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Why were there so many books, just books, and more books. And shelves for the books he supposed. But that was most of the furniture. Besides the couch he was laying on.
“Aziraphale?”
“Hmm?”
“You don’t think the place could use some décor?”
“Crowley.”
He turned his head, Aziraphale was looking over his glasses at him. He didn’t even need them.
“Your interior design is no better.”
Rude, he just didn't like the clutter.
“I have art at least, couldn’t you… I don’t know, throw up a painting or something?”
“Art.” Aziraphale mused flatly “And where, pray tell, is this art? Storage?”
So high and mighty on his armchair wasn't he?
“That sketch is priceless!”
“Oh, that art” Rolling eyes now? Really? “Yes, it’s very nice.”
“Sarcasm angel? S'not like you.”
“It’s just an interesting use of the word, my dear.”
“Mhmm..” Well if that’s how he was going to be, then he wouldn’t help with decorations.
He could have fallen asleep, really, it was calm and quiet, but Aziraphale spoke up again, still on about paintings apparently.
“There’s this lovely little exhibit around the corner, you know. We could get you some real art. They have some nice pieces I do think you would enjoy.”
Now that brought a smile to Crowley’s face
“Aziraphale, what are you doing at an art exhibit? I know you don’t like that sort of thing.”
“Perhaps not, but when I saw it pop up, I thought of you. So I went over to take a look. See if there was anything I could get you. As a gift.”
“You…” No, he had to sit up for this, look Aziraphale in the eye. He had to be lying. Right?
“You were going to get me a gift?”
“Of course I was dear.” How was he saying all this so calmly? “I do love you, you know?”
That was enough of that, Crowley bolted off the couch, and took several fast paced strides towards the door, startling Aziraphale in the process.
“Crowley?” He stood up, taking after him. Why was he following?
“Hmm?” His voice was so shaken. He needed to get out of there. So why wouldn’t he take the last steps needed to get to the door? It was right there.
“Whatever are you doing? Are you alright?”
He felt a hand brush against his arm. Quickly, he spun around, throwing it off, only problem was, now he was facing Aziraphale.
“Just fine Angel” He knew the strained smile on his face said otherwise.
“Are you sure my dear? I'm a bit worried about you now.”
“Ha!” Crowley threw his head back so hard he had to take another step back to compensate. That, or fall over. At least he was closer to the door. He didn’t know how much longer he could be here.
“That’s funny Angel, but you really shouldn’t say things like that. Cause you don’t mean ‘em” That, he was sure of, Aziraphale caring about him? Loving him? That was laughable, they were friends. Nothing more, they were never going to be anything more. It wasn't possible.
“What?” And, as bemused as he may have looked, Aziraphale had chuckled out the word, a laughable notion indeed.
“See Angel, you keep saying these crazy things, like you love me, or care about me. But, thing is, you don’t. Cause you’re sssmarter than that.”
“I beg your pardon?” He took another step forward. Why was he doing that? He shouldn't be doing that.
Crowley was panicking. No, that didn't make any sense. Why was he panicking? Why was he shaking? None of this was right. His legs felt like they might give out. He was going to fall.
He jerked his body back, away from the hands reaching for him. The door was so close, just a few steps now.
“Ngk- now wait, this isn’t- why are you- what- ssstop-“ Several half baked thoughts crowded his head, all of them trying to be voiced at once. He could feel them crawling up his throat, pushing their way into his mouth. He rolled them around on his tongue. They tasted like desperation. And fear.
To his relief, Aziraphale had stopped advancing on him, he dropped his reaching hands as well, Crowley felt like he could breathe for a moment. It was short lived.
“Crowley… Darling?”
He stumbled, catching himself on the entryway bookstand. A sob he didn’t manage to force back behind his teeth went with him. It tasted like sorrow, and longing.
“Don’t, Aziraphale. Just-” Why wasn’t anything making sense? His hair had become disheveled. He had taken to running his fingers through it, just for something to do with his hands.
“Aziraphale, you can't do this. You don't know what could happen. You don't want to find out how wrong all this could go. Pleassse.”
There was a shuffling of feet. Aziraphale was coming closer, slowly. It wouldn’t matter anyway, Crowley didn’t have the energy to run anymore. He was so tired.
The hand that lifted his head was so… gentle. He never did anything to deserve that kindness.
Looking Aziraphale in the eye only made everything worse. He was trying so hard not to cry. This wasn't safe. They were going to hurt his Angel.
“Crowley. You aren’t making any sense, my dear. What do you think is going to happen?”
Aziraphale was somehow able to find an answer in his eyes. He would never understand how he was able to do that.
“Darling, why won't you allow yourself to have this?” The words were laced with understanding that he didn't deserve.
No matter how hard he had tried, it was apparent that, in the end, Crowley's efforts were futile. Aziraphale just brushed the tears away.
His words staggered once he finally found his voice. “I don't- want anything to happen to you.”
“There you go, and what do you think will happen Crowley?”
Aziraphale was always so patient when helping the demon untangle his thoughts. Gently coaxing him through the knots his mind had been snared in.
“I don't want- you can’t-” Another sob cut him off. The swirling flavors of tragedy and love were warm and bitter. The tears, cold and salty. “I would never want you to meet the same fate I did Aziraphale. I’m not worth the pain loving me would cause you.” The stitched smile on his face, a strained plea to stop this while they still could.
The bastard never listened to him though, did he? Reading between the lines to decipher what he was really saying.
“Crowley you will always be worth it to me. Falling could never compare to the pain I would feel without having you here. My darling, if love is the greatest sin I could commit, I want it to be for you, that I turn from the heavens for. I would never truly be cast into darkness with you there as my sun.”
“I- God Aziraphale. I don’t know what to say.”
The hand on his face, holding him in reverence, pulled him gently closer.
“That's alright my dear.”
After everything, even him being what he was. Fallen. He was allowed this? The one thing he had never stopped yearning for. It had left a long lasting taste of char on the back of his tongue.
He let Aziraphale guide him closer.
“Y'sure Angel?”
Aziraphale just smiled sweetly at him.
The loving press of soft lips, a gentle hand on his face pulling him close, the other, snaking around his waist, and Aziraphale’s confession still ringing in his ears. It was all so much. So many things happening at once.
Crowley scrambled for something to grab, anything. A lifeline. A purchase. Just something to do with his hands, anything to distract himself.
The quiet haze in his head was disrupted as Aziraphale pulled back, his head filled with swirling thoughts once more. Crowley stared through Aziraphale’s eyes, unable to grasp any of his thoughts, passing through reaching fingers like smoke.
His Angel was watching him, staring into his eyes in turn, a soft smile, bright like gold on his face. He was quiet, allowing Crowley all the time he needed to search through his racing thoughts.
Crowley understood now. How Aziraphale could see so clearly what he was really saying with just a glance. It was so obvious now. He could see the question in Aziraphale’s eyes. ‘What do you want, my dear?’
What did he want? His thoughts were so tangled with each other. Where did it all end?
What if they ended?
He wanted a future. To be with Aziraphale, beside him always. He wanted to be Aziraphale’s Sun.
And, above all, Crowley is an optimist. So, he held onto that idea, feeling his voice shake, and he spoke.
“Do it again- please…” Over and over, his head replayed the same words. Do it again, please. Do it over and over.
New hope tasted like the freedom of flight, and vintage wine.
Aziraphale tasted like love. The warmth of pressing lips was something he had wished to be allowed to have for so long, he never wanted to let go of that moment.
His hands found something to clutch onto this time. He grabbed at the fabric under his fingers and pulled, using the lapels of Aziraphale’s coat to bring them as close together as he could.
He was sure that if his hands weren't fisted, with white knuckles, into the fabric of Aziraphale’s jacket, they would have been shaking. Six thousand years it had been.
Six thousand years of believing he deserved nothing more than the very damnation he earned himself so long ago. Hatred for every fiber of his being, cursed scales seared onto his physical form. The lesson burned into his ethereal soul that he could never, should never be loved. He couldn't be, it was impossible. Thousands of years of tormenting himself over his Fall, berating himself. And yet, he knew at his very core it had happened for a reason. Everything he had earned. The gruesome time spent in bloody battle grounds against heaven. Violent, blood smeared weapons, his soul being torn apart, shredding him inside and out. He deserved all of it. That’s what they told him after all. Eternal damnation, that’s all a demon was good for. They couldn’t be kind, they couldn’t comprehend empathy, they weren't allowed to try and understand the concept of love. It had been branded into his being. His mind, his twisting true form with its melted eyes and cracked wings. He was broken. And he deserved it. That’s what he had always believed.
But Aziraphale is here, holding him like he deserves kindness, as if he is worth the soft words.
Kissing him like he’s beautiful, like he’s loved.
He is loved isn't he.
He wants Aziraphale to know that too.
His fingers loosen in the fabric of Aziraphale’s jacket, and, in turn, he feels the arm around his waist drop slightly.
Pulling away from this is the last thing he wants to do. He’ll settle for gazing into Aziraphale’s eyes instead.
Aziraphale is gorgeous, he’s loved him for so long. Admiring him from afar, barely allowing himself their friendship. Wishing he could rake the taste of char out of his mouth, off the back of his teeth, yet unwilling to leave a dark stain of wretchedness upon his Angel.
But now, they’re here, together, a hopeful future blossoming between them. Crowley steels himself one last time. He’s ready, finally.
“I love you, Aziraphale.”
The tears that had started to fall coldly down his face are warmed when Aziraphale’s thumb runs through them, brushing them off his cheeks.
Aziraphale always thought his eyes were gorgeous, a bright and beautiful yellow, crafted from the cosmos.
“I love you as well, my Darling.”
Crowley’s face, having been marred with sorrow finally had the chance to bring itself into a soft and kind expression, a smile brought forth with it the taste of creation, something he had long forgotten, along with his stars.
Maybe now, with Aziraphale with him, it was all going to be ok. He can create again, and he is going to craft them a future, they finally have this, and neither of them are going to let go.