"Oh. Yeah." Crowley shuffled his feet, looking surprisingly boyish. "Come to New York with me tomorrow?" Aziraphale blinked. "Why?" "To see how Warlock is doing," Crowley said, as if that was obvious. "Warlock?" He blinked again, and Crowley looked annoyed. Unfortunately what came out of his mouth was, "You were the one who suggested killing the boy." "It wasn't personal." Crowley took off his dark glasses, apparently the better to glare at him. "He's still our kid." "B-but, Crowley, he's not our kid," Aziraphale said helplessly, wondering if Crowley was going insane or if he was. "You're a terrible father for an angel," Crowley said, accusingly. "I'm a demon, and I make a far better mother." --- Aziraphale is almost certain that Crowley is only being perverse. But demons are unaccountable creatures, and Aziraphale finds himself flying to New York with him anyway.

Shane doesn't think this is a love story. After all, you have to be a human to love. (Shyan and Stevadandrew)

"I think I'll wait another year." Shane's in love with Ryan, and will get around to telling him. One of these days.

"Aziraphale debated internally a bit, but curling his arm up around Crowley's shoulder really was more comfortable. He knew he was being silly. He knew a dance was nothing and if it made Crowley happy after his feelings had apparently been hurt it wasn't much to ask, but-it was the demon. He had the literally infernal talent to make even the simplest, least dubious things feel like a temptation. Aziraphale knew it was Crowley's nature, and not strictly saying his fault, but it did sometimes make things feel *complicated*." Biarritz, South of France, 1921. Aziraphale stumbles on Crowley apparently working the hotels and casinos as a gigolo. At least, that's where it begins.