Happy Holidays, The Ineffable Zephyr!
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For Love or Teacups
By Anonymous
Rating: E
Summary: Together again after the failed Second Coming and healed of most of their trauma, Aziraphale and Crowley buy a cottage in the South Downs to retire to. But after living alone for several thousand years, sharing space will be challenging. Neither knew that living with your partner meant living with all her annoying little habits. Or that makeup sex could be so satisfying.
~*~*~
Buying the cottage had been easy. It was the living together part that presented Crowley with a challenge. They said true love never died, but nobody ever said happily ever after meant learning to live with all your partner’s little quirks. If you had resided alone for thousands of years, accepting another person with all their faults in your space was more of a challenge. Suddenly, you lived not only with your loving partner, but with every single annoying trait you never knew they had.
Crowley gritted her teeth when she found the six hundredth teacup in the living room, a small amount of tea and one dead fly floating in the bottom. At least drowned flies weren’t too common, but the teacups often contained everything from a few soggy dregs to a quarter cup of undrunk, stone-cold tea. In Crowley’s opinion, it was disgusting. She did not want to deal with it daily when Aziraphale wandered away from her reading, forgetting about the teacup on the side table.
Crowley snatched it up, muttering under her breath, to carry with an angry stomp to the kitchen, where she dumped the dregs and the fly down the drain. The cup went in the dishwasher, which she had insisted they install the minute they moved into the cottage. Doing the washing up by hand was not on Crowley’s list of ways to spend her retirement. The cup and any other dishes placed in the dishwasher would come out clean in the morning, despite the dishwasher not being hooked up to the plumbing.
That didn’t mean Crowley wanted to be picking up after an absent-minded angel, even if she did madly adore said absent-minded angel with all her demonic heart.
Crowley marched out of the kitchen through the doorway to the conservatory and out the back door into the gardens she'd lovingly brought back to life in the years since they bought this place. The gardens had languished when the cottage’s former owner grew too old and frail to care for them. Crowley would keep them beautiful until the Earth’s last day.
At least that weight was off their shoulders. There would be no more attempts by Heaven and Hell to bring about the Earth’s demise. It had been made clear that the Ineffable Plan did not include angels or demons deciding when that event would occur. Now, it was all up to the Almighty, who didn’t seem to be in any hurry to bring about Armageddon.
They had breathing space, and it had been wonderful. The first few years, they had spent healing their major wounds, leaning on each other when the bad times hit. Having a loving, understanding shoulder to cry on when the tumultuous emotions hit made all the difference. It enabled them to forgive, forget, then move on.
Neither of them thought sharing space would come with its own problems, but here they were, facing another proverbial bump in the road of their relationship. While these concerns were simply the type of issues that came with co-habituating with a partner, it proved difficult for Aziraphale and Crowley. Their species barely formed friendships, let alone anything more serious. There wasn’t much foundation to draw on when everyone kept everyone else at arm’s length. Romantic love was not a concept known outside of Earth.
But Crowley and Aziraphale had developed an understanding of love, even though they were outsiders peering in at a human emotion that took them ages to see in themselves. The two thought they had it all figured out, but living together proved a whole new level to this thing called love. It wasn’t long before the two found themselves out of their depth of understanding, despite their close bond.
You couldn’t escape someone’s annoying little habits when you shared a cottage, even if your modus operandi was to flee from conflict. Crowley was used to having the entire world between her and the annoyances of Hell. That didn’t quite work here.
Crowley’s anger bubbled over just thinking about that stupid teacup. Was it that hard for Aziraphale to remember to take her dirty cup to the dishwasher? How fully could you lose yourself in a book that you forgot you were enjoying a nice cuppa? Especially when Aziraphale so loved a good cup of tea or cocoa.
The cup taken care of, Crowley squinted out the kitchen window upon the back garden. She had filled it with various plant beds. Some grew carefully cultivated rose bushes while others were wilder plots showcasing native plants. She had placed the vegetable gardens in the back by the small orchard of pear, plum and apple trees. There were plans to add a peach tree, difficult to grow in England but possible here in the south.
The hellebores needed weeding. She had neglected them recently since they were an early spring bloomer. Now, they just provided a green border for a handful of flower beds. A few pieces of crabgrass poked up here and there between the foliage; thin, tall, light green leaves sticking up between the darker, bushier greenery of each hellebore.
Crowley knelt on the grass and plunged her hand into the flowers, ripping out weed after weed. She didn’t notice when her fingers accidentally grabbed a leaf or two of wanted vegetation. Eventually, enough piled up that her mistake drew her attention. An irritated wave of a hand restored the hellebores to their previous state.
She let out a frustrated breath as she picked up the culled weeds off the lawn. Their bruised stems smelled of cut grass, a testament to the force she used to pull them out of the ground. Still, weeding wasn’t helping her mood any. She needed to speak to Aziraphale.
She threw the weeds in the compost over by the greenhouse and searched the property for Aziraphale, checking in the greenhouse itself. Sometimes, Aziraphale came in here to enjoy the colourful blooms and help by deadheading the spent flowers, removing their brown husks so new ones could grow. Crowley’s gardening tools lay in a neat row beside a stack of unused pots on a planting bench inside the door, everything handy for replanting. Tropical plants too tender for England’s cooler climate filled the remaining space. Otherwise, it was empty. Aziraphale was not out caring for the plants today.
Nor was she in the orchard, checking on the fruit that grew on the loaded trees. They would have to be thinned soon, or Crowley would have to prop up branches with wooden stakes.
Well, Aziraphale must be reading again on the front porch. It was the one place left to check. Besides, it was early afternoon and the old, sun-faded awning over it provided shade on these cloudless days. Aziraphale was lucky there was enough room for a couple of chairs and a small table. The tiny space was meant more for curb appeal than actual use.
“Aziraphale!” growled Crowley, her long stride taking her up the steps to the cosy wooden chairs covered with thick, weatherproof golden beige cushions and a few throw pillows in shades of light blue.
Aziraphale had curled up in one with an old book, wearing a light blue sundress with white polka dots in a style commonly seen in the 1950s. It was sleeveless; the straps of the bodice tied in a bow at the nape of her neck. She would have never worn such a revealing dress in London. There, she stuck to mid-length tartan skirts paired with blue or white button-downs, sleeves never rolled up in public, and her trusty beige waistcoat with its threadbare patches around the buttons.
Aziraphale looked up from her book. “Is something wrong, my dear?”
“Another teacup, Aziraphale,” said Crowley. “This time with a fly in it. You can’t keep leaving them around. They’re going to keep attracting pests. I don’t want a house full of bugs. Dealing with Beelzebub’s little pets when I had to report to Hell was bad enough.”
Crowley didn’t like flies. She didn’t like how they buzzed around in your business, always watching you. She didn’t like the sensation of being dragged down to Hell via a swarm of them when Beelzebub wanted an audience with her. It made her skin crawl to this day even though it would never happen again.
“My dear, it’s one teacup.” Aziraphale smiled like she was guilty of this infraction for the first time.
Crowley lost it, sick to death of this excuse. Aziraphale repeated it every time Crowley brought the issue to her attention as if parroting it to Crowley at every opportunity would eventually get Crowley to believe it. Crowley bared her teeth in frustration. They were teacups! Remembering to take them to the kitchen wasn’t that difficult.
“One teacup from this morning. I’ll find another tonight. Another tomorrow after breakfast. Maybe one out on the patio table after tea. See where I’m going here? If I didn’t pick them up, we’d be drowning in dirty teacups. It’s ridiculous, Aziraphale.”
Aziraphale shut down, her smile fading into a tight, thin line as she looked coolly at her partner. “I apologise. I was not aware that drinking tea so inconvenienced you. How dare I enjoy indulging in a little ritual now and again.”
Crowley tipped her head back in frustration for a moment before speaking again. “Oh, don’t start with that again. You’re not some kind of martyr because you enjoy tea!”
Aziraphale huffed, closed her book, stood up and swept past Crowley into the cottage, slamming the door behind her. Surprised, Crowley stared after the colourful wreath of blue hydrangeas, white roses and silvery green eucalyptus that hung on the door. It quivered with the force of the slam.
Crowley shook her head before walking towards the garage. The Bentley could use a good wash. It had been dry the last few weeks, and the winds blew around dust that quickly coated her in a light covering of dirt.
~*~*~
By morning, everything was back to normal. Aziraphale awoke first, her head nestled on Crowley’s chest against the soft silk of Crowley’s nightgown. She reached up to place a tender kiss on Crowley’s sharp cheekbone and got a soft moan in response along with a clumsy pat on the back. It would be a while before Crowley attained full consciousness.
“Good morning, my dear.”
“Uhhh…mornin’, angel.”
It was the most Aziraphale would get for a while, but it still was enough. The status quo had returned after an emotionally tense evening yesterday.
“I am going to get up and run errands. We are out of bread and milk. Is there anything else you can think of that we need?”
Crowley replied with an unintelligible groan. Aziraphale didn’t press her for a more understandable answer, knowing she wouldn’t receive it. Instead, she got herself ready for the day, breakfast comprising of some porridge sprinkled with red, ripe raspberries from the bushes in the back garden.
Aziraphale should have kept a better eye on their supplies. But it was different here than back in London. At the bookshop, all Aziraphale had was the bare bones of a kitchenette, which wasn’t really for actual cooking. The cottage boasted a large kitchen where she could do more than just heat water for tea and cocoa.
After breakfast, she slipped out to the garage and coaxed the Bentley into taking her into town for supplies. The car could be moody and didn’t always allow Aziraphale to drive her. As much as she adored Aziraphale, the Bentley still was Crowley’s baby, and neither love nor money would pry her from the garage if she didn’t feel up to being driven by another.
The village was pleasant, part of the charm of moving out here. Aziraphale enjoyed getting out every once in a while to look around and converse with the locals. A few of the shopkeepers were getting to know her after nearly six months here, Crowley, less so, but she was more aloof towards individual humans than Aziraphale was.
Aziraphale bought the needed bread and milk, adding to her list a few other delicious items that caught her eye, like the chocolate-frosted sponge cake. Next, she ducked into the local coffee shop for a cappuccino. Several people stopped by her table for some small talk, much to Aziraphale’s delight. She spent a couple of hours getting to know a few more of the humans who lived in this quaint little village before driving the Bentley back home.
The Bentley parked carefully back in the garage, Aziraphale walked up the cobblestone path lined on either side with purple and white pansies planted in front of English roses with large pale yellow blooms. It made the path cheerful. The more unusual but less welcoming black pansies decorated the back garden.
Happily humming an off-tune concerto, Aziraphale entered through the conservatory. Crowley kept tropical houseplants on the three sides with windows. The wall against the kitchen had a built-in bench covered with cosy cushions. Aziraphale read out here during the winter when the warmth was welcome. Often, Crowley was out with her, and the two spent many sunny afternoons together in that room, one with a book and the other caring for the plants.
When she put away the few extras she picked up with the milk and bread, she found the spices alphabetised rather than sorted by what they used more frequently. Crowley had been organising again, but as unhelpful as it was, Aziraphale felt that bringing it up wasn’t a good use of constructive criticism, especially since they had squabbled recently.
Her opinion changed when she entered the living room and nearly barked her shin on a table which suddenly appeared in the pathway from the kitchen doorway to the cluster of sofas and chairs in the living room proper.
"Ow! What the…?” she looked down at the table, then up at the surrounding furniture. The entire living room had been moved about a metre towards the kitchen to accommodate larger pots by the window. When Aziraphale had left this morning, only a couple of shelves holding plants and a large pot with the monstera Crowley grew from a tiny seedling had been over there. Now, a parlour palm that wasn’t looking as green as it should and something that resembled a ficus had joined them.
“Careful, angel.” Crowley looked over at Aziraphale from the sofa, where she sprawled across two cushions, streaming something on the television. “You all right?”
Aziraphale bit her lip against the pain in her shin, a quick miracle curing it before she replied. “Now I am,” she said sarcastically. “Why are you moving the furniture? Don’t we have enough plants in here?”
“The ficus was outgrowing the greenhouse, and the palm’s not doing well in the north window of the second bedroom. I had to move them.”
“You could have warned me!”
“Sorry. I didn’t know you were coming home yet,” said Crowley. “You usually spend all day in town.”
Aziraphale pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers. “You didn’t hear the door? Or me putting groceries away?”
“Not over the sound system. And you didn’t yell out you were home, either. I would have warned you about the living room.”
“Oh, don’t put that ball in my court,” Aziraphale snapped. “You’re the one who moved the furniture.”
She stormed off to spend the rest of the night reading in the library, still angry enough around midnight when she heard Crowley head to their bedroom. A frown crossed Aziraphale’s face when she heard the bedroom door close behind her partner. Crowley could sleep alone tonight because Aziraphale wasn’t in the mood to be around her. Why couldn’t Crowley leave the furniture well enough alone? It wasn’t like there weren’t other east-facing windows in the house where the palm could go. Or an entire room devoted to plants, for that matter.
In the morning, Aziraphale would move the two offending plants into the conservatory, then put the furniture back where it belonged. She wasn’t about to bark her shins on a table every time she exited the kitchen. Crowley could learn to rein in her plant obsession.
~*~*~
The next morning, Crowley sat alone at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee, her fingers tapping against the ceramic. She looked up with a forced smile when Aziraphale entered with a cheery greeting like they hadn’t argued the day before.
“Morning, my dear.” Aziraphale headed for the kettle like she did every morning before she started breakfast. “Do you mind if we move that table so I’m not constantly walking into it? Or maybe get a smaller one to put over there. I know you like to put your drink on it when we watch films.”
“You’re…you’re not mad at me?” asked Crowley timidly, as if this peace between them was a fragile thing that might shatter with the wrong question.
“No.” Aziraphale filled the kettle, then set it back on its base to heat. “I am making a nice frittata…well, more like scrambled eggs with vegetables since I do not want to wait the extra time for it to bake. Do you want some?”
“No, I’m good with my coffee here, thanks.” Crowley tapped her mug again, her fingernails ringing against its hard surface. “Look, I’m sorry for rearranging things without saying something first. And I shouldn’t have got upset over the teacups.”
Aziraphale stopped her rummaging through the fridge and turned around, a couple of tomatoes balanced in one hand. “It’s obvious you needed the space for the plants. I shouldn’t have become angry like I did. I allowed the embarrassment of running into the table to get the best of me.”
Crowley bit her lip, turning away. “I worry we’ll start arguing too much, then what?”
Aziraphale abandoned the tomatoes on the butcher block worktop, crossing the kitchen to sit next to Crowley, concern shining in her sky-blue eyes. She coaxed one of Crowley’s hands away from the coffee mug and held it between hers. “We’re going through some growing pains, that is all. Neither of us has lived with another person before. We are used to our own spaces. Now, we have to compromise.”
“But we’re just acting like everything’s back to normal. Shouldn’t we be communicating? I mean, we got through all our shit and now know how to handle a major problem…if one should arise, that is. But we never discussed the minor ones.”
They'd spent a full decade healing from the whole separation trauma and figuring out how to have a healthy relationship with proper communication before they dared consider even moving in together. Crowley thought they had it all worked out, but just maybe they didn’t.
“Well, disagreements are going to happen. No relationship is perfect. Nobody completely checks off all the boxes on another’s list…just enough to make them compatible.” Aziraphale brought Crowley’s hand up to her lips and kissed it softly. “I owe you an apology for getting angry over picking up my teacups. I’m sorry, my dear. If we need to discuss minor problems, then let’s discuss minor problems.”
“Like that?”
“Yes, like that.”
Crowley blinked. She didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t this. She expected pushback for bringing up their quibbles since they never amounted to real hard feelings between the two, yet here Aziraphale was, offering suggestions.
“Okay. Um, can you please remember to pick up your teacups? You know how I like a clean house. And…and I have no problem getting a different table for the living room. I’d like one that matches. Hmm, it might be easier just to use a miracle to shrink it a little. How about that?”
“That sounds like a great compromise. You get your clean house. I don’t have to constantly heal bruises on my shins.” Aziraphale gave Crowley her brightest smile, the one that always melted Crowley’s heart like the last bit of snow on a warm spring day. “I have just one more request.”
Crowley cocked her head slightly to one side. “Oh? And what’s that?”
Aziraphale rose from her chair and leaned in close to Crowley’s ear. “I hear makeup sex is quite the thing. Also, I was thinking the shower would be the perfect place.”
Crowley pulled back to fix Aziraphale with a gaze sparkling with mischief. “Why, you little minx. Let me put my mug away, then I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”
She’d heard shower sex was closer to Dante’s Inferno than Paradiso, but if Aziraphale wanted to try it, dammit, Crowley would use all the miracles in her power to make it work.
~*~*~
Crowley’s black satin nightgown lay across the chair to the small vanity in the corner. Aziraphale took the time to hang her dressing gown and pyjamas on the hook of the bathroom door. There hadn’t been an en-suite bathroom when they purchased the cottage, but one had popped into existence when Crowley decided she’d rather not walk down the hall every morning to bathe.
Steam seeped from the bathroom, wafting through the barely cracked door into the bedroom. Aziraphale would have protested the moisture beading on the antique wooden wardrobe, but she wasn’t around to shut the door before water stains appeared on the finish. She was part of the problem.
In their big, beautiful walk-in marble shower with the rain showerhead pouring down over them, Aziraphale and Crowley practically melded into one supernatural being. Aziraphale held Crowley tight against her, Crowley’s sharp shoulder blades pressing into Aziraphale's ample bosom. One of Aziraphale’s arms held her partner in place while the other played around below the waist as Crowley squirmed, moaned, begged and thrust against Aziraphale’s fingers.
“There you go, my darling. Just enjoy it.”
Pleased with herself, Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s bare neck, having pushed her long, red hair to one side during foreplay before the water plastered it to Crowley’s back. She needed space to work, after all. Nobody liked hair in their mouth while they nibbled their way down their partner’s body. Aziraphale could feel the cords in Crowley’s neck tighten as she gently sunk her teeth into the soft skin.
Crowley’s breath came ragged and raspy. She had one arm draped around the back of Aziraphale’s neck and the other hung at her side, hand clenching as Aziraphale built up Crowley’s sexual desire into a pleasurable tease, keeping the tension high until just the right moment.
“Oh fuck, angel.”
Crowley’s hand inched backwards, creeping towards the triangle between Aziraphale’s sumptuous thighs. She sought to return some of the pleasure she felt, even in the awkward space of the shower. Even enlarged, its very nature made sex a challenge between slippery tile, the lack of handholds and lube that kept washing away.
The tingle of a minor miracle passed through Aziraphale as Crowley slipped a finger between her labia, seeking Aziraphale’s clit to stroke the hood as Aziraphale stroked hers. A warm, tingling feeling shot through Aziraphale, racing from between her thighs up through the rest of her body. She felt her nipples harden and a moan leave her mouth. Her own finger, still between Crowley’s legs stroking Crowley’s most erogenous parts, stopped moving for a second.
Crowley pressed harder against Aziraphale’s back, her shoulder blades digging into just the right areas, rubbing up and down against Aziraphale’s sensitive nipples. Oh, it felt wonderful, like a nice prelude to what excitement was in store. And Crowley called her a minx! That demon knew exactly what she was doing.
“What about kissing?” Crowley’s question came out between pants, breathy and staccato. She ground just a little harder against Aziraphale’s fingers, as if determined to get an orgasm out of this bit of warm-up fun. They hadn’t even got to the good part yet.
“Do you need more?” whispered Aziraphale in her ear. “I am not stopping you from turning around and getting more.”
“Yes.”
Crowley whirled more quickly than Aziraphale thought possible in this hazardous environment, pinning her against the cool, wet marble wall behind them. A hungry mouth fastened over her own, kissing her passionately. She closed her eyes and kissed Crowley back, pressing her lips against her demon’s with a sudden need.
What was it about kissing that made it more intimate than actual intercourse? Aziraphale didn’t know and soon stopped pondering it. More exciting things than ruminating were going on under the warm spray of the showerhead. Aziraphale shivered with delight when Crowley slipped a finger into her to explore while giving her clit a bit of a break. Aziraphale could stay like this with Crowley until the stars in the sky went cold.
“We should both be able to rub at the same time, don’t you think?” asked Crowley, serpentine eyes seductively half-lidded. “Stay there.”
She snapped her fingers to adjust the showerhead. Their sudden position change left them somewhat outside its range. A non-slip mat also appeared beneath them, askew over the drain, but, somehow not blocking the water’s flow down it.
A lecherous grin spreading across her face, Crowley raised a long leg and pressed her knee against the wall beside Aziraphale’s hip. Aziraphale’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. Crowley simply hopped on one foot twice to adjust herself, arranging her body so she could rub lustily against Aziraphale’s plump thigh at her own pleasure.
“Oof, just a moment…I’m going to need a pad. The marble’s harder than I thought.” One miraculously appeared, a nice grey one that adhered to the wall of its own accord. “There. That’s a lot more comfortable. Now…where were we? Oh, yes. The middle of a little carnal pleasure. Here, let me adjust one more time.”
Crowley pressed the leg she stood on directly in between Aziraphale’s thighs and rubbed with a strange twist of her hips. They moved with a fluid rolling motion that seemed impossible for a human body, but Crowley never played by the rules, even with joints. Aziraphale did not care one bit, especially when she benefitted from it. The motion transported her to a little pleasure-filled world of her own, the grinding against her clit filling every cell in her body with the physical manifestation of Crowley’s love. She pressed down harder, greedy for more, her fingernails biting into Crowley’s upper back.
Crowley hissed slightly in pain, but she said nothing. She would know that Aziraphale meant nothing by it, being in the throes of passion. After hearing it, Aziraphale surfaced enough to let up. She uncurled her fingers, pressing the tips instead of the nails against Crowley’s bare skin.
“Oh, angel… Is this as good for you as it is for me?”
“Yes, my dear, it is.”
Aziraphale opened her eyes to see the droplets dripping down Crowley’s face and examined the look of ecstasy on her demon’s face. Crowley’s serpentine eyes were closed and her mouth opened slightly as she moaned in rhythm with the rocking of her hips. That impossible twist that provided Aziraphale pleasure when Crowley rocked one direction and herself pleasure when she rocked the other. Clever, clever demon with her improbable joints and bendy skeleton. Aziraphale was grateful to reap the benefits.
She rode it as long as she could, eagerly eating up the beautiful sensations of this shared experience. When her clit finally reached its pleasure limits, she let out a little plaintive cry, not ready for release just yet. She eased up on her own rocking, taking pressure enough pressure off her own clit that she reckoned she could hold on a little longer.
“No shame in letting go,” said Crowley between short pants. “You deserve it.”
“And so do you,” gasped Aziraphale in reply. “Yet…yet…I do not hear you climaxing.”
She felt Crowley grind harder, a moan escaping the lower lip Crowley bit with one small fang. It was the moan she let out just before she physically reached the point of no return. Aziraphale knew that lovely little groan very well by now.
She nearly laughed, despite herself. “You minx.”
Crowley did not respond but worked her magic on Aziraphale, coaxing her closer to orgasm, inviting her to climax at the same moment. Aziraphale couldn’t disappoint her and let herself go, throwing back her head and allowing her voice to echo through the shower in unison with Crowley’s. They clung to each other like two beings desperate to remain lovingly interlocked for eternity.
But Aziraphale couldn’t hold on forever; her muscles weakened by her physical exertion and the endorphins from orgasm rushing through her brain. She found she was on her tiptoes only when she dropped onto her heels with a small grunt. When had she risen off the shower floor to balance on the balls of her feet?
Crowley slid out of her arms onto the shower floor, her red hair hanging in wet locks before her face. Aziraphale sucked in a breath and knelt swiftly beside Crowley, her hands going to Crowley’s thighs to feel for muscle cramps, fatigue or anything else that would have caused Crowley's knees to buckle.
Crowley looked up with a tired smile. “I guess I’m not as athletic as I thought. It’s just some cramping. Nothing serious. Give me a moment.”
Aziraphale would not. She took care of her own muscle fatigue and summoned a fluffy towel from the towel bar to herself. She wrapped Crowley in it, then lifted her onto the corner seat in the shower they normally used to hold various hair care and bath products. Those bottles now found themselves on the counter by the sink.
“My poor, sweet demon.” Aziraphale gave Crowley a soft kiss on the forehead.
“I’ll be fine. It’s no big deal.”
“Of course you will be, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve some pampering after such a wonderful performance.” Aziraphale vigorously rubbed Crowley’s hair with another conjured bath towel. “Let’s get you dry and in bed, then I can make you a cup of tea.”
“But…” said Crowley through chattering teeth.
“No buts. Just allow me this indulgence. You need some warming up, and tea will help.”
Crowley may not have been a snake for six thousand years, yet certain characteristics stayed with her – her serpentine eyes, the sexy acrobatics she could do with her tongue and a touch of cold-bloodedness that never truly disappeared. Even in the middle of summer, she’d become chilled enough to require some warming up.
Crowley nodded but didn’t say another word about it while Aziraphale fussed over her.
~*~*~
Crowley found herself dressed in pyjamas in a pretty shade of light blue that she would have never chosen to wear. Aziraphale bundled her into bed under a soft blanket of grey tartan, a compromise when picking out linens. The efforts to warm her were a bit much, but if it made Aziraphale happy, it made Crowley happy.
Speaking of Aziraphale, she had just entered the bedroom humming, carrying a tray laden with all requirements for tea for two. The small writing desk in the corner served as a place to prepare everything before Aziraphale presented Crowley with a cup, then set the other on the nightstand beside her own side of the bed.
“Now, how’s that?” she asked as she settled in beside Crowley. “I debated some shortbread, but not only is it not the right time of day for that, I figured you wouldn’t enjoy crumbs in the bed.”
“Yeah, just some tea’s fine,” said Crowley, sipping at it. “Thank you, angel.”
After collapsing onto the chilly shower floor, the warm liquid was just what she needed to warm her. In times like this, Aziraphale knew what she needed better than she did herself. She leaned against Aziraphale to enjoy a little external warmth as well.
Afterwards, they vanished their empty cups to the kitchen and settled in for a few cuddles before they rose for breakfast, take two. Together they cooked Aziraphale’s proposed dish of scrambled eggs with vegetables grown in their garden. Crowley chopped everything into bite-sized pieces while Aziraphale cooked it to perfection. All the while they talked and laughed, the conversation easy, the occasional touches coming naturally to both angel and demon.
Afterwards, Aziraphale headed to the living room to read the local newspaper while Crowley took the eggshells and vegetable scraps to the compost pile. As Aziraphale walked out of the kitchen, Crowley called after her, and she turned towards Crowley with her nose scrunched up in a puzzled expression.
“I just wanted to remind you to put your teacup in the dishwasher when you’re done,” said Crowley.
Aziraphale nodded with a smile. “Don’t worry, I will.”
“Thanks,” said Crowley. “I’ll be right in as soon as I get this done.”
Yeah, thought Crowley. They could learn to communicate better about all the petty annoyances sharing space brought. It didn’t all have to devolve into catty comments and petty arguments. Her spirits lifted as she realised this. After all, they had gone through trial by fire more than once in their long lives. Teacups and furniture placement should be no problem. Although, maybe there was something to be said about a mild disagreement now and again. The makeup sex was more than worth it.
Lovely!
Date: 2024-12-06 12:17 pm (UTC)Yay! Your giftee is thrilled!
Date: 2024-12-06 03:20 pm (UTC)Omg I’m so delighted by this from the get-go! I love Ineffable Wives content (there can never be enough, imo). And in my own home, I am totally Crowley picking up teacups after my beloved of multiple decades, so I’m cracking up from the start. Wish I could always have a dishwasher that didn’t need plumbing—what a convenience!
Re: her gardens: “Crowley would keep them beautiful until the Earth’s last day.” —awwww! Love this commitment and also assuredness that the earth will continue. That must be such a great relief for her.
“The first few years, they had spent healing their major wounds, leaning on each other when the bad times hit. Having a loving, understanding shoulder to cry on when the tumultuous emotions hit made all the difference.” —I love this brief, tender description of them healing by being there for each other and sharing their emotions. That’s what they really needed.
Love the descriptions of Crowley’s garden and how she uses it to escape her frustrations.
Oh yes, makes sense the fly would be a symbol of something bigger and more visceral for Crowley.
“As much as she adored Aziraphale, the Bentley still was Crowley’s baby, and neither love nor money would pry her from the garage if she didn’t feel up to being driven by another.” —haha perfect!
“What was it about kissing that made it more intimate than actual intercourse? Aziraphale didn’t know and soon stopped pondering it. More exciting things than ruminating were going on under the warm spray of the showerhead. Aziraphale shivered with delight when Crowley slipped a finger into her to explore while giving her clit a bit of a break. Aziraphale could stay like this with Crowley until the stars in the sky went cold.” —awww! Kissing IS particularly great and I love how you write them taking care of each other in this way, thoroughly distracting each other so they can’t even ponder how nice it is.
Those miracles in the shower sure are handy… ;)
“…but Crowley never played by the rules, even with joints” — Haha! I nominate this for Top Ten Crowley lines ever written. Marvelous!
This was all so hot and tender. Love the way they take care of each other’s needs.
Aww the aftercare is so sweet. Crowley in pale blue pajamas is a wonderful image. Funny that they miracle away the tea set from the bedroom but that’s not a solution for Aziraphale leaving her teacups.
You just really captured the frustrating complications of living with your long term partner. It’s so sweet to see them navigating that and coming together (hehe) in their abiding love.
The domesticity was off the charts and I’m here for it! You really went above and beyond. Thank you so much for this perfect gift! I’m all heart eyes over this and I know I will be returning to this as a comfort fic many times.
-Zephyr
Re: Yay! Your giftee is thrilled!
Date: 2024-12-09 12:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-12-07 12:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-12-07 07:29 pm (UTC)