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Thumps and grinding in the earth above him broke the long silence.
Aziraphale held very still.
“....buggering bollocks I go off for one little assignment...”
That was all right, then. “Crowley? Is that you?”
The noise paused briefly. Aziraphale imagined Crowley’s expression, the casual, annoyed arm wiping across his brow. “Coming for you, angel.”
“Lovely.”
The scrapes and thumps were getting nearer, louder, and then a solid whump.
“Satan’s sake-- Almost there.”
“In your own time.”
The rattle and movement were soon joined by heavy feet, the wood flexing above him.
“I think I’ve got it now, if you’re out of the way?”
More noise. “Okay, angel, all yours.”
Aziraphale pushed and the lid flew up, away. He flowed to his feet. “Thank you, my dear.”
Crowley shook his head. “You know I’m not always going to be here to dig you up, right?”
“Of course not. I’d have got out eventually.” Aziraphale adjusted his suit, carefully brushing off dirt.
“After how long?” Crowley, bless him, was dirty and rumpled and beautiful.
“What would it matter, when I know you’d still find me?” Aziraphale smiled, enjoying the blush that crept up Crowley’s face.
The bloody bastard had done it again, and somehow Crowley still wasn’t sure how he’d ended up wielding the shovel. “One little mission for Hell, and I come back to find you’ve been buried,” he said, ignoring Aziraphale’s (perfectly correct) assertion that Crowley would always find him. “What this time? Flaming pitchforks?”
“Please. Nothing so gauche,” Aziraphale peered at him, head tilted, eyes shining in the lamplight. “I was merely taking a nap.”
“For two weeks?”
“Yes, well. Longer than I planned, but life is dull without you, my dear. Is it my fault my small kip went long?”
“Two weeks!” Crowley said again, because Aziraphale was being ridiculous. He waved an arm at the empty graveyard around them. “You got buried!”
“And you found me,” Aziraphale said calmly. “Really, you’re simply wonderful.”
“Don’t say that.”
“But you are!” That blue gaze had sharpened on him and he could barely look away. “And don’t worry about someone listening in. I’m sure the, ah, the source of the compliment should be a mitigating factor.”
“Not for anyone who’s ever bloody met you,” Crowley complained. He shifted to the side, and Aziraphale’s gaze came down to his shoulder. “Looking for something, angel?”
“Well... Perhaps. It has been two weeks, as you pointed out. I missed you.” Aziraphale’s eyes flicked back to his, almost glowing. “Terribly”
“Fine, let’s get back to the house--”
“Oh, but... we’re quite alone here, you know. It’s dark. You’ve just rescued me. It was frightfully boring.”
Crowley’s body warmed under the velvet of Aziraphale’s voice. “You’ll get more dirt on you,” he said.
“Then perhaps we shall take a bath after.”
“You want to do this here?”
“Here. Anywhere. Everywhere. My dear, you are--” Aziraphale took a breath, his eyes darkening-- “delectable.
Crowley stepped forward to Aziraphale, met his lips in a crashing kiss. It had, indeed, been too long. He wrapped his arms eagerly around his lover, lowered him toward the ground. “You’ll get grass stains,” he warned. One last chance to stop.
He didn’t want to stop.
“You’ll get them out for me,” Aziraphale purred, pulling him down in turn, until they lay in the grass with soft hips cradling him, strong legs around him.
“Oh, will I?” Crowley nipped at Aziraphale’s throat, rocked into him.
“You will,” Aziraphale breathed against him, sharp teeth teasing his ear. “You’ll do anything I want.”
He would, too, Crowley reflected as lips and teeth moved down his neck, nipping and biting; as the rolling of their hips established a rhythm.
Aziraphale pulled back, looked at him. “Crowley--” he said, voice heavy with need.
“Yes, of course, Satan’s sake, yes!”
Aziraphale’s teeth buried into his throat, lips closing on his skin. One hand held his neck, one grabbed onto his arse, holding him steady with inhuman strength while they moved together.
Heat spread from his neck, lassitude and need riding each other, pooling together between his legs. Keeping him riding that edge til finally Aziraphale stiffened under him, one last great gulp--
“Oh, my dearest. Look at the state of you,” Aziraphale said through the pounding in his ears. “You are beautifully debauched.”
“Angel. Please--”
“Have I ever left you wanting?” He was on his back somehow, Aziraphale’s heavy weight over him. Lips on his lips, tasting of blood and lust. “I’ve got you, my love. I’m always here for you...”
A hand on him, right where he needed it. He arched, needing more, more--
Crowley shook apart in his lover’s arms.
“Just as I know you’ll always come... when I call,” Aziraphale said.
“Smartarse,” Crowley panted. And it was good.