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A nightingale landed on the open window’s sill and started chirping a merry tune as the light, white curtains billowed in the warm June breeze. Aziraphale smiled at the bird from where he was lounging in his favourite chair before it took off again, disappearing into the immaculately blue summer sky.
The former angel’s smile didn’t falter and his gaze lingered on the open window, the book laying opened in his lap momentarily forgotten. His blue eyes were drawn to the sight of the spacious garden behind his little cottage – their cottage – and the vastness of the sea stretching out beneath the horizon behind it. Another breeze came in through the open window, carrying the scent of seasalt and wild flowers with it. Aziraphale took off his reading glasses and closed his eyes, taking in the quiet afternoon atmosphere, letting it wrap around him like a warm blanket.
It were moments like these that pleasantly reminded him why he’d risked his existence to save the earth twice.
After idly lingering in the moment for another deep breath or two he opened his eyes again and took back up his book with a fond little smile. Before he could resume his reading however, the garden door in the kitchen was opened with a loud bang and somebody called out:
”Angel!?”
”In the library, love”, Aziraphale answered without so much as a flinch or even lifting his head at that rather crude entrance. After some shuffling around and low cursing in the distance the door to the library, that had stood slightly ajar anyway, was opened fully and in sauntered a slightly disheveled retired demon.
When he was outside and tending to their garden, Crowley, thankfully, forewent his sleek and polished all black attire and opted for a ratty old band T-Shirt and some ancient, ripped jeans that he didn’t mind getting dirty. And dirty they got, but it wasn’t too bad today. Just some grass stains on the jean’s shins and a smudge of flower soil on his shoulder. His hair, which he had grown out again since they moved to the countryside, was haphazardly put up in a messy bun with several, fiery red strands sticking out at the nape of his neck.
He looked dashing, but he always did in Aziraphale’s – albeit slightly biased – eyes.
”Hello, my love”, he greeted his demon, beaming up at him with all the adoration and fondness he’d barely allowed himself to show in the past, that he could finally display without repercussions now.
”Hey, angel”, said Crowley, grinning. He took a step forward but halted when Aziraphale put up a hand to stop him.
”You took off your shoes in the kitchen, right?”, asked the angel hesitantly, craning his neck to get a look at his husband’s feet. Crowley scoffed.
”Of course, how could I forget how attached you are to that ratty old carpet”, he said, his tone slightly mocking, and lifted one foot to show the angel that it was shoeless, wiggling his toes under the sock for good measure. Aziraphale tutted with disapproval.
“It’s a real Persian and I had it from new!”, he reminded the other, feigning indignation, even as he smiled at Crowley when the demon made his way over to his chair. Crowley sank down to sit on the armrest of the chair, leaning down and brushing his lips against those of his husband. He slung his long, thin arms around Aziraphale’s shoulders as their lips lingered in their sweet, achingly soft touch. In turn, Aziraphale’s arms wandered around his middle, holding him in place but ready to draw him down into his lap if Crowley gave off the hint that he might be up to something of that avenue.
”I’ve got something for you”, the demon mumbled as he drew back out of the kiss after a few, golden seconds. Aziraphale, who’d expected some more teasing about him fussing about the carpet as soon as they stopped kissing, blinked up at him, taken aback.
”A gift? For me?”, he asked, cracking another big smile at his husband. Crowley did always spoil him so.
“You could call it that”, said Crowley, shrugging one shoulder. “It’s nothing huge, just a little thing.”
”You always say that and it has yet to be true about any of your gifts”, Aziraphale retorted, his smile never fading. Crowley blushed, not meeting his eyes and grumbling something unintelligible.
”So what is it?”, asked Aziraphale, rubbing his hands up and down his husband’s back affectionately, gazing up adoringly at his love.
”Well, you know I’ve been spending a lot of time in the greenhouse lately?”, Crowley asked, turning back to look at him.
”Indeed, I do know that”, said Aziraphale, pouting a little. “You were very preoccupied with that lately.”
”Oh yeah, have I been neglecting you, sweetheart?”, asked Crowley teasingly, bordering on coyly, and dragged his knuckles over Aziraphale’s cheek in a soothing caress, like a mocking offer of truce.
”Maybe a little”, conceded the angel, not letting up with the pouting and hitting his husband with his best puppy-dog eyes. They always worked in the past after all.
”Aww, don’t worry, darling, it’ll all be worth it”, cooed Crowley, leaning in for another, deeper kiss which Aziraphale returned enthusiastically.
”So you’ve been growing a new plant?”, asked the angel, a little breathlessly, when they parted again.
”Not just any plant”, Crowley replied cryptically with a grin. He let his arms fall from his husband’s shoulders and slipped off the chair’s armrest.
”Wait here, I’ll go get it. You have to close your eyes when I tell you!”, he said a little giddily, and hastened out of the room again. Aziraphale chuckled as he watched after him, a light blush on his plump cheeks and his heart beating faster with fondness for his ridiculous, wonderful partner.
It took merely a few minutes before there was another commotion coming from the kitchen and padding footsteps nearing the door to the library.
”You need to close your eyes now, angel! Ready?”, Crowley called, his voice coming in muffled from behind the door.
”Ready, love”, Aziraphale called back, closing his eyes and even putting his hands over them, just to be sure. He heard the door swing open and Crowley’s footsteps crossing the distance between them. He heard the tell-tale noises of something being put onto the small, wooden coffee table beside his chair.
”Alright, open your eyes”, Crowley whispered, the anticipation for his angel’s reaction audible in his voice.
Aziraphale let his hands fall from his face and opened his eyes.
”Oh…”, he breathed, captivated by what was in front of him.
Crowley had put a large vase on the coffee table. A vase that was filled with a bouquet of the most beautiful roses Aziraphale had ever seen. They had large, almost luscious blossoms and weren’t quite white, they had a lovely cream hue to them, with a hint of peach shining through from the stem. They seemed to almost glow in the golden sunlight light coming in from the window and were therefore in stark contrast to their deeply dark green leaves.
”Crowley”, Aziraphale breathed, standing up from his chair and stepping up to the coffee table to take in the bouquet’s beauty from up close.
”You like them?”, asked Crowley from beside him, his eyes never leaving his husband and his thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his pants, rocking slightly back and forth and obviously awaiting the angel’s words approval antstily.
”Like them, dear? I love them, they’re magnificent!”
Crowley let out a deep breath that he’d obviously been holding this entire time. He smiled, not a broad one but soft and incredibly fond, almost secret.
”I’m glad you like them, they’re for you.”
”What a wonderful gift, dear!”, Aziraphale praised and picked up the vase to put the bouquet into the sun on the window sill. “Such a lovely bouquet!”
”Oh, the gift’s not just the bouquet”, Crowley added hastily.
Aziraphale turned, frowning confusedly at him. Crowley gestured vaguely at the flowers.
”It’s the flower. I made it. For you.”
Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he turned to look at the bouquet, then back to Crowley and back to the flowers.
”You mean, you’ve spent all this time breeding these from new in our greenhouse!? For me!?”
”Yeah…”, said Crowley, sheepishly rubbing a hand over his neck.
”Oh Crowley… my love-“ This was one of these rare moments when Aziraphale was at a loss for words. He crossed the room with two long strides and cupped his husband's face before leaning in to kiss him senseless. Crowley hummed contently against his lips, slipping his hands around the small of Aziraphale’s back, returning the kiss with a small smirk.
”If you like that, wait ‘till you hear what name I’ve given them”, he mumbled against the angel’s lips, because Aziraphale refused to distance himself from him for more than two millimeters.
“What did you name them, dearest?”, asked Aziraphale, his curiosity peaking slightly but not enough to break off the kiss. Crowley took that task out of his hands as he drew back, smirking slyly at the little whine that elicited from Aziraphale. He didn’t stray too far at all though, rather leaning forward more to whisper into the angel’s ear:
”I called them ‘Aziraphale’.”
Aziraphale – the angel, not the flower – gasped and clutched at his husband’s shoulders to keep his knees from giving out under him.
”You didn’t-“
”Oh, I absolutely did”, said Crowley, a grin on his face when he drew back that Aziraphale wiped off instantly by basically jumping into his arms, seemingly determined to kiss the everloving daylights out of him.