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Aziraphale was not an entirely oblivious man-shaped being. He just played the part well for Heaven, for overly-curious humans, and for Crowley. Heaven was out of the picture now, and Crowley had always understood, in a way, the limitations of their relationship.
That just left overly-curious humans.
Several months after the aborted Apocalypse, just as winter was about to pull autumn into a dark alley with a shiv, Anathema came to visit. Undeterred by the howling wind and looming storm that was just beginning to spit, she and Newton arrived in front of Aziraphale's shop in time for mid-afternoon tea. Newt paused to look at the rather impressive classic Bentley that was also parked out front, and then took a moment to tell Dick Turpin that he was still the very best car, yes he was. Anathema solidly knocked on the door before pushing on the handle. The wind quickly blew the door to the very limits of it's antique hinges, and the couple scurried inside before closing the door heavily behind them.
"I'll just be a moment, I'm in the kitchen!" Came Aziraphale's voice from the back.
"Coats on the rack, people, there are books out here older than Rome." Came Crowley's voice from the middle of the room, where several chairs were arranged around a coffee table. He was balanced on the arm of one chair with his boots rocking the table back and forth dangerously. Aziraphale very quickly bustled out from the back carrying a tray of steaming mugs and swatted Crowley's legs down before setting it on the table. The demon flopped onto the floor like a puddle before drawing himself up and beginning to pace in a wide circle around the room.
"Angel, I'm heading out."
"Are you sure, my dear?" Aziraphale moved over closer to him as he asked, and the demon shrugged.
"The plants need a good talking-to today, and if I stay I'm going to make that kid's life Hell." He glanced over at Newt and smiled with just a hint of fangs while Aziraphale mouthed "He's just looking for a reaction-" over his shoulder. Crowley looked back, and Aziraphale stopped. Newton made several "I can just wait in the car-" gestures before Anathema took his hands in her own and squeezed. Seemingly satisfied with himself, Crowley stretched and cracked his neck at a decidedly non-human angle.
"Have fun with, well, whatever it is you lot are doing." He said, dismissively waving a hand. Crowley actually knew quite well that Anathema had come to talk occult literature with Aziraphale over an impossibly perfect cup of tea. The other human was still fair game, though.
"You'll be back for dinner?" Aziraphale looked imploringly at the demon, who looked away and ran a hand casually through his short hair.
"'Course I will. Wouldn't miss it for the world." He shoved both hands in his impossibly tight pockets, speaking louder than was necessary in faux-sarcasm.
"You've said something to that effect just about every night this week, Crowley." Aziraphale handed Crowley a wool coat, suited for the weather, which Crowley promptly miracled into the exact same coat but black before putting it on.
"Well, it's true. I'll swing by around 6?" He paused at the entrance, one eyebrow precariously raised.
"Sounds perfect, I'll be looking forward to it. Mind how you go." He beamed, and Crowley gave a lopsided smile in return before slinking out the door and firing up the Bentley, which vanished down the street so quickly that one might doubt it had been there at all.
"Oh my God." Whispered Anathema, and Newt looked as confused as he always did.
-
"You two are adorable, just to let you know." The trio was set up in the circle of chairs and making small talk about the weather when Anathema leaned in and smiled conspiratorially over her tea. Aziraphale took a sip of his own before responding.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." His eyes narrowed over a perfectly pleasant -if not tight- smile.
"Oh, come on now. How long have you known him?"
"6000 years. You know, I was technically on apple-tree duty, and-" Aziraphale was about to gratefully launch into another retelling of the story when Anathema interrupted.
"How long has his aura looked like that?" She gave Aziraphale a look as if he was meant to know what that was.
"Angels don't see auras." He gave a brilliant smile and a bit of an apologetic head tilt, and Anathema just frowned at him.
"Alright, no aura. But... you're aware of how he acts, right?" She looked to Newt for confirmation and the man gave a small, somewhat confused nod, eyeing the angel in front of him with rightful trepidation.
"I'm afraid I'm not." Aziraphale set his mug down with slightly more force than was necessary, and Newt's eyes flickered to it briefly. He turned to quickly whisper in Anathema's ear and then shush her desperately when she made a noise of protest. Rolling her eyes, the witch turned back to the angel.
"So, I don't suppose you've gotten in "75 Uses For Common Herbs and Powders" yet, have you?"
"Yes! Yes, of course, it's just behind the counter. One moment, please. You know, I find just the strangest things on the E-Bay..."
-
"What was that all about?" Anathema asked as soon as the pair was clear of the front door. Newt stopped his steps in order to scrunch up his face in careful consideration.
"You know, I don't actually think Aziraphale knows." He fixed her with a serious expression and Anathema scoffed in response.
"He's not that stupid, Newt, he's an angel-"
"It doesn't mean he knows absolutely everything, I think that's kinda unique to, um, God." He fidgeted with the collar of his coat as he spoke, turning it up against the wind and absently picking off lint.
"I figured they were already married! Is it like, demon-angel cultural differences, d'you think? Like, angelic courting rituals would require giving him a golden stone under a full moon while it's exactly 70 degrees and the wind is north-eastern?"
"Do I look like I know more than you do about how supernatural beings date?" He stuck out his arms and gave his most concentrated I am so incredibly ordinary look, and Anathema narrowed her eyes in thought.
"... Do angels just not feel things like-"
"Anathema, dear girl!" The couple jumped, respective hearts pounding, as Aziraphale's voice came from behind them. The door was open just a sliver, and the angel leaned out with a small cloth-wrapped parcel in hand. "Your 75 Uses, I would certainly hate for you to leave it behind." He smiled, and Anathema tentatively took the proffered book and held it tightly to her chest.
"Oh, um, of course! Thank you very much. I didn't realize it was mine to take..."
"I insist. Drive safely, we'll have to do this again sometime." He gave another tight-lipped smile, looking between the two humans and waiting for Anathema to stammer out her agreement before closing the door again. She stared at the door briefly before grabbing one of Newt's hands and pulling him with her towards the car.
"Let's just go home." She said as she slid into the passenger seat, and Newt was not one to disagree.
"Yeah, yeah, that sounds good."
-
Inside, Aziraphale was practicing his deep breathing.
The thing about Aziraphale is that he really is quite smart. You don't spend 6000 years on a planet and not pick up a few things. You don't spend 6000 years in and out of one being's existence, the only being sharing your lonely outpost, without learning a bit about them. He was fully aware that Crowley, for all his bluster and bite, had a big fat crush on him. The thought of it only served to agitate him more, and he returned to his seat with his mug and miracled himself a fresh batch of tea.
"Humans, thinking I'm stupid or, or, something! " He slumped further into his cushion, gripping the wings on his mug tightly in one hand and raising the other to massage the bridge of his nose. "Of course, I'm perfectly oblivious. Hapless me!" He laughed to no one in particular.
It wasn't that he hated Crowley's feelings, or that he'd be averse to returning them. It was more that he'd spent at least a millennium playing dumb around the demon for the sake of no one being killed should they be found out. In some ways, it protected him more than Crowley. He had plausible deniability- he'd be in trouble for hanging around with a demon, of course, but he may get off easy if he acted as if he genuinely had no idea that the evil demon was seducing him. If Crowley was convinced the angel felt nothing, they couldn't torture anything out of him. Dear Lord, that felt terrible to think now. The other angels already thought him to be an incompetent oaf, the worst they could do was reassign him. There was nothing they could say which would be new to him, but he still feared the shame of it all on an instinctual level. Crowley might get a commendation for tempting an angel, presuming the exact details of their arrangement weren't discovered, and could be sent back down as a legend. Or they would just kill him anyway for failing to kill an angel when he had the chance, knowing Hell. He would be miserable down there, and Aziraphale knew it. He wanted the demon around him, he wanted companionship, even if it meant shaking off flirtations and writing off certain gestures or efforts as purely coincidental. He could just enjoy the demon's company and the sinful luxury of their agreement.
Things got slightly more complicated when Aziraphale realized the slowly-growing emotion in his chest was love.
He groaned, setting his mug down in order to drag both of his hands down his face. He'd been an active participant in this dance they did since 1941, swept up completely without warning and stumbling over the steps. Everything got so much more messy with feelings involved. He'd made a right fool of himself, multiple times, during Armageddon. And on the very first day of the rest of their lives, after everything they'd been through, he'd felt love for Crowley so intense it knocked the metaphorical wind out of him. And then they went right back to dancing, orbiting each other but still never getting close enough.
Why?
The thought struck him, and he raised his head.
Why?
"It's dangerous." He told himself, heart not quite in it.
I've done a lot of dangerous things, haven't I?
"..."
Aziraphale busied himself with taking away the tea and rearranging the loose chairs where they belonged. After checking and double checking that the entire shop was in order, and pouring himself a fortifying glass of wine, he drifted to the phone.
"Crowley? Yes, everything's fine. They just left. I was just wondering... I'm not quite in the mood to go out anymore. Would you join me here, tonight? No, yes, thank you. Yes, I have the one you like. Hm? Yes, I'm fine. I'll see you soon, then? Yes, sorry. Thank you, dearest." Aziraphale slammed the phone down on the pet name, heart suddenly pounding again.
It was uncharted territory. A threshold that, once stepped over, would never permit a retreat. It was funny, falling in love all over again when you've been in love for lifetimes over. It was very, very annoying when nosy humans noticed something he'd long kept secret from God Herself. But it wasn't like he was alone in this purgatory state, he remembered. Crowley's always been there waiting for him.
(This fic has exactly 1967 words! Wow)