sauntereddownward | (no subject)

(no subject)

The next morning dawned, bright and fresh as the first dawn and every dawn thereafter. Crowley took note of the sunlight. There had been no sunlight in the basket, no need to rouse even a smidgen while he'd been trapped. But now the light indicated creation.

It wasn't enough to get him to open his eyes, but he did become quite aware that this was a bed. A delightfully comfortable bed, warm and soft, and the warmth that made the demon gravitate to it and ease in tight against it was solid and familiar and safe.

All he'd wanted since the day he'd watched Aziraphale leave.

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And Aziraphale woke to the sensation of a body pressed up against him. Which was most certainly very new for him. And he thought... perhaps he... liked it? But still, he moved away as soon as he was fully awake.

"Ah, good morning," he said, as he climbed out of the bed.

Crowley...did not rise. In fact, he took full advantage of Aziraphale's vacancy and sprawled out across the whole bed, the satin pajamas clinging to his shape.

"It's definitely a morning," he said.

Aziraphale glanced over, and saw the silk clinging to Crowley's skin...

... and looked away again.

"What do you have to do today?" he asked, as he made a gesture and his tartan pajamas became his typical clothes.

"I imagine I should try to find a new flat," he sighed heavily.

He didn't relish the thought.

"I mean... you can stay here for as long as you need, before you do," Aziraphale said awkwardly.

"That's...kind of you, angel," he said.

Crowley slowly sat up.

"You've really come back?"

"I mean, I'm... here," Aziraphale said, still just as awkwardly, and slipped on his shoes.

"But are you staying?" the demon asked, trying to sound casual and not at all desperate.

“For the time being, I suppose,” said Aziraphale, not looking at him. “The shop needs some upkeep.”

"I see," he said.

Crowley didn't believe him a bit, which was terribly odd. Generally he believed little but Aziraphale.

Everything that Aziraphale said was true, of course, but he did not particularly want to talk to Crowley about the things that he wasn't saying.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked, having finished putting on his shoes and now fully dressed.

"Yes," he nodded, his own silk pajamas replaced with a smart black suit.

He cast a glance at the bed, which immediately thought to tidy itself.

He paused.

"How long has it been?" he asked, glancing out the window to the street below that was unlike what he remembered.

"I'm not sure actually," Aziraphale said quietly. "I mean, how long you were in there. I came as soon as I - "

He stopped himself. "We can go explore if you like. I haven't been down in a while myself. Though I find it depressing how few books there are in the world."

"A good idea," he said. "Just like old times. And older times. And olden times..."

He smiled to himself at his clever little joke.

Crowley knew he wanted very much to be cross. Very cross. He wanted to be terribly crocs and wounded.

But it was simply so Nice to have the angel back.

"Well all right then," said Aziraphale, relaxing a bit. He was glad Crowley was not yelling at him. He was also still trying very hard not to think about the last time they spoke. And... kissed.

"Breakfast?"

"What's on the menu?" he asked, which was a clear yes as he followed Aziraphale to the kitchen for tea and food.

"Oh I actually thought we might go out," Aziraphale said, though he did start making tea anyway.

It was remarkable, the way the angel could tempt the demon with almost no effort.

Crowley perked up.

"The Ritz?" he asked hopefully?

"Yes please," said Aziraphale happily, perking up as well. "That would be just lovely. It's been so long."

Once they ventured out of the shop and through the streets, Crowley began to have serious concerns that The Ritz still stood. And yet, there she was in all her glory, the same as always.

"Looks right," he said.

"I doubt Giancarlo is still alive, don't you think? A fresh staff to confuse," he smiled

"Oh, I can't imagine any of the staff remain," Aziraphale said. "I do rather hope that there are still humans in the kitchen though, it seems as if robots have taken over much of the service industry...."

"Robots? Cooking?"

Crowley's nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Unholy."

Aziraphale flinched visibly at the word. "Well. I'm afraid you're not going to like the world we're in very much if that bothers you."

"Oh, my," Crowley replied quietly.

He wondered where that basket had gotten too...

The dining room was much the same. Newer decor in the same classic style. The maitre'd was pleased to give them their usual table, though he wasn't aware of that, and the wine needed a bit of convincing to be up to snuff- all normal.

Like coming home from a long trip.

"To the Ritz," Crowley said, lifting his glass.

It did feel like coming home. And it made Aziraphale wonder... if he'd made the wrong decision all those many years ago. Was it worth it? What had he given up?

"Yes indeed," he said quietly, and toasted before taking a drink. The people at the table next to them were looking at them oddly, probably because of the wine for breakfast, but Aziraphale hadn't complained about Crowley's order.