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‘You can stay at my place, if you like?’
The sentence had caused an icy hot stab through Aziraphale’s entire being. He’d never visited Crowley’s apartment. Aziraphale’s side kept a closer eye on him than Crowley’s did. It was just a precaution he took… had always taken.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from Crowley’s apartment. Something devilish or fiendish, or something like that. It was dark of course, at least, he’d expected that. But the greenery? No, never would have expected the plants. And they were all beautiful, well maintained. Aziraphale hadn’t realised Crowley had it in him to be so nurturing. He hadn’t expected the minimalism, either. The place was so comparatively bare that Aziraphale felt almost self-conscious about the state his bookshop was usually in.
Had been in?
He stood near the door, awkward and stiff. His arms were knitted in front of him. His eyes on some of Crowley’s questionable artwork.
“Come in here, angel,” Crowley said as he walked through to the kitchen. “You need some hot chocolate.”
“Oh,” Aziraphale smiled, the anxiousness leaving him in a breath. “That sounds lovely.” A subtle frown came to his face; Crowley didn’t eat or drink. “…Do you have any?”
“Of course I do, why would I offer you it if I didn’t have any?”
Aziraphale hovered at the entrance to the kitchen, watching Crowley pull a pot of instant hot chocolate from an otherwise empty cupboard. “Ah, how considerate of you to keep some around for me.”
Crowley glared at him, and then opened another cupboard and picked out a mug, identical to the mug Aziraphale used at home. Had used at home…
He still remembered when he’d got that mug. The shop he’d found it in had long closed down, it would be impossible for him to find a replacement. Maybe he would have to ask Crowley for that one. Crowley must have miracled it…
Did Crowley miracle everything in this apartment? That might explain the plants.
“I saw your plants,” Aziraphale mentioned, gesturing over his shoulder towards the opposite end of the apartment. “They’re beautiful. Did they come with the place?”
“They’ll stay that way if they know what’s good for them…” Crowley muttered, flipping on the kettle, and spooning hot chocolate powder into Aziraphale’s mug. “I’ve told you about my plants before. I must have! I’ve had them for… 30, 40 years now. Garden centre had a sale on. I’ve told you.”
Aziraphale shook his head weakly, he couldn’t remember the conversation if it had happened. “I suppose you must have.” He took a step further into the room, gesturing to the small table against the wall, “May I?” he asked.
“Knock yourself out,” Crowley said offhandedly, his attention on the hot chocolate as he poured the boiling water into Aziraphale’s mug and stirred it.
“Thankyou,” Aziraphale said dutifully, pulling out one of the two heavy chairs and taking a seat.
Now he thought about it he wasn’t sure why Crowley had a kitchen at all, if he didn’t eat why would he need one? He decided it was best not to ask. Although that thought triggered another.
“I…” he started awkwardly, unable to decided how exactly to word his query. “I suppose you only have the one bed, Crowley?”
“Great big bed, Yeah,” Crowley replied, his focus still on the hot chocolate as he brought it over, careful not to spill it.
Aziraphale felt himself grow flustered, “Well, then, might I ask where I’ll be sleeping? If I’ll be staying here.”
“I’ve got a sofa?” Crowley offered. He sat in the other chair, crossing one leg over his knee and leaning his foot against the table.
“That’s not exactly a long term solution, is it.” Aziraphale huffed, turning his attention to his mug of hot chocolate. “It’ll have to do for tonight…” He picked up the mug and sniffed the drink, a long deep inhale of the sweet smell, letting the warmth from the cup soothe him. It had been such a long and stressful day and the next would be far more stressful. The day after that? Who knew.
He took a slow sip of his hot drink. It tasted amazing, although that might have be the stress talking. Very creamy for an instant mix.
As far as long term solutions, if one were necessary, he wasn’t sure if he could stay with Crowley. His place was so depressing. Who had plain concrete walls? Not a speck of colour on them. And the décor was ghastly. The place would need a lot of fixing up if Aziraphale was going to feel comfortable here.
“Well, you could always…” Crowley began, cutting himself off. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
Aziraphale felt himself brighten, warmed by the hot chocolate, his mood almost instantly improving. “No, go ahead. No such thing as a bad idea.”
“I was going to say you could sleep in the bed,” Crowley suggested, his voice smaller than it usually was.
Aziraphale felt himself flush, smiling sweetly. “And kick you out of your own bed? Never. Well,” he glanced down quickly at the chairs they were sitting in, “That depends on if your sofa is as uncomfortable as these chairs,” he laughed weakly. Crowley let out a hollow echo of it.
“Not that I don’t like the chairs,” Aziraphale quickly corrected himself. “They’re very… pretty.”
“Pretty?” Crowley half sneered. “I don’t normally use them,” he confessed, “I just thought they suited the space. The point of the discomfort is that they force you to sit with a correct posture.”
Aziraphale frowned, his mouth gaping open. “What balderdash,” he gasped, astounded.
“Utterly evil,” Crowley smiled, “There are humans out there who swear by them. They put them in offices and people have to sit in them for 7 or more hours a day.”
“Did your lot come up with it?” Aziraphale asked, hoping the answer would be yes but knowing it probably wasn’t.
Crowley shook his head, “Only humans could come up with such an imaginative way to torture themselves. They say they’re good for their health.”
Aziraphale scoffed, “If sitting in this chair is healthy then I dare say I’m on the side of ill health in this particular debate.”
Crowley chuckled, shifting happily in his chair. After a while his smile faltered. “…And don’t forget; they’re not ‘my side’ anymore.”
Aziraphale let out a breath, taking another sip of hot chocolate, “Of course… It’s a habit to say.”
“There’s a lot of habits we’re going to have to break, angel.”
Aziraphale nodded half-heartedly, it was something he’d rather not dwell on. “At least this way I get to keep eating sushi. And we can spend a little more time together. We can go to the Ritz, without worrying about who might be watching.”
“Not having to be so hypervigilant will make things a lot nicer,” Crowley admitted. There was a look of calm on his face that was quite infectious. “We won’t have to worry about who we’re disappointing anymore.”
“Or who we’re trying to impress,” Aziraphale added. “It does sound rather lovely.”