Ineffable

Syria

The grimy light of an early winter morning filtered in through the north window of Aziraphale's small bedroom. Crowley yawned and stretched, then sat up in the warm tangle of bedclothes, his head against the wall. He felt unwound, relaxed from sleepy but satisfying morning sex.

Aziraphale entered the room, freshly showered, wrapped in a towel. He started bustling about, dressing, pulling on pants and trousers, going through his shirts.

"Where're you off to, angel?" Crowley asked lazily.

"Oh goodness me, didn't I mention it?" said Aziraphale, buttoning a crisp, pale pink shirt. "I'm heading over to the International Solar Convention. It's in London this year." He looked over his tie rack critically, a little line of concentration between his eyebrows.

"Solar convention?"

"Oh my, yes! It's quite exciting. Massive strides are being made every year. Did you know that the newest solar panel designs have increased efficiency by 50 per cent? And the price of solar panels has really plummeted. It's actually cheaper per megawatt to build a solar farm than to build a coal powered plant. And there's all sorts of new things going on in solar water purification systems and storage devices." He selected two ties and brought them over to Crowley. "Which do you think?" he asked.

Crowley considered. "The blue," he said. "Brings out your eyes."

"This past summer, California was producing so much solar power they had to shut down the hydroelectric dams or risk overloading the grid," Aziraphale continued as he went back to the mirror and started tying the blue tie. "And then if you factor in the rising sales of electric vehicles.....My word, if this kind of progress keeps up, there's a good chance global warming will be reversed. It's fantastic, really. The most optimistic news for my side in a long time."

"Really, angel? Well, good. Honestly, anything that keeps the world from self-destructing is good news in my book. Don't want another Armageddon, now, do we? Not any time soon, at any rate."

Aziraphale selected a white silk jacket and slipped it on, buttoned it up, shot his cuffs. He looked himself over in the glass. He frowned at his reflection, smoothed his eyebrows. He looked absolutely glorious.

"You should come with," he said. "You might find it interesting."

"I might angel, I really might," said Crowley. "But I've got to be at the annual Flat Earthers Convention this morning. I'm the keynote speaker, can't get out of that. Then there's a big Brexit meeting this afternoon, and I'd be missed, I really would. It'd be noticed you see, the home office is paying a lot of attention to those talks. I need to at least put in an appearance."

"The wages of sin," said Aziraphale, a bit sniffily.

"Yes, exactly."

"Don't forget the opera tonight."

"Carmen," replied Crowley, with a wry smile. Opera wasn't really his thing, but he had agreed to go to please Aziraphale.

Aziraphale walked over and brushed his lips over Crowley's. Crowley felt the smoothness of his freshly shaved cheek against his own rough one. The angel snaked a hand under the covers and stroked Crowey's thigh, a naughty smile playing over his face. Crowley swallowed hard, and ran his hand through Aziraphale's soft golden curls.

"I'll be there," he said, hoarsely.

"Good," said the angel. "See that you are!" He gave Crowley's thigh a firm possessive squeeze and left the room briskly, leaving a scent of lavender and lemon balm behind him.

********

Crowley left the bookshop with a sense of well being. He was quite satisfied with the way things were going. Perhaps he could get away without making an actual declaration of his feelings, he mused. He was basically getting what he wanted; quiet dinners, regular sex, little outings, Aziraphale waking up in the morning, nestled in his arms and turning to smile at him. Perhaps this was enough, at least for now. After all, they had all of eternity to work it out.