Borrowing Trouble (Aziraphale/Crowley | R)
Title: Borrowing Trouble
Rating: R
Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley
Beta: pandionpandeus
Warnings/Labels: Wing!kink, footnotes
A/N: Written for the Good Omen holiday exchange
Summary: Aziraphale is well known to be impossible to buy for.
Aziraphale is impossible to buy for. After centuries of the Arrangement, Crowley has decided this is a fact1.
Still every blessed Christmas, Crowley’s out shopping for something for Zira. He’s just grateful they don’t have birthdays. That’s all he needs; another holiday to by Zira something for.
He toys with the idea of books2. Then with some expensive liquor 3.
Crowley frowns at a row of writing journals trying to remember if Aziraphale still does the scribe bit. He knew he still kept his accounts 4 by hand, but did he still do illumination?
Crowley just doesn’t remember.
“Can I help you find something?” a cheerful young woman bounces up to ask.
Crowley glares at her over the top of his sunglasses. “No.”
“Looking for something for someone special?” she asks like she hadn’t heard him.
Crowley makes a note to have something bad happen to this young woman, maybe her iPod breaking. Then he cringes; doing that when shopping for Aziraphale isn’t in the ‘spirit’.
“He’s very hard to buy for,” Crowley allows.
The young woman’s eyes twinkle. “So what does your young man like? I’m certain we can find something he’ll fancy.”
His young man? Isn’t the world becoming forward thinking. About time, he thinks. “I doubt that. He has too many books. Liquor would be a gift for us both. He won’t wear anything but tartan and tweed. He’s impossible.”
The young woman, Mandy her tag says, laughs. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“Yes, it is,” Crowley says gloomily.
“What about music?”
“He has dreadful taste, I refuse to buy what he listens too,” Crowley complains.
Mandy presses her lips together. “Maybe something a bit more personal? Offer to do something for him. Something you normally wouldn’t do?”
Of all the --
Then the idea hits him. A terrible idea that will lead to nothing but trouble5. He’ll do it. And maybe he won’t break Mandy’s iPod6
[1] Once, when feeling peevish, Crowley did carve it in stone and gave that to Aziraphale. Of course, the angel liked it.
[2] Aziraphale always seems to have whatever book it is Crowley gets him. Crowley’s beginning to think the shop breeds books.
[3] Crowley is always a fan of liquor.
[4] Such that he does keep them.
[5] But when has that stopped him?
[6] He breaks her boss’s, who had been an arse to her all day for not making enough, sales iPhone and makes sure he gets a flat on the way home.
***
Christmas comes before anyone notices 1.
Crowley sits across from Zira sipping a very good wine, watching the angel carefully. The angel had given him a very good bottle of red and a book of quotes by famous sinners. Crowley had already flipped through to see how many he knew personally.
Aziraphale doesn’t seem to expect anything from him2.
“Merry Christmas, dear,” Aziraphale says, toasting Crowley with his glass.
“I’ll groom your wings,” Crowley blurts out without any finesses.
Aziraphale blinks 3. “My wings?”
Crowley nods and takes another long sip of wine. “Just this once,” he cautions. “Because of the day and all that.”
The angel is quiet for a moment, then he smiles. “That would be quite nice of you, my dear.”
“Your wings are always a mess, makes me embarrassed to be seen with you,” Crowley tells him.
“Of course,” Aziraphale says with a smile. “Would you like to do them now?”
“Might as well,” Crowley says. “The bedroom’s the best place for it.”
They move4 into the bedroom.
“I’ll just bring my wings out,” Aziraphale says, as he takes off his shirt and cardigan.
Crowley watches from the doorway, trying to control breath he doesn’t need. “You do that.”
Zira shakes out his wings and Crowley swallows. It’s been so long since he’s seen Zira’s wings. They’re not white. More a light shimmery blue. And in a terrible state.
Crowley tuts. “Don’t you groom yourself at all?”
Aziraphale flushes slightly, looking over his shoulder at Crowley. “I do try, my dear, but it’s hard to reach all the feathers.”
Crowley sits down behind Zira. “I manage,” he points out.
“That you do,” he allows. He shakes his wings, the feathers fluffing out slightly.
Crowley runs his fingers over the primaries, moving them back into place. “Such a state,” he sighs, even as he revels in the feel of the silky feathers under his fingers. He’s groomed Aziraphale’s wings once before5, but it was so long ago. He’d forgotten how good it felt to touch another’s wings.
Zira groans softly under Crowley’s touch. Crowley tries to ignore the little sounds, the way Aziraphale’s wings twitch under his hands.
Crowley works his way to the spot where wing meets skin. His fingers stray just a little onto pale skin. Oh yes, this was borrowing trouble.
Zira makes a soft, almost desperate noise.
“Sshould I ssstop, angel?” Crowley hisses softly, leaning close to Aziraphale’s ear.
The angel takes a sharp, unneeded breath and shakes his head. “No, don’t stop, Crowley.”
That’s all the permission Crowley needs to trail his fingers up and down that sensitive bit of skin, while stroking the soft down at the base of Aziraphale’s wing. “Alwayss were responssive.”
Zira makes the most delightful little noises that have Crowley leaning forward to taste the skin of the angel’s throat. His fangs come out, though he doesn’t intend to use any venom on Azirpahale. Oh, he might bite, but nothing permanent. Though sometimes he wishes...
“Oh please,” Aziraphale sighs, angling his head to the side.
“Want my bite, angel?” Crowley asks, burying his fingers in feathers.
The smallest of nods is all Crowley needs. He bites down, just a bit, all the while keeping up his torture of Aziraphale brilliant wings.
Aziraphale arches back against him, making the most lovely sinful noises. His whole body goes tense under Crowley’s hands and mouth. Then Aziraphale goes slack against him, taking in lungfulls of air he doesn’t need.
“Good?” Crowley asks, stroking the feathers slowly now. He licks at the bite mark he left.
Zira nods. “Very good, my dear.”
Crowley presses his hips against the small of Zira’s back. “Think you can make more of an effort tonight?”
The angel laughs softly and turns his head for a kiss. “Only if you let me touch your wings.”
Crowley always did like borrowing trouble6.
[1] Christmas likes to sneak up on the world and surprise it while its sleeping.
[2] Aziraphale has learned that it’s best not to pressure Crowley on such delicate matters such as gifts.
[3] Though he doesn’t need to. Some might say Aziraphale and Crowley have become just a little too ‘at home’ in their bodies.
[4] They move the wine as well.
[5] They don’t talk about that time. Effort was made, things got messy for a time. But things are different now, after the end that wasn’t. Crowley’s greedier.
[6] Sometimes you might say trouble borrows him.
Rating: R
Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley
Beta: pandionpandeus
Warnings/Labels: Wing!kink, footnotes
A/N: Written for the Good Omen holiday exchange
Summary: Aziraphale is well known to be impossible to buy for.
Aziraphale is impossible to buy for. After centuries of the Arrangement, Crowley has decided this is a fact1.
Still every blessed Christmas, Crowley’s out shopping for something for Zira. He’s just grateful they don’t have birthdays. That’s all he needs; another holiday to by Zira something for.
He toys with the idea of books2. Then with some expensive liquor 3.
Crowley frowns at a row of writing journals trying to remember if Aziraphale still does the scribe bit. He knew he still kept his accounts 4 by hand, but did he still do illumination?
Crowley just doesn’t remember.
“Can I help you find something?” a cheerful young woman bounces up to ask.
Crowley glares at her over the top of his sunglasses. “No.”
“Looking for something for someone special?” she asks like she hadn’t heard him.
Crowley makes a note to have something bad happen to this young woman, maybe her iPod breaking. Then he cringes; doing that when shopping for Aziraphale isn’t in the ‘spirit’.
“He’s very hard to buy for,” Crowley allows.
The young woman’s eyes twinkle. “So what does your young man like? I’m certain we can find something he’ll fancy.”
His young man? Isn’t the world becoming forward thinking. About time, he thinks. “I doubt that. He has too many books. Liquor would be a gift for us both. He won’t wear anything but tartan and tweed. He’s impossible.”
The young woman, Mandy her tag says, laughs. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“Yes, it is,” Crowley says gloomily.
“What about music?”
“He has dreadful taste, I refuse to buy what he listens too,” Crowley complains.
Mandy presses her lips together. “Maybe something a bit more personal? Offer to do something for him. Something you normally wouldn’t do?”
Of all the --
Then the idea hits him. A terrible idea that will lead to nothing but trouble5. He’ll do it. And maybe he won’t break Mandy’s iPod6
[1] Once, when feeling peevish, Crowley did carve it in stone and gave that to Aziraphale. Of course, the angel liked it.
[2] Aziraphale always seems to have whatever book it is Crowley gets him. Crowley’s beginning to think the shop breeds books.
[3] Crowley is always a fan of liquor.
[4] Such that he does keep them.
[5] But when has that stopped him?
[6] He breaks her boss’s, who had been an arse to her all day for not making enough, sales iPhone and makes sure he gets a flat on the way home.
***
Christmas comes before anyone notices 1.
Crowley sits across from Zira sipping a very good wine, watching the angel carefully. The angel had given him a very good bottle of red and a book of quotes by famous sinners. Crowley had already flipped through to see how many he knew personally.
Aziraphale doesn’t seem to expect anything from him2.
“Merry Christmas, dear,” Aziraphale says, toasting Crowley with his glass.
“I’ll groom your wings,” Crowley blurts out without any finesses.
Aziraphale blinks 3. “My wings?”
Crowley nods and takes another long sip of wine. “Just this once,” he cautions. “Because of the day and all that.”
The angel is quiet for a moment, then he smiles. “That would be quite nice of you, my dear.”
“Your wings are always a mess, makes me embarrassed to be seen with you,” Crowley tells him.
“Of course,” Aziraphale says with a smile. “Would you like to do them now?”
“Might as well,” Crowley says. “The bedroom’s the best place for it.”
They move4 into the bedroom.
“I’ll just bring my wings out,” Aziraphale says, as he takes off his shirt and cardigan.
Crowley watches from the doorway, trying to control breath he doesn’t need. “You do that.”
Zira shakes out his wings and Crowley swallows. It’s been so long since he’s seen Zira’s wings. They’re not white. More a light shimmery blue. And in a terrible state.
Crowley tuts. “Don’t you groom yourself at all?”
Aziraphale flushes slightly, looking over his shoulder at Crowley. “I do try, my dear, but it’s hard to reach all the feathers.”
Crowley sits down behind Zira. “I manage,” he points out.
“That you do,” he allows. He shakes his wings, the feathers fluffing out slightly.
Crowley runs his fingers over the primaries, moving them back into place. “Such a state,” he sighs, even as he revels in the feel of the silky feathers under his fingers. He’s groomed Aziraphale’s wings once before5, but it was so long ago. He’d forgotten how good it felt to touch another’s wings.
Zira groans softly under Crowley’s touch. Crowley tries to ignore the little sounds, the way Aziraphale’s wings twitch under his hands.
Crowley works his way to the spot where wing meets skin. His fingers stray just a little onto pale skin. Oh yes, this was borrowing trouble.
Zira makes a soft, almost desperate noise.
“Sshould I ssstop, angel?” Crowley hisses softly, leaning close to Aziraphale’s ear.
The angel takes a sharp, unneeded breath and shakes his head. “No, don’t stop, Crowley.”
That’s all the permission Crowley needs to trail his fingers up and down that sensitive bit of skin, while stroking the soft down at the base of Aziraphale’s wing. “Alwayss were responssive.”
Zira makes the most delightful little noises that have Crowley leaning forward to taste the skin of the angel’s throat. His fangs come out, though he doesn’t intend to use any venom on Azirpahale. Oh, he might bite, but nothing permanent. Though sometimes he wishes...
“Oh please,” Aziraphale sighs, angling his head to the side.
“Want my bite, angel?” Crowley asks, burying his fingers in feathers.
The smallest of nods is all Crowley needs. He bites down, just a bit, all the while keeping up his torture of Aziraphale brilliant wings.
Aziraphale arches back against him, making the most lovely sinful noises. His whole body goes tense under Crowley’s hands and mouth. Then Aziraphale goes slack against him, taking in lungfulls of air he doesn’t need.
“Good?” Crowley asks, stroking the feathers slowly now. He licks at the bite mark he left.
Zira nods. “Very good, my dear.”
Crowley presses his hips against the small of Zira’s back. “Think you can make more of an effort tonight?”
The angel laughs softly and turns his head for a kiss. “Only if you let me touch your wings.”
Crowley always did like borrowing trouble6.
[1] Christmas likes to sneak up on the world and surprise it while its sleeping.
[2] Aziraphale has learned that it’s best not to pressure Crowley on such delicate matters such as gifts.
[3] Though he doesn’t need to. Some might say Aziraphale and Crowley have become just a little too ‘at home’ in their bodies.
[4] They move the wine as well.
[5] They don’t talk about that time. Effort was made, things got messy for a time. But things are different now, after the end that wasn’t. Crowley’s greedier.
[6] Sometimes you might say trouble borrows him.