[Aziraphale tries to look put out by the teasing, but fails spectacularly when Crowley brushes at his hair and places a gentle kiss on his forehead. He sighs, eyes fluttering shut, the picture of absolute contentment.]
You won't hear a single complaint from me, darling.
[He knows they'll likely never see eye-to-eye on God and Her motives, and that's all right. God's plan is ineffable. Crowley is very much real and knowable, and he's very happy to have him cuddled up in his arms.
Only one thing could make this moment even better...]
Although, if you're taking suggestions, perhaps we can have the ravioli now?
[ Crowley let's out a rumble of laughter, rolling off Aziraphale and curling up at his side instead. ]
Well, I did put you through your paces. Suppose a snack is in order.
[ With a wave of his hand, the pumpkin ravioli and the tiramisu he'd picked up on the way over appear, artfully arranged on plates on a handsome breakfast tray. There's even wine, and a pair of glasses. He presses a few kisses into the soft give of Aziraphale's hip, as if to say 'and this is my snack'. ]
So uh, angel. You know how we were talking about maybe living together earlier...?
[Aziraphale wiggles in delight at the miracle'd display before him. He would have done the same thing, not wanting to leave the bed, but it's thoughtful of Crowley to take care of it instead. Laughter bubbles out of him at Crowley's hip kisses, knowing exactly what his clever demon is implying.]
Sit up with me, dear. You promised you'd give the ravioli a try.
[He pours them both a glass of wine, then looks at Crowley.]
Yes, I remember. Did you want to work out the logistics while we eat?
[ Crowley sucks a mark onto Aziraphale's hip, as if to say he'll be back there later, and slithers up to join Aziraphale, chin rested lazily on his shoulder. Crowley doesn't dislike food - quite the opposite in fact, but large meals tend to leave him feeling lethargic, so he tends to just sample a morsel or two from whatever Aziraphale picks out. ]
And, uh -
[ Crowley shifts nervously. ]
- I mean, if you wanted to get out the city, I've got a place in Sussex. Used it as storage mostly, but. S'nice. Needs some work, probably, haven't done any upkeep on it since we went to work for the Dowlings, but... yeah.
[That earns a squeak from the angel, although really he should expect by now that Crowley will take any opportunity to kiss or mark him, especially if there's a pun involved.
With the edge of his fork, he cuts one of the raviolis in half, revealing its creamy, orange center. The ravioli is in a light brown butter and sage sauce, and he makes sure there are a few flecks of the herb on the bite he brings up to Crowley's mouth, balanced carefully on the tines of the fork.]
Just a nibble. As requested.
[Once Crowley has taken his bite, Aziraphale will eat the other half with his usual amount of gusto. Delicious, as always. He sighs happily at the balance of sweet and savory flavors before looking at Crowley again in surprise.]
You have a place in Sussex?
[And for storage? What has Crowley been keeping there? Is that why his flat in Mayfair is so spartan and bare? He's about to ask until the reason Crowley brought it up in the first place catches up to him. His surprise softens into a tender expression, a hand reaching out to take Crowley's.]
Would you like that? Instead of moving in here, for us to live outside the city and put a home together from scratch?
[ Crowley chews thoughtfully on the offered morsel. It isn't bad, though he's finding he likes the sauce more than the ravioli itself. Still, it's hardly offensive, and surprisingly better than he thought it would be so it gets the 'mm' of approval and the press of a tender kiss to the back of Aziraphale's neck. ]
Dunno - but it's an option, if that sort of thing appeals. You should see it at least - I'd like to get your opinion before I do anything with the place.
[ He manages to keep his tone vague and noncommittal as he doesn't want Aziraphale to feel pressured into a whole new lifestyle. But the way the angel says it, build a home together, makes something old and and broken in him ache. He's never been able to call a place home; even his brief stint as an angel he hadn't been in Heaven much. The closest thing to feeling like somewhere he belonged was just Aziraphale.
But something they build together... Warm summer evenings in the garden, cold winter nights curled up together by the fire in the study, mornings in the kitchen making breakfast together... ]
[That little sound of approval is enough for Aziraphale, the corners of his mouth turning up into a pleased smile. Not that he and Crowley can't have differing tastes in food, so long as he acknowledges that the angel knows what's good.
The rest of the ravioli can wait a moment while he gives Crowley his full attention. Crowley is being so careful with his feelings, as always, not wanting to push. He runs his thumb over Crowley's knuckles in reassurance. It's okay to ask. To want. Just as much for Crowley as for Aziraphale.
I would very much like to see it. Especially whatever you've been squirreling away all these years.
[He takes a look around at the bedroom and his own personal horde.]
I can't imagine parting with the bookshop, but... well, the flat above isn't much of a home, is it? Just the little spaces I've carved out for us. It'd be nice to start fresh, with both of our styles in mind.
I wouldn't ever ask you to give up the shop. Ever.
[ He tries to stubbornly wriggle his way down into the sheets, as if to indicate that the mere thought of selling the bookdshop is unfathomable. ]
It's home. Feels like it's been home even before it was built.
[ It's hard to put it into words, the way that, over the centuries, they gradually converged onto this little corner of a soggy island. And he wants. He wants so much, afraid it's too much -and there is nothing Crowley fears more than Aziraphale swallowing his own needs just to appease the demon. ]
...But yeah, I won't pretend building up from scratch doesn't appeal. And, well, it's not like the cottage is on the other side of the world. S'an hour and a half away -
[ Which means forty five minutes by infernal automobile. ]
- and just imagine how erratic your opening hours would become. How many customers you wouldn't have to deal with.
[ Crowley does a mock swoon in a passable attempt at Aziraphale's prim accent. ]
"Oh, I couldn't possibly stay open another minute. I'm only in town for the weekend and my dreadfully dapper partner will be picking me up for our dinner date any moment now!"
[Aziraphale knows that Crowley would never ask him to give up the shop, but it's nice to hear. Even nicer to know that Crowley thinks of it the same way he does, as this little spot of Earth to settle on and putting down roots. Somehow, without ever explicitly agreeing to it, throwing in their lot with humans instead of their superiors.]
Don't sulk, dear, I know you wouldn't.
[He also knows that Crowley is worried about pushing him into agreeing to something he isn't ready for. But after thousands of years of saying 'no', Aziraphale is eager to start answering 'yes'. Enthusiastically, and without second thoughts.
Crowley's imitation makes him laugh so hard he snorts. There's really no need to convince him, he finds himself warming up to the idea rather quickly.]
Let's take a peek at it tomorrow, hmm? We can see what the neighborhood is like, too. There needs to be at least one decent restaurant. I don't want to have to come back to London every time I'm feeling peckish.
[He goes back to his ravioli, as if to demonstrate, humming happily over his second bite and licking the sauce from the tines of his fork. He's certain that Crowley wouldn't want to miss seeing this on a regular basis.]
[ Crowley hums his agreement into Azirphale's neck, watching with unrestrained delight as the angel enjoys his dinner. Thoughts of holding Aziraphale's hand as they stroll down the country lanes check as they investigate the local dining scene, perhaps trying the occasional free sample. ]
I'll pack a hamper, just in case. Whatever else, the area's on the picturesque side of things. Would make for excellent picnicking.
[ His hands fold over the swell of Aziraphale's stomach, squeezing him in a gentle hug. Crowley knows all too well that the path to Aziraphale's heart starts here and while Crowley's eating habits are far more erratic, it is one of the many earthly pleasures they have in common. ]
Oh, what a delightful idea. Can I help you? We can get everything we need at Harrods before we go.
[What a fun bit of domesticity that will be, strolling the food hall, hand in hand, picking out items at each stall and filling their basket. He sighs and leans back into Crowley's embrace, a hand pressed over the ones on his stomach while he finishes the ravioli. He'll offer Crowley another bite here and there without pushing, but when he tries the tiramisu and makes a barely restrained moan at its taste, the next bite is immediately presented to the demon.]
Dear, I insist you try this as well. It's a little coffee cloud of perfection.
[ Crowley couldn't have sounded more delighted if Aziraphale had told him Halloween had come early. ]
Yesss, let's. Maybe grab breakfast to go and have it at the park before we head out?
[ He's well-aware of how good the tiramisu is - it's one of the few things he'll even consider having more than a bite of, and would never be so crass as to get Aziraphale a second rate dessert. But he takes a bite of the proffered forkful and does a rather marvelous job of feigning surprise at it's quality. ]
You can really taste the espresso and yet it doesn't overwhelm. May have to get some next time I'm feeling peckish.
[Aziraphale turns in Crowley's arms just enough to smile at him, wanting to see that delight with his own eyes.]
Sounds like a plan.
[He could have just as easily let Crowley pack a basket on his own, the demon knows his preferences well enough by now, but why pass on a chance to do something together, out in the open?]
I'm glad it meets your standards. I know it's one of your favorites.
[He returns to the tiramisu, giving Crowley another bite or two in between his own. Once they're done, he miracles away the empty plates and silverware, leaving behind just the wine.]
So tell me, how long have you owned this property? And what have you been accumulating there that you didn't have room for in your flat?
Not long after you got your shop. Every couple hundred years, I transfer it to a new place. Just happened to kind of like this one.
[ He's a little more cagey about what he's been keeping stowed away in boxes and crates - he's sure Aziraphale will recognize a significant portion of it - most of the little souvenirs Crowley hoarded greedily were to remind him of happy times, and much of those times involved Aziraphale. ]
You know, things. Of the sentimental variety - most of which I didn't want to explain to other demons Hell sends by. It wasn't often but... they never call ahead of time so. Couldn't have anything on display that didn't have nine layers of plausible deniability attached to it.
[ Crowley didn't live in the mausoleum he calls a flat because he likes the brutal concrete architecture. He lives there because he was trying to cultivate a very particular image. The kind he didn't dare stray from lest someone be on to him. ]
[Aziraphale smiles at the admission of Crowley settling into a property, even if it was just for storage.]
It's easier than lugging things around from place to place, isn't it?
[It's the real reason he opened the bookshop, even if he did have the genuine intention of selling books on occasion. (Just not any of the books he really liked, which was, as it turned out, almost all of them.)
As Crowley cautiously explains, Aziraphale refills their glasses and offers one to him. The expression on the angel's face is deeply sympathetic, knowing exactly what it's like to have one's superiors appear unannounced.]
I understand, dear. I had the cover of my bookshop for such items. Well, that and the fact that Gabriel wouldn't recognize a sentimental object if it was bounced off the back of his head.
[He takes a sip from his own glass, his eyes bright.]
I must admit that I'm very curious about what you consider sentimental.
[ Crowley blows a raspberry in the vague direction of Heaven at the mere mention of Aziraphale's former boss. Is Crowley ever going to let it go that Gabriel seemed nothing but delighted to see what he thought was Aziraphale walk into a painful destruction?
Probably not. ]
Angel, there's a lot of things Gabriel wouldn't recognize if they bounced right off his head.
[ He doesn't dwell on it though. It's the past, and right now, they have a big, bright future to look forward to. Crowley presses a kiss to Aziraphale's shoulder. ]
I wonder if I should just let it all be a surprise? I mean, you've seen the inside of my flat, you can probably guess, but still.
[Aziraphale shrugs a little and takes another sip of wine. He knows that Crowley is still furious with Gabriel on his behalf, which somehow makes it easier for him not to be. Having Crowley as his champion has gone a long way to helping him heal from Heaven's mistreatment.]
Fair enough. My point is, I could keep my treasures out in the open.
[He hums at the shoulder kiss and settles back into Crowley's embrace. All the more reason to build a new home together, so that Crowley can have a space that truly reflects his interests.]
If you'd like to surprise me, I can wait. [A small, teasing smile appears on his face.] You didn't nick something from the Bastille when I wasn't looking, did you?
[ Crowley's tone is deliberately elusive as he kisses up along Aziraphale's neck. Oh, that smile! Crowley likes to think of it as Aziraphale's bastard smile, the kind he gets when there's a little mischief in him. ]
You know how much I love to surprise you, angel, but if you want to keep guessing, be my guest. Perhaps we should make a little game of it...?
[ Crowley's lips have migrated to the vicinity of Aziraphale's earlobe at this point, the demon grinning wide and bright. ]
[Aziraphale squirms appreciatively at those neck kisses, loving the attention that Crowley always seeks to lavish on him. There is indeed a bit of mischief in him, as he sets aside his wine glass so that he can reach back and wrap a finger around Crowley's braid.]
A game? And what are the rules, dear? How many guesses do I get?
[They've played games like this before, ways to pass the time and reminisce over a bottle or three of wine. Aziraphale thinks it's jolly fun, and perhaps an easier path for Crowley to reveal what sort of sentimental treasures he has hidden away. He smiles, gently tugging the braid so that the tip of it tickles his shoulder.]
As many as you like. Guess correctly, and I'll kiss you anywhere you like. Guess wrong and I'll kiss you anywhere I like.
[ Which, as vendiagrams go, was about as close to a circle as one could get. There wasn't a single inch of Aziraphale Crowley didn't love kissing. A game neither of them could feasibly lose.
The demon hums in contentment at that gentle tug on his braid, nuzzling into Aziraphale's curls. ]
[As it happens, there isn't anywhere on his body that he doesn't love Crowley kissing, so it's a win-win no matter how he guesses. Not that he won't take his guesses seriously; he turns a little in Crowley's arms so that he can look at his face for a hint. His response to bringing up the Bastille might be a clue, too.
There's an adorable little pinch between Aziraphale's eyebrows while he thinks.]
Hmmm... did you keep something from lunch after you rescued me?
[Aziraphale smiles briefly at the kiss, then adds a nose scrunch to his look of concentration as he tries to narrow down his guess. Something from lunch... There wasn't much on the little table that they shared...]
There was a little vase of flowers on the table, wasn't there? Was that it?
Mm. Two roses in fact. Red and cream colour. Little miracle kept them alive for a decade before I planted them proper. They've been growing up the sides of the cottage ever since. Persistent buggers for roses.
[ He rests his chin on Aziraphale's shoulder, grinning expectantly as he waits for the angel to tell him where he'd like to be kissed. ]
[Aziraphale has half a moment to enjoy the fact that he guessed correctly before it hits him, exactly what Crowley has done: kept alive two simple roses, letting them grow and flourish into bushes that have blossomed all over the sides of his secret cottage.]
Oh... all this time, they've been growing?
[He turns just enough to look at Crowley with an aching softness, prize forgotten. And here he thought he was the sentimental one.]
Best if you just tell me, dearest. I don't know if my corporation can take another surprise like that.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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You won't hear a single complaint from me, darling.
[He knows they'll likely never see eye-to-eye on God and Her motives, and that's all right. God's plan is ineffable. Crowley is very much real and knowable, and he's very happy to have him cuddled up in his arms.
Only one thing could make this moment even better...]
Although, if you're taking suggestions, perhaps we can have the ravioli now?
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Well, I did put you through your paces. Suppose a snack is in order.
[ With a wave of his hand, the pumpkin ravioli and the tiramisu he'd picked up on the way over appear, artfully arranged on plates on a handsome breakfast tray. There's even wine, and a pair of glasses. He presses a few kisses into the soft give of Aziraphale's hip, as if to say 'and this is my snack'. ]
So uh, angel. You know how we were talking about maybe living together earlier...?
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Sit up with me, dear. You promised you'd give the ravioli a try.
[He pours them both a glass of wine, then looks at Crowley.]
Yes, I remember. Did you want to work out the logistics while we eat?
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[ Crowley sucks a mark onto Aziraphale's hip, as if to say he'll be back there later, and slithers up to join Aziraphale, chin rested lazily on his shoulder. Crowley doesn't dislike food - quite the opposite in fact, but large meals tend to leave him feeling lethargic, so he tends to just sample a morsel or two from whatever Aziraphale picks out. ]
And, uh -
[ Crowley shifts nervously. ]
- I mean, if you wanted to get out the city, I've got a place in Sussex. Used it as storage mostly, but. S'nice. Needs some work, probably, haven't done any upkeep on it since we went to work for the Dowlings, but... yeah.
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With the edge of his fork, he cuts one of the raviolis in half, revealing its creamy, orange center. The ravioli is in a light brown butter and sage sauce, and he makes sure there are a few flecks of the herb on the bite he brings up to Crowley's mouth, balanced carefully on the tines of the fork.]
Just a nibble. As requested.
[Once Crowley has taken his bite, Aziraphale will eat the other half with his usual amount of gusto. Delicious, as always. He sighs happily at the balance of sweet and savory flavors before looking at Crowley again in surprise.]
You have a place in Sussex?
[And for storage? What has Crowley been keeping there? Is that why his flat in Mayfair is so spartan and bare? He's about to ask until the reason Crowley brought it up in the first place catches up to him. His surprise softens into a tender expression, a hand reaching out to take Crowley's.]
Would you like that? Instead of moving in here, for us to live outside the city and put a home together from scratch?
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Dunno - but it's an option, if that sort of thing appeals. You should see it at least - I'd like to get your opinion before I do anything with the place.
[ He manages to keep his tone vague and noncommittal as he doesn't want Aziraphale to feel pressured into a whole new lifestyle. But the way the angel says it, build a home together, makes something old and and broken in him ache. He's never been able to call a place home; even his brief stint as an angel he hadn't been in Heaven much. The closest thing to feeling like somewhere he belonged was just Aziraphale.
But something they build together... Warm summer evenings in the garden, cold winter nights curled up together by the fire in the study, mornings in the kitchen making breakfast together... ]
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The rest of the ravioli can wait a moment while he gives Crowley his full attention. Crowley is being so careful with his feelings, as always, not wanting to push. He runs his thumb over Crowley's knuckles in reassurance. It's okay to ask. To want. Just as much for Crowley as for Aziraphale.
I would very much like to see it. Especially whatever you've been squirreling away all these years.
[He takes a look around at the bedroom and his own personal horde.]
I can't imagine parting with the bookshop, but... well, the flat above isn't much of a home, is it? Just the little spaces I've carved out for us. It'd be nice to start fresh, with both of our styles in mind.
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[ He tries to stubbornly wriggle his way down into the sheets, as if to indicate that the mere thought of selling the bookdshop is unfathomable. ]
It's home. Feels like it's been home even before it was built.
[ It's hard to put it into words, the way that, over the centuries, they gradually converged onto this little corner of a soggy island. And he wants. He wants so much, afraid it's too much -and there is nothing Crowley fears more than Aziraphale swallowing his own needs just to appease the demon. ]
...But yeah, I won't pretend building up from scratch doesn't appeal. And, well, it's not like the cottage is on the other side of the world. S'an hour and a half away -
[ Which means forty five minutes by infernal automobile. ]
- and just imagine how erratic your opening hours would become. How many customers you wouldn't have to deal with.
[ Crowley does a mock swoon in a passable attempt at Aziraphale's prim accent. ]
"Oh, I couldn't possibly stay open another minute. I'm only in town for the weekend and my dreadfully dapper partner will be picking me up for our dinner date any moment now!"
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Don't sulk, dear, I know you wouldn't.
[He also knows that Crowley is worried about pushing him into agreeing to something he isn't ready for. But after thousands of years of saying 'no', Aziraphale is eager to start answering 'yes'. Enthusiastically, and without second thoughts.
Crowley's imitation makes him laugh so hard he snorts. There's really no need to convince him, he finds himself warming up to the idea rather quickly.]
Let's take a peek at it tomorrow, hmm? We can see what the neighborhood is like, too. There needs to be at least one decent restaurant. I don't want to have to come back to London every time I'm feeling peckish.
[He goes back to his ravioli, as if to demonstrate, humming happily over his second bite and licking the sauce from the tines of his fork. He's certain that Crowley wouldn't want to miss seeing this on a regular basis.]
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I'll pack a hamper, just in case. Whatever else, the area's on the picturesque side of things. Would make for excellent picnicking.
[ His hands fold over the swell of Aziraphale's stomach, squeezing him in a gentle hug. Crowley knows all too well that the path to Aziraphale's heart starts here and while Crowley's eating habits are far more erratic, it is one of the many earthly pleasures they have in common. ]
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[What a fun bit of domesticity that will be, strolling the food hall, hand in hand, picking out items at each stall and filling their basket. He sighs and leans back into Crowley's embrace, a hand pressed over the ones on his stomach while he finishes the ravioli. He'll offer Crowley another bite here and there without pushing, but when he tries the tiramisu and makes a barely restrained moan at its taste, the next bite is immediately presented to the demon.]
Dear, I insist you try this as well. It's a little coffee cloud of perfection.
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[ Crowley couldn't have sounded more delighted if Aziraphale had told him Halloween had come early. ]
Yesss, let's. Maybe grab breakfast to go and have it at the park before we head out?
[ He's well-aware of how good the tiramisu is - it's one of the few things he'll even consider having more than a bite of, and would never be so crass as to get Aziraphale a second rate dessert. But he takes a bite of the proffered forkful and does a rather marvelous job of feigning surprise at it's quality. ]
You can really taste the espresso and yet it doesn't overwhelm. May have to get some next time I'm feeling peckish.
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Sounds like a plan.
[He could have just as easily let Crowley pack a basket on his own, the demon knows his preferences well enough by now, but why pass on a chance to do something together, out in the open?]
I'm glad it meets your standards. I know it's one of your favorites.
[He returns to the tiramisu, giving Crowley another bite or two in between his own. Once they're done, he miracles away the empty plates and silverware, leaving behind just the wine.]
So tell me, how long have you owned this property? And what have you been accumulating there that you didn't have room for in your flat?
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Not long after you got your shop. Every couple hundred years, I transfer it to a new place. Just happened to kind of like this one.
[ He's a little more cagey about what he's been keeping stowed away in boxes and crates - he's sure Aziraphale will recognize a significant portion of it - most of the little souvenirs Crowley hoarded greedily were to remind him of happy times, and much of those times involved Aziraphale. ]
You know, things. Of the sentimental variety - most of which I didn't want to explain to other demons Hell sends by. It wasn't often but... they never call ahead of time so. Couldn't have anything on display that didn't have nine layers of plausible deniability attached to it.
[ Crowley didn't live in the mausoleum he calls a flat because he likes the brutal concrete architecture. He lives there because he was trying to cultivate a very particular image. The kind he didn't dare stray from lest someone be on to him. ]
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It's easier than lugging things around from place to place, isn't it?
[It's the real reason he opened the bookshop, even if he did have the genuine intention of selling books on occasion. (Just not any of the books he really liked, which was, as it turned out, almost all of them.)
As Crowley cautiously explains, Aziraphale refills their glasses and offers one to him. The expression on the angel's face is deeply sympathetic, knowing exactly what it's like to have one's superiors appear unannounced.]
I understand, dear. I had the cover of my bookshop for such items. Well, that and the fact that Gabriel wouldn't recognize a sentimental object if it was bounced off the back of his head.
[He takes a sip from his own glass, his eyes bright.]
I must admit that I'm very curious about what you consider sentimental.
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Probably not. ]
Angel, there's a lot of things Gabriel wouldn't recognize if they bounced right off his head.
[ He doesn't dwell on it though. It's the past, and right now, they have a big, bright future to look forward to. Crowley presses a kiss to Aziraphale's shoulder. ]
I wonder if I should just let it all be a surprise? I mean, you've seen the inside of my flat, you can probably guess, but still.
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Fair enough. My point is, I could keep my treasures out in the open.
[He hums at the shoulder kiss and settles back into Crowley's embrace. All the more reason to build a new home together, so that Crowley can have a space that truly reflects his interests.]
If you'd like to surprise me, I can wait. [A small, teasing smile appears on his face.] You didn't nick something from the Bastille when I wasn't looking, did you?
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[ Crowley's tone is deliberately elusive as he kisses up along Aziraphale's neck. Oh, that smile! Crowley likes to think of it as Aziraphale's bastard smile, the kind he gets when there's a little mischief in him. ]
You know how much I love to surprise you, angel, but if you want to keep guessing, be my guest. Perhaps we should make a little game of it...?
[ Crowley's lips have migrated to the vicinity of Aziraphale's earlobe at this point, the demon grinning wide and bright. ]
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A game? And what are the rules, dear? How many guesses do I get?
[They've played games like this before, ways to pass the time and reminisce over a bottle or three of wine. Aziraphale thinks it's jolly fun, and perhaps an easier path for Crowley to reveal what sort of sentimental treasures he has hidden away. He smiles, gently tugging the braid so that the tip of it tickles his shoulder.]
And what do I get if I win?
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[ Which, as vendiagrams go, was about as close to a circle as one could get. There wasn't a single inch of Aziraphale Crowley didn't love kissing. A game neither of them could feasibly lose.
The demon hums in contentment at that gentle tug on his braid, nuzzling into Aziraphale's curls. ]
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[As it happens, there isn't anywhere on his body that he doesn't love Crowley kissing, so it's a win-win no matter how he guesses. Not that he won't take his guesses seriously; he turns a little in Crowley's arms so that he can look at his face for a hint. His response to bringing up the Bastille might be a clue, too.
There's an adorable little pinch between Aziraphale's eyebrows while he thinks.]
Hmmm... did you keep something from lunch after you rescued me?
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[ That little furrow of Aziraphale's brow can only be described as cute and so Crowley very much wants to give it a nice kiss. And he does. ]
Got to narrow it down a bit more than that though if you want the grand prize.
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There was a little vase of flowers on the table, wasn't there? Was that it?
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[ He rests his chin on Aziraphale's shoulder, grinning expectantly as he waits for the angel to tell him where he'd like to be kissed. ]
Though there is one other thing...
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Oh... all this time, they've been growing?
[He turns just enough to look at Crowley with an aching softness, prize forgotten. And here he thought he was the sentimental one.]
Best if you just tell me, dearest. I don't know if my corporation can take another surprise like that.
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