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“I don’t know, angel. Tell me.”
“You bless me to look upon your form. You resemble the most colorful nebulae at your core. My love, you are made of stars.”
A cool breeze swept around the two, hanging around a grassy cliff that might be the last stepping stone towards a vast, night-lit ocean. An iridescent moon, large and full, made the waters shimmer.
Crowley stood near the edge, where the grass met the deep air. His Angel, all fire and eyes, lounged on a patchwork blanket. Wine and rich food sat half enjoyed beside him.
Damn he loved him.
“Why do you ask, darling?”
Waves crashed into one another on their way up the shore below.
“I can’t see myself… Not really. It’s, well… It’s part of The Falling… along with everything else. Sometimes I don’t… feel all the way connected with my body.”
Even after all this time, it was hard to articulate. Exactly one other Demon he’d met, long ago, could talk about what they went through—Ashtaroth, who hid herself away in luxury and relative safety. Even when they did speak about The Falling, it was in hushed voices. They knew not to push the issue with each other. He genuinely missed her, once in a while. When he thought briefly about getting back in touch, though, he hesitated. Didn’t know if it was safe anymore.
“I can see you.”
Crowley damn near cried. He stuttered vaguely.
“You’re a good being, Crowley.”
“Bless it, angel, stop it!”
Those eyes of his, made of clear noon skies, gazed up at him. Well, some of them did. Some of them flitted in other directions.
“I’m… I’m sorry, Aziraphale. You have a right to say what you like.” He shuffled his foot, and about muttered, “Even if I don’t believe it.”
After a moment of deliberation, Aziraphale divested his full attention to the other being. His best friend. The love of his ancient life.
“So you know, I’m going to let you know the truth, until you do believe it. You can always count on that.”
Quietly, Crowley swelled.
“You’re much too good for Heaven, angel… They don’t know what They had.”
Fire itself flinched. A few of those eyes actually seemed afraid, for a split second.
“Apparently not.”
The Demon sighed. Even after The Fall—especially after The Fall—Heaven would have gotten on the case of sympathetic Angels. He didn’t know what happened, but it couldn’t have been a good time. Aziraphale really was the best of them.
“Fuck…”
He stepped lightly toward his light, and kneeled on both knees before him.
“Y’know, you can… I mean, if you ever want to… I’m here, too.”
“I may take you up on that, dear.”
“Can I…?”
With a nod, Crowley gently swept Aziraphale in his arms until they both lay on the blanket. Secure in the promise and devotion to the other, even though they each felt like the undercurrent of storms: It was going to get better, they vowed silently.
It was going to get better.
An ocean of polyphonic music lulled them into relative serenity. The iridescent moon glittered on its surface, as a cool breeze whispered secrets nestled in verdant, cosmic life.