Chapter Text
Crowley opened the door of his shiny black Bentley and Aziraphale got inside. Being romanced was exhilarating and provocative. There was thousands of years of longing and familiarity, but this…a proper courtship was new and just so endearing. Aziraphale had been courted for just a little while years ago, until he figured out what was happening and he put an end to it. He’d considered Oscar a friend, but Mr. Wilde had considered them something more. It made him anxious — it got to the point where he didn’t even want to see Oscar anymore, knowing what he’d been chasing. Humans were emotional and complicated, and he didn’t always know how to deal with all human sorts of situations. He knew what the poet was after and it was not happening. Not with him anyway. It was flattering of course, but those types of advances were not suitable to his tastes.
But these sweet advances…making him tea, having some of his favorite things at his flat, opening the door…these made him feel warm and so magnetically drawn to this wild soul. Crowley chased after his friendship and companionship, seeing and respecting his very self and who he was as an entity. For heaven’s sake, Crowley had copies of the complete works of Jane Austen and Shakespeare lined up neatly on the mantle over the fireplace. That in and of itself swept Aziraphale off his feet, not to mention knowing that Crowley slept wrapped in a blanket of the angel’s own family tartan which was only shared between the two of them.
Can you fix this for me, he’d asked earlier, extending his toothbrush, his angel wing ring hanging from the end of it. Aziraphale took the ring, and deconsecrated it, making it no longer a holy object and therefore something he could wear without being burned. Then, he deconsecrated his own angel wing ring, so if Crowley held his hand, his ring wouldn’t burn the demon either. Crowley held out his hand so that Aziraphale could slide the ring onto his finger, then kissed him softly. Being courted like this was achingly tender, and though they considered themselves to be married and had walked at each other’s sides for thousands of years, Crowley courted and romanced him anyway.
“Ready, angel?” Crowley asked as he sat down in the drivers seat. After Aziraphale had ascended, Crowley decided he was going to grow his hair again, and it was just nearly at the point where he would begin to tie up the top half of his hair. Only nearly though, and a chunk of his coiffed hair had fallen down over his forehead. It was the happiest he’d been in his entire existence; his expression much softer. He started the engine then reached over and took the angel’s hand. Etta James’ beautiful voice began to croon At Last over the speakers, soft and crackly.
“Ready,” he replied adoringly. “Did you pick the song?”
“Nah, that was Bentley’s doing,” he said, and began to drive. Aziraphale thought that was precious…he loved the Bentley and he knew the Bentley enjoyed his company too. Crowley took his hand and kissed his knuckles. The inside of his stomach felt like it was swarming with angry geese and he tried to not appear as though he was stressed as he started to regret having bought the house. Had he gone insane? They had starkly different tastes in things, what had made him think that Aziraphale would like a house that he had picked? Crowley’s flat was stark and clinical. Limited decor and furniture, everything had its place, and if it didn’t have a place then it wouldn’t be in his space. The bookshop, on the other hand was warm and cozy, cluttered with stacks of books and knick knacks, not even two teacups in his set of teacups matched. He was filled with a sudden sense of foreboding. What if he hates it? It’s too late now you idiot, you should’ve waited…fuck he might hate it. You could always sell it, go shopping with him next time..
“What,” Crowley said under his breath, suddenly plucked from his downward spiral, then cocked his head to look down at the pedals. He had his foot to the floor but she wouldn’t go any faster than the speed limit. “Is this your doing,” he asked Aziraphale accusingly.
“No…but perhaps it is time to slow down a bit, hmm?” The angel relaxed into the seat happily, quite pleased.
“S’posed to listen to meee,” Crowley hissed at the steering wheel, definitely on edge. “You so much as think of turning yellow I swear to Satan—“
“So…you bought this place last week,” Aziraphale interrupted brightly. He was secretly so charmed with Bentley’s song and speed.
“Yeah,” he grumped.
“How…did you pay for it? If I may ask?” He knew Crowley had never held a real job and didn’t have any investments…that he knew of.
“Sold a few of Jane’s diamonds in London,” he said casually. After Ms. Austen had scooped handful after handful of loose diamonds into her bag at the Clerkenwell diamond shop, big thanks to Crowley’s lock picking abilities of course, she took as large a handful of the diamonds as she could and dumped them into his pocket as payment. Several of them were quite large with nearly flawless quality and worth a pretty penny to the right buyer at an upscale jewelry shop.
“Oh…lovely,” Aziraphale said, trying to sound sincere. He quite enjoyed Jane’s literary works and her balls but did not approve of her otherwise…bad influence, that one.
“Mhm,” he hummed, stroking the back of his angel’s hand, a tiny smile upturning his lips. Crowley knew how his angel felt about Jane Austen and her tactical acquisitions. The look he saw on Aziraphale’s face through a little side glance confirmed it.
“Is there a garage, for the car, then?” Change the subject.
“Nah.. she’ll be fine.” Shit what if he wanted a car of his own? What if our kids have cars?
“I’m surprised how new she still looks…after…well lots of things…like when you hit that lorry carrying lumber in 1930…”
“He hit me—“
“And 1941 after your demonic intervention…driving through the embers —”
“Had to get you and your books home angel.” After a long moment, he leaned in conspiratorially. “You know…when we danced that night…Nightingales...I wanted to kiss you so bad and I nearly did,” Crowley said with a little laugh.
Aziraphale’s face flushed a lovely pink and he smiled wistfully. “I couldn’t believe you saved my books…and I remember, I thought you were going to and I wanted desperately for you to kiss me too…but I…know it was for the best that you didn’t.” He said the last part quietly with a little nod. With crystal clear recollection, he could feel their faces slotted together, forehead to forehead, lips about an inch apart. His heart fluttered in his chest, and when he peeked, Crowley’s eyes were closed, his dark eyelashes fanned out, freckles spattering his nose and cheeks. Crowley tucked his chin just slightly, but then inhaled a shuddering breath and turned his face, so they would be cheek to cheek. So close, the disappointment of not making that forbidden connection was painful.
“Wuh..why’s that,” Crowley asked with a side glance through the dark lenses of his glasses. They only had a few more minutes to go.
“Well I…we drank a lot of wine…” Aziraphale was now blushing furiously.
“Go on,” Crowley said, intrigued by this reaction…even through his glasses he could see the angel’s face darkening.
“I don’t think I could have stopped,” he said quietly, looking out the window, his ears now feeling hot. His free hand pulled at the hem of his waistcoat. Even now, he ached to kiss Crowley, and kiss him until they couldn’t breathe. A few days ago, they both woke from napping in each other’s arms and they kissed — Aziraphale had tried to deepen the kiss just a little, but it was not requited. Slow, he’d thought to himself.
“What’s that mean,” he said, riveted, attempting to both glance at him and somehow keep his eyes on the road. This was thoroughly distracting. Absentmindedly, Crowley continued to brush his thumb over the back of Aziraphale’s hand. Of course, he’d thought about being intimate with the love of his long life thousands of times, but now that he finally had the chance, he wasn’t sure he was ready to actually act on it. There was no need to hurry or to do it just to do it, and bonding in other ways so far had been exactly what he needed. Everything about the last week had shaken him to his core. Changing every aspect of their relationship…in their openness, affection, trust, friendship, and yes, their physical relationship as well after thousands of years upended his entire foundation. Everything he knew and cared about, really. Not to mention there was a huge part of Aziraphale he didn’t even know existed, after all this time. From the first time their eyes met up on that wall, it was the same feeling he’d still get…only slightly different now. More, somehow. Intense. It gave him the feeling that they were meeting for the first time, in a way. Taking another step so soon felt like it could be too much too fast. And yet—
“You know what it means,” he said, pained. “I’m sure I would have gotten carried away—“
Crowley listened quietly, his heart pounding, still stroking his thumb back and forth as if in a trance. He swallowed hard. “Yeah?”
“I…wanted to love your body…with my own—“ Carefully concealed feelings and desires trickled through the cracks in the walls he constructed and kept fiercely guarded for so long and he thought of how he wished he’d told Crowley how he really felt, when he was imprisoned and afraid he wouldn’t get the chance again. Tell him what you want, you silly thing! This is your wife! By now, he’d read enough books on the topic that he could put it into words, he just needed to shape the sounds and say them out loud. “I had loved you for so long, even when I couldn’t…I loved you then as I love you now, just like this. In that moment, I would have risked everything, Crowley, just to taste you…to feel you inside of me, just once,” he said quietly.
Crowley felt like he was having an out of body experience. At that time, he wouldn’t have guessed that the angel had those kinds of desires, especially for him. Physical desires that burned…lust, even. Angels of all things were far too pure for that. He’d figured that Aziraphale would have allowed a kiss, and probably would have kissed him back, but surely that would have been the end of it. They had been drinking a lot, after all, and emotions had been running high that day. It was all he could do to not steer them into a ditch at that point as he listened to these revelations.
“I would have carried you upstairs, and kissed you until you were breathless…” he said slowly in a low voice, looking out the window.
By this point, Crowley was breathless. Never in all his life on Earth had he imagined hearing these words coming out of his angel’s mouth. That deeper tone was…hngg. They were pulling into the neighborhood.
“…and worshipped a demon down on my knees…” Crowley’s chin dropped, and Aziraphale turned his head to meet his gaze while he spoke, his face and ears flushed as he spoke lewd, blasphemous words out loud for the first time in his life. “And I would have taken you with my hands, my tongue…and, well…you know...” Saying these things in his posh little accent sounded so wrong.
“The fuck does that mean, angel? Take me with your tongue?” His pulse was pounding in his temples, and was about to pull into the driveway.
“Like this,” he said softly, and brought Crowley’s hand to his lips. He kissed the apex where his first finger and middle finger met with a little sigh. God, how he had wanted to taste his skin, for so long. And now here he was, feeling the texture of his demon’s skin with his hungry tongue. All at once he felt quite empowered and very aroused…he wanted more badly.
“Oh…fu—“ he tried to say, feeling plush lips on his hand...not like the little kisses they had been planting on each other’s hands and lips but…this had intent. A purpose that felt slinky and hot. Then, he ran his tongue up and down the seam of his two fingers, just down to the middle knuckles. “Fuck, angel,” he gasped, as realization washed over him. His stomach swooped as the thought crossed his mind. Then, that warm, wet tongue pushed between his fingers, slowly, then retracted, and then went in again, fervid as fuck all. “Aziraphale—“ And a moment later, the nose of the Bentley collided with the mailbox outside of their cottage. They both blinked at each other, then saw what they had hit. Luckily, they hadn’t hit it hard…just hard enough to push the wooden post to an angle. Crowley quickly took his glasses off with his steering hand, then sucked in a hard breath. It was possible that his blood was on fire. “You can’t do that while I’m driving, angel…holy fuck,” he said raggedly.
“I’m so sorry, dear,” the angel replied with the tiniest smile, then laid one more kiss where his fingers touched, swirling his tongue around, lingering for a long moment.
“Fucking hell,” he breathed watching the show, totally captivated. Compared to watching this, sucking honey or chocolate off a spoon was like watching grass grow or ducks swim. This experience had him reeling, having been touched lasciviously…carnally.
“Is this our place?” Aziraphale then asked brightly, switching gears in a casually destructive way. His face lit up in a brilliant smile as he looked out of the windows of the Bentley.
“Uh…yeah…” Crowley groaned, attempting to recover from what was the most erotic moment of his entire existence. If he smoked, he’d have needed a cigarette and he suddenly understood why humans did that in movies. The feeling of warm breath blowing across his knuckles, and lips and tongue and…fuck, fuck he wants to take me like THAT holy shit…. The image of him being carried upstairs and the mechanics of being taken by his tongue holy fuck…
He’d have to get it together if they were ever going to see the place. “You wanna go in,” he asked in a gravelly voice, trying to appear as though he was not having a heart attack. His elbow was propped on the window ledge, with his hand resting across his forehead.
“I’ll need a minute, darling,” Aziraphale replied, spying the glorious flush in his cheeks and neck. Watching Crowley trying to put himself back together after he personally took him apart was the best thing he’d witnessed, possibly ever. He could clearly see his chest rising and falling; his hand being squeezed hard enough to leave white fingerprint impressions on his skin. It was his life’s new mission to make him react just like that. With nearly a straight face and his fussy accent, he added, “If there’s any neighbors out, I’d like to not have an erection when we meet them.”
Crowley turned his head quickly and his jaw dropped once again. “You…”
“Yes, I’m afraid…someone could probably see it from the bookshop if they were looking in the right direction,” he said, then straightened his bow tie primly. He may have been exaggerating a bit for effect.
At this, Crowley burst into peals of hysterical laughter. This was the other effect Aziraphale was going for. Yes, not only was it his new life’s mission to arouse him, but also to make him laugh just like this. He snorted and wiped tears from his eyes, and the angel laughed too.
“You’re full of surprises aren’t you,” Crowley said, his face still flushed and lit with a lovely smile, looking straight into those blue eyes, now completely disarmed. The memory of Aziraphale’s tongue still danced along his skin. It was moments like this, getting a laugh so good that it made his face hurt...it was all he’d waited for, even if he didn’t realize it. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Well I haven’t had it in me…not yet,” he said softly with a wink and a devious grin.
Crowley’s eyes changed from warm and sweet to surprised. “Wha—“
“Come on let’s go…I want to see the garden,” the angel said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek, then opened the car door and hopped out. “Oh, I love it…” The house was white with light grey trim, and it was perfect.
The demon got out too, laughing his ass off, rubbing his hand across his face. “Angel, you can’t just say things like that—“
“Come along Crowley,” he said fussily, holding out his hand as he started walking to the grass on the side of the house. It appeared that the garden backed up to a little valley. Crowley took his hand and put his glasses on and allowed himself to be dragged to the side of the house. His face ached from having laughed so hard. There were tall, old oak trees shading the side of the house, and the kitchen window faced the trees. Perfect place for a picnic, Aziraphale thought to himself. Sure enough, as they walked further in, they could see that the garden did back up to a little valley with a walking path down below. Planting beds lined the entire house along the edge, which would be lovely spots for flowers and oh, maybe raspberry bushes?
“That tree over there, that’s an apple tree,” Crowley said, pointing to a large tree in the middle of the garden. Little baby leaves and unopened flowers covered the branches, lying in wait for spring.
“Appropriate, don’t you think? We started in a garden, and now we’re here…with a garden of our own.”
“Yeah,” he replied, standing in the sunshine, gazing at an apple tree, holding hands with the Guardian of the Eastern Gate. It was strange to think about it, the day they met and where they were in life now. It was unreal when he thought about it. Standing side by side as enemies at the top of the wall, and now side by side as best friends and lovers. Aziraphale picked up on his vibration, and laid his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “Think I’ll put some trellises over there…grow some grapes,” he said, pointing to another area of the garden.
“I can’t wait to see it, darling, it will be so lovely,” Aziraphale said warmly.
“You wanna go inside?” So far so good, seems to like it, he thought with relief.
“I would love to, yes.” The side of the house that faced the garden had a door that attached to the kitchen, and there were two large windows that could see into the living room. There were two smaller windows on the second story, most likely windows to a bedroom. He was led by the hand to the back door which had a large rectangular window. Since their reunion, they held hands, almost constantly; being connected on the physical level was an incredible source of comfort and grounding.
Crowley reached into his pocket to find his house key. “How’s your little um…problem? Better now?” he asked with a little grin.
Going there again are we? He found it so sweet that Crowley was goading him into flirting, teasing…playing. Like he wanted to laugh again because laughing and having fun were experiences few and far between…and he was asking him for it because he liked it. My God, he’s telling you what he needs… This doting husband was going to meet the needs of his wife who was communicating after eternities of keeping his needs to himself.
“I assure you, it’s not a little problem, dear…It’s a fairly good sized problem, if I do say so myself…”
The demon choked and coughed on something that wasn’t there, the back of his neck and his ears turning red as he fumbled with the lock. “Fuck, Aziraphale,” he said under his breath then laughed softly, turning the key in the lock. The bait was seen and taken, then thrown right back. He fucking loved it. “Satan give me strength.”
Aziraphale took great pleasure in seeing him flush. “You’re going to need it,” he said in his low bedroom voice close to Crowley’s ear as they stepped into the kitchen. “Oh, I love it,” he said so happily. It was a small kitchen, but bright, with a marble countertop and stainless steel appliances.
The vibration from his voice and the warmth of his breath on the shell of his ear produced goosebumps on the back of the demon’s neck and he squeezed Aziraphale’s hand as he shivered. His eyes were trained on the angel, watching for his reaction to seeing the house for the first time.
“Do you always wear your…y’know,” Crowley asked quietly as they stepped into the living room.
“Whatever do you mean, my love,” he asked innocently. Those glasses needed to go, and Aziraphale took them gently off of his face, then folded them and put them on the kitchen countertop. He looked into Crowley’s eyes with a little grin.
“Your—“ he stopped and laughed. Fuck, but he loved this playful side. “You know what I mean.” Crowley’s face was beet red and now he was trying to keep a serious face.
Aziraphale sucked his bottom lip as he tried so hard not to laugh, but then seeing Crowley trying not to laugh made him laugh even harder. He snorted and clasped his hands behind his back. “I’m sure I don’t. You’ll have to be more specific.” Crowley swallowed, and closed his eyes, trying so hard not to laugh, his face and ears hot. The angel bit his bottom lip to stifle his giggles, then looked sweetly into the gorgeous yellow eyes he loved. “Well?”
“Your effort, angel,” he halfway squeaked.
“Are you inquiring about the demon destroyer,” the angel asked as primly as he could muster.
“Oh my God angel, what the fuck,” Crowley choked out in absolute hysterics. He had never laughed so hard in his entire existence. Aziraphale was laughing so hard he was wheezing and his face hurt. Crowley saw Aziraphale wheezing, with his head thrown back laughing his ass off and he cackled, wiping tears from his face.
Aziraphale had also never laughed like this in his entire existence, and watching Crowley with joy on his face was something he’d wanted so badly. Putting that smile on his face was incredible. This was fun...priceless. Finally, they both managed to somewhat catch their breath.
“And for the record, the answer is yes, I do wear it all the time,” the angel said, his cheeks flushed as he adjusted his bow tie.
“Why do you wear it all the time?”
“Well…I like it.” His voice was lower now, and he took Crowley’s hand in his. The demon looked like he was thinking hard for a moment, contemplating. “I use it,” he said quietly.
“Oh,” he said thoughtfully. “Who—“ he started to ask. Who have you been with? I mean that’s ok but…
“No one, Crowley,” the angel said softly, reading his face. Crowley blinked at him, processing. “I use it when I’m alone…and I think of you.” He smiled at him adoringly, even though his cheeks felt like they were on fire.
Crowley looked at him, about as delighted as he was when he found out that this very angelic angel gave away his flaming sword. “Aziraphale…you wank and think of me?”
“Yes I do,” he replied primly, smoothing down his shirt and waistcoat.
The shellshocked demon rubbed his palms of his eyes and laughed softly. He had learned so much about his rather prissy bookseller in just a couple of hours. He learned something new everyday. “I love you so much, come here,” Crowley said, putting both hands on Aziraphale’s face, then kissed him soundly. He slid his hands to his back and held him close, then his angel was leaning in, holding him back and sighing softly. And then way too soon for Aziraphale’s liking, Crowley pulled away. “Should we see the rest of the house,” he asked, his face soft and happy.
“Yes, I think we should,” he replied, then looked around. There was a stone fireplace, with a mantle. “We could sit here next to the fire, with some tea and a book…I’d love to read to you.”
“S‘long as it’s not Hamlet or some other boring shit.”
“You could put some of your plants over there…” Aziraphale said, pointing to a sunny spot in front of a window. “Oh…I think this belongs here,” he said, then reached into his inner coat pocket. In his hand was the one and only existing picture of them, taken that night in 1941 when so much had happened. Nearly being shot, being rescued, the books being saved, the performance on the West End stage, the bullet catch, and of course drinking wine by candlelight as Crowley thought it would be his last night on Earth, and he wanted to spend it with his one and only. But to Crowley’s surprise, the evidence had been taken and it was not to be his last night on Earth. Aziraphale healed his injured feet, and then they held each other and slow danced…they nearly kissed. This one old black and white picture held some of their most treasured memories. “There,” he said, placing it on the mantle over the fireplace, and he sighed happily. Crowley brushed his thumb over the back of Aziraphale’s hand. He hadn’t realized that picture still existed and his heart melted to think of it being in his angel’s pocket all that time, carried around for all those years.
“You’ve still got it…after all this time,” Crowley said in quiet amazement.
“I’ve carried it with me everyday.” The one and only photograph of the two of them that had ever been taken was precious to him, and he’d prayed silently when he was incarcerated that he wouldn’t be searched and the faded black and white photo taken. He squeezed Crowley’s hand a little, and Crowley squeezed his back.
There were two windows facing out on either side of the front door. From the windows they could see the Bentley, her nose still pressed against the mailbox post which was bent at an unnatural angle, but then, oh then, they had a clear view of the sea. Crowley looked at Aziraphale to catalogue the look upon his face when he saw the water in the distance. The angel turned and looked at him in delight.
“Oh, Crowley I didn’t even notice the sea when we were driving here,” he said, surprised but so happy.
“Well you know you were busy doing the…thing,” he gestured towards Aziraphale’s face. His cheeks turned pink and he smiled a shy little smile. “You know…the thing with the uh…your tongue.”
“I suppose we were a bit preoccupied, weren’t we?”
“Mhm,” he hummed, unable to keep the thought out of his head and the feeling from ghosting over his hand once again. There was a sitting room on the other side of the front door, opposite the fireplace in the living room. “Thought I could build you some bookshelves in here,” Crowley said quietly, eyeing the perfect space for floor to ceiling bookshelves. His mind darted to the two of them in his bedroom and his face felt quite warm.
“That would be lovely,” Aziraphale breathed, then kissed Crowley on the cheek, bouncing on the balls of his feet just a little. “Darling you’re so creative…tell me what you have in mind?”
“Floor to ceiling bookshelves, maybe with a ladder so you can reach the top shelf,” he said thoughtfully, hoping that his angel would like the idea, and not just say he did to be polite.
“I just love bookshelves with the ladders…have you built anything like this before?”
“No, but I watched some YouTube videos and I have a friend who’s a carpenter…think I could do it.”
“We’ll have to invite Jesus and his mother over sometime,” Aziraphale said wistfully.
“Go upstairs?” Aziraphale’s reaction to the house so far had been exactly what he’d hoped for, and he let himself relax.
“Yes,” he said, and followed Crowley to the staircase. “Don’t you ever wear an effort, dear?” the angel asked casually as they went up the stairs. He asked this question as he watched the demon’s backside as they ascended the staircase… the feeling of wanting to claim and to consume this beautiful thing had become an obsession and at times, he felt like he could climb out of his skin as he resisted the urge.
“Uhh…not real often, no,” he said, his voice sounding a little higher than usual after having been taken off guard.
“And why not?” For being an angel, he sure did have a mischievous look on his face.
“Well, you know it’s just uncomfortable, specially in these pants,” Crowley said quickly as they arrived at the top of the stairs.
“Yes,” Aziraphale said slowly, as he did appreciate those pants. They walked into a small room.
That response had given Crowley pause, and he grinned just a little. Being told how desired he was was exciting. “First bedroom,” he said as they looked around, suddenly self conscious of his pants. Too tight? The window looked out over the backyard garden.
“I’ve tried to figure out if you were wearing yours, although usually I quite enjoy watching your backside,” he said in his fussy accent as they walked out of the room and into the second small bedroom. This one also had a window that looked out over the backyard garden.
“My ass? It’s…bloody tiny, I haven’t even got an ass—“ he said quickly, his words running together.
“I know,” Aziraphale said in a gravelly voice, giving him an appraising look that gave Crowley a swooping feeling in his stomach.
That look and that tone of voice…fuck. And this side of Aziraphale…he felt like a moth whose wings were getting singed by flying too close to the fire.
Crowley led his angel by the hand to a third, larger bedroom. “This’s—“
“Our room…oh Crowley, it’s just perfect,” he cooed. There was a large window looking over the other side of the house, which had a view of a few other houses, and some rolling hills beyond. A little nook off to the side was framed in built-in bookshelves, and some hooks on the ceiling suggested that plants with long vines should hang there in the sunshine. A tiled bathroom was to their left, and they walked inside hand in hand. When Aziraphale spied the two person shower, he gave Crowley a raised eyebrow look with an amused smile, and he returned it wordlessly. A beautiful claw footed bathtub sat opposite the shower.
“Didn’t know how many babies you’d want but I thought room for two would be a good start,” Crowley said quitely, nuzzling his face into the side of his love’s head, nose in his hair near his ear. Aziraphale took a deep breath, tears pricking at his eyes. “There’s a wine fridge too, in the basement.” The angel closed his eyes and sniffed, feeling reality blooming in his mind, the thought of standing in their forever home after all this time was so sweet his heart ached. Crowley kissed his cheek and wrapped Aziraphale in a hug. “And there’s a little pond not too far, with ducks, and a bench.” There was another sniff and Aziraphale hugged him back, arms under his, then rested his head on his shoulder.
“You did such a good job Crowley…it’s…it’s everything….thank you,” he whispered.
“Glad you like it, angel,” he said softly, then pulled back to look into those stormy blue eyes. The feeling of falling in love all over again, and being so…happy…it burned through the demon like wild fire and he felt drunk with the experience. There was no doubt in his mind that Aziraphale loved the house that he picked for them. He could just see mornings in bed and walks to the pond and late nights with a bottle of wine. He was desired. And heard and seen. And appreciated. Believing that it was real, and it could be true, that the eternally damned could have something like this was foreign but now within reach.
The praise brushed against that piece of him that was dark and deeply broken but he didn’t resist this time. Allowing it to happen felt like running hands against the grain of his very essence but he allowed it anyway, feeling severely exposed and he hugged his angel tightly. “I love you,” he said quietly.
“I love you, sweetheart,” Aziraphale said, and he could feel the ache and the tenderness seeping from Crowley in thick energetic waves as he hugged him back. Being an angel of the Lord and a being made of love, he thought he’d known what love was and what it felt like, but this…this was a love that he’d never known and he couldn’t ask for more. This demon’s love was born from a spark of hope, kept alive for millennia hidden in the dark, in fear, in pain. And even though he’d been broken, tortured, and burned alive his love was vulnerable and gentle, given so freely. It burrowed its way into core of his celestial being and it took his breath away.
“Back to the bookshop, angel?” Crowley asked. He liked asking for what he wanted, and to be given exactly what was sought. To receive. His love language was gifts of service, and to have that itch scratched whenever he asked or even without asking was just incredible. The bookshop was truly his favorite place; the place he’d considered to be his real home since the shop opened. Of course that would be changing in short order, as they moved into their new cottage, but for now, he wanted to go home and exist there like it really was his home, and not just a place he visited and had to leave but dearly wished he didn’t have to. They could stay up late with some wine without having to worry about who might be watching. He could finally see what Aziraphale’s bedroom looked like, curl up in his bed on his sheets that smelled like him. Even if the angel never slept, he knew that reading cozy in bed with a cup of tea late into the night was a nightly occurrence. He’d seen Jim’s small bedroom but never where his angel went when he needed refuge, and now he could partake and rest his soul in that private space.
“Yes but…I rather think some celebration is in order, don’t you,” Aziraphale said, blinking his happy tears back, his face beaming.
“What did you have in mind?”
“How about champagne at the Ritz?”
Crowley grinned and kissed his angel on the forehead. “I think a table for two will be opening up shortly.”