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Crowley has always been a tad self-conscious waltzing out and about. You wouldn’t be able to tell from his swaggering walk or his general cockiness of course. There was one thing he wished he could change: his eyes.
His eyes were a deep yellow with black slits, a constant reminder of his inner snake and demonic origins. Hiding them with those blasted glasses had been getting rather old honestly. Post-apocalyptic world, why not shake it up a bit.
Crowley sat down at his vanity, which he bought in the 1920s for dramatic purposes (plus it fit the grey aesthetic of his bedroom too perfectly.) He sighed as he looked at himself in the mirror and delicately removed the glasses.
He could concede that he was conventionally attractive. He quite was quite fond of how his ginger hair stuck up a bit, one of his favorite styles throughout the millennia. “I’ve always liked your hair short, my dear,” he can almost hear a certain angel say as he twists his head from side to side to get a real good look at himself.
He could also say that Aziraphale was attractive. That’s beside the point.
Crowley’s eyes. They were a bit off-putting to the everyday human. Not like the angel’s blue ones, which were much warmer and inviting. Aziraphale’s eyes conveyed a sense of safety that empowered Crowley to throw caution to the wind. He defied HELL for those eyes. His own on the other hand, well he didn’t mind them too much. He also didn’t mind trying something new.
He miracled some supplies and got to business.
——
Aziraphale was growing concerned. He was supposed to meet with Crowley at the bookshop at around noon to walk to a new bakery that opened around the corner, but it was nearing 1:00 now. Crowley was never late, not to their outings anyway. Especially now that he has nothing better to do, what with the end of the world not happening and all.
But then again he probably does. Aziraphale was being so foolish, why would he be a priority when Crowley surely had much more important things to accomplish on a Thursday afternoon. How selfish Aziraphale was being!
He should just phone him anyway. Just to check up. That’s all.
Just as he was about to dial his number, which he proudly had memorized, Crowley burst through the doors to the shop.
“Well speak of the devil!” Aziraphale exclaimed. Crowley shuffled across the room, making a conscious effort not to make eye contact.
“Morning, angel!” he remarked while sauntering toward the worn-in sofa.
“My dear, it’s almost 1:30. Are you alright?”
“Me? Alright? Better than ever! In fact, I have a surprise for you!” Just as quickly as he sat down, Crowley leaped back up. He made his way over to where Aziraphale was standing.
“Oh, lovely! What is it?”
Crowley slowly took off his sunglasses, ever the dramatic, to show Aziraphale what the surprise was. His eyes, once snake-like and yellow, were now utterly normal. They were a shade that really could only be described as a lifelessly, mundanely, ordinary brown.
“Aren’t they great! I’ve always wanted to know what I would look like without, well you know, and I quite like- what’s wrong, angel?”
“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed. “What have you done to your beautiful eyes?”
Beautiful? His eyes were many things but Crowley would have never in a lifetime call them beautiful. He then noticed the look of worry across Aziraphale’s face.
“They’re just contacts, angel, they’re not permanent,” he said, looking down at the floor of the bookshop. Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s cheek in his hand and sighed yet again.
“Your eyes are so unique, Crowley. The few times I get to see them I feel very special. I know you don’t show them to just anybody,” he chuckled. Crowley felt his cheeks heat up. “Not to mention how beautiful they are. I’ve never seen anything quite like them.”
“But that’s the point,” Crowley said, turning away. “I don’t like being different, well I do, but you know what I mean.”
“I love you for who you are, snake eyes and all,” Aziraphale smiled with a warmth that seemed to melt through to Crowley’s soul. He paused and then turned back around. His contacts were gone and his true eyes had returned.
“Let’s go get pastries,”
——
“You did say it, you know,” said Crowley on the walk back from the bakery. They had been extremely lucky, it was a miracle the line was so short to get inside the new establishment.
“What do you mean?” Aziraphale asked. He was holding a bag full of a variety of freshly baked bread, the place had made quite a first impression and he was sure he’d be back very soon.
“Earlier, in the bookshop. You said that you, erm, that you-”
“That I love you?”
“Yes, that’s it yes,” Crowley squirmed.
“I said it because it’s true,” Aziraphale remarked nonchalantly.
Crowley had no clue how to respond. He’d been in love with this angel for years now. Why has he never acted on it? Well, there are multiple reasons. There’s the classic Romeo and Juliet issue with their respective sides. But now their on their own side. There’s also the ever so viable, until now, take that the angel couldn’t possibly love him in return. He’d tossed that one around quite a bit. This theory led to the much more accurate reason, however: Crowley was scared.
And he was scared now. He had known the angel for six thousand years. Plenty of time to get to know someone. And now here they were. Who knew Aziraphale would make a move first, that cheeky bastard.
All of a sudden they had reached the bookshop.
“Well, I best be getting in to sort out my new shipment, I’ll see you-”
“Aziraphale, wait.”
He did as he was told and turned to face Crowley, who was straightening the sunglasses on his face.
“Angel, I. What I’m trying to say is that I, well-” Crowley struggled to form the three simple words he knew he meant, he just never thought he’d get this far.
“I know,” Aziraphale smiled, that same warm smile from earlier. He stepped closer and removed Crowley’s sunglasses. It was a miracle no one was passing by that might have seen his eyes.
Crowley, never the best at articulating how he felt, decided to show instead of tell. He leaned closer to Aziraphale, if that’s even possible, and closed the gap between them. Again, an absolute miracle that the street was uncharacteristically quiet that day because it would have been a strange sight indeed to see an angel and a demon kiss rather passionately on the steps of a bookshop.
They broke, both beaming at each other. It’s as if six thousand years of friendship and pining had led to this moment. They chuckled a bit before the angel opened the door to the glorified library and invited the demon in for a spot of tea.