An entire week had passed by since the night at the gentlemen's club and Aziraphale still couldn't get the man he had seen out of his mind. He'd never felt this way before. He supposed he could wait it out- ignore these feelings and hope they'd fade with time- or he could act on them. The thought of acting on his feelings was daunting, but if he was being honest with himself he didn't think he could live with doing nothing. These emotions were formidable and he was sure time would do nothing to change them, so acting was really his only option.

Aziraphale gripped his hair in frustration. He knew what he had to do, but he had no idea how. Could he just approach the man? What would he say; what would he wear? He didn't even know the man's name! Aziraphale was a bundle of nerves about to explode. He stalked into his kitchen and grabbed a bottle of moscato, pouring himself a glass. He drank it quickly and then poured himself another. He didn't want to get drunk exactly, a bit tipsy perhaps, but he didn't think he could face the man he'd been thinking about all week without a little liquid courage first. And so, a fair amount of alcohol later, Aziraphale was making his way down to the club.

He had the taxi driver stop a few blocks back, embarrassed of his destination. He could see the neon sign blinking as he approached: The Garden of Eden Gentlemen's Club. He took a deep breath and entered. It was aptly named, he thought. A paradise of attractive, half-clothed men and women, beautiful to look at, but impossible to touch. Aziraphale paid no attention to the bodies around him; he was really only interested in one. Like Adam and Eve desired the proverbial apple he yearned for the man he had seen on stage. He had only seen the man once and yet he positively ached for him. He longed to know his name, dreamed of the way his hips moved as if they had a mind of their own, craved the taste of the man's flesh against his tongue. This man was his apple and he wanted to take a bite. He knew it was wrong, to lust for someone he'd never even met, and yet he never wanted anything more. The alcohol in his system was letting his mind go wild and he tried to shake himself out of it as he scanned the club. As luck would have it, Aziraphale spotted Serpent across the room; he was just getting on to the stage from the looks of it. All those wandering thoughts he had been having stopped as his mind went blank.

"I can't do this," Aziraphale whispered under his breath. To think things was one thing, but to actually approach the man was another completely. He shuddered as a spike of anxiety went down his spine. He turned around and went straight for the bar to order something strong.

One drink and a few shots later Aziraphale was feeling a bit dizzy and had mostly forgotten why he was so nervous. He made his way through the throngs of people, past a drunken bachelorette and her even drunker friends, to the side stage where Serpent was still dancing. He was stripped down to his ever-present sunglasses, a necklace, and a tantalizing, skin tight pair of mini black booty shorts. He was standing on a chair in front of the stage, his arms above his head and hands gripping the pole behind him as his hips gyrated. Serpent swayed to the music and Aziraphale swayed from the alcohol until he reached the stage, which he used to steady himself. He vaguely remembered that money was involved and clumsily grabbed some bills from his wallet, not even thinking to see what they were. All his worries had vanished and he happily held out one of the bills with the hand that wasn't gripping the stage for support. The song was beginning to end and Aziraphale smiled giddily as the next song, one he didn't recognize, began to play.

The man jumped off the chair and, despite his blurred vision, Aziraphale could easily see his sweat-slicked skin under the bright stage light. The man got on his knees and began to collect the money that was being offered to him. He bit a five pound note out of a girl's hand and Aziraphale felt a small wave of jealousy wash over him. When he got around to Aziraphale he grabbed the note and paused. Aziraphale wasn't sure how long the man looked at him; it could've been hours, but was most likely seconds, before the man offered him his hand and pulled him up on stage.

If he hadn't been quite so drunk Aziraphale would have been shocked, but as it was he just smiled and blundered on to the stage. He managed to make it up without falling and felt incredibly pleased with himself as the other man guided him to sit in the chair. This close Aziraphale was able to finally get a good look at the man who had been running through his mind all week. He was tall, around 186 centimeters from the looks of it. He had short, tousled red hair that looked even more disheveled as the man ran his hand through it. The necklace that hung around his smooth chest was a simple, long, thin black chain. He had a small trail of hair just barely visible above his black mini shorts, which were tight spandex. Aziraphale felt himself slipping another note into the man's shorts before he even realized what he was doing, the upbeat music and alcohol running through his veins letting him lose his inhibitions.

Touch me in the dark. Put your hands all over my body parts. Throw me on the bed. Squeeze, tease me, please me, that's what I said!

He was close enough to smell Serpent's cologne as the man pulled his hands above his head and began to grind down on him teasingly. A small moan escaped Aziraphale's lips and he could swear he saw the other man smirk. He let go of Aziraphale's hands and placed one end of his necklace over Aziraphale's head. He was so close that Aziraphale thought he was going to kiss him; Aziraphale wondered briefly if Serpent would whisper into his ear, entice him to take the plunge and bite in like the serpent in the story of Eden had. He was sure he wouldn't need much tempting at all, but the other man simply leaned down and out of the necklace so that it was only worn by Aziraphale. Then he got up and pulled Aziraphale with him, turning around so that his ass was pressed flat against the shorter man's front. Serpent bent down, still grinding against him as he went, and then snapped up, ripping his shorts off in one go. Aziraphale looked down at the man's back and could see the sweat glistening down towards the bright red thong he now had on. It was rather small and left very little to the imagination. His supple thighs and tender cheeks were now on display for everyone to see. The crowd below cheered and threw their money to the stage, but Aziraphale tuned them out. He allowed himself an indulgent glance at the skin that was now exposed when the man suddenly turned around and he could see that the front left very little to the imagination as well. His face flushed red and his last thought was that the taller man was rather well-endowed before everything went black.

"Jesus, Crowley, what happened to him?" someone asked, not sounding the least perturbed.

"He fell off the stage; I don't know," Crowley answered. "He seemed fine before, a bit tipsy maybe, but I didn't think he'd just pass out."

"Why'd you pull him on the stage if he was tipsy? You know better than that."

"He gave me a fifty pound note and he was looking at me like, well, he's pretty cute, y'know?" Crowley hesitated and then, "Do you think he's going to be alright?"

"How would I know? He's your problem now, Crowley, just make sure he doesn't want to sue," the person replied and left

"Yeah, yeah, of course B," Crowley said, still staring at the man before him. He placed his fingers gently on the welt on the side of his head and the man groaned. "Ooh, that's quite the bump, isn't it?" He looked around the back room for a rag; deciding paper towels would have to do, he put some under cold water in the sink and brought it back towards the unconscious gentleman laying on the bench. He had brought him to the back room to get away from the strobing lights and blaring music. He wasn't entirely sure how to deal with this. He'd been stripping for almost a year and he had never had someone faint on him. He placed the cold towels on the man's head and watched as he began to stir.

Aziraphale had heard parts of the conversation even though his head wanted nothing more than to fall into a long, deep sleep. He realized that the man he'd been obsessing over was named Crowley, but otherwise he was too tired to pay much attention or even try to tell them both that he was jolly good, just a bit tired and maybe a little nippish. Now that he was thinking about it he could really go for some crepes, but a nap first. Some sleep and then some crepes; it sounded perfect. Suddenly he felt something cold and wet press against his forehead and he shuddered before bolting upright.

He opened his eyes and then closed them just as quickly, the fluorescent lighting of the employee's back room burning his eyes and causing his head to ache. He felt a warm hand press against his back and a soft voice asked if he was okay. He took a deep breath and took a chance at opening his eyes again. It hurt less the second time and he was able to look towards the voice. He gasped. It was the man, Crowley, his mind helpfully supplied. He was completely dressed now in black skinny jeans, a dark grey v-neck, and an open black jacket. He lowered his sunglasses minutely to look Aziraphale over. Aziraphale noted that he had brilliant golden eyes before he pulled his glasses back up.

"H-how long have I been out?" Aziraphale asked.

"About three hours. I've been checking in on you, but you went down like a lead balloon. We closed half an hour ago; I wasn't really sure what to do with you. Everyone else's gone home; I was honestly about to call an ambulance."

"Ah, there'll be no need for that," Aziraphale said, quickly sobering up. "I'm so sorry about the trouble. I must've had too much to drink."

"'S alright. Are you sure you're okay?" He leaned in close to look at the bump again; it really was quite big. "Need some aspirin or something?"

Aziraphale blushed as the man leaned in and he began to remember exactly why it was he'd passed out. "I'm quite alright, really. I'm a doctor; I'll make sure to look at it once I get home, but I think I just need a cold compress and some rest. If I get worse I'll go in, promise." He got up and began to stumble, but Crowley caught him.

"Whoa there, take it easy now," Crowley said as he brought Aziraphale's arm over his shoulder. "Let me drive you home at least?"

"Oh, you really don't have to do that," Aziraphale floundered as he tried to walk in step with the taller man.

"I do; I'm the one who pulled you up on the stage in the first place. Plus my boss wanted me to take care of you. Said I was an idiot for letting someone fall down right in front of me. I tried to catch you, honestly, but like I said, lead balloon." Crowley chuckled, "Ze also said to make sure you wouldn't sue."

Aziraphale knew he was joking around, but he flustered anyway, "I wouldn't!"

Crowley chuckled some more, "Good. Now get in the car?"

When had they made it to the street Aziraphale wondered. He suddenly felt very tired so he shrugged, "Ah, alright."

They both got into the car, a black Bentley, and Crowley handed him his phone. Aziraphale looked at him with confusion.

"I need your address. Type it into the phone?"

"Oh, right," he said as he began typing. He handed the phone back and shivered as their hands touched.

"What's your name?" Crowley asked.

"Aziraphale."

"That's different," he said quietly. Then, a bit louder, he asked, "What year is it?"

"I don't have a concussion!" Aziraphale answered.

"Okay, okay, just checking." Then he started the Bentley and began to drive.

Crowley drove fast. Much too fast, Aziraphale decided. He took a sharp left turn and Aziraphale had to hold in a terrified noise that was coming from the back of his throat. Another left turn, that felt even sharper, had him gripping Crowley's arm.

"Don't you think you're going a bit fast? The speed limit's 48, not 90!"

"Relaaax, I've done this plenty of times." He took another sharp turn and Aziraphale screamed. Crowley laughed. The rest of the ride home would have almost been pleasant if he hadn't been so terrified, Aziraphale thought. Queen played softly in the background and he tried to pay attention to that instead of the manic driving.

"Here we go," Crowley said after a while. "This is it, right?"

"Yes, this is it," Aziraphale replied. "I feel I must compensate you somehow; you really didn't have to look after me like this."

"Nah, you already 'compensated' me earlier," Crowley chuckled.

"Oh?" Aziraphale tried to remember.

"Yeah, you shoved a £50 down my pants."

"Oh! Oh, right, sorry."

"Don't apologize; made my night." Crowley answered. "Do you need any help inside?"

"No, no, I'm fine, thank you," Aziraphale said hurriedly, got out of the car, and fell promptly onto his face. "I'm fine," he whimpered. Crowley got out of the car and helped the other man up.

"Here, just let me help. I don't bite...usually," he winked.

Aziraphale blushed, "thank you, really."

"Stop thanking me; it's fine."

They made their way up to Aziraphale's Soho flat. He juggled with the keys for a minute, but soon they got inside. Aziraphale led them to his bedroom and tried not to blush as Crowley set him down and took off his shoes. The man went into his bathroom and came out with a bottle of mild pain reliever and a glass of water. He set them on the nightstand and began to leave, but stopped short of the doorway.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?"

Aziraphale hesitated for a second, but then answered "Yes. I'll be fine. Just need to sleep it off. Thank you again; you're very kind."

"Am not," Crowley said, sticking out his tongue. "Good night, angel."

Aziraphale wasn't quite sure he'd heard him correctly, but he was too tired to think about it, so he simply called good night after him and then face planted right into his pillows and passed out for the second time that night.

A/N:

Crowley's dick game's so strong Zira passed out lmao. But seriously, Aziraphale's gonna be avoiding alcohol for at least a week now, poor boy.

Also, the other person talking to Crowley is Beelzebub, his boss. I wanted to give zir a human name, but couldn't think of one so Crowley just calls zir "B".

Questions, comments? Leave them below and I'll get back to you asap. I hope you all like this chapter even though I wrote it at 2am!