Authors Note:
Crowley and Aziraphale's physical appearances are based on their descriptions from the novel rather than the TV show. The main difference is that there's an age difference between them.
Crowley is a 'young man' and he has 'dark hair and good cheekbones.'
Aziraphale has 'plump' and 'elegantly-manicured hands.'
When Madame Tracy sees Aziraphale for the first time she disappointedly says, "Somehow, I thought you'd be younger."
And Aziraphale's reaction to getting his body back is as follows: 'Aziraphale looked down at his new body which was, unfortunately, very much like his old body.' The 'Unfortunately' implies that Aziraphale isn't overly confident in his appearance.
Crowley was sprawled out on his sofa in his Mayfair flat, bored and in desperate need of company.
He grabbed his smartphone from where it had slipped down the side of the sofa, put his feet up on the coffee table, and then called Aziraphale's number.
Aziraphale answered after only a few rings. "Hallo?"
"Hi. It's me. D'ya fancy going out for dinner tonight?"
Aziraphale made a delighted sound. "Oh, yes! That sounds lovely! How about the Ritz?"
"Sure."
It had been a year since the failed apocalypse, and they were closer than ever before. They saw each other all the time – in fact, Crowley had seen Aziraphale three times this week already and it was only Thursday.
"I'll pick you up from the bookshop, yeah? About six?"
There came a brief pause. "Oh, actually, I'm at dance class this evening. Could you pick me up from there? About seven?"
Crowley raised an eyebrow. "You've taken up dancing again? What are you learning this time - something more modern that the gavotte, I hope?"
"The waltz!" Aziraphale said excitedly.
Crowley smiled to himself. "Of course you are."
"It's great fun! I think you'd really enjoy it."
"I don't dance, angel."
As much as Crowley would love an excuse to hold Aziraphale close and sway around a room with him, he couldn't think of anything more humiliating than showing Aziraphale just how bad he was at dancing. He'd probably knock them both over.
"But you do dance!" Aziraphale argued, frustration in his voice. "I saw you disco dancing a few years ago."
Crowley's face prickled with heat. "That was decades ago. And I was drunk. Besides, it's hardly the same thing as ballroom dancing."
Aziraphale huffed. "Well, alright, but I really think you're missing out."
Aziraphale gave him the address of the dance studio and assured him that he could park anywhere he wished in the car park out front - Aziraphale would okay it with his dancing instructor.
After the phone call Crowley played a match-3 game on his phone, but his mind kept drifting to thoughts of himself and Aziraphale slow dancing around a ballroom, holding each other close, so close they could kiss if they wanted to. Which Crowley definitely did, but he wasn't so sure about Aziraphale's feelings.
After the failed apocalypse, now that they were on their own side, Crowley had hoped that Aziraphale would confess to having feelings for him, but it had been over a year and Aziraphale had said nothing. Crowley had resisted the urge to be the one to make the first move, scared of going too fast like he always did and ruining everything. But even if their relationship couldn't be romantic, Crowley was still perfectly content with how things were now. They were free and safe, and that was more important than anything else. He had more than he'd ever dared to hope for.
Crowley was sat in the parked Bentley, listening to Queen and browsing Twitter on his phone while he waited for Aziraphale to finish his dance class.
People started filing out of the building and Crowley scanned the crowd, looking for Aziraphale. Most of the humans were in couples, some even wearing suits and ball gowns, but Aziraphale, when he appeared, was dressed in his usual attire complete with bowtie. He was walking alongside a young man who looked roughly the same age as Crowley – or at least, the same age that Crowley appeared to be – early twenties.
The man was tall, slender, and well-toned. He wore a white T-shirt, tight jeans, and a winning smile. His chestnut brown hair was carefully slicked back.
They stopped on the pavement just to the side of the studio door to continue their conversation, talking animatedly. Aziraphale said something, a happy smile on his face, and then the young man burst into laughter, slapping Aziraphale playfully on the arm.
Crowley narrowed his eyes.
The man stopped laughing and said something while pointing at Aziraphale's throat, and then proceeded to 'correct' his bowtie for him. Aziraphale looked a bit taken aback, but not at all upset by this gross manhandling.
For a fraction of a second, Crowley's lip twisted into a snarl, but then he quickly forced his face back into something nonchalant, just in case they looked in his direction. He tried to ignore the stab of jealously deep in his chest. He reminded himself that he and Aziraphale were not together, Aziraphale's love life was none of his business, and Aziraphale was free to flirt - and be flirted with - if that was what he wanted.
Aziraphale turned his head, saw Crowley, and his face lit up. He gave him a cheerful wave, and Crowley waved back.
The young man followed Aziraphale's line-of-sight and when he saw Crowley his eyes hardened. There was something in his eyes which immediately set off alarm bells in Crowley's mind - the demonic part of him insisting that something was off - but it was entirely possible that he was only feeling this way because he was jealous.
The man turned his attention back to Aziraphale, his smile gone and his lips moving quickly, but Crowley couldn't tell what he was saying. Aziraphale glanced back at Crowley before responding and looking embarrassed. The two of them seemed to settle back into some sort of a conversation and then after a minute or two they said their goodbyes. The man pulled Aziraphale into a hug, making eye contact with Crowley the entire time that he squeezed him. Crowley smiled like a shark but the man seemed unfazed.
Once the man released Aziraphale from his grasp they parted ways – without a goodbye kiss, thank someone, which was a small mercy at least.
Aziraphale headed over to the Bentley with a bounce in his step. The man stood still on the pavement, watching Aziraphale go, and it was only when Aziraphale had settled into the passenger seat that the man marched away to his own car.
"Hello, my dear! Thank you so much for picking me up," Aziraphale said cheerfully, as if he hadn't just been molested right there on the street in front of everyone.
"No problem," said Crowley. "Who was the hugger back there?"
"Oh!" Aziraphale glanced back at the man climbing into his car. "He's my dance partner. Jamie. Lovely fellow."
Ah. Of course they were dancing together. How bloody romantic.
Crowley couldn't resist his next question. "Are you and him… you know. Together?"
Aziraphale let out a shocked bark of laughter. "Good gracious, no! The instructor paired us up. Most people come to classes as a pair, but singles like me get matched up with someone. For my first few lessons I was matched with this lovely old girl - Mavis. We had quite a lark, but for the last couple of weeks I've been with Jamie."
Crowley nodded, relieved beyond measure. He wanted Aziraphale to be happy of course, but he'd much rather it wasn't with Jamie.
"Ah. You both just looked kinda close, that's all." Crowley said, trying to sound casual.
"I'm old enough to be his father. As far as he's concerned anyway. And besides, I'm not interested in him like that."
"Just let him down gently, yeah?" Crowley said as the Bentley pulled out into the street.
"I hardly think I need to worry about that sort of thing," Aziraphale scoffed. "I'm sure I'm not his type."
"I think you are."
Aziraphale gave him a strange look. "Why? Because he hugged me?"
"And he fixed your bowtie. And he kept glaring at me."
Aziraphale frowned, looking confused. "He glared at you? That doesn't sound like him at all." There was a brief pause, in which Aziraphale's cheeks coloured. "He asked if we were an item."
"You see?" Crowley said. "He wants to know if he has competition. He fancies you."
"No, he doesn't. He was probably just worried about me," Aziraphale insisted. "You do have a 'bad boy' vibe."
Crowley smiled proudly.
"He definitely doesn't have a thing for me Crowley," Aziraphale said, sounding irritated. "I mean, I'm old and… you know."
"What?"
"Well, I'm not exactly oozing sex appeal, am I?"
"What are you talking about? You've got plenty of sex appeal," Crowley said, staring straight ahead at the road and hoping that his sunglasses were enough to hide the blush coming to his cheeks. "You're all dignified and elegant and stuff."
"Well… Er. Thank you. That's very kind of you to say."
"I mean it, and I really think he fancies you so just let him down gently, okay? Maybe you shouldn't dance with him anymore."
Aziraphale looked taken aback. "Well, who else am I supposed to dance with? Everyone else has paired up already. Unless… Would you-?"
"Dancing isn't my thing."
Aziraphale let out a sigh.
As they headed to the restaurant, Crowley's heart fluttered. Perhaps the real reason Aziraphale hadn't made a move on him wasn't because he didn't fancy him, but because he didn't think Crowley reciprocated his feelings. For some insane reason, Aziraphale wasn't aware that he was as sexy as sin.
~Next Thursday~
Aziraphale dashed through the front door of the building, into the cloakroom, and then into the dance studio. He was almost five minutes late and felt rather flustered about it.
Everyone was already here - fourteen people, including himself, and the instructor on top of that – but everyone was just milling around. The class hadn't started yet, thank goodness.
Jamie was talking to a young couple in the corner, and Aziraphale quickly made his way over to them.
The moment Jamie saw Aziraphale his face lit up. "Azi! Great to see you! I was worried you weren't coming!"
Aziraphale couldn't help but startle at the new nickname he'd just been given. He much preferred his God-given name but it wasn't the first time a human had shortened his name and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He decided to ignore it. His favourite nickname would always be the pet-name Crowley had for him.
Aziraphale exchanged greetings with Jamie and the young couple, Teresa and Thomas. He'd spoken to the couple a few times before. They were here to learn how to dance for their upcoming wedding.
"Terribly sorry for my delay," Aziraphale said with an apologetic smile. "The taxi was late."
Jamie tilted his head. "Your mate in the weird car didn't drop you off then?"
"No, Crowley is picking me up," said Aziraphale.
Teresa looked intrigued. "Do you mean that vintage Bentley that was parked outside last week? Is that your friend's car?"
Aziraphale nodded. "Oh, yes. The Bentley is his pride and joy."
"It's beautiful," Teresa said, before turning towards Thomas. "It's similar to the car we've hired for our wedding, isn't it, honey?"
"Yeah," said Thomas. "Ours is a vintage Rolls Royce - a Phantom. Does your friend hire the Bentley out for weddings?"
Aziraphale chuckled. "Goodness, no. I don't think he'd allow anyone to drink champagne in his Bentley. I tried to eat shortbread in there once and he got all panicky about crumbs."
Jamie snorted.
Aziraphale glanced around the room. "I'm lucky the lesson didn't start without me!"
"I'm lucky too!" Jamie said. "There was an odd number of people so I'd have been stuck dancing with the instructor. Or taking it in turns with Mavis." Jamie pulled a face but then he smiled at Aziraphale. "I much prefer dancing with you, Azi."
Aziraphale smiled, glad that Jamie hadn't been put off by his rusty dancing skills.
"If we ever get to the dancing part," Jamie added, rolling his eyes.
"The CD player isn't working," Thomas explained, noticing Aziraphale's confusion. "They've been plugging it into different outlets but it hasn't helped by the looks of it."
Aziraphale spotted the instructor. She was stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at the CD player. A crowd of dancers had gathered around her, scratching their heads and trying to help.
"I'm sorry about this everyone," she said with a sigh, looking deeply embarrassed. "I'll call my husband and get him to bring in our CD player from home. In the meantime, I've got some music on my phone. If I put it on full volume- Oh!"
The music player had just burst into life, belting out one of Aziraphale's favourites by Tchaikovsky. A cheer went up around the room and Aziraphale smiled to himself.
Jamie held out his hand towards Aziraphale. "Care to dance?"
"Oh, goodness, yes," said Aziraphale, taking his hand. They started to practice the basic steps of the waltz, Jamie leading.
As they danced Aziraphale found himself thinking about Crowley's insistence that Jamie fancied him. An absurd idea. Jamie would certainly not be interested in someone like him. Jamie was young and charming, and would have no trouble finding a partner his own age. Besides, Aziraphale wasn't interested in bedding him. They had little in common - save for their fondness of the Waltz - and Jamie deserved to be with someone he could grow old with.
Aziraphale had experimented with humans in the past, but never anything serious or long term. He tried his best not to get too tangled up in the lives of humans. He had too much to hide, like the fact that he didn't age and was immortal.
Aziraphale loved Crowley and had hoped that they could have a romantic relationship now that they were free from their respective sides. There were times when he thought Crowley's feelings for him did run in that direction but it had been over a year and Crowley hadn't made any advances. Perhaps Crowley wasn't attracted to him after all. Aziraphale couldn't blame him for that. Crowley was shockingly beautiful, and Aziraphale was well aware of his own physical shortcomings. Aziraphale had spent millennia hearing comments about his body, mostly from Gabriel who had told him numerous times to lose weight.
But then he remembered Crowley's words in the car after picking him up last week. Dignified and elegant, he'd called him. Crowley had probably only said it to try to make him feel better, but the memory of it made Aziraphale feel giddy all the same. Crowley must love him in his own way, and this year had been the best of Aziraphale's life. He treasured every moment he'd spent with his dear friend.
He forced his mind back to the here and now, focussing on getting the dance moves right.
"I was in Soho on Sunday," Jamie said once they'd gotten a good rhythm going. "I think I saw your shop - A Z Fell, right? But it was closed."
"Oh, yes! I was working on some book restorations over the weekend so I had to close up."
"Your shop is gorgeous, by the way. Very fancy. From what I could see through the windows anyway."
"Thank you!"
"Do you really own it?"
"Oh, yes. It's been in the family since the 1800s," Aziraphale said, easily slipping into his human persona.
The dancing instructor was making her way around the room, assisting the other dancers, starting with the newest addition to the class – a couple who had recently retired. When the instructor reached Aziraphale and Jamie she said she was pleased with the box step they were performing, and helped correct the spin turns they'd been attempting. In Aziraphale's defence, it had taken him a little while to adjust to being led. He had been the one to lead when he danced with Mavis, but when a new set of people arrived they had ended up swapping partners. Jamie had asked to lead and Aziraphale hadn't minded following. Though, in hindsight, he felt he probably preferred leading.
They practiced spin turns a little longer - and even had a go at some underarm spins with guidance from the instructor. Aziraphale was quite enjoying himself as they moved in time to the bouncy music.
"You're getting good at this," Jamie said with a grin once the instructor had wandered off to help another couple.
"Why, thank you! Dancing has never come easy to me, but I believe I'm starting to get the hang of it. Thank you for being so patient with me."
"We should practice outside of lessons too. How about we go for a drink after class tonight? I know this club with an amazing dance floor."
"Oh. I'm terribly sorry but Crowley is picking me up."
"It seems silly him coming all the way out here when I can easily give you a lift home. Text him and tell him not to bother. I'll drive you home tonight, and I can take you home from the rest of the lessons too. It's no problem."
"That's very kind of you but we're going out for dinner tonight. Besides, I don't think clubs are my sort of thing. They play too much bebop."
"Next week then. We can practice at my place. Or I'll come to you – we could even dance among the bookcases of your shop!"
Aziraphale quite liked the idea of being able to practice his new skills with someone - practicing by himself just wasn't the same.
"Maybe during the day would be better? When it's brighter?" Aziraphale said thoughtfully. "How does Sunday sound?"
"I'll check my calendar when we've finished dancing, but I think I'm free."
"Splendid!"
The instructor turned the music down. "Can I have your attention everyone? I would like to teach you all a new dance move - the majority of you haven't tried this one yet. It's called 'the dip.' Maria and Hugo have kindly agreed to show you." She gestured to a young couple who were incredibly skilled and ahead of everyone else in the class.
Maria and Hugo started off doing the usual box steps and then suddenly Hugo was dipping Maria, supporting her with an arm behind her back. The instructor talked everyone through the steps, and Maria grinned, clearly enjoying the attention.
"Thank you Maria and Hugo. That was perfect. Remember, everyone - only as low as you feel comfortable."
Maria and Hugo took this opportunity to do another dip, but not as low this time.
"And there's no pressure," the instructor said. "Only try it if both you and your partner feel ready. I'll be walking around if anyone would like some assistance."
The music was turned up again.
"Ready?" asked Jamie.
Aziraphale nodded eagerly.
Crowley was waiting in the Bentley, reading an article about indoor gardening on his phone when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up and saw Aziraphale emerging from the dance studio. There was still five minutes before the end of the lesson, and no one else had left yet. Why was Aziraphale leaving early?
Aziraphale got into the car with a hunted expression. "You were right," Aziraphale said after a moment. "About Jamie."
"Oh dear," said Crowley. "What happened? Did he make overtures?"
"He kissed me."
Crowley's eyes widened.
"He dipped me, you see, and then-"
"Wha-?! What's dipping?!"
"It's a dance move, Crowley," Aziraphale said impatiently. "We were practicing dipping, and then – out of nowhere – he kissed me! I panicked and I struggled to get away and, well, he dropped me on the floor. Terribly embarrassing. I hope no one saw. I mean, I'm sure they all realised I'd taken a tumble, but I don't think anyone witnessed the kiss."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Aziraphale muttered. He started wringing his hands together. "It was a bit of a shock. I didn't know what to do, so I went to the cloakroom but he followed me. I thought he'd just gotten a bit carried away with the dancing, but he kept saying how great we'd be great together and how cute I am when I'm flustered. I told him I wasn't interested but he wouldn't listen and just kept trying to change my mind. And he called me a silver fox! What does that even mean?! I ended up telling him I already have a partner - it was the only way to make him stop."
"What an arsehole."
"Don't, Crowley! It's not his fault – I must have been giving off mixed signals. I feel terrible about the whole thing."
"None of this is your fault. Just saying 'no' should have been enough to make him shut up."
"Well. Yes. I just hope he's not too disappointed. I hope it won't be awkward next week."
Crowley stared at him. "You still want to dance with him?!"
"I want to dance," Aziraphale said with a determined look on his face. "He knows how I feel now so hopefully it'll all be water under the bridge by next week. But I probably shouldn't invite him over to the bookshop to practice. Thank goodness we didn't make concrete plans for Sunday! We didn't even choose a time."
"He probably won't even show up next week - now he knows he's not gonna get any."
"Get any what?" Aziraphale asked with a confused frown. "I hope he shows up! I need someone to dance with. I can't dance with Mavis. She dances with this new fellow who started at the same time as Jamie."
Crowley hoped this wasn't going to end with Aziraphale begging him to dance again, although if it meant saving him from Jamie then it'd be worth it.
"Oh! Quick! Let's go!" Aziraphale cried suddenly.
Jamie had just stepped out of the dance studio and was now marching across the car park.
The Bentley zoomed out of the parking space - making Aziraphale yelp and cling to the ceiling – and then they joined traffic on the main road.
In the rear view mirror Crowley could see Jamie getting into his car. Crowley grinned to himself, feeling as though he'd won somehow, and then feeling a bit pathetic for it.