Chapter Text
Aziraphale let out a contented sigh as he opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. It would appear that he had fallen asleep while reading again, though for how long, he couldn’t be certain. A tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice lay open on his chest and a thin layer of dust seemed to unsettle as he picked it up.
“What a wonderful dream it was, though a bit odd in some bits” he chuckled to himself.
Sitting up in bed, he began to brush the gathered dust off his clothing. Suddenly, something black shifted to his right in an antique leather armchair at his bedside. Crowley was sitting; albeit in a very uncomfortable slouched position, looking at Aziraphale. His black glasses covered his eyes, making his expression hard to read.
“Angel! You’re back in the land of the living! It’s only been about a sodding month now, give or take”, Crowley sneered, a bit of playfulness showing in his raised brow. “Must’ve been some dream you were having, kept talking in your sleep, somethin’ about a ah- marriage, was it?”
Aziraphale blushed and cleared his throat, “A month, you say? Well, that seems like an appropriate amount of time to have a full-fledged dream. I was actually dreaming that I was the protagonist of one of my favorite books!”
Aziraphale held up his worn copy of Pride and Prejudice , “ It was riddled with quite a bit of romance and drama, Crowley. You were there, as were the archangel Gabriel, Beelzebub, and Muriel.! Can you believe that?”
Crowley chuckled at the fervor in which Aziraphale recounted the cast of his dream. However, it wasn’t particularly new information. Crowley knew this much because Aziraphale had a habit of talking in full lengths of coherent dialogue while he dreamt.
After Crowley concluded that he was Mr. Darcy and Aziraphale was Elizabeth in the first few days of Aziraphale’s long slumber, he decided to do some research as Aziraphale slept because he had never really bothered to read the book before now, hell, he hadn’t even known Jane Austen was writing books outside of her gig in espionage. He opted to miracle up a copy of the film adaptation since reading for long periods strained his eyes, but he hadn’t counted on wanting to watch it more than once.
“I always knew you were a romantic Angel, but I never knew you’d have such an in-depth dream about human courtship and marriage, it’s charming.” Crowley had remarked with a tinge of snarkiness but still spoke from a place of genuine admiration and endearment.
Aziraphale grew flustered and grumbled something about why Crowley was even here in the first place, “How long have you been here anyways Crowley? Did Muriel let you in?”
Crowley removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, “Never left, been here since you fell asleep ‘bout a month ago. Didn’t want anyone, or anything disturbing your sleep, so I just hung around. Watched some movies, drank some booze, and a quiet month it was.” He repositioned himself in the chair with his hands steepled together resting on his stomach, “You seemed like you really needed the rest, and I could tell it was a good dream, so I let you enjoy it.”
Aziraphale was both surprised and touched by Crowley’s decision to watch over him. He might have also been a bit embarrassed, but he’d never say it aloud. “It was a simply splendid dream my dear! I’ve read the book more times than I could count and know the full thing by heart, all sixty-one chapters of it! I’ve never had an ongoing dream of this length before, but it was like being in a play! I was acting in first-person, but when there were things happening I wasn’t directly a part of, it was as if I was a member of the audience, watching events play out.”
As Aziraphale rambled on, Crowley crossed his legs and cleared his throat, “I uh- I studied up on your little novel there, while you were sleeping. Please tell me I wasn’t that asshole Wickam!”
Aziraphale guffawed at this accusation, “Wickam?! Heavens no Crowley, you’re much too good to be Wickam! Ah-ah, before you say anything about not being good, nice, OR kind, please allow me to explain.” Crowley rolled his eyes and put his glasses back on, leaning into the chair.
“I was Elizabeth Bennet, you were Fitzwilliam Darcy, Beelzebub was Bingley, Gabriel was Jane Bennet, and Wickam was actually War. You remember her from the almost apocalypse, red jacket, red hair…”
“How could I forget? Fiery devil that one, fitting she’d be the shittiest character and a military officer to boot. Like some sort of cosmic joke!” Crowley snickered proudly at his own description of Wickam, trying to demonstrate his clear understanding of the novel.
“Yes, yes, right you are Crowley, a very apt description! Now, I believe my mind cast you as Mr. Darcy because while you can be ornery and obtuse, you’re also very caring under your thick skin!” Aziraphale sat up as he said this and propped himself up against the headboard, resting his hands neatly on top of the comforter.
“Wh- did you just describe me as ornery? What am I? A prisoner to be kept in line? Ornery my ass!” Crowley folded his arms in mock hurt, though he did think it was rather amusing and accurate.
A small silence then grew in the room as the two looked at one another, finally Crowley once again spoke. “So…I was Darcy? We fought, flirted, and kissed?” A blush dusted his cheeks as he readjusted his glasses, it was evident he was avoiding eye contact.
“Oh, my dear Crowley…” Aziraphale bridged the gap between them, leaning to bring his warm hand to Crowley’s blushing cheek.
“It was so wonderful to feel as though I were meeting you all over again. To fall in love with you for a second time filled my heart with so much love and joy that I could hardly stand it.”
Crowley audibly gulped and raised his own hand to rest against Airaphale’s, they both let the silence linger a bit longer this time.
“I er- I love you too y’know? While you slept I watched the movie about two hundred times, maybe a bit excessive, but I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Having such a wonderful dream, dreaming of something you care so deeply about. And funnily enough, I might have enjoyed it, just a bit. Took like fifty watches to get there.” The last bit was muttered more to himself than Aziraphale, but with how close they were, it didn’t do much justice.
Aziraphale’s joy emanated from his corporal form in a soft glow, as he scooted to the edge of the bed he leaned to Crowley and whispered “May I remove your glasses, dear?”
Crowley shivered and nodded, unable to bring himself to speak. Aziraphale removed his hand from Crowley’s cheek and brought it up to his glasses, slowly taking them off and placing them on the bed beside himself. Looking into his golden eyes, Aziraphale took in a quick breath. “May I kiss you, Crowley?”
“Yes Angel, I’ve been waiting ‘bout a month for you to ask,” Crowley whispered back, thinking that it was quiet and domestic times like these that he had dreamt of for so long.
Aziraphale leaned forward and kissed Crowley with a warmth and intensity like that of a freshly minted star. Their bodies colliding almost toppled the armchair that Crowley had been slouched in. The next several moments were a whirl of hands grasping and the two of them gasping for air. This past month had left the both of them touch-starved and emotionally yearning, something that was instantly forgotten the moment their lips met.
Taking a moment to catch his breath Aziraphale leaned back slightly, “That was wonderful my dear, I’ve missed the real you. Dream Crowley is all well and good, but he didn't treat me the way you do, couldn’t touch me the way you do either.” Blushing as he said this, Aziraphale leaned back in for a softer kiss this time.
As the two of them continued to kiss, they both thought that maybe they should read Pride and Prejudice more often. It seemed to be a great segway into romantic inclinations.