Finally got some art done. Not the best but I did TRY my best. lol
Thank you Azeran and Intergalacticsupertwink for the beta work!
Despite the doom and gloom of their situation, Aziraphale feels like he's flying. His heart is full, his brain is mush, and his cock seems to be the only part of him thinking straight these days. No pun intended. To say that Aziraphale is whipped is like saying the Pope is a religious hobbyist. The angel might as well have been put under a witch's spell. Love is quite literally in the air everywhere the angel goes. Anyone within a three-meter radius of the ethereal being ends up with more money in their purse, candy in their pockets, or flowers in their hair. One evening, Angelique had asked him to turn off his bedside lamp only for Aziraphale to find out that he was the light source in the room rather, his halo was.
Right now Aziraphale hums a merry tune while he tosses his perfectly sauteed spinach and mushrooms into his perfect egg batter to make a perfect omelette, for the absolutely perfect creature still sleeping soundly in their shared bed.
This feeling, this lightness, this happy daze is not new to him. He's been in love for millennia. Aziraphale knows he's undeniably besotted with Angelique. No question about it anymore. What is new, however, is the sense of freedom that unburdens his heart. Loving Crowley has been downright Hell compared to this. Of course, Aziraphale now knows he'd been a fool for too long and that loving Crowley doesn't have to be painful.
And that's the thing. A horrible realisation that Aziraphale absolutely refuses to think about right now is the knowledge that he has unintentionally and regretfully associated loving Crowley with suffering. And who willingly wants to suffer?
Loving Crowley meant fearing the wrath of Heaven and Hell, meant yearning for someone and something he thought he could never have. When the time finally came to allow himself something more with the love of his life, all the red tape, all the stops were gone, but what was left was fear.
Certainly an unfortunate side-effect of the immense influence of Heaven, but now...
Loving this woman has changed everything. Angelique has none of that history with him, no attachments to worry over, and no eggshells to walk on. Being allowed to love like this has given Aziraphale a whole new perspective on pretty much everything, even his relationship with Crowley. The angel feels certain, so confident, that he and Crowley will finally find their way to something like this. That certainty gives him real hope with no nasty feelings of fear or sorrow attached to it.
Yes, with some work on both their parts, he and Crowley could be happy together.
But right now? Aziraphale is metaphorically and literally shining with happiness because today is the day. He's got the day all planned out with romantic gestures, gifts, and mutual indulgences because tonight, he has every intention of getting his rocks off by shagging his sweetheart properly senseless.
Everything is going to be perfect.
Aziraphale's optimism and general euphoric energy is rewarded with everything going exactly as intended. The angel receives beaming smiles, adorable blushes, sweet kisses, and sensuous touches for his valiant efforts in wooing the beauty beside him.
They've picnicked and strolled leisurely by the shore. The sun is setting, and the sky is a wondrous blend of orange, pink and purple. Aziraphale is overwhelmed with yearning as he watches Angelique's smiling profile while she looks out toward the sea. It's been almost two weeks of touching, kissing, and bringing each other off in an array of imaginative means. He's fit to burst. All he wants right now is to lay Angelique down on the damp ground and make love to her right there.
She catches him staring and smirks. "Got something on my face?"
The angel smiles back and nods. "Mhm." He pulls her close and smoothes an errant lock down. "Beauty."
Angelique flushes prettily. "Not so bad yourself, you know?"
He rests his hands on her waist and arches a brow. "What a compliment," he deadpans.
Angelique laughs and then shakes her head. "I know I haven't been very good with telling you how I feel about you. I don't, erm, usually hold back." Her smile fades, and she suddenly looks so vulnerable and apprehensive.
Aziraphale nods. He understands. He tells himself it's normal for someone to be cautious with their heart after it's been broken. Still, it does hurt when he lets it.
"Trust is earned, I know," he murmurs and pulls her even closer.
"Oh, God," Angelique bemoans and covers her face with her hands. "I do trust you, Aziraphale, and I hate that you don't think I do."
"I sense your feelings for me. You don't have to say anything to try and prove it."
"No," Angelique tilts her head up, a look of sharp determination lights her eyes. "Okay, I'm just going to say it."
"Angelique–"
"I love you," she breathes, and Aziraphale's heart swells to a painful degree in his chest. Now that she's said it aloud, it appears to open a floodgate. "I'm terribly in love with you."
Aziraphale can feel her heart hammering against him. "Oh, darling," he gasps, overwhelmed with not just his emotions but hers as well. "I don't think there are words in existence to describe how madly in love with you I am."
Lord, when did it get so easy to say such things aloud? He doesn't even feel a smidge guilty about it. Who is this angel?
Angelique gives him a watery grin. "You're beautiful," she goes on, "I love everything about you."
Beautiful. No one has ever used that word for him. Handsome? Occasionally. Lovely? A few times.
Beautiful. That finally drives him forward to kiss those full lips that are uttering such delightful things. He tries to get closer but can't. They're already as close as they can be with clothes still on. One hand is fisted in her short, dark tresses, one arm wrapped around her waist.
The passionate kiss turns sloppy when Aziraphale feels Angelique thrusting lightly against him. When she growls, he pulls away enough to hiss through gritted teeth. He wants her. He wants her now. But Aziraphale is nothing if not patient. The plan. Stick to the plan, and it will be so much better.
"Let's go home," he murmurs in between kisses. He didn't mean to say "home", but it feels right and he finds Angelique smiling and nodding.
They stumble through the door, pawing at each other and snogging. Angelique starts to undo his belt. He snatches her wrist away and kisses it.
"I have something for you," he says, breathless.
"I don't like how put together you sound. It's not fair," she pouts.
Aziraphale chuckles and pulls her to the sofa where a box lays wrapped in his distinct tartan pattern and a white bow.
Angelique rushes to the gift and seems about to tear into the paper when she suddenly hesitates and begins to gently undo the tape and slide the box out carefully. Aziraphale sniggers and shakes his head, but he waits on bated breath when she finally opens the box and moves the tissues paper aside.
She gasps as she pulls out a crimson dress. "Oh," she breathes reverently as she holds it against herself and looks at how perfectly it will fit.
"I know you miss your lovely dresses," he feels the need to explain. "There are shoes to match as well..."
Satin, with a low V neck and flowing short skirt, it's a dress for a dancer. He can already see her twirling and moving in a ballroom. Perfect.
Angelique looks up at him with a beatific smile. "It's beautiful." She gingerly places the dress back in the box, then turns and nearly tackles him. "You're too good to me." She latches onto his neck, kisses then bites.
"Impossible," he replies hoarsely.
"Upstairs. Now. Please."
Aziraphale leans back and cups her face. "Dinner first.
"No," Angelique lets out like it's the most terrible news, "I know what this is all about. You don't have to work so hard! Let's just do it already!"
The angel can't help but laugh. "It's not about the end goal, you know." She arches a brow. "Well, obviously it is, somewhat. But," he gives her an encouraging shake, "it's about romance." Aziraphale gives her a small pout of his own. "I've never had a proper romance before. I've always imagined one. Thought about roses and–bugger!"
Angelique startles at the sudden and fierce oath. "What?!"
"I forgot the flowers."
"It's okay!"
"Oh, no, and the champagne!" He sounds really distressed now.
Angelique groans. "Fine," she gives in with a huff. She tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss on the nose. "Go get it. I take it I'm supposed to get dressed for this momentous occasion?" She thumbs behind her at the dress with a smirk.
Aziraphale bites down on his lip just picturing her greeting him in the gown. "Only if you like."
"God, your face. Alright." She smiles coyly and begins to push him toward the door. "The faster you get out of here, the faster we'll get to dessert if you catch my meaning."
"Yes, yes, of course," he replies with a dazed smile of his own. "Won't be long." He kisses her long and hard. "Couldn't possibly stay away for long. Lord, you're lovely–"
"Out!"
"Right!" Aziraphale lets out a strange giggle and dashes out the door.
The angel doesn't realise he's humming while he plucks a bottle of the most expensive champagne he can find at the local shop. It will probably be dismal, but a minor miracle will do the trick. And if he uses another small miracle to liven up the slightly drooping roses, no one will notice.
"My!" The woman at the check out exclaims. "Look at the bloom! I've never seen such vibrant roses before!"
All right, so one person noticed.
"Bet there's a lucky fellow waiting for you at home, eh?"
The audacity of this woman! But nothing can shake his glorious mood now. "It is I who is the lucky one, madam. And she is waiting quite impatiently, so if you please–"
"She, huh?" The lady cocks a brow and gives him a long once over. "Right. Here you go." She gives him his change and winks.
He can't even reprimand her ignorance. "Thank you, my dear lady."
With flowers in one hand and a bottle of bubbly in the other, Aziraphale whistles a tune loudly and practically skips out of the store. He turns in the direction of the cottage and starts–
"Those for me, angel? You shouldn't have."
Aziraphale stops dead in his tracks at the sound of that oh-so-familiar drawling voice coming from behind him. "Crowley."
What is that old proverb? Man plans, God laughs. She must be in stitches right now.
OHHHH SHIIIIIT. A good moment for him to show up, huh? XD
