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“Angel! Angel!”
From the sound alternately drawing nearer and retreating, Aziraphale could form a picture in his mind of what was going on: how Crowley paced back and forth on the wooden floor, his tail probably writhing like a snake. Maybe he circled the small coffee table for good measure.
“Angel,” he whines. “Angel, come down, I’ve got something to show you.”
On the sofa, the one his boyfriend so systematically stalked with impatience, lay their human, Anathema, sprawled on her back. And on her chest lay Aziraphale, massive against her small form, eyes closed, and lost in the sensation of the pets Ana kept doling out over his beautiful golden coat.
Aziraphale’s fur was supremely soft. If one wanted to experience an approximation of its softness, all one had to do was take a couple pounds of eiderdown and then puree it in a state-of-the-art mixer for an hour on the highest setting, then, carefully, coax the goopy result through a very fine-meshed sieve. It was religious-revelation-levels soft and that was before conditioning. Aziraphale tried not to be too prideful about it, although generally without much success. Thankfully his forgiving nature extended to himself as well, so that was alright.
“I've just gotten up here,” he murmured and turned over on his side to encourage Anathema to go for his flanks.
“Ugh, it always takes forever with you two.”
Crowley quickened his pace, and under Aziraphale Anathema stirred, which meant she still tried to reach out to Crowley even though he meticulously kept himself juuust distant enough for her to fall short.
Had she succeeded she would’ve made a happy noise and Crowley would’ve let out another whine for the ages.
Because Crowley’s first credo was: you couldn’t trust humans, full stop.
That wasn’t to say he didn’t make concessions sometimes.
“Look at this new collar, amazing, innit?” Crowley had asked him recently, strutting down the small hallway as if on a catwalk, turning this way and that, a purple-hued galaxy print around his neck. “Really brings out my eyes, don’t you think?”
Aziraphale concurred, although he admired Crowley’s amber irises with or without the collar. Two little pots of honey nestled deep in all that black fur, they were somehow very lickable to him— not that he would.
“See, not everything she does has some nefarious plan behind it,” he said as he circled Crowley to admire him thoroughly from every angle. “Maybe her only nefarious plan for us is to be well-cared for and pampered?”
Crowley considered this for a moment.
“Nah,” he said. “Seems unlikely.”
“But the collar—”
“Just because it lowkey slaps doesn’t mean she does, too.”
Aziraphale had no idea what Crowley meant by that phrase. He sniffed. It was such a pity that Crowley was so, dare he say it, paranoid about humans, no matter how much kindness they showed him.
“Well. You do look stately,” he said.
“Lucky you to have such a devilishly handsome man by your side.”
“Indeed, and so modest.”
Crowley chuckled and brushed their foreheads together for a moment.
“‘M not ungrateful, just cautious. S’better when it comes to them. Don’t wanna see you get hurt too, you’re my nine-lives-love after all, yeah?”
His dear could be so terribly sweet even though he liked to pretend otherwise. How had Aziraphale been supposed to not melt on the spot? Exactly.
Now Anathema lifted her head slightly. “Don't be jealous, Crowley. You could join us.”
“She has a point, you know.” Aziraphale stretched lazily. His head butted against her chin and she rubbed it in his fur.
Aziraphale also knew his love wasn’t fully on board with domestic living yet, although ever since the temperatures had dropped, and the wind had howled the bushes in the garden down to their naked branches, and cold drizzle permeated the air, and Ana’s nose would glow pink when she got home to the cottage, her breath visible while she struggled with the keys for a moment, Crowley’s complaints had become less frequent. He especially liked to bask in front of the fireplace. A shame she didn’t put the fire on often. She said it was bad for the environment and their lungs.
Aziraphale said, “ I'd love for you to—”
“Yeah, no thanks. I’d rather keep my dignity,” Crowley grumbled.
“Now that's rude, my dear.”
“It's different for you, angel. You’ve got no street cred to lose. Told you.”
Anathema set out to try again, her voice almost as soft as Aziraphale’s fur, although it wouldn’t help her. “Come here, Crowley, I won't bite, I promise.”
Aziraphale finally blinked his eyes open and found Crowley’s face full of suspicion, just as expected.
“Why do they think that's a fear I have?” Crowley was still pacing in front of the sofa. “It doesn't make sense, humans don't bite, everybody knows that. Why doesn’t she know that? Do you think it’s because she bites?” He stopped to ponder. “Would she bite me? Come to think of it, she is weird, even by human standards.”
“Mhhhmmm, don’t think she would,” Aziraphale said, swishing his tail over her shoulder. “You worry too much, she's harmless and friendly.”
“Harmly and friendless…” Crowley muttered so low that Aziraphale didn’t hear because otherwise he’d have tutted as only a British Shorthair could.
Crowley jumped up the sofa and landed between her fuzzy green socks. She wiggled her toes and he narrowed his eyes at her. “You tell me the second she bites or scratches you and I’ll—”
“Oh my god, are you smiling at me?” Ana stared with barely stifled excitement.
“Is she for real?”
While Aziraphale appreciated Crowley’s attempt at protectiveness, the derision in his tone seemed unfair, she was only a human after all. Aziraphale turned on his back and rolled his eyes. “She’s trying, dear. Very hard.”
“My patience, yeah.”
“If you'd give her a fair shot, you'd see what it's all about—yes, that's the stuff.” He leaned his head back and let her scratch under his chin.
“I can do that for you too, Crowley,” she said in hopes of tempting the semi-feral, semi-fierce, lanky piece of foul mood.
Said foul mood took a few careful steps towards her, balancing half on top of her legs, and he ignored her beckoning hand as usual. Crowley stopped at the middle of her thighs as if his courage had faltered. Probably because it had.
“You’re doing great, dear. Just a bit further.”
Aziraphale tried to keep his enthusiasm under wraps to not spook Crowley or activate his stubborn mode that made him do exactly the opposite of what was asked.
They had never been face to face before in this way. This close.
(Well, apart from Ana’s brave foray to put the collar on him.
“She ambushed me in my sleep!” Crowley had said and then pouted when Aziraphale failed to be as scandalised as he’d hoped for.)
Aziraphale prayed that egging him on wasn’t a mistake. He still formed a substantial blond barrier between them, but that was all the protection from each other they got.
“Oh my God,” Anathema breathed as she took Crowley in. His dark honey eyes, his shiny black coat, his pale pink nose and ears. “You are such a beautiful boy.”
“—True,” Crowley said.
“—I agree,” Aziraphale said at the same time.
Crowley broke the moment when he jumped to a respite on the backrest of the sofa where he licked his paw as if unimpressed by it all. It barely shook.
Aziraphale looked up at him fondly and he wanted to praise him, but Ana lightly petted his belly and he couldn’t suppress a decidedly vocal purr from escaping.
“Damn, are you always like this?” Crowley’s upside-down head appeared in his field of vision, tilted and nose scrunched. “That’s just obscene. And then you come to me, reeking of her, you fair-weathered friend.”
“Don't be like that, darling, you know I love you most of a— ahhh the scritches, very good, yes! I admit, they do look a bit ghastly, but there's something to be said for their hands and all this thumb business. I wish you’d experience it yourself.”
Crowley grumbled a couple nonsensical consonants.
“Or! You could pet her!” Aziraphale sat up at once. “They love it, look! Like so.”
He put his paws onto the squishy mounds on Ana’s chest he loved to use as pillows and pressed down, toes spreading.
He did it again.
And again.
She bit her lip and made an appreciative noise.
“See?”
Crowley gaped at him. “You’re—biscuiting her?!”
“Er...yes?” Aziraphale’s motions came to a slow halt. “I mean, only if she’s been especially lovely or it seems she could use a bit of comfort. Why, is that wrong?”
Crowley took a second to close his mouth and shook his head. “No, I guess…it’s…fine.”
Aziraphale smiled and decided to ignore how obviously un-fine it was and he said, “Try it!” in a slightly too eager fashion to demonstrate how it didn’t mean anything, and in case it did, to incriminate Crowley as well. Even them out.
“Nah. S’too much work.”
But Crowley did consider Ana and he carefully neared her head again. They both watched him.
“I might—” Crowley said and used his front paws for balance on her shoulder. Aziraphale’s eyes grew big because, goodness gracious, this was the last thing he’d expected.
“I might—watch this, angel.”
First, Crowley rested his nose on Ana’s hair for a second. She held perfectly still and she held her breath as well. Aziraphale, on the other hand, inhaled deeply.
Crowley’s pink tongue appeared. He stuck it out in an attempt to groom her and before Aziraphale’s heart could overflow with fond pride, Crowley’s tongue caught on a thick, dark strand coming away from her forehead.
What followed happened awfully quick, too quick for Aziraphale to intervene.
Ana leaned back from him. Crowley did the same in the opposite direction, startled, confused. His head bobbed wildly to shake the hair loose, but to no avail.
“Crowley, it’s alright, just—”
“—Crowley, that’s not—it won’t work like—” Aziraphale tried.
“—What the freth hell ith thith?!”
Crowley shook his head in a panic. He spat, he hissed, fur standing on end. Still the hair clung to his teeth. Ana bowed her head and held on to the strand.
“—Ow, no, Crowley—ow!”
“—Dear, stay calm, it’s—”
“—It won’t get off, Athiraphale! Why won’t it—”
In a last resort Crowley leaned back even further and slapped at the strand like a cat possessed, finally freeing himself. He fell down the backrest with a thud coming from behind the sofa. A short silence.
"M'alright!"
Aziraphale peered over the back rest and found he’d told the truth. Ana did the same and murmured, “It’s ok, sweety, I’m not mad at you, it’s ok,” as she finger-combed her hair.
After an incredulous glance in her direction Crowley straightened. “Right. I’m done with this. Find me when you’re through, it’s whatever, I guess. Never mind, see if I care. Which I don’t. Have fun with thumb girl.”
And away he zoomed.
“Well. That went great.” Ana sunk against the sofa rest.
Aziraphale sighed. They looked at each other.
“You think he’ll ever warm up to me?” Her hands cupped his cheeks and pushed her thumbs over them, up and backwards, up and backwards. It felt darn good, but Aziraphale didn’t have the inner peace to enjoy it properly. He stopped her with a paw.
“I’m going to be frank, love. It didn’t help that you brought in this Gabriel fellow. He’s still cross about that, but I’ll try and put in a good word.”
“At least I got you,” she said and kissed his head. “ My sweet”— kiss, kiss — “perfect little”— kiss — “bean baby”— kiss, kiss, kiss.
Aziraphale blinked everytime her lips smacked him, basking, flicking his ears out of the way.
“Naturally,” he said. “And you’re welcome, dear.”
Anathema knew her time had run its course for now and released him.
He landed on the floor with a similar dull noise of impact as Crowley had despite starting from the much lower seat cushion.
Aziraphale found him in the kitchen, curled in on himself in the washed-out beam of sun that fell in through the window overlooking the garden. Crowley didn’t react, even as he plonked down at his back.
“I’m so proud of you for trying,” he said and he started to lick Crowley’s head.
“Mhrm. Won’t happen again.”
Crowley remained stiff against him but Aziraphale was undeterred and shuffled closer. “What did you want to show me, darling?”
There was a brief pause. "S’too late. Already gone.”
“What a pity.”
“You should’ve come when I asked you.”
Aziraphale was certain they both knew this wasn’t the answer. At any rate, he didn’t plan to refuse Ana’s ministrations because Crowley felt insecure or needed attention. He wouldn’t get anything done if that were the case. He had one regret though.
“I shouldn’t have pushed you,” he said. ”You engage with her when and if you’re ready, in your own time, even if that’s never. I’m sorry.”
He continued to lick his head and his neck and he put one paw over Crowley’s body. His black fur had absorbed the sun and was cosy to the touch.
“M’sorry too.”
Crowley’s voice was gruff but small and he did wiggle a little. “Of course you can get all the pets you want.”
“You know, it’s a good thing there’s no competition. Because it’d be utterly unfair.” Aziraphale rubbed his nose against Crowley’s ear, taking soft nibbles all around its edges. “No-one would ever stand a chance against you.”
“No? What about the thumbs?”
“No-one and nothing.”
“Not even Churu?”
“Hey now, that’s–”
Crowley laughed and rolled over Aziraphale, nuzzling him too, biting him affectionately.
“You silly angel. What am I going to do with you?”
“Love and cuddle, mayhaps?”
Crowley gave a faux long-suffering sigh. “Ugh, fine, if I have to…”
When Anathema came into the kitchen twenty minutes later, she found both of them wound around the other, sleeping, all soft breaths and quiet purrs.
“Oh, piss off,” she whispered. “Some of us are incredibly single and you don’t even care, do you?”
She hesitated, then stopped kidding herself and fetched her phone. It already housed a barely manageable collection of pictures and videos of those two, whether alone, together, in various states of cuteness or mischief or both. Anathema practiced restraint and only added seventeen new ones plus a short video— an important close-up of a black paw stretching its toes, then hooking itself back under its blond equivalent.
After this close call of death by adorableness, she took a deep breath, stretched, and snacked some cheese bites from the fridge. Outside it snowed again in thick and silent flakes. She watched their smooth glide down for a while, a sense of peace coming over her, here in her cosy kitchen, feet on heated tiles, Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s purrs in her ears. She smiled at them.
And then she made herself a lovely cup of tea.