Author's Note: Content Warning for brief physical violence and unwanted touching.

Aziraphale was in his bookshop, carefully reorganising a bookcase while humming cheerfully to himself. Crowley would be coming to whisk him away for lunch soon and he'd been looking forward to it all morning.

Several days had passed since their first kiss, and they'd been inseparable ever since - up until this morning when Crowley had gone back to his flat to water his plants and check his post. Aziraphale had left the door unlocked for him, making sure that the sign in the window read 'closed' in order to deter any prospective customers.

When the door finally opened Aziraphale raced to the front of the shop eagerly, but his smile fell away when he saw Jamie stood by the now closed door.

Not this nonsense again. The last time he'd seen Jamie was when he'd scratched the Bentley with his car keys, and Aziraphale had hoped that they'd never cross paths again.

"What the devil are you doing here?" said Aziraphale.

"It's a shop, isn't it? Maybe I wanted to buy a book," Jamie snapped.

"Didn't you see the sign? We're closed!"

"Shouldn't have left the door unlocked then."

Aziraphale put his hands on his hips. "I have no patience for your shenanigans! You're not welcome here. Go away!"

"My boyfriend won't talk to me anymore and it's your fault! He's threatening to get a restraining order! And my best mate took his side!"

"Well, they sound like very sensible people."

"This wouldn't have happened if it weren't for you! You made me snap at Peter when we were at dance class. You've ruined my life!"

"You're wholly responsible for your own actions. Now get out."

Jamie jutted his chin forward. "I bet you're alone in here. I saw your stupid poser boyfriend leaving in his stupid poser car."

"Of course there's no one here. Because the shop is closed! Now go away!" Aziraphale pointed angrily at the door.

"I bet he's a gold digger. I bet that's why he's with you. You're old enough to be his-"

"Shut up!" Aziraphale roared. He started towards Jamie, burning with fury, fully prepared to grab him and push him outside, but Jamie turned towards the door himself and for a moment Aziraphale thought he was about to storm out. Instead, he locked the door.

"What are you doing?" Aziraphale said.

"I'm going to make you pay! I'm going to make you wish you never messed with me!" Jamie's eyes were wild and manic, his mouth twisted into a horrible grin. "This is your own fault."

Jamie closed the gap between them in a heartbeat and struck Aziraphale hard across the face. Aziraphale drew in a sharp breath, face stinging as he found himself being shoved backwards against the wall. Aziraphale tried to push Jamie away but he was stronger than he looked, easily catching one of Aziraphale's wrists in a vice-like grip.

"Stop it!" Aziraphale shouted, and then let out a shocked cry when Jamie attempted to crush their mouths together. Spluttering, Aziraphale turned his face away but Jamie yanked at his hair, trying to make him turn back.

A hand went down to Aziraphale's belt, making it all too clear exactly what Jamie intended to do.

Aziraphale was revolted by his touch, he felt humiliated, but most of all he felt furious – because if Jamie was willing to do this to him then he'd be willing to do this to a defenceless human.

Aziraphale was not defenceless.

A blinding white light filled the room as Aziraphale's divinity burst free, white wings expanding above him with a deafening boom. His clothes morphed into white robes while his skin became iridescent, glowing with a cold white light. His halo – made of countless spinning, screeching rings - burned so fiercely that the air around them sizzled. He was surrounded by countless floating eyes which darted this way and that before focusing on the lone human in the room.

Jamie had been thrown to the floor with the force of the transformation. He was sprawled on his back, winded, and no doubt feeling as though he'd just been caught in an explosion. He stared up at Aziraphale - Principality, Guardian of the Eastern gate - and his mouth opened in a silent scream.

Aziraphale knew that to mortal eyes he looked hideous and unnatural - a truly dangerous and inhuman thing.

Jamie made a choking sound, tears streaming down his face as he stared up at the angel towering over him. All at once, he seemed to regain control of his limbs and started to crawl backwards with jerky movements, his shoes skidding on the carpet, desperate to get away.

But Aziraphale wasn't done with him.

Jamie let out a sob as his body froze, paralysed by divine power.

"I should smite you where you lay, you worthless creature! I should cast you into the bowels of Hell," Aziraphale yelled, his voice loud and echoing around the room. "How dare you. How you dare you!"

Angels were not allowed to show their angelic forms to humans. Not because it would frighten them – oh, no, Heaven didn't care if some human were traumatised – but because it was cheating. Being given evidence of the divine took away a certain level of choice. Humans were supposed to believe, not know. But Aziraphale didn't care. This wasn't about trying to save Jamie's soul, this was about making sure that he never hurt anyone ever again.

"Did you hurt Peter? Did you touch him?"

If he had, Aziraphale would never forgive himself. He should have realised long before now just how dangerous Jamie was. He should have asked Crowley to make Jamie keep away from Peter instead of just putting him off ballroom dancing. In fact, Aziraphale should have done something himself instead of leaving it all up to Crowley.

"N- N- No," Jamie sobbed.

Aziraphale could tell that Jamie was telling the truth, could see it in the thoughts running behind his eyes. Jamie had hounded the poor boy, sent him countless messages, but he'd not laid a finger on him. Jamie had foolishly believed that he was still in with a chance of winning Peter back - up until a few hours ago when he'd received a message threatening a restraining order.

"You will not go near Peter or talk to him ever again," Aziraphale stated - a command which couldn't be ignored.

Jamie nodded, tears and snot running down his face.

Aziraphale's many floating eyes moved closer to Jamie, whose own wide eyes darted from one to the next in horror.

"My many eyes will watch you for the rest of your existence. They will follow you, unseen. If you try to hurt another living soul, I will smite you – I will destroy you! Do you understand?"

Jamie nodded.

"Do you understand?!"

"Yes! Yes, I'm sorry! I promise I'll never-"

"Then get the fuck out of my bookshop!"

Aziraphale released his paralysing hold on Jamie's body, and - limbs now able to move - Jamie scrambled to his feet on unsteady legs and then staggered over to the door. He spent a panicked few seconds trying to wrench the door open before remembering that he'd locked it himself. He turned the key with a shaking hand, threw open the door and then fled into the outside world.

The holy light faded and Aziraphale's wings retracted as he slowly lowered himself back to the ground, the last of his floating eyeballs vanishing from view.

The eyes were attached to his angelic form and therefore couldn't leave in order to follow Jamie around as Aziraphale had threatened, but Jamie didn't know that. Aziraphale knew that he'd frightened Jamie enough to stop him from ever attacking another living soul ever again.

Crowley tried to open the door to the bookshop but found it locked. He could have sworn Aziraphale had said he'd leave the door open for him. Oh well, he must have changed his mind. He considered knocking, but Aziraphale was expecting him after all, so with a wave of his hand the door unlocked. Crowley sauntered inside and then he froze.

There were books scattered across the floor with creased pages, and a table lamp lay on its side among them. The circular rug had been pulled back revealing a chalked circle on the floorboards surrounded by neatly written passages from the Cabala.

It was a communication circle to Heaven.

Aziraphale was sat on the floor with his back to the desk. His knees were drawn up to his chest and his arms were wrapped tightly around them. Crowley couldn't see his face, pressed as it was against his knees.

Crowley's stomach clenched, heart racing. "Angel? What happened?"

Aziraphale flinched and looked up, seeming to have only just noticed he was there. He hurriedly dried his eyes on his sleeve.

Crowley looked again at the chalk circle and for a horrible moment thought that Heaven had contacted Aziraphale - but no, the rug must have been drawn back by Aziraphale himself, and there was a box of candles next to him which he would need if he wanted to activate the circle.

"I'm okay," Aziraphale reassured him.

Warily, Crowley walked around the circle and then dropped down to his knees beside Aziraphale. "You wanted to talk to Heaven?"

"I thought I did," Aziraphale said in a shaky voice. "I was going to. I wanted to explain. I did something I shouldn't have." Aziraphale swallowed. "I- I revealed my true form to a human."

Crowley's mouth fell open, but he quickly forced his face back to something calm. "That's okay, angel. It doesn't matter."

"I thought they might send someone to tell me off…"

"No. They won't do that. They're scared of you now, remember? They're scared of both of us."

Aziraphale hesitated for a moment and then he nodded. He shifted towards Crowley who pulled him into a hug.

Crowley wondered what had happened. Perhaps Aziraphale had left the door unlocked after all and a human didn't read the sign and came into the shop while Aziraphale was in his true form.

"Were you able to erase their memory? It's okay if not. I'll find them. I'll deal with it."

"It was Jamie."

"That fucker!"

"He came in here, and he was terribly angry, and he wouldn't leave. I rather lost my temper."

"I'm not surprised. Did you erase his memory afterwards?"

Aziraphale let out a bitter laugh. "No, I didn't. I want him to remember every terrifying moment it, everything I said."

"Wow. He really pissed you off, huh?"

Aziraphale swallowed. He looked Crowley in the eye and then let out a shaky breath. "He pinned me to the wall and tried to kiss me. He wouldn't stop so I made him stop."

Crowley's eyes bulged, a wild and protective fury overwhelming him. "I'll kill him! I'll fucking kill the bastard!"

"No, you won't." Aziraphale said firmly. "I've dealt with him. I've scared the living daylights out of him. He won't do that to anyone ever again - he wouldn't dare." Aziraphale's lip pulled into a half-smile. "He thinks my eyes are going to follow him around for the rest of his life. I've put the fear of God into him."

"Sounds like you've put the fear of Aziraphale into him," Crowley said. He took Aziraphale's hand and squeezed it. "Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted. Shaken. Like I could do with a good cup of tea."

"I'll put the kettle on," Crowley said urgently. "But first of all, let's get you somewhere more comfortable."

Gently, Crowley helped Aziraphale to his feet, and as they headed towards the back room he kicked the rug back into place and picked up the fallen books and the table lamp.

"I think I knocked them over when my wings popped out," Aziraphale said while Crowley fixed the creased pages with a quick demonic miracle.

Crowley shepherded Aziraphale into the backroom and then got him settled into his armchair.

"Will you be okay while I make the tea?" Crowley asked.

Aziraphale smiled, suddenly looking much more himself. "Yes. Thank you. Could you bring the shortbreads? They're in the same cupboard as the tea."

"Of course," Crowley said, and then he was in the kitchenette putting the kettle on and rooting through the cupboards.

When he returned to the backroom he noticed that Aziraphale had moved from his armchair and was now sat on the sofa. Crowley sat down beside him and pulled him into a hug.

Crowley leant back in his chair, a smile on his face and a glass of wine in his hand. He was sat at a large circular table – one of many which surrounded a ballroom dance-floor.

The dance studio held a ball every four months - three a year – and Crowley and Aziraphale had been to every single one since they started dancing together. This was their ninth. There was always a three course meal and afterwards they would dance the night away.

Crowley smiled as he watched Aziraphale waltzing with Mavis in the centre of the room, surrounded by several other dancing couples. Mavis's usual partner – an older gentleman - was sat with a man of a similar age, the two of them laughing over pints of beer. The other man's wife was sat beside them, merrily polishing off a slice of blueberry cheesecake.

Crowley and Aziraphale had been unable to hide the change in their relationship, and more to the point, they hadn't wanted to hide it. Mavis – with the bluntness of the elder generation – had caught Crowley on his own as soon as she'd realised that they were an item, expressing her concern about the age gap and warning Crowley not to 'string Aziraphale along and break the poor dears heart.' Crowley had reassured her that he was older than he looked, and more to the point, he would never do anything to hurt Aziraphale.

If only he could have told her that they were exactly the same age – not to mention older than everyone else in the room.

It had been three years since Crowley had first joined the dance classes, and several of the original couples still attended every week. Teresa and Thomas - who had only joined in order to put together a routine for the first dance at their wedding – had enjoyed the lessons so much that they had continued to attend even after their wedding had been and gone. They were currently on their way back from the dance floor. Teresa sat down next to Crowley while her husband stood beside them.

"I'm heading to the bar," said Thomas. "Can I get you anything, Crowley?"

"Nah, I'm good, thanks."

Once Thomas had gone, Teresa leant close and lowered her voice. "You won't believe who I saw when I picked up my granny from church last week."

Crowley cocked an eyebrow.

"It was Jamie! Do you remember him?"

Of course he remembered the man that tried to force himself on Aziraphale - not that Teresa knew what had happened that day. "Yeah, I remember that asshole. Found God has he?"

"Yeah! Never imagined he'd be the religious type! He's super into it. Told me I need to start praying for my soul. He insisted that Heaven and Hell are real and God is vengeful and we should all be afraid. He's lost the plot. Oh, sorry," she added awkwardly. "You're not religious are you?"

Crowley couldn't help but laugh. "Religion isn't for me."

"Me neither."

Thomas returned soon after with two drinks and settled down next to Teresa.

Mavis, looking happy but exhausted, returned to her seat - beside the lady who had just finished her cheesecake – and Aziraphale came over to Crowley with a hopeful look on his face. Before Aziraphale had even said a word, Crowley was downing the last of his wine and standing up. He took Aziraphale by the hand and led him to the dance floor.

For all of their practicing, they couldn't be described as anything other than amateur, but they enjoyed themselves all the same and that was all that really mattered. Dancing might not be in their nature but they had both broken their moulds long ago.

They danced around the room, Aziraphale leading, following a routine they had put together themselves. Crowley spun under Aziraphale's raised hand, and then they did their final move.

Crowley let himself fall backwards and was caught in Aziraphale's strong arms. Crowley gazed up at his angel, overwhelmed with love and adoration, and then Aziraphale leant down and kissed him on the mouth. Crowley kissed him back, melting into it, and before he knew it Aziraphale was lifting him upright into a hug.

By the end of the night - once suitably sozzled - Crowley, Aziraphale, Teresa and Thomas all linked arms and broke into the Gavotte.

End