Disclaimer: Crowley and Aziraphale (despite being a hot rockstar in my head who I'd totally be a groupie of) are not characters of my own creation. Neither is the book Good Omens.
Author's Note: Let me know what you guys think; positive or negative! Please review, thanks :)
ALL IN A LIFETIME'S WORK
Chapter 5
The flight back from Chigago in Aziraphale's chartered plane was rather boring and uneventful, save for one thing; a letter.
Crowley spent his time emptying the plane's stock of alchohol while bugging Aziraphale who tried his best to read through his fanmail, personally answering each one carefully. Crowley couldn't understand this - 'thats what your staff is for angel' - but Aziraphale adamantly wanted to do it himself; 'Wouldn't you be so put-out to learn that your hero didn't even write you back himself?' The angel's english by now would automatically switch back to English whenever the demon was around. None of the staff noticed.
Gabriel on the other hand spent the flight staring at his laptop computer, typing and talking on his cellphone.
Aziraphale had come upon one interesting letter, knitting his brow in confusion. "Look at this Crowley, I don't believe I've ever recieved something like this." he handed the piece of paper to the inebriated demon who had to take a couple of tries before succesfully snatching the letter out of the other's hand. He read for a while then let out a hearty laugh.
"It's a stalker, angel." Crowley began reading, amused;
"'Azira, why do you always answer my letters like you've never met me? Why do you pretend to be what you are not? I know who you are. I know we are meant to be together. Always and forever. You are my angel Azira. Mine. - J.S.'
The lock of blonde hair's a nice touch."
Aziraphale must have looked ill so Crowley added; "Don't worry about these things too much. Every celebrity gets some sort of stalker one time or another." He handed the angel the tiny bottle of scotch, noticed it was empty and willed the poor receptacle to refill itself. "It's not like you can't take care of yourself Aziraphale. How many mortals do you think can take down an angel?"
"Well," Aziraphale said carefully, "I suppose you're right my dear." He took the scotch and knocked it back quickly, "I suppose you're right."
*******
Dinner was waiting for them when they arrived at Aziraphale's flat. Crowley learned quickly that Aziraphale disliked going out for dinner anymore, preferring his personal chef to work out his meals while he was away. Nobody ever asked why the food never spoiled (even if it had probably been waiting at the table for the last 3 days), and was always at the perfect serving temperature when Aziraphale sat down to finally eat. That was of course, because, nobody, not even his personal chef hung about the angel's home long enough to find out. Everything was a carefully orchestrated convenience thanks to Gabriel.
Crowley sat at the table and plucked up a piece of fruit, "Looks great angel." He eyed Aziraphale who shrugged and turned to walk up his stairs.
"You go ahead, I feel like taking a shower."
"Since when have you taken a shower Aziraphale?" Crowley said, watching the angel's retreating form. "You could always will yourself clean you know."
"Of course, my dear." Aziraphale sighed, "Its just... I need a bit of time to think. Showers are good for that." He didn't want to admit just yet how rattled that letter got him. The lock of hair on the letter was his. Where could someone have picked that up? "I'll be right back." With that, he bounded up the stairs.
Crowley shrugged and settled back into his chair. He opened the waiting merlot and poured himself a glass, deciding to wait for the angel before starting dinner. His eyes surveyed the angel's temporary home and found that he rather liked the decor, minus the expensive dust collectors here and there. The place could use a few houseplants though, he mused. Everything looked so unlike Aziraphale's taste and no traces that the angel actually lived in the space. Crowley wondered how the angel lived like this for the last couple of years without going crazy. He knew how stubborn Aziraphale could be once he's set in his ways, his personal sense of fashion was a testament to that. And even in that, Heaven had enforced change. Crowley almost felt guilty that he hasn't come earlier to visit. Fortunately for him, guilt was not a default demonic disposition. Besides, when Aziraphale told him about this new assignment, the angel insisted that he be left alone.
The demon glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost 10 in evening now; about 3 in the morning in London. Patience was also not a default demonic disposition, so he drank down the last of the red wine and got up to check on Aziraphale. He slowly ascended the stairs, and the sounds of the running shower wafted down the hall. That and Aziraphale's distinct voice, singing.
Crowley listened entranced, realizing for the first time that he's never actually heard Aziraphale sing. Angels had always been known for their songs; voices gifted with such clarity and sweet tonality it could bend mortal wills. Crowley followed the voice, intently listening to the melody. Aziraphale's voice was perfectly pitched, wondrously vivid like cascading silk in Crowley's mind. Yes, angels could sing, but he's heard none sing like Aziraphale. He closed his eyes, caught in the sweet sound as he found the bath and grasped the doorknob turning it slowly. The door opened silently, steam escaping through the small crack, Aziraphale's voice sounding louder.
.... Is it a sin?
Is it so wrong to love you the way I do?
I long for you.
I do....
Crowley peered in slowly and quietly, not wanting to disturb the song. He found Aziraphale's silhouette behind the shower curtain, and licked his lips unconsciously. The demon watched the lithe body bend over to soap and rinse its legs, methodically scrubbing upward then finally stretching up to face the stream of water. He must have sighed then, because suddenly the voice stopped singing and the water tap turned off.
"Crowley?!" Aziraphale was peering wide eyed behind the shower curtain, cheeks ablaze. "What are you doing here?"
"Er. I - I heard you singing and well, I -" Crowley collected himself, completely unaquainted with the feeling of being caught red-handed. He usually incited that and not the other way around. "I've never heard you sing before." he said as conversationally as he could muster under the circumstances. His mind was screaming 'naked angel!' to all of his senses.
Aziraphale reached for a towel and wrapped it around his waist before stepping out. "Really?" he eyed the demon quizzically. "Was it alright?"
Alright? Damn angel, its just about the sweetest most wonderful thing I've ever heard in 6000 years of existence. Crowley coughed, "It was okay." He advanced forward and tried to look as casual as he can, sidling up to the surprised angel, "Or rather, it was exquissssite."
"Oh. Thank you Crowley." he took a step back, knowing immediately what was on the demon's mind. Aziraphale knew his infernal counterpart well enough to know the demon hisses for only three reasons; anger, stress and -
Crowley took two more steps and pinned the angel to the wall; a hand came up to cradle Aziraphale's head as he pressed a heated kiss on the angel's lips. "I certainly misssed this angel." Crowley smiled into the angel's mouth, forcing apart Aziraphale's lips with his tongue.
The angel gasped, and felt Crowley's probing tongue as he struggled to stay on his feet. He needn't have worried though, for Crowley was pressed up against him so close, it was a wonder the wall hasn't given way yet. "Crowley - I can't -" he said in between gasps and moans as he felt the demon nuzzling his ear then began trailing wet kisses downwards. "Gabriel -"
"I don't care." came the muffled reply. "The archangel sssaid I could do anything I wanted as long as I didn't interfere with your work," Crowley's tongue traced a line back up to Aziraphale's neck. The angel moaned against his will. "I'm not interfering, right?"
Aziraphale closed his eyes, breathing hard regardless of the fact that he really didn't need the oxygen. "I... s-suppose not."
"Actually, I'm helping to cheer you up assss it were..." Crowley whispered into Aziraphale's ear, sending shivers up and down the holy spine. "Admit it angel, you miss thissss just as much as I do..."
"I... uh..."
Crowley smiled impishly as he felt the angel's resolve weakening. Damn the archangel if he found out - if he doesn't already know - he'll deal with it in the morning. Right now, all that mattered was his angel. His Aziraphale.
"Let's pretend tonight we're in Soho, our London. The way it once was"
He let his hands wander down to the angel's waist, pulling him closer. Crowley found Aziraphale's lips once again, and this time, there was no protest.
That night, Aziraphale found himself using his bed for the first time since he's moved in.
With great earnest.