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ineffablemossy · 7 months

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Hot chocolate under the stars

Day 2 of @flufftober / Good Omenstober @disaster-dog Prompt mashup: Hot chocolate // Star

I set out to write a wee drabble and ended up 2 days later with 4790 words. You might prefer to read this here on AO3.

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1986

The bell above the door jingled as they stepped through. The lighting inside the bookshop was dim, the desk lamp valiantly trying to bathe the immense space in warm light.

“Angel?” Crowley called out, turning the key in the lock and switching the sign to ‘Most definitely closed’. They sauntered over to the desk, pulling off their sunglasses and throwing them onto the wood and leather surface. They pressed their lips into a line, the frustrations of the last few months wearing their internal armour down to nothing. Crowley felt stretched thin, like butter spread over too much bread. Leaning one hand on the desk, they ran the other through their fire-kissed hair. They’d let it grow long the last few years, as was the fashion in some circles. The curls were a bit softer than the tight perms you saw these days on humans, but Aziraphale had called them rather pretty, so they’d kept them as they were.

They noticed a note propped up on the desk, a folded piece of cream paper with Crowley writ large in perfect copperplate hand. Snatching it up they collapsed into the armchair, one leg hooked over the arm. The paper was thick and textured; bringing it to their nose he could even smell the Angel’s soap and ink clinging to it. They smiled at the gentle heart-warming familiarity of it. Flicking the note open, Crowley read:

My dear Crowley,

I hope this note finds you well.

“Bloody Hell Angel, it’s a note not a letter to the Queen,” they quipped, chuckling at the formality.

I know you’ve been very busy recently, what with all that business in Wapping and further afield. I’d quite like to provide you a moment of respite, so I have planned a little soiree for us tonight.

When you’re quite ready you’ll find me upstairs, ALL the way upstairs. It might get a bit chilly so I’ve laid out some warm clothes for you in the bedroom, I hope they’ll be to your liking.

Yours,

Aziraphale

P. S. Please could you also bring the two books and pencils I’ve set aside in the top drawer of the desk, I won’t be able to manage them with the other things I have to carry up.

Crowley folded and clutched the letter close, as though they could breathe in the words written there. They closed their eyes, letting a warm feeling wash over them, spreading outwards from their chest.

“Aziraphale, I’ll never understand how you manage to make me feel so damned soft,” they murmured to themself. “Quite unseemly for a demon really.” Crowley tucked the note away in the inside pocket of their finely tailored black jacket and rose from the chair in one smooth movement, suddenly feeling lighter on their feet.

They slid the drawer open, smooth on its runners. Reaching into the dark recess and curling their fingers around the books. Lifting them out they noticed the black ribbon tied around the belly of the books, one larger and a lot older, all ragged edges and worn leather cover. Raking around they found two pencils, the long grey ones he’d seen the angel use many times over the years for making informal lists or writing tags for books he had no intention of selling. Occasionally they’d caught him drawing, but Aziraphale had always seemed a bit flustered and quickly covered up the pictures. It made Crowley very curious, but they didn’t push, the Angel was entitled to his privacy.

They tucked one of the pencils above their ear and used the other to pin their hair up into a rough twisted bun. Satisfied, they grabbed the books and bounded up the spiral staircase, black Doc Martens clattering on the wooden steps. The door to Aziraphale’s bedroom was open, and they hesitated a moment before entering.

The room was cosy, the walls a warm yellow shade, the bed covered in an ornate gold bedspread. It smelt of talc and vaguely of a sort of incense. Crowley had always liked talc, it reminded them of powder down and the smell brought back strong memories of grooming Aziraphale’s wings over the years. They smiled and reached down to inspect the black clothes laid out carefully on the bedspread.

Crowley picked up a large hand-knit jumper, incredibly soft, with complicated cables running down the front and a neat crew neck collar. They buried their face in it, smelling the faint linger of lanolin.

“Mmmm thas nice,” they said. Crowley pulled off the jacket and threw it on the bed before slipping the jumper over their head. They hugged themself with a wiggle, squeezing the soft wool under their hands. “What else you got for me Angel…not sure about these…” They picked up a pair of fluffy socks, white with gold stars, and a pair of black soft-soled sheepskin boots. They shrugged and flopped down on the bed, pulling off the leather boots and slipping on the new footwear.

“S’not so bad I suppose,” they said. Standing up they posed to look in the full-length mirror mounted on the ancient dark wood armoire. The jumper was too big, hanging down over their thighs encased in tight black jeans, neckline slipping down on one side to reveal their fine collarbone. Crowley jutted one hip out, tilting their head to the side, a few bright red strands escaping to trail down their neck. “Ngh, not bad at all Angel.”

Turning back to find the final piece, Crowley’s eyes widened as they recognised the coat. The lush black fur ran long and cool under their fingers. I had no idea he kept this, they thought, it’s been 20 years since I last wore it. They swung the coat around their shoulders, arms slipping easily through the silk sleeve lining. The wide collar stand pushed the full collar up around their neck, tickling their freckled skin with the soft strands of fur. Crowley grinned, revelling in the pleasant sensations and the obvious care their companion had put into the arrangements for the night.

“Whatever could you be planning Mr Fell, dressing me up like this.” They turned this way and that, admiring the drape and cut of the old coat. “Feels almost like I should put some lippy on with this get-up,” they laughed to themself and snapped their fingers. Colour spread across their lips, a favourite shade of pillar-box red.

“Perfect!”

Crowley grabbed the books and walked out into the corridor, the soft sheepskin muffling all sound this time. They were puzzled by the message since there were no other floors to the bookshop.

“ALL the way upstairs, where on earth is that,” they said. At the end of the corridor a dim light glowed through a crack in the ceiling. Crowley peered up, brows knitting together in confusion. “Did the bookshop always have a loft?”

They coiled their hand around the short cord dangling from the backlit square and pulled. They jumped back as a hatch clattered open, dropping steps to the floor. The pull of curiosity tugged in Crowley’s mind, excitement rising to flutter in their stomach. They lept up the wobbly steps into the dim, dusty space filled with clothes rails and, incredibly, more books.

“Angel! Are you there?” Crowley called louder now.

“I’m out here darling!” Aziraphale’s voice filtered through from one side. Crowley picked their way between stacks of books and hat boxes to the dormer on the side of the room. A large window was opened outwards. Crowley stuck their head through the window with a confused expression. Outside, the flat section of roof looked out over the rooftops of Soho, and a pair of deckchairs.

“Aziraphale?”

“Ah, there you are my dear. Let me give you a hand, it's a bit of a step up.” The angel appeared in front of them and stretched out a neatly manicured hand. Crowley eagerly took his hand and stepped up into the window frame. Aziraphale pulled more than they expected and they stumbled upwards and into the angel’s strong arms. “Oh my, sorry about that Crowley, I didn’t mean to catch you off guard. I’m just quite glad to see you.” His eyes crinkled as he beamed down at the half-collapsed demon in his arms. Crowley felt their cheeks heat up suddenly and they swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

“Ngk, s’alright Angel,” their voice came out low. They scrambled to find their footing and pulled themself up to their full height, hanging their arms around the angel’s neck with a lopsided grin. “M’glad to see you too.” The angel’s eyes wandered to their red lips and Crowley saw him swallow, saw a blush peek above his shirt collar. Thousands of years they’d known each other and he still felt a flutter in their stomach like they had on the Wall, or even before, in that Time before the Earth, before the Fall.

Crowley tangled their fingers into the angel’s white hair, gently combing through the curls at the nape of his neck. They tilted their head, moving close to his ear, grazing the edge of it with their nose. The angel let out a ragged breath, which only made their blood run hotter in their veins. Slowly dragging down the helix of his ear, Crowley pressed their red lips to Aziraphale’s neck, drawing a soft moan from the angel. They could feel his pulse thumping against their mouth, quickening by the second. They slowly planted two more kisses, thrumming with a wanton tension that squeezed their lungs and balled up low and hot in their belly.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice was shaky as he slipped his hands onto the demon’s hips, under the coat. “Are you trying to tempt me dearest?”

“Didn’t think angels could be tempted, Aziraphale” Crowley smiled against his jaw, lifting their eyes up to sneak a look at his flustered face.

“Ah, hmm, well, technically you’re correct but..”

“Ah, well then, you see technically is the best kind of correct,” said Crowley, placing a light string of kisses along his jawline.

“Oh but you know fine well that I’m quite a bad angel, really,” Aziraphale whispered, his breath hitching at the touch of their lips.

“Ohh I know that very well Angel, in fact I think you’re the worst angel I’ve ever met.” Crowley ran their thumb down his jaw and around his chin, grazing his bottom lip with their painted nails. “S’what I like about you.”

Aziraphale lifted his eyes and when their gaze met Crowley smouldered. His hazel eyes had shifted from their usual grey-blue to a green shade, flecks of brown shining in the half-light. It felt like gazing up into the lush canopy of Eden. They bit their lip, desperate to lean in and feel those soft, full lips against theirs.

Suddenly, the angel rose on his toes and planted a sweet, chaste kiss on Crowley’s nose before pulling back and turning on his heel.

“Come now dear, the night is young as the humans say!” said Aziraphale merrily. Crowley stood mouth agape, staring after him. Unarticulate noises rose from their throat, fading to a petulant whine. Aziraphale looked over his shoulder and winked comically. “Like I said, I’m a very bad angel.”

“Aziraphale! You tease!” Crowley smirked and followed, still feeling like their bones had turned liquid.

“Umm, Crowley,” Aziraphale turned back around, “Your feet dear, I think you’re on fire!”

“Oh shit!” Crowley looked down to see the soles of their shoes glowing red, thin tendrils of smoke rising to their calves. They hopped from one foot to the other, trying to tamp down the embers, then closed their eyes and took several deep breaths as the heat dissipated.

“Is everything alright? I didn’t think the roof would pose any problems, it is part of the bookshop after all and you’ve been here since we opened it. Why in Heaven would this spot act like consecrated ground?” Aziraphale’s voice was worried and he fiddled with his ring.

“Ngk, how can you be so… It’s not the ground that caused it, Angel. It’s you!” said Crowley. Aziraphale looked puzzled before understanding spread across his face.

“Oh. Oh! You mean? Well!” He gazed at Crowley with a hungry look in his eyes and beckoned them over. “We’ll just have to see about cooling you down a little then, won’t we? Why don’t you take off that lovely coat for a moment? And what do you think of the clothes I put out for you?”

Crowley obliged, letting the fur slip down their arms and draping it over the nearest deckchair. They walked in a lazy loop around the chairs and the angel, showing off their fluid swagger, all swinging hips and arms.

“Be honest with you, at first I was a bit…” they waved their hand in a horizontal motion to indicate ‘so-so’. “But when it’s on? I love it. You know what Angel, I think in a few years time we’ll be seeing this all over the catwalks and Top Shop windows. Who’d of thought you could be so avant-garde,” they said teasingly.

Aziraphale beamed back at them, clearly happy to receive such praise.

“Thank you! I must say you look quite stunning in it. The neckline suits you very well…like that…” He trailed off distractedly and swallowed. Crowley felt another flush around their ears, took a breath to steady themself and clapped their hands together. Aziraphale jumped.

“Right then! Tell me Angel, what’s the plans for this evening? I know how much you like your plans” Crowley said and sidled up to the angel, placing a hand tenderly on his cheek. “Like you said, the night is young. There’ll be plenty of time for any unplanned things later.”

“You’re right, I do hate to waste a good plan,” Aziraphale said, waving his hands a little and smiling brightly. “Oh, did you bring the books?”

“Err, yeah,” Crowley looked over the angel’s velvet shoulder. “I must’ve dropped them look.” They shimmied loosely over to the window and picked up the books. They crooked their arm at the elbow as they turned, dangling them from a long finger by the ribbon.

“Jolly good, pop them on the table there dear then follow me.” The low table sat between the chairs, with two crocheted doilies laid out. They took the angel’s outstretched hand and followed the short distance across the small, odd-shaped balcony-roof. Aziraphale was wearing his usual garb, but with no jacket over his worn waistcoat and shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbows. Crowley secretly enjoyed when he did that; the strong, well-muscled forearms having no place on a person who spent so little time doing manual labour. But their angel had been a soldier, a warrior, led his own battalion no less. Their human forms clearly had some sort of muscle memory even after so many millenia.

Next to the wall, they found an odd little setup. Aziraphale fiddled with a contraption, his gramophone of all things, thought Crowley. They looked over the metal table in front of them, a wobbly-looking camping stove sat there with a heavy copper coffee pot balanced on top. The gas was turned down low. Next to it sat a silver tray with two mugs, teaspoons, and a round red tub the same size as the mugs. They looked up at the scratch of the needle on a record, soft beats bouncing out of the trumpet. They furrowed their eyebrows at the angel.

“Angel, is this?” Crowley started as Aziraphale turned towards them. “Is this…Blue Monday?!” They stared, mouth open in disbelief.

“It is! I got it for you from the record shop, I know you like them very much. The last time you went to see them in Manchester you hardly stopped talking about it for a month after.” The angel held up the record sleeve, the cut-outs resembling a floppy disk. He swayed a little from side to side, looking very pleased with himself.

“Oooh Aziraphale, you dark horse! One of the first pressings too.” Crowley grinned and swaggered over to the angel, plucking the sleeve from his fingers and replacing it carefully next to the gramophone. The music soared through them, making them feel giddy, turns out it didn’t take much. “Hell, I love the Hacienda. Those guys are geniuses.”

“So glad you like it darling!” said Aziraphale. He wriggled on the spot and Crowley reached out their hands, feeling their worries of demonic affairs slipping away with the pulse of the music and the touch of the angel’s palms in theirs.

“Dance with me, Angel?”

“I. I don’t really know how to dance to this…”

“If you say bebop I will throw you off this roof Angel.” They craned back, stretching their long lithe spine. Feeling Aziraphale’s hesitance they softened their voice. “Don’t worry Mr. Fell, it's easy. Just put your hands here and move around to the sound of the music, there’s no rules, you can move as much or as little as you want.” They guided his hands to their waist, a thrill shooting through them at the touch. Crowley reached up and felt the cool slither on their scalp as they pulled out the pencil, letting down their long scarlet tresses with a shake of their head. They felt the angel’s hot gaze on them as the curls spilled around their neck and shoulders.

How does it feel… to treat me like you do…

“Thassit, yeah. You keep going like that and I do… stuff like this…”

When you've laid your hands upon me… And told me who you are…

Crowley tossed their head back, swaying in time with the music. The chords thrummed through their body as they raised their arms above their head, twisting and bouncing languorously between their paramour’s hands. As the music crescendoed they felt the cool rush they still remembered from the old days, when they flew through the Universe with starlight in their wings.

But if it wasn't for your misfortune… I'd be a heavenly person today…

Aziraphale stilled on hearing the words. Crowley stepped closer to him and slipped their arms around his neck, pulling him tight against their chest.

“S’alright Angel, it's not about us,” they murmured in his ear.

Tell me, how do I feel… Tell me now, how should I feel…

Aziraphale squeezed them around the waist and it felt good. They hadn’t realised how much they’d needed this, needed him. The music faded out and they snapped their fingers, miracling the record back into its sleeve, replaced with some quiet Saint-Saens.

“You’ve no idea how much I appreciated that Angel,” they said. They felt his nose nuzzle into their neck, making them hum with pleasure as his short hair tickled their ear.

“I’m so glad. I’ve felt like things have been wearing you down recently, and what kind of angel would I be if I didn’t take care of those in need?” Aziraphale said coyly and pulled away. “Now, it's time for some…” he wiggled again, “hot chocolate!”

He rushed over to the stove, pulling Crowley by the hand.

“Hot chocolate? Angel, you spoil me!” said Crowley sarcastically, watching as Aziraphale lifted the copper pot and poured the steaming, chocolatey mixture into the mugs.

“And it's your favourite, the Bournville one,” Aziraphale said knowingly, handing over a large mug with a poorly printed image of Freddie Mercury on it. Crowley smiled wistfully on seeing it.

“Thank G…Satan, their purple one is far too sweet for me.”

“Mm, quite. Shall we sit?”

They moved to the chairs, both cradling their mugs. Crowley sank down into the canvas and tucked their feet up under them, warmth spreading through their fingers. Steam rose into their face as they blew softly on the surface. When they took a sip the silky liquid coated their tongue, the bite of bitter cocoa perfectly balancing the rich milk. They hummed in approval, meeting Aziraphale’s eyes over the top of the mug.

“I managed to get some of that delicious Jersey milk at the market today, that’s why it’s so nice.” Aziraphale arched an eyebrow. “Much better than that homogenised stuff you get these days.” Crowley twisted towards their companion and nodded in feigned agreement, amused at his angel’s seriousness over such things. But then they felt the same about music and clothes and wine didn’t they, so they couldn’t exactly grumble. The gentle rocking of the suspended canvas was soothing.

“S’lovely evening Angel, very kind of you.” Crowley reached out to brush the angel’s forearm.

“Oh, it’s not finished yet! Don’t you go falling asleep on me!” Aziraphale said affectionately. He met Crowley’s gaze, set down his mug and made a flourish with his hands. “I thought we might rather do a spot of…stargazing!” Crowley chuckled and started to protest, gesturing out at the cityscape.

“Angel, we live in the middle of London you can’t expect to see anything apart from the Moon with all that li…” Crowley heard a soft chime and saw patches of the city go dark, one after the other. They turned to the angel with lips pursed, wagging a finger. “You didn’t…”

“Oh, how strange! A line must have come down… in that one substation…that serves this whole side of London…” Aziraphale said flatly, the creases around his eyes betraying his amusement. Crowley felt their ribs protesting as they tried not to laugh, committing to the bit as they pointed accusingly across the small table.

“Bad Angel! That was very… naughty of you!” Crowley’s face finally gave way to a fit of giggles, dropping their head to their hand. Their shoulders heaved as they collapsed in laughter, Aziraphale joining in their mirth.

“Now, let’s enjoy it while it lasts.” Aziraphale wound his fingers around Crowley’s hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing each knuckle in turn.

Satan’s sake I might melt into a puddle if he doesn’t stop this soon, thought Crowley.

“Tonight is a quite special night you see, not just because of this,” he gestured at the rooftop, “but celestially as well. Look up, my dear.” He sat back, keeping a gentle hold of the demon’s hand.

Crowley lay back in the chair, which obediently slid into a comfortable reclining position. They looked up with golden eyes and gasped.

The sky was a deep blue-black, pinpointed with the brightest stars. The moon was a waxing crescent, low to the horizon now and close to setting. Some way above, a bright streak of white and blue. A brilliant smudge drawn lazily across the night, its long tail fanning out into traces of yellow and green. A ball of ice and cosmic dust slowly shedding its mass in a spectacular display. A squeeze of their hand brought Crowley’s attention back into their body and they realised they’d been holding their breath.

“It's…” they murmured, “it’s Halley’s Comet.”

“Mmhmm,” said Aziraphale.

“I’d forgotten. How could I forget? Wait…” they replied. They lifted their eyes up and concentrated. Their thoughts raced, times and speeds and the movements of celestial bodies all clamouring for a place in the equations running through their mind. “It’s April, isn’t it? April 11th. So it’s about what, 39, 40 million miles away? More or less. And today’s the closest it’ll be to Earth this time around.” They grinned excitedly.

“Did you know, Angel, that humans first recorded seeing it in 240 BC? It was in China, I was there you know. They didn’t know it at the time of course, didn’t figure it out for hundreds of years. Until Halley came along, d’you ever meet Ed?” The words fell out of them, exhilaration prickling their fingers and tingling through their scalp.

“No, never had the pleasure I’m afraid,” said Aziraphale tenderly.

“Nice bloke, curious, brilliant mathematician, few years younger than Newton. A bit arrogant,” they snorted, “went to make the first map of the Southern skies. As if all the people living in the Southern Hemisphere hadn’t been doing that for centuries. But he did have views about the Church, denied that the Earth was only as old as the Bible said. I mean he was wrong, obviously, we know that. But you’ve got to admire the gumption, ‘specially at that time.”

Aziraphale made encouraging noises, happily taking in the glee emanating from the demon. They sat for a long time, Crowley stringing together the minute details of short-period orbits and remembered scenes from their history chasing the comet around the world, revelling in the wonderment of humanity discovering the stars. Aziraphale listened intently, hanging off every word with a small smile.

Eventually, Crowley went quiet, all the nervous energy drained out of them. They felt heavy and let their arms drop to their belly. They felt a lump in their throat and heat in their face.

“I missed the last one, Angel,” their voice cracked, “I was asleep. Was just meant to be a nap after, you know, the Argument.” They closed their eyes, trying not to let the feeling overwhelm them. They heard the angel shuffling around and felt him against their shoulder. A broad, soft hand lightly turned over their own, fingers interlacing.

“Yes, I thought that might be the case dear. I couldn’t feel you around much at the time.” Aziraphale said in a soothing voice. “I did take some small liberties on this matter. I hope you won’t mind.” Crowley opened their eyes a crack, peering at the angel through damp lashes. His hair seemed to glow in the reflected light of the comet and the stars, like a halo. If a halo were made of soft white fluff.

Aziraphale reached over to the table’s new position, their chairs now cinched up next to each other, shoulder to shoulder. He silently passed one of the books to Crowley, his eyes were a deep blue now, reflecting the colour of the sky. His hand trembled minutely as Crowley took the book.

“Whas this Angel?” Crowley ran their hands over the old book. The fine leather was black with gold lettering that glittered in the faint light:

Observations of Halley’s Comet Throughout human history By Anthony J. Crowley Edited & annotated by A. Z. Fell

Crowley's mouth dropped as they opened the tome. They felt a sharp pull in their chest as they leafed through the pages. The book was filled with sketches and quotes, each carefully numbered with the year of the comet’s passing. Many of them were Crowley’s own, scraps of parchment they hadn’t held onto after the fact. A few were made by human hand. One of them was a rubbing of the Babylonian tablets they recognised from the British Museum. And some of them were beautifully made, full-page drawings of Crowley. One of them wearing a toga, the comet in the background, adorned with a quote from Cassius ‘a very fearful star’. Another of them in dark, heavy armour in 1066, the comet rising above a stylised battlefield in the background. On the final filled page, simply annotated ‘1910’, was an intricate sketch of the comet’s nucleus and tail; and on the facing page, a photograph. The first one of the book. There were a lot of blank pages after it.

Crowley’s heart beat wildly against their ribs, their whole being ached with longing and the strange pang of being known. They snapped the cover shut, two drops falling to the surface. Gentle fingers brushed their ear and they twisted into the angel’s hand. The pad of his thumb caressed their cheekbone, skimming away the tears that silently strolled over their skin. The angel’s gaze held a look of total adoration, his eyes shining with tears of his own.

“Aziraphale…” Crowley said, voice low. They shifted, letting the angel’s hand guide them closer until they could see the starlight dancing in his eyes. Those searching eyes, laying their soul bare. “Why?” The angel took a slow breath, touching his bottom lip to his teeth.

“For love, Crowley.”

Aziraphale leaned forward, capturing their breath in a kiss. Crowley’s mind went blank. Behind their eyes, stars and comets swirled around the Sun, but the Sun was Aziraphale. His lips were warm and welcoming, and his curls between their fingers felt like the softest thing they’d ever touched. His hands cradled their face, and Crowley sighed when he pulled away; only to hum contentedly when the angel placed a kiss on each of their closed eyelids, light as butterflies. The demon opened their liquid gold eyes and felt like they were Falling again, only this time into the cool, deep pools of their beloveds’. And in that perfect moment, Crowley felt the most accepted, most loved, and most Crowley they had ever felt in their whole existence.

“For love, Angel.”

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