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Crowley closed the cottage door behind him and finally shut out the wind and darkness of a late December night. He’d brought his last bag in from the Bentley, and while a lack of wind made the inside of this place better than anywhere outside of it, he could tell the heat hadn’t been on in what felt like days.
A huff made his breath apparent, and he didn’t even try to mess with Anathema’s heater before calling her mobile. She had supposedly left it on when they left that morning so he could have a nice cozy start to his Christmas vacation alone.
“I take it you made it to my house alive?” She said the moment the dial tone dissolved. Not even a how-you-do.
“And by the sounds of your breathing, I take it you’ve already fucked in my bed?”
Anathema snorted.
“We changed the sheets.”
Crowley huffed, another vision of his breath, and he was reminded of why he called in the first place.
“Ana, it’s freezing here. I thought you left the heat on for me?”
“Shit,” he heard first, then in her charming American accent that she turned to harder levels whenever she was defending herself, she added, “Stupid thing. I’ve been trying to get it replaced for weeks now, but no one will book anytime near Christmas, and every time they hear my voice they’re especially rude. I’d have Newt call, but you know him.”
Crowley was positive he heard a slight ‘sorry dear’ from the man himself, but he didn’t want to even think about them being in the vicinity of one-another naked.
“Right. Well, want me to call? Can pretend it’s mine.”
“Still all booked for now, but if you wanna set something up for January that’d be fantastic.”
Crowley chuckled. He knew this little exchange would be a better deal for her somehow.
“And in the meantime? Surely you haven’t been freezing Newt’s bollocks off, don’t you need those?”
Anathema sighed at him, then threatened to hang up, all while Crowley half-heartedly apologized, begging for help.
“Aziraphale knows how to temporarily fix it. He’s like, a few feet-” Newt chimed in with meters while his wife hushed him- “down the street.”
“A neighbor, then?”
“Mhm-hm,” Anathema hummed.
Crowley waited for anymore explanation. A phone number, something that could help him get in contact with the man, but she seemed unwilling to give anything else. That, or she’d muted herself and was having some needless sexual discussion with Newt.
“Anathema?”
“Sorry,” she chimed immediately, taking a deep breath and then more jumbled phone sounds before- “He doesn’t have a phone, so you’ll kind of have to go down the road and knock on his door.”
“Two days before Christmas?” Crowley growled. “In the dark? And this won’t scare the bloody shite out of him?”
“No. I told him when I had him over for hot chocolate on Wednesday you might need his help. He’s alone too, this time of year, so I wouldn’t worry too much about bothering him.”
Crowley felt a bit itchy under his collar at having to annoy some random stranger right before the hols just so he could be warm, but sadly he didn’t think any amount of blankets and tea would stave off the freezing weather.
“Fuck, but that’s inconvenient.”
“Sorry, A.J. I promise it won’t be so bad. Oh, and does that restaurant we went to for dinner today do take-out? Newt’s mother isn’t big on travel these days, and I thought it would be nice to bring her some lunch tomorrow instead of dragging her out.”
Crowley had to tell her that Raymond’s unfortunately did not do take-away, but that a few other places he frequented did, all while grabbing a few extra layers to stack himself with so he could go to her bloody neighbor’s house just to have heat.
“Which way do I go?” He asked before she hung up without anymore details. It wasn’t like he knew his way around Tadfield.
“Oh, right. Walk outside, follow the road on the left of the house. You’ll see his place in no time, it’s the first house you’ll come across.”
Crowley thanked her as much as he felt she was owed for freezing him out upon his arrival, then hung up the phone. He didn’t want to go back out in the wind, but the idea of becoming a human popsicle didn’t sit well with him either. Not to mention bothering poor… fuck, he forgot the man’s name, but he remembered that it sounded like a mouthful.
So he packed himself back into his Bentley and swung down the road to the left, understanding only a minute later what Anathema had meant when she said he would see the bloody place. There were more lights on the facade than a Christmas tree, and while Crowley wasn’t exactly a scrooge, he certainly didn’t have this much cheer. The lights were so bright, in fact, he slipped his sunglasses on before he got out of the car.
But he really did want some heat.
Crowley jogged up to the front door and rang the doorbell, listening out for the sound of it inside. A deep chime rang out once, then twice, and before an inevitable third came, the door opened.
Just as Crowley locked eyes with the veritable angel who answered the door, the bell rang it’s last, and he felt like the world shifted. Never one for dramatics, he tried to shake the feeling, to do something or indicate why he could possibly be on this man’s doorstep two days before Christmas wearing all black and driving a ridiculously old Bentley. Alas, his mouth was dry, his eyes were locked, and there was an ill-timed warmth blooming in his groin.
“Hello! I assume you are dear Anathema’s cousin?”
Crowley even adored the sickly-sweet voice the man had. He was all round edges and blonde hair, not to mention the most handsome face he’d come across in ages.
Then, he remembered the man had asked him a question, and he nodded. It was a jerky, stunted thing, but it didn’t seem to sway his savior’s smile at all.
“Oh, it’s just lovely what you did for them! Giving up your flat in London so Newton could be close to his mother this time of year. You really made his holiday, I can assure you. Now, you must be here because of Anathema’s poorly heating.”
Crowley swallowed. It wouldn’t do to say nothing to him, his hands shoved in his pockets and probably giving off an attitude that was absolutely miserable by all accounts. He wanted to make a good impression for once.
“Er, yep. Right.”
Eloquent, as usual.
“I’ll grab my coat, then I’ll just pop by to hit it in the right place.”
With a wink, he disappeared, and Crowley had his phone out so fast that he was sure he’d just unlocked a superpower he didn’t know he had.
Pls pls pls pls tell me your hot neighbor is single
Find out for yourself x came an immediate reply.
Crowley wanted to scream, really, but then another text came through, and he saw it was from Newt instead.
He’s single!!!!!! (and Anathema is cruel)
Oh, his smile was all but psychotic. If Crowley played his cards right, this could be a very special holiday indeed. All he needed to do now was play it cool. He could do cool.
The man- whose name Crowley suddenly remembered he didn’t know- came back with a lovely vintage coat on. Now that he was capable of looking past his face, Crowley saw the rest of him was just as antiquated in terms of style, what with his adorable waistcoat adorned with a gold pocketwatch chain and tartan bowtie to top it all off.
“Let me just lock the door, and we can be on our way. Did you walk or drive?”
Crowley laughed a little, wondering how the man hadn’t seen a vintage Bentley out front, then was a bit more charitable to him in his mind. Not everyone cared about cars the way he did.
“That’s my car,” he said when he turned back towards him, gesturing to his girl with a prideful smile.
The man turned and gasped. So maybe he could appreciate it, he just hadn’t been focused on anything other than the black-spot that had darkened his door just a minute ago. Perfectly understandable, Crowley thought. He’d be wary, too, even if he vaguely anticipated the interruption. The way Anathema talked, no one could ever get a good pin on him.
She wasn’t uncharitable, in fact, she often depicted him too kindly, even though they hadn’t ever been the closest of family until she moved to Tadfield and met Newt when visiting him in London. Apparently him introducing them made him the best cousin in the world now, but he tried not to flaunt it. Anathema was in the running for the same accolade if things went the way Crowley wanted.
“It’s a gorgeous automobile.”
He preened.
“Thanks. Got her as basically just a shell and pieced her the rest of the way together for a few years.”
“Funny, really, how one can know their way around a car, but not a heater.”
Crowley scoffed. So this man had a bit of a bastard streak to him, did he?
“At least you can’t see Anathema’s house from space.”
The man grinned, and they got in the car.
“Sorry,” he said as the Bentley roared to life. “You’re in my car and I’m taking you to my cousin’s house, and I honestly don’t know your name. Anathema said, but I’m about as retentive as a goldfish-”
“It’s alright, dear. I’m Aziraphale Fell, at your service. I’m going to take a guess and say you’re her and Newt’s match-maker, A.J.”
“I prefer Crowley, actually,” he said warily, glancing at the man as he reversed and headed back towards Anathema’s. “She just calls me A.J. because it bothers me.”
Aziraphale laughed, and really it was quite the infectious sound because Crowley felt the mirth seep into him as well.
“That does seem her way.”
They pulled back to Anathema’s cottage in just a handful of seconds, and Crowley made his first move, bolting from the driver’s seat and opening Aziraphale’s door for him.
He looked up in surprise, his hand extended out to obviously do the task himself. Then, there was that gorgeous smile Crowley could fall for before a rushed, “Thank you, my dear.”
Offering a hand to help him out seemed a bit excessive for the time being, so Crowley just closed the door gently behind him and then unlocked the cottage.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Anathema lock this place,” Aziraphale said.
“That wouldn’t fly in London. She better be locking my flat, I didn’t give her the keys so she could jingle them at Newt.”
Laughter like a bell, then Aziraphale shuddered as they went inside.
“It is unreasonably cold in here! My, it’s like she didn’t have the heat on at all.”
“That’s what I said!”
Aziraphale led him to where the ancient heater was and showed him exactly what to do if it went out again, but if Crowley’s next move didn’t go as planned, then he’d simply have to ‘forget’ how to do it and summon Aziraphale back again, maybe even let him guide his hands over Crowley’s own.
Once the heat was back on, Crowley pounced.
“Thank you, Aziraphale,” he started, knowing whatever he was doing with his body was awkward and fidgety. The man smiled, still, and it knocked whatever he was going to say sideways. “Ngk, I think it needs time to warm up in here, is there anywhere around that serves drinks? Or late night coffee?”
Aziraphale brushed his hands off and scrunched his nose.
“Apologies, but this is a small town, dear. You’d be lucky if the shopkeepers were open until supper time! However, I do know a place you could procure some warming whiskey or good wine if you wouldn’t mind company while you do it.”
Fuck. Crowley had forgotten to invite Aziraphale to these ridiculous plans. He could wait in the house for it to warm up, sure, but the whole point was to ask this angel out on a date. Of sorts. A thank-you drink, really.
“Sorry, I meant- well, I wanted to thank you. Drinks are on me wherever this place is.”
Aziraphale grinned.
“My home has the heat and the good wine I promised, is that alright?”
Oh. Oh, well now that was an offer he couldn’t refuse. As ridiculous as he felt, Crowley couldn’t let the invitation pass him by.
“That sounds wonderful.”
Aziraphale looked just about like he was going to clap, and then thought better of it. Crowley wanted to devour him.
There was no awkwardness as they walked and chatted all the way back to Aziraphale’s house in silence. They’d decided it was best this way if Crowley was going to be drinking, for even a short inebriated drive in his precious Bentley was not at all a good idea.
In no time they were inside the warmth where he finally had the chance to take off his coat and the other warming vestments that hid all of his best qualities. Sure, he was sinewy and sleek, but there were wiry muscles under the pale skin. Maybe Aziraphale liked that kind of thing. He hoped he did.
In fact, just as he was shrugging out of his coat, he felt warm hands at his shoulders, and Aziraphale’s voice in his ear.
“Let me take that for you.”
It was warm and gentle, a tone that had to be flirting if he knew anything at all. Crowley felt fingers purposefully graze his back, and he surmised that he did, in fact, know a little something.
Aziraphale led him into his kitchen, but Crowley was far too distracted by the sheer amount of books this house held to follow at his heel. He didn’t recognize a single title either, and worried just a bit that he was going to fail some unasked quiz from Aziraphale and get foisted out on his arse before anything could even start.
“Red or white? Or I did promise whiskey, if that’s your type of poison.”
He could answer that. Crowley settled himself onto a stool at the kitchen island and attempted to look alluring enough to avoid any book-talk, scared out of his bloody mind. Luckily, the man on the other side of the counter looked back at him with unfailing kindness in his captivating eyes.
Crowley choked a bit on the word, “Red.”
Aziraphale grinned, then from a hidden wine-rack pulled out a bottle he seemed very proud of. It was Louis Latour Château, but that was all Crowley caught before the blonde was uncorking it without a thought.
“That’s quite the bottle.”
“Well,” Aziraphale said, reaching into a cupboard and retrieving two glasses. Crowley saw the discreet twitch of muscles under all of his layers, the vest unable to hide how his biceps exceeded the stretch of fabric surrounding them. Fuck, but he’d do anything to have this man. Trying to keep it in his trousers, Crowley just licked his lips and hummed trying to show he was listening and definitely not distracted. “I was going to open it on Christmas as a treat to myself, but I would much rather share it. And now that it’s open, you can’t tell me no.”
Crowley huffed.
“Should let it breathe though, yeah?” He tried, not at all denying the glass pushed his way.
Aziraphale rolled up his sleeves a smidge before pouring healthy servings of the red.
“Got anything in mind to pass the time?”
Crowley could’ve fallen off the stool. Instead, he tried to play it cool and raised a brow.
“I’m a saint, can’t imagine a thing.”
Neither of them believed that for a second, in fact, Crowley stood up and took a quick sniff of the wine, while Aziraphale came around the island counter like a tiger hunting prey.
They stopped just a few inches short of touching. Aziraphale, finally, seemed a bit hesitant, which gave Crowley the courage to make another move.
“May I kiss you?”
Wide blue eyes looked at him with wonder and something that had to be relief in not being the one to make the first direct pass, and then coherent thought got a bit unreasonable. Aziraphale’s lips were warm, so bloody warm in fact that Crowley wondered if he’d been dreaming the entire winter season. His hair was soft, too, as Crowley grabbed the back of his head and reached out with his tongue. Then, he was entirely flush with warmth, as Aziraphale had pulled him close by the hips, hands skating desperately yet politely avoiding anything untoward. It was funny, really, how he could come on so strong and yet withhold himself from the temptation to touch a willing body. He could be the one who made the first move, Crowley wanted this man that badly.
So, he slid the hand not gripping soft, tufting curls and grabbed a handful of the best arse he’s probably ever put his hands on and ground their hips together. The friction was more than Crowley bargained for, however, when Aziraphale stopped kissing his lips and moved to his neck, all sensitive nerves and blood rushing exhilaration.
Like cold water on a fire, the doorbell rang. Twice. The third time.
They were frozen in place, Crowley with his hand still firmly on Aziraphale’s arse, and he with hitched breaths against Crowley’s neck.
“Expecting someone?”
“No,” Aziraphale said, the warmth from the word making Crowley shiver from the base of his skull to the bottom of his feet.
They disentangled, and with a few precarious adjustments, Aziraphale went to answer the door as it rang another three times. He had no idea what to do with himself, and so Crowley took a very large sip from the wine he’d been given only a few minutes earlier. People had bloody shite timing out here, didn’t they?
“Gabriel?” Aziraphale’s voice said.
Crowley immediately hated whoever this was, and not only for the merit of his flagging erection. It was the rush of the way Aziraphale said the man’s name, and then the absolutely smooth and suave tone of the responding voice.
“Aziraphale! Merry Christmas.”
An American? Not that he was judging, but-
“What are you doing here?”
“I was on my way back from a trip! Figured I’d stop in and stay, you always say I can! I could’ve done the rest of the drive, but didn’t want to pop in on Evelyn too late into the evening, and I know you’ve not got company this season.”
Evelyn? Crowley had no clue who either of these people were, but he desperately hoped that Gabriel had no sights on Aziraphale. An hour into knowing one-another felt a bit too early for jealousy, but what could he say? Crowley had always liked to go fast.
“Actually, Gabriel-”
“Can I come in? It’s freezing out here.”
Crowley heard the sigh from all the way in the kitchen, and just by the sound of Gabriel’s voice, he knew the man wouldn’t think anything of it.
“I do, you know?” Aziraphale added suddenly, “Have company.”
There was a distinct lack of sound now coming from the entrance of the house.
“I didn’t see a car.”
“We walked from the Pulsifer’s.”
“Oh, it’s just your neighbors then?”
Why they weren’t making any forward progress was beyond Crowley, but he’d sipped his way through his entire glass of wine with hardly a thought to the taste already.
“No, it’s Anathema’s cousin, Crowley. He’s borrowing the cottage for the hols, and has probably heard every word we’ve said.”
The statement shocked him into motion, actually, as his feet carried him forward almost against his own will. But Crowley wanted to see Gabriel, to size him up and see if he could get this absolute idiot to vacate so they could go back to what they were doing before the interruption. Was he a friend? An old lover? A current one? Who would know Aziraphale so intimately besides those options… or family. Though he was American, so that was telling.
But as Crowley rounded the corner, he found that Gabriel looked nothing like Aziraphale. No, he was tall and stock-handsome. Probably… definitely someone who broke hearts, but not at all Crowley’s type.
“You called?” He said with a grin.
Aziraphale looked at him with so many wonderful emotions, and a few others probably latent from the interruption, and reached out a hand towards the other man.
“Crowley, this is my brother, Gabriel.”
Well, Crowley had never claimed to be a detective. But who could have expected that ? They had different accents for Someone’s sake, and they looked nothing alike, not even… eyes or the turn of a nose. Adoption, maybe?
“Hello!” Gabriel boomed, reaching out and shaking Crowley’s hand with might. “I’m sure you’re confused, we don’t sound related, but our parents moved us to New York right when Aziraphale here went to Uni.”
Looking briefly at Aziraphale for confirmation, the man just looked helpless more than anything.
“What brought you back?” Crowley asked, even though he’d rather take a long drive off a short cliff.
“Well, I came to visit Aziraphale, of course! I mean, that’s why I came here a decade ago, after I was done with Harvard. We hadn’t seen much of one-another, then I met Evelyn.” Gabriel raised his hand to show off his wedding band like it was an olympic medal, and Crowley couldn’t find it in himself to hate this man.
Frustrated as all get-out with him, sure, but at least he seemed to care about his brother and his wife, unlike some men.
“How… quaint.”
As predicted Gabriel didn’t take this as an insult.
“Brother, dear, you’re more than welcome to stay, but I’m afraid Anathema’s is currently freezing to the bone because her heater was off before she switched abodes with Crowley. If you wanted us to be alone, I’d hate to disappoint you.”
Gabriel, who had been shedding layers, seemed unbothered by this revelation.
“No bother! The more, the merrier, eh?”
His joviality would make for a splendid fake St. Nick if he were a couple of decades older and many pounds heavier, but Crowley was as amused now as he was upset. If Gabriel were going to stay as persistent as he was, it was obvious Aziraphale needed a bit of rebuff, and he could do that for him. He liked this man, it was the least he could do.
They all settled in, and the wine had a few minutes longer to breathe now, with a third glass parsing out the serving. It was a delicious bottle, too, that Crowley felt a little bad they were taking it from Aziraphale.
Speaking of who, as much as he felt guilty, having Gabriel helped him learn so much about the angel of a man. Gabriel could talk, and once Aziraphale had seen that his brother’s presence hadn’t completely alienated Crowley, he calmed down and was able to banter with them.
Crowley, by no means, liked Gabriel. He found him pompous and overly relaxed about things that should greatly concern him, but the night, three days before Christmas, had not been completely ruined.
Aziraphale was unwrapped like a small parcel a crafty gifter didn’t want revealed too soon. All wonderful layers, each more intricate than the next, yet revealing something even more illustrious about the man than before until maybe, one day, Crowley would be able to reach his heart. He liked good food and wine. That one maybe could’ve been obvious by the bottle of wine they’d finished in just under an hour, but it went deeper than that.
Gabriel told him that he’d once found his brother in a sushi restaurant speaking a limited Japanese vocabulary to endear himself to the owners after searching for him for over an hour. Not to mention the only reason he had found Aziraphale that night was because he was out for his stag-do and the man had meant to be joining them.
The angel he was, didn’t care for parties. It made sense, seeming content to be alone on Christmas must have been indicative of introvertedness, but Aziraphale promised he wasn’t entirely a homebody, telling his own story of when Anathema had dragged him out for her “bachelorette party” as she insisted on calling it (Crowley didn’t remember Aziraphale at the wedding, but he was told one of their family members had died around that time, and so the funeral had come first). Apparently, he got ridiculously drunk and sang Karaoke with Anathema, convincing some bloke to walk up to him and ask him out after. Anathema had then declared his aura was all wrong, and despite not believing in her so-called witchiness, Aziraphale knew she was always dead-right about people’s intentions and had declined all the same.
The twist in Crowley’s chest at hearing someone had asked him out was, unfortunately, jealousy.
Aziraphale went to Cambridge, got a fancy degree in Literature, and much like his brother, took his inheritance and retired early just a few years ago. Gabriel was younger (he mentioned this several times) so it was different for him, but Aziraphale liked managing his own time and being able to come and go as he pleased, focusing on philanthropy and conservation.
Crowley felt much the same, conservation wise. He wished he could just up and retire, but the Bentley needed caring for, and he liked living luxuriously. He also liked buying expensive plants.
Aziaphale liked Shakespeare, taking long walks, detested nothing except rudeness, and from all the ridiculous stories Gabriel told, was apparently very kind. Soft and special in ways that made him hungry not just to sleep with him, but also to get to know him, to see if more could lurk on the horizon.
Then, Gabriel announced he’d like to go to bed, and hopefully Crowley’s temporary house was warm enough now.
Crowley would have been offended if he didn’t see the time. Nearly one in the morning, it seemed. Bloody late, not that it wasn’t a weekend, but all the same, he was tired from work and driving, and nearly sleeping with an angel who he was sure would have been even more exuberantly tiring. Probably not the best thought to have two feet away from said man’s brother.
“Oh, Crowley, just in case, I have an electrical blanket if you’d like to borrow it for the evening. To fend off the latent chill.”
“Thanks, Aziraphale, that would be great.”
He beamed, even at one in the morning, and promised to be back in two shakes. Whatever that meant.
Gabriel, however, dropped his smile as though his brother were a power source.
“You like him.”
Crowley blinked, caught off guard as his feet became a little unstable.
“What of it?”
“It’s Christmas…” he said, the smile he gained now was not at all nice, “If I hear a word of any misery this holiday, I’ll make it my personal mission to hunt you down and assure a living hell for you.”
Now that was unexpected.
“Right.”
A large, warm hand clapped his shoulder, and then the intimidation was gone.
“Great! Lovely meeting you. You can wait for my brother by the door!”
Usually not one to be cowed, Crowley wanted to protest, but he heard footsteps getting closer anyways and figured he’d make it easier on Aziraphale by meeting him at the landing… which also happened to reside by the door.
Aziraphale handed the blanket over in a large tote-bag and then leaned in, whispering, “Apologies for the intrusion… I so wanted to get to know you better.”
“S’alright angel. Tomorrow?”
The nickname slipped in a way that felt like instinct. Like breathing.
“Tomorrow. Anytime,” he said, and for all of Crowley’s wishing, he knew Aziraphale meant it.
“Thank you for the wine, and the company, and the heat-”
Aziraphale laughed and waved him out the door.
“See you tomorrow, dear.”
Crowley walked home blissfully.
He ended up curled on the heated blanket like a snake. The house wasn’t horrifically cold, but it was far too frigid for Crowley’s liking, so he’d tossed down the blanket under Anathema’s covers and settled in with thoughts of blue eyes and softness.
The next day was much kinder. He woke up to warmth and sunlight, nearly forgetting where he was, so blissed out, and then opened his eyes to Anathema’s cottage. Aziraphale sprung to mind like a vivid dream, and the after affects of that had him in the shower instantaneously. All in all, not the worst way to start a Saturday.
Crowley gave Gabriel ample time to vacate his brother’s premises, settling in to the cottage and making himself breakfast with the ingredients his cousin had leftover. It was all organic or locally-sourced stuff, but he actually didn’t mind, as much as he’d give her shite for it. It reminded him to check on the happy couple again, phoning and updating them on how he was doing as well. She took little mercy on his crush. Crowley was forty-eight and hated calling it a crush , but Anathema did not let up, instead began to talk on and on about how she hadn’t predicted this, but now that it had happened, it made infinite amounts of sense.
Okay, so he did preen a bit at that. Crowley wanted Aziraphale to like him, to want to maybe even date him instead of just have an emotionless tumble as it looked like they were heading last night before a well-timed interruption.
When he popped over at half one- plenty of time for Gabriel to eat and chat and leave - Crowley was buzzing with excitement. He left the Bentley again, worried over talks of snow, and that way he could have a few sips of the liquid courage he’d brought with him. It was no Louis Latour Château, but it would have to do. Gabriel’s car was gone, at least, so the odds looked to be in his favor.
Aziraphale opened the door with a brilliant smile. Fuck, but if it wasn’t getting harder and harder to control himself, to keep from jumping the angelic man. He’d known him barely twenty-four hours, and yet Crowley knew he was smitten, knew that this man was either going to mean something very big to him for a very long time, or was going to break his heart into tiny little, Christmas-bulb-sized shards.
“Hey, angel.”
May as well embrace it considering Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind the moniker.
“Come in, Crowley, please. I hope you slept well?”
He hummed and handed back the bag in his hand, drawing out the wine bottle first with a grin.
“Brought this. The house is warm, all thanks to you, and I felt bad for drinking that brilliant bottle last night without some kind of recompense. Though I’d probably need a few bottles to level up to the Château.”
“Nonsense. I can’t imagine you got this in town so I appreciate you sharing your limited supply with me.”
Crowley scoffed.
“There’s more where that came from. The only things I brought were wine, some good books, and my laptop.”
“No clothes besides the ones off your back?” Aziraphale asked as he led them inside.
“Dunno,” Crowley said, sauntering after the other man in equal attempts to catch his attention and keep his eyes on the lovely arse he possessed. “Get these mussed enough and we’ll find out.”
Aziraphale froze as he reached for the wine glasses, and Crowley got a glorious view of sharp lines across his back that seemed perfect for… all the other things going on in his mind. He was trying to be charitable, especially because he couldn’t see the other man’s face all that well, and he didn’t want to come off as a lech.
“And how would that happen, do you surmise?” A warm, receptive tone, and Crowley preened. “Do you think I'll spill wine on you?” Aziraphale turned, a flushed yet confident look on his face as he opened the bottle with a flourish. “Are you going to get the trousers all dusty?”
“Depends,” Crowley muttered, circling the island and looking over Aziraphale’s shoulder, hovering comfortably. “Maybe just the knees.”
The bottle that he’d been pouring was set back on the counter with a heavy thunk as they leaned into one-another.
“Tell me, angel. Are your floors dusty?”
Instantaneously, it felt like, Aziraphale was on him. Warm bodies pressed up against one another, as Crowley sunk hands into the soft sides of Aziraphale, and he into the tresses of Crowley’s hair. Nails on his scalp felt divine, and they were kissing as though their lives depended on it.
Snogging like randy teens more like, but Crowley slowed them down once the initial shock of everything was out of their systems. Many, many minutes and a few handsy grabs later. Crowley placed one, final kiss on Aziraphale’s lips and then gently knocked their foreheads together, breathing in that wonderful moment.
“I hate to ruin the mood, but… I’m clean. Got the records on my phone if you’d care for a look.”
Aziraphale smiled. He felt it, the subtle movements of lips and cheeks. Then heard the little click as he spoke, “So am I. I’ve got the results in a filing cabinet in my office.”
Crowley couldn't help it. He laughed, probably truly ruining the moment now as he brought his hands up and cupped Azirapahle’s face before it could frown.
“You’re the most wonderful and outrageous man I’ve ever met.”
Aziraphale laughed too, then. He was radiant with it. A thick hand landed on Crowley’s chest, gently putting the lapel of his jacket back where it belonged.
“What are we to do from here?”
Crowley considered. Moreover he was a bit distracted by the warm strokes on his chest, but he could persevere for want of more.
“Let’s check for dust, hm?”
Aziraphale hummed deep and closed his hands into Crowley’s in a vice grip. His eyes then looked up, locked onto him so he could get a clear view of that gorgeous blue color.
“And then you’ll fuck me?”
“Ngk, angel, you can’t say that and bloody well expect me to be able to do anything but,” Crowley said, voice hoarse with desire as he leaned in for another kiss.
Then, he kneeled.
Crowley was under no impression that he was a young man. The floor wouldn’t be good for him long-term as he undid Aziraphale’s trousers, relishing in the antiquated braces that held them up. He was luckily tall enough to undo the waist coat and push that along with braces over broad shoulders, then back to business. Aziraphale was hard, large, and Crowley felt a bit reverent at the honor of being before him like this knees or no. He was also painfully tented in his own trousers, but that didn’t matter with one quick glance up into round, blue eyes. Crowley gave the head of Aziraphale’s cock a light kiss and then put his tongue on him, taking him into his mouth without much other ceremony.
“ Oh ,” Aziraphale moaned. “Oh, dear.”
Fingers threaded into Crowley’s hair as moved his head, humming, enjoying himself far more than he should be for a man in his forties kneeling on the hard floor of a kitchen.
Aziraphale’s little sounds and words were making him ache, though, as he used a hand to assist himself. No use in over-stretching his jaw, even if the burn would linger for days to come, reminding him of this lovely moment and the porn-worthy moans that kept coming from above in more-frequent intervals.
“Crowley, you- you must stop,” Aziraphale commanded with a gentle tug on his hair.
Figuring that obeying would mean that this all continued, he let Aziraphale slide over his tongue and then slid his hands down to support himself.
“That was… wonderful, but I think it would be in both our interests to continue this in my bedroom, hm?”
Crowley laughed and nodded, taking the proffered hand of the dressed-down angel in front of him. They kissed, a slow and sensual thing, while Aziraphale attempted to strip him of his clothes.
“Oh, let’s have a look at those knees, shall we?”
As expected, however, Crowley’s trousers were spotless, and with a giddy step, Aziraphale led him to the bedroom.
Having never been in this part of the house, Crowley wanted to take a look around. Not really a mood-heightener: sight-seeing, but it apparently gave Aziraphale enough time to strip the rest of whatever he was wearing and come up behind Crowley to start doing the same for him.
The room was cozy. There was no other word for it. Books were stacked and piled on bookshelves with a reasonable amount of knick-knacks placed there too, and the bed was a grand, classic four-poster that had decadent blue curtains on it and a wonderful smattering of pillows.
Kisses were being burned onto Crowley's neck, though, making him weak in the knees, and eventually he had to acknowledge that they were trying to do something. What truly broke him from the reverie was the hand on his erection, encompassing it gently before stroking and making him buckle with pleasure. Aziraphale caught him around and the waist and emitted a soft chuckle.
“Bed, dear.”
Crowley had no choice but to comply.
He shimmied out of the clothes pooled at his feet, toeing off shoes and socks along with it all, then crawled onto the bed in something he hoped looked sexy despite knowing any sex appeal he had was probably used up by his performance on the kitchen floor.
Aziraphale hovered for but only a moment, drinking him in. Not that Crowley didn’t appreciate the view. He hadn’t seen Aziraphale like this before, not all the muscle and padding, or thick thighs that made Crowley’s mouth go dry.
“You’re gorgeous, angel.”
Hovering over him, Aziraphale huffed.
“How you do go on.”
He tried to distract him with a kiss, blonde curls right under Crowley’s nose as he moved away from his mouth, but with a nudge, they were eye-to-eye once more.
“I mean it. I’ve thought you were gorgeous since you opened the door yesterday.”
Aziraphale blushed. There was no better descriptor for the redness that invaded his cheeks just then, the afternoon sun illuminating every fine line of the glorious man’s face.
Crowley brought a hand up to cradle Aziraphale’s face and smiled, brushing his thumb over the redness.
“It can’t have been only yesterday since I’ve wanted you, Crowley. Feels like a lifetime.”
Crowley kissed him.
“Feels like six-thousand years, angel.”
With a sudden show of strength, Crowley flipped them over and ran his palms all over Aziraphale, letting course blonde hair tickle his skin from his chest, and a perfect nipple get caught between his fingers. Then, he slid down a bit more to the cock he’d had his mouth on earlier and paid homage, stroking for a bit until moving on to graze his hole.
“You really want me to fuck you?”
Aziraphale’s eyes opened wide, shocked by the question, it seemed. Crowley just wanted to make sure, he wanted to know that this was well and truly wanted.
“Please. I’d like nothing more.” Then, as an afterthought, “Lube is in the drawer.”
Hard pressed to turn down anything he was willing to give, Crowley leaned over to the side table and found what he’d been looking for -along with a few cheeky things he hadn’t- and saddled right back up to the angel’s side, coating his finger’s in a shaky motion and steadying himself so as not to rush.
Entering Aziraphale, even with only his fingers, was fodder for his wildest dreams in the future. This day would forever live in his best memories as Crowley leaned over and kissed Aziraphale on the mouth, encapsulating his moans as he fucked him with the first finger. He was tight, but relaxed, and when the man begged for more, it was easy to oblige.
They worked their way up, Crowley dipping down to suck Aziraphale again before told unceremoniously to ‘get on with it already.’
Aziraphale wiggled, wiggled , as Crowley spread open his legs and kneeled between them. They propped Aziraphale’s hips on a thick pillow, and then before he could forget himself, Crowley bent over and kissed the inside of his partner’s thigh, unsure how long the next part of this was going to last and not wanting to rush it. Even lubing himself up was dangerously close to the end of this encounter.
“Ready?” he whispered.
Aziraphale let out a shaky breath.
“More than. I need you.”
Crowley lined himself up and pushed forwards with a slight cant of his hips. The pressure just around the head of his cock was already sending fireworks behind his eyes, and then Aziraphale moved, sliding him deeper inside that tight heat, and he was gone. Like a man possessed, he began to fuck Aziraphale slowly so the movement would loosen enough to begin the real work, allowing him to slide in an out with abandon.
“Aziraphale, you’re bloody perfect ,” Crowley groaned, his eyes closed and particularly concentrated on not coming.
More kisses were involved, plus a few scratches that Crowley would wear like souvenirs, when just a short amount of time later, Aziraphale found release. Of course, these things were a waterfall affect, and Crowley was snapping his final thrusts into Aziraphale’s arse with indulgent moans not too far after.
“Fuck, angel, that was brilliant,” he said to Aziraphale as his orgasm waned, kissing his cheek before rolling off and taking the pressure off his arms.
Aziraphale chuckled and turned over, the mess between them an unabashed proof of just how brilliant it really was.
“Indeed, Crowley dear. I don’t think… well, forgive me for my candor, but I would be remiss if I didn’t- that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”
Crowley laughed freely, glancing over to make sure Aziraphale didn’t take it the wrong way. Instead, he still found a smile and grinned in return.
“You’ve got to know I feel the same. I’m not sure you’re going to get rid of me this next week.”
“Oh, I hope not. It seems Christmas came early.”
“Seems so, angel. Now… would you want to do this in Anathema’s bed?”
A horrified look came over Aziraphale as he startled out of whatever post-sex haze they’d been floating in for the past few minutes.
“What on Earth-”
“They’re at my place currently. Staying in my bed, I'll have you know. I’ve only got the one…” he elaborated with a scrunch of his nose.
“Oh, dear-”
“See what I mean? I’ll wash the sheets, no worries,” he teased.
Aziraphale rolled his eyes, and with a huff began to herd them upwards.
“You’re a wily thing, Anathema warned me as much. We will not be doing such an act there, but you’re welcome to simply… stay here. I’ve got reliable heat and no more surprise siblings.”
“Run out of those? What a shame,” Crowley teased as they began to head towards the bath.
And it was so easy, the two of them. Crowley did end up taking Aziraphale up on the offer, and he spent his first Christmas in Tadfield on the longest first-date of his life. A first which would turn into many more, and many more Christmases beyond that, together . Something Anathema would claim all the credit for in the future, even if she hardly had a thing to do with it.
Of course, as the pair slid into the shower to do all kinds of terrible things with soap, neither of them knew that. All they knew was that it was going to be the best holiday they’d had in years, and maybe they’d finally get around to having a bottle of wine between them, if the fates allowed.