Crowley couldn't quite express what he'd felt when Aziraphale had shown him the sketch. He knew the talent was there, but what he hadn't expected when he flipped through the sketchbook was a naked torso drawing of the man himself. He tried not to react; he wasn't sure if Aziraphale included it so he would see it was no big deal, but after seeing the blond's happy trail, he had a pretty big deal stirring in his pants.

Still, he had been proud of himself that he kept calm while Aziraphale sketched him. He'd been asleep the last time, so he hadn't known how he'd been robbed. How his eyebrows would pull together and his nose would crinkle when he was concentrating. Occasionally, he would blush and stick his tongue out and to the side. Crowley had almost asked once what part he was working on, but he didn't want to embarrass him. The truth was he had been well aware he was naked, but it gave him an opportunity to study the other man unnoticed, and that is where most of his focus went.

After, he'd waited until they were three glasses deep in the wine and their bellies full of lasagna before he asked to see the sketch of himself. He'd never even taken a naked picture before. Guys in the past had asked for them, but when he'd received them unprovoked, he hadn't really understood it. A close-up, detached picture of a dick was frankly weird.

Aziraphale's drawing of him was not that. The whole of him was on display, and while he thought he should feel self-conscious, he couldn't help but think he'd never looked better. Aziraphale seemed to draw with a filter on. But while the apps seemed to hide a person's traits in order to make a uniform ideal, Aziraphale had accentuated the unique parts of him, allowing him to see the beauty in things he'd never really thought of, or actively hated.

It was clear that Aziraphale hadn't just wanted someone naked so he could draw their genitals, although he did a quite good job on those as well. He wouldn't have spent so much time making sure each of Crowley's freckles were in the exact right spot on his body if it wasn't truly for his art. There wouldn't be the detail of how his skin pinched together where he bent along the pillow. His expressive eyes, the ones he had spent so long hiding behind sunglasses so that his emotions wouldn't betray him, didn't look vulnerable; they looked strong and inviting.

Looking at the sketch had made him feel far more naked than when he'd actually been draped over the couch.

~~0~~

Crowley sat in Nina's, his laptop in front of him and a cup of what had been espresso in his hand. He wanted another, but he could feel his leg bouncing already. Applying for jobs was its own job. A job he didn't want and couldn't quit.

Without a word, someone dropped down in the seat across from him. He looked up to find Anathema peering at him with a contemplative look on her face.

"Hello, Anathema. Something on your mind?" He cocked an eyebrow at her.

She tilted her head, and Crowley watched with amusement as she tried to throw him off balance. He didn't dare tell her that she felt like a kitten compared to the lions that had already torn him apart. The unease he'd had when they first met had turned into a more sibling-type relationship.

"You did something."

"I do a lot of things. Care to elaborate?"

"I stopped by on the weekend. Madame Tracy said you went into London. With Alistair Brown." Anathema held a challenge on her face. She clearly thought she knew something, but Crowley couldn't figure out her angle.

"He offered me a ride in, so I could pick up my car. He was going anyway."

"I hope you were safe." She reached over and placed a hand on his arm, when he didn't answer, she continued, "It's a poorly kept secret that Mr. Brown goes into town most weekends …"

Crowley burst out laughing. "Wait, did you think I went into London to shag Alistair?"

"Well, clearly, not anymore." She frowned as she looked at him. "I was so certain something happened. You seem different."

Crowley was still laughing, wiping a tear out from underneath his glasses. "Fuck, Ana. He just gave me a ride. Not even just me; Aziraphale was there too. He had a play he wanted to see."

"Aziraphale went with you?" Her keen focus was back.

"Yes, and before you ask, there wasn't a threesome." Crowley was absolutely delighted at the mistake. He would be able to tease Ana with this for months. Well, closer to a month now. He had really only planned to stay through August.

"Aziraphale was there?"

"Yes, and he didn't go to shag Alistair either." That thought soured his stomach a bit.

"And what about the final combination?"

Crowley rolled his eyes, even though she wouldn't be able to see it. "There was no shagging. Not a single bone was thrown."

"Interesting." She wasn't looking at his face, more around his head. It caused him to shift in his seat. "Carry on then." She stood up and walked out of the shop before Crowley could wonder why she'd stopped by on the weekend in the first place.

He shook his head and closed his laptop; he was pretty much done for the day anyway.

While Crowley could sometimes admit he was bold, he wasn't brave. As much as he thought about Aziraphale, he knew he wasn't about to do anything about it. He wouldn't be asking the man out on a date, or showing up at his house with flowers, no matter how many times he imagined that bright smile on his face if he did. That didn't mean he wouldn't put himself in situations that he might be stumbled upon. With that thought, he'd spent the last three days spending inordinate amounts of time at the pond. The ducks had developed such a Pavlovian response to him that they started shoring up as soon as he made his way into the park. He hated himself every minute for being so pathetic, but he couldn't seem to help himself.

He threw the last handful of peas to the ducks, which he had gone and named. Not all of them, he wasn't insane, but there was one sassy Mallard he named Sherman and a tufted one whose tuft never seemed to be pointing in the right direction. That one he named Edward. Then there was Eloise, and Mable, and good Lord, he was embarrassing.

Had he not been muttering to Edward about being a pushover, he might have heard Aziraphale come up behind him.

"Crowley?"

He didn't jump, but it was a close thing. He did, however, spin around so quickly that he lost footing and stumbled.

"Aziraphale. Hi," he said as he recovered.

"Did I hear you …? Did you name the ducks?"

"Ngk. Not all of them." It came out far too close to a question for Crowley's liking.

Aziraphale's lips curled up in the corners just slightly, but his eyes twinkled bright, the real smile laid there. He cleared his throat. "I haven't seen you around. Now that you have your car, you must be enjoying the exploration."

He didn't dare tell him he hadn't been to many places but this pond, hoping Aziraphale would show up. "Yeah."

"I'm pleased I have bumped into you. I was hoping to invite you over for dinner on Friday."

"Dinner?"

"Yes, I'm inviting Alistair and a few others from art class over for a get-together."

"Like a garden party," Crowley stated, trying not to sound as disappointed as he felt.

"Not quite as formal as the Queen would throw … though I suppose it's the King now, isn't it?"

Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets, or more accurately his fingers, as that was about all the pocket space he had in his trousers. "Sure, sounds fun." Crowely was lying. He hated parties, and he didn't want to share Azirapahle's time with other people. Not when he knew it had an end date.

Aziraphale smiled warmly. "Delightful."

~~0~~

Crowley had always thought it was best to be just as he was. If people didn't like him for who he was at the core, why would he want to waste time with them? Even with the hell he'd been through in the last couple of years, this held true. Right up until he went to get ready for Aziraphale's party. His old life left little room for casualwear, and he'd sold most of his suits, which left him very little variety when dressing. Even less when you considered that everything he owned was a varying shade of black or grey. Still, as he looked at himself in the mirror, black skinny jeans, a short-sleeved black button-up, he wondered if Aziraphale would like what he saw.

It was ridiculous to wonder; after all, the man had seen him naked less than a week ago and made zero indications of wanting to again. He'd been pretty clear about not being into relationships, and he didn't seem to be the one-night type, so that meant Crowley had zero chance for anything. Normally, that would have been fine; Crowley also wasn't up for either of those things. Alas, nothing lasts forever, and the Crowley of his past clearly hadn't known about Aziraphale.

Crowley was a bit tighter on funds after springing the Bentley, and so, he opted to make a dish to bring instead of buying a nice bottle of something. He knew Aziraphale liked lemon; that had been clearly established when he'd thought he hated the man. He couldn't even picture that now when even the thought of the man made him smile. With a recipe he found off Pinterest, he made lemon squares.

Now as he stood holding the tray of them as he walked up the path to Aziraphale's, he felt a little too keen. Normally, he would be a fashionably late kind of guy, but he found himself showing up promptly at six, in case he could get a few minutes alone with Aziraphale before the others showed up. It took all the way up to the door to remember how much people hated guests showing up on time.

He warred with himself, wondering if he should turn around and head back to Tracy's. The sun was still beating down though, and his lemon bars might not make the return trip. Sighing, he lifted his free hand and knocked on the door.

Aziraphale opened the door with a surprised smile. "Crowley." Aziraphale always seemed to breathe out his name when he saw him just as Crowley always sucked in a breath at the sight of Aziraphale. Like they were sharing the air between them. "Are those lemon bars?"

He handed the tray over and followed Aziraphale into the cottage. "Sorry, 'm early."

"You are perfectly on time," Aziraphale said as he deposited the tray into the refrigerator. "No one ever comes to events on time anymore. Why have a start time if you aren't going to be able to start then."

Crowley chuckled. "You're not like anyone I've met." Aziraphale bristled. "In a good way, angel."

"Thank you. I am glad you're here before anyone. I wanted to show you something." Aziraphale grabbed Crowley's hand, causing a short circuit in his brain, and led him to the next room.

The room Aziraphale took him to was a mess. Not a cute mess, full of clutter and knick-knacks. This room looked like an artist studio that had been ransacked. Canvases were strewn across every available surface, drop cloths covered the floor splattered with every colour possible. There were multiple containers of water with brushes sticking out. Crowley didn't want to find it endearing. But it was clearly a personal space and being let into it, no matter its state, made Crowley feel things.

Aziraphale grabbed a large sketchbook with an, "Aha!" He turned back to Crowley and held it out.

Crowley didn't say anything, just took the sketchbook and opened it. It was the drawing of him but more. Gone were any rough lines, and shading had been added. If it weren't in black and white, Crowley would almost think it was a photograph. It was certainly much more detailed than what Aziraphale had done when he'd sketched himself. That could have been years ago, maybe his skills had just improved that much already.

"What do you think?" His voice was nervous but patient.

"This is beautiful. Shit, can I say a picture of me is beautiful? Obviously, it's not me that makes it good. You're good; really, really good."

Aziraphale was looking at him with a softness in his eyes that made Crowley feel like he'd never witnessed true kindness before. "You think so?"

He took a step toward Aziraphale, or Aziraphale might have taken a step toward him. It was equally likely that neither of them moved and the magnetic force between them pulled them together. Crowley was sure he'd never seen a man so beautiful. Aziraphale had an ethereal quality that Crowley would have never looked for in a person before, not believing it could exist, but felt like the only thing worth looking for now. The sweet curve of Azirphale's Cupid's bow called him closer, and he felt helpless to resist.

The room felt charged as Crowley hugged the sketchbook to his chest and found himself leaning in. Aziraphale seemed to sway as he closed his eyes, his lips parting on an exhale. Crowley could feel the other man's breath on his lips, warm and hinting of mint. He shifted to close the last bit of distance, then the doorbell rang, and Aziraphale jumped back.

"I should get that." Aziraphale was breathing like he'd gone for a run. "Just throw that over there and close the door on your way out. I don't let anyone in here, so it will be safe from prying eyes."

Crowley watched Aziraphale rush off, and he looked back down at the picture, but he couldn't focus on anything but the fact that he was standing in the room Aziraphale had said he didn't let anyone into. He closed the book and put it back down on the pile Aziraphale had grabbed it from. As he closed the door on the room, he heard Anathema's voice.

"I heard you went to a play in London last weekend."

"Yes, Crowley and I had a lovely time. The play was excellent."

"Oh, you went to the play with Crowley?" Anathema caught his eye as he came into the room. "Interesting."

The guests all came pretty quickly after that. Crowley subjectively had an okay time. No matter the uncalled for jealousy he had sometimes about Alistair, the truth was they did have a lot of shared interests and he liked the other man. When he'd found out about Crowley's Bentley, he'd nearly begged to come over and see it soon. Crowley promised to take him on a drive as a thank you for the lift into London.

Anathema cornered him a few times in the evening with cryptic comments. He was able to throw her off by asking about some of the other guests, but she always found her way back, hinting about him and Aziraphale. No matter that there was an almost kiss, he didn't really have anything to define what was happening to him, and he wasn't keen on hashing it out with her in the middle of an event.

He didn't really think about his new boss being there, but he liked Sara well enough not to have it be awkward.

What he really wanted was time with Aziraphale, who kept shooting him glances but was constantly in conversation with someone else. Crowley didn't know if the looks were a call for rescue or if he was worried about the awkwardness of the lost moment they shared.

After dinner, he sat on a bench in Aziraphale's garden. The sun was just about down, and the sky was a lovely shade of pink. Crowley had done a once-over of the plants, but now, he was sitting back and watching as Aziraphale took one of his lemon bars. Even across the garden, with people talking, Crowley could hear the moan, followed by Aziraphale's insistence that everyone surrounding him must try one. Crowley caught his eye and smiled, lifting his glass. Aziraphale lifted his in response, and then focused back into his conversation.

Slowly, people began to leave, making Crowley antsy. He wasn't sure if he should wait. Would Aziraphale want to talk or would he be done socialising for the night? It was probably better to come back another day to talk. He followed the last of the guests to the door, letting them shuffle out, and then when he went to follow, Aziraphale put a hand on his chest to stop him. And then he closed the door.

There was a moment in which Crowley prepared for the worst, but it was gone as Aziraphale pressed him up against the door and kissed him. Crowley felt like a fire lit within him. He was hot, and his skin prickled. He'd never had a kiss feel like this; it was water and light and air and everything he would ever need to survive. Aziraphale's lips were soft yet firm, and his hands warm where they rested on Crowley's chest.

As quickly as it started, it stopped.

"Oh, dear. I was going to talk to you first. I seem to have gotten carried away."

"We talk all the time," Crowley countered. Which was more of a wish than a reality. But they'd had their fair share of conversations. And it was more than enough for Crowley to acknowledge that he really liked him.

"That's a valid point." Aziraphale punctuated his statement with another kiss, nibbling on Crowley's bottom lip before wrapping his hands around his waist and guiding them away from the door.

There were a few bumps and missed lips as they bounced off the walls of the corridor on the way to Aziraphale's bedroom. The back of Crowley's heel caught on the door frame, and he stumbled a bit, losing a shoe as he grabbed Aziraphale tighter to keep his balance. Aziraphale's arms held him steady, and Crowley got a good feel at the strength hidden in them. He kicked off his other shoe as he kissed him again, shaking with a need that felt foreign to him.

"I don't normally do this," Aziraphale whispered as Crowley began to undo the buttons of his shirt.

"Do what?" Crowley teased, deflecting at how out of his own depth he felt.

"Any of this. But currently, I was referring to sleeping with someone before I've even had a date with them."

Crowley didn't stop working on the buttons; how were there so many of them? "Technically, you took me to dinner and a play. You paid, that makes it a date. And we have already slept together as well."

The only way to describe the way Aziraphale looked was coquettish. He was all soft glances and shy smiles, but his hands pulled to untuck Crowley's shirt "You are a fiend," Crowley answered with another kiss.

They finished peeling each other's shirts off, and their hands drifted over each other's exposed skin. The kiss slowed, but it was no less intense. Crowley found himself savouring the increased plumpness that the kissing had given to Aziraphale's lips. He could feel the way his breath shuddered as he grazed fingertips along the sides of his ribs. And the new signals his own body was shooting off as Aziraphale brushed soft touches over his clavicles. In the past, he'd had to concentrate to come when someone was giving his dick their full attention, but this simple touch, from this man, was almost his undoing.

They reclined on the bed, Crowley's body draping mostly over Aziraphale, as their kisses journeyed from necks to shoulders. Aziraphale let out the sweetest breathy sigh when Crowley kissed underneath his ear, so he immediately did it again for an encore.

The better Aziraphale made Crowley feel, the more he wanted to reciprocate. He wanted to share this pleasure, to learn each spot that would make the other man tremble, sigh, or cry out. He wanted to hear his name fall out of Aziraphale's lips, heavy with pleasure.

"Crowley." This was not the sound he'd expected. Aziraphale was more trying to get his attention than praise his kisses that were currently overpopulating against the pulse point on his throat.

"Mmm?" He looked up to find a frown on Aziraphale's face, and he pulled back farther to give the man some room.

"I'm afraid I don't have any condoms. I haven't had a sex life in quite some time."

If this was what sex was supposed to feel like, Crowley wasn't sure he'd ever had a sex life. It didn't feel like the right time to get into that though.

"What do you want to do?" he asked.

"I could use my mouth." Crowley's body flushed, liking that idea very much. "Uhm, Alistair does tell me that I am supposed to ask if you're clean."

"I'm so clean the janitor at a hospital wouldn't bother with me." Crowley cringed at his own joke. "And never talk about him when you're in bed with me again." Crowley growled and Aziraphale giggled. He wondered how everything felt so easy with Aziraphale.

Aziraphale licked his lips, and then leaned in and kissed Crowley again. His warm hand rested on Crowley's chest and guided him to lie back on the bed. Crowley felt his heart beat fast as the touch slid down his body slowly, Aziraphale's kiss slow and firm. Crowley felt a shaking hand unbuttoning his trousers.

"You'll tell me what you like?" Aziraphale's voice was soft in a way that made Crowley's chest feel tight.

"I like you."

"No, seriously, Crowley. I find myself very eager in a way I've never experienced, and I want to make this good for you. I need your help."

Crowley hadn't considered that Aziraphale might be having a similar experience to him. He knew that Aziraphale had never had a steady lover, but he'd assumed that he was more into it than Crowley had been. Aziraphale was being so earnest with him, he could only be honest in return. "I'm not waxing poetic, angel. I like you. Kissing you has turned me on more than anything in my entire life. I've never felt this way with anyone … ever."

"Oh, Crowley." Aziraphale looked at him with wide eyes, and then went to work getting his pants off.

Crowley didn't know what to do with his hands. He felt like his bones were replaced with Slinkys. Every move sent a head over heels tumbling sensation in his body. As Aziraphale kissed his stomach, his body decided for him, and he found his fingers running through blond curls. He was so focused on the warm tingling trail his lips left that he barely remembered lifting his hips to take off his pants.

The way that Aziraphale looked at him made his body tremble. He was tentative at first as he took Crowley's cock, but the loud moan that Crowley couldn't bite down seemed to spur him on. He pumped him a few times before sliding his hand to the base and sinking his mouth down over him.

Finally, Crowley got what the fuss was about. His hand tightened, gripping Aziraphale's curls, and arching off the bed. Aziraphale gagged a little around him, and he looked down at him apologetically. But Aziraphale didn't look upset. He looked at him like he was one of those dishes at The Ritz, something he wanted and was planning on savouring to its fullest.

Crowley was sure he wouldn't last long, not with Aziraphale bobbing up and down, sucking him like he was a thick milkshake he wanted a taste of. It felt like there was pure magic under his skin. When he closed his eyes, it wasn't hard to imagine that Aziraphale was under his skin, finding each nerve in his body and sparking it to life. A whimper and a weak tug on Aziraphale's hair was all the warning he was able to give as his body was overtaken with his orgasm. He heard the other man sputter a little as he swallowed him down, and then the caress of a soft cheek against his thigh made him open his eyes. Aziraphale looked up at him with a shy smile.

"Was that all right?"

"That'sss the best orgasm of my life," Crowley slurred.

"You were with your partner for years, someone who knew you and your body; I highly doubt my out-of-practice mouth was better. You are sweet for saying so." His smile didn't quite reach his eyes, and Crowley could tell there was worry in them.

"I'm not saying this for your ego. I've … it's never been like that for me. I wasn't even sure I liked sex before." His voice was quiet. It's not something he'd said to many people and certainly not when he was in bed with them.

Aziraphale's eyes softened and he moved up beside him, placing his hand on his cheek. "Can I kiss you?"

"I'm pretty sure you can do whatever you want to me." The words should have shaken him, but he had never felt safer.

When Aziraphale's lips touched his, the fire stoked back to life, and Crowley quickly found himself with a handful of angel.