Work Text:
“…and what with the rather unspoken, er, shift in our relationship, I thought it per– pernit– pernitent– ah, pertinent, to make my home more appealing to you.”
Crowley had merely asked, over his and Aziraphale’s third bottle of wine, why it was that the back of the bookshop had suddenly been all but cleared of most of its clutter, and become home to no less than three new plants, and why the soft, ornate rugs had been removed, leaving only the simple, sleek grey flooring.
Now his head is reeling with the ramblings of the drunken angel seated across from him.
“A-and of course, I’ve been making similar adjustmentsss to my– the– to my flat above,” slurs Aziraphale, sticking a finger up to point at the ceiling. He frowns when he realizes he’s lifted his pinky rather than his index finger, and he switches them with a pout, then looks back to Crowley. “I know you don’t often sleep here, but I’ve put a very firm, modern sort of bed up there, if you should ever like to take a nap, as I know that sofa isn’t quite what you’re used t–”
“Wha’ sort of shift?” Crowley interrupts, blinking, leaving his mouth agape after posing his question.
“Hm?” Aziraphale, who had been pointing at Crowley’s seat on the sofa, drops his hand back to himself and looks to him, somewhat dazedly.
“You said there was an ‘unspoken shift’ in our– you know, us,” Crowley gestures widely between them. “Wha’s the shift? S’an unspoken shift to what? Let’s ssspeak about it!”
Aziraphale flushes red, cradling his wine glass towards his chest and suddenly taking up intense interest in its remaining contents. “Er, I– I don’t know,” he murmurs. “It’s nothing, dear boy.”
“S’not nothing,” Crowley slurs. “You’re being all weird about it, now, so s’definininly not nothing.”
With a sigh followed by a few false starts, Aziraphale gets around to saying, “It’s only… It seems as though, you know, now that we’re free, to, er, be ourselves… together…”
“Yeah?”
“There are certain… things… we can do, now that we–”
“Are we talking sex things?” Crowley has to ask, because it’s making him anxious.
Aziraphale huffs a sigh and slumps further in his chair. “If we are, I think I should like to sober up for it.”
Crowley makes a whiny groaning noise and shifts uncomfortably on the sofa. “Yeah,” he admits, “prob’ly should.”
The alcohol leaves their systems, and the full weight of the conversation’s awkwardness takes its place.
Crowley wastes no time getting into it, because he’d really like to get it over with. He blows out a breath and tries to sound uncaring as he says, “So. Sex. Us.”
Aziraphale is pink in the face and staring wide-eyed at the floor. “Yes…”
“I… Angel, I–” Crowley huffs and sits up, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he explains, “Look, it’s not that I don’t find you attractive at all, ‘cause I do–you take my bloody breath away sometimes.”
Aziraphale looks up at him with those wide eyes and an ever-reddening complexion.
“S’just… I don’t…” Crowley gestures broadly for a few awkward seconds before he huffs and says, “No one is attractive in that way, for me, yeah?”
Aziraphale puffs his lips into a contemplative frown. Slowly, he says, “You mean… sexually?”
Crowley shakes his head and gives a shrug, then leans back against the sofa. “S’just not my thing.”
Aziraphale’s quiet a moment, nodding to himself, then he looks up at Crowley with bright eyes. “Oh!”
Crowley’s not sure what’s going on in the angel’s brain–if he really gets it–so he tries to be as clear as possible. “F’you were looking forward to it–with me, I mean, then I really don’t know what to tell you, ‘cause I can’t– I’m– I don’t want to. I’m not going to. N’that’s that, so.” Crowley sniffs and spreads his arms out on the back of the sofa. “Yeah.”
Aziraphale looks considerably less embarrassed, and perhaps even a bit… happy about this development? Crowley gives him a funny look, and Aziraphale regards him with a fond smile in return. “Oh, my dear, it’s quite alright! I’m actually rather relieved,” he says, setting his wine glass on the little table beside his chair. “I– You see, I do enjoy a bit of, er, self-pleasuring, from time to time, but I’ve really not much interest in pursuing such things with another person. It’s not something I spend a lot of time thinking about, really.” Aziraphale nods as he adds, “Although, I suppose if I were to engage in such activities, I would really only ever be interested in doing so with you– But of course if you’re uninterested, well, that’s quite alright with me!”
Crowley looks visibly relieved for about half a second, but he quickly collects himself into an air of nonchalance. “That’s… Good. Yeah.”
Aziraphale opens and closes his mouth a few times. He sighs when Crowley quirks a brow at him. “I, er…,” he tries. “That is, I… I wonder how you might feel about, er, other sorts of affection?”
Crowley sort of shrugs with his mouth. “Other sorts of affection…?”
“Of the… physical sort?” Aziraphale’s voice goes adorably high at the end, his uncertainty even more evident when he shifts awkwardly in his chair.
Crowley smirks, relaxing against the back of the sofa. “What are you asking, angel?”
Aziraphale huffs and turns his head away in a pout. “I’m asking if you’re fond of kisses.”
Crowley just grins. He grins because, at the moment, he can’t think of anything he’d rather do than discover what it’s like to kiss Aziraphale.
“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice draws him out of his imagination, sounding more insecure than before, prompting Crowley to look at him with a gentle expression.
“Hm?”
“Are you at all interested in… in kissing me? I-it’s alright if you aren’t, of course.”
Crowley can’t help but smirk as he decides to tease his angel just a bit more. “Are you interested in kissing me?”
Aziraphale tuts. “I’d have thought that would have been quite clear by my asking– And I really don’t see why my preferences should dictate yours.” He softens, then, and says, “I’m not interested in doing anything that you don’t want to do, I want to make that very clear.”
“I’m not interested in doing anything I don’t want to do, either, so we’re good on that.” Crowley blows out a casual sigh and throws his head back, then straightens himself to look at Aziraphale again. “I’m good with kisses, yeah. Just not the freaky ones.”
“‘Freaky’?” Aziraphale puts on an adorably confused frown.
“Nnh. You know. Deep. Wet. Tongues.” Crowley shudders a bit, then shakes his head. “Not my thing.”
A flash of understanding crosses Aziraphale’s face, then he puts on a little grimace, himself. “Ah, yes. I think I know what you mean,” he says. “I did quite a lot of, er, ‘deep kissing’ in my days at the gentlemen’s club, and I must say, I find it all to be rather… uncomfortable.”
“Yeah,” says Crowley, a little distantly. “Sorry, did you say a gentlemen’s club? Like a gentlemen’s gentlemen’s club sort of gentlemen’s club? Like a discreet sort of gentlemen’s club?”
Aziraphale waves a dismissive hand. “Beside the point, dear.”
“Excuse me if I’m just a little mournful that I didn’t get to tease you about that when you were deep in your righteousness act.” Crowley smirks. “Can’t imagine you were there under Heaven’s orders.”
“I’ll have you know,” Aziraphale starts, his entire demeanor going defensive, “I chose to go there myself because I wished to be a support to a community of people who were considered immoral simply for loving whom they loved. I suppose I might have related to them, in a way.”
Crowley melts, his smirk dropping as he says, “Oh, angel, I– Hey, I’m not mocking the club itself, or the people in it. Just. Find it a bit funny that, you know, at the time, might’ve gotten you into trouble with Heaven, yeah?”
“I suppose it might have,” Aziraphale sighs. “Although that’s not nearly the only thing I did that might have been disapproved of.” He huffs, then, and says, “Do you know, Gabriel once chastised me for eating sushi?”
Crowley puts on a scandalized gasp, mouth wide, hand on his chest and everything. “No!”
“Yes, he did!” Aziraphale grumbles, seemingly unaware of Crowley’s poorly-concealed chuckles across from him. “It’s no wonder he’s such a– an utterly dull individual.”
Crowley nods deeply, still teasing. “He’s got no flavor in his life, the poor bastard.”
“Precisely,” says Aziraphale. He sighs, then, and settles back in his seat. “So, a quick peck on the mouth would be, er, suitable, then?”
Crowley makes a startled little squeak at the sudden shift in conversation. “Yeah, that’s… yeah,” he says, his entire face going pink.
Aziraphale smiles. “And on the cheek? The forehead, maybe? Or perhaps your brow? Jaw? Neck and shoulders?”
“Nnh… All that except the neck. S’too… much. Not really my thing.”
“May I kiss your cheek, now?” Aziraphale’s already leaning his way out of his chair, as if he’s being drawn toward the sofa like a magnet.
Crowley grins. “You can kiss my mouth f’y’want.”
“Perhaps I will,” Aziraphale smiles, a fiery twinkle in his eyes.
“Perhaps I’ll like it.”
“It’s quite alright if you don’t,” Aziraphale says earnestly. “I won’t be offended.”
Crowley rolls his eyes. “I’m saying I’ll like it, angel.”
“And how would you know if you haven’t actually done it yet?” Aziraphale challenges.
“Same way I don’t have to have sex to know I don’t like that.”
“Yes, but that’s about not liking. We’re talking about liking things, now. And I’m asking, how can you possibly know for certain that you’ll enjoy something if you’ve yet to actually try it? You may never want to do it again!”
“How about you stop rambling and put your pouty little mouth on mine, and then we’ll know.”
Aziraphale is out of his chair and leaning over Crowley on the sofa in seconds. There’s a quick, light pressure on his lips, and then it’s gone, and Aziraphale is sitting beside him, adjusting his bowtie with a little cough. “Er… did you like it, then?”
Crowley can’t help but snort. “Barely had time to feel it.”
“Well, I suppose we could try it again,” says Aziraphale, already leaning closer.
“Mm, s’pose we could, yeah.”
The second time is more noticeable. They linger there for several seconds, their lips sharing warmth, with a bit more pressure than last time. Crowley finds himself grinning into the kiss, his hand sliding up to hold his angel’s face just before they begin to pull away from each other. He smooths his thumb over the soft skin on Aziraphale’s cheek, and they smile softly at each other in silence for a moment.
“I like kissing you,” Crowley finally murmurs.
“Ah, I had hoped you would,” says Aziraphale, his hand moving up to cover Crowley’s on his cheek. “I feel the same.”
“Could get used to that.”
“Mm, yes, I think I could, too.”
It feels like a dream, this comfortable silence between the two of them. When they finally drift further apart, Crowley’s hand falling back to his side, they both let out a few quiet giggles.
“Now,” Aziraphale sighs, putting his hands in his lap as he turns to face Crowley with his usual prim posture, “how about snuggling?”
Crowley blinks. “What?”
“How do you feel about being, er–”
“I’ll do it as long as we don’t call it that,” he interrupts, already longing to wrap himself around his angel. But calling it “snuggling”? Eugh, where did the humans come up with these awful, mushy words?
Aziraphale huffs. “Well, Crowley, what on Earth else would we call it? Cuddling?”
Crowley makes a disgusted noise in his throat and pulls his knees to his chest. He’ll snuggle his damned self if Aziraphale’s going to be a bastard about it. …Not that he’s calling it “snuggling”!
“Prolonged hugging?” Aziraphale continues, haughtily. “Getting clingy?”
“Angel,” Crowley groans, though it comes out sounding like more of a whine.
“Well, I’d simply like to know what sort of verbiage you find acceptable if I’d like to ask for a cwtch.”
Crowley snorts. “That sounds dirty.”
“It’s Welsh, and it’s a very sweet word,” Aziraphale gives him a gentle, playful swat on the arm, “you wicked thing.”
Crowley cackles a bit, then heaves a sigh. “I dunno. I guess ‘cuddle’ isn’t… the worst word… Definitely not something a demon should be doing, though.”
“Mm, nor is kissing an angel, I should think,” says Aziraphale. He gives him a knowing smile, then looks away.
“Or falling in love with one,” Crowley muses.
Aziraphale nods, then turns to look at him, lips parting.
Crowley gives him a funny look. “What?”
“Nothing, only I… I didn’t expect you to say it. Not so soon, anyway.”
Crowley frowns. “What, that I’m in love with you?”
“Mm.”
“Isn’t that what this whole conversation has been about? How in love we are with each other and what we want to do about it?”
“Er, yes, but– Well, you did just have a fit over the word ‘snuggling’, so you’ll understand if I’m rather taken aback by your openness with a phrase like ‘falling in love’.”
“That’s ‘cause ‘snuggling’ is a stupid word. Falling in love with you is just… what I did.” Crowley shrugs. “S’a fact. S’just a thing.”
Aziraphale puts on a rather bastardly smirk. “You know, one might argue that ‘snuggling’ is also ‘just a thing’.”
“Shut it.”
Aziraphale chuckles, then leans forward and presses a quick kiss to his demon’s lips. “I love you, too, of course.”
“Oh, of course.” Crowley grins.
“Have done for quite some time, actually.”
“I know, angel. I’ve known.”
“Yes, I suppose you have.” Aziraphale sighs. “I’m relieved to not have to hold it in anymore.”
Crowley chortles. “You make it sound like your love is urine and you’ve been near-bursting waiting for the loo.”
Aziraphale wrinkles his nose. “Well,” he mumbles, “there’s no need to put it like that.”
“You’re the one who said you’ve been ‘holding it in’.”
“You’re ruining the moment, dear,” Aziraphale tuts.
Crowley smirks. “Why don’t you kiss me about it?”
“Because you’ve just put the image of a bodily fluid in my mind, and that’s rather, er, what’s that term… a mood-killer.”
Crowley makes a strangled laughing sound through his nose and leans playfully against Aziraphale’s side, bumping him in the shoulder.
Aziraphale lets out an extremely put-upon sigh. “Why do I put up with you, you ridiculous thing?”
“Something to do with you loving me, probably,” says Crowley, settling down and snuggling (yes, definitely snuggling) up against his angel.
“Do you know, I think you may be on to something, there.” Aziraphale sighs, contentedly this time, and leans into Crowley, who takes the opportunity to pull his angel down with him until they’re lying horizontally on the sofa.
They stay quiet for a moment, just soaking up each other’s embrace.
“So,” Crowley finally says, reaching up to run a hand through Aziraphale’s hair, “when you were drunk off your arse a minute ago and talking about our ‘relationship shift’, is this what you meant, then? Kissing and… and being, uh… holding each other?”
“Well, partially, yes. That, and, er…” Aziraphale mumbles something Crowley can’t quite make out. “Movieinnarhether,” is what Crowley hears, but that doesn’t make sense, so he presses him to speak up. “Moving in together,” Aziraphale huffs. “I… I had hoped, making the back of the bookshop, and my flat, more, er, to your taste, would, I don’t know… encourage you to come around more often? To build a… a home with me, here.”
Crowley lets that sink in for a moment, then gives a deep nod. “Okay,” he says, shifting so they’re both halfway sitting up, still leaning against each other. “First of all, I come here because I like how much this place reeks of your taste.” He presses a finger to Aziraphale’s pouting lips before the angel can express offense at his choice of words. “It’s not my taste,” Crowley continues, “not even a little, and I can’t get enough of it. Because it’s you. I don’t want dull, sleek floors when I come to visit, or a ‘firm, modern’ mattress to nap on upstairs. I want your warmth. S’why I come here so often. To be around you and your, you know, everything. Your aesthetics, your tastes, your smells, your clutter, your home-ness. S’already home, here. You didn’t have to change anything.”
He huffs a sigh and sits up more fully, still keeping his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders. “And second… Angel, if you want to build a home with me, then… Let’s build a home. Our side, our home.”
Aziraphale’s tongue peeps out to wet his lips, his eyes wide as he asks, “What do you mean, exactly?”
“I mean… let’s… let’s forget about my flat and your shop. I mean, you don’t have to forget about it entirely, obviously, s’a good shop, and I know you love it– I’m not saying you should abandon it, just… We could get our own place. Something we design to be suited for both of us. A… I don’t know, a cottage, somewhere. With a bedroom I can nap in, and a library for your personal collection, and maybe a… a garden in the back. And a wine cellar. Got to have a wine cellar.” He rubs Aziraphale’s shoulders gently and adds, “We can stay there, most of the time, just you ’n me, and then when we want to be in, you know, the world outside of ourselves, we can take day trips into the city, or revisit other places we’ve been, like Rome, or Tokyo, or Montreal– We’ll go on holidays, but we can always come home to… to each other. Our home.”
A few unbearable seconds of silence pass, Aziraphale just staring back at him with wide eyes, and then Crowley sniffs as though he doesn’t care and brings his arms back to himself. “I mean, y’know. F’y’want.”
Aziraphale blinks, then breaks into a bright smile. “Crowley, I… I would like that very much.”
Oh thank Someone, Crowley thinks. He returns Aziraphale’s smile with one of his own, which grows into a smirk as he says, “How would you know you’d enjoy living with me if you’ve yet to actually try it? You might end up hating it. Might never want to spend another day with me again.”
Aziraphale gives him a flat look, which is utterly unconvincing when combined with the dreamlike daze that’s still lighting up his eyes. “I suppose we’ll have to move in together and find out, won’t we?”
“S’pose we will,” Crowley says, grinning.
Aziraphale lets out a dreamy sigh and gushes, “I love you, Crowley.”
“Love you, angel,” Crowley responds with a chuckle. “What would you say to some sssnuggles in your new bed upstairs?” The word makes him cringe internally, but when Aziraphale beams and wraps his arms around him, he decides it’s totally worth it. New favorite word, that. Snuggles. Best thing in the world, if it gets a smile like that out of his angel.
His angel. Who’s in his arms. Kissing his cheek! And soon to be sharing his home. Their home! Where they can have all the snuggles and kisses and lazy morning breakfasts and afternoon cuppas and evening glasses of wine and– maybe they’ll even nap together, and wake up in each other’s arms, and do it all again!
A shift in their relationship, indeed. Only it’s not unspoken anymore. And Crowley couldn’t be happier about that.