This is a pre-Fall fic, that assumes that Crowley was an Archangel - possibly Raphael - who fancied Aziraphale before he became a demon. For the inbox prompt - "I don't know if this was on the original drabble list but can I get "That's all I ask" for GO please?"

"Hey. You. Angel."

The angel addressed stands in the shadow of an obscenely large apple tree, staring up at the wall surrounding Eden. Eyes tilted towards the Heavens, they gaze upon the silvery stars shining bright amid a sea of deep purple infinite.

And sneer at being disturbed.

"What?"

"You're Raphael, aren't you?"

The angel shivers when he hears that voice inches from his left ear, though its owner stands more than a foot away. It's a sonorous voice … a dangerous voice. But an intriguing voice, too, if the angel is being completely honest. He's never heard it for himself - not directly from the source, always in recountings by other angels. Its existence dates a bit before his time. The stuff of legends. But he knows it nonetheless.

Mostly by the way it makes him feel.

Anxious.

Expectant.

And slightly angry.

"Depends," the angel says, sighing subconsciously as the object of his wistful gazing finally comes into view. Dressed in a flowing gown of pure white with wings spread, hair the exact same shade forming a halo around his head, outshining the golden one hovering above him, he is the truest vision of an angel those hiding hazel eyes have ever seen. With the cosmos behind him - a cosmos that his secret admirer helped create - the angel on the wall cuts a dashing figure.

The brightest star in the sky.

"Uh … you busy right now?" the voice obnoxiously persists.

"Maybe. Why?"

"I wanted to talk to you. Perhaps over a drink?"

The angel glares over his shoulder, hoping to send the intruder away, but also to make absolutely sure the voice behind him belongs to whom he thinks.

Standing in a shadow darker than his own, a shadow this demon brought with him, the angel spots glowing yellow eyes; long black hair – raven black, a match to his glossy, well-groomed wings; pearly white teeth, his fangs in particular boasting an unsettling sharpness; and pale skin, smooth as cream.

Yup. The angel nods internally. That's him.

Lucifer.

God, he is beautiful, the angel thinks. Of course that beauty is an illusion. It's how Lucifer looked in Heaven before he fell. He chooses for others to see him that way now, uses his demonic power to achieve that look, cover up what he truly is, probably to lure angels out of Heaven.

But he's not this angel's type.

He turns back to the wall.

"No thanks," he says, eyes following as the angel on high starts patrolling the Eastern Gate. "I'm good."

And that's the end of that. Or so it seems. The voice behind him goes silent while the angel continues to watch the guardian in private. For a moment, the angel forgets Lucifer was even standing there till he says softly, "You know, She won't let you have him."

"Hmm, what?"

"That angel you're mooning over. God won't let you have him."

"What do you mean?" the angel asks, defensive of his God, but followed quickly by an insecure, "H-how do you know?"

Lucifer takes a step forward, his footfalls light, barely bending a blade of grass. "Because it's one of Her rules. How She keeps you under Her thumb. You're not allowed to love anyone but Her. And Her humans. The first man and the first woman?" The demon motions to where Adam and Eve lay beside a crystal clear body of water, regarding the stars. "She made them in Her image. She favors them over you, you know? You who made the stars in the sky. Heck, She'd probably let you have a human before She'd let you have him."

The angel swallows those words hard as the Guardian of the Eastern Gate turns and starts walking back to his original post. The angel had always suspected as much, but to hear it out loud severs heart strings – ones that bound together tightly his deepest admiration of Her. But why should he believe it when it comes from the lips of a demon? This could be a trick!

What does he mean could? Of course, it's a trick!

"Maybe She has Her reasons," the angel says.

"Yeah." Lucifer chuckles. "I just told you. She's a huge narcissist."

"Why should I trust you? How do I know you're not lying?"

"Have I ever lied to you before?"

The angel scoffs. "You've never even spoken to me before. Besides, you're a demon. That's what you do."

"You've got me there." Lucifer's voice comes closer, his body moving closer with it. "But answer me this – what about God?"

"What about Her?"

"Has She ever lied to you?"

"No!" the angel snaps.

"Honestly?"

"Yes!"

"Right." Lucifer rolls his eyes. He knows blind obedience when he sees it. "Let me put it another way - does She answer your questions?"

The angel opens his mouth with another hasty response, but Lucifer jumps in before he gets a word out. "Really answers? Not that beating-around-the-bush backwards way She dodges answering, but truly answers? In a way that leaves you satisfied?"

The angel closes his mouth slowly, searching for an argument he can employ before his lips touch. He wants to defend Her, wants to find the logical spin to the way God does things. But he can't. Because he doesn't understand. She would say that he isn't meant to understand, but that doesn't make any sense. Her words have long since stopped filling him with confidence.

He's beginning to linger in doubt.

The things God does defy logic, which infuriates him since She created logic! She has devised rules for all Her creations that She Herself does not follow. Of all the questions he's asked, he's never gotten a straight answer.

Not a single one.

And he's heard, he knows, She's losing patience with him.

How much time does he have left in Paradise before he's sent sauntering downstairs to join Lucifer's ranks anyway?

Would it be better for him to fall willingly, make that choice for himself, then to have it thrust upon him?

"Why is She so opposed to us knowing the truth, hmm?" Lucifer presses. "Why this Tree of Knowledge no one's allowed to touch? What is She hiding?"

The angel shakes his head – both in defiance and in response. But his defiance is growing weak. He doesn't want what this demon is saying to make sense but it does. Shamefully, it's something he's thought himself more than once.

"If you come with me," Lucifer whispers, sharp nails lightly brushing long hair from the angel's shoulders, "you can have the best of both worlds. You'll get your answers … and your chance."

"My chance? At what?"

Lucifer snaps his fingers. The low branches pregnant with fruit that the angel has been hiding behind rise a few feet, revealing him to the moonlight … and to the angel on the wall. Frantically, he steps backwards into the darkness, but Lucifer's body stops him.

"Him," the demon says, forcing the angel out of hiding with a shove.

The angel on the wall startles at the disturbance. His attention turns to the garden, his pale blue eyes finding the tree, and its occupant, instantly. He peers down in alarm, raising a flaming sword in battle-ready position. But when he sees the Archangel loitering there, hands clasped in front of him, eyes darting nervously, the guardian angel smiles and gives him a wave.

His admirer gasps. That smile – it rivals the sun in its brilliance, takes his breath away. He waves back, heart fluttering in his chest like the beginning sparks of a new nebula, pulsing and stretching in its attempts to be birthed into the Heavens. The angel feels it just about burst through his chest, ready to join its brothers and sisters in the sky.

Lucifer puts a hand to the angel's shoulder and squeezes. "Give it some thought. My offer will stand. I can wait an eternity. Can you?"

"You're wrong," the angel says, emboldened by that smile, that wave. "I don't need your help to have a chance. I already have a chance."

"Possibly," Lucifer says, a shrug in his voice. "But consider this – he's a principality. You're an Archangel. He'll get sent to oversee the humans as they evolve, guide them as they grow. You'll get locked to Heaven, stuck creating stars till they crumble. Then, you'll make some more. You'll drift farther and farther apart as the Universe expands, and you might never see him again. Do you think God will care about your little crush? She's wrathful. Vindictive. She might do everything in Her power to ensure the two of you stay apart. Do you really want to risk it?"

"And how will falling ensure that he and I get together?"

A grin of perfect deviance burns slow on the demon's face. "Have that drink with me and I'll tell you."

Lucifer's words weed their way into the angel's ears like a thorny probiscus searching for blood, pricking his brain and bringing to light his fears and anxieties. During the time the angel has spent lurking beneath this tree, watching his guardian of the garden, he has never once found the courage to reveal himself, not even to speak a single word of greeting.

Because he'd been afraid of exactly that.

The Almighty would find out and send one of them away.

She seems to play favorites in the cruelest of ways. Being one among Her favored won't necessarily protect you from Her judgement. On the contrary. It makes you more of a target. Perhaps because She expects so much of you. The angel doesn't know.

She would never deign to tell him, and it's sacrilege to assume.

And as She has begun to tire of him and his endless questions, the angel has begun to tire of walking on the edge of a knife between favor and disgust. He didn't chose to be an Archangel, didn't choose to create nebulas and galaxies. And where he is proud of the things he's created, maybe it's time he chose his own side for a change.

A side with the chance to have that guardian angel beside him.

"One drink," the angel grumbles like a threat, stepping back into the shadows, keeping the angel on the wall ever in his sights.

Lucifer's grin completes its journey across his face. He snaps his fingers, opening a portal underground, and thinks: This was almost too easy. "That's all I ask."