Chapter Text
Chapter One: A Long, Overdue Kiss
THE SOUTH DOWNS
There is a long, overdue, admittedly awkward kiss, with two ethereal beings who haven’t really had much practice at it, but spent 6,000 years thinking about it.
When they finally break away, Aziraphale takes the demon’s hand, and guides him toward the bed in the cottage. With a wave of his hand the bed now has a brown tartan cover.
With a snap of the demon's fingers, there are now black silk sheets underneath.
“We… can redecorate later,” Aziraphale says, a bit breathless.
“Agreed,” Crowley says, and leans forward to kiss him again.
With lips still connected, arms tightly wound around each other, they sit at the edge of the bed.
After a few moments, they pull away and look at each other.
“Well,” Aziraphale says, bursting. “I’m ready.”
Crowley removes his sunglasses and puts them on the side table. “Same, Angel.”
They continue to stare at each other, both expectant.
“Well,” Aziraphale says after some length. “How would you like to start?”
Crowley’s eyes dart around the room. He hesitates.
Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrow slightly. “I assumed, you know, that as a demon, that you would, well, be familiar with the desires of the flesh.”
Crowley’s lips purse together.
He mutters a small, “...not as such.”
Aziraphale’s eyes widen. “Oh I see. Again, apologies, dear one, for my assumption. And I fear I’ve done that to you entirely too often over the years.”
Crowley smirks. “You already did the dance. And I did mine. No need to go through that again.”
“So, you’ve never…” Aziraphale starts to ask.
“I’ve never wanted to with anyone else, Angel.”
Aziraphale’s eyes light up. “Absolutely the same, my dear.”
They kiss again, long and slow. And pull away again. Still unsure on the next step.
“We are in no rush,” Crowley says. “We can go slow.”
“Right.” Aziraphale grins. “Well, it’s hard to go slower than us. It’s only been 6,000 years.”
“And even that is too short a time spent with you, Angel. I would stop time all over again, just for another kiss,” he says, gently rubbing the angel’s back.
Aziraphale can’t help a squeak. “When did you get so poetic?” and leans in to kiss the demon.
When etheral beings don’t have human needs specifically to bother them, like the need to breathe, or eat, or run to the loo, the kisses can be quite long indeed. But eventually, they do come up for air.
“Well, Crowley,” Aziraphale finally admits. “I have, it seems, put quite a LOT of thought into exactly how I want this to go. And I’ll ask you at every step, if you can trust me to lead?”
“Ngk,” Crowley says, with an audible gulp. “Um, yeah. Sure.”
“Do you remember the movie Inception?” Aziraphale asks.
Crowley squints, trying to make any possible connection. “I think I do. Why, exactly?”
“Well, I read the book. And it gave me some ideas. I think what I’d like to try with you, we can do here, and on the next plane. It’s almost unheard of for angels or demons to connect like this. And this has been a few millennia in the making. We can invent new ways to experience intimacy together, in ways that are meaningful to us. It doesn’t have to be what everyone else does.”
Crowley nods, still not entirely sure what he’s agreeing to do. “I trust you.”
“Good,” Aziraphale says. “Come here, you,” Aziraphale says, guiding Crowley to lay down on the bed as he sits next to him on the other side. He fusses a bit with the blankets, trying to get everything just so and make sure Crowley is comfortable. Aziraphale then guides Crowley’s head up and puts a pillow beneath it.
Crowley lays below him, feeling more prone and vulnerable than he can ever recall feeling, trying to quell a rising level of terror inside and wondering exactly what it is that his Angel has planned.
After a moment, Aziraphale says, “There’s still so much I want to tell you, my dear, and unfortunately, human words often fail me. But I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how I can best show you what I need to show you, here and in the beyond. May I?” the angel says, pulling gently at his neck scarf.
Crowley nods.
Aziraphale gently undoes his grey neck scarf, and then moves to undo the buttons of his shirt and leather vest, quietly exposing his chest, while Crowley watches, yellow eyes shining wide. “And please know that this wouldn’t be possible without our long connection, and fully knowing you, my dearest friend.”
Crowley’s breath catches. He’s still not used to being called a friend, and it’s a sound he loves. Even more than a Queen song in his Bentley.
Aziraphale lays the palm of his hand on the demon’s bare chest. “May I escort us to the next plane?”
Crowley nods, and Aziraphale pushes into him, his physical palm still in the exact same spot on his chest, but his metaphysical hand is a few inches inside of him. Crowley sucks in a quick breath…