Oh Crowley

A/N So I was waiting until S2 came out to jump on the AziraCrow bandwagon. Yes that is what I will be referring to them as, or do they already have some super cool shipname, Idk. But as you can see, I am here because they actually freaking canonised their relationship so that is mega exciting and super cute! Yes this is going to be cheesy, I promise I will have some better, more in character stuff later.

*The not-so distant past* The flat above Aziraphale's bookshop, London, Earth 1983

"I didn't just end the world, angel." Crowley said stomping around the room, his sunglasses in hand, his brow creased as he straightened his jacket - leather and old but he wouldn't mind it for the next few decades.

"Yes, but you could've done. Oh Crowley you must be more careful." Aziraphale replied, his hands out in front of him, gesturing like he's a schoolteacher. Crowley shot him a look. His eyes flashing their distinct yellow as he continued to stomp. Attitude included.

"When are you going to stop pestering me about it anyway?" His voice is gruff, but Aziraphale knew he was just defending himself, but really he was just thinking about it again. He loved to hate Aziraphale's antics, his constant rule abiding stance on almost everything. He was thinking about it again because the angel was caring again. And he didn't think that was particularly fair when he didn't even start it in the first place.

Aziraphale sat down in his armchair, huffing out an exasperated breath before looking away.

Crowley rolled his eyes, great now he won't talk to me until I apologise. He thought to himself, flopping himself over the back of the chair, his breath floating out in distracting whisps. The hair on the back of Aziraphale's neck stood up, his features softened in defeat. "I know what you're doing." He said, slapping his lap and turning to face the demon, "you're trying to get me to see that sometimes breaking the rules is a good thing. Well I won't Crowley, not this time."

"Oh come on, I liberated those kids from years of listening to boring teachers who don't know anything." He whispered almost inside Aziraphale's ear, his forked tongue flicking into the air, not quite making contact with the angel's face but it was close enough. Aziraphale melted a little bit.

"Stop trying to tempt me. It's not going to work. I'm still cross with you!" He stropped, turning around to face Crowley and trying to shove him off the back of the armchair. Crowley stood up, his arms folded across his chest, the lapels of his jacket creasing as he took a step back, sulking.


*The near future* The flat above Aziraphale's bookshop, London, Earth 2024

Crowley's tongue was flickering past Aziraphale's ear. His arms around his middle, his lips pressing lightly to the angel's heaven-white temple. "Not going to push me off this time." He teased as the angel shuddered.

"I just wish you wouldn't stand so close to me whilst I'm trying to make macarons, Crowley." He was pushing it now, so he relented, pushing away from his husband and sitting on a clean portion of the counter. He picked an apple out of the fruit bowel and chomped down on it hard. His teeth ripped through the flesh with a harsh crunch. The sound made Aziraphale's head whip round. Did he have to do that? Did he have to sit there and tempt him and look so delicious whilst he did it? The angel thought as he fluttered around the kitchen.

The macarons came out perfect. Aziraphale's face lit up when he saw them, he pulled off his oven gloves and batted Crowley's eager hand away from the desert. "Marvellous," he declared. He'd made sure not to let Crowley's antics distract him from his task, he was determined to teach himself how to bake the proper way. The human way. This was his third attempt overall and his first successful one. He was allowed to be a little proud of himself.

"Can we eat them now?" Crowley whined. For half an hour he had acted all nonchalant and uncaring whether or not the macarons were successful or not. But time was getting on and his stomach was growling like Satan.

"No, now they are cool we still have to put them together." Aziraphale replied, getting up out of his chair and retying the apron around the front of his waistcoat. He smiled to himself as Crowley trawled back to the kitchen with him. He stood on the other side of the counter with his chin on his palm, watching the angel work. Aziraphale was like an artist at work, he was completely silent, completely devoted to the task at hand. His face was an example of excellence. His focus was one hundred percent. Until he looked up and saw Crowley dipping his finger into the bowl raspberry lemon curd he'd made to fill the macarons. His glare was almost enough to make the demon choke, but as their eyes met across the counter, he did the unthinkable. He popped his finger into his mouth and sucked clean the stickiness from his skin. Aziraphale blinked a few times before flicking his eyes back to the macaron he'd been in the middle of filling.

He finished icing all the biscuits, licking his lips as he put down the last one. "All done," he announced.

"About bloody time," Crowley said, reaching across the counter and picking one of the pink and yellow macarons up. He was so delicate with his fingers, without knowing, you wouldn't be able to tell that he was supposed to be one of hell's demons. He stuffed the biscuit into his wanton mouth and devoured it in one bite. "Your finest work." He declared and Aziraphale beamed. He also did that thing where he waved his arms around, like a happy little fairy. Just pleased to be there.