male!Crowley/male!Aziraphale - 41 AD Rome

Crowley hadn't liked Rome when he'd first arrived. It was loud, crowded, and entitled. He begrudgingly liked how modern it was, but frankly, he preferred the vibe of the Vikings further north. He wasn't about to waste time researching a place he didn't plan to stay in, so he just threw on whatever seemed right, styled his hair after a statue he'd passed, and then gone to do his temptation.

It went terribly.

Everyone was staring at him like he was crazy, and his target had been so distracted by his new sunglasses that he'd spent more time staring at Crowley like he was the demon he was, rather than deciding embezzlement sounded like fun.

Frustrated, he decided to stop for a drink of whatever was strongest at a local bar before leaving this cursed continent for a while when he'd run into his delightful angel.

Aziraphale looked every inch like he belonged. His robes hung like any other patron, his fluffy hair was wild and unstyled, and while he hadn't seen anyone else wearing an angel wing pin, it worked with the outfit and no one paid it any notice. That wasn't to say Aziraphale wasn't drawing eyes, but it was lust being directed toward him, not confusion.

Crowley self consciously adjusted the hang of his robes to match his angel's – even if he kept them black. It was impossible to keep up with how humankind chose to dress across continents, though he was normally a bit faster on the pick up then his angel, still, he was a bit disappointed in himself. For a moment he considered adjusting the color as he could see no one else wearing black, but what could he say? He looked good in black. If anyone asked he could always claim he was in mourning. He lost the garland headpiece he'd chosen as well. It had seemed mandatory from all the paintings he'd walked past, but literally no one was wearing one, so he ditched it.

If Aziraphale noticed his fashion faux pas he didn't comment. All he did was smile wide, his eyes sparkling.

"So good to see you, my dear!"

"And you. Feels like ages."

"Oh, certainly not that long."

"A few hundred years at least. I should have known you'd end up here. The cultural center of the world and all that."

Aziraphale shrugged and signaled for a drink. He gave the bartender a grateful nod, and Crowley scowled at the surge of lust from the man. A small demonic miracle blew up a bottle behind the bar, jerking the human's attention away.

"Really, dearest?"

Crowley shrugged, sipping his drink. It actually wasn't bad, much to his surprise. He tapped the glass and it refilled. He smirked at Aziraphale's disproving look, though it quickly morphed into something softer. "So tell me, how much of the... culture here are you responsible for?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Aziraphale said primly, drinking deeply from his cup.

"Oh, sure. All the... uh... Literature? Architecture? You've clearly been going a bit overboard with the miracles."

"They've done it all themselves, and they have much more than that! What about their contributions to modern language, and religion? Society as a whole! And technology? Engineering? Humans have come up with such amazing and creative things!"

"Very creative, to be sure. War, slavery, conquest..."

"Well, yes, they do have quite the army, and a certain thirst for..."

"And gladiators! Don't forget them! They get a kick out of watching men fight to the death. Doesn't really sound like your kind of place when it's put that way, does it?" With a grin, he finished his drink and tapped the glass to refill it. The barman walked past, setting another drink in front of Aziraphale, and looking at Crowley's full glass in confusion.

"Not all of their fighting is to the death," Aziraphale complained.

"Only most of it."

"No. They aren't anywhere near as barbaric as you seem to think."

"They enjoy watching people kill each other! For fun!" Crowley teased.

"What, and your Vikings are so much better?"

"Oh, my sweet, beautiful angel. Killing out of necessity and watching people kill each other for entertainment are two very different things."

"Necessity? From what I hear your Vikings get quite the kick out of it."

"You know what I'm hearing? You're throwing down a lot of baseless, slanderous accusations about a surprisingly pleasant group of people, and while you're trying to distract me with that you aren't doing anything to defend your silly Romans."

"You wicked serpent," Aziraphale scowled. "These people have plenty of nonviolent activities. Like... uh..."

"You can't even think of anything!"

"Wrestling! Yes, wrestling is a – a battle of strength and determination that almost never ends with a fatality."

"No. No, no, no. I'm calling you on that, angel. I need proof."

"Fine," Aziraphale said primly. "There's a match tonight as luck would have it."

"Tonight, eh? Whatever will we do to pass the time?"

Time passed faster than Crowley would have liked, but time with Aziraphale always did. All too soon the sun was setting, and they were heading to Colosseum. Inside there were hundreds of candles and torches lighting everything.

Aziraphale led them to seats fairly close to the front, somehow miraculously empty. Crowley looked at everything, intrigued by the sights, the sounds, the excitement dancing in the air over the crowd.

A cheer rose as two men stepped out of two opposing doorways, and walked towards the center of the field.

Crowley did a double-take. The two extremely muscled men were completely naked and covered in oil that glistened in the light of the fire. When the two met in the center there was a brief nod, an acknowledgment, and then they were circling each other, testing the water with small quick movements to grab at the other.

It was weird, strangely erotic, and captivating. Crowley wasn't sure what the rules were, but that didn't stop his enjoyment. The two men were grappling, capturing wrists or arms, the slick of the oil making every movement a challenge, doing their best to knock the other down as the crowd roared. The battle lasted for almost an hour before one man was declared the victor.

Crowley smiled gleefully as they walked out.

"Quite the sport," Aziraphale said, his hands folded in front of him as they walked down the dark city streets.

"It was an awful lot of fun," Crowley said with a grin. "I am always a fan of a fixed match."

"... What does that mean?"

"Come on now! You can't honestly think that was real!"

"Of course it was!"

"No way. If we followed those two I'm sure we'd see money changing hands right now."

"You – You've never even been to a match before! How would you know if it was fixed?"

"Angel, I'm a demon. It's my job to know these things."

"Well my dear, I don't believe you. I need proof."

"Alright, fine. I'll show you. Where are you staying?"

Aziraphale's current home was on the edge of the main city. It was big, luxurious, and exactly what Crowley expected of his angel. Everything about his home from the paintings on the wall to the furniture screamed comfort. Even the bed he knew Aziraphale never used was sinfully soft. Crowley threw himself down on it and seriously considered sleeping for the next decade, but he had more important things to do first. Out back there was a large walled-in garden that was perfect for Crowley's purposes.

Aziraphale joined him holding two large glasses of wine. Crowley smirked. "Trying to distract me?"

"Just being a good host," Aziraphale said, hiding a smile behind his own glass.

Crowley drank deeply, humming in appreciation of the vintage. Trust the angel to know his tastes.

"So how exactly are you going to prove your point out here?"

"We, my dear sweet angel, are going to wrestle."

"...How would that prove anything?"

"How would it not?"

"A match between us doesn't prove or disprove cheating between someone else."

"I think you're just afraid."

"Of what?"

"Losing. To me. Right here, right now."

"That's a bit presumptuous. You don't even know how to wrestle."

Crowley shrugged. "How hard can it be?" With a gesture, their glasses were gone.

Aziraphale huffed a laugh and moved across the perfectly manicured grass an arms reach away from the demon, turning to face him. Crowley grinned and quickly stripped off his clothing, tossing them haphazardly behind him. He took an extra moment to put a bit of effort into his current gender.

"What are you doing?"

"From what we just watched it seems this sport is done naked, is it not?"

"Well..."

"Come on, angel. We need to do this right."

To his utter delight, Aziraphale stripped off his clothing, dropping them in a pile next to him. Crowley felt a hot twist in his gut as the angel put forth the effort too.

"Ready?" Aziraphale asked.

"Almost." A snap and they were covered in oil.

Aziraphale shook his head fondly and gestured Crowley closer. When they were an acceptable distance apart, Aziraphale started to circle. Pleased, Crowley followed suit.

"The goal," Aziraphale said, "is to get your opponent on his back three times."

"Seems easy," Crowley said. The breath was knocked out of him as his back hit the ground, Aziraphale pinning him effortlessly.

"Does it?" Aziraphale pressed a kiss to his ear.

"Cheater," Crowley said. He stretched languidly, shifting up to press against the angel as fully as possible.

"That's one," Aziraphale said. He stood, pulling Crowley to his feet as he went.

They moved back to their starting positions and circled briefly. This time when Aziraphale moved Crowley was ready. They locked, each trying to overpower the other. It was honestly a lot of fun, but then again, the opportunity to grapple with a naked Aziraphale was always going to be fun. Once again Aziraphale got the better hold and tossed Crowley to the ground. This time he was ready and rolled before the angel could pin him.

"How many times have you done this?" He asked, panting.

With a quick move, Aziraphale had Crowley on the ground again. "I've never done this before."

Crowley surged up and flipped them, pinning Aziraphale. "You seem very good at this for someone who has never done this before. Are you lying, angel?"

Aziraphale scowled and tried to get up, but Crowley quite liked his position and put a bit of demonic power into his grip, keeping him in place. "Angel," he sang.

"I've watched a fair amount, but no, I've never partaken. It seemed... deceitful. It's not as though a human could move me if I didn't want to be moved."

Crowley slipped a knee between Aziraphale's thighs, kissing him messily. "So I'm your first. I love it when I'm your first." With a growl he bit a line down Aziraphale's throat, relishing in his angel jerking up beneath him. "I win."

He most decidedly did not squeak when Aziraphale flipped them again, and then they began fighting in earnest, neither giving any quarter. The oil made it more of a challenge for either to get a good hold, although that may have just been the distracting slide of skin on skin. Thankfully Aziraphale still seemed to be fighting like a human, so with a few quick tricks, and morphing of his bone structure Crowley was able to get behind his angel, trapping his arm with enough pressure to keep him down. Aziraphale refused to go quietly, but with the way Crowley was holding him he was only able to push himself up a little, one arm the only thing keeping his shoulders from being pressed to the grass.

"Looks like I've got you," Crowley hissed, grinding his hips forward. "You look so good like this. You're so beautiful."

"Don't say things like that," Aziraphale panted, shifting a little in his grip as he tried to pull away.

"Oh? Why not?" Crowley twisted Aziraphale's arm a tad cruelly until he stilled.

"Because it's not true –"

Crowley twisted until Aziraphale cried out, and then loosened his grip just slightly. "Don't say things like that," he growled.

Aziraphale glared at him over his shoulder. "Why should you care –"

"Why should I – You're mine, angel! I won't tolerate anyone talking about you like that, not even you." With a growl he used his hold to flip Aziraphale on his back and crowded close, running greedy hands up Aziraphale's thighs, and up his stomach. His mouth followed, biting the soft skin until he reached Aziraphale's throat. "You are beautiful. In every way. And I won't stop telling you that until you believe it." Crowley pressed forward, the kiss a possessive brand that left Aziraphale breathless beneath him. I think I win, angel."

"Did you?" Aziraphale panted.

Crowley sucked a bruise beneath Aziraphale's jaw. "How do you have that ridiculous idea in your head anyway?"

Aziraphale's breath caught. He wrapped his legs around Crowley's waist, pulling him closer. "I just like to be comfortable, but I know humans have a standard of beauty, and I don't –"

"Their standard changes every decade or so, you can't take anything they think seriously."

"I'm not stupid, Crowley."

"You are certainly sounding a bit..."

"You know I can sense love and –"

"Love? Do I look like I give a fuck about love? I'm talking about lust, angel, and it rages around you like an inferno. No, angel. If I found even the faintest hint of love in those human's around you, I would rip them limb from limb for imagining you like this. For daring to touch what's mine."

Aziraphale's head was thrown back against the grass, his hair spread out around him like a halo. His fingers dug into the grass for purchase as he screamed Crowley's name into the still night. The sound of it broke what little remained of Crowley's control, and his nails dug into the soft flesh of Aziraphale's hips as he pulled the angel ever closer, losing himself in the divine warmth around him.

Afterward they lay sprawled together, panting as they watched the stars, their limbs a loose tangle.

"Okay, that was well worth the trip to Rome."

"Marry me?" Aziraphale asked.

"I think we did this in the wrong order then," Crowley chuckled. "Unless this culture is vastly different than everywhere else I've been lately."

"There are plenty of places where sex isn't dependent on marriage," Aziraphale scoffed.

"But every one of those cultures has sex immediately after."

Aziraphale tried to look annoyed, but the contentment coming off him was too strong for that illusion to last. He settled for poking Crowley in the side. "Do you want to get married or not?"

"I'll always want to marry you, angel. Don't be silly. Do I need to... change for this?"

Aziraphale smiled, running a careful hand through Crowley's flaming red hair. "You can if you'd like, my dearest." His hand traveled to his face, running over the demon's lips. Crowley bit at them playfully. "But you don't have to. I think you look quite nice as you are."

Crowley flushed, pleased Aziraphale couldn't see it in the darkness. "Well, I suppose if you want to we could. It has been a while."

"In the morning then?"

"Ehh..." Crowley drawled.

"Eh?"

"I've been trying this human thing lately. Sleeping. Have you ever partaken? I always thought it was a waste of time, but it's quite nice. And sleeping in the morning sun? Absolutely amazing. Would you mind terribly if we got married in the afternoon?"

Aziraphale shot him a slightly puzzled look, but Crowley radiated innocence. "...Alright. Would you like to use my bed? It's quite nice. A bit dusty perhaps, but I'm sure I can freshen it up a bit. Would... you like me to join you?"

"Ah, no, don't worry about it. I'm sure you have plenty of reading to do. Maybe another time? Oh! How about after the wedding!"

"I suppose –"

"Besides, wouldn't it be more romantic to have that be our first time?" Crowley leered.

"It would hardly our first time, we've been married for –"

"Our first time cuddling."

"We've cuddled before, we're cuddling now –"

"Don't ruin this for me, love," Crowley winked. With one last lingering kiss, Crowley slipped away, shutting himself in Aziraphale's opulent bedroom with a firm click. Then he was out the window into the night, rushing like a madman to find someone he could interrogate about Roman weddings.

The sun was high by the time Crowley returned. Aziraphale was standing peacefully in front of his home, eyes closed as the sun bathed his face. Crowley joined him, a tad apprehensively.

Aziraphale opened his eyes, looking at him with a smile, and paused.

Crowley was still male, but he was wearing a very feminine outfit, with a woolen belt which was tied in an intricate knot. He'd been assured by a team of very drunk women that it was mandatory for a wedding.

Aziraphale's eyes settled on it, knowing and intrigued. "A nodus Herculaneum?"

With a smirk, the knot began to writhe like a nest of snakes. "It's traditional."

"How many kids are we planning to have then?" Aziraphale teased.

"Well, I hear the goal is seventy, so I imagine somewhere around there."

"Seventy seems a bit much."

"Depends on perspective. Look at how many children our mother had. Clearly it isn't that hard."

"Or I suppose we could spread them out a bit..."

"Raise a few dozen at a time..." Crowley mused.

"Mmm. Are we going to name them after people we know?"

"What, like name one after Hastur? Michael? Gabriel?"

"Not Gabriel," Aziraphale grumbled.

"Well come to that, not Hastur then either. And Michael? Complete bitch."

"We're meant to name them after people we like, aren't we?"

"I don't know about you, but I hate everyone in Hell."

"I think that's mandatory," Aziraphale said.

"Don't be like that. I happen to know you hate everyone in Heaven."

"Hm," but he didn't deny it. "So who are we to name these future hypothetical children after?"

"Various members of humanity I suppose."

"Considering the belt's origin, Hercules would be a good start."

"I'm not sure how well that name will age."

"And any child of ours would likely be immortal, so aging well needs to be a factor."

"Likely? What else would they be? You don't think we'd have human children, do you?"

"... That would be unlikely," Aziraphale conceded.

"The real question would be, will our offspring be angelic or demonic?"

"Occult or Ethereal," Aziraphale said knowingly.

"Wouldn't they be Nephilim?" Crowley said thoughtfully.

"I'm not sure either of us can bear children though."

"Details. Now, are you ready to get started?" With a flourish he revealed a golden signet ring. He'd been persuaded by a very aggressive brunette at the bar that they were all the rage.

Aziraphale looked fascinated. He held out a hand. The white and gold ring from Egypt was still on his finger, the only thing keeping it from dissolving with age was a series of heavenly miracles. Crowley carefully removed it and slid the signet ring into place.

"I want that back," Aziraphale said absently. It was old, but so was he, and there was no way he would discard the first ring Crowley ever gave him.

Crowley shook his head fondly and passed the old ring back, amused when Aziraphale tucked it away safely. "Do you have something for me?"

Aziraphale smiled fondly and held out a ring of his own. It was a twisting black band that looked suspiciously like a snake made of obsidian with a deep blood red ruby embedded in the center. It was beautiful and exactly his style. Aziraphale to slip it on his finger, and Crowley was amazed, watching the color stark against his skin.

"It's a bit on the fragile side, just by the nature of the stone. I used a few... enhancements of my own to try to preserve it, but just be aware that it may chip."

"It's never going to chip, angel, believe me. Now, where were we? Ah, yes." Crowley held at his hand. "Some very enthusiastic young ladies told me that for this to be official we need to make our intentions publicly known."

"You... actually looked into it?"

"Oh yes, angel. I even got a... what was it called... a conubium. Permission and what not. We've got to do this properly, and getting told off on citizenship would not be a good end to the night. Give me your hand. We need to walk through the city holding hands so everyone knows what we're going to do."

A bemused Aziraphale happily took Crowley's hand and they set off through the town. The mere act garnered some looks, but not as many as Crowley would have liked. That was until they left the residential sector and reached the city square. His chest puffed with pride at all of the looks they received.

No one knew who Crowley was. He was handsome, but aside from that, he was a nonentity. Everyone knew Aziraphale – if they hadn't talked to him they'd at least seen him. Blonde was an uncommon and highly desired color, bound to turn heads, and the man himself was incredibly kind if easily distracted by the written word. Aziraphale waved at the people he knew, and to Crowley's surprise, many of them joined them on their walk. In fact, the further they walked the more people joined them. The most surprising thing was how loud they were. There was excitement, and dancing and Crowley could swear he even heard cheering. He looked around behind them and saw a flood of people pressing behind them.

"How... do you know so many people? Should I be concerned?"

"No, dear boy," Aziraphale laughed. "You wanted to declare a wedding, and so you have! These lovely people want to be in on the fun. Wouldn't you join a mob of dancing, happy people if you saw one?"

"Strictly for tempting purposes only."

"Whatever you say, love."

"Where are we heading anyway?"

"I thought you asked about weddings?" Aziraphale teased.

"Broadly. Broadly. I thought we just walked around the block and that took care of it."

"That wouldn't be any fun. We're going all the way across the city. I have a friend who happens to be a priest, and he's agreed to do the ceremony. We're heading to his house, up there on the hill."

"Of course you have a priest friend. I suppose you made sure we had permission too..."

"Of course I made sure we had permission. These people all think I'm a citizen, but I wasn't so sure they'd think you were. And you say that like you don't have any priest friends."

"Of course I do, but they're a little more... fast and loose with their devotion. Not the kind you'd like to meet."

"I'd love to meet them. I do so love thwarting your wiles, and if it means leading a lost soul back to our Mother, all the better."

"Angel, you wound me. Talking of thwarting me on our wedding day." He smiled and squeezed Aziraphale's hand tighter.

The house on top of the hill was one of the largest building Crowley had seen so far in this country that wasn't a temple or palace of some kind, and he couldn't help but wonder how pure and righteous the man who owned such a place would be. There was no way that a truly devout person had made enough money legally to afford that. If it were any other day he might have teased has angel about it, but today was special. It could wait.

The manicured lawn was pristine. It was unnecessarily large, and filled with all kinds of trees and bushes that created an artificial privacy wall. It continued around the house to the back where Crowley could see people bustling hurriedly, setting up tables. A selection of the staff were dressed in their best, lining the walk up to the front doors, which were thrown wide open. The crowd that had followed them all the way up filled the front lawn, still celebrating, many making their way around the house. Servants carrying dishes of food walked out to meet them.

"Okay, seriously. Where are we?" Crowley hissed.

"My friend's house."

"Bullshit. No way. Lies."

"Seriously."

"There is no way this belongs to a priest."

"Crowley..."

"And even if I concede that it might, why are we here instead of say... a temple?"

"I thought you researched weddings?" Aziraphale teased.

"Doesn't mean I paid that much attention."

"Weddings are typically performed at the parent's home. Since neither of us has something like that, I reached out to my friend. He felt bad that we don't have any extended family, and promised to spare no expense."

"Taking advantage of a human with cash. Naughty naughty."

"That's not – We're not – Oh, no, are we? I need to stop this..."

"Angel, angel. Look at this place! Whoever this human is, it's clear he can spare enough for a party. Plus think of the good karma. No way he jumps at doing this for you if he doesn't have something to atone for."

"But I..."

"Hush, we're doing this. It'll be my good deed for the decade."

"Taking advantage is a good deed?"

"Oh certainly. He clearly needs help feeling like he's donating to someone in need. I'm happy to sacrifice myself for his well being."

"Welcome." The priest stood in his ceremonial vestments on a slightly raised platform. He gestured the pair closer, looking at Aziraphale with a bit too much fondness.

Crowley fought the urge to kick him.

As though reading his mind the priest focused on the demon. Crowley quickly straightened in response. "Do you consent?"

"To...?" Crowley's eyes darted Aziraphale. If the angel thought they were inviting this man to any future wrestling matches he was sorely mistaken.

"... To this union?"

Crowley felt like an idiot, but beside him Aziraphale's smile shown brightly, so he couldn't feel too terrible. "Yes," he said.

"And do you?" The priest asked Aziraphale.

"Of course," the angel answered.

There was no doubt in his mind that his angel would answer that way, but his heart still skipped a beat.

The priest's eyes gazed over the crowd of people still streaming into the room. Crowley couldn't tell if they were the same ones who'd followed them through the streets, or if Aziraphale had planned for them too.

"Does anyone here object?" A beat of silence. "Then let us begin. Quando tu Gaius, ego Gaia."

The women had apparently missed a few steps, but they had prepared him for this, so Crowley knew to chant back perfectly in time with Aziraphale. "Quando tu Gaius, ego Gaia"

After that Crowley didn't pay much attention to what the priest had to say. There was something about the various Gods, and asking for blessings. He didn't come back until the servants brought out a simple cake. Another chant, and then the priest offered it to the fire and to Jupiter. Then he turned, and offered the cake to Crowley, who obediently took a small bite, and then to Aziraphale.

Crowley had never been a fan of food, and to him the cake wasn't anything special. Aziraphale would make a better judge. He looked to his angel who seemed quite pleased with it. As soon as he swallowed Crowley pulled him into a lingering kiss, and the guests erupted. Then he was being slapped on the back by a pleased audience as they were led out onto the yard.

To Crowley it all seemed a bit fake – these people didn't know them after all, but Aziraphale was blushing, pleased. He took Crowley by the hand and led him through the throng of cheering people to the gardens that stretched behind the house. A large feast had been laid, and soon the lawn was full of people talking, laughing, eating. All of them seemed so happy about the wedding, that it was frankly a bit confusing. People he didn't know – couldn't possibly know – were slapping him on the back and congratulating him. It was weird and baffling, but Aziraphale was by his side the whole time making it at the very least tolerable. The chances were high that if he'd been alone all these people would be going home with some severe food poisoning.

The biggest annoyance was the food. He wasn't in any way interested in the small cubes of meat, cheese, vegetables, or pastries, but morsels kept getting forced on him anyway. Even when he tried to turn it down, or turn away, the food would still somehow find its way into his hand. To his absolute delight, Aziraphale was more than happy to eat whatever Crowley offered him – which was everything – licking the demon's fingers to get every last crumb.

The sun was beginning to set as dinner came to an end, and the energy from the crowd was mounting. Soon the priest appeared at the door, the crowd cheering to see him, and then spilled past until they were alone.

"Are you ready?"

"For... what?" Crowley asked.

"I'm starting to doubt you actually researched weddings, my dear. You seem to be missing several parts."

"Of course I did. I know a wedding when I see one. We got married."

Aziraphale smiled sweetly and squeezed his hand. The priest turned and led them back through the house and out the front door. The guests were waiting for them.

"Quando tu Gaius, ego Gia?" The priest asked again.

"Quando tu Gaius, ego Gia!" The crowd shouted.

"Quando tu Gaius, ego Gia," Aziraphale and Crowley joined.

Then they were walking down the path, the crowd of people throwing flowers and nuts as they went. As they hit the main road even more people joined, laughing and dancing.

"I mean it, who are these people?" Crowley hissed. A miracle made sure none actually touched him, the same could not be said for Aziraphale. "Are you using a miracle? Trying to spice this up?"

"That's so wasteful," Aziraphale laughed. "I'd never."

"You would so."

Eventually, they made it back to Aziraphale's home.

The angel swept Crowley up into his arms, and stepped them both over the threshold, kicking the door shut to drown out the mob.

Crowley giggled, ducking his head into the curve of Aziraphale's throat. "I have to admit, that was far more public than I realized."

"It is an odd experience, I'll grant you," Aziraphale said. "Fun to watch though." He carried Crowley through the various halls until he reached the bedroom.

"Have you ever participated?"

"Yes. It's a bit hard to resist when you see a crowd passing. And then there's the free food so..."

"Ah, of course," Crowley said, as he hit the mattress with a slight bounce. "And now consummation time."

"Have you forgotten already?" Aziraphale teased. "We already did that part. You're meant to be showing me the joys of sleep."

"Cuddling all night, how could any sane man refuse?"

"My thoughts exactly," Aziraphale said. He stretched himself out over the demon, his fingers deftly untying the nodus Herculaneum still around Crowley's waist, their mouths effortlessly finding each other.

"I thought you wanted to sleep?" Crowley laughed.

"Later."