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Aziraphale's first sign that things were not quite as they seemed should have been Muriel calling him on the phone. Last time Muriel had reported back to Heaven, they hadn't even known what a phone was.
Lucky for them, Aziraphale was too focused on the angel's words to pay attention to such minor inconsistencies. Or anything but his missing book, really. He tried to stifle a groan. It was his own fault for leaving the bookshop into the care of an ethereal being with no concept of earthly possessions.
"Pardon?" he asked, trying to keep his voice carefully neutral and failing spectacularly.
But it seemed Muriel was oblivious to the panic tinging his words.
"Oh, yes," they said, and their smile was clear even through a telephone line and an entirely different plane of existence. "I even got 2 pieces of paper for it. Big, orange ones!"
£20! Muriel had gotten £20 for one of his rarest misprinted Bibles! Aziraphale felt like he couldn't breathe. Which was usually true, what with him being up in Heaven and way too far away from the Earth atmosphere. But it was also especially true now, when he came to terms with the fact that someone had bought one of his books.
"The human assured me it was a fair trade," Muriel was babbling in his ear, practically bubbling with excitement and pride and he couldn't even bear to scold them. "Daylight robbery, they called it. Which they also assured me was a good thing. They were wearing a clerical collar so I am certain they would not lie to me!"
Interested in his Bibles... Clerical collar... Aziraphale was starting to have an inkling as to whom Muriel was referring to.
"My dear," he started, tender words trying to mask what was left of the anxiety in his voice. He could still have a chance. "Are they, perhaps, still there? The human that bought the bible?"
"Yes! They are looking around, trying to see if they can find anything else they might be interested in!"
It was the voice of a shop owner who had finally managed to get people interested in their wares. It also made dread pool at the bottom of Aziraphale's stomach.
"That's perfect, Muriel. Please keep them in the shop and I will be right down to discuss their options."
Of course, their options would be leaving the shop with either all of their limbs still attached to their body or his Bible, but he didn't think it wise to mention that to Muriel. They seemed so proud of their budding success as a bookshop owner.
It took him more than an hour to make it to the bookshop. A few minutes spent trying to avoid the Metatron and then a whole hour answering his questions, once Aziraphale was caught sneaking out of his office. By the time he made it to Earth, the bookshop was expectedly empty.
He still let himself soak it in, for a moment. The smell of his bookshop, his books, even the dust on the shelves. He had missed it. He had missed a lot of things.
Deeming that line of thinking unhelpful, he decided to take stock of the damage instead. Which proved to be harder than he had initially imagined, as it appeared some of his books had decided to move from the places he had chosen for them centuries ago. Of course, he reminded himself, he had no right to be angry. He had told Muriel this was their bookshop now. The bookshop had heard him. It was neither of their faults that Aziraphale hadn't meant it one bit.
The bell above the door rang, happy to announce another customer. Aziraphale turned to stare at it, less than happy about the turn of events. And felt his mouth fall open. Because it wasn't a customer that was disrupting his peace... But Crowley, the one creature he had hoped he would at least catch a glimpse of, coming to Earth. Well, him and the book thief, he supposed.
The demon stared at him, one hand gripping the doorknob, the other reaching up to tug at his glasses. He looked different than Aziraphale was used to seeing him, now that his friend was the Grand Duke of Hell. Once a month, during their department meetings, hissing and growling at each other, no bite, not really. But enough theatre to make everyone believe that they would tackle each other, had they no official business to discuss.
The scales were gone, their iridescent shine replaced by smooth skin. Crowley's hair still flaming, but only in the metaphorical sense now. The snake on his face, the only serpentine part of him. He looked human or as human as he had ever looked and he still made Aziraphale's heart stutter in his chest.
And then Crowley was barreling towards him, a freight train with one destination, behind him. Despite himself, Aziraphale flinched, body too divorced from his conscious mind to interpret a demon heading his way in any other way than hostile. A moment and no more, before he could remind himself that this was Crowley. His best friend, the most darling of creatures. Crowley who would never hurt him, no matter how they had left things the last time they had been here.
As if reading his mind and anxious to prove him right, Crowley stopped just short of crashing into him. For a moment they were so close, chest fluttering together with each unneeded breath, before the demon was wrapping his arms around his shoulders and dragging him into his embrace. And Aziraphale came, still unused to having a body to stop him. Unable to resist the temptation that was the demon's warm embrace, even if he could. His own hands snaked around the demon's waist, pressing him even closer.
"I missed you," one of them said. Aziraphale couldn't quite tell who it was. Or, rather, who had said it first, because someone else was saying it shortly after.
For a minute, that was all they were able to say, wrapped around each other, repeating these three words back and forth. A placeholder for something else, something forbidden. Three entirely different but painfully similar words.
It was Crowley who drew back first. Didn't unravel from the angel, not completely, his hands sliding from Aziraphale's shoulders to press instead against his chest. He was smiling, something soft and precious in the way he looked at the angel still holding onto him tightly. An expression that Aziraphale hadn't thought he would be allowed to marvel at quite so soon.
Aziraphale wanted to kiss him, the desire to do so neither sudden nor surprising. It had been lurking in the shadows of his heart for so long, centuries, millennia even that Aziraphale was almost used to the faint ache of its presence.
"What are you doing here?" he asked instead, choosing to hide behind the safety of the surprise he had first felt upon seeing the demon in his bookshop. Anything else too dangerous to even consider.
The smile on Crowley's face grew sharper, the tip of a fang peeking over tempting lips. Still, so incredibly beautiful.
"Kidnapping you," Crowley answered simply, like one might say "Watching a play at the theatre" or "Enjoying a nice cuppa at a cosy cafe". As if a regular occurrence and not a cause for concern. And then he shrugged, furthering the difference between his words and his nonchalant behaviour.
Aziraphale cocked his head to the side, wondering if perhaps he had heard wrong. No apprehension followed Crowley's words, which he took as further evidence he must have misunderstood somehow.
"Excuse me?"
"Did all the heavenly choirs deafen you, angel?" Crowley was wrapping a hand around his wrist and tugging him in the direction of the door and it was a true testament to Aziraphale's bewilderment that he didn't even notice. "I said I'm kidnapping you, so I can do all those vile, nasty things I have always wanted to do to you."
Aziraphale gasped. "You can't kidnap me, I'm the Supreme Archangel. There will be consequences," he tried to argue. Didn't try to break free from the hold Crowley had on him, a fact that escaped neither of their notices.
Could Crowley kidnap him? Surely the Grand Duke of Hell, the current ruler of that infernal place, kidnapping the Supreme Archangel could lead to a conflict, if not even an outright war. And that was before one was to consider the "vile, nasty things" Crowley was planning on doing to him. Even if that last part Aziraphale very much doubted.
"'Course I can. Doing it right now, aren't I? Hush now, hostages don't speak."
Hostages also didn't get the door held open for them and they certainly would never have a hand pressed to their back, gently ushering them out of any building, but Aziraphale wisely chose not to comment.
His friend was a demon, that's what demons did. Who was he to try to challenge that?
Crowley only let go of his hand once Aziraphale was safely tucked into the Bentley. And only for the short time it took him to round the car and take his own seat. And then he was reaching over the gear stick and clasping their hands together. It wasn't particularly safe, but then again, nothing about the way Crowley drove was and... Well, Aziraphale had missed him.
And he couldn't imagine letting go.
"So I don't try to run away?" he teased, even as he shifted his hand so their fingers could slot together. Even as he tightened his own grip around the demon and tugged until both their hands could fall into his lap.
The noise Crowley made was one of assent. In truth, it sounded more like Aziraphale's name, three sentences aborted in the middle, a handful of animal noises and one particularly vile curse word all rolled into one, but the angel decided to be charitable with his description.
The vile, nasty thing that Crowley had decided to torture him with was... a sushi restaurant. A new one that had opened just down the street, that Aziraphale himself had been eyeing for way too long, from the coldness of his Heavenly office.
He eyed it sceptically, even as Crowley jogged the few steps to the door so he could hold it open for him.
"I don't believe this is your best work, my dear," he couldn't help but say. The angels were dense when it came to human rituals but even they would be able to see this for what it truly was. A date. A date between friends, perhaps, but a date nonetheless. One that Aziraphale would enjoy immensely, judging by the smell that tickled his nose the moment they made their way inside.
Crowley waved him off. "Mmm, not so fast, angel. Do you have any idea how many people suffer from food poisoning from incorrectly prepared seafood?"
Aziraphale went still in the doorway, causing the demon to stumble into him. Crowley stayed pressed against his back, perhaps a moment too long, before he was linking their arms together and trying to lead him to their table. Aziraphale stood his ground firmly.
Kidnapping he could excuse, but he drew the line at bad food. He had standards.
"Do they not prepare the food well here, Crowley?" he asked, voice taking on an arctic edge. When his friend had said vile, he hadn't thought he had meant it quite so literally.
Crowley actually looked confused for a second, mouth hanging open, eyes narrowing. He hadn't bothered putting his glasses on yet and he looked vulnerable and unguarded and Aziraphale felt silly for having even doubted him. But before he had managed to take it back, assure the demon that of course he knew his friend would never do that to him, Crowley was scoffing.
"Who do you take me for? 'You have standards'! Don't I know it." The demon actually wiggled as he said that, lips pursing together. There was no venom in his expression though. A playful tease, one of many of its kind. Aziraphale nodded, graciously letting the demon drag him to the back of the restaurant.
The moment they sat down, a waiter was approaching with a bottle of sake and two glasses. Another was quickly following with a selection of their sushi rolls. Aziraphale was starting to suspect all of this was going too smoothly not to have been planned ahead of time.
And then he remembered the reason for his initial visit to Earth. The sold book. A spark of hope flickered in his heart.
He also tried not to think too hard about the fact he had completely forgotten about losing one of his most prized possessions, the moment he had found Crowley in his arms.
"Crowley?"
The demon in question looked up from where he had been pouring him a glass of sake. "Hm?"
"Was- Did you make Muriel lie to me about selling a book to Father Lewis, my dear?" Aziraphale leant forward, unable to conceal the delight in his voice or his smile. Oh, but he wanted to kiss him, the happiness bubbling in his newly formed veins making him restless and bold.
The grin spilling out of Crowley was not helping matters one bit.
"Took you way too long to figure that one out, hm, angel?"
Aziraphale didn't respond. Not in the way the demon expected him to anyway. But he did click his fingers, moving his chair, and coincidentally himself, to Crowley's side. What was the point of being the Supreme Archangel, if you were not allowed frivolous miracles, after all?
Crowley blinked at him, the only sign of his surprise, before he was sliding a hand around his side. Slowly, carefully, as if giving the angel enough time to escape, move away, even twitch a muscle to show his displeasure of Crowley's actions. Everything that Aziraphale was so very careful not to do, lest he lost that warmth enveloping his suddenly freezing corporation. And when Crowley was finally wrapped around him, his body warm and solid against his own, he allowed himself to relax. Sink into the embrace.
"How did you manage to convince them to lie to me?" Aziraphale asked, a feeble attempt at keeping his attention on something that was not the demon, curled all around him.
Crowley hummed lightly, as if considering whether the question was important enough to distract from the angel in his arms. His fingers were dancing a jig against Aziraphale's soft side, barely holding on, nothing more than a reassuring presence and yet so infinitely more tempting than anything around them.
Finally, the demon shook his head, having probably come to the conclusion that any question coming from Aziraphale deserved an answer. He had always been indulgent like that.
"Told them I needed to discuss something with you ahead of our monthly meeting. Away from prying eyes."
Aziraphale hadn't expected that. True, Muriel had been slightly naive when they had first come to Earth, but he doubted they would let themselves be fooled by the demon around him. Not again at least.
Frankly, he felt embarrassed he had fallen for that lie in the first place. Muriel knew what the books meant to him, they would never... Well, in his defence, he had been rather busy having a fit about losing a book he had owned for centuries to question one of the most loyal angels he knew. But then again, Muriel hadn't really betrayed him, had they?
"And they believed that?" he asked, trying to keep the disbelief out of his voice.
Crowley pressed his face into the angel's back but it was of no use. Aziraphale could still feel the way his laughter shook both their bodies. "Not one bit."
Yes. That was more in line with what he had been expecting. The last time he had been to Earth, Muriel had done their best to make him go to Crowley. Hinting, subtly and then not so subtly, that Aziraphale could use some company. And then when he had ignored their attempts, outright telling him where the demon was spending the day and insisting Aziraphale join him.
Aziraphale should have gone to him then. Even if it had been half as nice as the time they were spending together now, it would have been worth it.
There was a sigh, drifting from Aziraphale's lips as he relaxed further into the demon's arms, one that he didn't even bother covering up. Crowley chuckled but wisely did not tease him about it. Luckily too, because Aziraphale doubted he would have been able to give up the heat and warmth and safety of the demon's embrace just to stop his teasing words.
And then Crowley was shifting slightly, dragging the angel closer and letting his chin drop upon a round shoulder. So close Aziraphale could feel his breath tickling his neck, and he shuddered.
"Got to keep a hold of my precious hossstage," Crowley hissed, something dark and sticky in his voice that Aziraphale had heard so many times before but had never been able to place. He could now, though. It wasn't hard to. He could feel the wild thump of Crowley's heart against his back, his scalding breath. He tried to suppress the shiver threatening to overtake him. It was pointless but then again, Crowley was trembling right beside him and so close, it was impossible to tell where Crowley's body ended and where Aziraphale's began. As if they were sharing one vessel, a soul split in two halves.
Aziraphale didn't say anything. He wasn't sure he was able to, wasn't sure if he could open his mouth and have anything else other than love confessions and vows tumble out of his lips. He didn't need to.
"Go on. Let yourself be tempted," Crowley said as he nudged one of the plates towards him. He knew, of course he did. And instead of forcing him to voice feelings more ancient than the universe itself, he was giving him an out. One that Aziraphale was ready to take, if only to ensure both of their safety.
The angel gripped the chopsticks, letting them click together in delight, before he looked at the selection before him. Crowley had arranged for all his favourites to make their appearance and his heart swelled at the thought. That silly, gorgeous, reckless demon. Making an angel lie to him just so he could take him out for sushi. Oh, but he adored him.
He settled back, letting his weight fall against Crowley, who bore it effortlessly.
And like this, with the demon curled around him, his chin resting on his shoulder and his piercing gaze- on his face, Aziraphale raised the first piece of sushi to his mouth.
They were taking a lazy stroll through the park, arm in arm. Crowley had miracled him ice cream, insisting that it was merely a devious attempt on his health, what with it being the middle of February and everything. Aziraphale had not commented on his inability to get sick, instead choosing to enjoy his ice lolly.
It was peaceful and quiet and soft, and Aziraphale hummed around his treat, unused to any of this.
"My dear, about the Second Coming, I wanted to disc-"
Crowley's laughter tore from him, not the cruel sound Aziraphale was used to when he brought up that particular topic. Free and full of mirth, it danced in the spare inches between their bodies.
"No shop talk, angel. Save that for our actual meeting. This is purely a kidnapping business."
And as if to illustrate his point, the demon used their linked arms to tug him closer, tuck him against the edges of himself, where nothing else mattered. Certainly nothing as trivial as the end of the world.
Aziraphale hummed again. Wondered if the demon would find it too forward if he was to rest his head on his shoulder.
He was just offering Crowley a bite of his ice cream, when he felt more than he heard, someone appear behind them. The demon was the first one to react, groaning loudly, head tipping back, throat exposed. Then he was turning to Aziraphale, mouthing an apology the angel didn't understand but was sure he would appreciate in the next few minutes, judging by the smell of evil that had suddenly permeated the air.
The thing they turned to face looked human, if one was to look at them through a funhouse mirror. They had all the markings of a face, if a face consisted of too many eyes and too few other distinguishing features. Aziraphale inched closer to his demon.
"Lord Crowley," the creature buzzed strangely, giving a curt bow with a few too many limbs. "As you previously requested, we have kept an eye on the Supreme Archangel Aziraphale. Our agents in Heaven have confirmed he has gone missing."
Crowley went very still beside the angel, his own demon aura pulsing in the air and making the strange being twitch slightly.
"Asss you can sssee, he hasss been kidnapped," the demon hissed, long forked tongue flicking out to lash at the space in front of his darkening face. The creature took a step back. Finally turned to look at Aziraphale. Their eyes blinked at him, a wave of eyelids closing and opening, eyelashes long and heavy. Resembling more the leather strands of a whip than anything human-like and slashing through the air as one too. They looked like they were smiling, the way someone who was unfamiliar with the concept of having a mouth would smile.
"Of course, your Highness. Do you require any assistance?" they asked, bowing again, even as their eyes never left Aziraphale's face.
The angel didn't even have time to shift closer again, that unnerving stare making him chase the safety of Crowley's embrace. Even though it would show weakness before this ravenous creature. Crowley was already stepping forward, one hand nudging Aziraphale behind him, the other balling into a fist. There were scales climbing up his throat, fiery red in the street lamp. His hair was vaguely smoking.
"Do I look like I need help?" Crowley asked, venom dripping from his words and his too long fangs. He was still holding onto Aziraphale and the angel had almost expected his grip to be tight and punishing, leaving marks that he might stare at when all of this was over.
It wasn't. It was a wisp of air, long fingers curled around Aziraphale's wrist. There only as a reminder of the safety to be found in Crowley's presence and nothing more.
The creature bowed again, before it disappeared in another puff of evil.
"Let'sss go feed the ducksss, angel," Crowley urged immediately, tugging Aziraphale towards the pond. His forked tongue was still flicking out of his mouth as if trying to clear the air of the evil presence of that creature, his hair - no longer smoking now but still vaguely glowing in the dim light. The scales, not as bright but still vibrant on his throat, a moving tattoo of shapes and colours.
Goodness, but how was Aziraphale supposed to control himself, next time the demon decided to hiss at him in the war room and all the angel would be able to think about would be the way it had felt, having Crowley protect him.
The sudden urge that had sunk its claws into him, to drag Crowley into the bookshop and never let him go.
"I hope you had an awful time being reminded of exactly what you are missing up in that sterile prison," Crowley teased, as he turned to face him. They had been parked in front of the bookshop for a few minutes now, sitting in silence, hand in hand.
Aziraphale didn't want to go. He couldn't imagine going back to that 'sterile prison', as Crowley had so eloquently put it. Not after the day they had spent together. Not after being reminded of what he was missing. And he didn't mean the sushi or the park.
"Oh, absolutely dreadful, my dear," he fussed still, voice adopting the same huffy quality to it as when he was offered substandard food. "I would be sure to tell everyone about your evil deeds."
"The raw fish and wasabi that burnt your tongue," Crowley recounted with a smirk. His gaze was flicking over Aziraphale's face, as if trying to drink him in.
The angel nodded. "Forcing me to exercise and overfeed the local wildlife."
"Holding you close so you can't run away." Crowley tugged on their linked hands. Pointedly ignoring the fact it was Aziraphale that was holding onto him tightly, refusing to let him go.
"The worst part of today, I can assure you."
They both giggled. Well, he was sure Crowley would insist the sound coming out of his mouth was a very dark and mysterious chuckle instead, but Aziraphale knew better. Finally, the demon waved a hand towards the Heavenly lift, waiting to steal him away.
"Well, your torture has ended now. You can go back to Heaven, I release you."
Aziraphale tried not to dwell on the fact that going back felt more like a punishment than anything that had happened today.
"So soon?" And yet, he couldn't quite stop it, the disappointment leaving a sour taste in his mouth. He gazed at the bookshop, on the other side of the street. The creature in his chest purred with hope. "Perhaps, you have other vile things you can do to me? In the bookshop, maybe? I don't believe Muriel ever developed a taste for wine so I am fairly certain my stash has been safe in their hands."
Crowley's smile was remorseful as he shook his head. "Afraid not, angel. They'll only tolerate so much and besides I do need to go back too."
Aziraphale nodded. Of course. Both of them had duties and responsibilities. Realms that they needed to rule over. It had taken just a few hours filled with laughter and gentle touches for him to forget. Perhaps, it was the memory of the time they had spent together that gave him the courage to finally go after what he had wanted to do all day. All of his existence, really.
"Surely, there must be something that you might require in exchange for my freedom?" He kept his voice light and coy, just a hint of a tease. Enough, he hoped, for Crowley to understand his meaning.
But when had the demon done what was expected of him? Crowley shook his head, just as bewildered and horrified at the idea of asking for something to let Aziraphale go free as he had been at the implication that he would feed the angel subpar food.
Aziraphale recalled another such incident, in this car, no less. "There must be something else I can do for you, in return." A hopeful smile. Crowley ignoring it all. His dense, oblivious demon. Aziraphale wasn't letting that stop him anymore.
He leant forward, bridging the chasm between them that had stayed intact for millennia. The one that he had pushed and teased at, but never outright ignored like this. The simple slide of lips against Crowley's cheek was not a kiss, not in the traditional sense. It wasn't what Aziraphale had gotten into the habit of imagining when the blandness of Heaven got a bit too much for him. Still, so incredibly warm and bright.
Crowley gasped, pressed into the touch, before going unnaturally still.
"A kiss, as your ransom," Aziraphale explained, as he drew back. A butterfly of worry fluttered its anxiety wings when Crowley refused to look at him. Had he overstepped perhaps? Had he taken more than the demon had meant to offer?
Their last kiss flickered before his eyes and he tried not to wince.
Crowley turned towards him then, body tipping into the angel's warmth. He was smiling, something soft curled around the usual serrated edges.
"Only one?" the demon asked, hands leaving their angelic prison to curl around Aziraphale's shoulders instead. Careful. They had always had to be so careful.
Now was no different.
"Perhaps next time you will be able to negotiate a better deal for yourself," Aziraphale teased, letting himself lean closer, until their bodies were almost touching. It was a tiny car, there was barely any space. Of course they would touch.
And he could pinpoint the exact moment Crowley registered his words, the wide-eyed look of wonder at the promise in them.
Next time.
"Perhaps. There are still so many nasty things I want to do to you." Crowley's voice was soft, betraying none of the cruelty in his words. Aziraphale still felt himself shiver.
"Next Saturday? Cirque du Soleil is in town?" There was no use hiding the anticipation tingling in his veins, he was sure Crowley could see it in the way his cheeks were flushing at just the idea of spending another day with the demon. The wiggle overtaking his body, the way he couldn't quite control his smile.
Crowley hummed, as if he was considering it. As if he hadn't decided on an answer the moment he had mirrored Aziraphale's smile.
"All these contorting bodies. Half-naked and glistening in the light... Why, angel, I believe you will have a horrible time."
Aziraphale shuddered. Part of it was entirely for show, a reaction to plans any proper angel would find torturous. But also, because of the hand that had slid from his shoulder and was now rubbing teasing circles all over the length of his arm. He shifted slightly, revealed more of himself. A sacrifice at the altar of the demon's touch.
"Shall we say 7, my dear? I believe I shall have some errands to run back on Earth which might leave me... vulnerable, if one was set on kidnapping me." His voice wavered just slightly at the mere implications of what he was saying.
Crowley sounded no better as he replied, "Make that 5, angel. There is a new Indian place I want to torment you with. Nothing worse for a celestial being than so many spices and flavours."
"Oh, I dare not even imagine!"
His voice was just as huffy as before, but there was an urgency to it. He didn't want to leave. He couldn't leave. Not when he had Crowley here, so close he could touch him, could share in his breath and air and warmth.
How was he supposed to go back now?
Just as the thought had crossed his mind, the hand was drawing back, one last squeeze of his shoulder before it was gone. And Crowley was smiling at him, hadn't stopped smiling at him, and he was so beautiful, a being made of light and love and happiness. So much more than the ones Aziraphale spent his days around.
Perhaps one more kiss wouldn't hurt. It was the advisable strategy, wasn't it? Keeping your kidnappers happy?
Besides, Aziraphale didn't think he would be able to leave, without a taste of these lips that had tempted him this whole day. Without having felt the demon pressed against him, Aziraphale's fingers curled around scarlet hair, dragging him closer, impossibly closer. Without the memory of them, together, tucked deep inside his ribcage to keep him warm when the coldness of Heaven became too biting.
Something must have shown on his face, or maybe it was simply Crowley's uncanny ability to always know what he wanted. The demon was leaning forward, eyes fluttering shut.
This kiss was a promise.