Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Through the eyes of the typical, average human, everything seemed completely normal. Those with an eye for the weird and unusual, or an appreciation for horror movies and ghost stories, may notice an unexplained event from time to time. Those practicing witchcraft or other occult rituals knew what was really going on.

Demons were living among the humans. They had always been there, coexisting together. A slow hum of demonic magic was common, especially in densely populated areas. If you knew about demons and their magic, it was quite obvious. Humans weren’t supposed to know about them or their magic, according to the demons. However, most demons weren’t exactly smart.

London was always buzzing with varying levels of demonic magic. It just depended on the neighborhood you were visiting. Demons on earth were typically low-level workers, simply carrying out their orders. Their tasks were simple. Persuade humans toward evil. Manipulate them toward chaos. And if they found a particularly gullible target, they would offer up immortality in exchange for their soul. It was the standard way to make more demons.

The system had been in place for centuries. Converting humans used to be done through ancient rituals that involved multiple steps and elaborate, powerful magic. Now, it had been reduced to a flick of a wrist and some mumbled words. Everything the demons did was done without much thought. Their efforts seemed rather lazy and pathetic. The demons acted complacently and egotistically, believing the Earth belonged to them and feeling superior to humans. From the demon’s perspective, people were simply there as a source of entertainment and to increase their population.

Crowley was a demon who lived among the humans on Earth. However, his situation was quite a bit different. He wasn’t a low-level worker, and he was not a stereotypical demon. Crowley just happened to like Earth, and he liked the humans. The city of London was where he currently chose to live.

Crowley was one of the first demons to exist. That first group of demons helped set up the foundations of Hell. As an angel, Crowley had been a creator, so his skills were invaluable in the early stages. He helped them establish methods to classify demons by their abilities. And that laid the foundation for turning humans into more demons.

As Hell progressed, the elders were elevated to command over the demon masses. The hierarchy was set because the original demons had previously been angels who lost their angelic powers. Crowley helped Beelzebub in their efforts to rule over the demon masses, but he had zero interest in being in charge. He helped them establish methods to classify demons by their abilities. And that laid the foundation for turning humans into more demons. Humans needed a lot of training to learn and use demonic magic, but they would never be as powerful as the elders. These demonic systems were set thousands of years ago. But now, the human and demon populations had far exceeded their expectations, and it had become an administrative nightmare. But that’s another story altogether.

Crowley had been regularly spending time on Earth to study and document the humans. He was fascinated by them, and he rather liked them. He learned about farming and agriculture. He watched excitedly when they discovered they could tell time by observing the stars in the sky. He liked to think that if he were human, he would really enjoy being what they called a “scientist.” He loved learning new things and asking questions, and researching to find the answers. Once Beez noticed he was so preoccupied with the humans, they let him live up there permanently. He would be reachable if needed, but he was pretty much left on his own to do whatever it was the humans were doing. He wasn’t a good fit in Hell anyway. Always asking questions. He wasn’t very good at being evil. And more specifically, he didn’t have any desire to harm humans, which was a bit of a problem since corrupting and converting humans was how the demons grew their population.

The thing with being a demon that coexisted with humans is that he wasn’t really able to build any lasting relationships with them. They weren’t supposed to know he was a demon. So when he did interact with them, he had to use a disguise, a form of vanity magic to make himself appear more human. But as an immortal being, he didn’t age, meaning he couldn’t spend time with them for very long, or they might start to wonder about him. Eventually, he’d have to invent a story and relocate himself.

He spent the majority of his time working on his own research, documenting what humans discovered and applying it to his own magical abilities. He learned early on that he really loved plants. He observed how humans grew specific plants as a food source. He knew which plants grew best during particular seasons, and what flavors complemented each other. He had gained a small hobby in cooking. As an immortal being, he didn’t need to eat. However, he found that his human friends got offended if he was offered food they had made, and he refused. He also learned that well-made human food tasted wonderful. And while he enjoyed many meals with various people, he found he enjoyed cooking too. The process of creating something from scratch, simply because he wanted to, and enjoying the results. It was fascinating.

Over the last few centuries, he had honed his magic and discovered that basic human objects made effective magical focus points. Humans had evolved into diverse societies and cultures in various parts of the world. Crowley used his magical objects as ways to travel easily around the world. He could transport directly to them. It also allowed him to visualize the immediate surrounding areas. He could observe the humans nearby and learn without needing to be physically present.

These things kept him busy, as he learned what he could about humans, plants, and food. But also about human interactions. He had seen when powerful humans disagreed, causing conflict, initiating hatred, and leading to war. He sadly learned about famine and disease. He witnessed personal moments among families and friends. He also learned about intimate moments between lovers. And while all of this fed his curiosities, what it ultimately spelled out for him was that he was desperately alone. He longed to experience the kind of connections he witnessed among the humans.

He had occasionally entertained the flirtations from humans. Sometimes, he took advantage of using his vanity magic when he needed companionship or a sexual release. He’d pose as a human to find a mate for the night. It never fulfilled that piece he felt was missing from his life, but it held off those lonely feelings for a little while.

He’d long since given up finding real companionship. He simply didn’t fit in with the demons in Hell. And as an immortal being, he knew he would never find someone among the humans. Their lives were simply too short. He often thought this was why he loved his plants and cooking. It allowed him to bring something to life all by himself. And he was pretty good at it.

—---

Crowley was always curious to learn something new. So rather than always enchanting his own items, he would sometimes put a spell on an item that he knew would have lasting power, and possibly give him some interesting insights at the same time. One of the early items he enchanted with magic was a 19th-century leather armchair. It had belonged to a high-ranking member of parliament living just outside of London. By utilizing his magic, Crowley had been able to observe this man pass certain laws, remove problematic politicians from power, and influence key business deals to shift the economy in his favor. He learned about political strengths and hierarchies in government. Crowley disagreed with this man on most of his choices, but he noticed what happened when he messed up and how his people were affected. He didn’t use his magic to change anything, just simply observed. He did relay what he learned to Beez to help her organize the administrative roles in Hell. It seemed to help at the time. He may have also mentioned how manipulative and evil he was, ensuring that a demon would come to visit him when the time was right for him to be removed.

After the official’s death, the leather chair was purchased by an artist. Crowley found him especially intriguing. At first, he was just an understudy, painting portraits and figures for practice and small commissions. As he developed his own style, he would experiment with erotic portraits and positions that were outright obscene. Those paintings never left the studio, but Crowley enjoyed observing the process. Crowley himself had tried art over the years, but it never came easily to him, and he found that frustrating. But he could definitely appreciate beauty when he saw it. The artist got himself mixed up with a questionable group of people. He painted his friends and acquaintances as subjects, giving in to lust and indulgence. The artist died young of a drug overdose, and Crowley was genuinely disappointed. He’d been enjoying watching those sessions.

The leather chair remained in the artist’s family and was passed down through generations. Though no one particularly liked it, they kept it as a family heirloom, but left it tucked away in an attic. For decades, it sat unused, which was fine because Crowley didn’t particularly need it at the time.

Meanwhile, human technology grew exponentially. This caused Crowley to be more creative and adapt to keep up. Previously, he relied on his magic to “see” his items and listen and observe what was going on around them. If something caught his interest, he would travel there in person but remain hidden with magic. None of that was needed anymore. Humans invented multiple new forms of communication. First over radio waves and telephones, and then broadcasting using screens. More recently, he had been fascinated with all the innovations in computers. By observing some rather intelligent college students in their Ivy League study sessions, he learned the basics of how these new computers worked. He used his own magic to modify an existing surveillance program and project the view from his enchanted objects on screen, mimicking a human security setup. It was really quite simple once he figured out how everything worked. Over the years, many of his enchanted items had been lost or destroyed. He no longer needed them. Human populations had grown so much that traveling and transportation were much simpler now. Only a handful of items around the world still had his old enchantments in place.

Recently, the family that owned the old leather chair had been preparing to move overseas and had cleaned out their house. The old chair, deemed too cumbersome to ship and still not particularly wanted, ended up in the back of a thrift shop on the outskirts of London.

Crowley felt the shift immediately. He always knew when one of his enchanted pieces was tampered with or moved, even the dormant ones. With the chair now in transition, it was vulnerable and unprotected. He returned his attention to it more closely until it found a new permanent home.

—---

Aziraphale was the proud owner of an antique bookshop, tucked away on a small side street in the Soho section of London. His shop had been his sanctuary, built up over the last two decades to be exactly what he wanted. It smelled of old paper and wood, and a slight hint of sweetness, likely due to his fondness for baked goods. The bell above the door chimed softly, encouraging customers to speak quietly. He lived in the flat just upstairs, surrounded by more books and his collection of well-loved trinkets and furnishings. It was, by all appearances, a life of quiet contentment.

But beneath the surface, Aziraphale felt desperately alone. He had always been a romantic, an idealist who had read too many love stories and believed, perhaps foolishly, in the kind of grand connection that could change everything. The type of romance that would make his heart ache and soar all at once.

The trouble was, he didn’t really believe it could happen to him. He was raised in a strict religious household, and he'd spent years suppressing his feelings. When he realized he was gay, he felt mostly shame and fear. He was insecure and kept those feelings buried deep down as much as he could. He was middle-aged now and had become very adept at molding himself to please others.

Though he would never admit it out loud, he often felt invisible. He didn’t mind the solitude, but deep down, he longed for someone who would see him, truly see him, and still want to stay.

It was a Saturday afternoon. Aziraphale had been out for brunch and antique shopping with his close friend Anathema. It was a pleasant way to spend his weekend, and these trips often rewarded him with unexpected trinkets and treasures to add to his ever-growing collection.

On this particular Saturday outing, they happened to discover Crowley’s chair.

It sat quietly at the back of a cluttered little shop on the edge of Camden, half-buried beneath a crooked stack of unwanted furniture. The moment Aziraphale laid eyes on it, something shifted. It wasn’t particularly extravagant. Its leather was worn and faded in places, with brass studs dull from age. It had an old-world character that newly made furniture simply didn’t have. He was already picturing it in the back room of his bookshop, nestled under a lamp, waiting for him with a good book and a steaming mug of Earl Grey.

“Oh,” he said softly, stepping toward it. “Isn’t it marvellous?” He began shifting the other furniture aside to get a closer look.

Anathema scrunched up her face, trailing behind him. “That thing? It looks like it’s about to cough up a ghost.”

He chuckled, brushing his hand along the armrest. The leather was surprisingly soft beneath his fingers. It felt almost warm and somehow comforting. “It has character. They don’t make chairs like this anymore.”

“That’s because this one’s haunted,” she muttered.

Ignoring her, he lowered himself into the seat.

The connection was instantaneous.

Aziraphale settled into the chair with a deep sigh, as though his body had been longing for this particular spot his entire life. His eyes fluttered closed for the briefest of moments, a strange warmth rising in his chest. He was surprised by how comfortable it felt, as if the chair was accepting him. A little weird, but it felt soothing.

“Oh, this is perfect,” he said more to himself than to Anathema.

From elsewhere, Crowley stirred.

“O-ho, I like this one,” he murmured to himself, his eyes fixed on the monitor showing the chair inside the dusty thrift shop. The man sitting in his chair was elegant in an understated way. Soft around the edges, with a long beige coat and a pale head of curls. Crowley watched as the woman accompanying him perched awkwardly on the arm of another chair beside him. Her facial expression was not positive.

“No, Az,” she said, rising quickly. “We can find something else. You don’t need this one.”

But Aziraphale had already made up his mind. “Oh, but I rather think I do.”

He got up and walked around it. Running his hand fondly along the back of the chair, as if caressing it.

Anathema continued trying to dissuade him, muttering about getting “bad vibes” from the chair and the energy being “off.” Aziraphale ignored her protests.

The shop owner, a balding man in an oversized jumper, shuffled over and gave them a crooked grin.

“Oh, that? S’been sittin’ back there for ages. Came in with a load of old furniture from a house clear-out. The family said it was an heirloom, claiming it might be cursed if you believe that sort of thing.” He chuckled. “Nothing’s ever happened with it, though. Not that I’ve seen.”

Anathema looked vindicated, with her arm extended toward the chair. “See?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. Cursed furniture? Honestly.” He turned back to the shopkeeper. “Has anyone else shown any interest?”

“You’re the first since we brought it in. Most people walk straight past. But if you’re serious about taking it off my hands, I’ll knock a bit off the price. Just to clear the space.”

Despite Anathema’s increasingly vocal protests, Aziraphale agreed. He arranged to have it delivered to his shop the following week. As he signed the paperwork, he felt a strange excitement building in his chest.

Crowley was absolutely delighted. His long-neglected chair had found a proper home again. No longer out in the open where any curious magical being might stumble across it, but tucked away safely in someone’s home. A bookshop, no less. This was ideal.

When the chair arrived, Aziraphale had it set up at the back of his shop, near his desk in the private room where customers weren’t allowed. It was a perfect fit, with a small side table placed beside it, a stack of well-loved novels, and a tall floor lamp that would cast a warm, golden glow overhead.

It was now his reading nook, just for him.

He had no idea he was no longer alone.

—---

The first time he had a spare evening to himself, Aziraphale tried out his new reading nook. After locking up the shop, he eased into the worn leather armchair tucked into the corner of his office. He’d made a cup of tea, picked up one of his favorites from the pile beside him, and began to read. The worries of his day slowly dissipated as he relaxed and dove into the story. He took a sip of his tea, mentally thanking himself for purchasing this chair. “This could be a new evening ritual,” he thought. He happily continued reading.

Crowley was alerted the moment the chair was occupied. He perked up immediately. He quietly observed the new owner of his chair. He had pale, blonde curls, soft features, a well-fitting waistcoat, and a tartan bow tie that was untied and hung loosely around the collar of his well-pressed shirt. This man had a unique and particular sense of style. It made Crowley pay closer attention. He was definitely attractive. Soft lines, a wide chest, broad shoulders. He shifted in the seat, turning a page, and crossed his legs. The angle of the light emphasized his top leg and his wide thigh. Crowley was getting the impression that he was deceptively strong.

He needed to put a stop to those thoughts before he got carried away. This was their first real interaction, and he’s objectifying him like a piece of meat. Sure, Crowley found him attractive, but that didn’t matter. He needed to use this time while this man was actively using the chair to figure out who he was.

He leaned forward, focusing his magic and started to feel around inside this man’s mind to see what he was working with. He was careful not to press too much. He had wanted to observe, not influence or persuade him. Crowley could sense some surface impressions as he peered into his mind. Some general fatigue, definitely a strong sense of curiosity and intelligence, some distant longing, for what, he didn’t know.

Crowley was lost just watching him on the screen. He’s adorable. Crowley thought to himself. This was going to be dangerous.

———

Two days later, Aziraphale came back to his reading nook. Crowley knew before Aziraphale even sat down. He’d been not-so-patiently waiting for the opportunity to learn more about him.

This time, Aziraphale brought a few biscuits with his tea. He was humming under his breath, something tuneless and happy. He lowered himself into the chair with a soft “oof” and pulled a thick book into his lap. He flipped to somewhere in the middle. Crowley didn’t get a glimpse of the title, but he did flip past some illustrations. Crowley guessed this was a fantasy book. He leaned back, folding his arms behind his head, and let the connection between them deepen.

As Aziraphale read, the magic link between them yielded a little more. Crowley caught glimpses of memory and mood, sudden flashes of thoughts and emotions, as they related to the story he was reading.

A pang of loneliness when a character in the story stared wistfully out at the sea. A sharp, unexpected guilt when the narrator spoke of missed opportunities. A hollow ache when the main couple in the story embraced one another.

Unexpectedly, a jumble of memories surfaced that Crowley could see very clearly. A boy, small and wide-eyed, hiding in a school library, pretending not to hear the jeers from the next aisle over. An older child with familiar features was shown from above laughing, not kindly, as the boy cowered away from him. Fear and shame surrounded two older, faceless figures. Crowley wondered if these were memories of his family.

He flinched at the realization of what he had just witnessed. It was more than he expected, but it didn't deter him. If anything, it pulled him in. That guilt and fear were translating into something more complex. He’d made assumptions and wondered if he’d gotten some of it wrong.

“He’s not just kind, he’s… good,” Crowley murmured to himself, watching Aziraphale turn a page, unaware of the invisible eyes on him. Crowley sat back, mumbling to himself. “His heart is pure. There’s no evil. No corruption despite those memories.” Crowley was now questioning himself and his intentions. He wanted to learn everything he possibly could about this man. But what did that mean?

Crowley had only ever used his magical objects to learn about humans in general and to make traveling easier. But there was something different about this beautiful man. Crowley was very obviously attracted to him, but he knew that was just biology. It had been quite a while since he had these thoughts about anyone, though. And here was this wonderful person sitting in his leather chair, for Crowley’s viewing pleasure.

Crowley wondered how much he could use his magic through the chair. Could he communicate directly with him? What would that even be like? He’d only ever used these items as a lens. Observation only. One way. He never tried to influence or persuade humans like the other demons. The most he did was read their minds when they didn’t offer up the information he was searching for. I guess that’s a little manipulation, but it wasn’t like he was forcing them to commit crimes or something.

And this lovely man did not deserve to be tampered with. Crowley made up his mind that night. He would learn what he could and see where that path took him. But the days continued, and he hadn’t returned to the chair. Crowley was growing a little desperate. He really liked this man. One evening, he had even dreamed about him. It had been a long time since he was so preoccupied with a single person.

A week passed. The chair remained empty.

Crowley kept checking his screens, more often than he cared to admit, hoping for some input from the chair in the bookshop. He got bored waiting one night and used his magic to change the books on the side table. He wasn’t trying to influence him, really, but he wanted to test the waters a little. A bit of personal curiosity. See how he might react, and see if Crowley’s attractions might have any chance at being returned.

When the connection finally pinged back to life, Crowley nearly tripped over himself getting to his monitor.

Aziraphale settled in much later in the evening than on his previous visits. He looked tired, with a hint of dark circles under his eyes. He was smiling, though, carrying a large mug of hot cocoa. After getting himself comfortable, he glanced at the pile of books. He realized they were all tales of romance. He didn’t remember placing those there. But he didn’t really mind. He came here to relax and unwind from his day. He picked one up and started reading.

Crowley was excited to see how this played out. He liked him and wanted to know more about what he liked too. He thought this might be a way to send his mind in that direction.

To his surprise, the effects started almost immediately. Aziraphale visibly blushed as the characters in the story playfully flirted with each other. But he didn’t stop reading. Crowley was giving him his undivided attention. He didn’t want to miss a thing.

He turned the page. Hold up. We’re getting to one of the steamy scenes in the book. Crowley felt the shift. He could see the man was getting flustered as he read. A quick flash, and his mind flashed back to an old boyfriend. Some sadness and heartbreak there. But the important information here was that the vision in his mind was a man. This man was gay.

Crowley was getting into this emotional unraveling when the blond abruptly snapped the book shut and got up from the chair.

“Wait. Shit. Where's he going?”

Crowley’s view was now of an empty chair. He couldn’t see very far beyond his magicked items.

Crowley sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Bloody hell.”

Without thinking, he impulsively broke one of his own rules and transported himself to the leather chair. He crouched down behind it while he got himself situated. It took a few moments to adjust to the spatial differences after transporting. He was out of practice.

He cast a cloaking spell, making himself invisible to human eyes. Slowly, he straightened up and took in his surroundings. The bookshop was warm, cozy, and inviting. It smelled pleasant. He could smell the cocoa from the mug nearby. He heard footsteps upstairs. That must be where he went.

Being a demon, Crowley could transport himself anywhere. He snapped his fingers and reappeared on the second floor, precisely above where he’d been standing. It seemed he was now in the kitchen of this man’s apartment. There was some mail thrown on the table, and he glanced down. It was addressed to a Mr. Aziraphale Fell.

Crowley froze for a moment. Aziraphale. That’s an angel’s name, and not a common one. And not a name he expected to find among humans.

A sudden thud and the sound of footsteps brought him back into the moment. The reality that he was snooping in this man’s home, while he was there. He strengthened his cloaking spell just in case. He needed to stay invisible.

He listened to the footsteps travel down the hall and into the bathroom. The shower water turned on. Following his crazy, impulsive brain, Crowley slowly and quietly followed him into the bathroom. Thankfully, he hadn’t closed the door. Crowley slipped inside just as Aziraphale stepped into the tub and pulled the curtain closed.

I’ve already made it this far. What’s a little more?

Crowley used his magic to levitate himself up to the ceiling, where he could get a better view. Looking down from above, he watched Aziraphale wet his hair and face, sighing deeply as he ran his hands through his wet blond hair. Then, with another heavy sigh, he leaned a bit forward, placing one hand against the wall under the showerhead. The other hand reached down to stroke his erection with slow, careful pulls.

Crowley’s eyes grew wide with excitement. So this is why he left the chair.

Floating above, Crowley watched him intently. Aziraphale’s body was beautiful. He looked solid but with a soft outer layer. Crowley could see the muscles shifting in his arm and back as his rhythm increased. He was moaning to himself and making little needy sounds that were music to Crowley’s ears. He was facing the wall, so Crowley couldn’t quite see, but the view was still very appealing.

Aziraphale’s hand started moving faster. His breath hitched, making a deep guttural sound. A quiet “Oh, fuck!” turned into a raw, primal growl, “Ungghhh,” as he climaxed, spraying thick stripes on the tiled wall in front of him.

He caught his breath, and his body noticeably relaxed. He splashed water, rinsing off the wall. He turned around, leaning his back against the cool tile. Thankfully, his eyes were closed as he relaxed there against the wall. Crowley was salivating at the delicious view in front of him. His spent cock was long, thick, and beautiful, and it took Crowley an excessive amount of energy not to simply materialize into view and suck him off.

Crowley stopped himself. Shit. Shit. Shit. He had to get out of there.

He shouldn’t be in this man’s apartment, let alone watching him have a wank. With a snap of his fingers, Crowley vanished, transporting himself back home.

The shift in the atmosphere caused a slight gust of air - barely noticeable, but just enough to make Aziraphale open his eyes and see the shower curtain flutter. He peeked around the curtain. Everything looked normal. His towel was neatly folded on the counter. The window was still closed.

“That was… odd.” Oh well, he needed to finish his shower and make something to eat.

Back in his apartment, Crowley’s demon brain was going into overdrive. He was full of lust and desire, and wanted nothing more than to rub his naked body all over that gorgeous blond man. But that’s not going to happen.

He ignored the situation in his pants and opened his laptop. He needed to find out who this man was. Crowley started searching the personnel databases in Hell for an “Aziraphale Fell”. To his surprise, nothing came up.

He was quite adept at using the tracking systems in Hell. Since he’d helped set things up, he could bypass the typical areas and access the more restricted records, including those in Heaven.

He checked there and found him immediately. It turned out that his initial impression was correct. Aziraphale was that pure a human. He’d never done a bad thing in his life. Plenty of bad things were done to him, sure. But he just… tolerated it and carried on.

Crowley was shocked. He’d never come across anyone with zero information listed in Hell. Most humans had some dark secrets, even if they were “good people” on the surface. And to Crowley’s surprise, this made Aziraphale seem even more attractive. Crowley was definitely in danger here. He wanted to fuck him, sure, but he also wanted to meet him. He wanted to see what would happen if they interacted with each other without interference. No spells. Well, the vanity magic he had to do, but besides that. He wanted to talk to him. Could he do that? Is that allowed?

His brain continued on overdrive, thinking about everything Aziraphale, and he got very little sleep that night.

—---

Crowley had been thinking about Aziraphale for a few days now. More accurately, fantasizing about him, and that vision of him in the shower, played the starring role. So when Aziraphale sat in his chair for the first time in 4 days, Crowley was honestly rather horny. Impulsively, he tried his book trick again. It worked brilliantly, and he was just so attractive. He wanted to make Aziraphale happy, to bring him pleasure. Or try to anyway.

This time, the books on the side table were not romance novels but erotica. Aziraphale was definitely suspicious, but picked one up anyway and began reading. He was quickly flushed and visibly flustered once the story turned intimate. As it continued to get into the extremely detailed descriptions, he started rubbing himself through his trousers.

Crowley was giving him his full attention, extremely turned on himself, and hoping for some mutual participation. He had his own cock in his hand, watching Aziraphale touch himself.

Aziraphale unfastened the belt and zipper to loosen his trousers. He forced his hand down into his underwear and palmed his hard, leaking cock. He shuddered at the skin-to-skin contact and let out a deep moan. Crowley, watching, was really getting into it. He imagined that he was the one touching Aziraphale, and that Aziraphale’s hand was his own. He said out loud, “You feel amazing.”

Aziraphale felt encouraged by the fantasy in his mind. “Oh god, yes. You feel amazing, too.”

Crowley stopped abruptly. He wasn’t thinking clearly. Oh fuck, he can hear me.

He typically didn’t interact with humans this way, but he knew logically that the magic allowed his voice to be projected to the person sitting in the chair, and whatever he said could be “sensed” in their mind as if it were their own thoughts. This was a demonic way to influence and manipulate humans, but that wasn’t his intention. He just wanted Aziraphale to feel good (and not walk away this time).

Aziraphale roughly pushed his trousers down his thighs, freeing his cock. He licked some saliva onto his palm and wrapped it around his shaft again. Now it was pulsing and glistening with every pull of his hand. Crowley was overwhelmed with desire at the view on his screen.

Crowley couldn’t help the words that came out of his mouth. “You're so big… and beautiful.”

Aziraphale played along with the fantasy in his mind. “Mmm, yeah, you like my big cock,” his hand was moving faster.

Crowley replied in a loud moaning, “Fuck yyeesssss.”

Aziraphale was really getting into it. His hips were shifting in tandem with his fist. His cock was now dripping with precum. He grunted his words, timed with each thrust. “Oh. Fuck. Yes. Let me fuck you with my big. Fat. Cock.”

“Yesss.” Crowley was very close to coming all over himself. “Please, give it to me, wreck me with it.”

Aziraphale murmured, lost in his thoughts. “Good boy. Take it all.”

Within moments, they were both grunting and moaning until they came within seconds of each other. Aziraphale’s shout drowned out the sound of Crowley’s, and his mind was a bit fuzzy.

When Aziraphale came down from his post-orgasmic high, he was confused more than anything. Yes, he occasionally enjoyed self-pleasure, but it was once a month, if that. Now he’d come twice in just a few days. This evening was particularly powerful, and his fantasy seemed so real in his mind. He couldn’t help but wonder if it had anything to do with the chair. The shopkeeper had said something about it being cursed. But that was simply ridiculous. Although he didn’t remember putting those specific books there. The one tonight was downright pornographic. Was something weird happening?

He got himself dressed and cleaned up. As he was going about his evening, making dinner, eating, cleaning up, and getting ready for bed, he couldn’t get the thought out of his mind. What if it is the chair? It’s the only thing in his life that changed recently. He’d heard and read about unexplained things happening, and supposed proof of “magic” before, but had never come across them personally. He couldn’t figure it out.

Later that evening, he was in his pajamas getting ready for bed. He decided to test his theory in his own way. He always reads before bed. But this time, instead of reading in bed, he put on his slippers, went down to the backroom of the bookshop, and sat in the leather chair to read. He brought a book from upstairs along with him. He made sure all the shop curtains were closed, and only turned on the lamp next to the chair.

He sat down and started reading. For about 20 minutes, he read his book, and nothing happened. He continued a little more, and still nothing. He thought to himself, This is just silly. There was nothing wrong with the chair. It was not cursed or haunted or whatever. He closed the book, placed it on his lap. He looked around his empty room.

Before he could get up, he heard, or felt, or sensed a voice, “Wait, don’t go.”

He looked around, and the room was quiet and dark. He was alone. No one said anything, but he heard it, he thought. Or did he?

He said out loud, quietly to the room, “Hello?”

He got no response. He looked around the room again. “Is someone there?” He waited a few moments. “Tell me what’s going on. What is this?”

Crowley was freaking out. He shouldn’t talk to him like this. He already broke his rules once for this man, and that was clearly a mistake. He cannot reveal himself. This is against all kinds of demonic protocols. But Aziraphale returned to the chair again that same night. Crowley was so happy he forgot what he was doing and blurted out Don’t go. Fuck. If this all goes pear-shaped, he’s going to have to erase his memories and release the magic link to his chair.

Wait, he asked me a question. He’s going to leave if I don’t answer.

Aziraphale was waiting and getting impatient. He started counting to ten in his mind before he went up to bed. He heard another thought, “Please don’t be scared.”

Confused again, he sat up straighter and looked around. But surprisingly, he was not scared at all. He answered out loud, “I’m not scared. But who am I talking to? Why are you only in my thoughts? Tell me what’s happening.”

Crowley took a deep breath. He was going to have to wipe this poor man’s memories. He knew it. But not right now. Right now, he had to explain himself. And he would not lie to this pure-hearted kind man. He deserved to know and not be played with like some kind of toy.

Aziraphale heard a noise that sounded like a sigh. And then quietly in his thoughts, he heard, “There’s a spell on the chair so I can communicate with whoever sits in it. That’s why you can hear me. It’s not haunted.”

With a skeptical tone, he said, “So the curse is real?” Aziraphale paused and looked down at the chair, gently touching the arm. “How can you cast a spell? Are you like a wizard or something?”

“Let’s go with… or something.”

“Can I talk to you in person?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please?” Aziraphale’s plea was desperate. His voice elevated. “You’ve obviously seen me in quite a state earlier. I demand to know the meaning of this.”

“You’re right. Ok. But … just give me a moment.”

Crowley was scrambling. He didn’t want to lie. He wanted to tell him the truth. How beautiful and perfect he was. But he’d also have to confess to invading his privacy, and he was ashamed of that.

Crowley quickly looked himself over and made sure he looked ok and not like a hot mess. Good enough, he thought.

With a snap of his finger, he materialized in the shadows at the back of Aziraphale’s shop. It made a cracking noise, and Aziraphale flinched at the sound. The lights were off except for the lamp by his chair, and Aziraphale could only see a dark silhouette of a thin person a little taller than himself appear out of nowhere.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Aziraphale.”

“Y- You’re not going to hurt me, are you?” His voice quivered with fear now that there was visibly another person inside his shop.

Crowley sighed and spoke softly. “No. I would never hurt you.”

Aziraphale was a little reassured by his calm voice. The same one from his thoughts earlier. “Do you mind if I turn on the light? I’d like to see you.”

“Uh, sure, go ahead.” Crowley braced for the impact of what was to come. It was never good to reveal himself to a human. It never ended well.

Aziraphale stood and slowly walked to the wall to turn on the light switch. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see, but it was not the figure standing before him. The man was long and lean, wearing all black with a loose silver tie around his neck. He had short, impeccably styled red hair and an angular, pale face. He had on dark sunglasses. At night. Inside. Which was a little weird.

Now fully seeing him and realizing that there is actually another person in his home, he was on high alert. “How did you get in here so quickly? Who are you? What is happening?” Aziraphale’s voice cracked, and he was obviously getting anxious. His face was clouded with uncertainty and fear.

Crowley took a step towards him, but hesitated, not wanting to make it worse. He put his hands up. “Shhh, it’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you. I can explain.”

Aziraphale took a few calming breaths. They both stood staring at each other in silence.

Crowley spoke first. “Are you alright?”

Aziraphale felt mildly better but not completely. “I think so. But I need an explanation.”

“May I sit down?”

“First, tell me how you got into my house, popping out of thin air.”

“Ok, that’s fair.”

Crowley shuffled uncomfortably. He was breaking all his rules. He was ashamed of himself. Was this man worth it? He initially thought so, but now he wasn’t sure. This was harder than he thought.

“So, there’s no way to sugarcoat this. Um. I’m a demon.”

Aziraphale’s eyes grew wide in surprise, but he waved his hand, indicating he should continue. “Go on.”

“Demons can do magic. See?” He lit the tip of his finger on fire as if it were a cigarette lighter. He blew it out. “I enchanted this chair many years ago, and it hasn’t been used for a long time. So when you bought it, I paid attention.” He looked down and shuffled himself. “This is harder than I thought.” He laughed a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I think you’re beautiful, and I took advantage of my abilities to watch you. I’m really, really sorry to invade your privacy like that. I promise it will never happen again.” He looked away, ashamed of himself.

Aziraphale was quiet for a long moment. It felt like forever, but it was probably only a few minutes while he processed this new information.

He responded shyly and reservedly. “You think I’m beautiful?”

Crowley was shocked. He confessed to invading this man’s thoughts, watching him in a very private moment. Now, he invaded his home, and that’s what he focused on? He couldn’t believe it. And he couldn’t hold it in.

He was astonished. He blurted out, "That's your question?”

Aziraphale blushed at first, but then turned apprehensive. His anxiety turned into an overflow of words he couldn’t stop. “I have a million questions, but that... That’s something I’m not used to. I know what I look like. I’m nothing special. But you’ve spoken only a few sentences to me, and one of them is that you think I’m beautiful? I feel like I’m hallucinating. Are you even real? Is this some kind of prank? Am I a joke to you?”

While Aziraphale was talking, Crowley slowly started walking towards him. He’d only been a few steps away to begin with, but soon he was within touching distance. A few inches from him. He seemed to register Crowley’s closeness at the same moment he tentatively reached out his hand.

Crowley needed to reassure him. He reached out and placed his hand gently on Aziraphale’s forearm. Aziraphale gasped in shock at the touch, but didn’t pull away. The touch was soft and at the same time electric. Crowley felt alive and warm and wanted to be closer to him.

Crowley spoke quietly in what he hoped was a soothing voice. “Aziraphale, I’m completely real. This is not your imagination. And I do think you’re beautiful.” He looked down and was met with sparkling blue eyes, the color of the sea. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” He wanted to grab him and kiss him and touch him everywhere. But he had to control himself. This situation was very delicate, and he didn’t want to frighten Aziraphale further.

“I-I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll agree to a conversation. Let me explain things better. I promise you aren’t in any danger. I won’t hurt you.”

“Somehow, I believe you. I mean, this is all pretty strange, but I’m not scared.”

Crowley smiled back at him. It was a novel feeling. He didn’t smile that often anymore.

“I don’t typically spend my nights down here in the shop. If you don’t mind, could we chat in my living room upstairs?”

“Sure, lead the way.”

He turned away to turn off the lamp by the chair, releasing his arm from Crowley’s grip. Crowley hoped that wasn’t the last time he would get to touch him.

He watched Aziraphale walk over to the doorway. He turned around and spoke to Crowley. “Steps are over here. Come on.” Crowley followed with a dopey grin. He couldn’t believe this. He thought for sure this was going to blow up in his face. That he’d have to get rid of the chair and his connection to this man forever. But here he was physically in his home. Being invited in further.

Aziraphale turned the light switch off as they walked by and started ascending the stairs. He took a quick look back, unsure of himself but still not afraid of the man behind him. He wanted to know more about him and figure out what was happening and what all this meant.

Crowley was still in his state of surprise when his demon brain took over. Aziraphale was ascending the stairs a few feet in front of him, wearing thin tartan pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. This meant that, with each step they ascended, Crowley’s face was just about eye level with Aziraphale’s deliciously round arse. Fuck he wanted to reach out and bury his face in it. Bite it. Touch him everywhere. His heart rate was going up, and his pants were getting tight as his cock responded to this new information.

Luckily, the hallway was dark, and Crowley was dressed in all black, so he hoped Aziraphale wouldn’t notice. He tried to think of anything else to calm himself down. When they got to the landing, Crowley was surprised when Aziraphale turned and grabbed his hand. (They were holding hands!!!) He pulled him into the living room and said with a smile, “The couch is right there, why don’t you have a seat. I’m going to get a glass of water. Can I get you anything?”

“Yeah, sure, water’s good.”

He released his hand and went through another doorway toward the kitchen.

Crowley sat down. He was having a mental meltdown, trying to tell his cock to behave. This was a very delicate situation as it is. He’s been invited into this man’s home for Satan's sake.

Aziraphale came back to the room with two glasses of water and placed them on the table in front of the couch. He sat down next to Crowley. Not close enough to touch, but closer than Crowley expected him to. This wasn’t helping his nerves. They turned a little to face each other.

“So, what’s your name?”

Ah Fuck. Crowley didn’t even introduce himself. God, he’s such an idiot.

“My name is Crowley.”

“Only one name? Like Madonna or Cinderella?”

“Well, when I interact with humans, my full name is Anthony J. Crowley, but normally I just go by Crowley.”

“That sounds so weird, ‘when I interact with humans,’” Aziraphale giggled to himself.

“Well, I don’t do it very often, and I’m breaking all kinds of rules just by showing myself here.”

“Why did you then? Show yourself here, I mean.”

“I felt like I had to. I’m sorry about earlier. Really. It was wrong of me on so many levels to invade your privacy like that.”

“Crowley?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?”

“No. And if my memory is correct, you were quite enjoying yourself too.”

Crowley blushed a deep red and looked utterly embarrassed. Aziraphale gave him a smug, flirty smile. “Something about wanting my big cock?”

Crowley belted out a huge laugh, “Ha! Well, I’m not going to deny it. But I kind of lost myself in the moment.”

“I’m glad it seemed to go well for both of us then.”

“Yeah, it definitely did.” They both smiled.

Crowley looked at Aziraphale now with some surprise, wondering how this man was real and how this situation was turning into something that wasn’t a complete disaster.

“Well, now that we’re past that embarrassing situation…” the smug smile on his face again. “I need you to explain to me what’s going on here.”

“Honestly, I don’t know where to start.”

“Why don’t you tell me about you and how you’re connected to my chair?”

“Yeah, alright.” he paused and took a drink of water.

“I’m a demon, like I told you. Originally, I was sent to work here on Earth to research humans and their behaviors for Hell.”

“Hell is real?”

“Yep,” he said, popping the p.

“What’s it like?”

“Oh, you’d hate it. It’s gross and smells bad, and most demons are hideous creatures.”

“Present company excluded.”

Crowley couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed on his face. “Sweetheart, flattery will get you everywhere.” He winked at Aziraphale.

“But yeah, besides that, I’m not really sure. I don’t go down there much anymore. I’ve been living up here on Earth for the last few centuries.”

He noticed Aziraphale wringing his fingers together. He seemed a little more reserved and nervous.

“What? You look nervous. Spit it out.”

“I wanted to ask you something, but I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Listen, Aziraphale, I literally threw myself into your life just now. You can ask me anything in the world. It won’t be rude. I’m honestly surprised you are even talking to me.”

“H- How old are you?”

“I’m not really sure. Demons are immortal. I mean, we can be killed, but not by natural causes. I’ve been around since near the beginning of time. But I was an angel before I fell and became a demon. So, I don’t think my age would translate into human numbers. What else do you want to know?”

“Is this what you always look like? Do you have a demon form or… I mean, you look very convincing as a human.”

“Thank you for that, it’s good to know I can still pass as a human.” He smiled a sincere smile. “I can change my form and appear like different types of humans to blend in, man, woman, young, old, change my hair or my skin tone. But this is the human look I prefer. So I’m happy you seem to like it. As for your question about a demon form, there are many different types of demons, and I’m a snake demon. So, I have some snake-like features, I guess.”

“Really? That’s amazing,” Aziraphale’s face was full of wonder and curiosity. Crowley was beside himself.

“You mean you’re not scared or disgusted or…”

“Oh heavens no, this is fascinating. Could you show me?”

“Show you what?”

“You know, snake Crowley?”

“Well, I can turn into a snake, but I haven’t done it in so long. I don’t really want to. Having arms and legs is pretty convenient.” He laughed.

Crowley held up his hand with his fingers splayed out. Gradually, the skin on his fingers and the back of his hand darkened, and a sleek black scale pattern started to emerge. Aziraphale lifted his hand to Crowley’s and rubbed his fingers softly over the scales. They shimmered in the light when he pressed on his skin. Crowley’s mind was blown. He was in uncharted territory with Aziraphale now. He didn’t have a plan for how to continue. He concentrated again, and the scales disappeared, and his skin was back to his normal human color. Aziraphale didn’t let go of his hand, just let it rest between them on the couch.

“Is that your normal skintone? With the scales?”

“No. It’s really only visible in a few places. It’s along my hairline, down my spine. And on my fingers and my feet. It gets darker and more pronounced sometimes.” He trailed off and mumbled to himself, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, you must think I’m some kind of monster.”

Aziraphale held his hand tighter. “No, you’re not. This is amazing, Crowley. What else can you tell me?”

Crowley lifted his other hand and slowly removed his sunglasses. He kept his eyes closed for a moment. This was usually a bad reveal. Something that showed he was a vile creature and proof that he was not human. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He looked directly at Aziraphale and saw his face transform in awe and wonder. His mouth fell open in surprise.

“Oh my god, Crowley, your eyes are stunning!”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh, they’re like a deep golden sunset, they’re so beautiful. Why do you hide them behind these silly dark glasses?” He took the glasses from Crowley’s hand and placed them on the table. He reached up and caressed his cheekbone right below his eye. Crowley instinctively leaned into it like a cat.

Eventually, he found his words. “Um. Thanks. But most people I’ve come across disagree with you. The eyes are something I can’t change to look human. People see my eyes and get frightened or think I’m some kind of mutant. The sunglasses help to hide it. I also have some light sensitivity. The sun is pretty fucking bright,” he laughed to himself.

Crowley couldn’t believe it. He revealed what he was. He showed himself in plain sight. And yet here he is still holding hands with Aziraphale, in his home.

“So what’s the deal with the chair?” Aziraphale asked, while still looking Crowley over with a sense of wonder.

“Many years ago, I learned that humans in different areas of the world were doing different things. They had different tools, different foods, and different environments. They had different political systems. I was trying to learn about all of them. So I started enchanting items so I could travel to different parts of the world more easily. They could also be used to listen in and observe the humans around them. So I could learn things without physically being there.”

“That seems rather efficient. So my chair is one of those items?”

“Yeah, it was a great system, but I don’t need it much anymore. Occasionally, I could use that connection to influence or persuade people near my items to do certain things. I don’t typically use my magic for that, though.”

Aziraphale was strangely quiet and reserved after that explanation. Crowley was picking up on his nervousness again. “What’s your question? I said before you can ask me anything.”

“Did you use your powers to influence me?”

“Not intentionally, no. All I did was give you some spicy books to read because I was curious about what you liked. But I may have influenced you by accident. And again, I’m sorry about that. I got carried away.” He took a breath and tried to gather his thoughts. How best to say this without sounding like a creepy pervert?

“See, for a demon like me to influence someone human, they have to already be willing to do it. To have those evil wants and desires, and I can just sort of make it easier for them to lean that way in their decision. But with you, it wasn’t like that.”

“Aziraphale, you don’t have an evil thought in your soul. You’re kind and gentle, and like your name, you’re like an angel. You have beautiful, soft features and hair like a halo. I was attracted to you that first day I saw you. And having those thoughts and wanting you may have influenced you without my intention. Again, I’m sorry. Are you ok? You’ve been pretty quiet.”

“I think so. This is a lot to take in.” He laughed to himself.

“But Crowley?”

“Yeah?”

“I’d um… I’d really like to kiss you. Would that be -mmphh”

Crowley leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale and kissed him fully on his soft lips. He hesitated a moment before his mouth opened and he let his tongue inside. He tasted so good. His tongue was in Crowley’s mouth, and they were pulling each other closer together.

The kiss broke as they heaved breaths into each other's faces. They were barely an inch apart. Crowley shifted back slightly but didn’t release Aziraphale from his grip.

“Ngk.”

“That was. Umm wow”

“Yeah”

“I’m curious… ”

“Anything. Ask me anything.” Crowley was deliriously happy right now. He’d answer any question he had.

“So, your chair. When I sat in it that first time, I had this strange feeling, and I think that was what made me buy it. I can’t really explain it. It wasn’t just comfortable, it was comforting. Like it made me feel better.” Crowley just smiled as he continued. “And then my friend Anathema was trying to talk me out of it because she was getting weird vibes. And that makes sense because now I know the curse is real. She’s a witch. Or says she is, I’m not sure I believe all of her whimsical theories. But anyway… Sitting in that chair, I felt safe. I am having trouble finding the words to explain it. And now that I know that the source of that is you and your magic… I think it’s from you. Do you know what this means? Or why I feel this way? It's a little overwhelming because I’m not used to it.”

Crowley was astonished. He had never had his feelings of any kind noticed by a human like this or spelled out so clearly. Why was Aziraphale able to feel his emotions and be affected so much? He needed to get a hold of himself and look into this later. But he had to give him some explanation.

“Honestly, I’m not really sure, but now that you’ve told me, I want to find the answer. I mean, I really like you, and I want you to feel safe. And maybe that’s part of it. I don’t know. I feel like I’m drawn to you in a way I’ve never felt before. That’s why I reached out to you tonight. My magic can’t really go too far beyond the chair, but you came back. I didn’t think I’d get to see you again so soon. And I felt horrible for crossing a line earlier, and I had to try to make it right. And Christ, it’s been decades since I’ve spoken to someone for real, and not just for demon shit. I can’t believe it. You keep surprising me in so many ways. You’re really something special, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale just lunged forward and hugged him tight. He felt him shake a little, and his breathing was a little ragged.

“Angel, are you crying? Are you alright? Heyyy, what’s wrong?” He hugged him back and rubbed his back, trying to comfort him. He tucked his nose into his soft hair. Oh, he smelled wonderful, like a warm cup of tea and sandalwood soap. He smelled like home.

Aziraphale lifted his head and wiped an errant tear with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry for crying. I'm not sad or upset. It’s just you were saying such lovely things. And you quite literally fell into my living room not too long ago, and I’m feeling a bit emotional and overwhelmed, as I said.”

“That’s totally understandable. And please don’t be sorry. I want you to tell me what’s wrong. Ask me all your questions. I’ll do whatever I can. This is not something I expected to happen when I spoke to you tonight.”

“What did you expect?”

“Honestly, I thought you’d be terrified or run screaming or throw things at me or possibly try to kill me because I’m a demon. And then I’d have to modify your memories and purify the chair so you’d never be reachable again.” He ran his hands along Aziraphale’s arms, still trying to comfort him.

“I’m so glad that’s not the case. But I have to admit, I’m a bit emotional too. No one has ever said the things you did to me. Ever. In thousands of years. And I can’t remember a time when someone has been curious about me in a way that wasn’t horribly negative. Being a demon on Earth among humans can get pretty lonely. But here tonight with you, I feel like I’m on top of the world. You have no idea.”

“I think I do have some idea. I feel the same way. I have so many questions, and I don’t know where to start. Or how any of this happened, but I don’t want to second-guess things right now. I want to follow my instincts.”

“And what are your instincts telling you?”

“That you are safe. That you care for me. It’s time for bed, and I’m an emotional mess. I’m almost terrified to say goodbye. What if I never see you again?”

“You’re right, I do care for you. And I promise I will be reachable for you at any time. Just sit in my chair and talk to me.”

“Crowley? Before you go, could I ask you a favor?” He looked down sheepishly.

“Anything. What’s up?”

“Could you use your magic and relocate your chair upstairs to my apartment?”

“Definitely. That’s easy. Where do you want it?”

“Oh, I’m not sure. Lemme see.” He looked around his apartment. It was already pretty cramped, full of bookcases, and the couch took up most of the living room. He had an idea and walked back over to Crowley.

“I think I’d like to put it in my bedroom.” His voice changed with noticeable anxiety. “But I am not implying anything. I mean, I like you, Crowley, but I’m not trying to get you into my bed tonight. I- “

Crowley reached out to stop him. “Aziraphale, relax. We just met. I promise nothing will happen. Just show me where, and I’ll help you with the chair.”

He reached down, took Crowley’s hand and pulled him along towards the bedroom. “Come on, it’s this way.”

Crowley followed happily. Aziraphale brought him into his bedroom. He was still a bit anxious but was trying to hide it. Crowley tried to calm his emotions and not overreact to the monumental occasion of being invited into Aziraphale’s bedroom.

Aziraphale walked past the bed and over to the far side of the room. He turned back to Crowley, indicating with his arms as he spoke. “I’m thinking if I move this armoire over a bit, I could replicate the little reading nook here in the corner by the window. The chair could go here, and the table and lamp right next to it. What do you think?”

“Sounds good to me.”

He took a step back from the corner. “Ok, go ahead.”

Crowley waved his hand to Aziraphale, “Come here, closer to me, just to be safe.”

Aziraphale walked over and stood next to Crowley, casually wrapping his arm around his waist. It just felt like the right thing to do. Crowley smiled down at him. “You ready?”

Aziraphale gave an affirmative “Mm-hmm” and nodded.

Crowley lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. A moment later, the dresser slid along the wall towards them. The armoire moved to the left about 2 feet, and the chair from downstairs appeared in the corner with the small table and lamp.

Aziraphale’s face brightened with a huge smile and a sense of wonder. “Oh, Crowley, that's just fantastic. I would’ve had to hire someone to move that up here, and in this old building, that’d be such a pain with the small stairwells and all.” He leaned up and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you so much for doing this.” He walked over to the chair, adjusted the side table a bit, and moved the floor lamp to be a little more behind the chair. He sat down to test it out.

“There, it’s perfect.”

Crowley walked over to him and stood to the side, resting his elbow on the back of the chair. He looked at the room from this new vantage point. He could see the whole room, the bed, the closet, the door to the hallway, and the bathroom across the hall.

“Aziraphale, I have to tell you something. This change may not be what you want.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I explained before how I can kind of see the surroundings of my objects. This new arrangement means I can see you in your bedroom. All the time. I could watch you sleep. I feel like I’d be invading your privacy all over again.”

Aziraphale stood up and wrapped his arms around Crowley’s waist. “Well, that’s part of why I wanted to move it up here.”

“I don’t understand,” Crowley’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

“The last time we interacted on this chair together, it was a pretty intense moment, for both of us, right?”

Crowley couldn’t hide the intense blush that reddened his cheeks as he smiled. “Uh, yeah, it was.”

“Well, I don’t think I want to be doing those types of things in my bookshop. So it made more sense to move the chair up here to have a little privacy.”

“Privacy for what?” Crowley isn’t usually this dense, but he wasn’t following Aziraphale’s meaning. He wasn’t going to have more privacy. He was leaving himself completely vulnerable to Crowley. He couldn’t possibly mean what he thought he meant.

“Crowley, I’d like to see you again. In person like this.” He leaned up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “And maybe we could try something like that again, but you know, together.” He wrapped his arms around him a little tighter just to feel his body close.

Crowley was overwhelmed by his touches. And he was so warm and soft. “A- Are you serious? You want to see me again?”

“Of course I do, don’t be silly.”

“And you’re ok knowing I can see you here? In your room at any time? While you’re sleeping, or doing any other type of bedroom activities?”

“Weirdly enough, yeah. In fact, I kind of like it. You can be my protector and watch over me.”

Crowley felt himself be hit by a wave of emotion hearing Aziraphale say that. He smiled so big that his eyes watered. This was beyond what he thought possible. He couldn’t comprehend this. “Holy shit. I can’t believe it. I promise to always keep you safe, Aziraphale. You have my word.” He thought this was too much. He didn’t understand how Aziraphale could agree to this. “But if you ever want this to stop or just want me to move the chair somewhere else, to have your privacy back, just tell me, OK?”

“Ok, but I’m hoping that won’t be necessary.” He leaned up and kissed him properly this time.

“Thank you for everything tonight, Crowley. For coming here, explaining things, and revealing yourself to me. I know that was not easy for you. My mind is spinning with all this, and I really just want to lie down and go to bed. We can chat tomorrow, right?”

“Of course. I’m always available. And now you know how to reach me.”

They pulled each other into a tight hug.

“I’m so happy I met you, Aziraphale.”

“Me too, Crowley. I hope you can get some sleep, too.”

“Do I … wait, I don’t even need to walk you out or anything. You can beam away like in those Star Trek shows.”

Crowley laughed, “We call it transporting, but yeah, it’s the same idea.”

“Ok, be safe. And sweet dreams, Crowley,” he said with a warm smile.

He dipped down and kissed Aziraphale again and squeezed his hand. “Goodnight, Aziraphale.”

He took two steps backwards, snapped his fingers, and was gone. Aziraphale was alone again in his bedroom. He sat on the edge of his bed, his mind racing with the events of the evening. He couldn’t believe it. He got up on autopilot and walked to the bathroom, getting ready for bed.

He turned out the lights and finally climbed into bed. He realized how exhausted he was and collapsed onto the pillow. His mind had been on overdrive ever since Crowley appeared, and he was shown things he never thought existed. But he’d also been introduced to this beautiful, gorgeous man, no, demon. Did it matter? He wanted to see him again and learn more about him. He was just thinking about what to ask Crowley when his eyes started getting heavy. He looked toward the chair and said out loud, “Good night, Crowley.”

A few moments later, he heard in his thoughts, “Good night, angel,” and Aziraphale smiled and drifted off to sleep.