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.
[The menu alone would have touched Aziraphale deeply, but he's still reeling over the flowers. He smiles at Crowley, eyes sparkling, and squeezes his hand.]
I've kept all of your letters, too. Very risky, if Heaven ever found them. Thank goodness Gabriel's never opened a book, let alone read one.
[A half a sitting room of boxes not much compared to Aziraphale's overflowing bookshop, but it's still more than the angel was expecting. It warms him deep inside to know that what Crowley considers important is wrapped up in the times they've spent together.]
I ought to show you what I've saved of us over the years, too. But first --
[He shifts his grip on Crowley, pushing him gently onto his back.]
You reckon Gabriel even knows how to read? Or does he just have one of his cronies do it for him?
[ Crowley falls back into their pile of pillows with a laugh and all the resistance of a feather in a hurricane. He grins, wide and cocky as his back arches in a sensuous, luxurious stretch to entice Aziraphale to him. ]
Well then, to the victor goes the spoils. Where oh where shall I kiss you, love?
Now that you mention it, I never saw him actually read any of the reports I sent him over the years...
[He shrugs dismissively, not wanting to waste another moment on contemplating Gabriel's literacy when there is a warm, undulating Crowley beneath him. Propping himself up on an elbow, he makes a great show of considering his options before tapping his smiling lips.]
[ Crowley gladly pulls him in for a kiss, sliding their lips together in one slow, sensuous motion. This is probably his favourite part in the shift in their relationship; the myriad of ways they kiss each other. Human bodies really are a marvel in all the ways they can be used to show affection, and Crowley always was very demonstrative with his feelings.
Right now, his kiss is gentle, tender, and not-quite-chaste with the playful flick of his tongue, and his hands reach to cup Aziraphale's face that he might thumb through those lovely curls.
He pulls away only briefly to survey his handiwork. ]
That was an excellent first choice. Could kiss you there forever.
[Aziraphale closes his eyes, relaxing into the kiss as one might slip into a warm bath. The symbolism of a romantic kiss reflects his sentiments perfectly, and the physical sensation of Crowley pressing his lips to his always sets his heart fluttering, no matter how gentle or passionate.
He makes a soft sound of longing when Crowley pulls away, lost for a moment or two in the tenderness of the kiss. He opens his eyes and smiles winsomely, brushing back another loose curl from Crowley's braid.]
Mmm... well, forever would interfere with our plans tomorrow, but I wouldn't be opposed to extending that particular kiss for a little while longer...
[ And Crowley pulls him into an embrace, drawing in the angel into another kiss.
The only sound the demon makes is a soft moan of pleasure, his hands running down Aziraphale's naked bod. It's hard not to be anxious about showing Aziraphale a part of himself Crowley stuffed in storage bins and crates and hid away for centuries. It's true he'd needed a place that was out of the way enough to avoid suspicion, but close enough he could easily get to it, but the reason he'd chosen the cottage specifically had been idle notions of domesticity in a picturesque countryside. A little fairy tale to tell himself.
He wasn't sure what to think of it potentially becoming true. They could have that - a place just for them, filled with their mementos of a long life in each other's company. ]
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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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[ Because of course he saved their letters. He's sure that could be considered the free space on the Crowley Is A Sentimental Sap bingo card. ]
It's not - not a lot. The crates and boxes fills about half the sitting room -
[ Quite a small amount of possessions for a 6000 year lifespan. ]
- but I wanted to hang on to what was important.
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I've kept all of your letters, too. Very risky, if Heaven ever found them. Thank goodness Gabriel's never opened a book, let alone read one.
[A half a sitting room of boxes not much compared to Aziraphale's overflowing bookshop, but it's still more than the angel was expecting. It warms him deep inside to know that what Crowley considers important is wrapped up in the times they've spent together.]
I ought to show you what I've saved of us over the years, too. But first --
[He shifts his grip on Crowley, pushing him gently onto his back.]
I'd like to claim my prize.
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You reckon Gabriel even knows how to read? Or does he just have one of his cronies do it for him?
[ Crowley falls back into their pile of pillows with a laugh and all the resistance of a feather in a hurricane. He grins, wide and cocky as his back arches in a sensuous, luxurious stretch to entice Aziraphale to him. ]
Well then, to the victor goes the spoils. Where oh where shall I kiss you, love?
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Now that you mention it, I never saw him actually read any of the reports I sent him over the years...
[He shrugs dismissively, not wanting to waste another moment on contemplating Gabriel's literacy when there is a warm, undulating Crowley beneath him. Propping himself up on an elbow, he makes a great show of considering his options before tapping his smiling lips.]
I think right here would do nicely, darling.
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Right now, his kiss is gentle, tender, and not-quite-chaste with the playful flick of his tongue, and his hands reach to cup Aziraphale's face that he might thumb through those lovely curls.
He pulls away only briefly to survey his handiwork. ]
That was an excellent first choice. Could kiss you there forever.
[ And he would, given even half a chance. ]
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He makes a soft sound of longing when Crowley pulls away, lost for a moment or two in the tenderness of the kiss. He opens his eyes and smiles winsomely, brushing back another loose curl from Crowley's braid.]
Mmm... well, forever would interfere with our plans tomorrow, but I wouldn't be opposed to extending that particular kiss for a little while longer...
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[ And Crowley pulls him into an embrace, drawing in the angel into another kiss.
The only sound the demon makes is a soft moan of pleasure, his hands running down Aziraphale's naked bod. It's hard not to be anxious about showing Aziraphale a part of himself Crowley stuffed in storage bins and crates and hid away for centuries. It's true he'd needed a place that was out of the way enough to avoid suspicion, but close enough he could easily get to it, but the reason he'd chosen the cottage specifically had been idle notions of domesticity in a picturesque countryside. A little fairy tale to tell himself.
He wasn't sure what to think of it potentially becoming true. They could have that - a place just for them, filled with their mementos of a long life in each other's company. ]
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