Crowley finished his few hours at the law office. He hadn't done his own paperwork in years, but it was like riding a bike. He was easily able to catch up with the load on Sara's desk, and she had been overly thankful for his help. It was monotonous work, but it was familiar, and he was able to do it without much effort. He had an hour before he needed to meet up with Ms. Zuigiber, to begin work on her garden, so he decided to go back to his aunt's for lunch.

Tracy was bustling in the kitchen when he got home.

"Crowley, is that you? I just put some soup on. Would you like some?"

"Yep, just going to change first." He walked into his bedroom. The boxes that he'd brought with him were still stacked up against the far wall. He'd unpacked very little but his clothing and toiletries. He hadn't needed much else. He probably didn't even need half the things that were in those boxes. Old mementos that didn't mean a lot to him, but they had been all he'd had left, so he'd packed them up and shoved them in his mum's car on the way out of town.

After shrugging on some gardening clothes, he went to have lunch with his aunt.

"How are you doing, love?"

Crowley smiled when he thought about it. "I'm doing good. I think this is exactly what I've been needing."

"Mmmhmmm." The knowing tone caught Crowley off guard. "And how was Mr. Fell doing this morning?"

He assumed his aunt had noticed he'd not been coming home at night, but he hadn't figured she would have connected the dots quite so quickly. Still, he wasn't about to let her ruffle him. Not in a way that would show on the outside anyway.

"He seemed very happy this morning."

Crowley smiled as Tracy lifted her glass and replied, "Cheers to that. But don't you go breaking my art teacher's heart; I don't want to spend the fall months painting wilting flowers and rain clouds."

"It's nothing as serious as that," he said, waving it away. He didn't really believe it, but it was one thing feeling a bit of vulnerability, he wasn't ready to show it to everyone.

Tracy studied him with that knowing look of hers. The one that she used to stare at people long enough 'til they let their secrets spill all over their faces. Crowley wasn't an amateur; that trick hadn't worked on him since he was seven. They played their game of chicken, and Crowley internally celebrated when she looked away first.

"He could do a lot worse than you," she said finally.

Crowley heard it for the sweet sentiment it was. "Thanks, auntie."

~~0~~

Carmine Zuigiber was a precise and stern woman. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and she dressed in a full light grey pantsuit. She looked like she belonged in the city and not in a small town like Tadfield. She had a dangerous look about her, but that could have been solely from her beauty. While she had exact ideas about her garden, she was happy to express them, and then leave Crowley to it.

It was going to be the biggest job he'd been hired for. The other few he'd taken had just been general weeding and some lawn mowing. Carmine wanted an overhaul. The pansies and foxgloves were to be ripped out with roses and dahlias to replace them. She also wanted a reshaping of the garden and some edging put in. The result would be a harsh and clean-looking garden, something that would suit its owner. Today was not for planting though; today would be pulling out the old plants and weeds and prep the soil.

Crowley found the time passed quickly as he worked in the garden. The feel of the soil between his fingers centred him; it was a calm he'd never felt working in law. He was making the world a little bit better, something he didn't feel he did as a lawyer. He knew that wasn't entirely true, but law had stripped so much of him that it had never felt like a net good.

Getting paid for something he enjoyed this much made him feel a bit giddy. His hourly rate was much smaller than the one he garnished in the city, but he supposed the cost of living in Tadfield was much smaller than London. He wondered if he could have a similar quality of life he was used to in a small town on a smaller salary. He didn't need the bells and whistles he'd had in the city. Crowley was happy with just a small space for himself, some place he could sit at the end of the day and relax. He'd never thought about sharing a place, it had been years since he'd had roommates, but the thought of someone waiting for him when he came home floated into his mind. And if that someone had white blond hair and a smile that lit up the room, well that was between Crowley and his imagination. He would look at realty listings and see, just to compare. He had assumed he would go back to London, but there were other options. He should check into them.

Crowley packed up his things, noticing it was almost half seven. He felt a twinge in his back as he put the borrowed tools back in the shed. He'd been wistfully dreaming of a new life, but the truth of his body hit him. He wasn't in great shape, and he was getting older. Was this really something he could do for the long term? Putting all his money into the company that betrayed him had meant there was no retirement fund. Whatever he chose to do, he needed to be sure he could do it forever.

He felt better after a warm shower, his muscles relaxing a bit. He was likely to be sore in the morning, but he would be in Aziraphale's arms, and that was enough to put a pep into his step. He checked his messages as he packed his overnight bag. There was one from Aziraphale, asking how his day went and when to expect him. He sent back a quick response, letting him know he would be leaving shortly.

Then he opened his email. Sitting below a few junk messages was an email from one of the law firms he'd sent in an application for. He hadn't really expected any of them to respond. Not sure where else to look, he'd started there before figuring out where he could branch his skills in relation to other opportunities. His morbid curiosity made him open the email, wanting to see the rejection.

Mr. Crowley,

We have received your application in regards to the solicitor position. We would like to schedule a phone interview with you at your earliest convenience to discuss. If from there we wish to move forward, we would like you to come into the office for a formal interview.

Please reply directly to this email or call the number at the bottom to set up this appointment. We are greatly impressed with your level of experience and hope to hear from you soon.

Jeremy Wensleydale

Assistant for D. Tennant, Esquire

Sheen & Tennant Law Offices

Damn. That was not what Crowley had expected. There was a bit of a thrill; it was always good to be wanted. He didn't know much about the company, only that it was small but had a solid case load. They had a couple higher profile cases, but it wasn't the regular thing for them. He wasn't sure if they hadn't googled him or if they did and they were too small to worry about him scaring off clients. Not that he should in theory, but it was clear that a lot of the big players weren't going to trust him. High profile clients would know about him and wouldn't want to touch him with a ten-foot pole. Reputation was everything, and his ex-partners had trampled all over his.

This would probably turn out to be nothing, but Crowley shot an email back, giving them some times he could have the call. Then he shoved his mobile in his pocket and promptly forgot about it. His priority for the evening was not a job but the beautiful man down the road.

Crowley opted for the ten-minute walk; as much as he loved to drive his Bentley, he didn't love the way she guzzled petrol. Of course, halfway there, the skies opened up, and an unpredicted summer storm rained down on his head. By the time he reached Aziraphale's door, he was thoroughly soaked.

Aziraphale opened the door to him, took in his state, and quickly ushered him in, wrapping him with a ridiculous amount of towels.

"Why do you even own this many towels?"

"You think I don't have weary, wet travellers often?" There was nothing subtle about the way Aziraphale flirted. His eyes twinkled, and he often would do a little wiggle. Crowley was instantly charmed by it.

Even covered with multiple fluffy towels, Crowley began to shiver as the wetness made it to his skin. Aziraphale kissed his lips gently, and then sent him to change in the bedroom. Crowley had brought a change of clothes for the next day, but he wished he had something to pull up over his cold damp legs other than another pair of jeans.

Crowley had the blasted things halfway up his thighs when Aziraphale came in holding a cup of hot chocolate. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, the heat replacing the cold.

"Having problems?" Aziraphale's eyes dragged down his body, and he felt like he was being studied again. He was looking at him the same way he was when he drew him.

"Not so easy to pull up over damp skin," Crowley said with a bit of a shrug.

"Just leave them off then."

Aziraphale abandoned the mug on the nearest surface and crowded up against Crowley. There wasn't much balance to be had with your knees tied together with a pair of skinny jeans, so without much effort, Crowley found himself toppled back onto the bed.

His legs lifted, and Aziraphale tugged the jeans back off. The blond's warm hands felt like fire against his chilled body. He couldn't wait to feel them everywhere. He helped as he was systematically stripped down, and he couldn't help but think that he'd not really had a good chance at seeing the other man naked.

"You're like ice, Crowley," Aziraphale said, worry seeping in.

"Fastest way to heat up is skin to skin, angel."

Crowley used his toes to take off his socks, letting them fall. Aziraphale had already taken his shirt, leaving him in just his pants, but they were wet too, and he happily rid himself of those as well.

Aziraphale looked at him again, making Crowley tingle with anticipation. He'd been looked at before by people who wanted him. He had liked the feeling but not the expectations that came after, but now he was on board for the whole ride. He wanted the touches that followed the looks. It made the experience far sharper than he'd had before.

There was a bit of worry in Azirphale's face that was quickly covered by determination as he started to peel off his own clothes. Crowley was amazed at how many layers the man wore in the summer; he must be warm all the time. Right now, that warmth called out to him; he couldn't be more grateful to the clothing that was holding onto that warmth until Crowley could be wrapped in it.

"You're gorgeous," Crowley whispered in awe when Aziraphale finally stood before him naked. A sturdy chest and strong arms, thick thighs covered in hair that looked downy soft. A Greek statue come to life. But beyond that, he looked safe. A person Crowley could retreat to; he knew it deep in his soul.

"I am so out of my depth with you," Aziraphale admitted as he climbed onto the bed and took Crowley into his arms. "But it doesn't feel like drowning; you feel like a life raft."

Crowley pressed his lips to Aziraphale because what could he possibly say to that. Words would never be able to express as much as he could with his touch. His fingers were reverent as he touched along the sloping planes of Aziraphale's chest. Aziraphale yelped, and then giggled from the coolness of them, but then grabbed his hand and put it right back when he tried to pull away. Aziraphale folded the blanket over them, covering up to their waists. Aziraphale touched him like an artist, slow and exploratory, as if he were learning the feel of him to be able to sculpt later. Crowley had never felt such sure, strong fingers. He wanted to feel them everywhere—in his hair, along his jaw, opening him up. A long, low moan left his throat, unable to stop it from the image conjured in his mind.

"The sounds you make are music," Aziraphale whispered softly against his skin.

Crowley's skin itched in a way he couldn't put words to. "I don't know what to do with all these feelings," he admitted.

"Whatever you want, darling. We are figuring this out together."

Crowley couldn't help but think about the sound Aziraphale had made when he bit into his lemon square, and he wanted nothing more than to hear it again, up close. He caressed down over Aziraphale's hip, sliding it over that supple ass. They moaned together this time as he gave it a generous squeeze.

"Tell me what you want me to do, angel." There was a brokenness in his voice that caused Aziraphale to whimper.

Crowley knew Aziraphale hadn't had a lot of experience either, so it may have been an unfair thing, but Crowley needed direction. He felt himself drifting off into doubts and worries. It had been so long, holding himself together, fighting to survive. All he wanted to do was let go, knowing that Aziraphale would catch him.

Aziraphale nodded but asked one question, "Do you have a preference?"

Crowley held back his immediate response; he usually said top. He hadn't really cared either way, but he usually picked top if he had his way because it had required less of his body. But he thought about Aziraphale's fingers and how he wanted to feel them.

"Bottom. I'm open to both, but …" Aziraphale cut him off with a kiss, not needing any caveats.

Crowley went to roll over, but Aziraphale stopped him, keeping them on their sides. "Not yet," he whispered, and the promise in his voice made Crowley's whole body shiver.

There had been times that Crowley thought that sex was torture, in the same way a monotonous day could be, but even just kissing Aziraphlae was torture in a completely different way. A glorious dismantlement of every part of him he thought he knew. It was intense but not nearly as scary as he'd thought it would be.

He kissed Crowley with such passion it ignited fireworks within him. He touched and kissed everywhere but where Crowley wanted it the most. He marked his lips and jaw with kisses until Crowley's body was soft and pliant. Crowley remembered he left the condoms and lube on Aziraphale's nightstand from last time, but he hadn't thought about them until he heard the popping of the cap. Crowley braced himself for the cool touch of the lube, but it didn't come. Aziraphale kept kissing him, sucking softly on his bottom lip.

Once his body started to relax again, he felt the warm wetness of Aziraphale's fingers along his crack. He'd taken the time to rub the lubrication in his fingers until it was warm. This tiny bit of care made Crowley tear up; luckily, his eyes were still closed from the kissing. Feeling the tip of a finger gently circling his rim drove him crazy, his body malleable but demanding.

When the finger stopped, he opened his eyes to look at Aziraphale. Calm, loving blue eyes looked back at him as the finger finally breached him. Crowley's cock twitched as he felt the intrusion. Nothing had ever felt like this; he opened and closed his mouth a few times, wanting to tell Aziraphale. Wanting him to understand when he himself didn't fully grasp it.

In the end, the only thing he could say was, "More."

Aziraphale worked him open, adjusting the speed and depth with each microexpression Crowley made. Crowley had never felt more seen or more cared for, and it made his desire spike even further. When he was finally writhing on three fingers and whimpering for more, Aziraphale finally let him roll over.

He'd rolled, shoved his face in the pillow, and lifted his hips up just off the bed. He shook in anticipation, but Aziraphale didn't enter him. Instead, there were large hands cupping and squeezing his ass, parting his cheeks, stretching open his hole even more.

"Ngk …"

"Crowley," Aziraphale said, his voice like he was praying.

Crowley pushed his arse higher in the air, and Aziraphale took the hint this time. There was a rustle of the condom box, another pop of the lube, and then the thick head of Azirphale's cock was at his entrance. His thighs trembled as he steadied himself. The push in was slow but not teasingly. Aziraphale gave his body just the right amount of time to adjust to him, like he knew Crowley's body like his own. Like he was his.

"Oh, fuck," Crowley moaned.

Aziraphale's hands slid so softly and gently along his hips, and then they grasped, and he began to move. Every bit of strength that Crowley had been admiring was put to use. He wished he could see, to watch, how Aziraphale took him apart, but he couldn't do much but bite into the pillow and moan as he shed off everything he thought he knew about himself.

His cock swung, bouncing off his stomach as Aziraphale sped up behind him. The urgency of his partner made his own need come forward. As if he had said the thought aloud, Aziraphale wrapped his hand around his cock and began to stroke in time with his thrusts.

The sound Aziraphale made as he reached his climax shot through Crowley like a lightning bolt, and he came hard over Aziraphale's hand.

Crowley could feel the shake in Aziraphale's body as he started to come down. Crowley shifted so there was room for them to lay down. Aziraphale grabbed one of the towels Crowley had been using earlier and laid it over the wet spot.

"Bet you like all my towels now," Aziraphale said, snuggling Crowley back up against his chest. A place that was quickly becoming his favourite.

"I like you," Crowley said softly. The warm feeling inside him lingering in his chest.

Aziraphale smiled, his face still flushed from his pleasure and his lips swollen from their kissing. He was far too beautiful to be real.

"I like you too."

Crowley kissed Aziraphale's chin, and then settled his head back on his chest. He didn't think anything could burst the bubble of happiness he felt right now. It had been a long time since he'd felt any sort of happiness or safety, and he'd never felt it quite like this. He shouldn't have been surprised when his brain tried to sabotage it right before he fell asleep.

It reminded him of the job interview that meant moving back to London was a real possibility.