inlovewithmycar | open post

[ There's always room in his arms for Aziraphale, even if he needs a small miracle to make it happen (And he'd love to see the expression on Beelzebub's face when they get dinged for that one. Move groceries aside to hug angel. It warms his little heart to think they're seething).

Pressing a number of kisses to any part of Aziraphale's face he can reach, he nudges the bottle of wine and the box of cake front and center. ]

How were the customers today? Try to wrangle any books from you?

Oh, yes, so many of them. It's like they can't keep their grubby hands away from my books! Some of them brought children!

[ He's so distraught about this. ]

This is all very lovely Crowley, you really didn't need to.

But I appreciate it, nonetheless.

[ Crowley laughs. He's found he's been doing a lot of that lately. ]

Children! Satan forbid!

[ Crowley likes kids. Broadly speaking, at least - he isn't about to go out and adopt a whole orphanage or anything. But they're little engines of chaos equipped with sticky fingers and zero brain-to mouth filters. He can relate.

He pecks a kiss to Aziraphale's forehead. ]

Good thing I stopped at the shop - you sound like you could use a good pampering.

Well, it's not that I mind children, but these ones were running about the shop and trying to find the picture books!

[ He looks so disturbed by this. Anyway, he does need a little pampering, and he settles his arms around Crowley and sighs in relief. This is the best part of his day. ]

Shall I get glasses? For the wine.

Odd thing to have with chips and salsa, but--

--Oh, thank you. For bringing all this. For me.

[ He offers Crowley a quick peck on the lips. ]

But it was really unnecessary, you know I'd be just as happy if you came here empty handed, as long as you visit.

Nothing pairs better with junk food than superb wine.

[ Crowley miracles the bags into the upstairs flat's kitchen where anything perishable will stay cool and fresh if it knows what's good for it. He then rests his hands on Aziraphale's waist, gently swaying the angel back and forth in a sort of slow dance as he deepens the kiss. ]

Never going to miss an opportunity to spoil you again.

[ He grins and kisses the tip of Aziraphale's nose. ]

Should I stay in tomorrow? Frighten away the masses? Terrorize the tourists?

[ He's happy to know that "miracled groceries upstairs into an angel's flat" will show up on the registry. ]

Yes, please. Stay as long as you wish, especially if it keeps the customers in line.

[ Music starts playing in the background, which gives Aziraphale the opportunity to take Crowley's hands and lead into another dance. However, it is a lot more swaying, since, well. No room for a proper dance. ]

[ Irritating his former boss while getting to do small, sweet things for Aziraphale was one of the many things Crowley likes about this new turn their relationship has taking. And the kissing. He loves the kissing. ]

Ooh, careful, love. Inviting a demon into your life like that? You'll never be rid of me.

[ Their swaying, shuffling little dance only occasionally moves in time to the music, and even then it's only by chance. And Crowley wouldn't trade it for any highly choreographed number in the world. He gives Aziraphale's hand a squeeze, following him in little circles around the shop, and mindful not to knock over any stacks of books. He'd never been careless about Aziraphale's things, but after the fire he'd practically handled even the modern books with an exceedingly delicate touch. ]

You'll find me lazing about all over the place. Drinking your cocoa. Wearing your cardigans. Dreadful thing to think, to be sure.

[ He did already invite a demon into his life, and as far as he knows, he hasn't left yet. ]

I'm not sure it would be so dreadful.

[ He twirls Crowley in his arms, and after he does, Crowley's miraculously in a cardigan that's several sizes too big for him, better suited to a fussy bookseller, and smells like a very familiar cologne.

The impression it gives takes Aziraphale's breath away, since the sleeves hang off Crowley's hands, going past his wrists. He looks swallowed by the jumper, so cozy and thin under it, as if enveloped by a hug. ]

Dear...

[ Crowley blinks and suddenly he's even more enveloped in Aziraphale's scent and warmth. Only when he looks down does he realize what just happened.

He can feel his face doing that thing, where it goes all soft and smiling. It's been doing that a lot more frequently these days and he's starting to suspect it might be Aziraphale's doing. ]

S'cozy. Always loved this one.

[ He pulls Aziraphale back close to him, nosing into his hair. ]

Every time I saw you in it, you always looked extra soft.

I can tell you that you are extra soft.

[ He nuzzles into Crowley's shoulder, by the soft fabric. Aziraphale gives him a good long squeeze and sways with him. ]

And it does look very good on you.

[ He musses Crowley's hair up a bit. ]

Casual.

Only for you, angel.

[ A snap of his fingers and a scarf - practically a shawl - appears, wrapped loosely around Aziraphale's neck and shoulders. It's one of the few real garments Crowley owns, and it's one of his favourites. It's black as night, with flecks of red, and the softest pashmina. It's light, sheer and yet warm.

Crowley adjusts it, so that it drapes elegantly over Aziraphale's shoulders. ]

I think this is the first time we've miracled clothes on one another. Mind you, I'm not complaining.

No, I'm not either. This is lovely. Where'd you get this?

[ He hugs it tighter around himself, and then lifts part of it to his nose and takes a deep breath. Ah, yes, there's just the lightest hint of a spicy, creamy burning wood. It's intoxicating.

He follows his nose to Crowley's neck, by his pulse, mouth precariously close to his throat. ]

[ Crowley beams, carding his fingers through the mess of soft curls. They're at the point where they're wearing each other's clothes. That didn't take long at all. No complaints on Crowley's end at all. ]

Don't even remember. Some gift shop, I think? Hmmrgh - that feels good, angel.

[ Slotted together like this, drifting together through the warmth and safety of the shop with the music in the background - Aziraphale's nose tickling against his throat - Crowley's eyes flutter close. ]

Might just have to whisk you away. Ensnare you with my devilish wiles.

[ As if Crowley doesn't already know that Aziraphale is ensnared by him. He tangles his hands in Crowley's hair and pulls him down for a lingering kiss, drinks him in like his favorite wine.

And then he ends it, clearing his throat and motioning away. ]

Shall we... the cake?

[ He starts to move upstairs, hand on Crowley's chest as he moves. ]

You - !

[ Crowley spins on his heel after Aziraphale, following him up the stairs. The light touch to his chest may as well be a vice for how obediently Crowley follows. ]

I should have learned by now I can never distract you long from cake. Go get yourself nice and comfortable, angel, I'll bring you your goodies and help you unwind.

Oh. And what of your aubergine, dear? You seemed to express some interest in that and some donuts.

I admit, rather an odd combination, but perhaps it goes well with the chips.

[ He'll keep an open mind as he takes the cake out. It's almost too pretty to cut up and eat. But... not quite, and Aziraphale helps himself to a slice. He offers one to Crowley. ]

Just a little one for me, love. It'll be at least another week before I binge.

[ Crowley had put his odd metabolism down to just being one of his snakelike qualities, like his eyes and tongue. For a couple of days every handful of months, he'd be insatiable; snacking constantly, and eating full meals. And then he'd become lethargic, nap for a day or two and wake up feeling refreshed.

He's fishing out the wine when Aziraphale brings up the aubergine. And then bursts out laughing. ]

It - Aziraphale - it's - I wasn't actually talking about an actual aubergine. I was being cheeky. It's innuendo.

[ Aziraphale is more than familiar with Crowley's eating habits and napping habits, so he makes a very small slice for him and wonders what he's going to binge on this time. His appetite and cravings are... sometimes odd, to Aziraphale, but he never questions it, really.

He doesn't think the aubergine is that odd, but-- ]

Innuendo? For what?

[ He can't imagine what a gigantic purple vegetable is supposed to represent. Perhaps it refers to its cousin, the white eggplant, which resembles an egg, and does quite look like... a nice round shape, he supposes. ]

[ Crowley is still chuckling as he takes the offered plate. ]

Years of being friends with Wilde, the master of double and triple entendres, and yet the significance of the aubergine eludes you. Mmm, to tell or not to tell - ?

[ Crowley rests his chin on Aziraphale's shoulder, pressing a light kiss to the skin over his collar. ]

Yes, well, I often expected those from Oscar.

[ He stands in mock offense that Crowley would question Aziraphale's ability to understand such visual play on words, particularly since he was very good at hieroglyphics. ]

Will you just be out with it? What is the aubergine? And where are your donuts?

And not me? I'm wounded!

[ Crowley flings himself from Aziraphale to drape over the countertop and languish. The theatrics, of course, stop almost as soon as they start, because Crowley is always eager to explain things. Humanity's first teacher indeed. ]

It's meant to be an erection. The little leaves at the top look like the crown, and the bulbous base, a lovely set of purple balls.

Edited (1am and my brain can't grammar) 2020-03-30 05:11 (UTC)

[ He's about to peel Crowley off the countertop but then-- ]

I... suppose.

[ He pulls out the phone and re-reads the message. ]

...So... you want to--

[ He gestures vaguely ]

--While I eat a--

--[ GASP! ]

Crowley! My goodness!

[ He goes to nervously adjust glasses that aren't on his face and turns bright glowing red. ]

[ Crowley looks puzzled because, quite frankly, what he'd texted was nothing they hadn't already done to each other before, in varying positions, and on most available flat surfaces in the shop (including the ceiling). And they had certainly laughed and joked about it in far more open terms than emojis.

Which meant there was a miscommunication. Not the kind that led to Aziraphale thinking Crowley was resorting to desperate measures and then the demon taking an overlong nap about it. This was a fun miscommunication, and Crowley slithers back on over to the angel, grinning devilishly. ]

Ohh yessss, angel.

[ And he draws out the hiss, snaking his long arms around Aziraphale's shoulders. ]

Whatever you're imagining, that's definitely it.

[ He'd love to know what's so scandalous to Aziraphale; a hedonist among hedonists who got up to who-knows-what in his Discreet Gentleman's Club. ]

[ He relaxes a little, though he's bright red still. And even though he doesn't bat an eye whenever discussing sex acts in a general sense, he does when they pertain to him. Imagining himself and Crowley engaging in such acts is a much less clinical, much more personal thing.

Aziraphale takes a long gulp as he tries to quell his imagination from running away, though his hand trembles as he fruitlessly offers Crowley some cake. ]

Naughty boy.

[ He starts, smiling, exasperated. ]

I admit, I do miss the fashion of... more descriptive erotic letters.

Certainly wouldn't have sent you to the grocery if I knew your intentions.

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