A/N: This chapter has discussions about sex, fyi, so feel free to skip the middle section if that's not up your alley ^_^ It's completely non-explicit, just a little awkward for the poor dears.
An important note: please remember that I'm writing them as romantic asexuals. Crowley and Azi are not homophobic. They have no personal or moral issues with other people engaging in homosexual sex if that's what consenting people want to do, it just isn't what THEY want in this version I'm writing because they simply do not experience sexual attraction of any sort. Within the spectrum, I'm writing Crowley as sex-repulsed and Aziraphale one tick mark further, somewhere between repulsed and indifferent in that he wouldn't be interested for himself, but for the right partner (Crowley and Crowley alone) he would have made an exception and participated with full consent if it was something Crowley wanted to try.
It was some time before Crowley and Aziraphale decided to continue their Conversation. Crowley had been putting it off, truth be told, staying in his flat except for the occasional joyride. They'd both agreed they should take some time to decompress from the whole mess with the Apocalypse, and more importantly the resulting trials, and most importantly this journey they were embarking on together.
Together.
Crowley loved that word. And he loved Aziraphale, more than any demon had ever loved anything (more than any human had ever loved anything too, he would privately maintain, because surely no one in the world could be as worthy of such love and affection as Aziraphale, and he was all Crowley's).
Even still, he found himself bashfully avoiding the subject, leaving Aziraphale as much space and time as the angel could want, hoping against hope Aziraphale wouldn't decide in that time that it wasn't worth the trouble after all.
And so it was Aziraphale who finally called him up, almost a week after they'd first confessed their feelings.
"How are you getting on, then?" the angel asked. "Alright?"
"Alright, yeah."
"Splendid. Listen, my dear, I've been thinking, and I do believe we ought to try talking this through a tad more thoroughly. I can't quite get my head 'round things and it would go so much easier if I could work through it with you. Are you busy?"
Crowley had to snort at that, because what could he possibly be busy with? It wasn't as though either of them had jobs anymore. Well, Aziraphale had the bookshop, such as it was, not that he did much selling if he could at all help it.
"Naw," he said, angrily trying to banish the sudden butterflies but only making himself feel more fluttery and anxious. "Your place, then?"
"Whichever you think best. Though I did just open an excellent vintage of Bordeaux... if I can tempt you."
The joke was enough to make Crowley affectionately roll his eyes and shake his head. No matter how nervous he felt, it was still just Aziraphale, the same ridiculous angel he'd always loved.
"Consider me tempted," Crowley said with a snicker. "Won't be a moment."
And it was indeed little more than a moment, as fast as he took the Bentley through London (the angel would have been clutching the seat for dear life in such a dramatic way as though there was any actual danger), then he was waltzing through the bookshop's front door.
"Lovely," Aziraphale beamed. "Do flip the sign over, won't you?"
"It's the middle of the day," Crowley pointed out, as though that would have made the slightest difference, as he changed the sign to "Closed" and flipped the lock.
"Yes, and as my notice clearly states, I close the shop early on Tuesdays if something needs tending to."
"It's Sunday."
"Yes, and if you read at the bottom there, it does quite explicitly instruct 'for Sundays, see Tuesdays', and on Tuesdays I close early if I so choose. And I so choose. Here, the bottle's had a moment to breathe, it should be quite ready now!"
Crowley shook his head, not troubling to try explaining how insane Aziraphale's notice of operating hours were, when he knew good and well that was the whole idea of it.
"Bordeaux, is it?" he asked instead, following Aziraphale to their preferred seating area, a couch and an overstuffed armchair pulled close together around a low table that could hold several bottles at the ready.
"A Pauillac from Chateau Pichon," Aziraphale said proudly, holding a bottle aloft with an air of great delight. His cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink as he added, quieter, "1941."
"1941," Crowley snorted. "Not many great vintages coming out of the middle of a war— oh..." The demon felt himself turning pink as well as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Well... I suppose 1941 had some good things to offer."
"A very good year," Aziraphale murmured, still quite red. "Forgive me, I'm sentimental."
"I like sentimental," Crowley decided. "Big sentimental fan, me. Pour us a glass, then."
He sprawled across the sofa as the angel poured two glasses and handed one to Crowley before finding his own seat in the armchair. Crowley raised the glass.
"To playing spy and blowing up churches."
"To rescued books and old friends," Aziraphale countered, giving Crowley that coy, bashful side-look from behind blond lashes that always left him crazy with affection.
"And getting angels out of ridiculous messes."
"And demons foxtrotting across holy ground to do just that."
"And dead Nazis. That's always worth drinking to, isn't it?"
Aziraphale shuddered, face pinching in. "Ugh, such horrid fellows. Got what they deserved, that's for certain. Wouldn't be proper to drink to Nazis though, even dead ones. How about..."
"Let's go back to yours," Crowley suggested. His face softened as he plucked off his glasses and tossed them onto the table before looking back at Aziraphale just so he could watch his face as he murmured, "Rescued books and old friends."
He didn't know if Aziraphale was always aware when he started glowing in true happiness. The angel's face brightened, though his smile was still soft and happy, golden light beaming out of his whole body. Aziraphale raised his glass.
"Old friends."
They both took a long drink in silence before sighing with contentment and settling back in their respective seats. Crowley almost forgot about the fluttering butterflies in his stomach as they turned to the usual topics of what funny things they'd seen the humans doing recently (not even due to Crowley's mischief this time, he swore), or how the shop was faring (not a single sale all week, Aziraphale was delighted to report), or whether ancient Greece or ancient Egypt had been more fun (there were plagues, Crowley, mummies just were not "nifty" enough to make up for that), and all other manner of pleasant conversation.
With the rescued-books-bottle soon finished off, they eventually opened another, a little more giddy and slurred than before but also—at least in Crowley's case—a bit braver.
"I like this," he confessed, gesturing between the two of them so that the wine in his glass was in perilous danger of being sloshed all over the floor. "Us," he clarified needlessly. "Our own side. You'n'me. I mean, together." Smooth, Crowley.
"I as well, my dear," Aziraphale assured him. "But we shouldn't put this off any longer. Even if we don't know exactly what this ought to look like, I should feel much better with at least a little clearer picture in my head."
"Mm-hmm."
But Crowley didn't really know where to start. He had ideas and pictures in his own head, but how that fit with whatever Aziraphale might want, he wasn't sure. It didn't seem like the angel was all that sure either, but where was he even supposed to begin with how he hoped this would work?
"For starters," Aziraphale prompted when Crowley didn't expand on the thought. "What— what do we even call ourselves?"
Crowley stared at him blankly. "Aziraphale and—"
"No," the angel cut him off with an awkward chuckle. "I mean... We love each other." He blushed a bit, which was outstandingly adorable.
"Yes?"
"We're on our own side."
"Agreed?"
"But— oh blast, you're not helping, Crowley. I— I would like to be... with you. A proper relationship, you know. A... a couple." Aziraphale poured another generous glass of wine for himself, still anxiously not quite looking at Crowley.
"Yes, right, good," Crowley said with his heart hammering in his chest. "Yes, a couple. Couple of occult beings—"
"Must you? As I have said, I'm ethereal!"
"—occult beings being a couple. In a relationship." He stumbled a little over the word, but he would blame the wine and not the butterflies because in spite of what he'd felt all day, demons did not get butterflies.
Aziraphale let out an exasperated sigh. "But what do we call ourselves? Forgive me, but 'boyfriend' sounds a tad bit... I don't know, underwhelming? But we aren't married so you're not a husband and that feels presumptuous of me anyway when possibly that level of commitment isn't at all what you're hoping to get out of this because we haven't really discussed it, and now that we are I still can't quite get a read on it, but I'm not clear on what the other options even are."
Crowley huffed a short laugh, waving his hand to cut off what was fast becoming a full on babble. He felt the corner of his mouth turn up in deeper affection still as Aziraphale managed to anxiously wring his hands without even spilling his wine. He tried to imagine what it could feel like to not hope for the deepest level of commitment to this absolutely ridiculous creature.
"Do we have to put a label on it?" he grumbled all the same. Though he had to admit, 'boyfriend' didn't quite strike his fancy, either. 'Husband' was technically inaccurate (thought it did funny things to the way his heart was beating). Maybe someday but not something to jump straight into and bypass everything that should come first. Not to mention, the angel might have kept the same presentation from the beginning, but Crowley tended to switch as his fancy dictated, which made those options a bit limiting.
But Aziraphale looked so earnestly pleading for help that Crowley exhaled in thought and suggested, "Well, what about 'partner' then?"
He could tell it was exactly the right idea when Aziraphale straightened up with an expression of clear delight. In his mind, Crowley patted himself on the back.
"Oh, yes, that's perfect! Partners... partners, and we always were, in some fashion or other, but it does take on a new meaning now, doesn't it? Partners, then. I'm your partner, Crowley."
He said it with such pride and love that Crowley nearly turned into a snake just as an alternative to evaporating on the spot with emotion. His throat tightened, once more struck with awe that he could be so loved by one such as this, but tried to maintain an outwardly collected facade.
Another thought occurred to him and this time Crowley really did feel scales popping up on his skin in anticipation of becoming a snake and slithering away if this derailed in too awful a way.
"Erm," he said with a cough, hoping the scales hadn't reached his face as he carefully examined his wine. "With all of this, angel..."
"Yes, dear boy?"
"Erm. Just... I don't know if you were expecting— I mean, how... how much... ngk, physical stuff were you hoping to... you know..."
Aziraphale stared at him, setting his glass down. "I'm afraid I don't know. Physical...? Are you... talking about sex?"
He seemed perfectly comfortable blurting out the word. Crowley wasn't sure if this was comforting or concerning.
"I mean, it's what human partners do," the demon said carefully. "Some of them. Most of them. Not all of 'em. So I didn't know if... maybe you'd been thinking..."
He chanced a swift side glance towards Aziraphale, who was studying him with more curiosity than Crowley was comfortable with.
"I mean... I suppose I..." Aziraphale tried with obvious uncertainty. "I hadn't given it much thought. I suppose that is what would normally be expected. Oh, I hadn't thought about this, Crowley, I'm sorry, I—"
"Because if you didn't want to," Crowley leaped onto the angel's hesitation in a rush, "it's alright. Like I said, there's people who don't. Partners who don't. Wouldn't be unheard of. I wouldn't mind a bit."
This drew a more narrowed look from Aziraphale, Crowley could feel the piercing gaze on him.
"You're growing scales, dearest. I must confess, right now my primary fear is that if I tell you I'm not much interested in the idea, you might... you might take it to mean that... that I'm not interested in you, or that I..." He sighed wretchedly. "Oh Crowley, is it something you would want? It's just that I never bothered making an Effort because I never cared overly much for the idea myself, but you simply must understand it's not because of you, not in any way, certainly not a reflection of any revulsion towards you personally, it's only that I find other human indulgences far more satisfying, like good food and good wine, but... if it's been something you were hoping to try, I would of course be open to whatever you wanted. If you aren't..."
Despite the fact that Aziraphale had started babbling again, Crowley felt a surge of relief, the scales his skin had been morphing into now disappearing all at once.
"Never made an Effort either," he admitted. "Seems silly, I know, me a demon who's supposed to be doing all this tempting, and lust being the absolute easiest temptation there is, but honestly, angel, I don't like the thought. Never did. The whole idea just doesn't do it for me. So... we're good then? Leave the sex to the humans and stick to doing this our own way?"
"You're alright with that?" Aziraphale checked with a note of desperation.
Crowley needed more wine. He downed the rest of his glass in one go and poured himself another. "Like I said, I don't like the thought. And I don't mean, 'it's alright if you don't want to', I mean 'I don't want to'. So yes, I'm more than alright. Kinda relieved, actually. Wasn't sure what I was going to do if you said you did want it..."
Straightening in his seat, Aziraphale fixed him with a glower. "I expect you would have still immediately told me that you didn't. We promised open communication, did we not? I said I wouldn't go along with something I didn't want in order to please you. That does go both ways, Crowley. Again, I'm going to have to insist. You weren't actually thinking of engaging in such activities when I can now clearly see how averse you are to it? Crowley?"
"And what did you just say?" Crowley shot back, needled a bit at being called out. "You'd be 'open to whatever I wanted if it was something I was hoping to try'?"
"No! Well— yes, that's what I said, but—"
"But what? No, angel, the thought of doing anything to you that you didn't actually want is worse than the idea of having sex, and that's saying something!"
Aziraphale looked absolutely wretched, holding up his hands in placation. "No, of course you're right, my dear. I suppose for me, it's less about being utterly against the idea, and more... I don't know, I don't care for the idea for myself and would never have suggested it personally, but if you did want to give it a try, I don't think I'd be as averse. Not if it was with you. I'm not interested, but would likely still have found it enjoyable because— because it's you. Oh dear, I don't know if this is making any sense at all. I don't understand it myself. At any rate, it's off the table for both of us, and we agree that in all things, if it's off the table for one of us then it's off the table for both of us."
Crowley nodded, appeased. And given that he had been privately considering how he might bring himself to stomach the experience if Aziraphale really and truly wanted to, he couldn't actually be cross with the angel. And if Aziraphale had, and they had, and then it came out later Crowley was opposed all along, it would have wrecked the angel. Crowley would have to take better care with their promise.
"Naw, it's alright," he said, settling back down and motioning for Aziraphale to pick up his glass again and join him in drinking. "There's a word for that, I think. When you're willing with specific people but not in general. Can't think what it is at the moment. Ngk. Anyway, can we move on?"
"Yes, alright," Aziraphale was quick to agree, though he did at least collect his wine glass for a careful sip. "But you do know, don't you, it's not because you're a demon? I don't find the idea of trying it with a human appealing either."
That he should be so worried about Crowley's feelings and potential insecurities on that score warmed the demon's heart, and he gave the angel a smirk. "I know. Look, let's try something else. What do you find appealing?"
"Oh... do you mind terribly if I ask you to start?" Aziraphale asked, ducking his head. "It's just I feel you've got some actual ideas, whereas I'm still floundering a bit to even know what options there even are, let alone how I feel about them."
Crowley exhaled, steeling himself to the idea that he was going to have to be a bit vulnerable here, or neither of them were going to get anywhere. He didn't realize he'd reached for his glasses until they were on his face, giving him some level of protection. Crowley immediately felt awful for the implication it might send and yanked the dark glasses back off again.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"No, dear boy, put them on," Aziraphale urged. "This is frankly all a bit terrifying and they've always been your shield and security. I don't take offense."
Relieved and taking him at his word, Crowley settled the dark glasses back over his eyes. "Alright then. Nothing to do with Efforts. You, erm... you mentioned commitments earlier and I do like the sound of that. That's what I want. You an' me, committed, partners, just the two of us. And I like romance, and if you tell anyone I said so..." he growled, jabbing a finger in Aziraphale's direction.
Aziraphale made a valiant attempt to smother an obvious indulgent smile, not entirely successfully.
"Your secret is safe with me, my dear, romantic demon. Go on. You already know I quite enjoy holding your hand, but I imagine there's quite a distance between that and anything with an Effort."
"Yeah." With his eyes hidden away, Crowley felt minimally more able to watch Aziraphale's face for any sign of distaste as he went on, "The other demons... well, they're not exactly the cuddly kind. Wouldn't want them to be, anyway. Ugh. But you..."
Aziraphale perked up. "Am I cuddly?"
The direct and rather pleased question made Crowley nearly snort out the wine he'd taken a bracing sip of. He spluttered a bit, trying to collect himself. "Erm... yes, angel, you're... you're very cuddly. Terrifying with a sword, but damn cuddly, really."
"Comes with the territory of being soft, I suppose," Aziraphale murmured, smile slipping just a bit as he glanced down at his stomach.
Crowley had no idea what might have brought on a ridiculous thought like that, but he didn't like it. "What's wrong with being soft?"
"Oh, nothing. Just something Gabriel said— dear, don't snarl."
Crowley was doing exactly that, fangs extending in his mouth. One more reason he would have happily ended Gabriel instead of just spitting fire at him, except Aziraphale wouldn't have done that and so he couldn't. Deciding to try a different tack, Crowley forced his fangs away and regarded the angel.
"Do you... want to try something?" he asked, uncertain.
"What?"
Crowley rubbed the back of his neck. "Erm... just... come over here and sit with me."
Aziraphale readily got to (slightly unsteady) feet and stumbled around the little table, nearly toppling down onto Crowley but managing to sit with the smallest bit of decorum. Crowley shifted the glass to his other hand and hesitantly lifted his arm.
"Er— if you want, you could... you know... I don't mind if you're closer."
"Oh! Oh... cuddly," Aziraphale breathed. He beamed and scooted closer so that he was right up against Crowley, then leaned all the way against him.
Crowley let his arm drape across the angel's shoulders and his heart beat significantly faster. For a second, he held perfectly still, letting Aziraphale get used to this, then he wiggled a bit so that he was lounging slightly against the arm of the sofa, pulling Aziraphale with him. And the angel was soft, and warm, not like fire but like a blanket. Crowley's throat closed a bit more, suddenly not daring to believe this was actually real except it had to be because he felt it there in his arms.
"Oh, this is nice," Aziraphale said. He sounded a bit watery himself, which made Crowley feel better. He could feel the angel relaxing more and more, allowing himself to actually rest against Crowley and then even dip his head down to lay on the demon's shoulder.
"Yeah," was all he could think to say.
Aziraphale was trembling just a bit, and then something wet dripped onto Crowley's sleeve. "Sorry," the angel whispered when Crowley shifted in preparation to ask with alarm if he was alright. "No, please don't. Don't move. I— I just want to stay here. Just like this. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be silly, it's just... oh Crowley this feels so nice, I— I don't know why I'm getting all teary..."
"Because the other angels aren't very cuddly either," Crowley murmured, carefully holding still and tightening his grip on Aziraphale. "This is alright then? To do this?"
"More than alright," Aziraphale whispered. He was still gripping his wine glass, no longer in a good position to drink without spilling it all over them.
Crowley miracled both their glasses back to the table so that he wouldn't have to move the slightest inch and risk disturbing this unbelievable moment he'd found himself in. How many times had he imagined exactly this, just being able to casually hold Aziraphale against him, to actually feel the pattering of the angel's heart, the trust with which Aziraphale leaned completely into him?
"I'm sorry," Aziraphale said again, starting to tremble harder. "It feels so nice and here I am, as weepy as— it's only— I've never been— you make me feel protected, being like this, like... like... like something worth protecting."
The last bit was whispered but Crowley felt the words in his very soul. He turned his head a bit to look at Aziraphale, then carefully miracled his glasses back away.
"You make me feel capable of protecting someone," he whispered back. "You deserve to have someone watch over you for a change, angel. It's alright if you want to get weepy."
"Oh, Crowley, I've already cried on you once—"
"And here I am. Good for crying on, me. It's alright if this feels good, you know that, right?"
"I know..."
"You're allowed to feel good and not just from food or books. You can feel good with someone else. Maybe you're getting weepy because you... you know... always wanted someone to hold you like this and make you feel safe, only no one ever did? So let me do it now. I've got you. I'll always have you."
He heard a sniffle from his shoulder.
"Wily serpent, always knowing just what to say..."
Aziraphale snuggled in a bit closer, maybe even without thinking about it, and Crowley tightened his grip with a smile.
Cuddles, he silently checked off his ongoing mental list of things Aziraphale liked very much. Which was good, because demon or no, Crowley quite liked them too, and he was content to stay just like that for the rest of his life. Right there.
With Aziraphale... with his partner.