Good Omens Crowley and Aziraphale shorts--Ineffable Husbands PWPs and fluff

The Two of Us in Sympathy (and sometimes ecstasy)

Notes:

Written for Iddy Iddy Bang Bang 2019. Prompt was having to have physical contact in public, while terrified of having true feelings discovered. 

Mature content. My usual happy ending promise is also downgraded to bittersweet, this is canon compliant 19th century stuff. With the assumption that they will get together in 2019.

Inslip's Gentleman's club, Fitzrovia, London, January 1889

Crowley sprawled on a couch in one of the recesses of the club, idly sipping brandy. Jack, who under the name of Miss Evelyne was the star of the club, was tinkling away on the piano, playing a quadrille, and men were pairing off. Crowley had no inclination to dance, and refused the gentlemen who approached him, sweetly suggesting they could get to know each other better after two in the morning, when the lights would go out.

None of the guests were particularly interesting tonight, and he had no interest in the "soldier boys" in their pretty dresses and uniforms. Many on both sides were married, but adultery in itself was not a sin that Crowley felt paid off well with Head Office, especially since by the time they were engaged by the brothel or had joined the club, they hardly needed his prodding to sin. Fornication and sodomy in themselves were hardly worth putting in reports in these modern days. What interested Crowley were the guests, the ones with power and influence and already hovering on the point of evil, and would only need a little push—say, a little blackmail and threat of exposure—to fall into the depths of evil.

He had heard that the Prince of Wales's son might be in attendance tonight, which would have made it worthwhile. He had heard rumours of Prince Albert Victor, rumours far worse than any visits to a brothel. If they were true, if the prince were one of His, then it was worth investigating further. So far, though, all the attendees had been harmless wealthy gentlemen, not particularly depraved or powerful. They were there for the dancing and the orgy, for the semblance of love and not for any uglier purpose.

There was one more guest to be announced, and if they weren't under the name Victoria, Crowley was going to risk irritating Mr. Inslip by throwing the numbers off and pleading a headache. He was bored senseless, and if he were going to waste his time getting drunk, he might as well do it in his own quarters, as getting pawed on and more by humans. Took less energy.

"Gentleman, here is the new guest I promised, Miss Arabella," said Mr. Inslip, and as the company politely rose Crowley looked up into the face of, not a Prince, but a Principality, as golden and rounded and lustrous in this room of humans as a buttercup in a field of snowdrops.

Crowley was glad that he was slightly secluded in his recess, as it gave him a moment to recover himself and assess the situation. Arabella— yielding to prayer. He had probably meant his own prayers, but Crowley felt wildly that either Satan or the Almighty had heard his own desperate, unspoken prayers, because here was his angel, in one of these temples of lust.

There was a slight flutter of nervousness in Aziraphale's well-kept fingers, perhaps, but otherwise he was looking around with bright, inquisitive interest, at the gentlemen in suits and the soldiers in fine dresses and false braids, at the beautiful mirrors on the walls that gave the impression of light despite the heavily curtained windows, and, true to his passions, at the sumptuous refreshments laid out in the recesses.

Aziraphale clearly wasn't here in order to preach the ways of chastity to the guests and hosts, then. Membership of this particular club was a hundred guineas, and then annual subscriptions and refreshments. No one, no one at all, ended up at Inslip's by mistake, rather than by careful, tactful introduction and paying up to prove sincerity.

There was only one conclusion, and it didn't take Crowley long to reach it. Delight filled him, as it did every time the angel did something unexpectedly wicked. To think he had been expecting to be bored .