Chapter Text
Aziraphale sat, impeccably dressed, waiting in his quaint little apartment above his book shop. He flipped through his book idly as he waited for the date Deirdre and her boyfriend had set him up on to arrive. The man was late. Very late.
Aziraphale could recall when he agreed to the arrangement with Deirdre. “He’s one of Arthur’s friends from his band days. Just moved here. I think you’ll really like him.”
Aziraphale didn’t go out on dates much, too socially awkward. But he longed for romance and to find “the one”, so he had agreed with a small glimmer of hope. He was quickly losing that glimmer of hope, in fear that his date would never show up. Aziraphale looked to his watch; it was now 8:45; the man was supposed to have come to pick him up around eight.
Finally, a knock sounded at the door. Aziraphale fluttered to his feet, smoothing down his waistcoat before opening the door. The man who greeted him on the other side was gorgeous but looking far from put-together. He was tall and lanky, with wild, short, red-dyed hair spiked up as if he was trying to pull off being young and hip. He had a pair of dark sunglasses perched on his nose, obscuring his eyes even in the dim evening light. He was dressed like this was a casual meet-up, and not a date. His clothes were rumpled, a black button-up half tucked into tight jeans. He had the distinct air of someone who had either just rolled out of bed or simply never cared to fix himself up in the first place. His mouth twisted into a lopsided smirk, but his stance suggested he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Anthony?” Aziraphale greeted, offering a polite smile.
“Crowley. Everyone just calls me Crowley.” The man corrected, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Ah, right. I see.” Aziraphale nodded, not entirely sure what to make of him.
“Am I late?” Crowley asked, though he didn’t seem particularly concerned.
Aziraphale glanced at his watch. “Oh, only by forty minutes. But it’s not a worry.” He waved it off with an awkward chuckle. “Shall we get going? I’m absolutely famished.”
“Yeah, sure,” Crowley grunted, stepping aside for Aziraphale to exit his flat.
As they walked, Aziraphale attempted to start a conversation. “So, Deirdre mentioned you just moved here.”
“Yep.” Crowley popped the ‘p’ with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
“I still can’t believe Arthur was in a rock band. So different from who he is now.”
Crowley hummed in a vague response, nodding. “So, how do you know Deirdre?”
“Oh, book club,” Aziraphale said.
Crowley nodded as he led them toward his car, but Aziraphale could tell he was not really paying attention. Aziraphale expected Crowley’s car to be something... well, ordinary. Instead, he found himself staring at a sleek, retro Bentley. His mouth parted slightly in admiration.
“Oh, my! Now, this is a beauty.” Aziraphale complimented.
Crowley smirked. “Thanks.” He then made his way to the driver’s side door and got in. Aziraphale stood awkwardly waiting. “You getting in or what, angel?” Crowley called from inside the car.
“Oh, right.” Aziraphale jumped into action, opening the passenger-side door. “I just thought you were going to open the door for me. You know, like a gentleman would.”
“I’m not a gentleman,” Crowley muttered, fixing his sunglasses on his face before turning the ignition on.
Aziraphale barely had time to settle into the passenger seat before the Bentley roared to life with a Queen song blasting far too loudly. Crowley set off like a man who had never once considered the concept of speed limits.
“Good gracious!” Aziraphale yelped, gripping what he could hold onto inside the vehicle.
Crowley drove the Bentley like hellhounds were chasing it. He was acting like driving at mad speeds was completely normal for him, ignoring honks as he weaved in and out of traffic.
“Oh, please watch where you're going!” Aziraphale squeaked.
“Relax, angel. I know what I’m doing.” Crowley huffed.
Aziraphale almost wanted to snap that he wasn’t Crowley’s angel, he wasn’t Crowley’s anything. This was their first date, and Aziraphale did not want to die in a car crash.
“I… I don’t think I shall survive this evening.” Aziraphale stuttered, his stomach feeling sick.
“You’ll be fine.” Crowley's voice came out almost annoyed.
The Bentley screeched to a halt in front of a restaurant, tires skidding just slightly as Crowley brought the car to an unnecessarily abrupt stop. Aziraphale let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his fingers still dug into the door handle as if his life depended on it.
“See? Made it in one piece,” Crowley said smugly, draping an arm over the wheel like he hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes treating traffic laws as mere suggestions.
Aziraphale swallowed thickly and forced a weak smile. “Yes. How… miraculous.”
With shaky hands, Aziraphale fumbled with his seatbelt, unbuckling. When he finally managed, he all but stumbled out of the car, taking in great gulps of air as though he’d just surfaced from drowning. Crowley slid out with far more ease, locking the Bentley with a casual flick of his wrist before sauntering around to meet Aziraphale on the sidewalk.
Crowley led the way inside the restaurant, this time actually holding the door open for him. Aziraphale smiled weakly, warmed slightly by the first kind gesture he’d been shown all evening.
Inside, the restaurant was a chic, upscale place with golden lighting, promising an evening of fine dining and polite conversation. At least, that was what Aziraphale hoped for.
The host greeted them at the front desk and showed them to a table. Crowley sat down immediately, making no move to pull out a chair for Aziraphale. Aziraphale huffed softly to himself before seating himself with practiced grace.
“Can I start you, gentlemen, off with some drinks?” The worker asked.
“We’ll have some wine.” Crowley waved flippantly to them, sending them off.
Aziraphale felt Crowley was a bit rude to the employee, but wine did sound nice.
Tension hung in the air as they stared at their menus. Crowley tapped his fingers impatiently on the table till the waiter returned, pouring them wine.
“I think I’ll need some more time with the menu,” Aziraphale admitted shyly, unable to make up his mind with all the deliciously sounding options.
Crowley groaned, sounding almost annoyed. The waiter nodded and left them.
“Well, I think this was sweet of Deirdre and Arthur to set this up for us,” Aziraphale commented to Crowley. “I’ve often let slip how I… don’t want to be alone forever.” He blushed slightly.
“Look, angel. I don’t know what they told you about me, but I’m not looking for something serious. I don’t really do dates, but Arthur pressured me, so, you know…” He trailed off.
Aziraphale blinked, caught off guard. “Oh.”
“I’m sure you’re a great person.”
Aziraphale nodded, his heart sinking.
“Besides, kind of embarrassing getting set up by someone else,” Crowley commented into his wine. “Look, we can still enjoy the dinner, right?”
“Right.” Aziraphale perked up with slight hope.
“Maybe have a shag back at my place after.”
“What!” Aziraphale startled at Crowley’s bluntness.
“Or we could talk about boring old philosophy books or whatever you’re into.” Crowley waved flippantly.
Aziraphale scoffed at him. “Deirdre did not tell me that you are a completely and utterly rude person.”
“It’s my charm.” Crowley offered an almost annoyed smirk.
Aziraphale bristled. “You know what! I think I would much rather be at home with a good book than here on this disastrous date with you.”
“Thank god.” Crowley breathed.
Aziraphale got up. “I don’t know what Deirdre and Arthur were thinking.”
“Me neither. It’s not like we have anything in common or would ever be compatible.” Crowley hissed.
“I think I’ll be taking the bus home.” Aziraphale marched off in a huff.
Deirdre and Arthur received Aziraphale and Crowley’s calls moments apart, both bemoaning the terrible date and saying the same thing: “Just make sure I never have to see him ever again.”
Unfortunately, the pair had to continue seeing each other as Deirdre and Arthur became more serious. Aziraphale acted as a man of honour for Deirdre opposite Crowley for Arthur. Then the pair decided to have kids. About nine months later, there was Adam. Then there was a baby shower, and both men were named Godfathers. Aziraphale felt so honoured, though alarmed that they trusted Crowley that much to name him. Meanwhile, Crowley felt mostly confused.
Some Time Later
Aziraphale was sitting quite content in the Youngs’ backyard on a warm summer’s eve, chatting away with Deirdre. They were having a small celebration for Adam’s first birthday. The affair was simple, relaxed. There were balloons tied to the fence posts, and a modest picnic spread. The boy was playing with some toys on a blanket on the ground before them. He hadn’t started to speak or walk yet, but he was happy almost all the time and giggled loudly when Aziraphale blew raspberries into his chubby cheeks.
“Deirdre, look who arrived,” Arthur announced, walking over.
Aziraphale jolted in alarm in recognition of Crowley. He was even wearing his damn sunglasses; he seemed to never take them off, much to Aziraphale’s chagrin.
“Crowley.” Deirdre got up to hug him, but Crowley slunk out of it.
“Here, a present for the little spawn.” Crowley shoved a soccer ball into Deirdre’s hands.
“Oh, Crowley, Adam’s a bit too young… You know what, I’m sure he’ll love it.”
“Where is he anyway?” Crowley looked around as if expecting the boy to be running about.
“Right here, Crowley.” Arthur picked the drooling babe up. “Adam, say hello to your uncle Crowley.”
“Oh, how… cute.” Crowley awkwardly patted the boy’s head like they were a dog, clearly uncomfortable around the babe.
Aziraphale scoffed, rolling his eyes, turning away.
“So, is there booze at this event or…?” Crowley questioned.
“Crowley, it’s a baby’s birthday.” Arthur chuckled as if amused.
“So that’s a no then?” Crowley grumbled in annoyance.
“There’ll be cake if you stick around. Please do.” Deirdre said warmly.
Arthur spotted someone and pointed them out to Deirdre. Deirdre got up to welcome the people with Arthur and Adam in their arms.
Crowley’s head turned to Aziraphale then, seeming to note him for the first time. “Angel.” He nodded in a curt greeting.
“Crowley,” Aziraphale replied just as curtly into his glass of punch.
“I’m just going to go get some punch.” Crowley motioned to the refreshment table.
“Please do,” Aziraphale muttered in reply.
Deirdre returned to her chair beside Aziraphale shortly, with Adam on her lap. Aziraphale glared at Crowley scooping out some punch for himself.
“Glowering is not a good look on you, Aziraphale,” Deirdre spoke.
“I just don’t know why you guys keep him around. I’m actually useful. All he does is drink and sleep with people.” Aziraphale grumbled to her.
“Oh, come on, Aziraphale,” Deirdre spoke gently. “He’s not that bad. And he’s Arthur’s good friend. You two should try to get along.”
Aziraphale huffed indignantly. “I don’t think it’s possible. But I will remain polite.”
“You always do.” Deirdre smiled back with a slight smirk.
/
Adam’s first birthday seemed to be going well, if Crowley were to judge from the shrieking of small, little demons running about. Crowley didn’t get it, kids. He didn’t get it as they all started singing “happy birthday” around a cake to some fucking one-year-old. It wasn’t like the kid was going to remember this anyway, so what was the bother? Crowley just hoped it was good cake.
When Deirdre finally started passing out slices, Crowley took his with a muttered thanks and immediately shoved a bite into his mouth. Fuck, it was really good cake, absolutely wasted on a baby. Crowley shoved more into his mouth.
Aziraphale was sat beside Crowley, looking his usual prim and prissy self, arrogant and self-righteous. He thought he was so much better than Crowley with his schooling and proper job, like owning a book shop was some big fancy thing. God, Crowley couldn’t stand him. The man was practically swooning over his own slice of cake, making soft, appreciative noises as he took delicate forkfuls.
Crowley arched a brow to him. “You enjoying yourself there, angel?”
Aziraphale flushed and wiped his mouth with a napkin, ignoring Crowley.
Meanwhile, Adam was well and truly covered in frosting. Everyone was cooing, seeming to think Adam was the cutest thing ever. Crowley really, really didn’t get it.