Crowley had sworn up and down that he wasn’t scared. Demons, after all, didn’t get frightened by such trivial human nonsense. That was what he had told Aziraphale—arrogantly, smugly—when the angel suggested they walk through the haunted house at the Halloween fair. It would be fun, Aziraphale had said. Harmless entertainment. Well, harmless his angel’s feathery behind!

They had barely stepped through the first darkened corridor when a grotesque animatronic figure jumped out of the shadows with a banshee-like shriek. Crowley’s sharp hiss of alarm was involuntary, and before he even realized what he was doing, he launched himself into the air. He braced himself for an undignified landing, but instead, strong arms caught him mid-fall. Crowley blinked, his panicked gaze meeting Aziraphale’s amused and slightly worried one. The angel had caught him, holding him close like a child who had climbed a tree only to realize they didn’t know how to get down.

Before Crowley could process the humiliation, another jumpscare triggered, this time a snarling werewolf lunging from a corner. A sharp yelp escaped him, and he buried his face against Aziraphale’s neck, his fingers clutching at the angel’s coat. His heart was racing—not just from fright, but from the way Aziraphale held him so securely, his scent warm and comforting amidst the chaos. Crowley was mortified, but somewhere in the tangled mess of fear and adrenaline, he realized he didn’t mind being held like this. Not one bit.