The pair had been up with the sun, packed and in the car and on the road while the town was still quiet, to begin their long weekend in New Orleans. Aziraphale had insisted on taking care of the reservations himself, wanting to surprise Wilson, and the young doctor had laughed and agreed to it ( Read more... )

Aziraphale hadn't gone home since that wretched encounter in the worship center. He figured Wilson would know he wasn't bleeding in a field someplace, and would understand that the angel needed some time to himself ( Read more... )

Aziraphale was trying to take up a little more in the way of cooking duties, especially since he had only the one shift at the Leaf and no clinic shifts currently. So at the moment he was puttering around the kitchen, following a couple of recipes written on index cards in Wilson's doctorish handwriting: vegetable penne with tarragon-basil pesto, ( Read more... )

Aziraphale had finished the Tuesday Leaf shift feeling tired and unsettled, and Wilson had demonstrated that gentle understanding which always endeared him so much to the angel by fixing a light supper of sandwiches and soup and then settling them both in the living room with an old black and white movie. The angel had fallen asleep on the couch, ( Read more... )

Aziraphale thought the situation was not at all funny, and didn't deserve laughing at, but apparently Wilson disagreed with him. Oh, the young doctor had been kind enough to make him some breakfast, and to even answer question after question about all the freaky little aches and twitches and rumblings that an angel with a real-live-body was now ( Read more... )

Aziraphale figured his and Wilson's house would be the safest place to attempt whatever the girls had come up with to get him back into a body of his own. So he asked Wilson to set up a place in the living room for them to meet ( Read more... )

Aziraphale pressed his face against Wilson's chest, unable to help a little smile at how much his mate's scent comforted him. The young doctor had finally come in the library late the previous night, and gently insisted the angel come to bed. There'd been a cup of tea waiting on the nightstand, and rather than ask questions, Wilson had simply ( Read more... )

Aziraphale figured the word-of-mouth culture around Milieux would be sufficient to pass the word about the holiday potluck he and Wilson were hosting on Christmas Eve. So instead of bothering with hanging posters, the pair spent the morning cooking, the door to the house propped open to welcome anyone who stopped by ( Read more... )

It might have seemed odd to some people to find a letter slipped through the mail slot on a Sunday, but Aziraphale and Wilson didn't think anything of it. Letters arrived for them in a manner of ways, and from all manner of places ( Read more... )

It was just after sunset, and Aziraphale was stretched out on his back in the grass, watching Wilson fuss a bit with the rich garden grew behind their house. Despite being an angel, he'd never learned the knack of caring for plants -- that was always Crowley's thing -- and so when left up to him, the garden simply grew, as if it knew it was ( Read more... )