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These Are The Days Of Our Lives.

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 ⧰Chapter One: The Sins Of The Flesh

 

Thick billowing steam rose and coiled above the rim of the large copper bathtub in Crowley’s ostentatiously large and lavish bathroom. The room was dimly lit by a dozen or so large church candles and their amber glow flickered and bounced off the polished surface of the Italian, gold-veined marble tiles.

Soothing scents of lavender swirled and mingled with the heady smell of fresh rain and cool night air lazily blowing in through a large, open window.

The soft pattering of light rain fell against the glass with a steady, muted tap and trickled down the fogged surface, leaving transparent trails in its wake.

The hazy grin of a crescent moon peeked out from behind a veil of wispy silver clouds and the night sky was filled with a trillion ancient, cold and beautiful stars.

Crowley had stared pensively up at them for several hours as he carefully preened his wings as best he could. It was a complete pain in the arse trying to reach some of the more haphazard coverts.

He wished that Aziraphale was here to smooth his soft, skilled fingers through them and tame them back into their usual pristine condition.

Crowley could will them into order but it just wasn't the same, Aziraphale was incredibly good with those careful, lily-white hands and he found himself feeling shivery at the thought of Aziraphale's fingers carding through his feathers.

Aziraphale was the only other being that Crowley permitted to touch or groom his wings. Nobody had dared to attempt to in at least seven Centuries and the ones that had tried had suffered a slow and particularly painful death.

Currently, the white marble floor tiles were littered with a small pile of jet black feathers. Crowley let out a sigh and gave up on his wings. He'd extended them to their full capacity and stretched them luxuriously before returning them to the ethereal plane. Along with the pile of discarded feathers lying on the floor. He watched as they glowed a bright gold and melted away into the aether.

He was currently lying perfectly motionless beneath the surface of the hot water. His eyes were closed and he was wearing a contented expression on his handsome, finely sculpted face.

He had in fact, been lounging supine beneath the water for roughly two and a half hours. Not having to bother to breathe was incredibly handy in these situations. Human form or not, Crowley had never quite managed to shake off a few of his more reptilian habits.

The water was exactly the right temperature simply because he’d expected it to be and it would go on being just the right temperature for as long as he wanted.

Rather reluctantly, Crowley pushed his head up out of the steaming water and let out a long, entirely unnecessary breath, simply because he wanted to. he extended a lazy arm over the rolled lip of the bathtub and grinned as he willed a crystal cut tumbler filled with his favourite scotch into his hand.

He raised it to his lips and took a long, indulgent sip, relishing the exquisite burn of the liquor that bloomed in his belly. He leaned back with a sigh and let out a bark of laughter.

He was still feeling quite deliciously smug at the horrified look on Gabriel’s face as he'd basked in the eternal heat of Hellfire.

He had, admittedly, been disguised as Aziraphale at the time but it didn't make it any less hilarious.

It had left him with something of a spring in his step.

Hellfire will do that to a demon.

Now that the apocalypse had been averted, all sorts of opportunities were open to him. Thanks to the stunt he and Aziraphale had pulled. They would no longer have all of Heaven and Hell breathing down their necks...

Well...At the very least...They would be breathing a little less harshly and a lot more nervously.

Crowley grinned at the fresh memory of Aziraphale recounting his request for a rubber duck and shocking Michael into handing him a towel.

Aziraphale had lain in a bath very much like this one. But Crowley's, thankfully, contained perfectly ordinary, and thoroughly less deadly water of the non-Holy variety with just a touch of English lavender.

His grin faded and he winced at the memory of Ligur's screams as the bucket containing his ‘Insurance’ descended on him.

He heard Hastur's high pitched shrieks as he watched his crony dissolve into a puddle of black slime and filthy clothing on Crowley's pristine carpet.

This thought made him suddenly less enthusiastic about being surrounded by water. Even if it was warm, perfectly safe and smelled quite nice.

He braced both hands on the sides of the tub and rose from the water with a soft hiss as a cool breeze ghosted over his naked flesh and raised goosebumps in its wake.

He closed the window with a snap of his fingers and padded across the bathroom, pausing for a moment to frown at a lanky cheese plant standing by his large full-length mirror in a tall, gilded plant pot.

He’d picked it up fairly recently and he wanted to be sure that it knew what was expected of it.

Its leaves were vibrant, luscious and perfectly in order. They were also trembling rather piteously in response to the look he was directing at it. Cringing into the wall as his cold, yellow eyes flashed dangerously.

Naked or not. Crowley was a force to be reckoned with as he stood glaring at the plant with his hands on his hips.

The plant only shook harder as he raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, before raising a hand to point a threatening and equally manicured finger at it.

His voice came out as a low, threatening hiss.

‘You know what happens to lazy, carelesss plantsss in this house, don't you? You will grow lusher and more verdant than any other plant in this house, do you hear me?'

He caged the plant in and took hold of one of its trembling leaves.

'If you even THINK about wilting or getting any of those unforgivably ugly leaf spotsss….Well...'

He jabbed his index finger in the direction of the empty pot adjacent to the one currently occupied by the petrified cheese plant.

'You know what happened to the other one…’

He let out a dark growl and smiled wickedly as the plant let out a petrified squeal and leaned as far away from him as its pot would allow.

He turned his focus to the mirror and studied his nude reflection. He looked good. young. Slim and toned in all the right places. He ran a hand lazily across the pale skin of his chest and admired the softness of it beneath his fingertips.

He gently raked his nails down his taut, finely muscled abdomen and let out a soft, elongated hiss of pleasure at the sensation. He turned slightly to admire the plush curve of his arse and grinned lewdly at the sight.

He was hot.

There was no sense in pretending otherwise.

He was vain, arrogant and prideful. Just as a demon should be

He grinned cheekily at himself over his shoulder and winked before turning away from the mirror. He extinguished the candles and padded off to his bedroom as naked as the day he was willed into existence.

He glanced over at an ornate gold candelabra on his desk and lit the six black tapered candles with a snap of his fingers before he flopped back on the enormous, plush mattress of his four-poster bed.

The black silk sheets felt amazing against his naked flesh and he writhed around happily for a moment before glancing down at his cock. He smirked vainly.

Even in its current half-hard state he was very well endowed.

He considered his next move for a fraction of a second before shrugging.

He slowly trailed the fingernails of one hand down over his chest and abdomen and gave his cock indulgent squeeze. He let out a soft hiss of pleasure and closed his eyes.

Deciding not to deny himself.

He very rarely denied himself anything.

Crowley gripped his cock tighter with a gasp, his palm now slick with summoned lube. He let out a soft moan as he slowly worked himself over with languid, steady strokes.

He trailed his free hand over his heaving chest and pinched his left nipple until it stood out in a stiff pink peak. He applied the same treatment to the other with a groan and sunk his sharp, white teeth hard into his bottom lip.

Relishing the sweet sting of pain and the coppery taste of his own blood as his cock swelled and twitched in his hand.

He gradually increased the pace of his strokes with a decadent moan, raking his nails down his chest and abdomen as he felt his orgasm begin to build low in his belly.

His breathing was becoming short and erratic and he was letting out breathy sighs and growls. Crowley cried out as he slid his thumb over the head of his cock, circling the slit until he whimpered at the slight overstimulation.

He hissed through clenched, crimson-stained teeth and quickened his pace further. Shamelessly chasing his pleasure.

He was so, achingly close now but he savoured the intense pleasure for as long as he could.

His muscles were beginning to tense and quiver and all it took was a few more slick strokes of his hand before his back arched up from the mattress and he tipped his head back on the pillows.

Crowley's blazing yellow eyes rolled back and closed and his mouth hung wide as he came across his heaving chest with a filthy, drawn-out moan.

His narrow hips bucked and twitched as he rode out his orgasm. Sobbing and writhing as he milked the last pearly drops of come from his slowly softening cock until he was shuddering and gasping.

When Crowley came down from his post-orgasmic high a few minutes later. He willed his body clean, healed the small cut on his bottom lip and settled back against the silky sheets. Feeling boneless and highly content.

He reached up to run a hand lazily through his now perfectly styled hair before pausing in thought.

He had worn it short for a little under a decade and even though that was the blink of an eye for a demon, he was in the mood for a change.

He closed his yellow eyes and when he reopened them again, Crowley's hair now hung long, luscious and curled against his pale skin, shimmering in the low light like the flames of hell.

It was exactly the same length as it had been as he stood with Aziraphale amongst the crowd of oblivious, soon to be drowned people. Squinting up at the first spots of what was going to be a very long and very deadly shower.

Crowley stood up and stretched with a contented moan and willed himself into a fresh pair of silk boxers, leather trousers, a dark red T-shirt, a black waistcoat and an exquisitely tailored black jacket with velvet lapels.

He topped it off with a pair of black, faux snakeskin boots and his customary sunglasses before he sauntered out into his kitchen.

He found himself feeling rather peckish after his carnal indulgence. Even though, as a Demon, he did not need to eat.

Crowley couldn’t be bothered actually making food for himself and found that he had a sudden craving for something sweet and decadent. He could will just about any item of food into existence but where would be the fun in that?

He let out a hum and rifled through his memory in search of a good place to eat. He supposed that he could do the Ritz but he was in the mood for something a little more authentic.

He paused on a memory of a small bakery located in 15th century Florence. There was a bloke there who made the most amazing Kouign Amann.

Ohhh what was his name…

Pastrami?

No, that was ridiculous.

Pantene?

No...No that’s shampoo innit?

Oh for Go...For Sa…

WHAT ON EARTH WAS THE OLD BUGGER'S NAME?

Oh, hang on...Panterelli! Yes! That was it!

Shame he’d had his delicious creation nicked in the 19th century.

Crowley was fairly certain that he'd probably had a hand in it but couldn't quite remember. He would have to ask Aziraphale later.

His stomach growled at the memory of the warm, flaky pastry glazed with a thick layer of caramelized sugar.

Crowley also remembered a particularly delicious Religieuse he’d eaten from a little bakery in Brittany. Oh, when was it? 1804? 1806? He wondered if it was still there.

A Religieuse is a fiendishly decadent combination of choux pastry, crème patisserie and chocolate icing. Crowley had a feeling that Aziraphale would positively salivate if presented with one.

He secretly adored the way Aziraphale fawned over fine foods, especially sweet ones.

He was an Angel, with decidedly gluttonous tastes and Crowley revelled in the delicious irony with his typical Demonic glee. 

Well then, that was that.

He would nip over to Brittany to pick up breakfast and tempt a few dozen people to sin whilst he was at it.

Then he would visit his favourite Angel at his recently restored bookshop.

He would have to tempt Aziraphale into taking a ride with him in his beloved Bentley. Crowley might even attempt to drive at the legal speed limit. Perhaps they could finally go on that picnic that Aziraphale had mentioned in the late sixties.

He let out a soft chuckle and then casually transported his form at lightning speed in the direction of Brittany.

He would be grinning like a fool if his body wasn't currently in several million tiny pieces.

Crowley made a mental note to steal enough bottles of Champagne to drown the entire population of Soho.

 

Aziraphale was utterly content with the world as he settled further back into the sofa cushions. He was clutching a willow pattern teacup in his hands and he brought it to his lips to take a long sip of earl grey, letting out a soft sigh as the warmth of the tea permeated his corporeal form.

He was rather fond of this vessel and was very pleased to be reacquainted with it. He had inhabited it for 6000 years, of course. It was only natural that he had grown rather attached to it. 

Aziraphale smiled softly and closed his eyes, feeling perfectly relaxed.

 

A second later, however. His bubble of tranquillity was quite abruptly shattered.

 

Crowley suddenly materialised onto the sofa next to him and the sound that came out of Aziraphale's mouth was a girlish and highly undignified shriek. The teacup jerked in his hand and its contents were sent flying all over his suit jacket and shirt.

'GOOD MORNING, ANGEL! I BROUGHT CELEBRATORY BREAKFAST!'

'I also liberated a few nice bottles of Dom Perignon from...'

Crowley paused in shock and almost burst out laughing at the ridiculously girly noise the Angel had made but then saw his tea-stained clothes. 

'Ah, yeah...Sorry about that, probably should have let you know I was coming...'

Crowley couldn't hold back a snort and raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale.

'Did you really just scream?’

The Angel turned bright red and was breathing as if he had just run a marathon. His mouth opened and closed for a few seconds before he found his voice and frowned at him indignantly.

'Of course, I screamed! You insufferable bloody Serpent! You scared the living daylights out of me!'

'Oh, for Heaven's sake, Crowley! this is one of my best shirts! I've kept it in perfect condition for nearly three hundred years and now look at the state of it!'

Aziraphale frowned and took in the sight of Crowley. His frown faltered as he realised just how gorgeous he looked.

He was wearing a wide, mischevious grin on his handsome face and was dressed quite indecently in black leather trousers that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

He was also, balancing a large pink box on his lap. Whilst clutching two rather ridiculously large bottles of Champagne in each hand.

Crowley looked at the pitiful sight of the soggy, agitated Angel and glanced with mounting guilt at his tea-stained clothes. He let go of one of the bottles and let it float in mid-air, then snapped his fingers and siphoned the tea out of the expensive fabric and back into the teacup.

'Better?'

He asked with a small, placating smile. the Angel huffed before nodding and set the teacup down on its designated coaster.

Aziraphale ran a fussy hand over his newly pristine shirt front and turned to frown at Crowley. But the frown didn't really have much heat to it.

‘Really, my dear, I wish you wouldn’t do that. If I was a human, I’d be dead from the shock.’

‘Well then, it’s a good job that you’re an Angel, isn’t it? You're much more resilient than them’

Drawled Crowley, setting down the bottles on a convenient side table, before sitting back into the sofa cushions and crossing his left leg over his right, careful not to jostle the box of pastries.

Aziraphale took in Crowley's long, curled hair and felt an unfamiliar rush of heat spread through his vessel at the sight. He took a few seconds to compose himself and attempted to speak in a steady voice.

'You changed your hair, I must say that It's been quite a while since I've seen it so long.'

Crowley huffed out a laugh and ran his free hand through his soft auburn curls.

'You don't like it?'

Crowley knew full well that Aziraphale had always been rather fond of his long hair

'What? No...I mean yes...I mean...It looks...Um...It becomes you very well, my dear.'

'Ohhh. It becomes me, does it? Remind me what century we're in again, Angel?'

Aziraphale felt his cheeks burn as Crowley let out a bark of laughter and continued to grin rather rakishly at him.

Crowley grinned at the sight of the flustered Angel and let out a huff of laughter.

‘After 6000 years of me willing myself into existence, you’d think you’d have gotten used to it by now.’

Crowley grinned even wider and gently nudged Aziraphale in the ribs.

‘The last time I heard you make a noise like that was in 1733. When you. Aziraphale. Principality and former guardian of the Eastern gate...Avid collector of books and resident know-it-all of Soho...'

'Decided that it would be a good idea to summon an impromptu three-course meal. Complete with dining table and fancy crockery. Into the middle of a field in Hanover.'

'And. As a result. You were chased through, said field. By a large herd of hungry mountain Goats.' 

'I mean, honestly Angel! You're a higher being! Capable of wrath and fire and brimstone and all that! And all it took was a herd of Goats to send you running off holding your lunch and screaming like a little girl!'

'It took me ages to stop laughing before I could focus enough to transport them to another part of the country.’

Aziraphale flushed scarlet and shuddered slightly, rolling his eyes at the grinning demon.

'Beastly, ravenous Animals...But whilst we're on the subject of Evil creatures...I seem to remember reading in the newspaper that 20 mountain goats were reported missing and were then found, unharmed and very full. In a well known Aristocrat's back garden.

'They'd completely decimated his entire prize-winning orchard of fruit trees and ruined his kitchen garden.'

'I don't suppose you had anything to do with it, did you?'

Crowley didn't feel the least bit ashamed. He frowned slightly as dusty memories rose in his mind. 

'Guilty as charged...But Julian Von-Hobart...Well...The man was a complete tosser.'

'Thought he was soo much cleverer and more interesting than everyone else when in reality. He was a loutish, boring, arse of a man.'

'I went to a half a dozen of his house parties. Mostly for the expensive alcohol and the food. His friends were nearly as bad as him and he really did have terrible taste in decor.'

'Every party was torturously bloody dull. Lots of him talking about himself. Bragging about how wealthy he was and how much land he owned.

'He had a nasty temper though. And that's coming from me...I mean. I'm a Demon! I'm supposed to be foul and vicious and rude!'

'But even I thought that he treated his staff like slaves. He was absolutely horrible to his Butler as well. Like to the point of actual verbal abuse. I quite liked the old bugger and it really annoyed me.'

'I remember, during the last boring dinner, I went to. He hit one of the serving girls for dropping a plate of fancy appetisers.'

Crowley broke off with a small growl and frowned.

'The poor girl couldn't have been much older than 13. Wasn't right. Y'know?'

Crowley watched as Aziraphale's face flushed with indignation and his light blue eyes flashed.

Crowley's frown morphed into a dangerous smile that was all sharp, pointed teeth.

'Don't worry too much, Angel. He definitely got his comeuppance. The Goats were just for fun.'

'You see. I'd been in the area for quite some time before I caught up with you and I'd seen all I could stand of Baron Von-Hobart.'

'He got into quite substantial debts. Found himself embroiled in a scandal and fell to ruin.'

'By the time I was done with him, he died at the age of 47, destitute and alone.'

'Nobody bothered to turn up to his pauper funeral. I know. I was the only one there...'

'I remember standing over the cheap, pine coffin. Staring down into that haggard, world-weary face and just smiling.'

'Had to get back at him somehow without murdering him myself. Even though he wouldn't have been missed...' 

Crowley broke off as he saw the look on Aziraphale's face and hurried on before he fainted in distress.

'Gave him the clap in 1734 for good measure...Really couldn't resist.'

Aziraphale had begun to turn white as Crowley meandered on through his mountingly gruesome account. But found himself bursting out laughing by the end of it. He smiled fondly at the Demon. and felt a rush of affection for him.

He knew that the Demon would strangle, or at the very least, threaten him with violence for saying so. But sometimes. Crowley possessed more kindness and compassion than almost every, single Angel Aziraphale had ever met, combined.

It was at that moment that he got a whiff of something that smelled absolutely scrumptious. Aziraphale eyed the alarmingly pink box in Crowley’s lap and felt his cheeky yellow gaze watching him.

He looked up to find Crowley still grinning at him in that borderline lecherous way of his.

'Would you like to see what I brought for Breakfast? I have a feeling you’re really going to like it.'

'It’s not crepes before you even ask, not brioche either, but I think you’ll enjoy it all the same, maybe even more.’

Crowley grinned as Aziraphale smiled and nodded excitedly, he felt a warm sensation spread through his chest at the sight of him, so easily pleased by anything rich and decadent.

He carefully lifted the lid of the box to reveal six freshly baked Religieuse pastries, nestled into lacy paper cases.

Crowley could feel the warmth of them radiating through the box and felt it mingle with the warmth he felt from Aziraphale's delighted smile.

‘Oh my, those look absolutely delicious! Consider me tempted!'

'I’ll go fetch us some plates and glasses.’

 

Crowley smiled to himself as Aziraphale stood up and walked out of the room in the direction of the kitchen.

He gestured vaguely at the Champagne bottles and chilled them down to the perfect temperature before settling back into the comfortable sofa and waiting for the Angel to come back with the glassware and crockery.

Crowley was sure that they would be frou-frou pattered ones.

He hoped they were.

They suited the Angel down to the ground.

 

Aziraphale felt decidedly flustered as he hurried into his kitchen to fetch plates and glasses.

He dithered in front of his elegantly carved mahogany sideboard before deciding that in light of the recently averted apocalypse he would use his very best china.

It was Windsor blue with an intricate gold filigree pattern around the edges, he’d had the tea set since 1852 and it had nary a chip or a scratch on its fine, glazed surface. He’d received it as a gift from the Royal family for lending his extensive collection of books on flora and fauna to the Prince Consort.

He’d grown quite close to Her Majesty and her ever-growing family and was always happy to be asked to come for tea and scones with her when she was in residence at Balmoral castle in Scotland or at Osbourne house on the Isle of Wight.

He couldn't say he blamed The Queen for being in London as little as possible. He was never all that fond of Buckingham Palace either. Much too stuffy, even for him.

Aziraphale much preferred the Palace of Versailles with its breathtakingly beautiful hall of mirrors and its gloriously intricate gardens.

He spent a full minute turning a delicate crystal cut champagne flute in his hands with a slight frown on his face. He wondered why on earth Crowley had decided to return his hair to its luscious former glory of long, thick curls after so many Centuries.

Crowley had always been incredibly handsome and pleasing to look at, there was absolutely no way of getting around that.

But seeing his hair looking as it had as they stood side by side. Watching the animals board the ark as if it was yesterday, woke some rather complicated feelings inside him that he couldn’t afford to examine very closely at present.

Aziraphale sighed and shook his head, pulled a small silver tray from the sideboard and arranged two china plates and the champagne flutes, almost reverently upon its highly polished surface.

He pulled himself together and headed back to the obscenely and unfairly handsome Demon lounging on his sofa.

 

 

Chapter Text

 

⧰Chapter Two: Recollections⧰

 

Crowley looked up with a fond grin as Aziraphale came bustling back into the room clutching a silver tea tray in his hands. He watched intently as he crossed to the middle of the living room and set the tray down on a polished side table near the large marble fireplace.

The table was bookended by two large, comfortable wingback chairs, bedecked with green, finely grained leather and the whole affair looked thoroughly inviting.

He gripped the box more securely in his hand before he stood up, stretched luxuriously, summoned the bottles to the table and crossed the room. He placed the box next to the tray and then sunk down into one of the chairs with a pleased sigh.

Aziraphale smiled fondly and took his place in the armchair opposite he settled back into it with a sigh and willed the delicious smelling pastries onto the plates. He leaned forward and offered a plate to Crowley. The Demon took it with a grin and Aziraphale eagerly picked up the second plate.

He settled back into the chair with a happy sigh and balanced the plate on his lap. He smiled at Crowley and then had to swallow hard and stifle a noise as he watched the demon pick up the pastry and flick his pointed pink tongue out over the cream smothered surface. He hurriedly looked away and almost jumped when Crowley spoke.

‘Aren't you going to try yours? I can assure you that it’s very, very, good, one might even call it sinfully good…’

Aziraphale fought to contain the flush of heat spreading over his skin at the teasing tone in the Demon’s voice. He felt tongue-tied and flustered and the bastard probably knew it.

Incorrigible beast!

He busied himself with the pastry just for something to distract himself. He examined it for a few seconds and then brought it to his lips, taking a carefully measured bite.

Ohhhh good lord, it was perfect, so rich and unctuous, it made his tastebuds sing with joy. He tried (and failed) to contain a soft moan of delight and felt himself definitely blushing.

Crowley looked up at the sound of Aziraphale’s soft moan and felt a strange sensation slice through his perpetual bravado. He managed to cover it up with a fond smile as he took in the sight of the embarrassed Angel.

His cheeks were stained a fetching shade of pink and he was pointedly avoiding his teasing gaze. He decided for once, to take pity on the Angel and changed the subject.

‘Are those from the set you got from Queen Victoria?’

Aziraphale nodded and went back to eating his pastry, being careful not to make any more embarrassing noises.

‘I was rather fond of Victoria. Quite tiny but also quite terrifying in her own right! Very clever too. She was a Woman who didn't mince her words!'

'Didn’t really get on with her husband though, much too prudish and serious for my tastes.’

‘He was a very intelligent and virtuous man! I travelled with him for some time and found him to be very agreeable company.’

Crowley snorted and put down his pastry.

‘Very agreeable company? Are you quite sure we’re talking about the same person?'

'Because the Albert I remember was a dull, humourless prat who walked like he had a red hot poker shoved up his-‘

‘CROWLEY!’

‘Sorry…Sorry, I liked his son though. Bertie, I mean.'

'I showed him all the wonders and temptations of Paris.’

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and sighed at Crowley with exasperation. 

‘Yes, and he only reigned for nine years because you tempted him to sin as soon as you could get your hands on him.'

'You corrupted him with loose Women and destroyed his body with unhealthy amounts of alcohol, cigars and laudanum!’

Crowley shrugged and scarfed down the rest of his pastry to avoid replying. It was true that he was at least 50% responsible for the demise of poor old Bertie...

But damn. It had been fun while it lasted.

There had been copious amounts of hideously expensive alcohol, along with various other intoxicants...Adultery, debauchery and of course, high stakes card games.

He wasn't all that fond of gambling himself but it did, whatever passed for his heart, good, sitting back in his chair with a full glass of expensive port and an even more expensive cigar, watching a room full of haughty aristocratic men fall to ruin under his Demonic influences.

It was actually he who had been responsible for the infamous baccarat scandal of 1890 and he’d had to erase their memories of that fateful night and plant false memories into their minds.

He’d framed a bloke named William Gordon-Cumming. Even now the man’s name made him snicker childishly and well...With a name like that...

The bugger was asking for trouble.

He leaned forward to put down his empty plate on the tray and leaned back into his chair with a sigh. He glanced at the bottles of champagne on the table and quirked an eyebrow at Aziraphale, gesturing to the empty glasses.

‘Shall I do the honours then? I acquired these from a heavily guarded wine cellar in Brittany. The guards seem to have miraculously left the door unlocked and didn’t even notice me slip past them into the cellar.'

Crowley paused to grin at Aziraphale's staunch look of disapproval.'

'It’s bloody massive, goes on for miiiiiles, all sorts of rare and vintage wines and Champagnes hidden down there, you’d love it.’

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and glanced with acute exasperation at the stolen bottles before huffing out a soft sigh and shrugging delicately. He smiled a little as Crowley willed it into the Champagne glasses.

He did it with a casual snap of his fingers that he somehow managed to do elegantly and effortlessly.

(Bloody show off)

‘What are we drinking to this time?’

Asked Aziraphale, willing the champagne flute into his hand and smiling softly at the Demon who was grinning warmly back at him, clutching his glass in one hand and looking more handsome than he had any bloody right to.

He fought to keep his face relaxed and looked down instead at Crowley’s long, elegant fingers curled around the delicate etched glass.

‘Dunno really, to not being dissolved in a bath of holy water I suppose. I did enjoy the Hellfire though. great stuff, Hellfire. Really leaves you feeling invigorated.’

Aziraphale shuddered at the thought and took another sip of his Champagne.

‘I really wouldn't know, I'll stick to holy water if it's all the same to you. Although, I really would have loved to have seen the look on Gabriel’s face when you shot a blast of Hellfire at him.

'Ohhhh, it must have been almost as good as watching Beelzebub trying to control a courtroom full of rather worried demons.’

Crowley laughed heartily and smiled as they clinked their glasses together. He lifted his glass to his lips and was about to take a sip but paused with a devious grin on his face.

‘To unnerving the opposition and to getting quite insensibly drunk now that we’re not all going to die!’

Aziraphale’s tinkling laugh made Crowley’s chest feel warm as he huffed out a small chuckle and took a long sip of his iced Champagne.

He silently vowed to drink an entire wine cellar's worth of Dom Perignon before the night was out.

Chapter Text

 

Chapter Three: Intoxication⧰

 

Aziraphale squinted at Crowley through the murky haze of his Champagne tainted mind and grinned affectionately as he watched him swan around the room, gesticulating wildly and he smiled fondly as the Demon paused to lean against the fireplace and threw back his head to let out a booming, unrestrained laugh.

Crowley had discarded his sunglasses some time ago after they kept flying off and breaking every time he spun around in response to something particularly amusing Aziraphale had said.

Aziraphale never got tired of watching the Demon now staggering around his sitting room. He was simply fascinating and quite utterly singular. So wonderfully animated...So...Devastatingly bloody hanso...

Oh dear...Aziraphale really shouldn't drink this much Champagne on only a few pastries. He felt Crowley's eyes on him and shuddered a little under his gaze.

In 6000 long and highly eventful years, Aziraphale had never quite gotten used to Crowley’s intently piercing yellow-gold eyes. Even more so the fact that said pair of eyes were usually obscured by dark glasses and it was impossible to tell what he was really thinking.

The eyes, Humans have always been fond of saying, are the windows into the soul...But souls were a touchy subject for Fallen Angels.

Aziraphale laughed loudly as he watched Crowley put out a hand to steady himself on the edge of his chair and miss entirely. Crowley crumpled into a heap on the plush carpet and dissolved into a fit of drunken giggles.

It made Aziraphale's heart burst with happiness to see his best friend so happy and so at ease with life and his fingers itched with a fleeting urge to reach down and ruffle Crowley’s soft looking curls. He bit his lip and stopped himself at the very last moment before Crowley lifted his head up to grin lazily at him.

Aziraphale was so caught up in his own thoughts and was now so ridiculously drunk, that he realised he’d missed most of what Crowley had been talking about. 

‘And then she slapped me right across the face! In Broad daylight and everything! Broke my favourite pair of shades!'

'Well. As she was stalking off towards her charges. An unexpected gust of wind blew her habit right up over her head!'

'And d'know what was underneath?'

'Scarlet drawers.'

'A very. Very. Lacy French Chemise.'

'AND NO CORSET!’

Aziraphale gaped and blinked owlishly down at the lithe, prostrate demon with a look of bemused confusion on his face.

Had he actually heard that right?

‘Who uh...Who exactly are you...Um...Right. Question number one...Who’s scarlet dra…Unmentionables, are you talking about?'

'And question number two...Did you have anything to do with the 'unexpected' gust of wind?’

Aziraphale blushed as Crowley’s eyes glinted with mirth and his lips pulled up into a wicked grin. He cleared his throat as quietly as he could and busied himself with another long sip of Champagne.

Crowley hauled himself up by the arm of the chair and sank down into it. He willed another glass of Champagne into his hand and eyed Aziraphale with a look of intense amusement at his choice of words.

‘Did you really just call women’s knickers Unmentionables?'

'In answer to your first question. I was talking about a certain, Sister Mary Constance who ran a Convent in London during the Victorian era...'

'Look, Crowley. I really. Really don't want to know what you were doing at a Convent and...'

Crowley cut off Aziraphale's next sentence and ploughed on ahead as if he hadn't heard him.

'Well. Anyway. She turned out not to be quite as virtuous a Nun as everyone thought and which I was soon to discov...'

Aziraphale looked aghast and hurriedly interrupted Crowley before he could finish.

'CROWLEY! DO SHUT UP! YOU SALACIOUS SERPENT!'

'Crowley had the sense to feel slightly abashed at the sight of the Reddening Angel.

'Right! Right! Angel...Sorry, but, as I was saying before I was sooo rudely interrupted...In answer to your sssecond question...M' a Demon, what d'you think?’

 

A few hours later, the day had given way to bustling evening. The lights had been dimmed and a substantial amount of empty champagne bottles now littered the near overflowing side tables.

Crowley had launched into one of his tangents on the subject of his fall from grace and Aziraphale had nodded and offered the same words of comfort he had used for thousands of years.

As predicted, Crowley had quickly brightened and began to ramble on about how much he enjoyed being a demon.

He really was the true definition of a walking, or, more accurately...Sauntering contradiction.

 

Now came Aziraphale's turn to dissolve into a puddle of mental anguish and Crowley always dreaded it. Not because it irritated him. But because he couldn't bear to see the Angel upset.

'And...Well, like that awful drill sergeant told me back in Heaven...I really am a pathetic excuse for an Angel...And...'

Crowley couldn't stand to hear Aziraphale talk about himself like this and he cut him off somewhat sharply.

'That's a load of Bollocks, Aziraphale! And you bloody well know it!'

'Don't let some twat in a uniform talk down to you for wanting to do the right thing! I mean, honestly Angel! You're better than all of those high and mighty. Holier than thou. Stuck up bastards put toget...'

Crowley broke off as he realised in his alcohol-clouded mind, that he was losing his grip on his verbal filter. He felt a flush of heat stain his cheeks. He dared to look up from his glass and found Aziraphale smiling radiantly (If, somewhat blearily) at him and he was also blushing delicately

Bloody hell! Does he have to smile like that?

Oh, no. He's blushing...

Fuck! I'M BLUSHING!!!

Oh, Lord. PLEASE JUST DISCORPORATE ME NOW!!!

 

Aziraphale cleared his throat and felt his eyes becoming slightly misty around the corners. He glanced almost shyly at Crowley and found him staring into his Champagne flute and biting his lower lip. Aziraphale had to swallow hard and look away. He took a shaky sip of his Champagne and shuddered as the chilled liquid flooded his insides with ice.

When he looked up again, Aziraphale's heart stuttered in his chest. Crowley was STILL biting his lip and was now gently running a long, manicured finger up the side of his Champagne flute.

 Good lord. PLEASE! Stop doing that!!!

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale and felt his stomach flip as he took in the sight of the Angel. He seemed to be glowing and looked quite disgustingly happy.

(Not to mention, quite drunk)

Crowley smiled warmly and huffed out an affectionate laugh. He raised his glass to his lips and downed the rest of his Champagne with a small belch before refilling his glass with a grin.

'You do get awfully bloody melancholy sometimes when you're smashed. Angel. But you really shouldn't torture yourself like this! You have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about! I mean, for Heaven's sa...'

Crowley broke off with a strangled squawk and a shudder. Wincing at his slip.

Aziraphale giggled at him and all it did was make Crowley blush harder and let slip more disgustingly affectionate words before he could shut up. Crowley growled softly and rolled his golden eyes at Aziraphale.

'I like you just the way you are, Angel. Stupid tartan bow-ties and all!’

Aziraphale's mouth opened and closed for a few seconds and then he blushed an even deeper shade of crimson at the sound of the Demon's candid compliments.

They filled his heart with timid joy.

Aziraphale took another long gulp of Champagne and then set his glass down haphazardly on the table. Completely missing the designated coaster. He let out a snort as he squinted at the Stupidly handsome. Inebriated Demon in front of him. He was blushing so prettily that Aziraphale couldn't help but break out into drunken titters at the sight.

‘Tartan. Is. Stylishh!’

'No. It. Bloody. Well. Isn't!'

'I couldn't wait to get back into my own clothes.'

'Not to mention my own body!’

Crowley stifled a moan of mortification as he realised what he'd just said and coughed loudly in embarrassment. Aziraphale seemed not to have noticed his slip and was still giggling like a three-year-old.

Shut up, you nonce! You're cute and ridiculous and I loathe you for it!

Aziraphale wheezed and gasped for breath before picking up his Champagne again with a slightly shaking hand. He drained it with a satisfied smack of his lips and then grinned somewhat wickedly at the Demon.

‘Do you really have to wear trousers that bloody tight? I could barely walk!!! And...Crowley, my dear...Do tell me...What...In the name of the LORD...Is wrong with your hips?'

 

Several dozen more glasses of Champagne were consumed by the two of them in the next hour or so. Crowley had Youtube loaded up on his phone and was halfway through a passionate, melancholy chorus of Queen's 'No one but you.' When his stomach rumbled and almost scared him to death. Sneaky bloody organs...

He never really felt hungry. Well, not in the way Aziraphale did. But when he was this hideously drunk, he always ended up feeling ravenous.

He blearily turned off the song with a small hiccup and turned to grin fondly at the Angel.

‘Mm’starving…could you eat? I could eat…How bout the Ritzzzz…Zzz’orr the Sssavoy?'

‘Oooooh, I like the Savoy…I hear that Gordon Ramsay does the most delightful Isssp…Ispaah…Ispahan...'

'Y’know, Thhe’one with raspberries and lychees in it?’

‘Ohhh, I want some Oysters too….Sssooo glad you finally got around to temping me to try them.'

'Even if it did take you two and a half thousand yearsss.’

‘We should sober up…I, I can’t diss...Dissgr...Make a fffool of myself in front of a room full of people...’

‘I’m sssorry, but I seem to remember you making an absolute tit out of yourself in front of a group of kidsss’swhen you were completely sober!’

‘Ohh ssshutup, you old Ssserpent. I was having a bad day! Now. Are you going to bloody sssober up or not?’

Crowley let out a long, dramatically exaggerated -sigh and nodded hazily at the inebriated Angel. He let out a noise of displeasure and winced as he purged the alcohol from his vessel.

He grimaced at the unpleasant aftertaste in his mouth and summoned a piece of chewing gum onto his tongue before chewing on it with a shudder as the temporary hangover swept through him. He glanced over at the Angel who was wincing and straightening his bowtie with a slightly shaky hand.

Aziraphale looked at him with a wan smile and Crowley felt something tighten in his chest at the familiar expression of affection on the Angel’s face.

'Well. If we’re planning on dining at the Savoy...I suppose I should slip into something a little more uncomfortable...’

Crowley let out a sigh and with a snap of his fingers, he was now once more bespectacled and smartly dressed in an exquisitely tailored black Armani suit, a black silk waistcoat, a crisp burgundy shirt and a black tie. He chuckled at Aziraphale’s look of gobsmacked surprise and bounded to his feet with a grin.

'Come on! A table for two has just opened up!'

 

Aziraphale's mouth fell open of its own accord and colour rose in his cheeks.

Crowley looked absolutely delicious.

He stared, entranced at the Demon's obscenely swaying hips. Watching with a rising pulse and quickening breaths as they moved so lithely and bloody suggestively.

Wicked Creature!

Seeing Crowley in such a sharp suit wasn't something Aziraphale was used to. But it was something he found he liked very. VERY. Much. Good Lord. It positively clung to his long, lithe form like it had been made for him.

(It bloody well had, of course...The dashing bastard)

Aziraphale turned a dark, fiery shade of red as he realised three things in quick succession.

Number one: Exactly 'Where' he had been staring...

Number two: Exactly ‘What’ he’d been staring at...

And number three: Exactly Who 'It' belonged to...

For Heaven’s sake! Did he really have to wear trousers that bloody tight?

Did he really think that it was necessary to leave so little to the imagination...Not that Aziraphale was imagining anything...He was an Angel...Angels should not ‘Ogle’ their best friend.

Especially when their best friend was a Demon!

Aziraphale shuddered delicately, bit his lip and hurriedly looked away. He focused instead, on the soft whispering retreat of expensive fabric and then the tinkling sound of the bell as Crowley opened the door and stepped out onto the street.

He watched as the minute dust motes tumbled and swirled in the air. Aziraphale could smell the Demon's decedent cologne permeating his vacated space and sighed as it filled him with a rush of content bliss.

It was perfect.

It smelled like home.

The heady top notes of the cologne mixed and complimented the musky scent of thousands of ancient tomes and trinkets that he had picked up through the Centuries. They all blended perfectly around Crowley's natural scent and made his pulse race and his head muddled.

Aziraphale let out a shaky breath and rubbed an elegantly manicured hand over his brow. He willed himself into a fawn coloured suit jacket and an impeccably white shirt with antique gold cufflinks.

He decided to try something new and waved his had over his collar. He now wore a dark blue bowtie with an intricate gold damask pattern. He decided he rather liked it. Aziraphale jumped at the sudden sound of Crowley’s voice as he materialised in front of him.

‘That Blue looks good on you. Really brings out your eyes.'

'Now do stop dithering and get in the car. She’s been dying to get back out on the road.’

Aziraphale opened his mouth to admonish the Demon for making him jump, but instead. He only gaped at his retreating form.

Trying (and failing) to process his flippant compliment.

His cheeks were burning like Hellfire and his tongue felt heavy and uncooperative in his mouth. He decided that he would for once, in his long life. Do as he was told and hurried off after Crowley.

Aziraphale dithered at the door before locking up with a wave of his hand. He was unable to keep an affectionate smile from slipping onto his face as he watched Crowley running a loving hand over the car’s gleaming black bonnet and murmur words of affection to it.

‘GET IN THE CAR, ANGEL! I’M FAMISHED!'

‘Oh, yes, I do apologise, I was just-‘

‘SOMETIME THIS CENTURY, IF YOU DON’T BLOODY MIND!’

Aziraphale laughed, smiled warmly at the impatient demon and hurried to the car. He climbed in (Somewhat reluctantly) and his serene smile was soon replaced by a look of sheer terror.

Aziraphale clung onto the Car's polished leather interior for dear life. As Crowley sped through the city at 90 miles an hour, belting out Queen's. 'Headlong.' At the top of his voice.

Crowley swerved around a corner at an excess of 70 miles an hour and pulled up on the Strand in front of the opulently decadent Savoy hotel. Still singing loudly and cheerfully.

'But there ain't no stopping and you can't stop rockin! And there's nothin' you can, nothin' you can
Nothin' you can do about it!!!'

Aziraphale rolled his eyes fondly and found he had been tapping along to the upbeat track without realising it. Crowley's voice was quite remarkably good and the sound filled him with happiness.

Crowley shut off the engine, cutting off Brian May's spine-tinglingly good solo and turned to grin affectionately at the sight of a slightly ruffled Angel in the passenger seat.

Crowley stepped gracefully out of his car and a smartly dressed employee hurried over to him. Crowley plastered a charming smile onto his face and handed over his car keys.

Just as the man was about to turn away, Crowley grabbed his shoulder. He tightened his grip and glared at him sternly.

‘Young man...If I see so much as a SCRATCH...I’ll be very. VERY. Cross. And you really...REALLY. Wouldn’t like me when I’m cross.’

The young man quailed under his threat and his strong grip and wrung his hands nervously. Evidentially terrified but very well trained.

‘I...No...Uhhm...I wont...I mean..I...I will make quite sure to be very. VERY. Careful with your car...Will...Will that be all. Sir?’

Crowley let go of his shoulder with a nod and then waived him off. The terrified man looked as if he was about to bow. Or even courtesy. But evidently. He seemed to think better of it and hurried away to park Crowley's Car. Crowley made sure to keep his glowing bespectacled eyes firmly trained on the man until he heard Aziraphale make a noise of disapproval in his direction. He turned to see him leaning against a pillar with his arms folded. Looking a little exasperated.

‘Did you really have to be so stern to the poor fellow, my dear?’

Crowley snorted and rolled his eyes as they began walking to the front door, which was manned by two stiff, smartly dressed doorman.

Aziraphale just didn’t get it.

He LOVED that car.

It was as much a part of him as his wings and he loathed letting it out of his sight after recently seeing it explode into fiery shrapnel before his eyes.

If demons were able to weep, Crowley would have bawled his reptilian eyes right out of his skull.

 

The Savoy Grill looked both familiar and unfamiliar to Aziraphale as he glanced around the finely decorated dining room. He had dined here last with Oscar Wilde in the 1880s. It hadn't escaped Aziraphale's notice that they were the only ones in the dining room and he wondered suspiciously if Crowley had anything to do with it.

They found themselves seated at the best table in the house and were presented with a few complimentary glasses of Mimosa whilst they waited for their food to arrive.

Crowley sent the obliging waiter away with their order of a large bottle of Muscadet. 24 rock Oysters and some of those fancy French cakes Aziraphale had mentioned earlier. He clinked his glass with Aziraphale and then stretched out in his seat before taking a long sip of the Mimosa. Sighing as the bright taste danced on his tastebuds.

They sipped their drinks in contented silence and Aziraphale couldn't help but smile at how nicely everything had worked out. The world was no longer ending and he and Crowley were finally free.

So many opportunities presented themselves to his rapid-firing mind and he wanted to share as many of them with Crowley as possible.

Aziraphale's heart glowed as he took in the sight of Crowley, dressed so sharply and posing so perfectly in his chair. He radiated such an air of effortlessly reckless seduction that it made his skin grow hot and his heart hammer against his ribcage. Aziraphale took another sip of his drink and swallowed hard before attempting to speak. Hoping that his voice would come out steady.

'I wonder if Gordon is here today, oh, I do hope so, It’s been simply ages since I last saw him.

Aziraphale glanced around the beautifully furnished room. Trying very hard to stop staring at the impeccably dressed demon lounging opposite him.

As if on cue. A harassed-looking waiter came hurrying out of the kitchen with a small trolley containing a silver tray piled high with Oysters, lemon wedges and crushed ice. A stacked tray of fancy, delicious looking cakes. A bottle of chilled Muscadet and two glasses.

The waiter placed everything on the table with slightly shaking hands and murmured that he would be on hand. should they need anything. Anything at all! Before he scuttled off in the direction of the kitchen again.

The door to the kitchen hung ajar just long enough for a very familiar and very angry voice to issue out into the dining room.

Crowley let out a snort and eyed Aziraphale with affectionate glee.

 

‘Oh yeah...He’s here alright.’

 

 

All in all. Today had been an absolute pleasure. Thought Aziraphale happily as he climbed into the passenger seat of the Bentley. Minus, of course, Crowley appearing out of thin air and scaring him half to death. He felt pleasantly full from their dinner at the Savoy and he’d managed to tear Gordon away from his kitchen for just long enough to have a nice little chat with him.

Aziraphale glanced over at Crowley and found that he was staring out of the windscreen at the dark rain-washed city with a pensive, troubled look on his face. His lips were drawn into a tense line and the streetlights outside cast his face in a faint amber glow. Making the surface of his sunglasses glitter like flames.

Crowley turned to look at the Angel in the passenger seat and found him studying him. He looked happy and content, as he usually did, but there was something almost…Almost...

Crowley must have stared a little too long at Aziraphale as a second later, a horn blared and he looked up just in time to swerve out of the way of an oncoming car. Crowley chuckled at Aziraphale's exasperated cry of

‘WATCH THE BLOODY ROAD!!!’

Crowley pulled up outside Aziraphale’s bookshop and switched off the engine. He cut Freddie off halfway through a rousing chorus of ‘I want it all’ and turned to smile weakly at Aziraphale. He watched as the Angel released his death grip upon the car’s vintage upholstery and gave him a weary yet fond look that did strange things to Crowley's insides.

He stared resolutely at the steering wheel and suddenly felt unusually and uncomfortably tongue-tied. Thankfully, Aziraphale broke the silence.

‘I know that you’re rather averse to words of gratitude...My dear...But I really did have a lovely time today...

'So...Thank you. For…Well...There it is…Can I tempt you into having a nightcap before you go?’

Crowley swallowed convulsively and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He didn’t want to be thanked. People didn’t say thank you to Demons and more specifically. ANGELS did not thank you to Demons.

And then there was Aziraphale. This infuriatingly wonderful creature that Crowley adored against his own will and his hard-wired Demonic nature.

They were mortal enemies. But Crowley found that it was utterly futile to resist the Angel.

The urge to give Aziraphale a snarky comeback passed quickly through his mind. But when he saw just how happy the Angel was he decided against it. He too had rather enjoyed their day together and didn’t want to spoil an otherwise pleasant moment between them.

‘Don’t mention it, Angel. No, really, don't! Honestly, Aziraphale, you're such a sentimental old bastard sometimes!'

'Ohhh, go on then, suppose one more drink couldn’t hurt.’

Crowley felt his chest tighten at Aziraphale's look of delight. He seemed to be glowing with happiness and he had to swallow and look away. They exited the car and hurried to the front door of the bookshop. Eager to get in out of the torrential downpour of rain. Once inside, Aziraphale bustled off into his back room. Muttering about a particularly nice vintage he’d been keeping for such an occasion.

Crowley smiled tightly and followed Aziraphale to his sitting room. The champagne bottles from earlier had vanished and a roaring fire was already crackling merrily.

Aziraphale could be heard humming to himself and clinking about in his storeroom and Crowley let out a conflicted sigh as he flopped down into one of the armchairs by the fire and waited for the Angel to return to him.

One drink.

He told himself.

ONE. SINGLE. DRINK.

That was all and then he would go home. Threaten his plants and then.

Then he would...Ohh. Honestly...Who in all of Heaven and Hell was he kidding?

He was Crowley…

He NEVER only had one drink.

 

As predicted, it was after Dawn before Crowley finally staggered out of the bookshop. He lurched into his car and grimaced as he sobered up, feeling tetchy and agitated. So many confusing thoughts about a certain Angel were stampeding around his head that he felt as if it would explode.

He gritted his teeth and gripped the steering wheel hard as he started the engine, growling darkly and muttering a few of his favourite swear words under his breath as Freddie started crooning. 'Somebody to love.' At him, on an indecently high pitched note.

Crowley sped through the sleepy, sun-stained streets. Setting off on what was probably going to be a very long drive. His mind was a chaotic tangle of half-formed thoughts, as he bit his lip hard and tried to hit as many early morning commuters as he could.

 

 

Chapter Text

 

Chapter Four: Yours Anxiously⧰

 

Crowley did not return the next day.

Or the next.

The seconds, minutes and hours dragged on. And by the 12th day of Crowley's absence, Aziraphale was beginning to grow frantic.

He could not reach out to anyone. Above or Below. For fear of them becoming too interested in either himself or Crowley again.

Aziraphale had spent Every. Single. MISERABLE. Day. Locked away in his dusty old bookshop, alone with his thoughts and his fears running rampant in his head. He felt utterly delirious with panic and there was nothing left in the whole entire world to moor him to his sanity.

Aziraphale had turned the sign on the door to closed after the eighth day, no longer able to bear the presence of Humans. He couldn't stand the way that they went about their simple, uncomplicated lives whilst he suffered such tremendous agony.

Aziraphale paced the ancient floorboards of his shop. Wringing his hands with worry and leaving increasingly concerned voicemails on all three of Crowley's phones. His heart constricted painfully in his chest and he couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible had happened to Crowley.

Oh, Lord...

The very thought made his wings shudder violently and his blood run cold.

Aziraphale had looked everywhere he could think of. But he hadn't picked up Crowley's unforgettable scent or presence at any of The Demon's usual haunts.

He knew at least a thousand other places that Crowley might be lurking, but after two weeks of searching and with mounting frustration. Aziraphale had had no success in locating the AWOL Demon.

By the 26th day. He was utterly beside himself with worry.

He had spent most of the week sitting frozen with his hands clenched into fists on the expensive leather of the armchair, with unshed tears in his eyes, not even blinking them away or bothering to breathe.

Aziraphale's clothes were rumpled and his hair was as unkempt looking as his wings. He hadn't the mental strength to keep them contained in the ethereal plane any longer and they felt like great structures of lead attached to his back. Weighing him down and restricting his movements. 

He had little to no appetite and barely even ate. Even though he didn’t really have to. Aziraphale could find no pleasure in eating fine food if Crowley was not there to share it with him. 

He couldn't focus on any book he tried to read and he had to force himself to stop gazing forlornly at the empty chair opposite him.

Because every time he did...His heart fractured a little bit more.

Aziraphale got to his feet and shook out his dusty wings irritably, sending a bookcase crashing to the floor. He cursed loudly and snapped his fingers to right the bookcase. Growled in irritation and stomped over to begin picking up the books.

He ignored their squeals of displeasure at his unusually rough treatment of them as he began shoving them forcefully back onto the shelves as if he hated each and every one of them. Aziraphale didn't much care that they were all in the wrong order.

He was in the middle of arguing with a first edition copy of ‘The complete works of Virgil’ about its placement on the shelf, but froze mid-sentence and gripped the book tightly as the familiar approaching purr of Crowley’s Bentley reached his ears.

Aziraphale remained motionless. Listening to the sound of the engine purring to silence. The door opened and closed and he gritted his teeth at the sound of the familiar swaggering gate moving closer and closer to his front door.

He kept his eyes trained firmly on the floor as the bell above the door tinkled and the scuffing of expensive shoes came to a stop.

Aziraphale looked up. Very. VERY. Slowly. 

Crowley was fidgeting from foot to foot like he was standing on consecrated ground and he had an uncharacteristically sheepish look on his face.

Neither of them spoke and the atmosphere in the room was rapidly building with a smothering. Almost flammable tension.

The Book in Aziraphale's hand squealed unhappily under his white knuckle grip and he was now biting the inside of his lip hard enough to draw blood. But he was utterly indifferent to the sharp pain or the taste of blood on his tongue.

A thick, red mist of rage began to descend over his eyes and his whole body tensed up as a cold wave of something dark, ancient and powerful stole through him.

 

‘AND JUST WHERE THE FUCK!!! HAVE YOU BEEN?’

 

Crowley gaped in utter shock at Aziraphale. He'd never heard him curse like this before... Had never seen him look more like an avenging Angel.

He was standing tall and proud, radiating waves of anger with his enormous disheveled white wings spread out behind him and looked truly Biblical in his oncoming wrath. His wings were trembling visibly with agitation and Crowley swallowed nervously under the weight of the furious glare that the Angel was directing at him.

‘Uhh, just popped out to Alpha Centauri for a bit…'

Crowley said lamely. His voice sounded small to him. And Aziraphale looked like he wanted to murder him in a million different ways.

All of them slow and incredibly unpleasant.

'...Lovely this time of year...Should have sent you a postca…’

He trailed off in alarm as the Angel's blazing eyes flashed dangerously. Aziraphale let out a dark, almost Demonic sounding growl. Took a step back and then launched the book he was holding directly at Crowley. He only just dodged the heavy tome with a yelp and heard one of the windows smash as the book sailed through it with a loud squeal.

Crowley gaped in disbelief as Aziraphale stalked towards him, forcing him to back hastily towards the panelled wall behind him. Crowley watched the rapidly approaching Angel in mute astonishment Feeling utterly shocked.

(And quite thoroughly petrified)

Aziraphale roughly grabbed hold of the collar of Crowley's jacket and slammed him into the wall so hard that his teeth rattled in his skull. The panelled wood splintered right up to the ceiling with a loud crash and all of the breath rushed out of his lungs.

Crowley's heart pounded in his chest as fragments of plaster rained down on their heads like snow. Aziraphale snatched his glasses off his face and threw them into a corner of the room where they shattered.

'DON'T YOU DARE JOKE, CROWLEY!!! DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE!!! HAVE YOU ANY IDEA HOW WORRIED I’VE BEEN? ANY IDEA AT ALL?'

'I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO THINK! I THOUGHT THAT YOU HAD BEEN CAPTURED, OR WORSE!'

'DO YOU EVEN CARE ABOUT HOW THAT MADE ME FEEL?’

Crowley opened his mouth to retort that he was quite capable of looking after himself if he didn’t bloody mind! But he quickly thought better of it as he shrank under the weight of the furious aura radiating from the Angel looming over him.

Crowley was a few inches taller than Aziraphale, he never stopped pointing it out...But right now...He felt very. VERY. Small.

Aziraphale looked like a shadow of his formerly neat and tidy self and his blazing blue eyes were boring into him with something akin to pure hatred.

All in all. Crowley felt like an utter bastard.

(And not in a good way)

‘Aziraphale…I…I didn't know…’

Aziraphale growled again and Crowley fell silent once more.

‘YOU DIDN’T KNOW WHAT!!! CROWLEY? THAT I CARE ABOUT YOU? CARE ABOUT WHETHER YOU LIVE OR DIE?'

'ARE YOU REALLY THAT MUCH OF AN IDIOT THAT AFTER SIX THOUSAND YEARS, YOU DON’T REALISE HOW MUCH YOU MEAN TO ME?'

Crowley swallowed thickly and tried to keep his composure steady. 

This plan of action backfired immediately as a lightbulb smashed close by him and he couldn't help but shiver. Because right this second...Crowley was fucking terrified. He heard it in his voice when he finally managed to reply and it honestly shocked him to his core. 

‘I…I honestly didn’t mean to get to you so worked up…’

Aziraphale cut Crowley off with a bark of scornful laughter and tightened his grip on his shoulders.

'WORKED UP?'

'WORKED UP?' 

'UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE FUCKING CENTURY DON’T YOU THINK?’

Crowley grimaced at the strength of Aziraphale's grip and suppressed a whimper as he felt his bones creaking in protest. His fight or flight reflexes were screaming at him to do something but he found himself rooted to the spot.

‘I’m…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you…really, Aziraphale...I just...I just needed some time to think…’

Aziraphale let out a harsh sigh and glowered at him.

'THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST TELL ME, CROWLEY?'

'HAVE I SERVED MY PURPOSE AS YOUR FRIEND? DO I HONESTLY MEAN SO LITTLE TO YOU THAT YOU CAN'T EVEN BE BOTHERED TO TELL ME WHEN YOU DECIDE TO DISAPPEAR FOR WEEKS ON END? AFTER ALL THE TROUBLE WE'VE HAD FROM ABOVE AND BELOW?'

'I DON'T SUPPOSE FOR ONE BLOODY SECOND! YOU ACKNOWLEDGED THE  POSSIBILITY THAT I MIGHT BE GOING OUT OF MY MIND WITH WORRY?' 

'YOU'RE A SHIT, CROWLEY!! AN UTTER. FUCKING. SHIT!

Crowley could have broken Aziraphale's hold on his collar quite easily under normal circumstances. But under these, he only stood there in shock. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so fucking terrible in all of his long life. 

(And being terrible was part of his job description)

Crowley could taste the charged static in the air and he flinched as a few more lightbulbs shattered around the room.

It was one thing for Aziraphale to raise his voice when he was a bit cross with him for spilling a drink on one of his books...But quite another to hear him shouting like this.

Crowley had finally crossed a line. Had finally made Aziraphale snap. And he felt that he thoroughly deserved every single second of the Angel's wrath. He bit his lip harder until blood flooded his mouth and his chest tightened painfully as Aziraphale's bottom lip trembled and his voice broke on the next sentence.

'Can you no longer bear to confide in me?'

Crowley let out a shaky breath and did the only thing he could think of to diffuse the situation. He pulled the Angel into a tight hug. A few intense seconds passed by before Aziraphale let out an anguished sounding sob that stabbed at Crowley's heart like a thousand cruel knives.

Aziraphale seemed to deflate under his touch, clinging onto his shoulders with shaking hands and gripping the expensive fabric of his coat hard enough to split a few dozen seams. Crowley's eyes burned with tears he could no longer shed and a devastating wave of remorse burned through him.

‘I’m sorry, Aziraphale...I...I don't know what else I can say...Seeing you like this...'

'It's not...'

'I didn’t...'

Crowley let out a long, weary sigh and gritted his teeth, before speaking in a soft, earnest voice.

'I'm so fucking sorry Angel...Can you ever forgive me?'

Aziraphale didn’t answer. He only pressed his face into Crowley's shoulder and clung to him as if he might disappear at any moment. Crowley gently stroked his fingers through the Angel's shivering, unkempt wings and felt him shudder slightly in his arms with a soft sigh and a sniff.

When Aziraphale finally spoke. His voice was hoarse and brittle from all the screaming and was slightly muffled against his shoulder. He sounded so timid and fragile compared to a few moments ago and whatever passed for Crowley's heart felt as if it had been trampled on by a pack of Hellhounds.

‘I thought that...that perhaps you’d forgotten about me...That maybe...Maybe you had grown bored of me…

'...You're such an amazing creature and...And I'm quite...Quite...Thoroughly ordinary.'

Crowley gaped in shock and ran a soothing hand through one of Aziraphale's trembling wings.

'You are many, many things, Angel...But ordinary isn't one of them...Don't you dare think that! Not even for a second.'

Aziraphale bit his lip and closed his eyes, still clutching onto Crowley as a drowning man would cling to a life raft.

Crowley pulled back slightly and brought a hand up to Aziraphale’s face. He swept his thumb almost unconsciously across his cheekbone and found that it was damp and streaked with tears.

Fuck...He had made the Angel cry…Oh. Wouldn’t Hastur be proud.

‘How the in the name of Satan's saggy left bollock could I forget about you. Angel? You’ve been following me around for 6000 years, haven't you?'

Crowley pulled his fingers free from Aziraphale's wings and raised his other hand so he was cradling his face gently and stroking his tear-stained cheekbones. 

'We’ve watched Cities burn and Empires topple and unless you somehow need reminding, we helped save the fucking world!’

Crowley's yellow gaze was tender and a little exasperated as he watched the corner of the Angel's mouth briefly quirk upwards.

‘Do you honestly believe that I could ever get bored of you, Aziraphale? Because I really really, doubt it! You baffle me. Infuriate me and fascinate me in equal bloody measures.'

Crowley wiped away another of the Angel's tears with his thumb and couldn't help but huff out a small laugh.

'You make me sit through operas and ballets. Galas and soirees and sometimes you’re an insufferable know-it-all...Oh Hell, you're always an insufferable know-it-all!'

'But you NEVER, EVER! Bore me!' 

Aziraphale huffed out a small, shaky laugh and pressed into Crowley's palms, He felt his skin flush with heat under his touch and his words. Revelling in the contact. Wanting to prolong it forever and ever.

‘Do…Do you really mean that, Crowley?’

Crowley huffed out a fond, exasperated laugh and rolled his eyes.

‘Of course, I bloody mean it, Angel...You’re right though. I am a shit.'

Crowley's grin faded and he felt overwhelmingly contrite.

'I'm so bloody sorry Aziraphale. I should have told you that I was going off-world to clear my head.'

I'm sure, that for you. Being that terrifying for a prolonged amount of time must be hard work.'

A small smile made its way onto Crowley's face and he eyed the Angel, feeling incredibly fond of him.

'Top swearing though. By the way. I'm impressed!'

Aziraphale turned pink and it only made Crowley smile wider at him.

'From now on. I'll let you know if I decide to leave for any reason so you don't go all Old Testament on me again.' 

'Do...Do you Promise?'

Aziraphale's voice was so soft and tentative that Crowley had to work very hard not to hug him even tighter. When Crowley spoke again, his voice was gentle, but his conviction rang true in his words. 

'Yes, Angel, I promise.'

Aziraphale cleared his throat and raised his head to give Crowley a somewhat watery smile.

'Was...Was I really...You know...Terrifying...Or. Or are you just teasing me?'

Crowley let out a slightly hysterical sounding laugh and grinned at Aziraphale.

'I never. EVER. Thought I'd be saying this about you. Angel...But for a moment there...I thought you were going to smite me.'

Aziraphale's slightly hoarse laughter joined Crowley's and It felt so cleansing to laugh again after so many days of lonely misery. He took in the sight of the Demon with a soft smile and swallowed hard before attempting to speak again.

'Well. That's something you needn't concern yourself with, my dear...I much prefer the world with you in it.'

Crowley smiled warmly at Aziraphale, feeling something stir inside him at his earnest expression. He realised just how close they were to each other. Standing mere inches apart and heat was beginning to build in their prolonged mutual gaze.

In this moment, Aziraphale was utterly breathtaking. His expression was so transfixed and open. Willingly laying bare his soul for Crowley in all its immaculate beauty. A few touseled blond curls had fallen over his forehead and he was nibbling fretfully on his plush lower lip. Crowley swallowed thickly but found that he couldn't look away.

Had his eyes always had flecks of gold in them?

Were they always so damn blue? 

Crowley cleared his throat and slowly removed his hand from Aziraphale's cheeks and placed them back on his shoulders.

'Oh yeah, almost forgot, Angel?' 

Aziraphale looked slightly dazed and gave a little start. He looked like his mind was a million light-years away and Crowley couldn't contain his grin as he took in the sight of the punch-drunk looking Angel.

'Please don't throw any more rare books at my head...I believe the one outside is rather cross with you.’

Aziraphale broke away from the hug with a shriek of alarm and sprinted out of the shop to retrieve his book. Crowley let out an almost unhinged laugh at the absurdity of the situation and felt his heart soar with joy.

Crowley straightened his clothes. Willed the plaster out of his hair and fixed the broken window and wall with a snap of his fingers. He chuckled softly at the sound of Aziraphale frantically apologising to his furiously indignant book. He would have to find a way to make this whole fiasco up to Aziraphale. Because he was still reeling from seeing the Angel in such a state.

 

'Angel?'

Crowley asked, as casually as he could. He was leaning against the newly repaired wall and grinning like an idiot.

'Yes, my dear?'

Asked Aziraphale vaguely. He was hugging his book to his chest and still apologising to it in a hushed, panicky voice.

'You do know that your wings are still out...'

Aziraphale spun around in horror to look over his shoulder, causing his wings to spring outwards and collide with something hard. Aziraphale let out a yelp and flapped them around in alarm. Papers flew in all directions under the force of his wings And then four fully-stocked bookshelves toppled to the floor. One after another like a pile of dominoes.

'BOLLOCKS!!!'

Crowley gaped at the mess around them and then at Aziraphale. He let out a snort and started giggling. He felt delirious amusement building up inside him and he was soon doubled over. Cackling like an old Witch and gripping the edge of a table for support.

Aziraphale looked around at the chaos he'd caused with such a look of exasperation on his face that it was almost two minutes before Crowley was able to stop laughing.

'You're bloody adorable, Angel. You do know that right?'

The words were out of Crowley's mouth before he could stop them. He felt his cheeks blazing hotter than Hellfire And would quite happily have thrown himself headfirst into an entire swimming pool full of holy water, had he been able.

The silence between them was absolute. Apart from the many angry squeals of the unhappy books that were strewn around everywhere. Aziraphale had turned an almost luminous shade of pink but he did not look displeased.

'Well...Um...That's very...Um...Than-'

'Shut up! you clumsy idiot! Honestly, Angel! You've only had those feathery appendages attached to your back for 6000 bloody yearsss!'

'Now, do you want my help putting these sodding booksss back or not? I know how fusssy you are about these thingsss...'

Aziraphale was hardly listening to Crowley's increasingly Reptilian-like rambling. A warm glow was spreading throughout his whole vessel in the wake of his cold. Biblical wrath.

Crowley had come back. Crowley had hugged him. And most wonderfully of all...Crowley thought that HE. Was adorable!!!

Aziraphale felt as if he were basking in the light of a fallen star.

And in a way. He was...Even if this particular star was incredibly embarrassed. Blushing furiously and pointedly avoiding his gaze.

 

 

 

Chapter Text

 

 ⧰Chapter Five: Where Is My Mind⧰

 

It had taken the better part of two hours before Aziraphale was finally satisfied that every single book was back in its rightful place. He fussily went about straightening every book, murmuring words of apology for disturbing them so rudely and making sure that they were all happy with their placement.

Crowley winced every few minutes as he remembered what he’d blurted out to Aziraphale. What the Hell was happening to him? He felt unsure of himself and Crowley NEVER felt unsure of himself.

He knew one thing for certain. He never EVER wanted to see Aziraphale so upset again. Something had shifted between them in a cataclysmic way since they both helped to save the world and the thought kept pointedly clearing its throat from a dark corner in the back of Crowley's mind.

Aziraphale seemed oblivious to his inner turmoil and was waffling on about one of his books with a cheery expression on his face.

Crowley wanted a drink. No. Scratch that. He wanted SEVERAL DRINKS.

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley and his words faltered. He looked tense, uncomfortable and brooding. This wasn't the perpetually sarcastic, wise-cracking Demon Aziraphale was used to. And it worried him tremendously.

‘Are you alright, my dear? You look a little peaky... Should I make some tea?’

Crowley stared moodily into space and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

‘Sod tea, got any whiskey?’

Aziraphale couldn't help but huff out a small laugh at the Demon's response.

‘Yes, quite. Uhm, I think I still have a particularly nice bottle of Macallan from 1946.'

Aziraphale turned to head to his storage room but froze as Crowley reached out and gripped his wrist. He looked expectantly at him and Aziraphale noted that the Demon was chewing on his lower lip and staring pointedly at the floor.

Aziraphale felt his heart skip a beat as Crowley looked up suddenly. It was only for a second but it was enough. The look in his eyes was almost frighteningly intense.

All of Crowley's bravado seemed to have been stripped away in that moment and the atmosphere was raw and charged.

‘Crowley, my dear...Are you quite alri…’

Crowley cut Aziraphale off by pulling him into another hug. He let out a surprised gasp but didn’t protest in the slightest. Crowley's voice was dull and muffled against his shoulder and it broke Aziraphale's heart to hear him sound so dejected and so full of contrition.

‘I really am sorry you know…For the way I acted...It was fucking heartless...Even for me.’

Aziraphale curled an arm around Crowley's back and rubbed his hand soothingly over the tense muscles beneath the fabric. He shuddered delicately as his long hair brushed against the back of his hand and pulled back slightly to smile wanly at the Demon. He reached out with his free hand and pressed it firmly into the centre of Crowley’s chest. He could feel a rapidly beating heart through the expensive fabric of his shirt and it woke something euphoric inside of him.

‘You have a heart, My dear...Despite your vehement protests to the contrary, or your fervent attempts to turn it black with your wicked nature...'

'I can feel it, Crowley...Fluttering like a trapped bird beneath my hand...And it brings me more joy than you could possibly imagine.’

Crowley gaped at Aziraphale in utter shock, his mouth opened and closed stupidly like a lobotomised Goldfish and it felt as if his vessel was about to burst into flames.

What was it that the humans called it? getting Butterflies in your stomach?

Well...That was a great, bloody behemoth of an understatement! It felt more like an entire family of Hornets had taken up residence in Crowley's stomach and had then decided to have a particularly nasty domestic.

The hairs on the back of Crowley's neck rose and he swallowed hard. His tongue suddenly decided that it didn’t want to co-operate anymore and instead of a snarky comeback, he simply stood motionless with his mouth open. Looking very much like Edvard Munch’s most famous painting.

When Crowley finally managed to speak again, his voice came out sounding a lot more unsteady than he would have liked.

‘Why are you always so...So, bloody good...All the time?’

Aziraphale scoffed lightly and smiled at Crowley, feeling a rush of overwhelming fondness for the Demon. His coppery hair was falling against his handsome face in disorganised tendrils. His cheeks were stained a rather fetching shade of pink and his golden eyes were burning with repressed emotion.

‘I’m an Angel, in case you’ve forgotten, it’s kind of in the job description.’

Crowley huffed out a weak laugh and leaned his head on the Angel's shoulder. His touch was gentle and halting, so different from the strength he'd used to slam him back into a wall with enough force to seriously injure him had he been human.

his mind was moving at lightspeed and his skin was prickling...Oh god...It was too much...He hadn't been held so gently by anyone in centuries.

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut against a flood of emotion and then gently pulled back from the Angel's hug. He plastered what he hoped was a convincing grin onto his face, and cleared his throat. 

‘Maybe leave off on the whiskey, for now, your wings look like they could do with sorting out.'

Crowley laughed despite the onslaught of emotions tumbling around inside his head.

'You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge and then another, slightly bloody larger hedge.’

Aziraphale snorted and attempted to look stern. 

‘Yes, Well. I was too busy worrying about you to bother with them. You know it’s a nightmare to get the tricky ones back into position...You wouldn’t mind would you?’

Crowley winced and then shook his head. He bit the inside of his lip and shuffled his feet nervously.

‘I needed some breathing space from Earth for a bit and really...I wouldn’t have been very good company...I was feeling tetchy...'

'And you know what I’m like when I’m tetchy.’

Aziraphale snorted and grinned at Crowley.

‘Ah, yes, I believe there was a rather regrettable incident in 1547. Didn’t you give the entire population of West Flanders the pox because somebody bumped into you?’

‘Not all of them!'

Said Crowley in an indignant tone of voice.

'Just the really annoying ones.’

Aziraphale started to laugh and Crowley couldn't help but join in.

‘It’s incredibly contagious, you idiot! You wiped out nearly half of the poor bastards!’

‘Oh yeah…Oops.’

 

They made their way into his sitting room, and Crowley watched as Aziraphale strolled over to the plush sheepskin carpet next to the fire and sat down cross-legged on it. Crowley dithered for a few moments. Nervously running a hand through his long hair and chewing on his lower lip.

Aziraphale spread out his wings and sighed at the pleasant feeling of the fire warming his feathers. He drew them in against his back and closed his eyes, listening to Crowley’s leather shoes scuffing on the floor. Aziraphale felt his stomach flip as Crowley approached and knelt down behind him.

‘Bloody Hell, Angel! Your primaries are a right state! Right. Don’t start flapping around again.'

'Bloody dangerous these things! One of these day's you'll have someone's eye out...’

Crowley started carding his fingers through the haphazard feathers and set about smoothing them into submission. Aziraphale let out a breathy sigh and Crowley swallowed hard and directed all his attention on the crooked feathers.

He felt Aziraphale's wings quivering slightly as he continued running his fingers through them. Aziraphale obligingly stretched them out to their full length again as Crowley moved on to his flight feathers. Methodically straightening them and smoothing them down.

Crowley pushed his fingers deeper into the shorter, fluffier down feathers at the base of his wings until he could feel the fine yet resilient bones quivering under his fingertips. He got slightly carried away with himself and unthinkingly grazed his nails over the delicate skin where feathers met flesh.

Crowley felt his pulse speed up and bit down on his lip hard enough to taste blood in his mouth as Aziraphale let out a loud and unrestrained moan.

The exquisite sound made Crowley's skin prickle and his pulse speed up. Who would have thought that the Angel could make such deliciously debauched noises?

Aziraphale blushed a fiery shade of crimson and was eternally grateful that he had his back to Crowley as he squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lower lip hard in embarrassment. He tried his best to stay quiet but failed quite miserably under the exquisite feeling of Crowley's skilled hands buried in his feathers.

The tension in the air was so thick that you probably could have cut it into portions and served it up on fancy china plates.

Crowley cleared his throat and went back to straightening feathers. Trying to be a little more clinical but failing appallingly. He had always liked Aziraphale's wings and his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own.

When the Angel let out a smaller breathier sounding moan a few minutes later. However. Crowley felt his mind becoming hazy and disorganised. And his body began to strongly react in ways that were highly inappropriate to the situation. Crowley gritted his teeth together. Willed his traitorous body back into its normal state and nearly jumped when Aziraphale finally broke the silence.

‘So...what did you get up to when you were away? I'm sure you...Mmmh. That's nice by the way. Crowley...Really...Really nice...'

'Uhmm...Where...Where was I...Oh, yes...Tell me about...Mmmh...About, Alpha Centauri.'

'I'm sure you caused as much chaos as...As possible...You...You are a Demon after all...Oh. my...That really does feel...Um...'

Crowley swallowed thickly and gently pulled his fingers free of Aziraphale's soft, gleaming feathers. Satisfied that they were now looking much better and because his hands were now shaking visibly.

He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip hard. He was extremely glad that the Angel had stayed firmly where he was and couldn't see his face. Because it was probably redder than the arse of Satan.

What Crowley wanted to say was:

'I was too busy thinking about you to cause any trouble, you oblivious idiot!!!'

'And if you must know. I really, REALLY, Am. Falling quite HIDEOUSLY in love with you!'

'I'm a Demon and you're an Angel! And that fact isn't even that high up on the list of things that are very. VERY. confusing about these unexpected turn of events!'

'Now please, PLEASE, stop making those noises, if you don't bloody mind!!! Because you're turning me on, you indecent bastard!'

But He couldn't say that. Because he would die of embarrassment...So he lied. Like the cowardly. Pathetic excuse for a Demon he was.

Crowley cleared his throat again and forced his voice to come out as casually as possible. 

‘Meditation mostly.’

Aziraphale snorted and stretched out his wings with a pleased sigh and a small shudder. He composed his expression and got to his feet again. turning to give Crowley an incredulous but amused smile.

‘Meditation?'

Crowley stood up and straightened out his clothes. Plastering what he hoped was a nonchalant grin onto his face.

'Yeah. Supposed to be good for you innit?'

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. Feeling and looking far from convinced.

'You’re telling me. That YOU. Meditated. FOR 26 DAYS?'

Crowley smiled a little manically and nodded.

'Yup...That's what I said.'

Aziraphale huffed out an amused laugh.

'I’ve known you for 6000 years, Crowley and not ONCE! Have I EVER! Seen you meditate!’

Crowley cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck distractedly.

‘Well then, I must have been doing it when you weren’t looking.’

Aziraphale laughed again and tried to look stern.

No, but seriously. What did you do?’

Crowley let out a dramatic sigh and rolled his eyes.

‘I just told you.’

‘You were not meditating! I refuse to believe you!’

‘I bloody well was! I sat with my legs crossed and everything!'

'Might have even said Om once or twice as well.'

'Got in touch with my inner sel…'

'Stop laughing you bastard! Honestly! Angel. You're ridiculous.'

'Now be a dear and go get the whiskey'.

Aziraphale snorted and rolled his eyes at Crowley. He shot him a fond, exasperated smile and headed out of the sitting room to fetch the whiskey.

Crowley held his smile in place until Aziraphale had left the room. As the Angel had turned the corner. A single white secondary feather tipped with gold came loose and fluttered to the ground. Crowley stared conflictedly at it for a few seconds and then he let out a shaky sigh at the sound of the door to the storeroom closing. Grateful for the brief moment of solitude.

He let out a sigh and stalked over to the feather. Picked it up and held it up to eye-level, raising his other hand to gently stroked his fingers over it. Crowley felt a delicious shudder slide through his body at the sensation of the warm, sleek ivory plume against his fingertips.

He walked over to the fireplace twirling the gold-tipped quill in his fingers for a few moments. Studying it with a fond smile on his face and admiring the way it glittered in the low light of the fire.

Crowley stared into the flames with an unreadable expression on his face, and after a few seconds of deliberation, he released his own wings from the ethereal plane. It had been a while since he had them out and he spread them wide with a pleased sigh as the warmth of the fire diffused over them.

Crowley glanced down at the feather in his hand and then slowly brought it up to his lips. Pressing a soft kiss into the fluffy surface and inhaling the pleasant smell he found there. He groaned softly as his cheeks began to heat up again.

His wings trembled softly and he growled under his breath. Cursing his misbehaving anatomy, the irritatingly beautiful feather...And most of all...The maddeningly adorable creature that it belonged to.

 

 

Chapter Text

 

⧰Chapter Six: Flashes Of Love

 

The smile on Aziraphale's face stretched out into a hysterical grin the moment he stepped into the storeroom and closed the door gently behind him. He returned his wings to the ethereal plane with a full-body shudder.

He thought wistfully of how good Crowley's fingers had felt buried in his feathers and then blushed furiously as he recalled how overcome he'd been And then he winced at the memory of the highly undignified and un-Angelic noises he had made. As the Demon buried his fingers deep into his wings and grazed his nails over the highly sensitive flesh.

Aziraphale sank back against the door and buried his scarlet face in his hands with a small, muffled groan of mortification.

Little did he know, a certain Demon was also going through a similar internal crisis of his own. The Demon in question was currently standing in front of his fireplace with his enormous inky black wings spread out behind him.

Clutching one of his feathers and scowling at it as if it had just insulted him.

Aziraphale felt like he was going to discorporate from the embarrassment and silently cursed the Demon and his wonderfully soft hands and teasing nails. He swallowed hard and felt his invisible wings shudder from his semiplumes all the way to his secondaries. He cringed in horror as he realised that his clothes were still crumpled and shabby looking.

Aziraphale willed himself into a white shirt. The blue bowtie and cufflinks he'd worn to the Savoy. A sandy gold waistcoat and dove grey trousers. He smoothed a shaky hand through his tousled hair and closed his eyes for a moment before he pulled himself together and bustled off to look for the bottle of whiskey.

He found it at the back of a cupboard buried under some rolls of parchment and several decades of dust. He pulled it free with slightly trembling hands, blew the dust off of it, and rummaged in his sideboard for some glasses. Aziraphale took a deep, calming breath and headed back out in the direction of the sitting room. Hoping very much that his face was no longer bright red and that Crowley couldn't hear the rapid beating of his joyful heart.

As he came through the door to the sitting room. He almost dropped everything he was holding at the sight spread out before him.

Crowley was standing in front of the fire with his beautiful black wings spread out behind him. They rustled softly and sent distorted shadows dancing across the ceiling.

He was dressed as sharply as ever and cut an incredibly striking figure in the low light. The deep ruby glow of the firelight glinted off of the Demon's sleek jet black feathers and Aziraphale stood transfixed for a few moments with a fluttering sensation in his stomach. He swallowed hard and wandered over to the side table to put down the glasses and bottle.

Crowley quickly vanished the feather he was holding, tried to compose his face and managed a weak smile as he watched Aziraphale will the whiskey into the glasses. He accepted his glass gratefully as the Angel handed him it. Aziraphale's fingers grazed over Crowley's and a crackling jolt of heat spread through his stomach as they clinked their glasses together.

'Slàinte mhaith!'

Said Crowley with a grin, before knocking back his much-needed drink with a contented sigh as it trickled down his throat and blazed hot in his belly.

'Slàinte mhaith!'

Parroted Aziraphale with a fond smile, he raised his glass to his lips and drank it back with a slight shudder at the warmth expanding inside him.

Crowley refilled their glasses with a snap of his fingers and they drank it nearly as quickly as the first. Neither of them was quite sure where to even start with a conversation and were just happy to have something to do.

By the fourth glass each. The bottle was completely empty.

Aziraphale took a long sip of his drink, gripped the glass with his trembling fingers and stared into the fire. He could feel the edges of Crowley's wings brushing against his shoulder and thought rather grimly that the glass in his hand would soon smash under his white knuckle grip.

The cloying tension between them was becoming harder and harder to hide under a thick mutual layer of bravado and awkwardness and Aziraphale felt like he would go mad soon enough if something didn't give.

Crowley was at war with himself as every fibre of his being screamed out at him to do something ANYTHING! To break the dizzying, oppressive tension hemming them in.

He summoned the courage to turn his head to look at the Angel and found that he was staring at him with a wistful expression on his face. His wide blue eyes and golden curls were shimmering in the firelight and he was blushing a faint pink.

Crowley clutched the empty glass tightly in his hand before turning to the table and setting it down with a slightly shaking hand. When he turned again, Aziraphale was staring down into his glass at the remnants of his whiskey with a tight expression on his face. He watched Aziraphale knock back the last of his drink and set it down. Crowley bit his lip in deliberation as The Angel began to babble nervously at him.

'Well...That was pleasant, shame though, it was my last bottle...Although I do think that I have a few cases of Château Pétrus left...I'll just go and have a look then, shall I?'

Before Aziraphale could say or do anything else, Crowley reached out and gripped his wrist almost tentatively for a few moments as if in deliberation. His pulse sky-rocketed as Crowley pulled him so close that their faces were practically inches apart.

Aziraphale drew in a startled breath and Crowley’s decadent scent swirled in his nose. It was so intoxicating that it made him feel dizzy with longing. Crowley was staring at him with a searching, almost desperate look on his handsome face. It was as if he was staring deep into his immortal soul and Aziraphale felt strangely vulnerable under the weight of his gaze.

Aziraphale stayed as still as a statue as Crowley's blazing yellow eyes studied his face intently. Watching with quickening breath as the Demon flicked out his tongue to wet his lips. It made heat slide through him and Aziraphale had to try very hard to stifle a moan. He felt Crowley's grip on his wrist tighten slightly and felt sure that the explosive tension building up in the room would soon discorporate them both.

‘Crowley my dear…Are you…Is everything…Oh!’

Aziraphale's question broke off with a gasp as Crowley let out a rough growl and then pressed him forcefully into the nearest wall.

Crowley caged him in with both hands on either side of his head and Aziraphale watched in stunned silence as the Demon tenderly cupped his face in his hands with something close to reverence in his gleaming yellow eyes.

His breath caught in his throat as the Demon sighed. Still holding his gaze and looking more beautiful than any creature ever created in the entire universe. Aziraphale could see lust and longing building up in his gaze. Could feel heat spreading through his vessel. And could smell the thick scent of arousal filling the air around them.

He felt on the verge of discorporating as the seconds ticked by. A century may have passed as they gazed remained locked. The tension was tangible and Aziraphale felt positively faint with desire. Static charges tainted the air around them and threatened to ignite them both.

Aziraphale felt his heart stutter to a halt for a few seconds and then explode in his chest as Crowley let out another frustrated sounding growl. Grabbed him roughly by his collar and kissed him forcefully on the lips.

It was like being bathed in Hellfire...Only it wasn't painful...It felt good...

 

Oh, Lord. It felt so good.

 

Before Aziraphale could even being to process this unexpected but incredibly pleasant turn of events. He was kissing the Demon back. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing but made up for it by kissing Crowley with all of the passion, adoration and strength that he possessed.

Crowley's lips were hot and slick against his own and he tasted of Whiskey and Stardust and Ozone. Decedent and thoroughly addictive.

Oh, my Go...WHAT IS HE DOING WITH HIS TONGUE? 

Aziraphale moaned softly at the thrilling sensations spreading through his body. Every single nerve and inch of skin cried out for more.

More.

MORE.

He gasped as the Demon let go of his collar and snaked his arms tightly around his waist with a rough sound in the back of his throat. Aziraphale followed the kiss as ardently and enthusiastically as he could and let out a shaky gasp as Crowley tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth.

Aziraphale let out a whimper at the sharp sting but it melted into a moan as Crowley slid his tongue soothingly over the bite. He felt his pulse soar and his head swim as he licked into Crowley’s mouth with reckless abandon.

Aziraphale buried his hands in the fluffy jet black feathers at the base of Crowley's wings and gently scraped his nails against the delicate flesh. Crowley must have known what he was doing to him earlier and he relished the Demon's shivering intake of breath and the utterly delicious sound he made.

Crowley was now far too turned on to be surprised at the Angel's sudden show of boldness. Kissing Aziraphale was like nothing Crowley had ever experienced before. He had been around for a very long time and he had kissed a lot of people.

But nothing in creation could prepare him for what the Angel did next.

Crowley let out a low, strained moan against Aziraphale's lips as the Angel scraped his nails over the sensitive flesh of his wings. His knees almost buckled and he clutched Aziraphale tighter still. Vicious heat spreading straight to his cock.

Nobody had ever touched his wings like this before.

Crowley had grazed his fingers through them many times before. But it felt so different when done by someone else.

Aziraphale's lips were so soft and warm against his own, he tasted of Whiskey and Sunshine. Purer than the first sun-drenched dew on the grass of Eden and Crowley didn't think he would ever get enough of the taste or the feeling of the pliant Angel pressed so tightly against him.

They kissed for what seemed like a thousand years. Wrapped up and absorbed in the feeling of one another.

Finally coming together at long last.

When they eventually pulled apart, they were both breathing hard. Aziraphale took in a shaky breath and blinked dazedly a few times, he loosened his grip in Crowley's wings and couldn’t help but beam stupidly at the gorgeous demon in front of him.

Crowley panted and smiled dreamily at the Angel. He felt freer and more alive than he ever would have believed possible. He let out a sigh and leaned his forehead against Aziraphale's with a rough chuckle.

‘Have you any bloody idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?’

Aziraphale brought his hands up to the Demon's shoulders with a wide, dazed smile and flaming cheeks. He felt happier and more elated than ever before as his whole vessel sang with pure. Undiluted joy.

'Prob...Probably as long as I have, I'd wager, My dear...Can We...Um...Would you mind if...Uhm....'

Crowley huffed out a soft laugh and raised his hands to cup Aziraphale's face again. He had never seen him look so euphoric or felt so utterly besotted with him. His long-neglected heart thundered in his chest as he leaned in to cut off his faltering plea with another kiss. Softer and more gentle than the ones before.

Whole Galaxies exploded behind Crowley's golden eyes as their lips met again and again.

The kiss quickly grew more passionate again. Crowley let out a growl and began walking the Angel in the direction of the sofa. Not stopping to break the kiss.

He pushed Aziraphale down and pressed him into the sofa cushions like a predator with cornered prey, capturing his lips in another scorching kiss. Aziraphale gave no protest and melted into the kiss with a moan. The air was filled with the sound of their quick, shuddering breaths and kisses. Mixing with the soft crackle of the fire.

Nothing else mattered in the world but the two of them. Pressed so tightly together and without any restraint, or coherent thoughts left in their brains.

Aziraphale had little control over himself now as Crowley kissed him hungrily and pressed himself against him. He could feel a violent tremor running through the Demon’s wings as he scraped his nails over them again just to hear him make more of those utterly sinful noises. 

Even though he didn’t need to breathe. He felt quite utterly breathless under the ruthless ministrations of Crowley’s lips and tongue. Aziraphale pulled away from the kiss with a shaky breath. He let his head fall back on the cushions and a strangled gasp left his lips as Crowley lunged in and started pressing a trail of open-mouthed kisses down the side of his neck.

Aziraphale let out a tight moan and writhed against the sofa. Burning up under the hot slide of the Demon's lips.

‘Cr…Crist Crowley…That's...Oh, God, that's...’

Crowley let out an almost anguished sounding moan against his skin and it sent ripples of blazing heat through his stomach at the sound.

When Crowley spoke, his voice was low, husky and strained and it awoke something frantic and primal inside of Aziraphale.

‘You shouldn’t blaspheme, Aziraphale...'

It could get you into a lot of trouble you know...'

But, oh...'

Oh, Angel...' 

Crowley broke off to gently nip and suck at Aziraphale's neck with a rough sound in the back of his throat. He let out a truly Demonic sounding chuckle when the Angel arched and moaned at his touch.

Aziraphale groaned at the velvety sound of Crowley's voice and a full body shiver ran through him as Crowley leaned in and began attacking his neck with his lips and teeth.

Crowley pulled back a hair's breadth to whisper the end of his sentence against the sensitive, bite-strewn column of his neck.

'...Witnessing those words come out of your soft, perfect mouth...Is the hottest thing I have ever fucking seen.’

Aziraphale whined and writhed at the feeling of Crowley’s gruff voice against his neck. He ached to touch and be touched. Intimately or otherwise.

Aziraphale might be an Angel but he wasn't a fool.

He had, after all. Been around for a very long time. And even though, he himself had never indulged...Aziraphale knew enough to know where this was going.

Instead of feeling nervous or unsure of himself as he usually did around the Demon. Aziraphale felt a strong. Unfamiliar, but much-appreciated surge of confidence steal through him. He pulled back with a shaky breath and cupped the Demon’s face in his hands. Unable to look away from his hypnotic golden eyes.

They were filled with so much emotion that Aziraphale briefly felt as if he was going to weep.

‘Crowley?’

‘Yes Aziraphale?’

‘Should…Should we?’

‘Yes, we should.’

‘Up…Upstairs?’

‘After you, Angel.’

Crowley let out a thoroughly lecherous chuckle as the Angel's face turned pink again and then swallowed hard as Aziraphale pulled free from his clutches with more of that ever-surprising strength.

As soon as the door to the bedroom closed behind them, Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s shoulders, roughly pushed him up against it and kissed him hard. It was electrifying. It made his vessel feel hot enough to combust. Crowley caged the Angel in with a growl against his lips and cupped the sides of his face with slightly trembling hands.

Aziraphale was quivering against him and kissing him back with slightly more finesse now. Crowley's breath hitched and he moaned as the Angel licked into his mouth and buried his hands in his wings again. His cock began to stiffen painfully in his already tight jeans and he moaned as it slid against Aziraphale’s clothed abdomen.

Crowley wrapped one arm around Aziraphale’s neck and buried his free hand in his blond curls. Moaning against his lips when he gasped into the kiss and tightened his fingers in his feathers.

Aziraphale’s rational mind was in tatters as Crowley pressed him against the door and kissed him so savagely yet so tenderly.

He could feel his cock pressing into the fabric of his waistcoat and it thrilled him beyond belief. Aziraphale’s skin felt hypersensitive beneath the fabric of his clothes and when Crowley buried a hand in his hair and pulled, It sent a scorching lick of Hellfire-like heat through his abdomen.

Aziraphale's breath hitched as Crowley slipped his tongue into his mouth and moaned softly against his lips. He could feel the Demon’s heart hammering through his shirt and Aziraphale felt a sudden urge to tear the fabric. To send buttons flying in all directions. Just to get at the gorgeous body beneath.

Crowley pulled his hand free of the Angel's hair and snapped his fingers. Replacing Aziraphale’s dusty double bed with his own opulent four-poster bed, Silk sheets and all.

Aziraphale pushed away from the door and all but shoved him in the direction of it and Crowley felt a wave of heat spread through him at the Angel's lack of restraint. He knew that after 6000 years of ever mounting tension, once they started...It would be very, very, hard for them to stop.

Crowley shifted the power dynamic and grabbed the Aziraphale's hand. He spun him around and pushed him down onto the bed. Before he crawled up the bed like a pather and straddled the Angel's hips.

He and took a moment to appreciate Aziraphale from his vantage point.

He looked absolutely stunning.

Crowley stared. Completely entranced. Taking in the beatific image of the Angel gazing lazily up at him with half-lidded blue eyes fogged over with lust.

Aziraphale stared up at the beautiful Demon. feeling decidedly hot under the collar and loving every second of it as a flush of molten heat spread through him as Crowley crawled towards him and straddled his hips with a growl.

Crowley looked simply divine as he loomed over him. His large black wings were spread wide on either side of him. His fiery hair hung coiled against his face and neck and his pale skin glinted in the low light of the lamp.

Aziraphale felt like he was going to explode, a devastating desire for release was spreading through him and he had to take a few deep. Calming breaths to steady himself. He reached up and clutched Crowley's hips before Aziraphale did something that he never. EVER Thought he would do…

 

Aziraphale made the effort.

 

Crowley gasped as he felt a sudden hardness pressing insistently into his abdomen. He let out a rough moan and felt heat spread through every fibre of his body at the sensation. He leaned down and captured Aziraphale's lips in a fiery kiss. Pouring all of his rampant desire into it. Delighting in the way Aziraphale squirmed against him in such a wanton fashion.

Crowley pulled back from the kiss slightly with a wicked grin and toyed with Aziraphale’s fetching bow-tie. Aziraphale looked absolutely dazed as he stared up at him with flushed cheeks and kiss bitten lips. His blood ran hot at the sight of the Angel spread out under him on his expensive sheets like an exquisite feast.

Crowley let out a dark chuckle against Aziraphale's soft, trembling lips. Fully intending to devour. Debauch and worship him in as many ways as possible. Until he was thoroughly and irreversibly claimed.

 

 

 

Chapter Text

⧰Chapter Seven: Wanton Requests⧰ 

 

Crowley had made quick work of Aziraphale's waistcoat and shirt and was eagerly exploring the soft, pliant flesh of his torso with his hungry mouth and wicked tongue.  He grazed his sharp teeth over Aziraphale's nipples until he was letting out broken little moans and breathy sighs into the night air with his hand buried tightly in his curls.

Crowley growled, gripped the waistband of Aziraphale’s trousers and tugged teasingly at them with a playful smirk. The Angel gasped and squirmed beneath him and Crowley broke away to look up at him with an uncharacteristically serious look on his flushed face.

‘Are you absolutely sure that this is what you want Angel? Because if you don’t stop me now...You’re going to end up utterly ravaged.’

Aziraphale shuddered at Crowley’s lewd tone and felt his head spin at the feeling of his hands on him. His tongue felt heavy and useless in his mouth and he swallowed thickly before attempting intelligent speech again. His voice came out much stronger than he was expected and he could hear the conviction in every word he uttered against the Demon’s lips.

‘Don’t you know, darling boy, how long I have yearned to see you like this?'

'...Can’t you feel my vessel crying out to become one with yours?'

'Oh, how I’ve wanted you…Please. Crowley…Touch me.’

Crowley let out a helpless moan at the sound of Aziraphale begging for his touch. He snapped his fingers and vanished the last shreds of the Angel's clothing. Crowley's eyes immediately settled on the thick, straining cock between Aziraphale's thighs. He felt his mouth water at the thought of having him in his hand and in his mouth.

Crowley slid down the bed, propped himself up with one arm and started pressing hot kisses down Aziraphale's abdomen. He flicked his tongue out over the silky-soft skin and enjoyed the way the Angel gasped and quivered so prettily at his touch.

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale from underneath dark lashes as he gripped the Angel's thick cock and then swooped down with a growl to lick a slow, wet stripe up the underside with his slick tongue. Tracing over the veins throbbing beneath the delicate skin. The effect this had on the Angel was immediate and instantly gratifying. Aziraphale's hips jerked up under his strong hands, his head dropped back on the pillow and a choked moan tumbled from his lips.

Crowley mouthed over the head of the Angel's cock with a husky chuckle and fluttered his wicked tongue out very deliberately over it. He tasted salt and musk and groaned softly. Crowley decided that he really fucking liked it.

He shuddered and thrust his hips against the mattress as Aziraphale buried a hand in his hair with a moan and pulled tightly. Crowley felt his cock twitch in his jeans and ached to release himself.

Aziraphale let out a broken sounding moan that tapered off into a whine. As Crowley’s slick, hot tongue danced over the tip of his cock. His eyes fluttered and rolled back in his head and Aziraphale couldn’t help the frenzied jerking of his hips.

‘C…Crowley…Mmmh. that’s…Ohhh. Fffuck...That feels so good...Pl-please....Ah! Please, stop teasing…'

'Ohhh, please, Crowley!'

 I can’t…I want…'

 

Crowley pulled back slightly, and let a teasing huff of air ghost over the Angel's cock before looking up at him with a pleased chuckle. The sound of Aziraphale' slurred curse made Crowley prickle all over as he drew out the fricative with a delicious moan.

‘You can’t what, Angel?'

Crowley slowly lapped up the underside of Aziraphale's cock and pulled back suddenly with a cruel chuckle.

'Can’t get enough of my mouth?'

Crowley's own cock throbbed painfully in the confines of his jeans and he moaned against the Angel's hard, silky flesh.

'Can’t believe how much you want this...How much I want you?'

Crowley delighted in the exquisite, desperate groans that came tumbling from the Angel's lips.

'What exactly is it that you want, Angel? Hmm? Would you like me to suck your cock? You know I will if you ask me very nicely.'

Crowley growled against Aziraphale's cock and pulled back again, chuckling at the sound of his breathy moan of protest.

Aziraphale whined in frustration as Crowley pulled back and had to bite his lip hard as the Demon blew a hot gust of air over the head of his cock and spoke such filthy words against his flesh. He flushed scarlet at his lewd request and then hissed as Crowley puffed out another stream of air against his cock.

Please, Crowley…I…I feel like I’m going to break apart and I can’t…Oh, God! I can’t…’

Crowley hummed softly and Aziraphale shivered and whimpered under his touch.

‘Shhhhh, you can, Angel. I know you can…Ask me. Aziraphale...Ask me to suck your cock...'

Aziraphale let out a frustrated growl and clenched the silk sheets in his free hand until his knuckles stood out stark and white against the inky sheets. He battled with himself for several, anguished moments before he let out a noise that sounded close to a sob and felt his self-control finally cave in.

‘I…I want you to…To...Oh god…Take your clothes and then...'

'Then...I want you to suck my cock...'

Aziraphale let out an anguished little whine and writhed beneath his hands.

'Please, Crowley…’

 

Crowley could have come right then and there.

 

‘Well now…Was that really so difficult?’

Crowley let out a dark chuckle. Snapped his fingers and groaned as his bare skin came into full contact with The Angel's. His neglected cock jerked between his stomach and the silk sheets. His flesh broke out in goosebumps at finally being pressed so tightly against Aziraphale and he was quickly losing all rational thought as the Angel's fat cock bobbed so close to his willing and able mouth.

Before Aziraphale could even attempt a reply. His train of thought crashed headlong into a brick wall, as Crowley bent forward with a soft growl and wrapped his lips around the head of his cock.

He slowly took him into his mouth inch by inch. In one slick. Unbearably hot slide and Aziraphale's head fell against the pillows, his eyes rolled back and then fluttered closed as his hips bucked and twitched up into the Demon's throat of their own accord.

A rough, drawn-out groan punched it's way out of the Angel's mouth and the light-bulb in the solitary lamp exploded as Crowley swallowed around him with a growl. Crowley didn't need a light source to admire the rigid. Almost pained look of ecstasy etched onto Aziraphale's face. He hummed contentedly and adored the way Aziraphale let out a whimper that morphed into a rough moan as Crowley began ruthlessly bobbing his head in time to the Angel's shuddering hips.

A few minutes later, Aziraphale's breathing was little more than tattered gasps mixed with rough moans. Crowley growled around his cock and buried his noise in the thatch of blond curls at his groin. Swallowing mercilessly and robbing him of all rational thought.

The Angel's grip in Crowley's hair was savage and perfect and he doubled his efforts to achieve his ultimate goal...To turn Aziraphale into a moaning. Shivering, wreck.

Crowley tasted a rush of precome against his tongue and focused all his attention on the head of Aziraphale's cock. Sucking hard and flickering the tip of his tongue over the weeping slit until The Angel cried out and repeated his name over and over again like a mantra. 

‘Crowley! Don’t stop…Ohhh God, please don't stop…Your…Your mouth…Ohh…God, Your mouth...'

It...It feels so good around me...Mmmmh! Crowley...That’s so…So…Oh god...Crowley…Crowley! I think I’m going to…Going to…Oh FUCK!!! Crowley...CROWLEY!!!'

Crowley felt lust descend over his eyes as Aziraphale's breathing hitched and stuttered as he bucked desperately into his mouth and came hot and heavy down his throat with a garbled scream of his name on his parted lips.

Aziraphale was utterly incapable of function at all for over ten minutes and Crowley felt very. VERY. Pleased with himself indeed. He pressed soft kisses into Aziraphale's stomach and murmured words of praise and affection into his hot skin until he ceased trembling and shuddering in the afterglow of his first ever orgasm.

Crowley's own insistent hardness was mere background noise as he pressed himself against the Angel's quivering body.

He snapped his fingers and the lightbulb reformed. It cast a faint flow upon Aziraphale's face. He looked awed and positively sated.  The Angel's voice was rough and wavered slightly as he spoke.

‘You’re amazing, Crowley…Do you know that? Absolutely amazing…'

'Will…Will you hold me? Just...Just for a little while...Please?’

Crowley’s heart soared with triumphant joy as he gently rolled them so the Angel was sprawled across his bare chest with his cheek pressed against the firm flesh. He let out a soft chuckle, wrapped a protective arm around him and bent to tenderly kiss the Angel's forehead.

‘For as long as you like Aziraphale…We have time…We have all the time in the world.'

 

‘Crowley?’

 

‘Yes Angel?’

 

‘I…I love you, my dear…More…More than I could ever put into words.’

Crowley’s breath hitched in his throat and he felt his eyes burn with the tears he could no longer shed. He gently trailed the fingers of one hand over Aziraphale's face and gave him a brittle. Awed smile. His bottom lip quivered and he found himself quite unable to reply with anything even approaching a steady voice.

‘I love you too Aziraphale…God…I…I think that I always have...And...And I know that I always will…’

Aziraphale let out a hitching sob and leaned in to kiss him hard. Crowley's stomach flipped and Hellfire filled his veins as the Angel pulled himself up and pushed him flat on the large bed.

Crowley gasped as Aziraphale straddled his naked body and gripped his soft hips with a groan. His head tipped back on the pillows at the delicious sensation of the heat of the Angel's soft skin against his own and the delicious. slide of friction between them.

Crowley felt himself twitch painfully at the thrilling sensation of Aziraphale's cock pressing against his own. He let a moan and a sharp hiss against the Angel's lips. Scraping his nails down Aziraphale’s back over the place where his wings would be and swallowing his rough moans.

Crowley bucked his hips sharply and let out a filthy moan. Chasing every single slide of dizzying friction with wanton, unabashed lust.

 

 

 

Chapter Text

 

 ⧰Chapter Eight: La Petite Mort⧰

 

Crowley bit his bottom lip and moaned as Aziraphale thrust and undulated against him. His sensitised skin was flooded with a tingling-yet fiery sensation. It made his hands tighten on the Angel's hips, mindful not to bruise the soft, delicate flesh beneath his fingers.

His wings were becoming slightly hazardous and he thought he might come right now if Aziraphale touched them again, so he returned them to the ethereal plane with a shudder

Crowley leaned forward, unimpeded by his wings and buried his face in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. Biting down gently and hissing against the Angel's skin as he shivered and moaned.

‘I want…Oh, God! I want to touch you...Please, Crowley.’

Crowley closed his eyes and moaned at the sound of Aziraphale’s wanton begging. He pulled back from his neck and studied the Angel's flushed face, wide eyes and kiss-bitten lips. He looked absolutely radiant and Crowley momentarily forgot how to form words.

‘Then touch me, Aziraphale…I…I…Please, Angel.’

Crowley eyes fluttered shut and he moaned as Aziraphale leaned down to press his soft lips into the side of his neck. A strangled hiss burst out of his mouth and his head fell back onto the pillows. As Aziraphale swallowed thickly and reached down to grip his cock in a soft, plump hand.

‘Fuck, Angel…’

Crowley’s breath hitched and his hips jerked up as Aziraphale gripped him tighter and slowly glided his hand down, exposing the crown of his cock for a few seconds, before he stroked upwards again and repeated the action as well as he could.

Aziraphale felt his pulse racing as Crowley let out a choked gasp, followed by a soft, desperate sound in the back of his throat. He felt an unfamiliar yet thrilling sense of power rush through him. He tightened his grip on the Demon's cock and ended each upward stroke with a flick of his wrist. Marvelling at the beautiful, strained noises Crowley made as he did so.

Aziraphale released his grip on Crowley’s cock and his own hand fell away to tangle in the silk sheets with a frustrated whimper. He stared pleadingly, beseechingly up at the Angel and felt his breath lodge in his throat as he slid off his lap and lay down on his stomach beside him.

Crowley felt utterly stripped bare under his vibrant blue gaze and squirmed under the weight of his frank appraisal of his body.

‘Oh, Crowley...You really are the most breathtaking thing I have ever seen…I…May...May I taste you?’

All of the breath rushed out of Crowley’s lungs like he’d been sucker-punched. The sound that worked its way out of his throat was a dark, rough thing that dripped like honey and permeated the air with a building static charge.

‘Yes…Yes you may…Oh, please, Angel…I…I want your mouth on me…’

Aziraphale gazed up at the lithe, writhing Demon with unrestrained hunger in his blazing azure eyes. He leaned forward to smooth his fingers over his heaving chest and quivering abdomen. He rather forgot himself as he pressed soft kisses and soft nips into Crowley’s skin with a moan of longing.

Aziraphale smiled against the Demon's flesh. It was indescribably thrilling to see Crowley reduced to such a state of wanton depravity and made Aziraphale even more eager to prolong it for as long as possible. He took in a deep, unnecessary breath as he took in the sight of Crowley's cock this close. So flushed and straining against his quivering abdomen.

Aziraphale felt a fleeting rush of unbearable shyness and for a second. he couldn’t look Crowley in the eye. He swallowed thickly and started when he felt Crowley's hand on his cheek.


Look at me, Aziraphale…Please Angel.’

Crowley’s voice was rough with desire but there was a touch of warmth in his tone. Aziraphale bit his bottom lip and glanced up at the Demon with bated breath.

‘I only want this if you do, Angel. I may be a Demon but I’m very big on consent.'

'I’ve waited centuries to have this with you and I can wait a few more if I have to.’

Aziraphale felt his eyes burn with astounded tears. Crowley. A Demon. Was willing to forgo and withhold touch if he asked.

He let out a small, hitching sob and turned his face to kiss Crowley’s palm. He shivered at the sound of the Demon's gasp and pulled back from his hand. Leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to his inner thigh before hesitantly trailing his tongue over his iliac crest.

Crowley let out a sharp gasp and felt his hips buck and twitch at the feeling of Aziraphale’s tongue so close to his cock. All he could focus on was the sight of Aziraphale gripping his cock in a silky soft hand and leaning down to lap tentatively at the underside.

Crowley’s mouth fell open with a shaky gasp as his skin burned under the hot slide of the Angel’s mouth. He hissed and panted clenching his teeth at the feeling of Aziraphale's curious tongue exploring the length of his cock.

‘Oh my God Angel…That’s…… Fffuck,’

Crowley broke off with a sharp moan as Aziraphale enveloped him in a slick inferno. Surrounding him on all sides and completely short-circuiting his brain as plump, slick lips glided up and down his cock. His mouth fell open as the Angel took in more of him and hummed contentedly around him. Crowley’s hips quivered under the Angel’s firm grip and he buried a shaking hand in Aziraphale’s curls.

Crowley let out a growl and gritted his teeth as Aziraphale moaned again. Louder this time and the vibrations around him made his hips jerk up, desperate to feel more of the Angel’s mouth on his cock.

‘Ohh my god! That feels so fucking good Angel! Aahh! You’ll…You’ll be the death of me!’

Aziraphale pulled back with a husky chuckle and gazed up at the debauched Demon with an uncharacteristically deviant look on his face.

‘I certainly hope not Darling…Because I’m actually rather enjoying myself.’

Crowley let out a shaky, unhinged laugh that tailed off into a rough moan as Aziraphale swooped down and flickered his tongue over the tip of his cock. His head tipped back and he chuckled breathlessly.

‘I always knew you were a closet sadist!’

A few minutes later. Crowley had lost the ability to form coherent sentences and was utterly helpless under Aziraphale’s hot, greedy mouth. He arched his back up of the mattress and stared pleadingly into the Angel’s eyes.

‘Fuck! Oh, fuck! Aziraphale…You...You have to stop or I’m…Mmmh...I…I want…Ah! fuck! Mmmh. Come here, Angel.’

Crowley groaned as Aziraphale pulled back from his cock with a shaky breath and a whisper of his name against his skin. He watched with heavy-lidded Golden eyes as the Angel propped himself up on shaky arms and crawled up his naked body to straddle him.

Crowley let out a long breath as he revelled in the weight of Aziraphale on top of him. His lip curled in a snarl as Aziraphale gripped him tightly and started stroking him again. His cock was still slick with the Angel's saliva and that alone was enough to make Crowley want to come. He focused all his demonic energy into staving off his orgasm.

Crowley let out a gruff moan and reached down to grip both of their cocks in a firm, silky grip. Aziraphale’s head tipped back with a sharp cry and his hips stuttered forwards. Bucking impatiently into his hand and making him growl hoarsely as his cock twitched and pulsed as it glided against the Angel’s.

Aziraphale’s cock was perfect. Thick and flushed at the tip, precome beaded at the slit and Crowley wanted him in his mouth all over again. Crowley tightened his grip on their cocks and summoned more lube into his hand, letting out a husky chuckle when Aziraphale whimpered half-formed pleas and moans.

‘Doesn’t that feel good, Aziraphale? Can you feel yourself unravelling against me?’

Aziraphale let out a gruff moan and felt his eyes fluttering and his vison failed for a few moments. his head spinning with dizzying bliss.

‘Mmmh. Yes…Yes, it feels so good Crowley...Is…Mmmh…Is it good for you too?’

Crowley huffed out a rough laugh and lunged forward to kiss Aziraphale hard. He swallowed the Angel’s moans and licked hungrily into his soft mouth. He kissed him fiercely, moaning into his mouth as they writhed against each other.

‘It…It feels fucking amazing, Angel…You're fucking amazing...Ah!’

Crowley broke off as Aziraphale reached out a shaky hand to grip the base of their cocks in his soft, elegant hand.

‘Mmmh, yeah. That’s it, tighter…Tighter…Oh…Ohhh…Fffuck!’

‘C-Crowley, Oh, Crowley…You’re absolutely fucking magnificent!' Mmmh! Oh, God! I…I don’t think I can…Ah! Hold on much longer…It feels good…Ohhh, Fuck! It feels so good!’

Crowley’s frazzled brain blew apart and he bared his sharp teeth with a rough growl as tension coiled and swirled in his lower abdomen like a hurricane. He lunged forward to bury his face in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck and press messy, passionate kisses into his damp skin with a rumbling moan of his name.

‘Come for me Angel…P-please…Oh fuck…Aziraphale…Azir-aphale…I’m close…Oh God! I’m so fucking close…’

Crowley let out a sharp gasp of surprise as the Angel tangled a hand in his wild hair and gripped it tightly. Aziraphale jerked his head back with a rough growl and kissed him hard. The sweet sting of delicious pain was the final push that Crowley needed.

His mouth dropped open and he let out a long, rumbling moan, punctuated by sharp grunts as he spilled against his fist and the Angel’s throbbing cock. Aziraphale’s hand tightened further in his hair and Crowley growled through clenched teeth as he felt a second and more violent orgasm rip through his body.

Aziraphale's breathing was jagged and desperate and his back arched as he let out a series of shaky, bitten off cries, followed by a low, strained moan as he came against Crowley’s still jerking cock.

Crowley let out a rough sob and sank heavily into the plush mattress. He used the last of his strength to clean them up and then manoeuvred the panting, boneless Angel to lie against his heaving chest. He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned softly into Aziraphale’s sweaty curls, sighing as Aziraphale let out a soft, sated sound and snuggled into his embrace with a whisper of his name against his skin.

‘I love you, Angel.’

‘I…I love you too, my dear. You’re stunning….You know? Simply stunning…’

Crowley huffed out a weak laugh and snaked an arm around Aziraphale’s waist, pulling him tighter to his chest and feeling utterly weightless. As if he was in a freefall dive.

Seconds of sated silence stretched out into minutes and then, perhaps hours. Crowley didn’t know or care how much time had passed.

He could stay like this forever and be completely content.

Crowley started slightly at the sound of a soft snore.
He peered down at The Angel in his arms in wonder. He let out a shaky, awed breath and raised himself off the bed slightly to press a soft, lingering kiss against the sleeping Angel’s forehead.

Crowley settled back into the mattress with a soft sigh and closed his heavy yellow eyes. Drifting slowly towards the realm of unconsciousness without protest. 

 

 

Crowley woke with a snort and a small groan. His brain felt foggy and disorientated and it took a few moments before he could bear to open his eyes.

Doing so, was a definite mistake.

He hissed softly as sunlight stabbed him hard in both eyes and lifted a limp hand to wave at the red silk curtains of the four-poster bed. He drew them shut and sighed gratefully, pleased to be back in darkness.

Crowley raised his head slightly off the pillows and glanced blearily down at the slumbering Angel snoring softly and drooling slightly on his chest. He fought a strong urge to laugh but suppressed it, eager to prolong the experience of seeing Aziraphale sprawled across him. Looking so bloody adorable that it made his heart swell with affection.

Crowley raised his arm again to glance at his watch. It was almost midday and he had a feeling that Aziraphale would be absolutely ravenous when he awoke.

He wrapped his arm tighter around the Angel’s waist and let out a soft contented sigh.
Crowley hadn’t forgotten his pledge to make it up to Aziraphale after he had gone AWOL and reduced the Angel to a nervous wreck.

Crowley felt a rush of guilt steal through him and racked his brains for a way to bring a smile to the Angel’s face. He knew that Aziraphale loved food, probably more than any being he had ever encountered and he wanted to take the Angel somewhere he would love and appreciate.

The thought of doing something nice should have irked him and made his skin crawl but it didn’t.

Because it was for Aziraphale. Crowley actually felt happy at the idea of the Angel’s face lighting up in delight.

A thought crept into Crowley’s mind and refused to go away.

He really likes Sushi, you idiot. Like. REALLY likes it. Pull yourself together and put some thought into this!

Crowley closed his eyes again and formulated a plan of action. Their best bet for good Sushi was obviously Japan, but that was vague and unhelpful at best. Crowley summoned his phone into his free hand.

He squinted at the bright little screen and suppressed a small shudder. He opened the browser and found that the page that loaded had all of the information he needed. Simply because he wanted it to.

Hmmm, Tokyo…Haven’t been there in bloody ages. Ohh, Ginza! Crowley vaguely remembered going there to wreak havoc on the stock exchange. Right. He needed to go to a famous Sushi house and talk to a bloke named Jiro. Or, failing that. His son Yoshikazu.

Crowley vanished his phone and wrapped both his arms around Aziraphale’s waist, wanting to prolong this perfectly serene moment for just a little bit longer.

He felt utterly at peace with his confession of love to the Angel and he felt lighter and blissfully untroubled.

Crowley let out a sigh and thought about how best to extract himself from the clutches of the sleeping Angel. Aziraphale was pressed so tightly against him that escape was futile. There was only one thing he could do.

He would have to dematerialize.

Crowley would have to briefly stop time the moment before he did so in order to rearrange the pillows and covers around the Angel so that he didn’t fall face-first into the mattress.


That would DEFINITELY be a bad start to their relationship.

Crowley let out a sigh, gave Aziraphale one more affectionate squeeze and then let go of him. Before he casually stopped time with a snap of his fingers. He then dismantled himself into millions of pieces and rematerialized in the middle of the room. Fully formed and stark bollock naked.

Crowley couldn’t help but let out a soft snort at the comical image of the nude, drooling Angel suspended several inches off the mattress.

He snapped his fingers again and the pillows slid neatly under Aziraphale’s head, the plush, Egyptian cotton duvet draped itself over him and he gently floated back down onto the bed. Crowley held his breath as he Aziraphale let out an incoherent moan, but exhaled in relief as the Angel snuggled deeper into the pillows and let out another soft snore.

Crowley let out a soft chuckle and willed himself into a set of smart clothes; He was now dressed in a tailored black suit jacket, a dark red silk shirt and a black waistcoat. Fitted black trousers. Silk Boxers. Socks and a pair of black Italian loafers.

Crowley pulled out his phone to take a photo of Aziraphale. He looked far too adorable for him to resist.

He willed a sheet of fine calligraphy paper and a fountain pen into his hands and leaned against the closed door to write Aziraphale a note so that he didn’t have a panic attack when he woke up to an empty bed.

 

Good afternoon Angel, before you go and get yourself into a  right Royal flap, I just want to let you know that I’ve popped out to organize us a spot of lunch.

I didn’t want to wake you up because I’ve never seen you sleep before and quite frankly. It’s bloody adorable.

I'll give you a call when I have everything sorted. I would say 'Wear something smart'. But it's you and you don't need the encouragement.

Love, affection and all of that other gooey nonsense you like.

 

C.

 

P.S. Wear that bowtie. YOU KNOW THE ONE.

XXXXXX

 

Crowley chuckled at the sight of the small row of X's he had scribbled at the bottom of the page and wondered what Aziraphale would make of his request.

He waited a moment for the ink to dry and then made a complicated gesture over the page. The piece of paper hovered in mid-air against the door and then formed itself into a delicate origami Swan. 

It shook out its fragile wings and flew around the room for a few moments before gliding to a stop on the bedside table. Crowley couldn't resist conjuring a white, gold-edged teacup filled with Aziraphale's favourite blend of Earl grey next to the paper Swan.

It wouldn't go cold and would remain the perfect temperature until Aziraphale had drunk it.

Almost as an afterthought, Crowley summoned a delicate sprig of Sakura cherry blossom to nestle on the china saucer.

He took one last look at Aziraphale's sleeping form. scattered himself to the cosmic wind and headed in the direction of Tokyo.

 

Crowley touched down outside Sukiyabashi Jiro a few moments later and straightened out his clothes. The sushi house was outwardly, very minimalist and understated for its illustrious reputation. With only short dark green flags framing the top of a simple wood and glass door.

It was also eerily quiet for such a famous haunt of the rich because Crowley had made sure that the ten guests scheduled to dine today had all come down with sudden and violent food poisoning.

He had to do something evil to counteract all of the saccharine nonsense.

He was also 100% certain that a new reservation for two would show up on the books. 

It was easy enough to buy out the ten seats for the day. Crowley was rich, quite hideously so. He had lots of stocks and shares, stretching back thousands of years and never really bothered to keep track of them.

Come to think of it. He didn't usually pay for things. But Crowley doubted that Aziraphale would approve of the old dine and dash. He was supposed to be making up for being a dick and he needed to do this the old fashioned way.

Crowley smiled wickedly to himself as he parted the flags with his left hand to push open the door with his right; he composed his face into a charming smile and sauntered into the sushi house with his Amex black card at the ready.

The interior of the sushi house was done out in a very traditional style, with light wood and minimalist artwork. The room was also permeated with the rich smell of the ocean and the scents of fresh ginger and cooking rice.

Crowley knew right then and there that he would probably have to drag Aziraphale out of there at the end of their…Meal? Makeup dinner? No...This had all the hallmarks of a date.

Strangely enough, this fact seemed to trouble Crowley very little. Everything seemed to have fallen into place. After 6000 years of dancing around their ever-deepening bond to one another, they had finally collided it a cataclysmic explosion of passion and lust.

This last thought made Crowley feel distinctly hot around the collar as he strolled over to the front desk and rung the small bell on the counter.

A slightly harassed looking middle-aged Japanese man came hurrying out of the kitchen and did a double-take when he saw Crowley. He frowned for a fraction of a second and then slipped a polite smile onto his face. He dipped his head in a respectful bow and when he spoke, his voice was clear and only slightly accented.

‘Good evening sir. Welcome to Sukiyabashi Jiro! My name is Yoshikazu, How may I help?’

Crowley dipped his body into a swift bow and smiled winningly at the man. It had been a long time since he’d been to Japan and he was incredibly relieved that Yoshikazu spoke English because his Japanese was woefully rusty.

Hi there! Lovely place you’ve got here by the way, very authentic. Yes, there should be a reservation for two under the name of Anthony J Crowley.’

Yoshikazu opened a large book and scanned it for the name, he frowned slightly. Crowley twitched a finger and Yoshikazu’s frown disappeared. Crowley worked hard to keep a smirk off his face.

'Ah, yes, everything appears to be in order, but I’m afraid you’re an hour early, you may wait for your dining companion here if you wish, ’

Crowley’s stomach did a flip at the word ‘Companion.’ And for a second, he forgot to answer. He covered up his momentary lapse with a wide smile.

‘Oh. Um, No, thank you. I have a few things to do beforehand, my uhh, companion and I will be back in an hour.’

Yoshikazu nodded with a smile that hardened slightly around the edges.

‘Don’t be late!’

Crowley was slightly taken aback but only smiled wider.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’

Crowley dipped into another graceful bow, turned and exited the Sushi house with a devious grin on his face. He strolled down to the exit of the building, stepped out onto the street and hailed a passing cab.

He would call Aziraphale and have them meet somewhere discreet. Crowley chuckled darkly to himself and grinned as the driver of the cab shot him a worried look.

He Had Just enough time to check out the highly fashionable designer clothing boutiques for something a little more his style than the boring ensemble he'd constructed for the sake of a good impression. Crowley grinned wickedly as he formulated a plan to buy something expensive and outrageously sexy to significantly raise Aziraphale's temperature.

 

 

Chapter Text

 

 

 

⧰Chapter Nine: Amorous Gestures⧰

 

 

Aziraphale woke with a start and then a sleepy groan; he blearily opened his eyes and found himself alone in Crowley’s extravagant four-poster bed. He sat up a little groggily and felt his head spin. He honestly couldn’t recall the last time he had slept.

Aziraphale pulled back the covers and looked down at his nude form, flushing an almost neon pink. He snapped his fingers and was once again, fully dressed in his usual attire. He opened the silk curtains with a wince as streaming sunlight assaulted his retinas.

His eyes fell upon a steaming cup of tea on the bedside table and felt his heart jump in his chest as he caught sight of the sprig of cherry blossom and the delicate origami swan. Aziraphale sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to pick up the paper Swan. He gave a little start as it spread out its delicate wings and then lowered them again before becoming once more inanimate.

Aziraphale let out a delighted little laugh and picked up the paper crane, cradling it in his hands like a sacred talisman. He held it up to eye level, saw Crowley's unmistakable writing and cottoned on a moment later. He let out a shaky breath and delicately began unfolding the piece of paper with slightly trembling hands.

Aziraphale’s smile gradually widened as he read Crowley’s note. He felt incredibly peckish and wondered where they would be dining today. Perhaps the Ritz or maybe even the Savoy. He really had enjoyed their late-night meal there and tried not to dwell on what came after.

He felt his cheeks flush as he read the last line and saw the accompanying row of hastily scribbled X’s. Aziraphale felt a decidedly un-Angelic grin spread over his face and felt rather giddy as he thought back to the previous night.

It had been terrifying, eye-opening and absolutely perfect.

Aziraphale felt his skin prickle at the memory of Crowley’s rough voice and soft lips and had to take a very deep breath to calm himself down. He picked up the delicate pink sprig of cherry blossom and brought it up to his nose to inhale the delicate smell. He miracled a small glass vase onto the bedside table and placed the cherry blossom in it with a soft smile.

Aziraphale stood up, picked up the teacup and took a long sip of the Earl Grey. It was just the right temperature and his heart swelled in his chest. He was incredibly touched by Crowley’s thoughtfulness and had to clear his throat a few times as he headed downstairs to his bookshop. He would most likely have to further apologize to ‘The Complete Works of Virgil.’ Who was probably still furious at him for throwing it through a window.

That was the problem with first edition books. They were haughty and incredibly fussy about their placement on the shelves. They were also very easily offended and would only sit with other first edition books. They certainly had no qualms about giving Aziraphale an earful if they were unhappy with their location.

Aziraphale descended down the creaky, dust-laden staircase, still clutching his teacup, he took in a deep breath and let it out in a happy sigh at the amalgamation of familiar, comforting scents. He padded into his sitting room and caught sight of himself in the antique Victorian mirror above the mantelpiece.

Aziraphale scrutinized his appearance and then waved a hand over himself; swapping out his tan coloured coat for a slate grey suit jacket, a crisp white shirt with onyx cufflinks and the blue and gold damask bowtie that Crowley had requested.

He finished off his daring new look with charcoal dress pants and a pair of polished black Oxfords.
He gaped at himself slightly in the reflection of the mirror as he turned slightly to admire the cut of the jacket and then ran his hand fondly over the bowtie.

Crowley was right. It really did bring out his eyes.
Aziraphale let out an amused huff of laughter at the absurdity of it. An Angel taking fashion advice from a Demon! It was highly unconventional, to say the least, but Aziraphale had always been highly unconventional. That was probably the reason that he and Crowley had taken to one another so well all those thousands of years ago.

It had also not escaped his mind that Aziraphale too had a level of power over the Demon. Crowley found him attractive and the feeling was wholeheartedly mutual. He wanted to be the one to surprise Crowley with his choice of clothes for once and Aziraphale felt a spike of adrenaline race through him at the thought.

Aziraphale jumped as the phone in the bookshop started to ring, he hastily put down his cup of tea and raced out of the sitting room to answer it. He got to the phone on the fifth ring and picked it up with slightly trembling hands.


‘Hello?’

‘Ahhh! The fair maiden hath finally awakened! Listen, I’ve secured us a reservation at a very nice little restaurant. Can you meet me outside the Nakashima teahouse in Hamarikyu Gardens in say...’

Crowley broke off for a few seconds and Aziraphale could envisage the sight of the Demon elegantly flicking back his shirtsleeve to check the time on his ridiculous watch.

'Oh bugger! Is that really the time?  Uh. Right, you should probably head over now...Oh yeah, forgot to mention. I’m in Tokyo by the way.’

Aziraphale took a few moments to summon words to reply with, his vessel quivered with suppressed joy and he couldn’t help but let out a shaky laugh.

‘Of course you bloody are. Oh, that sounds wonderful Crowley! Yes! Um…Give me a few moments to lock up and I’ll be along shortly...'

'By the way, thank you for the Earl Grey, the Cherry blossom and the beautiful Swan, my dear…It really was incredibly thoughtful of you.’

Crowley made an embarrassed non-committal noise and cleared his throat, this only made Aziraphale smile even wider, Crowley hadn’t told him to shut up for once and this fact was a definite step in the right direction.

‘All right! ALL RIGHT! You’re bloody welcome! Now. Our reservation is in twenty minutes. So no dithering around or I’ll be at the mercy of a very angry Japanese man who owns a large collection of sharp knives!’

Aziraphale’s stomach flipped at the thought of seeing Crowley so soon, he bit his lip and gripped the phone tightly in his hand. He took a calming breath and tried to make his voice sound reasonably nonchalant as his pulse rose and his heart pounded a rapid tattoo against his ribcage.

‘Uhh, right. Jolly good…I’ll um, I’ll be along shortly…Um...Crowley, Dear?’

'Yes, Angel?'

‘I love you.'

Aziraphale heard Crowley suck in a sharp breath before he let out a gentle huff of laughter.

‘I love you too, Aziraphale. Now get your feathery arse over to Ginza before I end up on the menu!'

Aziraphale let out a bright, tinkling laugh and smiled widely as Crowley’s affectionate, teasing tone flooded him with a feeling of heavenly contentment.

‘Very well, my dear. I’ll see you soon.’

Aziraphale hung up the phone with a shaky laugh and nervously ran his hands through his curls, he strolled back into the sitting room to take one more look at himself in the mirror.

Once he was satisfied, he took a deep breath and willed himself in the direction of his favourite being in the entire universe.

 

Aziraphale touched down outside a beautiful traditional teahouse; it was half shrouded in darkness and lit up faintly by the silvery glow of a full moon. It was nestled amongst clusters of pine trees and the pond surrounding the teahouse looked like a mirror, so still and silent.

Aziraphale let out a nervous breath and ran a hand through his already tousled hair and then felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up as he sensed Crowley's familiar presence.

Aziraphale snapped his fingers and a beam of light shone down on the teahouse, lighting up the pretty sloped roof; he turned in the direction of soft footsteps and a swaggering gate and came face to face with Crowley. Aziraphale had to put a hand out to lean heavily against the teahouse as he took in the delectable sight of the Demon.

He was wearing a black, crushed velvet jacket over an exquisitely tailored black silk waistcoat and a dark red v-neck t-shirt. The plunging neckline revealed an incredibly distracting amount of pale, silky skin and Aziraphale bit the inside of his lip as his skin prickled with heat and want. His eyes trailed down Crowley's torso appreciatively, but he had to swallow hard and put out a hand on the wall to steady himself at the dizzying sight before him

Really, Crowley? Oh, good lord! Not the leather trousers again! That's not fair, you bastard!

Aziraphale let his eyes travel slowly back up to Crowley's face and found that he was staring at him with blatant shock with his mouth slightly open. Aziraphale couldn't help but smirk slightly, seeing Crowley so dazed as a result of his own clothes was thrilling and instantly gratifying.

Crowley let out a shaky breath and reached out a hand to smooth his fingers over the surface of Aziraphale's bowtie.

'You wore it.'

Aziraphale shivered at the rough edge in Crowley's voice and felt his pulse begin to skyrocket, he swallowed and wrapped his arms around the Demon's waist.

'I did.'

'Hmmm...I'm glad...You Uh...You look fucking gorgeous, by the way, Angel. '

Aziraphale's face flushed a deep scarlet but felt both relieved and delighted that he had managed to catch Crowley off guard with a well put together outfit. He couldn't help but smile a little smugly at him and sighed happily as Crowley pulled him into a hug and buried his face in his shoulder.

'Thank you, Crowley, so do you. As always. But must you persist in wearing those infernal leather trousers of yours? How do you expect me to get through tonight with you swanning about like a wanton tart!?!'

Crowley let out a hastily stifled bark of laughter and pulled back to grin wolfishly at Aziraphale, he really did look absolutely dashing in a monochrome pallet. 

'I am a wanton tart! But only for you, darling!'

Aziraphale leaned against Crowley's chest and let out a hushed giggle, he tilted his head up to press a soft kiss to the Demon's lips. it was intended to be chaste, but as soon as their lips touched, Crowley gripped his shoulders and pushed him back into the wall of the teahouse with a soft growl. His decadent smell swirled around him and left him feeling dizzy and full of desperate desire.

Aziraphale gasped as Crowley caged him in and licked into his mouth with a gruff sound in the back of his throat. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley's neck and buried a hand in his long hair. He sighed as Crowley pressed himself tighter against him. A warm, solid wall of delicious contact. Aziraphale whimpered as Crowley sucked at his bottom lip before pushing him harder against the wall with a low growl.

Crowley's head was swimming but through the thick fog of desire, he remembered that he had brought Aziraphale here for a reason. He broke away from the kiss, panting for breath and trembling slightly.

'Dinner.'

Aziraphale let out a moan of protest and leaned forward to press hungry, distracting kissed into his collarbone and neck. Crowley gasped as he felt the Angel's perfect white teeth nip at his jugular vein with a growl. Crowley whimpered at the hot slide of Aziraphale's tongue against his skin.

'Angel...Ah! Fuck! You're insatiable! Not...Mmmh! Not that I'm complaining or anything...It's just that...We have exactly twelve minutes to get to the restaurant.'

Crowley pressed Aziraphale into the wall with a dark chuckle and couldn't help but lean in to kiss him again. 

Crowley pulled back and let out a shaky breath at the sight of Aziraphale looking so debauched and willing. He let out a low hiss and pressed his forehead against Aziraphale's with a soft moan. In hindsight, maybe leather trousers weren't such a good idea after all.

'I mean personally...I could quite happily stay here...and keep kissing you. I rented out a penthouse suite for us to stay in tonight and every single part of me wants to take you back there right now and have my wicked way with you...But I owe you this, Angel...'

Aziraphale claimed his lips in a short but passionate kiss and then pulled back with a low, strained moan that made Crowley's legs tremble and his pulse skyrocket.

'I'm beginning to think, dear boy...That it is you who will be the death of me!'

Crowley let out a husky chuckle and willed away his raging erection. Then he pulled Aziraphale into a tight hug before pulling back to grin cheekily at him and reach down to take one of his soft hands in his own.

'Right, Dinner. We really should be going! And I'm sure you remember the aforementioned, angry Japanese man with the sharp knives and a zero-tolerance policy towards lateness.'

Aziraphale smirked and laced his fingers tighter with Crowley's. It had only been a handful of hours since he had last seen him. But God, he had missed him.

'I don't suppose you're going to tell me where we're going are you?'

Crowley chuckled and shook his head with a grin.

'Nope. Spoils the surprise y'know? Now come on, we're already cutting it fine as it is!'

'Oh yeah, one more thing. Close your eyes, Angel, I think you're about to be very impressed with me.'

Aziraphale and Crowley touched down outside the sushi house; Crowley glanced over at Aziraphale and was pleased to see that his eyes were still closed.

'Alright, open your eyes, Angel.'

Crowley could not resist a fond, yet smug grin from spreading over his face at the sound of Aziraphale’s sharp intake of breath as he opened his eyes. He was, however, thoroughly knocked off guard as the Angel threw his arms around his neck and kissed him. It was a sweet, affectionate kiss that lasted only a few seconds, but Crowley felt his face heat up as Aziraphale pulled back with a wide smile, his eyes were slightly glassy as if he was suppressing tears of joy.

‘Even after six thousand years of knowing you, my dear, you never stop surprising me.’

Crowley blushed an even brighter shade of crimson but found that he was not displeased with Aziraphale’s words, he could only roll his eyes and grumble half-heartedly as he held the door open for the Angel.