shipping | psl

Crowley tries to chase the brief kiss, but once he has the sense to do so his mouth finds only air. Aziraphale is gone behind a screen and there are only glimpses.

"What are you doing behind there? Can I help?"

"Oh, no no," he responds. "Don't worry, just putting on different clothes." He walks out eventually, dressed up in a stripey blue and cream bathing suit, looking quite like pajamas cut right above the knee and with a little sailor's collar.

"What do you think?" he says, moving the screen so that it accordions right up.

He poses for Crowley, one knee up, hip popped, hand up. He just picked a generic one, not knowing that this puffs out both his chest and his bum.

Crowley's eyes are the size of saucers and his breathing quickens. Blue, he thinks fervently, and white! Stripes!

So this is how humans flashed their colours - with their lovely fabrics.

Crowley swallows, getting unsteadily to his feet and circling around Aziraphale to drink in every inch of him. Not only was it so charmingly and seductively coloured, it emphasized just how lovely and soft the human look.

"S'ssuch a splendid display," he says throatily, "So bright and beautiful."

"A d-display?" he asks, looking at him confused.

Then it clicks. "Oh, a mating ritual?" He does think that being scantily-clad and showing athletic prowess were things that humans did do to show off how good they were as potential partners.

He reaches for Crowley, places a hand around his waist and comes close.

"This is just what we wear to swim."

"You swim in clothes...?" Crowley asks, bewildered. "So it's not a deliberate reply to my own then? I should still be keeping everything tucked away?"

Because that would be embarrassing. Flashing his rod about for Aziraphale to inspect when Aziraphale was in no way ready to get to inspecting.

But he had invited Crowley to touch and touch he does, running his fingers over the fabric along Aziraphale's sides, and mouthing against his throat.

"I've got a lot to learn about humans."

"Oh, well, we could go out for a bathe in the nude, I suppose," he starts. "But yes, I'm rather afraid that humans do usually wear clothes. There are - there are clothes that humans wear to... show overt sexual interest, of course, but--"

Crowley mouths over his throat and touches his sides and oh dear, is that Aziraphale's reply coming to fruition in his trousers?

"--Well, I would. Wouldn't ever agree to go out in public wearing them. And I, personally, don't own any, you know, because I wasn't trying to-- not trying to-- attract anyone."

Not a good save.

"You mean the colours and patterns on this aren't for attracting potential mates?" he asks incredulously.

His lips have, in the meantime, migrated to Aziraphale's jawline, his arms encircling him to hold him close.

"I'm very curious about what kind of clothes you might put on if you wanted something more than this...?"

He grins, drawing back just enough to give Aziraphale some breathing room. As much as he'd like to, there's no need to rush, and he likes their little game.

"No," Aziraphale repeats, though he has a hard time speaking with his breath hitched and his eyes fluttering closed. "I suppose men typically put on expensive clothes to demonstrate their wealth."

"If I'd known-- that you use colors and patterns in a mating display, perhaps I would've chosen something more sober. And then a brighter color later." He feels as if pulled in by a wave, opening his eyes with a delay after Crowley pulls away.

"Would you like it if I did?" he asks. "I'll reserve some articles," he states. "To put on only when I am feeling particularly amorous." His arms curl around Crowley's neck, fingers twining into his hair.

Crowley hums as he turns the suggestion over in his head.

"Might help," he finally concedes. He's getting some mixed signals here and the colours and patterns have certainly inflamed his passions. Or perhaps it's just Aziraphale in his arms, ever so soft and warm. "Got something that would suit you very nicely. For when you're, as you say, feeling amourous."

Crowley's certainly feeling so at the moment, even to the point where the tip of his cock is peeking out from the narrow slit. He does hope Aziraphale doesn't notice.

Aziraphale is honestly hoping that Crowley doesn't feel an erection against his scaly leg, because Aziraphale is certainly feeling it pulsing, starting to spread all over his body. He might almost be too distracted by that to notice, but he gulps and looks down so Crowley won't see how red his face is becoming and--

--Oh!

"Is that a cut?" he asks, reaching for his cock on instinct to see if there's any blood. Why would his scales be split, otherwise? "Are you hurt?"

Whoops.

Crowley doesn't have time to stop Aziraphale before those lovely fingers brush ever so gently over the protruding tip. He's glad that he's not the only one, given how Aziraphale was pressed against his thigh, but he's the one leading the courtship, he needs to be the one showing restraint until Aziraphale makes it clear in no uncertain terms he wants what Crowley is offering.

It elicits a gasp from the merman, and his fingers involuntarily tighten, but he quickly lets go, reaching instead to guide Aziraphale's hand away, resting it on his hip instead.

"Not a cut, love. Seeing you like this just had an effect on me, it'll go down soon enough."

He's scared of hurting Crowley, and looks confused for a moment after Crowley explains, and then-- and then, oh! His eyes open wide, and he blushes and tries to avert his gaze from Crowley's cock, nearly snapping his own neck with how fast he does it.

"I'm sorry, I hadn't meant to look at your nakedness, my darling." He clears his throat and burns a hole in the floor with his stare.

"Should we-- should we wait to go have that lesson, then?" he asks, rolling his thumbs over Crowley's hips gently.

The thumbs over his hips feel nice. Exquisite even.

"You can look all you like. M'pretty much always naked."

And he doesn't see the point in being shy about it.

"Besides, you're in the same way I am, right? So nothing to be ashamed about. It'll either go away or we can just - "

And Crowley makes the universal sign for wanking.

" - while your cake thing cooks."

Aziraphale stares at Crowley as he makes that gesture. Wow. He blinks rapidly and he doesn't know how to tell Crowley that wanking counts as mating to humans, and also that if they are to pair, it means that they won't be allowed to have a wank with anyone else. Or, is that not expected of merfolk? Would Crowley expect to go home and have casual sex with other merfolk the way that Aziraphale would treat greeting his greengrocer?

He loses himself in this thought for a moment before he realizes they should really talk this through. "This is very... modern of you," he says. He doesn't know if that really gets the point across.

"You are... only offering because you intend to pair with me, correct? Are we, ah... engaged? Betrothed? Affianced?"

Crowley nods vigourously.

"Dunno what those other three mean, but yeah, you don't really do this sort of thing with strangers, right? Not exactly fun having someone you don't know handling your bits. They say it's a healthy way for prospective pairs to bond. Do, uh, humans just... not do anything at all until they get married?"

His expression is concerned. He desperately doesn't want to overstep bounds, but he has no idea what is or isn't acceptable to Aziraphale. Only way to find out is to ask.

"That depends," he says. "It's all very complicated, you know. I suppose it's different, because in our society, we pair to make children, and it's important for a father to know which children belong to him, to be responsible for their upbringing but later to pass on his wealth and estate to them."

What an odd way of describing humans to someone who doesn't know humans. "So over time anything related to... bits... has sort of been regarded as something for your spouse." Besides, it's not like they lived in those free Edwardian times with the low-cut tops and the clingy dresses. They lived in Victorian times, when people didn't show their ankles and women had to wear woolen socks at the beach.

"Though some do, but it's... well, it's just not proper!" he explains, as if that explained anything. He just didn't know how to say that it's frowned upon in society and he is not the sort of person in society to have a scandalous affair.

Or any sort of affair.

He doesn't really know why he cares, personally, since he's so invisible in his society.

Crowley nods slowly.

"Reproduction is pretty impersonal for us. Just sirens laying their eggs in the nurseries and males'll come by to fertilize them. I mean, it's all regulated, of course, to make sure we don't inbreed, but - I suppose I'd see how it's different for you."

He gently thumbs over Aziraphale's cheek, pressing kiss after kiss to his brow to reassure him.

"So we don't have to do anything you don't want."

Well, he does very much want to touch Crowley, to observe him, to lay him on the bed and do all the things he'd dreamed about doing as a young man who'd come into his hormones, a long time ago before he realized they were absolutely useless for anything and just going to waste.

Technically, it wasn't right for them to be together at all, since they were both men, but it wasn't like that logically made sense anyway, since it was very unlikely that Aziraphale would be marrying any women in lieu of this. And he hadn't the capital to marry anyone, anyway. He could barely provide for himself, and he was away so often from home.

So it stood to reason that he didn't need to follow the rules, because he'd already broken one that seemed plenty arbitrary to him. Even if they just pretended to be roommates, there would be talk, of course. But he doesn't understand, when God had sent to him everything he had ever wanted in life in Crowley. How was he to deny that this was a gift, and not a temptation? Was he all wrong? Was this all as He planned it?

As he debates this, he takes a whiff and then he jerks away suddenly. "Oh! The cake!"

He rushes over to the oven to check. Ah, yes, cake's ready.

Crowley would hardly consider himself a gift from or to anyone, nor would he think himself particularly tempting. He's an outcast, fallen from grace and considered a pariah at worst and a nuisance at best.

Aziraphale had gone quiet before the cake interrupted them, and it worries him. What has the human so unsettled? It couldn't just be making an accidental grab for his cock?

Crowley frowns, and takes one of the blankets from the bed, wrapping it around himself. He hopes its an improvement.

"That makes the whole den smell nice. So this is cake, hm?"

"Mm, yes, and it does more than make the whole house smell wonderful, but." He sets it on a cooling rack. "Unfortunately, now we have to wait for it to become less hot."

The oven had warmed up the place quite a bit since it's a very small "den", so he looks over and wonders if Crowley is cold. He does make his way to him, placing the back of his hand on Crowley's forehead, trying to discern a fever.

He feels fine.

"I ought to get you a ring. A gold one, so it doesn't rust."

Crowley leans into the touch. Indeed, there's no fever - his skin even feels oddly cool to the touch. Not clammy, but rather the dry coolness of a reptile. But he does seem drawn almost immediately to Aziraphale's side, which is very warm and, well, belonging to Aziraphale. Crowley couldn't fathom a more wonderful spot to be.

"Why a ring?" he asks curiously, settling his arms back around Aziraphale's shoulders.

"Oh, it's customary for a man to buy his intended a ring," he says. "As a promise to marry her. Well, not her, in this case." He curls an arm around Crowley's waist and feels that it's natural to do so.

"But a promise to marry. And I do, promise to marry you." He tips Crowley's chin and presses a short kiss to his lips. "I do like this. I think we should kiss. There's nothing improper about that."

Humans have weird rules, Crowley.

"I'd like that then. Being married with you."

This time he's prepared for the kiss. He leans in now instead of sitting there like a melon and deepens it just a bit before pulling away.

"And this too. Like kissing you a lot."

Fiddling with the little sailor's collar, Crowley beams.

"...So tell me all the improper things for humans. I want to court you properly, after all."

And proper courting seems to mean not crossing the courted's boundaries.

"Well," he starts. "We could take walks," he said. "Or hold hands, now that we're engaged." He takes Crowley's hand and kisses the back of it.

"And we could.... go out to a restaurant, and get something to eat." Well they could, if Aziraphale could afford it. "But we won't be allowed to do much more than that." He hopes Crowley doesn't mind. "We can have a short engagement."

And then they'll be married, and be allowed all the luxuries that a married pair can have.

Crowley already finds his mind swimming with questions and he pipes up quite enthusiastically, giving Aziraphale's hand a squeeze.

"Are there long engagements? Or medium engagements? If there are, which do you prefer? ...And what's a restaurant? Is that your words for a hunting party?"

Because Crowley has never really eaten food he hasn't had to catch or scavenge before.

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