Work Text:
As soon as Crowley walked through the door of the bookshop, Aziraphale could see that it had been an exhausting day for his lover. He could tell by the slump in his shoulders, the tension in his jaw, the tired lines on his face.
But still, when Crowley turned to him, he smiled, that smile meant only for Aziraphale, and even if it wasn't as bright as usual, it was still there.
The florist approached Aziraphale, dropped his head on his shoulder and murmured in a tone that didn't hide his weariness, "It's so good to be home."
Aziraphale pressed a kiss to the red hair and replied softly, "Welcome home, my love. "
Then, cupping Crowley's face between his hands, he planted another kiss, this time on the forehead, and continued, "You should take a shower and put on something comfortable."
Crowley hummed, turned his head against his lover's hand and kissed the palm before pulling away and starting to unbutton his shirt on the way to the bathroom.
As soon as he heard the sound of the shower, Aziraphale prepared the fluffiest bath sheet for Crowley, then took the laundry out of the dryer before starting to fold it in the bedroom.
Moments later, as he finished folding, Crowley entered the bedroom and wrapped his arms around his lover from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder.
He sighed, "Sometimes I wonder why I do this job.... "
Turning in Crowley's arms, Aziraphale tucked a damp lock of hair behind his lover's ear and said with a smile, "Because you love flowers. And because you like making people happy with them."
He saw Crowley's eyes slide behind him and his lover pout a little before saying in a slightly reproachful voice, "It's not your turn to do the laundry this week."
Ever since Crowley had moved into Aziraphale's apartment, the bookseller had found it amusing that his lover insisted on an equal share of the household chores. Aziraphale had tried to explain that he didn't mind taking on more, since he didn't have as busy a schedule as his lover, but Crowley had been adamant.
So they did the chores together on the weekends, and one week one would do the cooking and the other the laundry, and so on.
However, Aziraphale was not fooled, he knew there was another reason behind it, and knowing his lover well enough by now, he had an idea what it was, so this was the perfect opportunity to address the problem.
He stroked his lover's cheek as he replied softly, "I know."
Crowley frowned and asked, "Then why did you do it?"
Aziraphale replied as gently as ever, "Because you work hard, because you have less time right now and I have a little more. Because that's who we are, complementary. Because I want to take care of you, sweetheart. Because I also know how you function, I know you're convinced that you have to do your share of the work to earn your place here."
He ran his hand through Crowley's hair, and when his hand reached the nape of his lover's neck, he pressed gently so that the florist brought his face close to his. When their lips were close, he murmured against Crowley's, "Because I love you."
Crowley could not resist this last whispered argument and surrendered. It was he who closed the distance and pressed his lips to Aziraphale's. The kiss lasted, and when they parted to catch their breath, Crowley pulled back a little and said mischievously, "So I can keep leaving my socks lying around?"
"Don't exaggerate either!"
Crowley laughed at his lover's fake scolding pout, and Aziraphale, seeing that his lover was so relaxed, told himself that he would continue to do the best he could to support him.
Even pick up his dirty socks.