[ Crowley gives a muzzy laugh, somehow both wrung out and yet dizzyingly energized, and craning his head to either lean into Aziraphale's touch or get him to pull harder.
It's only been a century and a half, maybe two (hardly any time at all for immortal beings who could exist outside such things), since Aziraphale had called Crowley his dear, but the first time had set the demons head nearly spinning off his bony shoulders. Every subsequent time had done little to desensitize Crowley - he had never expected to be anyone's dear, let alone their dearest, even Aziraphale's (however much he wanted to be). It's left his ridiculous human heart raw and aching from the joy of it, and it's a balm for old, soul-deep wounds he could never quite get to stop festering.
Every day he thinks he cannot possibly love Aziraphale more, and every day he finds himself eating his words. This wonderful, clever, contrarian, and absolutely brilliant angel, with his keen eye for loopholes and the best desserts.
Crowley can't stop smiling, and he kisses Aziraphale again. ]
Definitely something else. Out of this world. Absolutely wild.
[Aziraphale accommodates without thinking, alternatively tugging on his hair and rubbing it soothingly at the roots. They're spent and sticky, but he keeps Crowley close anyway, the soft swell of his stomach fitting perfectly against Crowley's hollow belly, still a little light-headed in his post-coital bliss.
It felt only natural to call Crowley 'dear'. The safest term of endearment when they could never be sure who was eavesdropping. He's bummed that he missed out on 'chuckaboo', that was one of his favorites. Maybe he'll take it out for a spin one day, but he has a few others to get through first.]
I love you, too, darling. My treasure. Closest to my heart.
[He punctuates his words with a kiss in return. He'll never tire of those, either.]
[ Crowley has to marvel at how well they fit together - it wouldn't be entirely absurd to think they may even have been made for each other, though he'd rather not think about it like that. But he can't deny how right it feels, snuggled up to Aziraphale, sticky and exhausted and finally having reached some kind of peace.
Each kiss, each word, leaves his throat tighter, and his mouth straining as he holds back tears, until he finally exhales, and pulls Aziraphale impossibly closer in a tight hug. ]
Angelll -
[ Crowley whines mightily up against Aziraphale's throat. It's barely even a token protest. ]
[Crowley would probably balk at the idea, but Aziraphale can't help but feel grateful to the Almighty for letting them have this, after everything they'd been through together. Was it all part of Her plan? Best not to speculate. That plan is, as he's so fond of saying, ineffable.
He can feel the tension in Crowley's frame, the trembling release of it as he holds the angel even closer. Aziraphale runs soothing hands down his back, feeling a bit choked up himself.]
Shh... we can't have that. I'm quite fond of your corporation. But I don't think I can stop myself from telling you how much I love you ever again, so you'll just have to deal with it.
[ Crowley will speculate. Crowley will always speculate and ask and let his thoughts turn him in knots. But right now his mind is fixed on Aziraphale. He makes a choked sound, something between a sob and a laugh. ]
Oh I think I can manage then. Getting a bit untenable, wasn't it?
[ He mouths a few kisses against the warm slope of Aziraphale's throat. ]
Not getting to tell you how much I adore you, I mean.
[ No sweeter a benediction has there ever been than Aziraphale's lips. Crowley closes his eyes, releasing a deep breath. ]
Not exactly how I imagined it either. I mean, not at first. Did a lot of imagining about the other stuff though and you really blew it right out the water. Couldn't -
[ He stops mid-ramble, something in his brain clicking. He peers up at Aziraphale, caught somewhere between amused and suspicious. ]
Hang on, I thought you said you couldn't remember anything from last night...?
[Aziraphale opens and shuts his mouth once, caught off-guard by the question.]
I told you, I didn't remember much, and what I do remember is more like an impressionist painting than a photograph. But you were very, mmm...
[He blushes, thinking about the seductive way Crowley had bent over, the elastic band of his pants visible, ready for signing. If not for Crowley's warm body in his arms, he'd probably bring both hands up to cover his face in embarrassment.]
You've been flirting with me this entire time, haven't you?
[ Crowley's jaw nearly hits his chest. He doesn't just gape, he goggles. He's not sure if his mind has actually shut down or if there is such a rapid tirade of words trying to spill out that every thought is like a bit of white noise.
Of course I've been flirting with you, he thinks wildly. I've been in love with you for six thousand years and have known it for at least four thousand, I have been flirting shamelessly with you since you told me you gave your sword away - ]
That obvious, was I?
[ His voice is a hoarse croak, his tongue feels too big for his mouth, and his heart too big for his body. ]
[His eyes open again the moment he feels Crowley's warm hands on his cheeks. There's a subtle shift in his expression, the same look on his face when the demon offered his flat to stay in after Armageddon.]
I never not wanted to be with you, Crowley. No matter how hard I pushed you away at times.
[He curls up in Crowley's arms, feeling small, but secure. Their history is rife with ups and downs, but somehow all the stronger for it. Nevertheless, he makes a vow never to take any of it for granted.]
I suppose it says something about us that one sober, heartfelt conversation was finally all it took to end up here.
[ Crowley recognizes that expression, the one Aziraphale gets whenever he's realized something important or Crowley's been on his best behaviour.
Crowley wonders how it's possible to have fallen in love with someone and still be falling. ]
Oh, over the centuries I'd say we've managed one or two heartfelt conversations that were... well - maybe not sober, but were in that vicinity.
[ He smiles that crooked smile. It's one of his genuine ones, the kind where he's too busy gazing lovingly at the angel to bother trying to be dashing and debonair. It's for Aziraphale's eyes only. ]
[That tender look on Aziraphale's face remains, his eyes full of more love than can possibly be contained in a mere corporation. He reaches up to trace Crowley's soft, genuine smile before leaning in and memorizing it on his lips.]
Thank you for giving me that time, dear. I won't waste another moment of it.
[He tucks in a little closer, then grimaces at the stickiness between them. Right, no one had taken care of that... a minor miracle and they're both clean.]
[ His manipulation of time was a lingering, vestigial talent from long, long ago. A little cheat he could still pull off even diminished as he is.
He gives Aziraphale a grateful kiss and a murmured thanks when he cleans them up. Much as he'd like to luxuriate in their slippery and sticky mess, semen (or whatever facsimile they produced) all dried up was profoundly lacking in eroticism. ]
You look very comfortable, sweetheart. Feel like trying for a nap?
[Aziraphale doesn't mind a little mess, but if they're going to be lying here for a while, he'd rather not have their skin get all tacky. He settles against Crowley with a content sigh.]
I am very comfortable.
[The most comfortable he's been since... well, ever. He glances at Crowley sidelong, considering his suggestion.]
I've never taken a nap before...
[Although if there ever was a time for it, it would be now. Physically sated and emotionally wrung out, but in a good way. It's a lot of work to tear down so many emotional barriers. He pets Crowley's hair, then slides a hand down his lithe frame.]
I'll give it a try, my dear. And even if I don't fall asleep, I'll stay here with you as long as you'd like.
[ Crowley's expression goes very peculiar. He looks quite happy, but, as always, there's that tinge of melancholy. ]
You know, I dreamed about waking up next to you a couple times. Sun streaming in and you looking all radiant in some flannel pyjamas and a fluffy dressing gown.
[ He strokes along Aziraphale's cheek, ever so fondly. ]
You'd be cooing at a spider plant, spoiling it and giving it ideas above it's station, and I'd go and make us breakfast, and then we'd hunker down in bed, eating toast and getting crumbs everywhere.
[ It feels good to say it, to finally be completely honest about his feelings for Aziraphale, to tell the angel exactly what he's always wanted, and hoping Aziraphale will be on the same page as him on this as well. ]
That - can we have that too? Is that something you'd like?
[There's a flicker of concern on the angel's face when he spots that lingering melancholy, but it quickly melts away, replaced with soft wonder as Crowley confesses to the most domestic of fantasies. It's the kind of love that's forgotten among the confessions and grand gestures, and he finds that his heart aches over the want of it. Not only for himself, but for the chance to give it to Crowley in return.]
I can't think of anything I would like more. Every morning, if that suits you.
[He nuzzles Crowley's cheek, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. When he pulls back, there is an amused twinkle in his eyes.]
But I'd like to skip the pajamas, if that's all right. At least this first time around.
[ Crowley lights up. Really brilliant this whole love thing. He could just say whatever he'd been feeling for ages, only to find Aziraphale really had wanted the same things all along.
Propping himself up, he trails his knuckles up and down Aziraphale's side, that ridiculous grin still on his face. ]
Right. Every day then. Pyjamas optional.
[ He suspected they were probably weren't going to be wearing much in in the weeks to come. ]
Toast optional as well. I suspect you'd like to mix it up a bit. Eggs, bacon, pastries, sausage. Could never get behind sausage m'self; too many mysteries in the meat.
[Aziraphale smiles up at him, content to remain nestled in their pile of pillows, one hand drawing lazy shapes across his narrow chest.]
Sounds lovely.
[There's no café in London that could possibly top breakfast in bed with Crowley. A convenient miracle can take care of any crumbs. Speaking of which, a rather thoughtful expression appears on the angel's face as Crowley lists their options.]
You know what would be a nice treat? Pancakes. The fluffy kind that the Americans like. I haven't had any since we worked for the Dowlings.
[ Loving Aziraphale comes naturally, it seems. Even though one might think this should have changed everything, Crowley is realizing that this was just an extension of a long dance they'd been doing for centuries. Another gradual change, another new step, but still to the same beat.
The world hasn't turned upside down, but rather, it feels like they finally have their feet on solid ground. ]
You know, we could test little Warlock's assessment that I make 'the best pancakes in the whole wide world'. The boy might have been on to something. Or he was just trying to butter me up so I'd buy him those really violent video games his mother didn't want him playing.
[This is the kind of love that Aziraphale thought he'd never get to have, the kind that's expressed in kisses and cuddles and plans for breakfast. The kind that doesn't have to hide out of sight and bury itself under subtle glances and heavy sighs.
He laughs a little at Crowley's anecdote.]
We're lucky he wasn't really the anti-christ, you know, he would have sold us all up the river for video games. But I'm more than willing to be your guinea pig. I'll bet they're scrumptious.
[Aziraphale tucks his head against Crowley's shoulder, preferring that to the pillows.]
Oh, I'm sure I'll manage. So long as you don't make me that artificially-colored macaroni and cheese from a box.
[He shudders at the memory of all those blue and yellow boxes stacked up in the Dowling's pantry before tilting his head just enough to kiss Crowley's chin.]
Now, then. Best you rest up now, you have an angel to feed in the morning.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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It's only been a century and a half, maybe two (hardly any time at all for immortal beings who could exist outside such things), since Aziraphale had called Crowley his dear, but the first time had set the demons head nearly spinning off his bony shoulders. Every subsequent time had done little to desensitize Crowley - he had never expected to be anyone's dear, let alone their dearest, even Aziraphale's (however much he wanted to be). It's left his ridiculous human heart raw and aching from the joy of it, and it's a balm for old, soul-deep wounds he could never quite get to stop festering.
Every day he thinks he cannot possibly love Aziraphale more, and every day he finds himself eating his words. This wonderful, clever, contrarian, and absolutely brilliant angel, with his keen eye for loopholes and the best desserts.
Crowley can't stop smiling, and he kisses Aziraphale again. ]
Definitely something else. Out of this world. Absolutely wild.
[ Another kiss, slower, softer this time. ]
I really do love you, angel.
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It felt only natural to call Crowley 'dear'. The safest term of endearment when they could never be sure who was eavesdropping. He's bummed that he missed out on 'chuckaboo', that was one of his favorites. Maybe he'll take it out for a spin one day, but he has a few others to get through first.]
I love you, too, darling. My treasure. Closest to my heart.
[He punctuates his words with a kiss in return. He'll never tire of those, either.]
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Each kiss, each word, leaves his throat tighter, and his mouth straining as he holds back tears, until he finally exhales, and pulls Aziraphale impossibly closer in a tight hug. ]
Angelll -
[ Crowley whines mightily up against Aziraphale's throat. It's barely even a token protest. ]
-gonna discorporate me.
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He can feel the tension in Crowley's frame, the trembling release of it as he holds the angel even closer. Aziraphale runs soothing hands down his back, feeling a bit choked up himself.]
Shh... we can't have that. I'm quite fond of your corporation. But I don't think I can stop myself from telling you how much I love you ever again, so you'll just have to deal with it.
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Oh I think I can manage then. Getting a bit untenable, wasn't it?
[ He mouths a few kisses against the warm slope of Aziraphale's throat. ]
Not getting to tell you how much I adore you, I mean.
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Considering how you had me sign your underwear, yes, I think the situation was becoming untenable for the both of us.
[He turns his head, soft kisses placed on Crowley's forehead. A personal blessing.]
It's not the way I thought it would happen, but I wouldn't change a moment of it.
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Not exactly how I imagined it either. I mean, not at first. Did a lot of imagining about the other stuff though and you really blew it right out the water. Couldn't -
[ He stops mid-ramble, something in his brain clicking. He peers up at Aziraphale, caught somewhere between amused and suspicious. ]
Hang on, I thought you said you couldn't remember anything from last night...?
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I told you, I didn't remember much, and what I do remember is more like an impressionist painting than a photograph. But you were very, mmm...
[He blushes, thinking about the seductive way Crowley had bent over, the elastic band of his pants visible, ready for signing. If not for Crowley's warm body in his arms, he'd probably bring both hands up to cover his face in embarrassment.]
You've been flirting with me this entire time, haven't you?
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Of course I've been flirting with you, he thinks wildly. I've been in love with you for six thousand years and have known it for at least four thousand, I have been flirting shamelessly with you since you told me you gave your sword away - ]
That obvious, was I?
[ His voice is a hoarse croak, his tongue feels too big for his mouth, and his heart too big for his body. ]
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It's probably more accurate to say that I was just that oblivious.
[His voice comes out timid and tremulous, and when he finally brings himself to look at Crowley, there are tears in his eyes.]
If I... if I dared to let myself think you wanted me... the thought of being wrong and ruining our friendship...
[He shuts his eyes and sighs.]
I'm sorry. I should have noticed sooner.
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I know, angel. You don't have to apologize. Not for needing time or space or any of it. I'm the one who shouldn't have pushed so hard.
[ He presses a gentle kiss to Aziraphale's nose. ]
Anyway, it'd take a lot for me to ever stop thinking of you as my best friend. That was never in jeopardy from you.
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I never not wanted to be with you, Crowley. No matter how hard I pushed you away at times.
[He curls up in Crowley's arms, feeling small, but secure. Their history is rife with ups and downs, but somehow all the stronger for it. Nevertheless, he makes a vow never to take any of it for granted.]
I suppose it says something about us that one sober, heartfelt conversation was finally all it took to end up here.
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Crowley wonders how it's possible to have fallen in love with someone and still be falling. ]
Oh, over the centuries I'd say we've managed one or two heartfelt conversations that were... well - maybe not sober, but were in that vicinity.
[ He smiles that crooked smile. It's one of his genuine ones, the kind where he's too busy gazing lovingly at the angel to bother trying to be dashing and debonair. It's for Aziraphale's eyes only. ]
We just needed time, that's all.
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Thank you for giving me that time, dear. I won't waste another moment of it.
[He tucks in a little closer, then grimaces at the stickiness between them. Right, no one had taken care of that... a minor miracle and they're both clean.]
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[ His manipulation of time was a lingering, vestigial talent from long, long ago. A little cheat he could still pull off even diminished as he is.
He gives Aziraphale a grateful kiss and a murmured thanks when he cleans them up. Much as he'd like to luxuriate in their slippery and sticky mess, semen (or whatever facsimile they produced) all dried up was profoundly lacking in eroticism. ]
You look very comfortable, sweetheart. Feel like trying for a nap?
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I am very comfortable.
[The most comfortable he's been since... well, ever. He glances at Crowley sidelong, considering his suggestion.]
I've never taken a nap before...
[Although if there ever was a time for it, it would be now. Physically sated and emotionally wrung out, but in a good way. It's a lot of work to tear down so many emotional barriers. He pets Crowley's hair, then slides a hand down his lithe frame.]
I'll give it a try, my dear. And even if I don't fall asleep, I'll stay here with you as long as you'd like.
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You know, I dreamed about waking up next to you a couple times. Sun streaming in and you looking all radiant in some flannel pyjamas and a fluffy dressing gown.
[ He strokes along Aziraphale's cheek, ever so fondly. ]
You'd be cooing at a spider plant, spoiling it and giving it ideas above it's station, and I'd go and make us breakfast, and then we'd hunker down in bed, eating toast and getting crumbs everywhere.
[ It feels good to say it, to finally be completely honest about his feelings for Aziraphale, to tell the angel exactly what he's always wanted, and hoping Aziraphale will be on the same page as him on this as well. ]
That - can we have that too? Is that something you'd like?
[ His very own domestic demon? ]
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I can't think of anything I would like more. Every morning, if that suits you.
[He nuzzles Crowley's cheek, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. When he pulls back, there is an amused twinkle in his eyes.]
But I'd like to skip the pajamas, if that's all right. At least this first time around.
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Propping himself up, he trails his knuckles up and down Aziraphale's side, that ridiculous grin still on his face. ]
Right. Every day then. Pyjamas optional.
[ He suspected they were probably weren't going to be wearing much in in the weeks to come. ]
Toast optional as well. I suspect you'd like to mix it up a bit. Eggs, bacon, pastries, sausage. Could never get behind sausage m'self; too many mysteries in the meat.
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Sounds lovely.
[There's no café in London that could possibly top breakfast in bed with Crowley. A convenient miracle can take care of any crumbs. Speaking of which, a rather thoughtful expression appears on the angel's face as Crowley lists their options.]
You know what would be a nice treat? Pancakes. The fluffy kind that the Americans like. I haven't had any since we worked for the Dowlings.
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The world hasn't turned upside down, but rather, it feels like they finally have their feet on solid ground. ]
You know, we could test little Warlock's assessment that I make 'the best pancakes in the whole wide world'. The boy might have been on to something. Or he was just trying to butter me up so I'd buy him those really violent video games his mother didn't want him playing.
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He laughs a little at Crowley's anecdote.]
We're lucky he wasn't really the anti-christ, you know, he would have sold us all up the river for video games. But I'm more than willing to be your guinea pig. I'll bet they're scrumptious.
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[ He grins, settling back down so he can wrap Aziraphale up snug in his arms. ]
It might be a bit much for your refined tastes.
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Oh, I'm sure I'll manage. So long as you don't make me that artificially-colored macaroni and cheese from a box.
[He shudders at the memory of all those blue and yellow boxes stacked up in the Dowling's pantry before tilting his head just enough to kiss Crowley's chin.]
Now, then. Best you rest up now, you have an angel to feed in the morning.
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[ He says in that innocent way of his that suggests he is absolutely scheming the best way to get Aziraphale to eat a boxed abomination to cuisine.
Settling in, Crowley snuggles close, draping an arm and leg over Aziraphale. ]
Wake me when you get a bit peckish then, love. Or any other appetites I might be able to sate. You know me, pedal to the metal, always ready to go.
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