Happy Holidays, HolRose! Gift #3

[goe_mod]

Title: Gentle Wishes Long Subdued
Recipient: HolRose
Rated: E
Pairings: Aziraphale/Crowley
Summary: When given similar assignments, Crowley and Aziraphale decide to work together. The close contact stirs up their feelings for each other, but they each assume their love is unrequited. Will they be able to reach out to one another despite the risks?




London, 1606


Even with thick coal smoke clogging the air, and even with the bitter wind cutting through multiple layers of clothes, Crowley smiled.

He strode across the docks, bag slung over one shoulder, and headed back into the narrow, crowded streets of the city that was as close to home as a demon could have. After hundreds of years of using London as a base of operations, he’d grown attached to the place. Familiar, yet ever changing as the years wore on and humanity built and rebuilt and grew.

But there was one familiar element, one that he could always rely on. And that was the element that made London feel more like home than anything.

After dropping off his bag, changing into a clean doublet and cloak, and combing his hair, Crowley made his way to the Globe Theatre. That was always a good place to check first, in the afternoons when the plays were running.

Crowley squeezed through the crowd, scanning the raucous audience. A shock of fluffy blonde hair stood out among the crowd, as did the enthusiastic hand waving at the actors onstage. As expected, Aziraphale was here.

Suppressing a smile, Crowley slipped up behind him. He leaned forward, almost resting his chin on Aziraphale’s ridiculous ruff, and whispered, “He’s behind you.”

“Aaaaah!” Aziraphale jumped and flailed, and a handful of grapes flew up in the air. Crowley caught them. “Crowley!”

“Hi, angel.” Crowley put on the most casual, insouciant expression and slouch he could manage while this happy. He held out the grapes. “You dropped these.”

“Oh, you fiend!” Pouting, Aziraphale snatched the grapes back. “Shame on you. You’re disrupting the play.”

Eyebrow raised, Crowley glanced around at the humans. Absolutely no one was looking at them, all eyes fixed on the production of Hamlet. Burbage spouted more of Shakespeare’s dreary words with the appropriate drama, and sobs rose from the audience. “Honestly, I don’t think they even noticed us. Anyway. I’m back.”

He finally let his expression soften into a smile, heart pounding with excitement. Aziraphale’s expression softened too, into fond scolding. “Yes, I see that. Did you have fun in France?”

“I had good wine in France,” Crowley said cheerfully.

“Mmm, I imagine so.” Aziraphale munched on a few grapes, staring at the stage. And then he gave Crowley a shy smile. “Would you like to move to a box so we can talk without shouting? I-I have seen the play a few times, after all.”

“More like a few hundred times.” Crowley followed him towards the boxes, which were almost as packed as the pit. His miracle to make Hamlet a success had endured, the play still overwhelmingly popular years later. And it was just as popular with Aziraphale.

Crowley sank onto the crowded bench, chest tight. He and Aziraphale had to squeeze close together to fit, their arms and thighs touching. A shiver rushed through him.

“So,” he said, trying not to think about how easy it would be to take Aziraphale’s hand. “How’ve things been here?”

“Oh, the usual, more or less. I’ve been reading a great deal.” Aziraphale wiggled with excitement, the movement brushing their arms together again.

Crowley’s breath stuttered at the contact, and Aziraphale flushed bright red. Clearing his throat, the angel folded his hands in his lap and went back to watching the play.

It was impossible not to notice Aziraphale’s smell from this close, that singular combination of angelic purity, old books, and the light, clean scent of Aziraphale’s favorite soap. Crowley inhaled slowly, trying to settle his nerves with the sheer familiarity.

That backfired spectacularly. Instead of calming him, the deep breath sent a surge of tingling, insatiable curiosity. To breathe in that scent from even closer, to explore the softness of Aziraphale’s plump fingers with his own, to see those welcoming lips smiling at him in the same way that…

In the same way that Aziraphale was smiling at the play, not paying any attention to him at all.

Crowley shook himself, breaking the spell, and tried to edge a little further away. Maybe if he got some distance, paid attention to Hamlet’s depressing soliloquies…

But even from here, it was impossible not to be immediately drawn back into Aziraphale. The joy on his face, the eager way he gasped at the exciting bits of the play even though he’d seen it a billion times, the way his lip trembled when things took a sadder turn. His mere presence was as intoxicating as the strongest wine, and a thousand times more dangerous.

When the play finished, he applauded with the same exact exuberance that he’d shown every time they went to see it. He spun towards Crowley, cheek flushed with excitement. “Oh, my dear fellow. It’s always so wonderful to watch this with you. I’m sorry we haven’t chatted much yet, but I was just so…”

“S’ all right,” Crowley interrupted. He folded his arms, trying to keep his hands occupied so he couldn’t do anything stupid. “I’m really glad you enjoy it, Aziraphale. My treat, remember?”

Somehow, Aziraphale’s cheeks went even more red. He ducked his head and gazed up shyly through his lashes. “It truly does feel like your treat, each time.”

“Ngk.” Crowley felt his own face warm, and he tried to adopt a casual smile. Was pretty sure he failed. “Anyway. You wanna grab a drink?”

“Oh, certainly!” Aziraphale folded his own hands as soon as they stood, arms tucked against his sides. “I do have an awful lot of work to do, though. So I can’t stay out too late.”

Crowley waited to ask any questions until they were out on the street and away from the chattering crowd. It was already getting dark, the wind even more biting than earlier. He jammed his hands in his armpits. “What kinda work? More translations?”

“Mostly. Some wills to write out. You know how easy it is to pick up work for a man—well, angel—who’s skilled with letters.” Aziraphale beamed at him. “You ought to try it some time, rather than stealing.”

“I don’t steal!” Crowley protested, amused. It was always fun when Aziraphale decided to be a bastard. Unfortunately, though, it also made him even more irresistible. “I mean, I do sometimes. Alcohol, mostly. Or food for you. But I just miracle all my money.”

Aziraphale gave a sideways look and turned towards an Southwark inn they often frequented after plays. “And I presume that’s evil somehow?”

“Oh yeah, it…” Crowley scrambled for a reason. “Devalues the other currency. Or something. Hey, d’ya want wine or mead?”

The angel rolled his eyes at the pitiful attempt at distraction. But then a plate of steaming hot roast beef caught his attention, and he pointed to it. “I want that!”

Crowley dutifully paid for their meal, then settled in with his wine as Aziraphale sampled the inn’s entire menu. This really wasn’t helpful with those blasted urges either. Each time Aziraphale gave an excited wiggle, or rubbed his hands together, or ordered another dish… Crowley just wanted to grab him in a big hug and squeeze.

There was one other, even more unfortunate side effect of watching Aziraphale eat, though. As the angel wrapped his mouth around a spoon and slowly sucked off the bread pudding, Crowley’s entire body flushed hot with desire.

Shitshitshitshitshit.

He shifted uncomfortably on the bench and cleared his throat, then poured himself even more wine. He topped off Aziraphale’s too, then caught an unfortunate—but stunning—glimpse of Aziraphale’s tongue lightly teasing a tiny bit of bread that was stuck on the spoon.

Crowley itched to wipe the spoon clean, then to let Aziraphale lick bread pudding off his fingers. It would be sticky, but weren’t the best things sticky?

Or so he’d heard. He’d never done anything of the kind before. And he’d never wanted to do anything of the kind until he and Aziraphale became close friends. The closer they got, the more he had these annoying thoughts.

“Oh, oh, that was so scrumptious.” Aziraphale twirled the spoon, tongue sliding around it, and then beamed at Crowley. Crowley gulped, and the angel’s expression rumpled with concern. “Crowley? Is everything okay?”

“Y-yeah, s’ good. I just, y’know. Know you need to get off—to get back to work. Soon.” Oh gosh, this was humiliating. He shouldn’t be getting this flustered.

But Aziraphale just smiled and picked up his cup. “Oh, you’re so thoughtful. I do need to get back to work, sadly. But perhaps we can meet up for lunch again soon? I tried a simply delightful little restaurant the other day, very good pie.”

“Yeah, okay. Sounds like a plan.” Swallowing hard again, Crowley rose. They’d talked in between Aziraphale’s various dishes, but he already couldn’t even remember what about. There was only the longing, the almost painful squeeze in his chest that made him long for even the slightest brush of the angel’s hand.

Aziraphale definitely didn’t feel that way about him, though. He was an angel. But he did care about Crowley, in his own way, and they were friends. That would have to be enough.

---

Aziraphale threw down his quill with a huff and stood. He’d been working by candlelight all night, but he simply could not focus. And, unfortunately, he knew precisely why.

Crowley.

Whenever Crowley was out of the city, Aziraphale got a bit melancholy. Oh, he kept himself busy, of course. He had plenty of work to do, both Heavenly and Earthly. An angel ought to be dutiful, after all.

And when he wasn’t being dutiful, London had such delights! The plays, music, wonderful food and drink. And, of course, books. So very many books.

He trailed his fingers across a stack of them, imports from Italy that were waiting for translation notes. He worked far faster than any human, so perhaps it wasn’t too terrible that he’d rather neglected his work tonight. He could catch up later.

Sighing again, Aziraphale went to the window and pushed it open. Early morning light glowed through the smoke, and cries of wares for sale filled the air. London had its own melody, and it was one that Aziraphale enjoyed.

Normally enjoyed, at any rate. But today it merely annoyed him. He didn’t want to be listening to calls for fresh oysters, didn’t want to sample the delicacies alone in his lodgings. He wanted to find Crowley, take him by the hand, and lead him somewhere peaceful so that they could enjoy a full day of conversation without any worries at all.

Rather like their time together in Rome, really. Reclining on the dining couches, Crowley flashing that bright smile. Full throated laughter, the demon doubling over to slap his thigh with mirth. They’d had such fun that night, drinking and eating together.

“Stop moping, you old silly,” Aziraphale muttered to himself. “Crowley’s back now, and you had a perfectly lovely time yesterday. There’s no need to want anything else.”

But he did want something else. Sitting so close together in a box at the Globe, it had taken all his self control not to clasp Crowley’s slender hand in his. Crowley’s smell flooded his senses, that smoky aroma that clung to him at all times. Like a welcoming fireplace.

Aziraphale snorted. Oh yes, that was certainly one for the books. Simply the best “pick-me-up” line ever. “Oh hello, my dear. Did you know that you have the aroma of a welcoming fireplace? It’s quite attractive.”

Even saying such a ridiculous line brought a flush to his cheeks, and he firmly shoved the thoughts away. He’d done the same thing last night, immersing himself in food, drink, and of course the play.

Although the play only made him want to hug Crowley and never let go.

The tingle of a miracle rushed through the air, and a loud pop sounded. Aziraphale yelped, then turned to see a pure white, almost glowing scroll on the table.

Ah. It seemed he was perhaps not going to be finishing these translations today.

The scroll contained a list of assignments. To bless some people, to perform a minor miracle, to investigate reports of a strange, reclusive man who had recently required several dangerous occult objects.

None of these assignments were in London. He’d have to go by horse.

Frustrated, Aziraphale gathered his belongings and changed into more comfortable, less elaborate clothes. A simple tan outfit with bits of blue embroidery, along with a modest ruff. It had been awfully chilly lately, so he dug around until he found his warmest and second-warmest cloaks.

He didn’t want to leave London, especially not when Crowley had only just gotten back. No lunch together, then, and no more trips to the theatre together.

But perhaps it was for the best. Crowley certainly couldn’t have any sort of… special feelings for someone like Aziraphale. Aziraphale scarcely understood such feelings himself, after all.

He’d never had an interest in the sort of coupling that humans seemed to so enjoy. The idea of sweaty bodies tangling together in bed sounded so unappealing. He’d never understood why it sounded so interesting.

And then he and Crowley had grown closer, adversaries who very much enjoyed spending time together. And those feelings had grown inside Aziraphale, a confusing tangle. Both to grow closer to Crowley, to spend more time together. And, perhaps, even to explore the concept of falling into bed together.

But Crowley was certainly more worldly than Aziraphale, and infinitely “cool”. He would only be interested in someone just as suave, as capable. Not a bumbling fool who had given away his flaming sword on impulse and never made a smart decision since.

Saddened, Aziraphale made his way to the stables. He rented a horse, handing over money that he’d earned working on legal documents. Not at all “cool”, perhaps the most boring way to earn money possible. No wonder Crowley wasn’t interested in him.

Ah well. Aziraphale stopped beside the horse he’d rented, an old grey gelding with kind eyes and an adorable pink patch on his nose. Unable to resist, Aziraphale stroked the soft nose. The horse didn’t seem to object, just gazing at him levelly.

He wanted to touch Crowley like this, too. To caress his cheek. Not even anything naughty, necessarily. Just to stroke his cheek, or hand, or—

“You bloody menace, don’t… Ow! That’s my hip!”

Aziraphale twisted towards the familiar voice. He slung his saddlebags over his horse, then took the reins and moved into the aisle.

“Stop that!” A torrent of swearing, and then Crowley scrambled out of a stall as well. A big black horse towered behind him, ears pinned back, stomping. “You absolute wanker, I’m not asking a lot, just for you not to eat me.”

“Um?” Aziraphale called. “Do you need help?”

Crowley swiveled towards him, eyes wide. “Whoa. Aziraphale? What’re you doing here?”

Aziraphale held up his reins, and the grey gelding nuzzled his side. Perhaps in search of treats. “I’m renting a horse. Afraid I have some missions out of London, to the north.”

“Yeah?” Now ignoring his horse, which was snorting furiously, Crowley tilted his head. “North where?”

Oh goodness, it would be wonderful if they were going in the same direction. They could ride together.

After a deep breath, Aziraphale rattled off the list of locations. It was rather long. “And then I’m supposed to investigate this suspicious old fellow with some rather dangerous objects.”

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. “Horatio Chase?” Confused, Aziraphale nodded. “Whoa. Me too. You wanna, er…”

Aziraphale’s heart sank. Crowley would, naturally, invoke the Arrangement. “I suppose you’d like to flip a coin for the jobs?”

“Nnnh, no. Actually, uh…” Making a face, Crowley scratched his head. “Actually, I was thinking we could work together. Safety in numbers, y’know.”

“Work… together?” Aziraphale’s breath caught. They had certainly been on adjacent missions before. And filled in for each other. But this was entirely different. “I-I’m certain that’s not allowed, Crowley. I’m an angel, and you’re a demon.”

“Yup.” Crowley gave a tempting little side-to-side sway and lifted an eyebrow. “How about I buy you lunch? There’s gotta be an inn somewhere along the road, right?”

“Plenty of them,” Aziraphale said, still cautious.

He ought to say no. Ought to avoid temptation entirely, to stay away from Crowley and minimize those silly thoughts of hand holding and hugs.

And then Crowley’s horse nipped him on the hip again, and Crowley yelped. Aziraphale’s remaining resistance crumbled, and he sighed. “Well, I suppose I ought to go with you. You know, in my capacity as a, um, Principality. Someone must keep you safe from your horse, after all.”

A bright grin flared across Crowley’s face, so stunning that it took Aziraphale’s breath away. The demon sauntered out of the stable, angry horse trailing behind him. “All right, then. Come on.”

And, heart beating entirely faster than was reasonable, Aziraphale followed his friend down the road.





Ch2



A light drizzle started before they even reached the first village. Aziraphale glanced towards his adversary with longing. It would be lovely to extend a wing again, to shelter Crowley. But that might spook the horses, and Crowley was already having enough troubles.

“Stop… Hhhhng, come on!” Crowley squeezed his legs, trying to speed his horse up. The horse swished its tail and snorted. “Just keep up with Aziraphale, yeah? Look, that old grey horse is outpacing you. Be a shame if you got humiliated.”

Ears pinned flat back, the horse took off at a canter. Crowley yelped and flailed, trying to rein his mount back in.

Aziraphale battled a smile. While yes, he was always concerned about Crowley’s safety—guardian instincts, naturally—the poor dear was rather entertaining to watch. Even cuter when he was angry. The way his face flushed, the incoherent noises he made…

“What are you smirking at?” Lips pursed, Crowley guided his horse alongside Aziraphale’s calm gelding. “So far, I fail to see anything good about this trip.”

That was an easy opening, and Aziraphale took it with pleasure. “Oh, let’s see. No coal smoke, for one. Marvelous adventures ahead of us. The prospect of fascinating little inns with good food and drink. And, of course… companionship.”

This last was a risk, and his tummy twisted as soon as he said it. Oh, Crowley would think he was simply absurd.

But the corner of Crowley’s mouth lifted in a smile, and his eyes softened behind the small dark lenses. “Okay, so I guess there’s some perks. And it beats spending all day bribing politicians.”

“And there’s pretty trees!”

“Road doesn’t smell like piss and shit.”

“Language,” Aziraphale chided, unable to hide his smile even though he really ought to be above being amused by naughty words. Angels should maintain decorum, after all.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Sorry, I was forgetting myself. Road doesn’t smell like urine and excrement.”

He said the last few words with an exaggerated formal accent, stretching out and dragging each syllable before snapping off the final ‘t’. Aziraphale giggled, then blushed and looked away. Good Lord, he was behaving like a human youth with a crush.

Which was silly. Angels couldn’t get crushes. In five and a half thousand years, he’d never felt anything approaching the sensation.

Although, these feelings he had for Crowley…

Well. They were irrelevant, because demons couldn’t get crushes either, and Crowley certainly would not have one for him even if they could.

“So.” Crowley swayed temptingly in his saddle, then grabbed his horse’s mane for stability as it objected to the movement. “What’re you up to at the first village? I’m s’posed to talk someone into stealing a little bit of land from his neighbor, moving some markers around.”

“How droll,” Aziraphale said dryly. “My assignment is rather loftier than that. I’m to bless a member of the nobility who owns an estate near here. I hear he’s very devout.”

“Yeah? Which one?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale told him, and the demon snorted. “That’s the bugger I’m tempting.”

“Gosh.” That was rather unsettling. “I-I suppose we would cancel each other out on that, hmm? Perhaps best to skip it?”

“Probably, unless you wanna bless his efforts at land theft.” Biting his lip, Crowley dug in his pocket. He pulled out his list and a quill, and quickly marked off the first item. He lifted an eyebrow. “You wanna let me cross yours off too? I miracled my quill to be always full of ink.”

“Oh, that’s clever of you!” Aziraphale beamed at Crowley. “Yes, thank you.”

He found his own list and edged his horse a little closer to Crowley’s, then reached out with the parchment. As Crowley took it, their fingers brushed together.

A jolt crashed through Aziraphale, and his whole hand tingled. He darted a shy look at Crowley, but Crowley was fumbling with his fancy quill.

Aziraphale swallowed hard, then tried to speak in a calm tone. “So, where did you get the idea for your quill?”

Crowley marked off the blessing, then flashed a quick smile at Aziraphale. Their eyes met, just for a second, and then the demon gazed off down the road again. “Nowhere, really. I just got tired of needing to carry ink around.”

“Ah, I can hardly blame you for that.” Heart racing a bit too fast, Aziraphale patted his horse. “Um, may I have my list back?”

“Shit, sorry. I, er, got distracted.” Another quick grin, and then Crowley handed back the list. “Here you go. Where next?”

Aziraphale took it, careful not to touch Crowley again even though his fingers tingled at the mere thought. More contact was an awful idea. They had work to do, and no time for frivolous distractions.

---

At the next town, Crowley gratefully scrambled off his horse. Pain throbbed in his hips, back, and arse, and he massaged his hip in annoyance. “Snakes aren’t made to ride horses.”

Aziraphale climbed off his own horse with more composure. His eyes dropped to Crowley’s hips. “If you’ll forgive me for saying so, I’m afraid snakes aren’t made to have hips, either.”

Seeming to realize his gaze was lingering, Aziraphale quickly looked away. Crowley gave a soft hiss, reaching back to instead rub his spine. “Very funny, angel.”

“Well, I thought so.” Another shy look darted towards him, and Aziraphale stepped closer. Crowley leaned towards him, automatic. “I know we both have an awful lot of work to do, but perhaps we could grab a quick bite to eat at the inn? Before we get back on the road, I mean.”

They should skip the inn and get back on the road as quickly as possible if they wanted to actually finish these assignments in a reasonable time. But Crowley found himself smiling, heart racing again. “Sure, angel. Meet you at the inn after our jobs, yeah?”

They went their separate ways, Aziraphale bustling off to bless a couple people at the market while Crowley stopped at the tavern. He ordered ale and quickly drained it, trying to settle his nerves.

This was bloody ridiculous. He and Aziraphale were friends, had been for a long time. There was nothing more to it than that, no other sort of future possible.

Even this was way past what should be possible, honestly. An angel and a demon, friends? They should be sworn enemies, trying to destroy each other. But instead, they’d formed a bond. That was challenging the odds enough.

But that blasted part of Crowley that always challenged the odds, always pushed the limits… that part still wondered what else might be possible, no matter how hard he fought against it.

Irritated with himself, he tried to focus on work. He started a brawl over a dice game, encouraged a couple other people to cheat at cards, and bought several rounds of drinks for the whole tavern.

Convincing people to do things they already wanted to do could be fun sometimes, but this time it just left him frustrated and twitchy. He didn’t want to be in here encouraging banal, pointless sin. Not when Aziraphale was so close and so much more interesting.

After another round of drinks, Crowley ditched the tavern and made his way to the inn. It was getting dark, and the part of himself that enjoyed naps perked up. They could stay here tonight, curl up by a fireplace, crash out.

Or rather Crowley would doze while Aziraphale read one of the books crammed in his saddlebags. Maybe the angel wouldn’t mind his lap being used as a pillow. Or even better, they could rent a room, climb into bed together. Keep each other warm.

Crowley stopped by the door and thumped his hand against the wood. He really, really needed to get ahold of himself. Aziraphale was too decent, cared too much about propriety for that kinda thing.

When his heart rate had slowed, he pushed into the inn. Aziraphale was already there, looking around with a look of unmistakable anxiety. But the angel’s face lit up, and he waved to Crowley with the same enthusiasm he showed to the actors performing Hamlet. “Crowley! Over here!”

Villagers packed in the inn, chatting and laughing and singing drunkenly. But Aziraphale had saved him a spot off in a quieter corner. Crowley squeezed between two rows of people and dropped onto the bench beside Aziraphale. So close again, almost as close as they’d been during the play.

He shook that thought off and raised an eyebrow. “Get your blessings done?”

“I did, in fact! It all went quite well.” Beaming, Aziraphale slid him a cup. “I’ve ordered you wine, I hope that’s all right.”

Crowley returned the grin, heart lightened by his friend’s joy. “You know what I like, angel.”

---

It really wasn’t the best of ideas to spend so long in one village, not when their various assignments were scattered over nearly two hundred miles. They ought to have completed their jobs, rented fresh horses, and continued the journey north towards Sheffield.

But oh, this was so nice. Aziraphale nibbled on a piece of heavy dark bread slathered in butter as Crowley regaled him with stories of his trip to France. The plays he’d seen, the interesting new bookstores that Aziraphale ought to check out, the always sordid stories of the court and nobility.

Aziraphale loved hearing all about his adversary’s travels, and he eagerly asked questions. Which, of course, Crowley answered just as eagerly. But while the tales themselves were wonderfully told, it was the animated expressiveness of Crowley’s face that Aziraphale enjoyed most.

He’d long since learned to read all of Crowley’s expressions, even when the demon wore larger sunglasses that fully shielded his eyes. He was back to a more conservative pair at the moment, small dark lenses that only partially eclipsed the golden shimmer.

Those eyes were expressive, yes, but Aziraphale savored every twitch of expression, every variation of Crowley’s smile. The suppressed one when he feigned annoyance, the fond quirk at the corner of his mouth, the lazy curl of his lips when he was quite drunk and relaxed.

And then, of course, that marvelous grin. Often accompanied by laughter, a brilliant flash of teeth and sheer explosive delight. It swept Aziraphale away, left him utterly breathless and enthralled. Oh, how he wished he could see Crowley that happy every single day, every minute, every second…

A slender hand waved in front of his face. “Angel? Still in there?”

“Oh!” Cheeks hot, Aziraphale straightened up. Good Lord, had he simply been staring at Crowley in an enraptured daze? “Yes, very much so. I’m sorry, I lost track for a moment. You were saying?”

“Uh…” Crowley bit his lip, staring at his wine. One eyebrow climbed up, the other dipping down. And then he flashed that stunning grin, and Aziraphale once again lost the ability to breathe. “Dunno. I don’t think it was anything very important. I might, er, be a little drunk. Should maybe sober up if we’re gonna ride through the night.”

He gazed at Aziraphale, almost quizzical. As if waiting. But waiting for what? An invitation to stay here?

To stay here together?

Aziraphale couldn’t tear his gaze away from the golden eyes. He instinctively leaned in, fingers inching across the wooden table towards Crowley’s hand. So close, mere fractions of an inch apart, and Crowley’s fingers flexed as if about to move.

“Another song!” someone bellowed, and they both jumped as the inn broke into a rather bawdy tune.

Aziraphale jerked his hands back and folded them against his stomach, giving a quick, restrained smile. Beside him, Crowley grabbed his cup of wine and drained it in a few fast gulps, then cleared his throat.

“What happened to sobering up?” Aziraphale said, voice only a little uneven.

Crowley shrugged, very pointedly not looking at him. “Nyeh. Being sober is overrated.”

“Well. I suppose we really ought to get going regardless.” Aziraphale rubbed his hands together, already chilled at the idea of going back out into the low temperatures. The crackle of the fireplace had never seemed so appealing. “I’ll, um, go see to the horses. They ought to be well rested by now.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll settle up our tab.” Crowley leaned back and rolled his shoulders, teeth gritted. His long wavy hair dangled behind him, and Aziraphale’s fingers itched with the urge to stroke it. “I’m pretty well rested myself. You okay to travel tonight, angel?”

The concerned question sent a shiver of an entirely different sort through Aziraphale, and he gave a shy smile. “I-I am, yes. I don’t sleep, after all. It’s, um, jolly good.”

And then he fled before he could say something else foolish, not slowing until he was in the stable. He shut the door and leaned back against it, then closed his eyes and released his breath in a gust.

Oh, it would be so nice to stay here for the night. To enjoy that fireplace together. To sit beside it, a blanket wrapped around them both. To speak to each other in soft tones all night long, more stories of their exploits, and they could wrap their arms around each other and snuggle and—

No. That would all be entirely inappropriate. They were adversaries. Enemies.

Sighing, Aziraphale went to saddle their horses.

---

Riding through the night was not one of Crowley’s favorite things. It was colder than the day, for one thing. For another, although demons could see in the dark, it still made him jumpier.

He’d been friends with Aziraphale long enough to know how important it was to keep an eye on him. That blasted angel had a knack for getting in trouble, and then needing Crowley to get him out of it.

A point which he proved early in the morning, almost as soon as they reached the next village on their list.

Crowley was just buying a loaf of bread for Aziraphale when the raised voices caught his attention. He jerked his head up, fingers digging into the loaf.

“Oh, oh, I… Young man, do unhand me! That’s extremely rude!”

“Your kind aren’t welcome here! You know what we do to heathens?”

Shit. Crowley shoved the bread into his bag and dashed across the village market. Three men had Aziraphale backed against the side of a goat pen, a knife at his throat.

“There seems to be a-a-a misunderstanding,” Aziraphale said desperately. “I’m certainly not a heathen, in fact—”

“I saw you, waving your hand about and casting spells!” The man dug his knife in, and Aziraphale let out a little squeak. “You undo whatever magic you’ve done and give us all your coin, or I’ll—”

“Back off!” Crowley grabbed the man’s arm and wrenched on his wrist. The knife fell. Crowley kicked it away and shoved between the bastard and Aziraphale. “Anyone who touches him again will have to deal with me. You really wanna go there?”

He met their gazes, letting his crackling fury bristle outward like a shield. The humans automatically stepped back, face pale. The ringleader shook his head, lip trembling.

“I’m right here.” Crowley spread his arms wide, daring them. They wouldn’t take that dare. This lot were cowards, just saw a soft, easy target. They weren’t up for a real fight. “And I guarantee I’m more of a heathen than he is.”

Aziraphale let out another squeak, clutching at Crowley’s arm. “Crowley.”

“S’ all right, angel.” Crowley still didn’t turn to look at him, keeping his gaze locked on the would-be righteous warriors. “We’re all just gonna go on our way. Right?”

“Y-yeah. See that you…” The ringleader took several more shaky steps back, then pointed a dramatic finger. “See that you do! Begone! This is a good, devout village!”

They fled. Crowley hissed at their retreating backs, then turned back to his friend. “Angel? Are you hurt?”

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale was trembling, eyes wide. Blood trickled down his neck. “I was simply performing a blessing. I-I didn’t know what to do when they cornered me, I’m not supposed to hurt humans, I have strict orders!”

“Shh shh shhh, s’ all right.” Crowley took his soft face in both hands, thumbs stroking across his skin. “It’s all okay, Aziraphale. They were just wankers. I chased ‘em off for you.”

Aziraphale dropped his gaze and sank into Crowley’s touch, lip trembling. “Quite, um… quite pathetic of me. A Principality, frightened by some silly young men.”

“Hey, don’t talk about yourself like that.” Ducking down, Crowley tried to make eye contact again. “You know I never mind the chance to be dashing.”

Sniffling, Aziraphale tried to smile. He was still shaking, but he looked calmer already. “Yes, well. Y-you do a magnificent job of that, dear boy. Thank you for rushing to my aid.”

“’Course.” Crowley’s heart thudded frantically in his chest, stirred up by both the confrontation and by the feeling of Aziraphale’s face in his hands. He longed to lean in, to kiss away the tear that had just slipped out.

He restrained himself to wiping it away with his thumb. Then he slid his hand under Aziraphale’s chin, coaxing it up so he could examine the wound. Just a small cut, blood trickling down to stain Aziraphale’s ruff.

“They hurt you.” The words came out in a snarl, heat rushing through him again. A desire to hunt the bastards down and make them pay. But he had more important things to do. “Just a sec, let me heal this.”

“Oh, thank you.” Aziraphale’s breaths were still shaky, but he once again leaned into Crowley’s touch. “You’re very… very kind.”

Bloody smitten, that’s what he was. And absolutely awful at restraining himself from acting on it. “Shut it, m’ not kind.”

As soon as he finished healing the wound, he let go of Aziraphale and stepped back out of his personal space. Shit, he’d forgotten the stain.

He flicked his hand, and the blood vanished. Smiling, Aziraphale reached up and felt at his ruff. “Oh, thank you. I-I suppose… we ought to, um, finish up here and then move on.”

“Yeah.” Crowley paced in a full circle around him, scanning the village for threats. No one seemed to be paying attention to them now, at least. “I bought you some bread but it’s kinda… squished.”

Pursing his lips, he pulled the round loaf out of his bag and winced. It was indeed pretty squished, one side completely caved in.

Aziraphale giggled. “Oh my. Well, thank you for the thought anyway.”

“Nnh, hang on.” Crowley glanced around for observers again, then snapped his fingers. The loaf puffed back out, no longer damaged at all, and it warmed back up. “There, all better. Here you go.”

Aziraphale reached to take it. His fingers brushed Crowley’s again. But this time, instead of jerking away immediately, he froze. He swallowed hard, gazing up at Crowley, lips moving as if he was about to speak.

And then he cleared his throat and gently extracted the bread from Crowley’s grip. “Well, I-I-I suppose all is well, then. Thank you.”

Crowley let out a shaky breath, the sizzle of the touch still rushing through him. That, and the overwhelming protective instinct. “I think we should stick together for a bit, yeah? I’ll come with you while you do your blessings. Maybe help out, even.”

Aziraphale froze again, hands paused in the middle of breaking off a hunk of bread. He half looked like he was about to bolt, to plunge into a flurry of excuses about why they shouldn’t work together even though they’d had the Arrangement for hundreds of years.

“Y-yes, all right. Best to do it quickly, and get out of this awful village,” he said. And then he reached up, smoothing stray hair out of Crowley’s face with a quick, fluttering motion. “There. All better.”

Crowley’s legs went weak at the contact, the sheer overwhelming tenderness. Oh Satan, if a quick touch felt that good, how amazing would it be to do something like holding hands? Or kissing?

But if he tried to suggest something like that, and Aziraphale said no… that would be shatteringly painful.





Ch3



It felt so wonderful to be protected. Aziraphale couldn’t stop himself from glancing at Crowley, even a few days after the dramatic rescue.

Because although they’d long since departed that village and moved onto others, Crowley remained vigilant. His golden eyes on the horizon scanning for trouble, his stance ready for action. And he regularly circled Aziraphale, either all the way around or simply pacing from side to side.

It was undoubtedly a protective gesture, something he’d done before on occasion. Their first time seeing Hamlet, Crowley had clearly been anxious about the lack of crowd cover. He’d circled from one side to the other, and it had given Aziraphale chills.

He still got chills each time Crowley patrolled around him. Silly, perhaps, for a guardian to want to be guarded.

But oh, Aziraphale wanted it. After the attack in the village, he’d barely stopped himself from hiding his face in Crowley’s chest. The thought of Crowley pulling him close, keeping him safe…

Well. It left him breathless, which was rather unhelpful with how much walking they’d been doing. And worse, walking uphill.

“Right, what’s next?” Crowley stopped and glanced towards the nearest cluster of villagers, his jaw set. “More blessings?”

“Actually, a minor miracle this time.” Aziraphale cleared his throat, tore his gaze away from Crowley’s sharp jawline, and checked his list. “Ah! It’s a nice miracle this time. I’m to purify the town’s water supply.”

“Huh, cool. Is that…” Crowley gave a little shrug. “Y’know, the kind of thing that rouses faith? How do they know it was a miracle if you aren’t supposed to be noticed?”

“Um. I’ve never really thought about it.” But oh, it was so like Crowley to ask those sorts of questions. Aziraphale took a moment to gaze admiringly at him, then cleared his throat and considered the question. “If it’s been assigned to me, they were likely praying for clean water. And you know humans, most of them will assume it’s an answer to their prayers.”

Crowley gave a soft smile. “Good. You deserve the credit.”

Blushing, Aziraphale ducked his head and walked to the nearest well. He nearly waved a hand to analyze the trouble with the water, then hesitated. What if the humans thought he meant to curse their water supply? “Dear boy, could you…?”

But he needn’t have asked. Crowley was already circling behind him, frowning as he watched for observers. “D’ya want me to stop time?”

Heat rushed through Aziraphale, blasting away the chill. Oh, Crowley was always so thoughtful. “Oh, I don’t think that will be quite necessary. Just keep an eye out, would you?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” But there was no real venom in the snapped words.

Smiling, Aziraphale turned his attention back to the well. It was indeed only a minor miracle to purify this water supply, and to ensure it would stay that way. “There we are! All done.”

“Great.” Crowley turned back towards him, lifting an eyebrow. “Need to grab a snack before we take off?”

They really shouldn’t. The more time they spent eating and drinking, the harder it became for Aziraphale to control his impulses. Really, spending all this time together was making it more difficult.

In many ways, he felt rather closer to Crowley after these past days. They’d been acquaintances for a very long time, and always enjoyed each other’s company. They’d often met up.

But there was a difference between a few hours of socializing, and being together almost continuously for days. It felt so natural to be together, to talk about anything and everything. To reach up to brush a strand of hair away from Crowley’s face.

There was no strand of hair in this instance, so Aziraphale instead reached up to fuss with the demon’s cloak. Crowley stilled, barely breathing as Aziraphale tugged it to lay more comfortably. “There,” Aziraphale said, quickly stepping back before he gave into further temptation. “Um… I would like a snack.”

“Okay.” Crowley glanced sideways at him as they walked through the village, up and down the hilly streets. “You all right? You look stiff.”

“Oh, it’s just from all the riding. Well, and walking!” Aziraphale reached back to rub his mid back, which had turned into a constant minor throb of pain. Crowley had been limping intermittently since yesterday. “These hills are certainly not helping. It’s making me a bit achy.”

He pouted, and Crowley’s brows drew together. Crowley swallowed hard, glanced around.

And then he settled a hand on Aziraphale’s back, the touch cautious and light. He rubbed just a little, small circles. “Does that feel any better? Help with the pain?”

“Pain?” Aziraphale asked vaguely.

He wasn’t the slightest bit aware of pain now, only of the gentleness of Crowley’s touch. Oh, he wanted to just sink into it, perhaps to rent a room at the inn and ask Crowley to give him a full massage. And perhaps he could massage Crowley’s soreness away too, and they would risk other touches, and it would be like something out of the romance stories Aziraphale loved so much…

Oh Lord, what was he doing? He flashed a quick smile at Crowley. “Much better. Thank you, that’s quite enough.”

Crowley’s expression tightened, and he dropped his hand. “Okay. So. On to the food, then?”

Aziraphale nodded, tummy aching. He shouldn’t let himself think about such things. It simply wasn’t realistic, not with all the dangers around them. Even if, somehow, Crowley returned his affections…

But no. Aziraphale was just imagining things, that was all. Too caught up in those romance stories.

---

The awkwardness hadn’t gone away even after an hour in the tavern. Not the inn. Aziraphale had redirected them. And now, Crowley wasn’t sure what to do.

Bloody idiot, that’s what he was. Pushing things. He always pushed things, always asked for too much too soon. Like with the Arrangement. Aziraphale had stormed off the first time Crowley suggested it, and Crowley couldn’t blame him.

Honestly, it was amazing that Aziraphale hadn’t stormed off this time. That had been so, so stupid. What had he been thinking, trying to give Aziraphale a back rub? That was all it had been, totally innocent, but of course it was too much.

Crowley swallowed hard and poured himself more wine. He could technically take off whenever, and that might be for the best. He’d finished his own assignments four villages back, after all. Could have gone on ahead to handle Occult Guy on his own, and left Aziraphale to his blessings.

But he hadn’t. Because he’d wanted to spend more time with his friend, because he was so intoxicated with Aziraphale’s presence, because just being near him chased back all the clouds.

Aziraphale picked at his food, eyes occasionally darting to Crowley. Finally, he gave a slight smile. “So, um. I’m all done with my blessings and such. Just need to investigate that other fellow.”

“Yeah, me too.” Crowley paused a moment, waiting to see if Aziraphale would suggest invoking the Arrangement. He didn’t. “So, did you get much actual context on this guy? All I know is that it’s some old recluse who lives in some fancy place up in the hills and buys a shit ton of weird stuff.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know much more than that. But he is known in these parts for collecting occult objects.” Aziraphale frowned, poking at his cabbage again. “I also heard that he lives in a, well, fancy place up in the hills, and rarely leaves it.”

“Almost never leaves it, more like.” Which unfortunately meant they actually had to go all the way up there rather than cornering him in a town. Crowley sighed, irritated, and tried to remember what else the assignment had said.

Aziraphale beat him to it. “Well, he and his guard did leave a few months back, according to our intelligence. He attended an auction and purchased a great many of John Dee’s possessions. That’s what alerted Heaven to potential ill intent.”

“Ohh, okay,” Crowley said, frowning. John Dee had been Queen Elizabeth’s court astronomer, and had dabbled in all kinds of dodgy shit. “Occult Guy had a guard?”

“There was one with him at the auction. And I presume there may be more.” With an unusual lack of enthusiasm, Aziraphale moved on to poking a honey cake with his spoon. “At any rate. We need to ensure he causes no harm.”

That had a simple solution, at least. “Right, so we head up there, curse the bugger or something to deter him from meddling in the supernatural…”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale scolded. “We don’t even know why he’s collecting these objects. He might be a perfectly nice old man who has no intention of causing harm to anyone.”

Crowley snorted. “Right, and tomorrow rainbows are gonna shoot all over the sky, bathing the whole of England in vibrant color.”

“You don’t have to be so sarcastic.” Aziraphale pouted, looking almost hurt. “Why are you always so cynical?”

“M’ a demon. Cynical is part of the job description.” Which should have kept him out of trouble, kept him from doing stupid things like giving Aziraphale a back rub or sticking around just because he liked hanging out with an angel.

But no. He had to be a fucking incurable romantic who couldn’t stop himself from hoping. Who was just constantly setting himself up to be rejected.

Maybe it would be best to get it all out in the open. As they left the tavern and headed for the stables, Crowley broached the subject. “Hey, Aziraphale? M’ sorry about earlier. Y’know, the… the back rub. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Aziraphale gave him a startled look, then softened. “I know you didn’t, my dear. It felt quite nice, in fact. It’s just that it’s inappropriate.”

The word stung, landing on an old wound. Asking questions had been inappropriate, being curious was inappropriate… “I didn’t have any ulterior motives, angel. It’s not like I was trying to seduce you.”

Bright red flushed into Aziraphale’s cheeks, and he twisted his hands together. “Well, I would certainly hope not! How dare you even imply that I, an angel, would be interested in… you can’t think that I… Crowley!”

Hurt, Crowley looked away. Of course an angel wouldn’t be interested in a demon. In someone Fallen. Someone who had been rejected by Her. “Right. Well, then. Guess we don’t have anything else to talk about.”

“No, we… we certainly do not.” But Aziraphale slowed, and Crowley could feel the angel’s attention on him. “Oh dear, I… I suppose that may have been an overreaction. But I’m an angel, and I must behave as such. We ought to… to focus on our jobs, that’s all. Nothing else.”

There was an edge of near panic in Aziraphale’s voice. Crowley nodded, kicking a clump of dirt out of his way. It was his own fault Aziraphale had snapped at him. Pushing again. “Fine.”

Hands trembling, he saddled his horse. The black gelding snorted and stamped, eyes flashing fire at everything he did. Bastard was probably picking up on his agitation now. It wasn’t gonna be a fun ride.

Riding was never actually fun, but he’d enjoyed it more these past days. Being with Aziraphale, talking as they wound down narrow roads and through forests and over hills. There probably wouldn’t be much talking today, not after that.

Which was a shame, because they had another long, cold ride ahead. Occult Guy lived in an isolated area of the hills. Little protection from the rain up there, which would suck with the temperatures dropping as night approached.

Crowley led his horse out into the rainy misery, trying not to look at Aziraphale and his more sedate horse. But then, suddenly, the angel’s hand was on his arm. “Crowley.”

Hesitant, Crowley lifted his gaze. Aziraphale was staring at him with wide, teary eyes, his lip trembling. “Yeah?”

“I didn’t… I don’t want you to be mad at me.” Aziraphale really did look like he was about to start sobbing. “If there’s… that is to say… I-I know there’s been, some, um, tension…”

“Shh, s’ all right.” Any traces of frustration vanished, although the aching hurt remained. Crowley brought his hand to cover Aziraphale’s, just for a moment. “Don’t worry about it, yeah? We’re friends.”

Aziraphale’s breath caught. He gazed up at Crowley, searching his face. He was so close, his familiar clean scent mingling with the smell of musty hay, and his hand lingered on Crowley’s arm. “I… yes. I suppose we are. Friends, that is.”

Crowley’s heart squeezed with affection. He managed a smile, although it still seemed incredibly unfair that he wasn’t allowed to do much as give his friend a back rub without being accused of seduction. “Yup.”

Aziraphale pulled his hand back, flushed again, and cleared his throat. They mounted up and rode out of the village, both silent.

It was an awkward silence, even after their talk. More, maybe. Crowley’s mind went around in loops, examining everything he’d said. Had he still been too pushy, even by just saying they were friends? Had he chased Aziraphale off completely?

A wind picked up, effortlessly slicing through Crowley’s clothes. He shuddered and pulled his cloak tighter around himself. “Gosh, why do we have to be out here when it’s so bloody cold? Occult Guy couldn’t have waited to buy a bunch of dodgy stuff until spring?”

Aziraphale turned towards him, a slight smile on his face now. He gazed at Crowley up through his lashes, shy. “I’m afraid our comfort was likely not on his mind.”

“I wonder what really is on his mind.” Crowley’s horse slipped in the mud, and Crowley grabbed the black mane to steady himself. His hands were freezing, fingers numb. “Curing warts? Putting together an exhibition of cursed objects? Taking over the world?”

“Well, you’ll have to ask him once we arrive,” Aziraphale said tartly.

“Yeahhh, about arriving…” Crowley made a face at the sky, the gloomy press of clouds. Rain drummed down on them, merciless. And it was starting to get dark. “How much further? And what the fuck are we gonna do when we get there?”

“Language, my dear fellow.” Frowning, Aziraphale looked him over. “Well, I thought we’d talk to the old chap and ask politely if we can take the more dangerous objects.”

“Oh yeah. That’ll go great.” The sarcasm burned through Crowley’s voice, and he rolled his eyes. Being sarcastic probably wasn’t the best way to patch things up with Aziraphale, but he couldn’t help it. “After all, his first name is Horatio. He’s gotta be decent like Hamlet’s Horatio, yeah?”

In the early days of their friendship, Aziraphale would have taken that as sincere. Now, though, he rolled his own eyes. “Oh, stop that.”

“Seriously though, it is kinda funny.” Wind gusted again, and the rain blew right into Crowley’s face. “We’ve got this evil guy we need to investigate, and he has the same name as the most dependable, devoted—”

“We don’t know that he’s evil,” Aziraphale replied tartly. He glanced at Crowley again, frown deepening. “He might be perfectly— Crowley, you’re shivering horribly!”

Crowley’s teeth chattered, and he waved a hand at their surroundings. “S’ to be expected in rain like this. I am cold-blooded, y’know.”

“You are not cold-blooded.” Aziraphale battled against a smile, although he was still only managing to look at Crowley for a few seconds at a time. He dug in his saddlebags and pulled out a bundle. “Here, let’s see. You take my spare cloak.”

The angel eased his horse closer to Crowley, holding out the cloak. Crowley reached out, but his horse shied away from the flapping material.

“Calm down, it’s just a cloak,” Crowley snapped as his horse pinned its ears. He grabbed the cloak as soon as it was in range and wrapped it around himself. “Thanks, Aziraphale. Really appreciate it.”

“No, no, don’t thank me!” Aziraphale flapped his hands wildly, flustered. Even his calm horse startled a bit, alarmed, and he patted its neck apologetically. “It’s just, um, my angelic responsibility! To tend to, um, the cold!”

Before Crowley could respond, Aziraphale urged his horse into a trot and sped off.

Crowley heaved a sigh of irritation and followed. The cloak smelled like Aziraphale, almost taunting him with what he couldn’t have. He turned his face into it anyway, breathing it in.

---

Aziraphale dashed away stray tears from his eyes, hoping the steady rain would disguise them. Oh, he was such a foolish angel! It seemed that each time he tried to discuss things with Crowley, he simply made it worse, more awkward.

It was, however, becoming harder to deny that the demon felt something for him, something more than friendship. Was it simple lust? No, that wasn’t like Crowley. He was a demon, yes, but he had always been devoted.

A need for companionship, then. But what sort of companionship? Crowley had been the one who suggested the Arrangement, after all. What other sorts of things might he propose in time, especially if Aziraphale gave him false hope?

Because their feelings didn’t matter, not in the slightest. They were on Opposite Sides. Even being friends was dangerous. More than that was far too perilous.

“Are we almost there?” Crowley called, urging his horse up beside Aziraphale’s. “We’ve been riding for bloody ages. We all need a rest.”

It was getting quite dark now, the muddy road lost to shadow. Angels couldn’t see in the dark nearly as well as demons, although better than humans. Light glimmered ahead, though, perhaps another inn? Or a house?

“Well, there’s something up ahead.” Aziraphale gestured to it. He was shivering too, and Crowley looked utterly frozen. Even in the low light, it was clear how pale he was. “Whatever it is, we’ll stop there. I’m not sure precisely how far we have to go to our destination.”

“Apparently the bastard has a hilltop castle? Fortress? Something like that.” Crowley hunched his shoulders, shivering convulsively. His teeth chattered, the sound audible even over the rain. “I’m guessing—”

But Aziraphale didn’t find out what Crowley guessed. At that moment, a vicious gust of wind flapped Crowley’s cloaks through the air, and his horse startled.

The great black beast sprang forward, bucking as Crowley shouted and tried to hold on. It was as if time slowed, and for one wild moment Aziraphale hoped that his demon had stopped time in order to climb off the panicked horse.

But then Crowley flew off, a dark figure hurtling through the air. He crashed into the road, landing in muddy puddles.

He did not rise.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale screamed. He shoved off his own horse and ran up the hill, all aches and pains forgotten in his panic. He fell to his knees, water splashing, and grasped Crowley’s thin shoulder. “Crowley, Crowley, are you hurt?”

No reply. Hyperventilating, Aziraphale pushed wet straggling hair out of Crowley’s face. Crowley’s eyes were closed, his mouth hanging open. His whole body limp in the mud, unmoving aside from ragged breaths.

Had he hit his head? Oh Lord, he must have hit his head.

“Crowley! Crowley!” Sobs wrenched through Aziraphale, tears hot on his face. Whimpering, he stroked Crowley’s ice cold cheek. “Dearest, please wake up!”

He gathered Crowley’s limp hand in his own, pressed it, called to him over and over. Smoothed back his hair with a shaking hand. Patted his cheek lightly, trying to rouse him.

Nothing worked. Crowley was unconscious.

“Oh, oh...” Aziraphale pulled off his own cloak and wrapped it around Crowley, then scooped him out of the mud. He struggled to his feet, Crowley cradled to his chest, and ran for the building ahead.

Wind blasted across him, and the rain drummed down even harder. The mud sucked at his boots, slowing his steps. But he had to get to that light, had to get Crowley inside. To shelter, warmth, safety.

At the door, Aziraphale collapsed to his knees. He could hardly see the building, only the faint glow of illumination. He held Crowley to his chest with one arm and pounded the other against the door, sobbing. “Help! Please, I need help, my friend is hurt!”

He cradled Crowley closer, trying to keep him warm. It was so cold, and Crowley was drenched. What if he got frostbite or hypothermia on top of everything else?

The doors opened, and Aziraphale squinted against the light. “Please help me,” he begged, gazing up towards the blurred silhouette. “My friend fell from his horse, he’s hurt and he’s so cold. Please, may we take shelter here?”

The portly old man stepped forward, leaning against the doorframe. He looked them over, then nodded. “Of course, lad. Do come inside out of the rain. My name is Horatio Chase, and my home is open to you.”

Unable to breathe, Aziraphale clutched Crowley to his chest. Horatio Chase. The dangerous occultist, the one they’d been sent to investigate, the one with objects powerful enough to harm even supernatural entities. And with Crowley unconscious…

Well. It looked as though Aziraphale would have to fulfill his function as a guardian.





Ch4



There was no time to fret about the potential danger. Aziraphale shoved back to his feet, Crowley still in his arms, and let himself be ushered inside.

It was a grand house, tapestries hanging in the entryway, plentiful candles lighting their way. Chase led him through a larger hall, saying something about the rainy day and the dangerous roads.

Aziraphale barely registered the words. He twisted from side to side, watching for danger, for any sign that this man led a cult or intended them harm. But while there were many objects on display, and the tingle of supernatural power flowed through the air, no one attacked them.

“What’s this, now?” another voice asked, suspicious. A taller man leaning on a cane, his eyes piercing. Chase’s guard? “You’re bringin’ in anyone off the road?”

“Don’t be impolite, Philip,” Chase chided. He turned back to Aziraphale, smiling. He did seem a kindly old man, but was that all an illusion? “Please forgive my friend. He’s a bit wary of strangers.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. He’d never considered himself particularly wary of strangers. Crowley was the wary one. But right now, the mere sight of this additional human made his hand itch for a flaming sword. “Pardon my own rudeness, but I must tend to my own friend.”

“Of course.” Chase led him down a corridor and into a bedroom. “I’ll have a servant bring you some amenities, and we’ll see to your horses.”

This was incredibly suspicious. Why would someone collect so many dangerous objects, yet welcome someone into his home? What horrible things was he planning?

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said curtly. He gave the old man a hard look, still expecting an attack. Chase just smiled and left.

Whatever the humans were planning, it would have to wait. Winded, Aziraphale eased Crowley down to the bed and sat beside him. Crowley’s eyes were still closed, his skin even more pale now.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale called, stroking hair out of his face. He smoothed the bedraggled curls back, then cupped Crowley’s cheek. “Dear boy, please wake up. Please.”

He pressed the slender hand, sobs slipping out again. Crowley stirred a little, groaning, and his eyes fluttered open. Dazed, disoriented.

“Crowley, it’s all right.” Tears fell again, but they were tears of relief. Aziraphale squeezed his hand, trying to smile. “It’s okay. I’m right here.

Crowley struggled to focus on him in the candlelight. “’Zir’phale? What happened? My… my head hurts.”

“You fell off your horse, my dear. I’m sorry. It was, well… my spare cloak flapping that startled the poor creature, I believe.” Tears blurred Aziraphale’s eyes again, and he tried to blink them away.

“Poor creature nothing. Bastard had it in for me from the start.” The corner of Crowley’s mouth lifted in that slight, fond smile. He immediately winced, one hand going to his head. The other remained in Aziraphale’s hold. “S’ not your fault, angel. Don’t feel bad.”

“I’m afraid I do feel a bit bad.” Aziraphale’s voice cracked, and a sob slipped out. And oh, he was trembling now. “I was s-scared. I didn’t know how badly you’d been hurt, you were so still…”

“Shh, s’ just a knock on the head.” Crowley squeezed his hand. Then he looked around, squinting. “Er. Where the fuck are we?”

Oh dear. That jogged Aziraphale back to the present, pulled him away from the memory of Crowley limp in the road. He cleared his throat and looked around again. There were several rather suspicious objects in here as well, but nothing radiating immediate danger. “We’re in, um, Horatio Chase’s house.”

“We’re wot.” Crowley tried to shove up, his eyes wide. He yelped at the sudden movement, wincing, but he didn’t slump back. “Aziraphale, it’s dangerous. We dunno what the bastard is up to.”

“Beg pardon,” yet another voice said. A middle aged woman, carrying a tray with a bowl, and jug, and cloths. Another servant came in and placed their saddlebags by the bed. “I’ve brought you some warm water to wash up with, and a wee nip of wine. And an invitation from Master Chase, to join him in the hall if you’re up for it.”

“Um.” Aziraphale abruptly realized he was still holding Crowley’s hand, and quickly let go. He smiled at the servant while also studying her on the metaphysical level. But she carried nothing supernatural, nothing that could harm them. “Thank you.”

“Okay, this is all really weird.” Crowley sat all the way up, groaning again, and rubbed his shoulder. “How did we end up in a situation where we’ve been invited to the hall? Does he know that we’re here to investigate him?”

“I-I haven’t told him, no.” Hands shaking, Aziraphale dampened a cloth. He wiped his own hands free of mud, then rinsed the cloth and turned to Crowley. “May I?”

Crowley’s gaze darted to him. Slowly, the demon nodded. “Sure.”

Aziraphale touched the cloth to his cheek, cleaning away the mud. A shaky breath slipped from Crowley, and his eyes closed as he leaned into the contact. Tears clung to his lashes, and he made a soft noise that was almost a moan. A soft noise of need.

Trembling for an entirely different reason now, Aziraphale bathed his face. He cleaned the fine cheekbones, the beautiful nose, the sharp jawline. Crowley’s eyes remained closed, his breaths uneven and shallow.

But not from pain or distress. No, this was something else, the same something that burned through Aziraphale like a fire.

Aziraphale lifted one slender hand, letting his thumb graze across Crowley’s knuckles. Neither of them spoke. He could hardly breathe at all, too intent on his task. Working the cloth between the slim, clever fingers, wiping away the mud.

He did the same for Crowley’s other hand, then simply held it for a moment. His own body buzzed with need, a desperate longing, something he’d never experienced before. A craving, like what he got for his favorite foods but immeasurably more intense.

Next, he found a comb on the bedside table and ran it through Crowley’s wet hair. Careful, slow strokes, taking his time so he wouldn’t pull on any of the tangles. A few small miracles cleaned away the mud, at least, although he didn’t risk drying either of them. That would be too noticeable when this near to humans.

They still remained silent, as if speaking would shatter some spell. Aziraphale coaxed Crowley to lean forward a bit, gathered all his long hair, and worked it into a braid.

He would have liked to take much longer at this. To dry and comb Crowley’s hair until each strand shone fiery copper. Then to weave it more expertly, lingering over each lock. But they did have somewhere to be.

Finally, Aziraphale laid the thick braid across Crowley’s shoulder and touched his cheek. Crowley’s eyes flew open at that, lips parting slightly. He leaned in, just a little, and Aziraphale automatically mirrored the movement.

But no. He sat back and cleared his throat. “We ought to see to our assignment, I suppose.” His voice sounded loud and unpleasant in the quiet, and he cringed. “May I tend to your head? I don’t think there’s anything dreadfully wrong, but you were knocked out.”

“Yeah.” Crowley’s voice was rough too, rough with something else that made Aziraphale’s heart race and his palms sweat. “It’s throbbing pretty bad.”

“I’m sorry. I ought to have tended to it sooner, but…” He’d gotten distracted. Shame curdled in his belly, and he brushed his hand against Crowley’s cheek again in apology. “Now, let’s see… Just a mild concussion. I’ll mend that right away. You’ll have a bit of a headache, but I ought to be able to negate any other effects.”

Crowley gave a slight smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

---

Aziraphale’s miracle soothed away the worst of the crashing pain, leaving a dull ache that wasn’t much worse than an average day. It was nothing compared to the soreness in the rest of Crowley’s corporation, from both the fall and just from being stuck on a horse so much.

But Crowley could easily ignore the pain when Aziraphale was so, so close. His hand gentle and warm, his expression intent as he negated the concussion. He was amazing.

And beautiful. Oh, Satan, he was beautiful.

Crowley licked his lips, letting his gaze trace the angel’s features. The deep crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the ones that amplified his smile so well. The ever shifting color of those eyes, morphing from blue to green to brown as the candlelight flickered. The soft plump cheeks, the wrinkles, every damn thing about him was gorgeous.

“Can I, er…” Crowley’s voice shook, and he clenched his fists for a second. Control yourself, idiot. “Can I wash your face, angel? You’re kinda muddy too.”

“Oh! Oh, I, um, entirely forgot about myself.” Blushing again, Aziraphale passed him a clean cloth. “Thank you, dear fellow. And-and-and then I suppose we ought to get into dry clothes.”

Or they could get out of all their clothes.

No. Crowley herded that thought to the back of his mind, where it belonged. Aziraphale was not interested in a demon. All of this, the unfamiliar intimacy, was just because he’d gotten scared by Crowley’s accident.

But, even if it made him an arse, Crowley treasured each second of it. He bathed Aziraphale’s face reverently, worshiping him with each touch. He would never get to do this again. That much, he was sure of. Best to enjoy it while it lasted.

A quick miracle cleaned his hair, and Crowley grabbed the comb. “I, er, guess this won’t take as long as mine,” he said awkwardly, running it through the wet curls.

Aziraphale hadn’t closed his eyes earlier, but now he did. He made a soft noise, almost a whimper. This must feel as good for him as it had for Crowley.

But it was over too soon. Aziraphale fumbled in the bags for their clothes, pointedly avoiding Crowley’s gaze. And then, in a voice of deep disappointment, he said, “Oh.”

Crowley lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I-I’m afraid water got into our bags.” Aziraphale pulled out a thoroughly sodden book and set it on the bedside table. He sighed again. “Perhaps just a small miracle so we don’t drip everywhere?”

They each miracled their clothes not dry, but mostly drip free. And then Crowley struggled to his feet, wincing at the soreness. It could be loads worse, especially after a fall like that. “Hrgh. I really hope Occult Guy isn’t planning to murder us. So far so good, though.”

Aziraphale’s lips twitched into a smile as they entered the hallway. Torchlight cast long, ominous shadows, and mild occult power prickled the air. “Awfully optimistic of you.”

“Nyeh, s’ just a statement of fact. We haven’t been murdered yet.”

They entered a hall that could have easily fit several tables. But there was only one, up in the high table’s position. Much of the other space housed pedestals with suspicious statues and weapons, scrolls and books, all kinds of dodgy shit.

If Chase did want to kill them, they might actually be in trouble.

Two men sat at the table, wine goblets in hand. One of them waved when they came in. “Ah, hello. I see your friend is back on his feet! I’m Horatio Chase, and this is Philip Hines.”

Chase looked friendly enough, but Crowley didn’t trust a mere friendly face. He circled behind Aziraphale to his right, then back again. The power in here was mild, but definitely present.

“Ah, thank you so much for your hospitality.” Aziraphale gave a restrained smile, hands folded. “We’re both perfectly fine now.”

The other human rose, leaning on a cane and studying them with answering suspicion. “There’s naught else out here but us. Were you looking to rob the place, now?”

“Philip!” Rolling his eyes, Chase stood as well. He went over to his friend and touched his arm in an unmistakably familiar manner, then leaned in and whispered something to him.

Crowley tilted his head, curious. Chase’s hand lingered on Philip’s arm, rubbing lightly. Soothing him, maybe. The sight sent a bolt of envy through Crowley, a longing for that kind of comfortable intimacy.

“You’ll forgive my Philip,” Chase said, as if it wasn’t a question. He took Philip by the arm, drawing him over towards them. Crowley tensed, ready in case genuine magic made an appearance. “He’s very protective of me.”

Aziraphale glanced to Crowley. And there it was—longing in his eyes, the same thing Crowley felt. He wanted that too, the same intimacy as these humans showed. “Yes, well. My… my Crowley is the same.”

Crowley’s legs buckled at the sound of that, and he grabbed the edge of a pedestal to steady himself. Tears burned in his eyes, and he struggled to control them. My Crowley.

Chase stopped a few feet away, Philip still glaring. Crowley got ahold of himself and glared back. If these humans tried anything…

But Chase indicated the artifact on the pedestal near Crowley, a bronze statue of a god, complete with cuneiform inscriptions. “One of the prizes of my collection, all the way from Mesopotamia. I’m afraid I can’t read the writing on it, but it brims with magic, doesn’t it?”

Crowley stiffened. The artifact did have a supernatural residue, like most of the shit on display. “What’re you doing with all this? Planning to take over the world?”

“Watch your tongue, lad,” Philip snapped. He shifted his weight, lifting the cane off the floor. As if ready to lash out with it.

But Aziraphale intervened. “I suppose it’s my turn to ask forgiveness. We are in fact here because of your collection, but only to learn more about it. My name is Aziraphale. Crowley and I are both rather experts in such things.”

“Are you, now?” Chase perked up at once. “Well, perhaps you can help me. Can either of you read this?”

“Um, I’m a bit out of practice,” Aziraphale said awkwardly. Crowley snorted. Cuneiform had gone out of fashion over a thousand years ago. “But yes, I could decipher it.”

“Oh, excellent! Philip, my book.” Waving a hand vaguely towards the table, Chase stepped closer and inspected the artifact. “I’m cataloging all this, you see.”

“Why?” Crowley asked, still wary. Was that really all there was to it?

“For his book.” Philip lifted a heavy tome off the table. Tucking it under one arm, he limped to them. “He’s the cleverest man I know, understands all of this. Me, I prefer reading books to writin’ them.”

Aziraphale lit up, his expression full of absolute bliss. So much bliss that it distracted Crowley from glaring at Philip. “You write books? That’s why you’re collecting all this?”

“Oh yes. I’m afraid I only have aspirations of understanding the world, not conquering it. I have an interest in magic, but no skill.” Chase’s smile was almost as bright, especially when he turned it on Philip. Crowley’s stomach wrenched again with longing. “I acquired a great many of these items from John Dee himself. He’s fallen on hard times of late, had to sell off parts of his collection.”

Crowley relaxed a little, although he circled behind Aziraphale anyway. The humans seemed decent enough, but there was no sense letting down his guard.

And besides. Pacing gave him a way to burn off the nervous energy that boiled up despite his headache and soreness. Because no matter what Aziraphale had said earlier… angels could definitely feel something for demons.

---

Aziraphale had never struggled to focus on a book this much, especially not a fascinating book. It was marvelous how much information Chase had compiled, everything from ancient inscriptions to which plants had magic properties. It was a wealth of information.

And yet, Aziraphale’s attention was torn. He wanted to pay attention to the book, to Chase’s enthusiastic explanations. And he did his very best, trying until he’d given himself a headache.

But Crowley. Aziraphale couldn’t keep his eyes off the demon for long, and Crowley seemed to be having a similar struggle. The golden eyes met his across the table again, smoldering fire that stole his breaths.

Aziraphale struggled to focus, but before long he found his gaze drifting back to Crowley. Crowley had one hand curled around a cup of mead, mead that Philip made himself. Normally, Crowley would drink any alcohol in the vicinity without delay.

But not now. He simply held onto the cup, alternating between suspicious glances at their hosts and gazing at Aziraphale.

The tension was nearly unbearable. It took all of Aziraphale’s self control to stay in his seat rather than leaping up, rushing to his friend, and begging his forgiveness for the earlier comments. Crowley must think him awfully cruel and distant.

And seeing such easy affection between the humans only made this more agonizing. They were so clearly fond of each other, so clearly together. Philip’s glare fell away whenever he looked at Chase, unmistakable love on his face. And when Chase bustled over to talk to him, settling a hand on his shoulder so casually, Aziraphale nearly cried.

Could he and Crowley have that? Aziraphale hadn’t fully understood until now precisely what he wanted, these feelings so odd. So strong and confusing. But this, the simple love between these two humans…

Yes. That was what Aziraphale wanted.

But goodness, he did have work to do first. He shook himself and gave Chase an apologetic smile, then closed the book. “This is a magnificent piece of work. But I’m afraid I do have a few questions for you before we leave.”

He felt Crowley stiffen rather than saw it, utterly tuned into every move he made. Just the feeling of his attention was enough to make Aziraphale nearly abandon his work, to ignore their assignment.

But he could wait a while longer. He cleared his throat and gazed into Chase’s amused blue eyes. “Is this truly all you intend for these occult items? To catalogue them, not to use them?”

Down the table, Philip snorted. “If we meant to use any of it, we’d certainly have already done so with you two invaders.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Crowley snapped back.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale chastised at the same time Chase scolded, “Philip!” Sighing, Aziraphale continued. “I highly doubt you’re likely to attempt any sort of world conquering. But I’m afraid we can’t leave until we’re certain that these objects will not be used for harm.”

His heart pounded in his ears as he gazed at their host. He could feel Crowley shifting in his seat, feel the sharp burn of his demonic focus. If these humans did try anything, Crowley would stop them.

Chase just smiled at him, regarding Aziraphale levelly. Then, voice calm, he said, “This I swear, I am solely interested in the stories of these objects. I have no intention of causing anyone harm.”

“Unless they intend us harm,” Philip muttered, hand tightening on his cup of home brewed mead.

Rolling his eyes, Chase stood. He went to his partner and laid a hand on his shoulder, disarming. “But now, we won’t hear of you leaving before morning. Please stay the night; that room is yours. But if you’ll forgive me, I’m rather tired and ready to retire. My energy… is not quite what it used to be.”

Aziraphale inclined his head. “Of course. Thank you so much for your hospitality.”

Philip rose and took Chase’s arm, supportive. Chase bestowed another smile on them all. “You’re more than welcome to read the rest of my book. If you wouldn’t mind, though, perhaps you could look over my translations of the Aramaic incantations?”

“I’d be delighted,” Aziraphale said, although he could only gaze at Crowley. And, despite the presence of potential threats, Crowley’s attention was fully fixed on him.

Arm in arm, the humans left the room. Aziraphale, hands trembling, collected the manuscript and stood. He’d never been less interested in a book, but it seemed rude to ignore it.

Crowley was still gazing at him just as intently, silent as he rose. The demon fell in step beside him, and they retreated to their room together.

Aziraphale’s heart pounded in his chest, breaths quickening. He put down the book as soon as he stepped inside the room and twisted back towards his friend. “Shut the door, would you?”

Crowley closed it, leaving them alone without any distractions. They continued gazing at each other, both unsure what to do.

Until finally, Crowley gave a little one shouldered shrug. “So. What now?”





Ch5



Crowley half expected Aziraphale to immediately recoil. To accuse him of an attempt at seduction, to insist that they were merely adversaries, to shut him down. Maybe even to throw him out of the room.

But instead, Aziraphale stepped closer. “Um,” he said, voice trembling. “Maybe… maybe we…”

He reached out, his plump fingers grazing Crowley’s hand. A low, gasping whine of need broke from Crowley at the touch, his entire body tingling with it. Aziraphale’s fingers traced the back of his hand, skimmed back up his forefinger, brushed lightly against the junction between forefinger and thumb.

Emotion choked Crowley’s throat, the sensations overwhelming. Another noise slipped out, something that was almost a sob. His vision blurred as he reciprocated, as his fingers met and caressed Aziraphale’s. As their fingers twined, as they leaned in to press their brows together.

He’d never been touched like this, with so much gentleness and care. Not before or since his Fall. He pressed into the touch, another near sob slipping out.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered. His other hand lifted, trembling as it skimmed along Crowley’s jawline. Crowley caught his hand and turned into it. He brushed his lips to Aziraphale’s wrist, then palm, then fingers.

And now it was Aziraphale’s turn to nearly sob, a noise of need that turned into a moan. Crowley kissed the inside of his wrist once more, then gently turned Aziraphale’s hand in his grasp. He explored the soft fingers with his lips, anointing them with the tenderest of kisses.

“Aziraphale,” he breathed against his angel’s knuckles, hardly daring to believe this was happening. But it was so overwhelming, too intense. Not even his very best dreams or his most vivid imaginations could compare to this.

“Oh…” Aziraphale pulled back a little, hazel eyes turning up to meet Crowley’s. Full of affection, and questioning. “Is… is this what you really want, Crowley?”

Crowley nodded, words tangling as soon as he tried to express them. “Hhhn. Yeah. I… Hrgk, angel.” He kissed Aziraphale’s brow in further explanation, then regained enough control to be gallant. “And you? Is this… I didn’t think angels could, er…”

“Could what?” Aziraphale asked, voice hoarse with longing.

“Could…” Crowley cleared his throat, but that did not relieve the pressure at all. “Could, y’know.”

Aziraphale lifted an eyebrow. A bit of humor warmed his face, a smile curving his lips. “Well, ‘y’know’ does involve certain equipment, but I already have that.”

Crowley’s cheeks flushed hot. He let go of Aziraphale’s hand and dragged a hand through his own hair, the long waves still wet and cold. “Hrgh. I didn’t… Ngk. Angel. I mean… I didn’t think angels could have, er, feelings. For a demon.”

Sudden confusion crossed Aziraphale’s gaze. He caught Crowley’s arm as he tried to retreat, concern on his kind face. “Dear boy. Whatever gave you that idea?”

“You bloody did.” But the fear of that was already easing, leaving Crowley feeling oddly light despite the totally unprecedented situation. He stepped closer again, capturing Aziraphale’s face in both hands. “I thought that was what you meant, the other day. That you could never…”

The word caught in his throat, and tears blurred his vision. He braced, waiting. Waiting for the rejection.

“That I could never love a demon?” Aziraphale asked, voice achingly soft. “I… I admit to my share of denial about my feelings. But there are some things… Well. May I demonstrate?”

Crowley nodded quickly, and Aziraphale leaned in. The angel hesitated, just a little, breaths quick and anxious.

But then he kissed Crowley. Just a quick brush at first, a mere peck. As if sampling a new food.

And then again, longer this time. Crowley leaned into it, his hand automatically coming up to curl behind Aziraphale’s head. Drawing him in closer, sinking into the kiss. Their lips slid together, exploring, learning each other’s rhythms. Dancing together.

Crowley moaned, letting his fingers slide into Aziraphale’s soft hair. His body was on fire with longing, with overload. It was amazing, he’d never imagined it could be this amazing, he was gonna bloody explode from this.

He broke off at the same time Aziraphale did, the angel giving a faint whimper. “Sorry,” Crowley said quickly, freezing. “Did I hurt you?”

Aziraphale shook his head. He caught Crowley’s doublet, preventing him from stepping back. Gently, he brushed his fingers across Crowley’s throat, slowly trailing down to his chest. “No, dear boy. I’m just… a bit overwhelmed.”

“Me too.” Crowley flashed a grin, teary again. Aziraphale gave an equally teary smile in return. “Wanna sit down, on the bed? Or-or not on the bed, if that’s, er. Too much.”

Aziraphale licked his lips, hand drifting down a little more. Catching at the first of the clasps of Crowley’s doublet, and undoing it. He skimmed his fingers along Crowley’s collarbone, and Crowley shivered. “The bed sounds perfect.”

“Okay.” Trembling again, Crowley offered his hand. Aziraphale took it, and they walked to the bed together.

They both sat, exchanging shy glances. After a moment, Aziraphale cleared his throat. “I, um. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve never even felt anything like this before.”

“Come off it,” Crowley said, smiling. “You, the hedonist?”

The corners of Aziraphale’s eyes crinkled. “I’m afraid this is one pleasure I’ve never felt at all inclined to sample. You?”

Crowley shook his head. “Nuh. Not once.”

And now it was Aziraphale’s turn to smile, skeptical. “You, the demon? Isn’t lust your purview?”

“I think drunkenness and minor pranks are more my purview.” Nervous, Crowley raked a hand through his hair again. He liked to play the competent one, the one guiding Aziraphale. But in this instance, he couldn’t guide anyone. “I’ve just… never wanted to. At all. Until…”

Until when, exactly? It hadn’t been a single moment. His was a slow love, one that had built up over ages of friendship. From Aziraphale giving away his flaming sword, Crowley had known he was special, wonderful. But this depth of feeling had just grown, the most natural thing in the world even though he’d never felt it for another being.

Aziraphale’s smile turned shy. His thumb grazed across Crowley’s bony knuckles, as if savoring. “Yes, it’s quite the same for me. In truth, I simply thought I didn’t have this sort of, um, desire. It’s not exactly built-in for angels, shall we say.”

“Yeah. S’ not for demons, either.” Crowley gulped, totally unsure what to do now. He fell back on what he did know how to do. “You wanna drink a little of that wine?”

“Actually, no,” Aziraphale murmured. He pulled his hand free of Crowley’s, moving it to instead settle on his thigh. “Or at least, not very much. I can think of, well, many other things I’d like to do, and I’d prefer to remember them.”

---

The nearness to Crowley made Aziraphale tremble, the whole of his body vibrating with need. He poured two cups of wine and drank just a bit of his own, then waited for Crowley to finish his.

The poor dear looked as flustered as Aziraphale had ever seen him, entirely out of his depth. His slender hands shook violently, violently enough that Aziraphale began to worry. Was Crowley truly interested in this sort of thing?

“You don’t have to say yes, you know,” Aziraphale murmured, gathering Crowley’s quaking hands in his own. He held them securely, steadying them as much as he could while his own body trembled. “We can simply curl up in bed and snuggle, if that would make you more comfortable.”

Crowley gave an utterly smitten look, squeezing his hands. “Thanks, angel. But I definitely do wanna do this. I’m just… not sure how fast to go. I know you like to take things slower, but… I kinda want to just strip you down and…”

He went bright red again, smile turning sheepish. Aziraphale giggled, then let his hand drift across the front of Crowley’s doublet. “I admit I’m having a similar impulse. But with how, um, overwhelmed we’ve both been getting…”

Crowley grimaced. “Maybe a little slower, then.” He tried again to drag his hand through his hair, then sighed as it caught on the braid. “I do like this, but…”

Aziraphale didn’t need to hear any more. He took the comb again and moved behind Crowley, brushing his fingers against the still damp hair. “You’re shivering,” he murmured, using a miracle to dry the wavy locks. “I suppose we ought to get out of these damp clothes, too.”

“Soon.” Crowley leaned back into his touch, his shivering somehow worse now. Or perhaps it wasn’t just from the chill. Perhaps it was simply from contact, from the intimacy.

His own hands still shaky, Aziraphale unbraided Crowley’s hair. He smoothed it all out with his fingers, then ran the comb through it in slow, careful strokes. Crowley made a quiet noise, nearly a whimper.

Aziraphale leaned in as he brushed Crowley’s hair, inhaling the familiar scent of smoke. It always clung to Crowley, often along with the scent of wine. It smelled like home, like happiness.

His breaths quickened as he brushed Crowley’s hair, impatience rising the longer they remained in contact. And it was still almost overwhelming, each brush of his hand over Crowley’s hair enough to make them both shiver.

But oh, it was amazing. He’d never dreamed of anything like this, that he and Crowley would be exploring these things together. He’d craved it, yes, but never believed it might happen.

He lifted Crowley’s hair off his neck and pressed light kisses to the chilled skin. Crowley whimpered, tilting his head to the side to give Aziraphale better access.

Aziraphale took it, pressing kiss after kiss to Crowley’s neck, behind his ear, to the junction of his neck and shoulder. Crowley groaned and pushed back into him, breathing hard. “Nnnh, angel. Driving me bloody crazy, you are.”

“Then turn around and kiss me properly,” Aziraphale said primly, self control failing.

Crowley twisted to meet him at once, long hair swinging as he pressed forward. He joined his lips to Aziraphale’s, hands fumbling with the front of his doublet. “Mm?” he asked without fully breaking the kiss.

“Mm,” Aziraphale agreed, and kissed him harder. He slid his fingers through Crowley’s hair, drawing him closer as the nimble fingers worked his doublet open.

Crowley tasted of dark wine, his lips alternately gentle and insistent. Aziraphale caught at the demon’s doublet, undoing it further as Crowley still worked on his.

Doublets thumped to the floor, leaving them in just their linen shirts, breeches, stockings. Crowley began to shiver convulsively, and Aziraphale pulled back. He caught the narrow shoulders, studying his demon’s beautiful face. “Crowley?”

“M’ just cold, don’t worry.” Crowley snapped his fingers irritably at the fireplace, and it roared with increased enthusiasm. “Okay. Should help.”

“Yes, well. I can think of a few other ways to warm you, too.” Aziraphale touched Crowley’s chest, questioning.

Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale helped his out of the shirt. He rubbed his own hands together, found them acceptably warm, and let them trace across Crowley’s upper body. Along his shoulders first, then down to slide gently through his soft chest hair. Crowley was stunning, and Aziraphale’s whole body ached with longing for him.

And his groin, too, ached. An increasing pressure, his previously unused cock throbbing within the confines of his breeches.

Crowley let out a soft growl of need and tugged Aziraphale out of his shirt too. Slender hands skimmed across his body, and Aziraphale gasped and shivered. His chest heaved, the contact almost too intense to bear.

“Angel.” Crowley moved forward then, laying Aziraphale back against the pillows as their lips met. First tentative again, adjusting to the new position. And then harder, more passionate.

Aziraphale pulled him closer, whimpering, automatically rocking his hips up. He curled one hand around the back of Crowley’s neck, the other behind his shoulder. Conscious thought began to vanish, replaced by pure need and desire.

Crowley bent across him now, one hand cupping his cheek and the other on the bed to support himself. Long red curls spilled across his shoulders, sometimes brushing Aziraphale’s face.

Gasping, Aziraphale broke the kiss and gazed into the golden eyes. Crowley was still wearing his sunglasses, and Aziraphale lifted a hand, not yet touching. “May I take these off?” he asked softly.

“Yeah.” Crowley’s voice was gruff with need, and there was a distinct bulge in his breeches.

He flinched just a little as Aziraphale touched his glasses, and Aziraphale paused. “My dear? We don’t have to take them off if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Crowley gave a slight smile, raising one hand to push his hair back behind his shoulders again. “Nah, s’ fine. I’m just not used to anyone else touching ‘em. That feels… feels just as intimate as anything else we’re doing.”

Aziraphale drew him down, gently kissed his brow. And then, careful, he removed Crowley’s sunglasses. “I’m honored that you trust me with this.”

Tears sparkled in Crowley’s gorgeous golden eyes. “Of course I trust you, angel. With everything.”

The breath caught in Aziraphale’s throat, then emerged in a fluttering exhale. Aziraphale swallowed hard, caressing Crowley’s cheek. “I trust you too, Crowley. With everything. And I… I’d like it very much if you would make love to me, now.”

Was that how one ought to propose such a thing? Aziraphale wasn’t sure. Crowley might think he was silly.

But Crowley kissed him again, slow and tender. And then he met Aziraphale’s gaze, intense. “There’s nothing in the whole bloody universe I want more.”

---

Crowley shifted, rocking his weight back to free up his hands. He gazed down at his angel, drinking him in. The flushed full cheeks, the dilated pupils, the eager way that Aziraphale’s gaze kept darting down to Crowley’s groin.

And oh, Satan, that body. Aziraphale’s arms, strong muscle under padding. The softness of him, so inviting. His ample belly, the swell of it absolutely demanding to be showered with kisses.

“You’re bloody gorgeous, angel.” Crowley bent, kissing down the middle of Aziraphale’s abdomen. He brought his hands to rest on the soft rolls of fat at Aziraphale’s sides, caressing every curve as he pressed his lips to the warm belly.

“Oh, oh!” Aziraphale gave a little wiggle, hips thrusting up into nothing. “Oh, Crowley, that feels… that feels amazing.”

“And I haven’t even touched your cock yet,” Crowley murmured, hand drifting down to the angel’s well-padded hip. “Any objection?”

“Absolutely no objections.” Aziraphale lifted his head, watching eagerly.

Trembling at the sheer honor of this much trust, Crowley brushed his fingers across the bulge in Aziraphale’s breeches. Aziraphale let out a long, whimpering moan, pushing up into his hand. “Oh, Crowley…”

“Mmm, Aziraphale.” Crowley’s cock was painfully hard, especially in his tight breeches, but he struggled to ignore the insistent thrum of desire in favor of taking care of Aziraphale. He caressed his angel’s length, then took him in hand through the fabric and stroked.

Aziraphale grabbed at him with both hands, dragging him back down for another kiss. Crowley managed to get one hand down on the bed before he toppled over—which was good, this would have been incredibly embarrassing otherwise—and joined his lips to Aziraphale’s. He ran his fingers up and down the shaft, coaxing whimpers.

Since that seemed to be going well, he slipped his hand down the front of Aziraphale’s breeches and explored the glory of skin on skin contact with Aziraphale’s groin. The angel almost shouted into the kiss, his cock jumping in Crowley’s hand. “Oh, C-Crowley, please…”

“Clothes off now?” Crowley grunted, barely able to manage the words. He was so turned on, too turned on, his cock aching.

“Yes. And I, too, would very much like the opportunity to touch.” Aziraphale wiggled his fingers, a smile on his face again.

“Hhhhhn.” Crowley tugged at Aziraphale’s breeches, peeling them and the stockings off. Aziraphale’s cock was just as beautiful as the rest of him, and Crowley took him in hand again.

Aziraphale fell back against the pillows, eyes going glassy. Soft moans escaped him at the touch, and his hips twitched upwards into the contact.

But he recovered himself after a couple minutes, pushing into a semi seated position and pouting. “I want to touch too.”

“Mhm,” was all Crowley could manage, his heart pounding in his ears at the idea of that.

Aziraphale’s plump hands settled on his hips, thumbs caressing across the jutting hip bones. And then one hand moved in, cupping Crowley’s prick.

Crowley’s vision whited out, and this time he really did lose his balance. But Aziraphale quickly caught him and eased him back to the pillows, rolling up onto his knees. “A bit overwhelmed already, my dear?”

“Holy fuck,” Crowley gasped, cock throbbing. “Oh, oh, fuck. Touch me again.”

A wide smile graced Aziraphale’s face, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Oh, I intend to.”

Aziraphale kept his eyes locked with Crowley’s, plump hand sliding up and down his shaft. Delicate and careful at first, then tightening when Crowley grunted in annoyance at the lack of pressure. Aziraphale was quick and receptive, picking up on every response.

And oh, fuck, it felt so good. Crowley couldn’t bring himself to look away from his angel’s face, not even when the sheer vulnerability of it made his cheeks burn. He was helpless before this, lost to pleasure.

But while he could have happily let Aziraphale play with his cock all day, he was also curious about other things. Crowley slid his fingers through the soft curls again and drew Aziraphale back down for another kiss, then nuzzled against his cheek. “My turn to take care of you now?”

“Mmmm, please.” Aziraphale kissed him once more, then rolled onto his back. He looked a little nervous now, albeit excited. “Um. I-I know a bit about this, have read my share of steamy literature…”

Crowley smiled. He cupped Aziraphale’s cheek and pressed their brows together, other hand sliding down to tease the angel’s cock. “We’ll take it slow. Tell me if I do anything that hurts you, yeah? I’m just gonna miracle up some warm oil to start…”

Heart thudding in his chest, Crowley shifted down. Aziraphale opened his legs, and Crowley almost groaned at the sight of him. Soft bollocks, just asking to be caressed, and then further down, his hole.

A quick miracle slicked Crowley’s fingers. Trying to remember to breathe, he reached down, brushing against the tight ring of muscle. “Okay for me to start, angel?”

“Yes. Oh goodness, yes.” Aziraphale settled a hand on his head, petting his hair. “I-I’m very excited.”

“Me too.” Crowley exhaled slowly, calming his nerves, and gently slid one finger inside Aziraphale. Just a little at first, and Aziraphale tensed. “You all right?”

The angel petted his head again, and his muscles relaxed. “It’s a bit of an unfamiliar sensation, that’s all. Go ahead, my dear.”

“Okay. Tell me if that changes.” Carefully, Crowley began to slide his finger in and out, preparing his angel. Aziraphale let out a soft, pleased noise, relaxing more as Crowley eased him open.

After a bit, he added another finger and more oil. Aziraphale rocked into the motion, his fingers sliding through Crowley’s hair. “Oh, my dear, that feels wonderful. I just wish I could kiss you.”

“Soon, angel.” Fingers still moving, Crowley looked up and smiled. His cock throbbed, aching with longing to be buried in that tight, hot arse. “So, uh. Like I said, no experience here either. You wanna do it face to face?”

“You make it sound so romantic,” Aziraphale teased. He was flushed, eyes wide with anticipation. “But yes. As I said…”

“Kisses. I know.” Crowley bent and kissed Aziraphale’s tip, then wrapped his lips around the angel’s cockhead. He flicked his tongue, teasing, and Aziraphale gave a cry of delight.

When he was sure that Aziraphale was as prepared as possible, Crowley moved to lay across him again. He rubbed his cock against Aziraphale’s, both of them gasping with need. They brushed their lips together, Aziraphale’s hands settling on his sides.

Crowley positioned himself, then gave Aziraphale a questioning look. The angel nodded eagerly, lying back and lifting his legs. “Is it all right if I wrap my legs around you, dear boy? I’m a bit heavier than you.”

“S’ fine. And you’re perfect.” Crowley ran his hand over the soft stomach again, then exhaled slowly and pushed inside.

He just barely entered Aziraphale, shivering from effort as he tried to stop himself from immediately thrusting deeper. But Aziraphale moaned, legs wrapping around him, hips tilting up. “Oh, Crowley…”

Crowley slid deeper into him, a slow, smooth thrust. He whimpered at the sensation of Aziraphale’s muscles clenching around him, and tears stung his eyes. One hand still braced against the bed, he caressed Aziraphale’s cheek and kissed him tenderly.

Teasing Aziraphale’s lips lightly with his tongue, Crowley drew his hips back. He thrust again, still careful, and Aziraphale moaned into the kiss. The angel’s hands roved, one sliding down to cup his arse, the other curling around the back of his head.

Crowley began to move in a steady rhythm, focused solely on Aziraphale’s comfort even as he began to feel like he might explode from the torturously slow stimulation. But fuck, Aziraphale felt so good, the heat of him so welcoming in the still chilly room.

“Angel,” he murmured against Aziraphale’s neck, pressing kiss after kiss to the softness there. Aziraphale was soft everywhere, his whole body just begging to be appreciated and loved. And snuggled. Extensively.

“Oh, oh…” Aziraphale began to rock with him, moving slightly faster than Crowley. Not quite in rhythm. “This is… oh…”

Crowley sped up to match him, and then Aziraphale sped up a little more. Crowley grinned against his skin, amused by the ploy. He’d always figured that Aziraphale would enjoy sex, even if neither of them had experienced it before. Aziraphale always delighted in the pleasures of the world.

And what a pleasure this was. Crowley sank himself into Aziraphale with more surety now, one hand moving between them to give his cock the attention it deserved. “How’s this?”

“Oh, good Lord! Crowley, that’s…” Aziraphale’s head fell back against the pillows, mouth open and face glowing with what could only be described as bliss.

Flush with his own pleasure and with the joy of reducing Aziraphale to such delight, Crowley sped up. It felt natural now, natural and smooth, although the intensity of sensation still nearly overwhelmed him.

He moved his hand faster too, paying close attention to Aziraphale’s noises and reactions even as his own mind fogged over with a building demand to chase completion. He stroked Aziraphale’s cock, teasing at the spots that seemed to make Aziraphale’s pleasure even more overwhelming.

“Kisses,” Aziraphale demanded, his chest heaving as Crowley drove deep into him. His eyes were wild with pleasure, sweat glistening all across his soft skin. “Kiss me, my dear Crowley.”

“Hhhhhng.” Crowley couldn’t manage words right now, attention fully absorbed, but he could absolutely manage kisses. He curled across Aziraphale, pumping his hips, and kissed him hard. Lips sliding and dragging together, tongues meeting in a dance that was feeling more familiar every second.

And then something exploded inside Crowley, pleasure like he’d never felt before. He stiffened, crying out with the sheer force of it, tears squeezing from his eyes. He curled against Aziraphale, whimpering as climax burned through him.

When he could think again—a little, at least—he kissed Aziraphale again and resumed his earlier attention. Although he could feel himself softening, he stayed right where he was, buried in Aziraphale’s ample arse.

Aziraphale panted, fingers sliding through Crowley’s hair, other hand on his hip. He moaned into the kisses, hips rocking up into the movements of Crowley’s hand.

The extra movement was overstimulating, enough to make Crowley’s mind scatter with pleasure, but he kept going. He found the spots that made Aziraphale gasp and keen, that made his head fall back, that drove him up towards the peak of sheer bliss.

And then Aziraphale was crying out, his come splattering across both of their bellies. The angel’s head went back again, his eyes closed, and Crowley pressed kiss after kiss to his throat, his soft jawline, his cheek.

“Was that okay?” Crowley asked once Aziraphale’s breaths calmed, his own words almost slurred as a heavy, pleasure drunk feeling settled across him. He stroked the sweaty curls off Aziraphale’s brow, followed the motion with a kiss. “You’re beautiful, y’know. My angel.”

The hazel eyes cracked open, a lazy smile on Aziraphale’s face. He cupped Crowley’s cheek with a quivering hand, gazing into his eyes. “It was simply wonderful, my dearest. Quite, um… exhausting.”

Crowley gave a tired chuckle. He slipped out of Aziraphale and reached for one of the clean cloths, dampened it, wiped away the come. Not a perfect job, but although stickiness was indeed pretty fun, he liked being clean.

Then, sated, he dropped back against the pillows to Aziraphale’s left and opened his arms. “C’mere and let me snuggle you.”

“Oooh.” Aziraphale pulled the blankets around them both and cuddled against Crowley. He patted Crowley’s hip, smiling. “You think of everything.”

There was something else circling in Crowley’s thoughts, something that insisted on being said. He traced the lines of Aziraphale’s face, treasuring him. “I really love you, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale inhaled sharply, tearing up. He leaned in and kissed Crowley, slow and tender, then pressed their brows together. “I love you too, Crowley. So much.”





Ch6



Aziraphale snuggled against Crowley, letting his hand drift up and down the demon’s bony side. He traced the line of his ribs, skimmed down to caress his hip bone.

Crowley’s breaths were slow and even, almost as if he’d fallen asleep tangled together in the blankets. But his hand moved in the same manner as Aziraphale’s, as if trying to memorize the feel of every inch of him.

And they should certainly take the opportunity. They wouldn’t get another one.

A few tears stung Aziraphale’s eyes, and he sniffled. Crowley immediately shifted, moving to nuzzle into Aziraphale’s hair. “What’s wrong, angel?”

“Oh, just… our lives.” Aziraphale gave a weak chuckle, sifting through Crowley’s chest hair again. He wanted to simply bury his face in it, to hide and never come out. “I wish…”

But even saying what he wished was an awful idea. No more dangerous than making love, but rather more pointless. A single night together could be a joy, a treasured memory of pleasure and union. But discussing plans for the future, or wishes, or hopes…

How could they, when the Great Plan was all laid out before them? Each step they would take, charted. All leading towards an inevitable end.

“Hey.” Crowley nuzzled against him again, coaxing his head up until they could see each other. The demon gave a sympathetic pout, his slender fingers ruffling Aziraphale’s hair. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“Oh, it’s just…” Sighing, Aziraphale moved his own hand to Crowley’s face. Tracing the curve of his lips with a thumb. Crowley kissed it. “It seems silly, thinking about, well… what else I’d like to do with you.”

Crowley frowned. “Why would that be silly?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Aziraphale shook his head. “No, I… Crowley, I don’t want to talk about this yet. I want to enjoy this time, not get all sad.”

His voice broke, and the tears slipped loose. Crowley moved in, kissing them away with feather light brushes of his lips. “Shhh, s’ all right. This was, uh… gosh, we’ve both had a lot of emotions. It’s okay to cry.”

“But I don’t like crying.” Aziraphale snuggled closer into his embrace, letting Crowley draw him close. The demon was warmer now that they’d gotten all snuggled up together, and resting beside him felt so very lovely.

“Nnh. I don’t like crying either, but… sometimes, you gotta.” Another kiss pressed to his head, and Crowley’s hand drifted up and down his back. “And don’t feel like you need to apologize, okay? I love you equally as much when you’re happy or sad.”

An intense thrill rushed through Aziraphale again at those words. “You really love me?”

“What kinda question is that?” Crowley pulled back a little, giving him a lopsided, fond smile. “Would I lie to you?”

Aziraphale gently poked his gorgeous nose. “Well, you are a demon.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “No, angel. I’m not lying. I really love you.”

“Well, good.” Aziraphale wiggled back into his embrace, pressing his face into the thin shoulder and inhaling. Crowley smelled different now, still smoky but with the scents of their lovemaking blending with it. “Because I really love you too.”

Saying those words brought on a mixed jolt of adrenaline. Excitement at being able to say them, and at understanding his feelings, his desires. And then an undercurrent of fear, as if he’d suddenly Fall for being in love with a demon.

“Hhhhhn, I love hearing you say that.” Crowley massaged his scalp, lips pressing to his shoulder. “I’m so damn happy we got to do this. All of it. It felt… whoo-eee.”

Aziraphale chuckled, patting his demon’s side again. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“Mm.” Crowley’s other hand drifted lower, down Aziraphale’s spine and finally settling on his bottom. And then Crowley froze. “Er. Maybe should ask first, you don’t mind if I grab your arse, right?”

Smiling, Aziraphale moved so he could reach more easily. “No, my dear. I certainly do not mind.”

“Okay.” And then Crowley was sitting up, pushing back the blanket. He tilted his head, gazing at Aziraphale’s bottom with the utmost love. “You have a fantastic arse, y’know.”

“It’s very comfortable for sitting on.” It was difficult not to laugh, but Aziraphale didn’t want to do anything to interrupt that utterly adorable look on Crowley’s face. Smitten, love-drunk, his touch gentle. “I’m glad you enjoy it.”

“I do. Really do.” Crowley bent and kissed his behind, then flopped back against the pillows. He patted Aziraphale’s tummy next, equally full of affection. “I enjoy all of you. Bloody gorgeous, you are.”

“Oh, you old serpent.” Aziraphale giggled, cheered up. They would need to discuss things later, but not just yet. “I’m a bit peckish…”

“Of course you are.” Crowley pushed up and studied the tray. “Well, we’ve got wine. And I had snacks for you in my bag, but they’re probably soaked. Okay if I just miracle something up?”

“That sounds lovely. I’d like, oh, let’s see…” Aziraphale frowned, thinking. “Well, some sort of sweets. Honey cakes?”

Crowley leaned to kiss him again, a quick peck. “Honey cakes it is. Anything else?”

“Some cheese.” That ought to go well with the cakes, and would be a bit more restorative than yummy sweetness alone.

“Okay.” Crowley closed his eyes, furrows of concentration appearing in his brow. He snapped his fingers, and two platters appeared on the bed with them. One stacked high with honey cakes, the other with an assortment of cheese. “There we go. Enjoy.”

“Oh, you do spoil me.” In the interests of enjoying being spoiled, Aziraphale stole another kiss before digging into his snacks.

---

Crowley reclined on the bed, arms behind his head, watching as Aziraphale ate.

He’d always loved watching the angel devour food, but it was different right now. More comfortable. They still hadn’t dressed, both naked in bed together, covered only by the blankets.

This felt natural, right. As if it was what they should be doing every day. Relaxing in a great big bed together, enjoying each other’s company. Aziraphale eating whatever he wanted, and Crowley pampering him.

But it wasn’t what they would get to do every day. Because while they’d been on their own side in some ways for centuries, Heaven and Hell didn’t see it that way.

Crowley let his gaze travel, etching Aziraphale into his memory. The total comfort and happiness on his face, the excited way he chose his next honey cake, the little wiggles of excitement when he bit into the snack. He was beautiful.

And he loved Crowley. Actually loved him. Trusted him. That right there felt like a miracle, a real miracle.

“Would you like a cake?” Aziraphale asked hopefully, turning around with one already in his hand. “They’re very yummy. You did a wonderful job on them.”

“Hn, okay.” It was impossible to say no to Aziraphale, especially right now. Crowley opened his mouth.

Aziraphale broke off little pieces and fed them to him, expression fond. He seemed to be enjoying this just as much as he enjoyed eating the cakes himself.

And Crowley found himself enjoying food loads more than he usually did.

He chewed the last of the honey cake, then raised an eyebrow. “Well? Don’t I get any cheese?”

“Ooh, yes! I would be delighted to share.” Wiggling excitedly again, Aziraphale plucked a cheese off the platter. He fed it to Crowley, beaming all the while.

The sharp cheese was the perfect antidote to the sweetness of the honey cakes, balanced everything nicely. Just as he and Aziraphale balanced each other, his hard edges against Aziraphale’s soft curves.

Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand, slotting his fingers into place. It looked so right, as if their hands belonged exactly like this. Together, just as they belonged together.

Without either of them needing to speak, they reclined together against the pillows, Crowley leaned his head against the angel’s, resting their joined hands on Aziraphale’s well padded thigh.

It was tempting to close his eyes, to let himself drift off when he felt so utterly safe. But that would be a waste of this precious time, time that they might never get again.

“I meant to ask earlier,” Aziraphale murmured, “but I got a bit, um, distracted. How is your head? And, well, your body?”

“Oh, from the fall? Eh.” Squeezing Aziraphale’s hand, Crowley snuggled closer. “Little sore overall, but nothing big. You fixed up my concussion great, I’ve just got a minor headache.”

“Well, I am relieved by that.” Aziraphale ran a light, careful hand across his hair. “I’d hate to think that you were in dreadful pain that whole time. I know you, you old serpent. You’d endure a great deal of pain if it meant making me happy.”

“Nnnh.” There was no good way to argue with that. It was absolutely true, and they both knew it. “I’m all good. What about you?”

Aziraphale turned towards him, brightness faltering. Apprehension replaced it. “Um, also a bit sore. Would… would you give me that back rub now, Crowley?”

Breath catching, Crowley stared at him. And then he grinned, shoving up to his knees. “Love to. You wanna lie down, and I’ll make it a proper massage?”

“Oh, oh yes! You truly do spoil me, my dear.” Aziraphale laid down, looking relaxed again. “Thank you for not being angry with me, by the way. Over turning you down initially, I mean.”

“S’ all right. I know you just wanted to keep me safe.” Crowley snapped his fingers, coating his hands in warm massage oil. He rubbed his hands together for good measure, then began with light circles. Just relaxing Aziraphale’s muscles to start.

“You truly are kind, Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly. “I know you like to deny it, but you are. Kind, compassionate, loving…”

Crowley kissed the back of his head. “Stop that, you bastard.”

They both lapsed into a comfortable silence, Aziraphale letting out the occasional contented noise as Crowley massaged. Light circles first, and then more pressure. Coaxing the tense muscles to relax, working at the sore areas.

“Oh, that feels simply marvelous,” Aziraphale finally said. “Perhaps you’d permit me to do the same for you after?”

“Sure, sounds great.” Crowley studied Aziraphale’s body appreciatively, caressing the soft rolls at his sides again. They really did need to spend more time cuddling before their night was over. “Need me to get anywhere else?”

“No, that’s quite enough. Thank you, dear boy.” Aziraphale straightened up, kissed him, and then patted the pillows. “I like that very much. Kissing, I mean. I’ve never done it before.”

“Me neither.” Wincing, Crowley settled in for his own massage. He was feeling the aches more now, his afterglow wearing off. “I really enjoy it. Wasn’t sure how it would feel, but it’s really fun. All of this is fun.”

“It is. And very emotional, as well.” Aziraphale’s soft hands, warm with oil, moved across Crowley’s back. Copying the same gentle circles. “I never quite imagined how… profound it would feel. Being with you, I mean. I had, um, considered it on occasion.”

Crowley didn’t need to look to see that Aziraphale was blushing. “Oh, believe me. I had too.”

“Could I ask…” Aziraphale hesitated, hands stilling for a moment near Crowley’s shoulder blades. “Why hadn’t you broached the topic before?”

“Are you kidding me?” Crowley turned to give his angel a faint smile. “I’m a demon. Fallen. And I’m really not a fan of rejection.”

Aziraphale’s expression crumpled, and he leaned down. “My dear, sweet boy,” he whispered, then brushed his lips to Crowley’s. “I suppose it’s for the best that you didn’t bring it up.”

“Given how you reacted to a back rub? Yeah.” In the hopes of taking any sting out of the words, Crowley stretched to kiss him once more. “And you?”

“Oh, I…” Aziraphale sighed, working gently at Crowley’s sore back. “I, um, didn’t think you could possibly be interested in someone silly like me. I’m not ‘cool’ in the slightest, or dashing, or…”

“Yes you are,” Crowley said indignantly, twisting to glare at him. “You’re bloody amazing, angel.”

“Well, I don’t know about that.” With an almost apologetic smile, Aziraphale stroked down the length of his spine. “I mean, I gave away my flaming sword and promptly told you about it. That was hardly amazing.”

Okay. Enough massage.

Crowley rolled over onto his back, grabbed Aziraphale’s arms, and pulled the angel down into the nest of pillows and blankets. Aziraphale let out an alarmed squeak. “Aziraphale.”

“Um?” Aziraphale asked, looking entirely baffled.

Crowley pulled him into a kiss, pouring all his love and devotion into it, the emotion resonating through every plane in Creation. When he broke off, he cradled Aziraphale’s face in both hands and smiled. “You giving away that damn flaming sword was part of why I fell in love with you, you idiot.”

Aziraphale gave a delighted little laugh. “What, really?”

“Really. I already liked you, but that…” Crowley shook his head, searching for the words. “That told me you were special. Well, that and the fact you didn’t smite me.”

His happiness so strong Crowley could feel it, Aziraphale hugged him tight. “Smiting you never crossed my mind, you know. I suppose I knew you were rather special from Eden as well. You were so understanding, and you actually listened to me! It was rather unlike, well, my experiences with any other being.”

“Mm. You deserve to be listened to.” Crowley nuzzled into the softness of his shoulder. They flopped back against the pillows, tangled together.

There was no listening right now, though. Aziraphale instantly captured his lips again. Light, teasing kisses at the corner of his mouth, hand sliding up into his hair. Crowley groaned with appreciation.

Another light press, and then a longer, lingering kiss. A happy fog descended over Crowley’s mind, sheer bliss. Gosh, if only they could do this all the time. He’d be less depressed, Aziraphale would be less anxious…

But they couldn’t. He stuffed the feelings down deeper, where they couldn’t leak out and contaminate this moment of peace.

But Aziraphale paused, lips stilling. “You feel sad,” he said quietly. “I can… I can literally feel it. In the same way I felt your love earlier.”

A jolt went through Crowley. He brushed his lips to Aziraphale’s again, cupping his cheek. “Yeah? I could feel… happiness, earlier.”

He cast his attention deeper, seeking out Aziraphale on multiple planes of existence. In the metaphysical realms, Aziraphale was amorphous, shifting between the appearance of his corporeal form and his angelic self. Golden wheels and rings dancing with affection, innumerable loving eyes, a wealth of fluffy white wings. His True Form, all lit up with a gorgeous golden glow.

Crowley moved closer there, too, letting his coils brush against the wheels for a heartbeat. Love resonated through their connection, overwhelming him.

He pulled back to his body, gasping, trembling as he clutched at Aziraphale. Aziraphale was breathing just as hard, hands sliding through his hair. “Crowley,” he whispered. “Oh, Crowley.”

“M’ sorry we…” There was too much emotion, uncontrollable. “That we can’t do this again all the bloody time. I just… oh, angel, I wish I could be with you forever.”

A sob burst out, and he clutched Aziraphale to him. Joined their lips again, kissing him over and over as hot tears fell. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t bloody fair.

“Oh, my dear.” Aziraphale’s tears fell too, mingling with his. They kissed again, and then the angel drew back. He cradled Crowley’s face in both hands, gazing into his eyes. “I-I know we can’t be together out there, in the world. But… be with me now, Crowley?”

Crowley nodded, caressing his angel’s soft face. “I love you.”

Aziraphale leaned in, kissing him once again. “I love you too.”

---

Heart racing, Aziraphale pulled his demon closer, back on top of him. This sort of position—Crowley leaning across him, curling over him—felt wonderfully protective. Safe.

He let his hand move down as they kissed, brushing against Crowley’s stomach and then further down. Combing through the wiry red hair, and then stroking his cock.

Crowley was already hardening, and he whimpered against Aziraphale’s mouth at the touch. Aziraphale took him in hand, savoring the chance to truly touch, to bring Crowley that intense pleasure.

Last time they’d made love, Aziraphale had been the one being thoroughly pampered. But this time…

He kissed Crowley again, stroking slowly up and down his length. Carefully, he drew closer in the metaphysical realms. A brief brush of his wings against Crowley, then drawing back before the crescendo of mutual feeling could overwhelm either of them.

“Love you,” Crowley mumbled into the kiss, lips catching and dragging. “Love you… so much. Angel.”

“I love you too.” Aziraphale drew him down, cradling the demon’s head to his shoulder as he stroked the hard length. Crowley gasped at each touch, hips stuttering forward, and Aziraphale relished the feel of him.

They were still learning each other’s bodies, still exploring. Crowley panted against his neck, hand roving across Aziraphale’s stomach, side, chest. Touching him all over, just as Aziraphale touched back.

When Crowley seemed in true danger of toppling over from the stimulation, Aziraphale rolled them both over. He eased Crowley back to the pillows and slid down, mouth watering at the sight of that gorgeous cock. “Oh, my dear. You’re absolutely stunning.”

He bent and took Crowley in his mouth, sampling, tasting. Crowley let out a high keen of need, fingers digging into his scalp. Aziraphale lapped at his demon’s cock, tongue lightly teasing, and then began to move his head.

An odd sensation at first, almost overwhelming. But then he relaxed into it, enjoying the feeling, and absolutely delighting in all the noises that Crowley made. The moans, the whimpers, even a cry or two.

Tears slipped down Aziraphale’s cheeks, emotions building even with his own arousal. This would be a most precious memory, one he would carry with him. And for that, he wanted to see his beloved.

He let Crowley slip out of his mouth and climbed across him. Crowley’s cheeks were damp with tears too, his lip trembling as he settled both hands on Aziraphale’s hips. “Angel.”

“Crowley, my dearest Crowley.” Aziraphale reached down, taking Crowley’s length in hand. He positioned the throbbing cock at his own entrance, using a quick miracle to slick himself up again. Another judicious use of power relaxed his muscles a bit. Having Crowley prepare him was nice, but there were other things he wanted to try and precious little time.

Little by little, he sank down onto Crowley’s length. It was almost too much, too overwhelming, and he whimpered.

Crowley gave a worried look, hand brushing against his cheek. “Shh, s’ all right, angel. You wanna get in a different position, or let me take care of you?”

“No, I want to do this.” Aziraphale exhaled slowly, relaxing his muscles, and sank down a bit more. Crowley’s slender fingers brushed his cock, light and careful. So loving.

Once Aziraphale had taken Crowley inside him, he began to roll his hips. Slowly at first, testing the sensation. Crowley gasped, hands fisting on the blankets as he tried not to thrust. “Oh, fffffuck, angel…”

“It’s all right, my love. We’ll just… take it nice and easy.” Aziraphale bent forward, resting his brow against Crowley’s.

They began to rock together, slow and tender, exchanging gentle kisses. Crowley curled a hand around the nape of his neck, massaging. His other hand cupped and kneaded Aziraphale’s bottom.

It felt lovely. They hadn’t precisely rushed the first time, but this was even slower, even more gentle. Taking pleasure in each other, hands and lips exploring as their joined bodies moved together.

“I’d like to… try something else,” Aziraphale said, breathless. “With our True Forms. Please tell me if it’s too much.”

Crowley smiled and reached out to him on the metaphysical planes. Iridescent serpentine coils slithered around Aziraphale, looping, exploring his wheels and rings. Each moment of contact charged the emotions higher.

This was touch between their very souls, blending together. Crowley’s essence was sharper, more jagged, but the harsh edges calmed as Aziraphale flowed through him. Like water across stone, smoothing.

The little bit of wariness in Crowley settled, his love overpowering all else. Aziraphale folded infinite wings around his coils, holding him close, drawing him in. Inviting him deeper into the meld.

Crowley met him, his fiery essence warming the union. Such utter devotion, the fierce love that had so often taken Aziraphale’s breath away even before he knew what to call it.

Their bodies and minds moved as one, sparks of pleasure searing through the meld. Distinctions blurred away, and yet remained. Still two beings, delighting in each other, and yet all the walls and separations of their existence falling away. There was nothing here but their love for each other, devotion, commitment.

Hands moved across Aziraphale’s body, stroking him, and the hardness of Crowley filling him brought on an overwhelming wave of ecstasy. He rocked faster, crushing his lips to the demon’s, throwing himself into each movement.

Crowley poured into him, his True Form singing with pleasure, his body moving faster, hand stroking up and down his cock. And he drew Aziraphale up with him, whirling upwards, journeying together to overpowering heights of bliss.

Joy and love, an explosion of the most powerful pleasure that Aziraphale had ever experienced. His ecstasy resonated with Crowley’s, the shockwave of climax bursting through both of them. There was nothing but each other’s pleasure, the utter connection, the undeniable love.

When Aziraphale came back to himself, he was in Crowley’s arms, lying across him. Crowley still inside him, although softening. Aziraphale’s cock, lying trapped between the two of them, ached with the sensitivity that seemed to follow climax.

He rested his head on Crowley’s shoulder, sated. When Crowley slipped out, Aziraphale groaned in protest at the loss.

They turned onto their sides, sweaty and tangled together. Their True Forms flowed apart, Crowley’s coils settling in against Aziraphale’s wheels. No longer actively melding, yet snuggling metaphysically as well as on the Earth plane.

For some time, neither of them spoke. They just held each other, breathless, occasional tears falling. Crowley pressed a shaky kiss to his face, pulled him closer, and Aziraphale went to him.

He laid a hand on Crowley’s chest, feeling the rise and fall. They were both rather messy, sticky even, but Aziraphale didn’t care. He simply wanted to remain here forever, curled up together.

Finally, Crowley shifted a little. He slid his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair, kissed his head. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Aziraphale kept his eyes closed, didn’t move. But other feelings grew, a different sort of ache. “But once we leave here… we can’t. Can’t love each other.”

He sobbed, pressing closer. Crowley pulled blankets around them and hugged him, making soft shushing noises. “Nonono, don’t be daft. ‘Course we can love each other. We just can’t… y’know.”

Tears hot on Aziraphale’s cheeks, he wrapped both arms tight around his demon. He breathed in the smoky aroma, the smell of lovemaking. He must remember this, all of it. “We just can’t say it.”

“No.” A near silent sob rippled through Crowley’s, his tears landing on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “But we can feel it, and we’ll know that it’s reciprocated. We’ll always know.”

Aziraphale snuggled up against his demon, cupping his cheek. “Always,” he whispered, and kissed Crowley again. “I will always love you.”

Rain drummed down, wind gusting outside. The storm that had chased them in here still raged. But in here, with the fireplace crackling and blankets around then, Aziraphale kissed Crowley again. There was nothing to fear.





Ch7



As dawn broke, first traces of soft lavender light filling the room through the high windows, Aziraphale sighed. He let his hand drift up and down Crowley’s chest, tracing light hearts. “Well. I suppose we ought to prepare to leave.”

“Nnh, there’s no real rush, is there?” Crowley’s lips pressed to his forehead, lingering. “I mean, I know we’ve got jobs to do. Long ride back to London and all. But still.”

“Well, I’m not supposed to go back to London. I ought to take a trip to Edinburgh while I’m already this far north. I am supposed to be influencing it, after all.” Sighing again, Aziraphale stretched to kiss Crowley’s throat. He traveled down, light brushes of his lips, and nibbled at the very tempting, exposed collarbone. “I presume you’re not headed that direction?”

“Fuck,” Crowley said, his disappointment so strong that it almost dimmed the morning light. He let out a long snarling noise of annoyance and flopped back against the pillows. “I hoped we’d get more time together. But yeah, I’m meant to be in London next. Do some evil deeds.”

“Such as?” Battling his own disappointment, Aziraphale sat up. He smoothed Crowley’s hair out of his face, then carefully gathered it on the demon’s right side and combed his fingers through the tangled locks. “Are you encouraging people to gamble away all their money? Inciting trouble along the Thames, coaxing those watermen to say naughty words?”

Crowley gave a quick laugh, expression lightening. “Nyeh, I thought I might mess with London’s traffic a bit more. It’s already a mess, but I’m sure there’s ways I can make it more of a mess. Way too many carts and coaches and shit.”

“Mm. The evilest of deeds, causing traffic congestion.” Aziraphale leaned around his demon, very intentionally making as much physical contact as possible, and took the comb from the bedside table. He sat back, smiling at the way Crowley’s gaze tracked him. “I think you’re engaging in lust right now, my dear.”

“How could I not?” Crowley grabbed his hip, stopping him from sitting back down, and showered several kisses to his belly. “Hhhn, are you sure we have to leave today?”

“We don’t want to impose on our hosts.” Suddenly guilty, Aziraphale looked towards the thoroughly abandoned manuscript. “Oh. I entirely forgot about those translations. I-I suppose I ought to do those.”

“Nrng.” Crowley kissed his belly again, then let him go. “Comb my hair first, yeah? And then, if you like, I can do something cool for you while you check out the manuscript.”

Frowning, Aziraphale collected Crowley’s thick, wavy hair again. “What sort of thing? I’m afraid I’m rather lacking in long, luscious locks.”

Crowley snorted and ruffled his curls. “Yeah, but you do have wings.”

Aziraphale froze. He stared at Crowley for a minute, shocked. “You… you want to groom my wings?”

“In all honesty, I’d really like it if we groomed each other’s wings.” Lifting his eyebrows, Crowley gave a tempting little side to side sway. “How about it?”

“I-I do like that idea.” Clearing his throat, Aziraphale set about making the red hair shine. “It’s just rather, well. Intimate.”

“I don’t think wing grooming is especially more intimate than fucking, angel.” Amusement danced on Crowley’s lips.

“Making love,” Aziraphale corrected primly.

Crowley’s smirk turned into a full grin. “Sure, if you like. But the point still stands. I mean… Aziraphale, we melded. We ‘made love’ with our True Forms. It really does not get more intimate than that.”

“Oh, very well. You fiend.” Aziraphale leaned to kiss him again, a quick brush of the lips. And then another kiss, slower. “My fiend.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.” Crowley caressed his hip, hand skimming down his thigh. “I wish I could hear it all the damn time.”

Aziraphale sighed, spirits dampened a bit. This sort of thing truly was so fun. Profound, yes, but also simply enjoyable. He loved being with Crowley, in every sense of the phrase. “I suppose that you can consider it implied. My fiend, my demon, my old serpent.”

“Gosh, you’re a flirt.” Crowley gave another lazy grin. “In that case, you consider it implied too. My angel.”

Cheeks warm, Aziraphale ducked his head and smiled shyly. “Now who’s the flirt?”

“Absolutely both of us.” Crowley turned a bit so that Aziraphale could more easily comb his hair. He locked his hands together and stretched, his lanky body rippling in a most alluring fashion. “D’ya want me to get you any food, by the way? You could eat with one hand, turn pages with the other.”

“Ooh. Honey cakes again?” Aziraphale ran the comb through his hair a few more times, then separated it into three sections and wove it into a thick braid. It would have been fun to do a more elaborate hairstyle, but Crowley would need his hair down later to stay warm.

He tied off the braid with a ribbon, mouth watering at the thought of more honey cakes. Once done with that, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed and shook his wings into the physical plane.

“Wow, you really do have the most beautiful wings,” Crowley murmured, hands skimming lightly across Aziraphale’s coverts. “Demons, er, don’t let anyone touch their wings. Not trustworthy down there. You ever had someone do this for you?”

“No, I’m afraid not. It wasn’t the thing to do, by the time I was Created.” He’d been made to fight, and Heaven’s days of mutual wing grooming were past. “Did you? Before, I mean.”

When Crowley had been a Starmaker. He’d made such beautiful things, stars and nebulae that he liked to point out when they went for nighttime walks.

“Eh, I was always more of a loner. Weirdo, really, too curious about Creation to make friends.” Crowley kissed the base of Aziraphale’s left wing, sending a shiver through him. “Until you. You’re my first friend, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale smiled, closing his eyes for a moment as Crowley’s nimble fingers worked through his wings. Sorting out the dead feathers, gently pulling and discarding them. “And you’re very much mine, my dear. I do hope… that it’ll be enough.”

“Hn?” Another kiss, this one to the back of Aziraphale’s neck as Crowley smoothed his coverts. “What d’ya mean?”

“Our… friendship. I-I hope it doesn’t feel…” Aziraphale twisted his hands together, tears filling his eyes. The careful, loving touches traveled through his wing, putting it in order. “I hope it doesn’t feel like less, after this. That you aren’t disappointed in me.”

“How could I ever be disappointed in you?” Crowley said in the single most sincere tone that Aziraphale had ever heard. “You’re my angel. My best friend. All right, so we’ve gotta pretend to be enemies out there. We can’t have sex. But what does that matter when we love each other so fucking much?”

A few tears slipped loose, and Aziraphale gave a faint laugh as he wiped them away. “I-I suppose that’s true. I’m just fretting, it seems.”

“My fretful angel.” Crowley gently adjusted his wing, kissing along his shoulder. “S’ all right. But yeah, in answer to your question. It’ll be enough. More than enough. As long as I get to be with you, in whatever capacity, I’m happy. And who knows what might happen in the future?”

The future was already written. But for now, Aziraphale nudged that thought aside and let himself simply enjoy the moment.

Alas, though, he did need to get to those translations. He laid a blanket across his lap and rested the manuscript on it, going through and checking the translations, the information. It was remarkably well written, very competent.

“Do you think Mister Chase would let me have a copy of this, when he’s done?” Aziraphale asked, reaching for another honey cake. He ate it quickly, then made a few more corrections. “I suppose it might be awkward, requesting one after I said I was here to investigate him.”

“Just tell him you’re a bookseller. You spend enough time in the shops, might as well be.” Crowley’s slim hands settled on his sides, and he rested his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Okay. Your wings are done.”

“I’ll be with yours in just a moment, dear boy.” Aziraphale scribbled another note. Crowley sat behind him, wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s waist, and waited.

Oh good Lord, sitting like this was so lovely too. Aziraphale enjoyed it thoroughly, the feeling of Crowley so close. They couldn’t do this in the future, but perhaps they would spend more time sitting near each other.

“All right.” Aziraphale rose and slid his wings back into the metaphysical planes. Crowley’s face tightened, and Aziraphale kissed him. “Don’t be so disappointed, my dear. I do think that wing grooming is, um, something acceptable between friends. So long as we’re careful.”

Crowley lit up with excitement, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. Not often, but… sometimes, we might indulge. When we’ve been drinking, and our inhibitions are lowered, and we’re not entirely responsible for our actions.” Cheeks warm, Aziraphale clambered back on the bed. “Wings, please.”

Black wings burst into being, glossy and stunning, capturing all the light in the room. Hints of purple and green, even flashes of red. Almost as iridescent as Crowley’s True Form.

Aziraphale ran a shaky hand across them, enraptured. Crowley’s feathers were so silky, beautifully maintained. “You’re quite fussy about taking care of these, aren’t you? Better than I am.”

“Hn, maybe. I kinda overgroom ‘em, sometimes. Get a little overzealous about everything needing to be perfect.” Crowley turned to give a sheepish smile. “I clean when I’m anxious. And my wings are always attached to me, and it’s easy to manifest them, so…”

“Oh dear.” There were in fact a few thinner patches that had clearly been groomed to the point that Aziraphale didn’t dare do more than stroke them, for fear of dislodging the remaining feathers. “Well, perhaps if we’re in London, you could come visit me instead?”

Crowley was silent for a moment. He took slow, even breaths, wonderfully relaxed. He was a bit bruised on one side, the side where he’d slammed into the ground, but he only seemed a little sore. “Er, not that I object to the invitation, but why?”

“Oh, it might help if I explained, hmm?” Aziraphale laid his thumbs on one of Crowley’s flight feathers and carefully skimmed down, locking the barbs in place. He did the same to the next, taking it slow. “I have all those books, you know, and many other belongings. You could come over and organize them for me.”

“Oooh.” Crowley leaned his head back, giving a lopsided grin. “Might take you up on that. Sounds fun.”

Smiling, Aziraphale carefully preened the gorgeous black feathers. It was so lovely, doing something like this for Crowley. Yet another wonderful new experience, and one that he wished he could do all the time. This, at least, was something a bit less dangerous than lovemaking.

But it was at an end much sooner than he would have liked. Sighing, he wrapped his arms around Crowley and kissed his thin shoulders. “I’m afraid we really ought to get going, dear boy.”

Crowley pressed back against him, then turned around. He cupped Aziraphale’s face in both hands and kissed him, hard and passionate. Aziraphale whimpered into the kiss, tears falling again.

He didn’t want this to end. Didn’t want to go their separate ways. His chest ached with it, sobs threatening to escape along with the tears.

When they separated, Crowley sniffled. He lightly stroked Aziraphale’s cheeks, gave a teary smile. “Thanks for this, angel. For trusting me with everything.”

Aziraphale tried to return the smile, although it took all of his self control not to cry in earnest. He gazed into the golden eyes, drinking in every detail. “Thank you for trusting me too.”

---

The lump in Crowley’s throat refused to go away, even once he put his wings away and got dressed. He and Aziraphale had said goodbye to each other plenty of times before, and it always left him feeling down. It had never stung quite like this before, though.

He chased the thoughts off and fed Aziraphale the last of the honey cakes before turning to pack up their stuff. Aziraphale’s poor waterlogged books were decomposing on the floor. “Whoops, hang on. Lemme take care of these.”

A snap of the fingers restored the books to pristine condition, and he passed them to his angel with a grin. The miracle had lightened his heart a little, made it easier to enjoy this. He’d always loved doing things for Aziraphale, and taking care of his books felt good.

“Oh, you’re simply wonderful. Thank you.” Aziraphale was smiling now too, relaxing back to the way he’d been as Crowley groomed his wings. That had felt good, too. Both taking care of Aziraphale, and having his own done.

Crowley carried their saddlebags as they returned to the hall. Chase and Philip were seated at the table, smell of hot bread filling the room. Piece of bread in his hand, Chase waved. “Good morrow! You both look quite well rested.”

“Satisfied, even,” Philip murmured, almost too low to hear. He looked amused.

Crowley stayed on guard anyway, circling behind Aziraphale as the angel handed the manuscript over. “You’ve done quite a nice job on this,” Aziraphale said, admiring. “I let a few notes on the translations. And if you’re ever in London, please feel free to look me up if you need further assistance.”

“We aren’t.” Philip reached for another piece of bread. “Safer up here, it is. No one with backwards ideas.”

Crowley’s remaining suspicion eased. These humans didn’t intend anyone harm, and Philip’s hostility wasn’t due to any evil plans. They were just two people who loved each other.

“Well, thank you very much.” Smiling, Chase looked through the book. “I may send you a letter, if I have questions. I would appreciate the assistance.”

“Well, we very much appreciated yours.” Aziraphale beamed at them, then stepped back to join Crowley. “Thank you for offering us shelter last night. You have no idea what you’ve done for us.”

“Come on, angel,” Crowley murmured, tugging on his sleeve. “Let’s get out of their way.”

The humans waved to them again, then went back to their breakfast and their conversation. They looked happy, so happy, and Crowley’s gut wrenched with a brief blast of envy.

But seeing that happiness again only made him more determined. He and Aziraphale loved each other. And sure, their Sides might be heading for a confrontation. But that didn’t mean inevitable loss and pain.

“It’s gonna be all right,” he said to Aziraphale as they led their horses out of the stables. “All this. It’s gonna be all right, I promise.”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale sighed, giving a fond smile. “You can hardly know that. The Great Plan—”

“Nyeh, fuck the Great Plan. And don’t tell me off for swearing.” Crowley stopped, catching Aziraphale’s plump hand in his. He gazed into the hazel eyes, poured his love into every word. “I don’t believe in destiny, angel, or that anything is inevitable. But I do believe in one thing. Us. I believe in us, with everything that I am.”

“Oh…” Aziraphale gazed up at him longingly, hand coming to touch his chest. He gave a nervous little smile then, and quickly lowered his hand. “Crowley, that’s… that’s sweet and all, but… Someone might see us.”

No one up here would care; Crowley was sure of that. But he lifted his hand, snapped his fingers, and the world halted around them. The horses froze beside them, birdsong stopped, and even the clouds stopped moving. “There. Now no one can see us.”

“Crowley, you… you fiend. You’ve stopped time?” A chuckle slipped from Aziraphale, his eyes teary. “That may simply be the most… the most romantic thing…”

He sobbed then, and Crowley pulled him into a close embrace. He held Aziraphale to his chest, curling around the softness. With soft shushing sounds, he nuzzled into the angel’s hair. “I love you, Aziraphale. No matter what, we’ll find a way. I promise. Have some faith, yeah?”

Sniffling, Aziraphale hugged him tightly. So tightly that he could hardly breathe. “That’s a rather funny thing for a demon to say, isn’t it?”

“Nnh, maybe. But like I said, I believe in us.” Crowley kissed his head, swaying in a gentle rocking motion. “As long as we’ve got each other, we can do anything.”

Aziraphale made a soft noise, one of contentment then. He drew back a bit, smiled up at Crowley. “Well, then. I suppose having faith is perfectly proper for an angel.”

“’Course it is.” Crowley cradled his cheek, brushed a kiss to his brow. “And so is love.”

“It is indeed.” Eyes full of wonder, Aziraphale stroked a hand along his jawline. “I love you, Crowley. Please remember that.”

There was no possible way he could forget. Not Aziraphale’s words, not the joining of their bodies and minds, not the sheer rightness of being together. “I will. And I love you too, Aziraphale. Always.”

Crowley drew Aziraphale closer and kissed him. Memorizing the feel of his lips, the touch of his hands, the warmth of his presence. They would be off on separate missions again soon, resuming their lives, often kept apart by their natures.

But they would always have these memories, the knowledge of shared love. And in a world where an angel and a demon could fall in love, anything was possible. Even a future together.

Back to Gift 1

Comments

Gentle wishes long subdued

[(Anonymous)]

Oh my! This is just so sweet and lovely! The mutual pining in London, feeling all that love and then catching themselves up when they remember they can’t be together. Their time in London was so nicely done, as was the decision to travel together. Crowley’s horse was a perfect example of the kind of experience with horses I always imagined he would have, poor soul. I adore Crowley rescuing Aziraphale and the idea that sometimes the angel ends up in bad situations because people think he is suspicious when he is doing his assignments. I loved your decision to have Horatio be just a nice old chap with an interest in occult antiquities and the fact that he and his lover Philip were a wonderful mirror of Aziraphale and Crowley and the dynamic of their relationship. Oh their time together was so beautiful and sweet. All the love and longing and consummation of their love in sweet lovemaking. I adored it. Thank you again for fulfilling every aspect of my prompt and featuring all the cute stuff that I like best. You definitely hit the spot.
Thank you generally for your generosity and kindness in writing these beautiful stories for me. I absolutely love them. Have a wonderful holiday season when it comes. HolRose <3 <3 <3

[kingstoken]

This is so soft and sweet! The pining and the tension in the beginning was **chef's kiss**, and when they finally got together it was so beautiful, and the smut was incredibly well done. And even though it was a little bittersweet near the end I loved that you ended it on a hopeful note.

Thank you!

[holrose]

Thank you again Edo for this lovely gift. I loved them all <3