Work Text:
Aziraphale hummed to himself as he poured tea from the kettle and into his mug. He heard a quiet shuffling noise behind him, and a general mumble, and he perked up slightly, a happy smile twitching over his soft features.
“Good morning, dear,” he murmured quietly, not even bothering to turn around as he busied himself with preparing his tea. Crowley, who had emerged from their bedroom behind him and out into their small kitchen in their cottage, wrapped his bare arms around the angel’s middle, nuzzling close wordlessly with a tiny, contented whine.
“Sleep well, my love?” Aziraphale asked fondly, giving a contented little wriggle in Crowley’s tight grip.
“Gnngrrng,” Crowley grumbled unintelligibly, pressing his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder and kissing his neck lazily. Aziraphale smiled tenderly, running an absentminded hair through the demon’s mussed-up hair, messy from sleep, and leaning his cheek against Crowley’s head, half-closing his eyes.
“Mornin’, angel,” came the demon’s gruff, husky reply after several minutes of blissful, peaceful silence, struck only by the chorus of nightingales outside. Crowley snuggled impossibly closer as Aziraphale murmured an affectionate, there you are, my dear and pressed a kiss to the side of his demon’s face.
The angel lifted up his mug of tea (three bags, after what they had gotten up to last night), offering him a sip; Crowley took it gratefully, Aziraphale gently tipping the mug against his demon’s lips as the serpent drank slowly, letting out a pleased little hum. It was Earl Grey; both of their favorites.
“Sleep well?” Aziraphale asked again, his cheeks dusted with a pleasant pink as Crowley kissed his soft jaw from behind with wet, gentle lips, breathing against him, a moment of pure love.
“Mmm.” Crowley hummed, bobbing his head against Aziraphale’s shoulder in a sort of half-nod. “T’was warm.”
“I do believe that that may have been due to you wrapping yourself around me like a little koala, my darling,” Aziraphale teased happily, petting his free hand through Crowley’s messy, rustic red hair. Aziraphale loved that about his lovely demon; how affectionate Crowley was, now that they were allowed to be.
Neither of them could seem to not touch one another, after being starved from it for so very, very long. It felt like mercy, that they could now, and they weren’t going to squander it, not for a moment. “Not that I don’t love it, of course.”
“Snshdhhh.” Crowley frowned, his eyes closed as he leaned into Aziraphale, his hands kneading along the curve of Aziraphale’s belly, not unlike a cat — and as if to prove that point, he seemed to be purring faintly, a quiet, pleased rumble in the back of his throat. “Shush, ang’l. M’not a koala.”
“I certainly beg to differ, my darling,” Aziraphale countered cheekily, knowing how much his demon loved it when he let himself be a bastard — and he was well-rewarded when Crowley wriggled a little upward, one of his hands moving up Aziraphale’s chest.
Crowley cupped the angel’s cheek almost reverently, and blue eyes sought out golden, love reflected in those shining pools.
The demon used his hand to guide Aziraphale’s head to tilt to one side, drawing him closer, and he kissed him, sweet and chaste, their noses brushing together, their cheeks pressing together as they kissed in the light of early morning streaming through the shimmering glass window above their sink, casting them in all the brightness of love.
“Love you,” Crowley mumbled sleepily when his lips slipped from Aziraphale’s and back down to the crook of the angel’s neck once more, and he nuzzled into him with a contented sigh and a tiny yawn. “Even if you’re a bassstard.”
“And I love you, my darling; my sweet, kind love,” Aziraphale cooed affectionately, reveling in the messy flop of Crowley’s hair, the delightful hissing lisp in his speech, the way he shivered when he yawned.
Oh, how he loved him.
He leaned his cheek against Crowley’s hair and closed his eyes, cherishing in the peaceful domesticity of these happy moments of their happy life — not filled with wariness, or fear, or uncertainty, but filled with joy, and happiness, and contentment to love.
