The Interlude-Chapter 9 (Good Omens fanfic)-The Reunion (part 2)

A/N-we get a little bit spicier in this chapter, but I'd consider it 16+.

Aziraphale felt lighter than he had in five years as he took Crowley’s hand, the touch somehow soothing and electric at the same time. The tension was finally abating; he had achieved a victory of sorts. He could also feel Crowley’s Love again, that beautiful golden glow expanding from its hiding spot to envelop the room. He tried not to dwell on the fact that Crowley hadn’t said “I love you” back yet, nor had he said “I accept your apologies.” He had faith that those would come in time, and in any case, he had had quite enough of words for the moment. How many times had he envisioned those long and marvelous fingers in his hair, down his back, unbuttoning his waistcoat, claiming every inch of his skin? He was closer to realizing that dream than ever, but he knew this was still delicate, that he could still go too fast. He dabbed at his tears with his free hand as he contemplated his next move.

After a minute, he took a deep breath and made a suggestion. “You know, my love, a human couple might hug in an emotional moment like this.” He had wanted to embrace Crowley the second he walked in, but he was now very glad he had held off, difficult as it had been. Their first embrace deserved better than that. It was too important, too precious, too–dare he say it, sacred–to be rushed. Their first dance and first kiss had already been tainted–he was not letting anything sully this first. If all the legions of Heaven and Hell showed up, well, they would just have to wait until he was done hugging his demon, his partner. As that would be a very long time indeed, they’d likely get bored and wander off.

“Angels don’t hug. We don’t hug.” For perhaps the first time this evening, Crowley said exactly what Aziraphale had been expecting. A token resistance to the concept, but not a true rejection. There was hope yet.

“Well, there are now two angels who hug on occasion. Muriel saw humans doing it and thought it might be comforting. They snuck up on me the first time and it was…rather alarming. But I agreed to try it again. It did help a little.” It also made that ache in his heart, that 87-year-old desire to hold Crowley and be held in turn, all the more prominent.

“I’d like to think hugging me would be a tad different from hugging Muriel, angel.”

“I would have to agree, my love. Shall we find out?” The moment of truth. Would Crowley accept the invitation? Had Aziraphale earned this? He held his breath. Crowley nodded and stood up. Aziraphale followed and put his arms around the demon tentatively at first, just in case his hug would be more suffocating than intended with his Archangelic force. To his surprise, his beloved had no such hesitation, those long arms wrapping tightly around him like...well, like a serpent. He hugged tighter in turn, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder. He breathed in Crowley’s rich and smoky scent, never wanting to let go.

“Ssssorry if this is too tight, angel. You’re just so ssssoft and warm.”

“Not at all. This is lovely. You’re lovely.” While Crowley’s hissing had featured in a number of Aziraphale’s less angelic fantasies, he had never heard this soft contented version before. It made his heart swell, and…other parts as well. Pesky human corporations, always trying to go too fast.

“ ‘M not lovely.” Crowley muttered into Aziraphale’s ear, even as he melted further into the embrace. Aziraphale ran one hand down his beloved’s back and moved the other up to the nape of his neck, finally getting his well-manicured fingers into those red locks. This was absolutely sublime, and he felt pangs of regret for not doing this sooner, for depriving both of them of this feeling for so long.

“Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close, forever and ever…”

Crowley bit back the impulse to snarl at the sound system. It wasn’t its fault that the answer was “no”, that no mortal songwriter could cover the complexities of this blessed situation. He tried to refocus on the bliss of the angel’s touch, the way he said words like “lovely” and “couple”, the weight of his head on his shoulder reassuring him that this was real. Now that he was up close, the Archangel scent had faded into the background, so he smelled like tea and pastries and old books and home again. He struggled to keep his traitorous hands from wandering too far down, from cupping the Supreme Archangel’s supremely magnificent arse. No, he had to give them a new goal, a safer goal.

“I have a new rule, angel. And another question.”

“Yes, love?” Aziraphale lifted his head and straightened up to look Crowley in the eye, but didn’t fully pull out of the embrace.

“Remember 1967? I said I’d take you anywhere you want to go?”

“I do. I did want to apologize for that, for not making it clear I was ready to go faster after the world didn’t end, after I almost lost you the first time.”

“Remember rule 2, angel. Still not saying the f-word.”

“Understood. But I needed to apologize anyway.” The angel sighed. “Suppose I owe you another apology for interrupting. Your new rule?”

“Right, so…what I said back then still stands. I’ll still go anywhere you want. But given how dreadfully things went last time…you’re driving, angel.”

“Oh darling, it wasn’t you who was dreadful, it was the…circumstances. But I understand.” Aziraphale looked away. The longer he made eye contact in this position, the more tempted he was to drive his lips full speed ahead onto his beloved’s. But he had promised himself he would do this right, would ask the way he wished he had been asked the first time. “Though you will tell me if I start going too fast, okay?” It wasn't a Command, but hopefully the tone would still be enough for Crowley to take that request seriously.

“Of course, angel.” Crowley would have thought that impossible, but…he was a demon. He could sense Lust. And the bookshop was surprisingly full of it right now. He’d sensed it in the past, but it was never quite this strong. He had always assumed it was due to their proximity to Mrs. Sandwich’s fine establishment. But given that it wasn’t there earlier, he was now lead to the startling conclusion that it was his angel the whole blessed time. Aziraphale still seemed determined to control it, to move things at a glacial pace, but Someone-only-knew when that resolve would break. “Now, my question. I’m starting to get used to the eyes, but the hair is still a terrible look on you, angel. Can I…fix it?” This seemed like the perfect solution to Crowley’s predicament. If it worked, he’d make Aziraphale look like his angel again, bring out those soft white curls he had always dreamed of touching. If it didn’t, at least his hands would be honorably occupied while he waited for the angel to hit the gas.

“Oh, please do, my love!” Aziraphale wasn’t sure it was fixable, but he was more than willing to let his beloved try.

Crowley’s hands flew up into Aziraphale’s hair. By Satan, this was harder than any gel he’d ever dealt with before. He gently probed at the nape of the neck–it seemed like the angel looking up into his eyes had produced the cracks needed to break apart the Heavenly hair armor. He kept working through the cracks, inching his way towards the top of his head.

“I run my fingers through your hair and watch the lights go wild, just keep on keeping your eyes on me, it’s just wrong enough to make it feel right…”

“Oh, my love, that feels heav…delightful.” Luckily, Aziraphale caught himself in time. He knew other Heavenly entities would find such close physical contact inherently deplorable, even if a demon weren’t involved. But he didn’t care about that right now. His beloved’s lips were just inches from his. The moment finally seemed right. “Now, may I kiss you, or would that distract you from your very important work?”

“Pleasssse, angel.”

That was all Aziraphale needed to hear. He tilted his head up to meet his beloved’s lips, moving in slowly, softly, the way he had always imagined their first kiss should be. He let it linger just a moment before pulling away. The first kiss wasn’t meant to last forever, after all. It should be an appetizer, an invitation, hopeful for more but not assuming, not demanding.

“You bassstard! Kiss me prop..” Crowley’s scolding was interrupted by an angel who was finally done with propriety and pretending and patience. Aziraphale started out gently again, but then parted his lips, inviting his beloved in. As far as he was concerned, the second kiss could be as long and deep as he and Crowley wanted, and oh how he wanted. He pulled Crowley in as close as possible, relishing the sensation of his hands in his hair, which were proving somewhat successful at freeing his curls even with the added distraction. He set aside all the centuries of fretting and worrying and surrendered to his corporation’s instincts. Just loosen up a little, find your rhythm. You’ll figure it out. The voice of a long-ago experiment rang in his head. As trivial as all of those now seemed in comparison to this, the advice was sound. Just as he thought he’d found that rhythm, the Serpent of Eden did something unexpected and yet remarkable with his tongue, and it felt like the planets and the fates and all the stars aligned. As poorly as the evening had started, maybe he really was a mastermind.

Too soon, Crowley broke the kiss and whispered in Aziraphale’s ear. “Angel…please…can’t stand…” Aziraphale pulled away, astonished. He might not be the most accomplished kisser, but surely he wasn’t so terrible that his beloved couldn’t stand it.

Crowley grabbed his hand and led them to the couch, “I meant literally can’t stand anymore, idiot,” he snarled, though there wasn’t much bite to it. “Starting to lose control of my legs.”Aziraphale couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at the misunderstanding as he sat down and the demon slithered into his lap with surprising ease, wrapping an arm around for balance. “Thissssss alright, angel? Not too fassssst?”

Oh, that hiss, right in his ear…it was a good thing they were sitting down now, because that would have knocked Aziraphale over had they still been standing. “Not at all, my love,” he whispered back, seizing the opportunity to fulfill one of his oldest fantasies and kiss the little snake under Crowley’s sideburn. When was the first time he’d wanted to do that? Rome, as they dined on oysters at Petronius’s restaurant? That long ago? Wait, was that the same night he decided to experiment with that woman? No, he was pretty sure that happened on a different day. He pushed those thoughts away, returning his focus to the present moment, kissing Crowley’s neck, reducing him to a primal hiss. It sounded better than any celestial harmony ever could.

Crowley felt like he was flying, even though his wings were safely tucked away and he was firmly planted in the angel’s lap. He still felt like he had no idea what he was doing, and his stupid snake tongue had come out and nearly ruined everything, but the angel sounded like he was eating a particularly scrumptious dessert so he must be less dreadful this time, maybe even satisfactory. Not that he was inclined to stop and ask. Now Aziraphale was kissing his neck, which was causing a rather demonic urge to float to the surface.

“Careful, angel, or I might just return the favor.” Perhaps if he could redirect the angel’s attention, the urge would go away on its own. He couldn’t entertain it, not if he wanted to stay in the angel’s lap, being beautifully bombarded by all of this kissing and touching and love.

Aziraphale pulled away and looked at Crowley with half-lidded eyes. “Oh Crowley, that sounds…” Vile, demonic, snake-y, unworthy of the Supreme Archangel. “…rather nice.” He smiled and kissed the snake tattoo again, then went back down his neck.

Crowley realized he was going to have to summon the courage to use his words here, even if it scared the angel. “Angel. To be perfectly clear, I, the foul demonic Serpent of Eden, the original tempter, am this close to ripping the Supreme Archangel’s stupid beautiful bow tie to shreds and ravishing his all-holy neck and defiling it with my sssnake fangs. And I am trying very hard to not do that so if you will just back away…”

Aziraphale stopped and looked at him. “Well, I would prefer the bow tie remain in usable condition. You don’t literally have claws, dear. But the rest of that sounds…very nice indeed. Darling, I’m all yours.” He bit his lip and leaned back to expose his neck.

Crowley struggled to find his breath. Did the angel really just call him darling after he’d uttered one of his darker desires and claim he wanted the same thing? That broke the last of his resolve. He kissed the angel’s lips again, a few soft ones before he crossed the line. His hands shaking, he found the ends of the bow tie and briefly kissed the knot before pulling them apart. He miracled it safely away next to his glasses, then started on the shirt buttons. Not all of them just yet, but the first few seemed like they should be fair game, given that Crowley had walked around with his undone for years now, practically naked in comparison to his buttoned-up prim and proper angel who now looked decidedly less proper all flushed and breathless, the faintest hint of white chest hair now visible. Crowley grazed his lips along all of the newly-exposed skin, plotting where to strike. Finally, he found the perfect spot and bit. Not too hard, he hoped (having never done this before outside of shameful dreams, he wasn’t actually sure), just enough to leave a mark, a little souvenir for the Supreme Archangel to show off when he had to go back Upstairs. Realistically, he would probably miracle it away, but for now, Crowley was going to pretend he wouldn’t. “Angel,” he snarled after kissing over the spot where he marked. “My angel.”

“Oooh yes, your angel, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s hand found its way back into Crowley’s hair as the demon continued kissing his neck, making a twin mark on the other side. “I love you so much.” Aziraphale still found it a bit hard to say, but he wanted to say it over and over again. He also wanted to commit to memory the look of shock and delight on his beloved’s face when he affirmed that he wanted to be marked almost as badly as the demon wanted to mark him. Really, how could he have fallen in love with a serpent and not had dreams of being claimed in such a manner? He wondered how long it would take his colleagues Upstairs to notice the marks, if they would even recognize them for what they were. Miracling them away was out of the question. Maybe he could “conceal” them with the metallic makeup they were so fond of. But he could think about that later.

“Now that you’ve marked your territory, love, perhaps you would like to explore it further?” He phrased it as a question, not wanting to be the one going too fast, asking for something the demon wasn’t ready for.

“Thought you’d never ask, angel.” Crowley grinned and started working on the angel’s waistcoat.

I’m yours to keep, and I’m yours to lose, you know I’m not a bad girl but I do bad things with you, so it goes…you did a number on me, but honestly baby who’s counting…

And so it went, two human-shaped immortal beings who had spent centuries pretending not to be in love, not to have rather human desires, finally stopped pretending. If the Almighty or the one who claimed to speak for Her disapproved, they remained silent.