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A few miles southwest of Newhaven, South Downs
Far down the coast, there always had been a small cottage at the outskirts of Newhaven and Peacehaven.
It had been uninhabited since 1987. The original owner, Lacey O’Connell, had moved to London due to his growing health issues.
The house and its limestone walls and the slate roof had never officially been sold, so it stood there unattended for almost four decades. The garden had overgrown, swallowed the fence and most parts of the property.
Some of the neighbours had tried to find out what happened to the owner, but they never got a satisfactory answer. It seemed like a miracle that neither the walls nor the roofs had collapsed during the decade-long abandonment.
And then, one sunny day in early spring 2023, a middle-aged man had appeared out of nowhere, claiming the property his. He didn’t look like the usual prospect of landowner the residents of Newhaven and Peacehaven were used to. Nor did he look like one of these people who came here to camp and spend their summer in the peaceful south of England.
But he seemed devoted to his task reviving the cottage to its initial beauty. There were never any trucks or trash containers or even any craftsmen present, but still the overgrowth vanished without a trace, the mouldy greenish taint on the limestone disappeared and the windowpanes started glinting in the sunlight.
Of course, some of the residents came by to greet this new homeowner. He was always smiled at them, exchanged some polite conversations and invited them to a cup of tea and some biscuits. But he never seemed to stay long. He arrived at the property via cab, worked in and around the house for a few hours and left again.
And then, out of nowhere, he disappeared in late summer, and the house was vacant again.
Years passed and Newhaven’s citizens already forgot about it. Until one day in early 2026, the man returned. But he wasn’t alone anymore. He also didn’t travel with a taxi this time. Getting out of a big vintage car, black varnish glistening in the February sun, a slender, dark figure joined the man to the border of the property, the garden already overgrown again, but nothing compared to the previous abandonment.
The two men worked together to revive the cottage, again. Of course, rumours started spreading, when the two of them stared to visit more regularly, staying the weekends, the unknown man tending to the garden in a very unconventional manner. Yellow geraniums embellished the window sills all summer long. The local gossip exploded the day someone caught them holding hands while taking a stroll along the coastline. But the two of them didn’t seem to care much. And after the first shock, the residents grew fond of the unlikely couple, that spent most of their evenings enjoying food at the local restaurants and shared some glasses of wine at the pub.
Sometimes, only one of them came to visit the cottage. Most of the time, it was the soft, light-hearted one, the one with the unpronounceable name, tending to the house or visiting the neighbours for a cup of tea or for a chat. When the summer had peaked and started to cool off into a cozy autumn, everyone in Newhaven and Peacehaven knew who this Aziraphale and his slender partner were.
~*~
It was one of these evenings in late November, when Aziraphale spent his time in the cottage alone. His fingers were wrapped around a slim fountain pen, and he mumbled to himself while he scribbled down the newest report to the Eternal Host. It had been a wild ride to come to this point. But he took his new position as Representative of Earth and the Voice of Humankind very seriously, and his monthly reports were flawless, as always. Well, technically, he and Crowley were the official Representatives of Earth now, but the demon didn’t seem quite fond of the idea of that new kind of paperwork. He was more about the doing-part, keeping former demons and angels at bay that didn’t comply on the new Eternal Peace Agreement, together with Beelzebub and Saraqael. So Aziraphale attended all the meetings and wrote the reports, while Crowley did the dirty work.
He sighed as he finished copying Crowley’s notes on the latest encounter, rephrased a few of the words in a more polite and neutral way. The sun had set about an hour ago and the air was growing progressively colder outside. With a huff, Aziraphale got up and stoked the fire at the little fireplace in the middle of the living room. While he waited for the ink to dry, he set up the kettle and hummed to himself.
When the tea was ready, he returned to his report, folded it neatly, put it into an envelope and sealed it with a golden signet. When the wax had cooled down, he flicked his wrist, and the envelope disappeared into the void, finding its way to the council. Aziraphale got up with a pleased sigh and let his fingers run over the spines of the books he had migrated to the cottage over the past months.
He was about to make himself comfortable in an armchair near the fire, with one of his beloved Jane Austen first editions and a plate of cinnamon-dusted apple slices, when he noticed the familiar sound of a car engine getting closer. Bright headlights shot through the window on the back of the cottage and a few seconds later, the door flung open with a crash.
“There you are!”
Crowley’s voice wasn’t exactly angry, but he didn’t sound happy either. He brought a gust of freezing autumn air with him. Aziraphale turned his head and watched the demon close the door again. Crowley’s shoulders were scrunched, the lapels of his jacket and coat flipped upwards to protect his neck from the cold and he had buried his hands deep into his pockets. White flecks stuck to his red hair and the fabric of his clothes.
“Oh, I didn’t notice it had started snowing!” Aziraphale said and got on his feet. Crowley just mumbled something incomprehensible, kicked off his snakeskin boots and strode to the kitchen. Aziraphale followed him and leaned against the door frame. The demon rummaged in one of the cupboards until he pulled out a bottle of red wine. He uncorked it with a small miracle and gulped down a big sip straight out of the bottle.
“That bad of a day, dearest?”
It was more a statement than a question and Crowley replied with a huff.
“Don’t ask. Nasty business, that,” he hissed and took down another gulp. When he finished swallowing, he wiped his lips with his sleeve and held the bottle out.
“Want one?”
The angel pinched his lips together.
“I have standards,” he grumbled and squeezed past Crowley into the small kitchen. He opened a cupboard and took out two glasses. He carefully placed them on the counter and closed the doors again. Then he gestured at the demon, who rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses and poured Aziraphale a glass, stubbornly ignoring the second one. The angel sighed and took the glass, sending the demon a weary glare. He leaned against the counter next to the demon and took a small sip of the red liquid. It wasn’t by far their best wine, but it wasn’t the worst either. Next to him, Crowley emptied the bottle with a generous gulp. Then he sighed and slumped a little, his shoulder now leaning against the angel’s. His coat was still damp from the melted snowflakes.
“You could’ve told me you were here,” he complained with another sigh, “I was already in Winchester, y’know? Could’ve spared me the diversion to London!”
Aziraphale huffed.
“I told you! I sent you a message to your mobile telephone!” he defended himself, nudging the demon’s shoulder.
“You didn’t!”
“I did! Check your electronic mailbox.”
The demon scowled, put the bottle away and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He unlocked it with a swipe and squinted at the display. Then he groaned in exasperation.
“You sent me a bloody SMS message? Nobody reads that stuff nowadays, Aziraphale! I’ve installed three different messenger apps on your bloody phone, and you still send me a blasted text message?”
“No reason to raise your voice like that, my dear boy,” Aziraphale responded pointedly and sipped on his wine again, but kept leaning against the demon’s shoulder. Crowley sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“Nghk. Yea. M’sorry, angel. Long day, that’s all,” he murmured exhaustedly, removing the sunglasses, discarding them on the counter next to the empty wine bottle. Aziraphale snaked one arm around the demon’s waist and gave him a soft squeeze.
“Then what do you think about a nice lie-down at the sofa while I prepare a cuppa for you?” he proposed and leaned his chin on Crowley’s shoulder. He smelled like leather and smoke, like he had spent a significant amount of time in the fumes of a cigarette.
Crowley gave off an approving hum, pressed his lips on the angel’s hairline for a second and straightened up. He sauntered back to the living room, shrugging the coat and the jacket off his shoulders and slumped down on the sofa, legs sprawled over the armrest. Aziraphale smiled at him and went to work.
When he returned to the living room with a teapot, a small milk jug, two mugs and a bowl of rock sugar, Crowley had already fallen asleep. The angel smiled; put the tray e was balancing in his hands down on the small coffee table and went to grab a blanket from one of the cabinets. He spread the soft fabric over the demon’s loose limbs and tucked him in tenderly. Before he retreated to his armchair, he pressed his lips against Crowley’s forehead for a moment.
It was already past midnight. The tea had been emptied and the apple slices eaten up, when Crowley started flinching in his sleep. Aziraphale lifted his gaze and watched the demon’s restless movements for a few moments. Crowley’s tendency to regular sleep had caused him nightmares from time to time, but only since they had begun sharing a life together, Aziraphale had really realised that. When the demon didn’t stop twitching and twisting after a few minutes, he got up.
He knelt next to the sofa and laid a hand on the demon’s cheek.
“Crowley, dear,” he whispered, gently caressing the demon’s face. Crowley flinched and opened his fully golden eyes, pupils blown and wide. His breath staggered and he blinked in confusion. It took him a long moment to come back to the present.
“Nightmare, again?” Aziraphale asked sympathetically and tilted his head slightly. Crowley made a face, but didn’t pull away. Instead, he lay his hand over Aziraphale’s and leaned into the touch.
“Nyeh,” he responded, “Jus’ some unpleasant things. Nothin’ to worry that pretty little head of yours about.”
Aziraphale chuckled and leaned closer, their faces now only inches apart.
“You think I’m pretty?” he teased playfully. The demon scrunched his nose, and his cheeks flushed a slight pink.
“You’re a nuisance, that’s what you are!”
“Shall I go then?” Aziraphale asked.
The demon’s face fell, a hint of real fear hiding in his beautiful golden eyes.
“No.”
“I was joking, dearest.”
Crowley grumbled, eyes now fully awake. The intensity of his serpentine stare went through Aziraphale’s bones, and his smile faded.
“What did you dream about?” he asked again. The demon let go of his hand and sat up, posture bent forward, his face buried in his hands. Slightly worried, Aziraphale got up and sat next to him.
“My wings were burning,” Crowley exhaled, voice muffled. Aziraphale swallowed and lay a hand on his partner’s back, right between his shoulder blades. The demon shivered.
“How long has it been since you had your wings out, my dear? Maybe it’s your subconsciousness telling you to tend to them,” Aziraphale suggested. Crowley remained silent, then he sighed.
“Dunno. Back at the airbase with that Antichrist boy, I think.”
“And before that? I’m not sure if that few minutes in the ethereal space do count. When did you have them out physically?”
Crowley groaned, then shrugged.
“Must been some decades ago. Frightened some locals in the States. They called me the Mothman.”
“Oh, yes, I remember that,” the angel replied with a chuckle, “You made quite an impression on the people there.”
“Yeah, I did.”
The demon grinned weakly, then he sighed. Silence stretched between them and Aziraphale gently rubbed the demon’s back.
“Would you pull them into existence for me?” he quietly asked after a few minutes. The demon’s head turned towards him, a frightened expression on his face.
“Like, in physical form?” he croaked, cheeks turning red. Aziraphale nodded. Crowley stared at him and swallowed.
“I- You know I have to disrobe for that?” he stammered.
“Well, yes, unless you want to rip that sleek shirt of yours?” Aziraphale replied confused. He wasn’t quite sure he understood why the demon was mentioning that. They stared at each other.
“Don’t you- I dunno – feel a little uncomfortable for me – y’know – taking off my shirt?” Crowley asked, face now red to the ears.
“No? Should I? You wore much less at these bath houses in Rome.”
“Wha- I- Well. Urgh! You’re right. Sorry.”
Crowley stood up and turned away from the angel, unbuttoning his black shirt. Aziraphale watched him carefully and didn’t dare to say a word. He still wracked his brain about the demon’s sudden discomfort. They had seen the other in almost every state of disrobement over the past six millennia, why should that…? Oh.
The demon had hesitated, but now he shrugged off the soft fabric of his shirt, exposing his back. Freckled skin stretched over his slender frame, the hint of muscles and ribs painting a landscape of curves and sharp edges. He was beautiful.
Crowley rolled his shoulders and with another exhale and a small demonic miracle, his ebony wings entered the physical existence. Aziraphale felt the rush of air brushing over his face and tousling his hair when the demon stretched out the dark feathers.
“How bad is it?” he asked quietly and glimpsed over his shoulder back to Aziraphale, who still sat on the sofa and stared at him.
“What?”
“The wings, angel!” Crowley snapped and his feathers ruffled visibly.
“Oh. Yes! Pardon me!”
Aziraphale got on his feet, knees suddenly weak. He had never been allowed to look at the demon without any inhibition. They never had declared their affection for each other before the world almost ended again. There was still a lot left to talk about their new them. They still needed to adapt to the new arrangement, their new life together, but it seemed like Crowley had a much harder time to open up. And Aziraphale didn’t know how to cope with all the feelings that struck his mind at that moment. His heartbeat raced and his fingertips went cold.
He tried to fight the upcoming feelings and distracted himself by the task at hand. Wings. Crowley’s wings. Attached to a wonderfully freckled back. His gaze wandered over the black feathers, some of them tousled and unkempt, others bent or twisted.
“Well,” he croaked and kneaded his hands, “They’re a bit scruffy, to be honest.”
“Yes, I assumed that!” Crowley scoffed.
“They’re still there and unscathed, if that is what you wanted to know,” the angel shot back, relieved about the more casual bickering.
Crowley sighed deeply, a sound that went through his whole upper body, moving the muscles and tendons under his skin. Awkward silence stretched between them. The demon had pulled his wings closer to his body, and his arms were crossed in front of his chest. Aziraphale bit his lip and anxiously fiddled with the ring on his pinkie.
“Angel,” Crowley broke the silence and turned his head slightly towards him, arms still crossed. But he didn’t look annoyed. Or angry. There was a weariness in his expression, eyes glistening in a pained defensiveness. His usually sharp pupils were blown wide in the dim light of the fire.
“Would you mind … tending a bit to them?” he asked with shaky voice. Aziraphale swallowed again, then he nodded.
“Of course, dear.”
He took a step closer, until he was within reach. His hands were trembling. It took him more courage than he would admit to himself or to Crowley, but then he gently dug his fingers in between the feathers. They were soft, like black silk under his fingertips. And they were warm, like they had been basking in the sun just a moment ago.
“Is this alright?” Aziraphale asked self-conscious, stopping in his motion. He hadn’t tended to another immortal being’s wings since before the Fall, and his preening skills had never been the best, according to the other angel’s feedback back then.
Crowley’s posture was still stiff, but he nodded.
“Yes. It is,” he ensured the angel and turned his head away again.
Alright. You can do this. One after another. Aziraphale tried to calm himself and got to work again. His movements were slow and unpractised at the beginning, the motion rusty, but the more he worked through the sea of black feathers, the more confident he grew He felt the wiry muscles and tendons hidden under the quills beneath his fingertips, warm skin against his. He watched the demon relax under his touch, his posture slowly slouching into a calmer pose.
He worked his way through the coverts on top of Crowley’s wings, the secondary coverts and to the primaries, smoothing every ruffled and roughed edge until his fingers glided through the wing smoothly without any knots or tousled feathers. Then he did the same for the other wing.
More than once, he heard the demon exhale in relief. Aziraphale did want to ask him when the last time had been that someone else had tended to his wings. But he was afraid that he knew the answer already. Wing preening wasn’t something he’d see a demon doing for another in the past. For sure, there must have been demons like Crowley. Demons that had a good core. Demons that longed for kindness, for forgiveness, for grace. But certainly, none of them had never shared these longings, down there in Hell.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t realise at first, that Crowley was slightly trembling. Aziraphale blinked and let go of the demon’s wings, scared that he had hurt him.
“Did I do something wrong?” he stammered self-conscious when Crowley’s feathers started ruffling up in distress. Hesitantly, he rounded the demon, hands clasped in front of his chest. The demon avoided Aziraphale’s eyes, wings now pulled close to his trembling body.
“I- nghk- no- you- you didn’t!” Crowley blurted out; head bowed down.
“What is it then? Crowley, dear, talk to me!”
Golden eyes flashed upwards; pupils still blown. There was a plea in the demon’s expression that almost physically hurt.
“I- I- I can’t!” he gasped, frowning. It was hard, seeing him like this, struggling with himself. Aziraphale wanted to reach out, but he didn’t dare. Crowley inhaled sharply and bit his lip. Then he exhaled in a long breath, run one of his hands through his crimson hair.
“It’s too much to ask. And it’s silly. Forget about it!” he started, reaching for his shirt.
“No!”
Aziraphale’s hand shot forwards and enclosed his fingers around the demon’s wrist, stopping his motion. Their eyes met, clear blue against golden yellow.
“Tell me, dear. You know you can tell me. I thought we had an understanding on that.”
Crowley’s face tightened and he seemed utterly ashamed. But he didn’t say anything. Hesitantly, Aziraphale reached out, gently cupping the demon’s cheek.
“Crowley,” he whispered quietly, fighting to keep his tone calm and not too worried. He pulled him closer, leaned his forehead against the demon’s, whispering his name again and again. Crowley still stared at him, visibly fighting his own demons. Aziraphale let go of the demon’s wrist and cupped the other side of his face, gently stroking the soft skin. He tilted his head upwards, pressing his lips against Crowley’s forehead, his temples, the bridge of his nose, putting all his love and devotion for this beautiful being in front of him into the kisses.
“It’s alright,” he whispered, breathing a faint kiss on the corner of his mouth. I love you. I love you so much. He wished he had the courage to say it.
And there, Crowley caved. A sharp exhale left the demon’s throat, and his body lost all its tension. His arms wrapped around Aziraphale’s waist, and he pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace. He buried his face into the angel’s waistcoat. With a soft hum, Aziraphale reciprocated the hug, caressing the back of Crowley’s head and held him tight.
“I want...” Crowley started; voice muffled by the angel’s waistcoat. He pulled away enough to look at him, eyes oddly glassy and if Aziraphale didn’t knew better, he could swear that the demon was on the brink of crying.
“I want you to be close to me. See … all of you,” Crowley croaked quietly and Aziraphale’s eyes grew wide in surprise and shock.
“Wh- What?” he gasped, and his cheeks started burning like fire, “B- But I- I don’t have the- the gear on to- A-and I have never—"
Crowley suddenly chuckled, a beautiful little noise, and he almost looked pitiful.
“Not- Not like that!” he whispered, his expression serious again, the remains of his smile still crinkling the corners of his eyes. He hesitated. His gaze grew so vulnerable that it almost hurt. His slender fingers fiddled with the lapels of the angel’s waistcoat, “I want you to … nghk .. to hold me close. Just … just hold me. Nothing else.”
His cheeks turned pink again and his gaze shot sideways in embarrassment.
“Oh,” Aziraphale faltered.
“Y’know what, no. Forget that I asked, it’s stupid. I don’t know why I even—” Crowley grumbled and tried to retreat, frowning in embarrassment.
“It’s not stupid!” Aziraphale interrupted him hastily, held him in place with a firm grip.
“It is! And it’s humiliating and childish and—”
With a dismissive hum, Aziraphale pressed his lips on Crowley’s, to shut up the demon’s self-conscious babbling. Kissing him still struck Aziraphale with a pang of disbelief, even after months of them admitting to their mutual affection. Feeling like this seemed inevitable, after millennia of secrecy and holding back emotions and affections. Crowley seemed to have a much harder time to acknowledge that he was allowed to let his guard down.
“Silly serpent,” Aziraphale murmured affectionately and caressed Crowley’s face with his thumbs, fingertips following the curve of the demon’s neck. Crowley scrunched his nose in return and sent him a hiss. Aziraphale just chuckled and kissed the tip of his nose.
“May I…?” Crowley asked hesitantly, lifting his hands to trail his fingertips over the soft velvet fabric of Aziraphale’s waistcoat, golden eyes pleading. A wave of nervousness washed over the angel for a moment, but then he nodded with a soft smile.
Crowley’s hands were trembling. It took him several clumsy attempts, but he until he slowly managed to unbutton the waistcoat. The angel watched this wonderfully slender fingers doing their work, appreciating their elegant movements. Aziraphale loosened his grip around the demon’s face, to help him push the fabric of the waistcoat off his shoulders. Crowley leaned his forehead against Aziraphale’s and rested his hands on his chest for a moment. A cheeky smile tucked on the demon’s lips when his fingers reached for the bowtie.
“I hate this thing!” he softly hissed as he tucked on the ends to loosen it from Aziraphale’s throat. Aziraphale chuckled.
“No, you don’t.”
Crowley growled.
“No, I don’t. And I hate that I don’t hate it.”
Aziraphale tilted his head upwards to make it easier for Crowley to undo his shirt at the collar. The demon started chuckling when he was half finished unbuttoning the angel’s shirt.
“Damn it, Aziraphale, of course you’re wearing an undershirt.”
“It’s the law,” the angel grinned.
“You’re ridiculous!”
The demon took his sweet time, getting rid of all the layers covering the angel’s corporation. He grinned at the tartan underwear and the matching socks. Aziraphale had thought that he might feel uncomfortable under the demon’s gaze, naked as She had created him, but he didn’t. Quite the opposite.
The demon snapped his fingers when Aziraphale slipped out of his tartan socks and all his own dark clothes vanished. For a moment, the angel just stood there and took in the sight. The demon was beautiful, freckles covering his pale skin from his wiry shoulders with sharp collarbones, his flat belly, his slender hips to his thin ankles. His dark wings framed his silhouette like a silky black shadow.
Aziraphale’s heart swelled with unspoken love for that beautiful being before him and offered a tender smile.
“You’re absolutely stunning, my dear. All of you.”
The demon blushed like anything and avoided Aziraphale’s eyes. To make sure the silence didn’t become awkward, the angel closed the distance between them again, laying a hand on the demon’s pink cheek, tilting his head to guide his gaze towards him.
“You’re beautiful,” Aziraphale said quietly, wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. The sensation of skin on skin was a shock first. Their bodies were so different, yet they fit together like they were meant to be like this. Gently, Aziraphale snaked his other hand around the demon’s waist, pulling them together even closer. They lingered there, body pressed against body, cheek on cheek. It was warm. And right. They could feel the other’s breath with every inhale and exhale.
The demon slowly melted into the touch, his arms wrapping around Aziraphale’s shoulders hesitantly, fingers trailing the skin of his upper back and nape.
“Soffft,” he whispered appreciatively, though barely audible, as he leaned closer.
The angel hummed and gently pressed a kiss on the demon’s cheekbone. He put all his affection into that gesture, to let Crowley know that he was allowed. Allowed to love. To be vulnerable. To be soft. To let his guard down. That he was safe.
Aziraphale felt the grip of slender fingers tighten on his shoulders, but then Crowley exhaled with a deep, staggering breath and slumped into the touch. His head tilted sideways, into the crook of Aziraphale’s arm. His dark wings wrapped around both of them like a warm blanket. Aziraphale sighed contently, pressing another kiss on the demon’s cheek. He closed his eyes, lingering in the divine feeling of their bodies pressed together, without the usual protective layers of fabric between them. They were meant to be like this, and it was a pity it took them so long to acknowledge that.
Crowley sighed, his breath brushing against the angel’s shoulder, leaning limply into his embrace. His thumbs started caressing Aziraphale’s skin, one hand trailing down to his shoulder blades.
Suddenly very aware of his own wings, Aziraphale hummed and unfurled them, allowed them passage into the physical world, like Crowley had done earlier. His deepest essence rejoiced at the stretch of his muscles. A sigh escaped his throat. It had also been a long time for him to unfurl his feathers like that. His primaries brushed against the insides of Crowley’s wings and a shiver ran through both of them. With a content hum, Crowley tucked the angel’s wings between his own, the inside curve of the limbs shaping perfectly around Aziraphale’s. Minutes passed in comfortable silence, and they lingered in the intimate embrace.
Crowley was the first to move. He turned his head to the right, forehead leaning against Aziraphale’s temple. When the angel opened his eyes, big golden ones were already fixated on his face. Relief washed over him when he noticed the calm expression on Crowley’s face, no trace left of his former distress.
“You alright, dear?” Aziraphale asked quietly, the palm of his left hand gently caressing the demon’s waist, trailing the hint of ribs and muscles under his warm skin.
“M’yea. Have been worse.”
Aziraphale chuckled and pulled away a little, to look at him properly. The demon’s eyes darted to his wings and widened in surprise.
“What happened to your wings?” he asked, straightening his back and stared at the prospect in wonder. Heat flushed to the angel’s cheeks, and he smiled sheepishly, his arms falling down to the demon’s sides. A shiver ran through his body when Crowley reached out and let his fingertips run over the colourful feathers, brown and grey and blue and rust-red and cream-white.
There was a shimmer in his eyes, the same that combined surprise with awe and made Crowley’s expression light up.
He felt oddly exposed under the demon’s intense stare.
But his wings weren’t part of his human corporation. They were an extension of his angelic essence, his true form. And somehow, that made him feel much more naked in front of the demon than baring his human corporation.
He was an angel. He always had been. But spending a millennia-long life pretending to be human, had changed his perception of himself.
For centuries he had to hide his wings from the humans. Most of them had been afraid when he unfurled them. And after some time, he had figured out that the humans were much more likely to listen to him when he approached them as one of their kind.
“I was fed up with that white. After all that time in Heaven I was in dire need of a change,” he explained with burning cheeks.
A barking laugh escaped Crowley’s mouth, eyes gleaming in joy, the sound vibrating in Aziraphale’s chest. He cupped Aziraphale’s face in his hands, still giggling, and kissed him passionately on the mouth.
“You really are enough of a bastard worth knowing,” Crowley grinned when he broke the kiss and his eyes softened. Determination persisted in his expression, “I love you.”
The declaration echoed through the room, suddenly so quiet that Aziraphale thought Crowley might have stopped time. The demon seemed utterly shaken by his own statement. He blinked, then a blush painted his cheeks and ears redder than his hair, even his feathers started ruffling. Aziraphale was speechless, unable to process what just happened. He stared into these beautiful golden eyes and felt like his heart had to explode any second now.
He threw himself into Crowley’s arms, pulling him into a tight embrace. He nuzzled his face in the crook of his neck, hands buried deep into the black feathers. He felt the demon’s palm, softly cupping the back of his head, returning the tight embrace.
“I love you too, you beautiful creature,” the angel whispered against Crowley’s skin, who was pulling him even closer, “Of course I do. I always did.”
Wings tightened around him, pressing them closer together, until there was no air between their corporations anymore. As if they were one. He felt a miracle tug on his corporation, pulling him through space.
He smiled dizzily when Crowley pulled away, cheeks still flushed pink. They were now standing in Crowley’s bedroom at the first floor of the cottage.
“Would you mind joining me, angel?” Crowley asked quietly.
Aziraphale stared at him, a blush creeping to his face.
“That depends,” he replied, and Crowley smirked at him.
“On what?” he asked playfully. Aziraphale huffed with a grin. He sat down on the soft mattress and scooted to the headrest, leaning against a pillow, his soft wings stretched out to both of his sides. The demon followed him hesitantly, laying on his side next to the angel, propped up on one arm, wings sprawled behind him like a sea of brilliant black.
“On what your intentions were to bring me up here,” Aziraphale said with feigned innocence. The demon hummed in amusement and slid closer, leaning over to the angel, scrutinising him for a moment. He seemed to fight with himself for a second, but then the demon slid back next to him on the bed and placed his head on his chest. His slender arm snaked around his belly, and he nestled himself against Aziraphale’s side, legs entangling. An ebony wing spread across them like a dark blanket. The angel adjusted his posture, wrapped an arm around Crowley’s shoulder and placed a kiss on his hairline. For a significant time, silence stretched between them.
“Angel?” Crowley finally asked and propped his chin on the angel’s chest, “Did you want me to bring you here for something … y’know … else?”
Aziraphale swayed his head for a moment, thinking about that question.
“I don’t know. Did you?”
Crowley smirked, then lay his head back on Aziraphale’s chest.
“Nah,” he finally announced and slumped into the angel’s embrace lazily, “I’ll leave that to the humans.”
The angel chuckled and pulled him closer, burying his face in the crimson strands of Crowley’s hair.
“That’s alright then.”
He smiled a giddy little smile and stroked the demon’s feathers.
“You know I’m going to force you to stay here with me all night, yes?” Crowley teased and pulled Aziraphale closer with his arms, legs and wings. The angel hummed amused and kissed his hairline again.
“What a shame, dearest. Very demonic of you.”
“Mmh, yes. T’was my evil plan all along.”
They both chuckled and stilled again. It had something peaceful, just lying down and lingering in their embrace. Aziraphale sighed and closed his eyes, cheek leaning against the demon’s hair. Time passed slowly and with every minute, Crowley slumped deeper into Aziraphale’s arms, drifting away into sleep once again, the wing draping over them growing heavier as his body lost all its tension. After some time, he started snorting quietly, a soft noise that made Aziraphale’s heart swell with love.
He kissed the demon’s head again, smiling to himself, noticing the weariness that pulled at his conscience. With another sigh of content, he gave in to the luring temptation.
There would be a tomorrow.
And a day after that.
An eternity to fill with laughter. With love. With moments like this.
What a wonderful thought, the angel mused to himself, wrapping his arms closer around the demon.
And a happy smile clung to his lips when he joined his demon in his slumber.