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Crowley relaxed as he entered the attic space of the cottage that he and Aziraphale had moved into the week before. While the Angel had suggested they use it for storage, he’d thought of a better purpose for it. After all, their pocket dimensions held a lot of things, and he wasn’t a fan of the idea of a perfectly good room being taken up by clutter.
This would be his pet project, one to work on while Aziraphale baked or tended to their new library. It would also distract him from the constant nagging of Mrs. Katherine, the neighbourhood busybody and the current bane of Crowley’s existence. Today, she had ruffled his feathers by berating the couple about the fact that their standing bird feeder (handsomely crafted by the Angel) extended just a smidge onto her property. Crowley had to refrain from snipping that her insanely large Buckingham Palace one, complete with a rendition of ‘God Save the Queen’ that played every half hour and echoed throughout the whole of the bloody South Downs, extended onto their property by five feet, but that was apparently none of his business.
He shook his head, dismissing all thoughts of her from his mind. Now to focus on the task at hand. He had finished the window seat, complete with firm cushions, tons of colorful throw pillows (he'd even thrown a tartan one in), and a curtain that one could draw for privacy. All that was left was to test it for comfort purposes.
He went over to one of the shelves and pulled out a thick album entitled ‘Our Memories’ before settling in. He flipped to the most recent section, where the pages were chock full of pictures from their holiday at Worthing Pier a few months prior. While it hadn’t been the first time they’d visited the pier, they had fun comparing and contrasting what it was like now as opposed to when it had first opened. One photo depicted a frustrated Aziraphale giving a seagull a good talking-to for taking his chips. Another was from inside the nightclub known as ‘The Pier,’ where they’d danced like nobody was watching. A third depicted Crowley falling off of a horse on the nearby carousel while Aziraphale tried and failed to suppress a laugh. However, out of all of the pictures from that vacation, his favorite one was of the angel jumping off the pier in an insane costume for the Birdman competition. The demon smirked. He’d ended up winning second place, and had looked chuffed as anything about it. However, he’d still had to stop the serpent from stealing the first place medal out of spite.
Time lost all meaning as he continued to flip through the book, allowing himself to get engrossed as he traveled back to the frozen snippets of their experiences together. While he’d had some memorable, even fun, times by himself, nothing ever compared to time spent in Aziraphale’s company. He thought back to when the camera was first invented. He’d coveted every photo of Aziraphale’s smiling self ever since, and he had created entire albums dedicated to that specific theme. Speaking of which....He went back to the shelf, replacing the first album and scanning the others. He paused when he came across a red leather bound volume. He picked it up, frowning at the nondescript cover and wondering how he’d never seen it.
His jaw dropped as he skimmed through the pages. He almost ran into a table as he stumbled back to the window seat, suddenly feeling an overwhelming need to sit down as he gawked at the contents.
Crowley had seen Aziraphale naked (many times, each more enjoyable than the last), but the photos in this previously secret album threw him for a whirl. His Angel, true to form in his taste for the 1950s, was dressed in various pinup costumes and tasteful lingerie. Though there were props in an attempt to depict a scene in each photo, it was clear that Aziraphale was the focus every time, the rest useless window dressing unless it was either in his hands or under his voluminous rear.
The demon’s mouth watered as he went through his newfound treasure way too quickly, potential scenarios flooding his reptile brain. Though he made it to the end sooner than he would have liked, he was rewarded with the discovery of an envelope, stuck in the back of the book, and addressed to him in the most beautiful calligraphy that he’d ever seen. He fought the instinct to just rip into the envelope, opening it more carefully than he thought himself capable of. Inside was a letter in the angel’s scrawl, all of those beautiful loops and strokes serving to reveal its author's intent in a deceptively elegant fashion.
Crowley shivered, swallowing thickly as he read:
My Dearest Darling,
I see that you have found my gift. Before you wonder for too long, no, there are no other copies of the photos in this book. They are, just as my heart is, for you and only you.
I have put a miracle on this letter and on the book, so I would not miss it when you opened it. If you would be so kind, I would appreciate it if you meet me in our new bedroom. We have many years of fantasies to catch up on, and though we have eternity together, there is no such thing as too soon.
To the world, and to you, my heart. You are one and the same, and I am determined to ensure that you never forget it.
-Aziraphale
"Ohoho, Angel," Crowley purred, gently closing the book and standing. "You are going to get it."
He made sure to take the book with him. If the angel was feeling particularly indulgent, Crowley would make sure that they wouldn't leave the room for at least the next two days, and though he had fodder, it was always a good idea to have references.