inlovewithmycar | open post

[Aziraphale has certainly noticed how much more time Crowley has been spending at his bookshop and the flat above, and there are no complaints from him. There have been changes to the flat, however, most notably a general tidying up and rehoming many books to the shop below so that it looks more like a place to live and less like a cluttered attic. Based on that alone, Aziraphale seems rather eager to share his personal space with Crowley.

He hasn't said anything yet, of course. He might be waiting for Crowley to broach the subject. He has that sleek and expensive flat in Mayfair, after all, and cohabitation is significant step in any relationship. He won't turn away any plants that Crowley brings by, though, or anything else he wants to leave in the flat or the back of the shop.

The praise makes him smile, a warm feeling in his chest as he continues to wash Crowley's hair.]

As much as I'd like to comply, I do need to rinse your hair at some point, you know.

[The shampoo is as lathered in as it's ever going to get, but he spends a little extra time massaging Crowley's scalp, turning the demon into a delightfully limp noodle.]

Tilt your head back again, my dear? I'll rinse your hair and start afresh.

[ It's a good thing Aziraphale doesn't seem to mind rubbing his scalp because it's a little while before Crowley's brain registers what his ears heard. Eventually he manages to finally process the angel's words and his head falls back obediently.

He had thought he'd never want to come out Aziraphale's bed. Now he's fairly certain he could at least do with a good soak for the next two centuries provided that he doesn't have to part from Aziraphale's warmth (made only warmer by the bathwater). ]

Mm, this is nice. I'll leave everything to your very capable hands, shall I?

[Aziraphale is a patient angel, although he can't help but be amused at the way Crowley fuzzily complies. They really should have done this sooner, but they were too busy making up for lost time, and he won't trade that first week they were in bed together for anything.]

Yes, you shall. I'll take very good care of you and your hair.

[Picking up a cup from the edge of the tub, he fills it with water from the tap, then pours it over Crowley's hair. It takes a few pours to clear away all the lather, but the water is always the perfect temperature and he keeps his other hand at Crowley's eyebrows to shield him from any errant droplets.]

Perhaps I can have a detachable faucet installed, like they use at the salon, if this becomes a regular thing. What do you use to wash your hair at your flat?

[ It takes a sort of iron clad self-control to not just turn over and drape himself over Aziraphale, yet Crowley bravely preservers. ]

Just what you're doing now. S'more relaxing.

[ Crowley feels like there should be more to his hair care routine than a rather innocuous oil, a bit of shampoo, gentle rinsing, and a bit of brushing, but he finds that in this case, following fads only left his hair a dry mess.

He reaches up to cup the angel's cheek in his palm. ]

You're doing perfectly. This feels incredible.

[Too bad, he'd get a glimpse of Aziraphale's concentrating face, the tip of his tongue sticking out as he methodically rinses away the last of the lather. This routine, as simple as it is, is satisfying a deep itch within Aziraphale. He turns his head to kiss Crowley's palm, smiling from the praise.]

It's rather lovely on this end, too. Budge up, dear, it's onto round two.

[He gently nudges Crowley's head back up, and helps himself to another small dollop of shampoo that he massages into Crowley's hair, significantly less oily this time around.]

[ It's a shame Crowley misses it. He loves to watch every little micro-expression Aziraphale makes, and the angel is ever so expressive.

Without fuss Crowley leans forward again, making a low noise of approval. ]

This feels wonderful. Be careful though - might try to tempt you into taking over this whole routine completely.

[ He doesn't want to picture how he'll make big snake eyes at Aziraphale while holding up the jar of coconut oil and bottle of shampoo while making an imploring pout. It's too much for his very demonic pride. ]

[It's not Crowley's style to pout and plead, although he can be very persuasive in his own way. The suggestion alone makes Aziraphale feel all warm inside over the possibility.]

I'd be delighted to, you know, every time. We could start every morning with a good brushing, at the very least.

[He hums a little tune as he continues to wash Crowley's hair, unaware of what he just implied, that Crowley spend every night at Aziraphale's so that he can care for that lustrous hair in the morning. After a longer-than-necessary massage, he tilts Crowley's head back again and reaches for the cup.]

Last rinse, dear.

[ Crowley doesn't miss the implication. He is nothing short of delighted by it as he tilts his head back, gazing adoringly up at Aziraphale.

Maybe they're still struggling with being direct, and maybe they would for a long time coming. Six thousand years is a long time for habits to get ingrained, but he wants Aziraphale to know he's seen. ]

Every morning, eh? I like the sound of that.

[ His fingers had returned to trailing up and down Aziraphale's thigh. ]

I'll bring my toiletries over then? ...Maybe a few other things from the flat too...?

[ Give him an inch... ]

[It gets easier every time, especially when Crowley acknowledges what he's asking and affirms that it isn't too much or too soon. He kisses his forehead, then resumes rinsing his hair, as careful as he was the first go-round.

The fingers on his thigh put a smile on his face, once that fully blossoms when Crowley offers to bring a few of his items over.]

Yes, please do. I'll even give you half the vanity. [His voice is teasing; Crowley can take up as much space as he likes.] What other sorts of things are you thinking?

[ Crowley likes that. Half of the vanity to each of them, puttering around in the bathroom together until, in a few months time, all their things are mixed together.

Crowley remembers happiness as well. Constant, unfathomable, ineffable joy of being in Her service, and yet it was never enough. He always wanted more.

Here, in this moment, it's enough. This joy he feels is fathomable and very effable. They had, in fact, been effing just the other day on the sofa. But it was enough. Half of a vanity. A warm bath with Aziraphale. Little plans for days to come.

He's not sure why it's something so small that hits him so hard, but it does and he turns his soapy head into the crook of Aziraphale's neck. ]

Don't have too many things besides my plants, the Mona Lisa, and some sculptures.

[ He grins against Aziraphale's throat. ]

...And the throne.

[ He loves the throne. It's so cheap, so tacky, so over-the-top, so utterly against his minimalist decor - it was one of the few bits of his actual personality he'd let the Mayfair flat reflect. ]

[It is such a simple thing to offer, some space for Crowley to put his things, but the angel knows that it means so much more than that to them both. It's a warm, tenable feeling, a love that has roots deep within his heart and has branched and blossomed all around them, still expanding and filling the flat and bookshop that he hopes one day soon they can share without the pretense of Crowley merely visiting.

That day might be coming soon if those are the items Crowley is thinking of bringing over. The plants especially, although the thought of that throne somewhere in the flat or back of the bookshop makes him chuckle. He presses a kiss to a spot on Crowley's head that is free of suds and pretends to mull it over while pouring another cup of clean water over his hair.]

I'm sure we can find a proper place for all of that. We should probably keep that statue of the two angels fornicating upstairs, though. I wouldn't want any customers to get the wrong idea.

[ Crowley's contented sigh is cut off with the need to go on yet another meandering ramble in defense of his Very Tasteful decor. ]

It's art, for someone's sake Aziraphale, and they're fighting not fucking -

[ Crowley pauses mid-rant, and decides to actually just admit the truth to himself and the world. ]

Right, fine, they are fucking, and what better way to deter the kinds of customers you don't like than with a bit of homoerotic religious paraphernalia?

[ He grins up at Aziraphale, and gives a suggestive little wriggle between his legs. ]

Especially the ones that come in with pamphlets.

[Aziraphale giggles like a fiend all through Crowley's protest and subsequent begrudging admittance of the truth, hard enough that he has to set aside the cup he's using to rinse Crowley's hair or risk sloshing water all over.]

First of all, the ones with pamphlets aren't customers. You know that type never buys a damn thing from anyone. Secondly --

[He hems Crowley in a bit more with his legs, squeezing enticingly.]

I think having a gorgeous specimen such as yourself hanging about the shop and calling me pet names is enough to drive them off.

[ Safely corralled between Aziraphale's legs, Crowley's arm snakes up to the back of the angel's head, and guides it just so that Crowley can plant slightly soapy flavoured kisses to his mouth. ]

Mm, got a bit of a game for getting rid of pamphlet pushers. Never the same way twice. Gonna have a whole new world of options with you in on the fun.

[ He nuzzles up against Aziraphale's cheek. ]

And the statue may dissuade book collectors who very much aren't your sort.

[Aziraphale indulges in a round of kissing, arms sliding forward to encircle Crowley's chest. The demon's skin is delightfully slippery under the water and he finds it a touch difficult to resume their conversation.]

Oh, you -- mmm -- you would make a game out of it...

[He gives Crowley another squeeze before reluctantly disengaging and nudging him a touch forward.]

All right, you've convinced me. The fornicating angel statue can go somewhere in the shop. Now let me get the last of the suds out of your hair before I hiccup out a bubble.

[ Crowley practically preens with triumph, leaning forward so that Aziraphale can finish his work. ]

If I'd known the best way to talk you into something is to kiss you, I would have done it ages ago.

[ Aziraphale would be well within his rights to dump the whole cup of water over the demons head. Crowley looks altogether far too pleased with himself. ]

[Aziraphale rinses off the last of the suds with as much care as before, letting Crowley have his moment of glory, but as soon as he's done, his fingers hone into the demon's sides for a brief tickle.]

It's unwise to brag about tactical vulnerabilities while leaving oneself so exposed, darling.

[He pours a cup of water over his own shoulder to wash away the coconut oil and shampoo residue. Satisfied, he pulls Crowley close to him once more and kisses his ear.]

There... what's next, now that we're both squeaky clean?

[ Crowley lets loose an embarrassingly high-pitched whine as his body goes rigid and limbs thrash and splash about reflexively. Oh that's just playing dirty!

Crowley twists himself around until he's chest-to-chest with Aziraphale, long legs straddling him, and his body comfortably draped over the angel. At least his sensitive underbelly is shielded, but his sides are still exposed. He can't stay tense for long, not in the warm water, with his arms dangling loosely around Aziraphale's neck and his ear thoroughly kisses, and Crowley relaxes once more, despite his erection. Though in Crowley's defense, it's almost ever-present these days, and he's very good at ignoring it. ]

You did such a marvelous job with my hair, how about you let me look after your poor wings while it dries?

[ It would be a while before his hair dried out, especially since Crowley had no desire to ever so much as lay hands on a blow-drier, and some of those out-of-place feathers had looked very irritating, if not outright painful. ]

[Aziraphale smiles innocently when Crowley squirms around to face him, wrapping his arms easily about Crowley's middle, but making sure not to threaten another tickle. Crowley might retaliate with a little tickling of his own, and then there'd be water everywhere. Best to save that sort of horseplay for the bedroom.

He leans in and nuzzles his nose against Crowley's while considering the offer.]

Mmm, if that's what you'd like, dear.

[He's aware of Crowley's reaction and is half-hard himself, flattered over the fact that Crowley is nearly constantly aroused by his mere presence. But he knows that Crowley will tell him that there's no rush, no need to act upon it immediately. And now that he's had a sampling of his wings being groomed by Crowley's deft hands, the thought of having every feather back in place sounds irresistible.]

Let's be off, shall we?

[ It's pleasant now that the desperate urgency to try to make up for six thousand years of not constantly trying to breath each other's air has gone from a roiling boil to a light simmer and they could focus on other aspects of being intimate. Such as broaching the topic of living together.

Which means Crowley would have to bring up The Cottage and what to do with it sooner or later. ]

I would. I would very much like. How about you?

[ He reluctantly parts from Aziraphale, getting out the tub and offering the angel a hand up and a fluffy towel. Their bathrobes seem to have miraculously manifested, folded neatly over the back of the chair. ]

[Aziraphale is better at using his words these days, as opposed to leaving Crowley guessing at his true desires. But it's an old habit to break, especially as he doesn't want to be a selfish partner. He cups Crowley's face with his wet hands, looking into his eyes to make sure that he isn't taking advantage of his demon's generosity.]

Yes, I would like that, too. But the moment you're done, it's back to your hair... and anything else of yours that needs attention.

[He smiles coyly, then lets Crowley assist him out of the tub. He dries himself off and then slips into his bathrobe, as white and fluffy as his towels. He holds out the other robe for Crowley to slip into once he's done drying himself and leads him out of the bathroom.]

The bed's probably best, yes? It'll give you the most space to work with.

Oh I can think of a few things.

[ Crowley glances down at the angel's half-hard state and gives a saucy wink, never able to resist an opportunity to pamper or be pampered by Aziraphale. slinging on his own robe. It's red and shiny and so short it can barely be considered a robe. He certainly doesn't bother closing it, instead wrapping his hair up in the towel. ]

Bed's good. Best even. Just -

[ He snaps his finger, a sizable wedge-shaped pillow appearing on their bed, the kind perfect for sprawling face down on for getting a good massage. Or in this case, a good wing grooming. ]

[Aziraphale blushes, as if on cue, a muttered good lord when Crowley puts on that slip of a fabric he insists on calling a robe. It's all for show, of course, he can't stop looking at him and needs to be gently herded into the bedroom, distracted as he is by the sight.

The wedge is an interesting addition to all the other pillows on the bed, but he susses out its purpose easily enough.]

Brilliant idea, dear.

[He kisses Crowley on the cheek in thanks, then slides off his robe and lies face down on the bed, wedge propping himself up comfortably. It's not strictly necessary to disrobe as he can manifest his wings through fabric, but he wants to get the full experience. So to speak.

He waits for Crowley to sit down before letting out his wings, not wanting to knock him over in the process. He extends them in a good stretch before shaking out the feathers and letting them rest limply on the bed.]

Ready when you are.

[ Crowley is all too happy to lead Aziraphale along, arm around his waist and help him get comfortably settled.

When the angel shucks off the fluffy robe, it earns him a wold-whistle. When his wings come out, there is a soft gasp. Crowley admires them for a time, gliding his fingers gently over the feathers. ]

I don't think I'll ever get tired of seeing these. ...Or this.

[ Crowley settles comfortably alongside Aziraphale, trailing a few achingly tender kisses along his back before sinking his teeth into one plush and perfect cheek. He grins, sitting up again to turn his attention back to Aziraphale's wings, going along with his business with an air of exaggerated professionalism, carefully folding the first joint in Aziraphale's wing to test for any stiffness. ]

[Crowley gets to see just how far Aziraphale's blush goes when he's wolf-whistled, but he keeps any protests to himself as he wiggles a little space for himself into the mattress. Crowley's simple touches to his wings are enough to spark that coming in from the cold feeling he had felt earlier, and he sighs blissfully, relaxing against the foam wedge and the bedsheets.

At least until Crowley bites him, right on the rear! He yelps and swats at him playfully with a wing, careful not to actually knock him off the bed.]

Naughty! That's nowhere near my wings.

[He stifles a laugh and settles back down, letting Crowley get to work. He's only a little stiff, barely noticeable and already relaxing in Crowley's capable hands.]

Mmm, that's lovely.

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