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Aziraphale led Crowley into the hotel room, regretting the conversation he'd started in the elevator, but unfortunately it didn't seem as though the demon were going to let it go.
"I don't see what the problem is," Crowley said. "They were in the cafe at the table beside mine. We were waiting for our partners, so we were chatting. I do it all the time. It's more interesting than watching the traffic, even when it's a chaotic mess."
"It wasn't the conversation I was curious about," he said, ignoring the little thrill of pleasure he got from hearing Crowley refer to him as his partner. "It was the subject of the conversation. I just wondered if you often discussed intimate relationship details with a stranger."
"Well, yeah. I mean, I'm a demon who worked in temptations. That wasn't my particular area, but we were all supposed to nudge them along to someone whose it was if the opportunity presented."
"And they really just open up to you like that? That seemed more like a conversation one would have with a friend than a stranger."
"I've just got one of those faces, I guess," Crowley smirked. "Came in really handy in my old line of work. It's way easier to tempt someone who's just told you what they want or what they wish they could do."
Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, but only to earn the smirk he knew he'd get in return. When Crowley did, he smiled and shook his head at him, but he no longer felt obliged to complain simply because it was expected.
"Anyway," Crowley said, "I was doing them a favour."
"A favour?" Aziraphale asked as he set his newly purchased books on the small hotel room table. "Now I am curious. How was that particular temptation a favour?"
"They were talking about a private fantasy, one they refused to tell to their apparently understanding partner. So I nudged toward telling them. I mean, finally talking worked wonders for us. And, really, that shouldn't even need a nudge. If you've got a fantasy your partner would be happy to fulfill, why wouldn't you tell them?"
Aziraphale gave a noncommittal noise he hoped would be taken as an agreement, but there was no response. When he looked over, he found the demon paused in the process of taking off his coat and watching Aziraphale with complete focus. He was absolutely still, and Aziraphale was unsettlingly reminded of a nature program he had watched once in his barber's, where a snake had held itself before striking at its prey. Crowley would not, of course, hurt him, but that didn't mean it wasn't accurate.
"Aziraphale," Crowley said, drawing his name out. "Do you have a fantasy you haven't told me about?"
He never should have started this line of inquiry. He should have just let Crowley's conversation in the cafe go by without comment. But he hadn't, and they were in their own conversation now. "Not really a fantasy," he hedged.
Crowley raised his eyebrows, dropped his coat on the floor, and turned to face Aziraphale directly. "Then what is it, really?"
"Just an occasional passing thought," he said as he stepped around the table and chair, looking for something to distract the demon, but they'd been selecting rooms that were rather bereft of entertainment since they usually only spent the evenings inside. Also, Crowley wasn't as easy to distract as one might imagine when what caught his attention greatly interested him.
"A pleasant thought?"
"Yes." At least, when he left himself entertain it, rather than pushing it out of his mind.
"Something you want?"
"Maybe. I think. Yes."
"Something I can do for you?"
"If you decided you wanted to."
"It's sounds as though this might just be in fantasy territory." He stalked closer and Aziraphale gave up the hope he'd let this go. "Why haven't you said anything?"
"It's not important," he insisted. "And I didn't want to... give a conflicting message."
"Oh, now you have to tell me," Crowley said. "Because I'm just going to be coming up with my own possibilities, and we both know I have a very active imagination. Wouldn't want it to get away from me, would you?"
Aziraphale sighed, but perhaps it was better to talk about these sorts of things. If they'd learned nothing else at their recent retreat, they'd learned open communication was best. And as embarrassing as it potentially was, he didn't think Crowley would tease him overly much.
"Angel?"
"It's really nothing. It's just that I have, now and again, spent some time thinking about our trip to the convent. Or what was it? The paint ball facility."
Crowley tilted his head, a little flicker of confusion passing over his face. "Something there?"
"Yes. There was a moment where I said you really were a nice person deep down, and you objected. By-the-by, you really must tell me why you used to have such a problem with that."
"Never," Crowley said. His confusion had cleared rather quickly, and the smirk returned. "Don't change the subject."
"Well, you were upset and you..."
"Threw you against the wall?"
"Pressed me against the wall," he corrected. "I don't think there was any throwing involved. But we were certainly closer than we usually got at the time. Enough the former satanic nun thought she was interrupting something else entirely. So I have, occasionally, wondered what it would have been like if she had interrupted an intimate moment like she thought. If you'd decided to kiss me then. It seemed like a position that might lend itself to that."
"That absolutely counts as a fantasy," Crowley concluded, with the little nose scrunch Aziraphale was certain he didn't realize he still did at times. "But why would telling me that give a conflicting message?"
"It's really not all that different from the first time you actually kissed me. And I am on record as having not appreciated that one."
Crowley tilted his head. "Context matters, angel. I might've been expressing my annoyance at your stubborn insistence on calling me nice, but we weren't arguing. And if I had kissed you then, it would not have been part of that annoyance. It would have been because you throughly distracted me from it."
"Oh. I suppose I never considered it in that light."
"Now that you have," Crowley said as he slinked forward. "Given this is something I now also want to know, shall we find out what that would have been like?"
Aziraphale was suddenly quite aware of how close he was to the wall, how it wouldn't take more than a few steps for Crowley to press him against it, and… "Perhaps it's best if we do."
A grin was all the warning he got before Crowley rushed forward, grabbing his coat the way he had back in the hallway, and the same thrill of excitement ran through him as he once again felt a wall against his back and Crowley's body so close to his own. Their faces were close enough he could almost see Crowley's eyes through the dark lenses of his sunglasses. Crowley paused for a moment, maybe waiting to see if Aziraphale changed his mind, but he didn't. Instead, all he was thinking was the same thought that had surprised him the first time, and this time, he didn't have to keep silent.
"Please."
In answer, Crowley's mouth pressed against his own, rougher than their second kiss and as insistent as the first, as though he'd been unable to stop the impulse. This kiss was passion and intensity, like the first, but there was no desperation. Instead, was as full of joy as the second, because they were free to do this, and love, because that was part of everything with them. The mix of emotions shot through Aziraphale, and he moaned into the kiss, returning them as well as he could, but it was like being in the centre of a thunderstorm. He reached up and clung to Crowley's shoulders, pulling him even closer, though it seemed his legs had gone weak and he was certain it was only the press of Crowley's body that kept him standing.
When Crowley pulled back, it was only just far enough for Aziraphale to see the curve of his lips as he asked, "How did that compare to the fantasy?"
"Far better," Aziraphale admitted, and he couldn't even be upset at how flustered he sounded.
Crowley's smirk was entirely too self-satisfied, but he had rather earned it. "Then what would you say, if—understanding I'll keep it far away from any arguments—this and other spontaneous demonstrations of affection were the sort of things that happened on occasion, as the mood takes us?"
"I think that would be quite agreeable," he said, unable to keep a serious face and therefore making the understatement obvious.
Crowley chuckled, then leaned forward so his breath ghosted over Aziraphale's skin as he whispered in his ear, "And that's why you tell your fantasies to your partner."
"You were right, dear," he admitted, which was apparently enough for Crowley to kiss him again. Aziraphale closed his eyes and relaxed into the embrace as he thought that, when it came to some things, it was far better when he was wrong.