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You roll over in bed to look at her, your heart soaring in your chest like a songbird. You have never gotten used to her, you haven’t in six thousand years and you know you won’t for six thousand years more.
She’s just on the cusp of sleep, her breathing slow and steady, her eyelids fluttering. Laying on her side, with her slender arms tucked under her head and her long, loose ginger hair cascading over them, she looks like a Renaissance painting, a reclining nymph. You’re impressed by how many paintings of Mary Magdalene manage to capture her likeness so well.
The low, yellow light and the way her hair falls across her face lend a softness to her sharp features, fuzzy shadows marking the lines of her cheekbones, the curve of her nose, the little wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. You can only imagine for now the brilliant yellow of her irises behind her lids like molten starlight.
You reach out and carefully brush a stray lock of hair away from her face, making her twitch. She smiles without opening her eyes, leaning her cheek into your hand.
“Hey,” she murmurs, her low, soft voice making your stomach twist into knots, even after all this time. You move closer to her, putting your arms around her.
“Hey,” you repeat, giggling at how her words sound in your voice. You stroke your fingers through her hair reverently, matching your breathing to hers. “Hey, pretty girl.”
That makes her open her eyes, just a little, to look up at you with a lazy, sleepy smirk. “Hey now. That’s my line.”
You brush your lips against her forehead, tracing her hairline with your mouth. “Well, it’s not my fault if it fits you, too.” You close your eyes and breathe in the smell of her, warm and smoky and wonderful. “I mean it, Crowley, you’re so beautiful.”
She squirms in your arms, leaning her head against your chest and reaching her arms up to touch your face. “Mm, takes one to know one, I s’pose.”
You flush despite yourself, and she smiles widely. You can feel her warm, fuzzy love for you, filling the air, as if the look in her eyes wasn’t enough to tell you.
You tilt her chin up further with two fingers and kiss her mouth, soft, soft, soft. You feel her nose press against your throat, and yours into hers, and it’s so incredibly intimate you feel hot all over.
“You have no idea,” you mumble, stroking her cheek idly with your fingers. “ No idea how lovely you are.”
She closes her eyes and leans into your touch, making a soft, pleased noise in the back of her throat. “Tell me.”
You keep petting her hair while you tell her, kissing her scalp between words. “You’re so especially beautiful in this light, darling, with your hair down like this. You look so soft and lovely like a painting, like Venus, like Guinevere.” You trace her sideburns, her cheekbones, her jaw. “I see you like this, and I would fight a thousand battles for you.” You press your lips into the place between her eyes, right at the top of her nose. “You’re my Helen of Troy.”
She scrunches up her nose and twists in your arms, laughing. “What is that, the Odyssey ?”
You smile against her, squeezing your arms around her narrow waist. “I could start with Shakespeare. Yeats. Burns. Keats.” You kiss her between each name, making her squirm. “ Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art- ”
She leans back against your chest, hooking her arms up around your neck. “Use your own words, angel. I’ve seen what you can write.”
You ease her arms back down so you can touch her hands. “Look at how lovely,” you murmur, rubbing your thumb over her knuckles. “Stars and nebulae and comets could only come from such lovely hands.” You kiss behind her ear, breathing her in. “And your eyes are like starlight, like sunsets. I must be the luckiest woman, the luckiest creature in the world, since I get to see them.”
She wriggles in your arms, her joy radiating off of her like a far-away cosmic sun. “Oh, stop,” she whines, even though absolutely everything else is screaming Keep going.
“I love your nose,” you continue, pressing your mouth to each area in turn. “I love your lips. I love your jaw.” You brush her hair back and kiss down her throat, her skin fabulously soft and sweet-tasting. You kiss her larynx, feeling her happy little noises rumble through your lips. “I love this. What do humans call it? Adam’s apple?”
Although you can’t see her face, you can feel her sneer. “Never liked that term.”
You smile into her skin. “Should be Eve’s apple, shouldn’t it?”
She snorts. “Should be my apple, really.”
You giggle and kiss the spot again. “Well then, darling, I love your serpent’s apple.” You nuzzle into the crook of her neck and let your hands roam down her ribs, her waist, her hips.
“I love how you look in your sleep top,” you say, and she laughs, because she knows you mean the tiny peaks of her breasts under the black fabric. You cup one chastely, pressing sweet kisses to her neck, rubbing your thumb in circles. She’s very warm tonight, which isn’t typical, but lately, she’s always been warm when she’s with you.
You push her top up just enough to run your hand down her belly, marveling in the softness of her skin. “I love how soft you are here,” you croon, tracing circles around her navel with your index finger. “I love that you let me touch you here, touch you all over. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to open up to me, to know that I would keep you safe.”
She rolls her head back against your shoulders and whimpers, although she’d hate that you call it that. “God, Aziraphale…”
Your body thrums with electricity when you hear your name on her tongue, the gentle reverence with which she says it. You pull her up just enough so you can nuzzle into her neck, your hands still splayed against her stomach. “Do I make you feel safe? Do I make you happy? Tell me, darling, tell me.” You know you do, but you need to hear her say it, for her to recognize just how much you love her.
She squirms, gripping your forearms with her long, lovely fingers. “Angel, angel…” she murmurs, her voice low and thick with joy. “If you asked me to pull the moon out of the sky, I would.” She tilts her head back and kisses at your cheek, her breath hot and sweet. “All I want is to make you happy.”
You run your fingers down the line of soft ginger hair on her belly, watching her muscles twitch under your touch. “And all I need to be happy is you.”
You feel her grin against your temple, wry and mischievous and beautiful. “And all your books. And restaurants where they know your name. And blue eyeshadow. And tequila sunrises with little umbrellas.”
You lightly swat at her arms with the back of your hand as she bursts into wild giggles, undulating like the snake she is with glee. “I'm trying to be romantic,” you scold her, trying not to give in to her infectious laughter. “You ruin everything.”
Her laughter subsides just long enough for her to cup your cheek and stroke your skin with her thumb. “Can’t say I'm sorry, love. Thwarting you is in my nature.”
You bury your smile in her shoulder and you feel her pride, her love, her happiness at being able to make you laugh. You glance up and she's positively glowing, her cheeks flushed pink in the dim light, her smile wide, showing all her sharp teeth and crinkling up her eyes. You spin her in your arms so you're chest-to-chest, belly-to-belly with her, and you kiss her mouth, wishing desperately you could live in this moment of her happiness forever, that you could make her feel this way always.
“I love you so much,” you whisper into the warm, sweet air between you when you pull away, the tip of your nose pressed against hers. “Oh, Crowley, I've loved you for so long.”
She flushes deep, her pretty mouth trembling into a watery smile. “Lord, angel, if all I had to do was let my hair down-”
“Ssh.” You put a finger to her lips before she can babble her head off. “Live in this moment.”
She stops talking, looking at you with eyes yellow from lid to lid. Her dark lashes flutter as a lock of hair falls into her face and you brush it away as gently as possible. You put your hands on her waist again and pull her closer, letting her tuck her head into your chest.
“I love every single inch of you,” you continue where you left off, stroking down the back of her neck, feeling the bumps of the bones in her spine. “I love the feathers on your back and the scales on your feet. I love how you laugh and how you cry and how you always stand up for yourself. For me. For us. ” You squeeze her tighter, burying your face in her hair, trying to focus all your thoughts on the way her body feels against yours. “I admire you more than anything, more than anyone I've ever met. You're so strong and brave and beautiful.” You hear your voice crack before you can stop it. “Oh, gosh, you know all this already. But once you get me started I just can't stop.”
She's trembling ever so slightly in your arms. You can't be sure, but you think she might be crying. “Thank you,” she says softly, and you've never heard her sound so vulnerable. She wraps her long, slim legs around your hips and her arms up around your neck, curling herself around you like a cat.
“Get some sleep now, dear,” you say, scratching gently against the nape of her neck with your nails. “I'll still be here in the morning. Maybe I'll write you some poetry.”
She groans, but you know if you ever did write her something, she'd treasure it with her life.
You twist her loose curls around your fingers, rubbing your other palm against the exposed small of her back. “Goodnight, starlight,” you murmur, your voice light and teasing. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” She makes muffled little happy noises, wiggling against you. “ How beautiful you are, my darling, how beautiful! Your eyes are like doves. ”
She hisses and buries her face into your chest, recoiling away from your mouth. “Oh, for Satan's sake. Really?”
You can't keep yourself from laughing, patting her shoulder blades apologetically. “I can't help myself. It's my nature.” You tilt your head to kiss her arms, still around your neck. “I'll be quiet now, darling. I'll see you in the morning.”
She snuffles softly, grunting in affirmation, and you feel her breathing slow. You just pet her hair until you know for certain she's asleep, content to lose yourself in the ethereal beauty of your Venus, your Helen of Troy, your Guinevere, your Crowley.