Ineffable husbands one shots

~Dancing in the golden light~

If you think that a kiss is all in the lips,
cmon.
You got it all wrong man,
And if you think that our dance was all in the hips,
Oh well.
Then do the twist,
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The soft crackling of the record player echoed in the background as the dusty book shelves lay still and actually; desperately savouring the peace an quite. Delicately, the morning sun crept threw the gaps in the curtains, illuminating the dust specs and transforming them into tiny golden dancers. Lushes green plants dotted around the room: some colossal and towering; some small just to fill and empty space that needed love ; a few medium on shelves or just generally lazily scattered around the place.
A white haired man, with pink pudgy cheeks and a smile that beamed like the sun, was currently playing with a certain lanky red-heads hair, cooking his fingers around odd tufts of flame and admiring the rising and falling of his lovers chest. The angel -commonly known as Aziraphale- drew circles on the back of his head, massaging the sleepy boy and humming contently to the opening line of "After hours". Frozen in time, like it's own little bubble of peace for no one but the two to be in, the shop empty shop revelled in the love emitting from the tartan chairs.
"And if you close ...the door," Aziraphale murmured in pure bliss, nodding his head up and down to the melody of the music. He felt the warmth radiating off of Crowley and treasured the feeling of his limp arms wrapped around Aziraphale and the way his head felt resting in the crook of his neck. A small squeak left Aziraphale lips when Crowley composedly began to stir awake.
"The night could last for ever," Crowley matched the mumbling of Aziraphales last line and let the music float around them- hoping for it to encase them for ever in that momentary perfection.
"morning, darling" Aziraphale planted a light kiss on the serpents head; he clicked his fingers and a steaming cup of hot chocolate appeared in his hand.
With an exasperated sigh Crowley tilted his head up to meet the angels eyes. Aziraphale had the magic ability to make Crowley feel like a 13 year old girl, butterflies swarming his stomach and always getting lost deep inside his eyes: Blue, like the ocean, but so sad and distant yet content and set on seeing the benevolence in life.
"Morning ,Angel." Crowley mustered a weak smile and his bed hair flopped onto his forehead whilst his golden eyes glittered in the morning sun.
Aziraphale relished in the site. He Simpered down at the love of his life in all his glory: he traced every wrinkle, every curve, every scar and every tiny freckle engraved into the demons face. Cupping crowleys cheek, he lured him closer to his own face and whispered "you're extraordinary ,my dear. I hope you know that." Crowley could only blush and convey a small amount of gratitude before averting the conversation in fear of mass embarrassment.
"dance with me, please"
"Crowley-i. You know Angels don't dance."
"really?" Aziraphale stared into the floor, a poor attempt at dodging Crowleys disappointed gaze, and an even worse attempt at ignoring the twang of insinuation laying in his partners voice. "Because, i seem to rember a certain angel dancing the Gavotte quite well..." He trailed off as he noticed the red gathering on his angles cheeks.
"fine. You've succeeded in your foolish games, now get up you wiley serpent" He giggled, lightly, placing the cup on the table
Crowley got up groggily but soon snapped out of his tired state to turn around dramatically. "HOW RUDE!" He brought his hand to his heart and doubled over hysterically trying to hide the smile on his face.
With that, the chubby gentle man seized him from his melodramatic state and placed his hand on his waist signalling for Crowley to wrap his arms around his neck. He willingly obliged.
After hours was now blaring out the second verse and the two men swayed harmoniously to the soft beat, Crowley resting his head in the crook of his angles neck once more; tenderly kissing his collar bone with love. Summoning his wings on instinct, Aziraphale coiled them around Crowley and himself as if shielding anyone (who happened to be taking an early morning stroll in central London ) from seeing a site that was his and only his to admire. Plants that usually trembled in the prescience of the callous demon now willingly rejoiced to the intoxicating melody without a fear in the world. Romance books watched with tears glistening in their pages as they watched the personified versions of them selves . The aroma of vanilla ,parchment, tobacco and sleep wafted around the air: everything was perfect.
The way the golden light seeped threw the cracks in his angles wings and grazed Crowleys face ,the way the wood would stick to the angles slippers every now and then, the way that everything lay appeased and reticent: perfect.
"hello..."
"you're my very special one."
And as the song came to an end they attached lips, the culminating end to a supreme dance. They moved together in unison and hands found their way inside crowleys hair ,massaging his hand threw it and tugging at it lightly.Tongues danced around eachother and chocolate from the night before lingered in Aziraphale mouth. Purely from lust, they held the kiss for as long as either party could bare before inevitably pulling away, red faced and breathe less.
6 years of marriage, and every morning still starts like a honey moon.