Raphael tried to go at a more normal speed trying to please the demon, of course he performed a couple of miracles to get the traffic lights to turn green and there was some undue overtaking causing the blond to tighten his fingers on the leather seats.

"Come on... I'm driving fine..." The angel complained.

"This street is..." he fell silent, another swerve to overtake a bus. "This road is 40 miles an hour, you're going at.."

"Oh, no, don't even think about it," the sound of a horn and Raphael running a stop sign shut him up again. "Point number 1, I'm doing 70, that's within reasonable speed. Cops don't even give tickets when you're going a little over speed."

"That's when you're going five miles over the speed limit, not thirty!" his fingers squeezing the upholstery tighter.

"Point number two, I hope, for your own good, that you're not leaving marks on the precious seats of my car." And, although Aziraphale knew Raphael and knew he would never hurt him he didn't know what Raphael would be capable of doing for his car... he would certainly get very angry and it wasn't something the demon wanted so he released his hand bringing it over his lap holding the lantern. "Point number 3" Raphael swerved again and Aziraphale let out a gasp, indignant as he almost dropped the lantern. "Point number 3" Raphael swerved again and Aziraphale let out a gasp, indignant as he almost dropped the lantern. His hand this time didn't go to the upholstery, it clung to the angel's shoulder. "We are here."

Aziraphale then looked out the window, that abrupt movement had been to park the car. Raphael had an amused, sly smile on his face and the demon wondered why when OH!... Instantly he let go of his shoulder in embarrassment, it had been a reflex action. The angel let out a light chuckle as he stepped out of the car and Aziraphale took a moment to calm down, were her cheeks slightly flushed? Raphael opened the door for him, still smiling, stupid damned angel.

They walked in silence, Raphael lived in a luxurious Georgian building, the entrance was high ceilings, coffered ceilings. It was an old building recently renovated in the pure style of the time, Aziraphale knew that Raphael always adapted to the era they were in, he wondered if he used to move too. They stepped into the lift, the angel closed the door after letting the demon go through first, he pressed the button for the penthouse.

"The elevator operator doesn't work on weekends..." he explained in a whisper, putting his hands in his pockets, was he nervous? Aziraphale wondered.

Aziraphale smiled looking at the doorbell, a cobra, he remembered Raphael playing with a similar one in Uz. Curious... now humans used the snake as a symbol of the archangel, of medicine, of pharmacies, just as the redhead had said that day. The sound of the door distracted him from his thoughts. The truth is that the style of the 50s and 60s was not his favourite, too many stimulations, too much colour, strange patterns... However, Raphael's flat was elegant, large wooden panels covered the walls, the ceilings were high and the windows were wide. They came to an office of sorts, in the centre a table and a throne completely out of context with the rest of the appartment, both facing a large window that gave access to the terrace. The views were beautiful, Aziraphale wondered how easy it would be to identify Soho from there, he wondered if the angel had tried to spot his street, his bookshop. He continued to look around the flat curiously, the scent of the angel flooding every corner. There was little else he could see, a long hallway, wood, elegant cream-coloured wallpaper, plants? Lots of plants, to tell the truth, he was sure they were the most beautiful in all of London. There were pieces of art, vases, sculptures... then he turned to look at Raphael, he was in front of a sketch of the Mona Lisa. He unlatched it to reveal a safe, after opening it he looked at the demon, who was still holding the lantern against his body.

"Go ahead..." indicated the angel with a soft tone, when the demon left him there he closed the safe again and placed the painting. "See? Safe and sound." His tone was still soft, as was his smile.

"Yeah... well... I think I should..." leave... but he didn't want to, he wanted to see what was beyond that hallway, what artwork he would have hidden, what his special corner was. Aziraphale loved to read, he had his perfect sofa, his tea corner... Raphael didn't enjoy reading too much, what did he do in his free time? He knew Raphael liked to sleep, he had spent most of the 14th century sleeping and, he knew the archangel wouldn't admit it, but more than once he had fallen asleep in the bookshop while Aziraphale read, enjoying the soft breathing. His mouth went dry and his heart skipped a beat thinking about what the archangel's bedroom would be like.

"Would you like a drink?" a voice behind him asked, sounding even shy. Aziraphale simply made an affirmative sound, not turning to look at him, he could tell his cheeks were warm. "Perfect, follow me then." He could feel the angel's smile as he spoke.

He followed the red head through the hallway, one of the areas looked like a forest and on the ground he could see some gardening equipment. He tried to avoid looking to the half-open door through which he could see the corner of a bed with red sheets.

"How many plants do you have?" he tried to focus his mind on something else.

"A lot." He replied mockingly, glancing over his shoulder at him. "Are you envious? I can bring you one next time I come to your bookshop, it wouldn't hurt to have something alive, so many dusty books..." He got what he wanted, an annoyed and offended snort from the demon.

They came to a sort of living room. An elegant fireplace in the middle, a designer bookshelf, but no books, instead there were expensive bottles of alcohol. Aziraphale rolled his eyes. They sat on the sleek, modern, blood red leather sofa, each in a corner. Raphael conjured up a wineglass for the demon and a glass with ice for him, pouring sherry and whiskey respectively.

"I bought your excuse for drinking wine, what's your excuse for whisky?" asked the demon with a mocking tone trying to break the silence.

"I didn't know I had to justify myself to you." He replied defiantly with a half smile, taking a swig from his glass.

"Maybe I'll use this against you, angel" He took a small drink from his glass as well.

"You can't try to make me think you'll rat me out after you risked your beautiful wings to get me hellfire." Beautiful echoed in Aziraphale's head. The angel looked at him defiantly, teasingly, took another drink and the demon licked his lips trying not to look at the angel's neck as he swallowed. "Or is that part of your plan?" The angel finished his glass before setting it down on the table, as if he needed courage for something. His hand then positioned itself in the empty space between them and rested his weight on it, leaning forward, narrowing the distance between them considerably. "Do you want to make me fall?"

"No..." he could simply say, held his gaze for a couple of seconds, maybe minutes. But gradually Raphael's lowered to his lips and the demon shivered slightly. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around? "Angel..." but he didn't know what to say.

"Yes?" the redhead asked with an innocent tone and the corners of his lips curving upwards.

The demon's gaze dropped to the archangel's lips. Was he closer? When had he ever gotten this close? They were mere bare inches apart, Raphael now had both hands on the couch, he was kneeling on it. Aziraphale licked his lips and before he knew it the distance between them was non-existent. Raphael had ended the distance, his lips did not move, the touch was gentle, soft. The demon remained wide-eyed, not knowing what to do. Then Raphael broke away, looking into his eyes, waiting for something, any reaction, but the demon was paralysed. Raphael sighed, making a small grimace of sadness, disappointment and started to move away, but before he could do so the demon grabbed him by the lapel of his jacket and pulled him close again. This time the kiss was demanding, his lips moved over his opponent's. Raphael let out another sigh, moving even closer, placing one hand on the demon's waist and the other on his cheek. For brief moments, all that could be heard were ragged breaths. The archangel's lips were delicious, they made him feel warm, his chest almost ached, it was an image that had haunted him for decades. He had never imagined himself fulfilling it. Raphael for his part was intoxicated, he pulled the demon to himself with need, pulling his waistcoat on.

"Angel..." The blond whispered against his opponent's lips and he could feel the naughty smile on his face. Raphael ran his tongue over the demon's lower lip asking for permission to deepen the kiss and his whole body trembled.

Then his body tensed. What were they doing? He was tempting the archangel, even though he knew he had said it in a joking tone Raphael's question replayed in his head Do you want to make me fall?.

"Aziraphale, what...?" he asked over his lips, but before he could even finish the question the demon abruptly rose from the couch.

The angel's body fell forward due to the demon's lack of support but his reflexes managed to stop him before he could be hit. Their gazes were intense, both breathing heavily. Aziraphale felt guilty at the cocktail of emotions that he could see on the brown eyes: confusion, desire, fear of rejection... At the end the angel had proved to have the courage the demon had been incapable of summoning. He hated having cut off contact, hated having to leave, and felt terribly guilty because he knew he was going to break the illusion he saw in the redhead's gaze. But he would feel guiltier if something bad happened to the angel because of that kiss, because of what the kiss could bring, because of his agreement. He cleared his throat, fixing his waistcoat, trying to look casual, trying to look cold.

"No one can know about this, we haven't met tonight, I haven't been here." His voice sounded icy cold and he could see his opponent's expression change, pain, rejection, resentment. Better this way, he thought, then it would be easier to walk away.

He turned around not wanting to look at the angel again because he knew if he did he wouldn't be able to keep walking. His feet moved on their own, he walked through the door, stepped into the lift, through the doorway and out. The night air hit his face and he found himself leaning against the wall of the luxurious building, trembling slightly, caressing his lips where the angel's had once been and panting, trying to hold back the tears. What had he done? What had they done?

When he managed to pull himself together he started walking, but before he turned the corner and lost his way in the direction of the bookshop he turned and looked back at the building he had just exited. The sight of angels and demons was much better than that of humans, so he could perfectly glare at the long, red-haired figure watching him from the penthouse, leaning casually on the balcony railing. For a moment he thought about going up again, for a moment he thought about everything that could happen, he thought about more kisses, he thought about the archangel's neck, about how much he would like to taste him, about taking off his turtleneck jumper, about tangling his fingers in the red hair, he thought about discovering his bedroom, about continuing the kisses all night long all over his body, about hugging him afterwards, about watching him sleep in the morning, seeing the red hair messed up on the pillow, maybe going out for breakfast... He also thought of the consequences, the pain of the fall, the possible modifications his archangel might suffer, how they would break him, his good nature corrupting, the tortures… Would he be the same? Would he remember him? Would he forgive him for causing it? He thought of the good labours Raphael performed and thought how selfish it would be to deprive the world of them, of his gifts. Then he turned away, once again holding back tears.