Angel and the Beast (A Good Omens fanfic)

Chapter 8

The next day, Aziraphale found Crowley outside, sitting on a bench and reading.
"Doing some light reading I see," Aziraphale remarked. He craned his neck around to see the name of the book. "Much Ado About Nothing! A rather good choice if I do say so myself."
Crowley looked up and grinned, a michevious glint in his eyes. "What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?" he asked.
Aziraphale grinned back and took up the invitation. "Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signor Benedick?" he replied, sitting down next to Crowley. "Courtesy itself must convert to disdain if you come in her presence."
"Then is courtesy a turncoat," Crowley declared, gaining enthusiasm. "But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted. And I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none."
"A dear happiness to women. They would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood I am of your humor for that. I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me."
"God keep your Ladyship still in that mind, so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate scratched face."
"Scratching could not make it worse an 'twere such a face as yours were."
"Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher."
"A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours."
"I would my horse had the speed of your tongue and so good a continuer. But keep your way, i' God's name. I have done."
"You always end with a jade's trick. I know you of old." Aziraphale's tone was biting, but his eyes showed Crowley that there was no teeth to it.
Crowley smiled. "You may know me well, but methinks that there is much more to you that is worth knowing yet."
"I don't remember that being part of the script," said Aziraphale, amused.
"No, I don't believe it is," Crowley replied, smirking.
Aziraphale laughed. "Very clever," he said.

Crowley paused, taking in a deep breath. "Also, I never said thank you for not leaving me," he said. "Out in the forest, I mean."
"Well, you saved me from being eaten by wolves, so I do believe we're even," Aziraphale replied.
The sound of laughter and cheering floated down from the castle to where Crowley and Aziraphale were sitting.
"They sound like they're having a good time," Aziraphale commented.
"I nearly forgot what that was like," said Crowley. "Most people seem to think that me and 'a good time' don't really go together."
"I know how you feel," Aziraphale replied sympathetically. "I own a bookshop, but most of the people in my village aren't very fond of books at all. They think I'm a bad influence."
"Sounds insufferable. Why didn't you ever leave?" (Crowley didn't realize the hypocrisy in this until after he said it, by which point it was too late.)
"Well, they're not all completely terrible, and the village is all I've ever known really. I have always dreamt of something more, but dreaming is one thing, and actually facing the reality of it is quite another."
"Well, you found the castle, didn't you? I know it might not be exactly what you were dreaming of, but if you could find this place, there's no reason to say that you can find exactly what you've been looking for."
"Oh, you're too kind. And I must say, the castle has been looking exceptionally beautiful these past few days. I especially like the ballroom, it's wonderful in there!"
Crowley didn't really think about what he said next. It was as if the words had come to him pre-packaged, and he forgot to read the label before he sent them out. What he said was: "Well, there's no point in letting a nice thing go to waste! How about we put the ballroom to use and have a dance tonight?" By the time he fully registered what he had said, it was too late to take it back. He tried to tell himself that it was just a joke, an offhand remark. He didn't really mean what he said, did he? It's not like he would care if Aziraphale declined or anything.
However, Crowley was snapped out of his internal monologue when Aziraphale said, "Yes, that would be lovely."

"What was I thinking?"
Crowley was currently in the bathtub, lamenting his situation to whoever happened to be listening, who, as per usual, happened to be the castle staff. "I never imagined he'd actually say yes! Why'd I have to open my big mouth?"
"No, master! This is the perfect opportunity!" said Newt. "The rose doesn't have many petals left, so tonight will probably be your best chance to tell Aziraphale how you feel!"
Crowley stood up, his fur dripping wet. "I feel like an idiot," he said. "Look at me! I'm a weird wolf-bear-snake-overall weird monster! He's never gonna love me!" Crowley shook himself, spraying the castle staff with water and dousing Newt's candles.
"Try not to be too negative, master," said Newt. "You care about him, so maybe he cares about you too! You just need to let him know that you do care! Some music and nice candlelight would be a good start, I think."
"And then, when the moment's right, you'll know what to do!" Madame Tracy added.
"But what if I don't know what to do?" Crowley asked. "How do I even know when the moment's right?" He had gotten out of the bathtub, and was now dried and robed, sitting in front of the bathroom vanity.
"It'll feel like you wanna be sick," said Pepper.
"Don't overthink it master, you'll do fine!" said Newt.
"Just stop being so nervous and tell Aziraphale how you feel!" said Madame Tracy. "Or else, it'll be no more hot tea for you!"
"Or candlelight!" said Newt.
"Or accurate knowledge of the time o' day," Shadwell added.
Crowley sighed. "Fine, but I'm not making any promises," he said.
"That's more like it," said Madame Tracy. "But you can't go dancing with Aziraphale in your current state - you need a good grooming! Shadwell, would you like to lead the charge?"
"Leave it to me!" Shadwell replied, and he began barking out orders. "Brush the hair! Comb the fur! Get those knots out! Clean the teeth! Polish the claws! Shine the snout! And don't forget the dress robes!
Aye, and there you go. Not too shabby if I do say so myself."
"Well," said Crowley, "here goes nothing."

One came from the East, and one came from the West.
While Crowley had found himself wearing midnight blue dress robes with black trim, Aziraphale had opted for gold dress robes with white trim. As the two of them stood on opposing staircases, they were seemingly more different than they were similar. And yet, when they left their sides and met in the middle, they descended the final flight of stairs as equals, Aziraphale's hand on Crowley's arm.

They reached the ballroom floor, and as the two of them bowed to each other, soft music began to play.
"Tale as old as time.
True as it can be.
Barely even friends,
Then somebody bends
Unexpectedly."
Crowley was a little nervous, and uncertain of what he was doing, but with Aziraphale's reassuring smile and precise movements, it was easy to fall into a harmonious rhythm with him, and soon the two of them were gliding around the ballroom.

"Just a little change,
Small to say the least.
Both a little scared,
Neither one prepared,
Angel and the Beast."
When Crowley's father had held dances in the ballroom, they were usually rather showy affairs, flocks of noblemen and women filling the ballroom, constantly swapping partners and caring more about looking good than the person they were currently dancing with. Not like this. This was something much more intimate. It was the way Aziraphale's hands rested on Crowley's arms, and the looks he gave him, filled with trust and maybe even affection. It was the way Crowley became so immersed in the moment that it was near impossible for him to even consider overthinking anything. How could he, when Aziraphale made him feel like he couldn't put a foot wrong?
The dances that Crowley's father held were more about the visual appeal of the dancing, and the audiences they brought. But here, it didn't matter whether one person was watching them, one hundred, or none at all. All that mattered was the two figures on the ballroom floor, dancing like no one was watching, with eyes only for each other.

"Ever just the same.
Ever a surprise.
Ever as before,
Ever just as sure,
As the sun will rise."
Aziraphale liked learning new things.
When you own a small bookshop that doesn't get many customers, reading to pass the time is something that's just going to happen sooner or later, whether or not you try to avoid it. So, reading was a common pastime of Aziraphale's, and gaining new knowledge was a byproduct of this.
Aziraphale's bookshop possessed a rather sufficient collection of instructional and hobbyist books, and a few dancing books happened to be amongst them. Sometimes, when night fell and everyone had gone inside to bed, Aziraphale would light some candles in his bookshop, and practice the steps outlined in these books. "1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3..."
Aziraphale liked learning new things, and tonight he was learning that the only thing his dancing had been lacking was someone to share it with.

"Tale as old as time.
Tune as old as song.
Bittersweet and strange,
Finding you can change,
Learning you were wrong."
The more Crowley and Aziraphale danced, the more the ballroom came alive. Paintings of instruments joined in the music, candelabras conducted, and the ceiling lit up like a galaxy of stars, their golden glow filling the room. And Crowley and Aziraphale kept on dancing, spinning, twirling, and waltzing, connected to nothing but the music and each other.

"Certain as the sun,
Rising in the east.
Tale as old as time,
Song as old as rhyme,
Angel and the Beast."
As the music drew to a close, the two of them finished their dance. Crowley held out his arm, and Aziraphale took it, before the two of them walked out onto the balcony.

"Tale as old as time,
Song as old as rhyme,
Angel and the Beast."