Chapter Text
voice message, November 24th
“Uh, hi Mister Fell. My name's Crowley, I'm erm… I'm Nina's best man. Nina Sosanya, I mean, you're taking care of her wedding. Which you probably know… fuck, sorry, I really don't like leaving messages.
“Anyway, I'm the best man and this is my direct number. I work in France so I won't be around to help out much, but I hope we can be in touch to get this thing ready. You erm… you can call me back, if you want. Bye.”
voice message, January 3rd
“Hi Aziraphale! Crowley here. Happy new year, I guess. Sorry again I couldn't stay for this week's meeting, I'm starting to think we'll only meet the day of the wedding!
“I just wanted to give you my thoughts on the venue, so maybe call me back? I just really love that place you found. Guess that kinda spoils what I wanted to say to you, but call me back anyway. We'll chat. Erm… okay, bye.”
voice message, February 16th
“Hey Aziraphale! How are you? I'm sure Nina told you but I'm hosting her hen at the vineyard, and I'm planning on having her guess the wine we chose for the wedding. I'm gonna send you sample bottles, so you can try them out and tell me which ones you like best. I know you told me to choose but I think it'd be fun to test them out together? Well, not together together, but you know. On the phone. Just to hear your reactions about it. Let me know. Bye.”
voice message, April 23rd
“Hi angel, what's up? Just wanted to say, that book. Fuck, I wasn't expecting that ending. FUCK! Call me back. I need to talk about it, I'm buzzing. Literally.”
voice message, April 25th
“Hey angel. For someone working in events planning, you really don't answer your phone much… So anyway, I was thinking… erm… So yeah, we've been talking a lot lately… and uh I've been— I've been meaning to tell y— I mean I wanted to say… no, you know what never mind. Talk to you later, ta.”
voice message, May 17th
“Hi 'ngel, it's me. Crowley. Yep. Oh fuck, sorry. Eeeeerm so y'must be asleep. Jus' wanted t'call you an' hear your voice, y'know? The girls are here, we had jus' the bessst night an' we finished all the wine. Well not aaaall the wine, of course, but y'know. Fuck it'd be neat if you were here, right? I mean I could open one of those barrels an' we'd drink straight from 'em, right? And there's cake. You could eat cake. An' I could w- watch. My point is… my point is… uh… my p—”
“Crowley? Who are you calling at 4 in the morning?”
“No one.”
voice message, May 23rd
“Hey angel. That's it! Big day! I'm at the airport, I'll be in London at around 10 am. As we said, I'll pick up the car at my uncle's and bring it to the venue right away. So I guess I'll meet you there? Fuck… I can't believe we did all those preparations over the phone and never met, can you imagine? I erm… I gotta say, I'm quite excited. For the weekend I mean. You did an amazing job, Nina and Maggie are going to be over the moon.
“Anyway, I erm… I'm looking forward to seeing you. Also, good morning, if you just woke up. See ya in… 4 hours.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Aziraphale locked his phone, a smile hovering on his lips. He'd been listening to that last message from Crowley for the third time already.
The first one just after waking up, as he prepared his tea, the nape of his neck pleasantly tickling as he recognised the now familiar voice. The second time, he would argue he didn't mean to listen to it again, but his phone had connected to his car and automatically played it. He'd done nothing to stop it.
And now, the third time, was very much on purpose.
Listening to Crowley's voice helped him calm down. His little nervous chuckles, his drawling vowels, his casual compliments… He felt like a complete idiot, of course, having fallen heads over heels in love with a man he had never met, barely even seen, actually. The only time they had tried adding video to their calls, Crowley's internet connection had been so terrible that he was just a bunch of blurry, glitchy pixels on Aziraphale's screen. They'd still emptied almost three bottles of wine each that night, under the pretext of tasting it for the wedding. They'd ended up laughing and chatting about whales and other incoherent subjects until 4am. Crowley had called him angel for the first time that night, in reference to the visual of his website. Made his heart flutter for the first time, too.
For the last three months, Aziraphale's heart had seemed to perform all sorts of dangerous stunts every time his phone rang. A wide smile would tug at the corner of his lips every time he saw the man's name on his screen, and for the first time in forever, he was actually sad to see the day of the wedding arrive. Because it meant he would have no more excuses to call him. No more reasons to spend an hour on the phone arguing over reception menu and animations. Their opinions, on every single matter, always seemed to differ, but their friendly banter was the most interesting kind of conversation Aziraphale had ever had with anyone. Crowley had an opinion about everything, from flowers to music, from dancing to decoration, but he always found a way to show Aziraphale he valued his own; he was clever and educated, but made him feel like the most cultivated man in the world. He was funny, and kind, and oh, how Aziraphale was going to miss him after this weekend.
The man shook his head, pushing away the thought. The weekend had barely started, Crowley wasn't even here yet. He would have all the time in the world to freak out when the meeting he was dreaming about these days would actually happen.
For now, he needed to get back to work.
Aziraphale took a deep breath in, and went back outside, immediately fitting right back into his role as he guided the workers. From the tables to the lights, from the dancefloor to the kitchen, he had to take care of everything. It was a big wedding, with over 200 guests, and the brides were already under stress, which meant Aziraphale was under stress.
Maggie, bride number one, was an absolute sweetheart. She had been picky about the music, but apart from that, she had been open about everything Aziraphale had to offer. Nina, bride number two, and Crowley's best friend since kindergarten apparently — although he appeared in none of the photos from her childhood — was way more complicated. She was anxious, bossy, and the way she talked to Aziraphale when she was stressed always made him want to take a minute in the bathroom to cry for a bit. Crowley had been soothing their relationship from the get go, explaining over and over that this was just the way she was and that she didn't mean to hurt him, asking her to tone it down whenever she crossed a line in the group chat they shared and promising him that she actually loved his ideas.
Aziraphale dreaded today because of it, and was actually relishing the last few hours before Nina and Maggie would arrive at the venue for rehearsal day. He glanced at his watch and felt his heart flutter with anticipation. It was 11:23, which meant Crowley had probably already picked up his uncle's vintage Bentley and was on his way here.
He'd barely had the time to get back to work after that very happy thought, fixing the arrangements around the arch, that the gravel crunched under the weight of tires, the sleek black car shining under the sun as it parked in the middle of the alley.
Aziraphale had expected flaming red hair, that was easy to spot even in their blurry video call — and Crowley actually had an Instagram account that he had visited out of curiosity, finding very few pictures of the man in it, always edited so his face wasn't visible. He'd expected — hoped, foolish as he was — handsome.
What he had not expected was everything else. He had not expected the lean, tall silhouette unfolding from the seat of the car, the sharp cheekbones and raspy jaw, the delicate features half hidden behind sunglasses. Even less had he expected, the sensual, swaying gait as the man approached, the wave of his impossibly long fingers and the devilish smile animating his lips as he said his name as a greeting.
“Aziraphale!”
His voice, he knew well enough. Crowley's voice was keeping him up at night. He would sometimes, when he couldn't sleep, take his phone from the nightstand and listen to old voice messages. It wouldn't help him sleep, far from there. On the contrary, it would fill his mind with wild fantasies he'd regret in the morning, promising himself he would delete the messages.
His eyes went up and down on the man's dark clothed body, blinded by the sun on his back, and before he could say anything, Crowley was next to him, opening his arms and laughing.
“Finally!” the man exclaimed, his smile turning wide and bright and his cheeks getting covered in a very fetching shade of pink. “Seven months! How silly is that?”
Aziraphale chuckled in return, interrupted in shock as hands dropped on the side of his arms, Crowley's face coming closer. He froze, letting him press one cheek against his own, lips grazing his skin with a pecking sound, and then the other.
And then it was Crowley's turn to freeze, hands still on Aziraphale's arms, face bright red and lips parted in horror.
“I'm so sorry!” he uttered. “I'm so used to French manners now, but this is so rude, we barely know each other!”
The colour of his face, almost matching his hair, and his genuine concern helped Aziraphale snap out of his confused state, and he laughed it off, his own fingers grazing the man's elbows.
“What are you talking about? We've been chatting for the last seven months, I believe we're acquainted enough for the French!”
To his relief, any and every sign of worry left Crowley's features and he laughed along, nodding. His hands finally left Aziraphale's arms, burning by their absence, as he lifted his sunglasses to rub his eyes. The wedding planner barely caught a glimpse of the man's amber irises before the shades were back into place.
“Sorry, yeah, you're right,” Crowley said in a chuckle. “I've been up for way too long, my brain will be more efficient after a coffee, if you have some.”
“Absolutely! I'll show you the kitchen!”
Aziraphale led the way inside the venue, Crowley on his heels, slaloming between tables.
“It's coming along nicely,” the red-head remarked with a whistle.
“Yes, I'm hoping we can have the tables finished in a couple of hours.”
“Hm. Walk me through the schedule?”
Aziraphale took out a mug from one of the cupboards and poured a cup of coffee he handed to Crowley. For a brief second, the man's long fingers covered Aziraphale's plumper ones. Looking up, the wedding planner caught the slight blush on his face as the contact broke. He couldn't resist a small smile and decided to hide it by taking out his schedule, perching small round glasses on the top of his nose.
“Alright. I'm hoping we can have the basics of the indoor decoration set up before lunch,” he started, glancing at Crowley who was leaning on one of the counters, looking so effortlessly handsome Aziraphale almost stuttered. “Nina and Maggie will join us by 2pm and will probably have things to change.”
“Nina will,” Crowley interrupted, snorting.
“Quite right.”
Aziraphale couldn't control the slight tremor in his hands, and had to force back a smile on his face. He was good at forcing smiles. He was used to it, when stress overcame him, as his job demanded that he remained bubbly and positive in front of his clients, especially in the heat of the worst moments. Crowley for one, seemed to see right through him. He straightened his posture and reached a hand to his shoulder, his thumb rubbing on the fabric of his jacket.
“Hey, it's perfect, alright? She'll love it.”
Aziraphale inhaled deeply, his heart swelling with fondness and gratitude. Dear lord, he wasn't just in love with Crowley's voice. He was in love with his kindness and with the way he so effortlessly understood him. With the way he made him feel about himself. How rare was that, after seven months of only talking over the phone? And how silly was he for letting it fill and warm his heart when he knew they had no reason to stay in touch after Saturday night?
Instantly relaxing by the warm touch on his shoulder, Aziraphale smiled at him, letting his eyes feast on every little detail of the man's skin — the freckles on his cheeks, the shadow of his stubbly beard, the crow's feet wrinkling the corner of his eyes. The dart of a pink tongue on his lips made him want to sway closer, to put his hand on that slender waist, feel how perfectly it would fit in his palm, but that thought was stolen away by Crowley bringing his mug to his mouth, fogging his sunglasses.
“Shit,” he swore in a grumble, taking them away to sliding one arm into his collar.
Aziraphale's breath hitched in his throat as their eyes met without obstacles. Crowley had told him during a casual conversation, about the deformation in his irises, both of his pupils looking like they had melted down, giving him the strangest gaze. Coupled to the light brown of his eyes, it looked like melted gold.
A bright red took over the man's face, and he hastily put his mug down on the counter, reaching back for his sunglasses as he mumbled, “Fuck, sorry…”
Aziraphale stopped him, his hand grabbing his wrist, holding him in place.
“You don't think I'd want you to hide them, do you?”
Crowley shrugged, still looking down. “I erm— I'm used to it. People get grossed out, so I usually keep my sunglasses on.”
“Grossed out?" Aziraphale cried, outraged. "First, how dare anyone give their opinion about such a thing?”
The man chuckle, relaxing again, and looked up coyly, one of his eyebrows raising on his forehead. “Second?”
Aziraphale felt himself blush, his hand slightly shaking on the man's wrist but still holding him quite firmly.
“Secondly, I think they are beautiful,” he stated, quite proud of how steady his voice sounded.
The man's grin turned cheeky, creasing a dimple in his cheek. “Is that your opinion?”
Aziraphale gasped in horror, but it turned into a chuckle and a swat on the man's arm as Crowley started laughing at him. He put a little distance between them, shooting him a playfully accusing glare before he went back to his road map.
“Anyway,” he said pointedly, making Crowley chuckle again. “I have the caterers arriving at three, so we have to be out of here before that. I'll need you to test the sound on the stage outside, Nina told me you play?”
“Hmhm,” Crowley acquiesced. “I'll plug my own guitar to test it, but the band will have to redo their balance tomorrow.”
“Of course. Once the close family and friends get here for the rehearsal, we'll need to show them their rooms, especially for those sleeping here already tonight. Rehearsal for the ceremony will start at 5.”
As he explained, they left the kitchen to walk back outside, where the dance floor had been set up under a large marquee. They walked to the wooden bandstand, where the ceremony was going to take place.
“We need to decorate all the chairs today,” he went on, catching the glimpse of horror on Crowley's face at the sight of 200 chairs to install, “I'll add the flowers tomorrow morning, here and inside. Are you alright?”
“Wh- yeah! It's just… it's a lot!”
Aziraphale huffed a little laugh. “It is, yes. Do you want to find your room while I get back to work? You must be exhausted.”
“I'm fine, but I'm going to put my suitcase there anyway. You know, so the girls don't leave with all my stuff tonight.”
“Of course.”
Aziraphale accompanied him back to his car, watching him open the trunk and take out his guitar and suitcase. The man skirted around the car, opening the back door to take a garment bag. His instrument on his shoulder, his case in hand, he groaned, fumbling to keep everything in balance.
“Let me help,” Aziraphale offered, dashing to close the car door and take the suitcase out of the man's hand.
“Thanks.”
They walked quietly to the second building, where the rooms were, until they found the door with Crowley's name on it. Aziraphale put the suitcase down and stayed at the door while the man took a few steps in.
“I'll erm— I'll freshen up a bit, alright?” Crowley said, turning to him with a smile. “I'll be out there helping you in a moment.”
“Of course, take your time, dear. I'll get back to it now.”
The next couple of hours passed in a blur. Aziraphale managed to focus on his work, and with Crowley and his employees' help, the dinning room was ready by the time the future brides arrived. Aziraphale anxiously watched them walk in, taking in the placement of the tables and their decoration.
“Fresh flowers will be added tomorrow,” he hastily announced, “and I still have some work to do once the caterers finish setting up.”
Before Nina could say anything snappy at him, Crowley walked in the room from the kitchen, effectively diverting her attention as he rushed to her and hugged her, lifting her off the ground. She yelped, swatting his shoulders until he put her down.
Aziraphale felt his heart flutter with fondness at the scene, and only schooled the sappy expression on his face when he met Maggie's eyes and her amused smile.
“What do you think?” Crowley asked, gesturing around after he had greeted both women. “Isn't it already gorgeous?”
And for that, Aziraphale wanted to wrap him in the tightest hug. By taking charge of the tour, he spared him from his friend's remarks and allowed him to get back to work more quickly. He did it on purpose too, if the wink he gave him was any kind of indication.
The entire afternoon was spent hunched over the ceremony's chairs, that had to be decorated and placed in front of the bandstand. Aziraphale took a break when the caterer's crew arrived, guiding them to the kitchen and leaving them to finish the work in the dinning room before he came back outside. As the day passed, more guests arrived for the rehearsal, all happy to lend a hand in the last of the preparation under Aziraphale's instruction. They were only a small fraction of the 200 people expected for the actual wedding the day after, only the people they needed for the rehearsal, but their presence made the amount of work much more manageable, and allowed Aziraphale to focus on the details. He rectified the decoration inside the dinning room, now that the tables were set, spent a moment with the catering team to go over the Saturday schedule for both the cocktail and the dinner party, and even took a minute to watch Crowley as the man plugged his guitar into the sound system outside and checked that everything worked correctly.
The man spotted him, and offered him a wide smile as he lifted his bright red electric guitar, wrapping the strap around his shoulders. His grin turned wicked as he placed his hands and played a loud chord, making Aziraphale wince.
“It's working!” he announced childishly.
“I can hear that splendidly,” Aziraphale retorted, his hands leaving his ears.
“Bit too loud for you, maybe?”
“Just a tad.”
“How d'you know that's not just the way I play?”
Before Aziraphale could answer, Crowley played again, a much softer melody, his long hands running on the neck of the instrument.
“Are you going to need equipment for the ceremony?” the wedding planner asked as soon as Crowley stopped and came to sit on the edge of the stage.
“No, I have what I need, thanks. Are you okay?”
Aziraphale gave him an interrogative glance, meeting his own, dishevelled reflection in the man's sunglasses. He chuckled, running his hands in his blond curls, knowing how wild they must look.
“I'm just fine. I'm happy we're almost done with the preparation. Can you help me gather everyone for the rehearsal after you're done here?”
“Yeah, sure.”
A wedding ceremony, Aziraphale had learned through years and years of experience, was all about timing. It had to be paced, to keep the audience involved, and alternate between emotion and laughter. That last part wasn't completely up to him, some parties were desperately dull, no matter how much good will he put into the planning, while others had a few natural speakers who knew exactly how to keep a crowd's attention.
Crowley, of course, seemed to be one of them.
Once everybody was seated, Aziraphale took the microphone the man gave him to introduce himself and explain the course of the rehearsal.
“We're of course not going to go through your speeches, you normally should have timed yourself accordingly—”
“Really?” Crowley interrupted. “Damn, I erm— I was going to do a bit of improv'.”
“You what?” Aziraphale asked, his voice as white as his face.
The man's features changed from clueless to joyful as he let out a loud cackle, gaining the same result from his audience.
“No, I'm shitting you, angel! Of course I timed myself! Clockwork, me.”
Aziraphale's heart might as well have jumped off of a bridge with the loop it did in his chest at the endearment, given so freely in front of a crowd of thirty strangers. He barely registered the man's face colouring slightly before he turned back to his sheet of paper and stuttered through the rest of his presentation.
They ran the ceremony a few times, mostly to allow Crowley to correctly time the music he was playing on a small amp, and as the day was coming to an end, the guests pulled a few garden tables on the dancefloor area to sit around and chat. A dozen of them were planned to stay the night, Crowley included, but the brides would of course only arrive in the early afternoon on Saturday, driven by Nina's father in Crowley's Bentley. Still, almost everyone seemed ready to stay for an improvised picnic.
“Are you eating with us, Mister Fell?” Maggie asked, gesturing him to join.
Aziraphale dithered. He had quite a drive to get back to London after that, and had to be at 7 at Covent Gardens to get the flowers the following morning. His eyes surveyed the garden, the fairy lights giving the place an enchanting look as the sun was setting, and landed on Crowley. The man was chatting with Nina and her cousin, roaring with laughter with his head thrown back, looking positively gorgeous under the dimming light. He looked his way and smiled at him, bright and wide, and Aziraphale felt a pleasant rush of warmth travelling his body.
His attention went back to Maggie, who was waiting for his answer. He nodded, smiling softly.
“I could stay and eat, yes.”
He'd barely chosen himself a seat, shyly sitting down near Maggie's sister, with whom he'd had an interesting conversation during the afternoon, when the ginger pulled the chair next to him and sat down, draping himself over his seat like he was half made of liquid.
“Everything ready for tomorrow then?”
Aziraphale nodded, smiling easily. “Thanks to your help, my dear.”
He wanted to reach out for the man's hand and just give it a tiny squeeze of acknowledgement, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to let go if he did.
“It's alright, angel,” Crowley whispered back. “Anything you need.”
“Wh- when are you flying back?”
Aziraphale wasn't certain he wanted to know the answer to this question. Not that the exact date would change anything, anyway.
“Monday morning,” the man answered with a wince. “I have to take the train back to Bordeaux after that so that's another full day in transports. I'm gonna be knackered.”
“Couldn't you stay in England for a bit?”
“Nah, I have a bank appointment on Tuesday. For the acquisition, you know?”
Was it weird that he knew, indeed? Thinking back on years doing this job, never before had Aziraphale known so much about a wedding's guest, or even a future wedded. But he knew that Crowley was currently trying to buy the vineyard he was working in as his boss was retiring; he knew that he was mostly estranged from his father, but that he was still very close with his mum and her brother from whom he had borrowed the Bentley; he knew bits and nips about him, from his dream vacation place to his favourite kind of movies. Things he'd learned when their formal, wedding related, ten minutes calls had turned into hour long conversations about their personal lives.
That easy chatter came back to them quickly as they sipped a glass of wine and nibbled sandwiches, and as the evening went by gently, it seemed that Crowley had swayed closer, his hand on the back of Aziraphale's chair, his knee just a push away from Aziraphale's thigh. Aziraphale wanted nothing more than to lean into the touch, and leaving was now the furthest thing on his mind.
“Did I show you the press article from last week?” Crowley asked at some point, taking out his mobile with a grin. “If you allow me to brag, of course.”
“Of course,” Aziraphale chuckled back, taking this as an occasion to lean over to watch the screen.
Crowley opened a screenshot of a newspaper to show off a picture of himself in front of the door of a large mansion.
“What does it say?” Aziraphale asked, utterly unable to read anything in French.
The man shrugged, but his smile betrayed how proud he was. “They go on about the vineyard going organic, and how I plan to transform part of the building into a guest house.”
“That's lovely, my dear. It's a beautiful project.”
“Yeah. Maybe you'll come to visit sometime?”
Aziraphale looked up, and his breath hitched. Crowley had taken his glasses off, and was now seating insanely close, his arm wrapped around his shoulders without touching him. Aziraphale could feel the heat coming from his chest, and smell his perfume mixed with the sweat of an afternoon spent working. His eyes went from the man's eyes to his lips, briefly, feeling his own cheeks heat up.
“Aziraphale? Can I borrow you for a moment?”
Nina's voice came to break whatever magnetic spell had been cast between them, and the wedding planner stood up, apologising with a small smile. He felt Crowley's eyes following him as he joined the brides to be and their families and sat down with a gracious smile.
“What can I help with?”
“We're going to have a last minute change in the seating arrangements,” Nina announced sternly.
Aziraphale's mouth fell open, his heart suddenly stammering. “Is this some kind of a joke?” he uttered, desperately looking at Maggie, who shook her head sheepishly.
They had spent months coming up with an arrangement of the 200 guests that was supposed to please everyone. This had been his main subject of discord with Nina, as he tried to make her understand that you couldn't possibly sit 200 people together and expect every single one to be entirely satisfied with their placement.
“Aunt Lorye fought with my cousin Dave,” Nina's father explained.
“C-can't they make up?” Aziraphale cried out, watching as the offensive sheet of paper was displayed in front of his eyes.
It earned him a few outraged looks, but any remarks were interrupted by the sound of Crowley plugging his guitar in the amp. The man sat with his legs up on a chair, and began to play softly, entertaining the guests who weren't caught in the seating arrangements drama.
For the next hour, Aziraphale argued with Nina and her parents, moving names around, only to be opposed with old family disputes every time he offered something. He couldn't believe he was missing on the little show of Crowley's hands dancing on his guitar for something so impossibly silly. When they finally reached an agreement, Aziraphale was shaking with anxiety. He felt as if he was going to cry, a sensation he put on the account of how tiring the day had been. He rectified one last name on the paper and looked at Nina.
“Are we done?”
“Yes. Thank you, Aziraphale, sorry.”
As sincere as she seemed in her apologies, it wasn't enough to quiet him. He offered a forced smile and a nod as he folded the paper.
“I— I'll make the actual changes in the morning, if you don't mind.”
Before she could answer, he left the table, walking away from the marquee to go to the dinning room. He taped the paper to the door, as a reminder for the morning, and dutifully took a picture of it just in case. Alone in the kitchen, he took a gulp of air to calm himself down. Maybe if he rummaged through the cupboard, he would find some calming tea to help him stop shaking before he had to drive back to London. It was either tea, or—
“Angel?”
Yes, that. Exactly that. That gentle, careful voice who called him the sweetest nickname he'd ever been called. He turned around, inhaling deeply.
Crowley was standing in the door frame, his tall silhouette cutting a black shape into the light coming from outside. He approached slowly and took Aziraphale's arms in his hands.
“Are you okay, angel?”
Aziraphale realised only then that he was crying and sniffed, shaking his head with a little dismissive laugh.
“Quite alright, darling. I simply— I needed a moment.”
Crowley didn't let go of his arms, and instead skimmed them up, until one of his hands came close to Aziraphale's face, one of his knuckles wiping a tear on his cheek. The wedding planner sucked a breath in, mesmerised by the proximity.
“Crowley…” he whispered, utterly unable to think about something else he wanted to say.
He didn't have to say anything. The man swayed closer, leaning down to close the distance between them and cover his lips with his own. A little sigh escaped Aziraphale, but he instantly relaxed under the touch, the tempest in his mind coming to a lull at last.
“Is this okay?” Crowley murmured, his mouth barely leaving his.
Aziraphale's hand clenched into fists around the fabric of his shirt, as if he was afraid to feel him slip away.
“Yes,” he whispered, pushing on his toes to join their lips again, earning a soft humph in return.
Crowley's long fingers curled around his head, sinking into his curls as he tentatively opened his mouth for a deeper kiss. His heart going wild, Aziraphale snaked an arm around the small of his back, attracting him forward until his own back hit the counter. The man grunted slightly, his body pressing against Aziraphale's, his mouth now opening wide to welcome his tongue, his hand holding his face in the perfect angle.
“C- Crowley,” Aziraphale croaked as his head was tilted up, the man now licking wet kisses in his neck and on his ear, making him shudder with want.
“What is it angel?” Crowley rasped, short breathed. “Anything you want, anything you need.”
The way he was sucking on his earlobe, and how his lithe body was writhing against his sturdier one left no ambiguity as to where those kisses were heading, so Aziraphale let his hands skim down until his palms cupped the man's bottom. He swirled them around and effortlessly lifted him to sit him on the counter.
He was answered with a giddy laugh as Crowley hooked his feet behind his back and leaned over to kiss him again, lavishly licking inside his mouth. Aziraphale pulled on his shirt to take the hems out of his trousers and slid his hands underneath it, feeling the soft skin of his back under his fingers. They kissed like this, Aziraphale's palms gliding on Crowley's back, Crowley's hands mussing Aziraphale's hair, until a noise in the dinning room startled them.
Crowley chuckled and put his chin to rest on top of Aziraphale's head, his arms resting loosely around his shoulders, while the wedding planner nuzzled his face in his open collar and inhaled the scent of his skin, panting.
“They're gone,” Crowley whispered after a minute. Aziraphale looked up, meeting his eyes in the dark. “Wanna erm— wanna come to my room?”
Aziraphale's lips parted slightly, and he tightened the hold of his arms around Crowley's waist.
“Are you sure?” he asked anxiously.
“Angel, I've been thinking about this for hours. Fuck, who am kidding? Months. Been wanting this for months, Aziraphale.”
“M- months?”
Could it be? Could his silly feelings be shared? Had their conversations also lulled Crowley in a such a deep, serene state of happiness that meeting in person had not been a necessity to call it love?
Before he could think too much about it, Crowley kissed him again, his heels digging in the soft padding of his back.
“So?” the man asked in a breath.
Aziraphale nodded, kissing him frantically, and lifted him again from the counter to put him back on the ground, where they kept pushing and pulling for a moment, lips red and swollen, crashing on each other's, breaths turning short and giddy again. Eventually, Crowley pulled on his hand, guiding him out of the kitchen. They slalomed between the tables and stepped outside, ignoring the faint sound of conversations still coming from the marquee to run straight to the second building.
The door closed behind Aziraphale, who stood still for a moment, wondering if Crowley would ever stop taking his breath away. In the faintly lit room, standing in a ray of moonlight, his red hair dishevelled and his lips reddened by kisses, he was absolutely beautiful. He smiled, and Aziraphale took a decisive step to close the distance between them and kiss him again. Between smiles and giggles, their embrace took them to the lush bed, where the taller man was forced to sit down. Aziraphale, who had begun to work on the buttons of his shirt, knelt between his legs to finish, and pushed the fabric off his shoulders.
He paused there. Crowley's chest looked like a work of art, where strokes of paint had been skilfully applied to turn him into a masterpiece. His skin adorned freckles, and thick hairs, and also two thin scars, almost invisible, under each of his pectorals. Aziraphale looked up to find the man blushing, his lips parted in anticipation, his throat bobbing up and down as he swallowed nervously, and Aziraphale finally noticed what he'd missed all day. He smiled fondly and pushed on his legs to kiss that flat throat, the man's stubble scratching his lips as he religiously covered his neck with mouth-opened kisses, going all the way up to nip his ear.
Crowley leaned into the touch with a faint groan, bringing a trembling hand behind his head to keep him close against his skin. Aziraphale's hands went up his thighs to wrap around his chest, briefly squeezing the love handles padding his narrow hips before he went down again to skim the waistband of his jeans.
“Can I see all of you, darling?” he asked, whispering against the red-head's skin.
Crowley detached himself to look at him with an impish grin. “I didn't drag you to my room expecting to keep my clothes on, angel.”
Aziraphale chuckled and pushed himself up to recapture his lips, pushing his knee on the mattress next to him.
“Pardon me for being thoughtful,” he said in an amused grin before he pulled Crowley's bottom lip between his teeth.
The man hissed, his hands flexing around Aziraphale's waist, before he pushed back into the kiss.
“Thank you for being thoughtful, angel,” he murmured. “Now undress me.”
As much as he wanted to do exactly that, Aziraphale found it hard to detach himself from the kiss that followed and had him almost collapsing on top of Crowley. When he managed to get back to his initial position on the floor, he was panting, his own clothes askew and creased, his arousal aching and pushing against the fabric of his trousers.
He worked open the other man's belt and pulled his trousers down, bringing with it boxers and socks that he pushed away before he sat back on his heels to look at him again. His hands gingerly glided on Crowley's nervous thighs, feeling the bristle of hairs under his palms, his thumbs digging into the lean muscles. His eyes followed, lingering on the nest of red hairs where blossomed the bud of his cock as he wetted his lips, his entire mouth dry with desire. They went up his happy trail on the pouch of his stomach, to the dip of his belly button, and then on his chest again. Finally reaching up, he met Crowley's smile.
“Enjoying the view, angel?”
The man was obviously trying to be cocky, if the bravado in his smile was any indication, but his eyes were blown wide, his lips trembling, and his voice cracked a little mid-sentence.
Aziraphale chuckled. “Very much, darling. You're stunning.”
Crowley's skin, from his cheeks to his neck, turned red, almost matching the colour of his hair, and Aziraphale couldn't refrain from another small laughter before he placed a kiss on the inside of the man's leg. He went up slowly, licking and biting his way up on the sensitive skin, following the way Crowley breathed harder or groaned as his cue to bite or suck harder on his skin, watching lovemarks blossom under his touch, until he reached the heady scent of his crotch.
He looked up briefly, looking for the man's ascent. Propped on his elbows, staring down at him, Crowley nodded frantically. Aziraphale smiled. He pressed the flat of his hand on the man's stomach, inviting him to lie down, and slid his other hand under the small of his back to hold him up, hauling his legs on his shoulders. He was still a breath away that he felt Crowley arch his back already, quivering with anticipation.
With just the tip of his tongue, Aziraphale licked him from his entrance to the tip of his gorged cock, feeling him gasp and grasp the bedding with one hand, the other flying to his mouth to cover it. Aziraphale smiled and did it again, pressing a little harder, using his tongue to open his labia before he focused on his cock, covering it entirely with the flat of his tongue before taking it fully in his mouth. He sucked on it lazily at first, swirling his tongue around it, following the sway of the man's hips pushing against his hand. He let go to glance up at the sound of a muffled cry, finding Crowley panting behind his hand still clasped on his mouth, and reached for his elbow.
“Let me hear you, dear,” he pleaded, “it's just you and me here.”
Crowley let him pull his hand away and raised his head. He swallowed and nodded.
“Y- yeah. Okay,” he stammered.
Aziraphale pressed a soft, lingering kiss on his lower stomach before resituating himself lower, going back to his ministrations with extensive care. The first touch got him another gasp, and Crowley's hand twitched toward his mouth again, only caught back last second to settle in Aziraphale's hair, clasping around it. The blond man hummed happily to encourage the gesture and took him in his mouth again, sucking gently and circling the tip of his cock with his tongue. He earned a shuddering moan as the man's fingers clenched around his curls, and closed his eyes, focused on the sounds he got out of him, on his scent and taste. He felt him tense, his thighs pressing each side of his head, and let go to lick lower, burying his face in the folds of his cunt. He pressed his tongue on his entrance until it breached, flooding his mouth with salt, and reached his arm around the man's leg to keep stroking his cock.
“O-oh f- fuck 'ziraphale” Crowley uttered in between ragged moans, his hips jerking to push against his mouth, his fingers now pulling on his hair with force.
It only took a few more seconds for his shuddering cry to fill the room as his body collapsed around Aziraphale, who moaned wantonly, his ears buzzing with the pressure applied by Crowley's thighs around his head. He licked up, taking the man's cock in his mouth one last time to feel him pulse, his finger tracing soothing circles on his stomach.
Soon the pressure around his head and in his hair eased down, allowing him to look up, resting his chin on Crowley's belly. The man's chest was heaving, glistening with sweat, his eyes wild when he raised himself on his elbows to look at Aziraphale, who smiled and pampered his stomach with kisses, going further up, until he found the smoother, thicker skin of one of his scars. He traced it softly with his lips, encouraged by Crowley's hand playing with his hair, and then dedicated the same treatment to the other one.
“Aziraphale?”
Crowley's voice was hoarse and uncharacteristically shy. Aziraphale looked up and pushed himself up to reach his neck and nuzzle his face here.
“What is it, my dear?”
“Are you going to undress?”
Aziraphale chuckled and looked at him again, pursing his lips. “Did you drag me to your room expecting me to keep my clothes on?”
Crowley huffed a laugh through his nose and grabbed the lapels of his waistcoat to pull him into a kiss.
“Bastard,” he murmured against his lips.
Aziraphale hummed his agreement, straddling him and pushing him down, the kiss deepening quickly until Crowley detached himself with a small wince.
“Don't like your own taste, dear?” Aziraphale asked softly, frowning.
“Nah, 's just… been a while since someone ate me like that.”
“Hm, you'll find out that I am quite a gourmet, and you taste divinely.”
To underline his words, Aziraphale found a spot in Crowley's neck to lick lavishly, making him sigh and groan softly until firm hands made him swirl onto his back. The red-head straddled him, running his hands on his chest, quickly going through the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt, pulling on the edges of his bow-tie to free his neck.
Aziraphale watched him, breathless, his eyes lingering on the marks left by his mouth of his legs and on his neck, his hands shivering on his thighs, struggling to fight the impulse to grab and leave more possessive bruises. Crowley leaned down to kiss him and trail his mouth down his jaw and in his neck, the scratch of his stubble so maddening Aziraphale couldn't refrain from pushing his hips up.
The bulge inside his trousers, successfully ignored until then, pressed against Crowley's hot, wet cunt, making Aziraphale moan and throw his head back against the mattress, offering more skin for the other man to bite and lick.
“I'll get to that soon, angel, don't worry,” Crowley growled, panting in his ear, grinding his crotch against his erection.
Aziraphale pushed on his elbows to let him shed him off of his shirt and stayed like that to watch him go slowly down, dragging kisses on his chest while his hands opened his trousers. Crowley's weight left him while he pulled them all the way down and discarded them at the foot of the bed, and then it was his turn to watch, knelt at his feet on the bed, his hands trembling on Aziraphale's calves. His eyes went up and down his naked body, his teeth catching his bottom lips, the fire in his eyes answering the fire in Aziraphale's body.
“Come back here,” Aziraphale pleaded, shivering.
“In a sec.”
“What is it?”
Crowley's smile was without doubt the most adorable thing Aziraphale had ever seen, with the way he tilted his head sideways, his crooked canine pressing on his lip and the coy look in his eyes.
“You're exactly how I dreamed you,” the man answered in a whisper.
Aziraphale sat up, feeling his cheeks burn red and his heart melt with fondness.
“Dreamed?” he repeated. “You knew what I look like.”
Crowley's smile widened, and the tip of his finger grazed down Aziraphale's chest.
“Not like this.”
He leaned over, his lips closing on Aziraphale's mouth, opening again in a smile to let their tongues curl together. Aziraphale sighed, closing his hand on Crowley's hip to coax him to come closer.
“Am I how you dreamed me?”
The murmur barely reached Aziraphale's ears. He pulled away from the kiss, just barely, to look down at the man's body, his gaze following his fingers skimming his neck down to the thick hair on his chest.
“Better,” he whispered back.
The kiss that ensued was everything you'd expect from two stars colliding together. Crowley grabbed him, climbing on his lap, both hands cupping his face. Aziraphale squeezed his arms around the man's lean body, moaning loudly in his mouth, his hips jerking to get more friction as Crowley's cunt flooded his lap.
“Wait, wait,” the red-head stammered, “I got condoms.”
He left the bed to rummage through his bag on the floor and came back with a little square package and a bottle of lube. Aziraphale refrained from teasing him about how foresighted he'd been about this and instead focused on preparing himself, distracted by his trembling hands and the kisses Crowley was pressing on every inch of his face he could reach.
He lifted him up, supporting his thighs as the man snaked his arms around his neck, and slowly eased him down. He huffed as his cock breached in, feeling himself shake, an insane heat surging through his guts. Crowley pushed down against his hold with a growl, making him gasp.
“Crowley, slow down, p- please!” he stammered, gritting his teeth.
“Did I hurt you?”
“Wh- no! No, quite the opposite,” Aziraphale answered with a sheepish smile. “I simply would like for this to last more than a minute, if you don't mind.”
Crowley grinned, his hands running through Aziraphale's hair, mussing with his curls on each side of his head. He rocked his hips more slowly, languidly pushing down until his cock was pressed against Aziraphale's pelvis, their faces almost at the same level so Aziraphale could gaze into his eyes. Against all odds, Crowley shuddered first, before they even really moved, his forehead dropping on Aziraphale's shoulder with a soft keen, his walls pulsing around him.
“F- fuck,” he whispered, shivering. “Sorry.”
Aziraphale chuckled, pressing a kiss on his temple. “No need to apologise, dear. Can you keep going?”
Crowley straightened up to look him in the eyes. “Don't you dare stop.”
Before he could even answer with a smile, Aziraphale's lips were covered, claimed by heated kisses, as the man above him began to roll his hips. He circled Crowley's waist with one arm, pressing his hand on the mattress behind him for more leverage, his tongue curling in the man's mouth, his teeth pulling on his lips. With every thrust, he felt his muscles clench, heat building in his stomach, sweat dripping on his skin, moans pouring from his lips.
Aziraphale's hand left the small of Crowley's back to grip his thigh, his fingers sinking deep in his flesh. He pushed forward, reclining him on his back, the other man's legs hooked around his waist. He gave more force to his hips, air pushed out of his lungs with each strong thrust, the sound of their skin slapping together filling the room, answering to their moans growing louder, stronger, hoarser. Crowley threw his head back, shaking once more, his nails digging in Aziraphale's back, making him wince through a shuddering cry as he came with one last deep push.
He let himself rest on Crowley, his face buried in his sweaty neck, feeling the man's cock pulse with his orgasm against his pelvis, his shaky fingers tracing circles in the nape of his neck.
The joined sounds of their hearts was echoing in his ears, matching the tingling sensation in the tip of his fingers as he ran them on a mark in Crowley's neck, a silly thought blooming in his bliss bathed mind.
mine
“You alright there, angel?”
Aziraphale's eyelids fluttered, as he realised his fingers were shaking on the mark. He pushed himself up, pulling out carefully, and rolled on his back with a contented sigh. Crowley followed immediately, tangling their legs together and pushing kisses on his chest. Aziraphale smiled, dazzled, his fingers running in his flaming red hair. The man looked up, his question still in his eyes.
“I'm right where I want to be, dear,” Aziraphale murmured. “Even if I could use a clean up,” he added with a smile, making Crowley snort with laughter.
The man dropped his head on Aziraphale's chest. “Gimme one more minute,” he said, rubbing his cheek.
“As many as you want.”
He only moved to remove the condom and set it aside in a tissue, and they stayed quiet for a while, sleep starting to numb Aziraphale, despite the sweat on his skin turning cold.
He woke up with a start, Crowley snoring slightly on his chest, and glanced at his watch. With a sigh, he rubbed his palm on the man's arm, hoping to make him scoot without waking him up too much, and sat on the edge of the bed.
“You leavin'?” came in a sleepy, disappointed voice behind him.
“I have to pick up the flowers at Covent Garden at 7,” Aziraphale explained faintly.
He turned to see the man's face, but Crowley hid in the crook of his arm.
“'Kay,” he mumbled.
He bit his lip. Leaving was the last thing he wanted to do, especially without knowing what Crowley's feelings truly were, or if they would ever have that again. They both would be terribly busy all weekend, and after that… after that Crowley would go home, and they possibly would never see each other again.
Aziraphale sighed again. Maybe they would have time to talk about it in the morning. He leaned over and pressed a kiss on the man's cheek before he stood up, gathering his clothes scattered across the room, and went to the bathroom to clean himself up and get dressed.