London. Crowley's Mayfair flat. Crowley and Aziraphale come through the entry, magic their overcoats off into the closet. A smug smile flits across Aziraphale's face.
Frivolous miracles never grow old for you, do they, Angel?
The more the merrier, I say.
You should send a week's spreadsheet to Michael some time.
Aziraphale grimaces and shudders as if he's just tasted an especially nasty pickled something or other. Turns toward their couch in the lounge, but Crowley puts an arm around his waist and escorts him to the bedroom instead. Understanding why Crowley has been exceptionally clingy of late, Aziraphale doesn't object. Before they can magic into their dressing gowns, Crowley seats Aziraphale at the base of the bed.
Let me undress you. It's like slowly opening a delightful present.
Crowley snaps his fingers, his clothes transform into his dark silk dressing gown with the deep red lining and the snake pattern that seems to writhe as the fabric drapes and moves. Genuflects to unlace Aziraphale's boots. Slips his hands up the angel's trouser legs to loosen and remove garters and stockings. Rises and sits on the edge of the bed, loosens and removes the gold velvet bow tie and gold winged cufflinks. Slips Aziraphale's jacket off his shoulders and arms. Slides his hands under the Fair Isle sweater and pulls it over the angel's head. Slips the braces off Aziraphale's shoulders. Unbuttons the angel's shirt.
Mmm. Stand up, Angel.
Aziraphale obliges. Crowley unbuttons the angel's trouser fly. Runs his hands over Aziraphale's wooly chest before sliding off the braces, shirt, silk boxers, and trousers to join the rest of the ensemble in the closet. Sits Aziraphale down again, kneels and gently pries apart the angel's habitually-closed thighs, lays his head against Aziraphale's giblets, arms around the angel's hips. Aziraphale feels as if a hot water bottle has been placed in his lap. He puts one soft cold hand upon Crowley's shoulder, pets and strokes the demon's hair with the other.
After a moment, Crowley rises and sits alongside Aziraphale.
Remember when we sat together sunning ourselves on the wall above the Eastern Gate?
The demon plucks at the angel's platinum pubic hair.
First time I got to see your beautiful welcome mat.
Crowley has pulled out a few hairs. Holding them up in one hand, into the other hand he magics a small glass bottle about half-filled with platinum fuzz. Floats the stopper off, places the hairs inside, re-stoppers the vial and magics it back into storage.
Crowley! What on earth are you doing?
Saving your pubic hairs. S'always seemed somehow sacrilegious to just torch them. You being holy and all. And they're so pretty. Like spun silver.
Souvenirs of good times?
Relics, you might say.
Crowley, you are such a delightful ass.
Aziraphale has fallen back onto the bed, his plump belly shaking with laughter. He can't stop. Laughs until he starts to gasp. Draws up his knees, rolls onto his side further up the bed. Bursts into laughter again. Laughs . . . and laughs. . . Rolls onto his back again. Laughs . . . and laughs . . . and laughs. . .
Crowley has lain down upon his side, resting on a cocked elbow with head in hand as he regards this spectacle. Never has he witnessed Aziraphale laugh uncontrollably. Normally the angel merely chuckles, or gives a short laugh and then stops as if worried someone might see him having fun.
Ooof . . . Getting a cramp.
Deep gasps. A final giggle as Crowley's warm hand caresses the soft pillow of Aziraphale's stomach. The angel turns his head toward Crowley. A broad smile is spread across the demon's face, golden snake eyes half-closed in benign amusement.
Feeling better?
Oh yes. Thank you. I needed that.
Aziraphale take a deep breath and hiccups to derail an oncoming giggle. Turns his face upward and closes his eyes as he smiles even more broadly than Crowley. The demon continues to caress the angel's chest as he speaks.
Remember our first night together in this bed?
I shall never forget it, Crowley. You feel asleep. I sat at the foot and drank scotch. Flared my wings and did basic guarding.
Not that night, you idiot. The night we discovered Divine Ecstasy.
Well. Of course I shall never forget that, either.
I was so nervous. The night before, when I fell asleep, I was exhausted.
Indeed. That run-up to Armageddon was no picnic.
And stopping time really takes it out of you. I remember you kissing me on the forehead, though, as I was just dropping off.
Oh. I thought you were already asleep.
Nope. Next night, though, I was desperate to be close to you. Was so afraid you'd trundle off to your bookshop and I'd be left to myself, alone again. Never really got over that ache of loneliness when you disappeared from the wall. What got me through the next 6000 years was running into you as often as possible.
Crowley smiles dreamily.
The Arrangement was magic. Both of us finally figuring out how to avoid doing whatever it was we were supposed to be doing.
Incompetence squared.
Crowley regards him.
I'm not so sure about that. Did you ever really want to be a _competent_ angel?
Well ye- . . .
Aziraphale starts to reply, then pauses and thinks for a long moment.
Actually, what I longed for was to be treated as if I were competent. Not a total fool. But I always somehow failed to behave in the approved manner.
Because, in fact, you're not a fool at all.
And you're far more powerful than you let on. Stopping time isn't an ordinary angel's party trick.
Crowley is silent for a while. Then he shivers.
I was terrified that if I touched you intimately, you'd get indignant and reject me. Had to buck myself up by pretending I was performing a Temptation.
So that's why you flung yourself atop me so violently?
Yep.
Well your Temptation sensor wasn't wrong. I'd never felt so chuffed as after that hug you gave me at the end of our picnic. And when you leaped on top of me in bed that night, I felt as if every atom of fear drained away in a flood. And then, of course . . .
Was that ever a surprise, eh?
The both gaze downward at their growing erections.
My word, yes. I never even thought that we could that.
I did. After watching Adam and Eve. But nothing ever happened for me. So I gave up trying. Figured celestial bodies just didn't work the same. Although thinking of you did give me a nice twitch every now and again.
Aziraphale looks shifty. Then admits:
Me, too. But of course we would have been extinguished had we let things go further.
Yep. Total extinction is a definite boner-killer.
They turn heads and regard one another.
This time Aziraphale rolls atop Crowley, thrusting has hands through the demon's hair as he violently kisses him. Crowley reciprocates the kiss. Several seconds later, the demon's back arches, knees raise, toes curl up. Aziraphale buries his ecstatic face atop Crowley's shoulder. They levitate a few inches.
No waiting on Divine Ecstasy this time, either.
First time was in the short story at the beginning of this series, You Can Stay at My Place if You Like.
