Aziraphale woke up to a tide of scarlet curls brushing against his face, and at once, he knew he'd never seen a finer morning.

He wasn't entirely sure what had woken him - his stomach growled, which was his leading suspicion (I suppose I never got around to eating any dinner last night), but the room was also filled with brilliant golden light as the sun was finally angled to spill sunlight into his room.

Regardless, he couldn't find the will to move just yet, as much as his belly complained. He nuzzled into Crowley's hair, his arms still wrapped around his waist. He was the perfect little spoon, he decided. He found the very fact that he enjoyed being cradled in this way extremely enjoyable.

Some might have laughed at Crowley for admitting he liked to be held like this, but who were they to ridicule him? Everyone needed support and had their own vices, and if people just went around shaming others for their needs then the world would be a miserable, shameful place.

Aziraphale placed a soft kiss to the back of Crowley's head, and the serpentine man grumbled softly, shifting but not quite waking. His jaw fell open and he quietly snored.

"Crowley," Aziraphale murmured, his voice rising in a sing-song tone which surprised himself. Crowley groaned, a little louder this time, and Aziraphale kissed his angular jaw. "Morning, sleepyhead."

"Not enough sleep," he moaned, nuzzling into his pillow.

"It's at least noon, my dear."

"Ngk..."

Aziraphale chuckled and traced a line of soft kisses up Crowley's jaw to his temple. "Will I have to tempt you up?"

"Wouldn't have thought that to be your scene. You surprise me, angel." Crowley's voice was hoarse and cracking with sleep, and it broke Aziraphale's heart in the best way possible. He shifted to hover slightly above his newfound love, brushing his red mop of hair away from his face so he could lavish it with more gentle kisses. Crowley lay there, a smile spreading across his face and his eyes still firmly shut. He moved his hand to take Aziraphale's, interlocking their fingers and giving his hand a grateful squeeze.

"You're my scene," Aziraphale mumbled, and Crowley's eyes finally opened. They moved to lock with Zira's, and his heart skipped a beat. They both stayed there for a moment, admiring each other, before Crowley pushed himself up onto his elbows to capture Aziraphale's lips with his own. "Ngk," he grumbled again, this time into Zira's mouth. The hoarseness in his voice was very much still present, but the usual edge was slowly returning to his tone. Aziraphale drank it up like nectar.

The two wrestled with each other's mouths for several minutes, drunk on their newfound desire for each other. They lost themselves in each other, occasionally stopping to take breathers, laugh in giddy bliss, and firmly remind the other how much they were desired, needed, loved. It was crazy and rapid and shocking, and they both loved it.

After a while, Aziraphale stopped the kiss, giggling as his stomach growled.

"Cr-Crowley, come on. We should eat."

Crowley laughed, throwing his head back at the sound of Zira's empty belly. "Thought you wanted to tempt me."

"Did I not?"

Crowley's eyes were dark and a mischievous grin split his face in two. "Right. Yes, we should eat. Can't have a hungry angel on my watch, can I?" Aziraphale blushed pulled him down, desperate to kiss him again. Crowley evaded his lips, however, instead snaking around to pepper soft kisses up Aziraphale's jaw, just as Aziraphale had done to him minutes earlier. He took it a step further and lightly took his earlobe between his teeth, biting down on it. Aziraphale made a noise that would have made nuns blush, his own cheeks flushing dark red.

"Ah, ah... Crowley, I..." He couldn't say much more than that as Crowley nibbled up his ear, puring like a wild animal. He was a feral jungle cat, a creeping jackal, a snake eyeing up its prey before pouncing, and Aziraphale loved it.

"You like it?" Crowley whispered hoarsely into Aziraphale's ear, and he almost fell apart.

"I..."

"I think you do," he purred. "But if, at any point, you don't enjoy this? You tell me." He paused and lifted his eyes, pinning Aziraphale to the bed with his molten gaze. "Can you do that? I won't ever do anything that you don't want to do. I want to thrill you, make you happy... and I will be decisive if I need to be. Do you understand?"

Aziraphale nodded breathlessly, and Crowley pressed a soft kiss to his lips before backing away and getting up. Aziraphale was flushed, his blood most decidedly not focused in his head, and rather instead somewhere much more south, but he said nothing.

"Time for lunch," Crowley smiled, and he nodded silently, letting his blush fade.

The pair got up and Crowley politely turned away to let Aziraphale dress. Once he was decently clothed, he padded over and slid his arms around Crowley's waist, pressing a kiss to the middle of his back, between his shoulder blades.

"Mine," he grinned, and Crowley snorted, twisting his neck as far as it would go to try and see Aziraphale behind him.

"Yes, yes, all yours," he chuckled. He reached around and playfully tickled Aziraphale's waist, and he jumped away with a squeal.

"Not fair!"

"That's how I roll, sweetheart. Come on, let's get you fed. You didn't even eat last night, did you? You must be starving..."


Crowley led Aziraphale down to the large hall where the castlefolk had been gathered the previous night for dinner. He ignored the servants laying the table to prepare for the staff lunch and strolled to the back of the room, knocking on a heavy wooden door.

"Ey, Ligur? Got a friend here who needs feeding."

"We all need feeding!" a gruff voice responded. "Piss off."

"Come on, now. He didn't have anything to eat last night."

"Well, that's his own damn fault! Piss-off! Don't make me tell you again."

Aziraphale swallowed uncomfortably and gently took a hold of Crowley's wrist.

"My dear, we should just wait. They'll be serving soon, anyway..."

"Angel, relax. The food'll already be done and waiting, believe me. I just want to make sure we can go eat in privacy. I'll have Newt served as well, so don't worry about him."

"Right," Aziraphale murmured nervously, looking around. He felt like a frightened child following the orders of a rebellious teenager, knowing that he was bending the rules but not quite brave enough to make a decision on whether or not he was alright with it. He felt a slight tickle in his chest at the thought that Crowley would annoy the kitchen staff just for him, especially when he knew he must have worked with them once on his way up to becoming a general, but he found he was mostly just worried about the security of Crowley's hard-earned career when he'd worked so hard to secure a position of respect.

Crowley opened the door a sliver, much to Ligur's disapproval, but he only whispered something out of Aziraphale's hearing range which caused the kitchen staff to go silent, and soon enough both he and a very much stunned 'angel' were walking away, bowls of chickpea and lamb soup in their hands.

"Crowley, how-?"

"Just use your imagination, angel. Everything is fine."

Aziraphale blushed, finding the idea rather flustering. He held his soup bowl in one hand, weaving his other sneakily around the crook of Crowley's elbow. He noticed those golden eyes shifting down to glance at him for a brief second, saw the corner of those lips tilting up in a coy grin, but Aziraphale just chewed on the inside of his cheek and walked with him, staring straight ahead in what was probably a ridiculous-looking attempt at acting natural.

Once they were out of the dining hall and away from any prying eyes, Crowley grinned wider, baring his teeth.

"I thought you said no public shows of affection."

"Oh, th-that was hardly anything inappropriate," Aziraphale stammered. He knew he'd been called out, but he just couldn't hand himself. He couldn't help but want to be close to him.

"Oh, I'm not complaining."

"No?"

"Not at all."

The pair descended into slightly nervous giggles. This must be what they refer to as a 'honeymoon period', Aziraphale vaguely thought to himself. He felt totally enraptured by everything his devilish lover said and did, and was utterly delighted at the thought of spending each waking moment by his side.

Crowley led him to a balcony overlooking the sea, Aziraphale assumed on the floor above that where they slept, and there they enjoyed a thoroughly wonderful lunch. Crowley pointed out the various seafowl floating far above as they ate, starting some delightfully flirtatious debates about which was which.

"I swear that's a gull..."

"No, angel, no, it's got a wedge tail, it's..."

"Oh, but the length of those wings..."

"I'll show you a wingspan."

"Why, General, I could almost think you're spouting euphemisms."

"Ohh, you'd be thinking correctly..."

It was peaceful and pure, and it was theirs.

It was theirs, at least, until a servant burst onto the balcony, gasping for breath.

"General Crowley! Lord Dagon must speak with you!" he stammered, his voice wheezing. He doubled over, slapping both hands onto his thighs as he caught his breath. Crowley swept to his feet, immediately assuming a professional face.

"What's going on?" he asked, his voice stern and totally different from the gentle, almost hoarse tones he used with Aziraphale.

"They... the... Li..."

"Calm down," Crowley stepped forwards as he spoke. He looked entirely dangerous, but also entirely on their side. "Breathe."

The servant panted, nodding.

"The... the border guards just returned to the palace, wounded..." he looked up, his face growing pale. "The Light have brought down the Wall."


Things moved rather quickly from there.

Crowley was pulled away, out of Aziraphale's arms, and into the swirling chaos ensuing soon thereafter. The corridors echoed with frightened wails as the Dark prepared for the possible upcoming war. Families from nearby towns arrived and filtered into the castle, clutching their sobbing childrens' hands tightly as they were ushered away to protection.

Aziraphale was on his own, feeling very much like a deer in the headlights as preparations happened in a whirl around him, until he was grabbed and pulled towards his room by guards, most likely looking to lock him away until they had a clear idea of what was happening next, but he fiercely pulled his hands away.

"Don't touch me!" he snapped. "I need to speak with General Crowley!"

"The General will be preparing his troops for battle," one of the guards explained curtly. His voice cut with acid, and Aziraphale identified hatred and distrust there.

Of course... I'm from the Light. The realisation that many probably blamed him for what was happening and so he was to be locked away both for his own protection as well as to make sure he couldn't pull any tricks in such a fragile time. Gritting his teeth, Aziraphale clenched his hands into fists.

"I need to speak to Crowley," he reiterated, turning and pelting down the hall. The guards yelled obscenities after him and his lungs burned as he powered through corridor after busy corridor, but nothing could possibly have prevented him from trying to get to his love. It was newfound and budding, but it was theirs, and it was all Aziraphale really had.

He fled to the front entrance, looking around in desperation, waiting for troops, or anything to approach. He desperately hoped for a flash of red hair to catch his vision, for a glimpse of those fiery serpentine eyes, but nothing came, and he waited helplessly as the crowds slowly filtered out. It wasn't until he heard the tell-tale rhythmic thudding of soldier's boots that he realised they were already on the march.

I've missed him.

Throwing open the enormous door - or, at least, prying it open with great difficulty and just choosing to call it throwing - he bolted into the main courtyard, where he could see battalions headed out towards the wall. Almost invisible at such a range, at the head of the troops, sat a tall, slender figure atop a horse, with hair burning like fire in the wind. Crowley.

"I've lost him," Aziraphale choked back a sob, falling to his knees. "I had him for less than a day, and I've lost him."


Author's Note:

So sorry for the delay. It's been... a very difficult couple of weeks, filled with illness, stress, and a very intense schedule (which I thought was lightening up but in fact I may be mistaken), and so I've just been doing all I can. I've also been working on another fanfiction project on the side - also centred around good omens, but just a long one-shot rather than a whole series, like this one.

Now we're finally getting into the meat of the story!