It was a gloomy day by common standards, sharp wind whipped through the streets without moving the clouds lying thick across the sky, dark with rain and making the air fizzle with the promise of a storm.
The weather made them smile. They never looked too deep into the ‘why?’ but they’d always loved winter and the weather it brought. The thought of lashing rain made them grin and pick up the pace through the streets of Mayfair, they enjoyed the rain but they weren’t fond of catching a cold.
Another whistle of wind made them tuck the bouquet further into their unzipped coat, protecting the fragile heads of pink and red roses. Luckily the flat was only another block away before they were safe inside, just in time for the rain to begin pattering down.
By the time they got up to the flat, they could hear the water turning into a stormy roar and plinking harshly against the windows.
“Crowley?” They called out, shrugging out of the leather jacket they stole from his wardrobe that morning. It was a good chance he was curled up somewhere warm in weather like this and they shook their head, smiling at the thought of their scaly blanket burrito.
The roses in their hand gave them pause before they stepped further inside. Crowley loved growing flowers, they knew that. They’d gone over this time and again in their heads ever since the idea of getting him flowers cropped up and here they were, caught again in the echoing thralls of Square 1: ‘would he actually like them?’.
It was too late to feasibly back out now, they knew that. Only allowing one last moment of wavering in their choice before they pressed on to look for Crowley. There was no yelling or snapping remarks, meaning he wasn’t surrounded by his plants and the sofa was empty, leaving the bedroom as the only place he’d be.
Biting down on their lip, they gently knocked on the door as they nudged it open, grinning at the pile of blankets surrounding vivid yellow eyes.
“Warm enough?” They teased, stepping further inside.
Crowley stuck out his forked tongue, “No, get in here.”
Chuckling, they kicked off their jeans and shirt so Crowley could achieve the maximum amount of skin-to-skin contact possible, even though he still complained wasn’t enough.
They knee-walked across the bed, letting him swallow them up in his blanket mound while being mindful of their gift. Crowley glanced down at them, tilting his head like 45 degrees of an angle could make the flora give up their reason of existence.
“What’re those?” he asked, eyes roving judgmentally over the petals.
“Flowers.” They answered slowly, pressing into his side. “For you. From me. I thought- well it made sense that, uh- Just that you’d.. Like them?” Wincing at themselves, they stared down at the flowers in their lap and braced for a reaction.
Nimble fingers slid the bundle out of their hands and they waited another heavy moment before lips pressed a kiss to the apple of their cheek.
“They’re very pretty.” He said, smiling when they finally looked up at him.
“You like ‘em?” They asked, grinning giddily.
Crowley rolled his eyes with a playful scoff, “of course I like them. You got them for me.”
Red heated their cheeks and they turned their face into his sternum, hiding away even though he could feel their grin against his skin like they felt his chuckles in his chest.
They felt the air shift with a miracle and watched Crowley carefully shuffling the roses to fit into a vase they’d never seen.
“Never had cut flowers before.” He mused, still smiling down at them, brushing his fingertips along the petals.
They hummed, leaning heavily into his side as the warmth of his blankets made them snoozy, “Wasn’t sure if you’d like ‘em ‘cause they were cut but lugging a rose bush in here seemed impractical.”
Crowley was quiet, setting the vase on the bedside table and pulling them to lay back against his chest as he sat against the headboard. Eventually he asked, “Why’d you get them?”
They shrugged, remembering the many directions their thoughts had spun through to make the decision before finally landing on; “You deserve good things. And... I wanted to make you feel how I do, when you do stuff for me.”
“What does yours feel like?” He murmured softly, almost lost in the ambient noise of the storm still raging outside.
They snuggled in impossibly deeper, pressing a kiss to the skin protecting his corporation's heart. “Loved.”
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He totally tries the ice cream later. I believe in slightly-feral, adventurous-eater Aziraphale.
Anyway listen so far we haven’t seen Crowley eat anything, so my hc for now is he eats the same way my snake does. Once every two weeks, when he’s completely alone and feels secure, he has a nice big rodent and then immediately goes into a food coma for 3 days. And until Neil shows me I’m wrong that’s what I’m sticking with.
Also, sorry if this grosses anyone out. I’m a snake mom so frozen rodents don’t bother me, but I’m sure it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. 😅
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