Chapter Text
The heavy box thunked upon the ground like an exclamation point to the end of a sentence. Aziraphale grinned as he looked around the living room, offset with color from the midafternoon sun and heavy with dust particles. The room was filled with brown cardboard boxes, some open to show their hodge podge of possessions. It was a large living room, larger than the last, due to the necessity for more space with twice the furniture to fill it. Well, alright, maybe not twice. They’d both had to give up some of their things to accommodate. It wasn’t as though they needed two sofas. Because this wasn’t just his home. No, this house was theirs.
Aziraphale breathed in deeply, the faint smell of paint and wood varnish lingering behind the scent of fresh flowers and cut grass that drifted through the open window. It smelled like home. The sound of grunts and cursing made him turn to see Crowley’s lean form wrestling an overly large box through the front door, before dropping it onto the floor.
“Crowley! Be careful, my books are in there.”
“You don’t say? I never would have guessed, seeing as it weighs the same as the Bentley.”
Aziraphale rolled his eyes and walked to the box. “You’re an absolute drama queen, did you know that?”
Crowley mumbled something under his breath, but was stopped when Aziraphale leaned forward and pecked a kiss against his lips. A small, reluctant smile curled the edges of his lips.
“Only when it calls for it. But you’re moving the rest of these boxes. Nearly broke my back in half.”
Aziraphale shook his head. “Yes, very well. I wouldn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities.”
Crowley opened his mouth, no doubt to toss out a sarcastic comment, but was stopped in his tracks by the sight of Aziraphale easily lifting the box and carrying it through to the kitchen. Crowley followed, eyes on the stretch of cotton around Aziraphale’s biceps.
“Show off,” he muttered.
Aziraphale cast a smug smirk over his shoulder. “Like you aren’t? Don’t think I didn’t know what you were doing while we viewed houses. You looked like a madman, shaking doors and wiggling pipes, then spouting off all sorts of nonsense.”
“It wasn’t nonsense!” Crowley cried. “Structural safety is no laughing matter.”
“Yes, yes, I know.”
“Besides,” Crowley said, pulling a tape measurer from who knows where, “I still think this house could use some improvements.”
Aziraphale leaned against the table with a fond smile, watching as Crowley got onto the floor in the doorway to check the width of the frame. What a ridiculous man. God, he loved him.
“Darling, not that I couldn’t watch you inspect this house for hours, but I would like to get at least a few of the boxes unpacked. At least the kitchen.”
Crowley scowled at the edge of the doorframe and gave it a hard shake. “Yeah, yeah, ok. I’m coming.”
He swaggered his way over to one of the boxes and pulled it open, peering in. He glanced up with lips pressed together. “Angel, this is just more books.”
“What? But that one’s labeled Kitchen.”
“Yeah, well, unless you plan on eating off this first edition Wilde, I think you labeled them wrong.”
Aziraphale looked in, and sure enough, books. “Oh dear, this might be a problem. I must have gotten distracted while labeling.”
A grin crept up Crowley’s face. “What could have possibly distracted you, angel?”
He huffed as he walked to another box. “Oh, like you don’t know, you wily demon.”
Crowley cackled and hopped up onto the counter. “What can I say, angel? It’s what you get for packing in nothing but an undershirt. Practically demands me to worship on my knees.”
Aziraphale tried very hard not to smile. “How devout of you.”
“Yeah, well, if I can’t be devoted to my husband, who can I be to?”
“You could have shown a bit more self-control.” He opened another box. “Oh, good lord! More books!”
“You know self-control and I don’t exactly get along. Besides, you could have stopped me at any time, but I don’t remember you putting up much of a fight.”
Aziraphale ignored him, placing his hands on his hips, and looking around at the boxes piled up. “Really, my dear, are you going to sit there the whole night and argue or are you going to help me? One of these boxes has to have the kitchen stuff!”
“It’s fine, angel, we’ll figure it out later!”
He would never admit it out loud, but Aziraphale was pouting. “But I’m hungry.”
Crowley chuckled as he climbed off the counter and approached, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s chest. “Then I’ll have some food delivered.”
He immediately lit up. “Oh, would you?”
“You know I would,” Crowley said with a fond roll of his eyes.
Aziraphale wiggled a bit. “Oh, good. I’m in the mood for crepes.”
Crowley turned him so they were face to face. “Well, maybe after you get your treat, I’ll get mine.”
“Crowley, the house is a mess!”
“So? Don’t you want to have your handyman over to fix the pipes? Maybe give him a call so he can drill some holes?”
“Some holes in what?”
Crowley groaned and dropped his head back. “Come on, angel, play along! I know you’ve thought about it.”
Aziraphale pulled away. “Of course I have. I nearly tore my house down in an attempt to get you to ravage me.”
They walked together into the living room, which was an even bigger mess of boxes and misplaced furniture. Aziraphale let out a deep breath. Maybe this could all wait until tomorrow. The feeling of Crowley’s mouth against his neck was certainly looking more appealing by the second.
“If I recall correctly, angel, it was you who did the ravaging.”
“Hmm, perhaps. It was two years ago, I can hardly remember.”
In the end, Aziraphale was able to convince Crowley to at least help him set up the furniture and organize the boxes into the correct room. He’d grumbled about it, but Aziraphale knew his clean freak husband would appreciate it later. They sat now together on the kitchen floor, two plates of crepes from the local restaurant set out in front of them.
“I still can’t believe I left the kitchen chairs back at the old house,” Crowley griped.
Aziraphale dug his fork into the plate of chicken florentine crepes closest to him. “It’s really not a big deal, darling. The box van doesn’t need to be back until tomorrow evening. We can stop by and pick them up in the morning.”
“I guess. I just didn’t imagine our first night in our house together spent eating on the kitchen floor.”
Aziraphale grinned. “Well, I can’t say I’m complaining. It feels special, doesn’t it? Like we’re breaking it in.”
Crowley wiggled his eyebrows. “I can think of another way to break it in.”
“Oh?” Aziraphale batted his eyelashes. “What were you thinking? A good scrubbing?”
“I’ll show you a good scrubbing.”
All Aziraphale could do was laugh as Crowley pounced forward and knocked him onto his back.
“Crowley, be careful! You’ll ruin the crepes.”
Crowley bit at his neck. “Fuck the crepes.”
Aziraphale let out a scandalized gasp, making Crowley lean back and look down at him.
“Alright, I admit, that was too far.”
“Indeed, it was.” Aziraphale had to purse his lips to stop the grin that wanted to break free on his face, but Crowley saw it anyways. He pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then climbed off him.
“Okay, finish your bloody crepes you fussy bastard.”
Aziraphale wiggled as he pushed himself into a sitting position. “You knew what you were getting into when you married me.”
“Hardly. You can’t blame me, I was blinded by how utterly sexy you were. Nobody has any right to walk around with an arse as nice as yours.”
Aziraphale grinned around the fork in his mouth. They had both come around to admitting all the ways in which the other drove them mad, so he was well aware of what his body did to his husband.
“As if you were any better, walking around with that tool belt. It was all I could do to not bend you over the counter and fuck you senseless.”
“Well, it might not have been the counter, but you did fuck me senseless in the end. Although…”
Aziraphale knew that look, and it usually led to something he was going to enjoy. “Although what?”
Crowley balanced his head on his fist. “This is a new home. A perfect place to make new memories. That counter looks awfully comfortable.”
“Crowley, it’s quartz. I can guarantee it won’t be.”
“Never know until we try, will we?”
In the end, Aziraphale did end up fucking him over the counter. It would have been perfect if it weren’t for Crowley commenting on the slight tilt he felt to the surface and how he was going to need to fix it before they started using it to cook. He supposed this was what he got for falling for a handyman.