inlovewithmycar | open post

Mm, your hands are very helpful.

[ Crowley rolls his hips into Aziraphale's questing palm just to drive the point home. ]

Reckon I'd still get a helping hand when I'm all sweaty and covered in old plaster dust...?

[Aziraphale beams at the compliment, sliding his hand a bit further and lightly stroking the inside of Crowley's thigh.]

You'd get both, dear. Maybe even a helping mouth.

[It's all too easy to imagine Crowley in some flattering workman's clothes, skin glistening from his hard work, although even in his fantasy, the angel is fussily brushing plaster dust out of his lover's hair.]

And a bath, too.

[ There is no known language outside the bedroom where the order of stuttering and breathless sounds Crowley just made form any kind of coherent words. His muscles spasm under Aziraphale's fingers and his body gives an involuntary jolt, caught between feeling pleasure and feeling ticklish. ]

Fuck me, angel, I love all those things.

[ He's gives a soft pant of laughter, quite beside himself with affection, and encircles Aziraphale in his arms. It's so easy to imagine a life together - a cozy cottage near the sea with a garden. Flowers in the spring, kissing berry stained lips in the summer, picking fruit in the autumn, and cuddled up by a fire with cocoa (and maybe a nip of brandy splashed in) during the winter. ]

...I especially love you.

[Feeling that not quite ticklish twitch underneath his fingers, Aziraphale rubs more firmly, chuckling a little at Crowley's turn of phrase. Didn't I just do that? he nearly asks, but Crowley once again takes his breath away before he even has a chance to speak. He cuddles in close, planting kisses up Crowley's neck and along his jaw.]

I love you, too.

[He seals his words with a kiss, pressing his lips to Crowley's, never tiring of the demon's taste. Sweeter than any berry, more intoxicating than any alcohol.]

I'm very much looking forward to tomorrow. And every day after that, with you.

Every day...

[ Crowley sounds awestruck by this possibility. Every day, spent just how they'd like in a life they build together. Something of their very own, to have and hold in their hands. Something that couldn't be taken from them by Heaven or Hell.

Crowley spent so many centuries trying to break the leads and chains Hell constantly attached to him, it's hard to get used to the fact that finally - finally - after all these years, he's free, and Aziraphale is free, and they can finally choose and they've chosen each other.

Such a wild notion. ]

I'm looking forward to it too, angel. Little nervous, but...

[ He's not sure 'but' would be. It's too big and too new to describe, and so he holds Aziraphale close, returning each kiss and hopes that conveys whatever his faltering words can't. ]

Every day, my dearest.

[Crowley's awe is matched by the serenity in Aziraphale's voice, his expression one of pure joy. Aziraphale may not have protested as vocally about the control Heaven had over them, but in his heart, he had longed for the opportunity to simply be with Crowley without putting either of them in jeopardy.

When Crowley admits to a bit of nerves, he gives him another kiss and strokes his side reassuringly.]

It is strange that I'm not? We've spent nearly every day together since the Apocalypse was averted, and all it's done is make me love you more. Sharing a home will only add to that, I'm sure of it.

[ Crowley gives a soft chuckle. No, he thinks, it's not entirely strange. It always strikes him how, in so many regards, they're very similar, and Aziraphale wanting to be the one to dive in head first while Crowley is still wrapping his head around things only highlights that.

And there is nothing that quite reassures his many anxieties like Aziraphale's kiss and touch. Crowley visibly relaxes, exhaling his tension into the crook of Aziraphale's neck. ]

You're right - known each other for six thousand years - if we haven't driven each other up the wall yet, I don't think it's going to happen.

[Aziraphale laughs quietly, placing his hand on the crown of Crowley's head and gently scratching at his scalp, mindful of his braid.]

As I told you that first night we were together, I'm all caught up to you now. I can't imagine anything changing that.

[The angel may need some time (like, say, over a century) to come around on an idea, but once he puts his mind to something, he really does give it his all.]

But it's all right to be a little nervous, too. It takes time to settle into new routines.

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