Work Text:
“You’re thinking too much,” said Crowley, pulling Aziraphale out of his thoughts.
He had, indeed, been thinking too much. Even the copious amounts of alcohol he and Crowley were currently sharing in their customary spots at the back of the bookshop weren’t helping. The thing was, everything was different now. Sure, this was the second time they had saved the world together, the second time Aziraphale had cut his ties with Heaven (this time for good), but it was the first time they had kissed, held each other after everything. It was an entirely new situation Aziraphale had no idea how to navigate.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.
Crowley was looking at him with heavy eyes. “It’s over, angel. We’re fine.”
“I know.” And that was the whole point. Everything was behind them, they had worked their way back together through apologies and tears and great big arguments. And now, how was Aziraphale supposed to go back to drinking in the bookshop with his best friend as if nothing had happened, when in reality everything had happened? He didn’t even know if he could call Crowley his friend anymore. What were they to each other now? Something more, certainly, but what word could contain everything Crowley meant to him?
Crowley took a breath as if to say something, and his hand reached forward for a second before he retreated it with a closed fist. Aziraphale understood nonetheless and moved to sit beside him on the sofa. Crowley let out a small sigh of relief and put his drink down. He must have sobered up at some point, as did Aziraphale. The angel stared as he moved. Once he settled down, Aziraphale dared to extend a hand for Crowley to take.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” the demons asked, thumb caressing the back of the angel’s hand. Such a small gesture, but it was enough to calm Aziraphale’s nerves a bit.
“Oh, don’t worry about me, dear, I’m just being silly.”
Crowley lifted an eyebrow but otherwise said nothing.
“Well, it’s just that everything is different now, isn’t it?” Aziraphale said, without looking at his demon.
“It’s not, though,” said Crowley. “It’s just us and the world, again.”
“Yes, but…” Aziraphale looked at their joined hands. “We do things like this, now.”
Crowley stilled. “We don’t have to.” He tried to pull his hand back, but Aziraphale held onto it.
“That’s not what I meant,” said Aziraphale gently. “It’s just all very new to me, is all. All of a sudden it’s as if I don’t know how to act around you anymore.”
Crowley smiled fondly. “It’s just me, angel.”
It was just Crowley, the being he had known for more than six thousand years. But now, Aziraphale was allowed to touch him, to be near him in a way he had never been allowed to indulge in before. Now, if he suddenly felt the urge to touch the demon, he didn’t have to push it down and bury it in the depths of his mind anymore. He could just do it, and he didn’t know how to deal with that yet.
“Yes, but I’ve never- I’ve never been like this with anyone before,” said Aziraphale, sliding his fingers to touch Crowley’s wrist and caress the soft skin there. I don’t know how to love you properly, he wanted to say, but they hadn’t used that word yet.
“Me neither.” Crowley reached up with his free hand to touch Aziraphale’s cheek. “I just want to be with you, angel. However you like.”
Aziraphale looked into Crowley’s eyes and saw nothing but sincerity there. “What if I want to kiss you?”
Crowley’s eyes widened for a second, but then he smirked. “Then you kiss me.”
“How do I know if you- if you’re in the mood, as they say?”
Crowley’s smile grew. “I’m always in the mood, me.” He leaned forward and pressed a gentle, short kiss on Aziraphale’s lips. “See, it’s not that deep.”
The angel took a beat too long to reopen his eyes. “What if I don’t want to stop?”
Crowley was taken aback by this. It took a few tries until full words left his mouth. “We don’t have to stop. Ever. We can kiss until our lips are numb, for all I’m concerned. We don’t even need to breathe.”
Aziraphale chuckled and reached up to touch Crowley’s jaw, his neck, in between the open button of his shirt. He wondered if the novelty of being able to do it so freely would ever wear off. “You’re so good to me.”
Crowley made a face at the word. “Look, it doesn't have to be complicated. We can do what we like." He lifted their joined hands to his mouth and kissed Aziraphale's palm. "You don't have to be afraid, angel. I'm yours, now. Have always been, really. I'll take whatever you want to give me."
Aziraphale exhaled, his breath stolen by the confession. He pushed his doubts down and surged forward to capture Crowley's lips in a tentative kiss. The demon responded immediately, kissing back and hands cupping Aziraphale's jaw.
There had been their first, desperate kiss. Then another, equally as desperate when Crowley finally accepted Aziraphale's apology. Then, the soft kiss Crowley just gave him. This kiss was something else, something new. It didn't have an agenda, it was just a kiss for the sake of a kiss. Their mouths moved against each other with little expertise and much enthusiasm. All they had to do was find a rhythm, and off they went to explore how it felt to be close like this. Crowley was the one to introduce tongues, and Aziraphale took to it like a duck to water.
If asked, neither of them would be able to tell how long they stayed like that. Very nearly until their lips were numb, that was for sure. To Aziraphale, it felt like the contact of their mouths lit his entire being. He could very well be glowing, he couldn't tell. He felt warm, safe, loved. Eventually, he pulled back, breathless. It seemed like Crowley was truly willing to keep going for as long as the angel wanted. Silly demon.
But instead of sitting back, Aziraphale leaned into Crowley, resting his head against his shoulder. The demon shifted until Aziraphale could comfortably fit against his side. He willed a glass of wine back to his hand and drank some. Aziraphale could use some too, so he took Crowley's glass and stole a sip. The act somehow seemed more daring than the kiss had been.
"Oi, get your own wine," Crowley complained half-heartedly, but Aziraphale could hear a smile creeping its way into his voice.
Aziraphale closed his eyes as Crowley wrapped an arm around him. The demon began talking, something about Rome or Greece, an old memory to reminisce about. And so they stayed, and Aziraphale's thoughts were calm once again.
--
After that, it became easier to fall into a new kind of routine -- one that was not that different from their old routine, once Aziraphale stopped to think about it. Sometimes they would make plans, sometimes Crowley would simply stop by, and sometimes Aziraphale would call him just because he missed him. It was much the same as before, except this time there would be lingering hands and linked arms when walking home and goodbye kisses. And as Aziraphale grew more and more comfortable with little, casual touches, so did Crowley. It was a hand on a lower back, a stroke of the cheek, a kiss on the temple. Aziraphale marveled at it every time.
The kissing evolved as well. Little sessions at the bookshop backroom, or against a bookshelf after a bit of bickering, even in the Bentley once, as if they were teenagers on a lovers’ lane. Aziraphale began to understand the buildup that led to… other things. The two of them had been letting their hands wonder more and more as their mouths worked against one another, and Aziraphale had discovered an obsession with that open v of Crowley's shirt, with touching the speckles of hair there and feeling the crescent need to explore the rest of the demon's chest. It was a true sorrow when he wore a turtleneck. But he dared not do it, not yet, no matter how low and intense the heat in his body tended to build.
It all seemed so simple in his romance novels, but in reality, Aziraphale was finding it hard to have a conversation about the matter, and even harder to take any initiative without said conversation. As much as Crowley said he'd accept anything, it didn't seem fair to him. They should understand each other better before taking steps they could not take back.
In the end, as much as Aziraphale tried to plan for things to go in the proper direction, it all came to a head in a rather unexpected way. Corporations, it seemed, had their own mind when it came to that sort of thing. It started, of all things, with Muriel.
"Angel, there's an… owl for you at the door?" Said Crowley, confused, as he entered the bookshop one Friday afternoon.
"Oh, splendid," said Aziraphale. "That'd be Muriel. They read in a book that people delivered letters like this, and now they can't seem to break the habit." He got up from his desk and went to retrieve his mail from the white owl perched at his window sill. "Maybe I should convince them to use pigeons instead, might be less conspicuous."
Crowley seemed like he had a great deal to say about the subject, but chose to let it pass for now. "You've been talking to Muriel?"
Aziraphale reentered the shop while reading the note from the angel. "Oh, how nice, they want to meet for coffee. Well, at the coffee shop, I doubt they will be drinking any coffee. "
"What?" Snapped Crowley, and Aziraphale looked up to see the demon's eyebrows furrowed.
"What? I haven't seen them since… well, since everything. It'll be nice to catch up."
Crowley threw his eyeglasses at a table and ran a hand down his face. "Catch up?"
"It's Muriel. They're our friend."
"They're not my friend," growled Crowley, even though Aziraphale knew he had a soft spot for Muriel. "They're an angel from Heaven. What if it's a trap?"
Aziraphale stepped closer. "Crowley, you've said yourself. It's over."
"I know that, you know that. What if they don't think it is, up there? What if Muriel- what if they have something to propose to you?"
Aziraphale was taken aback. "What could they possibly-"
"It doesn't matter what," snapped Crowley. "You shouldn't be listening to them. But you will, won't you?"
"Crowley, you're being-"
"I’m warning you, I can't deal with this again."
"Come with me if you're so worried."
"No," said Crowley firmly, surprising Aziraphale. "That's not how it works. I'm not your keeper, you have to make your own decisions."
"There's nothing to decide!" Aziraphale threw the letter at his desk, annoyed.
"What if there is?" Crowley stepped closer, crowding him. "What if they get here with an irresistible offer on a silver platter for you, huh? All humans can get into Heaven or something like that? How do I know you will not choose them again?"
Aziraphale gave out an outraged gasp. "I will not."
"You say that now." Crowley stepped back, defeated. "But I don't know if I believe you." He looked around for his glasses for a moment. When he found them, he shoved them onto his face. "Right," he said, and promptly walked out of the bookshop.
Aziraphale was left with a hundred comebacks stuck in his throat. What an absurd idea, after all they'd been through! He began to pace, trying to dissipate his anger. Surely Crowley would see how paranoid he was being. Aziraphale would never! Not a second time, anyway. Not after all the stunts Heaven had pulled, all the hurt they'd caused. Not when he was just starting to learn how to love and be loved. How could he ever leave Crowley again? How could the demon even think…
But Aziraphale's outrage didn't have time to fade properly, as not even a minute later Crowley was barging into the bookshop once again. He seemed like he had another argument at the tip of his tongue, but Aziraphale was having none of it. Before the demon could say another word, Aziraphale grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and kissed the living daylights out of him.
Crowley's response was immediate. He grasped Aziraphale's neck, bit his lip, and walked him back until they hit the edge of a table, toppling a few books over in the process. Aziraphale grasped at his back, pulling him impossibly closer. They were devouring each other, pouring into the kiss all the need and desperation their words couldn't convey. Absentmindedly, Aziraphale snapped to close the blinds all around them.
Crowley trailed bites and kisses on the way to Aziraphale's neck. "You can't leave me again."
"I won't," responded Aziraphale, utterly breathless. When Crowley sucked his neck, he threaded his fingers through his hair and pulled.
Crowley moaned. "You have to promise."
"I promise." Aziraphale's fingers found their way to Crowley's collar, as they had many times before. Only this time, when he trailed his fingers down, the shirt disappeared with his touch. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean-" but his palm was already fully pressed to the bare skin of Crowley's chest.
Crowley growled and captured Aziraphale's lips once again. They kissed hungrily while Aziraphale's hands explored the expanse of Crowley's chest, grazing a nipple down to his stomach and then back up again. The fact that he was still wearing his jacket made the whole thing even hotter, somehow.
Crowley pressed their hips together and the full force of Aziraphale's want hit him like a tornado. He could feel Crowley's hardness against his own and it was as if his mind was in the clouds. He reached down and without meaning made Crowley's belt disappear as well.
The demon gasped and leaned his forehead against Aziraphale's, panting against him. "You have to mean it."
Aziraphale reached inside Crowley's trousers, feeling the girth and the heat of him against his palm. "I mean it." The angel took Crowley fully against his hand, holding and stroking against the constraints of fabric.
Crowley all but mewled. He hid his face in the crook of Aziraphale's neck, one hand braced against the table while the other searched for Aziraphale's own hardness. But as the angel continued his efforts, Crowley lost focus again and again, until he just held on to Aziraphale's hips and pant through his pleasure, with the occasional kiss and bite to his neck.
"I won't leave you," promised Aziraphale. "Not if they offer me the whole world, the whole universe. Not if they give me the stars you built yourself." He reached down with his other hand to open the button and zipper, and so increased the speed of his movements. His free hand then came up to hold Crowley's head, who was wretched against his neck. Aziraphale, even if he wasn’t being touched, wasn’t doing much better. He was breathless, and his whole body was aflame. He could hear Crowley’s tiny moans and gasps right next to his ear, and it was a heady feeling.
"You have to believe me, Crowley," he continued. "Nothing in this world or beyond could take me away from you. I love you. My friend. My beloved. My husband."
Crowley came with a gasp and a grunt, thrusting into Aziraphale's hand and all but collapsing on top of him. The angel kept going through the aftershocks until Crowley calmed down. As he retreated his hand, the demon came up and kissed him, open-mouthed and needy, as if drinking Aziraphale's promises directly from the source. The angel spared a miracle to clean the mess on his hand and thread it through Crowley's hair.
Suddenly, the demon's hand was in front of Aziraphale's trousers. "Can I?" He murmured against the angel's lips.
"Yes," breathed Aziraphale.
Crowley was more patient than he had been, opening the angel's fly and pulling his cock out before taking it properly in his hand. Aziraphale was so hard it almost hurt, and the feeling of his demon's fingers around him was so heavenly he couldn't help but close his eyes and let the neediest sounds escape his throat. Crowley moved quickly and firmly while planting small kisses all over the angel's face and jaw. Aziraphale could do nothing but hold on while the tension inside him built and built until, in no time at all, it was spilling out of him with an obscene moan.
Crowley nipped his jaw with a groan, as if Aziraphale's orgasm reverberated through him as well. "I love you, you stupid angel."
Aziraphale smiled and kissed him again, pouring all his love into it. After a moment, they settled down, and Crowley waved away the mess while Aziraphale put himself back together.
"I'm sorry about your shirt," said Aziraphale.
"I'm not," Crowley smirked. He was still shamelessly shirtless under his jacket. "Where did you send it?"
"I… have no idea," admitted Aziraphale. He couldn't resist, he reached up to touch Crowley's chest again.
Crowley's smirk grew. "Did you propose to me, back then?"
Aziraphale looked away. "Might have," he mumbled.
Crowley chuckled and involved Aziraphale in an embrace, nose buried in the crook of his neck. The angel embraced him back, inhaling deeply, absorbing his scent. "Do you believe me now?"
Crowley tensed under his touch. "I don't know," he answered honestly.
"Come with me, please. You'll see there's nothing to worry about." Aziraphale sighed. "Darling, please. I don't want to fight anymore."
"'Was a nice fight," Crowley mumbled.
Aziraphale swatted him, but without any heat.
"Alright. I'll come with you."
--
Muriel, as expected, was a delight. The three of them met at Nina's shop, where Aziraphale tried to coax the other angel into trying hot chocolate for the hundredth time without success. They tried not to talk about any serious matter, and ended up discussing the last books Muriel had read while Crowley pretended to sulk in the corner. At the end of the day, Aziraphale handed them a bag with a few books for them to take to Heaven. They were simple paperbacks, because as much as he liked Muriel, he wasn't about to lend them any of his precious books (and as much as Crowley complained, he helped Aziraphale pick a couple when they went to the store to buy them). All in all, it was a pleasant afternoon. But Crowley still let out a sigh of relief once Muriel departed.
A smile tugged at the corner of Aziraphale's mouth. "You like them."
Crowley scoffed. "Do not."
Aziraphale let it go, but he knew the truth. He reached for the demon’s hand as they walked back the short distance to the bookshop. "So, are you feeling better?"
"I guess," responded the demon.
"How about I retrieve us a nice Bordeaux from the cellar and then perhaps we could, hm…" He stopped talking once he realized what he was about to say.
"We could what?" Asked Crowley innocently.
Aziraphale hesitated, but there wasn't any point in being embarrassed after everything they did. "We could talk… about what we did and, hm-"
"And?" There was already a smirk in Crowley's voice.
"About what else we could do," Aziraphale blurted out before he lost his nerves.
Crowley laughed openly. "Oh, let's do that!"
They went inside. Not much wine was drunk after all.