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You and Crowley had known each other for quite a long time now.
You were passionate about books, so finding Aziraphale's bookshop in Soho was a dream-like experience to you.
And there he was... Mr. Fell's weird friend: tall, slim, always in black, dark red hair and eyes... well, you had never seen his eyes, not yet, since he was always covering them.
"Why do you always wear sunglasses? There's no sun in here!" you asked him once.
"It's due to an eye-condition," he said. Lie. "Light, even dim light... it is hurtful to me."
You didn’t question his words.
Over time, you found yourself coming to visit Aziraphale's shop more often, more and more. You grew closer to them, both Aziraphale and Crowley, since there were no regular customers but you, spending hours in that place, simply reading a book. Azi loved seeing you around, debating on your most recent read and sharing opinions; even the demon enjoyed your presence, maybe a little bit too much, but he would have never admitted it.
Crowley usually came to you, brutally interrupting whatever you were doing just to either complain about whatever came to his mind or annoy you.
"Weather is awful today, extremely hot. I love it."
"That book is boring, they all die at the end."
"If you keep drinking that much coffee you'll get a heart attack and I won't carry you to the hospital when that happens."
You were now sitting on an armchair, leg crossed, reading, as always... but you couldn't concentrate, something in the air felt different: Aziraphale had greeted you a bit too eagerly, his smile a bit too wide, his politeness of offering you a mug of tea a bit too insistent...
I mean, he was always nice to you, there shouldn’t be anything strange about his kindness, but you knew him well enough to notice if he was acting weird. You also knew him well enough to tell if he was hiding something. Acting was not his thing.
However, you chose to keep that impression to yourself, not making a word out of it.
Soon after the doorbell rang and someone entered the shop.
"Good morning y'all. How is it going?" the demon said, not expecting an answer.
"Morning," you said, eyes still glued to the same page you had been unsuccessfully trying to go through for the past half an hour.
"Oh, thank God!" You could hear Azi saying as Crowley headed towards him.
From that moment, all you could catch were the two figures talking, eventually glancing over you, but immediately looking away. You couldn't hear what they were saying since they were too distant and you didn’t want to stare at them, making it obvious you were trying lip reading their parley.
At first it looked like Aziraphale was scoffing his friend for being late, almost like he had been waiting for him; then the angel became even more passionate as he started suggesting something, something Crowley apparently didn't approve, given the way he started to shake his head, waving his friend away with his hand.
"No, now you go there and do it!" was the only audible thing you heard escaping Azi's lips before Crowley snapped on his foot and then, slowly, moved towards you, his hands in the pockets of his jacket, a failed attempt of nonchalance.
"Hey, you, bookworm." He sat on a nearby chair.
You raised your head to look at him.
"So, how are you doing?"
Him caring about someone to the point of asking that? Unreal.
"I'm good, you?"
"Good, great even."
Silence.
"So... there’s a nice place I know... great wine, beautiful atmosphere... they're having a jazz concert there tonight."
Pause.
"Thought you might like it."
You were not sure if you actually caught the meaning of his words.
"Oh, yeah, seems wonderful."
"I could take you there, if you want."
There it was. You knew it. A date. He was asking you on a date. You could feel Aziraphale's eyes piercing through your head as he followed the whole scene from behind his desk.
"I- I would like that."
You were bloody hell sure you were blushing in that exact moment and you hated it. Crowley seemed to have no reaction at all.
"Okay, good, I'm going to pick you up at seven p.m., and don't be late. I hate latecomers."
Being late was most likely something he had invented.
And with that, he got up and headed to the front door.
You were just done getting ready when you suddenly heard the noise of wheels stopping down your place. You looked down from your window only to find a familiar Bentley badly parked down the road. Crowley stepped out of the car, leaned on its door, and checked his watch. You smiled at the sight. He was more elegant than his usual look: he was wearing a dark gray suit, leather shoes and a red tie. And, of course, glasses. He even had a pretty hat in one of his hands. How fancy of him. You appreciated his effort to look good, mentally projecting the vision of him asking Aziraphale for advice on his outfit.
You quickly put perfume on and grabbed your bag before getting out of your house. You could tell his face literally lit up when he saw you. You were wearing a long brown dress, not-so-high heels and some gold jewelry, hair down.
"You're six minutes late."
"It's nice to meet you too, Crowley."
He held the car door open for you.
The ride to the pub was almost silent. You were too tense to say a word and you thought he was too, seeing the way his hands tightened around the handle from time to time. It's not like you two had never been out together, but usually Aziraphale was there too, you were not alone. Plus, the angel did talk a lot, so there never were embarrassing moments of silence.
The pub was beautiful, just as he described it to you: neat, dim light, nice décor and, from the smell, good drinks.
Crowley led you to a table with high chairs. You were sitting in front of him. He quickly ordered something for you both to a waiter, and, as he turned to his side, you observed once more that snake tattoo he had on his lower cheek. It had always been fascinating to you.
"Does it have any meaning?" you asked.
"What?"
"Your tattoo, does it have any meaning?"
"This?" He reached that spot on his face with his hand. "No. Meaningless. Just one of those mistakes you make when you're too young to think you'll regret them one day." Lie, again.
"Oh..." You couldn't hide a slight disappointment at his explanation.
The waiter came back soon after with two glasses of wine.
"It's good wine, the best they have in here" said Crowley.
You two started sipping the wine, as a strong flavour filled your mouth.
"You look good, by the way." You almost choked on your drink. You didn’t see that coming.
"Thank you," you said, trying to sound unbothered. "You look fine, too."
You got distracted by the sound of a saxophone playing, followed by the pleasing sound of some other instruments.
The little jazz concert, you had almost forgotten about it.
Silence fell again as you started enjoying the music, your head resting on your fist.
"Would you like to dance?"
"Sorry?"
"I said, would you like to dance?"
You raised an eyebrow. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"Oh, c'mon, why not?"
"I'm not a good dancer."
"Then I'll lead you."
You wanted to rebut but before you were given the chance he pulled you by the hand and threw you in the middle of the hall along with him. Thank God you weren't the only couple standing there. You hesitantly placed your hands on his shoulders while he gently gripped your hips, slowly swinging, following the melody.
You would have lied if you said the sudden proximity of him had no effect on you. You had always found him a mysterious, charming man, good looking to say the least, and there he was, asking you on dates, complimenting your outfit, dancing with you...
"Have I already told you you're particularly gorgeous tonight?" Your line of thoughts was cut short by his voice. You felt a wave of blood flushing through your cheeks.
"Thanks," was all you managed to say, carefully avoiding making eye contact with him.
Christ. You could feel him smirking upon you. It pissed you off.
The song ended and Crowley reluctantly let go of his hold on your waist as the two of you made your way back to the table, his hand resting on your back as you reached your seats.
"Do you want something more to drink?" he asked you.
"Umh..." You thought about it. "I fear I'm too much of a lightweight for that."
"Can't hold your liquor? Maybe something not too heavy?" You agreed on that, as he asked your order to a waiter passing by.
And in that exact moment, you became self-aware of how much your feet were hurting. You silently cursed yourself for choosing to wear those damn heels. Yet they had never hurt you before. You were sure someone up there was really testing you right now. Crowley saw a grimace paint your face, but chose to ignore it.
The waiter came back with your second order: another glass of wine, different, lighter than the previous one, you could tell, for you, and a shot of whisky for him. You spent time enjoying your drinks, chatting about this and that meanwhile.
But when you were done, it was clear something was troubling you.
"Is everything okay?" he asked, a worried look on his face.
"Yes, yes, I'm just..." You looked down at your feet and he immediately caught what you were implying.
He tried his best at suppressing a pure laugh which was fighting to escape his throat. "You could have said that earlier."
You were so goddamn embarrassed now. The feeling of being tipsy only making it worse.
"I wanna go out."
"Let me carry you."
What? Was he out of his brain?
"No, don't worry."
"Stop playing strong, you're hurting!"
"It's not that big of a deal." Really, it was not that deep. Yes, your feet were hurting, but you could still walk normally.
"Let me help you at least," he said, offering you his shoulder to hold you up.
You accepted him as you started glancing over the counter: you hadn't paid for your drinks yet.
Crowley noticed. "Don't worry, I've already taken care of that. It's on me."
Jeez. This guy. Too good of a man till now. Way too good. You started to wonder if there wasn't anything corrupted about him you had not found out yet, waiting for you just behind the corner.
You quickly brushed these thoughts away.
No, you were just overthinking.
You got into the Bentley, engine started rumbling as the car moved.
"Could you drop me at my place?" you said, giving him your address.
"Where? Mh... I would love to, dear, but I don't think it's possible."
You frowned. "Why is that?" you asked, perplexed.
"There's only one way to reach your place: we should take the M25, but, unfortunately, it has been blocked."
"What? Are you serious?" You couldn't believe it. Not now.
He turned to face you. "I'm dead serious. You can check it if you want."
You grabbed your phone and looked up for that news. Damn it. It was true. The part of the M25 leading to your destination closed an hour earlier due to a road failure.
What the hell? But how did he know?
"Oh God... Are you sure there's no other way to reach my place? I'm sure there is."
"I'm extremely sorry, but I'm sure there's not. I know London like I know myself."
"...I've never liked the M25."
Crowley smirked at your statement.
You sighed. This was going to be a long night.
"You can stay at my place, if you want."
Now it was your time to turn to face him.
"Mhm?"
"You can stay at my place for tonight, if you don't know where to go, till they fix the road. It's already late now."
You considered his suggestion for some time. Wasn’t that a little too... intimate?
"I don't wanna be a burden to you."
"A burden?!" He burst out. "No, of course! I'd like to help you out."
"Are you sure I can come?"
"Of course I am. You can sleep on the bed, I'll take the couch."
"...Thanks. Really."
How did you even manage to get yourself stuck in such situations?
The rest of the ride was silent.
Once you arrived at his place, the car stopped. He got out, and reached the other side to open the door for you, still offering you his shoulder to support.
His place was dark, almost minimalistic, if it wasn't for a sort of throne in front of an enormous desk and an uncountable amount of beautiful plants basically everywhere.
"You're welcome, act like it's your own house. But... don't touch the plants, okay? They easily get sick," he said, taking off his coat.
"You really are protective over your plants." You remembered him talking about them one time or two, with you and Aziraphale, back in the bookshop.
He stopped, and turned to you: "They're my babies."
You laughed at that, he just acted like it was nothing, secretly offended by your reaction.
"Do you want something?" Crowley asked you, pouring himself some sort of liquor you didn't recognize.
"No, but thank you," you said, taking off your own coat.
You went to sit on the couch. You were tense, you really didn’t know how to act, this situation was so weird.
You looked at him. He was beautiful. Did he keep his sunglasses on even in his own house? Was his eye-condition that bad? You were worried, thinking how hard it was for him to have it, it made you sad.
He came to sit next to you, so close your legs almost brushed.
"I really enjoyed going out with you. Thank you... for everything." You broke the silence.
He raised his eyebrows. "Well you don’t have to thank me, I wanted to do that, and I enjoyed that too."
"I'm just sorry I'm being such a trouble-mak—"
He interrupted you by placing a hand on your thigh, leaning closer. "Nonsense. If you were any trouble I wouldn't have even asked you to come here. I'm not that kind, you should know that." From the tone of his voice and the way he acted you could tell he was a little drunken.
You wanted to say something but you were soon silenced by the feeling of his lips on yours. Your eyes widened in surprise. You weren't displeased by his initiative, the opposite, actually, you just weren't expecting that.
You returned his kiss as he gripped your sides, gesturing you to get on him. As you did, the kiss became even more desperate.
God, how many nights had he dreamt of this? He had started to grow feelings for you since the first time he saw you crossing the entrance of Aziraphale's bookshop; he felt a pull toward you, something he had never experienced for a human in over six thousand years.
His deep thoughts stopped the moment he felt you becoming still, no longer kissing him, no longer holding him. He fully opened his half-closed eyes, only to find you there: your eyes wide open in shock as you looked at him straight in the eyes with a terrified expression on your face.
And then he realized...
"Fuck..." Crowley muttered. He was no longer wearing his sunglasses, he must have lost them when he let himself go, too drunk of both alcohol and you to mind about that not so small detail.
You felt paralyzed, unable to move away even if that was the only thing you wanted to do. Those eyes... pure gold dilated eyes with a thin straight vertical line as the pupil... they were not human.
"There's no eye-condition as such." You whispered under your breath.
"I-I can explain" Crowley began to say, raising his hand from your hips and holding them in the air, trying to signal he was no danger to you.
He had always thought about the moment he would have to tell you the truth, he knew damn well he couldn't hide it forever, especially not if he was being serious with you... but he also wanted to protect you, and he didn’t want his real self to ruin everything once again.
But, as it always is, a lie to protect is way more destructive than a hurtful truth.
"Who are you?" you said, finding strength only enough to pull away from him and get on your feet.
He got up too.
"My name is Crowley, Anthony J. Crowley. That's true."
"Why are your eyes like that?"
His breath was heavy, like he was carefully choosing each word. "Now, please, stay calm and listen. Do you trust me?"
You shook your head.
Ouch, he should have guessed that.
"You're right, I know, I can't expect you to believe me now, I can't pretend you trust—"
"Who are you?!" you said, raising your voice, slowly beginning to step back.
"My name is Anthony J. Crowley. And I know you feel it, I am not human, you're right. I'm a demon, fallen angel, World's first tempter, snake in the garden of Eden. That's why my eyes are like this. My 'tattoo'... that's my mark; I'm here, sent from hell to watch over the Earth, but, I swear to God, I am not here to hurt you, I've never meant to. Please... don't look at me like that..."
You had listened to his explanation while continuing to step back, till you reached the wall behind you. You were in disbelief.
"Nonsense. You're lying. Demons don't exist. Hell doesn't exist. I want the truth."
A feeling in your gut told you he was actually saying the truth, you just preferred to object. It was easier than accept what he had just said.
"I am being sincere." Crowley started stepping towards you.
"Stay back!" you yelled, grabbing the first thing you could reach, which happened to be a candlestick, in your defense.
A candlestick? Crowley thought. Did you really believe a candlestick could be of any help against a demon?
"I know you're in shock right now, and you can't even imagine how much it hurts me to see you like this, but you are safe with me, I am not going to hurt you or anything, I promise."
"You want to kill me, you want my soul."
"What?! Hell no!" Did you really think that about him?
"What do you want from me then?!"
Crowley immediately broke eye contact. "You know, I... For the first time in over six thousand years of being here, I've never felt as human as I did when I was around you. And I started to want more and more and... and I became selfish, I couldn't help it: I just wanted you around and I didn't care about the risks of me being around you."
"You said you are a fallen angel, why did you fall? What did you do?"
"I... I questioned God's Plan... They didn’t like it much." That was a hurtful memory for him to recall.
"I might have been the snake to tempt Eve with the apple, I have done awful things throughout the years, I had to, and I am not proud of them... but having feelings for you may be the only good thing I'll ever do in my whole eternal life."
With that, you broke down crying, resting on the floor.
All he wanted to do was run to you, hold you in his arms, comfort you, and go back to how the two of you were before this quite literally living hell started, but he knew better than doing that. He knew he would only scare you, so he only got to his knees, trying somehow to be closer to your current position this way.
You were sobbing, panic filled your heart.
"Please, don't cry," he said. Ridiculous, but he understood he had no other way of comforting you right now.
"But you kissed me..." you said with a broken voice. If your body had given you the chance to explain yourself better, you would have said that you couldn't process how someone you were ready to be so intimate with, because yes, you also had feelings for him, could turn out to be someone so bad, someone you never knew.
"I'm sorry..." he whispered with a faint voice.
"No, no... I am just drunk, I've drank too much and now I am having visions, it's okay."
He now wore a pitiful face. "You're not drunk, you know that. This is true, I am a dem—"
"You're a monster!" you screamed, getting up, your eyes finally locking up again with his snake-like ones.
Monster.
That word hit him like a train. Accused of being all he ever tried not to be. By the only human he truly cared for. The only human he dared to expose himself with.
"You're not real! All of this is not real! Gone! I will be gone! You will be gone! It will all go back to normal, I'm just drunk. This is a nightmare..."
You kept on screaming as you ran towards the door, not caring about grabbing your coat nor your bag in your rush.
Crowley could have followed you, he could have chased after you, he could have blocked you. It would have only taken the smallest miracle to make you stay, taking his time to help you accept all the news he dropped like a bomb on your head. Instead, he simply let you go. It hurt, but it was necessary: he wouldn't force anything, not with you.
Plus, he had the feeling it was not over.
God, he knew the angel was not going to like what had just happened.
Crowley stood there, surrounded by a deep silence.
He knew he was going to see you again, soon or late. Probably soon.
You had even forgotten your purse at his flat, and he knew it was your favourite one.