Work Text:
Trust is earned and has to be kept.
Close to the heart, tied up with string and cared for day in and day out.
He’s never been sure of what it was he’d done to earn Crowley’s trust. Has spent years trying to solve the puzzle in the hopes of not losing it. In the aim to hold on to this fragile gift. He’s still not worked it out.
But likewise he doesn’t know what Crowley did that made him trust the demon. Doesn’t recall any pivotal moment where he thought ‘yes, this is the being I shall trust to take me out to dinner at a surprise restaurant and not even think to worry that he might be trapping me’. He just went along with the invites. Sent out ones of his own. Lowered his defences one by one. Evening by evening. Until it all merged together to where he is now. Irrevocably in love with Crowley. Trusting him with his heart, not just his life. And it feels safe. He feels safe.
The dim lights of the bus do little to illuminate the night. One near the driver’s little booth flickers on and off. A moth flutters around the front window. Crowley sits next to him. They’ve never sat next to each other on a bus before; there’s always been a conveniently empty seat behind the angel for Crowley to take up with his long limbs. There’s an entire bus Crowley could be taking up. But they’re sitting together. Arms providing the other with comforting warmth from their overlapped hands to their shoulders. He doesn’t realise that their mutual silence is in fact because Crowley is falling asleep until the demon’s head tips onto Aziraphale’s shoulder.
He forces himself not to tense up. Stays loose and relaxed, so it’s comfier for Crowley despite the fact that he’s not awake to appreciate it. This is trust. Trust that Crowley seems to believe he’s earnt. Trust to protect him. Care for him. Soothe him. And, even if he has to forsake everything else in the universe to be free to do so, love him.
It’s barely been a minute since Crowley leant against him that he stirs, the hair on the top of his head tickling Aziraphale’s neck and under his chin. Aziraphale squeezes his hand.
“You’re feelin’ too loudly, angel,” Crowley slurs very quietly, voice raspy with exhaustion.
“How so, my dear?”
“You’re all affectionate . Did we go past a baby or somethin’?”
Crowley hasn’t lifted his head. Has in fact done the opposite wherein he’s snuggled more firmly into Aziraphale’s shoulder, shifting his torso closer to lean fully against Aziraphale’s side. Aziraphale smiles to himself, glad Crowley can’t see it.
“You’re doin’ it ‘gain, lots’a babies for thiss time’a night.”
Aziraphale chuckles, interweaving their fingers together properly as he says, “no babies, my dear, just you .”
Crowley hums sleepily and squeezes back. He’s asleep in seconds. Aziraphale’s smile stays all the way back to Crowley’s flat as he rests his own head atop his sleeping partner’s.