Work Text:
A cocked eyebrow. A twisted mouth.
‘You don’t dance.’
A fact. Indisputable.
He’d not danced for a very long time.
____
1941
‘The Ritz, Angel? You don’t think this is a bit, well, upmarket for us?’ Crowley scoffed, ‘or maybe just for me, you’ll fit right in.’
Aziraphale’s face crumpled affectionately, ‘you’re wearing a suit my dear, you’ll fit right in.’
A mumble that sounded very much like ‘not your dear’ fell from the demon’s mouth, and was ignored by the angel, who stood there with hands clasped and eyes shining as he looked up the sign on the front of the building.
‘The Ritz!’ He turned to face Crowley, ‘oh, even the name screams glamour. And Crowley? They have plenty of alcohol, so I’m absolutely certain you’ll find something to enjoy.’
‘I’m picking the venue next time. It’s a nice building though, I suppose. Maybe.’
Aziraphale clapped a hand on Crowley’s arm, beaming, and the demon couldn’t help but smile back at him. Well, smirk sarcastically. It still counted.
They crossed the street, approaching the entrance where a waistcoat wearing greeter was on hand to triage arrivals.
‘Welcome to the Ritz, gentlemen. You’ll be wanting the basement I presume? It’s through that corridor and the stairs are on your left. Have a lovely evening.’
Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other, both mouthing ‘basement?’, and the demon shrugged, nodding his head in the direction the greeter had indicated.
Aziraphale slipped his outer coat off, and hung it over his arm as they walked down the hall, eyes wide as he took in the extravagant decor.
‘Isn’t it beautiful?’
Crowley grunted a non committal noise before he increased his strides, and soon reached the head of the stairs.
‘Mind how you go.’
He looked over at Aziraphale, who had reached a hand towards him, ‘hm?’
The angel dropped his hand, ‘oh, the stairs. Just- be careful, they look rather steep.’
‘You worry too much.’
‘Yes well, I-’
Crowley smiled, dimpling his cheek, ‘come on, let’s find this alcohol you mentioned.’
They both descended the stairs, Aziraphale slightly behind, and pushed open a heavy wooden door at the bottom.
It opened into a moderately sized room, a bar along the back wall. Small round tables were scattered around what was presumably some type of dancing space, a few couples swaying to the music that floated through the air. The lighting was dim, most of it emanating from halogen bulbs above the bar, and flickering candles on the tabletops.
‘Find us a seat, would you? I’ll get the first round.’
Crowley didn’t wait for an answer before he was sauntering towards the bar, heads turning as he swept by the other patrons.
A whisky for himself, a sherry for Aziraphale, and he turned, eyes sweeping over the room to ascertain where the angel had sat.
It didn’t take him long, even in the low lighting, Aziraphale’s aura glowing as bright as the halo that he knew lay hidden under the white hair.
He cursed his dark glasses as he weaved in and out of the other tables, stopping just short of where Aziraphale was sat, his back to the demon. He was gently swaying to the music, fingers tapping absentmindedly on the tabletop. Crowley studied him for a moment. It wasn’t often he just got to look. And Satan forbid that Aziraphale ever caught him staring.
He swallowed down the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, and stepped towards the angel, placing the glasses down on the table.
‘Sherry alright?’
Aziraphale’s eyes lit up, ‘splendid, thank you Crowley.’
‘Prices here are worse than Hell.’
‘It’s a lovely place, isn’t it?’
Crowley sniffed, placing his hat on the table, ‘s’pose. Got a certain… rustic charm.’
‘Rustic, Crowley? Really? It’s elegant, it’s beautiful, it’s-’
‘Ostentatious.’
‘Hm,’ Aziraphale pursed his lips, then took a small sip of his drink, eyelids fluttering shut, ‘oh this is divine Crowley, good choice.’
Crowley slumped in his seat, fingers digging into the flesh of his thigh, ‘dunno, I just pointed at the bottle.’
‘Don’t be a brute.’
He scoffed, pulling a face that could only really be described as childish.
‘Really Crowley, let’s just enjoy the evening. It’s curious though, isn’t it?’
‘What?’
Aziraphale leaned over the table, placing a hand on Crowley’s arm.
‘The chap at the front door, he directed us down here, I wonder why?’
The demon laughed, a short sharp sound that was harsher than he had intended.
‘You not figured it out yet Angel?’
Aziraphale frowned, looking around himself, then returned his gaze to Crowley, shaking his head.
‘Alright, you can have a clue. Look at all the couples in here, notice anything peculiar?’
The angel looked around again, eyebrows raising as the realisation dawned on him.
‘They’re all-’
‘Same sex, yeah.’
‘Which means-’
‘The guy at the front assumed we were, well, together.’
Aziraphale sat upright, ‘well, that’s just absurd. Us? Together?’
‘Alright, you don’t have to be that disgusted by the idea.’
He breathed out through pursed lips, head slumping down, ‘no, Crowley, I merely meant that we don’t exactly look like we belong together.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Well, yes. We’re complete opposites, and-’
‘I get it. Whatever,’ he swigged the last of his whisky, and wiggled his glass at Aziraphale, ‘your turn.’
‘Oh. Yes, quite right. Won’t be a tick. Same again?’
Crowley nodded, then his eyes followed the angel’s departure until he was out of sight, disappearing into the crowd at the bar. He swept his gaze over the rest of the room, sighing quietly. His defence mechanism of sarcastic humour was out in full force tonight, as it always seemed to be around the angel. Aziraphale didn’t make him nervous, not as such, just- flustered.
Which was exceptionally uncool for a demon.
He blinked back to his senses, then spotted Aziraphale who had not quite made it back from the bar. He was talking to a gentleman, who had his hand on his- the angel’s arm.
Shaking his head, Crowley got up from his seat, and ambled over to them, appearing at Aziraphale’s shoulder. He glared at the other man, who dropped his hand from Aziraphale’s arm.
‘Angel, I’m dying of thirst over here, I was wondering where you’d got to.’
‘Oh don’t be dramatic, I was just approached by Jonathan here who wanted to know where I’d got my bow tie from.’
‘Hm. Hello Jonathan.’
The name slid out of Crowley’s mouth, falling off his tongue as if it were poison.
The other man inclined his head, eyes wide.
‘Come on Angel, or we’ll lose our table.’
‘Right, of course. Jonathan, pleasure to meet you.’
Crowley turned away before he could bear witness to the smile that he couldn’t stand seeing being directed at anyone but himself.
They returned to their table, and settled back into their seats.
‘What was that all about?’
‘What was all what about?’
‘You crashing into the conversation I was having.’
‘He had beady eyes, looked suspicious.’
Aziraphale frowned, ‘don’t be- are you jealous?’
Crowley scoffed, rolling his eyes despite the fact that the angel couldn’t see them, ‘course not. That’s ridiculous.’
The angel regarded him, holding his glass just in front of his mouth.
‘Right.’
‘Right? What is that supposed to mean? M'not jealous.’
‘No, I believe you.’
‘Right.’
They both sat back, Crowley slouching, Aziraphale ramrod straight.
Silence engulfed the table, as if a plastic dome had been placed over them. The music and the chatter of the bar was now merely a muffled jumble of noise as the two ancient beings stared at each other.
Crowley cleared his throat, ‘your drink ok?’
‘Fine. Thanks.’
‘Hm.’
Aziraphale’s attention kept drifting towards the couples on the dance floor, the expression on his face halfway between nostalgic and yearning. That glimmer his eyes got when he was looking at something particularly heartwarming. The soft pursing of his lips that delicately creased his chin. The subtle knitting together of his eyebrows that wrinkled his forehead just the tiniest bit-
Not that Crowley had studied his face before.
He swallowed, then put on his ‘nonchalance’ mask, and spoke with a voice that might have been the smallest bit too hoarse, ‘you alright Angel?’
‘Oh!’
Aziraphale looked back at Crowley, those glistening blue eyes stopping his heart for just a second before it pounded back into his chest, a crashing drum beat of adoration that the angel must have heard-
‘Just fine, absolutely- dandy. Hm. Yes.’
‘Hm. Yes.’
Crowley immediately regretted the sarcasm that had dripped from his words as he watched the angel’s expression close off, his back somehow straightening even more, jaw clenching.
The demon sighed then leaned forward, flicking his eyes to the dance floor, ‘you wanna-?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Well, I just wondered, seeing as you keep looking over there and everything, nothing weird, just friends - are we friends? - you know, if you wanted to, well-’
‘Crowley, are you trying to ask me to dance?’
Indignant spluttering erupted across the table as the demon choked on the sip of whiskey he’d almost inhaled in an effort to calm his nerves.
‘You know angels don’t dance.’
‘Did you hear that Angel?’
He frowned, ‘what?’
‘That was the sound of my eyebrows hitting that inexplicably intricate ceiling up there.’
Aziraphale rolled his eyes, ‘sometimes I don’t like you very much.’
‘Didn’t think you liked me at all.’
‘Quite.’
Crowley placed his drained glass back down on the table and stood up suddenly on knees he was begging wouldn’t betray him, ‘come on then.’
Aziraphale looked up at him, eyes wide, ‘you were serious?’
‘Course I was. Come on, it’ll be- fun, I guess.’
‘Your enthusiasm astounds me dear.’
But Crowley knew from the relaxing of his forehead, and the ever so slight downturn of the edges of his mouth that it would only be a matter of time before-
‘Well, why not?’
Crowley smirked, holding his hand out towards the angel.
Aziraphale stared at it for a beat before reaching out to take it and standing up, allowing himself to be lead to the centre of the room.
They positioned themselves a suitable and respectful distance apart, Crowley’s hand holding Aziraphale’s out to the side, the other resting on the angel’s waist.
Aziraphale looked up at him, those damned eyes shining, then placed his own hand on Crowley’s shoulder.
‘Have you- ngk, have you ever done this before Angel?’
‘I flirted with the gavotte a few decades ago, but never- well, I’ve never-’
‘Yeah.’
Crowley swallowed, then slowly started to move his body in time to the gentle music, desperate not to appear clumsy or lanky or-
‘Relax dear, you’re doing fine.’
A choked noise that definitely wasn’t a small scream fell out of Crowley’s mouth as he realised that Aziraphale had not only spoken to him, but had stepped closer, his hand lying heavy on the demon’s shoulder, the heat from it seeping into his bones.
‘Pfft, you’re the amateur here, Angel.’
Aziraphale raised his eyebrows, ‘your quite frankly abysmal hand positioning says otherwise my dear.’
‘Oh sorry, did I miss the judging panel when we came in?’
‘Really, sarcasm is most unbecoming.’
Crowley waggled his eyebrows, ‘is this how you flirt Angel?’
‘You’re the one who asked me to dance.’
‘Touché.’
They fell silent then, Crowley finding a very interesting spot on the opposite wall to stare at as they appropriated movements that might be construed as dancing, if that’s how you chose to see it.
A soft exhale from Aziraphale ghosted across Crowley’s cheek, and then their chests were practically touching and Crowley’s thoughts were just a maelstrom of ‘help’ repeated a million times, swirling round and crashing into each other until it was just an overwhelming hum of wasps that must have come from hell and now they were stinging him and-
‘Crowley?’
The soft voice caressed his ears like a dock leaf on your arm after you’ve brushed a nettle, that first cool breeze from an opened window after a rainstorm, the heat from the sun on a day that you don’t need to open your eyes to know how beautiful it is, the-
‘Crowley.’
‘Uh, yeah- what?’
He glanced down, once more grateful for the sunglasses hiding the wistful and soft look in his eyes.
‘You stopped moving.’
‘Hm, right, yes. Need to move- to, uh, to dance.’
‘Quite.’
Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, his jaw tense, then brought their clasped hands to his chest, the hand on his shoulder sliding round to the back of his neck.
Another splutter and quick short circuit later, Crowley had regained enough of his wherewithal to move his right hand to the angel’s lower back, almost - but not quite - daring to pull their bodies closer together.
Aziraphale hummed softly, his eyes half closed, swept away in the rhythm of the music.
Crowley had never seen anything more beautiful.
He leaned his head down, his lips millimetres away from Aziraphale’s ear, and murmured, ‘temptation accomplished.’
The angel gasped, drawing a wry smile from the demon.
A muffled voice rose from somewhere near Crowley’s jaw, ‘you fiend.’
‘You love it Angel.’
‘Hm.’
‘Hm.’
The air grew thick around the pair, thousands of years of unspoken words and unshared feelings becoming almost tangible, and soon even their movements became sluggish, the atmosphere heavy with repressed emotions and unjustified guilt.
Crowley pressed his cheek to the side of Aziraphale’s head, the pillow soft hair pressing delicately against him.
‘Angel?’
‘Hm?’
‘I-’ he sighed, ‘I’m enjoying this.’
‘As am I, Crowley. Perhaps we should-?’
He pulled his head back, and those blue eyes were looking unfairly bright in the dim light, searching for an answer he knows he can’t give.
‘Angel-’
‘I’m being foolish, I know.’
Crowley moved his hand up to splay on Aziraphale’s back, then pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes.
‘Not foolish Angel.’
A whispered ‘forgive me’ and then Aziraphale’s lips were pressed to his, Crowley’s world was turning on its side, their hands felt like they’d been welded together and then it was over before it had even really started, the angel spluttering an apology and backing away from Crowley, practically running out of the room.
He felt a dozen pairs of eyes boring into him, whispering behind hands, sniggering following him as he snarled and followed after the angel, already knowing he’d lost him.
____
He’d not danced for a very long time.
A fact. Indisputable.
A cocked eyebrow. A twisted mouth.
‘You don’t dance.’
With me.