Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley

That night was nothing ordinary and nothing stranger than usual, but it was still a perfect night as both an angel and a demon thought so. It was a ritual, now more frequent after all Armagedidn't thingy. Firstly, meeting at St. James Park, feeding ducks. Then the dinner at the Ritz with a few glasses of champange which are slowly replaced by wine once Crowley drops them at Aziraphale's bookshop.

It is a peacefull atmosphere, the broken but somehow still-working gramophone plays some slow, slightly boring music if any of them even tried to listen to it. It played just so it wouldn't let any silence settle in. Silence meant loneliness and that was a shadowish feeling both Crowley and Aziraphale feared they will start to feel now that they have chosen their own side. They weren't aware this wasn't possible. After all, it is not like Heaven or Hell ever tried to keep them company, and if they did, it certainly wasn't pleasant.

Their company was pleasant. No. It was more then pleasant, both could tell. Crowley was aware that even Bentley seemed cold without Aziraphale's presence on passenger's sit. And Aziraphale was aware that piles of books in his bookshop resembled a desert without a certain demonic presence. Not that they would admit that. At least they wouldn't say, but they could show.

"You know, angel, it was good to see Heaven. I've almost forgotten how incredibly dull that place is. I mean, I like open space concepts, but without addition of douche, sparkly bunch of snobbish dudes. How ineffably boring place."

Crowley spoke, sprawling on Aziraphale's couch. The furniture possessed some silly pattern as most of Aziraphale's things. The demon found himself surprisingly often reflecting upon themselves, how he liked open space while Aziraphale had horror vacui (fear of empty space, a term known for romanesque and gothic style of relief sculpting. I've never liked it.). It is no wonder why he liked tartan. It was regular like Heaven, but never spacious like it.

"Well...It was bearable. Until hoverboards came. That just crossed every line."

Aziraphale blurted out, alcohol slowly pulling a hazy curtain over his mind. Crowley couldn't help but laugh. Well, it was already hilarious seeing angels going around on that thing, but imagining Aziraphale trying to operate hoverboard was something utterly precious.

"I assume it recalls some rather unpleasant memories, am I right?"

Crowley playfully smirked at him, raising his eyebrows and stretching his long legs even further, and wider. Aziraphale gently glared at him, because only an angel can perform a gentle glare.

"Well, your flat would be a perfect ground for that. Until you fall and break something, either an arm or that nice statue of yours."

For a moment, Crowley wanted to ask on which statue did Aziraphale mean, but it was off-topic and his expression slightly changed when he remembered angel looking at one particular statue at his flat. Instead, Crowley leaned forward, waving with a bottle of wine as he tried to pour it into his glass. Aziraphale just watched him from the armchair next to sofa, holding his glass with both hands already.

"You really think my sauntering skills are the one of an angel? Your lot, well, your ex-lot, does not dance at all. Demons, on the other hand, dance occasionally. And if you ignore with who you are surrounded, their glares and the fact that they would very much like to choke you...it can be fun. In a way."

Crowley said, slightly grimacing as he remembered all the ugly faces he would gladly squirt holy water at with cheap plant mister. Aziraphale looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, his eyes now darker and certainly not as clear as they were few minutes ago. The bottles were getting empty.

"How could you dance between those piles of rubbish you have down there?"

"Not my department."

Crowley imitated the most annoyingly Gabriel-like voice ever and made Aziraphale laugh until the angel blushed. Well, it was strange to mock your boss after obeying him for more than 6,000 years.

"But..."

Crowley said, raising his forefinger which was now pointed at the pile of books left of Aziraphale and in next second at the angel, while it was already ready to point something else. Nothing of sauntering skills under the influence of alcohol, I'm afraid.

"Your bookshop basically resembles that kind of place, piled and stuffed. I mean, it would be like dancing in your bookshop. Have you ever danced in your bookshop?"

"No, I did not. Are you comparing my bookshop with Hell?"

Aziraphale questioned Crowley, slightly furrowing his eyebrows as the demon chuckled, but that smile was not completely humorous.

"Well, it is full of stuff. You are not the most organised person. It does resemble Hell, but no. I would never compare your bookshop with it. You know I like it here."

Aziraphale almost choked on his wine which he was taking a sip of. He widened his eyes as he looked at his equally drunken companion. Crowley smirked slightly, leaning back on the sofa.

"You do? But you hate tartan and you are certainly not fan of books."

Aziraphale stated in surprised voice. Crowley frowned, finally discarding his sunglasses, throwing them in the unknown corner of bookshop.

"I never said I hate tartan. It is just outdated and not stylish at all."

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, and demon's gaze seemed softer and more sincere. It caught angel's attention. Well, more like, the amber of Crowley's eyes captivated him. He knew Crowley wasn't particularly fond of his eyes, but angel always liked them. It was almost ineffable, the reason why he liked demon's eyes.

"It is not about the preferances, angel. It is about the atmosphere you feel when you enter the place that is so characterised. I mean, it feels like...well, you. It is cosy, warm and though, I cannot feel love, I believe there is that odd presence."

Crowley said still looking at Aziraphale who now gave the demon a smile so fondful that Crowley felt he was getting melted by holy water, but in a good way.

"Oh, Crowley, that was really...well, which adjective am I allowed to use so I don't insult you?"

"Whatever you wish."

Crowley said, smiling in a pure way no demon could smile. Aziraphale was almost taken aback. Crowley basically implied there is no way he could insult him at the way things are now. It felt special in a way.

"Well then, Crowley, you are one lovley turtledove."

And Crowley's reaction was priceless. His face heated up, turning into red chilli as he choked on his wine. His amber eyes widened and irises covered half of his eyeballs, like they do when he is stressed. For a moment, Aziraphale felt the rush of panic and was already ready to apologise, perhaps even perform heimlich maneuver if needed. But Crowley calmed down and looked at the angel with raised eyebrow.

"Turtledove? Where the Heaven do you find these expressions?"

"Books, my dear."

Aziraphale spoken with slightly smug smile spreading over his angelic face. Crowley noticed that and rolled his eyes at his best friend.

"Anyway, I am still better at dancing."

The demon murmured, finally finishing the bottle of wine, trying to get that last drop fall into the wine glass. Aziraphale let out a sound that resembled a giggle and earned a good-natured glare from Crowley. However, Crowley was surprised when he recognised the hint of mischievious challenging in angel's bluish eyes.

"Oh, really? And how can you be so sure? You've never seen me dancing. Neither have I seen you."

Angel spoke watching as Crowley suddenly got up but had to immediately sit down because all got too dizzy for a few moments. Eventually, the demon managed to stand on his feet as he approached Aziraphale. The angel felt his heart beat uncontrollably raising as the demon lowered himself at the eye-level, grabbing a side of armchair, right behind Aziraphale's left shoulder as he leaned in closer.

"Is that a challenge, angel?"

Crowley spoke, smirking as he purposley tried to make Aziraphale feel certain discomfort. It was always fun when he got nervous. Quite a little show. It was probably one of the cruelest things Crowley was able to do to his angel. Well, he wasn't his angel. No. He can't go that way. He cannot start referring to him as his.

"If you say so. Show me what you've got."

Aziraphale smirked finishing his own bottle. Crowley laughed, letting out a very human-like sound that Aziraphale loved to hear. Crowley's lean form sauntered toward the old, ancient gramophone.

"Alright, you asked for it. Prepare for the most outrageous, demonic movements ever."

He said and suddenly, a completely different music started to play. It was louder, the beat was stronger and the sound itself was an opposite side of coin from the previous one. Bebop played.

Of course, Crowley knew the song. It was commonly played at those Hell gatherings, because he was mostly the DJ with good taste. The rest of the demons never really got anything against Haddaway's What Is Love?, but Crowley was now dancing for Aziraphale. Angels were certainly different cases. Crowley found himself hoping Aziraphale likes the song.

Naturally, when one is drunk and a demon, dancing is certainly not the most spectacular scene to witness. Crowley started moving his hips like a snake he is, trying to look cool, we may suppose. His movements were not calm, but fast and expressive. Aziraphale couldn't help but chuckle as Crowley turned around and staggered. Yes, this wasn't something you would call good dancing at all.

"I bet Freddie Mercury would have been ashamed to see you dancing to that like this."

"Oh, you think you can do better, angel? Go on, stage is all yours."

Crowley gestured dramatically, making his fiery bangs fall over his forehead. He was a mess, angel could tell. But oddly very attractive mess.

Angel did not make a move at all, so Crowley approached him and pulled him up. Crowley caught Aziraphale's hand and led him to that small space that wasn't covered with pile of books for some reason. If any of them was sober, they would have probably pulled away their hands, or wouldn't even found themselves in hand-holding situation. But now...This was only a very pleasant feeling. Both of them let themselves enjoy it. It was natural.

Snapping his fingers, Crowley managed to make gramophone play something more suitable for Aziraphale. Angel almost instantly blushed when he heard all too familiar rythym of gavotte dance. Crowley was obviously amused by this, the smirk of a snake appeared on his face.

"Angels don't dance."

Aziraphale almost whispered, his lips slowly curving into a smile. But Crowley was always stubborn.

"But my angel does."

And then his eyes widened, the yellow flame of snake eyes burnt. Crowley realised a second too late what he just said, how he referred to Aziraphale. Demon's heart beat grew faster, like it was preparing for heartattack as he gaped at Aziraphale whose expression was encrypted. The angel was highly aware how Crowley called him. Yet, as much as he thought it should be a negative feeling, it was not. He could only feel quite extraordinary amount of fondness, endearing love and alcohol clouding his better judgement.

"Fortunately, better than my demon."

If Crowley thought he would feel better if Aziraphale didn't mind being called his, he was wrong. The situation only made him feel as if he was to explode. No. No. No. It can't be. Demons cannot feel...that. Demons are soul-less. No. This must be alcohol, human poison. And this is how Crowley shrug away the thought. After all, angel was enough of a bastard to try to corner Crowley with a witty remark. However, one thing was sure, this angel will be dancing no matter what.

"Not likely."

"Greater challenge for me would be to teach you gavotte."

Aziraphale beamed, almost too hopeful he will make Crowley dance gavotte. At that sight, Crowley laughed like there was no tomorrow, and Aziraphale joined him. However, Crowley was not prepared on being pulled forward as Aziraphale started dancing. Crowley grimaced as he stepped on angel's feet since he could not follow the movements.

"Angel, stop this!"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, Crowley! Relax! Now, watch my steps and follow me."

Aziraphale gently hit Crowley in between his shoulder blades, making the demon have a straighter posture. His hands found themselves on Crowley's stiff shoulders which almost instantly relaxed under angel's soft touch. Crowley was unable to do something, to protest or smile or anything. He just watched Aziraphale, almost mesmerised by the determination and fondness that clearly reflected in his blue eyes.

Aziraphale looked up, meeting Crowley's puzzled gaze, and smiled. Crowley returned the smile as the hint of amusement returned to his yellowish eyes. Aziraphale started dancing at the slower pace. He tried not making it too complicated for Crowley. Surprisingly, Crowley followed him really well, rarely tangling their feet.

"See? You're pretty go-Oh!"

Aziraphale did not manage to finish his sentence as their legs suddnely ravelled together and balance was lost instantly because of their dizzy heads. They found themselves on Aziraphale's soft carpet, with angel on top of Crowley. The moment was awkward, embarassing and pleasant. As the dizziness slowly faded, they realised how close they were to each other. Their legs trapped, Aziraphale's hands on Crowley's chest, while one of Crowley's arm ended up around angel's waist. Still, all of this was nothing compared to the fact their noses literally touched as they stared into each other's eyes.

There was no point in denying they both felt the heavy beat of their hearts, the heat that came with red cheeks and eyes completely drowned in each other's souls. And that was the moment when both of them realised that Crowley has a soul, that Aziraphale is not angelic enough to not love a demon and that neither gavotte nor disco were dances for them.

"Perhaps we should sober up before I do something extremely reckless, stupid and inappropriate."

Crowley was the first to break the silence, music has long since stopped playing.

"Yes, it seems I'm in the same situation."

Aziraphale nodded and blinked a few times, letting the alcohol disappear from his body. Crowley has done the same. Still, none of them moved. Aziraphale felt as he was the one supposed to move, but there was Crowley's arm still wrapped around his waist. And, frankly, he did not feel like moving away from the demon, not even after sobering up.

"It didn't help, did it?"

Crowley chuckled, feeling the same as Aziraphale. Angel blushed slightly, but nodded nevertheless. He would never lie to Crowley, at least not at this point after all they went through together.

"Not at all."

Angel whispered, slightly moving his fingers on Crowley's chest, as if he wanted to reassure himself that this moment was real.

"Maybe we should stay like this."

Crowley suggested, never breaking the eye contact.

"Perhaps."

Aziraphale shrugged. Crowley continued.

"Dancing doesn't seem like our thing."

"Maybe we still haven't found the right dance for us."

"Well, we have time. Eternity, a human could say."

Crowley said, but Aziraphale shook his head slightly.

"You don't know that. Time is-"

"Ineffable?"

Crowley smirked, waiting for angel's reaction.

"You can put it that way."

Aziraphale smiled fondly and leaned slightly closer to Crowley.

"Then, perhaps you wish to start searching for our perfect dance?"

Crowley asked as the tone of his voice got more serious, but it was gentle as unburnt feather.

"Yes, Crowley."

Aziraphale nodded. Crowley's heart skipped a beat.

"Not too fast?"

The demon almost whispered, his voice like wind, nowhere close to harsh, raging fire.

"Whatever suits you."

Aziraphale said. Crowley slowly lifted them up, making angel sit in his lap. Aziraphale's hands moved naturally, gently cupping demon's face, fingers tracing his sharp jawline and flaming hair until his arms finally entwined behind Crowley's neck. Crowley pulled Aziraphale closer, hugging his waist. He slowly tilted his head and raised one of his eyebrows.

"What do you say about waltz, angel?"

Crowley asked. Aziraphale smiled at him. The music started playing and notes of emotion so ineffable filled entire bookshop.