Work Text:
The first time they kiss without thinking about kissing occurs on a Tuesday morning, around half past nine. It’s drizzling outside, there’s an obnoxious dog barking, and a fairly good busker with a guitar set up across the street. Crowley’s sprawled in his favourite spot in the bookshop, a leg hitched up to drape over the chair’s arm and his head tilted back as he leafs through the TV Times. Sometimes he contemplates broaching with Aziraphale the question of getting a permanent television somewhere in the bookshop or the rooms above so he isn’t constantly having to miracle one up every time he gets bored.But for now, he’s quite content reading up on all the gossip from the Bridgerton set and wondering if there’s any point in trying to stoke some new drama about the period inaccuracies on reddit.
Aziraphale appears on the spiral staircase with two books tucked under one arm, and a tea tray holding last night's empty cups. He descends easily and neither of them says a word.
Crowley looks up just as Aziraphale sweeps past him towards the little kitchen out the back, eyes taking in the usual outfit, the curls of his hair, and the softness of his face. Aziraphale's smiling, just a little, and starts humming something as he disappears from view.
Crowley reads another paragraph before Aziraphale reappears, Crowley pausing again to watch as he moves to retrieve his overcoat from near the door and pull it on. “I’m heading across town to meet with that dealer about the Luforn books I told you about. Anything you need while I’m out?”
Crowley never needs anything, but Aziraphale always asks, and Crowley hopes he’ll never stop. “Nothing I can think of.”
Aziraphale moves back to where Crowley’s sitting and leans down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. The way Crowley has to lean even further back, stretching his neck to meet him means the kiss is more upside down than right side up, but it’s still easy and natural and without thinking.
Aziraphale lingers for just an extra few moments, extending the kiss beyond a peck but choosing not to deepen it.
Then he pulls back, gives Crowley a warm smile, a playful salute, and a “Pip-pip.” Then he’s gone and Crowley goes back to reading his magazine without sparing a thought on kissing Aziraphale. Which in and of itself is really quite momentous.