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The city seemed like the perfect place for a demon. Cities were renown as places susceptible to sinners, full of everything a demon could take advantage of. For Crowley, petty mischief became easy. It being easy meant it got boring quite quickly. Further, it was no use moving locations because most if not all cities were exactly the same. Making hornets chase park-goers was only entertaining the first twenty or so times and gluing heads-up pennies to the sidewalk only evoked mild entertainment. Crowley, instead, opted to entertain an angel who subsided in one of these cities, enjoying Aziraphale’s scolding after causing minor inconveniences to others around them.
Angels are known to be able to feel love, much like a sixth sense. Aziraphale had argued about feeling it once when they had ridden in Crowley’s Bentley through the very much empty woods before promptly hitting a biker. He was almost thankful for the interruption. A similar concept, as demons were once from the same stock, Crowley could feel desire. It wasn’t like Aziraphale’s ability to feel pure and unfiltered love, the feeling of desire had many shapes. It was mostly for earthly things: lust, greed, jealousy. These detections were everywhere in cities, almost overwhelmingly so. This almost caused Crowley to leave just because of how annoying it got knowing every human’s wants in a 20 mile radius. A certain angel was the one to make him stay (or rather convinced him not to leave by simply existing). Even lounging in the bookshop, Crowley would periodically detect a sense of desire pass by from time to time from humans walking about. It was similar to having notifications permanently on for a busy chat that would blow up one’s phone every hour of the day. After a while, Crowley was able to manage it, adapting to ignore the weaker detections to become background noise amongst all the other senses he had to bear.
Every so often, the demon would sense extreme bouts of desire, a wave that would almost knock him off his feet from its strength. You would assume that being on the earth from the beginning would make one more resilient to these senses, especially with the mass population of humans. It would happen sometimes, making Crowley almost trip or cause his body to tense at the overwhelming sensation. He sensed it similarly to how one gets the chills or a sense of foreboding. It would usually pass, resulting in a sigh of relief. Despite being the original temptress of Eden, Crowley saw no use in having this ability. It was usually difficult to detect which human the feeling was coming from, especially difficult when there were groups of them and all feeling varying degrees of some sort of desire. It wasn’t like Crowley could do anything about it either, or maybe he just didn’t care much. Humans desired many things he couldn’t help with even if he wanted: money, love, power, life. The demon saw no point in indulging any humans of these things, it was rather more fun to irritate said causes to momentarily distract himself and the humans of these urges.
After a few centuries in Soho, the detected feelings became almost invisible, pings of detection only distantly registered by Crowley, similar to the noisy traffic near the bookshop.
Those feelings became difficult to ignore when the horsemen were reawakened, making Crowley’s head feel like it was going to explode with the amount of sensory input it had to deal with. He recovered after the Not Armageddon, taking a much needed rest in his flat for a few days after the swap and tricking their sides. He eventually got his mind back in order, grateful for making the space of his flat a ward to block those detections-the liveliness of the city almost unbearable when he had first moved in. Once recovered, he finally decided to visit Aziraphale for another celebratory dinner.
They had chosen The Ritz again, Aziraphale beaming as Crowley got them their designated spot. They ended up talking about anything the two had missed while apart after the swap and Crowley’s long nap.
“Needed a rest after that one. You’re lucky, angel, you didn’t have to feel every human’s emotions increased tenfold when those Horsemen came about,” Crowley grumbled as he took a sip of Champagne.
“I apologize, but what was it that you were able to ‘feel’? I don’t believe you’ve ever told me about this,” Aziraphale’s eyes filled with curiosity.
“Have I really never told you?” Crowley looked over at his angelic counterpart. “Surely, I’ve complained at least once,” He mused, resting his chin in his hand as he thought.
Aziraphale hummed, thinking too. “I think I would remember that,” He finally answered, awaiting Crowley’s explanation.
The demon sighed, hands moving to his lap as he leaned back in his seat, eyeing the bubbles dancing around in his glass.
“I believe it’s different for other demons, but I can sense desire, wants. It’s irritating because desire is such a broad concept as to where every human that exists has it,” Crowley complained, fidgeting with the base of his glass.
“Kind of like how you can sense love, mine’s just more annoying,” He sighs, taking another sip.
Aziraphale thought for a moment, predictably formulating a question.
“So, it’s always there? Is that why you complained about your head hurting the other day, dear?” He asked, curious, worry seeping into his tone at the last part.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s usually more annoying than painful, in all honesty. It was just too much with celestial influence,” He swirled his glass in thought. “Would that be celestial, or supernatural. What would they count as?” Crowley vocalizing his string of thoughts.
Promptly ignoring his bout, Aziraphale hummed.
“Thank you for telling me, dear. I cannot imagine what it would have been like,” He spoke sincerely before taking a sip of his own flute of Champagne.
“You tell me, I didn’t even know I could get a headache,” Crowley huffed unhumorously as he took a swig of his own drink.
“It’s usually manageable, but every once in a while I’ll get this,” He motioned with his hands, stretching them outward, “massive wave of just,” Crowley threw his hands out. He then imitated the sound of an explosion as he leaned back in his seat once more.
“Almost knocks me over,” Crowley comments, adjusting his shades absent-mindedly.
“Humans,” He muses, ordering another glass of champagne.
“Yes, humans,” Aziraphale says, realizing he had in fact caught some of those moments Crowley had mentioned.
Crowley had been missing for a decade or two, reappearing after Aziraphale had finally given Crowley the holy water he had requested, ensuring the container was tightly sealed and hopeful that it would not be used for the reasons Aziraphale avoided thinking about. He had almost let out a sigh of relief at encountering the familiar demon, once again having changed his style.
Crowley had grown out his hair slightly to style in a layered sidepart. He wore a gray button up with black leather trousers and matching leather jacket that stopped just above his waist. Aziraphale thought his pants couldn’t possibly become any tighter than the previous decade’s as the demon approached him in the café.
“Hello, angel,” He almost smiled, taking the seat across from the other. His shades had also changed to a pair of more square shaped lenses.
“It’s good to see you again,” Aziraphale softly smiled, scared he had frightened the familiar face away with their last argument.
“I would be lying if I didn’t say the same,” Crowley admitted in a bout of honesty. Aziraphale smiled more brightly, closing the book he had been reading.
“Up to trouble, I assume,” Aziraphale took on a familiar, teasing manner.
“Something like that,” Crowley grinned, secretly delighted to be back in the angel’s graces.
“Say, I might have obtained a bottle of Sherry from that distillery you liked a few decades back,” He leaned forward, smiling nervously, afraid he was, as Aziraphale had stated, moving too fast.
“That sounds delightful, dear,” He smiled sweetly, causing the demon to almost sag in relief.
“Bookshop?” Crowley asked as he moved to stand.
He nodded as they headed across the street, Crowley beside him before they approached the storefront to politely open the door for him.
“Thank you, dear,” He beamed, entering first as Crowley slipped in second.
The shop was just how Crowley remembered it, moving to the couch as Aziraphale obtained some crystal glasses for them.
Crowley snapped his fingers, materializing the bottle in air before catching it gracefully in one hand. Aziraphale took the bottle as it was handed over, using a miracle of his own to chill it before pouring each of them a glass.
“I thought you preferred anything else,” He spoke, handing a glass to Crowley.
“Wanted to try something new,” He replied, sitting down again as he removed his shades.
Crowley had managed to smuggle an extra bottle or two, the pair wanting an excuse to remain in the others’ company as they chatted.
The demon had been animatedly telling a story about how he had to evade a demon sent to check on him when he accidentally bumped an object off the end table in his motions.
“M’bad, I got it,” Crowley turned around and leaned off the edge of the couch's arm to retrieve the nearby item.
Aziraphale’s eyes could not avoid the unignorable tightness of the demon’s pants as he bent over, staring intently. In his defense, they left little to the imagination.
Something caused the demon to jump, unceremoniously losing his balance and falling over the edge of the couch and onto the floor. Crowley groaned, laying there for a few moments.
“Didn’t have that much to drink,” He spoke behind the couch before sitting up and gracefully retrieving the fallen item, returning to his seat.
“Are you alright, dear?” Aziraphale asked, regaining his composure.
“M’yeah, blame whatever forces are at play,” the demon murmured vaguely as he took another sip of sherry.
“Y’know, this isn’t half bad,” Crowley nodded, motioning to his glass.
Aziraphale had witnessed these bouts of jumpy behavior, chalking it up to ‘Crowley being Crowley’. A week or so had passed once Adam had restored Aziraphale’s bookshop. Crowley had opted to inviting the angel over once more, seeing as he had been over to his place a few times already.
Aziraphale entered the familiar flat, Crowley leading him into what could pass as a living room. It had a leather couch, a modern coffee table and a flat screen tv. A stack of books sat on the table, neatly piled with tabs sticking out of the pages, most likely notations. The angel smiled at this, noticing most of the books were from himself.
“I’ll get these out of the way for you,” Crowley offhandedly muttered, leaning down to pick up the stack, afraid to miracle them away.
Crowley’s shirt he had added to his recent wardrobe had a few buttons at the collar, meant to be decorative as he left them undone, the shirt already a bit loose on him. When he bent forward in front of the angel, it allowed a direct view down said shirt of his chest, if not for the briefest moment.
The demon jumped, eyes widening as he almost dropped the books. He looked around hurriedly, confused as he fixed the pile in his hands before looking down at the angel in front of him.
Aziraphale smiled innocently, eyeing Crowley curiously. The demon’s eyebrows furrowed as he placed the books down onto another table out of the way, gears visually turning in his head until he placed the pile down. He froze, slowly turning to face the other once more.
The angel observed him, puzzled as to his odd behavior as Crowley approached him again, plopping down onto the couch next to him. He cleared his throat, reaching for the flatscreen’s remote.
“So, have any films in mind?” Crowley asked casually, deciding to test his theory.
They ended up watching a film adaptation of a book Aziraphale had spoken about a few weeks ago, pointing out discrepancies between the text and the movie as it went. Crowley watched, deciding to put his theory to the test.
He kicked his feet up onto the coffee table in front of them, moving closer to Aziraphale as they watched. Crowley relaxed his posture.
He leaned in, closer than necessary to Aziraphale’s ear as he kept his focus on the screen. “Wasn’t that one supposed to be blonde?” He asked, a new character appearing in the next scene.
Crowley felt an unmistakable jolt of energy coming off of the angel, making him lean back in surprise at its strength. With the jarring emptiness of the flat, the sensation felt like an explosion, similar to what he had felt before numerous times and assumed it was some human passing by the bookshop. He sat back against the couch again, mind running through every possible emotion as he processed the discovery. Aziraphale must have said something and expected a response as he had turned to face Crowley, eyeing him with slight worry.
“Are you feeling alright, dear? Do you still have that headache?” He asked softly.
“No, no. I warded the place to block out the noise,” Crowley replied, still reeling.
“You did?” Aziraphale made a sound of approval, “most impressive.” Another wave of desire almost knocked the air out of Crowley’s lungs, making him sputter.
“ Angel , I hate to say this but you know I can feel that- it’s,” the demon shook his head, unable to describe how strong the desire felt in the empty room.
“Feel what?” he asked innocently, making Crowley finally face Aziraphale with an incredulous expression.
“I know you know, angel ,” he spoke, accusatory as he furrowed his brows, noting the other’s lack of eye contact as he tried to regain his composure.
“Whatever do you mean?” Aziraphale continued, cheeks rising in color as he realized he’s been caught.
“Oh you know what I am referring to,” Crowley leaned closer, only making the angel shrink back as he pointedly avoided looking at him.
Aziraphale steeled himself, gaining his bearings as he faced the demon once more.
“Then I’m sure you remember that one conversation from the other night? When you hit Miss Device?” He raised a brow, this time making Crowley back off.
“Despite your adamant denial of my observations, you do realize I can sense your feelings as well?” the angel leaned forward, making Crowley shrink back.
“Now, angel, you know that could be anyone. Probably those lovebirds next door,” He countered, trying to make more space between them.
Aziraphale tugged on his sleeve, keeping him in place.
“I can feel the perimeters of the ward, Crowley. There is no other source I can sense,” He added calmly, making the demon squirm.
“Demons don’t feel love, you must be mistaken,” He weakly counters as he leans away, nerves on edge as he pulls back.
“And angels don’t feel desire and yet you said you could sense it too,” Aziraphale sighs, smirking as he finally lets go of Crowley’s sleeve. “You’re not a good liar, dearest,” He leans back, leaving Crowley to make the next move.
The demon groans, glaring at the ceiling as breathes through his nose, looking at Aziraphale who was pretending his ring was the most interesting thing on Earth.
The angel’s eyes light up, as Crowley gazes at him, making him turn to face the other. Aziraphale beams, gleeful as his body almost jitters with energy.
His expression makes Crowley’s corporal heart stutter, blood rushing to his face.
“Don’t make me say it, angel,” He mutters, looking away.
A wave of desire gets thrown his way, almost startling him out of his moping, his head snaps up to face the angel, eyes wide as he faces its source.
Aziraphale chuckles, amused by Crowley’s reaction.
“Is it that strong?” He asks shyly, face alight as he watches the demon’s response.
“Very,” Crowley answers breathlessly, unsure as they step into new territory.
Aziraphale muses, unsure as he takes a breath, “I believe it’s always been there, it’s become so familiar that I failed to recognize it for so long,” He speaks openly, eyes distant in thought.
Crowley slowly realizes what the angel meant, jaw clenching shut as he looks away, face burning. “I didn’t- that was-” he stammers out, processing the angel’s words.
Aziraphale chuckles, “my dear, I believe we’ve already been over this,” he smiles, eyes full of adoration.
Crowley presses a fist against his mouth in thought, the most embarrassed he’s been in centuries.
The angel reaches for the other’s hand, caressing it softly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned that. I have told you before, I just assumed,” He spoke softly, scared he might frighten Crowley off again just as he’s done before.
He sighs, feigned annoyance as he gently takes the angel’s hand. “I s’pose that’sss what I get for messing with you,” Crowley muttered, unable to keep the nervous hiss out of his voice.
“Can’t say you’re wrong, dearest,” Aziraphale chuckles, stroking a thumb over the other’s hand.
Crowley finally looks up, slightly defeated, a shy smile spreading across his face.
“How about we pretend this conversation didn’t happen,” His voice lighter, raising his brows in question.
“I’d say it’s a bit too late for that,” Aziraphale smugly answers, making Crowley dramatically groan, unable to prevent the smile on his face.
The angel takes his hand and raises it close, kissing the back of Crowley’s hand affectionately. Aziraphale beams, taking in Crowley’s baffled expression.
His eyes widen and his face starts to burn at the angel’s almost casual motion, looking away as Crowley fears the ground swallowing him whole.
Aziraphale only chuckles at that now flustered demon, allowing the other some time to regain his bearings as they sit in comfortable silence, enthusiastic for the future.