AU The Orchestra

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~Aziraphale's POV~

Despite all his doubts, Aziraphale found that he rather enjoyed the piece he was supposed to play for the concert. He was only meant to play one, as the concert was a bit of a mash-up of a number of well-known performers from all walks of life.

The weeks leading up to the concert passed quickly and Aziraphale soon found himself faced with a looming performance. He was surprisingly nervous for it, given his vast musical experience, but he was excited too. He always got a bit giddy before performances. He was confident in his mastery of the work he was to perform, and he knew his nerves were only one of the unfortunate downsides of his corporeal form.

The night of the performance, Aziraphale arrived at the concert hall several hours early so that he would have time to get a feel for the room and to familiarize himself with the piano he would be using. He was met with a beautiful but imposing nine-foot Steinway concert grand. Upon further inspection, he found the weighting of the keys to be a little heavier than those of his baby grand at home. He made a mental note of that as he ran through his piece.

Just as he finished, he began to hear other musicians arriving backstage, and decided he ought to let the orchestra begin their sound check. He slipped past the curtain and into the small throng of other musicians, clutching his sheet music to his chest. He wouldn't have it on stage with him during the performance, but he liked to have it with him beforehand.

As he shouldered his way past musicians, doing his best not to run into anyone, a pair of snakeskin boots caught his eye. He followed the boots up a thin pair of legs clad in tight pants and a narrow torso topped with a head of fiery red hair. The man clutched a violin and looked thoroughly over it.

Checking his itinerary, Aziraphale said to the man, "Hello, are you Anthony Crowley? I believe I'm meant to go on just after you."

~Crowley's POV~

Crowley was standing just off to the side of the crowd, his eyes glued to his violin. Anything to distract him from the irritating gather of people, anxiously awaiting their turn.

The demon narrowed his eyes as he heard footsteps approach him, *Oh please don't let this be-* his thoughts were halted abruptly when he felt a slight vibration in the air around him. It was almost as if a breeze was about. Touching his leg, whispering across his hips and following up his torso. It caused an unintentional shiver up his spine and snapped his eyes up to look at the approaching figure clad in tartan.

"Hello. Are you Anthony Crowley? I believe I'm meant to go on just after you." The man said. Crowley furrowed his brows. How did he know his name? His eyes briefly flicked to the papers tightly clutched against the other man's chest and internally groaned.

*of course, the itinerary.* His own copy was sitting, or, to be honest, strewn across his trailer currently.

He cleared his throat in an attempt to break the small awkward silence that had elapsed.

"Right, I mean yes. And you are?" He asked, extending his hand in an attempt to appear somewhat sociable.

~Aziraphales POV~

"Aziraphale," he replied, shaking Crowley's hand politely.

When their hands touched, Aziraphale felt a small but unmistakable shock ripple through his earthly body, all the way down to his celestial core, making him draw in a quick, shallow breath. Not letting go of the handshake, his eyes snapped up to meet the dark sunglasses of the man before him.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," Aziraphale said, forcing himself to get words out before the situation became awkward. He let go of Crowley's hand.

Aziraphale's mind was spinning: what could possibly have caused that feeling when their hands met? Crowley couldn't possibly be a supernatural being— could he? That was extremely unlikely. Aziraphale hasn't ever been informed of the presence of another angel in his area, and his mind turned to other ideas. Surely Aziraphale would have known if there was a demon in the area. His brow furrowed slightly in confusion.

~Crowley's POV~

Crowley blinked. At a loss for words. The man pulled his hand after a moment and Crowley briefly allowed his eyes to examine his hand. Still feeling traces of the initial shock-like tension that had shot through his body.

He could almost see the other man's aura with him standing so close. It was almost like pure energy that radiated off of him. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He didn't want to assume anything, but the strange man certainly didn't seem fully human. And if he was, well, he was most certainly different, to say the least.

"Pleasure to meet you, Aziraphale," Crowley grumbled half-heartedly. Becoming fidgety under the other man's cheerful gaze.

"Well-" Crowley said, abruptly clapping his hands together. "I better be off, I believe I'm on after this tosser." He motioned to a scrawnier boy that was shuffling out on stage with a cello that looked twice the size of him.

~Aziraphale's POV~

"Of course, of course," replied Aziraphale, stepping aside to let Crowley through. He glanced over his sheet music again, as if he didn't already have it memorized.

He glanced furtively at Crowley, wondering what he would play. He didn't really look the part of a classical musician. He had more of a bad boy look about him. Aziraphale looked down at his own clothes: an off-white suit and vest, light blue shirt, and tartan bow tie. He hoped that he wouldn't look foolish following Crowley, who was much more sophisticated-looking than Aziraphale was.