it has been longer than aziraphale wished since they had done this. the picnic basket had been packed long before @snakeyedemon had shown up. it was supposed to be a splendid evening outside of tadfield, the newspaper had reported that morning. even if crowley hadn't asked for this in a while, it was a task they were always happy to perform. ❛ try not to dawdle, dear. i want to make it before sunset so we can properly enjoy this goût de diamants. ❜ their french is stilted, their accent abysmal, but they hold up the bottle of champagne with a wide smile. when they're finally on the road, the angel holds onto their demon's hand the entire way, a book in their other. there's some music in the background, bepop, but they don't complain. not with this feeling in their chest, love and happiness. properly content.
aziraphale watches as crowley unfolds the blanket onto the green grass, freshly mowed. she's only slightly muttering to herself as she does it and he grins wider. it stops of course, when she pops the champagne and they produce two plastic champagne flutes from the picnic basket. ❛ did you think we'd be drinking from the bottle, you old serpent ? ❜ he teases, pressing their shoulders together as they fill both of their glasses. the clink of the glasses together is not as satisfying as if it were actual glass, but it will do just fine. it's not as if he notices, not with the way he is currently being looked at, bright yellow eyes watching. his favorite sight on earth, their eyes.
as the sun finally sets and the chocolate strawberries are finished, the pair of them lean back against the blanket. crowley's eyes never leave his face, not once. when they speak now, it's quieter, more subdued. they paint pictures of colors beyond the human imagination and patterns of stars coupled together. the big dipper and cassiopeia are what they identify first, free arm moving as they point. they think that their demon has only loved one thing they way they love him ; space. the very thing they helped create becomes his biggest punishment. it's torture for them in a way he had never once been able to understand, even as hundreds of years pass.
when aziraphale stops, turning to where crowley is curled into them, and leaning over to press a quick kiss against her lips. ❛ you made the world more beautiful. and i, for one, thank you for it. ❜
