Chapter Text
Crowley stretched out on the sofa in front of the fire feeling well-pleased with himself. He was one lucky demon! He hadn't heard a peep from Hell in the last four months since Aziraphale had tendered his resignation for him. Now he was free to commit whatever mischief… or blessings… he felt inspired, and without any infernal paperwork to fill out after. His Bentley purred along the streets better than ever, without a hint she had once exploded into flames. Best of all, he and Aziraphale had moved into the perfect cottage in South Downs just two months ago. He had a garden, now well prepared for the winter, and a conservatory to keep the new plants growing and waiting for Spring to come back around.
Yep. He had everything he wanted. Well. Almost everything. Despite his optimistic hopes when Aziraphale had suggested finding a home for them both, his romantic relationship with the angel continued at a glacial pace. Aziraphale would occasionally take his arm while they walked. But there was no hand holding or kissing, much less anything more intimate.
Maybe Aziraphale wasn't into that. Seemed odd given his proclivity for other pleasures of the flesh, but one never knew. As long as he got to spend his days with the blond fuss-budget, hope remained and life was infinitely better than even a few years back.
Speaking of the angel, where was he? The kitchen was silent, so maybe the library? Aziraphale oft times got lost there, trying to choose which book he wanted next. Now that he didn't have to pretend to sell his treasures, he was rather like a dragon exalting over his piles of gold. With a grin, Crowley stretched himself up to his version of standing, tucked his mobile in his jacket pocket, and sauntered up the stairs in search of an angel to annoy. Or feed. Maybe both, if he were lucky.
He poked his head in, and sure enough, Aziraphale was tucked in his favorite armchair; tiny, round glasses perched on his upturned nose, a thin volume in his lap, and a stack ten books high at his feet. He walked in quietly, circling round the chair to look over the angel's broad shoulder.
"Whatcha reading, Aziraphale?" he inquired loudly, just a few centimeters from Aziraphale's ear. To his amusement, the blond startled and almost dropped his book.
"Crowley! Really, my dear, I…." The angel had started to turn to fuss at him, but his words died out as he realized how close their lips were. A pink tongue snuck out and licked a plush bottom lip. Crowley watched, entranced. He couldn't have blinked to save himself if he wanted.
Aziraphale's eyes seemed equally focused on Crowley's mouth. Was this it? Finally? Would he finally get to kiss the angel he'd been longing after for millennia?
But of fucking course not. Aziraphale blinked and dropped the book, breaking the spell holding them both.
"Oh, no!" he cried, bending down to retrieve his treasure and straightened with a condemning stare. He moved over to the far corner of the chair, as apart from Crowley as he could manage without outright leaving. "Just look what you made me do, fiend! Now the corner of this page is bent!"
Crowley pouted and ran a finger down the offending page, fixing it good as new. Old. Putting it back as it had been.
Normally, the angel would have blushed and stammered his thanks. But Crowley left his hand on the book in Aziraphale's lap, and the blond seemed transfixed, staring as if he had never noticed Crowley's hands before.
"Your hands are so lovely, my dear," he said softly as he continued to stare. "Your fingers are so long and elegant."
Before he could stop himself, "That's what she said!" popped out of his smart aleck mouth. Aziraphale rolled his ocean blue eyes, and the spell was broken. Again.
"I'm sure she has quite a lot to say about your long and elegant corporation," Aziraphale sniffed, "but I intend to finish A Christmas Carol this morning and have no time to listen to tales of your love life. Why don't you head into town? I am almost out of cocoa. Perhaps you'll get lucky and add another notch to your proverbial bedpost!"
Crowley sputtered as he tried to come back with a suitably snarky retort. But he finally gave up and settled for the truth. Because it was important to him that Aziraphale knew.
"For the record, there are exactly zero notches on my bedpost. Been waiting for the right being to get off his glacerial arse. But you're right. Think I'll head into town and get in some temptations for the last-minute shoppers. Sow a little chaos while you spend some time with the Ghosts."
Before Aziraphale could do more than gasp, Crowley sauntered out, adding an extra angry sway to his hips and letting his boots speak loudly for him as he crossed the wooden floor. Might have let the door slam just a bit, too, letting the angel know he was gone.
Crowley sulked around town for a bit. He sowed discord in the queues, moving people's cards from their purses to their pockets. When a boy sneakily pushed his sister, he had a bin of balls fall and bounce all around him, earning him a fierce scolding from his mother.
But his heart just wasn't in it. He hadn't meant to, but he had upset Aziraphale. And then he had told the truth about his lack of experience! Shit, he hoped Aziraphale had taken that as demonic prevarication. He'd have to find a way to make it up to the angel without admitting to any blame in the squabble. Stupid angel with his stupid books and stupid curly hair and soft looking lips and graspable thighs and plump arse just begging to be bit and….
He snarled at himself, startling several nearby townsfolk as a pleasant side effect. Right. Stop mooning over the blessed angel and find something to get him back in his good graces. That arse was never getting bit if Aziraphale was cross with him.
He grumbled down the streets, angry with himself and completely out of sorts. Then he stopped shirt as a storefront window display caught his eye. He spent several minutes looking it over, a slow grin replacing his previous frown. It was perfect!
He went in and asked for the complete set to be carefully boxed up in a bowed top steamer trunk that mysteriously appeared for sale in the back of the shop. He paid for both, including a hefty bonus for the clerk that took such good care of his purchase. Bringing the Bentley around to the front of the store took just a few minutes, and he sped off with the trunk in the Bentley's boot. Two more stops (he wouldn't dare forget Aziraphale's favourite brand of cocoa!) and he'd be ready to knock the tartan socks off his angel, garters and all!
Returning from town, trunk in tow, Crowley was greeted by the scent of fresh baked goodies, rich with cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg. He smiled. Aziraphale knew he didn't care much for most sweets, but was very fond of gingerbread. He enjoyed the bite the ginger gave it. Looked like he wasn't the only one trying to make up for their spat
"Hey, Angel! I'm home!" he called out.
"In the kitchen, dear boy," called the voice he loved best. "I have a surprise for you. Get a wiggle on, please! Oh. And don't forget to shake off the snow and hang your coat first."
"I have a surprise, too," he called. Just one more thing to bring in and I'll come bother you." He set the trunk against the wall so he didn't track in any of the wet. Then he went and retrieved the second part of his gift.
"Wiggle on," he muttered, shaking his head as he knocked the snow off his boots and obediently hung up his coat on the tree in the foyer. How could he be so in love with a being who persisted in using such outdated language?
He brought the small tree in from the foyer, and set it near the fireplace in the living room. He put it on Aziraphale's side of the room, near the armchair that had once lived in the back room of the bookshop. With a satisfied smile, he moved the trunk next to it, and headed to the kitchen with the tin of cocoa in hand.
Aziraphale was pulling a pan of gingerbread men from the oven when he walked in. If he hung back in the doorway to admire the angel's delectable tush, well, that was nobody else's business, now was it?
But then, Aziraphale straightened and turned around. His whole face changed when he spotted Crowley, beaming brighter than the summer sun. "Crowley!" he said, rolling the syllables around like rich, buttery caramel. How the fuck could he stay mad at him when Aziraphale made his name sound so tempting?
"Hey, Angel," he said with a grin, "making any burnt offerings?"
"Absolutely not, you menace!" Aziraphale said with a huff. "Although I was hoping you'd help me decorate when they cool off. Only… only, this time, no penises on the gingerbread men, please! Or vulvas either, for that matter."
Crowley pouted. "Oh, you're no fun." He got it out with a straight face, but remembering Aziraphale's outraged look the last time he had "helped" decorate had him chortling with glee. The angel rolled his eyes as he set the tray down to cool, but the twitch at the side of his mouth gave away his own amusement at the memory.
"While they cool, come see what I found in town, Aziraphale," he said when he stopped laughing and caught his breath. He put the tin of cocoa down with a flourish and nodded towards the living room. With another beamy smile, the most beautiful creature on Earth took off his apron, leaving him in just his shirt sleeves, bow tie, and waistcoat. His baby blue sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the kitchen lights caught the hairs, glinting gold. Stars above, after six thousand years together, the angel still took his breath away!
"Oh, Crowley, it's beautiful!" Aziraphale exclaimed when he saw the pine tree in its red and gold pot. "But I thought you didn't care for them, dear boy. This is both our home; I wouldn't want to impose."
"Nah. It's all good, angel," he said as calmly as he could after Aziraphale had called the cottage 'our home'. "I think the artificial ones just don't feel the same. And chopping down a grown tree only to throw it away is just wasteful. But this one… this one is alive! When we're ready, I can plant it out back and it will grow. And be in its best behavior, if it knows what's best for it!" He took a minute to glower at the tree, which trembled slightly under his displeasure."
"Now, now," Aziraphale soothed. "I'm sure such a handsome tree knows not to drop any needles inside." The little tree stood up straighter and tried its best to show how well-behaved it truly could be.
"Angel! You can't spoil them like that or they'll think…"
"Can I spoil you instead then, dearest?"
Crowley's brain locked. Dearest . He'd never been anyone's dearest . Ever. Aziraphale wanted… to spoil him? That couldn't be right. He was a demon! Fallen! Just recently allowed on the same Side as the angel. He must have misunderstood. Deflect and regroup. Yep. That was the ticket.
"Nrrgh. Uhm. Yeah. Have you checked out the trunk, angel? Got some bobbles to go on the tree. Why don't you put hangers on them and I'll put fairy lights on the tree."
Aziraphale smiled softly and patted Crowley's arm as he walked over to the trunk. Then he bent over, giving just the slightest wiggle with his arse as he opened the top. Crowley froze again. The angel knew what he was doing, right? A thing like that… the pat and the wiggle. Had to be on purpose, right?
What was he supposed to be doing? Oh, yeah. Fairy lights. He pretended to fuss with the tree, but, after deciding on light gold lights, just pulled them from the ether. Might have found a bag of tartan ribbon bows to tie to the branches while he was pulling. Possibly.
He heard a loud gasp and quickly turned to see the blond angel pulling out the tray with the first layer of ornaments. The angel's eyes were wide and full of wonder at the variety of trinkets he held. He put them down on the armchair to examine them all.
Crowley watched with pride as Aziraphale pulled out each ornament and exclaimed over every one. There was a blown glass pickle from Germany. Silk poinsettias from Mexico. A little goat woven from straw from Sweden. A handmade Nisse with a red felt hat and a long gray bread from Norway. A carved and painted Befana from Italy still searched for the baby. His personal favorite was the bright red apple from France. And the spider from Ukraine was made from jingle bells and glittery silver pipe cleaners. Aziraphale laughed with joy as he shook it gently and listened to the high, clear jingle. Lastly, there was a large stained glass Moravian star from Greece that would cast a golden glow from the very top branch.
As Aziraphale stood back to make sure the bobbles were evenly spread on the tree, Crowley shoved the bag of bows at him. "Some daft store keep must have been trying to get rid of these," he said gruffly, working hard to keep the fondness out of his voice. "I sure didn't buy them."
"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale said with a pleased wiggle when he opened the bag and pulled out one of the bows, "these are the perfect finishing touch!"
"Yeah, well, at least this tartan has the sense to have a touch of red and black with all that cream and gold. It's as stylish as tartan can be, I suppose."
Aziraphale ignored him (except for the expected eyeroll) and started tying the bows on the tips of the branches. Also as expected, there were exactly enough bows to finish the tree to the angel's liking. The lights and topper, despite not being anywhere near an outlet, glowed in the gathering dark and the whole thing was rather fetching. Not that he would admit that, mind.
"Now that's done, do you want to go decorate the gingerbread, angel?" he asked, starting to feel a bit itchy at the homey feeling the glowing tree and angel produced. It was time to go cause some mischief lest his feelings bubble out and he had to hear the angel tell him he went too fast. Again.
Aziraphale looked at the tree for another moment, and his expression turned determined. What was going on in that angelic mind? Was the angel regretting setting up house with a demon already? Was he missing his bookshop and deciding to ask to go back home?
"I would love to decorate the cookies with you, Crowley, dear. But I have some things to say. Well, ask, actually. And I'd like to say them now, please. Before I lose my nerve. Sit with me on the sofa, darling?"
Fuck! Darling ?!! Following so soon after dearest , it was almost overwhelming. But, yeah, okay. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad. Surely the angel wouldn't be passing out pet names like candy if he was planning on shooting Crowley down again.
So… "Sure, Aziraphale." He slouched in his usual end, but Aziraphale sat in the middle, very close by, instead of over on his end. Crowley perked up. Maybe it was something… good?
"Crowley, my dear, the last four months have been the best of my existence. Since leaving Heaven's employ, I have been filled with a joy and light-heartedness I had never before known."
Crowley nodded in agreement, having experienced much the same. Though he was pretty sure it mostly had to do with the close proximity of a certain verbose, but perfectly so, angel.
"And then to spend the last two months cohabiting with you! It's been quite the eye-opener, I must admit."
Wait. In a good way or bad way? Was Aziraphale happy to spend time with him or was this just his kind, gentle way of showing Crowley the door? His body tensed, not knowing whether to be thrilled or shattered.
"I have found myself longing recently, for something a bit.. more"
Yeah. Sure. Okay. So Aziraphale found him lacking and needed more. No surprise there. He was Fallen and unworthy to even call the angel 'friend'. Guess it was time to pack up his plants and…
"I find myself wanting, as the young people put it, to move on to the next level of our relationship. By which, I am referring to physical intimacy."
Crowley's brain came to a hard, screeching halt. Relationship? Intimacy?!! He still wasn't exactly sure where the angel was going with this, but it sounded like a ship he'd been longing to board for thousands of years.
"I mean, well, lots of things, really. Holding hands. Sitting close together here on the sofa. Hugs." Aziraphale looked bashfully up through his golden eyelashes, and Crowley thought he would explode from the level of cuteness. "Kisses. Quite a lot of kisses actually; ranging from sweet pecks hello to deep, passionate ones. You see, Crowley, I no longer wish to hide my feelings. I love you." Aziraphale raised his chin and fixed him with a glare that defied him to disagree or joke. "I love you," he repeated, "and I would like to express that love in a very real, very physical manner."
Wait. Aziraphale loved him? Him?!! And it sounded like he wanted…. No, it couldn't be. He must have misunderstood somehow.
"Ngk," he began, oh so suavely. Shit, what a disaster he was! "Erhm, I mean, I'm not sure I'm following, Aziraphale. It sounds like you, the Angel of the Eastern Gate, want to shag me, the Original Temptor. But that can't be right, right?"
"Absolutely not!" Aziraphale said. But before he could slink off in shame, the angel continued. "I, Aziraphale, Retired Angel, love you, Crowley, Retired Fallen Angel. And as much as it might grieve you to hear it put in such a fashion, I want to make sweet, tender love to you until you finally get it through your thick skull that I consider you worthy of all the best things in creation. Darling, haven't you noticed? Most of my smiles begin with you. The joy and contentment I feel are because you are here with me."
Crowley tried to process all that, but kept getting stuck on one thing. The thing he wanted to make absolutely certain he had correct. The love stuff he tucked away for later consideration.
"But. You do. Want to fuck me?" The angel's answering frown told him he had it wrong. Or said it wrong. Or just was a wrong thing.
"Honestly, Crowley! Must you always joke around, even in a tender moment like this?" The angel huffed and made a motion to stand up. Quick as a tongue flick, Crowley was in his lap, facing him.
"No, angel! Don't leave!" he says in a panic. "I was trying to make sure I understood. That I wasn't reading more into your words and going too fast again. I just wanted… you. I want you, Aziraphale, and I fucked it up like I always do." He hung his head, out of breath, heart pounding a mile a minute, waiting to see if Aziraphale would let him stay or dump him to the ground for his audacity.
"Oh, my sweet darling," Aziraphale said, voice dripping with fondness.
"'m not," Crowley grumbled. "'m a fuckup. A menace."
A soft, broad finger hooked under his chin and raised it so he was looking at those sea glass eyes again. "Ah," the angel said softly, "but you're my menace, aren't you, dear?"
He was helpless to do anything but speak the truth looking into Aziraphale's kind, slightly amused, eyes. "Erhm, uh, yeah. For what it's worth… for what I'm worth… I'm yours, angel."
Aziraphale lit up with joy. It was almost blinding from this close up. "Darling, I'm so glad to hear it! If I may be so honored, may I set your glasses over on the table?"
Numbly, Crowley nodded, terrified of how loud his eyes would speak, but unable to deny his angel any request. Aziraphale hummed happily and took them with the utmost respect and gentleness, closing them and setting them down softly.
"Now. To clarify" Aziraphale said with a smile. "From now on, I would like to touch you just to ground myself and remind me that we are here together and can have this. Is that agreeable, dear?"
"Yeah," he choked out, drowning in the love shining in Aziraphale's eyes. "I'd like that, angel."
"Jolly good!" Aziraphale said, somehow managing to wiggle happily, even under the weight of Crowley in his lap. Crowley sent stern thoughts to his cock, reminding it to behave so they didn't have to leave the angel's lap.
"You are open to the occasional hug?"
"Yup. Big fan of hugs. From you, that is."
Aziraphale chuckled, but then his face grew serious. "You said upstairs that you had no notches on your bedpost. Did you understand what I meant? Were you serious?"
Crowley's face flamed without his permission. He felt exposed, vulnerable, and embarrassed. If it were anyone but Aziraphale, he would have smoked them in a column of hellfire. But, it was Aziraphale.
Despite his desire to hide, he kept his chin up and stared into the eyes he loved, hoping for understanding and acceptance.
"You weren't exactly subtle, now were you," he said. "You want it spelled out? I have never known anyone in the biblical sense. I… I've only wanted one being since I set foot on the Wall."
Then a thought exploded in his mind like lightning. He narrowed his eyes and asked. "But that's not true for you, is it Aziraphale? Hmm? Who exactly have you been consorting with through the centuries? Angels? Ugh. None of them hold a candle to you. Demons? Fuck, I hope not! Humans?" He watched Aziraphale's face as he spoke. Watched it pink up as he began. Saw the eye roll when he mentioned angels. Saw the disdain when he mentioned demons. But when he mentioned humans, Aziraphale broke eye contact and looked guiltily away, giving him his answer.
"I got lonely," Aziraphale said sadly. "I missed you, Crowley. It wasn't safe for us to be together. So, I sometimes sought out a certain type of human for companionship. And relief. I will say I haven't been with anyone for the last bit. Since before the Blitz, actually."
"A certain type, eh?" Crowley was doing his best not to be jealous of these long-dead humans, but… demon. "What type of human does the Angel of the Eastern Gate go hunting for to relieve his… stress?"
Aziraphale winced at that, but rallied to answer calmly. "I found myself looking for clever men with razor-sharp wits and wicked grins. Tall, lanky men with ginger hair were my favourites. Can you deduce why?"
"Substitutes? For me?"
Aziraphale nodded. "I'm sorry I didn't have your self-control and optimism to wait."
"Nah. 'S good. At least one of us will know what we're doing. But you could say it again. The thing. I'd like that."
"I love you, Crowley," Aziraphale said, knowing instantly what he meant. And wasn't that a thing?
"So you are interested in knowing each other intimately, my dear? To… shag, if you will?"
Crowley couldn't resist the tease. "Fuck, Aziraphale. I am very much interested in you fucking me. Or me fucking you. Both. Both is good."
Rolling his eyes without really meaning it, Aziraphale sighed. "Yes. Alright, you fiend. I would very much like to fuck you. Into the mattress in my room upstairs would be nice, although I'd happily take you here on the sofa, if needs be."
Crowley whimpered. No. Made a very evil sound to cover the fact that he had gone rock hard from the angel being bossy like that. Because, apparently, that totally did it for him.
From his expression, Aziraphale knew exactly how it had affected him. From his slow, wicked grin, he knew and he liked it.
Strong hands circled his waist and pulled him in close. "I think we've talked enough, hmm? I find myself famished for you, darling. Kiss me?"
Enough then. No more waiting for either of them. Aziraphale had asked, and the angel would get whatever he wanted. Gently, he cradled those soft, pink cheeks. "I love you, Aziraphale," he whispered. Then he sank forward and pressed the angel's plush lips with his own, grateful to the universe that he was finally able to have this. His hope. His dream. His everything.