Chapter Text
With August approaching, and therefore his annual rut, Crowley had decided it was time to break the silence. After six thousand years, he was going to ask the beautiful blond alpha he shared the Number 9 bus commute with on a date.
Well, it had been six months, but it felt like six thousand years. Six months since the stuffy looking office worker with a strange name and a penchant for tartan bow ties had started boarding the bus, igniting Crowley’s desire. It was a good thing his bullshit tech job required little actual effort, since he expended far more energy on fantasizing about possible date ideas (would the Ritz be too much for a first date?) and on what might happen afterward (being crushed between those magnificent thighs). Would Aziraphale consider sharing a rut with a fellow alpha? Crowley saw a potential partner’s designation as a minor detail, but given Aziraphale’s old-fashioned tastes, he might only date omegas.
“Hello, Aziraphale!” Crowley said as he joined the blond for the commute home, smiling perhaps a bit too brightly. When he’d first sat by Aziraphale, the blond man had introduced himself and Crowley replied with “Charmed” and then “Ciao” when he hopped off. It took a week for him to recognize his mistake and introduce himself properly. Not that Aziraphale seemed to mind. Their shared commutes were largely silent. Aziraphale spent most of it engrossed in a book, usually Jane Austen, while Crowley played games on his phone and stole glances at the blond man. How did Aziraphale make turning pages so attractive? Crowley was grateful for his sensitive eyes that required sunglasses.
“Hello, Crowley! You’re awfully cheery today.”
“Yes, well, I was wondering…do you have any exciting plans this weekend?”
“Oh, I have plenty of people to fraternize with,” Aziraphale replied, a bit too quickly.
“Fraternize?” Crowley said. An odd word choice. He suspected the other man was bluffing.
“Yes, lots of shin-digs and to-dos. I’m sure you have plenty of events to attend as well.”
“Oh, yes. Loads,” Crowley responded. That wasn’t true. Most weekends consisted of brooding and yelling at his plants. At most, he would go to a film by himself. Saturday Morning Funtimes, he called it. “But I could make room in my schedule for a nice lunch, if you’d care to join me?”
“Oh, yes. There’s this new sushi place I’ve been dying to try.”
The next day, Crowley walked into the sushi place and found Aziraphale already seated, cup of tea in hand. Crowley slithered into his seat, then pawed at the itchy patches on his neck. Scent blockers were a necessary evil in cramped spaces like the bus, but the restaurant was spacious and several other patrons had removed theirs.
“Mind if I take off my scent patches? With my rut approaching, they get even more irritating than usual.”
“Not at all,” Aziraphale replied. Then he set down the tea and stared at Crowley. “Pardon, did you say your rut?”
“I did.”
“You’re an alpha.” Aziraphale’s tone suggested this was an unwelcome development. Exactly what Crowley had feared.
“Yes. Obviously,” Crowley snarled. “What, are same designation courtships too modern for your taste?”
“Same designation…what? No! I’m perfectly fine with them, and anyone who isn’t is hardly worth courting.”
“So what’s the problem?”
Aziraphale sighed and loosened his bowtie, exposing his own scent patches. “The problem is that these are more effective than I thought.” He removed them, and Crowley was inundated with a sweet, slightly floral scent. An omega’s scent. Crowley rumbled involuntarily in response. His rut instincts, now magnified by the omega’s scent, wanted him to drag the omega to a secluded location and mark him and mate him. But he was too civilized for that.
An awkward silence enveloped the table. Aziraphale broke it. “If you wish to take leave now, I can settle the bill…”
“Leave? Why would I want to leave the date I asked for?”
“They always do,” Aziraphale said, sighing. “I don’t mind being a bit larger than the average omega. Keeps away certain negative attention on the streets.” Crowley wrinkled his nose in disgust at other alphas. “But it does get a bit—”
“Lonely?” Crowley finished. Aziraphale nodded, and Crowley’s alpha instincts wanted to hunt down everyone who had rejected this beautiful omega. “Happens the other way around too. Some folks think I’m an omega because I’m so skinny.”
“In retrospect, your surly attitude was unusual for an omega.”
“Me? Surly? Never.”