Happy Holidays, the_leechwife!
Title: Snowflakes
gift for: the_leechwife
from: nettle_mooneye
rating: R
summary: Aziraphale muses on how moments of love are as unique as snowflakes.
Aziraphale thought about love. It had been a theme for many a book, certainly, and of course there was the love of God, which, as an angel, he was well familiar with. And yet, it was difficult to define, and almost, one felt, ineffable
The angel turned a page in the book that he was not reading. There was love towards all of God's creation, of course, and that was simple enough. Then there was his own love for books, and there was certainly nothing wrong with that, either, even though someone might called it a bit obsessive at times. There was simple love and then there was the more complex kind. There was the love that Aziraphale shared with Crowley.
Eventually, it was the demon who interrupted Aziraphale's thinking. Crowley sauntered into the shop with a smile on his lips and a bottle of wine in his hands. He found the angel from the back of the shop, and sat on the table next to him.
"You should get out more", he declared and nudged the book away from Aziraphale's reach.
"I was thinking", Aziraphale said, disapproving slightly on his counterpart's choice of seat.
"Must have been interesting", Crowley said, but left it at that. He wiped a thin layer of dust from Aziraphale's shoulders and sniffed at the cup of tea that had long since gone cold. "How about a glass of wine?"
Sometimes, Aziraphale thought about how it had all started.* It was somewhat difficult to place. Their love, he concluded, had just grown in place over the years, felt by them both, admitted by neither, until one day it was there, all around them. There had been no need to tell the other, because he already knew.
The glass of wine turned into several, and eventually into another bottle. They were sitting at the back room, comfortable and getting drunk. Crowley was explaining about snow. How it was soft, and looked so bloody nice from a distance, but it had no business being so blessed cold.
Snowflakes, thought Aziraphale. They were all unique. He had read about them once, but he couldn't remember where. In any case, they were one of the wonders of creation. Unique, every single one of them, and there had been so many of them over the years.
In their way, they were a lot like love. Or perhaps love was a lot like snowflakes. Small, unique moments. Like the time they shared tea, in a cold winter morning, or one of the many times when they had drunk wine, full and sparkling, when the autumn was getting cold or in the heat of a summer night.
There had been comfortable walks to the duck pond, and, eventually, clasped hands, entwined fingers and sweet kisses. And there had been that night when they had went looking at the stars and ended up gazing each other in the eyes instead.
"They are talking about some kind of big bang these days", Aziraphale had said. "Bang. Some sort of bloody big explosion. Seems rather unrefined to me."
Crowley had added something in an agreeing tone of voice, but he hadn't been looking at stars any more. Instead, his hand had went wandering about Aziraphale's person, opening his shirt - which the angel had not objected to, it had been a warm night - and eventually taking a foray into his trousers. And of course Aziraphale couldn't just let something like that go; he had had to reciprocate.
There had been the feeling of Crowley's fingers against his erection, and the taste of his lips in his mouth, the removing of clothing and sunglasses... the demon had blinked those yellow eyes of his, and then he had -
"Are you even listening?"
Oh, Crowley.
"Of course I am, dear boy", Aziraphale said, blinked a few times and attempted not to blush. "Snowflakes", he added helpfully, when Crowley kept staring at him.
"What about them?"
"Unique. They are all unique. Just like moments of love."
Crowley shook his head and reached for the bottle of wine just when Aziraphale did. Their hands met at the neck of the bottle, plump, well manicured fingers meeting a thinner hand. They managed to focus their attention on each other. Aziraphale smiled. Yes, moments such as these were exactly like snowflakes.
***
While there was platonic love, Aziraphale thought, there was also romantic love, passionate love, love that encompassed everything else. There was eternal love, gazing into blue and yellow eyes, as soft as the brush of angel wings.
That night, they got in the bed, and afterwards they curled up against each other, content, happy for the moment. And ultimately, there was love to be comfortable with, a physical closeness, ability to trust. There was love that allowed an angel and a demon to fall asleep on each other's arms.
*Or how their love had started, at any rate. He was very familiar how everything had started, roughly 6000 years ago.
mods' note: if you're having trouble with the images, try Safari or Firefox. Crowley's had too much fun with Internet Explorer...
gift for: the_leechwife
from: nettle_mooneye
rating: R
summary: Aziraphale muses on how moments of love are as unique as snowflakes.
Aziraphale thought about love. It had been a theme for many a book, certainly, and of course there was the love of God, which, as an angel, he was well familiar with. And yet, it was difficult to define, and almost, one felt, ineffable
The angel turned a page in the book that he was not reading. There was love towards all of God's creation, of course, and that was simple enough. Then there was his own love for books, and there was certainly nothing wrong with that, either, even though someone might called it a bit obsessive at times. There was simple love and then there was the more complex kind. There was the love that Aziraphale shared with Crowley.
Eventually, it was the demon who interrupted Aziraphale's thinking. Crowley sauntered into the shop with a smile on his lips and a bottle of wine in his hands. He found the angel from the back of the shop, and sat on the table next to him.
"You should get out more", he declared and nudged the book away from Aziraphale's reach.
"I was thinking", Aziraphale said, disapproving slightly on his counterpart's choice of seat.
"Must have been interesting", Crowley said, but left it at that. He wiped a thin layer of dust from Aziraphale's shoulders and sniffed at the cup of tea that had long since gone cold. "How about a glass of wine?"
Sometimes, Aziraphale thought about how it had all started.* It was somewhat difficult to place. Their love, he concluded, had just grown in place over the years, felt by them both, admitted by neither, until one day it was there, all around them. There had been no need to tell the other, because he already knew.
The glass of wine turned into several, and eventually into another bottle. They were sitting at the back room, comfortable and getting drunk. Crowley was explaining about snow. How it was soft, and looked so bloody nice from a distance, but it had no business being so blessed cold.
Snowflakes, thought Aziraphale. They were all unique. He had read about them once, but he couldn't remember where. In any case, they were one of the wonders of creation. Unique, every single one of them, and there had been so many of them over the years.
In their way, they were a lot like love. Or perhaps love was a lot like snowflakes. Small, unique moments. Like the time they shared tea, in a cold winter morning, or one of the many times when they had drunk wine, full and sparkling, when the autumn was getting cold or in the heat of a summer night.
There had been comfortable walks to the duck pond, and, eventually, clasped hands, entwined fingers and sweet kisses. And there had been that night when they had went looking at the stars and ended up gazing each other in the eyes instead.
"They are talking about some kind of big bang these days", Aziraphale had said. "Bang. Some sort of bloody big explosion. Seems rather unrefined to me."
Crowley had added something in an agreeing tone of voice, but he hadn't been looking at stars any more. Instead, his hand had went wandering about Aziraphale's person, opening his shirt - which the angel had not objected to, it had been a warm night - and eventually taking a foray into his trousers. And of course Aziraphale couldn't just let something like that go; he had had to reciprocate.
There had been the feeling of Crowley's fingers against his erection, and the taste of his lips in his mouth, the removing of clothing and sunglasses... the demon had blinked those yellow eyes of his, and then he had -
"Are you even listening?"
Oh, Crowley.
"Of course I am, dear boy", Aziraphale said, blinked a few times and attempted not to blush. "Snowflakes", he added helpfully, when Crowley kept staring at him.
"What about them?"
"Unique. They are all unique. Just like moments of love."
Crowley shook his head and reached for the bottle of wine just when Aziraphale did. Their hands met at the neck of the bottle, plump, well manicured fingers meeting a thinner hand. They managed to focus their attention on each other. Aziraphale smiled. Yes, moments such as these were exactly like snowflakes.
***
While there was platonic love, Aziraphale thought, there was also romantic love, passionate love, love that encompassed everything else. There was eternal love, gazing into blue and yellow eyes, as soft as the brush of angel wings.
That night, they got in the bed, and afterwards they curled up against each other, content, happy for the moment. And ultimately, there was love to be comfortable with, a physical closeness, ability to trust. There was love that allowed an angel and a demon to fall asleep on each other's arms.
*Or how their love had started, at any rate. He was very familiar how everything had started, roughly 6000 years ago.
mods' note: if you're having trouble with the images, try Safari or Firefox. Crowley's had too much fun with Internet Explorer...