[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. ]
[Feeling that not quite ticklish twitch underneath his fingers, Aziraphale rubs more firmly, chuckling a little at Crowley's turn of phrase. Didn't I just do that? he nearly asks, but Crowley once again takes his breath away before he even has a chance to speak. He cuddles in close, planting kisses up Crowley's neck and along his jaw.]
I love you, too.
[He seals his words with a kiss, pressing his lips to Crowley's, never tiring of the demon's taste. Sweeter than any berry, more intoxicating than any alcohol.]
I'm very much looking forward to tomorrow. And every day after that, with you.
[ Crowley sounds awestruck by this possibility. Every day, spent just how they'd like in a life they build together. Something of their very own, to have and hold in their hands. Something that couldn't be taken from them by Heaven or Hell.
Crowley spent so many centuries trying to break the leads and chains Hell constantly attached to him, it's hard to get used to the fact that finally - finally - after all these years, he's free, and Aziraphale is free, and they can finally choose and they've chosen each other.
Such a wild notion. ]
I'm looking forward to it too, angel. Little nervous, but...
[ He's not sure 'but' would be. It's too big and too new to describe, and so he holds Aziraphale close, returning each kiss and hopes that conveys whatever his faltering words can't. ]
[Crowley's awe is matched by the serenity in Aziraphale's voice, his expression one of pure joy. Aziraphale may not have protested as vocally about the control Heaven had over them, but in his heart, he had longed for the opportunity to simply be with Crowley without putting either of them in jeopardy.
When Crowley admits to a bit of nerves, he gives him another kiss and strokes his side reassuringly.]
It is strange that I'm not? We've spent nearly every day together since the Apocalypse was averted, and all it's done is make me love you more. Sharing a home will only add to that, I'm sure of it.
[ Crowley gives a soft chuckle. No, he thinks, it's not entirely strange. It always strikes him how, in so many regards, they're very similar, and Aziraphale wanting to be the one to dive in head first while Crowley is still wrapping his head around things only highlights that.
And there is nothing that quite reassures his many anxieties like Aziraphale's kiss and touch. Crowley visibly relaxes, exhaling his tension into the crook of Aziraphale's neck. ]
You're right - known each other for six thousand years - if we haven't driven each other up the wall yet, I don't think it's going to happen.
[Aziraphale laughs quietly, placing his hand on the crown of Crowley's head and gently scratching at his scalp, mindful of his braid.]
As I told you that first night we were together, I'm all caught up to you now. I can't imagine anything changing that.
[The angel may need some time (like, say, over a century) to come around on an idea, but once he puts his mind to something, he really does give it his all.]
But it's all right to be a little nervous, too. It takes time to settle into new routines.
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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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I love you, too.
[He seals his words with a kiss, pressing his lips to Crowley's, never tiring of the demon's taste. Sweeter than any berry, more intoxicating than any alcohol.]
I'm very much looking forward to tomorrow. And every day after that, with you.
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[ Crowley sounds awestruck by this possibility. Every day, spent just how they'd like in a life they build together. Something of their very own, to have and hold in their hands. Something that couldn't be taken from them by Heaven or Hell.
Crowley spent so many centuries trying to break the leads and chains Hell constantly attached to him, it's hard to get used to the fact that finally - finally - after all these years, he's free, and Aziraphale is free, and they can finally choose and they've chosen each other.
Such a wild notion. ]
I'm looking forward to it too, angel. Little nervous, but...
[ He's not sure 'but' would be. It's too big and too new to describe, and so he holds Aziraphale close, returning each kiss and hopes that conveys whatever his faltering words can't. ]
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[Crowley's awe is matched by the serenity in Aziraphale's voice, his expression one of pure joy. Aziraphale may not have protested as vocally about the control Heaven had over them, but in his heart, he had longed for the opportunity to simply be with Crowley without putting either of them in jeopardy.
When Crowley admits to a bit of nerves, he gives him another kiss and strokes his side reassuringly.]
It is strange that I'm not? We've spent nearly every day together since the Apocalypse was averted, and all it's done is make me love you more. Sharing a home will only add to that, I'm sure of it.
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And there is nothing that quite reassures his many anxieties like Aziraphale's kiss and touch. Crowley visibly relaxes, exhaling his tension into the crook of Aziraphale's neck. ]
You're right - known each other for six thousand years - if we haven't driven each other up the wall yet, I don't think it's going to happen.
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As I told you that first night we were together, I'm all caught up to you now. I can't imagine anything changing that.
[The angel may need some time (like, say, over a century) to come around on an idea, but once he puts his mind to something, he really does give it his all.]
But it's all right to be a little nervous, too. It takes time to settle into new routines.