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Asa could feel the sweat culminating on his brow as Anthony’s curious dark eyes locked onto his. The room, once chilly in temperature, began to rise and boil. He had fucked up. It was predictable, he knew this moment was coming. But he had planned a softer blow, he just had put off executing it. It’s hard to tell someone you’ve been seeing for 4 months that Asa is not your real name. Your real name is some long, complicated jargon that made children laugh during roll call. It's even worse when the man you’ve been courting finds out through your ex boss, who you have known for decades and never thought to mention.
Of course Gabriel of all people would bring this upon Asa. The man had a tendency to make his life infinitely worse, even when a situation had nothing to do with him. And now, even separated entirely for several years, he had still managed to take a nice moment and turn it into a humiliation ritual.
Well, Asa thought, time to give up on the absolute diamond of a man sitting across from him. Anthony would want nothing to do with him after this, after Asa had lied about his own name for months. If you can’t trust someone to tell you their name, how could you trust them at all? Asa wouldn’t blame Anthony if the night ended with warm wine to his face and a few harsh comments. And after Anthony had stormed off, Asa would swear off dating forever. From this day onward he would crawl into the floorboards of the bookshop and never see the sky again.
The night had started off well, it always does before disaster strikes. That was one of the most devastating aspects of disaster, it is sandwiched between moments of joy. As soon as one gets over the previous life changing event, another one comes to rip the soul out of you. At least, this was how Asa perceived his own life. He was supposed to be cataloguing some Oscar Wilde copies. But instead he had tucked himself into the far corner of the shop, away from Derrick's gaze, to read a particularly tempting cover. This was not an uncommon trick of his, and he was quite sure Derrick knew of this trick and chose to ignore it.
The rumble of Anthony's car tore Asa from the new edition of the Importance of Being Earnest and towards the jingling bell above the door. The chill of Soho brushed into the shop as the redhead entered, hands tucked strategically behind his back and a smile curling at his lips. Anthony, a few weeks ago, had made a habit of bringing little gifts to the shop. Sometimes it was a pastry fresh from the bakery next door, other times it was an expensive bottle of champagne. No matter the gift, Asa’s breath would be swept away in pure amazement and gratitude. He felt his own face soften as he slipped from the comfort of his armchair towards the taller man.
“Anthony! Whatever have you got this time?”
“What makes you so sure I have anything?” Anthony teased, stepping further into Asa. The smell of firewood and fennel overtook the space, guiding Asa further into Anthony's warmth.
“Perhaps it's the way you’ve stuck your hands suspiciously behind your back. But I suppose you could just be mimicking a chicken.”
Anthony flushed, his gaze dropping down to his snakeskin shoes. Asa remembered the first time he wore them, it had been a bit of a shock to see him in something so bold. He was always dressed in dark, simple fabrics like any other bloke on the street. But the more time they spent together, Asa was able to find the pops of personality beneath his clothing. An expensive sea master watch, a snakehead delicately carved into the leather of his belt, and an odd amount of sunglasses for someone who lived in London. Anthony was a bit of a dark horse, but Asa found it all the more captivating.
A bouquet of baby’s breath, hydrangeas, and magnolias wrapped in a light blue ribbon appeared in Anthony's hands. The bouquet was a precious mix of blues and whites, like a summer sky bathed in fluffy clouds. The baby’s breath curled around the hydrangeas and magnolias, encapsulating them like a halo. It looked like a bouquet dressed for a bride. “Ngk, they, er…reminded me of you,” he stuttered, shifting his gaze to Asa and then back to the hardwood.
Asa felt his lips part as he stared at the exquisite arrangement. Anthony, or anybody for that matter, had never given him flowers. Flowers were meant for beautiful beings, for people who found unconditional love and were able to manifest it into a physical form of roses or poppy’s. Asa had always wanted flowers, he reckoned most people did, but had given up on the notion that anyone would deem him worthy of such a declaration. Yet here Anthony Crowley was, only a few months into their relationship, holding the prettiest bouquet in miles. Reaching out, Asa’s fingertips kissed the delicate flowers framing the edges of the offering. A smell of innocent sweetness caused his own cheeks to bloom in color.
“It’s too much isn’t it? I can return them. Let’s just forget this ever happened, actually.” Anthony murmured, withdrawing the bouquet as he stepped out of the bubble they had created. The loss of Anthony's warmth snapped Asa back into the bookshop.
“No no no! I mean no, this is very lovely. They are very lovely, I can’t thank you enough dear boy,” Asa stammered as he reached out to cradle the gift in his arms. Despite the bouquet weighing no more than a feather, the weight of its importance stabilized his thoughts. The tension in Anthony’s shoulders melted as he placed a hand over his heart.
“There’s a new restaurant down the street. I figured we could pop in there and give it a try.”
“Ah, perfect! Let me grab my coat and we’ll get a wiggle on,” Asa chipped as he turned to grab his tartan coat from the desk chair. Anthony’s brow raised as he offered his arm to the blonde.
“A wiggle on?”
The restaurant was tucked into an odd corner of Soho, almost hidden amongst the stores that surrounded it. Anthony stepped forward, holding the door open as Asa entered the establishment. Chatter filled the room, complimented by the frantic steps of wait staff addressing various tables and chefs flipping frying pans. Anthony muttered the name of his reservation to the hostess and Asa felt a wave of endearment wash over him. He was so lucky to have Anthony, to be spoiled so often with nothing expected in return. Asa had not done anything to warrant this kind of treatment, but Anthony had given it to him anyway.
They were escorted to a red cushioned booth surrounding a white clothed table. Long candles were accompanied by white china and expensive glittering silverware. A pit began to form in Asa’s stomach as he was seated at the extravagant set up. Had he forgotten something? Was this some sort of anniversary or special occasion that had slipped his mind? He thought back to the calendar perched beside his bed, no ink decorated the day. Perhaps he was going mad.
A hand slid into his to pull him out of the mental gymnastics of calendar dates. “You alright?” Anthony murmured, cocking his head in such a way that a piece of red hair brushed his eyebrow. The pit in Asa’s stomach weakened as he gazed at the beautiful man across the table.
”Sorry, it’s just, is this for something? I’m afraid I don’t know why you’ve gone through all this trouble.” Asa chuckled dryly, glancing up at the high ceiling decorated in lanterns. “Not that I don’t enjoy it, but I feel like I’m missing something.”
Anthony chewed on his lower lip as he gazed at their joint hands. His fingers were long in comparison to Asa’s, they brushed the tips of his knuckles when he shifted. “You said you wanted to try the new restaurant, can’t help it if it’s fancy.”
”But the flowers..”
”Oh, those weren’t planned. I just saw them in the window on my way over. Thought you might like them, they’re the same color as your shop.” Anthony’s hand began to dampen, shy as ever about his affections. Asa exhaled a breath of worry that had built inside his chest. There was no occasion, nothing he had forgotten, just Anthony being magnificent Anthony.
Asa brushed the callous of his thumb over the freckled skin on his partner's hand, smiling when brown eyes met blue. Anthony melted into the look, the lines around his brow softening as he leaned towards the candlelight between them. The golds and oranges danced on his face, brushing down his sharp jawline into the collar of his coat. He brought Asa’s hand up to his lips and gave a kiss upon his palm, as if he was a suitor from a Jane Austen novel. If his plan was to woo Asa into a lovesick frenzy, he had done so with flying colors.
The romance didn’t last as Asa’s eyes drifted beyond Anthony’s.Behind him, in the darkness of the restaurant, stood a tall man in a costly suit. He was staring at Asa with a grin only found on Mormons and spokespeople, a grin Asa had become far too accustomed to. The room's chatter was replaced with Asa’s own heartbeat as the man waved. In front of him, Anthony’s smile faded as his brows knitted into a look of concern. “Everything okay Asa?”
”Uhm, yes, jolly good. Uh…” Asa felt his brain melting out of his ears as he ripped his hand from Anthony's grip, the loss scorching his fingertips. There was no time to dwell on the pained look on Anthony as the man, Asa’s former boss, waltzed up to the table like his life mission was to kill him. No, worse, to clown on him in front of Anthony Crowley, the only person he cared to impress. Perhaps if Asa sank far enough into his chair, Gabriel would get the memo and walk away. Such luck was never on his side.
“Fell!” Gabriel gasped, as if he hadn’t been eyeing them for who knows how long. The idea of it made Asa’s stomach churn violently. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you in a century! Still a foodie I see.” Gabriel chuckled, punching Asa in the arm. That was definitely going to bruise later into the night.
Asa had known Gabriel since time existed, or that's what it felt like. They went to the same high school, and unfortunately the same college. They had worked together for 20 painstaking years after that in a suffocating minimalist office. If Asa could describe the biggest disaster in his life, it was meeting Gabriel.
The man had never been nice to him, frequently teasing and picking on him to bask in his shame for whatever selfish reason Asa could never comprehend. Asa’s dating life was a crutch Gabriel often used in his jokes, though weight and social awkwardness were just as common. He always depicted Asa as the most unattractive and foolish being on Earth, seeming to forget they had kissed one time in high school and Asa had always been head of his class. In Gabriel's defense, the kiss happened when he was extremely and astronomically drunk. Asa had been walking him home from a football game, per his mothers request, and Gabriel had drunkenly trapped his shoulders and smashed their lips together. It was rough and sloppy, Asa remembered the swell of hatred in his chest when they had separated. So much for a first kiss in a ballroom or under an awning. Neither had any real interest in each other, he was quite sure Gabriel hated him more than he disliked Gabriel. The whole thing had just happened and they made sure to never discuss it. So yes, Gabriel was a curse on his existence, and he was about to drive out the only kind man to ever show interest in his ex coworker.
Anthony coughed, eyes sharp and calculating as he eyed Gabriel. “Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met,” he spoke, his voice low and flat. The only time Asa heard that version of Anthony’s voice was between their occasional fights or when he had received a parking ticket. It brought a small comfort that Anthony did not appear fond of Gabriel upon first impression.
Gabriel paused, gaze shifting from Asa onto his date. He eyed him up and down, clicking his tongue with a cheeky grin. “Aziraphale never mentioned me? I’ve known the guy since high school. Let me tell you, you never forget a face like his.”
And that led Aziraphale to this current moment in time, with Anthony’s eyes widening and a drop in his scowl. He turned, slowly, so slowly, to Aziraphale with a heavy question on his tongue. Aziraphale felt his chest constrict, the air between them drawing him further into his seat. He fought the urge to shelter, straightening himself to look properly at Anthony. I’m sorry, he thought, please don’t go. Gabriel remained oblivious as he continued his monkey brained babbling.
“I was just in here with Michael, you remember Michael don’t you? Always so serious, but she’s an excellent worker. She’s over there, she didn’t want to come over and say hi. But can you blame her after all the stunts you pulled?” Gabriel placed his hand on the table, leaning on it like one would their home countertop. Aziraphale stumbled to push the candles away from his suit jacket, opening his mouth to defend himself. Gabriel quickly continued. “How’s the bookshop working out for you? You seemed awfully excited to switch jobs considering the drop in pay. But you always liked books more than people,” he sneered the last few words behind the pearls of his teeth.
“Asa runs the bookshop quite well, actually.” Anthony’s voice breached the tundra, a warmth climbed up Aziraphale as his partner brushed their legs together. “That’s how we met, he’s clever as anything.”
Gabriel nodded, his confidence dropping just enough for his hand to slide off the table. Anthony took the opportunity to shove his own elbow on the edge of the table, the candlelight striking a fire in his glare. “Well, you should come by the office sometime. I’m sure Sandy and Uriel would love to see you,” Gabriel nodded, turning his back to the fire of a man behind him. It was an invitation of pleasantry alone. Sandy and Uriel hated Aziraphale, they had cornered him on several occasions to scold him for whatever action they disagreed with. An office party would just be a sure way for his ex coworkers to gang up on him and feed off his anxiety.
“I will see to it,” Aziraphale murmured, eyes flickering past Gabriel to Michael lurking behind him. She looked like a cliche for an evil boss, with her white suit and permanent frown lines engraved on her face. She was daring him to say something, to defend himself, but Aziraphale was not in the mood for that kind of bickering. Not when his past had just ripped the present right from his fingertips. Gabriel gave a nod and returned to Michael's side, clearly gossiping about the interaction that had just taken place as they exited the restaurant. Aziraphale glanced around for a waiter. He would explain that something came up and that way they could both exit the table. If Anthony wanted he could yell at Aziraphale in the parking lot, or he could take his Bentley and the bouquet within it and leave.
Anthony dragged his elbows off the table and retracted his leg from Aziraphales, drawing the blonde from his escape plan. He braced himself for that low, flat voice. The voice of, congratulations, you have successfully lost me and I will now tell you to fuck off. Silence stretched between them, turning the aura restaurant into an eerie graveyard. Aziraphale's hands were damp in his lap, twisting and pulling his fingers as he fought for any words that could appropriately explain the situation.
“Uh, sorry about that. That’s just, how he is I’m afraid,” Aziraphale whispered in his attempt to make polite conversation. When the words left his tongue, he found himself missing the silence.
”What an ass,” Anthony scowled, running a hand through the white streaks in his hair.
Aziraphale gave an empty laugh, gaze dropping to the wrinkled napkin beneath his fingers. “Yes, quite.”
“So, Aziraphale…” The redhead's sarcastic tone bit into Aziraphale, there was no getting out of this. “I’ve never heard that before. Sounds like an angel's name.”
Heat rose from Aziraphale's neck up to his cheeks. Despite the cutting edge in Anthony's voice, it was a genuine compliment. “Yes, my mother was a religious woman. She quite liked angels. I believe she made it up…”
”Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Well for starters, Gabriel created a joke about how Aziraphale Fell sounded like a fallen angel. I can’t say I think he’s too off the money on that particular remark..” Aziraphale uttered, peeking back up at Anthony. His lips were pressed into a firm line and he leant against the chair like a weightless doll. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if that meant he was relaxed, or he was only pretending to be. “And I was planning on telling you, it’s just rather difficult to bring up a topic like that. And Asa is a much simpler name, that's what everyone calls me.”
Anthony hummed in agreement, knuckles knocking on the side of his chair as he sat. A grin creeped upon his face as he pondered, eyes fixed on Aziraphale. Aziraphale shifted in his seat, he did not find any of this particularly funny. Mayhaps Anthony found Gabriel's joke funny, but nobody found that man's jokes funny, not even his own mother. “You really are an angel,” Anthony finally chuckled, leaning forward to rest his head in his palm. “You’ve got the blonde curls, the funny name, and the round face. You’re just like a little cherub.”
Embarrassment shifted to make room for the irritation prickling Aziraphales skin. It really wasn’t that funny, there were plenty of people with round faces and blonde hair. Half the American population looked like that. The only difference was Aziraphale had an angelic name, but so did Michael and Gabriel. “See? This is why I don’t go telling people my name. Look at you, laughing over it, and then you ask why I didn’t tell you,” the blonde huffed, snatching the napkin from his lap and wringing it tightly. The comment wiped the cheeky grin clean off the others face.
”It’s not a bad thing!” Anthony stammered, sitting up a little straighter, “I like angels! Big fan of angels, me.” He paused, nibbling his bottom lip as he assessed the correct course of action. Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel a little proud that even after the Gabriel fiasco, Anthony still cared for his opinion. Finally the man spoke. “I like your name. It suits you, not just how you look but…you act like an angel too,” he breathed, eyes locking with Aziraphale's.
Aziraphale felt his breath catch in his throat as he struggled to swallow. “How so?” he whispered, studying the hesitancy in Anthony’s eyes. The fear of his reaction was gone, and replaced with the soft fascination he had felt before Gabriel had arrived. Anthony slipped him a small smile, a genuine smile, and placed his hand onto the table. His palm sat empty, waiting for Aziraphale’s. Aziraphale beamed back, slipping his hand into place and interlocking their fingers.
“You’re so kind in everything you do. It’s like…like you're a beacon of light in that damn bookstore.” Aziraphale pursed his lips, debating if he should bring up that his bookstore was a very lovely place and there was nothing damned about it. “I remember when you smiled at me after you asked me to dinner, and I was already comparing you to the different star systems out there. And watching you interact with all your neighbors, you’re always so gentle even when you’re in a shit mood. You’re even nice to that bastard who came by. So, I like your name suits you plenty, Angel.” The pet named rolled off his tongue, like it was a sound he had practiced a million times over.
Love bloomed in Aziraphale's heart, spreading through his limbs and into the fingertips that held Anthony’s hand. He couldn’t remember why he was scared of Anthony in that brief moment, why he thought the man would ever shout or curse him. Anthony made him feel safe, like no force on Earth could tear him down. “Well, that’s rather lovely of you to say…”Aziraphale murmured, gazing at Anthony through his lashes. “I think, I think I’d like it if you called me by my name, my real name.”
A smirk played on Anthony’s lips as he leaned over the table and pressed his lips against Aziraphales. The kiss was short and sweet, but enough to draw a hunger between the two men. A hunger that would have to wait to be solved after their expensive dinner. “Anything for you Aziraphale.”