Happy Holidays, HolRose! Gift #2
Dec. 4th, 2022 05:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
goe_mod posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
go_exchangeTitle: Cravings
Recipient: HolRose
Rating: T
Pairings: Aziraphale/Crowley
Summary: When Aziraphale’s holiday plans are in jeopardy, Crowley suggests a solution. If the event is only open to married couples, they’ll just pretend to be married! What could possibly go wrong?
“Ooh, this sounds awfully fun.” Aziraphale carefully scrolled on the web page to read the rest of the symposium description. Crowley had brought his fancy laptop computer over today so Aziraphale could look up holiday ideas from anywhere in the shop. “‘A celebration of the love of food and how it brings people together’. Quite tailor made for us, hmm?”
“If food includes beverages, then I’m in.” Crowley’s fingers moved through Aziraphale’s secondaries, carefully aligning the feather barbs. They often groomed each other’s wings these days, a friendly bonding activity.
But Aziraphale often wished it was more. He found himself increasingly intoxicated with Crowley now that they were free, his heart leaping whenever the demon came near. Wing grooming was so intimate, so lovely, and it often made him crave other sorts of affection.
Would Crowley want that sort of thing? Sometimes, Aziraphale almost thought he might. That Crowley’s eyes lit up in the same way, that his voice rang with the same affection. That Crowley loved him too.
But if he did, surely he would have said something by now. It had been three years of freedom, after all. Crowley did love him, just… not in the same way.
“Angel?” Crowley tapped lightly at the base of his wing. “Does that include beverages?”
“Oh! I’m sorry, dear boy. Got a bit distracted.” Cheeks hot, Aziraphale tried again to focus on choosing a holiday destination. “It just, um, feels so nice to have my wings groomed.”
“Yeah, I love it.” Crowley stroked a hand across his coverts, then sifted through them in search of powder down. “Love doing it for you. And love when you do mine.”
Aziraphale’s heart fluttered at the affection in his voice. Even if it wasn’t the same kind of love, it was still wonderful. “Well, I promise I’ll do yours as soon as I’m done here. Let’s see… Beverages are part of the event, yes. There’s a whole page on here dedicated to just the different types of wine.”
“Gosh, that sounds better every second.” Fingers still scritching through Aziraphale’s feathers, Crowley leaned to look over his shoulder. His breath warmed Aziraphale’s neck. “Where’s that at? Hotel?”
“Mhm. So we can stay there too. I’ll book a room.” With two beds.
Because no matter how much Aziraphale might enjoy those silly fantasies, he never wanted Crowley to feel uncomfortable around him. It was so nice to see him so relaxed these days. Sunglasses off when inside, smiling freely, laughing and joking. Aziraphale couldn’t bear the thought of spoiling that.
“Let’s see. Ah, that’s a nice big room, two beds.” Aziraphale read through the description, pleased. It sounded like a lovely place. “I’ll sign up for the symposium first, just in case they offer some sort of a discount or package deal on… Oh.”
Crowley paused, fingers buried in his feathers. “Oh?”
Heart sinking, Aziraphale read the event information again. Food and drink included, a celebration of love.
But only of one sort of love.
He set the laptop computer aside and tugged his wing out of Crowley’s grasp, then gave an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid we can’t go after all, my dear. I’m sorry.”
“Wot? Why?” Crowley asked, tilting his head. “Is it sold out?”
“No, but…” Aziraphale shrugged and stood, shaking his wings to settle the few ruffled feathers back in place. Perhaps he would simply get drunk next. That sounded nice. “The event is only open to married couples.”
Crowley’s golden eyes widened, then narrowed as he frowned. He reached out, smoothing Aziraphale’s coverts. “That’s bloody ridiculous. There’s loads of ways that food can bring people together. And people can be, y’know… together. In ways that don’t involve being married. I mean, look at us. We’re best friends!”
“I know, dear boy. You hardly need to tell me that.” Aziraphale gave a sad smile, twisting his hands together. “I suppose I’ll look for a different holiday destination later.”
“Nonono, screw that.” Crowley stepped in front of him and caught his arms. Startled, Aziraphale looked up into the determined frown. “There’s only one solution to that, angel.”
Aziraphale’s heart lifted for a brief moment, imagination blasting to life. Crowley would sweep him off his feet, kiss him fiercely, declare his undying love. And then they would rush off to get married, and—
“We pretend to be married,” Crowley said with glee, and Aziraphale’s hopes crashed dramatically into flaming wreckage.
“Oh. Oh, but…” Fighting back tears, Aziraphale sighed. “Well, I’m an angel. I shouldn’t lie.”
“I’ll lie for you.” Crowley’s voice had gone awfully soft, and he gave a little tempting side-to-side sway. “It’d be fun, I promise. If you wanna go…”
“I do want to go.” Conflicted, Aziraphale twisted his hands together and gazed at his best friend. Oh, it truly was sweet of Crowley to think up such a plan, and to be willing to implement it. “You’d really lie for me?”
“Of course I will.” Crowley touched his arm again, just a brief reassuring brush of long fingers. “I’d do anything for you, you know that.”
Dishonesty wasn’t the sort of thing an angel ought to find incredibly romantic, but it nearly made Aziraphale swoon. And despite knowing perfectly well that his hopes were rather unrealistic, they insisted on flaring up anyway. What if Crowley did like him romantically, and this was some sort of an elaborate scheme to win his affections?
Aziraphale blushed, heart aching with affection. Although not possibly true, it was a lovely thought. “Oh, very well, you fiend. Bring out your wings, and I’ll groom them while you lie to the hotel.”
---
Crowley smoldered with irritation at the event organizers as he signed up. Blessed website should have been clear about who was welcome up front instead of upsetting his angel like that.
And Aziraphale was Crowley’s angel, his most cherished companion. He would do anything for Aziraphale, no question. Even hide his own feelings.
Some days, though, it was harder than others. Like today, with Aziraphale getting so upset. With just a little less impulse control, Crowley might have actually proposed marriage rather than just faking a relationship.
But what if Aziraphale had said no? Then they both would have been depressed, awkward, and probably unable to talk to each other for weeks or months or even years. That was too high a cost for romance.
“Okay, event’s almost booked, room next.” Crowley paused for a second, closing his eyes to focus on the gentle touch of Aziraphale’s hands. Aziraphale was fussing over his scapular feathers, each touch light and careful. It felt amazing, as always. “Er… got a question for you.”
Aziraphale’s hands paused too, then resumed. “Oh?”
“Sorry if it’s… hn.” Crowley rubbed his forehead, aching at the idea of asking something like this. It might make Aziraphale uncomfortable. “D’ya want me to sign up with Fell or Crowley as our last name?”
There was a little hitch in Aziraphale’s breath, and his hands stalled again. Then he grasped Crowley’s shoulder, the touch solid and surprisingly steady. “There is absolutely no possible way I am forcing you to introduce yourself as ‘Crowley Fell’.”
The sudden assertiveness in his voice—and the consideration—made Crowley lightheaded. He smiled to himself and leaned back into Aziraphale’s touch. “Okay, angel. Thanks.”
“Not at all.” Aziraphale squeezed his shoulder, then went back to delicately smoothing the scapulars. “I’m more than happy to take your name.”
They both froze again. Crowley’s heart thudded in his ears, the rapid beat almost eager. What if Aziraphale really did like him that way?
“Temporarily!” Aziraphale added, voice spiking in pitch. He rustled through Crowley’s feathers again, hands no longer steady. “I’m sorry. I meant temporarily. Borrowing it, as it were.”
“Well, I was pretty sure you weren’t stealing the damned thing.” The attempt at a joke fell flat, and Crowley cleared his throat before continuing to the next awkward question. “Okay. And, er. Room. It’ll be more convincing if we get a room with one big bed…”
He winced at the pathetic sound of that. Oh gosh, hopefully Aziraphale wouldn’t take that as a proposition. Even if it almost was.
“Oh, that’s perfectly fine.” Aziraphale patted his wing, then smoothed the section he’d just ruffled. “I don’t sleep anyway. As long as there’s a comfy armchair or sofa, I’ll be perfectly content.”
“Okay. So, I guess that’s our problems solved, then.” Except for the problem that pretending to be married to Aziraphale was going to make it much, much harder not to say anything stupid. And one other problem. “We should probably, uh… We’re gonna need wedding rings.”
Once again, Aziraphale’s hands stalled. “Ah. Well. I have some old jewelry floating around somewhere upstairs. I’m relatively certain there’s some rings in there that ought to work. Just simple bands, I think.”
It would be amazing to actually buy rings, to pick them out with care, but it was also an awful idea. “Sounds good, angel.”
As he booked the room, Crowley fretted. You go too fast for me, Crowley. The words looped in his mind again and again, relentless. They hadn’t been a rejection at the time, only a “not yet”, and Crowley had known it at the time. Understood, even. He’d been disappointed, but not angry.
But still. It had only been a few years since they gained their freedom, compared to five hundred years to tempt Aziraphale into the Arrangement. Spending this much time together and grooming each other’s wings was way more than Crowley could have hoped for.
Pretending to be married was also way more than Crowley could have hoped for, and he wanted to enjoy it. Awkward, maybe, but… “I think this’ll be fun.”
Aziraphale sighed and ran a final smoothing stroke across his feathers, then moved to sit beside him. “I’m a bit nervous, actually. What if I’m simply awful at it, and they realize we’re lying?”
“Nah, it’ll be great. It’s gonna be like in Bond,” Crowley said cheerfully. “You love spy stuff. I love spy stuff. We’ll be great at it.”
---
Aziraphale was going to die of embarrassment. All the couples checking into the hotel were practically hanging on each other, flirting and giggling and holding hands. The two men nearest them seemed to be trying to fuse their faces together.
Beside him, Crowley made a strangled noise. “I really didn’t think about the whole… PDA thing.”
Confused, Aziraphale looked to him. “The what?”
“Public displays of affection.” Crowley gulped, looking around with intense anxiety. Aziraphale’s spirits sank lower. Crowley wouldn’t be so distressed by the idea if he harbored secret romantic feelings.
“I-I suppose… we could likely get away with holding hands?” Aziraphale suggested. There were a few couples doing that, or standing with their arms linked. “We’ve done handshakes in the past. This wouldn’t really be different, just longer.”
The corner of Crowley’s mouth twitched into a smile, but he was shifting his weight anxiously from foot to foot. “Yeah, all right. Hold hands.”
He reached out, lifting an eyebrow. Suddenly trembling, Aziraphale took his hand.
It was like being knocked over, the touch utterly overwhelming. So intense. Aziraphale couldn’t remotely parse these emotions, couldn’t understand them. He wanted to cling to Crowley’s hand, to never let go. But he also, oddly enough, felt like crying.
He blinked the tears away and let out a shaky breath. A tingling sensation swept from his hand through the whole rest of his body. Overwhelming craving, a thousand times stronger than what he’d ever felt for food or drink or even books. Even stronger than the desire he’d had for Agnes Nutter’s book.
Crowley’s breath hitched, then settled back out. He gave a slight smile, expression cool and unaffected. “See? No big deal.”
Aziraphale wanted to cry. It was a big deal, such a big deal. The idea that this meant nothing to Crowley… simply unbearable.
But his breath had caught for just a moment. Oh Lord, what if that was because he found it unpleasant?
“You all right?” Crowley asked, brow deeply furrowed. Aziraphale couldn’t see his eyes through the sunglasses, but he knew they would be full of concern. Because Crowley really was so kind, so caring. “We can try something else if you don’t like this.”
“No, no, it’s fine. No big deal.” Aziraphale managed a smile.
They waited like that, hands joined, and Aziraphale struggled to control himself. It would be so nice to do more, even just to lay his head on Crowley’s shoulder, but what if that was too much? That could bring everything to the surface, lay his emotions bare.
But oh, he wanted to lay them bare. To tell Crowley how he felt, how much he loved him. To hug him, and kiss him, and perhaps even fall into bed with him.
Their single, big bed.
Oh Lord.
As they reached the counter, Aziraphale tried to look relaxed and adoring. Relaxation was nearly impossible, but he was rather an expert at adoring.
Crowley drew himself up, sliding into what Aziraphale immediately recognized as his Bond impression. Very cool, very collected, utterly certain of himself. “Hi, one couple checking in. Anthony J. Crowley, Aziraphale Z. Crowley.”
The clerk looked them over, and Aziraphale took a risk. He brought his other hand to Crowley’s arm, lightly rubbing up and down in a hopefully natural manner. “We’re so, so very excited for this. I do love food.”
“He does.” Crowley flashed a lazy grin, although his hand trembled in Aziraphale’s grasp. “I presume there’s something for me to sign?”
As Crowley went through the check-in process, Aziraphale struggled to maintain his bright smile. He couldn’t afford to let the façade drop, especially not when surrounded by all these happy couples. Must seem as though this was perfectly natural.
But oh, being this close to Crowley was torture. It would be so easy to lean over just a bit more, to press tender kisses along his sharp jawline. Or to reach up and smooth that lock of hair off his brow. All things that would be perfectly acceptable for a married couple.
Stopping there would be the trouble. Each moment of touch stoked the fires of Aziraphale’s emotions higher, until he found himself lightheaded. He took a deep breath to steady himself, and Crowley’s warm scent of smoke and burnt matches flooded his senses.
A familiar smell, one that normally made Aziraphale feel wonderfully comfortable and at home. But now, it only made the cravings worse. He could scarcely stop himself from dragging Crowley into a kiss.
Crowley leaned over, and Aziraphale automatically turned into the motion. Their cheeks brushed together, and tingling desire rushed through him. Oh goodness, he needed to calm down.
“We’re good,” Crowley murmured into his ear. Hot breath on his neck, thin fingers tightening on his. “Is it okay if I kiss your cheek? Just so we look convincing.”
Unable to answer with words, Aziraphale nodded. Crowley drew back a little, smiled nervously, and then pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s cheek. The lightest bit of contact for only a split second, but it was enough that Aziraphale’s legs went weak.
Crowley cleared his throat and straightened up, then tugged Aziraphale into motion. He gave Aziraphale a helplessly lost look. “Sorry. I just… If we wanna sell this, we… hrgk.”
“Oh, oh, it’s quite all right.” Aziraphale instinctively patted his arm again, then regretted it as another overwhelming surge of need slammed into him. His whole body was trembling, as if he was about to explode from the contact. “Believe me, my dear. I am quite committed to this as well. I won’t get to sample the yummy foods if we get caught!”
He managed to beam again, ignoring the deep ache in his chest. Crowley rolled his eyes. “Mhm. Gotta make sure you get that food.”
---
It wasn’t fair for Aziraphale to be so fucking beautiful. Crowley could hardly take his eyes off the angel as they rode the elevator to their room. That gorgeous smile, those eager eyes, the fluffy hair. One tuft of light hair was just the tiniest bit out of place, and Crowley itched to fix it.
But holding Aziraphale’s hand was already overwhelming all his carefully constructed defenses. He’d worked so hard to wall off those impulses, to stuff them deep in the back of his mind. To love Aziraphale in ways that didn’t make either of them uncomfortable.
At least this was offering plenty of opportunities for that, too. He hauled Aziraphale’s luggage with his free hand, his own bag slung over his shoulder. Once they reached their room, he miracled the door open. “Welcome to our home for the next week, angel.”
“Oh…” Aziraphale let go of his hand and stepped inside, looking around eagerly. “Oh, it does look awfully comfy.”
Crowley’s hand still tingled, and he stared at it for a moment. Did he want to hold Aziraphale’s hand again, or flee before other touches got more tempting?
Neither impulse was acceptable right now. He stepped into the room and tossed their bags on the lush down comforter that topped the massive four poster bed. Creams and warm browns dominated the room, gold accents shimmering from the blanket, the lace-edged curtains, and the framed paintings.
The curtains had been drawn back, letting sunlight into the room, and Crowley hissed softly at the brightness. Aziraphale glanced to him, then crossed the room and pulled them closed. “There, that’s better. No need to have those open.”
The consideration sent a fresh blast of emotion through Crowley, and he clenched his jaw for a moment. “Thanks, angel. D’ya like the room?”
“I do, yes!” Wiggling his fingers excitedly, Aziraphale examined the sitting area. One huge cushy sofa, cream with delicate gold embroidery and matching pillows. Two soft armchairs in the same style. A glass topped coffee table. “It’s really quite extravagant. Do you like it?”
“Yup, it’s good. Nice big bed.” Crowley’s cheeks warmed, and he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Y’know, for me. I can really sprawl out.”
Aziraphale twisted his hands together, turning to give him a shy glance. “It does look lovely. Also makes me wish I slept.”
You could. The words sprang to the end of Crowley’s tongue, and he barely choked them back in time. He crammed his hands even deeper in his pockets and swayed from side to side. “Eh, you could always sit in bed and read. It wouldn’t bother me.”
Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. He had not meant to say that.
Aziraphale’s cheeks went pink, and he cleared his throat. “That’s, um, very kind of you.”
“Oh, shut up,” Crowley snapped, grateful for the more familiar ground. “I’m a demon, I’m not kind.”
“Mhm.” Aziraphale seemed more at ease now too, his shoulders relaxing. “Oh, would you mind getting my dinner jacket out for me?”
“Yeah, ‘course.” It only took Crowley a minute to find the jacket in Aziraphale’s luggage. Mainly because the angel hadn’t actually brought anything except the dinner jacket, three boxes of shortbread, several scattered cocoa packets, a box of tea, and… “That’s why this was so heavy! How many books did you bring?”
Aziraphale pouted. “As many as I needed. You wouldn’t want me to run out, would you?”
Crowley just stared at him for a moment, utterly smitten. Aziraphale was infuriating sometimes, always ridiculous, and Crowley loved him more than anything. Loved him because he was infuriating, ridiculous, kind, gentle, and absolutely the most interesting being in all Creation.
But saying any of that would cause a catastrophe. So Crowley just gave an aggravated sigh, miracled away the wrinkles in Aziraphale’s jacket, and held it out. “Come on. Dinner time.”
Chapter 2
The dining room was simply magnificent, light glittering off elegant chandeliers and a great deal of crystal. Three long tables formed a “U” shape, with a smaller table just ahead of them. A man and a woman—likely the event organizers—already sat at the small table, waving and calling greetings as guests trickled in.
Sudden anxiety pressed on Aziraphale’s chest, and he instinctively moved closer to Crowley. Seemingly just as instinctive, Crowley wrapped an arm around him. “Angel? What’s wrong?”
“Hmm?” Aziraphale asked vaguely, distracted from his anxiety by the gentle, reassuring way that Crowley was holding him. “Oh, nothing much. Just a bit nervous about whether we’ll be convincing.”
“We’ll be convincing. Remember, it’s just like being spies.” Crowley smiled at him, then reached to smooth his hair. A shiver rushed through Aziraphale at the touch. “Besides, you’re so damn enthusiastic about food that it should make up for me not eating much. Just be yourself.”
“I just hope nobody looks at us and immediately deduces that we’re not, well…” Aziraphale waved his hand aimlessly. “Not together.”
“Everyone has assumed we’re together for ages,” Crowley said bluntly. “We’ve been friends for six thousand years. I think it’s pretty easy to tell at a glance that we care about each other.”
“Oh… I suppose that’s true.” But oh, Aziraphale’s chest ached terribly now. No longer from anxiety, now simply from longing. It would be so wonderful to really be married.
He glanced down at the wedding ring on his finger, a simple gold band. Just wearing it felt like a lie… but also a hope. Even if it was merely a vain hope.
Crowley found two seats marked with their names, and they sank into them. Aziraphale clutched his hands together nervously, and Crowley was bouncing his leg vigorously enough to make the table shake. That would certainly be noticeable.
It was time to stop fretting and to put on a good show. Aziraphale wiggled, straightening up, and laid his hand on Crowley’s thigh. “Well, my dear. Didn’t I tell you think would simply be the most marvelous outing for us? What a lovely hotel.”
Crowley looked to him, startled, and a smile crept onto his face. “Only the best for my angel.”
The light clinking of a spoon against glass called their attention to the smaller table. “Welcome to our annual celebration of food and love!” called a woman with warm brown skin and beautiful dark, curly hair. “My name is Catherine DuPont, and I’ll be one of your hosts. We’ve brought in some spectacular speakers and food artists, and we’ll all have a marvelous time. Are you hungry?”
Titters of assent rose, and waiters moved in with platters of food. Aziraphale watched eagerly, tummy rumbling. A nice dinner ought to help him relax.
It was a very, very nice dinner. Light soups to start, and then several rather fancy dishes and sides. The servings weren’t nearly big enough—they were samples, after all—but the sheer quantity made up for it. And Crowley passed each of his dishes to Aziraphale with a fond look, which helped too.
Aziraphale let out a pleased noise and dabbed a bit of sauce away from his lips. “Do you like the wine?” he asked Crowley, a little guilt tugging at his tummy. He’d gotten so distracted by the food that he’d barely paid attention to his friend.
Crowley gave a lazy smile. He was leaning back in his chair, one arm hooked across the back, wine glass in his other hand. He looked very cool and relaxed and absolutely gorgeous. “Yup. How’s your food?”
“Oh, it’s simply wonderful!” Aziraphale wiggled, rubbing his hands together. “It ought to be desserts next. I’m so looking forward to it.”
“I might actually try some desserts,” Crowley said. He tilted his head, then reached out. His long fingers brushed against Aziraphale’s lips, and Aziraphale nearly swooned. “Got a little sauce there, angel.”
Before Aziraphale could respond, the elderly lady seated beside him spoke. “You two are just the sweetest young couple. Aren’t they, dear?”
Her wife leaned to look at them, pushing up her glasses. “Oh, they are. Been together long?”
“Very long,” Crowley replied, a slight rough edge in his voice as he took Aziraphale’s hand and squeezed. “Feels like forever. Right, angel?”
Aziraphale smiled at him, relieved that he’d answered, then turned back to the humans. They both had pale skin and very white hair, one wearing rather a lot of makeup and the other a more moderate amount. And oh, they looked so happy to be here. “Yes, forever. Have you two been together long?”
“Oh, yes,” his neighbor said with a chuckle. “We grew up in the same little village! I’m Ethel, and this is Rosamund.”
Rosamund—the one with less makeup—waved cheerily. “Ethel and I were always sneaking out of school together to steal strawberries. What about you, dear?”
“Oh, I’m Aziraphale, and this is—” Oh drat, he could hardly refer to his supposed husband by his last name. “This is Anthony.”
“I think she was asking where you met, love,” Ethel said, smiling. “Did food bring you two together as well?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, yes.” Aziraphale warmed at the memory of that first conversation, of Crowley kindly listening to him. “We met because of an apple!”
Crowley choked on his wine.
The arrival of dessert rescued Aziraphale from answering any more questions. He gently thumped Crowley on the back as the demon coughed, guilty. “Are you okay, dear boy?”
“Tickety-boo,” Crowley grumbled, face bright red. He cleared his throat and gave Aziraphale a look that made it quite clear he was to avoid explaining their actual history to anyone.
And then there was chocolate everywhere. Aziraphale gasped, delighted, and dug into the first piece of cake.
---
Crowley had planned to eat some of the desserts. He really had. But eating cake was much less appealing than watching Aziraphale do so.
He’d always enjoyed watching Aziraphale eat. The angel took such pleasure in it, savoring every bite. He was always beautiful, but there was something special about this. Maybe it was because, as Aziraphale said, they met because of an apple.
But no, it was more than that. So much of their shared history was built on food and drink. Nibbling on dates and drinking beer in Uruk, oysters and wine in Rome, crepes and more wine in Paris. Lunches and dinners at the Ritz. And picnics, sprawled together on a blanket happily chatting away under the warm sunlight.
Aziraphale turned to him, smiling with sheer delight, and Crowley’s breath caught. He reached out, no control over his hand, and cupped Aziraphale’s soft cheek. He gazed into the hazel eyes, every bit of his soul crying out to lean in for a kiss.
Crowley forced himself to grin instead. “Having fun?”
But although he’d expected Aziraphale to pull back, the angel leaned into his touch. “So much fun. Do I have something on my cheek, dearest?”
Dearest. Oh, Somebody, he was gonna die. Aziraphale’s endearments always pierced right through him, striking deep into the vulnerable parts of himself. Effortlessly dismantling all the defenses he’d put up.
“N-nuh,” he choked, risking a light caress against Aziraphale’s cheek. Maybe he should say something. Not much, just a bit to test the waters. “It seemed like, er, the right thing to do. Y’know, this is actually—”
“I hope everyone enjoyed their meal!” Host Lady called from the small table. Crowley hissed softly in irritation at the interruption, and Aziraphale pulled away from his touch. “Now, we have a wonderful lineup of speakers for the next week, as well as many more delicious dishes for you. And exhibits about some interesting food history!”
It would probably all be inaccurate food history. As the humans went on and on about the event, Crowley brooded. It would be a fucking awful idea to tell Aziraphale how he felt. What had he been thinking? Especially here, now. He wanted Aziraphale to have fun.
But the thought wouldn’t go away, not even when they got back to their room. Especially when they got back to their room. That big bed wasn’t made for one, after all.
Maybe there wouldn’t be any real harm in saying something. It wasn’t like he and Aziraphale would jump straight into having wild sex. He didn’t even know if Aziraphale was interested in that kind of intimacy. But it would be so fun to just curl up together amid all the softness, to wrap his arms around his angel…
“Oh, that was just lovely.” Aziraphale shrugged out of his tan dinner jacket and unbuttoned his waistcoat. Crowley shivered at the view of his soft belly, hands itching with the need to touch. “I think this is off to a wonderful start, don’t you?”
“Yeah, it really is. And I think we, er. Make a pretty convincing couple.” Suddenly trembling, Crowley dragged a hand through his hair. There was a tightness in his chest now, and he couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact even with his sunglasses still on. “You know, we…”
And then he froze up. What was he supposed to say? Hey, Aziraphale, I’ve loved you for literal millennia, wanna hook up?
“We what?” Aziraphale’s face had gone very frozen too, hands clutched tight together and pulled back against his belly. He stared at Crowley with something like anticipation.
Or horror. Worst case scenario, horror.
And while Crowley was an optimist at heart, he believed in respecting worst case scenarios. He gave a little shrug, letting his hair fall back across his brow. “If we ever get bored, we could go be real spies again. I think we’re pretty great at it.”
“Oh. Oh, yes.” Aziraphale gave a tiny smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I suppose we are. At pretending to be, um.”
They just stood there, both staring at the floor. Crowley wrestled with his emotions, kicking himself. Had he disappointed Aziraphale? Let him down? What if Aziraphale really did feel something for him?
“Or,” he started.
“Or there’s many books to read!” Aziraphale interrupted, hands no longer still. They flailed wildly, fluttering around him with no real direction. “Anyway! Good night, Crowley!”
He fled to the sitting area, seemed to realize he didn’t have a book, and rushed back to snatch one. Then he fled again.
Crowley’s gut wrenched as Aziraphale settled into the only chair facing away from the bed. Well, shit. That hadn’t gone as planned.
---
After two days of the symposium, Aziraphale had decided this was a special sort of torture. Being so close to Crowley all the time, expected to hold his hand, to touch him, but not to give in to feelings…
He wasn’t sure how much longer he could do it.
At the moment, they were enjoying—or pretending to enjoy, which might be more accurate given his fretting—a buffet. He went about the room on Crowley’s arm, investigating all the available foods. Crowley had been a bit quiet since the awkward end to their first day, although playing the part well whenever they were in public.
Crowley tipped his head to Ethel and Rosamund. “Ladies. Enjoying yourselves?”
“Oh, always,” Ethel said, wrinkles deepening as she smiled. “But you two look a bit down. Not trouble in paradise, I hope?”
Crowley stiffened, and Aziraphale’s heart began to pound more quickly. Oh, he couldn’t let any suspicion leak out. “Oh, not at all,” he said, smiling. “I’m afraid I just spent a bit too much time reading this morning and neglected my dear husband.”
It was the first time he’d actually said those words, actually called Crowley his husband, and they slammed into him with all the force of a lorry. He nearly began to cry, aching for them to be true.
But instead of crying, he pressed a slow kiss to Crowley’s cheek. Crowley’s eyes closed behind the dark lenses, and he leaned into the contact with a soft noise. Aziraphale pressed another, hoping it would at least soothe him.
“Aww, there.” Rosamund smiled, approving. “You be sure to dote on that man as much as he dotes on you.”
“Yes, quite. Um.” Aziraphale cleared his throat, trembling, and tugged on Crowley’s arm. “Come now, Anthony. Let’s go explore the desserts.”
He drew Crowley away from their fellow guests and off to a more isolated dessert table. Crowley relaxed a bit and snorted, shaking his head. “Someone save me from well-meaning matchmakers.”
“Well, technically, I don’t think they’re matchmakers. Seeing as we’re married and all.” Aziraphale winced at the statement, flushing red. “Pretending! Pretending to be married. Um. Yes.”
“Why are we pretending?” Crowley asked. The words were soft, as if they’d just slipped out. Did he even know he’d said them?
“So that, um…” Aziraphale swallowed hard, reaching to stroke his hair. He brushed the errand strands off Crowley’s brow, smoothed it. “So that we can go to a fancy symposium and eat lots of goodies. Which… good Lord, Crowley, you are so patient with me.”
Crowley gave him an utterly confused look. “Wot?”
“You didn’t have to do this.” Tears rose again, and Aziraphale tried to blink them away. “You could have simply told me to pick a different event, rather than coming up with this whole plan of pretending we’re husbands.”
“Aziraphale, I wasn’t gonna let you be sad. You wanted to go to this event.” Although the overhead lighting shadowed Crowley’s eyes behind the dark lenses, Aziraphale could tell the demon was gazing right at him. “So I made it happen. Whatever I can do for you, I always will. You know that.”
The tender sincerity in Crowley’s voice nearly brought Aziraphale to tears in earnest. Oh, it was unbearable. He couldn’t hide it any longer, not another moment. “You have always been the most remarkable, devoted friend. And—”
“Everyone gather around, it’s time for photos!” Catherine’s voice rang out, and Aziraphale and Crowley both jumped. “Your copy of the couple’s photo is included in your special event package, so we like to take it when everyone’s fresh. And after, we’ll have a special demonstration of the best cooking activities and dining habits to keep your marriage strong.”
It was almost too much to bear. Aziraphale shifted his weight, as if to flee. He couldn’t keep pretending, but it wasn’t as though he could say anything in front of these people. What if Crowley rejected him?
“We don’t have to get a photo if you don’t want,” Crowley said, voice a little shaky. “Or I can take a selfie of us later.”
“That’s… very kind.” Aziraphale pressed a hand to his chest. He couldn’t catch his breath, and his head had gone all spinny. But… “I do want a photo, though. But perhaps we can skip the special cooking-while-married demonstration. I’d like to go back to our room, rest for a bit.”
“Sure, angel.” Brow furrowed with worry, Crowley caressed his cheek. “Anything you like.”
---
The most remarkable, devoted friend.
It was all Crowley could do to keep from crying. At least his sunglasses shielded his eyes, stopped the tears from showing.
He glanced down at his hand, at the plain gold band. He’d only really thought of it as part of the disguise at first, even though it stirred up some emotions. But now, after days of wearing it…
It felt right, and so did having Aziraphale on his arm. Kissing his cheek, stroking each other’s hair, holding hands. It all felt so right.
But did it feel right to Aziraphale too? What else had he meant to say before they got interrupted again?
“Kisses!” Ethel and Rosamund, giggling like the schoolchildren who had apparently stolen strawberries from every single person in their village, posed with their lips touching. The camera flashed, a painfully bright burst of light, and Crowley let out a groan of discomfort.
“Dearest?” Aziraphale’s hand was on his cheek at once, tender. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nnnh, just the flash of the camera.” They were in line for their own photo, and it hurt more the closer they got. “I’ve never been good with bright lights.”
“I know. I’m sorry I ought to have thought of that.” Worried, Aziraphale searched his face. “Do you want to skip the photo? I don’t want you to be in pain.”
Crowley shook his head, touched. “Nah, but thanks for asking. I’ll be okay.”
And then they were up next. He gritted his teeth, then forced himself to relax. It would be fine, no big deal.
He wrapped his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders, and the angel’s arm slipped around his waist. This was comfortable enough, not too intimate.
“Get closer together,” the cameraman said sharply. “And you must remove your sunglasses.”
“No, I need to keep ‘em on.” If he had to take his sunglasses off around this many people, he’d probably have a panic attack. Plus having his eyes show up in a photo would blow their cover. “You can just take the photo.”
The cameraman frowned, putting his hands on his hips. “No, I can’t. You must take them off. Now, or else I won’t photograph you.”
“How dare you?” The anger burst off Aziraphale like a heatwave, so strong that Crowley could feel it. “You will not give my husband ultimatums! I will not allow it.”
The sheer glory of Aziraphale getting this protective made Crowley dizzy. He gazed at his angel in awe, warmth swelling in his chest. Oh, Somebody, he loved this angel so much.
“But the glare from the lenses—”
“I rather suspect your objection is more because someone didn’t immediately follow your orders,” Aziraphale snapped, bristling even more. “But I have one idea for how to negate any worries of glare.”
Aziraphale whipped to face Crowley, eyes flashing fire. He reached up, grasped Crowley’s lapels, and pulled him into a kiss.
His lips were soft, warm, as welcoming as Crowley had ever imagined. Crowley brought his hands to Aziraphale’s sides, sinking into the kiss, whimpering at the overwhelming sparks of pleasure that burned through him. Did this mean Aziraphale loved him too?
A bright flash of light, and they broke apart. Aziraphale stared at him for a moment, chest heaving, eyes wide with something like terror. Shit.
Crowley reached to cup his cheek, no longer caring about the human audience. There was only Aziraphale. “Angel?”
Aziraphale’s lips moved as if he was about to say something, and he let out a faint whimper. Then he turned and ran, leaving Crowley behind.
For a moment, Crowley just stood there. This was all his worst nightmares come to life, every worst case scenario at once. Aziraphale rejecting him, Aziraphale being horrified by him. This must be his fault, he must have gone too fast.
But Aziraphale had kissed him, hadn’t he? Yeah, but only after Crowley came up with this stupid plan. It was his fault, all his fault, he’d fucked everything up.
“Don’t worry, love.” A gentle voice, a pat on his arm. Struggling not to cry, Crowley turned to see Ethel right beside him. “I’m sure he just feels guilty about reading too much.”
“Nuh, he…” Crowley swiped at the escaping tears, hand knocking into his sunglasses instead. “It’s not him. It’s me. I always fuck everything up.”
“Go after him,” Rosamund said, holding out a bottle of wine. “He loves you, and you love him. That’s a solid foundation for patching up any spats.”
Blowing out a long breath, Crowley took the wine. “Thanks.”
And then, with a gentle chorus of encouragement from a room full of well-meaning humans, Crowley followed his angel.
Chapter 3
Aziraphale shoved into their room, gasping for breath. But there was no air, he couldn’t get any air. His head spun, and his legs wobbled underneath him.
Hot tears streaming down his cheeks, he collapsed onto the sofa. Sobs wrenched through him. He tried to take a deep breath, to calm himself, but it strangled off in his throat.
What had he done? What had he been thinking? He must have just destroyed their friendship, Crowley would never forgive him, never speak to him again…
“Angel?” The door banged open, and rapid footsteps thumped across the room. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not!” Aziraphale tried to look up at him through the haze of tears. Crowley had pulled his sunglasses off, eyes wide and worried. “I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
Before he could say anything else, Crowley dropped onto the sofa and dragged him into a hug. One arm wrapped around his back, and slender fingers curled around the base of his neck. “Shhh, it’s okay. Okay, Aziraphale. I’m here.”
“Oh…” Weeping, Aziraphale turned into the hug. He buried his face in Crowley’s thin shoulder, breaths still coming too fast. “Oh, Crowley, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done such an awful thing.”
“Personally, I don’t think kissing you is awful,” Crowley said softly. “I’d love to do it again, if you would.”
“But…” Aziraphale struggled to slow his breaths, to calm himself. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, so loud. “I th-thought… I didn’t think you liked me that way. Romantically.”
The words just slipped out, and his breaths cut off completely. Oh no. Oh no, he’d made it even worse.
He jerked back, and there were tears on Crowley’s cheeks. Oh no, what had he done? What if after this, Crowley didn’t even want to be friends?
But then Crowley almost smiled, reaching to cup his cheek. “So, I’ve been walking around all this time trying to hide my feelings… and you liked me all along?”
“Of course I like you!” Aziraphale pouted, hurt by the implication. “I would hardly have agreed to pretend to be your husband if—”
“Why are we pretending?” Crowley asked again.
It was the same question as earlier, the one that had seemingly escaped without conscious thought. But now, Aziraphale saw it in a different light.
“You mean… we could actually be husbands?” he asked carefully, unsure whether he’d understood properly. “You… want to be husbands?”
“Yeah.” Crowley clasped his left hand, thumb stroking across the wedding ring. “I do. Do you?”
“Yes.” Aziraphale’s eyes flooded with tears, and he instinctively leaned in. “I do.”
They kissed then, lips pressing tentatively together. Aziraphale’s tummy swooped, his head spinning at the intensity of feeling.
And not just his feelings. A wave of love exploded from Crowley, so strong that it knocked the breath out of Aziraphale’s lungs. He could always feel Crowley’s love, a comfortable warmth around them at all times, but this! This was something entirely different.
They broke apart, breathing hard. Crowley brushed his fingers against Aziraphale’s lips, just as tender as the kisses. “I love you, Aziraphale.”
Aziraphale let his own hand rise, tracing the sharp lines of Crowley’s face. “I love you too, Crowley. In every way possible.”
Crowley grinned, tears trickling down his cheeks. “This calls for a celebration. The humans gave me a bottle of wine, want some?”
“I want…” What did he want? Everything. “Wine, yes. But also…”
The requests caught in his throat. Even now, how could he ask Crowley for what he wanted?
“S’ all right.” Crowley’s voice was gentle, kind. “We mighta rushed into things a little. It’s okay if you need to slow down.”
“No, no. It’s not that, dear fellow.” Aziraphale patted his hand absently. “I’m just a bit overwhelmed, that’s all. There’s so much we can do, and I haven’t the vaguest idea where to start.”
“Hn, okay. I get that.” The corner of Crowley’s mouth quirked in a smile. “D’ya want me to pick?”
Aziraphale sighed, a bit irritated with himself. “If you wouldn’t mind. I’m sorry, I’m being quite silly.”
“No, you’re not. And you know me, I love rushing to the rescue.” Crowley snapped his fingers, and two glasses filled with wine. “How about this. Wine and holding hands to start, see where we go from there?”
“Oh, that sounds so lovely.” Aziraphale slid his hands into Crowley’s grasp. The touch once again sent a jolt through him, powerful longing for more. But at the same time… “Goodness, this is intense.”
“Yeah, it’s… a lot.” Crowley shivered, breaths hitching. He took a gulp of his wine, then turned to press his brow to Aziraphale’s. “We’re all right. There’s no rush for anything, angel.”
Still trembling, Aziraphale leaned into the gentle contact. The familiar smoke and burnt matches scent soothed him once again, although it did still stir up longing for all sorts of other things. “Perhaps we can kiss more? And hug?”
“Sure, angel.” After a moment, Crowley drew back and downed the rest of his wine. He set his cup down, lifted an eyebrow. “You wanna try that now?”
Suddenly unable to speak, Aziraphale nodded. Crowley lifted a trembling hand, brushed it against his cheek. Their lips met, a brief brush before separating. Easing into it.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Crowley whispered, fingers tracing under Aziraphale’s jaw. “I wanna kiss you absolutely everywhere.”
Aziraphale giggled. He couldn’t help it, flooded with emotions. “You’re awfully naughty.”
Crowley snorted, a smile tugging at his face. “M’ trying to be romantic, you bastard.”
“Mm. Well, you are doing quite a good job of it.” Breaths shallow, Aziraphale let his own hand wander. Along Crowley’s jawline, down the fine lines of his neck. All the way to rest over his heart.
He leaned in again, capturing Crowley’s lips in another kiss. This time lingering, a slow exploration. Aziraphale’s heart raced at first, feelings nearly swamping him. Oh goodness, he had no idea what he was doing, no idea how to handle this.
But Crowley’s hand shook as he cupped Aziraphale’s cheek, and the mutual nervousness was oddly reassuring. Crowley was very cool, yes, but he was just as vulnerable in this moment. Just as unpracticed.
Well, they would practice. And together, they would learn what they enjoyed.
---
A few more brushes of lips, and then Crowley let himself explore a bit more. He shifted his attentions to Aziraphale’s soft cheeks, then to his forehead. Aziraphale’s lips curved in a smile, eyes closing as Crowley showered him with affection.
“Does this feel okay?” Crowley asked, still uncertain. He couldn’t push, couldn’t risk making Aziraphale uncomfortable.
“It feels so very wonderful.” The hazel eyes opened, picking up glimmers of gold from their surroundings. Aziraphale stilled him with a gentle finger against his lips, and Crowley raised an eyebrow in question. “May I return the favor?”
Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale leaned in. He followed the same path of kisses, first a brush to the lips and then up Crowley’s cheek. And oh, Somebody, it was amazing.
The sheer tenderness brought a lump to Crowley’s throat, and he closed his eyes. He had a strong imagination, but he’d never really let himself entertain the idea that he might get what he wanted, everything he dreamed about. That Aziraphale would really love him like this.
Gentle hands touched his arms, guiding him forward. He went without opening his eyes, trusting Aziraphale.
And then he was being hugged, his head cradled to a solid shoulder. Aziraphale rocked slightly, a hum of contentment slipping from him. “Oh, my Crowley. I do love you so very much.”
A shiver rushed through Crowley, and he pressed his face into Aziraphale’s neck as tears rose. “Love you,” he mumbled against the soft skin, wrapping his arms around his angel. “Sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”
“Dearest.” Aziraphale’s hand skimmed across his hair, a little shaky and uncertain. “Neither of us said anything. I’m still a bit, um, embarrassed by the whole scene downstairs.”
“Are you kidding?” Crowley hugged Aziraphale tighter, melting against the softness of his body. He could stay here all day. All week. “That was fucking awesome. You went full Principality on that cameraman.”
Aziraphale gave a soft chuckle. “Well, I suppose I did. But he was being so rude to you! And I certainly wasn’t going to let him hurt your eyes with his silly camera flash.”
“My hero.” Laughing, Crowley gave Aziraphale an even tighter squeeze. “Love that about you. You’re really protective.”
“As are you, dear boy. And I… oh goodness, it’s so exciting to be able to say these things.” Another squeeze, and then Aziraphale sat back. His eyes were bright, whole face lit up with joy. “I love that about you too, Crowley. I love your fierceness, your bravery, your determination… and, although you’ll protest, your kindness.”
“Hrgk.” Suddenly feeling more shy than he’d ever felt in his life, Crowley hid his face in Aziraphale’s fluffy curls. “Gonna make me blush, angel. S’ not fair.”
“Well, there might be a way to make me blush too.”
There was an odd note in Aziraphale’s voice. When Crowley pulled back, the angel’s cheeks were already red. “Wot?”
Aziraphale gave a little wince, as if embarrassed. His eyes darted to the bed, then back to Crowley. “Could we, um… try snuggling?”
“Oh, fuck yes.” The thought of curling up in the big bed with Aziraphale—all that softness, so much softness—was irresistible.
Crowley hopped up and held out his hand, and Aziraphale took it. They went to the bed together, and Aziraphale hesitated. “Um. Goodness. I haven’t even laid down in a bed in, oh… at least a few hundred years.”
Snorting, Crowley flopped down. “Look, it’s easy. And we don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, okay?”
Aziraphale’s expression softened into one of utter adoration. “I know. I’m not the slightest bit worried about that. You’re very careful with me, my dear.”
He laid down beside Crowley and gave a long, contented sigh as he sank into the thick blankets. Crowley grinned at the sight. “You look perfect there. Fit right in with the color scheme, the fluffiness…”
Beaming, Aziraphale reached to ruffle his hair. “While you, my dear, are like the focal point in a piece of beautiful artwork. Such a contrast with the surroundings, standing out while still looking quite in the right place.”
Crowley ducked his head, grinning as Aziraphale’s fingers gently scritched across his scalp. “Where the Heaven did you learn how to give compliments like that?”
“Books,” Aziraphale answered promptly.
“Oh. Of course.” Crowley rolled his eyes, then flopped into the pillows. He reached out, tracing his finger along the softness of Aziraphale’s jawline. “You know why I look like I’m in the right place though, yeah?”
“Um.” With a confused look, Aziraphale leaned into the touch. “Because you like pretending to be James Bond, and fancy hotels aren’t the most unusual setting for those books and films?”
Crowley chuckled, then leaned to kiss Aziraphale’s cheek. “Okay, valid, but no. I’m in the right place because you’re here. Wherever you are, that’s my right place.”
Tears misted Aziraphale’s eyes, and he pulled Crowley back into a hug. He sniffled, and Crowley nuzzled into his neck. “My dear Crowley,” Aziraphale choked. “And where the Hell did you learn how to give compliments like that?”
Crowley snuggled closer, right where he belonged. “Films.”
---
Aziraphale laid back in the big cushy bed with his eyes closed, basking. This was truly the best day he’d ever had, even with the panic attack earlier. All misunderstandings were out of the way, all feelings out in the open. There was no need to hide.
At least, that was how he felt. Crowley, however, had pressed his face into Aziraphale’s stomach ten minutes ago and still hadn’t re-emerged.
Smiling, Aziraphale opened his eyes and skimmed a hand over the red hair. “Crowley, dearest.”
“Mm?” Crowley asked without moving.
“Is everything all right?” A grunt in response, and Aziraphale sighed. “If you’re feeling a bit emotional, you don’t need to be ashamed of it. Today has been rather intense.”
“S’ not that.” Crowley’s voice was somewhat muffled by the ample tummy. “Really like your stomach. Good pillow.”
Heavens, he was ridiculous. “Do you always smash your face into your pillow?”
“Not always.” Snuggling closer, Crowley turned so Aziraphale could see his face. He did look wonderfully relaxed and very happy. So, so content. “If you’d joined me in bed sooner like I offered—just to read, mind—you would already know the answer.”
“Well, I was a bit worried that I might end up in precisely this situation,” Aziraphale said mildly, scritching across Crowley’s scalp.
Crowley grinned and pushed up into the touch. “I’ve got you now. You’re trapped.”
“Oh dear, how dreadful. I suppose I shall have to miss being hounded by all the humans.” After what had happened earlier with the cameraman and the kiss, Aziraphale wasn’t certain if he could face them again.
But that brought a frown to Crowley’s face. “I don’t want you to miss your symposium, angel. You were so excited for it.”
Aziraphale contemplated for a moment. The food was yummy, yes. But still. “I think I’m rather more eager to explore our newfound relationship.”
“Marriage,” Crowley corrected, grinning again. He caught Aziraphale’s hand, kissed it. “If you wanna have an actual wedding though, we can.”
“Hmm, I’ll consider it.” It might be fun, but they had no real need for a big ceremony. He and Crowley had been devoted to each other for simply ages, after all. “I am very, very happy to have a husband.”
“So am I.” Pushing up, Crowley kissed him. Then he flopped down again, laying on his back with his head on Aziraphale’s tummy. He chuckled. “Your stomach’s growling. Sure you wanna skip dinner?”
“Oh, I am a bit peckish…” Aziraphale bit his lip, conflicted. He hadn’t gotten to eat much earlier, and the food was so yummy. “I’d like food, but I don’t feel like leaving the room. Or the bed, for that matter.”
“Ooh. Well, I’m onboard with staying in bed all day. Or all week, mind. Especially if there’s snuggling” With a grin, Crowley shoved back into a seated position. “But I can’t let my angel be hungry.”
That heralded something exciting, so Aziraphale sat up straighter. He folded his hands and rested them on the curve of his tummy, watching eagerly.
Crowley closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled slowly, focusing. Then he snapped his hand up.
Dishes materialized on the bed. Yummy little sandwiches and bowls of mashed potatoes and an entire pot of some sort of pasta. And then desserts too, chocolates and cheesecake and ice cream.
“Oh, good Lord!” Aziraphale burst into laughter, finding Crowley’s hand and squeezing. “You truly do enjoy doing things to a rather excessive degree, don’t you?”
“Hn, maybe. I didn’t mean to grab the whole pot of pasta.” Cheeks tinted red, Crowley raked a hand through his hair. “Is this enough food?”
“Is this…” Laughing even harder now, Aziraphale pulled Crowley to snuggle up again. Oh, this was such fun. He’d never dreamed that they could do something like this, simply laze in bed together teasing each other. “Yes, my dear. This is quite enough food, but I’m afraid you’ve forgotten the alcohol.”
“Oh, shit! Can’t forget that.” Lips pursed in annoyance at himself, Crowley snapped his fingers. An abundance of wine and other beverages materialized on the end table. “There we go. That’s better.”
He picked up one of the little sandwiches and held it up. Aziraphale nibbled at it, blushing furiously. Oh, this was much more fun than the big dinner parties. And there was no one here asking pointed questions.
After he swallowed the sandwich, he stroked Crowley’s hair. “Thank you, my dear. If we’d like to entertain the humans, you could do that next time we join the other guests.”
Crowley snorted, but he was smiling. “Hey, they’d be thrilled. They all encouraged me to go after you, y’know.”
“Oh!” Touched, Aziraphale wiggled. “They did? That’s so nice of them.”
“Yeah. Well-meaning humans aren’t the worst thing, I guess.” Leaning in, Crowley kissed him gently. “They’ll celebrate that we’ve patched things up. Probably gossiping about us right now and how long we’ve been in our room. We’ll be the talk of the hotel.”
“Oh dear.” But there were worse things than being talked about in relation to Crowley. “I hope they’re all saying what a marvelous husband you are.”
“Nuh, you’re the marvelous husband.” Crowley pressed their foreheads together, letting out a contented noise. “I love you.”
“I love you.” The novelty of saying it hadn’t worn off yet. Aziraphale hoped it never would. “Well, I suppose I ought to eat some of this yummy food you brought up for me.”
“Go for it. And, er…” Drawing back, Crowley cleared his throat. He held up his hands, turned them palm up with a dramatic flair. “Can I groom your wings while you eat?”
Aziraphale wiggled again, utterly delighted, and drew his wings out. One of them buffeted Crowley’s hair, and Aziraphale laughed. “Oops.”
“S’ all right.” Smiling, Crowley gathered the white wing across his lap. “Here, budge up a little. There’s something I’ve absolutely always wanted to do, every single time we’ve groomed each other’s wings.”
“That sounds awfully exciting.” Careful not to disturb the food, Aziraphale slid forward.
Crowley moved behind him, hand settling at the base of his left wing. A slow, tender kiss pressed to the back of his wing, then to his shoulder, and then up to his neck.
A noise of pleasure escaping, Aziraphale leaned back into the tender kisses. “Oh, Crowley. I’m so delighted to be with you.”
“Me too. Love you, angel.” Crowley’s fingers moved through Aziraphale’s feathers, grooming gently as he kissed Aziraphale’s neck again.
“I love you.” Aziraphale closed his eyes, thoughts of food abandoned for now. Soon, he would enjoy the wonderful food that Crowley had provided for him. But for now, he would savor the sweet intimacy that he’d always craved.
Link to Gift 3
Recipient: HolRose
Rating: T
Pairings: Aziraphale/Crowley
Summary: When Aziraphale’s holiday plans are in jeopardy, Crowley suggests a solution. If the event is only open to married couples, they’ll just pretend to be married! What could possibly go wrong?
“Ooh, this sounds awfully fun.” Aziraphale carefully scrolled on the web page to read the rest of the symposium description. Crowley had brought his fancy laptop computer over today so Aziraphale could look up holiday ideas from anywhere in the shop. “‘A celebration of the love of food and how it brings people together’. Quite tailor made for us, hmm?”
“If food includes beverages, then I’m in.” Crowley’s fingers moved through Aziraphale’s secondaries, carefully aligning the feather barbs. They often groomed each other’s wings these days, a friendly bonding activity.
But Aziraphale often wished it was more. He found himself increasingly intoxicated with Crowley now that they were free, his heart leaping whenever the demon came near. Wing grooming was so intimate, so lovely, and it often made him crave other sorts of affection.
Would Crowley want that sort of thing? Sometimes, Aziraphale almost thought he might. That Crowley’s eyes lit up in the same way, that his voice rang with the same affection. That Crowley loved him too.
But if he did, surely he would have said something by now. It had been three years of freedom, after all. Crowley did love him, just… not in the same way.
“Angel?” Crowley tapped lightly at the base of his wing. “Does that include beverages?”
“Oh! I’m sorry, dear boy. Got a bit distracted.” Cheeks hot, Aziraphale tried again to focus on choosing a holiday destination. “It just, um, feels so nice to have my wings groomed.”
“Yeah, I love it.” Crowley stroked a hand across his coverts, then sifted through them in search of powder down. “Love doing it for you. And love when you do mine.”
Aziraphale’s heart fluttered at the affection in his voice. Even if it wasn’t the same kind of love, it was still wonderful. “Well, I promise I’ll do yours as soon as I’m done here. Let’s see… Beverages are part of the event, yes. There’s a whole page on here dedicated to just the different types of wine.”
“Gosh, that sounds better every second.” Fingers still scritching through Aziraphale’s feathers, Crowley leaned to look over his shoulder. His breath warmed Aziraphale’s neck. “Where’s that at? Hotel?”
“Mhm. So we can stay there too. I’ll book a room.” With two beds.
Because no matter how much Aziraphale might enjoy those silly fantasies, he never wanted Crowley to feel uncomfortable around him. It was so nice to see him so relaxed these days. Sunglasses off when inside, smiling freely, laughing and joking. Aziraphale couldn’t bear the thought of spoiling that.
“Let’s see. Ah, that’s a nice big room, two beds.” Aziraphale read through the description, pleased. It sounded like a lovely place. “I’ll sign up for the symposium first, just in case they offer some sort of a discount or package deal on… Oh.”
Crowley paused, fingers buried in his feathers. “Oh?”
Heart sinking, Aziraphale read the event information again. Food and drink included, a celebration of love.
But only of one sort of love.
He set the laptop computer aside and tugged his wing out of Crowley’s grasp, then gave an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid we can’t go after all, my dear. I’m sorry.”
“Wot? Why?” Crowley asked, tilting his head. “Is it sold out?”
“No, but…” Aziraphale shrugged and stood, shaking his wings to settle the few ruffled feathers back in place. Perhaps he would simply get drunk next. That sounded nice. “The event is only open to married couples.”
Crowley’s golden eyes widened, then narrowed as he frowned. He reached out, smoothing Aziraphale’s coverts. “That’s bloody ridiculous. There’s loads of ways that food can bring people together. And people can be, y’know… together. In ways that don’t involve being married. I mean, look at us. We’re best friends!”
“I know, dear boy. You hardly need to tell me that.” Aziraphale gave a sad smile, twisting his hands together. “I suppose I’ll look for a different holiday destination later.”
“Nonono, screw that.” Crowley stepped in front of him and caught his arms. Startled, Aziraphale looked up into the determined frown. “There’s only one solution to that, angel.”
Aziraphale’s heart lifted for a brief moment, imagination blasting to life. Crowley would sweep him off his feet, kiss him fiercely, declare his undying love. And then they would rush off to get married, and—
“We pretend to be married,” Crowley said with glee, and Aziraphale’s hopes crashed dramatically into flaming wreckage.
“Oh. Oh, but…” Fighting back tears, Aziraphale sighed. “Well, I’m an angel. I shouldn’t lie.”
“I’ll lie for you.” Crowley’s voice had gone awfully soft, and he gave a little tempting side-to-side sway. “It’d be fun, I promise. If you wanna go…”
“I do want to go.” Conflicted, Aziraphale twisted his hands together and gazed at his best friend. Oh, it truly was sweet of Crowley to think up such a plan, and to be willing to implement it. “You’d really lie for me?”
“Of course I will.” Crowley touched his arm again, just a brief reassuring brush of long fingers. “I’d do anything for you, you know that.”
Dishonesty wasn’t the sort of thing an angel ought to find incredibly romantic, but it nearly made Aziraphale swoon. And despite knowing perfectly well that his hopes were rather unrealistic, they insisted on flaring up anyway. What if Crowley did like him romantically, and this was some sort of an elaborate scheme to win his affections?
Aziraphale blushed, heart aching with affection. Although not possibly true, it was a lovely thought. “Oh, very well, you fiend. Bring out your wings, and I’ll groom them while you lie to the hotel.”
---
Crowley smoldered with irritation at the event organizers as he signed up. Blessed website should have been clear about who was welcome up front instead of upsetting his angel like that.
And Aziraphale was Crowley’s angel, his most cherished companion. He would do anything for Aziraphale, no question. Even hide his own feelings.
Some days, though, it was harder than others. Like today, with Aziraphale getting so upset. With just a little less impulse control, Crowley might have actually proposed marriage rather than just faking a relationship.
But what if Aziraphale had said no? Then they both would have been depressed, awkward, and probably unable to talk to each other for weeks or months or even years. That was too high a cost for romance.
“Okay, event’s almost booked, room next.” Crowley paused for a second, closing his eyes to focus on the gentle touch of Aziraphale’s hands. Aziraphale was fussing over his scapular feathers, each touch light and careful. It felt amazing, as always. “Er… got a question for you.”
Aziraphale’s hands paused too, then resumed. “Oh?”
“Sorry if it’s… hn.” Crowley rubbed his forehead, aching at the idea of asking something like this. It might make Aziraphale uncomfortable. “D’ya want me to sign up with Fell or Crowley as our last name?”
There was a little hitch in Aziraphale’s breath, and his hands stalled again. Then he grasped Crowley’s shoulder, the touch solid and surprisingly steady. “There is absolutely no possible way I am forcing you to introduce yourself as ‘Crowley Fell’.”
The sudden assertiveness in his voice—and the consideration—made Crowley lightheaded. He smiled to himself and leaned back into Aziraphale’s touch. “Okay, angel. Thanks.”
“Not at all.” Aziraphale squeezed his shoulder, then went back to delicately smoothing the scapulars. “I’m more than happy to take your name.”
They both froze again. Crowley’s heart thudded in his ears, the rapid beat almost eager. What if Aziraphale really did like him that way?
“Temporarily!” Aziraphale added, voice spiking in pitch. He rustled through Crowley’s feathers again, hands no longer steady. “I’m sorry. I meant temporarily. Borrowing it, as it were.”
“Well, I was pretty sure you weren’t stealing the damned thing.” The attempt at a joke fell flat, and Crowley cleared his throat before continuing to the next awkward question. “Okay. And, er. Room. It’ll be more convincing if we get a room with one big bed…”
He winced at the pathetic sound of that. Oh gosh, hopefully Aziraphale wouldn’t take that as a proposition. Even if it almost was.
“Oh, that’s perfectly fine.” Aziraphale patted his wing, then smoothed the section he’d just ruffled. “I don’t sleep anyway. As long as there’s a comfy armchair or sofa, I’ll be perfectly content.”
“Okay. So, I guess that’s our problems solved, then.” Except for the problem that pretending to be married to Aziraphale was going to make it much, much harder not to say anything stupid. And one other problem. “We should probably, uh… We’re gonna need wedding rings.”
Once again, Aziraphale’s hands stalled. “Ah. Well. I have some old jewelry floating around somewhere upstairs. I’m relatively certain there’s some rings in there that ought to work. Just simple bands, I think.”
It would be amazing to actually buy rings, to pick them out with care, but it was also an awful idea. “Sounds good, angel.”
As he booked the room, Crowley fretted. You go too fast for me, Crowley. The words looped in his mind again and again, relentless. They hadn’t been a rejection at the time, only a “not yet”, and Crowley had known it at the time. Understood, even. He’d been disappointed, but not angry.
But still. It had only been a few years since they gained their freedom, compared to five hundred years to tempt Aziraphale into the Arrangement. Spending this much time together and grooming each other’s wings was way more than Crowley could have hoped for.
Pretending to be married was also way more than Crowley could have hoped for, and he wanted to enjoy it. Awkward, maybe, but… “I think this’ll be fun.”
Aziraphale sighed and ran a final smoothing stroke across his feathers, then moved to sit beside him. “I’m a bit nervous, actually. What if I’m simply awful at it, and they realize we’re lying?”
“Nah, it’ll be great. It’s gonna be like in Bond,” Crowley said cheerfully. “You love spy stuff. I love spy stuff. We’ll be great at it.”
---
Aziraphale was going to die of embarrassment. All the couples checking into the hotel were practically hanging on each other, flirting and giggling and holding hands. The two men nearest them seemed to be trying to fuse their faces together.
Beside him, Crowley made a strangled noise. “I really didn’t think about the whole… PDA thing.”
Confused, Aziraphale looked to him. “The what?”
“Public displays of affection.” Crowley gulped, looking around with intense anxiety. Aziraphale’s spirits sank lower. Crowley wouldn’t be so distressed by the idea if he harbored secret romantic feelings.
“I-I suppose… we could likely get away with holding hands?” Aziraphale suggested. There were a few couples doing that, or standing with their arms linked. “We’ve done handshakes in the past. This wouldn’t really be different, just longer.”
The corner of Crowley’s mouth twitched into a smile, but he was shifting his weight anxiously from foot to foot. “Yeah, all right. Hold hands.”
He reached out, lifting an eyebrow. Suddenly trembling, Aziraphale took his hand.
It was like being knocked over, the touch utterly overwhelming. So intense. Aziraphale couldn’t remotely parse these emotions, couldn’t understand them. He wanted to cling to Crowley’s hand, to never let go. But he also, oddly enough, felt like crying.
He blinked the tears away and let out a shaky breath. A tingling sensation swept from his hand through the whole rest of his body. Overwhelming craving, a thousand times stronger than what he’d ever felt for food or drink or even books. Even stronger than the desire he’d had for Agnes Nutter’s book.
Crowley’s breath hitched, then settled back out. He gave a slight smile, expression cool and unaffected. “See? No big deal.”
Aziraphale wanted to cry. It was a big deal, such a big deal. The idea that this meant nothing to Crowley… simply unbearable.
But his breath had caught for just a moment. Oh Lord, what if that was because he found it unpleasant?
“You all right?” Crowley asked, brow deeply furrowed. Aziraphale couldn’t see his eyes through the sunglasses, but he knew they would be full of concern. Because Crowley really was so kind, so caring. “We can try something else if you don’t like this.”
“No, no, it’s fine. No big deal.” Aziraphale managed a smile.
They waited like that, hands joined, and Aziraphale struggled to control himself. It would be so nice to do more, even just to lay his head on Crowley’s shoulder, but what if that was too much? That could bring everything to the surface, lay his emotions bare.
But oh, he wanted to lay them bare. To tell Crowley how he felt, how much he loved him. To hug him, and kiss him, and perhaps even fall into bed with him.
Their single, big bed.
Oh Lord.
As they reached the counter, Aziraphale tried to look relaxed and adoring. Relaxation was nearly impossible, but he was rather an expert at adoring.
Crowley drew himself up, sliding into what Aziraphale immediately recognized as his Bond impression. Very cool, very collected, utterly certain of himself. “Hi, one couple checking in. Anthony J. Crowley, Aziraphale Z. Crowley.”
The clerk looked them over, and Aziraphale took a risk. He brought his other hand to Crowley’s arm, lightly rubbing up and down in a hopefully natural manner. “We’re so, so very excited for this. I do love food.”
“He does.” Crowley flashed a lazy grin, although his hand trembled in Aziraphale’s grasp. “I presume there’s something for me to sign?”
As Crowley went through the check-in process, Aziraphale struggled to maintain his bright smile. He couldn’t afford to let the façade drop, especially not when surrounded by all these happy couples. Must seem as though this was perfectly natural.
But oh, being this close to Crowley was torture. It would be so easy to lean over just a bit more, to press tender kisses along his sharp jawline. Or to reach up and smooth that lock of hair off his brow. All things that would be perfectly acceptable for a married couple.
Stopping there would be the trouble. Each moment of touch stoked the fires of Aziraphale’s emotions higher, until he found himself lightheaded. He took a deep breath to steady himself, and Crowley’s warm scent of smoke and burnt matches flooded his senses.
A familiar smell, one that normally made Aziraphale feel wonderfully comfortable and at home. But now, it only made the cravings worse. He could scarcely stop himself from dragging Crowley into a kiss.
Crowley leaned over, and Aziraphale automatically turned into the motion. Their cheeks brushed together, and tingling desire rushed through him. Oh goodness, he needed to calm down.
“We’re good,” Crowley murmured into his ear. Hot breath on his neck, thin fingers tightening on his. “Is it okay if I kiss your cheek? Just so we look convincing.”
Unable to answer with words, Aziraphale nodded. Crowley drew back a little, smiled nervously, and then pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s cheek. The lightest bit of contact for only a split second, but it was enough that Aziraphale’s legs went weak.
Crowley cleared his throat and straightened up, then tugged Aziraphale into motion. He gave Aziraphale a helplessly lost look. “Sorry. I just… If we wanna sell this, we… hrgk.”
“Oh, oh, it’s quite all right.” Aziraphale instinctively patted his arm again, then regretted it as another overwhelming surge of need slammed into him. His whole body was trembling, as if he was about to explode from the contact. “Believe me, my dear. I am quite committed to this as well. I won’t get to sample the yummy foods if we get caught!”
He managed to beam again, ignoring the deep ache in his chest. Crowley rolled his eyes. “Mhm. Gotta make sure you get that food.”
---
It wasn’t fair for Aziraphale to be so fucking beautiful. Crowley could hardly take his eyes off the angel as they rode the elevator to their room. That gorgeous smile, those eager eyes, the fluffy hair. One tuft of light hair was just the tiniest bit out of place, and Crowley itched to fix it.
But holding Aziraphale’s hand was already overwhelming all his carefully constructed defenses. He’d worked so hard to wall off those impulses, to stuff them deep in the back of his mind. To love Aziraphale in ways that didn’t make either of them uncomfortable.
At least this was offering plenty of opportunities for that, too. He hauled Aziraphale’s luggage with his free hand, his own bag slung over his shoulder. Once they reached their room, he miracled the door open. “Welcome to our home for the next week, angel.”
“Oh…” Aziraphale let go of his hand and stepped inside, looking around eagerly. “Oh, it does look awfully comfy.”
Crowley’s hand still tingled, and he stared at it for a moment. Did he want to hold Aziraphale’s hand again, or flee before other touches got more tempting?
Neither impulse was acceptable right now. He stepped into the room and tossed their bags on the lush down comforter that topped the massive four poster bed. Creams and warm browns dominated the room, gold accents shimmering from the blanket, the lace-edged curtains, and the framed paintings.
The curtains had been drawn back, letting sunlight into the room, and Crowley hissed softly at the brightness. Aziraphale glanced to him, then crossed the room and pulled them closed. “There, that’s better. No need to have those open.”
The consideration sent a fresh blast of emotion through Crowley, and he clenched his jaw for a moment. “Thanks, angel. D’ya like the room?”
“I do, yes!” Wiggling his fingers excitedly, Aziraphale examined the sitting area. One huge cushy sofa, cream with delicate gold embroidery and matching pillows. Two soft armchairs in the same style. A glass topped coffee table. “It’s really quite extravagant. Do you like it?”
“Yup, it’s good. Nice big bed.” Crowley’s cheeks warmed, and he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Y’know, for me. I can really sprawl out.”
Aziraphale twisted his hands together, turning to give him a shy glance. “It does look lovely. Also makes me wish I slept.”
You could. The words sprang to the end of Crowley’s tongue, and he barely choked them back in time. He crammed his hands even deeper in his pockets and swayed from side to side. “Eh, you could always sit in bed and read. It wouldn’t bother me.”
Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. He had not meant to say that.
Aziraphale’s cheeks went pink, and he cleared his throat. “That’s, um, very kind of you.”
“Oh, shut up,” Crowley snapped, grateful for the more familiar ground. “I’m a demon, I’m not kind.”
“Mhm.” Aziraphale seemed more at ease now too, his shoulders relaxing. “Oh, would you mind getting my dinner jacket out for me?”
“Yeah, ‘course.” It only took Crowley a minute to find the jacket in Aziraphale’s luggage. Mainly because the angel hadn’t actually brought anything except the dinner jacket, three boxes of shortbread, several scattered cocoa packets, a box of tea, and… “That’s why this was so heavy! How many books did you bring?”
Aziraphale pouted. “As many as I needed. You wouldn’t want me to run out, would you?”
Crowley just stared at him for a moment, utterly smitten. Aziraphale was infuriating sometimes, always ridiculous, and Crowley loved him more than anything. Loved him because he was infuriating, ridiculous, kind, gentle, and absolutely the most interesting being in all Creation.
But saying any of that would cause a catastrophe. So Crowley just gave an aggravated sigh, miracled away the wrinkles in Aziraphale’s jacket, and held it out. “Come on. Dinner time.”
Chapter 2
The dining room was simply magnificent, light glittering off elegant chandeliers and a great deal of crystal. Three long tables formed a “U” shape, with a smaller table just ahead of them. A man and a woman—likely the event organizers—already sat at the small table, waving and calling greetings as guests trickled in.
Sudden anxiety pressed on Aziraphale’s chest, and he instinctively moved closer to Crowley. Seemingly just as instinctive, Crowley wrapped an arm around him. “Angel? What’s wrong?”
“Hmm?” Aziraphale asked vaguely, distracted from his anxiety by the gentle, reassuring way that Crowley was holding him. “Oh, nothing much. Just a bit nervous about whether we’ll be convincing.”
“We’ll be convincing. Remember, it’s just like being spies.” Crowley smiled at him, then reached to smooth his hair. A shiver rushed through Aziraphale at the touch. “Besides, you’re so damn enthusiastic about food that it should make up for me not eating much. Just be yourself.”
“I just hope nobody looks at us and immediately deduces that we’re not, well…” Aziraphale waved his hand aimlessly. “Not together.”
“Everyone has assumed we’re together for ages,” Crowley said bluntly. “We’ve been friends for six thousand years. I think it’s pretty easy to tell at a glance that we care about each other.”
“Oh… I suppose that’s true.” But oh, Aziraphale’s chest ached terribly now. No longer from anxiety, now simply from longing. It would be so wonderful to really be married.
He glanced down at the wedding ring on his finger, a simple gold band. Just wearing it felt like a lie… but also a hope. Even if it was merely a vain hope.
Crowley found two seats marked with their names, and they sank into them. Aziraphale clutched his hands together nervously, and Crowley was bouncing his leg vigorously enough to make the table shake. That would certainly be noticeable.
It was time to stop fretting and to put on a good show. Aziraphale wiggled, straightening up, and laid his hand on Crowley’s thigh. “Well, my dear. Didn’t I tell you think would simply be the most marvelous outing for us? What a lovely hotel.”
Crowley looked to him, startled, and a smile crept onto his face. “Only the best for my angel.”
The light clinking of a spoon against glass called their attention to the smaller table. “Welcome to our annual celebration of food and love!” called a woman with warm brown skin and beautiful dark, curly hair. “My name is Catherine DuPont, and I’ll be one of your hosts. We’ve brought in some spectacular speakers and food artists, and we’ll all have a marvelous time. Are you hungry?”
Titters of assent rose, and waiters moved in with platters of food. Aziraphale watched eagerly, tummy rumbling. A nice dinner ought to help him relax.
It was a very, very nice dinner. Light soups to start, and then several rather fancy dishes and sides. The servings weren’t nearly big enough—they were samples, after all—but the sheer quantity made up for it. And Crowley passed each of his dishes to Aziraphale with a fond look, which helped too.
Aziraphale let out a pleased noise and dabbed a bit of sauce away from his lips. “Do you like the wine?” he asked Crowley, a little guilt tugging at his tummy. He’d gotten so distracted by the food that he’d barely paid attention to his friend.
Crowley gave a lazy smile. He was leaning back in his chair, one arm hooked across the back, wine glass in his other hand. He looked very cool and relaxed and absolutely gorgeous. “Yup. How’s your food?”
“Oh, it’s simply wonderful!” Aziraphale wiggled, rubbing his hands together. “It ought to be desserts next. I’m so looking forward to it.”
“I might actually try some desserts,” Crowley said. He tilted his head, then reached out. His long fingers brushed against Aziraphale’s lips, and Aziraphale nearly swooned. “Got a little sauce there, angel.”
Before Aziraphale could respond, the elderly lady seated beside him spoke. “You two are just the sweetest young couple. Aren’t they, dear?”
Her wife leaned to look at them, pushing up her glasses. “Oh, they are. Been together long?”
“Very long,” Crowley replied, a slight rough edge in his voice as he took Aziraphale’s hand and squeezed. “Feels like forever. Right, angel?”
Aziraphale smiled at him, relieved that he’d answered, then turned back to the humans. They both had pale skin and very white hair, one wearing rather a lot of makeup and the other a more moderate amount. And oh, they looked so happy to be here. “Yes, forever. Have you two been together long?”
“Oh, yes,” his neighbor said with a chuckle. “We grew up in the same little village! I’m Ethel, and this is Rosamund.”
Rosamund—the one with less makeup—waved cheerily. “Ethel and I were always sneaking out of school together to steal strawberries. What about you, dear?”
“Oh, I’m Aziraphale, and this is—” Oh drat, he could hardly refer to his supposed husband by his last name. “This is Anthony.”
“I think she was asking where you met, love,” Ethel said, smiling. “Did food bring you two together as well?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, yes.” Aziraphale warmed at the memory of that first conversation, of Crowley kindly listening to him. “We met because of an apple!”
Crowley choked on his wine.
The arrival of dessert rescued Aziraphale from answering any more questions. He gently thumped Crowley on the back as the demon coughed, guilty. “Are you okay, dear boy?”
“Tickety-boo,” Crowley grumbled, face bright red. He cleared his throat and gave Aziraphale a look that made it quite clear he was to avoid explaining their actual history to anyone.
And then there was chocolate everywhere. Aziraphale gasped, delighted, and dug into the first piece of cake.
---
Crowley had planned to eat some of the desserts. He really had. But eating cake was much less appealing than watching Aziraphale do so.
He’d always enjoyed watching Aziraphale eat. The angel took such pleasure in it, savoring every bite. He was always beautiful, but there was something special about this. Maybe it was because, as Aziraphale said, they met because of an apple.
But no, it was more than that. So much of their shared history was built on food and drink. Nibbling on dates and drinking beer in Uruk, oysters and wine in Rome, crepes and more wine in Paris. Lunches and dinners at the Ritz. And picnics, sprawled together on a blanket happily chatting away under the warm sunlight.
Aziraphale turned to him, smiling with sheer delight, and Crowley’s breath caught. He reached out, no control over his hand, and cupped Aziraphale’s soft cheek. He gazed into the hazel eyes, every bit of his soul crying out to lean in for a kiss.
Crowley forced himself to grin instead. “Having fun?”
But although he’d expected Aziraphale to pull back, the angel leaned into his touch. “So much fun. Do I have something on my cheek, dearest?”
Dearest. Oh, Somebody, he was gonna die. Aziraphale’s endearments always pierced right through him, striking deep into the vulnerable parts of himself. Effortlessly dismantling all the defenses he’d put up.
“N-nuh,” he choked, risking a light caress against Aziraphale’s cheek. Maybe he should say something. Not much, just a bit to test the waters. “It seemed like, er, the right thing to do. Y’know, this is actually—”
“I hope everyone enjoyed their meal!” Host Lady called from the small table. Crowley hissed softly in irritation at the interruption, and Aziraphale pulled away from his touch. “Now, we have a wonderful lineup of speakers for the next week, as well as many more delicious dishes for you. And exhibits about some interesting food history!”
It would probably all be inaccurate food history. As the humans went on and on about the event, Crowley brooded. It would be a fucking awful idea to tell Aziraphale how he felt. What had he been thinking? Especially here, now. He wanted Aziraphale to have fun.
But the thought wouldn’t go away, not even when they got back to their room. Especially when they got back to their room. That big bed wasn’t made for one, after all.
Maybe there wouldn’t be any real harm in saying something. It wasn’t like he and Aziraphale would jump straight into having wild sex. He didn’t even know if Aziraphale was interested in that kind of intimacy. But it would be so fun to just curl up together amid all the softness, to wrap his arms around his angel…
“Oh, that was just lovely.” Aziraphale shrugged out of his tan dinner jacket and unbuttoned his waistcoat. Crowley shivered at the view of his soft belly, hands itching with the need to touch. “I think this is off to a wonderful start, don’t you?”
“Yeah, it really is. And I think we, er. Make a pretty convincing couple.” Suddenly trembling, Crowley dragged a hand through his hair. There was a tightness in his chest now, and he couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact even with his sunglasses still on. “You know, we…”
And then he froze up. What was he supposed to say? Hey, Aziraphale, I’ve loved you for literal millennia, wanna hook up?
“We what?” Aziraphale’s face had gone very frozen too, hands clutched tight together and pulled back against his belly. He stared at Crowley with something like anticipation.
Or horror. Worst case scenario, horror.
And while Crowley was an optimist at heart, he believed in respecting worst case scenarios. He gave a little shrug, letting his hair fall back across his brow. “If we ever get bored, we could go be real spies again. I think we’re pretty great at it.”
“Oh. Oh, yes.” Aziraphale gave a tiny smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I suppose we are. At pretending to be, um.”
They just stood there, both staring at the floor. Crowley wrestled with his emotions, kicking himself. Had he disappointed Aziraphale? Let him down? What if Aziraphale really did feel something for him?
“Or,” he started.
“Or there’s many books to read!” Aziraphale interrupted, hands no longer still. They flailed wildly, fluttering around him with no real direction. “Anyway! Good night, Crowley!”
He fled to the sitting area, seemed to realize he didn’t have a book, and rushed back to snatch one. Then he fled again.
Crowley’s gut wrenched as Aziraphale settled into the only chair facing away from the bed. Well, shit. That hadn’t gone as planned.
---
After two days of the symposium, Aziraphale had decided this was a special sort of torture. Being so close to Crowley all the time, expected to hold his hand, to touch him, but not to give in to feelings…
He wasn’t sure how much longer he could do it.
At the moment, they were enjoying—or pretending to enjoy, which might be more accurate given his fretting—a buffet. He went about the room on Crowley’s arm, investigating all the available foods. Crowley had been a bit quiet since the awkward end to their first day, although playing the part well whenever they were in public.
Crowley tipped his head to Ethel and Rosamund. “Ladies. Enjoying yourselves?”
“Oh, always,” Ethel said, wrinkles deepening as she smiled. “But you two look a bit down. Not trouble in paradise, I hope?”
Crowley stiffened, and Aziraphale’s heart began to pound more quickly. Oh, he couldn’t let any suspicion leak out. “Oh, not at all,” he said, smiling. “I’m afraid I just spent a bit too much time reading this morning and neglected my dear husband.”
It was the first time he’d actually said those words, actually called Crowley his husband, and they slammed into him with all the force of a lorry. He nearly began to cry, aching for them to be true.
But instead of crying, he pressed a slow kiss to Crowley’s cheek. Crowley’s eyes closed behind the dark lenses, and he leaned into the contact with a soft noise. Aziraphale pressed another, hoping it would at least soothe him.
“Aww, there.” Rosamund smiled, approving. “You be sure to dote on that man as much as he dotes on you.”
“Yes, quite. Um.” Aziraphale cleared his throat, trembling, and tugged on Crowley’s arm. “Come now, Anthony. Let’s go explore the desserts.”
He drew Crowley away from their fellow guests and off to a more isolated dessert table. Crowley relaxed a bit and snorted, shaking his head. “Someone save me from well-meaning matchmakers.”
“Well, technically, I don’t think they’re matchmakers. Seeing as we’re married and all.” Aziraphale winced at the statement, flushing red. “Pretending! Pretending to be married. Um. Yes.”
“Why are we pretending?” Crowley asked. The words were soft, as if they’d just slipped out. Did he even know he’d said them?
“So that, um…” Aziraphale swallowed hard, reaching to stroke his hair. He brushed the errand strands off Crowley’s brow, smoothed it. “So that we can go to a fancy symposium and eat lots of goodies. Which… good Lord, Crowley, you are so patient with me.”
Crowley gave him an utterly confused look. “Wot?”
“You didn’t have to do this.” Tears rose again, and Aziraphale tried to blink them away. “You could have simply told me to pick a different event, rather than coming up with this whole plan of pretending we’re husbands.”
“Aziraphale, I wasn’t gonna let you be sad. You wanted to go to this event.” Although the overhead lighting shadowed Crowley’s eyes behind the dark lenses, Aziraphale could tell the demon was gazing right at him. “So I made it happen. Whatever I can do for you, I always will. You know that.”
The tender sincerity in Crowley’s voice nearly brought Aziraphale to tears in earnest. Oh, it was unbearable. He couldn’t hide it any longer, not another moment. “You have always been the most remarkable, devoted friend. And—”
“Everyone gather around, it’s time for photos!” Catherine’s voice rang out, and Aziraphale and Crowley both jumped. “Your copy of the couple’s photo is included in your special event package, so we like to take it when everyone’s fresh. And after, we’ll have a special demonstration of the best cooking activities and dining habits to keep your marriage strong.”
It was almost too much to bear. Aziraphale shifted his weight, as if to flee. He couldn’t keep pretending, but it wasn’t as though he could say anything in front of these people. What if Crowley rejected him?
“We don’t have to get a photo if you don’t want,” Crowley said, voice a little shaky. “Or I can take a selfie of us later.”
“That’s… very kind.” Aziraphale pressed a hand to his chest. He couldn’t catch his breath, and his head had gone all spinny. But… “I do want a photo, though. But perhaps we can skip the special cooking-while-married demonstration. I’d like to go back to our room, rest for a bit.”
“Sure, angel.” Brow furrowed with worry, Crowley caressed his cheek. “Anything you like.”
---
The most remarkable, devoted friend.
It was all Crowley could do to keep from crying. At least his sunglasses shielded his eyes, stopped the tears from showing.
He glanced down at his hand, at the plain gold band. He’d only really thought of it as part of the disguise at first, even though it stirred up some emotions. But now, after days of wearing it…
It felt right, and so did having Aziraphale on his arm. Kissing his cheek, stroking each other’s hair, holding hands. It all felt so right.
But did it feel right to Aziraphale too? What else had he meant to say before they got interrupted again?
“Kisses!” Ethel and Rosamund, giggling like the schoolchildren who had apparently stolen strawberries from every single person in their village, posed with their lips touching. The camera flashed, a painfully bright burst of light, and Crowley let out a groan of discomfort.
“Dearest?” Aziraphale’s hand was on his cheek at once, tender. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nnnh, just the flash of the camera.” They were in line for their own photo, and it hurt more the closer they got. “I’ve never been good with bright lights.”
“I know. I’m sorry I ought to have thought of that.” Worried, Aziraphale searched his face. “Do you want to skip the photo? I don’t want you to be in pain.”
Crowley shook his head, touched. “Nah, but thanks for asking. I’ll be okay.”
And then they were up next. He gritted his teeth, then forced himself to relax. It would be fine, no big deal.
He wrapped his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders, and the angel’s arm slipped around his waist. This was comfortable enough, not too intimate.
“Get closer together,” the cameraman said sharply. “And you must remove your sunglasses.”
“No, I need to keep ‘em on.” If he had to take his sunglasses off around this many people, he’d probably have a panic attack. Plus having his eyes show up in a photo would blow their cover. “You can just take the photo.”
The cameraman frowned, putting his hands on his hips. “No, I can’t. You must take them off. Now, or else I won’t photograph you.”
“How dare you?” The anger burst off Aziraphale like a heatwave, so strong that Crowley could feel it. “You will not give my husband ultimatums! I will not allow it.”
The sheer glory of Aziraphale getting this protective made Crowley dizzy. He gazed at his angel in awe, warmth swelling in his chest. Oh, Somebody, he loved this angel so much.
“But the glare from the lenses—”
“I rather suspect your objection is more because someone didn’t immediately follow your orders,” Aziraphale snapped, bristling even more. “But I have one idea for how to negate any worries of glare.”
Aziraphale whipped to face Crowley, eyes flashing fire. He reached up, grasped Crowley’s lapels, and pulled him into a kiss.
His lips were soft, warm, as welcoming as Crowley had ever imagined. Crowley brought his hands to Aziraphale’s sides, sinking into the kiss, whimpering at the overwhelming sparks of pleasure that burned through him. Did this mean Aziraphale loved him too?
A bright flash of light, and they broke apart. Aziraphale stared at him for a moment, chest heaving, eyes wide with something like terror. Shit.
Crowley reached to cup his cheek, no longer caring about the human audience. There was only Aziraphale. “Angel?”
Aziraphale’s lips moved as if he was about to say something, and he let out a faint whimper. Then he turned and ran, leaving Crowley behind.
For a moment, Crowley just stood there. This was all his worst nightmares come to life, every worst case scenario at once. Aziraphale rejecting him, Aziraphale being horrified by him. This must be his fault, he must have gone too fast.
But Aziraphale had kissed him, hadn’t he? Yeah, but only after Crowley came up with this stupid plan. It was his fault, all his fault, he’d fucked everything up.
“Don’t worry, love.” A gentle voice, a pat on his arm. Struggling not to cry, Crowley turned to see Ethel right beside him. “I’m sure he just feels guilty about reading too much.”
“Nuh, he…” Crowley swiped at the escaping tears, hand knocking into his sunglasses instead. “It’s not him. It’s me. I always fuck everything up.”
“Go after him,” Rosamund said, holding out a bottle of wine. “He loves you, and you love him. That’s a solid foundation for patching up any spats.”
Blowing out a long breath, Crowley took the wine. “Thanks.”
And then, with a gentle chorus of encouragement from a room full of well-meaning humans, Crowley followed his angel.
Chapter 3
Aziraphale shoved into their room, gasping for breath. But there was no air, he couldn’t get any air. His head spun, and his legs wobbled underneath him.
Hot tears streaming down his cheeks, he collapsed onto the sofa. Sobs wrenched through him. He tried to take a deep breath, to calm himself, but it strangled off in his throat.
What had he done? What had he been thinking? He must have just destroyed their friendship, Crowley would never forgive him, never speak to him again…
“Angel?” The door banged open, and rapid footsteps thumped across the room. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not!” Aziraphale tried to look up at him through the haze of tears. Crowley had pulled his sunglasses off, eyes wide and worried. “I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
Before he could say anything else, Crowley dropped onto the sofa and dragged him into a hug. One arm wrapped around his back, and slender fingers curled around the base of his neck. “Shhh, it’s okay. Okay, Aziraphale. I’m here.”
“Oh…” Weeping, Aziraphale turned into the hug. He buried his face in Crowley’s thin shoulder, breaths still coming too fast. “Oh, Crowley, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done such an awful thing.”
“Personally, I don’t think kissing you is awful,” Crowley said softly. “I’d love to do it again, if you would.”
“But…” Aziraphale struggled to slow his breaths, to calm himself. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, so loud. “I th-thought… I didn’t think you liked me that way. Romantically.”
The words just slipped out, and his breaths cut off completely. Oh no. Oh no, he’d made it even worse.
He jerked back, and there were tears on Crowley’s cheeks. Oh no, what had he done? What if after this, Crowley didn’t even want to be friends?
But then Crowley almost smiled, reaching to cup his cheek. “So, I’ve been walking around all this time trying to hide my feelings… and you liked me all along?”
“Of course I like you!” Aziraphale pouted, hurt by the implication. “I would hardly have agreed to pretend to be your husband if—”
“Why are we pretending?” Crowley asked again.
It was the same question as earlier, the one that had seemingly escaped without conscious thought. But now, Aziraphale saw it in a different light.
“You mean… we could actually be husbands?” he asked carefully, unsure whether he’d understood properly. “You… want to be husbands?”
“Yeah.” Crowley clasped his left hand, thumb stroking across the wedding ring. “I do. Do you?”
“Yes.” Aziraphale’s eyes flooded with tears, and he instinctively leaned in. “I do.”
They kissed then, lips pressing tentatively together. Aziraphale’s tummy swooped, his head spinning at the intensity of feeling.
And not just his feelings. A wave of love exploded from Crowley, so strong that it knocked the breath out of Aziraphale’s lungs. He could always feel Crowley’s love, a comfortable warmth around them at all times, but this! This was something entirely different.
They broke apart, breathing hard. Crowley brushed his fingers against Aziraphale’s lips, just as tender as the kisses. “I love you, Aziraphale.”
Aziraphale let his own hand rise, tracing the sharp lines of Crowley’s face. “I love you too, Crowley. In every way possible.”
Crowley grinned, tears trickling down his cheeks. “This calls for a celebration. The humans gave me a bottle of wine, want some?”
“I want…” What did he want? Everything. “Wine, yes. But also…”
The requests caught in his throat. Even now, how could he ask Crowley for what he wanted?
“S’ all right.” Crowley’s voice was gentle, kind. “We mighta rushed into things a little. It’s okay if you need to slow down.”
“No, no. It’s not that, dear fellow.” Aziraphale patted his hand absently. “I’m just a bit overwhelmed, that’s all. There’s so much we can do, and I haven’t the vaguest idea where to start.”
“Hn, okay. I get that.” The corner of Crowley’s mouth quirked in a smile. “D’ya want me to pick?”
Aziraphale sighed, a bit irritated with himself. “If you wouldn’t mind. I’m sorry, I’m being quite silly.”
“No, you’re not. And you know me, I love rushing to the rescue.” Crowley snapped his fingers, and two glasses filled with wine. “How about this. Wine and holding hands to start, see where we go from there?”
“Oh, that sounds so lovely.” Aziraphale slid his hands into Crowley’s grasp. The touch once again sent a jolt through him, powerful longing for more. But at the same time… “Goodness, this is intense.”
“Yeah, it’s… a lot.” Crowley shivered, breaths hitching. He took a gulp of his wine, then turned to press his brow to Aziraphale’s. “We’re all right. There’s no rush for anything, angel.”
Still trembling, Aziraphale leaned into the gentle contact. The familiar smoke and burnt matches scent soothed him once again, although it did still stir up longing for all sorts of other things. “Perhaps we can kiss more? And hug?”
“Sure, angel.” After a moment, Crowley drew back and downed the rest of his wine. He set his cup down, lifted an eyebrow. “You wanna try that now?”
Suddenly unable to speak, Aziraphale nodded. Crowley lifted a trembling hand, brushed it against his cheek. Their lips met, a brief brush before separating. Easing into it.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Crowley whispered, fingers tracing under Aziraphale’s jaw. “I wanna kiss you absolutely everywhere.”
Aziraphale giggled. He couldn’t help it, flooded with emotions. “You’re awfully naughty.”
Crowley snorted, a smile tugging at his face. “M’ trying to be romantic, you bastard.”
“Mm. Well, you are doing quite a good job of it.” Breaths shallow, Aziraphale let his own hand wander. Along Crowley’s jawline, down the fine lines of his neck. All the way to rest over his heart.
He leaned in again, capturing Crowley’s lips in another kiss. This time lingering, a slow exploration. Aziraphale’s heart raced at first, feelings nearly swamping him. Oh goodness, he had no idea what he was doing, no idea how to handle this.
But Crowley’s hand shook as he cupped Aziraphale’s cheek, and the mutual nervousness was oddly reassuring. Crowley was very cool, yes, but he was just as vulnerable in this moment. Just as unpracticed.
Well, they would practice. And together, they would learn what they enjoyed.
---
A few more brushes of lips, and then Crowley let himself explore a bit more. He shifted his attentions to Aziraphale’s soft cheeks, then to his forehead. Aziraphale’s lips curved in a smile, eyes closing as Crowley showered him with affection.
“Does this feel okay?” Crowley asked, still uncertain. He couldn’t push, couldn’t risk making Aziraphale uncomfortable.
“It feels so very wonderful.” The hazel eyes opened, picking up glimmers of gold from their surroundings. Aziraphale stilled him with a gentle finger against his lips, and Crowley raised an eyebrow in question. “May I return the favor?”
Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale leaned in. He followed the same path of kisses, first a brush to the lips and then up Crowley’s cheek. And oh, Somebody, it was amazing.
The sheer tenderness brought a lump to Crowley’s throat, and he closed his eyes. He had a strong imagination, but he’d never really let himself entertain the idea that he might get what he wanted, everything he dreamed about. That Aziraphale would really love him like this.
Gentle hands touched his arms, guiding him forward. He went without opening his eyes, trusting Aziraphale.
And then he was being hugged, his head cradled to a solid shoulder. Aziraphale rocked slightly, a hum of contentment slipping from him. “Oh, my Crowley. I do love you so very much.”
A shiver rushed through Crowley, and he pressed his face into Aziraphale’s neck as tears rose. “Love you,” he mumbled against the soft skin, wrapping his arms around his angel. “Sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”
“Dearest.” Aziraphale’s hand skimmed across his hair, a little shaky and uncertain. “Neither of us said anything. I’m still a bit, um, embarrassed by the whole scene downstairs.”
“Are you kidding?” Crowley hugged Aziraphale tighter, melting against the softness of his body. He could stay here all day. All week. “That was fucking awesome. You went full Principality on that cameraman.”
Aziraphale gave a soft chuckle. “Well, I suppose I did. But he was being so rude to you! And I certainly wasn’t going to let him hurt your eyes with his silly camera flash.”
“My hero.” Laughing, Crowley gave Aziraphale an even tighter squeeze. “Love that about you. You’re really protective.”
“As are you, dear boy. And I… oh goodness, it’s so exciting to be able to say these things.” Another squeeze, and then Aziraphale sat back. His eyes were bright, whole face lit up with joy. “I love that about you too, Crowley. I love your fierceness, your bravery, your determination… and, although you’ll protest, your kindness.”
“Hrgk.” Suddenly feeling more shy than he’d ever felt in his life, Crowley hid his face in Aziraphale’s fluffy curls. “Gonna make me blush, angel. S’ not fair.”
“Well, there might be a way to make me blush too.”
There was an odd note in Aziraphale’s voice. When Crowley pulled back, the angel’s cheeks were already red. “Wot?”
Aziraphale gave a little wince, as if embarrassed. His eyes darted to the bed, then back to Crowley. “Could we, um… try snuggling?”
“Oh, fuck yes.” The thought of curling up in the big bed with Aziraphale—all that softness, so much softness—was irresistible.
Crowley hopped up and held out his hand, and Aziraphale took it. They went to the bed together, and Aziraphale hesitated. “Um. Goodness. I haven’t even laid down in a bed in, oh… at least a few hundred years.”
Snorting, Crowley flopped down. “Look, it’s easy. And we don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, okay?”
Aziraphale’s expression softened into one of utter adoration. “I know. I’m not the slightest bit worried about that. You’re very careful with me, my dear.”
He laid down beside Crowley and gave a long, contented sigh as he sank into the thick blankets. Crowley grinned at the sight. “You look perfect there. Fit right in with the color scheme, the fluffiness…”
Beaming, Aziraphale reached to ruffle his hair. “While you, my dear, are like the focal point in a piece of beautiful artwork. Such a contrast with the surroundings, standing out while still looking quite in the right place.”
Crowley ducked his head, grinning as Aziraphale’s fingers gently scritched across his scalp. “Where the Heaven did you learn how to give compliments like that?”
“Books,” Aziraphale answered promptly.
“Oh. Of course.” Crowley rolled his eyes, then flopped into the pillows. He reached out, tracing his finger along the softness of Aziraphale’s jawline. “You know why I look like I’m in the right place though, yeah?”
“Um.” With a confused look, Aziraphale leaned into the touch. “Because you like pretending to be James Bond, and fancy hotels aren’t the most unusual setting for those books and films?”
Crowley chuckled, then leaned to kiss Aziraphale’s cheek. “Okay, valid, but no. I’m in the right place because you’re here. Wherever you are, that’s my right place.”
Tears misted Aziraphale’s eyes, and he pulled Crowley back into a hug. He sniffled, and Crowley nuzzled into his neck. “My dear Crowley,” Aziraphale choked. “And where the Hell did you learn how to give compliments like that?”
Crowley snuggled closer, right where he belonged. “Films.”
---
Aziraphale laid back in the big cushy bed with his eyes closed, basking. This was truly the best day he’d ever had, even with the panic attack earlier. All misunderstandings were out of the way, all feelings out in the open. There was no need to hide.
At least, that was how he felt. Crowley, however, had pressed his face into Aziraphale’s stomach ten minutes ago and still hadn’t re-emerged.
Smiling, Aziraphale opened his eyes and skimmed a hand over the red hair. “Crowley, dearest.”
“Mm?” Crowley asked without moving.
“Is everything all right?” A grunt in response, and Aziraphale sighed. “If you’re feeling a bit emotional, you don’t need to be ashamed of it. Today has been rather intense.”
“S’ not that.” Crowley’s voice was somewhat muffled by the ample tummy. “Really like your stomach. Good pillow.”
Heavens, he was ridiculous. “Do you always smash your face into your pillow?”
“Not always.” Snuggling closer, Crowley turned so Aziraphale could see his face. He did look wonderfully relaxed and very happy. So, so content. “If you’d joined me in bed sooner like I offered—just to read, mind—you would already know the answer.”
“Well, I was a bit worried that I might end up in precisely this situation,” Aziraphale said mildly, scritching across Crowley’s scalp.
Crowley grinned and pushed up into the touch. “I’ve got you now. You’re trapped.”
“Oh dear, how dreadful. I suppose I shall have to miss being hounded by all the humans.” After what had happened earlier with the cameraman and the kiss, Aziraphale wasn’t certain if he could face them again.
But that brought a frown to Crowley’s face. “I don’t want you to miss your symposium, angel. You were so excited for it.”
Aziraphale contemplated for a moment. The food was yummy, yes. But still. “I think I’m rather more eager to explore our newfound relationship.”
“Marriage,” Crowley corrected, grinning again. He caught Aziraphale’s hand, kissed it. “If you wanna have an actual wedding though, we can.”
“Hmm, I’ll consider it.” It might be fun, but they had no real need for a big ceremony. He and Crowley had been devoted to each other for simply ages, after all. “I am very, very happy to have a husband.”
“So am I.” Pushing up, Crowley kissed him. Then he flopped down again, laying on his back with his head on Aziraphale’s tummy. He chuckled. “Your stomach’s growling. Sure you wanna skip dinner?”
“Oh, I am a bit peckish…” Aziraphale bit his lip, conflicted. He hadn’t gotten to eat much earlier, and the food was so yummy. “I’d like food, but I don’t feel like leaving the room. Or the bed, for that matter.”
“Ooh. Well, I’m onboard with staying in bed all day. Or all week, mind. Especially if there’s snuggling” With a grin, Crowley shoved back into a seated position. “But I can’t let my angel be hungry.”
That heralded something exciting, so Aziraphale sat up straighter. He folded his hands and rested them on the curve of his tummy, watching eagerly.
Crowley closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled slowly, focusing. Then he snapped his hand up.
Dishes materialized on the bed. Yummy little sandwiches and bowls of mashed potatoes and an entire pot of some sort of pasta. And then desserts too, chocolates and cheesecake and ice cream.
“Oh, good Lord!” Aziraphale burst into laughter, finding Crowley’s hand and squeezing. “You truly do enjoy doing things to a rather excessive degree, don’t you?”
“Hn, maybe. I didn’t mean to grab the whole pot of pasta.” Cheeks tinted red, Crowley raked a hand through his hair. “Is this enough food?”
“Is this…” Laughing even harder now, Aziraphale pulled Crowley to snuggle up again. Oh, this was such fun. He’d never dreamed that they could do something like this, simply laze in bed together teasing each other. “Yes, my dear. This is quite enough food, but I’m afraid you’ve forgotten the alcohol.”
“Oh, shit! Can’t forget that.” Lips pursed in annoyance at himself, Crowley snapped his fingers. An abundance of wine and other beverages materialized on the end table. “There we go. That’s better.”
He picked up one of the little sandwiches and held it up. Aziraphale nibbled at it, blushing furiously. Oh, this was much more fun than the big dinner parties. And there was no one here asking pointed questions.
After he swallowed the sandwich, he stroked Crowley’s hair. “Thank you, my dear. If we’d like to entertain the humans, you could do that next time we join the other guests.”
Crowley snorted, but he was smiling. “Hey, they’d be thrilled. They all encouraged me to go after you, y’know.”
“Oh!” Touched, Aziraphale wiggled. “They did? That’s so nice of them.”
“Yeah. Well-meaning humans aren’t the worst thing, I guess.” Leaning in, Crowley kissed him gently. “They’ll celebrate that we’ve patched things up. Probably gossiping about us right now and how long we’ve been in our room. We’ll be the talk of the hotel.”
“Oh dear.” But there were worse things than being talked about in relation to Crowley. “I hope they’re all saying what a marvelous husband you are.”
“Nuh, you’re the marvelous husband.” Crowley pressed their foreheads together, letting out a contented noise. “I love you.”
“I love you.” The novelty of saying it hadn’t worn off yet. Aziraphale hoped it never would. “Well, I suppose I ought to eat some of this yummy food you brought up for me.”
“Go for it. And, er…” Drawing back, Crowley cleared his throat. He held up his hands, turned them palm up with a dramatic flair. “Can I groom your wings while you eat?”
Aziraphale wiggled again, utterly delighted, and drew his wings out. One of them buffeted Crowley’s hair, and Aziraphale laughed. “Oops.”
“S’ all right.” Smiling, Crowley gathered the white wing across his lap. “Here, budge up a little. There’s something I’ve absolutely always wanted to do, every single time we’ve groomed each other’s wings.”
“That sounds awfully exciting.” Careful not to disturb the food, Aziraphale slid forward.
Crowley moved behind him, hand settling at the base of his left wing. A slow, tender kiss pressed to the back of his wing, then to his shoulder, and then up to his neck.
A noise of pleasure escaping, Aziraphale leaned back into the tender kisses. “Oh, Crowley. I’m so delighted to be with you.”
“Me too. Love you, angel.” Crowley’s fingers moved through Aziraphale’s feathers, grooming gently as he kissed Aziraphale’s neck again.
“I love you.” Aziraphale closed his eyes, thoughts of food abandoned for now. Soon, he would enjoy the wonderful food that Crowley had provided for him. But for now, he would savor the sweet intimacy that he’d always craved.
Link to Gift 3
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