Work Text:
London, 1976
Crowley was doing what he liked best. Napping. But as the occult creature he is, time isn’t really relevant. Therefore, he had been sleeping for 10 years now, since Aziraphale told him something he had never, oh never, been expecting to hear.
“You go too fast for me, Crowley.”
This clearly wasn’t about how fast he drove in London, and Crowley knew it. He could have spoken to Aziraphale, could have been a little more direct… but he didn’t. He drove back home and laid in his bed, wondering what he did wrong.
He wasn’t great at dealing with his emotions and even worse at understanding other persons’ (or angels’) and his instincts, as soon as feelings started kicking in, told him to flee. And then, two options were open to him: get very drunk or go to sleep.
When his body refused to get more sleep and forced him to get out of bed in 1976, Crowley was utterly disoriented. He watered his plants (miraculously still alive after years of negligence), and memories from a decade ago started to hit him in the face. Flashes of past events, sharp as knives. His hands tightened on the spray bottle. He remembered how much it hurt, that day, as Aziraphale told him he was going too fast, when the he had been in love with him for six millennia, and yet not getting any closer than someone the angel would “fraternize” with. Crowley smashed the spray bottle against the table, shaking and eyes already watering.
“Fuck.”, he muttered, as the first drop rolled on his cheek.
He wiped furiously the tears off his face. He desperately needed to get back to some unconscious state, he couldn’t take this anymore. If his body refused to get more sleep, then it was time for plan two.
Drinking.
He didn’t even lose time looking for the Bentley’s keys. He stormed out of the cold and dark flat, and got in the car. Crowley pat the steering wheel, glad he could finally find some comfort somewhere in this cold and dark world. The demon drove through London, trying to clear his mind until he found somewhere he could drink until dawn. The radio was blasting “Somebody to love” by some new artist he didn’t know. That only aggravated his current mood.
After a while, the demon found himself lost in the londonian streets. Turns out that the city had changed a lot during the past ten years. He slowed down, trying to understand where he was and how to go back to Mayfair. But something, in the corner of his eyes, caught his attention.
Under the porch of a mansion, there were lots of people talking and laughing, walking towards the front door, where loud music was coming from. But it was not what had caught his attention. He had caught a glimpse of someone with a beige coat and blonde, fluffy hair… Aziraphale? But what the Hell would he be doing here?
Crowley decided not to hesitate, not this time. He pulled the brakes and parked the car in the middle of the pavement. He stormed out, running after Aziraphale, who had already entered the house. Some demonic miracle convinced the bouncer to let Crowley enter, and he rushed, making himself a path between the persons. He spotted him in the middle of the crowd.
He was now right in front of Crowley, turning his back to him. Crowley paused, trying to regain composure, and tapped his shoulder.
“Angel?”
The man who turned was not Aziraphale.
Crowley apologized, slightly disoriented.
The man mumbled something back and Crowley left him alone. He really despised himself for being that desperate, but above everything else, he was disappointed it was not Aziraphale. The angel did not want him around anymore, and he made it more than clear.
“You go too fast for me Crowley.”
Crowley felt yet again the world tremble around him. His mind was fuzzy. What was he doing before all this? A waitress walked towards him, holding a tray presenting expensive champagne cups. Drinking! He wanted to drink. He somehow landed at a party, so it was the perfect place.
Crowley happily grabbed the whole tray instead of the cup the waitress was offering him. He was granted a suspicious look and quickly left alone. He found a couch he could sit on, as the previous occupants suddenly found something way more interesting to do somewhere else, and he tried to relax, his glasses on his lap.
And he drank for hours.
He tried to forget everything as he stretched on the couch, miracling an entire bottle this time, and listened to the song that was playing, lulled by the singer’s velvet voice.
Freddie Mercury had been used to throw parties like these. Most people ended up drunk and undeniably asleep at dawn. He avoided too much alcohol himself, he didn’t want to lose too much control of what he was doing. He made himself a way through the living room, slithering between unconscious people, towards his piano.
He stopped when he saw someone who was very much awake and conscious. And still drinking. And hot as Hell.
Freddie was in a mood for attempting… something.
“May I have a drink too?” said Freddie, as he sat on the sofa in front of the couch.
The stranger served him a drink. He had a fiery copper hair, even if his look was still in the 60’s. Bold.
“Your hair is incredible.”
The man looked up, his expression changing a bit, slightly pitiful, or even despising. He couldn’t tell because of the spectacles that were hiding half of his face. That didn’t stop Freddie in his attempt at befriending him.
“May I ask… why are you wearing sunglasses here? I can barely see anything myself”, he tried.
“I’m a demon.”
Okay. Maybe he was far drunker than he looked. Freddie sat beside Crowley and removed his glasses. The man hissed, shocked at this sudden invasion of his privacy. His eyes were golden, his pupils splitted. The eyes of a snake.
“What the-?”, started the singer, trying to move away.
“Told ya.”
He looked miserable. His eyes were red and watery. Without his sunglasses, he looked extremely fragile.
“Are you… alright?”, he tried, struggling against his first reaction, revulsion. A sob answered his question. What could bother a demon so much, supposing he really was one and that those eyes were not lenses?
“He said I was going too fast for him.”
“Who? And I’m sorry, you didn’t tell me your name. I’m Freddie Mercury.”
The stranger seemed to regain some composure as he introduced himself “Heard you on the radio this morning. Great work. Name’s Anthony J. Crowley.”
He certainly wouldn’t have been talking to a human about this in normal conditions, but Freddie was the only person to show him a semblant of friendliness besides Aziraphale, despite getting a glimpse of his true nature.
“That’s a very long story. Are you sure?”
“Hell yeah.”
Crowley grinned at the bad pun, and inspired loudly before getting started:
“I’m talking about Angel. Aziraphale, I mean. We’ve been friends for a long time -and when I say a long time, I’m talking about 6000 years. Though I’m not even sure he ever considered us as so.” He paused a bit, trying to focus on where he could start. “We met at Eden. 3981 BC. That idiot gave away his flaming sword to protect Adam and Eve. He could’ve lost his job, he could’ve Fallen; that was a stupid move. But he did it because he felt it was right. No angel would’ve done this besides him. And then he shielded me, the Enemy, from the first rain ever, his wings over my head. That’s when I fell in love with him.”
That was a lot to process for Freddie Mercury, puny mortal. He was starting to believe Crowley. He looked harmless, and terribly in love.
“Hold on, Antho-”
“-Crowley, please.”
“Wait. So, you are a demon, and your friend is an angel? Aren’t you mortal enemies?”
“Yeah. You know when humans say angels are beings made of love and all the stuff? Well, Aziraphale is the only one like that -most angels are dicks. He chatted with me, protected a demon on instinct. He’s just like that.” His face turned into a grin. “I tried to talk with another angel right before him. And he tried to turn me into snake sushi.” Freddie laughed at the joke, and took a sip of his champagne as he listened to him. Crowley continued his monologue:
“We kept bumping into each other through the centuries. He has always been kind to me… I remember one day at Rome. Circa 32 AD. I had had a really bad day, and entered the nearest tavern I could find. And then he was here. He asked me if I was still a demon. I still don’t know if he was joking or not.” He smiled. “And he noticed I was in a bad mood, so he tried to cheer me up! Can you believe this? He invited me to dinner. The first out of a long series.”
The grin that had slowly formed on the demon’s face faded away as he confessed: “I don’t think you could ever realize how lonely you feel after the Fall. When I Fell, I couldn’t sense the Almighty’s Love anymore. I felt so lost. Abandoned. And don’t count on Hell to replace that feeling of completeness. Affection is not really well seen there, you know. Aziraphale was the first one to show me he cared. He cared about me, and that was enough to feel less empty again.”
Crowley could remember perfectly how it was to Fall. It was the most painful experience of his life. It hurted physically, as his wings burnt down in sulfur, and his angelic essence was torn apart, and turned into something completely different. But that was not the worse. The worse was the emotional pain, to be cut from God, to feel rejected by your creator, abandoned in this limitless universe. The Fall was not made to be forgotten, it was a punishment, and that’s why She made sure no Fallen had the ability to erase it from their memories. It stayed, like marked by red iron.
He took a sip from the bottle. A drop of wine rolled on the corner of his mouth, and he cleaned it with his sleeve.
“And I craved that. Every time I saw him, it brightened up my life. So, I kept finding excuses to see him, which was not hard, since Angel keeps putting himself in danger.”
“Don’t you think that might have been intentional? He seems to like you.” Freddie didn’t know much about them yet, but if their relationship lasted for 6 000 years, then it was very probable he like him enough to keep him around.
At these words, the demon stopped, and looked at him with round eyes. He was connecting the dots in his head. After a moment, he acknowledged: “Well you could be right. There’s no way he could have been so dumb. Can you believe he traveled all his way to Paris to buy crepes? During the French Revolution! I had to save him. We had dinner after that.”
They both laughed at this. Crowley breathed in, making himself more comfortable on the sofa, and resuming the story.
“And somewhere in the tenth century, I had an idea. We both noticed we would keep doing things that cancelled each other’s actions. That’s when I offered him our Arrangement. I had to persist through the years, as he refused. And eventually, he accepted. We wouldn’t interfere in each other’s work, and we even helped each other with our respective commendations. And we started meeting more often, discussing over the Arrangement… but for me, it was a pathetic excuse to spend more time with him, for him, I don’t know.”
Crowley suddenly started giggling. “What did you put in those drinks? I’m exposing myself embarrassingly!”
“Oh, it’s nothing but alcohol, I swear!” A fond smile appeared on his face. “I think you just needed to talk about this to someone. Guess you don’t have this occasion very often?”
“You’re right. I don’t have many friends, he’s the only person I talk to.” Crowley agreed with a smirk, lifting up his drink before sipping it.
“And after several hundred years into the Arrangement, I felt like it might be starting to get dangerous. Hell would’ve punished and killed me if they ever discovered I was friends with an angel. So, I asked Aziraphale for an insurance. I asked for Holy Water. Wanted to defend myself if Hell sent demons to erase me from existence, see? But I’ve never seen him so shocked. He ran away and ignored me for a hundred years.” He drank the rest of the bottle, his face frowning. “I still don’t get his reaction.”
“If Holy Water kills demons, maybe he was afraid you could hurt yourself, or of giving you a suicide pill?”
Crowley considered the option and sprawled himself a little bit more on the couch as he resumed.
“Nevermind. Let’s get to the point. I saved him in a church in 1943. Maybe that’s why he finally brought me that flask in ‘66.”
He would remember it forever, just as the Fall. It felt very similar. He had been so ecstatic Aziraphale had come back to him after a century, but his joy was quickly gone as he saw the severe expression on Aziraphale’s face. And then, after a rapid exchange of brief, meaningless sentences, those small six words had destroyed him completely. Something at the core of him shattered, leaving him hopeless and broken.
“I knew it was difficult for him but still, he looked devastated. He didn’t want me thank him, and when I offered him a lift, to spend some more time with him, he told me I was going ‘too fast’ for him.”
Freddie chuckled at that. “Well DO YOU drive fast?”
“Oh, come on, I wouldn’t be here if I knew it was about me driving above the speed limit, would I?”, Crowley scoffed, but his expression changed almost immediately. He felt so weak. “I- I could hardly be moving this relationship too fast. I’ve been pining for six thousand years and he doesn’t even consider me as his friend.” He took another gulp from the bottle. Nothing. It was empty. He miracled another bottle, wine now, and opened it, throwing the empty one dramatically on the floor, giving it a look of disdain.
“I slept for ten years. I don’t know if he’ll ever want to see me again.”
Freddie stood up and sat on the piano bench. His fingers were pressing the keys softly, reaching for a peculiar set of notes. “I don’t think so. You’ve not told much about you two, but I feel like he appreciates you a lot. He wouldn’t have been so devastated about giving you the holy water if he didn’t.” Freddie started playing a little melody. “Can you tell me more? About the good times, I mean. It might help me understanding it a little better.”
Crowley was now fidgeting with the bottle. He spilled some wine on the couch and didn’t seem to notice it. “We used to meet at parks, we fed the ducks, and chatted about everything. We used to have great dinners together. That day in Paris, we ate at The Ritz for the first time.” A fond smile grew on his face. “I’ve never seen him so happy, and I’m really glad I have those sunglasses because I can’t help but staring at him when he eats. After dinner, I usually drive him back to his bookshop or somewhere so we can drink and talk all night.”
Freddie was still playing piano. Crowley kept talking.
“You know, I’m not asking much from him, I would love if we could hold hands, perhaps dance sometimes, or show a little more affection, but I’m more than fine just enjoying his company as I always did, I would be fine with whatever we already have now.” His voice cracked as he corrected himself. “Had.” He took another long sip. “I wish I hadn’t said anything. I knew I shouldn’t have. I’m never going to see him again.”
Freddie stopped him from saying more “You know, I’m sure he’s very fond of you. Don’t worry about that. Try to talk to him, I know he’ll answer. My goodness, I’ve never seen a demon so soft!”, he laughed.
Crowley froze at the last word, but said nothing. He looked half asleep already.
“The story of a good-old fashioned lover demon and his angel. And forbidden love. It really should be a Shakespearian play.”
Crowley was slowly falling asleep on the couch. Freddie covered him and went back to the piano. “Please don’t sleep for a decade or so, I’ll need this couch tomorrow and you have an angel to tempt.”
To which Crowley answered with a groan.
Freddie smiled at his new not-so-demonic friend, and went back to his melody.
The next morning, Freddie woke Crowley up. There was no one else in the room anymore. “I made something for you.”
Freddie looked like someone who spent the night awake and working. Terrible. He started playing. The melody was now complete, and he had added lyrics to his song.
“ I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things
We can do the tango just for two
I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings
Be your Valentino just for you.”
Crowley sat upright, trying to bring himself into focus, but still in a sleepy haze.
“Ooh let me feel your heartbeat, grow faster, faster
Ooh ooh can you feel my love heat, ooh
Come on and sit on my hot-seat of love
And tell me how do you feel right after-all
I'd like for you and I to go romancing
Say the word, your wish is my command”
Freddie started the refrain. Crowley’s eyes started watering.
“ Ooh love ooh loverboy
What're you doin' tonight, hey boy
Write my letter
Feel much better
And use my fancy patter on the telephone”
Memories of all the letters exchanged between the two, when they were apart. Letters that kept him going on, that brough some happiness in his world, which felt so inhospitable without the angel’s presence.
As Freddie got on the next part, he slowed his pace.
“When I'm not with you
I think of you always
I miss you
When I'm not with you
Think of me always
Love you, love you”
The lyrics echoed perfectly the thoughts he had most nights, laying in his bed, insomnia teasing him, as he hated himself for being this desperate.
Crowley sobbed, which forced a tender smile on Freddie’s lips. He sang another part and started the second verse.
“Dining at the Ritz, we'll meet at nine precisely
I will pay the bill, you taste the wine
Driving back in style, in my saloon will do quite nicely
Just take me back to yours that will be fine”
And that’s when the demon started crying. He was flooded with flashes of all the dinners and the good times they had together. He tried to hide his reaction by hiding his face in his hands but that only made it worse. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing. Freddie started the last refrain.
“Ooh love,
Ooh loverboy
What're you doin' tonight, hey boy
Everything's all right
Just hold on tight
That's because I'm a good old-fashioned fashioned lover boy”
Crowley was now weeping uncontrollably. He tried to clean his face before speaking but the singer cut him. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. You two are so romantic… and truly ineffable.”
At this, Crowley grinned. “You know, Angel would’ve liked you.” And started giggling “And Beelzebub will hate me if they find out this was written about me loving an angel.” He was now smiling broadly. “I truly am the worst demon ever.”
“Isn’t that a great thing you’re a bad demon?”
“It is.” He gave the best grateful smile he could. “And the song… it was beautiful, it was perfect, and- thank you so much. I mean it.”
Freddie sat beside him at started whipping away his tears. “It’s nothing. But, you know, it’s been ten years. I think he’s ready to catch up now. Just go to his bookshop, invite him to dinner. The London’s Ritz is fabulous too! Don’t be afraid, you are made for each other.”
Crowley brought him in a friendly, thankful accolade. He really liked that human, and he would miss him. He detangled from the hug and thanked his friend one last time, before opening the front door and stepping outside.
“Please call me later and tell me what happened! And for God’s sake freshen up your look, you look like one of the Beatles.” Freddie shouted.
Crowley took mental note and smirked. He peeked his head through the doorframe: “Blasphemy? I couldn’t like you more!” And then he left, his heart racing faster than never.
Crowley was now in front of the bookshop.
Maybe it was a bad idea. Maybe he should turn around and leave before getting his heart broken again.
And the door swung open.
”Crowley?”
“Hi?”
Aziraphale dashed towards him. “Wha-“ Crowley started, before getting interrupted by all the air refusing to stay in his lungs, forced out by the strongness of the embrace. Aziraphale was hugging him.
“I missed you.” The angel took him by his shoulder and maintained him arm-length “I was terribly concerned! You- you gave no sign for ten very long years. I thought something happened to you, I was not very far from going to your flat to check on you. I was so bloody terrified, I thought- I thought you were gone for good.” He looked awfully pained, his stormy blue eyes were watery, which only intensified their wonderful colour.
Crowley hugged him again. “Angel.” He had missed him too, he was horrified Aziraphale would never want to see him again after all that happened. Living in a world without his angel would be… well the Holy Water would’ve been useful if it was the case.
“Angel. I’m so sorry. I… just needed some time to think.” He tried to offer a reassuring smile, falling into the old game of temptation. “Can I redeem myself by inviting you to dinner? I heard about a fabulous little restaurant; you might have heard of it?”
“What are you thinking about?” His expression soothed at the offer, which was a great sign. He kept pouting, for good measure.
“The Ritz? Like in Paris. They opened one in London at the beginning of the century and I didn’t have the chance the try it yet.” But what he really wanted to say was ‘I didn’t have the heart to, not without you.’
Aziraphale brightened up in a smile. “Fabulous!” Crowley dragged him by his hand as they crossed the street, and opened the door for him as they entered the Bentley.
Crowley took place in his seat, holding the steering wheel firmly in his hands. He would drive slower, at least for today. He was trying not to scare Aziraphale after all. He engaged himself carefully on the street, and quickly drove past the speed limit, but at an acceptable level.
He was mortified. He sat further on his seat, trying to calm himself down. What he was about to do was… simply dement. Hit or miss. He really hoped Freddie was right about this, or else...
“I befriended Freddie Mercury, a very nice chap. We talked a bit.”
“Oh, really?” Was that a point of jealousy he could hear in Aziraphale’s voice? “And what did you talk about?” Yes it was, and the angel even had the decency to try to hide it with a scoff, pretending he was sick. They both knew angels couldn’t be ill.
Crowley couldn’t decide how to answer that at the moment, so he just snapped his fingers instead, miracling a perfect copy of the song on the radio. He went still, waiting for Aziraphale’s reaction.
“I may have talked a little about you. Or rather, us.”
The song kept playing. He refused to meet the angel’s face. He knew he was himself deep-red, so he tried to focus on driving. Aziraphale had just accused him of going too fast ten years ago and he showed up at (before!) their first dinner with a song written for him? Wasn’t that the exact definition of ‘too fast’?
He had to stop at a red light. Good. Now what would keep him from sinking deeper in his thoughts?
The song was reaching its end.
Freddie was singing about dining at The Ritz.
That’s when he heard Aziraphale. He was weeping. Where these tears of joy? Rage? Maybe sadness? Was he going to reject him? Crowley was clenching the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white. Anxiety was murdering him, so he decided to look.
Aziraphale was smiling and when he noticed the staring, he turned towards Crowley, looking at him adorably. “Oh, my dear boy.” The blush on his face was the most endearing thing he had ever seen.
“Dearest, this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. It pictures us, our relationship so flawlessly- is that really how you feel about me?”
“Always.”
Aziraphale cupped his face with one of his hands, and as he leant towards him, he placed his other hand on the top of Crowley’s, on the gear lever. Crowley melted softly into the touch, but his traitor heart was racing madly at the sudden touch.
And Aziraphale placed his lips on Crowley’s. A simple, pure kiss. That’s the exact moment Crowley’s brain decided to short-circuit, and he froze.
Aziraphale misunderstood the lack of reaction.
“Oh dear, am I going too fast?”
Crowley awakened at this exact choice of words.
“Angel?”
“Yes?”
“You’ll never go too fast for me.”
And the red lights turned green.