Chapter Text
"Oh dear me, that was very depressing" Aziraphale muttered, arms crossed over his chest, glasses hanging from the tip of his nose as he eyed the slick television with a scrunched expression.
"It's a horror film angel, what did you expect" Crowley grumbled, long limbs sprawled over the cool leather sofa. His head was supported by a bony hand, thin elbow against the arm of the sofa they both lounged on. His socked feet barely touched Aziraphale's thigh, as they experimented with a domestic bliss none of them had ever known.
"I rather thought humans would shy away from such things. Their lives seem awfully short to dwell on such terrible topics." A few empty glasses hung on Crowley's modern coffee table, and an open window let in a delightful summer evening breeze.
"Films have evolved since the silent ones, you know" Crowley mocked quietly, stretching a long arm to reach the slick remote they had both placed near the empty glasses of vintage red wine. Aziraphale answered the demon's jab with an indignant scoff, although much couldn't be said in his defence. He really had never been one for modern indulgences. Outside of food, that is.
They had been going on like this, spending more and more time together in their respective abodes, just enjoying the other's presence, not once mentioning what led them here in the first place. Crowley's desperate attempt to keep the angel by his side as he'd been for the last six millennia hung in the air around them - a kiss, a desperately and wonderfully human act, a plea to not be left behind. Aziraphale could still feel the ghost of the demon's lips on his whenever he closed his eyes for a moment. Warm, soft, loving. Months had gone by since, and now that their respective employers were dealing with each other and their own bosses had fled together, they finally had time to just be. Not that they knew how to be a group. A group of the two of them. A couple, one could say. None of them had ever tried. Infinite, powerful creatures they were, but the nuances of romance still escaped them like sand between a child's fingers.
So, they chose to just be. Long days spent walking around St. James Park, followed by scrumptious meals at different spots all over London. Often, these days, one would follow the other into their home, a film would be watched, or some drinks would be had, or they would simply exist in silence next to one another. Or perhaps, if they were lucky, a combination of all the above.
Today was no different. Crowley picked a horror film he had been keen on watching, ignoring Aziraphale's weak protests with a "we'll do your thing next time, angel".
Next time. It was delightful to know there would most certainly be a next time, now that they were free.
"Here, you pick the next one. But none of that romance-y stuff angel, I don't want to fall asleep" the demon grumbled, tossing the remote gently onto Aziraphale's lap. After a few moments of staring at the remote through his glasses as if it were a creature with two heads and five tails, Aziraphale sighed. "How you are able to operate this thing i will never understand, my boy. There are hardly any buttons".
"Buttons are a thing of the past, angel. This is an apple TV" Crowley paused and felt the angel's sideways glance. "Don't you even dare make a joke about it" he grumbled in false indignancy. "Just point it where you want it to go. S'simple, really". And so Aziraphale did. And though he struggled, he managed to point the remote and get it to comply with what he wanted. Hovering over a romance-y looking film thumbnail, he turned his head gently towards his paramour, if he could call the demon that, and with the most pouty expression he could manage, he said: "Oh come on, I know you secretly love these ones".
Crowley looked away from the angel's face with a grumble, exposing his gritted teeth for a moment and snaking his head as he always did when his heart knew he'd give into Aziraphale's wish but his brain was still trying to deny it. "Fine," he finally let out, plopping his head down against the arm rest fully, both his long arms hanging off the black leather sofa. He could practically feel the smug smile on Aziraphale's face, that irritating, charming idiot. "But if I end up snoring again, I don't want to hear anything about it."
"I find your snoring rather endearing." Aziraphale spoke with a shy smile, his blue eyes now fixed upon the large screen of the television. Crowley would never admit it, but a warmth spread over his cheeks, and in a pointless attempt to disguise his enjoyment of being paid a compliment, he lightly kicked his leg, tapping on Aziraphale's thigh as a response.
"You juvenile creature." Aziraphale said with an amused eye roll. "You know, you'd most certainly benefit from learning some manners." And with that, ignoring the mumbled protests that fled from the demon's mouth, he pressed play, and a very romance-y film indeed started to play.
Halfway through, they were both still awake, quietly watching and sometimes interrupting the silence to comment (or rather make fun, where Crowley was concerned). Aziraphale's hand rested gently on the demon's ankle, one of the many little shows of affection and intimacy they'd slowly started getting comfortable sharing. At the end of the film, Crowley snaked himself upright, some of his scarlet hair hanging over his forehead, which he inefficiently tried to fix by running a long, bony hand through it. "Alright angel, what do you fancy doing now?" Aziraphale glanced at his pocket watch, noting that it was past two in the morning.
"It's awfully late, I have a bookshop to open in the morning" he said, glancing over at the demon's now upright body.
"When was the last time you sold any books?" Crowley asked, a hint of mockery in his voice. After a short silence, he added "You could stay here. If you like." Aziraphale's cheeks reddened a bit at the prospect, and he turned his head so he would not look Crowley in the eye. "Oh, I don't know" he began, uncertainty in his voice. "Your flat is rather empty, you know". "It's called minimalism, angel." Crowley corrected, standing from his position to make his way into the kitchen.
Glassware could be heard clinking together for a moment, before he emerged with two intricate glasses with whiskey inside. "A nightcap." He explained, settling down on the couch again, this time closer to Aziraphale, handing over one of the glasses.
Crowley did not want the angel to leave. Uncertainty hung in the air, after they had kissed, that is. A desperate action it may have been, but a felt one nonetheless. Strange how it took outside intervention for Crowley to realise what he felt in his corporation every time Aziraphale was close was love. And sure, he knew the angel loved him, but angels love everything, all of God's creatures, wretched as they may be. But after their lips parted for the first time after having felt one another, the angel... stayed. Crowley knew how much he cared about his duty, how much Aziraphale trusted he could make Heaven a better place. Yet he stayed. But now, its almost as if nothing transpired between them. How irritating it was that none of them knew how to be together. They didn't know how to cross the line into a proper romantic relationship. They'd watched humans be in love over the centuries they've been on this Earth together. Crowley was even sure he had seen how they fall in love in a Richard Curtis film. Or maybe that was all his own fantasy. How he craved to let the angel know he was loved. That all those thousands of years pretending they were nothing more than acquaintances or friends had worn away at his soul. Or whatever demons are supposed to have in it's place. But now he was no better than a teenager experiencing his first crush. He didn't know what to do, and he felt awkward knowing the angel trusted him to be the cool, courageous and more knowledgeable on all human matters one.
Aziraphale himself had been battling with that delicious ghost of a kiss for the months that had rolled by since. He had started allowing himself to sit closer to Crowley, to let go of the guilt and paranoia that came from spending time with him, now that he knew Heaven wasn't watching. But an angel he was, and though he had done a good job at blending in with the humans he adored, he was still naïve in all matters of human connections. But oh, he'd known he loved Crowley since the Beginning. Any excuse to bring the demon to his side was a good one. No one in the Universe could make Aziraphale feel the way Crowley did, but angel he was and with that came a serious impairment when it comes to expressing feelings of such a nature. So they sipped at their whiskey, only a few centimetres of sofa between them, enjoying the warm breeze and the smell of London that wafted through the open window.
*
A few days passed since - a few days of dinners, of night caps at each other's homes, of casual promenades through St. James Park. Today was no different, after all. A dinner at the Ritz, something they hadn't done in a while, certainly not since they had become... whatever it is they were. After a few glasses of cool Laurent-Perrier, the desserts had arrived, and like always, Aziraphale indulged as he did, and Crowley sat beside him, chin resting upon a large hand, observing the result of his temptation through dark lenses.
"Oh, Crowley, they have really outdone themselves this time. This dessert du jour is simply outstanding." Aziraphale commented, elegantly wiping the corners of his mouth with a soft white cloth napkin.
"Do you believe they get the lemons from Southern Italy?" He continued, having placed his napkin next to his plate on the table. Absentmindedly, his left hand rested on the table, the fine linen under his fingertips a testament of the luxury they allowed themselves. "I never had lemons quite as delicious as the ones we had in Italy in 194-" His voice failed him once he felt a warm hand rest on top of his. The angel glanced at Crowley from the corner of his eye, only to notice he too was feeling flustered at the sudden contact. The demon looked forward, a hint of red colouring his freckled cheeks and the tips of his ears, but his posture didn't betray his racing heart, as he continued to lounge in his chair, legs spread open and his free arm resting over his thigh.
None of them spoke. They weren't quite sure they could. They had touched each other's hands before, naturally, but now like this. Now, the contact felt like a thunderbolt through their bodies, like their hearts would beat out of their chests and their skin would be set ablaze. Because now, it was different. It was... unnecessary. A whim. The demon had touched Aziraphale's hand simply because he could. Because he wanted to. And so they stayed like that for a bit, watching the humans pass in front of the windows of the elegant dining room.
"Alright, angel?" Crowley broke the silence after a while, struggling to pretend he wasn't trembling, feigning interest in the glass of champagne he had just picked up, staring at the golden, bubbly liquid with uncharacteristic curiosity.
"Yes" Aziraphale answered, far too quickly perhaps, feeling scared the contact would be broken. "It's... It's rather nice, I'll admit." He confessed, taking a sip of his champagne to disguise the pinkness of his cheeks.