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“Nowadays, it has been accepted that studies on cultural heritage made from just archaeological excavation often cannot provide sufficient and satisfactory information to determine the essential cultural and economic structures of the ancient inhabitants of a region….”
A sudden ‘ding’ sound interrupted Aziraphale’s reading time, and for a single moment he wondered what exactly did the sound belong to. It took him less than a minute to remember the communication device Crowley had given him. He seldom used it, since the regular phone in his bookshop was perfectly functional and he really preferred talking verbally than over written words, what they called ‘texting’ these days.
Aziraphale picked up the sleek, silver device and pressed the button on its front side. The screen popped bright, displaying Crowley’s name in a text message notification (technically the only contact on the phone). He tapped on the balloon to check out the contents.
‘Wanna hang out tonight?’ said the text. Aziraphale re-read it a couple times to adjust to the sudden burst of joy the request brought inside him. At last he typed back in reply, checked his own spelling and tapped SEND.
‘Sure. When and where?’
Aziraphale wished Crowley had just called instead; he would love to hear that tenor voice of his beloved demon more often. That wish kept him from putting the phone down, till another ‘ding’ announced a reply.
’9-ish. I’ll pick you up. Dinner on me.’
Darn, Crowley definitely knew how to tempt the angel. Aziraphale felt stupid for he couldn’t help the boyish grin that crept onto his lips, his cheeks warming with blush. He typed in the answer instantly.
‘Brilliant. See you.’
If he had still been a principality, he would have grabbed the sun and thrown it across the horizon for the night to fall as soon as possible; but that just couldn’t happen. Aziraphale had to remain content and patient, for this-
Oh blast. What was he thinking….?
He subconsciously cursed at his own racing thoughts (using the delicate 0h-so-gentle profanity of course), shook his head in a failure of an attempt of distraction. Just a night out with the dear friend of his, was everything to be expected of tonight. No fussing necessary.
Aziraphale returned to his book, suddenly finding geography way too boring. He just got up and browsed the shelves absent mindedly for something far more interesting to keep his mind busy. Choosing some Albert Camus at last, he sat down with an eternally steaming cup of cocoa and was effortlessly absorbed into the novel.
***
Autumn evenings always carried some sort of chilling vibes that made most people want to snuggle up for eternity, and Aziraphale, way too human-ish for his celestial identity, was barely an exception. He actually found it relaxing to close the shop around the evening and hide in his favorite spot in the back room of the shop, but that particular day had taken away his serenity. In a good way, of course.
The clock arms were still on 8:30 and he was dressed up as perfectly as he did, waiting for the shop door to swing open and reveal a much appreciated figure. Practically he was pretending to read, to deny his longing but the attempt was in vain. His human body was having weird, even funny reactions; as if tiny creatures were creeping around his insides and a certain warmth was burning in the middle of his abdominal cavity.
When the tingles got too annoying for Aziraphale to bear, he finally rose from his seat and headed for the kitchenette mirror seeking distraction, maybe make sure his bowtie was perfectly adjusted. The front door creaking open gained his full attention and shot an abrupt chill through his insides. Aziraphale returned to the main hall, the sight of a dressed to kill welcoming him at full force.
“Hey Aziraphale,” the demon grinned, leaning against the door frame.
“Crowley,” Aziraphale smiled. “It’s a delight to see you.”
“You ready?”
“Absolutely.”
The pair stepped out of the bookshop, Crowley using a snap of fingers as remote door locker before riding on the happy Bentley.
“It’s certainly chilly out there,” Aziraphale said. “And it’s not November yet.”
“Global something… somebody knows I miss the old days,” Crowley started the engine. “Cold seasons pain me in the ass. Hard to keep myself warm.”
“Oh, you are one cold blooded serpent,” Aziraphale corrected himself instantly. “I mean physically.”
“I won’t deny that. Funny how much alcohol it takes me to warm up.”
“So… where are we going?”
“I noticed a new French down the square, thought you may like it…” Crowley replied.
“Oh very kind of you, dear boy.” Aziraphale used the word on purpose to draw a groan out of his demon, and grinned in triumph when he did.
The ride to the restaurant was peaceful. The pair enjoyed each other’s company, chatting around like old-as-universe-itself fellows they were.
Bright restaurant lights welcomed the pair, with a large neon sign radiated absolute joy. The picture was perfected with pleasant cuisine scents decorating the air.
“After you,” Crowley offered, following the angel into the fancy restaurant.
“Lord, this place is fascinating. How come I had not noticed it?”
“It’s been opened yesterday,” Crowley replied, leading the angel to a reserved table. “We can just give it a go.”
“Very thoughtful of you, dear.”
A young, bubbly waiter came by, taking their orders. The menu itself did perform a decent act of temptation, and Aziraphale made a mental note to visit the place more often. With Crowley, of course.
“So, how was your day?” Aziraphale asked during the waiting. He tried not to gaze at his friend way too lovingly, having no wish of ruining the serene night. It would have been incredibly wonderful if his sunglasses were removed to reveal those golden pools of eternal beauty.
“Nothing out of ordinary,” Crowley implied. “Honestly I’ve been wishing we had been fired much earlier. It’s a bliss to be able to fu… no, no. Wander around doing nothing the whole time.”
Aziraphale smiled at Crowley’s self-correction. Public morals or trying to impress, he couldn't tell. Or wouldn't.
“I couldn’t agree more. Human life is far better than what they perceive, after all.”
Having their meals and drinks arrived, the rest of dinner time was such a delight to both of them. Even a sweet waitress came by, brought them couple-special champagne much to Aziraphale’s surprise (and Crowley’s attempt of one) to brighten it up even more. They got engaged in an enjoyable friendly chat they couldn’t have before, finally at ease without the constant fear of their respective head offices on their backs.
It was almost the closing hour when they decided to bid the cozy restaurant farewell (for now). Aziraphale left a generous tip at the table.
“You’re such a sweetheart, my dear,” Aziraphale beamed at his beloved friend while they approached the Bentley. “Thanks for the dinner.”
“I’m still trying to let all those sugar-coat slip off,” Crowley teased. “Can I tempt you to a night time hang-out?”
Aziraphale stared at the serpent’s covered eyes, able to read the warmth in his features. He wasn’t tired or anything and even if he was, like hell he would reject his demon.
“Temptation accomplished,” he smiled back.
“Hop on, angel.”
***
Half an hour of giggling over nonsense, chit-chatting and just enjoying the company like never before, Crowley finally pulled over and killed the engine. Aziraphale realized he had not really paid attention to where they were heading to, much thanks to the wholesome companionship. He peeked out and could recognize a rustic area, hilly fields, a couple distinctive households and trunks of tall trees.
“Where… are we?”
“Just a little out of London,” Crowley purred. “You’ll like it here.”
They got off the Bentley, a sudden wave of chilly breeze engulfing them. Crowley muttered something which might have been obscenities directed at the weather, grabbed a woven basket off the backseat and joined the angel on the other side of his vehicle.
“Shall we get a ‘wiggle on’?”
“Oh sure,” Aziraphale giggled at the demon imitating his old-fashioned vocabulary.
“Come on, the view is magnificent atop that hill over there.”
The angel felt a gentle hand, or the ghost of it, on the small of his back, guiding him as they walked towards the mentioned hill. It outstood the rest of hills height wise, being a perfect spot to watch nearby forest and distant houses with a faint light emitting from their windows and balconies. Had it been a tad brighter, one could even make the outline of a horizon far away.
The hand, or the phantom of it, left Aziraphale’s back. He shuddered a bit due to the chill, but realizing how rarely they shared physical contact despite all the indirect affection. Crowley summoned a blanket, a rather thick one which spread on the dew-spotted grass.
“Flop on, angel,” he offered, having sat on the dark-colored blanket with his long legs stretched out, patting a spot next to himself. “You’ll freeze standing like that.”
“Right,” Aziraphale whispered, landing in beside his pal. The blanket was abnormally but slightly warm.
“You like it here?”
“I do, such a cozy spot it is. I might plan a picnic someday, summer maybe, it’s kind of chilly to the bone at this time of the year.”
“You and your grandmamma ideas,” Crowley chuckled. “But I’m in. Look up there.”
Both lifted their gazes up to the sky, and the sight drew a gasp out of Aziraphale. Zillions of shining stars had charmed the sky, with a full moon to complete the show. He could even make the outlines of Milky Way, in shape of a silver mist.
“That is… splendid.”
“I know, right?”
Abruptly, Aziraphale remembered how Crowley felt about stars in general. He was a creator of stars before his infamous sauntering vaguely downwards, and the angel thought it might pain the now-demon somewhere deep within to watch his own creations as an exile.
A cold wind chilled the angel. Knowing the physically cold-blooded demon, he snapped a finger to summon a large, tartan blanket. Crowley glanced at him, as if the miracle had been expected.
“There you are, dear boy,” Aziraphale draped the blanket over the demon’s sharp jacket clad shoulders. “You’re still using a human vessel. You might get a cold.”
“And you are mister terminator?” Crowley miracle-elongated the blanket and lifted an arm in Aziraphale’s direction. “There’s room for two.”
Hesitating for a moment, the angel shook his mini panic off his mind before moving in bit closer not to waste any warmth. Their hips were pressed together slightly and Aziraphale would have a hard time resisting the urge to lean onto his demon.
“Oh I brought this warm-upping beverage,” Crowley remembered, reaching for the basket and pulling out a bottle of fine red vintage wine with two red party cups. “Pardon I couldn’t bring glassware. They jingle together and crack, you know. Shards everywhere”
“Who is grandmamma now?” Aziraphale teased, accepting a cup.
“Okay smartass,” Crowley snorted a laugh before miracle-unscrewing the cork, filling their cups.
“Cheers,” he slightly lifted his cup to toast the angel’s. Even with the alcohol entering his bloodstream, Aziraphale still held back his touch-starved self longing for physical intimacy.
“Aziraphale?” Crowley called, taking his sunglasses off, folding them. The angel looked at him, noticing a fiery lock dancing to the breeze on his pale brow.
“Yes?”
“We… we don’t have overlords lurking to devour us anymore,” the demon spoke after a couple moments of silence. “Why don’t we get together more often? It gets lonely down here without… well, without you, and lying in bed for weeks has started to sicken me.”
That was it. A direct blow scoring five points.
Crowley had the exact same thoughts as if he’d been scanning the angel’s mind.
“Well,” Aziraphale fiddled with the strips on his cup, his insides creeping again. “I’m going to admit… feeling the same for some time now. We really could use more company.”
Both fell silent afterwards, Crowley refilling the cups. They drank in silence, until wine ran out.
“Told ya,” Crowley set his empty cup aside. “Takes me fucklot of alcohol to warm up. I’m not even tipsy at t-this point.”
“Clearly not. I’ll get you some vodka next time.”
“Vod-vodka… Russian delight, huh?...”
“Drink an entire bottle and you’ll be warm for the next decade.”
Despite all the shit and giggles, Aziraphale had an inner quarrel whether to open up about his longing and also take the risk of ruining their friendship, or go on aching as it was.
“Darn it’s cold,” Crowley hissed, unthreateningly. Take the opportunity, you old fool.
“I can warm you up,” he heard himself, hovering an arm around Crowley as if asking for permission. The demon crawled closer, granting it with a slight press of bodies allowed. Aziraphale let his arm wrap around his pal, pulling him a bit closer. To test the waters, he gently brushed fingertips over Crowley’s hand, making the coldness an excuse to hold it. The demon not only didn’t protest, but leant even closer and let his head fall against Aziraphale’s shoulder. French delight.
“Angel?” he called. “What took us so long?”
Wrapping the blanket tighter around them (the bastard in him doing this on purpose to technically tighten the side embrace), Aziraphale sighed and rested a cheek against the silky ginger hair.
“Awkwardness, maybe?... Fear?”
“We’ve known each other for six thousand plus of years for fuck’s sake,” Crowley groaned. “And I have had to hold myself back from throwing myself at you for such a long time.”
The angel sighed, speechless. None of them was to blame.
Soft, warm lips pressed against his knuckles drew Aziraphale back to reality. His mundane heart skipped a beat and ‘that’s it,’ to himself he thought.
“Crowley?”
“Hmm?”
“Would you mind if I…”
“At this rate I do not mind anything, angel,” the demon whispered against Aziraphale’s skin. “Hold nothing back because I won’t.”
It was totally unexpected. Millennials of longing, and now he had the chance but no idea where to begin with. Releasing a breath, Aziraphale buried his face in the demon’s hair, breathing in the spicy, pleasant scent he’d always dreamt of.
You smell of life itself.
“You really are an innocent angel after all,” Aziraphale heard Crowley chuckle, before he lifted his face for their eyes to meet.
No starry sky could match those golden eyes.
A gentle hand found its way to the angel’s face, cheeks blushed thanks to the chill. Eyes spoke a heaven lot more than speech could do. Six thousand years of slow-burn wasn’t to be put into words.
Aziraphale felt his soul sigh at the sensation of same lips touching his cheek. This was true heaven.
His fingers ran blindly on Crowley’s jawline while he pulled away just enough to face his angel. A thumb traced his lower lip while uniquely enchanting orbs of gold watched his reaction. Aziraphale let his eyes fall shut, to welcome the feverishly warm lips meeting his. The slight touch sent a strong tingle down his spine and a mighty blow directly to his chest, in a way so pleasant it ached.
After a full moment of hesitation, Aziraphale’s hand returned to where it belonged in Crowley’s hair while the other was still grasping the demon’s. Silently wishing Crowley would grow his hair again, Aziraphale added some pressure to the kiss (their first, technically) and pulled the demon closer. Warm puffs of breath synchronizing his, feather light touches, a thundering heartbeat if he listened deliberately enough (which definitely belonged to Crowley) and now stilled thoughts- all he was dying for since ages ago.
Neither of them had an idea how much time had passed when they pulled away. Aziraphale opened his eyes to meet his beloved friend, struck at the sight of tears brimming to those magnificent serpentine orbs, beautifying them like they weren’t sparkly and captivating enough. Something cracked inside the angel while he reached up to wipe a drop of tear having just run onto Crowley’s cheek.
“Oh shit, sorry,” the redhead croaked. “Stupid me.”
“It’s fine, dearest,” Aziraphale whispered, pulling his demon in for a proper embrace. Something he would kill to have, even just for once. Sinewy arms wrapped around his shoulders while Aziraphale held onto Crowley’s slender figure like he would for dear life. Crowley hid his face in the crook of his angel’s neck, clearly fighting back unwelcome tears.
Aziraphale spent a long time carding fingers through Crowley’s hair, rocking him and planting light kisses onto his hair before the demon was calm enough to pull away without breaking down. The angel cradled his beloved creature’s face in his now warmed hands, brushing hair out of his eyes and adoring every single structure of the body Crowley had chosen. It was him. Everything was.
“Are you calm enough for another kiss?” Aziraphale asked softly. It made Crowley let out a half-sob, half-laughter, nodding in confirmation. Their lips met again in a reassuring kiss, this time Crowley reaching to touch his angel’s insanely soft blond curls.
Down the hill, the Bentley started playing Queen’s Somebody to Love for the couple. Both smiled through the kiss; it was a perfect metaphor of a middle finger for the whole universe that tried to tear them apart.
Crowley was the first to pull away, only to see what his angel looked like with surging levels of ‘love’.
He looked as cute as it could be – cheeks still blushing from the cold and impacts of affection, eyes dewy and bright, hair somewhat a mess. The demon smoothed a hand over Aziraphale’s hair, looking at him in the eyes for a couple seconds before giving in and pressing a sweet kiss onto his forehead. That small gesture deepened Aziraphale’s blush even more and turned him into a soft, human-sized angel-shaped squish. Crowley grinned at Aziraphale’s oh-what-a-touchy-feely-boyfriend-I-am expression
before pulling the angel onto his lap and embracing him tightly against his chest. Shapely and soft arms were wound around his slender waist while a fluffy head rested against his collarbones.
“I’m both amazed and grateful to fuck, for having you,” Crowley muttered, resting his chin on Aziraphale’s crown.
“So am I, dearest,” Aziraphale replied. “Oh by the way, the Bentley isn’t a living carriage, is it?”
“Well yeah, but actually no, I mean,...” Crowley paused, searching for words. “ ’Mean it’s not practically alive. But it does whatever I want it to.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
“Meaning it can allow you to drive ungodly miles per hour without hitting anyone?”
“That too,” Crowley giggled. “But I’m one heaven of a driver. Without a doubt.”
The beautiful and unusual pair lingered under the starry night sky for a long time, the Bentley playing every love song Crowley could think of.
Houselights going down reminded the demon that is was indeed past midnight, and they probably should have returned home.
“Angel,” Crowley called softly. “I think we’d better return back home.”
The angel didn’t respond, nor move a limb.
“Angel?” Crowley was concerned for a moment, before he looked down and found Aziraphale fallen asleep like a toddler against his chest, tucked securely in the blanket, breathing softly.
The demon tried really hard not to weep at the bundle of joy sound in his arms. He waved a hand to miracle a tent over them, sleeping bags and fine cushions included. Bonus for he wouldn’t have to worry about being lovesick till the morning after anymore.
With snake gentle movements, Crowley eased Aziraphale onto the fluffy bag spread large enough for two, lying down next to his sleeping angel. He studied Aziraphale’s soft features for a while, brushing light kisses onto his eyelids and velvet lips before wrapping him securely in his arms.
“Goodnight angel.”