Chapter Text
Crowley was cold.
Crowley was unfathomably, desperately, rudely cold. After being so blessedly warm for so very long.
That wouldn't do. He tried to scooch towards where he knew the warmth had been, one hand reaching out to bury itself into welcoming heat. And finding instead only the broken remnants of it.
He let out a very undignified whine. He couldn't quite help it.
Immediately, a soft hand was wrapping around his wrist and an even softer voice was shushing him.
"I'm back, my love," Aziraphale, because of course he had been the source of all that heavenly warmth, whispered, as he slid back underneath the covers and Crowley's arm.
Crowley made a sound that, had he been a little bit more awake, he would have found embarrassing to repeat. But as it were, he did make that sound. He also inched closer, having decided he wasn't risking all of this slipping out of his grasp again.
He hooked a leg over one of the angel's thighs, his arm, already on the other man's stomach, stretching even further until it could wrap around all of him. Let his head rest against a broad chest, let himself sink into soft and warm and perfect.
"My pillow now. Can't leave," he mumbled into the most gorgeous of creatures. Rubbed his head all over Aziraphale's chest just to further his point. Oh, but he could die happy here. Or, rather, if he did die right now, he would be so infinitely pissed.
From above him Aziraphale laughed, a beautiful sound that Crowley craved perhaps just as much as his touch.
"I would think I'm worth slightly more than a simple pillow, darling," the angel huffed, indignant in the sweetest way, even as he wrapped an arm around Crowley's shoulders.
Crowley reached forward to press a finger against soft lips. Such soft, delicious lips. Lips made for kissing and for- For a moment he was grateful his body was too tired to act on the ideas his mind was having.
"Hush now. Pillows don't talk."
He could feel the lips tug into a smile, open slightly underneath his fingers, and he could also imagine slipping them inside the inviting heat. Replacing them with his tongue. His hips twitched against warm muscle, body desperately trying to use the molten desire in his veins as propellant to get him up and moving. Get him to sink into the warm heat of the angel underneath him in a different way.
A kiss was pressed against his hair, while the hand around him slipped down to work the tired muscles of his back.
"Sleep, my darling," Aziraphale whispered, coaxing him closer, until Crowley was laying fully on top of him. Until he was surrendering to the angel's scent and his warmth and all the tension he hadn't known he had been holding in his body was bleeding away.
If Crowley ever decided to die and somehow got into Heaven, he knew it would be like this. Nothing but the give of the angel's body, the scent of vanilla and parchment tickling his nose, the strong hand rubbing up and down his back. His body gave up on waking up. Truthfully, his body gave up on existing. At least as one united, coherent unit and not a series of places Aziraphale was touching him.
He was halfway through falling asleep, brain already pliant and mushy, when a thought struck him. A horrifying one. The chain of events that had led to him experiencing the closest to Heaven he would ever get flashed in the forefront of his mind.
It occurred to him, then, that he had been rather too forward, hadn't he? Climbing Aziraphale like he was something... climbable, his brain remained too weak to come up with a suitable metaphor? Calling him his pillow?
Perhaps sensing his apprehension, Aziraphale himself stiffened underneath him.
"My darling?"
What if he was being too clingy? They hadn't even been dating long and Crowley was already acting like an octopus with separation anxiety. He should probably put some distance between them, he realised. Give up this perfect spot, as if carved for him specifically, in order to ensure he would get to touch Aziraphale again.
"Crowley, are you alright?" said angel asked, hand curling around his shoulder once again. Not pushing him away, though, and the knowledge of that managed to melt away some of the edges of his anxiety.
"Will you be okay? Like this?" Crowley asked, noting the tinge of worry in his voice and trying hard not to cringe away from the other man's touch.
All at once, Aziraphale melted under him, body returning to the relaxed state it had been previously. The hand, too, returned to his back, pressing against him with renewed vigour. Another kiss was pressed against the top of his head as Aziraphale huffed against his hair.
"It would be my honour to be your pillow, my love," the other man whispered above him, sounding entirely too sincere for a sentence as ridiculous as that. Crowley didn't mind it one bit. "Sleep now."
And that was that. He was asleep in seconds.
When Crowley woke up next, the first thing he noticed was that he was cuddling the world's most comfortable pillow. It was fluffy and warm and it fit into his arms perfectly.
It was also snoring lightly.
He didn't have any pillows like that.
Crowley lifted his head, lazily blinking away sleep, as he gazed at the angel in his arms. Aziraphale's head was tilted to the side, no doubt as a result of it being rested against Crowley's own, and there was a soft smile pulling at his lips. With his curls around his head like a halo and his rosy cheeks, he truly looked like an angel. Like the most beautiful thing Crowley had ever laid eyes on.
His heart felt full with all the affection he held for the other man. With the desire to bring him close and shield him and never even think of letting him go.
Unfortunately, so did his bladder. Feel full that was.
He extracted himself as carefully as he could, pressing a kiss to tempting lips to shush the whine escaping from them, the moment Aziraphale felt his hands close around nothing. Promised that he would be back soon, even though he knew the angel was asleep and wouldn't be able to hear him. It felt like a vow, somehow. A private one, mostly made to himself.
He tried to be as quick as possible, doing his business and then washing his face and brushing his teeth, just on the off chance the angel might be awake when he returned. Also, maybe because it made him feel warm, using the toothbrush Aziraphale had presented him with last night, something soft and shy in his eyes as he had said he had bought it for him. His own thing, in Aziraphale's flat. He wondered idly as he gazed at himself in the mirror, how much more of himself could he bring here. How soon before he could make a home for himself, for them both, somewhere. A lovely thought, yes, but perhaps not suitable for right after they had just spent their first night together.
When he came back, Aziraphale was awake. Sitting primly in his tartan pyjamas, hands folded in his lap, back straight, smiling at him with that soft smile. And Crowley hesitated. He tried to channel all the confidence he had felt only a few hours prior, tried to straighten his shoulders, present himself as the alluring creature he had been yesterday.
But he wasn't, though, was he? He had seen himself in the mirror. Hair a right mess, still curly from all the braids and hastily combed through with his fingers in the bathroom. Wearing an old t-shirt Aziraphale had given him, one that barely reached past the middle of his thighs.
The angel still smiled at him, eyes twinkling just like they had yesterday. Crowley swayed forward, pulled by the desire in that gaze, certain that it mirrored his own.
Aziraphale patted the other side of the bed invitingly. Crowley decided to climb onto his lap instead. The only place he was interested in.
The other man's hands were on him immediately, curling around the sides of his face. Holding him still. As if he would ever willingly leave Aziraphale's lap.
"Oh, my darling," the angel whispered, looking into his eyes. "Oh, but you are beautiful, you truly are."
And Crowley, he blamed his sluggish brain and his too loose with affection limbs for this, realised he wasn't wearing his glasses. He felt his eyes widen, felt his eyelashes flutter from the praise. Always too expressive his eyes, always gave him away. It's why he hid them away, wasn't it?
He had thought the moment Aziraphale saw him without his glasses would carry a lot more apprehension than it did. He thought he would dread the fact the angel could see right into his soul, could feel the affection and the, the love, pour out of him. He didn't.
He wanted him to see.
But he also, desperately, wanted to kiss him.
Aziraphale was quicker, pulling him closer and claiming his mouth. And Crowley's body was suddenly very awake. He moaned into the kiss, letting his hands roam over the delicious body he had spent hours laying upon. Over chest and stomach and shoulders. Oh, but it wasn't enough. He needed... He needed more, needed to feel all of him. His mind flashed to the way it had felt yesterday, having Aziraphale on top of him, having his weight bear down on him, feeling so very warm and surrounded by everything he, everything he loved.
That, he needed that.
Aziraphale's own hands had settled on his hips, fingers digging into his sides and it would be so easy- He could-
"Angel, sweetheart," he gasped into the kiss, one of many, and tried to wiggle free. Only, he didn't, not really. His body was very happy where it was and could not be forced to give up the delicious press of chest against his own, even for the promise of something even better.
And then the angel's fingers were running over the edge of Crowley's, Aziraphale's, someone's shirt, toying with the hem and making Crowley forget how to breathe.
"May I?" the angel asked, gazing up at him, even as Crowley's thighs fell open on their own accord. Invited him closer, offered him anything he might want to take. But Aziraphale waited, patiently, nails scraping against tender skin, thumbs running over the insides of Crowley's legs.
The sound he made was one of assent. At least, he hoped it was. He wasn't entirely sure if he had enough brain power to be entirely coherent. He also nodded, the movement wild and desperate, just to be on the safe side. It must have been enough, though, because Aziraphale's fingers were inching up his legs, his palms wide and strong around Crowley's thighs, and, oh, Satan, he needed to ask now because he wouldn't be able to speak later.
"Love, please." Aziraphale's hands were curling around his legs now, tugging him even closer and he twitched. Couldn't sit still with it. It was too much and yet, not enough. Not when he knew what else he could have. "Please, sweetheart, I need you."
"You have me," the angel said, lips pulled into a smile Crowley hurried to erase with his own lips, and teeth, and desperation. Did the other man have to be such a bastard right now?
"Need you closer- Need more," he gasped in between kisses, body vibrating with it. And because things weren't looking good on the whole coherency front, with no chance of improvement any time soon, he also added, urgency making his voice waver, "Need you on top of me. Please."
That made Aziraphale go still for a moment. Well, most of him. His hips did twitch into Crowley's heat, but he knew that was more of an involuntary movement. Just like the lazy grind of his own hips, ever since he had taken his place onto Aziraphale's lap.
And then the hands were slipping out from underneath his shirt and he didn't even have the chance to whine at the loss of clever fingers holding his thighs. Because Aziraphale wasn't pulling away, just shifting his hold to something else. One hand curled around the back of his neck, the other around his waist and suddenly, he was on his back, with the angel hovering over him. Pink-cheeked and soft and ravenous.
"This okay?"
And, oh, the thrill of having reduced Aziraphale to simple sentences might have been an even better feeling than having the angel on top of him. No, that was a lie. There was nothing better than feeling Aziraphale pressing him down, his scent and his body and his warmth swallowing him whole. Still, an amazing feeling, that.
The angel was still hovering above him, though, holding himself up on his arms and while it felt delicious to have him so close... Crowley wanted it all. He really was greedy, when it came to his angel.
He patted the other man's chest, delighted at the softness of it. Tried to be strong and not get distracted by the give of flesh.
"Relax a bit, angel. Feels like you are getting ready to do a runner."
Aziraphale flushed an even deeper colour as he gasped out, appalled, "I will squish you."
And Crowley had truly never heard a more beautiful promise. He tried not to show his delight, cautious that it might scare the other man off giving in to what was shaping up to be such a delicious temptation. He couldn't quite stop his legs from falling open though, getting ready to accommodate his angel, once he decided to bless him with his proximity.
"Please, sweetheart," he whined, tried to wiggle even closer. His hands were running over soft shoulders, down a strong back. This was everything he had wanted for so long and he was weak.
He could see the resolve slip off gentle features, shuddered as blue skies darkened with desire. And then Aziraphale nodded, a resolute little thing that had no right to be this adorable. Especially not when Crowley could feel hunger claw at his insides.
Yet, there Aziraphale was, adorable and soft and his. Crowley needed him so much he felt he might burst with it. Loved him even more.
Aziraphale leant down to kiss him. Let himself sink into Crowley's waiting embrace.
Much later, Crowley once again found himself on top of his angel, sated and warm and so very happy. His stomach growled, having not seen anything but a variety of alcohol for more than 12 hours. He resolutely ignored it and, instead, wiggled closer.
Aziraphale tried to wiggle free. Not something that was allowed. Crowley wiggled closer again.
"We do need to have breakfast, my love," the bastard man chided him softly as he made another attempt at freedom. That, too, wasn't allowed.
"You're all I need, angel," Crowley mumbled, taking his coveted place on top of Aziraphale's chest again. It only made Aziraphale laugh, which... Rude.
"While that is extremely sweet, you do need actual sustenance."
The next attempt was slightly more successful, despite the fact Crowley very much did not let go of the angel's body, even as the other man lifted himself into a sitting position. Instead, he clung onto him and let himself be dragged up too.
It felt almost silly, now, that he had worried about being too clingy with Aziraphale. Especially when the other man pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, rubbed at any part of his body he could reach. Aziraphale didn't mind him being clingy. In fact, he was starting to suspect. He kind of liked it.
"I think I should make us a fry-up," Aziraphale noted, in that wistful voice of his he reserved for food.
"Just coffee for me," Crowley mumbled from the crook of Aziraphale's neck, resigning himself to the fact that his angel getting up was inevitable. Then he shifted, so he was sitting in Aziraphale's lap. Wrapped his arms around the angel's neck too, for good measure. Let's see how Aziraphale was going to free himself now.
"I have some bacon. Oh, you'll like it, I make amazing bacon," Aziraphale, the bastard, pretended not to have heard him.
"Coffee, please." Crowley figured as long as they were negotiating breakfast, kissing was still very much on the table. He pressed a kiss behind the other man's ear, chased the goosebumps all the way down to his collarbone.
"I have some eggs, too. Would you like them runny or hard-boiled, my love?" It was extremely endearing, the fact that Aziraphale's voice was not betraying even an ounce of the desire Crowley could see thundering in his eyes, in the way the hand around his hip had tightened its hold. Endearing, and also extremely hot.
"Just the coffee, sweetheart. Or you can stay in bed. Let me enjoy you a little while longer." His finger ran down bare chest, burrowed into blond curls. How was he supposed to think about food when he had this feast in front of him?
Immediately, his fingers were stopped in their exploration, wrapped instead in a strong hold. Crowley at least had the presence of mind not to whine this time.
"You can sit here, my lovely. I will make us breakfast." Crowley opened his mouth. Received a kiss for his troubles. "And coffee."
He gasped, part faux surprise, part desperate need to have Aziraphale's tongue back in his mouth. "How did you know?"
Aziraphale's eyes crinkled with his smile. "Must be an angel thing." Another kiss, this one more a promise to hurry up than anything that could quench Crowley's thirst for the other man and then Aziraphale was bending over the side of the bed to retrieve his pyjama top.
Crowley snatched it out of his hands.
"No clothes," he hissed. Threw the offending item of clothing as far away as possible. "This is a no clothes household now."
Aziraphale blinked at him, before looking down at Crowley's, very bare, chest. His eyes lingered before a flush was climbing up his throat, over full cheeks. Still, he nodded, kissed him again. This time, the hunger was sharp and biting.
Crowley did whine when he was moved off Aziraphale's lap, but otherwise bore the loss of warmth heroically. He truly was strong.
It helped that he didn't stay in bed long, instead opting to go and bother Aziraphale only after a few moments of peaceful, opressing silence. There was something to be said about a half-naked angel, making him delicious-looking breakfast. It might have been the reason why, when Crowley took a sip of the coffee Aziraphale pressed into his hands the moment he saw him, he couldn't remember ever tasting anything better.
Well, maybe except for the kiss that was pressed to his lips right after.
Aziraphale was anxious.
Aziraphale was usually anxious, mostly about silly, inconsequential things. This was not one of them.
He looked at the gorgeous creature on his sofa, dressed in yet another one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers, long legs stretched in front of him, long hair pulled into a messy bun. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his whole life.
Oh, he would hate to scare him away.
But Thursday was drawing to an end and they had spent the whole day together, wrapped around each other, laughing and talking and kissing and touching. And Aziraphale couldn't imagine not having this every day, couldn't imagine going to work tomorrow and leaving this behind. This little pocket dimension turning into nothing but a pleasant memory to keep him warm.
No, that wouldn't do.
"Crowley, I think perhaps we should talk," he said, softly, cautiously. At the use of his proper name, the other man's attention immediately snapped to him and his phone was quickly discarded to the side.
"Yeah?" There wasn't worry on his face, not yet, but Aziraphale could see these beautiful golden eyes widen, could feel them grow cold and he needed to hurry. He couldn't be the cause of this, this apprehension marring gorgeous features.
Crowley sat up, long legs drawing into him enough for Aziraphale to perch on the other side of the sofa. If he wanted to. Instead, he chose the middle cushion, as close to the other man as he could possibly be, without sitting in his lap. That would come too, soon, he hoped, if this all went well.
"My dearest, I- Forgive me if I'm being too forward but I didn't want you to think- I couldn't imagine you leaving without knowing-" He took a breath, steeled himself. He could do this. This was only the most perfect man he had ever met. What did he even have to worry about? "I would like you to know that I love you. Ardently. With all my heart, I love you. You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, the kindest and loveliest man I have ever met and I just- I wanted you to know that- I have been yours for so very long. And it would be my honour to call you mine."
Crowley blinked at him and Aziraphale would have worried if there wasn't also a smile pulling at soft lips.
"Angel," Crowley sighed, in that terrible voice of his that he used when he found him so disgustingly endearing. And now Aziraphale could see his eyes, too, the way they softened, the way they shined brightly. "I spent the whole day with you. I introduced you to my friends-"
Aziraphale opened his mouth. Crowley shushed him with a wave of his hand.
"-We had sex. Multiple times."
Aziraphale flushed at that. He had been rather silly, hadn't he? Letting his anxieties get to him.
"You must know by now, sweetheart, that I'm yours? That I love you, just as much?" Crowley asked and Aziraphale could do nothing but nod. Because he did know. Had known for so very long it seemed.
He leant forward, pressed the other man into the sofa, delighted in the groan that elicited. The kiss was sweet and gentle and slow, as much a declaration of love as the words had been. But before Aziraphale could deepen it, could sneak his hands beneath the shirt to seek out curves he dreamt of being as familiar with as his own. Before any of that could happen, Crowley was slipping out of his grasp and standing up.
Aziraphale twisted his head to look up at him. There was something so terribly alluring in the way Crowley towered over him, dressed in Aziraphale's clothes, hair messed up by Aziraphale's fingers. His. Just as much as he was Crowley's.
"I think I know a better way to celebrate," the other man said, a twinkle in his eyes that Aziraphale didn't trust one bit. And then he lowered himself, let his limbs pool at the foot of the sofa.
And that was that.
Crowley needed to go home.
He had offered a few times to let Aziraphale enjoy his day off in peace, undoubtedly out of some misguided attempt at politeness. But each time he had brought it up, Aziraphale had distracted him with his words, and if that hadn't worked, with his touch.
But it was Friday morning and they both had work in a few hours and Crowley needed to go back home so he could use his own shampoo and finally wear his own underwear. Things that Aziraphale didn't really see the importance of, but he tried not to argue.
He also tried desperately to stop himself from offering to accompany Crowley back to his.
He was being clingy. It was awfully unattractive. He was going to see the other man in a few hours. He could make it.
Crowley was putting on his clothes from the other night, something that involved a lot more hopping around than Aziraphale would have thought. Also, something that had no right to be this adorable.
"Do you want to come with?" the other man asked, just as he was buttoning up his trousers and Aziraphale's mouth forgot how to form words at the sight of long fingers curling around metal. He tried to nod, only to realise he couldn't remember how to move his head, either.
Fortunately for him, Crowley seemed to understand.
Unfortunately for him, Crowley seemed to understand.
20 minutes later, a too short amount of time for him to have dressed up and for them to have made their way to Crowley's flat, he tumbled out of that demon's car.
He turned wild eyes towards the smug, grinning creature.
"You hit someone," he said, one shaking finger pointed at Crowley.
Crowley had the nerve to laugh at him.
"I didn't, she jumped out of the way." And then, and then he shrugged. The bastard. "Besides, if anything she would have been the one to hit me."
"I am never getting into your car, ever again," Aziraphale hissed, trying to keep very still and hoping it would help with the nausea.
Crowley made a face. It looked unfairly attractive, especially considering it was made by Aziraphale's attempted murderer.
"Are you going to walk home then, angel?" Crowley teased. But he did also wrap him in his arms, pressing gentle kisses to his cheek. Aziraphale allowed it, only because they were helping with the whole feeling sick situation. No other reason at all.
"You'll be more careful next time," Aziraphale said. It wasn't a question. Crowley nodded. "And you will actually look at the road and not at me."
"But, angel, you look so tempting."
"What, cowering at the edge of my seat, holding on for dear life?" Aziraphale asked, incredulous, even as he turned his head to offer his other cheek to Crowley's mouth. He couldn't help it, the kisses were soothing some of his anger.
Crowley sighed, before repeating like a diligent student, "I will actually look at the road."
"And you won't hit anyone with your car."
"Angel, you are killing me here!"
"No, you demon. Avoiding the death of someone is the whole point of this exercise."
They had reached Crowley's door and the other man finally uncurled from around him. Still failed to promise that last vital thing, something that Aziraphale was going to make sure he did before they got back into that death trap of a car.
He had no idea what he had expected from Crowley's flat but. Well, it hadn't been that. He lingered at the door, taking it all in. The flat opened into the living room, bare, oppressively bare, save for the few uncomfortable looking pieces of furniture.
'Not many things to pack, was he to move,' his mind flashed quickly, dangerously, and Aziraphale hurried to dismiss the thought. A lovely idea, no doubt, sharing the same space as Crowley. But perhaps one he ought to save for further down their relationship.
"Make yourself at home. Kitchen is that way, bathroom down the hall." Crowley waved his hand in some unknown direction, but he was already tugging off his blouse and Aziraphale was far more interested in the soft expanse of skin revealed before him than where the kitchen was.
The other man met his gaze and grinned. Then, if that wasn't already a dangerously alluring look on him, he also stretched his neck, showing off the flowers on his skin in all their beautiful glory.
"Wanna kiss them goodbye before they have to go back behind the turtleneck?"
Of course, Crowley was teasing. He was poking fun at Aziraphale and the hungry way he was looking at the tender spots of his neck. Aziraphale didn't even mind, too used to the biting way, his friend, his more-than-friend, taunted him.
And he certainly didn't mind it when golden eyes widened, flashed with curiosity and hunger as Aziraphale nodded. Stepped forward and crowded Crowley against the wall. Kissed every inch of him goodbye.
They were late for their shifts.
Bee smiled at them knowingly when they tumbled into the cafe, an hour into their shifts, limbs still tangled and smiles still shining on their lips.
Crowley let him make the coffee. To put it mildly. In truth, he encouraged him and assured him he had improved tremendously. And didn't even wince when he took a sip of one of the cups he stole from a customer's hands. For quality assurance purposes, he assured them both, but Aziraphale didn't fail to notice he had somehow chosen to steal the same drink he would make for himself at the beginning of each of their shifts.
Which, unfortunately, meant that Crowley was the one interacting with their customers. Strangely enough, and Aziraphale was happy to take credit where credit was due, it was going... It was going well. Oh, for sure, Crowley still growled and hissed and he also maybe, possibly but also definitely reduced one customer to tears when she dared to order a decaf hot chocolate. But he did also use words such as 'please' and 'thank you'. Yes, even during that aforementioned reduction to tears, although that had been more of a 'please don't reproduce' and 'thank you for leaving'.
Aziraphale had even seen him smile. A proper one, with the right amount of teeth and the non-hostile lip placement. He felt so giddy with adoration he felt he might just gather the other man in his arms and kiss him right there, against the counter.
But there would be time for that, he reasoned with himself. Their shift was ending soon, Muriel had already come to relieve them and they were talking about their date with the new barista, Eric, and how nice he was, did they know he was nice? And he knew so many things, he was so smart. Aziraphale and Crowley shared a look and a smile and let them babble on.
Just a few more minutes and Aziraphale could drag him home. Or have Crowley drag him to his home. He had promised not to hit anyone, after some coaxing and light bribery. Aziraphale was as confident as he would ever be that he would keep his alive status even if he got into that demon's car.
And then the unthinkable happened. Truly, the worst thing that could have happened. The way Crowley stiffened beside him, just as Aziraphale was running his hand down his back, should have been his first clue.
His second clue, and the one heralding the end, was the bell above the door ringing.
Mr. Brown made his way to the till, oblivious to the look of horror on Aziraphale's face and Crowley's hands, balled into fists underneath the counter.
"Can I get a large latte please," the man said and Aziraphale let himself relax slightly. Perhaps they would be lucky. Perhaps that was it. Perhaps the man was turning a new leaf. "With all of your syrups."
Crowley was silent for a beat, waiting for the punchline of something that wasn't a joke. Then he asked, "All of them?"
Mr. Brown nodded with a smile, as if so proud of the invention of something that would probably send him to the hospital.
Aziraphale had an inkling as to what was going to happen. He inched to the left, deftly placing himself between Crowley and the tea bags. And sure enough, the other man turned around, one hand already reaching for his weapon of choice. Only to bump into Aziraphale's stomach instead.
Crowley lifted his head from where the tea bags should have been, instead looking into the eyes of their guardian angel. And he was wearing those blasted shades again, but Aziraphale had already seen him without them. Had memorised every single expression that he could have, the way Crowley's eyes looked without anything to guard them.
He could clearly see it now, the way golden eyes widened, eyebrows lifting in surprised wonder before softening, before turning as gentle as that smile playing on his lips.
Crowley turned to Mr. Brown and dutifully tapped at the screen of the till.
"Want a drizzle of caramel on top?" he asked, absentmindedly, as he went through all the trouble of putting through 10 different syrups in one order.
"Yes, please," Mr. Brown croaked. He looked surprised that he was going to get his order exactly like he had wanted it. Surprised and delighted. His hands shook as he reached into his wallet.
Aziraphale couldn't take it anymore. He waited until Crowley was done with the order, those syrups really were a pain to input and he couldn't risk the other man having to do it all over again. And then, right as Crowley lifted his head to give Mr. Brown his total, a truly absurd amount, he fisted both hands into the front of a black turtleneck and kissed Crowley. Right there, against the till, with Muriel watching them and barely holding in a giggle and Mr. Brown trying desperately to look at anything else but them.
"A better option than shooting you in the head, don't you think, my love?" Aziraphale asked when they finally broke apart, if only out of the pesky need to breathe.
Crowley nodded, mouth slightly open, chest heaving beneath the other man's hands. He would look dazed, Aziraphale knew, underneath the glasses, his eyes wide and glassy and hungry and he needed to see them. Needed to marvel at the way they shined as if containing galaxies.
He turned to Muriel, who was already nodding.
"On it, Mr. Fell," they said, dutifully reaching for a cup.
Aziraphale hadn't relinquished his hold on Crowley's turtleneck. Wasn't planning on doing it anytime soon. Instead, he kissed him again, a quick slide of lips, enough to stave off the hunger in them both. At least until they made it to the staff room.
And then a few more, when Crowley pressed him to his locker, with both his body and his lips. They needed to leave. They needed desperately to leave because Aziraphale was not going to get caught with his pants down at work. Another kiss, that quickly turned into three more and Crowley was letting him go, his grin as sharp as it was beautiful.
Maybe Aziraphale could ask him to move in with him? If he could gather up the courage.
And with Crowley looking at him like that, clever fingers playing with the hem of his shirt...
"So you can change more quickly," the demon of a man explained while very much not helping with that at all.
Well, he was feeling braver by the second.