If you want a prompt... when Aziraphale uses pet names he usually tends towards “dear” or “darling” but one day he casually calls crowley “babe” and Crowley loses it he can’t handle it
Az plays the Cello.
Aziraphale was staring at the booklet in front of him. As much as he loved Bach’s music, actually playing it, was something he loved decidedly less.
Once again, he took it from the top. C-major scale down, one of the most basic things you could attempt to play, then it went up again, simple enough, twisting into loops around one note, rising higher, higher, until it returned to the same C-major downward scale again. The trick was in articulation. It all stood or fell with proper articulation, because the nature of the piece was simple enough. Fast – sure! – but overall simple. The structure of scales was omnipresent in the entire piece and if the musicality, the flow of crescendi and decrescendi paired with impeccable bow- and fingering technique wasn’t there it would become boring. Meaningless.
He made it through the piece, held his posture for just a moment, before he leaned back into his chair and tried to un-cramp his left hand.
“Angel?” Crowley called from the next room.
“Yes?”
“You done?”
“I can stop for today, yes.”
“I ordered Chinese food.”
Aziraphale put his cello down beside the chair, unwound the bow and went to join Crowley in the kitchen. It smelled delicious.
“Did you pay the delivery person?”
Crowley looked offended.
“Of course, I did. What do you think I am?”
“A demon?” Aziraphale asked and smiled.
Crowley glared at him.
“They’re poor enough already.”
“You’re too good, darling,” Aziraphale grinned and carried the boxes to the table, feeling Crowley’s angry stare in his back.
“Are you going to join me?” he asked.
Crowley huffed out a breath and slumped down on the chair next to Aziraphale.
“So, the cello.”
“Yes?” Aziraphale asked, while putting a mountain of food on his plate.
“How long has that been going on?”
“About two hundred years,” Aziraphale said, as he reached for the last container.
“You never let me listen in,” Crowley frowned.
“I didn’t think you’d want to, babe,” Aziraphale admitted.
“What?”
“I didn’t thi-“
“No,” Crowley interrupted him. “What did you just say? After that.”
“Babe – oh.”
Crowley was blushing. Aziraphale had never seen him – or any other demon for that matter – blush before.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he muttered to himself, eyes glued to Crowley’s cheek as he tried to continue eating, but the demon was faster, pulling Aziraphale in close, until his face became blurry in front of the angel.
“I can’t believe you said that,” Crowley whispered.
Aziraphale felt himself blush as well.
“Oh babe,” Aziraphale said, intending to continue, but content with just trying out that word again. However, he never got to continue because, Crowley immediately closed the space between them, sealing his lips over the angel’s.
It was perfect, and as Aziraphale’s heart began to race and his love for Crowley bubbled over, his old gramophone in the living room started playing the Prelude to Bach’s third Cello Suite, although it sounded suspiciously like it was being played by Brian May’s Red Special.
