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Back before he’d gone to heaven, Aziraphale never used to sleep. Instead he’d use the midnight hours to read, to listen to his favourite classical music or to fantasise about what it would be like to have a beautiful demon sleeping beside him – or maybe curled up against him.
So when he woke up, nestled beneath the soft linen sheets, he was surprised to find himself waking up at all. That first bit of surprise was quickly followed by the surprise of sunshine peeking through the curtains of the apartment above the bookshop. He was home. He was actually home. Back where he belonged.
He’d done it.
That wonderfully surprised feeling quickly morphed into a less pleasant one when he found the other side of the bed empty and cold.
Crowley had left.
Aziraphale sat up as he remembered last night.
After two years of loneliness, of trying to reshape heaven and eventually hatching a plan, he had gone back to earth and begged Crowley for his help. He’d found the demon in his bookshop and although Crowley had every reason to hate him, to turn him away, he hadn’t. The demon had agreed to help. Like the selfless being that he was, and Aziraphale had so wanted to kiss him then. He’d missed him so much. And Crowley was ever so pretty. But there hadn’t been time. Instead they had gone to find Anathema and Adam and Maggie and Nina. They had stood together, all of them, in a defence against heaven and hell. And, similarly to Armageddon, within a day the situation was resolved. Heaven and Hell backed off. The earth was saved.
Aziraphale’s fear for The Second Coming was immediately replaced by a deeper, more personal fear. The one of Crowley leaving him now. After all, with earth safe, there was no reason for the demon to stay. And yet he had. Crowley stood beside him, hands shoved deep inside his pockets, as Aziraphale had thanked every one of their friends. He had followed him back to the bookshop, and when Aziraphale had gathered all his bravery and asked him to please stay , Crowley had agreed – like nothing happened. Like they were still who they’d once been… before.
They’d opened a bottle of Chateauneuf-du-Pape and although Aziraphale had so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to tell Crowley – he had found his tongue tied and his mouth too dry to do so. He was so happy, so blessed, to find himself sitting aside from his best friend again and he was terrified of saying something that would spook Crowley and drive him away.
Oh, for once in my life, let me keep him, he’d thought as he poured another glass. The conversation was shallow, nothing about the past three years, nothing about how Aziraphale had missed Crowley like a literal limb, nothing about how he had thought of their first kiss every single second of every single day that passed. Wishing he could do it all over again. Wishing he could’ve stayed. – Instead they talked about how much Adam had grown and how good Miss Tracy’s new hairdo looked.
It was less than Aziraphale wanted but far more than what he deserved, and he would take whatever Crowley offered him.
When, after three bottles of wine, Crowley had announced that he should really get some sleep, Aziraphale had offered the upstairs apartment to him. The sheets are a high thread count of Egyptian linen, he’d said but what he really meant was please, please don’t leave me.
And like a miracle, Crowley accepted.
Aziraphale’d led him upstairs, opened the bedroom for him and watched as Crowley snapped his fingers and his usual attire changed into a pair of black silk pyjamas. His hand had curled harshly around the doorknob as he watched Crowley sink beneath the sheets, put his sunglasses on the side table and let out a soft breath as his head hit the fluffy pillows. Aziraphale lingered on the doorstep, knowing that he should say good night and step back out into the living room but not being able to stop just looking .
Crowley was perfect. He had always been perfect. But Aziraphale had never seen him this unguarded, this soft before. His body curled up into a ball beneath the sheets, his hair sprawled over white linen pillowcases. It was a new shape of perfection that Aziraphale wanted to imprint on the back of his eyelids so that he could see it every time he closed his eyes. He wanted to keep this moment forever.
“Angel,” Crowley had whispered, breaking the silence and rattling Aziraphale’s thoughts. “Are you just going to stand there all night?”
“Gosh. Oh. No. No. Of course I—” Aziraphale stuttered.
“Good,” Crowley breathed, opening one eye with which he looked up at Aziraphale. All the air left Aziraphale’s lungs at once. It was the first time in a long time that he was able to look into those beautiful eyes, and they were somehow even more beautiful than he remembered. Oh, my darling boy, Aziraphale thought as he continued to gaze into them, eager to come closer and see more. You don’t know how I’ve missed you.
“Come to bed, angel,” Crowley whispered and his eye fluttered shut, staying closed for what felt like centuries , before fluttering back open again. “It’s late and cold and you must be exhausted.”
Aziraphale didn’t need to breathe, he had no use for his human lungs except for just wanting them, but he still choked on air then. Did he really hear that right? Did Crowley just…
“You don’t have to,” Crowley said then, obviously taking Aziraphale’s panicked silence in completely the wrong way. “You could do something else. Just… thought I’d offer.”
“No. No. I— I… Yes. You’re right. Cold and late and tired, yes. Very tired. Me.”
The corner of Crowley’s mouth lifted slightly. “I thought you might. Hop on in then, angel.”
Aziraphale stepped forward, closed the door, walked the few steps over to the bed very carefully - all the while searching for any sign of discomfort from Crowley, but he just looked at him with that one eye open and that soft smile on his lips.
Aziraphale snapped his own fingers, exchanging his suit for a white nightshirt. Crowley made a soft noise then, and when Aziraphale caught his eye once more, it had darkened to a caramel brown.
“Lace trim,” Crowley whispered, the words warm in the cold room, “Looks good, angel.”
Oh.
Just minutes ago Aziraphale would’ve sworn he couldn’t love Crowley more than he already did, but he was proven wrong. His love only swelling further with Crowley’s obvious approval of his nightwear, the warm feeling taking up even more space. He could practically feel it pressing against all corners of his human body, begging to be released.
He slipped beneath the covers, careful to leave space between his body and Crowley’s, even though what he wanted was to wrap his arms around that lean, slender waist and pull him in until Crowley was practically another blanket for him.
It took every little bit of bravery in him, to turn on his side and face Crowley. And when he’d managed that, it took every little bit of self-perseverance to stop his hands from reaching out.
“Good night, Aziraphale,” Crowley whispered.
“Good night, my darling,” Aziraphale answered and he watched as Crowley shuddered beneath that new endearment, how his eyelid fluttered and his cheeks turned a pretty shade of red. “Dream of whatever you like best.”
How could he have been so stupid.
Of course the endearment wasn’t welcomed. It had been far too much, far too soon. They hadn’t spoken about anything . Aziraphale hadn’t even done the dance yet.
He was such an idiot.
Such. An. Idiot.
And now Crowley was gone.
How long had it been since he’d left the bed? Was it too late to catch up to him? To apologise and beg for forgiveness?
Oh gosh, Aziraphale thought. This must be how Crowley felt when I left. This emptiness. This hollowness. This feeling of not being good enough.
His poor, poor selfless, beautiful demon.
But there was a small glimmer of a chance… a small sprankle of hope… maybe if he was quick — Aziraphale threw the covers back, hissed when he put his warm feet onto the cold floorboards but didn’t give himself time to put on socks or slippers. He barged out of the bedroom, only to be met by an empty living room. There was no-one in the bathroom or kitchen either. He then barged downstairs, taking the steps two at a time and rushed through every line of bookshelves.
“Crowley?” he called, slightly out of breath but not stopping. “Crowley? Please. Are you here? Are you—” He came to a halt in front of the door. “You’re not here. You’re gone.”
His knees buckled and he had to grab hold of a bookcase. His eyes teared up and his throat ached, clogged with unspoken words that he should’ve said back when he’d had the chance. I love you. Please, stay with me. I never wanted to leave you. Kiss me again. I’m yours. Please, please, be mine.
He heaved, all the air in his lungs coming out at once, and he sunk back. He wouldn’t open the bookstore today. He would curl back into bed. Maybe some of Crowley’s scent would still linger on the pillow—
The bell above the door chimed and Aziraphale spun around.
There was only one other person for whom the door opened automatically…
“Crowley…”
“Angel,” Crowley said, standing on the doorstep, looking a little dazed. In his arms he held three cake boxes. “What are you doing? Please tell me you weren’t planning on opening the shop in your nighties.”
“Crowley. You— You’re back.”
“Ah. Yeah?” Crowley looked utterly surprised by Aziraphale’s surprise at that fact. “I went across the street,” he explained. “Figured there were probably no cakes in Heaven, so I should buy you some. Got a lot of your favourites, oh and these new things called tompouchen . They’re from Holland apparently.”
“You… You bought me breakfast?”
“I brought you cakes,” Crowley said. “Hardly considered good breakfast food. Still devilish as ever, me.”
“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, using the sleeve of his nightshirt to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “I—I thought you’d left.”
Crowley frowned, looked around and stepped sideways to deposit the cake boxes onto the bookshop’s desk - he set a few steps, seemed to think the better of it, turned around and put his sunglasses on top of the boxes. Then he made his way over to Aziraphale, not stopping until he was close enough for Aziraphale to see the freckles on his cheeks and the soft sparkle in his eyes.
“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispered, speaking his name as if it was the most precious thing he’d ever said. “Why would I leave? I just got you back.”
Aziraphale choked, gasped and then couldn’t stop himself from sobbing. Tears falling from his eyes, sliding down his cheeks, wetting his nightshirt.
Crowley kept looking at him, those beautiful eyes soft and honest and so filled with love that it only fueled Aziraphale’s guilt.
“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Crowley. I didn’t– I didn’t want to… I never wanted to— I…”
“Angel…”
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry—”
“Don’t–” Crowley said, stepping even closer, lifting his hand like he wanted to reach out, but then thinks the better of it, bringing it back down to his side before it ever touches Aziraphale’s skin. “Aziraphale. Don’t cry. I can’t when you cry.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that.”
“But I am.”
“I know you are.”
Aziraphale sighed, trying to blink back the fresh tears that he feels welling up in his eyes. “It’s not enough, is it? I–I’ve ruined everything.”
“Oh, angel…”
“I–I never wanted to hurt you, Crowley,” Aziraphale heaved. “You at least have to know that. I never want to cause you pain. And yet it seems like that is all I ever do.”
“That’s not true.”
“I don’t understand why you’re still here, Crowley. Why are you so - excuse the word - nice to me when all I do is hurt you? When all I’ve ever done is push you away? Even when I don’t want to.”
“Angel. Stop this.”
“You’re so much better than me, Crowley. You’ve always been. You’re strong and witty and beautiful and so unbelievably clever. You’ve saved me over and over again – and for what? What has it gotten you except heartache and—”
Crowley touched him then.
But it wasn’t the soft touch he’d been hoping for.
No. Crowley put both hands on his shoulders and pushed him back, back, back until his spine hit the bookshelves. They were so close now, Crowley’s nose almost touching him, Crowley’s breath fanning his cheeks.
“Stop it,” Crowley growled at him with the same dark and raw voice he’d used that day at the former nunnery in Tadfield, when he’d held Aziraphale in quite a similar way. “Stop tearing yourself down. Don’t do it. Please. Stop it. I can’t— Don’t. Please. Don’t .”
The fear in Crowley’s eyes was evident, and it tore Aziraphale’s heart wide open, making him unable to hold anything back any longer. He needed Crowley to know.
“I love you,” he said, spilling out the words he’d kept hidden for so long. “Crowley. I love you. I didn’t want to leave you. I wanted to be with you. I’ve always wanted to be with you. I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Crowley shook. His whole body was trembling and Aziraphale could feel his hands falling away from his shoulders. He reached up, taking both of Crowley’s hands in his own, moving them to his heart, pressing them against his chest.
“Please, Crowley. I know I don’t have the right to ask. But, please. If there is any part of you that still— that would still have me… then please, please, let me love you like I’ve always wanted to. Like you deserve.”
Crowley’s adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed thickly, his eyes dropping down to where Aziraphale was still holding his hands. And then he started moving his fingers, wriggling his hands loose and Aziraphale could feel his heart crumble. He let Crowley withdraw his fingers and dropped his own hands back to his sides. It was over, he thought. He was too late.
But then Crowley straightened his hands and pressed both against Aziraphale’s chest, the heat of them soaring through the thinness of his nightshirt.
“Angel,” he whispered. “Look. You’re not wrong, okay. I—I am angry with you.”
“Of course you are—”
“I am disappointed—”
“You have every right to be–”
The corner of Crowley’s mouth lifted a little, a nervous twitch more than a wannabe smile, and he bundled the fabric of Aziraphale’s nightshirt into one of his hands. “But I’m still here. I’m still here because… fuck, angel…. You could leave me a million times over and I’d still want to be nowhere but here. With you.”
“Oh darling…”
The twitch turned into a hesitant smile then. “You called me that yesterday too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No. Don’t. Don’t be. It’s good. I— I like it.”
Aziraphale’s heart was soaring. He wanted to reach out, but he was afraid of overstepping. Funny that, he thought. I’m afraid of going too fast for a change.
“Darling,” he sighed and revelled in the fact that Crowley really did seem to like it, judging by the flush of red that appeared on his ears and disappeared down his collar. “Can you ever forgive me?”
Crowley closed his eyes, dipped his head forward and released a sharp breath. “You don’t need my forgiveness, angel. Despite my heartbreak, you did what you had to do. You saved all of us. Without you— You did what was right. You always do.” He looked up then, a playful gleam in his eyes that Aziraphale knew so well, and had missed so much. “I once told you that I didn’t think you could do the wrong thing… and I still believe that.”
“But I had to hurt you in the process…”
“Small price to pay.”
“No. No, Crowley,” Aziraphale didn’t hold back then, and put his hands back over Crowley’s, pressing them closer against the skin of his chest. “Don’t say that. Your heart is ever so precious to me. And knowing that what I did - what I had to do - caused you pain… It’s the bane of my existence.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Crowley said, raising his shoulders. “I’m not fragile, angel. I have suffered far worse than a little heartbreak.”
“But it wasn’t a little heartbreak, was it?”
Crowley’s jaw locked then and his face turned sideways, gazing longingly back to the place he left his sunglasses. “No. No, it wasn’t.”
“You know,” Aziraphale said, voice soft. “My heart was breaking too.”
Crowley didn’t respond, just scrunched up his eyebrows and kept his eyes averted.
“I asked you to come with me and you refused.”
“ Sucks that, doesn’t it, ” Crowley mumbled and Aziraphale wasn’t sure he meant for him to overhear, but he did and he couldn’t let it go.
“You’re talking about Alpha Centauri?”
“Yeah,” Crowley snarled, and it was like something snapped. Crowley’s hands fell away from Aziraphale’s as he stepped back, putting a little distance between them that felt cold and stone-hard. “I asked you to come with me once and you refused. I asked you to come with me to a safe place. A place I build. A place where we could be together and you refused. You… You asked me to come to the one place I wouldn’t go. Fuck, angel, you know I would’ve followed you everywhere, anywhere but there!”
“Crowley…”
“I’m not an angel, Aziraphale. I will never be an angel again.”
“It wasn’t about—”
“I would throw myself headfirst into a bath of holy water before going back to being an angel.”
“Now, dear, that seems—”
“I’ve told you before and I’ll say it again, I’m not that angel anymore. The angel you once knew is not me.”
“I know that—”
“You clearly don’t. You wanted to change me.”
“No. Never.”
“You wanted the angel you once–”
“No. Crowley. No. I wanted you . I was going to do the most scary thing I had ever done in my whole life and I wanted you . I needed you. Not some angel I once vaguely knew… You. Do you get it? I asked you to come because I was scared. I was terrified, but I knew that if you were there, then everything would be alright. Because I’m safe with you. I trust you. I asked you to come because I needed you there. Because I was terrified. Because I wanted you there with me.”
Crowley looked at him then, and those golden eyes were glossy with tears. Aziraphale wanted to pull him into his arms, but he couldn’t. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Crowley was silent for a bit, just looking at him, until eventually he scraped his throat and said, “I think we should get those cakes upstairs and into a fridge. They might go bad if we leave them out much longer.”
Aziraphale sighed but nodded, following Crowley as he took the boxes and headed back up the stairs, into the apartment, straight through to the kitchen. Aziraphale knew that he shouldn’t press him right now. That Crowley needed time. And he deserved as much. But it was hard. It was so hard not to shake him and beg him for more anger, more pain, more accusations. He wanted everything out on the table. He wanted no more secrets or unspoken feelings between them, but more than anything he wanted Crowley to stay. And so he didn’t say anything. Bit his tongue until it almost bled.
“Hungry, angel?” Crowley asked, putting the boxes onto the kitchen counter. Aziraphale lingered in the doorway and watched as Crowley picked up his sunglasses, twirled them around in his fingers, before putting them to the side. Thank god. He then began to open the cake boxes one by one. “I think I’ll take one of these cherry thingies.”
“No thank you.”
“Angel…”
“I’m not hungry.”
Crowley curled his fingers around the edge of the kitchen counter for a second, breathing deep, before straightening up and pushing all three cake boxes into the fridge.
“Oh. I didn’t mean…. You should still—”
“I’m not eating cake all by myself.”
“Oh.”
They fell silent again and Aziraphale wanted to cry. It felt like the more they talked, the worse it got. Like the hurt was so deep, the pain so immense, that they would never emerge from the pit again. That it was already too late.
“I love you too, you know,” Crowley said then, and although his voice was soft and brittle, his words were precise and clear. “I know I didn’t say it back, earlier, when you said it. But I do. I— I love you.”
“Oh,” Aziraphale sighed lovingly, grabbing on to that little glimmer of hope. “Good. Jolly good. I– I hoped you would.”
“You didn’t know?”
“I—I’ve never looked , so to speak. I could - of course - if I tried - but… well, it always felt like a breach of trust. I would never want to invade your privacy like that and… well, I always hoped that we’d eventually just tell each other.”
Crowley nodded like he understood but then his eyebrows scrunched up. “But… surely you’ve known since our spat? I mean… I kissed you.”
“Ah. Yes. Well…” Aziraphale felt his cheeks heat thinking about that moment. It had been so unexpected and he’d already been so full of emotions that he couldn’t react the way he had always wanted to react when Crowley finally kissed him. He would forever regret not kissing him back, not holding him, not burying his fingers into that gorgeous red hair and messing it up. “I–I didn’t dare hope that… I thought maybe you just did it out of - I don’t know – desperation.”
“I did!” Crowley nearly shouted, pressing his palms against his eyes. “Fuck, Aziraphale. How can someone as clever as you be so stupid? I did do it out of desperation! I was so fucking desperate to get you to stay with me. I wanted you to stay. I was stupid enough to believe that me showing you how I felt would change something. Would get you to reconsider… but instead you just — forgave me .”
He spat those last words like he could barely manage to speak them, but once they were out, Crowley visibly softened. His head bowing down, his hands tugging at his hair.
“No. Wait. That’s not fair. I–I’m sorry. I should apologise for kissing you like that. I– I clearly did something you didn’t want me to do and I want you to know that I will never do that again. I shouldn’t have in the first place and I… I hate myself for practically assaulting you and for not asking your consent and— Fuck. I’m sorry.” Crowley paused, took a deep breath in and mumbled, “I do hope you can actually forgive me.”
“Oh, darling,” Aziraphale breathed, taking the leap and stepping closer, close enough to lay his hand against Crowley’s cheek and guide his face back up. He waited patiently until those golden eyes finally stopped flickering around and settled on his. Crowley exhaled slowly and nudged his face against Aziraphale’s hand like a cat, urging him on. “I’m afraid to say that you’re being rather stupid yourself now.”
“W–what?”
“Darling. I have wanted to kiss you for years. Centuries even.”
“Ngk. Really?”
“Of course I have.”
Crowley’s jaw moved and his eyes flitted down again. “Still. Shouldn’t have been like that. I was too harsh, I should've been softer.” He paused, blinked multiple times in rapid succession and then bashfully looked up at Aziraphale from beneath long black lashes. “I– I had always wanted to give you the romantic first kiss you deserved, and instead I made it into something… foul. A means to an end. And— I shouldn’t have.”
“No. Maybe not, but still - I liked it. I didn’t mind you kissing me. It’s okay, okay ?”
Crowley nodded and Aziraphale let his thumb brush across Crowley’s jaw. He could feel it tense beneath his skin, and wished he had the nerve to lean forward and give Crowley the romantic kiss he deserved.
“Angel,” Crowley whined, the word coming out all hoarse.
“Darling…” Aziraphale whispered, moving his hand further back and letting the tips of his fingers slide into Crowley’s hair. “Is there anything else? Anything you need to say? Anything you need to get off your chest? Please, Crowley. Tell me. I want to know. I—I know I’ve done you wrong so many times in the past. I know I’ve kept you at arm's length, I know I’ve pushed you away, told you that we weren’t friends, called you names I didn’t mean, pretended that you weren’t the very best thing that’s ever happened to me – Please, my dear, if there’s anything, anything, that is still weighing on you, please tell me.”
Crowley made a ‘ hum ’ noise and really seemed to think everything over, whilst Aziraphale waited, his heart beating in his chest. His own thoughts went back over every moment they’d spend together and every moment they’d spent apart. From the Garden of Eden to the moment where Crowley saved him and his beloved books from the Nazi’s. From the Bastille to the too-short dance they shared at the shopkeeper’s ball. From the time Crowley took a century-long nap to the years Aziraphale spent in Heaven – alone, terrified and determined to return home.
“Will you stay?” Crowley asked then, and if Aziraphale had thought his voice scared and brittle before, he’d been wrong. Now Crowley’s voice was brittle , on the verge of breaking several times in that short question alone. “Angel, I don’t care about any of it. I never did. I always knew you didn’t mean it. But— Aziraphale, please. Don’t rip my heart open again, if you’re going to leave.”
“Oh, darling.”
“I love you. I’ve always loved you,” Crowley said, voice choked. “All that I’ve ever wanted was you. But I can’t do this again. I can’t. So, I’m – fucking can’t believe I’m saying this - I’m begging you. Please. Please, don’t leave me again.”
Aziraphale’s eyes were so foggy with tears that Crowley’s face turned woozy until he blinked. The tears rolled down his cheeks as he lifted his other hand and cradled Crowley’s face, holding it like it was the most precious thing he’d ever held – because it was.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Crowley shivered beneath his hands.
“My darling. My love,” Aziraphale cooed. “I promise. I’m not going anywhere. Not without you. Never again. I promise. Darling. I promise you on everything that I am. If you’ll have me, I’m yours.”
Crowley snorted. “ If I’ll have you. Of course I’ll have you, angel.”
“And you’re sure you’re okay with… everything? As it is? There’s no more bad feelings? No more anger? Because, if we do this, darling, if you really choose to be mine, I want us to be fully equal. I don’t want there to be any secrets left between us.”
Crowley pressed his eyes closed, little wrinkles appearing at the corners. “There.. Ehm. There might be one more thing.”
“Tell me, my dearest.”
Crowley shuddered, wobbled on his feet and Aziraphale put his other hand cautiously on Crowley’s hip, guiding him closer, keeping him steady. “It might… fuck . It might be too fast. It probably is. It is. It is too fast. Way too fast. I–”
“Please, darling. Don’t hurt yourself. Just tell me what it is.”
“I’m afraid you’ll think me mad.”
Aziraphale chuckled, letting his thumb brush Crowley’s jaw. “I don’t think there’s been a time where I didn’t think you were utterly mad, you beautiful demon. It’s one of my favourite things about you.”
Crowley blushed.
“Greedy then,” he continued. “You’ll think me stupid and needy and selfish.”
“Darling, you’re overthinking this.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Crowley, please.”
“I— I kind of… uhm – might’ve — bought us a house.”
Oh.
Oh.
“You… You what ?” Aziraphale asked, unable to keep the shock from his voice.
“ Yeah .”
“You… What? When?”
Crowley’s eyes flicked around the room, his nervous energy very thick in the air. “Sometime after Armageddon.”
“ What? You’ve had a house for that long?”
“Yes. I couldn’t stay in my apartment any longer, remember. So I just— searched around and… well, I found something that I liked and that I thought you might — anyway —”
“You thought of me when you bought it?” Aziraphale asked, heart in his throat, heat spreading through every vein, absolutely sure that his human body wasn’t strong enough to withhold this much love.
“I always think of you, angel.”
He could cry from happiness.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?”
“I wanted to make it perfect. I’ve been trying to renovate the place, the human way - not wanting to attract too much attention from above or below - but it took a lot longer than expected. Contractors and builders, angel , I swear they’re worse than some demons.”
“But— what about the plants? Why did you keep them in your car if you had a home all along?”
“They didn’t like the dust.”
“Oh, you dearheart. That’s so nice—”
“ Don’t, ” Crowley groaned. “Not nice . Just… didn’t like them sagging. It took me almost twice as much water as usual to keep them lush and green. Not worth the trouble.”
Aziraphale smiled, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, unsure whether to ask or to wait. The fingers of his left hand slipped down to Crowley’s collar, toying with the fabric.
“And where is this house?”
“South Downs. And, really, it’s more of a cottage.”
“A cottage?”
“Yeah. Small. Picturesque. Close to the sea. — Big garden.”
“Of course.”
“It has a lot of bookshelves.”
“Does it?”
‘Made sure of it. Two walls in the living room, one in the bedroom and I turned one of the spare bedrooms into a full library.”
“How about a kitchen?”
“Yeah. That too. All the essentials and some… extras . I was roped into buying something called an Aga. Was told that home bakers especially love that sort of thing.”
“Huh.”
“Could give it a try… maybe.”
“Oh. Of course.”
“So. What’s the verdict?” Crowley swallowed, and Aziraphale was finally able to catch his eyes again, seeing those usually slitted pupils blown wide open. “Too fast?”
“No,” Aziraphale smiled softly. “No. Not too fast.”
Crowley blinked, once, twice, thrice before tilting his head a little. “Really? You sure, angel. I don’t—”
“Positive, darling.”
Crowley seemed utterly shook by this, and it did nothing to alleviate some of the guilt that still swirled in Aziraphale’s stomach. He reached out and took both of Crowley’s hands in his, brushing his thumb across every knuckle. “I–I would like you to ask me, Crowley,” he said, softly, eyes on their entwined hands. “I think I need to hear you ask me.”
His mouth was dry as he swallowed, his muscles tense as Crowley stayed quiet for longer than Aziraphale had expected. Eventually the silence made him realise he might’ve overstepped and he was about to retract his previous question when Crowley opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it, and then—
“Angel, would you want to share your life with me? Live with me? Please.”
Aziraphale blinked the tears in his eyes away, a smile breaking across his face. He couldn’t stop the butterflies from erupting in his stomach, and he wouldn’t want to if he could. This , he thought. He would want to feel like this for the rest of his eternal life.
“My darling,” he gasped, happiness slipping into every word he spoke. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”
Crowley’s eyes brightened and his whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. He shuffled forward, the points of his shoes nudging Aziraphale’s naked feet, his face so close that Aziraphale could count the freckles on that upturned nose. Crowley swayed forward a little and Aziraphale swore he was about to be kissed - he longed to be kissed - but before he could fully give in to the feeling, Crowley blinked and straightened himself out. A frown creased Crowley’s brow and Aziraphale could practically see the thoughts swirling through Crowley’s mind.
You go too fast for me.
I forgive you.
He wasn’t having it.
If Crowley wouldn’t do it, then he would.
He bundled the fabric of Crowley’s collar between his fingers and pulled. Crowley swayed forward with a surprised ngk on his lips, which Aziraphale swallowed with his own. Where their first kiss had been desperate and harsh, this one quickly morphed into something softer. With nowhere to go, and no one to pull them apart, they simply melted into each other. Crowley’s hands came up to cradle Aziraphale’s face and Aziraphale’s arms finally - finally - wrapped around Crowley’s lean frame, pulling him so close that he could feel Crowley’s heat soar through his nightshirt.
“I love you,” he whispered against Crowley’s lips. “I promise that from this day forward I will never go a day without saying it.”
“You can,” Crowley whispered back, nipping at Aziraphale’s bottom lip between words. “Don’t need your words as long as you show me, angel. Just want you to keep touching me. However. Please.”
“I’ll do both. Just in case.”
“Just in case,” Crowley chuckled, and he kissed him again. Aziraphale melted against him, lost in all consuming feelings of pleasure, worship and love.
This. This was heaven.