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There was nothing - absolutely nothing - that Crowley wanted to do more than to snuggle with Aziraphale. The pandemic had been utterly stressful for him and being confined to the comforts of one's flat was not his ideal of a good time. In the beginning, he thought, They're a smart bunch, they'll figure themselves out.. Oh, how wrong he'd been. It wasn't just their little corner of the world that was suffering from the ill management of the pandemic; it was everywhere. Well, aside from those who fully closed their borders, like Australia. Those chaps had the right idea.
So, because of the negligence of the government to take the threat of death seriously, the virus had spread, almost growing out of control at some points. Crowley had never been worried about getting ill. He'd never gotten ill before and he certainly was not about to. Well, more like he couldn't get ill. At least, he didn't think ethereal beings like demons could get ill. Could they? He stopped to consider it for a moment.
"Oh, don't be stupid, of course they can't!" He told himself and set about pacing back and forth the width of his flat. He paused for a moment, pulling his mobile out of his pocket to check the time for the fortieth time. 9:42. His palms itched to do something. Anything! He'd been stuck in his flat for far too long with nothing to do. This was finally that day where he could go out and see someone.
In the beginning, he found ways to keep himself busy. He repotted some of his plants, threatened some of them into perfection, and reorganised the contents of his desk for the fiftieth time. He'd idly watched some news and reread his Big Book of Astronomy for the millionth time. Even took a nap for a week, for one stretch. Hell, he'd even gone out to do some shopping, if nothing else than to restock on his wine. He didn't really need any, but he had needed to get out. He wasn't a creature that could be confined.
He had also passed the time with hours of phone conversations with Aziraphale. After the failed attempt to end the world, the two of them had finally, finally, admitted how they felt for each other. Or rather, they both got sloppy drunk and Crowley may have commented on Aziraphale's lips and how they were so red they resembled a strawberry and well, the angel had tempted him to taste them, even told him to so how was he to refuse? And, well, if they had made out for quite a while afterwards and had no regrets when they were sober, that was just grand, wasn't it?
Still, it didn't stop the demon from itching to run his hands through the angel's downy curls. Or from wanting to thread his fingers through Aziraphale's soft, plush palms. Or from imagining gently biting at his plump lower lip, running his tongue along the curve, gently push- Ahem. Crowley coughed, attempting to restrain himself. His angel was much more precious and treasured than to have Crowley get carried away with lustful thoughts.
Without thought, he clicked at the side of his mobile to display the time. 9:48. Ugh, time was not passing fast enough. He had half a mind to storm out of his flat and head over to the bookshop and surprise Aziraphale, if only to appease his own desires. He was a demon, after all. Well, retired. Ex. Whatever. Didn't matter. He still had an image to uphold of doing whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.
But, there was a part of his brain that knew, just knew, that the angel would have none of that. He was stuffy and rigid and did not like change. While he could be spontaneous - albeit rarely - he was very much the creature of habit that Crowley was not. For Satan's sake, he still wore the clothes he got almost a century ago! Still… He just wanted to see him, more than anything. He just wanted some physical intimacy. A nap, a snuggle, maybe just a kiss or two. Not much. He was easy enough to please.
With a frustrated sigh, he pressed the side of his mobile again and glared at the screen. 9:37. He groaned at the device and considered throwing it angrily across the room, but relented. He didn’t really want to break it. It’d just mean he’d have to fix it later. So instead, he shoved the device back into his pocket, promising himself he wouldn’t look at it again for at least another ten minutes. Then he anxiously ran a hand through his hair, gently pulling at it for some relief.
He had really let it go, now that he thought about it. Where it had been relatively short on the sides but longer on the top, it was now just a one even mess. Well, even was a selective term, but it was relatively the same length now. Long enough for him to pull it back with a fancy black headband. He kept a few hair ties and headbands around just in case he decided on a whim that he wanted to let his hair grow out. He hadn’t wanted it to grow out, not really, but he couldn’t very well go and get it cut. And, much like Aziraphale, going and getting his hair trimmed was one of the very, very, very few human things he enjoyed doing. Hastily, he ran his hands through his hair to sort of finger comb the mess before turning to head to the bathroom for a headband. When he got in, he rustled through a basket he kept in there for that purpose and pulled out a black elastic hair band. Fitting it over his face, he pulled it back, attempting to tame the mess that was his hair.
There. That was one thing done. Crowley briefly regarded himself in the mirror, making sure he wasn’t looking like a total disaster when he went to visit Aziraphale. The demon could change, if he wanted to, but he felt that his more casual clothing was fitting, all things considered. Even with the black cardigan he wore, partly zipped up and revealing a fair amount of chest hair, and the black joggers, he thought he looked put together enough. Surely in no way compared to what he could only assume Aziraphale was wearing, but he wouldn’t be stopped for being a fashion disaster on the streets. Well, hopefully not. He only assumed the police had more important things to do, but then remembered they were the same body that went around booting vehicles for no reason. With a shake of his head, he left the bathroom and went back to where his desk sat.
Dramatically, he flopped himself down in the chair and considered what he could do for the next hour and… He pulled his mobile out for the time and groaned. 9:53. He had a whole hour and twenty minutes to go! How had he ever had patience before? Had he ever had patience, had that been a thing? Crowley wondered for a moment as to whether he had been patient and well, yes, yes he had, but this was Aziraphale, dammit, patience be damned. He was suffering badly from angel withdrawals. He could absolutely admit he had a problem. How on Earth he had ever been away from Aziraphale for hundreds, sometimes even thousands of years in the past, he had no idea. He’d never do that again, that was for damn sure.
Taking a deep breath, Crowley closed his eyes and let his head lean back against his throne. He could be patient. He could be patient, dammit. He would be. He had to be. The world wasn’t ending. He was simply just stir-crazy, pent-up, and in need of human interaction. He knew he was bored and at his wit's end. After a few moments of attempted peace, he opened his eyes and pulled out his mobile to - once again - check the time. 9:55
“Ugh!” he shouted to the room. “That’s it, I can’t take it. I’m calling him.”
As he stood up, he made quick work of unlocking his mobile and pressing Aziraphale contact info. He pressed the device to his ear and listened as the call connected and the familiar sounds of a dial tone sounded.
There was a ring. Then two. And by the third, he began to feel a little nervous that Aziraphale wouldn’t answer the telephone. But before the line could get to the fourth ring, he heard the call being picked up and a familiar voice flooding his ears. His entire body completely relaxed at the sound.
"A. Z. Fell and Co., I’m sorry to inform you, but the shop is most certainly closed due to the recent COVID restrict-"
“Angel, it’s me,” Crowley replied coolly as he leaned against the doorframe to his plant room. He felt boneless and needed something to keep him up. It was amazing how in such a short amount of time he had turned to complete and utter goo now that he could be true to himself.
“I wasn’t expecting you to call,” Aziraphale said back and oh, how Crowley loved that voice. That beautiful voice that was pleased the demon had called. He loved that being who clearly had a smile on his lips, who was probably thinking of seeing Crowley, too. He wanted to go to his angel so badly. “What is it, dear?”
For a moment, there was a chill that went down Crowley’s spine. Almost as if it was a bolt of electricity. It lit up his entire being with joy and giddiness. The simple and such commonplace endearment actually meant something now. It was meant for him.
“Hmm, just wanted to hear your voice,” the demon said as he closed his eyes and let the presence that was Aziraphale wrap around him like a warm hug.
“Dear, I’m almost positive we spoke a little over four hours ago,” and there was a bit of amusement in the angel’s voice that made the hair on Crowley’s neck and arms stand up in pure happiness.
“And a lifetime ago that was,” Crowley replied dramatically. It certainly felt that way, at least.
"Oh, quit being so dramatic, you old snake. We've gone much longer without speaking to each other," Aziraphale scolded affectionately and Crowley’s lips twitched into a smile. He loved when Aziraphale called him all sorts of nicknames. Wiley serpent, vile tempter, evil incarnate. They were all said with so much love it made Crowley tingle.
"And I loathed every single second of it, mind you," the demon said with a slight chuckle.
"Yes, well," Aziraphale said as he awkwardly cleared his throat. "Is there a reason you called? I'm a bit busy with something at the moment."
Was that a twinge of anxiety that Crowley heard in his voice? His ears perked up, and he stood up straighter, opening his eyes as he grew curious as to what Aziraphale was up to.
"No, not really. Just a bit bored,” Crowley said as he let the thought go. “Are you sure I can't come over earlier than 11, angel?" His lower lip stuck out as he recalled how badly he wanted to see Aziraphale. All previous concerns for the angel’s tone washed away.
"Quite sure," the angel said firmly. There was a pause for a moment, as if Aziraphale was distracted or thinking of something and then, "Actually, Crowley, I have a favour to ask. Is there any way that before you stop by, you could pop over to the corner shop and pick up a few things? Terribly sorry to trouble you, love. I've just been busy all morning and haven't had time to stop over there myself."
And if Crowley could possibly be filled with even more joy and love, that simple request did it. He lit up like a Christmas tree in July whenever Aziraphale asked him to do anything. Calming himself, he dropped his shoulders.
"No trouble at all, angel," he replied, turning around to head back to his desk. Within a few short strides he was there, shuffling around for a piece of a paper and a pen. "What sort of things do you need?"
"Let's see. A pint of orange juice and milk, some honey, double cream," Aziraphale said, sounding as if he was reading off his shopping list. Knowing his angel, he probably was. "Oh, and some jam. Whatever kind you like, just not the peach kind."
"Orange juice, milk, honey, double cream, not peach jam," Crowley repeated back to Aziraphale as he wrote. "Right. Anything else?"
"No,” there was a pause at the other end, probably due to Aziraphale going over the list once more to make sure nothing was missed. “That should be it, thank you. You'll be here by 11 o'clock sharp, yes?"
"Not a minute later," Crowley said with a slight chuckle, feeling rather giddy that he could leave even a tiny bit sooner to see Aziraphale. He quickly put away the pen and then set about to grab the keys for the Bentley, shoving the paper in his pocket as he swiftly opened his door. "See you soon, angel."
“See you soon, my dear.” Still smiling, Crowley took his mobile away from his ear and ended the call. He had to hurry. He didn’t want to waste a single second without his angel.
Despite the streets of SoHo being fairly empty, the Bentley still drove down them at an unreasonable speed. It wouldn’t be an understatement either to say that once Crowley had parked the car, he practically skipped into the shop. Well, logically he didn’t. It was more of a swaying saunter, but he certainly felt like he was skipping. Image and all to maintain, that was. Once inside, he pulled on his mask - not that he needed it, but it put the humans at ease - and took out his scrap of paper. Milk, orange juice, honey, double cream, jam - not peach. He made quick work gathering up the needed supplies before paying the cashier and heading out. He chanced a glance at his watch and noted the time. 10:34. Blasted time. Always had a mind of its own, taking much longer when it knew someone else was watching.
With a sigh, he pulled off his mask and climbed into the driver's seat of the Bentley. He had so much time until their agreed upon meet up time; he wasn’t sure what he was going to do with himself. As he started up the Bentley, he drove aching slow towards Aziraphale’s bookshop. Well, nothing else to do but wait, he supposed. Within a short five minutes, he was pulled up to the curb over the road. He again looked at his watch and groaned at the slow progression of time. 10:42. He pulled his mobile out, half considering calling Aziraphale to tell him he was coming earlier, but he didn’t want to see the angel fussy. He wanted him to be happy, and he wanted to be happy. Crowley wanted their reunion to be nothing but enjoyable.
Leading his head back against the headrest, he closed his eyes and thought about why they hadn’t spent quarantine together. They had talked about it. It sounded like a marvellous idea now. But Aziraphale had made some rather good points. As he tried to relax, the conversation of the past played in his head.
“You can’t sit still, love,” Aziraphale had said through the receiver. “You’d get bored. I mean, that’s not to say you won’t get bored at your flat but, well…”
His argument had fallen a bit short, but Crowley got the message. Aziraphale liked his space, his peace and quiet. And while he loved Crowley and wanted to spend time with him, being locked in a single space with him for an extended period was taking away some of that freedom he liked. And Crowley understood. He understood so achingly well. And he didn’t blame Aziraphale, not one bit. But he also didn’t realise how much he would miss his angel. He hadn’t realised they’d be locked in their homes for so long. Things he just hadn’t factored into the equation.
“I can sit still,” Crowley responded, a pout on his face. “What makes you think I couldn’t? Just get me a heat lamp and I’ll be fine.”
Aziraphale laughed heartily at the joke, and the pout on Crowley’s face turned into a smile.
“My lovely reptilian friend, as much as that would be an enjoyable sight, you really can’t sit still,” Aziraphale said gently. “What would you do when you couldn’t go out? Bother me endlessly? Read?”
“Oh, God no,” Crowley made an eck sound. The idea of picking up a book and reading sent shivers down his spine, and he shook at the thought. “Though bothering you endlessly doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”
“No, Crowley,” Aziraphale said firmly. “That sounds like a bad idea, indeed.”
Crowley audibly groaned into the phone. They had been talking it over for the better part of twenty minutes and Aziraphale had a point - he would get bored. But the thought of not being able to see Aziraphale whenever he wanted made Crowley pouty. In the past, it was easier. They were never together. But now? Now he simply wanted to be around the angel constantly, even if it was to stare lovingly at him for hours on end.
"You're right," the demon said with a long sigh. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're right."
"I want to see you too, my dear," Aziraphale said, clearly picking up on the unspoken words that Crowley hadn't said. "We can talk more about how we will work through this. Who knows, we might see each other in a week if it gets all sorted out by then."
He smiled as he recalled the numerous phone calls they had shared over lockdown. Some were sweet, where Crowley waxed on and on about his love for Aziraphale. Some were boring where Aziraphale read from one of his books to Crowley, to pass the time. Some were even stupid arguments that meant nothing, but still ended with one of them ending the call in a huff. Oh, they'd wait a bit, but then they'd call each other back and give endless apologies. It hadn't been all bad.
He had tried to convince Aziraphale to get a mobile, but the angel had been rather stubborn about it. All Crowley wanted to do was FaceTime him, see his face, maybe even exchange photos back and forth. Something to quell his desire to see his beloved. But Aziraphale had said, "No, there really is no need for me to get a mobile. I wouldn't even know how to use it!" And wouldn't that have been the truth! Shaking his head, Crowley opened his eyes and looked down at his watch. 10:58.
There, that was a much better time. He reached for the paper bag in the passenger seat and slowly got out of the Bentley. Quickly locking his car, he crossed the street to the bookshop and regarded the time. 10:59. He still had about thirty seconds before it hit 11:00, but he was going to stay true to his word. He stood there, anxiously tapping his foot against the ground as he watched the time slowly tick by. The moment the clock hit 11:00, he pushed open the doors. Finally, he'd get to see Aziraphale.
As he walked in, Crowley was immediately swept up in the familiar smells of the place. Old books, parchment, and even Aziraphale's cologne wrapped around him like a warm embrace. He'd never say it aloud, but he deeply missed it. All of it. He said his keys, down on the table nearest the door, as well as his glasses, as he called out.
"Aziraphale?"
He didn't see the angel and wondered if he was perhaps upstairs.
"In here!"
Crowley perked his ears toward the sound and followed it, along with the smells of something, towards where Aziraphale's small kitchen was. As he got closer, the smells grew stronger. Is Aziraphale… Baking? As he crossed the threshold into the kitchen, the smells of baked goods greeted him. But not only was there baked goods, there was a mess. A bit surprised by it all, Crowley stared at Aziraphale's back.
"Where do you want your stuff, angel?" He said as he held up the bag the angel most definitely couldn't see and placed it on the bamboo island in the middle of the room.
"Right there, if you wouldn't mind," Aziraphale replied and Crowley ticked an eyebrow up curiously. He then began unloading the contents of the bag.
"Need any help?" He asked, knowing full well he'd probably be more of a nuisance than a help. He was wretched in the kitchen.
"Would you be a dear and put on the kettle? It's got water in it, just need to turn on the cooktop," the angel said as he turned on the tap and Crowley gave a hmm in reply. He turned towards the older stove, surprised it still worked, and after a few clicks, got the burner to light. He then turned back to Aziraphale and smiled, noticing the apron the angel was wearing. It was tartan, just like a lot of things he owned, but it was frilly and lacy. Cute and sort of antique looking. It fit Aziraphale so perfectly.
"Don't think I've ever seen that apron before, angel," Crowley said with a small smirk on his lips. "Looks like something out of the '60s."
Aziraphale had finished with the tap and, having dried his hands, was hanging the tea towel back on the hook where it belonged. He watched as Aziraphale went about taking the apron off, too, while the other responded.
"From the 1950s, I believe," the angel said as he took the apron off his neck and hung it on its spot. "Saw it in a catalogue and had to order it. Haven't used it much since, to be honest."
It was then in that moment that Crowley saw the most glorious thing he'd ever seen. Aziraphale looked absolutely stunning. Well, stunning didn't even come close to how Crowley thought he looked. He was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open at that point, but he made no attempts to close it as he hyper fixated on the angel. He wore his usual attire, blue dress shirt, tartan bow tie, and his usual brown corduroy trousers. His beloved waistcoat was missing, but that was hardly of note. What was more dazzling and breathtaking than all the stars in the galaxy was that Aziraphale was sporting a full beard. Not just a hint of a shadow, either. A full, proper beard.
He felt his heart swell with emotions and there was a familiar tightening of his chest. He felt heat colour his cheeks as he stared openly and honestly at the beauty that was before him. It was full. It was lush. It looked so soft.
"Was it something I said?"
The words were so distant to Crowley and he wondered how he had even heard them, but his head shook on its own. Aziraphale's brows furrowed in mild confusion.
"Do I have flour on my face?"
Crowley hardly processed the words as he removed his hands from his pockets and lifted them up, walking towards Aziraphale with one purpose in mind. The angel's expression only changed minutely as Crowley walked around the island and placed both hands on the sides of Aziraphale's face, gently stroking at the hair there. Oh, by Satan was it soft!
"Crow-Crowley!" Aziraphale exclaimed as Crowley fixated on his face. It was so absolutely beautiful. It made the angel look so distinguished and elegant, in a way he never thought he'd see Aziraphale. Crowley held his face gently, gently running his thumb over the expanse of Aziraphale's cheeks.
"So soft and thick," the demon commented, before leaning forward to rub his own cheeks against the expanse of downy hair. Oh, he was in Heaven. Actually, it was better than Heaven.
"Crowley!" Aziraphale said, sounding flustered, and a tad amused by the whole ordeal, but made no attempts to move away from Crowley. "Really now, do you have to do that, dear?"
Crowley was so pleased with everything. He continued to rub his cheeks against Aziraphale's face and then reached up to gently thread his fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at the angel's scalp.
"Hmmm," Crowley said happily as he closed his eyes. It was so lush. So full. It was perfect. And Aziraphale looked absolutely mouth watering delicious with a full beard. Once he was done with one cheek, Crowley went about rubbing himself against the other cheek.
"Crowley, please," the angel pleaded, weakly. Crowley's face broke out into a smile as the angel let out a sigh of defeat. He proceeded to test his limits and rub his face more aggressively against Aziraphale, some primal desire to mark him with his scent.
"I've never seen you with a full beard, angel. Not like this, at least," Crowley purred. "You don't like facial hair. Too scruffy for ya." I'm never letting him shave this, he thought defensively to himself.
"Yes, well," Aziraphale said as Crowley continued to rub possessively at his face. "Seeing the state of the world right now, I can't quite go see my barber."
But that made little sense. Aziraphale could have kept himself clean shaven. Crowley was almost positive he had a razor. Wait, did he?
"Don't you own a razor?" He asked.
"Yes," the angel said with a grunt. "But I can't shave it at this length without clippers. Terrible razor burn and all. And would you please stop rubbing on me like a cat?"
Crowley smiled to himself and pulled away to give Aziraphale the space he had requested. He was so filled with love and admiration, he couldn't control himself. It felt like his entire body was vibrating at the molecular level. All he wanted to do was touch Aziraphale, hold him, be close with him and never let go. If they could be one body, Crowley didn't even know if that would be enough.
"You look so...," Crowley started, feeling a bit caught up in the whole experience, and a tad blissed out. "So hot."
He watched how such a word, in all its ineloquent glory, made Aziraphale flush a beautiful shade of red. It made Crowley jitter even more. He watched as the angel broke eye contact and fiddled with his shirt, before doing his usual gesture of tugging it down when he became anxious. Eventually, he cleared his throat and raised his head, still blushing, but more controlled.
"Crowley, please," Aziraphale replied as he met Crowley's eyes again. They were beautiful pools of blue. Or were they green today? Crowley couldn't quite tell as he lost himself in their endless beauty. They were nervous but also excited beyond belief. Aziraphale always had a hard time hiding the emotion in his eyes and Crowley always loved studying them.
"You look stunning, Aziraphale," the demon said softly as he gently raised his hands again to stroke lovingly at the sides of Aziraphale's furry face. He looked like a picture perfect angel. "You look wild. The most beautiful angel I've ever seen."
And it was true. There was not a hint of a lie in anything Crowley said. Never to Aziraphale. He was glorious and magnificent in all of his beauty. He wouldn't change a single thing about him. But the demon would request that his angel keep the facial hair. He found it made his heart skip in a very unnatural way that he quite enjoyed.
"Oh, hush with your flattery," Aziraphale said as he raised his hands to gently remove Crowley's away. The angel's eyes were soft and gentle, so full of love. Crowley smiled as he took the chance to thread his fingers together with Aziraphale's, holding his hands firmly. "I didn't ask you over so that you could latch yourself onto my face."
Even as the angel gestured with a nod to the island behind them, Crowley paid no attention. His entire focus was on Aziraphale and nothing else. He filled his every sense, his every thought, his every desire. He was his everything.
"Not hungry," he replied, even sounding distant and far away to his own ears. Well, he was hungry, but not the type of hunger Aziraphale could sate. Well, not in the way he was ready to, at least. Crowley knew that he always moved too fast for the angel and he'd wait as long as he had to for that hunger to be fed, if ever. He didn't mind. He was always racing towards Aziraphale and it was nice, nice that the angel had stopped moving and was even making progress towards him.
"Crowley," Aziraphale groaned, a bit of a pout forming on his face. Oh, that was a lovely look, wasn't it? "Love, I made all this for you."
Crowley blinked. Then he blinked again. Aziraphale had called him love. Not just as a polite nickname common to England. No, Aziraphale considered him, Crowley, to be his love.
It took him a moment to register what was happening, but when he did, Aziraphale had removed his hands from Crowley's and was once again displaying the desserts to the demon. Curiously, Crowley turned and looked around at the spread that the angel was gesturing to. He gave a quick glance at the pastries there, noting the lemon poppy muffins, the half-dozen crumpets, the wild berry strudel, and the orange zest scones. He hadn't needed to try any of it to smell the ingredients so fully. As he looked them over, his nose directed him over to the counter behind Aziraphale, noting two still cooling cakes. Victoria sponge, if his nose was correct, and it always was.
But then there was a scent he hadn't smelt before. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath in and focused on the smells that wrapped around his senses like a calming embrace.
"Citrus, vanilla, sandalwood, cedar," the demon said softly. "Do I smell a hint of lavender, too?"
"My beard oil," Aziraphale said, almost impulsively. "Can't you comment on the food? I've been up since 5 o'clock working very hard to make the things you like." Aziraphale had worked hard and wanted to be praised.
"Angel," Crowley said as he opened his eyes and fixed them firmly on Aziraphale. "It all smells delicious, really. But you smell far better than any pastry. Hard to focus on anything else when you smell like a whole damn meal."
And it was the truth. Aziraphale was an entire five course meal and his beard was just the dessert that Crowley wanted. He watched as his angel flushed slightly at the mildly raunchy compliment, fidgeting in his normal way.
"Do you really like it...?" The angel's voice came out almost in a whisper.
Crowley's heart stuttered in his chest. Why on Earth would Aziraphale think there was a single thing about him that Crowley wouldn't like?
Slowly, he raised his hands and gently cradled Aziraphale's face, trying to convey as much tender love in his touch as he could. He loved Aziraphale, more than anything. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, that could make the demon love him or feel less about him. The angel leaned into the touch, closing his eyes with a content look on his face.
"I do," Crowley whispered to his angel as he gently stroked his cheeks with his thumb. "I really, really, like it. I feel like I'm falling in love with you all over again."
"Oh, don't be silly," Aziraphale said as he opened his eyes to meet Crowley's gaze. "Bit of facial hair can't really make you fall in love again."
"Hmm, I disagree," Crowley mused. "A bit of facial hair makes you look absolutely stunning, darling. I think I've fallen in love with you all over again." He chuckled as he stared lovingly into his angel's eyes. To anyone else, it might have looked like Crowley's love was just being reflected back on him, but he knew otherwise. The love he saw in Aziraphale's eyes was soft, tender, and gentle. It was protective and fierce. It was boundless and endless, as it had been since the moment he had met Crowley. It was warm and relaxing, slow and patient. It was everything Crowley wanted. Aziraphale was everything Crowley wanted.
Crowley was startled from his thoughts as Aziraphale nuzzled his face against the demon's palm, a smile spreading across his face, "I love you too."
The words were familiar, said in so many ways over the years, but never so plainly. They made Crowley's feel giddy as a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, "may I kiss you?"
Aziraphale looked as if he was thinking about it, but Crowley saw the mischief there, and with a nod he replied, "well, I suppose."
A laughter rumbled out from Crowley, warm and genuine, as he leaned forward to press his lips against his angel's. He smirked as Aziraphale scrunched up his nose and gently applied a bit of pressure into the kiss, only pulling away a moment later, the angel chasing after his lips. With the smile still on his lips, Crowley placed a tender kiss on Aziraphale's forehead. His smile grew as he moved to kiss at the angel's eyelids, then his nose, and lastly, each furry cheek. When the demon finally met to capture the angel's lips again, Aziraphale was laughing happily, gently pushing at Crowley's chest.
"Quit it, you," the angel said playfully, a smile still wide and full of joy.
"Angel," Crowley began, remembering what it was suddenly that he wanted to do more than anything else. "Can we go lay down for a snuggle?"
All Crowley wanted was to hold Aziraphale in his arms. He watched as his angel's expression changed from happiness and excitement to mild surprise.
"What? You just got here," Aziraphale eyebrows furrowed as he protested pathetically. "At least try the scones or the muffins I made."
Crowley never had much of an appetite to begin with, something which he attested to his reptilian nature. He scrunched up his nose like a child saying 'Ew' to a particularly nasty helping of greens. It wasn't far off from how he felt. He wanted to snuggle, dammit.
"'M not hungry, though," he muttered, jutting out his lower lip a bit in a pout. He knew that Aziraphale wasn't going to let this go so easily, but he hoped his sad face would work on him.
"Crowley," Aziraphale warned, and the demon let out a groan.
"Alright, fine," Crowley conceded. "If I promise to eat a lemon poppy muffin, could we please go lay down for a nap and a snuggle?"
Aziraphale huffed, and Crowley knew he'd won the argument. He was doing his best to look put off, but the demon knew it did not bother him.
"Oh, alright," Aziraphale said after a moment. "We can have a nap and a snuggle if you promise to eat at least one muffin. And, as long as I'm allowed to bring a book."
A beaming smile broke out across Crowley's face, a silent victory pose happening in his head. He loved winning, even small things, but he had to keep it cool.
"You can take two books," he said, feeling like that was a fair tradeoff. Two books would keep Aziraphale preoccupied for a while. Enough for Crowley to get a decent amount of snuggle time in.
"And," Aziraphale started, a rather serious look upon his face. "You promise to clean your face up."
Bullocks, Crowley thought as the smile dropped from his face. He reached a hand up to touch his own face and gave a pout. He thought he looked dashing, with a week's worth of growth. He was considering growing it out to the length that Aziraphale had his. "Well, that's not fair. Don't you like it?"
"It's lovely, really," Aziraphale said sincerely and Crowley could tell he really meant it. But he could also hear the silent but that came with it. "But if you intend to rub your face all over me like a cat, I'd much prefer not to get a beard burn."
Well, that's hardly fair, Crowley thought to himself. It's not that scruffy. He might not have been applying beard oil like Aziraphale had been, but he had taken care of himself. He valued what good looks he had. After a moment, he sighed, and gave in.
"Fine, fine," he said reluctantly as he turned around and swiped a muffin off the cooling rack. He took a large bite out of the muffin, initially making a show to really chew at it. But the more he chewed, the more he tasted, and the more surprised he grew. It was really good. Not just good, but delicious. It was the first thing Aziraphale had ever made for him with him in mind, and Crowley thought it was absolutely amazing.
"It's tasty. Wonderful job, angel," he said around a mouthful of muffin, making sure not to choke.
Aziraphale dropped his shoulders and Crowley watched as he breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed he had been really worried. He had worked hard to make something that Crowley would enjoy, especially since the demon knew what food meant to his angel. The sentiment spoke volumes.
"Oh, good," Aziraphale gave a shaky smile. "I was quite worried I would have mucked up the recipe."
It wasn't but a moment later that the kettle whistles, letting both parties know that the water has reached its boiling point. They both turned to look at the burner, but Aziraphale was quicker than Crowley. He wordlessly moved around the demon to turn off the burner, then removed the kettle from the hot surface.
"Well, come on," Aziraphale said, a sly smirk on his face as he held out his hand to the demon. Crowley grinned back, moving past the island to take the angel's hand in his own. He happily laced their fingers together as he continued to munch on his muffin, rather enjoying the fact that they were about to have a nap and a snuggle. He was so excited, he could hardly contain himself. It turned out patience could, at times, pay off. Crowley noticed this was one of those times.