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Crowley didn’t care about wine specifics. What he cared about was that it existed, and he liked what it did inside his body, and nothing more. Nonetheless, he was currently sitting in a classroom listening to lots of confusing nonsense about wine appellations (“Bordeaux, for example, or Chianti, Mosel”), vinification methods, sparkling wine, dessert wine, fortified wine (which he did like the sound of), and why table wines were anathema to a true connoisseur.
He nodded off during the vintage and varietal wine discussion, but perked up when the instructor clapped his hands. “We will return to the various classifications of wine next week. It’s time for our first tasting, which I am certain you are all looking forward to! Come forward, everyone!”
Crowley dashed to the banquet table, where rows of glasses and bottles were set out, in order to demonstrate his eagerness to the man he was smitten by—Master Sommelier Aziraphale Fell. He could nod off anytime to those dulcet tones, but he preferred to gaze raptly while wide awake at the soft blond curls, those enchanting blue-green eyes, the adorable nose with that cute upturn at the end, and those lovely lips.
God, he was gone for the gorgeous man who had strolled into his plant shop one day to ask about posting a sign in the window to advertise his Beginning Wine Appreciation class. Crowley had barely got past “Yeah, sure”, and “post signs in my window anytime”, before going tongue-tied in the face of such perfection.
Now here he stood, probably about to make a fool of himself in front of the object of his dreams. He started with a little wave. “Hi.”
“Oh, good evening, Mr. Crowley! I am delighted you signed up for my little course!”
“Great! Right. Good. I’m delighted, too. Er, I mean, to be here. With you. NGK.”
“Are you feeling alright?”
“Yes! Fine!” He bit his lip and tried to think about anything else. Purple elephants. Flying wiener dogs. Anything but stunning blond wine experts. “I’m good!”
“Ah, well, ahem. Everyone, we will start with a basic Cabernet Sauvignon, a full-bodied varietal often called the king of red wines. It pairs naturally with steak as well as rich, savory dishes to match its bold character. Allow me to demonstrate the basic tasting technique.”
Crowley tried to pay heed. He truly did. But he heard nothing after Fell explained the five “S’s” — See, Swirl, Sniff, Sip, Savor — because then he was utterly mesmerized by those eyes studying the glass, those hands gently twirling the stem, that nose taking a deep whiff, those amazing lips pressing against the rim as he took a sip, and then the murmur and sigh as he savored the wine. Hell. Take me now. I am yours to command…a vision of those hands gently wrapping around something entirely different slowly unfolded….
“Shall we try it now? Yes, that’s right. Very good. You are all doing it nicely—um—Mr. Crowley? Hello?”
“What?” He snapped back to reality. “Sorry!” He grabbed the glass and almost took a sip before one of those hands reached to take hold of his wrist.
“No, you must SEE first, then SWIRL, SNIFF, SIP, and SAVOR, thusly!”
Then the angelic looking sommelier kept his hand around Crowley’s as he guided him through the steps, and he never took his eyes off him, piercing into his very soul. As Crowley finished savoring, in more ways than one, Fell let go, smiled, and leaned in closely to whisper, “You are distracted, my dear fellow. Any particular reason?”
Crowley gulped and nodded. He whispered back, “You distract me. All over.”
“Aha. I thought as much.”
Idiot, idiot, idiot. “Sorry, Mr. Fell.”
Blue-green eyes twinkled. “Please call me Aziraphale.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” A single beautiful eye winked. “I find you distracting, too.” Then he casually strolled off to observe the other students.
Crowley wound up staying after class ended to help tidy up.
For far, far longer than was actually needed.
***