Chapter Text
Summer may have been coming to an end but an unexpected heat wave settled into the air like a thick smog. Making trecks through the London streets torture rather than its usual pleasent stroll. Humidity was something no one in London was used to, making their clothes stick to their skin in many unpleasant ways. (Luckily air conditioning was one of the few modern advancements Aziraphale appreciated the most, having invested years earlier to keep himself and his book shop cool year round.)
Adjusting himself in the mirror had been a bad decision. It would have been much easier to head right for the door before his nerves swelled his throat shut.
Shockingly white hair was a mess of untamable curls, his favorite tartan bow tie slightly askew no matter how he tried to fix it, while a finally pressed white dress shirt and dark brown vest showed their age. Ditching his normal coat just in case the summer heat was sweltering. The last thing he wanted was to ruin his favorite coat in a drunken rage.
Plump fingers adjusted the tie for the tenth time, a firm frown curling the older man's lips. After changing outfits a total of five times, no matter what shirt or tie, it was becoming clear he would always look like someone's grandpa.
The collar pressed into his neck just enough to show his double chin, while the vest didn't do much to help hide his plump belly from far too many sweet pastries.
At least his nails looked dashing.
Despite how many times Aziraphale had to remind himself of Madam Tracy's empowering pep talk, it was another to actually act upon that courage.
Trusting her judgment was starting to feel like a mistake.
~~~
"I-I'm not sure what you're implying."
"Go out and get stuffed, dear."
Choking suddenly on his own breath and dropping his current novel, the blonde gawked at her in surprise. Cheeks growing hot when she started to giggle with a glowing smile.
"I'm sorry dear, but it's starting to become a bit obvious that you're a wee bit pent up.”
"Madam, this is an inappropriate conversation during tea time."
“I mean no harm Mister F, but, You said so yourself you were lonely.”
"I'm… I-I'm not..I'm not as young as I used to be."
"So? Darling, neither of us are spring chickens. Talk about being old when you're my age."
Aziraphale inhaled sharply. This was a conversation that bounced around his brain hundreds of times at this point. Any previous relationships that lasted longer than a few weeks were always nice at first, until they got a bit too demanding too fast that it made his head spin.
Relationships take time, and he appreciated being able to become comfortable at his own pace. However that often blew up in his face, many didn't want to wait for the ‘appropriate’ amount of time it took for him to become comfortable enough to come out of his shell.
Though sex was something he came to enjoy, he could certainly live with out it if need be.
Fooling around, experimentation and late nights of lust filled passion was a young man's game. Aziraphale had no place trying to fit into a world moving far to quickly for him. Besides, his back didn't agree with that kind of thing anyway. At least that's what he told himself.
He did miss soft kisses and the hand holding though, dining at fancy restaurants or going for a picnic in the park. Call him a sap.
Maybe, secretly (or at least he hoped it was secret) a good roll in the sheets never hurt anyone either.
But it was far easier to bury his nose in a romance novel and daydream than be a blubbering mess in person than to ask if he wanted a smack on the rear every so often. Coming from a younger man would have been bewitching, coming from someone his age felt wrong.
"I appreciate your attempts. But I'm simply aged out of that sort of thing. Everyone our age is already happily married or no longer looking."
A fine eyebrow raised and he babbled to quickly shut her up knowing that look far too well. He definitely didn't need reminding of her and Mr. Shadwells odd relationship.
"Absolutely not."
The redhead took a sip of her tea, humming in agreement. "I think it's worth a shot, you never know. You might enjoy yourself!
Finger already twisting nervously, her voice softened to put the suddenly nervous man at ease "It would be good for you Mr. F, getting dressed up and having a night on the town is sure to boost your confidence."
~~~
Back to the present, Aziraphale pushed any doubts from his racing thoughts. The whole point was to enjoy himself. Break free from his anxious shell he unfortunately dwelled within.
Aziraphale felt his palms sweat just like they had on prom night and even worse than the first night he kissed another boy.
How many years has it been since he even tried? At least ten since he, to put it politely- lied with another man.
Maybe the older he got the more embarrassing it became to express just what he wanted in another man. Aziraphale never had a definitive type per say, often finding himself more attracted to a personality than looks. With that barrier it then was often hard to dictate who exactly had alternative motives and who was simply being friendly. Unfortunately being a tad naive ultimately assumed everyone was just being friendly. Who would try to flirt with him anywho?
All those years ago it was just easier to enjoy himself when he had the energy for such a thing, to have a bit of fun in his younger days but now…
Like most things with age, he started to sag. Once bright energetic eyes became tired and droopy. Aziraphale certainly wasn't in the nicest shape even if he had always been a bit chubby. His cheeks were too round and while his hair was so obnoxiously bright it was like wearing a beacon atop his head.
Anyone who claims the older you become the less you care, had never been in his shoes. In Airaphale's case it was far from the truth. Anxiety didn't just miraculously dissipate, over the years he learned how to cope with his nervous ticks. But you can only repress something for so long before someone or something hits a sore spot.
Not only did he battle his own physical anxiety, emotional ones were just as harmful. He long forgave his strict christian upbringing for his crippling emotional issues. Anything he found joy in would soon be thrown back into his face like it was some kind of unthinkable sin. Like everything he came to enjoy was wrong.
Like now for instance.
This wasn't about what others thought of him, scowling to himself before his own brain could open up that can of worms.
“This is for you.” he scolded again. Tugging nervously at the ring around his pinky.
“You like tartan, well aged wine, strawberry crepes, gold jewelry.” the list helped boost his crumbling confidence, just enough to keep him from tearing away the worn vest in favor of something maybe two sizes too big.
Steeling himself properly, Azirphale clicked heels and forced a happy smile in the mirror, this was no time for self reflection on just how stupid this whole thing was. Being stubborn as a mule had its perks.
Aziraphale’s fingers made it as far to the door knob before he physically couldn't bear to pull the door open. He swore under his breath for being such a baby.
He may not be an advocate for drunken adventures, but liquid courage was something he believed in wholeheartedly.
Aziraphale poured himself a full glass of wine and downed it to help ease his already shuttering nerves. No one said he couldn't get a head start, especially when simply stepping out into the hallway was becoming a problem. The warm, comforting fog made the tension simply unwind his too tight muscles. Soon his fingers couldn't stop him from twisting the door knob and locking it behind him.
‘Fun,’ Madam Tracey said. ‘You will have fun.’
He could do this, or at least have a good time trying.
Peeking open the door, the faint buzz of music from outside brought another wave of anxiety. This was ridiculous, he was a grown man for heaven's sake. How many times had he actually walked the streets at night? Countless. Yet this was different, this was with an intention not to sleep alone tonight.
The streets of London were alive, the sun may have gone down but it's people seemed to come from the wood work as bright neon signs, music and smoke filled the crisp night air. Groups cheered, others sang drunken slurs of their merriment.
Once the anxious thoughts started to numb from that glorious glass of wine, it was almost nostalgic seeing the flashing colors and the faint smell of stale cigarettes with enough pornographic window merchandise to make a nun blush. The night life had never been his style, but it just made his insides fuzzy remembering the fun times he had back in the day.
Late nights of passion and experimentation still made his toes curl.
Adjusting his bow tie nervously while dancing around the dozens of people scattered about the nearest bar, he sucked in a much needed breath, and stepped forward.
No turning back, relax. Enjoy yourself Aziraphale.
~~~~~~~~
Not even a few hours in, his head was already starting to spin from just a few drinks. The night became a blur of colors, forgettable faces and heart stopping bass music.
But it working, feeling lighter than air, the plump man gave a stranger a kiss on the cheek for another round of brightly colored drinks. Call it what you will, it was a huge step in his case.
Aziraphale enjoyed his wine every once in a while, but goodness it was not nearly this strong. It was worth noting all the brightly colored, fruity ones packed the most punch.
The blissful buzz had his body becoming pliant, acting on instinct and want rather than having his thoughts cloud his actions. It was fun, at least, until it wasn't.
Unfortunately, the longer the night wore on, the harder it became to keep his normal smile friendly. Anyone that had approached him was either not his type, (He considered himself a good judge of character, and something was definitely off about those people.) asking if he was lost or far too young to even consider. A fellow who seemed to be in his late 40’s was very pleasant, but he apparently didn't know what toothpaste was and had to turn down that clear invitation.
A young woman even had the nerve to ask if he was a sugar daddy. That alone had him nearly toppling over his own feet to get as far away from that bar as fast as his drunken brain could handle.
After three bars, it was beginning to look bleak.
Sighing to himself Aziraphale scrubbed a hand over his face, as if that would help clear his thoughts. Already writing off tonight as a failure. Going home was always an option, Even if he did get a few free drinks, it was not worth the embarrassment of being nearly the oldest man in a club filled with young men and women. Grinding against one another while he sat alone toying with his drink.
Dancing was out of the question, no way in heaven or hell would he make a fool of himself on the dance floor. At least not until he was level five drunk and even that only happened once. (Any evidence of that night mysteriously combusted.)
His partying days had passed nearly two and a half decades ago, consuming this much alcohol would lead to a nasty hangover and sticky sheets, neither sounded so bad after you put aside the loneliness.
Aziraphale stumbled only a few times dodging the crowded streets, too bad his favorite bakery wasn't open 24/7 open. A fresh croissant or a strawberry danish sounded absolutely divine right now.
Using the building's walls to keep his center of gravity worked until he had to cross the street. A soft voice told him it would be fine if he turned tail into the comforts of this apartment and just eased the tension himself. Maybe even become adventurous and stay the night in the book shop instead so it would feel far more foreign.
Ugh, how pathetic.
It was a complete mistake coming out here.
Aziraphale looked offended at the curb that caught his shoe, as if it had jumped out to purposefully trip him. Mumbling under his breath the man used a nearby cars tinted windows to adjust himself accordingly, fussing with his hair and loosening his tie to make himself feel less claustrophobic. The sad frown, flushed cheeks and messy shirt staring right back.
God, he looked so sad.
A 50 year old man trying to get lucky in the middle of London.
Jesus Christ what was he thinking?
Madam Tracey would get a real talking too once he could combine coherent thoughts again.
Aziraphael plastered his palms to the glass, already wanting to throw himself into a hot bath and just forget this ever happened. It wouldn't be hard with another bottle of wine. Waking up in the morning with no recollection of the previous night could just ease any lingering pity he felt for himself.
Luckily, with a drunken mind, his train of thought got side tracked by the mist fogging up the window. A dopey smile brightened his glassy eyes at the sudden childish urge to draw a face on the glass, and did just that. Going as far to draw a phallic image made another ridiculous drunken giggle bubble in his throat.
Then, to his surprise and soon to be horror, the window moved.
He gawked as the once dark tinted glass and silly drawing disappeared to reveal a man. With one high eyebrow sat in the driver's seat, smoke began to escape into the fresh air from a cigarette between his teeth.
“Oi, hands off the car, it's just been through the bloody wash.”
No matter how hard Aziraphale tried to get his eyes to focus in the dim street lights and smoke pouring from the window, the silhouette stayed hazy. The only damn thing he could focus on was the red, curly hairs peeking out from the strangers v-neck.
Airaphale’s thoughts seemed to suddenly drag him back to reality when the man was suddenly getting out of his car, to stand right before him. Cigarette between his lips and way too close, so close, shooing him away from the supportive automobile beneath his wandering palms.
“Sorry, forgive me, j-just admiring.” his own words felt slow even on his own tongue despite the ridiculous panic lacing his tone. After righting himself and using his hands to press down his collar, the blonde felt embarrassment rush to his face, feeling like a child that got caught with a hand in the cookie jar.
“Oh of course, please do. From afar if you don't mind. I don't need giant cocks on the window. Contrary to popular belief, it's not good for my image.”
It took four slow, calculating blinks for his foggy brain to realize those tantalizing curls were indeed attached to a person now standing between him and the shiny, old car like a protective parent.
A man, only a bit taller than himself with bright auburn hair that fell in lovely waves against his face and shoulders. The wrinkles near his lips placed him relatively his own age, none of these baby faced party seekers. Lips merely turned down in a permanent resting frown while he huffed his cigarette. Dressed head to toe in dark clothes, and oddly enough sunglasses.
In the middle of the night?
Squinting suspiciously at the mysterious, but very attractive stranger. The blonde twisted his fingers, to keep the undeniable urge to reach out and braid the others hair.
"M’a lil, tipsy.“ Ah yes, there was the random drunken outbursts.
If he wasn't having trouble staying still he may have noticed the amused curl of the lanky man's lips while he tapped his cigarette.
“You don't say?” matter of factly shifting a foot to look at a random passerby. “Any fun plans for tonight?” Shaking his head slightly, the shorter of the two bit his lip to prevent a smile.
“Fancy a drink then? My treat, though by the look of it you've had a bit too much already.” Aziraphale may have missed the light smile moments ago, but he certainly didn't miss the way the redhead's head moved up and down, as if sizing him up.
A pout would be the only way to describe the chubby man's current face with slightly pursed lips and a heavy brow.
“I have not! Simply-” his voice cracked and he cleared his throat to rid the gross feeling “One away from too many...”
A sharp brow arched out from behind dark lenses, watching the slight sway in the blonde's body.
“And do tell, do you normally go around fondling other men's cars when you're sober?"
Cheeks warming further, the alcohol definitely helped loosen him up from earlier. By now he would have excused himself and then regret the impulsive decision later. Call him crazy, desperate, needy, whatever. This stranger's tone went from annoyed to charming in the matter of minutes and it was already making his insides fuzzy.
“Not...Normally.”
“We may get along just fine then.”
Inhaling one final time, the redhead flicked his cigarette to the street, stuffing it out with his foot.
“Shall we? Mr.-?”
The strange, attractive stranger offered his arm and Aziraphale’s belly did all sorts of wonderful, terrifying things.
He gladly took it, eager to have anything to keep from making more of a further fool himself, in front of his new friend “A-aziraphale, just Aziraphale, please. I know it’s a bit odd”
“Quiet a mouth fool to say the least. Crowley, pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”
The moment he took Crowley's arm, he was led to a part of town he didn't fully recognize. Though if it wasn't for the supportive arm, the blonde was sure he would have fallen flat on his ass at this point and without a doubt just made a fool of himself more so than he already had. Crowley was warm, intelligent from what he could tell just from his words. A bit dreary in a sense of style but he seemed...Normal.
Getting his hopes up would only lead to further disappointment, but he wasn't ready to let his heart sink thinking perhaps this was just an act of kindness.
Another bar, a bit of a walk on the outer skirt of his home where the ever growing party started to trickle off. Squinting, trying to read the sign through the dull glow of neon. Heaven.
Aziraphale was brought back to reality once again, choking softly when the skinny male's hand found the small of his back, ushering him forward past the glass doors and an open stool at the bar.
“Great place, this one. Always a lot quieter for when I just want to drink away the day, you know?”
He coulda swore he was promised a drink but a glass of water was placed before him that clinked against Crowley's ringed fingers. It oddly made his heart flutter.
If that was a mere flutter, this had his poor muscle doing somersaults. Two bright red drinks slid in front of them, garnished with plump cherries. Apparently it was called a tropical orgasm, why he would never understand. All he needed to remember was to order it some other time. It was delicious.
After a final, too fruity drink he was far, far too drunk to be dealing with all those flashing lights from the previous bars but also too drunk to focus on the quiet conversations rather than this handsome stranger.
Crowley.
Crowley, who was one of the oddest yet most endearing fellows he ever had the pleasure of speaking with, was quick with his tongue. In a few words, dramatic. A joke or tease never too far away even as they spoke about nonsense. Crowley didn't seem like he had a proper care in the world. From the way he lounged himself across the bar top to the mess of waves atop his head.
“You don't seem like the type to be running around Soho.” Crowley took a sip of his own drink. Words a bit too matter of fact for the plump man's taste
The blonde closed his eyes briefly to clear his head before trying to use his tongue.
“No‘m afraid not. A dear friend suggested I get out a bit more and well, had a bit…too much to drink.” Did he always sound so slow? It was a miracle that managed to be a coherent sentence with how thick his tongue felt.
That got another alluring smirk to twist on Crowley's thin lips, hidden behind his glass “Never very fun without a friend you know."
He puffed up a little, “Indeed.” Aziraphale went for the plump cherry submerged in his polished wine glass. “I was just about to head home and dread a nasty hangover before we ran into one another.”
“Wasn't it you drawing smiley faces and dicks on my car?"
Aziraphales lips curled to a silly, drunken smile, twirling his glass a bit dangerously in his drunken haze “And I am properly chuffed about it. I’ve had more fun in the last hour than I have had all night."
Clinking glasses, both men sipped their respective drinks.
“Lucky me.”
Though he could feel his cheeks growing warmer at the implication, his body didn't feel the need to flee. Then again, the blonde wasn't sure he could move very fast without losing his stomach in the process. It was such an odd sensation, to feel comfortable for once. Anxiety was boiling deep in his chest and preventing him from trying to at least step out of his comfort zone. Thank the lord for alcohol.
Keeping himself upright was becoming a struggle with such pleasant conversions. A nice change from the previous places he had visited. Aziraphale tucked his head on his elbow against the bartop. Crowley from this angle was rather lovely, though he had yet to find a bad one. Thin nose, sharp jaw and those cursed red chest hairs teasing him again from his slouched position. Aziraphale could have swore he saw some kind of tattoo beneath those curls.
Though their conversation diverted to random things, Aziraphale recounted how terrible his night started off. The multiple bars he came to visit or any particular unpleasant person that had approached him. When words were not waterfalling past his lips, he struggled not to simply stare. Occasionally losing himself in thought, eyes drifting down to the thin, soft lips recounting something about dolphins.
The next time he caught up with the conversation they were discussing the last time they had a roll in the sheets. (lord, how long had he been staring??)
“Been...Ah..A little over a decade I would say.”
Crowley hummed, not seeming put off by the statement. Normally people acted as if sex was just as equivalent to the very air they breathe. Some couldn't go a day without it, others felt no need for such a thing.“No boyfriend, girlfriend? Lover? Not even some lonely phone sex to get you off?”
Burying his face into his elbow, Aziraphale groaned in embarrassment. Hearing it come from someone else's mouth made it so much worse, not to mention depressing. Something about the conversation was easy, as if they were discussing the ridiculous weather.
A shaky no was all he could manage. Words muffled from his elbow “Good lord. You can't say it like that, it's not like I haven't wanted to just be ravished to hell and back.”
The silence seemed much heavier all of a sudden, but a drunk Aziraphale was always more oblivious than normal. When no reply came, he failed to notice Crowley's surprised expression. He unfortunately didn't have time to dwell as his brain just let the words flow.
“I'm too picky.” The drunken man slurred, trying to imitate a woman's comments mere hours ago. “You can't go to a dreary bar expecting perfection.” finally letting his head fall to his crossed arms again with a soft thud. “W-well I have standards. Unlike her who was just draped across a boy half her age. She was so rude.” he complained.
Crowley listened to his new friend's lament and decided perhaps catching him when he had been a good thing.
“Hate to say it, but she's right.”
The blonde’s head shot up and gawked in horror, you would have expected Crowley struck him across the face.
“Y-You can't side with her! She was rude to me!”
Shrugging, the red head dramatically flipped his hair over his shoulder, twisting around to face his new friend rather than drape across the bar. “No one goes to a sleazy bar looking for a relationship."
“But I wasn't!”
“Then what exactly are you looking for, Aziraphale?”
The firm command of his name from those thin lips was enough to pause his drunken rant and stare long and hard at the ice melting in his glass.
What did he want?
Pleasure? Obviously. A relationship? It was hard to say. Though it did sound heavenly to wake up beside someone you cared so deeply for every morning. But this entire night wasn't about finding love in the wrong places. It was about finally letting down his defenses long enough to enjoy himself again. To have a bit of fun.
He wanted to feel good, something only another body could give. Whether it was from seeking fingers or the tangle of legs, to soft reassuring kisses. His own hands were nothing compared to those nights so many years ago. Sex was never something he felt the need to seek out. Sure it was nice, but it wasn't just the physical intimacy that came with it. Azirphale enjoyed the mental intimacy just as much.
Spending late nights in discrete gentlemen clubs were the only times he truly felt free from the world. To finally submit to another human being and allow them to have their way. Back then, in such a closed off intimate setting, there wasn't going to be any judgment from his fellow club goers because they were there for the same reason. To hide from the world, even if it was for a short period of time.
It had to be some kind of sick, twisted desire from when he was a child. He wanted to be ordered about, reprimanded, something he would never appreciate outside of the dom and sub game. Someone who had complete authority over his mind and body made his legs quake. It was nice to not fret over every small detail every once in a while. Of course he came across enough kinky things that made his ears hot, but nothing compared to fully letting himself enjoy a subspace. Never having to worry about what would happen in the morning when a caring dominant would take the time to make sure he was alright.
Now it felt like a disgusting taboo to wish for such a thing. Over the years the words domination and submission changed, by default becoming some kind of pain play. Now he was never sure who would spit in his face and call him a freak for letting himself be vulnerable. He was a man who appreciated consent, boundaries. But that's exactly how his last relationship (if you call it one) had come to an end. For overstepping when he was clearly unwilling for such a jump in trust.
And then there was his physical anxiety of not being good enough to do such a thing anymore.
After a long, intense inner battle the chubby man pulled back to sit upright and grasped at the curls starting to stick to his forehead from the sweat accumulating on his brow. Brain buzzing like a hive of bees with self loathing thoughts. Was it not written across his forehead at this point? Did he not appear as desperate as he felt?
Desperation, laced with years of pent up frustration reared its ugly head. How could he not allow himself the basic forms of pleasure? Letting others get into his mind and taint his own feelings? For nearly a decade, Aziraphale repressed his own needs in favor of fear. Pain laced Aziraphale’s next words, choking quietly “I want to feel good enough about myself to be fucked again.”
Silence, nothing but the faint buzz of a nearby speaker playing soft music.
Oh.
Oh god.
He may be drunk enough to be spilling his desires to a stranger but his own hand betrayed him, not moving fast enough to catch the damn words from being spat across the bar counter. But for the first time in his entire life his body didn't recoil in horror and try to carry him back to the book shop and hide until he was sure no one would remember him. Heavy with the alcohol that effectively drowned his worries and held his ass firmly on the bar stool.
His own thick fingers found his traitorous lips in disbelief “..I-...I..cannot believe I just said that out loud.” stumbling over his words. More surprised he actually managed to say such things out loud when he could hardly admit to himself he looked dashing in a beige suit.
The red head, who had been relatively silent, only forced the blonde’s heart into his throat with that intense stare alone. What in bloody hell was he doing. The only person who was spending time with him, with obvious interest, was sure to book a plane ticket by now. No one wants to hear him complain about being lonely and desperate with a whole bunch of self loathing thrown in.
“Oh- I a-apologize th-hat was so inn-” long fingers found the tense muscles of his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles. His body immediately reacted, nearly melting under the simple touch while his brain short circuited.
“Come now angel, I'm having a blast.”
Aziraphale choked again, grasping desperately at the bar top.
“I don't think you realize just how far you can get just by asking for something, though.“
“I think you're ravishing enough.” that cocky smirk turned wolfish. Leaning closer, careful to keep enough space between them that it felt wrong not to scoot closer. The air between them became hot, Aziraphale caught himself swallowing the lump forming in his throat. While the world around them seemed to slow. "Believe my first thought when I saw you priming yourself in my window, was to see how long it would take to make you cum sitting on my face darling.”
“O-oh dear lord…” he moaned pathetically but there was definitely a stirring in his belly that had him shifting uncomfortably.
That sounded so obscene but delicious at the same time.
He grasped blindly for the hand soothing away his worries, anything to ground him to the present and not lose himself in his rushing train of thought.
“But ‘m heavy...” he whined pathetically, being the only few words he could speak. Finding himself starting to drape toward Crowley's comforting rubbing. The alcohol making it hard to keep his hands from shaking at the gentle touches alone.
“I think I get to be the judge of that one.”
Another rush of hot desire sang through his veins, Crowley was far from a knight in shining armor but it was becoming clear this was more than some kind of dirty promise between two strangers in a dimly lit bar. The redhead knew exactly what he was doing, despite it being careful, caution even. It was Dominating. Something he had not experienced in ages and already felt himself ready to submit to anything the beautiful man before him even suggested.
Old habits die hard, Aziraphale immediately tilted his head to show more skin. Anything to keep Crowley's hands on him and snatch the warmth he could before his foggy brain realized what was happening
The palm glided from his shoulder up to his cheek. Feather light touches stroked across his lips, down his throat, giving a playful pull against his bow tie that had fallen loose throughout the night. Crowley cooed soft things like they were the only two important things in the universe. It was exhilarating to feel wanted, needed, appreciated. And he was letting it happen, being taken apart by nimble fingers.
Aziraphale wanted to cry, both far too overwhelmed but not nearly enough at the same time. Giving the redhead control was becoming such a wonderful idea, especially when the wandering hand dropped, thumbing his thigh.
“Are you sure you're ok?” quiet, and right beside his ear, the shorter man shivered, hard. Nodding his head furiously and yelping when it made his head throb.
“Right as rain! Lovely thing, alcohol.” blurting out to loud and too fast to be anything but a lie.
The redhead hummed in agreement, “Lift home then?”
As much as he didn't want to seem desperate to keep Crowley within touching distance, his drunken brain did anything but. Nodding too eagerly his head made him moan suddenly, grasping his temples as the world spun dangerously. “Please.”
The warmth of ringed fingers left his thigh but not without giving a soft squeeze. Downing the rest of his brightly colored drink, Crolwey tossed some bills on the counter before turning his undivided attention to the drunken man he had been entertaining the last few hours.
As if he hadn't been the center of attention since their hilarious encounter.
Aziraphale may have underestimated how much easier it was to sit drunk rather than to get his legs to function. Once again the taller man aided him by wrapping an arm around his waist and back out into the crisp air.
It was heavenly on his flushed skin, Aziraphale’s head felt far too heavy to keep supported and found himself drooping into the no longer strangers hold, whose soft ‘oof’ only made his knees turn to jelly. He had to give credit, Crowley was much stronger than he looked.
“You smell, lovely.” slurring softly. Spicy cologne and the faint smell of smoke. Heavenly.
A chuckle jostled him, and found himself burying himself further, "Knew that cologone was a good choice. Who woulda known I would catch an angel in disguise, hmm?”
Never, in his entire existence would he have had the courage to try and act on any of his desires if it wasn't for the fact he was drunk off his ass. It was hard enough to try and walk and talk at the same time. Anxiety was a hell of a deterrent in the blonde’s life but this felt so easy. All he wanted to do was rest his head against Crowley's chest, and let him do everything he promised.
He was gently herded into the far too nice car from earlier, actually ripping a whine from his throat when arms left him to shut the door, ”Easy, can't have you in my lap. Car's far too small for that.”
Fingers gave his clinging arms a squeeze. Alone for a few seconds before he was greeted again by the musky cologne from the drivers side. “So, where too angel?”
~~~
It took a few tries to recall which roads led where. But they made it to the condo with relative ease. Just as Aziraphale was starting to doze in the soft leather seats, Crowley once again appeared beside him to help the tipsy man to the stairs.
Laughing suddenly, the blonde released his tight grip on Crowley's jacket trying to figure out where exactly he shoved his keys “Who invented keysss.”
It was Crowley's turn to laugh at the ridiculous outburst and taking pity on the other man after watching him struggle with the key and lock. Taking them and only missing once before twisting it open to let its residents inside.
“Aziraphale?!
Said man jumped at the sudden voice and whined as it rang through the walls like a bell, quickly trying to hide himself in a mess of red chest hair. “Sh-shh not so loud dear...”
Madam Tracy peeked out her door hearing the commotion so early in the morning, having just finished her late night massage sessions with a client, only to be greeted by a strange man wrapped around her neighbor.
The woman lived just across the hall, one of the sweetest and kind hearted souls Aziraphale had the pleasure of knowing. Often inviting him over for tea or a chat about the weather. Motherly in every aspect despite her interesting lines of work.
Let's just say it was a very, very embarrassing misunderstanding when they first met one another.
Oh dear. She didn't actually think her stuffy neighbor would actually go out and bag himself a date. Let alone be shit faced and tiredly mumbling into said strangers' coats.
“Sorry Mr. F. Heard, some commotion and you're usually so quiet. Just wanted to make sure you were alright.”
“T-tickety boo! Had A bit too…..alcohol.” The blonde slurred happily.
Her eyes jumped to Crowley, who stood quietly, not too sure how to proceed. He was a grown ass man, and had the right to do what he pleased, but could understand her concern. He forced a crooked smile that looked far more like a grimace. “Alright, Just holler if you need anything. I am only a few doors away.”
Something that went underappreciated in Soho was the unspoken rule to help one another. Especially when it came to situations he would make more sense of later. A stranger, grasping onto your drunken friend with obvious intent could mean a number of things. You never let a lone woman with a man she didn't trust or allow your drunk friends to get into cars with strangers.
Then again he had done nearly all of those. The point was you check with the party to make sure no one is in danger or there would be hell to pay for trying to take advantage of someone who was only trying to have a bit of fun.
But Crowley never, ever forced himself upon him even in his drunken stupor, If he recalled correctly Aziraphale started spewing his desires first. Though he did seem rather cross when they first bumped into one another it delved into a flirtatious night of conversation. There was an obvious want on the red heads end, but they weren't teenagers. Sometimes you didn't just jump head first and wait for repercussions later. Sometimes the burn before the hot and heavy left you aching for more. And deep down the blonde appreciated that, perhaps that's why one night stands became such a terrifying thought.
He absolutely would have done anything to please Crowley. No matter the task. Nothing made him feel so wanted in years.
Once inside Crowley set the keys on a nearby table, fingers never venturing too far from Aziraphale's waist.
“Tickety boo?”
“Tickety boo!” he repeated in a sing-song voice, toeing off his shoes hazardously, nearly tripping over the ‘welcome’ rug.
Crowley's glasses had been perched atop his head and was suddenly very close. The tickle of warm breath against his cheeks as the taller of the two backed then against the nearby plush couch.
“O-oh.”
“What? Suddenly overcome with lust for me?” a teasing smirk curled those lips again.
“Your eyes are uh-” he swallowed thickly, needing once more to try to put his own words together “I’ve never seen that color before.”
Bright shock of amber was not at all what he was expecting, especially not in the bright moonlight peeking through the curtains.
“Right right, super rare something like that- now then-”
Crowley backed them far enough to force Aziraphale to lie back, then making a display at spreading the man's legs to drag himself closer.
A sharp inhale, the blonde bit his knuckles trying not to think of just how warm Crowley was, how nice he felt between his legs and against his stirring nethers.
“Will, you...Stayandmaybe...?”
“Yesss?” Crowley drawled, peppering kisses across the flushed skin across the man's neck.
Fiddling with the edge of his bow tie, at a loss for words the blonde gasped for something to say.
“You have to ask for things you want, angel.”
Angel was something he would have to ask upon later, but now it just made his heart beat faster against his chest.
“W-warm my bed?” he squeaked. The noise alone made him wince. God forsaken headache.
Without those dark glasses, he could watch those bright amber eyes soften from their previous mischief, fingers thumbing his sides in a far more comforting manner than their devious intent moments ago. Warm amber met hazy blue, finding it significantly harder to stare back when his vision seemed to fog over “As marvelous as that sounds, you’re a bit too gone angel. Perhaps a rain check. When you can hold onto something properly”
Groaning softly, the plump man closed his eyes again in hopes of quieting his own desperate mind to reach out and drag Crowley closer. How can someone so dark be such a gentleman towards him? He absolutely didn't deserve it, not now, not ever. Anxiety finally reared its ugly head though the buzz of the alcohol. It made his already hard to handle emotions spark out of control and tears well into his eyes. Drunken emotions were the worst, especially when it involves fat tears falling down his cheeks
“Oh bugger.”
Manicured hands did what he wanted, pawing at the jacket to try and pull the lanky man closer and change his mind.
The tugging, finally, finally brought the man close enough for their lips to touch. Warmth bursting inside his chest, forcing his heart to beat loudly in his ears. Toes curling as goose pimples prickled his skin. It was chaste, a promise for something more next time they meet. Just as soon as the warmth started it was gone, wide baby blue eyes stared into hazy amber, struggling to catch his breath with the wind seemingly knocked from his lungs.
“Nhg-”
Lips crashed against his own once again and this time his hands flew to the incredibly soft hair. Keeping him close as a breathless moan escaped him when Crowley nipped at his bottom lip.
"You taste as ravenous as you look." Careful hands brushed away the stupid tears sliding down reddened cheeks, pressing another soft kiss to the corner of his chapped lips.
He wasn't sure if it was sad that even when entirely malleable in another man's comforting grip, and alcohol fogging his normal judgment he still couldn't have a roll in the sheets.
Then again maybe he found something far more interesting than a simple one night stand that wasn't really his style in the first place. Maybe that's why Crowley is so endearing. He understood that, could sense his discomfort and how out of place he was in the party central with too many layers trying to find ‘love’ in a place filled with desire and lust.
“I should rile you up and leave you here by your lonesome.”
Aziraphale whined pathetically, squirming under the body above him. No please.
“No, I couldn't do that to you. I won’t fuck you but I'll get you off, would you like that angel?”
A furious nod and nimble fingers immediately began to dip lower. Giving him no time to think about how big his tummy looked when hands finally dipped low enough to palm his crotch.
His belly felt as if it was on fire, nauseous and flipping at the same time. Crowley’s insistent rubbing, squeezing and sucking was enough to have him writhing beneath those painted fingers. Aziraphale did just as he was told, sit back and enjoy. Crowley took complete control of him, suckling against his pulse and whispering dirty things to the shell of his ear. The shorter man knew he wasn't exactly big in the nether region, it would fit in anyone's first neatly but thank god that didn't seem to deter Crowley.
“I want to be the one to ravish you Aziraphale.” twisting his fist suddenly, using his free hand to drag lightly drag his nails against soft pale skin.
Unable to make any kind of coherent thought, the man simply tried to buck against the slim fingers in his trousers.
With how quickly it began, things came to an end with a sudden gasp. Cumming hard into the redhead’s fist who, with the best intentions, tried his best to catch would he could. Stars danced across his vision while he struggled to regulate his breathing. Stamina was never something he was particularly proud of, but it was hard to control himself when his brain was fogged with alcohol and a beautiful man milked his cock dry.
A hand brought him back to the present “Stay with me Aziraphale, do you want to go to bed?”
Warm and enjoying the high of his orgasm, his body felt heavy, yet lighter than a feather at the same time. “I-I don't think, for all the money in the world, I can get up.” the shorter of the two mumbled softly.
A soft snort put Aziraphale at ease, finally comfortable in the familiar plush couch as nimble fingers helped him out of his tie and vest till he was down to just his dress shirt and trousers. going as far to help clean up the unpleasant mess and tuck him back up.
He felt himself beginning to drift until Crowley returned with a small glass of water and a quilt from a nearby closet.
“Thank you, Crowley.”
“Oh shut up.”
~~~
Sunlight did nothing to wake the snoring lump. But when his brain finally caught up with the rest of his body, a pained moan escaped the pile of blankets.
Good god he was far too old to be drinking like that.
Beginning to stir was an awful decision, but it was obvious already things weren't looking up. It seemed he didn't quite get lucky last night. No pain in his rump. No messy sheets or body beneath him. Alone, cold and disappointed on his living room couch of all places.
A bath sounded so heavenly if he could keep the nausea from overtaking him. A forgotten glass of water was a blessing as his parched throat gulped it down along with a close by bottle of migraine meds. He certainly didn't recall leaving these out but thanked whatever prompted him to do so.
Changing his old clothes for something fresh and comfortable was next on his list. Aziraphale had plans with Madam Tracy, meeting every few days for tea was always a pleasant highlight. The very least he could do was tell her he was just going to sleep the next day or so. And hope to keep anything bubbling in his gut down.
Their condo being as small as it was, he could hear soft voices coming from Madam Tracy’s apartment in the dead silence of his own. No matter the case it only felt right to at least to reschedule. By no means was he going to try and blow her off for being a drunk bastard.
Pulling on a pair of fuzzy socks, Aziraphale caught sight of something in his vanity mirror that was definitely not there yesterday. Something that pulled him right back to his reflection and doing a triple take on the pale, purple and red mark against his throat.
A hickie???
Holy shit.
Crowley.
Crowley, god what an amazing man in every possible way. Treating him like a goddamn angel on earth. His voice alone broke goose pimples across his skin from the overwhelming waves of pleasure he was gifted last night. Though it was heartbreaking to not find another body beside him that morning, it hurt more to find no phone number, no note. Nothing out of the ordinary that showed the man would be in touch or even make an effort in returning.
Azirphale had told himself not to get attached to anyone he met along the night for this reason in particular, the sheer disappointment that he knew would come in the morning. It was nothing more than a fling to help relax and come to terms that he could enjoy his previous activities without the need for alcohol.
Yet the first thing he did was get far too attached to the man. Fabulous.
By the time his brain began to feel less like jelly it was just past noon, knocking on her door and twiddling his fingers until he heard the door being opened.
“Mr. F! Good afternoon dear, did you sleep well?”
A polite smile already curled his lips, “Afraid not the best, I came by to let you know I'm not feeling well, and have to have a rain check on our tea time.”
“Oh that's alright dear, but at least let your little friend know about your time in, he’s been waiting an awful long time.”
What?
“My friend?”
“Ah yes! He came by your apartment this morning but you must have had a rough night and didn't budge. I invited him over for some tea.” Stepping aside to allow him inside, hot cocoa and cinnamon hitting his nose.
Wait. She couldn't possibly mean-
His breath caught in his throat as the entire night seemed to come back and hit him like a semi truck. A shock of red hair, pulled back into a lazy bun, dark glasses and an ever present frown that quickly turned right side up seeing his companions state. Balancing dangerously on two chair legs.
“Hey Aziraphale!”
Aziraphale wasn't proud of how his entire body seemed to flush, but despite the dreaded headache his body twitched desperately at the sound of his name.
“Crowley-?” he croaked in shock.
An annoyed sigh heaved the taller man’s chest, returning himself back to all four legs.
“Tried to bring you breakfast this morning and no answer, at least your lovely neighbor here had enough humanity to invite me over for some tea. Terrible house guest you are.”
Completely frozen in place, the man could only look helplessly back and forth between a wicked grin and a knowing polite smile. The odd twinkle in Madam Tracy's eyes had him screaming internally, what in the hell did Crowley tell her? What on god's earth did she know??
“She mentioned how much you disliked coffee, so we made you some hot cocoa instead.”
All he did was gape like a fish, at a complete loss for words. Moments ago he already convinced himself he would never actually see Crowley again, and definitely not nearly this soon. He squeaked "She did..?"
“Go on now! Don't let me hold you both up. Mr. Shawell is on his way home and he will just have a fuss with you both here. Go on then, mind how you go.” shooing them both out, never in his entire relationship with her did he get kicked out. Let alone shooed away like some kind of stray dog. This was a bloody plan. That scheming witch and by the look on Crowley's face he had something to do with this ridiculousness too.
“So,” the other drawled motioning to Aziraphale apartment when the shorter of the two only stared in shock, wiggling a small paper bag, and a steaming mug that smelled far to heavenly to ignore “Breakfast?”
Good lord.
This was going to be an interesting morning.