Chapter Text
“Over-sensitive”. That was how Crowley had called Aziraphale, once (or several times, but really, after 6,000 years of hanging around with the same person, one couldn’t really keep count of this sort of things). That particular day in Tadfield Manor, offended, Aziraphale had felt compelled to reply that it was his job, that angels couldn’t be over-sensitive.
He was sensitive, that much was obvious. It had a lot to do with inhabiting a body, of course, considering how it reacted to everything he would see, hear, taste, smell or touch – fascinating features the humans called the five senses. But, being an angel, Aziraphale also had a sixth sense: he was able to feel love. It wasn’t something that could be put into words; it was just there, flashes of love, cherished feel he could sense deeply in his heart and soul.
Aziraphale had the chance to revel in all those senses from the very start, during his first days in the Garden of Eden – but we’ll come back to that.
The point was, now that Aziraphale was thinking about it, maybe Crowley had been right (the angel wasn’t so keen on acknowledging it, but the demon was usually right). Maybe Aziraphale was over-sensitive.
As a matter of fact, he could recall, over the course of his extended stay on Earth, a few overwhelming moments that had happened to him, during which his senses had been unmistakably heightened. Maybe that was one would be bound to feel, after living among humans for hundreds of years and witnessing the many results of their endless imagination and creativity… And after living through this alongside a certain demon for an equal amount of time, sometimes yielding all too easily to his temptations. Well, up to a certain point, anyway – he was an angel after all, he had to keep the evil at bay. Or had had to, at least, until…
Until the two of them had fought together to prevent the Apocalypse and save the Earth. Until they had saved each other. Until there had been no more sides but their own. Until the very first day of the rest of their lives.
Yes, now that Aziraphale was thinking about it, Crowley had been right: he was over-sensitive. It had struck him when they had switched bodies, and it had suddenly felt as if all his senses had been dulled (except for smell, obviously). It had struck him even more when, back into their own body, they had ended up in the back room of his bookshop and had opened up to each other in a very different way. There, the angel decided that it was time for him to embrace it completely. Sight, hearing, touch, taste, smell, love… Everything, all at once.
Because, in all honesty, now that Aziraphale was free, now that he knew how it felt, and why, he wouldn’t change it for the world.