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“Come on, it’s just a fence.” Crowley put on his best winning smile. “We can climb it. Be a great shortcut, probably.”
“We are not breaking into someone’s property,” Aziraphale said primly, following the fence line.
“Honestly, place looks abandoned. Bet no one would care.” Curious, Crowley peered over the stone wall into the tangled weeds of the garden. “Gosh, it’s got some nice flowers, though. Actually, this looks like the perfect picnic spot.”
Aziraphale glanced back at him, pursing his lips. “We are not breaking into someone’s property.”
This angel was ridiculous. Crowley loved him more than anything, but he was completely ridiculous. Impossible to argue with once he’d set his mind on something.
Resigned, Crowley shifted his grip on the handle of the picnic basket and followed. He and Aziraphale had been wandering the South Downs for a good thirty minutes now in search of that perfect spot. Crowley had pointed out several dozen, and Aziraphale rejected them all for one reason or another.
Last time, it had been a lack of shade from the bright sun. Crowley pointed into the fenced yard again. “Check out that big apple tree in front of the cottage. Looks like a great spot, yeah?”
“Crowley—”
“And what are you two up to?”
Crowley jumped at the unexpected voice. A man with a bushy grey beard glowered at them from a nearby footpath.
“Oh! Hello,” Aziraphale said brightly. “We’re just out on a lovely walk, that’s all.”
“A likely story.” The man glared at them both, gaze lingering on the picnic basket. “Robbers, like as not. Planning to rob this poor cottage! I’ll call the police.”
“Oy,” Crowley protested.
Aziraphale waved his hands wildly. “Oh, not at all! We’re not robbers, I swear.”
“What are you, then?”
Crowley opened his mouth to reply with something sarcastic, but Aziraphale answered first. “Oh, we’re simply an ordinary couple. We’ve been talking about moving in together, and this lovely little cottage seemed like just the perfect place.”
It was a total lie, flawlessly delivered, and Crowley stared at him in shock. Then he rallied, put on a wide grin, and draped his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders. “Yup, that’s right. We were just taking a look around. Wondering if we could see it. Is it for sale?”
The man gave them a suspicious look, then relaxed. “Aye. The old owner moved years back, over to Brighton to be close to family. I have the gate key.”
“Oh, how wonderful!” Aziraphale leaned into Crowley, looping both arms around his waist. Crowley’s breath hitched at the contact. “We’d be so very grateful if you’d let us look around a bit. We had no intention of breaking into someone’s property, of course, but I admit to a bit of curiosity. Isn’t that right, Crowley?”
Crowley grinned even more widely. He’d get Aziraphale back for this later. “‘Course it is, angel.”
With another glower, the man beckoned to them and set off down the footpath. “Gate’s this way. I don’t have a key to the cottage, but you can look at the outside.”
“That would be quite all right, thank you.” Aziraphale beamed at Crowley. “You know, I think under the apple tree would make a lovely picnic spot.”
Crowley rolled his eyes and grabbed Aziraphale’s hand. “Come on.”
They walked together down the footpath, hands tangled tightly and shoulders brushing together. A tingling sort of pleasure rolled over Crowley, each touch making him almost lightheaded. Oh, Somebody, if only he and Aziraphale were really in a relationship instead of just pretending.
Aziraphale, at least, was affected too. He swallowed hard, glancing up at Crowley, and his fingers tightened around Crowley’s hand.
Chest aching with longing, Crowley squeezed back. He and Aziraphale had held hands before, a couple times, but not often. He liked it a lot. Would love to do more of it—along with other things—but it was risky. Didn’t want to go too fast.
Then again, Aziraphale was the one who had just declared them a couple. So maybe a little hand holding wasn’t too fast at all.
The old man opened a rickety wooden gate and led them into the garden. It was a mess of a garden, weeds choking out the last persistent clumps of flowers. Up ahead, the cottage didn’t seem to be in much better shape. And yet…
And yet, just looking at it, Crowley could imagine something different, something amazing. The place fixed up, garden tidied and cultivated. Flowers absolutely everywhere, of course.
And inside, a home, a real home. Aziraphale in the kitchen, maybe, baking a cake. And Crowley could bring in a bouquet of those flowers, and then—
“This is it,” the man said brusquely. He eyed their picnic basket again. “There’s not much to steal here. Not much here, really. Whole place needs fixing up.”
Gosh, Crowley wanted to fix it up. But he pushed that thought aside for now and gave a little side to side sway. “Promise, we’re not robbers. Just out on a date, s’ all.”
“Thank you so much for showing us the place,” Aziraphale said in his most innocent tone, one that nonetheless functioned as a dismissal. “It was very kind of you.”
The man glowered at them again, then took out a tiny sketchbook and pen. He slowly wrote something down, then held the page out to Aziraphale. “The number of the owner, in case you want to buy.”
As soon as he trudged off, Crowley dropped the picnic basket and tried to pull out their tartan blanket without letting go of Aziraphale’s hand. “Well, that was fun.”
“Yes, rather.” Aziraphale drew a shaky breath, squeezed his hand, then let go in favor of setting up the food. Crowley gulped back disappointment. “I’m sorry if I caught you off guard back there. It was simply the first excuse that sprang to mind.”
“It was a good one,” Crowley said simply. He dropped to the blanket and leaned back, glancing up at the sky. “Convincing.”
Aziraphale’s hands shuffled anxiously on a tray of cakes. “Yes. I suppose it was. Just pretend of course, but I could almost imagine…”
Pushing was probably not the best idea, but Crowley had never been fantastic at impulse control. “It doesn’t have to be pretend,” he said softly. “We could make it real.”
Eyes wide, Aziraphale jerked towards him. A hint of red crept into his cheeks, and he hurriedly set the cakes down as his hands shook. “Crowley…”
“I love you, angel. You’re my best friend, and…” Breaths hitching, Crowley gestured towards the cottage. “I can imagine it. Us living here, together. We’d fix it up.”
“I could have a great big library,” Aziraphale breathed, eyes going even wider. He shook himself, as if trying to break the spell. Then he reached out, fingers brushing against the back of Crowley’s hand. “That is to say, I… I love you too, my dear. This is just a bit, um, sudden.”
“You started it.” Crowley smiled and turned his hand to hold Aziraphale’s. “But seriously. There’s no rush. You can take your time, think about—”
“Oh, let’s do it!” Beaming, Aziraphale wiggled. “I can’t think of anything I’d like better. A cottage with my very own big library. And, of course, my beloved Crowley.”
“Hrgk,” Crowley said, suddenly lightheaded. “Gosh, I like the sound of that. Can I, er… kiss you?”
Aziraphale nodded enthusiastically, shuffling closer on the blanket. “Oh yes, please do.”
Heart pounding, Crowley cupped Aziraphale’s cheek and leaned in. He pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s, slow, careful.
A whimper escaped, shivering rushing across him. This was like holding hands, but a million times more intense.
Aziraphale clutched at his jacket, pulling him closer. Crowley went at once, their lips still meeting and separating and then meeting again. Faster now, more passionate, both of them clutching at each other.
Each caress brought on a fresh thrill, each touch of lips like a bolt of lightning. Crowley slid his hand back to ruffle through Aziraphale’s soft curls, unable to resist.
They finally paused for breath, even though it wasn’t strictly necessary, and touched their foreheads together. Aziraphale stroked Crowley’s hair too, the same sort of wonder apparent. “Oh, my dear boy,” he whispered. “I like that very much.”
“Me too.” Crowley let his eyes drift shut, basking in the warm contact. But as long as they were already going this fast… “So. Wanna buy a cottage and move in together?”
Aziraphale gave a little laugh of delight and pulled him into a tight hug. “I do. Oh, Crowley, I truly do!”
They flopped down to the tartan blanket together, snuggled up, and resumed their exploration of the joys of kissing. Eventually, they would have their picnic, but it could wait. For now, they had things to celebrate.