Work Text:
When they fight, they fight.
And when they come home at night, they say,
“I love you baby.”
Crowley’s ears turned a bright shade of pink as he stormed out of the bookshop. The demon shoved his sunglasses up higher onto the bridge of his nose and yanked open the door of the Bentley. Aziraphale jogged all the way to the front door of the shop after him, but the angel couldn’t make it there fast enough.
He called to Crowley, but the demon didn’t respond. He didn’t even look over his shoulder. The angel watched as Crowley slid into the Bentley, started up its engine, and peeled off down the street faster than what should have been possible for such an old car. Aziraphale felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes and he hugged his arms over his chest, staring off in the direction that Crowley had vanished.
Was it too much too soon?
Or too little too late?
The Bentley’s engine roared as the demon hurtled down the street, doing much more than ninety miles an hour. He gripped the steering wheel hard enough to make his knuckles turn white. Crowley gritted his teeth in frustration as he weaved in and out of traffic, fleeing to the safety of his flat. Raindrops began to mark his windshield and plink against the roof of his car.
He got the message she left on his car in the rain.
A single tear found its way below the bottom rim of the demon’s sunglasses, only making him angrier. His mind raced as he replayed their argument. It was foolish , he realized. The entire thing had been pointless . It didn’t matter what forces had kept them apart for 6,000 years, they could be together now. Why should it matter how long they’d each felt a certain way about the other, or who’d said what first? It wasn’t the angel’s fault it had taken him so long to realize his feelings.
And then the words, they come to you,
Driving away.
You just can’t let it go.
Crowley trudged up to his apartment and slumped against the front door as soon as he was inside. He took off his sunglasses to reveal tear-stained eyes that glistened a yellowy orange in the dim light. The demon flung them to the side in a fit of anger, balling his fists so tightly that his fingernails drew blood from his palms.
He let out a shuddering gasp and fell to the floor. Crowley curled in on himself, angry at the angel, but even angrier at himself. Not for the first time in 6,000 years, he’d been given the perfect opportunity to tell Aziraphale how he really felt. This was however, the first time he would have been able to do it while knowing that the angel felt the same way. Crowley cursed himself for being such a coward. He should have never tried to hide behind his anger.
And when they fight, they fight.
And when they come home at night, they say,
“I love you baby.”
The demon passed the evening in misery. He spent hours tossing and turning in his luxurious bed, but all the satin pajamas and silk sheets and big, fluffy comforters in the world wouldn’t have been enough to ease him into sleep, let alone his own. Crowley finally drifted into a fitful sleep, just awake enough to let unpleasant thoughts plague his mind, but just asleep enough to be helpless to stop it.
He dreamed of the angel’s bookshop, but in his dream, it wasn’t the way he’d left it only a few hours ago. It was burning down again, it’s precious contents all aflame, and there was nothing Crowley could do to stop it. He screamed and cried in his dream, yelling for Aziraphale to get out. Crowley woke up in shock, sitting bolt upright in his bed.
As if he were still in a dream, Crowley felt his lips call for the angel— his angel, he realized—almost entirely of their own accord. Aziraphale. Crowley had to know that he was safe. He had to. He flew out of bed and ran towards the front door, wearing nothing but his pajamas, his feet bare. The demon climbed into his Bentley and sped down the street. He needed to see the silly angel sitting in his shop, reading one of his books on the loveseat in the back.
And when it all comes crashing down,
What can you do,
To find what you’re looking for?
Fear and regret plagued him as he drove, raindrops still falling from the heavily clouded sky. Why had he been such an idiot? All of this could have been avoided if he hadn’t snapped at the angel. If he could have just been honest with Aziraphale, if he could have just told him what he really thought, then everything would have been wonderful. Why did Crowley have to screw it up?
But it was more than that. If something happened to Aziraphale ...No. Crowley couldn’t bear the thought of it. He couldn’t—and wouldn’t—forgive himself if something bad happened to the angel while he was away. He couldn’t imagine the last words he ever said to Aziraphale being angry. Crowley wouldn’t dare to think that their last conversation would ever be an argument. There were so many other things he would have liked to say instead.
And then the words will come to you,
Driving through the rain.
The Bentley’s tires screeched as Crowley slammed on the brakes just outside of Aziraphale’s shop. The demon ignored the raindrops that fell on his head and shoulders as he dashed up to the front. A snap of his fingers and the front door swung open. Another snap and it closed behind him.
“Aziraphale!” Crowley cried.
He tried to keep the tears out of his voice, but failed miserably. His eyes, not hidden behind his sunglasses as they usually were, darted around the room, desperately searching for some sign that the angel was there. Crowley ran about the shop, peering down rows of bookshelves, glancing at the angel’s desk, searching every inch of the back room. Aziraphale was nowhere to be found.
But there’ll be no one left to say them to, anyway.
“Crowley?”
The demon looked up at the narrow flight of stairs that led to Aziraphale’s flat. The angel was standing towards the top of the staircase, a hand gently resting on the wooden handrail. His brows were furrowed and his expression was filled with concern. He quickly descended the stairs, stopping only when he was about a pace or so away from Crowley.
He must have seen the crestfallen look in Crowley’s eyes, because any traces of leftover hurt from their fight earlier had completely vanished from Aziraphale’s face. The angel made a soft, tutting noise and reached out his hand, gently cupping Crowley’s face with it. He held Crowley’s gaze and stroked the demon’s cheek with his thumb. Crowley began to cry once more, and the angel quietly shushed him.
And when they fight, they fight.
And when they come home at night, they say,
“I love you baby.”
“It’s alright,” Aziraphale soothed.
“I had a dream—and you—and the bookshop—and everything was on fire, and, a-and…” Crowley stammered between heaving sobs.
The angel softly hushed him again. He reached for Crowley with his other arm and pulled the demon against his chest. Crowley instinctively wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s middle, hugging the angel against him. With a little encouragement on Aziraphale’s part, the demon leaned his head on the angel’s shoulder, burying his face in the side of Aziraphale’s neck.
He felt the angel run a hand through his hair. Crowley squeezed him a little tighter and closed his eyes, simply letting Aziraphale hold him. The angel rubbed circles in his back and shoulders, gently rocking them from side to side in a comforting manner. Crowley wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, clinging to each other, but he never wanted to let go, even after he was quite convinced that Aziraphale really was there, and that nothing bad had happened to him.
Aziraphale took Crowley’s face in both of his hands and stared at him intently. When the demon finally offered him a smile, the angel leaned in and kissed Crowley’s lips. It was the first kiss the angel had ever given him, and as far as Crowley was concerned, he wanted it to be the first of many more to come.
He joyfully kissed Aziraphale back, letting out a contented mmmm against the angel’s lips. Just like that, the kiss was over practically as quickly as it had begun. Crowley wordlessly mourned the sudden withdrawal, wanting nothing more than to capture the angel’s lips in a kiss again. His chest ached and his head spun and suddenly, his mouth was spitting out the words he wished he’d said earlier before he could stop it.
“I love you Aziraphale. I love you so much and I...I don’t ever want you to go. I want you to stay. Oh, please! I could never lose you!”
“You won’t lose me, dear. Not ever.”
There was a beat of silence, then:
“I love you too Crowley,” Aziraphale said quietly.
The angel tilted their heads together, so that their foreheads were gently pressed against each other.
“I suppose a small part of me always has,” he continued. “But now I know that all of me always will. Forever .”
“ Oh angel… ”
Crowley pressed their lips together once more and they both made pleased noises of relief and contentment. They stood there for some time, their arms wrapped tightly around each other, kissing until they both had to pull away for air they didn’t really need.
And when they fight, they fight.
And when they come home at night, they say,
“I love you baby.”