class.” They then pulled out their schedules to compare, and sure enough, they did.
“Oh, how wonderful!” Aziraphale smiled. Crowley’s features, however, were hard to read, especially with his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.
“Are you going home for the holidays?” Aziraphale asked.
Crowley shook his head. “I’ll never go back home if I can avoid it.”
Aziraphale felt sorry for him. “Will you not be having any celebrations then?” He asked.
“Harriet’s letting me join her family for the holiday.”
“Oh, that’s nice of her.”
“Yeah, she’s a good friend.”
Aziraphale went home and had a terrible holiday. It was the same old from his family. The only small part he enjoyed was the Christmas services at the church. He returned home from school with a small goodie basket, knowing exactly what he’d do with it. Aziraphale found Crowley’s dorm room and knocked on the door. It was Harriet who answered.
“Oh, Harriet. I’m looking for Crowley.”
“Oh, yes.” Harriet smiled. “Come in. Crowley!” She called.
Crowley came out of somewhere, looking half awake, dishevelled and not wearing his sunglasses.
“I told you not to wake me,” Crowley grumbled.
“Look who’s here.” Harriet gestured to Aziraphale.
Aziraphale’s breath stuttered as Crowley’s striking amber eyes met his. There was a small look of shock in Crowley’s expression upon seeing Aziraphale.
“I brought you a small present from home.” Aziraphale held it out, feeling rather awkward. He needed something to distract him from the way Crowley’s gaze was making him feel. “It’s nothing much.”
Crowley took the present slowly. “Aziraphale, you really didn’t have to do this.”
“Well, I wanted to. I’d like to hope we’re friends, at least. And this is the sort of thing friends do.”
Crowley looked up, a small smile forming on his face. “Friends.”
-
They began hanging out more then. Latin was just before lunch, so they often went to lunch afterward. Crowley always looked terrible, freezing away in the cold winter days. Aziraphale offered him his coat, and sometimes Crowley would wrap it over him throughout the whole class and into lunch. Aziraphale almost wanted Crowley to keep his coat, but Crowley always gave it back.
They’d sometimes work together on homework in the library. They didn’t always work on Latin. They more often than not worked on homework from other classes. Crowley said Aziraphale helped him stay focused, and Aziraphale often helped Crowley put his ramblings to paper. They frequently would get sidetracked just talking about random nonsense. Aziraphale immensely enjoyed his time with Crowley. He found their conversations very fulfilling and thoroughly enjoyed spending time with Crowley. Aziraphale felt a sort of rush of excitement whenever Crowley suggested they hang out to work or whenever Crowley agreed to join Aziraphale to do anything.
Aziraphale’s eyes would often linger over Crowley’s form. He’d noticed Crowley’s hair was getting longer, that he wasn’t keeping up with dying it so brightly red as much. Crowley’s nails were usually painted black, sometimes chipped. He liked to toy with the rings he usually wore. Aziraphale’s eyes often would watch Crowley’s long fingers doing whatever. Aziraphale always pushed whatever strange feelings he was experiencing deep down inside. It felt like something too scary to face fully on. Something he dared not address.
Aziraphale had started going to all of Crowley’s performances at the bar. He was beginning to enjoy it a bit more every time. Aziraphale, however, never went to the parties they invited him to. He still wasn’t comfortable with that.
Soon, the year was coming to a close, and the weather changed. Crowley quite seemed to enjoy the warmth and would invite Aziraphale out on walks around the campus outside. They’d stop by the campus greenhouse frequently and poke their heads in. Crowley seemed to know every plant as well as their scientific name. Aziraphale thought that in another life, perhaps Crowley would have become a botanist.
When the year ended, Aziraphale made Crowley promise to write to him. To tell him how his summer was going. Crowley smiled and nodded, saying, “I promise, angel.”
-
When Aziraphale returned to school, Crowley was the first person he looked for. They fell back into their normal familiarity as if they didn’t spend any time apart at all. They didn’t have any classes together that term, but they still studied together and helped each other out. Aziraphale still went to Crowley’s performances as well.
One day, at the end of the band’s set, Aziraphale came to run over and congratulate them as he always did. Another man was already running up on stage, suddenly pulling Crowley’s head to kiss him.
Aziraphale quickly looked away, his stomach turning over.
“Did you enjoy the performance, Aziraphale?” Harriet jumped down from the stage.
“Oh yes. I think you get better with every performance.” Aziraphale told her.
Harriet chuckled. “You mean to say you like it more?”
“Yes, well…” Aziraphale scratched his neck, glancing at where Crowley was hissing something to the man. “Crowley.” Aziraphale nodded awkwardly.
“Thanks for coming.” Crowley was holding the man at arm’s length. The other guy was glaring daggers into Aziraphale’s soul.
“Are you going out to celebrate again?” Aziraphale asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then, perhaps.”
“Yeah, see you.” Crowley nodded, his eyes dancing about nervously.
Aziraphale nodded politely and left.
Aziraphale tossed and turned in his bed that night. He kept replaying the kiss in his mind. It made him feel a bit sick. He’d always been taught, raised to believe that being gay was wrong, bad, that it was a sin. Aziraphale wasn’t sure what he thought anymore, but seeing the kiss was something he hadn’t been comfortable seeing.
The next day, Aziraphale went to his usual spot in the library to work. Soon later, Crowley found him. Crowley coughed to announce himself before approaching.
“Crowley.” Aziraphale nodded politely.
“Can I join you?” Crowley gestured down at the seat next to Aziraphale.
“But of course.”
“Okay. I was just worried because of last night.” He slowly sat down. “I know you’re a bit old-fashioned and religious.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Aziraphale busied himself organizing his loose papers.
“That guy who kissed me last night…” Crowley was drawing circles on the tabletop. “He’s kind of my boyfriend.”
“Oh.” Aziraphale dwelt on it for a moment. “I don’t have a problem with that. I don’t see why I should. After all, God calls us to love everyone.”
“Love the sinner,” Crowley muttered.
“You’re not a sinner.” Aziraphale turned, facing him. “I don’t believe that. And besides, we are all sinners. Even I.”
“Even you, angel? I find that hard to believe.” Crowley smiled, and Aziraphale chuckled.
“Does he have a name?” Aziraphale turned back to his notes. “This “kind of” boyfriend.”
Crowley sucked in a breath. “No, don’t think he does.” Crowley pulled off his ring, and it made a metal noise as it hit the desk.
Aziraphale chuckled again. “Well, as long as he makes you happy.”
“Yeah, for now.” Crowley twirled his ring on the table.
“For now?” Aziraphale raised his eyebrow to Crowley.
“Just forget about it, angel. I need your help with something.” Crowley picked his ring back up and put it back on. He turned to dig into his bag.
“Anything,” Aziraphale replied.
-
By the time Aziraphale learned Crowley’s boyfriend’s name, he was gone. A few months later, someone else appeared. Aziraphale didn’t feel any less uncomfortable seeing them kiss after a set. That guy left and was replaced by a woman. Aziraphale quite liked her; her name was Alice. Alice was nice, and they’d sit together during the shows. She’d swoon about how sexy she thought Crowley looked performing on stage. Aziraphale just nodded politely, letting his gaze get caught up in Crowley’s performance.
“So Alice…?” Aziraphale interrogated Crowley one day while they were working together. “I like her.”
“Yeah, she’s nice.”
“Those boys you dated…?”
“Pretty sure they were men.”
Aziraphale ignored Crowley’s comment. “Were they just a passing fling or an exploration?”
Crowley sucked in his breath. He turned to face Aziraphale. “I’m bisexual. Heard of it?” His voice was tinged with a slight ferocity.
Aziraphale didn’t take Crowley’s bitterness personally. He shook his head, for he had not, in fact, heard of the term.
“Sometimes people like both genders at the same time. I’m not confused or whatever.”
“I didn’t say you were.” Aziraphale didn’t want Crowley to be mad at him. “I just wanted to understand, that’s all.”
“Alright.” Crowley sighed and moved to lounge over the desk.
Alice left a few months later and was replaced with someone new. A guy again. Aziraphale was still working on being okay with seeing Crowley with men.
-
It was their third year, and Crowley hadn’t been dating anyone for a while. Aziraphale felt invigorated while at the band’s most recent performance. It had made him feel energetic and lively. The group was packing up as Aziraphale came over. He could hear them already talking about the party they were going to.
“Good show, Aziraphale?” Crowley asked with a smirk.
“Wonderous as always.” Aziraphale smiled back.
Crowley began putting his guitar away.
“Crowley. Do you think I could come with you to the party?”
Crowley’s head shot back, shock written all over his face. “You want to…? I really don’t know if it’ll be your thing, angel. It’ll be loud and crowded.”
“If it’s too much, I’ll just go home.”
“Don’t you have schoolwork?”
Aziraphale shook his head. “Already done it all. You know me. Always like to have a head start.” He smiled.
“Alright.” Crowley scratched his head. “I suppose. If you’d like.”
“Wonderful!”
Hastur and Ligur were whispering as they walked ahead of them to the party. They kept casting glances back at Aziraphale.
“It’s a bit chilly tonight,” Aziraphale stated, hugging himself. “Aren’t you freezing, Crowley?” Crowley was only wearing his leather jacket.
“Honestly, I don’t know why he doesn’t buy a coat.” Harriet chuckled. “He probably thinks he looks cool, freezing his ass off.” She slapped his butt playfully.
“Hey!” Crowley jumped away.
Aziraphale chuckled. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be comfortable with a friend of his slapping his butt like that.
Harriet stuck out her tongue and joined Hastur and Ligur in front of them.
“Have the two of you ever…?” Aziraphale began to ask.
“Harriet and I?! No.” Crowley shook his head fiercely. “We’re just friends.”
Aziraphale nodded.
They reached the house, and it most certainly was loud and packed.
“Come on. Let’s get something to drink.” Harriet called.
Aziraphale soon found Crowley offering him a red cup. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“One sip won’t kill me, I suppose.” Aziraphale took a cautious sip and cringed at the burning taste.
Crowley chuckled at his response. “Yeah, this cheap stuff sucks. But it’s all one can afford on a student’s salary.”
Aziraphale hummed and placed the drink down.
“So what do you want to do?”
“What does one do at a party?” Aziraphale inquired.
“Drink. Get wasted. Dance with a stranger. Sleep with said stranger.”
Aziraphale flushed at that.
“Come on. Let’s find you someone that catches your eye.” Suddenly, Crowley was popping his arm through Aziraphale’s, dragging him further into the house.
Together, they scanned the partygoers, Crowley pointing people out. “What about her?”
“Crowley…I…” Aziraphale felt nervous. “She’s fine, I suppose. They’re all fine.”
“Come on.” Crowley released Aziraphale’s arm. “What’s your type?”
“I’m not sure I have one. I haven’t really put much thought into it. I’ve always been fine being on my own.”
Crowley sighed. Aziraphale looked over the crowds once more. “I suppose she’s quite pretty.” He gestured awkwardly.
“There you go.” Crowley elbowed him. “Shall I play wingman?”
After introductions, Aziraphale was left alone with the woman, feeling incredibly nervous. He tried to talk to her about books, but that failed miserably. He ended up excusing himself, feeling like an absolute fool. He quickly found Crowley sitting on a couch, laughing at a joke with a group of guys.
“Aziraphale, your back already?” Crowley commented as Aziraphale slowly sat down next to him.
“It went terribly. I made an absolute fool of myself.” Aziraphale fell his head into his hands.
“Don’t say that. I’m sure you were charming.” Crowley patted his back gently. “There will always be others. Did you want to stay or go home?”
“I’ll stay.” Aziraphale sighed. “What were you talking about?”
Aziraphale listened to their conversations till a girl, Rachel, came over to ask Crowley if he wanted to dance.
“I’m not really in the mood. But my friend here is.” Crowley patted Aziraphale’s back.
“Oh, you don’t have to,” Aziraphale told her.
“I’ll dance with anyone who’s willing.” Rachel offered her hand. Aziraphale took it, a smile working its way on his lips.
He had a pleasurable night then, dancing with Rachel. She was carefree and giggled away. Rachel had to go to the washroom at one point. Aziraphale accompanied her to protect her outside the washroom. When she came out, she called him a true gentleman. Then Rachel announced that she needed some fresh air. Aziraphale awkwardly joined her. As soon as they were outside, Rachel’s lips suddenly found his. Aziraphale gasped in shock and gave Rachel a gentle push away.
“You didn’t want that?” Rachel inquired.
“I just…” Aziraphale started. “I want to ensure you’re not drunk.”
“Not that drunk.” She smiled, leaning closer. “Would you like to do it again?”
Aziraphale let her next kiss happen, trying to let every sensation wash over him. He’d always wondered what it’d be like to kiss someone. Rachel’s lips were wet and tasted like alcohol. Her body was slim, pressed up against him. A tongue pushed its way into his mouth, and Aziraphale pushed her away, his heart picking up.
“I’m sorry. I just don’t know if I….” Aziraphale stuttered.
“That’s alright.” Rachel giggled, tracing Aziraphale’s sides. “You want to lead then?”
Aziraphale looked at her lips. He wanted to try again. He’d never kissed anyone in his life. And here was a girl in his arms, asking him to kiss her. So Aziraphale did.
Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure what to make of the kiss. He just wanted to know what it felt like, what it tasted like. He drew away and pushed Rachel’s hair back.
“You’re quite lovely.” He told her.
Rachel chuckled and ducked her head. “You certainly are a gentleman. How is Crowley a friend of yours?”
“I’m not really sure,” Aziraphale replied. “Thank you for the enjoyable night. And the kiss.”
“That’s it then?”
Aziraphale nodded, and Rachel sighed.
“Alright.” She pushed herself away from Aziraphale, her eyes flickering around the backyard. “Speaking of Crowley.”
Aziraphale followed her eyes to see Crowley smoking in a small group of guys. The low light of the cigarette illuminated his face. Rachel started walking over, and Aziraphale followed after her. Rachel reached Crowley first, draping her arm over his shoulder. She whispered something into Crowley’s ear, causing him to look back at Aziraphale. Rachel then disappeared, smiling once more at Aziraphale as a goodbye.
Crowley had disposed of his cigarette to come over to Aziraphale, wearing a big smile. “Congratulations, man!” He raised his hand to the air, holding it up to Aziraphale.
Aziraphale high-fived Crowley before ducking his head with a blush.
“Don’t be embarrassed. That was your first kiss, wasn’t it?” Crowley sounded excited for him.
“It was.” Aziraphale nodded. “I think I’d like to go home now.”
“Of course.”
Aziraphale didn’t feel bad about the kiss. Just a little awkward. That was all. He kept trying to recall it to determine if he liked it or not. It was hard to say.
A few weeks later, Aziraphale joined Crowley’s band at another party. Rachel wasn’t there, and so Aziraphale stayed by Crowley’s side.
“Go dance.” Crowley encouraged him.
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll go with you.” Crowley got up and pulled Aziraphale to the dancing. Crowley found them partners and they had an enjoyable evening indeed.
-
A few more parties later, Aziraphale began to feel more comfortable. He could even get through one cup of drink with barely cringing. He learned he liked the sugary, fruity drinks. The ones typically deemed girly. But they didn’t burn his throat so much. His drink one night barely tasted of alcohol at all. He kept drinking it as he and Crowley talked about utter nonsense, sitting beside each other on a couch. Aziraphale felt warm inside and a bit lightheaded, but he kept drinking. Crowley had wormed his way closer, slurring his words together. Crowley hissed in Aziraphale’s ear so Aziraphale could hear him over the music. Aziraphale raised his cup before realizing he’d finished his second glass.
“Oh, it’s all gone.” Aziraphale pouted sadly. It had been very delicious.
“Don’ts be sad.” Crowley’s hand was suddenly cupping his face. “Yours too pretty to be sad.” He slurred.
Aziraphale’s breath left him as they met eyes; Crowley had forgone his sunglasses that night. Then suddenly, Crowley was meeting Aziraphale’s lips in a harsh kiss. It hurt a little the way Crowley banged against Aziraphale’s mouth and grasped at Aziraphale’s hair. But warm, wet lips were against Aziraphale’s, tasting of sweet alcohol. Aziraphale let out a moan as a tongue slipped in. Everything was hazy then. Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s other hand grasp his waist. Aziraphale wanted to melt into Crowley, to have him kiss deeper.
But all too soon, all too sudden, Crowley was pulling away. “Shit.” He swore, slowly loosening himself from Aziraphale. “Sorry, angel. I’ms too drunk right now. Keeps forgetting your straight.” He slurred.
Aziraphale’s heart was racing in his chest, his head spinning. “S’okay.” He suddenly hiccupped and blushed in embarrassment.
“Fuck, we’re both drunk. Should take yous home. We’ll forget about t’iss all in the morning.”
Aziraphale’s heart pounded as he woke up. He blinked to find himself not in his room. There were posters of bands on the wall. The sheets smelled like smoke and…Crowley. Aziraphale realized then that he was in Crowley’s room. That jolted him wide awake.
Aziraphale slowly slunk out of the room, his head pounding like anything. He found the washroom first. Afterward, Aziraphale came out and heard loud snoring from the living room. Aziraphale poked his head over and found Crowley sprawled out on the couch on his stomach, snoring away. Aziraphale smiled weakly.
“Coffee?” He heard a soft voice and looked up to see Harriet in the kitchen.
“Yes.” Aziraphale walked over. “Is this what being hung over feels like?” He sat down and massaged his head.
Harriet chuckled. “I took you and Crowley home last night. Crowley insisted you sleep in his bed. Nothing happened, I can assure you.”
But something had.
Harriet turned away to prepare the coffee, and Aziraphale looked over at Crowley on the couch.
“He kissed me,” Aziraphale told Harriet softly.
“Oh.” Harriet looked back to Aziraphale and sighed. “Yeah, we all saw that one coming. Surprised it didn’t happen sooner.” She sighed again. “How do you feel about that?”
“He was drunk. We both were.” Aziraphale laughed uncomfortably.
Harriet nodded.
“And besides…” Aziraphale rubbed his arm. “We’re just friends.”
Crowley woke up a bit later, looking very groggy. Harriet thrust a coffee into his hands as Crowley sunk into the kitchen chair, rubbing his temples.
“How you feeling, angel?” Crowley looked over, gorgy.
“A bit better. But I dare say I’ll never drink that much again.” Aziraphale replied.
Crowley hummed into his coffee cup. “Sorry about last night.”
“It doesn’t have to mean anything. We don’t have to speak of it ever again.” Aziraphale felt it might be better if they never did. He really wasn’t sure what to make of the whole thing.
-
Time passed, and they didn’t speak of the kiss ever again. It haunted Aziraphale, though. He began seeing Crowley in a new light. At Crowley’s performances, Aziraphale would watch, enraptured, remembering how Alice spoke of Crowley. Sometimes, when they were hanging out alone, Aziraphale would feel nervous and cast glances at Crowley fiddling with his ring. When they went to parties, Aziraphale drank barely anything, fearful of a recurrence of the night. Crowley still drank away and would sometimes fall against Aziraphale. Aziraphale tried not to let it get to his head. He’d let Crowley go off for a smoke, encouraging him to flirt with other guys. Aziraphale felt it might be better if Crowley started dating again. Then Aziraphale could…Aziraphale wasn’t sure.
-
It was during the summer that Aziraphale began to wonder if the reason why he was never so interested in women might be because he was interested in men. That was a scary thought, indeed. The realization terrified him.
Out on walks and at the beach, Aziraphale let his eyes wander over men. There was certainly an appeal to them. But Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he felt anything more than he felt towards women. Aziraphale let himself imagine marrying or being with a man compared to a woman. He felt excitement about that idea. But whenever Aziraphale let himself think about it, he always ended up picturing Crowley.
As the summer ended, Aziraphale recalled all those times when he let his eyes wander about Crowley. Aziraphale remembered how his heart or breath stuttered every time Crowley’s stunning eyes and wicked smile landed on him. The memory of the desire Aziraphale felt during their drunken kiss came back to him. It hit Aziraphale like a tidal wave. He was attracted to Crowley.
-
It was their last year, and Aziraphale felt nervous as ever around Crowley with his newfound revelation.
“What are you going to do after school?” Aziraphale asked one day.
“Travel the world. Live off performing at clubs. Live on the roads. That’s the dream. What’s your dream?”
“I would like to settle down. Start a family. I still hope to become a professor one day.”
“You’ll never stop studying, will you?” Crowley teased, and Aziraphale ducked his head.
“I do like learning so.”
“I know.” Crowley smiled.
It seemed that their dreams were too drastically different. Crowley didn’t seem to ever want to settle down, to want kids, a family. But Aziraphale most certainly wanted one. He’d released that he’d ruin their friendship if he admitted his feelings for Crowley. But he’d also be asking Crowley to give up on himself, on his dreams. So Aziraphale surrendered himself to letting Crowley go.
Only, it became so much harder when the day came to say goodbye.
“You could come with me for the summer.” Crowley offered. “Might be fun.”
“I don’t know.” Aziraphale looked away. “My parents would never approve.”
“You should do things you want to do. Not just the things your parents want.”
Aziraphale kept his eyes away, and suddenly, tears started falling.
“Aziraphale.” Crowley rushed to his side, holding Aziraphale’s head up and wiping tears away. “Aziraphale, what is it?”
“I don’t want you to go.”
“I know. I don’t either.” Crowley’s thumb against Aziraphale’s cheek felt reassuring. Aziraphale melted into it, closing his eyes.
Aziraphale opened his eyes and pushed Crowley’s sunglasses up to look into his beautiful amber eyes. Crowley was looking at him so softly. Aziraphale almost let his feelings slip out then, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t drop this on Crowley and ruin all his hopes and dreams. Besides, what would it mean for Aziraphale? He still was so unsure, and then there was his family.
“You’ll write to me?” Aziraphale asked instead. “You promise? We’ll still be friends?”
Crowley nodded, his eyes soft. “I’ll become a famous rock star, and you’ll become the most handsome professor with a dotting partner and five kids to boot.”
Aziraphale chuckled.
“Be happy for me, angel.”
“You too.” Aziraphale longed for a kiss, but it never came.
Then, Crowley left.