Aziraphale stayed behind for a few minutes to make sure Susan was okay after her confrontation with Jamie. He'd been awfully rude to her, and she'd told him off like an angry headmistress, giving Peter the perfect opportunity to slip away unnoticed. Fortunately, Susan seemed unfazed by the whole ordeal and was glad when Aziraphale confirmed that Crowley would be returning next week.
After putting on his coat, Aziraphale stepped outside and looked towards the still parked Bentley. He expected to see Crowley sat in the driver's seat, but instead the demon was standing next to his car. Aziraphale's stomach flipped when he noticed that Jamie was stood next to him.
Aziraphale stepped off the curb at the same time that Crowley punched Jamie in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground.
"Crowley! No!" Aziraphale glanced back at the building but there was no one in sight. Susan must be in the back somewhere and all the other dancers had already left, driven or walked away. Good. No one saw.
Aziraphale raced towards Crowley and Jamie, desperate to stop things from escalating.
Crowley took a step back while Jamie got to his feet.
"Crowley!" Aziraphale shouted as he reached them. "What on earth do you think you're doing?!"
"He started it," Crowley said defensively.
"I didn't start anything!" Jamie shouted, touching his face where he'd been struck. "It was completely unprovoked! I didn't lay a finger on him! He's crazy!"
Aziraphale gave Crowley a stern look. "Whatever he did, that was entirely uncalled for."
"He keyed the Bentley! Right in front of me!"
Aziraphale glared at Jamie. "That was an incredibly childish thing to do."
The poor Bentley did indeed have a horrible scratch across the rear door.
"I'm sure we can fix the Bentley up as good as new in no time," Aziraphale said to Crowley meaningfully. "No harm done."
"There'll be plenty of harm done if he doesn't get out of my sight in the next two seconds," Crowley growled.
Jamie was shaking with anger, his hands bunched into fists. For a moment it looked like he might take a swing at Crowley, but then he seemed to think better of it. "You're both losers! I never fancied you anyway, Azi'! You're ugly and fat-!"
"Shut the fuck up!" Crowley screeched. He darted forward, and Aziraphale only just managed to grab hold of him in time.
Jamie stormed away across the car park.
"You'd better run away!" Crowley shouted as Jamie got into his car. "If I ever see you again you'll regret it!"
Crowley was shaking and breathing hard. After a moment, Aziraphale released him from his grip.
Crowley swallowed. "Don't listen to him, he doesn't know what he's talking about. He called me ugly and scrawny in the restaurant. Absolute prat."
"What a horrible man."
Crowley glared at Jamie's car as it screeched away. The exhaust fell off.
Aziraphale gave Crowley a disapproving look.
"It was practically falling off anyway." Crowley said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He turned his attention to the Bentley, a pained look on his face, and then he ran gentle fingers over the jagged scratch. When he pulled his hand away, the paint looked as good as new. "Now let's grab dinner."
Aziraphale nodded and they both got into the Bentley.
"By the way…" Crowley said as he settled into the driver's seat. "While Jamie was running away I implanted the idea in his head that he now hates ballroom dancing. Absolutely detests it. So there's no way he's going to conveniently forget he was banned and show up. He'll have no desire to come back."
Aziraphale sighed. "You know I don't like you meddling with human minds. It's terribly invasive."
"Yeah, well, if he wasn't such a psycho then I wouldn't have had to. Actually, I should have done it from the start." Crowley gave Aziraphale a sidelong look, a glint in his eye. "And you didn't seem to mind when I altered the memory of everyone at the restaurant."
"That was different."
"Or when we needed to get information out of that nun while we were looking for the Antichrist."
"Now, I definitely remember taking umbrage to that," Aziraphale argued. "Though I conceded that is was an unfortunate necessity at the time. For the greater good."
Crowley rolled his eyes.
Aziraphale straightened in his seat. "And I can't believe you punched Jamie! He's human, you could have seriously injured him."
"Humans are tougher than they look," Crowley said, sinking down in his seat guiltily.
"All the same…"
"Do you want Italian? Or how about that Mexican place around the corner?"
"Oh! Oh, let's go to that Mexican place. We've not been there in months."
"Righto," said Crowley, and the car pulled away from the curb.
The next week they went to dance class again, and as Crowley had promised, Jamie didn't attend.
To Aziraphale's delight, Crowley seemed far more relaxed and happy this time. His confidence had improved so much that towards the end of the lesson they even tried rotating while they did the box step. Aziraphale had a wonderful time, and Crowley seemed to enjoy himself too. Afterwards, they went out for dinner, and then back to the bookshop.
They'd been drinking together in the backroom for several hours.
Crowley started humming the Emperor Waltz by Johann Strauss - which they had heard that day during dance class - and Aziraphale joined in, humming along as he got to his feet. He danced over to the gramophone and then sorted through his collection of records. Soon the Emperor Waltz filled the air.
Crowley was on his feet in seconds. "Let's dance, angel!" he slurred.
Aziraphale chuckled. "You'll have to put your wine glass down first."
Crowley looked at the wineglass in his hand as though seeing it for the first time. He drank the last few drops in one gulp and then slammed it down on the table. "Let's do this. C'mon!"
Smiling brightly, Aziraphale took Crowley's hand in his own. Moments later, a warm hand slithered up to his shoulder.
They started to move, clumsy with drink and not at all in time with the music or each other. They accidently stepped on each other's feet several times and dissolved into fits of giggles. Once they'd achieved some sort of rhythm, they tried twirling around in circles but stopped when they bumped into the sofa.
"How's this compare to that dance you learnt before? You know. The whatsit… The garrotte."
"The gavotte," Aziraphale corrected him with a laugh. "No garrotting involved! At least I hope not!"
A mischievous look came into Crowley's eyes. His hand crept up from Aziraphale's shoulder to mimic grabbing his throat before quickly returning to its original position.
"You fiend!" Aziraphale said with a laugh.
Crowley grinned.
"I think the gavotte was easier to learn," Aziraphale said thoughtfully. "Although that might be because we took a rather relaxed view to it."
After all, Aziraphale had been rather tipsy by the time the dancing took place - along with the rest of the gentlemen at the club.
"Wha'? So you started me off with a difficult one? Bastard."
Aziraphale laughed.
"Teach me how to gavotte, angel."
"Oh, I don't think- It needs a whole entourage, really. It's not a two person dance… well, not exactly. We used to dance together in a row, with linked arms." Aziraphale hesitated. "But maybe we could try it, just the two of us."
Aziraphale moved to stand beside Crowley and then he hooked their arms together. "Like this. And then we just…" Aziraphale started to kick his legs up in the air, one and then the other, in time with the music.
Crowley joined in, kicking his legs enthusiastically. Aziraphale beamed, enjoying this immensely, and relishing the look of joy on Crowley's face as they danced.
Crowley turned to Aziraphale with a grin. "This is just the can-can!"
"It is not!" Aziraphale chided. "And we're supposed to move back and forth while we do it. Like this…" He took a few steps backwards, dragging Crowley with him, and then he skipped forwards again. "And then it ends with this." He swept his hands out before him dramatically. "Well actually, it ends with-" Aziraphale hurriedly cut himself off.
Crowley copied his actions, spreading out his arms and then wiggling his fingers. "This is just jazz hands."
"Oh, shush you."
"Wha's it actually end with?"
Aziraphale averted his eyes, his cheeks suddenly feeling hot. "Well," he said with an embarrassed laugh. "A kiss on the cheek."
Crowley's eyebrows shot up his face. "Oh, yeah? Lots of kissing going on in your 'men-only' Gentleman's club, was there?"
"…a little."
"Always on the cheek, was it?" Crowley asked with a devilish grin.
"In my case, yes. Though I grant you, there was a fair amount of tonsil-tennis going on elsewhere."
"I bet there was!" Crowley said with a roar of laughter. "What music did you listen to while you gavotted?"
Aziraphale leapt upon this change of subject. "Oh, all sorts. But Walter – our resident pianist – he liked to play 'I am a Courtier, Grave and Serious.' You know, from that opera."
"The Gondoliers? Yeah, I remember." Crowley's lip quirked. "How do the lyrics go?"
"I don't recall. Walter didn't tend to sing along."
"Do you have it for your gramophone?"
"I must do somewhere."
Aziraphale was about to release Crowley's arm in order to go rooting through his collection when he realised that he didn't need to, he could just use a miracle. He didn't need to ration his miracle use any more - he hadn't for over a year - but old habits die hard. Aziraphale could be as frivolous as he liked! After all, what could Gabriel do about it now?
Aziraphale blinked, and 'I am a Courtier, Grave and Serious' started to play. Aziraphale let out a delighted sound, feeling wonderfully naughty for his blatant disregard of Heavens rules.
They danced side-by-side with their arms linked, kicking up their legs as they skipped backwards, almost tripping over empty wine bottles.
When the lyrics got to the line, 'I am a courtier grave and serious, who is about to kiss your hand,' Crowley eagerly joined in, out of tune, and sang instead: "Who's about to kiss your cheek!"
They bounded forwards and backwards a few more times, and then - still with their arms linked together - Crowley thrust out his hands, waving his fingers vigorously, and then he turned towards Aziraphale with a hopeful look on his face.
Aziraphale's stomach fluttered at the sight of him, his golden eyes shining in the lamplight. He looked so beautiful, his mouth close enough to kiss. Heart pounding, Aziraphale leant forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. It felt incredibly bold and daring.
Crowley moved closer and kissed him back, lips soft against Aziraphale's cheek.
They skipped backwards, Aziraphale feeling lightheaded, and then they charged forwards again and Aziraphale thrust out his arms in front of him, eager to get to the next part. He turned his face towards Crowley and was greeted with a kiss on the mouth.
Aziraphale couldn't believe it. Crowley was kissing him, his warm lips moving against his own. Nothing could have prepared him for the reality of this moment.
It was over far too soon. Crowley drew back, a nervous look on his face.
Aziraphale lunged forward, moving on instinct and pressing their lips together again. Crowley gasped, and then he was kissing him back eagerly, and before long their kisses were open-mouthed, wet and hungry. Aziraphale's hands tangled in Crowley's hair, pulling him close. They stumbled, and Aziraphale pushed Crowley up against a bookcase.
Their bodies were pressed together, and Aziraphale could feel the bulge in Crowley's trousers pressed against his leg. Crowley was hard already. Hard for him. The very idea of it sent waves of arousal washing through him.
Aziraphale shifted so that their bulges were together and then he rocked his hips, drawing a broken sound from Crowley who was clinging to him.
Aziraphale opened his eyes and then pulled back to get a better look at Crowley. His lips were parted, his hair dishevelled, and he was gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes, drunk with desire, drunk with… well, alcohol.
They really were quite drunk, weren't they?
Crowley rocked his hips again and tried to pull him in for another kiss.
Aziraphale resisted. He had to. He took a step back.
Crowley was looking at him, his pupils blown wide, his lips kiss bruised. He looked so thoroughly debauched that it took all of Aziraphale's resolve not to pounce on him again. Instead he squeezed his eyes closed. "W- We've had rather a lot to drink," he said, and then he sobered himself up.
"Yeah. Lemme just…" Crowley's eyes scrunched up, and then he briefly pulled a face like he'd just eaten an extra sour lemon.
They were both sober.
Crowley looked as tense as Aziraphale felt, staring at him with big worried eyes.
Heat prickled across Aziraphale's cheeks. He felt horribly self-aware and awkward suddenly. He forced his hands to his sides and took a deep breath. "If it was just the drink, I understand."
Aziraphale had to give Crowley an out. Maybe he hadn't fully understood what he was doing, maybe he hadn't meant to do it. But for all of Aziraphale's worries, a fragile hope still filled his chest.
"It wasn't the drink," Crowley said, his voice shaking. "I've wanted to do that for a very long time."
"Oh. Oh, really?" Aziraphale said, heart racing. He took a step closer. "So have I."
Crowley's face lit up, and then he reached out and took one of Aziraphale's hands in his own.
"I- I didn't think you liked me in that way," Aziraphale said.
"Course I do, angel. You're gorgeous. I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner. I wasn't sure if you felt the same and I didn't want to mess it up. I love you."
Aziraphale trembled, his chest tight with emotion. He swallowed thickly, utterly overwhelmed. "I love you."
Crowley squeezed his hand. "You've no idea how much I've wanted to hear you say that."
"Can I kiss you?"
"Of course you can bloody kiss me. C'mere!"
Crowley pulled him close and pressed their mouths together. Aziraphale instantly melted into it. The kiss was slow and hesitant at first - this was still new for the both of them - but the kiss deepened as their confidence grew, until they were kissing as enthusiastically and as hungrily as they had been while drunk.
Crowley laughed against Aziraphale's mouth, a carefree and delighted sound, and then he wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's shoulders. They swayed together in time with the music, Aziraphale's hands holding onto Crowley's waist, holding him close.
"We're slow dancing," Crowley said after a moment, amusement in his voice. He kissed the corner of Aziraphale's mouth. "You're teaching me so many new dances."
"And you're wonderful at all of them."
Moments later, they were waltzing around the room, holding each other closer than ever before while performing this dance, and every now and then they would kiss or lay their head against the other's shoulder. Aziraphale felt so happy he could cry.
Soon enough they were slow dancing again, neither of them noticing that the music had finished long ago.
Authors Note:
In the TV show, the song that plays during Aziraphale's gavotte is 'I am a Courtier, Grave and Serious' from the Opera The Gondoliers by Gilbert and Sullivan. When I saw those lyrics I couldn't believe how fitting it was!