How to date an angel

Little Habitat

Dinner had been rather awkward yesterday. Aziraphale did not dare to mention that "Angel" is a popular pet name and Crowley could not stop blushing and didn't say much at all. Still thinking about how much he liked it when Crowley called him Angel, how it make his stomach turn upside down with an exiting tingle, even after 6000 years, how each time he had to focus not to blush, he opened the door to his bookshop.
He was still amazed by how fast they managed to repair everything. And even though they did wonder a lot, it didn't feel wrong to Aziraphale, that mostly being the case because Crowley did the majority of the wonders. It felt even better, but he was reluctant to admit that.
He was a demon, after all, and he would not love an angel. It felt better for different reasons, he hoped. Or was hoping that it did actually feel better because Crowley wondered with love.

The other day, a little note fell out of Crowleys pocket when he was reaching up to grab a book. It reminded Aziraphale slightly of the one he gave him in St. James's Park decades ago.
The note read "Date?".
Aziraphale frowned, hoping that Crowley did not see. Maybe the note was for him... But how unlikely was that. He figured that he probably had someone else to woo. But then again he was wondering why Crowley would note something down. He never did that, not even once, and why loose his note in his bookshop. That was one coincidence too much, so he decided not to worry about it too much and just wondered the note back into Crowleys pocket.
They didn't speak about it.

Absent-mindedly, he put a few books he was balancing in one hand down on a table nearby and would have just gone on as he did, but a small annoyed hiss let him stop his actions. On his table, still asleep but a little bit crushed under his books (Aziraphale instantly felt sorry, it looked uncomfortable), laid a small black snake, curled together. It hissed almost silently as if it was snoring, and Aziraphales heart melted on the spot. He swooned as he looked at Crowley, who apparently felt safe enough in his bookshop to turn into his snake form. This was the biggest proof of trust that Aziraphale did ever hope fore, and it made him happier than he expected.
He stroked the back of the tiny snake with his finger, testing if he was still sleeping. The silent hissing continued. Aziraphale, following a sudden intuition, leaned in and gave the snake a small kiss on the forehead. Crowley hissed, this time louder and happily, and began to uncurl his snake body.
Embarrassed, Aziraphale took a step back and cowered his mouth in an attempt to hide what he just did. A small "plop", and Crowley was sitting on his desk, still a bit sleepy.

"Oh, don't worry, you didn't wake me up!", he said, reassuring and worried at the same time – Aziraphale must have looked as if he had seen a ghost.

"Well, thank you, my dear. I didn't- How- You-", he stammered. Apparently, he lost his ability to speak like a normal person (or a normal angel, in that case). He gathered his thoughts and tried again: "What a pleasant surprise! What are you doing here, my dear?"

Crowley shrugged and straightened his clothes, wrinkled from sleeping.
"Don't know, really. Just thought I'd stop by. You weren't here, so I waited.", he said.

"For how long have you been here?", asked Aziraphale.

Crowley opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.
"Ah well, few hours, maybe. Not sure..."

Aziraphale had been suspecting that Crowley was sleeping in his bookshop when he wasn't there (or even when he was) for a while, now he had proof. He felt flattered, and his eyes lit up full of love.

For this occasion, he made a present. He did it all by himself, no wonders, only his hands (which was harder than he imagined, but he wanted to fill it up with his love, and that he could only achieve without wonders).

"Oh Crowley, dear, would you wait a minute?"

Crowley stood in tiredness and slight confusion and said nothing. Aziraphale was not able to describe the face of the demon when he came back, but it was a lovely sight.
He handed him his present, and watched with delight. Crowley looked at him, his lips a bright smile, looked down on the present, up, down.In his hands, he was holding a little habitat for a snake. Aziraphale had made it as cosy as possible, he even put a picture inside.

"Oh, that's us, Angel!", Crowley said. "Where did you get that?"

"I just happen to have it."

In fact, Aziraphale stole all the pictures that Michael took of them and hid them in his coat. But Crowley didn't need to know that.

"And you even made a bed, how cute is that!"

Never before did Aziraphale hear Crowley use the word "cute", and it was adorable.
But what he did adore even more was Crowleys smile, big, his mouth open wide, wrinkles around his eyes, his teeth shimmering in the dimmed light.
He only did see that smile once before, when Crowley was watching him holding a fake gun before the paint-ball massacre (as he liked to call it).
Before he could say something, Crowley literally jumped onto Crowley, wrapped his whole body around him and held him so tightly that he almost couldn't breathe. Aziraphale thought that suffocating was worth being hugged by Crowley. But it wasn't a hug, really, it was more a desperate cling, passionate (Aziraphale was able to sense passion, he just never told Crowley – and he didn't intend to do it now).
Carefully, he leaned into the hug, putting one hand on Crowleys neck, feeling his neck. It was the first time that he was being touched in more than a decade.
Neither of them wanted to let go, but when they finally did, Aziraphale was more than flustered. He tried to hide it by fixing his hair, which didn't need fixing. Crowley rested a hand on his shoulder and smiled like a snake.

"Should we have lunch? And I thought we could get some grapes on the way..."