thearrangement | Ooh, each morning I get up I die a little

He should have been focused on the cursing but no, he didn't tut or look offended because Crowley had said bondage and his mind went to another place entirely that made him get a little hotter than intended. He really wished he was less -- pent up, as some might say. He laughed nervously and hoped he wasn't too red. "I assure you that it was never my intent but I suppose I do owe you for the torment. Perhaps I can make you some tea orrrr -- I do have coffee, if you'd rather."

Tea and coffee wasn't for customers. It was for Crowley, apparently, but here they were. "I've been fine. Glad to be back at work. It honestly is my favourite part of the week." And wasn't he just a rare one for thinking that.

"Yeah, coffee is more my cup of tea. Ironically." He didn't always mind tea, but given he was always tired, literally, since he couldn't even remember the last time he had slept in, Crowley was always ready for some coffee. "You know, I actually like work too. I reckon with you, you just love books, huh?"

He could not really relate to that specific love, but he understood the general sentiment. "I like hanging out with Adam, but I usually have an all right time at work. When the customers aren't too annoying and everyone grows the way they're supposed to, anyway."

Aziraphale nodded and opened up the barrier on the checkout desk so Crowley could have the honour of coming behind the desk. He also got him a seat, not wanting the poor man to have to keep standing, he did seem awfully tired. "I'll put the kettle on and get the French press ready!"

He prepared everything he needed but kept talking over his shoulder. "I do love the books, I think they were my first love. My only love, perhaps. I was so excited when I got this job. I had to study a bachelors for it, first in my family, it was very ... contentious." They were not happy that he didn't study theology or divinity but he managed to keep it from them for two years and when they found out, it was too late. "I just graduated this year, bully for me!"

With an awkward laugh, he walked back through, smiling at Crowley. "... So, the growing thing, are we thinking people ... animals?" What was growing? "Lab stuff?"

Crowley followed behind Aziraphale and then sat down in the chair he'd indicated, leaning back.

"Bachelors, huh? Cheers to that. Of course you'd be clever." Made sense, really. Also made him feel that not so uncommon insecurity. It had all been fine. It had all been fine for so long until he had gotten it in his head that maybe his teachers all the way back had been right. That he had potential he was squandering, that he was hanging with the wrong people, letting them drag him down, et cetera. He didn't remember ever caring before, but now he was usually aware that he had mucked up his life. Not even GCSEs and here Aziraphale was.

For some reason assuming he was a scientist. "Do I look like I work in a lab?"

Seriously? He adjusted himself in the chair, crossing his arms almost defensively and spreading his arms a little. Squaring up, so to say. "I just work in a garden centre. Y'know, selling plants."

"Oh woah! That sounds so fun, I love plants!" Yes, there was no hint of mockery, irony or fake joy - it was just real joy because he was clearly excited at the idea of Crowley's job. To him, it sounded just marvelous. "I adore botany. My brother, Bartemius, he gave me a book on botany after a rather heated debate on the garden of Eden between him and my eldest sister. It was so interesting. I want to own plants one day but, uh, I don't really have space. I still have the same bedroom..."

He was hoping to move soon. Get out. Get a bigger place, maybe one with north facing windows. He really wanted something bright and green. "I think I would get an orchid as my first plant. I know, I know, very common but so lovely. A good starter plant, yes?"

The kettle beeped and Aziraphale dragged himself away to get the coffee ready. "You will have to recommend me some green friends when you have chance."

"You gotta talk to them. Plants like that." Granted, most people didn't talk to them the way he did, but it was difficult to argue with his results. Even his boss left him alone about it by now. Not a single plant wilted or died on Crowley's watch, everyone knew that. "I've got a lot of plants at home, but, really, you can start with anything. Just takes a bit of know-how and enough care. We went to pick out a plant for Adam when he first moved in. Strange little boy picked an apple tree."

Crowley showed with his hands how small said tree was. "It's growing well and he's named it, so, you know. Fits right in with your Eden theme." Crowley stuck out his tongue, wiggling it about playfully. "I'll be the snake."

"I'm sure you would be." Aziraphale laughed and then turned away, cursing to himself. Yes, he was. He was the snake, the tempter, the test - and he was failing. He had already failed. He was tempted. God could smite him, he was fine with that, as long as he got to check out Crowley and maybe just once, he could touch his chest.

Coming back out, he set the coffee down and leaned against the desk, just keeping an eye on nearby customers.

"I'm glad you, erm, that you ... came back. Not just because of the late fee, of course, though that did trouble me! No, I just -- I didn't want to make you feel unwelcome here." He knew that he had seen the church, that he knew his religion, that he knew he must be in deep but he had still approached him and spoke to him. It made him feel less awful about it all.

Crowley wasn't sure for an instance just what Aziraphale was getting at, but then he thought it over and the dots connected. He shrugged his shoulders, deciding to simply share his thoughts freely. "I try not to judge anyone the way I've been judged all my life. By where I come from, my family, what I look like..."

He gestured to indicate that the list went on. Being gay and not ashamed over it, now having a child and probably not doing the best job at it, all things he got judged for. "You haven't called me a heathen, you aren't running from my evil homosexual wiles, I reckon you can't be as bad as all that, angel."

"I don't think you're bad at all. Not sure what I'd assume you were if I was trying to judge you." Aziraphale, who was looking him over, didn't have time to stop himself because he said what he was thinking. A common problem. "I suppose a model."

As soon as he said it, all casual like it was a sure fact, he then realised how weird that was to say to someone and his eyes widened a fraction as he tried to think of a way to recover.

"... of plants." There. Nailed it.

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, confused at first. That quickly gave way to confusion and then a certain satisfaction. He had been trying to figure out whether Aziraphale was into him at all, but - in all fairness - the closet thing had thrown him off. If he had read Aziraphale so wrong to misjudge how open he was about his obvious gayness, how could he trust anything else?

But this, well. This wasn't really subtle. "Don't know about plants," he said slowly, leaning back and adjusting himself a little. Now he could just watch Aziraphale's eyes. See where they went. Damn, he was adorable when he was blushing. "I'd rather do some nude modelling, but I'm not sure how they'd feel about the tattoos."

All right, he wasn't going for subtle either.

"You have tattoos?" Well, he was definitely getting into heaven. Also - hot. Very, very hot. Like Spain in the summer holidays sort of hot. Aziraphale was red again, as always, trying to not look at Crowley now because every time he did, he found himself staring at the bit of skin that was showing and he knew he was a mortifying mess. He would stop creeping Crowley out soon if he didn't control himself.

He was the creepy Christian in the closet! It was not flattering when a weird guy like him showed interest, Crowley was probably embarrassed for him. He awkwardly started to fiddle with his jacket buttons.

"You are quite the rebel, aren't you? I'm afraid I don't know much about that..."

"Are you quite sure about that? Because here you are, shiftily seducing a single father in the backroom of your library. Seems rebellious to me. I'd go so far as to say it's salacious." This was perhaps just a little too entertaining, but there was something to the way Aziraphale kept playing with his buttons. He had pretty deft fingers. There was also something to be said about getting the attention of someone who wasn't a mother of three on a playground. It had been a while.

The teasing came easily. He didn't assume it would lead too much, given their respective situations, but still. "Quite salacious."

"I am not! I'm not -- I'm shifty at all. I'm rather -- rather upfront. If I wanted to seduce you, I would be seducing you right now." Aziraphale defended with almost a childish pout. "I'm just making small talk. Very normal. You're the-the seducer. Seductor. With your -- your shirt. Like that. And the pants and --eyes and... well." He paused and cleared his throat.

Well, didn't he just show how much he had been taking note. Aziraphale looked away and wondered how much more he could show his hand today? He may as well just pathetically call him pretty at this point. He raised his hand and covered his face. "I'm really rather bad at this, aren't I?" Hiding. Being covert. Being charming. Hitting on people. All applicable.

"Hm. I don't know yet. It's too early to judge." Crowley spread his legs and leaned forward, his hands on his knees, his eyes - behind the sunglasses - on Aziraphale. His eyebrows were raised and, yes, of course that movement made the shirt gape open just a little. Perhaps a little much, as part of the snake tattoo that went up his arm and wrapped all the way to his chest was no definitely visible, with more of his chest exposed.

"What about my shirt. And pants. And eyes?" Well, he had to know.

Aziraphale swallowed hard. This was it - God was testing him. God was testing him and ... he had failed, right? Was failing. Flunking out ages ago when he first saw Gabriel's running friends in their tight shorts and tops. Oh gosh, why was he like this? He wasn't brave either. He gripped his jacket in his hands and bunched it up as he tried to find any courage or some sense of suave or flirting or something.

"The pants are... tight. And-And the shirt is very -- loose. Open. At the top. It's hard to not--" He licked his lips, even his ears were burning. This was so crass, to speak on such things. What was he doing? "Your eyes are very memorable. They're beautiful." He bit his lower lip. "Like amber."

"I meant that the other day, you know." Weirdly, it was that that broke through it again. Through his trolling, his teasing. Crowley became a little more real, a tad more serious, sitting back again and indicating his eyes behind the glasses. "No one's ever said anything like that about my eyes."

The tight pants, he had heard a lot about that before. "Cheers for that." He cleared his throat, feeling just a tad awkward now himself. "You really need to come out some time."

Wait. Ah, whatever. "I mean, come to a club. Bar. Pub. Whatever tickles your fancy. You'll get better at the seduction once you realise." He indicated Aziraphale's entire being. "Gay catnip, you."

"I'm rather taken with them. It's a shame you hide them but I assume you have to. Protection, yes?" He saw that they were blood shot that night but it wasn't enough to detract from it's nice colouring. It's softness. Crowley's eyes held no judgement and they were different, unique - just like he was.

Aziraphale smiled a little and shook his head slowly. "Oh no, I really could not. I'm not good with that sort of thing. And I very much doubt I am 'catnip' for anyone. I just -- I don't know what I would do with myself."

He laughed awkwardly and shrugged his shoulders. "The closest I ever was to anything like that was a 'teens for Jesus' dance I had to attend because my father made me. The music was loud and even though no one there could be deemed 'cool' by any standards, I was still the least popular there. So let that stand for itself. I was bullied by an altar boy all evening for -- things I would not want to repeat." Mostly his queer little face and faggoty walk. "I am not a hit at parties."

"It's an autoimmune disease, so yeah. I wear the glasses most of the time." Especially when it was bright, which was most everywhere during the day. He looked Aziraphale over and shook his head in turn, wanting to correct him.

"Darling, come on. You've never been at a gay party. Trust me as someone who's been to too many: Catnip. With that hair, the smile, the way you move and the great bum? You better don't go without me, I think you'll need guidance." Especially as he considered for just a moment just who would go after someone like this. Yeah, he'd have to keep Aziraphale safe from that. Golden-haired cherub was just bound to call to the wrong forces determined to corrupt him.

Basically he was Bill, if Bill wasn't already corrupted. So Crowley was worried just thinking about it.

"I--I have what?" He had a good arse and a nice smile and -- he liked his hair? Aziraphale laughed and then frowned a little, feeling a bit thrown. "I think that's the only time someone has spoken on my looks in a complimentary fashion. Then again, most of the people I know like to call me queer so I assume that's not really a danger here. Or a negative." Aziraphale found that oddly comforting. What he had couldn't be used against him, he couldn't be hated for what he was. Oh and there it was, that powerful, painful yearning.

"I want to. One day. Maybe not often, I'm not a party person but -- maybe. To be with people. People like me. I'm always around people who dislike almost everything about me, that love me 'in spite' of myself." And it hurt to always feel like that. And he would never feel at home in a party but he could at least belong for five seconds. And that was a nice thought.

"... I always wanted to dance with a boy."

"Yeah?" Of course he had. He would be a romantic like that. Crowley found himself smiling and then he reached into his pocket. He unlocked his phone without even looking at it, opened up a music app and simply selected a random song off his playlists, turning up the volume.

Queens. Of course it would be.

He chuckled as he got up, holding a hand out for Aziraphale. "I'm a boy." In case that wasn't clear. "Let's show you what you've been missing."

"I'm at work." Aziraphale protested. "Someone could see..."

Who could see. They were off to the side, in the office, and no one could see. His colleague was working the desk, the storytime session was going and no one really needed him. He wanted to protest but there was music and a boy was asking him to dance and--

He took his hand without thinking, not sure what to do. He hadn't danced in years. Not with a boy either. Did he lead or follow? Was it a waltz? He could not stand on his feet or he would ruin everything!!

Honestly, Crowley had no idea how to dance to this. He barely knew how to dance unless reasonably drunk and surrounded by hot bodies and a deafening beat. However, this was a repressed gay boy who just wanted to be held. Dance with another boy. So he took his hand and pulled him close, wrapped an arm around him and moved, at least vaguely, to the music, while looking down at Aziraphale.

Good old fashioned lover boy seemed about right for this.

There was no going back from this, was there? No chance, no. His heart was racing and he had to blink back tears by the end of it because this man was holding him and treating him like a lover, not like a pain. And it was making his heart hurt more than he could imagine. When the song eventually ended, Aziraphale pulled himself together and pulled away carefully.

"I--"

"UNCLE CROWLEY! UNCLE CROOOOOOWLEY." Oh. That would be Adam. Aziraphale laughed, almost grateful for the quick save.

"I believe you're wanted."

"By the pest, yeah." Crowley reached up to rub his eyes briefly and then he pushed his glasses up, looking right at Aziraphale without them in the way. Aziraphale liked his eyes, he could deal with the light for just a moment. Or several. It was so very flattering that he liked his eyes. "I believe you are wanted too."

He needed him to know that. He could do so much better than that closeted life. Crowley flashed him a smile and then let the glasses slide back down, turning around to leave the kitchen and find his wayward child. "Adam? What do you need, brat?"

"I got my books." Adam informed Crowley as he tried to peer over the desk. "Are you talking to Aziraphale? He's my friend too."

Aziraphale pulled himself together swiftly, Crowley's words haunting him as he tried his best to keep himself above water. He came out of the kitchen too, smiling fondly at Adam. "Hello, my dear boy. How are you doing, young Adam? Did you find books?"

"I have lots of them. We're gonna go home and read. I have the Gruffalo." Adam smiled and then held them out towards his uncle. "Were your playing?"

Ooh, each morning I get up I die a little

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