Beatrice Z wouldn't say that they and their friend Crowley have similar taste. Crowley probably wouldn't say that either. Sure they both loved black, both went all out on Halloween, but they bickered about way more. The best type of men, the best alcohol, cats or dogs or snakes, which way around the toilet paper went, the best food, good music (Crowley would die on the hill of Queen)... Beez could go on. They enjoyed doing a drag king act, and Crowley indulged in his feminine side even when he wasn't performing. Beez had dyslexia, and Crowley couldn't do math. It would be boring to be too similar to your friends. Opposites attract and such. Yin to their yang and blah blah blah whatever.

They loved to disagree. And to argue. And to make fun of each other. Bullying was a love language, Beez insisted. Absolute opposites, through and through, both would insist.

So it's kind of embarrassing when they finally go on a double date and it turns out that their dates came from the same womb.

—

A little over a year ago…

When Beez got back from their mother's, Crowley was gone. For days, nobody knew where he had gone.

Dude, you alive?

They texted the new number that Criwley had scribbled down for them shortly before they had left, and tried to sound nonchalant over text. Their hands were shaking.

If I tell you, will you tell Luc

The response came a few minutes later. Even more confused, Beez hit the call button.

"Hello?"

"Crow, what the fuck? Of course I'm not telling that tosser anything, did you finally leave him? Are you okay? Cough if you're being held against your will."

"Bee, I'm good. I'm- if he asks, you didn't hear from me. I ran away."

They could have cheered, honestly. "About fucking time."

"I know. I know, you can say you told me so."

"I'm not that mean. Just tell me, do you have somewhere to stay? A job?"

"Yes, and almost. I'm sorry I didn't say anything to anyone, I didn't- it was kind of on a whim. And if he asked me not to I'm afraid I would have listened, I would have stayed-"

"Crow, it's okay. I'm not mad. Good on you, honestly. I stopped trusting him a long time ago."

"I just hope he doesn't bother you. I'm sorry if he does-"

"I can handle the bitch. Don't worry, just keep going where you are."

—

Luc did come sniffing around the club a few more times, perhaps hoping to catch Crowley on stage or behind the bar. He borderline interrogated some of the other dancers. Beez barked at him. They didn't regret it.

Let him think they were rabid.

He didn't come around again after that, and didn't find Crowley anywhere else in town. Beez didn't let Crowley tell them exactly where he was. The most they knew was up north, London area. It made them feel better to know as little as possible about that.

"Is he ever coming back?" Shax asked.

"Hope not. At least not until Luc is gone." Beez scrubbed at their makeup a little harder.

"Gone? Where is he going?"

"Oh, I don't know. Just saying, if it happens. I think that would be the only way Crow would be safe coming back here."

"So what I'm hearing is we're plotting a murder."

—

There was no murder. As much as Beez fantasized about it, it sounded like a lot of work and a lot of legal trouble for some loser. There were a lot of murderous stares, however. Whenever Beez saw that smug bitch at the grocery store or in line at the bank or whatever, she remembered the tear tracks on her best friend's face when the cast had come off-

-he tried to grip the pole and lean back into something that would normally come easy to him. The girls and Beez saw his grip loosen and couldn't do anything in time. He thudded to the mat. What used to be his dominant hand, attached to what used to be a strong wrist, was shaking and reportedly had waves of pain running through it like electricity.

He definitely couldn't dance right now. Maybe he never would-

-and Luc had shrugged. Just shrugged, like Crow's life wasn't crashing down around his ears.

Bastard.

—

"Do you want to hear your horoscope, Beez? Which one are you?"

"I'm trying to get ready for my show, Lia."

"Yeah. You wanna hear your horoscope while you do that?"

"They're a Scorpio," Shax chimed in from the other side of the dressing room.

"How the hell do you know?"

"You're the one always bragging about being a Halloween baby, of course I know, dumbass."

"Scorpio, give your prickly exterior a rest and open yourself up to a romantic experience," Lia read out.

"Bull. I don't do romance." Beez finally put the cap back on their eyeliner. "And I don't believe in horoscopes either."

"I saw you get a Tinder notification!" Another girl said, pointing an accusing finger.

"Oh, honey, Tinder is not for romance," Shax shook her head.

"Yeah, what she said. And you know they make those vague on purpose. Where's a horoscope about what I'm gonna eat for lunch tomorrow? I want to see them predict that."

"Well, it says Libra should avoid salads."

"Ridiculous."

—

"Why are you over here alone?"

Beez was not allowed to turn their head. They kept their forehead pressed against the brick exterior of the school building and growled at the question-asker.

"Why are you not playing?"

Again, they were silent.

"Hello. Can you hear me? I asked-"

"Anthony, come away from there." Mrs. Henderson, the teacher who had put Beez in time out in the first place, was now pulling Anthony away.

"But why-"

"Little girls who can't behave don't get to play during recess."

"What did she do?"

"And little boys who ask too many questions get lines to write. Go play with your friends."

Beez heard the longest most dramatic sigh they had ever heard in their eight years on earth. And for the first time that day, the edges of their mouth tugged up in a smile.

The next day, she found the annoying question asker arranging pebbles in the dirt all by himself.

"Mrs. Henderson is going to tell you to play with your friends. She doesn't like it when we go off by ourselves."

The boy glanced up at Beez for a moment, blinked two owlish brown eyes, then turned back to his task. "Is that why you were in time out? Did you play by yourself too much? I don't have friends. Do you have friends?"

"I bit the sped teacher."

"The what?"

"Special ed teacher. I go there for my reading. I bit him."

"Why?"

"I got mad."

"Oh. Are you going to bite me?"

"Are you going to make me read?"

"No. 'Spose not." The boy stood up and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "There. That's Pisces. It's supposed to be fish."

"That's not fish."

"You're supposed to use your imagination."

Beez tried to use their imagination. Either they didn't have a very good one or the question-asker was really bad at making pictures.

"I'm Anthony, but I don't like it. Who're you?"

"I'm Beatrice. I don't like it either."

Anthony liked his last name better. Crowley did sound cooler. "Since I'm a bird, you can be an animal too. You can be a Bee."

In fifth grade, someone got the bright idea to call the two of them 'the birds and the bees'.

Beez bit them too.

—

"Hey, weekly life check? Alive?" Crowley's exhausted voice came through the phone speaker.

"Nah. Picked up the phone from beyond the veil. How about you?"

"Unfortunately I'm still kicking. How have things been at the club?"

"Busy. Good, I guess. Wish seasonal depression would let me enjoy it."

"Shit. Are you still on-"

"Yeah, I'm taking my pills. They'll start working soon enough. How's your stupid crush, let me laugh at you for a while."

"You're the worst."

"No update then? Boo. Scaredy cat can't make a move."

"He saw me drunk singing to ABBA. There is no coming back from that."

"What?!"

"Are you still on Tinder? Is it still a cesspit of awful-"

"No no no, you don't get to just brush past that Crow, tell me. Which song, at least?"

Crowley sighed. "Winner Takes It All," he mumbled. "Stop fucking laughing, it isn't that funny!"

—

Beez was in fact still on Tinder. They had downloaded and deleted it three other times in their life.

The first two times they deleted it because they had started a relationship (well, then those fell through and the cycle began again). The third time, they had deleted the app in a rage after an awful date with a transphobe.

Crowley had taken them to a rage room that weekend, and handed them a hammer. It was the most cathartic experience of their life.

Now, whether it was a good idea or not, they were swiping through this God-forsaken app again. Their bio read: NONBINARY THEY/THEM, if you can't handle it, don't swipe. I love bugs. Biphobes do not interact.

That would scare away anyone not worth their time.

And the sheer amount of fish photos were scaring Beez away from countless profiles. Did men not have any other potential hobbies? Did they need to adjust their location settings?

Oh. Someone had swiped on them.

Hi, the message read. It was from a Gabriel F. What does biphobe mean?

Just want to make sure I'm not one.

You're hot

Are you goth?

Did this even warrant a response?

—

Wow, Beez thought. They didn't think it would get as far as meeting face to face, but here they both were. In a proper restaurant and everything.

Turns out Gabriel- once he knew what biphobe meant- was not a biphobe.

The man just lived under a rock when it came to most things queer, apparently.

"So it's like half gay? My brother is gay," he'd said. His voice wasn't annoying, Beez had noted. A little bit tinny over the phone speaker, but she could tell it would sound nice in person.

"Kinda. Sure. Half gay."

And once Beez explained to him what nonbinary was, he didn't have an issue with it either. Singular they was in the dictionary, apparently, and Gabriel wasn't one to argue with the dictionary.

"So if I'm attracted to you, and you're nonbinary, what does that make me?"

Beez wasn't sure if they wanted to laugh or facepalm. "I don't know, what do you want to be?"

He'd given that serious thought. "Your date," he finally settled on. "This Friday?"

And now he sat across from Beez, watching them pour the rest of the free bread into their purse.

"Thrifty. I like it."

He was a funny man. They agreed to meet again next week.

—

Gabriel thrived on routine. It almost made Beez suspicious of him being some sort of alien or robot. The two of them met up at the same time every week at one of the same two places, at the same time. On the fifth date, he let them look at his day planner, which he blocked out his entire life in almost religiously.

"And you're the grey squares. Because that seems to be your whole- y'know, aestetic." Turned out that every time they agreed to meet up again, the first thing he did was enter the 'meeting' into the ever-growing gap in his Friday.

"Wow. I've never met anyone who kept themself on a tight leash before. You're weird, you know that Gabe?" Were all lawyers like this? Beez hadn't been around academia for a long time, since they dropped out of uni. Maybe along the way, before graduation, they all turned into planner-using, meal-planning control freaks. Okay, maybe that was a little harsh. Beez didn't quite understand it, but as long as Gabriel kept picking up the checks for these little meetings, they could look past it for now.

"I'm organized. Without routine, there's chaos."

"I guess. To an extent though. You really spent the exact same amount of time eating breakfast every day?"

"Well, I always eat the same thing. So yeah."

"Every day?"

"Oatmeal is good for you."

"Oat- okay. Okay, I'm trying not to judge."

"I've never been much of a food guy. It's just fuel for your body, and sometimes a tool for socializing."

"Like right now?" Beez gestured to the plates between them. "When we go for lunch?"

"Yes."

"I suppose that makes sense. No spontaneity though? Ever?"

"Well, I try new things, of course. If I didn't try new things, I never would have met you. I just- I've got to pencil them in first. Helps." Gabriel was looking at the edge of the table now. Looked like vulnerability was as weird for him as it was for Beez. But now that he had opened up a little more, they felt the need to return the favor.

"I'm glad you penciled me in," they admitted. "I like this."

Their left hand found his right under the table. He laced their fingers together.

"Would you be willing to pencil in one more thing next week? Maybe Wednesday?"

—

Sometimes people only accepted people like Beez in theory.

Almost everyone they knew had at some point experienced the same thing, either with being queer or working at a place like a club (in same cases, both).

They had seen these kinds of trial runs go down 'like a lead balloon', as Crowley would say. A performer would be buzzing with excitement at the start of the night, searching the crowd for their person, and their msacara would be running by the end of the night when said person couldn't handle what they did for a living. "Whatever you do, don't apologize," he told them over the phone. "He knows what your act is like, yeah?"

"I gave him the SparkNotes pretty much."

"Then he knows what to expect. If he can't handle it, that's his problem."

"Mhm." Beez wiped away their eyeliner. Their hand had been shaking. They would have to try again. "I know. I'm still nervous though."

"You really like him, don't you?"

"He's- god, Crow, he's really weird and kind of uptight but I think I do. Really like him, that is. I wasn't really expecting to."

"How long's it been again?"

"Long enough that I deleted Tinder again because we didn't message each other there anymore. Should I not have done that? Maybe I should call in sick, maybe this wasn't a good idea-"

"Hey, don't panic. Go out there and perform, and shoot me a text when it's over. If it goes tits up, I'll drive over and we can watch Golden Girls and eat ice cream."

"You'll drive two hours to watch Golden Girls with me?"

"I don't have work in the morning. But it probably won't come to that, from what you've said, it seems like he really likes you too. For some reason."

Beez laughed. The knot in their stomach loosened. The ribbing was familiar, a lot more familiar than talking about emotions, and made them feel more at ease. "I can't figure it out either. Well, don't look a horse… with a gift? In its mouth? Whatever the fuck they say. I just won't think about it."

"Good. Don't think about it until after. You'll be fine. Talk to you later."

"Okay. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Crowley muttered, uncomfortable with being thanked.

—

"I hate it when she calls me that."

"What, pretty? 'Cause you aren't ugly, Bee." Crowley passed the bottle back to his best friend, who was numbing the world out in solidarity with him.

"I guess. The whole thing really. Pretty. Young lady." Beez took a drink and passed it back.

"So? What should she call you? An old lady?"

"Not a lady."

Crowley was quiet for a while. Drinking. He passed the bottle back and reclined, laying back on the roof. They had climbed out of Beez's bedroom window to chill out here. The stars were covered up by clouds, but Crowley stared at the sky anyways, like he could see them. Maybe he still knew where they were. Maybe they were burned into the back of his eyelids, or into his corneas. "Are you a guy then?"

"I don't think I'd like to be either."

"Okay. You think you'll tell her?"

"Dunno. Eventually."

Silence settled over the pair again. The bottle was almost empty. Beez went ahead and drained it.

"You think you'll change your name?" Crowley asked. His voice had gone softer. He was probably feeling floaty by now. Beez felt floaty too.

"Nah. I like Bee, or Beez. I like- it's like a bug."

"It is."

And that was that. They were 'them', and like a 'sibling' not like a sister, and a person not a woman. From there on out. Beez's mother never really got used to it, but their friends did.

—

They didn't make any eye contact with the audience while they were out on stage. If they looked and saw an expression on Gabriel's face that they didn't want to see, they were afraid they would stumble or forget to keep lip syncing. It was a good thing this set was familiar, and a lot of it was muscle memory.

The last song finished, and they dared to glance at the tables during applause.

Gabriel was clapping. The knot in Beez's stomach loosened further. The edges of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, seeing that they were watching him and meeting their gaze unwavering.

Beez smiled back.

—

"Did you pencil in this drive too?" Beez asked, tossing their bag into the backseat.

"Not really. Not- not with you."

"Is this fine?"

Gabriel started the car. "Yes. It's… new, but I like it. With you."

When they pulled up to Gabriel's flat, Beez discreetly sent the location to the work group chat. One could never be too careful.

"So, what do we do now?"

"Dunno. That's the think about spontaneity. It can be whatever we want."

"And what do you want?" Gabriel asked after contemplating that for a moment. Maybe this was his limit for stepping out of his comfort zone.

Beez reached over and turned his face toward them. They tucked their legs underneath them and steadied themself with their other hand on the armrest.

Gabriel wasn't a bad kisser.

—

They kept tacking hours onto their schedules, more grey boxes, more hours spent sprawled across the comfy white couch. Sometimes Gabriel would have work to do and Beez napped. Sometimes he would come watch their act and drive them after- either to his place or theirs.

It was shockingly easy.

There was no one moment when they decided that they were really doing this. Being together. It was just 'see you next time', every time.

"See you next time," Gabriel was straightening his tie, getting ready to meet with a client.

"See you next time," Beez was grabbing their bag out of the backseat of his car.

"See you next time," they were leaving the pub at an ungodly hour of the night.

Then it was cuffing season and Beez was calling Gabriel's phone while the pair listened for his ringtone. "I think it's in the couch cushions, babe," they said. (Okay, maybe they were a pet name person. Sue them.)

"Ah ha!" Gabriel finally pulled the stupid thing from its hiding place and Beez felt an emotion that wasn't familiar at all.

"Am I- did you put me in your phone as Sunshine?"

"Well, not at first. First you were Bee. Now you're sunshine." He was so nonchalant about it.

They grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him down into a kiss.

—

"I'm not saying I'm jealous of you, but…"

"But you totally are. Own up to it, Crow. Then stop faffing about and seduce the man already."

Crowley sputtered into the phone speaker. Beez grinned, not unlike the Cheshire Cat, and leaned back into Gabriel's touch. He was doing that thing where he ran his hand down their back and used his nails and it felt so damn nice…

"C'mon, it'll just be embarrassing if I get hitched before you."

"Hitched- discussing marriage already?"

"Not really. But it's looking like a distinct possibility for me. And not for you."

"Now you're just shamelessly bragging."

"Is it working? Are you annoyed enough to ask your crush out?"

"He would never go for it, Bee. I'm not- I just- he's so good."

"And single. And gay. And probably seducable."

They only teased him a little bit more before they moved on to other subjects. Then Crowley had to go to work- it seemed he was perpetually getting ready to go to work again- and Beez hung up the call with a "bye bitch, stay safe".

"Reminds me of my brother," Gabe said.

"Is your brother also a dumbass homosexual?" Bee sighed.

Gabe snorted a laugh. "He just doesn't seem to have any interest at all in putting himself out there. I worry about him. He moved to be further from our parents, which I can understand to an extent, but I thought he would have more of a… group. He has friends, he's always telling me, but no one to really… what we're doing right now."

"What are we doing right now?" Beez turned to smile at him.

"Sharing our lives. I think. Yeah?"

"I guess we have been."

"I just want him to be happy too."

"I'm sure our family will get their shit straight."

"Or not-straight."

That stupid pun should not have been funny. "Hush," Beez muttered, fully turning over to straddle his hips.

—

"This conversation did not- it's like the antithesis of the Bechdel test," Crowley hiccuped.

"Does it count if neither of us is a woman?" Beez asked.

"I- maybe it doesn't. Okay, let's keep going then. What's yourses-es, his favorite color? Mine likes yellow but he told me yesterday he was partial to red." Crowley was giggling, and suddenly Beez was too, and they had to give themselves time to stop.

"Okay, he likes grey a lot. Real light grey, though. Makes it easy to spot me in his flat, everything is so damn- damn light. Bright."

"Light-bright."

"He put like ten quarters in the jukebox on Saturday, it played my favorite song the whole time we were there."

"Just the one song?"

"Yeah, everyone got a little pissed after like- the third time? Fourth? It's good, it's a good one though."

"What is it?" Crowley asked. He grunted a little bit like he was standing up, and Beez heard a clatter from the other end of the line. "'M listenin', 'm listening I'm just pouring another drink. What song?"

"Everyday, it's a'getting closer, going faster than a rollercoaster…"

"Fuckin' Buddy Holly?"

"...love like yours will surely come my way. And we mostly just held hands."

"Wow. You guys are like- you're weird but you're also goals, y'know?"

"I think I love him, Crow."

"Wow," Crowley said again. "Like, for real?"

"For real. Do you love yours?"

"Of course."

"Good. We're like, we're winning."

"What're we winning?"

"Just- we're winning."

"Okay. Yeah. I think so too."

—

"Would you like to come to London with me?"

Beez looked up from their mobile game. "Hm? When?"

"Some weekend. Soon. I'm going to see my brother. I'd… like for you to meet each other."

Shit. Were they at the meet the family stage already?

"It's alright if you can't. He was just going to bring a date with- he has a new boyfriend apparently? I want to- how did you say it- vibe check the guy."

"Make it a double date? Sure, I can try to get those days off."

—

I'm gonna be in London next week

Saturday and part of Sunday

Wanna try to meet up?

Fr?

Sounds great

I've got a thing on saturday with the bf

But sunday is probably good

Good

Gabe and i are going out saturday too so that works out

—

In retrospect, they really should have seen it coming.

"Gabe!" A man with hair so blonde it was nearly white stood up from his seat in a booth near the front of the restaurant.

"Aziraphale!" Gabriel pulled his brother into a bear hug. Zira's date- Beez's best friend since childhood, was sitting in the booth, mouth hanging open.

"Beez?! You- he-"

"Anthony J Crowley, how dare you not tell me!"

"Tell- I didn't know!"

Gabriel and Aziraphale were giving their significant others weird looks. Crowley's face finally split into a grin. He laughed and slid past his boyfriend to pull his best friend into a hug.

"I think we've been really stupid," he said.

"Kind of."

"Wait, is this- Zira's Anthony is your Crowley?" Gabriel's eyebrows were furrowed.

"Yeah, and your Aziraphale is Crowley's Zira," Beez laughed.

"And your Gabe is Zira's Gabriel, and so forth," Crowley said. "Wow, this is…"

"Crazy. Wait, how come you never put the pieces together?" Beez pointed an accusing finger at Aziraphale. "Unless neither of you guys ever talk about me, which, rude."

"I- okay, maybe I should have checked if they were talking about the same Bee. Slash Beez."

"Now that we've all collectively decided to blame Aziraphale, who's ready to look at the menu?" Gabriel asked.

"Hey, I only take partial responsibility!"

"Maybe that's a little harsh-"

"I stand by my previous statement."

"Bee, I told you the bookshop was called Fell's bookshop and you never-"

"Okay, I do not remember that."

"Oh, look, they have gnocchi. Didn't you say you liked that, sunshine?"

"Oh my god-"

"Not a word, Crow-"

"You let him call you sunshine?!"

"Don't make fun, dove."

"Zira! You're supposed to be on my side-"

"Ew, you guys are gross. Dove?"

"You literally call him babe, shut the fuck up-"

(The descent into chaos was a happy one. Bullying was a love language, after all.)