Work Text:
For an entity for whom size and shape were merely options, Crowley had become awfully preoccupied with distance lately. Currently, he was studying the scant handful of inches that Aziraphale had left between them when the angel plonked himself down on his patterned sofa. Not on the armchair. Not even at the other end of the sofa. Right there, one cushion over.
He pulled his knees a little closer in towards his chest, tightening the arm around them. He’d originally sat down with his back against the armrest, intending on stretching out in his usual sprawl. Except, now he couldn’t, because Aziraphale was right there.
“…Crowley?”
“Uh…” He looked up. Aziraphale was looking at him expectantly. “…what?”
The angel huffed out a breath, leaning forward to set his scotch glass down on the coffee table. The movement made Crowley slip forwards a little across the cushions.
“You weren’t listening, were you?”
Crowley tried to shift back towards the armrest again. He was starting to wish he hadn’t taken his glasses off earlier. “Err…”
Aziraphale chuckled, shaking his head. Crowley bit his lip.
The angel propped an elbow on the back of the couch and considered him, tilting his head. Crowley took a hasty mouthful of scotch, avoiding eye contact.
“Say…” Aziraphale said hesitantly, “are you… are you alright? You don’t look very, err, comfortable.” He dropped his forearm to lay along the backrest, and his dangling fingers brushed Crowley’s knee.
Crowley dropped his glass.
“Shit.” Scotch sloshed over his chest, soaking his shirt and vest. He fumbled to catch the glass, one foot slipping off the edge of the couch as he leant back.
“Oh dear.” Aziraphale shifted closer. “Here, let me.”
He leaned forward to pick up the glass from where Crowley had caught it against his stomach. Crowley stilled, frozen in place as his heart leapt into his throat. The angel’s movement brought him in contact with the leg Crowley still had folded up against the back of the couch, shoulder brushing the inside of his knee.
Crowley’s jaw dropped. He clutched at the fabric of the sofa, holding himself in place.
Aziraphale pulled back to put the glass on the table, and Crowley sucked in a shaky breath. He’d barely begun to relax, head still whirling, when the angel turned and leaned back over him again.
“Lucky it wasn’t wine, I suppose.” Aziraphale’s fingertips skated over the sodden material of his shirt, shifting his scarf and necklace aside as he assessed the damage.
Crowley stared. The leg that’d slipped off the couch twitched against the floor.
“Hmm. Well, there are some benefits to wearing dark clothes,” the angel murmured, squinting. “I can get this out for you, I think.” His lips pulled to the side.
He pressed his palm onto Crowley’s torso, and warm divine energy slid along his skin, drying the dampness as it went. Aziraphale’s mouth was pursed in concentration.
Crowley swallowed.
“There!” Crowley watched, transfixed, as the angel broke into a beaming smile. “Good as new.”
He stared as Aziraphale’s grin faded, softening into a fond smile. This close he could see the texture of the angel’s lips, the light sheen of moisture on them.
Aziraphale’s mouth twitched, and Crowley flicked his gaze up to the angel’s eyes. Aziraphale was watching him.
“Uh…” He tightened his grip on the couch. He wanted… but they didn’t, they’d never…
Then, in a movement so tiny Crowley never would have seen it if he wasn’t so close, Aziraphale quirked one eyebrow.
And oh, oh… he was waiting.
Fuck it.
Crowley lurched up and crushed their lips together. Aziraphale let out a satisfied hum that sent ripples of sensation fluttering through him and, thank Someone, kissed back. The angel pressed into him, tipping him back against the armrest.
Crowley gasped, tilting his head back, and Aziraphale brought a hand up to slide under his jaw. “About time, my dear,” he mumbled in between kisses. “Honestly.”
“Hang on,” Crowley said, outraged. Aziraphale pulled back. “D’you bloody well do that on purpose?”
“Err…”
“You did!” A slow grin curled across Crowley’s lips. “You tempted me!”
Aziraphale blushed, clearing his throat. “Well…”
“Oh, angel…”
He looped his arms around Aziraphale’s neck.
“…temptation accomplished.”