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It was dreadfully dark. The weather on the outside was, frankly speaking, atrocious, and the heavy rain was only drowned out by the howling wind. It was fairly obvious by now that Crowley would stay overnight, though he wasn’t sure if it could still be called ‘staying overnight,’ if he practically lived there. Either way, he was perfectly happy with that, and so was Aziraphale.
Crowley was slightly tipsy from all the wine they had drunk. He was sprawling over the sofa, putting his head on the angel’s thighs, allowing him to idly play with his hair.
They had been talking about something, but they had trailed off quite some time ago. The slightly muted sound of the rain outside, and the dimmed lighting in the room was just adding to that cosy, quiet atmosphere, where nothing needed to be said, and where they could just be together in a companionable silence.
But then they somehow started talking about plants. Or it was mostly Crowley doing the talking, as he was, of course, much more knowledgeable when it came to that topic. He was talking about some specific plant species and its usefulness – or maybe it was uselessness. Aziraphale really couldn’t tell. And by the end of Crowley’s little rant about leaf spots, he was only partly present there with his thoughts.
“Yeah, serves them about right for not blooming when they should have.” That apparently was the conclusion, and probably also the summary of everything Crowley had said.
“You know, dear, I don’t think I have ever heard you say anything positive regarding your plants, even though they are so beautiful.”
“Don’t say that.” He hissed.
“Oh please, you can’t just ban me from complimenting them. Especially given the fact that they’re not here. They can’t ‘hear’ anything.”
“Still, believe me, it’s better not to praise them in any way.” He spat out the word ‘praise’ as if it burnt his tongue, and the angel just rolled his eyes.
“You really are ridiculous, dear.” Aziraphale saw the demon’s lips had curled up a bit, so he decided it was safe to tease him some more. “Which one is your favourite?”
“I can’t have a favourite one because I don’t actually like them. I just… discipline them.” His eyes wandered to the side, and Aziraphale’s smile just widened.
“Crowley, you can lie to yourself all you want, but you can’t fool me.”
“Fine.” He drawled. “It’s the marijuana plant at the back of the room.” That was not true, as he didn’t even own one, but still, that impossible smugness appeared on his face as he grinned, possibly thinking such an answer would scare the angel off a bit.
“Oh, so you’ve tried it? Marijuana, I mean.” He seemed completely unmoved, which rather caught the demon off-guard.
“I dabbled, some time in the ‘60s. It used to be pretty popular back then.” He replied. “What about you?” That question was only a matter of enough politeness required to keep the conversation going. Surely there was no way the angel could-
“I’ve indulged a few times.” His tone was completely casual, and he chose to ignore the shocked look Crowley had shot him.
“What!?” There was a particular mixture of fascination and incredulity to that question.
“Well, yes. I don’t exactly understand why you’re acting so surprised.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I’m just having a hard time wrapping my mind around the thought that at some point in history it was possible to see you high, and I completely missed that opportunity.” The demon pouted.
“Perhaps we should smoke together some day, then.” He offered, without giving much thought to it. Though it probably wasn’t even an actual offer. It must have been something more along the lines of ‘an abstract idea to only entertain on a hypothetical level’. He then smoothly changed the subject, starting to prattle about something completely unrelated to anything that had been said. And Crowley couldn’t believe that, his whole view on Aziraphale was turned upside down for a hot second before he managed to sort it out. But in hindsight, he should have seen that coming - given how much of a hedonist Aziraphale was.
That whole concept seemed to stubbornly stick to him, though. The prospect of just getting stoned together – it was too tempting. Oh, he absolutely needed to orchestrate it.
There were – thankfully – no customers in the bookshop, and Aziraphale was working on a pile of books. It wasn’t really hard work - they just needed to be categorised and put in the correct sections. Nevertheless, he had procrastinated on it a bit, and decided he was willing to continue doing so as soon as Crowley walked – or rather burst – into the bookshop.
“Guess what. You’re closing early today.”
“Oh?” He didn’t really do a good job hiding how pleased he was with that. “And what’s the occasion?”
“Please, we both know you’d rather fight a customer with a flaming sword than actually let them buy any of these books.” The demon was acting… strange. He had this upbeat energy to him that Aziraphale – or really anyone else for that matter – could hardly ever see. “Anyway, I got us weed.” He took a small bag out of the pocket of his jacket.
For some reason, Aziraphale found that situation so absurdly bizarre, he was speechless, and it took him a moment to shake off that feeling.
“We talked about it like a week ago.” Crowley said, noticing the confusion along with some hesitation in the angel’s eyes.
“Yes, right.” He only vaguely remembered that conversation at all. “I just didn’t think you’d get it that quickly.” If he were to be honest, it had been more of a joke, something that wasn’t really supposed to happen, or something that could only potentially happen in some unforeseeable future. But after a brief consideration, and Crowley’s visibly pleading look, he simply gave in. After all, he wasn’t opposed to the idea, he just hadn’t exactly expected it.
“So, do you want to do it?”
“Well, yes, I suppose. I think it’ll be rather lovely.” Honestly, how could he say ‘no’? Crowley rarely got quite so excited about anything, and seeing him like that was a treat in itself. But smoking pot together? That seemed like an incredibly attractive option – especially compared to his previous plans involving categorising a bunch of stuff.
“Great.” He leapt through the room and sat on the sofa, putting everything on the coffee table. “I used to be really good at rolling joints, we’ll see if I still got the skills.” Aziraphale honestly tried not to laugh but, Lord, was it just absurd.
“Do you want me to mix it with tobacco?”
“No, I don’t like the way it scratches my throat.”
“Alright, just give me a minute.”
The view was positively – but perhaps also sinfully – enticing. The gentleness, the finesse with which he was handling all of that – mesmerising. The way in which he licked the rolling paper made Aziraphale swoon. He had possibly never seen him so focused on anything before.
“Okay, I’m done.” The smug didn’t disappear from his face and, frankly, he earned it – there were two very neatly-rolled joints lying on the table.
“Are you sure we need two of these? They seem quite big.”
“They’re normal, trust me.”
“That seems like a lot. Dear, if I understood correctly, we both haven’t smoked in years.”
“Well, yeah. But we’re, you know, occult, ethereal. I figured we might need a little boost, so to speak. But for my money, these will do the trick.”
“From what I remember, the same amount of marijuana humans smoked, used to work pretty well for me, too.” Now that Crowley thought about it, he actually had similar experiences.
“It’ll be fine.” He shrugged. “Here.” Aziraphale took the joint the demon had just handed him, and he had to admit, even though he had been unsure about it at first, he was pretty much completely convinced now. But he couldn’t stop thinking about how silly all of that was.
They miracled an ashtray because Crowley would probably never hear the end of Aziraphale’s lamenting if even the tiniest piece of ash touched his furniture.
The demon lit his joint with the tip of his finger, which only made Aziraphale huff. He chose a good old-fashioned lighter.
“Fuck, I forgot how much I hated the taste of weed.” Crowley groaned, and coughed a few times. The angel was doing significantly better than him.
It was oddly quiet, and a wisp of smoke was sullying the air. Both of them still had over a half left, but it was already beginning to feel different.
Crowley could feel the corners of his lips lift up a bit.
“Did it work?” He asked, now grinning dumbly.
Aziraphale answered with a two-second delay. “Oh, I believe so. Everything’s spinning, but sort of… vertically? Is ‘vertically’ even a word?” He was completely lost in thought.
“What?” An uncontrollable laughter escaped his mouth. “Shit, you’re so high.”
“Well, doesn’t your view…” He trailed off, forgetting the word he was going to use, and making a circular gesture with his hand instead. “Doesn’t it spin?” He managed, and took another puff.
“Nah, for me, it just kinda jumps from right to left. And I’m pretty sure I can see more dimensions than just the usual three.”
Aziraphale gasped. “And I’m the one stoned out of his mind?” He chuckled fondly and, for the first time since they’d started smoking, he actually looked at Crowley, and oh, Lord…
The demon looked at Aziraphale with something oscillating between amusement and admiration. The angel’s expression was just so totally relaxed. His lips were curled up slightly, emphasizing his cheeks, and making him look straight up adorable. Crowley regretted he didn’t have his sunglasses because, judging by Aziraphale’s heavy-lidded eyes, he probably wasn’t looking very presentable either.
And he was completely right. The redness around the yellow irises was making him look like a snake with a pink eye – Aziraphale thought, and giggled softly.
They actually smoked the whole things down to the filter and, frankly speaking, they were having the time of their lives.
Crowley got very talkative, but Aziraphale was far more focused on the physical aspects. The demon didn’t seem to mind that Aziraphale didn’t necessarily follow his monologue concerning almonds and time travel, as his sentences weren’t too cohesive anyway. So, the angel didn’t even attempt to pay attention. Instead, he tried to concentrate on the wonderful weight of Crowley’s arm embracing him, on the heat radiating from him but, really, concentrating on anything felt nearly impossible. Either way, Aziraphale took great joy in simply being held by the demon. He couldn’t stop marvelling at the strange sensation of connection, kind of linking them together, palpable everywhere their skin was touching.
Crowley kept talking and, to Aziraphale, it sounded like some white noise, merely a background to everything he was feeling and, at that point, it could have probably been called a sensory overload. All his nerves were on fire, and he could feel his muscles tighten involuntarily.
He sat up straight, looking at the demon vividly wave his hands in the air, now talking about… the French prime minister? It was honestly hard to tell, as he was jumping back and forth between different, unrelated subjects. But a moment later, he mentioned something about archangels, for some reason, and Aziraphale’s mind somehow randomly came up with an image of Gabriel as a French prime minister, with the Eiffel Tower and everything, and he just burst out laughing.
Crowley started giggling too, but it wasn’t exactly clear why, as Aziraphale never actually told him what was so funny. He wanted to, but he forgot it before he was even able to take a breath to start explaining it.
Aziraphale had never seen such a fond expression on Crowley’s face before. He would even risk saying it was a beam. Quite a wide one, in fact.
“Angel, you’ve been staring at my lips for like half a minute.” Now the smile morphed into a slightly more familiar cheeky grin. “If you want to kiss me, just say so.”
And he did. Their mouths connected in an awfully sloppy kiss, and the sensation turned out to be rather unexpected, to say the least. The kiss was extremely short, dry and, in general terms, weird. The very first moment, they appeared to be a little startled, only to dissolve into laughter once more right after.
Aziraphale frowned. “You know, dear, I sort of feel like… empty?”
“You’re hungry.” Crowley miracled a bag of crisps.
“You shouldn’t do that in that state! Miracles, that is. You could accidentally… stop the time or something, and you wouldn’t even know.”
The demon waved the bag in front of Aziraphale’s face. “Do you want it or not?” And the angel just reached for it with a sheepish smile. “That’s what I thought.”
The texture was odd, but it tasted heavenly, and Aziraphale made sure to appreciate it – even more vocally than he does sober. It was driving Crowley crazy, and he seriously thought he was not going to survive when he looked at Aziraphale and saw him suck his fingers clean. And the angel didn’t even notice. That’s how focused he was on the rich flavour of various spices. Crowley briefly wondered if maybe he should cover himself in spices some time.
The angel apparently was ready to torture him some more. “To be perfectly honest, I’m still hungry.”
“Yeah, same here. So, what are you in the mood for?” He asked, ready to snap his fingers at any moment.
“Ah, that’s a very good question.” He definitely put way more thought into it than it was actually necessary. “Oh, I think I’ve got just the thing!”
A plate of salmon nigiri from his favourite sushi restaurant appeared in front of them, along with a small cup of soy sauce.
“I think they’ll hardly even notice.”
“Fuck, you’re incorrigible.” He grinned. “You forgot the chopsticks, though.”
“Oh, that’s right. But I am not stealing from that lovely restaurant again.”
“Well,” he drew the ‘e’ out. “I don’t think it really counts as stealing.”
Aziraphale looked him dead in the eye, with a nigiri already in his hand. “No chopsticks, dear.” And turned out that not only did sushi taste way better without the proper equipment, but the sight of the angel also seemed to be even more captivating.
“This has no right to taste as good as it does. I don’t even like sushi.” Crowley declared in disbelief, and with his mouth full, but the angel was too absorbed to even point out to him that it’s impolite to talk while chewing.
When he was done, he willed his hands clean, yawned and, suddenly feeling a bit dizzy, realised they were in Aziraphale’s bedroom now. The angel didn’t really sleep, so the room was actually mostly used by Crowley, or sometimes by them both together.
“Hey, easy with the miracles, angel. You’re sure you didn’t ‘accidentally stop the time or something?’” He scoffed.
“Well, I should hope so.” Crowley could bet the angel actually checked, just to be sure. “You yawned and, er, I thought you might want to go to sleep.”
“I am a bit tired, but my brain’s still acting funny, so I don’t think I’d be able to fall asleep anyway.” Aziraphale was glad, because he definitely wasn’t totally sober yet, and he wouldn’t have much to do if the demon went to sleep. Reading a book wasn’t an option – he would forget everything he’d read immediately. “But could we just, like, lie down together?” Crowley didn’t like the fact that such questions came to him easier when he was drunk - or high, apparently.
“Of course, dear.” The angel brightened, and they lay down facing each other.
“You know what would do? Some music.” He mindlessly snapped his fingers, and suddenly there was The Velvet Underground playing somewhere in the background. Aziraphale idly wondered where it was coming from, but he decided it wasn’t that important, not at all. It sounded wonderful, even if normally it wouldn’t be a song of the angel’s choice.
Crowley felt as if the music was resonating through his body. As he focused on that, he noticed that breathing required some huge amounts of energy and effort, so he figured he didn’t need it for now. After all, it was only optional to him – a learnt habit he could choose to ignore at any moment.
“Dear, do you also feel like gravity’s working just so much stronger than usually?”
“Yeah, I feel so heavy.”
Aziraphale smiled softly. “You hardly even weigh anything.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.” He yawned again.
“Are you sure you don’t want to just sober up?”
“No. You?”
“No.”
Aziraphale was simply content, but Crowley seemed rather exhausted. There was that string of hair falling on his forehead, but he didn’t even bother to do anything about it. So, Aziraphale’s plan was to tenderly remove the string, maybe tuck it back gently with his hand. But as stated before, gravity was working terribly strongly, so his hand just kind of fell on the demon’s face with… more force than it was intended.
It wasn’t exactly clear which yelp came out first: the amazed “Angel!” or the equally startled “I’m sorry!”
After apologising, and soothing the demon, Aziraphale proceeded to delicately remove the disobedient piece of hair, taking his time, and to delicately place his hand on Crowley’s face, leaning in to kiss it better.
The expression on Crowley’s face was soft. He looked contented, even – and that’s exactly how he felt. Not to mention that the unexpected face slap energised him slightly, so he wasn’t literally falling asleep anymore.
‘Femme fatale’ was playing in the background, and their brains were still a bit numb, so to speak. They were just looking at each other, and there was all the world’s adoration visible in their eyes.
Crowley really decided to exert himself – he moved closer to the angel, cuddled up to him, and buried his face in his chest.
“I love you.” Aziraphale sighed, stroking his back lazily.
The muffled “Love you too” seriously made his heart flutter.
“I love you more.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, angel!” Crowley exclaimed, raising his head, not really able to hold in his grin. “I do more.” He muttered once he had returned to his previous position. Except now, he was even closer to Aziraphale, clinging to him. But the angel didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he put his hand on the pillow, gently caressing the nape of the demon’s neck with his fingertips.
Crowley could swear that, given the chance, he would stay like that forever. “We will do this again, right?” He murmured, right when he was about to drift off.
“Yes, dear. I rather think we will.” And this time it wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t some vacant statement regarding a hypothetical situation. This time he meant it.