Crowley woke up with a hangover. He was curled up in bed, still wearing his serpent bottoms and hugging the tail. He let go of it and then forced himself to sit up. Head spinning, he grabbed a glass of water from his bedside table and then sipped at it while last night slowly came back to him.

He remembered Aziraphale, with his flirtatious smile and lopsided halo, taking him up onto the roof for some romantic stargazing before they got frisky in the maintenance shed. Crowley grinned at the memory of it. His headache didn't seem like the end of the world anymore.

Aziraphale had been a breath of fresh air. Kind, funny, and super-hot to boot. Crowley really wanted to see him again, and he hoped the feeling was mutual.

He checked his phone, full of excitement, but there were no messages. Still, it was only the next morning. What was the unwritten rule? Wait three days? Aziraphale seemed the sort for rules. Crowley was the kind of person to text right away, but he supposed most people had more self-control than he did.

Crowley flopped back in bed, eyes drifting closed as he let out a sigh. Perhaps this was just going to turn out to be another one-night stand. That seemed to be all he got these days. He'd tried going out to clubs, and he'd tried online dating, but no one was ever interested in anything more than a quick shag. It was disheartening. All Crowley wanted was a boyfriend.

He worried that he'd come on too strong. He'd only just met the guy and he'd gone down on him. It had seemed like a great idea at the time, and okay, thinking back on it, it still seemed like a great idea even now. But what if Aziraphale just saw him as a casual bit of fun now? Or thought Crowley was only interested in sex?

Head pounding, Crowley forced himself out of bed and went to make himself a cup of coffee and a fry up for breakfast. While the kettle boiled and he waited for the toast to pop up, he dug his hands into his pockets – an old habit to stop himself from fidgeting – and he found Aziraphale's handkerchief. It might have made his heart flutter if it weren't so crusty. He threw it into the washing machine, and then, deciding to wash his snake costume along with it, he turned his trouser pockets inside out to make sure he didn't miss anything. A long, white feather drifted to the floor and his heart fluttered for real this time. It was a feather from Aziraphale's wings. He'd found it against the wall in the maintenance shed – right where he'd sucked Aziraphale off - and he'd surreptitiously pocketed it while they'd passed the wine back and forth, planning to keep it as a memento.

Returning to his bedroom, he placed the feather in the top drawer of his bedside table, feeling a flash of foolishness at his own sentimentality. He shrugged into a dressing gown, took off his trousers and then grabbed the matching scaley top from where he'd thrown it on the floor the night before. Soon, he was shoving his clothes into the washing machine.

He was on his second cup of coffee and had already devoured his toast when his phone rang. Heart in his throat, he checked to see who it was. He'd been hoping it might be Aziraphale, but instead he was surprised to see Wensleydale's name pop up on the screen. Then he remembered.

Wensleydale - the owner the Wedding Car Company, although he preferred to be more involved in the accounting side of things – had said that he'd ring all of the interviewees today.

Stomach in knots, Crowley answered the phone. "Hi, mate."

"Hello, Crowley. How are you?"

"I'm good, thanks. You?"

"Great, thanks," said Wensleydale. "I'll get right to it, shall I? Is this a good time to talk?"

"Yeah."

"Are you still interested in the role?"

"Yeah, definitely."

"That's great news. I'm excited to offer you the job."

Crowley grinned, leaping to his feet. "That's brilliant! Thank you!"

Wensleydale laughed, and then the next few minutes went by in a blur as they discussed the fine details. Crowley would start his new position in the New Year, and he'd still be able to do the chauffeuring part of his job. He planned to hand in his two weeks notice at his old job on Monday.

"I made sure not to call you too early," said Wensleydale. "I knew you were out partying last night. How'd it go? Are you hungover?"

"I was very well behaved, I'll have you know. But they decided it wasn't fancy dress at the last minute, and no one told me, so there was only me and this one other guy dressed up."

"Oh, no! Well, I hope you still enjoyed yourself?"

"Yeah, it was great," Crowley said, thinking of Aziraphale.

"I want to see pictures of your outfit. Did you wear the contact lenses too in the end?"

"Yep. I can show you some photos on WhatsApp if you like?"

"Yes, please. I've got some more calls to make, but I'll look at the pics straight after. I'll talk to you again soon."

"Thanks again. See you soon."

After he'd finished his breakfast and sent a couple of photos to Wensleydale, he hung up his washing to dry. A closer inspection of the handkerchief revealed that there was a duck-egg blue letter 'A' embroidered in an elegant and fancy font on the cream cotton. 'A' for Aziraphale, he thought. Or, he decided with a smile, A for 'Angel.'

He'd fallen bad.

Aziraphale was sat at the kitchen table, eating a cooked lunch while dithering over when he should text Crowley. And what to say to Crowley, and if Crowley would even be interested in him anymore.

A loud ringing cut through his thoughts, and for a ridiculous moment he thought Crowley might be calling him. He hadn't even given him his number. A glance at his mobile told him it was Gabriel, and so he took a deep breath to steel himself before answering it. "Hello, Gabriel!"

"Hi. So you're alive then. You just sort of vanished."

"Oh, yes, my taxi arrived so..."

"Just checking you weren't dead in a ditch somewhere."

"Oh! No," Aziraphale said with an awkward laugh. "I'm still very much alive."

"You stole my good wine."

Aziraphale was silent for a moment, cheeks turning pink. "Oh. Um. Yes. I- I rather did, didn't I. Terribly sorry. I was rather tipsy... I don't know what came over me. I was hoping to replace it before you noticed. I'll buy you a new one."

"You'd better."

Aziraphale desperately searched for a conversation change. "I was talking to one of your colleagues. Nice fellow. Crowley. Red hair."

Gabriel scoffed. "You mean Anthony Crowley? Snake boy?"

"Anthony. Yes. He was in fancy dress too. Do you know him?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

There was a brief pause. "Do you fancy him?"

"..."

"Aziraphale. How do I put this? He's a bit slutty. You can do way better."

"That's a cruel word," Aziraphale said. And he didn't like the insinuation that he might just be Crowley's latest conquest either. "We just got on well, that's all."

"He's very unprofessional. Boasts about his latest hook-ups in the break room."

A cold dread washed through him. Would Crowley tell everyone in the office what they did? What if it got back to Gabriel? Surely he wouldn't. But what if he only chose him because he was Gabriel's brother and he wanted revenge or something? No. he refused to believe that Crowley would do that. Crowley had given him his number. He wouldn't have done that if it hadn't meant something, right? Besides, he'd learnt by now not to trust anything Gabriel said.

"It's a shame you left early. Sandy wanted to talk to you."

"You said you weren't going to invite him," Aziraphale snapped. "I've told you – I'm not interested. I don't want anything to do with him."

"He did apologise for upsetting your sensibilities."

"Well, excuse me if I don't enjoy stories of him battering unsuspecting pub patrons. Stop trying to get us back together. I'm not interested. I've told you."

"Don't be silly."

"I must go. There's a customer," Aziraphale lied.

"Open on a Saturday? Never thought I'd see the day. Well, I'll talk to you later. Don't forget to replace the wine."

"Yes, yes. Goodbye."

Aziraphale hung up, put his mobile phone down heavily on the table and then put his head in his hands. After he'd pulled himself together he picked up the phone again and called one of his closest friends.

"Oh, hello, dear," said Tracy, the sound of her voice calming.

"Hello, Tracy. How are you?"

"I'm alright, thank you. I'm sorry I didn't make it to the party last night. The seance took longer than expected. Did you have a good night?"

"Yes, I did actually. Although Gabriel forgot to tell me it wasn't fancy dress anymore, so I felt rather silly in my angel costume."

"Oh, dear."

"But it was okay," Aziraphale said. "I wasn't the only one. There was a fellow - Crowley - and he was dressed up too."

"Oh, lovely! Crowley wore his snake outfit then? He was very excited about it."

"You know him?"

"Yes. He works in HR with me. Lovely man. A real sweetie."

Aziraphale relaxed a little. Although, in Aziraphale's opinion, Tracy wasn't the best judge of character. She thought Shadwell was a sweetie, after all.

"Did you and Crowley spend some time together?" Tracy asked.

That was one way to put it. "Yes, we talked for a while. Nice chap."

"I'm glad you made a new friend. He's single, you know. And gay." As blunt as ever.

"I- Yes. I know."

"Oh my god! Did something happen?" Tracy asked excitedly.

"Don't tell anyone. I don't want Gabriel to know. Or to make things awkward for Crowley."

"Of course. Tell me everything."

"There was some kissing, and he gave me his number." It would be rude to go into details about what they got up to in the maintenance shed. Aziraphale was a gentleman, after all.

Tracy made a happy sound. "Oh, how wonderful! Have you called him?"

"Um. Is it too soon? I was going to text him, but what if he's changed his mind? He was very drunk. We both were."

"If you don't ask you'll never know. He's a nice boy. I'm sure he'll be eager to hear from you."

"Gabriel doesn't seem to like him. He just called me and said some rather nasty things about the poor fellow." Aziraphale hesitated. "He said that Crowley talks about his latest 'hook-ups' in the staff room?"

Tracy laughed. "He does no such thing. And besides, I'm sure Crowley has more sense than to blab about kissing a colleague's brother. He does know Gabriel is your brother, right?"

"He does."

"I've never heard Crowley talk about hook-ups or anything like that in the staff room. Only horror stories about terrible first dates he had with guys he met online. There was this one arsehole who immediately told him he should change the way he dresses, and another who walked out because he hadn't known Crowley was a natural red head. Said he didn't want to date a ginger! What I wouldn't give to have hair like Crowley without having to dye it."

"He does have lovely hair, doesn't he," Aziraphale said with a fond sigh.

"He certainly does. But the poor thing has been terribly unlucky in love. Although I suspect that's all about to change."

Aziraphale felt himself blush. "We'll have to wait and see if he's still interested, won't we."

"I'm sure he will be. He gave you his number for a reason. Now, I must be getting on. You go write that text and get your man."

"Thank you, Tracy."

Crowley's best friend, Anathema, came over later that morning and helped him write his letter of resignation. Once that was done, they settled down together in the living room to watch a film.

Crowley's phone buzzed on the coffee table, and he scrambled for it, heart racing. It was a message from an unknown number. It had to be Aziraphale. No one ever texted him - it was always Messenger or WhatsApp – and his stomach twisted with nervous excitement. He opened the text, but it was only an advert from his local pizza place trying to tempt him with 2 for 1 pizza.

"Ughh. I honestly thought it was gonna be him."

"It's still early days. Give him time." Anathema paused thoughtfully. "Hmm. Now I kinda want pizza for lunch."

"…Yeah. Me too."

Crowley had two pizzas delivered to the flat, and they'd just devoured them when another txt came through. This one was also from an unknown number, and Crowley's stomach fluttered as he opened it.

'Hello Crowley. This is Aziraphale from yesterday. I wondered if you fancied going to that new Italian restaurant some time?'

Crowley bit his lower lip, trying to contain his excitement. Of course he fancied going out, but what he fancied most of all was Aziraphale.

"It's him," Crowley said, trying to sound nonchalant and failing.

Anathema paused the film they'd been watching. "Oh my god! I knew he'd be in touch!"

Grinning, Crowley pushed his phone away onto the table.

"What are you doing? Aren't you going to reply?"

"Don't wanna seem too desperate."

"For God's sake, Crowley."

"Don't bring her into it. Do you want ice cream?"

"Always."

Crowley sauntered off into the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear. Although he was eager to reply to Aziraphale's text, he didn't want to rush it.

Anathema followed him and leant against the wall with her arms crossed. "C'mon. Don't play games with the poor guy."

"Alright, alright. I'll reply when we sit back down." Crowley grabbed a tub of ice cream. "What do you think I should say?"

"Ask him when he's free."

Once they were back on the sofa, Crowley found himself ignoring his bowl of ice cream, instead carefully copy/pasting Aziraphale's name from the message he'd received and setting his number as a contact. It was a relief and a delight to know how to spell it.

Then he spent a good twenty minutes composing a reply.

"Your ice cream is melting," Anathema warned.

"Yeah, yeah. I like it a bit melty. How's this sound?" He pushed the phone towards his friend and then grabbed his bowl of half-melted ice cream.

Anathema read it out. "'Hi Aziraphale. That sounds great. When would be good for you? Crowley xx' That took you twenty minutes?"

"Are the kisses at the end too much? But it's weird to sign my name without putting anything... I don't wanna just put, 'from Crowley,' but 'love Crowley' is a bit much, you know? Should I put three kisses instead of two? Is that too saucy?"

"I sent it."

"No!"

"You were overthinking it. It was perfect as it was. Two kisses for two idiots in love."

"Shuddup."

A reply came through just a few minutes later. 'How about next Saturday lunchtime?'

"Fuck. I'm driving the Bentley that day for a wedding," Crowley muttered miserably.

Crowley typed out a response. 'Sorry, I'm busy on Saturday. Would Sunday lunchtime be alright?'

'Yes, tomorrow it is! I'm looking forward to it.'

Crowley had meant next Sunday, but now that he thought about it, tomorrow was perfect. The sooner he got to see his angel again the better. He replied with, 'I'm looking forward to tomorrow too. What time? 12:30?' at the same moment he pressed send, another text came through from Aziraphale saying, 'Sorry, I just realised you probably meant next Sunday rather than tomorrow. Next Sunday is good.'

'Whichever Sunday you prefer. Maybe both!' Crowley wrote, then deleted the last line, not wanting to seem needy.

"You're both huge dorks and it's adorable," Anathema said. "You're perfect for each other."

Crowley's cheeks felt hot. "Takes a dork to know a dork."

Anathema laughed. "At this point, your ice cream is a milkshake, you know."

Crowley ignored her, instead focussing entirely on responding to Aziraphale.

Soon, they had a date arranged for the very next day, and Crowley couldn't wait.