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He really did look like an angel. Aziraphale that is, not Crowley. Never Crowley. He was a black smudge. A dirty, dastardly demon. But Aziraphale… Aziraphale was perfect.
And he was an angel.
In the end, “Ngk,” was the only thing Crowley could get out.
Stupid. That’s all you could say to this wonderful man?
But it was plenty for Aziraphale. Aziraphale the angel. He lit up, glowing with adoration, grin beautiful enough to convert even the most devoted satanist.
“I take it you like it.” He said, extending a perfectly manicured hand to Crowley.
Crowley took that hand, that soft, warm hand and brought it to his lips. “Yes.”
He’s too fucking perfect.
The ‘it’ in question was a beautiful tartan skirt in Aziraphale’s signature pattern. He had forgone the matching bow tie. Instead, a glittering chain of silver rested around his collar, the same necklace Crowley had given him for Christmas.
Crowley loved to pretend to despise tartan, but his angel had corrupted him with that tantalizing bow tie. That one that was just constantly begging him to reach out and tug it off (once he figured out the knot of course).
Honestly, how was he supposed to resist when it was right below that delicious stretch of pale skin that was just begging to be marked by wandering lips.
Crowley jerked his head to the side. If we’re ever going to make it to the park I’ve got to stop that.
He blinked hard and found Aziraphale’s softly questioning eyes, gently crinkled at the edges by the soft smile on his face.
“Sorry, dijaya say something?” He asked, trying to recover from that laps in present-ness.
“I asked if you were ready to go.”
So pretty.
“Yes.”
Aziraphale grinned, lighting up even more, and took his hand, tugging him out the door, only stopping to retrieve the wicker basket that was presumably filled with food.
They walked through the chilly February afternoon, sun reflecting off windows and cars.
Aziraphale’s arm was around Crowley, hand resting on his waist and thumb rubbing small circles against his hip bone.
Crowley let himself be guided down the familiar streets to St. James park, vaguely wondering how Aziraphale wasn’t freezing in that skirt, especially when the cold was already biting at Crowley’s skin, and he was wearing pants.
Their bench was free, of course, and Aziraphale lead them straight to it, spreading out their food in the space between their two respective seats.
Earlier that day, Aziraphale had snuck off to Nina and Maggie’s and returned with the basket appearing significantly fuller than when he had left.
Before long, the bench was piled with chocolate, oysters, eccles cakes, fresh fruit, cheese, prosciutto and dried apricots. It was more food than any being would ever be able to eat in one sitting. Crowley raised his eyebrows.
Aziraphale felt Crowley’s gaze and looked up, meeting his eyes with a guilty expression. “They were very insistent you see, they kept offering and I would have felt terrible if I denied their good deeds.” He looked down, expression shifting into something slightly more self-deprecating. It was a look Crowley directly related to Aziraphale’s ex bosses. He didn’t like that look. “I suppose I didn’t really need to bring it all, I’m sor-“
Aziraphale let out a soft, surprised noise when Crowley kissed him. It was just a brief press of the lips (they weren’t much for PDA), but Crowley wanted his angel to stop talking like that.
Aziraphale’s eyes were wide with surprise when Crowley pulled back.
Shit, I shouldn’t have done that. I fucked this up. I should have asked him instead of just doing that. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I could have interrupted him with words, not with THAT.
Crowley met Aziraphale’s eyes, apologies already on his lips.
Before he could open his mouth, Aziraphale reached a hand out, resting a finger on Crowley’s lips. Shit, shit, shit. Crowley mentally whacked himself. Stupid. Just one touch from Aziraphale turned his entire fucking brain off.
Aziraphale, that angel, smirked. “Careful. Or I’ll have to repay the favor.”
Crowley really needed to turn his brain off.
But that was quite hard to do when an angel was gently pressing his finger past his lips and running it over the sharp edges of his teeth in the middle of St James Park.
He slid his finger down, brushing over Crowley’s bottom lip before pulling away quickly, a rueful look on his face.
“Sorry,” he said, dipping his head. “I believe I got a bit carried away.”
“No.” Crowley said a little too quickly. “That was good.” He clarified, refusing to meet Aziraphale’s eyes from behind his glasses.
Aziraphale’s smile reappeared, eyes crinkling. “Well then, shall we?” he asked, gesturing to the spread of food in front of them. Crowley casually noted that most were aphrodisiacs.
He reached into the open picnic basket nestled in the grass, finding exactly what he was looking for, a wine glass.
He poured two glasses of Châteauneuf de Pas as Aziraphale took his first bite of an eccles cake, a perfectly soft moan escaping from behind those stupidly perfect lips.
Fuck.
“This is really quite good. Here,” Aziraphale offered, holding the plate out to Crowley, “Try some.”
Crowley would have done just about anything in that moment, but, as it was, he reached out and took one of the small treats.
He took a bite and it was good but not nearly as good as the look of quiet adoration on Aziraphale’s face as he waited to see Crowley’s reaction. He took another bite, just to see that angel’s smile again and grinned around the mouthful of cake.
Aziraphale bridged the small gap between the two entities with an outstretched hand, resting it on Crowley’s thigh, thumb softly rubbing against the denim in a place which would have caused a slight problem if Crowley hadn’t already switched his Effort after his easily distracted mind had first betrayed him in the bookshop.
Crowley eyed the angel, who continued dining as if he wasn’t actively torturing the poor demon.
Crowley grinned, taking the challenge and picking up his glass. He watched Aziraphale’s carefully regarding gaze as he brought the glass to his lips. He tipped it up and swallowed the dark red liquid while Aziraphale’s eyes slid down his face, following the movement of his throat.
“Dastardly demon.”
Crowley smirked as Aziraphale removed his hand from his thigh, reaching for a strawberry. “Aren’t I just.”
While they continued to enjoy the earthly delights, any human who tried to enter the park suddenly remembered a far more important thing they had to do and quickly turned from the entrance, leaving the trees and the pond and the birdsong that wrapped the bench by the water in a soft, gentle breeze to the angel and demon sitting all wrapped up in that beauty and wonder. But of course neither of them noticed much apart from the loveliness of each other.