A/N: This is based off of artwork made by .com (Sorry, I don't know how to link to it)...yeah, that's really it...wow normally I put more stuff here, but I guess just enjoy!

It is well known that most demons are capable of possessing a vessel. It probably less well-known that Crowley has no need for such nonsense, as he is in possession of his own body, thank you very much. It is not known at all that in owning such a body, Crowley is subject to possession himself. This is probably due to the fact that no sensible demon would possess another of his kind. Regardless of the fact that Crowley, since the not-really-Apocalypse, had been considered by his brethren to have gone soft, demons are always unpredictable in their anger.

Unfortunately, Dogma, a demon newly arisen into being with an unfortunate name, was not aware of this unspoken demon code. He was also not very sensible. When he was tasked with "observing the humans in their natural habitat", his first priority was to find a decent vessel. It was unfortunate for him (and for a particular other agent of Hell) that Dogma rose out of the pits into London. Nervous (though he would never admit it to his superiors), Dogma headed straight towards the one thing that was familiar to him in this alien realm. Lucky for him, the man-shaped being he had chosen to possess had been asleep at the time, and was therefore unable to put up a decent fight.

And so it was that Crowley became possessed by another demon.

Aziraphale was in his back room nursing a warm cup of tea, reading his favorite Wilde play, when he heard the bell above his door jingle. The angel sighed, knowing that Crowley wasn't due for another hour (they had lunch plans), meaning that it had to be a customer.

"We're closed," Aziraphale called, taking a sip of tea and turning a page.

There was no response and not another jingle, so Aziraphale sighed again. He closed the book (no need for a bookmark, as he'd memorized the words) and set down his cup.

"I said, we're—Crowley?"Aziraphale had walked through the doorway only to be met with a very awkward demon standing by the door. "My dear, is something the matter?"

The demon shuddered, and a voice that was particularly not Crowley's croaked out, "Why do you not cower in fear?"

"Oh, dear," Aziraphale muttered, sighing for the third time. "Crowley what have you gotten yourself into?"

"I can read his mind," said the new demon. "Why does he not despise you?"

"Tell, me dea-demon," Airaphale said, "what possessed you to—er, possess Crowley?"

The demon paused, ignoring the angel. "He likes this wretched place."

"Yes, well, I can't assume brimstone smells very pleasant. And suits burn in flames. He does love his suits," Aziraphale answered primly.

Without warning, this demon lunged, shoving Aziraphale back into a bookshelf, knocking a few down. "SHUT UP, ANGEL SCUM! I WON'T HEAR ANY MORE FROM YOU!"

Aziraphale had to admit, he was a bit alarmed at the new situation. His eyes were wide and he'd forgotten how to breathe. It had been centuries since he'd seen hatred in the familiar yellow eyes directed at himself. Even then, Aziraphale wasn't sure it had been this terrifying. Or maybe he'd softened the memories over the years. In any event, this demon had to be gotten rid of.

Just as Aziraphale raised his hand to smite the demon, though, he stopped. It occurred to the angel that he might also smite Crowley in the process. The demon saw this and laughed cruelly.

"Forgotten how to fight a demon, have you?" The demon shuddered again before a cruel and knowing smile began to play on his lips. "Oh this is very interesting."

Aziraphale frowned. He wasn't sure he liked the look in this demon's eyes. He especially didn't like the fact that said demon suddenly let go of Aziraphale. The angel was too wary to make a move, but he regretted that decision when the demon suddenly leaned in close to his ear.

"He cares about you," The demon whispered, causing Aziraphale to shudder this time. "No, more than that…he-he LOVES you."

Aziraphale stepped back. He kept himself neutral—he had to, in the current situation—but he couldn't deny that there was a warm feeling in his chest in response to that statement. There was no time to analyze, though, as the demon attacked him again, grabbing his shirt collar. Aziraphale noticed that he was shaking.

"He's fighting me now," the demon laughed. "He's fighting me now because he can read my mind too. He knows what I'm planning to do to you, angel scum. How fitting that he'll have to watch as his dear angel—" he spit out the phrase like it had burned his tongue "—will suffer by his own hands."

"Oh, I do believe this is quite enough," Aziraphale said with more calm than he felt. He lifted a single finger to the demon's forehead with just enough heavenly force to get the demon out of Crowley's body. Aziraphale figured that even if he did accidentally discorporate Crowley, the serpent would rather do so than be imprisoned by his own any longer.

Aziraphale watched as black smoke escaped Crowley's mouth, leaving behind Crowley's weakened body, which fell to the floor. Aziraphale graciously moved him to the couch (easier said than done, as Aziraphale's body had begun developing a bit more paunch than he would have liked), praying that the demon he knew and…er….was still in there and just unconscious.

Determined to wait however long was necessary, Aziraphale straightened his tie (the bugger of a demon had wrinkled his shirt) and sat back down with his tea, which hadn't dared to have gone cold.

Crowley's return to consciousness hadn't been pleasant. His head was throbbing and hurt more than he thought it could ever hurt and his insides felt funny. It felt like he'd doused himself in holy water. And then the memories came back to him.

Crowley groaned and tried to sit up before realizing that that was a terrible idea. It made his head throb even more. "'Zrph'le?"

"I'm here, my dear," said a soft voice at his shoulder.

Crowley cracked one eye opened and spotted the doting-mother expression on the angel's face. He groaned again.

"So sorry about the pain, dear," Aziraphale said in his matching doting-mother tone. "I wasn't sure if I would make it worse."

"'S ok," Crowley muttered, willing the pain away. Most of it disappeared, but there was still a stinging sensation where the angel had touched his forehead. When he struggled to get up again, Aziraphale tried to help, but Crowley pushed him off. "I'm fine, angel."

"Sorry, dear," Aziraphale said, moving to sit next to him on the couch. "I wasn't sure how much I might have hurt you. I'm glad you seem to be alright."

"Yeah, I'm good now, angel," Crowley said. He put a hand on Aziraphale's arm and forced the angel to look at him. "Thank you."

Aziraphale blushed and looked away shyly, "You're welcome, dear."

Crowley smiled and felt warmth spread through his heart. Then he remembered more about what had happened and he let go of Aziraphale's arm like it had burned him. "Oh, and angel, don't think too hard about what that demon said. You know how well we can lie, especially when—"

Suddenly, Aziraphale leaned in and stopped Crowley's lips from moving by covering them with his own. The kiss was chaste and feather-light. Crowley grinned into it, his heart flaming with surprised glee. He didn't have time to return it before the angel pulled back.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying, dear?" he asked with a sly grin.

"Nothing important," Crowley replied, putting a hand in Aziraphale's curls and crashing their lips back together.

This kiss was decidedly less chaste, as Crowley felt the need to make up for lost time. He reveled in the intoxicating taste of the angel, the sighs of his contentment, the touch of his fingertips on Crowley's chest and shoulders. Crowley had just begun to get the hang of things when Aziraphale started to pull away again. Crowley chased the angel's lips, not wanting to stop, but Aziraphale was insistent.

"What, angel?" Crowley said finally as they pulled apart.

"That other demon," Aziraphale said, gasping as Crowley began to nip at his neck, but determined to speak, "wh-what if he reported back to the others?"

Crowley sighed before kissing Aziraphale again. The angel was right, of course. "Can't it wait?"

"Would you prefer we be interrupted by a summons from Down There?"

Crowley rolled his eyes and sat back. "Fine, but we're continuing this later."

Aziraphale leaned over and kissed Crowley slowly and softly. "I'll be waiting."

Crowley grinned and kissed him back. He stood up before he could convince himself otherwise and then disappeared.

Aziraphale didn't have to wait long, but with all his newfound energy, he couldn't sit still for very long. He had taken a moment to savor the memory of Crowley's kisses with a smile, but he soon jumped up and began to tidy up small things around his bookshop, pretending he wasn't pining for Crowley's return.

All sense of dignity was dropped, however, when Crowley suddenly returned, shouting from the back room, "Don't tell me you've changed your mind so suddenly, angel."

"Of course not, dear," Aziraphale called from behind a bookshelf before he bee-lined his way toward Crowley.

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's hands and said, "You'll never guess what I had to do."

"I hope it wasn't too much of a bother," Aziraphale said, allowing himself to be led back toward the back room.

"Oh, no, I didn't have to do anything," Crowley said, giving Aziraphale a peck on the lips, unable to contain his excitement.

"Really? Why's that?" Aziraphale asked.

"Turns out, you smote him so badly that he's—what was it?—damaged beyond repair? Did he really make you that mad, angel?" Crowley was giddy now.

"Well, he looked an awful lot like you, so it wasn't difficult," Aziraphale teased, pulling Crowley down to the couch with him.

"That's hardly fair, angel," Crowley responded, kissing Aziraphale again, this time lingering a little longer. "You know I'm much more graceful than he was, the blundering moron."

"Of course, dear," Aziraphale said, returning Crowley's kiss before trailing his way down the demon's throat.

"You're just saying that so I'll shut up, aren't you?"

"Mmm."

"You're more of a bastard than I gave you credit for."

Aziraphale continued his trail across Crowley's collarbone.

"Right, where were we, then?"

Aziraphale squeaked as Crowley pounced on him.

~Fin.~