Chapter Text
“Oh, dear. . .”
Crowley could hear Aziraphale sighing to himself through the bathroom door. “What’s the matter, angel?” he called. His lips twisted into a wicked grin. “Need some help?”
“Anthony J. Crowley, you will stay right where you are,” came the stern reply. “I won’t have you gawking at me in this state of indecency.”
Crowley snorted. Even though they had been living together for months, Aziraphale still made him turn around if he so much as loosened his bowtie. By the next decade, perhaps Crowley would be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of Aziraphale’s forearms, or maybe even a bit of ankle.
There was another soft cry of distress from the bathroom, and Crowley sat up straighter on the edge of the bed, his fingers digging into the mattress. “Aziraphale—”
“Oh, I’m fine, darling. Don’t worry.” Aziraphale’s voice instantly put Crowley at ease. “It’s only—” Aziraphale paused for a moment. “Well, perhaps it would be better show you, but— but do promise you won’t tease,” he added imploringly.
“No teasing.”
The door opened partially, and Aziraphale’s head peeked out. His flushed cheeks and slightly tousled hair made him look adorably flustered. “And you’re quite sure you won’t poke fun?”
Crowley, recognizing the note of genuine nervousness in Aziraphale’s voice, nodded. “Swear on my life, angel. Promise.”
Aziraphale’s cheeks burned brighter. “Oh. . . very well, then,” he said, sidling out of the bathroom. “I—I’m afraid it doesn’t fit quite right. . .”
Aziraphale was wearing the new sweater Crowley had just bought for him— a thick, soft woolen thing in a lovely sky blue that matched his eyes— and, as the angel had said, it didn’t fit. It clung to him like sausage casing, emphasizing the rounded curve of his stomach and the slight bulge of love handles around his hips. Despite Aziraphale’s best efforts, it kept riding up and exposing a pale strip of skin around his lower belly.
Aziraphale had always been plump, but he had gotten even chubbier after living with Crowley for the past few months. Crowley adored his soft, pampered angel and loved to indulge him in every way possible, taking him out for extravagant meals, buying him decadent desserts anytime they walked past a bakery, and always making sure there were all kinds of tempting treats around for Aziraphale to snack on whenever he got peckish. Aziraphale, for his part, plainly loved being doted on, and made no effort to keep Crowley from spoiling him.
Aziraphale hadn’t even seemed to have noticed his weight gain, but he definitely noticed the way the sweater strained over his stomach. “And I was so looking forward to wearing this today,” Aziraphale sighed, crestfallen. He gave the sweater another futile tug, then put a hand on his belly.“Perhaps if I didn’t eat so much. . .”
Crowley’s mouth had practically started to water, but he forced himself to ignore the heady wave of lust for Aziraphale’s sake. His poor angel clearly needed some comforting. He pushed himself off the bed and began to circle Aziraphale slowly, his hungry eyes taking in every detail.
In spite of his embarrassment, Aziraphale managed a small, bashful smile. He always loved it when Crowley circled around him. “What do you think, dear?”
“It’sssss tight,” Crowley admitted, unable to restrain a small hiss as he ran his hands down Aziraphale’s sides to smooth out the sweater. “But that’s nothing to get your wings in a twist over.” He kneeled down so the hem of the sweater was level with his eyes— and so was Aziraphale’s belly. It was all he could do to keep his tongue from flicking out to lick his lips. “A little miracle could fix it right up for you.”
Aziraphale’s eyes sparkled the way they always did when he knew Crowley was about to give him exactly what he wanted. “Oh, would you?”
Crowley leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss onto Aziraphale’s stomach before miracling the sweater larger. “There,” he said, rising to his full height. “How’s that, angel?”
“It’s perfect!” Aziraphale beamed and wrapped his arms around Crowley, nuzzling his face between the demon’s neck and shoulder. “Thank you ever so much, darling.”
There were a million things Crowley loved about being hugged by Aziraphale. The angel’s downy curls tickled his neck, his breath was warm against Crowley’s skin, and he smelled faintly of old books and freshly-baked pastries. Crowley loved the feeling of being held and cherished, though he would sooner rip his own tongue out than admit it out loud, and he loved knowing that he made Aziraphale happy.
Crowley pulled the angel closer, almost whimpering when Aziraphale’s pudgy belly pressed against his lean torso. His eyes went greedily to the angel’s stomach, his fingers itching to pinch and squeeze. There might have also been some less-than-wholesome things he liked about being hugged.
Aziraphale gave a sigh of contentment and allowed Crowley to hold him for another moment before moving away. He smiled, but something in his expression seemed unsure. “Would you like to give me a kiss, dear?”
“What I wouldn’t like to do to you,” Crowley thought.
Aziraphale began fiddling with his pinkie ring, a nervous habit. “Just to be sure. . .”
Crowley leaned forward, lifting his hands to cradle Aziraphale’s face as their lips met. “Sure of what, angel?” he said when they broke away.
“Oh, well. . .” Aziraphale ran a hand through his hair. “I know you’ll think I’m being silly, but I was worried about how unattractive I must have looked before you fixed the sweater.” He half-laughed, embarrassed. “Of course, you had been so lovely and reassuring to me already—”
“Lovely?!” Crowley interjected, outraged. He wanted to comfort Aziraphale, of course, but he had his pride. “I have limits, you know.” Aziraphale just frowned at Crowley in silence until he gave in with a groan. “Go on.”
Aziraphale straightened his bowtie. “Well, if you’ll deign to listen to me,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I was going to say that I. . .” He paused for a moment, avoiding Crowley’s eyes. “I suppose I wanted to be kissed as a reminder that you love me regardless of how I look.”
“What are you on about?” The suggestion that he didn’t find Aziraphale attractive was so absurd that the words came out sounding sharper than Crowley had intended. He caressed Aziraphale’s cheek and added in a softer tone: “You know I like your corporation. What makes you think I don’t?”
“It’s not your fault, darling,” said Aziraphale, placing his hand over Crowley’s. “I know that you like it. I do, too, most of the time.” Aziraphale smiled, and Crowley knew it was genuine, but hearing him say ‘most of the time’ still broke his heart. “But I’m sure even you can admit that the sweater wasn’t exactly flattering when I first tried it on.”
“Why not?” There was a combative edge to Crowley’s voice.
Aziraphale started tugging on the edge of the sweater, even though it fit perfectly after Crowley’s miracle. “You know why.” He sucked in his stomach for a moment before releasing it with a sigh. “I— I’m soft.”
Crowley kissed Aziraphale on both cheeks, making the angel smile in spite of himself. “Yes, you are.” He put his hands on Aziraphale’s belly, giving it a slight squeeze. “And I love it.”
Aziraphale blushed. “Oh! Well. . .” He smiled shyly and ducked his head, emphasizing his adorable double chin. “Thank you. I feel much better now.”
“You shouldn’t ever be upset about it,” said Crowley fiercely, his hands digging into Aziraphale’s pudge. The angel gave a little gasp, so Crowley loosened his grip, stepping back. “Anyone who doesn’t like it is out of their minds,” he said, scowling at the ground. “Wanting everyone to be all. . . skin and bones.”
Aziraphale laughed, reaching out to caress Crowley’s cheek. “You’re all skin and bones, and I quite like you.”
Crowley frowned, thinking. His naturally slim, serpentine figure was certainly quite attractive, but. . . he thought of how erotic it was, seeing Aziraphale all but bursting out of that sweater, and imagined himself spilling out of his fashionably tight clothes.
“But you don’t like me because I’m skin and bones,” he said to Aziraphale. Although Crowley’s voice was steady and confident— he was almost completely certain that Aziraphale would agree— he still couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous. For a creature as vain as Crowley, not being found attractive was a frightening prospect. “You’d like me even I looked. . . different than I do now.”
“Well, of course!” Aziraphale sounded surprised. “It feels like every time I’ve seen you, you’ve done something new to your hair. And, of course, you do look rather different as a snake. . .”
Crowley couldn’t help but smile. “I always knew you were only in it for my scales.”
Aziraphale laughed, and all Crowley’s doubts were put at ease. He decided that he would get softer, just to see if he liked it or not. There was no harm in trying it out for a little bit— if it turned out that he didn’t like it, he could simply shape-shift back to his starting size.
It occurred to Crowley that he could shape-shift himself larger, too, but where was the fun in that?