shipping | psl

Aziraphale looks at it with trepidation, but then opens his mouth for Crowley to feed him, and then when he eats it, it does melt on his tongue. The fat is unctuous, lovely, and so fresh. It's wonderful. He tastes the sea when he eats it, he tastes luxury. Oh, goodness.

His eyes slide closed, and he moans.

It's like the most lovely things in the sea have offered themselves up to him. He expects to be bedecked in pearls and given fine ambergris for perfumery at this rate.

"Oh, that's good. I didn't know you could eat it raw." He cuts another slice, and offers it up to Crowley to eat this time. He's excited to watch Crowley eat it, as excited as Crowley was to share it with him.

Crowley is flushed and gaping when Aziraphale moans, and he's still flushed and gaping when Aziraphale offers him a slice. He may be having very similar thoughts of bedecking Aziraphale in pearls and jewels and the finest perfumes, and very little else.

He's certainly got a small horde of treasure already. Later, when he returns to his den, he'll gather it all up, and leave it as an offering. Glittering things suit Aziraphale quite well, he thinks.

Eventually he comes out of his dumbfounded state, taking the offered piece of meat. He's so far gone he barely tastes it.

"Do - do humans cook everything? Because if the meat's fresh, it's perfectly alright to eat it raw."

Aziraphale cuts them some more slices, super thin as he'd been shown, and delights in this new delicacy. "Yes, we must. We cook everything, otherwise we might get sick!" he says. "Happens a lot, here. But I suppose if we pound it really thin, we can't see anything on it." Like maggots, or bugs, which they can kill, by cooking it to death!

Or, in some cases, eat the maggots. But Aziraphale has never heard of that sort of cheese, not yet. He'd be wary to try it.

Still, the fish tastes so fresh he can't see why it'd hurt him. And he'd helped himself to plenty of cured fish - gravlax, his favorite, which was just salt and lemon and oil. And dill. Mm, dill...

"This is really very lovely." He nods and then goes to select a nice white wine, and pours them both a generous glass. "I think this should do nicely with the fish." He clinks their glasses together, and takes a sip.

Crowley is still trying to play catch up. Clinking glasses. Humans letting their food go so long it rots.

It would be terrible to refuse anything that Aziraphale gave him though - after all, this was all part of courting. Bring each other to their dens, share meals, touch, observe their compatibility. Crowley's duty is, after all, to provision Aziraphale with food and gifts.

But humans let their food rot.

It's a little worrying.

He'll just have to make sure Aziraphale gets only the freshest fish, the tastiest tidbits the ocean can provide.

He sniffs the wine.

Then tastes it.

"...It's... I've never tasted anything like this. You called it wine, right?"

It isn't a bad flavour but definitely peculiar. Light and a little sour, but also sweet, and it warms him as though Aziraphale is holding him from the inside out.

"Yes, there's also red, but I think the white goes well with the delicate taste of the fish. It will bring out the light flavors in the fish," he says, cutting Crowley another slice and proffering him. "It's a particularly fruity wine."

He wants to show Crowley all the world he knows, too. He likes Crowley, so very much. He'd gladly shower him in all the things that he could afford, like flowers, and sunshine. He would love to have been able to give him gold, or jewels. But surely there's enough of it at the bottom of the ocean for the taking.

He'd like to take Crowley up a mountain, or climbing a tree. Into a forest, through the greatest art galleries. Yes, he wishes to show Crowley all that the humans could do.

"I think this would go wonderfully on some bread..."

"I think anything'd go well with bread. It's all sweet and fluffy. Bit like you."

He had, in fact, never tasted anything so sweet - even past the flavour from the jam. He'd certainly liked it, and was eager to try more.

As Aziraphale bustles for the bread, he cuts more slices of meat, arranging them artfully on one of the shimmering golden plates he'd brought as a gift. He wants very much for his offering to appeal, so perhaps putting food on it will catch Aziraphale's eye...? He can only hope.

"I promised I'd bring the maps. We'll have to wait for nightfall though, or the writing won't show."

His ears turn a bit red, but he definitely sidesteps the comment about him being fluffy or sweet, because. Well. There are more important things at hand, anyway.

"Mystical maps that only show things in the moonlight? How marvelous!" he exclaims, clearly much more interested in that than in golden plates. He looks over and, yes, well, getting Crowley anything in gold would be useless, because clearly the man was rich.

"These are lovely," he says. "Very pretty color, really brings out your eyes." He caresses Crowley's cheek again, as if to emphasize.

He cuts them both generous slices of bread, and butters them up, but leaves off the jam for now, so they can both eat their fish and their bread and wine simply, with nothing else to get in the way of their tastebuds. "This is all such a marvelous treat, Crowley. You really shouldn't have. Thank you."

He leans in, and busses his cheek.

He melts into Aziraphale's touch, gazing up at him adoringly.

"Of course I should have," Crowley states, returning the gesture with enthusiasm. "I'm courting you. Gotta bring you the very best. Especially if you're only ever eating meat cooked. Can't imagine why you'd let it go so long you have to cook it. Get's all - "

He gestures vaguely. "Tough. And chewy. Ruins the flavour."

Crowley puffs up his chest. If he still had his tail, the fringe would be fanned out.

"But not to worry. I'll only ever bring you fresh food. Never have to cook again."

"Oh, my dear. That's wonderful, I shall keep you around forever." He bumps shoulders against Crowley as he grins at him, and then continues to eat his dinner. He keeps looking up, taking shy glances at Crowley.

"You're being so lovely to me," he says. "Have you not... found any mermen to court? Or... mermaids, perhaps?" he asks, just prying a little bit.

After all, it s a little too good to be true, isn't it?

"I haven't, you know. No one holds a candle to you in conversation." He reaches for Crowley's hand.

Crowley shakes his head.

"No one's really caught my eye like you. The whole priesthood thing wasn't exactly the best place for finding a mate either."

He takes Aziraphale's hand, now quite full and much more interested in watching him eat. The fish seems to have been a hit.

"But even after I got kicked out, there wasn't anyone so interesting as you. A sage who can't swim, studying the sea - I do love a contradiction, even if High Priests weren't so fond of me pointing them out. And you're much more interesting than singing endless praises to the Old Ones."

He rests his chin on Aziraphale's shoulder, beaming.

"Your turn. I'm pretty amazed you don't have a line of hopefuls from here to the nearest city for me to chase off. Have you no one at all?"

His face goes through a myriad of emotions from shock to awe, wondering how on Earth he was supposed to get over the fact that Crowley had been a priest. Of course, that comes and goes, but he'll come back to that later. He hadn't wanted to interrupt.

"No, I haven't. No one. There'd been... others, I considered. But I was always just so slow, and then, they all got married before I got the chance to pluck up the courage. Naturally, there were a few above my station, and though at least one of them would've considered me, it wouldn't have been for long."

Then he circles back. "You are a priest?" he asks. "This is rather unpriestly, don't you think? I hadn't realized you were allowed to court anyone." He doesn't want to get in between Crowley and his God.

"You're not giving up anything for me, are you?" he inquires, worried.

"Was a priest. Was! Got kicked out about, oh, ten years back. Been living out here since. Don't see many, maybe the occasional traveler needs a place to stay, but never - you know. Pursued someone. Got pursued a bit, nothing took."

He smiles, nuzzling into Aziraphale's neck. He can smell his sweet, comforting scent under the salt of the ocean spray that still clung to him.

"Even if I was, I'd turn in my little crown and trident, tell Cthulhu where he can stick his tentacles, and save all my songs for you."

Crowley gives Aziraphale's hand a gentle squeeze.

"...Sorry the ones you fancied didn't wait for you, though. That's... I'm sure it's painful."

Of course he'd been pursued, thinks Aziraphale. Look at him; he's so lovely, it's hard to imagine anyone would see him and not wonder if he had any attachments. Moreover, he was charming, and sweet, and strong...

He holds Crowley as the merman nuzzles into his neck, gathers him up like fruits of a bountiful harvest, smiling into those long locks of red hair.

"It was a long time ago. And I do enjoy being by myself. I'd rather thought I would be, forever, until you came along." He hadn't thought Crowley such a serious suitor before, but something had changed. Perhaps it was dreaming of him, or perhaps it was all these gifts, or the idea that if he had been a dream, then Aziraphale would rather return to the dream than go on living in reality.

"Could I hear one?" he asks. "Of your songs. Or do we need an occasion?"

Crowley loves to be held like this, ever so close and warm against Aziraphale.

"It'll just sound like a bunch of screeching up here. When we go swimming together again, I'll sing for you. I'll sing you all the beautiful songs I know, and I'll write many more about you."

He smiles softly, content in the crook of Aziraphale's neck.

"And when you get a bit more comfortable with the water, I'll show you my den, and all sorts of secret places under the waves."

"That sounds incredible," he says, thinking about it. It would surely be a wondrous discovery, perhaps one of the most important ones in this century. And they'd started making railway cars, and motor engines. All sorts of neat inventions.

Then he remembers that he owes Crowley a massage, and starts to rub his shoulders, pressing his thumb into the overworked muscles, careful to stay away from any wounds as he works into his skin.

"I should like to hear your beautiful songs, and your beautiful language. And see where you live, and be welcomed into your home." And maybe they could lay on Crowley's bed like this, and Aziraphale could nuzzle against Crowley's well-firmed chest.

Crowley is so taken with the sudden rush of sensation up his spine, he stumbles out of his chair into Aziraphale's arms, holding on for dear life.

"That feels - oh - !"

Crowley has no words for how it feels, beyond wonderful and marvelous and no one has ever touched him like this, in a way that leaves him tense with anticipation and then quite relaxed at the same time.

"Whatever you're doing, please don't stop."

"No intention of stopping, dear," he responds, continuing the massaging. He works out some of the knots by Crowley's neck, feeling the hard muscle underneath his fingers. He doesn't employ too much strength, not unless Crowley asks for it.

"Though, I think it's usually done with me sitting behind you, or with you laying down on the bed," he says. "If you'd like a proper massage, I mean. It's very relaxing, even hours later. Good for tired, sore muscles," he adds. "And your muscles must be so sore. Defending your territory. Getting all these things for me. My darling, you must be exhausted."

His goal for the evening is to get Crowley to feel safe and pass out cocooned in a warm bed, and wake up to find a soft breathing pillow, and never want to leave again.

Well, except to take him on wild adventures into the sea.

"Bed," he agrees dizzily. "Yes. That's what humans sleep in. Very good."

Crowley has no objections to cuddling up with Aziraphale in that soft nest of pillows and blankets. Once he can form a coherent thought, he nuzzles Aziraphale forward.

"Might need to lean on you a bit. Still haven't got the hang of these yet."

He lifts one leg, and staggers, quickly planting his foot back on the floor.

"S'a balance issue."

"Oh, yes," he says. "Here, let me help you lie down, then." He takes Crowley's legs, lifting them onto the bed, and finds himself in a very compromising position with Crowley, particularly as they're quite heavy and he tumbles forward, now between his legs.

His hand goes out to maintain his own balance, and lands by Crowley's head.

Breathing heavily, he gazes downward, looking Crowley in the eyes. His hair fanned out behind him, he looks like a painting, inviting Aziraphale to come closer. He doesn't need to be a siren to tempt.

"Sorry," he says. "I'm... having a balance issue of my own."

Crowley is delighted by this turn of events, and promptly wraps his arms around Aziraphale's shoulders, nuzzling up into his chest.

Balance issues, indeed. Well, since they were both here, he was more than content to remain just so.

"You know, there's another part of courtship," he says, gliding his fingers down Aziraphale's back. "Resting together, keeping each other company. Getting to know each other."

He is well-aware of this part of the courtship, not by experience but by rumor. He isn't frightened by the prospect. No, he's excited. Crowley is good and healthy, and seems to like him very much.

And yet, something keeps him back. "Perhaps that's... just a little fast," he says. "The resting, the getting to know each other. Let's do that."

He says this, though his eyes are trained on Crowley's mouth, and he longs to give him another kiss.

"My dear," he starts, sounding a little bit nervous. It is a very serious discussion for the fact that they'd only started this yesterday. "If we might someday marry, will you promise to never stop courting me?" he asks.

"Marriage - that's pretty much the same as pairing. Bit more ceremony - seen a couple on your ships. All colourful."

He'd like something like that, especially for Aziraphale. Bright colours seem to suit the human.

Nestling into the covers, he keeps him close.

"And s'the whole point of courtship. Show that I can do these things for you, keep doing them for you. Make sure we're compatible before we do anything long-term, yeah?"

He's quite cozy here, watching Aziraphale watch his lips. He reaches up to thumb over Aziraphale's, his eager expression softening.

"...And keeping each other company means just that. Quiet times just spent together. Not gonna mate with you 'till you're ready."

"Oh?" he inquires. "Yes, I suppose. We will have to pair." He places a hand firmly on Crowley's chest, flat over his heart. "Because this land won't recognize a marriage such as ours," he says. They were, after all, not of the same species. It was unheard of.

"But... we can have a ceremony, someday. On a boat, as you said. Out at sea, with all your family, and mine." Should his choose to accept what he'd chosen to do, anyway.

He kisses Crowley's thumb and then moves to lay down beside him, curling up into his arms, reaching for his shoulder again as he finds that knot he was trying to smooth out earlier. "Humans promise to mate for life, you know. With only each other. At least, we do, here." Talking about either divorce or polygamy seems like a topic for another day.

Crowley relaxes, soothed by Aziraphale's clever fingers on his shoulders, feeling any lingering aches drain away.

"Mm. I know about that. S'because marriage is all about making offspring, yeah? Pairing isn't really about that specifically. Could be a factor, but progeny that reach their first cycle tend to just be raised by the whole community."

He strokes his fingers through Aziraphale's hair, marveling at how soft and fine those curls are.

"We'd be equals. No one's subservient to another the way it is with human marriage. And yes," he breathes, pressing a kiss to Aziraphale's nose. "It'd be lifelong. If you like."

Oh, Crowley always says the loveliest things. He'd be willing to make such a commitment to Aziraphale someday. He feels so loved, so treasured in this moment, and it makes his fingers more nimble as they work. They move further downward, to Crowley's back, making sure that his entire body is attended to.

"I see, then we will pair the way that your society does, when it's time." He kisses Crowley's temple, sweetly rubbing into the skin that's been softened by the salt water. "And maybe we can raise some of the community's young together."

Aziraphale happily allows Crowley to comb through his hair, making a sound similar to a purr as he does so. "But that's all in the future, my dear. Right now, I just want to make sure you heal up, now that we're warm and our bellies full, and you can be dry. I can play you some music, if you'd like. If it'd help you sleep."

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