Work Text:
Crowley hadn't expected the pleasant smell that wafted through the air as he walked through the bookshop door at nearly 10pm. Even less did he expect the sight that greeted him when he arrived in the kitchen.
Aziraphale was stirring what appeared to be a stew in a pan, his back to him. Crowley approached his lover, wrapped his arms around his waist, and asked quietly, "Is this for me?"
Aziraphale replied, leaning into the embrace, "Of course. Who else would it be for?"
Crowley replied sheepishly, "But I told you not to wait for me."
It had been another one of those long days at the flower shop, between customer after customer and the shop's bookkeeping, where he'd fallen behind. He had just managed to drop by the bookshop in the afternoon and warned Aziraphale that he wouldn't be home for dinner.
Aziraphale continued to stir the pot, the smell of which made Crowley's mouth water as he gently replied, "Tell Muriel thanks, they were the one who told me you skipped lunch."
He turned off the stove and turned in Crowley's embrace to wrap his arms around his lover's neck.
Crowley kissed his forehead before replying softly, "You're both angels, and I'm hungry indeed."
He pressed his lips to Aziraphale's in another light kiss, and when he pulled away, his lover chuckled softly, "You know, Crowley, there's another way to avoid this.... Eat your lunch and you won't be so hungry."
He ran his hands through Crowley's hair to bring his face closer to his own and in turn pressed his lips to his lover's in a tender kiss that lingered for a few seconds.
When they parted, Crowley replied softly, "You're right about lunch, but there's a hunger no meal can ever satisfy."
Aziraphale looked at him quizzically, so Crowley leaned in again and murmured against his lips, "My hunger for you," then captured his lover's lips again in a kiss as tender as the previous ones, but this time tinged with passion.
Aziraphale didn't protest; he was always ready to give much of himself to satisfy his lover's hunger.
In every possible way.