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[goodtobebad]

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[goodtobebad]

Crowley shivers and presses himself closer, those touches right where he likes them best, the angel always knows where he likes being touched.

"Mm, good, always want you to feel that way," he murmurs around the kiss. "'s the least I can do."

[salutosinedelectat]

He should know. He makes a mental note every time he finds one. He's very dutiful like that.

"You do plenty, my love." Murmuring right back, lips just hovering over while he speaks. "I've never felt this way before."

[goodtobebad]

"Me neither," Crowley admits. "Didn't think it'd ever be possible."

[salutosinedelectat]

Another kiss. And one under his eye, and another one on his forehead.

"And yet, here we are." He rests his head back to look at his demon again, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone.

[goodtobebad]

"Yeah," he murmurs. "It's real." He brushes a finger over Aziraphale's lips lightly. "Love you."

[salutosinedelectat]

He presses a light kiss on the demon's finger. "I love you too, dear. Very much so."

[goodtobebad]

"All right," Crowley says, happy as anything but as usual trying not to show it. Hmph.

"Still need a nap before we have another go," he adds, nuzzling into the angel's chest.

[salutosinedelectat]

Much as he's learned to do, and learned he rather appreciates doing, the angel wraps his arms around Crowley and rests a hand on the back of the demon's neck, brushing his thumb over the hair there.

"Very well, dear." He hums, gently amused, pulling his wings in and wrapping them over the demon's back and legs. "We should think about dinner plans for later."

[goodtobebad]

"Mm," Crowley mumbles comfortably. "Whatever you wanna do, you know that."

[salutosinedelectat]

He does know that. But it's polite to ask.

"Perhaps we could go to this new Korean restaurant up near The Regent's Park." He keeps tracing little circles on the back of Crowley's neck. "I hear they make some outstanding kimchi."

[goodtobebad]

"Mm, kimchi," Crowley mumbles vaguely. "Sounds good, angel."

[salutosinedelectat]

Let it be known that the angel has long been aware of just how easily the demon is lulled to sleep by pointless banter when they're together all snug like this.

"There's also a new Indian restaurant in Mayfair, I've heard good things. Oh, and we could stop in that lovely little bakery and pick up some macarons..."

[goodtobebad]

When Crowley is in the post-coital haze, Aziraphale could probably talk about a zombie apocalypse and he'd do little more than mutter, "sure, angel" in response.

Food is fine. Crowley knows Aziraphale loves to talk about food, and he's happy to let Aziraphale talk about whatever he likes, at length - Aziraphale's voice and body are safe, and comfortable, and loving, and he's happy.

"Sure, love," he mumbles now. "Anything you like."

The funny part is, he may only be half-listening to this, but then randomly in a couple of weeks Crowley will make it a point to stop off at that bakery and bring home macarons for the angel, for no reason other than he likes to give him things. The specific details of this conversation may be unimportant, and passing him by, but that by no means indicates he's not paying attention.

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale doesn't mind that he's half listening. Besides knowing the effects it tends to have on the demon in times like this, he's well used to just rambling away about any given interest. It may not exactly be a talent, but he's happy enough to indulge.

Besides, the demon usually does seem to at least get the gist of things, so the angel doesn't usually ever feel ignored. They have a good thing going, there.

He looks down at the demon, regarding him for a moment, for no reason besides the comfort and affection. He brings a hand up to brush some errant hairs from his forehead and leans down to kiss his head.

"Dinner it is, then."