Happy Holidays, HolRose! Gift #1

[goe_mod]

Title: Once Upon a Dream
Recipient: HolRose
Rating: M
Pairings: Aziraphale/Crowley
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley live together as friends. But when their home comes under attack, their feelings for each other surface. Desperate to protect each other, they fight for their future.

Link to Gift 2 rated Teen
Link to Gift 3 rated Explicit



After the world didn’t end, sharing a cottage seemed like the natural thing to do.

Aziraphale and Crowley had been friends for millennia, after all, even if Aziraphale had struggled to admit that until recently. They knew each other, understood each other’s quirks and habits, and very much enjoyed spending time together.

And it felt like time for a change, now that they were both retired. Without Heaven and Hell hounding them, they could do whatever they liked.

Aziraphale spooned flour into his sourdough starter and mixed it in, humming along with the Schubert record playing from the dining room. Baking had become one of his very favorite pastimes, especially when he could tempt Crowley into trying the sweets.

Crowley’s familiar stomping footfalls reached the kitchen long before he did. Aziraphale chuckled to himself and poured a cup of coffee. He added sugar and milk, then stirred it all up.

He could always tell precisely how Crowley felt—just pay attention to how the demon was walking—but he asked anyway. “Good morning, Crowley. And how are we today?”

“Nnnnrng.” Crowley bristled with irritation as expected, and Aziraphale suppressed a smile. “The damn aphids are on my radishes again. I don’t understand why the bastards keep going after the spicy vegetables, of all things. I expect bugs on my fruit and stuff, but radishes?”

“They do come on a bit strong,” Aziraphale said mildly. “Rather intense.”

“Right? They’re… dunno, all hot and peppery and…” Crowley gave a frustrated snarl and dragged a hand through his short hair. “I just never expect anyone to go for them.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Aziraphale held out the steaming mug of coffee. “I rather like radishes.”

Crowley’s expression softened. He crossed the kitchen, steps lighter now, and took the coffee. “I know you do. S’ why I grow them.”

“You’re very kind,” Aziraphale needled, unable to resist.

“And you’re a bastard.” Glaring, Crowley chugged his coffee. He rinsed the mug out and set it in the dish drain, then flashed a quick smile. “Thanks for the coffee, angel. Need me to grab anything particular from the garden today?”

“Some little tomatoes would be nice.” Pleased at the thought, Aziraphale rubbed his hands together. “I’m planning to make a quiche today, and I do love those.”

“Cherry tomatoes, got it.” Crowley swiveled around, heading for the side door.

Aziraphale waited until he was nearly there, watching with amusement. “Sunglasses, dear fellow.”

“Ah, shit.” Crowley twisted back around and grabbed them off the kitchen table. “Thanks, angel, dunno what I’d do without you.”

Warmth flooded through Aziraphale, and he beamed. “Well, I imagine you’d have rather more headaches.”

Once Crowley stormed outside, Aziraphale chuckled again. He covered his sourdough starter to keep bugs out and retrieved his own tea. He took a sip, gazing out the window at the rose bushes, and then went to the table.

His daily paper sat on the table, already open to the crossword. Oh, Crowley must have brought it in for him! He hadn’t noticed, too curious about why the demon was so on edge. Or maybe Crowley had set this up after his earlier trip outside. Either way, it was sweet.

Pleased, Aziraphale sank into his chair and sipped his tea. The tea, too, was something he had to thank Crowley for.

It turned out that living with such a good friend truly was ideal. They reminded each other of important things, gently bickered their way through disagreements, and took care of each other.

On his own, Aziraphale never remembered to purchase anything before he ran out of it. He’d often had to either miracle up his tea and cocoa, or otherwise run to a shop to purchase more. It simply never occurred to him to restock anything.

Crowley, orderly as he was, had immediately taken over that aspect of life once they moved in together. He periodically ran around with a little clipboard taking inventory, and he replenished their standard items on a schedule. And, because he truly was quite sweet, he kept a special eye on Aziraphale’s favorite food and drinks.

Aziraphale, meanwhile, kept them provided with yummy meals, sweets that even Crowley greatly enjoyed, and plenty of cups of tea and coffee. He purchased special editions of single malt whiskey whenever he found them. And, perhaps most important, he encouraged Crowley to slow down and enjoy life rather than simply rushing about in a constant frenzy of activity.

And oh, life was so lovely. They both spent plenty of time absorbed in their own hobbies. But it was so nice to have a friend so, so close. Even closer than Crowley had been when they lived in London.

Aziraphale was far happier than he’d ever been in six thousand years. In fact, he’d be quite happy to spend all eternity just like this. Taking care of each other, doing sweet little things for each other…

He skimmed his fingers lightly across the daily crossword, smiling. Imagining that it was Crowley’s slender hand.

This sort of thing was just an occasional fancy, one that struck whenever he was feeling particularly sentimental. He was very fond of the dear boy, after all. Especially his intensity, his strong personality, his passion.

So sometimes, Aziraphale let himself daydream a bit. About Crowley rushing to his rescue, just as he always had. And then, for that dashing demon to simply sweep him off his feet and—

“You old silly, Aziraphale,” he said to himself, chuckling. “You’ve been reading entirely too many romance novels.”

---

Crowley blasted the radishes with one more hard stream of water, then wrenched on the shut-off valve at the end of the hose. Water dripped onto his shoes anyway, and he sighed. Might need to replace the blessed thing at some point.

With a hiss of annoyance, he dropped the hose and crouched down. He pushed the leaves up, checking for lingering aphids. There were, of course, some still nibbling on the greenery.

Humming “Another One Bites the Dust”, he dealt with the final aphids that had managed to hang on, then shifted to check the carrots. Nope, all good there.

Satisfied, he locked his hands behind his back as he stood. He stretched, rocking a little to work out any tight areas. The sun beat down, heat of it soothing his muscles.

Good thing Aziraphale had reminded him to grab his sunglasses, or he’d definitely have a headache. And that good deed meant the angel deserved something special for his troubles.

Humming again, Crowley set off through the garden with long, easy strides. Birdsong and the cheerful quacking of ducks buoyed his spirits. With the aphids handled—for now—today seemed bright.

He walked to the orchard, running a critical eye across the other plants as he went. But aphids aside, all was well in the garden today. Even the fruit trees had a good crop going.

“But it’s not good enough, is it?” he said darkly to a peach tree. The tree shuddered, long leaves rattling against each other. “You know what I expect from all of you. Aziraphale likes fruit, and I demand nothing but perfection for my best friend.”

Saying “my best friend” still made Crowley’s heart skip a beat. Demons weren’t supposed to have friends. Weren’t supposed to be happy. Weren’t supposed to love their lives.

And yet, he did. He was the luckiest demon—the luckiest being—in all Creation.

He snapped his fingers, miracling a wicker basket. He filled it with peaches and plums, then snagged the first of the early apples. Next, he paid a visit to the berry bushes, turning strawberries in his hand until he found ones that were perfectly ripe.

Crowley carefully selected tomatoes next, the little ones that Aziraphale liked to put in practically every dish. It was great to see the angel having so much fun, even if he did insist on coaxing Crowley to sample everything.

On the way back to the cottage, Crowley picked a handful of love-in-a-mist. The light blue blooms were some of Aziraphale’s favorites. He cooed over them practically every time they went for a walk together.

When Crowley returned, Aziraphale was still in the kitchen humming along with a record and grating cheese. He’d moved on to Debussy now, apparently done with his Schubert album.

“Oh, back already?” Aziraphale said cheerfully, dusting cheese off his hands. “Did you remember my tomatoes?”

“’Course I did.” Crowley set the basket on the table, careful not to put it on the nearly finished crossword puzzle. “And I picked these for—”

for you

“—for the table. Er. As a centerpiece,” Crowley quickly amended. He held out the love-in-a-mist. “Thought they’d brighten things up.”

“Oh, oh! They’re lovely.” Aziraphale bustled over and cupped the small bouquet in both hands. “I’m so glad you thought of that. I’ll get a vase for them, shall I?”

“Yup.” Crowley waited for the vase, then carefully arranged the flowers. A quick miracle made the vase spill-proof. “I’m gonna run back out and finish my garden stuff. I watered earlier, but I’ve got some fertilizing to do, and I need to divide some of the perennials.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale pouted a little. “You will keep me company this evening, I hope?”

Crowley smiled at him. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

His heart raced as he fled outside. Gosh, it was stupid to be this freaked out by almost saying the wrong thing. It probably wouldn’t have caused issues even if he had said it.

The trouble was that he really, really wanted to bring Aziraphale flowers without passing it off as being just for the décor.

He and Aziraphale had lived together for two years. Best friends, happy in each other’s company. And there was no real reason close friends couldn’t give each other flowers.

But Crowley never phrased it that way, never specified that they were for Aziraphale. That might come across as pressure, or make Aziraphale feel like he needed to reciprocate. And that, Crowley couldn’t bear. No matter what, he never wanted to make Aziraphale uncomfortable.

Frustrated with himself, Crowley stomped down to the thick patch of flowers near their front gate. It was a good walk from the cottage, which meant he could rant and chastise himself without Aziraphale overhearing.

“Shitshitshitshit.” He dragged a hand through his hair and snarled, then dropped to his knees to examine the peonies. “Get ahold of yourself. There’s no reason to have stupid, unrealistic fantasies. Got everything you want right here.”

A twig snapped.

Crowley jerked his head up, twisting to look around. No one on the drive, and he couldn’t see anyone in the nearby woods. Didn’t hear anything. Or smell anything.

Probably just an animal, then. With a prickle of unease unrelated to his desire to give Aziraphale daily flowers along with his crossword, Crowley resumed gardening.

---

After a lovely evening of munching quiche and cakes while Crowley watched, Aziraphale leaned back in his chair. The love-in-a-mist bouquet brightened their small dining room table, a cheerful burst of color against the polished wood. “Oh, I do love those.”

Crowley glanced up from his remaining dribbles of wine. His golden eyes went wonderfully soft, a smile gracing his lips. “I know you do, angel. How were your tomatoes?”

“Oh, marvelous.” Aziraphale wiggled in his seat and clapped his hands together. “Well! Shall we retire to the living room?”

As usual, Crowley rolled his eyes at the formal language before standing. “Sure, sounds good. Were the cakes enough dessert, or d’ya want another snack?”

Aziraphale considered it for a moment. “I think I’d like some ice cream. Do we still have vanilla?”

“Yup. I wouldn’t let you run out.” Crowley flashed a grin on his way to the kitchen.

That was entirely true, and it was so nice. Pleased, Aziraphale miracled the dishes to the sink, then padded through the cottage.

He paused beside a bookcase, fingers brushing along the spines of novels. The bulk of his collection resided upstairs—Crowley had been immensely helpful in the move—but at least one bookcase sat in each room. Sometimes several.

“Got your ice cream.” Crowley sauntered behind him, and there was a fwump as he dropped to the sofa. “Did you finish Jane Eyre before I woke up?”

“I’m afraid so.” Which meant needing to pick another book to read tonight. Aziraphale adored reading, but choosing books sometimes overwhelmed him. “Crowley?”

“Mm?” The clink of a spoon against a bowl. Apparently, Crowley had decided to have some ice cream as well.

“Should I reread Georgette Heyer’s entire bibliography, or start a new series?” Aziraphale stroked the spine of The Black Moth.

“Heyer,” Crowley answered at once. “When you’re having trouble picking, it’s usually because you feel like you should read a new book, but you don’t want to. Just read what you actually want, Aziraphale.”

“Well, thank you.” Giggling, Aziraphale selected his book. “You know me so well, my dear.”

“I do.” Crowley was sprawled on the sofa, tapping away at his mobile. Perhaps playing one of his little games, or starting arguments on the internet. He did have a mischievous streak, even after retirement.

Content, Aziraphale settled into his armchair with his book, ice cream, and another glass of wine. He set the ice cream bowl in his lap, periodically nibbling at the sweet as he read. Crowley had dished it up, so it would know better than to melt.

But then a faint sense of unease rolled through Aziraphale, as if something was wrong. He looked up from his book.

Crowley, mobile abandoned on the sofa, was at the window now. He always moved around frequently—eternally restless, the dear—but staring outside at night was unusual.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Dunno.” Crowley paced to a different window, pushing back the curtains. “Have you seen anything out of the ordinary lately?”

“Aside from my friend gazing morosely into the darkness, like a brooding hero from one of my novels?” Aziraphale asked. And then he blushed, hoping very much that Crowley hadn’t picked up any implications from that comment.

“M’ not morose,” Crowley snapped.

Aziraphale chuckled. Crowley was certainly capable of being morose, as well as intensely cranky. “No, then. Why? Did you see something?”

“Nh.” Frowning, Crowley stomped back to the original window. Then he snarled and flung himself back onto the sofa. “Probably just the wind.”

Reassured, Aziraphale returned to his book. Crowley had always been rather intense, sometimes paranoid. Definitely fiery and passionate. Indeed, he would make a perfect hero in Aziraphale’s favorite sort of romance novel.

Those romance novels that Aziraphale really was reading far, far too often. There could be no other explanation for having so many silly thoughts and daydreams.





Ch2



Crowley had never gone to bed. That in itself wasn’t unusual. Angels and demons didn’t require sleep, after all. And while Crowley—unlike Aziraphale—was in the habit of it, he didn’t always sleep every night.

More unusually, though, he’d barely done anything other than pace all night. He often hopped up from the sofa to look out the window, stormed back and forth through the cottage. And Aziraphale was fairly certain that he kept checking to be sure all the doors were locked.

Dawn glowed from behind the curtains, and the light, melodious chatter of birdsong rose from the garden. And finally, Aziraphale had reached his limit.

He set his book down with a huff, unable to concentrate with Crowley pacing back and forth. “Good Lord, Crowley. You’re as bad as Sergeant Shadwell!”

“I’m sure there’s someone out there,” Crowley said, vanishing into the plant room. “I feel something. Can you feel it?”

Aziraphale sighed and tugged off his reading glasses. “My dear, I can’t feel anything besides your agitation.”

Crowley rushed back into the living room, footfalls quick and hard. “Wait, you can feel that?” he asked, sparing a glance for Aziraphale before drawing the curtain aside and gazing out.

“Yes, and it’s incredibly distracting!” Mainly because whenever Crowley was upset, it made Aziraphale awfully upset too. Far more than was reasonable perhaps, but he simply couldn’t endure it.

“Nh, sorry.” Crowley peered out the window once more, fists clenched. And then, working his jaw, he dropped onto the sofa. “I swear something’s wrong. I heard noises, and… I just don’t feel like we’re safe, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale’s heart wrenched. He leaned forward, almost reached to clasp Crowley’s hand, and remembered not to at the last second. “Crowley, please understand that I don’t mean to be hurtful. But I think you’re being a little paranoid.”

Crowley glared at him. “Paranoid?”

“Yes, a bit. And I can hardly blame you.” Aziraphale gave a sympathetic pout. He’d seen Crowley like this before, in the old days when they’d still been bound to their old Sides. When Crowley had been constantly terrified. “You’ve lived a very hard life—”

“We’ve lived very hard lives,” Crowley corrected sharply.

“And it’s more than understandable for you to still feel as though you must always be on guard.” And then, unable to bear his friend’s rising distress, Aziraphale laid his hand across Crowley’s. “But we are safe now, my dear fellow. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. We’re free.”

Crowley was trembling, breaths rapid as he stared at Aziraphale’s hand. Then he gave a heavy sigh, nodding. “Okay. You’re probably right, angel. I do get a little, er…”

Aziraphale smiled kindly. He still couldn’t quite bring himself to remove his hand. It was difficult not to do more, to not offer a hug, but that might be crossing an unspoken boundary. They had only hugged a few times in six thousand years. “A little jumpy?”

“Jumpy’s probably an understatement.” Crowley made a face, nose wrinkling. But he turned his hand to clasp Aziraphale’s. Just for a brief moment before letting go, but the contact made Aziraphale’s tummy swoop. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll try to watch some Golden Girls.”

Golden Girls was by far one of Crowley’s favorite shows, something he always turned to when he was stressed and needed something calming. Aziraphale passed him the telly remote and rose. “I’ll go make you some tea as well, shall I?”

“Would you?” Crowley drew his long legs up onto the sofa, curling in on himself. He looked vulnerable right now, still scared, and Aziraphale’s longing to hug him only increased. “Tea sounds really good.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Worried about his friend, Aziraphale returned to the kitchen and flipped on the kettle.

He stared down at his fingers for a moment, remembering the feeling of Crowley’s cool, trembling hand in his. Oh dear, that had certainly not helped with his silly impulses.

Not only was he craving the usual sort of thing—sitting on the sofa together and holding hands—now his instincts as a Principality had activated. He also longed to pull Crowley close to him, wrap him in fluffy white wings, and keep him safe from anything that might so much as startle him.

But no, there would be no hugs or hand holding. Crowley hardly needed a silly angel crowding him when he was already so upset. No, what he needed was a soothing cup of tea and a day of marathon racing his favorite show.

Something rustled outside, and Aziraphale jerked his head up. He leaned forward and peered out the kitchen window, heart suddenly racing. What if Crowley was right? What if there really was danger?

But everything outside seemed perfectly peaceful.

---

Only vaguely listening to Golden Girls, Crowley stared down at his hand. He could still feel Aziraphale’s warm, gentle touch. The softness, the plump fingers curling around his. It had felt amazing.

No. Shaking hands felt amazing. This… this was glorious.

Crowley exhaled slowly, fidgeting with the remote. Something weird was definitely going on outside, wasn’t it? He could still feel the sense of threat, too. His finely tuned alarm system screamed at him to pay attention.

But pay attention to what? He didn’t have anything to go on. Snapping twigs and rustling leaves did not an attack make.

“Here you are, my dear.” Aziraphale bustled over and set down a teacup, plus a plate of shortbread. “There, just in case you get peckish.”

Crowley had never felt less like eating, but he nodded. It was a sweet gesture anyway. “Thanks.”

“Oh, not at all.” Aziraphale hesitated, twisting his hands together. Then he said, “Um. May I sit with you on the sofa?”

Crowley looked to him, startled, and slid over. “Yeah, ‘course. It’s your sofa too. You wanna watch Golden Girls with me, or would you rather put on something else?”

“Oh, this is fine. I think you could rather use something comforting.” Aziraphale gave a gentle smile.

Gentle smile or not, Crowley couldn’t let that pass without at least a token protest. “M’ fine.”

“Mhm.” But now Aziraphale was the one glancing towards the window, expression tight. Like he was watching for an attack too.

“Did you see something?” Crowley asked, cautious. Aziraphale still liked to barricade himself behind denial.

“Nothing! Everything’s fine!” And then as if to deter further questions, Aziraphale stuffed shortbread in his mouth.

Crowley tried again to pay attention to Golden Girls, but his mind drifted right back to problem solving. If they were in danger, what was he gonna do about it? No way to plan without knowing the threat.

Was it Heaven or Hell? Or even humans? A cult, maybe, hired by one of their old Sides? A rogue angel or demon?

Or maybe even humans who didn’t know they were dealing with supernatural entities. But what sort of random humans would come out here, and why? Professional book thieves?

Crowley glanced sideways, trying to be subtle. He gazed at Aziraphale’s familiar face, tracing the softness of the cheeks, the angles of his nose, the pout that said he was worried too.

No matter the threat, Crowley couldn’t let anything happen to Aziraphale again. He’d lost his best friend once before, and it had nearly destroyed him.

And after so many years of peaceful friendship, of sharing their life together, if he lost Aziraphale now…

A violent tremor crashed through Crowley, his hands quaking. Hot tea splashed across his fingers, scalding. “Ow!”

“Oh dear!” Lightning fast, Aziraphale snatched the cup. He shoved it onto the coffee table and caught Crowley’s hands, cradling them in his own. “Oh, Crowley, you’ve burnt yourself!”

Crowley couldn’t tell whether the lightheaded wooziness was from Aziraphale’s careful touch or the searing pain. Either way, the rush of emotion from being touched so gently was almost enough to distract him from how much his hands hurt. “Nyeh, s’ not a big deal. Don’t worry.”

Patches of red blistered across his fingers, and he winced as Aziraphale examined them. The angel made a soft tutting noise. “Goodness. Let me tend to this, hmm? Just a quick healing, and you’ll be good as new.”

Light, cleansing power swept across the burns, and Crowley swallowed hard. The tender, careful miracle felt almost as good as Aziraphale’s hands on his. “Thanks, angel. That’s loads better already. Clumsy idiot, me.”

But Aziraphale didn’t let go, frowning instead. “You’re still trembling so,” he said quietly. “My dear, I’m very worried. I haven’t seen you this agitated in quite some time.”

Crowley tried to shrug it off. “I’m just still kinda on edge.”

“No, you’re more than on edge.” Aziraphale bit his lip. “Um… May I ask whether you’ve been having nightmares? Is that what set this off?”

Crowley couldn’t blame him for asking, but he hissed and tugged his hands free. “M’ fine.”

Aziraphale gave a doubtful look. And no wonder, really. In the past, he’d shaken Crowley awake from nightmares about the bookshop burning down. He’d seen Crowley in the aftermath of the dreams, trembling and chugging scotch to try to calm himself. It was no wonder Aziraphale suspected something similar.

And, after all, that same caring and concern was why Crowley liked him so much. Loved him, even.

So Crowley sighed. “Sorry, angel. I haven’t had any nightmares the last few months, s’ not that. I really do think there’s something out there, that we’re in danger.”

“Okay. I… I suppose it’s worth considering.” Aziraphale searched Crowley’s face, twisting his hands together. “Crowley, I hope you know that my hesitation to believe we’re in peril isn’t due to a lack of trust. I trust you completely.”

Despite the itching desire to get up and check out the window for attackers again, Crowley managed a smile. “I know you do. I trust you too.”

“Oh, thank you.” Aziraphale gave an apologetic smile and straightened, hands still wringing. “I know you’ve always been rather, well. Protective. And that’s marvelous!”

Crowley lifted an eyebrow. “But?”

“But…” With a long exhale, Aziraphale glanced towards the window. “Things have always been so very peaceful here. I feel so safe here, and we haven’t heard anything from our old Sides in years.”

“Nh, you saw something earlier.” Irritated, Crowley pursed his lips. He wasn’t gonna let Aziraphale get away with that. “I could tell. When you came back with the tea, something had freaked you out.”

Aziraphale huffed. “I thought I heard a bit of rustling, that’s all. But I suppose I was just being a bit anxious and worried. It was nothing, though, I’m quite sure of that. I truly do think everything’s going to be just fine.”

And then something crashed through the window.

Crowley shot to his feet, shoving Aziraphale behind him as fragments of glass scattered across the rug. An arrow thudded into the opposite wall, and another one zipped right over his shoulder.

“Crowley!” Something soft collided with his side, knocking him over. Crowley slammed into the ground, Aziraphale on top of him.

In other circumstances, that might have been nice. Now, it was just inconvenient. They disentangled, then clutched for each other’s hands as another arrow zinged through the air and embedded itself in the sofa.

The arrow was all black, fletching tattered. And it smelled of sulfur and smoke.

“Demons,” Aziraphale said, his hazel eyes wide with terror. “If you’re captured, they’ll try to execute you. You need to run. Crowley, run!”

“Fuck that! I’m not leaving you.” Holding tight to Aziraphale’s hand, Crowley scrambled towards the hallway. “Come on!”

Once in the hall, he shoved to his feet and ran, pulling Aziraphale along behind him. They rushed into the kitchen, towards the side door. At least if they could get outside, they had a chance to escape.

Shit, or maybe they should try to get to the holy water Aziraphale kept locked upstairs. But that would mean staying in the cottage. And while Crowley had done loads of protective miracles on the whole place, he couldn’t take the chance of Aziraphale getting trapped in a burning building again.

“What’s our plan?” Aziraphale asked, taking a brief moment to snatch a long knife from the knife block. It immediately erupted into flame.

“I have no idea.” Crowley grabbed a knife too. It did not erupt into flame. “Better chance outside, in the garden. At least they can’t burn the cottage down around us. If we can get to the Bentley, it’ll be fine.”

He grabbed for the doorknob, but Aziraphale intercepted his hand. “Sunglasses,” he said impatiently, hands shaking as he slipped them onto Crowley’s face.

Crowley was stricken with a sudden, mad impulse to kiss him. Instead he grabbed Aziraphale’s hand and hauled him outside.

But there were demons waiting. Spread out in front of the rose bushes, grimy swords raised. And, in the center…

“Well, well. Crowley, and his best friend Aziraphale.” Hastur stepped forward, smiling as he ignited a blaze of Hellfire in one hand. “So good of you to join us.”





Ch3



Shitshitshitshitshit.

Crowley stepped forward, shoving Aziraphale behind him. His mouth went dry, like he hadn’t drank anything in decades. Not Aziraphale, not Aziraphale, not my angel…

“Hastur, hey! What’s up?” The inane greeting spilled out, and Crowley winced. He was gonna have to do better than that, especially if he wanted to be genuinely persuasive. “Look, let’s cut a deal. You can have me, do whatever you like—”

“No!” Aziraphale cried, clutching at the back of his jacket.

“—as long as you let Aziraphale go. It’s me you want, yeah?” Crowley said, desperate. He had to keep Aziraphale safe, couldn’t lose him again. “I’m the one who killed Ligur. You want me.”

Hastur tilted his head, filthy fingers manipulating the Hellfire. Stoking it, until it danced into a blazing column. “You’d surrender? You know that we’ll spend all eternity taking you to pieces, over and over.”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll surrender.” There had never been a doubt. “Just let Aziraphale go.”

“Crowley, stop that!” Aziraphale’s fingers dug hard into his arm. The angel’s breaths came as ragged, panicked gasps. “Don’t do this. We’ll fight them.”

Fighting would have been an option with lower-level demons who couldn’t summon Hellfire, like the others clustered around. But not against a Duke of Hell. Crowley opened his mouth to say that even an eternity of unimaginable torture was far, far preferable to losing Aziraphale.

But before Crowley could speak, Hastur swept his hand forward. An inferno of Hellfire blasted towards them.

With a wordless scream, Crowley snapped his fingers. Everything ground to a halt. The flanking demons froze, and Hastur stilled with a sneer of delight on his face. And the sheet of Hellfire hung suspended in midair, flames engulfing Crowley’s left hand.

Pain blazed through him, the infernal power fighting back against his miracle. He cried out and jerked his hand free, but the sheer angry strength of the Hellfire overwhelmed him. His legs crumpled, and he slammed to the ground.

“Crowley! Oh, oh, my dear!” Strong arms scooped him off the ground. Aziraphale ran into the garden, carrying him. “What is it? What’s happening to you?”

“M’ okay. S’ just… stopping time. Can’t hold…” Crowley gritted his teeth and clutched at Aziraphale’s cardigan. The miracle was slipping, Hellfire gnawing away at it. “Can’t hold it against the Hellfire. Against Hastur.”

He might have been fine if the Hellfire hadn’t touched him, hadn’t burned him. But he lost control over the miracle, and time sprang forward.

A shriek of fury split the air. Hastur must have realized what he’d done. Bastard would be coming after them.

“Oh, oh…” Aziraphale ducked behind a hedge of rose bushes and set Crowley on the grass. He touched Crowley’s face with both hands, frantic. “Are you hurt? Crowley, are you hurt?”

“Nyeh, nothing big. Today’s just my day for getting scalded.” Crowley fought for breath, holding up his blistering hand. Bloody ridiculous. “S’ okay, don’t worry. Listen, we’ve gotta get out of here. We’re cut off from the garage, but I’ve got a way to give us cover.”

“Whatever it is, do it.” Aziraphale twisted to look around, the flaming kitchen knife still clutched in his hand.

Decades ago, while sprawled on the sofa with several bottles of Talisker and a bout of fatalistic anxiety about what Hell might do if they learned of the Arrangement, Crowley had watched Sleeping Beauty. The film had given him an idea, but not one that would help while he lived in London.

But now he had a garden of his own, and he’d put it into play at once. He grasped a branch with his uninjured hand, pricking his finger on one of the thorns. “Once upon a dream,” he said, activating the enchantment.

Power blasted through the gardens. The rose bushes all around the cottage sprang up, tripling in size and locking their branches together. Forming real, solid, extremely thorny hedges, concentric circles centered around him and Aziraphale.

“Good Lord, Crowley. You enchanted your rose bushes?” Aziraphale’s trembling hand settled on his arm. “Are we safe in here?”

“For now.” Crowley rubbed his stinging finger on his thigh, then turned to his angel. He cupped Aziraphale’s warm cheek, aching at the fear in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I haven’t protected us with anything better than some stupid rose bushes. I don’t know how to get out of this one, angel.”

But Aziraphale smiled, lifting his own hand to cradle Crowley’s cheek. His thumb drifted back and forth, soothing him. “Don’t fret, my dear. I for one think that your roses are very clever.”

“Hn. Thanks.” Despite himself, he asked, “You really like ‘em?”

“I do indeed.” Aziraphale gave a soft laugh, then became serious again. “Crowley, I have complete faith in us. We will find a way to survive, but you must promise not to offer yourself again.”

“I won’t if you won’t.” Crowley winced at the increasingly loud swearing from the other side of the hedge. The demons were closing in. How many were out there? The ones with Hastur, plus archers… “I don’t think Hastur is interested in a deal, anyway.”

“Crowley!” Hastur bellowed. “You stuck-up, fancy snake! I’m going to find you, and when I do, I’ll char Aziraphale until he’s nothing more than—”

“Oh, he’s very unpleasant,” Aziraphale said as Hastur’s string of threats and insults continued. The angel gave the hedge a speculative look. The bushes were shuddering. “Um. How long will that hold against the attacks?”

“Not long, unfortunately.” Crowley could already feel the hedge’s power weakening as the demons tore through sections. “Hastur’s using Hellfire, and the others are probably just attacking with regular fire or weapons, so that give us a couple minutes. But we’ve gotta come up with something fast. And we need to move.”

“What about the hedge?” Aziraphale asked.

“It’ll open for either of us, then close behind us.” Crowley scrambled upright and grabbed Aziraphale’s hand. As crackling fire blasted through the hedge, they ran.

---

“We’re coming to get you!” Hastur’s taunting calls echoed through the garden, and Aziraphale shuddered. “I can’t wait to have you chained up and at my mercy, Crowley. Oh wait. I don’t have any mercy.”

Shrieking laughter pursued them, and Aziraphale’s rage boiled over. True righteous fury. How dare that monster threaten his Crowley?

“Shit!” Crowley skidded to a halt, looking around wildly. They’d stopped near his raised vegetable beds, which would hardly be helpful short of throwing radishes at the demons. “We’re surrounded.”

Aziraphale believed him without question this time. “There has to be something. Some way we can fight them.”

Crowley’s entire body shook convulsively, his eyes wide behind the sunglasses. He gave Aziraphale a desperate, terrified look. “I can… I can stop time for long enough for you to get away. But you have to go, now.”

“Out of the question. They would capture and torture you, and I won’t have that.” Tears flooded Aziraphale’s eyes, and he dashed them away. There was no time for tears.

“You’d rescue me, though.” Crowley exhaled slowly and squared his shoulders, fists clenched. “I know you will.”

“Stop making such silly suggestions. There will be no self-sacrifice today.” Aziraphale twisted around, flaming knife still in hand. He could fight some demons with it, but not if they wielded Hellfire. That would destroy him at once.

Still, he had to try. Perhaps there would be some self-sacrifice after all.

And then he saw the garden hose.

He fell to his knees beside it, laying his hand on the green rubber and murmuring words of power over it. Careful in intention, as careful as possible. But no matter how careful he was, this plan carried terrible risk.

“Get behind me,” he said to Crowley, lifting the hose as he stood.

Crowley sucked in a sharp breath. He obeyed at once, crouching down behind Aziraphale. “Angel, be careful.”

“I will.” Aziraphale ripped his wings into the physical plane just as the hedge in front of them caught fire and burned away. He swept his wings back, shielding Crowley.

Demons poured through the breach, jeering. And then Hastur emerged from the smoke, cackling wildly. He held up both hands, Hellfire rising from them. “Hiding behind your angel’s skirts, Crowley? That won’t save—”

Aziraphale turned the hose on at full blast.

The jet of holy water hit Hastur in the chest. His eyes widened with horror, and he began to shriek. His hands flailed as he melted, the Hellfire erupting into a shower of sparks.

“Angel!” Crowley scrambled upright behind him, thrusting his hand out over Aziraphale’s shoulder. A miracle blasted the Hellfire back to sizzle in the rose bushes, all except a few sparks.

Aziraphale sprayed the remaining sparks out of the air with the hose, his heart pounding in his ears, and then fumbled with the shut-off valve. The hose still dripped on the ground at his feet, water trickling through the grass. He retreated, pushing Crowley away from the deadly puddle.

Hastur was nearly gone, faint screams still echoing through the garden as the holy water wiped him from existence. Two other demons, hit by stray droplets, melted into puddles beside him.

“Begone!” Aziraphale cried, pointing the hose towards the remaining demons. They wailed and backpedaled, horror on their faces. “Leave our home, and be grateful for my mercy. If you stay, I will be more than happy to give you another display of angelic wrath!”

A moment’s hesitation, the demonic soldiers eying the hose. Then they vanished, one after another, teleporting away.

Aziraphale flung the hose down as if it was a serpent, and not the friendly kind. Shuddering terror crashed through him. He backed up more, casting miracle after miracle to rip any trace of holy water from his skin or clothes. If a single drop got on Crowley…

“Holy fuck, angel.” Crowley touched his back, rubbing gently by the base of his right wing. “Are you all right?”

“Perfectly fine! Tickety-boo!” Aziraphale blasted himself with three more cleansing miracles, leaving his hands raw and red. It should be safe now. Or rather, he was safe now—the garden less so. “Crowley, there are drops and puddles of holy water all over this area. You must go, now.”

“But what about the stragglers?” Crowley grasped his shoulder, and Aziraphale leaned back into the touch. His cheeks were wet, and panic rushed through him for a moment. But no, those were simply tears. “There’s at least three, I can’t sense the exact number. They’re not Dukes, all lower level, but…”

“Oh, not to worry.” Aziraphale quickly wiped his cheeks, then turned and gave a bright smile. He was, after all, made for this. Made to sacrifice himself to guard those under his care. “I can certainly handle a few demons. I have a flaming kitchen knife, after all.”

He held it up in demonstration, and Crowley pursed his lips. Something odd passed over the demon’s face.

Crowley leaned in and pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s brow. Slow and tender, lingering. “Be careful, angel.”

And then he was gone, running into the garden away from the holy water. Aziraphale watched him for a moment, loving him so much that it hurt.

He would be safe now. Whether Aziraphale survived or met his end with the remaining demons, Crowley would be safe.

Aziraphale raised his flaming knife and marched forward to meet the demons lurking ahead in the garden. He found them in front of the cottage, in the grassy area where he and Crowley often had picnics. Surrounded by rose bushes, they’d exchanged their bows for close quarters weapons.

Well, then. Aziraphale slid easily into a combat stance, trying to appear as cool and collected as Crowley. “Oh, hello. Are you here for some sparring lessons? You’ve come to the right place. I was made for battle, after all.”

Snarling, the demons rushed him. Five of them, four armed with swords and one with a mace. Too many demons for even a Principality to confront alone.

Comforted by the memory of Crowley’s lips against his brow, Aziraphale charged into battle.

---

Crowley dashed through the garden, rose hedges yielding before him. He vaulted over a raised flowerbed, dodged around a tree, scrambled over a bench.

There was only one thing on his mind: getting back to Aziraphale.

Well, two things. Getting back to Aziraphale, and doing it without turning himself into a puddle of beloved demon.

He had to get back there, fast. If he didn’t, Aziraphale would either die or be discorporated. And then Heaven would execute him, and succeed this time.

Bloody sanctimonious angel was the one trying to sacrifice himself now. And while Crowley couldn’t let that happen, he couldn’t get himself killed in the rescue attempt, either. That would break Aziraphale’s heart.

One more hedge parted, and Crowley charged up to the garage. He snapped his fingers to open the door. “Yes! Let’s go.”

The Bentley roared to life at the merest nudge of thought and drove out to meet him. One door flung open, and the familiar beat of “Another One Bites the Dust” filled the air.

“Good car.” Crowley hurled himself into the driver’s seat and floored it. The door slammed shut as he accelerated.

Are you hanging on the edge of your seat?

Hedges parting again, he roared through the garden. The Bentley whipped around flowers, shrubs, trees, gardening tools. The garden could be repaired, and so could the Bentley. But Crowley had learned during Armageddon that he would give up everything for Aziraphale.

Crowley shifted gears again and hurtled up the drive. Aziraphale was fighting four demons, a fifth writhing in flames on the grass. But Aziraphale was losing, the attack pushing him back towards the cottage.

How long can you stand the heat?

With Queen blasting in his ears and a maniacal grin on his face, Crowley raced to the rescue.

---

Aziraphale fought to ignore the throbbing pain in his head, the deep ache in his shoulder. At least he’d taken out the demon wielding a mace. But quite soon, the remaining assailants would overwhelm him.

He scrambled backwards, retreating to give himself time to catch his breath. But the demons followed, and he didn’t know how much longer he could last.

Another one bites the dust
And another one gone and another one gone

Something black hurtled across the grass and collided with the row of demons, knocking them over as if they were bowling pins. Aziraphale gaped, utterly enraptured by the red-headed demon grinning out the window at him.

“Crowley,” he gasped, tears stinging his eyes. Crowley had swept to his rescue again, just like he’d always dreamed about.

And then the Bentley crashed into the garden shed.

Aziraphale was running before he even had time to process what happened. The flaming knife fell from his fingers, but he no longer cared. “Crowley! Crowley!”

The door to the Bentley flew open, and Crowley scrambled out of the wreckage. He fell to his hands and knees in the grass, tried to rise, and fell again. “Aziraphale! Are you okay?”

“Am I…” Hyperventilating, Aziraphale crashed to his knees beside his friend. A lump swelled on Crowley’s forehead, and his poor hand was still burnt, but he otherwise seemed uninjured. “Are… are you…”

Aziraphale reached out desperately, and Crowley caught his hands. Tears ran down the demon’s cheeks, but he smiled. “I’m fine, angel. We’re fine.”

“Oh, my Crowley.” Aziraphale clutched his hands, heart racing. “I was so frightened. I thought I was going to lose you.”

“I know, angel.” Breathing hard, Crowley pulled one hand free. He cupped Aziraphale’s cheek, the touch incredibly tender. “I was scared too. So fucking scared. I can’t lose you.”

“I can’t lose you either.” Sobs wrenched through Aziraphale, and Crowley began to cry in earnest. Weeping from both the fright and sheer relief, they collapsed into each other’s arms.





Ch4



Crowley clutched Aziraphale to him, hot tears pouring down his cheeks. It had been so close. If he’d been just a little slower with the Bentley, or if Aziraphale hadn’t backed up from the demons…

Chills rushed through him, wrenching tremors. Aziraphale hugged him even tighter, sobbing against his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“Nuh. Don’t be sorry.” The trembling wouldn’t stop, or the chills. Despite the fact that warm sun beat down on them, and despite the warmth of Aziraphale’s body in his arms. “Wait. Sorry for what?”

Another sob, and Aziraphale pulled back. He reached to touch Crowley’s cheek, then jerked his hand away. Like he wasn’t sure if it was allowed. “For not believing you. I doubted you, and you could have died.”

“You’re the one who almost died!” Crowley’s heart pounded in his ears, and a fresh wave of tears blurred his vision. “I thought we promised no self-sacrifice.”

“Strictly speaking, neither of us promised.” Aziraphale’s attempt to sound bitchy instead just came out scared and shaken. He wrapped his arms around himself, rocking. “And… and you’re the one who crashed your car. You could have been discorporated, Crowley.”

“I couldn’t lose you.” Crowley crumpled back into a seated position, dropping his head in his hands. Another series of sobs wrenched at him. “Aziraphale, you’re my best friend. I lost you once before, I can’t do it again. It would kill me.”

“Oh…” A trembling hand brushed across his hair, tender. “My dear boy. Don’t you know that I feel precisely the same way?”

“I…” Choked up, Crowley lifted his head. “Yeah. Sort of. I dunno.”

Aziraphale tried to smile, although tears still rolled down his cheeks. “Hardly a ringing endorsement of my affection for you. But I suppose it’s my own fault, for how much I try to bury my feelings.”

“S’ not like I’m any better.” Crowley risked reaching out, running his own fingers across Aziraphale’s soft, fluffy curls. His breath shuddered at the touch, the craving for more and the simultaneous overwhelm. They rarely touched, except today. “Oh, angel. Promise me you’ll never do that again.”

He gazed into the hazel eyes, tears blurring everything. And yet, Aziraphale hesitated. “Dearest… Crowley. I don’t think that either of us ought to make promises we can’t keep.”

Crowley dashed away his tears, hand shaking. “I already said, I can’t lose you. I need you.”

The words slipped out, more profound a declaration than any other. And Aziraphale’s eyes widened, his breath catching.

He reached out, plump fingers tracing across Crowley’s face. Over the wrinkles of desperation in his brow, along his cheekbones, down to even brush across his lips. Aziraphale swallowed hard, shivering at the touch. “I… I need you too, Crowley. I suppose I always have.”

Crowley’s head spun at the words, at the tender touch. He extended his own hand, cradling Aziraphale’s soft cheek again. “You’re my best friend,” he choked. “But that… angel, that doesn’t even come close to summing up how I feel about you.”

It was an absurd time to be having this conversation, with the discorporated husks of demons around them. Smoke still rising from the rose bushes, and the Bentley embedded in the garden shed. But he couldn’t stop himself.

Aziraphale shifted closer in the grass, his breaths shaky. “I… I don’t know what precisely I feel. But it’s… it’s so much. I always dreamed about it, always imagined that you might sweep to my rescue again, and then…”

“Have done,” Crowley said, the words coming out choked. His heart pounded in his ears, so loud. “I always will. I’ll always come to you, Aziraphale. No matter what.”

---

It was the truth. Aziraphale knew that the moment he heard it. Crowley would not lie to him, especially not about this.

And he wouldn’t lie to Crowley, either. Not even when these feelings nearly overwhelmed him, made him want to run and hide.

“I…” Aziraphale trembled at the force of his emotions, of the devotion swelling inside him. He reached out again, brushing his fingertips against Crowley’s beautiful lips. “I want to spend… to spend all eternity with you. Together.”

Crowley’s eyes widened behind the sunglasses, and he caught Aziraphale’s hand. “Yeah,” he choked, and pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s knuckles. “Me too. I…”

“I love you,” Aziraphale said, the words rushing out. He slid even closer on the grass, taking Crowley by his narrow shoulders. “I have loved you as a friend, as my very best friend. But not just as a friend. I want…”

How could he explain it? His friendship with Crowley was everything. But there were other things he wanted, things he was only just beginning to understand. Things he’d never felt for anyone else, never even dreamed of feeling for anyone else.

For once, Crowley didn’t interrupt. He just waited, his lip trembling.

And so Aziraphale pushed on. “I don’t like to say that I want more. Our friendship is the most important thing to me, dearest, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything. I-I don’t want to pressure you. But there are other things I want. I want it to be like… in my romance novels.”

“‘Course you do.” Crowley gave a noise that was half sob, half laugh. He kept his burnt hand tucked against his chest, but he reached out with the other. “I think it’s, er… romance tradition for there to be a big, dramatic kiss after a rescue, right?”

Aziraphale nodded, tears blurring his vision again. He couldn’t breathe, emotion choking him. “Mhm.”

Crowley smiled then, even with everything that had happened. He caressed Aziraphale’s cheek, tender, then leaned in and joined their lips.

A jolt rushed through Aziraphale, and he whimpered into the kiss. Crackling emotion surged through him, simply overwhelming. Should he sink deeper into the contact, or flee?

Crowley drew back, his lower lip clinging to Aziraphale’s for a split second before the kiss ended. He was breathing as hard as Aziraphale, trembling. “Oh, gosh,” he said, voice ragged. “That’s fucking amazing. But it’s so…”

“So much.” Aziraphale let out a shuddering breath, gazing into Crowley’s eyes through the dark lenses. “My dearest love.”

“My angel.” Gulping, Crowley caressed his cheek once more. Then he lowered his hand, a pained noise ripping through him. “Hrgh. M’ really sore.”

“Yes, I am too.” Aziraphale touched a hand to his own head, which was pounding rather dramatically. “May I tend to your poor hand?”

Crowley nodded, letting him take it. He hissed sharply, shuddered. “It’s not that bad, really.”

“Mhm.” Aziraphale carefully healed it, washing away the burn with a miracle. Then he blew out a long breath, looking around. “The rose bushes are still on fire.”

“Guh. I think they’re just smoking. Better be just smoking.” Crowley dragged a hand through sweat damp hair, shoving it off his brow. “But yeah. I guess maybe we should patch things up a little before any more big heartfelt conversations.”

Aziraphale pouted at him. “But we can have more big, heartfelt conversations later? And… and kisses?”

That brought a lazy grin to Crowley’s face. “As many kisses as we want, angel. Promise.”

---

Crowley rose, unsteady, and looked around at their home. Smoke rose from the garden, and he shuddered at the smell of it. “Okay, I’d better go see about the hedges. I don’t want that fire to spread if there’s any left.”

But Aziraphale’s palm slammed into his chest, halting him. “Absolutely not. There is far, far too much holy water over there for you to go anywhere near it.”

“Oh. Shit.” Anxiety twisted in Crowley’s gut. “But angel, that’s my garden.”

“Don’t fret, my dear.” A blush crept through Aziraphale’s cheeks, but he still hadn’t lowered his hand. “It won’t take me long to clean up. I just need to purge the remaining holiness from that area.”

Was that true? Crowley swallowed hard, trembling. “But you blessed the water, enough to take out all the demons. Did you bless all the water on the property?”

Finally dropping his hand, Aziraphale smiled and ducked his head. He gazed up shyly through his lashes. “Not at all, no. In fact, I hardly blessed any water at all.”

Crowley frowned, confused. “Wot?”

Aziraphale’s smile widened. He folded his hands primly and met Crowley’s gaze, expression full of pride. “Only the water already in the hose itself was holy.”

“You…” Astounded, Crowley gaped at him. “You were bluffing? When you threatened to spray the other demons?”

“I was indeed.” The brilliance of Aziraphale’s smile made Crowley’s head spin. “And I succeeded! It was quite exciting.”

Crowley laughed, crossing his arms. “No fair! When I tried to bluff Hastur, he caught me. You’re cooler than I am.”

“Mm, well. While I do appreciate the compliments…” Aziraphale gave a delighted little wiggle. “You are the one who ran over evil demons with your car. It was quite exciting and very cool, worthy of James Bond!”

“Yeah?” Crowley grinned. And then his stomach wrenched again. “Shit, I better take care of my Bentley. I’ll handle that, you get rid of the holy water?”

Aziraphale nodded. But before he could turn away, Crowley caught his lapels and pulled him in for a kiss. Not a long kiss—the contact still went through him like a lightning strike—but a kiss nonetheless.

While Aziraphale tended to the garden, Crowley squeezed into the Bentley and backed it out of the shed. The remnants of demon corporations sprawled on the ground. “Nice work,” Crowley said to his car. “Sorry about the crash. I’ll fix you up, make you shine again.”

The Bentley rumbled appreciatively. Crowley struggled back out, wincing at the soreness, and brushed his fingers along the crumpled metal.

Dents popped out, metal straightened, and the music started back up. The ache in Crowley’s heart eased as he worked, and he let out a long breath. He would sacrifice anything for Aziraphale, even his beloved car, even his garden. But he didn’t have to.

---

Aziraphale ran his hand along the hose, feeling for remaining holiness. But it was gone now, the hose safe again. Theoretically. Perhaps he would make Crowley buy a new one anyway.

“Well, there we are,” he said to the poor smoldering rose bush. “I’ll have Crowley tend to you. I’m not entirely certain how to deactivate his little Sleeping Beauty enchantment.”

Aziraphale smiled to himself, heart aching with affection. Crowley did love taking inspiration from films, and it wasn’t difficult to guess where this had come from. Particularly with those activating words. He truly was a romantic.

Which brought to mind the question of their upcoming discussion. Aziraphale swallowed hard and rose, casting one more miracle to detect holiness. But he’d gotten every trace of it.

There were, however, other things he hadn’t handled yet. Namely, melted demon puddles.

A shudder rushed through him as he gazed down at what had once been Hastur. Aziraphale had always expected to feel simply awful if he ever truly killed anything, even in combat. And yet…

“Angel!” The rose bushes parted, and the Bentley drove through the gap. Crowley waved, sticking his head out the window, then reached to switch off the stereo. “Is it safe yet?”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. The Bentley was in perfect condition again, unlike her owner. “You shouldn’t be driving after bumping your head.”

“Wot, this?” Crowley pointed to the swollen lump on his forehead. “It’s not any worse than yours.”

That was a fair point; Aziraphale’s head still throbbed from getting smacked with the mace. So did his shoulder. “Well, I’m not driving. But yes, the garden is perfectly safe now.”

“Aside from that.” Crowley shuddered, expression darkening as he stared at the drifting smoke. “S’ why I’m here. Get in, angel. I don’t want you near fire.”

“Strictly speaking, I’m nowhere near fire.” The hole blasted in the hedges was indeed smoking, but no longer ablaze. “Did you enchant the entire garden to be able to extinguish itself, as well?”

“And the cottage.” But Crowley was going awfully pale and drawn, the same look he got if Aziraphale so much as mentioned real candles. “Aziraphale. Please.”

Unable to bear seeing Crowley upset—and feeling it, a wave of it rising from him to blur with his constant affection—Aziraphale climbed into the Bentley. “I’ve deconsecrated the water and checked to ensure there’s no trace of holiness anywhere in the garden. I suppose we ought to deal with the puddles of demon…”

Crowley perked up a little. “Can I put what’s left of Hastur in the compost?”

“I don’t think that would be very healthy for your plants, no.” Aziraphale flicked a hand, vanishing the remains from physical existence. “Did you do anything with the discorporated demons on the lawn?”

“Not yet, no.” Crowley shifted gears and rolled forward, the rose bushes parting obligingly for them.

The Bentley puttered through the garden, and Aziraphale glanced at his friend. His…

What was Crowley, precisely? His boyfriend? His partner?

Crowley was everything, no matter the term.

Aziraphale let out a shaky exhale as the Bentley skidded to a halt in the garage. “I think I’m very ready for some tea.”

“I’m very ready for some extremely strong scotch.” Groaning, Crowley climbed out of the car. He paused just outside the garage, held out a hand, and raised his eyebrow. “Mm?”

Trembling, Aziraphale took his hand. The contact brought immediate tears to his eyes, and he clung tightly to the slender hand. “Oh, Crowley.”

“S’ all right, angel.” Crowley’s breaths shook, his eyes full of emotion behind the dark lenses. “C’mon. Let’s put our home back together.”

They walked hand in hand alongside the cottage, both directing miracles to repair the damage. The outside of the kitchen was still smoking slightly, but no longer on fire. Windows broken, the door blown off its hinges.

But all easily repairable, albeit upsetting. Holding hands with Crowley made it easier to bear, the solid contact a reassurance. No matter what had happened to their home, they still had each other.

“Okay, garden shed…” Crowley waved his free hand, and the poor shed reconstructed itself. “I think that’s everything except the garden itself.”

“Mm.” Aziraphale pointed to the last cracks in the living room windows, mending them. “And the discorporated demon bodies.”

“Oh yeah.” Infernal power warmed the air again, and the bodies vanished. “Okay. Garden next.”

“Ah, about that.” Curious, Aziraphale turned to his demon. “How exactly do you deactivate your enchanted rose bushes?”

Crowley’s cheeks flushed red, and he cleared his throat as he stepped up to the nearest rose bush. He pricked his finger on a thorn, then spoke in a voice trembling with emotion. “And they lived happily ever after.”

A shimmer of energy flashed through the garden, and it was as if the whole area had just let out a sigh of relief. The rose bushes disentangled and shrank to their usual positions, thorns retracted to the normal length. Flowers bloomed all around, bursts of color.

“Oh…” Aziraphale favored Crowley with a soft smile, so in love that he could hardly breathe. “That’s very sweet, my dear.”

“Hrgh. S’ embarrassing.” Still blushing, Crowley dragged a hand through his messy hair. He glanced sideways at Aziraphale, then tugged a rose free of the bush. His thumb slid up the stem, and the thorns vanished completely. “Here. For my favorite angel.”

He held it out, expression hopeful and lip trembling slightly. Aziraphale took it, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Oh, Crowley. Thank you so much, my… my love.”

Crowley gulped, then reached out. He brushed his fingertips along Aziraphale’s cheek and leaned in. They kissed then, very tenderly, and it seemed that perhaps everything really would be okay.





Ch5



“I do think I need that tea,” Aziraphale said as they stepped back into the kitchen. He looked around, instinctively checking for threats. But no, it really was just them now. “Would you like some?”

Crowley nodded, getting a vase for Aziraphale’s rose. “Yeah, all right. Want me to just miracle the tea?”

“No, no. I think I’d like to do it the usual way.” A shiver ran through Aziraphale, and he gave an apologetic smile. “I often find it rather soothing. But perhaps you could get… oh, I don’t know, some biscuits?”

“Shortbread?” Crowley asked hopefully, and Aziraphale nodded. That sounded as good as anything.

In fact, though, nothing sounded particularly good right now. Not even tea. His tummy was still rather upset, even after the lovely kissing, and he couldn’t stop shaking.

He brought the water to boil with a quick miracle, then fumbled with his bag of loose-leaf tea. But terrible trembling rushed through his hands as he tried to fill the first infuser. Dried leaves scattered all over the counter. “Oh, bother!”

Still quaking, he tried again, and nearly knocked the entire bag off the counter. Crowley caught his hands, stilling them within his own. “Shhh, s’ okay. Why don’t you let me do that?”

“Oh…” Lip trembling, Aziraphale pressed his brow to Crowley’s. Tears blurred his vision again, and he nearly sobbed. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I’m being so, so silly.”

“No, you’re not.” Crowley’s lips brushed against his cheek. “C’mere. Can I give you a hug?”

Sniffling, Aziraphale nodded and leaned forward. He wrapped his arms around Crowley’s trim waist, pressing his face into the black jacket. “I’m sorry for being all dramatic, my dear.”

“You’re not being dramatic.” Crowley hugged him tight, rubbing his back. “This was all fucking awful. Stop being an arsehole to yourself and let me comfort you.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Within the circle of his arms, Aziraphale already felt calmer. He shut his eyes, melting into the embrace. Oh, it all had been so, so scary. But this was much better, much safer.

Slow, soothing circles rubbed across his back, and Crowley swayed just a bit. A gentle rocking motion, like a ship in calm seas. And although Aziraphale rarely slept, he could have easily fallen asleep.

Perhaps that was something else they could try someday. It sounded rather fun, in fact. He’d thought about that on occasion, about following Crowley to bed. But of course, he’d always dismissed such ideas as mere silliness.

“This is so nice,” Aziraphale murmured against Crowley’s shoulder, still not opening his eyes. “I never anticipated quite how lovely hugs would be. I-I mean, we have hugged before, but…”

“Not like this.” With a slow exhale, Crowley tucked his chin into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. “Those were just… quick and impulsive, friendly hugs. This is… intimate? Gah. Sorry, that might have been the wrong thing to say.”

Aziraphale chuckled at the awkwardness in his tone, especially as it paired with Crowley’s hug tightening. It seemed his serpent was rather a constrictor. “No, my dear. I think that was quite the right thing to say, in fact.”

“Hn. Good.” Crowley let out a contented hum, rocking him slowly again. “Want me to make that tea now? Or longer hugs?”

Oh goodness. Aziraphale smiled, cinching his arms tighter around Crowley. “Do you know, that’s an alarmingly difficult decision.”

“I know. S’ why I kicked it to you.” Crowley’s chest fluttered with soft laughter, and he kissed Aziraphale’s neck. “We can always hug more sitting down. I’m, er, kinda sore.”

“Oh! Oh yes, of course. I-I suppose I am too, but…” Smiling, Aziraphale drew back. His entire body ached with the need for even longer hugs, but it also ached from being hit with a mace. “I did enjoy that very, very much.”

“Me too.” Crowley’s hands were shaking too, but he carefully filled the infusers and poured hot water into their mugs. He pulled off his sunglasses and gave Aziraphale a soft smile. “You want any milk in yours?”

“Yes, please.” Aziraphale didn’t always take milk, but a bit was rather soothing when he was upset.

He wasn’t upset now, precisely, but still shaken. Rather than contributing at all, he simply leaned against the counter and watched Crowley prepare tea and shortbread.

The demon lined up bars of shortbread, compulsively tapping them into alignment with each other. And then he began almost absently moving things around on the countertop, as if preparing to wash the whole thing down.

Aziraphale caught his arm. “My dear. I know we’re both a bit on edge, but I’d prefer to drink our tea and talk rather than watch you clean the kitchen.”

“Wot? Oh.” With a somewhat alarmed expression, Crowley delicately set a bowl of bananas back down. “Sorry, didn’t really realize I was doing that. Restless, me.”

“You always are.” Which was one of the things Aziraphale adored about him. Crowley was always so very active, so engaged, so passionate. So intense.

“Okay, we’re ready to go.” Crowley shoved the milk back in the icebox, then flicked a hand and miracled their tea and shortbread to the living room. He held out his hand and lifted an eyebrow.

Aziraphale twined his fingers with the slim ones, and they moved to the sofa together. Neither of them let go as they drank their tea, although it was a bit overwhelming to be in contact for so long. But oh, so lovely.

After several minutes of silent companionship, Crowley sighed. “So, uh… I guess we should talk, yeah?”

“Yes, rather. Um.” Aziraphale glanced at him. Crowley was almost vibrating with nervousness. “Or-or-or we could simply kiss and avoid ever talking about our emotions.”

Crowley’s shoulders relaxed, and he laughed. He squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, then let go and leaned back. “Tempting as that is, we should probably talk. First off, are you okay?”

“Um.” Aziraphale spun his signet ring, unsure how to even begin to evaluate that. “Well. I’m very happy that you seem to, er, share my feelings.”

“I definitely share your feelings.” Hand still shaky, Crowley reached to stroke his hair. But then his expression grew serious, worried. “But that’s not what I’m asking about. You killed at least a few demons, Aziraphale. You killed Hastur. And I know you’d never done that before. Killed anything, I mean.”

Aziraphale smiled, heart warmed by his concern. “You have.”

“Well, yeah. But I’m not you.” Crowley studied him, jaw working. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly, no. I’d rather discuss us.” But Aziraphale took a moment to think on it anyway. “I feel, well, okay about disposing of those horrible beings. Hastur was planning to kill me and then torture my… my very best friend. My beloved. I can’t regret destroying someone like that.”

“Your beloved?” Crowley asked, a smile twitching onto his face.

“Yes. My beloved.” On sudden impulse, Aziraphale leaned to kiss him.

Crowley met him eagerly, making a soft noise of need as their lips slid lightly together. Not precisely tentative now, but gentle. Still exploring, still learning.

It wasn’t quite as overwhelming now, no longer like a bolt of lightning that Aziraphale could only enjoy for a few seconds. He leaned into it, his own whine of need slipping out as he caressed Crowley’s cheek.

By the time they drew apart, his heart was beating faster for an entirely different reason. “Oh, oh my. That was quite… alluring.”

“I’d certainly hope so.” Still turned to face him, Crowley leaned against the back of the sofa. There was an almost lazy smile on his face, deeply happy. “I’d hate to think watching Bond kiss all those girls had been for naught.”

Aziraphale giggled, ducking his head. Oh, he just felt so warm when he was around Crowley, especially now that nothing need be hidden. “Well, in truth, I have rather fantasized about that. I always thought I was just being silly, that we were just good friends.”

“We are good friends,” Crowley said, still smiling. “That’s not gonna go away just because we get, er…”

Aziraphale lifted an eyebrow, mouth suddenly dry as the idea of saying it sent a fresh blaze of nervousness through him. “Romantically involved?”

His voice shook as he asked the question, sudden doubt rushing back in. What if he’d misread, and that wasn’t what Crowley wanted?

But Crowley reached to take his hand, thumb grazing lightly across his knuckles. “Yeah. I dunno exactly, er, how all that works. But yeah, angel. I love you, and I want to… to be with you.”

Aziraphale’s heart ached at the sweet simplicity of that desire, a desire that so well matched his own. “I want to be with you too, Crowley. Always. I love you so, so very much.”

A wide, brilliant grin spread across Crowley’s face. “I love you too.”

He captured Aziraphale’s lips in another kiss, this one passionate and intense and even a bit spicy. Aziraphale kissed him back with enthusiasm, pressing closer. Crowley’s hand curled around the back of his head, drawing him deeper into the affection.

This time when they separated, Aziraphale didn’t pull back. He just sank into Crowley’s arms, into the safety and security. Today might have gone entirely different. They could have so, so easily lost each other.

Crowley kissed his neck, hand moving across his back in big circles. “All right, angel?”

“Quite happy.” Which wasn’t entirely the same thing. “Could, um… could you just hold me for a while, Crowley? I’m still a bit shaken by, well. Events.”

“Hn. Me too, I guess. Today was a lot.” Crowley’s arms tightened around him, reassuring. “But hey, at least it got us talking about our feelings.”

Aziraphale gave a weak chuckle, hugging him back. “It does seem to take Earth-shattering events to coax us into doing so. I think communication is perhaps the first thing we ought to work on.”

With a chuckle of his own, Crowley nuzzled into his shoulder. “Probably a good idea.”

---

Hugging was basically the best thing in all Creation. Kissing was fantastic, and Crowley eagerly looked forward to more of it. But hugging…

Oh gosh, he could just do this forever.

He and Aziraphale had been holding each other for over an hour, now leaning against the sofa back. When did it stop being a hug and qualify as cuddling?

He brushed his lips to Aziraphale’s head, savoring the comfortable embrace. Aziraphale was so soft and cushy, and Crowley’s hands itched to better explore his body.

They’d been naked around each other, of course, most notably at the Roman baths. Crowley had found Aziraphale incredibly gorgeous even then, although he hadn’t let himself dwell on those feelings. But those thighs, and forearms, and stomach…

Crowley’s cheeks burned, and he winced at himself for what he was about to say. But he couldn’t resist. “Er, can I ask you something that might be kinda awkward? You don’t have to say yes.”

“Oh my, how intriguing.” With a chuckle, Aziraphale hugged him tighter. “You may certainly ask, my dear.”

“Can I, uh…” Oh Somebody, this was so embarrassing. Crowley hid his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Can I kiss your belly?”

A pause, and then Aziraphale drew back. He gave Crowley a shy, sweet look and pulled up his jumper.

His belly spilled over the front of his trousers, all softness. Crowley gently brushed his fingertips along the curves, breaths hitching. “You are just gorgeous, angel.”

“You’re very sweet, my dear.”

“M’ not sweet.” Crowley bent and kissed Aziraphale’s stomach a few times, then just rested his cheek against the ample swell. “Gosh, angel. You make an amazing pillow.”

“The very heights of my aspirations.” Aziraphale sounded amused. His fingers slid through Crowley’s hair, slow and gentle. That, too, felt amazing. “I, um… was thinking that perhaps later we can sleep together.”

Lightning jolted through Crowley again and he jerked his head back. “Wot? Seriously?”

Aziraphale’s cheeks went bright red, and he flailed. “Oh, oh! I’m sorry, I mean… I’d like to try, um, taking a nap together. I-I don’t generally sleep, and…”

“Ohh. Yeah, sure.” Slightly disappointed, Crowley offered a smile. “I’d love that. Can really use you as a pillow, huh?”

“You’re more than welcome to use me as a pillow any time.” Aziraphale patted his belly. A certain hesitation tugged at his face, and he reached to brush his fingers against Crowley’s thigh. “But, um… I would be interested in, um…”

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley’s groin, and heat flushed through him. Oh wow. “I’m also interested in ‘um’. But if I could suggest something, angel?”

Cheeks still burning red, Aziraphale stuffed shortbread into his mouth and nodded. Somehow, he was even more beautiful when so embarrassed.

“I, uh… I’d love to sleep together, in every sense of the phrase.” Crowley smiled at his angel, reaching to cup his warm cheek. “But maybe we should take things slow, yeah? We get overwhelmed just from kissing. Think we might actually explode if we tried sex.”

Somehow, Aziraphale went even redder. His throat rolled as he swallowed his shortbread, and he reached to take Crowley’s hand. “It is admittedly rather tempting to find out. But yes, I-I would rather take things slow. I’ve never…”

Aziraphale gestured vaguely, and Crowley leaned to kiss his brow. “Me neither. Never been interested in anyone except you.”

“Oh, oh. I feel quite the same.” Aziraphale gave a little wiggle, beaming. “I very, very much look forward to exploring that with you, my love.”

Heart aching with affection, Crowley pulled him into another kiss. Slow and deep, taking their time. All the chaos earlier seemed far away now, as if there had never been anything but this moment.

When at last they drew apart, Crowley caressed Aziraphale’s cheek. “So. I think we already kind of tried this with our hug, but you wanna snuggle? I used to think about it sometimes, when we’d sit on the sofa together.”

“Ooh, that sounds so lovely.” Still smiling brilliantly, Aziraphale laid back and coaxed Crowley to lie down with him. They snuggled close together, arms around each other. “Oh, oh. I think I’d like to do this all the time.”

“I’m game.” Crowley shut his eyes, resting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “We’ve got time for everything. We can try whatever we want, y’know. Just say the word.”

Aziraphale sifted through his hair, light and careful. “I know you like to say you’re not sweet, but you really are. You’re so very caring, considerate, loving…”

“Oy, stop that. M’ not any of those things.” But Crowley couldn’t stop smiling.

“And so gentle…” A kiss pressed to his head. “And you always do such nice things for me, like—”

Shock jolted through Crowley, and he tried to scramble upright. “Shit!”

“What?” Aziraphale caught his shoulders, eyes wide and alarmed. “What’s wrong? Are we in danger? Are the demons back?”

“Nonono, sorry. Nothing like that.” Irritated with himself, Crowley ground his teeth. “It’s just that I was so busy obsessing earlier that I forgot to bring your paper in. I didn’t give you your crossword.”

Aziraphale’s lips twitched, his eyebrows lifting. And then he began to laugh, a light sound that took Crowley’s breath away. “Oh, my dear. My crossword has never been less on my mind. Come back to snuggle, hmm?”

“Nnnh, okay.” Chuckling, Crowley flopped back down. He rubbed Aziraphale’s soft stomach, savoring each touch. “I guess there’ll be plenty of other days to bring in your crossword.”





Chapter 6



One year later


The smooth slide of Crowley’s hands, the brush of his lips. His smoky scent all around, filling Aziraphale’s senses. Moving together, joined in body and soul.

Birdsong intruded into the bliss, and Aziraphale opened his eyes. He was curled on his side under a tartan blanket, Crowley’s arm and leg draped across him. The heavy contentment of sleep lingered… but so did the arousal of the dream.

He brushed his lips to Crowley’s brow, then to the space just between his eyes. Down the bridge of his nose, and finally joined their lips.

With a sleepy noise, Crowley stirred and responded. He kissed back, motions a little clumsy, and ran his hand down Aziraphale’s side. “Morning, angel,” he mumbled.

“Good morning, dear boy.” Aziraphale kissed him again, then drew back and smoothed messy hair off his brow. “I was having the most lovely dream.”

“Yeah?” Crowley stretched, long body rippling, and then pushed up. He kissed Aziraphale again, hand drifting down across his belly. “What about?”

Aziraphale took his hand and guided it lower, and Crowley chuckled. His long fingers went to work, and Aziraphale let out a soft moan of pleasure. “Oh yes, my dear. That’s precisely what I was dreaming about. And when I woke up, I was, well… standing at attention.”

Crowley snorted at his wording and shoved the tartan blanket out of the way, then slid down to take Aziraphale in his mouth.

They made love, slow and tender. Utterly unhurried, taking their time just as they had often done since adding different types of intimacy to their relationship. Snuggling had turned to long sessions making out, making out had turned to learning to bring each other pleasure.

As their bodies moved together, they murmured affectionate words to each other. But there was no need for words, not once Crowley initiated a different type of intimacy. His True Form joined with Aziraphale’s, moving deep inside him at the same rhythm as his corporation.

The resonance built, emotions heightened by the fusion. Aziraphale opened himself, accepting Crowley deeper, basking in the flood of love and passion. Crowley’s shadowy essence met his golden light, and the explosion of an angel and demon joining their deepest selves together carried them to the very heights of ecstasy.

---

“I love you.” Crowley murmured the words against Aziraphale’s belly, as he’d done a million times since they first declared their devotion. He never tired of saying them. “My angel.”

“Mmmm.” Aziraphale hadn’t moved since their lovemaking, just lying on his back with his eyes closed and a thoroughly sated smile on his face. Crowley had cleaned them both up with a miracle, so there really was no rush to move.

He kissed Aziraphale’s belly again, hand drifting along the curve of his thigh. He’d taken ample opportunities to touch his angel everywhere earlier, to delight in the beauty of his soft body, but he could never get enough. He would be happy to do this all day. Had done, in the past.

He showered more kisses across Aziraphale’s stomach, then slithered up to give the same attention to his chest, his well-padded shoulders, the soft underside of his jaw. “Angel.”

“Mm?”

“We should, er…” Another kiss, this to his cheek. “Maybe should get up sometime.”

The hazel eyes cracked open, picking up hints of blue from the curtains. “And why, pray tell, would we do that?”

Because Crowley had something planned. “You haven’t made coffee for me yet. Morning feels incomplete without it.”

Aziraphale smiled, hand coming down to scritch through Crowley’s hair. “Strictly speaking, I’m not certain it is morning anymore. We have been in bed for rather a long time.”

“Hrgh.” Crowley pushed into the touch, the talented movements of Aziraphale’s fingers across his scalp. “You’re not playing fair, you bastard. You know I can’t resist that.”

“I am fully aware, dear boy.” Aziraphale’s voice rang with smugness. “As I said. I’m very comfortable.”

“Nnnnnh…” Crowley almost gave in, almost agreed to stay in bed. But it would be worth getting up for this. “How about more later? I’ll even groom your wings, if you like.”

“Ooh. Well, all right. I suppose letting you up in exchange for wing grooming is quite fair.” With a chuckle, Aziraphale smoothed his hair back into some sort of order. “Why so eager to get out of bed? Are you planning on a drive?”

“Not today, no. But I wanna make sure I grab your paper before the ducks steal it again.” After rolling out of bed, Crowley shrugged into his favorite Golden Girls t-shirt and a pair of comfy black jeans. “Little buggers get in a mood if I don’t give them their snacks.”

“Mmm. Don’t forget your sunglasses.” Aziraphale still hadn’t budged, just smiling up at Crowley from bed. He looked like a work of art, and Crowley’s hands itched to dig out his art supplies. He could paint Aziraphale just like that, sated and happy and beautifully nude.

He should. He would. But not right now.

On his way outside, Crowley grabbed his sunglasses and the duck feed. He stepped out to the sound of insistent quacking and rolled his eyes. “Yes, all right, hang on. I know you’ve still got food, you greedy bastards.”

At least today they hadn’t stolen the paper. He fed the ducks, then stopped to collect some flowers before heading back inside.

There was one more thing he needed to get from his study. And then everything would be perfect.

---

Humming to himself, Aziraphale prepared tea. He didn’t put on a record, almost certain that Crowley would want to sit and drink his coffee before rushing off to do whatever was on his mind. They sat together most mornings, Crowley gazing at him adoringly during the daily crossword.

And while Aziraphale loved puzzling out the clues, it was sometimes rather helpful to have his quite intelligent demon lend a hand. Crowley’s quick, associative thinking and creativity made him an enjoyable partner.

Well. Crowley was an enjoyable partner in every sense of the phrase.

Aziraphale smiled to himself, adding milk to Crowley’s coffee. Their lovemaking earlier had been perfection, the very deepest kind of intimacy. Crowley had been in very good spirits during their meld, strong excitement permeating his essence. And while yes, they had been engaged in driving each other to the heights of passion at the time…

There was still something else. Perhaps he was planning to take Aziraphale out to dinner, or to a special film.

The door banged open and then shut, and Crowley’s footfalls thumped down the hallway. Quick and placed with purpose, and then slower and lighter entering the kitchen. In a good mood, but nervous. “Hi, angel.”

“Hello, my dear.” After adding milk to his own tea, Aziraphale stirred both drinks. “I was thinking of having a nice bite to eat, maybe some scones. Would you like any?”

Crowley flopped into his chair and pulled off his sunglasses. “Nah, m’ good. Thanks, though.”

“Of course. And I do have your coffee.” He carried their drinks to the table, smiling at the roses and love-in-a-mist sitting beside his crossword. “Oh, goodness. Are those for me?”

“Yep. You know I love bringing my angel flowers.” Crowley’s golden eyes gazed at him, intense and full of affection.

Aziraphale had just set the mugs down and relaxed into his chair when he noticed something else. A little wooden box atop his crossword, carved with delicate flowers. “Oh, goodness! Is this for me, too? You made this?”

“Mhm.” Crowley swallowed hard, gaze somehow becoming even more intense. “Open it.”

Hands suddenly trembling, Aziraphale opened the wooden box. Inside was a gold ring, made to look like a serpent. Tiny detailing represented scales, and a slightly brighter gold formed the eyes.

Breathless, Aziraphale lifted his gaze to meet another pain of golden eyes, these ones shimmering with tears. “Crowley…”

Crowley slid out of his chair and went to one knee, taking Aziraphale’s hand. “Angel,” he said, the word full of devotion. “Aziraphale. We’ve been committed to each other for a long time, in one way or another, and we both know how much we love each other. But you said you want things to be like in your romance novels.”

Too choked up to reply, Aziraphale just nodded. Crowley had nearly lost control over his tears too, lip trembling. But he continued.

“You already have every part of me, all my love, and I know I have yours. But I wanna be able to call you my husband, too.” A tear slipped down Crowley’s cheek, and he exhaled slowly. “Aziraphale, my angel. Will you marry me?”

Aziraphale sobbed and nodded and laughed all at once, clutching Crowley’s hand. “Oh, C-Crowley, of course I’ll marry you. Oh, my dear, I had… I had no idea you wanted such a thing. That something so… so human would appeal to you.”

“I want to have you in every way possible.” Crowley kissed his hand fiercely, then took the ring and gently slipped it on his finger. He grinned and gave a tempting little side to side sway. “And I think you could say our whole relationship is built on human stuff appealing to us.”

And then Crowley burst into tears, sobbing even as he smiled. Aziraphale rose, pulled him to his feet, and folded him in a hug. His own tears fell hard, tears of utter joy. “Oh, my sweet old serpent. I love you so.”

“Hhhn, sorry about this.” Crowley was trying to wipe his eyes and hug Aziraphale at the same time, and he finally settled for pressing his face into Aziraphale’s hair. “Didn’t mean to get all emotional. But I just love you so fucking much.”

More sobs burst out, and Aziraphale smiled as he rocked his… “Um, Crowley? A question.”

Crowley hugged him tighter, then drew back and cupped his cheek. “Sure, angel. Anything.”

Aziraphale gazed up at him, at the demon he loved more than anything in all Creation. “Do we have to wait until we have some sort of, well, ceremony? Before we can call each other husbands, I mean.”

The lopsided grin on Crowley’s face grew ever wider, and he gave another sway. “We’re free now. We can do whatever we like. Nobody’s gonna tell my husband what he can call me.”

Emotion slammed into Aziraphale’s chest at the sound of that, and he had to close his eyes for a moment to simply bask in it. And then he opened his eyes again and slid his fingers through Crowley’s hair. “In that case… I’d very much like it if my husband kissed me now.”

Crowley caressed his cheek, each second of contact full of love. “And they lived happily ever after,” he murmured.

Then Crowley drew Aziraphale into a kiss, tender and passionate and romantic. Aziraphale sank into his embrace, very happy indeed. Life with Crowley was everything he’d ever dreamed.

Link to Gift 2

Comments

Once upon a dream

[(Anonymous)]

Oh my goodness, this is perfect. This is HolRose here (I don’t have an account). Author you put everything in here that I just adore. I loved the beginning with them both pining yet all the domestic detail was so wonderful, how they were taking care of each other so well. The build-up to the threat was brilliant, with them both doubting they were hearing anything. I adored the little touches of humour all through this, so nicely done. Then the peril arrived and they were both so incredibly protective and brave for each or they, which is just the best thing. I really loved the love confessions and their relief at still having each other, then understanding that they are the most important thing to each other. You added some beautiful intimacy and metaphysical mingling (which I think is the sweetest most beautiful thing ever). This was such a delight, and it’s so generous of you to write for all the prompts. Thank you! Thank you! Have a fabulous festive season. I will comment on the other two stories too, as soon as I have read them. <3 <3 <3

Once upon a dream

[(Anonymous)]

Oh my goodness, this is perfect. This is HolRose here (I don’t have an account). Author you put everything in here that I just adore. I loved the beginning with them both pining yet all the domestic detail was so wonderful, how they were taking care of each other so well. The build-up to the threat was brilliant, with them both doubting they were hearing anything. I adored the little touches of humour all through this, so nicely done. Then the peril arrived and they were both so incredibly protective and brave for each or they, which is just the best thing. I really loved the love confessions and their relief at still having each other, then understanding that they are the most important thing to each other. You added some beautiful intimacy and metaphysical mingling (which I think is the sweetest most beautiful thing ever). This was such a delight, and it’s so generous of you to write for all the prompts. Thank you! Thank you! Have a fabulous festive season. I will comment on the other two stories too, as soon as I have read them. <3 <3 <3

Once upon a dream

[(Anonymous)]

Oh my goodness, this is perfect. This is HolRose here (I don’t have an account). Author you put everything in here that I just adore. I loved the beginning with them both pining yet all the domestic detail was so wonderful, how they were taking care of each other so well. The build-up to the threat was brilliant, with them both doubting they were hearing anything. I adored the little touches of humour all through this, so nicely done. Then the peril arrived and they were both so incredibly protective and brave for each or they, which is just the best thing. I really loved the love confessions and their relief at still having each other, then understanding that they are the most important thing to each other. You added some beautiful intimacy and metaphysical mingling (which I think is the sweetest most beautiful thing ever). This was such a delight, and it’s so generous of you to write for all the prompts. Thank you! Thank you! Have a fabulous festive season. I will comment on the other two stories too, as soon as I have read them. <3 <3 <3

Sorry!

[holrose]

There was a glitch and I ended up posting my comment three times! Apologies! :)

[maniacalmole]

Schubert! I like to think Aziraphale used to go to his music parties
The radish metaphor XD
Oh man from the way they were acting in the beginning I forgot they didn’t know they were a couple yet, this is peak obliviousness from them and it is exactly what I came for
“Another One Bites the Dust” lol
Ooh, I hadn’t seen ‘love-in-a-mist’ flowers before, thanks for giving me a reason to look them up!
“And then something crashed through the window” I love transitions like this haha
“Pain blazed through him, the infernal power fighting back against his miracle.” Oh, wow. I’ve never heard anyone talk about what it took for Crowley to pull off the time-stopping feat, but this is such an interesting way of looking at it, and it makes sense, and I love it even though it hurts.
The roses!
“I don’t think that would be very healthy for your plants, no” gjsdlakfjsd
And all the ending!
This was so fluffy and cozy, thank you :)