Work Text:
The bell above the bookshop's front door jingled softly.
"One moment, please! I'm coming!"
Gently locking the door behind him, Crowley smiled at the bookseller's voice and moved silently to where it came from, happy to surprise his lover.
He had finished early for the first time since opening his flower shop.
He hadn't closed the shop; he had left it in the hands of Amelia, the young assistant he had been training for six months. She was a bubbly and passionate young woman and a friend of Muriel's, which had prompted Crowley to look favorably upon her. Her motivation and commitment since her arrival had quickly earned Crowley's trust, and he did not regret it.
Aziraphale believed she was an internship trainee, not Crowley's future right-hand woman. He had no idea what was going on, and Crowley couldn't wait to see his reaction.
He walked between the rows of books he now knew so well and found Aziraphale with his back to him in the poetry section.
"Hello..."
The bookseller jumped, nearly dropping the book he was holding.
He exclaimed, putting his hand on his heart, "Crowley! You scared me!" "
Then, he placed the book on the shelf next to him and walked up to the florist, bombarding him with questions. “What are you doing here? What about your shop? I thought you didn't finish until six.”
Amused, Crowley brushed a web of dust caught in his lover's hair and replied with a smile, "Surprise! I'm done for the day."
He placed his hands on the bookseller's shoulders and added, "First and foremost, I'm here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses."
Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.
"Your daily fix of hugs and kisses? Since when has that been a thing?"
"Since today."
Aziraphale laughed softly, then frowned and asked again. He knew how important his work was to Crowley. “What about the flower shop? Did you close early?”
“No, Amelia is running the shop this afternoon. She started out as my assistant with the goal of becoming my right-hand woman. She'll be running the shop three afternoons and two mornings a week.”
Aziraphale's eyes widened in surprise.
"Wow, you really trust her."
Crowley nodded.
Aziraphale asked, "And you're going to do other things instead?" What made you decide to do this?"
The florist replied kindly, "You."
Aziraphale swallowed.
"Me?"
Crowley nodded slowly.
"Yes, you. I want to spend more time with you. So you won't have to wait up late at night to see me, and so I won't disappear early in the morning without seeing you."
Aziraphale said in a voice that couldn't hide his amazement, "You did that... for me?"
Crowley replied with a half-smile, "Technically, I'm doing it for us."
Aziraphale's smile was radiant as he placed his hands on the florist's slim waist.
"Indeed, you've earned your daily fix of hugs and kisses."
He slid his hands up Crowley's back and pressed himself against him. The florist, not to be outdone, wrapped his arms around the bookseller's shoulders and pressed his face into his lover's blond curls.
They remained embraced in silence for a few minutes until, after a long moment, Aziraphale released his embrace.
Crowley protested, "Hey, is it over already?"
Aziraphale replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You mentioned hugs and kisses. You've had your hug. Now it's time for the kiss.”
Crowley laughed softly as Aziraphale reached up and caught the lapels of the florist's black jacket. He pulled the demon toward him until their lips met.
At first, the kiss was light and almost superficial, with their lips barely brushing. Then, Aziraphale parted his lips in invitation, to which Crowley immediately responded by sliding his tongue into the warm cavity. When their tongues met and began their familiar dance, they both moaned with pleasure.
Crowley caressed Aziraphale's jaw with one hand, brushing his cheekbone with his thumb, while holding him by the hip with the other, pulling him closer until there was no space between them.
The friction of their bodies pressing together made Aziraphale moan again into the kiss, and Crowley felt the vibration run through his entire body.
The florist broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against his lover's lips, "Shall we go upstairs?"
With a teasing smile, Aziraphale replied, "You said hugs and kisses, my dear. Nothing about other activities.”
Crowley growled, "Aziraphale..."
The bookseller nibbled the florist's lip and continued in the same playful tone: "I'm just following the rules."
Crowley didn't reply, but he smiled slyly. He could play that game, too.
He captured the bookseller's lips in a passionate kiss, his hand sliding down his hip and moving lower to caress the hardening bulge under his pants. His caresses were light and pressure-free, yet the teasing made Aziraphale moan and arch against Crowley's hand.
Crowley withdrew his hand, eliciting another moan—almost a whimper—and said challengingly, "So, still limited to hugs and kisses?" "
Aziraphale stared at him, mouth agape and breathless. Without another word, he pulled away, grabbed the florist's hand, and quickly led him toward the spiral staircase. Crowley followed, wearing a radiant smile and thinking that he had never made a better decision than reducing his working hours.