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"This way, angel," Crowley said as he led Aziraphale by the hand into a place he could not see. "Mind your step."
The blindfold was Crowley's idea that morning when they woke in their bed, warm and comfortable. He had one made, not miracled, of the softest silk shades of cream on chocolate that Aziraphale favored. Rather than tied, a clasp at the back kept it in place. Aziraphale was confused when Crowley presented it to him but when he explained what it was for and why, Aziraphale closed his eyes and waited for the cool fabric to slide against his face.
"Where are we now?" Crowley asked. In his voice was teasing amusement and Aziraphale smiled as well. He then breathed in and curled his toes. Beneath his feet were soft river rocks that occupied a part of the greenhouse floor and the fragrance of earth and flowers brought the image clear to his mind's eye.
"Your greenhouse, dear," he answered.
"Very good," Crowley purred in a way that he knew Aziraphale was weak against. That low husk Crowley's voice could reach had the same effect of warm velvet gliding down his naked back. Aziraphale shivered while a sweet, soft kiss was planted against his bare shoulder. "Just a little farther. It's going to be cold at first, but don't let that startle you."
Aziraphale smiled. He was curious and he wanted to ask. Surprises made him nervous most of the time unless Crowley was behind them. He trusted his demon more than he trusted any other being.
As Crowley had promised, Aziraphale's senses were dominated by a chill the moment his feet were gently guided into cool waters - refreshing on such a hot day. He gasped at the sensation but allowed Crowley to lower him in deeper and deeper until the water was to his shoulders. He had to ask, then.
"Darling, where am I now?" he wondered. Something soft brushed against his knees where they raised over the water's surface. Whatever it was bobbed and swayed.
"Guess," Crowley said. His hands had left Aziraphale and the angel could hear something clatter behind him. He focused past the noise Crowley was making to the ambience. Nearby was the soft splashing of running water and, reaching out, he could feel the glossy edge of a flower petal.
"The lily pond!" Aziraphale said, delighted. Crowley had decided on the personal project some time ago and insisted that Aziraphale wait until he was finished to see it. "Oh, I do wish to see it! Have you added the koi?"
A low chuckle answered him and then Crowley's hands were on his shoulders again. "Not yet. Was going to do this first. Be still for me, angel."
He obeyed, naturally. As eager as he was to remove the blindfold and see everything his dear had been working on, he knew Crowley was not finished with whatever mystery act he was up to.
Aziraphale did not need to wait long to find out. He was led to lean back and rest his shoulders against Crowley's knees. Those long and slender fingers combed through his curls first before cool water was spilled into them again and again until his hair was soaked. Behind the blindfold, Aziraphale's eyes prickled with the sting of tears and his heart was fit to swelling with how much his own love overwhelmed him in that moment. Crowley had remembered.
They'd had many discussions while they acclimated to their new life after 'The End That Wasn't'. There were the big ones, about themselves and each other, but then there were the small things. They shared their habits, their small pleasures that they never thought were worth mentioning or in Aziraphale's case, were quietly ashamed by. Crowley had plenty to say about that shame, about why it was ridiculous that anyone should feel guilt over a manicure or a visit to a barber.
'But Crowley,' Aziraphale had protested, because Heaven was still a hard voice in his ear at that time. 'I did not really need all of that, did I? My hair does not grow unless I make it. It was...it was frivolous, dear, really.'
Crowley had gone silent the way he sometimes would when he encountered these moments with Aziraphale. He would push other times but, on this one occasion, he had clenched his jaw and scowled into his wine glass.
Now here they were in the lily pond he had made, his fingers in Aziraphale's hair to give him one of the simple pleasures he had always told himself he shouldn't indulge in but could never seem to let go of.
"We're not using soap," Crowley said, filling the silence at last. "Won't be good for the lilies. Probably not good for the fish when they come in. I dunno, there might be some human soap that's good for it but bollocks to that. I made something else."
The scent of mint and lemon balm was sharp in the air and the fragrant water was massaged into his scalp. Aziraphale sighed and whatever tension his body had held until the moment slipped away. All of the world seemed to fade away until there was only himself and Crowley. He knew only the gentle glide of fingers through his hair, the careful tug to his curls that Crowley knew would make him gasp and sigh. Crowley always took care of him, always had, but in that moment Aziraphale felt especially cherished.
After the final rinse of Crowley's infused water, the demon lowered into the pond with him and enfolded Aziraphale in his arms. They were quiet, both of them. What expressions of devotions they had to say all were to be shared by the soft press of their lips.