#lovercrowley

[send me a number and i’ll write you an ineffable husbands ficlet!]

-

“Hello?”

“You really should answer with the name of your shop. What if I’d been a customer?”

“If someone doesn’t know what phone number they’ve dialed that can hardly be my fault.”

“Ah, yeah, point.”

“How was the visit to the National Gallery?”

“How do you think? What a ridiculous place to take a six year old. We mostly left Harriet to her friends and caused mayhem in the gift shop.”

“Oh dear.”

“Warlock bought you something, you know. Or well, he, ah, had me buy something. For you. From him.”

“Oh! What a kind gesture. What is it?”

“Well, I tried to talk him into a gag gift but he insisted on a bookmark.”

“A bookmark?”

“It has Van Gogh’s sunflowers on it.”

“How wonderful!”

“Yeah, yeah, flowers for his gardener. Bit on the nose.”

“Oh, hush, it’s sweet.”

“I’ll have to do something about that.”

“Did he get you something as well?”

“That’s hardly- completely besides the point! Anyway, it’s... getting late.”

“Mm, yes. Rather.”

“S’pose I’ll see you at the house tomorrow?”

“You will. I’ll look after Warlock in the morning, if the weather holds out.”

“Does look like rain. Alright, goodnight, angel.”

thanks for the prompt!

[help me celebrate by sending me a prompt for an ineffable husbands or deancas ficlet] no more, please :)

-

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

"And how’s that, my dear?” Aziraphale asks.

“It’s exactly the way you looked at that cake when the server brought it to the table.”

Aziraphale hums and slides his tongue across the prongs of his fork even though there is no more frosting there to taste. He glances at Crowley, who has turned a delicious shade of pink, and says, “I have no idea what you mean.”

It’s been like this between them for a few weeks now, ever since the not-Apocalypse, and Aziraphale is thoroughly enjoying the playful banter now that he has no reason to restrain himself. He enjoys the frequent soft touches and gentle kisses even more so.

“Though if it’s at all similar to the way you’ve been watching me, I can understand how it’s made you so flustered.”

Crowley chokes a little on nothing but air, but eventually says, “Right. Maybe I need a closer look. Just- just to be sure.”

Aziraphale sets down his fork and gives Crowley his full attention. “Was it something,” he says, eyes trained on Crowley’s mouth, “like this?” And he licks his own lips just to see Crowley shiver.

“Could’ve been.” Crowley leans closer, perched precariously on the edge of his chair.

Aziraphale kisses him, light and sweet, and when he pulls back Crowley tries to follow. He teeters off balance for a second and has to grip the edge of the table to steady himself.

“I’m always flirting with you. Keep up.” Aziraphale makes this announcement at an otherwise completely ordinary lunch at the Ritz.

Lunch date, Crowley’s brain supplies helpfully before it sort of… shuts down. “Wuh,” he says, “nrgh?”

Aziraphale actually has the gall to smirk at him. “Haven’t you noticed, dear? You always have played along so sweetly.”

He maintains direct eye contact with Crowley when he licks the last bit of custard from his spoon, the bastard. Crowley falls in love all over again. He should have the hang of this by now, but Aziraphale continues to surprise him.

“Go on, then,” he says, hoping it doesn’t sound like the desperate plea it is.

Aziraphale’s cheeks flush pleasantly and his body wiggles as if he’s gearing up for the flirtation to end all flirtations. “What do you think of getting another order of creme brulee… to go?”

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa really???