Archive of Our Own ^beta

"You can stay at my place if you like."

Crowley, with his whole sympathetic heart, had meant that as a friend on the bench with Aziraphale.

They both were exhausted from saving all of the world and its blissfully ignorant inhabitants and anticipating the worst to come at that moment for their futures. But he knew he had to throw a lifeline to his friend the instant he quietly reminded him his bookshop was gone. That immediate guilt in his core of wishing he didn't have to say that, but he couldn't lie. So all he could do was invite his friend to come along. 

All that yearning consumed them for so long, hobbled by the barriers of their expected roles.  The hobbles dissolved at once that one night and all that mattered was how close they became. Even after six thousand years and knowing the other inside out, they both silently put aside their last barriers. Crowley convinced his natural-born enemy to get on that bus and leave everything he had once believed behind. He took his hand and tugged him into a space that was only meant for Crowley or anyone he dared let close.

The plan was hatched, the faces were chosen wisely, and Heaven and Hell were none the wiser to their ruse. They were free. Every day was a new one to be and do everything they had ever wanted to before, but closer and unfettered.

And there was a marked change for the Demon. Out and about he would appear unchanged from his stylish cool self. The instant he was around Aziraphale, he was content. He was cackling at jokes.Yet as each day dawned to the next, Crowley was only thinking of seeing Aziraphale that day. He plotted down the seconds of where they'd go, what they'd see. 

The burning feeling arose in Crowley like a Phoenix breaking free; how could he express this to Aziraphale? And not destroy what could be the Angel’s tipping point.

 A tiny niggle in the back of his mind worried him, though; it didn't matter if he was an angel once, he was supposed to be the antithesis of angelhood. Would they find a point that they would no longer mesh?  If Crowley was being overbearing, Aziraphale was not letting it on.  He was his expectantly delighted self at everything they did together, even if it was just lounging in mutual calm silence in the dim bookshop.

He was an Angel out of Heaven, now in his own personal Heaven.

Crowley fretted he would be forevermore content just meeting up and having Crowley go along with adventures. 

“ Did he ever… want more with us? I swear he did. He said I went too fast for him, now have we caught up? At the same speed?”

Since the world was saved and their hides as well, Crowley figured he had all the time in the world but no more time to lose to answer this.

He would confront the Angel one way or another.

Increasingly, Crowley was spending any free evening he had at the bookshop, talking all night with his friend. Not that this was anything out of the ordinary from before, but it was the perfect confidence boost for Crowley. Every single moment he felt like he was digging deeper into the person he thought he knew. And every moment he felt like he could say more about himself, even things he thought he never could.

There would be no better moment to say what he had always desired but couldn’t even hope to.

Until now.

___________________

"Aziraphale," Crowley finally eased out after sufficient liquor lubricated his nerves on one of their evenings together.

Aziraphale gave an expectant calm smile.

"Hmmm? "

"Ah, would you..." Crowley looked at the side of the settee and uncrossed his legs, pulling his body towards an armrest.

"...would you like to sit next to me?"

Aziraphale looked confused.

"Why?"

Crowley hitched his breath.

"Uhm, well, I thought you might not be comfortable in that chair and yanno... this is big enough for both of us." He proffered a helpful shrug. "And we could... talk... quiet. Not shout across the room..."

"We're not shouting, dear. Are you... don't you want to..." he gestured vaguely with his free hand, "Spread out? Like you do?"

Crowley had no recourse for this. He expected a more bashful reaction.

"Uhm, yeah. I suppose. Nevermind, Angel. Just trying to be nice. That's all."

"Nice?" Aziraphale shifted to victorious, simpering wickedly. "Did you just say 'nice'?"

Crowley winced.

"I said nevermind, Angel. I just..."

Aziraphale had already risen. Passing his glass from hand to hand, he shrugged off his over jacket gracefully, draping it on the bare arm of the settee. He slipped smoothly down alongside Crowley, relaxing into the backrest.

Crowley's heart hammered as he slowly looked over.

Aziraphale looked entertained while he sighed.

"Well then, thank you, Crowley. This is nice. Now, what would you like to talk quietly about?"

Crowley opened his mouth and swiveled his head, only to find he couldn't say a thing. All day he had amassed a tome of things he planned to say. Casual conversation starters that could segue into something else. Anything else. Everything else. And now he was gaping at the relaxed Angel like a fool.

"Oh, well," he spouted emphatically, "I meant that figuratively... hypothetically... I mean, like, what you like to talk about, huh?"

Aziraphale bobbed his brows. He took a delicate sip from his glass. Crowley pretended to gaze into the depths of his goblet thoughtfully as he side-eyed his fellow sitter.

"Ooooh," Aziraphale sighed, "Well, I will gladly talk anything with you. Our recent conversations have been superb if I may say. Funny how we've talked before for so many years, and it's like we're really talking to each other now?"

Aziraphale hardly sounded philosophical. On the contrary, he sounded whimsical.

"Is he... teasing? Does he even know what he's doing?"

Crowley nodded a little too readily.

"Oh, yeah. Damn straight. I mean, we have our celestial shackles off, nothing like... airing things out we didn't even know we were afraid to talk about. Am I right?" 

Crowley finished with an overzealous shrug and smirk. Aziraphale just looked catty while rambling on.

"I mean... afraid to talk about in the open! Like we always knew the Higher Ups could, yanno, hear what we were thinking. Now, I don't even know what to do with all this conversation. Seriously, Angel, it's like..."

"Crowley, dear?"

"Yes, Angel?"

Aziraphale blinked slowly.

"Is there something you are trying to ask me?"

Crowley's seemingly human body, despite housing an Occult form, had some normal human reactions he rarely experienced.

He became very faint as sounds pinched off in his head and the light dimmed in his vision.

Aziraphale's alarmed expression was the life vest he needed to pull himself from drowning.

"Crowley?! Are you alright? Whatever is the matter?" 

Aziraphale had snapped away his drink and firmly held Crowley's shoulders.

"Are you... going to faint? Do you need to lie down?"

“Dammit, man!” he heard his voice yelling tinnily in his mind, “Do something! Say something! He was either toying around or wanted me to say something!  ASK him something you thought of earlier that you can bloody not recall at this second!”

"Can I brush out your wings?" Crowley spat frantically.

Aziraphale was stunned.

"My... what?"

"You know, brush them out?"

"Are you suggesting they are unkempt?"

"No! NO! Oh Christ, Angel..." Crowley's little airplane of confidence tail spinning back into a nosedive.

"No! I just... when I was," he resumed with a croak; "When I was an angel we'd all do that, remember? And uhm... oh satan nevermind. I'm sorry, I'm drunk."

Aziraphale looked concerned, twisting his gaze.

"Crowley..."

Crowley turned his face away and gulped down the rest of his glass.

"There! Now I'm thoroughly drunk and am filled with regret."

Aziraphale's hand reached out to touch the back of Crowley's as he set the empty glass aside.

"Crowley," he whispered. Crowley lifted up his slitted eyes and saw that Azriaphale was teary. .

Crowley was ready to panic at how gloriously the whole talk had backfired until Aziraphale grinned.

"Are you... asking... to..."

"Is it too much? I'm sorry, I thought that angels liked touching and all..."

Aziraphale was now holding one of his hands tighter.

"Yes, please. Crowley. I thought you'd never ask."

Lightheadedness returned, but Aziraphale stepped in before he could faint.

"Please! Would you? Unless you don't want to tonight."

"If you would like," Crowley murmured, beginning to blush.

The face before him smiled until the eyes were squinting.

"I would like nothing more from you."

 Crowley bolted up, snapping his fingers to make sure the windows were shuttered and the door was still locked.

He snatched up a footstool and set it on the emptiest spot on the floor. 

He gestured to it with both hands dramatically.

Aziraphale moved over as Crowley urged him to sit.

"C'mon! Sit! And snap them out, I'll stand back."

Aziraphale stopped short.

"Crowley," he said, "Don't you remember? "

"How to do it? Oh, I might be rusty, angel, but it'll come back, I am sure..."

Aziraphale grabbed his arms firmly.

"I can bring them up, but if you want to touch them, you should do it yourself." 

"Oh, right. Forgot that."

Crowley barely remembered wing etiquette. Demons were not as particular as angels. Truth be told, many didn't even get to keep their wings after they Fell. But he recalled that each other's wings needed permission to be touched, friends helped others groom them, and closer friends could bring them up.

Crowley was caught; it had been so long, and he'd only done it a handful of times. 

"Oh, uh, sure, just turn around, and I'll pop them right in. Up. Whatever you call it." 

Aziraphale obeyed, patiently holding his hands together before himself.

Crowley stood close, staring at the back of the blonde head. He lowered his hand and tensed his fingers for a snap.

"Crowley, not a MIRACLE," Aziraphale chided over his own shoulder. "Do you need help? I know it's been years for you."

Crowley remained with a tight mouth as Aziraphale stood, turning fully to face him, raising his arms slightly.

"Reach under my arms with yours, dear."

Crowley leaned in against the worn vest and button-up shirt, his head below Aziraphale's.

"Good. Now, search with your fingertips... a little higher... move your hands in tandem... and start with your bottom fingers."

Crowley fussed and grumbled like a man fishing for something in a dark closet to wear. The twist of annoyance was building in his stomach until he felt his fingertips drag through something. He slowed and massaged downward into a sensation like a glowing light. Aziraphale stopped standing ridgid to rest his arms around Crowley's shoulder. 

He let out a warm exhalation down Crowley's neck.

Crowley, still at a strange angle with the side of his face pressed under Aziraphale's chin, felt boneless.

"Haven't done this in so long. I hated this before but now..."

With a crack, the white wings appeared and shook. Crowley righted himself. 

Aziraphale seated, holding the limbs at the best angle he could to not crowd the space.

"Ready."

Crowley snapped out of his trance to move behind Aziraphale.

"Uh, shout if I... do anything wrong," he muttered.

Crowley's fingers trembled as he reached out. He let his tips push through the down near the base, pressing gently. Aziraphale turned his head upward slightly.

Crowley pushed like a person pressing through butter and trying not to leave too much of a mark. He gave his tips a small wiggle.

"Good?" he asked.

The head nodded.

Increasing the pressure, he let the tips push around. This way, that way. His confidence grew, and he began raking along the arms and through the longest feathers' shafts.

The wings twitched and jumped under his touch, but he kept combing with his fingers, relishing in the softness and strength.

Aziraphale turned his head after several moments.

"Dear, are you going to brush them out smooth?" he politely queried.

"Oh, I am Angel. Don't get your wings in a knot!"

Crowley continued his broad combing for several more moments.

The wings gave a small jump as Aziraphale stood and turned to face Crowley.

"What?" Crowley hiccuped, holding his hands up. "What?! Did... if I was doing something wrong, please tell me. Sorry, I am out of practice but give a demon a break for trying."

Again the plane-crashing in his stomach returned when Aziraphale gave him the most inscrutable look he had ever seen.

Aziraphale gently grasped him by the elbows in a way that said he knew Crowley would be upset but refused to let him storm off.

"Crowley, my dear, you are doing fine. I will be honest with you since you are rather honest; you are very much out of practice. Your touch is no different than a human being asked to do the same. A fine job, but that is not how we tend to our feathers."

Crowley pursed his lips and looked down, unsure how to respond.

"I did better than that. He's just... am I just being too pushy? Does he really not want me to touch him? Is he on to me and trying to tell me to stop?"

Aziraphale tugged the Demon’s lanky body closer and lowered his voice.

"So, let me say this; You just allowed yourself to be someone you were never supposed to be again and performed a gesture that is everything you can give. That already touches me to my soul more than anything your hands can attempt."

Crowley shuffled his feet, torn between wanting to storm off or blush harder at those words.

"Yeah, no worries," he muttered between half-open lips. "What are friends for, eh?"

"Now for me to return the kind gesture and rekindle your memory. Please."

Now it was Crowley's turn to stand ridgid as Aziraphale embraced in an oversized hug, reaching behind Crowley's back.

"Oh, sure. If you like," Crowley whimpered.

The Demon was trying not to twitch and shake as he felt the first fingertips stroke down his back deftly. Like a bow on a string drawing forth sound, Crowley couldn't control his own wings as they fanned out.

Aziraphale guided Crowley’s limp body to sit and stepped behind him. Wordlessly his fingers went to work. Starting at the hilts where it began at his back, massaging upward, ghosting over every long feather with a stroke, pressing deeper and deeper.

Crowley's body threatened to collapse. He clutched his knees until his knuckles were white. His eyes closed, and unconsciously his head tipped back.

All sense of time was lost in the calm embrace of the Shop, until a voice reached out through the haze.

"There. Done, dear."

"Done... what?"

"Your feathers. They are done now."

It took a few seconds for Crowley to remember how to flap his own wings. He gave the gentlest flick, marveling how smooth and silent they were. How refreshed.

"Aye, uhm, thanks, Aziraphale. I guess I was a little out of tune."

Aziraphale leaned back as the demon righted himself, dodging the wings.

"Oh, practice will make the master, Crowley. Just keep practicing. You are welcome to do so for me anytime. If you like."

"If you like," Crowley said under his breath as he looked down at Aziraphale. The welcoming pitch in his voice without a touch of condescending, the fussy motions, the little assuring smile. Crowley knew these like his heartbeat by now. 

"I just wish... I could find the right words to let you see what they do to me. What they HAVE done for. Making me want to know you since the beginning."

Aziraphale twitched his mouth sideways and stared back in confusion.

"Are you alright, Crowley? Really, I can tell something is a little off for you."

Crowley hooked his jeans with his thumbs and slouched his body and wings. 

Aziraphale was troubled and began to worry his pinky ring, just as Crowley knew he would.

"Dear, I hope I didn't offend you."

"No, no, Angel. Not in the least."

Placing his hands upon Crowley's shoulders, Aziraphale softened his tone.

"You have me worried, dear. Please, if you have something you want to share and are afraid of hurting me somehow, well, please just... tell me."

Crowley was staring deeper into those blue eyes than he ever had, thrilled to be diving into those waters he had only skimmed. But instead of relief, a grey melancholia filled his chest. 

"It won't be the same if I tell if I say how much I care about him. I love him, and he's never understood it all these years. We're friends, and I wish it were more. He might just… go with it not to hurt my feelings and that’s… not what I want."

"Aziraphale," Crowley murmured. 

A blink assured Crowley he had the Angel's total attention.

Crowley flicked his wings and looked downward.

"Whatever I say ... now, this minute, please let's, uh... always be friends. M'kay?"

Aziraphale obviously wanted to ask more particulars but refrained with a patient nod.

"Yes, of course."

He was still grasping Crowley's shoulders, looking up into the face above his.

"Oh Christ, now I have him worried sick. Just look at him. Please don't... just.."

"Angel..." Crowley leaned in one smooth motion, tilting his head, and pressed his lips against Aziraphale's, just like he had wanted to for six thousand years. Aziraphale jumped and then went still, no resisting or pushing. Crowley lingered a few seconds, even raising one hand up to touch under Aziraphale's chin, closing his eyes before he pulled away.

When he dared to open them, the first thing he saw was Aziraphale's eyes, larger than he had ever seen them, and a startled look on his countenance. 

"Sorry," Crowley hissed, his cheeks reddening. "Sorry. Aziraphale. I just... I should have asked, and I went too far..."

"Crowley, no!" Aziraphale looked pained.

"Yeah, sorry, I just... oh for Hell's sake I just..."

His turning away was yanked back as Aziraphale made him face him again.

"Crowley," he whimpered.

Crowley slacked at the sight; Of all the things he did not want to upset him and Aziraphale looked shaken.

"I'm sorry, angel, I just thought... after all this time... we were..."

"Oh Crowley," Aziraphale wavered, shaking his head. "I'm such a fool. Why did I never ask you?"

Crowley slowly looked deeper into the watering blue eyes.

"Why... didn't...?"

" I ask you!" Aziraphale looked terrified. " I'm the one that should be sorry! Crowley, please, ask me anything you want! Are you trying to tell me that you want to be closer?"

Crowley pretended to put thought into the words before he nodded.

"Yeah, I guess that's what I'm trying to say."

Aziraphale looked devastated and rapturous in one sweeping motion. He shuddered out a breath, pulling at Crowley. It was his turn to tilt his chin to the side as he kissed back. Crowley lashed his arms up in a locking hug that he couldn't bring himself to unlock. His wings folded down and covered, enshrouding them deeper in devotion. 

There was nothing frantic, nothing unsure, nothing forced. How, despite their physical differences, they fit effortlessly together like mosaic tiles. Crowley was pressing down but supporting Aziraphale’s back and head with his hands. All these years, the thought of running his fingers through that curly hair or down the curve of his spine was akin to a recurring dream he was perpetually forced to wake from. Aziraphale held on masterfully, dancing one hand between Crowley’s wing bases, the other curled down behind his neck, doing its own dance.

"Has he been thinking the same thing too? All this time?"

Their mouths eventually parted, though both leaned back a few inches, still agape and eyes staring into the other’s.

Aziraphale's hands hadn't stopped. Crowley didn't want them to stop. But sure as Hell (and Crowley was very familiar with that), that feeling struck.

Aziraphale saw the wince and glimmer in the gaze.

"What... is something... Crowley, please, what is wrong?"

Crowley's wings disappeared with a snap.

He looked pained, tears lining his cheeks.

The sight of Crowley crying was unsettling for Aziraphale. Demons weren't supposed to cry; there was no room for sorrow or remorse for them, just what they inflicted on others. He'd only seen it fewer times than he could count on one hand and knew Crowley wouldn't usually let it be seen. 

"I just... wish I had said something years ago. All this time we..."

"Crowley, didn't you hear me? I wish the same."

"I could have." The anger at himself rose in his voice. "All this time, we could have been..."

Aziraphale guided his drifting gaze back with a touch to the chiseled chin.

"Of course. We could have. We didn't. We had more time than any mortal is granted, and we still wasted it. We should have infinite time, I hope, to make up for it or use it as we can and should." 

Crowley still looked pained.

"I'm a demon. Everything is just.. taken away... Just as I..."

Aziraphale moved a hand over his mouth. Aziraphale knew Crowley had been stripped as a demon from expecting to love or reciprocate love to another, yet somehow had broken that mold. The best thing he could do was guide his friend along.

"Listen, love," he whispered, "I know you are a demon, and self-torture comes with your nature. But it doesn't matter now. We're on our side, remember? It's us, and what we were told no longer matters. All that matters is exactly what you are trying to accept, and I've been too afraid to say. So--"

He removed his hand and swallowed hard.

"Anthony J. Crowley, my best friend, and comrade, I love you."

The Demon's appearance became unlike he had ever shown. Perhaps the first time meeting on the wall was as close to this moment, the cheeky but charming grin. But no, something even more delicate. Those slitted eyes always glimmered shades of fire, but now they glowed. As the whole room dimmed to Aziraphale, all he could see was their warm radiance.

"I love you too," Crowley beamed. 

"So, Crowley," Aziraphale proposed as he grabbed one of his hands to grasp and kneaded it, "What would you like us to do now? Hmmm?"

The Demon had not actually thought beyond this very moment.

Crowley shrugged.

"Well, I dunno. And I don't care, as long as we can just... what?"

Aziraphale was glaring through narrowed eyes.

"What? Angel."

Aziraphale replied with an overly dramatic eye-rolling exasperated huff. 

"You were just showing emotion over the years spent dithering, and all you can say is 'I don't know and don't care?"

"I mean, we could... sit together and drink and..."

Crowley stopped himself as the look grew more skeptical.

"Hmm, we could," Aziraphale said, "Or, perhaps I could rekindle some memories on what devotion means."

Crowley felt his boots leave the floor and his center of balance tip. With no apparent strain, Aziraphale hoisted him up with a sweep. 

"Ha, cute, Angel." 

Aziraphale clutched him tighter, and it took every ounce of restraint Crowley had from admitting he liked being held like this.

"I may be in love, but carried like an infant might be crossing a line."

Crowley went slack, raising the back of a hand to his forehead limply.

"Gonna carry me over the threshold now, huh?"

They both were smirking at the joke until Aziraphale's face melted into shock.

He looked back at Crowley and hoisted him closer.

"Could... would... Crowley?"

Crowley slid his arms around the Angel’s shoulders.

"Aziraphale, I..."

Aziraphale swept to the settee and dramatically sat, tenderly holding Crowley on his lap.

The Demon could only grasp gently around Aziraphale's neck as the Angel stared back in rapt hope.

"Crowley, my friend, confidant, and love, will you please be mine?"

Aziraphale held Crowley's hands, circling his thumbs on their backs.

Crowley was speechless. And embarrassed. For having been the one who seemed like he'd never act on their togetherness before, Aziraphale was certainly making up for it.

"I... only if you will be mine. How's that? If you’d like?"

Aziraphale couldn't radiate any brighter. He leaned in for a kiss, cupping Crowley up to him. 

____________

Over the next few weeks, Aziraphale began letting their relationship into the open. Crowley still had the knee-jerk reaction to avoid touch, a peck on the cheek, or being called by a pet name. But that diminished as the days passed, and Aziraphale blissfully ignored any stares and side-eyeing from people. Soon, Crowley seemed to invite it, even dare it. 

Crowley let himself relearn everything he had been told to forget. Though he knew Aziraphale better than anyone and going into a full relationship wouldn't be easy, he was shocked that it wasn't so difficult. The ripples that all this set in motion were calming more with each passing hour. Though Crowley knew they were versed in all things with each other, there was much to learn, and relearn. Aziraphale was a calm teacher reteaching Crowley every gentle step to take. 

________________

"Hello, dear!" Aziraphale greeted as he handed a book over to a customer.

Crowley closed the shop door behind himself and pretended to ignore the sideways glance from the human purchasing a book.

"Hey Angel, " he replied, looking around the shop, still donning his sunglasses.

"Thank you ever so much," Aziraphale finished as the customer departed. The clang of the doorbell assured their privacy.

Crowley dropped his casual indifference to lower his glasses and grin. Aziraphale folded his hands on the desk and beamed back.

"So dear, what have you been up to? You wanted to surprise me?"

Crowley could barely stop smirking, holding his hands behind his back.

"Well, not really a surprise-surprise, Angel," he said as he strolled closer. "More of, well, I know you proposed and all. But I think we forgot something."

"Oh?" Aziraphale turned his head. "Forgot what?"

Crowley produced a small black velvet box from behind his back and held it out. Aziraphale only looked through his spectacles with a confused face for a moment before stammering in mirth.

"Crowley, oh really! You don't have to do THAT!"

"I knew you'd want me to!" Crowley grinned.

Aziraphale was fishing for a retort but couldn't stop his smile.

"Oh but... a ring doesn't mean we are married and..."

"Angel, please." Crowley grinned mischievously as he got on a knee and opened the box.

"It's mine to you forever."

The ring was elegantly simple—a band of gold that was aged and well worn at first glance. Aziraphale couldn't stop himself from leaning over the desk when his eyes caught the tiniest glimmers.

He hurried around the desk, never turning his head from the box. Set along the band in the tiniest random points were flecks of pale gems. So tiny, little pinpoints. 

"What... I don't recognize the gems, Crowley. Diamonds?"

Crowley shook his head and bit his bottom lip in excitement.

"Flecks of stardust."

Shock washed over Aziraphale's face. His hands reached out as Crowley removed the ring and grasped one of Aziraphale's hands.

"I knew where to find them. So I had them set in a band that will look like a simple human's band. Only beings like us can see them."

He slipped it over Aziraphale's ring finger.

"And I called them up to shine," Crowley whispered. "I may have forgotten a lot of being an Angel, but there were a few things I couldn't forget."

Aziraphale embraced him as he tried not to cry.

"Crowley..."

"And if you take it out at night, it's even more radiant when it sparkles."

"Crowley... it's perfect."

"Like you," Crowley whispered into the mass of curly hair.

"I can never do anything like this for you if I tried."

"Oh shut it, Angel," Crowley snorted. "You are here. That's a good start."

"Wait!" Aziraphale pulled away and brought his hands together.He yanked off his own signet ring and held it out.

"It shall fit you if I will it to. It's yours from me."

"Angel, that was our Arrangement Ring."

"It's for a New Arrangement."

"But, wait, it's yours! " Crowley protested. "It's... part of who you are!"

"And as long as you have it, I shall have it as well." 

Aziraphale couldn't have looked any more certain in his stance. Crowley realized that was unknowingly like a first engagement when he gave Aziraphale that ring years ago. " Just so we'll always know and remember, " he had said at the time.

"If you like," Crowley conceded.

He slid it on Crowley's ring finger with a nod.

They both held forth their respective hands as Crowley slipped an arm around his partner's shoulder. Aziraphale sighed and leaned against his neck, tenderly.

"Now what, Angel?"

Aziraphale just puffed lightly.

"Oh, perhaps make a date to have a wedding, hmm? Invite a few people."

"Few as possible," Crowley agreed.

"And... perhaps, oh, find someplace else we can live. Keep the shop and your apartment. But, you know..."

Crowley pulled tighter and talked into the locks again.

"Someplace quiet? A cottage? Little out of the way that a strange couple can be That Strange Couple? Hmm? Bring some house plants, and you get a small reading room? Lovely sunsets and the like? Big window with a big sofa by it you can read in by day and watch those sunsets from?"

Aziraphale chuckled, hugging Crowley's waist.

"My dear, you know me too well. It sounds perfect. Don't tell me you have been planning that too?"

Crowley leaned for a kiss as he was reaching a free hand to his jacket pocket. 

"If you like, Angel," he whispered, pulling forth the envelope with the just purchased house title.