Aziraphale clung to the wall with his eyes closed as the man on the other side did things with his tongue that left him weak at the knees. Aziraphale pressed his face against his arm, trying to stifle his moans and keep himself quiet.
That wonderful mouth suddenly left him and Aziraphale trembled in place, desperate for its return. He could still feel heavy breaths against his wet cock. The sudden lack of touch made him press harder against the glory hole, as though he might somehow find the wet warmth again if he tried hard enough. He waited desperately for a mouth - or a hand - to touch him again but he felt nothing.
He was just wondering if the man wanted to swap back again when a voice cut through the silence.
"D'you want to put it in me? From behind?"
Aziraphale froze. The voice came low and sultry, slightly masking the owner's identity, but Aziraphale would know that voice anywhere. He refused to believe it. Maybe this man just sounded like him.
"I'm ready. I've got a condom if you want it. But it's up to you."
Aziraphale felt lightheaded. It was him. It was definitely Crowley. There was no denying it.
Mortified, Aziraphale yanked himself out of the glory hole. His face burned. He moved as far away from the hole as he could get in the small cubicle, terrified that Crowley would peek through and see him.
"Sorry!" said Crowley. "We can go back to what we were doing."
Aziraphale was immediately reminded of exactly what they'd been doing and exactly what they'd already done to each other.
Shame grew sharp in his chest as he looked down at himself, glistening with Crowley's spit. His cock was still desperately hard - eager to accept Crowley's offer, the treacherous thing. Aziraphale had trouble forcing himself back into his trousers. He zipped up his fly.
"Sorry!" Crowley hissed, desperation in his voice. "Don't go. I'll be quiet!"
The guilt was overwhelming. Crowley was blaming himself – he didn't know why he was being rejected. Aziraphale wanted to explain but how could he? It was all too much suddenly, he needed to get away.
Aziraphale unlocked the door with shaking hands and then ran away as though his life depended on it. He felt exposed and vulnerable, scared that Crowley would come after him.
The path from the toilet block led down to the centre of the park but Aziraphale raced up the slight incline instead, vanishing into the trees at the edge of the park and hiding behind a large oak. He expected Crowley to emerge at any moment and look towards the path, scanning the people walking in the distance. If Aziraphale had been among them then the game would be up and Crowley would know the truth.
Agonising minutes later, the door to the Gents creaked open, and then footsteps could be heard on the gravel path walking away.
Once the footsteps were faint enough, Aziraphale chanced a peek from behind the tree, needing to know for sure.
In the distance, walking across the grass with his head down and his hands in his pockets, was Crowley. Aziraphale would know that hairstyle and that walk anywhere. There was no doubt left in Aziraphale's mind - they had accidently fellated each other in a public lavatory. Twice.
He hid behind the tree again, squeezed his eyes closed and covered his mouth with his hands.
All those millennia spent resisting Crowley, being strong, being good, protecting them both, and it had ended like this.
All the fantasies he'd had, all the times he'd imagined what it would be like to kiss him, to touch him, to watch him unravel under his hands. He'd thought so often about what their first time would be like. He'd imagined it being frantic, clumsy and desperate, all of their flirting and their pent up desires cumulating into something wonderful, loving and forbidden. That's how he'd always pictured it. Not in a public lavatory where they didn't even know the gravity of what they were doing.
He knew his fantasy could never come true – he would never give into that temptation - but that wasn't the point, it still felt stolen from him.
How had he not known? The red hair, the dextrous tongue. He should have known! And he should have checked, let his powers surface long enough to search for a demonic presence nearby. But no, he'd kept his powers hidden, scared of being found out, wanting to stay off any supernatural radars. Crowley must have done the same.
Why did Crowley come here? Why did he use this glory hole? Aziraphale refused to even entertain the idea that Crowley had followed him or tricked him. Crowley might be a demon but he would never take advantage of him like that, he would never do anything to hurt him. Aziraphale trusted him completely.
Had Crowley wanted anonymous sex just like him? Had it been nothing more than a bit of fun for him?
Or was this an assignment from Hell? The realisation that Crowley might have been forced into this, forced to allow countless humans to sate their lust with his body in a ridiculous attempt to make them sin made Aziraphale feel sick. Especially because it would mean he'd just inadvertently abused Crowley himself. It was too horrible. It couldn't be true. Could it? Aziraphale was well aware that Crowley kept most of the awful things Hell made him do a secret, but surely they would never make him do something that awful?
Aziraphale forced himself to calm down. From what Crowley had told him, the assignments given by Hell were always vague enough that he could come up with his own schemes and ideas, preferring to play the humans against each other rather than getting involved himself. Crowley even claimed the credit for things done by humans which he'd had nothing to do with. Hell wouldn't give him a specific task – they didn't have the imagination for it - they'd just tell him to make some humans give in to lust, and then leave the 'how' up to him. Crowley would probably just plan a few orgies, and then sit back at home watching television while all the sex happened elsewhere. If he joined in it would be because he wanted to. If he made a habit of visiting glory holes it was because he wanted to. Aziraphale was sure of it. He'd certainly seemed to be enjoying himself.
Having reassured himself, Aziraphale crept away from the trees and headed in the opposite direction to where Crowley had been going. As he passed the lavatory block he remembered with a jolt that he had left his cushion behind and hoped that Crowley hadn't noticed it. With a quick miracle, the cushion vanished.
There was another gate at the far side of the park and it wouldn't add much time to his walk home so he aimed for that. He kept looking around furtively as he walked through the park, still scared of getting caught, and it was only when he was several streets away that he allowed his powers to fully resurface. He reached out with his mind and found that Crowley was already several miles away, moving at speed, no doubt in the Bentley. So there was no risk of bumping into him.
Aziraphale kept his head down as he walked. All he wanted to do was to hide away in his shop, alone where no one could see him. It felt as though everyone was looking at him. Tears prickled at his eyes, but he forced himself to hold them back, to not draw attention to himself, but the walk seemed longer and more exhausting than ever before.
The whole time his head was spinning. He felt overwhelmed, and he couldn't stop himself from going over everything that had happened, again and again.
Maybe he should he have said something to Crowley instead of just running away and leaving him confused and abandoned. But what could he have said? 'Oh, Crowley, fancy bumping into you here! It's me, Aziraphale!'
Utterly absurd.
It was a relief when he turned onto his street and saw the safe haven of his bookshop in the far distance. But then he stopped in his tracks. The Bentley was parked outside of the bookshop, and Crowley seemed to have given up on knocking on the door and was now peering through the window to see if he was home.
Aziraphale didn't want to talk to him. He couldn't, it was too much. He was just about to dash into the nearest shop to hide when Crowley spotted him and gave him a little wave.
Aziraphale forced a smile and waved back. Crowley looked so pleased to see him that it broke Aziraphale's heart. He really wasn't in any fit state to entertain guests, least of all Crowley. He had to get rid of him.
"Hi, angel," Crowley said. "D'ya wanna go out for lunch?"
"Oh. Er. Sorry. I've already eaten."
"Oh," said Crowley, and he looked so disappointed that Aziraphale's guilt levels intensified. He'd already rejected the poor boy once, he couldn't turn him away now.
Aziraphale found himself surrendering. "You can come in for a spot of tea if you like? I'm sure I can rustle something up if you're hungry."
"Thanks, angel." said Crowley, but then he frowned. "Are you okay? You seem a bit on edge."
"What? I'm fine. Absolutely tip top." Aziraphale turned away and unlocked the door with fingers that wouldn't stop shaking.
Once they were both inside and Aziraphale had locked the door behind him he suddenly became hyper aware of the fact that they were alone together, just the two of them. Crowley was chattering about something he'd heard on the radio, and Aziraphale found himself staring at those lips, remembering what they'd done to him. His cheeks prickled with heat as he marched ahead, leading the way to the kitchenette at the back of the building. Inviting Crowley in had been a mistake, but it was too late to change his mind now.
"Would you like biscuits?" Aziraphale said as they entered the kitchenette. "Or something more substantial? Cucumber sandwiches?"
"Tea and biscuits sounds perfect, angel," Crowley said, leaning against the counter.
Aziraphale started busying himself with the kettle.
"I'll get the milk," Crowley said, turning towards the fridge.
"Oh, yes, thank you- Oh, blast!"
Aziraphale had just dropped a teaspoon onto the floor, and Crowley – ever helpful – bent down to pick it up. His shirt rode up and Aziraphale found himself presented with a small round bottom wrapped in too-tight trousers.
Crowley's words came back to Aziraphale. 'D'you want to put it in me? From behind?'
Aziraphale turned away. He gripped the edge of the counter, closing his eyes tightly. He reminded himself that those words had not been meant for him, not really.
Crowley placed the teaspoon on the counter. "What's wrong? You can always talk to me, you know. If you want to."
"I'm sorry."
Aziraphale took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. He needed to tell him. Crowley had a right to know. It would be wrong to keep it from him, and besides, the secret was clawing at him, desperate to escape. Perhaps it was selfish to share this burden but Crowley already knew something was wrong. It felt as though everything had changed between them. They needed to put a safe distance between each other - it was the only way to protect themselves from their superiors. They'd become too close, and Aziraphale's feelings had become too strong. They were supposed to be enemies. Crowley needed to know what had happened, because he needed to know why nothing could ever be the same again.
Aziraphale was trembling, and when Crowley reached out to touch his arm and reassure him, it made him flinch and draw away.
"I- I need to tell you something," Aziraphale blurted out, trying to find the right words. "I think we should both sit down for this."
Crowley's face fell, and Aziraphale looked away. He walked out of the kitchenette and into the backroom, Crowley following close behind.
Crowley was sat on the sofa, his foot tapping nervously. Aziraphale stood in front of him, wringing his hands and refusing to look at him. The kettle clicked as it finished boiling in the kitchenette.
Aziraphale turned towards the door with wide eyes. "Oh, the tea… I forgot about the tea."
"Don't worry about the tea," Crowley said, trying to keep his voice calm. "Please, just tell me what's wrong."
Aziraphale sat down heavily in his arm chair and started to fiddle with the cushions. His hands were visibly shaking. Crowley couldn't stand it.
Crowley suspected that Aziraphale must have been on his way back from a meeting upstairs. He often felt miserable and run down after a meeting with Gabriel but Crowley had never seen him this worked up.
"Have you been upstairs? Did Gabriel say something stupid? He's a prick. He doesn't know what he's talking about."
"What? No. I wasn't upstairs. I wasn't- Gabriel has nothing to do with this."
"So where were you?" Crowley asked impatiently, feeling more anxious by the second.
Aziraphale's lip trembled. Something seemed to break inside of him and then words came tumbling out. "Evergreen Park," he said in a cracked voice. "I'm so sorry! I swear I didn't know you were there!"
The breath caught in Crowley's throat. He felt nauseous and dizzy. Aziraphale must have walked into the Gents while he was asking his man to have anal sex with him and recognised his voice. Crowley had been so sure they were alone, but Aziraphale's presence must have been what scared the man away. Crowley's cheeks were red with humiliation as he opened his mouth to try to defend himself but no sound came out.
"I'm so sorry," Aziraphale continued, and to Crowley's surprise it sounded like he was trying not to cry. "I shouldn't have been there. I was just so lonely. And I… I shouldn't have run away like that, but I didn't know what else to do. I never meant for any of this to happen! I didn't know you were in there! I swear!"
No. It couldn't be true. Crowley stared at Aziraphale in disbelief. "It- It was you?"
"Yes." Aziraphale put his head in his hands.
"Next door? In the other cubicle?"
"Yes."
Crowley's mouth felt dry. "But…"
Crowley couldn't get his head around it. Aziraphale wasn't the sort of person who went to glory holes. Was he? But then he thought of the tartan cushion, and the blond-white curls around the man's cock. The man's moans had reminded him of Aziraphale because it had been Aziraphale the entire fucking time.
They'd sucked each other's cocks. He could still taste him in his mouth.
Crowley leapt to his feet, finding himself pacing while Aziraphale seemed to curl in on himself. Crowley resisted the urge to run away.
"Last Sunday?" asked Crowley.
Aziraphale stammered his way through an affirmative.
Feeling faint, Crowley all but collapsed back onto the sofa. Less than an hour ago he'd asked Aziraphale if he wanted to fuck him up the arse. He'd said that to Aziraphale.
It felt like his face was on fire. "But… Why did you go there?" He hadn't meant it to sound so accusatory, he just felt so confused. Crowley knew that Aziraphale occasionally slept with humans, but he'd never thought he'd make use of a glory hole. That was Crowley's only excuse for not realising it was him.
It was the wrong thing to say.
Aziraphale looked up at him, eyes ablaze. "This isn't my fault! I have my own reasons – good reasons! And it's none of your business why I decided- It's none of your business!"
"You're right, you're right! I'm sorry. I didn't mean- I'm just surprised, that's all."
"What's your excuse anyway?" Aziraphale snapped. "Is this another one of your stupid schemes to tempt humans?"
"Stupid-?! My schemes are not stupid! And this wasn't work related! I did it because I wanted to! Because it's fun! I don't need an excuse, and neither do you!"
Aziraphale lowered his head. "I- Yes. You're right. You don't need an excuse. This is my fault! I'm an angel – of course you wouldn't expect to find me there! I should never have gone."
"You didn't do anything wrong. This is no one's fault, this is just something that can happen with… with anonymous stuff."
Aziraphale stared at the floor. "I- I did it because I thought it would be safer," he said, clearly feeling the need to explain himself. "No risk of growing attached to any humans. Or them growing attached to me. You know how it is with humans."
Crowley did know. They both struggled with becoming too fond of the humans around them. Human lives were so short, and Crowley always ended up having to cut ties with them anyway because he didn't age. He'd pretended to be his own son and grandson too many times to count. He understood now why Aziraphale had thought anonymous sex was his best option.
Aziraphale looked up, his eyes slightly red around the edges, but he seemed intrigued. "Was that your reason too? Not that you need a reason, of course."
Crowley hesitated. He could say yes. It wasn't a particularly demonic thing to admit to but Aziraphale already knew how fond he'd become of numerous humans over the years. It might even be the truth if it weren't for the actual reason he did it.
"To be honest… it's the eyes," Crowley said. "It's easier to hide them with a wall in the way."
Aziraphale frowned. "But I thought you could use your powers to stop people from noticing your eyes?"
Crowley shrugged. Aziraphale was right, that was how he'd done it before spectacles were invented. "Thing is, it takes a certain amount of concentration to maintain the illusion, and I struggle when I'm… otherwise distracted. So keeping myself hidden is a necessity."
"Oh," said Aziraphale quietly. "Have you tried coloured contact lenses? They're a new invention I heard about."
Crowley smiled. He had, though they were not as new as Aziraphale seemed to think. He'd first learnt about coloured contact lenses while chatting to an actor who had played Dracula in a film in the late 1950s. The man had needed to wear contact lenses with a bloodshot effect that covered the entire eye, and he'd complained to Crowley (and anyone who would listen, it seemed) that they had been uncomfortable and impaired his vision. This put Crowley off trying them for himself but perhaps it would be worth finding out if coloured contact lenses had improved at all since then. Though he still didn't like the idea of poking something into his eyes.
"I haven't tried them, but I've heard they're kinda uncomfortable. Besides, er…" Crowley stopped, his heart racing. He hadn't intended to share this next part, but he found himself soldiering on anyway. "I've got scales. Serpent scales. On my chest, back and arms. They don't go away, just like the eyes. They're on my feet too, did you know about the feet?"
Aziraphale shook his head.
Crowley stared down at his hands, clasped in his lap. "Oh, I thought you might have noticed in Eden."
That was before he'd learnt to feel self-conscious about his scales and eyes. He'd actually been rather fond of his eyes at the beginning, before realising that he needed to hide them. He enjoyed being able to see in the dark.
"I imagine humans would be rather surprised," said Aziraphale.
Crowley snorted. "That's an understatement."
"Is that why you always have your arms covered?"
Crowley shrugged. He could hear the pity in Aziraphale's voice, and he hated it. "It's no big deal. I can pass for human way easier than most demons so I'm lucky really. Shall we get that cup of tea?"
"Oh." Aziraphale looked uncomfortable. "I really ought to be getting on, to be honest. Terribly sorry. I've a lot of paperwork for Heaven that I need to get finished."
"Oh. Okay. No problem."
Crowley knew excuses when he heard them, but he didn't blame Aziraphale for wanting some time to himself. They both had a lot to process, and Crowley still hadn't fully gotten his head around all that had happened yet. He needed time to think.
Crowley got to his feet. "I'll see you Wednesday then, yeah? I'll pick you up."
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"I'll meet you at the restaurant then?"
Aziraphale stared at the floor. "I think we need some time apart."
Crowley's chest felt tight. "What? Why?"
"We need to keep things professional. We've become far too familiar with each other. We should only see each other when we need to. When it's strictly necessary. For work. For the arrangement. I don't think you should come to the bookshop anymore."
No. he couldn't go back to only seeing Aziraphale once in a blue moon like they used to, not seeing each other for centuries at a time. He needed Aziraphale, he needed his companionship. He couldn't bear to lose him.
"Please don't do this," Crowley said, his voice breaking. "Please. I'm so sorry this happened. I didn't mean for it to happen. I didn't know it was you."
"I know you didn't," Aziraphale reassured him.
"Please. I'll do whatever you want. Let me fix this."
"Please don't make this harder than it already is-"
"We can pretend it never happened."
Aziraphale shook his head. "I can't."
Tears sprang to Crowley's eyes. "It's because I'm a demon, isn't it? A demon touched you-" How had Aziraphale felt when he realised it was him? Did he feel tainted?
Aziraphale looked up at him and his eyes softened. "No, Crowley. No, of course not. It's because we're on opposite sides and that makes it dangerous. We're supposed to be enemies. If my people found they'd blame you for tempting me."
"But you didn't know it was me! They'll never know what happened anyway. Our people hardly ever come to earth. It was an accident – it only happened one time."
"It was twice."
Crowley stopped himself from arguing that it was technically one and a half. "They'll never find out. It'll never happen again."
"I always thought I'd be able to talk my way out of any accusations," Aziraphale said distractedly. "Tell them I was keeping an eye on you, trying to get information out of you."
"You can still say that. This doesn't change anything. It's in the past now. We can go back to how things were."
Aziraphale looked up at him hesitantly.
"Look," said Crowley. "Do you really not want to see me anymore?"
"Of course I want to keep seeing you," Aziraphale said. He bit his lower lip and looked away. "I'm just scared I'll do something stupid."
"What happened today is not going to happen again. I won't go back to that park. It's yours." Crowley didn't think he'd ever to able to go back there anyway, not after what had happened.
"No. I- I know you need those places. I won't go anywhere like that ever again."
"I'm sure we can split the places we visit if you have one you-"
"I don't. That's not what I'm worried about. I'm worried I'll…" There was a desperate, ashamed, look on Aziraphale's face, and then his eyes swept over Crowley in a way that made the breath catch in Crowley's throat.
"Oh… You… Er. Okay," said Crowley, tripping over his words.
"Sorry."
"Don't apologise."
"It's just that I would really struggle to say no. If you were to feel the same. And I would need to say no."
"Of course I feel the same," Crowley said breathlessly.
Aziraphale made a shaky sound. "Crowley…"
"I know we can't," Crowley said. "It's okay. I would never take advantage of you like that."
"The problem is… I really want you to."
Crowley stared at him. This wasn't fair. "Yeah, well. Tough luck."
Aziraphale looked worried. "I don't think I should get drunk around you anymore. I might come onto you or something."
"I mean you're literally coming onto me right now, with your 'I really want you to.' But you can beg all you like, angel, it won't work."
"We both know you never say no to me."
Aziraphale was right. All it ever took was for Aziraphale to flash those puppy-dog eyes at him and he would do anything he wanted. He loved to see Aziraphale happy but this wouldn't make him happy. "This is different because I know you'd regret it. I can say no when I need to."
Aziraphale smiled at him.
"But all the same - no getting wasted together," Crowley warned.
Aziraphale nodded.
"Look, if you do need some time apart… I understand. I'll be here when you're ready, okay?"
Aziraphale bit his lip. "I- I'm so sorry I said such awful things. I don't want any time apart from you. I was just worried."
"It's okay, I understand. All the same, I think we both need some time to process this, yeah? I should head home."
"Yes. I think you're right."
"I'm sure it won't feel quite so overwhelming once real-life kicks back in. We just need to give it some time."
"Yes. And- And I'll see you on Wednesday?"
Crowley smiled. "Of course."
On the drive home, Crowley couldn't help but feel that they could be together if they truly wanted to. They were already spending so much time together, going to restaurants, chilling in the bookshop, they could hide a physical relationship too. They would just have to be careful – no public displays of affection.
But if Aziraphale thought it was too dangerous then Crowley wouldn't argue. He was probably right anyway. If they forgot themselves and kissed or touched each other too familiarly in public and the wrong people saw then it'd be game over. It was too much of a risk, and they were already risking so much just by being friends.
Oh, but knowing Aziraphale desired him was a sweet kind of torture. He'd suspected for a long time but knowing for sure made him feel ever so happy, even if they could never act on it.
He locked himself away in his flat, unable to get the memories out of his head - of Aziraphale, on his knees, moaning desperately as he sucked him off, of that thick, heavy cock and the way it tasted, the way it felt in his mouth. It both saddened and excited him to think that Aziraphale must be remembering these same things with the same mixture of guilt and longing.
They went out for dinner on the Wednesday. There was a tension in the air to begin with but soon it felt like any other day, though Aziraphale didn't invite Crowley back to the bookshop afterwards like he normally would.
They went out for meals, walks in the park, clandestine meetings in museums, art galleries and coffee shops just like they usually did. But it was a couple of months before Aziraphale invited Crowley back for drinks. They shared a bottle of wine, though they didn't drink anywhere near as much as they once would have. Crowley couldn't help but notice the way Aziraphale looked at him sometimes.
Crowley never went back to Evergreen park, and he struggled to find a new glory hole which suited him - in a public lavatory or in the back of a sexshop.
When the 1980's hit and the pandemic came along with it, glory holes became less popular amongst the gay community and were even considered dangerous. The police cracked down harder, laying traps where they knew gay men met. Crowley could use his supernatural powers to save himself and others from the law, so it was more of an inconvenience than anything else, but it scared off prospective playmates all the same.
If Aziraphale took any human lovers in that time, he was very discreet about it.
Then, a couple of decades later, the antichrist was born and Crowley had bigger problems to deal with than his non-existent sex life.
And then the apocalypse happened – or, more to the point, it didn't. And Crowley found himself holding hands with Aziraphale on a bus. By some miracle, all of the passengers were asleep when the bus went through a dark tunnel. The lights flickered and then went out, and when the bus came out at the other side, Aziraphale and Crowley had swapped bodies.
They were still holding hands.
They maintained the act. Aziraphale (In Crowley's body) went to Crowley's flat, and dealt with the remains of Ligur and the puddle of holy water. Crowley went to the bookshop to assess the fire damage and clear up the mess only to find that the shop was in perfect condition - as though nothing had ever happened at all. He wondered if his Bentley might have been so lucky. With a jolt, he realised that those material things – the bookshop and the car – didn't seem quite as important as they once had. All that mattered was that both he and Aziraphale survived what came next.
He spent that entire night practicing being Aziraphale.
Aziraphale enjoyed splashing about in the bath and flicking holy water at the glass screen, terrifying the demons who had come here to be entertained by his dearest Crowley's demise.
With a jolt, Aziraphale realised that in putting himself in this adorable little swimsuit he had inadvertently uncovered Crowley's arms. With a mixture of guilt and curiosity he looked at his arms, but he couldn't see any scales – not until he looked closer.
Tiny scales - the same colour as Crowley's skin - ran in patterns up and down his slender arms. Is this what Crowley felt so self-conscious about? Crowley's scales were beautiful, delicate, and so suited to his serpentine aesthetic. It was a crime that he felt the need to hide them away, especially from him. Aziraphale was going to make sure Crowley knew just how beautiful he was.
Author's Notes:
I made up the name Evergreen Park for this fic.
It was difficult to find out when coloured contact lenses were commercially available but it seems they've been in use in films since at least Citizen Kane which came out in the 1940s.
Info I found out about the 1950s film, Horror of Dracula:
'The contact lenses Christopher Lee had to endure led to him constantly complaining about them on and off set. Another side effect of those intrusive contact lenses: he couldn't see! During a take of filming Dracula running toward actress Valerie Gaunt, Christopher Lee's vision was so impaired that he ran past the camera's line of sight.'
So coloured lenses were not very comfortable back then, and you couldn't see properly in them either. I liked the idea of Crowley being one of the people Christopher Lee complained to!
The next chapter is going to be much happier, I swear!
