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. ]
[Aziraphale's laughter is swallowed up by Crowley's kiss, his amused chuckles melting into a pleased moan, his hands finding their own spots on Crowley's lithe frame to stroke tenderly. Concern about mixed essences aside, the angel has taken to the physical side of their relationship like a duck to water, just as Crowley predicted, becoming ever confident in the way their bodies entwine. It's why he can feel that bit of anxiety still lingering in his partner, which he tries his best to reassure.]
I am very much looking forward to tomorrow, darling. Not just to peek at all the mementos you've saved, but I want a proper tour of the property, too. Have you done anything with the garden aside from the roses?
[ It's seeing the way Aziraphale has bloomed with confidence without the Archangels always trying to grind it out of him that leaves Crowley breathless and beaming. To Crowley's eyes, Aziraphale has always been brilliant and beautiful, but it's in these moments Crowley is really able to drink it in - the sight of him, the warm weight of his body, and the distant tickle of something else ethereal and wonderful brushing up against Crowley's very essence.
Crowley's said it once, he's said it a thousand times; Heaven has no taste. It's the only logical explanation he has as to why Aziraphale was treated so poorly rather than having half a dozen celestial suitors mooning over him at any given time.
In other words, Crowley is very reassured. Or at least too smitten to let his usual neurosis get a foothold. ]
Done a bit, yeah. S'where I plant all the rejects that didn't thrive in captivity. Let them do their own thing. Probably all overgrown now, gonna have to do a lot of weeding.
[It's been easy for Aziraphale to blossom, what with Crowley always warmly encouraging him, thankfully treating him much more tenderly than the plants he cultivates in his flat. Although the angel always suspected that Crowley wasn't the Big Bad Demon he presented to the plants, yelling and threatening them into excellence. This bit of information confirms it, and he smiles knowingly in response.]
I had a feeling you were doing something with them other than sending them down the disposal.
[He gives Crowley another kiss, toying gently with the end of his braid.]
That's one of the downsides of living in Soho. Not much room for greenery or wildlife. It was the one thing I liked about the Dowling estate... it'd be nice to have a proper garden again.
First off, that'd wreck the disposal. Not that they know that, so let's just keep it our little secret.
[ It's so easy to imagine Aziraphale in the garden with him, sharing the shade of an apple tree, their hands and knees dirty from an afternoon of weeding while they sip lemonade and talk about their evening plans. Or perhaps cold winter nights sharing a blanket while sipping mulled wine and toasting marshmallows and laughing at each other's terrible jokes.
Crowley can't help smiling at the thought, and he watches Aziraphale idly play with his hair as though that, in and of itself, is some marvelous and miraculous thing. Water to wine has nothing on Aziraphale touching him.
Crowley cups Aziraphale's cheek, returning the kiss. ]
You haven't even seen the place and it sounds like you've made up your mind.
[ His tone is more teasing than accusatory, but he's also ever so pleased that the idea of domestic life appeals to the angel. ]
For all I know, the roof's caved in and there's mold in the kitchen. S'been six years since I've been to the place.
[Aziraphale mimes zipping his lips with a twinkle in his eyes. What's one small secret shared between the two of them? Although Crowley might find his verbally aggressive efforts countered in their future garden. Not on purpose -- Aziraphale is out of the business of countering demonic wiles -- but the angel is sure to shine his love upon the plants as he does all living things.
And, oh, does he look forward to that. His thoughts run similar to Crowley's, imagining the quiet moments they can spend together in the garden, whether picnicking during the day or stargazing at night, mugs of cocoa to keep them warm. It'd be their own personal Eden (but better -- Eden didn't have things like wine or cheese or mini marshmallows).
There's a blush at Crowley's teasing, along with a pleased smile. His fingers wander off Crowley's braid and scratch gently at the nape of his neck.]
Perhaps I have. You've made it sound so bucolic... and if there's any sort of damage, I'm sure we can straighten it out, whether through mundane or miraculous means.
[ Crowley makes a terribly embarrassing sound when Aziraphale starts scratching at the nape of his neck; something between a squeak and a moan, and the demon promptly tries to wriggle into burying his face in in Aziraphale's shoulder while simultaneously trying to lean into the touch.
It makes for a terribly squirmy demon. ]
Could probably get the hang of a hammer and nails - they got - they got all sorts of things on the internet these days. Tutorials, how-tos. That sort of thing.
[ He's breathless from such a small touch, feeling that pleasant jolt of arousal throughout his body making it very hard to focus on their line of conversation. His overactive imagination flits between thoughts of furnishing a bedroom and making love in it.
...And on every other surface it's feasible for entities for whom the box for 'Gravity' has been ticked as 'Optional'. ]
[Oh, hello, that is quite the reaction, one that Aziraphale continues to exploit shamelessly, even though a wriggly demon makes for a ticklish, giggling angel. Every day now, seemingly, there's a new spot on Crowley that he learns how to touch just so to elicit the most wonderful responses. He hopes that he never stops learning.]
There are also people who do those sorts of things for a living, dear. The possibilities are endless.
[Aziraphale will always give credit where credit is due, and humans are marvelous at so many things that the angel does not have interest or patience in doing himself.
Finally relenting in his nape scratching, Aziraphale slides his hand along Crowley's back, absently tapping each freckle that he already has memorized.]
Either way, we'll get it into tip-top shape in no time at all.
[ Crowley finds Aziraphale's giggling contagious, and a few of his own bubble up from him as he finally settles nestled close to Aziraphale, his arms draping around him in a loose embrace. What a wonderful thing it is to hear the angel laugh so freely. Far too often they had to suppress their mirth along with so many other things that such a small thing is a wonder His own smile is relaxed, despite the growing tension between his legs that's become rather par for the course these days. ]
Oh, I dunno - might be fun to learn. You know, doing it the human way - always liked working with my hands.
[ Crowley emphasizes that with a squeeze to Aziraphale's bum. Working with his hands indeed. ]
[Crowley's genuine laughter is always a delight to Aziraphale's ears, especially combined with the way the demon drapes all over him. These are the quiet sorts of evenings he's come to savor, which is why a relocation to a quaint cottage on the shore is not any sort of inconvenience. So long as there are a few good restaurants nearby, too.
The squeeze to the bum makes Aziraphale huff in such a way that he's obviously amused by the pun, but refuses to show it.]
Believe me, I know.
[His hand slides to Crowley's hip, giving it a firm caress and then teasing his fingers towards the demon's groin.]
I'd be happy to give you a helping hand or two. You need only ask.
[Aziraphale beams at the compliment, sliding his hand a bit further and lightly stroking the inside of Crowley's thigh.]
You'd get both, dear. Maybe even a helping mouth.
[It's all too easy to imagine Crowley in some flattering workman's clothes, skin glistening from his hard work, although even in his fantasy, the angel is fussily brushing plaster dust out of his lover's hair.]
[ There is no known language outside the bedroom where the order of stuttering and breathless sounds Crowley just made form any kind of coherent words. His muscles spasm under Aziraphale's fingers and his body gives an involuntary jolt, caught between feeling pleasure and feeling ticklish. ]
Fuck me, angel, I love all those things.
[ He's gives a soft pant of laughter, quite beside himself with affection, and encircles Aziraphale in his arms. It's so easy to imagine a life together - a cozy cottage near the sea with a garden. Flowers in the spring, kissing berry stained lips in the summer, picking fruit in the autumn, and cuddled up by a fire with cocoa (and maybe a nip of brandy splashed in) during the winter. ]
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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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[Aziraphale's laughter is swallowed up by Crowley's kiss, his amused chuckles melting into a pleased moan, his hands finding their own spots on Crowley's lithe frame to stroke tenderly. Concern about mixed essences aside, the angel has taken to the physical side of their relationship like a duck to water, just as Crowley predicted, becoming ever confident in the way their bodies entwine. It's why he can feel that bit of anxiety still lingering in his partner, which he tries his best to reassure.]
I am very much looking forward to tomorrow, darling. Not just to peek at all the mementos you've saved, but I want a proper tour of the property, too. Have you done anything with the garden aside from the roses?
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Crowley's said it once, he's said it a thousand times; Heaven has no taste. It's the only logical explanation he has as to why Aziraphale was treated so poorly rather than having half a dozen celestial suitors mooning over him at any given time.
In other words, Crowley is very reassured. Or at least too smitten to let his usual neurosis get a foothold. ]
Done a bit, yeah. S'where I plant all the rejects that didn't thrive in captivity. Let them do their own thing. Probably all overgrown now, gonna have to do a lot of weeding.
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I had a feeling you were doing something with them other than sending them down the disposal.
[He gives Crowley another kiss, toying gently with the end of his braid.]
That's one of the downsides of living in Soho. Not much room for greenery or wildlife. It was the one thing I liked about the Dowling estate... it'd be nice to have a proper garden again.
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[ It's so easy to imagine Aziraphale in the garden with him, sharing the shade of an apple tree, their hands and knees dirty from an afternoon of weeding while they sip lemonade and talk about their evening plans. Or perhaps cold winter nights sharing a blanket while sipping mulled wine and toasting marshmallows and laughing at each other's terrible jokes.
Crowley can't help smiling at the thought, and he watches Aziraphale idly play with his hair as though that, in and of itself, is some marvelous and miraculous thing. Water to wine has nothing on Aziraphale touching him.
Crowley cups Aziraphale's cheek, returning the kiss. ]
You haven't even seen the place and it sounds like you've made up your mind.
[ His tone is more teasing than accusatory, but he's also ever so pleased that the idea of domestic life appeals to the angel. ]
For all I know, the roof's caved in and there's mold in the kitchen. S'been six years since I've been to the place.
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And, oh, does he look forward to that. His thoughts run similar to Crowley's, imagining the quiet moments they can spend together in the garden, whether picnicking during the day or stargazing at night, mugs of cocoa to keep them warm. It'd be their own personal Eden (but better -- Eden didn't have things like wine or cheese or mini marshmallows).
There's a blush at Crowley's teasing, along with a pleased smile. His fingers wander off Crowley's braid and scratch gently at the nape of his neck.]
Perhaps I have. You've made it sound so bucolic... and if there's any sort of damage, I'm sure we can straighten it out, whether through mundane or miraculous means.
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It makes for a terribly squirmy demon. ]
Could probably get the hang of a hammer and nails - they got - they got all sorts of things on the internet these days. Tutorials, how-tos. That sort of thing.
[ He's breathless from such a small touch, feeling that pleasant jolt of arousal throughout his body making it very hard to focus on their line of conversation. His overactive imagination flits between thoughts of furnishing a bedroom and making love in it.
...And on every other surface it's feasible for entities for whom the box for 'Gravity' has been ticked as 'Optional'. ]
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There are also people who do those sorts of things for a living, dear. The possibilities are endless.
[Aziraphale will always give credit where credit is due, and humans are marvelous at so many things that the angel does not have interest or patience in doing himself.
Finally relenting in his nape scratching, Aziraphale slides his hand along Crowley's back, absently tapping each freckle that he already has memorized.]
Either way, we'll get it into tip-top shape in no time at all.
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Oh, I dunno - might be fun to learn. You know, doing it the human way - always liked working with my hands.
[ Crowley emphasizes that with a squeeze to Aziraphale's bum. Working with his hands indeed. ]
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The squeeze to the bum makes Aziraphale huff in such a way that he's obviously amused by the pun, but refuses to show it.]
Believe me, I know.
[His hand slides to Crowley's hip, giving it a firm caress and then teasing his fingers towards the demon's groin.]
I'd be happy to give you a helping hand or two. You need only ask.
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[ Crowley rolls his hips into Aziraphale's questing palm just to drive the point home. ]
Reckon I'd still get a helping hand when I'm all sweaty and covered in old plaster dust...?
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You'd get both, dear. Maybe even a helping mouth.
[It's all too easy to imagine Crowley in some flattering workman's clothes, skin glistening from his hard work, although even in his fantasy, the angel is fussily brushing plaster dust out of his lover's hair.]
And a bath, too.
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Fuck me, angel, I love all those things.
[ He's gives a soft pant of laughter, quite beside himself with affection, and encircles Aziraphale in his arms. It's so easy to imagine a life together - a cozy cottage near the sea with a garden. Flowers in the spring, kissing berry stained lips in the summer, picking fruit in the autumn, and cuddled up by a fire with cocoa (and maybe a nip of brandy splashed in) during the winter. ]
...I especially love you.
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