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“Crowley, my dear.” Aziraphale’s voice cut through the silence that had fallen upon the bookshop as SoHo settled into evening around them. The quiet bustle of the streets outside and laughter spilling out from the pub across the road every time the doors opened. The fireplace inside set ablaze as Aziraphale had settled into his armchair with a book, of which Crowley quickly found his own place on the Angel’s lap, limbs tangling and falling over the arm of the chair as Aziraphale allowed him to find a more comfortable position. His arms wrapped around the demon and his book still precariously perched between his the fingers of one hand while the other lazily carded through Crowley’s hair.
“Ngk.” Crowley responded, a scowl taking over his features and his eyes squeezing tighter shut, face turning impossibly so and burying further into Aziraphale’s neck. “No.” He continued, not even knowing what Aziraphale was going to say and frankly, not caring in the slightest. He knew the tone of voice, knew the sound of the book closing a few minutes prior and being placed on the desk. Of the way soft fingers slowed their travel through tressels of ember that signaled the end of the evening and that Crowley would have to get up.
“Crowley.” Aziraphale said again with a gentle sigh, his newly freed hand resting along the small of Crowley’s back, rising up with soft strokes and falling back down. The angel tilted his head, lips making sweet contact with the exposed flesh of the demon’s shoulder and continued, “Dearest.” The words pressed to the flesh in a wave of warm breath, seeping into the skin and resting along the fabricated muscle and sinew that laid beneath before settling into the bones that were very much in existence inside of the demon.
“Ngk.” Crowley echoed his earlier statement. A small span of silence and then, “I’m too comfortable.” He protested weakly.
Aziraphale laughed, “You certainly do not look comfortable, darling.” Aziraphale responded, his hand traveling down the length of Crowley’s side. Instead of stopping at the small of his back to repeat the motion, Aziraphale allowed his hand to travel down his waist, fingers spreading along his rear, causing Crowley to gasp. But Aziraphale did not cease, instead, continued to follow the length of his thigh and down to his leg where the arm of the chair met the arch of his popliteal.
“Angel.” Crowley whispered, eyes cracking open just the slightest bit and finding the place where Aziraphale’s hand met his knee. His eyes flitting up and meeting Aziraphale’s.
And Crowley wanted to scowl. Aziraphale’s eyes were aglow and bright, as if the stars themselves were trapped within the ethereal blue of his irises. “Crowley.” Aziraphale said again, voice dropping lower as he leaned in. Crowley wanted to curse, to slip into snake form and slither away. If there was one thing that Crowley could not do, it was to deny Aziraphale anything with his eyes twinkling just so. The very notion of it; the very existence of it; ought to be an act of sin itself. “Let’s head to bed, yeah?” Aziraphale said gently, as if Crowley was some wild animal that may be spooked if one spoke to loudly in their general direction.
And oh, did Aziraphale’s eyes sparkle, shades of blue dancing just for Crowley as their witness in its sea of cerulean. So Crowley nodded his head, and Aziraphale smiled, eyes twinkling for all the world to see. Crowley tightened his hold, a single, drawn out noise of “Ngk?” and Aziraphale laughed,
“Of course, love.” He replied, shifting his hands along Crowley’s body before standing up and from his chair, “I’ve got you.” He continued, voice dropping an octave, “Would you be a dear and get the lights for me, Crowley?” He asked as he approached the spiral staircase that led to their upstairs flat. “As you can tell my hands are terribly full right now.” He explained.
“Ngk.” Crowley whined in protest, his hand flicking up with a snap from where it was curled around Aziraphale’s neck as the lights dimmed around the bookshop.
“Very good. Thank you, dear.” Aziraphale said, rewarding the demon with another tender press of his lips against exposed flesh. Crowley whined beneath him as Aziraphale began to climb the stairs. The aged wrought iron creaking beneath them and Aziraphale made a mental note to oil them tomorrow.
“Here we are, dearest.” Aziraphale announced as he entered their bedroom, padding over to the extravagant bed Crowley had transported over from his Mayfield flat. Carefully he arranged themselves on the mattress, Crowley making another voice of discontent at being jostled followed by another snap of demonic energy, miracleing the two of them into their sleep clothes.
“Why thank you, Crowley.” Aziraphale whispered, “You definitely took out a lot of the hard work.” He continued, smiling wildly as Crowley leaned his head back and opened his eyes to look at him. “There you are, my wily demon.” His eyes twinkled on their own accord and Crowley couldn’t help the droopy smile that spread across his lips or the way he melted against Aziraphale as they kissed properly for the first time since Crowley made himself comfortable on the chair.