Chapter Text
"So, what is yours?"
"Huh?" Crowley, who was currently sat on a sofa in an ungodly way and nursing an almost empty wine glass, stared at Aziraphale for a hot minute with his mouth partially open and mind just as partially computing his thoughts. Aziraphale could swear he heard a low static noise coming from Crowley as if he was a dusty old machine, trying to recollect what was the topic of their discussion.
Favorite fruit, it was. Just after favorite colors and favorite movies, as they had agreed to play some old card game which pretty much just gave them discussion prompts. Aziraphale accidentally bought it along with a bunch of very old editions of Anne of Green Gables he had spotted at a yard sale thanks to some conveniently placed bell chimes miracle that would go off and update him on details, whenever some interesting misprints or editions were up for grabs in the area. He was pretty proud in that miracle and honestly grateful too, he had needed Crowley's hand in it after all.
Truth be told he didn't know the cards were there in the box and he couldn't care less about them but since Crowley fished them out and started going through them, intrigued, that cocky eyebrow raised, he figured they might as well play them and celebrate the complicated co-op miracle actually working with a bottle of wine. Or two. Or a whole casket, why not.
The card game had no real instruction with it and he was pretty sure they weren't exactly playing it right but who really cares about it. Having something decide the route of their conversation was entertaining enough.
"Passionfruit." Crowley spat out finally, the humming, whirring halting to a stop in his throat.
"Really? Very on brand for your lot" angel laughed, clearly aiming at the joke hidden in the name. The Passion fruit, you know.
"Yes, well. Other fruit juss... just pale in comparison."
"How so?"
If he had thought it was a somewhat flirtatious slash the-tempting-demon-type-of-humor pick at first, he has since dropped that idea, hearing the contemplative note of Crowley's tone. It sounded like there's more to it, clearly, and Aziraphale's not really big on ruining that for him. Quite the contrary, he was always eager to dive deeper into demon's bizarre thinking process, when he ever gets the chance. He got plenty of chances today, thanks to that little game. Who knows, maybe the cards were actually a more valuable purchase than the books.
Just maybe.
"Well, mm, y'see, others you can bite into. Mush em up, peel em, eat em raw, eat em hot, baked, dipped in chocolate, whatever" He watched Crowley blurring the words attentively, trying his best not to make mental connections to much more unmentionable acts than just eating a fruit, the culinary way. "You'll be sated. And if you're not, y'just, take another one and you are. Aight?"
"Right..." Aziraphale cocked his eyebrow ever so slightly. There IS an underlying thought under all that, he's not crazy, right?
"Well, passionfruit though" Crowley hiccupped lightly and slid down the couch by a centimeter or two, reached for his tie to loosen it up some more and popped two buttons of his shirt, seemingly unaware he's being watched. Or was he? "Passionfruit's just different" he stumbles over words. "S'mthin... We rarely get to experience. Y'know?"
Truth be told Aziraphale would be just as lost in that thread of thought if he wasn't so distracted with a bob of Crowley's exposed Adam's apple and a quick flex of skin over the valley of prominent collarbones as he was downing the last drops of wine in his glass.
"I-... To be quite honest, no, not really?" His words just barely managed to not get stuck in his throat because Crowley was momentarily bending forward to reach for a bottle stood on the coffee table near his own knee and that knee burned from the proximity. He usually does not allow himself so much thinking when Crowley is around with defenses laid lower, all blushed from the heat of alcohol in his veins. But today, he just can't gather himself, somehow. He was suddenly highly aware of all the tendons in demon's outstretched arm as they danced under his skin for a mere second.
"Right." Crowley rested back against the couch, pouring himself more alcohol. If the angel was showing any of his... fixated thoughts on the surface, the demon was either graciously offering to not notice them - or was just drunkenly unaware, Aziraphale thought. "Us being eternal, well, beings and all that jazz we don't get to experience much of that fleetin' feelin' like humans do."
"Well, I suppose so-"
"And bam! There's passionfruit!" He said so pompously that a red lock shook and dropped to his forehead and little bit of wine sloshed over the edge of his glass. Angel watched as burgundy droplets lazily made their way down and pooled over Crowley's long, thin fingers. It shouldn't feel as erotic as it did to him in that second. He couldn't pull his eyes away so he opted for drowning a deeper breath in his own glass as he took a sip.
Crowley continued.
"You can't sate yourself with it, you don't bite it, don't chew it, y'just split it open 'nd inside there's precisely one spoonful with no... Err- what's the word for it" Crowley scratched his arm thinking intensely, a wrinkle between his brows. A wrinkle angel knew so well he could draw it on paper with his eyes closed. "Fiber! No fiber to it. 'ts just essence, angel. A spoonful of seedy essence. And you put it in your mouth and it's FLAVORTOWN extravaganza, it's fireworks in your mouth, it's sparks, it's almost too much, but it's just for a second. Then you get to just ride that memory of flavor in your mouth for a while and miss it but you know it'll never be enough, even tho for some-" Crowley grunted and took a sip, the wine droplets making their grand escape down his hand, disappearing below the cuff of his shirt "for some it can be too much. Too fast."
Aziraphale's breath hitched for a split second. Crowley was not talking about fruit at all, was he.
And in that manner too! Blasphemous.
You go too fast for me, Crowley.
He swallowed the memory with a sour face.
"Passionfruit is the fleetin' moment, angel. A blip in the endless space and time. Suddenly here and suddenly gone."
He wasn't looking at Aziraphale, eyes fixed on the wall ahead, though not seeing it at all. Maybe if he had his glasses on he could have stolen a sneaky glance at the angel - Aziraphale could see those glances by the way - but he had not, so he stared ahead, glass of old wine hanging in his outstretched, red stained palm, hair not as perfectly shaped as when he walked into the bookshop this evening. Aziraphale had had for years taken pride in reading his emotions but at this point, he was not sure he had truly known any of them. Ever. Because right now, like living through an epiphany, he thought it clicked. He understood.
The passionfruit.
The fleeting moments of their hands brushing, of their exchanged unwarranted kindness which they should not allow themselves at all. Of quick but honest glances when the other isn't looking or is pretending not to see. Of silent accomodations of the other's preferences, of unspoken compromises. Of hands ready to help without being asked and without a thank you. The images of an Adam's apple bobbing as one drinks, of wine droplets meandering down his skin burned in his memory. Of all the tiny things that, once alone, fill his head with thoughts and he guarantees none of them are in the Bible.
Demon has been feeding him a lot with those passionfruit today, hasn't he?
"Crowley- " he started but he stuttered as soon as he felt Crowley's full attention shift to himself, not exactly ready for it, too drunk to put those thoughts into a box and close the lid. Demon didn't really watch, but he listened intently. "I don't- think fruit were really my thing per se so far-" he started cautiously and internally swiped a palm over his own face, at how badly this could have been interpreted. Just like too fast for me. "-but I-"
"Nonsense" Crowley choked laughter, taking a dive in his glass, then falling forward to rest both elbows on his knees, arms hanging loosely, golden eyes fixed on Aziraphale's. He smiled with just half of his face, something firey sparked in his eye. Aziraphale was suddenly and intensely aware of how Crowley's glass nearly rested on his own thigh now. "You like fruit."
"I've barely eaten any-"
"You just eat it cooked. Prepared. Baked Transformed. You don't like it raw, do ye."
What? Aziraphale's brain was swimming, trying to understand what on Earth is this a metaphor for. He thought he knew, but did he? Fruit was people, right? Sex with people? No? And the passionfruit was the rare, forbidden sparks between the two of them specifically, right? Was it even a metaphor at all or is Crowley straight up talking about his desserts and Aziraphale's been just... Misreading it as the strangest confession?
He moved his mouth without a sound, unsure what the Hell is even an adequate answer to that.
"I know you, angel." Crowley mused, clearly pleased with himself though Aziraphale was still drawing a blank on the meaning of all this. "I've watched you eat for centuries."
Well, he has. He did tempt him successfully and since then he loved watching him eat. But is that what he meant or...
"M'point is" Crowley said, fixing his sitting position, leaning more forwards, as if he was excited to reveal the key to understanding this confusion filled discussion. Aziraphale subconsciously matched his excitement. "Ma point is you don't eat passionfruit like I do angel, it's too much for you. That's m'point."
Yeah, no, the key opened nothing. No unlocking clicks and just more doors behind this one. He blinked slowly, trying his absolute hardest, as much as alcohol allowed, to decipher the demon.
"Crowley, I'm-... What-" he hesitated finally, not wanting silence to stretch so much. "What exactly are we talking about here?"
"Fruit, angel, catch up. What did you think we were talking about?"
"Y-yes. Right. Fruit." He half coughed in his fist, trying to gather himself, his brain busting at seams. Everything was SO confusing. Demons lie and demons read between lines, right? Well then, better safe than sorry for another hundred years. He braced himself. "I guess I-er. Guess I would like to try some passionfruit with you, if you don't mind horribly. See if it's still too much?"
He hanged the double or triple lidded question in the air. Crowley looked at him with a slowly growing grin.
"Y'sure about that angel?"
"Well I can't know for sure until I taste the fruit, right?"
"Sure" Crowley's smile was all teeth and he looked like he was admiring something particularly wicked happening live. It knocked Aziraphale's unnecessarily beating heart off beat and with that fluttering heart he picked his back off the armchair and leaned forward, stopping mere centimetres from Crowley's face. He could feel demon's hot exhale on his lips and their noses brushed.
Crowley slowly ventured with his gaze over Aziraphale's slightly parted lips. He locked their eyes and angel felt like he could melt. Itching to touch Crowley, but unsure if he could, he loosely linked his fingers in his own lap.
He heard Crowley putting glass of wine haphazardly on the coffee table and soon enough something in his stomach was twisting with pleasure and expectation because Crowley's thumb, smelling like spilled wine, ghastly ran over his lower lip. He held his breath in and-.
"Here." Crowley muttered, unloading something into his hands, their skin brushing on the way. This something was light and round and a plenty. Aziraphale, confused peeked down to see that Crowley had snapped into existence what must have been a whole bag or two of fresh passionfruit. They were spilling all over his thighs and rolling onto the rug below.
"Wh-" he choked out, confused to the Heaven and back but as he raised his eyes Crowley was already up, off and behind the sofa, stretching his lanky limbs and back, and walking towards the door.
"Have fun, see if you like em. Night, angel!" He sing-songed exceptionally pleased with himself. "Use a spoon!" And then the door of the bookshop clicked close and Aziraphale was just sitting there alone, dumbfounded and (as often, actually) aroused with no outlet.
In a big pile of fruit.
"What did just happen?"