Changing Places

"So what do we do now?" Crowley adjusted his bow tie.

"Go on as normal, I think. Occupy ourselves. Await the crisis." It was disconcerting, watching his body fidget like that. It was a pretty good body, now he saw it from the outside. Those thighs may not be as satisfyingly solid as Aziraphale's, but they looked fantastic in black trousers.

Crowley stepped closer and ran his hands down them, pulling him—Aziraphale—closer. "I have some ideas on how to occupy ourselves. You know, I wish I'd realised centuries ago how much this body wants that body. Would've made things easier."

Aziraphale slapped his hands lightly, not seeming particularly offended. "Technically, that's still your body, or this entire plan wouldn't work. So all we've actually established is that you've fallen victim to the sin of vanity, among others. Or that—th-that you..." He began to stammer.

"Want you? Yeah, old news, my love. Thousands of years old." He slid his hands up to slightly more chaste regions. "Want you so much," he hissed, or tried to hiss. The angel's tongue wasn't really built for it. "Have we discussed the sin of lust, yet?"

"I don't want to act suspiciously." Aziraphale pushed his lower lip out stubbornly. "We need to carry on like normal."

"Hell, I know I never looked as adorable as you do right now. I'm pretty sure I never pouted. It's weird for me, too." It was strange, also, pressing kisses along his own cheekbone, but he couldn't resist it anyway. "Look, this could be acting normal. Both Heaven and Hell probably assume we're shacked up already by now. "

"You're more right than you think." Aziraphale shivered, and turned his mouth to be kissed. "Nevertheless, it's no good staying here. We need to lure them into the open and get it over with. Then—we have eternity to work things out between us, if you like."

"I do like. I like a lot. I have a lot of lost time to make up for."

"You have no idea how unsettling it is to see such a fiendish expression on my face." Crowley grinned lasciviously at him. "Oh, my dear fellow, that's even worse."

"Well, I think I look fetching blushing."

"Yes, you always do." Aziraphale smiled fondly.

"I never blush," Crowley protested, outraged. "I'm a demon. Demons have no shame and we certainly don't blush."

"Tell yourself that if it makes you feel more infernal, you deceptive serpent. Feeling infernal can only help with hellfire. Now, if it wasn't for—this—I would be..." A shadow passed over the sharp face. "Seeing if anything about my bookstore could be saved or restored."

Crowley melted at the sudden sadness. "I'll check on it for you, my love." He managed to bite back some completely ridiculous promises to do anything in the world. He was dimly aware of having lost all remnants of restraint and dignity over the last few hours, and didn't much care.

"Thank you, dearest." Aziraphale caressed his face. How did yellow bulging eyes manage to look so very tender? "I'll leave later. See you at the usual place?"

"Yeah." Crowley reluctantly disengaged himself. "Aziraphale?"

"Hmm?"

"If those bastards Down There hurt you, I'll make them spend the next million milennia wishing for the mercy of holy water."

It was an empty threat, but Aziraphale smiled kindly anyway. "Thank you, dear. But it won't be necessary. Mind how you go, Crowley."

"And you. Especially you, angel."

0000000000

At some point in the whole dizzying and terrifying and extremely satisfying—he would never forget Sandalphon's face —succeeding events, Crowley had the time to reflect on how he had been acting and be properly embarassed. Poor angel kissed him once, possibly even with chaste intent, and Crowley had immediately turned into a pushy, needy monster. Very uncool.

It had taken Aziraphale this long to get to this point. Crowley could back off and take it slowly and not frighten him off straight away or smother him. By Satan, he was supposed to be a dark, mysterious loner in black glasses. A lone snake who had defied Heaven and Hell and got away with it. He had to get a better hold of himself.

He managed to not touch Aziraphale on the park bench, even if he lolled around on the bench a bit more consciously sexily than usual, and not try to hold his hand like a lovesick teenager on the way to the Ritz. He could enjoy the sunshine of Aziraphale's attention without being all over him, just like he always had. Enjoy watching him enjoy his food. Cool. He could be cool.

Bastard angel messed it all up by toasting the world with a glowing, melting, adoring expression that made Crowley be willing to fall all over again if he could just ask if he was the world to Aziraphale and be assured of a positive response.

He tried to change the subject. "All right. So, what now? You explore actually being a bookseller and passing on some books to potential buyers, or finally admit to yourself you're just being greedy and acquisitive and worshipping material objects?"

Aziraphale looked hurt. "Dear boy, it is an excellent cover. Besides, they are not just material objects. They contain thoughts, words, emotions..."

"But do we need a cover now?" Crowley leaned back in his seat. "Our bosses just tried to kill us. Might suggest we are free agents."

Aziraphale's expression changed in the way that always reminded Crowley that the angel was never quite as soft as he looked. "I give them ten years to decide that this was all part of the Ineffable Plan and pretend to themselves they were just testing my holiness. An apology is too much to expect, but Uriel might give me another gold star. I shall frame it," he added, biting into his dessert with some viciousness.

"You've got a point. I reckon my lot will take even less time to decide that a super powered demon is an asset. And God, as usual, will not talk to any of us about it."

Aziraphale ignored the jab, for once. "I like doing miracles and blessings," he said, wistfully. "I love helping people find the good in themselves. I like my job."

"Yeah, it is fun, isn't it? I like it when their eyes light up. So endearing. And I quite enjoy a bit of tempting, myself." He grinned. "Do you enjoy doing temptations for me?"

Aziraphale harrumphed and avoided his gaze. Crowley laughed.

"So perhaps we should just carry on with the Arrangement as normal," Aziraphale said.

Fuck his resolutions. He covered Aziraphale's hand quickly with his own, leaning across the table, enjoying the brief stab of pain from the skin contact. He could get used to that. He dropped his voice to a low purr. " Exactly as normal, my love?"

"Well, not um—um exactly, no." Aziraphale said, turning beet red. "I mean, I was assuming you, I mean we, I mean I was hoping--"

"Look, I know I took credit for inventing PDA as a form of malicious embarrassment, but I also know how much you enjoy the rum baba here, so stop looking so flustered before you tempt me into doing anything that gets us both thrown out." One of the waiters was already discreetly smiling at them, probably thinking aw, look at the old couple being sweet together. He would have been shocked to know how old they really were.

"Oh. Really?" That was definitely Crowley thought, a hopeful note. "So, I suppose, the traditional query is, ah, your place or mine?"

The world spun for a second. Crowley tightened the grip of his hand and tried to keep his voice calm. "Do you even have a bedroom?"

"Well, no. I never saw the point."

"They're very comfortable. I'll be sure to teach you the point. Stay here in Mayfair, then, it's less than three minutes from the Soho shop."

"Maybe the way you drive."

"Come home with me, love. Now." He ran a thumb over the back of Aziraphale's hand.

"Is it really a home? I didn't sense much love there." The same gentle, pitying, slightly disappointed look that he had given the flat. "My shop knowsit is loved."

"It's a place to go. And this morning—at breakfast it felt like home. It probably needs more food in the fridge, granted. Cushions. Books on the floor. Regency silver snuffboxes. Whatever it takes to make you feel at home. I'll drop you off to work every morning or evening or whenever you decide to open the blessed shop. Come on, angel, help me out, I'm trying to propose here." So much for being cool. His heart was pounding in his ears.

"You're what ?"

"I think the houseplants get lonely when I'm out. They could use someone nice to talk to."

"Crowley".

"Don't sound so taken aback. You kissed me first." He stared at their hands, at the way Aziraphale had curled his fingers possessively around his own. He certainly wasn't trying to withdraw them. There was that. "Too fast?" He dared to look up, and it was the fierce blazing angelic countenance again. He tried to meet it with one of his own. After all, he was of angelic stock, too. "You were still afraid this was just a seduction, weren't you? Pushing you bit by bit into comprimising your principles. Angel. My angel." He brought his other hand to the table, put it to the other side of Aziraphale's, so that his hand was clasped in both of his. "Not much bloody point to that kind of thing between us any more, is it?"

"None at all." Aziraphale crumpled his napkin with an air of decision. "Take me home."

They made it to the Bentley, which Crowley had left at the side of the road in the consciousness that parking regulations happened to other people, before Crowley lost his resolution to brook no  delays and pushed Aziraphale against the car for just one kiss on the way.

As the angel pulled him even closer and opened his mouth to him, Crowley was almost sure he heard birdsong.

Notes:

1) Okay, I lied. It's not finished. Even though 10 would have been a nice round number of chapters.

2) The day before yesterday was my eleven year wedding anniversary with romana03. Well, one of them. We had a civil partnership first, then a wedding. We celebrate both. But true love forever is obviously very much on my mind, and I did warn this would be shamelessly sappy.

3) I totally would not find myself attractive. But. Crowley.