shipping | psl

"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."

Oh that's a good sound from Aziraphale. Crowley is a bit lost since the human has no scales to clean, or fins to maintain. But humans are awfully fussed about their hair, it seems a good place to start.

He wonders about raising young together - he'd never had the experience - the priesthood was a cloistered life, and then his self-imposed exile had kept him distant and isolated.

"You listen to music to sleep...?"

It seems a curious thing. Music had always been something one was wide awake for - either perform or listen.

"Soft music, yes. There's music for all sorts of things, but we have lullabies to sing each other to sleep sometimes." He hums as he rubs Crowley's back, moving down Crowley's shoulderblades and his lower back. It's a little tune that his mother used to sing for him all the time.

He only has so many hands, but he'd really like to be combing Crowley's hair for this. There are just so many curls, and it's so long. It's a miracle it doesn't tangle, and that it's so very soft, considering the damage the sea must do to it.

It seems that everything about Aziraphale is quite soft, from the things he chooses to surround himself with, his demeanor, his voice. And everything about Crowley is so very unexpected, so bright and curious like a flame.

He starts singing only to realize how disturbing the lyrics are, but he does assume that it's just as well, usually babes don't understand.

Aziraphale's voice certainly has a lulling quality. Crowley's tension is gone, and he's utterly boneless in his arms. His hand has gone from stroking Aziraphale's hair, to the fingertips just feebly rubbing at his scalp as he struggles to keep his eyes open.

Perhaps it's the song - he'll have to ask about the lyrics later, but he's sung much darker in praise of Dagon - or perhaps he's just much more tired than he initially thought.

He tangles his legs around Aziraphale's, and feels himself drift off in the warm safety of his love's arms.

Aziraphale feels Crowley go limp and breathe slowly, and gently places him underneath the covers, adjusting the both of them slightly as he finds a comfortable position to fall asleep in, himself.

He doesn't wake until morning, when sunlight filters in through his window, rousing him from his slumber. He moves to stretch without thinking, and nearly hits Crowley in the process. Oh, Crowley.

He takes the moment to brush his fingers through that lovely red hair, twirling a curl around his finger, looking at how lovely it glows in the light. Crowley looks so much at peace that it tugs at Aziraphale's heartstrings, and pulls him close to kiss his eye where it meets his brow.

Then he places his head on Crowley's shoulder, and nuzzles in, his hair tickling at the underside of Crowley's chin.

Crowley's first thought when he wakes is that, perhaps, he might have been out too long in the sun. He feels so profoundly warm that he's worried that, perhaps, he might have dried out and he'd be dealing with dried, cracked scales for weeks and what would Aziraphale think -

Aziraphale.

That's right.

Consciousness slowly returns and he can feel the warm weight of the human wrapped in his arms, curly head tucked under his chin. They fit together so nicely that Crowley can only take it as further evidence this is a good choice.

He runs his fingers down Aziraphale's arm, smiling as his eyes crack open.

"Good morning, love."

Love, he says. Oh. Aziraphale looks at him with those wide blue eyes of his, and then throws arms around his neck. "Good morning, love," he says directly into Crowley's neck, muffling the sound of his voice cracking.

This was the loveliest morning he'd ever had in his life, and it had barely begun.

"Can I get you some breakfast?" he asks, laying sweet kisses on his shoulder. "You must be hungry. Big day yesterday, hunting and fighting. Did you sleep well?" He can't keep his hands off of Crowley, continually moving his touch from his hair to his chest to his hips. He just can't believe it. Here's this dream come to life, lying in his bed, calling him things like love.

If it were less brash, less mad of a thought, he would've gotten down on a knee and proposed to him.

Crowley is pressing kisses into Aziraphale's hair, quite happy to greet him and this new day. It's so bright and warm and everything feels so soft, and while he's sure there are wonders out there for them to explore, right now he very much wants to be close to this dear man.

"Never slept better," he says, wriggling and tangling himself up more with Aziraphale. He's not quite ready to leave this warm bed.

"Can we do this every night...?"

Aziraphale is much too quick to respond, "Yes! Yes, we can." He is ready to get up and make breakfast, but it looks like his love is not, and so, he dilly dallies and delays getting extricated from his position. After all, breakfast could wait, and Crowley had some urgent business kissing his hair.

"I want to wake up with you every morning," he says. "But then, you'll have to be here every evening. I don't think I could stay underwater too long." And now he's got that pendant. "Does this work forever?" he asks, thumbing the shell.

He supposes he's asking how long Crowley could be here. They would have to pick somewhere to live once they were properly paired, after all. Of course he does still have plans to build that house over the sea, but he wasn't sure when he would tell Crowley about it.

Crowley nods, smoothing the wrinkles in Aziraphale's shirt with his hands. He didn't have any scales to preen and clean, and so Crowley would just have to make do with what was there.

"Should do, so long as I don't over-work it. So I stay on land mostly with you, except for excursions underwater, yeah?"

Crowley picks and preens at Aziraphale's clothes and hair, fluffing those lovely curls where they'd been flattened against the pillow. It seems the most logical thing to stay on land after all. With the pendant, Crowley can be there indefinitely, with no averse affects. And Aziraphale can only stay underwater for short spurts, dependent entirely on receiving Crowley's blood.

"I'll shift the better part of my stash to shore then, so no scavengers get any ideas."

Aziraphale did not, in fact, have any scales to preen but he did have plenty of body hair, and he finds it very sweet that Crowley is attempting to groom him. At least, that's what he assumes he's doing, because otherwise he is very confused.

"Well, alright dear, but we can't let them think it's alright to stake claim on your land. Is there anything we can do to guard it? Perhaps putting up a fence, or a... a charm?" he's not very good at magic, just having found out that it existed about twenty four hours ago, so Crowley will have to forgive any ignorant ideas about the subject.

Crowley seems to like where Aziraphale is soft and warm, so he gently unbuttons the lower part of his shirt and guides Crowley's hand underneath to the soft peach fuzz swell of his stomach.

"Got territory markers set up around the borders," he murmurs, starting to fluff at the soft body hair on Aziraphale's belly. But given an inch, his inquisitive hands will take a mile, beginning to stroke over the warm, soft roundness of it.

"I'll know if there's anyone who's not just passing through - oh you are lovely all over. Why do you cover yourself so much?"

He gives the shirt's hem a mournful tug as if to chastise it for hiding Aziraphale.

"Well, we all do," he says. "All humans wear this much clothing, it's only really when we go out to sea and bathe in it that we don't. Or, you know, sometimes children run around naked in the summer, but adults never do, it would be improper."

Though, he does like the way Crowley's hands feel on his stomach, warm and inquisitive. Oh, he's so very curious, and why wouldn't he be? Aziraphale had touched Crowley's tail upon first meeting him, had kissed him, and had spent part of the morning massaging his sore muscles. Crowley could be allowed a little leeway in getting into Aziraphale's personal space.

"It's only proper to gaze upon another in the nude if you are lovers, or if you are looking at a piece of art, I'd say. Our people are very private that way. It would just be very scandalous not to wear clothes!" He doesn't really know why, just that... it is!

Crowley considers this.

"Seen me naked," he says, pressing a kiss to Aziraphale's neck. "Been naked since we met. So that means I'm your lover then, right?"

Of course that's his take away from all that.

"How do humans bathe then? You wash yourself in sand like the birds?"

His fingertips glide over Aziraphale's ribs, very carefully, and then pause.

"...Right - forgot you can only breath through your ears."

He may also not be entirely well-versed on human anatomy.

Aziraphale laughs, and laughs again. Oh, Crowley is so sweet and so lovely, he can't imagine having not met him. He doesn't know how he's lived so long without him. "We bathe in the nude, darling, but we bathe alone, for the most part."

And then he smiles and he pulls Crowley in towards him, kissing his nose and informing Crowley that, "we breathe through here," and then with one on the mouth that, "we also breathe through here. But goodness, we don't breathe through our ears, I've no idea where you heard that."

And then, after a pause, he asks, "where do you think my ears are?"

He bites back another laugh, and once he calms down, he looks at Crowley and says, "alright, hold on. I'll teach you a lesson about humans. And if you're just trying to trick me into showing you parts of my body, I will say, that was very smooth. Extremely well-played, dear."

"Well-known fact," he insists a little dazedly. That's the first kiss Aziraphale gave him on the mouth - the one in the boat not-withstanding, anyway, and that had only happened because Aziraphale thought a kiss from a merperson would let him breathe underwater. "Everyone knows humans breathe through their ears."

At least he knows where Aziraphale's ears are and gives each one a kiss.

He is very interested in just what's going on under all that fabric. From what he felt, Aziraphale has quite a bit of fluffy bits and Crowley is very eager to run his fingers through them.

Aziraphale lets out a quick giggle as Crowley's breath tickles his ears, and then he takes Crowley's hand and gently moves it to his eyelashes. "These are to keep out the dust, those are little dry things, like sand, but smaller. There's a lot of it up here."

He moves Crowley's hand to his nose. "This is for smelling, and breathing, as you know."

Then to his mouth. "This is for eating, and also breathing, and kissing, and oh, I imagine a lot of other things." Then to his throat. "This is for talking." And then he unbuttons his shirt at the top, relocating Crowley's hand to his heart. "This is for delivering oxygen to my body. And for beating faster when you're near."

Then he moves Crowley's hands down, to his thighs. "These are for running, and walking, which I'll have to teach you how to do, eventually, you know."

Crowley lets his hands be guided over Aziraphale's anatomy, his expression going from surprised wonder, to soft, tender, and affectionate.

"And I can walk with you," he marvels, running his fingers along the length of Aziraphale's thighs, feeling the muscle underneath the softness of him.

"At your side, always."

He presses his forehead to Aziraphale's, and takes his hand, resting it over his own heart.

If Aziraphale were ice, he would be completely melted. He stops to feel Crowley's heart beating in his chest, softly filling him with warmth in its ceaselessness, its tenacity. "Always," he promises Crowley.

It should really scare him, how he feels so strongly for Crowley, but he's blinded by his rose-tinted outlook.

"Are you not the least bit hungry? Perhaps I can show you human breakfast," he offers, sliding his hand up from Crowley's heart around his neck and then into his hair, because he remembers how much he likes it to be played with.

"And I'll teach you to walk. Should go alright, it takes humans several months, you know."

"Good thing I'm a fast learner," Crowley remarks, shivering happily as Aziraphale touches his hair.

He's no better than Aziraphale with his own rose-tinted glasses, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale's shoulders.

"If you're hungry, I can go hunt; all sorts of good things to eat this time of year. Fish, mollusks, crabs - what are you hungry for?"

"My darling, I have plenty of food, I merely need to get extricated from your arms and go fix myself a tea and cut a slice of bread. Would you like anything? I've got some fruits in from the market, if you'd like to try. They're very sweet." And he doubts that Crowley has eaten fruit before.

In fact, he doesn't know if Crowley even likes to eat anything sweet. Well, there's one way to find out.

He does eventually leave Crowley's side, albeit reluctantly, and goes to rifle through his cupboards for berries. They're fresh, and tiny, and full to bursting with strawberry flavor, and cost him a pretty penny.

Aziraphale washes a handful of them, and plucks the stem off of one before offering it to Crowley.

Crowley studies the plump, red fruit Aziraphale proffers and takes it cautiously. He turns it over in his fingers, sniffs it, finds nothing objectionable and takes a bite.

Fireworks go off behind his eyes as his lids flutter shut. A bit of juice escapes the corner of his mouth as he chews the sweet and tart piece of ecstasy that crossed his lips. Crowley makes a sweet little whimpering sound at the back of his throat.

Oh what a marvel it is! He'd never tasted something so delicious in his life.

"...What is that?" he asks, once sense and reason return to him.

Aziraphale watches him, rapt, and nearly whimpers himself in sympathy, when he hears Crowley do it. He offers another, and says, "they're strawberries. Fresh! And just in season. They'll be sweet like this for a month, and then we won't get good ones until next year."

He loves this, getting to show Crowley something and watching the wonder in his eyes.

"Stay here, let me get you some cream." He seems practically giddy with the idea as he rifles through his his cabinets for some sweetened, slightly whipped cream, and spoons some onto a plate where he places the strawberries.

"Try it together, go on."

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