Chapter Text
Crowley had been living with Aziraphale for almost a full month. She came to the church after Aziraphale’s Sunday service, surprising him with lunch.
“Crowley, what are you doing here?” Aziraphale jolted at the sight of her.
“Come to see how your sermon went. I thought you might like lunch. And Warlock needed fresh air.”
Aziraphale happily accepted Warlock from her so she could carry the lunch she’d brought with more ease. He then coaxed her to sit down at a table in the gathering room. They sat down and ate their lunch as Aziraphale bounced Warlock on his knee whilst making faces at the babe.
“I’ve reached out to my aunt,” Crowley spoke up, and Aziraphale looked up to her. “She offered that I could stay with her.”
“Oh,”
“We haven’t spoken in some time. She lives in England.”
“England!” He jolted.
“I could get a job there. It’d be good for Warlock.” She looked to her child, and Aziraphale fixed the lad’s shirt.
“Yes, but…” Aziraphale looked back up to her. “Are you sure you want to move that far?”
She didn’t respond, her eyes flicking away.
They only talked about it lightly, about Crowley leaving. They only talked about the kinds of things she might need to prepare as to leave. Aziraphale helped with the bank accounts and helped her get Warlock to health checkups and the such. Aziraphale found he didn’t want them to leave. Even with the hair on the shower wall, even with how the dishes and laundry piled up. He’d grown used to it all. He found he’d be lonely with no one to converse with at night. He didn’t want to go back to living alone again. And he absolutely adored Warlock. He would surely miss the lad. Aziraphale feared for Crowley too. He wanted to be the one protecting her, looking after her, selfishly. Aziraphale prayed to God about it often.
“Please, God, help me accept whatever path you have in store for Crowley and Warlock. Help me accept whatever is best for them.”
-
They enjoyed a lovely walk to the library one evening. Aziraphale read some kid books to Warlock in the living room when they returned home, and Crowley smiled while watching on. They called it early that night, no music or wine.
Aziraphale went to his room to read by his small light as Crowley got Warlock to bed. Aziraphale caught Crowley singing Warlock to sleep, smiling to himself. Things were quiet then, and Aziraphale continued his book; it was quite enrapturing. Aziraphale noted the time. He usually put his book down after a certain time at night so as not to stay up so late, but tonight, he was too enthralled to put it down. He just had to read one more chapter. Aziraphale figured that he didn’t have anything happening the next morning, so it wouldn’t hurt him to stay up later. So he kept reading.
As Aziraphale read, he heard a soft noise, almost like a moan and the creak of a bed. Aziraphale wondered if Warlock was already waking back up. But it wasn’t like Warlock to wake so quickly after just being put to bed. He’d at least wait till two o’clock.
When the noise came again, Aziraphale recognized it as Crowley and thought she must be repositioning in bed to get comfortable. But then another creak and moan came, along with an almost stifled, sharp breath.
Oh
Aziraphale’s heart picked up. She wasn’t…was she? He flushed hot to think of it. He tried to focus back on his book, but his ear was listening sharp, unsure if he heard right. It came again a bit louder, needier. He jolted again, feeling redder in the face. There was no denying what was occurring in the other room now. But with Warlock in the room? Well, surely he was asleep. Which was what Aziraphale should have been too. The noises continued and Aziraphale felt rather uncomfortable indeed. He was unsure of what to do and how to distract himself. Aziraphale felt she was free to do what she wanted. He was supposed to be asleep, and she was in the privacy of a separate room. Aziraphale figured she had needs and desires. His face went red again. His mind flickered then to the flashes he sometimes got of her bare, pale, slim legs.
Oh, god. Aziraphale couldn’t think of her like that; it was inappropriate.
Aziraphale had never really thought of a woman like that before. He had never pursued a relationship despite not taking any vows of chastity or otherwise. He believed he was destined to be like Paul, who served the Lord faithfully and never married. But, of course, Aziraphale wasn’t opposed to the idea of marriage. It wasn’t like a lovely woman might not catch his eye on occasion. Aziraphale never let himself look lustfully, however. After all, Jesus said, “Whoever looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart. If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away.” (Mathew 5: 28-29). But it wasn’t like Aziraphale hadn’t been completely oblivious to Crowley’s beauty.
Thankfully, the noises stopped, and Aziraphale stayed completely still while she got up to go to the washroom. After a long time, as long as he thought was appropriate; as long as he thought would not alert her to anything, maybe even longer, Aziraphale slipped out to the washroom as well.
“She has to go,” Aziraphale thought then, suddenly realizing their situation (an unwed man and woman living together) might not be appropriate as for her to stay any longer.
-
“A visit,” Crowley called it. “To see if I like it there.”
Aziraphale’s heart felt sad.
“Please, Lord, help me accept this as the best thing for Crowley and Warlock.”
The next few days they spent preparing for Crowley’s trip.
“And you have everything?” Aziraphale worried over Crowley as they began packing his car to head to the airport for Crowley and Warlock’s flight.
“Yes, we’ll be fine.”
Aziraphale met her eyes then. They seemed sad.
“All right, let’s get Warlock into the car,” Aziraphale stated, taking in a breath.
Warlock started crying as soon as Crowley got him into his car seat. “Oh, Warlock. It’ll be alright.” Crowley struggled with Warlock’s buckles. “It’ll be just a short trip. Please, be good for me.”
Warlock started kicking and thrashing, making buckling him in almost impossible for Crowley. It didn’t help that Crowley’s hands had started to tremble.
“Let me find his toy.” Aziraphale dug into the baby bag to pull out Warlock’s toy, thrusting it to her. But Aziraphale found her wiping away tears.
“Oh, darling.” He said softly, gently.
“It’s fine.” She sniffled, struggling to contain her tears. “I told myself I wouldn’t get emotional.”
“It’s okay to get emotional.” He assured her, barely holding his hand back to comfort her, feeling she might not be comfortable with that.
“It’s just a trip. But you’ve been so kind. And I’ve never…” She sniffled, looking at him with a weary smile, tears glistening in her eyes. “You were… are… an angel.”
He felt his heart warm at that as they locked eyes, standing there looking at each other. Warlock’s cries were a distant noise. Suddenly, the next thing Aziraphale knew, she was leaning in to kiss him. He jolted at that, caught off guard.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have.” She pulled away quickly. “I ruin everything.”
“No, it’s alright. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.” Aziraphale felt flustered as anything. “Um…” He flicked his eyes around, checking in on Warlock, who was tiring himself out with his crying. Aziraphale looked back to Crowley, who had also been checking in on Warlock as well.
“I don’t want to go.” Crowley told Aziraphale.
“You don’t have to.”
They then cancelled the trip with quiet words about how Warlock was too young for such a big trip. As if they were more trying to convince themselves. There was an awkward moment afterwards when Warlock was put to bed. They sat in the living room together, the things from the car all brought back in and scattered in the living room with them. Aziraphale offered wine as something. She accepted the glass from him.
“Why’d you never marry?” She inquired lightly as he sat down. “Did you like...make vows?”
“I’m not a priest.”
She cracked a smile at that.
“Thank you, Aziraphale, for everything.” She reached her hand to his arm lightly.
“Only out of the goodness of my own heart. For no other intentions, I assure you.” He placed his hand over hers, gently.
“And that’s why you’re better than any other man I’ve been with.”
The next thing, they were kissing again. Aziraphale wasn’t really sure who started it or how to stop it, or if he wanted to. He was unsure, cautious of touching. But her lips, her kiss. Oh, it was as if heaven was her.
Things were awkward then. Aziraphale brushed her arm before apologizing, bright red, but she was smiling.
“I think we should call it a night.” He said then.
-
Aziraphale went out the next day, not purposely avoiding her, but rather flustered about the whole thing indeed. When he returned for dinner, he greeted her warmly. As he started dinner, she was brushing past him, offering her assistance. Aziraphale’s heart was racing something fierce with her so near, barely touching him with just a brush. After dinner, they went back to kissing on the couch in the living room. Aziraphale’s hand was at her waist, thumb brushing. It got under her shirt, and it brushed her skin. She gasped and recoiled.
“I’m sorry, darling.” He rushed to apologize.
“No, it’s okay.” She rubbed her hand over her other arm, looking down. “I’m just…still…”
“I’d never hurt you.” He tried to assure.
She looked up, eye soft. “I know.”
-
The idea of Crowley leaving disappeared entirely. The next thing Aziraphale knew, she was in his bed, swapping sad stories. They just lay there as he brushed her hair back, taking in her beauty.
“Aren’t I a bit old for you?” He dared to bring up.
“You’re sturdy, stable. You’re my angel.” She kissed his cheek, and he flushed. He didn’t mention his age again, though.
When they were finally intimate, Aziraphale was sure he’d died and gone to heaven or that he might, for his heart was beating so. He felt he could have quote "Song of Songs" to her (chapter four in particular)[1].
After their intimacy, he drew her a bath and lavished her in sweet comforts to assure her she’d be safe and protected and that he wasn’t going anywhere.
Aziraphale took on more care of Warlock, and Crowley allowed him to do so. He helped with changing Warlock and putting him to bed. Aziraphale cherished spending more time with the boy and having these perish moments with him.
Suddenly, they were a constant in his life. Crowley was always nudging and prying at Aziraphale’s beliefs. If any part of loving her was wrong, he’d happily go to hell, for she was worth it. And she was more real than any God Aziraphale had known. Blasphemy, she’d say to him. But Aziraphale found he didn’t care about that sort of thing with her around. Aziraphale’s sermons became a bit more fierce, and other times, they were utterly boring as if he didn’t care at all. In truth, sometimes he wondered if he’d ever truly feel the passion for Christ he once had. But who was God compared to her?[2]
Aziraphale came home once to her in a simple dress. She smiled coyly at him and opened her legs to expose nothing underneath, fully on display.
“Oh, darling.” Aziraphale’s breath hitched, heart beating.
“Can I tempt an angel such as yourself?”
“Oh, you do tempt me, you wily creature.”
-
Aziraphale’s members dwindled until, eventually, a vote came to close the church. It was in agreement to do so. Aziraphale felt mild sadness as the time came to pass. He was unsure what to do with himself, with his church. He then started advocating for the transformation of his church into a youth help center. Aziraphale helped run the centre. The old church sign now had a huge Pride flag on it. Aziraphale wondered what his elder members would think. Aziraphale wasn’t as involved with any pastoral duties anymore (though he still made visits to old members sometimes for their comfort). Sometimes, when a young child came in crying about God not accepting them, Aziraphale would offer his comfort and support where he could.
Crowley came around often and frequently; everyone loved her. Everyone loved Warlock too. Warlock had grown up into quite the unruly, wild toddler and he was rather hard to mange indeed. Sometimes, Aziraphale agreed with Crowley that Warlock was surely the spawn of Satan or hell itself.
“Are you married?” One of the youth asked Aziraphale one day. They were looking at Aziraphale’s ringless hand and then to Crowley, who was trying to wrangle the running about Warlock.
“Oh,” Aziraphale stuttered.
Aziraphale had thought briefly of making a proper thing of what they had. But Aziraphale imagined that she’d probably not be for that.
“You don’t need to be married to stay loyal to someone, to show your love.” Aziraphale said in return.
Aziraphale was still watching Crowley, who’d caught Warlock up in her arms, chastising the toddler by calling him a naughty boy. Crowley must have caught Aziraphale’s words for she turned to him with a smiled and came over with Warlock in her arms.
“He’d want an old-fashioned, religious ceremony.” Crowley told the young chap Aziraphale had been speaking to. “And I couldn’t for stand that.”
“I’d never, darling.” Aziraphale shook his head. “You know that. I’d only ever do what you wanted.”
“You only ever do, angel.” Crowley kissed Aziraphale whilst giving him Warlock.
[1] Snippets (NIV): “How beautiful you are, my darling! Oh, how beautiful! Your eyes behind your veil are doves. Your hair is like a flock of goats. Your breasts are like two fawns, like twin fawns of a gazelle that browse among the lilies. You are altogether beautiful, my darling; there is no flaw in you. You have stolen my heart, my bride; you have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes, with one jewel of your necklace. How delightful is your love, my bride! How much more pleasing is your love than wine, and the fragrance of your perfume more than any spice! Your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my bride; milk and honey are under your tongue.”
[2] https://www.tumblr.com/lordendsavior/619177094950072448/maybecowboycore-when-adam-bit-the-apple-he-did?source=share