Archive of Our Own ^beta

Aziraphale beamed as he looked over his handy work. His bathroom was transformed from its usual empty state into one of pure luxury. A lavish clawfoot tub sat against the cream wall practically overflowing with bubbles. The bubbles were tinted green from the mint that had been infused into it, invisible to the human eye but he could see it and it was a subtle touch that he loved. Littered amongst the bubbles were beautiful red and yellow rose petals, the same color as the beautiful eyes and hair that lingered in his memory, soft to the touch. Black candles, like the pitch back wings and garb that surrounded his beloved, were arranged neatly around the tub, filling the room with the sweet smell of tobacco. He breathed in deeply, the mint and tobacco playing off each other wonderfully. It reminded him of the nights spent smoking pipe with Crowley in the 19th century. He rather missed smoking but that period of going ‘cold turkey’ as the humans called it, was hellish. As the red bath bomb he dropped in the bath slowly began to fizz, he smiled. This was heaven, or well his heaven. He doubts any other angel would appreciate his efforts. The thought of Gabriel sneering at his pleasure soured his mood ever so slightly. Gabriel would absolutely loathe it, he hated human things and if he were to ever bathe it would probably be miracled with holy water. Aziraphale shook the thought from his mind and scanned the room to make sure everything was in place, a candle wasn’t lit. He bustled over to the candle, miracling a box of matches into his hand swearing as he broke the match he was so desperately trying to light. He could have just miracled the perfect bath but it was that little extra effort of struggling with a match to light the candles that made it special.

Finally after several match casualties the candle lit. Satisfied, he slipped his robe off and set it gingerly next to the fluffy towels neatly folded on the floor. He made sure that it was slightly away from the tub do it wouldn’t get wet. Aziraphale had gotten that robe back in 1508 and he swore up and down that nothing else would ever compare. It felt like a cloud, a mix of silk and wool that the creator had taken to the grave literally. It was worn from the centuries of use but that only made it more comfortable, perfectly adjusted to his form. He remembers insisting on Crowley getting a robe as well but was rejected on the grounds of, “I don’t even have a house where would I put this angel?”, said as if he didn’t have the pocket space to keep his endless supply of glasses. If he remembered correctly Crowley didn’t keep them in the pocket space anymore rather displaying them in his flat. Gosh, it had been forever since he had been in Crowley’s flat. He liked to move every once in a while to remain inconspicuous. Was he still in the one on 5th Street or- As he felt a draft his ears tinged pink. He wasn’t in the tub yet, he had spaced out thinking of Crowley again. It seemed to be a much more common experience since 1941. Willing his blush down he stepped into the tub and dear lord that felt good. With a little wiggle, he slid into the tub with a happy little hum. The bubbles enveloped him and as he heard the fizzle of his bath bomb he knew exactly what this bath needed. With a snap of his fingers, he summoned a bottle of champagne and glasses. 

Glasses…

He sighed looking at the pair of glasses he had summoned rather than the one glass he had intended. It was almost second nature at this point to summon two things rather than one. It was always him and Crowley, never just him  That wasn’t a problem no, in fact, he loved it when they were together! It was his feelings and attachment that was the problem. Aziraphale sighed, a light blush tinting his cheeks as he slid lower onto the bubbles. He could barely keep his cool around the devil anymore, every time he swaggered into sight his thoughts just flew straight out the window. How on Earth did Crowley walk like that? The demon had been strutting like that for centuries yet it always stunned him. He grumbled to himself about the unfairness of feelings as he poured himself a glass of champagne leaving the other one alone. It’s not like he wasn’t acting on his feelings. True he wasn’t outright telling him that he was in love, god how would that go ‘thanks for dinner hey just wanted to let you know I’m in love with you’. No, he decidedly wasn’t doing that but he was acting on his feelings. Honestly after centuries of friendship, one would think that Crowley would see his change in behavior! The more common calls, the frequent invitations for him to come to the bookshop for a drink and the physical touches, the shoulder bumps and countless hand brushes. Aziraphale was practically screaming his affection from the rooftops, he loved Crowley he really did but he was oblivious! Little did Aziraphale know that Crowley had felt this way for centuries, constantly trying to tempt him into hanging out he was just as if not more oblivious. The bathroom was silent as the fizzer finally dissolved, but Aziraphale didn’t even notice too lost in his lovesick thoughts. God, he had seen Crowley two days ago! He shouldn’t be pining this hard they even had a dinner planned this Saturday. The sound logic, however, was lost on his feelings as they cried out for him to see his demon again. He shifted in the tub the water sloshing around him. Crowley’s this and Crowley that! He needed to get a grip on himself, he wouldn’t accomplish anything moping like this. His feelings didn’t share the same sentiment still pining and distracting him from what was supposed to be a relaxing bath. This was getting ridiculous he didn’t need to be with Crowley every minute of every day. But God did he want too. He wanted to preen his black wings, read as Crowley slept beside him, he wanted to stroll in their favorite park hand in hand, and dear God did he want to kiss him. Most of all he just wanted to be with Crowley even if it was just restocking the shop or taking a bath togeth-

A loud pop filled Aziraphale’s ears that certainly didn’t come from the bath and suddenly something dropped into his bathtub. Aziraphale pushed against the back of the tub something thrashed in his tub. The water sloshed around spilling on the floor, bubbles and black feathers flying through the air. 

Black Feathers?

Wings jerked awkwardly in the air as the body they were attached too was still submerged. Aziraphale pushed further back in the tub his complexion turning pale. He hadn’t summoned the demon, had he?! Oh God, his pining had actually brought Crowley here! He wanted the demon to know how he felt but not like this! The demon finally emerged from the bubbles still thrashing. “What the bloody-hak- Who dares?! hak WHO DARES SUMMON ME?!” Crowley looked around wildly noticing the black candles littered around the room common in summonings. He swears if those god damned teenage girls had summoned him again he was going to kill Stephanie. The snarl on his face faltered as he saw a disgruntled angel covered in bubbles sitting in the bathtub next to him. “Zira? What on Earth-” Aziraphale we blushed at the nickname and desperately tried to keep his panic from showing. Oh, who was he kidding he felt like he might just discorporate on the spot. Floundering the angel tried to say something along the lines of either ‘Crowley what on Earth are you doing here’ or ‘I summoned you by accident but I still want you here because I’m desperately in love with you’ but all that came out was, 

“Champagne?”