[Good Omens] May I Have This Dance?

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Neither of them were sure how it all happened, exactly, but it started with a record.

Aziraphale couldn't ever recall obtaining one that played the song it did, but Crowley insisted—perhaps a bit too firmly—that maybe he'd just forgotten he had it. The angel, in turn, objected that he would not have forgotten such a thing as what records he owned, but Crowley pointedly ignored him.

How odd.

"It's a lovely song, though." The demon said, his eyes daring to sneak a look across the couch at Aziraphale. "'S got a nice tune to it. Would be perfect for slow dancing, I think."

The remark sent a heated blush across Aziraphale's face. He knew Crowley likely meant nothing by it, but now he'd said that he was beginning to imagine himself and the demon standing together, arms around one another's waist, rocking gently together to the beat of this sweet song. The angel sat a little more stiffly now, eyes locked onto his lap. Crowley, of course, noticed this.

"Are you alright, angel?" He asked. His voice was low, and he spoke in such a tender way that it snapped Aziraphale out of his trance, his soft blue eyes flickering upwards to meet Crowley's own.

"Perfectly fine, my dear." He replied, smiling. This response was a lie, though only partially.

"Would you want to?"

"I'm sorry?" Aziraphale felt his heart skip over a beat. Surely the demon wasn't implying what he thought?

"Would you want to dance with me?" Crowley asked, voice unsure and nervous.

"Oh." Once again, the angel blushed. Instinctively he wanted to say no, not because he didn't want to but because he knew Heaven wouldn't approve of it if he did. Heaven, however, was not watching them anymore, and neither was Hell, and therefore there was really no reason for him to say no anymore. And so, Aziraphale took a deep breath and said "Yes, actually. That would be quite lovely."

Crowley's eyes went wide—so much so that Aziraphale could tell even though the demon still wore his glasses—as though he hadn't actually expected to hear a yes. "Oh," He squeaked out. "Well." The demon stood up and Aziraphale could see him go somewhat weak in the knees. "Let's get to it, then."

The angel couldn't help but chuckle, standing as well and taking one of Crowley's hands. "Yes. Let's."

The demon took Aziraphale's other hand and the angel could see that he was incredibly flustered. "You know," Crowley said quietly, "I'm not actually that good at dancing."

"That's okay," Replied Aziraphale, just as lowly. "Neither am I. But it's fine, because we're doing this together."

They stood still together like that for a while, hand in hand, awkwardly looking everywhere but the other's face until Crowley cleared his throat.

"Right then," He said, and with a motion of his hand the record suddenly reverted back to its starting position. With that, the song began to play once more from the top. "Shall we dance?"

Aziraphale smiled sweetly. "Of course, my dear."

And so they began, Crowley's hand coming to rest itself on Aziraphale's hip and Aziraphale's head finding its way to rest against Crowley's shoulder. The rush of endorphins was indescribable, the movement of their bodies together almost failing to register entirely with Aziraphale as his senses were completely overwhelmed by Crowley. Crowley, who smelled of sulphur and ash like a demon but had a certain indescribable quality that made him different from the rest of them; Crowley, the demon who had swept in to save Aziraphale countless times through history, never really asking anything in return but always willing to give; Crowley, the only being in all of Her creation that the angel could ever envision loving the way he loved him.

A sudden thud snapped Aziraphale out of his daze and Crowley groaned in pain.

"Ssssson of a bitch!" The demon let go of him, clutching at his ankle. It appeared he'd accidentally backed into an end table, slamming his heel into the hard wood siding.

"Oh, dear, are you alright?" Aziraphale asked. Impulsively, he performed a quick miracle to ease the demon's pain. Crowley suddenly realized what had happened and looked embarrassed.

"Yeah. Yep, fine. Oh, how great of me, totally didn't just ruin the moment or anything." The demon huffed. "Sorry, 'Zira. Got a bit carried away, I suppose..."

"Oh, Crowley," The angel brought his hand up to cup the other's cheek. "You didn't ruin anything. It's alright."

"You sure?" Crowley's pupils were blown behind those sunglasses. Aziraphale could see it from here, and speaking of, how long had they been standing close together, anyway? The angel suddenly became aware of a very thick tension in the air between them and he realized that with a quick, calculated motion of the head, he could—if he so wanted to—kiss Crowley on the mouth, right here, right now.

And so he did.

The fire that spread through him was utterly indescribable. Their kiss was a little stiff at first, Crowley tensing up a great deal at the sudden contact, but after a second he was practically melting against the angel's lips. A pair of arms wrapped themselves around Aziraphale's waist, holding him closer, and after a few seconds more, it was over.

The angel pulled away and Crowley took his sunglasses off, tossing them to the side. The skin of his face was almost entirely a peach-colored blush, his eyes wide and his pupils so dilated one could liken him to an excited kitten.

"Does that answer your question, dearest?" Aziraphale asked with a coy smile. His own face was red with a blush, and part of him was shocked he'd even had the courage to go through with that at all.

The demon took a moment to gather himself. "No."

"What?" The angel asked, eyebrows furrowing. Crowley smiled smugly.

"No," He repeated, "So I suppose you'll just have to do that again until I get it."

Aziraphale beamed, and he did. Again, and again, and again, even well after the record player stopped, and by the end of it the two lovers found themselves curled up on the floor in each other's arms, very happy with their situation indeed.