sauntereddownward | Valentine's Day Romance

Valentine's Day Romance

Crowley had made a vow to learn all he could about wooing Aziraphale properly. He'd read a few paperback romances, then had found a world of ebooks with romance of every flavor. And then he'd gone online to find more ebooks and Crowley had found a miraculous new world of something called Fan Fiction. It was remarkable. He devoured it. He had no idea who most of the characters were, so they were just lovely stories.

Stories with...trends. Crowley quickly picked up on how these stories were written. Certain elements recurred, certain things were important.

And over the weeks, Crowley carefully crafted a plan and when Valentine's Day, the most holy day for love, came round, he barged into Aziraphale's room at sunrise and flung the curtains open.

Rose petals appeared and fluttered down on him.

"You need to get up. I have a plan," he said.

Romance got directly to the point, he had learned. If it didn't get directly to the point then it was called slow burn, and, in Crowley's opinion, they'd already done that bit.

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As they headed in, it occurred to him that Crowley could fix the car, couldn't he? But maybe he didn't want to use magic, he was so particular about that car.

He went to the little cafe and ordered tea, then spent a moment fussing over it to get it just right before walking out to Crowley and handing him one of the cups. "Do they have rooms?" he asked hopefully.

"They had one for us," he said, figuring the truth was more damning...and also certain Aziraphale would believe him even if it had been a lie.

"Come along."

Aziraphale wasn't sure why sharing a hotel room somehow felt so much more scandalous than simply sharing one or the other's bed, which they'd certainly done a number of times now, simply falling asleep together, and kissing, and sometimes... other things.

"All right," he said, only a bit apprehensive, and followed along.

The room was charming. Each room in the hotel had different decor, and this one was quite cozy with the antique woods and quilts.

On the bed.

The one bed.

And outside lightning crashed and thunder struck.

Crowley could not be more pleased.

"This is...nice," he noted.

Aziraphale jumped slightly at the thunder. "Oh - yes, this is just fine. Bit of a small bed I suppose, but... I assume you don't mind sharing?" He sounded a little unsure.

"I could complain. But she said this is the only room..." he said tempting.

"I'm sure we can make it work."

"Oh of course," said Aziraphale. "Completely fine." He sat down in a chair so that he could drink his tea, which of course was still piping hot. "Better than being outside in the storm. Oh, is that a fire place?"

Crowley had no idea if it actually worked or not, but with a minor miracle a cheerful little fire ignited.

"Quaint," he said, a bit distastefully. And then he took the seat next to Aziraphale and took his tea.

"Oh, you kept it hot," he smiled, a little surprised. He shouldn't be. Aziraphale was the kindest, most thoughtful, most Good thing he knew. Of course he kept the tea hot.

"I couldn't let you drink cold tea, my dear," Aziraphale said, and crossed his legs as he took a sip.

The room warmed with the fire as the wind howled and rain pounded the window panes.

"Particularly nasty weather," he mumbled, so badly in fact he could have plausibly said 'tickle your ass with a feather'.

And then the power cut out.

"Oh my!" gasped Aziraphale, and tried to see Crowley in the light of the fire.

The way the light of the flames danced in his auburn hair made him look impossibly youthful. Crowley wasn't ugly by any means. He'd once been an angel. Not as beautiful as Aziraphale, but he'd say he was a solid 'not bad'.

The angel in the firelight, though, it made his heart sing. It made his chest want to burst.

Thunder boomed again as a white flash lit the room.

"It's just a storm," he said. "Remember that first storm?"

Aziraphale meanwhile was thinking how Crowley's hair glowed in the firelight. Like flames, but Crowley.

Aziraphale jumped a little at the thunder, and the movement sent him closer to Crowley. He relaxed. "I do," he said softly. "Your hair was getting wet."

"We've seen a few storms in our time, hmm?" he purred, leaning in as close as he could get to Aziraphale.

It's not like it was actually raining inside, but for some reason Aziraphale opened his wings and held one over Crowley.

Crowley looked up and smiled a bit to himself.

He was truly a genius.

"You like to read, angel," he said. "What do you think is the greatest love story ever told?"

"Mmmm." Aziraphale considered this. "I like Pride and Prejudice."

"False!" he declared loudly.

Another flash and boom.

"I mean the greatest."

Aziraphale frowned. "For God so loved the world?"

"Love story, angel, not dogma," Crowley sighed. "The greatest love story of all time is clearly enemies-to-lovers-with-just-one-bed-trapped-in-weather-cozycore-true-love. My word, it's like you've never read anything at all."

The fire crackled merrily.

"Elizabeth and Darcy were enemies to lovers...' mumbled Aziraphale absently as he thought about the rest of it. One bed, trapped in the weather... "Well that's a coincidence," he said as he looked out the window.

"Yes, yes. It took Darcy time to love ardently," Crowley nodded. He looked pointedly at Aziraphale. "He got there eventually, though."

Aziraphale looked thoughtful. "Yes," he said. Pause. "Wait, are you Darcy?"

"Are you Elizabeth?" he asked, arching a brow.

"I..." Aziraphale blushed. "I suppose there wasn't a scene with a storm and a hotel room."

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