(no subject)

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Date: February 17, 2000
Setting: Restaurant
Status: Aziraphale, Crowley
Summary: Crowley comes back from his trip.

When Crowley returned from Manchester he was pleased at having a bad job well done. There had been a terrible mix-up with the votes, both candidates were awful, and last minute scandals on both sides kept things interesting. Still, he was glad to be back. The Manor was starting to feel like home.

He manoeuvred the Bentley into a place near the front door and went inside. Crowley headed straight for his room, but Aziraphale wasn't there. The angel wasn't in his own room either. Crowley grabbed the bottle of wine that John had given them for Christmas and started looking for him. When he didn't find him in the library, he thought there could only be one other place he could be - and he was right. Catching sight of a blonde head in the dining room, he drew Mr. Wednesday to the side, gave him the bottle of wine and some instructions, and slid into a chair at Aziraphale's table.

"Hey, angel," he smirked. "Miss me?"

Comments

[ineffable-angel.livejournal.com]

"In some respects," Aziraphale replied coolly, not looking up from his book. "Are you joining me for supper?" He glanced up at Crowley over his glasses, licked a thumb, and turned a page.

"Really," he said, bright blue eyes scanning the text, "I would have thought you had better taste than to leave so suddenly. Pray tell, what was this urgent business?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley raised an eyebrow, puzzled by Aziraphale's attitude.

"You're maligning my taste because I left for two days to do my job?" He leaned forward in his chair. "What's your problem? It was the Manchester by-election. I had to go. But if it concerned you so much, why the hell didn't you call me? You got my note, right?"

[ineffable-angel.livejournal.com]

"Eventually." The angel knew that he was being childish, but to be disappointed so... "Did you know you left at an... inopportune time?"

He put down his book and fixed Crowley with a look. "Flowers. Roses, actually. Hearts. Chocolates. Little stupid cherubs with the name of an ancient god? Any of this ringing a bell?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley stared at Aziraphale, dumbstruck for a moment.

"Yeah, I know I left on Valentine's Day. But you don't buy into all that commercial crap, do you? Why on earth would you set aside one day out of the year to tell someone that they're special to you? Roses wilt and chocolates get eaten. Then what? Obligatory tokens of affection are meaningless. You should show people that you care when you feel it. Would it mean less to you if I did something special now instead?"

He gave Wednesday the signal to come over.

[ineffable-angel.livejournal.com]

"No," the angel said, sighing. He put away his book. "And what did you have in mind?"

He saw Crowley's gesture and spotted the bottle in Wednesday's hands, a lovely aged red with a familiar label. "My dear," he said, slightly giddily, February 14th forgotten, "is that the bottle John procured for us for Christmas?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

With one of his most seductive smiles, Crowley said, "Yes. Care to share a ten thousand quid bottle, angel?"

Aziraphale's expression told him all that he wanted to know. In a moment Wednesday came over and rather regally opened and poured the wine. Crowley raised his glass and after Wednesday had walked off, said, "To us, then."

[ineffable-angel.livejournal.com]

"Ohhhh, goodness!" Aziraphale said giddily, flustered. "Such a wine... Oh, my dear!" He clasped a hand to his mouth, flushed and excited.

After the wine John had thoughtfully procured sometime back had been poured, Aziraphale looked at Crowley and smiled. "To us," he echoed, beaming, and sipped it.

It was thick, a red, and so darkly fruity that only wines from ancient times even began to match it. He patted his mouth dry with his napkin, and looked in anticipation at Crowley. "Dinner?" he asked, as he reached to take another sip. "Mmm, we shall have to thank him again for this. It's almost, ah, heavenly, wouldn't you say?"

The downside, or upside, depending on how you looked at it, was that a very good wine, as any connoisseur worth his cheese would tell you, made you quite drunk rather quickly. Aziraphale could already feel himself relaxing as he drank down.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

The wine was heady indeed, spicy, syrupy, and sweet. Crowley sipped it thoughtfully, feeling a growing warmth throughout his body.

"Heavenly? Hardly." His lips curled into a rather evil little smile, like the one he usually had when he was planning some large scale mischief. "This is sinfully good."

He savoured it a moment longer, eyes closed, moving it around his palatte. Almost purring, Crowley finally swallowed and opened his eyes again.

"Hm? Oh." He glanced at the menu and thought about his last experience in the restaurant. "Nah, I'm not hungry. You get something if you like, though."

[ineffable-angel.livejournal.com]

"Well..." Aziraphale hummed, perusing the menu, pudgy fingers tapping it. "The menu can be rather surprising at times. I might order something to go with this wine, if you don't mind." He sipped it again and felt an odd hum. "Maybe just some baked bread."

Wensleydale arrived at their table, busy as the dining room slowly filled, and disappeared to fetch some bread after a quick debate about which bread.

Aziraphale sipped his intoxicating wine again, feeling the spirits go right to his head. He was wary of getting too drunk too quickly, and focused on Crowley instead. "So how is Manchester, then?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Rolling his eyes, Crowley asked sarcastically, "Is there any other kind?"

He ignored Wensleydale and the entire boring bread conversation and instead worked steadily through his first glass of wine and into a second. It was starting to get rather warm in the room. He wondered if they'd turned the heat up more than usual in the Manor as he loosened his tie slightly.

"Manchester is the same crappy dump it's always been. And nothing will change considering who's running for office. Ten points for me."

Crowley shifted slightly in his seat and finished his second glass of wine.

[ineffable-angel.livejournal.com]

"I see." Aziraphale downed the rest of his first, and almost immediately it was filled again.

He watched Crowley moved, a little, a dip in the shoulders, and shifted himself, feeling oddly restless. "Is it warm in here?" Aziraphale finally asked, removing his own jacket. He folded it over the back of his chair and patted it.

Simple, fresh bread was brought out then, and Aziraphale finished his second glass with the first piece. It was filled again before he could blink. "My dear," he said, reaching for another piece of bread and breaking off a bite-sized chunk, "Won't you have some?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Raising an eyebrow, Crowley said, "Warm in here? You think?"

He lifted his wine glass with one hand wrapped around the bowl and after a few seconds the liquid inside started to boil. Setting it carefully down again, he was about to stand when a certain situation came to his attention and made him want to stay in his seat. Crowley pulled his jacket off awkwardly and laid it across his lap.

Shifting again, he thought about waving away the bread with a harsh comment, but reconsidered. He probably should have something in his stomach apart from just the wine. "Fine. If you'll shut up about the damn bread, I'll eat it."

[ineffable-angel.livejournal.com]

He watched Crowley as the demon fidgeted, surveying him with all the familiarity of six thousand years of experience, and knew he was right about the heat. He tugged his shirt collar and patted his flushed cheeks. Aziraphale pressed his lips together in a smile, and took another sip, finishing a second glass.

He felt oddly languorous, found himself offering to feed Crowley the piece in his hand. "Please?" he added, and Crowley leaned forward. Aziraphale fed it to him, and then another slice, breaking it with his fingers into rough chunks of food. It was oddly intimate, yet neither seemed bothered by the intimacy. Memory that Aziraphale didn't want to pry up stirred. His cheeks went from dusky pink to scarlet, and he ate a piece himself to cover his embarassment.

"You know," he began, watching Crowley chew slowly, and wincing at his own squeaky tone (again, he blamed this on the heat), "I think they really have set the temperature wrongly. Do you want to, ah, continue our conversation upstairs? We can have our food brought to us; it's not as if we haven't done it before, my dear."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

As Aziraphale put the piece of bread into his mouth, Crowley may have moaned ever so slightly. It's also entirely possible that his tongue could have instinctively flicked across the intrusive fingers.

After a few bites, feeling incredibly warm and uncomfortably snug, Crowley finally stood. Without thinking, he leaned across the table and breathed into Aziraphale's ear.

"Upstairsss. I want you, angel. Right now."

Then he straightened and walked out of the restaurant, not daring to glance back.

[ineffable-angel.livejournal.com]

Aziraphale choked on his mouthful of bread, even before Crowley was finished speaking.

To say he hadn't expected Crowley to be so... forthright... this evening was an understatement, but it wasn't as if he was going to complain.

He found his wineglass and drank, distracted. He wiped his mouth delicately, picked up the bottle and both of their wine glasses, and hurried upstairs.